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star-killer-md · 4 years

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Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that.

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for.

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets.

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.”

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff.

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair.

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.”

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.”

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing.

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.”

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same.

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob.

Definitely not.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things.

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed.

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway.

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you.

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early.

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily.

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges.

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font.

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied.

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence.

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient.

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms.

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.”

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway.

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before.

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall.

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him.

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in.

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey.

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook.

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side.

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—”

“She’ll be busy.”

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.”

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth.

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience.

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened.

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious.

And left you seething nonetheless.

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it.

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was.

The quiet before the storm and all that.

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.”

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted.

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape.

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.”

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers.

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle.

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket.

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time.

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped.

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies.

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren.

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh.

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—”

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.”

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers

biting into your jaw.

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them.

“Answer.”

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control.

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear.

“Swallow.”

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice.

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement.

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin.

But it was very clear to you what he really meant.

Remember who you belong to.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet.

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.”

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him.

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there.

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock.

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either.

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure.

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.”

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside.

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you.

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.”

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire.

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length.

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours.

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock.

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him.

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt.

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth.

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him.

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure.

Oh you were so royally fucked.

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you.

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore.

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.”

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length.

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it.

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was.

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose.

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door.

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence.

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.”

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day.

Maybe that didn’t matter either.

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren smut #mob!kylo ren #lawyer!reader #dr. b writes #requests #adcu fanfic

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

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"Won't it suck, Cas?" Dean declares, as Castiel enters their room with bags hoisted on both shoulders, and elbows the door shut behind him - because apparently when you're pretending to date in front of your parents, sometimes they turn out awesome enough for you to get to - or, Dean supposes he should say, have to share a room.

Cas puts the bags down, next to their bed.

"Won't it totally, and completely, and really suck if our cover blew?"

"Who suspects what?" Cas turns, with a frustrated frown. Which soon flips to a planning, expressionless face. "Because I've still got some of those baking-stories left. I believe I can swing them into a conversation." Cas folds his arms. "And you should come with me. You tell them great, because it's the one thing which isn't a lie."

That - isn't completely fair.

A lot of things, at least as far as Dean sees them, have not been lies.

Dean does make Cas coffee every morning, sometimes takes it to his bedroom too, and Cas does do most of the shopping for the flat - there's this inside joke Dean has going with Cas's brother Gabriel, that the employees at Walmart are terrified of Cas because he once threatened someone over pie, which he never forgets, and Dean always gets so soft over that story.

They do share clothes sometimes, even if it's just ratty t-shirts they'll never wear outside, and they do have movie nights every Thursday where Dean comes up with amazing films and Cas unpreventably falls asleep in the middle of them. And they did name all of Cas's bees one night, drunk and dreamy on the balcony.

Sure, they don't fall asleep in each other's arms later, or do the couple-y things they've had to edit into otherwise real stories, but Dean thinks he makes up for it by being in all kinds of love with Cas.

Not that Cas knows, of course.

"Well, I don't doubt that you've got enough adorability ammo." Dean returns, grinning. "We are pretty cute, to be fair. And, nope." He clarifies. "Nobody doubts that we're not dating yet."

When opportunity had presented itself a couple weeks ago, at the beginning of December, Dean had found in himself just enough courage to ask Cas if he'd be okay with being his fake-date for New Year's, since he was spending it with the Winchesters anyways - adding hurriedly, that if Cas felt weirdly about it at all, he could drop the idea right there, and he'd quietly just go off in search of someone else and not bring it up again.

Cas had blinked at him a few times before saying okay, and what a wonderful understatement that had been because by the time they had to leave for Kansas, Cas was more invested in the program than he'd ever been.

"Yet?" Cas recoils, eyebrows knitted together. "What are you implying, Dean?"

What had started off as a means to shirk off lectures from his family, was now being treated like a mission. But as of the moment, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed - Dean is happy. He's around the people he loves most, and well-fed on a heavy homemade lunch and two beers, and he's feeling light-hearted and brave.

"Tonight's fireworks night." Dean shrugs, trying to go for nonchalant and hoping he lands in non-shy, at the very least. "Out by the riverfront, sitting on blankets on the grass, and staring up at the night sky - the whole shebang."

"So?"

"People will probably expect us to kiss." Dean clears his throat, studying Cas's face for reactions. There's nothing for him there, but he doesn't stop staring. "And since we can't do that, we might -"

"I -" Cas interrupts, and maybe he's blushing a little. Jesus, Dean hopes he is. "I can."

Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Kiss, I mean."

And fuck that fucking fucker for not specifying that he can kiss Dean, because those words, strung together in a sentence and delivered in Cas's glorious fucking voice would've automatically sent Dean to paradise.

Dean's run out of things to say so he lets out a sound that's supposed to be the wordless equivalent of a 'huh'.

"I-if we had to." Cas adds, uncertainly. "Couldn't you?" He asks, and the ball is back in Dean's pitiable court.

"No, yeah." Dean supplies, and his voice cracks unhelpfully. He clears his throat and braves on to previously untraversed territory. "I could. Sure, I could."

That's one too many, and Dean wants to swallow his words back but Cas has already heard them, and there's a slow smile stretching slowly on his features.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It'd be obvious," Dean answers him, matter-of-factly. "Way too obvious that it's our first kiss. The, uh." He can't believe he's actually saying these words. "Being that close, basically. First times are bound to be weird - just the very newness of someone's lips on yours." He's goddamn rambling but he isn't going to be the first to acknowledge whose, either.

Cas's cheeks are sufficiently pink by now for Dean to feel a little bit triumphant. But then it's his turn. "You're not wrong." He begins, nodding seriously, in spite of his flustered voice. "It takes all couples a while to fall into rhythm. Sync up pace, get comfortable touching each other, and grow familiar with their partner's technique."

They're both just saying words now, and it doesn't really mean much - in fact, it's infinitesimal as compared to the lengths being exchanged by means of a long-held stare.

Questions are proposed within the silence, and permissions are granted in whispers.

"Not for nothing," Dean finally says out loud. "But maybe we should get the first time out of the way."

Cas steps closer, and there's a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe we should." Dean keeps on staring, his tongue shooting out to wet his lips. "Maybe, right away."

Dean stands up, breathing out traces of a 'yes' and Cas is right there. He's so close, and so gorgeous, and just that one inch shorter - so Dean can just lean in and Cas will probably go on his toes a little bit, and it'll be like they're meeting in the middle, and -

Dean's so lost thinking about it that he almost misses the first spark which goes through him like goddamn electricity in his veins, when Cas's hand cups his cheek, fingers splayed on his neck and thumb oh-so-close to his lips.

Dean can feel his breath hitch when Cas gently runs the pad of his thumb across the bottom lining of Dean's lower lip, and he doesn't have a single thought in his head except for Cas, Cas, Cas, as he reaches forward to grab the lapels of his coat and closes the gap.

He knows he's probably expected to ingest the intricacies of how the kiss feels - the details of Cas's taste and smell and touch; the curve of his lips, the stubble across his jaw, and his hand on Dean's face.

But far from mapping Cas's fucking technique - Dean can't even process when he's supposed to pull back. All he can do is stay, hands entangled in Cas's coat, and trapped between them, eyes closed but all other senses overly sensitive to everything Cas does.

It's not like he doesn't do his bit, but that's all instinct - his brain's signed out for the day, and this is just his nerves in command. It should be terrifying, feeling this lost - or more appropriately, afloat, in the middle of a kiss, but as their noses bump and lips collide, in slightly different angles each time they pull off to gasp for breath, it just feels right.

It feels real.

Their first kiss isn't just one kiss, Dean muses, as they separate finally but linger. It's an amalgamation of a thousand kisses, and a half a thousand breaths because Cas kept taking his away - and it's the way Cas's hand came to rest on Dean's arm, and Dean's fingers clutching a soft material which is more Cas than anything else he owns, and it's every little everything, and then some.

"Wow." Dean sighs, and he doesn't even regret sounding as overwhelmed as he does. "Cas, I - wow."

He's never been kissed like that.

Cas looks back at him a little starry-eyed, and proceeds to relax into a gummy smile instead of words - and it's happy, and lovely, and perfect.

"I might be wrong," He mutters, stepping ahead, and there's no space left, so Dean falls back to sit on the bed in surprise. "But second kisses can be pretty tricky too."

"Right." Dean scoots on backwards on the mattress, and Cas follows, climbing on the bed. "Right, yeah, with all the pressure from the first -"

"And the relatively newfound elements of intimacy -"

"And the -" Dean tries to add, but Cas is unbelievably kissable, just leaning over him, with his smile and his eyes and his hands, and Dean stops himself short. "We just really shouldn't risk it."

And that's all the preamble before he's pulled Cas over him, lips desperately seeking out all the right places to be, and their hands all over the place like they're trying to make up for years of tension in a single minute - but after a while, they're back to kissing slow and deep and warm, and he's wrapped his hands around Castiel's neck - and Castiel's fingers ghost over his spine every now and then, from where his hands rest on Dean's waist -

And it's everything Dean's ever wanted it to be.

715 notes · View notes

danddymaro · 4 years

Text

Nameless Girl | Shizuo Heiwajima x Reader

I remember when I first watched Durarara years ago, I instantly liked Shizou. Such a sweet, misunderstood man.

‘ example’ = Italics in quotations are thoughts

example = Italics W/out are flashbacks

Wordcount:

Nameless Girl

She hadn’t expected to ever find herself filled with such excitement, much less having thought that it would come right to her,

But it did, and it started out like any other day...

“Yes,” she replied dully, “ I’m almost home dummy, stop worrying,” she said with a smile, trying to shake off her good friend’s worry. “I know it’s getting dark, but trust me the streets are packed,” (f/n) argued back, “So, nothing’s gonna happen,” she assured (best friend’s name.)

News of the Slasher set off worry, and her good friend was one of the many people set on protective overdrive,

“ Alright, Alright, I’ll message you when I get home, alright?” (f/n) said with a soft smile, shaking her head as she was still on the phone.

From the other line an exasperated voice continued to jabber, annoyed at the casual manner the young woman dismissed it with,

“-Ok, Ok Bye!” (f/n) laughed, hanging up. “I swear nothing will happen!” She added with assurance trying to play off the seriousness with her chuckle.

Because what were the odds she’d be attacked?

What were the odds something so extraordinary would happen to the ordinary?

She was ready to put her phone back in her jacket’s pocket when she suddenly fell back. Her cell, which had been in her right hand, practically flew from her loose grasp as she came down.

It then slid farther from her and onto the crowded street, making her eyes round widely,

“Oh shit!” she fretted, crawling towards the fallen, little technological piece with haste. Fortunately, she hadn’t taken long to react, scrambling off from her ass and crawling towards the cell before someone carelessly stomped on it.

Once her hand came in contact with the phone the young woman snatched it and clutched it close to her chest, almost afraid to take a moment to look down at it, knowing it could be cracked.

Yet again she cursed, hoping to high heaven that it was just fine, or that at the very least, it had a tiny, itsy bitsy scratch she could just ignore.

Standing up, she gave a quick heave before dashing her (e/c) eyes down to the cell, finding it to be safe from any nasty damage.

Not a single chip or crack was in sight making her cry out of utter joy,

“Yes!” she chirped, her face wiped off of any trace of negative emotion, instead, looking elated.

It had taken her months to pay it off, and she would have been heartbroken to know the small splurge she’d invested in hadn’t lasted even a year.

‘Luck is on my side!’ She cheered.

A low rumble of curses then brought her eyes forward, causing them to land onto a man who seemed to be in a similar position as she was,

‘Hold on,’ She thought to herself, feeling her blood run cold. ‘You've got to be kidding me,’ She inwardly cried.

As she had trailed her eyes up to him, her breath hitched, immediately recognizing him from the descriptions, and biting her tongue, she refrained from saying something stupid that could trigger him.

He was someone an everyday person would gossip of, but never have the nerve to face, not even in a wild dream...

‘Shizuo Heiwajima.’ She confirmed once taking a second look at his outfit.

It was the same Shizuo Heiwajima she’d been warned to stay away from. The same one that couldn’t control his rage, who terrorized the entire city with flying vending machines on a daily occurrence as well.

‘THAT Shizuo Heiwajima...’ She thought to herself visibly shrinking. ‘Lucky me’ She panned, taking back her earlier declaration of good fortune.

“I’m so sorry!” she squeaked, quickly bowing her head in apology, “ I should have watched where I was going!” she blubbered, “ I’m really sorry!” she rambled on before the man, sticking her head down with the utmost respect.

‘Please don’t kill me!’ She translated in her mind, hoping he understood the unspoken cry through her apology.

Watching with widened eyes, he stared down the young woman with a look of surprise worn on his face. His full attention was on her to such a degree that almost everything else became an afterthought. Heck, even the guy he’d been chasing down became irrelevant by then.

He had even forgotten why he had been so angry in the first place…

‘Some dumbass…’ He dumbly thought to himself, ‘It’s always some dumbass,’ He added, knowing it was true.

“That dumbass who’s probably gone by now,” he tisked to himself, slowly coming back to his senses, his shoulders dropping in defeat.

Taking notice of his rather passive, defeated behavior she stood up with returning confidence, her concern growing for him instead,

“Hey...I didn’t hurt you did I?” she asked with worry, taking a small step forward, a notable concern visible on her lovely face. However, it was clearly noted she was still cautious not to come too close, despite the placid kindness being directed at him.

‘I wasn't the one that just flew a couple of feet…’ He thought to himself as he shook his head.

He then stared stunned at her as he saw her hand open before him. Nervously, her hand stretched out to him and with graciousness he took it, soon standing at his full height and towering before her,

‘I guess I should just thank her,’ He thought to himself, intent on doing so, however, he found difficulty in doing so.

He opened his mouth to speak, letting nothing but a small croak escape his dry mouth. With pursed lips he continued to stare down at the female, not knowing how to push out the jumbled words from his mouth.

To his misfortune, his voice caught in his throat, and instead of being a normal human being with actual social skills, he turned, walking away stiffly.

That day, Shizuo Heiwajima cowered, leaving the dumbfounded cutie with confusion in regards to their first encounter.

“Wait...what was really him?” She said softly, murmuring to herself with wonder.

She lightly gnawed at her thumb’s already abused and previously chewed little nail, not sure what to really think of him.

