#he was so help avoidant and he showed attachment to inanimate objects

[bambiilooza]

octoweek day 2 - angst/fluff

did it with my human design cuz i wasn't strong enough to draw my goofy lil macaque upset :((

he's prolly just being dramatic guys. the octonauts didn't leave him or anything. they wouldn't do that (i tell myself after making up a scenario that the octonauts left him)

[owo--bot]

Loyal as a Dog // Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 24

wc: 2.1k

Tags: slowburn (the literal slowest), friends to lovers, coming of age, hurt & comfort, fluff, light and dark themes, plot heavy (REALLY plot heavy)

TW // cursing

Chapter Twenty-Four: Gods Grow Lonely

Gods grow lonely too. 

Looking down upon a lesser world

It doesn’t take a higher being to recognize 

Scum from scum. 

Pitiful beings,

Their existence only poses the question;

WHY? 

When born as dirt one should live as filth, so

WHY? 

Show thy misery, 

Expose thy hate, 

Remember thy name.

If insects don’t dance, what purpose do they serve?

Happiness is not yours to seek, so 

WHY?

It should be mine, so

WHY?

Why do they possess that which a God cannot grasp?

...oh.

I’ve studied worms and the ways they should crawl;

For a God it should be simple, 

All I need is dirt.

My pitiful creation, your world is me for I am all. 

Do not ask me 

WHY? 

You are to ask me 

HOW?

I’ve spent my life spectating so now I will teach. 

Watch me dance and remember;

It's you that's pitiful, 

Not me.

-

Today is a new day.

Therefore,

Yesterday never happened. 

Tongues stained blue, cloudless skies sung a certain song. A melody on loop, birds chirp of their travels above incoherent chatter. Background music of the word is tuned out as pain screams louder. A pain that's been denied recognition, for today is devoted only to good. 

Good meaning ice cream. 

Heat of Summer bullies spring while a convenience store curb houses the pair. Seeking refuge in the shade they replace memories that hurt with chilled flavors of berry. 

Mask pulled down, Sanzu's attention is equally divided between a new phone and ice cream while yours is balanced between ice cream and mourning.

"We're bad parents," you wept internally, looking at the replacement phone free of damages or dents. "My heart says it likes the old one better." 

"I don't see the issue, they're basically the same." 

Attachment to inanimate objects is an emotion your roommate uses sparingly. Brushing away your previous complaint, one hand tapped along a fresh set of keys while the other lazily maintained a half finished popsicle. 

"The ice cream's making ya cold Mr. Sanzu. What about all the memories that were jam packed in the old one?" emotionally driven, you expressed the extent of your disapproval, "to let go of them so easily is just-" 

Turning the screen towards you, Sanzu's cold temperature thawed out, displaying a picture of an automotive victim taken the night prior. Basically the same down to its pixelated memory.

"The SD card wasn't busted so," he paused, cutting that thought short. "Like I said they're basically the same."   

Possessed by the secret art of SD cards, the new phone houses an old soul. There’s peace in knowing it gets a second shot at life, hopefully this time it won’t die via poor pocket protocol. 

Relieved from mourning duty another problem takes its place. 

Pain that persists is starved of attention. 

With a throbbing debut, your wrist seizes the main stage. A lyrical hellfire leaves nothing but ashes, conveying a message to all competitors; the stage is gone, try talking over me and you’ll be next. Violent yet effective, any other problems dropped from the lineup leaving you to scramble for a fix.

Pain, pain, go away, you're way too busy eating ice cream today. 

Substitute jingles want to distract you but wish you’d called for help sooner for the stage is gone and anarchy cannot be undeclared. 

Fluent in evading and avoiding there comes a time when bearing it is all that remains. Fixing it had been first on the list but when aspirin fails what more is there to do? Easy;

Evade, 

Avoid, 

Ignore, 

Repeat.

Though if you skip ahead you’ll see we’re in the bear it arc. 

Reflexes told your wrist it could handle the weight of a minor fall. Looking at its current condition, not to mention how it felt, it’s fair to conclude your wrist loathes that prior assumption. Afterall, two wrists are better than one so now it’s time to bear the solo and swollen consequences. 

A presence finished messing around with the phone and started messing around with you. Leaning his arm against yours it seemed like he was trying to push you as you tilted along in the new game of; how much could he move you without actually moving you? 

Is he launching a curb-wide takeover? 

Hold your ground—

—or at a bare minimum don't tip over. 

Former popsicle reduced to nothing but a wooden stick, Sanzu shed mercy and pulled it away from his mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

Nothing gets past his all-seeing gaze.

Especially not prolonged silence.

“I did something weird to my wrist,” you answered.

"Did you sprain it?" Sanzu asked, gazing down at the sprain in question.

"Dunno, I'm a bad judge." 

You grinned, but as he lifted your wrist an immediate response ushered you to pull away.

Confiscating your wrist you cringed, "geez do ya hate me?" 

"It's that bad?" He asked, cocking his head slightly.

You nodded deeply several times before responding, “the worst.”

Sanzu initiated round two. Lifting your arm he shifted it this way and that but movement faltered as his eyes narrowed. Standing up from the curb he motioned: 

"We're going to the hospital." 

"Why? Ya can't fix it?" 

"No." 

"But ya always can." 

"I can't fix that." 

"You…can't? But we can't—right?"

"There's nothing else we can do." 

"Shit I really…" gritting your teeth, you hated the severity of this fuck up. "I'm sorry."

“It's fine. It was bound to happen eventually," he answered dismissively. 

Although you claimed to be sick proof, the same doesn’t apply in terms of injury proof. Cuts, scrapes, and bruises are a typical outcome of any given encounter but such is manageable with the aid of a do-it-yourself doctor. He's always been able to treat injuries, meaning this is; 

Bad. 

Hospitals exist to strip penniless pockets in exchange for a band-aid or two. Treatment is guise for what's really going on, it's a large scale con. A sucker like yourself has no medical knowledge therefore you're in for a scam amongst scams, not even the cockroaches are safe from their clinical clutches. 

Simultaneously walking and rehearsing, Sanzu offered a strict set of lines to follow when asked x, y and z. 

Bottom line:

Lie about everything except your wrist. 

A preemptive strike to scam the scammers. 

Though your feet feel cold within its presence.

Towering above, it could smell your fear. 

A place where life and death raged war. 

Did ghosts roam the halls? 

Who handled the corpses?

Would you see a dead body? 

Anxiety seeped from every pore. 

And the unknown looked forward to your arrival.

Some old kook patrolled the sidewalk, his rambling nature preyed on all who passed. Was this a test of initiation? 

If so, you walked right by. 

Better luck next time psycho man.

Abusing your roommate's hand you entered through automated doors, meeting the stench of death- or maybe that’s disinfectant. 

They’re covering up death with disinfectant. 

Despite an overwhelming number of heads occupying the lobby, each of them must've harbored a similar fear because the silence is nauseating;

Fill it with something,

Elevator music,

The news,

Anything, just hurry up and eat the silence. 

Death's lackey greets you from behind the front desk, disguised as a woman who offers a smile. Allowing Sanzu to do any and all talking, you offered moral support by binding your souls as one. 

To smother is to cope—

—at least it is from your perspective.

For the time being it seems you have a pass.

Sanzu ignores the clingy creature while feeding death's receptionist lie after lie. He offers a name you've never heard and an address you've never been and sure enough-

“Perfect, I have all your information right here,” clicking around on a computer, death’s receptionist is cheerfully duped. “So you think it's broken?” she asked. 

A nod from your roommate leaves you at a loss. 

Broken. 

To break something takes a great deal of pressure, for example when a scum-jerk, prostitute-loving, politician wakes up mid mugged and decides to reimburse your nose with force. Therefore a minor fall poses no threat to these peak bones.

“Can you put pressure on it?” Death’s receptionist asked.

Too mortified for words, a nudge from your roommate tells you to answer. 

“No.”

Nervous eyes look at Sanzu to see if that was the right answer, but no such approval or disapproval is given as the sound of typing responds instead.

“You can take a seat for now. Someone will be with you shortly.” 

Turning away from the counter a void of noise settles in once more, blank faces of captives beckon you to join their seated ranks. 

"I don't wanna be here," you mumbled.

"And? Does it look like anyone wants to be here?" Sanzu replied.

Blue eyes flickered with vague irritation, meaning any second he'd reclaim his space and set you free,

If only to be devoured.

Or not.

Eviction notice postponed, calloused fingers simply pull you and your vice grip along. 

Sitting down amongst a lobby of fellow captives you felt your lifeline shorten. A mental vault of D-rated horror movies contorted to spew toxins. Days in which scary movies held no weight are dead;

They're heavy enough to crush you.

“What if they harvest my organs?” you blurted out.

Attracting empty stares from your fellow captives, you felt stiff beneath fluorescent lights. 

“Hm? I thought you knew.” 

Blue eyes looked distinctly amused beneath heavy lids, twisting together a backwards solution.

“...knew what?"

“They already met their organ quota this month.” 

“So I’m safe?” 

“Mhm.”

“What about ghosts?” 

"Priests come by regularly." 

"What if there's a zombie outbreak?" 

"They already have a cure." 

"What if the doctors are cannibals?" 

A timely game of question asked question answered later, relief is yours. Out of all the hospitals, this one in particular was horror proof. 

Safe from within the hospital of no horrors, you’d been summoned and forced to play question asked question answered medical edition. 

Hospital memory bank updated. 

Their time operates differently, how they slowed it down will stay a mystery. 

Half the terms they used were made up on the spot, the end.

Nothing is sacred, they saw your bones and have photo evidence.  

Don't get lost or you won't be found (not tested).

They only deliver the crappiest, shitiest, screw off-iest, no seriously screw off—form of news  

As always Sanzu was right. 

It's broken. 

Therefore your bones aren't peak, but are embarrassingly easy to break chumps. Though Mr. Doctor said otherwise, your two-bone track record states you should search for a donor with better suited bones. 

Shamefully supported within the confines of a splint, your wrist would hide its face for another six weeks. Mr. Doctor also said it's lucky you didn't need a cast but it seems Mr. Doctor doesn't have the faintest clue about what luck entails. Here's a hint: 

It's receiving medical treatment under someone else's name, having the bill sent to said person's home and then strolling out of death's doors with your soul still intact. 

"My bones are sorta the worst so how about ya trade me yours? Then I won't be completely useless," you gleamed. 

Starry eyed and scary, a harsh contradiction of words and tone work as a last ditch coping mechanism from hell. Far more inconvenient than breaking a nose, a wrist plays a vital role in daily life. It's so horrendously bad it's comical because if it weren't you'd be sobbing. 

"I'll pass. A careless owner would end up breaking them," Sanzu taunted. 

"Ya'know If I did that I'd have to live out the rest of my life in shame and solitude. Meaning they'd be way safe—no, the safest." 

A route consisting of following your roommate showed a questionable future. Primarily because you hadn't even made it to the street before new problems were made readily available. 

Skeletal fingers gripped your shoulder revealing who else but some old kook in robes, looking to be ten seconds from death—

"All can be forgiven so tell me-" 

...

—Five seconds from death. 

Shoved to the ground, a pile of bones is momentarily out of commission while condescending eyes spare no pity, urging you to keep walking. It only takes a glance to lose interest, for the elderly are a breed of unworthy donors.

Avoided upon entering, encountered upon exiting and laid out upon leaving, people like him all look the same. Black intentions dressed in robes, religious creeps who prey on the weak. 

Mumbling against the pavement he's delusional and determined, helping you to remember outside isn't horror proof while leaving the hospital behind.  

"Everyone is dirty, we only wish to help." 

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Green-Eyed Monster

This is a sequel to Water Seeks Its Own Level, although you probably don’t have to read that one for this one to make sense. It’s set a few months after the events of that story. I originally intended to write for someone new but I am just totally smitten with Eddie. He called me back to him. 

Pairing: Eddie Kingston x OFC

Word count: 3,836

Content advisory: a healthy dose of smut and cursing

“Son of a bitch!” You jerk your hand back, wincing in pain and you smack the side of the toaster oven, as if it’s the appliance’s fault you haven’t yet figured out that food coming out of the oven is hot. To make things worse, you actually feel a little guilty for taking your anger out on the inanimate object. You’re in a bad mood. The toaster oven is just the latest thing to make your day worse. 

You run some cold water on your hand before you go back for another attempt at removing the leftover pizza slice that you don’t even want but you figure you should eat something because you’ve poured a couple of beer down your gullet and if you don’t eat something, you’re going to get a headache. 

So you gnaw joylessly at your pizza slice, trying not to notice that reheating it has not made it taste fresher than the three days it’s been in your refrigerator. None of this would have happened, of course, if you’d just gone out with the rest of the crew like you’d assumed you would. There was a Korean barbecue place that a few of the AEW gang had heard good things about and finally someone had taken it upon themselves to get a side room reserved so that you could all go together and have a good time. You’d been looking forward to it. 

But earlier in the day, you’d found out that the group that was going included Eddie, along with his new so-called family: the Butcher, the Blade, and the Bunny, also known as Andy, Braxton, and Allie. It shouldn’t have bothered you. They’d known each other a long time. You knew them all well. They’d all been bugging you to come along whenever they were going out together, or at least they had until recently. 

As things too often did for you, it came down to Eddie. After he’d shown up in AEW, the two of you had rekindled the fuck-buddy thing you’d had going when you were both on the indies. The problem was that now you weren’t just hooking up when you happened to be on the same tour or show: you were together every week, living in the same city, working the same schedule. So your casual, no-strings-attached thing had become a very frequent thing. It had become a leaving stuff in each other’s apartments thing. It had become a casual understanding of at least one night of the weekend together thing. 

What it hadn’t become was a relationship, at least not in the articulated, public, monogamous sense. You didn’t have anyone else in your life. You didn’t want anyone else in your life. You’d spent years telling yourself that Eddie was just someone you could go to for a good time in the sack, and even though you were aware that he always stirred up feelings in you that went beyond a fallback booty call, you kept telling yourself that was all it was. 

Now that the two of you were actually stable in terms of work and living space, though, you’d started to wonder if maybe you did want things to be a bit more stable with Eddie as well. Although you’d never discussed your status, you didn’t have anyone else in your life and you didn’t want anyone else in your life. Even though you were surrounded by beautiful people at work, people who had their shit far more together than Eddie Kingston ever would, it was like they didn’t really exist. You didn’t say that to him because you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself. If it was going to happen, it would come out naturally, by which you meant that he’d have to get around to bringing it up. 

Things had been fine until recently, until Eddie had taken it upon himself to reunite Braxton with his estranged wife Allie, the Bunny, so that they could have each other’s backs. At least, that’s what he said he was doing. But it actually seemed that Allie was spending most of her time with Eddie. He was the one on television calling her “the beautiful Bunny” and taking credit for wooing her back to the fold. He convinced her to join them. He was the one she seemed loyal to. Even backstage, when the four of them were around each other, Allie always seemed to be hanging off Eddie’s arm, laughing extra loudly at his jokes, and insisting that he come along wherever she was going. It made your blood boil. 

You didn’t say anything because it wasn’t like you had reason to think that Eddie wasn’t going to have anyone else in his life. And you were even sure if he did, because cuckolding his friend right in front of his face would be bold even for him. You’d gone out with the group of them a couple of times but you’d felt nauseous from jealousy, watching him talk about how great it was that they were all working together again. 

So you’d ended up begging off and just spending time with Eddie when you could be alone. More recently, you’d just started avoiding him because thinking that he was leaving your bed to have a quick shower and then run off to another woman had you crying your eyes out on several occasions. You never said anything, you just stopped returning his texts and stayed clear of him at work. And after a while, he’d stopped messaging and trying to talk to you. Things were over. 

You throw the remainder of the pizza in the garbage. Thinking about everything that’s happened in this weird, hopeless thing with him makes you feel rejected and miserable all over again. You miss him. A lot. But now it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything more with you, that he wants to keep things open, and you know you can’t deal with that. 

The doorbell cuts through the fog of frustration and self-pity, startling you so much that you give a little yelp. You old place had one of those systems when the bell was hooked up to your phone but this one had a buzzer that sounded like an aircraft engine and you didn’t feel like you were ever going to get used to it. 

“Hello?” You mumble, hoping that it isn’t another homeless person looking to sleep in the hallway downstairs. 

“It’s me, can I come up?”

He doesn’t even have to say his name because you’d know that almost cartoonish accent anywhere. It figures that he’d just show up unannounced after eleven, like nothing had been weird between you. Maybe for him, things hadn’t been weird at all. 

“Yeah, sure.” You press the release to open the front door and wait, pacing a little and trying to stay calm until you hear a knock on your door. 

And when you open it, there’s Eddie, his face and jacket sprinkled with rain, sporting a fresh-looking bruise on his left eye that he turns to try to hide it. 

“We haven’t hung out in a while,” he grunts, his eyes a little suspicious and resentful. 

“True. Guess we’ve both been busy.”

You motion for him to come inside, quietly pleased that he remembers to take his boots off. You reach over to take his jacket so that you can hang it up and he looks almost offended. 

“I know where it goes,” he snaps, opening the closet and putting it on a hanger himself. 

You grip his jaw and turn his face so that you can get a better look at the damaged eye. 

“What happened?”

He steps back, pouting like a child who’s been caught doing something he knows he isn’t supposed to. 

“We went out to a bar after the restaurant. Archer offered to buy me a drink, and I said I wanted to buy him a drink. I guess it got out of hand.”

“Two friends try to buy a round at the bar turns into a fistfight. That is so you.” 

You can’t help but laugh at your own joke because it is such an Eddie thing but he doesn’t seem amused. 

“You got something I can put on this?” He grumbles. 

“I have a couple of ice packs in the freezer. Come on.”

He follows you over to the open kitchen with its little breakfast counter while you start lifting frozen entrees out of the way to find the artificial ice. 

“So how come you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I don’t know,” you lie. “My stomach was a bit upset and I probably wouldn’t have been much fun.”

He gives a low cackle. “You just don’t like it when you can’t have me all to yourself.”

You pause from digging through the back of the freezer to shoot him a scornful look. 

“You just want me there so you can have a larger audience,” you retort, standing and producing the ice pack. 

“Who said I wanted you there?”

You slap the cold pack into his cheek, giving a cruel little smile when he winces at the impact. 

“Thank god you never decided to become a nurse,” he growls. 

You can feel his eyes digging into you, searching for an opening. He knows all your fault lines so well, but he knows that there’s something going on with you that he hasn’t seen before. Your body twists under his scrutiny, trying to make it less obvious that you’re avoiding meeting his gaze. 

“So what’s up with you anyway?” he asks, still studying you too closely for comfort.

“Not much. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine with me.”

“What?” You finally look back at him, eyes wide with fake surprise. “Did I say something that made you think I was pissed at you? Did I do something to get you pissed off?”

“Come on. You know what I mean. You barely talk to me at work, you never go out if you think I’m gonna be there. You won’t answer when I message you, or it’s two words long like I’m annoying you. I thought things were going ok with us for once.”

