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jjungkooksthighs · 1 year

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (15)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: (fluff, angst, and smut) abo/werewolf, fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 7k

Summary: The Duels of the Chosen come to an abrupt end, and the right to lay claim to you can only be won by one.

Warnings: CHARACTER INJURY, LOTS OF BLOOD MENTIONS, GORE, MENTIONS OF BROKEN BONES, MENTIONS OF LOSS OF BODY PARTS (this is the fight you all were waiting for and it won’t be clean), dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, alpha!Taehyung, alpha!Jimin, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, dirty talk, marking, manhandling

A/N: This chapter is brought to you by Seven, Jungkook’s new single that was released a few days ago. Jungkook is entirely responsible for my lust-crazed writing of this chapter. I ask that if you enjoyed it, you please let me know in the comments. The chapter that I wrote and posted last month didn’t do as well as I’d hoped, so please show this one some love. The next update will be out faster the more attention the story gets. Without further ado, please enjoy.

Read the rest of this fanfic here.

The shadow that tails the russet-furred wolf darkens as it descends over Jungkook, who turns quickly to face the new threat seconds before contact.

Reflexively, Jungkook’s own claws lengthen and grow out even more from between his very human fingers, his canines sharpening as they too extend so that they push out from under his lips.

Two glinting rows of teeth are coming for him, but he doesn’t think twice before he ducks under the now airborne wolf. Yoongi’s teeth just barely graze the tip of a hair on your alpha’s head before he lands.

“I should have fucking known you were going to do something like this, you bastard,” Jungkook quips as the hairs on his arms darken and spread like arteries across his flesh while he begins to shift. “You never did play fair.”

When Yoongi tries to pounce once more, Jungkook rolls forward and pivots on his heel, the claws that have enlarged and lengthened between his toes catching at the small pebbles nestled between the soil as a cloud of dirt lifts and circles his form.

Jungkook doesn’t flinch even as the mottled mire sullies his sight, but Yoongi is relentless.

The large russet-furred wolf dips his claws into the dirt, and without pause, shirks it up toward Jungkook’s eyes.

Still crouched with one leg bent under him, it’s all Jungkook can do to shield his eyes from the landslide of black dirt coming for him, one of his arms shielding his eyes from the onslaught of dirt that is barraged his way.

Yoongi starts toward him, but the sound of dark laughter penetrates the air through the black particles that fill it, and even Yoongi pauses. Taehyung stills.

“You think you can beat me? With a little fucking dirt? If this is all you have, Yoongi, this match will be over before it even started, you mangy mutt.”

His words set fire to the opposing wolf’s paws, and again, he sets upon Jungkook with a loud, angry snarl.

Jungkook grabs for a jagged, uneven stone the size of his palm whilst the specks of earth still give him cover and taunts, “Come and get me, you fucker.”

Yoongi dashes fast toward him and instead of running, Jungkook steadies himself. He plants his feet in place where he’s crouched, and when Yoongi’s maw lowers and his teeth point toward Jungkook’s jugular, Jungkook waits, his chest rising and falling in even bouts as concentration lines his face.

He’s patient and lets Yoongi come for him. When the russet-furred wolf is but a foot away, that’s when Jungkook strikes. The stone he’d picked up is driven up and into the bottom of Yoongi’s jaw, the jagged edge piercing bone and tongue before lodging into the underside of his chin and then Yoongi barks in pain. He recoils and lobs his head to this side and that in an attempt to dislodge the rock, but his attempts are fruitless and he stumbles around with no particular direction in mind.

“All that, and I didn’t even need to fucking shift,” Jungkook tsks, “You were just as jejune to battle as Taehyung was.”

Jungkook turns his back to the other wolf who growls furiously at him and again his irises hunt for yours until he’s captured you in his sight.

You want to go to him. Need deluges you in its drift and you whine pathetically for him. He must hear it, because he drags a bloody hand through his hair so that he can display the blood marks you had left there, his muscles flexing as he does and his eyes? They not only reflect your desire, but refract it two-fold when they streak against yours.

Your sex clenches around nothing for the umpteenth time.

You look like you’re ready for me to take you away from here, my love. I may be going through these mutts fast, but I plan on taking my time with you. This is but the first round of it. They call it foreplay, pretty girl. Have you heard of it?

As his voice permeates your mind, you make a sound of pure, utter desperation that the silver around your head, wrists and legs tries to drown, but not even it can quiet you.

Your alpha smirks knowingly, not caring about the shaking, trembling mass of limbs that inches toward him. There’s a pained grunt when that mass of flesh slumps over Jungkook’s feet and when he looks down at Taehyung, who has his tongue bitten between his teeth, he simply arches a brow. “I’m surprised you can even move with so many bones being broken. Your determination really is something to be praised even if your fucking motives are wrong.”

“Wrong as they may be, you made an error yourself, Pack Alpha,” Taehyung drawls, “You may have made me promise my fealty to you, but you never said when. You’re so distracted by a little bit of pussy that you can’t even see straight anymore. And that, Jeon, will be the reason you fucking lose.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, and he easily punts Taehyung onto his back and off of him, but not before the sound of paws thudding against the earth behind him cease. Yoongi vaults over him, the crimson moonlight of the blood moon shirking away from him under Yoongi’s shadow.

Yoongi lands, but both of his hind legs kick upward, the sharp, curved claws of both slicing through Jungkook’s exposed flesh to leave four furious red lines curving diagonally down one side of his chest and another four curling obliquely on the other.

Your throat hurts, but you don’t realize why until your ears start to ring from your own screams.

Jungkook staggers back with the force of the blow, and Yoongi doesn’t let him recover before he has turned and bunted Jungkook with his head so that he’s knocked to his knees.

There’s no time for him to do anything more than that.

Blood spumes and spews forth in a cloudburst of red around the males, and the Pack Alpha’s expression screws up in suffering under the horrible cracking made by the bones of his upper arm that are trapped in the maw of the four legged russet-furred wolf who stands in front of him.

“How does it feel to lose now, Pack Alpha?” Taehyung’s crumpled form on the dirt spasms as he hacks up crimson and snickers cruelly, “Yoongi’s going to bite off your cock, so what will you do then, huh? Is your little rut-mate going to fuck your face the rest of your life? I bet she’ll get tired of your tongue eventually. If Yoongi doesn’t rip that out, too, that is.”

The sharp, pointed teeth that have implanted themselves into Jungkook’s bicep dig further into his flesh and the Pack Alpha groans before he swings with his good arm, his fingers clenching into a fist moments before his hand strikes Yoongi right in the eye.

The russet-furred wolf only lodges his teeth deeper into Jungkook’s flesh as he recoils, and you watch in horror as your alpha’s skin along his upper arm begins to tear and rip from under Yoongi’s unrelenting denticulation.

“I haven’t lost anything, you bitch. The way I see it, this will go one way, and that will end with you both on the fucking ground and me standing over each of you watching,” Jungkook’s voice lowers dangerously, “and relishing in the blood that will leave your pathetic bodies. You can threaten me all you will, but your threats are empty. He bites into his cheek to stave off the pain, “Do not think you can degrade my mate, either. You just earned yourself more fucking pain when I get free from him.” Yoongi growls, and so does Taehyung as he declares through bloodied lips, “My mate will have any part of me she wants when the time comes. It will be her decision when that is. I won’t let either of you take that from her or from me. Not when I’ve waited for her for so long.” Jungkook barks fiercely, “She means more to me than anything you could ever know, not that either of you would understand with how small your fucking brains are. She is the love my life." He scrunches his face in suffering when Yoongi's teeth break more blood vessels. "When she is ready, she will be the mother of my children. I can’t wait for you both to fucking see her when she’s round with my pups. Forever and eternally mine.”

“Bold of you to assume all that seeing as you’re two seconds from having your fucking arm torn off. That arm of yours looks like shit, Pack Alpha.” Taehyung bitterly croaks.

“He could rip my fucking arm off and I still could tear you to pieces, you fucking runt.” Jungkook threatens, his eyes flashing menacingly. “I don’t need two arms to fuck you up.”

Taehyung cowers, his mouth shutting at that.

Jungkook’s eyes fasten themselves to yours and they are quickly cuffed by contrition, his jaw setting and strong masseter muscles flexing to push the sound of pain any wolf would make down as he draws his arm back once again to smite Yoongi in the same place he’d just struck.

Your panic must be souring the air because words knot together in your mind that your mate puts there when he tugs on the bond stringing you to him.

I’m sorry you had to see this, my love. I got distracted. I won’t let it happen again.

In the back of your mind, you know he doesn’t regret anything. Only that you had to witness this.

Never before had anyone managed to put Jungkook on his knees in combat. Not until now.

Yoongi digs his paws into the earth as he swings his massive head back and forth, the action ripping and tearing Jungkook’s flesh like parchment as he continues his assault on Yoongi’s right eye. Crimson pools from Jungkook’s lacerations and, like a waterfall, cascades from the wounds without stoppage.

The world starts to blur, and you only realize you’re crying when a tear falls down your cheek.

In front of you, Jungkook’s chest rumbles and a vibrating sound falls from his lips. Deep, low and dangerous.

He can’t bear the sight of you weeping because of his mistake. It’s more than he can take.

So, he wrests his attention away from you, as difficult as that is, and focuses it on the wolf in front of him.

Any benevolence that had been there is burned away until only malevolence has taken to the hearth of his heart, the whites of his eyes tinging to a violent red as he scathingly narrows his vision on Yoongi with them.

Red begins to taint the world in its color for Jungkook, the anger pounding through his very veins that it was he who had made his omega cry.

“You’re going to regret ever existing by the time I am through with you, you son of a bitch.”

His words are cold as ice, but the heat of a thousand fires roars through his eyes as he stands from his knees, a distorted expression making his lips turn down as Yoongi attempts to jerk and whip his head to one side in attempt to dislodge Jungkook’s arm from its socket.

Pain is melded with fury, and your alpha doesn’t hesitate before he straightens the fingers of his good, free hand, and then impels all five claws between them in the one place that no healer would ever be able to mend.

“Take this, you jackass,” Jungkook snaps.

All five claws plunge into the russet-furred wolf’s right eye and Yoongi bellows loudly in anguish, his maw opening as he falls on his haunches while Jungkook turns and twists his claws harshly through the layers of tissue in Yoongi’s skull, and then the russet-furred wolf is descending to the ground. In the skirmish, he releases Jungkook and Jungkook tumbles to the ground with him.

Crimson rains through the air, and bone now ganders from the open slits and splits in Jungkook’s left upper arm that has rivulets of red that coat and mat the fur that now covers it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Taehyung, who lies feet away from the Pack Alpha, blanches out blood.

“What I should have done long, long ago,” Jungkook grates out, “Yoongi has never been able to see what a real alpha looks like with his own eyes. With the one that will remain, he will never again look upon me without remembering who took that flawed sight from him. And when others see him, they will never unsee the weakness of one who will never be stronger than me.” Jungkook’s injured arm hangs loosely by his side when he glances from it to the other wolf, fury ringing his irises as he furls his fingers in the pliable, weak tissue that his curved claws cut through as easily as a piece of a meat while Yoongi roars in pain, “who will never be wiser than me,” Jungkook’s unguis sever the last layer of nerves nestled deep in the other wolf’s eye socket when he drives a knee down on the wolf’s ribcage like a hammer, the sound of bones breaking underneath him, “and who will never be better than me.” Jungkook takes his other foot and buries it into the earth to steady himself when Yoongi thrashes violently against him.

Jungkook doesn’t even bat an eye at the wounds that have his lifeblood trickling down over his body. He just huffs in irritation.

You don’t know why, but the sight has heat stirring in your core.

Jungkook pushes down against Yoongi’s broken ribs with a snarl, the other wolf’s breath knocked from him when Jungkook shoves him onto his side using his knee. He unforgivingly thrusts the foot it is connected to into the downed wolf’s stomach, his claws piercing the flesh of Yoongi’s stomach as he does.

Yoongi tries to rise, but Jungkook is stronger, even as wounded as he is.

“You really think that these wounds are enough to stop me? I’ve had much worse in my trainings with my father,” Jungkook mocks brutally. “You really are a fucking dumbass to think you could possibly take me in a fight. You’ve never won against me, and you never will.”

Jungkook savagely plucks Yoongi’s eye from its socket and without giving it even a glare, tosses it behind him where it rolls to a rest next to Taehyung, who screws his eyelids shut in perturbation.

“You are a fool, Yoongi,” Jungkook depravedly arcs his good arm down over Yoongi’s exposed side that isn’t pressed against the earth, and his fur and flesh are clawed off of him as Jungkook goes on, “and fools are meant to follow. I will strike you down as many times I need to do until you fucking see that.” The Pack Alpha draws his uninjured arm in the air once more, his blood-soaked claws curving wickedly when he lashes Yoongi with it over and over again across every inch of him that he can reach from his neck to his hind paws.

Somewhere between the seventy-seventh lashing, Yoongi stills, his flailing arms and legs going limp underneath Jungkook’s brutal ministrations.

“Submit to me or I’ll destroy what little part of you will be recognizable to you after this. Don’t, and I’ll make sure to disfigure your face so every morning when you wake and look at your reflection, you shall know only disgust and revulsion,” Jungkook bristles when Yoongi’s lips curl up to display his teeth, “and you shall be plagued when the sun falls and you go to sleep at night and think of all the women and men who will shriek and scream as they stare upon you say ‘dear gods, what is that ugly thing?’”

Yoongi is still as the stone that is still embedded in the underside of his jaw, the blood that has coated it glinting forebodingly in the moonlight.

Taehyung, who lies on his back a little ways away from the pair of wolves chokes up, “He said before the battle that he’d rather fucking have his jaw ripped off than do that.”

“Oh, we can’t have that…that’s too simple.” Jungkook shakes his head, his vision redder than the blood that pools from his wounds as he lifts his good arm and puts it under his chin to consider, “You both have been very, very bad. I think it would be fitting to make certain you are always reminded of what happens when you don’t fucking listen to me,” Jungkook bends over Yoongi and his claws wedge themselves into the flesh covering his ribcage, his nails sharpening so that his fingers can follow his claws as Yoongi’s back bows inward while he goes on, “so that you can never run from your failures and errs that I tried to warn you never to make,” Jungkook’s fingers find one of Yoongi’s ribs and he pulls it hard so that it breaks in half, the air pushed from Yoongi’s lungs as Jungkook’s own bones shift and shape, the hairs along his arms and head spreading like veins over his entire body, “and so that when you look or think to take my mate, my rank, or my life from me ever again, you will remember that this is what is waiting for you should you be stupid enough to try it.”

The last word moves from him as the last of his bones do, and now, he’s black as the night sky in the fur that has covered his body. Strong, muscled legs and arms hold him up and his teeth are longer and bigger than ever before, his claws also enlarged and especially lethal in their new curvature.

The same soft, downy furs that tuft along the crest of his sternum are there where there is a patch of hair that is arranged in a spherical shape resembling the moon in the whitened color of it that mirrors the youthful beams of midnight moonlight. Blood now cakes that little tuft of fur, and it is red with the blood that coats it. More of it drips from his stomach, and his maimed, damaged arm is kept up and away from Yoongi’s open maw.