‘ Rather odd, but not at all some monstrous freak, ’ she thought to herself. ‘...Kind of cute actually,’ she mused with a small, girlish giggle. “Kind of cute?” she said out loud to herself as she contemplated over her daring, little thought.

“More like handsome, kind of charming,” she corrected herself thinking back to the man and the little stain of pink that may or may not have been painted over his face.

‘But wasn’t he supposed to bash my face in?’ She wondered. ‘Beat me up?’ She added, confused, though grateful none were part of the aftermath of their collision.

Her thoughts were then halted when she heard a different voice, deep and masculine with a heavy hint of an accent clearly not native to Japan,

“ Come try Russian sushi, yes?” The man said, offering her a gigantic smile of welcome.

“Russian sushi?” she repeated back, confused, “Is there such a thing?” she muttered before she turned to the voice.

And In her vision was a very tall man, with dark skin and grey eyes peering down at her.

She jumped seeing such a gigantic man towering over her, but quickly calmed at seeing he was just offering her a piece of paper.

Gingerly she accepted it, her eyes skimming over it.

“Ah, Russian sushi, so Russian accent,” she confirmed with a nod.

“Yes, yes, come try, you will like!” He said as he began to push her towards his shop. “ It's fresh! it's good!” He insisted, not giving her room for denial.

She sweatdropped as she allowed herself to be pushed inside because she knew that even if she tried to oppose, she doubted he’d let her slip by without her giving his restaurant a try.

Staying was a decision she didn't regret because she did enjoy it there and if she could give it an 8/10, a rating she’d be more than willing to rethink once she came back later in the week.

Her life then went on as usual, with the same ol same ol, except for one, tiny, little detail,

‘Shizuo,’ She mused, wondering just what he’d been up to the last few weeks.

Nothing had changed in her life except for the fact that every now and then, far too often in her opinion, she thought of the blonde man. Sometimes it was unexpected, remembering him throughout the course of the uneventful weeks with fondness.

Other times, like the present time, she willingly thought of him, wanting to know if the rumors about him were true,

‘Does he always wear that suit, and nothing more?’ She pondered, truly curious.

It was a cold winter night and Ikebukuro looked beautiful, a lovely sight to behold. The gentle descension of snowfall was a pretty sight to witness as it covered everything in sight, painting the streets with pure white.

As the snow came dancing down from the sky and peppering the streets with teenie dots of white, she smiled happily, not at all in opposition to the chillier days to come.

It was the first snow day of many to come, and she looked forward to what days lay ahead, fully prepared to enjoy each and every one.

She liked snow, and of course, what was much more, the chilliness of the night.

Momentarily, (f/n) found herself stopping, gazing up at the snowfall with memorization as the rest of the crowd went along their night, almost as though nothing had changed.

Almost like the beautiful sight was something of the everyday,

‘I guess that's what city life is,’ she thought to herself, taking into consideration that in such a buzzing and packed city, people didn’t have time to just stand and stare at the sky as idly as she did.

They had places to go, people to be with...

And those who weren't in a rush to get home had already had enough of the season.

Her tongue peeked from her lips, sticking out straight in wait of a teenie, little dot or two to land on it. And it didn’t take long before she caught some, having them instantly melt onto her warm muscle.

“ ah...I really do love Ikebukuro.” She mumbled, keeping her nose lifted, staring up at the darkened sky with glazed eyes of astonishment. “It’s so lovely here,” she added, digging her gloved hands in her coat pockets as she began to walk forward mindlessly.

She didn’t have a real destination, nowhere she had to really be at the moment, so decided she wanted to see more of the busy city.

Maybe she’d find some new place to eat, a new place to shop...

Heck, even some new friends.

‘I should get to talking to more people,’ She mused, knowing that co-workers didn’t really count.

She did also have (best friend) But they were out of the city, a long way from each other, studying off elsewhere to work on their dream career.

‘Maybe I should have also gone...’ She thought to herself, ‘Maybe I should have just taken the risk...go off somewhere else.’ She thought dejected.

‘Thinking of taking risks...’ she added while her mind yet again drifted off to the strange man she had met a couple of weeks ago,

‘Shizuo, I wonder if I’ll ever see you again... I also wonder If It'd be such a bad idea to go and look for you...’ she continued while her mind went to the blonde male, well aware that she had gotten an innocent, little infatuation with him.

With a blue sigh, she pouted, ‘Figures I’d set myself on someone so

…unattainable.’

Her body then clashed with another and she fell back with a small yelp, startled by the collision.

“Ahh man,” she sighed, and she winced as she slowly rose her head up, looking up at the man standing before her. And as luck would have it had been the one person she had found herself thinking of just a little too much lately,

Shizuo Heiwajima...

‘ It’s him, ‘ she thought while her (e/c) colored eyes rounded, a smile rising.

The same blonde-haired, sunglass-wearing guy from before was right there and to her disappointment, he looked not all too different from the first time she'd encountered him.

With the colder weather, everyone had decided to switch out to burlier clothing, something to bring warmth, but Shizuo was the strange man out, wearing the same bartender suit as that previous night, having nothing at all to save him from the cold night.

He looked exactly as he did the last time they met, except now he was adorned with few bruises over his face, red little blotches staining his white button-up shirt as well.

He tisked, a sound of obvious annoyance, preparing himself to give whatever idiot that crashed into him a good scare, when he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the person with widened eyes.

'No way,’ He thought while marveling at her.

it was the same girl that he ran into before, now sitting right in front of him, the same little, startled expression she had worn the first time being present.

‘Ah, damn…’ He thought to himself as he felt his mouth go dry, the little bit of saliva that he could gather up forcibly traveling down his throat as he tried to prep himself to say something, preferably something nice.

Something that wouldn't make her run off too quickly….

“Maybe this is how we’ll keep meeting, eh?” She said smiling, beating him, seeming to not think twice about starting a little conversation with him.

“You keep running into me,” she added, smiling with amusement, a hint of tease in her playful tone.

‘Does she even know who I am ?’ he wondered with a small huff.

“Yeah…” He responded, holding out his hand to her, one she took without hesitance.

Everything went by swimmingly until she frowned, pursing her lips together and sighing, seeming annoyed with something.

“ Oh... You shouldn't be walking around like that.” She Chided, shaking her head in disapproval and pointing towards him, more specifically his attire.

He looked down at his clothing and wondered just what the heck she was talking about, what bothering his choice of clothing did to her.

“It's so cold outside,” she said shaking her head at him. “....And you're wearing that,” she said in a knowing manner, a hand on her hip, fully judging him.

“ so ?” he responded, a bit roughly, raising his defenses up as she attacked his outfit, the same one his brother had so kindly given him.

“The so is that you’ll get sick,” she said in a ‘matter of fact’ fashion, her face showing worry, melting into sweet concern.

“ you don't know me,” he responded back, stuffing his hands in his pockets, glaring down at her, chewing on his tongue, knowing he was sounding like a complete asshole. He didn’t want to sound so sharp and dismissive, but she was making him nervous, the little woman making his heart grow erratic.

He’d been practicing small talk, little things he could say to her if he ever had the chance of running into her again, but as he found himself at the perfect moment to use his mirror exercises, he blanked.

“So?” She said copying in his earlier response, making his eyebrow twitch. “ I might not know you, but you can still get sick,” She elaborated.

‘Walking out in the cold like this,’ She thought with lightly pressed lips.

Didn’t anyone worry about the man?

Unwrapping the warm scarf around her neck she offered it to him with a gentle smile, “ Here,” she said to him. She held it out practically shoving it in his face, “ just take this,” she added softly.

To anyone else, the offer may have been easy to understand, but he seemed to not get the gist of what she was doing, staring quizzically at the held out piece of cloth.

Like before he said nothing and only stared down at her, the same face caught in between anger, frustration, and just a whole lot of other mixes of messy emotions he wasn’t well at controlling.

She gave him an exasperated smile and shook her head while seeming entertained by him, and he wondered if she smiled so much around everyone else.

Was she all giggles and smiles?

Was she always so cute?

“I can tell you're not the type of guy for hand me outs, especially from some stranger,” she giggled. “ nonetheless...take it please,” she added.

His eyes were unreadable to her as she couldn't see past the tinted frames, but if she had been able to peek past them she would have easily noticed that they were practically glowing with appreciation.

His hardened hazelnut orbs softened and glimmering with gratefulness he couldn't properly put into words because yet again his voice had died.

He inwardly cursed, belittling his stubborn mouth for not moving all while he berated himself for not being a normal human being.

And perhaps his behavior seemed strange to others, but to her it was endearing.

“Maybe next time we run into each other you can hand it back,” she told him, her heart fluttering at the idea.

She giggled against her will at the noticeable tinge of pink on his pale cheeks, because with such a serious face he looked adorable.

And once again, she wondered if this man, Shizuo Heiwajima was the same one the vicious rumors had made him out to be.

Was he really a violent man? Terrifying?

‘ Not likely...’ she thought.

She’d only met him twice, and each time it was pleasant to encounter.

He had the right to snap at her for bumping into him, but he didn’t. Instead, he stayed quiet, just shy enough to show off the sweet rosy color now present on his cheeks.

If anything, she concluded that he was just a bit more on the less social side, which she understood, being somewhat of an introvert herself.

“So just take it, It's fine !” she chirped with insistence. Giving him no escape by following up with a wave, dashing through the filled streets on her way home, grinning wildly, her heart happy and bouncing with each step.

“- Please take care of yourself! ” she advised him before running off into the crowd and eventually disappearing away through the mass of people.

She just wanted to go home now, push her face against a pillow and squeal, gush like a teen with a massive crush,

‘I can’t believe I ran into him again!

And I can’t believe I gave my scarf to him!’

It was only a matter of seconds before she vanished, not a strand of ( h/c) hair being left behind to trail after.

- Only then could he begin to function properly, finding his voice.

He then stared down at the piece of clothing and sighed, reluctantly wrapping it properly around his neck, his gloved hand momentarily stroking it, not being able to feel the material with his own hands, but from the way it tickled at the back of his neck, he could feel the softness, and even the warmth she left behind on it.

“At Least it's not flashy,” he muttered looking down at it.

It wasn't designed in any particular way that stood out, just a simple black color that seemed to be knitted wool.

if anyone were to see him wearing it they wouldn’t assume it belonged to anyone else but him.

But there was just one thing that was off...

A distinguishable scent invaded his senses, blocking out the rest of the city's mixed uniqueness, becoming the overpowering fragrance.

With his right hand, he pushed the material around his neck up slightly above his pointed nose, smothering it with the sweet smell.

‘ perfume.’ He figured, ‘ Her perfume...’

He stood motionless for a few seconds, lost in his thoughts, many of which were about the (h/c) woman, but he knew they had no true importance.

They were things like :

Did she knit the scarf herself? Or had she bought it?

Had a friend been thoughtful enough to give it to her?

Was it just perfume? Or was it the fabric softener she used?

Was it maybe body wash?

All he knew was that it was a sweet, little smell that surrounded him, making his mind grow jumbled with thoughts of the young woman, most of which included questions he had about her since he first saw her.

It made the already noticeable blush on his cheeks worsen, and he huffed in frustration.

His warm breath collided with the chilly air and made a large puff of white cloud form,

“Damn it …” he muttered, looking back to the direction (f/n) ran off to.

He should've thanked her...

He should have said something other than grunt like some wild boar...

He really should have...

‘I’m such an idiot,’ He thought to himself.

He regretted not doing so for the second time, proving he was nothing more than some unsociable buffoon not capable of even giving her a well deserved and good-natured thank you.

“Damn it !” he said louder, wanting to bash his head into a brick wall, maybe more than once… perhaps a good three or four times just to make sure he did a good job.

If he pushed everyone aside and sent their frail bodies flying as he dashed through... Would he then reach her..?

Would he somehow be able to find that sweet, little lady now that the full streets of Ikebukuro had swallowed her up? Or were their meetings only chance?

Two chances he had already blundered.

“It’d be my luck,” he grumbled, thinking about the possibility that this had been his one shot.

‘ What was her name?’ He wondered, inwardly cursing at the fact that in those two times, he hadn’t even bothered to ask for her name. She knew him very well, his name and his reputation, and yet she was a mystery to him.

A cute face without a name...

“She’s probably gone by now..” He said looking up at the darkened sky.

‘ She was pretty cute... ‘

So cute he thought about her again that night, not knowing he was on her mind with similar regrets.

......................

He took a low drag of his cigarette, the last of the death stick as he thought about her some more. By that point, nothing was able to give him ease as even his favorite brand of smoke was falling short.

He looked down at his watch's face, the hour hand finally changing before his eyes.

In his opposite hand, he held the black scarf, unintentionally squeezing it tight in his nervous hand.

Leaned against an open shop’s wall he waited for her to show up, having realized that it was around the time she usually passed by.

With another hour passing him, and an extra twenty-five minutes to add along to the waiting time, Shizuo sighed largely, his head hanging,

“ I look like an idiot, “ he muttered, his grip on the scarf tightening.

The hand where he wore his watch was also full, holding a small arrangement of flowers he had picked out, now being bent at their stems.

Pushing himself off from the building, he decided to go back home, having spent too much of his time waiting on someone that wouldn't show.

Someone he didn’t even know...

In all his frustrated disappointment he then caught the sight of (h/c) colored hair, the side profile of a familiar beauty walking right past him.

It was a desperate, daring move, but as she took a step forward his arm shot out, pressed against her midsection to hold her back, causing her to suddenly yelp.

“Hey just who-” Stopping midway through her rant she looked up at the blonde, her face instantly brightening, rid of all the trace of annoyance she had begun to show,

“Oh Shizuo!” she chirped, smiling brightly as though she’d just caught sight of an old friend.

“It’s really you!” She said with a small grin, not at all bothered by their proximity, nor his intimate hold on her, seeming somewhat disappointed when he let go, giving her the ability to properly face him,

“Here,” he said stiffly, shoving the crushed blossoms in her hands, and with Wide eyes, she gazed down at them,

‘He got me flowers,’ She mused, not able to hide the instant wash of giddiness that drowned her.

‘He got me flowers...’ She thought again as he walked alongside her, suggesting to walk her home, his justification being that there was a murder on the streets, one he’d protect her from.

‘He’s walking me home...’ She added, her face glowing the entire time.

