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excessive-vampires · 5 months

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Danger in Numbers Part 2: Exo's Award

Masterlist with CW

“It just had to be Gemar,” Alex muttered, adjusting his sunglasses.

“Do you have something against all the colonies?” Cassie teased.

“It’s just so fucking bright.”

“Most people think that makes it pretty.”

Gemar was in a binary star system, and the different angles at which the light hit the planet meant that in certain places during certain seasons any prism would throw extraordinarily vibrant and distinct rainbows in every direction. This meant many public spaces were built to incorporate a lot of glass and crystal, bathing the entire area in patterns of colored light.

“Besides,” Cassie continued. “This is where Exohive’s primary residence is.”

“They couldn’t have picked any of their other residences? Or is it important that it be the queen bee’s nest?”

“You know that’s not how it works. Besides, would you rather be on Nova?”

“Not without a haz-mat suit.” Alex glanced around. “This is almost just as bad though. There’s got to be a ton of hives here but I have no idea who they are.”

“Why does it matter?”

“What if I’m talking with someone and they turn out to be a hive?”

Cassie clenched her jaw. Mel added a little something extra stress-reducing to the already drug-filled brownies they were making and said through Cassie, “Damn, looks like you’ll just have to not be an asshole at all for one whole day.”

Alex ran a hand through his short pink hair and muttered something under his breath.

“Hey,” Cassie said. “You didn’t have to come with me.” Sweethive had actually been disappointed when Alex had said he was accompanying Cassie. They had been looking forward to Cassie being around other hives and not having to hide for once. But he’d insisted. “You can always go back to the ship.”

“I’m not leaving someone with no self-preservation instincts alone in a city full of hives now that they can start recruiting outsiders.”

Sweethive’s patience snapped. Silas’s grip on the cold drink he’d just bought from a street vendor a few miles from Gemar’s largest public stage tightened. He had been close enough to make the journey in time and Sweethive figured if they were reconnecting with Exohive then the more the merrier. He lifted Cassie’s hand to Alex’s ear and roughly pulled him close enough to hear him whisper. “Shut the hell up before you get yourself kicked out. If you start shit here I’m not going to defend you.”

Alex pulled away, looking momentarily angry, then he deflated. “Yeah. I’m sorry, Cassie. I just start saying shit with no filter when I’m nervous. Not an excuse, I know, but I’ll try to keep a lid on it.”

“If you’re really sorry, I’m not who it should be directed at.” That was a lie, of course. But Alex didn’t know that. Cassie tried to quicken her pace to walk away but a sting of pain in her left knee slowed her down. She grumbled a curse.

“Cassie, whoa, slow down!” Alex sounded concerned. “You okay? Do you need your cane?”

“I need to be able to hold this camera with both hands. It’s an extremely expensive piece of equipment and I’m using it to document something that could end up in history books.” Carter said with Cassie’s voice. “This is worth a little pain.”

Alex had known Cassie long enough not to argue. Finally they reached the spot in front of the stage reserved for the media. Cassie scanned her temporary press badge and moved through the barrier, leaving Alex on the other side. He frowned at her.

“I’m fine. Go. Get some food, have fun, look at the pretty colors. Don’t stay where you don’t want to be because you’re worried about me for no reason. I’m an adult, I don’t need supervision to film a medal ceremony.”

Alex gave her a look but then sighed. “You’re right, Cassie, I should trust you. I’m gonna go back to the ship and see what ridiculous touristy shit they have at the refueling station gift shop.”

Cassie smiled. “Good luck.”

Alex smiled back and started walking away from the growing crowd.

Cassie’s shoulders relaxed. No more pretending for now.

“Your companion seems pretty grumpy for someone on leave from a ship,” someone behind Cassie said. She turned and saw a man with clear-framed glasses and faceted clear beads adorning his dreadlocks. The color of his badge identified him as a local reporter.

“He doesn’t do well with new things. His heart belongs to the past.”

“And how do you like new things?”

The smile on Cassie’s face was Silas’. “There’s nothing better.”

The man held out his hand. “Drew Findhive.”

There was only one reason a hive would introduce themselves in a casual context with a member name. Laughter from the collective left Cassie’s mouth. And Mel’s, startling a small bird from the feeder outside their open kitchen window. The rest of the members just smirked. Findhive looked confused. “You heard Alex call me Cassie, didn’t you?”

“Is that… not your name?”

“It is. My name is Cassie Sweethive.”

Findhive laughed too now. “Oh shit, we thought you were–”

“Some thrill-seeking quiet you could seduce with the mystery and exoticness of being a hive as long as you put me at ease with a singular name?” Carter commented.

“Okay, yeah, you caught us. So, your old-fashioned friend…”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Seriously?”

“It started as a bet between us and the ship’s captain. How long would it take the rest of the crew to realize? But then we got to know Alex. He’s fun to hang out with and a mostly good friend, but like you said, he’s old-fashioned.”

“Ah.”

The mood was dark, so Kara decided to lighten it. “Well, you weren’t entirely wrong about us. We do love a good thrill.”

“Really?” Findhive leaned in close. “And are you open to seduction?”

Cassie bit her lower lip. “We’re actually hoping to reconnect with Exo tonight if we can. But would you be terribly offended if we wanted to exchange information as a backup plan in case they’re too busy for old flames?”

“You know them?” Findhive’s eyes went wide.

“We haven’t talked in years, always had more actions in common than words, if you get me.” Silas explained.

“Hmm,” Findhive replied as they pressed a button on their wrist-screen. Cassie’s screen dinged with the incoming contact info and all of Sweethive smiled. “Would you be terribly offended if we say we hope they blow you off?” they said with a smile.

Then the stage lit up. Both hives snapped to attention, Sweet raising their camera and Find pulling out a screen and stylus to take notes with.

Earth’s ambassador to Gemar approached the podium, but Sweethive’s attention was fully captivated by the six members of Exohive walking up to the opposite side of the stage. Six was a lot for a hive, and one more than Exo had the last time Sweet saw them, but the addition seemed to prove lucky. Exo’s members had each dyed their hair a different color of the rainbow to match the light thrown by the stage’s many prisms. Silas laughed. Then Cassie’s eyes locked onto Rose Exohive. Orange was a good color on her. An amazing color. It made her look like she was on fire, which absolutely matched the impression given by Exo’s behavior. Carter reluctantly dragged Cassie’s eyes back to the camera screen to make sure the whole stage was still in focus.

The ambassador’s speech was short, which Sweethive was both appreciative of and irked by. They couldn’t help but think that if that medal were going to a quiet there would be a lot more fanfare. But still, the weight of the camera was making Cassie’s arms sore by the time the ambassador was handing the medal around Carlos’ neck. The ribbon was as bright red as his hair and his smile was wide and unapologetic.

Then there was a horribly loud crack. Silas, now at the back of the crowd, looked up so Cassie could keep filming.

All thoughts of getting more footage left Sweethive’s collective as Silas saw the crystal tower to the right of the stage start to fall. Cassie screamed for everyone onstage to take cover. Exohive looked up and began to scramble to the edge of the stage out of the crystal spire’s path. The ambassador ran stage right and threw himself off the edge. The heavy shimmering pole crashed into the stage without crushing anyone and for a second Sweethive thought the danger was gone. Then something backstage exploded.

#hive

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thequietmanno1 · 11 months

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Thelreads, MHA 272, Replies Part 2

1) “HOLY SHIT THANK GOD GRAN TORINO WAS PAYING ATTENTION, BECAUSE MIC WOULDN`T EVEN GOT A CHANCE TO TRY TO RUN AWAY

FUCK MAN THAT WAS TOO CLOSE”- No warning, no means to fight back, nothing to do but flee and cower before absolute power. This is not a fight, this is a slaughter, and it will not cease until there is nothing left to target. 2) “Now, whatever it was that was on those flasks is not important.

There is no need to store quirks for later use

The one to End it all doesn`t need those pointless things, he already has everything he needs.”-A point to differentiate AFO and Tomura. AFO would have tried to preserve the Quirks and the power they possessed whilst destroying the heroes, possibly holding back the more destructive powers he had, just because they would have been something he’d have wanted to possess. Tomura doesn’t care for potential power, only what he has and how much he needs to achieve his ambitions in combat presently. 3) “Now everyone that can fly, please help the person to your right not being disintegrated if you please “- He couldn’t fly, but Crust did his part to stop Aizawa being disintegrated, even to his personal detriment. 4) “ALSO FUCKINGHELL WHOGR ABBBED AIZAWA FUCK OFF LET MY MAN GO HENEEDS TO SEE HIS DAUGHTER”- The High-End was already being disintegrated by Decay, so there was no way it could be saved or dragged to safety. It just wanted to take somebody else down with it in its last moment, an act of pure spite against its enemies, but at least that meant Crust was able to make his last actions a heroic one. (MHA ch 261) 5) “And then next page it`s him lying dead on the ground.

Alright, he probably will survive this, but it would be hilariously dark if this was the case, I tell you that.”- Completely hilarious. Side-splitting, you could say, along with everything else about him splitting into pieces….

(MHA ch 261)

6) “Alright, maybe the Nomu does know his name. Sue me. It won`t change a fact, his name is now set in stone in my brain, I will never recall what`s supposed to be his actual name.”- I wonder if this got it stuck in there… (MHA ch 262) 7) “okay, so it can expand apparently. And that guy there- what was his name again- Crush? Crust. I like Crush better, makes it a possible foreshadowing of what fate he shall have- anyway, Crush there is holding him back, which might be how he will end up getting his name after all.”- I think ‘Crumble’ suits him better now. (MHA ch 262) 8) “Now the true question is how strong those shields actually are, because they need to be able to keep a powerhouse like this from crushing all of you. Considering your rank, I hope the power of your quirk also be quite high.”- His shields are apparently very strong, but unfortunately, Tomurra’s Decay is a flat-out gamebreaker move. Strength, speed and defences all mean nothing against his ability to return everything to the void as fine particles so long as a single piece of contact is made to continue the spread. (MHA ch 262) 9) “Don`t talk like that about yourself already Crush, you still have so many more panels before you go! Don`t cry, I`m pretty sure your death will be quick and painless, the Nomu will make sure you die before you`re as flat as a pancake.”- Quick, yes. Painless?... depends how much pain you can feel when your entire nervous system is disintegrating into dust. 10) “MIC THIS MOTHERFUCKER IS ABOUT TO START MONOLOGUING, JUST LET HIM GO, HE WANTS TO BE ONE WITH HIS MASTER

LET HIM TASTE THE RUIN HE HELPED BRING FORTH”- His role is now done, and all he can do it enjoy the ride wherever it takes him…but he’s certain that the destination won’t be a good one for the heroes, and that thought gives him so much joy. I honestly wonder if heroes did something to him in the past personally, because he seems to loathe them all equally almost as viscerally as Dabi, and if that all stems from AFO’s animosity with them and his immense loyalty to his master, then he’s clearly fanatically insane as well as being a mad scientist in general. 11) “YEP, THERE GOES THE HOSPITAL. HOPE EVERYONE GOT OUT IN TIME”- The civilians had a chance to maybe get some distance, but the heroes? Most defiantly not.

(MHA ch 269) 12) “Oh, hey endeavor, it`s nice seeing you after that meeting 3-5 years prior. Tell me, did you ever killed pop or did you let Koichi do the honors? Well, it doesn`t matter, because jesus we`re gonna see some gory shit this chapter, won`t we?”- This chapter, this arc….the gore gets turned way up from this point forward. The villains ain’t playing nice, and neither is Horikoshi. (MHA ch 262)

13) “Alright, that might take a little while I suppose… Y`all we have at least more five minutes before Namek explode, we can start running right now and we might get far enough to have hope of surviving before the initial wave of decay hit us when he wakes up.”- You were pretty much right on the money. Distance was about the only thing that saved those few heroes around the hospital who couldn’t easily fly. 14) “OH PIXIEBOB, I DON`T KNOW IF THROWING THE EARTH BACK IS GONNA STOP IT. THIS DECAY IS FAR MORE POWERFUL THAN IT EVER WAS

I FEAR IT MIGHT BE TOO LATE”- It might not stop it, but a thick barrier would give the Decay’s encroachment a slight delay that could be the difference between Life and Death for some…including possibly Pixiebob herself, if he’s trying to futily hold the life against the onrushing storm like that.

15) “HOLY CRAP. LAST TIME SHIGARAKI TOOK DOWN A FEW BLOCKS WITH HIS QUIRK

THIS TIME THE RANGE IS FAR BIGGER

I WORRY ABOUT HOW FAR IT CAN ACTUALLY GO

NOWHERE IS SAFE, THE END WALKS THE EARTH”- Last time, the limit that restrained him was the self-damage the Quirk did to him pushing it that hard. This time, that restriction is gone, so now we’ll all witnessing what happens when an unstoppable force just keeps going…. @thelreads

#bnha #thelreads #chapter replies #my hero academia #mha 272

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girlwithfish · 1 year

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What is splitting like for you ? I've seen my friend split on her bf and I always wanna help but idk how it works etc

for me i become very distrustful of the person im splitting on and any of the triggers i have that get activated or triggered can really cause me to go into defense mode and its just like a lot of extreme thinking and very balck and white in my mind. even when im aware i am splitting its like theres like 50 layers btwn like my logical rational brain and however i am acting and feeling and it is reallg hard to get out of even when i know i am splitting bc everything i feel becomes rhe reality even if it is really irrational or thinking in unhealthy extremes. it is hard to control and my bf says i actlike a different person bc it csn really cause u to lash out and act impulsively for perceived self preservation and protection and sometimes i go reallh crazy and cant stop yelling or freaking out or believing whatever i am feeling even if it isnf true or im thinking of it too extremely and blowing it up in my mind. the person u split on can become like the worst person to u in ur head bc of a trigger or something small that hurts u and u blow it up in ur mind to be the worst thing in the world and that the person is someone trying to hurt you and doesnt love you etc. it feels like the end of the world sometimes and like i have no control over how i am acting and reacting bc ur in such a defensive shut down mode or just really panicked and believing whatever is in ur head that cane from a thing that maybe another person wouldnt react so extremely to or come to the same extreme conclusions. i get really angry and act in ways to self preserve bc i believe the other person doesnt love me and i need to protecf myself so i say thinfs i dont mean and act out a lot. i would say to try to do paced breathing and look up TIPP skills and dbt things on emotional regulation and distress tolerance. try to regulate the nervous system by doing paced breathing and using an ice pack to calm down and also trying to do the opposite of ur impulses if ur friend is impulsive or does or says things she doesnt mean to. trying to pjt together like a notes app thing w screenshots of skills for regulation nd stuff to tell myself when i split like reasons i love my bf and things that i know when im fine but forget entirely when im splitting helps and affirming things like hes here to help u etc reminders to be mindful and also she should try to write out her triggers or identify them if she hasnt to try to maybe work around them w her bf and learn to have healthier reactions

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thislifeismine-startingwithme · 1 month

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There was glitter in the carpet. The carpets have been vacuumed a million times, and there’s still glitter in the carpet. Some days it feels like I struggle to be heard without you shutting me down. Some days I struggle to listen. Everyday it feels like “will you just listen to me for once?” But here we are. Diggin through the mud to find the gold. I want the sparkle and I want the tingles and I want the excitement. How do you find the excitement after 8 years? How do find the sparkles and the tingles? I know you’re uncomfortable in your skin. I know that’s why I can’t touch you in the ways I want to. The lack of physical intimacy makes the emotional intimacy harder to find. I don’t know what you need. I know my brain is so frustrating for you on an every day basis. I know it is absolutely exhausting having to constantly tell someone what you need from them. I know it’s exhausting. If you need to be cuddled, I need you to tell me. There’s been such a long period of time where me touching you at ALL has sent your entire nervous system in to a panic (from my perspective) that I feel like I need explicit consent just to hold you hand. Most days hugs are okay. You still kiss me at bedtime and when you leave the house, so that’s promising. I’m scared to be too much or to ask for too much. I just need at least a long, passionate kiss. That kind of kiss that makes the hairs on your arms stand up. That kind of kiss that makes me feel like there is something other than just routine. I feel like we’re stuck in a routine. Are you bored? Am I boring? Holy shit. I AM BORING. 😂 I’m almost 30, my mental health is better than it’s ever been, so my sense of self preservation is very overbearing. 🤣 I might not be having panic attacks anymore BUT NOW I’M ACTUALLY SCARED TO DIE. This is an obnoxious realization. Maybe I need to make you a little uncomfortable every once in a while. Do you even know anymore that I WANT to touch you? Do you even know that I WANT you to touch me? Do you know how much I want to be with you? We talked a few times about me having another partner, mostly for me to satisfy any urges. Do you know that I haven’t been able to find anyone because I’ve been comparing everyone to you?? And just the thought of someone touching me that you haven’t met, and haven’t judged their character, and haven’t told me if their a good or a bad person, makes it IMPOSSIBLE to trust myself and even think of simply having lunch with someone to be able to make that decision on my own. I DO listen to you, and I DO trust your judgement . I do wish that sometimes you would trust my judgement though. Trust that just because I asked your opinion on something doesn’t mean that i never took it in to consideration or changed how I originally planned on doing something when I finally did whatever thing it was. I love you. I love all of you. I love your brain, you are so analytical even sometimes to a fault. I love the way your eyes light up when I LOUDLY sing, it’s my one and only party trick. I love your shoulders, like GOD DAMN babe. I don’t know what it is about your shoulders and biceps but 🤤🤤🤤 they kill me. I love it when you smack my ass when you walk by, no matter how annoyed I sound in the moment. I love how soft your lips are. Sometimes my brain plays little videos of you kissing me when I got home from boot, I can almost feel the love and the need and the warmth. I love when you let me scruff your beard, even though I’m sure it’s annoying. I love you. Forever and always. 😘😘😘 Maybe we can do that thing we did one of the last times and sit with you behind me and me sitting between your legs and we’re can talk for what feels like hours. I feel like I need that.

