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sanccharine · 9 months ago

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14:30 | mm

pairing: assassin!momo x handler!reader

summary: good speakers are good liars, too bad momo is neither. co-written by @eternallyghosting chapter summary: momo spends the day with you

warning: sickeningly sweet, like makes me want to throw up actually

word count: 2.5k

a/n: assassin!momo is here because indigo works hard af. literally she wrote everything, again i didn't do jackshit for this part, didn't even open docs until yesterday lol. im just here to post and disappear like avatar aang, again :]

masterlist

You cursed as your oven timer dinged for the third time, barely managing to shove your hands into heat proof gloves before hurrying to take the baking tray out of the steaming oven. This had to be your sixteenth batch of heart shaped cookies, an apparent Valentine's day tradition. A cliche, more like, you rolled your eyes.

Although this influx of orders was no doubt good for your growing business, you were just about ready to gouge out your eyes if only to avoid looking at pink food colouring again.

You sighed, at least after this last order for Mr Moyo, you'd be done for the day. As you busied yourself with measuring the flour, something you could do in your sleep now based on the amount of times you'd made this exact recipe, the front door slammed shut.

Momo. Hearing the loud slamming noise would've given you a headache in any other situation, but not today. Today Momo had promised to give you a break from doing the dishes after seeing you knee deep in orders since the morning.

You hadn't even realized how tired you were until she came up behind you and laid her chin on your shoulder. You took a break from kneading and pulled her closer. Sensing your fatigue, Momo wrapped you up in her arms, gently turning you around and laying a soft kiss on your lips.

"Rough day?"

"Mmm," you didn't bother with a more coherent response. Momo got it anyway.

She gazed around at the heart cookies, with their light pink frosting and red and white sprinkles, and snorted, "I don't really get why people would want these."

A beat.

She rushed to add. "Of course not saying that because it's your baking! These look great babe, you've done a really good job on the decor." She cupped her warm hands around your cheeks, emphasizing that she didn't mean anything by what she'd said.

You shook your head, "It is a silly holiday."

"Exactly! That's what I meant," she kissed your cheek in apology.

You settled deeper into her hold. The dough could wait. "But still, it's kind of sweet that people celebrate Valentine's day," you murmured.

Momo could be quite dense sometimes. You had to often spell things out for her. But this, your unmentioned plea, she understood clearly. Maybe it was the exhaustion making you more sensitive than usual. Or maybe it was the sentimentality of the holiday that made you melt against her arm as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Tell you what, you finish up this last batch and I'll run you a bath. How does that sound?"

That did sound great. You gave her a grateful nod as you added, "there's extra frosting in the fridge if you want to try some."

Momo hurriedly disentangled herself and gave you another kiss before rushing to the said fridge. Perhaps it wasn't just you feeling the sentiments of the holiday.

With renewed vigour, you managed to toss the new batch of cookies in the oven, having to wait only for a couple minutes before filling up all your used dishes with soapy water. Although Momo had promised to do them for you, you couldn't just leave them be without rinsing atleast a few.

You trudged upstairs, where your nose was immediately met with the soothing scent of lavender, from the bath salts you had gifted Momo a few months ago. As you slipped into the bathroom, Momo turned to face you.

"So my next flight isn't for another few days."

You nodded silently, focusing on throwing your flour stained shirt into the laundry basket instead. Momo and you had discussed her flight over dinner last night so you didn't know why she was bringing it up again.

"I was thinking we could do something together."

Now that got your attention. You lifted your head and asked with a hint of a smirk, "I thought you said Valentine's day was a shitty occasion."

"I didn't say it like that! And also this doesn't have to be for Valentine's day," she added. "It could be just a date."

"Okay," you shrugged. You would do anything if it meant spending more time with Momo.

She perked up. "Great! I'll plan it out!"

Wait, what?

Before you could ask her anything, she smiled, said "Enjoy your bath!" and left, closing the door behind her.

As you enjoyed your much needed soak in the tub and made your way out of the bathroom, you found Momo hunched over on the bed with her glasses on and laptop in hand. You smiled to yourself. She hardly ever wore her glasses, so she must be taking this date planning very seriously.

As you crawled into bed, she turned her screen towards you and pointed excitedly. "Look!"

You took a look at a website showing various people with axes in their hands. Before you could ask about what Momo wanted to do with a Thor convention, you caught sight of the title at the top of the screen.

Axe throwing. Huh.

"Seems fun, doesn't it?"

You tore your glance away from the laptop to Momo's face, grinning widely and awaiting your answer. You were looking at her, but you weren't really seeing. The only thought in your mind was how cute those glasses looked on her. You really had to make her wear them more often.

"You're adorable," you blurted out as she nudged you for an answer.

Stifling a giggle, she rolled her eyes. "I'm taking that as a yes." And right away, she booked a slot for the two of you. You settled under the covers quietly, not really having any objections but also not expecting her to be so proactive about this date.

"There, all done. It's in the evening tomorrow." She put her laptop away on the bedside table and joined you under the warm duvet.

Not that the duvet stayed settled for long as her words jolted you up. "Wait, tomorrow? I can't tomorrow, I have to deliv—"

Momo took your hands, silencing you in the action. "I know, you have to deliver the cookies. But we could do those on the way to the facility."

You weren't convinced this easily. "What if someone isn't at home? What if we can't deliver some of the orders?"

She shook her head. "The time slot I booked is their last one. It's at 8 pm, which gives us plenty of time to make the deliveries, even if someone isn't home in the morning," she emphasized the end of her sentence to lay your worries at ease.

Kissing the hands still in her grip was the cherry on top, as you finally settled down again, content that Momo had it all planned out. She laughed quietly as she turned to face you, the faint yellow hue of the night lamp casting a glow on her face. "I wouldn't have booked the slot without making your deliveries happen, babe."

"I know, I just like having a plan." So what if your handler tendencies bled over into your regular life, having a plan was never a bad thing.

"You and your lists and schedules…"

"Hey, at least I'm not the one getting lost in a city because I can't read out the itinerary made for me!" It was a bit of a deep cut to bring up something that had occured on vacation years ago, but you couldn't resist teasing her.

And Momo retaliated by doing what Momo did best. When at a loss for a verbal attack, she mercilessly moved her hands up and down your sides, tickling you until your feet kicked and squirmed in the blanket.

She only stopped when you finally cried out for mercy, ceding victory to her if only to be able to breathe properly. Having eventually caught your breath, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to situate your torso over hers and wipe off the smug smile on her face with a deep kiss.

"Goodnight, babe. I love you."

"I love you too. G'night."

True to her word, Momo had done all the dishes last night while you had been in the bath, and walking into a gleaming kitchen almost made you want to get on your knees and sob in relief. You loved baking, but cleaning up after was often the hardest part, something you absolutely had to be particular about no matter how tired you were.

You turned on the coffee machine just as the sounds of Momo rustling around in the sheets reached your ears. You were content to just stay in and share a cup of coffee, enjoying the morning sunlight streaming through the windows onto your kitchen counter. You looked around your carefully curated kitchen, at all the designs you had insisted on, knowing that it would be one of the places you spent the most time in. Your eyes landed on the pile of trinkets in the corner, stubbornly making themselves known in the pristine marble decor of the kitchen.

Despite your hatred of the mismatched colour scheme, that corner held a special place in your heart, after all, it contained all the little things Momo had brought back from her trips around the world. The woman was talented in many areas, but interior design was decidedly not one of them. She would buy whatever she thought looked cute, irrespective of whether it was something that would fit in your kitchen or was needed by you in the first place.

Still, you couldn't bear to hide it away. As your gaze landed on the porcelain soap dish Momo had brought back a few weeks ago, you had to stifle a laugh at the memory of that particular day. All things considered, it wasn't even as horrendous as some of the other things she'd purchased, but her reasoning for buying it was what had you stumped. You remembered her ravenously eating forkfuls of the pie you had made to celebrate her arrival (and the difficult mission you knew she'd undertaken), before she had sprung up from her seat to haphazardly search through her bags.

Having found what she was looking for, she had tossed the dish towards you, and beamed as though expecting praise for her 'thoughtful' purchase. You couldn't lie, the gift had you bewildered for a good couple of minutes as you wracked your brain trying to recall why this dish would be of particular significance to you. Momo had impatiently gestured at you to turn the dish over and "look at the back!", where you found a 'Made in Greece' stamp over the dish. Although that gift had greatly confused you to the extent of looking like the human equivalent of a keyboard smash, it brought a smile to your face knowing that Momo carried your love of Greek myths with her wherever she went.

The subject of your thoughts bounded down the stairs just as you wrapped up that precious memory. Her hair was mussed up from having rolled around in bed, and her bleary eyes indicated that she wasn't fully awake yet. But to you, she had never looked better. You loved Momo like this, all soft and pliant in the morning, making you feel like you were in a never ending Sunday.

You must have taken a second too long to acknowledge her, as she whined at not immediately receiving her good morning kiss. You moved towards her and obliged, before getting a hold of her wrist and gently dragging her off to where your twin coffee mugs stood, ready for a lazy start to your day.

The rest of your day went by similarly in a haze, with you dividing your time between wrapping up your final orders, and making the most of Momo being home. Once the admittedly long and lazy breakfast was over, you enlisted Momo's help in reorganizing your closet, getting rid of items you didn't use anymore. Then, after hastily vacuuming your bedroom, the two of you made a quick lunch of enchiladas (well, you cooked and Momo tried not to get in your way), before settling down on the couch and scrolling through Netflix for a new show to watch.

You sighed contentedly in her hold as Momo, eventually tired of trying to find something new, clicked on the long memorised sitcom favoured by you. As your eyes glazed over the familiar scenes, you lauded your past self for closing off orders even though Valentine's Day was still two days away; you got to make the most of your time while Momo was still home.

By the time the afternoon hues of the sun had started to darken to twilight, you had already finished a season of the show you had put on, as well as two cups of tea and a bowl of popcorn. Deciding to clear up a bit, you turned off the television with a groan of protest from Momo, before eventually tugging her off the couch and upstairs to get ready for your deliveries.

Momo had been right in booking the 8 PM slot for your date, and as you watched her carefully load all the orders into the backseat of your car, a serene feeling washed deep in your bones. All it took really was a four letter word.

Home.

Time.

Love.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Momo asked as you slid into the passenger seat.

You had an absent smile on your face as your fingers drummed against your thighs. "Mm, just thinking of how all it takes is a four letter word."

Momo leaned over, grabbing and fastening your seatbelt for you in a swift motion. "You're thinking of 'sexy', right?" she smirked.

You felt your cheeks being pulled upwards as the absent smile blossomed into a full one. "I was thinking more of 'dork' but okay."

"Nerd."

"Fool."

"Rude."

"Mean."

The two of you traded back and forth before Momo suddenly said, "Y/N".

"Hmm? That's not how—"

"I love you," she giggled. This time it was you who leaned in, pushing forward as much as your seatbelt would allow, and sealed her giggles with a kiss. "Wife," you murmured against her as she pulled you in closer upon hearing that fall from your lips, a revered whisper.

Despite everything in you screaming not to, you eventually pulled yourself away and let Momo start the car. You settled in your seat, putting a hand over your heart to calm it's racing, but to also feel how strongly it beat. For Momo. While the pair of you weren't really convinced by the traditions of Valentine's Day, and scorned at how the town had blown a quarter of its budget on tacky pink and red decorations, you couldn't deny just how full your heart had felt today. How it felt everyday you were by her side.

