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wovenstarlight · 1 year

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Hello! I'm thinking about your cached AU again and I was wondering, what is Yoojin's relationship with Song Taewon with like? Because their relationship in canon (at least up to where I've read) is heavily influenced by the fact that Yoojin is an F rank who holds power over S Ranks, making him both a threat and someone to protect. Does Taewon just go red alert whenever Yoojin around now? Does Yoojin keep trying to be friends with him? Does Taewon find that terrifying?

HAHAHAHAHHA. OH BOY. THIS SURE IS A QUESTION THAT HAS AN ANSWER. a very long answer so i'm putting it under a cut. thanks for waiting and im sorry if its incoherent its like 6ish local time. or maybe not im not very concerned wth reading clocks rn

(on ao3)

——

Be careful.

Taewon had wondered, when he received that message from Sung Hyunjae, if it was some sort of joke. A sly way of telling him he’d made trouble somewhere and he’d better prepare for the incoming paperwork, perhaps. The fact that it had been encoded suggested some degree of seriousness to it, but it was vague enough that he’d dismissed it and gotten ready for this long-delayed meeting.

Taewon locks eyes with Han Yoojin and is immediately struck by the complete lack of fear he finds there. So much so that he barely notices when Sung Hyunjae crushes his car with the breezy efficiency of a compactor.

And even as Sung Hyunjae gets out of his own car, even as he turns that amused, glittering gaze onto Han Yoojin, no apprehension sparks to life. No nerves. Just a cool, faintly disappointed look that he turns on the Seseong Guild Leader.

It stops the man in his tracks. Song Taewon blinks at Sung Hyunjae, faint smile frozen on his face, and looks back at Han Yoojin, who’s gazing at him now with a welcoming smile on his face.

…So that was a real warning, then.

Surely it can’t be for what Taewon thinks it is.

—

Taewon was told Han Yoojin was an A-rank. While the Hunter Association staff had confirmed his stats were well within standard range, they’d also made no secret of gossiping about how even the A-rank he’d come in with had looked vaguely spooked. How Han Yoojin carried himself with that unthinking confidence and grace all S-ranks had. How, when Seok Gimyeong had gone to personally take him through the registration process, Han Yoojin’s expression had gone flat and stony, and while he’d cooperated, something in his demeanor had had everyone around him going quiet and hurrying through the steps as fast as possible.

What it boils down to, in the end, is a sense that he’s not what he seems.

What Taewon thinks it is, quite simply, is a high-rank fear-inducing skill. Han Yoojin has no reason to claim he’s lower-ranked than he actually is, not when being higher-ranked would mean getting fast-tracked to a much better lifestyle than what he had before.

What Taewon realizes upon meeting Han Yoojin is that either he was very, very wrong about the other man’s ambition (or lack thereof, as it happens), or that the fear induction skill is far more potent than anyone let on.

“Chief Song-nim?”

Taewon stares at Han Yoojin. He’s merely standing there with a bag of instant coffee in hand, gazing at Taewon over his shoulder, and yet, if Taewon’s phone was in his hand right now, he’d probably have crushed it. As it is, he realizes distantly, his nails are digging little crescents into his palms. “Han Yoojin-ssi,” he gets out, and then stalls immediately.

He’d come here with the assumption that Han Yoojin was an A-rank. Which means all his questions (I wanted to check, are you safe, are you being pressured, why did such a high-rank monster appear in a dungeon with only two S-ranks in it and how did you kill it anyway?) were tailored for an A-rank. For someone that needed protection.

Is something wrong, he’d wanted to ask.

Is something wrong with you? is what his mind supplies now.

“Are you—alright,” he manages eventually.

Han Yoojin stares back at him, fingers tensing faintly around the bag as Taewon speaks. “I… yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“…With… the Babar’s appearance in that last dungeon.” It gets easier to speak once he’s started. “And all the higher-ranks you’ve been around lately. I’d understand if you were feeling—stressed, or strained.”

“Ah.” Han Yoojin relaxes. “No, I’m alright. It’s been quite busy, but I’ve adjusted well enough, I think. Thank you for your concern.”

Truth, Taewon thinks. He seems too confident for it to be anything but. But how can that be? To face an SS-rank monster as a supposed A-rank—

“Are you sure?”

Han Yoojin glances at him out of the corner of his eye. The tension isn’t back, but there’s a frown tugging at his lips. Taewon forcibly uncurls the fists his hands have balled into, and continues. He needs a reference. He needs to know what Han Yoojin looks like when he’s lying. “The Babar alone was an SS-rank, and you may have had your brother and ward with you, but even then, facing such a monster as an A-rank—”

And there it is, the slightest creases around his eyes, how he looks down and to the side slightly before meeting Taewon’s gaze once more, lips thinning into a line. Taewon’s so busy thinking over their conversation so far, matching these markers against what’s been said, that he doesn’t realize what he’s saying—

“…seeing them fight… They may be your family, but they’re S-ranks before that. Which makes them dangerous, more than you know—”

Until it’s too late.

“What are you trying to say, Chief Song-nim?” Han Yoojin asks, letting go of the bag of coffee and turning to face him properly. His voice has taken on a sharp edge, and Taewon steps backwards before he even consciously acknowledges the sound. Han Yoojin just steps forward to match, bringing him dangerously close— “If there’s a point to this, I’d like if you could—”

Taewon has a hand around his throat.

Han Yoojin raises a hand (touching? grabbing?). Seize his wrist, twist his arm, shift the grip on his neck, until Han Yoojin is pinned face-down against the counter, cheek pressed against its surface.

Then Taewon realizes he’d moved to begin with.

“…What are you doing?”

Han Yoojin’s flat question kills Taewon’s hasty apology before it can even leave his mouth. His grip tightens instead of loosening. Some quiet part of his brain is counting out the handful of people and low-rank Hunters present in the building today. A much louder part of his mind says he’s testing the hold.

Han Yoojin flexes his hand again, shifting easily even in Taewon’s grip, and he—

He panics.

Looting flares, black not-smoke wreathing his fingers and Han Yoojin’s limbs. Vague surprise flickers over Han Yoojin’s face before his eyes rise to a point in the air before himself, likely checking his status window. Whatever he sees there has his eyes widening sharply.

And then, all at once, something closes off in his face, and he goes limp.

A different kind of alarm spikes through the white-out fear in Taewon’s mind and he tilts his head to get a better look at Han Yoojin’s face. There’s a tightness around his eyes, still, lips pressed together like he’s bracing for something. But when those eyes flick up to meet Taewon’s stare, there’s also a dull sort of… familiarity?

No, not familiarity.

Resignation.

Taewon feels sick. He all but rips his hands off Han Yoojin, backing away hastily. There’s already shadows on his skin where Taewon’s fingers had pressed against it. There’ll be bruises there by tonight. Earlier, even, because—how long had he had Looting active?

He can’t remember. He can’t remember the last time he lost control like that. His stomach twists. He feels sick.

Han Yoojin still hasn’t moved. Taewon tries to remember how tightly he was gripping his neck.

And then Han Yoojin slowly, slowly draws his arm to his side again, pushes off the counter with his other hand, and straightens back up. A pause. Then he turns, just a little, so he can look at Taewon.

They stare at each other in silence like that for a moment.

Then, in a thin voice: “Interesting skill you have there.”

Taewon’s breath catches. Han Yoojin doesn’t seem to notice as he tilts his head slightly and opens his mouth again.

“Why’d you stop?”

…

Taewon—

Taewon leaves, after that.

He doesn’t remember what he says. What he does. Han Yoojin has a knack for disabling his rational mind, it seems.

What he does know is this: that Han Yoojin’s voice, when he asked that question, was genuinely curious. Perhaps even a little pleading.

What he does know, looking back, is that Han Yoojin didn’t try to pull away. He shifted in Taewon’s hold, yes, and in his panic Taewon overreacted. But he never tried to break free.

(What Taewon doesn’t know if he wants to know is this:

How does a man like Han Yoojin end up feeling resignation?)

#cached au #my sranks #answered #licilou22 #star.txt #guy who has problems disorder meets guy who has problems disorder. what happens next will shock you #spoiler: they are going to have so many fucking problems. Together 🤝#i... hope this answers your question...?#re: protection/threat dilemma: stw's super on edge around him and it makes him lash out in panic sometimes #because hes used to the worst threats being shj or hyh level. and hyj is double that Minimum #but because hyj also presents as Just An A-Rank and genuinely seems like a decent guy + Actually Has A Moral Code #stw's Really Fucked Up about how he reacts to him. so he's just kind of ?!??!?!?! about him #eventually the fear will ebb as he gets used to it. and then he'll be more okay around him. but for now [sucks air through teeth] Nnnhh. No #meanwhile hyj is. not having a good time either. a reprieve from the constant burden/reminder of his brother's death? check #being thrown around and threatened and generally made to feel unsafe in what should be safe company and a safe place? check #just your- whats the phrase kdj used. just some ordinary trauma #hyj is a biiit more hesitant abt befriending him here but stw's formal/polite worksona is so strong that eventually he lets down his guard #which in turn makes stw relax more around him cuz hyj starts being Friendly instead of just Polite #so yes i guess they'll be friends. eventually. ...Very eventually

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divine-draws · 2 years

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Can I know more about this shindeku AU?

yesss thank you for asking!! I don't have like a huge amount thought out but this is what I've got so far. CW: mentions of suicidal ideology etc., mentions of bullying. all the content under the cut cause it gets long but tldr; izuku never goes to UA, never gets OFA, AFO was already defeated, shinsou (adopted by aizawa and yamada) follows the same path as in canon, later becomes an emt and in high school starts being a vigilante, izuku is a pain in aizawa's ass, meets shinsou starts dating and shinsou realizes that his bf is a vigilante and the meet the parents is very awkward bc aizawa recognizes the little shit he has to chase down often

basically, midoriya izuku is nothing if not stubborn and determined. even through relentless bullying, suicide baiting, and even being turned down by his idol he still never Really gave up his dreams to be a hero. i think he went through a REALLY rough period after all might told him no (he also never saw the sludge monster get bakugou so no power offer... not to mention for simplicity's sake afo is defeated before this). also vague mention of maybe he had a VERY BAD DAY or just a fucking horrible one but no injury minus that run in with the sludge monster. not necessary but eh you see it how you want to there. either way he never applies to UA. he goes to a normal high school and has normal aspirations and inko while relieved her son is choosing a less dangerous route feels fucking horrible because izuku just isnt himself. second or third year, though, he takes a 180. he's happier, he's working out a lot, he's investing in his health with food, and he has aspirations to work as an emt later. inko is relieved. unkown to her, izuku is out there fighting the good fight as a vigilante. he spent a little too much time online, got inspired by underground heroes like eraserhead and known vigilantes and said FUCK THIS and decided he's gunna be a vigilante. he is sort of not doing anything illegal but the whole crime fighting even without a quirk isnt like... that legal. he doesnt give a shit. even if eraserhead is highly concerned and also too tired to deal with this. there's a begrudging relationship and izuku becomes such a little shit. izuku helps him out and saves his ass at least once and aizawa doesnt arrest him so all is well. izuku also uses his job as an emt to his advantage for his vigilante work

now for shinsou, he follows basically the same path as in canon. he's also adopted by aizawa and yamada and is more than happy to have a little sister in eri. once he goes pro, hitoshi is obviously an underground hero like eraserhead. he has heard of the vigilante dekiru (i mean who hasnt really but aizawa complains about him enough) but has yet to actually SEE the guy. before he meets the vigilante, though, he has a pretty rough fight with some villains. when the emts arrive on the seen who is there but izuku. his hero worship has died down a LOT and he can be professional as he cares for hitoshi but hitoshi can def tell this guy is practically vibrating once he makes sure he's all good. he's cute and sweet and blushes a deep crimson when hitoshi points out his excitement and admits that he's surprised he has any fans to begin with. i mean the point was to stay unknown anyway. izuku shyly admits that he's been following him and his class since they first showed up on their first year sports festival. if hitoshi keeps vague tabs on the very caring and cute emt that's his business alone. funny enough izuku just so happens to run into him a few more times on the job. im not sure when they start dating. maybe it's around here? they meet off the job and continue to hit it off and then they go out finally. maybe it's later but either works

finally, hitoshi meets dekiru. him and izuku have been dating for a while. it's nice and he hasn't been happier and his friends are pestering the shit out of him to meet the mysterious boyfriend and his dads are also nudging him to invite him over to dinner one day (eri is instant as well). but hitoshi gets his shit ROCKED during a fight. the villains knew his quirk and anticipated it and while he's normally on his A game, he still gets fucked up. and then in comes dekiru saving the day as hitoshi lays there bleeding and concussed. the voice muffled by the mask is soothing and familiar and the sturdy hands are caring and gentle as they move from his face down his body as the vigilante checks him over for all of his injuries and he's having a hard time paying attention to what dekiru says but all he can think about is izuku and says as much as the vigilante looks at him with worry and calls for an ambulance. izuku is there later at the hospital and so are his dads and his sister and izuku and aizawa are sharing some odd looks and this was NOT how he wanted the meet the parents to go but oh fucking well... it takes some healing and a lot of dot connecting to make the conclusion of who izuku is on his off time and that explains the bruising and scars and random injuries that his boyfriend waves off constantly... he's not surprised per say and he isnt going to scold izuku or break up with him just a little upset he never told him.

the next big thing is introducing him to his friends which... well he hopes wont be more awkward or a mess than izuku meeting his dads. (spoilers: it's a shitshow and also hilarious in equal parts)

anyway if anyone wants to write a fic about this PLEASE do (and it would be great if you credited me with the idea) i would LOVE to read it and draw more art for it and even collab on ideas etc if you were interested. im shit at follow-through when it comes to writing and love reading ppls stuff

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todomitoukei · 3 years

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hey im kinda confused abt the hpsc and i feel like you could explain it pretty well. is the theory that they’re corrupt and the real villains based in canon or is it just fanon? bc from what i remember they were only mentioned pretty vaguely, so i feel like i might have missed a chapter or something...if it’s based in canon, could you tell me where? (if it’s not too much trouble ofc)

It’s not canon per se, but it’s a theory based on what we know about the HPSC thus far along with some other factors.

As for the HPSC, their job is basically to manage the interactions between heroes and society. In a way, they are the PR team for heroes as a whole. They are also responsible for coordinating the heroes teams with the police, high-profile cases, as well as the provisional hero license exams. We don’t know exactly how one obtains their license to be a Pro Hero but considering the HPSC hands out the provisional licenses, they most likely also take care of the real thing.

With that, they have a lot of control over everything, almost like someone playing chess, with the heroes, police, villains, and civilians being their pawns.

We got a better look at the HPSC once Hawks was introduced, specifically when we got the flashback of him being given his undercover job. There are two noteworthy points from that scene.

The first one being that the HPSC is okay with casualties, giving Hawks the permission to ignore the victims, while he befriends the villains. The HPSC places its importance on the greater good, rather than trying to save everyone.

The second part is about Hawks and his overall role for the HPSC. Though they call it a proposal, Hawks points out that he isn’t given a choice here.

Similar to Eri’s current appearance, people have different opinions on whether using children for the hero side is right or wrong, considering that Eri agreed to use her quirk on Mirio, and Hawks wanted to become a hero.

We don’t have the full picture of what this “special program” that Hawks was a part of entailed, and whether or not he was the only one in it. Although, concerning the last part, we don’t really see any heroes his age so it feels like Hawks was the only one part of this “program” and was always anticipated to be used as the HPSC’s secret weapon. Officially, he’s a hero, but in reality, the HPSC has a lot more control over him than any other hero. Part of that is also shown through his hero outfit, which features the HPSC logo on his shirt.

Keep in mind, Hawks was a kid when he got taken in by the commission. They saw a vulnerable child that happened to have a strong quirk that could be useful to them, so they took said child and turned it into the hero he is now for their own advantages.

Aside from Hawks and Eri, we also have U.A. and any other hero school. While this hasn’t really been addressed by society in the story aside from when Bakugou got kidnapped, this is a high school, which means the students are 15-18 years old. Although the story does tell us that hero students encountering actual villains is a new occurrence, they are still children who get put through very intense training. In the most recent arc, they are being put on the front lines, even though their role was just to evacuate the civilians, it’s obvious from their mindsets and their sense of duty that they are not going to leave it as just that. As mentioned at the start, the HPSC is responsible for coordinating these types of situations so it was their decision to put these kids there. Even if you don’t see an issue with hero high schools like U.A. existing, I think we can all agree that there is something very wrong about putting teenagers on the front lines against the biggest terrorist organization in the country. Funnily enough, the one person to address this is a villain, Dabi:

It makes sense for someone like Dabi, who was created and raised as a mere pawn himself instead of being allowed a normal childhood, to be able to point out that sending kids to a fight like this is not okay.

Speaking of villains, since the USJ arc, the League of Villains has been presented to us as the main antagonists of the series, specifically Shigaraki as the successor to All For One, since Deku, the protagonist, is the successor of One For All. But over time, the members of the League of Villains have been shown to us as being very layered, sympathetic people. Shigaraki has found his own reasons for doing what he does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has always been and continues to be nothing but a vessel for All For One.

Despite the fact that All For One in his current state technically can’t do much, especially not without Shigaraki, him still being around and still saying that Shigaraki isn’t complete yet shows us that All For One is still the bigger threat and we haven’t seen the last of him. When it comes to the question of how can Shigaraki redeem himself, he would first need to realize that he is just being used by All For One. Because the main difference between him and Dabi is that the latter has recognized that he was only used and is now fighting back, whereas Shigaraki hasn’t become aware of that yet. To redeem himself, he not only has to realize this but also figure out how to break away from All For One. Unlike Dabi, he can’t just leave, since All For One can possess him from the comfort of his highly secured cell.