Well. That turned in to an ENTIRE book. I’ll tag you, but I have no idea if you’ll ever see this. @savannahsquaresstarrynights

PS, I think it’s time to update your picture and your header.

#can there be glitter in the carpet?#yes please #i love you #man crush forever #forever and always #i can’t sleep #thank you for listening #midnight ramblings

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darkobssessions · 1 year

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Dear world,

"What will it take for you to listen?"

Why is mental health so stigmatised? Why are we not talking about it more publicly?

Why is it that we have always struggled in silence and secret? What is it with this world that we just cannot crack? Are we destined to be shunned and abused, misunderstood and left out, blamed and scapegoated, lost and found, made assumptions of and not believed, named and then abandoned?

Why do we hide the central aspects of what make our lives our lives and who we are?

What about the things that affect who we are, which we cannot control and never asked for?

What about the memories we don't want, the experiences we feel torn apart by, the friends we lose?

The broken promises we make ourselves and others, the tears, the fights, the challenges most of all challenges that plague our existence, along with limitations.

We are flame driven arrows sharpened to perfection, golden glistening. We may invariably point that at ourselves or destructively in the world, we may snap and relapse, enter into a higher or lower state that we were last in, and possibly rewrite whole swathes of our lives and function from that place from that point onwards as if we had torched who we were just an hour ago, that is exactly what is happening. We become who we need to be in order to survive.

We are experts at laying complete waste to our lives. If we must, we can again quite swiftly demonstrate because after having lived it we also know what does and what does not in fact destroy you quite fast enough, or might rather bore you actually.

I am a mix between a cynical british man and a subsaharan bush fire wild instinct desert fox first bloom torrential rain sand tornadoes cliff faces crimson sunsets stars as far as the eyes can see healing trees on every horizon a nature preserve a national treasure a tourist destination a money making activity a space filler for someone next door, who by the way, does in fact own guns. I've lost the point of my why. It's not not my why anymore it's just too overwhelming and I can't cope with how urgent and dire this circumstance is which I rember when confronted with pretty much anything in my circumstance. My very new living circumstance. Stress. Alienation. Disability. Mental illness. Autism. Masking. Financial dependence on an abusive family. A pervasive fear of failure. A dark cloud that holds me captive and will not allow me to work, contribute or survive in this world. These things and stressors in new environments (or just the life we live, which is very stressful, which is fueled by stress, and glorified in stress, and expected of us, and shunned and suppressed when it is expressed openly) are experiences that send shock waves through my entire nervous system and shake and rattle and drench me in the cycles and tendencies that do not stop going once they are set into motion, wether that is up or down.

I will climb as high as I can get or I will sink and sink and sink and sink and keep going as if gravity doesn't mean anything to me other than a fun ride I slurp up and ask for th'e next one. I am wondering why we dont talk about mental health as much as we need to because how it's going with me is I am having various of my episodes due to different stressful components of my move and my environment, my sister has tried to make space and - I'm in shock tatters from that one. She said she didn't know who I was in unmasking and that she gave a knowing look to a server over ordering a drink, because I guess what ordered a drink in a basic polite way and apprently (according to my sister) this offended the barista and she shut down from that point onwards and just took the rest of the order. So my sister felt the need to impart to the barista that yes she knew and she was very sorry for my appalling offense. The offense of being me, of being direct, of being perceived in any way that is different to the norm, a difference in expression, movement thought, behaviour, idea or ideal, needs and challenges. These people exist these people are real, I am these people. I have been around an amazing community of them since my time started here on tumblr in 2013. I am pretty certain of the bonds and the ties and the darknesses and the strengths that make us human and that a huge if not majority percentage of people on this platform are experiencing something dark and real that so few dare approach on other platforms, at least not this way. And the fact that we can be anonymous on here helps, the fact that we need not show this to an employer. We are still scared sick, scared -> sick

But we are milions strong and in that number I feel solidarity because my daily life is one of acute loneliness. I wish to forge a way out of this loneliness and experience the sea beyond. I believe that me and others like me deserve the light of day, or the freedm to truly live in our nights because we are incapable of engaging with the world in its normal hours or have to undergoe great personal and physiological stress to engage with, or take pharmaceuticals in order to participate. We self medicate in a million and one ways, we have our own routines and systems to come with PTSD and quirks of our neurology. We know our way around our compulsions better than anyone, and when we say we cannot in fact get through the thing we are referring to, we mean it. This is your strong friend speaking up and saying, it is all getting a bit much to deal with, us saying this last bit of stress has become the one that might crack the resolve, part the veil, elevate symptoms, throw us over the edge, please, believe them. And I wish we had real things on hand other than numbers we can reach out to in crisis. Really what am I going to say? Am I really just going to sob out my entire irrational and uber rational existentialist spiel dread belief singular terror and life vision and past and manifesto right there on the call? I'm just going to tell them when I tell my boyfriend the whales are all dying and I feel it and I writhe and moan and shriek as if I am personally being shocked and hung on hooks? That meltdowns are dangerous and happen when I'm most stressed and being alone for that isn't safe? What would they say to that other than: you need to be admitted. Realy and seriously, honestly, don't lie to me. Tell me they wouldn't say, okay, you seem to really need some help there. And you said you are new here and want to try to live here? Okay, we're just going to- instutionalise you.

Is this paranoid ideation?

It's stuff like this that is real.

We want to be able to tell our friends and post on our timelines.

Saying hey, we're thinking this, does this check out or can you reflect something back to me that might help me assimilate this experience in the context of the whole, or remind me of something important about myself or my journey.

Hey, I am having a down day/time and I really can't bring myself to answer your messages and I feel really bad about the whole thing but the prospect of talking to you about it is making it much worse and the actual time I've spent talking to you or generally anyone has been unpleasant and I really don't feel myself or okay right now so kindly just nothing...it trails off at the end there because while I could start with the beginning you see I get stuck at the end. So I just say nothing.

Your 'strong' friend is silent because there is no easy way as of such, in this world, in most contexts, to transmit thoughts, feelings, experiences or needs outside of the norm. This world that we have constructed for ourselves (has been constructed through us? been constructed for us?) discourages that, it suppresses, takes advantage of, uses against us and punishes our divergence.

People look down on hardship and misery, look away from things that make them feel uncomfortable, and create comfortable delusions rapidly in order to preserve their quality of life at any given moment. We are all deeply, deeply talented at self denial. Basically, there is a wall up to present the best self and it feels like fewer and fewer places in which you can present your real self.

If we spoke up, would you listen?

When we say strong about ourselves we mean weathering the storm day in and day out, season to season, moment to moment, on the very edge of the wire. We are battling ferocious animals yipping and biting at us, gnawing upon us, great storms and battles, we are over and over again needlessly ceaselessy going up and down or just down down down or up up and up or, just down. There are an infinite number of patterns just as it is with nature. We have a pretty big concentration of these particular chemical balances, experiences, backgrounds, needs, desires and behaviours. Splitting at the speed of light. Regressing, repatterning, escalating, excavating, declining, deciding, torching, lying, running, stealing all the oxygen in the room like an explosion, tearing holes through furniture. We are the anthem of all the ones who survived and continue to survive, the euology of those that didn't make it and a promise to those that are struggling to hang on through sending out a lifeline and working to change the narrative for our children and future generations. That we will this vast community's presence to advocate for and change and think up clever ways like memberships and events where members of the community can share, collaborate, become empowered, and truly connect in a way that is beyond the mental illness trope in society, where we are at once so diametrically different to everything around us and also pressured to act a certain way about it, sugarcoat and overstress and perform ways around it, and keep it at arm's length, and definitely have consequences if we slip up.

We are just who we are, and we experience what we experience. There are many things that we cannot control or wish were not that way, there are very real challenges and issues in society that changing could really help. We deserve community, friendship, support, recognition, and opportunities to live a fulfilling life. I think we are tuning in the UN decalaration about human rights. Our human rights are being abused and shattered every day in a society where we are penalised for the disabilities, pressured to do or die, left alone to starve if we do not and a whole lot of other nasty things that every person who has struggles with mental illness will have at some point experienced in their lives. These are very close and intimate things, and very sparse woods out there, for shelter, nourishment or belonging. We most disporportionately struggle with homelessness, poverty, and displacement. Homelessness, poverty and discplacement can create us or trigger us, express us from within someone's genotype like waking a sleeping giant. We are the friends and colleagues that walk away or end friendships, act impulsively, and disappear.

We go quiet, zone out, check out and leave, because we just know how it is. We have been here before, time and time again.

There is nowhere that we feel like we belong, until we find those places or people or they find us. Systems can help us but they have to be built in an extremely personalised and understanding way, preferably by other wise and caring individuals that have experienced this themselves.

From a very dark time in my life right now, I say directly to all my friends and followers that the best way you can support me right now is monetary. You can send me a gift to share your appreciation or thought of me, and help keep me going and to help me take care of myself and navigate this crisis. In a two birds one stone approach, you can also opt in for my private group and patreon membership where I can connect with other humans and cultivate my inner circle.

Boost my mood here -> paypal.me/yazodah

Join my membership by clicking here and select the I See Me group membership tier.

In the group we will go over the overall system-

What works for us, what doesn't, how to combine features, how to go deeper, how to navigate challenges, how to come back from damage, how to make magic again, how to sustain ourselves and our lifestyles, and how to become empowered and empower others to do the same.

Join the neurodivergent den for $9 per month, stay as little or as long as you like. For $108 spread out over the year you can support a neurodivergent creator and experience first hand for an absolute premium my signature program and process that has worked wonders objectively on my experience. There is community, there are resources, insights, courses, content and owning of our fractured experiences and coming together within and without to not only make sense of it all mentally and emotionally, but to also energetically and emotionally untie those knots, and bring phsyical change to the lives we are living every day.

In the ultimate pursuit of building a new world we can stand to be in.

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-Dark Obsessions

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baconcare19 · 2 years

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I Don't Want To Spend This Much Time On Massage. How About You?

Many research show yoga lowers the resting coronary heart rate, will increase endurance, and might improve the maximum uptake and utilization of oxygen throughout train. The entire family can get in on the app subscription, which affords workouts throughout cardio, targeted strength coaching, yoga and more. For stress alleviation, massage can decrease anxiety, create extra energy, enhance focus, lower coronary heart rate and blood stress, and cut back fatigue. In abstract, stress has a detrimental impact on the immune system and extended publicity will increase susceptibility to illness and results in bodily and psychological well being issues akin to anxiety and depression. The nozzles join by tubes to an electric pump, and a heating and cooling system. Instead of condemning the unknown leaker for doing historic damage to our nation's system of checks and balances, he boasted that he has been holding conservatives off the court docket for many years, an odd however frank acknowledgment that he has lengthy trivialized the integrity of the court docket. The Biden administration has lengthy considered the court docket system as a toy, not a fragile instrument preserving our freedoms.

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Neophyte - Gojo Satoru

I shall feed you lol and here is the post they’re talking about, in case anyone would like context

Content warning: dumb inexperienced reader, age gap, almost exclusive usage of ‘little girl’ (reader still 18+ of course lads), uh losing virginity, spitting as well...oh and squirting too

Two weeks. That’s how long they said they’d be gone for, and although you were old enough to be on your own, your parents insisted on getting you a babysitter.

“Bye you two! We’ll call when we make it to the hotel!” Your mother shouted from the backseat of the car.

“Make sure (Y/N) doesn’t stay up too late, her sleep schedule is already bad as it is!” Your father added, loading up the bags in the back of the taxi. He chuckled when you groaned, and he sat in the car.

“Bye!” Waving goodbye, you watched them speed off into the evening sky, the sunset painting a pretty picture for their departure.

“Alright, first order of business: ordering some food!” Gojo announced, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking to the front door. “What do you want, (Y/N)? I’m feeling like having pizza.”

“Pizza is fine.” Trailing after him, you tried not to let your gaze settle on him for too long. You didn’t hate having Gojo staying over, it was quite the opposite. You wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his crazy hair and have him kiss you senseless and there were plenty of nights you lied awake thinking about him with an ache between your legs, and it would only get worse as the days went by.

“Here’s to our first night together!” Gojo cheered, clinking his beer can against your soda. Leaning back in his chair, he took a massive bite of his pizza, making you laugh at how his cheeks puffed out. Your eyes wandered down to his beer, and you suddenly had a question.

“Gojo, can I try your beer?”

“Hm? You sure?” Lifting up the can with the edges of his fingers, he turned it over in his hand. “Why would a little girl want to try something like this?” A subtle heat rose to your cheeks, getting warmer when his eyes looked at yours.

“I’m just curious. Please?” Stretching your hand out, Gojo lets you take the can from him.

“Alright, but not too much.” He warned. Leaning back in his chair, a smirk spread across his face. The smell wafting up from the can was enough to give you pause, but you tipped your head back and drank anyway.

“Ew!” Curling your lip away as soon as the taste coated your tongue, you held it out for Gojo to take back. His laughter filled the air, getting even louder watching you chug your soda to rid yourself of the taste.

“Not your favorite?” He chuckles, taking a sip.

“No.” Shaking your head, a shiver rips through you. “How can you like that stuff?”

“When you’re a grown up, you’ll understand.”

“But I am grown up.” Gojo ignores your statement with another chuckle and a bite of his food.

Once dinner is over, it’s time for a movie. It’s Gojos idea, he wants you two to get comfortable with each other, after all he will be staying in your guest bedroom. He even went out for a quick run to the convenience store to grab you ice cream and a few treats to eat. Letting you pick the movie, he lounges on the end of the couch in a pair of breezy shorts, legs stretched out far and another beer in his hand.

Quietly eating the snacks he gave you, you keep your body curled up on the other end of the couch. You’d both changed into more comfortable clothing, and while you were fully clothed, it made a strange feeling bubble inside you to wear such short shorts near him. You had no problem wearing these shorts around friends, but with Gojo it felt different.

“I’ve never seen this before.” He comments offhandedly, swaying his leg side to side as the opening credits roll. “What’s it about?” He glances over at you and for a moment you think he’s staring at your bare legs, but then he’s making eye contact with you.

“Uhm…” Biting your lip, a wave of bashfulness goes over you. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

“Ah.” Nodding like he understands, he returns his attention to the screen. Your fingers twitch, wanting to grab the remote and change it to something more highbrow. Something that a grown up like Gojo would enjoy.

As the movie goes on, you’re painfully aware of every line that’s said. Usually, this film can make your heart race with how romantic it usually is, but now it’s just making you cringe. Taking a look at Gojo, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Woah, pretty steamy.” He chuckles at a scene, and you rip your eyes away to see what he means. Two characters are passionately kissing on screen, their hands gripping each other's clothing so roughly it looks like they might tear.

“We can fast forward.” As heat rises to your cheeks, you reach for the remote.

“No, it’s okay.” Grabbing your wrist to stop you, Gojo shrugs. “I don’t mind.” The feeling of his fingers wrapped around you lingers long after he’s let go. Watching the same hand go back to resting on his lap, the tips of his fingers just barely touching his thighs, makes more heat come to your face.

As the story progresses, you try to forget about the scene entirely. You’re able to let your body relax, even stretch out your legs onto the portion of the couch that’s been left unoccupied. There are a few more kissing scenes and they all make you nervous and bring your eyes to Gojos face to watch his reaction.

“I can feel you staring.” Gojo grins like a fool and turns to you, catching you right in the act.

“S-sorry.” Hiding him from view with your hand, you stare at the floor and try to push down the shame at being caught. Gojo laughs, an easy sound aided by the alcohol in his system, and his hand comes down to graze the top of your foot.

“What’s in that head of yours, little girl?” His hand firmly grabs your ankle, playfully pushing your leg side to side as he waits for an answer.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.” He immediately counters, and the hand on your ankle tugs at you. “Let’s see, you only look at me when there’s kissing…” Putting more weight into his grip, he lets out a hum. “Are you trying to tell me you want a kiss?”

“No!” Gasping loudly, your head snaps to attention and instantly you regret it from the way a smirk seems permanently placed on Gojos face. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as you try to curl away from him.

“Sheesh, way to make me feel special.” Lightly scratching your leg, Gojo puffs out his chest a little. “I’ll have you know plenty of people have said I’m a great kisser.” A devilish look overtakes his face, a new thought having popped into his head. “I bet you haven’t even had your first kiss, huh?”

The noise you let out is stupid and unintelligible, and it tells Gojo all he has to know. The hand on your ankle goes a little higher to grab your shin and this time when he tugs at you, your body moves slightly.

“So what if I haven’t?” You try to save whatever dignity you have left by forcing your voice to be stern, but with a slight underlying waver it gives you away. When you make eye contact with Gojo now, you see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and a look in his eyes that brings that ache back between your legs.

“How about we change that then?” He poses his words like a question but there’s not even the illusion of a choice presented. He sits up a little straighter in his seat, the shorts on his thighs riding up just a bit, and pulls on your leg again.