The first time you’d seen your alpha fully shift, you’d marveled at his beauty. It is no different this time. He is the prettiest creature you’ve ever seen. You’re sure that the gods took their time with him, with both forms of him. He’s stands tall on three of his paws, and he’s fucking massive. He’s three times the size of Yoongi and two times the size of Taehyung, who you’d seen in the forest many months ago.

Perhaps the gods really had their favor in those they crafted.

He’s like an envoy of the gods, really, with the way that he has his weight in his hind legs with his front leg held down over Yoongi, his claws still entrenched into his abdomen like the defeated wolf is part of Jungkook’s own conquest.

Like this, words can no longer leave his lips. But like this, he bares his serrated, edged canines and a rumbling sound is pushed from his throat as he lowers his head toward the downed wolf’s neck.

Yoongi remains quiet, yet defiant in that silence. Taehyung glowers at the sight of Jungkook knowing his doom is imminent.

For Jungkook to shift was for him to be serious about doling out his vengeance or commands. In his imposing size, there was little any wolf could do to resist him.

You’re so caught in it that you don’t even see the alpha who’d been standing watch over you the whole time steps back into the crowd of wolves around you, his feet stopping him when he stands atop the knoll where the three elders presiding over the battle had remained the entire time.

“The Pack Alpha thought this would happen, so he has given me a message for both combatants. May I relay it now, Jungkook?” The tall male that you know to be Namjoon, Jungkook’s second-in-command, asks.

Jungkook doesn’t look away from either of the defeated wolves around him, but he does incline his head in answer.

Namjoon speaks again, “The Pack Alpha’s message is this: Surrender or be dismembered. Bone by bone. He will make it slow, and he will make it painful. And he’ll make sure that neither of you are allowed to die,” Namjoon pauses, his eyes scanning the two fallen wolves for signs of submission before continuing, “You’ll just be left to suffer again and again without pause until you cede to him. He is through with you both, and now you will pay the price for your insubordination.”

“I already su-“ Taehyung’s raspy response isn’t even completed before Jungkook gnarrs threateningly.

Taehyung splutters through blood, “What do you fucking want from me, Jeon?”

Jungkook’s eyes are splintering when he looks from Yoongi to Taehyung and then back to Yoongi. He seems to decide something when his irises linger a little too long on the stone still embedded in Yoongi’s chin that he’d put there earlier.

Without a word, Jungkook withdraws his claws from Yoongi’s abdomen, and the defeated wolf struggles for air through a heaving chest. When Jungkook’s paw hits the ground, his eyes narrow at Yoongi, a silent command being issued from the Pack Alpha to Yoongi.

Yoongi seems to understand, but remains motionless, his only remaining pupil becoming smaller whilst Jungkook’s become larger before blackening in the Alpha’s Bidding he uses on Yoongi.

Blood gushes from the new, dark holes in Yoongi’s side as he struggles to rise, his arms giving out because Jungkook had cut into them so deeply that even the muscle there had been sheared into shreds. Little fur remained on him, and he looked almost as if he’d been skinned with the lack of it.

His front and hind legs shake with the effort of attempting to move, and though resentment lathers the ground in the blood that falls from him, he cannot reject the order that Jungkook had given. He’d lost one eye already. He didn’t wish to lose the other.

After all, no wolf could ignore the Alpha’s Bidding. No alpha, omega, or beta could ignore the command of one who was stronger than they.

It takes him many attempts to lift himself up and stand on his aching legs, but the once russet-furred wolf comes to a shaky stand and with one final look at Jungkook, who gives a nod of confirmation, he treads forth toward the mangled mess of limbs that is Taehyung.

Confusion addles Taehyung’s features as Yoongi comes upon him, the wolf’s eye glassy and glazed over in the state of subservience Jungkook had put him in. He walks unevenly over Taehyung’s body until his mouth hovers over Taehyung’s face.

He can’t even close his mouth with the stone that has pierced his tongue through his lower mandible, and so his spit and drool spatters atop both of Taehyung’s cheeks from either side of Yoongi’s jaws.

Taehyung turns his head, pleading, “Please, Jungkook. I don’t know what you told him, but-“

“Jungkook will not hear any of your pleas, Taehyung,” Namjoon calls out from above them on the knoll that overlooks the battle grounds, his expression indifferent and unchanging as he tells him matter-of-factly, “He said you’d try to bargain your way out of this like you always do, but that nothing you could say would change your fate.” Namjoon doesn’t even stop talking through Taehyung’s loud shriek as Yoongi’s head comes nearer, “He said your tongue would be a good trophy since you seem to think your face will get you anything you want. But I convinced him to be practical and let you keep it so you can apologize and atone for your sins. So, he’s going to give you a different punishment instead. When you stare upon yourself in the mirrors you’re so fond of, the mark of his victory and your defeat will be the ultimate embarrassment for you.” Jungkook watches with anticipation as Namjoon goes on, “One that you will carry with you for the rest of your miserable life. One that no potential mate will be able to look past without acknowledging your serious lack of judgement and absence of ability in combat.”

“No! NO!” Taehyung screams and tries to flee, but his body can’t bear the effort and all he can do is lay in the puddle of his blood as he cries, “Don’t touch me! Stop, Yoongi!”

Yoongi throws his head back, his blood spraying over Taehyung before his neck veers down and in one quick motion, drags the pointed edge of the stone stuck in his chin over Taehyung’s face. It cuts his flesh like it is water where it is lugged from his upper cheek to his brow where the rock catches on the ridge of Taehyung’s brow and slips from Yoongi’s chin to land with a thwap on the ground beside them.

Taehyung flinches, but can’t even lift his arms to cradle the new wound there as Yoongi proceeds to bite and chomp on Taehyung everywhere from his shoulders to his toes. On each hand, Yoongi bites off one of his fingers. He does the same to each of his feet.

Somewhere during it all, Taehyung’s screams are silenced by the blood that clogs his throat. Atop of him, Yoongi’s muscles spasm and with one final heave of air through his lips, he topples and collapses next to Taehyung in a heap of crimson and spit.

All eyes turn to Jungkook, who stalks banefully and perniciously toward the two wolves. The very dirt beneath him parts for him as he does.

He glances from Yoongi to Taehyung, from Taehyung to Yoongi, and then up to Namjoon, another silent conversation exchanged between their eyes and then Namjoon nods.

“The cost of your disobedience and recalcitrance has been paid. Should either of you attempt to challenge the Pack Alpha again, he has stipulated that you will be locked in cages of silver that he will build himself so that he can see personally to your discipline.” Jungkook’s fur begins to wane from his back where some of it retrocedes into his pores, his claws and canines receding as Namjoon talks, his bones popping and cracking until the last of his fur leaves his body to reveal golden skin and a head of dark hair. He’s bare of any clothes, and even though he’s hurt, the sight still has your mouth watering while Namjoon warns, “Should either of you attempt to flee from the pack, he will hunt you down, and he will make you rue the day you were brought into the world.”

The red tinge that had taken over your alpha’s irises has started to fade and, in its wake, his irises grow until they fill the whole of his eyes as he commands, “Neither of you will do anything without direct approval from me from this day forward, and you will both serve me until your dying breath. The very breaths you take from this point on are a gift from me.” The crimson that had colored his eyes ebbs and they are turned the shade of the deepest pit as he orders, “and I will never hear a word or thought that is out of line from either of you, ever again, about my mate. If you so much as speak her name unless she addresses you, I’ll flay you myself. Breathe if you fucking understand.”

Yoongi gives a deflated huff. Taehyung emits a scared squeak.

That seems to satisfy Jungkook, for the blackness ringing his irises shatters around them.

You whine, the pitiful sound causing your alpha’s attention to light upon you through the night. Without casting his vision away from you, he gives a wave of his hand and utters, “Get Min and Kim to the healers. They’ll die if they’re left to bleed out here, Namjoon.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, the familiar gold of his irises singes through the darkness and warms every part of you in it.

“Very well, Pack Alpha,” Namjoon replies, “I shall see to it that the healers do not attend to any wound that isn’t fatal.” The brown-haired male appraises Jungkook for injuries before adding, “I sent some medical supplies to the bathhouse. I had it arranged for you earlier, so you and your mate will have it all to yourselves seeing as how you will not want to be in the medical wing with the others.”

Jungkook thanks him, but before he can even take more than two steps toward you, the nasally voices of the two elders beside your grandmother speak.

“This battle is concluded. Pack Alpha Jungkook has won the right to claim Omega Y/N as his mate. The defeated combatants no longer hold any ability to challenge him for her.” They quiet when your grandmother steps forward, her arm raised toward Jungkook, “Pack Alpha Jungkook, your wounds must be attended to. By right, you may have your omega clean them and wash you before you and she may mate.”

The word has your cheeks turning red even though the silver numbs them.

“I shall have my omega and no one else. Only she may see to me.” Jungkook declares.

“As you wish, Pack Alpha. You must now make your way there. She will join you shortly.” Your grandmother supplies. “You know the tradition. Once an alpha has won an omega, that omega is allowed a little time to prepare herself for him.”

Jungkook’s eyes dip down your body and then he’s licking his lips. “I know the tradition well. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Just don’t let anyone touch her. She’s mine now.”

Your insides get hot under the searing heat of his eyes as he says that.

Your grandmother nods, but he doesn’t see it. He only sees you.

You watch him as he turns, desperation clinging to you like a cloak and you whimper in the hope that he may linger a little longer.

His voice caresses you with the leaves that blow against your skin as his beautiful, bloodied lips move for you. “Bear it for me just a little more, pretty girl. You’ll have me all to yourself in only a short while.”

He disappears among the wolves that crowd around you, and then there are gentle hands that lift your diadem from your head. No one dares to touch your skin, and so the movements are careful in undoing the clasps and clamps securing your wrists and calves. One by one those are taken off of you and with each that leaves you, your senses return to you as if they’d never left. The filter that had been blocking sound from your ears dissipates, the blurriness lens that had obscured your vision disappears, and even the invisible plug that had been blocking your nose is removed as the silver is.

Perhaps the most significant of all is that the insensitivity that had numbed your bones and muscles retrogresses, and you are off and bounding away from the sea of wolves surrounding you as the last of the silver pieces your mate had made for you is put back into its box by Seokjin, who smiles at Namjoon when the pair of mates share a knowing glance.

You bolt past the stage your mate had danced for you on and even the fire of the braziers set upon and around it are winded at your speed as he dash without pause toward your waiting mate.

You charge on, your hands gripping the skirt of your gown as you run through the grassy walkways leading toward the schoolhouse you had taught the pups for so many years at, the dining hall you’d frequented rarely in all the studying you’d had to spend your nights doing, the elder’s den that you’d often had to visit your grandmother in to be tested on the codes and edicts of the pack and its traditions. You pass the omega and alpha dens for unmated wolves that are on the adjoining side where you had had to live for much of your life.

You don’t even pay attention to the circular arrangement of shops that range from the clothier to the carpenter’s. You do, however, slow to a stop when you spot the blacksmith’s parlor that is nestled between the leather maker’s store and the trinket crafter’s place.

What little free time you did have when you were younger, you would watch this place from a distance, your sight set on the male that used to work behind the windows. You’d used to get frustrated trying to see him through the females that tried to horde the place, but you’d had Niva to thank for the telescope that she’d given you so that you could.

The blacksmith that worked there…he was now yours. The thought has you running once again, your heart panging with affection for him as your feet carry you through the night.

On the edge of the compound, past all the merchant’s circle you’d just been, beyond the dens and adjacent constructions so critical to the pack, there you find what you had been looking for.

Like everything else in the compound, it is of a wood make, but unlike everything else in the compound, it is a darker wood. There are windows on every side, but bloodred curtains have been pulled together to hide its interior. The small rectangular junctions in the area above it are also bordered with glass and are free of any obstructions to admit natural light within.

Two rows of timber wolves are perched out front and face each other, and above the massive double set of doors, an entire oaken sculpture of a wolf is affixed to the archway above the doors. Like everywhere else in the compound, light hangs from braziers affixed to metal chains that hang from the overhead.

You don’t hesitate before pushing the doors open, the aged wood creaking and groaning from the effort of admitting you before closing behind you as you release your skirts and look for who you’d come to see.

Your feet plop against wood, and unlike outside, the inside is lit by the soft firelight of lanterns of all makes and sizes that are propped against the walls, the dancing flames within covered by glass.

Ahead of you, there are twelve smaller, circular pools cut into the wood that are filled with water clear as crystal. To your left and right, there are two large basins of water ovular in shape that span from the entrance of the bathhouse all the way to the back of it.

You venture deeper into the bathhouse, but don’t see any sign of your alpha. You eye the doorway in the very back, the glow of flames brightening it as it moves and the strong scent of your alpha wafting under your nostrils amidst the steam that fills the bathhouse.

You continue on, your thighs wetting when you let your alpha’s scent drift under your nostrils. You don’t bother calling his name. You know he’s here. You know he waits for you.

You cross under the arch cut into the wall above you and finally you find him.

He’s standing inside a smaller pool of water that has long since turned a deep red from the blood that has tainted it.

He’s got his back to you, one uninjured, but blood-streaked hand rubbing at the flesh along his shoulder where angry, raised skin is torn and ripped open and the arm it is connected to hangs limply by his side.

“Alpha…” You fall to your knees just outside the pool, your eyes burning as tears start to trail down your cheeks as you call for him again, “My alpha. My mate.”

Your alpha turns slow, his eyes attaching to yours quickly as he utters, “Omega,” he reaches for you with his good arm and you lean into his touch as he cups your cheek, “My omega. How happy I am to see you. Did you miss me?”

“You know I did, Jungkook,” You tell him earnestly, your hand covering his as you blink through the tears, “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. If it weren’t for me-“

“I would do it all over again if it got me this,” Jungkook’s thumb slides along the edge of your jaw, “if it brought me to you.”

Your heart throbs at that.

“But… but you’re in pain. You’re hurt because of me.” You cry as your eyes linger on the incensed, inflamed flesh of his chest where he now dons scratches that sob with you. They are not as deep as you had initially thought, but beads of blood collect along it before hurling down his chest. It is his arm that took the most damage, for the muscles there are split and frayed to the point that his bone is visible.

“I have had far worse as I told you before, my love.” Jungkook coaxes you forward, your hands coming down to the edge of the pool to support your weight as he sinks shoulder-deep into the water, “This is nothing I cannot handle. I would take many more scars onto my body if it meant you would come to me. If it meant you would be all mine,” the blood is tugged from his wounds in his movement and dragged about his form through the water as he lifts his chin and brings yours to him. You let him guide your lips to his, not caring that the blood of the downed wolves he’d taken down for you still lingers there. He mouths, “Never forget that.”

He’s gentle with you and so different from the male you’d seen minutes ago. The warmness has returned to his eyes, and looking at them is like looking at the sunrise. Calming. Peaceful. Beautiful.

Emotion swells within you, and you can do little to quell it.

“I don’t,” you sniffle under his lips, “deserve you.”