Speaking of Dabi, some people are also theorizing that the HPSC knew about Touya and helped cover up his death, but that this is unconfirmed so while I’m not ruling it out (according to Endeavor he did search for Touya instead of immediately accepting his death so they most likely do know about it but whether they knew the circumstances that have led to this is unknown), I wouldn’t count it as evidence for the time being.

Circling back to the students of U.A., after the USJ arc the rumors of a possible traitor came up, and after Bakugou got kidnapped, we got this meeting between the HPSC and the police, where they first mention that they will need to make some changes.

Later on, Principal Nezu tells us that, though officially the dorm system is for the students’ safety, it’s also so that they (the HPSC and police) can investigate in secret, with both the teachers and the students being possible suspects.

The story hasn’t exactly mentioned this since or explained how exactly they investigate in secret. We do know that there are robots with motion detectors/cameras on campus that report any kind of movement to the teachers, like when Bakugou and Deku had their fight outside. But what about in the dorms? Are there hidden cameras? Maybe even in the rooms? We don’t know that yet, part it’s still a fact that the HPSC even suspects the kids and puts them in dorms under false pretense when in reality it’s easier for surveillance/control reasons.

So to sum it up, the HPSC has a lot of control and they make sure to keep it that way and get even more control. Of course, considering that it is their job to keep the country safe, it is more or less expected of them. But they more often than not show that they have no issue with using child soldiers, and they are also okay with casualties. Overall, they are a corrupt organization in many ways. With the current arc, especially Dabi calling out Endeavor and thus possibly (hopefully) making society question heroes a little more, it would then also make sense for the HPSC to be questioned, though probably at a later point in the story and not quite yet. However, in order for that to happen, people on the hero side first have to start recognizing these flaws and start questioning the current system that is in place.

#also thank you for thinking i can explain this well?!#hope this helped!!#bnha #ask #also reminds me of psycho pass #meta #i think before the story focuses on that it's going to focus on criticizing the heroes first though #and then eventually realizing how the hpsc plays into that #me-meta #Anonymous

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filipinoizukuu · 3 years

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Hey! I'm making a meta on bakudeku proof and i was wondering if you could help! I have a lot of subtext proof (like the looks and reading into kacchans 'complaints' about deku) but not a lot of actual text proof? I was wondering if you had any evidence of bakudeku being romantic you could cite so I can add it to my meta? I'm working through the manga right now but stuff from the light novels is appreciated also! Please and thank you!

oh man evidence of bakudeku being romantic... its a bit of a vague request but i'll try my best!! my thoughts are kinda fast and messy so this is also me trying to organize it for myself so this might end up being a bit of a meta post in and of itself, so brace yourselves lol

as much as i joke about it... its hard to say definitively that any relationship in mha that is not already confirmed is inherently "romantic-coded". as for student relationships, the furthest we get is uraraka's crush (which, to many people, seems less like the final love interest with full devotion and more like those petty crushes you develop in highschool like most teenagers do).

i wont really use tropes as "canon proof" bc mha isn't really like most shonen animes i've seen and horikoshi... for lack of better words, is better off writing romance when he isn't consciously trying to. (no offense if somehow by some god given reason, sensei is reading this. you have many many other talents, sir.)

thing is... there about absolutely no canon mha relationships that get enough screen time for reference. If they do, they are likely to be portrayed as 'incomplete', unhealthy, or as a gag. because of this, i couldn't really find a way to match the standards of what constitutes as "romantic" in mha's canon.

so i ended up googling what makes a good romance.

first of all, looking at all the things that make up what a proper "romance" would be, I guess its important to start at the core elements. Every 'good and well-written' relationship at its core should have trust, respect, concern, and of course... love.

we know that bkdk trust and respect each other. we go as far as to say that they care for each other and look up to each other.

Deku's an open book. He's always adored Katsuki since the beginning and has told us time and time again that he's his hero. As time went on, we know that Deku's come to severely care for Katsuki (that Kamino scream, anyone?) and trust him even with the secret All Might made him swear not to tell anyone.

As for Bakugou, a lot of his character development has been marked by milestones in his relationship with Deku. The greatest reminder throughout the series of his past misgivings and flaws was his relationship with Deku. In improving and working through his history with Izuku, we see a lot of major indications like Katsuki slowly being able to trust and rely on Deku--as well as care for him and deeply know him.

i dont have screenshots on hand bc im like. in class rn but heres a good comp.

- hand-holding parallels

- deku's kamino scream (+ "give him back"/"deku dont come"

- both dvks

- "it's okay if its you"

- "i couldn't imagine a world without kacchan"

- ch 284-285

- black whip's reveal and black whip training

- "atonement"

- bkgs distrust for all might

these are the ones i think have the most er. "romantic"...? implications!! im not really sure what else to say about this topic because i dont believe any of these things can definitively code bkdk as romantic because of how "finnicky" the standards of a canon romance are in MHA which makes it very poor for me to write meta on!! hope this helps <3

#asks #anon #bkdk #bkdk meta #bnha meta #mha meta

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creacherkeeper · 3 years

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ok luka how about you gimme ALL THE ANSWERS about erley for that d&d question thingy from a billion years ago :D :D

YOU WISH IS MY COMMAND MY DEAR <333

huge question dump under the cut skgjnsdg. casey NO LOOKING

what kind of clothing does your character like to wear? do they have a style? anything they avoid wearing?

erley dresses in cowboy clothes of course!! :D the actual reason for this is. sad. because i had to make literally everything about them tragic to punish the friend who forced me to play them <3 but basically in this world there was a huge (some would say ongoing) war between the elf country and the country we are playing our game in. erley is originally from the elf country, but came to the new country when their father was exiled. erley basically dresses like a cowboy even though they arent a cowboy anymore because its?? distracting?? to people. people think its funny or stupid or entertaining or cool and they pay less attention to the fact that erley is a high elf of age to have fought in the war. basically people see the outfit and the accent and not the elf. its camouflage, for their own safety

what's their current hairstyle? has it changed? do they change it often?

i think it was probably very long when they were a child in typical high elf fashion, but was cut short during the exile. i think most of the barbarians keep their hair short except perhaps high ranking members. erley now keeps their hair around chin length (and kind of wavy/curly) which is not super typical for an elf, to kind of keep a mental distance from both the high elves and the barbarians

is your character more articulate in their thoughts than their words? if yes, do they do anything about that? do they care?

i think erleys thoughts are very like. feeling/abstract/image based and less word based. which means they can definitely have trouble trying to translate that into words. i didnt intend for this at first, but due to like. SO many bad rolls. its pretty canon at this point that erley has just awful self insight. so their ACTUAL feelings and motivations, vs what they THINK their feelings and motivations are, vs their words and actions, are ... all ... not super lined up much of the time (see: last game, actual motivation: romantic crush and trauma projection, their self perceived motivation: hurt and concern, what everyone now thinks: distrust of another party member)

would your character sing along to a vaguely familiar song, even if they messed up the lyrics as they went?

there is only one time they wouldve been comfortable enough to sing in front of people and it wouldve been with the cowboys. and it would have been after much pressure and prodding. they are really not a singer

if they wear any, how does your character go about applying makeup? (methodically, nervously, messily, etc)

they dont wear makeup! theyre nonbinary but dont really make any effort not to be masc. dysphoria has never really been an issue for them, and theyre not really drawn to feminine presentation

do they usually sleep in a certain pose? does it change?

they trance since theyre an elf, but so far whenever its been stated in game its been sitting up against something, like a wall or a tree. or at the table of an inn if they dont want to pay for a room skdjgn. i think it would probably be lying down, fetal position if they were REALLY tired. also i keep seeing photos of people napping with cows and im like FIND STEED WHEN. LET ERLEY NAP WITH COW

how would they react to eating something that was spicier than they expected it to be?

i dont think they have any problem with spice

are their hands steady?

if theyre upset, no. their hands trembling is one of their big tells. theyre not really a crier since that was pretty harshly punished in their childhood, and they had to live in survival mode for so long that their bad emotions pretty much lead to emotional shut down and physical symptoms over anything else

if someone gave them flowers, what would they do with them?

blush A LOT probably and pretend they arent as touched by it as they are. they pretend theyre not a huge romantic but they are. very sappy. 100% one of the flowers is going in the cowboy hat band though

would they sneak out at night to look at the sky? how long would they stay there looking?

due to trancing, they usually have a decent amount of time to themselves at night. this is Big Scary Thoughts time and also when they usually try (and fail) to talk to their goddess

how do they feel about casual endearments? (babe, etc)

i dont think anyone has ever referred to them that way but i think they'd be very on board for it. again, theyre very sappy, theyre just also very inexperienced

what color would they paint their room? would there be a design on the ceiling?

i dont think at this point they would change whatever color the room happened to already be in. theyve never really been able to settle down and make something homey before. but if they were in a better mental state, probably dark green. or rose gold, which is the color of their goddess and their magic

what helps them fall asleep when they're having trouble doing so?

that is. a hard question. this baby boi can fit so much trauma in them. honestly i think the answer is knowing that they need rest for whatever task theyre trying to accomplish. i think they sleep better when they have to. when things are quiet they tend to get lost in their thoughts

do they tend to run hot or cold? do they do anything to deal with that?

i think they run warm. in my head its pretty typical of sun elves. they dont wear armor or heavy clothing so i dont think it tends to be an issue most of the time

what's a sound they can't stand?

gun shots / cannon fire <3

would they draw patterns in frosted windows/fogged up mirrors? what would they draw?

i think they definitely would have when they were a little kid. after the exile, i dont think they do anymore

do they fidget? how and/or with what?

i dont think they really fidget much. with their father, i think a lot of their survival technique was just keeping their head down and being as quiet and unnoticeable as possible. because of this i dont think they tend to move around much or draw a lot of attention to themselves if they dont need to or they dont feel comfortable

would they sing a lullaby, if the opportunity arose?

if someone they cared about asked them to, they would. but theyd be very awkward about it lmao. i dont think they would outside of that circumstance

do they see patterns in the world around them? do they point them out to people?

erley is still very much learning their way in the world. their dad kept them very sheltered in very specific ways. i dont think their brain is necessarily pattern oriented, but if they did notice something im not sure they would point it out unless it was pertinent to a mission. theyd probably assume other people already knew that and theyre just catching up

do they like to keep plants/growing things in their space?

they definitely weren't allowed to when they were with their father, and havent settled down anywhere since being taken away. but their goddess is the grain goddess, goddess of agriculture! i think having a garden or farm or something and being able to settle down somewhere eventually (and feel safe doing so) is an ideal future for them

do they touch or mess with their hair/horns a lot?

not really. again, they dont really fidget. i think their only thoughts about their hair is like. huh, its been like a month since i washed my hair. okay gonna dunk my head in this river. all good now. (they were a barbarian and then a cowboy and then an adventurer their hygiene is NOT stellar. there was literally a scene where erley just stripped by a river, attempted to scrub sappy fey blood out of their clothes, couldnt get it out super well, and just put the same, still dirty, now wet clothes back on sdgjjsg)

when they speak, do they have a default tone of voice? if yes, do they try to change it? why?

this is actually a funny question for me right now, both because both my mains rn have southern accents, and because my own voice has changed so much in the last few months because of T. since my voice has been dropping its become much more apparent to me that i tend to pitch my voice higher when im doing erley voice (whereas bo speaks very low and slowly and kind of mumbles). since my range has condensed and lowered so much, erley's voice has also deepened but is now at the top of my comfortable range and sometimes fuzzes out if i get too high pitched. funnily enough, when we first started playing with these characters, the other players accidentally used he/him for erley a lot even though i didnt specify they were amab lmao. this was like. far before i started transitioning or even realized i was a guy (and before i was out as nonbinary to any of the party besides my dm)

do they wrap their arms around their stomach when it hurts?

only if no one is looking <3

what kind of bookmarks, if any, do they like to use?

do they keep books on their person? what kind?

do they write in their books? do they mind other people writing in their books? what do they write?

do they write often? why/what about?

so i'm gonna answer all these questions in one. erley has never been interested in reading or writing and i dont think they know why that is. luka the player realized like. fairly recently that i had accidentally made erley dyslexic after i was explaining some Name Lore to a friend and was like. wait. wait. wait. so anyway its canon that theyre dyslexic now and i have a mechanic for it on my sheet. they are however VERY GOOD with maps and geography

if they can fly, how do they feel in the moment their feet touch the ground again?

they cannot! and i dont think anyone has ever cast it on them. but the barbarians did use flying ships so that probably has pretty bad memory/physical associations for them <3

if they wear any, where did they get their jewelry?

they have a decent amount of ear piercings, that were definitely done when they were with the barbarians

have they ever tried to count their own freckles? do they count other people's?

i think counting other peoples (a few specific peoples) freckles is the kind of thing they would daydream about when theyre too exhausted to fight with themselves about it

did they climb all over/onto things as a kid?

they did not. as a small child they were very like. soft and domestic lmao. they really enjoyed drawing and sewing and embroidery and things like that and got along the best with their grandmother. which their dad ... did not like. after the exile, they were definitely Uh. "encouraged" to toughen up but they were for sure never rowdy or energetic

can they play darts? would they?

they have very close to 0 ranged anything so im gonna say probably not lmao. their dex isnt great

where are they in a group hug? (dead center, outside, etc)

if they werent the original hugger, i dont think they would join. theyd be the "watching fondly while desperately wishing they were in the hug but not moving to make that happen" person lol

what's the first thing they think when they hear an alarm? what's the first thing they do?

ideal scenario: getting weapons ready, making sure civilians are protected. what is happening right now: GOIN INTO A PTSD SPIRAL BABEYYYYY CAUSE YOU KNOW THE BARBARIANS JUST SHOWED UP AND THEYRE <3 NOT OKAY <3

do they sing with their head voice or their chest voice?

head voice, on the rare few occasions its happened

(if they have hair that needs to be brushed) how often do they do so? do they do it gently?

comb through with fingers if it gets knotted. i dont think their hair would take kindly to a brush

how would they pass the time on a train?

probably inspecting maps of wherever the destination is. if they felt very safe and comfortable and relaxed, probably doodling or telling the few cowboy stories they know

do they bother to clean ink/chalk/gunpowder/etc off of their fingers? are they likely to forget it's there and smudge their nose?

on the few occasions theyve had gunpowder on their hands, you know theyre scrubbing that shit off until their skin is raw the second their father isnt looking :) <3

do they keep working even when their wrists start to cramp? if they do, do they give themselves a break when the work is done?

erley is very used to pushing themself past their physical limits. being uncomfortable or in pain was never an excuse for them to stop before so why would it be now?

if their mattress became uncomfortable as time passed, would they notice it? would they do anything about it?

if they did notice, it would probably be one of those "stops you in your tracks and makes you examine your life" things, because it means they actually had a mattress they slept on regularly enough for it to get uncomfortable. like weirdly i think that would make them very happy

what's the silliest thing they've used magic to do? if they don't have magic, what's something silly they'd use it for if they did?

erley doesnt really have much 'silly' magic as a paladin, but a few games ago we were doing a dryad rescue operation and i was trying to distract the ship captain. the warlock got TWO NAT 1S on stealth after i gave him advantage, so right when the captain was about to turn around i used channel divinity natures wrath to tip the boat so the captain fell into me, and then used ensnaring strike to restrain him long enough for them to get away and pretended the magic went off "by accident" when he fell on me because i was "having trouble controlling it" (something the other captain had witnessed before that and could corroborate) and was like WOW MAN IM SO SORRY, BUT YEAH I TOTALLY SAW SOMETHING TOO I WONDER WHAT IT WAS???? as the rest of the party got away skdjgkj

IS THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU MOSS???? ARE YOU SATISFIED WITH ERLEY KNOWLEDGE NOW???? I DONT THINK THERE IS ANYTHING LEFT YOU DONT KNOW ABOUT THEM AT THIS POINT

( <3333333 )

#erley tag #OPEN READ MORE WITH CAUTION ITS LIKE 40 QUESTIONS #this was a good way to spend an afternoon <333

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rishi-eel · 4 years

Note

The bad batch in star wars rebels prompts please

oh wow i have not actually watched star wars rebels yet, but i can give some hcs for the bad batch post fall of the republic

the bad batch removed their inhibitor chips shortly after echo joined them and proceeded to secretly continue fives’ investigation. rex and kix knew of this, with rex himself stressing that they needed to gather very strong proof. if there really is a conspiracy, coming forward with anything less than an irrefutable case would be to walk to the gallows

when kix vanishes, the circumstances under which he did lead to the supposition that someone is onto them. they have to be more careful, but they also need to quicken their pace. if it was discovered that kix knew of the conspiracy and was abducted (or eliminated) for this reason, it may be nearing execution. (fix-it hc: they find kix a year or two following the birth of the galactic empire)

when order 66 is issued, they obviously don’t fall under palpatine’s control, but there’s this sinking realization that they failed. to echo, this feels like he just learned of fives’ death all over again (because the idea that his sacrifice could have meant something kept a little bit of fives alive in echo’s heart)

we’ll see if this happens in canon or not, but i’d like it if the bad batch came to rex and ahsoka’s aid. either way, i’d want rex to wind up with the bad batch, echo specifically. rex needs to be with his little brother

now, the chancellor would want the bad batch to hunt down jedi who survived the initial jedi purge, meaning that they have a choice to make: do they want to fall off the radar as quickly as possible or do they try to save some of these jedi?