“I…” The tips of your fingers are tingling, nerves firing off at every possible point as you follow his lead. Sitting up on your knees, Gojo is quick to shuffle you over to him. His hands on your hips help steady you as you settle across his lap, and they quickly wrap your arms around his neck when he senses hesitation from you.

“Just let me do all the work, okay?” He whispers, voice just loud enough over the movie still playing in the back. His hand spreads across your lower back, pushing you closer to the apex of his legs. With a hand on the back of your head, he pulls you down to meet his lips.

Kissing Gojo was just as good as you imagined it to be. His mouth fit perfectly against yours, sliding on your skin and making your eyes fall shut. A soft groan leaves your mouth the longer he’s pressed against you, and your fingers weave into his hair. It’s unclear how long this simple lip lock lasts until you become hungry for more.

Carefully, your lips part. There’s a part of your brain that’s screaming out about your lack of experience, desperate to preserve your dignity and not make a fool of yourself. Pushing past that, the tip of your tongue presses against Gojos closed mouth.

“I thought I said to let me do the work.” Pulling away from you, Gojo clicks his tongue. “Such an eager little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Keeping your eyes closed, you nod breathlessly. Shifting on his lap, you fully seat yourself onto him. With your ass pressing onto his legs, you can feel something hard and hot just out of reach in his pants.

With a chuckle Gojo kisses you again. Readjusting his grip on your head, he tilts it to the side and opens his mouth. He doesn’t need to do much more besides that and your mouth is already open. His tongue slides into your mouth at the same time his hand grabs your ass, and you moan because of both of them.

Instinct takes over any thoughts in your brain, all the worry and doubts you had dashed away. On shaky legs, you rut your hips forward onto Gojo, the friction catching on your clit. His tongue has barely made a home for itself in your mouth, and here you are humping him.

Letting go of your head, both hands clamp down on your ass. He forces you to slow down to an almost complete stop and he swallows the whine that comes out of your throat. Securing his feet onto the floor, Gojo gently pushes his hips up while he rocks you forward, and the noise you let out is one he will never forget.

The pace he sets is agonizingly slow, nothing like the one you’d had. Every brush of your body against his has your skin erupting in goosebumps and heat flashes across your body. Fingers tug his hair harder when the grip on your ass gets tighter, and you nearly throw yourself onto him more than you already have.

You don’t even realize the tiny little whimpers coming out of your mouth in a steady rhythm until they turn to wanton moans, a clunky sound you’re unsure about but make all the same. Gojo makes sound too, a deep grumble in his chest that manages to outdo you.

Time is lost with your lips against his. The movie that’s playing has long been forgotten, playing to an audience of no one. It’s soundtrack is a distant entity, muffled by the ringing in your ears and the heat accumulating between your bodies.

“G-gojo.” You pull back with a face hot as fire and eyes closed softly. A plea is on the tip of your tongue, and although you don’t know what you want, you’re ready to beg for it all the same. Gojo chases your lips, capturing them again for another searing kiss that makes you feel drunk.

He hums when he finally sets you free, the cool air from his nose fanning over your face. Forcing his body to relax, Gojo lets go of your ass and drops his hands to his sides. Letting his head fall back onto the couch, he blinks owlishly at the ceiling.

“Would you look at the time, it’s past your bedtime.”

“What?” Turning to look at the clock on the wall, your blood runs cold when you see what time it is. Grabbing his limp hands, you try to put them back on your body. “No, no forget about that.”

“I can’t. Little girls need to go to sleep when it’s time.” Gojo is fighting back a vicious smirk, forcing his face to remain as neutral as he can.

“Gojo, no!” You cry, bouncing on his lap like a child. His body remains limp as you attempt to engage him in another kiss, and frustrated tears rise in your eyes. “C’mon!” Your eyes flicker between his and you nearly throw yourself off his lap. “This isn’t fair!”

“Throwing a tantrum? I thought you were more mature than that.” Standing up and stretching his impossibly long limbs, Gojo clicked his tongue and flicked the TV off.

“Whatever.” Head clouded with lust and pent up frustration, you stormed out of the room much to Gojos pleasure. He followed after you slowly, stopping in the hallway when you get to your door.

“I don’t get a kiss goodnight?” He teases, and if looks could kill he’d be dead by now. The pout on your lip is almost negated by your puffy eyes straining to hold back tears. Laughing under his breath he walks up to you and pats your head. “Sleep well, little girl.”

“Yeah.” Nodding your head, you close your door and all but fall into bed. Your whole body is tense and unable to relax, the throbbing between your legs too much to ignore. Stripping down and crawling defeatedly under the blankets, you stare up at the dark ceiling.

Curling your fist, you punch the bed twice before shoving a hand between your legs. Your cunt is soaked all from a little bit of kissing, and in any other circumstance you’d be embarrassed. But this time, the only thing you could feel was an indescribable need to touch yourself.

Biting your lip hard between your teeth, your legs spread a little to accommodate the new arrival. There’s slick coating your skin, making everything a sticky mess. Inexperienced fingers press against your swollen clit and you gasp loudly.

“Shit.” A whine leaves your throat at the first touch, and your fingers rub clumsily along yourself. Pushing your head back against the pillows you try to recreate the feeling of grinding on Gojos lap. Every so often that spark hits you, but it’s not enough to get off to.

Slowly, you push a finger inside yourself, and then two. With a strain in your wrist you know you’ll feel tomorrow, you thrust your fingers in and out of your cunt. The wet clicking sound of your fingers is unmissable and you're quickly brought to a messy, uncoordinated orgasm.

“Shit.” You swear again, finally able to relax your body. Wiping your fingers on your blankets, you toss and turn to get into a comfortable position. The orgasm you had brought you some reprieve, but in the back of your mind you know it would have been better if Gojo had done it.

Waking up in the morning with the mess between your legs makes a wave of second hand embarrassment wash over you. Dressing quickly, it’s both a relief and a disappointment that Gojo has work during the day, early enough that you don’t see him in the morning.

Eating breakfast and lunch alone, there’s still a feeling in your body that won’t dissipate. The ache between your legs isn’t as strong as last night, but it’s still there, sitting in your body and ruining your underwear.

Your eyes keep staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until Gojo returns. There were other things you could have been doing, things that were more productive with your time, but every time you tried to move on it was impossible to focus and you found yourself back in the same spot.

When Gojo was nearly home, you sprung into action with a half baked plan. He’d texted you asking if you wanted takeout again or a home cooked meal, and you replied immediately that you would be cooking dinner. The only incentive you had to cook was to show him how responsible you were, and to make up for your show of emotions last night.

“(Y/N), I’m home!” Gojo announced as he opened the door. Toeing his shoes off, he waited for an answer or for you to appear before him, but he was left alone in the entryway. Walking past the lounge room, you weren’t there, and he was surprised to find you in the kitchen.

“Hi.” Giving him a quick wave, you kept your attention on the stove. His gaze lingered on you, a half smile on his face, but Gojo said nothing and left the room. You could hear him moving around the house, going to his room and changing into casual clothes and using the toilet before returning to you.

“So, what’re you making?” Standing close to you on the stove, he leaned over your body. His head brushed your temple and your breath hitched.

“J-just something easy.” You squeaked, painfully aware of how his hands settled onto the counters, trapping you against the stove and his body. He hummed but made no other response, and you just stood there together.

“Ya know, it’s kinda like you’re my little housewife, cooking for me after a long day of work.” His comment made you gasp. A million different scenarios ran through your head, all of them where you really were his wife in a house you shared together.

Keeping your lips pressed together to spare the sanity you had left, you nodded as a response. Gojo chuckled and got closer, placing his hands on your hips. Jumping when you felt his nose brush against your neck, you couldn’t move a muscle to question him.

“Having you as a housewife doesn’t sound too bad, now that I think about it.” His breath was loud in your ear, and so was the kiss he planted behind it. His teeth scraped against your neck, and he sucked lightly on your skin before letting you go. “Looks like it’s almost ready. I’ll go set the table.”

As soon as Gojo untangled himself from you, you let out a staggered sigh. With shaky fingers you turned the stove off and took the food off the heat, your eyes glued to the pan so he wouldn’t see your mortified face. Bringing the food to the table quickly, you stared at the table as you ate.

“So, do you like it?” You asked when he was more than halfway done.

“I do.” Propping his elbow on the table, Gojo flashed you a big smile. “I love whatever my little housewife makes for me.” Slapping a hand over your face in embarrassment, you sunk into your chair when he let out a laugh at your expense.

When dinner was over, Gojo insisted on helping you clean up. Rolling up his sleeves and pressing his body right against your back, he promised to do a good job washing the dishes, but he kept grabbing your hand and tangling your fingers together. By the time you finished, nearly an hour had passed and the ache between your legs was killing you.

“Come sit and watch the game with me.” He mumbled, grabbing a beer from the fridge and going to the lounge room.

“What game?” You followed him obediently, standing next to the couch as he took a seat.

“Baseball. I placed a few bets on tonight's game and I wanna win.” Cracking open the can, he took a long drink. “Come sit down.” Spreading his legs, he pat his thigh loudly.

“Okay.” Hesitantly climbing onto his lap, your hands gripped his arm as he pulled you flush against him. Gojos' chin rest on your shoulder, making you lay on his chest and feel every time he drew a breath.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He whispers once a commercial hits.

“R-really?”

“Mhmm.” The arm around your middle tightens up. “Been thinking about kissing those pretty lips of yours.” You tried to turn your head to look at him, but he wouldn’t budge. Squirming in his lip made him groan, the vibrations traveling across your back. “What’re you doing, little girl?”

“I wanna kiss you.” At your admittance, Gojo lets you go and helps you turn around in his lap. The position is a familiar one, and your ass nestles against his thighs. Going in for a kiss, your brows furrow when he dodges your lips.

“Once there’s a pause in the game I’ll kiss you.” He says off-handedly, pushing your face out of the way.

“But-”

“Shh.” With a pinch to your ass, Gojo shuts down any protest. The same frustration you felt last night was coming back, coupled with annoyance at being ignored. You tried again to kiss Gojo, but he dodged you again.

“Fine.” Pinching him back, you practically collapsed in his lap. Watching the game over your shoulder, you truly couldn’t care less about it, but you needed to know the second there was a break.

But it seemed like there would never be one. Even when a commercial came, Gojo would keep your head pressed against his chest, stopping you from doing anything other than trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Gojo!” You cried, growing frantic. “Stop being mean!”

“Mean? I would never be mean to you.” He gasped dramatically. Letting you sit up, the smirk he had on his face had your fingers itching to slap him. Grabbing your chin, he pursed your lips and finally kissed you.

The taste of the beer on his tongue was something you could ignore when it entered your mouth. Getting what you wanted at last was the only thing on your mind. Your hands found their spot in his hair again, and you kept him pressed to you even when he tried to pull away.

“Someone’s needy, huh?” Gojo chuckled, finally able to break free and breathe.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day too.” The words fell out of your mouth before you had the chance to think.

“Oh, really?” Gojo quirked a brow. Resting his head in his hand, he licked his lips. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking then.”

“Uhm…” Suddenly feeling shy, you look down at his lap. You can see the outline of his cock straining against his pants and it makes you lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you and-” A quick glance up makes your face flush with heat. “And about how you make me feel.”

“How’s that?” He presses, sliding a hand to your ass.

“I get all hot and sweaty, and that place starts to hurt.” Your hand does a vague gesture down to your crotch and it makes Gojo chuckle.

“That place? Do you mean your pussy?” Screwing your eyes closed at his question, you nod. Gojo lets out a little coo, his fingers affectionately squeezing your ass. “You poor baby, I bet it’s just a mess down there.”

“Yeah.” Spreading your legs further across his lap, you try to get comfortable with the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

“What a shame.” Gojo clicks his tongue, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you again. But then his eyes dart to the TV and his body tenses. “Oh shit, I think I might win this game!”

“Huh?” Blinking rapidly, you shift again on his lap and look over your shoulder. Whatever was happening had his full attention, and not even your kisses along his jawline can draw him back to you.

Gojo keeps you seated on his lap for the entirety of the game, every so often kissing you like you wanted, just enough to keep you from leaving but not enough to satisfy you. When the game is over, he repeats the process of yesterday and sends you to your room for your bedtime.

Waking up the next morning is a struggle after being blue balled for two days straight. It was like the release you’d given yourself the first night meant nothing because it wasn’t done by Gojo. Stumbling into the kitchen in a shirt and shorts, you bumped straight into Gojo.

“Hey sleepy head.” He ruffles your hair affectionately, his eyes quite obviously staring right at your ass skirted by the hem of your shorts.

“Hey.” Leaning your head against his chest, you give him a sleepy hug.

“Still tired?” Gojo feigns like he’s interested in whatever you have to say while his hands go under your shirt. The pads of his fingers press into your lower back for a moment before sliding up.

Leaning back a little, you move your arms out of the way for him to bring his hands to your front. His palms cup your breasts, just as hot as your flesh. Grazing your nipples with his thumbs, Gojo hums to himself and nods.

“Can I see?” Gojo asks, slowly tugging up your shirt.

“Yeah.” You nod. He folds up your shirt and pushes the fabric into your mouth, letting go when you bite down. Your fingers are holding up the rest of your shirt, and Gojo squeezes your arms together, making your breasts push together.

“What pretty tits you have.” Leaning down, Gojo presses a kiss to the center of your chest, and another atop both breasts. You’re quick to say a muffled thank you and Gojo kisses you again. His nose is pressed onto your chest and it’s all he can do to pull away and pull your shirt out of your mouth. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” You ask instead, blindly finding a seat at the dining table.

“I’m going in a little later today for a meeting.” Stepping up to the stove, Gojo sweeps his arm over the assorted ingredients he’s set out. “Now, do you want an omelette?”

When Gojo returns home the next few days after work, it’s either long after your bedtime or he’s too tired to do anything more than go to bed. He was caught up in meetings and late night work functions, leaving no time or energy to spend with you. When the weekend finally comes, you don’t even see him until the evening.

“Hey.” He opens his bedroom door the moment you open the bathroom door, a cloud of steam billowing out around you.

“H-hey.” Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, you grip the towel tighter to your body. His eyes flick down to your skin, slightly damp and smelling sweetly of your body wash. Your body moves on it’s own when he takes a step forward, pressing yourself against the doorframe.

“It’s been a while.” He’s in front of you in just a few short strides. Lithe fingers trace your neck, making you shiver as a tingle goes through you. His hand cups your face, turning it up to him. “I’ve missed you, little girl.”

Gojo kisses you before you have time to answer. What usually starts as a gentle kiss is far gone, replaced with a hunger behind his lips that leaves you trembling. His tongue slides into your mouth with ease, roaming all around your mouth while his teeth clink into yours.

Your thighs are spread apart by his knee shoving between them, and your fingers nearly drop the towel to grab onto him. His knee is pressed right against your cunt, grinding deliciously onto you.

“Gojo!” You gasp when he lets you free. Air rushes into your lungs and is expelled just as fast. His teeth sink into the side of your neck, sucking hard on the skin and lapping up any lingering water droplets. “Gojo, please, I-”

“I know.” He grunts, sucking on the junction of your neck and shoulder. A rough groan leaves his lips and his knee drops, replaced by the hard on straining against his pants. Rough hands rush to bundle up your towel around your hips.

“Fuck, look at you.” Gojo growls, his eyes staring directly at your cunt. “What a pretty little pussy.”

“Gojo!” Throwing your head back, you nearly sob his name when he ruts his hips into you. His hands are digging marks into your hips and thighs with every thrust, and if it weren’t for his body holding you up, you would have crumpled to the floor.

All the sensations are too much, mounting pleasure in your body that threatens to take over. One hand is mindlessly clutching the towel, needing something to ground you in the moment that’s quickly getting away from you.

“Shit.” After sucking a harsh mark into your skin, Gojo stops completely. He stands painfully still, his own orgasm nearly barreling over him. Wrenching his hands off your body, he fixes your towel and takes a tiny step back. Licking his lips, Gojo runs a hand through his hair.

“W-why’d you stop?” Looking up at him with wide eyes, your chest is heaving as you catch your breath.

“I don’t want to blow my load right now, that’d be kind of embarrassing don’t you think?”

“I guess.” At a loss for words, you watch helplessly as he takes another step back. The tent in his pants is painfully obvious. “So when? When can we…” Your eyes bounce around the room, skirting around the question.

“Soon, I promise.” Adjusting his pants, Gojo flicks his head to your bedroom. “Now go get dressed, wouldn’t want you to catch a cold standing out here.”

It’s nearly three days before Gojo kisses you again. He doesn’t kiss you, but he does everything else to you that he wants to do. Shoving you against the wall and fondling your ass before he leaves for work. Grabbing at your tits when you’re cooking or washing dishes. Making you perch your ass on his lap when he’s watching another baseball game, his fingers drawing patterns on your thighs.

“Gojo!” Finally, it’s your turn to corner him in the hallway. Blocking his way to the rest of the house, you cross your arms and fix him with your strongest glare.

“Yes?”

“I need you!” Stamping your foot, you know it looks childish, but you need to get your point across. Biting his lip, Gojo steps up to you, giving you a once over.

“Need me how?”

“You know how!” His question shakes your confidence a little, enough to make you break eye contact with him and look at the wall.

“I don’t think I do.” Rocking on his heels, Gojo shrugs dramatically.

“Like- like-” Dropping your arms, you do the only thing you know will work: you shove your hand onto his crotch, palming at his cock and making him jump. “Like this!”

“Woah, little girl.” He’s quick to grab your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away.