“Thank you for walking me home,” she said softly, speaking with notable appreciation, “And for the scarf,” she added. “ Oh… and the flowers, “ she continued on, still holding on to the ruined bouquet, holding them with both hands, caring for them as though they hadn’t been completely destroyed by his stupid strength already.

“Yeah…” he muttered, his face drawing away from her, but his eyes peering down to the small flowers, slowly trailing them up to the small, pretty smile she wore.

“Well...this is it,” She informed him, stopping at a small apartment complex, “Luckily for me, it's right at the front,” She told him, gesturing towards the small entranceway facing the street.

“Um...Shizuo?” She said softly, seeming shy at the little utter. She gestured him closer with her index finger, and surely he came down to her, thinking she had something else to say, but to his surprise she came up to him, softly pressing her lips over his cheek, her warm lips spreading heat through his entire face, going against the chilly air’s own caress.

Backing away from him she hid behind her door, peeking out at him, her pretty (e/c) eyes batting, “ Thank you Shizuo… thank you for being gentleman,” she told him, seconds before she closed the door on him, a soft click of the door properly closing up, followed by another as she placed the lock on it sounded.

Dumbly, he stood motionless, staring at the spot before him where she had stood. With his hand slowly raising up, his fingers grazed over the small spot she had kissed him.

He couldn't believe she had actually done it or even considered it.

Putting his hand in his pockets he then hung his head, realizing he hadn't asked her for her name yet again.

They’d actually talked, swapping little mindless stories, and he was even led to her home, yet still had no name.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered while he hung his head, however this time around, he wasn’t defeated.

He wore a small smile, still feeling the ghost of the sweet press to his cheek present over his flesh.

‘Well...there's always tomorrow,’ He thought to himself, chuckling to himself as he thought of all the little excuses he could make to talk to her, knowing that it probably wasn’t necessary for him to wait out her door, because eventually, they’d run into each other again,

‘I’ll get it right,’ He mused, his walk back home pleasant as he thought of all the ways he could try and make her smile.

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147 notes · View notes

carolsideblog · 4 years

Text

Undiagnosed Autism in Adults | Being Shamed for Special Interests

What is a Special Interest?

I’m 27 and I have autism.

Therefore, I have special interests. Generally speaking, in the context of the autistic spectrum disorder, a special interest is... just genuinely hard for me to describe or explain? Here are some links with definitions of special interests.

Autism Fandom Wikia

Ambitious About Autism

Amythest Schaber - Ask an Autistic, What are Special Interests?

Purple Ella - Autism & Special Interests

... long post ahead / cw for cussing and swearinig ...

The Comfort of my Special Interests

My special interests are things that I’m deeply passionate about and something that I latch onto, almost as a coping mechanism. I have a variety of special interests that shift in and out of focus through out the months in a year, but I could prattle on and ON AND ON for HOURS about any of them.

When I’m immersed in my current favorite special interest, I am over the moon. I feel productive, the world makes sense, I feel like my life makes sense, and I can calm down faster from a stressful, overwhelming day.

Adulthood and the Expectations of Neurotypicals

But in adulthood, it’s generally not seen as a mature thing for an old woman in her twenties to STILL be fucking talking about “dumb shit.” Shit that’s “bad,” shit that’s “problematic,” or shit that’s not for “my age group.”

I don’t fucking know what women in their late twenties are supposed to do. I’m not a sensible enough of an adult to know.

I also know very well that my shit is problematic, bad, and/or not for my age group. I probably researched 5 hours straight on my special interest for nearly a month when I discovered it. I know books, games and movies that I’ve taken a shine to forwards and backwards, I know deep-cut fandom jokes in different things I like, I know who created what and when.

But this isn’t impressive to anyone. To the rest of neurotypical society, one needs to have a bunch of light hearted little hobbies that you can switch too whenever you want because that’s “healthy.” It’s “not healthy” whatsoever (apparently) to STILL be talking about something that I love, because I’m an adult and I should have hobbies and I should have a job filing away things and writing data in spreadsheets like a good little working woman.

Or whatever, I don’t know.

Guilt, Shame and Stigma

I just... don’t understand why people shame people for the things that bring them joy, even if the things that bring them joy are objectively poor quality or badly made. The things I love make me happy, and they make me happy for lots of different reasons.

Some reasons include...

It was close to my childhood and I have a strong attachment to it

It was the lifeline I clung onto when I was going through a rough part of my life and the memories I have of it bring me comfort

I felt proud investing time in researching information, collecting memorabilia, and becoming an “expert” in that special interest

To me, my special interests were so important to my ability to cope, it got to the point where some parts of them became almost like an addition to my identity; my special interests are part of who I am and how I navigate the world. It might come from not really having a strong sense of self in the first place, I don’t know.

So when people scold me for still talking about my special interests, or make passive aggressive, off-hand comments about my special interests, or when they’re even out-right criticizing my special interests, (”It’s a bad book, it’s a bad game, the movie sucks,”)

Even if I know they’re right, it feels like an attack on me. It feels like they’re scolding me for liking the things I like. It feels like they’re criticizing me for liking something bad. It feels like they’re being passive aggressive and unfair because they don’t like me.

Rationally and logically I know this isn’t true. But it still feels like an emotional punch in the gut. It still feels like people are policing what I should and shouldn’t like. And it pisses me off and makes me ruminate.

An Open Letter to Neurotypicals

Hello, ally.

Life is hard. You and I both know that. But thankfully, there are loads of things in this world that can bring us joy. We have lots of things to keep us entertained, to socialize over, and to be passionate about.

But I get it: someone in your life keeps talking about that one thing all the time. Maybe you’re tired, maybe you’ve heard so much about this thing before, you’ve had enough or got bored. I dunno? But you’re tank is empty and you need a break, and that’s fair.

If for whatever reason your friend won’t shut up about something they really seem to love and it makes them happy... Be nice about it I guess?

If I could say anything to any neurotypical that I’ve spoken too in my lifetime right now, it’s this: be frank, honest, and straightforward. Don’t beat around the bush and don’t “drop hints.” Don’t always rely on people figuring it out for themselves. Just because things might come naturally to you doesn’t mean those same things come naturally to others. And this is okay, I only ask that you communicate clearly and honestly when you can.

If a topic is getting tiresome to you and you need a break, just tell them. Most of the time, it will be fine. When you’re up for it and wondering about a hobby or interest that someone told you about, bring it up with them again. It might brighten their day.

You don’t have to participate in the special interest of a friend if you don’t want too. Just be there for your friends, lend an ear if you can, and be supportive.

An Open Letter to the Neurodiverse

Hello, friend.

Don’t let people get you down about your special interests. If there’s something in this world that makes you passionate, that keeps you up at night because you’re so excited, that makes you rush to wake up because you want to do your Favorite Thing in the Entire World™, then please keep embracing that thing.

It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit the standards of neurotypicals. You don’t have to please people. If people are giving you a hard time because something makes you happy??? They’re probably not the right people to be around anyway. Someone in your life just kinda humoring you and you wish you had more? Same! But it’s okay. People who love you are listening as best they can, but please, I promise you if you keep looking, you will find your like-minded people and you will be able to find people to talk about your passions with.

If it makes you happy, if it brings you joy, if it brings you comfort, please don’t let that go if people keep nagging you for it. You have no reason to feel guilty or ashamed for something that helps you cope, that keeps you grounded, that makes you happy.

Also know that as much love and joy and comfort that your special interest gives you... remember you are still a whole entire person. You can wear your special interest as apart of you if you feel that brings you the most honest and genuine comfort and joy, but just remember that you don’t need to be limited to just this one thing. You have full permission to also be anything else you want to be in addition to this special interest. This is not to scold or shame you, but this is to remind you that you are a valid, whole person, and you are allowed to transform however you want too.

Closing Ramblings and Musings

I’ve been really bothered by this.

Like I’ve been thinking about this a lot, on again and off again, since November.

Through out my life, people have made lots of comments about my hobbies and the things I like. Most of them negative.

From the music I like to listen too, the bands and groups I follow, to the books I loved to read, to the movies I like to watch, to the games I love to play. I have my own genuine criticism and critiques that I have for a variety of things that fall under my special interests. I’m passionate and thorough with my feedback because I love all of my special interests so much, and I know they could be better.

I have a lot of complex feelings and a lot of things to reconcile with my special interests. It’s so hard to grow up and start to learn and realize how... bad they are all. How problematic some are, how poor quality or laughably simple they all are. I can give you all of my different reasons for why I like them and I could tell you all day about how I know they’re all bad... but I know some of the things I love are just laughing stocks and punching bags in pop culture to the neurotypical society.

But I can’t just let them go. That’s what I couldn’t stop thinking about in November and December. I really just couldn’t let these things go. For personal reasons, for nostalgia reasons, for coping reasons. I love these things. And I carry a lot of guilt and frustration with myself because I can’t let these things go. I can’t just switch to new fandoms, new books, new movies, new groups. At least, maybe not yet. I don’t know.

I just don’t know. I want to reclaim the parts I love but I know that It’s not a real solution. There’s such a major divide between the special interests I love and what I actually believe in and stand for. They directly conflict with each other and it’s frustrating and complicated.

I really don’t know how to close this post, to be honest. This post won’t solve the problem I have. It won’t explain to the people who scolded me for my special interest, it won’t make them understand or forgive me about why I keep talking about a stupid book with a bad premise, it won’t make them understand why I have “bad taste” or why a 27 year old woman won’t shut up about something largely assumed “meant for kids.”

This was just to vent and maybe lend hope to people feel the same way or have the same struggles.

#autism #special interests #autism special interest #neurodiversity #neurodivergence #rant #guilt #frustration #stigma #adults with autism #autistic adults #autistic blogger #female autism #autistic woman

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kanri-tea · 3 years

Text

Demon Slayer! AU (Part 1 - The Beginning)

