#ive been really low energy since being back from break

[aamaranthiine]

been a slow comeback since ive been catching up at work. my receptionist quit right after i left for vacation, so ive been cleaning up that mess and taking over extra responsibilities.

im also doing overtime today and saturday. gonna be pretty low activity i think.

[justkidneying]

ANOTHER regen question!

Let's see if I phrase this one right it's been rolling in my brain a bit

Assumptions are the character heals a slower than Wolverine and they've just suffered some serious blood loss. Like they lost ~3L of it and the wound has now closed up and the body's working to create as much blood as possible.

Given how bone marrow is where blood comes from, what sorts of things might they have to deal with in the recovery period? Like, as the body is taxing the marrow like that (and/or whatever else it has to)?

I'm going to assume this is a ~200lb man, just to give some leeway. So a big guy like this would have maybe 6 liters of blood in him (most humans range from 4-6 L). If he loses ~3 L, I would say he would probably just die. If blood loss is >40%, that's a Class IV hemorrhage, which presents with absent peripheral pulses, hypotension (low blood pressure), and no peepee output. This person will go into hemorrhagic shock. Since they lack the oxygen-carrying hemoglobin that is found in blood, they will not be able to supply oxygen to their tissues. This stops the usually metabolic processes and switches the body to anaerobic metabolism, which makes lactic acid and very little ATP (energy). Lactic acid leads to acidosis. Acidosis leads to cell death, coma, and plain ole death. He will die.

But wait! He's got regenetative powers to save him, right? No. If his powers aren't magical, then he will still die. Because regeneration is based on being able to replicate cells very quickly, he would need to do it fast enough to beat the cells that are dying. Unfortunately, he doesn't have enough ATP to do normal cell stuff and make a bunch more. Replication of cells requires a lot of ATP (energy). So he will still die.

Now, let me answer the second question, and we will go back to when he is still alive. Let's change it so he only lost ~30% of his blood volume (1.8L). He's still not doing good (he has Class III hemorrhage) but he can live. This will present with pallor, coolness in the limbs, altered mental status, narrowing blood pressure (the top and bottom numbers are getting close together), increased respiratory rate, and increased heart rate. The body is trying to keep blood flow to the vital organs. Let's say he survives and now he's home and trying to recover.

Blood has a lot of things in it, but the important bits are plasma (the liquid bit which makes up ~55% of blood), red blood cells (they carry oxygen), platelets (for clotting) and white blood cells (part of the immune system).

The most important one here are the RBCs. 90% of plasma is water, and you won't die right away without the other ones. The body measures RBCs through the kidney. If the kidney sees that you don't have enough of them, then it sends a hormone (EPO) to the spongey inner bone where blood is made. EPO causes more stem cells to turn into RBCs (instead of WBCs or platelets). To make these, you need iron. The iron stores of the body will be used, and you will take up more iron from your food.

Overall, I'd say the guy will feel like shit, and he should probably take a break for about 3 months while he replinishes his blood supply. He should eat foods high in iron, maybe take an iron supplement. But he'll be anemic while he recovers and be low on those other blood cells. Honestly, his regen powers aren't that useful here. They were useful in fixing whatever caused the blood loss, keeping him from losing a ton of cells to blood supply issues, and that's about it. If he doesn't have an advanced factor, then he can't really be helped with making more RBCs.

I hope I answered your question, and thank you very much for asking it!

[youngpettyqueen]

I know your hyperfixations have switched at the moment (and that’s completely understandable, I’m not trying to pressure you at all and I hope this ask doesn’t come off that way) and I wanted to check: are you still planning on writing those Mash prompts from a while back?

I remember you mentioning that someone sent a Radar and Hawkeye one, and I want you to know—it doesn’t matter if it takes you like a year, I’ll be so delighted if a Queen fic with my brotp pops up.

hi hello!! dont worry anon this message doesnt come as pressuring at all. its a totally fair question

I do plan on still doing those! I still have them saved and ready to go. but yeah, between my hyperfixations shifting and also my energy being generally low lately, writing has been really difficult. I started a new job in September as a full time EA, which puts a lot of demands on both my time and my energy, hence why its been so long since ive posted any fic at all. I just genuinely have had not the energy to write like I was writing when I was posting more

im hoping to do some fic writing soon. my holiday break is coming up, im sure some will happen then. I really REALLY want to do the Hawkeye and Radar one, ive got a vivid image in my head, I just need to have the time and energy to do it

I might also get into DS9 fic writing so. stay tuned for that as well. no promises but I have Ideas

[glilboy]

Ateez reactions to finding you reading smut about them: Hyung line

ive had this idea for awhile and even requested it a few times from other writers but..i felt it was time to write it lol

tws under the cut

warning, this piece of fiction contains mentions of somnophilia, slight dom and sub dynamics, and general explicit topics.

Hongjoong:

You had attempted to stay up waiting for Hongjoong, deciding to reread one of your favorite stories in the mean time. Unfortunately that wasnt enough to keep you awake, you ultimately passing out and your phone tumbling onto the floor.

Hongjoong had a feeling you'd passed out since you didnt message him any "i miss you :(" texts after 11pm so seeing you knocked out on the couch was no surprise. He slowly padded over to you smiling softly, then noticing your phone on the floor and went to pick it up for you. He was never the kind to go through your phone but your smart self had no shut down timer which left the fan fiction on display for him.

He couldnt help but be curious seeing paragraphs of text and decided a little reading would do no harm. As he began to read though he felt his gut sweep, in a good way. He was honestly a little upset until he saw his name but when he read his name it was like all of exhaustion disappeared. Luckily he didn't have work the next day he thought to himself.

Sitting down on the couch with a plan he slowly nudged you awake. "Hi dear," he spoked softly with a smirk.

You rubbed at your bleary eyes and looked up at him, "Oh hi Joongie. Sorry I didn't mean to fall asleep." He smiled even bigger at you.

"Thats fine, it helped me find out something fun," he tucked your hair behind your ear. Still waking up you made a small "huh?" before seeing the phone in his hand.

"Oh..." you mumbled, starting to be awake enough to get it. You finally looked at him straight on and saw his signature devilish grin.

He moved his hand to slowly move up your thigh, giving it a small squeeze which elicted a sigh out of you. "Didn't think you'd read stuff like that Y/N, but I guess you're just full of surprises huh doll," the pet name made you shiver, Hongjoong never having used that one before.

"I'm sorry Joongie," you mumbled into your arm, face now red. His hand moving up to cup your core and grind his hand into it making you whimper softly.

"Oh dont be sorry dolly, just shows me that you really miss me."

Seonghwa:

Saying Seonghwa was caring was an understatement in a way. Despite his busy schedule he made it a point to showed he cared in different ways. One thing he always did was if you left your phone out at all he would put it on the charger for you. Small things!

Today though he had come home earlier than usual while you were taking a quick shower. Seeing your phone on the counter he waltzed over setting his stuff down to throw it on the charger even if it wasn't that low. He noticed you left it on, open to a book he assumed enough.Him being the lovely man he is he wanted to read a bit to see what you liked and possibly buy you a physical copy. Written porn with his name in it though was not what he was expecting.

Seonghwa gulped, setting down your phone with his hands shaking and his face now flushed pink. He took a deep breath and set down his bag, running his fingers through his hair now being surprisingly worked up. A part of him felt embarrassed for being turned on by the writing but at the same time he knew you didn't read it for no reason.

"Hwa! You're home early hello!" You ran up to him giggling, now clean and dressed in some sweats.

"Hey babe, yeah we got let out early cause we learned the new choreography fast enough. They asked us if we wanted to do more vocal practice but none of us did," He laughed, trying to shift his legs to hide his slight erection.

"None of you stay late ever," you giggled sarcastically up at him. "Well, I was gonna take a nap. Do you want to? I'm sure you're tired."

He nodded softly and took your hand walking to your guys bedroom talking about your day. He changed himself into more comfortable clothing then joined you in bed, you curling into him quickly. Once you settled Seonghwa felt he could actually breathe, feeling like a middle schooler just for getting more worked up from having you close. He heard your breath settle which is when he shifted away a bit from you.

"Fuck..." He mumbled, having the space now laying on his back to palm himself over his erection. Looking over at your sleeping face made it worse, the piece you had opened having involved somnophilia. One thing he never had the guts to suggest to you despite having such an open relationship.

He didn't notice your eyes flutter open at the movement. You only just fell asleep so you were in no means in too deep. You decided to play it though, closing your eyes and throwing a leg over his waist as if you were just adjusting in your sleep.

He inhaled a sharp breath and bit his lip now mildly frustrated at the whole situation. Mumbling a fake sleepy "Hwa" you moved to straddle the man hearing a childish sigh escape his lips.

"If you keep moving, I swear to god," He mumbled out loud thinking youre still asleep since you had always been a chaotic sleeper.

"And what will you do about it horny kid," you giggled against his neck. You could feel his body tense.

"Go back to sleep and I'll fuck you like your sick little fantasy, how about that hm?"

yunho:

Rain was beating against the window as you cuddled up on the couch with your phone in hand. Yunho was on the other side of his personal office playing video games. It was a chill day but something in the air was setting you slightly off the edge.

Besides the sweet glances and cheesy smiles thrown at each other, your screen was very much the opposite of innocent pure love. Getting indulged in the story you started to zone in, missing some of his looks making Yunho curious as to what your interest was delved into currently.

"Be right back guys," he said into the mic mischievously. Quickly making his way over he slipped the phone out of your hand, this behavior wouldve typically been fine but because of the contents on your screen you gasped and reached out for your phone. "You doing something naughty or do you just like acting suspicious?" he grinned before looking at your phone.

His face feel reading the paragraph of a particularly nsfw scene. You were now sitting up staring at him wide eyed, "yuyu please oh god its not what you think, i think." Silence filled the room, the only noises being the sound of his running pc and the dull chatter of the other boys.

"Do you read this often?" he said out of hesitation and pure curiosity, almost feeling that he violated your private space. He kind of got the gist of it all right away, thankfully for your sake.

"Not all the time but i mean, you are busy yunho," you tried to softly explain knowing this was odd territory.

"Do you...ever want to try it," he says, getting to the end of the page and looking at you.

"I can't say that..none of them aren't, nice," the air was filled with an awkward energy that could suffocate another person if they came in at such a weird time.

The two of you stood there for a second, until he moved towards you and took your hand. He placed it on his bulge and you sucked a breathe in.

"Take off my pants," he ordered, a strange harsh tone to his voice. For you guys there was never set roles, not any dom or sub dynamic but it wasnt vanilla per say so him speaking like this was new. Besides that, you did as he said and pushed your thumbs under the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down his legs.

Silently he took your hand then sat down on his gaming chair, pulling out his large cock. He slipped on his headphones before looking up at you with a shit eating grin.

"Sit down, i can tell youve been dying too babe."

yeosang:

You were waiting for yeosang to come home after a shorter than usual practice, deciding to pass the time by indulging in your secret world. In the midst of browsing your favorite blogs you didn't hear the door open, this event made you learn not to have headphones in when participating in such activities.

Walking in, Yeosang looked around for you and spotted your figure on the couch. He slowly moved near with a secret motive of scaring you when he glanced at your phone seeing a photo of him paired with a lot of writing. Tilting his head curiously he squinted to read the text, reading along with you until his face flushed.

Sucking in a breath slightly he moved back to the door, playing off him just entering. You noticed his figure walking towards you and sneakily turned off your phone and got up to greet him.

"Hey babe, it's nice to see you in the sunlight," you giggled and wrapped your hands around his waist. You noticed him hesitantly wrapping his arms around you, causing you to pull away.

"Hey, whats up? you seem a bit off?" you pouted and brushed the hair out of his eyes, not catching the little blush.

"Yeah yeah babe, I'm fine. promise," he cleared his throat and pulled away, making your heart sink a bit. He practically completely ignored what you actually said.

"No Yeo, I- did I do something wrong? Or just a long day?" you pried knowing something was up.

Shifting awkwardly on his feet he looked up at you, his hair back in his face. "I um, saw what you were reading."

The color drained from your face, mouth slightly hanging not knowing what to say. You thought he was pissed, was going to leave and break up with you but right when you were about to talk he spoke again.

"C-can we do that?"

A moment of silence passed and you looked up at him, your boyfriend who was typically very soft and gentle in bed. Knowing what you were reading was likely pretty heavy in his book, you became worried. "Yeo, I just read it. It means nothing I don't want to make you uncomforta-"

His lips cut yours off and one hand entangled in your hair, his other guiding you to the wall by your hip. Back flush against the way you pulled away after a moment to see his eyes wide and sweat already beading down his temple.

"I've wanted to do that, just didn't want to scare you dear."

[darkmulti]

King of Hell

BTS

Series : part 1

Pairing: demon!Jungkook x human!Female Reader x demon!Taehyung x demon!Jimin

Genre: Angst & Smut

Word Count: 4.3K

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! READ WARNINGS CAREFULLY!

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A/N: SHAIWJW, IVE BEEN “WRITING” THIS FIC SINCE LAST YEAR, HOLY FUCK. Anyways I hope you enjoy this shitty story:)

These are the warnings for the entire series!! This is a dark fanfic that is not meant for everyone! If these warnings trigger you, please leave!!

Smut Warning(s): multiple smuts, cockwarming, face slapping, saliva kink, thigh riding, humiliation, heavy degradation, dacryphilia kink, threesome, anal, blowjob, somnophilia kink, mirror sex, choking, spanking, hair pulling, rough sex, mix of ddlg, sleep sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, begging, small bits of praising, marking, fear kink, cum shots, cum eating

Other Warning(s): possessive!Jungkook, blood, murder, torture, physical abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, submissive reader

I’m probably missing something...

THIS FIC CONTAINS NON CONSENSUAL SEX! PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

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Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this was wrong. But did she care?

No.

The girl laid supine on her boss's desk, sore legs bound around his torso, caging him in. His hand gently kneads her sensitive breast, earning soft moans from her. She grabbed his tie and tugged on it until he leaned down and passionately kissed her. The man gently pulled her up and swiftly wrapped his shapely arms around her body. She pulled away first, eager to catch her breath.

The excessive tension in the overheated room was unbearable. Her head remained low in embarrassment while her boss burned her with his gaze. To break up the tension, she awkwardly clears her throat and hops off his desk. For some reason, she desperately wanted to apologize but stopped herself. From what she remembers, her boss was undressing her with his eyes, so she let him have it. Deciding she’s not going to apologize, she frantically pulled up her skirt and opened the door to leave.

However, her boss was faster than her and instantly closed it again. He cupped her cheeks and attempted to kiss her again, but she stepped away. “I’m sorry, Dr. Kim. It’s getting late and my apartment is far from here, so I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Taehyung scowled at her. It was insulting to him. No one has ever rejected his touch. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and flung her onto his desk. She groaned in pain, protecting her injured side. Taehyung clutched her face and attached his lips onto hers, kissing her like it was his last time. She instinctively kicked her legs at him, but that made him more belligerent.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” She yelled, throwing her hands against his chest, trying to get him off. Unfortunately, she was no match for him. Taehyung pinned her down without a struggle and pulled her skirt down again. “I tried being nice, princess. But now you’ve gotten on my nerves.” He growled, forcing his cock in, despite her screaming at him to stop.

A sadistic smirk appears on his face as he picks up his pace. His warm cock fitted inside of her perfectly. It was like they were made for each other. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, enjoying the feeling to the fullest. While Taehyung was on cloud nine, the girl was bawling her eyes out underneath him. “T- Taehyung! Stop! It h- hurts!” She sobbed uncontrollably, breath hitching. Her vision started to blur as she felt her energy drain out of her writhing body. She's never endured this much pain.

Taehyung grunts as he pushes himself forward one last time before cumming in her. “Fuck! You feel so good, baby.” He leaned down and licked her tears away. He then created a trail of hickeys along her jawline, down to her collar bone. “How about another round, babe?”

“No, no! Please, no! It hurts!” She hiccuped, putting her hands together. “Please, Dr. Kim. I’ll do anything except for this! I c- can give you money… if you’d like.” Taehyung couldn’t help himself. Watching her beg for mercy was a turn on. “I don’t need your filthy money, slut. Now stay still or else you're fired.”

He ruthlessly entered in again. She let out a painful whimper but didn’t dare to move because her job was on the line. Taehyung held her hips down and quickened his pace. The helpless girl was fighting off the urge to push him away with all her remaining strength. Soon enough, her legs trembled on their own as ripples of forced pleasure went through her body. More tears gathered in her fearful eyes. A minute passed, she was still sprawled on his desk, catching her breath. “C- can I pl- please leave now?” She faintly whispered, on the verge of passing out.

Taehyung pulled her ragged skirt up then pulled her upright. He moved her hair out of her face and tenderly caressed her cheek, admiring her face. “You won’t tell anyone about this, understand?” She sobbed but nodded her head. “Good… get your stuff, I’ll drive you home.”

“No, sir. It’s okay. I’ll call a taxi. You can go home.” Taehyung’s eyes darkened. He grabbed her neck and squeezed it. “You’re making me repeat myself, Y/N. You out of all people should know how much I hate doing that. Now for the last time, get your shit and I’ll drive you home.” He took a step back and followed her to her office. She quickly grabbed her purse and jacket, then they both headed out.

The car ride home was silent. She didn't dare to speak a word. Not after what he did to her. All she could do is keep her head down and play with the hem of her shirt. Taehyung glanced over at her here and there, but he too didn’t speak a word. He looked in his rear view mirror and spotted his best friend sitting in the back, staring at “his” girl. “Keep your eyes off of her. She’s already taken, Jungkook.”

Y/N flinched when Taehyung started talking. “Huh? Are you talking to me?” She asked, confused. Red flags were popping up but she couldn’t exactly jump onto the highway. She bit down on her lip and waited for a response. “Took you a while to detect my presence, Taehyung. I thought you could do better.” She immediately turned around and saw a man sitting in the middle seat, legs spread apart. His long, jet-black hair almost veiled his eyes, and he was covered in tattoos. “Who the hell are you?!” She slightly yells, clearly startled by the man. “I wouldn’t raise my voice if I were you, sweetheart. Anyone who disrespects me will regret it for the rest of their life and afterlife.” Jungkook mockingly said, confusing the girl even more. She turned to Taehyung for an explanation, but he simply rested his hand on her thigh. “Calm down, angel. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“Bold of you to say that, Taehyung. You really think you can take me on?” Jungkook challenged.