“Please!” The whine you’d been fighting back comes out, and it’s music to Gojos ears. “You always do stuff and it makes me feel funny and I really need you.” The frustration makes tears well in your eyes as you look up at him, and he pouts his lip at you.

“Oh poor baby.” Taking your hand away from him, Gojo turns to your room. “Let’s go then. Seems I’ve been playing with you too long.” Rushing to your room, you sit eagerly on the edge of your bed. “Lay down.” He gently pushes your shoulder back, and your head hits the pillow.

Climbing on top of you, Gojo nestles his body against yours and kisses you. Gripping his shoulders tightly, you pull him down harder. The drought he’d put you through had driven you crazy, causing you to dream about his lips on you.

His tongue slid into your mouth quickly, tangling with yours and knocking his teeth with yours. The tips of his fingers skirted around the edge of your shirt for just a moment before delving deeper. Sliding his hand under your bra, Gojo tweaked your nipple.

Making quick work of your shirt, Gojo sat on his heels and peeled his top off. Your eyes were glued to his body, catching every little twitch of his muscles and dip and curve of his chest. He chuckled at your mesmerized face and leant down, taking your nipple into his mouth.

Grabbing your other breast, Gojo worked both your nipples to full hardness, alternating on sucking them into his mouth. The moans that came from your mouth were music to his ears, and your hips blindly rutted against him.

Flicking your nipples with his tongue one last time, Gojo kissed down your chest. Reaching your bottoms, he didn’t need to tell you to lift your hips up, your hands were already pulling them off with him.

“Shit.” Gojo breathed, laying between your legs. Your inner thighs and cunt were covered in your slick, and the heady aroma had Gojo eager to stick his tongue inside you. Sliding his hands underneath your thighs, he set them on his shoulders.

Spreading your lips with his thumbs, Gojos tongue flicked your clit, making your hips nearly shoot off the bed. Your hands immediately wound into the sheets as he continued his ministrations.

“Gojo, please.” You cried, growing tired of the little flicks he was giving you.

“Be patient, baby.” He replied, quickly sucking your clit into his mouth. Your thighs tried to close around his head but his hold on your body was strong. Digging his hands into you, Gojo pulled your cunt closer to his mouth.

Shoving his tongue into you, Gojo lapped tirelessly at your gummy walls, loudly swallowing your essence mixed with his saliva. His nose rubbed your clit, relentless in his pursuit in tasting you. Muffled groans came from his mouth, the vibrations adding to the pleasure.

Pressing his thumb against your clit, he rubbed it furiously. Gojos eyes were screwed closed as he worked you to your first orgasm, his jaw beginning to ache from the force he put behind his tongue.

“Gojo-” Your body tensed up as the orgasm hit you. The fingers gripping the sheets threatened to tear them, your nails digging dangerously into the fabric. A loud, drawn out moan left you and your eyes rolled back.

“Fuck yes, baby.” Gojo wrenched your thighs open and sat up on his elbow. His thumb on your clit didn’t slow down, milking you through your orgasm. When your body relaxed, Gojo shoved his fingers into you, too worked up himself to worry about stretching you out properly.

The two fingers he had inside you stuffed you more than your own fingers ever could. Your walls stretched to fit around the long digits, clenching hard around him. His thumb pressed against your clit again and he began to move his fingers in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

The overstimulation from your first orgasm gave way to pleasure the more he fucked you on his fingers. Gojos palm slapped against your sex with every thrust, mixing with your moans and echoing around the room.

The second orgasm came much quicker than the first, and it was tinged with pain at the edge of your senses. Letting out a loud groan at the feeling of your walls milking his fingers, Gojo pulled out and sat back, roughly ripping his shorts off and exposing his leaking cock to the air.

“Think you can take my cock, baby?” He asked, gripping his cock hard at the base.

“Yes, please!”

“Good answer.” Grabbing your hands, he placed them under your thighs and pressed them to your chest. “Be a good girl and hold your legs for me.” Eager to please, you got a good hold on your thighs and waited.

Both of you stared at his cock lining up with your slit. Taking his time, Gojo pushed the tip past the tight ring of muscle and thrust softly, slowly working you to take his whole cock.

“How does it feel?” He asked, laughing breathlessly.

“Strange.” Your answer made him laugh more.

“Am I the first one to fuck this pretty pussy?”

“Yeah.” A wicked grin spreads across Gojos face and he leans between your legs to kiss your forehead.

“This old man sure feels special.”

“You’re not old!” You gasp, loosening your hold on your legs. “Not at all!”

“Legs, baby.” He taps your hands and you quickly right yourself. Pressing his hands into the pillow beneath your head, Gojo forces your legs to bend a little more. “I’m a dirty old man compared to you.”

“No-” You go to protest again, but the sharp snap of his hips into yours cuts you off. Your head immediately falls back, exposing the column of your throat for Gojo to lean forward and kiss. He pulls back again, making sure you feel the full length of his cock before snapping forward again.

Gojo thrusts into you with no mercy, lust clouding his senses and any reason in his head. Your walls are so tight, they almost grip him enough to stop him from pulling out again. He’s waited so long to feel you wrapped around him, and now that he has you he doesn’t want to waste a single second.

His heavy balls slap against your ass with each thrust, adding to the cacophony of sounds mixing together in your room. Your slick is being fucked out of you and dripping down between your ass and onto his balls, creating a damp spot beneath you.

“Such a good little girl.” Gojo pants, cupping your face with his hand. Swiping his thumb across your lower lip, he grins when you take it into your mouth and suck hard on it. “Taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.”

“Mhmm!” Nodding, you let go of one leg to hold onto his hand, lacing a few fingers together. Pressing his thumb against your tongue, Gojo pulled your mouth open and pursed his lips. Letting his saliva drip down into your mouth, he felt a swell of pride watching you swallow it immediately.

Your hand slid off your leg, the sweat accumulating on your body making you lose your grip. With your feet dangling near Gojos head, he pressed a quick kiss to your ankle before digging his hands underneath your ass and angling your hips up.

“Fuck!” You squeal loudly at the new angle and your hands scramble to push against Gojos hips. “T-too much!” Gojo barks out a laugh and swats your hands away, pining one to your side as he pounds into you.

“Shit, how’d you get even tighter, little girl? I can barely pull out.”

“Gojo, please!” Tears begin to gather on your lashes from the onslaught of pleasure, and you let out a short yelp at feeling his fingers against your puffy clit. “Please, please it’s- fuck-” Your head thrashed against the pillows, unable to run away from the feeling.

“Be good and squirt on my cock.” Gojo growled. He was close to cumming himself, your cunt that he’d denied himself for so long was just as good as he imagined it to be. It was all he could do to make sure you came before he filled you to the brim with his cum.

“Stop I’m gonna- Gojo- pee, I’m gonna-” You babbled mindlessly, tongue falling out of your mouth and making drool coat your chin. Seeing your fucked out face had Gojos racing heart pounding even harder.

Hunching over, he forced your legs to nearly touch your head as he rutted into you. Barely pulling his cock out all the way, Gojo worked your clit in his fingers and was rewarded with a high pitched moan, akin to a scream in his ear.

“Fuck-” He grunted. The force of your orgasm was nearly pushing his cock out all the way, your juices gushing around him. Sinking his teeth into your leg, Gojo came inside your spasming cunt, fucking his cum out with yours.

You were nearly sobbing by the time he fully stopped thrusting. Your body ached all over, muscles that had been pulled taut were finally being released and allowed to relax. Gojo slid your legs off his shoulders as he panted for breath.

Slowly pulling out of you, he stared at his softening cock absolutely covered in your release. His entire lower region was glistening in the light of the room and the wet spot on the bed was much bigger now.

Sliding out of the room quietly, he returned with a damp towel. Quickly wiping himself, he gingerly wiped down your sex, letting out little giggles when your body twitched uncontrollably. Setting the towel to the side, he smiled down at you.

“Hey little girl.” His grin turned into a full toothed smile at seeing your dazed face, drunk off his fuck and cum. A dopey smile spread across your face and you lifted a tired hand to grab at his. Giggling bashfully, you pressed your face into the pillow to get away from his stare.

“What?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heat as he continued to look at you.

“Nothing, just looking at my pretty girl.” Squeezing your hand, Gojos eyes glance at the wet spot on the bed. “Ya know, it’s almost your bedtime, and I can’t have you sleeping in a wet bed.” Humming like you were following along, you giggled again when his hand squeezed your waist.

“What?”

“Are you listening to me?” Gojo chuckled, squeezing you again and making you jump. “Come sleep in my room with me.”

“Okay.” Helping you stand, Gojo led you to his bedroom. Even though it was the guest room, it felt like he had always lived in this room. It smelled of him, and his clothes were everywhere. Flopping onto the bed, you yawned as soon as your head hit the pillow. “Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.” Gojo snorted loudly and nodded. Helping you under the covers, he slid on a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I’ll get you a snack. Try to stay awake.” You give him a lopsided thumbs up that makes him snort again. Turning on his heels, he knows as soon as he comes back, you’ll be passed out and snoring into his pillow. And he’s right.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Weird, “A Preoccupation with Death.”

Hope you enjoy :)

Analysis By Dr. Krill MD

Humanity’s preoccupation with death has always fascinated me: I say fascinated because to say that it disturbs me would be rather unscientific, and I have been attempting to reign in my anger… I have had some… complaints over the last year about the unprofessionalism of my previous papers. The GA community does not appreciate, and I quote, “Excessive swearing, and screaming” in virtual reports, so today I will attempt to be calm and relaxed as I explain to you, common human traditions based around death.

Now you must understand, from my perspective these practices are quite bizarre. Vrull have no rituals associated with death. The Vrull are disposed of and their bodies are incinerated. The ash is then disposed with by mixing into the soil to produce needed plants on the planet surface. There are no other options, and no other arrangements are made.

However, I am told that funeral rights with humans are, often, more to do with what the living need than what the deceased do. However, there are some funeral rights believed to be required in certain human cultures, so that rule does not always hold completely true.

I will begin from the moment of death.

Unlike the Vrull humans do not know their exact time of death. Granted this is not because the Vrull have a set clocking system in their bodies which sets the time in which we die, but because our society sets forth a time of our usefulness. No one knows how long a Vrull can feasibly live because no one has tried it before. I myself might plan on finding out, as I have no intention of returning for my scheduled termination, which is already a year overdue.

Humans, like most other species die in several different ways, accidents, sickness, or the sudden failure of the body due to old age, the final one generally happening peacefully and in their sleep.

However this is where humans tend to diverge from their inhuman counterparts, in that they are very social creatures, the death of a human is usually witnessed by multiple family members and friends, in the case of sickness, and is mourned many weeks after because the death of someone in your social circle changes that circle forever. Social bonds are cut and entire social lives are upended. Humans bond so heavily with each other that the loss of one of their own can lead to mental and emotional trauma extreme enough to require medication and hospitalization.

Humans plan their deaths months to years in advance. In certain instances, their jobs force them to plan their death in advance in case something were to happen. Decisions need to be made about who owns their property, where it goes, what happens to their dwellings, and how the surviving members of their family will be supported. Sometimes they plan this due to terminal illness which they knew will lead to their deaths, otherwise they might just do it out of precaution.

There are many different ways of disposing of a corpse. First of all, you must determine if any of the human parts are recyclable: this being the very morbid idea of taking someone else’s organs and giving them to another person. Now with the advancement of this technology, organ transplants from donors is not as common as it once was seeing as they can now 3D print organs. However, this method is not time effective and is very costly, in some cases leaving the harvesting of deceased human organs to be the only viable option.

Yes, they take organs from dead people… the doctor and surgeon in me admires that thought process, but the thinking breathing creature inside of me recoils heavily at the idea.

Assuming that no one requires your organs, or if you have especially requested for your organ not to be used than there are other questions that need to be addressed. There are humans who have jobs especially in the business of taking care of dead bodies. They are generally moved in special containers and placed in refrigerated units to slow decomposition while the relatives determine what they want to do with the body.

In certain cases, where the death is suspicious, as related to murder, there are, in fact, humans who specilize in determining the cause and time of death based on the decomposition rate of a body and the stiffness of the flesh itself. This is a semi-common practice across the galaxy, and I myself have performed one or two autopsies since my professional career began though they are far more common for humans.

I find that the most humane method of human enterrement, and the one that makes most sense to me as a Vrull is the idea of cremation. The body is taken and placed in a furnace that is then heated enough to turn the body to ash leaving only bone fragments and the occasional mineral deposit. The ash may then be given to the family members or disposed of accordingly. Some humans find it comforting to keep the remains in some sort of container.... A fact which I find morbid but, we have proven in abundance that I find much of what humanity does, rather morbid.

It is only going to get worse.

The other method of disposal, popular through human history, however made someone obscure in recent centuries due to the proliferation of human burial sites…. The common north american and European Burial and funeral rights went as follows. After death, and freezing in the morgue, a special human with the job of mortician is called in to prepared the body for burial…. This is where it gets very morbid.

The body is drained of all of its fluids and then pumped full of preservatives to slow down the process of decomposition. The faces are then painted with makeup to give the corpse the appearance of sleep rather than death. The body is dressed in fine clothing and placed inside a coffin or casket: these in themselves can cost thousands of dollars as the family members decide what materials the box should be made out of and lined with, precious metals, woods like oak or steel, and the inside lined in velvet satin or silk. The body is placed inside with the person dressed in a finely tailored suit before a hearse: a special vehicle designed to carry caskets is brought to the place of mourning, generally a curch or a funeral home.

Many times the body is then put through a “viewing”.... It sounds just as bad as I make it seem, when the humans come in…. In large groups…. To stare at their dead relative. Just…. Stare at their rotting corpse before it is hauled away and lowered into an six foot hole in the earth. A decorative rock is then place on top of that inscribed with the deceased’s name so that everyone knows where to find their moldering corpse….

….

I am told this provides a lot of closure for family members, though I have yet to understand why staring at a painted corpse would be helpful.’

Unfortunately, with humans, this isn't the most gruesome method they have of corpse disposal, nor the most involved

You may also chose to donate your body to science…

They might hand your bod over to a medical school, where aspiring doctors will, in groups, dissect your corpse slowly over an intervening few weeks or months. It is… gruesome, but a necessary part of the learning process. Your skeleton might even be recycled for use as a tool to demonstrate the skeletal structure to those very same students.

Perhaps your body will end up in a museum, where they will encase your nervous system in plaster and place it on a wall for school children and visiting day travelers to view.

Perhaps you might donate your body to…. A body farm. A palace where scientists will toss your corpse out into different elements to observe the rate and change of decomposition based on different dump sites. They will examine the decomposition, the moisture loss, and the bugs which take to eating your body. This research will then be used to determine the cause o death for other corpses disposed of by murderers or in similar fashion.

It is gruesome, but I suppose…. It is useful for scientific efforts.

These aren't the only methods of body disposal.

Bodies have been tied to the top of large towers

Thrown into the woods to be eaten by animals

Dumped into pits.

And in a couple of cases, launched into the vacuum of space.

Different rituals require family members to spend more or less time with the body, to wrap it in special cloth, or to anoint it with certain oils.

The Egyptians were widely known for their complex and involved enterrement rituals commonly known as mummification.

The body was first embalmed

The brain was removed

The organs removed and placed in specialized canopic jars

The body was then dried

Then wrapped which continued to help in the drying process

Then the body was finally entered, and due to the sandy heat of the desert, the body was often preserved to a great and surprising degree. Egyptians believed that those things you had in life would come with you after death, and so egyptian rulers were entered with great riches and inside grand palaces

Then of course there is the last ritual which I learned about just recently.

Certain tribal societies will….. Eat…. their dead….

They will eat them….

As in the entire village will get together and consume the corpse in a feast, believing that without this they cannot enter the afterlife.

…..

…

I am going to draft a proposal to the GASC that screaming and profanities should be considered scientifically appropriate when in regards to humans

#humans are insane #HUMANS ARE WERID #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Heal my soul

Jiang Cheng is shaking so hard he is afraid he’ll fall clean off his sword, but he pushes on regardless, Nie Huaisang’s letter clenched in his hand.

It speaks of horrible things; qi deviations and damage so great that Nie Mingjue had to be put into a preserving coma, giving them time to assess the damage and decide if it was too great to heal or not.

Jiang Cheng grits his jaw when he remembers that passage. There is no damage that is too great to heal, especially not when it comes to his husband.

Jiang Cheng makes the fly to the Unclean Realm in record time, feeling faint and shaky once he steps off his sword and he isn’t entirely sure if it is because of his worry for Nie Mingjue or because he thoroughly exhausted himself.

It doesn’t matter either way; he is here and he will see his husband now.

“Wanyin,” Nie Huaisang wails as soon as he sees him and throws himself into Jiang Cheng’s arms.

Jiang Cheng is stunned, but he dutifully catches Nie Huaisang and then he holds him close for a moment.

“How is he?” he asks, voice low and Nie Huaisang’s sob is all the answer he needs.

Jiang Cheng’s heart sinks in his chest, but he tries to remind himself that Nie Mingjue isn’t dead; as long as he’s not dead, Jiang Cheng will be able to do something for him.

“Come,” Nie Huaisang eventually says and drags Jiang Cheng off to see Nie Mingjue. He was put on a bed, laying still and pale as Jiang Cheng has ever seen him and even though they haven’t been husbands long—barely longer than half a year at this point—Jiang Cheng knows enough to know that this is not natural.

Nie Mingjue never is this still.

“Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and rushes to his side where he takes Nie Mingjue’s hand in his.