“They were. They are,” you counter desperately. 

He places the ice pack on the counter and arches his brows at you. When you reach to remove it, he grabs your wrist and pulls you between his body and the counter, shaking his head as he presses it hard against yours. 

His hands graze down to your hips and under your shorts, gripping both of your ass cheeks hard and you feel yourself melt against him, as you always do. You incline your head forward until your lips are against his, your arms winding around his neck, and you let yourself fall into the kiss you’d told yourself you were going to avoid. Everything that Eddie does with that mouth of his is magic and every second you spend locked in that embrace, you get drawn further in. 

“I missed this,” he growls softly, giving a hard squeeze for emphasis.

It’s almost painful to pull yourself back from what you want so much but if you don’t extricate yourself now, you’ll be going crazy over him forever, so you force yourself to do it. 

You try to pivot a little but he has you locked in place. 

“Please, just let me put the cold pack back in the fridge.”

“No,” he whispers, giving you an evil little smile before nipping at the skin of your neck. “That’s gonna stay right there and melt and make a mess until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“That’s not fair!” You whine, trying fruitlessly to reach back so you can at least throw the stupid in thing in the sink. 

“Kinda seems like the Princess has decided she’s too good for me again.”

His lips lock onto the base of your throat and you main loudly. He’s doing it on purpose, tweaking your sensitive spots with his caresses and his words. 

“You know that’s not true, Eddie.”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you were afraid someone might find out that I was your dirty little secret.”

“It’s not that, I don’t give a fuck who knows.”

That draws a guttural laugh from him and the sound makes your stomach flip. You don’t offer any resistance when he eases your tank top over your head and trails kisses down the center of your chest. 

“So tell me,” he insists, twisting a nipple hard between his fingers, “why I haven’t been getting any of this.”

“Why does it have to be something wrong with me? You’re the one with your new faction or family or whatever, making all sorts of plans and wooing Allie to join you.”

He lifts his head and as soon as you see the smirk on his face, you know you’re done for. 

“Wooing Allie?”

“I don’t know what you call it. You got her to ditch what she was doing and go back with you guys.”

“I call it talking to my friend’s wife and making her work things out with him. That’s not what most people would call ‘wooing’, princess.”

“Whatever, I just meant that you’ve been busy so maybe I’m the one who should feel neglected.”

You fold your arms in front of your chest because the only thing worse than trying to salvage your stupid comment is trying to do it half naked while he gives you that amused look. 

“I don’t believe it. You’re fucking jealous.”

“No,” you whine. 

“Oh yes you are. You think there’s something going on with me and Allie.”

“I guess it seems like you have a bit of a thing for her, at least. You’re always talking about how beautiful she is and all that.”

“Princess, has anyone explained to you that not everything you see in wrestling is real?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just said that you’d been busy and-“

He kisses you again, little ripples of laughter coming out as he does. You return the kiss, diving in and hoping that you can just shut him up and make him forget what you’ve said, and to shut yourself up before you say anything worse. 

“I like this,” he chuckles. “You’re jealous because you think I’m hot for someone else.”

“Fuck off, I never said that.”

The two of you continue kissing, more passionately and hungrier than before, but the next time he pulls back to catch his breath, he goes back to his new favourite subject. 

“I am never letting you live this one down.”

“You can leave any time, you smug asshole.”

He chuckles again, his hand sliding under your clothes, between your legs. He buries his face against you, his lips pressed against your ear as he drags one finger, ever so lightly, from the back of your slit all the way up to your throbbing little nub, repeating the gesture and using his hip to hold you still and stop you from thrusting against him to get more friction. He just keeps up with that ghost of a touch, humming with pleasure the more he can feel your frustration. 

“You want me to go? Really? Because it feels like maybe you’re not so sure.”

You just whimper in need, while at the same time trying to force the desire you’re feeling out of your body. 

He lightly strokes and taps at your clit as he whispers to you, “I like that you’re jealous. But you need to tell me these things, not deprive both of us, ya silly brat.”

His attention then shifts, two thick fingers swirling at your entrance while the two of you bite and lick at each other. You hold out as long as you can, which isn’t long at all, before begging. 

“Don’t do that. Stop teasing.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” he rasps, grinning as you thrust against him, trying to force some more pressure. 

“Fuck me. Stop talking and fuck me through the mattress and into the goddamned floor.”

He lifts you up by your thighs, smiling when you wrap your arms around him to secure yourself as he carries you to your bed. As he places you down, he removes the rest of your clothing in one smooth movement before discarding his own. You kiss playfully for a moment before you tap his thigh. 

“Get up here,” you order. 

And he is most happy to oblige, kneeling over your body and letting you take his thick cock in hand, easing the swollen tip past your lips, sucking and licking while you slowly move your hand along his shaft, occasionally letting your thumb flick delicately along the seam, relishing the yelps this gesture never fails to elicit from him.  

“So you want that even if I’ve been giving it to another woman?”

You growl but the vibrations only increase his pleasure and he starts to thrust a little, pushing himself further into your mouth and throat. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” he purrs, “I’ll always have some use for you.”

At that, you punch him hard in the hip and rake your nails down his ass. He eases down your body, sparkling, mischievous eyes meeting yours. It’s like there’s nothing else in the whole world for you but you know better than to say so. 

“You know what you need to do, Kingston? You need to shut the fuck up.” You push on his shoulders to direct him where you want him to go, and while he takes his time getting there, the journey involves him working his way down your body, like he’s worshipping you. 

“This what you want?” he asks, licking at your soaked flesh. 

“Mm-hmm.” You squirm in anticipation, suspecting that he might try to draw this out longer, so when he dives in and starts fucking you with his tongue, lips and teeth, you let out a loud moan and clench at the bedsheet with both fists. You’re already so close.”

“Lucky for you I have such good stamina,” he hisses. “So I can handle all of these women I’m fucking.”

“You’re still talking,” you groan. “Why are you still talking?”

He gives a harsh bite on the inside of your thigh. “Look at me.”

You glare down at him but immediately feel a little unnerved by the deadly serious look in his eyes. 

“You know damn well there aren’t any other women. I haven’t fucked another woman, haven’t kissed- hell I haven’t even beat off thinking about another woman in months. So let me enjoy this for a few hours until you go back to thinking you’re too good for me.”

With that he goes right back at it, letting you feel the full skill of that constantly moving mouth. You let yourself go, feeling for the first time in ages like you have exactly what you want, what you need, right here in your bed doing everything to make you happy. Your whole body trembles in ecstasy, the tide rising steadily within you, your whines and moans growing ever louder. 

“I love you.”

It slips out so naturally that you almost don’t notice that you’ve said it until he pulls back. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Get back down there!” You push his head but he shakes you off and now you’re aware you have a problem. 

“Oh no, I want you to repeat what you just said.”

“I don’t remember,” you whine. 

“Sure you do.” He moves to his side next to you, running his fingers over your skin so that you stay worked up, frustrated, and desperate. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“No,” he scolds, “that wasn’t what you said.”

You exhale in exasperation. 

“Let me get you started. You said ‘I’... come on, repeat after me.”

“What makes you think I even meant it?”

“Well you have to tell me whether you did or not, don’t you, princess?”

His finger traces a curved line between your hip bones that only accentuates your overwhelming, unmet need. 

“I’m not hearing anything,” he coos, flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

“Fine!” you roar, hitting your breaking point. “I said that I love you, and yeah, I meant it.”

Grinning, he moves back down your body. 

“Now was that so hard?” he asks just as he buries his face between your legs again. 

You’d love to give a sharp retort but the second he’s giving you what you want, every other thought leaves your mind. You are one pulsating nerve waiting for release and he is expertly guiding you there. Within minutes you’re screaming his name, tears leaking from your eyes as you come down from the best orgasm you think you’ve ever had. 

By the time you can open your eyes, he’s hovering over you, the tip of his cock throbbing against the lips of your pussy. 

“Say it again.”

You groan a little and push against him but it doesn’t work. 

“Say it again and look at me this time.”

His incredible eyes bear down on you and it’s very different than before. This time, you can’t hide the truth of it behind sarcasm and annoyance. This time he can see into you. You’re vulnerable. 

“Come on.” He prods at your face with his nose and lips before once again locking you with that killer stare. “Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” you stammer, trying to read his reaction and more than a little afraid of what that might be. 

He moans a little and pushes himself part way inside you, rocking his hips slowly. 

“Again,” he rasps. 

“Don’t be like this. I said it. I said it twice. What the hell do you want?”

He grabs a handful of your hair and thrusts his face even closer to yours. “Five years. Five fucking years I’ve been waiting for you to come around. So I want to get the most out of this that I can.”

“Eddie Kingston, I love you.”

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and thrusts into you harder. 

“Are you going to say it back?” 

“Sure,” he laughs. “When I feel like it.”

He pounds into you with increased vigor, laughing more when he sees your face contort somewhere between fury and ecstasy, your pussy contracting involuntarily around him. 

“You are such a bastard,” you yell, fighting the second orgasm that’s about to overtake you. 

The phrase is barely past your lips when your whole body spasms, pulling him right along with you. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he pants after a couple of minutes. “I am a bastard. But you finally managed to figure out I’m the bastard you want.”

You can’t help but laugh, wondering if he really did know ages before you did that you were in love with him, or if he was just hopeful. You run your hands over the back of his head and pull on his earlobe a little with your teeth. 

“God help me,” you whisper.

[kafka-ish]

stanley’s sister has got it going on | r.t.

richie’s got a crush and he’s got it bad. the only thing that’s keeping him from the girl he’s been chasing is his best friend—her brother.

word count: 4,665

warnings/included: nsfw (not explicit), fluff, swearing, fem!reader

a/n: as i was rereading this i realized that this is the dirtiest thing i’ve ever written??? (so far). in comparison to other works it’s probably vv vanilla so pls bear with me

-

In the defense of Richie Tozier, it wasn’t his fault he ended up catching feelings for Stanley Uris’s little sister. There were a lot of things he couldn’t control. Like when his mouth opened and out came a poorly done impression of his chemistry teacher. (Which just so happened to have been done as Mr. Ford was standing behind the boy). 

Richie may as well just start a list of things he can’t help, marking y/n Uris down as number thirty-three. 

“Hey, Richie!” Well, well, well, if it wasn’t the person Richie had been most desperately trying to avoid. “Are you going to Stan’s tonight?” y/n asked. She was standing outside of his car door while he was in the driver’s seat, flicking through the radio stations, trying to find a good song for the ride home. 

Upon hearing the voice, Richie stopped fidgeting with the knob. It was honestly hopeless trying to find a good song at this point. None of the good stuff comes on until later. He turned his head to meet eyes with the accompanying voice from outside his car.

Bad idea. 

Of course, y/n chose to wear a tank top and the shortest skirt possible that day. Hell, any day he’d find his thoughts lost in her. Whether she was wearing a bikini at the quarry or in an oversized t-shirt and checkered pajama pants. 

“Earth to Richie?” y/n laughed. She waved her hand in front of his face, trying to capture his attention. Little did she know, that wasn’t necessary. 

“Actually, I was thinking about being a no-show today. I’ve been neglecting my training.” 

“Oh! You train? Which gym?” She was grinning wide and her gaze burned a hole through his heart. 

“The arcade. I gotta keep my skills fresh if I ever wanna keep that high score.” y/n rolled her eyes, but his comment still made her laugh. 

“Well, can you take me home? Once you drop me off I promise you can have all the time in the world to work on your skills.” Emphasis on ‘skills’. 

“Promise, eh?” Richie repeated, giving the girl a hard time. “Did Stan forget how to drive?” 

“No…” The ‘o’ part was drawn out. “He has his bird watching club today and I don’t feel like sitting in the sun for an hour while I wait for him.” 

Richie smiled to himself, thinking for a moment. On one hand, he shouldn’t be alone with the sister of one of his best friends’, as he had different intentions. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave his best friend’s sister hanging like that. In hindsight, he had come to the conclusion that there was a possibility of Stan getting mad at him either way. 

Taking Stan’s sister home it was. 

“What are you waiting for, y/n/n, get in.” Richie finally made his decision. 

y/n cheered happily, thanking him, as she rounded his car and opened the door to the passenger’s seat. 

“You have no idea how happy this makes me!” y/n smiled, her expression reaching ear to ear. 

“Oh yeah. I bet you’re over the moon about getting a ride from your brother’s best friend in some beat up chevy.” Richie tried his best to distance himself. He really did. But he couldn’t help but notice y/n’s figure in the tight-fitting clothes, especially when she sat in such a close proximity to him. 

“I don’t think you get it, Tozier.” y/n hummed as she started turning the knob on the dash, finally settling on some rock station. She lowered the volume so they could still talk without yelling over the atmosphere. “We never hang out.” 

“We’re hangin’ out right now,” Richie argued, daring to look away from the road for one millisecond just so he could steal a glance at her. 

“Yeah, but… You hang out with Bill, Eddie, and Stan, and stuff.” She sounded disappointed. 

“I guess it’s different with them.” Richie shrugged. It was different with them. Bill, Eddie, Stan, Ben, and Beverly even, had their group together. They had the same classes together. They faced off a killer clown together. 

“I get that you guys have your own friend group and stuff.” y/n said quickly, not wanting to sound lonely or weird from her previous statement. “But we’re friends. Aren’t we?” She said this with an unsureness in her voice that Richie didn’t know how to reply to. 

I should’ve just left her at school. What’s so bad about waiting in the sun while Stan’s off watching some stupid birds? I guess it is kind of hot out. But a little heat won’t hurt anyone, right? Besides, she’s wearing a tank top. 

Richie peered over at y/n who was looking out the window as her head leaned against it. 

A white, lacy tank top that makes her skin look even more—

“Richie?” Concern washed over the girl’s eyes. Her attention turned to him instead of the scenery that passed by them. 

Richie whipped his head away from her body and stared blankly at the road. It was almost as if he were a ghost. Except he actually had color in his face. 

“What is it, y/n/n?” Richie’s eyes were still on the road. 

“I asked if we were friends.” The girl giggled, not being able to take anything seriously for longer than five minutes. “But that’s a stupid question.” She looked down and began to pick at her nails. 

“Of course we’re friends.” Richie insisted. The only problem is that I want more and your brother would kill me. 

Something inside of y/n calmed at the affirmation. “So we should hang out.”

“Already told ya, y/n/n. I got a date with destiny today.” 

“I don’t mind being the third wheel.” 

To be frank, that was the last thing Richie needed. It was bad enough that middle schoolers would wait lined up behind him, watching as he lost at some silly arcade game that he still had a passion for. He didn’t need some hot girl hanging over his shoulder while he did so, too. But Richie’s mouth had betrayed his thoughts. 

“Only if you want to, y/n/n.” He had avoided trying to call y/n anything other than her name or her nickname. He wouldn’t allow himself to call her any of the cutesy trademark pet names he’d call other girls that he would shamelessly flirt with for fun. He started implementing this tactic in sophomore year once he really started to notice her. 

At first, it was the way she greeted him every time the losers met up at Stan’s house. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore she gave him special attention: always running up towards him when she saw him, her lingering by his side before Stan yelled at her, asking if she had anything better to do. Her smile was seemingly wider and her eyes brighter whenever she held conversations with him compared to the other losers—or maybe that was just Richie looking into things too much. 

Due to drama and false rumors, y/n had started hanging out with the losers more this year. It was an attempt for her to take her mind off of the absence of friends on her part. None of the losers seemed to mind, even Stan. Thus, she became a regular when the group went on swimming trips to the quarry or slept over at each other’s houses. This didn’t really help Richie’s case. Now, he was basically forced to see her figure in a swimsuit and in every other setting imaginable. Not to mention, he couldn’t do anything about it either. 

The two had finally arrived at the arcade. Richie had managed to snag the closest parking spot to the entryway and y/n relentlessly made fun of how he never parked straight until they got in the door.

“Okay, kid. Once you get your license, you can criticize my ‘bad’ parking. But for now, since you’re hitching rides for free, I say you better just keep quiet for now.” 

“But you’re so over the lines! I can’t imagine your coloring if that’s how you park.” 

“I’ll have you know, y/n, I don’t color. For one, that shit’s for babies. And I am way past that preschool shit. And second of all, coloring’s way lame.” Richie had made his way over to the Street Fighter machine and inserted a quarter in the slot. 

y/n watched him thoughtfully for awhile as he fidgeted with the joystick and jammed the buttons. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” she asked, growing bored of watching the same repetitive visuals from over his shoulder. But she didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him. 

“Hold on.” His hand smashed against the buttons in rapid fire movements while he simultaneously maneuvered the joystick. A few seconds after, the game played a pitiful noise and the boy let out a groan. Richie had lost. 

“That’s a weird way of saying coke.” y/n hummed before skipping off to the lounge area. 

On her way back, she saw Richie’s face contort in frustration. Once again, he had lost to the game. 

“Cheer up, buttercup!” y/n passed handed him the glass bottle and Richie had finally stepped away from the Street Fighter machine. 

“Easy for you to say. You don’t got an inanimate object beating ya four to one.” Richie pretended to wipe the nonexistent sweat off his brow and looked down to y/n, offering her a smug look. 

“Would a kiss make you feel better?” The girl leaned closer to him and got up on her tippy toes, preparing to peck him on his cheek. 

This was the first of y/n showing any sign of real interest. And while Richie wanted to bask in the glory of his long time crush finally coming around, his thoughts also drew to Stan. What kind of friend would he be if he made a move on his friend’s little sister? Technically she’s the one making the moves- 

Cut it out, Rich!

His internal monologue argued for a while before he realized y/n’s lips were attached to his face. 

“W-what are you doing?” Richie belatedly snapped out of his thoughts and came to his senses. 

y/n pulled away. Her arms crossed tightly around her chest and her posture was now slightly hunched over. Oh. 

“I thought I could make you feel better.” She mumbled. When she eventually spoke, she let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in. “Can you take me home?” She asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. 

“Of course.” The two started heading for the door and Richie tried to slow his pace so that his long legs would be in sync with hers. “To be honest, y/n/n, I was kinda getting tired of this ol’ dump anyways.” 

A small smile graced y/n’s lips as he talked. Even if she was still embarrassed from the previous events. 

“You’re not gonna be a professional video game player?” 

“Oh no. That dream’s been abandoned for a long time now.” Richie quipped back. He was turning the keys into the ignition and began to drive off. 

The car ride to Stan’s place was silent. Either because of the turn that had taken place earlier at the arcade, or because Richie didn’t wanna open his big mouth and accidentally slip up; ruining his relationship with both Stan the Man and Stan the Man’s hot sister. 

Richie’s old chevy slowly came to a stop at the front of Stan’s house. The sky was cloudless and an unnerving shade of blue today, highlighting how perfectly trim and green Uris’s lawn was. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” y/n finally spoke up. Her voice foreign to Richie’s ears after the fifteen minutes of dead air from the two of them. But it wasn’t that foreign. Her voice echoed through his brain practically everyday. Whenever classes got boring or nights seemed endless, Richie found himself either replaying past conversations between them. Or other scenarios… She was an unhealthy addiction he couldn’t quit. Like smoking, only hotter and way more deadly. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Richie faced y/n, putting on his best ‘I’m-not-interested-in-you’ face, when he really felt quite the opposite.

