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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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Curiosity // Luke Patterson

Summary: After filling up another journal designed his songbook Luke is left empty handed. With the offer to a shelf of blanket journals is given he’s immediately choosing. But Luke’s curiosity leads him to a discovery. In other words Luke finds Perfect Harmony in Reader’s bedroom.

Requested: Yes by @averyharrypotterlife

Warnings: None.

Words: 1.7 (including lyrics)

A/N: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the 5000+ followers whether it was years ago and you didn’t unfollow or in the future. Thank you for enjoying and interacting in something I’ve always loved: writing.

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Masterlist

Luke’s always been a curious person going as far back as his early childhood. The most consistent evidence being during the Christmas holidays. Until he was ten, yes, he’s aware that his friends stopped believing in Santa way earlier. The young lad would stay up hidden in the living room waiting to catch Santa. Without fail, Luke would wake up in his outer space planet sheets having fallen asleep in his mission.

When he was twelve years old, he was left at his aunt and uncle’s house for the weekend due to a work-related thing. His older cousin was eighteen at the time and at college, so Luke stayed in his bedroom. Luke couldn’t help but snoop through Bryan’s personal items, and in a drawer with a false bottom, he discovered magazines.

Luke had a lot of fun that weekend diligently going through the magazines his mother would skin his hide even knowing about them. He may have had to use the excuse of having a cold for the entire box of Kleenex missing. No one was the wiser on that weekend.

Now when Luke was fourteen years old, he had snuck into the Rated R film Candyman with Alex and Reggie. Luke’s parents had been strict in their rules and definitely had shot down the question of seeing the film. The three didn’t sleep with the lights out for a month after that, and the truth came out when no lie was sufficient to their concerned parents.

Luke Patterson didn’t care about boundaries. Why ask for permission when you can just ask for forgiveness? It worked with going through Julie’s dream box, but all personal items got hidden from the ghostly guitarist.

“No!” Luke exclaimed flipping through his song journal once more in hopes of a blank page. The frustration in his body snapping the pencil he had been using.

“You good?” You questioned glancing up from the essay you graded as a teacher’s assistant for an AP course. Luke’s frustrated brown met yours with a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ve filled my journal up. I hate using loose-leaf, but no money means no buying things.” Luke roughly scrubbed one hand on his face.

“You could always just forever borrow one from the- “Luke quickly shot that down with a look of absolute horror, “Okay…so stealing a no.”

“I did listen to my parents on certain aspects. I would never steal anything, other than the food when we didn’t have enough cash.” Luke’s brown hue had softened back into the hazel that caused flutters in your heart, “I have no respect for thieves.”

You nodded before scribbling a suggestion on the paper in dark red, “I have a shelf in my room dedicated solely to blank journals. If you want to, you can take one free of charge.”

With a quick smile, Luke disappeared from the room to your personal domain he sometimes hung out with you in. You had no misgivings on the teen finding solace in your room and gave him free rein; your prized possessions hidden very well.

Luke appeared in the soft blue and lilac bedroom with the queen white iron wrought style bed in the middle. A white desk in the corner with a multitude of bookcases and shelves in the room. The desk chair neatly pushed into the desk as well he went straight to the shelf.

Journals of all colours and styles with a label on the shelf noting them as empty. It was packed with dozens, but it was the midnight blue one that called to the boy. In his reach, he bumped an emerald green one off the edge. It opened having hit the edge of the desk.

As he leaned down, he noticed notations in the margins, now remember how Luke is a curious guy? He only hesitated a second before he was reading the pages of words in your signature script.

The guilt flared for a second before he justified it as being on the shelf you declared free game. So Luke settled sitting criss-cross against the side of your bed reading the words so eloquently written. Even notes allowed Luke to hear the melody in his mind.

Assignment: Write a piece of literature from two points of views. Genre doesn’t matter as long as it is a minimum of one page and not exceed eight.

Step into my world

Bittersweet love story ’bout a girl

Shook me to the core

Voice like an angel

I’ve never heard before

The words took his breath away, recalling a moment he gushed to Alex on how he had caught you singing. He had described your voice as being angelic, and it took him by complete surprise. He remembered Julie, and you entered the room shortly after with a nervous feeling if you had heard. Now Luke had his answer. His phantom heart pounded in anticipation for the reply to this first point of view.

Here in front of me

They’re shining so much brighter

Than I have ever seen

Life can be so mean

But when he goes, I know he doesn’t leave

The smile threatened to split his face with the elation as he continued reading with a subconscious hum. His fingers tapping the sides of the paper as his hazel irises tinged green ate up the words.

The truth is finally breaking through

Two worlds collide when I’m with you

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

The world faded as Luke distinctly heard your angelic voice singing the parts he could easily recognize as perfect for you. There was something so powerful in this incredibly personal song only intended for your eyes and your teachers.

The next handful of lines left him breathless and astonished as he visualized not sitting across from each other. But engaging in another art form that can be so incredibly intimate for people; he imagined singing this while holding you in his arms.

You set me free

You and me together is more than chemistry

Love me as I am

I’ll hold your music here inside my hands

We say we’re friends, we play pretend

You’re more to me, we’re everything

Our voices rise and soar so high

We come to life when we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Luke went from humming to softly singing to the heartfelt tune with a flutter of butterflies deep in his stomach. When Julie saw Unsaid Emily, he had denied it as an experiment, and it was the truth. Luke wrote rock anthems and rock-pop with his living friend. He never dabbled into romantic ones.

He’d never read something so poetically beautiful it felt him weeping at the sheer amount of feelings.

I feel your rhythm in my heart

Yeah yeah yeah

You are my brightest burning star

Whoah whoah oh

I never knew a love so real (so real)

We’re heaven on earth

Melody and words

When we’re together we’re

In perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

Perfect harmony

Whoa-oa-oa, whoa-oa-oa

We say we’re friends (we play pretend)

You’re more to me (we create)

Perfect harmony

His eyes found the last line of the song setting him back in a dead silence returning to the start to reread it. On his third read, he found the notes from your teacher on a separate page.

Y/N, in my years of teaching, I’ve never read something with such meaning behind it. The longing, passion, respect and love you artfully encapsulated is rare. To have written, this means you’ve felt this. No corrects needed, and I felt compelled to not mark on the piece. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, for letting me step inside your mind and please never let this emotion fade.

Your grade is A+.

Luke’s lips pulled apart at the genuine words your teacher had written because it indeed was a word of art. Carefully Luke returned the notebook back to the shelf to retrieve the blue one that caught his attention. AS he turned, he found you leaning against the door frame with a soft smile.

“I am so sor-“

“No.” You replied, walking into the room, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I told you any notebook on that shelf. I can’t get mad, and I’ve seen you can’t leave something half-read.”

“Probably why my book reports were insanely well done in school.” Luke joked as you stepped in his personal space. The tension faded from his shoulders as he took in your features, “You got a perfect grade.”

“I did.” You simply spoke, staring up into his eyes, “You helped me with it.”

“How?”

“You told Alex what you felt about my voice. You looked nervous when I walked in, so I let it go. It wasn’t the time to bring it up. It’s called Perfect Harmony.” You told the ghost gently grazing your fingertips on his hand. The feeling sends shudders down his spine.

“I guess it just wasn’t the right time. With the band and-“

“-the whole soul owning thing. Too much but now that you’ve read that…what do you feel?” You hesitantly asked because reading it and discovering how someone feels is another to if the feelings are reciprocated back.

“That I was always meant to live in 2020. That I was meant to love you with every atom in my very being.” Luke murmured before he crashed his lips onto your own in a searing kiss that had your toe-curling.

The midnight blue journal dropped to the floor as his large calloused hands cupped your face to feel the warmth. The very journal would be filled with songs all about this person, Luke adored not matter his state as a ghost. Two worlds collided just as two souls came together in perfect harmony.

So, wrapped up in each other Luke didn’t notice something magical encased in the warm love. In the bedroom, the two teens were kissing in had two distinct heartbeats with a glow emanating from Luke Patterson.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #caitsy and ash productions

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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The relationships between the Adventure group and the 02 group

As much as it would sound romantic to group the older Adventure six and the younger 02 juniors into one huge “group of twelve” all of the time, it’s undeniable that there’s a boundary between them, especially since there’s a different internal dynamic within each group as well -- of course, for important events or incidents like Diablomon Strikes Back, they’re capable of getting together as a whole, and they hand off information and call on each other freely for support over the course of 02, but once we start getting into “social life relationships”, things get a bit more complicated. Overall, we all know that the juniors adore and respect their seniors, and the seniors are happy to mentor and support their juniors, but the way each of the older Adventure six approaches the younger kids has an interesting variance from person to person!

Overall

The other sections of this post deal with how each of the “02 quartet” (Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, and Ken, or in other words the four Tokyo Chosen Children introduced in 02) interacts with individual seniors, but in general it should be established that each of the Adventure and 02 groups is always comfortable calling in the other for backup or assistance if necessary. This is especially accentuated in 02 episode 46 (when Daisuke ropes Taichi and the others into helping them do a full-on stakeout of the Dark Seed kids all over Tokyo, which is a lot of work), and Diablomon Strikes Back (when the initial mission was very obviously intended to have the older kids at the forefront and the younger ones as backup, before things went south).

It’s also indicated multiple times over the course of 02 that “sharing information” is a huge priority for everyone, especially with the D-Terminals in play that allow people to keep people in the loop about what’s going on, so that backup can be called in at any time -- see how quickly information passes from the juniors to the seniors during the crisis in 02 episode 7, or how Takeru and Hikari constantly keep each other posted on the situation and their whereabouts in the first half of Hurricane Touchdown. (This is especially when you keep in mind the real-life context that, in 2000, it wasn’t common yet for the average elementary school student to have a cell phone, so 02 deliberately inserted the D-Terminals into the lore so that this kind of communication could be possible, further tying into the overall franchise theme of the impact of technology on society.) There is no issue in 02 that’s caused by lack of communication (at least, unless it involves someone being emotionally unable to communicate), because of how quickly, easily, and constantly everyone is kept in the loop.

Each group is a valuable resource for backup in any situation, and both groups have a clear and obvious sentiment of “wanting to help as much as they can” and “not wanting to be useless”; the Adventure seniors constantly express frustration over the course of the first half of 02 that they can’t do more, and do their best to provide as much support as they can within the restraints of the situation. Once evolutionary restrictions are lifted in the final quarter of the series and everyone goes on winter break, the older Adventure seniors start making a significantly larger number of appearances and directly getting involved without even needing to be asked; since everyone clearly wants to help each other out, there's no reason to refrain from seeking all of the help one can get. By the time of Kizuna, Daisuke (and, if the storyboards are to be believed, Ken too) is still on Koushirou’s call list even if he’s not present for that single incident, and Yamato loops them in to help scout on Menoa in New York since they’re in the right place in the right time.

This is especially in the case of Koushirou, the team’s resident analyst, who can only do his analyses if he has all of the information he can possibly get; since the 02 kids can do certain things that he or the others can’t, he often asks them to do favors for him or provide him with info (such as borrowing Miyako’s D-3 in 02 episode 4, or having Daisuke test out opening a gate at the Yagami residence in 02 episode 17, or picking Ken’s brain in 02 episode 33) so that he has more to work with. It is generally advantageous for Koushirou to get as much as he can on the table and make use of, and since he has an important role in 02 as a personnel manager and team organizer, it’s in his best interest to use the 02 group as guinea pigs make extensive use of their own abilities, as much as he can.

With Daisuke

Daisuke is a very deferential person in general, so him treating his elders with utmost respect and deferring to them is kind of like saying water is wet, but there are some relationships in particular that stand out!

Daisuke being Taichi’s soccer junior and “inheritor” of both his Crest of Courage and his goggles is of course one of the most iconic and well-known parts of 02, but it’s interesting to see how Taichi treats Daisuke in return. While it’s unclear if Taichi knew him as anything but yet another of his soccer juniors prior to the events of 02, there’s a lot to be said about how Taichi hands over his goggles without hesitation -- as much as we as the audience associate this with “leadership”, the 02 group doesn’t actually have a leader from an in-story perspective, and, in-universe, Taichi gave him his own goggles on account of the fact that Daisuke was a “new Chosen Child”...and also the fact Daisuke had just broken his own and he presumably felt bad for him. (How much Taichi was consciously aware that Daisuke was doing it specifically to imitate him will be left to your imagination, because Daisuke never actually vocalizes this to his face.)

That’s a pretty big deal of a thing to do, given that even if you don’t necessarily believe there’s a huge sentimental backstory behind those goggles, Taichi took off an item he’d been wearing for at least seven years and just handed them over! So in other words, Taichi really did believe in Daisuke’s potential enough to entrust him with something this important.

We also see Taichi come to watch Daisuke’s game against the Tamachi team in 02 episode 8, and it should be pointed out that Taichi, being from Odaiba Middle School, had no practical reason to be at this game -- as far as the kids knew at the time, Ken had no connection to any of the Digital World incidents, and it was just a game that they all attended to give Daisuke their moral support, and so Taichi was mainly just here to watch how his junior would do in such an important match and give him advice. (Although, as Daisuke points out later in the episode, he’s pretty strict, too.)

Eight years later in Kizuna, in a scene where it’s established that Taichi is drifting enough from of the others to the point Yamato has to update him on them (Sora and Takeru), Taichi still seems to be roughly aware of what’s going on with Daisuke, despite neither of them playing soccer anymore -- and, of course, Daisuke seems to have always had utmost faith in him. (Also, Daisuke seems to have returned the goggles; we’ll leave to the imagination what might have led to that.)

Some interesting history about Daisuke’s relationship with the soccer club members: as per 02 episode 2, he was already at least roughly acquainted with Sora prior to her switching her sport to tennis, and, if the Adventure novels are to be believed, he was apparently already a member at the time of Adventure in 1999 (likely as an “unofficial member”, given that he would have been too young to formally enroll in it until Taichi had already graduated). If this is true, this would make him likely to be roughly acquainted with Koushirou as well. He was, at the very least, also around to overhear Taichi discussing the Digimon (although we don’t actually have all that much evidence that anyone was working that hard to keep it a secret).

According to Spring 2003, Daisuke is said to have picked up his goggles in imitation of “the person wearing goggles” whom he witnessed from afar during the Odaiba fog incident three years prior, not necessarily Taichi as his soccer club senior -- meaning that he may not have immediately recognized that they were the same person (although that certainly begs the question of how many people in Odaiba wear goggles; given that Daisuke seemed to just have a pair lying around at home, perhaps this is a normal fashion statement?). Taichi is portrayed as being much better at soccer than Daisuke is (Taichi was already a soccer captain in his fifth year while Daisuke didn’t even become a regular until his sixth), and so learning that they’re the same person at some point presumably solidified Daisuke’s personal image of Taichi as an absolutely incredible senior to look up to.

Daisuke infamously starts off on a bad note with Yamato in 02 episode 4 -- he insults an older sibling, something Yamato takes very personally, and it’s a bad mix of Daisuke’s abrasive demeanor and Yamato’s emotional passion -- but by the time of 02 episode 11, it all seems to be water under the bridge as Yamato treats Daisuke very endearingly after watching the process of him earning the Digimental of Friendship. (While it’s not stated in words, one might imagine that Yamato also became a lot more forgiving of Daisuke not being very respectful of Jun after personally witnessing how much of a handful she could be in 02 episode 7.) And, as Daisuke’s technically the inheritor of his Crest of Friendship, it’s interesting to point out that Daisuke arguably shares as many of Yamato’s personality traits as Taichi; he’s an intensely emotional person (far more so than Taichi is), and has somewhat of an awkward way of expressing himself.

Yamato is also the Adventure group member who maintains contact with the 02 quartet over the course of Kizuna, and with Daisuke as the main representative calling back, he naturally goes straight into “happy puppy mode” the moment one of his seniors calls to ask him a favor. The novel refers to the 02 group as “reliable juniors they can count on” (which we can imagine reflects Yamato’s mindset at this point), and he also makes sure to check on whether the 02 group hasn’t also been subject to the ring of light issue, out of curiosity but also worry.

While it’s less immediately apparent, Daisuke also forms a recurring relationship with Mimi. Interestingly, most of their interactions have to do with Mimi’s location in the US, with Mimi teasing him in an email in Hurricane Touchdown and inviting him to come over, Daisuke helping Mimi and Michael out in 02 episode 40, and Mimi getting a lot of mileage and fun out of teasing him in The Door to Summer (this trip is implied to at least partially have been planned with meeting Mimi in mind; perhaps Daisuke was following up on that email one year prior). All of this happening with no translator; one might say that Daisuke seems to be good at befriending Americans in New York, which is interesting when you consider that his English is implied to be reasonably good, and the fact he eventually opens his ramen shop in New York...

Both he and Mimi are pretty like-minded overall, being very pure-hearted people who love supporting others and are never condescending or consciously rude to others, so it’s easy to see why they’d get along.

With Miyako

Rather famously, Koushirou was Miyako’s computer club senior prior to the events of 02, and she still looks up to him and adores him (she even goes out of her way to bring souvenir yatsuhashi from Kyoto for him in 02 episode 34). Koushirou’s handling of her is rather professional -- he calls her “Miyako-kun” -- but this is, in general, more of a symptom of the fact that Koushirou isn’t exactly the kind of person who shows open affection for anyone, and he’s still dealing with the fact that he used to compulsively push people away, so being able to talk to anyone neutrally like this is already kind of a big step.

This is especially because he’s got a pretty huge investment in the kids in general -- he’s one of the most visible of the seniors in 02, and while part of it is also because of his specialty in computers and his inquisitive personality driving him to take a very direct role in things, he also rails at the kids in worry in 02 episode 7 and continues to support the kids with actual support, providing them things they might find helpful or useful. So, in effect, it’s just that Koushirou has his own ways of showing support for his juniors, especially since his character arc has heavily to do with developing a skill in coordinating others.

Miyako continues working in the computer club under Koushirou even after entering middle school, and, eight years later in Kizuna, it seems that Koushirou is actively maintaining contact with Miyako (in the opening, he’s the one directly shown initiating contact via email), since she’s personally helping him with Chosen Child community management. There’s no computer club anymore and the group isn’t necessarily working as a cohesive group all of the time either, so this is something they’re actively involved in together...and Miyako is clearly comfortable enough to dump work that she doesn’t want to do on him. (He doesn’t seem to mind that much.)

Miyako first meets Mimi in 02 episode 6 and immediately latches onto her without hesitation, to the point of fantasizing about their relationship and labeling her “Mimi-oneesama” (big sister Mimi) thereafter. (Note that she only does this when it’s a very casual or playful situation, since 02 episode 14 later establishes that she’ll go back to the usual “Mimi-san” when things get more serious or her mood is worse.) Mimi answers to Miyako’s affection easily, given their similar temperaments, and they get along swimmingly.

We get a little more insight as to Miyako’s feelings on Mimi in 02 episode 14, where Miyako spends the duration of it negatively comparing her own behavior and personality to Mimi's kinder and more mature way of handling things, implying that she sees Mimi as an example to follow that she sees herself as not sufficiently reaching. Notably, in 02 episode 25, when Mimi takes charge and uses Miyako’s D-Terminal to request Ken’s help, Miyako doesn’t protest at all; it of course wasn’t helped by the fact Miyako herself was tussling with mixed feelings on Ken, but it’s worth pointing out that, after all of the vehement verbal arguing about the issue, Miyako respects Mimi’s decision enough to not protest.

Miyako also bonds a bit with Sora, both during her initial process of receiving her first Digimental in 02 episode 2, and during them working together in 02 episode 42. Miyako doesn’t seem to put her on as much of a pedestal as Mimi, but still very much defers to and respects her stance, and Sora is happy to indulge around and bond with her (note how casually she carries herself around Miyako).

While we don’t see them interact much in the series proper, Miyako reveals in 02 episode 29 that she does sound engineering work for Yamato’s band (in conjunction with Koushirou), which she continues doing after entering middle school in Spring 2003 -- although it seems she’s having a hard time getting him (and everyone else) to embrace techno.

With Iori

Among the Adventure seniors, Iori’s most notable relationship is with Jou, which is pretty interesting on its face given that this is the largest possible age gap among any two from this group (Iori is 9, Jou 15). Yet the two are put together in major situations no less than three times -- 02 episodes 5, 16, and 41 -- and with the first two depicting Jou as having a major role in mentoring Iori, in regards to the importance of personal choice and responsibility in being a Chosen Child (02 episode 5), and the conflict between moral principles and practicality (02 episode 16). A lot of the gist of Jou’s and Iori’s character arcs and dispositions are quite similar -- Jou himself struggled with trying to adhere to arbitrary standards without regard to practicality back in Adventure, and it’s because of this that he can figure out Iori’s mentality and reach out to him in a way he understands. For Iori, being a polite and respectful person in general, it’s only natural to expect that he would take very well to Jou being an admirable and honest model citizen.

Iori also receives his initial Digimental consultation from Koushirou in 02 episode 3, and, like with how Daisuke and Miyako also have some degree of personality traits relevant to the characters they inherit their Crests from, Iori also has some characteristics that evoke Koushirou as well, most prominently his tendency towards politeness and deference (albeit for different reasons). While they don’t end up following similar paths for the rest of the series due to Koushirou’s “curiosity” being more about intellectual knowledge and Iori’s “curiosity” being more about human behavior and psychology, Koushirou does correctly identify Iori as having the potential for that kind of inquisitiveness in said episode long before the relevant character arc clearly sets in, allowing Iori to claim the Digimental of Knowledge.

With Ken

Due to the late position of when he’d joined the team and the even later position in which everyone came to like him, Ken isn’t shown necessarily bonding too deeply with many of the seniors, although it’s clear that they all came around for him in the end. That said, some of his limited interactions or interactions by proxy with the seniors end up fairly notable:

Ken has a long and extended chat with Koushirou in 02 episode 33, which is interesting because it’s a point in time when not even everyone in the 02 group itself was particularly receptive to him yet (at the time Hikari and Takeru were still maintaining silence on their stance on him, and Iori still ironing out a lot of complicated feelings about his presence). Yet Koushirou has no qualms whatsoever approaching him and picking his brain about what he knows, since Ken, as a hitherto unknown factor with a lot of background information that Koushirou could make extensive use of, has a lot to offer him. That said, he’s not just using Ken as a resource for intellectual purposes; Koushirou offers him emotional goodwill in his own way, hearing about how Oikawa had targeted Ken and even lamenting that it would have been better if the older kids had reached out to him first.

During 02 episode 25, Mimi makes an active bid to reach out to Ken when Golemon is about to destroy the dam, in the midst of everyone having an argument over whether to allow him to help (and not only that, she’s vehement about doing so). Recall that Mimi is forgiving to a fault, allowing herself to get beaten up by Digitamamon in 02 episode 14 and refusing to give up on him despite knowing he was actively brainwashed -- so it stands to reason that she’s actually one of the most receptive to Ken, even moreso than the more emotionally overwhelmed Miyako, and offering him a chance to join in (she’s never really been depicted as the type to hold grudges).

