#the more i read “its a start” the more queasy i got so now i have to yell about it

[reblogglelog]

I was doing my haha teehee post for this scene when I realized that Batman is a walking Trigger (capitol T) for Guy Gardner.

Sad Boy Hours: Guy Gardner

Guy Gardner has severe physical and psychological trauma. His dad is canonically physically and verbally abusive. Guy is pretty frank about it. So, Guy had problems before his frontal lobe got scrambled like an egg.

There are multiple times in the series where Bruce just has to give Guy an order and, counter to the way Guy acts with everyone else, Guy does what he's told. Now, it isn't every time. It wouldn't be Guy Gardner if he didn't try and piss off every human in existence. He knows they're going to find a reason to hate him, call him a piece of shit, so he'll give it to them on his terms. Because that's one way to cope with being the punching bag your whole life. Own it before someone else does. But, there are times Guy becomes timid in response to Bruce.

Guy Gardner doesn't know how to be quiet. There is nothing about this man that allows for subtly. It is physically impossible. The only reason Guy would be quiet is if it was to be bitchy and petulant, but that's not happening here. He's whispering and his eyes are on Bruce's hand, the hand that is gripping his shoulder hard enough to wrinkle the fabric. Guy looks stricken. The little motion lines around his head look like shaking. It's a jarring switch from the frothing man in the panel before.

All Bruce did was tell Guy to say he was sorry. Just to apologize. And he grabs Guy's shoulder. Guy doesn't have all his social tools anymore, but he has muscle memory and flight-fight-freeze, and he's using what he's got.

The "It's a start." is so disappointedly paternal. "It's a start" implies there will be more later. And later is never good.

I know it's not that deep, it's the 80s, they needed someone to be the team asshole. But, I'm also right because my brain is so juicy. Bruce is a walking trigger for Guy Gardner with his perpetual "Angry Dad" energy and the the fact that Bruce is the only one who can get away with bossing Guy around is a by-product of how thoroughly fucked up Guy's head is.

[bonkhrnyjail]

sweet plum | chapter two

masterlist | pinterest board

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: g (will become explicit in later chapters, minors dni)

summary: this is a flashback! just a little backstory on how you got your nickname :P

a/n: hi :) i'm planning to make a masterlist after i've uploaded all of the chapters i've completed so far but i'm also rusty as fuck on how to use tumblr (haven't posted since like... 2017 except for to read fics). anyways, pls enjoy. <3 p.s. i said it in the last one, but i wrote this almost 10 months ago before starbucks started publically supporting a genocide, fuck starbucks and free palestine.

It was hot as the fiery depths of hell outside. The team had ordered sub sandwiches for lunch, but the thought of hot deli meat and thick slabs of cheese made your stomach turn, tiny beads of sweat forming at your hairline. No thank you.

It was barely a week into the job, and you were still getting acclimated to the social environment. You just really wanted to make the right impression; professional but personable, dedicated but effortless, confident but humble. You couldn’t let yourself relax too much, or chances were your sense of humor would likely bite you in the ass.

You sat with your back flush against a massive, sizzling hot tire attached to a big ol' trailer, you weren’t sure whose. You sat alone, your legs extended, long blades of grass dancing along the curve of your calves, tickling and irritating your delicate skin.

It’s not that you were a complete introvert, you loved company. You chose this career because you loved to work with people, building relationships with your clients was one of the greatest joys of your life, but truthfully, you'd always lived in the balance. Alone time was essential to your wellbeing. Being able to sneak off for ten to fifteen minutes and breathe in the peace and quiet was like a reset to you, allowing you to settle into exactly who you wanted to be when you returned to the world of the living.

You heard the sound of crunching gravel from behind you, heavy boots making an awkward clunking sound as they eased their way toward you. You lifted your crooked head to find a backlit head of wavy brown hair and a quizzical brow staring down at you.

“What are you doing back here all by your lonesome?” Pedro questioned, juttering in and out of his Joel Miller coded Texas twang. 

“Just enjoying the peace and quiet. You were pretty damn chatty this morning,” you teased, but immediately regretted it coming out of your mouth. “Just kidding.” you added, clunky and awkward and clearly trying to cover your ass.

“There’s no such thing as peace and quiet when you work with me!” he jabbed, letting out a deep belly laugh, one that invoked an involuntary giggle from your throat.

Something about him made you let your guard down, whether you wanted to or not. Conversation flowed with barely any effort at all. Your senses of humor fit together so beautifully that the majority of your time together was spent laughing until your cheeks were sore. You’d been able to stifle your embarrassing laugh with a demure giggle up until now, but you knew it wasn’t much longer until your cackle would make its presence known.

“May I sit?” he gazed down at the patch of grass next to you, a perfect amount of space for him to slide down and sit, just close enough that your thighs would touch his. You patted the empty spot and scooted yourself a bit to the left, enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies. He plopped down, a bit harder than you were expecting, and started unwrapping the aggressively large sub from its crinkly brown paper.

“Did you eat? These sandwiches are really fuckin’ delicious,” he garbled as he took a massive bite out of the oozing bread, filled with more meats than you could count on your right hand. The sight made you queasy.

“I don’t know why, but the thought of deli meat in this heat… I would rather die. I don’t doubt it though, they look like an... experience, for sure.” you let out a huff of air, almost a laugh but not quite, and he giggled through the remainders of his last bite.

“Aw come on, you’re not gonna let me eat alone, are you?” he teased, pushing more sandwich out from the bottom of the wrapper like it was a Gogurt. “I look like an idiot trying to fit this thing in my mouth.”

You rustled through your mess of a tote bag, trying to locate the fruit that you hastily grabbed as you were bolting out the door that morning. You really needed to organize that shit.

“Here,” you held it up for him to see, him looking up with his sandwich lodged in his mouth, lips stretched and straining around hard shell of the bread crust. You laugh, hard, and he nearly spits out the hearty chunk he'd violently torn off.

“I won’t let you eat alone," you smiled, wrapping your lips and biting deep into the soft, delicate skin.

“What is that?” Pedro managed, struggling to swallow the remainder amalgamation of meat and cheese filling his cheeks, mayonnaise coating the wiry mustache hairs above his upper lip.

“It’s a sweet plum.”

You turned the fruit to show him the sticker, the words printed boldly with a smiling fruit dancing under them.

“They're my favorite, I buy them by the case because I go through them fast. I could bring you one tomorrow if you want.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a sweet plum,” he remarked, matter-of-factly. “I’m more of a berry guy. But I’d definitely like to try one.”

“Totally. I’ll bring you one tomorrow morning,” you affirmed with a smile.

He smiled back, dimples appearing as a soft ray of sun illuminated his skin. Your eyes got lost for a moment, unable to resist studying him in this light.

He was gorgeous. His eyes were deep and sparkling like an amber geode, nose curved and structured like that of a roman god. The apples of his cheeks were prominent and bouncy, fading into the skin around his eyes, crinkled and folded to perfection, like origami. His facial hair, soft and shaggy, was hugging a strong, structured jaw. For a moment you were completely transfixed, unable to avert your gaze from the human art piece staring back at you, still smiling but with a softened gaze. You were still smiling too, a heat flushing your cheeks and prickling your chest.

You were finally able to break away from the moment, returning your attention to the plum dripping a reddish-purple down your thumb. With nothing to break the silence, you took another bite, this one sending streaks of the juice down your hand and arm.

“Jesus,” you muttered through a laugh, grabbing a napkin from your bag with your free hand to clean up the juicy mess.

Pedro hadn't stopped staring at you, his head cocked slightly to the side and his eyes deep in thought.

“What?” you asked nervously.

“I like that… as a name. Plum.” He said, watching as you attempt to catch all of the trickling drips before they land on your skirt. He grabbed a napkin of his own and dabbed at a drip that nearly made it down to your elbow.

“Like, for a person?” You questioned. 

“No, no, a nickname. It has a good ring to it. Kinda... rolls off the tongue nicely.” He went for another bite of the sandwich, this one smaller and more manageable. “Can I call you that?"

Your heart thumped in your chest as your mouth fell open in surprise. The nickname, it sounded so personal, like something you’d call a partner or a child. Would it be appropriate for him to call you that? In front of other people? You knew he didn’t mean it that way, as if, but you've learned from observation that things can be misconstrued very easily in an environment like this. A part of you wanted to say no, to avoid any possibility of conflict, but the other part knew that he wouldn't let you get into any trouble for something that was his idea. You could sense it, he was a truly good guy, far better than the majority you’d known thus far. It was just a bit of fun, an inside joke between the two of you. No harm, no foul.

“Sure,” you swallowed the last bit of your bite, savoring the rich, sweet flavor on the back of your tongue. “But only if you let me figure out a nickname for you too.”

“Deal," He pulled the wrapping back over his sandwich and folded the excess paper under to the bottom. "You think on that, bring me ideas tomorrow, along with that plum. We should figure one out for Bella too.”

“Certainly,” You nodded, wrapping the remaining half of your plum in the napkin you had folded between your fingers.

Excitement stirred in your tummy. You used your free hand to push yourself up, stabilizing your feet underneath you and coming to a standing position. You reached a hand down to grab Pedro’s and help him up off the plush grass.

"Wanna head back?"

He extended his hand and you yanked hard, a bit harder than you meant to. He stumbled forward into you, but you caught him by the shoulders, the only thing separating your chests was a half of a sub sandwich. You both let out a hearty laugh as you shuffled away from each other, a thick and palpable tension filling the space between you.

“Thanks, plum.”

The words rolled off of his tongue like they were made for his mouth. You bit down on a grin as you followed him back to the crowd, buzzing and floaty and your head mostly empty, save the echo of his voice in your ear.

. . . . . .

The next morning you woke up with a plastered grin, springing out of bed, probably for the first time in your life. It was much earlier than you usually made it out of bed, but your excitement kept you snoozing your alarm like usual. You'd stayed up late that night, creating a small list of nickname ideas for both Bella and Pedro, tucked away in your notes app for later.

You managed to shower, dry and style your hair, do your makeup, and eat breakfast all before nine. Call was at eleven, and you can't remember the last time you had this much morning. You sat on the couch with your shoes on, three plums wrapped up in napkins, peeking out of your bag. A yawn sprawled itself across your face.

You needed caffeine.

“Hey Siri, call Pedro Pascal.” you said without overthinking it.

You hoped that Pedro wouldn’t mind you calling him with the promise of caffeine on the other end. You’d seen how much coffee he consumed on set… probably enough to kill a pilgrim. 

“... H-Hello?” a deep, groggy voice rumbled through the little speaker next to your ear.

“Oh god, are you sleeping? Jesus I’m sorry, it’s not that important…”

“It’s alright, I mean, I was sleeping, but I probably shouldn’t be. How are you?” his voice still a low and raspy whisper that gave you goosebumps.

“I’m… I’m good! Good," you tumbled on your words, not expecting his thoughtfulness after a such a rude awakening. "Yeah, the cosmos must have shifted because I woke up… early?”

He let out a soft chuckle. You felt a tiny pang in your chest. Making him laugh always made you feel a bit giddy.

“Anyways, I was going to get some coffee before work. I was just wondering if you might want anything? I was gonna get some from the Starbucks down the street from my place. Do you like Starbucks? I know you’re probably used to something a bit more upscale, I can go somewhere else too-”

“I like Starbucks.” he blurts, cutting off your rambling. You can hear the smile in his voice.

Why were you rambling? You never acted like this around any of your other clients. Maybe it was the pressure of the job, or the fact that you just accidentally woke up the biggest celebrity you’ve ever worked with to ask him if he wanted Starbucks.

You felt careless, a little dumb. A text would have sufficed. But something you couldn’t quite explain, something beyond your consciousness, urged you to call. It felt like possession, only gaining back control of yourself when you heard his low baritone on the other line.

“Oh! Awesome. Cool, cool… what would you want?” you ask, your voice strangely higher in pitch than usual. You cringed after the words left your mouth, still flabbergasted at your unnatural behavior. 

“Iced espresso, 6 shots please.” he croaked, the sound of rustling sheets muffling his voice on the other line.

You paused for a moment, in shock.

“Ha ha ha,” you let out a clearly fake and forced laugh.

He couldn’t be serious?

“What?” you heard on the other line, the sink gently running in the background. “That’s my usual.”

“… you’re joking…” you uttered, genuine concern taking over. 

He didn’t respond. 

“Hey, buddy? I can not be responsible for you going into cardiac arrest. I’m not CPR certified and I can’t have a client’s death on my CV.”

He let out that hearty, booming belly laugh he so often did, the one that echoed off the walls of any room and filled the space with its warmth.

“It’ll be fine,” He cooed, doing his best to ease your concern. “I gotta have my go-go juice.”

You laughed hard, barely able to hold in a snort.

“Fine, ok, 6 shots of espresso over ice. Do you know what Bella likes?”

“Uh... It has vanilla in it…” he trailed off, his words replaced by a symphony of ums and ers, ”I uh…. I don't remember. I’ll call them and call you back.”

“You can just text me you know, it’s no problem,” you offered.

“I hate texting. Talk to you in a bit.”

The call drops. 

You sat in the same spot you were, staring at your phone, waiting for the call to appear. You didn’t check Instagram or TikTok, didn’t pull out a book or put on headphones to listen to music… nothing. You simply sat there, staring at your lock screen as the minutes passed, just waiting.

A jolt shot down your body when the call finally appeared, your ringtone set to the highest volume.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice a bit shaky from the jumpscare.

“Hi— You ok?”

He's so thoughtful.

“Yeah! Yeah, I just wasn’t expecting my phone to ring.” you lied, the idiocy of the statement completely oblivious to you in the moment.

“I told you I’d call you back!” he exclaimed, teasingly. “Forgetting about me that fast, huh?”

You let out a schoolgirl giggle, and nearly smacked yourself in the face when you heard the involuntary sound leave your mouth.

“Ok, Bella wants a… hold on, I wrote it down.” he drawled as you heard him searching for the paper. “Medium…. Vanilla Sweet Cream… Cold Brew. Phew. Such complicated names.”

“Remind me to never have you order my drink for me then. You’d probably pass out trying.”

“Go on, lemme try.”

“Grande Iced Blonde Honey Oat Milk Shaken Espresso, light ice, cinnamon on top.” you recited, speeding up your words purposefully, making it sound even more ridiculous.

You heard a soft chuckle, the speaker barely picking up on its volume.

“Damn. Nevermind.”

You laugh alongside him, your stomach balling up into a knot.

“Ok, well, I'm gonna go get your go-go juice, I’ll see you soon.”

“What, you don’t want to chat?” he questioned in a disappointed tone. 

He wants to chat?

“I... well, I suppose I just assumed that you’d have something more… pressing to do.” you spoke in somewhat of a mumble.

“I can do both.” he said, a smile thick and coating his tone.

You put on your headphones and booked it towards the door.

.   .   .   .   .   .

You talked to Pedro throughout your entire commute to work. You both laughed as you ordered his usual, and he tried over and over again to get the name of your drink right while you waited at the counter. You probably looked insane to the people around you, laughing essentially non-stop with your headphones in, the buds unintentionally hidden under your hair.

When you arrived to work, Pedro greeted you from across the lot, the call still going and his phone up to his ear. 

“Should we hang up?” he asked, whispering into the phone so you couldn’t hear his real voice from where you were standing.

You hit the end button without saying anything and started walking towards him with the drink carrier, keys and phone in one hand and your bag in the other. 

“Uh, RUDE,” he shouted toward your direction, hand on one hip and knee popped out to the side. “Do you need some help?”

You let him take your bag as you headed up to the trailer to get started with hair for the day. Pedro plopped himself in the chair as you turned on the brilliant, somewhat blinding lights on the vanity mirror.

“I have a present for you! Other than the coffee,” you said in a lilting, sing-songy voice.

You held the plum in your two hands and presented it to him like something precious and rare.

“I washed it already, but I can wash it again if you want. Do you want it right now?”

He grabbed it out of your hands and took a massive bite. Juice spilled all down the sides of his mouth and into his salt and pepper facial hair. You started cackling at the sight, quickly holding the napkin beneath his chin to keep the little red rivers from dripping onto his clothes.

“Mmmm, I see what you mean,” he managed, his mouth still full of the fruit. “It’s so sweet, but just the tiniest bit tangy, and so juicy."

He went in for another bite, this one somehow bigger than the last.

"It’s really, really good.” he garbled.

“I’m glad you like it,” you replied sweetly. You placed the napkin in his free hand and started to set up the products on the nearby counter.

“Helloooo?” you heard from the other end of the trailer, an english accent lilting off the confined walls of the trailer's interior.

“Heeeey guuuurl,” Pedro sang across the space, responding to Bella. “You gotta try this fruit, it's amazing. Here, have a bite-”

“No no, I brought Bella one too!” you cut Pedro off, quickly grabbing the items from the counter and extending your hands toward them; one with the fruit wrapped in a napkin, cold brew in the other. “Be careful, it’s really juicy.”

“Oh my gosh you are so sweet, thank you!” Bella said as they opened their arms for a hug.

You wrapped your arms around them, squeezing them tight with a little shake. So far you felt the most comfortable around Bella out of the whole cast. Something about their energy was so welcoming, and despite their age you felt like you could probably be friends. Real friends.

They pulled away and took a small bite of the plum; napkin wrapped around it, catching any of the escaping drips. 

“Oh my god, this fruit is incredible. What is this?”

“It’s a sweet plum.” Pedro chimed in, enthused. “Which is also my new nickname for my lovely hairstylist.”

“I brought ideas for nicknames for both of you too,” you beamed through a wide smile.

“That's so cute. I love it,” Bella sat in the chair to the left of Pedro’s, legs folded criss-cross and continuing to munch on the fruit.

The three of you went over your list as you started working on Pedro’s hair for the day. You gave Bella your phone to make any adjustments or additions as you considered the options carefully. After a near half hour of contemplation, interlaced stupid jokes and explosive bouts of laughter, you landed on just “P” for Pedro. 

“I like how punchy it sounds,” he explained. “Like, imagine I walk into a room and just say, 'The name’s P.' That’s powerful man. P for the powerful Pedro Pascal.”

You and Bella cackled at the ridiculous sentiment, but agreed that P was fitting. It was punchy, and utterly ridiculous, just like him.

You were halfway down the list of ideas for Bella when Pedro jumped up straight.

“I HAVE IT! I HAVE IT!” He swiveled around in his chair to face Bella, damn near knocking you off of your feet with him. “Bella and Ellie. Bellie.”

You gasped.

“Oh, yes, yep. That’s the one.” You reached a hand down low, palm up, inviting Pedro to high five it.

Bella loved it too.

As you finished up Pedro’s hair, the three of you talked, joked and laughed, roaring until your stomachs burned. You couldn’t remember the last time that you had been so utterly content. 

Over time, the names settled in effortlessly, like missing puzzle pieces in your speech. They belonged there, special, as your friendship bloomed in the months that followed.

. . . . .

chapter three

[randomwriteronline]

I wonder if the toa mata recognized themselves in their own memories from before mata nui.

I dont know, i think theres possibilities to be explored about that. Suddenly remembering yourself and what you find being a complete stranger is a common thing for amnesia plots i guess but also i think this could be even more jarring. Like a more genuine difference between killing machine and living being.

Its less a matter of nature vs nurture and more a matter of nature with a certain type of nurture. Nature dictates they are powerful and driven and well meaning, but the way they are brought up produces completely different people.

