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jungkookie1998 · 3 years

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Smeraldo (Jin X Reader) PT. 1

🌼 Summary: You decide to start a new life in the town you grew up then, but everything has changed. There are many new places in your old town, including a flower shop with a peculiar name.

🌼 Genre: romance, fluff, strangers to lovers

🌼 Warnings: None, unless you can’t handle Mr. WWH

🌼 Words: 2.12K

🌼 A/N: This is my first Jin FF and second FF ever over all. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading!

Warmth. That’s what you felt as you squint your eyes and look through your fingers towards the bright and protruding sun. The warmth brought you slight comfort as you drag your overfilled suitcase along, walking through the path towards the house you will be staying at from now on. It had once been your childhood home: filled with happiness, sadness, and endless memories. Your grandmother had raised you, as your parents were not in the picture from as far as you can remember. You become painfully aware of how quiet and dark the house feels now as you think about your grandmother that had recently passed away. It had been years since you had left this town, and everything that you remember has now changed. The town had grown exponentially, adding many new stores, restaurants, and even activities that now suited the younger generation that you had not gotten to experience before. After taking time to yourself to figure out what you wanted to do with your life, you decided after your grandmother's passing to come back and make a life for yourself here. Your grandmother left this cottage in her will, and you can’t be more than happy to start your life in the most precious place you remember.

You decided the first step to your new life here would be to fix up the cottage, making it a dream home just like your grandmother once had. You decide to set out tomorrow to buy the equipment needed to upgrade the house. The house wasn’t too run down, but it was quite old and therefore had older appliances, pipes, and hardware that would need fixing to adhere to modern times. You look around at the dusty tarps covering the furniture and let out a breath. “Okay, time to get to work.” You stretch out a bit before you start to take everything down, carefully as to try not to break or drop anything. You take time to clean everything down, and continue this throughout every single room. The house wasn’t too big, just 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms with a decent sized living and kitchen area. It was quite cozy and would suit a small family well, not that you were thinking about that quite yet. After a few hours of cleaning, and putting all the useless items away, you had finally finished and decided you were exhausted. You lay on the freshly clean sheets and take everything in. “First night of my new life. I hope it all goes well from here on out.” You smile to yourself softly, as you slowly drift to sleep.

The next day, you’re out shopping for supplies and decide to also check out the town and see all the new places that were not around when you had lived here. You quite enjoy the bustling of the new town. Laughter fills the air as the children run down the sidewalks; You hear the music from the mini amusement park, and smell the sweetness of the cotton candy. Families are sat down outside of the restaurants, as the weather is quite comfortable here. Although the joy of the world around you is quite contagious, a little part of you also feels a little lonely. You decide to shrug it off, and notice a flower shop a little bit away from everything else. “Smeraldo” you read aloud. You wonder what kind of name that is and why the shop is named that, but don’t dwell on it as you think to yourself that you want to also work on a flower garden for your house and should look inside. As you walk inside, a plethora of different flower scents hit your nose. You’re glad you don’t have allergies, otherwise you might be sneezing like crazy about now.

You can’t help but notice how clean and organized everything is, almost a little too much. You notice you are the only one in the shop, and that you don’t see an owner or worker. You decide to wait a bit before searching for them, as you originally came to browse. You don’t remember ever seeing so many flowers in one place, it was almost impressive. You feel a bit overwhelmed as you don’t know flowers too well, you just really enjoy how they look. As you look closer at a specific flower that catches your eye, you are suddenly surprised by an unfamiliar presence that made their way behind you. You look towards this person, not expecting to see the person that graced your eyes. It was a man, late 20’s with strikingly good looks that almost shake you to your core. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I noticed you were looking and wanted to check on you and see if you needed help.” You regain your composure, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I was just browsing.” He gives you a sincere smile, as he nods in understanding. His lips were so perfectly shaped, it baffled you how someone could look so perfect. “Well… let me know if I can help you out in any way, miss.” He goes to turn, but before he could you spoke out. “Um, actually I was looking for some flowers to plant outside of my cottage, but I don’t know flowers too well. I just like how beautiful they are.” You flushed a little, feeling shy suddenly. He tilts his head and offers a reassuring smile. “Yes, of course. They’re in the back. Follow me.” You follow him towards the back, and come upon one of the best flower collections you have ever seen. He takes a moment to look at all the options, before turning to you and asking, “What are you looking for? Is there anything in particular you want as far as color or size?” You ponder for a second, really thinking about what you want. “Honestly, I don’t know. I really just came with the idea of finding something I just thought was pretty…” You crouch down and assess some nearby flowers, taking the time to sniff each one. The man doesn’t say anything for what seems like a while. “What made you want to plant flowers suddenly, if you don’t mind me asking?” He turns to you, curiosity plaguing his face. You smile softly to yourself, while lightly caressing the flower in front of you. “I just moved here after being away for a long time. My grandma had passed away, so I decided to come and fix up the old cottage and I thought adding flowers would be a nice change.” The man takes in what you say, and suddenly reaches to grab an assortment of different flowers. “Say… do you know that flowers have a meaning behind them?” You tilt your head and hum. “Well, I do know that of course but I couldn’t tell you what the meanings are at all.” The man places the flowers in front of you, and begins pointing at a collection of pink and white bulbous flowers. “Protea. This flower’s meaning is change, transformation, and courage.” He points at another flower, a stem of tiny white flowers. “Lily of the valley. While there are many meanings, one meaning is the return of happiness.” He points at the final flower, one that you even recognize even with the different colors. “Iris. The meaning of this one is hope.” You were stunned for a moment, not expecting him to have put so much thought into something that seemed so small to you. You could feel yourself getting a little emotional. “O-Oh thank you. That’s perfectly suited towards my feelings.” you stuttered slightly. For a moment, neither of you speak or move and the atmosphere starts to make you feel stuffy. You decided to break the silence. “So… I’m new around here and don’t know anyone yet, and I have a feeling that I might be coming here often. May I know your name? My name is Y/N.” He looks around frantically for a second, before searching the counter and picking up a small object. “Sorry! I didn’t realize my name tag was off! My name is Jin.” He pins his name back on before laughing off his mistake. “Anyways, nice to meet you Y/N.” You smile at him again before looking down at the flowers again. You’re not the best at talking to people, but you try. “If you don’t mind me asking... I was curious about your shop’s name. What is the meaning behind it?” You nonchalantly say as you start gathering up the flowers that he brought to you, and putting them on the counter. “Smeraldo?” he hesitates for a second and bites his lip before continuing on. “Smeraldo is a flower that does not exist. It is the flower of a legend you could say. Smeraldo means “emerald” in Italian, although the true meaning of the flower is different. The flower’s language is ‘non potevo dire la verità’ which translates to ‘the truth that couldn’t be told.’ The story is about a man who lived in a castle alone, who had come to hate people. He grew flowers in his garden, and one day a little girl had stolen some. He grew angry with the girl and decided to watch the garden to catch her in the act. He later learned that she was in fact poor, and was trying to sell the flowers for a living. He wanted to help the little girl, so he decided to create a new flower no one had ever seen before so she could fetch a higher price. However, after creating this flower, he did not see the girl again. She had passed away. The flower's meaning comes from the feelings of the man who had wondered if maybe he should have shown himself to her, and shown the truth of his existence.” You listened to his story quietly, and watched his expression. You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the story related to him in a way, as you saw a flicker of sadness take over his face. It only lasted a brief moment, as he was smiling again, perhaps to hide his feelings. “I really liked the story so I decided to name it after the flower from that story.” he finishes explaining quickly, now trying to help assist you in getting the plants ready for you to take. “Well Jin, I really like the meaning behind it and although it is quite sad, the meaning is very deep. I think it's wonderful how flowers have a language of their own. Thank you for teaching me that today.” Jin pauses a moment, before clearing his throat and nodding his head slightly. You could swear you saw a blush plaster over his cheeks. “You’re welcome. I’d be happy to teach you anytime. Also, If you’d be interested… I’d be more than happy to help you plant all these flowers and bring you more tomorrow as well. This is a lot of work for one person after all.” He shrugs it off, acting like it's not a big deal. You bite your lip, and play with your fingers. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your work or anything.” He smiles brightly again at you, seemingly in a better mood. “Of course. I love flowers after all, and I’d love to see them in your garden fulfilling their new purpose.” You could feel the passion in his voice, and in the energy surrounding him. “Alright, thank you Jin. I’ll pay for it all now and I’ll see you tomorrow?” you said hopefully. Jin nods and goes to ring you up. “Of course. I’ll come by sometime in the afternoon.” You grab your receipt and bow down slightly to him before saying your goodbye, and get out of there quickly, tightly holding your receipt to your chest. You didn’t know how such a short interaction with him could be making you feel so excited but… you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

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drxwsyni · 4 years

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Healing (pt.1/3)

Yandere Chisaki Kai/Overhaul x quirkless!f!Reader

Part 2︱Part 3

a/n: please do not read this piece if themes of poor mental health are upsetting to you. i am in no way attempting to romanticize these issues, having dealt with them in the past and knowing all too well how serious it is. i have never endorsed the harmful actions of people in my work and never will. please take care of yourselves and read at your own discretion. also this is a repost because it disappeared from the tags for some reason?

warnings: mental health problems, injury

4.2k words

_____

This is for your own good, he said.

The world is a disease ridden place, and remaining in it has left you broken.

You weren’t broken, you were fine. Sure, handling the pressures of simply existing as a result of being born without a quirk were tasking. People had not exactly been kind to you growing up, and that may have affected your health significantly. But you were handling it just fine.

While you couldn’t disagree with the fact that people did seem to enjoy using you, whatever had developed as a result of him discovering this reality wasn’t better in the slightest.

He said you needed time to heal, both physically and mentally. You could trust him, he was the only person who saw how faultless your existence was.

At some point you felt like you deserved to be mistreated by everyone around you, given how common of an occurrence it was. So when the yakuza leader came to you himself, going on about how unfairly you’d been handled all your life, it was hard not to trust him.

Now, you realize just how big of a mistake doing so was.

To be fair, he did live up to his promises. Kai said he wanted to help you heal, and what better way to do that than to move in with him. He had all the necessary equipment, and more than enough money to provide for you during your rehabilitation process.

However, he failed to mention the lengths he was willing to go to ensure your ‘good health’. Thinking you would stay with him until you got better, and then go back to living on your own once any pre existing issues had been taken care of slowly started to become an unattainable dream.

Upon arrival at the yakuza’s base, Kai instructed that it’d be in your best interest to not leave the premises. There was plenty of courtyard space for fresh air, and anything you needed would be picked up for you. Your room had been spacious enough, luxurious almost. Aside from the underground network of facilities, you were permitted to have free range of the base. The only condition was that you kept an escort with you at all times. Generally, these terms didn’t seem too bad.

It wasn’t until you sat down in his office to go through the rest of your new living plan that you realized just how committed he was to seeing your health improve.

Everything was planned to a T. When you’d wake up, take medication, bathe, eat, go to bed. He had taken into account any intolerances or allergies and developed a comprehensive meal program that catered to them. The most important element was the checkups scheduled twice a week to monitor your physical health.

While you didn’t enjoy the idea of being examined so regularly, you couldn’t argue that you’d neglected many problems over your lifetime. Sure, blood tests and vaccine administered supplements weren’t fun. But for the sake of rehabilitation you supposed that it was just another necessary evil.

What was concerning was his policy on electronic devices, specifically for recreational use. According to him, having a phone would only hinder the process, and therefore it wasn’t something you needed.

“Should you require anything you need only to ask either myself or a subordinate. Seeming as you should always have an escort there will be no issue with the matter of not being able to contact anyone.”

Kai truly had everything covered, and with how reassuring he was it became hard to see any flaws in the plan.

And so you took up residence in the leader’s base, grateful for the opportunity to live without being weighed down by society's corrupt expectations.

_____

The first few weeks went fairly smoothly, using the time to learn the layout of the establishment. Not that you could ever get lost, with one of his subordinates trailing you in case you required assistance. You quite enjoyed the company of Chisaki’s underlings, along with that of the man himself.

Every day you’d spend time in the courtyard, or go for a walk along the path against the inside edges of the base. Oftentimes Kurono would accompany you, and the two of you would make small talk over menial subjects. Later on you’d return to Kai’s office where you’d sit on the sofa positioned to the side of the room, reading a novel he’d selected while he worked at his desk.

Generally, your experience went fairly smoothly. The distance you’d put between yourself and the reality outside those tall concrete walls had done a lot of good. However, not everything can be solved with simply removing yourself entirely from a bad situation.

Although your living quarters were comfortable and welcoming, there was something unfamiliar about it that was off putting. To combat this, you decided a quick trip home to pick up a few belongings couldn’t hurt.

It’d only taken you roughly twenty-five minutes to travel back on foot to your small, cheap little single floor house on the edge of town. Another ten to gather some items, and then you walked back to the base. However, upon returning you’d come to understand how badly you’d messed up.

It was early in the morning before you’d left, and there were no examinations scheduled either. Not wanting to bother anyone with your needs, you had left the base alone without notifying Chisaki.

That was your first mistake.

He was waiting for you at the front entrance, arms crossed with an aggravated look on his face, although it was hard to read given the mask hiding a good half of his facial features. But if that didn’t give away his anger, then the death grip he placed on your forearm as he dragged you to your designated bedroom did.

He practically threw you inside the room, slamming the doors behind him. He only took a second to compose himself before speaking. “I thought I made it very clear that you were not to leave the premises, let alone by yourself.”

You knew Chisaki was quite the stern man, seeing first hand once or twice with how he treated his subordinates. But this was new, he’d never gotten mad at you, let alone get physically aggressive.

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, I was just grabbing some things to make my room a little more comfortable.”

“Did I not tell you that whatever you needed would be picked up for you?”

His demeanour suggested that the question was not rhetorical. “You did, I know. I just didn’t want to bother Kurono or anyone else to go with me so early.”

Something about your open concern for others seemed to pacify his rage, letting out a sigh before moving to sit on the short couch next to him. Leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, Kai responded. “Staying inside the base is a crucial part to your healing, I can’t let you leave knowing the danger you’d be putting yourself in without protection. You should refrain from doing something so reckless moving forward.”

You moved from your standing position to sit down next to him, of course keeping a respectable distance knowing his abhorrence to bacteria, and generally people as well. “I’m sorry for making you worry, I was just a bit homesick is all.”

The yakuza turned his head to look at you, brows furrowed in a somewhat inquisitive manner. His amber eyes pierced through yours, seemingly searching for answers to questions that couldn’t be asked. “I hope you’re aware of how important someone like yourself is to my cause. Those without quirks are growing increasingly rare, and it’s causing more issues than the world can keep up with.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I believe it goes without saying that I’d be deeply upset if anything were to happen to you. Normally I couldn’t be bothered with such a thing… but you’re the exception.”

Chisaki stood up and walked toward the bedroom door before facing you again. “Take a bath and then return to my office with your book. Kurono will be waiting outside your door to escort you.”

You watched him leave the room, waiting for the door to completely shut before letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding all this time.

Whatever that was, you never wanted to encounter it again. Maybe, you thought, I’d be better off getting out of here sooner rather than later.

_____

After the first incident occurred you presumed things would return to normal, but of course that would be too convenient. It seemed that there was now a slight increase in security around the base. The development was immediate, making it hard to miss. Any exits leading outside―those literally outside, say to the courtyard―and gates to exit the compound were guarded by one of Chisaki’s underlings.

On top of that, he had one of his men stationed outside your bedroom 24/7, whether you needed an escort or not. He never bothered to notify you of this change in particular. It only came to your attention after hearing the verbal exchange of two men outside your door, doing what you assumed was rotating shifts.

It was unnerving, to say the least. The incident had been minor as far as you perceived it, but the unspoken changes around you demonstrated otherwise.

Aside from that, you thankfully regarded the steady improvement to your health. Your energy had returned significantly, likely thanks to the mandatory eight hours of sleep. The daily walks had eliminated the general weakness and lack of stamina you experienced. Even your face took on a warm glow, eye-bags almost non existent and blemishes quickly fading.

It would seem that your departure from this temporary rehabilitation would come sooner than you expected.

Yet the more your condition improved, the stricter Kai became with your routine. Not only that, but he also seemed to be growing more comfortable having you near him.

Now, with any normal person this familiarness would only be expected. But you knew better, and a voice deep in the back of your mind was telling you that this new predicament wouldn’t end well.

_____

The next incident seemed to be the thing that set him off, solidifying your future.