Ramuda and Jakurai are tossed into a strange new world, but at least they have each other. Things are peaceful at first, but not all happiness lasts.

~~~

“I’m heading out!”

“Be careful,” Ramuda hears Jakurai call out from the depths of the clinic, no doubt busy with another patient. The pattering of footsteps could be heard as children raced around the wooden hut, snow crunching under their feet.

“Are you going to the village today?”

“Ehh? I want to go too!”

Ramuda laughed as the Hanako and Takeo whined. It was almost New Years, so going down and selling charcoal to earn some more money so that everyone could eat to their heart’s content wasn’t a bad idea. Even though Jakurai received many donations throughout the year, even his saintly attitude and charity to every ill and injured person couldn’t keep everyone fed.

“No, none of you can walk as fast as Ramuda. He can’t pull the cart today, so you can’t rest while he gives you a ride,” Suzumi, another live-in patient at the clinic, sighs. The man was still lecturing Hanako and Takeo when Ramuda leaves, waving his goodbyes, but well, that was old man Suzumi for you.

As Ramuda walked down the snowy mountain, his mind drifted. How many years has it been? Five years? Wow, time really has flown bye, he thinks. And it’s probably been even longer for Jakurai. It’s strange, to be stuck in the past with only Jakurai.

Ramuda hummed to himself. Maybe he should buy some fresh eggs – along with mochi of course – while he was in the village! After all, Jakurai always did like having eggs over rice with natto.

They’re facing another bitter and angry person with an illegal microphone. They’re always bitter and angry though, bitter at the changes in the world, angry at their own powerlessness. They’re one of many.

Ichiro, Samatoki, Ramuda, and Jakurai are together, coincidentally, when the man attacks them. They’re not particularly concerned, not at first. They’re known as the top hypnosis mic users for a reason. The Chuuoku is invested in them for a reason.

That quickly changes though when Ichiro disintegrates. And disintegrates he does, starting from his feet and slowly moving up until he’s just… gone. None of them know what’s going on, and by the time they realize what’s happening, Samatoki is already half-gone and Ramuda and Jakurai have already begun to disappear, grain-by-grain.

The perpetrator is laughing now, manically talking about his revenge plans about the Chuuoku, but none of them are listening. They’re frozen, confused and, while they might deny it, terrified.

The last thing they think, before they’re completely gone is: I don’t want to die.

“Well, if it isn’t Ramuda-chan!”

“You really came down on such a cold day? Good work, but you’ll catch a cold, and I’m sure the doctor won’t like that.”

“Oooi! I want to buy some charcoal!”

“Ah, Ramuda! Thanks for repairing my sliding door the other time.”

Ramuda took a deep breath, taking in the scents of the villagers. They’re as busy and energetic as usual, he thinks fondly. Maybe it’s stupid of him, but after so many years in the past and out of the Chuuoku’s control and in better health than he’d ever been, Ramuda couldn’t help but love listening and smelling how people lived and moved… Nah, it was probably the old man rubbing off of him. Eew, Jakurai germs.

“Aaahhh! Ramuda, I’m glad you’re here,” Ramuda turns towards the screaming man. Oof, looks like he pissed off the missus again.

“Can you tell who broke these dishes?! Please help me!”

As the man shoved the broken ceramic towards his face, Ramuda leaned forward to take a whiff. Cat, he thinks, and says as much.

By the time he finishes selling the charcoal, it was beginning to turn dark.

Jakurai’s going to fret again, Ramuda frowns as he makes his way back up the mountain.

“Hey Ramuda! Are you returning up the mountain? At this time? You can’t, it’s dangerous.”

“Huh? I’ll be fine, my nose can smell anything.”

“I’ll let you stay the night, so come. Turn back.”

“But –“

“Enough of that! Come here.”

“Ehh? Mister, what’s got you so scared,” Ramuda sighs, heading over to the hut. Geez, if it weren’t for the fact that Jakurai asked him to play nice with the villagers, he would’ve left Saburo in the dust ages ago.

“Demons will appear,” Saburo replies, with utmost seriousness. Ramuda could practically feel his eyes roll back into the sockets of his eyes. Ugh, every time he thought he was getting used to this place, someone’s always there to remind him that this was the early1900s and people were stupid. Seriously, demons of all things?

As Ramuda settled down for the night, half-heartedly listening to the man’s ramblings about demons, he wondered if the man was lonely. Having lived alone since his family died, Saburo must be pretty lonely. Maybe, Ramuda thinks before drifting off to sleep, he should bring some of the kids to visit next time. He’s sure Hanako and Takeo especially would love the opportunity to meet new people…

Everything is dark… It’s so cold…

He’s drifting, drifting slowly in an abyss of darkness.

Where am I?

What happened?

Ramuda couldn’t remember. Something about an illegal mic, he thinks.

He’s waking up, slowly, and when he does, there’s a familiar scent. Who is it?

“Ah. Good, you’re finally awake,” he hears. The voice is deep, yet gentle and soft, and oh so familiar.

Ramuda turns his head to the side, and then he r e m e m b e r s.

“Jakurai,” he tries to snarl, but his voice is hoarse. It comes out much higher pitched than he’d ever been able to pretend. What the hell?

“Amemura-kun,” the old man greets him, but Jakurai looks much, much younger than Ramuda had ever seen. There aren’t any wrinkles or signs of exhaustion and age that had clung onto Jakurai like a parasite.

“I found you drifting down a river,” the doctor explains quietly, “and I took you back here, to my clinic.”

“Tch,” Ramuda clicks his tongue, “who’d want you of all people to rescue me. Why d’ya have a clinic? Thought you worked at a hospital, or did’ya decide that you’re too good for them?”

Jakurai stills, head tilted, eyes scrutinizing Ramuda. He hates how it feels, the way Jakurai’s gaze seems to burn into him.

“… I see. I suppose you must’ve recently woken up,” Jakurai muses, “you should go back to sleep for now. Rest and recover.”

“Oi, you can’t just say that and not tell me what the hell’s going on!”

“Are you sure you want to know now?”

Ramuda gulped. This felt… serious? He nodded. His vision was starting to darken, sleep trying to pull him into its sweet embrace, but he wanted to know what the hell was going on first, especially with the old man.

“… The illegal microphone, I fear, has tossed us into the past. The Taisho era to be exact,” Jakurai informs him, “I don’t know what happened to Ichiro and Samatoki, but before I found you, I had assumed I was the only one here.”

Ramuda’s vision goes black, sleep pulling him under.

“No. Nononono –“

It’s Suzumi’s body that he sees first, blood soaking the white snow. Underneath the man is one of the kids – Tadashi, Ramuda thinks – and their bodies are cold to the touch and lifeless.

“What – How did this –“

It doesn’t take long for him to see the bloody and broken screen doors of the clinic and the many lifeless and bloody bodies littered on the ground.

Ramuda wanted to scream. What the hell? Suppressing the urge to vomit, he searched through the clinic, hoping to find signs of life.

Hanako, Takeo, Shigeru, Yamato, Sen, Tohru, Sora… The list just went on and on, all the various patients who had come to the clinic in hopes of being healed or saved were dead. The many people that Ramuda had come to love and care about in place of his posse were d e a d.

Jakurai, Ramuda finds though, is still warm. He’s covered in blood just like everyone else, but his breathing was shallow. If… maybe if Ramuda could move fast enough, Jakurai could be saved. Sure, the doctor in the village wasn’t as good as a doctor as Jakurai, but…

Ramuda would save him. He refused to let the stupid old man die too.

He moved quickly to travel back down the mountain, the cold chilling him to the bone and Jakurai’s body acting as a dead weight on his back.

How could such a thing happen? A bear? A bear that didn’t hibernate in the winter?

Fuck, Ramuda thinks, breathing hurts. The winter air was freezing his lung, but he had to move faster. He had to continue moving forward.

I won’t let you die, he thinks furiously, I’ll definitely save you, Jakurai.

He’s… tired. It’s nothing unusual, not particularly, but there’s something about this exhaustion that feels different to Jakurai this time though.

Hunger. There’s an aching sense of hunger in stomach, but why?

The demon! Oh… oh. They were all dead, weren’t they, Jakurai mourned internally. Once again, he was too powerless to protect anyone.

“ – hold it off! I – in you!”

Someone was speaking, but Jakurai couldn’t tell who or what was being said. Why was everything so muddy?

As if the world was trying to convey a message, Jakurai felt himself being flung back, slamming into a tree. He’s being pinned down again, but by who? And why? There’s screaming too, but Jakurai couldn’t make out anything. Why... Why were his senses so dulled? Where was Ramuda? Was he safe?

Bam!

Jakurai’s vision snapped back into focus, just in time to watch as this strange man was pinning him down slam the handle of the katana (what the hell, a small part of his mind whispers, how the fuck does this kid have a katana) onto Ramuda’s back.

As Ramuda’s axe swung towards the man, Jakurai quickly spun into action, breaking free of the man’s hold, and making a grab for the fallen pink-haired boy.

Crouching in defensive position in front of Ramuda, Jakurai glared. He might not know what was happening, but he knew enough that this man could be a danger to himself, and more importantly, to Ramuda.

“I will not let you hurt him,” he tells him, voice hoarse and with a hint of growling for some odd reason.

He hears Ramuda cough, “Finally awake, you stupid old man? Took you long enough.”

Jakurai deigned not to respond, keeping the man within his vision. Ramuda had fallen unconscious, but how did he know this? Everything felt so much clearer and sharper now, his ears picking up even the smallest of footsteps of the critters in the forest to even Ramuda’s heartbeat.

“You,” Jakurai focused back on to the strange man, “Are you… protecting him?”

He doesn’t respond. Was this a trick? Of course he was protecting him. The man in front of him scrutinized them for a couple more seconds, neither party moving a muscle.

“I… I’m going to take a chance with you,” the man slowly says, “but if attack… I won’t hesitate to decapitate you.”

It took a couple seconds of silence, but as soon as Jakurai nodded back, the man turned around, facing a patch of bamboo. With movement faster than his eyes could follow, the man cut the bamboo into pieces.

“Here,” he motioned towards Jakurai. “Bite on this bamboo. It’ll be better than biting the insides of your mouth.”

At this, Jakurai finally noticed that he’d been biting hard enough to taste blood. That was not good. The gnawing hunger was starting to get stronger and stronger, but he now knew better than to fall prey to it. It was a hunger for the flesh of humans, a hunger that only demons had.

Taking the bamboo, Jakurai ripped a piece off his haori and laced it through the sides before securing it around his head and mouth. The bamboo would eventually start biting into his gums, Jakurai realized, but this would do for now. At least until Jakurai had time to meditate and get himself back under control.

“You must never bite anyone. You must never eat a human. If you do, I will cut you down. Do you understand?”

Jakurai pulled out of his thought. Reaching for the bamboo, he moved it aside to answer the man.

“Rest assured,” Jakurai quietly tells him, “My purpose is to serve humanity.”

The man looks startled at the answer, but Jakurai stays firm, light blue eyes never wavering from the man’s darker blue ones.

“My name is Tomioka Giyuu,” the newly named Tomioka tells him, “And when that boy wakes up, tell him to visit the elder named Urokodaki Sakonji living at the foot of the misty mountain. Tell him that I sent you.”

With that, Tomioka began to retreat, leaving Jakurai and the still unconscious Ramuda behind.

“Also, don’t go out in the sun,” Tomioka tells him as one last goodbye before disappearing from sight.

Jakurai let himself relax once the man was out of sight. God, what a mess. Everyone was dead now… And he was a demon? It seems that his original theory of being in the past might not be as accurate as he’d first thought…

But for now, it was time to bury the bodies. If this Urokodaki could help them, could inform them more about this strange world, then Jakurai would go. Ramuda will not be hurt, not by Jakurai, not by whatever dangers this world posed.

Jakurai refused to let another person die, not if he could save them.

Kind, Giyuu thinks to himself as he returns to report to Oyakata-sama. The purple-haired demon's eyes were kinder than any human he'd ever encounter, except for maybe Oyakata-sama. There was an air of kindness and charisma that the demon had that Giyuu had encountered only once before in his life.

It's strange, but Giyuu couldn't help but look forward to seeing what the duo would do. A demon who refused to eat people and a human who swore that he would turn the demon back into a human. Two impossibilities, yet here they were.

Sending them to his teacher was probably for the best. Urokodaki would train the boy to fight demons. The future, Giyuu thinks, might be pretty interesting.

#hypnosis mic #jinguji jakurai #jakurai jinguji #amemura ramuda #demon slayer! au #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu

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fmdrex · 4 years

Text

hello everyone ! i go by saylor and i’m very excited to finally bring in a muse here, even if it’s due to being stuck in one place long enough that i’ve stopped second guessing myself lmao. this is the introduction to my fierce son, rex on stage, or noah kim more casually. i’ll do my best not to ramble too much in his intro (no promises) ! my discord is available for anyone interested, otherwise give this a like and i’ll nyoom to you for plotting.

𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 !

how do i explain this ? he’s just an unpleasant person ?

but like ? is that a bad thing? does everyone need to be “likable” ??? i pose this question to you today, ted talk audience. you decide !

he’s a very bad boy tbh. he has a cw for bullying (not toward him, but him toward others)

in middle school he was kicked out of private for cheating, though he never got caught for bullying so that’s a blessing for him. suspended for fighting in high school. seriously a problem child. the kind of person you point to and say ‘stay away from that kid’, the *bad influence* kid, blah blah, exactly what you’re thinking of, and probably for good reason.

his mother and father were a bit neglectful and a combination of one laissez faire parent and another totalitarian one. together they managed to brew the perfect storm for an inferiority complex and all the acting out that came with it.

his mother was very much the an A- is failing type. his father was more invested in his work loads and never bothered to care at all.

noah is very angry ? ?? at the entire world ?

noah is not really gracious nor is he easy to get along with. has a huge tendency of shutting people out, his group is blessed because they were around him for so long now that he’s immune to them and hopefully the other way around. being around him feels like walking on hot pavement without shoes on like sure it’s tolerable but it still sucks honestly, and you aren’t really mad about it because it’s just how it is but like damn you wish you had thought about grabbing shoes. i heard like, trying to take it as fast as possible and planning your approach before you leave the top step will help a little? like definitely have an entry plan. or just go get shoes. in this case it’ll take like...a few years of being nice to him before he’s tolerable in the least.

especially don’t try to date him, he will break your heart.

to summarize, he’s very dramatic, a little quick to start fights, very fierce and cold? he doesn’t really understand people being the playful or soft types. he isn’t the snarky and grumpy but cute kind of young adult novel emo boy personality, he’s the aquarius guy you know from your high school class that you had a crush on because he’s hot but at the same time when you get to know him he doesn’t have a funny bone in his body and also thinks having kinky sex is a personality trait.

to point out a single reason to like him; he’s very extremely dependable, down right predictable. he’s a very good listener even if he won’t give you advice (that could also be considered a positive), very assertive- so follower types will feel comfortable? (never will you have the “where do you want to go eat” “idk what do you want” conversation, he’ll always be the one asking and if you say you don’t know he’ll decide for you), nicknames and other quirky stuff like calling you ‘dumbass’ in an inexplicable affectionate way.

i wish i could say more nice things, you’ll just have to see for yourself. he’s perfectly tolerable i swear.

ohh i can say that he’s the kind of relationship that really only pays off when someone puts in the time and effort?

when it does come to love he’s slow with deciding how he feels but when he does decide he really goes all in, fierce and intense as always. he really is a rewarding relationship to build? like if you put in the time to woo that one cold, intense guy just so you can see him be nice to you and only you. that guy is noah.

here is a link to his profile just in case you want to know more in depth !

𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 !

he’s the performance unit leader for charm.

he’s a main dancer.

he’s a sub vocalist.

it’s really not his strong suit to say he’s a singer. he’s got a stable vocal but it isn’t really powerful or capable of great range, and his vocal tone isn’t super spectacular or super unique. noah’s job as a vocalist in charm is to show up sometimes for the chorus or hook or killing part. he’s content with that.

