#im also making things worse for myself and drawing a map

[headfullof-ideas]

I’m redesigning a few more characters that will look different in this story in comparison to canon, and all I will say right now is I totally forgot Savage had a mustache in Riders and Defenders of Berk.

I’m so used to him looking like this in RTTE

That I forgot he used to look like this

Help

[nanesuma]

Hello journal, nice to meet you!

It's been about a week since I woke up here

I’ve decided to start writing in this journal to help me keep track of events and the timeline of what my life is now... I hope moms okay I wonder if she's worried not like I really reached out much. I’m not sure what month or year it is here and I lost track of time a lot back home. It’s been tough compared to my old life of wallowing alone but I already feel better I always thought I was more of a feral human it seems I was right the sky’s orange here which doesn't make sense since the sun’s still yellow but its kind of relaxing, my tinnitus is gone too although im not sure why. I think this world is going to be better for me in the long run

Here's everything different I've found about this world::

The sun is still yellow but the sky is a pale orange, the night sky is still mostly black but you can really see everything, it’s beautiful. There are new constellations to mark and it seems there's a north star here too, at least I assume its north I really have no way to know it seems there are no other humans here so I dont have to worry about my directions being wrong to others atleast

It is barren of cities, it's nice but off-putting sometimes once you’ve lived around thousands of faces every day it's hard to come to terms with the fact that everything you know is gone I haven’t wondered too far from my cave after the first day here I hope there's something sentient here or I might not be sane forever

Vegetation is largely the same, the leaves are a little different and the fruits tend to be sweeter but nothing huge.

Most of the same animals are here too although I've seen some new species im not sure what to make of them. Some are horrifying and probably lethal…

I’ve also found slimes are here and quite easily tamed they are very in tune with predators and have helped me stay alive so far all I need to do is give them food and they seem to be fine living in my cave

The trees are thick but there are some random patches of empty land, I’ve been worried to step there it might be some kind of trap door spider or worse, the sticks and rocks I've tossed yielded nothing but im not risking my life this early in

The air is so fresh, and everything about me has sped up to some degree it might be the survival instincts in me or the fact you can smell everything so strongly I wonder how these plants survive in such fresh carbonless air, I can't complain myself though

Magic is here, real magic the stuff I've dreamt of since I was a kid and it’s ridiculously intuitive like I was built for it or rather it was built for me. That's how I created this book and this paper, I wonder if I could print images too

Overall this seems like the ideal world for me I just wish it was the one I was born in, boredom's harder to fight I dont even have books to read

:

Today I managed to hunt some kind of boar and thanks to magic starting a fire was easy, the 2 slimes (I haven't named them yet) ate most of the bones which was a shock, they don't digest things normally my best guess is they immediately break down everything inside them and store it somehow.

Tomorrow I think I’m going to start mapping the area out I’m sure there's some way to measure distance with magic for an accurate map hopefully I can draw with spells too or it'll be messy

Plans for the map:

Scout around  the forest as much as I can until afternoon maybe I could try wind magic to fly up and get a better view

I’ll mark everything down as I go

To whoever may find this        -Nanesuma

[jesuscrab]

Zelda TOTK makes me miss Death Stranding - an "analisis" (but not really)

Been playing the new hit Zelda game everyone been raving about, becuse i really loved the original. Been playing it for around 15 hours and i really do like it. But it keeps remidning me of Death Stranding, a game i've played for 200 hours last year. So i wanna write a little something descrining my problems with TOTK and my love for DS mechanics.

Read more to read more!!!

So. Death Stranding. Amazing game, at least to me. Not gonna bore you with the details, but it's a game that is fully designed on walking around - that is the main mechanics and gameplay feature - walking from point a to point b in the most efficent way possible. I have never realized how much of the games many mechanics are extremly well designed and thought out until now, when im playing a game without them. DS had so many unique and interesting mechanics that greatly improved exploration and navigation, things that i personally think TOTK has issues with.

The game has a very well designed map, which is not just a 2D png. It's a 3D model which you can tilt, showing you the topograhpy like valleys and mountains. It's a feature that greatly imporves navigation, which is for me a massive problem in TOTK.

It was a problem in BOTW already, but with the addition of sky island it became much more annoying. Putting waypoints on your map sucks. I can't make the point or stamp destinguish the "layer" where is it on, so future me will have to guess what i was trying to signal there. I can't know if a certian area is , becuse there is three seperate floating islands in the way, so i have to make sure each time that im stepping off the right one, since i can't easily check it on the map.

If i put the beacon from the map, it just goes on the highest point on the map, so fuck me if i forget what it was for and starting going on the top of some mountain becuse i could not highlight a cave otherwise.

TOTK just has a problem with navigation. A controversial way to help this would be imo to put a floating - sparkling "line" to your destination, which you could highlight from the map. Death Stranding let's you put a marker basiclly anywhere and it will show you the closest way there - but you can also connect markers yourself, drawing your own path on the map and plan your travels. I really would love a similar feature in TOTK, since i keep putting markers for myself in areas and then have a lot of trouble comming back there again. I love exploring stuff in games - thats why i love the new open world zelda - but this is not fun. It's annoying. They added new things in the game and didint put stuff to accomodate them.

A different thing i miss from death stranding is the compass - in my mind, a greatest open world mechanic idea (right below the self-drawn path i described earlier)

It basiclly just shows you all your markers and mission objectives, display the current distance, and allows you to snap your view dirrectly to them. That feature makes sense in DS since there is no minimap there, but still - i think zelda would benifit from a feature like that. with it's many attractions on the map, it's easy to get extremly sidetracked and even lost. even if i can see the waypoint on my map, it's still a flat png that just tells me the direction and nothing elese, i have no idea if it's in a mountain or a cave. And yes, i could look through the binoculars, but with their limited view they are not really a great navigation tool in my opinion.

I hope this revelation won't make me hate open world games or see them as worse. Death Stranding is a very different breed of an open world game, and i dont think every game should copy it. i just think that it's mechanics of travel are really good features and the new zelda - being a game based on exploration - would grealy benifit from features that improve them, since i think there are flaws in the system.

so ya. thats it. thanks if you read it all.]

play DS. My final messege... goodbye....

(sorry for not including pics - westy e slepy)

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter two)

A/n Chapter twooo!! I cannot believe the support I’ve been getting on here im so excited to share my six of crows/shadow and bone fics with y’all!

 Lmk if you’d like to be tagged when I update this story!! And just letting y’all know I take requests so if you have an idea you’d like to see me attempt feel free to comment it or send it in :)) 

--

At least Kaz’s claimed ‘wraith’ (which is such an odd thing to just have) is a girl, and a seemingly kind one at that. She was quick to find me, body pressed into wooden shelves and glass bottles, and subtly gesture for me to follow her. It had been difficult to keep track of her flighty form through the crowd, but I think there was a point in her strange raveling, to make sure no one was following me. 

She’s not particularly talkative, but she doesn’t seem bothered by me. She tossed me a random oversized shirt to pull over my dress when she saw how I kept adjusting the fabric and crossing my arms. That was kinder than she needed to be. I think I’ll like her. 

“So you’re a wraith,” I manage, breaking the nervous silence, “Like a full time, constantly on-call wraith.” 

The question seems to puzzle her, dark eyebrows drawing together. “Yes.” The corner of her mouth twitches up slightly, a smile. “A full time, constantly on-call wraith.” She hesitates, perfect stance adjusting. “What were you doing before?” 

Great. This question. “Nothing important.” It’s not a fair cop-out. Especially since she answered my question. “I um...I’m indentured to Rollan Kenya.” 

I watch her reaction to the name. Some know of him. Some revere him. Some loathe him and everything he’s associated with. “His religious interpretations are controversial.” 

“If you think what he says to the public is bad you should hear what he says in private.” I push myself further into the chair I’m in. 

Something strange flickers over her features. “I can imagine.” 

Shaking my head, I hope I’m ending this conversation. “What’s your name?” 

A hesitation. “Inej.” 

I nod once, “I’m y/n.” 

“Do you need water, y/n?” 

I scratch my still exposed knee. “That’d be nice. Thank you.” 