It had been roughly a month and a half since you accepted being cared for at the yakuza’s compound. By now the problems which put you in this situation were almost entirely taken care of, but that didn’t stop Kai from enforcing his rules more than ever.

Frankly, the repetitive, unwavering routine you’d been following was starting to create its own problems within your health―you were going a bit stir crazy.

After the last warning, you’d be lying if you said the main thing keeping you from leaving was fear for how Chisaki would react. Now however, it’d been too long since you experienced the real world, and even if it was only for an hour, you desperately needed to go outside the walls of the compound.

You took the issue to Kai during the time you spent reading in his office. He was going to have to let you do this, staying cooped up any longer wouldn’t be good for you and even he couldn’t ignore that reality.

After what felt like an endless back and forth discussion, seemingly getting nowhere on either side, you started to believe that he really didn’t think the situation was an actual problem.

But you knew he had a soft spot for you, and eventually the man did cave to your request.

Accompanied by one of his more trusted subordinates, you were allowed to leave the base for two hours. You took this much appreciated freedom to do some window shopping here and there, at one point stopping to buy latte―of course not before fighting with your escort over how Kai would disapprove of you doing so, the caffeine apparently being bad for you.

You were nearing the end of your time limit, and still you remained unsatisfied with what felt like an all too brief reintroduction to society.

Pushing your luck, you headed to the center of the downtown area, hoping the bustling life and bright colours would be enough to satiate your need for external stimulation.

Before you had left the compound that day, Kai had stopped you for a moment at the front entrance. The statement was quick―he advised you to stay out of any heavy populated areas. According to him it posed too high of a risk to your safety, and you should heed his words if you knew what was good for you.

However, now that you were out and getting a taste of everything you didn’t even realize you were missing, those warnings were the last thing to concern you. Oh, how foolish you were to even believe there was nothing wrong with going against him for a second.

You heard the destruction before you felt it. The cause of it was unidentifiable, as before you could steal a glance from the source of exploding brick and concrete next to you, an unseen force sent you flying across the pavement and out onto the road. Thankfully traffic immediately came to a halt once onlookers realized the situation, effectively preventing you from being run over. But that did little to console you as painfully, you comprehended your now significantly injured state.

Giving your body a once over, it was clear that the force that threw you away from the building was from the blast of air pressure likely due to an explosion. The damages weren’t too severe, but you were still now sporting a throbbing headache, and what appeared to be a sprained ankle. Aside from that, only developing bruises remained as evidence of the violent event as far as you could tell in your shock induced state.

Understanding you had to get yourself away from the violent, still ongoing conflict, you feebly attempted to stand up. It was a good effort, and if it weren’t for the head injury that was proving to be much more serious, you most likely would’ve been able to get away.

But luck was never on your side to begin with, and only a few seconds went by before black spots appeared in front of your vision. A moment later and you were out cold.

_____

A hospital room was what you expected, what anyone would expect after being nearly blown to pieces.

Pulling yourself out of unconsciousness to assess exactly where you were was a trying task, but the fear growing in the pit of your stomach served as more than enough motivation.

You remembered being downtown. An explosion. Pain. Then darkness. Taking in your surroundings, you identified the room to be that which you sat through examination after examination in the yakuza’s base.

But Kai was nowhere to be seen, and that only made the feeling of distress worse.

You had no idea how you got there, figuring the likely outcome would be you in the care of an actual doctor. Except that wasn’t the case, and instead you were laying on a bed, wearing clothing that you did not have on before blacking out.

It appeared to be a fairly loose but comfortable sleeveless knee length dress, with a long sleeve sweater overtop of it, both shaded with a pale light blue. In the midst of examining your new outfit, your eyes laid upon a heart monitoring device lightly clipped to your index finger.

Amidst the sudden realization of your current predicament, you failed to notice the steady increase in your heartbeat. But Kai hadn’t.

At that moment one of the two doors of the room, the other attached to a bathroom, swiftly opened. Chisaki stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly evaluating your now awakened form for a moment before entering, closing the door behind him.

You questioned him before he even had the chance to come near you. “What the hell am I doing here? Why aren’t I in a hospital?” He approached you as you spoke, taking a seat on a wheeled stool next to your bed.

Unfortunately you couldn’t control the shaking in your voice, and it served as a clear indication to the man at just how uneasy you’d grown with the situation.

“My subordinate alerted me of the attack after he found you unconscious. You were brought back here amidst the fighting so I could tend to your injuries, which fortunately are not life threatening.” He spoke in a calm and consistent tone, pausing momentarily before continuing. “There was no need to bring you to a hospital when I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Not life threatening? You looked over your body, assessing the damage for yourself. It appeared that you had injured your ankle, as it was now wrapped in some form of brace. Along with that were bandages woven around your knees, and more that you could feel constricting your upper arms where you landed on. Lastly was the dull pain in the back of your head, bringing you back to the moments before blacking out when you experienced a similar sensation.

“I think I should still go see a professional, no offense of course. It’s just I’d feel more comfortable with an expert opinion on the whole thing.” You truly didn’t want to set him off, not after what happened the last time you went against his advice. However, this was not something you could just take lying down, despite the fact that you were literally lying down in bed at the moment.

“I’m going to have to insist that you remain here, it’s the best option for your recovery which may I remind you has not been completed as of yet, and will only be delayed due to this. Not to mention that in your state excessive movement to bring you to a hospital would not only be quite difficult to manage but further damaging to your body as well.”

If it weren’t for the unsettling, stone cold stare he was giving you as he spoke, you would’ve likely retorted with a defense. Yet under that gaze you felt it was impossible to remain strong willed. You’d let him have his way for now, there being only so much time remaining in which his care was necessary.

With that you agreed to his concerns, and perhaps if he wasn’t wearing that obnoxiously large mask you would’ve seen the smirk of satisfaction appear across his face.

_____

Later that day Kai returned with your dinner, a task he normally left for his subordinates to complete. He set down the tray atop the sliding overbed table, a clipboard in his other hand. Sitting down on the rolling stool next to your bed, he began talking, you listening in silence as you ate.

“I hope you don’t mind but I took a blood sample while you were asleep in case your injuries were more severe than outwardly observable.” He flipped through a few pages on the clipboard before continuing. “It would seem that the supplements are steadily improving your overall condition. It’ll still take some time for certain levels to reach a normal amount for someone of your physique, but this is still good news nonetheless.”

You hummed in response, not wanting to be rude by talking with your mouth full. Chisaki moved to place the clipboard on the counter to your left before facing you again.

“I’m sure by now you’ve taken note of the change in your attire from that prior to being injured.”

You stopped chewing, looking worriedly in his direction. You hadn’t forgotten about this reality, it was more like you chose to ignore it for the time being, hoping nothing would come of it between the two of you.

“You should know that I had one of my female underlings do this for me, the fact of the matter being your clothing was partially destroyed from the explosion and was therefore prohibiting necessary medical attention.”

The pulsing of your heartbeat quickened, having an idea of where this conversation was headed, much to your apprehension. You stared down at the meal in front of you to avoid eye contact at all costs.

“I was able to properly tend to your wounds, but I’m sure you understand when I say that I couldn’t help but notice certain… remnants. Those of past trauma, along with others I didn’t directly observe, those that my subordinate notified me of.”

It was obvious that to access the bruises and cuts sustained from being thrown across the pavement, Chisaki would inevitably see parts of your body that you were all too familiar with just a few years ago.

Things had gotten better since then, they really had. You would never even think about using those same coping methods anymore. But that didn’t change the fact that those memories weren’t something that could just fade overnight, nor would the physical damage they left behind.

It was the last thing you wanted to discuss with Kai right now. He already knew, albeit vaguely, that you used to struggle with your mental health. Not that you weren’t still struggling, it was just now you had healthier ways of handling it. The only thing you could do now was deter him from pressing you further on the matter.

“Listen Kai, I know what you’re referring to, and I understand why you’d be concerned. It’s just… you don’t need to bother with it. I’m better now, at least in that regard. I get that you want to help me, and you have, but this isn’t something you need to worry about. I’ve already taken care of it, I promise.”

Glancing up at him after finishing, you saw more emotion than you’d ever thought someone like himself would be capable of. Although to most it would be insignificant, his intense stare coupled with the furrowed eyebrows, looking as if he truly wanted to comfort you in that moment was reassuring.

He exhaled loudly before responding. “That’s fine, (y/n).” You watched as he removed those white gloves that he seemed to wear like a second skin, placing them on the counter. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you during that time. Someone like you should have never been subjected to such treatment, and if I had known you back then I would’ve made sure such an occurrence never took place to begin with.”

Now this was… jarringly out of character.

If there was ever a red flag that you missed before, the ensuing events would surely be enough to make it blatantly obvious what exactly was going on.

Wide-eyed and dinner long forgotten, you followed the movement of his hands as they went to gently hold that of your left.

The yakuza waited for what felt like an eternity before carrying on, doing what you could only assume was anticipating the disgust of coming into contact in such a way with you, absent of his constant protective articles.

But the aversion never came.

“All I can do now is ensure you’re never dealt the same treatment again.”

Another moment of silence, stillness.

He gave your hand a small squeeze before releasing his hold, standing up and retrieving his gloves. You were too dumbfounded by the events that just unfolded to respond, so you continued to sit in silence while Kai gathered his belongings.

“Finish your dinner, Kurono will come later and turn off the heart monitor for you to get ready for bed.” He finished pulling on the gloves, picking up the clipboard once he was done and headed towards the only exit of the room.

“You’ll be remaining in this room while your injuries heal. I’ll keep one of my men posted outside if you need anything.” Kai placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing before looking back in your direction.

“Also, you should know that an alarm will go off if you remove the heart monitoring clip on your finger. There’s a button on the side of the bed you can press if you need assistance turning the machine off, say if you need to get up. Otherwise please leave it as it is.”

At that moment he left the examination room, the door closing with a heavy metallic thud that reverberated off the walls.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was subtle, almost overshadowed by the persisting hunger from abandoning your dinner. But you knew it well to be fear.

A fear that you only suspected would grow the longer you remained in the confines of Chisaki’s compound, the confines of his so-called ‘care.’

(End of Part 1)

#yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere overhaul #yandere bnha x reader #yandere overhaul x reader #yandere mha x reader #yandere chisaki kai #yandere chisaki kai x reader #tw self harm

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dogtorj · 3 years

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My blog starts with a good day!

I don’t think it’s a surprise to people that the veterinary profession is full of ups and downs. We start (luckily!) with an up kind of day. At least I left work with a smile.

My morning begins as an easier one. I am on a shift that means I am effectively an extra hand. My responsibility is prescriptions, and I can be taken away from this to put a cannula in, take some blood for a blood test, or be a “bum-stop” (to sit behind/scratch a patients bum while other things happen to them, as a distraction and minor restraint). The dogs I need to do this with are easily distracted with a high-pitched tone of voice and a bum scratch; and the morning goes without a hitch. I call a couple of clients to confirm their prescription requests / let them know they will need a prescription review soon as we haven’t seen their pets in a while; and then at 10:30am, it’s time to start consults.

Most of my consults this morning are for vaccinations. Routine, not presenting for a problem, more an opportunity for pets to have a positive interaction with us rather than be scared; and to catch up with the owners too (so important to so many of us in the current pandemic!). One of these patients happens to be a patient I operated on 10 months ago, for being kicked in the head by a horse, leaving a 1-inch-diameter hole in her skull. It’s awesome to see her doing so well, I have to admit I didn’t even recognise her at this stage, as a full-grown adult with all the fur having grown back on her head. I also see a very charming and well-behaved bulldog, called Angus, whose complicated eye ulcer has healed just a week after me debriding it with a diamond burr. I was able to do this without sedation as he sits so still. He gets 3 treats, and I feel pretty chuffed with myself.

Afternoon consults. More booster vaccinations. We are behind with COVID-19 lockdown having halted us a fair bit, and people having been pushed back a few months, so we have some catching up to do. A couple of them are nervous and require muzzling, but we manage to keep them calm in the consult room, and I don’t hear so much as a growl. I must be giving off calm vibes today!

In my afternoon consults, I come across a cat with constipation. He has been trying his hardest to go to the toilet today but to no avail. He is elderly and is already on laxatives to help this problem. I’m concerned that he now has a brain tumour. His owner reports following questioning, that he does tend to walk round in circles, and to me he doesn’t seem as ‘awake’ as his normal self would. He’s a little wobbly on all 4 legs, but gets around ok. I speak to the owner about my concerns. This is a difficult thing to prove. This would require an MRI but he is 18 years old and on discussion we’re not wanting to send him away to a specialist for an anaesthetic to do this. We choose to help with his constipation. I keep him in one of our ‘cat pods’ for the afternoon and give him a suppository to help the muscle contractions required to pass the firm poop I can feel in his abdomen. He requires a little ‘manual’ assistance - but he appears visibly brighter and happier afterwards. He goes home, owner aware of my worry with him longer-term.

Between consulting blocks, I get handed some flowers, a box of chocolates, and a card. In the card are some heartfelt words from a client I have seen for the last 2 years, as long as I’ve been in this particular job. She thanks me for looking after their dear old mini dachsund. I had diagnosed him with congestive heart failure way back when he was already in his teenage years’ and we had managed it since. Every recheck he’d happily plodded his way in to the consult room to see me, and every recheck we’d check in with each other and talk about making the end of his life as good and comfortable as possible. And he just kept going, kept being happy. He had been put to sleep by one of my colleagues while I was away, and yet the owner had felt the need to thank me personally for all we’d done in the last almost two years. A flash of regret waves over me that I hadn’t been there to say goodbye, but I also know that the time would have been right. It doesn’t happen to me often, but I do hold back some tears as I prepare for evening consults.

Evening consults. These are fairly routine. A limping dog I think will get better with some rest. An ear infection that is likely due to an underlying allergy (we discuss how to get this under control and also how to keep it that way). I see one of my surgeries back from 2 weeks ago. This was a removal of a very large lump. The removal left a very big hole (skin really stretches and pulls apart when you cut it). I used suturing techniques that would take some of the tension off the wound, and it so happens that its worked brilliantly. I’m chuffed. This particular dogs’ nipples now sit more on his side than on his underside, but I don’t think it bothers him too much! He’s super happy to see me, and he no longer needs to wear the toddler hoodie he’s had to wear for the last 2 weeks to protect the stitches that I remove.

All in all, I’ve left the day feeling brilliant. I have a bunch of tulips in my hand, and I know I’ve done good. Not every day is like this, not at all. But it’s days like this that make me realise I’m truly in the profession I’m meant to be in and that I’m fairly good at it!

#vet #veterinarian #veterinary medicine #dayinthelife #blog #vetblog #veterinary

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aphrodites-law · 5 years

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A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (3/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction.

[part 1] [part 2]

A week after parting ways with Niylah, a sudden sense of loneliness hit Clarke. It wasn’t that she regretted the decision, but the possibility had always been there and that in itself had been enough to avoid confronting the glaring emptiness of her apartment. Her celibacy had felt more like a choice than it did now.

Clarke knew that the vision was the main culprit for the sudden realization that she had built her dream life but had no one to share it with. Wells had Raven and his passion for theater keeping his life beautifully busy outside of the café, while Gaia had the next five years mapped out thoroughly - her own dreams soon to be achieved. They didn’t have time or space left to fill, and Clarke had fooled herself into believing the same applied to her. She had menus to think of; new coffee beans and bakes to taste test; ingredients to purchase. She had events to plan; social media accounts to update; phone calls to answer. It was a headache most of the time, but she had a long list of successes to be proud of.

It wasn’t easy to admit that she’d neglected a part of her life - that she’d never had anyone to come home to in years. Sometimes, she couldn’t even be sure she’d ever felt a fraction of what Wells felt for Raven - if she’d ever gazed at anyone with such adoration. It would happen eventually, she’d always thought. She had time for that. But the truth was that the future had already come, and Clarke was alone. Alone and no closer to understanding a vision that she wasn’t even sure she could trust anymore.

It was a gloomy thought for a gloomy evening. Clarke enjoyed her plate of homemade ravioli nonetheless, a Saturday treat for an otherwise dull week. She had expected it with so many logistics to deal with before the café’s upcoming 3-day event, but it didn’t help that time had seemed to slow to a crawl. It was pointless to deny the source of her disappointment though:

Lexa hadn’t showed. Not even once for a croissant or an early morning espresso. Clarke had secretly hoped she would, unable to stop thinking about their brief encounter at the party. Something had changed and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Lexa knew it too. Which only made her absence more nerve-racking. Clarke had taken to reading the Gazette again, scrolling down the app mindlessly during breaks. She'd caught Lexa's name a few days ago and read her most recent articles, unable to stop herself once she'd given into her curiosity.