“You do deserve me,” Jungkook’s pink tongue departs from his mouth to lick at a stray tear that travels down your cheek, “And you shall have me always. I’m yours now just as you are mine, pretty girl.”

“I…I love you, Jungkook,” you whisper against his lips.

“And I you, Y/N,” Sincerity hangs onto his words before he closes the distance between you, “I’m going to show you what devotion is,” he parts his lips, the hot muscle of his tongue pushing against your mouth and you open your own for him as he promises, “I’m going to show you how much deeper than an ocean it is,” his tongue is unhurried in its journey to map out your mouth as he breathes, “And night after night, I will love you right.”

Desire awakens inside you at his words, your oncoming heat making it difficult to think past that now that he’s here in your arms.

He leaves you breathless and gasping with his passionate professions, and when your mouths disconnect in need of air, you nudge at his nose to pant, “Y-you already do, alpha.” You brush your lips across one of his cheeks and then over his nose, and then over to the other cheek. “You have been for quite a while now. Now, I want to do something for you to show my dedication to you. Your mouth caresses his skin as you drag your lips downward toward his neck, his own lips trying to follow yours as he turns his head toward you and then you ask, “Will you let me?”

Your alpha hardens at your confession.

“What is it you want me to give you permission to do, omega? You know I’ll let you have anything in my power to give,” He tells you, his tongue slipping from his mouth to flatten along your scent gland that throbs for him along the side of your throat as he hungrily laps up the oils you produce there. At the sensation of the hot muscle against your flesh, you can’t help but to release the rest of the pheromones you’d been trying to hold in, slick dampening your thighs. The moment you do, he curses, his eyes rolling back, “Fuck…you taste and smell even better than before. Did my brief absence make you yearn for me this much? Or is it your heat? It must be all but upon you now. Tell me what you want and it will be yours, omega.”

“I…I want to take care of you, alpha. Will you,” you swallow, and try again, “Will you let me clean you up so that you can take me away from here?” You nudge at the throbbing gland along his own neck.

Jungkook groans and presses forward toward you, but that little movement has him grimacing from the punctures arcing across his abdomen as he releases you to steady himself by putting each of his own hands along the rim of the pool, a cloud of fresh of blood darkening the water as it pours from his wounds. Suddenly the heat flaring in your belly is chilled by the cold realization that he suffers now.

Suffering that you had been the cause of.

Your omegean instinct kicks in as your omega harks insistently, the need to take care of him overriding your earlier desire and snapping you out of the spell of lust that had briefly taken over you.

You rise to get the metal tray of vials of all different colors and textures, dark bottles of balms and medicinal solutions, wash towels, gauze, and cloth wrappings that had been left on the timbered table that has several lanterns with red, hot flames burning in them.

“Hold on, alpha. I’ll make this right.” You vow as you assemble what you need onto the tray. “I read about how to clean and properly tend to afflictions such as these when I was little. Let me dress your wounds, and then we can go from there, okay? I want to mend you. I want to make you better.”

There’s the sloshing of water as your alpha ascends the steps out of the now blood-soaked pool, and then a strong arm encircles your middle, your breath hitching when warm breath billows over the back of your neck as he offers, “Make it right, then, omega. I’m eager to see how good you are with your hands.” Beneath his hand, butterflies flit through your belly. “Now where do you want me, pretty girl?”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #bts #bts smut #alpha!jungkook #alpha jungkook x omega reader #possessive!jungkook #dom!jungkook #bts writing #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts lemon #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #werewolf!jungkook #bts abo

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 months

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common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 2

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

common grounds masterlist

“You what?”

“Keep your voice down!” Osha hissed at her sister. She didn’t like to come into the cafe on her days off, but she’d slept through the opportunity to talk to Mae this morning before she left. And this was a conversation that couldn’t wait. “Listen, who is he? He said he knew you!” Mae’s face couldn’t hide her thoughts, not from the one person who shared it. Osha knew she was about to lie, so she grabbed her wrist. “Don’t even try to wiggle out of this.”

“What happened to your wrist?!” she gasped, shifting the subject to her sister’s annoyance.

“It—blame Huyang.” Osha pointed to the espresso machine in question. “Tell Yord to ease up on pulling shots; it’s not as sturdy as he thinks.”

“Yeah, I saw your note this morning.” Mae sighed. “But… he came in while you were working on it?”

Osha nodded but didn’t offer any other information—not about his little rescue, or how he held her arm so tenderly while he patched her up. “I guess I need to be better about locking the front.”

“Did the cameras catch him coming in?”

It was a complete left turn of a question, putting Osha on high alert. “What? I mean, probably. He wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Mae didn’t look like she believed that. “Don’t let him in next time.”

“Give me an actual reason, and maybe I will.”

“Can’t you just trust me?” Her voice came out stressed, not scared but also not at ease. Osha sighed, not wanting to concede.

“I do trust you, you know that. But the whole situation was strange, and I’d feel better if you just told me what you know.”

“Okay. I will. But not right now.” Mae’s voice dropped a little. “Not here.”

“I can’t tell if you’ve just been hiding a boyfriend or if I should be actually concerned.”

Mae laughed, but it sounded hollow and unconvincing. “He is not a boyfriend. He’s possibly the anti-boyfriend.”

Mae had none of the flustered attitude Osha remembered suffering from last night. It made her doubt herself for a moment. Was her spark of attraction to the stranger so outlandish? Best not to mention it.

“Okay, then. I’m off today and I know you’re closing, so you had better have a good story for me by dinner.” Osha adjusted the strap of her gym bag, pushing off the counter and toward the gym proper.

“No promises!” Mae called after her.

Temple Gym seemed rather empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of day. Perhaps the recent conversation with the mysterious stranger drew Osha’s attention, but the low volume of people in classes and the rings seemed more noticeable today. It wasn’t like the gym was at risk of going out of business or anything, but each day, it looked like more teachers than students were in the training rooms.

“Keep your elbows in! Hands up!” The repeated thwack-thwack of gloves smacking training pads was as familiar to Osha’s ears as her sister’s voice. She recognized the trainer holding up the mats, Indara, and kept her head down as she strode past the ring. “Cutting it close, Osha!”

Damn it.

“Overslept, sorry!” She didn’t jog, as that would imply she wanted to run away from something, but she lengthened her strides a bit more to eat up the distance between this conversation and Training Room A.

Several students were there already, mid-warmup stretch. “Look who showed up,” Fillik teased from the floor. Osha resisted the urge to drop her bag on top of his head and got to work, taping her left ankle up as fast as possible.

“Do not let haste spoil your efforts,” a kind, but authoritative voice chided. Osha smiled sheepishly up at Sol and undid the last few passes of her wrap job. “Oftentimes,” he continued, “patience is the difference between injury and otherwise.”

“Yes, coach,” the room intoned. Osha’s face burned. Was she just unable to escape even a moment of chastisement today?

“Today, we will work on keeping your balance. Round one will be fifteen minutes of the following…” Osha fell into the usual routine of class, appreciating the burning in her lungs and thighs but forcing herself not to feel the pain in her ankle through some of the jump exercises. The injury was nearly six years old, but every time the weather was remotely bad, like clockwork, the usual ache would set in and twinge her gait a little.

I really need to get my car out of the shop.

“Mae—I mean Osha! Focus!”

A flash of irritation hit her like a gust of hot air. Sol was her dad and he couldn’t even tell them apart with any consistency.

How’d you know I wasn’t Mae when you walked in?

I just knew.

This random stranger, who knew Mae enough to recognize that Osha was not her, could tell them apart better than their dad.

She fueled that energy into her hips as she beat the heavy bag with laser-like focus. The impacts reverberated through her wrists, stinging the small burn with every hit. She lost herself in the trance of training, and it wasn’t exactly peace she found, but something more like clarity.

That was the difference between her and Mae; Osha could never find the serenity that came from repetition and effort. Whenever she got deep enough in training, she achieved something like a runner’s high that stayed with her most of the rest of the day. She felt as though she never had to cool down from it, or even stop. She’d never been pushed to the limits of her stamina, full of too much energy and determination to quit. It made her restless. The odd jobs Vernestra had her doing around the building were just enough to keep her from going out of her mind.

But she knew she had an example to set as the daughter of one of the best trainers in the gym. It’s why Indara still called her on her lateness even after six years out of competition, and why Sol was still so quick to offer critique in her footwork. Sol had a reputation to uphold, and Osha wouldn’t be the one to besmirch it.

“Are you alright?” Sol asked as she held a deep hamstring stretch in the cooldown. “Your wrist.”

“Oh, yeah. Old Huyang was giving me trouble last night. It’s nothing.”

“I’m sure it didn’t feel very nice striking the bag as hard as you did. May I see it?”

“Sol, c’mon, I’m fine.”

“Humor me.”

She undid the tape, revealing the angry line of shiny, pink skin across her wrist. “It won’t scar,” she assured Sol. He’d fretted so much after surgery on her Achilles, more concerned with the state of the scar than she was. Osha had let him, because it was something to pass her days in traction.

“Letting a burn breathe is important to prevent infection.” There was hardly a conversation with Sol where he didn’t attempt to impart some knowledge or wisdom.

“I’ll get it washed up before I go to lunch.”

On her way out of the gym, Mae stopped her.

“I can tell you more tonight, but really, steer clear of that guy if you see him again. He’s got anger issues a mile wide, and he’s… he’s a real butthead, Oshie. I don’t think he even knows how to make friends if his life depended on it. So… staying away from him is probably for the best. Please.”

“Well, it’s not like I was setting out to find him in the first place, so I think you can rest assured I won’t see him again. Besides, anybody my sister thinks is a real butthead doesn’t deserve my manners anyway.”

That assertion (and the espresso machine) lasted all of ten hours.

The text felt like a direct attack. Every time Yord did something wrong at the bar that needed Osha’s intervention, Jecki would send the same photo: Yord on his first day working at the shop, one hand in a thumbs-up and the other on a portafilter attached to an espresso machine on fire.

O: You’re joking

O: Please tell me you’re joking

J: I wish I were.

O: It’s been LESS THAN A DAY

J: To be fair, he wasn’t on shift for ten whole hours.

O: Nothing about this seems fair

O: I’ll be there at close

J: I owe you BIG! :)

Which led to here.

“YORD FANDAR!” Osha screamed at the espresso machine. It echoed through the empty cafe and the gym beyond. Not even the trainers stuck around after closing when the central heating was turned off for the night.

Giving in to temptation, Osha smacked her head against the espresso machine a few times. She’d been here a while. The fucking left group head had fused to the portafilter basket. Yord had been so violent with attaching the portafilter that the basket was now lodged in there, rendering half the damn machine inoperable since 4 p.m. when he decided to inform his shift manager of his fuckup. The clock on the register glared 21:33 in little red digits.

“These parts don’t—ngh!—actually—fucking—touch!” Osha squealed when she flew to the side, landing on her ass with the filter basket in her hands. The backflushed water from the machine gushed from the group head, left over from earlier that afternoon. She threw her hands in the air, laughing in victory. “Yeah!”

“That’s quite the technique you’ve got there.”

“Shit!” Osha flinched back, slapping her hand against one of the fridges below the counter. “You—?!”

Sure enough, the stranger stood on the other side of the counter. Looking up at him from the floor, he looked even more imposing than he’d been in her memory—that lasting image of the stranger silhouetted in the snow had grown into a certain kind of dark fantasy that she’d been unable to shake.

“Surprise?” he said, lips wrapping into a cocky sort of smirk that incensed her as much as it thrilled her. “Saw the lights were on again!”

She got to her feet, a determined scowl on her face. “Okay, I know for sure that I locked the door tonight, so how did you get in here?”

His hands went up. “Okay, I’ll admit, I heard you scream, saw you fall, and I freaked out a little. The lock isn’t broken, if that’s your concern. Are you alright, Osha?”

Shit, she must have hit her head or something, because her name never sounded better than when he said it.

Wait, no no no. Don’t be polite, remember he’s a butthead.

“I’m fine. Do you want a coffee?”

NO!! That’s worse!

The stranger looked confused for half a moment but shrugged. “If you’re offering. I’ll even pay this time.”

Okay, this she could work with. “Yeah, okay. I just gotta—ugh, Yord.” She looked down and realized the puck of espresso had broken into a million gross wet pieces… all over her. “I will be right back, I need to change.”

“I’ll be here!”

Her bag was right near the door, and the locker room was clear across the gym… It couldn’t hurt. Osha stepped around a dividing wall between the gym and the cafe, stripping off her gross coffee-shirt the moment she could.

She heard rustling around the corner and poked her head back, new shirt clutched to her chest. “What are you doing?”

The stranger was in the cleaning supplies closet. “Paying ahead. I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Please.” His smile was so genuine and patient. “I don’t want you to stay late on my account. It’s a Friday.”

“I’m not missing much,” she said. Mae had sent a text saying she was going to dinner with some school friends across the bay, so her interrogation would have to wait another day.

Osha ducked back behind the wall to keep changing. But when she pressed her shoulders to the cold brick, she found she didn’t want to end this moment too quickly. “Have you worked in a cafe before?”

“Not exactly. I had a lot of part-time jobs in school. Food service was never something I committed to for long, though. Couldn’t stand coming home sticky. I prefer teaching and training.”

“So you’re a teacher?” Maybe Mae met him at one of her night classes…

“Oh, I’d like to be.”

“What do you want to teach?”

“I mean, teach what you know, right? For me that’s mostly fighting, but also sports science. Injury prevention and treatment.”

Osha’s heart plummeted. Once, she toyed with the idea of studying the same—in the blur of devastated angry months following her injury. To learn the why and the what if of her daily pain out of spite. But then her grief had spiraled into numb days of sorrow and half-assed physical therapy until she could force herself back into class workouts.

“That’s a great field for a fighter to be in.”

“I’m glad you agree, Osha.”

No words passed for a while, both of them just still and listening to one another with a wall between them. “Do you still fight?”

He laughs. “Sometimes.”

“Boxing?”

“Absolutely not.” The chill in his voice rivaled the chill in the gym. Osha shrugged on her other shirt and zipped up her jacket for good measure.

The stranger was just putting away the wet broom when she returned, rolling down the mats again after. How the hell had he mopped so fast?

“Oh, wow.” She blinked at the floor in surprise.

“Efficiency is an underutilized talent. Some people only see you rush, not caring that you did it all correctly.” His black hoodie still covered a lot of his body language, but the hunched curl of his shoulders must have been for her benefit. Most women didn’t want men looking over them, even if it was just good posture.

“So how do you fight, if you’re not boxing?”

“However I want,” he shrugged. “Capoeira. Jiu-jitsu. Kendo. Arnis. I’d rather be a jack of all trades than master of one. Traditional boxing is bogged down in a thousand little rules and pieces of etiquette that take the teeth out of what real fighting is. It’s just domesticated violence that forgot its history was built by lions.”

Osha back-flushed the machine a few times while he spoke, idly checking the dirty water. Then, she loaded a double into a new basket while she processed what he said. He didn’t seem bothered by her quiet demeanor. Sometimes silence was as important as its inverse in a conversation.