picture it: the bad batch, rex, and ahsoka going on these missions to save jedi, helping them disappear and possibly establishing this network of undercover jedi survivors

it’s possible that the jedi in question don’t immediately recognize the bad batch as clones (which may be something the newly self-appointed emperor, if he truly does not suspect clone force 99′s treason, believes will act in their favor). irregardless, being clones going after jedi would very much put them in a dangerous situation. the jedi would not immediately know that they are here to help and may display disbelief when they are informed of their intentions. the bad batch may be dissuaded to further help the jedi if they are repeatedly met with contempt and attempts on their lives

i know that in rebels, there’s a character named kanan who survived the jedi purge as a young padawan. clearly traumatized, he has an understandable distrust for the clones, though it also leads to him being rather contemptuous towards rex, wolffe, and gregor, who all seem to be rather patient with him. the bad batch would not be so tolerable of such attitude, with crosshair in particular not holding back from setting things straight, even if that means being cruel in his words. they arent going let some jedi think they’re the only ones who’ve suffered here, and they aren’t going to accept anger directed their way without unleashing some of their own

when the bad batch officially defects, perhaps faking their deaths to get the empire off their trail, they have to adapt to having absolutely no support in resupplying their resources. they do pretty well in what food is concerned, as they already made a habit prior to the republic’s fall to hunt for game, disliking republic rations. getting fuel, medical equipment, and blaster charges is more difficult.

prior to the fall of the republic, the bad batch also made a habit of taking side jobs in order to have some financial independence. this definitely comes in handy now that they’re on their own, but the republic credit (the currency they have most of) has dipped significantly in the outer rim, so they’re experiencing financial issues none the less

they pay close attention to the situation of the clones under the empire. it had already become apparent to them that their treatment under the republic was wrong, but somehow the empire manages to be worse. they join efforts to set the groundwork for a clone revolution

the original bad batch had already started to reconsider their opinion of “reg” clones thanks to echo. with the rise of the empire, the public opinion of the clones has become abysmal on either side. it’s not that they no longer see the differences they hold with other clones, but that it’s so secondary compared to their differences with natborns. the clones are their people and they will fight for them and their interests. they are fighting for themselves first and foremost and refuse to become accessories for someone else’s cause (been there, done that)

rex and the bad batch attempt to rescue cody from the empire (cody lore is so vague beyond rots so u know what. im gonna say they succeed. maybe it takes a while, but they succeed)

they likely cross paths with the rebellion, but whether they truly ally themselves to the cause and become rebels themselves depends on how they’re treated. they wouldn’t submit to anything that diminishes their freedom and autonomy.

(lets take a little moment to entertain the thought: what would the rebellion’s opinion of the clones be? as far as they’re concerned, the clones betrayed the jedi and the republic. would they believe echo when he tells them of the inhibitor chips? of the conspiracy? the rebellion is also called the alliance to restore the republic: would they acknowledge the crimes committed by it? would they recognize that the clones were slaves? if they didn’t care before the republic’s fall, who’s to say they really do now? would the bad batch be made to feel like they owe something to the republic, that they have to atone on behalf of the other clones?)

they probably accept some bounty hunter jobs now and then, though they stick to a strong code of ethics and are careful not to get tangled up with the wrong crowd. they’ll also help random people who are in trouble, acts of benevolence that often gain them important allies

another fix-it hc but i HATE the “clones age at double rate their entire lives” so i propose that the accelerated aging is just during their first ten years to get them to maturity, after which they age either at a normal or slowed-down rate

#asks #anonymous #the bad batch #arc trooper echo #hunter #wrecker #crosshair #tech #captain rex #ahsoka tano #commander cody #kix #i have so many big ass fics i wanna write i swear #this would tie in with my fives lives au so there would be an eventual echo + fives reunion #the brothers are back and leading a clone rebellion baby!!!!!!

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years

Text

—; i’m bad behaviour but i do it in the best way

word count: 6320

pairing: connor | rk800/gender-neutral!reader

genre: fluff; kinda crack treated seriously

summary: « as a wise man once said: “you haven’t lived until you’ve committed at least one blue collar crime” – wh-i… literally no one said that! he sputtered in bewilderment. – i just did… you said as you stomped on your cigarette. or are you calling me unwise? – yes! that’s exactly what i’m calling you! he exclaimed. you chuckled. – oh come on… live a little. it’s not even that bad. you consoled. »

the android before you was conflicted. you could tell from his yellow led, which kept flickering and spinning. the guy was seriously debating this. he’s intrigued. he wants to try it out, you just have to egg him on.

« i won’t tell if you don’t? you offered. »

you’re sure you had a harder time persuading others compared to this detective model android...

a/n: the time has come. i have inspiration. i have motivation. i managed to unblock myself. i think it’s because of stress? i couldn’t write because of stress lmfao or maybe it’s cuz of that oc x canon snippet i did idk.

both.

and uh, the story went out of hand and evolved by itself.

ping. a small popup in the top right corner of his hud caught his attention as he rearranged his folders, neatly putting them in his bag.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ 1 ᴺᴱᵂ ᴹᴱˢˢᴬᴳᴱ: Love ]

> hey im outside waiting for u xx Noted. <

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

he quickly replied and picked up the pace, securing his beanie and wrapping his scarf. grabbing his bag, he excused himself: « see you tomorrow, lieutenant. – wait! connor! the younger man stopped in his tracks, and turned to face the lieutenant. – just… you know how i feel about [ y/n ]... the android patiently waited for him to elaborate. – if you don’t feel comfortable doing what they want you to do, just... know that you don’t have to. he instructed. and if they force you, or hu— – hank. he gently interrupted. the older man stopped his tirade, a mix of emotions on his face: surprise. concern. annoyance. mostly concern. – hank, he restarted. i’ll be fine. he reassured him. i know you don’t trust them, and i can’t force you to, but have a little faith. “in me” in that last sentence unspoken. – i… fuck, i know… but- he grumbled. just, if you don’t feel safe, call me. ok? – of course. he answered. »

before stepping out of the building, the android looked back at his father figure, « take care, see you in the morning. », he did a small wave and threw his best pacifying smile. acute scans heard the older man’s resigned sigh and the twinkle of lingering concern in his features.

once out of the building, his sensors noted the drastic drop in temperature, the warmth and ambient brightness of within was replaced by the cold and windy dullness. it was a rather chilly night, clocking in at 14 degrees celsius, wind blowing rather harshly. wrapping his coat tighter around himself, he heads for where you normally park: take a right from the precinct, a few blocks away. when he reached you, you were leaning on your motorbike, preoccupied with something on your phone, and only noticing the android through his footsteps. looking up, you smirked, and stuffed your mobile into your pocket: « glad to see that they freed you, you said, flicking a cigarette butt away. – yes… i hope i didn’t make you wait too long? he greeted back. – nah, it’s fine. »

you chucked the spare helmet you brought towards him—which he caught effortlessly—« come on, i wanna show you something. »

the ride to the destination was uneventful: it was the usual fare. you sped through the traffic, weaving through the different vehicles at a speed connor was sure was much over the speed limit (he has since given up on informing you as you seemed to ignore him, not keen on slowing down anytime soon).

this location seemed to be some distance outside of the city, as the street grew narrower and darker. the sounds of other vehicles no longer accompanying them. all he could hear was the air that you were blazing through and the humming of the motorcycle underneath you. the cold wind blew from the direction you were heading, and he could feel the rush of air against his body, a sensation that, he figured, would feel chilly and unpleasant if he could “feel” cold. still, he instinctively clung tighter to your body to preserve body heat. he watched the scenery change, sights buzzing by; the dark sky grew clearer and clearer, until a few bright stars were visible unlike back in the heart of the city.

the motorcycle slowed down to a halt, and he dismounted the vehicle. « here we are, you struck out a hand to dramatically gesture at the building. my usual haunt. »—the android squinted as he scrutinised the place, but before he could get a good look, his sight abruptly turned to black, his eyes not yet caught up with the sudden change in lighting. it was as if someone turned off the light switch, the world suddenly plunged into darkness. and apparently somebody did: you finally joined him after turning off the bike, killing the only light source. nudging him to alert him of your presence, you pulled out a flashlight from your bag and flicked it on, illuminating the area once more. you headed towards the building, and twirled to face him. « tada! my happy place, where i usually come to relax after weeks of finals. you announced pridefully. »

[ ᴬᴺᴬᴸᵞˢᴵᴺᴳ ]

he regarded the place apprehensively. to say that it was what he expected it to be would be lie: what he expected to be a warm and rustic cottage, one that exudes cosiness, turned out to be the old remains of an unfinished construction, merely the skeleton of what would be commonhold. it was dark and dreary, shadows covering the empty spaces and the walls. some of the surface were left unfinished, making the “building” perforated, cold and unfriendly. brutal, even. It was clearly dirty, not taken care of, with rubble littering the floors. he analysed the building and was concerned over its structural integrity. it didn’t seem that stable… surely you wouldn’t…?

you noticed your boyfriend’s souring impression and quickly tried to redeem the monument in his eyes: « that look on you face… you hate this... don’t you? you winced. your question caught him off guard, causing him to fumble for a recovery. – i-uh… no! it… has a unique charm. – you’re allowed to be honest, you know? you sighed. – it’s … certainly not what i had in mind, he winced. you bit your lip in a nervous smile. it’s far from prim and proper for straight laced connor, but you hope that this doesn’t end in a disastrous date. – give it a chance, let me show you up there… you’ll love it! you grinned, trying to lighten the mood. »

entering the structure almost felt like entering a different reality: the white noises of the outside world, the hooting of owls, the chirping and buzzing of insects and the howl of the wind were dampened as soon as he followed you in. it was a different realm, where shade crawled about and reigned, the silence deafening and oppressive. « mind the step. you alerted him. » the murk did not deter you one bit, and, knowing the layout of the structure by heart, you led him through different twist and turns, avoiding what he deduced would be multiple deadends. only the light of the flashlight illuminating the way. he followed you obediently, not straying too far away from you, at the risk of becoming lost in this labyrinth. he observed the environment, perturbed. the area contained so many potential hazards, and the thought that you frequented this place often distressed him slightly: though he did not doubt your ability to take care of yourself, he didn’t like the idea that you could’ve potentially hurt yourself every time you went here. he snapped out of his musing millimetres away from colliding with you and directed his attention to what you were currently preoccupied by: a ledge that led to the second floor. « hey babe… how much do you weigh? he took a few moments to answer, but you quickly rephrased. – sorry, you chuckled, that turned out more personal that i thought. can you give me a leg up? you nodded at the protruding wall. the stairs that lead to the upper floors are blocked by rubble so i’m afraid this is our only way up. »

he simply nodded, you securing your light on your belt as he put himself in position against the wall to boost you up. the climb went through easily, and you quickly turned around to pull him up after his running jump. you both quickly stood up, the android dusting himself, ridding his clothes of soot and dust, before you start your trek once more.

« i was wondering—assuming you usually frequent this place on your own—how do you get over that wall by yourself? he asked. – with great difficulty, you answered truthfully. the android rolled his eyes. – obviously, he says, in that lilt that never fails to make you chuckle. – yeah? well i hope you’re not too tired today, ‘cause we have a bit more scaling to do. don’t want you slowing me down, you teased. – as if. he scoffed. »

once on the highest floor, you led him towards an open chamber whose floor was largely intact but had a large gaping hole on one side—one that helped ventilate the room who, compared to the rest of the building, was properly aerated, the air much cleaner and safer to breathe than the musty and stale odor down below. the opening allowed the moonlight to bathe the room in a soft glow, illuminating the occupants with an ethereal white. a second source of light caught his attention: a small fire that you ignited inside a metal drum, a flame whose heat was a pleasant contrast to the cold, an ember that highlighted the place with a stark, warm, orange glow against the satellite’s smooth, cold, bluish-white light.

you sat down unceremoniously on a worn out and unfinished windowsill—resembling more like a vaguely rectangular opening—the android joining you on the opposite side. lighting a cigarette, you took a deep breath and sighed, leaning back and gazing into the sable sky decorated by a plethora of stars. the man facing you mimicked your movements and gazed at the celestial bodies, little lights twinkling in the dark, innocent and brilliant. able to take his time to view the heavens, he noted that it resembles an elysian painting, tinted an aegean blue. accompanying the sight was the rumbles of a rock song he wasn’t familiar with, probably from a rock concert a few kilometres away—making a note to find out and identify the venue. he could feel the deep thrumming of the bass and vaguely hear the melody, and though the dampened music made it slightly harder for him to pin it down, he managed to identify it: a hit song from a local indie band. he turned to face you, your form peacefully resting against the wall behind you, eyes closed; features relaxed. breathing deeply, you blew puffs of smoke with a lazy, yet content, smile.

« so? what d’you think? your eyes were directly on him now. i know you had your reservations about this place... »

there was a small twitch in your smile, a tell he caught that told him of your nervousness. despite his previous opinion of this place, he could see why you liked it, and considered it your happy place: it was a distance away from the big city, the air pollution and the noise. it was quieter and calmer here, without any of the loud colours and chatter that never seemed to cease. the location also provided a good view of the woods around it and the elegant skies above, along with ambient music. one that certainly fit your tastes, but at a distance that didn’t make the atmosphere overbearing. it was a good place to recharge; to rest and to think, away from the cumbersome responsibilities, if only for a little while.

« i like it... it has a unique charm. he found himself repeating himself. it’s a good place to escape. – do you? as if a switch was flicked, your uncertain demeanour was replaced with a cheeky grin. i’m glad this place grew on you! you stood up and placed yourself closer to the android, sinking back on him. – i... like places like these and exploring them… just glad i didn’t bore you away. »

you sighed as you settled comfortably against his chest, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist to cradle your form in a tight embrace. he replied with a hum of approval. placing a hand on yours, he brings it up and presses a kiss on your palm. you gently caressed his cheek as he did. « i’m never bored when i get to spend time with you, my love. he says softly, earnestly. – you’re not half bad yourself, babe. you replied. »

he smacked your arm in faux disdain as you placed a kiss on his jaw, and the conversation ended after that. It was quiet, but it wasn’t an awkward silence; no, it was a comfortable one. no other words uttered. just the two of you, the crackle of the flame, your thoughts and the heavens. connor is tracing soothing circles on the back of your hand, resting his head on the top of yours—his focus switching from the galaxy above and you—while you simply relish on the warmth of his presence and hum along to the song playing in the background. though you knew he meant what he said, you notice him start to fidget and become restless. you’re never sure if it was due to the fact that he was a tireless android or if it was simply a tic of his, but he’s unable to simply sit and be. he’s already analysed all that could be analysed in this place, and you know it’s something he can’t help but do. he had a constant need to be up and about, doing something or preoccupying his mind with something.

« beautiful night, tonight, isn’t it? you started, catching his attention. there was a few moments of silence before he answered. – but certainly not as charming as you. – ha. smooth one, anderson. » the flame in the drum is dying, the heat it brought fading away: an attestation of the time that has passed. it’s been that long huh? the band has changed to a different song, though it shows no signs of finishing anytime soon. you decided it was time to put connor out of his misery and do something else.

snapping up unto your feet—startling the android slightly—you offer a hand and pulled him up: « i got an idea. and it’s probably going to sound like a terrible, inane idea… – how foolish are we talking? he asked, unfazed after going through with multiple of your “dates”; including, but not limited to, urban exploration, base jumping, and graffiti (he still doesn’t know why he agreed… he remembers you saying « rebel against the humans! ») – i mean… it’s pretty tame considering the stuff i proposed before. you shrugged. he raised a brow in suspicion. – you... might be charged with criminal trespass… you admit and he looks horrified. but! but! you continued. that’s only if you get caught! which you wouldn’t be if you’re with me! you reassured him. – what are you planning to do, exactly? – i was thinking about sneaking in the concert and just bask in the energy. head for the moshpit or something. you’re bouncing off your ideas, hoping it might interest him. have fun, enjoy the music. – i’ve researched that venue, it’s a private property! do you know the charges that’ll be pressed against you? he asked, perplexed. – duh! it’s a misdemeanour trespass, as is stated in the michigan penal code: county jail for 30 days and/or a fine. section 750.552.. you answered nonchalantly. it don’t really matter! as i said: we won’t get caught. – how are so calm about breaking these laws? he questioned, perplexed. for a law student, you seem so adamant to break them… – look, con. i’m not gonna force you to do this. i love you, and i understand that you have a reputation to uphold, being a detective and all. you assured him. i don’t want you to feel that i’m peer pressuring you into this. – i… i don’t.. you notice how his eyes shift, looking to the far left, unable to make eye contact. you notice that he’s conflicted, that he wants to do this, but doesn’t. you sigh. – look, we can walk back to the bike while you think about it, and you can tell me your decision once we’re there. alright? »

he doesn’t answer, but you know he heard you, so you start to make your way back down, the android following you wordlessly. once down by your bike, you lean on it—rather similarly to how he met you earlier today—and nod at him: « so? what’s you’re decision? – this sounds like a bad idea… still disagreeing, but not outright denying it. you meant what you said: you don’t want to make him do what he doesn’t want to do, but a partner in crime doesn’t sound half bad. you huff. – connor anderson. the connor anderson himself, who snuck into jericho. the same one who infiltrated cyberlife tower in what seemed to be a suicide mission. is scared of a little trespassing? you teased. live a little! – i don’t see how me committing a crime would contributes to my satisfaction with life. – haven’t you heard? as a wise man once said: “you haven’t lived until you’ve committed at least one blue collar crime” – wh-i… literally no one said that! he sputtered in bewilderment. – i just did… you said as you stomped on your cigarette. or are you calling me unwise? – yes! that’s exactly what i’m calling you! he exclaimed. you chuckled. – oh come on… live a little. it’s not even that bad. you consoled. »

« i won’t tell if you don’t? you offered. »

you seat yourself on your bike and turn back to face him: « so, are you in? a moment of silence. the android seemed to have a renewed confidence. – as a law enforcement officer, what’s stopping me from arresting you right now? his eyes held a newfound determination. you smirked lazily. – absolutely nothing. »

he swears to god, or ra9, or whatever higher power there is, that you will be the death of him.

