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wirewitchviolet · 21 days ago

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Sudokuvania: Digits of Despair is one of the most impressive works of pure game design I have ever seen.

Before I say anything else, I am going to be talking about a game that is VERY new and has pretty terrible search optimization, so in case this blog post somehow came up near the top of results for someone, here is the as-of-this-writing-current 1.02 release, and for good measure, here is the official FAQ page with the full version history, any future patches, and an FAQ for some of the more confusingly worded stuff that crops up later into the game. Now on with the praise-heaping!

So... Sudokuvania pretty much exactly what the name implies. It's a -vania, that is, a Metroidvania, and specifically one styled after one of the ones that's actually in the latter Castlevania series so that naming convention actually makes sense. Exploring a big castle, fighting bosses, getting various items letting you explore more areas, maybe breaking out of the borders of the map to find cool secrets here and there.

Also, it's a variant of sudoku. And I don't mean someone sat down with some videogame designing toolkit and made a videogame where some of the gameplay is solving logic puzzles on a grid you fill with numbers (I mean, I guess technically I do). I mean that link to the game I posted takes you to a website with a little built in standard app for solving sudoku puzzles and weird variations thereof, and the particular puzzle it's pointing to, somehow, manages to have a big map to explore, boss fights, special items that give you new powers, NPCs, and for good measure, fog of war. It is, again, an absolutely amazing hacky thing and I'm flabbergasted at how well executed it is. Now you're probably wondering how that even works, and that's why I'm writing this big gushy blog post. Here's what you see when you first load it up:

You're going to notice there is some absurdly small and kind of important text you can't possibly read, and that's because again, this is kind of a hacky thing this site so was not designed for. So it's kind of annoying but if you access this through the proper introduction page, it'll explain that the first thing you need to do is click the little gear icon in the floating tool palette, toggle on Visuals: Draw arrows above lines and Disable emoji replacement, then scroll all the way down to Experimental and turn on Test Large Puzzle UI. That enables you to zoom in and out with the scroll wheel, and right-click drag to pan around. It's... a little clunky because again, this website was NOT built for this, but tada, now you can zoom in, read the text, and start solving at a reasonable size. Then there's a couple gameplay concepts it does its best to explain, but... most people I've shown it to myself included needed extra explanation of a couple important early concepts. So let me just do a little color coding here to make this easier to get...

The map is not, in fact, one great big grid. It's 9 squares (and one rectangle that's not quite square over on the east side). Each of these is its own 9x9 Sudoku grid (well, the starting one is 6x6 and has those mutant 2x3 cells instead of the usual 3x3, and there's that weird eastern mutant). If you're solving stuff in one square, you completely ignore everything outside that square, except for where they overlap, in which case the numbers you're placing have to fit for both puzzles. So if we look at the light grey/green intersection on the left, those three overlap cells respectively can't be 4 6 or 5 (and whatever use you deduce in the grey box, but the pure green cells completely ignore all that, you're just focusing on the green 9x9 (which is going to have the overlap as a starting point, naturally).

The next bit that through me off a ton is the way fog of war works. Let me reasonably zoom in and do a little solving here. One second...

Here's the whole starting area all marked up to hell like you do when you're kinda bad at Sudoku and don't know how to spot a starting point. Penciling in little numbers in the corners. You'll also notice a that... most of the map is covered in this dark grey fog of war. A lot of in-game stuff mentions that you shouldn't go clicking out into the fog of war, because it'll show you names of later areas and preview certain special rules and all, but that's talking about clicking WAY off from what you can see. You are 100% allowed to solve stuff out in the fog of war, and it's pretty stingy about de-fogging. Don't go blindly guessing because then you can maybe end up sequence breaking but... yeah. Sorry I'm spoiling the Front Gate, it's basically the tutorial though. Anyway, first move is obvious, only one place we can put that 6, and suddenly...

Tada, important space so it rewarded us with a little fog clearing. You can also see that this will handily point out stuff in your pencil notes that can't be true, but only if A- it's untrue for standard sudoku reasons not special stuff, and B- it's not in the fog of war (or on the other side of some. You also maybe noticed that weird green thing under that first hint 6? That's something we need a tool for, you don't worry about it until you have that tool. Solving this out some more...

Little more de-fogging, both of the puzzle area and the margins where we're getting new information on playing the game in general. Now right here if you're observant, you'll see that bottom right corner has to be a 6. It's out in the fog of war, but you can mark it if you know what it is. And...

I was cropping it out before but the big purple number pad is always floating off to the side there, and the green text box over it, which among other things has an area name and flavor text for whatever grid you're in. This won't ALWAYS happen when you place numbers in fog of war, but there was a trigger on this 6 to load in a little piece of the first real area, and oh hey, we unlocked "Guide THERMO!" That's our first tool, and it's described up in the upper left.

So tada, from here out in addition to standard sudoku stuff, you've got these "bronze Guide THERMOs" that show up here and there and have this extra rule. You basically never get free numbers in the grid past the Front Gate, it's all slow-marching into new areas using what you're bringing in plus some easy starting examples of how your new tools work, plowing on from there. The fog of war is pretty stingy but it keeps you focused. You'll also notice the rules here mention bosses, all the 9x9 ones have one. It's clearly marked, and you should PROBABLY expose it from the fog first, but any time you're in the area really you, if you scroll around in that green text box or hit the rules button when in a grid, there's a link you can click to go fight it. The boss fights are all separate puzzles (site's good about auto-saving so don't freak out if it takes over your tab and you have to hit back after). These are very themey, sometimes VERY evil (especially boss #1, feels a bit overtuned) self-contained 9x9 puzzles, probably using the same tools their area is themed around, and I don't think there's a single pre-placed number in any of them. Beat the boss puzzle, it gives you some flavor text and a number to place in its cell back in the main castle puzzle, plug that in and you're always going to unlock something cool. Usually a new item, sometimes other weird stuff, and it just goes on like that.

Don't expect to be able to fully solve a given grid in one go. It's a Metroidvania, backtracking is expected. Even if you've fully de-fogged a grid, later stuff might reward you by straight up adding new symbols you couldn't see before or doing weird stuff with fog. It IS all solvable with pure logic... but there ARE a few places that do that thing I hate in tougher sudokus where you just kinda have to pencil in in a different faction and explore 2 possible futures for a bit to see which eventually contradicts itself. And of course the last couple of grids do some really evil mind-bendy stuff.

But yeah aside from a couple gripes where the way a tool works could maybe be a lot more grammatically clear, that first boss being a lot to deal with as you're first getting your feet wet, and a particularly cruel twist later on, I don't really have any complaints. Well, it might need a cool soundtrack. Maybe play some Castlevania music. Maybe switch it up for some real proper boss music when you're nearing victory.

youtube

Again I am just completely blown away that someone made something so meaty in a standard sudoku site's normal UI, and really managed to make it feel so much like playing a DS Castlevania. Some real proof of game design being an art form here. And now you too can just completely lose a day or two to it!

#Sudokuvania #Metroidvania #Castlevania #sudoku #game design #puzzles #sudokuvania digits of despair #yes there's wall meat of course there's wall meat #Youtube

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softlypossessive · 22 days ago

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♡･ﾟ𓏸 Lead By Example 𓏸･ﾟ♡

♡ Characters: Trafalgar Law x gn!reader (pre-relationship) ♡ Warnings: Snarky/dark-humored reader, kusarigama-wielder (no fight scenes here, reader just carries it around), quiet emotional intimacy, late-night tension, mutual insomnia, mutual pining, heavy banter, dimly lit library vibes, slow burn energy ♡ WC: ~2k ♡ Notes: I didn’t want to default to the usual sunshine-soft pairing Law often gets (as much as I love that dynamic), so I tried something with a sharper edge. This reader’s a little more serious, kind of snarky, and carries a kusarigama like it’s part of their spine—but I still wanted it to feel like a reader insert rather than a full OC. I’m not always confident with banter writing, so fingers crossed it flows okay. It ended up more tender than I expected, but honestly? I think Law needed that.

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

The Polar Tang’s library was a cramped little haven carved into the submarine’s steel skeleton, a rare pocket of quiet at 1:00 AM when the crew was dead to the world.

No creaking wood here—just the low hum of machinery thrumming through the hull, the occasional metallic groan as pressure shifted outside, and the faint clank of pipes settling.

A single lantern dangled from a bolted bracket, its amber glow washing over shelves stuffed with medical texts, charts, and a few battered novels Bepo probably smuggled in. The air was thick with the scent of old paper, rust, and that sharp tang of recycled oxygen.

You’d claimed a rickety chair hours ago, one leg kicked up on a crate, your kusarigama hooked at your hip—chain coiled tight, sickle gleaming like a promise of trouble.

You were slogging through a medical journal on regenerative cell theory, eyes glazing over, when you felt him before you saw him.

Soft boots on metal, a shift in the stale air, that heavy presence Trafalgar D. Law hauled around like a loaded gun.

You didn’t look up.

“Late night again, huh?” he said, voice rough, scraped raw from too little sleep and too much coffee.

You flicked a page, smirking.

“Look who’s talking, Captain. You stalking me now?” He stepped closer, boots scuffing the deck.

“Noticed you weren’t in your bunk,” he shot back, dry as bone.

“What, you doing bed checks?” you said, finally glancing up, brow arched.

“Keeping tabs on my crew,” he corrected, sharp and fast, like he’d been waiting for that jab.

He loomed there, framed by the hatchway, all loose black sweats and an unzipped hoodie, no shirt��tattoos stark against lean muscle, shadows cutting across his collarbone. His hair was a disaster, dark strands jutting out like he’d wrestled with it and lost, and those gray eyes, rimmed in exhaustion, pinned you with that infuriating mix of menace and calm.

“Can’t sleep either, I take it?” you said, leaning back, letting your kusarigama’s chain clink against your thigh.

“Obviously,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

You nodded at the chair across from you, its faded upholstery patched with mismatched thread

“Sit, then. I won’t rat you out.” He eyed it, then you, before dropping into it with a grunt, legs sprawling like he owned the damn place.

The lantern swayed faintly, light bouncing off the riveted walls. You went back to your book, pretending to read.

“You’re gonna crash if you keep this up,” you said, casual but pointed, eyes on the page.

“Funny, I was about to say the same to you,” he fired back, voice dripping with that smug edge he wielded like a blade.

You snorted, flipping a page you hadn’t even skimmed.

“I’m not the one holding this crew together. You go down, we’re fucked. Lead by example, Captain.”

The hum of the sub filled the silence, a low drone underscoring the weight of your words. He didn’t bite back right away, just let it hang.

“You think they’d follow me that far?” he asked after a beat, quieter, like he was testing you.

You met his stare, gray clashing with yours in the dim glow.

“Think? No. I know they would. I would.” His eyes narrowed, searching your face—maybe for bullshit, maybe for something else.

The silence stretched, thick with the clank of a distant pipe and the faint buzz of the lantern’s filament.

He shifted, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“That’s a hell of a bet,” he said, voice low, dry.

“Not a bet if it’s a sure thing,” you countered, smirking just enough to rile him.

He huffed—a ghost of a laugh—and you caught the flicker of it in his eyes before he masked it. You closed the book with a snap, tossing it onto the crate.

“Medical alchemy crap. Boring as shit,” you said, stretching your arms until your shoulders popped, kusarigama swaying at your hip.

His gaze tracked the motion, lingering on the weapon’s glint, then up to your face.

“You’re still reading it,” he pointed out, deadpan.

“Masochism’s my specialty,” you shot back, grinning.

“Explains why you’re still awake talking to me,” he said, and there it was—banter with teeth, sharp enough to cut.

You stood, pacing the tight space, the chain of your kusarigama rattling against your leg.

“You’re one to talk, caffeine fiend. Those bags under your eyes got bags.”

He leaned back, arms crossed, watching you move.

“And you’re a ray of sunshine, huh?”

“Only when I’m annoying you,” you said, stopping to lean against a shelf, facing him.

“Which is always,” he muttered, but his lips twitched, betraying him.

“Good. Keeps you sharp,” you said, tapping the sickle’s handle at your hip.

He didn’t argue, just kept staring, like he was peeling you apart layer by layer.

“You don’t have to play lone wolf all the time,” you said, softer now, cutting through the snark.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

“That a suggestion or an order?”

“Take it how you want, Law. Just saying—you matter more than you think.”

The words landed heavier than you meant, and his jaw tightened, just a flicker, before he smoothed it over.

“You’re full of shit,” he said, but there was no venom in it—more like he was testing how far you’d push.

“And you’re a stubborn asshole,” you replied, stepping closer, close enough that the lantern threw your shadow over him.

“Rest sometime, yeah? Don’t make me chain you to your bunk.”

He smirked, faint but real.

“You’d like that too much.”

“Maybe,” you said, matching his grin, then turned for the hatch.

“Night, Captain.”

“Night,” he called after you, voice lingering as you slipped out, the metal clang of the hatch shutting behind you.

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

Law stayed put, slouched in that shitty chair, staring at the spot you’d been. The library felt colder now. Urgh, what a load of crap.

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard. You’d gotten under his skin, and he hated it—hated how your words stuck, how that damn kusarigama of yours glinted like it was mocking him every time you moved.

He’d noticed it again tonight, hooked at your hip like an extension of you, all fluid menace and style.

He didn’t touch it—wouldn’t, not when it was yours—but he’d thought about it, the weight of it, the way you swung it like breathing. Fuck, he was losing it.

He stood, pacing the tight space, boots scuffing the deck.

The sub groaned, metal flexing under pressure, a reminder of where they were—trapped in this steel coffin, chasing a fight they might not win.

Lead by example.

What a joke.

He wasn’t some shining beacon. He was a bastard with a plan and a crew dumb enough to follow it. But you’d said it like you meant it, like you’d seen something he hadn’t.

He stopped, leaning against the desk, staring at the hatch.

You’d left, but he could still feel you—the weight of your stare, that smart-ass mouth. He muttered a curse, low and vicious, and sank back into the chair. Sleep wasn’t coming. Not tonight.

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

You were back in your bunk, sprawled out, kusarigama propped against the wall within arm’s reach—never out of sight, never left behind.

The room was a steel box, bare except for a locker and a porthole showing nothing but black water. The sub’s hum vibrated through the mattress, steady, relentless.

You couldn’t shake him—Law’s tired eyes, that half-smirk when you’d pushed his buttons, the way he’d gone quiet when you’d said he mattered.

Asshole.

Why’d he have to look at you like that, all guarded and raw, like he didn’t know what to do with you?

You rolled over, glaring at the ceiling.

You weren’t some lovesick idiot.

He was your captain, a cold-blooded prick who’d cut out his own heart if it got in his way. But you’d follow him into hell, and that’s what pissed you off most—not the loyalty, but how it twisted something deeper, made you notice dumb shit like the ink on his skin, the way his voice dropped when he was too tired to hide.

You punched the pillow, muttering, “Fuck off, Law,” to the empty room, and shut your eyes.

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

Next night, you were in the library again. Same lantern, same chair, different book—surgical logs, bloodier and less bullshit than the last. The hatch creaked, and there he was, same sweats, same hoodie, same shirtless crap that made your pulse kick despite yourself.

“You’re predictable,” he said, dropping into the chair across from you.

“Says the guy who keeps showing up,” you shot back, not looking up.

“Touché,” he muttered, slouching like he was daring the chair to break.

“Still can’t sleep?” you asked, flipping a page.

“Still nosy?” he countered, voice dry.

You smirked.

“It’s my job to keep you honest.”

“You’re shit at it,” he said, but there was a spark in his eyes, a challenge.

“And you’re shit at resting,” you fired back, closing the book. “We’re a pair.”

He snorted, leaning forward.

“A pair of what?”

“Idiots, apparently,” you said, standing, kusarigama clinking as you moved.

His gaze flicked to it, then back to you.

“You ever put that thing down?”