Their first taste of life was a sterile room with nobody but each other and a disembodied voice reading out their duties, establishing an arbitrary hierarchy within them, and then sending them to a glorified bootcamp where a ruthless instructor worked on making them into skilled combatants and nothing else, teaching them how to use their elements as tools and weapons without indulging in them; they got a vague sense of what and how a community feels like with the Av-Matoran - as outsiders, as its protective shield, there for them but not with them - only to get that stripped away from them too because their role as life saving tools to be preserved under glass just in case of a crisis was more important.

I wonder if the Toa Mata, the ones who were taken to the Koro of Mata Nui and listened to the Turaga's tales and reprimands and would have moved mountains for the Matoran who treated them like older siblings, return with their minds to things they said or thought or did from before the Island of Mata Nui and stop in their tracks. Whose memory is that, they think? That can't be mine. I am not like that. My siblings are not like that. Some things are perfectly right, they cant deny that; but just as many if not more are so wrong that they almost feel like a really cruel joke somebody planted into their heads.

Kopaka and Tahu got along, even if they dont want to admit it because they need to bicker like children or theyll die, but are more surprised that they werent as tentatively close with anybody else. Lewa remembers so much frustration and tedium and anger that if he stalls in his memories too much he genuinely starts feeling queasy, Pohatu has remnants of bitterness and passive aggression that still cling to him like the smell of a cigarette on someone who gave up smoking, and they both hate that because its nothing like them. Onua and Gali feel like theyre peering into some kind of imperfect clone's brain when they try to remember - its themselves, they know that, it has to be, but there are certain things they know about themelves that are just completely missing and its kind of dizzying to realize that.

Im not even sure they liked each other. They work together because its their destiny, but they don't seem to seek each other out for fun or anything else. In their training days they had to be shoved in each others direction or they would have never solved their obligatory group assignments.

I wonder if their terrors and flaws could partially come from this first life that they had too. Gali's fear of her anger and Lewa's disregard for duty stemming from Hydraxon's methods - she internalized his reprimands about feeling guilt for living enemies, but without any memory of him she believes the words resurfacing in her mind from time to time are her own, and is appalled by their cruelty; he was forbidden from enjoying himself, from indulging in any form of fun, of entertainment, of joy, and unconsciously now he rebels by shirking away from responsability to do whatever he wants.

The responses to Tahu's decision regarding the codrex haunt him, the whole situation, really; how he stripped his siblings of any say on their fate because he was the leader, not even telling them or explaining himself until they had no other choice, and if he could treat them like that once then what would stop him from doing so again and again until he doesnt even think about it? Kopaka is uneasy about it too. He knew the plan and supported Tahu only because he tagged along, but hes very, very acutely aware that he would have been left just as much in the dark as everybody else otherwise, and he would gave not even had anybody to seek any comfort from because hes fairly certain none of the others would have liked him enough to care.

Onua as @cantankerouscanuck pointed out to me mightve taken Hydraxon's teachings to heart, hence why he's so quiet: no use in expressing weakness, right? But karda nui must have been hellish on his senses, with all that light - a tangible physical discomfort that would bleed out into an emotional one as he becomes conscious of how none of his siblings go through this, thus he must be damaged in some way, faulty, out of place, and so he seeks to be alone, digging himself away. And its not hard to imagine how Pohatu (who hasnt had the chance to grow into the affable, kind toa his siblings can always lean on when they need to yet) would become convinced of his uselessness within the team and seethe about it.

They arrive on Mata Nui as broken war machines with no clue who they even are and suddenly find nature and community and love, and in a moment theyre people.

I wonder if the environment helped. Being thrown upon a beach in the open air with nothing but a whole world that is so alien and yet feels so right beckoning them to come closer. Discovering their powers and their domains freely, immediately - first thing they did was dive into their respective elements without a second thought, naturally magnetized, taking after them like it was the simplest thing in the world, because they are the first toa, the first beings capable of harnessing these powers in their whole universe, and its in their nature to be so connected to them. Maybe it helped. Maybe it made them feel connected to their own selves enough to figure themselves out in a way they couldnt have done so before.

Maybe it helped to find out their collective destiny each on their own, in their own environment, at their own pace, surrounded by younger siblings who look at them with awe and curiosity and frustration sometimes, guided by people who know how being alive works with all its good parts and messy bits and who can tell what having so much power means when youre barely aware of how to use it or what to do. And maybe it helped to find out who their siblings were in a similar way, introducing themselves as they wanted, as they felt like, without a specific order, and learning to recognize each other as siblings with all the things that make them insufferable and all the things that make them the best and what makes them happy and what makes them angry and how they sound when theyre worried and how likely they are to chase you down to the other edge of the island for doing something stupid, and like real people they grow and develop and change and stay the same, and then they meet the memory of themselves from before becoming people and its...

Idk. Its like the realization of who they used to be and the distance between themselves and those selves, and the fact that they dont like them.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Ineffable (Dream of the Endless x f!Reader) - Chapter 2: Devious

Also with Corinthian x f!Reader

Masterlist - Playlist

Everyone, please welcome your favourite charismatic miscreant, The Corinthian. Wonder what's in store for him and the Reader? Read on, fellow dreamers.

I wake up well rested. After the conversation with Dream in the library, I just wandered off into Fiddler's Green and lay down on the grass. There wasn't much work to be done in that moment, so I just thought it would be nice to reconnect with an old friend.

For reasons which are probably all too clear, Gilbert may be one of my favourite places to roam in the Dreaming. And I vaguely remember already unwittingly wandering there, years before I even met Gilbert. He once said that I look quite familiar, and this was in our second meeting, so I just jokingly breathed out, "Well, I'm glad I have a face you wouldn't see fit to forget."

Of course, once I moved back to London from living with Gilbert and Rose, I admit I had to find my footing once more. I had to re-enroll at UCL and come across some familiar faces I'd rather would not have encountered again. Uni was both a refuge and a bother, in my experience. But of to course, getting accepted into my BA in Classics was almost a miracle, considering my high school record back in America. This opportunity seemed the only avenue for which I would be able to develop my passion in the Latin language and its texts, but the people were.... meh, to say the least.

Now back in London, living in a humble little studio in Walthamstow, and struggling to piece through my thesis, I have to admit I miss waking up in the morning to Hal practicing their dramatic numbers in the living room, Barbie and Ken having a constant lovers' spat in the room next to me, and so on..

I plant my feet on the floor, and stretch. I stand, and it takes me about 10 steps to reach the modest, little coffee machine in my kitchen. I get it started, and wait.

My mind drifts to what Morpheus said the night before... "You are important to me."

Hmmm... something tingles up my spine - a feeling of warmth, excitement. At the very least, now I know that the attraction may not be one-sided after all.

Silly girl, my thoughts barge in, you mistake interest for genuine connection.

I am pushed out of my thoughts by the ring from the intercom. Who could it possibly be at this Godforsaken hour?

"Yes?" I press the button.

"Why, hello, darling..." a familiar voice drawls.

"Cor?!" I hear myself squeak. Damn, I really do need that coffee.

"The one and only."

"What are you doing here?" I ask, but I have a feeling I am eager to see him, no matter the reason. Well. Shows you how messed up I am.

The Corinthian and I first crossed paths nearly 2 years ago, before I was even fully accepted into the fold in the Dreaming. Gil, Rose and I had driven to some hotel after receiving an anonymous call about her brother Jed. Looking back, it's understandable why I sensed something was wrong when we arrived.

They were having some sort of 'Cereal Convention', regardless of the fact that there was nothing even remotely related to cereal in sight. I had a hard time describing it at the time but the people made me feel queasy, especially the guy in the check-in booth with the name tag, Fun Land. Even Gil looked shaken after walking off for a few minutes, and he had managed to catch me in the lobby before leaving and stammered, "Be very careful, and look out for Jed and Rose!"

Minutes later, I bumped into a tall man with dirty-golden hair, and I was so amped up with adrenaline that I cried out, "Fuck!".

"Well, excuse me." he laughed, "That was my bad, I guess."

"Sorry," I felt embarrassed, straightened up and got a good look at him, "Nice glasses." I remarked.

"Ah, well that's nice of you to say." He leaned back, as if assessing me, "You're... different."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's a beautiful girl like you doing... here, of all places?" He spoke as if he had never lacked confidence a day in his life.

"It's a Cereal Convention, isn't it? Maybe I like cereal." I nervously said and thought, What a flirt.

He looked down at the name tag I was wearing, which Rose had managed to nab from the Welcome desk.

"The Siren, huh? As fitting as that sounds, I have a feeling you don't belong here. So maybe you should leave before it gets..."

"There you are!" He was interrupted by a wiry woman in a tailored suit, with a shorter, tense-looking man, "We have to introduce you to some people."

"Be right there." He politely said.

He glanced back at me once more, and it seemed as if he had more to say, but held it in.

"Good day, ma'am," He tilted his head, "Take care of yourself."

Weird...and strangely well-spoken, I had thought. The tone of his voice was almost akin to being melodic, reeling you in.

I would come to understand much later why he had warned me to leave. Jed, Rose and I found ourselves chased by Fun Land down a hallway. He had us trapped in a corner, but I had become so livid, thinking of what he could have done to Jed, what he had done to so many other kids...

I let out an agitated scream, and felt a rush of energy emanate from me. The lights flickered wildly, and he was flung a few feet backwards, hitting a wall with a crack.

Shit, I thought, I had done it again.

The Corinthian strode in from the end of the hallway, as if he had been there all this time.

"I thought I told you to leave." He said to me, as if almost annoyed.

"Oh well," He shrugged, and grinned maniacally, "The more, the merrier."

Of course, this was all before he had to be eliminated by Morpheus, and later reincarnated to be more loyal and subdued, and less... well... homicidal.

He returned to doing his duties in the Dreaming, where we crossed paths once more.

"It's you." He said, as if he wasn't surprised at all of my presence. Or of how I was able to move and do as I please in Morpheus' kingdom.

I had walked in the central hall, ready to report on the affairs of several dreamers that I was tasked to handle for that time.

"I knew she was special," he directed to Morpheus and Lucienne, "and now here she is."

He had looked highly amused. Morpheus looked back and forth between myself and The Corinthian, and it's safe to say he did not share his amusement.

We managed to see each other time and again in the Dreaming, and we've become quite familiar that I now see him as a... friend, of sorts. I was initially cautious around him, reckoning with all the things that he'd done, but I've come to know of who he is, made anew. In some ways, perhaps this was how The Corinthian was meant to be all along. He retained his calculated brand of deviousness, which seeped in ways such as in the musings that he would share with me. But I can see where he's coming from. I understand him, I think. Besides, I can't claim to being a complete saint myself.

I've also grown to calling him Cor instead of his official-sounding moniker.

"I just feel like I'm addressing a Bible verse sometimes." I grumbled once, to which he let out a guffaw. Don't get me wrong, I do like his name just as it is, but I liked the fact that only I called him by something else. It feels more...intimate.

Strangely, I barely saw him in the past few months, both in the Dreaming and the Waking World. I tried searching for him, when I was sifting through the Dreaming, but I couldn't.

I once came back to the library to find His Great Lordship sat there in all his solemn glory. He really looks like he needs Aspirin and some sunlight sometimes, that anthropomorphic personification. And perhaps a hug. Or two.

"You should stop trying to find him," he said, "He's occupied. And besides, considering his track record, he may not be the best companion for you."

"You made him," I pointed out, "and he's better now. You made him better."

He stared at me long and hard. "Nevertheless..."

He went back to what he was reading, and I walked off to find a volume that I needed. Why was he being so dismissive?

-------

"Are you going to let me in, or should I just manifest myself in your room?" Cor's voice echoes through the intercom. I manage to collect my thoughts, and press the opening buzzer.

Half a minute later, I open the door.

"Hey there, trouble." He leans on the doorframe.

"Trouble yourself." I go in for a hug. It's been a while.

He laughs warmly. "I can see that trouble missed her favourite Nightmare."

He walks into my flat, and takes everything in.

"Cozy." He comments.

"Don't say a word," I point at him, "It's... nice."

"Hey, I never said it wasn't." He puts his hands up, and sits down on my bed.

"What are you doing in the Waking World anyway? Morpheus know you're here?" I walk to the kitchen and finally fix myself a cup coffee.

"Well, I was looking for you, actually." he responds, "And no, I think Lord Morpheus may be dealing with something else at the moment."

"Oh?" I sit next to him.

"What do you say we go on a trip?" he proposes, nudging me with an elbow, "I actually have something I have to do in the Waking World. Loose ends to tie up and all that."

"I'm listening..." I mumble, taking a sip of coffee.

"It'll be fun." He declares excitedly.

"You know that really doesn't tell me anything, Cor," I complain, "I haven't seen you for months and now you want to go on some roadtrip?"

"Precisely." He says, not missing a beat. As if his plan was completely ordinary.

I think to my work, my unfinished thesis. I glance around at the state of disarray of my tiny home, which bothers me. And what about the mission I have to undertake with Morpheus?

Well, I suppose my thesis can wait. Who knows? Maybe getting some fresh air may be just what I need to find the right words to put to the page.

As for Morpheus... I'll see him in my dreams.

"Fine." I give in.

"Perfect." Cor smiles widely, and I found myself having missed this sight.

"But first...." I demand, "You help me clean up." I gesture around with one hand.

He breathes out, and after a pause, strides to the closet where I keep the cleaning supplies. He pulls out the vacuum, and I giggle at the whole picture.

"Stop it." He says firmly, feigning annoyance.

"You're actually doing this?" I ask, incredulous.

"Well, this might ruin my fuckin' suit. But... anything for you, trouble."

End of Chapter 2.

All right, that was quite heavy on the Corinthian x reader side but his character is just sooo. . delicious.

The dynamic of Dream x reader x Corinthian will be shown in the next one!

Also, this was barely proofread so I may make some tweaks later if needed.

How do you guys like The Corinthian? Would you like more of him? Or shall the focus be on Dream?

[faroreskiss]

The Power of Understanding / Part 5 (v2)

v2 (rewritten) posted on: 2023/09/10

Read of Ao3

Cheat Sheet

Chapters: Part 4, Part 6,

Warnings: None? Red parts are "Post-Calamity Hylian" (PCH), AKA the language you speak with Wild.

In this chapter: More backstory, how you met the chain and how you found out about the price of it.

The rest of the breakfast was uneventful; you and Zelda enjoyed the delicious pumpkin pancakes prepared by Link, with homemade butter and cream. Yum.

Even though it was a day when you didn't have to go to the lab with Zelda, there was still much to do. It takes a long time to build a kingdom from scratch, after all. This was to everybody’s advantage, as the unspoken things were going to stay unspoken for a little longer.

Today's topic was children. Ugh, you really didn’t like them as much, but you couldn't deny that their brains were like sponges for information, and it was interesting to observe how they learned things, especially languages. Zelda was planning a history and grammar lesson for the village kids, and you, of course, volunteered to help with the material prepping.

Link also liked teaching, but this time his subject in the "school" was going to be "P.E.", as you taught him the word. A fancy way of saying he was going to teach horse riding.

The weather was luckily quite sunny on that day, perfect for a class outside. While the history class was nearing its end, he went to run some errands and to pick up his horse from the Hateno stable. It was built recently and kind of on the outskirts of the village.

A couple of hours later, he came back with a very odd group of travelers. All armored, relatively young men and a teenager. They looked quite intimidating, yet somehow familiar to you.

Including Link, all of them looked like a huge mess, as if they just fought something. Some of them had blood stains on them, some had scars that looked like they were recently bleeding. Zelda was still teaching the class, so you stepped out of there to make sure children didn’t get distracted by the group and walked towards them.

“Link?” you called to him. “Who are these people?”

As you said ‘Link,’ you couldn’t help but notice how the travelers behind him kind of also perked up, even if just for a second. You raised an eyebrow, carefully considering what to make of them as they exchanged looks between each other and nodded.

“Erhm,” he hesitated, scratching his head. “I don’t know actually. I can make out some of the words they say but it’s not super clear, right when we thought we were figuring it out, we ran across some weird monsters on the way, and they were able to handle themselves pretty well, so I thought… I don’t know, the whole thing is weird. More we walked, the less understandable their speech got. I thought you could maybe help… so..”

“Hello!” you greeted them with a wave.

One of them, the one with the wolf pelt, said something. You could almost, almost make it out. There was something familiar about what he just said, if only you could understand…

Then a horrible, splitting headache and a piercing sound started assaulting you. You screamed in agony, getting down on your knees and holding your head.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?”

Then some type of darkness swallowed you whole.

_______________

You groaned, feeling dizzy. What just happened? Your stomach was feeling queasy. One moment you were in the village square, and now… in a forest? It seemed like those 8 people were also with you.

You called out to Link, then realized he was right next to you, motionless. You held his head and called out to him again.

He startled at your touch, and it seemed like the first sense he regained was hearing. “(Y/N)?” He seemed to recognize your voice, but it's like his brain still needed a second to process what's happening. Then an expression of relief crossed his face, “Hey.. I’m okay,” he said as he composed himself. For some reason, his speech became… less recognizable. It was him alright, but you felt the feeling of familiarity slowly seep away. It felt wrong.

“Hey!” you called out to the rest of those people, who were all in some type of state of dishevelment, gathering their belongings from the floor or using the dirt ground as their puke bowl. The one with some type of animal pelt on his shoulders approached you and Link.

“Uhm,” he said cautiously, “A’ yu okei?”

It took everything in you to not laugh out loud. Was that supposed to be English? You understood what he meant, but it’s been so long since you heard, well, plain English. Hylian was just a weird mashup between Japanese and English from your point of view (and sometimes other languages), and it took a bit for you to learn.

Either way, you composed yourself and decided to try your luck with plain English. It was taking you so long to answer, you started feeling rude towards this nice gentleman who looked oddly familiar. He had some markings on his face. Quite distinctive, and to be honest, he was such a hottie. 

You just nodded at him, “And you? Are you okay? Can you understand me?”

“Ya, I caen. Ya spei’k almost onaji like ore.”

Okay, but this was ridiculous. Sure, the "Post Calamity Hylian," let's call it, was also a mash like this, but at least it sounded like an actual language. This was just strange, like a bad joke.

But it also made sense. Some games in the TLoZ series used kana as the basis of their Hylian alphabet, like in Minish Cap or Wind Waker, or OoT; you even tried to transcribe some once. Some games like Skyward Sword or Twilight Princess, however, were using a script based on the Latin alphabet. Huh. Maybe that’s why…

But then, these people must be…? You just needed to test it.

“Link?”

There was no mistaking it. Every single one of them perked up and looked towards you.

“Oh shit,” you cursed under your breath.

Link tilted his head and gave the man a confused look when he spoke. “Hm. You sound odd. But you were sort of speaking Hylian, yeah?” He seemed puzzled as he looked back at you.

“Does that mean you understand what he's saying?” he continued, staring at you.

Link seemed puzzled as he watched you communicate with the man and didn't understand what's going on. He watched you talk, though, and when you finally finished and asked the man if he understood you, the man suddenly nodded his head rapidly, giving an 'Uh-huh' sound.

“Yes, yes I do… Oh Link, not sure how I can explain this to you, but I think… All those people are called Link.”

“Don’t you understand him when he talks?” you asked back to your interlocutor with the animal pelt.