He immediately checks his meridians and he jerks back when he sees the damage the qi deviation did to his system.

“Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng chokes out, horrified to see just how he has been hurt, but also filled with a strange feeling of pride, because anyone else would have succumbed to these injuries a long time ago.

That Nie Mingjue is still alive—that his people were able to put him into this preserving sleep at all—speaks to a strength Jiang Cheng didn’t think possible.

“How is it?” Nie Huaisang quietly asks him and Jiang Cheng lets out a harsh breath.

“I need to take him with me,” he says, carefully putting Nie Mingjue’s hand back onto the bed.

“What? No!” Nie Huaisang immediately says, and he flicks open his fan in a nervous gesture. “You can’t take da-ge,” he says again, more vehemently and Jiang Cheng levels him with a look.

“This is why you chose me as his spouse,” he lowly says, trying not to let that thought hurt him more than it already does. “To heal him. So let me.”

“Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang starts, but Jiang Cheng is not interested in hearing what he has to say for himself.

He knows damn well that the rumoured healing abilities of the Yunmeng Jiang are the only reason he even came up as a spouse and since this is all Nie Mingjue will ever want from him, he will damn well do his job.

“Huaisang, he comes with me,” Jiang Cheng says again, channelling his Sect Leader authority, and Nie Huaisang stills behind his fan.

“You came alone.”

“So prepare a carriage for us. You can even send that right hand man of his to keep an eye on me if it makes you feel better. I’ll accommodate him, too,” Jiang Cheng says and he feels sick that he even has to bargain with Nie Huaisang like that.

Nie Mingjue’s life is on the line; there shouldn’t even be a question that they have to do everything they can to save him.

“It’s not—will he survive the travel?” Nie Huaisang asks, his voice small and low and Jiang Cheng realizes that it’s just the worry for his brother that makes him unreasonable.

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng gives back, because he will make sure that Nie Mingjue does.

“Okay,” Nie Huaisang whispers and immediately leaves the room, presumably to make the necessary arrangements.

Jiang Cheng takes the opportunity to sit on Nie Mingjue’s bed again. He takes his hand back up and presses the back of it against his forehead, breaths deliberately deep and steady.

“Don’t do this to me,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “We didn’t even have our one year anniversary yet,” he goes on, even though he knows that this was always a possibility.

Nie Mingjue made no secret out of this; made no secret out of the fact that Jiang Cheng would be a very young widower.

Well, he clearly didn’t count on Jiang Cheng’s stubbornness.

The journey back to Lotus Pier is uneventful, though it drags on and on since they can’t rush it with their precious cargo.

Nie Zonghui keeps looking at Jiang Cheng as if he expects to make a move against Nie Mingjue at any moment now, and if Jiang Cheng wasn’t so worried, if he wasn’t so glad that Nie Mingjue had good people by his side like this, then he’d be pretty damn angry with even the implication that he would harm Nie Mingjue.

He’s not the one who married out of convenience after all.

When they finally reach Lotus Pier, Jiang Cheng immediately brings Nie Mingjue into the special healing chamber his family used.

Jiang Cheng debated not rebuilding it with the rest of Lotus Pier at first, because mostly his mother used it whenever she suffered a qi deviation, and Jiang Cheng surprisingly isn’t prone to them himself. But in the end he decided to simply rebuild Lotus Pier as he used to know it; who knew when the chamber would come in handy.

And he is glad for it now, because it means that Nie Mingjue even has a fighting chance of recovering from this.

Jiang Cheng activates the healing array carved into the chamber and once he kicked everyone else out, he immediately goes to work.

He knows how to repair the damage done to Nie Mingjue’s meridians but it will take time; it will take a lot of time, Jiang Cheng realizes once he finished his first thorough examination of Nie Mingjue. The damage is almost irreversible and it will take weeks—if not months—to heal him.

But Jiang Cheng is up for that; there isn’t a thing he won’t do for those he loves and if it means he practically has to live in the chamber as well, then he will do it.

Except, of course, that isn’t how it goes because Jin Ling is still there, and he still needs his jiu-jiu more than anyone else, so of course Jiang Cheng can’t live in the chamber.

His Sect still needs guidance as well, even though they are pretty self-sufficient, and so Jiang Cheng limits himself to two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening by Nie Mingjue’s side. He squeezes in an hour during lunch as well whenever he can manage, but he isn’t happy with it at all.

It will take forever this way, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t want Nie Mingjue to suffer more than he really has to. But he doesn’t trust anyone else with healing Nie Mingjue either, and so he grits his teeth and continues with his job.

It is only weeks in, that Jiang Cheng realizes that the qi deviation doesn’t have natural causes.

“What the fuck,” he mumbles as he brushed his qi over the same spot again and again, until he can coax the imprint of a song and some lingering residual qi out of Nie Mingjue’s body.

Jiang Cheng isn’t familiar with the qi, but he knows that there are only two people playing music for Nie Mingjue to help with the qi deviations and he feels hot rage bubble up inside of him when he realizes that one of Nie Mingjue’s sworn brothers must have done it. Or maybe even both.

Zidian sparks on his hand with that realisation and Jiang Cheng quickly removes his hand from Nie Mingjue, unwilling to hurt him even on accident.

But Jiang Cheng can’t be sure, because he doesn’t recognize the qi and so he calls for Nie Zonghui.

“What is it?” Nie Zonghui asks once he is inside the chamber and Jiang Cheng can see the worry clear on his face.

“Come here,” he orders and then he guides Nie Zonghui through the process that led him to uncover this.

“Do you recognize the qi?” he asks him once he is sure that Nie Zonghui understands the implications of what they just found but Nie Zonghui shakes his head.

“No, I don’t. Neither Zewu-jun nor Lianfang-zun allow people to sit in when they play for Mingjue. I always thought it was because they feared he would be distracted, but—”

“Maybe not,” Jiang Cheng finishes weakly and then he shakes his head.

“Who would know?”

“Huaisang,” Nie Zonghui says and Jiang Cheng’s brow raises with the familiar address until Nie Zonghui blushes faintly.

“I’ll write him,” Jiang Cheng finally says, unwilling to embarrassed Nie Zonghui any further and he leaves Nie Mingjue in the capable hands of his most trusted man.

Nie Huaisang arrives in Lotus Pier a few days later, the urgency of the letter clearly not lost on him.

“What is going on?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng leads him into the healing chamber without further explanation.

He guides Nie Huaisang through the same things he showed Nie Zonghui and when they reach the lingering qi, Nie Huaisang’s face darkens.

“San-ge,” he whispers and Jiang Cheng is filled with so much rage that his entire vision goes red.

Zidian sparks on his hand but Jiang Cheng forces himself to calm down. Jin Guangyao isn’t here; there’s no need to lose control like this.

“How do you even know something like this?” Nie Huaisang asks and while the attempt at a distraction is painfully obvious, it’s also painfully effective.

“My mother got qi deviations,” Jiang Cheng tells him, aiming for calm, but probably missing by a mile. “I was tasked with healing her, and the qi deviations weren’t always of a natural course. Not all of them stemmed from her temper; sometimes the faint imprint of my father’s uncaring words would linger behind in her meridians,” Jiang Cheng admits and speaking of his family like this doesn’t hurt as much as it probably should have.

“I’m sorry,” Nie Huaisang whispers and Jiang Cheng awkwardly shrugs.

“It’s in the past.”

They sit in silence for a moment, before Nie Zonghui knocks to announce his arrival.

“Zewu-jun and Lianfang-zun are here to see Mingjue,” he tells them and the rage rises in Jiang Cheng as if it never left in the first place.

“I will deal with them,” Nie Huaisang quickly says, eying the sparking Zidian with worry and Jiang Cheng reaches out for his sleeve.

“I want him dead,” Jiang Cheng says, because this is the only thing he can think right now.

Jin Guangyao is the reason Jiang Cheng almost became a widower; he is the reason Nie Huaisang has to lead a Sect he was never meant to lead. Jiang Cheng wants him to pay for that.

“I don’t care how you do it, but I want him dead.”

Nie Huaisang flicks his fan open to hide his calculating look but Jiang Cheng knows him better than that. They spent a year studying together and he has watched how effortlessly Nie Huaisang took over as Sect Leader.

He is by far not as innocent as he seems.

“He will be,” is all Nie Huaisang eventually says and then he leaves Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue behind.

Jiang Cheng is definitely looking forward to Jin Guangyao’s eventual demise.

~*~*~

“Jiu-jiu, why are you always in that one room?” Jin Ling asks him one day during lunch and Jiang Cheng figures that he should maybe tell his nephew that his husband is in there.

“I will show you,” he promises him and Jin Ling immediately bounces in his seat with excitement.

He does take Jin Ling there after lunch, but before they enter the chamber he stops him with a hand to his shoulder.

“Nie Mingjue is in there,” he explains and Jin Ling hangs on to his every word with big eyes. “He’s my husband, even though you might not really remember that. He’s been hurt and he is sleeping for now. You have to be quiet and careful with him,” Jiang Cheng instructs Jin Ling, who immediately calms down.

“I remember that,” Jin Ling says, clearly proud of himself for that and Jiang Cheng smiles slightly.

Jin Ling just turned five so while he might remember that Jiang Cheng is married, Jiang Cheng is sure that he doesn’t understand quite just what being married means.

“Good boy,” he still praises Jin Ling and then he pushes the door open to reveal Nie Mingjue, who is still sleeping but looking better by the day.

“He’s so huge,” Jin Ling whispers and then slaps a hand over his mouth, carefully looking up at Jiang Cheng.

“He is,” he agrees with a slight smile and imagines how imposing Nie Mingjue must look to someone as small as Jin Ling.

“Why is he sleeping in here?” Jin Ling asks and Jiang Cheng picks him up to settle him on his lap as he sits down next to Nie Mingjue.

“Because he is hurt and this chamber helps him heal,” Jiang Cheng explains and he goes a little bit misty eyed when Jin Ling reaches out to pet Nie Mingjue’s hand.

“Yifu has to wake up soon,” he whispers, deliberately keeping his eyes on Nie Mingjue. “Jiu-jiu has been sad without you.”

“A-Ling,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and presses Jin Ling closer to his chest, pressing a kiss to his head.

“Jiu-jiu, too strong,” Jin Ling complaints and Jiang Cheng immediately loosens his arms, but he doesn’t let him go completely, and Jin Ling doesn’t wriggle out of his embrace.

“Listen, you have to talk to him,” Jin Ling suddenly says and looks up at Jiang Cheng. “He’s just laying there, it’s so boring! You have to tell him about your day!”

Jiang Cheng chuckles slightly, because even though it’s a healing sleep and Nie Mingjue is unlikely to hear anything that is being said to him, that’s exactly what Jiang Cheng has been doing for a while now.

“Why don’t you tell him something, for a change? I’m sure he’s tired of hearing my voice by now,” Jiang Cheng gently encourages Jin Ling who pouts up at him.

“Not true, jiu-jiu’s voice is the best,” Jin Ling declares, but then he does dive right into a recollection of his past week at Lotus Pier.

Jiang Cheng knows most of it already, of course, but he’s happy to stay and listen to Jin Ling blabber away.

He tries not to think about the fact that being with the two people he loves the most is strangely comforting, because Nie Mingjue is still unconscious and hurt after all, but it’s exactly what he’s thinking about.

Jiang Cheng can’t even be mad at himself for that.

~*~*~

Nie Mingjue wakes up four months after his qi deviation.

Jiang Cheng isn’t around to see it, but Nie Zonghui immediately calls for him once it happens, so at least Jiang Cheng has some time to steel himself to come face to face with Nie Mingjue.

He is still in the chamber when Jiang Cheng comes to see him, clearly too weak to immediately walk somewhere else, but he’s sitting up and he looks healthy and that is really all Jiang Cheng ever wanted for him.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue greets him and Jiang Cheng bows slightly to him. “None of that,” Nie Mingjue chastises him and beckons him closer. “I hear my recovery is thanks to you,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile and Jiang Cheng nods, unsure what he’s supposed to say to that.

It was a lot easier to talk to Nie Mingjue when he was still sleeping, Jiang Cheng finds himself thinking and then immediately afterwards he wants to kick himself.

Nothing is better than having Nie Mingjue being awake and obviously healthy again.

“I only did my duty,” Jiang Cheng presses out and bows his head towards Nie Mingjue again. “I already wrote to Huaisang, he will no doubt be coming soon to take you back to Qinghe,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say, because he knows that this is what Nie Mingjue wants.

He never did well with being apart from his Sect, and he must be anxious to get back to it.

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and even without looking up Jiang Cheng can tell that there’s a frown on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“You must be anxious to go home,” Jiang Cheng says, without meeting Nie Mingjue’s eyes.

“Aren’t I home?” Nie Mingjue asks and it’s so surprising that it startles Jiang Cheng into looking at him. “You’re my husband, are you not? Doesn’t that make Lotus Pier my home, too?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and while it’s everything that Jiang Cheng ever wanted to hear, he shakes his head.

“Please,” he almost scoffs out. “We both know this marriage isn’t about that.”

“What is this marriage about then?” Nie Mingjue asks and he sounds honestly curious.

Jiang Cheng can’t even find it in him to hate Nie Mingjue a little bit for making Jiang Cheng say it.

“About this,” he says with a gesture to the room. “I’m pretty sure Nie Huaisang only brought up my name back then because of this. Because I could probably heal you if something should go wrong. And I did, so I guess I served my purpose,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says.

There’s a long moment of silence before Nie Mingjue speaks again and it makes Jiang Cheng uneasy.

“This is not why I married you,” Nie Mingjue eventually speaks up, his voice low and soft and Jiang Cheng can’t help the snort that comes out at that.

Of course it’s why Nie Mingjue married him. Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why he is so intent on pretending anything else now.

“It was the reason your name first came up, that’s right,” Nie Mingjue goes on, and Jiang Cheng’s heart drops right to the floor at hearing his fears confirmed. “But it’s not why I agreed to marry you in the end.”

“Right,” Jiang Cheng huffs out. “What are the reasons then?” he demands to know, his voice bitter and angry but when he looks at Nie Mingjue he deflates.

The look on Nie Mingjue’s face is entirely too soft for Jiang Cheng to take.

“I married you because you’re strong and fierce. Because you love with your whole heart and you would die to protect those you love. I married you because you’re beautiful and sharp and one of the strongest Sect Leader I know. Yes, your name first came up because of your healing abilities; but I would have never married you out of such selfish reasons,” Nie Mingjue says. “I married you because I wanted to. Because I fell in love with you.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and he inexplicably feels like crying.

“Why did you marry me? If you think I only married you because of what you can do for me, then why did you agree?” Nie Mingjue asks him and Jiang Cheng blushes.

“I’m not good with words,” he mumbles, anxiously turning Zidian on his finger. “I can’t give you a half dozen reasons why I married you.”

“Just give me one,” Nie Mingjue whispers and reaches out to take Jiang Cheng’s hand in his. “Just give me one reason.”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Jiang Cheng admits, even though his face feels like it’s going to go up in flames.

There are a dozen different things he could say about Nie Mingjue and why he first caught his eye and how he managed to keep it, but Jiang Cheng’s throat closes up just thinking about saying them out loud.

When Nie Mingjue raises the hand he just took to press a kiss to the back of it, Jiang Cheng thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to say them all right now for Nie Mingjue to understand.

“I’m not going back yet,” Nie Mingjue tells him once Jiang Cheng feels like he can breathe again and it’s enough to make Jiang Cheng look at Nie Mingjue again.

“What?”

“I have to recuperate and I would like to do it here,” Nie Mingjue says with a small shrug. “I am aware that the first few months of our marriage weren’t all that perfect, but this might be our chance. I hear Huaisang is doing pretty well as Sect Leader; let him lead for a while longer. I think I deserve a break after what happened.”

The truth about the qi deviation is on the tip of Jiang Cheng’s tongue, but in the end he doesn’t say anything. He decides to wait for Nie Huaisang, who will be better at explaining than Jiang Cheng is, but deep down Jiang Cheng knows that it’s just out of a selfish desire to not shatter the moment right now.

“I would like that,” Jiang Cheng whispers and when Nie Mingjue tugs on his hand to bring him closer, Jiang Cheng easily follows.

“And I distantly remember someone calling me yifu,” Nie Mingjue mutters and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head as he tucks him into his side. “Did I dream that?”

“No, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng says with a slight chuckle, because ever since he took Jin Ling here for the first time, the boy has made it a point to come at least every other day to talk to Nie Mingjue about his day.

“I’d like to hear it in person,” Nie Mingjue admits and Jiang Cheng smiles down at their still intertwined hands.

“There’s nothing that will stop him from saying it again once he hears you’re awake,” Jiang Cheng says, because he knows his nephew and Jin Ling will be so excited to hear that Nie Mingjue is awake.

Nie Mingjue sighs at that and Jiang Cheng cranes his head to look at him worriedly.

“I’m sorry about how the first few months of our marriage went,” Nie Mingjue says and brushes his lips over Jiang Cheng’s forehead. “I’m going to make it up to you,” he promises.

“You’re in luck,” Jiang Cheng says with a slight smile and a faint blush. “You woke up in time for your one year anniversary.”

A sparkle enters Nie Mingjue’s eyes at that and Jiang Cheng briefly wonders what he got himself into, but then Nie Mingjue presses a whispered “Good,” right into Jiang Cheng lips and every and any thought flees his head.