“Not when I might need to whip your ass into shape,” you said, grinning.

He stood too, stepping closer, cutting the space between you.

“Keep dreaming,” he said, voice low, teasing.

“You’re the one who can’t stay away,” you replied, holding his stare.

The hum of the sub faded, the air tightening.

“Maybe I like the view,” he said, and it wasn’t just banter anymore.

You laughed, sharp and quick, breaking it.

“Smooth, Captain.”

“I try,” he said, smirking, and you both let it drop, the tension simmering but unspoken.

♡｡ﾟ☁︎｡♡ﾟ

The third night, he found you on deck instead.

The library had felt too small, too warm, so you’d taken your brooding outside, leaning against the railing with the sea stretching endless and black around you.

The air was cool, salted, the stars sharp overhead. Your kusarigama dangled from your hand, chain swaying with the ship’s motion.

Law appeared beside you, silent as a shadow, hands in his pockets.

“Not the library,” he said, voice rough from disuse.

“Change of pace,” you replied, not looking at him.

He leaned against the railing too, close enough that your shoulders nearly touched. The wind tugged at his hair, his hoodie, and you caught the faint scent of him—ink, antiseptic, something sharper underneath.

“You’re predictable,” he said after a while.

“Says the guy who shows up every night,” you countered, twirling the sickle absently.

He didn’t laugh, but his silence felt amused. You stood there together, the sea lapping at the hull, the quiet stretching long and easy.

“You ever stop?” he asked eventually, voice low, serious.

“Stop what?”

“Worrying about me.”

You glanced at him, his profile sharp against the night sky.

“You ever stop giving me reasons to?”

He didn’t answer, just looked out at the water, jaw tight.

You sighed, letting the kusarigama’s chain clink against the railing.

“You’re a stubborn bastard, Law.”

“Takes one to know one,” he said, and this time he turned, meeting your eyes.

The space between you shrank, not physically but in every other way, the air humming with something unspoken.

You could’ve pushed, could’ve said more, but you didn’t. Instead, you bumped his shoulder with yours, light, deliberate.

“Lead by example,” you murmured.

He didn’t reply, but his hand brushed yours on the railing, fleeting, intentional.

And for once, he didn’t pull away.

𓏸⋆｡˚☁️˚｡⋆𓏸

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imagine-darksiders · 5 months ago

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Absolute Anarchy - chapter 2

The Bull.

A Darksiders/Scp au.

Cw: Animal death, threat, guns, shooting, references to goring, livestock, abuse, blood.

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

Two days.

By your count, it’s been two days since you were pulled from the SCP’s cell and tossed unceremoniously back into your own with Mullins’s gloat echoing in your ear.

“Enjoy solitary, Scuzz.”

A slammed door, a buzzing overhead light, and nothing but your peeling wallpaper and creaky bed springs to keep you company…

Two days is beginning to feel like an eternity.

You have to remind yourself that it’s not.

They’ve only given you four meals, after all.

Taking a mental account of the trays that are shoved through the slat in your door is just about the only way you can measure the passage of time in here. Two meals a day, morning and evening. That’s the facility’s standard. And they’re all ‘served’ to you with the decorum of throwing slop to a pig.

Apparently, you revoked your rights to eat in the mess hall with the other D-Class after you refused to follow orders to shoot at the new SCP, or so you assume.

The first day was embarrassing, to say the least. You spent it in a state of near-complete hysteria, wailing and pitching a fit at the locked door, out of your mind with fear that at any moment, they’d come through it and drag you off to a fate worse than death. When you were hoarse in the throat, and your eyes red-raw from trying to scrub them dry, you hunched over in the corner like an animal, shivering violently in sporadic bursts.

Then the first meal arrived.

You ignored it, and it sat there unappealingly on the shelf attached to the slat on your side of the door until, hours later, that slat scraped open again and the second tray was shoved through, neatly sending its predecessor clattering to the floor.

It sounded so much like the gun you dropped in that thing’s cell.

It takes another few hours to muster the courage to unfold yourself from the corner and stumble towards the food, stepping absentmindedly around the grey porridge going hard on the floor.

The second day is spent on your back, staring bleakly up at a grey ceiling and trying to occupy your mind. Inevitably, your thoughts turn to the SCP. Moreso, the colossal gun fused with its biological arm, and the chambers that had been pointing straight at you, so much like Mullins’s Beretta…

But it hadn’t fired a single round…

Why…?

Well, you suppose you have an indeterminate amount of time to muse on its reasoning. You have no idea how long they plan to keep you in solitary, after all.

However, as punishments go, you think this one has so far been remarkably tame.

Nearly two whole days without being thrown to the wolves! Marvellous, in the grand scheme of things.

You suppose if anything, you ought to just settle in and enjoy the relative peace and quiet where you aren’t being tested against the nightmares of this facility. Why, this isolation is practically bliss!

Of course, no sooner have you thrown that semi-optimistic spin on your situation…

“Oi!”

Somehow, not even complete and total separation from your fellow humans could make you miss the sound of Mullins’s strident shout.

When your door is roughly hauled open for the first time in days, you feel no joy or elation, and certainly not gratitude. All you know is the unshiftable ball of dread rolling around in your guts.

Mullins looms in the doorway once more, his lips moulded around a cigarette that hangs loosely between his teeth.

“Get movin’,” he growls, the dog end of his cig flaring like a red-hot poker, “Dinner time.”

-----

Is it comedic or tragic to find yourself once again standing rigidly in SCP-8103’s loading dock? Because you sure as Hell don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When you arrived, you half expected the scientists to shove another rifle in your hands and order you to finish what you never even started. Instead, much to your astonishment and trepidation, they hadn’t given you so much as a by-your-leave before they forced you through the doors at gun point.

No instructions. No way to defend yourself. Just your jumpsuit, and your wits – which seem few and far between these days.

Chewing ravenously on your lip, you wait for the secondary door to start ascending; just another yawning beast opening up to welcome you into an entirely different maw.

You really, really don’t like what Mullins had alluded to when he said, ‘dinner time.’

Are you finally being thrown to the very deadly wolf?

The SCP did have teeth, you recall in uncomfortable detail. Very big, very sharp teeth, suggesting to you that it must have to use them at some point. Though for what, you hardly dare imagine.

You’d convinced yourself you got lucky the first time you were pulled from the cell without being riddled by giant bullets. Now you wonder if your luck wasn’t just biding its time, waiting for you to let your guard down before it suddenly pulls the rug out from under you and abandons you to your fate.

The secondary door of the loading dock whooshes open to admit you, and you have to release a shaky breath when no body flops through the gap. Then it occurs to you that the bodies might not have been removed by human hands, and suddenly you feel like being sick all over again. The blood is still there, of course, dark and dry and crusting over the tiniest cracks in the floor. But at least most of the truly gory viscera is… absent.

With an audible gulp, you tread carefully around the dark patch near your feet and tiptoe to the corner of the dock, bracing your spine to the wall.

Once again, you can’t hear anything inside. But it must have heard the door open. It must know you’re here.

“D-Class,” a scientist’s voice crackles over the speakers.

Almost instantly, a familiar growl thunders to life, spilling across the airwaves and rolling around the corner towards you.

Ah. There it is.

“Stop hiding by the door this instant and step into the containment unit.”

Well… If it didn’t know where you were before, it certainly does now. At least it’s stopped growling.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you lean cautiously out past the threshold, twisting your neck about to try and catch a glimpse of the entity before it can spot you.

Of course, that was wishful thinking.

A pair of golden eyes leer down at you from the other side of the room, sending you ducking back behind the wall with a gasp, clutching at the front of your jumpsuit. Whatever courage you’d scraped off the sides of your empty reserves had been entirely spent on throwing your weapon down the other day, defying orders and expecting, genuinely, to be gunned down.

You can’t do this again, not when your heart is on the verge of breaking out through your ribcage. Perhaps you can linger here in the doorway for the duration of the-

“-Now!”

You flinch, smacking the back of your skull against the wall.

“Ah! Shit.”

Right… Foolish of you to forget that in this place, choice is a badly concealed illusion.

You’ve already pushed your luck once, and just because it didn’t result in your becoming a lure subject for the Old Man or some other horrific fate, doesn’t mean that won’t happen if you continue to refuse orders.

You wonder how pathetic you must look to the Lab Coats now, sniffling in miserable resignation as you force yourself to edge around the corner, hugging the wall, with your eyes cast to the floor, falling back into that old childhood mindset that if you can’t see the monster, then the monster can’t see you.

The door you’d crept beneath falls shut with a deafening ‘wham,’ and there’s the familiar whirring of the locks as they pivot back into place.

You’re immediately greeted by a low, throaty rumble from the SCP.

Quaking, you drag your gaze off the floor and venture a glance up at the other end of the cell.

And there it is.

Stooped in a crouch against the furthest wall of its cell, SCP-8103 is lurking, that streamlined tail lifting and slumping to the ground like an agitated feline’s, and its great, silver head turned in your direction, poised to watch you through raptorial eyes.

A lipless mouth peels apart and issues a steady hiss between its blackened fangs, eyelids narrowing to thin slits that bleed golden light.

“Hssss…!”

“…Yeah,” you murmur under your breath, bracing each palm on the wall and pushing yourself away from the security of having a solid surface pressed to your fragile spine, “I’m not exactly thrilled to see you again either.”

The entity’s hiss peters off at the sound of your voice, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the pair of you merely regard each other; it with apparent aloofness and you with the trepidation of a mouse trying to step through a trap unscathed.

There is one imminently glaring thing that you can’t help but notice; the entity has made no move to aim its gun arm at you, which you suppose is a good thing. Evidently, it appears content for the time being to simply glare down at you from the opposite side of the room.

Does it even remember you? It must, if it isn’t aiming a weapon at you, you muse. Implying that it doesn’t see you as much of a threat.

Fine by you.

Hands clasping and unclasping, you somehow find the strength to tear your gaze away from its relentless stare and turn instead to the observation window, noting the several figures muddling about in the dimly lit room, some motionless, some scribbling away on their clipboards, and one hunched over a bank of monitors, no doubt keeping watch over everything that happens in this cell.

Swallowing past a lump in your throat, you flick a hurried glance over to the SCP again, only to go stiff when it turns its head parallel to the wall behind it, regarding you from the corner of one eye. At least it doesn’t otherwise seem inclined to move any more than that.

“Um…” Breathing a near silent sigh, shuddering at the thought of accidentally provoking a reaction, you peel your tongue from the roof of your mouth and shout-whisper at the window, “I… I never got a debrief?”

The inferred question goes unanswered, and you’re just beginning to muse on whether or not they can even hear you when the speakers crackle to life once more.

“D-One-nine-three-five…” comes a female voice this time, clipped and staccato. And cold. Cold like an icy road in winter, dangerous on all fronts for those unprepared to face it.

“Approach SCP and commence interrogation.”

Interrogation?

As if it understood the word just as well as you do, the entity’s tail flicks up to curl over its helm in one, smooth motion, pivoting slowly towards the window as a quiet hum starts to build at the base of its throat.

“So, that’s their game,” you huff, watching the SCP snap its jaws at the scientists, privately pleased that the focus has shifted away from you for the time being.

For as much as they like to try and impress upon you all that this place is a research facility, not a prison, the Lab Coats aren’t very good at keeping a lid on the jailhouse jargon.

You can still remember your own awful interrogation, back before you learned what this place really was. Two men in grey suits, each carrying themselves with the highest level of self-importance…

‘Do you have any family?’ they’d asked you in that too-bright room, a fluorescent light buzzing noisily overhead, ‘Close friends? Are you employed?’

You often kick yourself for not hearing their real question woven between the lines.

‘Is there anyone who would notice your absence?’

You’d been blinded by confusion, panicking from the sudden threat of having your future ripped away from you, bleak as it was. It might have been bleak, but it was still yours.

You answered ‘no.’

It probably wouldn’t have made a difference even if you’d told them ‘yes.’ They’d have soon found you out to be a liar when they inevitably sent agents to administer amnestics to your supposed friends.

And now those same people want you to interrogate an unclassified, highly volatile SCP?

The deliberate echoing of their method sparks an uncomfortable comparison in your mind, and you find yourself suddenly unnerved by the idea that you D-Class aren’t truly so different from the entities in this place, are you?

Both subjected to tests you want no part in. Both locked up against your wills. Both at the mercy of people who believe your suffering will lead to the greater good…

You catch yourself before such thoughts can develop. Dangerous territory to be delving into.

Stupid.

But still, the irony of your paralleled circumstances doesn’t escape you.

Just how on Earth are you even supposed to begin interrogating a gigantic, unknowable entity anyway?

Say ‘How do you do,’ and offer a handshake?

Blowing a slow and unsteady breath through your lips, you elect to ignore the first order to move closer, and instead hope the scientists will be appeased when you open your mouth to speak.

Its attention has already returned to you, its horns jutting forwards like prongs ready to skewer.

You shove aside the visceral thought of your body dangling from one of those horns, and instead clear your throat, resolving to say whatever comes to mind. Even if it’s nonsense, even if it’s ineffectual, even if it’s…

“Er…. Mm. H-hello.”

Smooth as a country road…

The entity just stares down at you blankly for a second before two slitted nostrils open up just above its mouth, flaring widely as it gives the air an audible sniff.

It doesn’t raise its gun though, which is encouraging.

Giving another hard cough to re-clear your throat, you stammer out, “I-I… I like your gun?”

‘Smack.’

Someone must have slapped a palm to their face and left the microphone on for you to hear it. Still, that saves you from doing the same, at least. If you aren’t careful, this will quickly turn into less of an interrogation and more of a social blunder.

Even the SCP looks bewildered. You’re sure that’s the first time you’ve seen it blink – just a quick flicker of golden light as it recoils its head slightly and spares a glance down at the aforementioned weapon fused to its arm, helm cocked in the opposite direction.

“It… it is a gun, isn’t it?” you ramble on, clenching your hands into the overhanging sleeves of your jumpsuit, “I mean, I never actually saw you fire it but… I – I can only assume that’s what… happened to the people before me…” Your sentence tapers off into silence when the entity looks down at you once more, opening its mouth.

You brace yourself, all the breath caught in your lungs whilst you wait for it to let out another snarl… Or worse…

Instead, what travels up its throat and slips between its crooked fangs is less aggression and more… well, you don’t know what. But it’s a far less vehement sound than you’ve heard prior. A hum, you suppose, still deep and hollow, but the intention behind it doesn’t strike with the same chord as a growl.

“I suppose I should thank you for that,” you add with a stilted laugh that doesn’t even touch genuine. When the beast blinks again, you hastily add, “For not killing me, I mean. Not for… Well, y’know.”

A vague gesture at the blood staining the walls and floor says more than enough, though it is odd that the SCP’s gaze follows your hands and glances at each of the dark patches in turn, warbling another strange note from its chest.

“Sooo…~ Yeah.” Drumming your fingertips against the front of your thighs, you click your tongue and reach for anything constructive to say. “Thank you.”

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

“Did you see that?”

The scientist’s painted lips crook up, intrigued. The expression is quick to falter as she glances about at her peers, all of whom are shooting her looks of varying uncertainty.

With a sharp tut, she stabs her chin at the SCP. “It reacted to the mention of its gun. Looked right at it when the D-Class referred to it. Which tells us…”

When all she received are several, blank faces, she heaves an enormous sigh and lifts a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes screwing shut in exasperation. “If it looked to the gun when the D-Class mentioned its gun….?”

“Oh!” It’s her intern who eventually pipes up. “It speaks English!”

Frankly, she thinks her fellow researchers ought to be embarrassed that a greenhorn is the one who makes the connection.

“Or understands it, at least,” she adds, flicking the microphone on once more.

"D-One-nine-three-five. Tailor your inquiries to matters of the SCP’s origins.”

With the instruction dished out, she removes her finger from the switch and steps closer to the observation window, taking a mental note of each expression flitting across the D-Class’s face.