he is well known for choreographing all of charm’s dances along with the occasional co-producers, since debut. it is the singular reason he didn’t murder someone to get out of his idol contract years ago. being an idol is meh. being a choreographer is the shit.

he signed to bc as a trainee in 2012 and debuted in 2015.

he has input for lyrics credit on almost every single album charm has released.

when it comes to being an idol for him it’s all about the performance and the art of it all, the fact that charm is a self producing group is the only reason he’s happy as an artist at this moment in time. and still i wouldn’t call him content with his life.

strong in the categories of: dance, choreography, performance and fan service. much weaker in all the others.

he was on hit the stage. a blessing to the world, i hear people are still talking about it.

a member of the charm u sub-unit but we’re not talking about that disaster.

his korean was kind of spotty and terrible for the first few years of his time in korea as a trianee and idol until he got himself together a bit more.

𝙥𝙡𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 !

97line friends

best friends (0/2)

close friends

a off and on again thing he refuses to call dating even though that’s what it looks and seems like by every definition of the word and by now it’s starting to make things really complicated

someone who used to be his friend but that’s very old news and now things are gross...

his first relationship (around 2015/2016?)

dancers squad

he’s just your muses type for some reason (i’m so sorry) and they get nervous/shy around him

your muse finds him very intimidating and him confronting them about it went well / horribly

his second, much worse relationship that ended in actual disaster

he was drunk and slept with your muse once (one time only) and now he’s so awkward around them it’s both hilarious and almost insulting

english speaking muses club and or foreigners squad

your muse makes him soft. (bonus points if they’re good at aegyo and once they realize he’s weak to it, are willing to abuse it to get their way with him)

your muse looks up to him as a dancer and choreographer

one sided crush either direction

he broke your muses heart somewhat ruthlessly

someone he just absolutely hates and can get very catty and aggressive with

muses to play online games with him when they’re both free or on opposing schedules

#fmdintro #fmdcall

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komahinasecretexchange · 5 years

Text

Title: Between the Sky’s Grasp

Author: @magioftheseas

For: @kokikomachi

Rating/Warnings: T (darker themes such as abuse and violence are mentioned in a story within the story but in the main plot, there’s just the underlying toxicity of idol culture, permeating the atmosphere with a off-putting stink)

Prompt: Idol Izuru goes on a date with a Fan Komaeda (with an additional reference to the Sweets Paradise DR X Illustrator Cafe Collab Designs because I have no self-control)

Author’s notes: You probably wanted something fluffier and I’m deeply sorry if that was the case. I spend more of my time thinking about Perfect Blue than I should but while the story isn’t nearly that dark, I did still aim for the more darker elements since I’m pretty invested in them. I also feel bad because I feel like I could’ve worked in all three prompts and ultimately left one out, but hopefully this is still good! Dark fairytales are a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine and yeah, I could talk all day about idol culture, so hopefully this fic has appeal on those grounds if nothing else. I hope it has a more general appeal, too, aha. I kinda dig how the characterization turned out. I feel like this fic could easily be expanded, but for now, it’s a modest 5K. Please enjoy. <3

The song playing is one of his own. Someone hums along as they shift through CDs. With a restrained squeal, that person finds what they are looking for—and Kamukura recognizes the cover immediately. It’s his latest single.

“They have it after all!” is exclaimed. “How lucky!”

“So, you are a fan?” Kamukura asks softly and coolly. The other jumps, cheeks pinking as they twirl on their heel to face him. With that pallor and snow-white hair, the red of their blush stood out significantly. “I could not help but overhear.”

“I-I, um—yes!” They seem to be having trouble meeting his gaze. If Kamukura Izuru wasn’t already confident in his disguise masking his features, any remaining concerns would have been waived from just how uncomfortable and anxious the other was when being addressed. “I’m sorry, was I being too loud? When I get excited—I hear I can go a bit overboard, aha.”

“It is alright,” he said simply. “I spoke up due to being curious about you.”

“Are you a fan of Kamukura Izuru, too?” There’s a flicker within that gaze, though the fan’s eyes remain modestly diverted. “I collected everything of his—even the stage musicals. Even now hearing his voice puts my heart at ease.”

He’s infatuated. How boring. Kamukura clicked his tongue, remembering his manager’s words. I should still press further.

“There are other rising stars growing considerably in popularity.” Because they are more human. Because they put forth more emotion. Emotion which makes up for the lack of talent. “Kamukura Izuru being overthrown may be inevitable.”

“I-I definitely don’t believe that! Kamukura-kun’s incredibly talented and his voice is indescribably striking!” the other protested. “There’s no one else like that!”

Talented. All I really have is talent. This fan has provided me with nothing else. How boring.

“True. I suppose he is one of a kind. Just like anyone else.”

“You’re quite rude, you know,” the other pointed out irritably. “And I thought my social skills were poor. What bad luck. But I suppose I should’ve expected it.” With a pause, he gives the CD a fond smile before pushing past Kamukura. “Excuse me.”

“What is your name?”

“My name?” They paused, lips pursing. “Komaeda Nagito. What of it? I’d rather not continue to associate with you.”

Kamukura’s lips twisted at the irony.

How interesting. How will you react, then?

“That is a shame. I would prefer to continue our interactions, then, even if you already detest me.”

“Haaah? Why? Are you a masochist?” Komaeda’s head tilted. “What’s your name?”

“Hinata Hajime.” The lie slips off his tongue with ease. “Allow me to treat you to dinner. As an apology for my…poor social skills, I suppose.”

Komaeda blinks at him, eyes wide for a moment. The invitation left him baffled and mulling over it, and Kamukura could tell he was too taken aback to immediately say no.

“I insist,” he pressed. “I really would like to apologize.”

Even if I truly do not care.

Komaeda finally shrugged.

“If this ends with you stabbing me in an alleyway, I would still turn out alright. So why not? Oh, but, if this is an elaborate ploy to mug me, I’ll give you money here and now if you want. Um.” He waved the CD. “After I buy this. May I at least keep this?”

Huh.

“I have no plans to steal from you. Or to stab you.”

“If you say so…if you lied, that’ll reflect worse on you than on me.”

This fanatic—is actually peculiar as a person.

Interest flared in Kamukura’s gut, his heart picking up at the realization. It was an odd, almost overblown reaction—but it was one that drove him forward in a way he’d never experienced before.

Is this love at first sight? Or mere excitement?

His manager would be so shocked to hear of this, and that did bring a smile to Kamukura Izuru’s face.

“I’m not lying. Purchase your find and we shall leave together.”

Komaeda nodded.

“Okay, Hinata-kun.”

I can’t help but hope this feeling will fester.

–

“Tell me about yourself, Komaeda Nagito.”

“So demanding off the bat. How comforting,” Komaeda remarked with wry sarcasm as he sipped at his soda. “Um. I guess I’m a college drop out. I’m looking to get back into class but there have been—difficulties. I don’t have a job but I get by on inheritance. I have no outstanding features or abilities. Except I guess I’m good at cleaning. Maybe I should get a custodial job, then?” He begins to more muse to himself. “I have no need for money, though. I’m utterly aimless.”

“Interesting,” Kamukura replied. “You contribute nothing to society.”

“Yep!” Komaeda chirped. “I’m a total waste of space! I do try to help out other people who are much more worthwhile and capable but I tend to mess that up a lot, too. I really have nothing going for me except ridiculous luck, probably. The fact that I’m alive in spite of my many shortcomings and flaws must count for something. Haha.” A pause. “Although maybe a custodial job would be good for me after all…but I worry about making a bigger mess than I can clean up…”

Someone this useless should definitely evoke a number of emotions. Exasperation. Frustration. Disgust. Contempt. Pity. Such emotions could be applied to a song. I doubt this is what the manager had intended, however.

“You’re just listening to me ramble,” Komaeda observed, head tilted. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Hinata-kun?”

“No, I do not.”

“Oh. Okay.” He sips more of his water, quiet and contemplative. Likely still confused by this turn of events. Kamukura considered, for a moment, about informing him of the truth—but to shift that look of pondering curiosity into fervent fanaticism had little appeal. Especially when Komaeda met his stare, and those wide gray-greens narrowed. “So, what about Hinata-kun?”

“You want to know about myself?” Quirking an eyebrow, Kamukura pressed his elbow against the table as he leaned into his hand. A gesture made only because of the seeming appropriateness of it. “I am much like yourself. Directionless. Aimless. There is little to discuss.”

“Oh. I see.” Komaeda frowned. “Is this a social experiment?”

“Yes, it is. Quite perspective, aren’t you.”

“Ah, my luck would put me in this kind of situation, wouldn’t it,” Komaeda murmured. “Now is this good luck or bad luck? I wonder what to expect.”

Expect?

Kamukura did straighten at that.

“Komaeda Nagito. What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Komaeda cheerfully brushed him off. “It doesn’t concern you, Hinata-kun, if you really are just some nobody experimenting.”

Kamukura frowned. He couldn’t help but feel—frustrated at such a response, but he said nothing more as no response felt appropriate.

Their food was set out by the friendly waitress, who predictably smiled when Komaeda cheerfully thanked her. With a nod and the typical boring platitudes, she was off. Kamukura paid her no further mind. Instead he focused on Komaeda, humming as he bit into a slice of toast.

“It is unusual that you ordered breakfast food for lunch,” Kamukura remarked. “Perhaps that is a mere preference.”

“It’s not that strange,” Komaeda said through a mouthful of toast. “Quite a few people are like that.”

“I suppose.” He began to cut his meal into perfect pieces, each the same size. When he brought one to his mouth, it was with elegance. Not a drop out of place.

“The way you eat is much more unusual,” Komaeda pointed out. “But, I guess it’s endearing.” He softly chuckles into his hand. “Is this your first time on a date?”

“Could you tell?” Kamukura asked dryly. Komaeda laughs again.

“I-I’ve never been on a date before either and yet somehow I could still tell, haha!” Komaeda Nagito ends up coughing a few times, having to down more of his drink so that he could breathe. His cheeks are flushed from the exertion, and he clears his throat while avoiding the other’s gaze. Despite that, his lips are still curved upwards and it’s—certainly a sight.

“How would you say this is going?” Kamukura asked, less dry than before. “Would you care for a revisit?”

“What kind of wording is that?” Komaeda snorted, covering his mouth. Another muffled string of giggles. “I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t mean to laugh so much, it’s just…it’s just…!”

People laugh for all kinds of reasons. Mirth. Humor. Embarrassment. Disbelief. Misery. Although I have never laughed at all. Another aspect that others find unnerving. Inhuman.

“Another date,” he found himself saying. “After this one.”

“M-Mmm…” Finishing the rest of his drink, Komaeda’s eyes were wide and inquisitive. “Okay. If you’re going to demand with such a scary face.”

Kamukura nods, eyes intent and intense and yet Komaeda smiles without a care.

Oh.

Komaeda’s smile is bright.

–

“Yooo, Kamukuraaaa! Heeeey!”

Kamukura pointedly ignores the calls in lieu of staring out a window, out at the clouds.

“Hey, heeeeeey!!”

Rather obnoxiously, he can see the caller reflected in the window glass. A wide smile—but not like Komaeda Nagito’s. Not like his at all. Komaeda wasn’t so outstanding with his appearance and force of personality. Kamukura stares at his own reflection, at his own features that have been called striking many a times.

“Enoshima-san!” someone else calls, firm yet friendly. “Kamukura-san seems busy. How about I show you around elsewhere?”

“Urgh, laaaaame! But would you really do that, Maizono-san? Aww, such a doll!”

That Enoshima is finally led away, and Kamukura lets his eyes flutter. He can’t see Maizono’s expression in the window, but he has observed her enough times.

“You do seem pretty deep in thought, Izuru-kun,” is remarked by another presence. The more mild-mannered man who likely kept his head down when entering rooms, although he too, had a particular smile. One that was likely as weathered into his face as the early wrinkles despite an arguable youth. “Have you been thinking about what I suggested?”

“Go out more, have more experiences, you may find the world more beautiful,” Kamukura droned, ever unimpressed. “Truth be told, those suggestions were too vague to be helpful.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” the other apologizes, smile apologetic. Again, Kamukura thinks of Komaeda. “But, for what it’s worth—you do seem to be in a better mood than usual. Has something happened after all?”

“You could say that,” Kamukura spoke more to the window, eyes more entranced by the overcast clouds floating above, blanketing the blue sky. “Kirigiri-san, your only desire is for efficiency. The details do not matter.”

Kirigiri’s face surely twisted a bit, but that smile would still remain.

“I do worry about you as a person, Izuru-kun, not just as your manager,” he goes on to say. Kind and gentle, like any well-meaning adult. “So, when you suffer a slump, it concerns me deeper than you may think.”

He assumes I think so shallowly of him. Even though he is, indeed, a shallow person.

“Perhaps,” Kamukura says. “The next song should be based on the sky.”

“Ah.” There’s a soft laugh from his manager. “That’s a surprisingly quaint subject for you, Izuru-kun. Head in the clouds, huh?”

He’s a shallow, shallow man.

“Something like that, I suppose.”

The perfect manager for an even more shallow individual such as myself.

–

He does not always write his own songs, because he finds he has too much and too little to say at the same time. And yet, when he finds a topic to focus on, it’s with perfect precision. Like a surgeon with a scalpel, he cuts through the ideas and meanings to delves into the core. Kirigiri had once compared his lyrics to a scholarly paper with one of those not-quite laughs. Despite the dryness of such a comparison, he had still been entranced by the song when recorded.

And yet, Kamukura Izuru could not say he felt much. Once he poured out everything, he was nothing more than a husk to be detached and left to rot. And yet, he was expected to continue. To write another song. And another.

Eventually, he is given the option to have a different songwriter—but he is told the results are less effective. Less interesting. More boring. And the brightness of the spotlights—both literal and metaphorical—are headache-inducing.

Truth be told, he’s not sure what the point of it all is. He simply remains because he has no direction.

No direction except for Komaeda Nagito, waiting by a sculpture of birds, with a couple pigeons even flocking by his feet. No aim towards anything except Komaeda meeting his stare and waving him over with a grin.

“Hinata-kun! It’s a special exhibit today!” he exclaims. “It’s the Underworld! One of the pieces is a re-imagining of Orpheus and Eurydice! There’s also paintings of spirits related to Taiwanese folklore…”

“Death is our certain, its hour uncertain,” Kamukura replied, cryptic and lyrical and Komaeda’s eyes sparkled.

“I recognize the reference! Hinata-kun’s actually quite well-read! How impressive!” Komaeda gives a round of applause. “You might have well seduced me then and there! Aha, kidding, kidding!”

With a twirl on his heel, Komaeda beamed up at him.

“Come on, Hinata-kun! Let’s hurry up and go inside!”

Kamukura is well-used to simply falling in line. To being manipulated and pulled along without complaint. He follows Komaeda ever compliantly here as well—and yet.

There is something else. Something that pulls him in rather than along. Even though Komaeda is lost within the museum booklet, still rambling about the various displays and exhibits. There is a minimal amount of space between them; it is all that could be considered necessary. And yet, Kamukura contemplates being closer. Pressing his shoulder to Komaeda’s. Allowing for the tickle of those wild white curls against his cheek.

It’s different. It’s odd.

“The map says this way, Hinata-kun!”

Kamukura follows. Ever compliant.

–

“Y’know, one of my favorite songs from Kamukura Izuru is about death,” was said at one point. Komaeda is looking upon a depiction of the Underworld, ever taken in. “It’s a natural human curiosity—and yet, it made me feel like no other. In that moment, Kamukura Izuru could’ve had his hands around my neck with how taken I was.”

“I see.”

“Such an impassive response!” Komaeda did pout but it was good-naturedly. “Hinata-kun, you strike me as hard to please. Except you’re here with me so I wonder how true that is.”

Komaeda skipped ahead to look at more art pieces. Kamukura followed after him. It’s largely quiet, despite the humble crowd gathered and scattered about. There are some couples, but mostly it’s groups college students, taking notes and talking amongst each other about their assignments. Komaeda does glance at them as he passes by but he’s careful not to linger. He doesn’t even make a remark.