Her most engrossing story had been a special report on the Mountain Men, a group of people who had lived in isolation in the Costial mountain chain for a hundred years. They were a very particular case - their bloodline seemingly passing down a deathly allergy to the sun, or solar urticaria. Yet they had chosen to live in isolation rather than accept any aid, building their own bunker in the 1900s, a complex network of rooms and tunnels. It was only ten years ago that the last of them had finally emerged from underground, pale and weak creatures but otherwise strong willed. In her story, Lexa was remarkably descriptive yet respectful of their privacy. They lived on the outskirts of Costial now, helped by modern medicine and custom-made protective clothing, though never quite able to stand the sun regardless. Lexa had written that she'd met with them at night, and had been surprised when next she knew the sun had risen and they'd spoken for hours. The Mountain Men were neither a cult nor a mystery to solve - they were human beings who craved human contact like anyone else, only dealt with a different set of circumstances at birth.

Reading her words had given Clarke more insight into Lexa's work, but hardly anything on her as a person. And Clarke couldn't help but crave more of her.

The hope for some clarity came on Sunday morning. Clarke went to the farmer’s market for fresh ingredients and a bag of quince, planning to tempt Wells into using them. He was the only person she knew that was so fond of quinces he could be bribed with them, though it could be an acquired taste.

The farmers’ market was always busy; the sort of organized chaos that Clarke lived for. She stopped at her usual stands - first the vegetables and fruit, and later the meats and cheeses. Her bags were nearly bursting when she decided to leave, having been tempted by olives and a few sachets of spices at a new stand. It seemed like a couple had cropped up in the past three weeks. Sundays were never a rush, and there was still time to head back home before the café.

Clarke stopped short when she looked toward a honey stand and noticed Lexa chatting with the vendor. She had a dark brown jacket on and a long knitted scarf wrapped twice around her neck, the only sign that she might be bothered by the chilly morning. Colder winds were starting to sweep through Costial, but Clarke didn’t mind how quickly winter was approaching. It had always been her favorite season - and it was good for business too.

With the busy activity, Clarke knew that she couldn’t stand still in the middle of the alley. On impulse, she walked toward the stand.

“Lexa. Hi.”

Lexa turned to her, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Busy market today,” Clarke said, trying to appear more casual than she felt.

Lexa looked between her and the man behind the stall. “It is. Hm. Clarke, this is Gustus. His bees make the best honey in the state.”

Gustus laughed heartily. “Flattery won’t get you a third pot.” He spoke with an accent Clarke couldn’t place, but his tone was strangely comforting.

Lexa’s ears seemed to pink, though it might’ve been from the cold.

“I’m just trying to help your business,” she countered.

“Sure, sure.”

Lexa glanced at Clarke. “Gustus was stubbornly staying on his apiary with a cardboard sign a few miles away. I convinced him to apply for a stall here.”

“A whole five feet of space,” Gustus grumbled half-jokingly.

Clarke smiled. “I know the struggle. They turned down my business partner and I a few years back.”

“What were you selling?” Gustus asked.

“Well that was the problem - nothing consistent. We wanted to do sweet and salty bakes, but we don’t grow any of the ingredients ourselves. They didn’t like that - said we ought to just open a bake shop. It worked out pretty well in the end.”

Lexa nodded, but her eyes stayed on Gustus and the stall. “Clarke owns a coffee shop,” she clarified for him. “It’s very good.”

Gustus’ expression shifted from a frown to amusement. “Very good? From you, that is high praise.”

Clarke didn’t have the time to question the statement. Lexa shouldered her full bag with a glare at him. Clarke realized then that Lexa had yet to fully look her way, let alone address her directly.

“My baker loves honey cakes,” Clarke brought up, trying not to worry. She hadn’t done anything to warrant a cold shoulder... had she? “I’ve been trying to get him to switch from his usual brand - and honestly it would be much easier for me than trekking to the East bank.”

Gustus brightened and wrapped a pot in newspaper. “Try it. See if he likes it.”

Clarke took out her wallet, but he declined.

Lexa scowled. “That’s not how you turn a profit, Gus.”

He scratched his long beard. “But it is how you cultivate interest and loyalty.”

When a couple arrived at the stall, Clarke moved to the side and Gus excused himself to answer their questions. Now stood much closer to Lexa, Clarke felt the need to fill the silence.

“How was your week?” She asked.

Lexa’s whole body seemed to tense. “Busy. Yours?”

“Long.” She bit her lip. “I read your piece on the Mountain Men. Crazy story.”

Lexa finally looked at her, as if suddenly jolted. “You did?” She sounded surprised, but there was a spark in her eyes.

Clarke nodded. “I’d heard about them obviously, but I’d never realized some of the family still lived near Costial.”

“They keep to themselves.”

“But you got them to open up.”

“It’s my profession. Besides, I’ve found that few people can actually stand to die with their secrets. Eventually we yearn to be heard.”

Clarke’s heart raced under Lexa’s gaze. There didn’t seem to be an in-between with her - she either didn’t look her way at all or stared at her like she might undress her. Though Clarke was aware her reading of Lexa’s expressions was likely very skewed.

“I don’t believe that,” she replied. “We all have stories we’d be happy to bury forever.”

“Maybe I'm just too boring a person to have any," Lexa said quietly. She didn't expand on it and Clarke suddenly felt like she couldn't hold her stare any longer.

“I should get going,” she said.

“Did you drive here?”

“I did.”

“I’m that way too.”

“Oh okay,” Clarke replied, though Lexa had already started walking after a quick wave at Gustus.

Clarke fell into step beside her. “I’ve never seen you at the market before,” she said.

Lexa shook her head. “I usually just come in the last thirty minutes.”

“When they’re more amenable to haggling - smart.”

Clarke swore she saw the ghost of a smile on Lexa’s face, but she was well-aware she couldn't just keep staring at her profile for much longer. She glanced at the top of her bag. “Margie’s brie is really good.”

Lexa let out a little hum of agreement. "Her blue cheese is even better.”

As they passed the parking lot, Clarke threw caution to the wind. She had to at least try to understand the walking enigma by her side.

"So... last year we had an open mic weekend to drum up some publicity for the café. Friday to Sunday. We’re doing it again next week."

"Starting a tradition?" Lexa asked.

"Hoping to. People can sign up in person or through our website and perform some original stuff. We've already got a decent list.”

"That's a great idea."

Clarke tried not to think too much about her erratic heart. "It should be a fun time if you wanted to drop by; get inspired…"

Clarke herself had gotten an itch to be creative after last year's event. Being surrounded by aspiring musicians and comedians had reminded her just how much she needed her own art as an outlet for stress. She'd put her drawings to the side for the café but picking up a pencil again had felt like coming home. She figured Lexa, who had seemed quite comfortable surrounded by comedians the night of the play, might feel the same way about such a setting.

But her reaction was odd. She stopped with her brow furrowed. "Inspired?" She asked.

"To write?"

Lexa’s body immediately stiffened, almost like she was upset. "I see. I'll try to find the time."

"Great," Clarke said in relief, choosing not to worry too much about her interpretation of Lexa’s reaction. It was clear by now she couldn’t read her very well. "I'll put a slice of cake on the side for you."

Lexa shook her head. "You don't need to bribe me, Clarke.”

Clarke frowned. "I wa-"

Lexa looked at her watch. "I should get going. I'm interviewing someone in an hour."

"Have you found any patterns yet?" Clarke couldn't help but wonder, though the question was also a poor attempt to speak to Lexa longer.

Lexa glanced up at her, her eyes lighter than Clarke remembered in the glow of the morning sun. Yet it reminded Clarke of the party too - how close Lexa had been, when now it suddenly seemed like she couldn’t wait to get away.

"I guess you'll have to read the article."

And with that, Lexa was walking to her car, leaving Clarke with the distinct feeling that she wasn’t any closer to understanding her.

* * *

With the ongoing preparations over the week, Clarke barely had a second to herself. Her interaction with Niylah on Monday morning had gone well though, awkward for just a few minutes before Niylah had cracked a terrible joke about starting a band called the Rolling Scones for the open mic.

The makeshift stage arrived in two pieces early Wednesday, and with Wells, Gaia and Harper's help, Clarke was proud to say it didn't look too shabby - and definitely a step-up from last year's. Raven had come around to help them with the sound setup, a task she had essentially summed up as 'nobody touch my cables or I'll electrocute you.' And far be it from Clarke to question a professional sound engineer.

Around 5pm, with a tired back and sore arms, Clarke had again drifted toward the end of the counter and started drawing. It was a character this time - a scraggly woman atop a mountain staring out at the horizon. She'd started it after reading Lexa's article, wondering how one could stand to live hidden in the dark for so long, and what they might've felt after leaving the comfort of what they knew for complete uncertainty.

She glanced up toward Lexa's spot, trying not to think about her. It was such a strange shift - from being a regular customer to not stopping by once in two weeks.

"Hello."

Clarke dropped her pencil and walked back to the other side of the counter, smiling at the young man standing behind it.

"Hi, what can I get you?"

"Are you Clarke? I mean- the owner?" He asked with a slightly nervous stammer.

"Co-owner, yep."

He extended his hand. "I'm Aden Baltimore. For the Polis Gazette."

His handshake was limp, but Clarke could tell he barely even knew what to do with his body. His checkered shirt was too loose and his tie too long, like he had ransacked his father's closet. His dirty blond hair was neatly combed and he smelled strongly of cologne. Clarke guessed he was eighteen at most.

"What can I do for you, Aden?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I'm here for the article? Lexa said that late afternoon was a good time."

He dug into his messenger bag, trying to find something. It looked very similar to Lexa's satchel and Clarke wondered if he was a protégé and maybe very eager to resemble his mentor.

"Here's my ID," he added, showing Clarke his Gazette badge. It was endearing, to say the least, but Clarke wasn't sure what to do with it.

"What article are you talking about?"

"To boost the mic event. Didn't you set it up with her?"

Clarke’s smile fell.

A puff piece. Lexa had sent a teenager to write a puff piece on the café. Clarke wasn't sure what was more embarrassing: that Lexa had assumed her invitation had been a request to advertize the open mic, or that she'd sent someone else to do it. It hadn’t even crossed Clarke's mind. Was that what Lexa had thought of their interaction? That it had been a means to an end?

"It'll go up tomorrow morning in This Week In Costial," Aden said, then looked around anxiously. "Did I mess up? It starts Friday, doesn't it?"

"Yes, absolutely, it does," Clarke assured him as she shook off the lingering feeling of vexation.

Aden relaxed. "Can we sit down for a few minutes? I just want to make sure my notes are legible."

Clarke glanced at Wells and Gaia in the kitchen, both laughing about something. She didn't feel much like laughing herself. But the sooner she gave Aden what he needed, the sooner she could occupy her mind with something else.

"Sure. Let's do it."

They sat at one of the center tables. Aden took out his phone, a notepad, and three different pens.

"How long have you been at the Gazette?" Clarke asked him curiously.

Aden tried the first pen on the notepad but discarded it when the ink barely came out. "I just started a few months ago. This is my first time reporting," he admitted bashfully. "I'm taking a gap year before college and wanted some real experience."

“That’s smart. How do you like it so far?”

“I love it,” he gushed, looking more like a boy at Christmas than a teen fresh out of high school. "It’s so much easier to learn through practice.”

Clarke nodded. “So you’ll be writing the piece?”

“I’ll structure the notes and work with Lexa on it. She has to approve everything I do."

"Hm. Do you like working with her?"

"Lexa's great," he said, coming out of his shell the more confident he was in the topic. Clarke couldn’t fault him for his awkwardness - everyone had to start somewhere. "We were both new at the Gazette around the same time, so she says we need to stick up for each other. I like that. Lexa doesn't care about rank, just what a person can bring to the table."

Clarke had stopped counting the ways Lexa surprised her. But in the last few weeks she had learned that the reserved, serious woman who sat in her café was one hell of a poker player, related to the owners of the Polis Hotel, and revered by a teenager. Not to mention, in all likelihood, a particularly intense lover. Clearly, Clarke still knew nothing about Lexa Woods, and it seemed like that was precisely Lexa's doing.

It stung. Clarke understood that she was only a café owner, barely a blip in Lexa's routine, if at all these days, but it was Lexa who had initiated their first conversation. Clarke had hoped it meant a step closer to being friendly. She had thought maybe Lexa just naturally kept to herself, but it seemed like everyone and their mother - quite literally, in Gaia's case - knew a side of her that Clarke wasn't privy to.

"So, what can we expect from the open mic?" Aden finally asked, forcing Clarke to sweep away any other thought.

* * *

The article was short and sweet, though one of the longer ones in the entire section that spanned three pages. Clarke had to admit the publicity wouldn't hurt, and it didn't hurt either when the Gazette also tweeted about it.

What did hurt, early on Friday, was Wells coming into the café with a grimace.

"What's up?" Clarke asked him, barely awake. Today would be a long day, but they were ready for whatever may come. Or so Clarke believed.

Wells took out a folded flyer from his pocket and slid it on the counter. "You're not going to like this."

Clarke opened the flyer, her heart dropping in her stomach when she read it: FINN'S COFFEE & BAGELS OPEN MIC EVENT. FRIDAY TO SUNDAY, 10AM TO 6PM. 50% OFF EVERY PURCHASE.

Clarke gritted her teeth. "I'm going to murder him."

Wells cringed. "I guess now's not the time to add he finalized his deal with Titus & Son to sell his bagels?"

Clarke crumpled the flyer in her hands. "No, Wells, now is not the best time."

Feeling a blind rage course through her, Clarke grabbed her coat and went out the back of the café, passing a baffled Gaia.

She walked down the street with a fury in her eyes, fully intending on finding Finn Collins wherever he might be hiding. She’d wait him out at his house if she fucking needed to. But his shop down the street was a good start - his hideous coffee shop with the large letters of his name on every available surface, even the plastic forks.

When she opened the door, it was with the force of her anger. When she walked inside, it was with clenched fists. She scanned the moderately crowded area for a pretentious suit and a cocky grin, knowing he had to be expecting her. That bastard had made sure she'd only learn about his copycat event at the last possible minute, but she’d speak her mind. Oh he was going to hear her.

Or he would have.

Clarke's resolve crumpled when she spotted the last person she'd expected to see. It felt like whiplash. There, sitting at a corner table, typing away, was Lexa. Clarke had to blink a few times to believe her own eyes, but there was no mistaking her. Whatever momentum she'd gained screeched to a halt.

And when their eyes met, when Lexa finally spotted her and stilled, equally surprised to see Clarke, it felt like time slowed. Clarke couldn't even explain why it hurt so badly to see her there, just that it did. Because of course. Of course Lexa would take her habit elsewhere. Of course she would go to the chain hell-bent on driving Clarke's business into the ground.

She hadn’t been sure what to make of Lexa's disappearance; if she was just too busy, cutting down on caffeine, or perhaps trying to save up on cash for the holidays coming up. It wasn't any of Clarke's business to know. But seeing her in Finn's shop, on the same street, typing away like she always did, drinking some green monstrosity… rational thinking flew out the window. Lexa had the sense to look away at least, though her hands didn’t move on the keyboard anymore.

Clarke couldn’t even stand the sight of her, so deeply embarrassed that she’d invited her to come over when all this time Lexa had already chosen a different establishment. Embarrassed that she'd hoped to see her at her usual spot again. Embarrassed that she even cared.

With the taste of bitter disappointment in her mouth, Clarke left without even bothering to find Finn. Her body felt numb, like the sight of Lexa had replaced her anger with ice. It felt personal and Clarke didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand how a person could seem to care one day and look away the next. Could it truly be because she had refused the interview? Was that the way Lexa did things? Stuck around for a story until she was sure there was nothing to be squeezed out? Clarke couldn’t think of another reason.

Whatever it was, she was done seeking Lexa out.

[part four]

#clexa #clarke x lexa #f: a bit of clarity #i had to cut this in two parts #the next one is a hot mess of angst let me tell you #w

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xlady-saya · 5 years

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I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 2]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

Andrew is a planner.

This is one thing he's not afraid to admit about himself; most events in his life have been unplanned, disastrous things which he can only try to wrangle in the moment they make themselves known. However, if he has the time and foresight, he's much more inclined to plot out every move, making sure there are no slip-ups. Minimal error.