You had your own traditions with her, of course you did, honed after years of being together, but it all boiled down to one thing, a simple four letter word: Momo.

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: happy valentines day y'all, tell people that you love them !!! or don't, or tell them that you hate them lol, idk don't let me tell you how to spend your day :P

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @happilychaengs

#a game of hide and seek #mala's collection #sanccharine #indigo's archive #eternallyghosting :]#momo x reader #twice x reader #momo fluff #jype twice #twice imagines #momo imagines

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cheetahspy · 1 year ago

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Ledger!Joker x Diabetic Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Medical stuff, needles/injections (it’s not very descriptive though), slight NSFW mention (labeled at the bottom)

A/N: Heya! I’ve never posted something like this before haha…Kinda new to it and very nervous so don’t judge me too harshly. I actually write quite often but rarely post it, however I really wanna start trying to put my work out there more. Keyword try.

Anyway, fun fact about me, I have T1 diabetes. I haven't seen anything about that with J so I decided to make my own headcanons and such :) Sooooo here’s that lol…enjoy??

You had been diagnosed with T1 diabetes three years ago. You hated it. The needles, the upkeep, the blood, the appointments. It’s scary, a living nightmare for you.

You were still in your…adjusting phase, and didn’t like talking about your diabetes to anyone. Joker was no exception

So, naturally, J took matters into his own hands and did his own research, learning as much as he could about diabetes (without you knowing, of course). How it works, the high and low blood sugar levels, how to manage it, he even figured out how the insulin pump that you have operates.

You were shocked the day he offered to change the infusion set for you and knowing how to do so. He ignored you when you asked him how he knew.

You were hesitant but quick to give in and let him inject the cannula into your stomach. He hugged you from behind as he did so; you melted into his touch and your fears were comforted. From that day on you opened up more and more about your medical life to J and allowed his help.

He enjoys being the one to inject the cannula and dexcom, however he still forces you to do it yourself at times, as to make sure you aren’t getting too used to being dependent on someone else. You’re a strong and brave bunny, he wants to remind you of that.

He will tease you about your dexcom and infusion sets, saying you must be part machine.

“I’m uh, still convinced you’re a cyborg.” “J!!”

He also forces you to stay on a healthy diet and keeps track of your sugar intake carefully. He’s definitely not a hypocrite. He rarely lets you eat junk food, even though you’re allowed to and tried explaining that to him

“The doctors told me it’s okay if I eat sugar now and then, as long as I have the insulin for it. It’s the sugary drinks I need to avoid more.”

J doesn’t buy it, nor does he trust your doctor's input. “Mmm. Nuh uh. Can’T have my little bunny go falling into a coma, hm?” You know he’s just concerned about you (even if he’d never outright admit it), so overtime you stopped arguing with him and avoided junk food to ease his mind. Just don’t let him catch you eating it behind his back.

J absentmindedly fidgets with your insulin tube. Rubbing along it, flicking it around, twirling it around his finger, even constantly feeling the cannula end of it against your stomach as if to reassure himself you that it’s still on and doing its job. Don’t worry, he’s only accidentally ripped it out once or twice, and he certainly makes it up to you when that happens.

Having a low, but forgot sugar to combat it? Not to worry! Joker keeps a juice box or two in his suit juuuust for you. He’s even stacked packages of juices in your pantry so you’ll have plenty. (Don’t ask whether he bought or stole them, you already know the answer)

The low blood sugar episodes hit you hard, but you’ve found curling up on J’s lap and cuddling against his chest while sipping on juice is very comforting. He’ll stroke your hair and rub your back, holding you closer whenever you shake and cry.

“Shhhh sh sh sh. It’s nothin’ you haven’t beaten before. It’ll pass, angel.”

You hate looking at your stomach and seeing the previous holes and scars from constant injections. J will run his thumb over them and kiss each of them to comfort you.

Whenever you have a headache or any symptoms, J will immediately interrogate you about your blood sugar level

“Not every pain I get is caused by my diabetes.”

“Shuuuuush. What’re levels right now? Let me uh, lemme see your pum-p. Give. Right. Now.”

If you’re low on insulin and the pharmacist is late to sending you new vials, J will meet with them personally to have a little chat.

He’ll then come home and plop the bag of new vials theatrically down on the counter. “Tadaaaa! More insulin for my sweet little sugar cube.”

“Oh, thank you J! Wow, they gave me a lot this time…”

NSFW:

During the ✨devils tango✨, J will occasionally rip the cannula out by accident. He’ll immediately put a pin in your lovemaking session to get you a new one. Even if you insist you could go an hour or two without it, he’s not taking any chances. After all, where’s the fun in sex if your partner is dying from a seizure??

“J, I promise it’s okay! We don’t have to sto-”

“Now now gumdrop. I know you’re, heh, eager for me, but my patient needs her medicine first.”

You’re grateful you don’t have to deal with your disability alone anymore. Who knew the Clown Prince of Crime could be such a good caretaker?

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drarrily-we-row-along · 2 years ago

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Come Over

cw: mentions blood and injury- everyone is fine.

Nothing was going according to plan.

Harry had invited Draco to come over and celebrate Valentine's Day a couple of days early; he would have the kids on the actual day and as much as Draco loved his kids, it just seemed like a night better spent alone when your relationship (especially the physical part of it) was relatively new.

What Harry hadn't been planning on was Teddy catching the cold of the century, and Alex's pet iguana buggering off to who knows where, and for Ben's entire art supply collection to get dumped across the floor. He hadn't been planning on it being so hard to get the kids handed off to Ginny and out the door, so close to the time that Draco was meant to be arriving. He hadn't planned on tripping over the toys that were still strewn about and cracking his head on the corner of the table.

And he hadn't planned on blacking out, only to be revived by a very concerned looking Draco.

He tried to sit up and immediately groaned, the world spinning around him, grasping his head and feeling the sticky, wet spot where blood had started to congeal, pooling down into his hair. "Urrgh," he managed, pulling his hand away, grateful that Draco had obviously healed whatever wound was there.

"Hold on," Draco said quickly, trying to get Harry to lie back.

"No. I'm fine-" he said swatting Draco's hand away and pushing himself to his feet.

Fortunately, Draco reached out to steady him because just as quickly as he'd stood he found himself collapsing forward again, body swaying dangerously. "For fuck's sake," Draco grunted, heaving Harry's body onto the couch. "Lie down for a moment. You've lost a lot of blood."

Harry watched, sulking but obedient, as Draco dug through his bag.

"Here," he said holding out a vial, "blood replenishing potion," he added.

He swallowed it down, gagging a bit at the horrid texture.

"Pain potion for the massive headache that I'm sure you've got."

With a groan he swallowed that one too and the pain in his head lessened to a more reasonable level. "Sorry," he croaked, rubbing his eyes. "This wasn't-"

"Shut up," Draco snapped and Harry looked up at him uncertainly, he didn't often use that tone with him anymore. "Sorry," he said, pressing a shaking hand to his mouth. "Sorry, Harry, you-" he broke off, shaking his head, "I thought that-"

"Hey," Harry said, reaching for him, tugging him down toward the couch. "Hey," he whispered, pulling him into his arms as he saw the tears bright in his eyes. "Tell me," he requested.

"You were laying on the floor in a pool of blood," he rasped. "You weren't moving, I thought-"

"Oh," he said, holding Draco tighter, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Draco nodded against his neck.

"Sorry," he breathed again. "I'm alright."

Draco nodded again and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, holding him for a long moment. When he pulled back he said, "Come on," helping Harry up off the couch. "Let me run you a bath and I'll wash the blood out of your hair."

Harry groaned, even as he allowed Draco to tug him along to the bathroom, "That's disgusting, I don't want you to have to clean me up-"

"It's literally my job," Draco said, "I clean people up from things worse than this all the time. I don't think it's disgusting at all."

"With a cleaning spell, not a sponge bath," Harry argued, feeling quite silly as he thought about the situation as a whole. Draco must think that he was a complete idiot. And how can you find someone attractive if you think they're stupid and incompetent. Maybe the floor would just swallow him.

Draco started the bath with a tidy flick of the wand before his hands were carefully undressing Harry, like he was a child unable to do it himself.

"Honestly, Draco," he huffed, pushing his hands away, "I'm fine! I can-"

"Let me?" Draco asked, voice coming out soft and hesitant. "I know you can do it," he added. "But just," he let out a shuddering sigh, "let me help. Let me take care of you?"

Harry blinked, people didn't take care of him. Hadn't ever really taken care of him, outside of the hospital induced injuries. He frowned uncertain, "You don't have to do that-"

"I want to," Draco said, palm cupping Harry's cheek as his eyes searched Harry's. "I want so badly to be allowed to take care of you, to love you, to treat you with all of the tenderness in the world."

"Why?" Harry asked, not sure why he was trying so hard to push the other man away when he was just trying to do something kind.

But Draco's eyes just softened around the edges, "You deserve to be taken care of."

Throat a little too tight, all Harry could do was nod.

The smile that lit up Draco's face was breath-taking and he slowly, reverently undressed Harry, like he was something precious, something fragile. When he'd finished undressing him, he helped him into the tub, resting his head against the back, folding a towel under his neck.

Harry sighed and let his body relax into the warm water, watching Draco from the corner of his eye as he rolled up his sleeves and gathered the supplies to wash his hair.

Quietly, Draco took care of him; washing and conditioning his hair, keeping the water the perfect temperature, adding in lavender bath salts while he massaged Harry's scalp, soothing away the last of his headache.

"Thanks," he murmured, tipping his head back to look at Draco.

"Of course," Draco replied, combing Harry's still-damp curls back so he could press a kiss to his forehead. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's go eat the food I brought in your bed."

Harry allowed himself to be pulled from the tub, Draco dried him with a soft, fuzzy towel that he'd cast a heating charm on before bundling him into the room. Draco fed him grapes, and cheese, and characters, and meats, placing the foods on Harry's tongue for him. And then finished off by feeding him sweet chocolates that melted in his mouth.

When they'd finished eating, Draco packed everything away before slipping the two of them under the covers and holding Harry close.

Humming, he let his eyes drift closed, "I feel a little guilty."

"Why?" Draco asked curiously, pressing a kiss to his temple.

He shrugged, "tonight was supposed to be about us," he said. "We were supposed to get to have some quality time-"

"We are," Draco said, like he was confused by Harry's words.

"No," he huffed, "I mean we were supposed to get to have dinner with candles, drink a nice bottle of wine, have steamy sex-"

Draco huffed a laugh, "You're on blood replenishers and you have a head injury. This is just what the healer ordered-"

"I know," he said, curving his body into Draco's, letting the other man's arm draw him closer. "You're not dating me so that you can have one more patient-"

"Harry," he interrupted, "You're not another patient. I love you," he said softly. "Taking care of each other is what you do when you love someone. You take care of me, too," he added.

"That's different."

"Different how?" Draco asked with a laugh.

He shook his head, pressing his forehead against Draco's collarbone. "I don't know. I just like to do it for you but I don't like you doing it for me."

"Why?"

"What are you, my therapist?" he grumbled.

"No," he said, "Just your boyfriend, trying to understand why you're allowed to love and care for me, but I'm not allowed to do the same."

He swallowed, thought for a moment, tried to get the words in order. "I just," he sighed, "I don't want to be too much," he whispered. "I want to make it easy for you to stay, not harder."

"And you think letting me take care of you when you're hurt makes it harder to love you?"

He shrugged, "yeah."