“Lady, we someho’ managd da comms wi the rest o’ da grup, but koitsu over here still koe no gibberish to us,” he said, pointing at Link, as he looked to the rest of the group, asking for confirmation.

He sounded absolutely ridiculous. If only...

"So, I take it, you are also Link then?" you said back to the guy with the pelt. You felt a tinge of pain in your head. You didn’t pay much attention to it.

“Yep.”

The pelt guy was still standing nearby, staring at Link intently. His expression was a blend of sadness, frustration, and pity. It looked as if he held strong negative emotions towards Link.

Your eyes widened. Did this Link and your Link ever meet? If you are correct, and if that is the Link from Twilight Princess… They kind of did. Didn’t they?

Meanwhile, all the Links (you were pretty sure at this point) already gathered their belongings and moved toward the conversation.

Most importantly, you were still not screaming out loud, and the fangirl scream stayed in your brain. These people were all Links, you were pretty sure. This was almost like a dream come true, if you disregard the fact that you are in the middle of fucking nowhere in a forest with an upcoming throbbing headache. You tried to keep your cool.

“Ey, Rancher. Learn anything?” another Link with something wrapped around his neck, a scarf perhaps, asked, as they stopped chattering between each other. He was the one that sounded the most understandable so far. 

The tinge of ache actually started to intensify even more. It was still manageable. You dealt with worse. The skinny looking Link was absolutely staring at you with a puzzled expression.

Pelt guy (probably Twilight Princess Link?) didn’t break eye contact with you as he spoke. “No, but for some reason, you speak better now?” he replied to him, it might have sounded sarcastic in any other context, but he sounded genuine. 

“Yeah, okay, what the fuck?” came from the Link with the red tunic.

“Ookay, guys, this is really trippy. You don’t sound so funny anymore,” said the teenager.

The Link with one eye missing and the skinny-looking one looked at each other. They seemed more like they had an idea about what’s going on.

“Huh… didn’t think translation magic actually existed, just like that,” he said slowly, looking up at you. 

Your Link also spoke, “I… understand them, but it is hard. The words don’t sound… quite understandable, but I get the gist of it? Maybe?”

Pang. Another tinge of pain in your head. Sharper this time.

Your headache was intensifying. More anybody spoke, the worse it got. Did you suddenly develop migraines? You were pretty sure that’s not how migraines worked. 

The teenager gave your Link a puzzling look. ”Uh, that guy is BARELY understandable.”

Another pang. It felt like somebody stabbed you in the eye, but from the inside. 

Your head was throbbing. The more they spoke, the more it hurt.

The ‘introduction round’ went through anyway; each of them explained the story of how they met, how they have been together a while. How they were all the chosen heroes of their respective eras, the strange monsters that appeared recently. To anybody else, it might have sounded like these people just escaped an asylum. But the Triforce marks in their hands, some of the accessories they carried… To you, that was unmistakable. You squeezed Link’s hand subtly, and told him to trust you. That these people were not lying to him.

But even in the state you were in, you were about to explode with excitement; girl, you played all of these games. When it was Link’s turn, you were the one that explained it to them. They still weren’t able to understand him quite well. You didn’t mention the 100 years of sleep part, but told them about the Calamity and how Link defeated it some time ago. The rest was his to tell, if he decided to. 

Pang. Pang. Pang.

Though for some reason, the so-called "understanding better" buff was not there as much anymore. Links had noticed it as well, the Link next to you noticing it first. The more they were able to understand Link, the less clear their speech got to each other. Basically reverting to what it was, before you met them, you supposed. And more your Link sounded foreign to you. 

Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang. Pang Pang Pang Pang Pang Pang Pang.

And you REALLY weren't feeling well.

The Old Man raised his eyebrow.

You made eye contact with the skinny Link (Link from the first game, you were pretty sure), who understood that something was wrong, as blood from your nose was dripping onto your blouse.