« get off. your ordered. he followed the command without a word. – we’re gonna walk the rest of the way. you added. »

the concert venue was now at a reasonable distance away, and it was within eyeshot. however, that also meant that everything was much louder. he could now feel the boom of the loud music, and make out the lyrics.

« so i’ve stalked this place before, and i know an entry. here’s the plan: we’re gonna immediately go to the right side. the fence that side is less guarded, since there’s a ditch that leads there; we can hide in there. however there was a drone, just one, and a cctv camera—and we also need to look out for guards—alors fais gaffe1 ok? this far along and he still seemed hesitant, so you give one final push. – too late to back out now buddy. you’ll be fine though. just follow my lead and disable that camera. – wait! you glanced back at him. once inside, what do we do? – just act natural and have fun. you grinned. » and with that, you took off, making your way to the future crime scene. he sighed, still unsure on how you managed to coerce him into this, but jogged to catch up to you.

you hopped down in the ditch, connor not too far behind, and you quickly mentioned, while pointing at a sign that said “no androids allowed”: « by the way, you might want to keep that led of yours hidden. i’ve got some bobby pins if you need ‘em. you motioned to the beanie that he was currently adjusting. »

once he seemed satisfied with his changes, you asked him if he could tamper with the camera, which he swiftly disabled. you come out of your little hiding space and start climbing up the chain link fence, telling connor to keep an eye out for the security drone currently patrolling. what you forgot to tell him was the part where you were going to take it out, catching the android off guard as you throw yourself off the top part of the fence you were clinging on onto the passing drone. your swinging and flailing, combined with your weight pulling it down, caused the contraption to crash and the android—who seemed to have snapped out of his stupor—grabbed a metal pipe lying near the barrier and proceeded to smash the machine. chucking the object to the side, he went to help you up on you feet: « are you alright? – i’m fine. you looked at the metallic junk that was once a drone. we make a pretty good team, don’t you think? he looked back at the destroyed drone. – i don’t want to keep thinking about it… – destruction of property. you clicked your tongue. i’m proud of you con. you pretended to wipe a tear off your eyes. – let’s just go. he turned away , and you follow him up the fence with a chuckle. – cheer up con. you hopped over the chain. it’s okay… you’ve done worse. »

he was about to retort, when a figure seemed to head your way, and you both managed to duck out into a corner before being discovered by the flashlight. when it was clear, you snuck out of the hiding spot and proceeded to join the masses. it was different. he’s never been to a concert before. sure, he was a fan of rock, often listening to it with hank, but experiencing it live was so very different. he knew it would be loud, deafening, but he didn’t expect the surge of excitement and vivacity. it was exhilarating, a completely different world: the bright colours, the loud ambiance, the energy of the music. the android couldn’t help, but let himself get a bit excited. he was glad he decided to come though he’d never admit it to you.

you both floated around the edge of the crowd, the venue being full. it wasn’t a particularly big place, but there were quite a lot of people there, you mused out loud. must be a pretty popular band, their song being catchy enough. at some point or another, you both cheered along with the crowd (though he was much meeker in his cries), and for some reason, decided to try and wade through the people to get closer to the front—the moshpit—this time, the android seemed to play along with your plan without complaint.

he sort of wished he had now. you don’t really know when it happened, whether it was when you rummaged through the people or during a collision while moshing, lost in the intensity of the crowd—every member in state of ecstatic delirium. the beanie came off. when he realised, he quickly hid his led, which was a disturbed yellow, and notified you. you didn’t have to hear what he said to know what was happening. you quickly led him towards the “exit”, the immediate crowd—who saw the black sheep—parting like the red sea as you crossed, but as your neared the edge of the venue security finally reached and cornered you. you quickly placed yourself besides connor, sending across a relaxed body language. you discreetly grabbed his hand, and whispered « play along » which he wouldn’t have heard if he were human.

« how may we help you sir? you asked, flashing your friendliest smile. – i’m concerned about this friend of yours… his eyes glanced at your boyfriend, but you keep your eyes on him. connor was unfazed. perhaps because he trusted your ability in getting yourselves out of this mess—awww, you’re flattered—or that his model are used to high stress environment—most likely, but you certainly hope it was also because of the former. this was a darker area of the place, so it would obscure most of your features, and the band was still playing in the background—ignorant to the revelation—which would somewhat hide your voices. – what about him? curt and indignant. – androids are not allowed in this area. he pointed to the anti-android post outside the fence. the fence that led to freedom. i’m going to have to bring him in for trespass, and you for smuggling him in. androids were recognised as their own sentient species, but laws protecting them have yet to be passed: android-free zones were still legal. most places in the city removed their anti-android signs, but people from the periphery seemed more resistant to change. fuck. – oh that old thing? the led? that don’t prove nothing. you shrugged. be cool [y/n]. it’s just a temporary tattoo. motherfucker lost a bet. you thank whatever gods above that the rk800 models could somewhat control their led colour, so that his remained blue. – is that so? he turned to connor. you seemed adamant on hiding that led of yours. the asshat must have a grudge against androids, huh? You wished he’d just kick you out. make life easier for both parties. – it’s a fake tattoo. he played along. and it’s a bad one at that—i don’t want to be associated with those plastics… he grumbled. you cackled. – well, maybe you shouldn’t have lost that bet, michael. the guard in front of you grunted, displeased. he really wanted to bring in an android huh? prove something to someone? or just pure malice? you never really paid attention in psych class. – if that’s the case, since you’re both humans, i’d like to see your ticket. »

you went rigid. clenching your jaw you planned your next course of action. you have your phone in your pocket, but there was nothing. you could surrender it, and run away as he was distracted, but he could then trace it back to you and press charges… you could fight? the both of you could easily overpower him, outrunning him wouldn’t be a problem either. but you’ll never hear the end of it if you decided to hurt someone when you had a more pacifist option, so you chose to run. it was abrupt. you were in a standoff, one party waiting for the other to make their move. and all of the sudden you make a break for it and dash off for the fence, your partner running for it too. there was a bit of a scuffle but you managed to fend him off long enough for you to scramble up the fence. the man quickly caught up and yanked your leg—alarming you—though a well placed kick from the other freed you long enough to jump off into the other side, ready to make a dash for your life as you land.

the two of you ran until you reached your bike, which was quite a distance away (thank fuck for that, at least he won’t follow you that far—unless he’s really fucking persistent), where you collapsed on the spot and panted slightly. the android himself was looking slightly weary. heavy breathing turned into wheezing laughter as the absurdity of what just transpired settled into your mind.

« i can’t believe that actually happened! you exclaimed between laughs. – we barely got out of there! he chided. we were almost arrested! – but we weren’t. told ya’ con. should’a believed me. you tsk-ed, having calmed down from the giggles. i’m insulted to be quite honest. you exploded into another fit of laughter. – i don’t know how i managed to get you to do this with me! you howled. – never again. he stated, a finality in his tone. – oh come on, you loved it. you rolled your eyes. he stared at you in silence, unimpressed. it was true, but you’ll never hear that from him. – i hate you, he frowned. – love you too babe, you responded, running a hand through your hair. »

he sighed and let himself fall beside you. taking out your backpack once more, you rummaged through and handed him an item: an inconspicuous water bottle. when asked what it was, you answered « thirium. that’s what you guys drink right? » as you opened your own water bottle, gulping down its content. he informed you that androids don’t need to constantly replenish the thirium in his body like humans did with water—only drinking them when they have lost a significant amount—but that he appreciated the gesture. “it’s the thought that counts”.

you huffed, slightly bashful, going into a tirade about how you can’t keep up with the constantly evolving technology. « you’re starting to sound like hank now. » he chuckled and you grimaced and pretended to vomit in response, though you joined him in his laughter. you both spent time sitting there. just breathing. coming down from your adrenaline rush.

« wanna crash at my place? you offered. – i’d be more than happy to, he obliged. »

that night, you both slept like a rock. well, you did. you completely conked out. connor peacefully entered stasis as he usually did. you arrived at your flat sometime in the morning and passed out. barely managing to blearily have a “shower”—dousing yourself in water—before passing out.

come later in the morning—when the light shone softly and the white noise of the city: ambient sound of traffic, chatter, chirping of pigeons—you were sleeping peacefully when you felt someone shift beside you, rousing you slightly from your slumber. you groaned as your head gains enough coherence to remember about university and the brunt of the waking world. think you’re gonna play hooky today. maybe kenneth can take notes for you… you made a note to ask him later...

unwrapping himself from you, your partner stood up to get ready to go to work—going off to change into neater clothings that he stored in your house and getting decent—and went off to prepare a pot of coffee for you and stick bread in the toaster. feeling the sudden loss of heat as he went away, your sleep heavy mind blindly felt the portion of the bed that he usually slept on—the right—patting it, looking for the missing presence. this went on for a few minutes and your limb felt heavy as your tired body fell back asleep. you resigned to simply poke your arm from under the cover, hoping it’d catch someone. you were half asleep when the reaching hand finally found something, as it was held and gently guided to another’s cheek, yet another kiss pressed on your palm. you felt your heart melt, and hummed approvingly. « stay. you mumbled. he smiled at your naïve request. – i have to go to work. – skip work… f… ight the government… you yawned. – you know i can’t do that, my love. – i… order you... you sleep riddled mind was struggling to keep up as you slowly dozed again. to… – i’ll see you again this evening, i’ll be right back. oh yeah it’s saturday, you reminded yourself. no classes. you mentally cheered. – okk… you were going to pass out again. »

his warmth left you, and you find yourself yearning for it again. before he left, he glanced back towards you—practically buried under the duvet, only visible as a lump under the blanket and the hand poking through the right side. « i love you, [y/n] »

you were too gone to reply, but regardless, he left for work with a small smile.

work went on as usual. filling reports was boring, but it had to be done. at least he could finish them in record time, built to be more efficient at it than your typical human officer. being a detective assigned to the anti-android crimes taskforce, it was rather quiet right now, and though he was grateful that androids weren’t being harmed, it was terribly boring. though colin, who had to start all the way back at the beginning as a beat cop, seemed to be enjoying a peaceful break. he sighed for the umpteenth time as he fidgeted and fiddled with his coin, having already abused the fun out of his multiple pens and pencils. he missed spending time with you; at least it was exciting and unpredictable (getting to be with you is an enjoyable bonus). he stared blankly at his coin and sighed again. his father figure gave him a look across the desk—“did anything happen?”. he shook his head.—“no nothing bad or dangerous happened while i was with [y/n].”. the android then asked if he fancied a cup of coffee from the coffee shop across the road. the old man simply grunted.

« you can just take a walk, you don’t need to use me as a fucking excuse. – alright. he answered placidly. »

the android thought about walking to stretch his legs. maybe go to that bakery that you fancied so much. you did like the strawberry shortcake a crazy amount. but as he would find out, the slow and easy moments shouldn’t be taken for granted: a very disgruntled man, who stormed in to file a police report, happened to run in with the android, still somewhat deep in his musings. oh boy was he in for a rude awakening.

they both promptly apologise, however, once they saw each other they instantly recognised each other—though the detective kept his face neutral. « you! you’re the fucking android that trespassed into a restricted area! he accused. straight faced, he replied calmly. – i am indeed an android, but i believe you may have accused the wrong one. there often many iterations of the same model. he cursed his stars and the fates that put him in this situation. one that meant he was, as hank would put it, in deep shit. »

he was glad most people didn’t know there were only 2 rk800 currently in circulation: him and his brother, colin, whom he was trying to contact. as connor continued trying to placate the angry man, and deny his involvement in anything, he heard his brother’s voice come through.

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[ ᵂᴴᴬᵀ'ˢ ᵁᴾ? ] > [ ᵀᴴᴱᴿᴱ ᴵˢ ᴬ ᴹᴬᴺ ᴼᵁᵀ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ, ᶜᴸᴱᴬᴿᴸᵞ ᵛᴱᴿᵞ ᶜᴿᴼˢˢᴱᴰ, ᵂᴴᴼ ᵂᴼᵁᴸᴰ ᴸᴵᴷᴱ ᵀᴼ ᶠᴵᴸᴱ ᴬ ᴾᴼᴸᴵᶜᴱ ᴿᴱᴾᴼᴿᵀ. ] he decided to give him a clear picture.

[ SENDING AUDIO-VISUAL FEED TO RK800 #313 248 317-60—COLIN ] [ LINK ESTABLISHED. WAITING PERMISSION… ] [ ACCEPTED. ]

> [ ᴬ ᵀᴿᴱˢᴾᴬˢˢ ᴼᴺ ᴾᴿᴵᵛᴬᵀᴱ ᴾᴿᴼᴾᴱᴿᵀᵞ ᴮᵞ ᴬ ᴰᴱᵛᴵᴬᴺᵀ ] there was a moment of silence before his brother replied. [ ᵂᴴᴬᵀ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴴᴱᴸᴸ ᴰᴵᴰ ᵞᴼᵁ ᵀᵂᴼ ᴳᴱᵀ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴸᴬˢᵀ ᴺᴵᴳᴴᵀ? ] > [ ᴵ ᴬᴾᴾᴿᴱᶜᴵᴬᵀᴱ ᴴᴼᵂ ᵞᴼᵁ ᴵᴹᴹᴱᴰᴵᴬᵀᴱᴸᵞ ᴬˢˢᵁᴹᴱᴰ ᴵᵀ ᵂᴬˢ ᵁˢ. ] connor replied, sarcastic but devoid of humour. [ ᵂᴱᴸᴸ? ᵂᴬˢ ᴵᵀ ᴿᴱᴬᴸᴸᵞ ᵞᴼᵁ ᵀᵂᴼ? ] the android, who somehow felt a migraine develop—even though that shouldn’t be possible—sighed. > [ ᴸᴼᴺᴳ ˢᵀᴼᴿᵞ ˢᴴᴼᴿᵀ, ᵂᴱ ᵀᴿᴱˢᴾᴬˢˢᴱᴰ ᴵᴺᵀᴼ ᴬᴺ ᴬᴿᴱᴬ ᵂᵂ ˢᴴᴼᵁᴸᴰ'ᵛᴱ ᴬᵛᴼᴵᴰᴱᴰ. ] > [ˢᴱᴺᴰ ᴴᴱᴸᴾ? ] [ ᵞᴼᵁ? ᶜᴼᴹᴹᴵᵀᴱᴰ ᴬ ᶜᴿᴵᴹᴱ ᴼᴺ ᵞᴼᵁᴿ ᴼᵂᴺ ᵛᴼᴸᴵᵀᴵᴼᴺ? ]

the android could hear his brother cackle at his misery. though outside of earshot, the sound echoes in his mind as the link was not yet severed.

[ ᴺᴬᴴ, ᵞᴼᵁ'ᴿᴱ ᴼᴺ ᵞᴼᵁᴿ ᴼᵂᴺ ᴼᴺ ᵀᴴᴵˢ ᴼᴺᴱ ] [ ᴳᴼᴼᴰ ᴸᵁᶜᴷ ᵀᴴᴼᵁᴳᴴ. ] [ ᴴᴬᴺᴷ'ˢ ᴳᴼᴺᴺᴬ ᴮᴱ ᴾᴵˢˢᴱᴰ ] and with that, his brother abandoned him.

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the man was absolutely irate, convinced that he was the one who trespassed in the venue—he wasn’t wrong—be he kept accusing someone of the same profile as him, but named “michael”. you really did him a favour on that one. it seemed like salvation had come however, as hank intercept the confrontation—the man calmed down after seeing a human officer. his brother must’ve informed the lieutenant (connor wants to thank him, but not), knowing how the appearance of two rk800s would only aggravate the situation. through a stroke of luck, the man didn’t have enough evidence to successfully file a report—against an rk800 named “michael”... who didn’t exist.

but to say that hank was pissed was an understatement. thus begins the walk of shame as hank demanded to « talk in private ». at the end of a severe tongue-lashing, decorated with many “fuck”s and “shit”s, he was in a sour mood and positively fuming. forget the shortcake. he was absolutely going to get back at you for this.

you were snoozing peacefully, off in dreamworld, when you woke up to the buzzing of your phone. groggy, you ran you hand under the pillows and felt for the object until you found it. checking it revealed that you 27 missed calls from an unknown number and a few message from them:

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unknown number [ two missed message ]

> what the fuck did you get connor into? > ???????

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bzz. bzz. a new message?

