#and if I have to learn the hard way that it'll never be enough so be it

[veryace-ficrecs]

The Pitt Fic Recs Part 1

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

This Is The Day In Chaos by NameStartsWithN - Rated G

As the Pitt descends into its usual chaos, Dr Robby brings coffee and encouragement to his beleaguered team. Samira Mohan and Dennis Whittaker bond, while Mel King finally makes a joke -- intentionally!

The Dead Don’t Answer by NameStartsWithN - Rated G

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch learned a long time ago that death isn’t quiet—it’s a symphony of chaos, a brutal soundtrack of screaming monitors, cracking ribs, and the rush of hands fighting the inevitable. At Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Hospital, there are always calls for help. Because the dead don’t answer. But the living don’t have a choice.

The Aftermath by AGirlHasNoName20 - Rated T

Two weeks after Pittfest, Robby is presented with a choice. Or: The one in which Robby starts therapy. Don't read unless you've watched the entire season 1.

Rules of Law by jumpfall - Rated G

The night Robby signed his attending contract, he was introduced to the Laws According to Adamson. He likes to hope that if he leaves his trainees with nothing else, it'll be the Addendums According to Robby. - Alternatively, is it really a fandom until there's a five things fic?

To Be A Doctor by mossterious -Rated G

Four student doctors. Four paths to get there. Four points of view. One hospital. — Aka I need to get used to writing different character povs SO HAVE SOME TINY CHARACTER STUDIES I GUESS?!

people come and go on the breeze by sweetmuses - Rated M

Redemption is a hard, long journey. She knows this probably better than most people. You have to keep yourself afloat amongst the madness, being acutely aware of tipping back into the ether. It’s easier to live within the boundless ocean of guilt than to take accountability - because to take accountability means that you’re willing to work for it, and there’s no way of knowing when you’ll slip up and fall.

Or: A reflection on the in-betweens of life, ghosts, and the human condition, through the eyes of Cassie McKay.

In Memoriam by fundotperiod - Rated G

How Robby has grieved and remembered his mentor.

Reflection by ZHH123 - Rated G

She thinks back on all the moments she almost couldn’t bear. The moments that prompted her to question if she belonged in the pitt. Then she thinks of her triumphs.

Last Call by jumpfall - Rated T

“Sorry if I woke you,” Robby says. Jack shrugs. “Middle of the day in my time zone.” He waits a beat, and then asks, “You want to talk?” “No.” “You want a drink?” “You'd allow that?” “No,” Jack says. “Just lets me gauge how concerned I should be.” – 1x15 episode tag.

The Pitt Crew! by megas217 - Rated G

Welcome to the Pitt Crew a story about the doctors and nurses who work in the Pitt.

Sursum Corda by Celebratory Penguin (cpenguing) - Rated M

A few hours after Pittfest, Langdon returns to the ED.

The Way, Way Back by jumpfall - Rated T

Robby, post 1x13.

And I Said Nothing by elpopooley66 - Rated T

Trinity Santos is not okay. She’s never really been okay. But she’s held herself together this long — on caffeine, adrenaline, and silence sharp enough to cut. The Pitt sees it. Langdon sees it. And for once, maybe she lets herself be seen. They don’t fix her. They just don’t leave. Sometimes, that’s enough. Featuring: unresolved trauma, a lobster named Greb, a borrowed hoodie, and the terrifying prospect of letting someone care. Or: the one where she stops pretending she’s fine — and someone finally calls her bluff.

what a weight to live under by shirelings - Rated T

Mel’s convinced she’s made it to the door without anyone noticing her before a voice stops her dead in her tracks. “Dr. King.” It’s said in that sort of way that’s not really a question even if someone else would frame it like that, and Mel lets her shoulders rise up a little towards her ears as she slowly turns. Oh, boy. - Mel does, in fact, talk to Abbot at the end of the day.

Change of Watch by jumpfall - Rated T

When Robby's phone vibrated twenty minutes ago, he'd been dealing with a critical GSW to the adbomen and unable to answer. Now there's a voicemail from Jake.

Even Grouches Need to Go to the Hospital by lolathatch - Rated T

Trinity Santos finds a video of Doctor Robby from his younger days and makes it everyone's problem.

singing in unison by dotsayers - Rated M

Leah's sick the night before Pittfest. Robby gets his ticket back.

just a drop of water in an endless sea by evening_spirit - Rated G

Robby’s going to be fine, a rational part of Frank’s mind says. You’re the last person Robby needs right now, says another part, the one that hates himself. But Frank saw the look in Robby’s eyes and he knows that Robby is not fine. Not this time. And no one else will help. But should it be him? Maybe he should go get Dana? Abbot? Damn, if at least Collins was here. But Collins is not here, Dana doesn’t have anything more to give and Abbot is a pragmatic, a doer, not someone who would comfort another. Then again, neither is Frank. Or--a 1x13 coda where Frank and Robby talk, but it doesn't really solve anything.

Aftershocks by jumpfall - Rated T

Ways they are (and aren't) coping with the mass casualty incident.

living weighs heavier by Antumbra - Rated T

Maybe none of them were ever meant to be alright, not once they’d chosen to devote themselves to this career that could only tear them down and break them apart. Or: an alternate take where Jack finds Robby after his breakdown.

[fisheito]

yakuya in MY swamp? in MY ecosystem? no . i am still in disbelief. i hope you all know that my particles are bouncing off the everything. i am using periods as punctuation but the state of my mind is naught neareth final.

[monster-noises]

I'm really hoping I can get some work done today but the mouse in the wheel that powers my brain is not up and running so I think I may have to go for a walk, given that it's already 2:30pm this does not bode well for said work getting done but I'd rather take a nice walk and feel alert at least a little bit than sit at my desk for several hours feeling the slow dark slide down into the abyss while still not getting any work done and also probably developing a gnaaarly headache. Doesn't help that I'm kinda stuck for what to work on, cause I want to do this illustration project but it's Kicking my Ass still and I realized last night, while mopping about my seeming inability to build an audience, that hey, maybe if I try being more Vocal and Engaging with my Projects by say like.... Actually describing them and telling people details about them. I might attract a bit more attention? So now I kinda want to make some short kinda introduction thing for Dragon's Daughter but also I'm in like a Huge Stress-induced Depression Mud Pit and the thought of making promotional materials feels silly and pointless and like Who Cares? No One Is Interested, Has Ever Been Interested Or Will Become Interested so like.... Don't Bother? And that's Not True but like even if that Was true I should probably try anyway, even if just a little bit... It may have some affect like, who knows? So I think I should go for a walk to shake this stinkin thinkin out the ol' bitinkin by which I mean Brain. My tags got cut off so I'm adding them to the post instead

So maybe making a little introductory graphic will help Dragon's Daughter pick up some steam, maybe it'll drum up some interest and excitement and make people want to know about it and engage with it and be excited for it to come out, maybe it'll make people want to keep tabs on it or ask questions. Or maybe it won't. And my funny little slide show will settle gently like any other unique but functionally identical snowflake on the top of the pile. Unnoticed but as part of the larger whole of Art Posted On The Internet. Only really one way to find out. Though that doesn't make it feel any less silly and pointless to do anyways.. Just have to swallow that and try anyway.

[xoxojisu]

ANYONE BUT YOU

synopsis: there are certain things that katsuki wouldn't allow for anyone but you.

warning(s): underage (highschool) drinking, switched between first and second pov in the third segment sorry, not well-proofread

a/n: wrote this for unofficialbf!katsuki again like duh!

"FUCKING DUNCE FACE! HOW ARE YOU THIS FUCKING STUPID?!" bakugo screamed, smoke literally flowing from his head as he hit kaminari's head repeatedly with a ruler.

"hey, man, if you keep doing that, it'll make him even stupider!" kirishima protested on kaminari's behalf, who already looked like he was seeing the light from above.

"like i care! he needs to learn a lesson! or anything, for that matter! we were taught this shit back in middle school!" bakugo hissed, crossing his arms and collapsing back on his seat.

"wait, but bakugo, i also kind of need some help with that.." mina said, trailing off when bakugo sent her a withering death glare. "actually, maybe i'll go ask yaomomo."

he huffed. "how are people this fucking stupid? like seriously, it's not that fucking hard."

"..katsuki? i need help with this question." you interjected a bit anxiously, showing him your paper.

he’d deny the way his eyes softened immediately. "tch. we learned this in middle school, you know." he said gruffly, giving your forehead a very gentle flick.

"i know, but i forgot. will you help? please?" you pleaded.

he sighed. "fine, c'mere. so for this step.."

as he taught you the material in a (GASP) normal tone of voice, kirishima and kaminari whispered off to the side.

"seriously?! that's the same question i didn't get." kaminari whined.

"i know! he's always so nice to her! it's crazy!"

"if he was half as nice to us as he is to her, i'd have at least a C!"

"i know, right? man, i want that special treatment, too!"

-

"..you fucking idiots."

tsu had called bakugo and deku to mina's room where they were having a girl's night. mina had managed to sneak some vodka in, so they were all having fun getting drunk and talking. however, by the end of the night, you, mina, and ochaco were wasted. luckily, mina would be ok, seeing as she was already in her room, but tsu had decided to ship off you and ochaco to katsuki and deku, as she was drunk herself and didn't feel like she could take proper care of the both of you.

"all of you are already fucking idiots. alcohol kills off your brain cells! you tryna get even dumber or something, huh?!" katsuki grumbled.

"kacchan! it's fine, really. come on, uraraka, let's go." deku scolded before helping ochaco out the door and back to her room.

"don't.. hic! be a buzzkill, bakugo. girls just wanna have fun!" mina slurred. katsuki could feel his eyebrows furrowing more and more as his irritation grew. he swore he was one more drunken idiot statement away from walking away right then and there.

sure enough, though, another drunken idiot statement quickly followed.

"katsuki! you're here! ..when did you get here?" you quipped excitedly, clearly not in your right mind.

katsuki ran a hand through his hair. "i've been here, idiot. for the past 5 fuckin' minutes."

you scrambled off of mina's bed where you were sitting and made your way to him, albeit with many more steps needed to get there from all of the stumbling you were doing. you jumped onto him as best you could, and he easily caught you. despite his grumbles, there was an undeniable softness in his eyes.

"missed you, kats.." you mumbled, nuzzling in to his neck with an affection you’d be humiliated by if you were just a tad bit more sober. he tensed a bit under your touch, but still adjusted you so you could cling onto him more comfortably.

"yeah, yeah. let's go." he muttered, quickly turning and leaving, trying to keep from snapping as you giggled and waved goodbye to your friends, wriggling in his grasp.

as he walked down the hall with you securely in his arms, katsuki listened to all your drunk rambling with never-before-seen patience.

"'nd then ochaco finally admitted to liking midoriya! i mean, we all knew, but it was so crazy that she finally admitted it!"

"did you know that kirishima's natural hair is black? mina told us! 'pparently there was some incident with a villain that totally changed him, so he dyed his hair red! isn't that crazy?! what if one day he can't dye it anymore because his hair is so damaged? his name is red riot!"

"if two people who have mind-reading quirks read each other's minds at the same time, whose mind would they be reading?"

amazingly, katsuki didn't snap at you at all amidst your rambles. he listened to your drunk babbling with incredible silence, simply dutifully carrying you down to your dorm.

at some point, though, the rambles stopped, and katsuki heard you.. sniffling? were you crying? he immediately stopped and lowered you in his arms to see your face, and sure enough, there were fat tears rolling down your puffed-up cheeks.

"y/n, what? you cryin'? why?" he asked gently, though panic evident in his voice. ever since childhood, one of his least favorite things was when you cried.

"kats," you sniffled, "'m i annoying? d'you not liking being with me?"

katsuki’s eyes widened. he knew you were just extra emotional from the alcohol, but he still never wanted you to think that.

"hey, look at me." he said softly. "i'd never spend time with ya if i didn't wanna, so never think that."

your face brightened comedically fast, and you were quick to squeeze him tight, giggling. "awee, you're so cute! 'nd sweet!"

katsuki rolled his eyes, but his eyes softened at the sound of your giggles. he'd never admit it, but it was his favorite sound in the world.