Thinking about and minimizing the damage to himself is new, since beforehand he wouldn't bother to care. In this case, his own reactions are things he'll have to deal with in the moment, since his limit here is unknown. He's never done this with anyone.

For now, his sole focus becomes Neil.

Of course, he knows with something like this it's impossible to get it perfect. He's more experienced than Neil, despite the fact he's never been intimate with someone on his own terms; he knows how it works, knows what to expect and all the ways it can go wrong.

He knows it most likely will be uncomfortable the first time, but can he make the good outweigh that?

At the thought, Andrew grumbles to himself, shaking his head over his cup of coffee. It's been a few weeks since that initial conversation, and his head has been a balancing act of sexual tension and precaution. He's planning as if he's made up his mind, though it's the farthest thing from the truth.

But, necessary. He needs to treat this like it's real, or it'll never sink in.

And well, the sexual part of it feels very real. His overactive mind has made sure to spin the fantasy at him almost daily, and he's been powerless against it. The thought of Neil splayed out in front of him is not something he'll ever be adverse to. Lately, Andrew's libido has spiked, doubling from what is normal. If Neil knows the reason, he hasn't chosen to comment on it, and just seems happy to satisfy Andrew in whatever way he can.

A curl of warmth unfurls in his chest, and he slides his gaze over to where Neil sits on the floor, legs kicked up as he runs through his calculus homework. The gym shorts he has on slip a little, revealing odd patterns of discoloration. Andrew can only assume they're burns.

He's real, so painfully real Andrew feels the need to shield him from a threat that's not even there. Neil isn't scared of him, Andrew isn't scared of Neil. For all their hostility, they fit.

They prepare for the worst, gentleness often escapes them, and they've never minded each other's harshness.

Even still...

Silently, he pours Neil a cup of coffee into the god awful fox mug Nicky made him at Color Me Mine, the eyes sagging and crossed, and sets it beside him on the floor.

Neil’s head tilts up just enough to smile sleepily at him, and Andrew's insides twist painfully. Harshly, he pushes Neil's head down, back to his homework, and tries not to let the soft laugh cloud his thoughts anymore.

For all his severity, none of which Andrew is ashamed of, he finds himself itching to give Neil the opposite. And he does, when he thinks about it. Andrew tries his best not to roll his eyes; Neil ends up being right at the most annoying times.

Andrew wouldn't mean to hurt him, it's true. Andrew would never willingly hurt Neil these days, he simply doesn't have the capability. But intention is seldom enough for him. He'll do this right; it's the reason he's set up a plan in the first place.

Yet, plans are hard to keep together. Steps should be easy to follow, checked off.

1. Talk to Bee

2. Talk to Roland

3. Do his own research

Simple, direct; that's what Andrew thought when he put the plan into action. Bee would be able to reveal the things Andrew could not yet see, pick his brain until the maze had a map. Roland would have experience with this, he'd be able to tell Andrew what it's like when it's consensual, the do's and don'ts. From then on, Andrew should've been able to piece the puzzle together and fill in the gaps with cold, hard information. There's only so much he can do to prepare, but he'll cover all his bases.

The plan was supposed to do all that, but hiccups forever plagued Andrew's life. Bee's words were weights, necessary, still sitting with him even now. And Roland, well, that had almost gone well.

At the memory, Andrew glares. The night before, he'd gone to talk with Roland alone, no stress or obligation to keep an eye on his family while he tried to sort this out. He told Neil, wrapped around him in bed, because it's not something he felt ashamed sharing. The reasoning was another story.

And Neil, stupid, understanding Neil, hadn't even questioned it, blindly trusting Andrew to tell him later. It would be agonizing, but Andrew would do it.

Keeping things from Neil nowadays is almost like an allergy, irritating.

It should've been uneventful. At most, he expected Roland to be obnoxious about it, which he was...

"Ohoho, it's about time indeed," the bartender crowed above the loud music of the club, spilled alcohol sticking to Andrew's boot soles. He grit his teeth. Andrew tried his best not to give too much away when he asked Roland to follow him to the backrooms, but Roland's shocked face when he brought it up forced Andrew’s hand.

It wasn't like that, it wouldn't ever be like that again and Roland knew it, was probably worried something had happened with Neil to make Andrew seek out something physical.

So naturally, Andrew told him the gist of his situation, his intentions to go all the way with Neil, and Roland had run away with it in triumph. The bartender's smirk made Andrew want to turn around and walk right out of there immediately. As if sensing Andrew's need to retreat, Roland leaned closer into his personal space, never a fast learner.

Andrew doesn't know what he ever saw in him.

"Shut up and let's go," Andrew growled in the small space between them, and Roland laughed at his expense without care. Andrew had to remind himself Roland was his only direct resource, unless he wanted to ask Nicky, which he would never do.

Whatever, Andrew would not have this conversation in public.

"Alright, alright lover boy," Roland sighed, raising his hands with a wink. Andrew employed Neil's tactic for a moment, counting to ten in German. "I'm just happy for you. C'mon."

Andrew didn't bother to respond to that.

The relief that took root in Andrew's chest was short lived, so short lived he didn't even have to shove it down himself. He pushed off the counter to follow Roland through the throngs of drunk college students, the itch in his head gearing towards the information he was about to be given, when he saw her.

The one and only, Ms. I doodle my last name as Minyard in my notebooks--Katelyn.

Andrew froze; and saw the exact moment she knew she'd been caught. She was midstep, legs locked in an awkward position, but she didn't seem to be aware. It would've been satisfying, seeing Aaron's cheerleader so thrown off if it weren't for the look on her face. Andrew could see the assumptions swimming there before the idiot was probably even aware of them, her eyes, so close in color to Neil's but not the same at all, glancing between him and Roland.

For a brief moment, cruelty sparked in Andrew's veins at being read in such a way; it was foreign, this particular anger. He never cared before what people thought of him, least of all Aaron's perfect girlfriend. Andrew knew people thought he was a monster, it never mattered, because Neil didn't.

Yet, the whole reason he was there at all was to avoid hurting Neil as much as possible, so the suspicion on Katelyn's face made him want to commit murder. He might've, but then the idiot rolled her ankle, preserving the progress he'd made with Aaron over the past year and a half.

He couldn't kill her, he couldn't leave her there either.

Aaron's words echoed in his skull; 'Our feelings are the same.'

So inconvenient, so annoying, but so impossible to avoid.

Andrew remembers glancing back at Roland, knowing they wouldn't be having that talk after all, not right then. He remembers his skin crawling as he hauled Katelyn into his car, her words setting him on edge but reminding him that some people still had the capacity to surprise him.

The word 'love' tossed into the mix of mayhem.

Katelyn had put a lot of unnecessary thoughts in his head, but Andrew came back from that night clear headed, not necessarily about the sex situation, but about how he had been handling it.

Guess she isn't totally useless.

Speaking of...

"Good morning!" Katelyn sing-songs into the living area, and Neil flinches from the abruptness. The old instinct to run is hard to bury, and Andrew watches reality settle in as his muscles go slack again. Andrew misses the peace already, but he's the one who left the door open for Aaron in the first place.

Katelyn waves at Neil sheepishly for having spooked him, hopping along on her better ankle to lean against the small counter. Andrew rolls his eyes internally from how Aaron hovers, always there in case Katelyn decides to do another swan dive to the floor.

There's a pause then, one which isn't usually there. Katelyn's eyes land on Andrew and stay there, which in itself is odd. Up until this point, their understanding has been clear. Normally, Katelyn would ignore him, keep her distance. She still does, staying out of his immediate bubble. Yet, this time she offers him a genuine smile, and Andrew hopes last night hasn't given her any ideas about how things are going to be from now on. "Hi Andrew."

Ah, but looks like it has. Great.

Despite the twitch this realization causes, Andrew only hesitates momentarily before he offers her a nod, and ignores the way his brother blanches. Katelyn, thankfully, doesn't treat it as more than what it is, and carries on with whatever breakfast concoction she has in mind. A cook, she is not, and Andrew has no intention of eating it.

He feels Neil's smug smile in the corner of his eye, and dutifully ignores it in favor of watching his brother move seamlessly around his girlfriend. They touch purposefully, and often, like a dance with added steps just for the sake of staying close.

Aaron's arm slides against Katelyn's lower back, and she bites her lip, a blush rising to the tops of her ears. It's not subtle, but it's also not something anyone would bat an eye at.

Why Andrew can see the difference, he isn't sure, but it's there. There's a clinginess between them, more than usual, a product of Aaron's protectiveness and something else.

Looks like after Matt and Dan had fallen asleep, someone else in that dorm had decided to get handsy.

Andrew stuffs down his disgust at the thought; he seldom agrees with Nicky, but thinking of Aaron having any kind of sex is abhorrent, worse when it's straight.

His brother makes it seem so simple though, doesn't he?

He and his twin spent so many years being on the opposite ends of everything that their recent developments make Andrew even more painfully aware of how they're different. They're learning to share things in common without so much teeth pulling, but Andrew knows this is one area Aaron could not understand.

Andrew isn't jealous or resentful, he's just not like Aaron in that way. He's sure his brother and Katelyn had sex soon after meeting, long before it turned into something he'd risk Andrew's wrath over. He's also sure it's not something that keeps Aaron up at night, or wracks him with guilt afterwards. Watching them interact now, post intimacy, makes that clear enough. Aaron wants her and he's happy to want her, there's nothing else to it. Aaron's own insecurities are a monster, that much he knows, but they're not always in line with Andrew's.

Aaron is not afraid to want, and he trusts himself not to hurt.

This observation, coupled with his conversation with Katelyn, leaves Andrew with little room to avoid the real reason for his plan.

Realistically, Andrew knows he's been setting up roadblocks intentionally. Talk to Bee, setback, another setback, step two, back to step one, and so forth. With this process, there's essentially no way for this to not be dragged out to hell and back.

Annoyingly, he hears Renee's voice in his head, "be patient with yourself," but that's not it at all. The steps are more than just precautionary measures or even speedbumps. No, he can't try to convince himself that he put them there to pace himself, to make sure it's what he really wants.

To want, to want, to want.

That's the thing. He knows what he wants, but part of him thought that with enough time, enough pause, he wouldn't anymore. Then, he could fall back on an old habit, push it away and pretend he doesn't care about the fallout.

He'd been giving his brain ample time to ruin this for him too. To remember that wanting is dangerous, disappointing, not worth the consideration or effort. That maybe, impossibly, if he gave himself room to fortify a new wall, he'd no longer crave Neil's everything. Then, hurting him wouldn't have to be a worry at all, because he simply wouldn't care.

But alas, he's caught himself at the end of his rope, and he should know better. He's known better since Baltimore. Because even now, his head buzzing with conflict, one fact stands out as sturdy as before.

He wants Neil. In every way, every part, all the ugly, spiked edges and harsh temper. Nothing has ever sounded better and he hates it. He hates to feel like this, but he won't try to stop.

Why?

"Andrew, what you feel is normal," Bee's saccharine voice trickles through his head, words from the last two sessions when she helped him piece through all this. Or, maybe he should say she gave him the reins. Bee knows him by now, knows Andrew prefers to do most of the work once pointed in the right direction, even if it's something he hates to admit.

What I feel is normal? Yes, yes, I know Bee.

Pleasure, joy, contentment. The lack of exposure to them all for so long means he doesn't know how to process them, according to Bee. In fact, the feelings become almost intolerable.

"As such, your instinct is to lash out at or banish these feelings. They're uncomfortable, maybe even upsetting for you."

He thinks of so many repeats of 'I hate you' and 'this is nothing.' Thing is, those weren't lies. He needed Neil to be nothing, even when he knew it was impossible. He'd crossed the line into dangerous territory again, and Neil had happily jogged over next to him.

Neil's the only one who's ever followed without question.

He means it though; he hates to want. He wonders if it's because it all feels too good to be true, that if he doesn't tell himself he hates it, he'll have to finally acknowledge how good it feels.

How Neil makes him feel.

He can't accept that, not yet. But he will take a different step forward.

Katelyn prattles on about her schedule for the week, and Andrew can't hold her ramblings against her in this case. Labs and practice will keep her and Aaron apart for most of the week; Andrew used to crave the alone time, now...

With the sounds of pots and pans joining the chorus of Katelyn's chatter, Andrew walks over to Neil with intent clear. Funny, how he expected this revelation to be a lot less anticlimactic. But here they are, on a Sunday morning, the smell of burnt toast wafting through the air.

Neil looks up when Andrew sits beside him, catching whatever must be on Andrew's face and tilting his head. He's not sure how Neil does it, doesn't think to ask. Neil won't stop anyways if Andrew tells him too.

Because...

"What you value is understanding."

Yes, this is something Andrew will not be rid of anytime soon, Neil Josten will not go away. The little thrill which runs through him at the thought is not something he'd ever think he'd feel this much again. It intensifies as the days go, and everyday he loses more of the energy to stop it.

He can feel Bee smiling that damn smile, all the way from here.

Andrew digs his thumb into Neil's already open palm, waiting for his sleepy grin, and gets rid of all the roadblocks.

I want this, he repeats, and holds Neil's gaze. I want you.

He fights back the automatic recoil, and notes how it's gotten easier to do so, to overshadow his need to pull away with his need to pull closer.

"Yes," he says, and for a moment Neil is so still Andrew wonders if Katelyn's laughter ate up the small word. From how Neil's eyes soften a second later, he knows they weren't. "I don't know when, but it's a yes."

Because they've always gotten through things in the past, together.

Neil's breath hitches, and his hand curls tight around Andrew's, the touch conveying more than words can. The world is still such a dark, unforgiving place, but on this Sunday morning their dorm room has a brightness to it. Andrew shrinks away from it, but is powerless to avoid it.

Andrew thinks it might solely come from Neil, but he's wrong.

"Breakfast," Aaron calls to the room with a sigh, all too carefree and happy with Katelyn next to him. Andrew briefly wonders if Aaron ever thought he'd get to that point, and it's something they share. Disbelief.

"Okay," Neil calls back, and it has a dreamy quality to it Andrew wants so badly to stamp out like a cigarette. He doesn't though, he can't. The word carries the smile on the striker's lips, and Neil buries his face in Andrew's sleeve, content to let their food get a little cold.

Without Andrew noticing, his fingers curl just as tight around Neil's too.

One thing Andrew cannot fathom about Neil sometimes is that there's no sense of pressure.

Andrew made up his mind about going all the way that very morning, over a week ago with Neil resting his head in his lap and eventually wriggling a little too purposefully to be cute anymore. Andrew nearly snapped at Aaron and Katelyn to get lost, but then Neil would've won.

Considering how cheeky Neil looked later on, Andrew's cock in his mouth, maybe he did.

And in the afterglow, there had been...peace.

Andrew's not sure what he expected; maybe Neil's impatience, a new layer of tension in their kisses, their touches, something saying go, go, go. The rush to dive in and get things over with before the thoughts tore him in two.

But there's not. There's nothing like that; no urgency in his head or a ticking clock telling him they need to do it before it's too late. Of course, he still thinks about it constantly, how could he not? He's only a man with an (admittedly) hot...boyfriend. A Neil. A very energetic and smart-mouthed Neil.

Closing his eyes, he can picture it, his memory a blessing for once with something from just the other day.

Andrew lets his hands follow the curve of Neil's ass, feeling the smooth skin, patches of it rough from road burn and other scarring. He digs his fingers into the one spot of Neil's lower back, swallowing Neil's gasp. Like a press of a button, Neil's back bends for him.

They're only making out, just kissing, and he's like this. Andrew is okay with just keeping things like this, it feels right.

"Andrew..." Neil moans, featherlight, so unlike his usual brashness. It makes Andrew's pulse spike, and he kisses back greedily, mind swimming. Neil wants him, he makes Neil feel good...

Neil makes him feel good.

"Quiet," Andrew scolds, muffled by the urgent press of Neil's lips. It's begrudgingly amusing, how stupid Neil is. He keeps going back in for another peck, one right after the other, provoking Andrew to just pin him and push his tongue into his mouth.

"Mm," Neil hums teasingly, and Andrew feels the glide of his fingernail along the column of his neck. Andrew can't help it, he gives Neil a grunt for that, the sensitivity overwhelming.

And Neil, so infuriating, smirks.

"You first," his junkie bites back, so predictable. He punctuates the taunt with a nip to Andrew's earlobe. Then it's cloudy, no, hazy, a dream.

Except Neil has proven time and time again he's the furthest thing from a dream; so real, so warm and solid. Andrew lets himself sink into the pleasure, and in these moments he doesn't realize he's falling, that he doesn't mind it.