Surprise, then horror, then settling on a grim acceptance, illustrated by the hard line your lips draw themselves into.

At the very least, she plans to get some information about the SCP before the next, real test can begin.

Tossing a look over her shoulder at Mullins, she asks, “Is the specimen ready?”

The guard, who had previously been leering at the scientists from his spot by the door, snaps to attention with a click of his boot before he whips out his walkie-talkie and mutters something into it.

After a static-laden response from the other side, he gives her a nod. “It’s in the crush,” he says, “Prepped and ready to be deployed.”

“Good,” she returns, straightening her back with a satisfied hum, “We’ll give the D-Class a few more minutes to get what little information out of this thing is to be had…. Activate the crush at…” Trailing off, she checks her watch, “- Fourteen hundred hours.”

Bringing everything right up to schedule.

Perfect.

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

You wonder if you’ll go down in the Foundation’s history as being the first D-Class who ever thanked an SCP for not killing them.

What you said - that hesitant, ‘Thank you.' - you said with the intent to appease the armoured titan somehow, a feeble attempt at appealing to whatever intelligence might lay behind its silver helm.

Because you’re only too aware that in this cell, placating the enemy is the sole weapon you have in your arsenal. For when the enemy is this much larger, stronger, and deadlier than you are, you’ll never beat it in a confrontation.

You had not, however, expected that this kind of SCP was the type to be assuaged.

And yet…

By some miracle, you’re still alive, and the fact that its thunderous growls have petered out entirely suggests you’ve done something right, at least. Even if that something was just letting your mouth talk while your brain was busy frantically trying to make sense of the SCP’s bizarre behaviour.

Is it the sound of your voice that’s caused it to fall silent and take a single, heavy step towards you – one that you match with a rapid retreat of your own – or is it the words themselves that seem to have piqued its curiosity.

And if the latter rings true, would that imply that this entity is capable of understanding English?

Now there’s a question that befits a proper interrogation.

You have to admit, you’re about willing to ask it anything that’ll stop the beast from backing you into the far wall, something it’s been doing with its slow, measured steps for the past few moments, the pale pupils of its eyes large and round as it angles its head from side to side and peers down at you like it means to take you in from every perspective.

“Hey, um-“ you begin, swallowing your spit when the tail sprouting from its back twitches with apparent interest, “Can you… understand me?”

You almost feel the scientists holding their collective breaths. From the corner of an eye, you see several of them lean closer to the window.

Even you’re waiting on tenterhooks as it pauses, one of those terrible, clawed feet thumping back down in the spot it had just lifted from. You give the SCP a moment, but soon enough, as it raises its snout to the air and gives a few audible sniffs with those slanted nostrils, you realise you’re not going to get a discernible response.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then,” you finally add, neither pleased nor put out by the revelation. All you want is to leave this cell. Once is lucky, twice is coincidence. You don’t want to find out if you’ll survive your third visit…

It doesn’t offer a response beyond lowering its head and staring straight down at you again, an upsetting display that leaves you feeling as though you’re being pinned by the gaze of a hunter.

“So, can I come out now, or...?” you ask the people on the other side of the window without taking your eyes off the towering brute. There’s only half a containment cell separating you from it.

You don’t realise at first why nobody responds to you.

Their silence is quick to make sense however, when there’s a sudden sound to your right.

At the disturbance, you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to face the noise, and as you do, the SCP follows suit, its tail hurtling up into position above its head, aimed with rigid precision at a large panel of the otherwise featureless wall that’s suddenly sprung open.

A door, you realise belatedly.

And your stomach drops the moment you remember exactly what kind of door it is.

You’ve only seen it in operation once, in a much different cell with a much different SCP.

D-Class call them ‘feeding tubes.’

The Lab Coats call them ‘crushes;’ close-fitting cages hidden behind the walls of a cell where drugged up livestock are held until the scientists release them into an SCP’s unit for consumption….

‘Dinner time.’

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss through your teeth.

You can’t see around the corner into the crush, but goddamn, you can hear the very recognisable bellow of an animal that’s just come around from sedation, its hooves stamping in confused fury against the metal floor beneath it.

A stomach-lurching snarl punches through the air and draws a cry of fright from your lungs. The SCP’s hackles are raised, bulging and bristling as it snaps at something you can’t yet see, its black fangs protruding from dark gums, and the pupils in its golden stare shrinking down to pinpricks.

And worst of all, bad enough to put the fear of death back into your quibbling heart, is the arm it raises slowly into the air, the all-too familiar whirring of machinery filling your ears as the cylinders near its elbow start to rotate - a gatling gun gearing up to fire.

The animal in the crush snorts madly, and with an abrupt rattling of metal followed by a clang and a thud, it charges from its confines and hurtles through the gap into the cell, a blur of black hair and dark, rolling eyes and a pair of horns lancing forwards from the top of its head.

It’s a bull.

Massive, terrified, furious.

You let out an embarrassing bleat when he bursts into the cell.

Almost at once, he catches sight of the titan in front of him, and he throws his head back with a snort, cloven hooves scrabbling to find purchase on the smooth concrete floor as he skids to a halt just several yards shy of the looming SCP.

You can only reason that he’s burned through the sedative quicker than anticipated. Usually, the livestock are so drowsy, they’ll stand stock still and do absolutely nothing to stop themselves from being killed or eaten alive by the SCPs.

Even months down the line, you still shudder to recall the time you painted the floor of SCP-5031’s cell with the contents of your stomach after witnessing it slice mercilessly into an unfortunate sheep.

You’re really not eager to have a repeated incident here.

Flanks quivering with adrenaline, the bull’s bulging eyes stare up at the colossus in front of him. And then, as bulls are often wont to do, he begins to size up his opponent.

Your heart flips upside down in your chest as you wedge yourself firmly into the corner, blood-shot eyes darting up to the SCP’s gun arm.

Why hasn’t it fired yet?

The gun is still humming, aimed squarely at the poor animal, but all its wielder does is snap its fangs together a few times, not unlike a bird clacking its beak to warn others off its territory.

In response, the bull huffs a breath through wide nostrils, sweat clinging to his glossy shoulders. Then, tossing his horns and turning to the side, he begins a back-and-forth trot from left to right in front of the SCP, who tracks the agitated creature’s movements steadily with its weapon.

But still, it doesn’t shoot.

Your knocking knees can’t hold you up any longer, and they give out quite promptly, forcing you to hunker down instead. The position in your corner is too open, too vulnerable. If bullets do start flying, you need to be as tiny a target as possible.

Breathing fast and hard, your vision starts to swim as you shoot a desperate, pleading glance at the window, praying to a god you no longer believe in that one of the Lab Coats will take pity on you and open the door.

It’s wishful thinking at its finest.

The bull’s moos only seem to grow increasingly frantic with each second that ticks by, shrill and broken as though he too is calling for help the only way he knows how. He paces like a caged rat, looking for an escape even as he continues throwing his head down and tilting his horns in the SCP’s direction. A meagre threat to be sure, but the bull isn’t to know that.

And as for the entity, while its arm continues to follow the bull's path across the room, its only outward acknowledgement of the animal in its cell is to utter a slow, continuous growl that seems to build towards an inevitable crescendo.

“Come on,” you breathe, teeth chattering between the words, “Open the fucking door!”

You shouldn’t have opened your mouth. You shouldn’t have made a sound. If only you’d just shut up and hunkered down in your corner, perhaps you wouldn’t have drawn any attention to yourself.

One of the bull’s ears flicks backwards, and all of a sudden, he wrenches himself away from the SCP and spins around on his hooves to face you, head held high and the whites of his eyes shining clear as day against his jet-black hair.

You meet that gaze; and understand. You’re both cattle here. Just a pair of frightened animals trapped against their wills with a common enemy who outmatches you in every conceivable aspect.

But the bull, of course, doesn’t think like you do. He doesn’t know you’re just as afraid as he is. He’s been brought here by creatures who look and sound and smell like you, and now here’s one of them: standing in front of him like a target, stark against his grey-walled cage with hard floors and no familiar sky over his head.

A bull doesn’t consider the fairness in a fight. A threat is a threat, no matter the size.

Tail whipping madly through the air, the bull leans back on his hindquarters, and before you can blink, he abruptly surges forwards into a head-long charge, nose tucked into his chest, horns aimed with deadly precision at your abdomen.

You don’t even notice when the SCP’s growls cut out. You’re too busy throwing your hands up in front of you and wrenching your head away from the charging missile, letting your jaw hang open around a silent scream. If you had the time, you’d pause to reflect on the irony of being killed by the least likely suspect.

As it is, the bull is only a few strides from you, hooves flying, thick neck rippling with muscle that’s about to thrust forwards and impale you on an entirely new set of horns. He bellows, the haunting din deafening to your ringing ears, and then he –

‘-BLAM!’

There’s an almighty thud, and something wet splatters across your shaking palms.

At last, your scream catches on a vocal cord, and the sound rips out of you like a wailing siren.

Someone in the observation room must have left the microphone on because you can suddenly hear an exclamation of ‘Jesus Christ!’

Your eyes are screwed shut so tightly, it’ll take a crowbar to pry them open again.

Even as the mechanical whir of machinery dies down, even as something with titanic lungs heaves deep, grunting breaths, even as the ground beneath your plimsoles vibrates with the fall of enormous feet, you don’t look.

You can’t.

You can’t… until out of nowhere, in a suddenly deafening quiet, your right hand is promptly and unexpectedly nudged.

Another piercing shriek fills the room as you wrench your eyes open and come face to face with a wall of silver and grey.

“FUCK!” you yelp, collapsing onto your backside but finding there’s nowhere to retreat to with your spine squashed up against the wall.

The SCP’s head is hovering before you, mere feet away, its yellow eyes almost crossing over one another to peer down at you, utterly still and disconcertingly silent.

‘Oh god. Oh god. Oh god….’ The words repeat in your head like a mantra, rapid-fire and frenetic.

But you don’t make a sound out loud.

Your mouth dangles open, not a breath nor a wheeze slipping in through your teeth as you wait, blood pounding in your ears. Somehow, even your body knows to be still. You’ve stopped shaking, too afraid for the adrenaline to control your muscles.

The instinct to play dead has taken over.

Through tear blurred eyes, you can see the SCP up close for the first time, the blank, white pupils floating in pools of gold, the charcoal skin sitting beneath the sockets of its visor, each nick and scrape zigzagging across the surface of its silver helm….

You let out a squeak when it pries its jaws apart and chuffs a hot breath over your face, catching the finer hairs at the side of your head and blowing them off your scalp. The air from its lungs smells acrid, and it burns your nose when you accidentally inhale.

It takes everything in you not to choke.

You wait for the bite. For the agony of those giant teeth sinking into your body and crushing you between them with a flex of its jaws. You wait, and wait, and wait, unheeding of the commotion occurring in the observation room. You only have eyes for the entity now, as though even taking the tiniest of glances away and breaking eye contact might spur it to attack.

Its horns, much like the bulls, jut forwards, each one a massive spear that hems you in on both sides, their tips nearly pressed to the wall to your left and right so that there’s truly nowhere to go.

"Please," you whisper, though it comes out wobbling, "Please, don't..."

A single blink is your only reply.

Then, as suddenly as it had crouched in front of you, the SCP - apparently satisfied with its impromptu inspection - lifts its great, silver head and stands up, moving away from you once more. Its leg stretches backwards, stepping deftly over the dark shape of -…

Oh…

Oh dear.

The bull lays dead on his front, hooves tucked up underneath his stomach. He had died collapsing forwards. And the only tell of what had killed him comes from a still smoking hole in the back of his skull. Murky eyes stare out at nothing and blood trickles in a steady stream from his nose, tongue lolling.

At first, your eyes dart over his entire body in search of wounds similar to those you saw on the D-Classes who died in here, but even with the fluorescent overheads lighting up every angle, you can’t pick out any other damage to his otherwise pristine pelt.

There’s only one wound.

One shot to the back of the head. Quick… Merciful.

Your eyes raise to the SCP’s gun arm and see that from one of the barrels, a dainty wisp of smoke is drifting steadily up towards the ceiling.

SCPs aren’t merciful.

What the Hell is this thing?

Peeling your bone-dry tongue off the roof of your mouth, you tilt your head back and gape up at the face of the entity towering above you. Its arm is reaching out for the bull, and you can do nothing but watch aghast as its clawed hand curls around the animal’s back legs and drags him back towards the opposite wall on the other end of the cell.

Slowly, methodically, it bends down onto its haunches and squares its stance over the bull, hissing at the Lab Coats behind their window like a lion guarding its kill. And like a lion, it doesn’t seem intent on letting the meat go to waste.

By the time the secondary door has begun to rise, you’ve scrunched your eyes shut again and slapped both hands over your ears to try and block out the sickening cacophony of snapping bones and the squeak of flesh being torn from muscle.

Staggering into the loading dock, you barely make it three steps inside before you collapse onto your knees, then your side, a wide-eyed, shivering mess of a human being.

Two guards have to haul you up by the arms, and without prompt, they drag you, crying hysterically, back to your cell.

#darksiders #scp #scp fandom #strife x reader #reader #D Class

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yellowwwcrayon · 7 months ago

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More Professor Logan x Student Wade Thoughts (Take 2)

Variation of the prior post, young Wade's actually doing freelance shady shit for Francis (or Ajax as he insists) and Angel as a branch of the Weapon X program, and he's supposed to get DNA from Logan for a new batch of some serum they're injecting orphan kids with. Little Canadian psycho's confident he can get close to the Wolverine (who's retired now and teaching at the Xavier School) and obtain Logan's DNA.

Fails to factor in how hot the old man is in real life. Wade's read all of his old comics growing up in his broken abusive household. Logan's low-key his favorite X-Man, but the first thing he asks when he meets Logan is if he's banged Storm like the comics suggested and it pisses Logan off. Wade's becomes obsessed with him even after delivering the blood samples he promised Frances and Angel. He's like, I can do better, guys, give me some time.

And cut to a few weeks later, he comes back with a weird thing of white stuff in a test tube. Frances tests the contents out of morbid curiosity and it is, indeed as they feared, downstairs juice from the Wolverine mixed with Wade's DNA. He's like, what the fuck did you do? Why's your saliva and some of your cheek cells in here?

Wade's like, told you I could do better. 🤷‍♀️

Meanwhile Logan's freaking out about blowing his load in a student's mouth and breaking into the liquor cabinet after being sober for ten years. (Yes, Wade sows chaos into old man's life just for shits and giggles. Poor Logan, but not really.)

I was literally thinking about them just now 😮‍💨 @watmalik idk, Wolverine Origins Wade just hits differently. He gives off weird obsessive little pyscho/toxic bf vibes. No wonder his girlfriends are all exes now.

#I have not seen Van Wilder but he looks cute in this pic #my thoughts #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool #deadpool x wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine #wade wilson #hugh jackman #old man yaoi #deadclaws #wolverine origins

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wordsbyrian · 1 year ago

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Divine - Kelley O'Hara x Reader

Summary: Request was along the lines of Kelley x Reader where R is like divinely attractive. like the sun always hits her perfectly and everybody is in love with her. maybe she catches her teammates watching edits of her?

A/N: it was a request and then it was on the poll from ages ago and then i told @wosobullshit that i would write it so yeah. ta-da!

No one on the team is really sure how you do it.

It seemed like no matter what was going on around you, you managed to look perfect at all times, at least in your girlfriend’s opinion.

Doesn’t matter if you just finished running the beep test, or played a full 90 in a torrential downpour, or had just rolled out of bed for one reason or another. You always looked like you just stepped out of the pages of a sports magazine, even when you were forced to wear the hideous Portland jerseys.

The thing is, your girlfriend, Kelley, can’t even explain it but she’s more than willing to stand and stare and enjoy the view.