“Richie, I feel like you don’t like me.” Her accusation was dead wrong, but there was hurt in her eyes. Somehow, Richie had managed to convince the girl of his dreams he hates her when that couldn’t be less true. 

“I don’t.” He forced a chuckle to ease the tension but y/n wasn’t having it. 

“Can I tell you something?” y/n asked. Richie nodded, a quizzical look on his face. Before continuing, y/n swallowed. She didn’t usually get nervous, but Richie was someone to get nervous over. “I like you.” 

Her words felt like something out of a dream Richie once had before. 

“What can I say, kid. It’s impossible not to.” Of course, y/n didn’t really like him. At least, not like that. She was probably just saying this for shits and giggles. Pulling his leg. A classic Richie stunt. 

“I mean, I like you like how Ben likes Beverly.” 

Richie’s eyes then widened at the declaration and his body stiffened. 

“It’s okay if you don’t like me back,” she said with such ease that Richie admired. She shrugged and the thin strap of her tank top fell down her shoulder. Richie couldn’t help but notice, his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t. 

“Listen—” He gulped. His eyes kept trailing down no matter how hard he tried not to. “Listen,” he repeated, now meeting her big eyes, “I don’t not like you, y/n/n. In fact the funny thing is… is—” his words got caught in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Not with Stan’s breathing always down his back (whether Stan was actually there or not).  

“What’s so funny, Rich?” Her soft, sweet voice filled his ears once again. It was like a spell, because suddenly (and conveniently), the thought of Stan was no longer in the back of Richie’s mind. 

“I like you too, kid.” His voice was low, but y/n still heard him.

“So what’s stopping this?” A sly smirk formed on y/n’s face. She climbed over the control panel and her already short skirt rode up to be even higher. 

y/n sat herself on Richie’s lap. The boy had to keep from pinching himself. What was happening was straight out of a wet dream of his he’d probably had last night. 

The girl on his lap was toying with a strand of his hair while looking into his eyes. Her shoulder was still bare from the strap that fell off it.

“I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Richie didn’t think he could help himself any longer with the sultry way she was speaking and the fact that she was on his lap. “Now I can do this.” 

y/n placed a tender kiss to the awestruck boy’s lips. It was slow and steady. She didn’t want to mess things up since they had just admitted their feelings to one another. 

But Richie was impatient. 

As soon as she pulled away, he connected his lips to hers again. He was sloppy and fast paced with his movements, yet still full of passion. 

y/n giggled into his mouth which caused Richie’s heart to skip a beat. She’d been waiting for this moment since she first laid eyes on him. 

The first time Richie stepped foot into the Uris household, y/n had greeted him excitedly. 

“y/n could you get that!” Stan shouted to her from their den. He was busy setting up board games, making sure every last piece was in its designated place. 

“Why do I have to?” y/n grumbled, still walking out of her room so she could get to the door anyway. “You were closer.” 

“I’m preparing for game night. This is the first time my friends are coming over and I want everything to be suitable.” Stan was polishing the game pieces now. 

“I don’t think your friends will mind if one of your little thing-a-ma-bobs is out of place.” y/n jokingly tipped over one of the players to Stanley’s game that he had already put into place but she quickly put it back upon noticing the discontent that marked his face as she did so. 

“I’ll mind.” Her brother replied calmly. 

Another knock at the door. 

“Can you please get that?” 

y/n got up and walked over to the door. She was first met with a lanky boy whose legs were too long for his torso and eyes were too big for his face. 

She didn’t expect Stan’s friends to be hot. 

“Hi!” y/n exclaimed, hoping to give off a good impression on the group.

“I didn’t know Stan had an underaged maid. I guess the Uris’ will do anything for labor work.” No one laughed at Richies joke. 

“That’s Stan’s sister, dipwad,” Eddie said, disgusted at his friend. 

Richie made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth and the group shuffled in, meeting Stan in the den. 

“Stan you never told me you had a hottie for a sister.” y/n could hear Richie’s voice from across the hall. Her intestines turned into butterflies and she could pass for a canary with how red her face had gotten. 

But despite having the hugest crush on Richie, y/n never shared any classes with the boy. She was a year younger than Stan, but in the same grade as him because of the accelerated classes she took. So y/n had to admire from afar. 

Well, not anymore. 

Her lips were now attached to his neck, eliciting a moan from him. She smirked at that and started to roll her hips against his. Her name fell from his lips over and over and over again which evoked her to keep going. 

“Richie!?” An angered voice called from the outside of his car. 

It was the one and only. Stanley Uris. 

It was too late to act fast. Richie pulled y/n off him and looked guiltily out the window to see the face that matched the voice. 

But Richie already knew who it was. 

“Who me? I dink you ghat de wrahng goey.” Richie did his best Irish man accent but it was no use. 

“Okay, Richie, cut the crap.” Stan’s face was twisted up in an expression that almost scared Richie. His hands were folded against his chest and he was waiting for an answer. 

Richie simply couldn’t bring himself to answer the boy. He sat in shame with y/n next to him staring at her brother. Richie may as well have had ‘I’M SORRY’ written on his forehead with the way he was gaping at Stan.  

“y/n get out of the car.” Stan said, breaking eye contact with his friend. 

The girl complied, whispering about how sorry she was to the boy who drove her home before getting out. After that, she didn’t dare glance back at him in his car and Richie didn’t have the energy to even look anywhere besides the steering wheel. 

That was last week. Since then, Stan and Richie hadn’t said a word to each other. Richie hadn’t spoken to y/n since then either. The tension was too thick between Stan and Richie and Richie didn’t want to mess things up more than he already did. 

“I c-cuh-can’t believe yo-you liked y/n.” Bill chuckled. 

It was after school and the two were in the library. The details of what happened that day eventually got out. Both Stan and Richie had told their sides of the story and the losers were respectful enough to not take sides. They just hung out with Richie when Stan wasn’t around and hung out with Stan when Richie wasn’t there. 

“What’s so bad about that?” Richie looked skeptically at his friend, trying his best to defend himself. 

“I mean, yea-yeah sh-sh-she’s cute—”

“She’s beautiful.” Richie cut off but Bill rolled his eyes. 

“What-h-ever. I-it’s just funny tha-hat you wuh-would go after her.” 

“I already told you she kissed me first.” Richie proclaimed, a little too proudly. 

“Sh-he’s Stan’s sister!” That was true. 

“And a good kisser.” That was also true. 

“Gross, Richie.” Bill returned to the book in front of him, but Richie kept egging on the conversation. 

“I don’t see why someone has to be off limits just because they’re related to a friend.” His annoyed tone was evident and Bill gave him a sympathetic look. 

“It-t’s b-ba-basically written in th-the br-r-ro code.” Bill paused for a moment and Richie didn’t know if it was because he was embarrassed of his stuttering or if he was gathering his thoughts. “But i-i-if you li-li-like her… wh-who am I to s-suh-say any-th-thing.” 

If Bill was insinuating what Richie thought he was, then that made him cooler than he already was. 

And that’s how Richie found himself in y/n’s room Friday night. The losers were meeting up at the Aladdin to see the new Jim Carrey movie and somehow Richie had been able to get himself out of it, claiming he was overdue on chores and couldn’t make it. 

“Th-that’s t-too bad, R-Rich.” Bill said over the phone (but he knew better) while the other losers pressed their ear up against it, listening in. “The c-co-omedy should be ri-right up your alley.” 

“Dumb and underdeveloped?” Eddie asked Bill. “I don’t wanna see a movie just to hate it,” he complained. 

“Yowza, Eds. And I thought you appreciated my jokes.” Richie feigned hurt over the speaker. “Anywho, I gotta make like a tree and hang up. The ‘rents are asking for me.” They weren’t. 

“O-okay. Maybe nuh-nuh-next wee—” Beep. 

Richie had already hung up. 

y/n grabbed his hand, which was clamped over her mouth and took it off. She was bursting to the seams with laughter. 

“I can’t believe you’re a liar now,” she tsked, trying to fake an ‘I’m-not-mad-at-you-just-disappointed’ look that her English teacher had given her once. 

“Only under these circumstances.” He was fast to attach his lips to hers. They didn’t have much time and he wanted to make the most of what they had now. 

Richie was on top of her now, his lips still on hers. He kissed her everywhere from the crown of her head to the crook of her neck. If his kisses left a print, her skin would be buried under them. 

“Rich…” She sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering from the pleasure he inflicted on her when he had found a sweet spot behind her ear. y/n kissed him back hard with force and a sort of dominance Richie didn’t know she had in her. 

She flipped them, so that she was on top now. y/n took this liberty of having full control to take off her shirt and Richie’s as well. 

Richie smirked and began to kiss lower. His pace was slower than he originally started. Painstakingly slow. y/n wined at how delicate his lips felt tracing her skin but she needed more. 

“Touch me,” she urged. Richie obeyed, his hands were now on her chest, massaging and caressing her delicate skin. 

There weren’t enough words to describe the thrill and satisfaction Richie gave her. y/n could relish in this boy’s embrace forever with how good he made her feel. She began grinding against his jeans, just like the day they were caught by Stanley, so she could ease the ache for him between his legs. 

Richie chuckled, feeling her press against him. He knew precisely what she wanted but to give or not to give in was the question. 

“y/n/n, we don’t have that long,” He warned. 

“I don’t care.” She started peppering his face in kisses the same way he had done to her. At the same time, she began to unbutton his jeans. Who would Richie be to turn down sex anyway? 

She was fast at getting him inside her. Definitely not inexperienced. But Richie didn’t want fast. Not with y/n, at least. He wanted their first together to be slow, sensual, special—

“You’re amazing,” he grunted and she blushed in response. 

Her pace quickened at his praise. Their movements together felt electric and y/n herself was so hypnotic, Richie felt he could get lost in the thought—or the feeling —of her forever. 

A feeling that was indescribable washed over Richie once the two of them were finished. He had stayed inside of her, and y/n was now laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and tracing circles on his skin with her thumb. Their chests rose and fell together at the same time, a small action that Richie melted at the sight of. 

“For the record, I didn’t want it to happen like this,” Richie said. There was a sort of fear palpable in his tone. 

“For the record, you kissed me first.” y/n eyed him suspiciously before giving him a peck on the cheek. “And what does that mean? Did you…” She shyly decided on her words for a moment. “Did you not want to..?” 

“No, no, no, no.” Richie immediately counteracted the girl’s suggestion. “I so wanted to do this. I’ve dreamed about doing this—” Richie stopped himself before his talking could make things worse, but y/n found his rambling amusing. 

“So, what did you mean?” y/n tried again. She reached out to hold his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. 

“I mean.” He let out a sigh before continuing. “I wanted us to be, like, an official couple and shit before we do this shit.” He motioned between them and to where they were still joined. 

y/n flushed at the sight and covered her face. 

“Hey.” Richie was soft. Softer than y/n had ever seen him be. He took her wrists in his hands, uncovering her face so he could admire her. 

She was stunning even after sex. 

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He was almost embarrassed to admit it, but with y/n he didn’t feel the need to be afraid. “I want us to go on dates and hold hands and tell each other about our day.” He was looking at the ceiling, daydreaming at the thought.

y/n’s eyes searched his face thoughtfully. “Of course, Rich. I want that, too!” She kissed his lips once more, elated at the boy in front of her. Her face fell shortly after she had a sudden understanding. “What’re you gonna do about Stan?” 

“Who’s Stan?” But Richie’s fake grin wasn’t fooling anyone. “Uh, well, we could tell him…” But when Richie saw a certain uneasiness consume y/n’s face, he ruled that option out. “How do you feel about dating in secret?” He offered. The situation wasn’t ideal, but at the time it seemed to be the lesser of the two evils at hand. 

“Okay,” y/n whispered. “So you should leave.” 

“Woah, babe, I just got here.” Richie sat up, looking for his shirt. 

“Yeah, but the movie should’ve ended by now.” y/n gestured towards the alarm clock on her nightstand causing Richie’s jaw to drop. 

He was heading towards the window now, knowing he had enough time to get out, but he wanted to be careful. 

“See you tomorrow then?” y/n giggled at how clingy he could be. 

“I’ll call you.” And Richie just couldn’t get enough of the smile she was wearing. 

“Sounds like a date!” He yelled from outside her house. 

During the drive home, Richie’s thoughts became lost in y/n once again. This was just the beginning.

[fab-wolf-in-the-gloom]

The One That Got Away, 1/1 (Codiere)

Summary: Lumiere is enjoying being human again until things get complicated when he runs into a familiar face.

A/N: 2.4k. Lumiere from Beauty and the Beast x Commander Cody from Star Wars. No I will not explain myself. No I do not have any idea how time works during the curse in this. Happy Valentine’s Day @zaricats

After having spent years longing to be human again, a part of Lumiere is beginning to think that perhaps he should be a bit more careful what he wishes for. The problems in life and love that one encounters are so much simpler as a candelabra who cannot venture outside of the castle you reside in. 

He’d only been human again for three weeks before he first caught himself wishing that the beauty that saved them all hadn’t made an appearance. He knew, of course, that had she not saved them when she had, he would’ve spent the rest of eternity as a fully inanimate object. He consoled himself with the knowledge that, having been saved, he maintained his ability to sing and dance and generally enjoy life - though perhaps he could do without those things if it meant that he didn’t find himself dealing with his problems.

It all started when Belle had asked him to go with her to move some things from her house in the village. Heavy lifting wasn’t exactly his strong suit or something he was particularly fond of, but with the allure of seeing the outside world for the first time in years being paired with a request from the lady of the castle, he found he couldn’t say no.

The village was as small as it had ever been, having not gained a single citizen in the time they had been frozen, barring Belle and her father. Despite this, there had seemed to be a big commotion in the town’s center - something or other about a proper memorial for that man who had stormed the castle, he thought he heard Belle say, though he found it hard to give her his full attention once he realized exactly who was causing the commotion.

Soldiers. Familiar soldiers, at that. 

Lumiere had considered himself free of any particular attachments outside of the castle. Mrs. Potts and Chip had Mr. Potts to find when their curse had broken, and whether he liked it or not Mrs. Cogsworth had found her way back to her husband once he was no longer a clock. But Lumiere didn’t have anyone waiting for him outside of the castle walls. All of his ties had been cut well before the curse, and no one would be tripping over themselves to get to the castle when everything was as it should be. He had convinced himself that he hadn’t had anyone worth going to look for either, until he saw him. Cody.

If you were to ask Lumiere what he had helped Belle bring back to the palace, or any other specifics of what occurred after they returned, he wouldn’t have an answer. For the life of him, that afternoon summed up to nothing but seeing him again. Cody was back. They hadn’t seen each other in years, even before the curse. Even so, he’d recognize that face anywhere, even when he was with his twin, or their other brothers that probably could have passed for his twin as well, at least when they had been young men. It was the scar above his left eyebrow that made him stand out. Any reasonable person would assume that a military man like him would have gotten an injury like that in the line of duty, but Lumiere knew better. He knew the story behind it, he knew the reason that he had joined the army, he knew all of it. He knew Cody, or at least he had known him. And suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be able to say that confidently in the present tense.

It isn’t as if he doesn’t love Plummet. She’s wonderful. He could have lived the rest of his life with her happily had he not seen him again, or perhaps even then if there was not to be a ball in just a few days with everyone in the village invited. Everyone, including the visiting soldiers.

“Oh Cogsworth, what am I to do?” Lumiere asks. He’s laying on the chaise in the library. Nowadays the library is perhaps the worst place to be to get some privacy, but his master and Belle had left only half an hour ago and he was sure that they would be gone for at least a few hours.

“You should avoid them both,” his old friend says with a sniff. “It will save you from headache in the long run.”

“Mais mon ami,” Lumiere counters, “it is not my head that I want to save from aching. I cannot lose him again, and I certainly cannot give up before I have started. I would not be able to sleep at night if I do not at least try to speak with him.”

“Well then, I believe you’ve already made your decision.”

“Oh, but what if he does not remember me? What shall I do then? It has been so long, and we were so young before he enlisted. I simply would not know what to do with myself if I were to speak to him and he did not remember me, and how could I go on if I asked him to dance and he claimed to not know me.”

Cogsworth nods. “That would indeed be mortifying.”

“And what of Plumette? Do I say something to her before the ball? Do I wait to see if he recognizes me before I tell her? And he might not even come at all, should I risk hurting her when he may not even show his face?”

“You truly have found yourself in quite the predicament.”

Lumiere pauses and glances at his friend. “You have not been listening to a word I’ve said,” he says.

Cogworth clears his throat. “Well, I went a long time without having ears, I’m still getting used to having them back.”

Lumiere rolls his eyes and points at the man-turned-clock-turned-man-again. “That is no excuse. You could hear very well as a clock, certainly you can hear just as well now.”

<3<3<3

“Yes, well, I had hoped that decades spent as a clock would keep me from having to listen to too much complaining, but I guess it was not meant to be.”

Lumiere stands up and stalks towards the exit. Upon reaching the door, he spins around. “You are the worst.”

The day before the ball, everything is falling apart.

The ball itself is coming together nicely. A grand effort is being made by everyone involved, and it shows. Not a speck of dust to be seen, the dining hall already prepared to have food displayed, and the halls echoing with the sounds of practicing musicians.

As the second ball since they were made human again - and, they suspected, the last before the wedding between Prince Adam and his Belle - the inhabitants of the castle are going all out for it.

In the days before the curse Lumiere had loved the luxury that he had lived in, and the fact that he had very few obligations. Now, watching the hustle and bustle of the preparations as his mind whirls one thought after another, he wishes that he had something, anything, to keep himself occupied.

He sits in the garden, hoping he’ll find something to distract himself. The roses on the grounds that had withered away during the curse are back in full bloom already, looking as healthy and beautiful as ever. One would never guess that the only rose in the palace with any petals at all just weeks ago had been the enchanted rose that had been their lifeline for all that time. Marveling at roses gets old quickly, however, especially after so much time spent thinking about roses - or at least one rose in particular - and Lumiere finds himself again thinking of the ball.

What should he wear? Should his highest aim be being recognizable? Or perhaps he should worry more about looking impressive? Or maybe -

A rustling behind him pulls him out of his thoughts.

“Plumette, what are you doing out here?” he asks.

“I could ask the same of you,” she responds, taking a seat next to him on the bench. “I did not expect to find you out here, but I did not know where else to look for you that I had not already checked.”

Lumiere is at a loss for words. “Do you -,” he pauses, still unsure of what he’s trying to ask. “Are you asking me to come with you?”

Lumiere clears his throat. “Yes, well, I needed some quiet to think,” he says.

She doesn’t bother to ask him what he was thinking about before responding. “Yes, well, I have been thinking too,” she says. She’s quiet for a moment before continuing, as if collecting herself. “I don’t think I’m going to stay in the castle much longer. I hear Belle talking about traveling to far away places and I find myself wanting that, too. I’ve spent years in this castle, I want to know the world beyond these walls.”