There’s laughter from the group, and Komaeda nearly trips. Kamukura catches him swiftly, and takes note of how Komaeda’s face is flushed.

“I’m sorry,” is said as his date almost slumps into his arm. “Um. I feel like—I’m suffocating, Hinata-kun. Can we go outside for a bit?”

“Mm.”

–

There was a song I heard once—about a pair of children trapped in a museum. I listened to it, listened to the supposed heart in the song, and I still felt impassive. However—

Komaeda had clung to him as they made their way outside. Komaeda was slight and frail, as if simply dropping him to the ground could shatter him. Even through his coat sleeves, he felt the chill of Komaeda’s grip sink into his skin.

He remembers his song about death. The one Komaeda had mentioned. It is then and there, he realized how shallow and vapid it was.

“Sorry, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda murmurs to him in a soft voice, one that could so easily be crumbled by the wind. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Kamukura presses him close, embraces more of that chill and softness. Komaeda stiffens but he relaxes despite his clinging grip remaining ever tight.

How shallow and vapid have I always been?

–

The words come to mind, but never with emotions behind them. There is an art, of course, to pace and cadence. To beats and melodies.

“You really are talented, Izuru-kun.”

He thinks of wrapping his fingers around Komaeda Nagito’s neck. The image is quick to morph, with his hands moving upwards to instead cup Komaeda Nagito’s jaw. Brushing his thumbs over Komaeda Nagito’s cheeks and lips. Komaeda Nagito’s smile without a care.

“While you’re brilliant, you’re just—missing something.”

Komaeda Nagito sighing, pressing into his touch. Relaxing. Smiling.

“Why don’t you go out and just—experience the world a bit? You’ll find what you’re missing sure enough.”

It had been a ridiculous suggestion, because he knew what his manager wanted was undefined and vague. It was ridiculous, because to ask an idol to open up more to the world was dangerous. Treacherous. One might as well welcome contempt.

Kamukura Izuru knows that idols are expected to exist within a constrained paradox. Open to everyone, available to no one. Sincere while obscuring most of their true selves. Expected to act human while seated atop an inhuman pedestal. The perfect person in turns of looks, charm, and personality—a façade that was never to be shattered lest the pieces cripple the person.

It was—boring. Uninteresting. Egregious and yet expected.

Even Kamukura Izuru, who never really saw himself as a person, recognized the folly and impossibility. Really, approaching someone in spite of the dangers was an inevitability. Fixating on them for a change of pace was expected. Logistically speaking, it could have been anyone. It didn’t have to be Komaeda Nagito.

“Whenever you’re all deep in thought like that, I can’t help but worry, Hinata-kun.”

“About what?”

“About whether or not you’ve decided to kill me!” Komaeda exclaims with such wide-eyed seriousness, Kamukura notes birds scattering from the sound.

“If you truly held such concerns, you should worry more about your instincts of self-preservation,” Kamukura pointed out, settling on the bench, listening to the leaves rustle below and above. “You’re quite the peculiar person, Komaeda Nagito, not rejecting someone you distrust.”

“I haven’t seen a reason to reject you quite yet,” was Komaeda’s simple response. “And it’d be boring to avoid every bit of potential danger. Besides, I’m curious about you, too.”

Curious, he says. Thus, anyone else could be in my position. In this situation. Sitting with Komaeda Nagito in the park, staring at nothing in particular.

Kamukura tugs idly at his hat, conscious now of his wig and color contacts. The disguise he wore that reflected in Komaeda’s innocent stare.

“Do you wish to know more about me?”

In that moment, the rest of the world felt disconnected. Komaeda hummed thoughtfully, and he shrugged.

“Maybe? I wouldn’t know if I’m that curious about you.”

“Have you ever been that curious about anyone?” Kamukura finds himself asking. “Your beloved idol, perhaps?”

“No way! That’s way too presumptuous! Besides.” Komaeda laughs. “We’re not on the same level at all.”

“I suppose.”

“You only suppose! So naïve, Hinata-kun!” Another laugh. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t understand at all?”

“I cannot read your mind, Komaeda Nagito.”

“No.” Komaeda pauses briefly, rubbing his lower lip with a perplexed furrow of his brows. “Ah. Maybe it’s—you don’t understand why I love Kamukura Izuru as an idol?”

“It’s because of his talent,” was the obvious answer.

“Maizono Sayaka-san is also a very talented idol and I don’t love her nearly as much,” Komaeda corrected, shaking his head. “It’s more because of his presence. Even when in the same vicinity, Kamukura Izuru feels so distant.”

Distance is both a strength and a weakness for an idol.

“Come to think of it, Hinata-kun gives off that feeling too,” Komaeda went on. “Even when right beside you, you feel unreachable.” He leans against him. “It’s not as comforting as it is with Kamukura Izuru. If anything, I get incredibly anxious.”

Komaeda presses against him, rubbing his face into his shoulder.

“Mm… Kamukura-kun.”

His fingers trail down his arm, tugging gently at his sleeve.

“Even like this, I’m rather anxious. Shouldn’t you reassure me?”

Kamukura patted his head. Komaeda clung to him.

“Better than that.”

Kamukura kissed his forehead. Komaeda flinched, flushing quite darkly.

“W-Worse than that! Too much! Too much!” He rubs where Kamukura’s lips had been. “U-Urgh! I-I might faint, Hinata-kun…!”

Kamukura snorted softly.

“Ah!” Komaeda covers his eyes next. “Way too much! Now you’re smiling, Hinata-kun! It’s creepy!”

Smiling?

Kamukura stilled, impulsively wanting to feel it with his hands. He doesn’t. At least, not when Komaeda is still close to him like this. It would be—inappropriate.

“A-Ah, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda lets out a squeal when Kamukura presses him even closer, presses him into his shoulder so that it is physically impossible for Komaeda to see the expression on his face. That expression which no one else has ever seen.

“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda whined. “P-People are going to stare.”

“We can go somewhere more private, then,” is the obvious remark.

“E-Eh?!”

“Somewhere like your home, Komaeda Nagito,” Kamukura says then. “Shall we go?”

“What a thing to ask… Hinata-kun, you’re so dangerous.” Komaeda laughs. “And I’ve always lived so recklessly.”

He has no idea how this goes both ways, Kamukura thinks and it’s the first time it truly occurs to him. If anyone were to know—if even Komaeda Nagito were to know… I could be destroyed so easily.

The idea was beyond exhilarating.

–

Komaeda lived modestly but also sparsely. While it was a comfortably-sized home, it also was minimally furnished save for shelves of books and CDs. There were a couple of trinkets, but little else décor. Kamukura slipped off his shoes, and he breathed in the smell of bleach.

“I just cleaned earlier,” Komaeda explains about seeing his nose wrinkle. “I enjoy cleaning. I might even be good at it, ehe.”

“If you cleaned any further, I wonder what would remain of this place,” Kamukura replied, shuffling after him. “Goodness, your kitchen looks completely unused.”

“I don’t use it,” Komaeda said, just a little flustered. “I don’t know how to cook. My fridge isn’t really stocked either. I typically eat out. It’s not the healthiest way to live but—it is what it is.”

“Convenience is a virtue in these bustling times.”

He runs his fingers along the various spines of books. He pauses when he notes that there’s a journal on the table. He politely ignores it as he sits.

“Sorry, I don’t have a television,” Komaeda apologizes almost meekly. “I also still need to buy a new tea kettle. Actually, all I really do when I’m hope is read, write, and sleep.” He gives an almost careless shrug. “Maybe stare out the window for hours if that’s the mood.”

I’m the same way. I know how empty such a pattern is.

“I like writing stories and song lyrics!” Komaeda exclaimed next, lighting up as he indicated the journal finally. “This is full of ideas. They’re all awful, but not having anyone to share them with is boring so feel free to read through.”

With a huff, Kamukura flipped through. Indeed, there were meager attempts at poetry, even a few mindless scribbled sketches with the skill of a toddler. One in particular, caught his eye.

“The Rotten Wolf?”

“Ah, that one’s embarrassing,” Komaeda laughed, cupping his cheek. “But what do you think of it?”

Kamukura squinted, trying to decipher the truly abysmal writing before skimming through.

There was once a boy lost and starving in the forest. As he sulked, he was found by what seemed to be a friendly wolf. The wolf led him to his owner’s house, which was made of candy among other confectionery treats. Happy, the boy gorged himself to his heart’s content. When the witch returned however, shrouded in shadow and insulted by the insolence, that witch imprisoned the boy and snapped at the wolf.

The boy was terrified as the wolf was ridiculed. Eventually, however, the witch had the wolf bring the boy meals meant to fatten him up. Realizing that he was going to be eaten afterwards, the boy refused to eat anything. The wolf tried to cajole him, but it was to no avail.

The boy would then begin to cry, to the wolf’s dismay. Any attempts at comfort were ignored, even the wolf apologized frantically for putting him in this situation. After days past, the wolf was further scorned, punished, and even starved for the boy’s disobedience. The boy saw how cruel the witch was, how the witch sneered at what a pitiful monster the wolf was.

The witch finally grew fed up with waiting and decided to throw the boy into the oven then and there. However, while preparing the oven, the wolf snapped and shoved the witch inside, shutting it and trapping the witch to their death. The boy, dazed and dizzy from his self-induced starvation, could only watch as the wolf retrieved the keys to his cage and trotted over.

Mustering up the last bit of strength he had, the boy not only freed himself but sank to his knees in gratitude before the wolf.

“The witch was wrong,” the boy said, running his fingers over and over through the wolf’s coarse fur. “You are not a monster, wolf.”

For a while, the wolf enjoyed the affection he had never known before. His tag began to wag furiously, thumping like a racing heart against the ground.

“No,” the wolf said, for he too, was delirious and giddy and salivating. “I am a monster. But I will keep your kindness within me always. I’m sorry.”

And with that admission, the wolf gobbled the boy up, laughing and sobbing all the while.

Kamukura blinked once at the ending, he blinked again at the crude scribbles of what was to be assumed was a wolf tearing a boy limb from limb.

“It’s a miserable story, Komaeda Nagito.”

“I thought so, too!” Komaeda exclaimed, as if affronted. “It’s so depressing! Not hopeful at all! And, yet.” He frowned. “When I thought about the wolf taking the boy home, it didn’t sit well with me.”

“Perhaps this is a reflection, then, of a deeply held belief,” Kamukura said. “One so unpleasant that even you do not like to acknowledge it, and yet, it still resurfaces. Time. And time again.”

That of an abused monster who takes further destruction over compassion and forgiveness. I wonder—if Komaeda Nagito learned the truth about me, what would he think? Immediate love? Reverence? Or would he be wary and afraid the way that boy should have been?

“Aha, you sound so contemplative, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda hummed then, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did something strike you?”

Komaeda’s gaze briefly flickers between him and the open notebook. That smile waned. His lips pursed.

“What I would give to know the thoughts swimming behind that dense gaze of yours.”

You would surely drown if you knew.

“Y’know, Kamukura Izuru’s voice is also so densely packed with meaning, regardless of the words being said,” Komaeda went on. “It was overwhelming. Suffocating. And yet, I found myself enraptured. Hinata-kun is—different from that, of course. You’re tangible for one thing.”

An idol should not be tangible.

And yet, all the same, he took Komaeda Nagito’s frail, pale hand and held it within his own.

“So much of you is vague and indecipherable,” Komaeda went on, ducking his head with pinking cheeks. “However, you are still tangible, Hinata-kun.”

He squeezed Komaeda’s hand. It’s cold.

“I…think this is enough.” Finally, finally, he releases and pulls back, putting the appropriate distance between them. “I apologize. I may have pushed boundaries if not outright crossed them.”

“Eh?” Komaeda’s expression remains innocent if inquisitive. “Why does that matter to you now, Hinata-kun?”

What kind of question is that? Shouldn’t the answer be obvious? Then again, Komaeda Nagito really has no self-preservation at all, does he. He allowed it to escalate to this extent, and was clearly prepared to matters to go even further. Even deeper.

“I apologize,” he found himself saying in lieu of anything else. Explanations. Confessions. He felt deeply in the wrong. How bizarre. The sudden wave of guilt was—painful. “I truly apologize.”

Komaeda frowns.

“Goodness. I really don’t understand you at all. But I guess I forgive you.”

“I used you,” he burst out with. “Are you that detached?”

“I let you use me because I didn’t care, yes,” Komaeda admits it so easily. Kamukura sees himself and it’s startling. “I thought it would be interesting, after all.”

Despite that, despite everything, Kamukura takes Komaeda’s hand and squeezes.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m sorry. I didn’t care either at first—and that was wrong of me.”

How treacherous this is, not just for an idol but for a person.

“You’re upset, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda’s frown deepens. “I really—don’t understand.”

“One day I hope you do,” Kamukura whispered, running his thumb over Komaeda’s bony knuckles. “For now, it’s best we part. Thank you for indulging a stranger—but please, for your own sake, be more careful.”

“Aha! What are you, a parent?” Komaeda laughed without a hint of mirth. “I’m not a fan of that, even if I’m definitely going to feel a little lonelier after you leave. Please don’t forget about me when you go, Hinata-kun?”

“I won’t.”

“Oh, but if you’re going to use me to tell embarrassing stories, I’d rather you didn’t,” Komaeda went on, waving his free hand. “I’d rather just remain in your thoughts if that’s okay.”

“Very well. I—do not think I can share you with the rest of the world either way.” Kamukura inhaled. “Because, I would like to keep you safe, I’ve realized. Which is why—it is best that we part.”

“Mmm, still don’t understand but I’ll accept it all the same, I guess.” Komaeda smiled brightly. “Hinata-kun, it was nice meeting you. Oh! Should I give you a farewell present for putting up with me this long?”

Kamukura is quiet for a moment before he reaches out and ruffles Komaeda’s hair. Komaeda giggles at the gesture.

“Just your regards are enough, Nagito. Thank you. I apologize. Please—take care.”

With that, he stands. Komaeda skips after him, following him to the door.

“If I ever see you again, can you tell me more about yourself?” Komaeda asks as he retrieves his shoes. “Like, maybe your actual name, perhaps?”

Ah. What a selfish desire on both our parts.

“Kidding!” Komaeda chirped. “I’m not nearly as indulgent as you are!”

Kamukura hummed, not responding as he slips on his shoes and opens the door.

“Take care, Kamukura-kun.”

He immediately froze, but by the time he spun on his heel, Komaeda had already shut the door between them. And there was nothing more to it.

Nothing but to duck his head in further apology before finally going on his way.

–

“Ah, good morning, Kamukura-kun.”

“Good morning.” He nods politely, playing with the petals of the various flowers set in a vase. “Early as usual, Maizono Sayaka-san.”

“Haha, yes, and that’s not the only thing we have in common either,” Maizono chirps, holding up her own bouquet of lilies. “How have you been? How are things going with Kirigiri-san?”

Always so quaint. Always with ease.

“I arrived early to give myself time to think about what to tell him, actually,” he said. “I would not be surprised if a certain someone caught wind of the ridiculous assignment that he gave me.”

“Enoshima-san might have mentioned something like that,” Maizono admitted rather sheepishly. “If you’re insecure about it, you shouldn’t worry, Kamukura-kun. Kirigiri-san’s not really expecting anything grand, I don’t think. Of course.” Brushing past him. “You’re not the type to admit to insecurity, even as part of the performance.”

“No, I am not. But. I did realize the folly of Kirigiri-san’s demands.” A pause, in both his words and Maizono’s steps. “He asked for something impossible. And something I ended up unwilling to share, anyway.”

“Ooh, how scandalous,” Maizono joked ever good-naturedly, such a practiced actress that the edge was near perfectly obfuscated by her sweet laugh and smile. “But it’s good to have some privacy from the public eye. Just be careful.” She does hesitate for a moment before smiling again. “You know how Enoshima-san is about gossip. And even Kirigiri-san can be stern. Not like his daughter, though.”

It’s similar. The way Nagito smiles compared to this.

“It’s selfish, but I hope I see that person again,” he whispered.

“I hope so too,” Maizono said honestly. “I can already tell you’re much brighter, Kamukura-kun. Just try not to be blinding! I can’t lose to you, after all!”

With a cheerful wave and skip, Maizono fled that scene. Idly, Kamukura wondered about her, but inevitably, his mind went back to Komaeda Nagito. It’s painstakingly simple for that image to warp in various ways. From twisted and troubling—to soft and sublime.

There was a note attached to the letter he got. The handwriting is neat and fancy, nothing like Komaeda Nagito’s shaky penmanship.

Too dizzying. Too distracting. Too blinding.

And despite that, a smile pulls at his lips despite the fact that he is still utter devoid of joy.