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unknown number [ 1 new message ]

> i know you saw the messages, fuckibg answer

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you also had a new message from connor, though his message didn’t bode well for you either:

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connard2 anderson <3 [ 1 missed message ]

> we need to talk. > ):<

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the use of the emoji made you chuckle, but you were scared of what the future brought for you. oh boy… you were in deep shit weren’t you…

e͟p͟i͟l͟o͟g͟u͟e͟:

you lived to see another day. hank gave you an even more brutal scolding than what connor received, and you swore that if this were a shitty choice-that-matters game you’d see a metre for his friendship go down. not that there was much there in the first place.

connor gave an even more punishing sanction: he gave you the absolute silent treatment for a month. no talking, no hugs nor cuddles, and only the odd texts once in a blue moon. an absolutely miserable 31 days for you, spent by sulking. safe to say this was a punishment you’ll never forget, and one that will discourage you from ever trying that kind of stunt ever again.

or at least when connor’s around. it’s free game when it’s just you by yourself. connor knows this and simply sighs in resignation and just hopes you don’t get yourself in potentially future career ruining situation...

f͟o͟o͟t͟n͟o͟t͟e͟s

1. french expression that i was too lazy to translate, essentially means “watch out/stay alert”,,, somewhere along those lines, but informal. 2. connard is a french word pronounced almost like connor, but it means shithead. reader i have a strange sense of humour.

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#detroit: become human #detroit: become human x reader #dbh x reader #connor dbh x reader #rk800 dbh x reader #connor detroit: become human #connor rk800 #rk800-60 dbh #falselywrites #crosspost from main acc

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thearcanasucks · 3 years

Note

re: sworn brothers, it depends on the characters relationship but it is not actually brotherhood like actual family relationship, it definitely CAN be "see and treat each other as brothers" but yes, Actual Chinese People have spoken about how "sworn brothers" in literature does not mean what it sounds like and a lot of time can be a very romantic relationship. white/western fans tend not to understand this, though, so i'd still be cautious with people because there's a non-zero chance that they do mean to support incest

aha, thank you for the info, i was wondering about it on a larger literary/historical scope

although, as ive mentioned before: symbolical-yet-still-vaguely-romantical brotherhood is not that alien to the Western literary canon either (how many times have historians been like UHHH THEY LOVED EACH OTHER LIKE BROTHERS!! when historical figures were fucking kissing on the mouth) but i guess it’s not that well known in comparison to sworn brotherhood in China (i am Assuming here)

but yeah. i dont fucking trust a western fan who ships that shit as far as i can throw them, and tbh, again: kaeya and diluc didnt just swear to each other, iirc they even grew up together under the same roof and even the staff treats him as part of the family (although idk if thats also in the chinese version) so in this case i do feel it’s more familial because of the structure they’re both in, not just because of the interpersonal relationship? if that makes sense?

im gonna leave the Chinese side of the fandom to Chinese users. as far as the English fandom and english version of the game is concerned, they are adoptees and nobody will die from letting a brotherhood stay brothers once. i fucking blame migratory slash fandom syndrome.

#asks #mod nba #Anonymous #incest ment /

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bottomlwjrights · 4 years

Text

MO DAO ZU SHI REREAD:Thoughts™️....and Stuff

Chapter 43

Oh im trying so hard to stay calm as im about to read this but im so excited i love these chapters

Im really trying but even wwx making the effort to analyze lwj’s face is driving me nuts

Id just like to point out these chapters are titled “Allure”

Oh no this is like what he did when they were writing in the library

“Both his features and the hand at his forehead were impeccably fair in color. He looked as if he was a piece of fine jade”

Wwx was describing how lwj smells and how the sandalwood scent was warmed up by the wine and then said “the scent could almost be described as intoxicating” im gonna scream

“Now that Wei WuXian was near enough, the scent intertwined with his breaths. He couldn’t help but bent down further so that he was even closer to Lan WangJi. Vaguely, he thought to himself, Strange… Why is it starting to feel a bit hot in here?” Ohohoho

“Wei WuXian finally noticed that his heart was beating a bit too fast.” Shut uuuuuup

Okay im gonna lose my mind, i love wen ning

Also he left a man shaped dent in the ground when he fell

“Won’t you be a good boy?” Wwx calling lwj a good boy is canon so suck it i guess

Wwx brushing his fingers along lwj’s eyelashes is tender

Wwx, @ wn knealing in front of him: what the fuck are you doing? Stand up

Wwx obviously believes wn to be an equal to him, kneeling when he kneels, kowtowing when he kowtows until wn finally decides to stand in front of him

Wow anyways loved that ningxian moment

God....i feel so bad for wn...

Jin Ling....please...

This scene hurts me

Goddamn is wn someone who takes the blame for everything

Do NoT kiCk My BoY

Just a note, wwx does come to wn’s defense here, pulling lwj back and telling him to calm down

Wwx really doesnt like it when wn kneels to him

“Lan WangJi scrunched his brows and covered his ears. He then turned around with his back toward Wen Ning. Facing Wei WuXian, he used his own body to block their eye contact.” Lwj acts like such a little kid when he’s drunk oh my gosh

“Just as he was about to leave, Wei WuXian stopped him, ‘Wen Ning, why don’t you… find somewhere to hide first?’ Wen Ning paused for a second. Wei WuXian added, ‘One can say that you’ve died twice already. Go get some good rest.’” I dont care what anyone else says this is sweet “go get some good rest” 🤧

Lwj really took off his forehead ribbon for wwx without skipping a beat wow....

Oh and how wrong wwx is about it not holding any significance, he just doesnt know it yet

Trying to stay calm, trying not to scream about lwj taking off his forehead ribbon for wwx and then tying his wrists together with it

Knfnckc lwj reaching to take off wwx clothes again slnfckfk

“You said that you’ll listen to me, didn’t you? Be a good boy and take it off.” Twice in one chapter? Im being fed

“Lan WangJi stared into the distance as he tugged at the ends of the forehead ribbon, contently swinging them around.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺 thats so cute

Ooooh lwj decided to show people when wwx said it would look bad on lwj if someone else saw them because he doesnt care if it makes him look bad hes gonna publicly claim wwx as his

Only ljy would hurl himself across a table to cover up a bottle of wine lmao

Lan WangJi is So shameless, holds up wwx’s hands tied with his forehead ribbon in front of his son and the other Lan disciples who know exactly what that means

Chapter 44

Chicken wing chicken wing

God im never gonna get over lsz shoving the chicken wing back into ljy’s mouth

Oh pls....lwj shoving wwx on the bed...

Oh!!! I forgot that after wwx said ow, lwj checked his head... he really didnt wanna hurt him

I really vibe with lwj being so concerned and gentle

“Sitting on the bed, Lan WangJi hugged his knees and clutched the hand that Wei WuXian had just licked to his chest, not moving at all.” I 🥺🥺🥺🥺

My god lwj was scared that he was gonna wipe it off 😭😭😭

Okay this is so so so cute, i dont care what anyone else thinks

“Hiding behind the screen, he showed only half of his fair-skinned face, peeking silently at the direction of Wei WuXian.” This tears me up

“You caught me”

“he enunciated each word with heavy emphasis and sounded anxiously eager” jakfncjfof gOD

Aw :( you’re not gonna lick me??? :(

Anyways lwj likes to be licked my wwx 👀

“Again clutching the hand that had been licked, he faced the wall silently.” Goddamnit this is so fucking cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Listen they should play chase or hide-and-seek post canon, like itd be so cute and sweet, somebody should hop on that

“As he spoke, he held up one of Lan WangJi’s hands, bent down, and kissed between two of his slender fingers.” Listen im trying to not freak out but this is incredibly tender

“Wei WuXian’s lips pressed onto his distinct knuckles. Softer than the touch of feather, his breaths wandered to the back of his hand, and he kissed again.” This entire scene is too much

Hand and wrists kisses are so tender good god im gonna scream

“Over the clothing, he kissed where his heart was” jajfnkc so sweet!

“Suddenly, however, as Wei WuXian stared at those soft, pale-red lips, he didn’t know what had taken over him, but he suddenly went and kissed them.After the kiss, he even licked them, as though a kiss wasn’t enough.” AHHHHHHHH

I know that lwj wanted to deescalate the affection, but did he have to do it by knocking himself out???

“Even though he was drunk, even though he wouldn’t remember anything when he sobers up, I still shouldn’t have done something so outrageous… It’s too disrespectful to him.” This is important

God i love when characters touch their own lips after a kiss it’s such a good trope

“In the future, it was best to not make Lan Zhan drink anymore” this is also important

Okay this was one of my favorite chapters to read so far

Chapter 45

I physically cannot handle lwj gently picking wwx up off the ground and putting him into bed right now

“... Wei WuXian could see Lan WangJi’s still-indifferent face. He immediately felt more awake...” i cannot

This entire scene is too tender for me, lwj rubbing ointments on wwx’s wrists...

Thinking about how wwx and lwj shared both their firsts kiss and how they’ve never kissed anybody except eachother

It makes sense that people including wwx would assume that lwj is straight bc thats what people do even in modern times (bc homophobia and heteronormativity) but also how tf does anyone think lwj is anything except gay

“It’s possible that he’s never even had such thoughts before…” “But judging from Lan Zhan’s habit of self-restraint, he’s probably really careful about not crossing any lines.” false.

Lwj just letting the juniors socialize, because hes good

Wwx once again taking any chance he can to bestow knowledge and wisdom upon the juniors, this time jl

“After the mention of Lan WangJi, Jin Ling looked to Wei WuXian in a strange way. He wanted to say something, but held it back, ‘You and HanGuang-Jun… Nevermind.It’s your own business. Anyways, I don’t care about you guys at all. Have fun being cut-sleeve. The disease is incurable.’”JIN LING

“I already know the meaning behind the GusuLan Sect’s forehead ribbon. Now that it’s already like this, then stay by HanGuang-Jun’s side properly. Even if you’re a cut-sleeve, you should be a modest one. Don’t go about messing with other men, especially people from our sect! Or else, don’t blame the results on me.” Kandkckdkdn i can NOT

The scene kills me wow

As my reading buddy asked, why does wwx not mention wn when talking about how jc and lwj know who he is? Like does he not think thats pretty significant? especially bc thats one of the things that tipped jc off

LWJ IS SO SASSY 😨

Also pls stop picking on him about his memory

Ahhh the damsel of annual blossoms...

God i love wwx.....

Did lwj write the book that lsz read this from......

“Although still expressionless, an unusual glint hid beneath his eyes. He looked as though he was laughing at him.”

GOD “Wei WuXian’s heart skipped a beat and then thumped faster and faster.”

Lsz is the one to tell wwx about the meaning of the forehead ribbon

The lan juniors blushing thinking about what wwx means to lwj

Once again, wwx describing lwjs appearance in depth, talking about how dashing he is

“Along with that overly-pretty face of Lan WangJi’s, now that they met again, Wei WuXian’s eyes had momentarily been blinded by his looks, failing to immediately recognize him.”

“Softer than even the touch of catkin blossoms carried by the wind, the object made Wei WuXian’s cheek itch....The ends of his forehead ribbon danced in the breeze, gently brushing against Wei WuXian’s face.” Wow....i love this imagery with all my heart

The way that somethings are worded in this novel is just so beautiful

Lxc and the others lan sect disciples reactions....

Yanno the lan disciple who whispered “a man” definitely wasnt making things better, considering lwj definitely had a crush on wwx at this point

“He seems a bit too excited. It seems like he really loves HanGuang-Jun a lot. Look at how happy he is…” WHICH LAN SAID THIS

Wwx is so mortified by this entire situation because he kept violating something sacred to lwj, doing something so intimate like touching his forehead ribbon without his consent and he didn’t even really know that he was doing it

#mine #Phoenix rereads MDZS #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #ningxian #wangningxian #i will take very little bit of nx and wnx as i can i love them all so much #lwj #wwx #wn #lsz #ljy #been a long while since the last one for reasons and stuff

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e1ygo · 3 years

Text

anything for you

Haikyuu!!

Relationship:

Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Tags

Murder

vaguely described death

Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen

technically canon compliant

Fluffy Ending

Pre-Relationship

no beta we die like men

Aftermath of Violence

I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping

Blood and Injury

Personality Swapnot

the actual magical trope for it

How Do I Tag

Slightly Out Of Character

crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446720

******************************************************************************************

kinda terrible but i did like it so im posting it now, send me your thoughts, twitter: wolfBLIX

******************************************************************************************

“FUCK! Just DIE already, you bitch.” The final crack of the spinal cord as the target’s back hits the floor. He reached for his phone and dialed a number from memory. “Omi, I need you.” Click.

He knew this was going to be a pain in the ass to clean up. The job was supposed to be simple and easy. What the agency failed to tell him was that the target was trained to avoid assassinations for very obvious reasons. He almost felt sorry for who had to pick the room up after the agency’s cleaner finished. There was blood splattered onto his cheek and across one of the walls of the room. A small bedside table was completely across from where it should be, plus it was missing a few legs. Atsumu was splattered with blood, similar to a piece of abstract art. Red dripped down the side of his face, it was from when the target swung at him with bloody knuckles, but now it mixed with his sweat from the fight.

The only good thing about this issue was that he was able to see Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi Sakusa was the cleaner for the hitmen agency for when jobs became a little messier than they were supposed to be. He was a confusing person but damn good at his job. Confusing for the same reason that Atsumu worked for the agency. Kiyoomi hated germs and always wore a mask and sometimes even gloves outside of doing his job. He hated people, kept to himself unless he knew the person well, and was painfully agoraphobic, yet he thrived in high school as a star volleyball player. This had been where Atsumu first laid eyes on him, in high school at a volleyball match. Atsumu is sort of the antithesis of Kiyoomi: loves attention, people, is loud and ‘obnoxious’ (as said by Kiyoomi the first time they met mid-match).

Years had passed since those moments. The world has spun on its head and the reality they lived in felt similar to a fever dream or an alternate timeline. Maybe it was; there had been a war in 2020 and a few years later any sports teams had turned barbaric and now assassination, executive protection, and hitmen agencies had taken the place of any sort of police or law enforcement. Sure there was a military company, but they were more of a front for just a really big government-lead assassination group.

Now they both were roughly 26 and had seemingly flipped personalities. Kiyoomi gave presentations and orders as one of the Captains at the agency; he cleaned up the worst of the worst scenes of guts, blood, and everything else; he even went as far as to seek out the newer recruits to help them learn the tactics and routes (though Atsumu still thinks this is to make his job easier). Atsumu inverted himself, on the other hand. He rarely spoke to anyone other than his commanding officer and boss Kita, his twin Osamu, Osamu’s partner and their childhood friend Suna, and Kiyoomi, even if he didn’t see Kiyoomi outside of jobs very often, Atsumu still considered him a friend.

7 minutes and 10 seconds. This is how long it takes Kiyoomi to walk in the door of the now trashed suite of the hotel. Atsumu is frankly shocked that no one came to tell them to be quiet with the number of times they threw each other into walls.

“Miya.” Kiyoomi looks at the disheveled mess of Atsumu in front of him. His blonde hair was sticking to his forehead and sweaty from the clear struggle the target put up with. He had a still bleeding split lip and blood was smeared in his cheek, otherwise his face wasn’t too beat up. Kiyoomi knows Atsumu is one of the quickest on his feet and hates to get his face hit, so the mere fact of the split lip and blood smear kind of worries him, though he would rather drink the chemicals he brought than admit it. His clothes were intact, well sort of. There were clear slash marks in his shirt and it was barely hanging on his body. The kevlar vest he wore underneath was showing through and had a couple bullets embedded into it. “At least you lived.” Kiyoomi heard concern laced in his tone of voice, but Atsumu was too far into his own head to pick it out. The assassin was barely standing on his own, Kiyoomi was surprised he hadn’t fallen over yet.

Kiyoomi started cleaning up the scene while Atsumu just stood there blankly staring at the wall. It was times like this that he remembered the contrast to the change in their personalities. He could remember the times in high school that Atsumu used to harass Kiyoomi during training camps and at tournaments in the hallways or on court. It made him miss the loud and egocentric Atsumu that he fell in love with on the court all those years ago, but at the same time, he knew he loved the broken Atsumu just the same if not more. He relished in the moments that he was able to see him. Even if it was only during really bad assignments or on an off chance he saw him in the hallways of the agency.

“Jesus, Miya, what did ya do to him.” Kiyoomi had started moving the semi-mutilated body to the body bag he brought with him. Atsumu managed to break one of the target’s hands, their nose, and a forearm plus a plethora of various bruises and cuts. “You wrecked his hand and face up, I’m surprised you don’t look worse.” That was just the visible marks on the body, but as soon as Kiyoomi picked up the body to move it, he could hear the cracking of the already ruined spinal cord. Motioning to the body bag, “Unzip that for me, Miya.” There was no response for a moment. “Atsumu.” He stagnantly snapped his head towards Kiyoomi with wide eyes. “Can you unzip the bag for me?” Kiyoomi softened his tone.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Atsumu relaxed slightly out of the state he was in, clearly still coming down from the adrenaline of the kill. “Thanks, Omi Omi.”

“Anything for you,” quietly slips out of Kiyoomi’s mouth before he can react. Shit, he thinks, hope he didn’t register that.

Atsumu stares at the cleaner for a minute. He definitely heard it, Kiyoomi thinks while internally cursing the dead body into its grave.

The silence hung in the air similar to the icicles. Kiyoomi finished moving the body and laying down chemicals and Atsumu sitting on the floor.

Kiyoomi moved to kneel in front of the man he wanted to be okay. “Atsumu? What do you need me to wrap up?” He gestured with the piece of antiseptic and gauze in his hands.