"Andrew..."

Neil's voice is a fog Andrew has a hard time finding his way out of sometimes, and he leans his head back on the wall by his bed while the heat pools in his gut.

Oh yes, he thinks about this a lot, and he's too fixated on the feelings to put up a fight.

But it's not even just in these moments that he wants Neil, what once was so troubling is now simply reality...

He thinks of the redhead's sleep deprived yawns, long and drawn out enough to show the slope of his jaw. Anxious nibbling on the end of a pencil when he's focused on some stupid equation. Careful hands, patching up Andrew's bloody knuckles after sparring sessions. And not so careful hands, punching the first reporter to say something even remotely negative about Andrew outside the stadium.

Neil is so dangerous, in that Andrew wants all of him.

Yet, there's never an imperativeness to have all of him, to just lock them away for the weekend and see what all the fuss is about. No, he can savor different parts of Neil in innocent ways: the concerned touches, considerate glances, and wide grins...

And in filthy ways.

The slow stretch of his spine when he's doing warm ups, those yoga pants he wears on purpose around campus, the flick of a tongue against Andrew's biceps.

And still, neither of them feel the need to cross the line into new territory yet, not for lack of want, but for lack of good timing.

Point is, since the decision, he and Neil have done plenty of other things without the underlying question of taking it all the way. It leaves Andrew's stomach buzzing for different, non-anxious reasons. The absence of pressure, of force. It's as if now that everything is out in the open, Neil's presence is both a relaxant and a stimulant, and nothing they do together is bogged down by anything other than chasing the pleasure it brings them.

Even with Roland, when they were ready to experiment further, there was no point in waiting. No pacing. Andrew was typically ready to get it out of his system for the sake of his libido, never pushing himself too far but also not patient with himself either. He'd propose the next thing he wanted to try, made sure Roland's hands were out of the way, and acted accordingly. Quickly. Andrew did not savor.

Andrew would take what he needed from the sensations and that was that; his knees on the floor of Eden's, a heavy weight on his tongue. Roland was enthusiastic, reacting well to Andrew's touches as he got more experienced with time.

As for Andrew...

Sometimes he'd like it, sometimes not, and in those cases he'd put a stop to it and he and Roland would revert to whatever was quickest to get off. Efficient, enough for Andrew to feel the spike of control, to bring another man pleasure without putting himself at risk. Exerting power over someone, and having them like it.

It had all been controlled, because Andrew needed it to be. Many of those nights blur together now; he can remember them all, he does, but pulling those times to the forefront of his mind is not something he ever chose to do. It simply didn't affect him in that way, because Roland never got below Andrew's skin.

With Neil however…

Andrew can't help but imprint every gasp and arch into his brain to never be forgotten, to be spun into daydreams so vivid it's hard to keep still. In the mornings the thoughts drip into the front of his mind, Neil pressed close to him. Then when he's watching Neil run in the gym with strong legs, and it's like he feels Neil's legs tightening around him. When he's bored in class, the sounds of Neil's moans drown out the professor as the fantasies in Andrew's head take over.

With Neil it is pure, blinding pleasure. He savors more than he thinks he should, like there's a limited supply and he's going through an army's worth everyday.

Andrew prolongs sex with Neil as much as he can. He's never allowed himself to feel this with anyone. He couldn't. For once it's not just about gaining experience or getting off, it's all that with Neil and exploring all the ways to make him fall apart.

So, Andrew still blows him in the showers after practice and ruts against him in the backseat of the Maserati. And through it all, Neil doesn't wait or expect Andrew to bring up going all the way.

He just enjoys it, enjoys being with Andrew.

"I'm still convinced I dreamed you," he spits out later that night when they're making out on the floor. Making out is putting it innocently, since it's quickly progressing into Andrew grinding his hips into Neil's.

They haven't exactly had enough alone time for this, not for a few weeks, but Andrew tames his desperation for it as best he can. He can't be that vulnerable, and yet his hips are moving on their own accord.

With Kevin visiting Wymack and Nicky off studying, they're alone. They can take their time, and they don't hesitate to take advantage.

Andrew can no longer contain the caged animal.

Neil pauses briefly to look up at Andrew, sliding one of Andrew's hands under his shirt to touch him more. Andrew shivers at the silent request, thumbing at one his nipples while Neil tries to make words.

"D--Do you want me to be a hallucination?" Neil teases, and leans up to bite Andrew's bottom lip. Andrew pinches Neil's chest beneath his fingertips, logging away the breathy moan to recall later.

"No," Andrew snaps quickly, almost against his will, and Neil's grin is so annoyingly brilliant.

They both already knew the answer. He's not sure he could handle that at this point. Neil disappearing, like a ghost with only a compliment as a goodbye.

Not again.

As if to cement this fact, Andrew bucks forward, the friction dizzying. Again, it's been a little too long, and Andrew's movements betray it.

"Fuck Andrew," Neil says, reaching for Andrew's fly. It's already undone, his belt somewhere halfway across the room due to Neil's eager hands. Andrew had told him yes, and yet Neil's hand hovers just over Andrew's groin in a silent question. Andrew growls, leading Neil's hand under the waistband until it brushes the wet head of his cock, and they moan in sync this time.

"Andrew I want...fuck," Neil throws his head back, the frustration clear. Andrew can't help but feel the same; if he could make Neil fall apart in every way he would, but for now his body craves the friction, the desperation of his movements.

This is how he wants to get off, humping Neil into the floor.

"Use your words," Andrew breathes, swiping his thumb over Neil's lips. Neil's pink tongue flicks out, coaxing Andrew's fingers into his mouth and sucking.

Neil's eyes are so full of mischief, his response clear: sure about that?

Andrew gives a slow roll of his hips as Neil pumps him slow, pulling away when he senses Andrew's patience running thin. The striker's legs spread farther apart for him, letting Andrew slot them perfectly together. Neil wants it like this too, he realizes.

A shudder runs through him, overwhelming and definitely something he'd normally lash out against. But this feels too good in the moment to resist, his clothed cock sliding perfectly against Neil's, and the thought comes barreling through as the heat coils tighter and tighter.

It's just like the last time they did this. Andrew starts thrusting faster, the phantom of the real thing while Neil's back slides against the floor. Except this time...

This time what?

He watches Neil meet each thrust just as desperately, a few whimpers escaping and mixing with the few Andrew can't help but let loose. He looks absolutely debauched, with his shorts hanging off one leg and his underwear damp. Andrew takes a snapshot, sealing this Neil away in his head forever. Hungry, insatiable, junkie.

What if this was the real thing? Would Neil arch and writhe even more? Neil always feels too good to be true, even now. He'd be warm, Andrew knows it, his ass hugging Andrew's cock, so bent on making Andrew feel good. He'd probably be more reactive too, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. The fantasy floods in, and Andrew feels his heart rate pick up as his hips buck faster, the pace erratic and wild.

And that's the difference, isn't it? This time, Andrew doesn't feel strange to think about it, to imagine it. He's free to indulge, but should he, does he want to?

His cock twitches, and that's answer enough. The small ounce of hesitation is something Neil catches, because he throws Andrew a shaky smile as a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

"You can think about it," Neil chokes out, voice raw and oh, it's doing a lot of things to Andrew which shouldn't be allowed. "I am too. Fuck, I want you to fuck me Andrew, so bad..."

Andrew surges forward, slotting their lips together. It's hardly a kiss, his tongue pinning Neil's down in a promise he can't say.

Me too, I want all of you.

The thought is so shocking, it doesn't make him recoil instantly. Something in him bends, snaps in two, and the only pause he gives is one used to manhandle Neil. He pulls him forward, so Neil is curled up at the perfect angle. Andrew does sometimes appreciate all the cheerleading stretches Neil borrows from Katelyn, he's so much more flexible now.

"Neil," Andrew breathes when he pulls back from Neil's lips, just his name. Neil's eyes widen, and Andrew wonders what kind of look he's wearing again. Can Neil see it all, how much Andrew really wants to rail Neil into the nearest surface?

It doesn't matter, his next movements make it obvious.

Andrew's hips piston forward until Neil is shaking apart, his orgasm pulling out a whine Andrew knows the neighbors can hear. He can't be bothered with it now, the unusual greediness he feels when it comes to Neil is second to his own rising pleasure. So close, so close--

Neil reaches up, boneless, and hums almost deliriously. Fixated, Andrew's eyes never leave the ring of blue in his eyes. Neil's fingers tap on Andrew's neck, right at the pulse. "C'mon, come for me."

Andrew does, it's obscene how fast he does. The words aren't even all the way out of Neil's mouth and Andrew doesn't have time to be upset with his orgasm coursing through him. His eyes close on their own accord, the feeling wiping out his sight for a few blissful seconds as he trembles. He's vaguely aware of Neil's hands on his muscles, feeling them clench with the aftershocks.

Andrew's stomach bottoms out, and he feels the rush all the way down his legs.

Never before, never this intense. Not with anyone but Neil.

He slumps forward, his body about as relaxed as it can be in Neil's arms. The urge to run after these moments isn't really there anymore, the need for separation either delayed or gone completely. It's the result of doing this...many times, and Neil's arms still rest loosely around Andrew, ready to let go the moment he needs it.

They lay like that for a few seconds, their pants echoing in the small space and Andrew licks the salt from Neil's neck. The striker has the nerve to give Andrew more space, welcoming all the marks. He doesn't even realize he'll be wearing sweaters for a few days in the blistering heat, if only to avoid Kevin's wrath.

Andrew pops off, satisfied with the fresh bruise, and savors the low whine he gets for it.

Eventually, he has to move, but less for the need to get cleaned up and more due to an odd feeling tugging at his abdomen. Neil's noises...they're troublesome for Andrew's self-control, and Andrew is sure Neil knows it.

The mess in Andrew's boxers is...a lot, and he grimaces as he shifts a little. He doesn't pull away completely, just to let Neil know he's alright, but he looks down at the striker with something swimming in his chest.

Neil's breathing is ragged, chest still heaving, and Andrew's eyes follow the trail of hickies he left on Neil's collarbone. The odd feeling hits him again, a simmering heat.

Unfinished.

Ah, so that's it. He gets it.

Andrew's eyes darken and he hears the moment Neil figures it out too. The redhead's throat clears, mixed with a moan as he sits up with Andrew. His eyes are still wide, pupils blown and covering icy blue in darkness. They're expectant, excited.

So, so much energy.

Andrew knows his smirk doesn't show on his actual face, but he has to fight real hard against it as he stands up. Neil licks his lips, tracking the movement as Andrew pulls the waistband of his boxers forward. He's a mess; his cock is slick with his own cum, globs of it sticking to the fabric. Without betraying his own emotions, he pulls himself out for Neil to see the state of him. In Andrew's head, the mantra repeats: you do this to me, you make me feel this way.

Neil's eyes get that hazy quality to them, the intense focus usually applied to games, and Andrew quirks a brow. Neil's glances keep flitting between Andrew's face and his dripping cock, not sure where to look, but eager nonetheless. His mouth is already open, ready. The fire in Andrew's gut is no longer simmering, it's back in full force. Not yet satisfied, not done.

His cum is about to start dripping on the floor when he finally takes pity on them both.

"Hey," he says, almost innocently, and Neil freezes. "Clean up your mess."

And oh, Neil certainly does.

Appropriately, Andrew is peckish after this, and Kevin had once again gone through the trouble of throwing away all his candy.

Honestly, Andrew could kill him at this point. Their deal is over, but then he'd have no reason to drag Neil out after 10 p.m. to try desserts Andrew knows he'll hate. His reactions make Andrew's chest feel fuzzy, and as uncomfortable as it is, he knows it's not a bad feeling or a particularly overwhelming one. Therefore, it's best to use for exposure therapy.

He's making Neil taste baklava at some 24-hour dessert bar when he says the words, unprompted and lazy, but it doesn't feel less right. For whatever reason, their moments of mundanity seem to coax the most monumental things out of Andrew, probably because they're the most grounded he ever feels.

Neil's hair is still a mess from their activities, that coupled with his scrunched up nose at the sweetness of the pastry is so routine, so familiar, it softens Andrew's edges. Andrew's fingertips are sticky from the syrup, but there's nothing filthy about watching Neil's lips wrap around them when Andrew feeds him the bite. It's so oddly cliche and cheesy, Andrew can't believe he did it without realizing.

Neil sticks out his tongue in disgust as he chews, pushing the rest of the pastry at Andrew in favor of his boring gummy bears (Andrew made him get something), when Andrew tilts his head to look at him. Really look.

He doesn't know what he's searching for, and he doesn't find it. It's a relief; Neil is the same, and it's such a comfort Andrew has to force it down.

His brain, always the betrayer, whispers: This is it.

It's not said in a romantic, or even joyful way. It's simply stating a fact; he won't have this again, and won't pursue it.

Neil's eyes soften when he catches Andrew staring, but doesn't call it out like he normally would. The striker rests his head on his arm, blue eyes shining under the shitty diner lights. They're back to normal, all ice, all color. His hand slides across the tabletop to brush Andrew's, not quite linking, but a constant. An 'I'm here' just because he feels like it.

The ease in Neil's eyes, brought on by all their exertion and from Andrew's presence, is so unlike the desire from earlier. It's apparent, but not jarring. This side of Neil is still one he knows, one he's come to expect without meaning to. There's something so innocent about it, so genuine, the words overflow.

"Neil," he says, even though he already has Neil's undivided attention. He wonders what kind of face he's making to get that kind of reaction, but then assures himself he doesn't want to know. He can't handle that yet. He clears away the tightness in his throat as best he can without acknowledging that it's there, and lets the realization wash over him. "Next time we're alone."

He's ready to try if Neil is. He knows Neil will understand what he's referring to. It's both a proposition and a promise, and Neil reads it easily.

He blinks, sitting up in that way which reminds Andrew of an actual fox. If Neil had the ears they would perk up, alert. His fingers inch forward, between the spaces Andrew has left for him already.

"You're ready?" Neil asks, voice quiet but resounding in the deserted shop. Andrew shivers, but knows the answer. He's known for a few days, but only now does he feel up to admitting it.

"Yes."

There's not much more he needs--or wants--to say. This is his decision; the mess in his mind is still there. The image of hurting Neil, or old memories surging forward in the heat of the moment. The shock of being so connected to someone, so vulnerable. It's all still there, making his skin crawl.

But then Neil looks at him like this, a mix of lust and some other emotion he won't name (won't assign Katelyn's stupid definition to) and it becomes a factor. Despite all the mess, Neil is someone he can trust and someone who trusts Andrew.

They want this, that's enough.

"Neil," he says when Neil has been quiet too long, that stupid look on his face, and watches him blush a brilliant shade of red.

"I--yes, yes of course I--" Neil stammers, and it's instinct for him to ground himself with Andrew's touch. His hand grips Andrew's tight, as if Andrew needs more convincing when Neil's tone is so excited. The striker's gaze turns firm, determined, and heat simmers in Andrew's chest once more. "I want that..."

No kidding.

"Stop being an idiot," Andrew snaps, but he tightens his hold on Neil's hand anyways. He's not sure who he's talking to.

Judging by the smile Neil is trying to force down, he knows it too.

"You have a thing for idiots," he whispers with a smirk, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, and oh yes, Andrew always knew this man was far too dangerous to keep around.

Too late now.

"Apparently," he sighs, feigning resignation. He leans against the back of the booth, and it's mostly so he can see all of Neil clearly. The disheveled clothes, the unruly hair, the sharpness. In reality, he's far from cursing his future in that moment. He's not sure if he can label the static in his abdomen and his head as excitement, but he has a feeling it's exactly that.

Troublesome, and much too powerful to try and push away.

Satisfied, Neil smiles and leans back too. They don't stay separate for long; as soon as Neil's hand is off his, Andrew feels a strong leg press into his calf. He doesn't even flinch these days.

Neil poises to throw a gummy bear, and Andrew opens his mouth willingly to catch it, falling back into their easy routine of wasting time together. Long drives, stupid questions and stupider answers.

Andrew misses three out of the ten gummy bears, not really trying. It makes Neil laugh harder when he misses.

On the fifteenth throw, realization crosses over Neil's face, and he pauses. The smirk turns deadly, razor sharp. Andrew has never seen Neil so vengeful, and the excitement only grows when Neil speaks. "You know what this means?"

Andrew raises a brow, and Neil inhales, giddy with his own spite. "We can finally kick Kevin out."

And he automatically knows what Neil means. He recalls hours spent holed up in the stadium, making out with Neil and wishing they were cocooned in bed while Kevin sexiled them for time with Thea.