If this is how Nie Mingjue is going to make it up to him, then Jiang Cheng doesn’t mind that at all.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #hurt/comfort #fluff #married couple #misunderstandings #love confessions

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jewish-space-laser · 4 years

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Could Be Lethal - Epilogue

“I'm scared to death that she might be it, That the love is real, that the shoe might fit, She might just be my everything and beyond...”

-Beyond, Leon Bridges

Hello friends! I’m honestly a little choked up posting this. CBL has meant so much to me over this past year, and all I can think about right now is how appreciative for every single person who has supported me, whether you sent me messages, reblogged with nice tags, or gave it any kind of love. None of it went unnoticed, I promise. Special shout out to @for-fucks-sake-h @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays @real-work-of-art @haute-romance-quotidienne for hyping me up and proofreading and just being all-around incredible. Okay, this got kind of long, so I’ll end it here, but as always please tell me what you think. I love chatting with you all <3 xoxox Tile (3.3k, she’s a short one!)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

Catch up here!

You were so, so late.

It was half an hour past the time your friends were set to meet at Slim’s, and you hadn’t even left your flat yet. Meredith had texted you twice asking where you were, but you ignored her.

You and Harry had decided to keep your relationship on the down-low, just for a little while. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from your friends, you just wanted a little bit of time to adjust to your new normal before having questions fired at you left and right. They were a curious bunch, after all.

“Shit,” you heard Harry mutter from your bedroom. You lowered your mascara wand to peek through the doorway, seeing him frowning at his phone. His jeans were unbuttoned, shirt nowhere to be found, and he only had one sock on. “Nick is calling me.”

“Well, don’t answer!” You laughed. Leaning back towards the bathroom mirror, you continued trying to rush through your makeup.

You absolutely hated rushing, but you hadn’t been able to deny Harry’s suggestion that he should join you in the shower. It had been less than a week since you made things official, but you already knew you were in a world of trouble. You’d never be able to say no to him.

“I think I have to answer,” he sighed, “this is the third time he’s called me, I’m pretty sure he’s getting worried.”

“Okay,” you snorted, “but don’t tell him you’re here.”

“I’ll make something up,” he assured you.

Giggles bubbled up in your throat as you listened to him tell Nick that he’d accidentally taken an extra long nap, and that he’d be on his way shortly. He didn’t sound all that convincing, but it would have to do.

You hadn’t heard him get off the phone, so you jumped a bit when you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind. You set down the makeup brush you had been using, catching his eye in the mirror. He smiled softly, pressing a little kiss to your shoulder.

“You look really nice,” he told you. At first, it seemed innocent, but then he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, and another to your neck. “Like, really nice.”

You couldn’t help the sigh that blew out of your lips as your head lolled to the side. He was entirely too charming, but you were already late.

“We need to finish getting ready,” you managed to breathe. It was always harder to string sentences together when his lips were on you. “You’re not even dressed.”

He only hummed, closing his eyes as he moved his lips up to your jaw. His hands had moved lower, sliding over your hips and down to the tops of your thighs. You felt like you were on fire.

“Harry, please, we need to....” you gulped when his left hand slide just under the hem of your skirt, “we need to go.”

“Do we?” He teased. “I was thinking maybe we could just… stay here….”

Temptation crept up your spine, but you pushed it down. The two of you had been stuck together like magnets for the past five days, you should be able to get through one night without being all over each other.

“You already, um,” you gulped, feeling Harry’s lips turn up against your skin, “you told Nick you were on your way.”

He pulled back with a sigh, letting the hand under your skirt fall to his side. You watched in the mirror as he rolled his eyes, resting his chin on your shoulder as you finished up with your makeup.

“I don’t know why you’re so stressed about this,” Harry mused, following you as you broke away from him to throw the tube of lipstick into your purse, “it’s just our friends. We see them all the time.”

He was right, of course, but part of you really needed this night to go well, without a single hiccup. Because of you and your inability to express emotions, your entire friend group had suffered. Things were weird when you and Harry had stopped talking, and it was undoubtedly felt by the lot of them. You just wanted the dynamic to feel easy again.

“I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, “I just hate lying to them. I’m so bad at it.”

“You are,” he snickered, pulling you into his chest, “it was your idea, though. I personally don’t care if they know.”

You groaned, twisting out of his arms once again to slip your shoes on. Harry followed suit, kneeling down to lace up his vans. The way he was gazing up at you made you squirm a bit, the concern and admiration he felt for you more apparent than usual.

“Babe…” he sighed out, rising to his feet, “you make things so hard for yourself, I swear. You’re always thinking about things that could go wrong. What about the things that have already gone right?”

You sucked your lips into your mouth, not entirely sure how to respond. Maybe you were a pessimist, maybe it was your anxiety, or maybe it was just the way your brain was wired, but you’d always had a tendency to think of the worst possible scenario. Harry had a point though; there was a fine line between self preservation and self sabotage. Perhaps the world wouldn’t end if you gave your anxious brain a breather and allowed yourself to relax.

Getting together with Harry had been hell, but all of the obstacles you’d created were just in your head. Pulling excuses out of thin air was truly your specialty, anything to keep yourself from taking risks, but eventually it had been exhausting holding yourself back from the things you wanted. You didn’t want your anxiety to ruin your happiness anymore.

So you took a deep breath, and then you shifted your focus. Sure, it was going to be uncomfortable fielding questions from your rowdy group of friends, but Harry would be sitting right next to you. And he would stay next to you. And he was in front of you, right now, just inches away, loving you. Suddenly, your concerns regarding your friends weren’t worth dwelling on.

“That’s true,” you rolled your shoulders, letting go of some tension, “lots of things are going right.”

“Like what?” He smirked, swiping his car keys off the little table in your foyer.

“Let’s see,” you said playfully, pretending to be deep in thought as you locked up your flat, “I’ve got a decent job.”

“That you do,” he agreed, “and?”

“I quite like my neighborhood,” you remarked, tilting your head, “my flat is small but I’m proud of it.”

“Okay,” his grin widened, “anything else?”

He was fishing for compliments, but you refused to give in. He faked offense when you just rolled your eyes, and bumped his hip into yours before tangling his fingers with yours. You walked in hand-in-hand until you reached his car.

“I’m lucky to have you,” you said quietly as he buckled his seatbelt. He paused, lips pulled up into a sweet smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, meeting him halfway as you shared a short kiss, “having you in my life is very, very right.”

He kissed you quickly once more before settling into his seat, fiddling with the rearview mirror until he was satisfied. He’d let you borrow his car the other day, and made a huge fuss about the way you readjusted his seat. You loved him anyway.

In fact, you loved him so much, you weren’t sure you were going to be able to hide it. Maybe Harry was right… you were just creating barriers for yourself. How nice would it be if you could slide into the regular booth at Slim’s, next to Harry, and hold his hand? When you were trying to be secretive about your sleepovers, you’d barely even interacted in front of other people, too paranoid that you’d give yourselves away immediately.

It was a scary thing to be thinking about, especially as you were on your on way there already, so you twisted a knob on Harry’s dash to change the radio station. After a few moments of searching for a song to distract you, you gave up and turned the entire thing off.

“Maybe we should just tell them,” you blurted, biting your lip nervously.

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at you for just a moment before returning his focus to the road. “We can do whatever you want, babe.”

“What do you want?” You asked.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Well, I mean… I get wanting to keep this to ourselves because it’s so… new, you know?” He looked over at you once he was stopped at a red light, a sheepish smile painted over his cheeks. “But at the same time… I’m excited. Like, really excited, and I want to tell my friends. They’ll be excited for us, I know it.”

Them being excited was what you were afraid of, in a way. You knew your friends well, so you knew that Meredith would ask too many questions, Thomas would say something inappropriate, Grimmy would accidentally talk about it on air, and Jessie would probably just silently sit in the corner. The image you’d created in your head was chaotic and overwhelming.

But maybe it wouldn’t be like that. Maybe it was worth finding out.

“You’re overthinking, I can tell,” Harry frowned, “listen, like I said, we’ll do whatever you want. Tonight is meant to be fun.”

“No,” you shook your head, “let’s tell them.”

“Really? That’s what you want?”

“Yes.”

And you meant it. As terrifying as it would be, keeping more secrets from your friends wasn’t the answer. Plus, they would likely ask a bunch of intrusive questions, anyway. Meredith was nosy long before you ever spent a single night in Harry’s bed.

Not to mention that Harry was excited, about you. It warmed your heart in a way you’d never felt before, like you were floating and sinking at the same time. He was proud to be able to call you his, and you understood because you felt the same way. If giving them the news about your relationship would make him happy, then it was a no-brainer. His happiness would always win over your fear.

Your own happiness, too.

Harry ended up being right, of course. The moment the two of you walked through the door together, hands interlocked, the group was ecstatic.

“Holy shit!” Nick had shouted, loud enough that people at other tables were looking over. “Fucking finally!”

Meredith had let out the most grating, nails-on-a-chalkboard squeal, but you’d barely had time to grimace before she was throwing her arms around you. Just like you’d predicted, it was loud, over the top, and even a bit embarrassing… but it was also a celebration. Even though they made a scene, it wasn’t awkward, or overwhelming. They just wanted to support you.

And being the center of attention wasn’t as difficult when you had a partner. Harry was more than willing to take the lead on answering questions, allowing you to sit back and just process everything.

“Next round is on me,” Jessie announced. Harry had just finished explaining to Thomas that the cuddling had been going on for months. Nick and Meredith hadn’t looked shocked, and Jessie had just looked amused.

“Cheers, friend,” you smiled, “need help carrying?”

They nodded at you, so you slid out of your seat, giving Harry’s arm a soft squeeze before making your way to the bar. Jessie caught the attention of the bartender right away, listing off the drink orders that everyone had become familiar with.

“How are you doing?” You asked them, leaning your back against the wooden bar.

“Me?” They scoffed, mirroring your position. “I should be asking how you are. Last time I saw you, you were a total mess. Well, figuratively. Your apartment was ridiculous, I can literally still smell Clorox.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sorry you had to witness my panic induced cleaning. That talk we had ended up being really helpful.”

“Good. It sounds like things are going well, then,” they said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I’m really happy for you.”

“Thanks,” you rested your head on their shoulder, “I am sorry though, for making things weird for everyone.”

“Whatever,” Jessie waved a hand through the air, “it’s over now. We just didn’t like seeing the both of you in so much pain, especially when it wasn’t really our place to do anything about it.”

Just then, the bartender tapped your shoulders, pointing to the six drinks lined up on the counter. You grabbed four while Jessie grabbed two, and together you headed back to the table.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Meredith said, plucking her drink from your hand, “Harry was just telling us about the time he got blackout drunk at some pub in Hackney, weren’t you Harry?”

“No,” he said drily, “I wasn’t.”

You passed him his water, which he promptly took a large gulp of. The woes of being a designated driver.

This went on for a while longer, and eventually your friends stopped grilling you, satisfied with the information they’d pried out of you. Now, it just felt like a normal night, where everybody chatted and gossipped and caught up. So familiar, that you weren’t even phased when a text from Harry popped up on your lock screen.

From: Harry Styles 9:56PM

Are we sleeping at mine tonight?

“Yeah,” you giggled, locking your phone and glancing up at Harry. He was already looking at you with bright eyes and a gentle smile.

He leaned down and quickly pressed his lips to your forehead. “Perfect.”

Just weeks ago, you were secretly texting under the table and making up excuses to leave at the same time, a stark contrast to tonight, where you both hugged your friends goodbye and left together, hand-in-hand and drama free. It was refreshing to be able to fully relax together, no longer tethered to the weight that comes with keeping a secret. Harry seemed especially carefree tonight, running his hands up and down your sides as he walked behind you, only letting go once you reached his car.

“I had fun tonight,” he remarked, twisting to look over his shoulder as he reversed from the parking spot. His arm was stretched out behind your headrest, and you had to resist the urge to lean into him.

“Me too,” you hummed, crossing your legs, “it was nice being able to sit next to you for a change.”

“I agree,” he nodded, looking straight ahead out the windshield, “although that skirt has been driving me crazy all evening. In this case it might have been easier having you all the way across the table from me.”

You only giggled, rolling down the car window. You needed some cool air on your skin, which was suddenly feeling flushed all over at the thought of Harry checking you out.

“I’m not kidding,” his lips were in a straight line, but you knew him well enough to recognize the twinkle in his eye, “that thing is coming off the moment we get home.”

You soon found out that he was quite serious, pinning you against the door the moment it closed behind you. He pressed the front of his body fully against yours, not a single inch of space between your chests as he dipped down to slot your lips together.

You gasped for air when he pulled back, throwing your head back against the door as he slowly dragged his palms down your body, stopping to squeeze the flesh of your hips and finally resting on the curve of your ass.

“How do you do it?” Harry wondered out loud, bunching the fabric of your skirt in his fists as he pulled it upwards. “It’s like you don’t even try.”

“Do what?” You breathed, lifting up a leg and looping it around his hip.

He let out an appreciative grunt, grinding his hips into the flimsy lace of your underwear.

“Like… you just make me want you so much,” he wheezed, arching back slightly as you fiddled with the fly on his jeans, “you’re not even trying to be sexy, like tonight, just fucking sitting and chatting shit with our mates, I wanted to- oh, fuck me!”

He let out a shaky breath when you reached inside his boxers, rubbing along his length until you could grasp your fingers around him and tug him free from his boxers. After just a few slow pumps, he was swatting your hands away, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side and pushing into you with a slow buck of his hips. He pushed slowly, in and out, until he was as deep as he could be, and you revelled in the feeling of his hipbones pressed against your pelvis.

“Good?” He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Mhm,” you managed, sliding a hand up his back under his shirt.

It wasn’t long before he rendered you a moaning mess, one hand gripping your leg under the knee and the other looped behind the small of your back. He was hitting the deepest, most perfect spots inside of you, and even though the doorknob was digging into your ass, and you still hadn’t taken off your heels, you wouldn’t change a thing.

He was so good at finding creative ways to fuck you, whether it was a spontanious quickie over the desk in his office, or the slow, sultry sex you’d had in his home studio. It was fun, and exciting, and unique, and you couldn’t get enough.

His thrusts became faster and harder the moment you reached your hand down to play with your clit. He was watching your fingers like a hawk, not blinking as he watched you pleasure yourself while he fucked into you. Soon enough, your thighs were shaking, cries escaping your mouth as your orgasm thundered through your veins, sending tingles to the tips of your toes and a warmth throughout your belly.

Harry followed suit soon after, driving his cock into you once more before spilling inside of you. Neither of you moved, simply standing against the door.

“You didn’t even take my skirt off,” you eventually broke the silence, dropping your leg. Your hip was definitely going to be sore in the morning.

“Would you like me to remove it?” He snickered, digging his fingers into your sides. “I’d be happy to rid you of it, right here, right now.”

As you and your boyfriend chased each other around the house, teasingly undressing each other as you went, you didn’t spare a single thought on your worries, anxieties, or fears. No, they weren’t even on the radar.

Instead, all you could focus on was how unbelievably happy you were right now.

You felt high, but this time you weren’t afraid of falling because Harry would be there to catch you. There could be pits of lava, fields of thorns, pointy rocks, rivers full of piranhas… and you’d still take the blind leap if it meant being in his arms. In a way, you’d already been through hell to get here, plagued by your own mind, the most torturous kind of self sabotage.

It didn’t matter what the future held. Hypotheticals were no longer important; what mattered was what you had right now, right in front of you.

And that was enough.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I’m so sad that their story has come to an end, but it’s not over! We’ll definitely be seeing more of them. I love you all xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxox Tile

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harrystyles fanfic #fanfiction #one direction #harry #styles #friends to lovers #could be lethal #cbl #epilogue

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cerastes · 4 years

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E2 artworks are for the most part delightful, but today, I would like us to pay particular attention to certain characters’ Elite 2 artwork: Nightingale, Cuora, and Specter.

The three of them have two things in common: The first is that they are all amnesiac (or, in the case of Nightingale, partially amnesiac, but amnesiac nonetheless), the second is that they are all drawn by Skade. I think the Hypergryph writers just have an Amnesiac Hotline for whenever they conceive another amnesiac character and it connects directly to Skade’s temporal lobe, where all information about the new character is immediately uploaded to and then he just starts furiously drawing.

But let’s focus on the fact that they are amnesiac in this post, and how this is reflected in their E2 art in a way I found clever. Let’s begin with our favorite fashionable demon, Nightingale.

Nightingale’s name is a two-fold allusion: The most evident one is being an homage to Florence Nightingale, the mother of modern nursing. The other, perhaps least apparent but of equal importance, is to the Greek aesop “The Laborer & The Nightingale”, which tells the tale of a poor laborer who, enthralled with the beautiful song of a nightingale that sang every day atop a tall cedar tree, grew selfish and built a cage of iron and twigs to capture the nightingale to make its songs his and only his. Her lines make several allusions to cages and empty rooms,

and of only being let out of her ‘cage’ when someone needed her healing powers, her “song”, if you will (especially relevant when you consider how song and Arts seem to be related in Terra). Her E2 art, thus, represents her bursting out of her cage or iron and twigs. Unlike other Sarkaz Operators, her E2 is not a shape or a representation of a Demon, it is, instead, a representation of her inner Demon, the cage of her head, which contains all of her memories and emotions locked tight within in. She’s not there yet, but she’s making progress. It is worthy of note that Shining also doesn’t depict a Demon in her E2 art, her artwork instead centering on her shield, but while Shining’s E2 art is an allusion of her deep, deep shame of being a Sarkaz and the things she’s done as a Sarkaz (or, in other words, denouncing her own identity to focus on what she truly wants to do from here on, which is to protect others), Nightingale’s E2 artwork instead depicts her destroying part of the cage that holds her back: She’s not fully out yet, but now, it is only a matter of time.