She’s quick to leave, feet making no noise. A minute later she returns with a cup. I have no reason to suspect her, but I still sniff the cup before taking a cautious sip. I wonder if Anya made it back home. I wonder if she’s worse off for it. 

Before I can fall into a pit of debating despair, the door to the room Inej took me to squeaks open. On instinct, I snap my gaze towards the door, tensing. The first person I notice is Kaz, entering the room with a determination too intense for this time of night. Jesper is quick to follow, and I drop my stare. I’ve never had to interact with anyone I’ve lied to after taking their money. 

“Are they gone?” Inej asks, clearly accustomed to such brooding tension. 

Kaz nods once, “It took too much convincing--the Inferni’s more than she’s letting on.” 

I’m literally in the room. “I’m not--we’ve spoken two words to each other, sorry my abilities didn’t come up.” 

He turns towards me with a deadly grace. My grip on the cup tightens. What the hell is wrong for me? How deeply instilled is that god complex Kenya wanted in me? It must be as part of me as my name if I felt comfortable enough to speak that way to Kaz Brekker. 

I keep my eyes on his cane, waiting for some kind of physical retaliation. “Maybe the grisha hunting you would appreciate your sense of humor more.” 

It’s a bluff. He needs me. He’s desperate for something that can mimic a Sun Summoner. Still though, I’m not in the mood to poke a bear with a stick. “Speaking from experience,” I clear my throat awkwardly, “They tend not to.”

“Then I suggest you begin explaining before I decide I’d rather take my chances and you lose your worth.” 

Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last eleven years of my life with Kenya, his words would haunt me. I keep my expression set, but the lanterns in the room flicker. “It’s not as impressive as they’re making it seem--Inferni can produce fire, regular, red, bright fire.” I pause, feeling energy in my palms. “I can do the same, but I can also,” I extend a flat palm, “Do this.” 

I focus my energy on restraint, forcing the fire on my skin to remain there, covering my palms in a cold, blue glow. “It’s still fire, just blue--and that matters to them because blue light is the only kind you can use in the Fold.” Do they know anything about the fold? “Kenya, the man I’m indentured to, believes that this ability makes me eligible for Sainthood. He specializes in collecting people he thinks are eligible for Sainthood.” The low flame coating my palm licks upwards as I remember what disappointing Kenya means. “And if you don’t meet his standards, he’ll find a way to make sure you do. That’s why the grisha want me. He made me more and they believe that if they give me to someone who can give me an amplifier I’ll be able to produce enough blue light to protect an entire fleet.” 

“What do you mean ‘he’ll find a way to make sure you do’?” Inej’s voice is cautious. An attempt to be respectful. 

I drop my palm, letting the fire disappear into nothingness. “I wasn’t born with the ability to control the blue light so well--It’s difficult enough to produce for longer than two seconds let alone keep it from burning everything in sight. By the time I ended up in Kenya’s control he had learned that certain stimulants. Some scientists are working on a more grisha-targeted kind, but Kenya has managed to work with the generic well enough.” Hands shaking, I wipe the condensation off the side of the cup and hold out my wrist. Using the condensation, I begin to wipe at my wrist and forearm, smearing my makeup and revealing the needle bruises. “The key is withdrawals.”

Thoughts of begging Kenya, crying and screaming for another fix as he promised to give me that as soon as I showed some control of my abilities, make the shaking in my hand worse. I clasp my hands together, squeezing them in hopes of hiding the signs of withdrawal. 

I stare at the ground, not wanting to take anyone’s reaction in. I handle pity as well as I handle kindness. 

“Do you think you could produce enough blue light for one ship?”

Looking up, I take in Kaz’s measured expression. I’m glad he’s sticking to business. I’d rather that than deal with unpacking all of that with a group of strangers that don’t care if I live or die. 

“I could try.” I’ve never tried to protect anything that large. “Even if I can, it doesn’t mean a voyage like that will be safe.” 

“There’s no real safety in the Fold,” he replies easily. Realistic expectations. That will make this easier. “No one finds out about her--especially not Pekka Rollins.” 

I pull my arm towards my body, glad for the opportunity to hide the bruises. Signs of my weakness. The worst part was always the way Kenya would speak to me after. Pathetic. Weak. Trapped within the restraints of my flesh. 

“Who’s Pekka Rollins?” 

Kaz briefly turns his head in my direction. “No one that will ever concern you.” He ignores my annoyed huff. “We’ll use the Inferni to get to Alina Starkov.” 

Alina. Alina Starkov. “What do you want with Alina?”

 At that, the room seems to drain. I feel weirder than when they were seeing my abilities. 

“You know her?” Jesper’s surprise reveals more than Kaz wants him to. I don’t miss the glare he receives.

I half-shrug. “We were in the same orphanage for awhile.”

“How did you get to Ketterdam?” I don’t trust Kaz’s urgency. 

“I don’t remember, I was a child and I--I hit my head that night I think. I just woke up and I was with Kenya.” 

“How well do you know Alina?” 

There was a point in time in which she was my best friend. We learned how to braid hair by practicing on each other, we would draw maps together, and I was the only one who knew about her crush on Mal. “Not that well.” 

He takes a step forward, eyes almost squinting. The touch of distrust is evident on his face. “If you’re lying I’ll find out.” 

I owe Alina at least this. “Well then it’s a good thing I’m not.” 

I’m not naive enough to believe that I’ve convinced him, but his intense gaze does not remain on me. I’m relieved when his attention is off of me, but he’s only moving on to start planning the riskiest thing I’ve ever done. 

-- 

Taglist: @ambrosia-v-black 

[thiswasinevitableid]

98. I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem that concerned???

Super/vigilante/mercenary au? I feel like it would be really cool if one of them has known the other’s secret identity for a while but doesn’t have anything against them. The two have also been becoming /close/ friends with mutual pining, so the hit is actually just a good excuse to reveal their identity before asking them out. Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I tried to work in as much of this as I could

Content warning for mentions of guns and mentions of death

It’s a dark and stormy night, because of course it fucking is.

Indrid steers the borrowed car down the street, rain hammering the car while his heart tries chiseling it’s way from his chest. He doesn’t want to be here, circling the block like a shark on a reef, the light from the top floor, left corner of the apartment building telling him there’s no pretending his prey isn’t home. He doesn’t want to think about the instructions he burned, the lethal object hidden in his clothes.

He doesn’t want to kill Duck Newton.

“Excuse me, but I have a rather odd question; which of these trails is the least traveled?”

The ranger looks up from the map between them, grin friendly and a little lopsided, “Lookin to do some birdwatchin or somethin?”

“I like to draw but I, ah, I also get easily overwhelmed by crowds.”

“Try this one” The man circles a trailhead, “not super popular this time of year. Watch out for mud.”

“I shall, thank you.”

He didn’t.

Which is why he’s back in the visitor center, trying to get enough of the mud off so that driving home isn’t miserable. Worse, the ranger from earlier walks in, takes one look at him, and snickers.

“I tried! Truly, I was careful, but there was this-”

“Patch of stones in the trail?”

“...Yes. How did you know?”

“Fell flat on my ass two days ago thanks to them. Wait here a sec.” The door swings shut, then opens again while Indrid is rinsing mud from his glasses. The ranger holds out a packet of body wipes, “this’ll get the worst of it.”

“Thank you ranger...Newton.”

That same smile, reaching a pair of mismatched eyes, “Just call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid parks in a spot far from any streetlights or cameras, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and starts towards the apartment complex.

“These are fascinating.” Indrid peers over the edge of the dock at the early blooming bulbs.

“Glad you like ‘em, thought they might be alley after you showed me those drawings of the marsh.”

He imagines Duck seeing the flowers on his rounds and thinking not of the seasons, the weather, the way their petals look near the water, but of him. It’s the sweetest thought anyone’s ever spared for him.

The lobby door opens easily, courtesy of the copy of the keycard left in his mailbox. He knows he should take the stairs; fewer people use them.

He calls the elevator.

“Duck? The sign on the door is, that’s just temporary right?”

“Nope.” Duck sets his hat on the counter, runs a hand right through the grey streak in his hair, “they’re closin the whole park until further notice, which is probably gonna be never. Laid all of us off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Even Indrid could tell it wasn’t. That from their occasional conversations, Duck’s work was akin to his heart, kept life flowing through him on even the roughest days. The assignment had told him not to worry, that he was almost doing his target a favor, ending a life he wanted over anyway.