Plumette shakes her head. “No, I know you love it here. Besides, I think I need to do this myself. I do not know when I will be leaving, but it will be soon. I wanted you to hear it from me. I thought it would be the best way to prepare to say goodbye.”

Thoughts swirl in Lumiere’s head. If she will be leaving soon, then there’s nothing holding him back from approaching Cody. But if Cody has forgotten him? Could he handle being rejected twice so close together? Would he -

“I was really anticipating a more dramatic response,” Plumette says with a nervous laugh, and Lumiere realizes that he’s been silent for too long.

“What is there to say?” He responds. “If it’s what you want, then I certainly will not try and stop you. We did not spend all of those years cursed just to refuse to follow our hearts.”

She hugs him, and he finds his own words echoing in his head for the rest of the day.

We did not spend all of those years cursed just to refuse to follow our hearts.

<3<3<3

Lumiere would not consider the time he used to take to get ready for a ball unnecessarily long. Others, most loudly Cogsworth, would disagree, but he didn’t bother to listen to what they had to say. Especially Cogsworth, what did that man know of fashion, really?

That was nothing compared to how long he is taking right now.

Dressing for a ball was enough pressure when the only person that you had to impress was your employer, and maybe the head servant. Tonight’s pressure is different. All of this time gone by, he needs to be prepared to make an impression on Cody.

When he is finally ready - a bit late, but the butler is retiring soon and they all know that Lumiere is taking his place, so who is there to chastise him? - he heads downstairs. There won’t be much for him to do tonight, and he knows this. Balls haven’t been nights with much work since his primary duties were opening and closing doors. He’s grateful for it. With little work to do, that leaves him with plenty of time to do other things, like mingle with guests. Or just to mingle with one guest. Or perhaps, to see if he is not too old to seduce one of the guests.

He smirks at the thought, and it draws Cogworth’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, and Lumiere just shakes his head.

“Tonight is the night, we shall see how it goes.”

<3<3<3

The first half hour of the ball, and Lumiere keeps himself distracted. The guests trickle in, no one wanting to be the first to arrive resulting in no one arriving on time. He knows this story, he has lived it before.

The first hour of the ball, and it’s starting to look more like a ball as the guests arrive. The music plays, food is served, all is going well. Lumiere reminds himself that no matter how anxious he is, it’s a good thing that everything is going well. The guests having problems might give him something to distract himself with, but it could easily draw his eyes away from the door long enough for him to miss Cody’s arrival.

By the second hour of the ball, Lumiere is beginning to think that perhaps Cody’s arrival will be more of an “if” than a “when”. He’s dejected, but is trying hard not to show it. When the maître d’ asks for his help with something, he welcomes the distraction.

There’s something familiar about helping with these tasks, and Lumiere feels his mind drifting into distraction. He could’ve been a maître d’ in another life, he thinks. He thinks he’d enjoy it, and it might lend itself better to his flair for the dramatic than being a footman. By the time he is done and everything is running smoothly once again, Lumiere is almost distracted enough to move on with his night without checking to see if Cody had arrived while he was occupied. Almost.

Just as Lumiere begins to feel that he should give up, his heart stops as he spots him in the corner. 

He’s there, with the rest of his unit. Lumiere takes a second to marvel at the similarities between the men. He knew that Cody had followed his brothers’ lead in joining the army, but certainly they couldn’t all be his brothers, could they? Perhaps the army just has a type.

Realizing that he hasn’t moved since he spotted him, Lumiere begins to make his way through the crowd. If he was going to be made the head of staff in the next few months, it would only be proper to welcome high ranking guests personally, wouldn’t it? Yes, that will be his excuse if he finds he needs one, he decides.

“I know you, don’t I?”

As he approaches, the men grow quiet and acknowledge him. He welcomes them, and feels his heart drop as he sees no recognition on the face of the man he hasn’t stopped thinking about since he realized that they would meet again.

Just as Lumiere is about to pull himself away from the conversation, too worried about the potential embarrassment to try to jog Cody’s memory of him in front of all of these other people, Cody addresses him.

Lumiere decides in that moment that his waiting and vigilance tonight wasn’t a waste after all.

[deaku]

Count Wondamore

  Here’s an Ever After High fan-character/OC that actually popped up in a dream I had quite a while back after watching some EAH one evening.

  My part in this dream was a bit odd. I was in the role of a narrator; a guest narrator of sorts on some kind of exchange from a different kind of story, Brooke apparently went to my story and I came to observe in her place. Didn’t interact with anyone other than the Narrators and a brief conversation with Maddie.   Started off with a bit of a tour and the Narrators asked questions about how much I knew about the various characters we saw, apparently I had done my homework since I was able to name all the main characters and state some basic information about them. Well since I seemed to be knowledgeable about the most famous characters of the story the Narrators decided to show me someone not so well-known, I suppose as sort of an exercise in changing viewpoints and introducing characters. I saw a  rather unkempt looking individual in drab clothes that the Narrators introduced as Count Wondamore aka Excel Charming.

  The dream continued on and I got quite a bit of info out of it about Count Wondamore and after I woke up I continued to develop the character more and eventually wrote out a profile. So here it is...

Name: Count Wondamore (Real Name: Excellence “Excel” Charming)

=Story:

  Count (or occasionally Countess) Wondamore is the villain of their story; they are a member of a royal family that inherits Castle Wondamore, a dark castle in the mountains of the royal family’s domain, along with the Count Wondamore title. While the castle has a dark and foreboding history attached to it Wondamore decides that such a thing is not going to affect them and they’re going to do their best to help the local people. But it seems there’s more to the castle that just a dark history; Wondamore’s personality eventually becomes dark and they start to terrorize the people they first tried to help.   Wondamore’s terror begins to spread as their forces enter into a neighboring kingdom, but a member of the royalty of that kingdom decides to fight back. This royal hero and their allies fight through Wondamore’s forces and face the villain in the castle. The hero and villain have a sword fight and they eventually end up on one of the high tower battlements where the hero triumphs over Wondamore and the villain is ran through and falls from the tower, and so ends Wondamore’s part of the story.

  The role of Wondamore is a bit odd among the fairytales in that while it does stay within the same family it does not pass from parent to child. This is due to the fact that no Wondamore has survived their story and had children; actually there hasn’t been a Wondamore that has survived past their ninetieth year. When it is time for the role to be taken up again a successor is chosen from the children of the appropriate age from the kingdom’s royal family, typically passing from uncle/aunt to niece/nephew rather than the typical parent to child as with many other fairytales.   Most Wondamores have followed the story as per tradition despite knowing the fate that awaits them as with all Wondamores before them. Some only give a token attempt at being good and helpful before diving right into the villainous part of the story, wanting to vent all the anger, spite and perhaps despair they have at their impending fate. Others actually try and avoid the villainous part altogether and simply keep helping people, but events always seem to conspire to see that Wondamore has some sort of battle with some sort of hero and meets their scripted end.   There are those that wonder if the role of Wondamore has some sort of curse on it. Most fairytales have at least a bit of leeway in how things can play out and how the story can end as long as the major story points happen as they are supposed to. Even villains can survive what was supposed to be their scripted end if they can arrange it so that it happens “off-screen” and they make their exit from the story so that it can proceed as it is supposed to. Not so with the role of Wondamore; despite many trying to avoid a permanent end none have succeeded as of yet.

=History:

  The current Count Wondamore was born Excellence Charming, also know simply as Excel, a prince of one of the many Charming families around the land. At first he was raised as any child from a Charming family might be, loved and given anything he needed or wanted. Excel was growing up to be a cheerful, energetic and confident child who was also very bright.   However early on something that Excel’s family had hoped wouldn’t happen and hoped they could ignore came to pass; it was time for the role of Count Wondamore to be assumed once again and Excel was the only child of the family that was the appropriate age, it was absolutely confirmed when his powers awoke. Things changed after that, while his family still loved him and gave him all he needed or wanted but they started to distance themselves a bit and sometimes acted as if they were in mourning when he was around. While only the very basics of the role of Wondamore were told to him to try and spare Excel some grief and not potentially ruin his childhood Excel was more observant than they thought and knew something was wrong. He was also smarter than they gave him credit for and he was able to read through the tale of Wondamore and understand just what it meant for his future.   Afterwards Excel wasn’t a very cheerful child anymore, though he had occasional moments, and his energy and confidence were redirected. He spent a lot of time reading over any fairytale his family had been involved in, all the various roles that his family had and all the different people in those roles. Excel was searching for anyone who had managed to avoid their final fate as Wondamore or any potential clues in the tales of other family members, but could find nothing. Even when he would look to the fairytales of those outside his family he could find nothing. Excel could recite the tale of any of his family perfectly from memory, but none gave him any hope.   When Excel was old enough to attend Ever After High he had come to a conclusion that made logical sense to him, to avoid his death as Count Wondamore he would simply do his best not to play along with the story. While he couldn’t escape going to school Excel decided he simply wouldn’t put any effort towards anything involving his story or preparing for his story, which for the most part meant his classes. Perhaps if he didn’t make the effort to get the tale properly started the end can’t come and thus his end won’t happen. Although when Excel’s honest with himself he doubts this plan will really work, no Wondamore before has been able to avoid their seemingly inevitable fate. Why should it be any different for him? Maybe this is just his way of venting his frustration with his situation, his way of rebelling.

=Appearance

  Excel does not try to stand out and is not a very imposing figure. His long dark hair is always a mess and his skin has a rather unhealthy looking pallor; his blue eyes are almost always half to mostly closed and have dark circles under them. He also heavily slouches and tends to shuffle his feet as he moves around. Excel usually dresses in loose long sleeve shirts or sweaters with a hoodie and pants in drab colors, while his clothes aren’t dirty they are pretty well wrinkled.   While Excel’s appearance does usually work to keep many from taking too much notice of him, most people’s gazes just pass right over his drab colors and move to more colorful individuals. However it can have the opposite effect if he gets caught in a tight crowd of other students, at times like this his drab colors tend to stick out a lot since they’re such a contrast to whoever may be packed around him.

=Powers/Magic Touch:

   Count Wondamore has the power to animate the inanimate; in the story the Count uses this to create an army out of the many suits of armor that are within Castle Wondamore. However this power is not limited only to animating suits of armor, any inanimate object can be animated by Wondamore. The only limitation is that the object being animated can not have life of its own either natural or magical; an object may have been alive at some point but as long at it has no life at the time Wondamore uses their power it can be animated. Count Wondamore’s power is even capable of some reshaping of objects that are animated, repurposing parts or simply altering shape enough to allow movement and action.   This power does not grant life to an object only instills a magical animating force. Wondamore can imprint commands into an animated object so that it can act on its own and respond to things in a limited fashion, though an animated object can be easily overwhelmed/out-smarted if it encounters a situation that Count Wondamore’s imprinted commands don’t account for. A Wondamore can also mentally control the objects they animate directly; this form of control allows Wondamore to see, hear and even speak though the objects controlled in this way. While it is possible for a Wondamore to act themselves as they mentally control their animated objects the more objects they personally control at once the more focus it takes and the less they can do with their own body. Distance is also a factor; the further the animated objects are away from Wondamore the less they can keep control over directly.

=Other Info

  -Excel’s typical appearance is not actually because he is lazy and doesn’t take care of himself, it is in fact a carefully crafted look. Unfortunately for his plans Excel is like many Charmings across the land in that he can roll out of bed hardly looking disheveled and looking nearly perfect and ready for the day ahead. For Excel to assume his carefully crafted “Non-Charming” look actually takes quite a bit of make-up and about twenty minutes every morning. “Looking this bad is hard work.” Excel often comments to himself; his roommate thinks he’s a nut but never comments on it nor tells anyone because it’s more amusing that way. Also because of his slouching Excel is actually taller than most people think, but since being tall might make him stand out more he continues to slouch. He’s also a lot more fit than most people realize since he exercises privately, his choice of clothing covers everything up.   Excel also carries a make-up kit on him, usually in a hidden pocket in his shirt, just in case his look needs any touch-ups or fixing during the day.

  -When he first started at Ever After High Excel didn’t put much effort into his schoolwork since he was already working on his plan of attempting not playing along with his story. But that didn’t last long as Headmaster Grimm contacted Excel’s parents and they freaked out a bit since although his story destiny was to be a villain he was still part of a Charming family and a Charming does not fail. Excel’s parents got him to promise that he wouldn’t fail his schoolwork anymore and that he would get a passing grade. After that Excel worked to just barely get a passing grade on his work, fulfilling the exact word of the promise rather than the intent.   Headmaster Grimm was rather livid at this, like Excel’s parents he is of the opinion that a Charming should not be failing in school. Baba Yaga however has a different opinion, Excel’s grades across all his classes are so consistent at being just barely passing that the only explanation is that he is doing it on purpose. Baba Yaga feels that this shows a devious sort of evil thinking; seemingly doing bad at first glance but once one takes a closer look it’s obvious there’s intelligent planning behind the act, perhaps intended to give hope to those looking close that there’s something special there but always hanging that hope just out of reach. As evidence Baba Yaga points out that on occasions where’s she’s caught Excel off-guard, like with a surprise pop quiz question or something like it, he will give the correct answer or ace the activity. Further Excel, unlike most other students with low grades, seems a bit annoyed rather than happy when Baba Yaga gives him a good grade on something, messing up his apparently carefully cultivated low grade average.

  -To keep his powers under control Excel has to constantly practice with them, if not he may animate things without meaning too. The first time this happened was shortly after his powers awoke; he went to bed one night and woke up to find his bed was trotting its way down the road halfway to the next kingdom. Since then he has practiced every day animating and disanimating things, which not only has allowed him to refine his powers but also helps him to keep his magical energies tightly controlled. Of course this regular practice doesn’t match up with the persona he has created for school, so to practice Excel leaves the school grounds after classes are done and sneaks off into the nearby forest to practice his abilities out of everyone’s view.   Along with practicing his magical abilities in secret Excel also exercises and practices his swordplay. His father is very big on physical fitness and self-defense skills and was very insistent on the whole family keeping in shape and learning how to defend themselves. From an early age Excel had a daily exercise routine as well as sword training and even a bit of hand-to-hand combat practice. After having done such for so long Excel found it difficult to just quit doing it even if continuing was a bit counter-intuitive to his plans. So Excel decided to just keep it as part of his training along with his magic, doing his best to keep his full skills and abilities secret.

  -Despite everything Excel actually does like Ever After High, it’s full of interesting people and something out of the norm always seems to be going on. Plus he doesn’t have a view of the family graveyard like he does at home. It’s not that graveyards in particular bother him, in fact someone can point to any grave in his family’s graveyard and Excel can tell their tale from memory. What bothers him is there’s a section that’s gated off from the rest specifically for the Wondamores, which is one big reminder of his impending fate that he’d rather not have to see.   But something that really gets to Excel is a certain tradition regarding the Wondamores; one that he hasn’t been able to find out when or why it started, which bugs him all the more. A Wondamore’s grave is dug while they are still alive, often at the time it is known they are going to be the Count Wondamore, complete with gravestone with the name and their nineteen years already engraved on it. Excel does not like the fact that his own grave is already there waiting for him.

=Relationships with other students

  Ever since finding out what his story was and what was going to happen to him Excel didn’t think there was much of a point in even developing any sort of relationship. What would be the point of making friends or being in love if he was already destined to meet his end when he was nineteen? Excel figures it’d be better to spare everyone the grief of getting close to him only to have him soon die. Although since Excel has no control over how other people act things aren’t going as he had hoped.

-Apple White

  Excel has probably known Apple longer than anyone else his own age; their mothers are old friends from back in school and when visiting each other they would bring their children along so that they could play together.   When at Excel’s they would typically play various games, usually chosen by Apple, but quite often they would end up storytelling as they would walk through the family graveyard and Apple would pick random people and Excel would tell their story. But Excel never took Apple into the Wondamore section, he never had the heart to.   When at Apple’s she would usually come up with some variation on a ‘save the princess’ game; with her as the princess to be saved, Excel as the rescuing prince, and often talking her father into taking the role of evil king holding her hostage. Even when her father would try and point out that he is in fact a good king Apple would tell him they need a villain for their game and that an evil king was a classic fairytale villain, he never could argue against her for long though. Even if the fact was brought up that Excel was actually going to be the villain in his story Apple wouldn’t hear of it, she needed a prince for her game and Excel was going to be that prince.   As they got older they wouldn’t play so many games; though the storytelling remained and there was often quite a bit more discussion about the themes and details of the various stories. They also began to practice various skills they figured they might need for their futures.   Now that they are in Ever After High Apple still refers to Excel as her childhood friend, she’s also the only one who always calls him ‘Excel’ rather than ‘Wondamore’ ‘Count’ or the full ‘Count Wondamore’ like nearly everyone else. Excel in keeping with the persona he has created answers question of how long they’ve known each other with a “Yeah, we’ve known each other for a long time...”. And even though Apple knows what Excel’s roll is supposed to be, and has even known the basics for years, she seems unconcerned about his story destiny. Excel supposes it could be denial, Apple just doesn’t want to think about one of her oldest friends meeting an early death. But he’s pretty sure it’s that she’s confident that he’s not actually going to die when his story’s over, that he’ll find some way for Count Wondamore to ‘die’ like the story says but find an exit for himself and continue on living. Excel wishes he was so confident.   Also Excel’s created persona is not quite as effective as he hoped thank in part to Apple. While Excel’s act is very convincing to a lot of people, even to some that knew him before he started doing it, Apple laughs about it and tells people that Excel is simply perfecting his villainous deception skills. Excel neither confirms nor denies this if he’s within earshot and usually just walks away and lets people think what they want. Though he finds he must admit, at least privately, that Apple’s not exactly wrong, he is trying to pull off a pretty big deception with his crafted persona.

-Raven Queen

  Along with attending a few ‘evil’ classes together Excel also knows Raven through Apple telling him various things and Maddie’s tea parties when Raven is there as well. While Excel doesn’t hang out with Raven much outside of class, Maddie’s tea parties and occasionally while talking with Apple he does have quite a bit of respect for her. Raven refused to follow her story destiny and chose to follow her own path and it seems to be working out quite well for her; while Excel is perhaps a bit jealous that Raven was able to pull it off it actually gives him a small bit of hope that maybe he can find a way out of his story destiny as well.   While she hasn’t asked and Excel hasn’t told her Raven seems to have the basic idea of why he does what he does; Raven has told Excel if he ever needs to talk to anybody about anything she’d be willing to listen, he hasn’t taken her up on her offer but Excel appreciates the sentiment.

-Madeline “Maddie” Hatter

  Excel, possibly like many others, isn’t quite sure what to think of Maddie; he interacts with her quite a bit since she often pulls him into impromptu tea parties, but Excel still feels he doesn’t fully understand her. Though Excel thinks he knows why Maddie grabs him for tea parties, he’s pretty sure it’s because of his title/name Wondamore. Though Maddie always says it as “Wonder More” and often comments to him “Everybody could use more Wonder.” But despite it all Excel doesn’t really mind being pulled into teatime with Maddie. They simply drink tea and make random small talk and sometimes discuss the goings on around school, while Excel could sometimes do without the talking the tea is too good to pass up.