"Being allowed to love you, being allowed to take care of you," he said, "It's a privilege. I know this is hard for you, letting people in, feeling like you're burdening them with your existence-"

Harry's eyes stung at the casual way Draco put those feelings into words.

"-and I'm grateful that you let me love you. The real you," he added softly. "He's my favorite."

Harry huffed a derisive laugh, "the sniveling mess, who tripped over a toy and bashed his own head in, is your favorite?"

"No," Draco said, "the sniveling mess who let me take care of him when it was hard is my favorite. The sniveling mess who tells me about what he's struggling with while clinging to me like a limpet is my favorite. You, being honest with me, letting me see the hurt," he kissed Harry's forehead, "You're my favorite."

"Thanks," he whispered, not entirely ready to believe Draco but not ready to push any further either.

"Thank you," he murmured back, kissing Harry's forehead.

And it wasn't always easy, healing from the wounds of childhood, but both Harry and Draco found that the patience, love, and dedication of the other was enough in time.

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written for the @hdcandyheartsfest prompt: 'Come Over'

read more of my hdcandyheartsfest23 fics here.

#did i give all of the children different names because i hate the idea of harry and ginny naming their kids what they did? maybe.#(yes. the answer is yes i did.)#fluff #also should probably be part of the 'author is attempting to heal from trauma' series *finger guns*#drarry #love #soft #hdcandyheartsfest #established relationships #care giving #healing #tenderness #healer draco #divorced harry #dad harry

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shimmerbeasts · 4 months ago

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Misc. Headcanons for the Test Muses

These are some ideas/concepts I have developed for the test muses, which would stick around for my portrayals if I keep them. Enjoy the read.

Wyll

Wyll's change into a devil gave him an almost chimeric appearance. Aside from the horns on his head and the strange rills on his neck, he also gains the feet of a hellhound, a long, black tail with a blue tip, the claws of an Imp and strange bumps and spikes near his elbows. His transformation also results in a strange gait and the fact that Wyll has to pretty much relearn a lot about fighting because his body has become very alien.

Wyll has vitiligo. A good quarter of his body, mostly near his shoulder blades, his sides, parts of his chest and arms are fairer in colour as his cells produce no pigments there. After his transformation into a devil, these fairer patches gain a molten, golden colour. This was done by Mizora as a way to mock his heroism and remind him that as a farce, it is better than something real.

Wyll tied a knife to the end of his tail. After a lot of trial and error, he learned how to incorporate this in a fight. Ergo this man will stab you even when he is mid-fencing.

Wyll can and has regularly removed the sending stone from his face. He tends to do this when he and Mizora do not see eye to eye about a certain topic. If Wyll is particularly enraged, he even throws the eye away. At the same time, he is aware that these actions always come along with some pretty severe consequences.

Mizora enchanted Wyll's sending stone so that even when he throws it away, it will eventually always respawn in his empty eye socket. During the time when Wyll does not wear his sending stone, he covers up his eye socket with a thin scarf, effectively making himself look a bit like a raggedy pirate.

Outside of the tadpole gang, the only regular contact with someone else, which Wyll had and whom Mizora approved of, was a Cambion druid, disguised as a tiefling. Mercedes' job was basically to help out whenever Wyll faced a danger, he could not reasonably handle alone. She also was the one, who gave Wyll rewards and gifts on Mizora's behalf if her mistress was busy. Mercedes is a trickster-esque character, however, unlike Wyll, she is very playful, groovy and often jester-like. While she claims to be Wyll's friend, she often behaves around him in a way, which shows that even she has more power than him. Wyll finds her incredibly grating to be around, and only really puts up with her because he knows she is in a twisted way, a gift from Mizora.

Lae'zel

While Lae'zel originally studied dragons due to her wish to become a kith'rak, that desire to study soon began to exceed what is considered normal studying. Nowadays, Lae'zel has a vast knowledge of different dragon breeds, from their personalities to preferred habitats, to fighting styles. She is deeply fascinated and in awe of these creatures. Funny enough, if you manage to get her to talk about dragons in any way, shape or form, she will suddenly just infodump all over you. Call her out on that behaviour, and she will flat-out deny it.

Because of Lae'zel's unnaturally strong psionic abilities (even stronger than is normal for a Githyanki), her senses are also heightened. The worst of those offenders is her hearing. Lae'zel has incredibly sensitive ears and can easily get headaches, which have made her life and training as a warrior exceptionally hard as fights are often incredibly noisy.

Because of this, Lae'zel does not just meditate at the end of the day to connect herself with her faith in Vlaakith but also to decompress and relax after eventful days. However just because fights can exhaust her, does not mean she does not thrive in it. Lae'zel has learned to use the overwhelming amount of adrenaline, she experiences during a fight, to push through any discomfort, she may feel. Not that she lets anyone know of that discomfort. After all, it may be perceived as a weakness, and weaknesses mean a death sentence in Githyanki culture.

Lae'zel can move her ears independently from one another. Because of how highly specialised her hearing is, she can actually create a mental sound map of the camp while meditating. One should not try to touch her ears though, when they twitch, as that can easily cost you a hand.

#welcome to the lanes: test muse

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voluptuouswhale · 2 years ago

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I couldn't say when my passion for the stars was born. My parents say that I was always a curious boy, that I would spend hours and hours contemplating something until I understood it. Or, at least, until I thought I did. I like to think that my first fixation was with my cat, Minu. Minu was a Persian who was not particularly sociable, one of those mood swings that purr one second and scratch you the next. But I loved her anyway, and I think she eventually understood that too. Occasionally, when I was running in the garden, she would pop out of some hedge and we would compete to see who could reach an undistinguished finish line first. Needless to say, the few times I won were easily attributable to some kind of concession on Minu's part. I wondered then how such a small furball could run so fast, and I was fascinated. After Minu came a little fish, Fin. Yes, in those days imagination was not my forte. But he, too, knew how to give me quite a few headaches: how could he move so nimbly through the water, when I barely knew how to swim? In short, you may have guessed my unique relationship with animals. My mother would often turn on the Discovery Channel TV, and I would waste entire days staring at penguins diving into the ocean, leopards stalking prey, and albatrosses soaring through the sky. In time I learned that we humans, to make up for our shortcomings, had found ways to swim faster than penguins, chase leopards and fly higher than albatrosses. It was the same day that, to pique my curiosity, my mother uttered those words. "Just think, after exploring all the lands, oceans and skies, man decided to reach space. And he succeeded!" "So he sat on the stars?", I asked with the naiveté proper to any child. "No, not yet. Maybe you will be the one to sit on a star first! Take your sunscreen with you, it must be very hot up there." And, when Christmas came, she most likely regretted that talk. But I had my telescope, and there wasn't a happier child on all the Earth.

In truth, the incipit was a lie. As you may have already guessed, I know very well when this passion of mine was born. I know how it has evolved over the years to bring me to today. I have been dreaming of discovering a star for years. Even small, even lost, even dim. Something to shine in the darkest moments of my life, to burn even after my death. Yes: I would discover a star. After getting my degree in astronomy, I had immediately applied to work at an astronomical observatory a few hundred kilometers away from my home, the most important one on the entire continent. My application had been trashed because of my age. How could they expect me to spend at least three years in some provincial observatory while out there complete strangers were stealing my stars?

"Why did you quit your job? The pay was very good." "Yes, but I couldn't see the stars." "Of course you are strange. I think … maybe that's also why I love you" ""I love you?" That's stuff you say to a friend." "Of course! What did you think you were, my boyfriend?" Her eyes had always reminded me of heaven, but it was her character that had made me fall for her. I stretched my lips, and met hers. "Do you always kiss your friends?" "Only the ones I feel sorry for," she replied, laughing. "Anyway, I managed to save up enough money to buy a telescope. Then, when they accept me at the observatory, we can move in and live together." "Isn't it a little early to be making such plans?" "Not if I'm together with you." In short, I could say I was happy.

There it is. There it is at the bottom. The astronomical coordinates--they don't correspond to any known celestial body. A chill ran through my body, passing from my legs to my face. A few drops of sweat were beading on my face. I had no time to wipe it away. I had discovered a star, and in less than six hours I could claim its name. Less than six hours. I took a sleeping pill to combat the feverish anxiety running through my body, and soon fell asleep. I opened my eyes. The clock on the desk read 03:15. Whatever, I might as well check that the coordinates had not appeared in some forum or magazine. Four more hours and it would no longer be a problem. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. No star thieves, at least for now. My eye fell on the computer clock, 07:02. When had this happened? How had all that time passed? The thought was quickly interrupted by a rather peculiar fact. The photograph in the news article on Proxima Centauri had come to life, and its light had rendered me completely blind within a few thousandths of a second. I was enveloped by a heat so strong that I felt my limbs melt like wax in the sun. I opened my eyes, which had miraculously regained my sight. Beside me, everywhere I turned, there were only stars. Dazzling. Burning. "Why have you come all this way?" one of them asked. "Because … I love you. You are beautiful. Even if I were to die right now, just the thought of having seen you in person is enough to make me smile until my last moment." "Do you love me? Then why did you abandon me?" "I… I don't think I understand." Our talk was interrupted by a nearby pair of stars. "What about us? What have we done?" "Nothing! You have done nothing! Why are you mad at me?" "We are not mad at you," made a spokesman star in the midst of a host of heavenly bodies, "we love you. That's why we are here." "No-you are not real stars. Real stars would never treat me like this. Go away!" "We already left long ago. Don't you remember? You kicked me out after I confronted you about the mania that was ruining your life. And our relationship." By now I didn't understand anything. "It was different with us," the star couple intervened, "you slammed the door screaming. And you never came back." "We, on the other hand, never heard from you again. You didn't answer messages, calls, the intercom." "No one knew where you had gone. The observatory had never seen you. We thought you had disappeared-or worse." Only then did the light and heat dim. And I already knew who I would see. Next to me were my girlfriend, my parents, and my group of friends. Their gazes were not mean, so much as more…sad. And it was much worse that way. I was suddenly catapulted into the middle of nowhere. There was no one near me anymore. Everyone had disappeared. Everyone?

No, not her. My star. She was there, staring at me, with no pretense of lecturing me. She shone, she burned, she warmed. She was warming. She was burning. And the more I stared at it, the less I could look away. The temperature was rising. I felt every single ray of light pass through my skin and penetrate to my internal organs, burning every inch of my body. And she shone, cold, unconcerned about what she was doing.

"Francis! Next time you make do with breakfast, that everything here has gotten cold. Since when did you start ignoring alarm clocks?" I ran to hug her with tears in my eyes. I had been looking for stars in the wrong place.

#writing #shortstory #fiction #astronomy #relationships #passion #stars #love #discovery #dreams

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agencyxs747 · 2 years ago

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kravkalackin · 2 years ago

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She was supposed to be working right now.

And yes, technically this was work, but it wasn't supposed to be her job to deal with every little disaster that happened in one of her labs. She had more important things to do than listening to reports, let alone in person reports.

Unfortunately, from what she heard this disaster had not been so little, and so she had to go see what was salvageable. No one else was competent enough to get a few watch dogs back in a cage apparently.

More importantly though, Not What It Seems had said the "incident" at the lab had been interesting. They had said it with that tone of voice that immediately wanted to give Amani a headache.

Interesting for Not What It Seems was often just plain irritating.

Still, the thing that other Kii'tre never seemed to understand was how useful irritating creatures could be. How much more efficient it was to put just a little bit of effort in getting others to do the leg work for you instead of doing it all yourself.

Well, if they couldn't learn even the most simple applications of interpersonal relations, that was a failure on their skills, not hers.