Indrid knocks on the door, tossing his options about in his mind as slow footsteps approach. He could do what he was sent here for. Or he could offer Duck Newton something to brighten his days.

The door opens, Duck standing there in boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and a confused expression.

“Indrid? Jesus, come in, you're fuckin soaked. This is some storm.”

“At least it will help with the drought.” Indrid closes the door, slips off his shoes, lets Duck take his sweatshirt to hang near the heater, angling his body so he won’t see or feel the handgun tucked in his waistband.

“Yeah. Assumin it don’t just mudslide all the hills that lost their cover durin fire season.” Duck sighs, plops down on the couch, “sorry, ain’t exactly in a chipper mood.”

“That’s sort of why I came to see you. I, ah, I wanted to see how you were getting on after the park closing.”

Duck gestures to the messy apartment, then at himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you got enough money to reopen the park indefinitely.”

He chuckles, “I wish I did.” He picks up a small, wooden ship, “goodness, did you make this?”

“Yep. Know it’s an old man hobby but, uh, I dunno. I just like makin stuff. Putting things into the world, even if it’s just a model ship on the shelf or a mint plant on the windowsill.” His smile is tired, but there’s a determination to it that makes up Indrid’s mind for him. He’s about to make his offer when Duck adds, “mind grabbin me some water since you’re closer to the kitchen? Cups are in the middle cabinet.”

“Of course.” Indrid crosses into the small kitchen, mind wandering to what their first date will entail as he sets his hands on two glasses.

The cold metal at the base of his neck hurtles him back to earth.

“Someone set you up, slim.”

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

Duck’s hand goes instantly to Indrid’s gun, pulling it free and tossing it away before roughly patting him up and down. The barrel on his skin never wavers.

“Duck, please, I, I can explain.”

“No need to. Thought you seemed familiar, went diggin and found out who you work for. Bet you thought I hadn’t seen your nine mil, but I ain’t lived this long by bein careless.”

“I don’t understand. The file they gave me didn’t say anything about this.”

A bitter chuckle, “Wasn’t always a ranger, slim. The fact they didn’t tell you that makes me think they’re hopin I off you, not the other way around.”

“But, but I didn’t do anything.” The crack in his voice is why he was never cut out for this, he told them that, over and over again.

“And you ain’t gonna.”

“Duck please I, I wasn’t going to do what they told me.”

“If your bosses are who I think, then helpin me would be a goddamn death wish on your part.”

“It would have been worth it. One date with you would have been worth whatever they did to me if they caught me after I ran.”

“That’s mighty funny” the barrel disappears, and the ghost of a kiss takes it’s place, “I was busy weighing whether askin you out was worth the risk of gettin shot.”

Duck sets the Glock on the counter as Indrid slumps against it, turning to find the ranger watching him carefully.

“What do we do now?” He sort of wants him to kiss him, sort of wants to storm out and find whoever thought he could be gotten rid of so easily.

“I say we-” Duck freezes as three, sharp knocks come from the door. He crouches to the floor, Indrid following him. The ranger grabs Indrid’s gun from the floor, whispers, “stay put, follow my lead.” Then he calls, “who is it?”

“I have a package for you to sign for, Mr. Newton.”

“Be right there. Actually” he lowers his voice slightly, “uh, Indrid, you’re right by the door, could you-”

The shot breaks the wood right where Indrid’s head would be. Duck fires two shots, both of them sighing when there’s a tell-tale thump of body meeting carpet.

“Glad yours had the silencer. Buys us some time, but someone is bound to come outta their apartment eventually and find the fucker.”

“Our hitmen also have to report completion within a certain time frame or back-up is sent. And no, I can’t do it for him, it has to be voice contact.” Indrid stands, calmer than a moment ago; this part he knows.

“Good to know. In that case, slim,” he raises an eyebrow, “think it’s time you and I take a vacation.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“You really got no clue what they’re after you for?” Duck winds them along highway 50 as the sun peers anxiously over the horizon.

“None.” Indrid fishes out the roll of mini doughnuts he bought near Donner Lake, the first place Duck had deemed safe to stop since they left the coast. They’re in his car, Indrid knowing full well the one he borrowed has a tracking device installed, “I’m mostly a numbers man; they give me scenarios and I give them likely outcomes. I, ah, I also helped with clean up, but I suspect they did that when they were annoyed I’d given them what they thought was an inaccurate prediction. I don’t like the aftermath of disasters, even if they’re small. And I was never, ever assigned a hit until last night” He worries a hangnail, “I thought they were satisfied with my work. Even if they weren’t, they could easily do away with me. There was no point in sending me on a fake mission and hoping you’d kill me instead.”

“Unless they got something against me too, which they could.” Duck drums on the wheel, “I, uh, I joined a, uh, guess you’d call ‘em a vigilante group when I was younger. I was eighteen and they recruited me, sayin how there were certain folks who were chosen to protect the world from evil. I avoided it for a few years, but they were persistent, and honestly I thought I could make a difference. That we were just protectin folks who the system didn’t. And we did. Kinda.”

Indrid offers him a doughnut, which he takes and chews before continuing

“Trouble was, not everyone agreed on who needed protectin. It got so convoluted and so goddamn dangerous that I decided I wanted out. Wanted to spend the rest of my life makin things grow, lookin out for the woods, that kinda thing. It almost worked. But if I could go back in time to talk to that kid, I’d tell ‘im there are enemies you can’t unmake, things you can’t undo.”

“Very true.” Indrid murmurs, “I suppose I’d tell myself I did not blame him for throwing in with who he had to in order to survive.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’ now, too.”

“No.” Indrid shakes his head, “right now I am on the run with someone I like a great deal.”

Duck flashes him a smile, flips the blinker to turn them into the only sign of civilization for miles; a cluster of buildings calling itself Cold Springs Station. The groggy teen at the counter gives them the key to a cramped cabin.

Indrid tosses his bag--the one he hid in the trunk of the borrowed car, knowing the likely outcome of his visit would involve flight of some kind--down on the right side of the bed, Duck doing the same on the left. It’s only when they’re under the covers, both half-asleep, that he notices he forgot something.

“Drat. I meant to stick something plush in my bag. I, ah” he blushes, “I sleep much better with something to cuddle.”

A strong arm drapes over his waist while Duck tucks his head under Indrid’s head, “how’s that?”

Indrid winds his limbs around him, feeling like a little kid who’s just had his favorite teddy bear returned to him after hours of tearful searching, “perfect.”

------------------------------------------------------

The plan is to weave through the Southwest like a drunk bee before turning North; they need to put off visiting any places with friends or family for as long as they can. They spent a morning on the floor of a run down motel with a map and some pens, marking off the safest routes and places they’d like to visit. Duck picks state parks, Indrid any place likely to have lots of sweet food.

Whenever they stop for the night, they never bother asking for two beds. While they’ve yet to go further, Indrid delights in waking Duck with a kiss on the cheek each morning.

On the Nevada border Indrid spends two hours playing Blackjack, counting cards enough to win several thousand dollars but not enough to get caught. In a pizza place outside of Salt Lake, Duck wins Indrid a stuffed mothman from a claw machine (“just in case you gotta sleep alone some time”).

And fifty miles from Alamogordo, they get into trouble.

Indrid carries his weapon near constantly, but he really didn’t think he needed it at the Motel 6 Breakfast Buffet. When the man waiting for the waffle maker next to him says “outside, Cold, let’s get this over with” he goes still, wishing they’d at least given him time to eat.

Then he hurls his scalding mocha into the man’s face, striking him in the ribs and breaking his nose before he even hits the floor. Orange and red liquid splashes his face, two shots hitting the juice dispenser behind him. The other two assassins don’t get a second chance to fire; Duck takes out one with a chair, jabs the other with the splintered leg, and gathers both their guns with an ease that Indrid admires.

As they’re sprinting for the parking lot, Indrid slapping an extra two hundred dollars on the lobby desk in apology, he realizes admiration doesn’t quite capture his feelings. Duck is so calm in the face of danger, so commanding, and so very, very...hot.