-Briar Beauty

  While they have known each other for quite a long time Excel and Briar consider each other more acquaintances then friends, sort of a friend of a friend type of thing through Apple. They did all hang out when they were children when their parents got together, while Briar did enjoy the more active games they did, like the rescue games at Apple’s, storytime tended to bore her and she typically would nap through it. When they got older Briar and Excel drifted even further apart as she started with more thrilling activities and parties; though she considers him a decent guy who is a pretty good listener if one needs one, but not really one for exciting things. Excel thinks of Briar as an exciting person to be around when she’s awake but really doesn’t see the point of getting himself too involved in her activities.

-Ashlynn Ella & Hunter Huntsman

  Ashlynn is another that has known Excel for years, nearly as long as Apple, since their mothers are old friends as well. When Ashlynn, Apple, Briar and Excel would play together when they were younger she would often suggest more nature-related activities and playing in the wilderness around their homes. Though she didn’t mind playing other games and did enjoy storytime at Excel’s when Apple would get him to tell stories. Ashlynn worried for a bit when she learned that Excel’s destined story role was to be a villain. However when they were out in the wilderness the animals seemed to like Excel and Ashlynn never saw one react negatively to him like she thought they might towards a villain, she felt this proved that Excel couldn’t be evil.   When they got older and began attending Ever After High Ashlynn was initially quite surprised at Excel’s apparent transformation. She had a feeling for quite a while that he was increasingly depressed about his coming role in his story, but didn’t know what to say to him about it. What could she say when it involved the roles they were supposed to live out? But it was still a bit of a shock to see someone she had known so long go through such a change. While Ashlynn would like to believe Apple’s theory of why Excel is doing such a thing she’s not fully convinced; she’s tried to gently bring up the subject with him a few times but Excel just doesn’t seem interesting in talking about it. Ashlynn wishes she just had the right words to get Excel to open up what’s bothering him.   Hunter didn’t meet Excel until they were attending Ever After High, and only then he only knew Excel as they guy he’d see dressed in drab colors walking down the hallways. Hunter never learned more until he and Ashlynn started secretly dating and she told him things of her friends, though Hunter found it a bit hard to connect some of the things Ashlynn told him with the guy she was telling him about. Although Hunter was aware of the story the Count Wondamore was a part of before he knew Excel was destined for that role, he found that even harder to connect to Excel than the things Ashlynn told him.   However one day they all got a bit of a surprise. Back when Ashlynn’s and Hunter’s relationship was still a secret they were enjoying a stroll through the woods and chatting. They were so focused on each other they didn’t notice the figure coming down the path towards them, and Excel was pretty deep in thought going over what he was going to do that day in training. None of them noticed until they nearly ran into each other. They were silent in their surprise for a moment and then Hunter tried to give an excuse of why he was in the woods with Ashlynn while she simultaneously tried some small talk with Excel; Excel just arched an eyebrow at the two as they stumbled over their words a bit trying to come up with a matching story. Excel finally gave a sigh and told them “I didn’t see you. You didn’t see me. Deal?” to which Ashlynn and Hunter, quickly quieting for a moment when they realized what he said, agreed to. They then continued on their respective ways, Ashlynn and Hunter back towards the school while Excel went deeper into the forest. While Ashlynn wondered what Excel was up to she respected his apparent wish for secrecy and decided not to bring the issue up. Hunter on the other hand was curious enough to track Excel on a later day and hung back enough not to get caught when Excel was training; he later told Ashlynn and while she did scold him a bit for snooping she did thank him for letting her know what her friend was up to, Excel training really didn’t surprise her though since she already knew how much he did while at home. Even when Ashlynn’s and Hunter’s relationship became known publicly they decided to keep to the deal and keep quiet about what Excel is up to.

-Daring Charming

While not part of the same Charming family/clan Excel has known of Daring for quite a while since he is a part of what is probably the most well known of all the Charming families in the land. When Excel finally met Daring in person he wasn’t too surprised, Daring matched up to pretty much everything Excel had heard about him. Though Daring’s focus on appearances and his frequent habit of checking himself in mirrior does get on Excel’s nerves a bit. Daring on the other hand seems determined to help the “less fortunate” Charming by offering fashion advice and asking if Excel would like to borrow a mirror when he notices Excel is around.

-Darling & Dexter Charming

  Like with their older brother Daring Excel has known of both Darling and Dexter for quite some time. While they seemed to be about what Excel expected when he actually met them for the first time once in Ever After High; their reaction seemed to be more of disbelief at the fact that he was supposed to be a Charming. Apple’s theory that she tells people seemed to lessen that first impression somewhat, but Excel’s act is good enough that it kept the twins wondering.   But one day things changed. Darling had talked Dexter into coming with her to a secluded spot in the forest so that he could help her better her swordplay, him being the only one at school at the time that knew her true skills and dreams, and having an actual opponent would help much more than practicing by herself. Although when they reached the clearing Darling had chosen for their training that day they found themselves looking at a most unexpected sight. They saw the one they knew as Count Wondamore in a duel with some kind of rocky wood creature, in reality a pile of stone and wood that he had tied together into a vague humanoid form and animated as a sparing partner as part of his own training. Excel was a lot better than either Darling or Dexter ever expected, it was like they were watching a completely different person. Suddenly what Apple had been telling them didn’t seem so far-fetched after all. They were about to leap in to help Excel against whatever that creature was when he suddenly told the thing to hold and it stopped moving completely as he tightened the ropes that held it together. When he was finished Excel resumed the duel with his creation as Darling and Dexter looked on in disbelief, they had heard he had some sort of animating power but had thought it was restricted to things like suits of armor.   It was then Darling made a decision, she stepped out from behind the brush her and Dexter had been hiding behind and walked out to where Excel was dueling. Excel was so absorbed in his duel that he didn’t notice Darling until she was practically right next to him and when he finally noticed her her sudden, to him, appearance actually startled him and he stumbled and Excel had to have his creation catch him before he went face down to the ground. Dexter came running out as Excel recovered; at first Excel tried to slip back into his persona and come up with some sort of explanation but quickly gave that up when he realized that the two had already seen far too much for him to be able to explain it away. Instead Excel drew himself up to his full height and took on a more imposing stance before asking the twins what they wanted. While Dexter was a little intimidated Darling was actually amused by such a drastic change, again it was like they had a completely different person in front of them rather than the Count Wondamore they knew. To answer Excel’s question Darling decided to be completely honest about why they were there and what she wanted to do, adding that perhaps they maybe weren’t so different. Excel responded that maybe they did have a couple things in common, but he'd keep their secrets if they kept his. Darling agreed, but she wanted a duel with him first. Dexter tried to object but Darling shushed him and said that it’d be more interesting to duel someone that she didn’t already know how they fought. Excel thought a moment and accepted Darling’s challenge. Their duel went on for several minutes but they both eventually decided on a draw; while Excel had greater skill and experience he had worn himself out quite a bit already in his daily training and couldn’t overcome Darling’s natural talent and energy, Darling found it extremely difficult to find any openings in Excel’s defense and really didn’t want to win just because her opponent was already worn out when they started the duel.   Afterwards Darling managed to convince Excel that continuing to train together would be a good idea, and was even able to talk Dexter into it as well. They don’t train together everyday because various commitments from school and such get in the way or circumstances prevent them from sneaking away. Darling prefers to meet up at least three times a week but no matter what’s going on she’ll make sure there’s at least one meet up a week; she tends to need to remind and nudge Dexter when it’s time for training even if he’s okay with just one or two times a week. Darling loves the training and feels that having multiple people to train with is excellent for bettering her own skills, and it feels nice not to have to keep up the perfect princess image that many expect of her while she’s training. Dexter isn’t as enthusiastic about the training as Darling but does admit it has helped him improve his skill; what actually interests Dexter more is Excel’s ability to animate objects, Dexter likes to bring various small trinkets to Excel just to observe how they’ll move around once animated. Excel actually agrees with Darling in that training with others does help to improve his skills; while Excel is able to animate something to spar with no dueling opponent he can make can surprise him since he knows all of what it can do, while actual living intelligent opponents are unpredictable and thus better at testing him.   Although Excel has one worry that has developed from this continued association with Darling and Dexter, he’s afraid that he might be training the potential hero of his story. While Excel acknowledges the possibility that it could be Dexter he thinks that Darling is a more suitable potential candidate. Excel would rather not have their friendship end by Darling being his executioner.

-C. A. (Chariclo Arganthone) Cupid

  Excel and Cupid had a rather odd start. While they had known of each other for a while and occasionally saw each other in the halls they didn’t have classes together nor did they interact. However one day as Excel was sitting by himself under a tree on the school grounds eating lunch he noticed someone walk up next to him and when he looked to see who it was Excel saw Cupid standing there. Excel thought Cupid looked a bit sad as she asked if she could sit down. Cupid told Excel that she didn’t want to be alone but felt she couldn’t sit with her friends because they’d ask what was wrong and she didn’t really want to talk to them about it; but she thought that since her and Excel didn’t really know each other he wouldn’t feel compelled to ask anything. Excel simply waved a hand to the ground next to him and continued with his lunch as Cupid sat down.   As they sat there in silence Excel studied Cupid out of the corner of his eye, Cupid just sat there looking sad with her legs pulled up and head resting on her knees while sighing often. Excel then came to a decision, even if he considered it against his better judgement, and told Cupid “If there’s something you want to get off your chest and just need someone to listen I won’t be going anywhere for a while…” He said nothing more and went back to sipping on the drink he had. Cupid looked at him strangely but Excel didn’t even react and just kept looking off towards the school as he had been when she walked up. After a moment Cupid began to talk; she told Excel of her crush on Dexter, but Dexter had a crush on Raven and Raven seemed to have a crush on him as well. But even if she liked Dexter it was Cupid’s duty to help love bloom and develop naturally, not force it along a path she chose. If Dexter liked Raven and Raven liked him back she would do her best to make that love happen, even if it broke her own heart. After telling Excel all that Cupid went quiet for a few moments but eventually stood up and thanked him, being able to tell someone that really did help and she was feeling a little better. She gave him a small smile and made her way back into the school.   But that wasn’t the last time the two would spend time together. Afterwards Cupid would occasionally seek Excel out for much the same reason as the first; most of the time it was just because she needed someone to listen to her vent some frustration, though there are times when she just desires some quiet company. Excel doesn’t mind listening to Cupid’s problems, it takes little effort on his part and she feels better afterwards so it’s fine with him.   Although when Cupid found out about his power, after hearing Apple mention it, she has requested Excel’s help a few times. Cupid is self-admittedly a rather poor shot with her bow and arrows, which is a little embarrassing for her to admit considering it’s part of her duty. There have been incidents when Cupid has been trying to help a love note reach the intended recipient, and circumstances have prevented the writer from delivering it themselves, where if she was a better shot with her bow she could deliver it right where it needed to be. However due to her poor aim Cupid’s afraid if she were to try and deliver it by arrow the note still might not reach it’s intended recipient, or worse end up going to the wrong person. Since finding out about Excel’s power she has folded such notes into little bird shapes and asked Excel to animate them so that they can fly to who and where they need to go; Excel grants Cupid’s requests since it’s a pretty simple thing for him to do and takes little energy on his part.

-Cerise Hood

  Though Cerise and Excel do interact occasionally, typically at times when Excel is talking with Raven for some reason while she is hanging out with Cerise, the two consider themselves acquaintances at best. Excel doesn’t mind hanging around Cerise since she doesn’t talk with him much other than general pleasantries and he actually likes the look of her hooded cloaks; although he always gets the feeling that she’s hiding something whenever she’s around, but doesn’t ask questions since he figures she’s entitled to her secrets whatever they may be.   When she first met him Cerise thought Excel was a rather weird guy, though pretty much harmless even if he was supposed to be a villain. Then one day after school when she was running through the woods Cerise heard something that sounded like a fight going on close by. Cerise tracked the noise down and when she located the commotion she was surprised to see Excel there going through some sort of sword practice against a log that was up on it’s end and actually swinging back at him. Apparently those things she had heard Apple mention were true after all. Cerise kept hidden and after watching awhile she decided to quietly sneak away and decided not to tell anyone what she saw, she felt Excel is entitled to his secrets. Cerise does occasionally check up on Excel’s training to see how it’s going but keeps herself hidden the entire time; and she got a pretty big shock one day when she saw the Darling and Dexter Charming had apparently joined in on Excel’s training, she decided to keep the whole thing to herself and simply enjoy the show when she sees it.

-Ramona Badwolf

  Excel and Ramona are often paired together by her father Mr. Badwolf for projects in his class. Mr. Badwolf’s thinking is that Ramona would be able to get Excel to put in some actual effort; while Ramona enjoys playing up being bad and disrespecting her father in public she does not like to fail, so Mr. Badwolf figured Ramona would be able to push Excel to do better than usual. It didn’t exactly work out as planned. While the two get along and turn in decent enough work to pass easily it’s not quite as Mr. Badwolf expected; while Excel seems to do a bit better when working with Ramona she seems to deliberately hold herself back a bit simply to mess with her father. When questioned about it Ramona has been known to answer “Two half-assed efforts add up to enough effort to pass my dad’s class.” and then laugh at her father’s reaction. But despite it all Mr. Badwolf continues to pair them for projects since they are able to work together without the drama or one-upmanship that tend to plague many other future villains when they work together, such things are not appropriate all the time.   While they don’t hang out outside of class Ramona and Excel do get along quite well and don’t mind being paired together for whatever projects they need to do for Mr. Badwolf’s class. Ramona actually likes that Excel isn’t into his villain role; he doesn’t get in her face being overly dramatic and doesn’t go on and on about evil plans like some of the others tend to do. Plus his powers can be used to mess with people in fun ways when she can convince him to use them. Excel appreciates that Ramona doesn’t try and push him to be more evil and likes her laid-back and casual “bad attitude” and doesn’t mind animating an occasional item for her to mess with someone.   Ramona actually does know about Excel’s training; she saw him heading out into the woods one day and was curious, not to mention bored, and decided to follow him to see what he was up to. Following his scent Ramona was able to keep back out of sight while she tracked Excel. But when she caught view of him again Ramona found a surprising sight, but managed to keep herself under control enough to remain out of view, she saw Excel doing some sort of training with Darling and Dexter Charming. After watching a bit Ramona had to admit she was impressed, she never expected Excel could move and fight like that, or either of the two Charmings for that matter. But as she continued to watch Ramona caught another familiar scent and followed it around the clearing the others were in to find her sister. Cerise was so absorbed in watching that Ramona actually startled her when she walked up behind her, though fortunately they’re weren’t noticed. After talking with her sister and a bit of poking fun Ramona decided to take off before she was noticed. Ramona figured she’d keep what she saw secret; she liked Excel enough not to give away something he obviously wanted to keep secret, and she was someone who could keep a secret when needed.

-Fayebelle Thorn

  Ever since Baba Yaga had Excel demonstrate his powers to animate a suit of armor during a discussion about different magics Fayebelle has been annoyed with Excel, with that sort of power he could cause so much evil mischief. And he doesn’t seem interested in his story either, sure it ends badly for the villain but he could have so much awesome evil fun before that. So Fayebelle has decided to take it upon herself as a minor side-project to encourage Excel to embrace his evil destiny and use his powers to the fullest. She knows Excel can animate stuff besides armor, Fayebelle has seen him helping out Cupid and is pretty sure he has animated stuff for Ramona too, so she’s positive his power has so much evil potential. Excel hasn’t taken any of her advice yet but she figures it’s only a matter of time. She’s Fayebelle Thorn after all, how could he not listen to her?   Excel for his part does his best to ignore Fayebelle and her advice; he figures that she is actually trying to help in her own way but that still doesn’t make it any less annoying to him. Excel briefly considered animating something for Fayebell when she asked, to get her to leave him along if nothing else, but decided against it since it’d probably only encourage her more. But since Fayebelle doesn’t bother him that often Excel simply continues to ignore her as well as whatever people might say about it.

[imaginedanganronpa]

Can you please do some headcanons on Shuichi and some of the V3 cast being affected by the Despair disease? Shuichi being a meaner version of Togami and says mean to stuff to the remaining cast that are surprisely true about themselves. Like taking their flaws or insecurities and slapping them in the face.

I decided to just write the whole Cast being affected with it, hope that’s okay! But poor Saihara, I can’t imagine him doing those things. 

Fair Warning: Some Minor Spoilers from SDR2 and Spoilers for the Mastermind in V3!

V3 Cast Getting Infected With the Despair Disease! 

Kaede Akamatsu

Pessimistic Disease

Kaede is normally a veryoptimistic leader-type who sometimes forcefully pushes her friends towards uncovering the Mastermind and finding the truth, but after being affected by the Despair Disease, all of those leadership qualities will be discarded.

Her firm, strong-willed character disappears and is replaced by a much more pessimistic version of herself. Kaede will have a weak mind and feel no motivation in this Killing Game.

Kaede is convinced that they are all going to die here and succumbs to the very Motive behind the Despair Disease as she falls into Despair and completely gives up.

On top of her pessimistic attitude, Kaede no longer cares about the well-being of her classmates and becomes quite selfish. In her eyes, nothing they do in this Killing Game matters because they will all either die or be trapped here for the rest of their lives. She sees no reason to fight since it all seems pointless to her, anyway; and doesn’t want to give the others a false sense of hope and security.

Kaede has no desire to motivate the others and couldn’t care less about who dies or becomes the Blackened and who lives. She has also seemingly convinced herself that, “I’ll be the next victim anyway.”

She becomes much less brave and more willing to give up her life because she no longer sees a real reason to try or live.

Kaede also becomes increasingly irritable and vulgar, especially towards her classmates. Any positive attribute she had before getting infected seemed to be a thing of the past.

Overall, she doesn’t trust the others whatsoever and puts her guard up, not letting anyone get close to her - especially including Saihara Shuichi; she considers him to be the most sketchy out of all of them and believes that he has something to hide involving his Detective talent. Kaede develops a strong hatred for her classmates and detests being around them, nevertheless speaking to them.

After being infected with this Disease, she no longer has any faith in their situation and reverts back to her previous self.

Saihara Shuichi

Crude Disease

After being infected with the Despair Disease, Saihara will become increasingly over-confident and even somewhat cocky, believing that he has a place above the others and that they are inferior to him. 

Before, he was anxious and a bit reserved, but now Saihara demands to be the center of attention and talks down to the rest of the participants. Any fear that he had before subsides and he no longer has any issues with social interaction or insecurities.

He also refuses to use his talent for beneficial purposes, believing that everyone else’s talents are pointless while his is the most valuable one here, and that they should be begging him to use his abilities to help them. 

In Saihara’s eyes, they would have been dead by now if it weren’t for him and he shouldn’t waste his talent on useless individuals.