“To keep her by my side, I’d knock you over without hesitation.” Taehyung said with a dull expression on his face.

“Don’t tell me you have feelings for this girl. Man, you keep letting me down. First living in the mortal world and now, falling in love. What’s next? Marriage? Family planning? Pathetic, Kim Taehyung. If Jimin were here, he’d be laughing his ass off.”

“If you have nothing nice to say, leave. I thought you didn’t enjoy the mortal world.”

“I don’t, I just wanted to see what my dearest friend is up to. I’m astonished, however. You managed to keep that unpleasant side of yours a secret.”

Taehyung glanced at his girl. Her face was pale and if you looked closely, she was shaking. Taehyung stroked her thigh in a soothing manner, signinally her to calm down. Out of fear, she clings to Taehyung’s hand tightly. This didn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. He sensed her fear the moment she sat in the car. He enjoyed watching her crumble apart in the passenger seat. She looked vulnerable and afraid, he wanted to ruin her innocent looking face.

“Stop gawking at my girlfriend, Kook. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“No, I actually don’t. Next month, I’ll be announced king, but until then, I’ll hang around you and this lovely princess.”

From that point on, Taehyung knew he couldn’t leave her alone. If he did, Jungkook would 100% hurt her or even worse, mark her as his own. Jungkook’s one selfish bastard. He will always put himself before others. Taehyung immediately knew Jungkook was attracted to her; he could tell just by observing the way Jungkook looked at her. But he wasn’t going to let Jungkook have her too. Originally, Taehyung was supposed to be king, but Jungkook was stubborn and wanted to fight for the title. Taehyung didn’t want to fight his best friend, so he willingly surrendered.

30 minutes later, he finally arrived at her apartment. She quietly thanked Taehyung for the ride, then got out. However, Taehyung turned off his engine and got out of his car. “I’m staying with you tonight.” Without question, she nodded her head and grabbed Taehyung’s hand. She was terrified of what was going on. Of course she wanted an explanation, but Taehyung seemed to be protecting her. Therefore, she thought it’d be the best to stay with him until she knows exactly what’s going on.

She opened her apartment door and set her purse and jacket on the table. “I’m gonna go shower… Make yourself at home... I guess.” She mumbled the last part and headed to her bathroom until Taehyung stopped her. “Mind if I join?” Taehyung hinted he needed to talk to her so she said yes. Meanwhile, Jungkook plopped down on the couch with his arm behind his head. “Got any bourbon?” He yelled and she responded, “the cabinet behind you has all the liquor I own.”

Taehyung pulled her into the bathroom and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry! I fucked everything up for you.”

“Taehyung, what are you talking about?” She worriedly asked. Taehyung looked at the door then quickly turned the shower on. “We have to be quiet. He might hear us.” “Please tell me what’s going on! Who is he? How did he get inside your car?!” She whispers as calmly as she can. “His name is Jeon Jungkook. Next month, he'll be announced king of hell. He’s a very powerful demon and currently, he’s looking for his queen. Someone who can be the mother of his children and someone he can somewhat tolerate. Y/N, he has his eyes on you. You need stay around me, so I can protect you. I know I hurt you not too long ago, but trust me on this one. Jungkook has anger issues and if he gets a hold of you, you will be his punching bag for eternity.”

“Demon? King of hell? Are you hearing yourself right now?” She whispers louder, being unable to control her anger and concern. “I’m not lying, Y/N. How else did he get into my car. Do you remember our conversation in the car? He said he didn't like the human world.”

“What about you? What are you?!”

“I’m a demon too.”

“Prove it because I don’t believe-” Taehyung towers over her and his eyes turn black. His teeth become insanely sharp and black, thick horns start coming out of his head. She stood there, staring at his true form. She reached out and touched his cheek which was freezing cold. “Demons are real?” She faintly whispered. “Take your clothes off. He’s coming.” Taehyung’s out of his clothes in a blink of an eye but she didn’t want to remove her clothes. Taehyung heard Jungkook getting closer, so he ripped her clothes off and pushed her in the shower. He followed behind and pinned her against the wall, kissing her forcefully. “He’s looking through the door, pretend you're enjoying it so we're unsuspicious.” She surprisingly listens and returns the kiss. Taehyung picks her up, and she wraps her legs around his waist, allowing him to enter her. “Moan loud for me, baby.” The girl digs her nails into his shoulder and releases her needy moans.

Jungkook was standing in the door way, watching Taehyung fuck the living out of her. What he would do to be in his position. A part of Jungkook was telling him to kill Taehyung and take his place. However, the other half of him knew that it would create a war between the Kim’s and the Jeon’s. Centuries of feuds have been going on between the two families and it finally ended when Taehyung’s father made a peace offering and Jungkook’s dad happily accepted. From there on, Taehyung and Jungkook grew up together as best friends. Jungkook stopped himself from making a big mistake but continued watching the two fuck.

Taehyung came in her one last time before pulling out and cleaning her up with some water. She clung onto Taehyung because she had no more feeling in her legs. Her clit was burning from the overstimulation, but she wasn’t complaining because it felt so good. He carried her back to her room and wiped her body off with a towel. Jungkook went back to the couch and tried to relax his mind. For some reason, her moans kept playing in his head and before he knew it, he was hard. “Shit!” He angrily muttered.

After tucking Y/N in, Taehyung came to the living room to see what Jungkook was doing. Jungkook was leaning on the balcony railing, staring at the full moon. “If you want, you can crash at my place.” Taehyung said, fiddling with his house keys. “Nah, I think I’ll stay right here… By the way, your girlfriend is hot. If she ever wants to have a threesome, tell her-”

“She doesn’t, Jungkook. One man is good enough for her.”

“That’s too bad. Well, tell her if she gets tired of you she can come to me any time and anywhere.” Jungkook cockishly smiled, raising one eyebrow. “Stop with the jokes, will you?” Taehyung's voice got deeper because he’s had enough of Jungkook’s irritating comments. “I’m going to bed now. Sleep on the couch or wander on the street, I don’t care. Just don’t kill anyone.” Taehyung said before leaving Jungkook alone on the balcony. “I'll try not to.”

Taehyung opened the door and saw Y/N struggling to fall asleep. He quickly got into her bed and pulled her into his comforting embrace. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now.” He carefully laid her face on his chest then ran his fingers through her smooth hair. “I love you so much. You don’t even know how long I’ve been watching you.”

“How long?” She whispers back. “First year of university was when I first saw you. Ever since then, I’ve been looking out for you.” She giggled and wrapped her arms around his body. “Why didn’t you talk to me?” Taehyung smiled, remembering why. “I’m a little shy.” She climbed up his chest and kissed him on the lips. “Is he gone?” She asked, tracing lines on Taehyung’s chest. “He’s gonna crash on your couch. Sorry about him, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay.”

Soon, silence took over the room and the girl fell asleep on Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung continued to play with her hair and trace her back until the door slightly opened. He saw Jungkook in the doorway and sighed. “What do you want now?”

“Her.”

Everything happened rapidly. The door swung open and all Taehyung saw were 2 red eyes staring him down. Before he could react, Jungkook knocked him out and pinned the girl’s body down. He entered into her sore cunt, causing her to wake up. As soon as she saw Jungkook’s face, she started to scream and fight. “Stop! Taehyung, help me!” She shook Taehyung’s body, but he was unresponsive. “What did you do to him?!”

“Shut up and cooperate with me or else I’ll take you to hell.” Jungkook swiftly got into a better position and let his raging boner free. The bed frame began banging against the wall harder and harder each time. Y/N was in a state of shock. She didn’t know what to do. Jungkook viciously thrusted into her and held her down by her neck. “No! Please! Stop!” Jungkook flipped her around and took her from behind. He spanked her ass multiple times, leaving his hand print on her skin. He pulled out and got up from the bed, dragging her along with him. “Look at yourself, you fucking slut.” Jungkook pulled her hair and forced her to look at herself in the mirror. “Watch me fuck you, slut. If I see your eyes aren’t open, I’ll slit your family's throat and send you pictures.”

“No! No! Please don’t! I- I won’t close my eyes, I promise.” Jungkook thrusted in again and had no mercy on her. Tears were rushing down her face but didn't once close her eyes. Jungkook deliberately went faster seeing if she could handle the pain. It took a lot out of her, but she didn’t want to put her family in danger so she listened to every order. Jungkook continued fucking her hard. He could sense the fear that was taking over her body. She was shaking and silently crying, but it merely encouraged him to go faster. At last, he pushed his whole length in and came deep inside her. She squirted around him and collapsed on the floor. “No more, please” “Get on your knees, now!” She whimpered but got on her knees. Jungkook didn’t waste a second to shove his whole cock in her mouth. He grabbed her face and started fucking her throat as fast as he could. After some time, hot cum was running down her throat as he finally pulled out. The poor girl was choking on her own saliva when Jungkook clutched her hair and spat in her mouth.

Jungkook wanted to go for another round, but someone hit his head, knocking him out. Jungkook fell to the floor, revealing a conscious Taehyung. He immediately picked her off the floor and hugged her tightly. She started sobbing on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. We have to leave.” He quietly spoke. Taehyung quickly cleaned her up and gave her some warm clothes to wear. He carried her out of the apartment and into his car. He quickly dialed someone’s number and stepped on the gas.

“Hello?”

“Jimin! Take your fucking brother back to hell. He’s lost his fucking mind. He knocked me unconscious and raped my girlfriend.”

“Holy shit! Where is he?”

Taehyung quickly informs Jimin of Jungkook’s location.

“I’ll pick him up. Just find a safe place, Tae.”

“Yeah, I will.”

—————————————————-

After receiving the call from Taehyung, Jimin rushed to Jungkook. He was still on the floor, passed out. “How hard did you hit him, Taehyung?” Jimin muttered before bringing Jungkook back to hell and chaining him up.

Jungkook woke up with his head pounding. He groaned and looked at his surroundings. “What the hell?” He spoke in a raspy voice. “Wake up, brother. Taehyung informed me you were up to no good.” Right, that bastard Taehyung, he thought. Memories of last night came rushing to his head and he couldn't help but smile. “Where’s Y/N?” Jungkook asked, replaying last night in his head. “Y/N? As in Taehyung’s girlfriend?”

“Don’t call her Taehyung’s girlfriend. Soon, she’ll find her way back to me.”

“Brother, I knew you were absurd, but fucking Taehyung’s girlfriend? Really?”

“You’ve never seen her before, so you won’t understand. But as soon as you get close to her, I ensure you, you won’t be capable of controlling yourself.”

“I’ll see for myself.” Jimin said before getting up and closing the heavy metal door, leaving Jungkook alone.

————————————

1 month later

After the incident with Jungkook, Y/N and Taehyung got into a serious relationship. Every single day, Taehyung worked on becoming stronger to protect his beloved. He felt remorseful for placing her in this kind of situation, so the least he could do is protect her. Y/N was deeply in love with Taehyung. At first, she kept telling herself she only wants him around so he can keep her safe, however she couldn’t help herself. She let go of what he did in the past and focused on the present.

“Taehyung! I’m home!” Taehyung pops his head from the kitchen and she swiftly runs into his embrace. “I missed you.” She pouted her lips and kissed him. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“I missed you more.” She giggles at his response and pecks him all over his face. Taehyung picked her up and sat on the couch with her on his lap. A sweet make out turned into a heated one quickly. She tugged on his shirt then removed it for him and he did the same for her. “How about we try something different?” Taehyung placed her on one of his thighs and placed both of his hands on her ass. “Ride my thigh, angel.” She started moving slowly, unsure of how it might feel. Once her clit started getting some stimulation, she kept going faster and faster, falling apart in Taehyung’s arms. She clenched and came around nothing while Taehyung attacked her tits with his mouth. He left a trail of hickeys all over her upper chest. Taehyung came in his pants just from watching her and feeling her juices leak onto his thigh.

They both eagerly kissed each other until Y/N pulled away. “Can we go out for dinner? I don’t feel like cooking today.” She panted, playing with Taehyung’s hair. “Of course we can.”

——————————————-

The long-awaited day had finally come. The crowd was larger than it ever had been. Everyone came down to watch the ritual and pay their respects to the new king. Torches were pointed downward, symbolizing death. In the middle of the stadium, there was a massive platform. On the platform, there was a throne, a crown, a pentagram and a tied up angel for the sacrifice. Jimin and his father stood side by side, wearing black suits. The crowd went silent when everyone detected a compelling, cold presence. Jungkook revealed himself from the shadows in his true form. He was shirtless with only a thin fabric wrapped around his waist. He walked to the platform and laid down on the pentagram. Everyone knew, this was the beginning of a new chapter.

Moments later Jungkook was screaming in pain. His body became a portal for all the previous kings. They were passing their abilities down to him, resulting in Jungkook's chest and back being burned. Everyone in the audience stood up and started chanting. Jungkook sat upright and headed towards the angel who was pleading for mercy. He manipulated his sharp nail and slit their throat, killing them in a matter of seconds. He attached his mouth onto their neck as the chanting got louder. The warm, thick liquid gliding down his throat was incredibly addictive. Jungkook could feel his power triple in seconds. He tossed the deceased angel away like a rag doll then faced his people. He stretched his wings and grew out his horns.

“I am honoured to be your new king. Thank you to everyone who came to watch the ritual. Please know I’ve acknowledged your presence and respect. I greatly appreciate it.”

Everyone applauded for Jungkook. Surviving the ritual requires an enormous amount of strength. Jungkook has proved to everyone that he is worthy of being king.

——————————-

“Are you ready? I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.” Taehyung said, sitting down on the couch. He was dressed up in his black suit and tie, looking flawless like always. 5 minutes had passed, and he still hadn’t heard a word from her. “Angel? What’s taking so long? Do you need help with your dress?” Taehyung walked back to their shared bedroom only to see Jungkook holding her down with his sharp nail on her neck. “I’m giving you two options, Taehyung. Let me have her, and I won’t hurt her or, she dies, I take her back to hell and torture her for eternity. What will it be, Taehyung?” All Taehyung saw was red. Without realizing, he changed into his demon form and attacked Jungkook. He managed to get him off of her, but strength and power wise, Taehyung was no match. Jungkook punched him over and over, until his nose and jaw was broken.

“Fuck you, Jungkook. I let you have everything! I gave it all up for you because I wanted to be a good friend! One good thing happens in my life and you fucking take it away!” Taehyung yelled, managing to punch him one last time. Y/N sprinted off the bed and rushed to Taehyung’s side. She didn’t care that Jungkook was there, all she cared about was Taehyung. “Taehyung! You’re bleeding! What should I do?! Should I call the ambulance?!” Taehyung looked into her eyes and his heart softened. Tears were streaming down her face. She was actually worried about him. Even after he revealed his true form, she stayed by his side. Does that mean she loves him? Taehyung slightly smiled. “I’ll be alright, love. I’ll heal by tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t.” Jungkook interjected as he got up and kicked Taehyung’s head. “STOP!” She screamed, protecting Taehyung with her body. She wrapped her arms around his head so Jungkook couldn't kick him. “C- can’t you see he’s hurt?! Leave him alone!” She bawled. “I’m not going to leave him alone until he makes a decision. So Taehyung, what will it be?” Taehyung wrapped his arms around her waist, refusing to let her go. “There are billions of other people in the world. Why do you want MY girlfriend?!”

“Don’t question me, Taehyung. Now give me her, or I’ll have to forcefully take her.”

Y/N started sobbing on Taehyung’s shoulder. “Please don’t take him away from me. I love him. Please don’t.” She begged, her tears staining Taehyung’s shirt. Jungkook was slowly starting to lose his temper. He massaged his temples then grabbed her arm, prying her off and away from Taehyung. “If you don’t come back with me to hell, I’ll kill Taehyung right here right now. Or better yet, I’ll make you help me kill him.”

Y/N began to shake. “Please don’t hurt him. I’ll go back with you.”

“No! Y/N he’s going to hurt you! Jungkook you can kill me but leave her alone after I die. You break the promise and will die too.”

“No, Taehyung! I can’t let you die! You can’t leave me alone!” Jungkook pushed the girl back and kicked Taehyung in the stomach. “If you want her so badly, you’re going to have to fight me.” With that, Jungkook turned around, picked her up and disappeared. “NO! Shit! Shit!” Taehyung cursed at himself.

Once again, he failed to protect his love.

——————————————————————————

Uhhh, hi🤠

This is terrible and I’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to your expectations. I completely understand because many people have been waiting for this fic to release and it’s not even good. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed what part 1 has to offer. At first, I didn’t want to make this into a series because I’m very inconsistent. However, I had a sickening plot in mind that I really wanted to do, so the next best option was to make this into a series.

I know, not a lot of Jimin was in this, but the next couple of parts will have him.

xoxo,

naina❣️

[animesllut666]

Regret and Forgiveness (Part 2)

Characters: Megumi x FReader ft. Gojo Satoru, Itadori Yujii, Shoko, Nobara.

Anime: jujutsu kaisen

Type: Imagine

First part: Here

Warnings: forced kiss, brief fighting, sadness, mention of blood, arguing, self doubt, angst, fluff at the end, cult, not proof read fully, mention of hair, IVs, hospital.

Summary: After being seriously injured from a mission. Gojo steps in and takes you to the infirmary to get bandaged up. And Megumi, starts to feel regret and realizes his actions and words have not been that of a great boyfriend.

A/N: Hello! So I had gotten asked for a part two, so here it is! I hope.yall like it!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"So, he is just going to leave us here for the time being? No one is going to wa-" The first year started to speak, before Megumi shot him a look that made his words get lodged in his throat.

"Did you not just see my girlfriend get carried away, literally bleeding and unconscious?!" Megumi shouted at him, his face turning a shade of red at the anger bubbling up. "Yeah, I did, but did you see her get thrown or even dodging those attacks? It wasn't even THAT bad, so over dramatic," He spoke crossing his arms in front of his chest, unaware of the killer look on Megumi face.