After a second of him seeming to lag in real time, Atsumu looked up into Kiyoomi’s eyes. “Omi?” Kiyoomi nodded in response. The blond shook his head as if to clear it, “I think it’s just my arm. Fix me up. He managed to slice me with the rock by bed. I think I’m alright, all things considering. Just tired.” While Atsumu talked on and on

Between the dazed look and how messy the hit was, Kiyoomi could tell Atsumu was exhausted. So he did the next best thing to kissing him and hoped Atsumu would forget about it in the morning. Kiyoomi moved his hands from where they were finished tying the gauze around his arm and took a deep breath, pulling off his gloves. He set his bare hands to rest on the sides of Atsumu’s neck. He fought the urge to look away from the eye contact they were maintaining, though he could see the surprise clear as day across Atsumu’s face. “Tell me what you need,” Kiyoomi spoke barely above a whisper as if he were scared of startling the other man. “I’ll do anything for you, if you just tell me what it is.”

More silence. Normally the silence would be comforting to both of them, but not right now. The tension was thick enough to blanket the atmosphere. It was suffocating; Kiyoomi could feel his legs slowly lacking more and more blood flow. For what felt like hours, couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.

“Come home with me.” Kiyoomi blinked. Atsumu rambled on, “I mean look at me. I can barely stand, I’m asleep on my feet. Take me home and crash in the guestroom or something. I know you’ll harass me about making sure I clean this tomorrow, might as well just do it for me, Omi Omi,” he motions to the 2 inch wide section of his bicep now covered in a gauze wrap.

It was Kiyoomi’s turn to be shocked. “Okay.”

They stared at each other at the ease of the whole experience.

“I mean, you are right, I don’t trust you to take care of that properly.” Kiyoomi raised his eyebrows at the man on the floor. He was thankful that he had the face mask on so Atsumu couldn’t see the soft smile dancing on his lips.

There was a small spark back into Atsumu’s eyes at the slight jab, and Kiyoomi knew he would be alright.

Hey, Kiyoomi might not have had to kill a man for Atsumu, but he could at least dispose of a body for him.

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jinruihokankeikaku · 4 years

Note

Classpect analysis for an Heir of Rage?

You got it!!!!!!!! Here’s my take on our first Heir and our first Rage Player…

Title: Heir of Rage

Title Breakdown: One who passively manipulates [is transformed by or protected by, unintentionally alters, becomes one with, inherits] Rage [negative emotion/negativity/negation, revolution and the destructive consequences thereof, disruption, skepticism/critical thought, and metanarrative awareness] (A/N: Noww there’s a list!!)

Role in the Session: So, we have a Passive class with an (at first, at least) unconscious connection to Rage, the Expansive-Explosive (emphasis on the Explosive) Aspect of fiery outbursts, demoniacal mayhem, and just general rule-breaking straight down to the metanarrative level. What could go wrong, amirite? Jokes aside, the Heir of Rage is about as volatile as the Heir can get. “Gifted” with an innate supply of… anger, madness, and things what explode, our Heir isn’t going to be the easiest person to be around, let alone play a collaborative video game for the fate of the Universe with. Heirs, as their Title vaguely suggests, can start the Game with a bit of a dilettantish outlook, and the Heir of Rage especially is going to have very little tolerance for being told what to do. While Heirs begin with an intuitive connection to and surplus of their Aspect, it generally takes them quite a while to fully understand their Aspect and directly manipulate it. Certainly, prior to Ascension, the Heir of Rage would be working for Rage more than Rage was working for them. This isn’t necessarily problematic, in a Session where there is a particular “excess of Hope”, or similar oppressively-railroading structure. As I mentioned before, and as a great many Classpect theorists have noted, Rage tends to get meta harder and faster than any other Aspect – the previous statement re: railroading is absolutely directed towards the Writer(s) and Reader(s) of the story/game/fan adventure IRL as much as it’s directed at in-game entities such as Denizens, Consorts, or Prospitian/Dersite royalty.

An Heir of Rage’s Quest, and story arc in general, is going to start with a deceptive appearance of simplicity. Everything on their Planet, and maybe in their Session as a whole, will seem just a bit too easy, and the Heir will likely be among the first to note this. They’re likely to start looking for trouble wherever they can find it, trying to deliberately bend and break the rules and systems of the game – the Heir of Rage is going to see Structures and Rules like Alchemy, the gates, and even their Quest itself as challenges waiting to be overcome, as opposed to systems meant to be worked within. What they likely won’t discern at first is that this is actually what the Game wants; the Rage Aspect exists for a reason, and doesn’t automatically make a session less viable. In their seemingly chaotic frenzy of experimentation and rule-bending, the Heir will likely advance within their Quest without even meaning to; one of the perks of being bound to what is far and away the most chaotic Aspect, and (I reckon) called to the second-most-chaotic Class (the Bard is always gonna take the #1 spot there.

In terms of Strife, whether it’s with Underlings, the Black King himself, or (Skaia forbid XXXXD) other players, it’s quite likely that the Heir will be inclined to work with explosives or flammable things; Doom, Time, and Rage all have associations with fire in various forms, but Rage is absolutely the most inclined towards Spectacular Pyrotechnical Displays. There’s a risk of collateral damage here; this comes with the Rage territory, Destruction class or no. The key to being an Heir of Rage is to embrace your Rage, let go of your inhibitions, and realize that sometimes, when the system is broken, it’s better to tear it down than to try to stitch up the shambling wreck. A Life player, particularly a Witch of Life, could do great and/or terrible work with our Heir; alternatively slash additionally, a Bard of Space collaborating with an Heir of Rage would be… spectacular! If nothing else, and a Maid of Space could literally or metaphorically provide sufficient Space for the Heir to work their mysterious ways whilst posing a minimum risk to their fellow players or the integrity of the session.

Opposite Role: The Mage of Hope. Defined as one who “directly experiences, learns from, and is intimately aware of the functioning of positive emotion, faith, and the power of belief/will,” the Mage of Hope would likely not get along with the Heir to begin with, even prior to entry. Even setting aside actual game mechanics, they would clash over the Mage’s profound faith (likely, but not necessarily, religious faith), because the Heir of Rage is almost certain to be a diehard skeptic and is unlikely to be much of a believer in anything. Mages also tend to take a scientific or methodical approach to their work, while Heirs follow much more of an intuitive/shamanic/visionary path. While neither of their Classes are sufficiently Active as to lead to a serious risk of player-versus-player, they’re not going to get along, and should they wind up in a session together, it would be crucial that there be a strong leader (which, despite the Mage’s depth of knowledge and the Heir’s intuitive drift towards leadership, should not be either of them!) to manage these sorts of conflicts and prevent the team from (im||ex)-ploding.

God Tier Powers

Rage is the Expansive-Explosive-Personal Aspect – the domains over which it has influence tend to be concentrated within the individual, while its energies tend to be directed outwards and towards (quasi)-infinite growth and diffusion. If you combine that with the Heir’s slow (albeit less than steady) path towards unity with their Aspect, and the various, motley assortment of symbols that rage encompasses, here are few ideas of what you might get –

Tempest in a Teacup: The Heir, whether they fully express it or not, contains from the very start of the Game vast quantities of pure Rage. When they Ascend – and Ascension 8n’t likely to be a clean or straightforward process – they start to embody qualities of Rage within themselves, as the storm raging in within them overflows. They might be surrounded by motes of flame, or crackling with static electricity, threatening to explode from within them at any moment. When the Heir is threatened, the levee breaks, and raw elemental power sweeps out from them at a vast radius – if the threat to the newly God Tiered Heir is sufficient, enough energy could be released to level structures or even radically alter the landscape. This is a Hero you do not want to see angry.

Consumed and Confused: One of the capabilities the Heir is best known for is becoming their Aspect, and it's exhibited by every canonical Heir - The Ψsiioniic’s tremendous sacrifice, Egbert’s becoming one with the Breeze, and Equius’, well, “becoming Void” through his decline into narrative obscurity all illustrate this concept. Similarly, an Heir of Rage will fully embody Rage at the height of their power, their physical form and narrative role mutating into something monstrous, something defined by its disruption of everything near it. They might seem demonically possessed, and take on symbolic qualities associated with such possession. Physically, they would emanate their skepticism, spite, and unease with the way of things as physical force, wreathing themselves in deep purple flame, telekinetic turbulence, and impenetrable black smoke.

Worked(?) Shoot: An Heir of Rage in the God Tiers is unconstrained by such petty concerns as “narrative cohesion” and “the script”. What even is a script?? Is there one?? These are the sort of questions that will persist like an itch at the back of the Heir’s mind from the start, and burn furiously at the forefront of their consciousness once they’ve Ascended. Once they’ve come into their own and fully embraced their potential, they instinctually defend themselves not only from physical threats, but from the metanarrative threat of being written into obscurity. Should it seem as though the Heir might be relegated, or their impact negated or outweighed, they’ll do something to fix that – whether the script calls for it or not. (A/N: I am aware that this is problematic when it comes to writing, RP, gaming, and real life. That’s just the way Rage players are – problematic.)

Personality: Speaking of problematic, you may note that I described our Heir as “…[not] the easiest person to be around.” This is, I think, almost inevitable with this Classpect – but to be perfectly fair, that doesn’t mean they’re a bad person. They’d just be, to paraphrase Marx, ruthlessly critical of everything existing. A true philosopher. Kind of. Alternatively, they might just be contrarian, eternal refuseniks, perhaps even aligned with some sort of anarchistic worldview (though even that might be too structured for them). They wouldn’t be perpetually angry/enraged in a literal sense, but their Rage would show through the cracks even when they’re playing friendly. To the Heir, the lines between performance and authenticity would be quite blurred indeed, and they’d likely see “sincerity” and “irony” as equally pointless notions, preferring to just… be themselves, sticking to the script (until they don’t), and never sticking with one notion or system long enough to get comfortable.

Songs

Werewolf Gimmick by the Mountain Goats. Talk about embodying Rage!!

Prisoner of Society by the Living End

Letterbomb by Green Day

This is… an extraordinarily strange, powerful, and not entirely auspicious Classpect. I hope you found my interpretation useful; there’re definitely a few ways this one could go, so I hope I didn’t miss the mark entirely!! Thanks for the ask ::::)

~ P L U R ~

(A/N: The R stands for Rage >:o)

#rage #heir #classpect #classpect analysis #Homestuck #ask #anon #Class #Aspect

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damienthepious · 4 years

Text

im. heck. this is long. tuesday???!? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. forgive typos i’m RUSHING to get this up before i have to leave for work.

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 14)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [ao3] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: A homecoming.

Chapter Notes: These dang things just keep getting longer, don't they? Also I'm emotional. I'm so fucking emotional. Chapter specific warnings for an explicit threat of violence, not carried through with.

Arum insists on coming out to the front room for breakfast the next morning. Saving his strength is all well and good, but if Arum need be confined to that little bed for the entire time between now and their departure, he will certainly not make it that far. Amaryllis was right, that day he attempted escape. At least the view out there is different, and- well. He is comfortable in the room with the cot, by now, but it is far less clinical in Amaryllis' living space. It makes him feel less of a patient and more… more of a guest. Which he should not care about, of course.

Amaryllis relents rather quickly on the subject, provided that he agree to pick a spot and stick to it, until the evening. She is overly concerned with him, not quite paranoid but certainly delving into the territory of what Arum is comfortable referring to as fretting. She scowls when he calls it that, which is gratifying, but it also appears to make her more conscious of how delicate she is being with him, and she rolls her eyes at herself before she helps to lift him to his feet, shuffling slowly out to the table.

Amaryllis and Sir Damien keep their hands clasped between them throughout their breakfast together. Seems inconvenient, Arum thinks, pulling his eyes away from the easy way their fingers interlace. They do not have an overabundance of limbs to work with. Surely they should not impede themselves for such a- a pointless gesture.

They are-

Arum cannot say what, precisely, it is, but he feels as if something is strange between the pair of them. Or- or perhaps that something had been strange, and has now settled. They are sitting closer, and something about their proximity feels… easier. Sir Damien, in particular, seems more calm, though Amaryllis still has a layer of nervous energy to her.

Of course, Amaryllis is not particularly patient. She does not hold the tension inside of her for long, after they have finished eating.

"So," Amaryllis says, and Arum frowns instantly. "So… Damien is gonna be- coming with us for the trip."

Arum jerks his head to look at the knight, and Damien nods slightly.

"Wh-why?" Arum barks.

"Because… because I want to," Damien says quietly, and then he- smiles, soft and odd, and Arum remembers Damien's hand on his chin, despite himself, "and because I do not think it would be safe for only the pair of you to take that trip. Too many potential dangers, on both sides. I am certain that Rilla has discussed- ah, potential ways to disguise you, so that you will be in less danger from… knights."

Damien's voice has gone soft as well, and Arum can see some strange pain on his face, though Arum cannot say precisely what that indicates. How much separation can this creature feel from his own order?

"But of course that does not mean there will not still be some risk, if…" Damien pauses again. "I would feel better, being there. And… I have my part in this, as well."

"Your part ," Arum echoes. "What do you mean, your part in this?"

Damien pauses for a long moment, clearly considering his words.

"I want to see you home and safe as well, Arum. I have… committed this far. I will follow through."

"Committed?" Arum says. "I hardly think this counts as a commitment. You- you have allowed Amaryllis to- you have denied your duty in slaying me-"

Arum cuts himself off with a wince, then glances toward Amaryllis and away again. Damien does not rise to this statement, does not comment or deny.

It is clear, from the mild confusion on Amaryllis' face, that Damien has not told her the precise shape of what passed between the two of them, the previous day. What Arum nearly pushed Sir Damien to do.

"You…" Arum trails off. "Fine. If you should like to come, I do not see what it will hurt. I shall be curious to see how deep your treachery runs."

"Arum," Rilla warns.

Arum winces again, then sighs and looks away. "It is not as if I could stop you, anyway."

Damien tilts his head. Arum can see it, in his periphery.

"If it would… truly cause you distress, I would… I would worry rather deeply, but I would stay-"

"I said I could not stop you," Arum repeats in a sharp voice. "It is not as if you distress me, songbird, I simply- I do not understand."

"Yes," Damien says softly. "Well. That is… fair. It is a… somewhat complicated situation, is it not? But- but I will take this journey with you, if you allow me."

"I said I could not stop you, honeysuckle,” Arum growls, and judging by Amaryllis’ breath of laughter his tone must be unconvincing. “If that is your choice, that is your choice."

Damien's mouth curls slightly, a smile vague but pleasant, and Arum can't stand to keep his eyes on the pair of them together, though they keep drawing back, regardless.

"Very well. I will accompany you, then."

Arum huffs, wrinkling his snout. "I am surprised that your Citadel can spare you. I thought you creatures were rather strictly kept."

Damien purses his lips, then sighs. "We are… currently in something of a lull, I suppose. There was a thread our Investigator General intended to pull, but… well… when pulled, the pattern simply unraveled. There was a rash of monster attacks with similar stratagems, but they've dissipated like mist over the last… during the last few…" he trails off, his tone going blank. "The… the last few weeks."

Arum feels the twinge in his frill, knows perfectly well he is giving himself away, but Damien does not turn his eyes towards him, accusatory or otherwise.

The pause draws long, and Amaryllis is clearly hovering on the edge of words herself.

"Well?" Arum snaps, eventually. "Are you going to ask or aren't you? Go ahead, then. I told you I made weapons against your kind. What, precisely, were these consistent stratagems you were attempting to ferret out?"

"Arum," Rilla says gently, but Arum scowls more deeply as Sir Damien meets his eyes.

“Well, Sir Damien?”

Damien holds his gaze, for a quiet moment. "There were a number of creatures, in short time, utilizing powers of manipulation. Encouraging conflict, stoking self doubt, provoking pain. Assaulting the mind first, in order to more effectively destroy the body."

"Yes," Arum says in a hiss. "Yes, I am certain I created the creatures of which you speak. I cannot imagine any other could have managed to replicate my work."

"The mushrooms," Rilla murmurs, her brow furrowed. "It was- pain. Illusions of things we- things we were afraid of, things that hurt us."

Arum wishes he could burn the grubs a second time. The look on Amaryllis' face is unbearable, but then she looks up at him, raking her eyes over his face, her expression oddly desperate.

"Yes," he hisses again.

"I…" Damien's face goes mournful as Arum snaps his attention back to the knight. "I cannot say that no harm was done by the creatures, that none were killed. I cannot alleviate your guilt in that way-" Arum scoffs, but he cannot deny, not with the way Damien is looking at him. "But… but I can say that none are doing harm any longer."

Arum looks away, too uncomfortable to pretend otherwise. "If you say so."

"Regardless," Damien continues in a low, measured voice. "As to whether or not I may be spared by the Citadel- while the Investigator General searches for a new loose thread to worry over, the ranks await more specific direction, and-" Damien gives a very small laugh, and the corner of Rilla's mouth pulls into an answering smile. "And I very, very rarely use the time I am granted, for leave. More often than not, I am too worried over the prospect of leaving my fellow knights without assistance. So… none were troubled, that I wished to take my allotted time now, to assist my Rilla."

It is more of an answer than Arum expected. In truth, he had merely been trying to rile the knight again. He huffs out another breath, claws drumming on the table.

"Okay," Rilla says, drawing the word out into more syllables than it requires. "Okay. Uh, that seems settled enough for me, I think. This has been awkward enough for one morning. So, Arum, I, uh-"

She pauses, and Damien squeezes her hand, and Arum hears her breath come steadier, again. She sighs.

"So, I was thinking, we should leave either tomorrow or the day after." She pauses again. "Maybe the day after. You're standing better, and Damien's offered his horse, so- you'll ride, and we'll walk. It'll take longer, but even if we had three horses it probably wouldn't be safe for you to ride at speed anyway, you could jostle something open, or-" She bites her lip. "So. You on the horse, me and Damien walking, and- it'll be slow. What is it, two weeks to your swamp?"