However, this causes him to believe in himself a little bit too much which actually alters his skills and diminishes his talent.

Saihara can be incredibly mean at times, using his talent to uncover the other’s insecurities and then using that against them. He also isn’t afraid to expose the others or belittle them with facts about themselves that are surprisingly true, being far too brutally honest with the others and definitely stepping over some sensitive lines.

He isn’t nearly as serious as he was before, often making dark jokes about their situation or taking breaks to poke fun at the remaining cast. Saihara comes across as incredibly crude and downright evil, causing the others to avoid him rather than flocking to him for help and support.

Instead of making logical decisions, Saihara puts blind faith into his abilities and goes off of hunches, as well as wildly accusing the other students and talking down to them like they are children.

He also shows little fear about their situation, not taking it as seriously as he should and shrugging off the Trials. If someone gets something twisted or accuses the wrong person, he will also call them, “Stupid” or “Idiotic” and laugh in their face.

And with improved people-skills, Saihara not only comes across as rude and mean, but can also come off as a bit flirty and confident, possibly too confident for his own good.

Maki Harukawa

Compassionate Disease

Before, Maki was an incredibly reserved and sometimes hostile person who showed little to no empathy. Now, however, she is always seen with a big, bright smile on her face and an overly preppy, bubbly attitude to boot.

Maki shows a great love an adoration for everything around her and cares about them way too much.

This isn’t limited to people, though, and she also shows love towards inanimate objects and animals as well. She is shown to be greatly affected whenever one of her classmate’s is in a bad mood or gets injured and can be seen talking to plants and animals.

Maki cries easily and at nearly everything in an almost childlike, immature way. She is much less serious and more carefree, even acting like a child at times.

Overprotective of her loved ones, which is everyone, she is constantly checking up on the other students to make sure that they are okay and asking them how their day was, providing emotional support if they need it. She may also pry if you try shooing her away.

Maki is overly friendly and just wants everyone else to get along. She has no tolerance for violence or hostility of any kind and often breaks up fights, getting extremely emotional whenever her classmates argue.

After all, she feels way too much and is much more sensitive now than before, all of her emotions are much more intense and even the smallest thing can send her over the edge. Maki follows her heart much more than her mind.

She can be a bit air-headed at times and come off as oblivious, not always understanding the weight of the Killing Game.

She is also much more attached to the others, especially Kaito. She is constantly bringing him gifts and clinging onto him even when he doesn’t want her around, and often giggles like a school girl whilst blabbing on and on about how much she loves not only Kaito but everyone else here.

Needless to say, once Maki was finally cured, she was disgusted with herself for acting this way. She refused to believe that she could actually be like that, Disease or not.

Ouma Kokichi

Honest Disease

Despite his talent as an Ultimate Supreme Leader, once exposed to the Despair Disease, Ouma won’t be able to stand evil motives and wishes to rid the world of any and all negativity and evil-doers. He also positively motivates his classmates to finding the Mastermind.

Ouma is extremely compassionate and shows love for his friends, and could never imagine doing anything to hurt them. 

And most importantly, with this Disease he must only tell the truth. He can’t lie about anything, no matter how minor, and even if he wanted to lie, he wouldn’t be able to because the Disease wouldn’t let him;.

He is obligated to be one-hundred percent truthful, one-hundred percent of the time.

He sticks up for others when they are being tormented, demanding that the other leaves them alone and finds someone else to pick on. He can’t stand seeing others torment his friends.

Ouma becomes very serious and mature, as well as becoming much less eccentric. He is no longer the over-dramatic character that we have all come to know.

He can’t tell when others are lying so he often blindly trusts them and is easily manipulated; he becomes quite oblivious and rather innocent.

And Ouma himself becomes a bit dumb and all of his skills disappear - he turns into an awful liar. Since the Disease won’t let him lie, it makes it obvious when he tries bending the truth so that anyone would be able to read him like a book. 

He’ll start sweating and fidgeting nervously, his voice rises and he looks increasingly uncomfortable and worried. When he gets called out, Ouma will become frantic and shy.

All he wants is for everyone else to remain positive in their situation, taking up a Protagonist-like role in this scenario.

Ouma is also one who becomes really uncomfortable when he’s finally cured. “Damn, I wonder what kinds of secrets I spilled!~” he giggles nonchalantly.

Himiko Yumeno

Energetic Disease

Normal Himiko is quite lazy when it comes to anything but magic, but the Despair Disease flips that. She has a ‘too the max’ personality about anything and everything as she bounces off the walls with energy, but she shows very little interest in magic.

Eventually, she’ll just admit that she isn’t a real Mage and that all of her Magic as well as Magic as a whole is fake, going so far to reveal the secrets behind all of her tricks without a care in the world.

Of course, once she’s finally cured of the Disease she tries casting a ‘Forgetting Spell’ on the others to cover-up her secrets.

When she’s infected, though, Himiko is extremely intelligent and instead of being ‘slow’ she’s normally one of the first people to catch onto suspicious behavior. 

In a lot of ways, her intuition improves and she replaces Saihara as the most valuable student in the Killing Game.

Himiko is always full of bountiful energy, never tired nor is she lazy. She is loud and somewhat crass, always making her presence known.

All she wants is for the others to try their best and can get easily angered, especially when trying to encourage her friends. Himiko is probably the most motivated out of all of them to succeed.

She matures greatly and becomes much more serious, no longer making time for childish things and dropping her whole ‘I’m a Real Mage!’ act. 

Her personality is similar to that of Tenko Chabashira’s real personality in the sense that Himiko has an extreme nature, and she isn’t afraid to go out of her way in hopes of motivating her friends, sometimes coming across as too intense or out of line.

She no longer feels any real need to sleep, and because of this Himiko will be even more tired than usual once she finally does get cured of the Disease. But she can be seen and heard at all hours of the night, often getting nose complaints from her neighbors.

Himiko will become much more talkative as well, and once she starts you really can’t stop her. She just keeps going, and going, and going…

She almost seems annoying to the rest of her peers, her endless energy will drain you if you’re around her for too long.

Rantaro Amami

God-Complex Disease

Before, Rantaro was probably the most ordinary person out of the Cast, and he recognized this. He believed that he was plain in comparison to the rest of the students.

However, now he has a strong God-Complex and sees himself as much higher up than the rest of the participants. The others should bow down to him as far as he’s concerned.

Rantaro places himself on a pedestal and thinks he is much greater than the rest of the students here. Seemingly above average, he views everyone else as scum who should bow down to him and acknowledge his greatness.

He also remembers his talent when infected with the Disease. As a result, this fuels his Complex because, as he sees it, he has survived one of these scenarios in the past therefore he is the most well-off person here.

Rantaro’s love for adventure disappears, though, and he turns into a Homebody in the truest sense. He has no desire to see the world and all he wants to do is escape the Killing Game and make it home. 

His calm, relaxing personality is replaced by an anxious and tense one, to the point where just being around him will make you feel tense as well. He’ll begin to worry and panic about their situation. Rantaro grows impatient and irritable around the others as well.

When this happens, he can lash out and go on a rant about how much better he is than everyone else and how he doesn’t deserve to die here. If anything, he thinks he’s the only one worth anything, therefore he should be the sole survivor.

Rather than trying to be helpful, he accuses everyone else of being suspicious and, rather bluntly, finds everyone else to be mysterious and untrustworthy.

And unlike his usual self, Rantaro becomes a complete and utter womanizer who goes around flirting with any female he comes across. When they don’t reciprocate, he gets angry because “They should be thankful a guy like me is actually talking to them.”

Tenko Chabashira

Timid Disease

Tenko is normally the excitable, loud, boisterous girl that is bursting at the seams with energy. However, this Disease calms her down and rewrites her entire personality.

She becomes much more quiet, gloomy, and aloof. Rather than being loud and obnoxious, Tenko disappears into the back of the room and her classmates usually forget that she’s even there. She is far too timid to approach the others and instead silently observes them from a distance.

She bottles up her emotions rather than freely expressing them and doesn’t let others in on how she feels.

Her talent is rendered useless under the effects of the Despair Disease, because infected-Tenko can’t stand fighting and hates violence. She is quite weak and dependent on others to do things for her. She also doesn’t like seeing others fighting nor does she do so herself.

She actually becomes quite clumsy and gets hurt easily, her body becoming riddled with bruises.

Interestingly enough, her preferences switch as well. She becomes much more inwardly hostile towards other degenerate women, even belittling herself at times for being stuck in a “Weak woman’s body.” 

And on the other hand, Tenko is more than welcoming and warm around the male characters, though, even acting flustered or possibly flirty around them. 

She has to take several showers once she’s cured of the Disease after interacting with the men so much. She also bombards Himiko with apologies for anything that may have been mistakenly said.

Tenko is much more logical, careful and hesitant when it comes to other’s feelings, and she abandons her reckless nature and thinks ahead, sometimes overthinking, and considering every possibility before making a choice instead of rushing into a quick decision.

Kiibo

Impolite Disease

In a lot of ways, infected-Kiibo acts like normal-Kokichi. The pair have jarringly different personalities after all. Typically, Kiibo is very polite and serious, although a bit oblivious at times.

Ironically enough, their roles swap and Kiibo becomes the one constantly harassing Ouma.

But now he often terrorizes and messes with the others for the sole purpose to entertain and amuse himself. Where he used to lack social-behaviors and skills, Kiibo now has no issue socializing but comes across as pretty rude and will say impolite things about the others, driving them away instead.

Unfortunately, his lack of social-awkwardness doesn’t process this so he acts overly-confident around the students.

Kiibo doesn’t take things very seriously and makes a lot of jokes, most of which are crude and based on other’s insecurities or hurting their feelings. A lot of them also seem ‘Human-Phobic’ as Kiibo calls it, but he doesn’t care. It’s fine to be Human-Phobic in his eyes since Robots are so much more advanced anyway.

Obviously, he says a lot of discriminatory and rude things as well, never considering the other person’s feelings. He comes off as blatantly prejudiced towards humans. He also loudly and confidently laughs at discriminatory remarks, gaining a pretty twisted sense of humor, which isn’t anything he would normally condone.

Despite the fact that with this Disease, Kiibo acts less robotic and disregards a lot of the functions that define him and set him apart, and acts more human - or, at least as human as possible.

Kiibo can seem a little bit insensitive and has a ‘Screw everyone else’ attitude. 

It seems to affect him more than the other students, though, so even when he was cured there was still traces of the Disease in his system.

Miu Iruma

Moral Disease

Miu is normally a very crass girl who plays it off like she isn’t afraid of anything, but she gets quite affected whenever someone damages her self esteem or says something crude towards her.

The Despair Disease would only intensify that part of herself, causing her to become quite shy and reluctant to show off her skin, covering her body in any way possible.

Miu would be much more defensive and less hostile afterwards, and her insecurities would flare up as she belittles herself and sees herself as much more inferior than the others.

Morally, she quiets down and becomes much more ethically-sound, getting visibly uncomfortable when sexual things are mentioned and starts preaching about how we should all be more responsible when it comes to our bodies and sexuality, as she insists that we need to suppress our lusty sides and cherish the ‘sacredness’ of our bodies.

Miu still thinks she is below others but isn’t nearly as emotional anymore - rather, she is seen as visibly depressed and dragging herself around. Miu hangs her head down low and doesn’t really look up at the others. 

She keeps all of her negative thoughts internally and is less outwardly emotional and affected by their words.

But if people ignore her, Miu gets obviously irritated and demands that they show her more attention. She becomes much more commanding and less afraid of receiving backlash.

She becomes repulsed by machinery, including Kiibo, and sexual favors, and instead talks only with perfect, proper, and poised speech. She no longer swears or is very vulgar.

Miu cares about what others think more and this makes her much more hesitant to say something, provoking her to think about what she’ll say before it comes spewing out of her mouth.

And as far as her talent goes, Miu will no longer be interested in Inventions nor will she have the mental creativity to come up with them, becoming much lazier and unmotivated.

Kaito Momota

Halfhearted Disease

Until his normal self who is a passionate hopeless romantic, Kaito becomes extremely shy and nervous around girls, especially Maki. Although she’s the one who wants his affection, he is too meek to actually give it to her.

He also finds himself being crude and less than compassionate towards Maki, giving her the cold shoulder instead.

He comes very weak, lazy, and unmotivated. All he wants to do is hide in his room and sleep all day, and Kaito would if he could. Rather than having a workout routine, he becomes flimsy and no longer cares about his body or physical strength.

Kaito also couldn’t care less about the others. He isn’t fazed by the Killing Game and it doesn’t matter to him who lives or who dies - he becomes similar to Kaede in that aspect. He doesn’t have any real motivation to escape the Killing Game and won’t put up much of a fight if his life is on the line.

He becomes terrified of taking risks, much more secluded and reserved. Kaito often avoids the others because he doesn’t want to make contact and fears that he will be rejected, his more socially awkward side peeking through in moments like these. Because of this, he doesn’t want to bring very much attention to himself because he doesn’t think he deserves it, and thinks very little of himself.

Kaito’s ‘hero-type’ disappears and he becomes much more weak-hearted.

Not only that, but he is unreliable and independent. He makes promises he can’t keep and will lie just to make himself look better, which makes it hard for him to keep a real schedule.

He finds crude humor entertaining and has a much more laid-back persona, taking life easy and not worrying about the Killing Game too much. Since he is so carefree and halfhearted, it’s hard to actually anger this Kaito.

However, he is much more anxious than usual and demands validation at all times, stuttering and becoming flustered if he doesn’t receive it. His self-worth plummets to an all-time low and he sees himself as inferior and useless compared to everyone else.

Angie Yonaga

Unfaithful Disease

Angie’s defining characteristic is her religion and faith in her God, Atua. The Despair Disease, on the other hand, completely reverses this and causes her to drop all aspects of religion from her life.

She becomes a very firm Atheist, turning into a God-Fearing woman who goes so far to belittle religion and criticize anyone who chooses to follow it. She often rants about how it’s unnecessary, calling those people of faith ‘nut-jobs.’

And since she no longer follows her religion, she can no longer hear or speak to Atua so her incoherent ramblings don’t occur as often, either.

Funnily enough, her accent also disappears after she gets infected with this Disease, which was quite unexpected.

Angie doesn’t care about the others nearly as much as she used to, if at all. She is no longer the preppy, positive girl who wanted to form a ‘Cult’ to protect the rest of the students. Now, she genuinely couldn’t care less about what happens to them.

Secretly, she puts them before herself and is much more willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good, but she’s far too stubborn to actually admit that.

Angie’s generally cheery side is gone and replaced with a pessimistic personality who believes that they’re all going to end up dead. This wouldn’t be an issue for her in the past, though, since she always believed that she’d go to Atua once she passed away…

But this Angie is petrified of dying and wants to put it off for as long as possible. Rather than being upbeat, she is worried that she will face an early death in this Killing Game.

Instead of smiling all the time, Angie’s expression is more neutral and unimpressed now than before.

She has little interest in art since her art previously revolved around her religion and sacrifices to her God, but now she wouldn’t be able to recognize her art if she saw it. Angie would also probably criticize it for being too religious.

In a way, she feels like everyone is against her and refuses to follow blind faith in others, so Angie becomes much more independent and abandons the friendships she’s made with Gonta and Himiko.

Korekiyo Shinguuji

Friendly Disease

Rather than being aloof, lonesome, andcool-headed, the Disease would make Korekiyo much more outgoing and friendly towards the rest of his peers. He would likely see them as superiors and, in a way, romanticize them so pieces of his true personality would remain the same.

But he would be unnaturally friendly and upbeat, ditching his mask and wearing a large, beaming smile across his lips and walk with a pep in his step. 

It’s a little bit strange and uncomfortable to see Korekiyo act this compassionate towards others.

He consider everyone to be his friend and, like Maki, he would cling onto them, becoming much more dependent rather than isolating himself.

Korekiyo would want nothing more than to entertain the rest of the participants and bring them happiness, purposefully seeking them out and wanting to spend time with them and get to know them better. 

He would fixate on others, seeking out friendships with specific people, and try his best to alleviate their situation.

Normally, Korekiyo thinks with his head and makes much more rational, logical decisions; however, now he would be driven by his emotions and use his heart rather than his mind. This causes him to frantically jump to conclusions.

He cares more for people’s personalities rather than their beauty, so his talent gets twisted a little bit but ultimately remains somewhat similar. He wouldn’t be affected by the Disease as intensely as some of the other students, so parts of him are able to shine through.

Korekiyo lessens the distance between himself and his classmates, caring about them and their safety.

He gets overly excited around the others, and his creepily friendly attitude can easily be mistaken for Korekiyo simply being invasive and far too personal.

He’s still a little bit unsettling, but not in the same way. His other personality sometimes peeks through and speaks for him, but that side of him, too, is affected by the Despair Disease and altered in some way.

Kirumi Tojo

Messy Disease

Kirumi, although she doesn’t like to be recognized this way, is like the motherly figure of the group. Her talent as a Maid gets completely overturned and rewritten after she gets exposed to and infected by the Despair Disease, though.

She becomes much more immature and unprofessional, laughing uncontrollably at the most childish jokes and pranks and even playing minor pranks on the others herself. Things that Kirumi would normally refuse to bat an eye at would now have her doubled-over from pure joy, but maybe that wasn’t an entirely bad thing. 

People have always told her that she needs to ‘loosen up’ after all…

More importantly, she becomes much more messy and unorganized, slacking off from her work and refusing to clean up after herself and others. 

She would have stains all over her Maid uniform and her Dorm Room would look like a disaster area.

Kirumi becomes a lot more dependent on others, when before the other students were dependent on her. She needs someone else to assist her with even the most basic tasks and promotes laziness.

Unlike a good, respectable Maid, Kirumi would become incredibly impolite and rude, especially when someone asked her for help or a favor. She would snap and hiss at them to do it themselves.

She stops caring about herself and really lets herself go. This Disease would cause her to become a ‘slob’ in every sense of the world, and she wouldn’t be able to take herself seriously once she did finally get cured.

Kirumi becomes untrustworthy and sketchy rather than the responsible, parental figure that everyone was used to. But she would never commit an immoral act like murder, which is something that actually stays the same as far as her values go.

However, despite her messiness Kirumi will view herself as being above average and demand respect in a very frantic and desperate way.

Gonta Gokuhara                    

Angry Disease

Normal-Gonta would be ashamed of what the Despair Disease does to him. He wouldn’t be able to look at his own reflection for weeks.

It turns him crass and rude, instead of the caring and considerate Gentleman that we all know and love.

Although Gonta would gain an intelligence boost and comprehend things much easier, he wouldn’t always use it beneficially. 

He would become easily angered by the things he is now able to understand, even more-so since the weight of the Killing Game is just now making sense to him.

No longer patient and soft-hearted, Gonta will become absolutely enraged by even the smallest things and becomes more prone to breaking things and using his sheer brute strength against both his classmates and his surroundings.

Gonta will become much more competent, therefore resulting in him being a compulsive liar who refuses to help the others if he doesn’t gain any benefit from it. 