“And what would you say real fighting is, then?”

He waited until she looked him in the eye to say, “Bloodsong.”

“What?”

“We are animals, with animal instincts that have been honed over thousands of years to make fire, build cities, have families. But there come times for each of us where primal instinct drives us—when your life is threatened; when what you want is at risk of being lost. Then, all the blood in your body comes singing through your ears in a mix of adrenaline and panic, and you know one truth: only the strongest survive—that is the bloodsong.

“To dull that edge with rules, to quiet that song with tradition, is to glaze over the jagged history of how we got here—to cities and families and fire. But respecting the razor’s edge of instinct, and teaching yourself to hear the song, those things are what set lions apart from house-cats.”

Osha couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes, the seriousness in his tone. Tonight, he’d only put on the guise of the bumbling fool for a minute before dropping it in favor of… this. Was this his real self? His philosophies were the very opposite of what Osha had been taught.

“You don’t think it’s a privilege to be able to practice fighting as a sport?” she said, deflecting and putting together a cortado on impulse. The steamed milk would provide a literal smokescreen between them that she could hide behind.

“It’s more theatre than fighting.”

“It’s called a martial art for a reason.”

“A good point,” he allowed, nodding his head. The intensity of his look had softened a little, but the fire in his eyes blazed true. “But those are all just pretty words to soften a blow. I prefer not to pull my punches in any sense.”

SHHHHHHH—

Osha breathed out shakily as she worked through the sudden din of machinery. The stranger accepted his drink without picking up the thread of conversation, leaving her to ponder it. This is what I am, his silence declared. You should not try to change me.

“My sister all but called you an asshole when I asked who you were,” Osha said at long last, once the silence had soured.

He rotated his drink in his hand, considering it and smirking wider. “No she didn’t.”

“She did.”

“Your sister doesn’t swear.”

“Okay, she called you a ‘real butthead.’ That’s basically the same thing.”

He chuckled and took a sip. “Mm. Cortado?”

“Figured you wanted another two-shot deal, Mr. Power of Two.”

“It’s a good choice,” he says, inclining his head to her in thanks.

Osha quickly scrubbed down and reset the machine for the night before shutting it down. Before she rounded the bar, he handed her a ten. “I told you I’d pay.”

Rather than hemming and hawing her way around it, she took the bill and dropped it in the tip jar. He rolled his eyes a bit, but didn’t drop the smile.

“Where do you train?” Osha asked once they approached the door. It’s a familiar pose for them: standing in front of the shop door with nothing but streetlights on their faces.

“Wherever I want.”

“So shifty! What are you, like a vigilante gym rat?”

“I think your trainers would call me a brawler. They like to think there’s no place for NHB fighters.”

“NHB?”

“No Holds Barred.” The term sent a frisson through her skin, that razor sharp thrill of danger he’d been talking about. Just the name was enough to excite.

“Then how did you learn?”

“I had to, in order to survive.”

A few minutes later, he held the door for her and stood a few steps back as she locked up.

“Mae also told me to stay away from you. I wonder why.”

“Mae has her own reasons to dislike me. You should find some on your own.” It sounded like an invitation. She didn’t respond to it, just walking down the street in the direction of her apartment complex.

They crunched through the snow on the quiet street in silence. Several bars they passed had music thumping within, soft yellow glows bleeding out onto the sidewalks. “You’re not following me home, are you?” Osha asked, very aware of the bear spray in her bag.

“I live this way too. Why, are you following me home?” The goofy smile had returned, and Osha saw it for what it was: a mask.

She shook her head and leaned on a pole as they waited for a crossing signal. She gently tried to stretch the pain out of her Achilles, but the cold limited her range of motion.

“Your ankle alright?”

“It’s just tight this time of year.”

“How are you resting it?”

“The usual way,” she sighed.

“How often do you do isometric exercises instead of just working on it in class?” She was startled by the question a little. It must have shown on her face, because he followed it up with, “I’m a sports scientist. If it helps, you can think of it as professional curiosity.”

That’s right. “Oh, um. Well I stopped PT after a year off crutches, and I was told class training, normal training is what’s best for me…”

“I mean no offense, but isn’t boxing how you got your injury in the first place?”

“Yeah, but—”

“That might be as effective as putting steel around a wooden pencil with broken lead inside.” The light turned green.

“Then what do you recommend?” She was expecting him to say something like come train with me, come to my house, let me do it right for you, but she was proved wrong.

“Isometric exercises, building out full range of motion. I’m sure you still have your old PT records, follow those exercises about thirty minutes a day. Don’t worry about muscle tone or whatever. Take a few days off from classes and understand where your pain is. Numbing yourself to it only hides it when you’re trying to get rid of it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. But that’s just my advice. Follow it, don’t. You’re not a client, I won’t be disappointed if you ignore it, Osha. I’m going this way, so…” he put a thumb over his shoulder. It gave her a choice: follow him and continue the conversation, whatever path it might lead down, or head home to where she’s safe.

As thrilling as the night would have been to go with him, she didn’t even know his name. And perhaps there was something wrong with her, because she didn’t ask for it. It preserved the mystery, the clandestine kind of air about them. She wanted more of it, to be sure, but breaking the ice too early would be unsatisfying.

“I’ll see you around.”

He looked delighted by her answer. “You can count on it.”

CHAPTER 3

#unhingery #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #osha x qimir #the acolyte #the acolyte fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #common grounds

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maevethewerepuppy · 1 year

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Puppy HRT - Part 5: Continuing Growth

A/N: Okay so I didn't intend to write over 2600 words for this chapter, so I cut this part down to 1800 including a small section from Kara's perspective. Gonna use the remaining words for the next part of this little series.

-Mae

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

A growl escaped my throat, a deep guttural sound that filled the room as I tore the fabric apart with my teeth. I panted as I released the object from my mouth, running my tongue over the lengthening canines in my mouth. My teeth had grown sharper and canines more prominent over the last few weeks.

“What are you doing out here?” Kara came around the corner in a bit of the rush. My growl must’ve been louder than I expected as she had been editing parts from her stream for a highlight reel. My ears flicked up on the small rotors in the implants on the top of my head as I heard her steps approaching. The new implants were a wonder to behold. The two-pointed ears had begun to feel more like my ears than the ones I had been born with, aided by the noise-cancelling earplugs I almost permanently wore in them. The hypersensitive microphones in the canine ears helped focus my mind onto new feelings and emotions I could express with them, along with the touch sensors that ran through nearly every part of the ears and right to my brain. I could feel even the slightest breeze on them now. And especially the feeling of Kara’s fingers right against the base of them when she gave me scritches. My new tail was equally as sensitive, with it uncontrollably moving with my subconscious emotions and thoughts. It wagged, tucked and moved so fluidly that in the week or so since the day at the pet store, it was almost natural to have the fluffy appendage move around without thought.

I looked over at Kara with the little stuffed bunny’s top half still hanging off one of my teeth by a thread.

“Hailey! No! I just bought you that one!” She exclaimed exasperatedly, rushing over to pick up the pieces of the toy. My tail wagged eagerly as she looked over what I’d done. I knew she’d be upset for a moment, but she’d forgive me. She always told me I was too rough with the new toys ever since my teeth started to bother me as they grew in properly for a healthy puppy-girl. She knelt, putting it down and pulling my head into her hands, “Hailey. C’mon, we talked about this. You need to stop chewing on the toys that aren’t meant for it!”

“But it’s so much fun! Fabric is so much nicer to pull apart!” I protested, huffing as I looked into her eyes.

“Yeah well, you keep it up and I’m gonna have to put the muzzle back on! You know how much you hate that!”

My ears flicked back at that and tailed stopped wagging. It pulled back in against my body at the idea of the muzzle, and I shook my head slightly. “No! Not the muzzle! Please, no!”

“Then stop being such a bitey girl.” She huffed right back at me, scratching the back of my head right up to behind my fluffy pastel blue ears. I melted right into it and those worries melted out of my head. That tingly buzz replacing those thoughts as she gave me that gentle touch.

“Okaaaaay…”

“Good puppy.” She gave me another pet on the head, “You keep being good for the rest of the night, and you can come cuddle me for a bit before bed, okay? We have a big day tomorrow.”

I tilted my head in response, trying to recall what tomorrow had in store. It’d felt harder and harder to pay attention to which days were which now. I’d try to think about things that were upcoming, but I could barely remember what Kara said she was going to have for dinner that evening. My ears flopped to the side with the tilt, adding to the confused puppy look I was giving her. “What’s tomorrow?”

“You don’t remember? It’s the day we start with new hypnosis files. We’ve had you on the puppy behavioral ones for so long now, I know it’s become second nature,” She informed me, giving some more light scritches and tilting my head back upright, “But we need to start getting you deeper in. You are going to be a good girl for me, and not fight me on this right?”

I wanted to open my mouth and protest, but I kept it closed and nodded. I was really not looking forwards to any more files, the idea of becoming more dog-like was still terrifying. But I was also backed into a corner at this point. With the implants, and how far along in the HRT process I was, there was little chance that it could be reversed at this point. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared of losing my humanity. Remembering that gave me the courage to speak up, however. “I… I don’t know, Kara… This all still feels like a lot, are you sure it’s necessary…?” I asked, my voice weak as I looked into her eyes, “I mean… Maybe we should see if the regular HRT process would still work, and we can- “

“Shush now.” She silences me with a soft kiss on the lips. My heart fluttered and eyes went wide for a moment before I found myself kissing back. She gently bit my lip as she pulled away, “I’m certain puppy. Just accept it, okay? You’ll be a lot happier if you aren’t fighting the changes the whole way.”

“I’m… I’m still just a bit unsure, Kara…” I protested softly, even as my face heated and turned a bright shade of red from the kiss, “Giving everything up… I’m so nervous… What about my family, friends…?”

She gave a soft laugh. Even before the ears made me hypersensitive to noises, her laugh was always magical and made my heart flutter in a way that softened me. Kara took my hands in hers, and squeezed them softly, “Oh puppy. They know. All of them know. I’ve been sharing your progress, and they’ve been sending me nothing but praise for you. Your online friends have been super understanding why you haven’t been around. Don’t worry.”

“Y-you what? You’ve been sharing this?”

I think the mortified expression on my face was a funny one for her, as she just giggled more at me. “It’s okay puppy! Don’t worry that pretty little head about it, okay? You just worry about being a good girl for me, and that’s it.” She gave me another scritch before standing back up. “Now make sure you eat all your food and drink your bowl full of water. I want you to be nice and satisfied for your new files tomorrow.”

-Kara

Hailey was laid out on my bed while I quickly connected the cables from my computer directly into her ear implants. I could tell she was nervous; her tail was tucked up between her legs and she was constantly giving little whimpers. I just kept giving her reassurances in my softest voice, followed by the gentle touch of my fingers right behind her ears as I finished hooking them up. The benefit of them over even the earbuds that she’d worn during those early days was that I could ensure that even the most intense files (which included implant stimulation triggers and deepeners) would be put directly into her mind. I just needed to upload them, and I didn’t fully trust the wireless process to not cut out due to some technical issue and leave her dropped halfway through a training session.

“It’s okay puppy. Just relax and be good for me. Listen close.” I told her, giving a soft touch to her nose as I spoke. She gave a small flinch, something I still worried about with her. She wasn’t used to loving or gentle touch, and every little movement was a shock to her system. Hailey looked up at me and nodded, her eyes filled with worry.

“It’s… It’s too late for me to go back right…?” She asked me again, and I nodded softly. I felt bad for lying to her about it, but at this point I was committed. She was so scared, panicked and shut off as a person. I just knew she’d be so much happier as my committed dog.

“Too late to go back now, Hae. But it’s okay. I’m going to be right here to take care of you.” I promised her. That last part was true at least. She was just so precious to me now; I wouldn’t back out of taking care of her. Over the last couple of months, we’d grown so much closer and I doubted I could ever go back to having that quiet, lonely roommate who made my heart break every time I saw her.

I turned, and clicked the play button on the file, and watched my puppy’s eyes close as she relaxed. From what I’d read about, these files directly from Whyte Wolfworks were some of the best and would start really pushing her down the path I wanted. They were an intense mix of pleasure, obedience, and sexual state training. Slowly breaking down all those repressed ideas that had been built up during her first puberty and through her adolescence and bringing them out again.

It was just… So perfect. Looking over her sweet body, naked except that black hoodie I could never seem to fully train her out of wearing no matter how much I’d tried. But the rest of her clothes - pants, shirts, underwear, socks - were all gone now. Washed and sent to a donation center. She’d not even noticed when I did that a few weeks back. But I had to admit, seeing her in that sweater and wearing her pretty trans flag collar was so sweet. She’d barely even resisted when I’d made sure to use the small lock built into the buckle to make sure she couldn’t take it off without permission. The only times I’d let her so far were showers, and I hadn’t noticed her trying to take it off yet.

Yesterday’s little dispute was the first time in weeks that I’d seen some of that fear of what was happening to her come back out again, and I was so scared that she’d accidentally snap herself out of pup-space completely. Thankfully following Wolfwork’s guidance on dealing with issues like this and focusing her attention on her sensation of touch had helped and dropped her back down into that beautiful state of dumbed-down trust.

I glanced back after a few minutes of getting lost in thought at Hailey, watching as those two fluffy ears twitched and flicked with sounds only heard inside her head. Her tail relaxing against the bed with the rest of her muscles as the file played. I glanced back at the name – “Ownership Obedience and Scent Affirmation Training, Module 1 - with a soft smile, satisfaction filling me as I imagined how she’d be at the end of the day.

I reached over once again to her head and gave her twitching ears a gentle rub. “Good girl. You are going to love this so much.”

#puppygirl #pet pl4y #bd/sm pet #puppyposting #pet pl@y #dumb puppy #hypnokink #kink story #petpill #creative writing #trans nsft #queer nsft #bd/sm kink #suggestive

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spider-silk · 1 year

Text

I do not make sense to myself

But think I’ll try

To make sense to you

If I had to illustrate my gender

I’d draw them as seasons

Winter is bitter and beautiful

The cold soaks into the bone

Calling attention to

The breadth of my shoulders, the width of my rib cage, the square of my hip bone

I wrap myself in layers, I square my shoulders, and stand taller, and lengthen my stride

Spring, to me, is the midway point between winter and summer

It exists on a sliding scale

Where early spring is more bone cold with a taste of summer

But there are times when both exist together in equal measure

Summer is vitality and the sheer force of life

It sparks under the skin and moves me to dance

I strip off the last layers of winter and allow the punishing heat to soak into my skin

I can’t keep my hands off my waist

And lastly there is autumn

My autumn is not summer or winter

Or a combination of both

It is entirely beholden to itself

Mysterious, and utterly unique

It cannot be understood

And it doesn’t want to be

My seasons are not fixed and constant

They come and go as they please

Sometimes existing together

And sometimes not existing at all

if I had to try and put my sexuality into words

I’d say it’s like being adrift on a vast ocean

the surface of the water is placid

underneath it’s alive with change and brutality and beauty

I am fascinated by the ocean

I do not have a particular desire to swim in it

I wait on my raft for a predator to breach the surface and drag me under

I wait for the siren to sing her haunting song

and call me to my watery grave

but all the predators are sleeping

and the sirens hold their tongues

and I’m still adrift at sea

If I were to try to explain my relationship to romance

I would say it’s like my relationship to the stars

Perhaps one day my name will be called from above

And I’ll feel compelled to ascend to the heavens and make my home among constellations

on that day I think I’ll go willingly yet

I have no true desire to leave earth

I am rooted to the unforgiving ground

to the everlasting now

I don’t think of myself as unlucky or cursed

the brilliance of the night sky is

best observed on earth, where the grass is plush and green

And the cicadas sing sweet

I do not make sense to myself

except maybe I do

a little

#I wrote this while falling asleep so I can’t speak for the quality #gender fluid #nonbinary #non binary #aroace #aromantic #aromantism #asexual #asexuality #graysexual #greysexual #demiromantic #nature is so queer and trans talk to the wall #also this is entirely about my experience and #relationship to queerness outside of labels #poetry #or whatever passes for it

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bomberqueen17 · 2 years

Text

sewing updates etc

yeah the holidays were so fucking hectic and all i’ve wanted to do was sew and i just have not had time.

we’re coming down to the wire, there’s less than a month left before we leave for our trip, and i have seven garments i still want to make, plus two muslins. BUT of those, three of them are patterns I’ve already muslined, and the ones I need muslins for, I have one of them already cut out and just waiting to be sewn up.