"Something… something to that effect, yes. Though-" he clenches his teeth. "When we are close- we only need reach the border, I think, and we will not need to travel by foot any longer."

"The border. Okay. Okay, and, um, with the route we planned the other day, we should be…" her lips twitch into a smile. "We can do this. We can get you home, and then- ah… I've- I've made up a bunch of extra-"

Her voice- cracks a little, and some pain crosses her face. Arum blinks. He does not understand why she would be…

"For- um. For after I- for after we-" she pauses, inhaling sharply. "I made up a bunch of extra salves, and painkillers, and- and a replacement wrap, so your horn will- so your horn will keep together, and a new cast that should last until your wrist is healed and- so you won't have to worry… when I'm gone."

Arum stares at her, at the odd twisting of her almost-smile. "Ah."

I'm gonna miss him, is the only thing.

Amaryllis' voice on the recorder had been so keening and strange, and it had pulled on Arum's heart like his own yearning for the Keep and- and he could not help but believe her. She is … she is going to miss him. She will feel his absence. Such a terribly strange feeling-

And Arum had been honest, when he told her that he would miss her in return. Though, of course, Arum knows that had not been the whole of it. It is not the whole of it, but he will feel her absence, as well.

"Very…" he swallows. "Very forward thinking of you," he manages. "I… I had no fears, of course. And all I require is home, regardless. Seems a shame, I think, to make you waste an entire month ferrying me back and then needing to return. Certainly your other patients will be missing you, with your skill."

"Yeah, well, I may be the best doctor in the Citadel, but I'm not the only doctor in the Citadel. They'll manage." She smiles again, a little less certainly, and Damien squeezes her hand again.

"Do you feel ready enough for the trip, Lord Arum?" Damien asks.

Arum hates the way his own heart turns, slowly, like a key in a lock, every time Sir Damien calls him that. It is ridiculous. It is his name , it does not make sense , but- the way his tone curls around Lord, the way Arum seems to sit at the back of his mouth. Lord Arum. Respectful formality from a knight. It is … strange, that is all. It is still strange.

"I am… as ready as I shall be," he murmurs. "I cannot afford further delay. My swamp, my home, it… it has been…"

"Without its Lord," Damien finishes, gently.

"Yes. My swamp… and my Keep."

Rilla startles slightly, but Arum… Arum does not know why he has bothered to continue concealing the Keep's existence anyway, and Sir Damien has made it… abundantly clear, that his stance has changed. This stiff-spined little human has shifted his footing, has gained a new vantage, as incomprehensible as that seems.

Damien purses his lips, his face going questioning. "Have you… mentioned a Keep before?" He asks. "Or- no. I think- I think you have only nearly mentioned a Keep before."

"Perceptive," Arum grumbles, his tone hovering between irritated and impressed. "Yes. My home, my Keep." He pauses. "I have already explained it to Amaryllis, I do not- I do not feel-"

"You need not explain anything to me, Lord Arum. Home is…" he presses a hand over his heart. Arum hears his breath catch. "All creatures should be blessed with shelter, with home. It is…" he pauses again. "I am certain you will be glad to be returned to yours. We shall do all we can, to make that come to pass for you."

"Yes, well…" Arum glances aside, uncomfortable. "The sooner the better." He clasps his claws in front of himself, then glances towards Amaryllis. "The… the day after tomorrow, you said, Amaryllis. If you think I shall require the extra day."

Amaryllis nods, and Arum does not know what they will do in the interim. He had not been planning, truly, to make it this far. And now he has today, and tomorrow, to worry and wonder about this upcoming trip. To worry and wonder, about the softness of Sir Damien's hand on his chin. About the leaping of his own heart, at the gentleness with which the knight had lifted it. About the prospect of Amaryllis missing him. About all these strange and bitter hungers that have begun to curl within him.

Arum's eyes have found Amaryllis and Sir Damien's clasped hands again, tracking the way that Damien's thumb is brushing soft over the back of it, a slow, comforting rhythm, as Amaryllis' hand squeezes his. Arum's tongue flicks compulsively, and he buries the urge to-

He does not even know. He is not close enough to reach their hands, and what would he do even if he was? Even if he- if he reached out and wrapped his hand around both of their own (his hand is large enough to do so, his fingers longer than theirs, their stubby little mammal things with their blunt nails and their soft brown skin) (Arum knows the softness both of their hands, now), even if he were to do so-

Certainly they would not welcome his intrusion. Certainly not. They are both so eager to see him gone from their lives. And Arum is eager as well, of course, to return to his Keep, to return to his life. He is eager to close the door on this bizarre little chapter-

A lie. Too deep to stand.

He is not eager to close the door on this chapter. He is not ready. Two days. Two days- only two more days in this strange little hut, in this short-ceilinged human construction, full of herb smell and strange baubles and dangerous plants and skillful wordsmithing and a heretical, compassionate little doctor, and her knight.

Arum has never had a place outside of the Keep before, where he felt himself truly safe. Arum's mind is still… halved in a strange way, he still feels the absence of the Keep's thoughts at his edges, still feels where the Keep is meant to fit, where song should shift into… meaning, and affection, and shared memory, and home.

But if Arum could still feel the Keep here, he would be entirely unable to pretend, anymore, that he does not wish there was some way he could stay.

Arum intends to finish the translation, before they leave. It will not be difficult, all things considered. The tome is short, the material arranged in no particular order but with consistent notation for the entries, and he is familiar enough with a decent amount of the species listed that it speeds the process considerably. He needs not even attempt to scrawl the information out in his slightly more stilted attempt at human script, now that Amaryllis is in the room with him again. She simply sets her recorder beside him and he speaks as he works, occasionally drifting into conversation rather than translation, or narrowing his eyes at a particular peculiarity of the dialect, the drifting etymology of distance.

When he turns the page and sees the Moonlit Hermit, he freezes. After a moment, he drifts his claws down the page, tracing the single narrow line that depicts the flower's stem.

So small a thing, to cause so much trouble.

"The Moonlit Hermit," he murmurs, and Amaryllis drops a roll of bandages, the white ribboning off as it unrolls across her floor.

He raises an eyebrow as she scrambles to retrieve the roll, laughing awkwardly, and when she straightens she won't meet his eyes for a long moment.

"Amaryllis?"

"Just- forgot that one was in there too."

He tilts his head. "Why does it matter? What is the Hermit to you, then?" he asks, because if the Universe insists on piercing him through to make a point-

"My- my parents were researching it. It was a big part of their research, actually- the Hermit, what it could do- the potential it had-"

Arum frowns, automatically, remembering the particular results he had pulled from the potential of the Hermit in his possession.

"I've- I've been trying to… to find one," she says, her voice gone small, and Arum forces himself not to stare at her, at the longing on her face. He looks to the book, instead.

"I am afraid there is very little on the subject in this particular volume, Amaryllis," he says, gently, and she sighs.

"That… yeah, I kind of expected that. I couldn't read it, but- I could tell the entry was short. Shorter than most of the other ones, at least."

"It mentions the unnatural fragility of the stem," he murmurs, tracing his claw along the lettering. "Five pale petals, the glow of moonless night, the utter incongruity… hm," he traces the shape of the drawing on the paper again, remembering. "Volumes of this sort so rarely bother to note the sounds. It chimes, as well, at contact or in use. It is not the most beautiful song I have ever heard, but… it suits. Cool, and delicate."

He realizes, after a pause, that Amaryllis is staring at him. He pulls his eyes from the book, wary at her uncertain gaze.

"What?"

"You… you've heard it? You've- you've seen one. Arum- Arum, you've seen a Moonlit Hermit?" She sets her medical bag aside, her packing entirely forgotten. "Arum, please, you have to tell me where I can- how- I have to see it. I have to- to-"

His heart sinks, the hope in her voice too unfortunate to stand. "If it still existed, Amaryllis… I would certainly think it fair payment for the service you have provided me, but- it was destroyed." He pauses, sighs. "I destroyed it."

"You-" she looks too stunned to be properly furious, but Arum suspects that will come soon enough. " What?"

"Those who attacked me," he says softly, "desired to take it for themselves. To use it. Just as I had been using it, of course, to create weapons against your kind." He pauses, exhales. "I wish I could say, Amaryllis, that it had been a choice made of morality, but- I did not yet know you. I- there are many things I did not yet know, when I…" he traces the shape of the petals again, one, two, three, four, five, and his lip curls in an almost smile. "I ensured that our meeting occurred in daylight, as insurance. It was easy enough, when I realized I had been betrayed, to lift so fragile a thing into the light."

"Arum-"

"Spite. I destroyed the Hermit in spite, Amaryllis, because I knew they intended to kill me, and I did not want to give them the satisfaction of beating me, as well. Of taking what I rightfully found. I threw myself into the river for the sake of that same spite. I would rather drown than let them slit my throat, so…"

She is touching his shoulder, now. He does not look at her.

"I do not regret my actions. The Hermit could have… would have done some good, in your hands, of that I am certain, but… I am glad it was destroyed, rather than be misused again. Rather than being twisted to further bloodshed."

Her hand on his shoulder lifts, and she almost touches his face. Almost. He keeps his eyes safely away.

After a breath, she drops the hand, and turns, and returns to her packing. Arum feels his stomach twisting, regret and shame, fear, desire, all of it colliding together within him like a collapsing building, but still he does not look. He breathes and breathes until he is certain that his voice will not shake, and then he turns the page, and resumes his translation.

It feels as if Arum simply blinks, and two full days have passed. Sir Damien wakes before dawn, and Arum, his nerves sharp and heightened, wakes at his careful noise, at the click of the door behind him as he goes outside to run through his routine.

Amaryllis wakes not long after, throwing together a quick sort of breakfast and quietly going through a checklist of their supplies before she comes to, in theory, wake him.

She smiles, clearly unsurprised when she finds him already awake, already digging his claws into the sheets, and the smile stays as she helps him to his feet.

She wraps him in layers. A simple strategy, but simplicity is more reliable than the delicacy of complication, in Arum's experience. He keeps the cape on beneath the rest, and she smiles when she is done wrapping the rest around him. He can see the crooked shape of it through the sheer scarf covering his face.

And then, for the first time since he woke in Amaryllis’ hut, he steps outside.

Arum does not want to look back, to acknowledge the finality of walking away from this hut, of stepping up into the saddle and riding away from this shelter, riding back towards his true home.

He does not wish to look back.

Rather- he wishes that he did not want to.

He turns despite himself as Amaryllis adjusts the robes that hide his scales, ensuring that his tail is hidden as he curls it around his own ankle. He does not mean to, but he turns, and-

It looks so much smaller, from the outside. Squat and friendly and warm, with flowering vines curling familiar across trellises and a clean little herb garden and the mossy stump where Damien likes to sit and compose when he is finished with his exercises, and the curtained window Arum knows the shape of so terribly well, from the other side.

So many days. So very long, he has spent in such a small, strange space. And now-

He cannot imagine that he will ever see it again.

Arum is almost grateful for the ridiculous layers. At least neither of the humans can see the way his face twists, as his heart lurches with the grief of parting.

They travel light; there’s not much they need to take with them. Rilla keeps her medical bag, of course, in case of emergencies or in case the traveling impedes Arum’s recovery in some way, along with her bag of extra supplies she's gonna leave with him when they get him back home. Damien pretty much just has his armor, his bow, and his usual traveling supplies: bedroll, rations, canteen, et cetera. Arum has nothing to bring, obviously. Nothing except for his mended cape, which is wrapped secure around his shoulders beneath the rest of his mild disguise. Rilla covered him in strategic layers, scarves and shawls and large loose pants that collectively obscure his form and face as he sits sideways in the saddle of Damien’s horse, who only required minimal acclimating to adjust to the weight of a monster. Currently, Arum looks enough like an excessively ill person swaddled like an infant, or like a particularly old-fashioned noble, and hopefully they won’t need to do much by the way of explanation on the less-traveled roads they intend to use.

It’s slow going, of course. Anything more than the lightest movement could be a risk for Arum; jostling around on top of a horse isn’t exactly healthy for healing stab and slash wounds, obviously.

Every time they pass another group, Damien looks like he’s about to be sick, face twisting in a completely unconvincing smile and his voice going high and reedy if he tries to greet them. Rilla does most of the talking, for a change, and Arum sits tense and stiff and dignified astride the horse, and occasionally nods through his scarves at whomever happens to be passing by.

Nights are more difficult. They need to wander far from the road to set up camp, and they need to obscure the fire on one side to make it more difficult to see from where they came, to avoid other eyes, and they wait until it is safely dark every night before Arum can remove his layers of disguise and sigh in the open air again. He always keeps his cape safely draped around his shoulders after the rest has been left in a pile nearby, a claw curled along the edge of the fabric as he settles close and warm by the fire.

He’s tired , Rilla can tell. The travel on top of his recovery, and the constant strain of worry that comes from the threat of discovery- it’s no wonder, really. She wishes she could make this easier for him, wishes she could just snap her fingers and have him home to his Keep, but- this is the best she can do, for now. She’ll get him home, long way around or no.

"Sir Damien."

They are preparing to resume their travel in the morning, Damien packing the last of their supplies back up from their makeshift camp while Rilla tends to Damien's horse, and Arum is wrapped already in his layers as they wait for Rilla to return, to help Arum back into the saddle for the day. Damien glances down at the obscured monster, lips pursing nervously, but he does not think the monster is looking back at him. It is difficult to tell, with the layers, but Damien thinks that Arum is looking towards Rilla again.

"Yes, Lord Arum?"

He continues to stare for a moment, and then Arum glances away. His voice comes even quieter, then. "We are still close to your Citadel, little knight," he murmurs. "There is still time between us and my home, and many opportunities for this expedition to fall apart."

"Pessimism will not help the situation, Lord Arum," Damien says mildly.

"Perhaps not. But pragmatism-" he pauses, sighs. "If the worst is to happen, if I am discovered along this mad little journey… Amaryllis must not be seen as guilty for helping a monster. I refuse to have her suffer for this absurd kindness."

Damien pauses, his heart doing a swooping little flip, and he looks at Arum again in disbelief. "What-"

"If we are discovered, they must believe that I forced her to treat me, forced her to escort me home. They must believe that she was made to do it, that I threatened or coerced or- she must not be seen a traitor for my sake. Do you understand me, Sir Damien?"

Damien presses a hand over his heart, presses as hard as the thudding pressing out. He forces his breath to come steady enough for words, just for one sentence. "Rilla would not be happy, with that particular deception," he rasps, looking at his fiance through the rosy morning light.

"That," Arum says with a growl, "is precisely why I am asking you, and not the doctor herself. I trust that you will protect her. I know that you will."

Damien wishes so dearly that he could see the monster's face, just now. That he could see the look in his violet eyes.

"Honeysuckle," Arum says quietly, roughly. "Tell me that I am correct."

"This- this is not like the other day, is it? This is not more of the same, again, more of you trying to- to-"

"This is not an act of self destruction, honeysuckle." Arum stares up at him, or at least, Damien assumes that is the direction the monster is aiming his eyes. "But she must be safe."

Damien inhales, exhales, inhales.

"Rilla would never forgive me, if I caused you to be hurt in her stead. You must know that, Lord Arum."

The monster clenches his hands, his head ducking just slightly. "It is more important that she be alive, to forgive you or not." He turns his head a little further away, then, his voice going even quieter. "Of course she will forgive you, little fool. She loves you."

Damien's throat goes tight and hot and uncomfortable, his heart thrumming and thrumming, and the words boil within him but he cannot say-

Do you think I do not know that you love her as well? Can you not see that she loves you in return?

His lips part, he is going to say something too foolish for their unspoken understanding to survive, but-

Rilla is returning.

Arum's shoulders go stiff, and before she is in hearing distance he mutters, "I must trust that you will do what is right, Sir Damien."

Damien breathes slow, summoning tranquility as best he can, listening to the drumming of his own heart, and he knows that he will. He will do what is right, even if that is not the same as what Arum has asked of him.

Rilla is fairly bored on the road. She can't read effectively while walking, and they only have the one horse. She can only glean so much amusement out of cataloging the wildlife as they pass it by, but Damien knows her far too well to let her boredom sit. He starts reciting as they travel, spinning stories, sharing newer compositions, weaving tales in the air between them, accompanied by jungle noises and the hum of insects.

Rilla sings, as well, when Damien's poor voice needs a rest, and she pretends not to notice when she starts a song and Arum stiffens in recognition. Pretends even harder not to notice when he hums along, when he harmonizes in his low, careful voice. She pretends, poorly, not to grin in delight, the smile tipping her singing voice even brighter.

If she didn't feel like she was riding off to break her own stupid, stupid heart, this would be the most fun she's had on a trip in ages.

Unnatural quiet in the jungle dark, and Sir Damien comes awake with the fingers of one hand already gripped on his bow, a strange and familiar rushing in his ears.

He remembers where he is without strain. He can feel the dirt beneath him through the bedroll, can feel Rilla close beside him, can hear her breathing light.

He can hear little else besides. A stillness hangs in the night air, and Damien feels it. He feels attack waiting, can taste tension on the air. He can almost hear the source. Almost.

Damien breathes slow. Panic is a faraway thing, just now. A faraway thing that cannot possibly touch him. The rushing in his ears has gone slowly rhythmic, and Damien waits, Damien waits, Damien waits for the precise moment. For the strike. For his parry.