During Iori’s consultation of him in 02 episode 35, Yamato makes a remark regarding Ken pointing out that he and Takeru have technically gone through the same experience in witnessing the death of a partner, which means he’s actually willing to cast Ken in a sympathetic light at this point! Once Ken has integrated more smoothly with the others, Yamato and Ken work together in 02 episode 42, and they get along swimmingly with zero discomfort at all (not only that, Yamato’s dropped the honorific, going from 02 episode 35′s “Ichijouji-kun” to the more casual “Ichijouji”). Not bad!

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #kizuna spoilers #shihameta

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

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Take My Hand ~ Lucifer x Reader

For so many, even those who know him, Lucifer is an enigmatic riddle that will never be solved. A question with no answer. A blank, white puzzle. He keeps his stoic facade at all times, overworks himself on anything Diavolo gives him, and if he runs out of work, he finds more, from somewhere that nobody, even the young Prince, has no idea.

He’s always so strict and proper, dresses royal and there is seemingly no imperfection to him. Hell, even Asmo, the most narcissistic brother, is not-so-secretly jealous of his beauty and dominant and mysterious aura that engulfs him, that makes him even more enticing than one could think.

So what is the mysterious of this overly strict Fallen, the one that God loved the most, the one that led the Rebellion of the Celestial War aeons ago, actually hiding? What emotions is he so desperately trying to hide behind those sharp, ruby eyes of him that read into you like infrared?

What kind of fragility is trying to hide being that frozen block that became his heart that aches and burns harder than the Sun itself?

Perhaps that is something that only someone with a fresh perspective shall witness, someone who walks around like a ghost, unnoticeable, yet her eyes are wide and attentive, that can peer right into the depths of anyone’s soul.

They are complete opposites, and yet, they are more alike than anyone could even begin to realise - That is, if they are so adamant to be ignorant, as they’ve always been.

Apart from Solomon, not one, but two other humans were brought into Devildom, and that is because fate made it so that Lucifer chose a girl that had a sister.

A twin sister.

So of course, you cannot separate twins, so Diavolo was okay with bringing both of them, thinking it would be reminiscent of the 6th and 7th brothers, especially for their personalities are like light and day, like the Sun and the Moon, both of them beautiful, yet completely different.

And that was quickly made obvious once they arrived, for the brothers quickly swamped all over the younger sister, since she was a lovable, social butterfly, an extroverted free soul who loves to fool around and bend the rules to breaking point.

The older sister, however, was an introvert of few words, yet all of them were meaningful. She was incredibly diligent and hard-working, studying since the first day in RAD, she was much too busy to even bother going out of her way to break the rules, and had to do everything in her power to get her sister out of trouble, including doing her homework, to avoid detention.

The eldest brother, the most attentive, was quick to realise that all the brothers were attracted to the sunshine like moths to the fire that they didn’t even bother approaching the zircon wrapped in a velvet handkerchief.

He was, however, completely drawn to her...Or maybe it was the mystery surrounding her that he was interested in? He read once, in a human book, that the most intriguing is the journey, not the destination, yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was similar to going to one’s soul.

Y/N’s soul was pure, it was bright, it was beautiful and tempting, which went in complete anti-thesis with the facade she pulled for everyone - And just like twins are, like Yin and Yang, she was truly the complete opposite of her bright sister that held a dark soul.

But days began to rapidly pass by, and with each day, countless of problematic events happened, that made Lucifer, and not only him, pissed off beyond belief, at the younger sister, and the older one was forced to bare the consequences and solve the problem..

These continuous occurrences started eroding her soul, bit by bit, darkening it, overshadowing her light, and it was beginning to concern the raven haired man, for, in the end, it was still his job to make sure the humans are okay and comfortable in Diavolo’s Kingdom.

Exams were coming along, and Lucifer could see Y/N was beginning to become much paler and less talkative. He didn’t see her as often outside of the classroom, and even to meals that they would always share together...And he began to worry.

He knows very well that humans are very frail, weak and sensitive creatures, that constantly needed to be taken care of, and he knew very well that she wouldn’t have much until she’d collapse.

“Does anyone have a pen, please? All of mine have been completely used up, and I need to urgently finish an assignment.”

Speak of the devil, Lucifer thought, as his D.D.D.’s notification sound popped on his study desk, where he, himself, was also working on his own assignments, and he chuckled at the coincidence, and pondered over if he should tease her a bit, to provoke her, or not.

Something that Lucifer always loved was to push someone’s boundaries...Not some pushover like Mammon, clearly, but strong, dominating people, much like Satan, much like himself. He wanted to see how far can he push someone until they get angry, until they lose their composure, until they show their true face, until their facade crumbles, and they are no longer the self they show to everyone.

It’s satisfying seeing others step on their pride...

Since he would never do that, clearly. He isn’t the Avatar of Pride for nothing.

Asmo: Nope! I only have my personalised, engraved pen, and I can’t give it to everyone! Beel: Sorry, I accidentally ate all my pens while trying to write my homework. Belphie is sleeping. Levi: I don’t have pens, I write everything on my laptop. Satan: I always misplace mine. I only have the one I keep in my notebook. Mammon: Lol, you’re doing homework? Hah, what a dork! Sorry, I ain’t using Goldie to buy pens! Why not ask your sister? Anyka: You bought 10 pens barely 2 weeks ago, how the hell did you even finish them? Y/N: I have a lot to do. Do you have any spare pens? Anyka: Lol nope x Ask Lucifer or idk Barbatos??

The opportunity is shining, so...Should he start provoking her? Or would that break her even more? This should certainly be interesting... And if anything happens, he always knows when to put a stop to this charade. “I have a spare fountain pen, if it would do.” he sent her a DM, waiting for an answer. “Perfect. Are you in your study, or your bedroom?” she sent an immediate answer, which made him smirk. “Study. If you beg me nicely, I can also give you the ink for it.” he was playing with fire, and damn, was it exhilarating. “You...Want me to...Beg? For a pen and ink? To do my assignments? I don’t think Diavolo would be pleased to hear that.” she typed after an obvious few moments of hesitation. “Sometimes compromises must be made in order to achieve your goal. You are aware, I am sure, that if you do not finish your homework for tomorrow, you will receive detention.” this was getting very interesting, and he couldn’t wait to see what her next step would be. “Fine. I will ask Barbatos then. Thanks for the offer. Have a pleasant night.” she cut him off with clear acid in her words, which made Lucifer chuckle in satisfaction.

She was though, and entertaining. What an adorable little lamb.

And it was true, she asked Barbatos, who told her that he couldn’t go over to the House of Lamentation, for he has to take care of Diavolo, and he refused to allow her to leave the dorms without someone by her side to make sure no stray demon attacks her.

That was a true bummer.

So...She had to step on her pride to get a stupid pen to finish her assignments. It wasn’t even homework, but she still had hours of work she had to do. It was barely midnight, she couldn’t even attempt to go sleep now.

Going to sleep means obvious overthinking, which means lack of sleep, so better be productive and work, then destroy yourself more than you already are, doing nothing, while staring and cursing the ceiling.

Y/N sighed, breaking the pen in two out of anger, and wobbly got out of her study chair, making a bee line to Lucifer’s study and knocking on the door, waiting to hear the approval word to enter the room. She barely opened the door, walking in front of the seated form of Lucifer, who held his spare fountain pen almost mockingly in front of her.

He was watching her like a hawk, every movement analysed as if under a microscope, almost as if he was carefully searching for any flaw or mistake she would make. However, he could see she wasn’t well. She was sleep deprived, her complexion was much paler than normal, she had dark bags under her eyes...And her posture was slouched, almost sloppy. Lucifer knew she has always been a diligent person, so the homework couldn’t possibly be long overdue. She would have done it in the day it was given. So...What was the urgency? Could it be that...She was...Just like him?

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to beg for a pen, but, Lucifer, may I please borrow your pen? I promise to return it to you tomorrow, buy a new ink, to your preference, as soon as classes are over and I can go to proper shopping.” her voice was tired, just like her mind and body. She held no emotions in her words. It was almost as if she was intentionally damaging herself to make up for-

Oh.

Perhaps she wasn’t as different from him as he thought she was, and now, at least, he can better understand why she was deteriorating as fast as she was.

“You can keep it, I don’t mind. However, as the head of the student council, and the one who has to overlook this exchange program, I would have to advise you to take better care of yourself and rest, instead of overworking yourself.” Lucifer told her, with a less condescending voice, only to receive a sarcastic scoff, which confused him. “Tell me that when you’re going to follow your own advice.” and she left.

A chuckle escaped his mouth as soon as the door was closed, and for the first time in ages, he actually went to bed early...For his standards. He had to be very attentive of this one, however...She was much more interesting than he believed.

And the first thing he saw in the morning, as he stepped in the classroom, he saw Y/N handing a file to her sister - A file with all the homework for the whole week, that is - And now he could understand why she was overworked. She was going about life in all the wrong ways...Not that he should be one to talk. He knows his own faults, but admitting them to another is a complete different matter.

But things were going to take a horrid turn for the worst, beginning with Diavolo calling everyone for the Student Council meeting, only to announce that the exchange students were going to have a lowered pass/fail line anymore, but will have to work and achieve the demons’ standards and rise to the challenge given.

“If you’re going to control a demon’s powers, you need to have a proper understanding of them and how they should be used.” Diavolo said, which made him realise that the twins, somehow, managed to make pacts with all of the brothers...All of them, sans one. That one being himself, of course. “Hey, whoa, that’s a bit sudden, don’t you think? Exams are just around the corner!” Anyka protested, obviously shocked. “RAD exams are surprisingly tough.” Belphie nodded in agreement. “I’m sure both of you are going to do great, especially if you’ve studied a little bit throughout the semester.” Diavolo smiled, as usual, and the older twin mimicked no emotion on her face. “But...! But I haven’t! I had fun with the brothers all this time...What am I gonna do?! Y/N, say something!” the younger twin shook her sister, waking her up from her trance. “Hmm...? What should I say? He’s right.” she shrugged, not bothering to look at anyone. “I’ve already considered that, and I have a plan. Satan, you are going to be tutoring Y/N and Anyka up until the day of exams.” Lucifer dumped the responsibility on the blond brother, who was barely able to say anything from the shock of being put on the spot. “Oh, that’s perfect! Thank you soooo much, Satan! You’re the best!” Anyka jumped on the 4th born, who chuckled awkwardly. “Thanks, but I can do this by myself. If this was all, then I’m going to see you during the exams. Bye.” she gave a brief peace sign, before leaving to her room, no doubt continuing her studying.

Obviously, Lucifer knew she had it in the bag if she focused. She’s a smart girl, she won’t have any problem...If she stays healthy, that is. There was something about her that made him want to approach her, to hold her face, to look her in the eyes and tell her to stop doing this to herself. There was something about her innocence and heart that made him want to protect her at all cost, even if that meant protecting her from herself. He pondered offering to tutor her, but what could he even tutor her about, when she clearly knows everything there needs to be learnt about the exams?

He wanted to kiss her hands and reassure her that everything will be okay, and he wanted to hold her tight and help her fall asleep without having running thoughts through her head all the time.

But he can’t do that, can he? If he were to approach her, she’d run away, like a scared little baby fawn trying to find her mama, while being chased off by a hunter. He had to be gentle with her, delicate, to lure her into a sense of security and safety...A warm haven by his side...

But can he really manage to do that, when he’s supposed to be the Big Bad Scary Wolf who punishes everyone and doesn’t allow happiness in the dorms, as per so gracefully described by his lovely brothers?

The first day of the exams came much faster than Y/N realised - She had no idea how time flew by so fast, it felt like she just blinked and bam, exam days - So here she was, drinking her 3rd coffee for the morning while writing her answers for the exam.

Caladrius Blood was the third ingredient for that famous ancient elixir that required Powdered unicorn hood and bittergrass root, for the Magical Potions exam from that morning...

A forest, what covered the surface of Devildom shortly after it came into existence, the answer for the History exam from the afternoon...And a three-legged crow being the relief sculpture at the entrance to the Devildom royal tomb...

Yes, these were all incredibly easy questions, she had no problem, clearly. And that was the same for the 2nd day, with the hexes and curses... And then came the practical exam...Seductive Speechcraft test.

She looked around the classroom with a frown, knowing she had to pair up with someone, but all the brothers were crowding around her sister, and she could only sigh, looking down with her arms crossed, not knowing what to do.

“Would you like to pair up with me, Y/N?” Lucifer’s voice rang soothingly in her ear, making her turn around, her eyebrow raised in confusion. “You...Want to pair up...With me?” she asked in a slow, unsure voice, which made him smile and nod. “Yes, is something wrong with that?” he bent down slightly, getting closer to her face. “No, of course not. I was just...Surprised that anyone wanted to pair up with me. Anyway, we should get started.” she nodded, looking away from him and guiding him to a more secluded part of the classroom. “You have to be the one doing the seducing. I am really curious how you are going to proceed. Could you, perhaps, be...Scared?” with his infamous smirk, he looked smugly at how her otherwise unfaltering facade began to break slightly. “No...It’s just...If I knew I was going to be the one doing the seducing, I would have put on some make up this morning, so I wouldn’t look like I just woke up from death after being buried for 100 years...No, make that 1000 years.” she corrected herself after taking a quick look at her reflection on her D.D.D. “I can assure you, your appearance, for us, demons, won’t change a thing. It’s the words and gestures that matter.” he let out a soft chuckle, watching her nod in acknowledgement. “Okay, if you say so, then I will have to believe you. Can you promise me that you won’t attempt to kill me...Again...No matter what I say or do? Trust me, I want top grades, and I’m going to do anything in my power to snatch them.” her voice now was much firmer, and it sounded clearer, more confident. It was clear that her pride and ambition were on the line, and he wanted to see how she was going to seduce him. He could feel electricity running through his veins from the excitement. “Yes, of course. I won’t do anything to you. In fact, I will be the human, and you will be the demon. You have all the power now. Amaze me, Y/N.” he watched her turn to the side slightly, as if preparing her A-Game face - He was expecting her to try out an impersonation of a succubus, since they were plenty in Devildom, but what she did...Was beyond Lucifer’s power of comprehension.

Her eyes held a glimmer of innocence and pity, her soul somehow seemed to glow with purity and light, just like it was when she first arrived. Her demeanour wasn’t assertive, confident and mysterious, but held a tint of submissiveness and glowing affection, as if she wanted to touch him, but she was too afraid to approach a deity.

He thought that, as he gazed with interest at the girl in front of him, only to be shocked completely by how sweetly alluring her voice could sound, and he almost felt the need to have her cup his face so he could melt into her warm, soothing caress.

“Lucifer...Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Have you noticed how your health is starting to decline? I know you are a demon, and a few hours cut off your usual sleeping schedule won’t mean much for you, but you are exhausted, Lucifer. I hate seeing you like that...Overworking yourself...Finding more work to get piled under, even if you’ve already finished your assignments. I worry about you, and your health...But more...I worry about the reasons for your overworking. I know you’re trying so hard to keep away all the intrusive thoughts that keep plaguing your mind...You think that working to exhaustion is going to keep your mind busy, so you’ll sleep without having to overthink.” hearing those words, Lucifer truly wondered if she had veela or succubus genes in her family, or if her tongue was laced with the sweetest poison there is. She slowly approach him, gingerly holding both of his hands, looking down, imitating a timid kitten, and guiding him to the nearest chair behind him, so she could be at his height...Just a little above, creating the perfect angle to change from a submissive expression, to a more dominating, seductive gaze.

“You’re always so concerned about your brothers, wanting to make sure everything goes perfectly, to the plans that you create, because if things go out of control, you are afraid they will have to suffer...Just like it happened when you led the Rebellion. You still feel guilty for what happened. You are afraid that they regret following you...And so, you are purposely hurting yourself...And this self-inflicted pain became your own sense of comfort and defense. You are afraid that, if somehow, you indulge in your pleasure and the pain disappears, things are going to go out of control completely. You are afraid of the unknown and what it could bring...But trust me, Lucifer...I promise you...They love you. They love you, just as much as you love them. They don’t regret following you. You are a family, and they are happy and content staying together, all 7 of you, together. You deserve to be happy too, Lucifer. You deserve to allow yourself a day off from all this mess, and indulge in your pleasures.” she was so close to him, whispering in his ear, then crouching down, holding his hands, keeping them together and kissing them softly, sending shivers down his spine...But more, he froze completely on the spot. He was shocked...His mind was almost completely blank...Because...How could she possibly know all of this? How can she speak like that? She’s just a human...So...How...? Surely, his brothers had no idea, so how could she, a mere human who came by less than an year ago, understand and know him so well? His heart was beating fast, and it was in pain. It was expecting...It was conflicting everything he ever stood for. A day off? A day for himself? A day of self-care? A day...With her...?

“Won’t you allow me to take away the pain, just for the night? Allow yourself to feel something else other than pain and misery. Allow yourself to be happy. To feel emotional pleasure. Allow yourself to be yourself again, only for a night, because Lucifer, you are not a robot, or a machine, you are not programmed, wired, or running or petrol or gasoline. You have a beautiful heart that feels so much, but you are afraid of the myriad of unknown emotions that are desperately trying to burst out and scream at you to let loose...Because you can. You showed me that you are capable of letting loose, when we were stuck in Levi’s game. Do you remember, Lucifer? We were up on the roof, you had your hair in my lap, and I stroked it gently...You were smiling so beautifully...So carefree...Because you had no worries on your mind or heart. You were yourself. And you were happy.” she put her forehead to his, speaking softly, barely above a whisper, but despite her tone, her words spoke loudly, strongly, into his heart, making it pump faster and faster, energy shooting through his every nerve, vein, artery and capillary...His mind was completely captivated, and his heart was captured. Without even realising, his lips were parted and his eyes were wide from the shock, imagining himself in this utopic paradise that she created merely with her words.

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Lucifer. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” she was perfect. She didn’t break her act for not even a split second. The sparkle in her eyes was there from the beginning to the end, and he could feel her fast-beating heart - It was regular for her, as she had the heart rate of a rabbit - It almost seemed natural for her to persuade and sweet-talk anyone like that. Without even realising it himself, he took her hand, looking at her eyes with an expression of wonder, awe and complete fascination...Until she gave him a devilish smirk, and her eyes started glinting with mischief, which made him frown slightly in confusion.

“I won.” was the last thing she said to him before pulling away from him completely, retorting to her bland and pained, exhausted demeanour. “If I made even Lucifer look at me with glazed eyes and made him take my hand, to take him to some dreamland oasis, then I’m sure I deserve the highest mark in the class.” she chuckled with a deadpan expression on her face, not looking at him. “How...Did you do that?” he asked in a low voice, almost not believing what just happend. “Oh, that was possibly the easiest thing I’ve ever done in a long while. You see...I hold great pride in being incredibly intuitive, perceptive, detail-oriented and being able to properly read people...And their hearts. If I had Asmo, I would have told him that he has an amazing personality, and he’s not just all-looks. If it was Mammon, I’d have showered him with praises. If it was Beel, I would have played the family, Lilith and guilt card...And the list goes on. If you, however, are asking how I managed to say all the right words to you...Well...It’s a bit different...And personal.” she spoke, looking at the teacher with a half-smirk as she was given the highest mark, and rightfully so. “What could be so personal that you managed to speak to me as if you are some ancient demon who has been luring people for aeons with her sweet words laced with acid?” he stood up, looking down at her with a stern expression, yet his mind and heart were fighting a war of conflict. “...I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.” the raven haired man could see sadness clouding her face, before leaving to her room.

That was a true experience for Lucifer, he couldn’t deny that to himself, and more, for the whole day, no matter how much he tried to work - Her words kept haunting him, and as soon as he picked up the pen, he immediately thought back at the exam and threw it back on the desk.

He tried taking a hot bath, tried listening to that TSL soundtrack, but she was the one to give it to her, after she spent a fortune on Akuzon for his birthday present, but of course, he thought back at her, and he had to stop the music altogether.

Everything he did, he was reminded of those words that held the flavour of the Poison Apples he eats so often, and it was driving him insane. He could feel his brain overheating, and the pressure on his chest was so great that he wanted to dig his nails into his chest and rip apart the flesh, take out the heart and stomp on his heart, because he couldn’t take it anymore. He was a demon, and he was a heavy sinner - He NEEDED to grab her hand and escape the horror of reality. He needed to feel that he wasn’t bound by space, nor time, a body or a brain - He needed to be just one soul, bound to another, to feel no more pain, no more reality - Only euphoria, content, happiness, pleasure.

He couldn’t believe he was so willing to give in to his desires, and it was only because of her. It was HER fault. And yet, her last words before her departure from the classroom kept echoing constantly -

“I told you everything I would have liked someone to tell me all this time.”

He was right all along.

She truly was like him. She was the only one who could properly understand him, and likewise, he was the only one who could take her pain away. Maybe it was his guardian-complex, having to constantly look after someone, needing to be useful to someone... He needed her, as much as she needed him... Because, unlike him, she could easily waste away, as she is nothing more than a human resembling the first Snowdrop in Spring. He could resist until the end of this world, just as he has done until now, but she couldn’t.

The endless train of thoughts was interrupted by yet another knock on his door, that proved to be the same person that plagued his mind - The little lamb walked into the wolf’s den, almost as if summoned, out of her own accord.

To bring him back his fountain pen, along with the promised high-quality ink...It made him chuckle at how adorable and thoughtful she was being, without realising.

“...You are troubled by something. Do you...Want to talk about it...Or should I leave you alone? I did say some pretty heavy words today, I understand if you wouldn’t want to stay in the same room as me for a while.” she gingerly put the items on his study, not looking up at him. “How come you never looked me in the eyes until then?” he asked, looking at her from the office chair. “I...Was never able to look anyone in the eyes, in my life. Now even my sister or my mother. It makes me start panicking...I get intimidated and scared...So I look away. I forced myself to behave the way I was supposed to, but it was the last thing from comfortable. Don’t take it personal.” she chuckled awkwardly, stepping back. “I was surprised that your words had such an impact that I was ready to follow you...But would you follow me? Would you be able to do the very thing that you told me just today? Would you be willing to strip away that facade of yours, take care of yourself, and allow your heart to feel again?” he asked, stepping slowly in front of her, almost resembling a predator prowling to its prey. “...I don’t want to break down and cry, because if I do...Things will only go downhill, very fast and very hard. I’m...Usually on a downward spiral, but when the wave hits...It takes a long time to swim back to the surface...And I’m sure for how many more times will I have the strength to move and breathe.” she muttered, shuffling on her feet, and Lucifer could understand very well. He could see how frail she has become, and it was all because her brain was working against her so heavily, for whatever reason that was eroding her so badly. “If you promise to stay by my side, I will be here to hold your hand and pull you out of the stormy tides. I will walk next to you for your whole journey, until you get tired of me. You just have to take my hand and let yourself be...Let yourself feel. Let out all the pent up emotions, then smile at me, because you have a beautiful smile, and I haven’t seen it in ages. I know you are afraid...It is frightening walking alone, in the dark, with so many monsters around you, ready to gnaw and maul at you...By I will be there, waiting for you, guiding you with a flashlight, ready to hold and protect you...So...What will you do, Y/N? Do you seek salvation and happiness, or are you ready to give up on yourself and want to succumb to the bottomless pit of the abyssal ocean you were thrown into.” he mimicked the way she talked, the way she moved, the way she articulated her words, as he took his gloves off, touching her face and softly caressing it, bending slightly to peer into her eyes.