To say the lab was a mess when she got there was an understatement. Several walls had holes disintegrated into them from the escaped watch dogs, not to mention signs of fires, fights, and quite a few bodies strewn about.

Leaving some guards to deal with the remaining escaped experiments, Amani headed straight towards one of the only rooms that seemed to have come out relatively unscathed. Letting the door lock behind her, the Voice,Not What It Seems appeared to be lounging back in a desk chair, looking a hair away from tipping over completely.

"Oh, you came quicker than expected," Seems said, amusement already lacing their voice as they leaned forward, sending the chair clattering back onto all fours.

"I'd like to get this settled as fast as possible so that I can get back to what's actually important," she said dryly, making sure to keep a close eye on the Voice. So far their working relationships had been quite amiable, but she wouldn't ever be dumb enough to trust a Voice. Or anyone but her own judgment at the end of the day.

"Fine, I won't bore you with all the extraneous details. I just thought you would want to know about the band of assholes that razed your lab to the ground," Seems said with a shrug, that last part clearly trying to get under her skin. It didn't.

"Not unless there is a good reason to know, otherwise it's just another waste of my time. Send someone to kill them and be done with it," she insisted, but she wouldn't be surprised if there was a good reason. This lab had been well hidden, and whoever had managed to infiltrate and do this amount of damage at least seemed to have some idea of what they were doing.

"Yeah, I would have, but you basically said that no one is allowed to kill this group of assholes but you, so I figured I'd check in first," they said, their grin somehow managing to get even wider. Amani could feel a hint of a frown starting to tug at her mouth, eyes narrowing.

"Fine, stop wasting my time and give me your report," she insisted, letting the irritation she felt slip into her tone. Because she was annoyed, even if she already knew exactly what Not What It Seems was hinting at, and was hoping for possibly the first time in her life to be wrong.

"Oh you know the ones. The broken Kii'tre, the quiet blanket, angry cat, creepy Voice. Oh, they have a slime mold now," Seems listed off, as if they weren't aware of their names.

"I made no orders limiting who can kill that group," she said plainly, because if that was the only reason there was not a current chase out on that thorn in her side, she would correct that immediately.

"Eeeeh, you kinda implied it," Seems insisted, leaning back in their chair again. Amani was still standing right by the door, as she had meant for this to be quick.

Of course it wouldn't be quick.

"No, I did not," she repeated, firmer this time.

"Agree to disagree," Seems said with a shrug.

"No, that's not how-" she started to insist, before cutting herself off and letting out a sigh. She had such a migraine.

Voices gave her such a migraine.

"Have a ship sent to track them," she said instead, finally walking fully into the room.

"Already did," Not What It Seems said with a casual wave of their hand, "did it as you, by the by, so those orders should have gone through no questions asked," they added. Amani felt a frown twitch on her face again. She really wished they didn't do that. Still, the skill was useful.

"Good, I'm going to set a course for Festhill after this," Amani said, grabbing the seat on the other side of the table and pulling it out to sit down. "But first, a full report. Tell me what they did here."

"Well, I'm pretty sure they were legally hired by us, to start with," Not What It Seems said, and Amani had to resist letting her head fall into her hands. One sentence in, and it was already this.

She had not implied it before, no matter the tongue's words, but now, she might just make an order for her to be the only one allowed to kill that infuriating group.

It wouldn't be any fun if someone else got to them first.

#ramblings #original writing #stallus corpus #it is hilarious #that this contains the first mention #of the actual protagonists of this story #amani and seems are the queer overworked villain duo #they just have their own plotline #kilna amani #not what it seems #Voice is a species btw #so is Kii'tre #names possibly subject to change

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tnystrk-exe · 4 years ago

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Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish.

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything.

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge.

“Yes, darling?”

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.”

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected.

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself.

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?”

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day.

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.”

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them. “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment.

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive.

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands.

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him.

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.” He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.”

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting.

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too.

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his.

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured.

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin.

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly.

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste.

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him.

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed.

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?”

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind.

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place.

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers.

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully.

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage.

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.”

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him.

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty.

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.”

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw.

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips.

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach. Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation.

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you.

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep.

NextChapter

#hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x reader #reader insert #smut #hannibal #Hannibal nbc #Hannibal x reader

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rpbetter · 4 years ago

Text

PTSD or C-PTSD?

Hopefully, you’re not one of the muns out there who has slapped a “PTSD” label on your muse(s) for drama only. You are, instead, treating this topic with respect and the realism that comes with that, not only having it accurately impact your muse when it’s convenient and “fun” for you. Well, that respect and realism includes actually knowing and applying the correct diagnosis and symptoms as well.

In your defense, if you have misdiagnosed your muse, common terminology in media and even among trauma sufferers is often just the blanket-statement of PTSD. Also, as the abbreviations imply, they do have things in common.

To help, I’m going to break down their differences and similarities, then provide some research links including personal accounts to help you get started.

PTSD

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder most often comes from a single traumatic event.

What can be a traumatic event can differ widely, and reasonably so; we’re not all the same person, processing events and emotions the same way, or with the same formative life experiences. What might cause PTSD to develop in one person might be processed by another as a frightening or painful incident, but not one that has left them with PTSD. The symptoms, individual, and incident have to all be taken into account.

That being said, some examples would include:

having a severe accident

being mugged or in a store that is robbed

physical or sexual assault

being involved in a shooting, in any way

death of a loved one

an unexpected explosion or sudden, natural event like a mudslide or tornado

a severe natural or man-made disaster (building collapse, mass flooding)

events outside of oneself like witnessing a violent assault, murder, deadly car accidents, terminal illness or injury

Again, it is important to remember that individuals react in individual ways, and as such, their symptoms can express with some variation. Don’t just mimic the same presentations you’ve seen in media, research a variety of real experiences.

However they manifest, key symptoms of PTSD include:

Re experiencing the event by way of nightmares, flashbacks, and repetitive, intrusive, and intensely upsetting images, thoughts, and sensations. This is the most common symptom of PTSD, in which the person involuntarily and vividly relives the trauma.

Avoidance and emotional numbing, going to extremes to avoid not just potential triggers, but also finding any way possible to push memories of the event out of their minds. When the latter occurs and is extreme, the person is trying to feel nothing at all, seeking a path to emotional numbness. That can include substance use and abuse, self-harming, and other harmful behaviors.

Feeling on edge (”Hyperarousal”) is the ultimate inability to relax, constantly looking for threats, perceiving threats that are not to be found, and being easily startled. Some of the common issues with being locked into this state include difficulty sleeping or even insomnia, severe irritability and irrational seeming aggression, angry or aggressive outbursts, and finding concentration difficult to impossible.

Some other things that might develop with PTSD are:

Other mental health concerns like anxiety, depression, and/or phobias

as said above, harmful behaviors like self-harming and substance abuse

physical symptoms like headaches, stomach and digestive upsets, dizziness, and generalized pain

Like all disorders, PTSD is complex. I, again, implore you to research not only information put out by psychiatric professionals but also the experiences of real people.

C-PTSD

Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder occurs when a person experiences repeated, consistent trauma, especially at an early age.

That doesn’t mean that adults cannot and do not develop C-PTSD, they do, and for a variety of reasons; adult sufferers have the same points of origin in the diagnosis as children do. Additionally, it may take years for someone to seek help, feel their symptoms are severe enough to need to, or be able to extricate themselves from the situation in order to receive help of any kind. They may be an adult by the time this happens.

The important thing to remember about C-PTSD is that it isn’t a single traumatic incident, and you are more likely to have this form of PTSD if the trauma occurred early in life, it was inflicted by someone close to you, and/or was inflicted by someone you still see on a regular basis.

Some good examples to give you the idea include:

ongoing domestic violence

child abuse and/or neglect

being raised by a parent with a severe disorder like Narcissistic Personality Disorder

repeatedly witnessing violence or abuse

torture

kidnapping

being a part of a cult

being a victim of human trafficking or slavery

It isn’t “complex” because it is always across the board “more severe.” This isn’t simply “even worse PTSD,” and shouldn’t be treated like that. Its source is more complex, the development and embedded varieties of its impact are, and the ongoing treatment is.

Particularly when C-PTSD occurs in childhood, there are lasting effects on a person’s development. They have developed in an environment that constantly has them highly stressed both physically and psychologically, and in which they learn many ways of coping, lessening or negating harm, and so on, that leave them less than optimally functional and integrated in life outside the situation.

While the person has the symptoms of PTSD, they will additionally exhibit:

difficulty developing and/or maintaining relationships of any sort

intense, consistent feelings of worthlessness, shame, and guilt

problems managing and even understanding their own emotions

suicidal thoughts

dissociation

increased risk-taking behaviors

Those who have had their actual development rerouted to deal with the situations that generate C-PTSD have a higher incidence of physical symptoms, suicide, self-harm, substance abuse, and are at higher risk of repeat victimization.

They might go for some time without realizing that their daily experiences are neither the norm nor something sustainable, or how atypical their traumatic experiences were compared to those around them. It can sometimes take a serious life-event (suicide attempt, drug rehab, losing too many jobs, homelessness, or finding themselves in a genuine, loving relationship) for them to fully recognize something is wrong, and even then, their feelings of worthlessness, ingrained lack of self-confidence, and belief that they don’t deserve any better can prevent them from seeking help outside of themselves.

They may also believe that something is just “wrong” with them, that they are innately messed up, or that they have a different mental illness. And the unwillingness to open up to people, relieve events, etc. can additionally leave them unwilling to seek or continue care when they believe they have a different, underlying problem. Again, choosing to deal with this themselves through self-isolating, self-medicating, and seeking only relationships and jobs that will work within the framework of the disorder as it effects them.

Additionally, many sufferers of both C-PTSD and PTSD experience the same sense of societal shaming surrounding mental illness. They may struggle with denial, and refuse to seek assistance due to the stigma and all it entails.

Shared aspects of PTSD and C-PTSD

They’re both, obviously, severe, life-altering trauma experiences and resultant disorders. They both easily make the sufferer feel like the trauma and disorder is impossible or undesirable for others to deal with, that they are not worthy of being in close relationships, among many other similarities in experience living with either disorder regardless of widely varying traumas.

They share psychological and physical impacts, and there is a lot of overlap.

The core symptoms of PTSD are shared with C-PTSD:

relieving the trauma(s)

avoiding and emotional numbing

hyperarousal

The shared physical symptoms can include:

headaches

nausea, stomach ache, and digestive upsets

difficulty sleeping and insomnia

sweating, clamminess

chest pain and difficulty breathing

manifestations of low-grade to severe pain

dizziness

Shared behaviors can include:

difficulty concentrating to outright dissociating

self-harm

substance abuse

being hyper-vigilant, easily startled

may seem to be over-reactive to/in situations that others are perceiving as normal or not that big of a deal due to lower perception of personal emotions and lower emotional regulation

including explosive anger or defensiveness

development of anxiety and depression disorders, the symptoms thereof

Again, both PTSD and C-PTSD are serious disorders caused by trauma, and they both need to be treated with respect and accuracy when written into a character - be that an OC or a canon character. It is unfortunate, but these symptoms and the realities of life with either disorder are often portrayed badly in wider media, and the RPC often imitates what it sees.

PTSD and C-PTSD, like the incidents of trauma that created them (rape, child abuse, domestic violence, miscarriage, etc.), are not a plot-point, other point of interest, or a character trait, let alone a “character flaw.” They’re not something you only bring up for attention, to get your muse out of a bad spot, or to add dramatics when you’re bored in a thread. Neither are they something you need to attach to your muse simply to give them A Label. These are, I cannot stress this enough, serious topics, and they deserve to be treated that way.