"W-What? And yet, you didn't even try to he-"

"Neither did you, so don't be trying to blame this on me. Or pick a fight, you were to busy fawning and worrying for me to even notice your own girlfriend becoming food."

Megumi went silent after that, standing a little straighter, cuz really what could he say to that? He was worrying over him, instead of his girlfriend that was taking the full force of the fight. Trying to focus the attention of the curse on her, instead of them.

"If it wasn't for the fact that you can't fight, or even muster up any kind of energy. I wouldn't have to worry about you," Megumi told him, watching his eyes grow wide at the rebuttal. "That was a low blow, Maki has no cursed ene-"

"Maki can fight, and has been training her ass off since she showed up here. Don't even try to mention her in this, or even compare yourself to her. You on the other hand, are always complaining and putting zero effort into anything, so really why are you here?"

"Ugh, Megumi and Akio, ca-" Itchai spoke up, his nerves ok high alert as he watched the two students argue. Though, neither one spoke to him and they were to busy shouting at one another.

"You want to know? It's because of you, Ive heard about you. The gloomy, and reserved 10 shadows user, I wanted to meet you an-"

"You literally are risking your life, so you could meet me? Seriously?! Are you crazy or -"

"My mother wanted me to see if you'd join our cult, we could use someone like you. You'd be the perfect match! Your father was with us, and we thought that you'd also join," Akio spoke, a crazy look in his eyes as his face twisted into a sinister smile. Hands reaching out towards Megumi, as he spoke on, "But then, I got to know you and be around you. Id been watching you for a long time, even before I started here. And I.. I think we really are meant to be, your sign and mine are a perfect match. Just dump that dumb bitch, she doesn't deserve you, look how she treated you tod-"

"Well, you heard all of that, correct Yaga?" Gojo hollered, grabbing Akio by his collar, pulling him backwards towards Yaga. Akio back slamming into Yaga chest, "What.. W-What how long have you guys been there?" Akio stuttered, pulling away from Yaga, but getting his hands pulled behind him cuffs quickly locked on his wrists. "Your going to the chamber to be spoken with, and questioned. Let's go Satoru, Itachi is here, he can tak-" Yaga stopped talking as Akio lunged forward towards Megumi, breaking the cuffs, his hands clapping around his head.

"I LOVE HIM, I CANT LEAVE LIKE THIS!" He shouted, moved Megumi head toward his own, lips connecting. Megumi shocked, reacted quickly, taking Akio legs out first and pushing him away. Rage racing through his veins as he stepped forward, but Gojo stopped him before he was able to do anything else.

"Don't, it's not worth it. He'll be getting much worse now that he sexually assaulted a student on top of other acts of treason," Gojo reassured him, squeezing Megumi shoulder as he stepped forward again. He knew that Megumi could end the students life or seriously harm him, and he kind of.. really wanted to see it. But there was someone else that needed to see Megumi, "(___), is currently sleeping and receiving treatment. I think she'd really like it if you were there when she woke up."

Megumi knew he was right, he knew she needed him right now. Even though, it was his fault she was in that situation right now. Shaking off his hand, he walked towards the car, Itachi following suit as he watched Yaga and Satoru disappear with the young student.

The ride back to the school was a silent one, he read messages from Nobara and Itadori. Asking questions on what had happened, why you were bleeding when they saw you. His hand gripping the phone tightly, surprised that it hadn't broken from his strength, he spaced out as he looked at his lock screen.

He was carrying you on his back, a large smile played on his face while you covered his eyes and leaned forward. A peace sign being made with your fingers, while holding it near your left eye with your tongue sticking out. It was on a surprise free day, Gojo and you both went out to Tokyo and had a day to yourselves.

The other students had either stayed at school to sleep, or gone done something else.

It was a good moment to get to know Gojo as not the teacher, but as the guardian of Megumi and Tsumiki. Though, there wasn't much difference besides him telling you embarrassing stories of Megumi.

"We are here, she is in room 10." Itachi informed him, Megumi jumping out of the still slightly moving car. Racing up the stairs to the treatment room, though being stopped by Shoko.

"Hey kid, she is still sleeping. And I want to worn you, she lost a lot of blood and has a punctured lung. I'm surprised she made it through to be honest, but she was already in the process of learning how to use her energy to heal herself. Said it would be a good thing to know how to do, but just be warned. There are a lot of things she is hooked up too, I'm not sure when she will wake up though." Shoko said the last part as she walked passed him and down the hall, "I'll leave you to cry, just be careful."

Megumi could already feel the tears stinging his eyes, gentle opening the door he saw your body lying on the bed. IVs, and machines where hooked up too you, a mask was over your face as something else helped you to breath. He collapsed by the bed, falling to his knees, as loud sobs and cries fell past his lips.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry! I should have been helping you as well! I hope, you can forgive me when you get better, and wake up."

He laid by the bed for days, Shoko said that since you were already unknowingly healing yourself. That the recovery time would be quicker, instead of someone that didn't have that ability. By the first week, it was only now a matter of time for you to open your eyes.

"You need to take a shower, or spray some cologne on you. You smell terrible," Nobara spoke, visiting her friend and making sure Megumi was eating. "Here, Itadori made this, it's his meatballs, he knows you like them. He would be here, but Nanami wanted to take him to show him something," Nobara handed him the plate, a small frown still on his face. But this one was different from the usual one, this one was of sadness and guilt.

"Do you kno- wait.. her hand moved!" Nobara shouted, jumping towards the side of the bad, making sure not to pull on any of the lines. There was still a tube up your nose, to feed you, and a few IVs in your arms.

"Don't say that, holy shit, your right. (__), (__) can you hear me? I'm sorry, I am so so so sorry!" Megumi started to apologize, his hand lightly pushing your hair back. His eyes widening as your eyes, slowly tried to open, a low groan escaping your lips. "Go get Shoko, now," He ordered, Nobara already out the door shouting down the hall.

"Hey, don't move, you've been in this bed for a week now. Your body will be sore, and you probably won't be able to talk that well either, just relax. Youre alright, and I'm sorry, I am so sorry."

Your eyes were opened fully now, darting back and forth at the surroundings of the room. Shoko stepped into the room, Nobara an Gojo walking behind her. "Hey there, you're awake."

After that day, Shoko told the others that you'd be standing for another week or two. Making sure that you were able to regain some of your strength back, you may had been bed ridden for a week but your body had taken a beating. Quit literally.

And threw the walks, and Bambi feet, Megumi stayed by your side. Never leaving, unless you motioned for him to do so, though he was very reluctant.

"I'm fine now, really, you don't have to go to the bathroom with me." You laughed, trying to close the door as Megumi, was blocking you from fully closing it. "I know, but this hap-"

"Stop apologize, I forgave you and you already told me everything that happened. As did Gojo, though, it is still kind of gross kissing you after he had forced himself on you. Really wish I could kick his ass."

"I know, just.. I'm really sorry. And I told you, I've been brushing my teeth three times a day! Holler if you need anything," Megumi stepped back, watching the door close softly as you went to the bathroom.

A smile was on his face, though he knew you weren't mad at him anymore. He won't stop till you know that he regrets everything that happened.

"You're still standing there? Come on, everyone is waiting for us."

"Okay," He said, grabbing your bag, securing the strap on his shoulder. Reaching for your hand, as he gently lifted it to place a kiss on it. "I'm sorry," He thought out loud, a roll of your eyes were meant in response.

"I know, but it's in the past. And it won't happen again, right?"

"Nope, never will again. And if it does, you can kill me."

"Well, I wouldn't do that, but I'll scold you though. Come on, you know how Gojo gets, all the food will be gone by the time we get there."

You bother walked out the doors, and towards the dorms. The wind gentle tossing your hair, the atmosphere between you two was calm, and forgiveness and love was in the air.

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

Taglist: Not sure if anyone wanted to be tagged. But to those that asked for a second part.

@ani-girl @lolkaiko

[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello!! i've made a request before but this idea came in my brain and i heard your requests were open. So ive seen a lot of fics of the brothers saving mc, but what about mc kinda of saving the brothers, i mean like badass sword fighting style. Just like a stereotypical disney prince saves a princess mc kinda saves the brothers from getting killed by a lesser demon with a sword and just being badass (and sword) and the bros find it hot (weak humans? never heard of them)

*spongebob narrator voice* 400 years lat’er..... So sorry this took so long! I genuinely don’t know why I couldn’t get it done. When I actually tried, I got it done in like 2 days. My only excuse is that I’m a horrible trash munny >.<

Obey me Boys + Power Princess MC

Lucifer

It offends him that this creature, this being not fit to lick the soles of his boots, would raise their hand to him. The attack was not even what upset him, but just the gall. The utter stupidity of this decision to throw one’s life away. The fact that they had attacked with you around only made him wish to end that pathetic life that much sooner.

“Step back [Y/N]. I’ll deal with this quic—” Lucifer cut himself off when you rushed forward. A bright shining sword in your hand as you lunged. Slashing through the demon, who wailed and instantly turned to dust & ash. “What on Earth was that?”

“Oh. It’s my sword.” You reply nonchalantly. Turning around to show it to him. “It’s a holy arc sword, or something. I can summon it from my bracelet whenever I need it. Cool to know it actually works in a pinch.”

“And where did you get such a magical artifact?” Lucifer asked. Perplexed beyond reason, but trying not to show it.

“Lord Diavolo gave it to me when I first got here.” The demon arched a brow. Lord Diavolo? “It would be really irresponsible of him to just let a human wander around hell without some kind of weapon.”

He paused for a moment. Trying to piece all of what you had just said together. Then he just chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it would be.” And here he thought that he had been the only one protecting you. When all along you could do it yourself.

His hand reached out to pat your head fondly. His breast swelling with pride. “I’ll have to thank him for giving you such a thoughtful, practical gift. We’ll also have to add sword play to your lesson plans. I’d be more than happy to be your tutor.

Mammon

‘Shit!’ Mammon mentally cursed as he was hit again.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been rough up outside a club. Given his lifestyle, and his gambling track record, he’d been pummeled by a few bouncers in his life. With his immense power, he could easily take them; if he tried. But then he would be banned from the club, and ever other, and that was something he couldn’t handle over the humiliation of being beat up by these clowns. He needed this. It was all he had.

So, he took his beatings from lesser demons when they came around. He’d only wished they’d picked a different night to get their ‘payment’ back since you were supposed to be here soon.

“Come on guys. Don’t ya think you’ve had enough?”

“We’ll tell you when we’ve had enough!” One demon sneered at him, before kicking a man while he was down. Classy. “You owe us. And we’re gonna get back every cent you owe out of your hide!”

The demon reared his foot back to kick him again, and Mammon mentally sighed. Preparing himself for the kick and really being over this since it began. But….no kick came.

The demon let out a loud grunt over the sound of a metal ‘wack’ before the two, even lesser goons beside him suffer the same fate and they all slump to the ground. “Mammon! Are you ok?!”

The silver haired demon looked up at you in shock. The light from the street lamp causing a halo to form around you, highlighting your worried face as you brandished a rusty pipe like some great sword. “Yeah…I’m fine….”

“You don’t look fine! You’re all beat up!” He just sat there as you dropped the pipe and dropped down to him. Fretting over him as you looked him over. He couldn’t hear what you were saying over the beating sound of his heart in his ears.

No one had ever tried to help him before.

Mammon lifted his arms and wrapped them around you. “Mammon? What—“Let’s get out of here.” He interrupted as he hugged you. Standing up, and helping you to your feet, after a moment to walk out of the alley. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I wanna go somewhere with you.”

“But….I thought you wanted to go out tonight. Play cards. You said you were feeling lucky?”

He couldn’t tell if that was a jab or not, but replied, “well clearly I was wrong.” Though despite his bumps and bruises, he did still feel pretty lucky right not. “I just want to get out of here. I don’t need this anymore.” You both decide to head home to help Mammon nurse his wounds. He never went back to that club, or really any club, after that night.

Levi

“Levi….I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Nonsense!” Levi quipped in response to your perfectly reasonable, concerned feelings. “It’s just a little further. Besides, I want to see Henry 1! I’ve missed him a ton recently, and want to make sure he remembers me.” It had broken his heart to discover his poor, lost serpent had been down here, all alone, this whole time. So he made an effort to see him every now and then.

“Yeah but…isn’t this still like super-secret for Lord Diavolo’s family and stuff? What if there’s like booby traps and stuff?”

“Come on! There weren’t any booby traps or anything before. Why would he when he has Henry to keep it…..” Levi trailed off as both of you were ingulfed by a long, dark shadow. A low hissing sound growing louder as a gold, stripped serpent towered over you with a menacing glare. “That’s not Henry.”

The snake hissed loudly with bared fangs and an open mouth, and you both scream and run to get away from it.

The serpent of course chased you. Easily able to keep up, and only loosing you when the two of you duck into a narrow corridor. Levi turned around to say something to you, but you were gone. His immediate thought was that the stranger snake had gotten you, and it was all his fault, and he would never see you again!

When he came to the end of the corridor, walking out like a man on death row instead of running, he looked up to see the snake in front of him. Clearly angered by having to chase him. Levi didn’t care. He wanted to die if anything happened to you. He’d rather die than live one moment without you.

Prepared to accept his fate, the demon didn’t move when the snake unhinged his jaw to eat him in one gulp. Only for a sharp spike to thrust out from his mouth a moment later. A strange, hissing gasp escaping it before it slumped down in a lifeless heap on the floor. “[Y/N]!”

“Jesus! Not to put too fine a pin on it, but this place is literally a maze. One minute I’m next to you, and the next I’m in some armory on the other side of the hall 50 feet away. Are you alright Levi?”

The demon scrambled up the snake corpse to stand next to you and wrapped his arms tight around your being. “[Y/N]! I was so scared! I thought this Henry imposter got you, and you were dead, and I couldn’t think of anything!”

“I’m really ok Levi.” You assure him, as he wept into your shoulder. “Do you still want to see the real Henry? I think I spotted where he actually is when I was running back with the spear?” Levi nodded into your shoulder. Still not prepared to let you go.

Satan

Satan always tried to be a reasonable man.

He hated being referred to as ‘The Demon of Wrath’. It wasn’t his wrath that had caused him to be born. And he wasn’t any angrier than his brothers, so why did he have to be labeled the ‘bad seed’? So he always tried to be level headed. Calm. Patient. But there were somethings he just could not abide. Like the boorish behavior of someone talking loudly in the library.

“Excuse me,” the blonde said, attempting to remain calm, as he came over to the rude demon two tables over, “could you please keep it down? This is a library.”

“Yeah. I know what it is.” He quipped back rather snippily. “What are you? The librarian?”

“No. Just a fellow book lover.” Satan replied. Grinding his teeth now. “And one who can follow the rules and basic social decorum of keeping my conversations to myself in a place like this.”

“Are you calling me stupid?!”

“No. I’m calling you uncouth. A word meaning undignified, and without manners.”

“Why you!”

The demon rose to his feet, towering over Satan now that he was standing. Not that it mattered. Height was not an immediate representation of strength. Look at Belphie. His younger, shorter brother could level a whole city with a flick of his wrist. Satan could easily dispatch of his imbecile without even breaking a sweat.

He never got the chance though, as just after he stood the demon let out a grunt and slumped to the floor; with you standing behind him on his depleted chair with a book in your hand like you had just pulled it from The Stone. “Bet you’re glad I think Kindles are dumb now.”

Satan had to right himself on what he was seeing, and then frowned at you. “I never said that, and get down.” He insisted. Offering you his hand to get down. You hop down with ease and set your weapon book on the table. “Honestly, I could have handled him without resorting to violence or cheap theatrics.”

“Cheap?? This book was very expensive.” You insist, and Satan had to scoff.

“Be that as it may, please do not use books for more than their intended purpose. I appreciate the assist, but I can’t have you hurting yourself or fine literature in the future.”

“You’re such a buzz kill sometimes Satan…..”

Asmo

Asmo always loved going to the club. The dancing. The energy. The pulsing music. The people.

Well…usually the people. Some people, usually bro-dude demons, just couldn’t take a hint that ‘no’ meant ‘no’.

“Come on Asmo! Why are you being so stingy?!”

“I’m not being ‘stingy’,” Asmo replied with a frown marring his beautiful face. “I’m just not interested.”

“You were interested last time.” His pursuer replied. Like that somehow gave automatic permission that things would happen again.

“That was a long time ago.” The dusk haired blonde replied. Sipping his cocktail and looking thoughtful across the spacious VIP lounge over to you.

Yes, things had certainly changed. Once where it would take a whole room of people and attention to make him content, these days all he wanted was you. Just you sparing a moment to look at him made his heart feel incredibly full. He had come here to have a fun night out with you, but it seemed no matter where he went his beauty was always causing problems.

The lesser demon frowned, then looked towards the direction Asmo was looking to land on you. “Shoot, just bring them along with us.”

“Excuse me?” Asmo asked. Beautiful expression turning Ignatius as he sat down his drink.

“Bring them along. I’ve never had sex with a human. But there must be something to it if you’re willing to do them. Not that I suppose that takes much….”

At that, Asmo leapt from his chair and grabbing the brute by the collar. He wasn’t normally one for violence. He wasn’t like his dull brothers. But he couldn’t let a slight like that against you slide. “Take it back!”

The two demon’s scuffle. Clearing out the VIP lounge as everyone ran. Scared that they might transform at any moment and literally tear each other apart. Asmo somehow ended up on his back, a position that usually didn’t bother him, as the other reared back to punch him in the face.

Or, at least he would have if he didn’t start convulsing and fall on the ground a moment later.

“Asmo! Are you ok?!”

The Lust Demon looked at you for a moment. Then delicately covered his mouth with both hands. Returning to normal. “[Y/N]! You saved me!!”

“Yeah. This little thing packs a punch.” You replied. Holding out your little pink taser from She-Sword from your clutch. “I couldn’t let this jerk hurt your beautiful face.”

“No one is more beautiful than you my fierce warrior queen!” He praised. Basking in the moment for only a second before you both scamper off before security came.

You both might be beautiful, but you didn’t want to end up on the evening news.

Beel

“I want to take up kendo.” Beel announced to you one day. Out of the blue. “I’ve been looking for ways to add variety to my workout. I came across this video on kendo and thought it would be fun.”