He could see that she was afraid - She was beginning to tremble, her eyes were glossy, brimming with tears, her bottom lip was quivering and the conflict of good and evil was obvious inside of her - Her hands were in the air, ready, but not entirely, to grab his hands...

“All you have to do is take my hand and follow me. It’s simple. You can do it, Y/N. Let yourself feel. Let yourself be...What do you say?” he mimicked her own words, wanting to see if it would be enough of a push for her

Choosing was truly a mortifying experience, but she was strong, he knew that - And that was made obvious when her shoulders finally started shaking, her breath becoming ragged....

And she threw her arms around his torso, letting rivers and rivers of tears fall down her already exhausted face. Her body was so small compared to his, so small...And so cold, in his warm arms...He couldn’t help but hold her tighter, stroking her hair soothingly, putting a kiss on the top of her head.

“Please take care of me, I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I-I don’t want to leech off of you...I’ve always been everyone’s therapist...And I know how much it sucks...B-But you’re the only one who ever bothered to show me any kindness and understanding. Please, Lucifer, don’t let me drown...I’m so tired of swimming...I can’t go on.” her sobs were so pitiful and broken that it shattered his heart and resolve, and all he could do was guide her to the bed, knowing she was too weak to sit up for too long, and started rocking her gently, as he would do with his brothers long ago, in the Celestial Realm, whenever they were upset or had a nightmare.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’m here, and I’m not going away until you tell me to. You won’t drown...You grabbed the lifeline the second you took my hand, and I’m going to make sure you keep floating above the sheen of the water and have no problem breathing.” he reassured her, knowing very well how hopeless it feels being in that situation...But now they could at least cling onto each other for help, support, love brightness.

“How...? How did you know everything...?” she asked, clutching on his shirt, almost as if the harder she pulled, the better the chances of survival. “Because the very words you told me are what you needed to hear the most.”

247 notes · View notes

undignifiend · 3 years

Text

Been thinking about my oc Warden again. Might play with his design a little more, too, we’ll see. In the meantime, here’s some notes on him:

Warning for vague naughtiness and safe vore mentions below the cut. ;)

+++++

+Excuse me, officer, that’s my Emotional Support Creeper

+The chillest, chonkiest, and most well-adjusted of all my Trollhunters ocs by a long shot.

+For those new to him, he’s a changeling who runs a lucrative side-business where he uses his big troll form as a “one-of-a-kind lifelike animatronic run by cutting-edge AI tech” for “simulated” experiences with human clients. Proceeds go to the Janus Order, but he keeps a cut to keep his cover smooth and occasionally indulge in luxuries. He meets all kinds of people, and enjoys interacting with them in contexts where they aren’t frightened (or truly frightened). Gives amazing aftercare and massages (whether anything spicy happened or not, if that’s what a client wants. It’s not all spicy, but he does enjoy indulging such whims, within his own limits).

+He’s got strict rules to keep people safe in these instances (repeat customers mean more money and connections). He can get rough if they want, but he has his own limits as to how rough he’ll go. Will pin people (not enough to crush them) and make them recite The Rules (discussed later) if they try to ignore them because “he’s a machine, he’s not real”. That’s his first warning. Any subsequent violations terminate the session. No refunds.

+Disaster Bi/Pan. Very romantic and enjoys making clients (and partners outside work) feel thoroughly cared for. Doesn’t get attached as easily as he seems to, but when he falls, he falls hard.

+Has a weakness for stories about superheroes with secret identities. Will occasionally do vigilante work, and covers his tracks carefully.

+Diligent about his hygiene. On one hand, he sees it as respectful to his Familiar to keep his human form clean and good looking. (Though this sometimes looks like vanity to those who don’t know any better. He really is quite vain about his troll form, though.) And on the other, humans tend to be far pickier (even if less sensitive) than trolls about smell, and his side-business model relies on reassuring them that they’re in a safe, clean, relaxing environment.

+In his human form, he plays one of the bartenders and bouncers for a hotel near the wilderness that is classier and more successful than anyone paying attention to it would suspect, given its somewhat remote location. It sees just enough traffic (including private events and conventions) to maybe justify it, and he contributes some of his earnings to helping the place thrive. It’s his cover, where his clients meet him face-to-(human)-face, so he’s invested in keeping it respectable, which also helps encourage clients to come back for more. He also drives his clients to the even more remote caves (warded by enchantments that disguise signals to give false reports of where they actually are to any tracking devices or scrying attempts) where the scenarios take place, and drives them back to the hotel afterward. Before a session, his human form takes the client(s) to the room where the session will occur, and he “leaves to monitor the AI” through an off-limits passage that loops through a fake “control room” to another, bigger passage for his troll form to enter from.

+The humans working at the hotel have an understanding with him, though they don’t know what he is. He occasionally departs to see to this “side business”, and so long as nobody questions or talks about it, or puts a tracker on his car, or any shenanigans like that, he contributes a cut of his pay to the hotel. It also helps that he’s a dependable and amiable co-worker, and no one around him has suspiciously vanished yet.

+Still, some employees feel like it’s a deal with a devil. He’s been there long enough that it’s starting to become apparent that he either uses a damn good moisturizer, or he doesn’t age. That, and he’s preternaturally strong and fast. On the rare occasions that fights break out, he ends them quickly, and his injuries recover fast despite his avoidance of hospitals. He’s getting to the point where he’s going to have to start fresh elsewhere soon.

+More relaxed in his troll form, but for different reasons than Dezoka. He sees his human form as borrowing his familiar’s image, prefers to treat it with dignity, and doesn’t take disrespect to it lightly.

+Before his current business model, he used to rob banks as an outlaw. Proceeds also went to the Janus Order to help fund their operations.

+Primarily relies on his size, strength, and situational awareness in (and before) combat. He’s not an especially skilled fighter compared to Dezoka, Ulvek, or Zahnn, (he’s a bit out of practice since his outlaw days, and it’s been a long, long time since he’s had to contend with the Darklands) but he’s resilient, observant, and hits hard.

+Loves to eat people (in all the fun ways). His stomach can double as a portable high-security safe holding cell. Not a big fan of keeping prisoners that way. He’ll bitch and grumble, but he’ll still do it if he thinks he has to. Prefers willing participants. He’s kinda spoiled on them, and the idea of someone trusting him enough for it makes him really happy, and is his favorite indulgence.

+Where that particular bit of physiology is concerned, I’ve been thinking of designing a group of trolls with this trait and figuring out how his particular safe vore shenanigans might work. Warden’s stomach lining is peppered with many thousands of specialized, regenerating cellular nodes that exchange O2 and CO2 gases from his own bloodstream for his “guest’s” benefit, so suffocation isn’t an issue for anyone inside so long as Warden can keep breathing. His stomach also contains a mild acid that won’t do much more than gently exfoliate and disinfect open wounds (it’s got a pH of about 4 or 5, which I think is typically alright for skin anyway). The acidity ramps up in cases where a high amount of necrotic tissue is detected, to digest it before it rots further, and to kill any infection that might in turn infect him. This can also damage any living tissue still attached to the dead stuff, which will hurt for anyone still alive (so it’s not a good treatment for seriously injured folks), but after the dead tissue is eaten away, the pH will return to a more neutral zone - but remain acidic enough to keep open wounds disinfected as a guest’s body recovers. His stomach can also mildly aid recovery through gentle contractions to massage a guest and improve circulation while they’re curled up in there. But he will use his hands a lot, too. He loves being full and holding people this way.

+‘The Rules’ (including safe words) are customizable and negotiated before a session is even paid for, both for clarity’s sake, and “for programming adjustments”. All involved decide what they want and what their boundaries are. A client can change their mind if they decide they don’t actually want to do something, but Warden will not agree to any last minute additions that involve a safety/trauma risk. For example, if a client decided that they want him to swallow them whole, they can change their mind mid-session if they’re too nervous to go through with it (and can change their mind back again if they decide that they actually feel ready). But if they ask him to do it during a session where that was not planned, he will decline. Reluctantly. Even if it's safe, he understands it can also be really terrifying for those who aren’t ready, and he prefers to err on the side of caution where that’s concerned. Fearplay is great, and he loves playing up the role of a wicked, cruel predator - but that's the sort of thing that has to be discussed first so the client knows they have the power to stop it if it gets too intense.

+How to convince him that you’re Evil Incarnate: He has a sweet tooth and a serious weakness for foodplay and stuffing. It’s the most effective way to tease the daylights out of him, so he always gets a bit nervous when this comes up in establishing a session’s Rules. Doesn’t fluster easily, but just thinking about this will do it. Especially loves it as a prelude to vore. Will also do this without vore, but it’s kind of a struggle to hide just how wildly hungry and desperate that leaves him. He’ll be a professional about it, and he won’t violate The Rules or try to pressure a client/partner no matter how desperate he gets. Stuffing himself silly doesn’t fix it, either, it just leaves him delirious and aching for live, warm squirming in his stomach. Belly rubs and mouthplay are the cruelest little cherries on top. If he thinks his client/partner knows what they’re doing to him, he’ll be ticked off, but also impressed and intimidated. Either way, he won’t be able to stop thinking about them and wanting to take them somewhere nice and hold their hand and move in together and sappy stuff like that. And eat them, of course. He’ll lose a lot of sleep over just how badly he wants to eat them.

#safe vore #changeling oc #vague naughtiness #character notes #roleplay notes

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beastsars · 4 years

Text

idiomatic | louis (beastars) x carnivore!reader

i wont promise that i’m over this trope, but i think i have fed myself enough to focus on other avenues. a few people sent in some legoshi stuff so that’s my next wip. keep them coming.

as usual, more mature content below. some fun times at the masquerade party.

“and what, pray tell, am i to do about these antlers?”

pursing your lips, you gave the stout head ornaments an accusatory look. those with distinctive marking and other decorative characteristics often had the hardest time concealing their species. it was easy enough to distinguish between herbivore and carnivore but the fun was found in simply not caring.

if your target audience put in enough effort to disguise themselves.

parties like these broke both social and sexual boundaries, allowing people to lose inhibition and act on their baser selves. before you met louis, such environments frequently occupied your time off campus. it helped to stimulate your attraction to the opposite dynamic and eventually bribe your courage to seek out a suitable partner.

bringing him here was symbolic of returning to your roots. it would also show him that he wasn’t alone in his affections. not that the sentiment didn’t already hit close to home.

“too bad you’re not about to shed them,” you comment offhandedly, rightfully earning a sharp look of ire. chuffing at the display of pride, you vowed to yourself that you would show the male exactly what such strict dignity led him to lose out on.

patting his muzzle with unveiled condescension, you managed to slip away from his agitated grasp. the deer continued to gripe and moan while you fitted yourself into a choice dress for the evening and prowled the selection of shoes. honestly, the way pursuing beastar felt at ease displaying the less ideal parts of his personality would be endearing if it didn’t possess so much whining.

it hardly mattered. you would give him something else to occupy his attention.

catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you offered the image a self-appreciating wink before stepping out of the closet, one leg protruding ahead of you to show off your finely fitted heels.

“tell me, if i was a herbivore, would you still beg me to bite you?”

the curve of your buttock marked the cut off point of your dress, leaving little to the imagination as the rest of the material hugged your form. this clothing style opted without the aperture to fit a tail, allowing the appendage to swing idly from beneath the depths. it often incited others to perk your mood if only for a brief show.

louis has obviously seen you in less, but the presentation was too pungent with erotic intentions for him to remember anything else. grinning, you permitted his hands to edge the hem of your dress, warm palms marking promises against your thighs.

“and what exactly do you plan to be tonight?” he drawled slowly.

you knew that look. the one that was going to quickly get you out of this dress if you didn’t corral him into his own suit for the night.

pressing a chaste kiss to his nose, you nudged him towards the closet.

“i guess you’ll have to find out.”

you opted to rent out a mask for the evening. this way you could keep your choice hidden for a few moments longer and ideally find something fresh to attend the party in. you had a nice selection at home, but you’d cycled through them enough that somebody would approach you out of familiarity.

upon arriving, you had put louis in the good hands of friends who helpfully escorted him out of your sight and into his own fitting room. but not without complaint as his sputtering curses trailed down the hall.

“he’s a cutie. he yours?”

offering a noncommittal shrug, you settled on a thinner, less intricate mask for the evening. your dress was inviting and memorable enough. in a place like this, it was hard to tell who would challenge a pair.

at the clink of glass against the table, you efficiently down the alcohol and reached for the bottle to chase the burn. sexual prowess aside, you possessed enough restraint to cater accordingly to the opposite disposition. it was more for the eased minds than anything else.

“you’ll have your hands full keeping females and males alike off of him. he’s a built boy. anyone would love to see what he’s packing,” there was a tease to the voice but desire had a place too. you doubted it would take long for subtlety to be washed out. proprietary didn’t exactly have a place here.

polishing off the rest your your drink, you made an effort to pat down any remaining wrinkles before donning your mask. “well, i better get to him quickly then.”

“it’s rather delicate. made of papier mache ,i think. do be careful, it’s borrowed.”

his words of warning were no match for your inquisitive touch, however, as you stretched up against his body to prod against the medium surrounding his antlers.

they’d fashioned him as a moose of all things.

you didn’t know how you hadn’t thought of it. but truly, it was the of the few options available to at least conceal his dominant species. without the stench of alcohol anyone would know he was a herbivore, but at least this way he would abide by the base rules.

the covering of his antlers was more of an addition than part of the mask. the inner workings using his antlers as a statue to hang the camouflage over. it was rather convincing.

when the costume creaked threateningly at your touch, louis’ hand shot up to snag your wrist.

“i said it’s fragile,” he insisted.

the hiss of his voice encouraged your gaze to drop to his mask to give it it’s own appreciation. it was certainly wider than his own face, marginally longer too, to account for the massive beast he was portraying. coupled with his slim but muscled body, even beneath the suit, he was likely to garner some provocative attention. it was a shame you had to break some many hearts openly tonight.

humming an octave lower than your usual voice, you pressed yourself against the male with your arms around his waist. chin propped against his chest, you offered a cheeky grin.

“so what do you think?”

forced to enter from the back due to his identifiable features, he’d wasn’t awarded to opportunity to take in the scenery. the night was young and tame as most of the individuals simply mingled and broke ice. you wondered how long it would take for habits to surface.

“it seems like any other social event,” he muttered distractedly. he was likely trying the mundane task of attempting to unveil species from beneath their masks. everyone fell privy to the game sooner or later.

louis palmed at your side,” more importantly, why do you smell so strongly of intoxication.”

“trade off of being a carnivore, unfortunately. herbivores feel safest when we’re too drunk off our asses to pull rank.” rising to toes you spoke with conspiracy in his ear while your free hand trailed down his midline. “personally, i think they just want to take advantage.”

the male didn’t take too kindly to being groped in public, quickly seizing your other hand as he hissed. “it seems they're not the only ones.”

unable to resist laughing, you let him have the control while it lasted. “baby, you have no idea.”

despite your best efforts, more than a few figures approached you in greeting. without the pleasantries of names, most of the conversation was geared towards speculative tastes and pillars of society. already trained in the practice small talk, louis led more of the conversation than he followed. his strong nature captured a majority of the attention anyway with his passionate disposition towards the arts.

sipping idly at something fruity, you leaned comfortably into his arm as your gaze wandered the party. as the night wore on, it was beginning to grow as more individuals showed up fashionably late. the amount of alcohol had doubled to accommodate as more trays made rounds. they naturally gravitated towards the carnivores more, no one ever having to reach more than an arms length for a glass.

louis laughed earnestly next to you, the pads of his fingers tracing odd shapes on your back as he transitioned smoothly into another topic. he seemed to be handling it all much better than you expected but the real festivities had hardly begun.

the moment the conversation began to veer towards the more illicit ventures of business, you politely excused yourselves to a less occupied corner of the room. dragging louis down by your grip at his elbow, you fell back eagerly into the plush couches.

“you seem to be enjoying yourself at least,” you mentioned as you leaned down to massage the muscle above the cut of your heel. your departure had a dual purpose as you really just need a moment off your feet. as exquisite as your shoes were, they rarely offered much comfort.

you hadn’t even realized that louis hadn’t even acknowledged your response as you switched to the other foot and ultimately debated taking them off while you rested. it certainly wouldn’t be the most unsightly proposition. eyes sliding shut, you leaned back again. maybe a few more drinks would change your mind about your less than ideal clothing choices.

at the sudden tension of muscle beneath you, your gaze snapped open to assess the problem.

“are they?”

from his broken articulation alone, you had an inclination of what was transpiring. you were wondering how long it would take.

humming delightfully from your position curled up against him, you followed his gaze across the room to a pair who decided to take initiative to properly get the get together started. clothing strewn this way and that, the left nothing to the imagination as they rutted against one another.

louis shuddered as your claw teased the fastens of his suit jacket but you didn’t go as far to pry the button from its place. in a situation like this, he was no better than a virgin and likely as easily frightened if approached wrong. not that it would stop you from proding.

“lou, you feel so warm. are you embarrassed?”

unable to help himself, the stag stuttered in his speech.” they’re practically mating in public.”

“ are mating in public,” you chided unhelpfully.

this was nothing new for you to partake in. with each new realization from louis as he experienced your world with naive eyes, it made you head buzz from the thrill of it all. you leaned away from him long enough to snag a floating flute from the hovering attendant. it wasn’t as strong as what you’d knocked down prior but hopefully it would be enough to ease some of the tension from his shoulders.

nibbling at the exposed tuffs of his ears, you prompted him to drink. seemingly grateful for the distraction the male downed the champagne without a second thought.

he really was such a bundle of nerves.

ignoring his startled grapple at your sides, you lifted a leg over his lap and settled on top of him. your body didn’t offer much of a shield, but your weight was enough of a diversion.

by partaking in the drink, he’d solved the mystery of where the mouthpiece of his mask for you. with confidence, you were able to tilt up his head and slot your mouths together. he resists at first, the protest only give you the opening to slide your tongue between his lips.

you moan eagerly and vocally, utilizing your own sounds to drown out the commotion behind you. you capture his bottom lips between your teeth, swallowing the sweet taste of his gasp as you test him by grinding softly. the pinch of his fingers don’t go unnoticed but he doesn’t try to stop it either.

breaking away with a harsh pant of your own, you make a slow effort of loosening the buttons of his jacket, giving him every opportunity to escape the proposition.

“this is why i brought you here, lou.”

his grip at your hips pulsed like a heartbeat, fluctuating in intensity as he traded glances between you and the moving bodies around you. it generally only took one couple to take the plunge for the others to follow suit.

the wide room was starting to truly burst with life, coating the walls with a lustful aura. masks of all shapes and sizes engaging in causal conversation while observing the unhurried fucking of others as if in a pristine museum.

you let him keep the jacket on to give him some sort of protection, still mindful of his frazzled psych as you left chaste kisses along his neck.

“what? so i’d fuck you in public?” learning from his dramatic prose on stage, louis seemed to be snatching at all of his talents to compose himself. you snatched yet another flute of something more colorful this time, tipping against his lips without warning to bring his attention back to your small corner.

“not that . if you pay attention, you’d see they aren’t unlike us.”

latching your lips back to his throat, you mouthed your words as the glass trembled against his.

“see that ox and flamingo over there? the first is a mountain goat, i can’t pinpoint the species but i recognize the stance. and the pretty little thing he has bent over the banister, a lynx- see, there’s her cute little tail wagging.” your nose traces his jaw. “herbivores and carnivores sharing heated passion without ostracization. it’s not just a kink, louis, it’s a lifestyle.”

you can see the moment the clarity parts the clouds of his cognition. gone is the speculation as he comes to terms with the hidden intentions of your invitation. it was rare that you did anything subtly with him, he often having ot maintain propriety.

there were obviously other factors staked against either of you going public with your relationship, the most prominent lighting a slow spark toward the eventual dissolution of your arrangement. but he had never really thought past his own adoration of you. by now it was beyond the scope of just the sexual nature/ yet without positive societal examples,, he was often left scrambling with labeling his feelings.

while this-gathering to say the least- wasn’t the best example to base his own experiences on as he took it all in, it wasn’t hard to see where the stark black and white began to blur.

leave it to you to utilize the most extreme to make a point.

louis surprised you then by breaking his inner monologue and fitting his hand against the smooth column of your throat. his hold much more self-assured than before. the gradual change shot straight to your core as you wriggled.

“but you didn’t answer me.” the hold pulls your mouth away as he forcefully captures your attention this time. there is no doubt that most of his valor is a product of the mask, no different than the one he wears on stage. but your relative appreciate drew together more likeness between the two than you were willing to admit. louis always put so much effort in commanding an audience that he rarely was able to admire how effortlessly he was able to do so with you.

“a lot a pretty words when the truth of it all was just that you wanted to bring me here to make a show out of yourself.” louis felt his own arousal spike as the truth of the statement struck him as well. “you want them all to see how much you love to take it from a herbivore.”

you answer with a hasty nod, breathing hitching under the restraint you’d functioned with until now. “please, lou. dominate me.”

it doesn’t take you long to adopt your shameless nature, hips undulating and grinding your core against his swelling erection. you still try to appeal to louis more kept disposition though, sliding close and sliding your hand between the gap to rub friction circles against the junction of his pants.

unable to resist teasing, you press the pad of your thumb against the tented head. “what a bad boy you’re being lou lou too. and you always accuse me of being the dirty slut.”

despite the natural restriction of his vocals, louis manages to growl, a flash of ire behind the mask. you arch as his hand wiggles under your dress, easily finishing your soiled undergarments and tucking them to the side. he slides two fingers home to the third knuckle without preamble.

“look at you, you’re even wetter than when we’re at home. you say this was for me, but look how shameless you are.” he starts to pump them in and out slowly, and you answer with a voluntary roll of your hips. he was right. you were desperate for him but the hardly changed given the setting or audience.

squeezing his shoulder for balance, you melt into a purring moan as his fingers curl within your depths. it takes more effort than it should to break your own trace to escape the pleasure enough to fumble with his zipper. louis exhales a long shuddering breath as your fingers close around him. you’re both ready without the threat of prematurity, riding on the exhilaration of the environment.

a shuddering sigh shatters the tension building within your throat as he replaces his fingers with his cock, dragging you down to take every inch of him until you’re sitting at the base. he doesn’t even reprimand you when you instinctively reach for his antlers, the thin paper crinkling under your touch as rotate you himself to ride the stuff arousal.

you were vaguely aware of your small circle being encroached on by observing parties. more grateful than anything that louis appeared to be more focused on you than their presence- a choked gasp scrambled from your lips as he brought you down in forceful thrust, a keen whine following.

when you tried to find his gaze, you found that it wasn’t even on you. the glassy haze flickering behind you around the room, holding a lazy challenge to any and every figure. it fed into the thrill to know he was getting off on the audience as much as you were.

louis pace was sloppy, but expected given the mixed influence of alcohol, your body and room around him. it all came together in the thickest mixture of lust either of you had had the privilege of sharing.