You can do that by defining which variety of PTSD your muse may actually have, then adding research of both the disorder and how it impacts a variety of real people. Making your muse more realistic and being dedicated to sticking with it.

Below are some links to get you started on research! Please note, the real stories, as well as some information, may be graphic or triggering. Read responsibly.

C-PTSD

Out of the Storm - Personal Stories of C-PTSD

-Contains real stories from those with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Their experiences have a huge range; bullying, childhood neglect and abuse, and sexual abuse and assault.

I Have Post-Traumatic Stress and Didn’t Know It - and You Might, Too

-Personal story of living, unknowingly, with C-PTSD. An especially great read for writers who have muses who hold a lot of responsibility in their daily lives, who may not realize their experiences are C-PTSD related, etc. Contains discussion of parental emotional abuse, mental illness and childhood trauma, and rape.

What is C-PTSD?

-Excellent resource for detailed breakdowns of C-PTSD giving without a clinical, impersonal tone. The definitions of the disorder itself, symptoms and how it manifests and impacts daily life, and much more. A highly recommended source, and one with further resources on-site.

11 “Habits” of People Living with C-PTSD

-Short breakdown of C-PTSD, followed by snippets of specific experiences in the words of those living with the disorder, a relatively short article.

PTSD

Rebecca’s Story: Living with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

-Personal story of a woman living with PTSD from, in short, being stalked by a co-worker. It’s an excellent article, particularly for how mental illnesses sufferers are treated and portrayed, and how that adds another layer of difficulty to their lives. Obviously, this may be triggering to those who have been stalked, and includes mentions of graphic threats.

My experience of PTSD

-A personal story of medical trauma resulting in PTSD. Many of the PTSD stories you’ll find are from women and involve sexual trauma or harassment, in trying to find a variety of stories, I’ve found this one. By this point, you should be noticing many similarities in these stories, regardless of specific trauma.

Leaving the Battlefield: Soldier Shares Story of PTSD

-So many muses experience PTSD through battle-related incidents, and those depictions are not always accurate in media. This is a personal story about one soldier’s experiences. His perception of PTSD, denial, and shame at having the disorder is something that echoes throughout the previous accounts. So do the similarities of daily struggles to maintain to regular life. Before anyone wants to get Tumblr Nasty about it: there isn’t any “war propaganda” present in this story, the location of it is irrelevant to what you’re supposed to be learning here. It’s literally this man’s experience, don’t.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

-Breakdown of symptoms and causes from Mayo Clinic, so obviously, this is more clinical-minded. Particularly useful for its lists of things like “symptoms of negative changes in thinking and mood” and increased risk-factor for other disorders.

I hope this helps you to assess and write more accurately your muses with C-PTSD or PTSD, and to consider these things more fully when having your muse experience a traumatic event in your plots.

-------

Please, remember when you are reading these accounts, and anywhere you might encounter PTSD sufferers; these are REAL PEOPLE. Treat them and their stories with respect. You’ll note that, unlike other posts on this blog, I didn’t advise you to approach the source. Many trauma sufferers won’t be comfortable sharing their experiences for the sake of your creative hobby. You may, at your respectful discretion, discuss this with close friends you know to be impacted by PTSD, just keep in mind that respect, discretion, and only bringing the topic up when they are comfortable with it, with specific questions, is necessary here. These are not fictional characters! Do not write someone’s real experiences into your character, thread, etc. verbatim, that’s...fucked up. Thanks in advance for being responsible, respectful adults, from a real life PTSD sufferer. -Vespertine

#rp help #rp advice #muse development #character development #writing advice #muses with ptsd #muses with cptsd #cptsd and ptsd post #muse inspiration #diverse muses #neurodiverse characters #rp better

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uwuwriting · 4 years ago

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Shigaraki, Dabi, Shinsou and Kirishima getting caught.

Request: is it okay to ask for headcanons with Dabi, Shinsou, Shigaraki and Kirishima getting caught making out with their female s/o? - anonymous

Things are getting spicy *not really*. That’s all I have to say. Love yaa. 💖💖💖

rules

warnings: spicy times

Shigaraki Tomura

-He’s so touch starved.

-And as much as he dislikes touching others because of his quirk he still wants to be held.

-So when you two get together and he slowly gets a grip on this new situation he is at peace.

-Kisses are his favorite.

-Kisses are a very intimate action that can both be soft and dirty.

-He adored when you kissed him.

-He didn’t know much about affection but giving you a kiss when you woke up or when you came back from a mission was a must.

-Now, he is a male.

-A horny one at that.

-When your relationship reaches the stage of um NSFW content he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

-When he couldn’t have you right then and there he would just kiss the hell out of you.

-Make out sessions with his crusty ass are a ride.

-He switches between teasing you with little nips to full out swallowing you.

-He never fails to make your knees weak though.

-You’ll be feeling your knees buckle as he has you caged between him and the wall behind the bar.

-He didn’t like the others seeing him being all soft for you so he tends to hide his affection while around LoV.

-Except Kurogiri.

-Kurogiri is his dad and he is proud to see his boy getting himself a s/o.

-Now back to the others.

-Dabi and Spinner maybe Mister Compress as well are all little shits that would most likely push him to his freaking limit and you’ll have to hold him back.

-Toga and Twice will be weird about it, Toga will fangirl over you two kissing while Twice will go from praising Shiggy *since you’re hot af* to asking him how much you scream when yall are doing the deed.

-They all are a headache for him and he hates how uncomfortable they make both of you feel.

-So it’s a really rare occasion when they actually catch you two making out.

-But one day Shiggy was feeling overly needy and you couldn’t do the do so he started kissing your neck and soon enough he had reached your lips.

-He backed you up to the nearest wall and pinned your hands above your head, raising one of your legs and hooking it over his waist.

-You were just as needy so you could only whine and let out small moans as he kissed you silly.

- “Oh god I’m gonna throw up from the crustyness- Awwww how cute.”

-Twice.....

-Shiggy jumped away from you but his kiss swollen lips gave him away immediately.

-The rest of the league filed in after him and their eyes were glued to your lips or your panting.

- “Getting freaky on a job? And then you say I’m a horn dog.”

-It was Dabi this time who spoke.

-The teasing came in from the rest of the team and you both slowly died from embarrassment.

-What was more embarrassing was that maybe just maybe Shiggy had gotten a little TOO excited and was now hiding behind you.

-Yeah kissing him was a roller coaster.

Dabi

-Salty bitch is also needy.

-Sure he may be trying to convince himself that you are just friends with benefits but that doesn’t mean he can’t kiss you silly.

-Does it make his stomach flutter when you kiss?

-Yes.

-Does he feel something warm stir in his chest?

-Yes...

-Does he feel at home every time you are on his lap, arms around his neck as you smile into your kiss?

-Also yes.

-What’s you point?

-Anyways, he really likes kissing you.

-Whenever you two are kissing you can’t really know whats in store for you.

-It may be a soft kiss, gentle and slow the type that manages to steal your breath away because you never would have expected Dabi to be this careful.

-Or it may be rough and dominant, your knees buckle by the sheer force he puts into the kiss and you are definitely getting ready for some spicy times.

-He isn’t against PDA like Shiggy, he can take the teasing and the disgusting glances he gets from the rest of the LoV but you rarely give in to his antics.

-Since you are just friends with benefits why should you?

-You have told him as such when he questioned your behavior.

-It hurts him in some weird way that he doesn’t like.

-Boy can’t accept the fact that he may be falling in love.

-So he ignores you just like you ignore him.

-Sure you have your special nights before missions but apart from that nothing else.

-You avoid each other like the plague.

-Eventually it gets to him.

-The sexual tension between you two is insufferable and the way he has to stay away from you is killing him.

-He wants to hold you again.

-God I’m soft for him.

-During one of your late nights you went outside for some fresh air because the atmosphere inside the bar was becoming suffocating from the cigarette smoke.

-That was his chance and he took it, trailing after you.

-You looked at each other for some time and I kid you not you didn’t know who moved first.

-Your lips connected and it felt so right.

-His hands roamed your sides as the kiss grew hungry and you knew what would follow.

-Then you heard the squeaking of the door opening and saw Toga at the entrance.

-Her eyes were glued on you two, Dabi’s eyes opening for a split second glancing at her before he pushed you to a wall and deepened the kiss even more.

-Toga let out a flustered giggle before going back inside.

-When you pulled apart for air, you were both panting lips red and swollen as your eyes never left the others.

- “I want to kiss you more often.”

-That was his way of saying he wanted something more than what you had right now.

-You just kissed him again.

Shinsou Hitoshi

-Poor baby is also a touch starved kitty.

-You know he loves you, he has told you as such many times while you were cuddling.

-The number of his hoodies that are now yours until they lose his s=scent is ridiculous.

-You wearing his hoodies was a way to say that you were his and he was yours.

-That didn’t stop people from hitting on you though.

-Many believed that Shinsou was plain old passive and maybe even weak.

-Everyone was aware of his quirk and what it could do so they assumed that he didn’t like using it because it would make him look villainous.

-So they took that into their advantage and hit on you mercilessly.

-You always pushed them away and roast their asses.

-They even have the audacity to flirt with you while Shinsou is close to yall.

-And it hurts his feelings poor baby.

-Did others really see him as not good enough for you?

-His insecurities get the better of him and he pouts for the rest of the day.

-Until you are alone and you cuddle the life out of him, peppering him with kisses and ‘I love you’s.

-You set out to scare his insecurities away with your affection.

-There are times though when his insecurities don’t come out.

-They are replaced by jealousy.

-And a jealous Shinsou is a horny Shinsou.

-He would drag you somewhere you couldn’t be seen easily and would just kiss the life out of you.

-Your leg is probed over his waist as his hand was squeezing your upper thigh.

-His other hand is buried in your hair as he nips at your neck, jaw , lower lip before he starts to kiss you again.

-You let out little moans as he continues driving you crazy.

- “Shinsou man wasn’t that your girl back there-”

-Kaminari.

-Of course.

-The lights went out when you two parted and Kami was faced with your flustered face and Shinsou’s swollen lips.

-He passed out like a second later, his face a beet red as little sparks left his fingers.

-It was hilarious and embarrassing.

-You had to apologize when he woke up but before you could do anything, Shinsou managed to pin you to the wall again and leave a very obvious hickey on the column of your neck.

-No one approached you after they saw that hickey.

-Maybe one or two tried getting with you again.

-The next day you appeared with another hickey.

-They got the message boo.

Kirishima Eijirou

-Hesitation?

-What is that?

-Don’t know her.

-His PDA game is so strong.

-He legit can’t keep his hands off of you.

-An arm around your waist, one of his hands in your back pocket, hugs from behind, small kisses on the cheek or pecks on the lips.

-The bakusquad is sick of it.

-And by bakusquad I mean Bakugou.

-Mina is excited for her friend, Kaminari is a dumb horny idiot so he doesn’t mind borderline enjoys it and Sero....is high so he isn’t really in touch with reality.

-So kissing you in public was common.

-Small pecks though.

-Making out sessions in public is a nono.

-You made that rule because you didn’t like the looks you were getting.

-Now if he suggests that you go behind the school for some one on one time you won’t so no per say.

-Sure you’ll hesitate but after a few soft kisses that lingered just enough to leave you wanting for more.

-You basically pounce on him.