Of course, Beel knew you had practiced kendo in the past at school. So he might have also been looking for fitness activities for you to do together. In any case, he really liked seeing you in your little workout outfit. It was super cute.

He also liked you showing him the basics of kendo; stance, footing, basic strike movement. When he felt he had gotten the hang of it, Beel jovially asked for a sparring match with you.

“I don’t know….”

“Come on [Y/N], sparring with someone is the best way to learn fighting.” He reasoned. “Besides, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about that….” He heard you mutter under your breath, but thought that he must have imagined it as you squared off.

Standing across from you in the arena, something changed. The hair on the back of Beel’s neck stood up. Not in the excited way that it normally did when he saw you. But something more….primal. His grip tightened a little more as he realized he might have to get a little serious with you.

It was all for nothing though as the match was over just as soon as it started.

The shinai went flying out of his hands, landing across the room just as Beel landed on his butt. His backside throbbing as his bell was rung clear as day. He rubbed his head as he looked up at you. “I may have forgotten to mention that I was three-time national kendo champ all through school.”

The demon looked up at you with a shiny, sparkly gaze only until now reserved for delicious food. “Teach me sensei!”

Belphie

He hated being out. He wanted to go home.

Being outside in the sun, with all these…..people was hell to him. Belphie would rather be home, in actual hell, with his blanket and pillow and quiet, rather than ‘top side’ with you for the whole afternoon. Not that it was you or anything. You were the only bright star on this miserable day. He’d be damned if he’d let one of his brothers spend the day with you when he could.

“Belphie, do you want an ice cream? Maybe that will help with the heat?”

He wanted to say that the only thing that would help him was getting the hell out of here. But, he bit his tongue. The demon knew how important this was to you to come ‘home’ now & then and he didn’t want to ruin it for you. So he just nodded and asked, “strawberry please.”

He sat in the shade as he watched you go over to the ice cream truck alone. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was just a hopeless shut in. Like Levi, only worse. He just wanted humans so much that being around them was making him crankier than normal today.

“Geez, get a look at that side show over there.”

Belphie looked up from his daze at the human who was a few yards away from him. Snickering and staring with his friends in a voice that a regular human wouldn’t be able to hear. “If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck.” Again, he was very cranky.

The human was obviously taken aback at being heard and then called out like that. “What did you say to me?!” He yelled, once he got his bearings on the situation, and took a ‘threatening’ step forward to see if he would repeat it.

“I said ‘If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck’.” Of course he repeated it. “Don’t mutter something under your breath like a coward. Say it like a man, or keep your gross mouth shut.” This was why he hated humans. No spine.

Well, metaphorical spine. If he kept this up, Belphie was gonna prove that he had a spine when he ripped it out and made him wear it as a neck tie.

“You little fuck--!” Belphie, of course, didn’t move when he stomped closer. Not that he needed to, because he was stopped in his tracks rather abruptly when you stepped between then. Holding a knife from your pocket.

“I suggest you get out of here, before the only ‘side show’ around here is your knife swallowing act pal.” The man seemed to frozen for a moment as he tried to process if you were serious. Then his flight instincts kicked in and he took off running with his friends across the park. “Gosh, I think I’ve been spending to much time with you guys. I never would have done anything like this before.” You said after a sigh, then turned back to Belphie.

“My hero.” He cheered softly, in his typical tired voice but still with a soft smile. Seeming extremely proud of the bad influence he was on you.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 1 - Bound

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Kidnapping, Panic Attacks, Isolation, mentions of IV/needles

---

It’s been hours since Dick’s woken up… here.

“Here” is hard to describe, yet incredibly easy. He can say for sure that at least within the 180 degrees ahead of him, it’s all white. White walls that, if arranged in a mirrored-image behind him, might make a hexagon. The ceiling above him is bright and unforgiving, LED lights dotting the space above him like freckles on Barbara’s cheeks and shoulders. He can’t see any sign of a door ahead of him, and the gray-speckled white tiles that make the floor aren’t particularly enjoyable to look at.

Yeah, describing what he can see about the room is the easy part. The hard part is that behind him? It’s all guess-work. For all he knew, there could be nothing behind him, or a cliff, or… or something ridiculous. There could be a whole manner of things behind him, but it’s impossible for him to get a look because his head is strapped to the cushioned chair he’s forced to sit on.

He hates this. It’s been hours. The chair, while cushioned, isn’t even that comfortable. The way his arms lay on the armrests and his feet come together near the end of the chair suggests a dentist’s chair and a therapist’s sofa had an evil love-child who was into bondage, considering how many straps were buckled in to keep him trapped down.

He’s going to lose his mind. Did he really just make a bondage joke about a chair?!

Anyway, he’s stuck here, his arms pinned down by the wrists, elbows, and under his armpits. Two heavy straps run over each shoulder and cross in the middle of his chest to connect back to the chair near his hips. And speaking of hips, there’s another strap around them too like an old Volkswagen seat belt. More straps around his thighs, knees, and ankles keep his legs locked together and down. That’s not even mentioning the binds that lock around his neck or the one around his forehead that’s fitted to the headrest that seems designed to not let him even attempt to rotate his chin to the side.

It’s horrible, and awful, and cruel, and unusual, and he’s not even that sure why he’s here. All he can tell is that he has a massive headache, his Nightwing mask is on but his suit is gone—replaced by some sort of nightgown that definitely doesn’t seem friendly, and whenever he tenses his arm he can feel a tug in his wrist.

Must be an IV of some sort? It’s strange though, from what he can see he can’t see any medical equipment hanging around him. But it has to be an IV. With his night job, he’s become familiar with the way his lips go dry and how his fingers tremble when the damn needle gets put in his arm.

But… if it is an IV, it must need changing by now, surely. It’s been hours, and those things don’t last that long.

Hours. Sitting here with the feeling of a needle in his arm, not sure where he is or what he’s doing here, nothing to look at besides those Barbara Gordon freckles on the ceiling and those gray speckles on the tile.

He tugs on the restraints for what must be the thousandth time, and growls when nothing happens, as unsurprising it is. All his attempts to slip out of or break the restraints have left him with nothing but bruising and irritated skin. However, he feels so restless and bored out of his mind that tugging on the belts seems to be the only productive thing his brain can think of to do.

He tugs again, and nothing happens. He sighs. Relaxes back. And… tries to think of how he got into this mess.

It’s just as successful as breaking the straps.

-o-o-o-o-

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he calls out to nothing. His eyes hurt, he’s exhausted, he needs to pee and that’s something he doesn’t want to deal with. “What do you want from me, eh?”

Silence. His hands bunch in angry fists and he pulls against the straps hard enough for him to feel the edge bite into his skin.

“Batman’s identity?” He tries, because it’s always about Batman’s Identity (TM). When there isn’t any answer, he continues. “Police secrets?” Nothing. “Superman’s identity?”

Nothing. He growls and glares at the empty walls ahead of him.

-o-o-o-o-

He’s using the pain in his wrists, focusing on the warmth running down the cuts the straps have finally created, instead of the pressure in his bladder.

It only lasts so long.

Great, so now he’s bored out of his mind, stuck, and the room smells horrible. Or, the room smells horrible until whatever unseen vent takes away the reek and the chair dries, leaving him being the only one who’s smelling.

He hates this. He hates this. He hates this.

He jerks against every restraint and snarls in impatience and restlessness. He can feel the cuts tear more, but he’s close to not caring, he longs to move.

If his snarling eventually fades into howls, then he’s almost positive no one is around to hear it other than himself.

-o-o-o-o-

Bruce’s cape settles around his feet as he lands, launching droplets of questionable sewage water up to his knees. Damian lands beside him, the whites of his domino mask narrowed in fierce determination.

It’s been nothing but a series of long hours since the Riddler kidnapped Dick with the clues to his whereabouts left carved into the pavement with abandoned Wing-Dings. During Bruce’s search, a few things became apparent: Dick was trapped, alone, and Bruce had until Dick died from malnourishment once the crude IV he was apparently attached to ran out. Riddler is already behind bars, has been for several hours, but interrogation wont get him to give up his games, and Bruce may be a vigilante and “above the law”, but he wont stoop so low as to torture.

At least, not until things get desperate and Damian’s not around to see. Dick would never forgive Bruce, and will probably never talk to him even in any kind of afterlife.

But it hasn’t come to that, Tim solved the riddle through emails delivered from wherever he’s located with his Young Justice friends. They’re always changing spots, and even if Tim were to come home and solve the riddles in person, it would probably be too late.

It isn’t too late, he reminds himself as Damian takes off down the sewers. They know Dick’s exact coordinates. Bruce almost kicked himself when Tim revealed them, because of course lead to Gotham’s abandoned sewage system.

The way to Dick’s location is a tough one, one riddled (as Dick would say) with traps. But they’re nothing compared to a worried father and a determined brother. They find the door nudged neatly behind a section of brick, and when Bruce opens it he’s almost blinded by the night vision in his lenses adjusting to the sudden attacks of bright lights.

Bruce sees before he hears. His eyes were always one of his favorite senses, which is probably why Damian—a boy who’s had to hear to save his life many times—ran to the chair in the middle of the hexagon-shaped room before him. White walls, white tile, white LED’s to sit in a white ceiling. The back of a padded chair in the center of the room faces him, revealing nothing of what it contains.

And then Bruce hears the screaming. Weak, clawing screaming that sounds like what sandpaper would feel on dry skin. He knows this scream, the tones to it, and within moments he’s running to the front side of the chair with Damian.

Dick’s there… writhing. Blood stains skin and cloth around almost every strap holding him down from struggling that must have been continuing for hours. As Damian tears an IV—the tube feeding him nutrients disappears within the chair; there must be some sort of mechanism keeping it working within its structure—Dick’s struggles like he doesn’t notice the change. His eyes are squeezed shut, tears drip down his cheeks, and his screams are so so hard to listen to. Does he even know they’re here?

“Dick,” Bruce says, knowing there’s no one to hear him with Riddler behind bars and his goons scattered. Dick doesn’t respond, just continues to yowl like a wounded stray cat. Already, Bruce can see the symptoms of prolonged use of an IV and of exhaustion. Has Dick slept at all since being kidnapped?

Damian begins work on one of the straps around Dick’s jerking wrists. Bruce follows suit, quickly, desperately wanting to get his eldest out of here, but he’s forced to abandon his task when the loosened strap on Damian’s side allows Dick to tug his wrist free and move to hit the boy. Bruce catches his hand before the hit can be met.

“LET ME GO!” Dick screeches.

“Dick, we’re helping you,” Bruce shouts back wearily, but Dick doesn’t listen as he begins to babble all kinds of demands similar to let me go. Bruce gives Damian a look. “He’s exhausted and most likely delusional. Our best course of action would be for me to hold him down, and you undo the rest of the straps. Maybe we can get to him without having to risk drugging him once he’s no longer restrained.”

Damian looks all parts of his age as he takes a second to give a shockingly vulnerable stare Dick’s way. The vulnerability only lasts a moment before Damian’s nodding. “Got it.”

The next several minutes are filled with events that will reveal themselves in bruises with the coming days, even through the kevlar. It’s tough work keeping a Dick Grayson down, especially when it’s a Dick Grayson who absolutely refuses to be kept down in the first place. However, eventually they release the last strap around Dick’s other wrist and soon enough, both Bruce and Damian are jumping back and Dick launches himself out of the chair, stumbling to the floor and then falling to his ass when his knees give out. Dick looks pitiful, trapped between wanting to curl up and cry or stand up and run, yet curling up seems to win out as Dick must have no energy to lift himself back up.

“Dick,” Bruce calls again when Dick’s hoarse breathing calms, and this time, hope flutters into his belly when Dick’s shoulder’s tense in response.

“… B…?” comes a horribly weak response, but a response nonetheless. Bruce rushes around the damned chair to where his eldest still sits, curled up and shaking. He reaches out unconsciously, kneeling down to scoop Dick up in an embrace, but stops when Dick violently flinches away.

“Don’t touch me,” he whimpers, “just- I don’t- I couldn’t move-” he breaks into sobs.

Bruce is almost considering returning to Arkham and breaking a few bones. Instead, he lowers his voice and speaks as calmly as he can.

“I understand. But we have to get you back home. Just your arm around my shoulder, and I’ll support you while you walk. Can you do that?”

It’s proof of just how shaken Dick is when it takes a few moments to get a hesitant nod.

Bruce does his best to ignore Dick’s flinching and twitching while, with permission, Bruce helps Dick up and wraps his arm exactly where Bruce said he would. Damian stands a few paces off, looking torn. Bruce tells him to run ahead and bring the bat-mobile closer to the sewer opening while Dick blinks owlishly and gulps like a fish… doing his best to keep down what must be a pending panic attack. Damian thankfully leaves without much argument, and Bruce is left to help his eldest, hyperactive, always moving, always smiling, always stimming in some way or another son out the blasted room and towards freedom with as much control given over to Dick as possible.

“I scared Dami,” Dick whispers through clenched teeth, halfway through the sewage tunnels.

Bruce hums and resists tightening his grip on Dick’s arm. “It’s not your fault. He will not hold it against you.”

“I scared you.”

“… I was scared for you. But right now the only thing that matters is getting you home. Then everything can return to normal”

Dick nods his head, his voice choking in what must be another sob. “Okay,” he whispers, “okay.”

And Bruce silently vows to punch Riddler a little harder the next time he sees him.

But right now, the only thing he cares about is that Dick’s alive, and Bruce is bringing him home.

[wing-ed-thing]

Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter IX)

Synopsis: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty nightlife. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the underground will help you both come to an understanding.

Word Count: 2,877

Warnings: Implied sexual themes, adult themes, language

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI 

Notes: Short chapter this time, sorry. A lot has been going on, but next chapter is a big juicy one! Happy Birthday @altogetherweathered! You’ve really been here since the beginning and you’re support means so much!

A deep exhale. Yor cleared your mind completely, focusing only on your deep inhales, then exhales. All you could see was black behind your lids. Another breath and your fingers twitched against the firm weight under your palms. The energy washed over you, sparking in your fingers. The powerful numbness reached your wrists, then your elbows.

“Take it slow.” Your brow scrunched as you felt the chakra retreat a little lower before shooting up to your shoulders. A spark cracked painfully under your palms. “Sorry…” The apology came low and softly.

Another exhale. The connection sparked in your chest, shooting straight to your heart. You could feel the energy circulating, running through every fiber of your being. It loaded warmth into your system so real that you could almost feel the heat on your skin. You sent your own messages, shooting out feelings of zen, peace, and calm. Your eyes twitched and you focused harder on maintaining the connection. A twitch in your brow. A hiccup in the circulation. Your brows furrowed, but each crease in your forehead led to more holes, the link slipping out of your control. The chakra probed into each crevice in your mind, seeping in and pulling thoughts and memories with reckless abandon.

Parts of your childhood sailed down the stream of consciousness. Your father. Your old family pet. Ramen on Tuesdays. The waterfall outside of the village. Minato becoming Hokage.

You resurfaced with a gasp. You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. Guy sat, legs crossed and concerned, in front of you. His palms still turned upwards. The corners of his lips slumped.

“Maybe we should take a break.” You opened your mouth to dispute him. Guy spoke your name with a certain amount of sternness.

Guy looked at the clock. He could hardly believe it. And if you hadn’t been sitting in front of him, he wouldn’t have. Two and a half. Two and a half hours since you had burst through the partition door. Two and a half hours since you marched up to him, hands on your hips. He’d never forget the words you said.

“Okay.” Guy remembered your hands firmly on your hips. “I’m ready. I’m ready to tackle this mission the right way.” He recalled your tight lips. “Would you help me? Please.”

Your huffing brought Guy back to reality. Your lips vibrated as you did so.

“I’ll grab some waters.”

You rose from the couch, shedding your hoodie as you did so. You and Guy had been working HEAVEN for a little over a month now with no promising and accessible leads. You were sure that they were out there, but you certainly weren’t getting lucky as of late. So while you waited, all there was to do was practice. You filled up two glasses. Guy leaned against the back of the couch, sticking an arm out to take his drink which you handed him. You circled around to the other end, taking your seat once again. This had become a nightly routine for the two of you.

“I think you’re getting better,” He remarked.

“Really? ‘Cause it doesn’t feel like it.” You fanned yourself with the TV guide. “I feel like I keep slipping easier and easier.”

“It’s a powerful jutsu and I have deep recesses of strong chakra. I’d be surprised if mastering it was easy.” Guy placed his empty glass on the coffee table. Practicing this jutsu took a lot of chakra out of him too. “But really, you’re improving. It’s stronger, I can tell that you have more control.”

“I’ll need to have all the control I can get if we get into trouble with someone competent.”

“Who? Like Orochimaru?” Guy hummed. You sucked on the cheek. Your head tilted to the side.

“Well we don’t know it’s Orochimaru.” A sip.

“We’re pretty sure, though.” You rolled the glass between your hands, watching as the creases in your hands left prints on the cold surface.

“I dunno, Guy. I just have a feeling about this and my feeling is that this isn’t Orochimaru’s doing.” Guy bit back a small smile. You’ve been using his name as of late.

“All signs seem to be pointing to him.” He told you with a shrug. “But you’re right, we should wait until we have some more evidence.” He shifted cross-legged on the couch cushions. He held his hands out, wrists resting on his knees. “Ready to go again?”

You set your drink down.

“Yeah, sure.”

You mirrored his posture. Closing your eyes, you took a breath. Your hands slipped onto his, surrendering your vulnerability and your mind.

The chakra cracked like static, excited as it flowed from you. The loading occurred quicker this time, though not by much. The frigid heat rose in you, occupying chakra point after chakra point. You felt it well in the center of your forehead as the energy spread to your core of your chest. Guy spoke your name softly, almost in question. Your brow twitched, but the circulation remained uninterrupted. You felt his warmth across your network being kept at bay.

“I know it was a long time ago, but you haven’t heard from that Kabuto, have you?”

Immediately, you faltered. The connection continued, probing into your soul. You tried your best to keep it at bay. You fed through unrelated memories. Lunch at the Academy. Late night workouts. It flowed into Guy, a sense of peace spreading across his skin.

“No.”

The corner of his lips twitched. Something was off, but he couldn’t place it.