“you’re so beautiful. the world deserves to see you like this.”

a hasty nod of agreement is all you can manage, because the weight of his grounding hips and pounding thrusts are tearing away your grip on reality. you feel a piece of the mache tear away with your claws as you shudder around the drag of his cock as it sends you spiraling into release.

louis rides your aftershocks, succumbing to your quaking thighs and fluttering walls as you both collapse beneath the weight of your combined climax.

you fall forward against his chest, hiding all evidence of your joining as you soak in the thick musk. around you bodies shift again, their muttered compliment sticking to your body as they transition to the next showing. the two of you stay like that for a long moment, rising off the expansion of the others chest as you slowly collect yourselves.

curling your face into the side of his neck, you lapped gently, snickering when he twitched you’re life within your depths. pressing a kiss there you eventually manage to prop yourself up again.

“well the night’s still young and i see you’re up for another round. let’s give them their moneys worth.”

#beastars x reader #louis beastars x reader #beastars headcanon #beastars imagines

520 notes · View notes

morosoro · 3 years

Text

Reuben

Chapter 20

Summary: Reubens happy little Valentine’s Day bubble pops the moment he gets home.

Ao3 link here

He came home after school to find two visibly upset Scottish women taking tea on the sofa as his boy crawled about on the floor playing with a stuffed rabbit toy. Playing was a generous term, actually, Neal was more so just dragging it around and giggling as it moved each time his hand did. Quality entertainment for a baby, Reuben was sure.

He avoided the scowls from the older women as he crouched down to play with his son, gently taking the rabbit and making it wave to him. The babe giggled at that too. Oh what simpler times, when your happiness would depend on whether something moved or not. Reuben longed to be in the child’s place as Glynis cleared her throat.

“The Hatters called us yesterday.” She supplied.

Reuben huffed a sigh. He was getting tired of people asking about Jefferson. He’d had to answer several people today when asked, and not once had it been met with the aloofness he thought it deserved, Yes, they had a fight! It didn’t seem like a very big deal to him! “Yeah? What about it?” He asked.

“Mrs. Hatter informed me that Jefferson are no longer friends? That you told him to stop acting like himself? Now she didn’t explain precisely what happened, I get the impression she doesn’t know her son as well as she should, but Edith and I got the gist of it. And we are immensely disappointed. We thought we raised you differently.” The women told him, jaw set firm and spine rigid in her discontent.

“What? In the two months I’ve been here? Yes, a lot of raising done on your part.” He replied sardonically.

“You say that as if we weren’t pivotal caretakers of you since birth. You know full well we brought you up just as much if not more than your parents did. Now I suggest you start explaining yourself.”

“We had a disagreement. So what? It’s hardly the end of the world!” He was instantly in a sour mood as soon as this conversation had begun. He was so done having to explain himself to people who refused to understand. Even Belle had been upset with him when he told her what had happened in full. She’d told him he was in the wrong and that should apologize. He had thought out of all people she would’ve understood where he’d been coming from. Now his Aunts seemed to be antagonizing him too?! How come nobody could just give him the benefit of the doubt or see his side?!

“It was more than a disagreement and you damn well know it.”

It’s not like he’d really meant anything he said anyways. He just didn’t like the implications Jefferson’s words had set on the table. Jefferson needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all.

“Okay so I got tired of the jokes. I’m sorry that I don’t want people thinking I’m a bloody buftie who's shagging a dude behind his girlfriend's back.” He sneered, fed up of the conversation already. “I’m sorry for setting some god damn boundaries. In all honesty I think that if he were really my friend and not just hopeful he could ‘turn me queer’ or whatever then he would respect said boundaries.”

Edith gasped at his language, still remaining silent. Glynis’s glare only hardened. “You sound an awful lot like yer father saying words like that.” She said coldly.

His head whipped over to look her in the eye, bewildered rage taking root. How could she say that?! “You take that back!”

Glynis stared right back at him. “Or what? You’ll call us auld hags? Stomp around and break things?” After a beat of silence where he said nothing in preference of continuing to fiddle with his son’s stuffed toy, the woman continued. “Oh? Ignore us then? Your father liked to do that too.”

He stood to his full height quickly, discarding the rabbit as he went. He gestured sharply as he shouted. “Shut the hell up! I’m nothing like him!”

His son started to cry, obviously startled by the loud volume. He froze, staring down at the scared little boy in alarm. Oh no… what had he done? Had he hurt him- he didn’t think he did… but then again he had tossed away the toy pretty carelessly. Had it hit him? No! The idea made him sick.

Could he really be turning into a copy of his father? Was this proof?

Before he could think to reach for his son to try to comfort him, the boy was picked up by Glynis instead. “I wouldn’t be so sure, the lines seemed quite blurred lately.” She hissed in response.

“Glynis- please!” Edith pleaded, her expression softer but still troubled. “Give the lad break? He’s been through a lot lately.”

“That’s no excuse for bigotry and slurs! Did you not hear him, Edith? ‘Buftie’, ‘Queer’? Doesn’t that upset you?” The other woman asked, sounding incredulous.

“Well, yes…” Edith agreed before pausing to sigh lengthily. “But I’m also aware that he’s in a very tough spot. He’s still only a boy, see… He’s bound to have bad days and ugly moments. We all are, Love.” The other said, calm but firm. “ Besides, shouting at him and making him feel like shite won’t get us anywhere productive...”

Still holding the sniffling child, and with her jaw still set Glynis also sighed heavily through her nose. She seemed to calm slightly before deciding “Fine then, you deal with him. I’ll be taking Neal for a stroll down the paths. I suppose I could use some air.”

Edith nodded. “I think that’s best, dear. Thank you.” She then looked at her still visibly angry and hurting great-nephew. “Why don’t you go to yer room? Put on a tape, read a book… calm down some? I’ll come up and speak to you before dinner, Aye?”

Reuben, with clenched fists and hunched shoulders, let out a grumbled “Fine…” before hurrying his way upstairs.

—

He was only a couple chapters further into his copy of ‘Lord of The Rings’ (borrowed off of Moe, actually. The man had recommended it to him a couple of weeks ago) and the chorus to Genesis’ ‘Land of Confusion’ was playing when there was a knock on his bedroom door.

Sighing, he paused his cassette, marked his place in the book and called for the person to come in. To no surprise, Edith entered, and she had brought more tea for the both of them.

She sat herself on the foot of his bed and offered him the mug, he accepted it and took a sip. They sat in silence for a moment before she finally decided to speak. “You know lad, it doesn’t matter how upset you are, it’s never okay to be disrespectful.”

He stayed quiet, only grunting over the rim of his mug in response. She continued. “But we’re not going to talk about earlier today. Glynis and I are older than dirt, we’ve heard it all. We can take it. I want to talk about what happened with Jefferson.”

“We had an argument. What more is there to talk about?” He responded lowly.

“Why?” She asked. “Why were you arguing with him?”

“Because I was sick of the gay jokes.” He answered. “The ones that implied… stuff. I’m no feckin’ fag and he can’t bloody turn me into one!”

The woman let out a hissing sound, as if she had be burned. “See, what we’re not going to do is use terms like that.” She told him, stern voice in place. “Like Glinnie and I have both said, upset is no reason for disrespect.”

The teen was once again quiet as he sipped his tea again. The woman moved ahead in the conversation. “A person cannot ‘turn’ gay or straight. They either like the same sex or they do not. And it is not a bad thing to be that way.” She explained.

“Sure, okay… whatever.” He replied. “It still doesn’t fucking matter. He crossed a line and it made me uncomfortable so I told him to knock it off. That’s it. I don’t see why everyone’s making such a big deal out of it!”

“Because you hurt his feelings. And I think you knew what you said would hurt his feelings. That’s not okay, Reuben. You need to understand that.”

“I get it!” He barked. “I was just upset, okay? I lashed out. It happens…”

“Then it sounds like you need to work on controlling yourself. Maybe start by thinking things over before you say anything, like why Jefferson’s jokes upset you so much in the first place.” And with that she got up to leave again, throwing a casual “Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Over her shoulder as she went.

After the door shut behind her and he was by himself again he let out a frustrated growl. After setting down his tea, he drew his knees to his chest and raked his hands through his hair frustratedly, head hanging low. Why was he like this? Why was his anger like a light-switch? This was definitely something to bring up with his therapist next time.

He sighed then as he made a small connection in his head. Dr. Hopper had told him last time that he ought to take time for himself to think and figure things out and work on ‘self-improvement’. Edith had just told him to do pretty much the same thing. He glanced to his nightstand where the crinkled pamphlet-turned-coaster sat, and after a moment’s consideration, he reached for it, taking it out from under his mug. He turned to the second page.

‘Ask yourself ‘Why?’. Contemplate response. Consider your reasonings. Repeat.’

Why did Jefferson’s Joke upset you?

“Because it made me uncomfortable.” He mumbled.

Why did it make you uncomfortable?

“Because… I could picture it?”

Picture what?

‘I’m straight!’

‘So is spaghetti until you get it hot and steamy.’

‘Hot and steamy’

Hot and steamy...

“Fuck!” He growled out, tossing the pamphlet away. “This is bloody stupid! I’m not getting anywhere!” He told himself as he rubbed at his eyes, trying to will the unwanted images away. Seriously, what the hell was wrong with him today?! He hated it. He hated himself.

It was hard to believe today had started out so lovely, with his girlfriend in his arms and a promise ring in question.

“I need a nap.” He decided. “A long one.”

———

Doctor Hopper was a strange individual. The kind of man that made Reuben wonder how his son Archie had become… well… Archie. Guys like Archie tended to have strict, straight-edge, academics-obsessed fathers. The type with the big glasses and button-down shirts that they tucked so neatly into their khakis. They were a vision of who their sons would become, but not Doctor Hopper.

No, Doctor Hopper was more laid back. Yes, he wore khakis and button downs but in a much more sloppy-casual sense. His hair was long and he wore a cowboy hat atop his head. He didn’t tip-toe with his words, he just spoke freely from his thoughts (and his degree, hopefully). He was also just odd enough for Reuben to believe he’d likely had a few run-ins with the law in the past. Yes, Reuben could definitely see this man scamming people of their money, or being picked up off the street where he lay a drunk… or something… fool. And yet this man was somehow his therapist and he was supposed to trust him and his advice. It was certainly a peculiar situation.

They currently sat opposite each other, Reuben on a large leather sofa, and Dr. Hopper laid back in the matching armchair. The latter was having a cigarette as he listened to his patient’s concerns.

He puffed out a measured stream of smoke before speaking. “So, basically, you’ve been acting like a cunt to your friends and family and you don’t know why?”

“Uh…” Reuben shrugged his shoulders awkwardly. “Yeah?”

“You just freak out when you feel targeted? As in you just suddenly feel like you have to defend yourself… but really all you're doing is spewing shit?” At the teens nod the therapist took another puff, answering with his exhale “Sounds like anger issues to me, kid. Probably got it from the alcoholic disgrace you call a dad.”

Reuben huffed a worried sigh. “So what? You think I’m going to wind up like him?”

“Nah, unlikely.” The man responded with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You both have issues and bad trauma, but yours is just…” he mimicked the sound of an explosion. “Different. That stuff really shapes a person. You’ll be fine… or well… as fine as someone like you could be.”

Someone like him? He wondered what that implied. He didn’t want to ask. Instead he focused on the positive. “You think so?”

“Yeah, kid. As long as you keep trying to get better, hell yeah! Anger issues? No problem kid. We can manage that with just a bit of work.” The adult said before taking another draw.

Curious, Reuben asked him “What kind of work?”

“Thinking. Self-help work, kid. You know about it, it was in the pamphlet. First off, why do you think you were acting like a cunt in the first place?”

Running his hands through his hair, Reuben groaned. He should’ve known. “Because my friend was making jokes that I didn’t like. They made me uncomfortable.”

“Okay, but why?” The man prompted him to expand on it.

“Because they were implying something that I didn’t want to be implied.”

“So it’s something you’re insecure about then?”

That gave Reuben a moment’s pause. Was he insecure about his sexuality? “.... no?” At least he didn’t think so.

“You don’t sound sure about that.”

Fuck.

He huffed, frustration growing. “What do you mean? I’m definitely secure about it!” He snapped.

“Whoa man-“ the therapist warned. “Don’t go acting like a cunt on me now. I’m just trying to help you figure this out.”

The teen pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated with himself more than anything. “I know… I’m sorry. I just don’t know why it upset me.”

“Then you just gotta think a little deeper about it sometime. But don’t try to rush it. Take your time to figure you out, Y’know?”

“I-I guess?” They were quiet for a moment before he asked “What do you think the reason was?”

“Hey, I can’t really say for sure, I’m not in your head. But to me it just sounds like the jokes just hit too close to home. He hit a nerve, something you're insecure about and don’t want to address. Whatever it is, you should probably address it before you try to apologize to this guy. You do want your apology to be as genuine as possible, right?”

Confused and practically in a stunned silence, he realized the implication his therapist had just made. He only swallowed thickly and nodded, squeaking out a broken sounded “Yeah, right.”

#ouat #once upon a time #fanfic #rumbelle #Rumplestiltskin #high school au #80’s au #this is my ventfic

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eusamson · 4 years

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𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐅𝐈𝐓 : 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂.

samson has experienced his fair share of eonia parties ( both the dramatics of the night and the hungover infirmary calls the day after ), and while he’s not opposed to attending, it takes some cajoling on @euceleste’s part ( with help from @euizak ) for him to agree to join their matching disney outfits — and give himself a night off.

the costume is simple : a white dress shirt with red fabric sewn around the waist, and a pair of blue trousers borrowed from the musical theatre department’s extensive wardrobe. he’s not aiming to win any competitions, opting for comfort over craftsmanship and to be the ( platonic ) prince eric to celeste’s ariel.

little does samson know that he wouldn’t be making it to the main party at all.

the trail looms foreboding ahead, mist swirling thickly around booted feet like vaporous snakes catching at his ankles. he’s already been a test for many of the hecate house’s charms in the run up to halloween, so there’s slight trepidation as eyes scan the paper in front that requires a signature were he to enter ; a joke of ‘ do i need to sign this in blood ? ’ is thrown @eusage’s way, not predicting that his visit to best friend would inevitably have him being one of the first to try out their creation.

but before he can step over trail’s boundary the sound of hooves interrupts their conversation ; for a moment, samson thinks the noise is coming from within the mist, but soon a familiar figure materialises from the direction of campus and his trepidation grows deeper. callan — a satyr usually found in camp athens and someone samson has come to know as a friend — approaches, out of breath with a face pinched with worry. the satyr barely waits for acknowledgement before speaking directly to him, his appearance soon understood as he tells samson of a quest gone wrong and the severity of the injuries sustained by those that undertook it.

it’s aaron’s name that draws all blood from his face, dots connecting with callous clarity as to the dreams that had plagued his nights for the past week. aaron — his half-brother, barely 16, who he’d met on a placement in camp athens 4 years prior — was clinging to life by a thread, his own healing powers preventing the basilisk venom from being immediately fatal. but it was a race against time to save him, so samson leaves immediately with callan, a promise to keep in contact with sage when he can his farewell.

—

39 hours pass before aaron finally stabilises, all of the children of apollo in camp athens and those samson was able to summon from eonia on his way from campus doing everything in their power to prevent his death. samson doesn’t sleep ; he uses the time he’s forced to take a break to do something he never feels the need to do outside of self-written hymns, the bond with his father ever complicated. he prays for apollo’s help as the sun’s light brightens the horizon the day after halloween, and again when it sets, but the sky yields no response despite the rawness of emotion, his words unanswered.

by the time he’s sent back to eonia days later ( under strict orders to recuperate for a week, professors and polaris managers notified to ensure his compliance ) there’s an ever-present bitterness he can’t shake at his father for his enduring absence that curdles, resentful, like sour milk in the pit of his stomach. the apollo infirmary is closed — has been since the night of halloween, and will be until his forced recuperation is up — so he channels his emotions in other ways, withdrawing from friends and family alike to the sanctuary of archery range, dance studio and treetop obstacle course in order to vent his frustrations.

a healer that never heeds his own advice, rest is the last thing on his mind.

#euhalloween #[ ☼ / EU TASK. ]#[ ☼ / WRITING. ]#[ ☼ / VISAGE. ]#do NOT look at how late this is #i am on hiatus but i wanted to post smth #that explained where samson was #me : hiatus but make it fashion(ably angsty)#also me : the gods SUCK #i love aaron i have many a hc for him 🥺#he wants to ?? follow in samson's footsteps nd be a healer ??#samson has been teaching him lil bits of vitakinesis whenever he sees him #it's fckn cute okay my boy is the best w kids #so this broke mine and samson's heart 💔#but he lives !! it's okay !!#also click on 'prince eric' for a hq manip #we love a disney prince

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marlacrane · 4 years

Text

『COURTNEY EATON ❙ CIS FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like MARLA CRANE is here for HER JUNIOR year as a JOURNALISM student. she is 22 years old & known to be inventive, dogged, heedless & blunt. They’re living in GORHAM, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ mia. 23. pt. she/her.

[without me by eminem plays muffled from the next room as marla wanders thru the door w a mickey of vodka in her left hand and the communist manifesto in her right]

tws for drug use, mental illness

history

she has a happy childhood in a seattle suburb. she’s the youngest of two girls, and even though her mom works all the time, and her dad’s overseas, everything’s fine. until marla gets to second grade, which she hates, gets into a fight with a boy, and nearly bites his finger off. this time she gets off with a warning. then, later that week, said boy and her are working on this paper maché duck together, and the teacher's keeping an eye on them at first but has now dismissed them as totally getting along, and then the teacher glances at them again to find that they have vanished, and so have the art supplies. the two of them are found six hours later hiding in a park. they’ve been hanging out there all day, asking for a quarter from each unsuspecting parent or guardian they’ve seen. they’ve used this to buy as much food from the community centre vending machine as they can carry. their goal: wait until their parents are sleeping, steal the tent from marla’s backyard, and go live in the treehouse in his backyard. upon discovery, they’re both grounded for a month. marla is no longer allowed to read calvin and hobbes –– her mom is pretty sure it’s what inspired the escape attempt.

she and this boy, whose name is jasper, regroup once they’ve been ungrounded. jasper and her are both the sort of kids who bite their nails at the sign of a group project. their fight had been over who got to read the classroom’s only calvin and hobbes anthology. their initial truce had been based entirely around a mutual desire for treehouse living. now, they just want insurance. so they agree to partner up, always.

they’re bad influences on each other. apart, they’re both a little feral, sure, but they understand that certain things are not possible, and they avoid danger if they can help it. when they hang out, though, they egg each other on. jasper breaks his arm because marla dares him to climb the school; marla’s suspended after jasper dares her to pull the fire alarm; jasper and marla accidentally burn down a garden shed; jasper and marla scam five people out of their lunch money so they can go see a movie after school. (they pay them back a week later. they’re not total monsters. also, they were getting scared one of the kids was gonna tell on them).

jasper’s parents are moving. jasper’s moving with them, out to the country. marla hates it, but she steels herself. she can be independent. she’s nearly sixteen now, and it’s about time she started. but she’s going to miss him. he tells her that nothing’s going to change, which she tells him is bullshit. he takes this the wrong way, and they stop speaking to each other. this goes on for five months. marla’s lonely at first –– she doesn’t know how to talk to people who aren’t him. she starts dating this guy, and that opens things up a little bit. he introduces her to his friends, and suddenly she doesn’t feel as wild. she’s no longer a product of the outskirts.

one night she thinks fuck it, that’s enough silence. she sneaks out at one am, texting jasper to meet her halfway. she borrows her sister’s car. marla figures she practically knows how to drive. she’s done it a few times. and, to her credit, she makes it to where she and jasper are meeting. she also wraps the car around a pole. she emerges relatively unharmed, and she panics. jasper doesn’t show up. he texts to tell her he got caught trying to leave. she calls him an idiot. then she waits there, arms crossed, incapable of doing anything but dreading consequences, until it’s nearly morning. that’s when a cop drives by and the process of being in trouble begins. it’s a clusterfuck. this is when her sister stops speaking to her –– marla’s been on thin ice with her for a long time, but now it’s over. it isn’t so much that her sister wants to hold a grudge. it’s just finally too much. and marla gets it. for once, she doesn’t try and change things, or slip out of trouble. that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get into a number of shouting matches with her mom. her phone is taken away, as is all of her money, which goes toward buying her sister a new car. her laptop is sold in the name of the new car too. she can use the family computer if schoolwork absolutely demands internet access.

she hasn’t heard from jasper in a long time. her now ex boyfriend is still sort of a friend, but not the kind she can hang out with. there was one girl she really got along with at their school, but they made out at a party and the next day the girl wouldn’t really look her in the eyes. she turns seventeen, the birthday celebrated more or less alone, and does a little stint in juvie for keying a teacher’s car. she then spends a year at a community college, followed by radcliffe. she picks radcliffe because she’s accepted, and because it’s far from home. being at home fills her with this sick feeling now –– something went bad somewhere along the way, and she’s pretty sure it was her that made the wrong turn at the crossroads. not her mom, not jasper, not anyone else that had power over her life. and she won’t reach out to her friend, or to her sister, because that would mean admitting she cares more than they do.

she sort of wishes she could go back to being a careful person. she wants to understand boundaries. she also wants her life to have a purpose, and she likes writing, and she’s always loved nancy drew, but being a detective would’ve meant being a cop and she'd genuinely rather die, so she’s gone for journalism. she’s not loving the university experience, but it’s better than before, and it’s provided a lot of distractions that she’s grateful for.

headcanons / personality :

she can be a little abrasive.

she smokes weed whenever she can afford it, because if she doesn’t she tends toward feeling depressed and highly uninspired. she carries this apathy with her, and then every once in a while she’ll snap, and either get a lot better or a lot worse. klonopin is her best friend now.

she’s 100% a leftist and the way to her heart at this point is through communism memes. she’s slowly but surely making her way through the works of karl marx. she’d probably be done by now, but she keeps reading romance novels instead. (this is also a secret. she reads them on her phone and deletes them the moment she’s done so that nobody can know).

she lives to pirate movies, but claims that the only movie she’s ever seen is showgirls. this is because she dated a film major during her first year of college and found him so insufferable that she’s decided nobody can ever know she watches movies. she gets that he was just a jackass, and she shouldn’t judge anyone by their major, and yet................ that said, she has a secret letterboxd account (when she made it, she found her ex’s account and blocked him, just in case) and on it there’s a list of films in which richard nixon gets punched in the face.

deep down she’s actually very sentimental and sensitive, which is why she worked so hard to Not Be That growing up. she does her very best to never show that side of herself –– if someone sees her crying she’s just gotta kill them ! those are the rules. and after a while it got more and more difficult to actually access that side of herself. when she cries, it’s an Event.

she’s always broke. she’s also somehow always capable of scraping together exactly enough money to go out.

she knows that if jasper contacted her now, even after the years of radio silence, she’d do anything for him. they’re still friends, even if that friendship only exists in her memories. she realizes she could text him, but that would violate her strict double texting rules. and she’s afraid to.

she definitely makes bad decisions while drunk. like, all the time. speaking of which, she’s up for anything ! wanna attempt to summon a demon at 3 am? she’s ur girl ! wanna break into someone’s house and move all of the furniture over by about an inch before stealing away into the night? she’s already there !

she’s actually a good listener, which is one of the only positive traits she credits herself with. that, and creativity.

she’s a taurus but like . there is almost definitely some pisces / scorpio / sagittarius on her chart

she can play piano. she’s actually pretty good at it. or she was, back when she had access to pianos.

she really really really really really really wants a dog but there is no way in hell she can afford one

she’s bisexual

wanted connections :

(i mean. i will love anything, but....)

exes – whether they dated for a while or just hooked up once or twice tbh

enemies – these are easy because marla often does not consider consequences, so she could easily have done smth :/ to ur muse

friends – pls ! she needs them

unrequited crush – on her part, probably ? maybe they’re friends and she doesn’t wanna fuck that up but she’s starting to care about them in a different way. I Love Repression. what a good trope.

if anyone’s down for spontaneous tattoos............ she loves those (@chase hi, hello, come here)

a good influence would be fantastic

anyone else from seattle / the seattle area who maybe knew her in passing

um i really want this

#radintro #drug use /#mental illness /#alcohol /#i didnt proofread this i just . replaced 'isla' w 'marla' and thats it. same intro

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missmentelle · 5 years

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Is a controlling romantic partner inherently abusive? What's the line between regular bossiness and a problem?