"come on, loser. let's get you to bed."

-

"TOUCH ME AND FUCKING DIE!" were words that had been roared by katsuki to just about everyone that had ever come within a four-meter radius of the boy. whether it was an arm slung over his shoulder in celebration, a high five, a pat on the back, or even someone trying to help him up or tend to his wounds, katsuki was very clear that the only reason someone should ever, ever, ever come into contact with him was to get blasted by his explosions and die at his hands.

so, the reactions of the red and yellow-haired (ba ba ba BA ba i'm lovin' it) boys at the sight in front of them was pretty justified.

"no way," kirishima whispered, a hand over both his and denki's mouths. "this cannot be real."

before them, they saw a peacefully asleep y/n on top of bakugo. on top. of bakugo. the bakugo. the "i don't care that my life is in danger and i need treatment! don't fuckin' touch me!" bakugo.

and that bakugo was.. playing with her hair? and rubbing a hand up and down her back? underneath her shirt? and upon closer inspection, wait.. is she wearing his shirt?!

the two watched silently as you began to stir awake, eyes fluttering open. you were greeted by katsuki's looking down at you, a certain fondness in his eyes. you mumbled a hi with a sleepy smile, to which he grinned (like a real, genuine smile not a demonic feral chihuahua smirk) at and ruffled your hair gently.

"mornin', dumbass. you sleep well?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"mhm!" you beamed before returning your head to its rightful place on katsuki's chest. you nuzzled into him happily, mumbling a sleepy "so warm.."

his cheeks tinted pink and he scoffed, but he still wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. he gave your head a quick, gentle peck and pulled out his phone to scroll for a bit, his grip never once loosening as he massaged your scalp and nape.

you melted at his touch, an blissful expression on your face. "such a sweetie pie!" you giggled sleepily.

he rolled his eyes and gave your neck a quick scribble, his eyes dilating at the sound of your increased laughter. "i gotta stop spoilin' ya.." he grumbled, though there wasn't even a hint of maliciousness in his voice, his lips quirked up slightly.

you giggled again. "love you, kats!"

"..love you too, loser."

(kirishima and kaminari, who were still watching on the side could do nothing but sit there in stunned silence. they contemplated if maybe you'd done something amazing to curry his favor that they, too, could do, but they both arrived at the same conclusion: no matter what favors they could do or feats they could accomplish, there are simply certain things that the explosive boy would die before allowing for anyone but you.)

masterlist

[cream-stew]

How about monsterfcking with Neuvillette? Him in his dragon form pounding and breeding reader's pussy until his cum leaks out and when Neuvillette saw his cum leaking out he tries to push it back in using his thick fingers but it just won't stay inside, a lot of his cum wasted so he fucked Reader full again with a new batch of cum and cockwarmed him after their down<3

(What if after they have sex, Neuvillette carries Reader to the bathroom to clean both of them and Neuvillette still inside of Reader but ended up fucking when Neuvillette and Reader are inside of the bathtub)

Sorry if my grammar is wrong! English is my third language hehe and I'm still learning

🔞minors dni

warnings: afab reader, breeding, creampie, multiple orgasms, squirting, tummy bulge, size kink, mosterfucking

// note: no worries anon I could understand perfectly <3 thank you for the request this was fun

he's bigger than you even in his more human form, but like this, arms and legs covered in light blue scales, thick horns crowning his head, he's just. huge. straight up huge. he has you in a mating press and your face can barely reach his pecs, your legs can't even hook on his shoulders, they're ramrod straight as he grips your ankles in his big hands.

his cock is a really tight fit too... your pussy is stretched to the limit as he pounds into you, leaving you gaping each time he pulls out before slamming back inside with full force. now you can really understand why he decided to fuck you on the floor this time, putting down soft blankets and pillows so that you'd still be comfortable, but simply refusing to do it on the bed: he would have destroyed it in minutes, his strength and stamina in his half dragon form is insane!

when he finally cums inside you, when you're well on your way to a fourth orgasm, you think maybe he'll calm down a little but nope... he just changes tactics, never pulling out completely again, bc he doesn't want his cum to leak out of you :(

he keeps fucking you with really shallow thrusts, just as fast as he did previously, praising and encouraging you to just hold on for "a little longer" bc he needs to cum again, to claim you fully and stuff your cute little pussy to the brim :(

your eyes are tearing up a lil by then, but it feels so good that you can't find it in you to complain... so you let him pump you full one, twice more, until you hear him grumble and mutter something under his breath, until his huge fingers replace his monstrous cock, trying to fuck the cum back inside you. "what a waste" he complains. in his lustful haze he doesn't understand that your pussy is way too small to hold on to all that cum, so the only solution he can find is to fuck you again...

except this time, after pounding into you so so roughly, making you squirt on his cock for who knows how many times, he doesn't pull out after cumming... he just makes you cockwarm him, thinking that there's no way it'll leak out if he keeps your pussy sealed off like that!

it's hours before he allows you to move, but he still doesn't let you go, carrying you to the bathroom with his rock hard cock still buried snugly against your cervix, an evident bulge in your tummy. he summons enough warm water to fill the tub before lowering the both of you inside, effectively making you straddle his hips as the new position allows his cock to reach even deeper inside your womb.

it'd be relaxing, the warm water soothing your sore muscles, if he didn't grab you by the hips to move you back and forth on his cock :/ he uses you like a fleshlight, bouncing you up and down and jerking off inside your pussy as you desperately clutch to his shoulders, moaning and babbling, and when he doesn't stop even after cumming one more time inside, you just accept that you're going to fall asleep in his arms, and he's probably going to keep fucking you through it until you wake up in the morning🥺🥺

[muqingslover]

[ is that angst I smell? The menu for tonight offers the LADS boys and how they are post-breakup with you! yum! the reason for the break-up is open bc it's besides the point. Also, how do we feel about this layout? ]

Now playing: The cut that always bleeds by Conan Gray

Part of him had always expected this to happen. The ugly and resentful side of his heart that never believed in the so called "love" you held for him after the horrible things he went through and in the end he was proven right.

How many more reincarnations would he have to live through until you finally learned to love him? Or maybe this was his punishment for sacrificing the lives of his own people for someone who won't even look his way.

Personally, I don't think he's a weak, whiny baby most people describe him as. I firmly believe Rafayel can be resentful and angry, he just keeps it hidden so you won't see it. This time however? Oh you're seeing all the sides of him.

He wouldn't ever hurt you, absolutely not, but he will raise his voice when he questions why you were doing this to him, why were you forsaking him again, when he's given you everything he possibly could.

"Why is it never enough for you?! Why is it so damn hard for me to be enough for you?! Answer me!" The tears streaming down his face are something he doesn't even realize until his eyes begin to sting. How many centuries has it been since he had last cried?

For months he'd stay locked inside his studio and no one is allowed to visit, not even his aunt is able to help. The paintings he had of you were all ruined but Rafayel still found himself sketching your face like clockwork each time he stood in front of an empty canvas.

He feels angry, betrayed and he's just so, so hurt. I believe that depending on the reason behind the breakup it could very well be his last straw and will lead to him returning to the sea for good.

One day he's just gone without a trace and he's never coming back.

Now playing: The loneliest by Måneskin

He can't believe this is happening. Like, you choosing to break up with him was never even an option in his mind. Xavier would immediately assume it was his fault and beg for you to let him try and fix whatever went wrong.

His entire world shatters when you walk out the door and somehow it hurts so much more than when he held you in his arms as life left your body.

For months he would take part of the same missions you did, visit the same spaces, take the same train and do anything he could to be apart of your life. The silence between the two of you is suffocating but, surprisingly, Xavier is the one who makes the effort to make conversation about even the simplest of things.

His emotional state would completely drain him. He is so exhausted but he can't sleep at all. Not when he knows you chose to not be by his side.

Nevertheless, Xavier would keep trying, trying and trying and then some more. He brings you things he tried to cook in hope it'll make you smile the same way it did before only to end up throwing it away in a bin after you declined it.

Eventually his exhaustion would catch up to him and lead to a fatal mistake while out in a mission. He is stubborn, but there is only so much he can do when his own body is running into the ground.

"Can you see the sky from where you are?" He would ask during a call you received in the middle of the night in which, unknown to you, would be the last time you ever heard his voice. To Xavier however, he was relived he was able to hear your voice while under the same sky one last time.

Now playing: Promise by Laufey

The breakup itself is so quiet and calm. The two of you discussed things and he accepted it. Zayne would always, always, respect your choices. If being by his side was not something you wanted then he will let you go without any claw marks.

It was too awkward to be around each other so what follows are weeks of radio silence. He throws himself into his work, but he can't find the focus to properly do his job. His mind always go back to you— Were you okay? Were you thinking of him at all? Were you eating and sleeping well? Who was by your side now?

He breaks the no contact rule first to check on you and although he isn't sure if what he feels is genuine relief when he sees you doing well at least that's...closure. You're happy and healthy, even without him, and he couldn't ask for more than that.

Zayne feels as if everything around him turned dull and grey. His heart frozen in time after you left and he is nothing more than a husk that functions on autopilot until his body breaks down.

He feels cold regardless of the temperature now that you're not here and he believes it is what it is. He tried, he truly did his absolute best, but he can't take away from your happiness.

The two of you will return to being friends after a while and he will continue to support and care for you like he always did. To you, the moments you shared will soon be forgotten while Zayne he will forever remain frozen in those warm memories.

Now playing: The Moon will sing by The Crave Wives

His hands gently cradle your face as he asks you to please talk to him because there's nothing he wouldn't do for you. Except sometimes there are are things he simply can't do and that's something he would be forced to accept.

Sylus would ask to keep contact even if it's just for the sake of business and uses any and every excuse to see you or hear your voice. If he can't be wanted then he will be needed and if he can't be needed then he is okay with being used as long as it's by your hands.

In truth, he wouldn't ever give you up regardless if you fell for someone else or years pass. He will be frustrated and hurt at times, but he can be patient. He will wait until it's his turn to be deserving of your heart again.

Though that does not mean he will do absolutely nothing. Sylus would tell you every day that he still loves you and it doesn't matter what you say because he won't ever feel disencouraged.

"I'm not expecting anything or pressuring you. I'm only reminding you that my love for you won't change even if you're not by my side." His voice is like a gentle coo as his hand comes to pat your head, playfully ruffling your hair so you would drop the serious expression on your pretty face.

Now playing: In my room by Julia Wolf

The biggest CRASH out.

First, he knows you want to break up before you even gather up the courage to bring it up and he finds a way to stop you from saying it every. single. time.

"Caleb I think—" "Oh! I completely forgot! I got these tickets to the show you wanted to go! C'mon, c'mon! We'll be late!"

He is in strong denial after you finally manage to say it. He'd claim you're just confused about things and that it'll pass as long as you give it some time because you don't truly mean it. You need him, how could you ever think otherwise?

He will keep calling and texting you non-stop— He begs you to talk to him and rethink your choice. You're obviously making a mistake so please stop this already.

It would take a lot to make him stop. Unless you had an ironclad reason to not come back to him then he would keep going. When he does stop though? Oof.

Caleb could only endure the torture and damage done to him mentally and physically all those years because you were his anchor. His entire life is centered around you and now that you're gone he'd lose all of his motivation.

The last time you hear from him is through the news you'd receive about the colonel who took his own life.

"Please keep me close to your heart." Your eyes read the words on the letter while your other hand clutched the necklace he left for you. Would you grant him this one last, selfish wish of his?

[cursedcola]

Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia (Here) | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: I'm part of the 'everyone underestimates Kalim Al Asim , the layers of his character and upbringing' club. Sweet does not equal being a dum dum my dudes.

Habits You Steal:

Theatrics (Inherited): Kalim talks with more than his mouth. There's body language. Watch out when this guy gets excited because he might knock over a lamp amidst a rant. Hands are flying with each embellishment. He's pacing. Jumping. Energy is seemingly endless with this one. When Kalim laughs, he does so with his entire body without reservation. Head flying back, grin wide, shoulder shaking, etc. Not that he can't replace what gets broken but - y'know. Be careful else you might get bitch slapped on accident. Which normally wouldn't hurt too much but Kalim's decked out in gold. The last thing you want is a ring imprint on your left cheek because Kalim got too excited after a card game. On that note - someone get Jamil some aspirin because that excitement is infectious. You can be the most stone-hearted edge-lord on the face of Twisted Wonderland, but eventually his infectious sunshine attitude takes hold.