***

Working HEAVEN could hardly be considered a task that could be run like a well-oiled machine, but somehow both you and Guy fell into a rhythm that seemed to work. Guy ran a rag over an empty space at the counter of the bar. A new customer quickly took the seat. With a flick of his wrist, a napkin flew in front of the patron, gently floating down onto the hard surface in front of his folded arms. The man looked up, impressed.

“What can I get for ya’?”

Daisuke emerged from the hall to his office, nodding happily at the state of his business. He was absolutely thrilled to say the least, especially with his new hires. Guy handled the bar with such skill, that HEAVEN quickly started to rise as one of the hottest clubs in the Sound. And as he predicted, Daisuke’s new hostess seemed to leave all her clients like they had just awakened from a sweet dream. Business was booming. The club was busier than ever and the hostesses were more exhausted than ever. Together, they worked a sea of men, all telling themselves that the commission would make the hassle of taking on more regulars was worth it. A hired band played upbeat music over the low roar of chatter.

Guy noticed Daisuke’s appearance at the side of the bar, his face lighting up. He gave an exclamation, juggling bottles in his usual show.

“Ah! Daisuke! Care for a drink?” Guy called out jovially, bouncing a bottle of liquor off of his bicep.

“Not at the moment, Genki. I think I’m still a bit tipsy from what you made me earlier!” Daisuke laughed deeply. You watched the interaction out of the corner of your eye, tucked under the arm of a client. Guy didn’t miss a beat, pouring a fancy concoction into four glasses at once.

“Well, let me know, Boss!” He said, letting his Might Guy show for a moment in his signature thumbs-up pose. Daisuke mirrored the gesture.

“As long as you don’t drop any of my product!” And with that joke, he walked off into the club. Your focus returned to your customer, almost done with your session.

You made momentary eye contact with Guy. Slowly, you moved a piece of hair behind your ear. Code. Guy flicked his bangs to the side. He finished the round of drinks in front of him, putting them on a tray for the next hostess before servicing the bar patrons. One part of being a ninja that Guy silently thanked was the ability to multitask quickly and efficiently. He turned out order after order, his mind almost turning off as he did so. Almost. After all, making drinks was hardly his current focus.

Guy studied a man at the edge of the bar with his peripheral vision. He had been there a while and looked to be a high ranking sound ninja. Guy slid him his refill and the stranger gave him thanks. Sensing a break in his work, Guy took a moment to stop.

“All drinks tonight, my good friend?” He mused. The customer hummed. “There are so many beautiful women here tonight, you shouldn’t have to keep me company.” Guy chuckled. Even in his acting, he found it hard to play into his surroundings. Much like you, Guy turned to you to help find ways of his own to circumvent his comfort zones. The man let out a snicker.

“My girl ain’t here tonight.” He took a large gulp of his strong beverage. Guy busied his hands with a monotonous task, but looked up in feigned shock.

“You’ve tried out the new one, haven’t you?”

Guy couldn’t help but cringe on the inside. Despite working this mission for quite some time, he still had trouble adjusting to the language. He nearly gagged. Tried out the new one. Like he spoke about a pair of pants or some other object. But, he would put his reservations aside. He would be damned if he didn’t act like a professional, after all. Guy glanced over at you, partially deliberate and partially to remind himself to find comfort in your coaching.

The patron followed Guy’s gaze. He leaned against the bar as he craned his neck, his glass gripped loosely by the top between his fingers. He clicked his tongue.

“Eh, no. I have not. What’s she like?” Guy lined up a few groups of drinks on a tray. “Aside from drop dead gorgeous of course.”

“Spitfire if I’ve ever met one. Intelligent, feisty-” The ninja scoffed.

“Ah, nah I pass on difficult women.”

“Not difficult.” Guy leaned on the counter. “Sexy, confident. Her name literally means ‘dream’, you know. Trust me, you’ll walk out of here in a daze.” The man looked up from his drink with sceptical amusement.

“Either you’re a really good salesman or she was one hell of a lay.”

“Don’t kiss and tell, Genki.” Your chide cut through the atmosphere.

The attention of the bar fell to you as you sauntered up. One of the patrons yielded his seat to you and you thanked him, dragging one hand down his cheek. The chakra flowed, undetectably, from your fingers. The man’s face turned red. You slid onto the stool which happened to be next to Guy’s target.

“I’d never dream of it, Yume.” Guy chuckled and you gave him a subtle nod. You could take it from here.

Guy returned to his duties at the bar, putting on a show to distract the crowd from your interrogation. One hand on the ninja’s wrist and he wouldn’t suspect a thing. Guy watched your handiwork out of the corner of his eye. You had really grown in your training. Even to his elite senses, your jutsu was near undetectable.

And client after client, it went exactly like that. Guy began to learn what characteristics to look for and you began to extract information quicker and quicker. Granted, most of the information did not turn out to be anything useful. You sorted through the confessions in a mental list. Married. Alcoholic. Gay. Cheater. It had been far too long since you and Guy got a break.

The night creeped up on you. The longer you worked, the less you seemed to acknowledge time. Drink after drink and client after client, the staff of HEAVEN worked into the night. And with just an hour before closing the pack came in as they usually did.

The group of Sound ninja seemed to have grown in size since you had last seen them the day before. They hounded the bar, Guy scrambling to prepare all of their orders. You had remained at your pace on the far end, stalking the group with your eyes in preparation to pull at a weak link. After all, they would be leaving for the back room soon and no time could be spared.

You spied Shou on the other side of the bar and playfully motioned him over.

“Shou!” You greeted grandly with a smile, arms out to embrace him. “When’s the next time you’re taking me away from this place?” Shou fell into your arms, one hand lingering around your waist.

“Soon. Don’t be impatient, now.” He spoke with his usual sternness, but you could detect the faintest playfulness in his voice.

“Hey, lover boy!” Another soldier called from a few stools down. He leaned back, holding out a glass. “Get over here and get your fuckin’ drink.”

Shou laughed, waving off his friend before turning to you for a kiss. Your hand came up between the two of you, obstructing his lips with two of your fingers.

“Go get your drink, baby.”

Guy eyed you, but swiftly turned away.

The hour flew by. As clients left, more and more hostesses came to mingle around the bar, hoping to milk some extra commission money. But the group decided to turn into the back room around closing. The women broke away together, varying levels of sour. In the migration, you spied the same woman who typically came with the group finishing her drink at the end of the bar. As the men left, she threw down a few ryō before exiting HEAVEN like every time before.

Except this time, you were curious, curious enough to follow. Wordlessly you slid down from your stool, making your way to the hall. You stopped right across from the dressing room to glance down towards Daisuke’s office. A muffled uproar came from behind the mahogany door. You pushed a hand into the door of the kitchenette as Yuzuki stormed out of the office, clutching a small piece of paper in her hand.

“This is shit, Daisuke. You know this is shit. I might as well go to HEX if you have the nerve to steal from us like this.”

You could see straight into the small room. Daisuke sat still at his desk. Yuzuki stormed past you.

“Are you okay?” You asked, letting the kitchenette door close as you turned to face her. She seethed, jaw clenched.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Yuzuki huffed before storming off. You took a breath before resuming your task.

***

The woman stood right outside where you expected her. She buried herself in her jacket, leaning against the side of the building. You carried two disposable cups in your hands, steaming and warm. You approached her and offered her one.

“It’s been getting colder out here.” You observed. The woman looked down at the cup.

“What is it?”

“Green tea,” You answered. “I thought you might like a cup.” Your breath floated visibly in the cold air. She gave a low nod before taking the cup from you with silent thanks.

“That’s very kind of you.” You took your spot next to her, lower back flush against the wall.

“Well, I thought you could use something to help that headache you no doubt have after being in that crowd.” You joked and she gave a light snicker and a smile. You blew on your beverage. You stood together looking out at the stars. That had to be your favorite part of the night. The neon signs just started to turn off around this time, revealing the specks of light above. “I just noticed that you come out here every time the others go back and that perhaps you could use some company.”

“I can’t say that these kinds of places are exactly my favorite.” She admitted before pausing. “No offense.” You waved at her with one hand.

“None taken, I completely understand.” Another pause. The wind blew, whipping your faux hair around and taking a few degrees off of your tea. You heard a scoff.

“I don’t get how you people do it.” The woman shook her head slowly, crumpling up the cup before shooting it to the nearest trash. She missed.

“Do what?”

“Deal with those guys all day.” The woman shoved her hands in her pockets. “I give you serious props. I couldn’t do that.” You looked at her kindly.

“Sometimes you do what you have to do.” You smiled softly, directing your gaze downward. “But… I have restrained myself from multiple punches. Genki can attest to that.” The woman snickered along with you.

“Yeah, me too. But something tells me that you have more self-restraint than I do.” She hummed. “Genki, that’s the-”

“Bartender.” You nodded and she mirrored, an eyebrow quirking.

“He sure is sweet on you.” She mused. You blinked at her blankly, expecting an explanation. She shifted. “Anyone with a brain could see that. But who knows.”

You swirled around the half inch of green tea that remained in your cup.

“Yeah, who knows.”

Notes: What do ya’ll think about the pacing so far? I’m curious because I think it’s too fast. Will someone let me know if it’s too fast? Thanks. 

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[writingbakery]

“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

[haruno-sakura-san]

Can't remember if I posted this before, but I was reading through my notes on my phone and found it. Either way, enjoy this playful one shot with Sakura and a mystery man!

🌸❓

"Rough day?" A man who slid into the seat next to Sakura at the bar asked. "None of your business." She snubbed him. "It's been a while since ive seen a leaf nin drink like that," he observed unprompted. She mentally noted that she wasn't wearing her heite. He was either assuming from her gear or he recognized her. "I'm off duty." "I would hope so." Her gaze cut back over to him. A hood and tinted glasses obscured any identify features, but even so he looked incredibly mundane. In her line of work, that was also incredibly dangerous. "Listen, you seem like a nice guy-" "That assumptions a bit premature." "But I'm not here to meet anyone so if you don't mind-" "Actually I do." She glared at him for a long moment, not wanting to be interrupted again. "See, I'm waiting for someone myself." He offered finally. "You don't say" her tone thick with disinterest. "But I'm beginning to think I've been stood up." He sounded more amused than put out. She wondered if it was some kind of pickup strategy to get her to feel bad. "I can't imagine why." She said in the same flat tone. "My thoughts exactly."

Sakura made a sharp sound of disapproval. "My deepest sympathies. I don't see how this has anything to do with me." "Well, it really doesnt, on the surface. But you see, here I was feeling sorry for myself when I see you stomping in here, looking like you've just dragged yourself through a pigsty-" "It was a river bed." "Oh thank you- a river bed. Possibly the sorriest sight I've seen all day - not that I would normally say such a thing to a lady. I'm sure you look at least pleasant under normal circumstances." "Does this story have a point?" Feeling her anger swell at his commentary. "Of course, I just thought it might be nice to commiserate together - one passing stranger to another." She hates the cocky way he inclines his head, gesturing between them with his glass. "No, thanks." "Oh come on - why else come to a bar?" "For a drink - unbothered." "If that were the case, then I'd think the liquor store down the street would have done the job." "And what, have a few drinks at the store front? They have laws against that, you know." "You dont have a hotel room to drink in?" "Of course not" "Interesting." He purred. She realized she said too much. "So your plan was to get tipsy and then travel back to konoha or wherever your headed, seemingly alone, in the middle of the night." "I don't have to explain myself to you." "No, I think I've got a good handle on the situation without any explanation. Where are your teammates anyway? Isn't there someone around to keep you from making dangerous decisions like this. A captain maybe or a boyfriend?" Sakura slams her glass down against the wood of the bar. "For your information, I can more than take care of myself. I have an extremely high alcohol tolerance. And I've had too long a day for a pretty boy like you to be picking at me when all I want to do is have a drink in the peaceful Haven that is my own mind. So shut your trap. Am I clear?" "No, I have several questions." She snarls and begins to crack her nuckles in preparation to put this idiot though a wall when the bar tender yells, "No fighting in my bar! Take it outside if you want to act like animals." She settles back into her seat. "Sorry, sir. No need for that. This poser isn't worth the energy," she grumbles under her breath. "Lets backtrack to pretty boy. That had a nicer ring to it." Clenching her jaw, she takes a deep breath, exhales and takes a long drag on her drink. "So are you going to tell me the river bed story, Pocahontas?" "If I do, will you leave me alone?" "It certainly won't hurt your chances" She huffs. "Fine. I got caught in a fishing net." There was a beat of silence. "And?" She gave him a long-suffering look. "And was dragged behind a fishing boat." His eyebrows rose. "And how did that happen?" "I was pushing the boat. It was beached on a shallow part of the river." "Pushing it?" "Yeah." "Remind me to tip that bartender for not letting you deck me into next week." She smirked into her drink. Damn straight. "So when the boat broke free these fishermen did what? Cast their nets right done on top of you?" "Yup. I had to cut myself free and everything." "No good deed goes unpunished I guess." "Technically it wasn't a good deed, they were paying me to help." "That's even worse. And no one noticed you were missing onboard?" "Well, they wouldn't let me on the boat in the first place -" "Why not?" "It's bad luck." "Bad luck?" "To have a woman on board." "Wait a moment. So before the ship got stuck in the first place, while it was sailing, where were you? Nearby on the shore?" "No. I was running alongside them in the water." He laughed outright. "Running alongside them. That's too good. They didn't even give you rowboat." Her face flushed. She hadn't thought to ask for a row boat. "They were absolute assholes. Usually I can take quite a bit of crap from a client, but when he told me to pay for the net." "Pay for the net!" "And the lost profits for the day" "Ha!" "I told him just where he could shove his

lost profits and came to the nearest bar. I feel a little less sorry for myself now. Glad I could help. Now leave me be." "You don't want to hear my story?" "Not part of the deal. Now scram." He pouted, cheek resting on his hand. "But we were getting along so well." "You have a very twisted sense of relationships if you think that was getting along well." "I cannot argue with that." She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the bickering, but she was finally feeling a little unwound. Studying his profile for a moment, she thought it must definitely be the alcohol. "If you're going to stare, i might as well tell you my story." Definitely the alcohol. "I wasn't staring." She huffed, turning sharply away "Would admiring be more accurate?" "Do you ever shut up?" "For the majority of the time yes I do. It's quite liberating to go on and on like this. Strangers make some of the best conversation. You don't have to hold back because they will never see you again, probably not even remember speaking." She hated that he was right. She also hated that she couldn't see his eyes, instead watching his lips move. Kami must hate her because he had rather nice lips. "You're admiring again." They said. "Staring," she corrected. "Staring then." He said in a low voice, leaning in slightly. "Tell me your story." She said, trying to break the moment by divert this exchange to something hopefully safer for her psychy. Those damn lips curlled up in a feline grin. "Of course, my little mud pie." "Don't push it." She snapped, "You were meeting someone." "Yes, I've been seeing them for some time now. We are both wonderers so we meet about once a month. " "How long is some time now?" "Hmm, about ten years maybe." "And you guys haven't made it official yet?" "Well, it's complicated. They are a little old for me, and I'm not sure what society would think." She got the feeling he was making fun of her, but didn't get the joke. "They've never once been late or missed a meeting. I'm a little worried you see." For the first time since meeting the guy, Sakura felt a little bad for him. "Plus theyve got hands and eyes that wander a bit too much for my liking." "Sounds like they finally got bored and left." She commented. "Well. Even so, the meetings were as much about business as pleasure." "And just what kind of business are you in exactly?" "I'd say we were in the same field." She scoffs, looking him up and down again, not able to make out anything helpful from his form from under his travelling cloak to back up his claim about being a Shinobi. It was convenient line for civilian men who hit on kunoichi, so she rolled her eyes. "Sure you are." "Don't believe me?" "I believe you'd say just about anything to get on my good side."

"Hmm," his lips curled in that feline way, "And I thought leaf nin we're very skilled at seeing underneath the underneath." She froze, recognizing her sensei's phrase. "Who exactly did you say you were meeting again?" "I didn't." She slowly turned toward him, hand sliding to her thigh pouch under the bar, but it was too late. Here eyes were locked on his red, glowing gaze, pin wheels spinning. She felt her consciousness being torn from her body and into the inky black of his sharingan.

🌸❓

Quite sure this was supposed to be Itachi but it's quite OOC for him. So I'll leave it to you reader to fill in who it is. I guess I like Shisui for it myself but don't limit yourself haha.

[aquarianlights]

I am in a serious financial bind. 😥 If anyone is in a position to listen & help or signal boost, pls keep reading...

This is from my apartment complex. I am in low-income housing. I called them & sent them proof I could pay on the 23rd. I told them I could (just barely) put 100 down now & they said that was too little.

They said they would file for eviction on the 16th, which adds $150 to my rent. They will cancel the court date and eviction on the 23rd when I pay.

But that doesn't cancel the $150 filing fee.

Idk where that $150 would come from. Idky they think it's fair that someone who cannot pay should be forced to pay even more??? That makes no sense. I can only just barely afford my rent every month as is.

These are from my energy company. I apparently owe them over $600. I genuinely do not know how this happened. We were on the phone for a very long time trying to figure it out & I was in tears for the latter portion of it because I swear I paid.

I usually keep record of my payments via taking a picture of my receipt since they are electronic, but my dog chewed up my phone (which I have pics of if need be for evidence) and broke it, so I had to get a replacement phone sent to me from the insurance company & nothing transferred from the old phone, so all my pics were wiped.

I found no record in my emails, either.

The meds I am taking to try to go into remission and the autoimmune disease itself both cause brain fog and issues with time warping, so it is possible maybe I skipped a month or something, but I highly doubt I would have skipped up to 600+ dollars worth of payments.

I have tons of electronic and hard copy calendars & they are all synced and constantly updated so that I know when payments are due. I also have text and email reminders sent to me, but I could find no reminders in my email for MONTHS now until they were telling me they were going to shut my power off if I didn't pay this. Idk why I was not sent reminders for months???

In the end, I agreed to set up a payment plan. Paying, like... 50-60ish on top of whatever my electric bill is every month for 12 months. It was the lowest they could go.