(I also have just cleaned my entire house to the point of being able to rearrange furniture in the living room. i threw out pay stubs from 2014. i’ve been real busy ok.)

I don’t have time to find photos to put in here, but. So far, I’ve finished one thing-- the merino jersey Turner dress-- which is not for the trip but I did wear it for Christmas. Yay! Setting that aside.

1) i’ve also finished a maroon linen Honeybourne dress, which can go on this trip probably. It needs a little more hemming, I’m progressing steadily on that.

2) And I’m entirely done with the bodice of another Kineton dress (i did the muslin of that one recently, elastic waist v-neck with pockets) in linen rayon, and I just have to do the waistband and skirt and then hem the bottom and that will be done. Might machine-hem that one for time.

3) I next will cut out and make another version of the same dress, in green cotton double gauze, with the skirt lengthened but left with side slits so I don’t have to make it fuller-- that I intend for a beach coverup, and it will be opaque enough to wear for daywear as well, and will have pockets. I might make the pockets bigger.

(I actually did muslin just the sleeves for this one, as I wasn’t sure how the flutter sleeve armscyes worked-- I cut out a version of the Kineton bodice and changed the shape of the center front to make it a crop wrap top, and it went together and worked so beautifully that I’m just going to pop a lining in there and then bias-bind the lower edge and make waist ties, and now I have a flutter-sleeved linen gauze wrap top that I can wear with sleeveless tops for sun coverage, and it’s small enough that i can cram it in my purse or tie it around my purse strap like a scarf if it’s too hot to wear it.)

I muslined the Avola slip dress in cotton and it fits well enough, I can now make it in final fabrics-- I want to do several in silk, but I am going to postpone that until after the trip. For now, I will try make two in linen, to bring-- one a camisole top, one a knee-length dress. They are easy and go together quickly. So, 4) and 5).

6) I am going to make the Rockwell dress without a muslin, from cotton voile. I had woven a waistband for it, but I just found fabric in my stash I could use to make the neck binding from and I might just do more bias tape for the waistband of that as well, while I’m doing it. i’ll have to see.

and 7) I also have an idea for a reversible dress I want to do, from a pattern I’ve made hacked with a technique I saw on the Internet, and that would be super neat to make and I think it would go together easily, but I might put it off for last and see how fast I can progress on these other projects.

Oh right but 8) I have a muslin all cut out, have for months, of the knit scoop-neck top/dress pattern that I want to make two of for this trip, and I couldn’t find the fucking pattern directions so I’ve finally given up searching and today printed off another copy. I have the damn thing cut out! I just need to put it together! And if it does, this should also be very simple and easy and quick to make more of, and i badly want at least one for this trip. So like. this is just a long list.

I just haven’t had any fucking time to work on this! I’ve gotten a lot done but I swear every other day someone wants me to come over or I have to go do some errand or I have to spend six hours on this other thing or whatever. If I just had like... several days, which I could spend sewing, i’d be done with all of this in no time. Maybe now that the holidays are done, I can make this happen.

We’ll see.

Tonight I need to cut out that beach coverup dress I think. I think I have time to work on some of this stuff. What’s been crucial for me so far is to have a good mix of machine-sewing and cutting out and such, which I do in the basement when I’m good and awake, vs hand-sewing and finishing and such, which I can do on the couch while watching stupid YouTube or whatever. So the key for me is to get stuff from the basement done while I have the brainspace for it, and stockpile couch-sitting work so I can work on it when I’m fit only for zoning out.

#sewing #about the author #real life updates #B sews things

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sagau-my-beloved · 2 years

Note

Your wisp plushy is so cute! I’d love to know what alterations you made to the original pattern, or at least what yarn you used

I'll do my best to go through them all, but I'll just warn you ahead of time there's probably a more efficient way to do this and it gets kind of convoluted, not to mention tedious

So for starters, an easier way off the bat to do this is simply to crochet with fluffy yarn, but I can't properly express with words how much I loath crocheting with fluffy yarn, I can't see any of my stitches which makes it impossible to do anything and the final product always ends up so much bigger than intended because of how bulky yarn is, but I love the look of fluffy yarn crocheted plushies

So what really started this is I had to hit a local craft store in order to get some fine liners for a class and thought this would be a great time to stock up on materials and managed to find the softest yarn I have felt in my entire life, both in white and black, here's the label for that

So I buy those and get a variety of embroidery thread in colors that I think might work, get home and the first thing I do is split the yarn, futility thinking that it might make it easier to work with, it does not

So I default to plan B and find both a white and black regular yarn that's a similar shade to the fluffy counterparts and work with those

I do my pieces kind of out of order, and there is a reason for that, but I do start with the black void of a head first, and I knew going into this that I wanted to head to be bigger than what was shown in the picture because I just thought it would make him cuter, so after round 4 on the head I added in a personal 5th round, which was simply continuing with the increase pattern, so it would read like "*3 sc, inc* 6 times", then I kept the original 4 sc rounds in the middle and added a 3 sc dec before round "9" to combat the inc

After that I moved straight to the hoodie and after round 4 added another increase in order to make it bigger and accommodate the bigger head, same structure it was just "*3 sc, inc* 6 times", but this did cause me to have to change up the next line because the stitch count was no longer the same, so instead of the original "*7 sc, inc* 3 times" I did "*9 sc, inc* 3 times"

Another major change is I didn't secure the head to the inside of the hoodie to do the last round of single crochets, I kept them both separate and left a yarn tail in order to sew them together after I was done with everything else I intended to do, this was mostly because I didn't like the transition from head to hoodie, I thought there should be a little more of a "hoodie" look to it where it's separate from the head

So with the cape part attaching to the hoodie I did that pretty by the book up until the end, I was worried it was going to look to short because of the bigger head, but I think it actually ended up working out, so the two things I did different was I didn't sew the body before working the cape, I thought it would be easier to do it after because I didn't know if I would have to lengthen the body since I didn't know if I would be lengthening the cape to accommodate the head, and it was good that I held off on that because I did end lengthening the body a little bit

And the other thing was somehow my orientation was wrong, so the last step that involves crocheting the little diamond triangle thingies in the front was not done in the front, meaning I had to do an extra row in order to accommodate that, but that might have just been error on my part I don't know, I'm honestly not even sure I would recommend bothering with those because they get kind of buried in the fluff tbh

Oh and I held off embroidering it because of a pretty crucial thing I had to do which I will soon explain

So cape is done minus the embroidery, at that point I folded it back and sewed the legs in after lengthening them an undetermined amount because I didn't actually count rows, I just did it until it looked about right, and now we get to the tedious part

Well, I still had all that really soft yarn I wanted to incorporate, so I split it 3 ways so it was easier to manage, got myself a yarn needle and started sewing

Yep, I sewed the white soft yarn over every square inch of the cape, and sewed the black yarn over the head

The only place I didn't add yarn was the back of the head and the inside of the hoodie because it was going to be covered by the head, which was also the place where I tied off most of my yarn, but I even sewed the stuff under the cloak for the sake of consistency

Now the next problem arose when the yarn was actually a little too fluffy, I didn't like how much it covered the shape, and really thought it was just too long in general, so I'm sure you can guess what the logical solution was

I took a pair of scissors and cut it all myself, being very very careful not to accidentally cut the base of the yarn or the entire thing would unravel

There was fluff and fur everywhere, all over my clothes, all over my sheets and blankets, I had to take a lint roller to my mattress like ten times

I don't recommend, if I were to ever do this again I would probably go out and look for some soft fabric that I could sew over the cloak in place of doing what I did, it's just not worth it

So after that entire process, I made the two top feathers and the wing thing basically the same as how I did the cloak, which was crochet the base in regular yarn, go over it with the fluffy stuff, and then trim it

The biggest difference is I didn't use two different types of yarn like in the pattern, I simply stuck with white because I knew I wanted to dye it since I liked that gradient, which leads us to the dyeing process, and at that point I certainly felt like dying

I had a small pack of dyes on hand for the purpose of being used in resin, because I work in jewelry too, but my first thought was actually food dye, the other was a secondary thought since I didn't have any food dye on hand

The original blue I had was pretty good, but it didn't entirely match the color of my embroidery thread, which I wanted them both to match, so I mixed it with some greens and purples until I got a more accurate blue, but since you probably don't have the same dye colors as I do that isn't entirely relevant

After that I literally just applied it by hand, putting some on my fingers and rubbing it into the white fluffy yarn in a gradient manner, luckily it didn't really stain my skin

Obviously I did some test swatches first for color testing and to see how well it stayed on, soap will take it off but just plain water won't so that's pretty good, but yeah, there's not much more to be said about that

After all the pieces were dyed and dry enough I sewed them on their respective places and all that was left was working with the embroidery thread

So I did the little circle pattern around the clock first, didn't bother trying to do the cute little diamond shapes because it probably would have been covered in the fluff anyway, and for the centerpiece I kind of went off the cusp and just did it in a way that made sense to me

I'm way more comfortable working in a round than I am in a chain so here's my pattern for what I did in place of the original

Start with darker blue (I use the same yarn I used for the legs, just split so it was the same size as the embroidery thread)

Round 1: MR, 6 (6)

Round 2: *hdc inc, 2 sc inc* 2 times (12)

Switch to light blue

Round 3: *1 dc, 1 dc inc, 1 sc, 1 sc inc, 1 sc, 1 sc inc* 2 times (18)

Sl st, leave long tail for sewing

Then sew it as the pattern shows

After all that I finally decided to sew the head to the inside of the cloak, and cut the eyes out of some white felt in a few different shapes in order to play around with how I wanted them, then I simply glued them on

And there you have it, an entirely too complicated wisp Venti

Really the worst part was simply sewing the fluffy yarn on top of my crocheted base, and that could be entirely eradicated by just crocheting with fluffy yarn, so if you're not as bad at that as I am, I'd recommend just going that route, save yourself the trouble

I'm also happy to expand on anything stated here, or maybe even help troubleshoot for whatever problems you may be facing with your own wisp Venti project, I'd like to think I'm pretty good at finding work arounds, but I wish you the upmost of luck and hope you have an easier time

#hey look i'm talking #genshin impact #genshin venti #wisp venti plushy #wisp venti #That was certainly a mouthful #I wasn't lying when I said it was convoluted #like I said good luck #if you decide to pursue this route you're going to need it

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ehh-is-the-name · 2 years

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Finally all caught up in inanimate insanity! I gotta say, when I first watched s3 I didn’t get any of the references to the old seasons since it had been years since I watched them last, but watching them all in order (and in one siting...) made it all click. Especially with the new ep!!

[after this point it just goes into s2 and s3 theory insanity]

Mephone4 with the anxiety from A.D.A.M being made by cobs and such:

OR the part where he says that he gets to lengthen his vacation

(I’m showing my bias aren’t I?)

Since I watched it all in succession, I’ve been connecting s3 to s2 a lot more than I did upon watching the s3 eps the first time around. And because of that, I’ve been making theories!! (Or well, at least strings of thought.) I was first thinking that Mephone4 erased his memories again and started another season, because (I think) he was talking to Mepad about that, but with the newer s3 eps yeah that was a dud. (Plus there was this bit, but a fan can theorize, right?)

I also think there was a part about him saying he needed a vacation in s2, but I can’t find the part so... Source: Dude, trust me. Which would play into him wanting to extending III for at least just a bit longer. (Or even forever since he said that in s3 ep8:

Which I think is interesting, since for a good chunk of s2, it seemed like he just wanted the show to be over.) I think because II s2 got really heavy for him, he just started another one on some middle of nowhere island away from his issues. He just wants to go back to a time before it was beyond the game... same dude. ANYWAY, I’m getting ahead of myself. With s3 already getting some foreshadowing for being over fast (s3 ep10), I think we’ll get more insight into him as the season goes on. I’m praying we do tbh. And a bit away from Mephone, what the hell happened to Mepad? I think we’re a good distance into s3 to at least figure out if Mepad is still in rest mode with Taco using their(?) teleporting power. I hope this’ll get addressed at some point.

Moving along from these Meeple products, GOD I WANNA KNOW HOW LIGHTBULB IS DOING!! We literally left her alone without her rag-tag team! That was, like, a huge deal!!! In s2 ep14, we literally got a ref to her “I drink when I’m depressed” line and other telling lines:

(for context, Test tube and Fan walk through the portal for OJ then this scene:)

I also just think that this (^) scene is a little ironic since we don’t see her again, but more importantly, you see what I mean???

Lightbulb is still in s2, and idk if that means she has/had access to the hotel during the two years between s2 and s3 or not, but I’m assuming she didn’t because... idk I just am. But with LB in s2 and literally all her friends either in OJ’s hotel (Fan), Indefinite Island (Test Tube), and III (Paintbrush), how’s she fairing alone? From these pics, it’s clear that it would be really getting to her...

I remember the first time I started watching s3 eps back in like, what 2021? I was thinking that they weren’t as deep as s2, but after getting all the context. DAMN! I’d say it’s just as deep but maybe not so depressing.

Also, I whole heartily get why that one post said that these two just started making out as soon as the got to the island...

S3 made them gayer than they were before and I need to know how Baseball and Suitcase would react.

Over and out.