The moment he allows himself that thought is the moment he dooms his focus for the remainder of the day. He contributes to the planning of their next stop, to driving and watching the mirror for cars that follow for too long, but his mind is back in the dining room, hoping Duck will turn the fire in his eyes onto Indrid, bend him over the beige table and take him while the people who tried to hurt them whimper and bleed on the floor.

“‘Drid? I’m gonna go shower, didn’t get a chance this mornin. You wanna scope out dinner?”

“Of course, but I fear it might be the vending machine special again.”

“Eh, I can live with that, especially if they got those Oreo packets.” Duck blows him a kiss and shuts the bathroom door.

Duck’s showers are between five and six minutes in length; Indrid’s certain he can get himself off in that time. He slips his pajama pants down, spits in his hand, and pretends the fingers pressing on his neck are not his own. That Duck’s voice is in his ear the same way it was that first night, low and so firm Indrid has no choice but to bend.

“You droppin hints, slim?” Duck leans in the bathroom doorway, towel around his waist.

He bolts upright, pants tangled around his knees, “Nono, I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be a few minutes more.”

“Wanted to shave and forgot my dop kit. Now I’m kinda disappointed that I was gonna miss the show.”

“I, ah, I, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Thought we established we were into each other.” Duck’s smile falters, “wait, fuck, if you decided you ain’t I’ll back the fuck off.”

“No!” Indrid crawls to the edge of the bed nearest Duck, not caring how silly he must look, “it’s the opposite, I want you even more now than I did when we started this trip. After this morning I--ah, never mind. The point is, I would very much like to get you into bed sooner rather than later.”

“How about now?”

“Only if you…” Indrid’s brain screeches to a stop as Duck drops his towel. Now he understands where the urge to create phallic sculptures comes from; he wants to preserve this sight for all time.

“Glad you approve.” Duck chuckles, joins him on the bed, “gotta say the, uh, feelin’s mutual.” He slides a hand along Indrid’s dick, gone soft from his alarm, and lets out an approving groan as it hardens against his palm, “that’s it, sugar, get excited for me.”

“If I get any more excited I will explode.”

“Can’t have that, it’s a pain to clean blood off of walls by yourself” a kiss finds his cheek, “you got a preference for how we do this?”

“I, I’d like to, ah, receive. At least for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck growls, abandoning him on the bed and laughing when he whines, “gimme two seconds, slim, then I’ll take care of you.” Two condoms and a small bottle of lube bonk into Indrid’s foot, “packed those just in case. You’re gonna get one of ‘em out and open yourself up for me while tellin me just what got you so riled up. Shirt off, c’mon, get to it.”

The gruff tone means Indrid is blushing on every inch of skin by the time he’s fully naked. As Duck’s gaze moves over him, all traces of dominance wash away, leaving expression tender when their eyes finally meet.

“Christ, ‘Drid, you look better than ever coulda pictured. Shoulda been bookin more places with pools just to get you shirtless.”

“It’s January, dear.”

“Hot tubs, then.” Duck nudges him onto his back by kissing his shoulder, and the sight of the ranger above him reminds Indrid’s fingers what they should be doing. He fumbles the condom open, gasps when one digit feels like a massive intrusion.

“Easy slim, easy, you’re probably still tense from this mornin.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Indrid grins as Duck bends to kiss his collarbone.

“It is, so start tellin me what got you so horny you jerked off the first free second you had.”

“It’s a, a bit embarrassing OH, ohthat'snice” he sighs as Duck kisses a slow trail towards his hips, “but I find the moments when you demonstrate a certain...ruthlessness in-incredibly arousing.” He wiggles his hips happily as Duck drags his lips across his belly.

“Keep goin.”

“You’re brave, and calm even when things are awful, and that makes me feel so very safe with you. But then there are those times when I remember how dangerous you could be, AHnnn” the second finger goes in easier than the first, “that when it, it comes down to it you are more seasoned in lethal matters than I am and I, you could render me utterly helpless, have me, use me, hurt me, but instead you offer me more tenderness than I deserve.” He glances down to where Duck’s chin rests on his chest, the ranger’s eyes overflowing with affection.

“You want the gentle me or the rough one tonight?” Duck tucks a strand of Indrid’s silver hair behind his ear.

“Rough.” It’s so quiet he’s amazed Duck hears it.

“Okay. In that case-”

“AHgod!” Indrid’s hand is pulled free as Duck first flips him over and then hauls him onto his knees.

“Hands on the wall. Now.”

Indrid sets his palms on peeling grey paint as foil crinkles behind him. When the head of Duck’s cock rubs his entrance he whimpers, hoping the prep was enough.

“Here’s how this is gonna go; I’m gonna use this cute little ass however long and however hard I want, and you;re gonna keep your hands there the whole fuckin time. You move, or you mouth off, and I shove some fingers in along with my dick just to remind you who’s boss.”

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid rests his forehead on the wall.

“It gets to be too much, say stop.” A kiss to his neck, “much as I wanna ruin you, wanna be good to you even more.”

“Understood. Now please, please fuck meEEEh, ohgoodnessAH, ahhhgod.” He scratches the wall as Duck stretches him open, the prep proving enough but only just and tears pricking his eyes by the time Duck bottoms out.

One hand stays on his hip while Duck’s right arm wraps around his chest, keeping them close, “Fuuuck, now I see what your job was; ass this nice, you were the fuckin cocksleeve for the entire Organization, weren’t you?”

“Not at all” Indrid rolls his hips at the taunt in Duck’s voice, “I was a very valuable asset.”

“Yeah, I’ll say you’re an asset.” A sharp thrust, the menace of which is broken by Duck giggling at his own joke, Indrid hiding his face in his arm to do the same.

“I say in, ahgod, an office all day, no one saw me, I was not h-hired for my looks, I promise you.”

“If you say so. I say it’s their. Fuckin. Loss.” Three thrusts and Indrid’s cock is dripping onto the pillows, and he moans as Duck settles into a demanding rhythm.

“Got another theory for you, slim.”

“D-do tell.” Whether the stammering is from his teeth clacking together or his thoughts being bounced around his brain from the force of Duck pounding into him, he can’t say.

“I think you stuck around as long as you did because you get off on it danger.”

Indrid sucks in a breath, whimpers, “No. I, I was there because I was apprenticed out and, as you knowOH it’s, it’s hard to leave such places.”

Fingers on his throat, pressing but not squeezing, “Liar. Bet you got off at least once a day, let everyone from the hired hits to higher ups cum in you as long as they made you think they could off someone. Oh fuck, heh, you like that?” Duck smirks as Indrid tries to fuck himself in time with the pumps of his hips.

“Yes, goodness, I’d never want it, only want you, but, but the idea is divine.”

“Too bad, because now you’re all mine and anyone who tries to take you is gonna be in for a world of hurt.”

His climax curls in his stomach, begging him to touch himself and free it, but he’s determined to be good.

“Duck, please let me cum, please, it’s so good but I can’t-”

“I’ll help you out sugar, don’t worry. But you gotta do one thing first.” Duck nips his ear, “say you’re my personal toy from now on. C’mon” the fingers on his throat tighten, “say i-”

“I’m yours, I’m your toy, only you can have me, you can do whatever you wish to me and I’ll take it with a smile, anything, sweetheart, please, pleasepleasepleaseAHhhhn.” His cum splatters on the wall, Duck’s hand leaving his dick the instant it does to dig his fingers into both hips and fuck up into him with ecstatic groans.

“That’s it sugar, take it, be good for me and lemme fuck you until you can’t move, ohfuck, fuck, ‘Drid, yes, fuckyes.” He holds him tight as he cums, breath warm against his back. Then he’s pulling out and slumping forward as Indrid falls back into his arms.

“Ooops” he snickers, spotting the cum, “still easier to clean than blood.”

“Indeed.” Indrid bites his lip, “I, that was wonderful but there’s one thing more I would like. Will you kiss me.” He looks over his shoulder to say it. Duck cups his face, turns it so he can bring their lips together. It’s far slower and twice as tender as anything else they’ve done together.

“Can’t believe I forgot to do that until now. Gonna kiss you silly.” Duck kisses him again as Indrid turns in his lap. When he pulls back, his face is serious, “Y’know, it’s easy to be brave and calm when I’m doin’ it for you. You make me feel like I can face any goddamn thing, long as it’s for your sake. That make sense?”