I can barely afford my electric bill as it is, so idk how I will be able to do this? They did give me a list of charities in my area so I will be using what little energy I have to call around & see if any of them would be willing to help me pay this. Idk how those work (they're mostly churches???), so I'm just gonna try & see what happens. 🤔

On top of all that, I *think* this is telling me my Medicaid has been cancelled but I'm not 100% sure?????

I'm going through treatment for a very serious, disabling problem that should last ~1 year and rn Medicaid is picking up what my Medicare doesn't cover and some of my doctors/specialists and treatments are medicaid only.

If I lose this, I'm basically done.

I know they'll do backpay if I get it back, but Idk if I *will* get it back. I'll be trying to get it back, but in the meantime, I guess I'll just have to pay out of pocket, idk??? Which I do not have.

I have lost almost ALL autonomy due to this autoimmune disease, which (in a very simplified form) is basically my immune cells "eating" my muscle tissue. I can barely get out of bed. Treatment should put me in remission & give me my life back. I am seeing a rheumatologist, neurologist, dermatologist, PCP, physical therapist, psychiatrist, psychologist, and going to a holistic pain treatment center that does a different kind of physical therapy to bring down pain levels (which I was put into that program by my rheum). All of these are in relation to & necessary for my disease. I am going through TONS of testing almost weekly now & trying out treatments like IVIG and chemo where I am in the hospital hooked up to an IV for 4-6+ hrs of that day and the cost of those things without Medicaid picking up what Medicare doesn't cover is astronomical. I have to sign waivers every time I get my blood drawn (which is almost weekly now), do tests, and do treatments saying I will pay if Medicaid does not pick up the extra.

I already have crippling medical debt; I don't need more. I'm scared they won't let me do any more tests or treatments if they see I am just letting it all go to collections & am not paying.

This could mean the difference between having a life worth living (to me) where I am happy & thriving & autonomous or being bed-bound & living a life of just existing from day to day & miserable & in pain & suffering & unable to do anything for myself. This is literally life and death for me because I wouldn't be able to handle continuing to live in the latter scenario. I cannot handle living like I am now. Knowing my treatments are progressing is what keeps me going. Knowing I can go into remission is what keeps me going. Knowing my future is one completely different from now is what keeps me going. But if I cannot have that and am destined to live in this current state, it's just not worth it. I don't know a person alive who would want to live like this.

Finally, my anger noodle needs to get to the vet for MULTIPLE things. Nothing is, like... life threatening or super immediate like his cancer was last year, but they're things that need to be addressed in terms of preventative care & to make sure he isn't in pain.

He needs his trachea checked, possibly x-rays for that, maybe more...

He needs some medication updates, needs a physical, needs a full groom & nail clip under anesthesia (for those who are not familiar with Echo, he has extreme fear-based aggression & usually gets this done under anesthesia; since I worked with him so much, he had his first non-anesthesia nail clip at the beginning of quarantine, but he has gotten worse during quarantine & with my muscle eating disease, I can no longer restrain him & don't have the physical strength to run a brush through his thicker fur as his winter coat is in, so I can no longer groom certain areas of him at home, so his tummy & back legs are matted & I fear he may need to be shaved... which breaks my heart since you don't shave double coat dogs unless medically necessary.), he needs a full physical, & needs to be checked over for MCT's.

He may also need a fecal test or something else, as he has been having odd bowel movements. 😥 His tummy has been upset lately.

I have been crying myself to sleep every single night & often during the day because I cannot get him to the vet. No, it isn't urgent or life threatening. But he is reverse sneezing more than normal & I worry about tracheal collapse, which is a common small dog thing & even MORE common in pomeranians specifically. Every time he has a fit, I think "Oh god, this is it. This is the time I'm gonna have to rush him to the e-vet & get slammed with a huge bill & he is not gonna be okay..."

It breaks my heart to see his legs & belly matted. He is horrible about letting me groom him coz of his aggression so he only gets a full grooms at the vet, but I do short grooming sessions at home with him nightly. Takes about 2 hours just to do the majority of one side of him (not even all of it; just most) coz he needs breaks & lots of praise every few strokes or he will tear me to shreds & hurt himself snapping on the undercoat rake. 😥

But now that my autoimmune disease has atrophied my muscles to the point holding up my phone without something to prop it up feels like I am lifting weights & tires my arms out with a lactic acid burn & pain, I can no longer groom him with the patience he needs & can only groom in 20 minute intervals at the VERY longest. By the time I have gotten one leg done during the week, his entire other side is matted. 😞 Matting on dogs---especially double coat dogs---hurts them. It's like if someone were to wrap your hair around their fingers & then pull it taut. It's a constant pulling pressure on their skin... it's painful & irritates the epidermis. I feel miserable feeling the matting on his back legs & tummy & now feeling the mats beginning to form on the rest of him. He hates me working them out, even with the detangling spray. I know it must hurt so much...

So he may need to be shaved at this point & that will destroy me. I feel sick thinking about it. But anything to get him out of pain. Maybe it is what's best for him while I go through this year of treatment & get my muscles back. But in order to do that, I need to get him to the vet.

The stress of not being able to get him to a vet is tearing me apart & literally making me physically ill.

He is my world. My everything. My #1. My heart dog. My priority in life. My entire universe revolves around him. I would do anything for him. Not a single person, animal, thing, etc, comes before him. It is KILLING me that I cannot provide proper care for him right now. I always always always make sure to sacrifice for him if need be & his things ALWAYS come first, even if it means I'm not eating or not paying bills or whatever. As long as he is taken care of & his needs & wants are met, nothing else matters to me. And right now........ I feel he is suffering because of my finances & the fact my treatment with building my muscles up is not going fast enough.

I cannot control the latter one, but the first one is something I can at least ask for help for. So that is what I am doing.

If anyone is in a place to help, these are my venmo & cashapp codes. I also have paypal.

💙 Venmo: @kqroswell

💚 Cashapp: $kqroswell

💜 Paypal: @kqroswell or thekilliancode@yahoo.com

If there is another form of payment you're thinking of, lemme know. I also have fb pay activated if you have me on FB (Killian Q Roswell).

Thank you to everyone who read through this & anyone who can help or reblog this. 💖

Sincerely,

Your v scared, struggling transman who really wants his bills/rent paid & his dog to go to the vet,

Killian 💞

[this-haunting-hunger]

fic: don’t take this haunting home - IV

Wei Ying lives with many ghosts. It’s usually not a problem. He used to be one himself, after all. However, ghosts have one glaring fault, and it is this: they are, by definition, people who refuse to stay completely dead.

And as far as Wei Ying is concerned, some dead people should stay that way.

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four

Content: angst, violence, ghosts

Pairing: Wangxian

Length: 7.2k

read on ao3

//

Waking up is no harder than being resurrected. Which is to say, it is very hard and kinda nauseating and absolutely disorienting and could he maybe go back to being unconscious? There’s a song drifting at the edge of his awareness, all strings and silver, a soft, cradling presence that makes it seem like staying awake might just be bearable. For several minutes, as the music wraps around him, he lets himself sink into it, into the warm embrace of something familiar but enigmatic. A story he used to know but whose ending he’s forgotten. Let me stay, he finds himself thinking, and doesn’t understand why. Please, let me stay.  

Consciousness is relentless. No matter how hard he tries to push it away, it just comes back, nudges him with ever firmer insistence. Like a mangy dog, burying its cold nose against his skin. A groan peels through his too-dry lips – the music stops – and it feels like his soul is separating from his body with the pitiful sound. Like if he breathes too hard, he’s going to end up losing whatever churned up mess is inside. And gods, that will not be pretty for anyone involved.

Anyone involved… Who is involved? With another low moan, he reaches up, prods tenderly at his forehead. It seems to be distinctly Wei Ying shaped, which is a weird enough discovery to pry his eyes open. He’s greeted by a very welcome face, and a much less welcome surge of pain and dizziness as the light stabs at him.

Since the face has been seared on the insides of his eyelids for years now and he doesn’t fear losing it in the next few minutes, Wei Ying shuts his eyes again. The blackness is a pleasant balm to the pain, though the dizziness seems to have lodged itself into his brain.

“Lan Zhan,” he rasps, only slightly more pathetically than he feels. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I swear I didn’t steal the Emperor’s Smile this time.”

There’s no verbal response, but a hand catches his wrist, fingers skimming gently along his skin until they find what they’re looking for and press more firmly against his meridian line. It would be soothing, that touch, if it didn’t almost feel like it was pushing against someone else’s flesh. The transfer of energy is more familiar, though, ticklish and light and refreshing, and Wei Ying’s eyes flutter before he forces them open again.

It would be altogether too selfish to let himself enjoy the elegant lines of Lan Zhan’s face for a few moments… but oh, it is tempting. Even when those lines are just a trifle too sharp, a little too slanted, his lips pressed a bit too hard together. Even angry, Lan Zhan’s beauty is a visceral thing, summoning a bloom of warmth in the pit of Wei Ying’s stomach, and honestly, he should have more near-death experiences just for the pleasure of waking up to that leaning over him.

Of course, near death or not, Lan Zhan is very often nearby when he wakes up. It’s just that the looming thing is kind of sexy.

But because he is not selfish – and because the anger has something guilty and anxious swarming up his throat – Wei Ying swallows hard and tries to sit up. Lan Zhan immediately puts his free hand on his chest and keeps him pinned, though the man isn’t meeting his gaze, eyes fixed elsewhere. Wei Ying thinks he has nice wrists, but probably not nice enough to warrant them being stared at for thirty or so seconds.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, trying to delicately pry the hand from his chest. It doesn’t move. Even when his other hand joins in the attempt, with Lan Zhan’s fingers still curled around his wrist, he can’t get the other man to shift. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whines, mainly because the Chief Cultivator still isn’t really looking at him.

“Rest,” is his companion’s flat insistence. It’s not the good kind of flat, either, the kind that is steady and stable and extends forever. It’s the kind that makes Wei Ying feel like he’s going to fall, with absolutely nothing to stop the downward slide.

He wilts, dizziness still swimming across his vision. Head falling back onto the bed, Wei Ying keeps his hands clasped around Lan Zhan’s forearm as he murmurs, “I’m glad to see you.”

There’s a pause, a silence that’s too deep, too thick, too easy to suffocate in, and he almost has time to be really, truly afraid. Almost. But not quite. Because then Lan Zhan is replying, in a voice that nearly breaks, “As am I. Wei Ying, you…” Extra pressure from the hand still pressed against his chest, a tightness in the fingers wound around his wrist. They’re the only physical signs of the aggravation Wei Ying knows the other is feeling. It all comes to nothing. “How are you feeling?” his lover asks, as though that were really what he had been about to say.

It’s – almost frustrating. He almost wishes Lan Zhan would let loose the anger, set out accusations in neat little rows, if only so Wei Ying could knock them all asunder. How is he supposed to be chaotically endearing if there’s nothing to whirlwind his way through?

“I’m feeling well rested,” is his response, a trifle more than a trifle obnoxious, and also a lie. A line actually appears between Lan Zhan’s fine eyebrows, which means Wei Ying is really making some progress on the maddening front. Partly because he knows it will annoy the other man, but mainly because he’s genuinely puzzled, he changes the topic. “How did you get here? And where is here, anyways?”

The room they’re in is a generic one, at least from what Wei Ying can tell when he cranes his neck, still unable to sit up because of a certain stubborn someone. One window is letting in a good deal of light, and the place is clean but largely unadorned. A simple bed, a nondescript table with plain sitting cushions, unadorned sectioning screens, little in the way of decoration. It’s also ghost-free, which may or may not be a good thing, but it’s a thing his head is throbbing too much to think about. At least for the next few minutes.

He hasn’t received an answer, but nonetheless he knows. “An inn, right? Which one?”

“Tiantan.”  

The village at the foot of Suntouched Sanctuary. The one he’d passed through this morning. Or – actually, he has no idea how long it’s been since his feet took him up towards the temple. That’s a realization that has disorientation tumbling down his spine, counting out each vertebra like there might be a few too many jammed in there. He wiggles uncomfortably at the thought, and decides he’s probably let Lan Zhan steep in his protective anger for long enough.

Relinquishing his grip on the other man’s arm, he reaches up, trails his fingers over the exposed hollow of Lan Zhan’s throat, brushing back little strands of silky black hair to bare the skin better. His lover doesn’t pull away, and the quizzical half-tilt of his head, the swallow that Wei Ying can feel through the pads of his fingers, they have a helpless little sound stirring behind Wei Ying’s lips. Gods, how can anyone so beautiful be so charming, too? He resists his impulse to wax eloquent about Lan Zhan’s many virtues and says instead, “You know, if you’re so determined to keep me in bed, I can think of a few ways you might convince me to stay.”

It’s light enough in the room to see Lan Zhan’s pupils flare, dark and intent in the splash of sun spilling across his austere face. His throat convulses, another hard swallow, and for half a second, he leans in closer, unbound hair tickling Wei Ying’s face. It looks like he’s actually thinking about what he could do to keep Wei Ying obediently in place. Wei Ying’s body tenses, an automatic response to the smoldering expression, and it occurs to him that he really could think of a few things they could do on this bed. They’re so close right now, the least they could do was kiss…

Lan Zhan’s frustrated exhale puffs against his lips, and then the other man is straightening and backing away. Wei Ying doesn’t bother hiding his disappointed pout, which, given that his masterplan had been to get Lan Zhan to let him up, is a bit ridiculous. Whatever. No one has ever called the Yiling Patriarch a fount of Maturity and Constancy; he sees no reason to get them started now.

“You nearly died. You think I’d want to do… anything… after that?” Lan Zhan’s voice is so strangled with indignation that it’s somewhat funny, and Wei Ying has to stifle his rash impulse to point out that Lan Zhan certainly did want to do something, if only for a moment.

Quickly discarding his disappointment in favour of a smug grin, he sits up before Lan Zhan can change his mind. He only regrets it by about ninety percent when his stomach immediately lurches, nausea and dizzy pain warring for supremacy. The dizziness wins – thankfully – and, swallowing the urge to retch, he swings his legs over the side of the bed. He even (almost) manages to persuade himself that there hadn’t been a moment, half a second or less, when he’d thought his legs might not respond, given that they still don’t feel entirely like his legs. Nothing about this body feels entirely his, right now. A familiar sensation, but one aggravated by his use of Empathy.   

“Wei Ying…”

Ignoring that, he straightens, rolls his shoulders, mainly to convince himself that he has the ability to do so. Giving the room a more careful scan, he notes Lan Zhan’s guqin settled on the low table. The sight of the beautiful instrument has his throat closing, and it takes him a moment to realize why. The music that had been playing – the cursive, melodic trail he had followed out of the wrenching blackness of Wen Zhuliu’s despair – belonged to those strings. And those strings belong to Lan Zhan. Of course he feels like crying.

Of course he doesn’t cry. “Have you seen a spirit recently?” he asks instead, because really, that should take priority over his ripped up insides. “About this tall,” Lan Zhan’s eyes follow his vague hand gesture, “and really grim? You might recognize him, though it’s been a few –”

“Wen Zhuliu,” the other man says. “Yes. He was near when I found you. After you came back from Empathy...” There’s a pause, stagnant with more words that his beloved won’t say, and Wei Ying shifts restlessly, trying not to picture what pitiful state Lan Zhan had probably found him in. Trying not to remember the gut wrenching desperation in the voice that had called him back. “He disappeared when the connection broke. I’ve had the disciples preparing wards to ensure he cannot attack here.”

That distracts him. “The disciples? The – you brought some of the Lans? Who?”

An impassive expression. “Lan Jingyi, Lan Sizhui, Lan Feiyan, Lan Keung. Clan Leader Jin, who was visiting on Sect business, also demanded to come.”

“The kids? You brought the kids!?”

“Wei Ying.” For the first time since Wei Ying has woken up, Lan Zhan’s stone faced glower softens into something awfully close to amusement. “They are not children, despite your insistence on calling them as such.”

His hands flap dismissively. Semantics! “They’re younger than me,” he says by way of explanation, conveniently ignoring the fact that in some ways, he’s not truly much older than they are. “They’re also innocents! Defenseless idiots! How could you bring them into something like this?” If he had been on the sharp side of panic at the thought of Lan Zhan confronting Wen Zhuliu, that’s nothing compared to the gristly fear currently grinding up his insides at the prospect of the juniors being thrown into the mix. 

“It will be a learning experience,” Lan Zhan replies placidly. “Besides, I am here. Does Wei Ying think the Chief Cultivator is incapable of confronting this spirit? Of defending those he’s sworn to protect?” By the end of that, his voice has sharpened, and the very fact that he’s referring to himself by his title shows how upset he is.

“Of course not,” Wei Ying replies instantly. “If I had to choose anyone to be at my side, anyone at all, it would be you. It’s always you.” He leans forward as he says it, the truth of what he’s insisting stark in his eyes, and his lover doesn’t look away.

“Yet you chose to face this alone. You used Empathy alone, despite knowing how dangerous it is.”

Resisting the urge to wince, thankful that Lan Zhan is willing to speak about what’s hurting him and not bottle it up, Wei Ying smiles ruefully. “And that decision worked out so well. I’m… I might have made a mistake. A small one.”

“That almost got you killed.”

“But lucky for me, I have a handsome cultivator ready to swoop in to save me from demons and ghouls and such.” There’s no budge in his companion’s flat expression – not yet – and Wei Ying curbs his levity. “Ah, Lan Zhan, it’s not that I didn’t want you by me. It’s not that I didn’t think you could protect me from Wen Zhuliu. It’s just…” Lan Zhan is still watching him quietly, and he can’t help but reach out a hand, hopeful and yet a little breathless with apprehension, even after all this time.  

The other man doesn’t hesitate to entwine their fingers, and a second later he joins Wei Ying on the bed. Lan Zhan pulls their clasped hands into his lap, a seemingly unconscious gesture, as unconscious as the way he traces gentle lines across Wei Ying’s knuckles. “It’s just…” he prompts patiently, and gods, what did Wei Ying do to deserve such a man by his side? Perhaps he’d been a Saviour of the People in a previous life.

Not in this one, though. Shame creeps along his shoulders, making them hunch, and the raw vulnerability he feels, drawn out by Lan Zhan’s touch, is no less humiliating. Share his fear? Share his pain? Put yet another burden on the Chief Cultivator, as though Wei Ying deserves to be relieved of this weight? The urge to joke – to lie – wavers uneasily on his tongue.