-Once you are behind the school you don’t waste time before your lips are on his and the kiss is turning hungry.

-Hands under his shirt as his own hands roam your thighs.

-He may dip under your skirt for a fleeting moment making you gasp and kissing you harder.

-You never go further while you’re out in public.

-Public kissing is different form public sex.

-Much different.

-While you are kissing him everything zones out and he is the only thing you can concentrate on.

-Then you hear a choking sound and a high pitched squeal.

-Turning around you are met with a passed out Izuku and a nose bleeding Mineta who has zoned in on Kiri’s hand under your skirt.

-You have a stare off with the grape boy before the embarrassment sets in and you are hiding behind you boyfriend, shielding yourself from Mineta’s eyes as much as you can and bury your head in his shirt.

-Kirishima is still looking at Izuku who is passed out.

-Then he notices Mineta who is drooling over your legs that are peeking out from behind Kiri and he goes straight to protective boyfriend mode.

-He is grabbing your hand as he gives you a last kiss on the cheek and tells you to take Izuku to Recovery Girl.

-He will deal with Mineta.

-He too ended up in Recovery Girl sporting a black eye.

-Love this little shark with all my heart.

TAG TEAM AY: @iwaqchan @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei

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otherpens · 2 years ago

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So I’m gonna be starting on Prozac, soon.

I’ll probably make this a hidden post or something, maybe, I’m not sure.

I just want to document how it goes; where I’m starting from, so I can have a better idea of what changes I’m experiencing.

So, as of right now, unmedicated (as far as mental health goes.) Taking low-dose hydrochorithiazide just to keep my BP manageable, don’t know to what extent the anxiety has played into this but we’ll see. I have a family history of high blood pressure and two of my immediate family members have been on similar medication since the ages of 25 and 35, respectively, so me starting it at 35 isn’t a huge shocker. And Vitamin D supplements but I ran out so it’s been a few days without those. I’ll get more later.

Currently what seems to be my depression manifests in long periods (weeks and often months) where I feel I can do very little apart from going to work, occasionally see family (like once every 2 weeks, at most,) and barely keeping up with washing dishes and having clean laundry. (It’s not folded nor is it put away, I have a circulating mountain of clean laundry living on my sofa, it’s not ideal, I know, but it IS clean.)

I have a job that necessitates I go in for my shift, be physically present and perform several varied hands-on tasks. This is mostly manageable at the moment, but occasionally I have needed to take mental health days when I have felt I’m not getting near enough rest or when I have a run of bad anxiety/depression days and it eats into the ‘reserves’ I feel I need to have for work.

I’m naturally an introvert and my job requires me to be socially On--not only to work with my colleagues as part of a team, but also because I need to be very emotionally clued in with my clients, who do not always communicate directly or effectively, or even verbally. So when I’m done with work, 9.99/10 times, I will NOT want to see or even be around people in my downtime. I will put off errands just because I don’t want to be outside of my apartment. (Pandemic’s really helped with my general apathy for being Out and About...people are insane and loud and messy and I can’t make myself be kind after a point.)

I’m hoping to see a change in my energy/motivation levels, just to get things done on a day to day basis without it feeling like a major drama. When I do a single small chore it feels like I’ve won some kind of lottery and I don’t know what brought it on or when the next lottery lucky strike is gonna come. Makes it hard to get into a routine when you can’t depend on your own will to do anything but lie facedown on the bed and feel terrible about not doing the thing. At this point I’d almost welcome some manic behaviours so I could see some stuff get ticked off my To Do list.

I’m asexual and happily single so I’m not overly concerned about the warnings that my libido may take a hit. If it’s a trade to getting stuff done, I know I’ll take Get Stuff Done in a heartbeat.

As far as the headaches/fatigue/insomnia/digestive upset issues go, I hope I can power through them. I’ll as the pharmacist what I can possible do or take to combat temporary side effects, in terms of ibuprofen and maybe melatonin and the like.

I’m also getting a flu shot and COVID booster on Thursday so that’ll be fun.

#me #personal #Prozac #health stuff #TMI?

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master-sass-blast · 3 years ago

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Not Normal.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Not gonna lie, this whole fic is me projecting just how bad I want a massage.

Summary: “I’m not having you break my back if yours is already busted.”

The corner of her mouth curls up in a smirk, but only for a moment. “I’m not some fragile, old lady. I know my limits.”

You lift your chin and stare her down. “I’m not consenting.”

Lin scowls and lets out an irritated huff. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

It stings, just a bit, but you shrug it off and turn to leave. “I’ll let you rest.” You make it halfway to the door, then stop when an idea occurs to you. “Actually...”

Lin looks up when you walk back into the sitting room. “What, change your mind?”

You roll your eyes. “No --but there might be something else I can do for you.”

AKA you get Lin to agree to some self-care, for once in her life.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.

Rating: T on account of my love of swear words.

Word count: 4.5k.

There’s a certain element of “razzle dazzle” that comes with “seeing” --or, perhaps more accurately, being fucked by--Lin Beifong.

You know that the Beifongs are an old money family; hell, everyone in the world practically knows it. The flying boar crest pops up in nearly every major Earth Kingdom enterprise, from mining, to textiles, to political halls.

Lin, despite her staunch pragmatism, is no exception. Her apartment is in the nicest complex in the city --one of the nicest in the world, even--where rent goes for several tens of thousands of yuan a month. She drives the latest model Satomobile (and even with her personal acquaintanceship with Asami Sato, it’s no small financial investment). The fixtures in her apartment --what of them there are, given Lin’s leanings toward minimalism--are all high end, from her furniture, to her bed sheets, to the toiletries that neatly line the built-in shelf in her shower.

And, if she has an occasion to stay somewhere other than her apartment, her tastes don’t waver in the slightest.

According to Lin --who’d given you a short, gruff answer when you’d asked the first time about why she’d invited you to the Four Elements and not her apartment--it’s because of the Spirit Vine entanglement that’s taken over a good chunk of the city. Whenever she has to work in the outer reaches of Republic City, she stays in a hotel suite until everything’s resolved since the drive back to her apartment has practically tripled.

(Personally, you’re not complaining. It’s not every day you get to sweat up the sheets in a bed of a five star hotel room.)

You stride up the steps to the entrance of the hotel, a spring in your step. Your mind’s already awhirl with countless options for the evening; all of them end with your ability to walk being severely impaired.

(It’s the small things in life.)

The front desk staff already knows you (a credit to how often Lin wrecks your back). A crisply dressed concierge member hands you a heavy metal key when you detour to the desk, then gives you a polite “Have a pleasant stay” as you head over to the elevator banks.

It’s a long, tortuous two minutes to the penthouse.

The penthouse comes with its own butler --something you know rankles Lin, but it’s hotel policy. They greet you when you step off the elevator and usher you into the sitting room.

Lin’s there, stretched out on a velvet upholstered sofa with a pillow propped under her head. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her mouth is set into a tight scowl.

You can already feel the bruises on your thighs; a shudder runs down your spine. “Rough day?”

Lin grunts, then tries to sit up --only to gasp in pain and stop halfway.

You frown, alarmed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lin spits through gritted teeth. She winces as she forces herself to finish sitting up and settles against the couch gingerly. “It’s just my hip.”

You cross your arms over your chest and arch one eyebrow at her. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“I said I’m fine,” she snaps.

“I’m not having you break my back if yours is already busted.”

The corner of her mouth curls up in a smirk, but only for a moment. “I’m not some fragile, old lady. I know my limits.”

You lift your chin and stare her down. “I’m not consenting.”

Lin scowls and lets out an irritated huff. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

It stings, just a bit, but you shrug it off and turn to leave. “I’ll let you rest.” You make it halfway to the door, then stop when an idea occurs to you. “Actually...”

Lin looks up when you walk back into the sitting room. “What, change your mind?”

You roll your eyes. “No --but there might be something else I can do for you.”

“Like what?”

“I do have a job aside from letting you fuck my brains out,” you quip, which gets a terse chuckle from the older woman. “I’m a healer. Massage therapy and chiropractic adjustment, with a specialty in dealing with injury and scar tissue rehabilitation.”

Lin stares blankly at you. “Oh.”

You do an internal victory dance; it’s not everyday you manage to surprise Lin Beifong. “I might be able to get you some pain relief.” You purse your lips when her expression sours and put your hands on her hips. “Pride isn’t worth pain, Lin.”

She opens her mouth to argue --then winces again and sighs. “Fine.”

You nod --after a moment to process your shock. “Okay. I’ll need to pick up a couple things from the office I work in.”

She waves one hand and tips her head back against the couch. “Fine.”

You stare at her for a beat, then turn on your heel and head to the door before she can change her mind.

***

It’s times like this that you’re grateful for the invention of the phone.

Thanks to the Spirit Vine blockages and rush hour traffic, it takes an hour to get to your office. You call Lin from there to let her know that’ll likely take you a while to get back --which she accepts with little more than a grunt--then pack up what you need.

Thank Spirits for the invention of the portable massage table, too.

By the time you get back to the Four Elements, the sun is setting (although, for late winter, that’s not surprising). Your foot taps against the floor of the elevator car as it whirs past the countless floors to the penthouse. As soon as the doors open, you exit --the butler lets you into the penthouse proper--and head straight for the sitting room.

Lin’s still there. She’s laying on the couch in the dark with one arm over her eyes.

“I need to turn the light on so I can set up.”

She grunts in response.

You turn on a table lamp, then start setting up your massage table. You keep glancing over at Lin, try to suss out what’s ailing her.

She’s tense --but, then, Lin’s almost always some sort of tense. Her jaw is clenched tight, and her hands are curled into fists. Her whole body looks keyed up, almost like relaxing hurts.

You realize she hasn’t taken her arm away from her eyes. “Light sensitive headache?”

Another grunt.

“Does talking hurt?” When she grunts again, you tut softly in sympathy. You secure the last leg of the massage table, then pick up your fur skein you use to hold water (it’s easier than toting around a bowl) and amble over to the couch. You crouch next to her, study her face and where she’s holding tension for a moment, then quietly ask, “Is it your scars?”

Lin tenses --likely on reflex, you’ve seen it in several trauma patients--but grits out, “Partially.”

“Alright.” You bend some water out of your skein. “I’m going to try to get you some relief so you can open your eyes and talk, okay?” When she nods, you continue. “I’ll need to work on your face, head, and neck. Is it alright if I touch you?”

Lin purses her lips, then takes her arm away from her eyes and nods.

You gently place your hands against her cheeks and use the water to feel along the tissue and muscle there. You can feel the scars --the angry, inflamed, knotted stripes of tissue that streak across her right cheek--and, sure enough, when you start massaging them gently, you can feel the pull of tension shooting into the surrounding muscles, up her forehead and scalp, and down into her neck.

“Yeah, that’s a gnarly one,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, as you try to find the root knot. You move one hand to Lin’s neck and start pressing your fingers against it. “Did you take a hit to the right side of your face recently?”

Lin’s lips curl into a tight smirk. “Got slugged in the face by a perp.”

“Ouch.” You suck a breath through your teeth. “Yeah, that would probably do it.”

“Should see the other guy.”

“Oh, I already knew they’re worse off.” You smile when she chuckles, then focus on feeling out the tension in her shoulders and neck. “Okay, I think I’ve got at least part of the root here. I’ll be able to get the rest of it once we get you over to the table.” You take a deep breath, then place your water-covered hands on her shoulders. “I’m gonna start down and work my way up so that the bigger muscles help the smaller ones release. You’re probably going to feel really warm from all the blood flow moving through the tissues again. If you need me to stop, tell me.”