"A-Ah! It's okay! We can replace the lamp, so don't worry. Are you hurt? No, no. It's really aright. I'm fine, see? You missed me - can I see your hands for a second? OIII! Can someone please bring a med-kit! Thank you!" <- Jamil's already grabbing the broom before you can say sorry. This is the last time he lets you sit anywhere near fragile objects during a game of charades - or any game. Kalim was bad enough...but at least with him fretting over the tiny cut on your palm, Jamil could clean the mess in peace. At least until you offer to pay for the lamp. Kalim's got enough tact to lie about the price, and everyone's thankful. No one wants to see the Ramshackle Prefect have a heart attack for shattering a real crystal lamp. 'cause then Kalim will cry too and it'll just be dominos from there.

Personal Space (Inherited): Kalim tears away any sense of dignity, self-preservation, and privacy that might exist. In a good way, of course. It's not that Kalim is an open person. Quite the contrary. He needs to keep a calculated distance between himself and others due to his position as an Asim. Regardless of his happy exterior, never forget that Kalim is far from an airhead. Kindness doesn't equate connection - as much as Kalim would love for everyone to be his friend. Yet for those who are in that trusted circle? He treats them like an extension of the self. His lack of shame bleeds into your own perception.

Training and Resistance (Inherited and Developed): Kalim hates that you need to do this. He rarely 'hates' anything, but he despises that you need to worry about being poisoned. What’s worse is that you refuse to have a tester, or a guard, or anything of the sort. It all started with discussing the future with Jamil, who logically brought up the complications that come with Kalim taking a partner. You couldn’t be shadowed, were in a difficult position with the headmaster, and it would only become difficult once the duo moves back to the scalding sands. Even more once you join them (as NRC is merely teaming with prideful youths, while the Scalding Sands is a free for all).

Point summary? You need to build resistance to drugs and learn what to do in a hostage situation. The former is handled by Professor Crewel, and the process was explained in excruciating detail. Jamil, who’s undergone training, was unphased but Kalim desperately wanted you to back out. Yet it would mean needing a guard - which would be hard to arrange - and so…yeah. Many weekends in the nurse’s office. You also have to complete the hostage drills all Asims and their spouses are put through. How to escape bondage, how to last an interrogation, how to navigate without magic (which you could, duh, so basically without a map when stranded), negotiate, etc.

"Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? I can still hire a body guard - there are many options available back home! You can spend our next vacation at the main villa and meet with them. We can - oh. y-you're sure?... alright. If this is what you want then I'll be there through every step. Just remember to ask if you need anything. I'll come running, no matter what."

Charisma (Inherited): Everyone underestimates just how dangerous Kalim is. Seriously. Nothing is more risky in a school like Night Raven College than dropping your guard. It can cost you your life - or at the very least leave you indebted to someone you do not want having dirt over your head (*cough*ACertianCephalopod*cough*)The gossip grapevine is a menace. Everyone has their pride. Everyone has their secrets. Everyone holds each other at arm’s length, even if you’re cordial or friendly. Everyone except Kalim, who has this innate ability to pry the most dirty secrets out of you simply through his nonchalant attitude. Nothing drops another’s guard quicker than a sense of security and superiority. People often mistake his genuine heart for nativity. They fail to recognize that it’s a choice, and deep down he is aware that the Al Asim name places him high above the people he sees as friends.

"Hm? Isn't that the alchemic lab on potionomics meant for second years? You're so smart! I didn't get to do that lab until just a few months ago! - it's not yours? Then why are you working on it?" <- game. set. match. You think he doesn't know what your handwriting looks like? He saw you lingering outside Crewel's classroom earlier and wanted to know why. Saw an opening. Took it. Is happy you’re helping out one of your other friends, but just had to make sure no one was bullying you into doing their work.

Since he truly believes that despite this gap, friendships can transcend - his ability to get information is uncanny. A power he can wield intentionally if need be, in getting you to name drop any person or problem posed. It’s a great quality to have! This way he can help and support you :) Why is this an inherited trait, you might be asking? Because as the next head of Al Asim, Kalim’s been studying how to do business since he was young. He’s going to teach you. Pray tell what is born once the Ramshackle Beast Tamer learns the ways of Scarabia’s master of charisma and resident sunshine child?…Night Raven’s downfall. Power couple. Dead serious right now.

Jewelry (Developed): Worth your weight in gold takes a new meaning. This isn’t in reference to being spoiled, mind you. This is about status and the meaning behind the jewels Kalim is imparting. The cultural significance. Considering that you’re not from twisted wonderland, you technically are a blank slate to all countries. Who better to learn from than someone who’s spent his childhood studying to become an expert in international trade? Kalim has enough tact to bite his tongue about the deep meaning behind the gifts. You may not understand just yet, but his excitement can’t be contained. Each bangle and piece from the family treasury has a small story. While he has no problem using his wealth to help people who need it, there’s a joy that comes from decorating his treasure’ in treasure. Y’know?

"Do you like it? This necklace was my mother's at our age. My father gifted it to her during a business trip to the Queendom of Roses. Ah - you can have it! Really! She has many others, and when I told her about you this was what she chose to have sent over. It's already yours! You can wear it to the next banquet, please?" <- Being the next head of House Asim, Kalim can't be with just anyone. Yet he seemed so happy in his letters, and Jamil vouched on your behalf - so this is your time to shine. Also, sending the necklace back would be like slighting his family's good will. You quite literally need to accept it.

Music (Inherited): Can you play an instrument? Sing? It starts out as wanting to be near him more - so you join the pop music club. Kalim, Cater, and Lilia are very convincing. So they push you to pick up something. Anything. It doesn't matter what, so long as you have fun with them. Even in the earliest stages where the notes come grated and your friends (Grim) make fun - Kalim is supportive without fault. His encouragement leads to proficiency and an appreciation for music. He'd love if you sing with him. Even if it's just a lullaby - no, especially so.

Habits He Steals:

Naming inanimate objects (Inherited): Your effort at making Kalim more money-conscious. The decite of sentimental attachment, if you will. It’s honestly a risky move to make considering the sheer amount of things that he owns, so naming everything is off the table. Yet it’s the silly things. Like seeing a face in the paintwork on one of his tapestries, and then deciding to dub it Artie. Oh no, Kalim we don’t need to get new artwork for the bathroom! What about Artie? It’s already pretty enough so lets just leave him there. No - no, that ring’s super pretty but the matching set from our anniversary is enough. We wouldn’t want Garnet and Pearl to think we were replacing them, right?

"I think Vinnie would work best on display, don't you? Purple and yellow are sure to catch people's attention from far away! Or maybe should we hang up Paolo? There are so many tapestries in Scarabia’s vault, I feel guilty only putting one up on display at our festival stall. Do you think they’d let us hang more?”<- It works. Kalim defiantly thinks twice. He's a bit like a kid refusing to give up their action figures after watching Toy Story, ya feel me?

Cooking (Inherited): Kalim is learning how to cook for himself as one step to being more self-sufficient. He only eats food that Jamil prepares, but with Viper’s seal of approval you’ve earned a pass. Essentially anything you both make with pre-approved ingredients is fair game. You pick a recipe every week, give Jamil the grocery list, and he makes sure to have the stuff in the dorm. Jamil is only okay with this so long as you supervise. Teaching Kalim is on your shoulders - and in all honesty? It’s an amazing bonding experience. Jamil can rest easy for a few hours and Kalim isn’t being thrown straight into the deep end. Obviously it’s only a small reprieve, and temporary since back at the Scalding Sands there are regulations in place. Kalim loves wearing matching aprons, humming little tunes while reading recipe books, watching cooking videos, learning about all the nutritional benefits in food, and really gets an appreciation after seeing how much work goes into his favorite dishes. There’s also that spark of joy when you sit down to eat, and it’s somehow one-hundred times better than eating with his family back home. Not that Kailm doesn’t love his siblings, but family really takes a new meaning when you see it coming together right before your eyes.

"Mph th-ish is sho gud! - how do you like it? Should we invite our friends to try some? It tastes almost like Jamil's! I bet if we keep at it, then we can cook up a banquet all on our own. That'll surely put everyone in a good mood!"

Skinship (Developed): Kalim is the type to initiate touch. Not receive it. If you look at his interactions with the others, he’s always the one throwing himself at them or being a vibrant glow-stick. Very few people give that back - and in truth? Like, honest to Seven truth? Kalim’s got no problem with it. Many people have bad intentions. Not everyone wants to be his friend, and that’s fine. They come to him looking to get in his good graces. It’s unnecessary…he’ll happily help without them twisting his feelings. All they need to do is ask. Do you know how easy it is for someone to prick him with a drugged needle? He’s not comfortable with physical contact that he does not initiate, unless it’s from someone he trusts. Like Jamil, Silver, Cater, his siblings, etc. Even they have a limit (which he’s confident will never be crossed, since again, Kalim is almost always the initiator). This list is subject to change…what, you think a family of 30+ kids can exist without animosity? He dreads the day he has to think of one of his little siblings becoming untrustworthy.

Anyways. Trust is a choice for Kalim. His happiness and extroverted optimism is all a choice. Sometimes on an unconscious level (*cough* his awareness of the divide between himself and Jamil, yet pushing the knowledge down until it inevitably hurt them both *cough*). So imagine reaching the point where he trusts you. It could be something small, like the first time you hug him from behind or lace your fingers together. Intimate. Not like Cater’s half sling over the shoulder, not like his little siblings hanging on his legs, or Jamil pushing him ahead while they walk. When he’s not initiating, and Kalim might hesitate for a moment. Hard to picture, I know, but by letting it be he’s choosing to trust you wholeheartedly. All in the span of like 5 seconds, and he might not even realize it until later on. Those of us who shine the brightest, usually have walls that are hard to see. Just some food for thought.

"Really? Really, really?? Really, really really??? Really - Ah! Sorry, I just can't believe it! There's so much I still don't know about them...but they're paying attention to me, huh? That's it! I need to work harder to be a worthy boyfriend! Starting right now, I'll become a better man!" <- Kalim. Sweetie. No. You're already the brightest boy. Your dormmates only brought the prefect's changes up to make you happy! I mean - mission successful? The goal was to motivate him and they technically succeeded. Just not for studying. He's 100% fired up with enough energy to run laps around the dorm now. He doesn't know what to do first, should he get Cater to help make you a playlist? Or have some flowers sent over? Would you prefer red roses or a mix of violets with chrysanthemums. Wait. Grim's 'technically' a cat, right? He should make sure not to send anything harmful to kitties. Maybe some tuna for him with chocolates for you? But this gift should be something you can keep. Ohhhh he is vibrating from excitement. He needs to show how much he loves you. Your attention and care truly means the world to him.

Habits You Steal:

Bug Spray (Developed): Jamil can and will throw you under the bus when faced with insects. Big hit to his pride, not his best moments, but he is NOT dealing with the absolute infestation at Ramshackle. You are spraying that place with heavy duty RAID if you want him over longer than ten seconds. If he so much as catches a GLIMPSE of a roach - nah. Just nah. He will shove that dustpan in your hands and send you to war. Don’t call him until it’s dead, the carcass has been disposed of, and you’ve wiped down. Grim’s a cat. Teach his ass to hunt. He needs to pay rent. You think he’s letting the flame-ball follow to the Scalding Sands after NRC? Jamil wants him on hinting duty for scarabs or else it’s time to prep hobo box.