To answer this question, we really need to start by defining what we mean by “controlling”.

It is okay for someone to have preferences, requirements, boundaries and deal-breakers when it comes to their partner’s behaviour, and it is okay for them to express those to their partner. Frankly, I would be a concerned about someone who had no standards for their partner’s behaviour. When we’re trying to separate “controlling/abusive requirement” from “non-controlling/non-abusive requirement”, there are two big things we have to think about:

1. Is this a reasonable requirement? There are plenty of restrictions and boundaries that make sense in a relationship. If you are in a monogamous relationship, you probably don’t want your partner having sex with other people. If you are a recovering alcoholic, your partner probably doesn’t want you getting drunk. If your partner is bipolar, you might make sure they take their medication every day. Those are reasonable requirements to have. The line between “reasonable” and “unreasonable” is not hard and fast - this is not black-and-white, but more of a gradient with many shades of grey. Some things, though, are absolutely not reasonable - if your partner is forbidding you from holding a job, requires that you give them your social media passwords and enforces a strict 7pm curfew, that’s well into “unreasonable” territory.

2. What are the consequences if you go against your partner’s wishes? How your partner responds to one of their requirements not being fulfilled is just as important as the requirement itself - in some cases, more so. Maybe your partner has an unreasonable requirement, like not wanting you to get a certain haircut, but their response when you get that haircut is just to say, “Well, it’s not my favourite, but I’m glad you like it”. Responses to a broken requirement range from minor (shrugging it off, expressing displeasure once, etc) to serious (ending the relationship). It’s also important to consider who is being the most impacted by your partner’s reaction - is your partner making an effort and taking an action to improve their own comfort? Or are they trying to force you to do something to make them more comfortable?

When we’re trying to decide whether a partner is being controlling, we have to take both these factors into account. Controlling behaviour occurs when a partner tries to enforce completely unreasonable requirements, or when the seriousness of your partner’s reaction is way out of proportion to the reasonableness of their request. For instance, a partner who breaks up with you because you had sex with someone else is not being controlling - that’s a very serious reaction, but it’s proportionate and appropriate, given the situation. My partner is very rigid about me not leaving used coffee cups on my desk, but when he sees that I’ve left one there, he groans and just takes it to the kitchen himself - he’s not being controlling, because although the requirement is only moderately reasonable, the response is proportionate and appropriate, and has minimal impact on me. A partner who completely flips out if you wear a form-fitting outfit to the bar, however, is being controlling - their reaction is completely out of proportion, and they are taking their discomfort out on you. That’s not acceptable. Again, this isn’t always a black-and-white situation, but it’s important to reflect on your partner’s actions and decide whether you think their reactions are proportionate and reasonable, given the circumstances.

It’s also important to remember that a partner who abuses you in any way for going against those preferences - no matter how reasonable those preferences are - is out of line, and that is automatically controlling and abusive. If you cheat on your partner and they respond by punching you, that is abuse. If you borrow something of your partner’s without asking and they respond by calling you a dumb bitch, that’s abusive - their request may have been reasonable, but the response was abusive, and abuse is never acceptable. There are no mistakes you can make that give your partner the right to behave in an abusive manner, and that’s extremely important to remember when you are evaluating the health of your relationship.

It’s also important to decide what your personal level of comfort is when it comes to having a “bossy” partner. Some people absolutely do not mind having a partner who decides exactly how household chores should be done or who picks the weekend plans 90% of the time. If that dynamic works for you and you feel totally comfortable with it, then that’s okay. Your boundaries matter here too. On the other hand, you are also well within your rights to decide that you are not okay with a bossy partner and that you don’t want to date someone with a lot of expectations and requirements at all. Maybe you want someone who doesn’t give a shit if you leave dirty coffee cups on the counter or stay out all night. Again, that is perfectly within your rights, and it’s okay to decide that that’s what you want in a relationship. There are no right or wrong answers here - if you feel comfortable and you don’t feel constricted, it’s alright if your relationship doesn’t look like other relationships. And at the same time, if your relationship does look like an average relationship and you do feel constrained, it’s alright for you to leave. This is not a one-size-fits-all kind of deal.

Finally, it’s important that every partner respect your boundaries, privacy, intelligence and autonomy, even if they are a little on the bossy side. Deciding that you’re okay with your partner choosing what’s for dinner every night is a very, very different ball game than deciding that you’re okay with your partner periodically reading through your phone and deciding who you are and are not allowed to talk to. Saying “I’m okay with my partner being strict about housework because I like living in a clean house and left to my own devices I live like a swamp monster” or “I let my partner choose my shirts because I truly, truly do not care what I wear” are fine. “I let my partner choose my friends and career because I think I’m stupid” or “I let my partner give me a strict curfew because my parents were authoritarian monsters and I have no idea how else to relate to a human being” are not fine. You deserve basic privacy and dignity, even if you don’t think you do, and it’s important that that’s respected in your relationship. Hope this answers your question!

#Anonymous

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cryptoriawebb · 4 years

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WonderWolf + 2, 68

Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

I have been having sooo many Wonderwolf feels lately. I miss them 3 They are perfect.

2. Royalty AU and 68. Heroic sacrifice.

Honestly I think these two can be combined XD I'm going to borrow elements from the Wonder Woman movie. Diana is a princess in an isolated kingdom: everyone adores and respects her and while she’s happy she feels the pull from the wider world. She isn’t sure why as she’s never been beyond the kingdom’s boundaries but something tells her there is more awaiting her life. Cue a disheveled and battle-damaged stranger who stumbles into their land. He’s disoriented and angry and has to be subdued by several soldiers before he finally passes out. The stranger is captured and kept in a holding cell (which is actually quite clean in Themyscira) until he awakens.

While the kingdom is run by women there are men among the common people so Diana has seen them before. She’s just never seen one like this. To everyone’s surprise, the stranger’s wounds heal overnight. When questioned about this as he awakens he’s immediately on his guard and surprises everyone again - revealing what look like bone claws coming from his hands.

The man’s name is Logan and through a series of aggressive growling and accusations reveals that this “precious little kingdom” is sitting on the outskirts of a wider war. Logan was a soldier-turned-rebel and scout when his home turned on people like him. He belonged to a group for quite a while, protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves and bringing supplies when he had a chance. However recently this underground society was discovered and sent running. Some made it out, some did not. It made it all the worse when he discovered his own brother may have had a hand in this. Racked with anger and guilt, Logan left the small group he was able to save, entrusting them to a friend (and his partner) who possessed psychic abilities. He argued with said partner before he left, insisting there was a place *somewhere* people with “powers” (that probably have a different name in this story) might be safe.

*Logan is older than he lets on and this is why he knows this. His memories are war-torn but his instincts hold firm.

Logan’s prickly aggression turns off many of Diana’s friends and her mother’s council. However, Diana can see the pain in his eyes and tries to lobby for him. While she nearly sways her mother, she can see Hippolyta’s hesitation. Taking matters into her own hands, Diana decides she will talk to Logan herself.

*I’m sure her mother is aware of the broader world, although people with powers were thought to have died out a long time ago. Perhaps they did for a while...

Long story short the two of them manage to reach something of a civil ground. Diana starts to see that honest side she suspected - still gruff of course but as they get to know each other the weight Logan’s situation has on him becomes clear. They don’t trust each other completely but it’s a start. It’s also the start of a spark between them, although they won’t acknowledge it.

Much like the movie, Diana and Logan eventually sneak out of the kingdom together. They are given chase by her mother’s soldiers and there is a scuffle -- Diana even holds Logan back from attacking them.

The journey is long and they’re left with a lot of time to talk. Logan is reluctant to talk but Diana learns how to communicate with him. He’s the sort that lets out his feelings/information through bursts of frustration and what sounds like self-loathing. Diana definitely starts to sympathize with him more--until he tries to belittle her kingdom and her people. She doesn’t agree with all of their decisions but knows there’s a reason for them. It’s very possible she and Logan get into a brief fight because of it. He probably starts it. You know it ends with her pinning him to either the ground or a tree or something. The sparks return and they’re harder to ignore. Logan is impressed by her and Diana’s heart bleeds a little more.

At some point Logan lets on that he’s older than he appears although he won’t elaborate.

I’m not entirely sure what happens in detail after this. They definitely learn to trust each other a lot more than especially Logan intended. They also learn to work as a team.

Logan’s home looks abandoned when they finally arrive although there are signs of recent life. Logan reaches out with his thoughts and connects with his contact (Charles.) He brings Diana to him and - after being confronted and questioned by Charles’ partner (Erik) - are filled in about what’s happened since Logan left. Diana agrees to help, although she is still personally opposed to war. During preparations, Diana and Logan finally act on that spark

I want to say at some point this hiding place is discovered, leading to a messy fight that ends in injury and in some cases capture. Logan’s brother is a part of it. Maybe Charles is one of the captured mutants which immediately turns Erik against Logan and Diana. The group divides - some survivors side with Erik and a scant few side with Logan and Diana. Erik leaves with plans to rescue Charles himself. It’s possible this also leads to a grief and fear- fueled argument between Logan and Diana. It may even lead to a “break up.” This is instigated by Logan.

If the two do go their separate ways then it’s possible a handful of people side with Diana over Logan. Those who do she promises to bring to Themyscira where, as princess, she’ll assure their safety. It’s actually possible Logan leaves all those people with Diana as he just can’t deal with what’s happened and blames himself for unintentionally leaving a trail his brother could follow. He of course projects this onto her even though they’re both aware of what he’s doing.

Diana will make plans to bring the people with her back...but in the moment her heart is broken. They regroup and figure out what their first next step should be.

I’m not sure how they reunite but they definitely do - maybe Logan ends up trying and failing to break into the prison side of the castle, ending in his capture. Maybe Diana tries to and she ends up in a similar position (which is difficult given how strong and trained she is but not impossible.) Or maybe she sends these people off and decides to rescue the captured herself. It’s possible after calming down that Logan has a similar idea and they cross paths again by chance. It would actually be pretty cool if Logan uses some of the training he’s had with Diana to avoid being captured. Ooh if Diana crosses paths with him during a fight she might step in and that would be a great way to bring them back together. They’re already riding an adrenaline high which would dampen the risk of argument. The two of them then team up to save Logan’s friends.

There is a huge and messy battle that mimics Logan’s escape from Stryker’s Island in Origins. I’m not totally sure how it ends other than at some point there’s a fight between Logan and Victor. Diana definitely steps in with a surprise-attack and it’s kind of a symbol of their united front (as opposed to Logan’s previous outlook that his brother is his responsibility.)

I think Logan is the one who sacrifices himself here although I’m not sure how. I don’t think it’s intentional. Probably something about staying behind while she leads the forefront although it might unfold with them starting out in the reverse position. Logan trusts Charles and another close friend of his (Ororo?) and doubles back to help Diana. I’m not sure where Erik is in all this. Maybe he was captured or comes in with backup at the end allowing Logan and Diana to stay behind; they trust Charles and Erik to help the others.

I don’t know exactly where the sacrifice comes in but I think it would be really sweet and heartbreaking if he cupped her cheek in a brief last moment of intimacy and said something similar to what Steve did in the movie. Ohey’re going to need Diana’s protection on the way to Thymiscera: there’s no way Hippolyta will welcome this group in without her. Logan will stay behind and try to clear out the rest of the soldiers. He promises he’ll be okay even though his eyes say otherwise. They kiss - because they must kiss - then they hug and as they do Logan whispers his real name to Diana, kind of passing the secret on to her.

Maybe in an epilogue the group is seen finally reaching Diana’s home. They’re welcomed with skepticism and hesitation but when Diana steps forward with the image of a full “Wonder Woman” (albeit altered slightly to fit the style of this AU) there’s little question as to whether or not this group is trustworthy. Integration is a very slow process but they’re given a plot of land to start building a new life.

Diana and her mother reunite although I’m not totally sure how that conversation goes down. Diana is grieving Logan of course but she wants to honor his memory. Maybe her mother comforts her saying that a woman can be strong and still mourn.

I kind of want to say that as time goes on and the super-powered survivors begin to thrive again Diana, Charles and Erik - and maybe Ororo too - start talking about looking for and rescuing more people like them. Maybe one day as she’s making these plans there’s a commotion within her earshot. Everyone stiffens and Diana excuses herself to investigate (Erik tries to as well but there is a strict ‘no Erik acting on aggression’ policy XD)

Lo and behold, it’s Logan. He looks a little older now, greying at the temples and with a few scars on his face and shoulders, despite only a year at most passing. As soon as he sees her he withdraws his claws. They share a moment of silence, taking each other in. Diana has come into her own and for Logan it’s breathtaking. She calls his name, his real name and the two embrace and share a kiss

#xmen #dceu #wonder woman #wolverine #diana prince #logan howlett #james howlett #logan x diana #diana x logan #inscryptions #sort of #dc #memes

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years

Text

Ruin the Friendship (M)

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Warnings: (oral, dirty talk, body worship)

Word Count: 8,062

Summary: your drunk ass best friend keeps calling you to take care of him and it wouldn’t be so awful, if it weren’t for The Feelings. (best friends to lovers!AU)

“Y/N!” a voice yells the second you enter the bar.

Music thumps through the room, hazy with the scents of sweat and alcohol – you wind your way towards the back, having difficulty seeing where you are going. People continue to bump into you, drinks nearly spilling at least two or three times on the way.

"Ah!” you yelp when someone steps on your toes. Scowling angrily, you glare at a stiletto-ed freshman. “Watch where you’re going,” you snap. In response, they giggle and drunkenly lope towards the bar.

Pushing hair away from your neck, you exhale, since you have only been here five minutes and already find yourself sweating. Continuing onward, you rise up on tiptoe because these people are not the reason you are here, the reason you are here is –

“Y/N!” Jungkook crows, nearly knocking you over in his haste to get closer. He buries his face in your shoulder, wrapping both arms around you while lifting you off of your feet. Jungkook’s breath is hot, smelling of tequila and mint; you groan at his antics, struggling to right yourself when he sets you back down.

“Jeon,” you bemoan, turning to face him.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “You came,” he announces, a giant grin plastered over his face.

Truly, the happiest people in this world are babies and drunk assholes.

“Yes, Jeon,” you sigh, tapping the screen of your phone. “Shall I read our exchange? You texted, ‘Hey, Y/N,’” you quote, scrolling through his messages, “’what shot should I do?’ Me: ‘uh, idk.’ You: ‘pick oneee’ Me: ‘ha u drunk already, kook?’ You: ‘I picked tequila’” Grinning, you look up at him. “Except you didn’t spell it tequila, you wrote ‘tewoya.’”

“Te-wo-ya.” Jungkook tests this version out. “Sounds… bitchin’.”

“Bitchin’?”

“Yeah. Cowabunga.”

“Lord,” you groan, as Jungkook cracks himself up. “O-kay,” you say, sliding one arm around his waist. “I think that’s enough of Drunkkook for tonight.”

“Drunkkook,” Jungkook repeats, happily draping himself over your shoulders. “Thanksforcomingtopickmeup, Y/N.”

“No problem.”

Grumbling, you make your way towards the door. Jungkook’s feet drag behind you, taking long, exaggerated steps to match your stride.

“Y/N,” he whispers, breath tickling your ear, “your legs are so…”

“Hot?” you supply, juggling his weight to push open the door. “Shapely? Toned?”

“Short.”

“Yep,” you say, shoving into the night. “There it is.”

“Hey, JEON!” someone yells and Jungkook glances up, nearly smacking your head to peer into the bar.

“Ow! Kook!” you complain, while he searches the crowd.

“What?” Jungkook yells, craning his neck towards the noise.

He finds the source near the pool tables; two dark-haired guys waving energetically goodbye. “SEEYA!” Hoseok yells, while Seokjin snickers into his cup. “HAVE A GOOD NIGHT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND!”

Jungkook’s mouth drops but before he can respond, you spring into action to yank him fast out the door. “Let’s go,” you demand, nearly tripping over a heat lamp in the process. “My apartment is only a block away, Jeon. Let’s go there.”

"Alright,” he pouts, mumbling something incoherent while he allows himself to be pulled. Placing his hand in yours seems like the most logical option – Jungkook does not seem to mind, trotting obediently behind you down the length of the Ave. The street is busy. Not as crowded as inside the bar but still, it necessitates a fair amount of winding on your part. It takes all your concentration just to make it to your front door, which means there is no time to contemplate the drunk nonsense his friends were spouting.

Jungkook, your boyfriend – unlikely.

Jungkook has been a steady fixture in your life for years. It is hard to remember when, exactly, your friendship began. High school was the first time you saw him – in all of Jungkook’s defensive, hockey star glory – but the first time you spoke was freshman year of University. Jungkook plopped into the seat beside you in Econ and you did a double take, not having realized he attended this school.

Perhaps you should have. In hindsight, it would have made more sense for you to have known, given all the scholarship attention Jungkook received senior year. It was not a priority for you though, you two had barely ever spoken and for him to accept a scholarship anywhere was not a blip on your radar.

Enter Econ 101. You noticed Jungkook in the same way you notice a lot of things – seeing them without really caring. Trees you pass on the street, buildings beside the one that you enter. Jeon Jungkook was like that to you, just another piece of scenery – until he reached out and tapped you on the shoulder.

“Yes?” you blinked, looking up. “Can I help you?”

He must have come straight from practice, since he was still dressed head to toe in athletic apparel – you rolled your eyes, since Jungkook clearly wanted you to know he was an athlete. The situation was made worse by the fact that you did know who he was, but not from college – from high school. Even worse than that, Jungkook did not seem to remember you at all.

He slouched low in his chair, arching a brow. “Yeah. Can I borrow a pencil?”

It was the worst pick-up line you had ever experienced. The sleaze factor was at an all-time high; Jungkook sat there with one eyebrow cocked, his right arm draped over the back of his chair. His legs were man-spread, as though waiting for someone to sit. Jungkook looked slightly bored, as though he were expecting a reaction.

He got one, all right – just not the one he was hoping for. “Are you serious?” you snorted, looking down at your notes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Uncertainty flickered across his expression. “I – no? I really need a pencil.”

“Sure,” you said, nodding at his gym bag. “Whatever sports gear you have in there tends to become obsolete in the classroom. Maybe next time you should bring a bookbag if you want to take notes.”

That said, you resumed writing and Jeon Jungkook stared, confused by your response. He did not stay silent for long, leaning over to tap you again on the arm.

“Yes?” you responded, looking sideways.

Jungkook scowled. “There’s no need to be rude, you know.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes. “You and I both know what you’re doing.”

“Oh?” Jungkook crossed both arms over his chest – it caused his muscles to bulge at the action, which was thoroughly distracting. “And what, exactly, am I doing?”

“You’re being an ass.”

“Oh?” Jungkook nearly choked on his laughter. “By asking you for a pencil? Sure.” He nodded, waving a hand. “Alert the media. Jeon Jungkook is on the loose! Ravaging nearby neighbors for pencils, oh no!”

“Save it,” you huffed, turning forward. “It wasn’t what you said, it was how you said it.”

Most of his surprise had disappeared by this point – most of his confusion, too – leaving Jungkook simply curious. “How did I say it?” he asked, as if he genuinely cared.

Chewing on your lower lip, you debated how honest to be before deciding full-frontal.

“Like you wanted me to sit on your dick,” you said, swiveling to face him. “Your legs were spread wide enough when you asked.”

Jungkook’s brows shot up. “Shit,” he exhaled, chuckling to himself. “Wow…”

When he faced forward and said nothing more, uncertainty began to enter your thoughts. “Was I wrong?” you asked, peering at him. Strangely, you found yourself interested in his response.

A smile played at his lips and he offered a shrug. “No, you were right.”

When Jungkook admitted it, you grinned. “See? I was right not to give you my pencil.”

“Maybe.” Jungkook shrugged, tapping the edge of your desk. “But what about your name?”

Though you would never admit it (Jungkook seemed cocky enough as it was), your heart raced when he asked you. He was cute, charming but despite this (or perhaps because of this), you drew a hard line in the sand when it came to him. He was was clearly a fuckboy – that much became obvious during the first campus party you attended.

A few weeks into the school year, Jungkook, for whatever reason (pity, interest or other) decided to invite you to a party. The thought excited you, but from the minute you arrived to the moment you left, the two of you barely spoke. It was hours before you even saw him and even then, it was just a quick, “Hey, you came!” before Jungkook was pulled in the opposite direction to play beer pong.

You were alone the rest of the night, which is how you met Taehyung. Taehyung was older than you, uninterested in freshman games (drinking, or otherwise), and the two of you talked for hours until he walked you home and gave you a soft kiss goodnight at your dorm.

Taehyung was your boyfriend for most of freshman and sophomore year, until a mutual breakup occurred which maybe you should have seen coming. Taehyung was more of a free spirit, he did not like to be tied down and you liked knowing where things were headed. You liked making choices around your significant other and knowing they were taking you into consideration as well. It was not a bad breakup, not in the nastiest sense of the word – no one cheated, or anything, but the removal of Taehyung from your life was crushing. It left you half-empty for the better part of the summer.

Strangely enough, Jungkook became the one that you turned to. He was always there as a friend before that, but a friend with strict boundaries. Taehyung did not like him, for reasons he never revealed and Jungkook liked to joke that the only reason you two were together was because to him – you went to that party for Jungkook after all, which led to the two of you coupling. He stopped making those jokes once the two of you broke up.

Jungkook was the first person you called the night that it happened.

Taehyung left your apartment around dinnertime. He took with him his keys, his memories and once you heard the door slam, you collapsed onto the couch. The tears which followed were brutal, overflowing until you shakily lifted a hand to dial Jungkook's number.