Then you lost consciousness.

```````````

[thepenultimateword]

Hey, so I just found your blog and I had to tell you your work is top-notch. Like I just started reading Don't Tell My Mom and now your writing is like a drug for me.

Inevitably I started reading Date Or Die...

And part 4 sort of ended with a cliffhanger and I started sobbing. I need to know what happens. I'm very politely demanding/begging for a part 5.

And in return I am giving you freshly baked🍪🍰🎂 and 🍧🍬🍹.

Love your work

My heart 🥹 ❤️ I’ve read this post so many times within the past few days. Seriously, thank you so much, it means a lot to know someone enjoys my writing so much! Of course, you can have more Date or Die!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Supervillain scrambled upright, pressing one hand to their belly as if it could steady the leftover queasiness in their gut. "What are you doing here?"

"Healer called me," Friend said, gently but firmly pushing Supervillain back against the headboard. They retrieved a steaming tray from the dresser, and set it on their lap. "They said you were poisoned. I was worried."

Supervillain stared blankly at the plate of scrambled eggs, plain wheat toast, and little bowl of applesauce. When they raised their gaze back toward Friend, the other supervillain grinned and nodded at the food encouragingly.

Supervillain did not lift their spoon.

"Why would they tell you that?"

Friend sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and scooping up a spoonful of eggs for them. "Maybe because they knew someone needed to be here to take care of you. Here."

Supervillain pressed their lips together stubbornly, and Friend raised their brow. Like Supervillain told Villain at the wedding, once Friend got an idea into their head, they didn't let go of it, so eventually Supervillain opened their mouth and let the other villain feed them.

"Thanks," Supervillain said, moving aside the tray as soon as they were done swallowing, "but Villain's here. They've been taking care of me just fine."

"Really?" Friend scrunched their forehead. "I didn't see them."

"We both fell asleep. They probably woke up in the night and went back to the guest room."

Supervillain strode out of the room and up the stairs, skipping every other step along the way.

Villain's door was ajar, but a quick peek inside found the bed made and unslept in. More than that, the set of suitcases that usually peeked out from under the bed frame were gone.

Supervillain slid open the top drawer of the dresser. Empty. A sick feeling that had nothing to do with yesterday's poison began making itself known in the pit of their stomach.

"Maybe they left?" Friend said as a shadow behind them.

"They wouldn't do that."

"Why?"

Because they know I'd find them.

No, something was wrong. Maybe they'd known it from the moment they woke up. They just hadn't wanted to believe it. They spun on their heel and met friend face-to-face.

"What are you doing here?" they repeated, icier this time.

They couldn't remember a time when they hadn't wanted to see Friend. When they first fell in love with them, they'd ached to see them. Catching even a glimpse was like a gentle summer's rain, warm and hazy. A few weeks ago that had still stood true, but now a feral panic clawed at their nerves. Their hands were itching to take them apart. And honestly, they didn't think they'd feel bad.

"I told you," Friend began gently, slowly, almost like Supervillain was a child. "I'm here to take care of you. Villain's not here, so until they get back--"

"I swear, if your creepy spouse did something to them--"

Friend's lip curled and the bridge of their nose scrunched like a wolf baring its fangs. "Don't you dare talk about my spouse that way!"

"They poisoned me!"

It ripped out before Supervillain could catch themself, but Friend was just as quick.

"Have you ever thought it might've been Villain?"

Supervillain breath caught, and their heart pounded loudly in their ears, filling up the gap of silence.

Villain...poisoning them? No. What a nonsense thing to say.

"What are you talking about?" they scoffed, trying their best to not seem like their insides weren't souring for the second time in 24 hours.

"I haven't said anything because you've been so happy," Friend continued, "but I don't trust Villain.

How dare they! They didn't even know Villain! And now they were missing and maybe scared somewhere, and all this narcissist could talk about was rubbish!

"For pity's sake, Friend, you're just jealous!" Supervillain exploded. "All this glaring and nagging and bugging me with comparisons to your oh-so-great relationship; I thought you wanted me to find someone!"

Friend surged forward a step. "I do! Someone who truly loves you back! Just think about it. Your relationship with them has been weird from the start: The way they stand around you is stiff, they stumble over their pet names, they're always picking at their nails like they're nervous to be around, and if that isn't enough, someone within your own network moving into a serious relationship with you so fast? Don't you find that suspicious?"

Supervillain almost laughed. Yeah, their relationship was strange alright, just not for the reason Friend was thinking. Though they couldn't ignore their words completely.

As much as they hated to believe it, it did make sense. It had been Villain's last day, and they would have been desperate to escape. Unable to connive their way into more time, they had the motive to cut Supervillain from the picture. But then why did they stay and take care of them? Rub their back...brush their hair? Was that all a fake-out so Supervillain wouldn't suspect them later? Had they changed plans when Supervillain resisted the poison? Supervillain hadn't checked their bags, they could have had belladonna mixed in with all those herbal teas they were obsessed with.

But even if that were true Supervillain wanted to hear it from their mouth. They needed to see Villain ok. And once they' had...once they were told the truth, they'd officially let them go. Poison or no poison.

Friend took their pondering silence as an invitation to keep yammering on.

"No one else has anything to gain from hurting you. They're using you. They're after your status. Why can't you see that? You suspect everyone, so why don't you suspect them?"

"Shut up," Supervillain said. They walked straight past Friend and descended the stairs without a second glance. They passed their bedroom in a similar manner. Their outfit from yesterday was rumpled from sleeping in it, but the idea of changing contained too many seconds of wasted time.

"Where are you going?" Friend cried, steps pounding behind them.

Supervillain still didn't turn. They swung open the front door and spoke out to the street, not caring if their ex-love heard it or not.

"To see if my network has seen anything."

Part Six

authors note: Was originally going to scene break and add in Villain's perspective too, but I got tired and wasn't exactly sure how long the scene would play out and I reallllly wanted to put something out today. Sowwy. But the next part with that perspective will be coming very very soon! I've already started writing it.

[coreychick]

Chapter 23: The Reason

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /Romance and Adventure Din X Fem!Reader Insert

Just a reminder, I do not post specific trigger warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you. Read at your own risk.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

A fiery burn flicks under your skin as Pershing pricks your arm with a needle, sending another round of a mysterious purple elixir, coursing through your body. He says it’s just vitamins and rare minerals. Something about that explanation gives you a queasy feeling in your stomach- not that you believe him- likely there’s something more sinister threading its way through your system. Whatever it is, he hasn’t let you miss a dose since you arrived, several weeks ago. 

You don’t fight back anymore. You learned early on, that fighting back gets you the special needle-the one that comes with the blue liquid. The one they stab into your neck, that knocks you out completely. You’d wake up hours later, covered in bruises, your body and muscles aching, with no knowledge of what they did to you while you were out. You hated not knowing. No, it's better to let them poke and prod. At least then, you knew what was happening. The idea of them, having full access to your unconscious body and waking up with no memory of it, was much worse than the alternative. Either way, they are going to do what they are going to do. It seems smarter to stay silent. To observe and learn what you can, to formulate a decent escape plan- cause right now, you’ve got nothing. 

One walk from the brig to Pershing’s lab showed you that the ship you were on was massive. It likely could carry a crew of a thousand, though by all appearances, it’s  running on minimal staff. Small squads of storm troopers, dressed in the same standard issue white plastoid armor as the two you killed, when you first arrived. Crew members of varying rank travel the halls, but there are few enough that you are beginning to recognize faces. 

And then there’s Pershing. Lab Coat , from all those months ago, back on Navarro. He’s clearly intelligent, but lacking in backbone. Mando taught you to assess your opponents at the offset, determine their weaknesses, and so far, Pershing is the only weakness you can detect on this massive flying fortress. 

You’d gone through all of your options at the start. Flee? Where was there to go? Gideon’s ship isn’t likely to make port anytime soon. Crew come and go via shuttle, along with supplies. In fact, this ship probably never stops moving, and one look at Pershing’s fancy ass laboratory tells you that this place might have been the intended destination for your capture all along. Commandeer a smaller transport ship? A memorized ignition sequence for a pre-empire Razor Crest, does not a pilot make. 

But there is something about Pershing that tugs at you. A small, nearly indistinguishable inkling that maybe he doesn’t want to be here either. But yet, he is. And he doesn’t put up a fight when orders are issued. Again, no backbone. Still, he might be your only chance of escape. If you could turn him into an ally, get him to see you as a fellow human being, maybe he can help you escape. 

Sometimes, Pershing is joined by an officer, sent to help him with certain tasks. He wears a gray uniform, sporting a few decorations on his lapel. Zero pleasantries are exchanged between the two giving the already cold laboratory an icy chill. The officer seems perturbed that he has to assist the dorky, big-brain at all, probably ordered away from his normal posting of - who the hell cares- or whatever cool job he thinks is more important.

When he’s in the room, Pershing shuts down, completely ignoring every word you say, operating on auto-pilot, as if you didn’t exist at all- just another squeaking lab rat in the room. Officer Dickhead, on the other hand, has very little patience for your commentary, opinions on how his hat makes his head look like a penis, not excluded. He swipes a syringe full of Big Blue off the metal tray, threatening to give you the big sleep, if you don’t shut your ‘smart mouth’. There’s a victorious gleam in his eye when you acquiesce, that rankles your pride- so you smile back, listing off all his vulnerable spots in your head. Throat, eyes, stomach, kidneys, groin….definitely groin.  

Pershing shifts uncomfortably on his feet, his chin going down so he can avoid eye contact with either one of you. Officer Dickhead , because he’s intimidated, and you, because maybe he’s a little ashamed. When Officer Dickhead leaves, and there’s nobody else in the room, Pershing talks to you, almost like a living being and not some sort of science experiment. 

“I wish you wouldn’t provoke him like that.” he says, scanning your face with a little red light, for the umteenth time.

“I wish you would.” you snap back. 

He lowers his gaze to examine the readouts from his little scanner, jotting notes onto his clipboard. 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. “You don’t seem like the type of person who wants to hurt people.”

“I’m not.” he says, defensively with a visible bob of his throat. “I’m here for the science…and, it’s not as if I have much choice in the matter.”

The opening you’ve been waiting for…

You place your hand on his forearm. His pen stops moving as he stares at your hand.

 “Then let's work together. We can help each other, we can both get out of here.” 

He turns away, leaving your hand to drop at your side.

“Impossible. There is no way out.The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can move on.” 

The utter certainty in his voice is defeating. You want to yell, to scream that he’s a coward, because he won’t even try. Somehow, you manage to hold back. You maintain your cool, reminding yourself that you don’t have the foggiest idea how he ended up here and what he might have lost along the way. You’ll just have to keep chipping away, build up his confidence, and show him that there’s a chance. But the disappointment at his words must be written on your face.

“Please, don’t look at me like that.” he mutters.

You remain silent. 

“You know, things could be much better for you, if you’d only cooperate,” he continues.

Not this again…

For weeks, Pershing has been grilling you on what abilities you have. You decided at the very beginning, not to give anything away. It’s the only card you have to play. They want you because you have abilities, but perhaps if you could convince them otherwise….. they’d what? Pull up to the nearest starport, and drop you off? No, but your survival instincts are telling you not to give them the one thing they want the most from you. So, from day one, you’ve denied, denied, denied. 

“Look, I’ve nearly exhausted the testing I can do, I can’t stall things for much longer. If you don’t give us what we need, Gideon will pry it out of you. Do you understand?”

“Stall? Stall for what? You won’t even tell me why I am here!” you snap back. Well, so much for keeping my cool. 

“Shhhh.” he says, placating you with raised palms. “They’ll send him back in if they think you’re being difficult again- neither of us wants that.”

“I’m not stupid. I’ve heard the guards whispering in the halls. You’re a clone scientist, right?”

He doesn’t answer, just stares back at you through tinted lenses in silence, debating with himself what to tell you.

“So, you intend to what? Clone me? Is that it?”

Again, silence.

“Bold move Pershing, most consider one of me too much to deal with.”

“Not you,” he says, surprising you. You tilt your head in question, giving him the space to answer.

He takes a step toward you, his voice lowering to barely above a whisper. This is it. He’s about to tell you something vital.

“It’s not you we intend to clone….it’s your offspring.”

Your head snaps back with a jolt of confusion, your brain scrambling to make sense of his words.

“I hate to break it to you doc, but I don’t have any offspring.”

“You will.” he says plainly. 

It makes sense now. The daily injections, the sore muscles and cramping. Your eyes skim the room and land on the metal cylinder- a cryofreezer- to the side. You’ve seen Pershing putting little vials in it. 

“You took…my eggs?” you can barely get the words out, disbelief and fear clouding your brain. 

“Yes, we have harvested some eggs, but that’s only as a precaution, if the main stratagem fails.”

Harvest, eggs.  The words make you instantly nauseous. 

“The main stratagem?” Your heart pounds. Maintain! Maintain control! 

“Gideon would prefer to harvest the eggs and dispose of you after you’ve produced a viable subject.” He leans in a little closer. “But I have convinced him that we will have much more success, if we replicate nature’s process as closely as possible.”

Your head is swimming. Nothing makes sense. 

You shake your head. “I don’t understand, what does that mean?”

“You will conceive, carry, and possibly even raise the child as your own, under strict guidance and training of course, but don’t you see? I’ve convinced him that you don’t have to die now. I saved you.”

“Saved me?” Your breathing grows heavier. “You expect me to give up my child to… the empire?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Try not to look at it that way.”

“What way should I look at it?” you say through clenched teeth, your growing anger, duels for dominance over your fear and disgust. 

“We will be responsible for creating the most powerful being this galaxy has ever seen.”

We? You shake your head in defiance. 

“You’re wrong. I’ve told you, I hold no power.”

“We both know that is a lie. I’ve tested your blood, your M-count is significant, you’ve already tapped into an ability that few- if any- have been reported to channel, with no training, and your personal background makes you an ideal vessel.”

What the hell is an M count? What ability is he referring to?” 

“My personal background?” 

“Yes. As far as I can tell, your ability suggests a strength that can be traced back several generations, making you very powerful. Albeit, your source of power is untapped, it is still there. And your station as an orphan is beneficial.” 

Lab rat, indeed. 

“Beneficial? Because nobody will come looking for me?”

“Because you haven't been influenced by outside sources.”

Is he referring to Jedi?

“And what of a father? Have you kidnapped a Jedi male as well, or does Gideon intend to be the sperm donor himself?”

“No. Gideon doesn’t have the ability to wield the force. We have searched high and low for the optimal candidate. Unfortunately, the pool was drastically cut down after eliminating non-compatible species for breeding.”  

“Breeding!? Do you hear yourself? I was wrong about you. You’re sicker than all of them!” You spring from the table, launching yourself at Pershing. You both tumble to the ground as your hands wring his scrawny neck. His plasspecs are knocked askew and despite his lack of mental backbone, he still has enough strength to fight back physically. He pushes one of your hands away, breaking the hold you have on his neck, long enough to shout out for help. Sirens begin wailing as the labroom door opens and heavy footsteps are heard behind you. You pay them no attention, continuing your attempt to strangle every last breath out of him, seeing nothing but red. 

An electric shock blasts you from behind. Your back constricts violently and every muscle in your body goes rigid and the familiar feeling of getting hit by a stun blaster vibrates your bones from the inside out. It feels like being struck by a bolt of lightning, and as the shockwave dissipates, it leaves behind a swarm of bees crawling under your skin. Your arms fall to the side and your body goes slack just as two strong arms catch you from behind. The paralytic effect works instantaneously, and you know from experience that it will be several long minutes before regaining any type of control of your limbs. Officer Dickhead presses his clammy cheek up against yours from behind, forcing your head to the side. 

“That’s it. So much better this way, don’t you think?” he says, dragging your body backward toward the table. 

He maneuvers you up and on top, your arms falling open, heedless to mind the orders you're silently shouting to them. Move! Claw his eyes out! Tear him to pieces! You have no control, your body is helpless to do more than keep breathing and blink. He comes around to the side of the table. A tear slips out of the corner of your eye. Not from fear, but born of pure anger. The violation, the knowledge of what they have already stolen from you…it’s almost too much to bear. 

“You think you’re so smart…so funny.” he says, tracing the path of your tear with the tip of his stun blaster. The barrel is hot from its recent use, leaving a welting line behind. 

“Look at you. Not so funny now, are we? Now..you’re just a pet. Leashed, soon to be broken, domesticated.” His voice lowers, just above a whisper. “I will enjoy watching them break you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of looking into your eyes when he speaks to you. 

The woosh of the labroom door precedes more heavy footfall, and for the first time in several weeks, you hear the unmistakable voice of Moff Gideon. Officer Dickhead’s back straightens, coming to attention and falling silent as his superior addresses the room. Gideon takes in the scene, pausing a few extra seconds on the officer. 

“Dr. Pershing. We have a problem here?”

“No, sir. Everything is under control now.”

“Good. I want a full update. Where do we stand?”

Pershing hesitates a little, but responds in turn. 

“Well, sir. She’s very healthy. All tests indicate she’ll be an ideal carrier.”

“Very good. When do we expect we can proceed to the next step?”

“A few more weeks. She has some type of Moltok herbal concoction in her system- it’s very effective at preventing conception. It’s not something I can remove or that bacta can fix, it simply needs to run its course. However, the levels are dropping everyday. I anticipate it will fully be out of her system in a few weeks.” 

Thank the Maker for Moltok birth control. 

Gideon inhales, clearly disappointed at the hurtle in his timeline. 

“And what of the speculative donors?”

“Well, I’ve narrowed down the donor pool to two potentials. When we exit hyperspace, I will send a summons for them. I will need to bring them both aboard for testing first, to determine which will give us the highest probable success rate.” 

“Which sith are we speaking of?” 

What the hell is a sith?

Pershing looks back down at his clipboard, flipping several papers over. 

“Flint…”

“Flint? Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. His mastery of the force is impressive, he’s quite skilled with the saber and his telekinetic abilities are reported to rival even..”

“Who else?” Gideon interrupts.

Pershing looks back down at his paper, trying to decide whether or not he should continue with the next name.

“Carnor Jax.”

“Ahhh. Carnor Jax.”

“Yes sir.” Pershing confirms.

“If the two prove to be equal to the task, push for Jax. As a former member of the Imperial Royal Guard, his ambitions are more in line with our directive.”

“Understood.” Pershing agrees.

“Anything else?”

Pershing looks at you on the table. You want to scream, to voice your disgust, to threaten, to call out for help- anything, but your vocal cords won’t produce any sound. 

“Yes, sir.” They turn their backs to speak more quietly, but you can still make out the gist of the conversation. 

“Force-wielders grow more powerful over time, the more they use, they practice….. She’s powerful, but I don’t think she comprehends what she is capable of. She denies all of it. Her power…it lies dormant. I fear that if we do not awaken it somehow…. “

“You don’t think the ability will pass on to the offspring?”

“The power- it’s not something I can just extract and inject, we know that now. It’s beyond my ability to just recreate. I’ve seen it in testing the others. When force users wield their powers, their numbers climb. I believe the highest chance of success at passing it on, rests with her… exercising use.”

Gideon considers Pershing’s theory.

“What about Lord Hethrir?”

Pershing looks back through his notes. “Sir?”

“He was enthusiastic about the prospect of donating, even had suggestions for alternative experiments regarding force-sensitives.”

“He is not human. He is Firrerreo.”

“Are they not compatible breeders?”

Breeders? Fucking Breeders….like I’m some fucking broodmare. 

“They’re DNA is near-human. I suppose it is possible, though I’d have to do some research. I’m not aware if the two can successfully reproduce.”

“Don’t rule him out. In addition to his telekinetic abilities, it’s said that he can suppress force potential in others. If he can suppress it, perhaps he can also awaken it.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“Until then…” he says, walking over to the table to stare down at you.

“We’ll take matters into our own hands.”

“Sir?” Pershing asks. 

“Prepare a bacta tank….and secure an IT-O.”

“Join me for a walk.” Gideon says, sometime later when you’ve regained the use of your limbs. Every muscle in your body aches as if you’d just climbed to the peak of the galaxy’s tallest mountain range. 

You follow alongside, listening to the sound of trooper footsteps in perfect synchronization, pounding the floor behind you. Officer Dickhead follows too, several steps back. You keep your eyes forward as they lead you through the halls, on a route you’ve never taken before. By now, you’ve learned the path from brig to lab, having made the trip twice a day, every day since you’ve arrived- but this, this is new. 

You eye the hilt of the weapon Gideon carries at his side, that wicked looking black blade he waved in front of your face when you first met. It’s temping for sure, but your hands are shackled and even if you could snatch it, you have no idea how to wield a sword. Gideon knows this, as he is clearly not worried about leaving it within your arms reach. He’s practically taunting you with it. 

As you round the corner, Gideon punches in a sequence on a large control panel. Behind it, two large double doors retract. He enters a long hall ahead of you. You slowly follow, eyes fixated on the sight before you. The walls are lined with rows of large battle droids. Memories spring forth, of your capture, of the way they seemed invincible in those moments. Their exoskeletons are eerie, even in their deactivated state, docked in their ports, and illuminated by the glow of red light- dark reapers slumbering in upright metal coffins. 

“Impressive, aren’t they?”

You ignore him, trying not to outwardly appear as staggered as you feel. Somehow, over the past weeks, you had failed to consider that the troopers had been here all along. Back on Tython, there were several, maybe four or five that had cornered you at the rock. Here, there must be dozens. 

“A new generation of troopers, superior in every way to the ones that came before. Capable of flight, impervious to blaster fire and flame….heavily armed and with a strength twice that of its predecessor.”

It makes sense to you now, why Moff Gideon’s ship seems to run on minimal staff. A garrison of a few dozen dark troopers probably replaces hundreds of storm troopers. Maker knows they fall like bowling pins. But these….

“Dr. Pershing tells me you’re resolved to remain in denial. I must admit, for the longest time, I couldn’t decide whether you’ve actually convinced yourself, or….”

“Or what?” you finally say back.

“Or if you were simply holding out. Stalling…in hopes of a rescue.” 

You laugh bitterly. “I learned long ago not to waste my time waiting for someone to rescue me.”

“Is that so?”

“And who would rescue me? I thought nothing escaped your notice Gideon? Except that must not be true, because you’ve obviously failed to notice that I don’t have a single friend in this galaxy or any other.”

He smiles and takes a step closer to you. 

“Take a good look at where you are. There is no escape, and as good as your decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, is- he is no match for what you see before you.”

“Why don’t you take a look around? You obviously can’t see what is right in front of your face. I’m not who you think I am.”

“I know exactly who you are.”

“Based on what?!” you snap back. “A little rumor you heard? That story was fabricated by a bunch of nuns, desperate to get a boy adopted before his eighteenth birthday. And it worked like a charm! Did you read the headlines? ‘ Miracle boy walks after life threatening fall, Claims angel saved his life’. And guess what? It wasn’t more than a week before he was adopted by a rich family on Alderaan. Did they tell you that he also soaked in a bacta tank for weeks? Or did the kind, sweet, nuns leave that part out?” 