Currently, she and the rest of the team are watching as you help some of the trainers set up the cones for a drill and for some reason it seems as though no matter how you turned, you seemed to catch the light perfectly.

“Christ,” Sonny says, whistling lowly, “the fans might be right about Y/N.”

Kelley’s quick to reach out and swat at her young friend, “Hands off Sonnett.”

“I’m just looking.”

“No looking either!”

Unfortunately for Kelley (and the rest of the team) her voice travels just enough to be heard by the coaching staff, who are quick to rush them onto the field to get practice started.

Throughout practice, you do feel more eyes on you then normal but you brush it off as the training staff wanting to keep an extra close eye on you since you were still bouncing back from an injury. Of course, you noticed Kelley staring but that isn’t really anything new as you catch her staring at all hours of the day.

There’s also the cameras that feel like they're constantly on you. Which is weird to you but you push through and get on with the drills.

That afternoon when everyone has been loaded back onto the bus and you’re on your way back to the hotel, you notice the eyes on you again and you’re also pretty sure you hear someone whispering about the vein popping out on your forehead but you’re too busy arguing with Crystal to care.

“No, Y/N/N, there’s no way that you’re trying to tell me that ‘Hit Em Up’ is a better diss track than ‘No Vaseline,’” Crystal says, “‘No Vaseline’ is the diss track.”

A very important topic of conversation.

You shake your head fiercely before speaking, “Pac started the song by saying and I quote ‘that’s why i fucked your bitch you fat motherfucker’ then ended it by making fun of Prodigy for having Sickle Cell. Cube didn’t say anything that brutal.”

“Cube also didn’t need 3 of his friends to back him up in his beef,” Crys shoots back.

“He was beefing with the dudes that helped make him famous! HE DIDN'T HAVE ANY FRIENDS LEFT TO BACK HIM UP!”

The two of you have been having this argument on and off for weeks. Always over the same two songs and there is no doubt in your mind that your teammates are sick of hearing it. Especially the ones that have to put with you in POrtland and with the national team.

“Helped make him famous?!”

“Yes!”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes!”

The two of you are both leaning across the aisle, glaring at each other at this point, faces so close together that anyone else would’ve found it uncomfortable but the two of you had grown up together and as such were unfazed by it.

Out of the corner of your eye, before you or Crystal could continue, you noticed Kelley and Sonnett sitting in the back row glancing at a phone, then back at you, then back to the phone before giggling.

“I’ll get back to you in a second, Dunny, this isn’t over,” you say before getting up and heading towards your girlfriend.

It's not that hard for her to spot you coming, being in a confined space and all. The whole tall and tattooed thing you have going isn’t really beneficial to sneaking up on people either. BUt your height is currently working in your favor because it means you can easily see the way both Kelley and Emily scramble to hide the phone (and its screen) from your view.

“Hi, baby,” Kelley says when you reach them and drop into the seat across from them.

“Yeah, ‘hi baby’” Sonny mimics, earning an elbow to the gut from her fellow Georgian.

“That’s not suspicious at all,” you mumble under your breath. “Anyway, I was wondering if the two of you troublemakers made any plans for tomorrow or if I’ll actually be able to hang out with my girlfriend at some point this camp.”

“You can have her, Y/N/N, I’ve been trying to get rid of her days,” Emily jokes.

Laughing at the offended look on Kelley’s face, you press a kiss to the side of her head before heading back to argue with Crystal.

The next day, you and Kelley are basically attached at the hip, or more accurately, the hand with the way she’s been dragging you from place to place the entire time.

And now after much convincing (read: whining) from you, you’ve finally got her to agree that a nap is a good use of your afternoon.

There’s only one issue…

“Babe, the key to a successful nap is having your eyes closed.”

“My eyes are closed.”

“They aren’t,” you say.

“How do you know my eyes aren’t closed? You’d have to have your eyes open to tell.”

“I can tell,” you say, still not opening your eyes, “because I can always tell when you’re looking at me. Even in the world’s most crowded room, the feeling of your eyes on me is unlike any other. So close them so I can sleep.”

A soft kiss is placed on the underside of your chin and there’s a bit of shuffling as Kelley tries to get comfortable. You let her squirm for about 30 seconds before you tug her firmly against you.

“Yea that’s enough of that,” you say. “And for love of God, stop staring at me.”

“You say the sweetest things to me when you’re tired.”

“Mhmm, love you too. It’s time to go night-night now.”

“That’s the tone you use with Charlie,” Kelley’s voice is indignant.

“Shhh, it’s time to go night-night.”

There’s some grumbling from the older woman but you ignore her in favor of going to sleep.

When you wake up from your nap, Kelley is nowhere to be found which isn’t very surprising. Luckily you know exactly where to find her or so you thought.

The walk to Sonny and lIndsey’s room is a quick one but you get turned away at the door by LIndsey who tells you that neither Frat Daddy is inside. She tells you that they said something about the social media team but you instantly decide you want nothing to do with that.

So instead you head off to find your best friend.

Marcel.

But to find him you need to find his mother, an easy task especially when all you have to do is follow the music. Which leads you down the hallway to the room where the PTs are set up.

Walking in, you’re not surprised to see Crystal on one of the tables getting a massage, while Lynn plays with Marcel on the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Uncle sitting on the other table getting her hands looked at, but you don’t pay any attention to that. Instead you walk in and pick your little homie up.

“Hey,” Lynn calls out.

“Sorry Lynnie,” you say, “Marcel and I have some very important business to discuss.”

“He’s one!”

“Gracie’s corner is incredibly serious stuff, Williams. Crys, I’ll come find you when he needs a diaper change.”

You hear small chuckles from Lyss and the trainers but you’re mostly focused on the way Crystal grumbles her breath while shoo-ing you out of the room.

As you leave you can just mak e out the voice of one of the trainers saying, "It's like she doesn't even know she's doing it."

Whatever that means.

You spend the next 30 or so minutes wandering around the hotel, alternating between letting the toddler run ahead of you and carrying him while he mushes his fingers against your face, babbling on about whatever 1 year olds like. You make sure to respond when he pauses, wow-ing or asking him simple questions to encourage him to continue.

Eventually, the two of you make your way down to the conference room that’s been converted to a common area for the team.

The amount of heads that immediately turn to face you makes you slightly nervous and the nerves only worsen when you see Kelley and Sonnett once again shoving their phones behind their backs.

Rolling your eyes, you go and ploop yourself and Marcel down next to Charlie, finding the company of the two toddlers more entertaining than that of your teammates.

Unnoticed by you though, both of the kids' mothers as well as a member of the social media team taking photos of the three of you. There’s also a few unheard comments directed at Kelley that may or may not have something to do with baby fever.

Life at camp continues in the same manner for the next few days with you going about your business while your girlfriend, her goofball friend, and the social media team continue to act strangely.

It all comes to a head one day after training.

The media manages to corner you before you get on the bus and they ask you to react to a few tiktoks that fans have made about you.

It takes you all of 3 seconds before you realize what you’re watching.

“Are all of these thirst edits of me,” you gasp, not removing your gaze from the screen. “This one is captioned: I’d let Y/N Y/L/N tie me. NEVERMIND!”

You manage to get through the next 5 minutes.

You stutter and blush and sweat your way through all 5 but you manage to make it through.

Not all the videos are as sexual as the first one, some feature clips of you with Marcel and Charlie but it still makes you very very uncomfy.

When you get on the bus, you’re greeted by the sight of most of the team grinning at you like maniacs, clearly already knowing what just happened.

“Who’s idea was that,” you ask, still standing up front.

No one speaks, so you groan before beginning to trudge your way to your normal seat across from Crystal.

On your way you notice the way both Kelley and Sonny can’t seem to hold back their giggles, so you pass your normal seat and go and sit with them instead.

“The two of you aren’t nearly as funny as you seem to think you are,” you say, dropping into Kelley’s lap.

“But we really are,” Sonnet laughs while poking you in the back.

“Yea it’s not our fault that the entire internet thinks you’re divine. I’m not going to be the one who argues with them.” Kelley leans up to press a kiss to your cheek but pouts when you lean away then stand up. “I love you,” she tries.

“Love you too.”

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt fanfic #uswnt x reader #kelley o'hara imagine #kelley o'hara x reader

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thebibliosphere · 10 months ago

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Hello there - I had a question which I think(?) you might be able to help with. Or at least point me in the direction of more information.

I have a few chronic illnesses and disabilities and as such there's many gremlins I deal with. One thing that crops up a lot are comorbidities between my conditions.

I'm trying to be more vigilant with regards to my health - as a child there were many, many missed opportunities to get my symptoms seen to by a doctor (all squandered due to my parents nor believing me about my symptoms).

Anyway, I wanted to ask about MCAS and if you know it's possible to have it but not realise it?

I've had a few incidents like this, but mostly forgot them or ignored them. But yesterday I ate some basil from my windowsill plant and I had what can only be described as an allergic reaction. I'm not allergic to any foods (as far as I know) but I've eaten from this exact plant before and been fine. I have mint growing next to it which I also ate and it caused the same reaction. Again, I've eaten from this exact plant before. It was like my mouth was burning or stinging and the leaves felt, spicy? In my mouth. I'm not sure how to describe it but I hope you know what I mean. Today I ate from the exact same plants and had no reaction whatsoever.

I've definitely had similar things happen before- but events like yesterday are few and far between. But utterly confounding when they do happen. I have urticaria (diagnosed since age 18) which I suspect is relevant, somehow.

I'm starting to wonder if a lot of my symptoms I've written off have actually been MCAS. But I'm not sure. Do you have any advice around talking to a doctor about this or if I have a leg to stand on so to speak?

Sending my best wishes!

Hey friend, sorry to hear you've been dealing with some neglect.

And considering MCAS was only really recognized as a condition in the last 15 years, it's absolutely possible to have it and not know until symptoms get worse. I was experiencing anaphylactoid reactions my whole childhood, but because I tested negative on IgE tests (I still do), it was dismissed as anxiety right up until I hit my 30s and I experienced my first episode of full-blown idiopathic anaphylaxis.

(Note: anaphylaxis is not a requirement for diagnosis, and not everyone experiences it.)

You should discuss your inconsistent allergies with your doctor or allergist. I would also advise pursuing allergen testing, as new allergens can develop at any time, even if you don't have mast cell instability.

If you suspect some form of mast cell instability may be the root cause of your issues, I'd suggest checking out The Mast Cell Disease Society. (Their website is in the process of being updated, still. But they have good resources there.)

Their signs and symptoms (and triggers) page has recently been updated and is fairly concise:

If any of that rings a bell, it might be worth bringing up with your allergist, but fair warning, not everyone is receptive to the idea of mast cell disorders outside of mastocytosis. (And even then some doctors gaslight their patients to hell and back.)

If you do find yourself in this situation, try joining a couple of support groups to see if there are any MCAS aware doctors in your area, or alternatively, try the TMS physician finder tool:

Sorry if it seems like I'm just throwing a lot of links at you, but they are very useful links and I'm not at my best right now to explain things.

I hope this is helpful and if I missed something, please let me know.

I wish you luck in remedying your chronic health issues <3

#chronic health tag #MCAS #sorry if I sound like a robot #I'm conserving spoons

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ratwithhands · 2 months ago

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I got to draw Cybernetic Emmet again! I don’t have my computer so I had to do this with pen and paper in my sketchbook. It’s a bit rough since it’s been a few weeks, but he’s here!

One of the things I’ve been trying to figure out with Emmet is how his prosthetic body stays powered enough to operate 12 hours a day every day. In drafts, there were ideas about where batteries would fit inside him limbs and whether his diet would come into play, but I think I finally have an answer down for how the UDF is keeping this hunk of metal running.

Part of the UDF testing prostheses and cybernetic enhancements is making/blending lab grown organs for different uses. One of the new technologies they’re testing out is the use of charge producing organs in machines like the kind inside electric type Pokémon. These kinds of organs are grown into strand clusters and suspended in a support fluid (something like DMEM), which are then used to generate power. They’re loaded into cartridges with connections and ports, which connect into weapons, machines, and prostheses. Emmet’s life support machine actually runs on organoid power, it has multiple large cells that are regularly flushed and maintained in order to run all of the different systems to mimic his organ functions.

Anyways Emmet’s prosthetic body runs on organoid power as well. It’s compact and can be wired through the muscles and joints, and it’s good through sockets. Since Emmet’s digestive system is mostly gone, he has his food converted into something akin to IV/parenteral nutrition so that it can go straight into his blood. This can feed the power cells as well.

Since Emmet has this for energy, it’s also how he’s able to charge things. I mentioned in his first post how he has a stand-alone charge pistol and a wired pistol, and this is technically how both of them are powered. It’s also how he’d plug his phone in in theory.

Hope you enjoyed the diagrams, I actually did some more art of Emmet on Instagram because I needed my digital art fix. Here’s the doodles:

#submas #submas au #au #emmet pokemon #kudari #hopefully I have the energy to draw again #I have plans for Emmet and AZ; I needed a hotel for Emmet to stay at while in Kalos and there’s now a perfect place

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foldingfittedsheets · 10 months ago

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Hey! If you don't mind sharing, I'd be interested to hear more about your chronic illness diagnosis journey (I also get that it can be a private thing!).

I've been struggling for the last 5 or so years with chronic fatigue, muscle weakness, muscle pain and brain fog, and my doctors have checked a bunch of different things. EBV, thyroid, vitamin D, "are you sure you're not just depressed" and they've now gone for ME/CFS. A part of that just doesn't feel right to me because I feel like they should have done more tests or walked me through alternatives before settling! Especially because it fluctuates so much. Sometimes I can't leave the house, sometimes I have to borrow a wheelchair if I'm in a shop, sometimes I can walk 5000 steps??

Love and support for you and your gluten free adventure - potatoes, rice and polenta tend to be pretty good for me when I want something bready! (Doesn't quite hit the spot as well as buttered toast does though...)

My decline was really painfully gradual. I didn’t realize why things were getting so much harder. It manifested first with friction between my beloved because they were frustrated I was always too tired to run little errands myself. I went to the doctor and talked about my fatigue but was assured I was fine. I went on Chinese herbs and they buoyed up my reserves so I could keep functioning.

That went on for months, just getting more and more tired. I’d wake up sobbing because I wasn’t any more rested than I’d gone to bed. I went to a new doctor at that point. I got diagnosed with anemia until my blood work came back normal and then I was told I was fine.

Then I started fainting. My hair was falling out. I went to a different doctor. She ran my blood. I got told I was fine, but that maybe I had a food allergy. She slapped me with a full elimination diet that broke my spirit. I did feel some minor improvement but I wasn’t healthy by any means.

Finally, my good friend who is a doctor said that’s enough. She was in a different state but she was furious that I wasn’t getting any help. She ran my blood on a bunch of different ailment tests that were less well known. She tested for antibodies to EBV. If you have over 20 they consider you to have an active infection.

I had over 700 which is when they stop bothering to count.

I was so chock full of virus I was pound for pound virus by that point.

Then came the hard part. Knowing you’re bursting at the seams with a virus doesn’t make it easy to treat. The virus was living in me, in my cells. Too much of the medication and my body would start siccing it’s defenses against its own tissue.

I went on a bonanza of supplements. There was syrups to boost energy, pills to increase my immune system, antivirals, iron and vitamin D because those were kinda low. It was a three times a day regime of medicines.

My initial dose of antiviral was too high. I experienced a pain unlike what any mortal should bear as a result, dropping to the ground to writhe in agony when it hit. My dosage got lowered and my progress crept along.

I started school sometime in there and barely kept my head afloat above coursework. My stress load from school correlated to how much energy I had and I longed to finish my degree and just prioritize feeling better.

Then things got worse. My original doctor friend let her prescription rights for my state lapse, it didn’t make financial sense to keep them. A different friend from yet another state wrote my antivirals for a while but eventually I needed a new doctor.