But this, at least, is a habit Wei Ying has learned to restrain. For Lan Zhan, at least. “It’s just…” His free hand gropes along his sternum, like it could sink through his skin and cradle the pit of energy within. “I saw Jiang Cheng without his core, and I saw what it did to him. And when I gave my core to him...” He laughs, but the sound is hollow, and the smile he affixes to his lips is a reflex more than anything. “Lan Zhan, I know people called me a mad dog back then, but truly, sometimes, when I felt the emptiness inside me, well, they were not as wrong as they usually tended to be. I suppose even fools must be right once in a decade, hmm?” He laughs again and the sound rattles through the room before dying.

Lan Zhan is very, very still. He is not moving at all, except for his thumb, still stroking Wei Ying’s fingers. It is a stress response in reaction to grief and guilt for a tragedy long passed. It’s not a judgement. Wei Ying knows this, yet he still feels restless, restive, waiting for his lover to chide him for his thoughts and weakness. Deliberately careless retorts stack on his tongue, ready to topple off and dismiss what he just said, to reassure with a chuckle that the gouges in his soul are nothing.

Yet the man next to him does not offer a reproach. After a long moment, he just shifts, leans his shoulder lightly into Wei Ying. “You were afraid,” he observes quietly, and Wei Ying stiffens at the implication. Before he can argue, though, Lan Zhan shakes his head, a miniscule movement. “For me,” is his clarification.

Wei Ying is quick to agree to that as he relaxes. In his own way. This is swiftly becoming cloying, and he’s eager to move on. Not because he doesn’t want Lan Zhan to know he cares – that’s a battle he’s glad he lost more than a decade ago – but because there is pain in the tightness of his partner’s lips, and Wei Ying is so tired of this phantom ache that neither of them have healed. So… jokes.  

"What would we do if Wen Zhuliu took your core, and you couldn't cast the Silence Spell? I don’t know if our bond could survive the stress."

Lan Zhan does not laugh, or even smile. His intense stare might have been unsettling for someone else, and it had been unnerving for Wei Ying in a different time and place. Now, however, he basks in the attention, in the fierce devotion that inspires such a focus. "Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, "I understand."  

As ever, he cuts straight to the heart of the matter, accepts without the need or desire to dwell on it. Before Wei Ying can be appropriately grateful for that forgiveness, the other man adds, "Next time, tell me. Whatever it is."

"Ah, Lan Zhan, I don't think we'll have the misfortune to meet two Wen Zhuliu ghosts in this lifetime."

A light furrow appears on his lover's forehead, and his posture, already immaculate, somehow becomes even straighter. "Wei Ying, promise me. Whatever it is next time, you'll tell me."

So the stare, as it turns out, can still be a bit unsettling for Wei Ying. He looks away, squirms in his seat and then makes to get up. Lan Zhan still has his hand, however, and the man's grasp is an anchor, forcing him to stay in place. "Wei Ying," he repeats, as close to an anxious entreaty as Lan Zhan ever gets.

Despite being a bit of an escape artist extraordinaire, the Yiling Patriarch is helpless to evade the sincerity of that plea. Huffing, he slouches back on to the bed and pouts. "Aish, fine. Next time I'll drag you with me to hell or wherever I end up."

It is a little bit ridiculous, how pleased the Chief Cultivator looks to be told such a thing. Wei Ying senses a shift in the room, a subtle loosening that means, once again, he’s been believed. Lan Zhan is not a simpleton, nor even particularly naïve, but he does have a tendency to think promises are not, in fact, made to be broken, and a habit of believing everyone else must think the same.       

Lan Zhan hums, whether in pleasure or conciliation, it's hard to say. Either way, the sharp lines of his face have softened, and the tension in his fingers has faded away. With a light snort, Wei Ying returns the pressure with his shoulder, the contact grounding him, letting the fear and guilt die down to a low flicker.

He still feels horrible, but at least it's only his body this time around.

"Speaking of our bond... I don't think it's quite strong enough to let you track me down. How'd you end up finding me?"

The smile is finally there, and Wei Ying had long ago learned to love the subtleties of that barely perceptible quirk, the slight tempering that so many people are likely to overlook.

Although he appreciates it slightly less when it’s at his expense.

“Lan Jingyi was to receive punishment for his actions during the Summer Recital of Values,” Lan Zhan explains calmly, as if that cleared up everything. Wei Ying truly doesn’t know how the young man had gathered so many butterflies, not to mention kept them concealed and unharmed until the moment he’d set them loose throughout the Chamber of Orchids, but he suspects there were accomplices. He also doesn’t know what the lecture-halting prank has to do with the Chief Cultivator finding him.

Seeing his befuddled pout, Lan Zhan’s smile grows by at least a millimeter. It’s dangerously close to being a smirk, now. Bastard. “Wei Ying encourages flexible punishments. I gave Lan Jingyi the choice between writing out the Values four hundred times, or keeping me appraised of your whereabouts and actions. He chose very quickly.”

Clutching dramatically at his chest, Wei Ying gasps, “You got him to spy on me? Isn’t that against the Lan Clan rules? What was the one… ‘Do not take part in dishonest practices.’”

“Be loyal,” Lan Zhan replies without hesitation. “Perform acts of chivalry. Believe sincerely.”

Wei Ying shakes his head. “Ah, Lan Zhan, I have been a bad influence. Lan Qiren would beat us both to hear you degrading the Values by actually thinking about their contradictions.”

The other man’s face loses some of its amusement, eyebrows furrowing in solemn contemplation, and Wei Ying has a moment to regret what was supposed to be a joke. However, Lan Zhan doesn’t seem upset. More softly than before, but more firmly too, the Chief Cultivator quotes, “Do not fail to carry out your promise.”

Their eyes meet, then, and Wei Ying thinks about a sky filled with floating lanterns, about hands clasped under his chin in fervent, naïve prayer. Of Lan Zhan, by his side even then. No regrets. "One of the Jades of Lan could not possibly fail at anything, let alone their promises," he jokes, but means it all the same. Lan Zhan might think differently, but the man has never failed him. Not on a mountain, or anywhere else.

That is not a path he wants to go down, however, so he draws himself up with officious huffiness. “Never mind. That brat has been tailing me? How could I not have noticed?”

“Lan Jingyi is very wily when motivated. Besides, I believe he has mostly followed your tracks, not your presence.”

Head cocking, finger going up to rub at his nose, Wei Ying stares narrowly at the Chief Cultivator. Lan Zhan gives nothing away, ghost of a smile still playing across his lips as he waits for Wei Ying to figure out what he means. Very smug. Very bastardly. And all in such an upright way, it’s impossible to challenge him on it.

Besides, Wei Ying’s attention is caught by the quandary. It takes a long moment, sorting through his mind what he’s done in the last month or so that could possibly count as tracks, but eventually it dawns on him. “The library. He asked Lan Kuan what scrolls I requested!”

A shallow nod is all the confirmation he needs, and he throws up his hands in disgust, ignoring the way it makes his head pulse with pain. He had spent weeks in the library, trying to determine where Wen Zhuliu’s former home was located, and, after he thought he'd figured it out, the best route to get there. He'd also familiarized himself with cases of non-aggressive hauntings, and situations where a cultivator's power continued even after death. It hadn’t occurred to him while researching that the old man who helped him wade through Cloud Recesses’ mountains of scrolls might tip off where he was going. “Aish! Lan Kuan, that doddering meddler!”

“Elder Lan Kuan is your senior, and a respected member of Gusu Lan Clan,” Lan Zhan says disapprovingly. He’s about to say more, no doubt a thrilling if stilted lecture about propriety and appropriate deference to the elderly, when they both hear something. A soft rustle at the screen doors, followed by a sharp inhale, more discrete rustling, and then silence.

Pointing at the door, Wei Ying grins. Anyone else would miss the way his lover inclines his head by just a little, but it’s all the benediction Wei Ying needs. Still smiling, maybe a trifle too evilly, he declares abruptly, “At any rate, Jingyi will pay! I’ll have spirits moan outside his bedroom for a month, at least!”

There’s a pause as Lan Zhan decides whether he actually wants to participate, and then the Chief Cultivator blandly comments, “That would be disruptive to the other disciples.”

“Then I’ll make him eat congee for weeks! Let’s see him spy on me when there’s a hole through his tongue!”  

It’s impossible to say if his learning-to-be-lenient lover would have continued the prank, because there’s a yelp from behind the door, followed by someone else’s wordless protest.

“You lunatic! Don’t you dare!” The exclamation comes as the screen is violently slid open, and three people are revealed, two latched on to the other’s white robes and trying to drag him away. Jingyi won’t be held back, however, and he points accusingly at Wei Ying. "Eating your cooking is a worse punishment than copying the Values ten thousand times!"

While Wei Ying gasps in affront like such a comment could actually wound him, Jingyi spins around. "Hanguang Jun," he says in desperate appeal, "I was just doing what you asked. Don't let this lunatic get me!"

Meanwhile, the two people who had tried to stop him from entering the room have relinquished their grip on his robe and now stand in sheepish silence. Lan Sizhui looks properly remorseful for the spying and interruption – and probably feels that way, too – while Jin Ling is just embarrassed and, to judge from his expression, getting sullen about it.

The Hanguang Jun in question hardly looks at the trio, just rises from the bed and puts his arm behind his back with elegant grace. He says nothing and, with the light from the window shining on his perfect form, accentuating the pale blue designs on his white inner robe, he looks like a god removed from them all. Stern, implacable, and hugely unimpressed with the shenanigans of mortals.

Of course, from where he's standing, Wei Ying can just make out a quirk of oh-so-pretty lips, and he rather suspects the reason Hanguang Jun isn't looking at the kids is to avoid any of them noticing his amusement.

"Hanguang Jun, we are sorry. We were coming to report that we've finished our preparations, and we heard you talking and didn't want to interrupt, so..." Sizhui's voice isn't meek or cringing; it's the steady cadence of a man admitting to his wrong.

Or Wei Ying is just a bit biased when it comes to the disciple.

Jin Ling lifts his chin. "Does Gusu Lan Sect own this inn, huh? Why shouldn't we go where we choose?"

"Be polite," Sizhui mutters, which just goes to show that Jin Ling's elevation to Clan Leader didn't destroy the bonds between them; the ever-polite Lan disciple wouldn't have chided a leader otherwise.

With a scowl, Jin Ling is about to reply with something no doubt unflattering, but Wei Ying cuts in. "You mean you choose to lurk in hallways, Jin Ling? Very strange."

The younger man flushes, but it's Lan Zhan's turn to interrupt. "Sizhui. Everything is prepared?"

"Ah, yes, Hanguang Jun. We've assembled the wards and created a watch schedule. The others are downstairs, making final preparations." So, in Wei Ying’s experience, they’re taking the opportunity to goof off away from Lan Zhan’s somber eyes. As much as Lan Clan disciples ever goof off.  

"I still don't see why we're bothering to ward against some random spirit," Jingyi mumbles, probably not purposefully loudly enough for them all to hear. Jin Ling bobs his head in agreement.

Lan Zhan is unmoved, and starting to get serious. "Wei Ying was harmed by it. That is reason enough." Still, his lover's eyes flicker over to Wei Ying, and for Lan Zhan that might as well be a scream of curiosity. Of course, the Chief Cultivator had been too disciplined – and kind – to jump all over him with questions when Wei Ying first woke up, but it's obvious the questions haven't been far from the front of his mind.

Given that his plan to keep them all safe and in the dark has failed so spectacularly, he has no reason to withhold this information now. “That ‘random spirit’ is Wen Zhuliu,” Wei Ying begins. He expects to have to explain further, about who Wen Zhuliu is and why it matters, and is rather taken aback when all three young disciples jump at his name, exchanging looks of trepidation.

“The Wen Zhuliu?” Jin Ling demands, while Jingyi yelps, “Core Melting Hand?”

Is he ever going to stop being surprised that the things so long gone – the things he lived through – are all but revered as legends now? Including the villains?

Especially the villains, he tells himself playfully. You know better than most how much people like a devil.

Waving a hand, dismissing their concerns, Wei Ying replies, “The very same. I assume Lan Zhan told you I was attempting Empathy before my… uh, nap?” Their blank expressions reassure him that the Chief Cultivator had told them no such thing. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing well enough that the more anxious Lan Zhan was, the more he tended to close up, to communicate only what was directly and immediately relevant. It had probably genuinely not occurred to him to let the disciples know what was going on beyond direct orders.

“Well, I was. Wen Zhuliu was skulking around Cloud Recesses for several weeks, and I couldn’t get him to talk to me. So…” His haphazard gesture is meant to indicate everything that’s happened since then.

Apparently it’s not quite enough for any of them. “For weeks!?” Jingyi looks like he’s picturing rounding a corner in Cloud Recesses and running straight into the imposing spirit. “Why was he there!?”

“And why are you here now?” Jin Ling asks.

More tactful but still confused, Sizhui adds, “And forgive me, Master Wei, but why didn’t you say anything?”

Under the onslaught of questions, he can feel his headache surging, but Wei Ying pushes it back and grins. He struggles with some things, but performing under pressure is not one of them. “So demanding! Well, let’s see…” He’s about to start twirling Chenqing when he realizes the flute isn’t tucked into his belt. Now discomfort does writhe in his chest, and he fumbles at his robes like the instrument might be hidden there. Had it been left at Suntouched Sanctuary? Before he can become more alarmed, Lan Zhan moves forward. Chenqing is in his hand.

Wordlessly, the other man hands it over. With a grateful smile, Wei Ying takes it, the wood comforting under his agitated fingers. He doesn’t know why, but this item – this flute, out of everything he’s ever owned – connects him most to… who he is. Reminds him, when it feels like he’s forgetting.

And he forgets so often.

Whirling Chenqing, perhaps too wildly, Wei Ying resets himself. “As I was saying. He was there to find me. He couldn’t contact me, because…” That still wasn’t entirely clear. Slowly, tasting the words to see how they sound, his gaze drifting over to Lan Zhan to include the cultivator in the speculation, he continues. “There are powerful wards up in Cloud Recesses to dampen ghostly presences. Maybe they stopped him.” Which wouldn’t explain why he hadn’t reached out when Wei Ying had left the wards at the beginning of his trip.

“Resentment, too,” Lan Zhan offers, understanding the gap in the explanation.

Wei Ying considers that, then nods. It made sense.

“What do you mean?” Jingyi asks, bold despite the Chief Cultivator’s presence, and the other disciples crowd closer, too, eager to hear the response.

“What are ghosts made of?” Wei Ying replies, grinning at the mingled exasperation and resignation on the faces of his pupils. They well know his preferred teaching style, and how unlikely he is to give them a straight answer.

Sizhui is the first to respond. “Energy.”

“What kind?”

“Resentful!” That from Jin Ling. The Clan Leader announces it like he’s challenging Wei Ying to call him wrong, and it’s almost painfully reminiscent of Jiang Cheng’s belligerent forcefulness. Still, even now, Wei Ying has to wonder if Jin Ling realizes just how much he takes after his uncle – and how much of a blessing that really is.

Mostly a blessing.

“Often resentful, yes. Good!” Beginning to pace around the room, Wei Ying notes his nephew’s quickly stifled pride with inward amusement. “Not always, but often. Particularly when a person is murdered. And what does the culmination of resentful energy cause?”

Jin Ling is blank, which is understandable. Neither the Jiang nor Jin Sects specialize in suppressing ghosts. Sizhui, on the other hand, is quick to reply. “Distorted personalities, mindless rage, and increased aggression.”

“Precisely! So, Wen Zhuliu did not immediately reach out to me after I left Cloud Recesses because…”

This time there is a pause, but it feels more awkward than uncertain. Jinyi is the one to break the silence. “Because Wen Zhuliu hates you for your part in his murder, and that conflicted with whatever he desired to contact you about. So he didn’t attack you, but he couldn’t connect, either. The resentful energy was too strong.”

Wei Ying positively beams, ignoring the awkwardness. Technically speaking, Wen Zhuliu was murdered, so he doesn’t find it an inept description, despite the children being reluctant to describe it as such. “Ah, Lan Zhan, aren’t these students too bright? Who could have taught them so well?”

When he looks meaningfully at the Chief Cultivator, Lan Zhan lets the silence grow before he answers. “I don’t know.” For him, almost a joke. At Wei Ying’s expense.

With an affronted gasp, Wei Ying points Chenqing at his partner. “You lie! Who but a cultivator of renown, of talent, of brilliance, could have taught them so much? A handsome cultivator with a keen mind, a sense of righteousness, a bottomless fount of knowledge, a desirable face and–”

“Wei Ying.”

Though Lan Zhan says it as an interruption, Wei Ying chooses to interpret it differently. “Ah! Lan Zhan, you flatter me. Such kindness from the Chief Cultivator! But of course, I wasn’t referring to myself.” He winks outrageously, and the barest hint of a flush creeps up Lan Zhan’s cheeks, though he doesn’t reply.

Flipping Chenqing with a flamboyant flourish, satisfied as ever to catch his lover a little off guard, Wei Ying snags the flute out of the air and turns his attention back to the disciples.

Who are currently struggling to contain their amusement at seeing the Chief Cultivator teased. For all that Lan Zhan has, in his own way, relaxed as the years have gone on, that has assuredly not included encouraging others to badger him. Wei Ying tells himself it’s good for the stately cultivator, and it’s definitely good for Wei Ying himself, so…

“So, you well trained trio, why did I go to Suntouched Sanctuary?” A slightly unfair question, if Lan Zhan hasn’t given them all the information, but he isn’t destined to be disappointed today.

“You were researching Wen descendants and the subsidiary Clans at the library!” Jingyi pipes up, only to snap his mouth shut as Wei Ying side-eyes him at the reminder of just who had been spying on him.

Probably to save his friend, Sizhui rushes to fill the gap. “So you found Wen Zhuliu belonged to the Clan who called Suntouched Sanctuary home?”

Relenting his glare, Wei Ying nods. “Mhm. The Zhao Yu Clan lived in Suntouched Sanctuary before the Sunshot Campaign. Empathy with Wen Zhuliu confirmed it; I saw him with… some others from the Clan.” When he says it, his voice changes. Becomes quieter, and Wei Ying is powerless to stop the sorrow that seeps into the words.