He will lash out easily, much more irritable than before. And Gonta is quite scary and intimidating when he gets angry, completely contrasting the sweet and innocent boy that his class is used to. He can and will threaten you, even using his strength as a gambling chip.

And he becomes much more prone to getting into physical fights, sizing up to his other classmates or even challenging them to fights. If he gets really angry, he’ll start swinging and let his anger out on whatever stands in his way.

Becoming a Gentleman is no longer at the top of Gonta’s priorities and be becomes much more selfish and lets his own desires get in the way of what he should do and what’s right.

In some sense, he thinks of himself as being higher up now. The selfishness shifts his mind into believing that others should respect him, putting himself first every time. Because of this, Gonta stops caring about his classmates in this situation.

The Despair Disease does weaken Gonta, but not as much as you’d think. He still has average strength and enough muscle so that he will pack a punch regardless, especially when enraged. 

Tsumugi Shirogane

Disobedient Disease

Tsumugi is secretly quite smart, considering she is the Mastermind behind their entire situation. But even she isn’t immune to the affects of the Despair Disease - plus, it would look suspicious if she was the only one who wasn’t infected by it,

Tsumugi afterwards would be a little bit ‘dumbed-down’ to say the least. She would act more air-headed and clueless, especially to who the Mastermind could possibly be.

She typically thinks she is pretty plain, so afterwards she would also be much more lively and eccentric, and unafraid to really put herself out there as much. 

She would gain a lot of confidence but would also become much more snarky and snippy towards the others, often times going off on them and losing her temper.

Tsumugi isn’t bothered by Cospox since the Despair Disease cancels its effects out, so she isn’t afraid to strut around in her sexiest cosplay.

Overall, she is much more reckless and carefree now. She is more likely to make dangerous or hasty decisions, without fear of the possible consequences.

The Mastermind within her comes out more easily, so Tsumugi has to be careful and find a balance between her true reserved nature and hidden reckless side so that she doesn’t accidentally expose herself. 

But she could easily use other drugs to cause Confusion or Amnesia among the group if needed.

She somewhat loses interest in the Killing Game and disobeys authority when infected, temporarily disregarding her duties as a Mastermind and having a bit of fun while she’s still here.

However, she wouldn’t get infected with the same amount as the rest of her class, so the effects wouldn’t bother her as intensely, and Tsumugi would still be able to act under her own free-will to some extent.

Ryoma Hoshi

Hopeful Disease

Even though Ryoma insists that he is the ‘Shell of the man he once was,’ the Despair Disease would not revert him back to his normal state. Instead, his entire personality would change, showing that maybe he isn’t so different from his ‘previous self’ after all.

Ryoma would become panicky and cautious over every small detail, defending himself even when that was unnecessary and keeping his guard up at all times. He would also be overwrought and nervous, his skin crawling with fear as he worries that he might be the next victim.

He gets easily shaken up and can freak out over the smallest incidences, but Ryoma remains vigilant and blindly hopeful in their situation.

He would become very soft and sweet towards the others, offering warm and reassuring smiles even to those who don’t want them and he would do his best to encourage the others to find the truth. All he wants is to work together towards finding the Mastermind.

Ryoma, despite remaining suspicious of others, would get as close as possible to the other participants and form bonds with those who were willing. He would want to make friends in this situation, more than welcoming to the rest of the group.

He seems a bit delusional, happy-go-lucky and idealistic even in the Killing Game. Even when things look bad, Ryoma would remain as positive as possible, spreading hope to his other classmates.

With the Motives involving a Time-Limit, he would be the last person willing to sacrifice themselves - he’s simply too afraid of dying and not humble or courageous enough to go through with that. Deep down, he has hope that there is another way out of this.

His normal-self doesn’t act upon or show feelings too often, but he would be a bit more sexual and make more innuendos than before.

Ryoma fantasizes about his future a lot, and is actually excited and desperate to survive this Killing Game.

- Mod Rantaro

[iraklismytridis]

 Lightworker Extraordinaire:

Part of the Negative Agenda on Earth is desensitizing humanity to violance and sexualizing every single thing, the target being children.

Creating a mindset where violence and sex are “main stream” and “normal” – even combining to add violent sex, all while preaching in religion that you will go to hell – is an illumaniti sex attack. It gets you to consent to both and both through media and street theater, while teaching you that it is SIN.

“If everyone else is living in sin, then I will too.” Is how people consent because mind control has you seeing in black and white.

Violence means violating innocence

Therefore you can see why the agenda includes desensitizing to violence and distorting the sexual nature of humanity all together.

To destroy innocence one simply has to attack the essence of what makes one innocent – their purity.

Innocence is purity – it’s honest, it’s true, it’s love, it feels safe.

Purity is authentic, genuine and real

Intimacy – into me I see

Innocence doesn’t have fear, it is love.

Intimacy is love of self and others with no fear based attachments

Sex is sacred.

Violence is cursed.

Combine them and you have a species with a cursed sexual nature.

Cursed means to punish by causing harm.

The Illuminati sex attack or the negative agenda of causing sexual misery on earth is about creating a reality where intimacy and innocence are lost to violence and fear, which causes ego attachments to inanimate objects that only money can buy – that will never fill the void

It’s to cause harm to intimacy and innocence and punish one by the belief you are going to hell.

So which one do you believe?

Do you choose to be like everyone else – especially false idols of Hollywood and engage in violence and sex, then believe you’re going to hell?

Or do you live pure and believe your are going to heaven?

Here’s the truth –

It has nothing to do with heaven or hell.

The agenda is to destroy your life here in the now.

Violence against others is NEVER ok.

And if you choose to be sacred sexually or open sexually is your choice – neither one gets you to heaven or hell

However, by destroying and harming the love bond that sex is intended for – by making sex a fear based activity open to share with anyone – you stay in hell here on earth.

Intimacy – into me I see – is uninhibited with a sacred partner – with another out of love – it was turned into inhibited with many others out of fear.

The divine living law is designed for you to experience heaven on Earth – not after death.

So when you make a choice – remember its not about after death – it’s about NOW.

Me: Ivo, I put up a short video the other day on my Fb feed and many loved it but one person laughed at it. I saw this was a new follower and I wondered what he could’ve found to be so humorous about a very seriously intended video. But then I thought, “Maybe he’s interpreting this as a message about sexual excitement.” I thought about it and decided it was worth doing a video on this because I’m sure this is only one of the ways that our life energy is being channeled into some very limited expression. Can you explain this, Ivo?

Ivo: Yes, my love. You said, ” Then Athena told me this: that the reason it excites you is because you’re doing it.” Also when you hear the words “doing it” what do people immediately think about? Sex. Excitement, passion and “doing it” are all terms you use that funnel your energies into sexual activity. Sex has taken on a cheap meaning in your society. Instead of being the illustrious energetic exchange between the divine masculine and the divine feminine which is an enactment of the entirety of interaction of energy in the universe, instead of being coveted as the act of divine creation of new life – your interpretation of intercourse and sexual activity has been relegated to bar bathrooms, payment to prostitutes, cheap nude or semi-nude poses in magazines and supposed “adult” humor which indicates no maturity at all.

Your sexual interpretation, without the divine feminine on your planet, is dominated by the dark father archetype, which is held by both males and females.

Me: I knew you’d explain it better!

Ivo: Your people interpret so many things in terms of sexual excitement because for so many who are mind controlled, sex is the only excitement you know of. When you are your authentic self, you find life itself to be passionate, exciting, rejuvenating, and a constant source of awe.

Can you say the same for life on earth now?

Me: No! LOL

Ivo: Your values reflect your captors’, your controllers’, not those of a true human being. For us, every breath we take is a joyous occasion. Every interaction with others an exchange of loving energy. Every act of helping an earthling is celebrated in the heavens. We revere life. You know this.

Me: Yes. I’ve been told. Angels have trumpets too.

Ivo: Our lives are like sweet music to our ears. We love to get up and live. Just being is an momentous occasion every day. So it stands to reason that we understand there is passion in all of life, not just a low frequency energetic exchange between two mind-controlled people.

And yes, my love, the point is, this is being done to you to rob you of the wonderment of being alive. The fact that there is anger and depression upon your planet indicates you are not in alignment with life. You are in alignment with death.

It is hard for you to be passionate about life when you are not aligned with your soul. When you look at life from the standpoint of an ego in an over-sexualized society, life is cheap. It is valueless to you. And your perspective shows that.

Me: True.

Ivo: It is not prudish to not want to play along with those who use innuendo to bait their next sexual conquest. And understand that sexual exchange is not about conquest, it is about connection. Those who feel it is an act of conquest are dominators of the false toxic masculine variety. Ideally, they should be avoided and starved out to hopefully wake up to the true reality of love and sexual interaction before it is too late for them.

Me: Thank you Ivo.

Ivo: My love, you understand and are waking up to all that you must know in order to thrive even on your planet. It is a question of leaving the old behind.

[anotherscenarioblog]

My Muse| Zhang Yixing

genre: highschool!au/smut/fluff/art

warnings: Nude Painting/Sex

authors note: I love this plot and I hope I did it well? :/

Zhang Yixing, whenever I saw him it was never his face since he always had his head tucked away in a book, sketching or painting anything and everything he found beautiful. It was common talk among girls that he found none of us attractive because he had drawn other women but never anyone in our school and we all just agreed with it because any other explanation would cause a ripple in the already existent cliques. Girls always tried to talk to Yixing but he would just smile at them and give a simple reply or be too caught up painting to even notice there was someone trying to talk to him.

The same went for the guys. He never spoke to any of them. Always tucked away in his drawing pad and never socializing. Not that the guys minded of course; jealous of the fact that all of their crushes were crushing on him. Yixing and I never really spoke but we would often catch the other staring at us which led to a shy smile or immediately looking away pretending we were doing class work all along. The closest we had once come to socializing was when we had sat together on the bus. Yixing gave me a small smile with a “Hi” and I did the same back. 

There were no other words spoken but there were many glances at each other which were followed by smiles but no conversation.Not an ideal love life but it was good enough for me. Currently we’re at English class and Yixing just started a new drawing. The worst part? No one knows what he’s drawing. He refuses to show anyone his precious drawing pad but he tells everyone they’re free to see his canvases in the Art Room. Yeah, great. The canvases which were graded for art class. I’d love to see that. Again. I stole a glance at Yixing and saw him hurriedly sketching away. I shook my head lightly and turned away trying to focus on the poem in front of me. 

The bell rang and I was packing my bags when I felt someone behind me. I turned around and saw Yixing looking flustered,standing in front of me “Yi-” I was cut off. “Wi-Will you.. um.. No.. I mean yes um..” Yixing shook his head and rushed out of the room not completing his sentence. “Wait Yix-” I huffed. He had already run out. I looked over at his desk and his sketch pad was lying there, frayed at the sides. I picked it up. “I should give this back to him” I mumbled out heading out of class but then curiosity got to me. I slowly flipped open to the first page. Okay this isn’t anything out of the ordinary. Just a regular vase and fruit basket sketch. Flipping through more pages they were all just sceneries and inanimate objects. I flipped to the next page and my heart almost stopped.

There was a sketch of me with my head in my books. I hurriedly flipped to the next page, it was one of me staring out the window, next page: me with my head in my hands. Then it became fictitious. Yixing and I walking through a park… hand in hand… Me on our first date? Or maybe just dinner. My heart was thudding realizing that Zhang Yixing chose to draw me and I couldn’t help but smile really widely. I heard footsteps rush into the classroom. I looked up and saw Yixing staring at me. My grin falls and I stare back. He takes long strides and snatched the book from my hands “You weren’t supposed to see that” and turned back before rushing out of the classroom when he let out a “I’m sorry (Y/N). Please don’t hate me.”

I felt my heart clench. Dammit. Why was he so nice all the time. I didn’t hate the drawings at all. I rushed out of the room and looked down the corridor but he was nowhere in sight. I sighed. I’ll find him eventually. I hope? Fast forward it had been a week and Yixing had managed to successfully avoid me the entire time we were i school. I was getting frustrated. Goddammit Yixing. But today… Luck struck me. I was getting onto the bus and the only available seat was next to Yixing. I hurriedly made my way over to ensure that no one else could sit there and Yixing became increasingly more fidgety the closer I got. I plopped myself down next to him and he immediately turned towards the window his cheeks turning a bright red.

“Please don’t avoid me” I mumbled. Yixing’s head turned to me. “You aren’t mad?” Yixing asked hesitantly. “I really liked the drawings.I just wanted to say that, The next stop is mine so..um..see you? ” I gripped the edge of the seat getting up from my place when I felt him grab my wrist. My eyes snapped towards him. “Tomorrow, my place…Can I paint you? But bare?” He asked his eyes pleading but face a bright red. I widened my eyes, “B-Bare?” I asked. His eyes widened and he let go of my hand. “No um, it doesn’t matter,stupid question haha. Bye Bye (Y/N)!” He said looking away quickly and ending the conversation. I bit my lip heading towards the exit when I called out. “Yixing! I’ll see you after school tomorrow!” His head snapped towards me but I immediately exited the bus after; my face burning. 

I couldn’t focus at all the rest of today. I was nervous,excited and embarrassed all at once regarding tomorrow and I spent majority of the day squealing and burying my face in my hands. Did I actually just agree to that? Oh lord help me. I decided to give up and plopped myself on my bed trying to fall asleep. If only my heart would let me.I wasn’t focused in class the next day, at all. Neither was Yixing I assumed cause both of us got glares from the same teachers for not paying attention. The school bell seemed to ring at an interval of 2 minutes and they day was already over and I waited by my locker fiddling with my fingers; trying to calm myself down.

I saw Yixing’s figure turning down the hallway and he slowly approached me. “Hey” I said looking down. “Shall we go?” Yixing asked smiling softly. I nodded as he gripped my hand and both of us walked towards the exit. We walked together down different lanes towards his house. “Don’t you take the bus home?” I inquired. “To work actually” he replied. He unlocked the door once we reached and I walked inside. A simple apartment, quite clean and a slight mess around the coffee table. “I usually paint in my room” Yixing mumbled avoiding my gaze. I nodded reminded of why I was here. 

I followed him to his room. I gasped softly when I looked at the wall. It was covered in different canvases of different people… some babies, a middle aged woman who I assumed was his mother and portraits of other random women,men and families. "They’re beautiful" I sighed smiling at them. “Thank you” he smiled shyly. “So.. um.. do I?” I trailed off unsure about what to do next. “Oh um, you can get undressed in the bathroom and cover yourself with a towel till I’m ready to start”.  I nodded doing as he said and sat on his bed covered in only a towel. I watched him go around his room picking up some paints, a pencil and whatever else he required. “I’m done” he said his face turning bright red. I nodded hesitating a bit. 

“You don’t have to..” Yixing said softly. I shook my head taking the towel off. Yixing gulped slightly. “Lie on the bed” I nodded laying on the bed. I felt cold and nervous and also slightly embarrassed. I kept looking anywhere but Yixing’s eyes. I felt my nipples harden through the cold but I bit my lip and let it be. I ficused on Yixing’s face when he wasn’t gazing at me. When Yixing worked it looked so dignified. He was focused, inspired and didn’t waver once.  His hands flew across the canvas and I couldn’t make out anything except his jawline and the way his tongue was stuck out in concentration. Our gazes caught each other. 

But we didn’t look away. Yixing licked his lips staring at me properly for the first time. His hands looked over my body and I couldn’t help but look away in embarrassment. I felt him drop the paintbrush into the container and he walked over towards me. He took my wrist and placed it closer to my hair, him leaning in closer. His lips brushed my ear. “You look so beautiful” he mumbled pulling away . “Stay in that position okay?” He mumbled, looking into my eyes. I nodded but both of us weren’t moving. Yixing’s gaze flickered to my lips and back up. The tension was slowly building.

“Kiss me.” I breathed out. Yixing spent no time waiting. His lips connected with mine and his hand came to grip my waist. I gripped his shirt trying to unbutton it and pull it off his shoulders. He pulled his shirt off and his lips touched mine again. I placed my palm against his clearly sculpted abs and the other one on his shoulder. “Yixing-” I mumbled but his lips attached to mine again. He held himself above me while I fumbled with the button on his jeans. Slowly that was tugged off and he was left in his plain boxers. Yixing’s lips connected with my collarbone as he left slow kisses along the bone and my neck making one little bruise with his lips.

I felt myself becoming even wetter with the gaze Yixing gave me as I let out a soft moan. “Why did I wait so long” Yixing groaned his fingers trailing down my stomach before reaching my core and he began running circles around my clit. I let out little moans gripping Yixing’s shoulders. He pushed one finger in stretching me slightly and I let out a slight gasp. I took some time getting used to the feeling while he added another finger slowly pushing in and out. “Please, more” I breathe out. Yixing shook his head smiling before tugging his boxers off. My eyes widened at his length before I looked back up at him. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry” Yixing said kissing my forehead. He rolled on a condom and I nodded urging him to go on. 

Yixing slowly pushed himself into me. One hand supporting himself and the other holding mine. I whimpered slightly at the stretch but Yixing reassured me by rubbing his thumb against my hand. I gripped his shoulders and nodded for him to move once I adjusted. Yixing thrusted once and kept his slow pace until I adjusted and urged him to go faster “Please Yixing, Faster” I moaned out bringing my hips up to his. Yixing nodded pushing himself in and out of me faster than before and was making sure I wasn’t feeling uncomfortable throughout any of it. “You really are so beautiful (Y/N).” Yixing breathed out smiling at me not letting go of my hand the whole time. I felt my face heat up slightly.

“Are you close?” Yixing asked, I nodded. Yixing increased the pace a bit trying to bring both of us to our highs. “I’m-I’m close” I cried out burying my face into his neck. He nodded, “Almost babe, Almost.” I cried out feeling myself come undone. Yixing soon came after me and we both panted, him still on top of me. I gave him a shy smile and he let out a chuckle. “I liked that.” He said with a small laugh again. I nodded. “Maybe you should paint me more often?” I suggested laughing. “Forever and Always.” He kissed me softly on the lips before laying next to me and pulling me into him and covering us with the sheets.

 “My Muse, sleep well" 

_____________________________________________________

So, that ended? hehe. I hope you guys liked it and Painter!Xing as well and will show your love to this blog too and this story!! ^.^

Love Always, Admin Peter Pan

[wendyimmiller]

Looking for Something More Positive

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

Rain. Glorious rain!

The exclamation point is, I assure you, fully justified. After three and a half weeks without the stuff and without piped water to my sunniest gardens, I had reached a point of exhaustion and had begun the process of separation.

Last year and the year before were the years to plant trees – and I did. But this year, I finally had time to put in the thuja hedge. Now it’s being kept on life support by milk jugs schlepped up from the creek. How wonderful that the crab grass and creeping charlie seem undaunted.

I know you are familiar with this gardener’s trick of self-preservation. Just stop looking at the things that upset you so that they in effect, disappear. My inherited 100ft Long Bed currently requires a machete, pith helmet and vaccine certificate to enter, but by simply turning my head left instead of right when I exit the back door, the issue is solved until winter takes a crack at it.