Indrid studies his face in the half-shaded light from the bedside lamp, sees the curves and colors, sees the man he was willing to run away for.

“Yes, sweetheart, it does.”

[wishiwasntstillhere]

and when the world is crashing down on you, will you give me a call?

Kyouya makes a different decision, and does not end up threatening someone he cares about. 

Kyouya-centric for his birthday!! Episode 8 fixit fic, no ships but also im clearly in love with all three of them so :) also on ao3!

Haruhi bursts into his room and goes straight for the bathroom, never even seeing him. Heaving noises ensue from within. He winces. Too much crab, then. He lays the towel down, grabbing his glasses so he can stand, but-

Should he go check on her?

For the hundredth time, the waves crash against that jagged rock and Haruhi plunges silent into dark water. He blinks it away.

Instead, he sits, toweling his hair, and wonders at her. Will she be awkward once she realizes he’s just finished showering? Hmm. Probably not. Oblivious or indifferent, Kyouya can never tell which, but Haruhi never seems flustered by that kind of thing.

That thought should be intriguing, but today there's only a churning in his gut.

“All done?” Kyouya asks, once his bathroom door opens again. He doesn't look up.

“I’m sorry for intruding into the room of a stranger-"

“How rude. It’s me.”

"Kyouya-senpai? Oh. I’m sorry, I seem to have gotten everyone worried about me.”

He refuses to let it play again. Yet in crashes the sea, the fall, the silence of that terror. He just can't shake it.

And so, the Shadow King must act.

Kyouya glances past her to the lightswitch and draws up the words he needs.

“I wasn’t particularly worried.” He stands, then drinks out of his water bottle. Cool, casual. That’s the key to this ruse.

He lays out the bait, recounting Hikaru and Kaoru’s scuffle with her attackers. Pinning his focus on his destination across the room, he spins some nonsense about bouquets and apologies to the girls. Kyouya doesn’t look at her once, even as he positions himself for the catch. In a way, it’s hosting. A careful dance made to look careless, subtly guiding her to the right outcome.

“I’ll pay for those flowers myself,” Haruhi promises, of course.

And his timing is precise. In the exact moment he lays out her six-figure mistake, he flips the lights off, and finally, Kyouya can turn to face her.

Something about the ruffles on her dress sends cold water splashing frantic up his insides. He takes another breath. He reaches down, drawing up the calculated cruelty he needs. He doesn’t like playing the bad guy, but he is best equipped for it. And someone has to.

“Why did you turn the lights off?”

She’s stepped in the snare, the cold teeth of the trap must snap shut around her now. Now, or she’ll never see the danger as it should be.

But his eyes catch on her face, blurry in the dark but watching, open, patient—and the teeth don’t move. He doesn’t move.

“Senpai?”

She fidgets, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Surely she senses the strangeness in the air.

“Senpai, you’re starting to worry me,” she starts cautiously.

Is he? Is he finally? He can hardly breathe, only he knows this isn’t enough. He grasps for his plan, the words that will make things right-

“Senpai, I’m sorry about the expense. Please don’t worry about it, I really will pay it off,” she tries, and he knows that she really means it. She gives him a look, gentler than a smile, something surreal and infuriatingly comforting in her very Haruhi way, and he chokes.

“Why didn’t you call for help, Haruhi?” he asks, relieved that his voice comes out so indifferent.

Haruhi sighs. “So you were worried.”

A Kyouya with the lights on would fill this space with words, flooding it with hurtful meaningless things. As a member of the host club, you are but an asset to me at best, commoner. Don’t presume your own importance. You are obligated to stay out of trouble until your debt is paid, at least.

There are yet other things he could have said in light, things that would have been kinder, truer, and yet just as deceptive. You scared Tamaki. You drove the twins to violence for you. Don't you see how they worry for you?

But they’re in the dark, and Haruhi’s not dumb, and his hand is already shown. Kyouya has an infinite capacity for unkindnesses––but for once, he’s willing to admit that he doesn’t want to go through with this plan.

“Why didn’t you?” he repeats.

She cocks her head, answering frankly. “It didn’t occur to me.”

And the cold inside him wails.  

He clenches his jaw to keep from shouting at her, how completely unhelpful that would be. But still more iron leaches into his tone than intended.

“And just why didn’t it occur to you?”

Haruhi’s chin jerks, eyes sparking. Oh, no.

“Well, those guys weren’t listening, so I didn’t have time to worry about how my gender would impact things. I had to act.”

She’s not listening, and the water is growing more agitated. Careless. Disrespectful. She should be afraid, and he can make her fear him.

Stomach lurching, he holds that thought in place. No. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He doesn’t want her to fear him.

This isn’t about Kyouya. It’s about Haruhi, and her safety.

How can he make her understand? How can he understand?

“I don’t disagree that something had to be done,” he starts. “Those girls were in real, immediate danger, and your intervention allowed Kurakano-kun to get the rest of the club to help. And Tamaki was being unreasonable by making the issue about your gender.”

Even this much is exhausting, so he sits down on the floor.

When she follows suit, her shoulders have settled a little from their taut hunch. Progress. He searches the dark and blurry bedroom for the next right words. But Haruhi finds them first.

“I know that rushing in to fight those guys was reckless,” she murmurs. “But the girls were scared. If I didn’t act, right away, they were going to be hurt.”

Kyouya pauses. She won’t like his next question. But he holds her gaze, intending to understand.

“Had you considered that you could get hurt, by intervening?”

Haruhi frowns. “After I hit the one, I knew they would focus on me. That was sort of the point, to get him to let go of Momoka-chan. But…” Her tone shifts into something more contemplative now. “I suppose I didn’t guard myself well, but how were my actions any different from Tamaki-senpai’s? He dove straight off the cliff to get to me, wasn’t that just as dangerous?”

She does have a point there. However good a swimmer he is, Tamaki had dived off the cliff without even looking. And yet...

True, Tamaki rushes into many reckless things to help others, but it’s never quite filled Kyouya with the same cold dread as Haruhi’s tumble off the cliff. And Tamaki has taken many a tumble. Kyouya would know, after all.

Ah.

“Haruhi, if you were robbed in a foreign country and you didn’t speak the language and you had nothing on you but your cellphone and 1000 yen, what would you do?”

She startles. “Huh? I would… search for the embassy, I guess?”

“And if you had no idea where the embassy was?”

“I would... try to find a map?”

Hmm.

“And if you got locked out of your home at 3 AM in the morning?”

“Senpai, what is this about?” Her confusion has shifted into mild irritation.

“Humor me,” he says, unsmiling.

She throws her hands up in resignation. “I would… wait until my dad got home.”

“And if he was on a business trip? Or if it was storming?”

“I would break in somehow.”

“And if someone at school was stealing your books and writing slurs on your desk?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs out, “I would let the teacher know I needed new books, and clean off my desk before school. Senpai, this isn’t very funny.”

There’s a knock at his door. “Kyouya?” And it opens. “Do you have any lotion? This sunburn is worse than I-”

Tamaki freezes in the doorway. Kyouya can’t see the look on his face, but he hardly needs to, with the perfect replica hissing steam in his mind. He has approximately three seconds to derail this explosion. Luckily, he has just the thing to reroute the wildly careening train that is Tamaki’s mind.

“What are you-”

“Tamaki, after you got scammed and you were stranded on your own in Taiwan, what did you do?”

Tamaki blinks, recalibrating.

“Uh, I think I went to the embassy?”

“And how did you get to the embassy?”

“Hmm... Oh! I called you to ask for directions.” Walking over, he drops down to sit with them. His eyebrows are pinched––he wants to ask why, but still he lets Kyouya lead on.

“Yes. In the middle of an investor meeting,” he adds to a perplexed Haruhi. “And what about that time when you tried to climb from your window to the roof and fell out of your bedroom, when you were too embarrassed to call for a maid to come unlock your own house at 3 AM?”

“I… called you and stayed over at your place.”

Haruhi makes a face at that, which is fair. Nonetheless.

This last one is a little more delicate. He softens his voice, and inclines his head toward Haruhi by way of explanation. “And when you were bullied by our xenophobic peers in middle school?”