“Burn it….Did you not hear me? I said. Burn. It. Better yet? Burn this whole damn building!” <-First night he decides to let Kalim handle Scarabia and humor you with a sleepover - and a giant spider decided to invade the shower. We’re talking big spider, maybe pregnant. Please keep in mind that during the VDC prep, Vil had Ramshackle deep cleaned. So the worst Jamil saw was a few ants. Now, the science club does meet in the Ramshackle garden often since you’ve cleaned it up, and Trey may grow plants that make the place insect central. Jamil was unaware of this. The gut wrenching scream that echoed through every room in the house. You’d think one of the ghosts pulled a cruel prank - but no. You didn’t even get a moment to investigate. The bathroom door flew open, Jamil running out still wet and drenching his pajamas. The death glare and spew of curses was the most genuine you’d ever seen him. Well, it could have been appreciated if not directed at you. Fix it or he will never set foot in this place ever again.

Spice Tolerance (Inherited): Not much to say here. He likes his food spicy. Sure, Jamil isn’t great with his words so his main love-language is bringing over tubbaware filled with food, and he does cater to your preferences more often than not. Except you undoubtedly will be eating what himself and Kalim eat most days. Which is packed with flavor. Grim isn’t complaining, food’s food. You? It’s funny to take a chomp out of ghost pepper like it’s a roma tomato, only for Ace to try and then start wheezing. Work them tastebuds, ya scrawny magic man. Heh.

"Can't handle the heat? Curry's a versatile dish. I could make something mild next time...you still want it? Why? Just because it's my favorite, doesn't mean you have to like it. Still not going to give it back? Alright. Lets see you clean that plate then." <- Flattered that you want to experience his favorite foods prepared to his tastes. For the record - Jamil likes it spicy spicy. Hotter than fiery vindaloo. Its an acquired taste and he really can alter the recipe if its too much. Won't unless you ask, because it's funny and oddly romantic seeing you sweat just trying to make him happy (Will hit the breaks in if you are getting sick from it. Does not play around).

Braids (Inherited): Paired with Jamil’s developed trait. Braids or hair beads - take your pick. Maybe both? Or a headscarf. His little sister - Najima, do you remember her? She’s the first Viper you get to spend time with during a trip to the Scalding Sands and gifts you either some hair beads or a headscarf as her unspoken blessing. Nothing fancy, and Jamil forced the coin in her hand for it, but she did take you through the markets while he was busy tending to other needs. It’s honestly really sweet, and Jamil will braid the beads or scarf in one of your side pieces of hair every morning (or wrap the scarf around your head. Not fancy like Kalim’s but still a knot he ‘insists’ will look better if he does it since you’re inexperienced. He could teach you. He won’t.)

Silence (Inherited): Shit just does not phase you anymore. Ever heard of the inability to keep calm until there's someone more panicked nearby? Jamil embodies this, being surrounded by emotive people all the time, and his perpetual state of indifference physically does not allow you to feel unsettled. If Jamil isn't bothered, then neither are you. It's that simple. Resting bitch face is contagious. Jamil's ability to handle Kalim comes in handy for raising Grim. You can now ignore his baby face and daily begging for premium tuna. Little kitty needs to expand his arsenal of tricks, because your will is stone.

"Bad day? Grab a cup. The dorm's usually quiet for the next hour. I'll be there in a moment." <- Queen never cry. If anything actually does phase either one of you, it normally ends the same way. Plopped on the floor of his bedroom, sipping hot tea and staring at the wall in comfortable silence while stewing in mutual suffering. Eventually you give him one of those starry sky projectors, and y'all ill stare at that instead. If it's a problem that has a tangible solution then it gets solved. Easy. This is for the 'yeah, life sucks' moments where all you can do is let it be before getting back up again. At least you have each other.

Habits He Steals:

Braids (Developed): Jamil can easily do his own hair. A flick of the wrist and it magically braids itself. Ebony locks carry memories of pain, growth - and change. Small change. Yet change nonetheless, which seemed impossible years ago. There’s something very intimate that comes with fixing another person’s hair. You’re not proficient enough to handle his cornrows (or are you? To his standard? As fast as magic?) but Jamil’s fine with changing his hair style to a simple triple braid, or a braid-band using the framing pieces that can crown around his head. So long as you do it for him every morning.

Fix-It-Felix (Developed): You know that one type of dad? The one who visits your home and looks for imperfections. He comes over, puts fresh produce in the fridge, mends the nail holes in the wall and fixes that one loose board on the steps that you made a habit to avoid. Barely says two words during his visit but seemingly solves half the problems you were procrastinating? This is Jamil. 100% Jamil when he comes to Ramshackle. He needs to make himself useful. And to scold someone. Grim more often than not, but you’re not safe. He really goes ‘bitch you live like this?’ at least once a week. Then proceeds to take preventative measures like a textbook tsundere.

“I put tangerines in the fridge since winter is coming. You need to be getting enough vitamin c and - where’s Grim? Don’t let him eat them all and make sure he knows not to light the fireplace tonight. There’s some cleaner on the bricks that needs to sit for a few hours…you know what? I’ll go with you to get him. Grab your heavy coat, it looks ready to rain.”

Dancing (Developed): Jamil participates in solo-dance during his downtime. It’s not like he had a partner to do duos with. Jamil also was not interesting in cozying up to a stranger just to learn a dance he would rarely have a moment to indulge in. Kalim’s the one who mentioned this in passing to you. His intentions were pure, of course. Just as they always are. He signed you both up for a ballroom dance class as a present for officially becoming a couple! Jamil finally had a partner and time to try, so why wait?! The vice in question wanted to deny since (1) who has time for that, (2) it was off campus, would take three hours out of every weekend for a month and (3) The chance of embarrassing himself was higher than he would like. Yet Kalim is smarter than most think, and purposefully handed the gift to you. Not Jamil. Along with the excited embellishment that Jamil could now do this ‘long desired’ class that really wasn’t high on his radar.

"If it makes you happy...then I don't mind. Just try to avoid stepping on my toes. Otherwise I'll demand compensation. What do I want? Wouldn't you like to know, prefect." <- Five seconds in and he yields. You weren't going to let him out of it - no matter what excuse Jamil came up with. He'll put up with it and get back at Kalim later. The chance to spend time with you for that long is rare, and Jamil isn't the type to squander opportunities. No matter his personal feelings on the 'gift' in question.

Except Jamil finds the entire experience pleasant and hates that it’s all thanks to Kalim. Dancing with you is entirely different than dancing alone. It’s clumsy, new, and honestly tiring since he needs to lead. Especially in anything fast pace like a quickstep or to swing. It’s also three hours out of the week that Jamil isn’t maintaining his composure. Just you, him, and the instructor since Kalim splurged on private lessons. It’s liberating and Jamil wants to keep with it far beyond after the class ends. Even if it’s just slow-dancing in the common room to one of those vintage records stowed at Ramshackle. Seven, let him have this.

‘We’ instead of ‘Me’ (Inherited AND Developed): Automatically assumes that any invites are for you too. Jamil is used to thinking this way. Except the ‘we’ applied to Kalim, with Jamil as a plus one. Jamil did not want to be part of that ‘we’. Hence why he would only refer to Kalim when laying plans out. ‘Kalim has dance lessons at six, then dinner at seven, then study until 10 and then bed. Tomorrow, Kalim’s going to a banquet head by the treasure’s family and then returning to campus.’ The unspoken truth being that Jamil’s schedule matched. He followed, but was never on board with being Kalim’s ‘we’. He has always been a ‘me’ and made an active effort to preserve all his ‘me’ moments. For someone so self-aware…Jamil isn’t sure when he began to view you as his ‘we’. Only that when you auto-included him in everything…it was less strenuous than with Kalim. Far less. Easy to adapt. In the past, Jamil believed a partnership to be another chain. Perhaps being a ‘we’ was never supposed to hurt.

“Thanks for the invitation, but we’re staying in tonight…. No, not Kalim. The Prefect. What? I’m not speaking for them. If my word’s not good enough, just go ask the prefect yourself.” <- Other people might look at him and think he’s treating you like Kalim. Oh, how wrong they are.

Texting (Inherited): Jamil’s not used to someone keeping tabs on him. You’re going to see him within the hour, why does he need to call before going to wake up Kalim? Why do you need a text that he’s back in his dorm before you’re able to sleep? Why do you show up in Scarabia at one in the morning, throwing rocks at his window, if he forgets? (Jamil never forgets. He just had to reign in some rowdy first years and couldn’t catch a break. It was on his mind. Really.) It’s not the worst demand. A five minute call while he’s prepping breakfast and a few messages to know he’s going to rest are a small price to pay. Turns out a little rundown of his day before bed makes sleeping a ‘little’ bit easier. Huh.

“I don’t see it.” <- A lie spoken with the most monotone tone possible. Jamil rolls his eyes over the rim of his mug, taking a sip before turning the page in his book. Najima scoffs before returning to her magazine. She can say he’s softened up all she wants. He won’t admit to it. Doesn’t mean she’s wrong in the slightest. Jamil’s well aware that hopes and wants denied to him from birth have begun to stir within him. No matter how small the changes may be, Jamil isn’t foolish enough to give those emotions his attention. Not if he wants to keep them. Good things always escape his grasp…his wounds are too fresh to get comfortable just yet.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[ritavonbees]

Diversity is a Family Value

There's been a lot of critique of the Born This Way narrative that I won't retread, but something I'm thinking about now is how its logical implications really never got belaboured to the people who needed to hear it. The right-centrist Family Values cultural sphere settled into a kind of "well they can't help being like that but do they have to shove it in my face" reluctant tolerance. But surely if you were taking family values seriously, the next step is... someone could be Born This Way in my family. In fact, the more kids I have the more likely it is that at least one of them will be some flavour of LGBTQ. What's best for my family if it turns out the diversity is coming from inside the house? Is it having all the diversity corralled in the designated diversity area where I don't have to look at it? Or is it a community that diversity is peacefully integrated into so my kids have role models for whatever kind of adult they're growing into?

What Born This Way ultimately demanded was to fundamentally give up the delusion of cast-iron control of your own children, the kind of delusion that can only be maintained by disowning or destroying any children that refuse to be controlled. And from here it looks like that just didn't take. But with or without that particular narrative, we need to keep trying to break the delusion, because that's what stands in the way of cis, straight, etc people's love for their family turning them into allies.

This applies to disability too, btw - imagine the power of the Autism Mom lobby if they learned to listen to autistic adults instead of pseudoscience peddlers. If you fully internalise the idea that you could have queer or disabled kids or grandkids, completely jettison the idea that there's always something you can and should do to avoid it, then you personally benefit from living in a community where queer and disabled people visibly thrive. At that point, it doesn't actually matter whether your gay uncle, or the trans lady who works at the library, or the teacher in the wheelchair was "born that way"/has tried hard enough not to be/etc. What matters is accepting that your child or grandchild could be fundamentally different from you in some way, simply on account of that's how humans work, and if that happens you will want someone to ask for advice, someone who's started the work of making your community accessible to your child, someone who just by being around proves to your child that it's worth trying to live through their teens. And if it doesn't happen to you it'll happen to your neighbour or your colleague or someone from your church. So why wait?