I found another, this time a naturopathic doctor like my friends, hoping I’d keep receiving good care in that scope of practice. I didn’t. I had the most painful blood draw of my life in her office, writhing in agony, then didn’t hear back from her. I got ghosted by my doctor. When I pestered her for results she wrote me a script for antivirals but that was all.

I’d find out about eight months later when my health was declining and my friends demanded to see my blood work that my iron had been dangerously low but she hadn’t bothered to tell me. I got on iron supplements and staggered along.

Through precision time management I could budget my functional time into schoolwork then collapse to recuperate. It was working, but barely.

When my scrip on antivirals ran out I hunted once again for a doctor. This time I’d realized that any good care I’d gotten was when I’d made a personal connection with the doctor, a rare privilege not many people got. So I sought out a friend of a friend, someone I’d seen on occasion in the doctory social circle.

I have never been more happy with a doctor. She tested my viral numbers and pronounced herself satisfied that it was in check but was suspicious that although my thyroid numbers always looked normal that something was going on there. She ran more tests and lo. A thyroid imbalance.

Around that time I’d sunk into needing the chair. I stopped functioning, it was almost as bad as my first collapse. And yet again the fun part of getting my thyroid in balance was a delicate balance of making sure I wasn’t taking too much and hurting myself.

That balancing act took about a year to stabilize. I was still so weak from years of fatigue and inactivity. An able bodied person cannot imagine how hard it is to build up from ground zero on all your muscles. And the worst part was any time I felt tired I was terrified I was going to slip back down into the depths of exhaustion.

Then my beloved and I got Wyvern the puppy. And before we realized we had both somehow developed allergies to dogs and had to break our hearts giving him up, he saved me the last time.

Potty training meant I had to get up every two hours to take him out. I didn’t have to walk far but I had to do it consistently. Every single day I’d go to bed aching in every muscle, terrified to wake up. But every day I woke up with energy and was able to do it again.

It was like puppy boot camp, and I was able to go longer and farther every walk. By the time we realized we couldn’t keep him I was mobile again, I hadn’t needed my chair at all. When we said goodbye to him I promised I wouldn’t lose the progress he helped me make.

Now I finally, for the first time in six years, feel healthy again. I can go on long walks, I can run little errands for my beloved, I can fill my days with activity and wake up to do it again the next day. It’s the most amazing thing.

I hope you can stumble upon a doctor who can listen to you and help you. I know how hard things can get, but sometimes they can get better.

#ask ffs

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kalpeavaris · 5 months ago

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Finally! The designs for the main trio for the furry/creature!AU is ready... OTL only took me like a month to complete and I still have to design clothes for N & V, but... that'll be done another day when I dont have a raging headache LMAO

more below the cut!

UZI - Theme; "Dangerous Stranger"

Dwarf bat, is slightly smaller than most of her peers - got her heigh from her dad (and not from her mother, obviously LOL)

VERY fluffy neck area, which puffs out when she's angry or embarassed. It happens alot especially during her earlier arc, since she's not really used to be around people.

Has a dormant/inactive strain of the rabies-like virus the Solver belongs to, however, despite its dormant status it does affect her personality and behaviour slightly! She's way more unhinged than OG Uzi, especially in her post-arc.

LOVES raves/rave music. Differently from OG Uzi she's less of an emo/goth personality and more of a 2000s raver girlie (which is evident in her theme lol)

Loud mouthed and WILL voice her opinion, lol

Her mom is a touchy subject and she WILL get angry when you push her about it too much

In the beginning of her story Uzi's fairly similar to OG Uzi - snarky, pushes people away and hates it when they care for her well-being, assuming that people just fake being nice in order to get something from her. She's not particularily insecure, but rather "too" self-preserving and just doesn't really want to get hurt in the long run. Losing her mother has taken a toll on her mental health and being infected with the solver-strain doesn't really help

Later on, she opens up and allows her true personality to finally shine through... which is slightly unhinged. Actually, very unhinged, but in an... kind of adorable way :']] She gets way more self-confident and allows people to approach her, which also helps when Cyn moves in with them

N(ATHAN)

Harpy Eagle, fairly tall (7'2" / 2,20m) and muscular for his species. Strong! Has a very prominent keel (sternum) visible on his chest

His hair behind the cap are more like feathers and correspond to his emotions! Can floof up or lay flat

Fourth toe on his feet is very moveable and can be turned so it's infront with his other three primary toes - he can grab stuff fairly easily thanks to his anatomy & carry it with ease!

Similar to Vera, he was "born" in the lab and cloned from another harpy eagles DNA (he doesn't know who though)

A bit naive and sometimes too good-hearted, trusts easily but if his trust is broken through actual malice he won't hold back if need be

Very good fighter, especially in the air

Carrier, can travel fairly fast by flight!

Ends up with Thad later on in the story, teehee >:]]c

V(ERA)

Egyptian Mau x Oriental Longhair, shaves alot of her longer fur for work purpose - only her tail remains with long fur, but it's fairly unkempt due to lack of time to properly care for it during the main story.

Blind in right eye due to a former work contract going wrong, uses glasses to take some load off of her left eye during work

Plantigrade, prefers to be barefoot though even if there are boots available for her to wear

Works together with Nathan for the Elliott Labratories (running errands, delivering dangerous substances/test containers/diseases etc.)

Dislikes working with Janette, the Labs secretary

Heavily into oldschool rock and punk music (fights with Uzi alot about music lol)

Knows how to drive cars! :]

Was "born" in the labs (artifical creation from the cells of two cats)

Infected with the same inactive/dormant Rabies-Strand that Nori, Yeva and Uzi carry - which she is aware off. She also knows that Nathan has it, but hasn't told him yet due to being afraid of it affecting him too harshly.

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covid-safer-hotties · 8 months ago

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Yes, there's hope in the fight against Long Covid.

Hope doesn't come in the form of natural immunity or subpar vaccines rolled out after waves of illness have already peaked. It comes in the form of clean indoor air, widespread masking, and better treatments. In that vein, the NIH is finally launching a new batch of clinical trials focused on Long Covid, five total, dedicated to different aspects of the condition. Institutes like Mount Sinai are running clinical trials on repurposed HIV drugs. So is HealthBio, a startup working on immune diseases. (They're testing maraviroc and atorvastatin.) Post-Viral Trials News is sharing updates as they roll in. Of course, the NIH and FDA need steady pressure to make sure they're funding trials that focus on a range of options. Given the urgency of the crisis, we should be doing far more. As Harvard economist David Cutler has said on developing treatments for Long Covid, "There is no amount that's overdoing it." We're talking about a $16 trillion crisis.

We're talking about an urgent need for dozens of expedited clinical trials for drugs that already exist, which have shown effectiveness in preventing and treating Long Covid in its various incarnations. We're talking about making those drugs accessible right now for off-label use, so that Covid survivors can finally get the help they need.

Long Covid is an emergency.

We're going to talk about prescription treatments first, and then supplements and extracts you can find yourself. Up front, you can try services like RTHM and CURE ID that aim to connect patients with treatments without endless waits. (I'm not endorsing them. I'm just telling you they exist.)

Let's dig in.

Healthcare largely abandoned monoclonal antibodies during the first Omicron wave, but some of them remain effective in higher doses as postviral therapies. We've also found new ones. For example: A study in Nature offers 5B8 as a therapy for fibrinogen, a protein in your body that binds to the Covid spike protein during infection. Afterward, that protein starts to behave differently, "forming pro-inflammatory blood clots" that lead to cardiac and brain dysfunction, especially in young patients with mild infections. It also suppresses your natural killer cells, weakening your immune system. So, damaged fibrinogen is the culprit behind a lot of the "mysterious" health problems we're seeing.

As the authors show, "fibrin-targeting immunotherapy may represent a therapeutic intervention for patients with acute Covid-19 and Long Covid." The monoclonal antibody 5B8 "provides protection...without adverse effects." The sooner you get it, the better it works.

A 2024 study in the American Journal of Emergency Medicine also found that the monoclonal antibody regeneron helped Long Covid survivors recover. Researchers "expressed surprise at the swift and comprehensive improvements observed in the patients," adding that "regardless of the duration of their Long Covid experience, significant progress was noted within a mere 5 days of receiving the Regeneron treatment." It might work because it helps your immune system eliminate residual amounts of virus or viral fragments, or it might replace damaged antibodies that attack your cells.

A 2022 study found that another monoclonal antibody, Sotrovimab, helped survivors with persistent viral loads after initial infection who were still reporting fatigue, chest pain, and trouble breathing months after infection. As the researchers note, the patients showed "rapid improvement of symptoms and inflammation markers as well as negative swabs."

Yet another 2022 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that a monoclonal antibody treatment called Leronlimab could help Long Covid patients recover by boosting their immune system in cases where Covid downregulated it, causing a drop in their CCR5 levels, a receptor found on a range of cells that fight pathogens, including your CD4 lymphocytes.

The Long Covid Action Project is also developing a list of drugs that desperately need clinical trials and faster deployment. They stress the need for monoclonal antibodies and antivirals like pemivibart, azvudine, ensitrelvir (Xocova), and sofosbuvir. They'll be releasing a full list later this year.

So while these monoclonal antibodies might not save your life during early infection, they can help your recovery.

There should be more clinical trials and off-label use.

Interferon treatments, specifically Interferon-Lambda, have shown the potential to help with immune system problems and cognitive deficits (caused by brain inflammation) after Covid infections.

Also:

A 2022 study in Frontiers in Immunology found that high doses of immunoglobulin have shown "a significant to remarkable clinical benefit" in treating a full range of brain, heart, and lung problems in Long Covid patients. A major 2023 study in Frontiers in Neuroscience confirmed that immunoglobulin lead to significant improvement in neurological problems. As researchers in a third study on immunoglobulins and Long Covid state, we already use this therapy to treat a variety of chronic inflammatory diseases, as well as flu, HIV, and measles. (The NIH has included immunoglobulins in their new clinical trials.)

HIV drugs have also shown promise for helping Long Covid patients. A 2023 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that Tenofovir reduced someone's Covid risk regardless of whether they had HIV. A range of studies have supported the use of Tenofovir, Darunavir Ethanolate, and Azvudine for Covid. As we noted earlier, clinical trials are currently testing HIV drugs for Long Covid.

Another study in Antiviral Research found that cobicistat, used to boost HIV antivirals, also fights Covid and leads to a significant reduction in overall risk. The researchers found that higher doses work better. They also found that higher doses work better for ritonavir, one of the key components of Paxlovid. By the way, ritonavir has been used in HIV treatments since the mid-1990s.

The research on repurposed HIV drugs points to the potential of many antiretroviral therapy (ART) medications for Long Covid, given that viral persistence plays a large role in most cases.

When you consider that Paxlovid itself contains an HIV antiviral, it sounds a little less extreme to compare Covid to HIV and discuss repurposing existing drugs.

Finally, studies have shown that molnupiravir and metformin have shown effectiveness against Covid. In particular, a 2024 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases found that metformin prescribed in the early stages of a Covid infection led to a 41 percent drop in Long Covid risk.

Other research has revealed that sometimes it takes a combination of these drugs to help patients recover. In a 2022 study in Clinical Infectious Diseases, researchers used nanopore technology to identify the specific variants patients were infected with and select the most effective treatments for that variant. In one case, a Long Covid patient with severe Paxlovid rebound only got better after doctors prescribed Paxlovid again and added remdesivir. Nobody had thought to try that yet.

It worked.

These are the drugs that demand renewed attention and clinical trials, given that most research on Long Covid points to ongoing infection, viral persistence, and the disruption of your immune system, which could mean a downregulated or weakened immune system or an overactive one. We especially need clinical trials that match drugs with specific conditions.

Specialists are going to decide the right dose for prescription drugs. Generally, the research indicates that if a standard dose doesn't work, a higher dose might as long as it doesn't trigger side effects. A combination of drugs can work when a single drug fails.

What can you do if you don't have access to these drugs?

This:

A major 2023 study in Cells found that eriodictyol, a flavonoid extracted from yerba santa, can help with the brain inflammation caused by Covid infections that leads to cognitive deficits and fatigue. Researchers have found that at least part of the "brain fog" from Long Covid happens when the virus triggers immune cells to attack the brain. Eriodictyol can also be derived from citrus fruits, tomatoes, and grapes. As the authors explain, a range of flavonoids "have been reported to prevent neuroinflammation, provide neuroprotection, and reduce cognitive dysfunction, especially brain fog."

The authors of the Cell study list flavanoids liposomal luteolin, oleuropein, and sulforaphane as all beneficial for recovering brain function. They identify formulas called BrainGain and FibroProtek containing flavonoids that helped Long Covid patients with severe brain fog in previous studies. Those contain luteolin. They ultimately recommend ViralProtek, which combines several flavonoids, "alone or together" with eriodictyol.

These formulas aren't just managing symptoms. According to the studies, they're helping you clear viral remnants and rehabilitate your immune system. They inhibit your microglia and mast cells, immune cells that often drive the brain inflammation behind Long Covid cognitive problems.

What else?

A 2022 study in Molecules found promise in nattokinase, "a popular traditional Japanese food made from soybeans fermented by Bacillus subtilis var." Not so coincidentally, nattokinase also "decreases the plasma levels of fibrinogen," the same protein that drives thrombosis in Long Covid patients and indeed "has drawn central attention in thrombolytic drug studies," as well as tumor treatment. It also inhibits the replication of bovine herpes virus. Clinical trials have found no adverse effects from eating natto. In this particular study, the researchers found that nattokinase degrades the Covid spike protein, inhibiting infection. As they conclude, "nattokinase and natto extracts have potential effects on the inhibition of SAS-cOv-2 host cell entry."

Martha Eckey describes natto extracts in more detail here, along with benefits, recommended dosage, and possible side effects. Respondents to her survey reported the best results when they took Solaray's natto extract along with serrapeptase, an enzyme and commonly used drug in Japan and Europe that helps your body break down proteins. A large number of patients reported improvement after taking the natto-serra combination, often within a week or two. Many of them also benefited from adding lumbrokinase, an enzyme shown to facilitate healing.

Like natto, lumbrokinase breaks down fibrin. We're seeing a theme here. Any kind of treatment that breaks down fibrin, whether it's a monoclonal antibody or an enzyme, helps after a Covid infection.

Take a look for yourself:

Eckey discusses cromolyn for brain inflammation and neurological issues, and some people have said it helps with other problems. She also wrote this great post about protecting kids from Long Covid.

A lot of it also applies to adults.

Another surprising study in Viruses from 2021 found that grapeseed extract (V. vinifera) contained dozens of flavonoid compounds that inhibited viral replication, including for Covid. The researchers used concentrations from 500 μg/ml down to 10 μg/ml.

Studies have even found that taurine supplements can do a lot to reduce your Covid risks, including Long Covid. A 2024 study in PLoS One found that the amino acid can serve as both a biomarker and a target for treatment in Long Covid. As they write, taurine has already "shown benefits such as reducing depressive behavior, improving memory, and mitigating age-related issues by addressing cellular senescence, chronic inflammation, DNA damage, and mitochondrial dysfunction." It can play "a potential protective role" in "alleviating the burdens of PCC." If that weren't enough, "taurine supplementation has demonstrated diverse therapeutic properties, including anti-oxidation, anti-aging, antiepileptic, cytoprotective, and cardioprotective effects in many diseases." Yes, even taurine from energy drinks. (And I guess it's a good thing I drink them.)

A standard diet contains about 40-400 mg of taurine per day. Medical use often starts at 6 grams a day.

There's a reason why many of these treatments don't get the attention they deserve, and Timothy Ferriss of all people describes it very well in the opening to The 4-Hour Body. As he learns from talking with a wide range of doctors and medical researchers, the industry frowns on any kind of treatment that doesn't look or feel "elite" enough. There's not a lot of incentive for major research on supplements or cheap, widely available drugs because they're just not cool enough, even if they work. For drug makers, it can't just work. It also has to generate enough profit.