“Y/N?”

He answered on the second ring, other voices loud in the background and dimly, you recalled it was Friday night – Jungkook was probably out and you were interrupting his fun. “Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, voice thick with your tears. “You’re out – don’t let me bother you. G’ni –”

“Y/N,” Jungkook interrupted, his voie sounding strained. “What’s going on? You sound weird.”

“I – well, Taehyung and I broke up.”

The line was silent for so long, you thought maybe he had not heard and your stomach sunk at the thought of having to repeat the sentence. Then, Jungkook swore, muttering something you did not quite catch under his breath.

“I’m coming over,” he announced, hanging up the phone.

Despite wanting to protest – he was clearly at a party; this was in no way his problem – the reason you called became clear the moment Jungkook walked through your door. You remember looking up from the couch, tears still staining your cheeks but some of the pain simply faded from him being there. It was strange. You did not know when Jungkook stopped being that guy from your high school, the dick from your econ class and instead became someone tangible. Someone necessary, a life firmly interwoven with yours.

He arrived later than you thought he would, but the reason soon became apparent when Jungkook held up Five Guys and tequila. “Had to make a pit stop,” he explained, shrugging out of his jacket.

You remember thinking he looked out of place, standing in your hall awkwardly clutching both tequila and burgers – you moved to help him, to tell Jungkook you were fine but instead of doing either, you burst into tears.

“Shit,” Jungkook muttered, dropping the packages and collapsing onto your couch. “Hey,” he exhaled, pulling you towards him. “It’s okay, Y/N. Just cry it out. I’m here.”

He stayed over that night and when you eventually stopped crying, the tequila was opened – you do not remember much after that, until the next morning.

You woke up precariously; that is the best way to describe it. One eye cracked open, then the other – both widening, when you saw your face inches away from the floor. Jungkook grumbled, turning into the cushions and he pulled the blanket with. You yelped when he moved, tumbling onto the ground.

It did not hurt, so much as it knocked the wind from your lungs – but you lay there like that, staring at his right hand dangling over the edge of the sofa. It was a struggle to piece together the events of the night, bits and pieces floating around in the alcohol. You remembered Jungkook laughing, pouring you shot after shot. One, for how Alienating Taehyung could be; another, for how Bizarre his choices in movies were; a third, for his Cantankerous responses to text messages in the morning.

Each letter of the alphabet got a reason, each letter received a sip of tequila and by the time you reached Q, you were both dissolved into giggles. “This is from Gilmore Girls,” you gasped, remembering where you had seen this before. “Lorelai and Christopher play this game after his dad dies, and – oh my god!” you shrieked, grabbing Jungkook’s cheeks and smushing them with your palms. “Are you a Gilmore Girls fan?”

“No!” Jungkook protested. He huffed when you booped his nose. “My mom just watched that show a lot when I was little... she... ah... FINE! IT’S A FUCKING AMAZING SHOW, AND SHE SHOULD’VE LEFT LOGAN FOR JESS!”

Things started to fade after that, but you vividly remembered the moment before you went to sleep. Jungkook was slumped in your cushions and you climbed up beside him, wrapping both arms eagerly around the breadth of his chest. He did not protest, body curling around yours to reach a hand for the blanket. Lying together was not a question, it was a statement: Jungkook would be there for you, without you having to ask.

Waking on your rug the following morning, you stared at the ceiling and realized this was not a good thing. Jungkook was not just a friend, he was your best friend and not only that, you were fresh from a breakup. You were still hurt, trying to heal and the last thing you needed was an added complication.

Jungkook was complicated. By some miracle, the sound of you falling had not woken him and, making sure to keep it that way, you slowly stood from the ground. Easing yourself away, you disappeared into your bedroom and collapsed on your bed. When you woke several hours later, Jungkook was gone. No note, no text – he just disappeared.

The two of you never spoke about that night, never discussed it and to this day, no conversation has occurred regarding the events of your breakup.

“Y/N,” Jungkook mumbles, nose buried in your neck. He is drunk and although this is annoying, you understand why – their hockey team lost earlier tonight, as evidenced by Jungkook, Hoseok and Seokjin getting tequila-wasted at the bar. The game was not life or death and they can still make the playoffs, but it was a game against a rival, which makes it hurt more than the rest.

There is a lot of pressure riding on Jungkook to perform and before you knew him, you might have dismissed this as him being an athlete, just another jock too caught up in the game. Now, though, you know him and know better. You know Jungkook’s dad is a deadbeat, his mom barely speaks English and it made his life difficult most of his childhood. Jungkook attends University on a scholarship because it is all he can afford and if Jungkook is anything less than perfect, his future is screwed.

Every loss is hard, because Jungkook equates loss with failure – it is your job as his friend to make him see the opportunity. You will try and do that tomorrow, when Jungkook is coherent enough to respond but for now you just grunt, lugging him in through your door.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, nudging your hair with his nose.

“Yes?” you say, patiently pulling him forward. The noise of your apartment muffles the outside when you kick shut the door – the sounds of a pregame down the hall disappear, replaced only by the soft whoosh of your humidifier.

It takes a moment to lock the door and when you do, Jungkook wanders off down the hall. He stops in your living room, a slight frown to his face, as though wondering how he got here. His mouth opens, then shuts, looking back at your hallway.

“Can I take my shoes off?” Jungkook asks, while you fight back a smile.

“Yeah,” you nod, crossing to him. “Take off your shoes and your jacket, okay? Do you want something to eat?” you call, heading into the kitchen.

Two thumps come from behind, as Jungkook does what you requested. When you open the fridge, he follows, padding along like a dog. “Yes, please,” Jungkook exhales, dropping onto a stool. “Do you have mac and cheese, Y/N?”

Classic pre-hangover food. “Lucky for you,” you nod, rummaging around, “I made too much last night. I’ll heat up leftovers if you promise,” you warn, pulling out a jug, “to drink a whole glass of water before going to sleep.”

Jungkook nods solemnly. “Promise.”

“Okay,” you grin, removing Tupperware and popping this into the microwave.

It takes a while to heat and while you wait, Jungkook hums an incoherent song – something which sounds vaguely like Monster Mash and Hotel California, mushed together. You largely ignore this, because singing is a large part of Drunkkook. Drunkkook has many phases, one of which is the giddy slap-happiness Jungkook seems to be stuck in right now.

The macaroni revives Jungkook – he eats enthusiastically, refusing to talk until the entire bowl is finished and only then, does he let out a sigh. “Thanks,” Jungkook burps, pushing hair from his face.

“Gross,” you say, wrinkling your nose as you hop down from your stool. “This is why you can’t get a girl, Jeon.”

“Can so,” he complains, watching you walk to the sink.

“Oh, really? Then why aren’t you with one right now,” you ask, looking over your shoulder. “Why’d you call me, instead of one of them?”

Jungkook stares at you for a moment, then shrugs. “You’re easier?”

“Flattering.” You roll your eyes. Turning the water on, you run a dish under the faucet. “Why don’t you head to my bed, okay? You can sleep there tonight.”

Jungkook nods, pushing himself up from the chair – his gaze remains slightly unfocused, wandering down the hall and in the corner of your eyes, you see his t-shirt fly over the sofa. “Jungkook!” you shriek, dropping the dish in the sink to dart down the hall.

Just another stage of Drunkkook – tequila shots equals stripping. There is no power on God’s green earth which can stop him. The moment the limes come out, Jungkook disappears and in his place stands an exotic dancer named Candy. He is already working the belt, leather mostly undone by the time you rush into your room.

“Whoa, whoa!” you blurt, grabbing his hands with your own. “Let’s just go to sleep, okay? Keep all your clothes on.”

“But it’s hot,” Jungkook complains, blowing hair from his eyes. It is unfair that, even sweaty and drunk, Jungkook still looks amazing – he stares back in your bedroom, gaze dark with frustration and it is hard not to imagine the situation as different.

This thought makes you shiver, a hopeless emotion you disentangle yourself from quickly. “Fine,” you agree. “Leave your boxers on, okay?”

Jungkook nods happily, pushing his jeans to the floor. When they are gone, he flops down on your mattress, rolling upwards to face you. “Y/N.” Jungkook lifts his hand in the air; an exact replica of the Creation of Adam. “Aren’t you coming?”

Hesitating, you glance over your shoulder. It would be best to sleep on the couch because Jungkook is big, your bed is small and if you slept pressed against him, you might not survive. That would make two separate occasions of being held in his arms and you do not think you could survive being torn from another.

“I,” you hesitate, shaking your head. “No, Kookie. I’m going to sleep on the couch, okay?”

Jungkook’s lower lip protrudes. “But we’re best friends. Best friends share beds.”

Stifling a laugh, you cross your arms over your chest. “No, they don’t.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook exhales, falling suddenly quiet. “Please?”

He says this so simply, something inside of you caves and unable to think of a response, you walk over. Jungkook watches you carefully, hair mussed from his hands before he rolled onto his back. He watches you gently, eyes no longer as glazed as before. You take a deep breath, unbuttoning the top of your jeans.

“Don’t look,” you mumble – it is too late to hold any sort of conviction but Jungkook nods despite this, following instruction.

He drapes one arm over his face, revealing the flat strip of his stomach while you try not to stare. The sight inspires dubious thoughts in you, like licking various parts of your best friend’s body and you cannot allow such images to continue. Shaking your head, you step free of your jeans and walk to your dresser. You are careful to pick the least sexy pair of pajamas you own – tattered, raggedy bottoms with a plain white camisole and, pulling your blouse overhead, you hear a quiet intake of breath.

Craning your head, you spot Jungkook staring – he does not even try to hide his guilt, gaze locked on your hips. "Jungkook!" you scold, making him jump.

"Sorry!" he blurts, ducking his head.

After another peek to make sure he really is not looking, you unhook your bra and toss this fall to the floor. Tugging the camisole down, you grab your pants to hop, nearly falling as you yank them up to your waist. Facing your bed, you find Jungkook’s eyes firmly shut.

"Can I look now?" he mumbles, voice low.

When you nod, you realize he cannot see. "Yeah," you inform, pulling back your covers to sink down beside him. "You can look."

His eyes open. It is odd, you think, roaming his face. You are not the only one being careful, not the only one being safe – Jungkook seems cautious as well, holding himself to the edge of your bed. His body is tense, back nearly pressed to the wall. When you lower yourself onto the pillow, he stares for a moment.

"Y/N," he whispers.

"Sh," you respond, scooting closer. "Go to sleep, Jungkook."

He nods, lowering his head to the sheets beside yours. He is too big for this, you realize. Your mattress sinks to the center and after several long moments of fighting gravity, you decide to give in. It is like sinking into quicksand; your body slides forward to mold against his.

To his credit, Jungkook does not respond – the only noticeable reaction is an exhale, a tiny sound you know will haunt future dreams. He shifts and it is obvious to you both what he conceals but neither one of you mentions it, neither one of you says it out loud. You are not sure how long this moment lasts, a stand-off of wills but eventually it dissipates and your eyes slowly close. It is during the strange, drifting moment between sleep and awake you feel Jungkook's arm slip over your waist.

“Y/N?” he whispers, near the side of your face.

“Shut up,” you mumble, pressing closer.

He chuckles, breath warm at your ear. “Are you awake?”

“I guess so,” you mutter, “thanks to my dumb drunk best friend.”

“Not so drunk, anymore.”

Finally, you open your eyes.

He stares back at you, the room quiet but for the buzzing of the air conditioner in the corner. A car horn honks, dim in the distance and you hope it covers the sound of your beating heart because Jungkook can probably feel it, lying here next to you.

“Tequila move through you that fast, huh, Jeon?” you say.

“The mac and cheese helped,” he admits, toes brushing your shin. You forgot this fact about him; Jungkook sleeps like a child, curled into himself like a ball. It was something you found endearing that night on the couch – before he kicked you off it, of course. “I can’t fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you say, blinking back at him.

He smiles, the sleepy kind which crinkles his eyes. “Hey.” Jungkook changes the subject. “How are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” you say, expression shuttering. “I’m tired, I guess.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jungkook whispers.

When he says this, you sigh because you know what he means – but you do not want to talk about Taehyung. “I’m fine,” you mumble, as he shifts closer.

“When I broke up with my ex,” Jungkook starts, and you make a noise of surprise.

Jungkook never talks about his ex – a girl from your high school, someone you knew only vaguely. Her face is familiar but if you placed her in a lineup, it would impossible to single her out. Jungkook was wild about the girl; you would see them in the halls between classes, hanging over each other while they sucked face at the lockers. You remember hearing something awful happened between them, something which broke them up senior year, but in the entire three years you have known Jungkook, he has never once mentioned her name.

“When I broke up with my ex,” Jungkook repeats, quieter. “It was because she cheated on me.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. “We did that, a lot. Problem was she fucked my best friend, too and I didn’t like that.”

“Jimin?” you gasp, surprised.

“No.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, his arm still draped over your waist. “My best friend from high school – Sungmin.”

“Oh,” you allow, relaxing into his grip. Jimin is on the hockey team with Jungkook; he is the star right winger and an absolute sweetheart. “I didn’t think he’d do that.”

Jungkook arches a brow at your mistake. “Anyways,” he continues. “She cheated on me, I found out over text and it was awful,” he says, looking down at the sheets. “All that to say I get it – sometimes you love someone and it doesn’t work out. It works out in the end, though,” Jungkook mumbles, voice heavy. “Things will always get better.”

“Will they?” you mutter, though you do not really mean that.

Jungkook’s hand closes around yours and you stare at the motion, unsure if you should push him away. It feels nice though, him touching you like that – fuck nice, it feels heavenly. Jungkook’s fingers brush over yours in a gentle, soothing motion.

“They do,” he nods. “Just think about the sucky things Taehyung did before you broke up. Was he distant? Annoying? Did he hog the bed, or something?”

“No, that was you,” you grin, shoving his shoulder. Jungkook laughs and you quickly sober, considering his words. “Well,” you start, only to hesitate. “No, never mind.”

Face burning, you bury your head in the sheets while Jungkook scoots closer, poking your shoulder. “Come on,” he complains. “Out with it – what’d Taehyung do?”

Fuck. Now that you brought it up, Jungkook will not let it go – tenacious, is a nice word for him. Stubborn as hell, is another way to describe him. Groaning aloud, you flop onto your back. “It’s more what he didn’t do,” you mumble, covering your face with both hands.

A hush fills the room, filled with everything you will not say.

“He.” Jungkook coughs awkwardly, clearing his throat. “What… didn’t he do?”

Taking a deep breath, you feel slightly dizzy – which is ridiculous, considering you did not even drink tonight. Lying beside Jungkook, talking about things you should not – it makes you feel dizzy, nauseous and the words come up despite yourself.

“Hewouldn’teatmeout,” you mutter, all in a rush.

Jungkook nearly chokes, sputtering before rolling himself closer. “That’s ridiculous,” he whines, returning his arm to your waist. “What a fucking pig. Can’t wait to spread that fact on campus – shit, Y/N. Doubt any girl will want to date him after this. Fuck him – and fuck Khaled, too! Go down on your wife!”

“No, no, no,” you groan, lowering your hands to look at him. Jungkook stares back, his face much too close. “It’s not like that.”

Jungkook seems surprised. “No? Then what’s it like?”

“He didn’t… he didn’t expect me to go down on him,” you explain, toying with a thread of your comforter. “Taehyung wasn’t unreasonable. He just didn’t like going down on others, it was this whole thing with him but,” you inhale, taking a big gulp of air. “It would be nice, I guess. To have a boyfriend who didn’t mind… that.”

Jungkook falls silent for a long moment. “Why just a boyfriend?” he declares boldly.

Your words dry in your throat as Jungkook stares back, oddly determined. Suddenly, you are very aware of the weight of his hand on your stomach. His fingers splay over the skin, tracing circles against your hip.

“I,” you hesitate, unsure how to respond – Jungkook cannot possibly be offering what you think he is. “I don’t know,” you frown. “I typically only sleep with my boyfriends. It’s a monogamy thing, something you wouldn’t understand, Jungkook.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “What does it matter?” he murmurs, fingers tracing in a way that sets every nerve ending on fire. “I’m tipsy and I want to go down on you, Y/N. Take advantage of that – take advantage of me.”

Now, your mouth nearly drops because there it is – your best friend, offering to eat you out, completely unaware of how badly you want it. “You – what?” you squeak.

Jungkook freezes. You two have been friends for so long, you recognize the drunk stages of Jeon Jungkook better than anyone – especially tequila kook, which is another thing in its entirety. Symptoms include false bravado, overconfidence followed by whininess, neediness and much cuddling. The symptoms start out one way, work their way upwards and then fade back. From the way Jungkook is staring at you now, you imagine the last of his bravado has just disappeared.

“Shit,” Jungkook whispers, eyes wide.

Then – so slowly, it could be a dream, you grasp his hand in yours to move lower on your body. Jungkook sucks in a breath, realizing what you want and before you can take it back, before you can question your sanity, he moves on his own. His hand slides lower, beneath the waistband of your sweats to brush over your underwear.

Both of you still, looking at one another – and then Jungkook continues, nudging the waistband of your panties aside. Jungkook stays there for a moment, finger slipping beneath the elastic to trace over your skin; he lets you get used to the feeling, relax into the motion and when you push your hips up, he tugs your panties aside. The sound reveals how wet you are, how wet you are for him and Jungkook inhales at the noise. His finger moves lower, making a perfect circle around your already swollen clit – you groan out loud, when he does it again.

“Shit,” he whispers, rolling closer. Jungkook’s hair falls forward to stare intently at the crux of your thighs. Both sweats and sheets are pushed to your knees but you remain covered by panties until Jungkook shoves these aside to spread your folds. He stares at your body, drinking you in and you know this should be uncomfortable but somehow find it is not. Jungkook’s fingers slide to either side of your clit, forcing your back to arch upwards on the bed.

“Fuck,” Jungkook murmurs, gaze drifting to yours. “You’re so responsive, baby. Do you like having your clit rubbed that much?”

Hearing him call you baby feels both foreign and right, as though it is the next logical thing in your pantheon of names. “Yes,” you exhale, wriggling your ass on the bed. “I like when you touch me, Jungkook.”

As though you have flipped a switch, Jungkook’s eyes darken. “Really,” he mutters, sliding a finger slowly into your cunt. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that, Y/N.”

Before you can ask what he means, Jungkook curls said finger upwards to press his thumb to your clit. Moaning his name, you fall back on the bed. “Jungkook,” you exhale, voice breathy beyond recognition.

“Mm?” he murmurs, lifting himself onto his knees. “Just relax,” he instructs, pushing your camisole higher. “I want to make you feel good.”

Nodding, you keep your eyes closed when he shifts – Jungkook’s hands find your waist, pulling your underwear down to toss onto the floor. He positions himself in between your legs, one on either side while he rubs circles on your thighs and Jungkook lowers his lips to trail kisses towards your sex.

“You have such a pretty pussy, Y/N,” he exhales, forcing your eyes to snap open.

“What?” you blurt, pushing yourself up on your elbows.

“I mean it,” Jungkook nods, still fixated on the sight. “Here,” he murmurs, bringing his fingers to your clit – he moves slowly back, keeping your legs spread so that you feel every touch. “And here,” Jungkook adds, finger tracing gently over your opening. “God, I’m hard just thinking about fucking you. But here,” he breathes, dropping a kiss to your most sensitive place. “There should be a whole fucking Netflix documentary about your clit – hell, I’d watch it.”

Never has someone revered you like this, never has anyone taken this much time to look at you, let alone tease and when Jungkook’s lips close over your sex, a whimper falls from your lips. He takes his time with your body, mouth opening slow so his tongue can nudge, lick and twist. He adds his lips to the motion, tugging the swollen bud into his mouth; intermixing this with gentle flicks of his tongue. The sounds you make are not human, entirely unrecognizable as you stretch your arms overhead, grabbing hold of the bed.

Jungkook continues mercilessly, demanding every inch of your pleasure while wrapping both arms over your waist. You groan, staring down at his head between your thighs, unable to tear your eyes away from the mess that he’s making. Every now and then, Jungkook pauses to look up – your arousal is clear, his lips shining and red; though you want nothing more than to taste him, he continues to refuse.

“Not until you come,” Jungkook purrs, reburying himself in between your thighs.

“Ah,” you arch, when Jungkook switches the motion. He drags his tongue up your clit, rubbing over you gently before pushing apart with his tongue – every swirl is sinful, purposeful and fuck, if anyone has ever eaten you out like this. The noises he makes are sloppy, obscene and Jungkook pauses only briefly before flicking over you again.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, fisting both hands in your hair.

Not his hair – although you want to – because Jungkook seems determined and you do not want to interfere with whatever he is doing. Your body has lost whatever sensitivity you had at the start; now you just want him closer, rougher, while he toys with your clit. You know you are close when you start to lose control; legs jerking up to frame his head, curse words multiplying on your lips but Jungkook just chuckles, pushing your knees apart to pin you down to the mattress.

He moves quickly, mouth open and you nearly scream, your body is so tight from the motion. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut. “Jungkook, I think I’m gonna come.”

As though you’ve said the magic words, Jungkook slows. He keeps you pressed to the mattress, holding you immobile but instead of the fast release he was giving, Jungkook slows to a crawl.

“Jungkook,” you bemoan, nearly breaking with frustration. Your entire body quivers, pussy soaked from his teasing and here this fucker is, slowly massaging your clit. It feels good – shit, does it feel good – but that’s hardly the point. “Make me come,” you whine, pushing your hips up to his face. “Please, baby, make me come.”

Jungkook groans, vibration soft on your sex – he nods, nose brushing over your slit. “Fine,” he exhales, resuming his previous motion. “Come for me, baby.”

“Oh,” you gasp, as he resumes rapid circles. “Fuck, your mouth.”

He does not respond, tongue too busy and then Jungkook reaches to insert a finger – game over. It has been so long since anyone has been inside you like that, since anyone has touched you and Jungkook’s finger, curved against your g-spot sends you over the edge. His arms hold your body below him, tongue still moving and it is hard to understand what you say, coming apart in his arms.

There is a moment at the top, when you think you might break – it seems too much, too intense for any one person but Jungkook continues to hold on and you decide to let go. He is there when you return, breathing heavily while opening your eyes. Jungkook looks up at you, framed between your thighs – he removes his finger slowly, dragging up past your sex.

Shiver crossing your spine, you stare back – then shift abruptly, pushing him back on your bed.

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaims, confused – he does not seem to know what to do with his hands, grasping the sheets awkwardly. “What are you – oh.”

He inhales when you shove his boxers down, closing your lips over his cock. Jungkook is already hard, pre-cum leaking from his tip and you know it will not be long before he comes in your mouth. Especially not with the way you are sucking him off, twisting your mouth to his base and back up, using your hands to help and getting them wet.

Jungkook groans, hissing while leaning back on his hands. He stares at your head between his thighs, bobbing up and down on his cock – you release his length with a pop, taking a deep breath to pull your hair back in a ponytail.

“Hold this,” you demand, before re-gripping his thighs.