You see just a flicker of doubt cross Gideon’s eyes, spurring you further. He prides himself on knowing all. Make him doubt everything he thinks he knows.

“And tell me Moff, what happens to your little scientist when he’s gone too long without producing results? I’m willing to bet he’s seen you kill your own men firsthand, for far lesser disappointments.” 

He doesn’t respond.

“All he needed was the fuel of a fairytale. He already has his magical sperm donors anyway, hasn’t he? So now all he has to do is put the two together and as long as the child inherits at least something from the father, you’ll never be the wiser.” 

Gideon remains silent, but you can see the muscle in his jaw ticking. You’ve got him doubting his people, so you press further.

“And if you really think the Mandalorian was in this for anything more than a payday, I’d fact- check the information your officers are feeding you too.” You say, glancing back toward Officer Dickhead. 

“Did they tell you he dragged me all over this galaxy in chains? Looking for the highest bid? Did they tell you how many times I tried to escape? Bastard tried to sell me to Jabba’s successor before putting me up for private auction on Hunter’s World. Would have been one of the greatest cons of all time if they hadn’t caught on to his deceit. If those troopers had peeled that tin can off of his head, I bet the look on his face would have matched yours, the day he stole your cash-cow back from you. So if you happen to see him in passing, please do tell him, I send warm regards of Fuck You. ” 

Gideon twines his fingers behind his back as he begins to pace the hall. 

“Uh oh,” you say looking down the hall again. “Officer Dickhead over there looks a little nervous. Was he the one delivering your intel?” you smile. 

Gideon turns back to pace in the other direction, stopping in front of you. He thrusts his fist into your stomach, causing you to drop to your knees. All the air in your lungs escapes in a choking rush. You cup your stomach with shackled hands, your forehead pressing into the floor. Your lungs burn, your mouth agape as your brain struggles to remember how to inhale. You desperately gasp, choking on nothing, as your lungs refuse to inflate. Your stomach burns, and you feel the veins at your temple threatening to burst as your eyes water. There’s no sound, aside from a few small squeaks that you make in an attempt to find the air. Gloved fingers scrape against your scalp, anchoring themselves into the roots of your hair. Your head is jerked back, forcing your throat up just as you feel the first tinge of air attempting to return. You begin coughing and choking, the air burns equally as bad as it refills your lungs. 

He leans down by your face. “I assure you, I will get what I need from you, one way or another. And if I determine you’ve exhausted your usefulness, don’t expect to live for very long.”

He releases his grip on your hair, allowing your head to fall forward as you continue to wheeze and choke. 

"Sub-lieutenant Rund.”

“Yes, sir.” Officer Dickhead replies. 

“I've heard you acquired a penchant for shock-whips during your time on Zygerria.”

“Yes sir.” Officer Dickhead replies, with just a bit too much excitement in his voice. 

“Do you have one on board?”

“Yes sir, I do.”

“Do you keep up with training?”

“Well,” he hesitates. “It’s been some time…”

“Good. It sounds like you could use a little practice.”

Fear takes up permanent residence deep in your gut, causing your whole body to tremble. You wish you appeared stronger on the outside, not giving them the satisfaction of knowing that you’re scared, but it’s an involuntary reaction when you dangle from magnetic beams in the middle of your cell. They’ve strung you up high enough that your toes skim the floor, but you can’t quite support your weight on them. The result is a terrible strain on your wrist and it feels like your arms are being pulled straight out of the sockets. Officer D relishes in the moment, taking his time to get started, and if you’re being honest, the anticipation of getting struck by a shock whip seems almost as cruel as the actual delivery. If there’s one thing you can be proud of, it’s your absolute resolve not to plead or beg, and so far you’re doing ok on that front. 

His hand slides down, pulling a dark, banded handle from his waistband. He sweeps over the surface with his thumb, triggering a long whipcord to extend several meters, landing on the floor. 

“Anything, before we start?”

He’s baiting you, that much is clear. He wants you to throw fuel on the fire, wants to get a reaction, cause Maker knows he’ll get off on this a lot more. You give him what he wants- not because he prompts you, but because you know he’s going to whip you either way, so you might as well throw one more insult his way while you can. 

“I’m sorry.”

He raises his brows a smidge waiting for it.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s the shape of your hat. It’s totally penis shaped. You see it, right? Like, the whole part up there….it’s just like the tip of a dick.”

He smiles. “There it is.”

He ignites the shockwhip, causing an electric light to vibrate through the cord. It hums and buzzes loudly as he walks toward the door your back faces. Those last few seconds before receiving the first lash are a blur. Your muscles tense waiting for the first contact. The anticipation of pain makes your heart thunder in your chest. You repeat silently in your mind, “Do not beg. Do not beg.” You tell yourself you won’t make any noise at all, but that part unfortunately, is beyond your control. 

The first lash strikes you square across the back. It’s a metal rope snapping you with a streak of liquid fire, followed by a jolt of electricity that makes your back muscles seize. You cry out at the first impact.

The second and third come in quick succession under your left shoulder blade, compounding on the still radiating heat of the first. The fourth strike begins to tear away at your shirt and there’s a new element of agony added when the fabric no longer protects your skin from direct contact. By the eighth lashing, you no longer try to balance on your toes, leaving the entire weight of your body to hang from the shackles above. Officer D is panting loudly, clearly receiving a great workout on his end. It doesn’t escape your notice that he never bothers to ask you any questions or offer you any reprieve in exchange for a surrender to cooperate. 

The stormtrooper watching at the side, runs to the corner and removes his bucket, losing his last meal all over the floor. Officer D yells some obscenities, chastising the trooper's weak stomach and ordering that he be taken away. 

You lose count after that, unable to prevent screaming and crying out with every new strike. Tears soak your cheeks as the sensation of being on fire starts to morph into something along the lines of being flayed by razor blades. Never in your wildest dreams had you even imagined that physical agony like this existed. You had to be on the verge of passing out, and welcome every lash that brings you closer to it. 

You reach a place where you think, “Surely the next one will be the last I feel?”, but continue to repeat it with every lash that follows. That's when you feel the surprising sting of a lash across your buttocks. The previously untouched target, causes fear to surge again. Will he continue until every part of my body has received his whip’s kiss?

The answer comes with another snap across your back, slicing into the already flayed skin. 

No. It was unintentional. An aim and a miss. Perhaps his arm is growing tired? 

You continue to cry, willing your mind to retreat to someplace else. A dark corner in the recesses of your mind. You imagine Mando there and what you’d say to him. 

You’d be proud of me…I didn’t yield.

You did good, baby. I’m real proud. 

You wake from an excruciating sting. It feels like acid dripping on your back. You're face down on a table in Pershing’s lab. 

“Shhh, it’s ok. It’s just me.” he says- as if that is supposed to somehow be comforting. 

You cry out as the pain returns. He’s doing something to your back. You try to sit up and move, but your head swims as your entire body rejects that idea. 

“Stay still. I won’t hurt you.”

“You are hurting me!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop, just be still.”

You do as he says, lying back down, but only because your body won’t allow anything else.

“I’m going to give you an injection, so you won’t feel the next part. It will sting for a few seconds, but then you won’t feel anything at all, ok?” 

“Don’t touch me.” you say, unable to put any semblance of actual threat behind it.

He kneels down next to the table, so that he can look you in the eyes. It’s then that you notice he has some fresh bruising on his cheekbone. 

“You’re hurt- badly. I need to put you in the bacta tank for several days. But, before I can do that, I need to remove some debris from your wounds, otherwise they will close around it and become infected. You understand?” 

“Please don’t knock me out.” you say, ashamed that you actually used the word ‘please’. At least it was only for Pershing’s ears. He looks into your eyes and seems to understand. 

“I won’t let them touch you while you’re under. I promise.”

You stare back at him. You both know that he can ultimately do whatever he wants, but for some reason, he is asking your permission. It pains you, but something in your gut is choosing to believe him. You nod your head yes . 

He delivers his injection and the pain melts away. Your senses dull until you’re only mildly aware of what the doctor is doing. One at a time, using a large pair of forceps, he sets down bloodied and charred ribbons of fabric into a metal tray next to the table. After that, your sight washes over as you're suspended into a pool of jelly. Your consciousness floats in the warm waves as all thoughts of this reality disappear. 

---WEEKS LATER---

“This looks good, much better.” Pershing says as he examines your back. 

“The mending of flesh is truly incredible, though I’m afraid it couldn’t be completely made new. Some of these will be permanent scars, I’m afraid.”

Not really caring, you shrug your thin robe back up over your shoulders. He walks around to face your front as you stare blankly ahead. He scans you with his little doohickey and logs whatever it is, it’s telling him. 

“They tell me you’re not eating though.”

You lift up your hands, giving a little jiggle to the manacles around your wrists. 

“They chain me to the bench in my cell.”

He continues to stare in question. You lift your gaze to meet his.

“They leave the food by the door. It’s out of reach.”

With understanding, he leans in a little, ignoring the trooper standing guard in the room, and whispers. 

“If you were to concentrate, I believe you could move the tray.”

That’s exactly what they want me to do.

“Why doctor, whatever do you mean?” you say, sarcastically. 

Pershing clears his throat, standing a little straighter. 

“You can’t carry on like this.”

“You’re going to have to speak up, doctor. I’m afraid my ears are still ringing.” you say forcefully.

He pulls out a retractable otoscope and looks into your ears. After your three week stint in the bacta tank following the whipping, your cell became a hell of its own. You were barraged with sonic torture- a deafening array of arrhythmic and atonal sounds, with no discernable pattern, blasted out from the walls. Additionally, your cell was bathed in a harsh, white light, adding to the attack on your senses, making it nearly impossible to think, let alone sleep. 

These daily trips to Pershing’s lab had become a welcome reprieve from the continuous torture. It was the only time you had to think. Three weeks, three precious weeks had passed in the bacta tank. That time was vital, and had pushed you ever closer to your looming deadline. 

“How much longer do I have?”

“Not long, two weeks, maybe three.”

Two weeks. You have maybe two weeks to carry out your plan. 

After your meeting with Gideon, many things had become clear. For one, he was right. There really was, in all likelihood, no means of escaping this ship. Two, the new objective was no longer to stay alive. The idea of Gideon taking your eggs, of potentially turning your offspring into some kind of sick spy weapon for the empire, of having little pieces of you scattered all over the galaxy, created with evil intent, was more than you could handle. You can not- will not- allow that to happen. 

Your eyes subtly wander the room, landing on the cryo-freezer off to the side. There’s no doubt in your mind- that is where Pershing stores the vials of everything he takes from you. Blood, eggs, and Maker knows what else. You need to destroy it, to eliminate any possibility of that happening. And thirdly, after destroying his treasure trove of stolen biological material, you needed to also destroy his source. Me. 

The only way to ensure Gideon wouldn’t be able to carry out his ambition was to remove yourself from the equation entirely. No Vessel means no offspring. And since escape was moot, that meant death was the only viable solution. And you refuse to view it as giving up. It was a means to an end and the only way to stop what was coming. The question was now, how to do it. You’d have to do it in such a way, that the bacta tank wouldn’t be able to heal you and the IT-O wouldn’t be able to revive you. Ironically, you had Officer D to thank for that bit of enlightenment. 

After you had come out of the tank, you had noticed that Officer D had been curiously absent from his normal post. When asked where his bestie had gone, Dr. Pershing had replied, “Gone. Disciplined for disobeying orders.”

“What orders?”

“Not to kill you.”

“‘S’cuse me?”

“He had direct orders to beat you within an inch of your life, but not to actually kill you. He failed. Apparently, the IT-O had warned him that your life functions were close to ceasing, however he continued to whip you beyond the warning- something about being goaded by your remarks. In any event, he went too far, and the IT-O had to administer lifesaving procedures to bring you back.”

Now you know that however you decide to end it, it needs to be done in a way that prevents them from resuscitating you. Some type of explosion would be ideal. That would eliminate any lasting biological material as well as destroy the cryo-freezer, with the added bonus of ending things quickly and painlessly. The problem was, you had no idea how to construct an explosive. Every time you enter the lab, you silently take stock of the equipment and available chemicals around, but most inconveniently, nothing around you is glaringly labeled as “flammable”. 

That left you with a half solid backup plan. You’d been watching Pershing closely over the last few weeks. You know exactly where he stores the syringes of paralytic drugs. If you could get him to agree to remove the binders on your wrists, you’re certain you could get to them quickly. If you incapacitate him and the one guard, you should be able to get to them in time. You could inject the paralytic straight into your heart. Done and done. You’re no doctor, but you’re willing to be that there would be no recovering from that. Yes, it would still leave your body behind, but….beggars, choosers. 

The days that follow are a blur, a constant and ever-changing gamut of varying torture, ranging from sleep deprivation to hallucinogens administered via the interrogator droid. The nightmares that play out in your head are a mix of dreams and excruciating pain. When it's over, you are little more than a blubbering puddle on the floor, your heart exhausted from racing against the drugs, and your lungs are devastated from all of the screaming. Again, no questions are asked, no prompts for submission are given. It seems they are content to poke and prod, hoping they will eventually elicit you to fight back using a power you have no idea how to wield. And to make it worse, they refuse to let you die. 

You receive a glorious reprieve of peace and silence after one particularly nasty bout. That’s how they seem to like to deliver it- they give you just enough time to recover before starting the process all over again. This time, your cell is quiet and dark, albeit cold. You’re used to the dark, it doesn’t frighten you like it used to. You close your eyes and try to get back to that place on top of the rock- the place your voice could be heard across the stars and where the universe spoke back. You call out for Luke, or anyone else listening, but only silence answers back. Whatever magic mojo that rock possessed, it kept it to itself. 

You think about Mando and how grateful you are that he must have survived. Gideon would have used that against you otherwise. Your heart hurts when you think of how he must have felt. You hope he isn’t driving himself completely mad with guilt, because you know he will be blaming himself. His sense of duty is too strong. 

Please don’t hate me for what I must do. Please don’t hate yourself either. 

Warm tears roll down your cheeks as you lay on the bench, using your arm as a pillow. It’s freezing cold with your naked body laying on the metal- they had taken your clothes away for added humiliation. Pushing those dark thoughts away, you escape to a safer place. You imagine this cold cell is the dark hull of the Crest. You’re curled up in Din’s arms, soaking up the warmth of his body. You imagine the way his skin smells, the way the timbre of his voice soothes your being. The way the soft scruff on his cheek tickles the smoothness of yours. 

Please, forgive me.

Forgiven.

Tell me you’ll find me again, in the next life. 

I will always find you. 

You take solace in his words, even though they are an illusion of your own making. The trance is shattered when the sound of your cell door opens. 

Please, not now. Just a few more minutes. 

You remain still, feigning sleep, with your back to the door as you face the wall. The bright overhead lights roll on and you squeeze your eyes tighter, trying to chase after the dream.

  This might be the cruelest torture of them all. 

The sound of several feet entering the room extinguishes any lingering attempt, and curiosity causes you to peek over your shoulder. You’re taken aback, and fear quickly plummets to the pit of your stomach. Dr. Pershing stands off to the side as two very large men approach you. You quickly sit up, remembering a second too late that your currently sans clothes. You cross your legs, one over the other and hug your chest in an attempt to cover your most intimate places from view. 

The male on the left must be six and a half feet tall. He’s covered head to toe in black and red leather armor, with a heavy looking black cape that reaches the floor. His chest is broader than any humanoid species you’ve seen before. The overall appearance is menacing, but it’s his face covering that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a triangular black visor with an exaggerated oblong shape, flanked by a red cowl. At his back, he wears a double edged vibroblade that you’re willing to bet would be taller than you if placed side by side. 

You try to school your reaction and not give anything away, but the rise and fall of your chest likely hints at your shaken nerves. The man on his right is nearly as tall, despite the fact that he doesn’t wear a mask. He’s human by appearances, with light skin, black hair and piercing blue eyes that seem to look straight through you. He wears a long black cape across his shoulders and silver metal armor, though you can tell by the sheen that it isn’t made from beskar. You’d put his age at about forty and would consider him handsome if it weren’t for the disapproving lines etched on his brow. 

They stop at arm's length and stare down at you. You stare right back, though you can’t seem to conjure any words to speak. 

“What is this Dr. Pershing?” the human male says. “I was told that the vessel was a volunteer - a willing participant in this trial.”

“You’re early. Moff Gideon wasn’t expec-” 

The man cuts Pershing off, with a lift of his hand.

“Where are her clothes?” 

Nobody in the room answers.

“Bring her some clothes.” he squats down to bring himself at eye level. He schools his expression to be a slight gentler as he looks at your face. You feel the slightest brush of awareness in your mind. 

“When's the last time you ate?”

You remain silent, willing yourself not to crumble at the first sign of decency aimed in your direction. This is your enemy. 

“Days?” he persists, looking into your eyes. 

Either he reads your mind, or your silence is confirmation enough. 

“Bring her something to eat.” he commands. 

“What else do you need?”

It’s tempting to refuse. You’re perfectly aware that this may be a case of good guy, bad guy, designed to obtain your trust by way of his sympathies. You promise yourself that this is not a case of rapid stockholm syndrome, and that you might as well take advantage of the gifts. If they think it will warm you to their cause, they are gravely mistaken. 

“Water. A shower. A blanket.... a blaster if you’re feeling particularly generous.”

He looks over his shoulder and nods to the nearest storm trooper, who then rushes out of the room. 

He stands up, returning to his full height once again. 

“I apologize for your treatment. Had I known, I would have come earlier…. They should be treating you like a Queen.”

Your body begins to tremble. The trooper returns, handing you a stack of clothes and the boots you had come in with. You accept it with one hand, keeping your free arm securely pinned across your chest. A few seconds later, another trooper enters the room with a tray of food and water and a blanket under his arm. The unmasked man takes the blanket as the trooper sets the tray beside you on the bench and steps away. The man opens the blanket, whirling it over your head to wrap around your shoulders. You grab the inside corners and pull it closed, tightly around you. 

He turns to speak to Pershing directly. “I want to speak to Gideon now. Take me to the Dark Troopers, have him meet me there.”

Pershing nods to the troopers to follow his instructions and the unmasked man follows them out of the room. 

The masked man however, remains in his position, continuing to stare down at you. Pershing, noticing this, hesitates to leave. 

“Tell me doctor,”  his modulated voice is dark, sending a jolt of fear through your bones. “Why you would have me waste my spend in a cup, when I could have come down here and finished the job?”

“As I said before, I need to run some tests-”

“Waste of time, I can tell you right now, my seed will take root. In fact, I’d be willing to try again…” You begin to shake, your body and mind freezing. What to do?

You squeeze the blanket tighter. 

“That won’t be necessary, she isn’t fertile yet.”

“Hhhhu.” he groans. “Soon, then.” and turns to leave the chamber.

Pershing lingers back after the others have left the room. He kneels by your side placing a hand at your knee. You quickly pull away, revolted by his touch. You shake harder than before, even though the immediate danger has left the room. 

Pershing sighs, “I’m sorry.” 

You don’t bother responding, his apology is worthless.

“When the time comes, I can sedate you…if you want?”

“Sedate me? For my rape, you mean?” you say, boring a hole straight between his plasspecs. “How altruistic of you.”

Pershing leaves the room, a look of shame on his face. 

When the doors close, the manacles at your wrist pop open and a stream of hot water begins to flow from the ceiling in the corner, over a floor drain. Before you step under the stream and enjoy the first shower you’ve had in Maker knows how long, you wonder to yourself, which one was Flint, and which one was Jax?  

Today is the day. I can’t put it off any longer. 

After the visit from the “potential donors”, the torture sessions stopped. Like clockwork, food is delivered, and the shower comes on once a day. They may not have provided the requested blaster or upgraded you to first class accommodations, but they have left you blissfully alone. You wonder if it’s all part of the program, meant to make you trust the unmasked man? More than likely it’s just an indication that the sands in the hourglass have almost run out. Surely they want you in tip-top shape to conceive this hell-spawn prodigy for them. You’re thankful for the calm. It’s given you time to make peace with your decision. 

Today is the day. 

-In the hall outside your cell, Dr. Pershing consults with Moff Gideon- 

“She’s dying.”

“You said she’s fully recovered from the last session. That was a week ago.”

“She has. It’s more than that. Her systems are slowing down, we’re losing her.”

“How can that be, Dr. Pershing?”

Pershing takes a deep breath. “I believe she’s lost the will to live. It’s the only explanation. I’ve heard stories of such things, dying from a broken heart for example…. it’s not something I’ve seen before, but I believe that is what’s happening. She is the one controlling it.”

“What can you do?”

“Nothing. This is beyond science.” 

“There must be something?”

“Nothing. I don’t expect her to make it to the window of opportunity. Unless you can give her hope- a reason to live. This will all have been for nothing.”

This is it. You expect your escorts to walk through the door, having come to make the daily journey to Pershing’s office, where you’ll finish this once and for all.

You’re surprised then, when Moff Gideon enters the room instead. His palm rests on the hilt of the sword, sheathed at his side. This is an unexpected visit, which is never a good thing.

Please don’t let it be too late .

It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him in person- not since that day he introduced you to the garrison of dark troopers. Gideon prefers to keep his hands clean, lets his posse of underlings carry out the dirty work for him. That’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy watching. You’d felt his eyes on you more than once, even if it was through a lens or a one-way mirror.

“I must admit,” he says, strolling into the room. “I didn’t expect you to hold out this much resistance. A brutal whipping, sonic bombardment, sleep, food and air deprivation…” he begins listing off. “And all the while, never using the force to defend yourself. You truly are as stubborn as they come.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Have you ever heard of a memory walk?” he asks. 

Taking your silence as a ‘no’, he continues. “Imagine, having the power to see into someone’s mind, to project your own thoughts as well.” Gideon begins to pace the room while you listen. 

“You could bring a dying man peace, by showing him his loved ones waiting for him in the ether…or, you could bring your enemy to their knees, force them to relive their greatest horrors over and over. Everything from their most embarrassing moments to facing their darkest fears. And all without having to lift a finger. Can you imagine what that power must be like?”

You consider it a moment. “There was that time I got my period in front of everyone, oh…and that one night stand with Dash Obrin- highly regrettable. I definitely would not want to relive that again.” 

“You use your sense of humor as a shield. Imagine instead, if you had the ability to quite literally shield yourself. You have assets in reserve that you aren’t even aware of.”

You hate that he calls you out on it, reads the situation so clearly. 

“Yeah, well…joke ‘em if they can’t take a fuck.”

Gideon inhales for patience. “You’re squandering what you have been given. But we have the means, the resources to teach you how to wield them.”

“Resources? You mean like that masked barbarian in the leather onesie? No thank you.”