Then, what about Cuora?

Some Operators show a manifestation of their identifying animal that might not be entirely physical but it’s clear, with hard colors and textures. Other Operators show their animal very clearly, as if it was truly there, like Perfumer and Siege, and in some cases, it REALLY is there, as with Eyjafjalla (who directly addresses them in a voice line), and this seems to be matter of artistic preference, but whereas Skade normally draws E2 manifestations with solid colors, in the case of Cuora and Specter, he chooses to make them almost phantasmal, with soft colors and an ephemeral feel to them instead. In fact, the turtle you can see above is as generic as can be, it doesn’t seem to be identifying of any particular turtle species, and all we know about it is that it is “a turtle”. This is deliberate, meant to represent Cuora’s amnesia: Her race, Petram, is not unknown, but she doesn’t remember what specific kind of Petram she is. There’s a lot of turtle species, so which one is she? We have no idea. We know Blue Poison is a Poison Dart Frog, we know Nearl is a Pegasus, so when it comes to species either real or fantastic, we usually have an accurate account of which each Operator is supposed to represent, but not with Cuora, because she’s amnesiac. Whatever specific kind of Petram she is, we’ll never know unless someone that can properly identify her or that knew her from before the amnesia can divulge that information. To represent this, thus, her animal manifestation is ephemeral, phantasmal, ambiguous: It shows us exactly as much as we know of it, that is, that she’s a turtle, nothing less, nothing more.

So where does this leave Specter?

Nightingale has partial amnesia, Cuora is amnesiac but her Oripathy was caught in time and she’s been stabilized, but Specter’s nervous system has been ravaged, and not only is she amnesiac, she’s also prone to bouts of insanity and of sometimes saying some rather concerning things, such as wanting to take Doctor to the “place where secrets are imparted” or how “some people were never ever meant to be one, so it is her duty to cut them into many”.

Nightingale’s art, if you look above, is ‘solid’, bereft of particles or separated parts: It’s an iron cage, the twigs, and herself. Cuora’s art is somewhat more ‘loose’, with some weaving loose lines on the lower part of the drawing to presumably represent low tide, where you would normally find small turtles, as well as to represent her somewhat deteriorated but overall well-preserved psyche. Specter’s art, in contrast, is very loose: There’s an emphasis on aquatic trails all over the composition, representing the deep sea, as well as her flowing cloak, hair, and habit flaps. There’s many loose ‘particles’, like smudges of splattered ink, representative of her shattered psyche, and, most importantly, there’s not one but two sharks of different species as her animal representation. I believe they are representative of how she’s currently ‘two’ people: The somewhat manic but otherwise harmless Specter that can be found roaming the halls of Rhodes Islands’ dorms, and the completely silent fighting machine named Specter that can be found roaming the battlefield like a vengeful ghoul, following orders to the letter, her own safety be damned.

But there’s another meaning, I believe: Cuora at least has one turtle in her art, which can at least let us approximate which species it could possibly be (likely a freshwater turtle judging from comparative size and shell shape, bigger than tortoises, smaller than sea turtles), but Specter has two sharks, which means properly approximating her exact species becomes a lot harder. Skadi and Deepcolor, fellow AEgirians, make it very clear which animals they are supposed to be (Orca and Dumbo Squid, respectively), which further proves that this is a Specter-specific conundrum and not a Deep Sea trait. Likewise, her outfit has several allusions to the overall shape of a shark, but not to any specific shark.

If we want to dig deeper, and boy howdy I bet we do, we can take a look at the Chinese Hanzi that composes her name:

“幽灵鲨”, or “Yōulíng shā”, which translates literally to “Ghost Shark” from Chinese to English. Fitting that her codename is given as Specter. So, what’s a “Ghost Shark”, exactly? Aside, from, you know,

a really bad B-Movie.

Sounds like it’s just a cool poetic name for someone who is but a specter: a fleeting existence, with no memories, only a shadow of her former self, no?

Well, that works out, to be frank, but it turns out, Ghost Sharks are a real species. This is the Bahamas Ghost Shark:

And this is the Australian Ghost Shark:

They belong to a species of fish known as Chimaeras, and they live in temperate ocean floors down to 2,600 m (8,500 ft) deep and are some of the oldest fish alive, they share plenty of characteristics with their prehistoric ancestors (or, to translate this to Arknights terms: keep in mind how Specter looks just like a regular human). These are deep sea fish, with only a couple of them coming close to the surface rarely, and it fits with what we know of Specter, what with her background of fighting giant Deep Sea monsters as an Abyssal Hunter. Of course, whether she is supposed to be a Chimaera of any sort remains to be seen, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she was, given the thematic similarities.

I found all of these little nudges and nods to be plenty fascinating. Am I perhaps reading too deep into this? Always within the realm of possibility! Are Skade and Hypergryph planting seeds of lore that will bloom much later, making every piece of evidence given until that point suddenly make cohesive sense? Wouldn’t put it past them! So analyze, analyze, and analyze, because even if it takes you nowhere, lord knows it’s fun to do so.

#arknights #long post #specter #cuora #nightingale

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tossawary · 3 years

Text

Some random favorite lines (with commentary) of Chapter 23: “Swallowing Your Heart” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary.

Liu Qingge shoves him off his sword.

Plot twist! Betrayal! Shang Qinghua doesn’t have time to get over his shock at such an attack before Liu Qingge has caught the riderless sword in one hand and caught the swordless rider over his shoulder.

The Bai Zhan Peak War God flies on to Qian Cao Peak with his new cargo.

Shang Qinghua slaps the man on the back and wheezes.

“Have you done that move before?!” he demands, because that was so fucking smooth it’s offensive. It really does offend him! He’s super offended right now!

“Mingyan,” Liu Qingge says, like this explains everything. “And Fanli.”

It kind of does explain everything.

AN: That LQG effortlessly manhandled SQH in the same way that he manhandles his sister. This is how LQG shows affection. LMY is not a fan of it either.

“Ming Fan is a good sparring partner,” Binghe says as part of his tirade, like he’s confessing something. “But he needs sooooo many compliments to soothe his pride. ‘Oh, I knocked Shixiong over because he’s such a good teacher! Thank you, Shixiong, for helping me practice this move. Shixiong, I really admire how you don’t let the little things bother you because you’re so confident and skilled.’ I think he’s getting better now, but it’s still tiring sometimes. Uncle, some people really can’t take even a well-meaning criticism without falling apart.”

AN: This conversation was definitely a jab at Shang Qinghua relationship with Mobei-Jun, but it also extends to Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu.

Binghe says that he also heard some Qiong Ding Peak people are here now, but he doesn’t know what they’re doing. Beyond that, not that much has apparently happened while Shang Qinghua was sleeping the day away! Liu Qingge came by, probably to report to his scheming wife, who was yet again totally and embarrassingly correct about Shang Qinghua’s state of being. Chen Xuan, whom Binghe embarrassingly correctly identified as Disciple Dumpling Thief’s Friend, dropped by, but only to say not to worry about the day-in-day-out of An Ding Peak.

AN: Binghe knows Shang Qinghua’s nicknames for his favorite disciples.

Binghe curls up with his arms around and his head resting on Shang Qinghua’s stomach, while Shang Qinghua rubs his protagonist son’s back.

AN: Either of these characters getting unconditional platonic affection is SO UNUSUAL that it hurts. People need hugs at all ages!

The kindest option here might be the demon lord coming back sometime in the next few days and pretending the entire interaction never happened. Shang Qinghua will tell the man that it was a human thing, some kind of nervous fit, and beg forgiveness for his lapse in presentation! Well, he probably should, except… he doesn’t really want to do that. He doesn’t really want to go, “My king, my apologies for the mess! Let me, ah, let me just swallow all of those words I threw out there, just chew them back up, gulp them down into some vital organ to rot there forever, so we can never talk about them ever again.”

Mobei-Jun seems to still be his Mobei-Jun, looking at that confrontation in hindsight, and not… not any other Mobei-Jun. People in general seem to have stayed the same, besides Peerless Cucumber being fitted into the picture as some mysterious intruder. All those years of service and loyalty and companionship Shang Qinghua remembers with Mobei-Jun haven’t vanished on him. “All current achievements have been preserved” and all that!

So, part of him wants to go, “So! Those things I said! What about them, huh? Do you have anything to say to any of that, my king? Anything at all?”

AN: Shang Qinghua wants to OPEN UP and he can’t make himself take that step when his nephew’s life is on the line. MBJ has not made himself explicitly safe yet. Unspoken understandings can only go so far here.

“Was it something really bad?” Luo Fanli presses, leaning back along his desk until she’s practically lying down on it.

Not in a sexy pose or anything, just in a put-upon flop, kind of like a tired child finding the oasis of a department store furniture display during a too-long shopping trip or a toddler denied candy pouting on the floor of the grocery store. His little sister-in-law is not greatly concerned with dignity, much to her sister’s dismay and the eternal frustration of Qi Qingqi. She says life is too short for it.

“No one died.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it means that everyone lived through it,” Shang Qinghua explains.

AN: Shang Qinghua’s relationship with Luo Fanli is fun. I’m looking forward to putting Luo Fanli in a room with Shen Yuan. SY needs friends. Luo Fanli @ Shen Yuan: “Idk, he’s a weirdo, but he’s uncle-shaped, right?”

Except when Shang Qinghua opens the soup container, it’s still completely full. None of his disciples - who are very, very good at acting like they’ve never been fed ever in their life - have helped themselves to even a taste. It’s a big pot! There’s plenty to go around! More than Shang Qinghua could reasonably eat by himself! And yet…

His disciples have been way too nice to him lately. He feels like he should be checking his pockets for whatever they stole from him when he wasn’t looking. Did the System replace his bratty disciples with good alternate universe ones?! He hates it, thanks!

AN: This is SUCH a low standard... and yet...! It’s very funny to me how much his disciples not stealing food from a sick man says here.

SQH: “Why are all my disciples such sticky-fingered brats?!”

LJH: “Because you think it’s funny.”

SQH: “Oh, yeah.”

Wow, Peerless Cucumber doesn’t seem pleased to see him! Shang Qinghua hasn’t suffered a glare that venomous since… well, Shen Qingqiu, maybe? Okay, so maybe the switch would have worked a little bit! But Shang Qinghua is still glad it didn’t happen, even if the System fucked up the rest of reality (somehow, Shang Qinghua still hasn’t figured out how exactly) out of revenge for its own shitty choices falling through.

“Where have you been?” Peerless Cucumber demands.

“Busy?” Shang Qinghua answers, coming closer but not sitting down. “Look, the System just rewrote bits of reality on me because of your fumbled arrival tipping some invisible scales and it has not been forthcoming about the changes. I had things to check on and things have been a bit political. I sent you a message.”

“That message said a lot of nothing,” Peerless Cucumber says, but with less venom.

“Aha, yeah. Well, I’m here now.”

Peerless Cucumber looks frustrated, but finally scoots over so that Shang Qinghua can sit beside him on the bench. Shang Qinghua gingerly sits, giving the kid space.

Shang Qinghua is being super calm for the other transmigrator right now! He’s very calm here! The calmest!

AN: SY really is a scared kid putting up a front. Which works out, because SQH is a dad here (and thinks SY’s insults are mostly just funny).

Out of the corner of his eye, Shang Qinghua can see a Qian Cao Peak cultivator standing impatiently by the Qiong Ding Peak guard. And… someone bouncing on their toes in a Qing Jing Peak uniform? Speak of the half-demon future tyrant of this world!

“Looks like we’ll have to continue this later,” Shang Qinghua says.

“My assisted meditation appointment,” Peerless Cucumber confirms glumly, looking as though he’s never experienced inner peace in his life and has no intention of willingly doing so.

AN: I took SY as genuinely having a knack for cultivating and that’s the interpretation I’m using for this fic, especially since I gave the Original Shen Qingqiu health problems that nearly killed him. In an earlier chapter, Mu Qingfang mentions needing to “replace Shen Qingqiu’s entire cultivation system”, which I planted for Shen Yuan getting a free, extremely stable highly developed cultivation system as part of his transmigration later.

I mean, Shen Yuan manages to weather Liu Qingge’s qi deviation, a great deal of stress, Without-A-Cure, and etc., and he’s remarkably stable through most of it. So I’m leaning towards “a little bit of System assistance” here. The System was going to replace both Shen Qingqiu and SQQ’s unstable cultivation system out for Shen Yuan and a more stable cultivation system.

SQQ still has a cultivation system. If he didn’t, it would have been mentioned by now. SQQ is repeatedly stated to be improving well in this chapter. I think Mu Qingfang would have noticed if SQQ didn’t have cultivation anymore.

“Then wouldn’t you be Luo-Shixiong to me?” Peerless Cucumber suggests wryly to the protagonist, who is both about five years younger than him and still shorter. (Mu Qingfang said that their guest seems to believe that he’s newly twenty. Whether or not the kid is editing his age up or down, Shang Qinghua has decided that he’s just not going to fucking think about this fact.)

“Uh,” Luo Binghe says, looking stunned and then to Shang Qinghua for help. Ha, he’s flustered, which doesn’t happen often. That’s adorable.. “...Maybe?”

Shang Qinghua snorts and remains unhelpful. Ning Yingying is actually about a year younger than Luo Binghe is, Shang Qinghua knows, but she’s been a member of the sect for significantly longer. Binghe might have some shidi and shimei soon with the next entrance test and he’s been very excited about that, but he clearly doesn’t know what to do with a “shidi” closer to his young auntie’s age than his own. Kind of weird seniors and juniors are just part of the sect experience, nephew! Get used to it!

“Thank you, regardless,” Peerless Cucumber says.

“Of course,” Binghe agrees quickly.

AN: SQH is probably going to look back on this moment and go, “Hmm.”

‘You’re very resourceful,” his sister-in-law says slyly.

“I am very resourceful,” Shang Qinghua allows, and in a fit of affection reaches up to pinch Luo Jiahui’s cheek like she’s Binghe. “And I have the world’s wisest and least bossy sister-in-law, too! How fortunate I am!”

Luo Jiahui slaps his hand away with a giggle, turning slightly pink.

“At least you know it!” she says.

AN: I’ve been wanting to make SQH pinch someone’s cheek for ages now.

“...You looked very scared that night,” Luo Jiahui says finally. “It might have seemed worse to you than it was. If your demon can’t be understanding of one bad night, then it’s… I don’t know if there’s a way forward with him at all.” She fixes a determined expression and says, “If any offers are retracted then we’ll manage just fine without him. We’ll tell Qingge and he’ll help. And so will Fanli. Our family won’t fall apart so easily. Hua-Ge doesn’t have to take care of everything and be everything at once to everyone.”

AN: LJH channeling some “dump him! dump him! dump him!” energy.

Shang Qinghua has never been able to picture cutting ties after all this time. What would he even say? “My king, I think our arrangement has come to an end. I promised to serve you for the rest of my life, but that was when I didn’t think my life was worth very much.” He can’t see that going over well! It’s never really been an option, anyway, since Luo Binghe can’t not unlock his demonic powers and go to the Demon Realm. The System won’t have it.

AN: If SQH said that to MBJ, that would be a one-hit KO, probably.

Break the man’s heart, why don’t you?

#tossawary svsss #pride is not the word #tossawary commentary

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Hi! I’m confused on how to reconcile dick’s origins and his loving family with the haly’s circus is a tool of the court of owls info. How does dick’s childhood not become horrifying and fake if the court of owls were using the circus the whole time? Ppl that dick knew and friends with were probably evil right? Idk... have a great day, sorry for my rant lol-confused anon

Honestly, as many times as the circus comes up in canon, its very rarely been explored in detail so it really just depends on how you play it, I think. For me, the difference is complicitness. If the Court of Owls is heavily invested in Haly’s Circus and manipulates where they go and when and uses it as a training camp for their future assassins in a lot of ways, that unmistakably casts a pall over Dick’s childhood, it lends it a certain air of grim destiny....BUT that doesn’t have to equate to his childhood being a LIE....not if most of the people he loves and values from it were just genuinely good people who loved him and had no idea about the darker side of their circus. I think most of Haly’s performers had no clue, or don’t have to be portrayed as having one, and thus just because they were there, doesn’t mean they were complicit, and if they weren’t complicit, that’s what really matters when it comes to them.

That said, we know that numerous performers died young under mysterious circumstances, or disappeared when in their teens, and that these were the eventual Talons of the Court. BUT we also know that the Court wasn’t like....disappearing multiple performers at a time, and that the real secret of the Talons’ large numbers is their longevity and the fact that the Court had been doing this for a LONG time. So its not like Haly’s performers would have all been oblivious to a lot of their number just vanishing under mysterious circumstances, its more that the scarcity of it happening means it could very easily for a lot of the performers Dick knew as a child, been like, their own personal urban legend? Like, there’s an awareness that there’s something spooky or creepy associated with the circus, but not what exactly it is or why its that way, and there’s just enough deniability to it that for most performers, their personal reasons for staying with the circus outweighed the occasional reminder of this potentially creepy side of things, as a reason for them to leave.