The word leaves Andrew's mouth, as deadly as Neil's expression. "Payback."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

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groton-meditation-classes-blog · 4 years

Text

Benefits of Morning Meditation

I often hear people say that they are extremely stressed about so many things in life. These things include work, money, children, lack of free time, etc. We live in a society in which "busyness" is looked upon as productive, but the truth of the matter is "busyness" is wearing people out. People are walking around tired, apathetic, and full of anxiety. Stress is actually becoming an epidemic. There always seems to be somewhere to go and something to do to keep up with the "Joneses".

People tend to speed up instead of slowing down. They start running when they feel pressured instead of taking a deep breath, sitting down, and relaxing for awhile to gather their thoughts and a plan. I liken it to a woman running frantically down the road as a car is chasing her. She is running and screaming for her life, when all she really has to do is get off the road and let the car pass by.

With so much stress piling on, what is a plausible solution? Let me share with you one simple practice that everyone can follow easily and from the comfort of their homes that will help them overcome the problem of stress and tension - meditation.

Meditation, which was initially referred to as a mystical activity associated to religious beliefs, has now been widely accepted even by mainstream medical professionals as a technique to lead a healthy and vibrant lifestyle. There are many perceptions that people have about meditation and many do not understand the benefits of meditation.

Health Benefits

Primarily, meditation involves the inward process of training one's mind in order to realise some benefit. It is an art to be learned in order to bring the body into a state of relaxation and the mind into a state of higher consciousness.

It is so simple, yet people tend to resist the practice due to various reasons. Probably the biggest reason people do not practice meditation is because they are so inclined to "do," they cannot just sit and "not do". To sit with yourself for a few minutes each day breathing deep and relaxing sounds so simple, but yet multitudes choose not to take advantage of the benefits of meditation.

Not only can meditation help a person mentally, it can also bring about numerous health benefits to people, especially when practiced in the morning. Morning meditation is typically more powerful as the mind tends to be calmer and clearer in the morning and by practicing meditation in the early morning, it becomes easier to clear the mind and gain a new perspective for the day. It sets your vibration for the day quite well and many who practice meditation in the morning will tell you that their days go better.

There are numerous ways to practice morning meditation and there are key meditation benefits as well. These include:

Mantra Meditation - This is meditation that involves the use of sound or mantra to relieve stress.

Yoga - This method controls the breathing and also augments the body flexibility.

Prayer - The most widely practiced method that involves saying prayers.

Reflection - Meditation through written or spoken word.

Walking - A highly effective method using physical exercise to focus thoughts.

Benefits of meditation

Are you ready to commit to this ancient practice? Do you think you can spare a few minutes every morning for "you" time? If so, it will take a commitment on your part, because most mornings you won't "feel" like sitting still and clearing your mind. Usually as soon as you awake you are geared toward thinking about all of the things you must do that day or begin worrying about your problems.

Morning meditation provides the following benefits:

· Helps in building skills to tackle stress.

· It promotes self-awareness.

· It aids in reducing negative thoughts.

· It enables people to decide on their goals and intentions for the particular day and also helps them stay focused in order to achieve them.

· Provides relief for people having illness caused by stress and tension.

· It enables the body to function in harmony with other medical treatments as it enables people to achieve focus of mind and thought.

· It helps to overcome problems of allergies, asthma, anxiety disorders, fatigue, mental depression, increased blood pressure levels and insomnia.

If you happen to be in a climate that is warm, consider doing your morning meditation outside. Hearing the birds sing and smelling the wonderful fragrance of nature aids in calming the body and mind. Being out in nature is therapeutic in and of itself, so consider getting out as much as you can to take in all of the beauty and peace.

The benefits of meditation are definitely worth the time and effort. In fact, with such extensive benefits and a very simple technique, morning meditation is truly a comprehensive solution for people experiencing high levels of mental tension and stress and very helpful for becoming more enlightened. Commit to just a few minutes a day to begin with. You will find yourself enjoying the practice more and more and even look forward to the time each morning.

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jaqdawks · 4 years

Text

added a short story bellow :)

content warnings: alcohol and implied nsfw acts, also mention of death.

—————————————

Nickolai awoke in someone else’s bed with a splitting hangover. He sat up and looked around the unfamiliar room. He checked if it was possibly Alcor’s, until he realized he didn’t know what Alcor’s bedroom looked like at all. He also didn’t know what most of Alcor’s flat looked like; he’d only ever been as far in as a single hallway.

For a few minutes, Nickolai fought the hangover to remember who he was with and what identity he’d assumed. All he could remember was Noah. He had a fake ID that said Noah, and his false identity as a Noah was a man who fixed computers. Noah was a common name though, and he couldn’t remember who the Noah here was.

He didn’t think about it much longer before he succumbed to the hangover and flopped back onto the bed—which Nickolai was alone in. The disturbed sheets on the spot next to him hinted to someone else having been in it earlier.

The door began to creak open, and Nickolai shut his eyes.

“Hey, it’s almost noon. I don’t want to be rude but you need to wake up,” sounded an unfamiliar voice.

Nickolai grumbled a little. He looked at the stranger, who had soft green eyes and curly red hair. He didn’t look untrustworthy, to Nickolai’s relief. Then again, Nickolai didn’t look untrustworthy either on a normal day.

“I have Advil if you need something for a hangover,” the stranger offered.

Nickolai sat up again, for real now. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

The stranger laughed. “I’m Joel. Were you too hammered to remember my name?”

Nickolai shook his head.

The stranger seemed concerned. “How much do you remember then?”

“I don’t know, I remember thinking I should get mad drunk in public instead of passing out on my couch. After that it’s just fuzzy.” Nickolai assumed he told Joel that his name was Noah.

Joel looked a little perturbed in an endearing way. “Ah, well, do you want me to fill the gaps or. . ?”

“Can I get some Advil first?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get some water for you to swallow it with,” Joel complied. “You should get dressed.”

Nickolai waited for Joel to leave before getting out of bed and tracking down all his clothes, which were strewn about the room. His shirt smelled like liquor to the point that Nickolai thought he might gag. However, he didn’t have any spare clothes and decided to just put up with it.

Joel was back a few minutes after Nickolai got dressed. It was clear he was trying to ignore the smell, but after Nickolai took the Advil, Joel asked if he needed to borrow something that didn’t smell so rancid. Nickolai obliged and was relieved to be able to rid the putrid button-down.

“Okay, so the parts you don’t remember,” Joel began. “I can’t say I remember it too well either, but I think I have a decent memory with these things.”

Nickolai nodded. “Go on.”

“So,” Joel continued. “It began when I think I saw the bartender cut you off on drinks, and I felt kind of bad about that. So I thought, hey, company’s much better than drinks, even though I was also drinking, like a lot. And I guess at some point we kinda started flirting, and I was like ‘should we take this back to your place?’ and you began to freak out. I think you said you have a dog that bites people or something? Is that true?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. Well anyways, you did not seem to be very happy with the idea of taking anyone to your place, so I took you to mine. And you can probably guess the rest, considering you woke up naked in my bed.”

Nickolai silently acknowledged the implications in his head. This wasn’t how he planned to start his weekend, but he could roll with it. “Yeah. Sorry for sleeping until noon, by the way. I’m not at all a morning person.”

Joel smiled with amusement. “How do you pull that off? I can’t even sleep past nine on a good day.”

“Sadness.”

Joel’s face went blank with a bit of underlying surprise at Nickolai’s off hand answer. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, no harm no foul.” Nickolai was vehemently aware that he may have used that saying incorrectly.

Joel veered the conversation away from the topic. “How does your head feel?”

“A little better.”

Joel was oddly kind. Nickolai wasn’t used to receiving this hospitality from strangers like him, but that probably had more to do with who Nickolai associated himself with and not people in general. Nickolai decided he liked Joel, even if he barely knew him.

“I would offer you some breakfast, but. . . it’s almost one in the afternoon. You’re probably hungry though, right?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Nickolai attempted to smile back at Joel but he was too tired to count off what would make it look genuine. Regardless, Joel didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m gonna do it anyway,” Joel decided. “Any allergies?”

“Strawberries.”

“Oh! That’s a rare one.”

Nickolai shrugged. “I seem to cash in on the rare things a lot. Albinism, an extra rib, and the strawberry allergy.”

“Casinos must hate you if you’re that lucky.”

Nickolai let out a genuine laugh. He decided he definitely liked Joel. He also felt a tinge of astonishment that someone like Joel casually hooked up with him, or generally anyone. He seemed like too much of an angel to even drink.

Nickolai followed Joel out of his room. Joel’s place was considerably nice, to the point Nickolai was in a bit of disbelief. He couldn’t have wound up in an upper class area if he had started last night at a shoddy bar, right? Joel didn’t act like he was rich, he didn’t seem like it either. But this place completely contrasted whatever Joel was like. Even Joel’s cat, a rather well groomed Norwegian forest cat—which was massive and somewhat intimidating—seemed to completely outclass Nickolai.

“Do you live here by yourself?” Nickolai asked as he surveyed the expensive wallpaper lining the kitchen walls.

“Nah, I have a housemate named Anwyll. He’s visiting family right now though.”

Nickolai froze. “Anwyll. . . As in Anwyll Tait?”

“That’s the one!”

Nickolai suddenly felt sick. “Oh fuck.”

“Is something wrong?”

Nickolai retched. Had his stomach not been empty, he had no doubt he would have thrown up all over the nice counter top.

Joel dropped what he was doing and crossed the room to Nickolai. “Are you okay?” He was suddenly at Nickolai’s side with his hand placed gently on Nickolai’s back.

Nickolai’s head spun. He knew he couldn’t tell Joel that Anwyll Tait took his brother’s life in the deathmatches. If he did, Joel would have a catalogue of every possible person Nickolai could truly be, and it would clearly point to Yuskol Voskoboinikov.

Nickolai ran through every excuse he could think up. He could say he hated the rich, but that could offend Joel. He could say the deathmatches made him sick, but Joel was obviously linked to them somehow if he was in league with a Tait. Joel felt like dangerous company, a double edged sword.

“Noah?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Nickolai croaked. “I think it’s just the hangover. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, so I guess I don’t have anything to throw up.”

That was the safest excuse.

Joel looked at Nickolai with pity. “Do you think you can eat right now?”

“Yeah.”

Nickolai felt somewhat content that he had definite confirmation that he had told Joel his name was Noah last night. The slight accent in his voice may throw off the authenticity in his identity as Noah Martin, but it wasn’t consistent enough to jeopardize him.

At the same time, the fact that he slept with someone of such high class alarmed him. Most public record photos of Nickolai Voskoboinikov’s face was outdated or somewhat photoshopped, but a Tait might be able to figure him out if they surveyed him for long enough.

“So, what’s your housemate like?” Nickolai asked. He tried to keep the nervousness from spreading to his voice.

“Anwyll can be such a jerk sometimes, but he’s also sorta nice. I’ve known him since I was little,” Joel said. “He doesn’t like new people that much, but I think he’d like you.”

“Dunno. I can be very unlikeable when I’m on my medication.” Nickolai knew with certainty that Anwyll would hate him no matter what. “Also I’m. . . lower class.” Nickolai also knew that Anwyll was a classist asshole.

“Lower class? That doesn’t matter,” Joel piped up. “The whole class thing is kind of stupid. I think the way it’s set up is interesting, but it won’t stop me from having friends from all kinds of walks of life.”

“I. . . yeah. I guess so,” Nickolai mumbled. He doubted Joel would be this positive if he knew of Nickolai’s illegal trades ties, the upper class notoriously hated brokers like him. They also especially hated him in particular.

Being there felt like the most dangerous stunt Nickolai had pulled, and he hadn’t even done it on purpose.

Joel set a ridiculously fancy, yet somehow definitely homemade, grilled cheese sandwich on a plate in front of him.

“Wow,” Nickolai mused. For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. “This looks like something an expensive ass chef would make.”

“Thanks! I went to the top culinary school in the city, my parents say it was a waste of time.”

“Fuck what your parents say,” Nickolai replied before he took a bite. The sandwich tasted unreal. The last time he had food as good as this was when he posed as an intern for one of the deathmatch organizers.

“I’m glad you like it,” Joel smiled. Nickolai felt unease crawl back into his chest. Joel seemed so genuinely friendly, though a nagging suspicion told Nickolai it could be a lie. Nickolai couldn’t take a risk by being near him for much longer. At the same time, however, he felt captivated. Joel had that charisma that so many of the notorious upper class families seemed to unanimously mirror. He was a golden face among a sea of golden faces, all rotten under their skin. Nickolai knew what they were like.

Even then, Joel seemed to care a lot more than most would let on.

Nickolai took a deep breath. “I have to go home, sorry. I left my meds there, and I probably have people flooding my inbox about work and all that bullshit.”

“That’s alright. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your job?”

“I fix computers,” Nickolai lied. That was Noah’s persona, and a story that should hold up if Joel decided to try and look in to it.

To be polite, he exchanged phone numbers. Nickolai only had his burner phone on him, which was a relief. The calls and texts that flooded Nickolai’s personal phone daily would have definitely been suspicious.

Nickolai liked Joel, but he knew he wouldn’t call him. Nickolai had a hunch that Joel may not be the worst of his kind, but he knew he wouldn’t text him back. It felt harsh to shut Joel out like this, but Nickolai wasn’t going to risk identification simply because he had a good encounter. They waved goodbye, and Joel’s cheery expression was a reminder that Nickolai would have to be silently cruel.

Nickolai didn’t call for a cab, he walked until his hangover began to bother him again. Then he called Alcor—Alcor didn’t have Nickolai’s burner phone address, but he was a safer bet than any cabs in this place.

The phone rang for a while before Alcor picked up.

“Who’s this?”

Nickolai felt relief wash over him to hear a familiar voice. “It’s Nick. Can you come pick me up?”

Alcor’s words were laced with suspicion as he spoke over the phone. “. . . Sure. Where are you?”

Nickolai looked at the street sign. Of course he had to stop on Ivory Street—the richest and most notorious, and also the one Nickolai hated the most for almost no real reason. With a sigh, he said, “Ivory Street.”

“How the fuck did you get there?”

“Drunkenly and against my conscious knowing.”

“Is this going to be dangerous?”

Nickolai groaned. “Not as dangerous as standing in the house that belongs to the man who killed my brother. Now get over here, I don’t think it’d be safe to use public transport in this area.”

There was a silence on the other end, then Alcor replied, “I’m on my way.”

#art #digital aritst #digital art #digital doodle #digital drawing #illustration #oc #ocs #short story #writing #original writing #my art

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fy-juho · 5 years

Text

[ ! ] About Zuho’s health

Hello fantasy! Normally I don’t really make posts like this but I felt like this is a topic we need to talk about, let’s get it out here once and for all.

This is mainly regarding Zuho’s mental and physical health, but the current issue also contains other SF9 members. Let’s start at the beginning and talk about his waist problem. This will be a long post so please read it all.

Everyone now probably knows about Zuho’s waist injury. It’s the reason why he couldn’t participate in Narcissus promotions even after having been practicing the choreography, recording songs and joining the album shooting.

The first time we all saw how bad his injury really is was during the second story fancon when SF9 was performing Go back in time and Zuho fell and couldn’t complete the performance // he had to get [dragged] off stage by the other members.

Keep in mind, the second story fancon was June 2018. He still promoted for six months with this injury through Sensuous, and before.

However, Zuho assured Fantasy later on fancafe that while he was hurt, he got treatment and we shouldn’t worry about it a lot.

Obviously this isn’t really true, and Zuho ended up on hiatus from February 20th till~ March 17th. The doctor told him to rest for at least a month and Zuho’s back promoting ever since.

However, Zuho’s still not been completely healthy since he had to sit out a few performances during the current Unlimited world tour and, practically speaking, a waist injury barely heals in three months, let alone one month.

The second issue is Zuho’s eyes. Some of you might’ve noticed that in yesterday’s SFMuVi Zuho looked like he was in pain the entire 30 minute video, and basically at any point he’s squeezing his eyes shut or lowering his head.

Today in Zuho’s vlive fantasy was concerned and asking about what was wrong. From what I could understand he answered that his lenses have been bothering him lately and he got some sort of infection to his eye, so he had to go to the hospital in Korea to get it fixed. Again he tells us not to worry though... There might be more to this as I couldn’t understand everything he said but he kept assuring us nothing was wrong.

The third issue is what came to light especially today, and what made a lot of fansites/fantasy really upset.