“If you would take a moment, I encourage you to let go of that pride, you might be able to see things differently- see the opportunity that lies before you.”

“Opportunity? Only you would view an unconscionable violation of this magnitude, as an opportunity.” 

“You have a gift. You are capable of power, few in this galaxy will ever understand.”

“I see.” You snort, a mocking sound of indifference. “It’s so clear now, you’re jealous.”

Gideon stops his pacing, turning to stare down at you.

“They have a power you’ll spend the rest of your miserable life pining for. No matter what you do, no matter how many lives you take, or civilizations you destroy, you’ll still never be as powerful as them.” Hoping to strike every nerve in his body, you continue. “And if you can’t have it, you’ll, what? Find a way to control it in someone else? You’ll never have the power they have.” 

His jaw begins to tick, his anger showing by the twitch of his mustache. You definitely found the weakness in his armor- his pride. 

“You tell me, who’s in control here? You’re the one in shackles.” Maker, his voice is grading. Every word out of his mouth comes out sounding like a lecture. He’s trying to goad you, to get you to lose your temper. And it’s working. 

“Let’s face facts, your little torture sessions proved nothing, I’ve given you nothing.” you say, mocking his failure.

“You’ve given me everything!” He snaps back. “All these weeks, enduring the pain and suffering…I’ve never seen anything like it. Most break within the first few hours, but you…” he shakes his head, “Not you. You must be very powerful indeed. Imagine what you’ll be capable of when you stop holding back and embrace the power before you.”

Your heart begins to race at the implication. Is it possible that everything you went through was in vain? “No.” You shake your head. 

“Did you not know? That your numbers climbed after every grueling session? You may not have fought back, but you were using the force to keep yourself alive.” 

“That’s not true, that can’t be true.” All this time, it was for nothing.

“Lying to you, does nothing to serve me. You on the other hand…you are very convincing.”

Your hand begins to tremble. 

Just tell him what he wants to hear, tell him whatever it takes to get you into Pershing’s lab, so that you can end this game once and for all. 

“Fuck you. I don’t care what you believe.” 

“If it’s any consolation, you almost had me convinced….Not about the force. I knew that was just desperation on your part.”

He smiles, with all the arrogance of someone who holds an ace in their pocket. He tosses you a small object. Out of instinct, you raise your cuffed hands to catch it midair. Opening your palm, you see a small handheld holoprojector. 

“What’s this?”

Gideon turns to leave, his cape swirling around his feet dramatically. 

“A reason to live.” he says, before the door closes. 

Once you’re alone again, you find the courage to activate the device. A clear holo projection of Mando, in full beskar armor, alive, and well, and strong, stares back at you. His voice, resolute and intent, threatens a promised retribution, as he recites back words, once delivered to him. 

Moff Gideon, 

You have something I want.

You may think you have some idea what you are in possession of, but you do not.

Soon, she will be back with me. 

She means more to me than you will ever know. 

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A/N: As always, kudus, hearts, reblogs and comments are much appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Inspired soundtrack in my head this chapter: The Mandalorian || Flesh and Bone - YouTube

Faithful Readers: @mandosmistress @mandomover @yeetusfeetus3000 @wildmoonflower @littlemisspascal @starwars-thirst @spideysimpossiblegirl @mominousrex @toobsessedsstuff @pickledbeskar @brunette-overalls

Taglist Request

[quinloki]

Ramble ramble

Just 1000 words of a possible opener to a self-insert isekai Marco/sona story.

I might change the perspective, but I like the idea of an omnipotent 2nd person that’s just mostly focused on the OC’s point of view. (I also don’t want to start writing first person and screw up mid-work on all my reader inserts, so here we are xD )

Their name will be Quill, and their hair is white, because I like that look and so I’mma use it.

I didn’t edit a damn thing, this is just me distracting myself so read at your own peril. Fully safe for work (for now).

Your head hurts and your body’s sore, and none of it makes sense. You shouldn’t feel anything - you died.

You remember dying, spending the last few moments in a hospital bed, the steady beeping of the monitors slowing. Your body gave way to the march of time and that’s all there was to it.

It was a good life, a long one full of people and laughter and good times. Some of it hurt terribly, and some of it you could’ve done without, but against the odds you had lived.

Right up until you had died.

You had.

You were so sure of it.

Soundlessly you opened your eyes and looked around carefully. The room was bright with sunlight, wooden and smelling of disinfectant and salt. The subtle scent of oak or maple tickled the back of your brain and the design of what you could see looked uncomfortably familiar.

You were too disoriented to really hone in on what it was, but your entire thought process snapped to a halt when you realized that you had shifted.

Not because you moved, but because the room had.

The subtle sway took a long moment to happen again and with a terrible sinking feeling you realized you were on a ship.

The salty smell was ocean air.

The boat was wood, you imagined, since the room was, and you turned your head to get a better look.

Despite the crisp clean scent there was no electricity in this room. Aside from that it looked like a well stocked recovery room. Not a place you’d want to have open heart surgery in, but you’d be sure a broken bone could be set at least.

Wincing against the soreness in your limbs you sit up. Nothing hurt in an alarming way, and you weren’t dizzy. Groggy, maybe, you could probably still nap a little longer, but you’d thought your sleep was to be of the eternal variety and now your curiosity was stoked about your situation.

You were in a simple linen shirt and pants. You looked over your body and came to realize you weren’t in your body.

If this was your body, you didn’t have any memory of it. You were short, muscled, missing scars and other marks you knew you had. Your skin was tan, and your hair was almost shockingly white.

You ran the strands between your fingers, marveling at it a little. You were most certainly not in your body. Eighty plus years of life had left its marks deep in your skin and soul, but this body was new.

New bodies healed a lot faster, and you swung your legs off the side of the bed, or the exam table turned bed, and hopped down onto the floor.

You could feel the slow tilt of the ship more now that you were standing but it wasn’t making you queasy. That was a welcome sign. Whatever body you’d been dumped into you weren’t in some poor schmuck that got seasick.

You looked around the room, looking through drawers and opening cabinets. You didn’t move anything or take anything, it seemed wrong to just wander out of the room too, so you did your best to stay put.

Bandages, medicines, syringes, sutures, tools for doing wellness checks. It was a fairly typical setup. If not for the lack of electricity you’d almost think you were on a cruise ship.

You didn’t know, technically, who you were, or where you were. But your current body was intact and you weren’t restrained, nor were you surrounded by blood and bodies and bars, so you felt pretty relaxed. You were on edge a little, wondering when the door was going to open, but you had been left on your own long enough to sate your curiosity and climb back onto the exam bed table thing.

You decided to look out the window and realized you had a decent view of the deck, or the small bit of it that ran down the side of the ship. You couldn’t be more than a storey up from it.

You noticed someone approaching and felt the blood drain from your face. The man was massive, not just 7’ or something but eye level with your window vantage point. He had to be over twelve feet tall easily. It was an impossible height, and despite the obviously kind smile on his face as he noticed you, you fell back into the room and slammed the shutters closed, nearly falling off the makeshift bed in alarm.

Your mind reeled at the possibilities, but you weren’t left to your thoughts for long before there was a knock at the door. You tried to say “come in”, but no sound left your mouth.

The air passed your lips, but you couldn’t make a peep. Panic rose up in your throat, had you ever been able to talk? Was this body mute? Would you be able to communicate in this world? What if you couldn’t write? What if none of this was real and you were dreaming the last few moments before your brain died?

Were you still actually dead? You felt so full of life you didn’t want to die, not again, not yet! This wasn’t a dream it was too detailed, too coherent, it had to be real! It had to be and -.

The door opened and you collapse to the floor heaving in big gulps of air as the rising panic and fear over takes you entirely.

Someone kneels down near you, a calming tone, a soothing timber. You like the sound, something is familiar in it, but you can’t make out the words. He shouts for someone, turned away from you for a moment before you hear that even tone turned toward you again.

Large firm hands grip your shoulders and pull you up. You can’t believe what your eyes are seeing but the extra information is enough. You can’t take anymore and hurl onto one strappy sandaled foot before passing out.

[what-if-nct]

Hiii!

Just disguisting isn't a boys book at all. It also isnt a girls book. Its a no one will ever like it book. It's so disguisting. Literally. There's a paragraph about

(TW GORE!)

When your playing with a knife and accidently cutting your own belly and your guts falling out. Then your dog enters the room and eats the guts, puking and eating it again. Then it poops and runs away. You can only watch with your mouth open and a fly flies into your mouth. It startles you so much you accidently swallow the fly. You look up and a bird poops in your eyes. You walk around, blind, and step in the poop of your dog. You slip and fall in a bath full of pus and maggots. You try pulling out the stop (if thats the word) to not drown but accidently pull out the hair thats in the stop. In there, there's a halfgrown babychicken with a little mutant body and says "Mama... mama...". You find it so disguisting that you say '#@!#@%$!' (funfact: its the most disguisting word ever) but you forgot your head explodes when you say that. So your head explodes and your tongue ends up in the toilet and your eyes in a spider web and the spider makes them liquid (funfact: spiders have stuff in their stomach that makes things liquid). But its a good thing because your parents enter the room dancing and cuddling and they ask 'whos body is this?' and start eating it because it weren't actually your parents- it are flesheating zombies and they start eating your body. Then a huge snail enters the room and starts doing a striptease, which you cant see, but you can feel it. Then your gutless, headless, halfeaten body runs out of the house to a road with lots of cars, yelling: "HELP! MY PARENTS ARE FLESHEATING ZOMBIES AND THERES A SNAIL DOING A STRIPTEASE!!!" But nobody listens because no sane anyone would ever stop for a gutless, headless, halfeaten body; they all just run over over over and over you until your just a disguisting red stain on the road. Read: mostly red, exept the pus and the white little pieces which are the maggots.

-sneeze

ps IM SORRY IM SORRY LMAOAO

Dear goodness that is not a book for anyone, what the heck did I just read ewwww, actually my sister might like it. it kinda reminds me of this thing I remember seeing as a kid. It was like an easy bake oven for gross things, like worms, maggots, and vomit it was called the queasy bake oven and you baked like worm cakes and dog vomit. Things like that. That's why as a kid I considered it a boy book cause the queasy bake oven was geared toward boys. But my sister actually wanted it. But we just got easy bake ovens again, we got easy bake ovens twice. Well I got one three times. I still have the third one, And yeah we had to get doubles of the same toy cause we didn't know how to share. One christmas we got one easy bake oven each and one snoopy snow cone machine each, we couldn't share it was a good thing she was more baby dolls and I was more barbie. I hated baby dolls. She also liked sports and bikes and skate boards. And I liked barbies, Britney spears and journals. However we both did religiously watch Bring It On, we had the VHS and DVD, that is not a movie for children now that I think about it. We were also somehow allowed to watch Players Club cause our family rented the vhs from block buster and the vhs player was in our playroom. That movie is about strippers, why was no one watching us?

[wolviecat]

On the way home - Wolviecat - Andor (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Day 24 of the Febuwhump, prompt "Bloodied clothes".

“Your commuter’s ID, please.”

Cassian blinked, trying to make sense of the words through the roar of blood in his ears. The guard was standing in front of him, waiting. “What?” he finally managed to say. Not the best reaction, but he wasn't sure he would manage to keep his voice steady on anything longer.

“Your commuter’s ID, or the work license from the scrap yard.” The guard frowned, clearly frustrated with Cassian, and tapped the read-out on his scanner for emphasis: “this is a reduced-fare ticket, you need an ID.”

“O-of course, just…” he started digging through his bag, mentally cursing himself for not checking with the cashier and buying the ticket from the automated kiosk. He was just trying to limit the number of people he talked to, and who could spot the growing red stain on his stomach. Meeting with an informant went a bit south, knives came into play, and Cassian ended up with a stab wound. He bandaged it as well as he could, but it was still bleeding even now, and the fuzzy feeling in his head was telling him it got infected. He needed to get into the safe house, to a staple gun and antibiotics, as soon as possible.

“Sir…”

He tightened his fingers around the grip of his blaster. He could just shoot the guard through the bag. But then what? Put the gun to the pilot’s head and force her to take him where they are already going, taking the whole ferry hostage? Or pry the door open and jump, hoping that he wouldn’t be immediately arrested or that he wouldn’t rip his insides open and bleed out next to a savage treatment plant.

So he smiled and tried to be charming, even if he felt sick and shaky. “It looks like I forgot my ID at home. Do you think you can let it slide this time?”

The guard’s blank stare told him clearly enough his charm could not help him now. He signed, rummaging his pocket for that couple of credits he’d got left. No credit chips - while it is much easier to make up digital money, they are also much easier to track. “Okay,” he said, trying to mask his worry as annoyance: “how much…”

“No.”  

Cassian could feel sweat beading on his temples. It used to work like that when Cassian was younger, and the guards only got angry when they knew you did it on purpose.

“No?” 

“I cannot take money from you.” With a few taps on the keypad, he opened a blank form: “I’m going to issue you a payment slip and  you will pay the difference plus processing fee at the office. ID, please.”

The picture on the card didn’t look at all like teenage Cassian - lanky hair and hopeful smile - but it looked like Torm Bellos, Correlian metallurgy engineer five standard years Cassian’s senior, and his current alter ego. He held out his arm to pass the card to the guard, but it pulled on his wound, making him hiss in pain.

“Everything’s alright, sir?”

Cassian nodded. “Yes, just…” he curled his arm around his stomach: “I’d got some sourfry at the station and it didn’t sit well with me.” He hoped that the guard would be too queasy to ask him more. He hoped that he would just believe Cassian is some new guy who doesn't know the food stand in question would be long closed down if the Public Health Office ever did its job. And he hoped that the ID would actually work. Otherwise, his career in the Rebellion could be cut short by some ISB drop-out who didn’t even carry a weapon.

The scanner beeped a few times before spitting out a strip of flimsy. The guard tore away a half of it and gave it to Cassian, stuffing the other half into the scanner’s case. “The office is right next to the landing pad.” With that, he turned away, to the next passenger.

Cassian stared after him for a second, still not completely sure what had happened and if it wasn't just a figment of his fevered mind. But the guard was still there, berating someone for eating onboard, and the flimsy strip laid curled on top of his bag. 

He rested his burning brow on the window and closed his eyes. He had a half an hour before they were going to land - enough time to gather some strength to walk to the safe house.

After paying for the ticket, of course.

[prettylittlelyres]

2022: My Year in Writing

Happy New Year, friends! I’ve been quiet again, but here’s my yearly round-up. Hopefully I’ll be more active in 2023! Without further ado:

What did I manage?

I wrote just over 168,500 words in 2022. It’s felt like a slow year for my writing, but that’s equivalent to 3 novels… so I’m pleased! I started the year wanting to write 500 words per day, and I managed an average of 462. In the spirit of being kind to myself, and celebrating achievements, I’ll consider that a target hit.

I wanted to read 50 books last year, but ended up reading 45. At first, comparing my 2022 reading record with its 2021 counterpart, I was disappointed, but then I thought about what I’d read in 2022, and realised I could remember more about the stories. Looking at my 2021 list, most of the books on there now come as a surprise. If I reading them at all, I can’t remember what they were about. More of 2022’s list is familiar, which may just be the recency effect, but I think reading more slowly has let me read more deeply. It’s hard to find time to read these days, but I do love it, so I’ve found ten or twenty minutes here and there to enjoy a tasty bite of story.

I’ve taken part in #PitMad several times, and was looking forward to future events, but it was discontinued after December 2021. I had to look for other pitching events. On 23rd June, I tweeted my pitch for “Vogeltje” at #PitchDis (a pitching event for stories by Disabled authors), and got a “like” from an agent. During Twitter pitch events, literary agents use the “like” button to express interest in pitches, as invitations to send them queries. I didn’t get a response to the query I sent, but in the meantime I’ve put querying on hold while I redraft, so that’s probably a good thing. I love the atmosphere of Twitter pitch events, and I’m looking forward to being able to take part in more!

What did I start?

I wanted to write more short-form work in 2022, so I started responding to other people’s writing prompts, and even making a few of my own. That led to five completed short stories (and even more that I planned or started but which never made it past bullet points in my notebook), and seven whole poems! I hardly ever wrote poetry before 2022, and seven isn’t a huge number, but it’s more poems than I wrote in 2023, and writing four in June alone pleased me so much.

Some of the short stories that I wrote last year have made it onto this blog, but I want to redraft others, and have a go at some of the ideas I sketched out in my notebook. I started it in May, and it’s just-over half-full of drafts and spider-diagrams planning responses to various prompts I’ve created and collected over the year. I can’t decide if I’ll start a new notebook for 2023, or if I’ll carry on working in my 2022 notebook until it’s full.

In amongst the short stories and poems that I scribbled into that notebook are bits of plans for other projects: three longer pieces that I’ve been working on this year which are probably going to end up as novels, but which are still far from finished. I’m hoping to finish drafting one of them in January, but I’m not ready to talk about it on here just yet. It’s still very early days!

What did I finish?

I finished redrafting “Vogeltje” on 1st February, at about 3am. I was still doing shift work then, so it wasn’t unusual for me to be awake so late, but now – feeling sluggish and queasy because I stayed up until 1:30am for New Year’s Eve – I wonder how I did it. These days, I can just about manage 2am, but I’m not up to writing anything coherent by then! So, not only did I finish a draft this year, I also finished my youthful years, when I could stay up late and not SufferTM.

There were drafts I didn’t finish. At the time, I felt bad about them – wondering why I couldn’t just motivate myself to complete a story like I apparently used to be able to – but now I can see that I did the right thing in stopping. I’ve learned to recognise when I need to stop, instead of slogging on to finish something I’m enjoying! I understand myself and what I want to write a lot better in January 2023 than I did in January 2022, and that’s because of all the stories I’ve abandoned.

Although it’s unrelated to writing, I’m pleased to say I’ve also completed the challenge I tentatively set myself at the beginning of the year: 300 days of clarinet practice! I’m so proud of how far I’ve come and I’m glad I recorded it all, so I can hear (and see) the improvements I’ve made. Now I feel like a proper musician again, and feel better in general. I think I’m standing up straighter, breathing more deeply, and even typing more quickly. My sight-reading has also improved a lot, and I’m finally, at 24, starting to figure out embouchure (only took me 14 years, but a win is a win).

I also had my graduation ceremony at last. I finished my degree in 2021, but graduation was postponed until 2022 because of COVID-19. It was wonderful crossing the stage with my best friends, and seeing my favourite lecturers again. (And I look absolutely delightful in my graduation photos!)

What did I do?

I put far too much pressure on myself in 2022.

I told myself I needed to write a huge amount, and finish a massive pile of projects, in a year when I was also trying to brush up another hobby, and when I changed from shift work to a 9-5 pattern and suddenly had a much more regimented schedule. Too much.

I wrote over 339,000 in 2021, probably more than I’ve written in any other year of my life, and I wanted to write just as much in 2022. I didn’t think about the fact that I was still at university for the first five months of 2021, and frequently had to write long essays and extensive notes alongside my own writing, which went very well. I work well under pressure, but only if someone else is putting it on! My brain doesn’t pay attention to deadlines I set myself because I can move them; as long as I’m in charge of what I write and when, I don’t write much at all.

2020 and 2019 were also really good years for my writing – I wrote 210,000 words in 2020, and a similar amount in 2019, although I don’t know exactly – and I expected myself to be just as prolific in 2022, but that wasn’t sensible. I was extremely lucky, three years running, to have my brain click and let me write so much, and it’s not a reflection on me that 2022 wasn’t like that. It was just an unlucky year, and I’m starting to realise that now. 2023 might be a lucky year, or it might not. It doesn’t matter how much I write, as long as I enjoy it.

How do I feel?

Honestly, I feel a little silly. I tried to overdo things and while I’m feeling healthier now than I’ve ever felt in my life, I’ve only been doing this well since October. Before that, I was floundering, and I need to remind myself of that any time I’m tempted to look at 2022 as a bit of a rubbish year. Yes, it was… but I had a bit of a rubbish time!

I didn’t finish “2021: My Year in Writing”, but I still have the bit I drafted. I gave up trying to get it all down because there was so much to talk about, and that gave me unrealistic expectations for 2022. “This year, I will write just as much as last year,” I thought to myself, not considering the context in which I wrote so much. I should have re-read the partial draft a few times this year, because, looking back at it now, there’s a few things that really jump out at me, particularly what I wrote in April:

“I rather set myself up for disappointment in April, hoping I would achieve the same amount of work as I had done the month before. There was a weekly translation for French and German, a weekly psycholinguistics reading to note down, and seminars to prepare for “German-Jewish Writing Across the Twentieth Century”. I had nearly all my weekly lectures on a single day, with barely a moment to grab a fresh cup of tea in-between them, and started to struggle with my energy levels. Sometimes, I couldn’t make it to class because I was so tired that I couldn’t sit up for an hour at a time. The rest of the week was spent trying to catch up on work I’d missed without falling behind on prep for the next week. Nevertheless, I managed to add a few scenes to “Violins and Violets”. I ended up with a 19,900-word total for the month. Couldn’t quite make those last 100 words happen… Couldn’t help being a bit disappointed in my achievements, which I knew was an unhealthy attitude, so I tried to be kinder to myself the next month.”

In hindsight, I was working so hard that I was making myself unwell. In hindsight, I knew a long time ago that I needed to be kinder to myself, and to stop setting myself up for disappointment by aiming for goals I just couldn’t achieve.

Somehow, I thought it would be a good idea to spend most of 2022 forgetting all that.

I can’t help but notice similarities between how I apparently felt in April 2021 and how I felt for most of 2022. I feel a lot better now, but I’ve been so tired this year that I’ve… managed to forget how tired I’ve been.

I’m not disappointed in myself. I just want to laugh. And then move on.

What am I looking forward to in 2023?

I’ve decided to set myself soft goals this year:

- write things I enjoy;

- put less pressure on myself;

- pause or quit projects I don’t like.

What happens happens. What I achieve, I achieve. I would quite like to be a professional writer one day, but I have to remember that I am not one at the moment. I don’t need to meet deadlines, I don’t need to write a certain number of words per day, and I don’t need to finish a certain number of books every year.

I just need to like writing.

In 2023, I want to engage more with writeblr and my local writing community (I’m part of my local NaNoWriMo group on Facebook) and participate more in the Discord server I’m in. It’s lovely having friends in other writers, and feeling like part of something. I took a writing course at the beginning of 2022, and I hope I’ll find another one (or a repeat!) this year. I loved the camaraderie of last year’s lessons, and how friendly and encouraging everyone was.

I want to read more slowly, more carefully, and more thoughtfully this year. I think I’ve benefited from reading a little less in 2022. Stephen King said, “If you don’t have the time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write,” and he was correct. I’ve let myself spend more time on each book I’ve read this year, and I’ve enjoyed everything more as a result. Hopefully in 2023, I’ll read a few more craft books, and improve my writing like I’ve improved my clarinet.

I hope all of you have a lovely new year, and I’m looking forward to reaching out a little (lot) more!