Lin takes a deep breath to brace herself, then nods. “Just do what you need to do.”

You nod back --out of habit, her eyes are still closed--and start using the water to massage the muscles how you’ve been trained. You knead her shoulders with your waterbending, using the water in her muscle tissue to massage out the adhesions. “Come on,” you mutter as you work at a particularly stubborn knot. “I know you’re not happy; please let go for me…” You smile when you feel the muscle --finally--relax. “Thank you.”

From there, it’s like chasing after an unraveling rope. The release in the shoulder muscles triggers relaxation in Lin’s neck and face; all you have to do is follow along and catch any stragglers.

Lin lets out a gasp, then relaxes against the couch.

“That’s it,” you murmur with a smile as her body goes limp. You focus on the crown of her head, make sure the headache finishes dissipating properly, then bend the remaining water back into your jug once you’re done. “How’s that?”

Lin opens her eyes and blinks. “Feels like I got a full night’s sleep for once.” She pauses, then grimaces. “And like I’ve been out in the sun.”

You laugh quietly and nod. “That’s the blood saturating your muscles and soft tissue. It’ll settle in a bit --slowly!” you hiss, placing your hand against her back to help her sit up. “Don’t fucking undo all my hard work.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lin says, smirking. She lets you help her stand --though she glares at you a little for it--then winces as she straightens.

“Yeah, I figured there’d be more,” you mumble as you look her up and down. “Sit on the center of the table, arms down. Do you mind if I turn on another light so I can see better?”

“That’s fine.”

You turn on another lamp, then skirt around the table so you can better examine the set of Lin’s shoulders and her back. You press your fingers down the length of her spine, checking for resistance. “It’s your left hip that bothers you, right?”

“Yes.”

“That tracks with what I’m seeing,” you mutter as you check her ribs. “Can you turn your head to the left for me? And to the right?” You place your hands on her neck so you can feel the motion of the joints and muscles, then tap the left side of her neck. “You’ve got a lot of resistance here, likely caused by your body trying to correct your favoring your right side. I’m going to do some massage work first; the bones move easier if the muscles are already relaxed.” You step back and dig through the bag you’d brought with you. “Are you sensitive to scents?”

Lin grunts, displeased. “No fucking lavendar.”

You chuckle, then opt for the unscented massage oil, just to be safe. “Shirt and bra off, please, then lay flat on your stomach.”

Even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before, the sight of Lin Beifong topless is always enough to leave you breathless. The musculature in her back, shoulders, chest, abdomen, arms, even her hands, to say nothing of her tits…

You force yourself to close your mouth before you start drooling.

Lin lies down on her stomach, lets you reposition her arms and adjust the angle of her neck…

You sigh when you realize her hands have curled into fists. “Lin.”

“What?”

“I need you to relax.”

“I am.”

You arch one eyebrow at the back of her head. “For a cop, you’re not a very good liar.”

“Not supposed to be. That’s the attorneys’ job.”

You snort, then shake your head with a sigh. “Lin. Please. It’ll be harder for me if you don’t relax.”

She sighs --and then slowly, reluctantly, she lets her body go limp against the massage table.

You murmur your thanks --and tuck away the interesting fact that she conceded to make things easier for you--then pour some massage oil onto your hand and rub it between your palms. Once your hands are warm, you place them on Lin’s upper back and start working.

There’s a lot to work on. Between Lin’s sheer muscle mass and the stress-slash-physical wear and tear of her job, there’s knots and adhesions all over her back.

Lin grunts when something near her left scapula goes crunch. “What was that?”

“Gristle,” you reply with a smile. When she scoffs, you laugh. “I’m serious. The muscles around the shoulder blades get used a lot. The knots that form give the muscle tissue about the same consistency as gristle.” You dig your thumb into another line of knotted muscle and press it through. “Crunch, crunch, crunch. Do you do any yoga or regular stretching?”

“I do some stretching as part of my workout routine.”

“Good, good. I’d recommend adding some upper body stretches to your regimen; it’d help with all the tension you carry up here.”

Lin snorts, low and soft. “Whatever you say, kid.”

***

It’s slow work. There’s a lot of trauma and scarring on and in Lin’s body --no surprise there, given her line of work.

You switch back to waterbending-based healing when you get to her left hip. You grimace when you feel how inflamed the joint is, then start working on calming the irritated and overworked tendons. “You need to take it easier on the job.”

“I need to do my job properly,” Lin fires back, sucking in a breath when you adjust her hip further.

You switch to pain relief techniques. “You won’t be doing your job at all if you destroy the joint.”

Lin grumbles under her breath, but doesn’t argue further.

Once you’re done with the massage work, you let her get dressed before having her lie down on her back. “Have you had a chiropractic adjustment before?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, good. I’m going to work on your back first.” You put a padded board underneath her back, then have her cross her arms over her chest --one atop the other, hands on her shoulders so her arms make a ‘V’ shape. “Alright, curl your chin up.” You put one arm around her, supporting her back, then help her up so you can put your fist between Lin’s back and the board. “Okay, deep breath in… and let it out.”

Lin grunts when you roll her down over your hand and something in her back pops. “Shit.”

You freeze. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Keep going.”

You keep working up her back, then take the board out from under her back once you’re done. “How does that feel?”

Lin shifts experimentally. “Better.”

“Good, good.” You move to stand at the head of the massage table and start palpating her shoulders and neck. “Alright, let me take the weight of your head in my hands.” You gently turn her head to the left, feeling for any resistance. “Just let your body relax… okay…” You get her neck in position, feeling out where the tension rests. “Tilt your chin up for me, please.” You adjust your grip on her head. “Alright, deep breath in, then out…” You wait for her to exhale, then jerk her head to the left.

Lin groans when her neck cracks. “That felt good.”

“I bet.” You repeat the process for the right side, then have Lin roll on her sides so you can adjust her lower back. “Lay back down, I want to check your knees and ankles.”

Lin arches one eyebrow at you. “Is that… normal?”

“They can be safely adjusted, if that’s what you mean.” You flash her a teasing grin as you walk down the side of the massage table. “Besides, call it a hunch.”

“What ‘hunch?’”

By way of response, you start feeling around her knees and ankles. You nod, then laugh. “Yep. Definitely an earthbender.”

Lin smirks up at the ceiling. “Your first hint was?”

“You lot are rough on your ankles and knees. All that stomping around. I can tell just by how jammed up everything is in here.” You adjust her knees, then move to her ankles --and frown. “What the hell kind of shoes are you wearing, day to day?”

“My uniform boots.”

You squint at her from the base of the massage table. “The metal ones? With the retractable soles so you can use your seismic sense when needed?”

“...Yes.” Lin lifts her head, then chuckles when she sees the stink eye you’re giving her. “They’re practical.”

“They have no support for your joints,” you fire back. You smack her shin --albeit not harshly--when she lets out a huff of laughter, then set about adjusting her ankles. “Stubborn old fart.”

Lin snorts. “Pigheaded kid.”

You smile and shake your head.

***

By the time you finish, it’s nearly ten. The sky is dark, save for the few visible stars --thanks, light pollution--and the sounds of the city have wound down to a gentle roar.

Lin stands, stretches, then lets out a sigh of relief when there’s no pain or resistance. “Thanks.”

You wave your hand as you go about packing up your supplies. “No problem. I wasn’t about to let you suffer.”

Lin nods after a moment, then pads over to a nearby desk. “How much do you charge for your services?”

You gape. “I-- Lin, no--”

“I can always pick a number at random.”

Your mouth snaps shut. You sigh, but acquiesce (mostly because you’re certain she’ll pick an absurdly high amount just to get a rise out of you). You rattle off a price --an expensive price, maybe worth two or three day’s work in total--then accept the check Lin hands you moments later. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

You huff a little --it still feels weird, taking a friend-but-not-friend’s money--as you tuck the check in your bag --and then your stomach decides to imitate a dying whale.

“I’m guessing you didn’t have dinner,” Lin surmises.

You shrug. “Kind of hard to give a massage and eat at the same time.”

The corner of Lin’s mouth quirks up. She nods to a nearby phone. “Kang’s is still open, if you want to put in an order.”

“...Okay.”

This entire night is a break in your usual routine. Massage and chiropractic work aside, normally you’re either headed home or in the middle of being fucked into the nearest solid surface by now. There’s no casual hanging out --and, sure, Lin’s ordered take out for the two of you on occasion, when you were both hungry, but all this still feels… different.

(You’re not sure what’s scarier, the change or the fact that part of you likes it.)

You put in the order --fortunately, Lin’s ordered from Kang’s before, so you know what she likes--then put down the phone just as the clock strikes ten. “Oh! Murder Mystery Theater is on!”

Lin looks over at you. “What?”

“It’s a crime-drama radio show. They run a new show every week.” You gesture to the radio. “Do you mind?” You take Lin’s hand wave as the permission it is, and turn on the radio before tuning it to the right station.

The sound of slightly muffled string instruments floats out the speaker.

“This week! On Murder Mystery Theater…”

You make yourself comfortable in an armchair that matches the velvet upholstered sofa. The new shows air at nine, so this one’s a rerun, but you recognize it as one of your favorites --a dramatic game of cat and mouse between the intrepid detectives and a serial killer hiding in plain sight.

Five minutes in, and you realize that Lin’s listening along, even as she reads from a newspaper. You catch her looking over at the radio or staring off into space while she processes the story unfolding before her.

Eventually, she flips to the next page of the paper and says, “The doctor did it. He gets off on killing his patients.”

You raise your eyebrows as you look over at her. You already know she’s wrong --it’s the mortician’s assistant, who so happens to be the doctor’s son. A smile stretches across your lips as an idea forms in your brain. “Wanna bet?”

Lin looks up from the paper and smirks at you. “What’s your wager?”

You mull it over, then grin wickedly. “If you’re wrong, I get to use the cuffs on you at some point.”

Lin scoffs and sets the paper down on the coffee table in front of the sofa with a thwap. “And what could you possibly offer to make that a balanced wager?”

“If you’re right… I’ll behave for a night. Whatever you want, no complaining, no fighting.”

Lin’s eyes light up. She smirks, then extends a hand out to you.

You grin and shake her hand.

***

Dinner arrives halfway through the show. You and Lin eat in the sitting room, listening to the show while eating (spicy possum chicken with steamed vegetables and rice for her, braised hippo beef with spring rolls for you).

“--but Jang said she was with her husband at an evening show until eleven.”

“...Which means he can’t have been playing cards with his friends at ten.”

“Not unless he’s a Spirit. Come on, I’ll drive. Let’s go see if Lee remembers this ‘show’ he went to with the missus.”

“This isn’t half bad,” Lin comments around half a mouthful of possum chicken.

“I thought you liked Kang’s,” you fire back, even though you caught her meaning the first time.

She rolls her eyes, swallows, then continues. “I meant the show. Its description of police procedure is actually on point.”

“The creator shadowed police departments in the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation for over a year before writing the first episode,” you explain before biting into a spring roll. You chew, swallow, then add, “He used to work as a PR rep for law enforcement when they had to work difficult cases.”

Lin nods, impressed. “It’s definitely better than all the crime family and love triangle shit that gets put out there.”

“Well… that stuff happens, doesn’t it?”

“Not the way the media likes to write it.”

You concede with a shrug --then perk up when you realize the script is heading towards the twist reveal. You shove the rest of your spring roll into your mouth to keep from tipping off Lin to your “insider information.”