“Ah,” Tamaki says, realization smoothing his brow. “I told you about it. And you blackmailed them within an inch of their lives, of course.” He grins at the memory, at Kyouya. It’s easy to smirk back, warm and wicked in equal measure. That plan he has no regrets about.

Haruhi looks back and forth between them. He knows she’s still turning it over in her own mind. She is certainly smart enough to get it herself. But Kyouya decides anyway to take a page out of her book and be blunt, lest a mistranslation lead to regret later.

“The difference,” he explains, “is that whenever Tamaki is in trouble, he calls.”

They sit in silence for a while, Haruhi with her face downturned, Kyouya watching, patient. Considering both of them with his own discerning gaze, Tamaki settles, too.

“I’m just not like that, though,” Haruhi concludes, at last. Her voice is a touch wistful.

Tamaki is very, very gentle with his next words, Kyouya notices. “You grew up pretty lonely, didn’t you, Haruhi?  You had to deal with a lot on your own.”

She shrugs, though all three know it’s true. And then all at once, they’re thinking of mothers and childhoods lost, and the melancholy sets in heavily over them.

“You know, Kyouya grew up much the same,” he says.

Haruhi turns to look at a bewildered Kyouya, who pushes up his glasses on reflex. But Tamaki smiles, continuing.

“Yes, he’s someone I can always depend on. But he’s not very good at asking for help, either.”

Kyouya glowers at the sheer audacity, only to startle as they both look at him with eyes far too affectionate. He shifts in place and looks down instead.

“But he has the whole Host Club looking out for him. So that even though sometimes, he doesn’t ask out loud, we can see it. And we’ll help.”

Here’s a pause. Tamaki swallows, leans forward, and bows.

“Haruhi, I’m sorry I yelled. I was angry because I was scared. That was my own fault, and you have every right to be upset.”

She rocks a little in her seat. “I’m sorry, as well. I don’t want to worry you guys.”

An absurd feeling grows in Kyouya’s chest. Half mirth, half despair.

Because he realizes: he doesn’t want her to be sorry at all anymore. She shouldn’t have to be sorry, she did nothing wrong . She acted to help, because it was more important to her than any consequence.

And now it’s clear: Haruhi has somehow become someone he truly cares about. Like Tamaki. Haruhi is something precious. Completely an agent of her own, and so trusting, and so kind. She’s earnest. She’s inherently good. He just wants her to be safe.

And he will never have any control over that.

The hysteria swells, threatening the structural integrity of his ribcage. All of the understanding he’s earned still won’t stop the fear that’s been crashing through him this whole night. He chokes down the laughter bubbling up and in his sheer desperation, looks at Tamaki.

It takes only one moment for Tamaki to read Kyouya’s distress, and in the next, he’s grabbing his hand, squeezing tight. And then he extends one to Haruhi.

“Haruhi, you don’t ever have to face things alone again. Will you let us be there for you?”

Kyouya has no control over how hard he squeezes Tamaki’s hand as they wait. He watches Haruhi’s own hands curl on her lap.

"I won’t be very good at it.”

"We aren’t either,” he says. She huffs. “It’s about the trying. Together .”

When she looks up, he's ready. Her eyes are searching, so he makes sure his own gaze is steadfast. He almost missed ever having this opportunity, he's fully aware. He won't let her down again.

“Okay,” she whispers. And takes Tamaki’s hand.

Relief blooms tangibly in the air. Haruhi’s eyes crinkle at Tamaki's relieved laugh. She opens her mouth to say something else, and-

Thunder shatters the room. Haruhi squeaks, yanking on his hand and hunching.

“Haruhi?” Tamaki leans forward, but-

Lightning strikes again, closer this time, and Kyouya feels the thunder slam into his eardrums. Haruhi yelps, trembling violently. She looks around the room, spots his dresser, and stands.

“Sorry! I- I uh- have to go now!”

“Don’t hide in the dresser,” Kyouya says, then feels foolish. Where had that thought come from? Why would she-?

But then she actually starts climbing into his dresser, and he and Tamaki have to hold the doors open.

“What- why would-? Haruhi, are you afraid of thunder?”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, this is how I always get through it,” she stammers, curling up inside.

“Not anymore,” says Tamaki, fiercely, and pulls her out into a hug.

“We have an American-style basement. It should be soundproof there, and there won’t be any flashing. Let’s head down now,” Kyouya decides. She’s trembling, clutching hard at Tamaki.

“I can’t- I’m not going to make it.”

“Close your eyes and cover your ears. We’ll get you there safe,” promises the Host Club prince, holding her even tighter.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Somehow they make it, the three of them hobbling to the basement. And somehow, the others find them, and they play games and music until they're almost all asleep on the various couches.

Kyouya’s turned off the lights and is just throwing a blanket over the twins when he hears her.

He’d thought she was asleep when he’d passed to drape a blanket over her on her own couch. Maybe she’s sleep talking, or maybe she woke up again. Either way, he stills, hoping she won’t spot him.

“You guys are even nicer than I thought,” she murmurs to the dark room. “Thank you, Kyouya-senpai.”

Despite himself, he smiles.

[swampgallows]

...

[[MORE]]

i can't fucking do anything right, i can't remember anything, i have my therapy at 230 tomorrow and my sleeping has been so fucked up that i don't even know if ill be rested enough to be cognizant. i don't even know what to do in therapy. i know i need it because I'm more suicidal than ever but nothing changes and I've been cut off from everything for so long and with the pandemic it's only gotten worse. all therapists ever seem to fixate on is getting me to go back to work instead of getting me to a point where i can work and also not spend my lunch breaks finding places to commit suicide at my workplace. it's all just like "here take meds so you can be like everyone else-- chemically, i mean, of course!!--and work a 9 to 5 job because Society Said So." like how is that gonna improve my mental health at all. is that gonna make me healthy or is it just gonna make me complacent

realizing lately i have a lot of internalized ableism as well because I'm sick of being pathologized for my idiosyncrasies. sometimes humans are just different and you don't have to crack the spine of the DSM whenever a person does something unusual. i guess it's resurfacing a lot of feelings from school where you draw something kinda weird or say something silly and people go "omg what were you ON" or "you would be SOOOO amazing drunk/high" like can you just chill and not chalk up my existence to some kind of fucked up brain chemistry. like can i at least have the illusion of being a person with free will

i keep flashing back to this conversation an old acquaintance had with me where i was talking about how a lot of adhd resources seem to help me, and some child psychologists thought i had adhd (even back then, when it was still add/adhd) just because i was smart but also rambunctious (because i was a literal child... in first grade...). and my buddy was like "oh, you're ADHD. for sure." and took a long drag of his cigarette and i was like what??? what makes you say that??? wouldn't it run in my family???? and he was so fucking patronizing, like the fact that i read a lot about my interests or that i got genuinely excited about things as an adult instead of having some "cool" detached passing interest or something... it infuriated me so fucking much because it reduced my human experience and feelings to just this totally bogus stereotype.

like maybe one day il find out for sure whether or not im adhd or on the spectrum or if it really just is hypo- and hypervigilance wrought by a lifetime of compounded traumas. i will try to be open to it. but reducing my lifetime to a stereotype is incredibly dehumanizing and i feel like it lessens the validity of the community as a whole. maybe i can get really immersed in shit without it being "hyperfocusing" or a hyperfixation. maybe i can use body grounding techniques that aren't "stimming".

on one hand maybe it normalizes those concepts so that neurodiverse people are better understood. but that's not my call to make. and while im not necessarily against self-diagnosis, i know that i am too biased toward my own experiences to tell. i know that i am mentally ill, and i know that i have PTSD, both from my own research and learning and from multiple professional diagnoses. but i don't have the map to my own brain, and i can't decide for myself whether or not im neurodiverse, so on that account it feels wrong and inappropriate for people to describe my behaviors with terminology that isn't for me.

just like i wouldn't want people to misuse other terms, i don't want people to think im autistic or adhd just because i fulfill certain behavioral stereotypes. to me it seems as harmful to armchair diagnose me for being "weird" as it does to assume people aren't neurodiverse because they aren't "weird enough" or whatever.

i dunno man. maybe i am neurodiverse, but let me have that journey on my own unless you can be supportive. i don't need a bunch of jerks infantilizing me like "heh told ya so, you freak" while ive been suffering all this time. until then im just trying different methods that might work for me without worrying about a label. if adhd coping mechanisms work for me and it turns out im not adhd? who cares! if it works it works. if it turns out i AM neurodiverse somehow?... it will take a lot of work to accept that and to forgive myself and others, but it will hopefully put me on the right track to figure out how to live a functional life.

thats all i really care about. i just want to be functional and stable and happy. i want to be able to be comfortable and to want things again. im tired of having to figure everything out all on my own without any help and for zero reward. im sick of not wanting to live and having nothing to look forward to. im sick of not wanting to be alive on planet earth. but i have to be. so i need to figure out how to do that without people telling me all the time that I'm "so smart" and "should be able to figure it out on my own".

i don't know how to want things. i don't know how to WANT to want to live.