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heartkade · 2 years

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Some more lore stream thoughts (spoilers)

Acting was well done. c!tommy break my heart why don’t you

c!Sam & c!dream character parallels of wanting to lengthen their lifespan & be immortal vs c!phil and c!tommy who want to maintain the natural order

The contrast of someone wanting to live simply to someone who wants to know the secrets of life. Fascinating plot point

These two duos of characters with extreme trust in one another facing off was pretty neat

The grilled cheese and that blooper, was crying of laughter

Getting c!dream’s motivations made his character a lot more interesting to me now. I want to know the same answers he does about the mysteries going on in this world

XD: “You can’t run from death. Death… never forgets.” c!dream is in for it

C!FOOLISH AND EGG MENTION HAD ME 0_0

Seriously why is the dsmp world so inherently screwed up. Like what happened. Why do people just appear and have three lives?? c!Aimsey mentioned this before too, she was confused and didn’t know how she came back to life

I really love c!Tommy’s argument, but it got me thinking. How possible is it to live simply, when in this world unnatural entities like the egg are a huge threat to regular people who just want to live their lives simple too? and there’s gods like XD who regularly meddle for entertainment? all these supernatural things are at the characters’ doorstep, so maybe it would be worth learning more if only for them to know how to protect themselves?

The nuclear machine thing opening looked very cool. Seeing this plot again in a big way is nice

I got reminded of the egg’s speech; “If only from the beginning I’d understood. you are not ruled by greed, or pride. you are ruled by hatred. by fear.” a lot during this stream. Along with the c!Sam finale, themes of different story arcs seem to be lining up with similar messages. There being too much hatred is a big one

I wonder if the egg has contributed to the world being messy too. Maybe because it absorbs souls to gain power and they don’t recycle naturally through XD. I really don’t think that thing is a natural existence

Last we saw XD they mentioned being “busy dealing with stuff” I knew that was important + the suddenly needing deaths thing

So the dsmp is facing 3 instances of the world ending all at once: demonic egg apocalypse, nuclear apocalypse, and the fabric of reality imploding on itself. haha hello season 2 :)

#dsmp #dream smp #dsmp thoughts #tommyinnit #punz #c!dream #tubbo #awesamdude #DreamXD #foolish #the egg

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ephemeronidwrites · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @my-dumb-obsessions. Thank you, it's my first time participating in anything like this and I'm excited!

(So excited that apparently I'm posting even though it's not Wednesday anymore most places in the world, but hey.)

My current longfic project should have had its last update two whole months ago and I'm sorta just... stuck at the moment. Which is kind of a shame, as I do have bits written for the later chapters that I would love to get around to posting, but I have to write the part that comes before... before.

So maybe if I get the opportunity to share a WIP snippet here without having to feel too self-conscious about it, that can help me get back into the groove.

Without any further ado, the snippet in question:

And now Hawke was walking far ahead of the rest of the group. She was brisk and light on her feet, not limping that he could see, but he hadn’t heard her reply to his yelled-out question earlier, and there was something about the way she carried herself on her right side...

And come to think of it, had she always been left-handed?

Anders lengthened his stride and quickened his pace to catch up, falling into step alongside the Hawke girl.

“Are you all right after that last fight?” he asked her. “Those dogs were pretty savage.”

“I’m fine,” she said, eyes looking straight ahead... and pointedly not at him. “I just need to walk it off.”

Anders had to raise an eyebrow at that. Now that he was right beside her and keeping pace, he could see that she was definitely holding her right arm oddly, tucked into her side and bent loosely, but not doing anything with it or supporting any weight. Almost as if she were cradling it in an invisible sling… which in his experience was the first indicator that the arm in question should already be in one.

“Walk off an injured arm?” Anders said, no longer bothering to hide the concern—bordering on intrusive, he feared—that was creeping into his voice.

“There’s no blood, I can move it, it’s fine—” She brought herself up short, a look of chagrin clouding her face, realizing too late that anything less than a flat denial at this point gave her act away.

“The dogs got you, didn’t they?” Anders asked, finally moving to block her path outright. Hawke shot him a scowl from under knitted brows, behind the disheveled fringe of sooty black hair that fell into her eyes and half-obscured one of them.

“Just over the wristguards!” Hawke protested, as Anders reached for the offending arm, but she seemed to know the jig was up, as she didn’t pull away from his touch, even as she rolled her eyes. “It’s… I already looked at it. They didn’t break the skin.”

“The healer will be the judge of that,” Anders said brusquely, as he unbuckled her wristguard, not missing the way she winced at the lightest pressure of the rawhide and the leather straps as he pulled them off her wrist. “I’d say that your job is to tell me how it feels from your end, except apparently you don’t trust me enough to do that either.”

By now Carver and Varric had caught up to the pair, but they both crept away once they saw what Anders was up to with the Hawke girl, seeming to think for some reason that whatever he was up to with her, the two of them required privacy.

Not unless she’s been hiding a lot more from me than I thought, Anders thought to himself, with a hint of sardonic amusement. But I really hope I won’t have to go there. For both our sakes.

“I…” she said as he turned his attentions back to her arm. “I do trust you,” she said finally, after a heavy pause.

“Your lying to me earlier says otherwise,” he said, as he got to work.

No sooner had he said that than he regretted his shortness. Even forgetting the massive favor she had done him—

—which, how could he ever? no matter how much she insisted on him acting like nothing had ever happened, no, he couldn’t, wouldn’t forget something like that—

—in this moment at least she genuinely was his charge and his patient. It was care she needed from him—at this moment, anyway—not a dressing-down.

“Not that I’d blame you for it, with what I told you a week ago,” he began to sigh by way of a half-hearted apology.

“If I didn’t trust you, do you think I’d be letting you do this to me right now?” Hawke asked.

Her answer brought his awareness crashing abruptly into the realization that it was much easier to see inside her than it should have been, under the conditions: in high relief he saw the crushed nerves and vessels underneath the superficially unbroken skin, inflammation beginning to set in, sprains in the muscles and the tendons. Damaged tendons and ligaments were the worst, they almost never healed properly without magical help or a lot of proper rest, the latter of which his patients almost never had the luxury.

He got the feeling the Hawke girl was no exception to that trend.

“Maker,” Anders cursed under his breath. “Those blighted mongrels pulled the muscles in your arm all the way up the shoulder.”

“Careful there,” Hawke grunted, as Anders unwittingly jostled her arm a bit harder than he’d meant to: he was starting to get antsy again as he finally saw the full extent of the damage the dogs had done.

Her reaction—or rather, the lack thereof—puzzled Anders: his slip, unintentional though it had been, should have been painful, and provoked a concomitant flare of resistance, a throwing up of mental barriers to push him out as he tried to reach inside with his mind to restore bruised flesh and knit breaches in the weave of bone and sinew and vessels.

And yet there was nothing of the sort, not even the tell-tale blip that would appear in the most worn-down, stupefied mind as an instinctive response to pain. Only a Tranquil would be this unresponsive naturally, and Hawke was decidedly not that.

It was as if she were keeping her own aura under strict control, like a chevalier’s prize charger trained to canter and rear and lash out with knife-like hooves on command, knowingly keeping herself open and exposed for his benefit. To make his job easier on him, as much as for her own sake.

“For someone who tried to ‘walk off’ a mauling, you seem to know a lot about how magical healing works,” he said, his voice now considerably softer than it had been when he started.

“My father was one,” she said. “A healer mage, I mean. Among other things.” She smiled, so briefly he might have missed it if he’d blinked just a second too late or early, flashing teeth white as bird eggs behind lips pulled nervously taut. “Though Mother always did say I got my stubbornness from him, so I guess the other meaning works too.”

A mage father. So that explained where she’d gotten it. Both her powers and her impressive command over them.

“Da healed my siblings and me,” she continued, as Anders briefly turned away to extract a roll of bandages and an emergency poultice from a utility pouch at his belt, “and he made sure we knew how best to receive a healer’s care. Said it was just as important for the patient to hold grace and acceptance for the care they got, as it was for the healer to be kind and skilled and trustworthy.”

“Sounds like a wise man,” and the very idea gave a fierce, sharp tug at his heart.

Here, right at his fingertips, was proof, in the flesh, that something he’d thought impossible until now had existed all along. A mage, who’d had a family, children who he’d gotten to raise himself and who remembered him fondly. A healer mage who had gotten to use his gifts not just catering to the whims of any officious noble who flashed coin in his face—or rather, the face of the First Enchanter who held his leash—or drafted to play nursemaid to mistrustful country boors who’d gladly spit on him once they were done reaping the benefits of his long study and discipline, but on healing his own children, the people he loved. A child who’d not only inherited such a mage father’s powers, but got to grow up seeing them as the gift that they could be. Not as a curse, or a sin she had never even chosen to commit but had to spend her whole life atoning for regardless.

A mage who had gotten a choice.

#my writing #da2 fanfiction #theknottedpath #oc: vrenika hawke #character: anders

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child-of-the-cataclysm · 1 year

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Chapter Fourteen: Children

Our rooms in the keep were small, but comfortable. After so long in the shack, however, neither of us could settle in quite as we would have liked, so Flick and I ended up spending the night bundled into the same room, curled up into one of the beds and trying our best to sleep off the anxiety of what might happen the next day.

Come the morning, we woke to beams of golden sunlight slipping through a genuine glass window on one wall. It was marvellous to see, and I confess I spent more than a minute simply watching the play of the shadows of a tree outside against our floor. It’s not as if I’d never seen such a sight - it would be present even with no glass in the window - but the glass lent a certain ethereal quality to it all, especially after the limited light of the shack. Eventually, Flick began to move to stand, and his movement stirred me into the same. Even if the guards were not coming to get us yet, we had our daily exercises to do.

These exercises came in equal parts from Flick’s combat training and what knowledge we had gained of how to practise slipping. Since slipping did seem to react to what one did within it, it was often most efficient to perform the combat training within the silver world as much as one could, slowly lengthening just how much one could do while slipped. It was always a bit awkward when one of us fell out of the silver world, since we would immediately fall behind massively, but it wasn’t so awkward as to make it any less ideal as a method for practice.

The silver world came a bit slow for me this morning - it was there, but it enveloped me sluggishly, as if upset by how long I had been in it last time. I could hardly blame it, honestly. Whatever had happened after the ‘fight’ with the dragon had been distinctly unnatural. Of course, the idea that the silver world had any perception of things was a bit strange, but after seeing a dragon explode because I touched its face, I’m not certain I was willing to disbelieve anything.

I followed Flick through the movements of a complicated kata - he wasn’t the best teacher, but he had learned the kata from Landry well enough that even just attempting to mimic him was decent enough for learning it. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but without an instructor who could actually point out what I might be doing wrong and exactly how to correct it, it would have to do. The motions were fluid, dancelike. At each step of the kata, we were meant to pause for a moment, hold ourselves in what felt like unnatural positions meant to train our muscles to hit those positions more consistently the next time. It was exhausting.

Eventually, Flick slipped out of the silver world. I was confused for a moment, since he almost always managed to stay slipped longer than me, until I remembered the day before. Curiously, I let myself stay in the silver world, just to see if it would fall away on its own given some time, or if the seeming permanence from yesterday was now available to me at any time.

Minutes slipped by as I moved through the kata as best I could without Flick to mimic, but the silver world did not leave. Finally, through the silver filter of it all, I saw Flick complete an achingly slow turn towards me, obviously baffled by how long I had been slipped, and let myself return. He stared at me in confusion as I completed a final step of the kata and then looked to him. “How in splinters did you do that?”

I gave an awkward shrug. “It just sort of… started happening after the dragon yesterday. I didn’t think it would happen again today, honestly…”

Flick stared blankly for a moment, then started laughing manically, dropping to a seated position on the floor and letting his head drop into one of his hands as he laughed. “Of all the… I’ve been better trained than you this whole time, and all you need to totally outclass me is to be idiotically brave once?”

I grinned and sunk down to sit next to him. “Idiots have all the luck, huh?” His laughter spiralled crazier, and eventually I couldn’t help but join in.

The door swung open on us both laying out on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Our attempts to stifle our laughter only made it worse, and the guard standing at the door looked distinctly unimpressed. “The king is calling for all those who performed with distinction in the battle yesterday. You are both requested to join a ceremony of honour in the main hall.”

Eventually, I managed to rein myself in, bringing my laughter down to nothing and rolling backwards onto my feet. Unfortunately, I couldn’t resist popping up like a circus performer, with both hands in the air, and Flick broke down laughing even harder. The grin which split open my face hurt my cheeks, but I managed to keep myself from laughing with him again - if only just barely. Once Flick managed to calm himself down, I helped him to his feet, and the guard, her face carefully masking what was almost certainly extreme annoyance gestured for us to follow her.

The hall was almost completely transformed from the day before. While the bones were still the same, the tables had been set with massive rows of silverware - and not the wooden stuff we called silverware out of some long-gone tradition, but genuine silverware, by the looks of it - with servants milling about with trays of food whose scent filled even this massive room. Only a few dozen people were in the hall so far besides those servants, but it still felt warm and full in a way that it hadn’t the day before, as if the hall itself were as alive as the people inside it.

The king stood next to the throne, chatting animatedly with a small group of people. One of those he was talking with was dressed like a servant, and was shifting awkwardly at being included, but the king kept drawing him in to the conversation, apparently not seeing the awkwardness. The others looked to be soldiers, for the most part, by how they held themselves, although one was very clearly a noble from the shimmering cut of his clothes. It was fascinating to see how easily the king folded them all into his wake. He really did remind me of Nileas, albeit with less of the ethereal beauty and more of a simple, direct charisma that made everyone around him like and trust him almost immediately. Even the servant began to visibly relax and begin to laugh and talk with similar animation after a few moments.

Our escort nodded to us. “The ceremony will be starting in an hour. Guests of honour are being brought in periodically before start, other guests may arrive a bit early as well. Check in with his majesty, then find a seat.” Carefully, I arranged myself into a tiny bow and thanked her. She smiled a little and gave a little bow in return.

With more than a little awkwardness, Flick and I moved around the edge of the table on our side of the hall, towards the throne and the king’s circle. Before we got too close, the king glanced past the shoulder of one of the ones he was talking to and locked eyes with me. As I opened my mouth to speak, he shook his head. It wasn’t much, small enough that those who were in the conversation likely had other things to fix on, but it was enough for me to close my mouth and look on with confusion.

As we stood there, unsure of what to do, a servant came up, a platter with small spheres of bread stuffed with meat extended. When he saw our silver eyes, he shuddered and turned, as if he was never coming to us in the first place. My lips knit together into a thin line, and I took a seat at the table, with Flick sitting just beside me. “Do you think they’ll keep doing that after the ceremony?” he asked, sounding more tired than anything.

I shook my head. “If the king grants us our freedom and the honour of our names, it would be disrespectful enough that by Crown law servants would be compelled to-” I cut myself off, seeing Flick staring at me. “Uh. No, I don’t think they will.”

“Weren’t you a bandit or something before this? Where did that come from?” He asked, sounding almost offended at the idea of my education somehow surpassing his own.

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I shrugged. “I wasn’t lying. I’m a Sentrica. Even in exile, my mother made sure I got an education.”

Flick leaned back, putting his elbows onto the table behind us and letting out a breath through pursed lips. “Figures. Seems like everything I had over you is slipping away.” He was joking, to some extent, but his tone was still genuinely pained.

Leaning over, I nudged him in the side with my elbow. “You’ve still got your combat skill over me. Without the silver wor - slipping. Without slipping, you’d beat me any day.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Without slipping.” Flick let loose a sigh, then shook his hands out. “Oh well. Only got myself to blame, I guess. I could have been the one to go slap about that dragon too, I bet.”