Douglas Adams wrote of something similar in his Hitchhiker’s series – advocating the use of a towel over one’s head to successfully protect the wearer from seeing anything dangerous.  And I am successfully using something similar with my mirror these days – you do not have that many years on me you know.

I touched upon this August feeling of exhaustion/annoyance two weeks ago on my own website – pulling no punches – only to have a subscriber withdraw her reading services, citing “Looking for something more positive.”

Oh how I wanted to reply to her – breaking no doubt, sixteen Mailchimp covenants and sworn oaths of privacy – to say “My friend and fellow gardener, this IS positive. It’s the perfectly packaged pap from the everything-is-okay-I’m-doing-awesome-having-it-all-#BestLifeEver crowd that you should be avoiding.  We’re all in this together – it sure as hell helps if someone is truthful about it.”

I refrained. But I did get a giggle when Anne Wareham of The Vedww House Garden commented “Still knackered – I measure this by how many times a day I say f… off to an inanimate object.” Wonderful.

I believe you are dry in the Midwest too this year – isn’t it annoying to find ourselves more dependent on the wet stuff than we wish to be? And that’s just the vodka gin and tonics. The despair attached to a long cool spring and mostly rainless summer in a year where I am writing and photographing a book on tropical plants has necessitated a few more visits to the drinks cabinet than are advocated by those that officially advocate these things.

Fresh flowers on the drinks cabinet keeps the intoxication process civilized.

Some mornings I can feel the ghost of Beth Chatto hovering over me and my watering cans as I slop warm rainwater over sandaled, gritty toes and give Anne at The Vedww something to strive for in graduate level Creative Swearing.

Hearkening back to our discussion of gardeners you do not care to read, but don’t mind slagging off, Chatto championed the idea of planting specifically for drought tolerance.  When I last visited the Beth Chatto Garden in East Anglia two years ago, they had received all of 13 inches of rain by the end of August, and the gravel garden (built over the remains of a car park) had not had a drop of supplemental water. It was a hot summer certainly, but that area of England is particularly dry in the best of years.

Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden in August 2018

Chatto’s ghost chastises me for planting choices made in wetter years.  I’d offer her a coffee, but she has so many gardeners to chastise on her morning rounds there’s no time for a chat. Should she stay, I’m ashamed to say I would begin the discussion with an excuse — having been instructed throughout my gardening career not to.

“The difficulty with my garden,” I would say (How many sentences begin thus? I have heard hundreds myself.) “is that I live in a wooded stream valley.”

She would look at me blankly – in that way the British are so good at – in the way my militant (but beloved) godmother used to – politely waiting for the actual problem. And I would instantly feel ashamed of myself and get back to water slopping and some menial weeding.

Hypothetical one-sided discussion over.

Not that I wouldn’t continue to feel sorry for myself, chastised and muttering into the crabgrass.  For I am a gardener and that is what gardeners do. There is an enormous amount of energy spent feeling sorry for ourselves.  A dry season, a deer feast, a late spring freeze, a child on a mower. Poor Anne and Charles at The Vedww lost one massive yew in an established hedge to a dripping tap and I want to shake my fist at the Heavens for them – I can’t imagine how cosmically wronged they feel.

Ah! The glories we could achieve were it not for [X]!  The vegetables we could grow were it not for [Y]! The excuse-free year we would have were it not for [Z]!  I could go on, but I have an excuse to finish illustrating for you and demons compel me…

A wooded stream valley means free draining alluvial soils worthy of a Mediterranean garden…were it not for the 90 foot tulip poplars meting out sunlight like a miserly king. And then there’s the cold air that trips and tumbles down the hillsides to pool over my expensive zone-pushers.  Lavender without the sun. Ferns without the moisture. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink…

A drone photo in May shows part of the lower garden, but more importantly, shows the surrounding woods lurking like Fangorn Forest. Minus the Ents.

It is a paradox that can only be solved by the time and effort needed to amend the soils and figure out what works and what won’t. Beyond the Japanese Stilt Grass, which couldn’t be happier.

During this dry year, it is tempting to allow the survivors to slip quietly into dormancy. With COVID bells sounding and everything off the calendar, including tours of my garden by highly opinionated gardeners tsking and tutting between mouthfuls of quiche and cheap plonk, I have questioned the need (for instance) to keep watering containerized color for my eyes only.  Further existential questions such as “What is it all for?” or “Is there a purpose to all this suffering?” or “Why the hell did I wait to put in that thuja hedge until THIS year?” have been springing from my lips just as often has Anne has been abusing her inanimate objects.

Now it is you who are no doubt looking for something more positive. Forgive me.  I am in an August state of mind and there is nothing like it. August will try the very soul of you. How many new, excited 20-something gardeners have met their Waterloo in August and fled back to more pleasurable ways of abusing their bodies and minds?

There I go again.  This is getting grim quickly.  You might as well be writing this letter.  Let me attempt to redeem myself with something profound: Adversity refocuses the lens of necessity.

This perhaps is the most positive lesson coming out of all this mess, by which I mean the COVID emergency, the dry summer, and the non-stop political wars:  The perspective it gives on the importance of the garden.  Not the garden in a particular moment in time mind you (glorious May, damnable August), but the garden in general. The necessity of the garden.

Space to breathe, a place to think, inanimate objects to abuse without recrimination.  I am very grateful for that.

I love the color and resilience of the Sombrero series of Echinacea too – Granada Gold is perhaps my favorite (though this is an early season photo), followed by ‘Baja Burgundy’

‘Baja Burgundy’ Echinacea

I have also been made more aware of the things I don’t need – like that containerized color in a far off part of the garden, extra pots of cuttings to water that will never find a home this season, clearance plants at deep discounts that will cost me dearly in sweat trying to revive them during a cruel summer.  It is a freeing state of mind.

I was so very thankful recently to a professional gardener on a social media page who took an honest picture of plants heading to the compost pile in the back of a truck because he hadn’t the staff to plant them, much less water them after the COVID mess.  He also had zero time to find homes for them all and arrange pick up etc… (yes, this takes time!).  He was saddened, but realistic.

I submit such honesty as “something more positive.” We all know we’re going to keep working with plants.  We all live, breathe and sleep it.  But to pretend the difficulties don’t get us down? That creates unrealistic expectations for others (particularly beginners) that may result in them chucking it all before they have had a chance to thoroughly swallow the hook.

Should we wallow? I do not believe this to be helpful either.  But a well balanced mix of good with bad is better I think than broad August smiles proclaiming truths one knows to be lies.

Now for “something more [overtly] positive”…

With August’s arrival, the tropicals are coming into their own, which is why I adore them and have spent the first half of this year slouched in front of my laptop trying to communicate why we should all have a tropical love affair or two.  They are heavy drinkers of course (you’d get on splendidly), but sometimes I am amazed by what I can get away with wielding only a watering can.

Ensete and ‘Bengal Tiger’ canna against a burgeoning ‘Baby Lace’ hydrangea.

In the early evening when I walk the garden in a better frame of mind, they magically transfer their enthusiasm for heat and humidity to the temperate shrubs and perennials who are flagging. A bit like that guest at the party who comes late, mixes up a new cocktail, commandeers the playlist and gets everybody moving again.  We’ll all have a hell of a hangover digging rhizomes in the fall, but damn, it will be worth it.

You simply can’t beat the instant effect of tropical foliage. This little pond area is five weeks old and looked like hell in June.

Thank you by the way for your last letter which elicited a belly laugh of the best kind. You are too rich in your praise – I can assure you it is undeserved.  I am merely an extrovert who enjoys the natural introversion of academics – and would happily sign my life away to sitting in a common room discussing Zingiberaceae over a subsidized beer if I didn’t have to literally sign my life away to another round of crippling student loans.

Been there. Done that.  If I had a rich uncle I’d be doing it again. So I read. And I study. And I tour. My garden is my lab. Minus the subsidized beer.  And the piercings.

However. Do not think for one minute I am not on to you and your cleverly-chosen avatar of Underdog. That is a strategic place to lurk, and you pull it off well.  I can only come off as harsh and unsympathetic in comparison.  I will remind you that I did once sit through one of your interminable lectures (the one where you weren’t attacking me), and you are fooling no one with the “I’m just an average, at best, student” shtick.

The Pity-The-Poor-Midwesterner routine is also particularly shrewd (esp. as anti-coastal bias is popular and I am creature of not one, but two); but I’ve seen the black, beautiful soils out there. You could throw a pack of cigarettes on the ground and sprout tobacco. Who needs mountains and oceans with fertility like that?

Yes. You are good at what you do. But do seek therapy at once.

Yours,

Marianne

P.S.  My version of too much gin at age 15 and the dirty asphalt of a drive-in right off the Mosteller Road exit in Sharonville, Ohio, is tequilla in a little town in Norway at 18. No asphalt.  Cannot touch the stuff now…double-vision fjords come flooding back. Thank God social media didn’t exist when we were young & supple, eh?

Looking for Something More Positive originally appeared on GardenRant on August 6, 2020.

The post Looking for Something More Positive appeared first on GardenRant.

from Gardening https://www.gardenrant.com/2020/08/looking-for-something-more-positive.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[turfandlawncare]

Looking for Something More Positive

Lovettsville, VA

Dear Scott,

Rain. Glorious rain!

The exclamation point is, I assure you, fully justified. After three and a half weeks without the stuff and without piped water to my sunniest gardens, I had reached a point of exhaustion and had begun the process of separation.

Last year and the year before were the years to plant trees – and I did. But this year, I finally had time to put in the thuja hedge. Now it’s being kept on life support by milk jugs schlepped up from the creek. How wonderful that the crab grass and creeping charlie seem undaunted.

I know you are familiar with this gardener’s trick of self-preservation. Just stop looking at the things that upset you so that they in effect, disappear. My inherited 100ft Long Bed currently requires a machete, pith helmet and vaccine certificate to enter, but by simply turning my head left instead of right when I exit the back door, the issue is solved until winter takes a crack at it.

Douglas Adams wrote of something similar in his Hitchhiker’s series – advocating the use of a towel over one’s head to successfully protect the wearer from seeing anything dangerous.  And I am successfully using something similar with my mirror these days – you do not have that many years on me you know.

I touched upon this August feeling of exhaustion/annoyance two weeks ago on my own website – pulling no punches – only to have a subscriber withdraw her reading services, citing “Looking for something more positive.”

Oh how I wanted to reply to her – breaking no doubt, sixteen Mailchimp covenants and sworn oaths of privacy – to say “My friend and fellow gardener, this IS positive. It’s the perfectly packaged pap from the everything-is-okay-I’m-doing-awesome-having-it-all-#BestLifeEver crowd that you should be avoiding.  We’re all in this together – it sure as hell helps if someone is truthful about it.”

I refrained. But I did get a giggle when Anne Wareham of The Vedww House Garden commented “Still knackered – I measure this by how many times a day I say f… off to an inanimate object.” Wonderful.

I believe you are dry in the Midwest too this year – isn’t it annoying to find ourselves more dependent on the wet stuff than we wish to be? And that’s just the vodka gin and tonics. The despair attached to a long cool spring and mostly rainless summer in a year where I am writing and photographing a book on tropical plants has necessitated a few more visits to the drinks cabinet than are advocated by those that officially advocate these things.

Fresh flowers on the drinks cabinet keeps the intoxication process civilized.

Some mornings I can feel the ghost of Beth Chatto hovering over me and my watering cans as I slop warm rainwater over sandaled, gritty toes and give Anne at The Vedww something to strive for in graduate level Creative Swearing.

Hearkening back to our discussion of gardeners you do not care to read, but don’t mind slagging off, Chatto championed the idea of planting specifically for drought tolerance.  When I last visited the Beth Chatto Garden in East Anglia two years ago, they had received all of 13 inches of rain by the end of August, and the gravel garden (built over the remains of a car park) had not had a drop of supplemental water. It was a hot summer certainly, but that area of England is particularly dry in the best of years.

Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden in August 2018

Chatto’s ghost chastises me for planting choices made in wetter years.  I’d offer her a coffee, but she has so many gardeners to chastise on her morning rounds there’s no time for a chat. Should she stay, I’m ashamed to say I would begin the discussion with an excuse — having been instructed throughout my gardening career not to.

“The difficulty with my garden,” I would say (How many sentences begin thus? I have heard hundreds myself.) “is that I live in a wooded stream valley.”

She would look at me blankly – in that way the British are so good at – in the way my militant (but beloved) godmother used to – politely waiting for the actual problem. And I would instantly feel ashamed of myself and get back to water slopping and some menial weeding.

Hypothetical one-sided discussion over.

Not that I wouldn’t continue to feel sorry for myself, chastised and muttering into the crabgrass.  For I am a gardener and that is what gardeners do. There is an enormous amount of energy spent feeling sorry for ourselves.  A dry season, a deer feast, a late spring freeze, a child on a mower. Poor Anne and Charles at The Vedww lost one massive yew in an established hedge to a dripping tap and I want to shake my fist at the Heavens for them – I can’t imagine how cosmically wronged they feel.

Ah! The glories we could achieve were it not for [X]!  The vegetables we could grow were it not for [Y]! The excuse-free year we would have were it not for [Z]!  I could go on, but I have an excuse to finish illustrating for you and demons compel me…

A wooded stream valley means free draining alluvial soils worthy of a Mediterranean garden…were it not for the 90 foot tulip poplars meting out sunlight like a miserly king. And then there’s the cold air that trips and tumbles down the hillsides to pool over my expensive zone-pushers.  Lavender without the sun. Ferns without the moisture. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink…

A drone photo in May shows part of the lower garden, but more importantly, shows the surrounding woods lurking like Fangorn Forest. Minus the Ents.

It is a paradox that can only be solved by the time and effort needed to amend the soils and figure out what works and what won’t. Beyond the Japanese Stilt Grass, which couldn’t be happier.

During this dry year, it is tempting to allow the survivors to slip quietly into dormancy. With COVID bells sounding and everything off the calendar, including tours of my garden by highly opinionated gardeners tsking and tutting between mouthfuls of quiche and cheap plonk, I have questioned the need (for instance) to keep watering containerized color for my eyes only.  Further existential questions such as “What is it all for?” or “Is there a purpose to all this suffering?” or “Why the hell did I wait to put in that thuja hedge until THIS year?” have been springing from my lips just as often has Anne has been abusing her inanimate objects.

Now it is you who are no doubt looking for something more positive. Forgive me.  I am in an August state of mind and there is nothing like it. August will try the very soul of you. How many new, excited 20-something gardeners have met their Waterloo in August and fled back to more pleasurable ways of abusing their bodies and minds?

There I go again.  This is getting grim quickly.  You might as well be writing this letter.  Let me attempt to redeem myself with something profound: Adversity refocuses the lens of necessity.

This perhaps is the most positive lesson coming out of all this mess, by which I mean the COVID emergency, the dry summer, and the non-stop political wars:  The perspective it gives on the importance of the garden.  Not the garden in a particular moment in time mind you (glorious May, damnable August), but the garden in general. The necessity of the garden.

Space to breathe, a place to think, inanimate objects to abuse without recrimination.  I am very grateful for that.

I love the color and resilience of the Sombrero series of Echinacea too – Granada Gold is perhaps my favorite (though this is an early season photo), followed by ‘Baja Burgundy’

‘Baja Burgundy’ Echinacea

I have also been made more aware of the things I don’t need – like that containerized color in a far off part of the garden, extra pots of cuttings to water that will never find a home this season, clearance plants at deep discounts that will cost me dearly in sweat trying to revive them during a cruel summer.  It is a freeing state of mind.

I was so very thankful recently to a professional gardener on a social media page who took an honest picture of plants heading to the compost pile in the back of a truck because he hadn’t the staff to plant them, much less water them after the COVID mess.  He also had zero time to find homes for them all and arrange pick up etc… (yes, this takes time!).  He was saddened, but realistic.

I submit such honesty as “something more positive.” We all know we’re going to keep working with plants.  We all live, breathe and sleep it.  But to pretend the difficulties don’t get us down? That creates unrealistic expectations for others (particularly beginners) that may result in them chucking it all before they have had a chance to thoroughly swallow the hook.

Should we wallow? I do not believe this to be helpful either.  But a well balanced mix of good with bad is better I think than broad August smiles proclaiming truths one knows to be lies.

Now for “something more [overtly] positive”…

With August’s arrival, the tropicals are coming into their own, which is why I adore them and have spent the first half of this year slouched in front of my laptop trying to communicate why we should all have a tropical love affair or two.  They are heavy drinkers of course (you’d get on splendidly), but sometimes I am amazed by what I can get away with wielding only a watering can.

Ensete and ‘Bengal Tiger’ canna against a burgeoning ‘Baby Lace’ hydrangea.

In the early evening when I walk the garden in a better frame of mind, they magically transfer their enthusiasm for heat and humidity to the temperate shrubs and perennials who are flagging. A bit like that guest at the party who comes late, mixes up a new cocktail, commandeers the playlist and gets everybody moving again.  We’ll all have a hell of a hangover digging rhizomes in the fall, but damn, it will be worth it.

You simply can’t beat the instant effect of tropical foliage. This little pond area is five weeks old and looked like hell in June.

Thank you by the way for your last letter which elicited a belly laugh of the best kind. You are too rich in your praise – I can assure you it is undeserved.  I am merely an extrovert who enjoys the natural introversion of academics – and would happily sign my life away to sitting in a common room discussing Zingiberaceae over a subsidized beer if I didn’t have to literally sign my life away to another round of crippling student loans.

Been there. Done that.  If I had a rich uncle I’d be doing it again. So I read. And I study. And I tour. My garden is my lab. Minus the subsidized beer.  And the piercings.

However. Do not think for one minute I am not on to you and your cleverly-chosen avatar of Underdog. That is a strategic place to lurk, and you pull it off well.  I can only come off as harsh and unsympathetic in comparison.  I will remind you that I did once sit through one of your interminable lectures (the one where you weren’t attacking me), and you are fooling no one with the “I’m just an average, at best, student” shtick.

The Pity-The-Poor-Midwesterner routine is also particularly shrewd (esp. as anti-coastal bias is popular and I am creature of not one, but two); but I’ve seen the black, beautiful soils out there. You could throw a pack of cigarettes on the ground and sprout tobacco. Who needs mountains and oceans with fertility like that?

Yes. You are good at what you do. But do seek therapy at once.

Yours,

Marianne

P.S.  My version of too much gin at age 15 and the dirty asphalt of a drive-in right off the Mosteller Road exit in Sharonville, Ohio, is tequilla in a little town in Norway at 18. No asphalt.  Cannot touch the stuff now…double-vision fjords come flooding back. Thank God social media didn’t exist when we were young & supple, eh?

Looking for Something More Positive originally appeared on GardenRant on August 6, 2020.

The post Looking for Something More Positive appeared first on GardenRant.

from GardenRant https://ift.tt/2XzUNDH