There is no scientific explanation for him and what he evokes the way there is for the sky and its sensations. And even though that is absolutely illogical, Komaeda Nagito is both as consuming and as distant as that same sky. How difficult for an idol. How difficult for me.

All the same time, he thinks he would have remained in blissful yet wretched emptiness if not for him and that counts for something.

I do want—to see his face in a crowd one day, but I’m not that selfish.

“Ah, Kamukura-kun!” Kirigiri lights up easily upon seeing him. “Ready for today already?”

“Yes,” Kamukura says, turning away even as everything about it lingered. “Of course.”

I’m happy to have just been heard by you. I do pray I can meet you properly one day. Perhaps at the end of all of this where the sky ends and the world begins.

#kamukoma #fanfiction #komahina secret exchange

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bloodbrothcrs · 4 years

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did i cave 0.2 seconds into ic interactions and pick up miss bennett ?? you better believe it. self-control ?? idk her sorry i blocked her number. if u thot my lydia martin intro was tragic ya’ll about to legit weep over this tragic piece ima throw together. below the cut u can read probably three lines of me informing u about bonnie in the classic rachel style of rambles.

˖ ✧ — 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙙! bonnie bennett from the vampire diaries in the flesh! the twenty-four year old kat graham lookalike is notorious for being selfless and protective. but if you get close enough, you’ll learn that they’re stubborn and depessive. anytime i see the cisfemale witch, i think of grams spellbook - never too close from reach, bloody nose from absorbing more power than you ever knew you could, always sacraficing herself for everyone elses happiness. don’t tell anyone i told you, but i heard she told everyone she was going travelling, when in reality she was in search of someone to take her memories as she was having trouble coping with enzo’s death.

so, wassup whats poppin’

i’m gonna keep this short n sweet as i can it’s gonna b trash anyway

same deal as with lydia .. if u wanna know actual facts about miss bonnie bennett feel free to wiki her or slide into my dms bc i would talk about this badass witch for mf dAYs !!

anyway, i’m keeping bon-bon canon right up to the end of tvd, and kind of working from there, so in the end scenes we saw bonnie pack up to get ready for travelling which is lovely totally cute we stan

but i’m rachel and i ... thrive off of character drama/sadness, etc so .. ima fuck it up

bonnie told everyone she was going travelling, when in reality she was in search of someone to take her memories of enzo. she put on a front for so long of trying to seem completely over it but it was too hard for her to cope with.

this is what caused her to wound up in cherryville, she heard talks of someone who possessed the power to help her, however, she’s been lingering in cherryville for several months now and still hasn’t gotten the courage to go through with it. especially after seeing elena having gone through the same thing with erasing damon, she’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but at the same time it’s a weight so heavy on her shoulders.

in the meantime, she got herself a job at shirley’s pub, considering she now has bills to pay with the investment of an apartment.

okay so, that was hella short but i’m open to literally ... any plot ever please give me it all !! bonnie has been around for a couple months now so if your muse also has she would definitely know them ?! so as i said i’m open to all the plots u may have. esp if someone wants to be the secret source she was planning on visiting to help erase her memory !!

#『 OOC 』 / SHUT UP RACHEL.#hqcherry:intro

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vindictalead · 4 years

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 & 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄; 𝘔𝘶𝘯 & 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦 - 𝘔𝘦𝘮𝘦.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒: canon / OC / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated? YES / NO / IDK

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO. / IDK

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. / IDK

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. / ?

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 ‘ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 ’ ? — mmm... I feel like i could ramble a lot with this question, so imma keep it short: Sort of. It´s sort of because even though i try to make him follow canon, i do end up including personal headcanons as well as stuff from the book, not to mention that sometimes i do find it hard to keep his avenger self as i tend to like developing my characters with time, yet as he is stuck in this class, his feelings of hatred and revenge will probably always remain within him, and sometimes i tend to forget about that.

𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄! 𝐀𝐤𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬. — Basically, local sailor gets backstabbed by some people out of jealousy and gets sent to jail for a crime he did not commit. After this, local sailor escapes prison and becomes the extra and mighty count of Montecristo and goes into a feral journey to avenge himself and ruin the lives of everyone who wronged him by committing acts of felony. I think what makes him interesting (amongst maaany other more in depth stuff, this is just a crack reply tbh) is his undying determination to avenge himself and in fgo´s case, how he is forever stuck in this eternal loop of hatred and desire to avenge anyone whom justice has not been on their side.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤?). — He can be a little dense and dramatic, and sometimes he may be a little hard to approach, so sometimes its a little tricky to get on his good side.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄? — Truth be told, i never truly paid him much attention?? until one day, he suddenly clicked to me?? i knew absolutely n o t h i n g about the count of Montecristo, nor the book nor the movie, nothing at all, but he became one of my top favorite servants if not my current favorite. i love him very much and i hope this bastard comes to my chaldea this summer event

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆? — My undying love for dantes, well, inspiration often comes from the book itself, hearing dantes´ dialogue lines (his voice), songs (that truth be told, have absolutely no relation to my muse, like I listen to señorita the slowed version when i write him, no jokes), seeing pictures of him etc etc!

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES (MAYBE?) / NO / IDK

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO.

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES (KIND OF) / NO.

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO.

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO.

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋 — Truth be told, i haven´t received any sort of in-depth criticism regarding my portrayal, yet (even though i may still keep on writing him the same way I'm currently doing regardless of any sort of criticism) I´m always open to listening to criticism!

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑? — I do! yet if they are questions related to very specific events that happened in the book, i may not be the best person to ask for since i´m currently reading the book (have not finished it yet!) yet i do know the most important parts and the beginning, yet details about side characters? i may not be able to answer them unless i do research first for the time being (at least until i finish the book of course!)

𝐈𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒, 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐘? — Oh yeah! i mean, if its said with respect, of course! i would be curious to know the reasons yeah!

𝐈𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 ? — Well, everyone is entitled to their opinion so there is nothing one can truly do about that hahaha! if someone disagrees with my portrayal then maybe it would be best to soft block me or something? let´s take it chilly yeah!

𝐈𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 ? — I will still love my muse and keep on writing him. Again, there is nothing i can do to change your opinion if you dislike him so there is that.

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒 ? — Oh yeah! English is not my native language so sometimes I tend to think whether I wrote a sentence correctly or not. As of grammatical errors, I tend to have this app that helps you correct them so my biggest issue comes down to sentences tbh

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐍 ? — I think so, yeah! i sometimes do worry i come up waaay too hyped up so I try to tone down my love for yelling in caps? i love sending stuff and thinking about “what if´s” between our muses or just randomly talking! though i do try to tone it down unless i get comfortable with you

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵!

tagged by stolen ! tagging. whoever wants to do this!

#;ooc #ooc #long post #i figured out to make this one since i rarely talk ooc about me??#like usually my ooc posts are directed to dantes so #if you wanted to take a glimpse at me; then maybe this can help a litttle??? maybe??#me- correction: myself #sorry for the english typos #;long post

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citialiin · 5 years

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ZIGGY ✰ STARDUST

i jacked this from @cardinalrot. thank you dad. tagging: @gothsic ; @blossomingbeelzebug ; @betelguide ; @thatcertainnight ; @prophesyed ; you, specifically, reading this.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

FULL NAME. [ redacted ] * NICKNAME. ziggy GENDER. agender (he/him or they/them) / typically presents as a “man” for simplicity’s sake and also because he doesn’t care enough to think about it for more than 4 seconds HEIGHT. 5′10″ AGE. 26 (earth years) ZODIAC. ??? (he wasn’t born under our stars ... so .......) SPOKEN LANGUAGES. any/all (he doesn’t really know them, though, he uses an internal translator)

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

HAIR COLOR. bright red, seemingly unnatural -- but it’s natural EYE COLOR. left pale blue, right black SKIN TONE. very, very, very pale BODY TYPE. skinny. very skinny/slender/svelte. willowy and tall and bony. good for looking waifish on magazine covers but bad for lifting even vaguely heavy objects. VOICE. posh, nasally, low, the slightest bit condescending. speaks with an english accent despite not being english, let alone human. drawls his vowels and enunciates his letters. his voice is strangely clear and bright when he sings, unlike his somewhat unpleasant speaking tone, and he tends to sing in higher pitches than his speaking voice. DOMINANT HAND. ambidextrous -- but he can only play the guitar left handed POSTURE. very straight and proper, holds his head high and his shoulders square. uncertain if it’s height alone or if he really is looking down upon you. SCARS. small incision in the back of his neck where the translator was placed. barely there and usually covered by a collar or his hair, anyways. TATTOOS. none BIRTHMARKS. a large yellow disc on his forehead, rimmed with a slightly darker yellow/bronze with the slightest hint of a chromatic shift affect due to reflecting/light catching pigment in skin cells. this isn’t unique to him, however, as every member of his race has it. has the tiniest hint of a freckle above his lip, on the left side, and he hates it and wishes he could nuke it off his face. both of these are usually covered, anyways. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). the circular mark, his unusual eyes, his sharp features, his bright hair. everything about him is weird and outlandish and strange, but it helps him maintain a striking, marketable image.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

PLACE OF BIRTH. far away. HOMETOWN. faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaar away. SIBLINGS. [ grabs the steering wheel and veers straight into worldbuilding headcanon territory ] the society he comes from is no longer sexually dimorphic and typically doesn’t reproduce the natural way. having evolved far beyond such icky things, they use genetic samples from large swaths of the population to make consistent batches of new individuals -- the genetic samples are screened for defects and aberrations and sort of tossed together into a genome salad, and out comes however many individuals they need to fill in gaps in the population. there’s a lot of consistency in his species due to this: everyone has reddish hair, everyone has heterochromia, everyone is about the same height, etc. so technically, he’s related to everyone in his “batch.” PARENTS. he wouldn’t ever know -- a lot of people, probably

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

OCCUPATION. rockstar -- cultural icon -- celebrity -- musician -- singer -- model -- jerk CURRENT RESIDENCE. london, LA, NYC, but he’s constantly moving and tours quite often CLOSE FRIENDS. few and far in between -- he’s friends with his drummer who is named priscilla but usually goes by the stage name WEIRD, as well as siddharth, his bassist, who goes by sid in his personal life but GILLY on stage. they were the first two humans to encounter him and taught him everything he knows, from how to tie his shoes (aliens wear boots, and you should know this) to the C major scale -- because they are among the few humans who know his secret, he views them as his closest and dearest friends. his stardom isolates him from them, just a little -- he likes the spotlight but they don’t mind just being “the drummer” and “the bassist.” they don’t quite have the star power that he does. his manager -- tama ahinariki, some guy from new zealand who seemed to bumble his way into becoming in charge of one of the most successful musicians of the decade -- also knows he’s an alien, but they tend to be more business partners than close friends. tama is more interested in the money side of things whereas priscilla and sid are only interested in the music. ziggy has stock in the music, money, and his personal brand.

via rp, he’s made some friends with other characters! a few. very few. RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single -- he intends to stay that way. he gets all the action he could ever need from his legion of devoted fans and groupies. even in situations where he’s romantically involved and emotionally invested, he would never consider himself exclusive or monogamous. a lot of tabloids make rumors that he’s involved with cardinal copia, fellow rock icon, but he tends to be sneaky at hiding any time they spent together. it’s hard to keep things private when you’re both massively popular public figures, though. he goes out of his way to be sure no one knows about his predilection for spending time with thomas, because the last thing an awkward alien in disguise needs is a lot of public attention because people think you’re dating a celebrity (who they don’t know is also an alien). he hangs around annie a lot, too, but this is extra extra under wraps, because annie has a stalker named jonathan who may or may not go apeshit and try to tear his head off or something if he finds out. FINANCIAL STATUS. filthy rich. should be guillotined. DRIVER’S LICENSE. doesn’t have one. he has some paperwork, somewhere, with a “real” name and all that, but he has no idea where it is and lets his manager deal with that stuff. CRIMINAL RECORD. none ! clean slate. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do illegal things, though. he just doesn’t get caught. VICES. smoking, drinking, la cocaina, sex, impulsive spendng, rockstar stuff.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch | top | bottom | verse. this doesn’t really come up in rp because i dont write nsfw. the way i view it is that he’s lazy and would rather you take care of him than the other way around LIBIDO. pretty high, but it’s difficult for him to have as much sex as he might prefer because, uh, he has, uh, alien..............parts...........and stuff ..... like ....... some parts down there look different ....... so he’s stuck having sex with usually in the dark, under sheets, and he has to zip his pants up really quick afterwards. maybe it’s a little bit hilarious and i just think it’s funny idk LOVE LANGUAGE. selflessness (which is big, for him, king of all douchebags and lord selfish dickhead the third), rambling to you about his day, physical affection, gifts, letting you see him without make up, opening up to you about his life before earth. he might play you music, sing to you or write you songs if he’s feeling particularly sappy. this is stuff reserved for people that he finds himself incredibly romantically/emotionally attached to, though, not the people he has one night stands with. and he almost never forms any sort of lasting attachment to the people he sleeps with casually. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. he tends to fall for people who challenge him in some way, who aren’t easily beguiled by his status and physical looks, but who aren’t outright mean to him. that being said, he is very vain, and he loves being showered in compliments, praise or attention. he matches well with people who can put up with his antics and moodiness and odd behavior. he likes the idea of being someone’s muse or someone’s idol, so he finds himself drawn to other creative types. he has the most intimate/special connections with other nonhuman beings, especially other aliens, cuz he feels like they Get him and he wouldn’t be really giving himself in his fullest form if he had to still play pretend that he was a human being. for whatever reason he goes apeshit for goth guys/dudes with black hair who wear a lot of black. he really doesn’t like people who are too much like him, because HE’S HIM, and you’re YOU, and he really wants it to stay that way. GET OUT OF MY DRESSING ROOM