That's what happens when you privatize medicine.

As a society, we have to overcome that. This shortcoming isn't going to help us address the myriad public health challenges of the future.

It's a little ironic that the catchphrase "do your own research," once levied against anti-vaxxers, is now used to insult Long Covid survivors and advocates who are trying desperately to find treatments. The difference is that we're not rejecting medicines.

We're simply not getting them.

This article can't replace a doctor or a nutritionist, but it offers a comprehensive starting point for anyone who needs it. You can do more digging and confirm what's here. You could also just make a list of all the things discussed here and take them to someone you trust, and go from there.

It's crucial for us to develop a range of treatments and therapies for Covid that go beyond the mainstream reliance on Paxlovid and vaccines, conveniently dominated by a single pharmaceutical company.

It won't last forever.

In fact, research has shown that Paxlovid leads increasingly to rebound infections in which "the virus can return unimpeded by the drug, bringing the risk of disease and even death."

That's the part left out by corporate media. Rebound doesn't simply mean another round of Paxlovid. It means decreased effectiveness.

It means evasion.

Just like our mediocre vaccines, Covid is developing resistance to Paxlovid. According to an article in Nature, researchers around the world are now quietly racing to develop alternatives. No doubt, viral evolution offers one of the unspoken reasons why many of us find it so hard to access the drug now. The elites are terrified of losing the thing that enables their denial and wishful thinking.

Here's what one researcher said:

“This type of approach helped to improve HIV drugs, and we think it’s a good way to improve antivirals against SARS-CoV-2,” says Sho Iketani, PhD, assistant professor of medical sciences at Columbia University’s Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons and Aaron Diamond AIDS Research Center, who co-led the research..."

Western countries are well behind the curve on these fronts. Japan now offers a drug called Xocova (ensitrelvir), arguably more effective than Paxlovid, and it's been sitting in the FDA approval queue for about a year. China approved HIV antivirals for Long Covid back in 2022. While some healthcare workers in Europe and North America know about combining and repurposing drugs, many of them are still busy pretending Covid is over.

It's time for government agencies to pull their heads out of the sand and do their jobs. If there had been more urgency over the last four years, and less favoritism toward one or two drug giants, we would already have these treatments deployed. As things stand, we need leaders to not only run these long overdue clinical trials but also prepare to scale up production considerably, while making sure that everyone has access, not just those with platinum insurance plans. We could already be doing that for emergency off-label use now. Why aren't we?

Although it's infuriating and demoralizing it took us so long to get here, it's encouraging to know that teams of scientists around the world have been working on this crisis and producing results. We just need the gates unlocked.

There's no time to waste.

Let's get moving.

#covid #mask up #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #public health #wear a respirator

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justmeinadaze · 1 year ago

Text

Little Girl Gone Part 3 (Steddie X You)

A/N: I tried to grab all the tags! If I missed any let me know :)

Warnings: Gangster Eddie/Officer Steve & Doctor Fem Reader, SMUT, slight degrading, spanking, slapping, handcuffs, etc. FLUFF, more details about the guys relationship,

ANGST, Per the previous chapters cliffhanger we get to meet Jason Carver and he causes problems triggering Eddie to react impulsively. Steve and Y/N spend the bulk of the chapter trying to talk him out of it. Steve and Y/N talk about past relationships, The boys fight but its an understanding between them (you'll see what I mean), technically not a cliffhanger ending this time!

Word Count: 6883

Previous Chapter Here

Clearing your throat, you regained your composure as you feigned a smile and extended your palm out to shake his.

“Hello there Mr. Carver. How can I help you today?”

“Well, like I told the young lady out there, I’m just here for a checkup. I’m embarrassed to say I wasn’t even aware this little office was here and so close to my house!”, he chuckled as he leaned against the counter.

Your head slightly ticked to the side at his statement as you pretended to read his chart. Carver’s side of Hawkins was nowhere near your clinic with you actually being a lot closer to Eddie’s building then any of Jason’s.

“Is that right?”

As the gangster nods, he turns his back to you for a moment to check his phone allowing you to sneak towards your sink and turn on the water as you pretended to wash your hands, utilizing your own device as you call Eddie’s phone.

“If anything happens, you see something or feel unsafe just call my cell. I’m more likely to answer than Steve who’s always on the move.”

Casually fumbling with your hair, you slide the wireless earbud into your ear and slide your device back into your pocket just as Jason turns back around.

“Please forgive me. Didn’t mean to break one of your rules.”, he laughs softly as he points to your “No Cell Phones” sign.

“Hey princess. I was just thinking about you.”, Eddie’s voice sweetly flowed from your phone.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Mr. Carver. I completely understand.” You heard clicking that sounded like a gun being loaded as you focused on the man in front of you. “Now was there a particular reason you felt like you needed a checkup or did you just wanted to keep up appearances?”

“No Steve, fuck you. I’m not staying put. This fucker has the nerve to come on to MY territory and…well then I’ll meet you there. You better get there before me because I swear to God if this asshole wants a war… The fuck did you just say to me!? Goddamn it!”

“I have to confess; I did have a bit of a reason. My head and my shoulder have really been bothering me.”

“Steve’s on the way, Y/N. He said he’s a couple of minutes away and so am I. Just stay calm, baby.”

“That’s not uncommon with things like…migraines. I, um, I can run some tests and prescribe you some medication that…that will help.”

Jason takes a few steps toward you as he speaks.

“I would appreciate that. It just genuinely feels like I got shot in the forehead or something.”, he chuckles as he moves again till he’s right in front of you.

“I think you should leave.”

“Aw, why? I’ve heard from the community around here that you’d be the person to come to for pain and I’m in a lot of it. You see, I had to bury one of my close friends yesterday.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, honey.”

“Don’t call me that.”, you growl making him smirk down at you before pushing some of your hair behind your ear displaying the earbud.

“She seems like a strong one, Munson. Beautiful. Girl in uniform. You definitely have a type.”

“Don’t touch me either.”

“Or what, honey, huh?”

The exam room door flies open as Steve barrels through with his gun drawn.

“Jason. You’re on the wrong side of town.”

“Put me on speaker, Y/N.”

Removing the device from your ear, you do what he says and hold your phone towards the gangster whose eyebrows raise in amusement.

“Is that my favorite rival?”

“Jason… you’re playing with fire. First you come on my territory, kidnap, and hurt Steve. Then you send one of your idiots to point a gun in my face. Normally this would be strike three but I’m giving you an out here. Stay away from them and off my side of Hawkins and we’ll do the same.”

“You know, Eddie, that sounds like a sweet deal. Let me talk it over with my team and…oh wait. You killed half my team.”

“You hurt the man I love. You started this… Don’t play the victim now.”

“No, you know who’s a victim? Andrew, Patrick, Samuel, and all of my other friends you killed.”, he sneered as his eyes met your own. “Soon you’ll know what it feels like. You won’t know when or where, freak, but I assure you I will be there when your pig and little whore here become victims to. Unless… you want to switch sides and come with me, pretty girl.”

As his hand reached out to touch your face, your fist reached out to punch him, knocking him backwards just in time for Steve to move forward, grab your wrist, and pull you behind him.

“Like you said, asshole, I have a type. She’s a lot stronger than she seems. However…”

The door to the room opens again as Eddie saunters in cocking his gun and points it in the other man’s face.

“If you ever pull a stunt like this again or lay one hand on her, there will be nowhere you could run where we wouldn’t find you. I’m not Allen, Jason. I’m not going to let the stupid bullshit you used to do slide.”

Moving aside to stand by Steve, he allowed the gangster to stand and adjust his suit as he headed for the door.

“You’re right, Munson. You aren’t Allen. The streets ran better with him in charge and you’re nothing like him. You may think these people respect you but I assure you they pity you.”, he spat before leaving the way he came.

The officer immediately turned around and cupped your head in his hands.

“Are you ok, honey? You did really good.”

You aggressively nod, gripping his wrist as you lean your forehead against his.

“Yeah, I’m ok. What does this mean?”

“It means I fucking slaughter that asshole and show him exactly how people respect me.”, Eddie grumble as tucked away his weapon.

“No, it doesn’t. That’s something impulsive Allen would do but not you.”

The gangster chuckled under his breath casually walking towards the officer, placing himself mere inches from him with a stoic expression but eyes filled with fury.

“That’s the second time today you, Steven, have insinuated I’m acting like my father and second person today to compare me to him. I am the boss of the Munson crew and I know how to handle my business. Now, go back to being the dirty cop and shut the fuck up.”

“I’m dirty because of you, babe. Everything I do is for you.”

“Wait…”, you begged as you step between them, each man prepared to duke it out here in your exam room. “Wait, don’t do this here. We can talk about it tonight in your loft.”

“We?”, Eddie sneered as he backed away. “You two can come over but the conversation will be the same. I know what I’m doing and neither of you have any say but especially you, little girl.”

“The head of a gang just threatened my life. I’m allowed to have an opinion on this.”

“Edward Munson, don’t do anything till we talk or I swear to God, I will arrest you and take you in myself.”

The gangster bit his bottom lip, huffing at he turned to leave.

“Well then bring your handcuffs, sweetheart, because you will need them.”

##############

Steve stayed with you the rest of the day and after you got off, drove with you to Eddie’s building. As soon as you both stepped in you could feel the energy buzzing around what happened.

“Hey Marcus. Please tell me he’s at least in his apartment.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington, but he has had people coming and going.”

“Great. Thanks, bud.”

The man behind the desk smiles at you as you wave politely, your other hand firmly locked with the officer’s as he led you to the elevator.

“Is this normal? Have you ever seen him like this?”, you ask.

“Uh, yeah, but not at this scale.” As the door to the elevator closes, he sighs before turning to face you. “We meant what we said, Y/N, about not hurting you or anything like that but we both can get feisty when we’re heated. If anything makes you feel uncomfortable or you get scared just say that word we taught you, ok?”

The entire week you stayed with them after what happened with Andrew, you not only spent that time getting to know each other but they explained some rules they like to follow when it comes to “playing rough.” Steve told you that due to their line of work sometimes they liked to take out their stresses on each other which made you giggle at the time when his eyes playfully rolled back.

“We like to go all out, you know? Slapping, choking, degrading… of course, honey, you don’t have to do any of that.”

“I don’t mind you doing any of that. Just don’t like punch me or cut me.”

“Sweetheart, we aren’t into that kinda thing either. Trust me, we see it enough out there.”, Eddie teases as he points absently towards the window. “If you don’t like something we’re doing or you need us to stop just say ‘Red’, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, Munson. She has manners. I like that.”

“Yes, sir.”

The officer grins as he leans down to kiss your lips.

As soon as you enter Eddie’s apartment you’re stunned by the chaos around you. There were guns laid out in random sections of the living room with a gigantic map of Hawkins on the coffee table. Walking further in, you noticed pieces of glass shattered against the wall with liquid that smelled like bourbon surrounding it.

“Ed, this is a rash jump. Shouldn’t the retaliation be level with the offense? A war seems…extreme.”

“Alright, Gareth, what would be level for openly threatening me and the people I care about, hm? Kill more insignificant lackies? Steal some of his product? No. If this is what he wants then I’m going to give it to him.”

“Jesus, man. You sound like—” The gangster’s angry glare cut him off as he rose to his feet, relief panting his features when he noticed Steve. “You know we’d follow you anywhere but we…I really think you should reevaluate your strategy.”

Eddie ignores him as he holds his current glass of alcohol in his hand to his forehead as he continues to focus on the image in front of him. The officer pats Gareth shoulder comfortingly as he leaves and you exhale your nerves as you watch these two men you’ve grown fond of interact.

***

“I see you didn’t wait for me.”, Steve sighed with agitation.

“You’re right, I didn’t, but I haven’t made any definitive moves yet so you’re right on time to say your peace.”

“Eddie, I’m not playing around. If you start a gang war in the middle of Hawkins, I will arrest you and throw you in a cell myself. If you want to act like your dad then I can treat you like him.”

The long-haired man slammed his glass against the table and rose to his feet, striding angrily towards the officer before shoving him furiously in the chest.

“Last time you tried that, babe, we barely made it halfway down the street before you were fucking me and letting me go! You think now you can follow through? After everything we’ve been through? Now that you love me.”

Steve stepped forward shoving the man back with his broad chest.

“With no hesitation, honey. I’d be doing it because I love you. I’m not going to let you get innocent people and/or yourself killed! There are other ways we can do this, Eddie.”

“There’s no other way. I’m tired of his cocky, entitled attitude and I gave him plenty of leeway! His response was to hurt you, threaten me, and intimidate Y/N? No. I won’t have that disrespect!”

“Eddie, doing this won’t gain you that respect. If anything, you’ll lose more or all of it.”, you added trying to help.

“Oh, sweetheart, if anyone has less say in this, it’s you.”

“My life is now on the line to as well as those innocent people Steve mentioned. I see and heal them every day! You told me when we first met that you didn’t kill people you didn’t have to. You don’t have to do this.”

Eddie glared into his boyfriend’s eyes as he reached for his phone and started dialing.

“Hey, Jeff. Yeah, get everything together and—”

Steve hand flew, knocking the device from the gangster’s hand as he tumbled to the side and caught himself on the couch.

“Jeff, it’s Steve. Ignore that order. As a matter of fact, all of you head home for the night, ok? Mr. Munson and I need to have a talk so he won’t be making anymore decisions tonight.”

With exception force, he threw the phone hard against the wall, not even flinching when it shattered. Both men stared each other down as the fury burned around them and you’d be lying if you said watching them angerly pant as their dominance oozed from them didn’t turn you on a bit.

Eddie lunged toward him and you watched in aw as both men began to fight each other. The officer got the upper hand, pinning him to the floor, and pressing his knee into his shoulder blades as he handcuffed his hands behind his back.

“Be careful, Steve! He’s still healing.”

Rolling him onto his back, he checked the gangster’s wound that was exposed due his shirtless physique that had Steve not just checking his side but his entire upper body.

“Why are you acting so impulsively? This isn’t like you.”

“Well, this feels familiar. You sizing me up while I’m on my back, handcuffed. I’m starting to think the reason you restrain me is because you can’t control me without it. Just like how you think threatening to take me in will get me to submit to what you want.”

Keeping both knees straddling his waist, Steve’s palms caressed his stomach around to his back, his eyes never leaving his boyfriend’s as he removed the cuffs accepting the challenge.

“I can control you just fine without restraints. Now… are you done with your tantrum, little boy, or should we keep going?”

The condescension in his partner’s voice infuriated the gangster as he smacked him in the face and tried to throw him off him. This just spurred Steve on more as he grabbed the man’s wrists and held them to the floor.

“Honey, can you help me?”

Nodding, you scurried his way and when his eyes gestured towards his belt, you immediately unbuckled it, even going the extra step of pulling out his cock for him.

“Thank you, pretty girl.”, he coos, tilting his head towards you so you could kiss his lips as Eddie struggled beneath him. “See? She’s a good girl.”

“She IS a good girl. That’s why I’m doing this; to protect her.”

“Don’t. Don’t say you’re doing this for us, Eddie, because we don’t want you to do this.”

The gangster’s jaw clenched at your words causing Steve to sigh in frustration as he leaned down till the tip of his cock was resting on his lips.

“Open.” When his partner remained still, the pretty boy rolled his eyes, shuffling the man’s hands into one of his own so he could free his other to reach behind him and place it on the massive bulge in his slacks. “OPEN.”

Eddie’s eyes fluttered as Steve continued to massage him and without prompting you slide towards the gangster’s waist and unbuckled his pants as well.

“All the way off, baby. He needs to be exposed and vulnerable because that seems to be what he’s into now a days. Right, little boy? That’s what this move you’re planning will do.”

When Eddie moaned, Steve turned to see just as you were running your tongue down the veins of the man’s length.