I could easily see this playing into like, superstitions about Gotham in general, because performers who’d been with the circus their whole life or a long time or just had a stronger awareness of the disappearances in their history could’ve like, identified that these mysterious deaths or disappearances only seemed to happen when the circus went to Gotham, and like.....maybe there wasn’t enough info to know what it MEANT, exactly, or maybe some of them had connected some dots and had SUSPICIONS about it maybe having something to do with the creepy rhyme they heard when they were in Gotham once, about the Court of Owls, but without being sure who was safe to talk about this with, nobody ever really explored that idea in depth.....like, its one of those things where I feel like it could’ve been that the disappearances and ideas people had about what was behind them and all that, it was a Big Unsaid. Something that was present and there throughout the atmosphere of Haly’s at times, especially for older members of the troupes, but nobody really ever talked about it because just because they knew something was going on there doesn’t mean they knew what to SAY about it, or to whom....and these are the kinds of undercurrents that as a kid, Dick would likely have been oblivious to....or only aware of in hindsight.

Like, I could see him years later reflecting on how now that he thought about it, the others always got weird and nervous about shows in Gotham or even the possibility of them, and nobody seemed to like Gotham for some reason, but he never knew WHY....and then when his parents were killed, that could have very easily slotted into just like....affirming that vague idea of ‘only bad things happen to the circus and its members when we come to Gotham’ without him ever consciously feeling a need to further explore that idea or awareness around Gotham....because on a gut level, it felt like he’d already gotten confirmation about something that he and the rest of his circus had always known as a kind of truism, even if they didn’t know why, y’know?

The only real sticking point in all this (well actually there’s two) is first of all, Haly and his family. We know they had some awareness of all this, and there was the Book of Names, and like, Haly and his grandfather knew about the Court in actuality rather than just theory, but its very doubtful that there was anything sinister to this knowledge on Haly’s side of things at least, and it seems pretty clear he was just a pawn operating under duress. That’s my take anyway, like, and it doesn’t make it OKAY for him not to have said or done more, but it makes it a tragedy rather than a betrayal, kinda? Like, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and though there’s things he could have said or done to defy the Court and their using the circus to draw their Talons from, he was probably painfully aware that any expression of defiance was going to simply get him and his loved ones killed as an object lesson to whomever they replaced him with, without much more than a slight hiccup in their plans.

And this is where being aware of the transformative power of fanfic and using it with INTENT rather than just going with the most utilized fanon tropes, like, is your best friend. Because thanks to all the gaps and superficiality in how a lot of this was touched on and dealt with in canon....you can make whatever you want out of it, all the more definitively if you know precisely what you want TO make out of it.

For instance: do you want to preserve Dick’s memories of Haly as a kind, grandfatherly figure in his life, someone who would never have stood idly by and allowed the Court’s intended fate for him to happen? You can do that....by playing up the idea that Haly saw an opportunity come out of the tragedy of the Graysons’ death, to separate Dick from the circus, and thus the Court, like lean into the idea that he was all for notable public figure Bruce Wayne taking in Dick and thus keeping him in a new, bigger kind of spotlight the shadowy Court wouldn’t dare try and steal him from. Unless of course, he suspected that billionaire and old money Gothammite Bruce Wayne WAS a member of the Court, and that’s why he wanted to take Dick in, in the first place. Crap. Just thought of that, that’s an obstacle.

UNLESS unless! You have Haly trying all the more to get Dick to stay with them, at least until they’re out of Gotham again and he can end up in the CPS system of some other NON Gotham city, once Bruce does express an interest in taking in Dick, BECAUSE he thinks Bruce is a member of the Court, and so he’s so clearly afraid of Bruce for some reason that Bruce simply can’t reconcile with his own public image and can’t simply be simple fear of the upper class when Haly’s Circus is used to catering to such crowds and Haly’s always displayed an ability to navigate the currents of such shark-infested waters as the Circus’s ringmaster....no, this has to be something other than just public perceptions, Haly’s fear of Bruce and his intentions for Dick feels PERSONAL.

Which perhaps makes Bruce come to Haly then as Batman, reassure him from that angle....which could in turn make Haly open up to him then and there about the Court and their obsession with the Gray Son, when he’s aware then that public figure Bruce Wayne isn’t a member of the Court and CAN offer the somewhat dubious (and double-edged) protection of that spotlight, AND at the same time, that he’s not some dumbass, but the Batman, with superhero connections and resources all his own that he can use to hunt the Court from the shadows and protect Dick that way too.

Thus giving Bruce forewarning about the threat of the Court (and hopefully Dick too, as I don’t think with this kind of storyline, keeping him in the dark his ENTIRE childhood would be fair or a good idea, even if it is understandable, like, there’s different ways to play this, but that seems doomed to backfire if that’s the road taken there).

Another thought about Robin and his bright colors and impossible-to-deny presence here though, actually.....what if part of why Bruce allowed Dick to be Robin at all was because it enabled him to kinda....extend the public spotlight Dick was in, as a barrier against the Court taking him....to more than just their civilian personas? Like, if Bruce KNOWS that Dick never had even the possibility of a normal life because even without him coming into his life, the Court was always going to be there, waiting for an opportunity to claim him.....then training him as Robin, giving him field experience as Robin, suddenly takes on a WHOLE different perspective as its Bruce actively giving him the tools to protect himself from an extremely SPECIFIC threat and fate....one that could strike at any time, one that wasn’t guaranteed to wait until Dick was an adult to try and take him so Bruce felt he couldn’t afford to wait until he was older to try and prepare him to be able to fight back, if they ever did come for him. Plus, as Robin, he was a BRIGHT figure in ways that are completely contrary to Bruce’s early start as an urban legend himself, something that could just as easily not exist as exist as rumored. From the moment Robin was a confirmed quantity, however, people were going to notice when and if he disappeared.....thus making it all the more impossible for the Court to quietly disappear Dick Grayson or Robin, without the rest of the hero community noticing too.

Of course, then you have to reconcile this with Bruce firing Dick as Robin....but there’s ways to do that too. *Shrugs* Just musing as I go here, tbh.

Or you can take the road I’ve dabbled with few times, the idea that a big part of why Dick ended up in juvie in that origin, could fanfic-wise be explained by connecting that backstory to the New 52 presence of the Court, and mashing them together so that the Court actually pulled strings after the Graysons’ death to get their Gray Son placed there until ‘they were ready for him’ and in the process wean him away from the morals his parents instilled in him and hone his willingness to fight and even potentially kill, by placing him in a pressure-cooker of an environment aimed at making him into a weapon. But the point here, is this is another more concrete way that Bruce could have even unknowingly thrown a wrench into their plans, by encountering him when he escaped from juvie (something the Court might not have been expecting, having underestimated him) and this leading to him taking Dick in himself, no longer trusting the city or the system to do the job they’d promised to do when they claimed to be taking Dick away from the circus for his own good.

Here, even without knowing about the Court or its plans, you can lean into the idea that Bruce steered Dick away from their intentions for him simply by being a source and a reminder of kindness and kind people. Kinda play up the theme that rather than grow up to be their greatest asset, Dick grew up to be their greatest enemy instead, all due to the introduction of the one variable the Court hadn’t accounted for when trying to forge their ideal weapon....the kindness of a stranger.

My point with both these directions is.....even with the Court having a hand in Haly’s Circus and thus Dick’s childhood, that doesn’t HAVE to make Dick’s childhood, or his destiny, inherently a tragedy, because despite all the Talon fics out there, the fact remains that in canon, in the main timeline....Dick’s never actually ever been a Talon....he exists, much like he’s always aimed to exist....as a defiance of expectations, of determinism, of a fated destiny. And thus he embodies something he’s embraced over and over again, the idea that only he truly gets to decide who and what he is.....and by utilizing one of the above ideas in his backstory, you can put Haly or Bruce or both firmly on HIS side, and give them active roles in giving him the tools he needs to subvert the Court’s destiny for himself, and choose his own path.

So, ultimately IMO, the Court’s connection to Dick’s past really is just one more way in which his story can be what its always been....that of retaining his core self even in the face of tragedies, making a triumph out of resisting the world (or specific people in it)’s attempts to make him other than a hero.

(The other sticking point I mentioned, aside from Haly, is one I’ve never really been able to reconcile myself, because it relies so much on the ages DC tried to force down our throat with the New 52, and to which I say NAY, NAY DC, DICK GRAYSON WAS NOT SIXTEEN WHEN HE MET BRUCE WAYNE, THIS IS NOT A JOEL SCHUMACHER PRODUCTION AND YOU DON’T HAVE THAT WACKY AND INEXPLICABLE CHARM.

And that’s the presence of other acrobats who aren’t part of the Flying Grayson family act, like Raya and Raymond, who we ultimately see as being very aware of the Court of Owls by the time Dick becomes aware of them. And like. There’s a lot going on there, and I don’t entirely know how to make it work but largely because I’ve never been all that inclined or inspired to try, so I mostly just let that be, and lift elements of the Court of Owls and transplant them into and over pre-Flashpoint continuity, which I prefer overall anyway).

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burninglilys · 4 years

Text

if i stay here, i'll never leave

just a tiny canon-compliant pangwave fic of wave finding his way to pang. title is from the national’s ‘sea of love’.

Pang sees himself as the hero, the protagonist, the saviour. He sees himself as the only victim suffering under the unfair system; the only one with enough courage to do something about it.

Wave hates him.

He hates the holier-than-thou attitude Pang carries himself with. He hates everything about him – the fact that Pang can control him, the fact that he can bend the world to his will, the fact that the world never needed any bending to mould in a way that fits Pang best.

Wave had to fit in. He had to crawl into the space that was designed for him in the grand scheme of things, bend and break his bones to belong and bar entry to anyone who dares come near it just to preserve that suffocating space.

Wave still has to. That has not changed.

(But God, does he want it to. He wants to tear the collapsing space designed for him with his bare hands and untwist himself in a way he’s always dreamt of.)

Pang, on the other hand, broke the mould he was designed for with a flick of his fingers, and carved a space for himself with the same self-righteous determination burning his eyes when he had first crashed into Wave; the same self-righteous determination that he sees burning embers in his eyes now.

Pang wants to change the system. Pang believes that he is a part of something bigger than the litany they have been designed for.

Wave hates him.

(Pang believes that Wave is a part of something bigger too. He believes in him, despite it all. Wave doesn’t know what to do with that.)

Wave hates how Pang ignites the need for bringing about a change in him – the one he feels resonating inside his bones.

Wave hates that Pang is right.

Wave hates that he believes in Pang a little more than he has ever hated him.

Wave hates that he wants to stand beside Pang when they burn the draconian system down.

It would be fitting, Wave thinks, his gaze lingering on the same person who breathes revolution as easy as he smiles. It would be fitting to stand beside him and tear the predestined positions created for them with their bare teeth.

It would be fitting to stay beside him through it all.

***

Pang sees himself as the hero despite the layers of insecurities he carries himself with. Pang sees Wave as something extraordinary.

Pang sees them both as the only people capable enough to bring about a change that would set fire to the breeding ground for hatred and injustice.

Wave is reluctantly inclined to agree.

“You really think that this is going to work,” Wave states, watching Pang stand in front of his bulletin board.

The evening light filtering through the window makes Pang look incredibly soft around the sharp edges he pretends he doesn’t have.

Wave’s gaze lingers longer than necessary.

“I don’t,” Pang says easily, with a nervous twitch of his finger and the quick inhale that he stifles in a moment.

Pang does that, sometimes, trying to hide the reactions he deems unfit.

Wave sees it anyway. He’s always looking at Pang these days.

Wave cannot look away.

(At some point he realises just how deep his feelings run for Pang, superimposing over his entire being in the most obtrusive way possible.)

(His stupid feelings can wait, though. They have more important things to accomplish right now.)

“I’m not going to stop trying until something changes,” Pang says with a nervous roll of his shoulders. “We are not going to stop trying until it changes for the better,” he says with a smile meant to assure only those around him.

Wave would rather die than be compared to the ordinary others around Pang. He doesn’t say as much.

“Or until the Director dies,” Wave says nonchalantly, coming to stand beside Pang.

Pang gives him a disapproving look despite the laughter dancing in the depths of his eyes and his shoulders lose the tight posture. Pang lets his self-assurance crack, just enough to let the sliver of doubt beam through.

This is Wave’s first time making a connection with someone who has seen him at his absolute worst and decided that he is worth it anyway. Wave wants to cherish it, nurture it, hold it the way it deserves to be held.

Wave has no idea how.

He holds Pang’s shoulders and feels him tense before he melts completely under his fingers.

“We’re not giving up,” Wave assures and hopes that it is enough. “We’ve got so far. There is no way we’re giving up.”

“Even if we lose?“

"Even if we lose."

***

They lose.

Pang sees himself as a dumb kid from Class 8. Pang seems happier than what he was the first time they’d met, but Wave knows him better than that. Pang loses the spark of the revolution that had always glowed from within him. Pang looks like he’s always somewhere far away. Pang is completely different.

Wave loves him all the same.

There is no way that he’s giving up.

***

None of the Gifted classmates (friends, he thinks reluctantly, joyously) has to be forced and convinced to join on-board once the plan is laid out in front of them.

Pang had been sure of that when they’d prepared for the worst-case scenario in five different ways, each on differing levels of complexity.

"You won’t even have to convince them,” Pang had said. “You don’t see them, Wave. They think that there’s no way but this."

Wave had not felt the need to see anyone before.

He had looked away from Pang, his heart stone heavy, and had looked towards the sky littered in heavy grey clouds.

The atmosphere at the terrace had felt oppressive somehow, that day. Wave can still taste that air. It had always felt uncomfortable preparing for the worst-case scenarios.

"You think that they’d be willing if they know that there’s a way out of this,” Wave states.

“I know that,” Pang had said, a familiar firm determination set in his eyes. “They’re good people, Wave."

Pang and his willingness to believe in the good of everyone. It would be their downfall one day, Wave was sure of that.

"We’ll see,” Wave had answered.

***

Pang gets his memories back.

Wave gets his best friend back.

Wave sees Pang as a leader, a just person willing to bend the world for everyone that it wasn’t made for. Wave sees Pang as a brilliant man with a heart big enough to encompass everyone, willing to fight for everyone and anyone. Wave sees Pang embody strength, courage, determination, and justice all in one. Wave sees Pang as someone always, always putting others before himself, choosing to pick the best possible option even though it harms him. Wave sees Pang losing himself, losing Namtan, losing everyone again, finding everyone again, and trying again and again.

Wave sees Pang for himself. Wave loves him.

The feeling – known two years in the making, pulling the ground from underneath him one moment in the making – chokes him, throws his world off the axis until it is tilted enough to fit, until the feeling blooms and blooms and he feels it peeking out of all the stitches of his tattered self until it consumes him whole.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Pang asks, leaning against the fold of his elbows, two chairs away from his.

“Nothing!” Wave says – not squeaks because he doesn’t squeak – leaning over to drape his jacket over his shoulders.

Pang holds his wrist. Wave’s heart thunders in his chest.

“Wave.”

“Aye, shit Pang! Why are you making this weird?"

"Wave,” Pang says, pulling his wrist closer to him.

Wave is – as always – helplessly pulled by him.

“What is going on?"

Pang sounds genuinely concerned. Wave reminds himself that they’re essentially in the middle of a war and that they’d have plenty of time to talk about his embarrassing feelings – after.

"Nothing,” he repeats.

Pang’s eyes search his for a moment before he lets go of Wave’s wrist.

Wave leans forward to thread their fingers together.

Pang’s eyes widen and his breath hitches.

“Wave?” Pang asks, scooting forward.

(Now is not the time, Wave tells himself. They’re at war. Later. Later. Later.)

“I understand P'Chanon a lot more now,” Wave replies.

(But when?)

Pang’s eyes widen a little more. He presses their fingers together.

(If not now, then when? Wave thinks. They’re always going to be at war.)

“I’d do the same if it was you,” Wave says, trying not to let the nerves flood through.

Pang’s eyes are filled to the brim with shock, before realisation dawns on him, tinted by something akin to hope.

Wave moves to tighten their fingers. Pang beats him to that.

“You mean that?” Pang asks in a whisper. “Because if you don’t, then I’m going to embarrass myself by being stupidly happy, Wave. Wave, tell me you mean it."

"I do,” Wave replies as if there was any question about it.

Pang stands and sits on the chair right beside Wave.

He leaves Wave’s hands and clasps his face between his hands. “Oh my god,” Pang whispers, looking into his eyes. “You really do. You really mean it.”

Wave feels raw and open in front of him. Wave has never felt safer.

“I do,” Wave says. “Pang, there’s nothing in the world that I wouldn’t do for you."

Pang leans forward to press their foreheads together.

Wave’s eyes flutter close.

"Me, too,” Pang says, his voice devoid of any trepidation. “If it wasn’t blatantly obvious. I feel the same."

Wave can feel Pang’s eyes on him. He wraps his fingers around Pang’s wrists and holds him tight.

"I like you,” Wave says, because he has to say it. Has to put it out there before it swallows him whole. He looks into Pang’s bright eyes and sees relief and affection swimming in them.

“I like you too,” Pang replies with a soft smile as if it is that simple.

(It is. It really is.)

Outside, the war will continue like it always does. They’ll lose and then win, and then hang somewhere in between and then lose and then win again and again. They’ll begin the beginning, over and over.

It is fitting that Wave gets to stand beside Pang through it all.

#the gifted #the gifted graduation #pangwave #pang x wave #thai drama #pangwave fics #the gifted fics #tgg #gmmtv #chimon wachirawit #nanon korapat #may.writes

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