Jungkook responds on reflex, wrapping your hair in his fist while you resume deep-throating. “Oh, shit,” he groans, trying and failing to catch his breath – but you are moving too fast, tongue dragging up him in time. The veins in his cock stand out, throbbing and you tease him mercilessly in response to what he did to you. Closing your fist around Jungkook, you start to pump up and down while sucking his tip like a lollipop – you look up to make eye contact, dragging your tongue over his slit.

“Shit, shit,” Jungkook exhales, hands finding their way to your hair. His hips rise involuntarily, moving you deeper. “Fuck, your mouth is amazing.”

Rather than answer, you moan, letting him feel the vibration while you suck him again. Jungkook whimpers, grabbing your hair to thrust hard in your mouth. You let him, eyes watering when he starts to take over. His cock hits deeper and when Jungkook is panting, grip tight in your hair, you tap on his waist to let him know he can cum.

As though waiting for your cue, his entire body slackens – jaw tight, eyes screwed shut, Jungkook lets himself go. Cum spurts into your mouth, cock still held deep and you wait until he is finished to pull off with a gasp. Jungkook groans out loud, having difficulty catching his breath – your own high is still there, lessening somewhat as the seconds tick by. Before you can do anything about this, Jungkook moves forward to push you back to the bed.

He buries his face in your hair, arms caged around your waist. “Fuck, that was amazing,” Jungkook exhales, half-buried in pillows.

You agree but you do not know how amazing, and therein lies the problem – your earth was just moved, entirely shattered and here Jungkook is, acting like you just ran a marathon. “Hey,” you exhale, suddenly hesitant. “This… it won’t be weird between us now, will it?”

For a second, Jungkook tenses and then his back muscles stretch, pushing himself up on your bed. “I,” he starts, then stops. “No,” he says, somewhat deflated. “It doesn’t have to be weird, not if we don’t let it.”

“Good,” you respond. Another moment passes before you sink down beside him; Jungkook’s hand slides over your waist, pulling you closer, but not like before.

You swallow, allowing your eyelids to flutter and wonder if feelings are somehow transferable. If the osmosis of touching can impart from your skin to his, leaving Jungkook wanting you the way you want him. Because that is what you want – him. That is all you have wanted for some time now, although you would not admit it yourself.

Jungkook stirs, gently pulling you closer. Your chests rise and fall, hearts beating in tandem.

"Why did you leave?" Jungkook whispers, so soft you think you must have misheard.

"I – what?" you respond, stilling against him.

"The night you and Taehyung broke up," Jungkook says, face half-buried in your hair. "We fell asleep on the couch and you left before I woke up."

"I didn't...” Pausing, you find yourself unsure what to say because this is entirely unexpected. “I didn’t know you realized."

"I did," Jungkook says.

"I didn't," you exhale, pulling back to look at him, "know that you cared."

Jungkook's eyes are unreadable. "I did." His arm is still draped over your body, torso pressed into your own. “I do.”

"Then why –”

"I messed up," Jungkook confesses, all in a rush. "I should have told you from the moment we met that I liked you. I should have asked you out then and there but I was too much of a coward and now, here we are."

Your brow furrows, unsure what he means. "What do you mean, ‘here are we?’"

“We’re friends,” Jungkook says, as though this fact should be obvious. "Friends," he continues, pushing the word past his teeth. "We’re friends, the best of friends and that's amazing – it’s wonderful because honestly, Y/N, you mean the world to me."

Some of the tension between you lessens; Jungkook's hands are warm on your waist, scooting closer on the bed. "Thank you?" you respond, unsure how to decipher his words. Everything Jungkook says feels like a blur, as though it is happening to someone else and you are just looking in. "You mean the world to me, too, Jungkook."

"Not in the way you do to me," Jungkook admits, then pauses. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

You frown, because it was probably sometime in high school, but Jungkook of course would not remember that. “I – uh –"

"It was in elementary school."

This shuts you up, completely floored. "What?" you frown. "We... we didn't go to the same elementary school, Jungkook."

Jungkook exhales, reaching up to massage the back of his neck. "We did," he confesses. "At least, we did for a year or so – I moved around a lot, you know my dad. I doubt you’d remember, but I remember you," he confesses.

When you say nothing, Jungkook takes this as a sign to continue. "So, my mom got me this t-shirt," he mumbles, glancing over your shoulder at the door. "Power Rangers were my favorite back then – all I wanted was to be the red one and for my birthday, my mom got me a t-shirt which read, 'It's Morphin' time!'"

Biting down on your lip, you stifle a grin. "Mhm," you agree, trying not to laugh. "That's sweet, Jungkook but I really don't –"

"My mom doesn’t know English very well. You know that," Jungkook says.

“Yeah,” you nod, softening. " I know."

"So," Jungkook exhales, tracing circles over your hip. “My mom accidentally bought this discount shirt with a typo – instead of 'It's Morphin' time,' it read, 'It's Morphine time.'"

Though you try not to laugh, your lower lip twitches. "Oh."

Jungkook stares back at you, lips pressed firmly together. "It's not funny."

"No. It's not."

"It's not," Jungkook insists, even as his eyes dance with laughter.

"I've never felt more serious in my life," you insist – before breaking away, covering your face with both hands. “Oh my god.”

Jungkook cracks up when you lose it. "Ah," he groans, leaning his forehead to yours. "She meant well, really – it was so sweet, but the day I wore it to school the kids had a field day."

When he says this, you stop laughing because the thought of Jungkook hurting is not funny at all. “This was… when we were in elementary school?” you ask, beginning to put two and two together.

"Yeah," Jungkook exhales, staring. "This is the part where you came in."

"Me?" you repeat, still struggling to understand. Elementary school was a long time ago, but – “Oh my god," you blurt, eyes widening. "That was you."

Jungkook nods slowly, scanning your face. "Yeah. That was me."

"It was you!" you gasp, nearly kneeing him in the dick when you press yourself closer. "Those stupid boys on the playground! They were picking on you and I just got so mad at them, I marched up and –”

"You called them all amoebas," Jungkook deadpans, upper lip twitching.

Clasping both hands over your mouth, you stifle a snort. "Oh my god," you mumble between fingers.

"You walked up to them,” Jungkook details. “Double ponytails swinging and scowling so darkly, I thought you’d come to join in. I thought I'd offended you with my horrible t-shirt – and then you turned around and pointed at the ringleader."

"Derek." You scowl. "What a prick."

"Yeah," Jungkook says, hands grazing the sides of your body. "He was a prick, but you walked right up to him and called them all amoebas. I doubt they understood what the word meant but you said it so scathingly, I think they assumed it was a curse."

"They ran away," you recall, smug. "Little punks."

Jungkook snorts, gaze softening the longer he looks at you. "Yeah," he says softly. "That was the first time I realized I loved you."

He says the words so suddenly, you cannot think of a response. It is like that moment earlier, when he called you baby and you could not understand why he had not been doing it longer. Jungkook’s words sink into your skin, leaving you breathless – and this is when you realize you love him, as well.

"Y/N," Jungkook whispers, gaze searching. "Please respond to that. It’s… kind of something I’d like feedback on."

"I," you inhale, the noise almost a hiccup. "Do you want to know why I left you that night?" you ask, returning to the first question he asked.

Jungkook nods, hands sliding to the small of your back.

“It was because I realized something," you say, letting Jungkook pull you forward. "When Taehyung and I were together you were a constant source of tension, because I kept comparing him to you."

"To me?" Jungkook’s brow crinkles.

You nod, since the memory is shameful to you. The facts are not pretty, are not nice – they paint you as the bad guy because while Taehyung had his faults, in the back of your mind you were falling for someone else. You were falling in love with your best friend.

"Yeah," you whisper, hands sliding around his neck. Jungkook’s hair is so soft, in contrast to the rest of him. "Whenever we’d argue, I’d think about what you’d do instead. Whenever I was happy, you would pop into my head. I didn’t know what to do," you whisper. "It was almost a relief when Taehyung and I broke up."

Jungkook just stares, face mere inches away. "You’re ashamed of it.”

Trust your best friend to understand how you feel. “Yeah,” you mumble, looking down until Jungkook’s fingers slide beneath your chin, lifting you up.

“Hey,” he murmurs, brushing his lips to your forehead. “Life isn’t perfect. People fuck up. That wasn’t the only reason the two of you broke up, was it?”

“No.”

“Then stop beating yourself up.” Jungkook exhales, wrapping himself around you. “Stop hurting yourself because of what’s past.”

He is right, you know that he is and your arms tighten, pressing your face to his chest. “I love you, too, Jungkook – you know that, right?”

“I know.”

“Not just in the best friends kind of way.”

“I know that, too.”

“Good. As long as you know.”

“I do,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose.

Author’s Note: Ruin the Friendship is continued in Part II, Over the Edge!

#noonanet #kwriterskollection #kpoptrashtag #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts-fanfic #bts writing #jungkook writing #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #q: jungkook tag

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ilcuoreardendo-fic · 5 years

Text

The Jagged Crown (Female!Dovahkiin/Ulfric)

The next part of my Pushing Boundaries series, featuring my female Dovahkiin Seirian.

You’ll probably want to read the previous parts first, otherwise this won’t make much sense.

Mid-Day, Sondas, Windhelm

“Did I not just leave you in Winterhold? Are you pursuing me?”

Squinting up through the flurries of snow, Seirian spied Ulfric trotting toward her on a horse the color of cream. She could barely make him out through the storm.

“Mira Hlaalu’s baby is due any day. I promised I’d attend her. And I want to see how the Blades are handling the Gray Quarter security.”

“With deft and aplomb,” Ulfric said, swinging down off his horse and handing the reins to the stable hand. “Stonefist hasn’t made a peep in months.”

“That’s certainly better for his health and longevity.”

Ulfric’s eyes crinkled. “And where will you be staying during your visit?”

“Candlehearth Hall.”

“Ah. No more rooms available, I’m afraid. The inn is full of revelers come for the Moot.”

“It’s three weeks away!” Seirian tucked her cloak more tightly around her and headed toward the city gates. Ulfric followed. She could feel his amusement, both at her consternation and her unwillingness to stand on ceremony and wait for the Jarl to lead.

“You know Nords love a good celebration, my Dragonborn.”

Seirian huffed, breath frosting in the air. “I suppose the Hlaalus could put me up until after the birth.”

Ulfric made a sound suspiciously like a “tsk,” but that might have just been the settling of the old city doors as they guards pulled them open.

“Stay at the palace, Dragonborn. As my guest. I promise,” he continued, seeing her arched brow, “your virtue will be safe.”

A laugh strangled in Seirian’s throat as she coughed behind her hand. “I’m not sure there’s much virtue worth worrying about.”

“Intriguing.” Ulfric’s eyes glittered. Then, “You’ll have a room waiting. I also have something—a job, if you will—to talk with you about at dinner. Until then.” He gave a shallow nod that held all the courtliness of a bow and headed toward the palace.

Seirian stared after him for a moment before shaking her head and turning toward the Gray Quarter.

# # #

“The Jagged Crown,” Galmar said, “is made from the bones and teeth of ancient dragons. It’s said to contain a portion of the power of every High King of who has worn it.”

“And you want me to track down this piece of myth,” Seirian asked as she took a bite of roast chicken.

“It is not myth. And no, I’ve located it.”

“Or so you say,” Ulfric murmured into his goblet. Galmar shot him a filthy look. Seirian pretended to inspect the mash of vegetables on her plate.

“It’s at Korvanjund,” Galmar said.

“I’m well acquainted with crawling through Nordic ruins and if I’m going to risk life and limb for an adornment, I’d like to know why.”

“Galmar’s concerned about the legitimacy of my standing with the other jarls.”

“The Moot’s in three weeks. There are still Jarls who are expressing their doubts, perhaps not publicly, but I have ears in many private rooms. This crown, worn by the High Kings of old, will show you as the true ruler of Skyrim.”

“And may quell the rumblings that could lead to the start of another Civil War,” Seirian murmured.

“Even Balgruff will fall in line when he sees it,” Galmar said.

Seirian sipped her wine, put down the goblet with a heavy clunk. “Okay.”

Galmar raised his brows. “I wouldn’t have expected to have your support in putting Jarl Ulfric on the throne, Archmage.”

Seirian fixed her gaze on him. “I never officially chose a side in this war, as I believe you well knew when you had that archer shoot me down in the middle of Solitude.”

Galmar nodded, face placid.

“I don’t like war. It’s a waste of lives, a waste of resources. Death and destruction only breeds more of the same. I don’t like the Empire. They’re too entangled with the Aldmeri Dominion and they won’t stand ground where they should.”

Ulfric and Galmar shared similar expressions of smugness.

“That doesn’t mean,” Seirian paused, took another sip of wine, “that the Stormcloaks don’t have their own problems. Prejudice. Forgetting that this land isn’t just a home to Nords. It might have been once, but not anymore. Tamriel is far too large and interconnected for that to continue to be the case.”

“So you’ve said, my Dragonborn. And I’ve heard.”

“Yes. You’ve shown you’re willing to listen and to act. The Blades have told me you’ve given them more resources, and financially helped those Dunmer who had property destroyed. If you weren’t that type of person,” she shrugged, “I would not be agreeing to this rock warbler chase.”

Ulfric stared at her for a moment, then finally said, “You’ll have a contingent of soldiers with you.”

“It would be best to leave tomorrow. Early,” Galmar offered.

“That’s all well and good, gentlemen, but I made a promise to deliver a baby and I’m not leaving until I do.”

Galmar frowned. “How long will that take?”

“As long as it takes, Galmar. Babies don’t follow a strict schedule. Though it has dropped and Mira’s having some pains… I believe it will be within the next three days.”

Galmar grumbled something unflattering under his breath, but Ulfric nodded, said “We can round up the contingent and be ready to go as soon as your obligations are fulfilled.”

# # #

Mira gave birth just before dawn on Tirdas.

Seirian thanked Mara that the birth was an easy one, though you wouldn’t know it to look at Belyn who had fainted dead away as the baby began to crown and who was still looking at little woozy as he sat by his wife’s side, cooing at the little one. The baby had been born with a shock of black hair, a shade of red-violet eyes that made Seirian think of the sunsets back in Shornhelm, and a set of lungs that let out a scream that could be heard throughout the Gray Quarter.

After making sure the Hlaalus had what they needed for the evening and denying Belyn’s offers to give her something in trade for her time, she dragged herself back to the palace where she informed Jorlief that her duty was done. Then she fell into her bed and slept until dinner time. She woke long enough to eat, bathe and pack essentials for the trip to Korvanjund.

In the pale hour before dawn, she met the small contingent of soldiers at the stables and saddled up a borrowed horse. As the commander rallied her people, Ulfric appeared next to Seirian on the same cream colored horse she’d seen him on when she’d arrived at the city.

“You need to be on horseback to see us off?”

He shot her a look, clearly unamused at this early hour of morning. “I’m coming with you, Dragonborn.”

“No.”

“Are you attempting to give me an order?” His tone was light but the steel in his eyes said he would not look kindly at such an attempt.

“No. Yes. I don’t—why are you coming? Isn’t your armed contingent enough?”

“No,” he said, “not where your safety is concerned.”

“Are we really going to have a conversation about my safety? Really? Me? Who flew on the back of a dragon to Skuldafn to find the portal to Sovngarde and put an end to Alduin’s reign?”

“Yes,” Ulfric said. “Those were tasks necessary to your destiny as Dragonborn. This one isn’t. It’s something I’m asking of you. And as I have the time and the resources to accompany you, I shall.”

Seirian opened her mouth, closed it. “Fine. But please don’t make me have to explain to Galmar and all your supporters why I’m dragging the body of the once future High King of Skyrim back to Windhelm.” She turned her horse toward the road, following the soldiers as they headed out.

“I think you’ll find me quite capable, Dragonborn,” Ulfric called, voice nearly lost to the wind.

# # #

They arrived at their destination in the late evening, having been halted by heavy snows and low visibility at several points during the journey. Korvanjund was half buried in the snow and they nearly missed the entrance to it in the settling dark.

A couple of bandits were camped out near the doors to the tomb, but they ran as they saw the party approaching. It was the first time bandits actually seemed to have more good sense than greed, Seirian thought.

They crowded into the antechamber just as the snowfall began to pick up, the wind howling like a wild creature through the trees and the stone archways of the ruin.

“It was a long journey,” Seirian said, pitching her voice so she could be heard over the murmur of conversation. “We’ll camp here tonight, go deeper into the tomb tomorrow. I want everyone starting fresh.” Where she had expected resistance, she found none as the soldiers spread out to settle down for the evening.

Wandering over to the doors that led into the tomb, Seirian considered them for a moment, then closed her eyes, visualized the electric arc of lightning, how it looked crossing the sky, how it might look pooling in her hand and cast her fingertips toward the floor. The lightning rune glowed brightly for a moment before dimming, issuing a subtle hum that only those attuned to magic could hear. If anything tried to come through the door in the night, at the least they would be alerted. She thought doing the same to the main entry, then reconsidered at the idea of some poor soldier going to relieve himself in the middle of the night and setting off the rune. She could settle for the sentry the commander had posted.

With a warning to the nearby soldiers to stay clear of the inner door, Seirian headed for the fire the guard captain had gotten burning. She pulled her sodden cloak from her back and spread it out on a piece of broken stone to dry, then settled down in front of the fire, letting the flames warm the chill in her cheeks.

A piece of dried beef appeared in front of her, held aloft by a large hand. She blinked, took the food.

“Septim for your thoughts,” Ulfric said.

“I haven’t seen my children in weeks.” She’d kept the thought at bay, but being around Mira and her new family had brought back the heavy feeling in the pit of her belly, that feeling that she was not doing right by them, the little children that had fallen into her life, borne on the winds of a storm, the tide of blood spilled in war.

“How old are they?”

“Six and the other’s just turned three.”

“Young.”

“Young enough that the grief of losing their parents still makes them cry every time I leave them. Young enough to not understand why I must be gone so often. I’m not sure I understand it myself… Especially now. Alduin is gone. The Empire is out. The war is done. We’re at peace. Or as much as we ever can be.”

“And why must you be away so often?” Ulfric asked, drinking from a water skin before offering it to her.

“My duties to the College, mainly, at this point.”

“I imagine you won’t want to step down from your position as Archmage,” he said and she nodded. “Is delegation not an option?”

“That’s my next step. Tolfdir and some of the others aren’t keen on an Archmage who isn’t often in residence, but I’m working on them. Now that the war is over, post travels far faster and, well...let’s just say, as mages there are other ways of getting messages to each other that we should be working on perfecting.”

A slight smile curled Ulfric’s mouth then faded away as he looked into the fire. “Windhelm is quite a lot closer to Winterhold than Solitude.” He burst out laughing when she stared at him. “Spare me the dragon’s glare, please. I only mean, there’s a house for sale in the city. It’s a good house. Plenty of room for the little ones. You’d have Wuunferth close by for discussions of spells, potions, hexes. And you can make the trek to Winterhold in under three days when the weather is clear.”

She opened her mouth, shut it just as fast as he gave her the same steely look from that morning. “Would you say no, just because I offered the idea? I want you close, it’s true. I’ve made that desire—and more—known. If the conversation we had at your College is any sign, I think we’re getting somewhere with that. But this is not just about me or what we might have between us. Would you not make life easier on yourself and your children just because it means living in my city? I know you’re stubborn, Dragonborn, but there comes a time when stubbornness can become spite and I have not known you to be spiteful.”

That weight that had been sitting in her belly for weeks grew suddenly heavier and broke open in a flood of heat that raced through her veins, made her face burn. She looked away from Ulfric and into the flames again. It had been too long since she had someone willing to call her on the fierce and, she could admit, sometimes destructive independence she had cultivated.

She took a deep breath, let it out and turned back to him. He was still watching her and met her eyes.

“You’re right,” she said. “It’s a much more reasonable location if I’m going to continue making regular trips to the College. I’ll speak with Jorlief when we return.”

“Good.”

“And…” Seirian said, pushing the words out before she could rethink them, “I suppose you’ll have to come to Sondas dinner after we’re moved in and settled.”

She felt Ulfric go very still beside her.

“An invitation to dinner, Dragonborn?”

“Well,” she said, “we’ve already done the demanding one’s presence at dinner. Or you have. And we—you’ve—done the surprise, late night dinner. And we’ve done the “you’re here so you might as well dine with us,” dinner. I think it’s time we did something properly.”

Ulfric’s grin was wolfish. “I accept.”

“Don’t look too satisfied,” Seirian said, turning back to watch the flames. “A few hours around my children may have you reconsidering this whole mess.”

“Oh, my Dragonborn, don’t you know by now that I love a challenge?”

# # #

There were no windows in the antechamber of Korvanjund but when Seirian woke, she knew it to be the small hours of morning. The air held a certain chill. The fire had burnt low as they slept. She stoked the embers, adding a few small pieces of wood and murmuring a flame spell. As the light and heat extended throughout the room, she heard coughs and curses as the soldiers began to stir. Across the fire from her, Ulfric sat up, eyes alert even as he yawned hugely and stretched before rising and beginning to pack up his bed roll and set it aside for later retrieval.

After a quick trip outside to relieve herself in the snow and a small breakfast of dried meat, bread and fruit, Seirian suggested they leave two men behind. They would need someone who could return to Windhelm with news if the worst should happen. Then she dismissed the sigil in front of the interior doors and they descended further into the tomb.

The captain took point, at Ulfric’s command. Seirian followed close behind, letting go of the argument she wanted to make that, as someone who had likely been through more tombs than any of these soldiers combined, she should lead. She resolved to be extra vigilant.

Ulfric took up his place on her right side with a soldier called “Quix” to her left.

The tomb was quiet, save for the whisper of their breaths, the rasp of boot on stone, the soft swish of leather armor and rattle of metal buckles.

As they entered the Korvanjund halls and were welcomed by the honeycombed array of tombs that held Nords long dead, Seirian kept a close eye on the walls, looking for any signs of movement. There was none and the absence made her look harder into the shadows.

Passing an alcove, she called out for the captain to wait. She knelt, examined the body lying bent forward on the floor like a poppet whose strings had been cut. Worn leather armor hung on limbs that were mostly bone and sinew, the muscle and flesh having rotted away centuries ago. An arrow stuck through the front of the throat and out the back.

“What is it?” asked one of the men.

“A draugr,” Seirian said, “the undead who protect the tombs.”

“Dragonborn?” Ulfric’s voice was pitched low, out of respect for the dead or the need for stealth. Perhaps both.

“It’s truly dead now. Someone’s been through here. Keep your eyes open.”

“Weapons at the ready,” Ulfric commanded as they moved forward.

The hush they carried with them now was tense, expectant. They came across more draugr, dead in their tombs, on the floor.

“Ugly things,” muttered a soldier.

“Speak ill of the dead and the dead will enact ill on you,” hissed another.

“I’ll remove both your tongues if you don’t shut up,” muttered another.