“She’s a lot nicer than I am because I assure you I’m not going to be that gentle. Now…OPEN.”, he growled.

He tried to remain steadfast but when your lips enveloped him, Eddie couldn’t help but groan allowing Steve to slide into his awaiting mouth. Releasing him from his hold, the officer balanced his hands above his boyfriend’s head as he thrust into him as you lightly mewled at the feeling of Eddie’s palms petting your hair.

“Fuck. That’s it. Keep that sassy fucking mouth open for me.”

Coming around to their front, you help Steve remove his shirt before leaning down beside Eddie’s forehead to tenderly move his hair away from his face. Even though they were upset, both men sighed at the action. You were a nice contrast to their rough lifestyle, not just when you played but in their relationship as well.

“Eddie, please, there’s another way we can do this without people getting hurt.”

Wrapping his arms around his waist, the gangster flipped the officer over and you slid back a bit to allow them to wrestle. You noticed immediately that a lot of Eddie’s fight had decreased especially when Steve’s back hit the wall as he circled his legs around him, locking the long-haired boy in a position that had him thrown over his lap on his stomach with his ass exposed.

Gripping his wrists again in one hand, the other free one came down hard on his behind making Eddie groan.

“She’s talking to you and she’s right, Ed.” Squirming against his hold, Steve’s hand came down again. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?!”

“FUCK YOU!”

His deep, authoritative voice startled you but not his partner as his palm came down once more before sucking on two of his fingers and sliding them into his entrance.

“Are you trying to prove something? Everyone already knows you’re a badass to be feared if needed.” Eddie moaned as Steve’s fingers tapped that spot inside of him that drove him crazy. “You keep saying it’s a respect thing but I don’t believe you. People respect you except that fucking, preppy moron but that’s one man. We don’t need to kill a bunch of people to prove a point to him.”

Steve spanked him again as he mused.

“Is it me?”, you asked in a small voice that makes Eddie’s head hang as his hair blocks his face. “Is it because of what we talked about…about how I’m another vulnerability?”

“I won’t allow anyone to fucking hurt you.”, he grumbled as his eyes shot up to meet yours. “Anyone.”

With incredible force, Steve pushed him off his lap and rose to his feet, pulling up his pants, and collecting you in his arms before carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom.

“Grab anything you may need, honey. We’re going to my place.”

“You have a place?”

“Yeah. Can’t really have it on record that I live with a gangster.”, he chuckles, his face hardening as Eddie enters the room. “You promised me that you wouldn’t let your feelings for me affect what you did out there. We agreed that extended to her when we decided to bring her into our world. If you really want to fucking burn down Hawkins to show the city that we are yours then we’ll remove ourselves from the fucking equation. Oh, and she’s not a vulnerability. Personally, I think she’s one of our strengths. One of the few fucking positive things about us and in our lives.”

“Why do you think I’m trying to protect her?!”

“EXCUSE ME! But haven’t I protected you two?!”, you angrily spit towards Eddie. “You I’ve saved twice, remember? I don’t NEED you to protect me. I can protect myself just fine. I like knowing I have you two there for me though. I…I make myself vulnerable FOR you. That doesn’t mean I’m weak. I’m not afraid of Jason Carver. If anything, I’m more afraid of you right now and what you might do.”

Eddie let out a heavy sigh as his palm flew up to his chest. Taking a hold of your hand, Steve led you past the brokenhearted gangster and out the front door.

##############

Grinning softly, you took in the new dwelling Steve had brought you to. It was a modest, brick interior, studio apartment on the fifth floor of a complex that had a good view of the city. The walls were pretty much bare except for the couple of pictures of sports cars and near his bed his certificate of graduation from the police academy. In the corner, he had set up a little gym area with weights and a treadmill with the same fantasy book off to the side that you remembered on Eddie’s nightstand.

When you flashed it to him questioningly, he smiled.

“Eddie loves that crap. Whenever he babbles about it, I at least want to know what he’s talking about.”

On his nightstand, he placed his badge and gun right beside the medication you prescribed him making you beam when you see he had been following your instructions. Beside his lamp and phone charger was a framed photo of him and Eddie different from the one the gangster had. In his photo, Eddie was on a kitchen counter somewhere with his legs reaching to wrap around Steve’s waist as his ringed fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt to bring him closer. Their lips were inches apart, noses just barely touching as Steve smirked down at him.

“We need to get a picture of you so we both can have one.”

“Does it worry you? Like if you invite a friend over who’s on the force and they see that?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m kind of an asshole. I don’t have many friends.”, he laughs breathily as he runs his fingers through his hair and takes a seat beside you. “The friends I do have know about us. If I ever go somewhere work related or with any of the other officers I usually go to their places. And of course, I’m the only cop that goes to his place so…”

Your own fingers tenderly reach out to caress his cheek and run down his muscular back making him sigh as he closes his eyes.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah… I’m just…I’m just worried. I really don’t want him to this.”

“Would you genuinely take him in like you said?”

“I would. Which means I would most likely get arrested to.” Opening his eyes, he glances your way seeing the slight confusion as he continues. “If I just brought him, it wouldn’t be enough. I’d have to tell them how I knew it was him and then everything else but…at least he’d be safe. Unless they send him to the same place his dad is at…Fuck.”, he groans as he rubs his palms over his face.

“What would happen to me?”

His head abruptly turned at your question as he became more serious.

“Nothing, baby. I promise. You’d be safe. Eddie has people that would watch over you for us and of course anything else you may need they can get it.”

“I need you two.”, you cry as your head hangs. “I like you both so much… I don’t want to lose you.” Steve’s arm shot out to pull you to him so he could hold you tightly to his chest. “God, what is wrong with me? I’ve never been this, I don’t know, clingy before.”

“We tend to have that effect on women.” He laughs and pretends to flinch when you pull away to lightly slap his arm. “Does it bother you? I mean do you like it?”

“I do. It scares me a little bit sometimes. Eddie says we’re his vulnerabilities but for me…being open like this…in that particular headspace… Most men are always intimidated by me when they first meet me and lately I struggled to get past that first date. My last relationship…didn’t end well…so I put all my energy into finishing my PhD and working.”

“I can understand that. I did the same thing after my last relationship. It’s part of the reason I had the balls to go after Eddie. I did so much reconnaissance and sleuthing that I thought I had enough to bring in the leader of a mafia gang. He, uh, wasn’t what I thought he would be.”

“Kind?”

“Goofy. He told me a dad joke that made me laugh. By the time we got near the station, I didn’t want to let him go. Over the past 10 months, I’ve learned how sweet, nerdy, and adorable he can be.”

“I learned the same thing about you.” Steve scrunched his nose as he laughed at you. “I did. You were a bit of a jerk and I thought you hated me.”

“I told you I’m a jerk!”, he grinned till you both calmed down and he tenderly petted your head. “No, baby, I didn’t hate you.”

A knock on the door had you both more alert as he placed his finger over his mouth in a shushing motion while he reached for his weapon. Rising to your feet in preparation, you watched as he slowly moved towards the sound, exhaling after looking through his peephole.

Lowering his weapon, he opens the door to a disgruntled Eddie who barges through and throws his leather jacket on the couch, his face instantly softening when he sees yours.

“Why are you crying? Is everything ok?”

You wipe your face as he hurries towards you, giving you a once over as you nod.

“Yeah, Eddie. I’m ok. We were just talking about you…how much we care about you.”

“Why are you here, Munson? Don’t you have a massacre to dictate?”

Blinking, he readjusts himself so he can address you both.

“Steve, when you showed up at my door after Carver’s guys jumped you, it scared the hell out of me. You were in so much pain and…”, his voice cracks before clearing his throat as he continues. “I remember what it was like having the shit kicked out of me and the fact that someone had the balls to do that to someone I love; someone that’s mine. I saw red. When Jason showed up at her work threatening to do the same…Baby, I lost my fucking mind.”

“Clearly.”, Steve chided, sighing when you flashed him a stern look. “She’s not just yours, you know. It’s not solely on you to watch out for her. You don’t think when I saw him pressing up against her and calling her a whore I didn’t want to shoot that motherfucker then and there? You’re also mine, Eddie, and if I have to arrest you to keep you alive…”

“Are you still going to go through with it? Going after Jason?”, you ask, relief washing over you when he folds his arms and shakes his head.

“You both were right. There are other ways we can attack him without innocent people getting hurt.” The gangster’s beautiful chocolate hues glance towards you. “I’m sorry I scared you.” As your arms wrap around him, he exhales heavily into your hair as his fingers cling to you. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s ok—”

“No, it’s not.”, he scolds himself as he tilts your head back to look at him. “Don’t you ever let either of us get away with bullshit like that. It’s one thing to dominate you. It’s another to frighten you. We don’t want to do that with you.”

“So, what I’m hearing, Edward Munson, is that you need to be punished.”, Steve teases causing the other man’s eyes to playfully narrow as he bows towards his boyfriend extending his arms on either side.

“I’m all yours, Officer.”

“Hm.”

Grinning, he steps forward, placing himself directly in front of him before forcefully turning him to face you as he pats him down.

“God this feels so vaguely familiar.”

“Because it’s been done so many times in the past?”

“Only by you, baby.”

Steve’s face hardens as he spanks the man in front of him as he leans over his shoulder to whisper in his ear.

“Stop talking. You’re in a lot of trouble.”

You watch with intense desire as his palm glides over the gangster’s pockets and reroutes around to the bulge in his slacks. Eddie groans as he licks his lips, his hips slightly grinding to find more friction.

“Too bad you were a bad little boy. We could have been sucking you cock right now or you could be sinking it into her tight, wet pussy. But no… you had to play big man in Hawkins, didn’t you?” When his boyfriend doesn’t answer, he spanks him again. “Didn’t you?”

“Ah, fuck. Yes.”

Abruptly grabbing his wrists, Steve handcuffs them behind Eddie’s back, guiding him towards his mattress, and tossing him stomach first onto his bed.

“Can you do me a favor, sweet girl?”

Stepping closer to him, you allow him to murmur instructions to you making you nod before lightly kissing his lips. After completely disrobing, you climb on to the bed in front of Eddie and per the officer’s instructions, open your legs wide for him to see.

“Fuck, angel. You’re so fucking beautiful.”, he compliments in a strained tone as the other man reached underneath him to remove the gangster pants and boxers.

“Yeah? You like my pussy, baby?” Scooting a bit closer to him, you bite your bottom lip and grin as he nods, tilting his head to kiss your inner thigh. As his kisses trail further up towards your legs, you push yourself back, denying him what he desperately wants. “Oh, I’m sorry. Officer Harrington said you weren’t allowed.”

Steve smirks over his shoulder as he listens to Eddie whine while hanging his head.

“No, hey, keep your eyes on her.”, he scolds, gripping his jaw and forcing his head up.

The long-haired boy groans as your fingers glide effortlessly through your folds, the sound of your wetness making him harder as he tries to relieve the pressure by rutting into the mattress. His boyfriend roughly loops his arms through his own, bringing his back to his chest as he guides his cock into his entrance.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it.”

You had never really been privy to seeing them be sexually intimate and you never initiated any of that in the bedroom. You wanted them to feel comfortable especially since you were the newcomer to the relationship and dynamic. Seeing them now as Steve slammed his hips into Eddie’s, lifting and holding his upper half with his arms alone as the gangster practically drooled mewling his name; it was the sexist thing you had ever seen.

A small cry left your throat as you pushed two of your fingers into your needy hole.

“Aw, look what you’re doing to her, honey. She wants your mouth in her cunt so bad. I bet you do to, huh?”

“I-I—fuck—I’m sorry.”, he sighed exasperatingly.

“I’m sure you are.” Pulling out, he smacked his ass before bouncing on to the bed on his back and man handling his boyfriend till he was positioned over his cock. “You better ride my dick fucking hard.” Holding the base, both men moaned as he lowered himself on to his firm length and did what he commanded. “Mmm—fuck—come here, Y/N.”

After crawling over to him, he tugged your arm and shifted your body till you were sitting directly on his face.

“I got you, baby.”

Steve wasted no time, his fingers digging into your thighs as his thick, masterful tongue went to work. Eddie watched you both with glassy, lust filled eyes as he bounced and grinded on the man he loved. Leaning towards him, you couldn’t help but capture his lips and was surprised when the officer allowed it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really am. Fuck, his cock feels so fucking good.”

“I forgive you, Eddie. I forgive you. YES! Steve, please. I need him.”

His hold around you tightened as he shook his head between your legs, his lips making obscene slurping sounds as he flicked his tongue against your clit at an overwhelming pace.

Panting, your body trembled as you came as his tongue continued with its assault, elongating your high. After a soft kiss to your thigh and a firm tap of your ass, you climbed off him, waiting for instruction. Sitting up, he grabbed Eddie’s cheeks and kissed him passionately making the gangster groan at the taste of you on his boyfriend’s mouth.

“I’m sorry, Steve. You know how I am sometimes.”

“Hot headed? Stubborn? A pain in my ass?” They both chuckled softly, the officer running his thumb along his lips. “We talk to each other right? Figure things out together.”

“Yeah, baby, we do.”

“ALL of us. That includes her now. She makes us stronger.”

“Yeah, she does.”, Eddie smiled as he glanced your way wishing he could touch you.

Giving him one final kiss, Steve leans back and pats his lower stomach.

“Come here, honey.” Taking his hand, you let him direct you till you were straddling him with the other man’s cock teasing your pussy lips. “You’ll have to slide back on him but he should be able to do the rest.”

Nodding your head, you reach behind you to hold his length as you guide him inside of you.

“Oh my fucking God.”, Eddie growls as you mewl at the stretch.

Steve’s large palms grip your hips as his boyfriend start’s bouncing and thrusting his own.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?”

“S-So good.”

“Shit. You’re both so fucking sexy That’s it. Just let go and take it like a good girl.”

Your breasts hang perfectly in front of his face and when his mouth attaches to your nipple, your pussy clenches around Eddie making him whimper as he picks up his pace.

“Please, Eddie. Make me cum.”

As he does his best to honor your request while restrained, Steve licks his thumb and massages your clit driving you crazy as you push up and lean against the gangster’s chest. You feel him grunt into your shoulder as he releases inside of you, you following as you moan his name into the ceiling. After lightly spanking you, you collapse to the side and watch as Eddie falls forward knowing the man he loves will be there as Steve cups his cheeks and thrusts roughly upwards chasing his own high.

“That’s it, Eddie, baby. Take it, take it, take it. That’s my good boy. Fuck.”

They both groan as the man underneath him thrusts his spend deep inside of him, his mouth falling open as he pants against his lips.

“I love you so much, Steven, fuck. I love you.”

As the gangster croons into his neck and they continue to whisper admiration for each other, you tip toe towards the officer’s set of keys and quietly reappear to free him. His palms promptly come to pet the boy’s head, kissing his forehead before playfully wrapping his arms around you and dragging you over Steve to place you between them.

A warm feeling washes over you as both men roll on to their side to nuzzle their noses against your cheeks as they hold you.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep or for how long but the strong, delicious smell of pasta caused your eyes to flutter open. Eddie was still knocked out beside you but due to the small space you could see Steve with his bare back to you in sweats at the stove. One of his shirts had been placed by the bed and you smiled as you slid it on, shuffling towards him.

“Hey you. I’m making dinner if you’re hungry.” His grin grows when you nod, turning his attention back to his sizzling pan. Hopping up, on to the nearby stool by his counter, you notice a file with Jason’s name on it.

“May I?”

Glancing that way, he hesitates for only a moment before giving his approval.

The file itself was thick with photos and notes of Carver’s gang showing that the officer really did take his job seriously as you browsed through the details. Kind of like Eddie his father passed the reigns to his son Jason but unlike him, his father was still out and walking freely. He seemed to still have a bit of sway when it came to the clan itself but otherwise he trusted his son. He had been running things for a couple of years before Eddie took over and due to the change Steve noted a few things you found disturbing.