SF9 are currently the face of the brand ‘Toreore Chicken’. You can find their commercial here. The problem with this company is their chicken is made with corn. Some of you may know Zuho has a corn allergy.

Zuho said this in his vlive yesterday:

However, only a year ago even smelling corn made Zuho feel nauseous [the entire video he keeps pointing out the smell of corn], so this seems unbelievable. Zuho had to apologize for what he said in this vlive [about not liking corn] by FNC, which he did in today’s vlive. Some Fantasy have also sent Zuho hate comments because of this for some reason. Which leads us to the current issue of FNC not taking care of their artists in general.

The vlive has been deleted by FNC because of Zuho saying he doesn’t like corn.

Fantasy are sending in complaints to FNC for mistreating their artists. I contacted a fansite to ask if they could explain the entire situation and this is basically what’s happening right now:

basically it says "if you're a fantasy you would know that Zuho is allergic to corn and that Hwiyoung and Chani are the only members who really like corn [the other members dislike it]." im not sure whos blaming Zuho for what since i dont think it would be the members so maybe thats fans,,, "today in the vlive broadcast Zuho said that it was difficult to do the commercial because the smell of corn makes him want to die // because he has food allergies he thinks he could die smelling the food. because he's an idol it was a mistake for him to speak up about not liking corn" im not entirely sure here either "but FNC takes money for the ad without checking the health condition of SF9 first" because Zuho has a corn allergy it means they shouldnt have taken this ad "FNC deleted Zuho's vlive in which he said he didn't like corn and scolded Zuho, making him apologize on vlive today. he shouldnt have to apologize for that"

To sum it up, it seems like only Chani and Hwiyoung thought positively about this brand before doing a commercial. FNC is getting money from Toreore Chicken while Zuho in particular has to suffer through a corn allergy, and they’re not taking his health into account at all.

My final point is Zuho’s mental health in general. In “Together with Zuho”, a series he had on vlive a few months back, every week he told us how he wasn’t eating well. Zuho said he barely slept and took one meal a day, if he ate at all. He gained a little bit of weight during Mamma Mia but SF9 members teased him a lot about it and some kfantasy asked him to lose weight which he did back then. However now he looks so skinny it’s becoming a little bit concerning.

Zuho is also always thinking he’s not good enough, feels apologetic very quick and touches upon sensitive thoughts during these vlives. I’d recommend you watch them [they’re partly subbed] because it also gives more insight to Zuho’s mentality. He just seems... Very mentally unhappy and insecure about himself, and I never talk about this seriously but it’s actually a concern we should have.

↳ the mental health part is something im personally worried about and obviously not confirmed // i just always get particularly sad when i listen to Zuho’s vlives because he seems so sad and mostly exhausted himself

I just wanted to update everyone on what’s currently happening since I feel like Fantasy on tumblr aren’t really aware of how bad the situation has gotten.

#zuho #juho #sf9 #admin post #i hope everyone will thoroughly read this #and if anyone has anything to add please message me!

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wetookanoath · 5 years

Note

a scenerio that popped into my head: They are living in the same apartment building and this orange cat keeps getting on Ryan's nerves always snooping around his balcony and causing trouble, breaking pots etc. He knows the cat is his neighbor's he saw it being let in from their balcony so after this has happened a handful of times he's ready to go and have a few strong words with whoever lives there but oh shit the guy is so tall and hot, fuck

This is not exactly what you asked for and def you didn’t ask for a fanfic, but here, I wrote a fic! The first in WEEKS! So yaay!

[AO3]

The orange menace would appear on the balcony at 4 PM every day without fail. Always looking at Ryan, trying to mess with his head.

If he didn’t know better, Ryan would think the cat could read his mind and appear when he least needed him to. The cat had even learned how to open the sliding door of his balcony, so sometimes he would find it nesting in the kitchen sink which was very inconvenient when Ryan had people over or wasn’t ready for allergic reactions.

Regardless, the animal kept coming back and Ryan kept wondering why, why him?

This time the cat was asleep on his goddamn bed, and Ryan was tired, so tired and so drunk.

“Fuck it.”

“Mrrrp”, the cat replied, before blinking at him and curling up into a ball.

All he could do was get himself on the other side of the bed to fall asleep with the orange cat purring at his back.

Someone was knocking in his head.

Three soft knocks and a pause,followed by another three knocks. Ryan frowned, that was not possible – someone knocking at his head? What…? Right. The door.

“No… go away…”

He tried his best to ignore the noise, turning on his side facing the window, when he felt something both sharp and fuzzy pawing at his forehead. Still refusing to open his eyes, he brought up a hand to feel around and noticed something fluffy and very much alive resting gently over his head.

Ryan was about to scream demon when a loud purr distracted him enough to suddenly remember last night, he opened his eyes slowly.

The cat was sleeping on his head.

Sighing, Ryan moved to rest on his back, when the knocking on his door started up again. This time louder and fuck– a quick glance to his alarm clock on the night stand told him it was three fuck-off in the morning. The knocking didn’t seem to bother the cat, who was still purring as it pawed gently on top of his head, like it was trying to style his hair.

Ryan frowned, not sure of what was weirder: the orange cat on his head or the person banging on his door at 3 AM.

Maybe he’d get killed, but with all the effort a hungover guy could muster, Ryan got out of bed and went to open the door.

Tall Hot And Unbothered was at his door, looking like death.

His red nose and watery eyes made Ryan swallow and look back into his apartment to see if there were any cameras or a unicorn around, because this couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream or some sort of prank.

Ryan was confused, but the frantic look in his neighbor’s face made Ryan try to smile and the man looked at him with something akin to hope and his heart started to beat faster.

“Hey…”

“Hi, hello.” He said, voice deep yet tiny, like if he had been crying for far too long. “I’m sorry, I know It’s super late–”

“Dude, are you okay?” Ryan frowned.

The tall– way too tall, extremely tall– man quickly dried his face with hands covered by his dark sweater. It didn’t really help his case, it only made him look incredibly vulnerable and Ryan wondered if he was still in his bed, dreaming some sort of strange romantic scenario that would end in the most ridiculous porno his brain could have made up.

He had been very drunk when he came home after all, and it wouldn’t be the first time. Especially when it came to this guy in particular, Tall Hot And Unbothered from 17E upstairs.

Ryan blinked, watching as the guy swallowed and looked down before returning his eyes to his face.

“Allergies.” He excused, Ryan lifted an eyebrow knowing that wasn’t the case.

Allergies was in his room, making himself comfortable in his bed as Ryan tried his best not to show just how infatuated with this man he was.

“I’m just… I’m looking for my cat. He is an orange tabby, has a black collar with a green bell in the shape of an alien head, have you seen him?”

Bless that little fucker.

The first time Ryan saw Tall Hot And Unbothered, the guy had been on the phone and had just passed Ryan in the lobby of their building, giving him no mind. Not a glance, nothing. But it had left him starstruck since the beginning.

Nolan, the guy at the desk, had given him A Look after he had asked for a name and more information on the tall man, but he had been a new tenant and Nolan hadn’t had a chance to talk to him just yet.

It wasn’t until the third time he asked in as many days that Ryan realized desk guy Nolan thought him a creep, and so he desisted.

Still, he couldn’t help himself and the smile on his lips every time they saw each other in the elevator. Tall Hot And Unbothered was polite as hell but still didn’t mind him. Their little dance of good morning and good night wasn’t enough, but damn if Ryan wasn’t the worst at talking to people unless someone else introduced him to them, let alone at flirting.

And so, four months had passed and now, Tall Hot and Unbothered was at his door, asking for the orange menace sleeping in his bed.

Maybe Ryan should had noticed that the damn cat started to appear in his balcony, fucking up pots and meowing at ridiculous hours of the early morning, at the same time Tall Hot And Unbothered moved to the building.

Looking at him now, he was more like Tall Hot And Cute, which was the worst possible combination because then his brain would malfunction forever in the presence of this man.

“Obi!” He said, taking the cat from Ryan’s arms and cuddling him to his chest. The cat meowed, looking at Ryan with what he tried not to identify as betrayal. “You’re such a fucking asshole, how dare you?”

Jesus. Ryan chuckled, seeing the man standing in his living room holding his cat. The damn thing didn’t seem bothered at all, it kept glancing over at Ryan with shining eyes and if he woke up dead by clawing, it wouldn’t be a surprise.

At least his ghost knew where to find the irresponsible owner of such a furry little bitch.

Tall Hot And Cute looked at him, and Ryan felt a knot in his throat, unable to talk or move. Maybe he had swallowed his tongue.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, and I was so worried–” He said way too fast.

Ryan frowned as his head started to pound, suddenly aware of how drunk he had been and how late at night, or early in the morning it was.

“He hasn’t come in days, he must have been such a bother–”

“What? Days? No, he was just…” His eyes opened wide. “Oh.” Ryan swallowed. “Well, I mean… I didn’t realize he had been staying. I think.”

The man frowned, carrying the cat like if he was a baby. Ryan licked his lips, looking down at himself to remember that hey, he was in his pink boxers with strawberry patterns. Excellent.

“Thank you for having him over.”

“Uh,” Ryan looked up, smiling alike when he noticed Tall Hot And Cute happily smiling at him. He no longer looked dead inside, which was good. He really was good looking. “It’s alright, at least now I know who to call when he keeps eating my plants and knocking them off the balcony”.

His expression changed, eyes wide open as he looked towards the balcony, then to the cat.

“Dude!” He said, the cat meowed angry at his owner and all Ryan could do was laugh at the image. “What the hell? Oh, my God. I’m so sorry!” Tall Hot And Cute looked at him. “Shit, how much do I owe you?”

“I don’t know…” He swallowed. “I haven’t replaced shit, so… It’s okay, really.”

“Fuck…” The man frowned, looking down at his cat who was looking very Not Okay in this situation. “Well, when you do, hit me up with the bill. I’m in the 17E.” He said and Ryan had to bite his tongue not to answer, I know.

Maybe desk guy Nolan was right.

“Sure, man. It’s fine.” He shrugged. “Uhm, I’m– I’m Ryan.”

“Oh.” He seemed to notice they hadn’t introduced each other, and smiled at him. “Shane.” He said, sighing while moving the cat to show it to him. “And Obi.”

“Great,” Ryan chuckled. “Now at least I have a name for him, the orange menace is too long.”

“The orrrrghhh–” He laughed, it echoed in the room as it did in Ryan’s head and he couldn’t help but smile, seeing Shane’s eyes turn into half moons and his cheeks turning red. He could get used to this. “Uhm,” Shane smiled at him, Ryan tilted his head to one side. “Well, I… should let you sleep. I’m very sorry again, I know this was… uncalled for.”

“A little bizarre.” He admitted, gesturing with his hand. “But it’s okay. Uhm…”

“Good night, Ryan. Thanks again.”

He nodded, following Shane’s steps towards his door and watching as the man walked out of his apartment. They smiled at each other, and when the taller guy looked at him one last time and Ryan sighed, debating between watching him get on the elevator or just closing his door and screaming into his pillow.

But a sudden strike of bravery made him ask, “Hey, Shane?”

“Uh?” The man looked back, walking backwards towards the elevator.

Ryan smiled at the sight. “You want to come over later? We can have a beer, watch a movie…”

The man stopped, blinking before answering with a neutral expression. “Sure.”

“Great!” He swallowed, hands sweating as he tried to look chill. “Around four is okay?”

“Yeah, that would be fine.” He smiled, giving Ryan his back again. The cat meowed. “Good night!”

“Good night, guys!”

Ryan watched as they got into the elevator, Obi meowing again as Shane smiled at Ryan, the door closing before he could see him smile back.

Maybe the cat wasn’t so bad after all.

#shyan #skeptic believer #shyan fic #shyanlibrary #nini got mail #mine #my fanfics #otp: we took an oath #fanfictions #obi #Anonymous

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haberdashing · 5 years

Text

Things Once Forgotten

An Elsewhere University graduate struggles to remember the reason behind a deep-seated phobia of theirs.

on AO3

Your fiancee wanted a dog. That was where it had all began.

On the face of it, her argument was reasonable enough. She’d had dogs all her life up until the year before you two met, when her last one had passed away and she wasn’t sure at the time if she was in a good place to take on another. She was ready for one now, though, and while you’d never had a dog of your own, you were fond of cats, and the two weren’t all that different, the false binary of “dog people” and “cat people” aside. It’d mean going out for walks with the dog now and then, but you liked taking strolls through the neighborhood anyway, and bringing along a companion shouldn’t be too much of an issue.

All of which would be all well and good if you weren’t utterly terrified of dogs.

Your fiancee had persevered. She was determined to get a dog, but also determined to find one that wouldn’t frighten you in the process. She had you meet her parents’ dogs, her friends’ dogs, found the tiniest puppies imaginable at a local shelter and arranged a personal introduction, but big or small, wild or tame, all of them scared the wits out of you just the same.

(Actually, that wasn’t entirely true, as a bit of directed trial-and-error discovered: somehow, it was the little pipsqueak dogs, tiny bundles of fluff and energy that could realistically do you no harm, that freaked you out the most.)

After a few weeks of struggling with the issue, you resorted to meeting with a therapist.

Dr. Stein was a petite lady whose long blonde hair was turning silver with age, her gold-framed glasses making her dark blue eyes stand out that much more. She’d started with a reasonable enough question, the kind you had anticipated her asking: had you always been afraid of dogs, or was there some incident in particular that had been the impetus of your phobia?

The trouble was, you weren’t quite sure what the answer was.

You hadn’t grown up with dogs--your father was deathly allergic to them--but you didn’t remember being afraid of them at a young age, or having any feelings towards them stronger than a combination of idle curiosity and vague worry of having inherited your father’s allergy. But you couldn’t recall exactly when it was that your fear of dogs sprang up, let alone whether there had been a specific incident that had caused it.

You met with Dr. Stein several times more in the following months, went over your life in the hopes of finding some less-than-obvious connection to your phobia that you had overlooked, uncovering a few unsettling facts in the process that only led to more questions instead of the answers you so desperately sought.

First: nobody you could get in touch with remembered you encountering any particular problems with dogs that might have caused your fear; in fact, back in high school you’d became friends with the next door neighbors largely through befriending their large, slobbering hounds, though your visits with them had slowed to a stop after you went off to college.

Second: there are a number of long, dark scar lines across your back, reaching from near your shoulder blades down to your waist; you have absolutely no memory of where these scars came from, but you’re pretty sure you got them either during or after college.

Third: a good chunk of your college life has been reduced to little more than a blur in your memory. You remember bits and pieces, especially when it comes to your actual studies--reading books whose age could be measured in centuries, listening to lectures about those long dead coming from professors who often didn’t sound far off themselves, forming a tight-knit study group with a handful of your fellow history majors--but what you did in your down time, what you did for fun during those four years? You have only brief snippets and vague ideas left of that. Even some of what you do remember seems off a bit--you don’t know what the name of that one professor with the frizzy hair and the freckles and the refreshingly accommodating policy about late work was, but you’re pretty sure it’s neither Taffy nor Toffee, though your memory waffles between the two, and whatever the name of that tall guy in your study group who only ever wore graphic t-shirts and faded jeans, it definitely wasn’t Pineapple Pizza.

The conclusion Dr. Stein reaches, that something happened to you in college that caused your back scars, your fear of dogs, and your lack of memory of your college years, makes sense, given the evidence, but all attempts at unearthing the repressed memories behind your phobia fail miserably. Nothing Dr. Stein says or does helps you remember even the slightest bit about what might have happened to you back in college to make even the smallest of dogs utterly terrify you. For all the progress you make, you might as well have been running headfirst into a brick wall and expecting something other than frustration and pain.

Eventually, you, your fiancee, and Dr. Stein reach an agreement that perhaps the only way to unearth those repressed memories is to go back to your college and see if stepping on campus once again after all these years helps to jog your memory. Elsewhere’s Homecoming is coming up, anyway, and it’s not an unreasonable drive from home. At worst, you burn a little gas money and waste a weekend at an unremarkable college event. At best, you find the missing piece of the puzzle, and all those questions of yours will finally be answered.

Most of the drive is downright mind-numbing, the scenery changing little as the hours pass by, and once you start getting close you’re surprised that Elsewhere University managed to find a foothold and survive for so long while being located in, well, the middle of nowhere, really. You vaguely remember the highway near campus once you turn onto it, but it’s not until you cross onto the campus proper and your fiancee pulls into a school parking lot that you remember anything more significant.

The memories flood you all at once, and you struggle to wade through them, to find what you’re looking for amidst recollections of so many other things.