His heart. Rilla's breath. The rustle of leaf and soil. The padding, just low, of paws. Damien tenses, poised and prepared and waiting, waiting for just the right moment-

"If you take one… single… step… closer," says a low, guttural, growling voice, and Sir Damien realizes after a startled breath that he recognizes it. He recognizes the voice, because it belongs to Lord Arum, though it has been pitched dangerous as it echoes strange and placeless among the trees. "If you take just one more step… I will make a meal of your entrails while you still live."

There is a pause, a stillness deeper, even, than the one which came before it.

"Do not test me," Arum continues, dark and certain. "These creatures are not yours to hunt."

Another pause. Slowly, slowly, the sense of danger recedes. The night noises of the jungle resume in its absence, the whine of insects and the rustle of small creatures, and Damien knows they are safe again.

Damien has never heard Lord Arum sound quite like that, before. Dark. Dangerous. Protective. And Damien does not feel an ounce of fear, at that voice, though his heart is thudding hot.

Not yours to hunt.

Not yours, he said. Does that mean, then, that Arum considers them his?

Another long pause draws out in the darkness as Damien tries to shake the memory of Arum's voice, as he feels the gooseflesh shiver across his skin, and then there is a noise, shifting close by.

"You are awake, aren't you, honeysuckle?"

Arum's voice no longer sounds strange. It no longer echoes oddly, and the venom is gone from it, leaving the monster sounding only soft, murmuring through the black of night.

"Yes," Damien whispers.

"I did not intend to wake you," Arum hisses.

"You did not," Damien says, just as low. "I… I felt that something was wrong. I woke before you… scared the creature away. Will it return, do you think?"

"Certainly not," Arum drawls, gently. "We are close to my territory now, little songbird, and I know the sorts of scavengers that prowl my borders. I know a coward when I smell one," he hisses. "She expected an easy meal. That, we most certainly are not. She will not try again."

"How…" Damien needs to pause, to swallow. "How did you know I was awake?"

"Your breathing shifted… your heartbeat. I can hear them both from here."

It is difficult, for Damien, not to feel exposed, knowing that. He is certain that his heart is still beating hard. Harder, now.

"And… and did you slip into the trees, to frighten the creature away? I will be compelled to tell Rilla if you exerted yourself while she slept-"

"I did not budge an inch, honeysuckle. Don't be foolish."

Damien blinks, for all the good it does him. The bare hint of stars between the canopy above flickers, just for a moment. "But- but your voice, Arum," he murmurs, and when Arum chuckles low Damien can feel heat pooling odd in his stomach. "You sounded as if…"

"As if I could be anywhere," Arum murmurs , and his voice echoes again, placeless, but close and worrying. "Yes … I told you, honeysuckle, that I had some skill, some tricks up my sleeves…"

Even more worrying than Arum's voice itself: the way the low heat of it makes the answering heat in Damien's stomach pulse.

"A-Arum," Damien whispers, and he releases his grip on his bow, reaching into the dark instead, grasping in the direction that Arum's voice had seemed to come from, for those few words where he had sounded ordinary again. "Where… where are you?"

There is a brief pause, a more gentle laugh in the dark.

"I am close enough to pluck you, still, little honeysuckle," he says in a rumble that rolls down Damien's spine, and he cannot help the way his breath catches, his eyes darting in the darkness as he tries to pin Arum's place. "Have no fear." Another laugh, even warmer. "Unless… unless my proximity is what worries you, of course."

"Arum," Damien breathes, reaching his hand our further.

"I'm here," Arum hisses. "I forget the limitations of your senses. I can see you, blue as you are in the starlight. Can you truly not see me?"

"I…" Damien swallows roughly, feeling Rilla warm beside him, feeling the coolness of the dirt beneath him, knowing that this monster is somewhere, so close by, watching him through the dark. Damien shakes his head, testing.

"How interesting," Arum murmurs, and his voice is still bouncing strange, as if it could be coming from the whole of the jungle itself.

A pause drags out, then, and Damien grasps, feeling across the scattered leaves, towards where Arum's bedroll should be.

Arum's hand intercepts his own, and when the monster laughs soft again, he sounds only close, only ordinary again. "I told you, honeysuckle. I am here."

"Arum," Damien whispers, the texture of scales so strange against his palm, and Arum pulls his hand closer, touching it to- to his cheek, Damien imagines, and he can feel the rumbling of his throat and the rumbling of his voice as he speaks again.

"I did not budge an inch," he hisses again, and Damien can feel him speaking, even as his voice echoes in the canopy above.

Damien can barely focus on the fascination he feels at that, though, because the reality of Arum's face in his hand, again- the reality of the monster laying so close beside them in the dark- it is twisting so- so-

So pleasantly, within him. Damien's mouth has gone dry.

"Go back to sleep, honeysuckle," Arum murmurs, his voice gone quiet and normal again, and he squeezes Damien's hand as he moves it away from his face again. "Go back to sleep. We are safe, I assure you."

Damien believes him instantly. Damien believed him the first time, when he insisted the other monster would not return. He knows that they are safe, that the three of them together are more dangerous than anything the wilds could possibly assail them with.

"Are you certain?" he asks again, regardless, because his heart is racing and he knows that Arum can hear it, and certainly he requires this excuse for the pounding rhythm, and for the way he has not pulled his hand away from Arum's.

Arum has not pulled his hand away, either.

"We are safe," Arum repeats in a hiss. "I promise. Go back to sleep, Damien."

Damien squeezes his eyes shut, despite the dark, hoping that Arum is no longer looking at his face, that he cannot see Damien's expression in the dark.

Damien pretends that he has forgotten their hands, clasped together. He steadies his own breathing, pretends not to feel his own heat permeating Arum's hand, and-

And Arum does not pull his hand away, either.

Arum does not pull his hand away. Not before Damien falls back asleep in truth, at least.

The rumors are true, apparently.

They can see it in the distance when they round the crest of a hill, a gap in the canopy of trees above the road giving them a decent look towards the swamp in the distance that is apparently Arum’s home.

The swamp that is also, apparently, creeping outward.

They can see outcroppings of new-grown swamp greenery that stands out among the wider jungle, pushing past the usual border between the two, and even at this distance Rilla can see the speckling of purple from the blooms that give the swamp its name as well, and from this perspective the growth looks like curling fingers, reaching out.

Searching, Rilla thinks. A desperate hand, combing through the jungle to look for the missing ruler currently bundled up on the horse behind her. She glances back towards him, and even hidden behind the layers of cloth she can see the tension in his frame, can feel the impatient energy radiating from him.

“Almost there,” she says, and he tilts his head down towards her with a sharp breath. “Not much farther, now.”

He nods, and she sees him hesitate for only a moment before his eagerness gets the better of him.

“If one of those- those outgrowths is close enough, we should aim for it. We may be afforded a shortcut. Save further time,” he hisses quietly, and that’s pretty confusing but Rilla nods in response. He knows this place better than she does, after all.

Damien holds his own tongue for a moment before he points out one in particular, a vivid purple growth curling out, and quietly suggests a path they could take in that direction, a smaller road that should take them close.

Arum grows more and more agitated as they make their approach, and they all notice at the same moment that the outgrowths aren't the only strange thing about the swamp's border, nor are they the only new growth. She understands belatedly why the border was so easy to see from a distance-

There is a wall. The foliage on the edge is tightly packed, unnaturally so, the trees interwoven with newer saplings and quick vines, an enormous wicker boundary spotted with bright splotches of poisonous plants (Rilla can tell, even at this distance). Arum picks up a low growl, compulsive and continuous, and Rilla clenches her hands tight but she doesn't warn him against the noise. She doubts any other humans would be coming this close while the swamp is doing… whatever this is, and honestly, she can't blame him for the distress.

He's practically snarling to himself by the time they reach the border, his tail thrashing noticeably beneath his layers, and Rilla's stomach gives a sympathetic twist as Damien carefully, carefully helps Arum lower himself from the saddle.

"Okay," Rilla says. "Obviously this is… less than ideal."

"An understatement, Amaryllis. Look at- look at this! What- what could it possibly-" he gestures sharply towards the wall, then hisses in pain and draws the limb back to himself.

Damien makes a worried noise, an arm still supporting the monster as he fidgets, growling low, and then he eyes the wall with a considering look. "Hm. Perhaps I will close the borders entirely," Damien murmurs, and Rilla doesn't understand his words or his tone until he looks to Arum again. "I think you said that, when I asked what you intended to do when you returned home. It seems that others had similar thoughts, in your absence, Lord Arum."

Arum scoffs, then gently pushes himself from Damien's grip, standing straighter on his own, stiff and strained. "Foolishness. Ridiculous," he mutters as he starts to pull the layers off, unwinding scarves from his neck. "All this will do is draw undue attention-"

The sound of wings above compels Damien to draw his bow instantly, and his eyes dart to the foliage above more quickly than Rilla can follow, fixing on the source, the wide wingspan and gleaming threat of talons as they descend, and Damien's stance tightens, drawing the string more taut-

"Wait- stop-"

At Arum's choking cry Damien's poise falters, his aim going wide, the arrow finding purchase in the wicker wall instead of the quickly dropping- thing-

Arum tears the hood from his head, tears the last of the layers off beside his cape, his frill flaring and a grin curving his mouth, and he makes a strange warbling call, clear and loud and near to birdsong, and the wings above startle, fluttering sharp, and then there is an answering cry before the shape descends even faster.

"Arum-"

"Lord A-"

Arum nearly falls as the feathered shape collides with him, but he is laughing, now, as he makes more of those strange noises, and Rilla finally manages to parse exactly what the hell just happened, because there is an enormous heron shuffling from one taloned foot to the other on top of Arum's shoulders, shoving its beaked face into Arum's horns and squawking in a way that sounds both irritable and excited.

"Yes- foolish thing," Arum breaks into another laugh, and then into another strange warble as he lifts a hand to gently push the beaked face from pecking at the edge of his frill. "Obviously. Of course I did. Of course I did, you little- did you doubt? No-" he trills again, bright, and the heron ruffles up and makes a chuffing noise. "Of course I did," Arum says again, gentler, tapping the bird softly beneath the beak, and then he seems to remember Rilla and Damien, still watching.

Rilla's breathing hasn't entirely slowed from the shock, yet, but she's smiling now as she watches him, and Damien has come close beside her, stowing his bow again and pressing a hand over his mouth to bury his own smile, and Arum's frill ruffles by his neck at their observation.

"Er-"

"A friend?" Rilla asks, an eyebrow raising.

"One of my- my subjects, I suppose you could say," Arum murmurs, and he can't seem to help the smile as the bird presses its head into his horns again, trilling sternly. "Yes, I know. Hush." He gives the bird an equally stern look despite the laugh he gives, and then he lifts an arm for the creature to step to. "I know," he says quietly. "But you are frightening the horse, and I would rather not be kicked, little creature. I am nearly mended once, I would not like to suffer recovery a second time. Find your flock, spread the word if you must."

The bird squawks irritably, aiming its beak towards the humans for a moment before it turns back to Arum and flaps its wings at him.

"I said find your flock," he says in a low, fond growl. "Go on, you ridiculous thing. You need not worry for me. Go on."

The bird shifts from foot to foot on Arum's arm, chattering lightly, and then it pecks at the tip of Arum's snout and flaps before it lifts off, flying back up into the canopy again, singing something loud and joyous as it goes.

Arum sighs, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the creature is gone from him, but he clearly can't bury his smile. Damien takes Rilla's hand, and then they both come close to Arum, and Rilla lifts her other hand to touch the monster's elbow.

"Seemed excited to see you," she says, her tone only barely teasing, and his smile is so entirely warm, and Rilla and Damien's hands tighten together, each squeezing at the same moment.

"Yes, well," he makes a rattling noise low in his chest, still smiling. "I imagine they will all be quite ready for the swamp to return to normal."

"What do we do, then, about the wall?" Damien asks, gently, and Arum's smile flickers off.

He frowns, eyeing the woven greenery, and then he grumbles, "Bring me closer. It should still answer… it should still… still be able to hear."

Rilla doesn't exactly understand what that means, but- she figures he knows what to do in this situation better than she does, anyway, so she helps him. After a step or two Damien steps up on his other side, supporting him further.

"Thank you," Arum murmurs when they are close enough, and then he very gently pulls away from their hands. He lifts his own hand, and just barely touches the tangle of foliage, and then he swallows, chest rumbling. "Keep?"

Rilla barely manages to stop herself from reaching for him again. He sounds so- so desperate, and the urge to help him is-

"Keep. Can you hear me?" He pauses, and Rilla can see that he's trying not to cringe as he runs his hand along the vines. "Keep, I'm here, I- I need you to let me in."

Nothing changes, for a long moment. Beside her, Damien reaches a hand out, gripping Rilla's hand tight again, his nerves mirroring her own.

"Keep," he says again, keening clear in his voice. "Keep, please-"

Arum stumbles back as vines burst from the ground, new and accompanied by harmonious song, overtaking the wall and forming an archway that fills with magic, with- with a door, leading somewhere quite different from the swamp they could see past the wall.

Arum chokes a breath, warbles in further harmony with the song, and on shaking legs he bolts through the archway.

The Keep winds its vines around him so quickly that he is in the air before his feet even touch the floor of his home, before he has time to even breathe a syllable. It sings bright and clear and joyful, and it slots its mind soft against his again, precisely as their minds are meant to fit, in tune again so instantly that the vines don’t even come close to accidentally brushing any of the healing wounds that might still suffer from the pressure, and Arum can’t help the way he chokes, the way his throat goes tight and his eyes go hot, because-

He has missed his Keep so, so unbearably much.

He was never meant to be away for this long. His limbs are shaking with the relief of it even as he clings to its supportive vines, as he brushes his palms over the new bursts of flowers it is gleefully blooming around him. He’s so tightly enmeshed, so thoroughly cocooned, he wouldn’t have even noticed Amaryllis and Damien following through the portal if he could not feel the precise moment the Keep notices them.

The Keep notices them, and it is filled instantly with terror.

The humans are wound tight in vines nearly as quickly as Arum himself was, though these new vines are substantially less friendly as they pin Amaryllis and Damien against the wall with a discordant trill.

Arum feels the wash of terror pulse through with confusion, fury, protectiveness, and the vines around the humans continue to tighten. Arum’s heart skips, and he scrambles, reaching a hand through the bramble around him towards his- his- whatever, precisely, they are to him.

“Stop-” he snarls, the full force of his denial pushing out into his home, compelling the Keep to pause. The vines cease tightening, though they do not release. “Don’t hurt- don’t hurt them. They did not harm me, Keep, of that I can assure you,” he says in a breathless rush. “They did not harm me. They- they-”

The Keep stills, feeling his thoughts, and the grip it has upon the humans is already loosening. Arum needs not say more; the Keep understands him. It understands, and it loves him, and he needs not say a single word more.

He will say it anyway. It is true.

“They brought me back to you,” he says, his voice ragged and too full, and the both of them stare at him as they are lowered gently back to the floor. “They brought me home.”

[->]

#elle's fanfic #scattered on my shore #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #sir damien #YELLIN AND YELLING I BEG U TO TELL ME FEEDBACK

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pointedly-foolish · 4 years

Text

[ í'm вαd вєhαvíσur вut í dσ ít ín thє вєѕt wαч ]

word count: 6320

pairing: connor | rk800/gender-neutral!reader

genre: fluff; kinda crack treated seriously

« i won’t tell if you don’t? you offered. »

you’re sure you had a harder time persuading others compared to this detective model android...

both.

and uh, the story went out of hand and evolved by itself.

ping. a small popup in the top right corner of his hud caught his attention as he rearranged his folders, neatly putting them in his bag.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[ 1 ᴺᴱᵂ ᴹᴱˢˢᴬᴳᴱ: Love ]

> hey im outside waiting for u xx Noted. <

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you chucked the spare helmet you brought towards him—which he caught effortlessly—« come on, i wanna show you something. »

[ ᴬᴺᴬᴸᵞˢᴵᴺᴳ ]

« so? what d’you think? your eyes were directly on him now. i know you had your reservations about this place... »

« i won’t tell if you don’t? you offered. »

he swears to god, or ra9, or whatever higher power there is, that you will be the death of him.

« get off. your ordered. he followed the command without a word. – we’re gonna walk the rest of the way. you added. »

« wanna crash at my place? you offered. – i’d be more than happy to, he obliged. »

you were too gone to reply, but regardless, he left for work with a small smile.

« you can just take a walk, you don’t need to use me as a fucking excuse. – alright. he answered placidly. »

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[ SENDING AUDIO-VISUAL FEED TO RK800 #313 248 317-60—COLIN ] [ LINK ESTABLISHED. WAITING PERMISSION… ] [ ACCEPTED. ]

the android could hear his brother cackle at his misery. though outside of earshot, the sound echoes in his mind as the link was not yet severed.

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unknown number [ two missed message ]

> what the fuck did you get connor into? > ???????

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bzz. bzz. a new message?

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unknown number [ 1 new message ]

> i know you saw the messages, fuckibg answer

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you also had a new message from connor, though his message didn’t bode well for you either:

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connard2 anderson <3 [ 1 missed message ]

> we need to talk. > ):<

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the use of the emoji made you chuckle, but you were scared of what the future brought for you. oh boy… you were in deep shit weren’t you…

e͟p͟i͟l͟o͟g͟u͟e͟:

f͟o͟o͟t͟n͟o͟t͟e͟s

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#detroit: become human #connor detroit: become human #connor x reader #connor rk800 #rk800 detroit: become human #rk800-60 detroit:become human #hank anderson detroit: become human #falsely writes

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