“Hey. Put that down and try this.” You smile as he holds a spoon to your lips and he beams with pride when make a tiny yum noise as he turns back around. “My mom was actually a pretty good cook. She taught me a thing or two.”

“Jesus Christ, it smells good in here.”, Eddie announced, grabbing a desk chair and sliding obnoxiously loud over to you two making you laugh. While tilting up to kiss you, he yanks the file from your grasp. “Bad Officer Harrington. Letting her snoop.”

“She’s not snooping. She asked and I said it was alright.”

“I’m glad you’re not going after him, Ed. There’s some things in there…”

“Yeah. Jason Carver is a prick. I’m surprised his dad lets him get away with half the shit he does but unless George Carver deems you worthy so to speak he doesn’t give a damn.”

Your head shot up as an idea hit you.

“Wait a second, Hawkins does a charity thing every year where the wealthy show up to throw money at causes to make them feel better about themselves.”

“Yeah, my parents go to that.”, Steve replied with a hint of sarcasm you didn’t miss.

“My dad was always invited but never went. He never felt the need to pretend to be a good man.”

“But that’s why I never went. I had heard that the head of the Carver’s attended.” They both continue to stare at you with confused eyes causing you to let out a frustrated sigh as you rise to your feet. “The sponsors of that party have funds for Hawkins medical funds but the bulk of it goes to that general hospital. I’m still always invited…if I wanted to mingle with the donors…make an impression… Come on, guys.”

“Honey, just say what’s on your mind.”

“I can go with Eddie and we can talk to Jason’s dad. Maybe somehow convince him to get his son to leave us alone.”

They exchange a look before the gangster finally speaks.

“Y/N, sweetheart, that means you’d have be seen with me and not just by the Carvers. My team, a few of our friends, and apparently Jason somehow knows about Steve but otherwise he’s hidden. If we go to this event with you on my arm, EVERYONE will know.”

“Including the police, baby. Which means you could have more eyes on you and pressure pushed when it comes to him.”

Your head hangs as you fiddle with your fingers.

“I would never turn you over or tell them anything. I swear…”

“No, honey.”, Steve quickly explains. “We aren’t worried about that. We just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Of course, we can protect you in that regard from getting into any kind of legal trouble.”

“Your family and friends will have something to say—”

“I don’t have much family and I work 24/7 so I don’t have time for friends. Honestly, the only thing I care about is that clinic, my patients, and you two.” The genuinely smile at that last bit making you blush. “I do. I care about you very much. It’s been a long time since I felt like I wasn’t just coasting through life. These past couple of weeks I’ve really enjoyed having someone to talk to, to hold me, even just hear someone tell me I’m fucking beautiful.”

Eddie gets to his feet and tenderly kisses your lips.

“You are beautiful, angel. Ok, I need to take you shopping so we can get you a new dress.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t HAVE to. I want to.”, he grins. “We need to go over some rules and things if we are going to pull this off. “

“I can come to. Since my parents are attending, it wouldn’t be odd for me to be there and I can keep an eye on you two.”

“My knight in shining handcuffs and a holster gun.” Steve sticks out his tongue as Eddie giggles like a little kid. “Alright, princess, this won’t be the last time I ask but are you sure you want to do this?”

Your gaze shifts between them as a heavy sigh exits from your lungs.

“I’m sure.”

###############

@5tud10-54r4h @munsonzgf @eddiesguitarskills @supraveng

@lilaclazer @ima1986 @micheledawn1975 @foreverminliv @corkadymu

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @joannamuns9n @dashingdeb16 @sashaphantomhive

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kikyoupdates · 6 months ago

Text

Indebted ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Following your mother’s recent passing, you are visited by a group of men claiming that your father abandoned all his debt and obligations, leaving you to take his place.

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The car ride was unsurprisingly tense. You were crammed inside the same vehicle as Ryu, with his broad shoulders pressed up against yours in the back seat. He’d said that he intended for you to work and pay off your father’s debt, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he changed his mind and decided to kill you instead.

And yet he still had the nerve to try and make small talk with you.

“Oh, I suppose I should apologize for how sudden our visit was,” he commented offhandedly. “I am sorry for your loss. You must still be in the process of grieving, but life goes on, as they say.”

His tone was dripping with insincerity, and you had every right to want to knee him in the balls, but you also had no desire to accelerate your death. So, you stayed quiet. Avoided eye contact, avoided his questions. You just stayed as still as possible and tried to keep from breaking down.

After a little while, the car parked right outside your apartment. You couldn’t even pretend to act surprised. They’d looked into your family’s background and tracked down the location of the funeral; it went without saying that they had an idea of where you lived too.

Well, not for much longer, by the sounds of it.

“Pack a few belongings, and then leave your keys with one of my men,” Ryu instructed. His dark eyes narrowed. “And don’t even think about trying to run away. You don’t want to find out what happens when you test my patience.”

You nodded briskly. Two of his subordinates followed you up to your apartment and waited as you grabbed some clothes, your laptop, and a few other valuables. You didn’t want to drag this out too long. Ryu had already hinted that he wasn’t a particularly patient guy.

Once you were finished and had everything packed up in two suitcases, you looked back over your shoulder. It was a small, cheap one-bedroom place, but you’d been living here for a while now. Leaving so suddenly just didn’t feel natural. Well, not that any part of this arrangement was natural to begin with.

One of the men extended his hand out. “Give me the keys,” he ordered. “We’ll make sure the lease is settled.”

“What are you going to do? My contract isn’t up yet.”

“None of your business. All you need to do is listen up and keep your mouth shut. If the boss says to do something, you do it.”

They didn’t seem to care much for your company. Then again, you hadn’t really expected for a group of yakuza to be all that friendly.

Keeping your gaze low to the ground, you stepped out of the apartment, dragging your luggage behind you. They loaded all your belongings into the trunk, and then you were back in the car again, right by Ryu’s side. Much to your immense dismay.

“All good?” he asked.

You nodded.

“What, are you mute all of a sudden? When I speak to you, you’d better answer properly.”

“Everything’s good,” you affirmed, swallowing uncomfortably. Ryu stared at you for a few moments before eventually scoffing in your face. You didn’t really know what he expected. Your mother had just recently died, and you were scared for your life. It was taking all your strength not to cry in front of these people again.

The drive took a while. You had no clue where you were heading, but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyways. Ryu’s lackeys had taken the liberty of confiscating your cell phone, so you couldn’t call for help even if you were willing to take the risk. Ironically, the most frustrating part in all of this was not that you were being taken against your will, but that your father’s words from all those years ago were playing in your mind on a loop.

“Those men are going to take care of us. Once I become a fully-fledged member, things will turn around.”

What a fucking joke. In the end, he couldn’t even commit to the group he’d chosen to abandon his own family for. He’d messed everything up and destroyed your life in the process. He wasn’t even around anymore, and he was still ruining things for you.

Your expression shifted into a scowl without you even realizing it. Beside you, Ryu let out an amused chuckle.

“There’s finally some life in your eyes,” he hummed. “You look upset, sweetheart. Are you upset with me?”

“No. Not with you.”

“Really?”

“You’re only taking care of business,” you reluctantly admitted. “I know it isn’t personal. It’s just about money. And I… don’t have any money to give you.”

His lips curled into a smile. “Who are you upset with, then?”

“My father. He was a terrible person back when I knew him, and it seems like that still hasn’t changed.”

“It looks like that’s something we can agree on. It’s good for you to have someone to direct your anger towards. Anger, resentment—those are all things that will make you stronger. But don’t direct those emotions towards me,” he warned. “Never towards me.”

You pressed your lips together. You hadn’t exactly been completely honest. You did resent him, but he was a criminal to begin with, so you couldn’t expect for him to do the sane, rational thing. It didn’t matter how you felt about him, anyways. He was the leader of a group of dangerous, violent individuals. You didn’t stand a chance against any of them.

The trip dragged on, to the point that you were starting to feel quite groggy. All of the adrenaline that had kept you going until now had just about run out. It was late in the night, and you were exhausted. You just wanted to lay down and sleep, wherever that may be.

“We’re here,” Ryu finally said. “Get out of the car.”

You did as you were told. The area didn’t look too familiar, but you tried not to panic immediately. You were in front of a large, traditional-style home. It was possibly one of the biggest you’d ever seen.

“Are we still in Yokohama?” you asked.

“What did I say about asking questions?” one of the men snapped.

“Yes, we are,” Ryu mercifully answered. “It’s a ways off from your old apartment, but we haven’t left the city. Come on. Let’s go inside.”

You grabbed your suitcases out of the trunk and followed behind him. It would be your first time staying in a traditional home. Most of your friends had gone on vacation to seaside inns and hot springs, but you’d never had the money growing up to take any trips like that. If nothing else, you would at least get to see what you’d been missing out on. Disregarding the fact that you’d basically just been kidnapped.

It looked even bigger inside than on the outside, and you could already predict that you would be getting lost trying to navigate the long hallways and countless sliding doors.

“In here,” Ryu gestured, sliding one of the larger doors open. He looked back over his shoulder, addressing his subordinates. “Wait around for a while longer. I need to deal with her first.”

“Yes, sir.”

He patted you on the lower back and roughly pushed you inside the room. You yelped a bit, nearly tripping over your own feet. Ryu slid the door to a close behind him.

It was just the two of you now. Granted, the place was very big, but you didn’t much like the idea of being left alone with him. At least in front of the rest of his group, you could tell he was acting out the part of a leader. Now… there was something eerily sinister about his expression. You didn’t like it one bit.

“This will be your room,” he said. “Mine is right next to yours. There’s still some stuff I need to clean out, but it should be more than big enough. Any concerns?”

You shook your head. “No. You’re right, this is plenty of space for one person. Thank you.”

“Thank you?” he repeated, laughing a bit. “You’re thanking me? After I basically told you that you have no choice but to work for me in order to pay off a debt that isn’t even yours in the first place?”

“I just meant… thank you for giving me this room. It’s a nice room. I’ve never had such a big place all to myself before.”

“Hm. Well, it’s certainly easier than having you struggle and try to make things needlessly difficult. We still need to figure out how exactly you’ll be earning my money back, though.”

“I have two part-time jobs,” you perked up. “It’s not a lot, but once I pay off my loans, I should be able to send you my earnings.”

Ryu stared at you in disbelief. “Seriously? You think two measly jobs that a university student qualifies for are going to be anywhere near enough to cover your debt?”

“I-I’m not sure. How much did he steal?”

“You don’t want to know, doll. I can guarantee it’ll only freak you out even more.” He brought his hand to his chin, dark eyes scanning you over from top to bottom. “Well… come to think of it, you’re very cute. You have a pretty face, and your figure is also nice, from what I can see in that dress. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who’d be willing to pay a nice sum to get better acquainted with your body.”

At first, you were dumbstruck, but the gravity of his words quickly set in.

You stared at him in horror. “Y-You want to pimp me out?”

“I’m considering it. Granted, it may be somewhat of a hassle given your lack of experience, but we could have someone show you the ropes. Get you settled in real nice.”

“No!” you cried out, easily the loudest you’d spoken since being kidnapped. You thought of your mother, who was still fresh in her grave. If she was watching over you from a better place right now, her poor heart would break to see you selling your body out. “Please,” you begged, dropping to your knees before him. “Anything but that. I’ll work as many jobs as you need—I’ll go without sleep, without rest. Just please… please don’t make me do that.”

Ryu stared down at you, eyes filled with mirth. “You can be really adorable at times, you know that? Look at you, already so docile and submissive. That’s a good selling point. The customers will like that.”

“Please,” you cried, “please don’t make me…”

“You seem to be forgetting something. It’s not for you to decide. From this moment onwards, I own your life. You can either do as I say, or I kill you.”

“I would rather die,” you told him defiantly. And you meant those words. You were no stranger to hard work, sleep deprivation, struggling not to buckle under all the stress. But this? You weren’t going to cling to your life only to live on in humiliation. You would rather go out with your dignity still intact.

Ryu gave you an unimpressed look. “You say that now, but that’s only because you haven’t looked death in the eyes yet. You don’t know the pain of torture, the fear of fading into nothingness. So, don’t get smart with me. Whatever you do, it’s my call, not yours.”

You dug your fingers into the fabric of your dress. You felt so small before him, so insignificant. Even more so when you were kneeling. It was true that you knew nothing of the world of the yakuza. But even as misinformed as you were, you weren’t completely ignorant. You saw full well the cruelty in Ryu’s black eyes. That wasn’t the look of a man—it was the look of a beast, a predator hunting for its next kill.

You were nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. He could kill you in a heartbeat and forget you’d ever existed the very next day.

“Relax,” he said, crouching down before you. He reached his hand out towards your head, and you involuntarily flinched, but held your ground. Ryu smiled coldly, running his fingers through your hair. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do. If you work hard, maybe you’ll change my mind. As long as you obey, I have no reason to hurt you.”

You were full-on glaring at him now, no longer trying to hide your animosity. He chuckled, clearly amused at your little show of defiance.

“Unpack your things and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll show around our main office.”

He turned away from you, and you felt a small sense of relief knowing that he was finally about to leave you alone. He didn’t leave, though. At least, not right away. His eyes scanned the corner of the room before he reached over and withdrew what looked to be a yukata.

Without warning, he began changing out of his suit. Your eyes widened, and you hurried to avert your gaze. He probably didn’t even care. As far as he was concerned, you were just an object to him, not a real human being. Still, you waited for some sort of signal that he was done changing, but that signal never came.

Cautiously, you peered back over your shoulder, just in time to see him pulling the yukata up over his shoulders. His back was exposed for a few moments, long enough for you to make a very big, discernible tattoo. It was a dragon, in black and green ink, coiled around itself as if it were dancing through the air. Bright dashes of crimson stood out amidst the dark ink, snaking around the dragon’s body and burning as vividly as a flame.

Ryu tightened the belt of his yukata and stepped out of the room without another word.

The next morning, Ryu stayed true to his words and brought you along to the group’s offices.

As members of an organized crime syndicate, you’d always known that the yakuza didn’t really bother with hiding from the public. If anything, it was a thing of pride for them to display their organization’s identity on nameplates outside the buildings. They skirted on the wrong side of the law, but were able to get by through their connections and the sense of fear they instilled in the authorities.

Still, you were surprised to find out just how normal everything looked.

The offices were no different than what you would see in any ordinary corporate building. Dressed in their suits and working at desks, they almost gave off the air of your day-to-day salarymen. Of course, you knew better than that. You couldn’t say for certainty, but you had a strong feeling that the majority of the members had killed someone before.

Everyone bowed as they greeted Ryu. You had to admit that the respect he commandeered was impressive. He walked with a quiet, strong sense of confidence. You could tell by looking around the room. No one would ever think of opposing him.

Except for your shithead of a dad, apparently.

Ryu eventually stopped in front of a desk. “Here we are. Yuki. I’m putting you in charge of [Name] for now. Show her around the place and teach her how to file all the paperwork. And make sure she doesn’t get any funny ideas. I don’t need another headache to deal with.”

The young man he’d just addressed stood up in a hurry. “Of course, boss. I’ll take care of her.”

“Good. Get to work.”

Ryu walked away, heading to what appeared to be his own private office near the back. You were relieved to know that he wouldn’t be supervising you himself. It felt you could finally breathe again.

“You’re [Name], right?” the man said. He turned towards you and extended his hand out, smiling pleasantly. “I’m Yuki. Maeno Yuki. It’s nice to have you on board.”

He looked to be around your age, much more boyish than the majority of the members. He had wavy golden hair that was practically shining, and pretty emerald eyes. You knew first impressions could be deceiving, but for now, he was definitely much more welcoming than the scary, buff middle-aged men that were all glaring you down.

He looked normal. You liked normal.

You shook Yuki’s hand and forced a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll do my best to keep up.”

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