He doesn’t want it. Wants to reject the emotion with a vehemence that’s just short of acidic. He’s been avoiding thinking of what Empathy showed ever since he woke up; filled the space in his head with Lan Zhan and the disciples and questions so much easier to answer than the state of his own soul. What does he owe those dead people he never met, strolling through their garden on that sunny day? What does he owe Wen Zhuliu’s Jiaying, with her firm shoulders and growing belly, with her supportive words and eyes so afraid of losing love?

What can he owe her, when she is dead and gone like so many others?

Lan Zhan heard the change and he’s now at Wei Ying’s side, eyes drifting to the floor but senses acutely trained on his partner. Wei Ying knows, can feel, how intently Lan Zhan is focused on him, ready to offer assistance at the slightest word or gesture. Falling into that quiet support, letting it take the weight of his decades-long fatigue, if only for a moment, is a relief he can’t begin to put words to. Not in a way that would do it justice, anyways.

“Is there any alcohol?” he asks, and of course there is, because Lan Zhan foresaw that particular need.  

Though he could order the disciples to do it, the Chief Cultivator strides over to the side table, swipes up two of the jars resting there. Then he is back at Wei Ying’s side, offering the liquid like he’s offering something else. Because, of course, he is.

Wei Ying accepts the drink gratefully, swallows deep and long. Not as good as the Emperor’s Smile, but it does the trick nonetheless, the mild burn tracing down his throat and soothing the pain of far more caustic emotions. By the time he pulls the empty jar from his lips, it’s taken the sting of haunted defensiveness from his thoughts. Not the alcohol itself – after all, Wei Ying is a first class drinker, and one glass is not anywhere near enough to get him drunk – but the familiarity of the motion, of the taste. It brings him memories, and he grounds himself in the sensation of the tart liquor slipping over his tongue.

The disciples are waiting patiently and without surprise. They know his drinking habits well enough – and more than his drinking habits, he is ashamed to admit. Unstopping the second jar but holding off from drinking more just yet, Wei Ying gathers himself. Another reset. He’s no longer in the mood for the question and answer game, as much joy as it usually gives him.

“At a place with strong emotional resonance such as Suntouched Sanctuary, Wen Zhuliu was able to break through the resentment, to reach out to me.” He doesn’t feel like mentioning the way he’d made his target’s resentment surge first. Doesn’t want to talk about the spirit Wen Zhuliu had ripped apart, doesn’t feel like speculating about who they were, who they had been to Core Melting Hand to shatter his fury like they had. Doesn’t want to admit to yet another murder, for all that he hadn’t held the cutting – melting – weapon.

He’ll tell Lan Zhan. Some night, when the candles are out and their bodies speak truths their throats find hard to say, he’ll tell him. But not today.

Tight-lipped, Wei Ying forces a smile. “However, the barriers were not completely gone,” specifically, his barriers, “so I decided to use Empathy to try to understand him more.”

“By yourself,” Sizhui says, and it’s such an echo of Lan Zhan’s disapproval that he has to laugh.

“By myself. It turned out fine.”

Jin Ling snorts. “You tell us all the time that it’s horribly dangerous to do Empathy alone, and then go ahead and do it by yourself anyways.”

With a light shrug, Wei Ying takes a swig out of the jar. “Do as I say, not as I do.” Smacking his lips to drown out Jinyi and Jin Ling’s protests, he waves off their affront. “At any rate, I learned much.” Much more than he’d wanted to, in fact. “Namely, how to get Wen Zhuliu to stop skulking around. He’s looking for someone.”

“To kill them?” Jinyi asks. He and Ouyang Zizhen both have a penchant for the melodramatic.

“No. They were… taken from him. He wants to find them.”

“Who are they?” Trust Lan Zhan to speak and ask the only question that matters. Well, one of two questions that matter.

There’s a tightness in his shoulders that no amount of drink will ease. Why can’t he get the warm feeling out of his chest, the one that Wen Zhuliu had clutched at so desperately when he was searching for her? It’s not his feeling, he doesn’t want it, doesn’t want anything to do with it.

He forces his mouth not to caress the name. “Mingxia. His daughter.”

The juniors react to that with the expected level of shock. Amid the yelps and rush of speculation, though, Wei Ying doesn’t look at the youngsters. His gaze searches out Lan Zhan’s eyes, and when he finds those dark expanses, he can tell the Chief Cultivator is disturbed. There’s a furrow across his brow, and he’s leaning forward just slightly. Is he thinking about that night, when he’d allowed Jiang Cheng’s Zidian to take one life, and had permitted the brothers to take another life after a great deal of pain and screaming? Or is he remembering the many Wens and Wen supporters he’s killed, cultivators all and none defenseless, but belonging to a family nonetheless?

Or is that just Wei Ying, inserting his own guilt into the honorable man?

Jiaying is probably dead. How else could Mingxia have ended up alone, and in such desperate straits? But how had she died? What had happened from the time Wen Zhuliu left the garden, certain he would see his wife again, to this very day?

What had happened, besides Wen Zhuliu being murdered, along with the man he’d sworn to protect?

Wei Ying thinks, if it had just been the two of them, Lan Zhan would have reached out by now. He would have gladly accepted his lover’s touch, gratefully pressed his face against his strong shoulder and hidden from the world. If only for a moment.  

Alas. They’ve an audience.

Interrupting the excited flurry of words between the disciples, Wei Ying says, “If we recover her, Wen Zhuli will probably stop bothering me.” Or at least his ghost will. The memories… well, some things are better at haunting than even ghosts.

“But who took her? Did you see through Empathy?” That from Sizhui, and is it any surprise he asked the second important question?

Wei Ying spreads his hands in a hapless gesture (after finishing chugging the second jar). “I didn’t see enough to be sure. But I think I know who’ll have an idea where to start.”

Jin Ling frowns, exchanging confused glances with his friends, but Lan Zhan’s mouth has thinned. He suspects he knows who Wei Ying is talking about, and he’s not sure if he’s pleased about it. Wei Ying sympathizes.

He smiles anyways. At least the man is interesting. “What do you say?” he asks the Chief Cultivator playfully. “How do you feel about visiting our old friend Huaisang?”  

[sleevesareforlosers]

also! i know you’ve mentioned quite a few times before in posts/fics about how party and kobra really only met right before they left the city? and i’m not entirely sure if i’ve just missed it but i would LOVE for elaboration specifically on that. i just!! am super interested to know about them and their lives in the city...and how everything shakes out regarding that 👀

!!!! okay thats def one of the more obscure bits of my canon? bc in universe party and kobra dont rlly like talking about it and on a meta level city life isnt rlly something i wanna devote too much energy to writing but i HAVE thought abt it!

i covered it a little bit in this fic but some details have shifted a bit just irt kobras job/timeline bc its over (i think?) a year old and its short so. not super elaborate

so when i say that they hadnt really met before leaving the city its like. they knew each other and lived with each other but they weren't really themselves. party bc of like. reeducation and kobra bc he was really fucked up with a combination of dysphoria and city drugs both prescribed and not (which i *think* ive mentioned arent a given in the city? most people dont get medicated the same way kobra did and not all the city meds are bad)

i will say that they were pretty close before party got reeducated. as close as u can be when ur thirteen and eight at least. but ofc he got taken and came back Completely different and kobra was a smart kid and kinda realized that directly confronting him abt the change would end really badly for both of them. party was rlly susceptible to the reeducation and its not their fault in any way but they definitely would have reported kobra if he'd tried to make a move.

so then once kobra snapped and cut his hair and party snapped out of the reeducation (combination of time since getting bleached and like. still being a caring and loving person under it all and knowing that he should care abt kobra) they escaped obviously and had to do a little crash course in 'how to be siblings' bc until then they were more just. people that lived in the same house and had nothing in common to talk about so they jsut didnt. i hope that makes sense? they knew each other but they didnt Really Know each other

as for what life in the city looked like for them!

i feel like its kinda important to know that their parents were low-level workers so they grew up in the slums on the edge of the city. not the worst part of the city (the lobby) but not downtown or even a suburban area.

party (post reeducation) became a total model student and ended up in a mid/high-level admin position in hq as soon as he graduated, set to get a promotion when he turned 20 and was in the process of trying to move out to a place of his own actually. kept getting their applications rejected bc they didnt have an "approved reason" to not live w their parents (no long-term partner and not a high enough level to qualify for one of the downtown studios). wasn't necessarily getting frustrated with the company but was getting frustrated with not being able to "start his own life" in his own apartment yknow? also a bit of a superiority complex/classism thing bc of having a higher-level job than their parents, wanting to live in a nicer part of the city like the rest of their colleagues. he had a Few friends, mostly from work, but it was nothing like the crew and friends hed had pre-reeducation bc. you know. obviously. it was just a little group of polite, well trained late-teens bli drones who got up to just the right amounts of bli-approved trouble (android girls and mood synthesizers but only on saturdays type deal). um. probably the least bli-approved thing they did was give spare carbons to broken-down droids in street corners and pretend to listen to the ones preaching the graffiti bible. This is all actually a huge reason Why party is so wanted by bli, like apart from the obvious of being a killjoy and fucking up a lot of shit for the company, he was also So close to being a perfect citizen that rebelling and escaping is a real lemon-juice-in-the-papercut for bli

kobra, on the other hand, was about one and a half Minor infractions away from getting reeducated himself. bli mostly saves reeducation and bleaching for people with confirmed rebellious biases or actions, people they dont think would be trusted enough to take their pills basically. theyd get fed up after enough violations though. kobra was on watch as a nuisance, but not a rebel, so he got away with attempts at medication and therapy that were... kinda effective? but he was Really pushing it especially once he got his job in the lobby and started running with lobby kids. really just imagine an absolute menace shithead of a fourteen year old breaking every law he could get his well-manicured but grubby little hands on. i think at some point ive mentioned that half the reason kobra was so good with tech and wiring was bc he picked it up from fucking with scarecrow cars and reprogramming shit about them? yeah. im not gonna say kobra's friends were like. a bad crowd. they were just chafing against city culture in a very specific way. lots of sex, violence, vandalism, underage mood synthesizer use (and by underage i mean even below the technically-underage-but-bli-looks-the-other-way-bc-they-know-people-need-to-feel-rebellious-sometimes age that like. party and his friends started trying them at). this is when he learned how to knife fight too which definitely saved both his and party's life the first night in the zones. on top of this all is the whole trans thing which isnt something thats necessarily frowned upon in the city, but when kobra finally realized what was up he went about it in a non-city-approved way (hacking his hair off with a set of nail clippers rather than like. submitting a transition application) and that absolutely would have been the last straw for him for the city if party had reported him rather than stuffed him in their car and left.

i dont know how to tldr this one but like. they both led really different lives in the city, kobra being rebellious and breaking laws but not in a killjoy way and party being So close to being a perfect citizen as a result of getting reeducated when he was thirteen, so they weren't honest with each other until party's bleaching broke and they left the city and THATS why i say they hadnt really met until they escaped.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Gravity Rides Everything

Description: For Mickey, survival was one thing. Recovery is another.

Warnings: angst, anxiety disorders, PTSD, references to sexual violence, references to drug use, references to gun violence, smoking, blood, sexual content, 18+

Note: This is a heavy piece that is set in an AU after the movie. The title is a reference to a song by Modest Mouse.

“I’m fine, baby.”

He had said it so many times that the words were worn and threadbare, no longer signifying meaning. Mickey sat on the couch in her apartment, his left knee bouncing with nervous energy as he brought a cigarette to his lips, ignoring the tremor in his hand as he took a long, slow drag. It was the one vice he would keep. A man couldn’t detox from all of his coping mechanisms at once.

She sat down beside him and folded the new jean jacket she’d bought for him to replace the old one after she couldn’t get the blood stains to lift from the denim. “Mickey,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re safe.”

“I know, I know,” he said as though he didn’t believe the words. He covered his face with his tattooed hands and inhaled sharply, trying to regain control of himself.

“Come here.” She tugged on his arm, and when he didn’t move, she heaved his massive frame over to her, coaxing him to lay his head on her chest. He took a ragged breath as she grabbed the cigarette and set it in the ashtray beside the couch. She threaded her fingers in his overgrown hair, dragging her fingernails lightly over his scalp and down to the nape of his neck, where she let her hand rest, cradling his head. She thought he might try to protest again that he really was fine, that it didn’t affect him the way she thought it did, but his broad shoulders were shaking and he whimpered a little.

“Shh, baby,” she whispered, rubbing his back. “It’s over, okay?”

Ever since Mickey came home from rehab, the memories of their last score gripped him with a new ferocity—a side effect, she thought, of being unmedicated. She had argued with the condescending men in white coats until she wanted to scream that they had no idea what drug-seeking behavior really looked like. They had both lived it, falling down the rabbit hole of increasingly reckless decisions, chasing a high that always seemed out of reach. It looked like robbing convenience stores to pay off your dealer—not presenting to a doctor with a sixteen-year history of treatment for ADHD and anxiety disorders.

But she couldn’t say any of that out loud. They had been insanely lucky, not only because they survived, but because they hadn’t been caught. Mickey’s stint in rehab was the self-imposed intervention of a man who had outlived what should have killed him. The doctor finally agreed to a controlled-substance contract that required a drug screening before each refill and prescribed a dose of Adderall so low it would hardly have any effect on someone his size.

“I know,” Mickey said quietly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry.”

But he wasn’t fine. She had first noticed it in the hospital, when he had started to hyperventilate because he thought the pneumatic compression cuffs wrapped around his calves were tying him down. She had tried to explain that they were there to prevent blood clots, but the nurse had to administer a sedative to prevent him from ripping out his IV and staggering outside to hotwire the first car he saw in the parking lot. Then, when they got home, he went for days without sleeping. She would wake up in the morning to find him still propped up in bed, watching reruns of Ancient Aliens as he fidgeted with the rings on his fingers, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

“Stop lying to me,” she whispered. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not. It’s okay if you’re not fine.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her. She knew him well enough to see the signs—the way he looked away when she asked him questions, the way he would idly tap at one of his lower canine teeth with his fingernail and say nothing at all. Whenever she had asked him what happened while they were separated during their shared living nightmare, he glossed over the episode. She knew it had resulted in him getting shot, but nothing else. Mickey laid down and put his head in her lap. He counted his breaths, trying to stave off a panic attack. She scratched his head again and counted with him until he was almost breathing normally. And then he confessed to her, with his face hidden against her thighs, everything that had happened.

“Mickey,” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion as her fingers stilled in his hair. She wanted to go back in time and kill that woman for what she had tried to do to him.

“Don't cry, babe. Nothing actually happened,” he said as though all of it was rendered null by the fact that his quick thinking had prevented things from going further. He stared at the muted television, and they sat like that for hours until he fell asleep.

Even after that night, Mickey insisted it wasn’t affecting him. But when they tried to be physical he would feel a pressure building in his chest until he couldn’t breathe, and he would have to put his head between his knees until the attack had passed. The memories were tangled together in his head—lips smashing against his mouth, hands skittering over his crotch, bullets cracking in the air and ripping through his flesh. The sum of all that had happened could strike him down on a hair trigger and leave him reeling and helpless.

They were both starving for intimacy, desperate to find their way back to each other. She needed to ease him back into things, to remind him that he would always be safe with her, that she would never do anything without his permission, and that he could revoke it at any time.  

“I want you, Mickey,” she whispered one morning. Her ass was nestled in the spoon of his hips and she could feel his erection brushing against her while they lingered in bed, reluctant to move from the cozy warmth of the blankets stretched over them both.

He hummed in sleepy agreement and kissed her bare shoulder, tickling her skin with the bristly hair on his upper lip. She rolled over in his arms and looked into his green eyes, still heavy-lidded from slumber.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” she asked as he smoothed his hand over her hips and gave the swell of her ass a gentle squeeze.

A smile ghosted over Mickey’s face. “’Course it is,” he murmured.

She pressed her lips against his, kissing him with a tenderness that surprised him. He was fully awake now, and he slowly guided her on top of him as he deepened the kiss, savoring the sweet taste of the strawberry chapstick she always wore on her lips and the warmth of her tongue as it dipped into his mouth. There was something soothing about the way her hair cascaded around his face, blocking out the rest of the world so he could focus on her alone. He slipped his hands under her shirt and helped her peel it off, trailing his hands over her stomach to cup her breasts. She purred against his lips.

“Is it okay if I take off your sweatpants?”

Mickey nodded at her and caressed the curve of her breasts. The way she handled him so delicately felt strange, like they were teenagers back in his bedroom where he had been afraid to take off her jeans for the first time, only now the roles were reversed. He thought about how his old man would call him a pussy if he could see him now, so fragile that his girlfriend thought he would fall to pieces if she pulled down his pants without asking for permission. She freed him from his grey sweats and his boxers, tracing her fingers along the line of his hips and glancing back up at him for confirmation.

“Is it okay if I touch you, baby?” she asked.

“Yes, babe,” he said. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to be so careful, but he had a lump in his throat and doubted he could speak without his voice breaking. She prompted him with her soft voice to make sure he was still okay as she stroked him. He nodded, trying to focus on how good she was making him feel, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how she was so gentle with him, how she loved him so much even though he was broken. He felt a swell of emotion cresting in him and furrowed his brows, fighting the sudden urge to cry. She saw the look on his face and stilled her hand.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, worried she had triggered an episode without realizing it.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Mickey stammered. He covered his face with his hands to hide the tears leaking from his eyes, but his voice cracked as he spoke. “I want you, babe, I want you so fucking bad.”

“Me too, baby.”

She guided him inside her, and he groaned softly once he was sheathed in her warmth. He had missed this so much. A breathy gasp escaped her lips as she began to roll her hips, and he knew she had missed it too. She leaned forward and took his hands in hers, guiding them over her body him to remind him that he had permission to touch her as well. But all he wanted was to be closer, so he coaxed her down until he could feel the warmth of her body against his chest and swallowed hard as she kissed the tears from his cheeks.

“I love you so much, Mickey,” she whispered, letting her hair fall in a halo around them.

“I know,” he sobbed.