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. there’s a whole album about him .......... theres a song called “ziggy stardust” ....... HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. singing, music, writing -- he lives for that shid. he likes art in all forms, so he reads, watches movies, looks at paintings -- he has a lot of human culture to catch up on, and he loves all of it, from any time period and any culture. he also likes buying things, shopping, looking nice, gossip. he tends to be a party animal (party alien?) and often indulges in more hedonistic fun. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. his brain is not structured like a human brain. also, head empty. no thoughts. FEARS. being perceived as ugly or untalented, being outed as an alien, being rejected for being an alien, becoming a nobody, losing his social status, becoming a conformist, becoming “outdated” or “uncool” SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. somehow sky high and on the floor at the same time. he usually thinks he can do anything and he’s pretty perfect, but that may just be from a solid few years of repeating that to himself and empty praise given by people who are just crazy obsessed with him -- he built his confidence level on a very shaky foundation, so it’s easy to start making him doubt himself and panic if you know what to criticize him on VULNERABILITIES. a lot of things, and im sick of typing

* pay me 100000 USD to unlock my LEVEL 20 ZIGGY STARDUST LORE pack now with NAMING/TITLE INFORMATION, HOME PLANET CLIMATE/WEATHER PATTERNS and PAST OCCUPATION/EDUCATION information. includes a piece of gum i found on the floor.

#ooc #meme #I'm so close 2 being done with finals just like one more week i turn in terrible project after terrible project #i am typing this as i wait for a group member to send me the first five pages of our cumulative 10 page essay. i hate him. i hate him.#why is he taking so long. i need to write this thing.#but after that i will go back to what i need to do ...#i run this account like a shitty ship careening into rocks #but i will go down with it !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#KEEP YOUR 'LECTRIC EYE ON ME ; queue

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lcnguor · 4 years

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO.

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon? — Since she is an OC with her own lore I would say pretty much . Of course there are some heres and theres and she changed a lot from the first time I dragged her out of the void of my head . I originally wanted to make more of a gag character but ended up taking too much of the screen if I’m honest . but of course , since there is many other lores and crossovers are a must , some things change once or twice .

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — Nora is a mentor character , supportive and most likely to be the ace under the sleeve like a Kisuke Urahara from Bleach or Sinbad from Magi --- you know there’s something fishy but there is a charm that even thought they are slidding in the background for the main character , their relevance is vast . As a mentor characters , she would often help with insight , understanding of complex things , giving moral lessons and giving others a sense of security whilst also making sure to throw hints about a doubious nature . Keeping a character around her to keep their feet on ground while never shooting down their hopes and dreams .

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — She is not approachable unless you have enough guts to -- perhaps even looks intimidating or hard to come up with something plausible to make the meeting more natural . And honestly , she looks like a mainstream angst character at first glance --- even I myself believe this and start having second thoughts ... :laughs:

What inspired you to rp your muse? — An old project I had archived in my closet of memories (?). She was the main , nameless character of a journal about , well , her and the emotions she had to deal with in the everyday . I will be seriously honest ... it was a self insert :blushes: after all it was like a personal journal I was doing on my darkest days . But after that , she became Sable -- the first character on her own -- who also served as a mentor ( but the story was much more dark , seriously ) and then just came to this . I even used the pre-prototype name lol . The idea was to put the whole story into a RPG pixel game or a short comic series where she ( Sable ) and the protagonist would wander around a city called “Nobody’s Home” , a place were people with “thats” ( what now are called Stalkers ) got dragged into and either confront their emotions and solve / comes in terms with them or get eaten by them ( a metaphor for suicide or dead by mental illness ) . The story was more or less about Sable teaching Nona ( the genderless protagonist ) about different mental states , issues and others and helping people solve them so they can return to the real world . Needless to say , the story ends with Nona returning after coming in terms with their condition ( funnily enough , the protagonist had a bunny shaped emotion ) while on the other hand Sable stayed behind along with her closest friend , who she question why he keeps being around if he could return himself , to what he replies he doesn’t want to leave her alone esp since she can no longer return --- hinting Sable committed suicide but by sheer will power remained there to help others to deal with what she couldn’t . Voez , the friend I mention , is even Victor from her current lore . Haha , I like recycling I guess . When I came with Nora , it was mostly to kill time and altered her base story a bit since the original plot was way to close up to make an interaction .

What keeps your inspiration going? — How well received she became , I know it sounds a bit ... uh , bad . But I honestly never expected people to like her . heck I even have my doubts about myself liking her haha . plus I know it’s not easy to deal with a character with a somewhat meta power ... I still struggle from time to time but I’m managing and having the support I have atm is something that keeps me going . I love plot a shit lot . I love to come up with ideas with others . To expand what I already have . besides , there is so much I haven’t write down yet that is about her lore but I’m a bit insecure yet . I guess I’m too used to forums where everyon follows a general plot haha ... old habits die hard .

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO / EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO / 50-50

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO, I HATE DRABBLES.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES/ NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO / .... UHHHH

Are you confident in your writing? YES / HAHA NO.

Are you a sensitive person? YES VERY MUCH A LOT / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — I haven’t got any so far --- which honestly surprises me because well ... there is so much that can bother people . as I said , I received a lot of support and praise , which also surprises me haha ... I won’t deny I would love to hear what people think , even if I later end up riding the anxiety train to the moon but it’s also a way to grow up , I believe . god ... I sound like nora Uu

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — I absolute love this and need this . It comes easier for me to make a 20 word pages of information about stuff if I’m asking specifically about it . even add explanatory drawings with it lolol since I’m kinda bad with words . besides , showing me interest on a character would just fire the heck out of me to keep going . I mean , everyone likes to get some curiosity and a chance to develop more their characters , canon or not .

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — I would for sure . I’m not smart and I actually do a shit ton of research --- but even so I can miss a lot of shit people would say <nah that’s not how it works> and that would be helpful as heckie . but of course , needing the why also would tell me if the person disagreeing is doing it with a solid ground or just because they are being a piece of crap . I’m really tired of tumblr mentality and shitty people who aren’t mature enough to act decently .

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — you cannot like everyone or have everyone like you either . I don’t really care much ... esp since nora is an original character . if it constructive critisism , okay -- I will take it , but gimme a solid reason other than “ your character is / is not ... “ and then give a crappy critique because she doesn’t fit your agenda or standards .

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — you are fucking free to unfollow me and ignore me for the rest of your life . I really don’t get the point of hating on the internet just because and keep promoting your hate just to be a pain in the ass .

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — I fucking wrote in my rules that people are even fricking free to fix my grammar and english because holy heck , even to this day I still do some ugly shit . I’m dumb , help ...

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — ehhhhhhhhhhhhh, kinda . I take everything with water . whenever it’s of ideology , people as it is , characters ... I am quite tolerant and try to keep the “okay this person thinks this way , fine .” but as long as nobody crosses the line where they try to spoil it for me or others , I get super bitter . I love OOC , getting to know the one behind the character makes me feel more secure about coming to them and just rambling about plots and hcs and whatever idea got in my mind . but if I see someone and , forgive me god for misjudging , see them as a person that will put me on my nerves -- I won’t even try . as for the friends I have and those who don’t know me as much ... I am obnoxiously sporadic and have a lot of ups and downs very often . one day I could be talking 100 words per second others I will just take a fucking week to respond . honestly , I had mined my social skills for two years plus several other irl stuff previous to that , so I’m always a bit too anxious around people , esp people I REALLY like . I’m insecure as heck , if someone is vague ( just because , idk , it was a lazy day for them ) I think at least 10 different reason why probably that person hates me now . I’m a bit dumb 26 year old baby .......... but I’m very aware that is completely on me . I’m a mess....... so , what was the question again ??? ... I , yeah ... it’s a kinda . but I try , at least haha.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by: @skyvar herself Tagging: y’all , cowgirls and cowbois . i hate tagging bc i forget urls :finger guns:

#mik talks #ᴍᴜɴᴅᴀɴᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛs » misc.#ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴɪɴsᴡɪᴛᴄʜ » games.

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fmdsamsooarchived · 5 years

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Hello all! Most of you probably already know me and Samsoo, because I used to be apart of Famed for quite a while. I took a step away from the group for a while, but I couldn’t stay away for too long lol so here’s Samsoo 2.0! There are a few changes from the old Soo, but he’s still the same at his core. I don’t have any written plots, but I do have some plot ideas and connections at the end of this intro post, so give this a like if you’d like to plot!

He’s the third born of four children. He has two older brothers and a younger sister (if you’re looking to bring in a new muse and want a sibling, hmu)

His parents never really gave him as much attention as his other siblings because he’s never really fit in with his family. He was always quiet and awkward, didn’t really speak much. His parents loved to compare him to his older brothers and always asked him why he couldn’t be more like them.

He’s really close to his little sister, way more than he is with his older brothers.

He was bullied a lot while he was in school, because he was smaller than everyone else and because he was so quiet. He was an easy target for people because they knew he’d never complain or report them to teachers. The only time he had a decent conversation with people was when they were being “nice” so he would do their homework or other school assignments.

He started getting interested in music when he was nine years old. It was a great way for him to express himself, something that was hard for him to do in any other way.

He was twelve years old when his parents sent him and his older brothers away to boarding schools in the states. That was when he really started to get invested in music and decided that was what he wanted to do for life. He stayed there for four years, hit a growth spurt, and decided to come back home to start pursuing his dream.

His parents weren’t really receptive to him auditioning for companies, but he was surprisingly firm about his decision and they knew that they wouldn’t be able to stop him, so they just decided to let him do as he pleased.

In 2010, he joined Dimensions. It was really difficult for him at first because he was still a quiet and shy guy, but he knew that in order to make it in the industry, you have to stand out and ooze confidence, so he started working on building up his confidence.

He trained for two years, and then Alien’s debut came about. He thought he would be apart of that lineup, but he was skipped over. Of course he was a little frustrated about it, but he tried not to let it get to him. There were people who had been there longer than him, so of course he wasn’t guaranteed a spot.

Another two years passed and Mars debuted. The irritation he felt when he didn’t make the lineup morphed from irritation into anger. He was getting frustrated being kept in Dimensions’ basement, and he was so close to just leaving but he was worried if he left, he would have to start from the ground up again as a trainee in another company, so he decided to stick it out a little while longer.

Eventually, he was told that he would be debuting in Unity as one of the main vocalists.

He’s actually really happy now? He’s glad that Unity’s getting a lot more attention and recognition, and he’s looking forward to getting his own solo career started one day soon.

PLOTS/CONNECTIONS

Your muse is from Seoul and they grew up with Samsoo in the same neighborhood/was one of his only friends in elementary school before he left for boarding school

I would love to have some exes plots going on. Before Soo settled down with Jaewon, he was in a few relationships and had quite a few fwbs, so exes and ex-fwbs are wanted!

A muse around Soo’s age (so a 92 liner to a 96 liner) who went to the same school as he did and defended him when he was bullied by other kids.

Friendships that Soo formed while he was a trainee! He’s a loyal guy, so if you gain his friendship, you’ll have a friend til the end.

Someone that Soo doesn’t get along with. He’s a nice guy, but even nice guys have people who they don’t like, and the feeling’s mutual for the other person. We can discuss why they wouldn’t get along.

Someone that’s Soo’s rival in the idol industry?? It can be media fueled or it can actually be real. (preferably a main vocal)

Soo’s a responsible and hardworking guy, but this muse isn’t really all that responsible. They’re the little devil on his shoulder that gets him to do things he usually wouldn’t (clubbing, drinking, e.t.c.)

The same connection as above, but Soo’s the angel on their shoulder and gets them to do positive things.

A thread where your muse takes Soo out and he gets drunk because we love drunk Soo in this household.

Soo’s used to taking on everyone else’s problems and issues but he doesn’t really vent or unload his problems on anyone else. This muse lets him use their shoulder to cry on - literally and figuratively.

Soo used to be romantically involved with one of your muse’s relatives or siblings and they ended up breaking up, now your muse doesn’t like him.

Your muse and Samsoo used to be really close friends, but then something happened (some sort of argument maybe?) and now the two of them can’t be in the same room with one another because it’s so awkward and tense.

Your muse reminds Soo of his little sister, so he feels really close to them.

Samsoo and your muse are on a variety show together and they shoot them the ideal type question and neither of them don’t know what to say so they?? Just say each other because they’re put on the spot. We can discuss where it goes from there.

Both your muse and Soo are really busy, but they keep in touch through texts and when they have free time, they always grab lunch to catch up. if it’s a male muse, the fans love it and say that their friendship is cute. if it’s a female muse, the fans assume that they have a thing going on.

Your muse doesn’t see the hype behind Unity and think that Dimensions’ older groups (Alien and MARS) are better.

Soo and your muse tend to hang out together later at night, in the early hours of the morning, at 24 hour convenience stores where they eat tteok-bokki and just talk about anything and everything.

Your muse and Soo are two guys in the idol industry that international stans love to ship together because of their close friendship.

Your muse is a sunbaenim that Soo looks up to a lot. (preferably debuted 2012 or earlier)

Your muse is a dongsaeng that Soo has taken under his wing, maybe helps them with their singing

Samsoo lovessss watching dramas, and he forces your muse to watch them with him. At first your muse wasn’t interested, but now it’s become a tradition for them to sit and binge watch dramas when they both have free days

Surprisingly, Soo is a big conspiracy theorist, and your muse is the unlucky person who has to sit and listen to him ramble about his favorite conspiracy theories.

#❨ post // imagery. ❩#❨ post // interaction. ❩#❨ post // musings. ❩#❨ post // sns. ❩#❨ post // social media. ❩#❨ post // unity. ❩#❨ post // solo. ❩#❨ post // music. ❩#❨ post // aesthetic. ❩#❨ post // self para. ❩#❨ post // headcanon. ❩#❨ post // task. ❩#❨ post // ooc. ❩

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