Just as I was about to respond, I heard an all-too familiar voice from the direction of the king’s group. A voice I had heard dozens of times on the way to the capital. A voice ingrained into my head by its owner’s actions. A voice I had hoped never to hear again.

(~)

Dark eyes peered out from underneath bright hair. It had grown longer since last I saw him, and was worn loose around the head of my enemy, bound around the forehead by a thin metal band. His voice lacked much of the irritating calmness it had held at one point, instead carrying the rage of unchecked rapids as he pointed at me, demanding to know why there were monsters among us.

The king looked past Rahkor to me and gave me an apologetic look, then circled around between us. “Stand down, Leamin. These children are not monsters today, or ever again. Today they are the saviours of our city, and very likely the only reason many more of us are not dead and buried.”

I noted that the king’s use of ‘children’ did not bear the intonation people tend to give it when talking about the Children of the Cataclysm. He referred not to our origins, but our age. It was a rare thing. I pushed myself to my feet, adopting a laconic tone. “I can defend myself, milord. If this soldier-” I snarled the word, making it as close to an insult as I could without saying what I really meant “takes issue with our presence, perhaps he would like to challenge it more officially.”

Lazily, I drew a semi-circle with my right foot on the floor between us. The hall was far too well-maintained for there to be dust to mark the line, but by the way Rahkor’s eyes stuck to the path, I know he saw it just as well as I did. “By the laws of the Crown, if Leamin challenges my right to be present at a ceremony initiated by the king’s command, a challenge may be made before the king, for the right of both the challenged and the challenger to participate in said ceremony.”

Staring at Rahkor with as much venom as I could possibly muster in my eyes and voice alike, I let the dragonskin begin to cover my hands, purple fire beginning to dance around my fingertips. “Of course, if Leamin only wishes to insult, rather than challenge, I rather think it might be him who does not deserve his place in this ceremony.”

The king stepped back a bit, leaving an open line between Rahkor and I and falling into his official voice. “If a challenge is to take place, I will witness it. Otherwise, Leamin, you are directed to control yourself in the presence of your equals.”

A ferocious grin ripped its way onto my face, and I stared at Rahkor, watching his eyes dart nervously between the king, my hands, and my eyes. After a moment or two, he awkwardly stepped back, making apologetic gestures with his hands. “It is. My mistake. My mistake, young lady. I… Retract my statement.”

I stepped forward after him, watching him flinch backwards. Behind me, Flick restrained a chuckle, and my grin grew wider. The fire still dancing around my fingertips, I reached my hand out towards Rahkor as if to shake hands. He stared down at my hand, eyes simultaneously angry and terrified, flicking over to the king and back as if begging for the king to step in and save him.

With an exaggerated sigh, I let the flames and dragonskin fall away, rolling my eyes and adopting a posture of overdramatic accommodation, as if irritated that I had to stoop so low for Rahkor. I heard a few nervous twitters of laughter from around the hall, and had to restrain myself from letting my grin become positively predatory. “Come on, Leamin. Shake and make peace. We are equals, after all.”

Rahkor’s lips pressed together into a thin, white line, obviously restraining some hateful comment. Reluctantly, he took my hand and shook it - a single shake, firm and strong, but clearly not meaningfully conciliatory to anyone who knew of courtly manners. As he attempted to pull away, I held tighter to his hand and pulled him down to my level, so his ear was right next to my mouth. “The next time you call me a monster, I’ll let you see just what a monster does to a little pissant like you.”

Releasing him, I pulled back, spinning gracefully into an overdramatic bow before turning away. “My king!” I said, dramatically lowering myself into a kneeling position, my back pointedly towards Rahkor. “My comrade and I have come to check in with you, as we were told to by our escort.” Flick stood and scrambled to join me, and the king stared down at both of us with amusement dancing on his lips.

“Stand, young lady. Young lord. On this day, you need bow to no-one.” Raising his voice, he made sure it would be heard by everyone in the hall, echoing off the walls and causing the flames of the lanterns to flicker slightly at its magnitude. “Monsters do not save a city from a dragon. Demons do not keep hundreds of soldiers from death. Omens of some apocalypse we do not understand do not kneel before the man who built the kingdom that oppresses them and speak of the laws of that kingdom. These are no monsters, no demons, no omens. These are our children.”

Softly, his eyes shining with barely restrained tears, he continued, whispering so quietly that I almost could not hear it, even so close to him.

“My children.”

#CotC

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childofthecataclysm · 2 years

Text

Chapter Fourteen: Children

I gave an awkward shrug. “It just sort of… started happening after the dragon yesterday. I didn’t think it would happen again today, honestly…”

I grinned and sunk down to sit next to him. “Idiots have all the luck, huh?” His laughter spiralled crazier, and eventually I couldn’t help but join in.

“Weren’t you a bandit or something before this? Where did that come from?” He asked, sounding almost offended at the idea of my education somehow surpassing his own.

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I shrugged. “I wasn’t lying. I’m a Sentrica. Even in exile, my mother made sure I got an education.”

Leaning over, I nudged him in the side with my elbow. “You’ve still got your combat skill over me. Without the silver wor - slipping. Without slipping, you’d beat me any day.”

(~)

Softly, his eyes shining with barely restrained tears, he continued, whispering so quietly that I almost could not hear it, even so close to him.

“My children.”

#CotC

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thinking-kaye · 2 years

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BACK FROM THE DEAD

November 2. 2022 7:45 PM

HEEEYYYY! Omg! It’s been a long, long time since I last wrote here. Of course I’m here again to RANT! Like, duh? Anyway, straight to the point, this evening I guess just after my 1o-mins. Yoga, I scolded KI- again. However, this time it's just not an ordinary scolds but a screaming-on-the-top-of-my-lungs-plus-breakdown kind of scolding. I don’t why, but I felt really good after letting it all out. Just a quick recap, I’ve been really in a lot of stress these past few days. So being able to vent out and let it all out, lessen a bit of my burden. I even smiled. My heart felt lighter as well. However, It's not good to make KI my outlet, which was really not my intention. I just got triggered and just burst out. I’d also like to remind myself that I should really apply my complaints to Mama and KI to me as well. I remember telling KI before what I learned from a TedTalk. That you shouldn’t exchange your relationship with someone just to be right. I also get mad to her about little things, and aren’t I am exchanging my relationship with her for just that? *sigh* Also, I told her to watch her tone and all that. I also do the same with Mama and I don’t even notice. *sigh* I don’t want to invalidate myself and I know I’m tying my best to be the best sister and daughter but I don’t really know what’s wrong with me. Hopefully, in the future, I could go to therapy and maybe even with my sister. It’s sad that somehow I am also giving her some traumas I had been going through. :( It’s okay Kaye. Again, I promise to do my best. I will talk to them in a softer tone, I will lengthen my patience, I will be good to them. Just take baby steps kaye! You can do it. :)

P.S I’m also annoyed with my group of friends in school. *sigh*

Maybe the problem is me. It’s me! Hi! I’m the problem, it’s me

Taylor Swift, 2022

Anyway Good Night!

End: 8:06PM

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auttobedifferent · 2 years

Text

My story

I’d like to start by telling you a bit about my story, all words are my own and are about my own experiences and views as a late diagnosed autistic person. I am by no means a professional, but have worked in professional settings with other autistic individuals and have learned about autism within my professional development as a support worker.

I am 30 years old and was diagnosed last march, in 2021, at 28 almost 29.

Why so late? Well for many years, from about 14, I suspected I could be autisic but my mindset was very different then.

I basically didn't consider myself “bad” or “disabled” enough to do anything about it. I felt like I was taking resources from people who would need it more than myself. I felt like this about my crippling depression also (which I suspect was a side effect of the constant masking and feeling like I never fit anywhere) which, when left for so long, creates problems.

So fast forward a few relationship and friendship breakdowns and just general struggles with other people who just didn't seem to “get” me or understand me, I decided to pursue a diagnosis.

It wasn't really just about my communication styles, but it was also about my executive functioning, sensory issues and meltdowns that I'd have (which often ruined friendships and relationships because I struggled with communication, things would get too much and everything would come out). I struggled with uni, I have dropped out twice.

Working was also an issue, as I worked as a support worker.

I looked into it extensively before I pursued this as I wanted to be somewhat sure. I read multiple resources, took loads of online diagnostic tests on autism, which ALWAYS came out very high, read other peoples accounts, and because all of this info felt highly relatable, I went to the doctors with the information I had found, and asked for a referral for an assessment.

Because I was giving my all and putting a lot of energy into supporting others, I largely forgot about myself and overworked and neglected my own needs. So every 2 years I would change companies and get a new job within support to keep the interest going as after a while it got boring. I didn't find being a support worker that rewarding, like people say (that’s not to say it isn’t, it just wasn't for me), because so many of the people i worked with had been institutionalized for most of their lives, and staffing was so limited, it was incredibly hard to actually fulfill people's needs, so it was hard to make a real difference for people.

I did this until 2020 after 5 years in health and social care when I decided to take some time out for myself.

I then had my first autism assessment with a psychologist in march 2020 just after I left work. We went through my childhood and how I was back then, how I played, how I interacted with others, as well as them being in touch with my mum to get a better picture.

However, a couple of weeks after, Covid-19 lockdown happened which affected the rest of the diagnostic procedure (as well as my willingness to go back to work during this time).

Because of covid, this lengthened the diagnostic procedure to a year, which at the time was very overwhelming as they weren’t able to give me a time frame of the next sessions. One had to be a phone session (in April) which I do not like being on the phone so that was really draining to do, but I didn't want to prolong it any further.

March 2021 was my final assessment in which it was confirmed I am autistic.

I was both relieved and completely frustrated and angry that this was never discovered in childhood, when it was quite obvious (I had very little friends, I struggled with certain subjects - or id completely hyper fixated on them to the point i was still learning about it well past the time it was being taught at school-, how i was taught - i had different learning styles to most, and was constantly being told id “misunderstood” people, was told i was too sensitive and over reactive, i also had serious meltdowns outside of school, due to being bullied).

I definitely don't blame my mum for any of this as I am very much like her, and on reflection she is also autistic, which is why she never picked up on it as I was just like her. However, how others at school didn't pick up on my differences I don't know.

So that is a basic rundown of my background and I am going to be sharing other stories and topics, which I find interesting and/or a part of my experience.

#actually autistic #autistic life #autistic adult #autism #its the neurodivergency #neurospicy #neurodiverse stuff #adhd #living with adhd #audhd #actually audhd #neurodivergent

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Either out of embarrassment or being a little shit, Jaskier lies outrageously to Geralt about humans (on the level of “I’m molting” or “These? They’re rocks, to snack on.”) and might get away with it?

Hi Dahliavandare! I always love seeing you in my inbox. I changed this just a *teeny* bit. WARNING: VERY SLIGHTLY HORNY (it’s Jaskier, duh) There is also a little bit of angst because Jaskier gets sick.

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

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

“What?” The young bard yelped. “I wasn’t even singing that time.”

“No, you just--hmmm.”

“I just hmmm what?” Jaskier asked, pausing in his near-constant strumming.

“You smell like...hmm.”

“I smell?” Jaskier said, both hands planted on his hips. “That’s pretty rich coming from you, my friend--”

“Not friends.”

“You smell like a barn. Anyway-”

“No, Jaskier,” Geralt said, running one, gloved hand through his hair. “Witchers can sort of smell emotions, right?”

Jaskier looked up at him, a sudden hint of anxiety in his scent. “I thought that was a myth.”

“Not entirely.” Geralt shook his head as if clearing a thought from it. “We can’t smell complex things, but joy, fear, anger...desire.”

Jaskier, for once, didn’t look at Geralt, studying instead the flowers at the side of the road. “Desire?”

“I-yes.” Geralt said. “And I wanted to know if all humans smell like...”

“Desire?” Jaskier said, then began talking fast. “Oh yes, of course, most humans, especially my age, well, they smell like this all the time. All the time. Naturally.”

It sort of checked out, at least to Geralt’s thinking. Young humans were horny, and although the overriding scent when Geralt was around was fear, he remembered being a teenager, with all the baggage that entailed at Kaer Morhen, and yes, constantly horny was among those memories. Jaskier himself was definitely still young by human standards, perhaps twenty or so from his youthful features.

Geralt chalked the horniness up to humanity and hormones and left it at that.

---

Later on, Geralt had other questions related to humanity, more specifically that part of humanity that included Jaskier.

“I thought humans couldn’t eat those?” Geralt couldn’t, he’d eaten one during training on a dare and spent the next day with his head in the privy.

Jaskier looked down at the mushroom in his hand. It was a beautiful, bright red, with little white spots. He’d been snacking on similar ones for the last mile or so.

“Of course we can,” he said. “Humans eat these all the time.” There was a rising tone in his voice that indicated something, but as Geralt had mentioned before, witchers couldn’t actually smell the more complicated emotions.

“They, um,” Jaskier said. “They just can’t be eaten by humans during-er- during summer. It’s fall now, so it’s okay.”

Geralt shrugged. What did he know of human biology? He wouldn’t be eating another of them ever, at any time. His stomach lurched a little just at the thought.

---

“You didn’t buy the ring.”

Jaskier looked up at Geralt, eyes bright in the sunshine. The bustle of the market around them pushed against him like a tide, but a little patch of space was left around Geralt. Jaskier stepped into the space. “The ring?”

“You liked it,” Geralt grunted. “I could tell.” It had been a little thing, cheaply made of poor materials, but the bard’s eyes had lit up upon seeing the little buttercup detailing, and he’d admired for several minutes, although without touching.

Jaskier shrugged. “It was made of iron.”

“And?”

“Human’s can’t wear iron, Geralt.”

“Then why did the man sell it?”

“Well some humans can wear it of course, those with very tough skin, but I’m delicate.” Jaskier sniffed.

“Humans...can’t wear iron?” It didn’t sound right.

“Not right up close to their skin,” Jaskier said. “It turns us, um, purple.”

Geralt shrugged it off. He’d once been called to a castle where a baron had believed himself cursed because his finger was turning green, but he’d simply been wearing a cheap brass ring.

---

After the first winter they met again in the spring something was definitely different.

“Your freckles,” Geralt said.

“What about them?” Jaskier said, looking away.

What about them indeed. They glimmered like chips of mica. At first Geralt had thought it a trick of the light, but no, there was a definite glitter to Jaskier’s skin.

“They’re...shining?”

Jaskier cocked his head at Geralt, cheeks shimmering. “Geralt,” he said slowly. “You know humans shimmer in the spring...right?”

Shimmer?

“I’d never noticed,” Geralt said. Admittedly he paid a little more attention to Jaskier than perhaps he ought, but still, one would think he’d have seen this before.

“It’s part of the growing process,” Jaskier said.

---

“Jaskier, your cheeks are red,” Geralt said, stepping out of the small bathtub the inkeeper had brought up. He stepped closer to the bard, still naked and dripping water, and pressed the back of his hand to Jaskier’s forehead.

“Nnhgh,” Jaskier said.