[inhuman-obey-me]

Excuse me! it’s just me, this blog’s stalker because your works amazing. I kinda am in love with your demon’s nature series. I if I could request something. Could you possible do MC seeing the brothers do something that is “demonic”. Similar to what happens in the series. Thank you!!!!

Hello!! Haha, thank you -- we’re so glad you like our content! ;u;

And I’m glad that you enjoy the Demon’s Nature series! It’s been a lot of fun to write.

Sorry this took a bit! I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be something with one of the brothers or all of them, so I ended up doing little short blurbs for each of the brothers and MC accidentally catching them doing something demonic/violent. Tried to keep them all pretty short, which was hard.

[Mod Cosmos]

MC accidentally catching the Demon Brothers being Demonic/Violent

content warning: blood/gore, body horror (especially in Beel’s), and general violence

Note: This is through the perspective of an MC that knows that the demons do their thing, but perhaps doesn't want to see it happening in front of them.

LUCIFER

You were supposed to go shopping together after meetings for the day were finished, and he had told you to just wait an additional thirty minutes so that he could finish up some business. Thirty minutes passed, but there was still no word from him, so you decide you’ll go and see what was holding that workaholic up. You soon realize that was a mistake.

You hear muffled cries, and a familiar deep voice. Cautiously, you approach the source of these sounds -- a room located off a dark corridor. You didn’t think there were any classrooms here, and your curiosity got the better of you -- so you approach the door, peeking through the crack. You recognize the intimidating silhouette and --- there’s blood. There was another figure in the room, their body limp on the ground in a puddle of red, the mighty first-born’s claws tearing through flesh. A loss of balance in your surprise results in you tumbling into the room, earning a sharp turn from Lucifer, whose crimson eyes were wide in surprise. His wings spread out to try and shield the unsavory scene from you.

“MC, you were supposed to wait for me.” His voice is stern, but there’s a gentleness to it. He sees the queasy look on your face, and decides he can put this torment to an end. With a swift motion, he fully blocks your line of sight before slitting the lesser demon’s throat. He then turns back to you, lightly embracing your body with black feathers. His voice is soft as he did not want to frighten you. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see that. Let’s get you home, shall we? I’ll make you some tea.”

MAMMON

It had just been a scratch. A low-level demon had taken a swipe at you in passing, but hadn’t been able to cut too deep. Mammon insisted he was just running off to get a bandaid after you insisted he didn’t need to go after the other demon. He said that he’d be right back--”I’m just gettin’ a bandage, I swear!”-- and told you not to move an inch. But this bandage quest was taking longer than it should have, so you go after him, pressing a loose cloth against your wound. And there he was, having cornered the offending demon. He seems to be staking the demon in the arm with a sharp metal object, speaking in a tongue you couldn’t understand.

You hadn’t even realized you had dropped the Majolish bag from your hand, not until it hit the ground with a thud and Mammon whipped around to see you there. A flash of guilt appears on his features, his eyes going between you and the lowly demon. He drops them, though he can’t resist one more swift kick to their chest before running back to you.

“I told ya I’d be right back!” He’s about to cup your face in his hands, but retracts them as he realizes they’re covered in blood. “Uh, okay, let’s go get that,” he motions to your injury, “...taken care of, yeah?” He mumbles a sorry as he picks up the bag you dropped before ushering you away from the scene, promising he’d do whatever he needed to do to make up for having to witness it.

LEVIATHAN

You’re browsing games at a shop, having tagged along with Leviathan who had been raving about a new release. At one point, however, Leviathan had vanished from your side. You now realize it’s been … quite some time, actually. You wander about the store, unable to find him anywhere. Did he step outside? You decide to check, missing the anxious glance from the clerk behind the counter.

You hear some sounds from the alley by the shop. Is that … someone choking? Worried, you round the corner to make sure whoever it was is okay -- only to see the one doing the strangling was Leviathan himself. He had his tail tightly wrapped around the other demon’s throat, and … what, what was that inky substance leaking from their eyes? Leviathan caught your shadow against the alley wall, turning to you with a slightly panicked look.

“M-MC!” His tail quickly slithered off and away from the demon’s throat, leaving them to collapse to the ground. He’s suddenly at your side, hands on your shoulders as he turns you around and makes you walk out of the alley with him, murmuring something about how the venom will take care of the rest. “S-sorry about that, MC. You look a little sick … let’s get that game and go home and play, okay?”

SATAN

You had been ambling through an aisle in the grand Royal Library, wondering what random book you should pick up next to flip through idly. Satan had wanted to spend a quiet day reading and studying together, to which you readily obliged. But it was easy to forget just how large the Royal Library was -- what floor were you on again? -- and you wonder if you should head back to where the two of you had set up. Then you suddenly hear a distant crash. It seemed to be coming from one of the meeting rooms at the back, and you couldn’t help but want to take a peek to see what had happened.

“Fuck you!” You knew that voice, and you knew that anger. There was a muffled yell, and what sounded like shattering glass. Then there’s a chilling, mocking laughter, and you can feel the goosebumps starting to cover your skin. You nervously approach the slightly ajar door, and there he is, his tail impaling another demon with its sharp ridges. Oh, there is fury burning in those eyes -- ones that shift to land on you, and that glowing fury is replaced with exasperation.

“MC!” Your name comes out as a hiss, but he quickly tosses the other demon, slamming them into the wall. “You…” He’s unsure what to say, his wrath calming at the sight of you, especially with that look on your face. “I … I’m sorry, I just had to take care of something. Please, let’s go. We can talk about this later.”

ASMODEUS

The music is loud, the drinks are pouring, and you’re having an absolutely wonderful night out clubbing with Asmodeus. You were returning from the bar with two drinks in hand for the both of you, thanking one of the security guards on your way for managing the crowd of fans that had now dispersed, only to find that Asmodeus was not to be found at your table. He had left a note-- “BRB! ♡”--with lipstick on a napkin. You waited, sipping your drink as you demon watched from your seat. Some time passes, and you realize you’ve finished your drink a bit more quickly than intended. There’s still no sign of him, so you might as well go get another.

On the way to the bar, however, you pass by what you assumed was the hall to the restrooms, and you hear a desperate “I’m sorry!” cutting through the heavy bass. Should you be concerned? Well, you decide to at least be nosy, so you slip into the hall to see what was going on -- and are met with the sight of Asmodeus holding a heart he had carved out of some poor demon’s chest. In your shock, your empty glass slips through your fingers and crashes to the floor, earning your demon’s attention.

“Oh, MC!” Despite his surprise to see you, he gives you a smile -- one that gives you chills as you see blood spattered on his face. “Ah, what a mess…” He lets the lesser demon slide to the floor, debating on what to do with the organ in hand, but hides it behind his back for now, coming over to place a quick kiss on your cheek. “Sorry about that, darling. I’m just going to go clean up, so wait for me at the table, ‘kay?”

BEELZEBUB

You had agreed to go with him to Madame Scream’s after finishing up classes for the day, but he was running late. He’s not picking up any calls, either, so you decide to go to where his last class would have been -- maybe they were just running way over, and he hadn’t realized the time? The hall is quiet, and you end up reaching an empty classroom. Walking back out, you decide to try calling him again. Ring, ring. After a moment, you realize you can hear Beelzebub’s ringtone in the distance, and you follow your ears to where his D.D.D. and ultimately he himself must be.

You weren’t prepared for what you saw next. A head of bright orange hair buried in a lesser demon’s abdomen, the sound of squelching and slurping from his feasting sounding so much more insidious than usual.

“Beel!” You can’t help but cry out his name in shock, which causes him to jolt upright -- with intestines still hanging from his mouth. Oh, you were going to be sick …

“MC … sorry, Lucifer always says I need to work on my table manners … “ He gulps down what was left hanging, but his eyes widen when it registers just who caught him in the act. “Oh, uh, guess that’s not the point, huh … “ He sheepishly wipes at his mouth with some torn cloth that you can only assume came from his victim, standing up and walking around to block your view of the mangled body. “I’ll clean this up, and then … well, we can do whatever you want to do. Sorry, MC …”

BELPHEGOR

You’re looking around for where Belphegor could possibly be napping. Beelzebub had to go to Fangol practice and asked that you make sure his twin got home, as he had seemed even more tired today than usual. He’s not in the Western Courtyard, so you head to the Southern Courtyard next. You think you remember him saying that was one of his favorite spots…

You perk up as you spot the ever-familiar cow patterned pillow, but you fail to see the demon that was usually attached to it. Peering around the area, worry starts to set in -- and then you hear a scream. It certainly didn’t belong to Belphegor, but the gears in your mind start turning and you run to where the scream came from. Of course, no one else was around here -- it wasn’t the busiest area on campus in the first place. Turning a corner, you see just what you feared -- Belphegor had his claws at another demon’s throat, his barbed tail wrapped around their body and squeezing them tight. You feel weak, the scenario a bit too close for comfort as you recall what he had done to you in the past.

“MC?” Belphegor turned to see you, his eyes wide. He must have sensed your presence at some point, or maybe your heart was pounding much louder than you realized. He drops the other demon, growling something you can’t make out to them, and then slowly approaches you. He sees you tense up, causing him to stop in his tracks. He averts his gaze, not wanting to meet your eyes as he tries to figure out what to say. “I just … had to deal with something. You … you can head on home first, if you want. I understand.”

[professorspork]

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

-

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

-

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do. 

[chosonore]

part three | epiphany

epiphany [noun. a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand, or suddenly become conscious of, something that is very important to you ]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.  

wordcount: 9.1k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, angst, smut!!!!, dom!noritoshi, noritoshi is mean, oral sex, fingering, begging, edging, biting? (he gives u a bite like once), dry humping, riding, lowercase intended [UNEDITED]

a/n: i... will not comment on this. lmfao i can’t believe i wrote all of this filth. please have mercy on me, this is the first time i’ve every written smut and i’m not really good at it fhuewhiu (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) i think this is the angstiest chapter by far but i promise, no more from the next chapter on! i hope you enjoy (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ will also add the series playlist to the masterpost so check it out if you wanna!

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noritoshi watched as you angrily stormed out of the room, slamming the door forcefully. he leaned back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. now you've gone and done it. the words came out harsh and hurtful, force of habit deeply engraved into his brain. never was it his intention to hurt you so deeply, to push you away. but it was the only way to protect you from his family. noritoshi was well aware that he was a mere pawn in the stupid game that the clans were playing. he was the golden child, only accepted into the family because of his cursed technique. the cruelty he experienced was something he would never forget. he seeked revenge, for his mother and himself. but this was his own problem to handle, not wanting to drag his mother or you into this mess. 

for years, noritoshi had suffered quietly, his only motivation being the protection of his mother and you. rarely did he ever show any emotion, nor did he know many to begin with - but he knew he loved you. his suppressed adoration brought out ugly facettes of his personality: jealousy, frustration, anger. if his family ever caught wind of how much he loved and cherished you, it'd be the end for the both of you. he didn't doubt that they'd already arranged a partner for him to marry. noritoshi hated how they held onto traditions that had no place in this time any more. how they still engaged in these petty clan fights when now it was most crucial to stick together. he swore to himself, as soon as he would become clan head, everything was going to change. but until then, he had to get through this.

how much longer he could deal with this, he wasn't sure. it did bother him that you got so much attention from everyone else; it irked him even more to see that you flirted back sometimes, completely unaware of the effect you had on them. his heart yearned to be yours. as much as he didn't want to be selfish, he couldn't help but indulge. noritoshi still felt your lips on his, your smooth skin, how pliable you were in his arms and how you gave in, into him. was it unfair of him? he supposed so. if he ever got the chance to explain the entire issue to you, he would have to beg for your forgiveness, undoubtedly.

summer rolled around faster than you’d anticipated - it meant that you could finally get some room to breathe and just do nothing for a while. the third years had graduated a week prior, making you feel a little sad and wistful. you’d miss todo a lot now that he left the school but made him promise that he would drop by whenever possible. noritoshi however- you hadn’t spoken a word to him ever since that incident. it was frosty between the two of you, even the teachers had noticed and tried to not let you close to each other. while you hadn’t thought about him in a while, sometimes the thoughts were creeping up on you. some type of closure would have left you feel more at ease but having talked to your mum about the issue, it helped you move on. regardless of how he had made you feel, you would live your life for yourself now.

summer break was long and you didn’t have anything in particular planned - the two main events were your summer vacation with miwa as well as your training camp at tokyo tech. the spring tournament also had its good sides, you guessed, you were able to ask shoko and gojo to teach you over the summer. having witnessed shoko’s healing abilities first hand, you were hellbent to become as good as her. never again would you feel anxious and useless about your skills, you would become an excellent on field healer. you were looking forward to spending time with everyone there as well, especially since yuta was coming home for the summer break. you couldn’t shake the little crush you had on him, it creeped up on you whenever you talked on the phone or texted each other. subconsciously, you hoped that something would bloom out of it but hope was a fickle thing that could quickly turn into misery.

before you left for tokyo, you decided to visit your parents at the kamo estate, hoping that you wouldn’t run into noritoshi on your way there. as far as you knew, he was busy on missions, rarely ever coming home. you greeted the guard at the front entrance, making your way to your family’s little house near the outskirts of the estate. despite the uncomfortable atmosphere that was surrounding the entire estate, you still couldn’t help but fall in love with the gardens and sculptures over and over again. you couldn’t lie, growing up here was wonderful. deciding to make a little detour to the koi pond, you skipped towards the arch bridge. below you, the fish were happily swimming around, glimmering in all kinds of colours. you peered at them, leaning against the railing. as a child, you always liked to dip your feet into the water on hot summer days, promptly earning a disapproving glare from your mum. you always ignored her though, claiming that she couldn’t stop you from getting some kind of refreshment.

as you watched the koi and took in your surroundings, footsteps made you halt in your musings. one of the kamo elders must have gone on a stroll around the gardens; you whirled around to greet the person. your throat grew dry and constricted when you saw noritoshi walking towards you, looking so casual and carefree in his loosely tied yukata. should you greet him? after all, this place was his in some way. but your friendship (could you even call it friendship?) ended on a bad note, did you really owe it to him? neither of you made a sound until he stood next to you, leaning against the railing. you tried your best not to look at him and focused on the pond below you, staring so intensely that you thought you might have lasered some holes in the surface beneath you.

how much longer would you stand here? could you just leave? but then, wouldn’t it be even more awkward? not that you cared anyways. you hadn’t talked to each other in months. as you pushed away from the railing, noritoshi cleared his voice and turned his body towards you. 

“y/n.”

you froze in your steps, looking at him like a deer in headlights. behind you, the wind was rustling up the leaves, adding to the tense and awkward atmosphere. you tried not to scream at him in frustration - it would only end up in yet another fight. yet, noritoshi looked strangely vulnerable in this state, seemingly not knowing what to say to you either. it appeared he simply spoke to you without considering how to further the conversation. he looked like he wanted to reach out to you but simply didn’t know how. you couldn’t fall for this - it had happened before.

“how have you been? i heard you’re going to tokyo tech for training,” he started after a moment of hesitation and gave you a wry smile. huh? you were confused. why was he asking you about this now? it was because of megumi and yuta, wasn’t it.

“it’s… it’s none of your business,” you said with a strained voice. even though you felt uncomfortable with his presence around you, you couldn’t take a step away from him. perhaps you were hoping for an explanation from his side. perhaps you were just relieved to see he was okay, after all the missions he’d already been sent on. “i don’t see how i owe you an answer after… everything that happened between us.”

noritoshi stayed silent, balling up his fists. “you’re right. i’m sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his hands in the sleeves of his yukata embarrassed. “i… i want to explain myself. at least as much as i can tell you and if you’re okay with it. can we move it somewhere more private? i don’t want any of the elders seeing us.”

you hesitated. on one hand, noritoshi sounded sincere but your history spoke for itself. and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. like a moth to flames, you were always drawn to him. like the center of your universe, everything revolved around him. curiosity got the better of you, nodding before you could stop yourself. noritoshi let out a sigh in relief, stepping towards a more secluded area on the estate, one that you were very familiar with. as children, you used to spend time there a lot, hidden from your parents eyes and without any care in the world. the little corner was surrounded by tall cherry trees, adorned with smaller bushes and a little bench underneath the tree crowns. as noritoshi made his way there, he glanced behind him, making sure that you wouldn’t just leave him and vanish. true to your word, however, you trudged behind him and kept your distance. not once did you look him in the eyes, avoiding his gaze altogether. you were afraid it would make you weak in your resolve, walls crumbling and falling apart like paper mâché.

arriving at the bench, the two of you sat far apart, mirroring the distance between your hearts. you reminisced the old times, the memories making you queasy. whenever you spent time here as children, you would sit close to each other and read books together or just told each other stories. all that’s left was bitterness, heavy and suffocating on your tongue. “what is it that you wanted to tell me?” you questioned him, folding your hands on your lap. you were clenching your hands hard to keep them from trembling, not wanting to show him any weakness.

noritoshi was questioning his own resolve - he shouldn’t tell you anything, should’ve stayed away from you. the yearning was too strong; it was one of the few times he would ever get to see you again before being sent to yet another mission. noritoshi wanted to be selfish, to savour your presence until he was satisfied. maybe you would understand, at least a little bit. he didn’t expect you to forgive him, nor did he think you would let him crawl back into your space. but being close to you was enough.

“i know no amount of apologizing is going to make this better or even take the pain you’ve felt from my treatment but i want you to know that i’m really sorry. you didn’t deserve that whatsoever. i can’t tell you the exact reason why but- but i don’t want to leave you in the unknown any longer,” noritoshi recited his reasons so fast that you almost weren’t able to follow. with each word, your confusion visibly grew. but instead of feeling anger, as you should have, your heart grew heavier with disappointment. his confession was somewhat of closure but not quite. why couldn’t he tell you the reason? was it really so important? important enough to hurt you? you couldn’t understand and you didn’t want to.

“i don’t understand. why can’t you tell me? in case you didn’t realize yourself, this entire thing makes no sense. i don’t understand why you suddenly started hating me. we were close friends, we grew up together. are you telling me you never felt that way? that you weren’t and still aren’t able to trust me with this… reason? and why would you dump this onto me now? i would’ve been content not knowing anything at all,” you vented frustrated, sending him a glare. noritoshi was taken back by your outburst, gnawing at his bottom lip as he looked at you guiltily.

“i… fuck, i don’t know how to explain this without giving away too much, okay? i know it’s stupid but it’s complicated and i don’t want to drag you into this. i trust you, more than i trust anyone but this wasn’t… it wasn’t because i didn’t trust you,” noritoshi took a deep breath. “my entire goal was to protect you by keeping you away from me. and yeah, that was the only way.”

“but why-”

“now that i’ve left school, i’ll most likely be traveling a lot… i won’t be able to see you, let alone keep my eyes on you to make sure you’re okay. i just wanted to be fucking selfish for once, just needed to see you again. you don’t want to see me, i get it. i’ve been nothing but cruel to you and i don't expect you to ever forgive me. but i promise i'll make it up to you."

"noritoshi," you clenched your jaw, brows furrowed as you leaned over, jabbing your finger at his chest. "i don't want to play this game of cat and mouse with you. let's just stay away from each other, okay? nothing good comes out of it anyways. either you want me by your side or you don't, easy as that. you don't get to decide when to get back into my life just because you feel like it."

you just couldn't show him how hurt you were. whatever opening you would reveal, noritoshi would use it against you. he had always been and will always remain your weak point. you made peace with the fact that he was your first love but would probably not be your last. a dam broke inside you as you felt the warmth of his chest, memories flooding your senses. that day was long forgotten, exiled out of your memories until now. there was never a moment that allowed you to reflect on it. you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it and his confession had confirmed the suspicions. noritoshi wasn't the type to engage with people he strongly disliked, much less be intimate with them. there was more to it that he simply refused to disclose to you. you had to put an end to this endless circle - a clean cut until the two of you were ready to face each other again.

taking a deep breath, you withdrew your hand and clutched it to your chest. "this isn't going to work out the way it is. you keep pulling and pushing, without giving me an explanation and- and i'm tired of it. i'm tired of getting hurt. i used to like you a lot, i had a crush on you-"

"you what?" noritoshi visibly paled, unnoticeably inching closer to you. he never realized.

"-and i kept hoping that one day you would return the feelings. i'm a fool, for thinking we could ever get anywhere," you smiled bitterly, slowly getting up from the bench. "let's go back to being enemies, okay? pretend this never happened. it's obvious we need to grow as people, independently from each other. maybe it's good that we'll go separate ways… if fate wants it, we'll find back to each other. and hopefully by then, you'll have a good explanation."

conflicted, you didn’t take another step, staring down at him. he looked small and meek as he sat there with his usually broad frame hunched over and kept his eyes on the grass below him, fiddling with his fingers. as if sensing your gaze on him, noritoshi tilted his head to look at you. his mind was elsewhere, far far away. he didn't realize he was staring at you with blank eyes until you came closer and leaned down concerned. you were so close to him, he could almost feel your breath fanning across his skin. you liked him. noritoshi fucked up, majorly, and he felt like everything was slipping from his fingers. his carefully constructed walls, the mask he kept on at all times and the unwavering resolve to push through until he'd become the head of the clan, they all came crumbling down when you announced that you would leave for an indefinite amount of time.

"don't leave," the words came out like a whisper, barely audible in the chimes of the wind. your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words, heart clenching at the sight of such a vulerable noritoshi - a reflection of your 'toshi. he reached out to you, hesitantly glasping your hand in a weak grip. as if he was afraid, prepared even, that you would go anyways. "please," he pleaded a second later, intertwining your fingers with his. like the wings of a hummingbird, your heart was fastly beating at this display of intimacy. it made you feel warm and cold at the same time, filling you with dread and the looming fear of consequences.