[inkskinned]

it's just that there's a few more steps you have to take that other people don't have to take, but they don't see the steps, so they think you should be able to hop from moment to moment, a chickadee.

it isn't getting out of bed. it is the weight, the hook in your chest, the anchor. you have to move the anchor first. you have to silence your alarm, but your phone is in your hand, which means now you have to put the phone down, which is too-hard. you get stuck in there for a while, the white screen, mindlessly scrolling. you don't even like this activity, have tried a few other options but - here you are, and time is passing.

you've googled iron deficiency causes depression and if i drink enough water does it help with mental illness and anxiety but no caffiene within the last two weeks, like how you googled am i gay quiz at 17.

it isn't just calling the doctor back, it's the anxiety, it's these little moths in your lung cavities, furious and fluttering. you need to figure out how to capture your fingers from between their nervous bodies. you are an adult, you can say the words yes hi, i'm calling because i need - but you need to practice first. maybe write it down because what if you misspeak, wouldn't that be embarrassing. write it down, but you need to find a pen first. well, actually, your desk is kind of messy. you should get a new pen. you should get a new organizational system. you should try journaling.

your grades in school were always strange. the way teachers would say things like it feels like you're not trying. you could touch stars in the stuff you cared about. well, sometimes. god be willing. homework average zero. oops! your english teacher's wrinkled brow: i know you know this stuff. what the fuck are you doing?

it isn't the showering, it's the mirror before the shower and the soft horrible pull of your naked physique. you have to avoid eye contact completely or else it'll be 93 minutes later and you'll have picked at your skin until every little pore is bleeding. you have to stand up but standing is tiring and also you should have remembered to buy more soap but you never remember anything. maybe get out of the shower and while it's still running and you're still dripping wet, use your phone to take a note. make a note to get your groceries. let the shower run while you stand half-in half-out and get lost in your phone for a moment. come back out when the water runs cold and now you have to sprint to get ready.

your grandmother's frown. you're just being lazy. protestant work ethics in a house that isn't even protestant. she says she just learned different but she means learned better, doesn't she.

it's not that you can't send the email, it's that your hands have been hurting lately and the desk really is messy and also why the fuck would you even care about this thing? doesn't everyone else feel like they're drowning? hi brendon thanks so much for sending! will review and get back to you shortly. but now you're on the internet, close the tab with tumblr on it. go on, close it. feel the little soft vapor of boredom come up and over your eyeteeth and make everything overwhelming and itchy.

literally all you have to do is put on shoes to go outside. you're literally already dressed, that's the hard part of this whole thing. literally just put the shoes on. just... do it! do it! this shit is easy!

it's literally that easy. just stop taking all those stupid invisible steps. stop following your strange made-up rules. times like this, even you're positive you're faking. you just don't want to bother with the cleaning and the cooking and the being-an-adult.

but then - shouldn't you be able to put these stupid shoes on? nobody's even looking. go on kid. life is out there! just take the leap!

get moving.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

saved this for valentines day because i am so astronomically down bad for this man. anyway bodyguard! chuuya 🤍🫧❄️ gn! on the first section, nsfw f! below the divider 💌

bodyguard! chuuya, who born to do this job. who is a natural protector, who can be both rough and affectionate, fiercely loyal even to a fault, even if it seals his fate. but even statues crumble if they're made to break.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has lost everything that he's ever cared about. who is sure it's a curse- that whatever comes close to his heart is sent to fall into ruins, a product of gravity. he knows that he should have faith, but finds himself questioning the universe, if he's simply destined to be alone. who contemplates even getting close to you on this job, if he'll only end up more alone.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has the powers of a god that he didn't ask for. who sometimes wakes up in a cold sweat, dreary eyes picturing glowing red marks up and down his skin, weaving around his limbs, a monstrous form he's scared of bringing to late. who sometimes feels that his desire to be human are like the last drops of an ink pen- something that isn't going to work.

bodyguard! chuuya, who isn't sure if he should open up to you, who knows that the most singing pains of the heart come from stabs while vulnerable. who knows that by admitting his faults, he opens himself up to betrayal- the one thing he hates most in the world. who learns from you that to be hurt is to be human, and that his pain is a symbol of that humanity.

bodyguard! chuuya, who barely catches himself falling for you. who starts out his task as a simple mission- protect you, and nothing more. who fails to see you cracking the locks in his chest, crashing into you like a head on collision. who falls so hard and so fast, his feelings appear to him as a paradox. he's lost everyone, and the universe is giving him another chance to protect them.

bodyguard! chuuya, who you share a vow with, one that you'll both uphold. his is to protect you, to throw himself in front of flames and bullets to keep a smile on your face. where yours is to imagine things that haven't happened yet, keeping him grounded, teaching him that it's okay to love. that he may be dangerous, or deemed wicked, or a monster, but that you don't care. that you see him for him, and thats enough for you.

bodyguard! chuuya, who does so much more than protect you from physical threats. who holds your hand during panic attacks, stroking your hair and letting you breathe with him. who holds your hair back when you throw up, and carries you back to bed. who will kiss your hand and hug you when you need someone, when you need him. who sometimes struggles to keep his longings locked, knowing he needs to protect you, and wonders if that means protecting you from him- from the monster he knows he can be.

bodyguard! chuuya, who melts in your touch, never crossing the line, never wanting to make you uncomfortable or unsafe. who, even after learning you feel the same, hesitates. he isn't supposed to love, or care. everyone who has ever come close to him has ended up leaving. who learns that you have a funny way of surprising him, of assuring him that if this isn't forever, it'll be for as long as it lasts. a star that burns out is shines brighter than infinite darkness. given the choice between forever with someone or a night with chuuya? the choice is obvious.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

bodyguard! chuuya, who is a passionate lover. who indulges in messy kisses, setting your bedsheets ablaze with every touch. who will slowly undress you, pulling down the fabric, unlacing and undoing whatever he needs. who sees more and more skin as just more area he gets to lavish and love, gazing at every part of you- from the tip of your nose to the very depths of your soul- with nothing short of perfect adoration.

bodyguard! chuuya, who talks you through it. who asks if you like this position or if his fingers feel good. who looks up at you while he goes down on you, lips wrapped around your clit, fingers angled just right, and asks if you feel good- as if you haven't been bawling his name.

bodyguard! who does it slow and passionate. making sure his cock reaches in at your deepest parts, savoring how your pussy clamps down on him. who will take your wrists and pin them on either side of your head, forehead against yours, moaning in unison with you while he drags in and out so slow its agonizingly pleasurable. who draws out your orgasms for as long as possible, rubbing circles on your clit, kissing your tits, licking your body until you're on fire.

bodyguard! chuuya, who can just as easily be an asshole in bed. who flips you around and tosses you into positions until you find one you like. who is always open to experimentation- seeing what pet names you like, how long you can go, if you like getting worshipped or punished. who doesn't stop until your gushing, melting in pleasure or getting pounded into the sheets.

bodyguard! who grits his teeth in pleasure when he takes you from the back, feeling you wrapped around his cock like a warm, wet, vice. who lets you adjust for however long you need to, sensing your impatience and desperation to feel him deep. who holds your hands behind your back, leaning down, telling you how good you're doing before fucking you into oblivion.

bodyguard! chuuya, whose idea of a date is seeing how many times he can creampie you until you're thoroughly wrecked. who takes it like a challenge, pushing your thighs up to your chest, burying himself deep, finding the right angle before stuffing you full of his seed. who sees your teary eyes, mouth stuck in an O shape and hoarse throat, he knows he's doing something right. who, after about the 3rd or 4th time he's gotten you cumming (he's lost tracked) finally stops bullying orgasms out of you and lays you down on the bed.

bodyguard! chuuya, who has found something worth protecting, laying next to you, pulling your body close to his. whispers that he'll pick up where he left off in the morning, before kissing you goodnight. <3

[cyberrose2001]

HUMAN PET AU <3

Ratchet finally comes home from working all day at the med bay, the poor medic is tired as hell and just wants to relax in the comfort of his own berth. Fortunately enough, ratchet owns an exotic pet. A human he has grown fond of. They are fully trained and even have their own collar (with the message “Please return to Ratchet if lost” written on it), they have also learned how to help Ratchet de-stress by letting him use their hole as his personal flesh light <3 His happy little human loves becoming his cum dump to help him get his frustrations out, such a helpful little pet <33

any continuity of ratchet is fine (pick ur fav!), afab but gender neutral reader please and thank you moni 🙏❤️‍🩹

A Sight For Sore Optics - Human Pet AU

IDW/MTMTE Ratchet x human! afab! gn!Reader

Hi Gem! Thank you so much for your request, I was literally foaming at the mouth ready to write this. To make this more anatomically possible, Ratchet's spike transforms to a more "safer" size. So I hope this is good please be good (I haven't finished reading mtmte yet so forgive me). Also if I have missed any tags please let me know!

Warnings: Xenophilia, Size Kink, Collaring, Oral (both receiving and giving), Masturbation, Praise Kink, Cum Dumping, Mild Dubious Consent (?)

Word Count: 2.3k

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Another day, another few thousand miles of endless space, another few sickly bots. Additionally, a few unkempt humans requiring attention due to poor conditions from their previous owners. With the new organic additions to the Lost Light at the captain's approval, Ratchet had found himself biting off more than he could chew, looking after bots and humans. Oh, how he wished he took up an organic health course or something other than primarily relying on Brainstorm's fervent research on the tiny creatures. Between juggling it all, Ratchet was unsure how much more his threadbare servos could take. Still, there was one thing the old medic was unmistakable about. He was tired.

One good thing, he must admit, is that he gets to return to you. His own human pet, a personal 'Thank you' gift on behalf of the entire crew for his selflessness and hard work, provided with you a basket with fundamental necessities. But the basket had long since been used up, and he had transformed it into a makeshift cot for you. It'll do for now, he had thought.

He was initially still trying to figure out what to think of you. Apart from very rudimentary health checkups and nutritional foods, there wasn't much that Ratchet could provide for you. There's not many enriching activities for such a tiny human like yourself. Until that is, he discovered something quite unusual that had been exhibited in almost every human adopted by the crew so far.

You have an insatiable libido.

Ratchet was unsure, if not downright nervous if other owners were to discover how incredibly beneficial humans could be. Whether or not they had already learned was an entirely different story. It wouldn't surprise Ratchet if that was the very reason why human pets were approved, though it seems shocking. It all seemed so innocent enough, adopting humans for the cuteness factor for the mechs on board. But as with most things, there's always more than just the surface level of what the optic sees. And Ratchet was already way too far below the surface.

Punching in the code for his hab suite, Ratchet waits eagerly for the door to open with twitching digits. He steps inside, tossing whatever work essentials he has on hand on the first bench he sees. He'll worry about reorganising later. Right now, he needs some pet therapy and a well-overdue overload. The dull ache behind his panels only gets stronger as his pedes carry him to his berthroom to you, curled up on his berth. It looked as if you neglected your rudimentary cot, choosing to sleep on his berth instead. The medic can't help the softened expression as he melts at the sight. Of all the things he didn't think he deserved, he never once expected it to be such an adorable little thing like you.

He lets his pedes wander over to you, like countless times before, careful and delicate. He always told himself that this 'fling' he had with you was only temporary and that it was purely for his curiosity, but he tends to find himself aching for you repeatedly. He can't help how his racing neurocircuits seem to fizzle out and calm down when he lies with you.

A roughened servo brushes over your hair to slowly stir you. It looked like you had been napping for some time now, which he believes is a good thing. Brainstorm did say that humans tend to sleep better in environments they consider comfortable. The gentle brushing causes you to stir and lift your head to greet him, though in a language yet to be deciphered. It's a pleasant greeting, and Ratchet can tell they're happy to see him. Something along the lines of 'I missed you,' he'd like to think.

"Hey, squishy. I missed you too," Ratchet smiles warmly. He brushes the hair away from your neck to reveal a collar, "You haven't ripped it off yet. Seems like you like it, hm?"

A slight, sleepy nod in confirmation, you've grasped at what he said. Ratchets' digits trail down to the collar, a small silver plate that reads 'Please Return to Ratchet If Lost - HabSuite ###" engraved in Cybertronian. Not that you tend to wander off, but more or less a just in case. Plus, he gets a thrill seeing his name attached to you. He thumbs it gently, admiring his handy work.

"I'm glad you do. It took me quite some time to make," Ratchet tugs at it softly, beckoning you to come closer. He watches you climb onto his lap, "Such tiny adornments are complex to create, 'specially with hands like mine." A servo cups your back, his thumb moving to play with your soft chest. He shivers when he hears a tiny whimper from you, and you seem eager to play with him already.

"I've had a busy day," A mechanical noise of shifting gears as his spike slides out of its housing, "I think you know what I need." It's well and truly bigger than you, much bigger than your tiny body could ever take. But the way your eyes light up in excitement assures Ratchet that you are more than pleased, already desperately taking off your quirky frame coverings. He eyes off your cute organic valve, notices how dripping wet it is, and staves off a moan.

"C'mere for a second," Ratchet scoops you into his servo to bring you closer to his face. He gets a whiff of your arousal, so earthy and addicting. The more you spread your thighs for him, the more he can smell. He brings you to his intake and licks one hearty stripe up your folds.