“Are you well?” Geralt asked, cupping Jaskier’s flushed face with his other hand. It didn’t feel like he had a fever.

Jaskier pushed his hands away, face even redder than before.

“I’m perfectly fine, Geralt,” he said, higher pitched than usual. “Human faces get red for no reason now...put on some pants.”

---

“Jaskier you’re drunk,” Geralt said. It was a pretty obvious statement, considering he had his bard draped over him like a shawl.

“Hehe, yep,” Jaskier said, reaching up with one, long finger and tracing Geralt’s jawline with it.

“You didn’t have any alcohol, I’m sure of it.” Jaskier normally had an extremely high alcohol tolerance in any case.

“‘O course not,” Jaskier said, leaning even more fully into Geralt’s hold. “Had milk.”

“Milk can’t get people drunk.”

“Milk can’t get witchers drunk,” Jaskier slurred. “Get’s humans drunk though, dunnit?”

“Can it?”

“Yeah, definitely, not the kids, but like, how often do you see, like adult humans drinkin’ milk?”

Not often, Geralt thought. He put Jaskier to bed in the inn and it was like pouring an octopus into a bucket. One loose yet gripping arm pulled Geralt closer to Jaskier, the bard leaned in and brushed soft lips to Geralt’s cheekbone.

Geralt wondered if it was another mystery of humans that the spot seemed to tingle all night and he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.

---

Geralt clutched Jaskier as the bard fell to his knees, groaning. His face was sickly in it’s palor and he was trembling. He’d just lurched up from the table at the inn and stumbled to the door. Geralt had followed him and the young bard had just collapsed like this.

“Jaskier,” he said, clutching a chilled cheek, his other hand seeking one of Jaskier’s. “Jaskier what’s wrong.”

“Lemon,” Jaskier whispered, lacing shaking finger’s with Geralt’s. “In the fish, there was lemon.”

“Lemon’s fine, isn’t it?” Geralt asked, slow heart racing as he looked into eyes that were becoming glassy and clouded.

Jaskier shook his head and it seemed to exhaust him.

“’S fine for humans.” He said. “Not fae.”

“Fae,” Geralt said, cradling his friend. “Jaskier you’re not making sense.”

“Mmh,” Jaskier said, smiling sadly. His face changed, his eyes going glow bright and his ears lengthening a little. His skin took on a slightly green tint.

Geralt looked into the face of his fae bard, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone and the shimmering freckles there. “How do I heal you, you have to tell me.”

Jaskier blinked slowly, eyes dimming further.

Geralt shook him, desperation taking over.

“Jaskier what heals a fairy?”

What heals a fairy? He’d learned that at some point hadn’t he? Long ago. They were rare, and most witchers never saw one in their whole lives but if you could help one they’d grant you one wish, not tricks.

Poetry.

Fuck.

“Jaskier,” Geralt rasped, throat feeling dry. Those beautiful eyes blinked at him, slowly.

“I...I think you have pretty eyes,” Geralt said. “And I like when they, um, match the skies.”

Jaskier blinked at him in confusion, brow wrinkling slightly.

“You look pretty in blue,” Geralt managed, inventing wildly. “And look pretty in green. You look lovely in about every shade in between.”

Some of the deathly palor was fading from Jaskier’s face now and Geralt sought more words. “I thought you were pretty that day you wore purple,” he said. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, idiot he was an idiot, nothing rhymes with purple.

“I like your spirit, your moxy, your...your yurple.”

Jaskier was indeed looking better now, and he was smiling.

“I like the way you talk to me, and how you’re always there,” Geralt whispered. “I like the way you hum to me when you help me brush my hair.”

Jaskier sat up slowly, blinking in the dim light.

“I like the way you give treats to Roach, um, and I like the way you smile,” Geralt gulped at the look on Jaskier’s face. “But most of all I like how much I love you, so I want you to promise to, uh, stay? For a while?”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier said, cupping his cheek. “That was bad.” Then he kissed him and Geralt’s brain went very very fuzzy.

A little later, in their room in the inn, where Geralt was finishing the fish and Jaskier was having stew avec no-lemon-at-all, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jaskier tilted his head thoughtfully as he chewed a piece of potato. “Well, at first I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he said.

Geralt nodded. Fae were a feared and reverred group amongst humans, so caution was reasonable.

“Then it became a sort of game,” Jaskier said shrugging. “I couldn’t resist. So I left you little hints. I thought you’d figure it out for sure with the freckles or the milk.”

Geralt huffed a little sheepishly.

“I don’t care that you’re fae,” he said after a moment.

“I know,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t care that you’re an awful poet.”

“It worked, didn’t it.”

“It did, and now you get a wish, no tricks,” Jaskier held up his hand as if taking an oath. “I promise.”

Geralt thought for a moment. A wish from a fae was no small thing. It should be something powerful, something earth shattering and precious and rare.

“I wish you would kiss me again.”

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

Oop, here it is (after quite the wait, sorry about that) I’m actually so proud of this and it’s super sweet and fluffy.

#geraskier #fluff #creature Jaskier #fae jaskier #Roach borrowed the braincell and she isn't giving it back #the witcher #geralt of rivia

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gojology · 3 years

Text

Intense Healing Session.

the request :

pairing : caring! healer! fem! reader x gojo satoru hehhehe warnings : cursing, implications of seggs after sum intense kissing, pet names wordcount : 2.0k a/n : yoyo i’m back!! semi-long one for u all. cute request, anon. sorry for late delivery. pls dont rate me a 1/5 on yelp </3 hehe the title is kinda funny LOL

You’re beginning to hate Satoru. Surprisingly, it’s not for the reasons people dislike him- he’s a bit of a blabbermouth, never quite learned how to seal his lips just because of how important he was to the jujutsu world. Unsurprisingly, he gets away with everything because he’s attractive and crucial to defeating curses, and there’s no shame in admitting it. People hate Satoru for his destructive personality, he’s carefree and doesn’t let anything get to him. This may be a good trait for the untrained eye, but look carefully and you’ll see just how hectic he gets. It’s manageable since you don’t have to deal with him at the level of the Jujutsu elders. You don’t particularly hate him for this, though. It’s the fact he puts you through so much work, for almost no reason. You’re a healer- something very important to the quaint school that you worked at. Healing abilities are often overlooked, it’s often said that if a jujutsu sorcerer can’t provide offense, then they’re not much of a jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you have little to no talent in the battlefield, so essentially you’re a meat shield to everyone. It was a growing occurrence to see him after every business trip, slightly roughed up but not enough to kill him. He comes into the room you share alongside Shoko, almost always when she’s not there, takes his shirt off, and displays a wide variety of cuts and bruises on his back like he’s a museum. You’d scold him, asking him how he’d get such abrasions with his infinity up constantly- but Satoru would hum, unanswering while you’re working your hands on his back. Maybe you’re overreacting- but something tells you he does this on purpose, perhaps to fuck with you, and you’re bitter about it. So it wasn’t surprising to see him whistle a sweet tune, hands shoved deep into his uniform pockets, casually strolling into the medical attention room for the fifth time this month. “Gojo Satoru.” you say his full name aloud, just so he knows how much you hate his presence. Turning to look at you, his face displays innocent shock, but you just know that he’s probably rolling around in the inside seeing how riled up you got just by him stepping into the room. Drained, lifeless eyes stare back at his childish bright ones. Gojo places a hand on his chest defensively, “Well, I’ll be, Y/N. When did you want to disrespect your senior?” he snickers before shutting the door behind him. “You mad?” “Unbearably. Lucky I care for you.” you utter back, venom dripping in your words, you feel like you’re making a fool of yourself as you shove your lunch aside that you had been enjoying on the tiny table next to you, sighing and rubbing your temples, tugging and effectively straightening your coat. “Get on the bed, let me work my magic.” Looking at you with a shit-eating grin, he whistles, placing his elbows against the mattress, his roughened hands caressing his cheeks. “Working your magic? I’m interested. Tell me more, Y/N. Does this involve... Getting naked, perhaps?” Staggering, you give him a dirty glare, “Satoru! I’ve been working my ass off like every week to get you all healed up, and you dare be perverted in my-” “No cursing, lil girl! You wouldn’t want this rubbing off on Yuuji-kun and everyone else, would you? You’d be charged with a felony!” leaving you stunned for a second time- the first time being when his lanky figure strode into the room like it was his room- you don’t even know how to respond. How could one possibly be so... Ungrateful for your work? Well, then again the elders existed... That was besides the point, though. You’re not even sure if Yuuji knows what the word fuck or shit is. He drags his finger lazily along the cot, drawing various shapes into existence, giving you a skeptical look. “Not gonna answer? Stumped?” He broke through your train of thought, and you shake your head. “Satoru, I don’t know any sort of fighting jujutsu, but I will fucking pulverize you and make sure you’ll be dust by the time I’m done with y-” Butting in, he raises his hand as a way to shut you up. “Honeybun, you’re an amazing jujutsu sorcerer, but I hope you realize why they call me the strongest of all time. If you haven’t noticed, it’s because I have a constant shield. The closest you can get to doing that is maybe poking me.” Giving him a snooty face, you’re frankly about to push him out of the room with sheer willpower and hatred alone. It seems he realizes this, a moment of adoration flickering across his eyes before finally neutralizing. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop playing with you. You’re so cute when I do though, like a little... Rabid raccoon! How can I not resist?” It’s difficult to tell if that’s a compliment or an insult, with Satoru, it could be several things. But, you’re still slightly flattered, knowing him he’d go out of his way to lengthen his insult if it was one- just another reason why you hated him. Being called a rabid raccoon was definitely not on Satoru’s top 10 utterly offensive insults. “Shut up, Satoru. Here, take off your shirt, what did you get yourself into this time?” He obliges with a nasty grin on his handsome features, hastily yanking off his uniform. Underneath was a very meticulously trained body, toned muscles and all. You can’t help but to also catch a glimpse of his collarbones, which were so defined it looked like it could cut your butter for your morning pancakes. You gulp, blinking, you had forgotten just how well-shaped he was in the one week you hadn’t seen him. “No need to stare, sweetums.” he chirps, realizing your darkening cheeks. “Feed my ego any more and I’ll probably burst and my organs will decorate your walls. You can donate my body to the local college, they’ll be surprised by how top-notch they are.” Giving him another stern, but much more sheepish gaze, he snaps his mouth shut, but a triumphant smile replaced his grin in place. “Please, no gruesome detailing. I’d much rather my cute kitten posters.” you motion to a white cat slumbering peacefully in a basket. “Looks just like you.” he says. You close your eyes and pretend he’s not there, choosing to ignore yet another one of his compliments, but your heart thumps faster in your heaving chest. Heaven knows how curious your hands could get if you could see where you were touching- “Those are my abs, Y/N. I think we’re focusing on my back.” he muses aloud in an almost teasing tone. You can already imagine how obnoxious his face is, opening your eyes hesitantly, blinking to adjust to the bright room lights. Your hands are still hovering above his abs, his gaze is upon yours, looking at you with a mix of speculation and speechlessness. Instead of his unusual smug smirk, there’s an almost coy expression on his features, which shocked you. “How’d your hands get there? Last time I checked, abs are at the front, not the back, hmmm?” You grit your teeth, your face flush with warmth at your sudden realization. There was no cheeky retort you could’ve possibly come up with, after all, he was right, how did your hands wander to his abs? You weren’t thinking of doing it. You weren’t interested in him either, but he was attractive. Of course you’d be too curious for your own good.. Yes, that was it.. “Your hands are still on an inappropriate place, Y/N. Except, a lil lower than last time.” he chuckles wholesomely as you jerk up, straightening yourself and clearly sweating, your arm wiping your brow and exhaling a drawn-out and awfully dramatic sigh. “Give me a break, Satoru. I just, um, you know... Zone out.” your pitch was unconvincing, high-pitched and wavering, bringing your chances of believability to a low. “So, this is like, the 375th time since you’ve zoned out, lil girl.” he tsks, “You’ve gotta sound convincing if you wanna fuckin lie, you know.” “I--” you falter, now clearly a shade darker than you were just 5 minutes ago. Your heart beating so rapidly it was almost like you were running a marathon. Why was your pulse so quick? Why was everything in the room a blur besides him? Why couldn’t you focus on healing him? What was he doing to you? “You haven’t even begun the healing process.” he murmurs, his large hands caressing your arm that was by your side. “Anything you want to tell me, pumpkin? I’m on a tight ass schedule, but I’ll let Ijichi solve that. Spit it out.” His voice rang out high and clear amongst the hectic fight that was going inside your head, steadying your thoughts. A few moments pass by, studying him, lips moving but no words coming out. Why was it so difficult to say through the insults, you cared for him, and wanted him to be more careful? Was it because of the monster inside of you, who wanted him to get hurt, to spend his time with you, listen to his horrible compliments and giggle at the jokes he made as you worked at a snail’s pace on his back, that weren’t even funny, but was funny because of his presence in the dead room, his boyish laugh very much needed in such days of flatness? “Satoru..” you finally muster out, his eyes flickering on you once more as he was studying the kitten poster with much boredom. “I just.. Care for you.” “Huh.” is all he says, face falling and examining the spotless floor. “Is that all?” Acknowledging his body language, you huff, suddenly filled with the need to defend yourself. “What else did you want me to say? I just feel like you’ve gotten yourself hurt a lot more recently and... I just, want you to be more careful. That’s all.” “No.” he was barely audible, so you had to lean down to hear him. “No, that’s not it at all. You’re hiding something. Do you prefer me to say it?” Puzzled, you peer at him with childlike curiosity gleaming in your eyes. What did he know about you that you didn’t? Surely, you knew all about yourself? “You’re not that fucking dumb, are you?” “Huh?-” you begin to speak, clearly offended, but you’re stopped. By none other than his lips. They’re soft, pillow-like even. A familiar warmth floods inside of you at the sudden physical contact from Satoru, except it’s amplified by 10 times. A moan slips out of your mouth, his hand against your back so suddenly you could’ve sworn it wasn’t there just a millisecond ago. His lips were mashing against yours, as if he wanted to have done this a long time ago. You hungrily push back, teasing your mouth with his tongue that slipped just barely into your mouth before indulging in you, which you thought wouldn’t had ever happened prior to this. You grip the back of his head firmly, as if he were to escape, other hand tangled in his snow white tufts of hair. Eyelashes fluttering, heavy breathes fanning out both of your noses, your lips were sure to be swollen after this. Your tongues dueling each other, working your mouth against his. His unoccupied hands start to play with the hem of your shirt, and another moan slips out of your mouth, anxious to have progressed so far to the removal of clothing, but at this point, you’re ready for anything. ‧₊˚✩彡. “I don’t think Gojo-Senpai and Y/N-Senpai are just in an intense healing session.” breathed Yuuji with a terrified look in his eyes, clutching his arm that was bloodied up, his head leaned close to the firmly shut door. Nobara looked like she was about to faint, looking at the door as if it was a several feet tall monstrosity of a curse. “What? What are they doing in there?” Megumi knelt down to where Yuuji was, pushing his ear against the door, and immediately his eyes shot open, a traumatized look in his fearful eyes. “What the fuck.”

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