[retroreaderr]

Hello! So... since harry potter is on your fandom list thing, is there any way a huge fan of yours could get a slightly angsty and incredibly fluffy oneshot or more if you get inspired with that precious bb Remus Lupin? It can be HP era or marauders era, up to you. Thanks so much!! :)

OK SO PLEASE SEND MORE HARRY POTTER STUFF BC REMUS IS MY BABE AND I LOVE HIM SM??? this is set in the marauders era but i am 1000% down to write some golden trio era stuff too !! also im like one of a solid 3 people in the fandom that doesnt subscribe to the whole andrew garfield as a faceclaim thing but hey mod gaston and i came up with alternates and we decided matthew gray gubler makes an adorable remus bc look at this babe ???? but hey yall can have ur hcs ill have mine  🕷️💋

“Hey James!” you flagged down the boy as he walked.

“____, what’s up?”

“Have you seen Rem? I wanted to ask him about some homework.”

“He’s, uh, out. Y’know,” he nervously scans the other students passing the two of you.

“Full moon tonight?” you ask keeping your voice low. He nods slightly.

“Listen, I promised I’d meet Pads before dinner -” he awkwardly motioned towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

“No, no it’s alright,” you turn to walk back down the staircase, “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

“Sure.”

You took a seat in one of the chairs of the Common Room, glancing around at the decor.

“Never been in Gryffindor’s before…” you mumble to yourself.

You watch as three particular troublemakers made their way from the boy’s dormitory towards you.

Sirius was the first to notice you, “____? What are you doing -”

“Got the password a while ago from a friend. Listen, I wanted to ask you something.”

“We’re kinda busy, can it wait till tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Listen, I know you guys usually spend the night with him, but -”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m his friend too, you know,” you sigh, “He tells me these kinds of things. Anyways, I was thinking…What if I went tonight?”

“I’m all for the fact that you wanna help a friend, ____, but you can’t come with us, it’s too dangerous.”

“I actually wanted to go alone.”

They all stared at you as if you were mad.

“Have you lost your damn mind?”

“James, listen, I’ve got a plan and -”

“No! It’s way too dangerous. Listen, ____, it’s nothing against you, but…It’s just…Too dangerous.”

“If you won’t let me go I’ll march right down to Dumbledore’s office and tell him about your little map you all use.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

James sighed, Sirius simply glared at you, and Peter stood behind them, clueless as always.

“When you get hurt don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

You get up from your seat and make your way towards the exit, “I’ll be fine.”

“How do you even know about the map anyways?” James calls after you.

“I told you, he tells me these kinds of things,” you smirk.

Your footsteps echoed off of the stone walls as you traversed the small passageway. You could still hear the thump of the Whomping Willow above you, and had it not been for the soft glow of your wand, you would’ve been left in complete darkness. After a few minutes of walking, you found yourself confronted with a small door above you, it reminded you of the entrance to a cellar. You pushed your way through it, being sure it was closed once you were through.

The house you stood in was dusty and decrepit, just standing in the hall you felt your anxiety levels rise. You slowly took your first step, and the floor under you creaked. You heard a shuffling from upstairs, and your eyes shot towards the ceiling, scanning it for any other signs of life. After a small period of silence, you took another step, this time towards the nearby staircase.

You heard the shuffling again, then a small thunk.

“Rem?” you whispered, hoping to hear him answer.

He didn’t.

You climbed the steps slowly, trying to make minimal noise. Your bag felt heavy on your shoulder despite its light weight.

At the top of the steps, you were faced with a door, half open already.

You reached out and pushed it, and watched as it slowly creaked open.

You saw him sat in the corner, his head buried in his knees, his breath rigid.

“Remus.”

His head shot up at the sound of your voice.

“____, what are you doing here?” his face was overwhelmed with worry, making the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent.

“You’ve got to leave, you gotta go, it - It’s not safe, you know -”

“Does it hurt?”

He stopped speaking, though his expression was still overcome with concern.

“What?”

“Does it hurt?”

He doesn’t acknowledge your question for a moment until he slowly nods, dropping his head back to his knees.

“Yeah,” his voice was muffled.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got to leave, though,” he suddenly stands, “You know it’s not safe -”

“I’m staying.”

He shakes his head as he approaches you, “Please, I don’t…” He finally is close enough to touch, and you watch your friend stare down at your hand - god how much he wanted to take it in his own, grab it and never let go - “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“I might,” he meets your eyes, “I can’t exactly control myself when…When it happens.”

You reach into your bag, pulling out a small object. You look at it before placing it in his hand.

“I know it’s your favorite.” He looks at the small candy bar before glancing back up at you, he had such pretty eyes, didn’t he? You never noticed how the green sometimes turned to a sort of blue -

“Thank you,” a small smile crossed his face, “But…You really do have to go.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“____-”

“At least let me stay for a little bit longer, then.”

He turned his head, looking out the window before glancing down at the chocolate, then to you.

“You can’t stay long.”

A smile spreads across your face.

“I don’t get how you stand me, really,” he leans his head back against the wall.

“Hm?”

“I mean, all I really am is a hassle, aren’t I? I just cause problems and I’m not worth your time, and -”

“Rem, you’re worth all the time in the world.”

“What I am is a monster.”

“What you are is kind, and cute, and shy and -”

“I don’t get why you like someone like me. Someone with my condition.”

“Because you aren’t defined by it. It’s a small part of a much bigger whole.”

“It’s a pretty big part of my life, if you ask me.”

“I’m not saying it’s not. I’m saying everything else about you, all that good, isn’t defined by that single negative. You’re too hard on yourself, Remus. You’re really a wonderful guy.”

“That’s not how I see it.”

“Well it’s how everyone else does. I’ll just have to teach you to see it my way, eh?” you nudge him playfully. He flashes a small smile again, and the sight makes your heart melt.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, just sitting, enjoying each other’s company. You almost forget why you’re there until suddenly you see him tense up.

“Rem?”

“You gotta go,” he breathes before letting out a grunt of pain and falling forward to the floor.

You felt your heart shatter at the sight of him in pain.

“Rem -” you reach out towards him, resting your hand on his shoulder. At your touch he jerks away.

“Go.”

“No.”

He’s shaking as he meets your eyes. His pupils dilate as his head lowers again, and he lets out a scream of pain. You wince at the noise, but stand your ground. His nails dig into the floor and his breath quivers as he bites hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood.

“Please,” his voice is weak.

“I want to stay.”

He jerks backwards, slamming against the wall. You look away as you hear the sickening snap of bone.

You slowly back towards the bed that sat in the corner of the room, unsure of what to do. He let out another groan of pain, though as it went on it became less human. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

There were a few more moments filled with the sounds of both bone and flesh contorting, and you hold your breath as the room becomes silent. You hear a small whimper, and you slowly open your eyes, and turn to face him.

You’d expected much worse, honestly.

He almost looked cute - his fur was shaggy, and the same shade as his hair. His robes were tattered but still clung to his body.

You let out the breath you held.

His amber eyes snapped up towards you, and you were struck with fear.

“Rem?” you whisper.

The wolf’s eyes softened for a moment, and he took a step towards you. You smiled and stepped away from the bed, towards him, and extended a hand to reach for him. He stopped walking, and you barely saw his pupils dilate once more before he let out a growl and leapt towards you.