Oh yes, he thinks. Better than energon. Better than any high grade to ever pass his dermas, like a warm drink that soothes and revitalises his senses. It thickens on his glossa, groaning at the taste as he swirls it around your little node. He watches intently as you squeal in delight, your thighs trembling around his cheeks and how your little face contorts into one of pleasure. Well, he had always presumed it was in pleasure; you've never exactly shied away from his glossa. He hums when you feel him grinding, desperate little ruts chasing the vibrations.

Ratchet licks one last time at your slick, pulling away to observe. Oral lubricants coat your valve thickly, the sensitive area reddened from his torment. His optics wander up; your soft skin is already flushed and glistening with sweat. He wonders how close you were to overloading; it wouldn't have taken much longer if he had kept going. But his spike grows restless, throbbing against his abdominal plating, begging to be touched by much softer palms than his own.

"Do you want my spike? Hm?" Ratchet teases, "My big spike?" He knows you can't fully understand him, but he can't help but vocalise his salacious fantasy. Holding onto you carefully, he lounges back onto the berth. He bites his bottom derma and lowers you to his lap, showing you his engorged spike, "Go on then, have at it. I'll frag your little brains out soon."

With an encouraging nudge from Ratchet, you straddle the shaft. To anyone else, it looks ridiculous. A tiny human desperately attempting to wrap their arms around a spike that's two times taller than they are. But to any depraved fleshy fragger, it's a sight to behold. Ratchet once thought of snapping a picture to potentially maybe sell it to the highest bidder for those who crave the feeling of such a soft body grinding on them, for he is sure there's a market out there somewhere, probably more than half of the crew onboard. Still, the shame of it all prevents him. There's an image to uphold being the resident medic.

Besides, he'd much prefer to keep you and that curious tongue all for himself.

He feels your little licks along him, a tiny tongue wiggling through the grooves and smooth surface, reaching crevices with hidden nodes that cause his pedes to curl. Soft ruts of your hips press your soaked valve right up against him. He knows what you want. The medic brings a servo to grip around his spike with you squished between, only tight enough to keep you in place as he begins self-servicing himself. He hears you letting out a surprised gasp, then a muffled moan, feeling your grip tighten around him.

"Yeah? You like that, squishy?" Ratchet moans, moving his servo slightly faster, "I bet you-nghh do. You look so cute like that. So tiny pressed against my spike."

Only a taste of your warmth is given through your body, like the little tease you are. Ratchet feels the perspiration dripping off you, likely due to the rise of his internal temperature and the energon being solely diverted to his array. It makes for a mediocre yet acceptable lubrication. He could spike you with it alone, but Ratchet prefers to use alternate practices in the interest of your health. Primus knows how careless other Cybertronians can be with their pets.

The medic is becoming increasingly aware of his overload and yours by the looks of things, your little optics squeezed shut, and your limbs clamped tight around his girth. He consciously decides to stop before you reach it. The idea of you squirming on his spike played on his processor a bit too well. He hears your soft whine at the loss of friction, which Ratchet can't help but chuckle at.

"I know, I know. I'm so mean, aren't I? Hold on, squishy." Ratchet lets you rest against his palm while his weeping spike whirs and clunks inwards to a much more manageable size for a human. His spike may be smaller, but there's not much difference in sensation. Thank Primus for the minicon-compatability modes, "You alright?"

A small squeak from you, yes. The medic watches intently as you waste no time climbing on, guided by his careful servo. You press your little valve against the tip, hissing as it barely slips through. Ratchet digs his pedes into the berth at the intense sensation, gritting his dentae as you bottom out. The feeling is incomparable to anything else; it's uniquely organic, warm, and so, so much softer than mesh.

He then wraps his entire servo around you, effectively turning you into one perfect spike sleeve only for him. Perfectly snug inside you, his grip clenches and unclenches around your torso before gently unsheathing himself from you again.

Ratchet is always careful when he uses you in this manner, ensuring his grip isn't too tight. He pushes you back down again, and he feels you melt into his servo. He hears your little whimpers and cries for him, to go faster, he believes. He learned a long ago that he doesn't need to understand your verbal mumbles when your fleshy hips try to hastefully force yourself down onto him, only halted by his own hand. His grip ever so tightens and gives in to your desperation, or more or less his own.

"You're so good for me, squishy. Hah- Lettin' me use your little valve like a toy." Ratchet mewls, his helm lolling off to the side as his optics flick between your face and the way his spike disappears inside you, "Such a helpful little pet you are."

He feels your velvet walls clamp down on him with each and every praise he gives, your little arms draped over the top of his thumb, clinging on for dear life. Every now and then, he massages your breasts pressed up against it, eliciting more dirty moans from you. Such softness that he can't help but take advantage of.

"So- ngh- tight," Ratchet vents heavily, "Primus, you've ruined me for my own race."

He felt a twinge of shame hearing himself; it was as if he had entirely let himself go. But he knows he can no longer turn back, not when you're the best little creature to ever stumble into his life. Despite him having you wrapped around his digits, it is indeed him wrapped around yours. The relief you bring to him after every gruelling shift, after every stressful day upon this damned ship, had him truly addicted.

And with an internal affirmation of decadence and with your soft little valve clenching and pulsing around his spike, he's sent right over the edge.

"Frag yes, sweetspark!-" He glitches out, pressing you down on his thick shaft as far as your soft little body can tolerate. His energon pulses deeply and shocks his entire body with an overload, shooting gush after gush of transfluids into you. His frame lurches forward, his hips driving into the berth as he milks his throbbing spike, his servo driving it deeper into you in a lust-filled daze. Your whines and cries only spur him on more, and he doesn't stop until you're shaking like a leaf in his hold.

It takes only a few more moments for a spent Ratchet to collapse back with you still in his grip, albeit slumped against his thumb. You're panting hard, and he can only just feel your tiny heart pounding against him. You must have had your own overload by the looks of it if the bliss-filled smile on your soft lips is anything to go by. His optics linger down to your soft, distended stomach and the dripping mess that splatters across your thighs and onto his pelvic plating. Now that truly is a sight for sore optics, he thinks to himself.

Ratchet huffs, bringing his other servo to pat the top of your head, "Now there's my happy little human, huh?" He smiles warmly when he feels you leaning into his touch, "How 'bout I fill you up some more?"

If this was what it took for the old medic to de-stress and relax, then so be it. If he were to be exposed to the rest of the crew, then may he join the rest of them. In secret, for now, he will proudly declare himself a lover of organic flesh.

[aphroditesmoon]

wish you'd ask me

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: you're not good at reading subtle hints, clarisse realises that maybe she should've been more upfront with her feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, clarisse is down bad, reader is very neurodivergent coded, kissing, flirting, title n fic inspired by 'Wish You'd Ask Me' by Matt Maltese.

A/N: thank you for 1.9k followers!! I love you all dearly, my ask box and dms r always open, im glad that my writing is being enjoyed by so many people<3

wc: 4.5k

You have been in camp half blood for more than 4 years. You have made yourself at home for the last several years. 

It was easy to view yourself as lesser or inadequate in comparison to other mortals during your days in the real world before you were sent to camp. The world has never failed to remind you of how different you were. Always too much or not good enough, always special and never normal

And it wasn't like you were dying for some sort of diagnosis to justify why you are the way you are, but upon discovering that you were actually a demigod, it felt like all the questions you've been harboring to yourself was finally answering themselves. 

Everything clicked. Everything made sense, though at the same time, it felt impossible. You were a very confused little girl when you first arrived at camp. A girl who just wanted someone to tell them that it'll all be alright in the end.

And you still remembered the first person to hold you by your shoulders and made you look into their eyes as they told you that it was all going to be okay.

The girl with beautiful long curls and dark piercing eyes. The girl that everyone else, apparently, was afraid of.

But you could never be afraid of Clarisse La Rue. 

Not with the way she smiles when every time she sees you, the way she never fails to make you feel included even in activities you're not capable of participating in. Not with the way your whole body electrifies every time your skin touches, when your hands brush against each other. 

It didn't matter what anyone think, because no one could change the perception you've built of her. Clarisse La Rue is good. Or at least she is to you.

When you first heard of the rumours surrounding her, you did think better than to force a friendship on her. You strayed away from her and stuck to your cabin siblings and your books, but you noticed daily how she'd still go out of her way to talk to you at least once a day.

It didn't need to be a long conversation, just a passing acknowledgement. An easygoing 'hey, how've you been doing.' Sometimes she'd even go as far as cracking a joke with you.

With how serious her face is whenever she make the jokes, you'd have to think twice as hard and thrice as faster than another person to try and guess if she was being genuine or not so you could fit in a necessary laugh when you needed to.

Even as her anger became more apparent because of the new kid's accidental climb to fame and embarrassing the Ares' cabin, she still found time to make a conversation with you.

It had been long since you tried to ignore or avoid her. You learned that her attention towards you is harmless, and that she seemed much more comfortable telling you certain things compared to others. If she has been viewing you as some sort of safe box, then you don't really mind it. You liked listening to her talk and keeping her heart's intent as your secret.

You too, talking to her. To some people, you are reserved,  

and to others, talkative. Either way, people find it easy to discard you at any moment they decide you are irritating.

But Clarisse listens. And she asks questions, she's patient- much patient that anyone could anticipate or guess. 

It may be hard for others to believe, but Clarisse is more complex than she seems. She had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the capacity to respect boundaries. The more time you spent with her, the more that side becomes easy for you to access.

Today, however,  marks a new record for your friendship with her. A few weeks ago, she had informed you of her newfound interest in the history of folklore monsters. What a coincidence that you were currently self-studying on that specific topic.

She insisted that you hook her in on whatever it is you're learning. She had even gotten you a doughnut to eat together outside the library as you told her of your insights of dragons and their theorized blindness and incapability to differentiate a variety of prey.

The conversation went well, she seemed immensely in awe of your knowledge and had no problem telling you how she felt. 

You even gave her some book recommendations, though you knew she wasn't much of a reader.

You felt a shift in your relationship that night and had spent the next three days studying more and more about the topic. And today, you had asked her to spend the evening with you. 

You shouldn't feel so nervous asking her to hang out. That is what friends do, after all.

She found you in the library, sitting on the floor in between two large bookshelves. She had been right on time and enthusiastically so. The two of you sat together, hidden by the shelves as some semblance of privacy. 

Clarisse looked confused when you had explained that you indeed wanted to spend the rest of the day in the library, but she accompanied you anyways.

You could never get sick of the smell of the books. Old and new, they all have some nostalgic past tied in between the pages, begging to be discovered. 

You had your back on the walls with tinted windows above your head as she's seated opposite of you in a criss-crossed position.

Today, the library isn't as packed as usual. There were still people walking in and out and checking out the books on the counter, but not too many that it became obnoxiously loud and annoying. 

After finishing another book of Monsters and how to spot them, you're feeling knowledgeable enough to explain the lore of the Giants to Clarisse, she had asked you about this the other day, giants have been long extinct to the point that some might even say they may have never even existed. And so you were interested in sharing with her all of the information you have learned about the majestic species of a beast.

You started with the general information. The basic understanding of what a Giant is the mythhs of Giants and the validity of those sources. Clarisse listened closely in the beginning, never interrupting you unless she had an actual question.

She seemed in awe of the stories you tell her of. You don't blame her, for you yourself have been most interested in the topic of Giants.

You were an hour an a half in when noticed her attention faltering. She leaned against the cases of books, her eyes twitched slightly when you began to explain the different types of giants, and the difference of how they operate.

Her hands are folded together on her lap, and you can feel her listening in on everything you're telling her as she adds in some commentary here and there, but you also felt that she wasn't entirely in on the conversation.

The dim lights of the library made the atmosphere feel warm and secluded, even with its vast space and many other campers hanging around in the other tables and shelves. You made sure to keep your voice low as you spoke in fear of the librarian kicking you out. 

You had a good reputation with the library workers, they liked how organized and polite you were. 

"A lot of people think their greatest strength is their size, which is valid, they are huge, but their real weapon is their mouth." You told Clarisse, ignoring the litter of books by your left that you had brought over for reference.

"They kiss you to death?" She asks suspiciously. You laughed shortly and shook your head. "No, I mean their breath."