The bickering faded away as they entered the Hall of Stories, the walls etched with murals of long dead dragon priests and their followers. At the end of the hall, in front of one of the large puzzle doors Seirian had seen in other tombs, lay three bodies. Two Imperial soldiers and a draugr that looked far more like a man than many Seirian had seen, its half open eyes glowing an eerie blue. One soldier lay propped against the door, his throat torn away from claws or teeth. Next to him, just out of reach of his hand, a dragon claw shaped out of ebony.

Seirian picked it up, spoke softly to Ulfric as he drew close, examining the claw over her shoulder. “This is the key to the door. Looks like the Imperials had the same idea as Galmar.”

“They didn’t factor in the draugr,” Ulfric said, voice tight.

“No. Not if they only sent two men.” She lowered her voice further. “I haven’t seen a draugr like that before, Ulfric. I’m not sure what we’re going to find past this door. I need to take point.”

Ulfric nodded. “Captain, with me. Lead on, Dragonborn.”

The halls leading to the Korvanjund crypt were quieter, colder, the old stones leaching the warmth from the air. Their breath made pools of frost in front of them.

“The crypt is just beyond this door,” Seirian said, moving toward the double stone doors and pressing a palm to them. “According to Galmar, the crown was buried here with a member of the Dragon Cult. Stay behind me. Move quietly.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Somewhere in the crypt was a word wall. She could feel the thrum of power deep in her bones. But there was something else, too. Something nearly as old as the Wall. It's presence brushed against her skin, made her twitchy, set her teeth on edge. “Do you feel that?” she whispered to Ulfric, who frowned, shook his head.

She led the group down the short hall that opened into a vaulted ceileinged crypt, dropping to her haunches just before the hall came to an end.

“Ulfric.”

“I see it,” he said, voice a hushed breath.

In the center of the room, on a throne made of stone, sat the figure of a man, tall and broad. Time had worn most of the flesh away, but magic had preserved the muscle and sinew, the white bone and teeth. The ebony armor gleamed wetly in the torchlight and the jagged crown of dragon bone and teeth sat atop its head.

“It has your crown.”

“At least Galmar was right about the location.”

“Is it dead?” one of the men whispered.

“No,” said Seirian, “and yes.” This was draugr but more than draugr.

“Ideas?” Ulfric said.

“We see if we can do this without waking it. But…. You men,” Seirian pointed to handful of men wielding swords and axes, “around the back, behind the throne. Slow and quiet. Keep your distance from it and watch your back.” She waited until they had slipped into position. “Archers, spread out, find whatver high ground you can. Quietly.” The archers vanished into the gloom. “Captain, Ulfric, flank it.”

When everyone was in position, she silently cast a strong armor spell and padded toward the throne, her eyes on the draugr’s hands as she reached for the crown. Her fingers had barely brushed the edge of bone when a rush of magic filled the air. The draugr twitched, began to wake. Its cold blue eyes found hers and she recognized something in it. The same something that was in Ulfric. In her.

“Ulfric,” she yelled, “it Shouts!”

Then the room exploded into chaos.

The shield she cast was barely strong enough to take the brunt of the thu'um that pushed her across the floor and into a pillar, stealing her breath from her and making her arms go half numb from the impact. The sharp, clear sing of steel rang throughout the room as several draugr spilled out from the honeycombs of the crypt.

Another shout made the walls of the cavern shake, sent pieces of rock tumbling from the ceiling. The captain's sword clattered to the ground and went spinning past Seirian. She watched as Ulfric's blade took a blow that had been aimed for the captain's head. The captain rolled away from the melee, came up with her weapon in her hand and was pulled into the fray of lesser draugr. Several lay on the ground already, riddled with slashes and arrows. The captain beheaded another.

Seirian turned back to the dark streak of ebony armor, the flash of Ulfric’s sword. She wove a spell into her hands, focused on the shape and form of it, shouted “Ulfric, back away” and released the bolt of icy air as soon as he was clear. The creature turned to her, mouth stretching in a lipless snarl as it opened it’s mouth to shout.

Rii Va—

The words tore into Seirian, through the armor spell and the shield she threw in front of herself at the last moment. They reached into her skin, between her bones, seemed to rip at her very essence and steal her breath, quicken her heart beat until her chest ached.

Then she dropped to her knees as the shout dissipated, incomplete. Ulfric’s blade stuck out of the chest of the ebony draugr and Seirian raised her hands, called the spell that had been on the tip of her tongue and drove lightning into the dead thing’s herat. The light in its eyes dimmed as it fell forward on it’s knees and then collapsed. Ulfric’s sword, pushed out by the impact, clattered to the ground next to it, arcs of blue and silver lightning streaming over the blade.

“Thank you,” she gasped as Ulfric knelt at her side.

“That draugr’s shout. Your eyes,” Ulfric said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steadying her, “they turned silver as mist. I thought you were dying.”

“I think…I was. For a moment,” Seirian said. Her breath seemed to be coming back, her heart beat slowing to its usual tempo. The feel of the shout still crawled beneath her skin but the pain had gone. “The draugr—“

“All dead,” Ulfric said, nodding toward the group of soldiers, some inspecting the fallen bodies, others keeping an eye on the shadows. “Can you stand?”

No, Seirian thought, but she said, “Yes.”

“Let me help.” The words were spoken softly, a plea more than a command.

Seirian paused, nodded and leaned into Ulfric’s hold as he pulled her from the floor. She let him wrap her arm around his shoulders and his around her waist. It was an awkward position with their height difference and she could see the considering look in his eyes, but she’d be damned if she let him carry her.

“Don’t even think about it,” she whispered.

“Too late.”

Stifling a chuckle, she steered him toward the collapsed draugr. “Your sword should be safe to touch now. And this...” As Ulfric knelt to gather his sword, Seirian braced herself on his shoulder and pulled the jagged crown from the head of the draugr. “Is yours.”

Ulfric took the crown from her, held it up to the light, ran a thumb over the curve of a tooth and then gave it back to her. “Keep it for me?”

She looked at him curiously.

“Made of the bones and teeth of dragons and it was your killing blow that won it. It seems only fitting that you hold onto it,” he said as he adjusted her arm around his shoulders. “Captain, lead us out.”

“It has a certain charm,” she said tiredly as they fell into the center of the line of soldiers. “I’m not usually one for trophies, but this… You might not get this back.”

“I trust you.”

“I might even wear it.”

The corner of his mouth curled as he glanced down at her. “I’ll consider that practice.”

“I walked right into that one,” Seirian said, sounding surprised even to herself.

Ulfric’s laughter echoed off the stone and he held her tighter as they made the long trek back to the entrance of the ruin.

#skyrim #ulfric stormcloak #dragonborn/ulfric #female!dragonborn #female dovahkiin #skyrim: seirian #seirianxulfric #skyrim fic #queued post

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kyecupio · 5 years

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* ABYSS : the painting of damnation by wayne.barlowe and the.tyger by william.blake both give me more vague ideas that xeha.nort was in the abyss before he even began his time travels. by that i will also point out that my canon-divergence is still in place, and it stays that way. he explicitly stated that you need to leave your body behind in order to transcend through the structures of time, and with the power of waking, you help traversing hearts to reach worlds ( and by expansion, places and points in time too, i would assume ? ) to be frank, i do find the explanation of nom.ura, that he had simply ‘borrowed’ this immense power from his other self, very dissatisfying. such a thing doesn’t seem to be so easily gained or wielded, if at all, especially if you just bend the requirements at your own whim. so the question is, how did he manage to keep his form instead, whilst traveling into the future, when the rules are so strict and dangerous at best ? we also have to keep in mind that he hints more cryptic knowledge about the power of waking, the lich, and the abyss itself, than he truly lets on.

if you take the drop directly into the abyss in consideration as a punishment for disregarding “the rules”, then xe.hanort first needed to reconstruct his body there, as he previously unwillingly fragmented his physical form with the attempt to jump to another point in space-time, then he must undergo the utter corruption of the process of putting himself together again. ( as it would also project yet another type of flip-opposite to sor.a, as he was in the bright heaven-like dimension of the final world, xeha.nort, after he lost his form, was thrown in the somber depths of hell, very possibly. ) and on further thought, he didn’t switch his eye color from grey-ish to golden until he reached the very primordial bottom of such. if the abyss is some type of purgatory or similar to the nine-circles-of-hell, wherein you have all forms of sinner’s atonement, and at the bottom you find the treachery of cain and his slaughter of abel, or judas betraying jesus or lucifer betraying god, to name some examples. then i am almost completely certain the iris-change happened via absorbing of the absolute sin-of-knowledge, mayhap also represented by golden fire, kept hidden by the most brightest of the fallen angels himself, the bearer / bringer of light, lucifer or satan ( remember, biting the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil has damned and exiled adam and eve out of paradise. coming to realization with identity, with truth, with being capable of simply being is a no-go, because it grows out of the grasp of control. it plagues, it’s bliss that becomes a tumor. ) in absolute assumption of what exactly the abyss is, whilst i have kind of created word-waterfalls already to several people, i personally go by the thought of it being a layer or rift or stage of reality in which every type of dimension comes together : time, life, death, dream in between, it doesn’t matter, it’s all there, every version of it, every past, present and future, that would also include the alternative one’s, should fate ever consider multiple decisions and makes schrödinger’s cat happen ( in one timeline the cat is dead, in another it is not. these types of alternative-creations. in one timeline the prophecy became true and darkness swallowed the world whole because the guardians did not live long enough ; in another, sora came back to the point before he died and continued the battle. ) at once they occur in an unending cluster of knots, come into place flowing and intermingling and forming a deep spiral where all truth of existence lies, the further you fall the more ‘enlightened’ about specific knowledge you become, the more you / see /. the entirety of these overlapping dimensions interacting with one another but from which you cannot escape must be unfathomable for the mind, a true torture to even dwell in and a fitting punishment for the damned, suffering the overwhelming pressure of literally everything, turning your mind into a shipwreck. and who would be a better host for it than the devil himself, and xeha.nort meeting a fallen angel just as him , who rewards him for the ‘deep dive’ with ‘a personal light’ that’s seen in the eyes it is very ironic how gold symbolizes wisdom, symbolizes the radiance of halos and divinity, unification ( “ here i and my other selves can become one “ ), symbolizes the old of age and last but not least, light itself. the gold gleam being reflected in the iris of his is almost too bright, a light in the dark, aggressively shining forth and pushing aside the suppression of righteousness and hollow virtue. in alchemy it is considered a means of self-purification. turning all metal into gold, a type of bright metal that can survive ages, representing the transformation of the soul. “ eyes are the window to the soul. “

his silver eyes see everything and behold more hideous facts to make him loathe and loathe and loathe the world more to get motivated enough to consider its ultimate erasure. slowly he comes to terms with the impossibility of a strict separation of light and dark , good and evil, and protecting either, is a useless task, because everything will be dying out sooner or later overthrown by each other where peace has never been an option because heaven itself has always been in war with itself. golden eyes = / = you’re slave to darkness, but they mean you have reached the bottom of the utter obscurity of it, that you have started to shine with all that wisdom and experience you gained, you have become holy down there. ( holy =/= good , angelic =/= good , demonized =/= bad, nothing is good or bad, you’ve just transformed from one end of the spectrum to the other ) but to know the world, does also mean your innocence withers, your inner child gets burned alive by that golden fire and out of the ashes comes the phoenix, and celestial re-birth is always brutal and fearsome. it hurts, it tears you apart and puts you back together if you keep breathing long enough.

this is his ascension and demonization at the same time, before he even lives out his life, before he even takes his fate in his hands. this is his gathering and (un)becoming, an existential evolution which lets him transcend time in his own body that he has reclaimed after shedding it- and not only time but it also pushes the boundaries of materialization and composition of matter, he slips through atoms via teleportation as he pleases. he’s another life-form now, and he’ll come to make it all worth it.

#reports.#we all know i dont give a fuck anymore i just let my brain melt at this point #yes i also have read that one post that points out the lich may be #a necromancer-heartless #that sweet death-magic keeping you on that thin line #of being neither dead nor alive #OK NOW PLS jfUST KICK Me IN THE fACE My #FUCKINg HEAD HURt S

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origami-goblin · 7 years

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Starfinder Theme Focus - Mercenaries and Outlaws

Three down, seven to go! I’ve decided that I might as well just knock out the remaining themes all in a row so that at the very least they’ll be crammed together on the blog in a loose semblance of order. Check back on the first two posts if you want a bit of background on the Starfinder Themes and the role they play in character creation. There isn’t much more I can expand on regarding themes specifically, so maybe I’ll just impart a few thoughts on backstories as little tidbits for you to ruminate on. Maybe I’ll sprinkle some powdered sugar on top. Maybe!

The point of a backstory is provide a framework and serve as a backdrop for your character - what do they believe? What quirks do they have? Why are they the way that they are? We are all products of our environments, and it is that environment that you are trying to envision. Leave spaces in the narrative to come out during the game; if you fill in every tiny detail then there won’t be anything for the GM to work with and incorporate into the story. Loose ends are the best! They can be woven into the narrative in order to enhance the game. Even if you’re playing a prewritten Adventure Path or Module, a good GM will use the gaps in your backstory to help engage your PC and keep them interested. And when you’re talking about the sheet expanse of the Vast in Starfinder, let your imagination run rampant on WHO your character is! Themes are a nice paste you can spread over your character to stick new things on top of.

Alright - now we are primed to talk about the Mercenary and Outlaw themes. There is a “bad boy” mentality that naturally comes into the conversation with each of these, by lets see if we can list out five brief theme concepts that stretch the boundaries of the basic definitions of these words.

Mercenary Character Concepts “Whether you take jobs that match your ethical beliefs or you fight for anyone who can afford your services, you are a hired gun. You might take pride in your past accomplishments, proudly displaying trophies of your kills, or you might be laden with guilt over being the sole survivor of a mission gone terribly wrong. You most likely work with other mercenaries and are familiar with the methodologies of military actions all across the galaxy.”

Security Officer - You’ve always seen yourself as a protector - whether someone needs a watchful eye to make sure they stay out of trouble, or if an estate needs to reprimand unwelcome visitors, you can answer that call. Your allegiance follows the flow of credits and you won’t let your personal beliefs get in the way of whoever’s paying. Nobody’s breaking Non-Disclosure Agreements, but you wouldn’t be dissuaded from providing your security services for a direct competitor. Do you run a small-scale Security Detail or are you a division of a larger corporation? Do you specialize in a particular type of work, such as being a bodyguard or providing cyber-security? Where is your base of operations, or do you require on-site lodgings in order to provide the best service? Were you a part of a specific military before becoming involved in security or have you never tied yourself down to a specific group in that capacity? I see Michael Weston from Burn Notice as a decent example of a Mercenary in this vein - providing assistance through the completion of odd jobs and using his unique skills to outthink his opposition. Divine Crusader - You believe that the Divine shape the universe through the people that inhabit it. And after all is said and done, and your light goes out, you want to be sure that your deeds didn’t go unnoticed from the powerful beings above. For this reason you wear every divine symbol under your shirt, prominently displaying the current recipient of your unwavering homage and devotion. For you, it isn’t a matter of lacking faith; you are just covering your spiritual bases. Or maybe you have followed a strict belief to a single deity for your entire life, pledging your devotion whole-cloth from day one. Do you play a prominent militaristic role while professing your faith or do you sell your services in a more charismatic avenue? Are you convinced that your actions are tipping the doomsday scales in your favor, or is there a crack in your faith? Have you served in any divine-fueled wars or defected from a losing side? A character falling into this category should have their religious preference tied into their backstory, which had likely followed their interests, skills, and hobbies. I can’t stop thinking of medieval crusaders in this regard, but there is a lot of flavor to dip into here. Corporate Consultant - In the Pact Worlds, corporations might as well be planets for all the power that carry, and they probably have a militaristic presence of some kind. A corporate consultant could specialize in offering recommendations to specific equipment and weapons, or perhaps they aren’t involved in a violent capacity at all. They could be ruthless and tactical, pulling the strings from behind the curtain or offering suggestions on where to shave off the excess fat of the company. I particularly like the idea of someone walking around with a clipboard and conducting interviews with employees ala Office Space. But how does that tie to a Mercenary? Maybe it’s the company itself - weapons contractor, thugs for hire, etc. Or, perhaps the war lies between a rival corporation and you are involved in espionage and marketing attacks to gain market share. Targeted advertisements, facilities sabotage, and staged product recalls are only the tip of the iceberg. Intergalactic Lobbyist - You have connections. We aren’t talking about a guy who does your dry cleaning or a farm with the best space radishes; these are high-level, big-time connections that puts credits in pockets and shapes the political landscape of the Pact Worlds. The companies on the money side of the table tell you which babies to kiss and which people to schmooze. If your efforts lead to a political victory, lax taxation, or breaks in long-standing mercantile tariffs, then you get paid handsomely as well. Having the backing of a wealthy corporation is influential in the complicated game of thrones and your ability to reach across planetary lines to make hands meet in a mutual agreement is second to none. Are you employed by a certain company or industry, or do you represent the lawmaking bodies? Do you have morals where you would refuse to make connections that conflict with your personal beliefs? Are you sincere in your work? Have you been known to exercise a position as a double-agent or worked to tack on seemingly insignificant riders to laws that will add up to accomplish a more grandiose goal? You’re likely trained to handle yourself in case seals go sour, and can get out of hairy situations with your wit or your weapons. Boisterous Revolutionary - The transgressions of the current government have gone far enough and it is time for someone to lead the charge against their injustice. That someone is you. Whether it be a local affair to overthrow a village leader or an elaborate scheme to Take Down an entire planetary government, you have the tactical mind and leadership ability required to gather people behind a cause. This might not even be your brainchild - perhaps you were hired to be the face of the militaristic front or to train the rabble that will be storming the frontlines of the fight. Is your identity a secret while you infiltrate the ranks of the very government you’re trying to unravel? Are you merely a voice blasting through the sound-waves, promoting action or demanding change? Why do you fight? Is it a personal grievance or is your reasoning more utilitarian than that? How is the revolution designed to be won and what are the conditions of a victory? From a grassroots movement to an all-out war, there are loads of potential for a character who wants things to be different.

Outlaw Character Concepts "Due to the sins of your past or your current unlawful behavior, you are a wanted individual somewhere in the Pact Worlds. You might not even be guilty and are striving to clear your good name. Or you might fully admit to being a criminal but believe the laws you break are unjust. Whatever the case, boarding a starship headed to the Vast might be just the thing you need until the heat dies down—or until you’re dragged off to prison.” Escaped Convict - You weren’t about to twiddle your thumbs and patiently serve out your sentence. Through careful planning, tactical bribes, and a healthy serving of luck, you have broken out of prison and now you’re on the lam. I’m sure that the going hasn’t been easy - between hiding from the law, committing other crimes to stay alive, and disguising your appearance, it’s been a challenge. Did you have anyone waiting for you on the outside, or have you been begging, borrowing, and sealing to get by? Did your escape because you were wrongfully convicted or did you have some unfinished business to take care of? Were you a part of a criminal organization that lacked direction after you were locked up? What about going forwards - do you have a new identity that you’ve been working to build? Is this a backstory within a backstory situation? Were you partially rehabilitated? Did a couple screws get popped loose while you were in the clink, or are there any specific life-changing moments after your capture and sentencing? From the details of the escape, to acquaintances made behind bars, to plans for the future, this one has some long legs you can use to take some great strides. Undercover Vigilante - By day you work a nondescript job behind a desk but once night hits you are something else entirely. Alternate personas, white lies regarding your whereabouts, and layers of complex secrets define your alternate exploits. In your primary life you might display yourself as completely average but your other identity has an astronomical bounty on their head. What sorts of activities do you participate in while you’re on and off the clock? Are you more of a Robin Hood character or an independent crime fighter who bends the rules and laws to bring justice to those who would normally get a slap on the wrist? Are your methods questionable? Do you kill? It’s hard not to use Dexter as a point of comparison for someone who uses illegal means to ensure justice is served. Does anybody know about your double life, or do you offer your services to law enforcement agencies? Is there a contact on the force that helps you plan out your next target? Do you wear a unique costume or uniform or do you think it’s unnecessary so long as your face is hidden? White Collar Criminal - Blood is messy and it will spoil your freshly laundered clothes. Your crimes aren’t rooted in violence of the body, but in the acquisition of funds through discreet avenues. Accounting errors, financial repossession algorithms, malicious software - you alter the bottom line of companies to fill your purse with those sweet, sweet credits. Maybe you’ve forged documents to give yourself access to places you shouldn’t be, or perhaps you’ve run pyramid schemes that have created an almost-cult following behind you. What sorts of crimes have you performed and what sorts of groups do you typically target? How large is he typical score? Do you use an alias or leave a calling card to pump up your ego or would you rather not take those unnecessary risks? Did you have an inspiration or teacher for your work, or were your skills self-taught? Is this a full-time gig or do you have another job so that your extra-curricular activities are more of a supplement? Neal Caffrey from White Collar would be a solid source of inspiration for this one, and he really is a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to these sorts of things. Think about how it translates to the world of Starfinder, where technology has progressed significantly and the possibility of scams is abundant - lemon starships, pre-Gap forgeries, and impersonations of diplomats who are literally planets away. Petty Thief - You are small-time but that doesn’t mean you’re any less talented than the more infamous criminals who are making bigger scores than you. In your eyes, smaller is safer since people are less apt to notice and the manhunt won’t be as dedicated when a booster gets stolen off a personal starship or a couple hundred credits get swiped from a stray purse. Maybe you were raised on the streets and this has always been a part of you or maybe you’ve resorted to crime to rebel against an unfair system. Perhaps you enjoy the thrill you get from the act itself, or you like to cut it as close as possible without getting caught. Do you work independently or as a part of a team? Is there a special role that you fill? How much planning do you do before committing a crime or do you act within the moment? Are you skilled with a weapon or are your talents more in line with dexterity and a convincing tongue? Do you have a stash of Stolen Goods or do you turn around and sell the hot items right away? Is there anything that you’ve stolen that has developed sentimental value? You wouldn’t even have to have an evil alignment depending on your intentions and the severity of your crimes. Contract Assassin - You have your target and it is your job to eliminate that target without drawing suspicion to yourself or your employer(s). Secrecy is the name of the game and nobody is more meticulous in plotting out the precise details of your operation. As such, your skills come at a high price, but people are willing to pay it knowing that you will be successful in fulfilling your end of the bargain. Your actions have ended wars and started them, reunited countries and torn them apart. From insignificant low-lifes to heavily guarded political figures, you fulfill whatever contracts are the most attractive. Are you driven by money or do you believe that the results of your actions will align with another agenda? Is there a list of prerequisites that must be fulfilled before a target becomes an acceptable contract? How do people get in contact with you? How do you provide your resume for the skeptical clientele without giving away your identity completely? My fallback isAgent 47 from the Hitman series, since he is practically more machine than man which provides an interesting dynamic for the rest of the party.

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Another two themes are in the books! Think about how you can add additional spins to these and how the other aspects of your character might tie into the Theme. Can you picture a Vesk crunching numbers and pushing papers all day just to hit the streets as a brutish enforcer at night? What about a Ysoki rubbing elbows with some of the most elite leaders in the Pact Worlds? Priests and Scholars are up next - stay tuned for more Starfinder goodness!

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