“Lee Jang is a servant to this city. He’s been my coworker for three years! I think I’d know if he was a psychopath murderer.”

Lin’s brows knit together. She sets down her container of chicken and glares at the radio. “The mortician’s assistant?”

You shrug and take another bite of your entree to keep from grinning like an idiot. “Eh, there’s still time for things to shake out different. Each show always has a twist.”

Except it doesn’t “shake out different.” The mortician’s assistant is arrested, there’s a few brief trial scenes, and then it ends with an allocution when it’s apparent that the case isn’t going in the defendant’s favor.

Lin tosses her chopsticks against the coffee table and slumps back against the couch with a disgusted scowl. “Fucking dammit.”

“I guess that makes me the winner.” You tidy up your take out trash, pretending to pay Lin no mind as she glares holes into the side of your skull.

There’s no hiding your smug sense of victory --especially from a seasoned detective such as Lin Beifong.

She narrows her eyes. “You knew how the story would end.”

You lift your gaze to meet hers and smile, smug and unrepentant. “New shows air at nine. Reruns air at ten.”

Lin rolls her eyes. “So you cheated.”

“The odds are always in the house’s favor.” Your smile slips when you take in her obvious discomfort and displeasure. “We don’t have to hold the deal if you’re that upset about it.”

Her gaze cuts over to you. She studies you for a minute, then relaxes minutely and shakes her head. “It’s fine. A deal’s a deal.”

You’d argue, but something in her eyes --a familiar glint you’re accustomed to seeing before starts undressing you, or spanking you, or bending you over the nearest flat surface--makes you stop. Your cunt throbs, and you push through it by crossing your legs. “Alright, then. I’ll let you know when I want to collect.”

Lin rolls her eyes --but she’s smiling, just a hint. “Brat.”

“Funny, I thought that was why you liked me.”

Lin merely rolls her eyes again (but you swear you see her smile get bigger, just a bit).

You stand, stretch, then turn off the radio when it switches to a commercial. You eye the clock, then groan when you realize it’s almost eleven. “Dammit. I didn’t realize it was so late.”

It’s too late for a cab --again--or the hotel’s car service. Lin could drive you, but it’d be forever to get to your apartment building from here (thank you Spirit Vines and bureaucracy for impeding the city infrastructure).

Lin glances at the clock, then stands and starts clearing her share of the take out trash. “Stay here. Use the second bedroom.”

You nod, grateful (it’s not the first time you’ve stayed over with her at the hotel, given that the Spirit Vine roadblocks aren’t exactly new). “Thanks.”

Lin nods--

And then the two of you just stare at each other.

(Because, while this isn’t the first time you spent the night in her hotel suite, normally she fucks you in your bed, then heads to her own bedroom once you’re sated and on the verge of passing out.

But, if it wasn’t clear, this isn’t exactly “normal procedure.”)

Lin moves first. She nods again --awkward and jerky--then carries her trash over the bin in the kitchen before striding off to the room she usually uses. “I’m going to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” you reply, soft enough that you’re not sure she hears you. You blink when the door to her bedroom thumps shut, then sigh and force yourself to clean up and head for bed as well.

(Despite the luxurious mattress and bedding, sleep is a long time coming.)

#sass writes #lin beifong x reader #in a shocking move from me this one has no smut!#instead it's *caring*#dare i say *bonding*#perhaps even some notes of *fluff*#also i want a fucking massage so bad so i'm living vicariously through this fic #legend of korra #the hands that heal

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

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i feel like you write really good arguments, as a few people have brought up before, where the parties make mistakes but own up to them and acknowledge the other side. Same thing with Captain Sirius- his reprimands are always respectful. It feels mature and just well-thought out. But we know Sirius wasn't always like that, because he came to dumo's house knowing arguments=violence. Would you write a fic where Sirius learns how to argue/captain? maybe from Dumo-the-parent? Does that make sense?

Father-son bonding on this fine Thursday! I love it! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

Dumo’s phone rang halfway through his lunch, which wasn’t unusual, except for the fact that it was Sirius calling and not…well, literally anyone else. Sirius seemed rather allergic to his phone—text replies often went unanswered for an average of 3 hours, and he wasn’t sure he had ever managed to reach Sirius on the first ring. Concern flickered in his chest and he lifted it to his ear.

“H—”

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius said, breathless. “Hi, hello, it’s me—uh, it’s Sirius—and I was just calling to ask for some help because I’m the captain now—you know that, what am I doing—and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do and I’m kind of—”

“Sirius,” Dumo interrupted as soon as his astonishment faded. He had never heard Sirius say so many words in so little time. Silence fell on the other end of the line. “Sirius, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, then tell me what you need.”

Another beat of quiet passed. “So, I’m the captain now.”

“You are.”

“And the guys really like you, but I don’t even know where to start, so I was hoping you could give me a hand with this.”

“With what?”

“How do I make people like me?” Sirius asked, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

Dumo paused, confused. “They already do.”

“But I’m the captain now. They have to like me more, right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and laying down to stave off a headache. “Why don’t you come over and we can talk in person, alright?”

“Right.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, about that.”

“Sirius. Are you—are you currently on my porch?”

“…maybe.” Dumo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“You have a key.”

“I thought it would be rude to just let myself in.”

“Oh my god,” Dumo muttered, rising from his chair with a huff. The autumn wind howled as he opened the front door, stripping the trees of their leaves and turning Sirius’ cheeks vivid red as he stood on the top step with the phone still at his ear and anxiety written all over his face.

“Bonjour.”

“You can hang up the phone now.”

Sirius bit his lip and slid it back into his pocket, waiting awkwardly until Dumo motioned him inside and he hurried out of the chill. “Thanks for picking up, by the way.”

“Of course. I’ll always pick up the phone for you.” He guided him toward the kitchen with a hand on his shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Still so polite. The coffeepot was still warm from Celeste’s late breakfast, and Sirius’ eyes grew wide at the steam curling off the top when Dumo handed him a mug to wrap his frozen hands around before sitting across from him. “Back to business. Number one: the team already likes you, and you need no help from me getting their approval. Got it?”

Sirius nodded and took a sip.

“Number two: If you ever need my help, please don’t wait on the front porch in freezing weather when you could just knock.” A sheepish smile twitched at the side of his mouth and Dumo shook his head. “I won’t be responsible for your hypothermia. Now, what did you want advice about?”

Sirius let out a slow breath. “I don’t want to be the hardass captain that everyone hates. I just—this is an amazing opportunity, but honestly I just want my friends.”

Dumo hummed, even as his heart panged. “At the risk of sounding vague, the way to do that is to not be a hardass in the first place. Be a leader instead.”

“But I have to tell them what to do—”

“—and a leader does that the right way. There’s a difference between being a leader and being a tyrant. Push them to be better, but don’t be cruel about it. Set an example through the things you do, not the things you make other people do.” He touched the back of his hand gently and Sirius’ eyes flickered over. “Don’t lead through fear, but through respect.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s why you called me, non?” He waited until he saw the small smile return. “Alright, how would you approach a situation where one of your teammates is lagging behind in their speed trials?”

Sirius blinked. “Tell them to do better?”

Different tactic. “How did your coaches talk to you when you lagged behind in your speed trials?”

“…told me to do better.”

Orion Black, I will break your kneecaps the next time I see you. Dumo poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “That may have been a strategy for you, but for someone who is already trying their best, it could be very discouraging. They might resent you for trying to seem better than them.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed. “But I’m not.”

“I know. But they wouldn’t. In my opinion, the best course of action would be to ask what’s wrong, and how you can help. It might not get better overnight, but that teammate will trust that you can help them with their problem and will know that you care about them.”

“So I should just let them fail for a while?”

“You push them toward success gradually, and don’t berate them for any hiccups along the way. Failure can bring growth.”

His mouth set into a line of frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not explaining this right,” Dumo muttered, chewing the inside of his lip. How to explain to the new leader of your team what leadership is... “Let’s put it this way. You want Pots and Harzy to run a specific play, but they don’t understand it. How do you fix it?”

Sirius started to answer, then closed his mouth and thought for a moment, staring into the depths of his coffee. “I…I would walk them through it section by section, because I know they’re smart, but they might have problems with different parts.”

Dumo wondered if the room had actually become brighter, or if the pride in his heart was just shining through into the real world. “Exactly. And afterward, when they get it right?”

“High-five and run it again.”

“Now you’re getting it!” Something more difficult... “What if Kuny and Nado won’t shut up during Coach’s breakdown?”

“Tell them to be quiet.”

“But then Nado calls you a buzzkill and starts whispering to Kuny, and giving you looks.” Sirius’ whole face fell; if Dumo wasn’t so committed to making sure he got it right, he would’ve felt bad. “What do you do, Sirius?”

“Apolo—”

“No. People don’t respect those who apologize every time they face pushback.”

“But you said I need them to like me.”

“You need them to respect you. They don’t have to like you at all hours of the day.” He poked him lightly on the chest. “It’s your job to keep the team in line, now, and that means being a bit of a buzzkill sometimes. Not an asshole. Just a leader. What do you do if they start whispering about you?”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “Tell them to cut it out again,” he said grudgingly.

“And if they don’t?”

“Can I make them run laps after the meeting?”

“Yep. How many?”

“Three, because I had to ask three times.” He frowned. “And they should run at separate times, otherwise they’ll keep talking. God, they really don’t shut up, do they?”

That’s rich coming from you, Mr.-Chats-with-Pots-24/7. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself—that wasn’t what today was about. “Good job, Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Oui. If you lay down the rules early, you won’t have to keep correcting mistakes. They won’t want to disappoint you in the first place.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he said quietly.

“You won’t.” If there was one thing Dumo was sure of, it was that Sirius would be the best captain the Lions ever had. “Ready for the toughest part?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?” he asked again.

Sirius swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t like the way you’re captaining this team.”

From the look on his face, Dumo might as well have whacked him over the head with a spatula. “What?”

“I don’t think you have the guts.”

A combination of hurt and anger flashed in his eyes. “Hey!”

Dumo prodded him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to be able to stick up for yourself when it comes down to it. You can’t say no to your friends.”

“I can!”

“Then do it,” he challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re—” Sirius pressed his lips together and stood up. “Fuck you. I came to you for help—”

Dumo rose as well, leaning forward half an inch. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you can captain the shit out of this team.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Say it like you mean it!”

“You’re wrong!” Sirius repeated as his jaw set, louder. “I’m going to captain the shit out of this team and fuck you for thinking I can’t!”

“But I don’t like it!” Though they were both shouting at each other, Sirius’ defensiveness and timidity in the face of conflict were nowhere to be found.

“That’s not my problem!” His cheeks were turning pink again, but not from the cold. “I’m the captain, so you either listen to me or tell me what the hell your problem is!”

“There you go!” Dumo cheered, stepping around the table to crush him in a hug. “That was perfect.”

Sirius went still with befuddlement. “What?”

“You didn’t believe you could captain this team until just now, did you?” He stepped back and held Sirius’ shoulders, beaming. “You just did exactly what you were supposed to do. You cannot let yourself be pushed around if you want to lead and keep your friendships strong. I am so, so proud of you.”

Sirius stared at him in shock for a moment, then moved forward again and rested his chin on Dumo’s shoulder as he pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

“You are going to do great things, Sirius. I’m just glad I could help.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Dumo smiled and patted his back, giving him a squeeze. “Yes, you could. That’s how I know you will.”

#sirius black #pascal dumais #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #captain lessons #dumo

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