She responds with an 'ohh.' 

"They're giants, so their mouth is large too, and you can easily tell what they had for breakfast even from their tall height. Their breaths are also known to be so rancid it could kill you, because they don't exactly eat what we eat." 

She raises a brow as she stretches her hands upwards. "Isn't that ogres?" 

"It's both." You confirmed.

You were about to continue your explanation but halted by instinct as you notice how her mouth keeps pursing together as if unsatisfied, and she has that look on her face that mimicked a confused expression. You're don't think there's anything to be confused of.

"Are you okay?" You asked her worriedly. Clarisse sits up straighter at the question and waved a hand off to assure you she's fine. "Of course, no yeah- I'm fine."

"You seem bored, you're not really interested in what I'm saying are you?” She opens her mouth to counter your words but hesitates to say anything. 

"I- well, I like giants-" She attempts, "-no you don't. " 

"No. I don't." She admits with a sigh. "But I thought you said you were interested in these kind of stuff?" You questioned her. "Well, yeah, like the general idea of it. I mean, I don't hate it, and I like hearing you talk about it." She answers with a shrug.

"Then why do you look disappointed? If you didn't want to come, you could've just told me. I wouldn't get mad." You told her honestly. It was conflicting for you to see her so confused on what to say, being so picky with the words she chooses.

You figured she's probably reluctant to hurt your feelings. That is a notion you're used to. You'd rather she tell you the truth to your face than to be catered around like a time ticking bomb that everyone's so afraid might explode at any time. 

"When you asked me out yesterday, you told me this would be an 'evening to remember." She tells you with such confidence like it was an explanation to her weird behaviour today.

"You don't think this is an evening to remember?" You sincerely inquire.

"No, I do! I just- well, when you said that I didn't think you'd mean we'd be doing this." Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what she means, eyeing her body language closely. “What do you mean? I told you I wanted to hang out.” 

A part of you is offended. She was the one who had said she liked hearing you speak, why would she be disappointed that this was your idea of spending time together?

"I don't know, I thought we'd just be doing...something else?"

It didn't matter what she had really meant with that. You felt completely embarrassed once she finished her sentence. Why was it that everyone else had no problem having long conversations with their friends, but when it came to you, it's all too awkward, unnecessary, and odd? 

You liked Clarisse, you considered her your friend. Sometimes you wonder if it could ever be more, but you never entertain those thoughts because you don't want to ruin what the two of you already have. 

But moments like these resemble a huge slap in the face by the universe.

You couldn't even be good friends with her, how ridiculous of you to think that there could ever be something more.

"Okay, um, maybe we should just go back to our cabin." You decided whilst standing up and picking up the stack of books you're currently borrowing from the library, ready to leave the place without waiting for her.

"Hey, wait." She called out as you walked past her. You spared her a glance, trying your best not to show how upset you are.  “We're friends." She says it so much like a question that you weren't sure if she's even sure of the fact herself until she continued speaking. "I like hanging out with you."

Another thing that you weren't sure if she really meant. "Sure." You replied thinking it's the most suitable response. 

Before she could say anything else, you turned around and started picking up your pace until you disappeared out of her sight.

—

You have been consistently ignoring Clarisse. Which proved to be harder than expected.

When you pass by her camp or the training ground, you make a mental note to always look down or to your front as to never accidentally cross eyes with her.

And everytime you hear her call out your name, you keep walking like you didn't even hear her, knowing that she wouldn't be bold enough to call for you again. After all, she still had a reputation to uphold.

If ignoring her wasn't hard enough, having to deal with how you felt for her is worse.

You've been avoiding confrontation with yourself for weeks even before you decided to go no contact with her.

And so far, you thought you've been handling it pretty well. Except for days where you don't see her where she's expected to be. You tell yourself that you don't care as you make your way to training in the day and reading in the evening, and yet you still go back on your own words when you asked a passerby Ares kid on where his cabin leader was.

"She's dunking some kid's head into a toilet bowl." Of course she was.

You thanked the dude and went back on your way to your cabin. It's close to dusk, the sky is turning orange and the sun is dipping itself below the earth. You take your time returning to your cabin as you enjoy the way the sun slowly removes itself from anyone's viewing.

You wondered to yourself if things like these are what makes you weird or off-putting to some people.

Was enjoying nature and having niche interests only cute when it's done by girls pretty enough to be cool or if it's only in romance movies or books.

You don't find yourself weird, in fact you think all of your hobbies are pretty common and usual, and yet the way Clarisse had spoken to you at the library last week had made you feel unnatural.

You had wanted to do normal people things with her, but maybe your perception of normal is different to her.

Either way, you are pretty hurt with how she reacted. You loved her still, of course. It's kind of hard to unlike the girl you've been obsessed with since you were 15.

Once you finally reach your cabin, you quickly put down all of your books and your tiny sling back by the side before making it to the shower to refresh yourself before dinner.

You thought it hilarious of how hard you're trying not to care about Clarisse, and yet as you're cleaning yourself up, changing your clothes and attempting to read at least 15 pages of your World's Most Dangerous Beasts book, you could only think of her.

What would it take for her to think that you're cool, what kind of things did she want to do instead of listening to you yap around for 2 hours on what is an equivalent of a boring dinosaur facts, not that you really think dinosaurs are boring.

During dinner, you kept to siblings and had to make yourself finish your plate as your anxiety wrecking thoughts have a way of deriving you of an appetite. You also had to convince yourself to not search for her at the other tables which took more strength than one would expect.

But you succeeded, and you were now sure that the only obstacle left for the day was to try and fall asleep without the thoughts of her keeping you up.

Clarisse is a force, a fierce daughter of Ares, and a cabin leader who had much better things to do then hole up at quiet small places with you.

And just because she was nice enough to mantain a good relationship with you for 4 years, does not mean that you're worth her time. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

That night, you managed to fall asleep after an hour of recalling Harpy facts in repetition. Counting sheeps had never worked on you, so you had to find something much more active to tire out your brain.

You dreamed of Clarisse with her hair down, holding your hand and pulling you closer so she could slip a flower on your ear.

And just as she's looking down at you, moving closer to do what it seemed like to kiss you, you awoke with a jolt, swearing under your breath as if you'd just gotten jumpscared by a ghost.

Someone's palms moved to shut your lips as you're met with a girl, hovering over you in the dark. Clarisse's dark eyes were recognizable, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through your body still.

"Shh." She whispered to your face, hand still keeping your mouth shut. "I'm going to remove my hands now." She whispered again. You nod in understanding and waited for her to pry her hand away from your face.

"What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed as quiet as possible as she helped you sit up.

"I'm sneaking you out." She answers with a wink. "It's 2 in the morning." You waved your hand around at the darkness and sleeping children. "3 in the morning, and yeah, I know. That's why it's called sneaking around." She corrects you with a grin so devilish that if you hadn't known her for a long time, you'd assume she's about to turn you into a new toilet bowl or dumpster boxing victim.

You sighed loudly and glared at her despite your fast beating heart. Her hand remained on top of yours until the minute becomes more awkward and she removes it as if she just remembered that she's been holding your hand.

Without explanation,  she climbed out of your bed and tiptoes to the open cabin door. You're still sitting up and looking at her with conflicted feelings.

Only after she turns back to you, cocking her head towards the entrance, do you give into her request and softly leave the comfort of your bed and trail after her.

"Where are we going?" You asked after her as she kept walking. Instead of responding, she asks you another question back, "Can you swim?"

"We're going swimming?" You watch her shrug in return from behind her and became even more distressed.

"So, is this your idea of having fun and hanging out then?" She laughs drily and slowed down so you could catch up. You walked fast enough until you're beside her and waited for her to talk. "You sound surprised, I would've thought that after 4 years of friendship, you'd know by now that I love doing things that includes active movements."

You did know that, it's a bit hard to not notice how much working out, training and running fuels her even more.

"And why are we doing it in the middle of the night?" The walk towards the lake by the back of the forest was short, considering that your cabin is the closest to the location.

You almost tripped and fell over a stick, but Clarisse was quick to scoop you back up by the back of your shirt. "Thanks." You mumbled to her. "And you haven't answered my question."

Clarisse pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground without caring of your presence. You, having more moral obligations than her, twisted your face to your left when she began to pull her trousers off. "Too many people in broad daylight." She tells you.

That is a valid reason, this lake is mostly known as a hook up spot, and true to it's cause, many dating campers have been caught together here during dawn or late evenings.

You braved yourself to turn towards her again slowly and realised that she had already hopped into the water. She had a sports bra on and a boxer.

And though you yourself had a tank top and shorts on, you contemplate the idea of suicide as a better choice than having to strip in front of her.

"Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna gawk at me from there?" You were grateful for the dark being able to hide your flushed face from her, but deep down, you knew that she probably saw it anyways because of the shining bright moonlight.

"I can't swim." You told her.

"That's fine, the water's not very deep." You ransacked your brain for reasons to decline her offer, but at the same time, a small part of you yearned to take this risk that you've been so afraid of for gods knows whatever reason.

Clarisse is there, in the water and under the moonlight. You are only a few steps away from her. And like she said, the water isn't deep, only waist length. She stares back at you with a raised brow like she's challenging you to join her.

"Turn around first." You tell her. She smirked slightly before slowly spinning to the opposite direction. "You know I've seen you naked before right?"

"What?" You choked out, aghast. "Who do you think changed your clothes for you when you first got to camp." Oh, that.

Your shoulder relaxes as you realize she's talking about the first time you met. "That's was a long time ago." You noted. She hummed im agreement. "Yeah, we've both grown since."

You told her she could turn around once you're inside the water. Forgetting about the heighy difference between you two, the water was high enough to reach your chest, trying your best not to trip underwater the way you always do on dry ground, your hand instinctively reached outnfor her shoulder.

Clarisse held your forearm tightly and drew your closer to her until you're inches away from eachother.

You breathed in sharply and felt the need to fill in the awkward silence. "So, you...like swimming, huh?"

"Yes, evidently so." She answered. "Right right, can't sit still and all that." She actually chuckled at your sarcasm, making you proud of yourself.

"You know, even before I came to camp Half Blood, I use to be a pretty active person, running track, volleyball, sometimes swimming." Your eyes widened in curiosity. "Really?" She nodded.

"The counselor told my mom that I just had so many untapped energy, which I guess is a code for anger issues." Her grip on your forearm moves higher until her palm is over your shoulder.  "She told her that it'd be best for me to find a...healthy way, to channel that energy, and for my strong competitiveness. So I joined what I could, and that's how I spent most of my free time there. Besides, I never was that good academically. So, I ought to at least be good at something, right?"

"You are good." You blurted out. Your embarrassment faded away when you saw her smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You assured her. Her other hand had snaked around your waist without you noticing. Only when you moved slightly do you notice her holding you softly.

"The moon is really nice tonight, isn't it?" You said, trying to diffuse the tension. You pointed your finger up to the sky at the singular white orb.

She glanced up and let out a 'huh.'

"I like it when it's bright and whole like this, the moon in all of its glory. You don't even notice the starts around it when it's glowing like that." You could stare at the moom forever, even longer than the way you've been staring at the sun.

You believed in it the way children do with their birthday candle. To you, the moon has always been a symbol of hope or comfort for your future. Your fascination for it existed from when you were a child, the way it'd follow you from behind as you gazed upon it from the back of the car seat whilst your parent drove down the road.

The way it moved above you as you walked home from school, like one of the gods themselves watching over you.

"Nothing compares to the moon." You announced aloud, watching as the clouds around it began to gather over it. "Yeah, It's beautiful." You hear Clarisse speak.

As your head snapped back to her, you found that she had already been facing you.

"I like the moon...but not as much as I like you." She whispered loud enough for your ears only. Her face leans closer to yours, your noses brushing together. "Not as much as I like to hear your voice, when you tell me about your little harpy facts-"

"Oh, I haven't told you about the harpies yet." You cut her off. "I just finished that chapter this morning actually and-"

"-and, you can tell me about it after I'm done talking." You blushed and became silent, letting her speak.

Clarisse exhaled breathily, fanning your face with the subtle warm air. "I like doing things that friends do with you, but I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Oh."