You stumbled backwards, onto the bed and frantically grabbed around for your wand. Your fingers felt nothing but the cold and worn quilt of the bed as you heard another bark and the patter of nails against the hardwood floor. You barely rolled out of the way before you felt the pressure of another creature on the bed besides you. You clambered onto the floor, searching furiously for your wand. You spotted it a foot away, next to your bag. Crawling towards it, you barely making contact before you heard the howl of your friend beside you.

If you could even call it your friend - you knew it wasn’t really him.

“Rem, please,” you whimper, finally grabbing hold of your wand. You then pull yourself to your feet using the wall as support.

The wolf simply growled aggressively, and bounded towards you. He swiped at your arm, barely catching it and tearing your colored robes in the process. The action made you fall backwards, though you didn’t process the pain right away.

Your breathing quickened as the animal slowly approached you again, teeth bared.

“Remus, I know you’re in there somewhere. I know…I know…”

The beast paid no attention to your pleas and leaped towards you again, but before he made contact with you, your arm flew in front of you, wand in hand. You weren’t sure which spell you’d casted, as a thousand different ones had flown through your mind all at once, but whichever it was sent the wolf flying back into the wall. It landed on the ground, whimpering. You immediately felt a pang of regret and sadness, you had just hurt your best friend.

You slowly approached him, placing a hand on his soft fur.

“Rem?”

The wolf responded slightly to the noise, trying to lift its head. It let out a deep huff before resting back on the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry -” You placed your other hand onto its head, petting him. It seemed to lean into your touch, once again letting out a small whine.

Maybe it had hit its head too hard, or maybe you had somehow gotten through to him, but you knew then that you were safe. You sat down next to him, leaning against his torso, slowly stroking the fur of his neck. The scraps of robe that still stuck to him somehow only added to your comfort, reminding you of his true self.

You closed your eyes, and soon enough fell into a deep slumber, not even noticing that the wolf had adjusted its large body to somewhat wrap itself around you protectively.

It wasn’t the sunlight glaring through the window that woke you. It wasn’t even the cold. In fact, it was the lack of cold that had awoken you. You opened your eyes, still dazed from sleep. Your pillow rose and fell rhythmically, and you raised your head to look at it, confused.

Instead of the familiar four-poster you were used to sleeping in, you then realized that you lay on the hard-wood floor of a bedroom.

“Rem?” your voice was low and still veiled in slumber.

He lay below you, dark circles surrounding his eyes. Just the look of him made you exhausted, as though in some way you could share his burden of fatigue.

His arm is draped around your waist, and you make no attempt to move it as you lay back down against his chest, which is barely covered by his clothes.

The contact makes him shiver, and he opens his eyes, startled after being pulled from sleep.

He groans, taking a moment to asses the situation.

“____?” his voice is gravelly.

“Hm?” you snuggle closer to him, suddenly feeling the chill of the shack’s air.

“What are you…Oh god. Oh god, did I -”

“I’m fine, love.”

He stiffens at the name. You chuckle, then reach up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“____, I don’t understand…”

“Hm?”

“Why you’d risk your life for…Someone like me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I…I just…”

You look up at him again and see a few stray strands of hair draped over his face. You grin, once again reaching up to kiss him, though this time you capture his lips, and your eyes flutter shut as you do so. Despite his exhaust, he eagerly kisses back, and after you part he sighs, turning his head to stare out the window.

“Have you got classes today?”

“No.”

“Can we stay a while longer?”

“Of course, Rem.”

You hear an almost inaudible, “Yes!” from him.

You giggle as you cuddle closer to him, and he wraps his other arm around you, “Dork.”

[bookahdoit]

I just thought I'd finally share this. I'm an undiagnosed Aspie ( someone with Asperger's syndrome or ASD ), I've had this speculation for a long time now and have actually made an "about me" list. I'll be seeking a formal diagnosis hopefully next week. The thought of it is killing me or rather, making me really apprehensive that people might see me as just ""seeking attention"". It's nerve-racking tbh.

I always felt I was different, felt like this was more than just being anti-social ; something I was teased for during high school. Making friends is difficult even though someone would advice me to just be more “social” I still don’t understand how.

I avoid small conversation and eye contact, I would look at the person’s lips or mostly just shift my gazes to the side or whatever’s behind them. Why? IDK, looking into someone's eyes feels awkward and invasive. If I do talk, I am soft spoken but I don’t think I’m monotonous? I do have a low voice though. I go “off” when there’s too much social interaction a.k.a a shut down, I feel weary and just want to retreat somewhere I’m familiar with.

I love puns but some jokes, I need context to. People misunderstand me most of the time. I rehearse what I have to say so I won't screw up but I think I do. This is why I reply slow during IMs ahaha not because I'm ignoring you but because I gotta say things right, and why I don’t like RPing over IMs. I get really pressured and anxious.

I stim, yes, I rub my fingers together when I'm nervous, I pick at the skin on my lip, around my nails & at scabs, sometimes unaware I'm doing it. ( sorry this could be really disgusting to some ). I stare into space and talk to myself. out loud. in public. Sometimes even laugh when I remember something funny, which probably weird people out. I get upset when people touch my stuff and place it somewhere else.

I’m a visual learner! I prefer images over texts but when there’s too much happening in one picture, I get overwhelmed. Like, in video-games, they have this new compass implemented rather than a mini map. I HATE IT! and it messes me big time because there are so many things happening in one straight line hovering above the screen, it took me a while to understand how it works but I still hate it and wish they bring back the mini map.

Emotions are hard for me to express. I’d probably say “ oh this food’s great !” with a blank expression. but I CAN read people, so yeah I can tell if someone’s being fake or not. But I can't read body language well.

When I was a kid, my mum would say that I’m sensitive and weird. The voices of people around me tend to go faster in my head back then, it still happens at present but not as often. Did that make sense? I have a sensitive sense of smell, I hate flowers’ scents, for example.

I had meltdowns and just explode into tantrums. As I grew older those meltdowns lessen, but as an adult I can be very irritable. Remembering those episodes is really embarassing btw.

Obsessions or "Special interests" include: Vampires, Figures, Bill Willingham’s Fables, Deadpool, Pokemon & the Nintendo 2ds & 3ds line. I have a whole collection of vampire books, lore and history related ( I obsess over Vlad the Impaler haha! ), while Deadpool merch litter my room. I get very excited about vampires the most. Example: Overwatch has a new halloween event, they have 3 vampire related skins and I need & want to get them all! I was also very excited and giddy at the theory of a blood moon vamp brawl lmao. As for the Nintendo 3ds thing, I buy all variations of it when I can, I don’t specifically play a lot of games there, I just love how it looks and how the buttons feel? I still have to get the new 2ds XL,the texture on the cover looks sleek!  Pokemon has been an obsession since I was a kid! I have the cards, the games and some merch.

I’m also very addicted to video games since I was a kid but that seems very common even to neurotypical people... right? I LOVE videogames! And enjoy watching video game related content on youtube too, not just playthroughs but news and stuff like that. The latest titles,consoles and how those games were developed.

Low key feel that I hold a special interest in Adam, my OC. I am obsessed with drawing him, I research a lot for him more than my other OCs and I get very carried away with questions and memes. Possibly because he's a lesser known vampire species ( an amalgamation of the aswang and the strigoi ). May just be favouritism but I dont know, feels different. *Oh yeah! here’s a trivia: Gabriel, his son, is an Aspie lmao. He wasn’t easy to write though.

I overshare or provide too much information especially when it’s something I’m really passionate about (as seen above).

Do fidget toys work on me? LMAO yes, some do! it keeps me from picking at my skin mostly, they also work as sensory toys so there’s that. I like the fidget cube and have a couple of fidget spinners but I need a specific feel for it, like the center has to have this indentation for your thumb,  it just feels right for me somehow.

Growing up undiagnosed is pretty difficult especially in an environment where mental health is taboo where people claim that I'm seeking attention or in our language 'papansin'. For reference: I'm turning 25 and have scored a whopping 163/200 on an AQ test scoring above average on ASD and OCD, while my neurotypical results were below average 52/200. Of course I have to seek a psych for a formal diagnosis. But you know whats worse? being an aspie AND having depression RIP