That professor with the frizzy hair really did go by Taffy--Saltwater Taffy specifically for the first few weeks of her employment, before she decided that the “Saltwater” part was both unwieldy and a bit bolder than she cared to be. She was an Elsewhere alumna, naturally, and well aware of the wide variety of circumstances that could lead to a student having to turn in late work, including those that wouldn’t (and couldn’t) happen at any other university. Taffy wasn’t her actual name, of course, but then, nobody went by their real name at Elsewhere, so she fit in just fine.

That tall guy with a fondness for graphic t-shirts really did go by Pineapple Pizza; he had a nasty combination of food allergies that meant he would never get to taste the stuff himself, but he liked the looks he got for choosing the name, liked how it led to arguments breaking out in his midst as often as not.

And as for what you did for fun while at college?

Well, that study group wasn’t just interested in history, or at least, not the kind of history that could be studied from old books and boring lectures. Your little group devised experiments and deals, ways of gaining knowledge from those who had witnessed things that no human had been alive to see, weighed pros and cons regarding what to learn and how. You were also a Knight, on the side, spending hours upon hours helping other students who had made poor decisions...

...except, of course, for the time when the one who had made a poor decision was yourself.

It had seemed harmless enough, to go pet the dog that was sitting nonchalantly a few feet away from the path you were following, big eyes watching you from that tiny tuft of fur and bones laying there. You missed your neighbors’ hounds, missed your family’s cats, and petting a dog that had wandered onto campus seemed like an innocent enough way of soothing that particular bit of homesickness.

(An ingenious trap, really.)

You hadn’t noticed that the dog was dangerously close to the edge of the forest, hadn’t noticed that its shadow shifted and swayed with the setting sun, hadn’t noticed that both its shadow and its eyes were far too large for the small form it had taken on.

You only stopped approaching the dog upon sinking one hand deep into its fur, which was soft and luscious and thick, far thicker than it should be given how small the dog appeared to be.

It was only then that you realized what you had done, realized what the small and unassuming form of this “dog” actually concealed.

The rest remains a blur even now.

Turning your back on the “dog” and running, sprinting towards campus as if your life depended on it, because you knew it very well might.

Hot breath pressed against your back, and then claws ripping into your flesh, tearing it apart with ease.

A cluster of people gathering around you, one making shoddy salt line after shoddy salt line in the ground before you.

A well-tossed iron chain finally forcing your pursuer to turn away and allowing you to stop moving, sinking into the ground as the pain you had ignored in your terror returned with a vengeance, agony burning into you as you felt warm blood run across your back and your vision faded into nothingness.

You feel your fiancee’s hand brush against your own and recoil, realizing only then how tense you had become, how you had been sitting in silence for some time now.

“So?” your fiancee tentatively asks.

Your initial response is just a single, shaky laugh.

“What is it? Did you remember something?”

You shake your head and say, “Dr. Stein is never going to believe this.”

#personal #shitpost #feel free to reblog #elsewhere university #elsewhere u #my writing

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it-stheaulifeforme · 5 years

Note

40 to 60

awwwwww yiSSSSSSS

40. What is the wildest thing your OC has done?

Not exactly one for being super wild, but they have a habit of underestimating energy drinks and drink quite a few of them, or when they get a particularly good haul they sometimes spend it on cool shiny rocks. They can be quite careless like that, but r o c k s.

41. What is your OCs motto about life?

They don’t tend to have a lot of mottos about life, just trying to take it easy, understand things and see the sights. They try not to worry about the future, life has been out of control enough. They tend to cross bridges when they come to them whilst also being prepared; it’s the past they have problems with. They try and remember what their mother taught them, especially when it comes to using violence. They’re not of the strongest disposition but they’ll only fight when they have to. Life shouldn’t have to be about struggle and suffering, you shouldn’t have to put up unnecessary fights in order to learn and grow. You just gotta take care of yourself.

Of course, when Ego reveals a very horrible truth, violence is pretty much the key, alongside the assertion of human connection and individuality. The latter part is just as important.

42. Does your OC drink coffee or tea?

Coffee, but their eyes usually get caught by energy drinks and interesting sodas. Which certainly gives them an interesting buzz and they really like collecting the cans or bottles. Makes them think of the differences compared back to Earth, which can make them terribly nostalgic.

43. Who is your OCs biggest hero?

Their mother. They have the biggest connection to them and admire them a lot; her values have stayed with them despite everything. They often despair at what happened to her and how things could’ve been, feeling very much cheated but still wanting to carry around her memory and values because she was the most stable figure in their life that meant a great deal. Like anybody would, it becomes absolutely soul destroying that you’re now stuck on a planet alone with a father that killed your mother, where they find even more of a reason to keep her memory and that connection alive, in more ways than one.

44. What colour eyes does your OC have?

They take a lot after their mother and have predominantly hazel-green eyes. I feel it made a lot of sense because they started off as a self insert, and they’re very close to their mother. It very much represents nature and growth as opposed to Ego’s destruction of everything to remake it in his image and it’s very clear that they’re not whatsoever like their father at all, in the end. I thought this would be suitable symbolism where we get to see a real growth in their abilities and more of an understanding of a connection with their mother.

45. Does your OC like reading?

Since they’re usually cruising space in their own ship, it’s one thing they like to do. Apart from listen to their music, they manage to have one book from Earth that was in their bag when they were abducted and that’s the War of the Worlds (in a clearly more battered condition) which their mother bought for them after they got interested in the musical version. It takes their mind off of things, which browsing libraries on different planets also happens to do. Especially Xandar, which they found to be the most peaceful and easy to reside in.

46. Is your OC loyal?

Well...they have enough trust issues and they’re more of a loner, so it’d take a lot for them to be convinced before loyalty comes into it. They’re already cynical enough by the time when they meet Ego, especially since they have a sense they aren’t aware of them not feeling great when someone of a particularly evil nature is nearby (which they always chalked up to allergies or eating the wrong thing - it’s not so bad in general but since Ego is on such a terrible level of evil they don’t suspect any connection until it’s too late). It probably helps that they’re only half Celestial but get more from their mother (which is symbolic in of itself that they were the ones that inherited the gene and somehow still get a good deal from their mother, that clearly meant something).

So, frankly, they’d rather avoid the company of others in general, and a whole lot of repressed feelings and trust issues just kinda explode out by the time they’re with Ego. There’s a lot of trauma they’ve had to deal with, and that’s hard enough when you’re travelling around the universe learning to survive and get on with things.

47. Does your OC tolerate violence?

Answered in this post.

48. What social class is your OC from?

I don’t know how our distinction between classes on Earth applies to outer space or different planets for that instance, but they’d be the equivalent of working class. A lot of the time they find space junk and get some of the profit in selling it; it’s just a case of making enough to get by and frankly they’re fine with that. There’s a lot they’d rather be doing but they need the money like anybody else. It doesn’t help the kind of rough environment they entered when they got abducted.

49. What country was your OC born in?

The south of England. Their mother was originally from the US and met Ego the first couple of times but had to leave with her family to the UK (she was in her early 20s and she was having problems finding work) and it was there she found out she was expecting and ended up having them there. She did see him the next couple of times when he came over after they were born but he said he eventually had to leave, even making the (broken) promise to come over and they’d go back together.

50. Does your OC cry easily?

Usually, but they had to learn to hide it when they got abducted, so they ended up managing to do much of it in their sleep. It was tolerated to an extent but they ended up keeping a lot to themselves because it made more sense that way. On their own ship they do end up crying a whole lot when interacting with much of their mother’s stuff they still held onto and a whole lot of it really comes out when they find out the truth about Ego. They do cry beforehand, out of anger, wistfulness and wanting to understand, but that all gets thrown out of the window and all the pain gets directed at him in the end. So frankly, though they’ve had to hide it a lot, it never went away and they are certainly a very emotional person.

51. What is your OCs favourite genre of music?

They don’t have a specific genre but they are partial to acoustic and rock, usually heavy, sometimes classic but especially pop rock.

52. How does your OC feel about insects?

They’re alright but they can be annoying. Especially when you’re travelling around in space, the breeds can get quite...interesting, so they’d rather stay far away from them. They weren’t the biggest fan of them on Earth but left them alone to do their own thing, although they did make an exception for butterflies.

53. What is your OCs sexual orientation?

Asexual. They’ve never really felt that spark with someone and is frankly kinda repulsed at the idea of sex, so they find other things to do. They prefer listening to music, reading and spending time at libraries at different planets, preferably Xandar. Which also takes their mind off of things. Though that doesn’t eveh take into account their own loner status and trust issues; they’ve just not felt that connection with anybody and would preferably not get involved anyway.

54. Does your OC smoke?

Never. Their mother was the first they learnt not to do it from and no matter what from that point on they never felt the need to. They had more than enough to deal with without taking up smoking.

55. What gender is your OC?

Nonbinary but leans towards a more masculine presentation. It took them a while to figure it out but frankly they were really in over their head with a lot of things, so they didn’t figure it out properly until they were more or less out of the environment they were abducted into. They were still pretty much dressing more gender neutral/masculine before then, but they eventually found a safer space to understand themselves.

Of course, this still really leaves them open to misgendering; they prefer they/them pronouns but don’t mind he/him; unfortunately they have been mistaken for female and been referred to with she/her pronouns which can be grating at the very least. Ego is the worst culprit as per usual, as even if he only becomes slightly aware, he can be kinda patronising about it and when the truth is revealed and hell breaks loose, he’s way more malicious about it.

56. What kind of clothes does your OC wear?

Always keen on them jeans and trainers, but often swaps out t-shirts and jumpers depending on how they feel. Leather jackets are a go to but they’re just as keen on wearing hoodies. They also find it really nice to wear fingerless gloves and when we find them when they see Ego, they’re wearing what looks like the equivalent of a bandana to keep the hair out of their eyes - it’s only later when they realise how sick they are of everything and let out a lot of repressed emotion that they just fucking---cut it off. But that’s their usual stuff - casual as hell, but we see a particular change in appearance when things really take a turn for the absolute WORST.

57. Would you call your OC adventurous?

Probably. They do like planet hopping and cruising around, even if they prefer to stick to some more favoured places like Xandar and their own ship. They just wanna be left alone and do their own thing. They just want to have that freedom away from things and find their own peace.

58. Is your OC introverted or extroverted?

Introverted. They predominantly find energy more or less by themselves and feel restless in social situations. Not that they mind it, but they prefer getting on with things by themselves just fine. Besides, they’re wary enough of things without getting involved in deep conversations and suchlike, generally. It takes a lot.

59. What is the first thing someone would notice about your OC?

They’re generally shorter and keep to themselves as they walk around, carrying headphones around their neck.

60. Does your OC enjoy nature?

Generally. When they were back on Earth, they used to go for a lot of walks in the country with their mother, especially since they were right near a whole lot of countryside. They haven’t managed to find the same feeling since, especially since they’re wary about the species on different alien planets. It was a whole different feeling on Ego’s planet though, which really took their fancy before...everything happened.

#asks #ask games #games #gaysonlyocean #OC #OC Andy #heLL YEAH #this was really fun to do #guardians of the galaxy vol. 2 #au #ego the living planet

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salesalary83-blog · 4 years

Text

Dairy It: Exactly how New Zealand's Dairy Exports Controlled The Planet

Dairy Public Auctions Online - Find a Fantastic Shopper Currently!

Milks are one of the most traded commodities worldwide today. Because of this, they are actually additionally among the best frequently bought on competitive market days. The largest dairy market is that of the European Union (EU). Across the bloc, cows produce around 60 thousand tonnes of dairy annually.

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Why Are Cream As Well As Butter One Of The Most Typical Product Of Dairy Products Field?

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Cheddar cheese is among the most prominent food products of the globe today. It is actually widely acknowledged as well as revered for its velvety and also delicious taste and has likewise acquired a lot of recognition as an attendee in international food and lifestyle. The name cheddar stems from the community of Cheddar in the province of France, where it stemmed from. Cheddar cheese is actually the product of global dairy exchange. The globalization has carried a large variety of foodstuff from around the planet to the grocery stores of the globe market.

Curd is actually a type of curd which is fermented and hases plenty of solid taste. The curd is actually initially a yellow-colored yellow solid, and this is actually after that produced in to a selection of various flavor as well as dietary characteristics. The curd is actually produced through either saturating the curds in water or fermenting all of them. When the curds are actually soaked in water, they look at a procedure where they are helped make to become less smooth and even more curd like. It is certainly not simply the curd that is made coming from this yet the whey, milk, cream, as well as likewise the excess fat. These are utilized as animal feed, fuel, and as creature milk.

The curd is soft and also can be made easily and also conveniently. The curd is actually a durable as well as appetizing foodstuff which makes it one of the absolute most well-known foods items of the planet. Although it can be very expensive, a lot of individuals may really be offered with it without needing to go out of their home to shop for it. It is also some of the favorite foods items of the rich as a result of its structure and also preference. As such, it is actually offered for everybody with the globalization.

Butter Exchanging

Butter and various other milk items are actually highly traded commodities which develop in an open market. Their manufacturing identifies the total rate of Butter and also Carbohydrate rates. Butter is an important asset in worldwide connections and also the cost participates in an essential duty in global organisation purchases. Butter is actually a crucial element in bread and also various other food items, producing it a food staple. The meals field is very big, covering foodstuff and markets that use components derived from nutritious excess fats. It is also recognized for its usefulness in the culinary and food preparation business.

Butter EEX is one of one of the most traded assets around the world. It is a product of global milk trade and it is likewise the largest export of South Korea. Butter is generated in Western Europe, Italy, Canada, the USA, and also Germany. It is actually often traded in the Greater london market, the Chicago Mercantile Swap, as well as other European commodities exchanges. It is actually traded to generate additional margin for milk trading businesses. It has become the best essential product in the international dairy trade. Exports of butter has actually been very financially rewarding for the butter market.

Butter futures have been traded on the marketplace because the year 1759, when New York was the main exchanging centre. Butter is sold a free market with minimal position as well as closing hrs. They are actually bought and sold depending on to various present market as well as financial situations. Butter futures markets are actually thought to become an item of the Butter EEX market. Butter futures agreements are actually issued based on the Butter futures arrangement. Butter futures contracts are created by the Conventional Setters of Butter. The position and closing price of the Butter futures agreement is specified due to the Item Future Cleaning Company (CFCC).

Boost Your Physical Body With ANHYDROUS DAIRY FATS as well as SKIMMED DAIRY CONCENTRATE-LOW WARM

ANHYDROUS MILK FAT is the particle helped make from skimmed off milk concentrate-low heat energy as well as a top quality excess fat. It is completely acceptable for those that are actually lactose intolerant. If you are actually a kind 2 diabetic after that you need to take care while using ANHYDROUS MILK EXCESS FAT. This item does the majority of the people, yet if you possess high blood pressure or even cholesterol complication then it must be utilized with vigilance. Other than being a helpful procedure for blood glucose amounts, it likewise controls cholesterol amounts and also boosts blood vessels. It is actually taken into consideration being one of the greatest foods for reduced high blood pressure.

Compared to ANHYDROUS MILK BODY FAT, SKIMMED DAIRY CONSTANT is actually a wealthier in excess fat, having said that it is secured via an extra difficult procedure that features the intro of blood sugar right into the curd through making use of pure glucose in the curd. This assists to make a much less thick curd along with more significant thickness. this cream trading notes contains anti-oxidants, which participate in a vital role in combating coronary artery disease. It may be utilized as a substitute for hydrogenated fats, which may be made up during cooking food as well as frying. It may assist you lose weight and maintain your physical body energetic. It can easily additionally help you shed the extra pounds coming from contaminants as well as other unwanted materials in your body.

SKIMMED PUMP CONCENTRATE-LOW WARMTH is actually another lesser-known product available. This item is actually made from the skimmed off milk concentrate-low warm. It is actually an extra recommended option over ANHYDROUS MILK FAT due to its prolonged service life as well as capacity to minimize excess fats to a portion of their initial material. The distinction between SKIMMED DAIRY CONCENTRATE-LOW HEAT and also ANHYDROUS DAIRY EXCESS FAT is that the past can avoid blood clot, which may aid you steer clear of a stroke. It is actually proven that this item minimizes LDL cholesterol and triglycerides, therefore lowering blood pressure levels. Matched Up to ANHYDROUS DAIRY FAT, this item has been shown to improve digestive function and activate the metabolic process of carbohydrates and body fats. This powder is likewise on call in various varieties and also is actually exceptional for fat loss.

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