"I want to be more than friends." She elaborated.

"Oh." Oh.

You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, from anxiety or from butterflies is undecided. "You want to be best friends?" You joked, laughing nervously.

Clarisse snorted at your joke, but she was still grinning widely. "Best friends, If that's what you want to call it."

There was a moment of understanding shared between a second of shared gazes before her lips attached themselves to yours. An urgency, approval, meaning that can't be described by words.

Whatever gentleness there was inside of her before had vanished. Clarisse kissed you like a starved woman. Her lips craved yours like it'd be the last time she'll ever know how you taste like.

Your hands clasped on her shoulder and neck for support as she embraced you tighter to her body. You let her tongue slip into your mouth, meeting your own.

And as they danced together, inhaling all there is in your lips, every secret and every confession that have died on the tip ofnyour tongues, you are sure that no heaven nor hell could tear you open to see you back together like this.

You push her back abruptly, letting fresh air fill your empty lungs. "What's wrong?" Clarisse inquired worriedly.

"Last week." You sighed out, chest still heaving as your thoughts clicked together. "You thought I had asked you on a date, that's why you were disappointed."

She winced at the reminder, and for the first time in your life, you had been lucky enough to witness a flustered Clarisse.

"I'm right." Her silence confirmed. "Oh Clarisse, why didn't you just ask me?"

Huffing loudly, she rolls her eyes in irritation. "I thought I was obvious enough. "

Thinking back on it all, it did seem pretty obvious, but gods were you oblivious. The way you intepreted it all so wrongly.

"I've liked you for so long too." You admitted to her. Her scowl was gone at that, replaced by a teasing smile. "And what are you gonna do about it?" Her mouth returned to yours, letting go of all your fears and holding on to Clarisse like she's your anchor, you close the gap between your lips, welcoming the kind of pleasure that you've never tasted before.

[hermetiqa]

What study habits will help you this school year?

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK | MASTERLIST

PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

Pile 1

The study habits that will help you this year are the ones that will keep you engaged in your lessons and courses/subjects. Something that keeps your mind active and keeps you interested in learning. Be curious about what you're learning. Take studying as something positive and don't take it as a responsibility. Have the mindset that you're privileged enough to study and learn these stuff. Be in a state of wanting to learn, not needing to learn. Also, leave your "failures" behind, such as low grades or not being able to get a perfect score on your exam. Instead, focus on what you lacked that caused that result.

Study techniques:

Make flash cards

Use white boards (the bigger, the better)

Act like a teacher, pretend that you're teaching

Similar to the previous one, you can also pretend that you're reporting the lesson in class

Make mind maps with only your knowledge and check what you missed after

Pile 2

I'm getting a lot of energy here from you, Pile 2. First of all, STOP CRAMMING. You might have survived the last school year by cramming but it won't help you anymore, especially this time. You need to study in advance especially when you know you have exams coming up. Stop studying the night before the day of the exam. Also, leave the past behind. Let go of your "friends" who distract you from studying and just want to go out to parties. Change your routine. Your previous routine could be a success for you but it drains you. Find some balance between studying and leisure.

Study techniques:

Study with your friends together

Put notes on your walls so you can look at them anytime and you'll learn them naturally

If you exercise and you happen to have a treadmill, put notes on the wall in front of you so you can read as you exercise (walking or jogging)

Similarly, you can record yourself reading your notes and listen to your record while jogging outside or exercising

Read your notes outloud

Pile 3

So here's the studious pile. I'm seeing that you tend to study hard, not study smart. And that's your mistake. You should study smart, not study hard. Stop memorizing and start understanding your lessons more. Stop rewriting your notes over and over until you reach your desired perfection of your notes, the "aesthetic" that you want. Instead, do your best to write well when you're taking notes in class. That way, you won't have to rewrite them at home. When reading your notes, it's best for you to use different colors of highlighters. Also when someone offers you some help in a lesson that you struggle with, accept it, even if you only struggle a little. Lastly, enjoy learning! Don't stress yourself too much about it and overthink you'll fail.

Study techniques:

Don't stay up all night to study and wake up early in the morning to review, especially to recall what you've already studied

Never ever cram and always finish the easiest tasks first

Drink coffee when studying (only if you don't have health issues or you weren't advised that you should avoid coffee)

Keep on rereading your notes and rewrite what you remember, then keep track of what you tend to forget

Make tests for yourself or look for tests online

[just-a-sketchbook]

First Quilt!

It has been a lot of fun and a lot of trial and error but it's done!!!

It's roughly 1.20 x 1.20m (which is a number of feet I can't be bothered to look up but let's say it's about child sized and it'll be great to chill on the couch).

I want to thank @langdon813 who I've never talked to (sorry if you hate being tagged) but whose gorgeous Drunkard path quilts made me wanna do it too :)

I had never done any quilting before (but I did sew), so here's what I've learned, if any beginner is interested in jumping off the deep end the way I did and wants advice from someone who has freshly acquired experience but will also not use any confusing technical terms (with pictures!) :

Fabric picking : so most advice I read was to go for pre-selected bundles of fabric that already go together, but I'm contrary and like to do my own thing so I used wax fabric (the blue ones on top the pile) I had laying around, which I strongly recommend: it's very easy to cut due to it being waxed, and I added a few fat squares from the shop, plus I also had the orange and blue floral and I based the coulour scheme on it. One thing that's true is it would have been easier to work with fabric of the same thickness, and the floral was givne to me by my ma who got in on trip to Thailand and it was alot thinner than the rest which didn't help.

Cutting: I got a rotary cutter for the occasion and it's great! Do not maybe push too hard on it and give yourself nerve damage the way I did (temporary but still), it's actually ery sharp and easy to use, so long as your template doesn't slip you're fine

Piecing :Yes you can do curved piecing even if you have zero experience, you just gotta make a template and

pin it a lot.

1/4 inch margins is the standard so I rolled with it because I don't like converting, but when you're strictly metric it is kind of annoying but doable because my machine does have a 1/4 inch mark and if you stick a length of tape along it it's pretty easy to follow, even for curved piecing.

Layout: At some point you've got to decide the layout is done, because I've re-arranged the blocks at least 6 times and it's a very good way to go insane. (For rough reference, my plan was to have no repeat fabrics in any of the circle-in-a-square blocks, and I only made one mistake which I clocked too late to change)

Chain piecing!! Meaning you pile your blocks together in a specific order (that I personnaly wrote straight up on each piece with a very sophisticated letter/numbers down/across system) and then just sew them together in a line without having to cut the thread between each pair. Looks a little like a fanion banner and at some point it feels like you'll be forever tangled into it but then it's magic :) It's not that hard actually and will save you a lot of time + there's a lot of online tutorials you can use.

Basting! (which it took me while to understand is the part where you attach the backing, the fluff and the quilt top together) : you need more safety pins. Safety pins will save you from the wrinkles and the unfortunate oopsies of realising you've caught your backing double folded into your quilting stitch, which I did a good three times and was not fun to undo. Also, I forgot to tape the backing to the floor and it probably would have helped with the wrinkling...

Backing : I used an old linen table cloth I got for 10€ at a charity shop, and I've still got about 2/3 of it left, so I recommend that, it's sturdy but soft enough, doesn't thread easily and can be washed at very high temps, if that's a thing you do.

Quilting! Well, my machine came with a quilting foot for free motion quilting (which means you're the one moving the fabric along in whichever direction and you can sort of draw with your stitches) and it seemed fun so I did that, and here's what I learned : curves are hard but doable, also my machine doesn't like to go back (kept skipping sitiches for some reason) so it involves a lot of shifting the quilt around, which isn't easy considering the bulk. And also, drawing the quilting pattern you want so you can follow it while quilting actually does help, I used an iron/heat-erasable pen and it worked just fine. Check your stitch tension, mine was too loose and I realised too late so there's spots where I could pull on the thread and it looped, had to stitch back over that.

Quilitng pattern : I wasn't sure what to do, supposedly your batting (aka: the fluff) comes with instructions on how tight you should quilt to avoid it coming apart through use but I got mine cut at the fabric shop and forgot to ask so I just rolled with a rough 10cm maximum distance in between stitching lines but tried to do less in most places. According to many blogs : the tighter your lines the stiffer your quilt, so I kept it loose for comfort. (Picture is halfway done, I added a smaller square/circle inside each square/circle and if you look at it you'll see it's actually diagonal lines form one end of the fabric to the other.)

Binding is boring, and there's nothing to it. I got a length of pre-cut bias binding, machine-sewed it front to front to the quilt top side of the quilt and the folded it back and secured it by hand to the back with a ladder stitch. Took me roughly and entire rewatch of the Last Of Us. There's a trick to doing the corners that's fairly simple but I've lost the tutorial...

Overall : I got myself a quilting book with techinques and such and it helped, but there's a ton of stuff online, and once you get over the very Christian American mum vibe of most of the blogs, it's all very helpful (and gorgeous!) (no offense meant to Christian American mums, it's just a bit of a culture shock from where I'm standing).

[corviiids]

ficlet about how crow learns no healing skills but does know samerecarm (resurrect with full health)

warnings: blood, major character death but he gets better

--

Stupid, coming out here alone. No---that isn't the stupid part. Goro's been out here alone time and time again, he's been doing it for years. If anything, with Joker, he's got less to worry about than ever. That's the stupid part. They'd got cocky. Over the sound of their own laughter bouncing off the walls, both of them had missed the chains.

Joker's breathing is laboured. He's slumped into Crow's side. The next safe floor is three levels down, the previous is six up. Won't make it. Crow digs through Joker's pockets again. No Goho-Ms, no healing, just trinkets and dust. Joker's head lolls as Crow's hands rifle through his coat and trousers, body limp in Crow's arms. He's awake, though no better for it. The shelter they've found is tenuous. The Shadows are going to start respawning soon, and Crow's never going to get him out this way.

"Joker," he says. He snaps his fingers in front of Ren's face. Ren blinks. For half a moment, his eyes track Goro's hand. "Hey."

"Mm," Ren mumbles. Blood crawls sluggish and thick from a wound on the side of his head. He'll bleed out if this goes on much longer.

The way it is, that might be a mercy.

Crow can still fight, but not for two. Can still run but not with dead weight on his back. Goro snaps his fingers again. "Joker," he says more sharply. "Hey. I can't heal you. Do you understand? I haven't got any healing skills."

"Mm." Ren's eyes are starting to drift again.

"Hey." A slow death, bleeding out. Goro smacks the side of Ren's cheek, not hard, just enough to get his eyes to snap back again. Joker's mask lies discarded beside Goro's twisted knee, but there's nothing left in him to call Arsene. "I can't heal you. I've only got Samerecarm. Do you understand?"

It takes this Joker--the one who's slowly dying in Crow's arms--a little longer to understand than it would the one whose lifeblood isn't staining Crow's suit. Comprehension doesn't so much dawn as it does creep tentatively into Ren's dull eyes. He nods.

"Do you understand?" Goro asks again. Something in him suddenly needs desperately to be sure, to know Ren is sure. "If I do nothing, it'll be a moot point before long. I can't do it nice. Won't be quick. The gun's too loud and I can't waste Loki. But I'll do it quicker. That much I can promise." The pool of Ren's blood in his lap. "You get it, don't you, Joker?"

Another nod. The light is leaving Ren's eyes, but the hardness comes back. Red gloves tighten on Crow's sleeve, leaving dark smeared fingerprints.

The saber is too flashy. Crow's fingers slip into Joker's belt again, this time emerging with his dagger.

Goro pauses.

"Do you trust me?" he asks before he can think about it.

A third nod.

Crow grits his teeth.

Joker gasps as the blade plunges into his chest. His whole body seizes up. Blood pours from between his ribs, faster, more liquid than the steady ooze in his temple. Ren shakes in Goro's arms, soft noises choking out from his throat. It's not short, it's not painless. But he does slump, eventually. In less time than it would have taken his wounds unassisted. A thin line of blood creeps from the corner of his mouth; a little more bubbles and paints his lips.

Goro swallows. Letting Joker's body fall to the ground, he pulls off his mask and calls Robin Hood.