but what would he do if his last source of hope would leave him? ever since his mum left, he sparsely had contact with her until the contact eventually ceased to be. never did she reach out to him or react to his attempts to rekindle the relationship. throughout his adolescent years he had lonely, the guilt gnawing at his conscience. if only he could be stronger, more resilient. stand up to the elders and stand tall and proud, being nobody else but him. you gave him hope, that he could someday return to you, even if it remained a simple friendship. a beacon of light would always be one as there was always light at the end of the tunnel. panic filled his head as he realized that you would abandon him and this time it would be final.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," noritoshi mumbled in a begging tone and slowly drew you closer, until you stood between his legs. his face was basked in the evening light, accentuating all the features you liked about him. his kind, steel blue eyes that harboured depths of emotion and mystery like a restless ocean. his long hair that flowed with the wind, not being wrapped up in the bindings for once. the wisps of hair that framed his slim face. it was an unusual sight, making your heart clench in melancholy. he looked so innocent like this, the gentleness in his facial expressions more visible now. as if feeling your resolve slipping away, he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and pressed his face in your chest, exhaling shakily and slowly. you let him, gently petting his hair.

underneath his breath, noritoshi murmured something. his voice was muffled in the fabric, making it difficult to understand what he was saying. you made a confused sound, leaning down slightly to better listen to him. not expecting him to move as well, you suddenly found yourself face to face with him and much closer than before. "i love you," he breathed out, pressing his lips against yours in a fluid motion. they felt scalding against yours, as if reminding you to stay away and yet soft, inviting you back in. finally gasping for air, you pulled away, fingers coming up to touch your tingling lips. noritoshi gave you a hopeful look, fingers dancing across the expanse of your back.

slowly, you backed away from him, avoiding his glance. you were in shock, not being able to process his confession. the entire confrontation had quickly escalated and you weren't able to follow. though the words made your heart clench, you couldn't help but feel like they were empty words. empty, simply thrown into the mix to elicit some kind of reaction from you. "i'm sorry, noritoshi. i- i can't return this, nor do i… i don't feel like i can believe you," you told him with a heavy heart. he opened his mouth, about to retort something when you cut him off. "please just let us move on from this, okay? i- i'll leave now." you sprinted away from him, tears stinging in your eyes. how could words that you've always wanted to hear hurt this much? how dare he play with your emotions like this, using your weakness to his advantage. he wasn't serious, and you were sure of it. there was no way in hell, after all those years that he'd spent being a menacing asshole.

love was a fickle thing but what was it between noritoshi and you? treading the line between love and hate, tilting more towards the other but not quite. never far apart and connected to each other like an invisible thread of fate was intertwined between you. it wasn't love and it wasn't hate but everything in between.

you stared at the piece of paper in your hands, mildly offended. how dare gojo? why would he do this to you? yeah right, because he liked to see you suffer. and he wasn't even here to get an earful from you. clenching your teeth, you tossed the note on your table and moved towards your closet to pack. it was no use complaining about it, in the end the mission had to be accomplished either way. years you'd gotten away with rarely ever meeting noritoshi. the sorcerer community wasn't big to begin with but with skill and determination, you were able to dodge every encounter. the handful of times you met, he always kept his distance though you always felt his watching eyes on you. megumi had told you that noritoshi was to become clan head soon - the elders had finally given in and the handover would be taking place soon.

apparently noritoshi had proven himself to them, both in strength and leadership skills. even you had taken notice of this. you'd only caught a brief glimpse at him at the last gathering but could tell that he had matured, exuding an authoritative and strong aura. but you had grown as well, no longer the meek girl you had been. you were more confident in your skills now thanks to your diligent training with shoko and yuta. moments of insecurity rarely entered your mind anymore. the relationship, or rather lack thereof, between you was rather frosty now, merely limited to an awkward greeting or a simple nod. the tension was palpable, no one wanted to come in the line of fire. for the most part, people had left you alone and not dared asking about the issue, not even your own mum. but of course, gojo then had to enter and send you on this stupid mission that apparently had to be done in pairs. you would’ve been fine with anyone but noritoshi.

it was a rather unpleasant curse that you had to deal with, gojo told you that it required two people to keep it in check. though you didn’t understand his reasoning, seeing as noritoshi was a grade one sorcerer now. gojo had simply left you a note on your door after he left for his own business (pure cowardice, in your opinion). the note let you know that you would be staying overnight, gojo had already booked a hotel room for you and gave you instructions for the report that you had to fill out later. you were to meet up with noritoshi at the hotel before then heading out to investigate, work out a strategy before attacking. you sighed, tossing the bag near the door before crawling in your bed. how would you face him again, for an extended period of time, after all those years of silence? it was best to just get it over and done with, efficiently and quickly. depending on how fast you were, you might even be able to catch the last train home. you couldn’t sleep, feeling restless and anxious about the entire situation. still, you closed your eyes, trying to get your mind to rest. but all that floated around in your brain was the sound of rustling leaves, accompanied with soft lips on yours.

coincidentally, noritoshi was already in the city the curse was situated at, deciding to then check into the hotel first before you’d meet up. he would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous - he didn’t know how to navigate the entire mission with minimal communication. he knew you didn’t want to talk to him, choosing to give him curt and snappy responses instead. cooperating was out of question, you disliked his presence and he could feel it. seeing that gojo had coordinated this (instead of doing the mission himself, like he was supposed to), noritoshi didn't expect anything to go well. weeks prior, gojo had pestered him about the title that was bestowed upon him. "so what's your first deed as the kamo clan head?" he had questioned noritoshi, grinning from ear to ear. noritoshi had shrugged and simply told him that he would go about his day. there were no plans, not yet at least. "so you're not gonna go and woo your lady?" this all knowing idiot. just thinking about it made his blood boil again.

noritoshi’s patience was already wearing thin upon seeing that gojo had booked one room for the two of you. with one bed only. he swore that gojo's secret skill was to give everyone headaches. complaining was useless, the hotel couldn't give him another room as everything was booked out due to it being the summer holidays. they'd deal with it somehow, even if he would have to sleep on the floor. noritoshi was placing his bag and outerwear in the closet when the door clicked, signaling that you'd arrived. for a brief moment, your eyes met but as soon as they did, your eyes had flitted somewhere else. you placed your bag on a nearby chair, rummaging in it until you found your sword and other supplies that you would be taking with you.

noritoshi remained silent, not wanting to upset you. he waited until you were ready to go, soundlessly following you. it was awkward but expected. at first, he was somewhat able to tell what you were looking for and gave you pointers in the right direction. it seemed to irritate you and you started venturing off on your own, simply leaving him behind. it frustrated him, after all you had a job to be done and needed to be as careful as possible. as a result of your uncooperativeness, it took longer than usual to map out a strategy. even longer because you refused to follow his suggestions and rather made up your own, knowing full well that they weren't as efficient.

the aftermath was… rather unpleasant. while there were no casualties, the two of you looked absolutely filthy and were in need of a good shower. noritoshi was angry, he didn't want to blame you but the entire situation got incredibly messy because of your stubborn head. hadn't you attacked him on your own, he would've been able to get rid of the curse swiftly. you'd snapped at him, asking him what his problem was. after all, the mission was finished and over with. involuntarily, noritoshi had to snort. you came back to the hotel late, far past midnight and still, you had the nerve to nag on him the entire way there. he'd let you use the shower first before hopping in himself. without a word you left the hotel room to grab yourself some snacks, stomach growling in protest.

noritoshi was seldom petty; as he put his robe on and entered the room, discovering that you hadn't come back yet, he promptly decided to give you a taste of your own medicine and stubbornly take the bed. what would you do about it now? he was peacefully reading a book in the dim lighting of the room when you came back. you almost dropped the snacks that you grabbed, narrowing your eyes at him. noritoshi ignored you, turning another page in the book unbothered. huffing in annoyance, you stomped over to the other side of the bed. noritoshi continued to ignore you.

"i'm not sharing a bed with you," you stated, crossing your arms in defiance. you didn't have any other solution but you were not going down without a fight.

noritoshi just narrowed his eyes at you and replied equally annoyed: "childish much, huh? just put some pillows between us if it bothers you that much. we're adults, for fuck's sake. and we've shared beds before, so i don't know what your problem is."

at this point you were fuming, you'd rather sleep on the floor than go anywhere near him. you wanted to wipe that stupid look off his face because you knew he was right and he knew it too. you were being childish and you couldn't deny it. there was no real reason to the quarrel, you wanted to be as insufferable as possible.

"it's different now!" you hissed indignantly. noritoshi looks at you incredulously, not getting your point. "you're a man now and- and it makes me uncomfortable!"

truthfully, it was more the fact that you were painfully aware of his presence now. noritoshi hadn't noticed but your feelings came crashing back in, filling the entirety of your being with yearning. each and every time he came too close, you dashed and didn't give him the opportunity to look at your face. the pained expression on your face was obvious, you weren't able to hide it. despite the hostility, you couldn't help but care. no matter how much you denied it, you would always habour feelings for him and were very much attracted to him.

"that's why i told you to put pillows between us??"

okay, that's it. "i can't stand being anywhere near you! you're a prick and i hate you," you snarled at him. to seal the deal, you hurled one of the pillows at him and watched triumphantly as it hit his chest. the angry look in noritoshi's eyes, however, told you that you fucked up. gritting his teeth, he tossed his book aside and lunged to grab you. you squeaked in surprise and wiggled out of his grasp, wrestling out of his arms until you stumbled and awkwardly landed on the bed, beside him. noritoshi keeps a tight grip on you, glaring down at you. now you've really crossed the line. 

all confidence left your body when he hissed: "what. is. your. problem." you fucked up, royally. once noritoshi was mad, you were in for a ride. it was best to keep him in good spirits, appease him a little so he would ease up. you scrambled panicky and tried to apologize, pathetically wiggling in his arms.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry! i didn't mean it, please let me go!"

noritoshi kept a steel grip on you, moving between your legs and pinning your hands to the mattress. his face inched closer, you could feel his breath fanning across your neck. you stayed still, breath hitched as you waited for his next move. noritoshi's voice was raspy, lilting with an emotion that you couldn't decipher. "you're being a brat, y/n. look at yourself, you've hurt me… tsk, how are you going to make it up to me?"

you couldn't tell whether he was joking or genuinely hurt - your intuition told you that he was simply playing with you as payback. no matter how far away you strayed, you always seemed to find yourself back in this position. he was hypnotizing, alluring even. not giving him a reply, you stared at the ceiling, frozen in thought. while you'd been intimate on more than one occasion, noritoshi had never acted this way. so… possessive and strict, the tone in his voice told you that he wasn't up for any more quarreling. you were at a loss for words. 

noritoshi, not being happy with not receiving an answer, decided to take matters in his own hands. he nipped at your neck playfully, making you yelp in surprise before pressing kisses against your neck. your skin was tingling, shots of electricity moving up your spine. when there was no objection on your end, noritoshi took it was an okay to continue. hands squeezing yours, he resumes his work, giving you soft and almost unnoticeable kisses. other times, he was pressing harder, sucking your skin gently. you wondered whether he left some marks - delirious on pleasure, your mind focused back on him.desire overtook you, no longer was your rationality at the forefront. in the depths of your heart, an emotion that rarely made an appearance emerged. it was flooding your senses, your conscious and mind, begging you to give in.

by the time noritoshi reached your lips, you were writhing. you expected him to kiss you but then he stopped, making you involuntarily whimper. you wanted more, wanted to savour it. a small smile found its way onto his lips as he brushed your hair back and cupped your chin, making you look at him.

and you swore that he knew, he just had to know what a mess he's already made of you in such a short amount of time as he asked, "what's wrong hm? what do you need, baby?" you fell for it, hook line and sinker. you thought to yourself, fuck it, the opportunity was right there. he may be an insufferable dick and you might fight more than you get along but the opportunity was there and god, did you want to be selfish. for just one night, you wanted to be his. you leaned up to kiss him but noritoshi pulled back, clicking his tongue, repeating again and this time more firmly, "what do you need?" 

you couldn't help but stare at him, how his slightly damp hair framed his face, his chest that was exposed by the loosely tied bathrobe and how it revealed parts of his thigh. you wanted to see more of him, touch him. there was a burning feeling inside your chest, it was clawing at your skin, trying to break free. you grew more restless as he stayed still and gave you a stern look until you grasped the hem of his sleeves and whimpered quietly, "please kiss me."

it felt like an eternity until he pressed his lips against yours, everything that was so unmistakably him flooded your senses. his scent wrapped around you until your brain couldn't make out any more coherent thoughts other than him. 'toshi, 'toshi, 'toshi, your 'toshi. he moved so languidly; his lips were warm and soft but bruising at the same time, kissing you with fervour. you began to ease into the kiss, letting go of all your inhibitions. you could worry about it later, you'd decided, this is a future you problem. you wiggled in his hold, hands coming up to push at his bathrobe. noritoshi didn't budge and continued to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip - your hands became more restless, desperate to touch him. he made an unenthused noise, biting your bottom lip as if warning you to not push him. still, he somehow obliged and sat back on his heels, taking his bathrobe off and throwing it haphazardly to the side. 

he looked ethereal, somewhere in the distance you thought you can hear angels singing. you reached out to touch him again, earning you yet another warning glance from him. “where do you get the confidence to do whatever you want after that little stunt you pulled earlier?” he questioned you in a low voice. whatever snarky remark you had on your tongue was thrown out of the window when noritoshi leaned down to touch you, slowly pushing your oversized shirt up to reveal your shorts, then your bra. 

your breath hitched in your throat, you couldn't tell what he was thinking because even in this state he kept his perfect poker face on. and when he undressed you, you almost felt embarrassed of how eager you were to rid yourself of your clothes. yet you felt exposed - noritoshi didn't make a sound as he just studied you as if you were a luxurious meal presented on a silver plate, the sound of his breathing alone making you squirmish. he didn't give you the satisfaction of a compliment nor did he let you know what he thought, instead leaning down to kiss you again.

before you could deepen the kiss, he’s already moved down to your neck. you mewled in disappointment, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your hands in his hair. this time, he let you touch him, too absorbed in his mission to paint the skin of your neck in hues of red and purple. noritoshi moved lower when he was finally satisfied with his work of art, you’re a great canvas, he thought to himself. the burning feeling in your chest was flaring up again, you felt uncomfortably hot and the only relief you got was him touching you. he must know, he was doing this on purpose. you were convinced. a surprised gasp left your lips when his tongue swiped across your nipple before wrapping his lips around it. his fingers flicked the other one and- oh god did it feel so electrifying, so delicious, so good. you moaned his name, gently tugging on his hair as he continued his ministrations. “noritoshi,” you whimpered, trying to grind against his thigh. “please- please touch me.” he moved faster than you could react, snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin.

“i am touching you,” noritoshi responded matter-of-factly, cupping your breasts. “is this not enough?” you shook your head, making him chuckle. he took his sweet time, lathering your chest with the utmost attention. at this point you were sure you’d soaked through your panties and onto the sheets and you were desperate. finally, his lips left your nipple, his breath grazing them, making you shiver. he seemed to enjoy it, enjoy the effect he has on you, how you were writhing for him and him only. with swift movements, he removed your panties and your legs were thrown over his shoulders - how are his shoulders so broad - and he pressed kisses to your inner thighs. “look at you,” he cooed, glancing up at you. “you’re so wet for me and i haven’t even touched you here yet. are you craving me?”

“yes,” you mewled truthfully, wiggling your hips slightly. you missed how his face lights up in delight, loving how you’re slowly but surely coming undone for him. he was placing kisses everywhere but where you wanted him, where you needed him. you were at his mercy, he alone decided the pace. the desperate little tugs at his hair left him unbothered, you couldn't even move properly because he was keeping a tight grip on your hips, holding them down onto the mattress. “do you want me?” you nodded quickly. “then beg.”

"i'm not- i'm not gonna fucking b-" you didn't get to finish your sentence as noritoshi gave your inner thigh a bite. 

"language," he hissed in irritation. "we can do this all night, baby. i don't have any qualms about keeping you here, making you squirm until you know not to treat me like that." to emphasize his threat, his hands languidly stroked your inner thighs, inching closer to your heat. goosebumps raised across your skin. noritoshi paid no mind to your laboured breathing or how you stared at him in disbelief. you would not beg him more than this, this stupid asshole, who did he think he is to expect you to do as he says? as if sensing that your attention wasn't on him anymore, one of his hands reached up to pinch your nipple.

you felt his fingers grazing your pussy, flicking over your clit but not quite touching it. yet the pleasure, coupled with the sharp pain of his pinching, was enough to make you delirious. you moaned his name, hips rutting up slightly to meet his hand. noritoshi pulled away abruptly and made you whine in frustration. "noritoshi!" you whimpered again, closing your eyes in embarrassment. "please just- just touch m-" 

you felt another, harder pinch, tingles shooting straight to your core. "look at me," noritoshi growled and you opened your eyes quickly, not wanting to disappoint him again.

"please touch me, please just… i need you, need your lips or fingers," you struggled to find the right words, huffing in frustration at your weak attempt to persuade him. "please make me cum, please. i'll be good for you, i promise, i promise. wanna be good for you." 

a sardonic smile graced noritoshi's lips, your begging music to his ears. he almost wished you could see yourself like this - the yearning evident in your eyes, your glossy eyes. what would you say? how quickly your resolve had crumbled, even though you'd vowed to yourself to keep him at an arm's length away from you. what was more heavenly to his ears are your moans and he intended to draw every last bit out of you tonight.

when his tongue finally made contact with your cunt, a loud moan leaves your lips, you almost sob in relief. your thighs trembled slightly, threatening to close but noritoshi was quick to pry them open and delved deeper into your heat. he alternated between lapping at your folds, then dragging his tongue across your clit before giving it a suck. your hips rocked against his face, meeting his movements as if it was already second nature to them. you thought you were seeing stars when you inched closer to your climax. tugging at his hair you whimpered out his name, letting him know that you're close, so close. that's when he pulled away, smirking at you as your high slowly ebbed away. you made a noise in protest, brows pinching in frustration but noritoshi just cooed at you condescendingly. 

"you seem to forget who's in control here," he tsked at you, dragging his thumb across your clit. your hips jerked. "but, baby, you look so pitiful, i might just feel sorry for you." 

hope sparked in your eyes when he pressed a brief kiss to your lips before slipping his fingers past your folds, his thumb drawing circles on your clit. "ride my fingers," he commanded and you reacted immediately, eagerly rutting against his fingers. you missed the dark glint in his eyes, the look that tells you you were not easily let off the hook whatsoever. pleasure was clouding your judgement, heightening your sensitivity to his touch. a loud moan fell from your lips when noritoshi curled his fingers, hitting a spot that otherwise was difficult for you to reach. your hand came up to cover your mouth, too embarrassed about other guests possibly hearing you.

noritoshi withdrew his fingers, thumb pressing against your clit. you gasped desperately, pawing at his chest to plead him to continue. "i want to hear you. don't you dare hide your moans," he told you, only sliding his fingers back into you when you complied. noritoshi was still kneeling, watching as you moved your hips against his fingers with fascination. while you'd kept a steady rhythm at the beginning, it was getting more and more sporadic. you were close again, noritoshi could tell. and yet it wasn't enough, he had to get you closer to the edge to then break you after.

"o- oh fuck," you cursed, gripping the sheets tightly as noritoshi moved his fingers, repeatedly hitting the spot that made your toes curl. you were to close, you could cum, soon- 

"noritoshi!" a frustrated sob resounded from you as he pulled away, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk. your hands came up to wipe the tears that were welling in your eyes. you bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying as you watched him pop his fingers in his mouth, licking your essence from them. the sight alone made you feel hot and bothered. in the dim light of the room, noritoshi looked downright sinful. the way his broad frame was casting a shadow over your form, his glistening eyes, the sheen of sweat on his body and how his hair was hanging in his face.

"please let me cum, please! i- i want you so bad, want you in me… noritoshi, please give me it," you begged quietly, crawling towards him. noritoshi felt his heart soften at your cute face - you were so easy to read, he enjoyed teasing you. small hands reached out for the bulge in his boxers, experimentally pressing and nudging at it. noritoshi hissed uncomfortably; he was painfully hard and ready to cum as well but he couldn't, not yet. wanted to play with you more, mapping out the entirety of your body until he memorized how you reacted to his touch.

swiftly flipping positions, he pulled you on top of him, placing you directly above his crotch. you sank down immediately, sighing shakily as you pressed your cunt against the bulge. the boxers had to come off, they were the last barrier. you had to feel his skin on yours, wanted to be closer. noritoshi's hands shot out to stop you, giving you a warning look. you understood, withdrawing your arms to rest on your sides. pressing his bulge against you, he guided your hips to move against it, folds dragging across the fabric of his boxers. the friction was delicious, especially when he rutted against you, pressing against your clit. it took you a few tries until you figured out a comfortable rhythm, placing your hands against his chest as you moved on your own.

noritoshi kept his eyes on you. brushing your hair out of your face so he could get a better look at you, he then rested them near your thighs. "are you close?" he inquired when your movements became quicker and you nodded in reply, giving him a pleading look. he raised his eyebrows at you, shaking his head ever so slightly. "you don't get to cum without my permission."

he could see the conflict and hesitation, dancing in your eyes, how you were contemplating to go against his commands. noritoshi's heart filled with pride when you slowed down, thighs trembling from the restraint you kept on yourself. "good girl," he rewarded you, leaning up to kiss you. you whimpered against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. you were a sight to behold, noritoshi mused. slick spread across the fabric of his boxers and your thighs, kiss-bruised lips and the love bites that were blooming across your chest. he was proud to be able to have this effect on you. 

it didn't take long until you were close again, this time begging and pleading him to let you continue. noritoshi supposed he toyed around enough, ready to give you what you were so desperately craving. lifting you up slightly, he pushed his boxers down and reached to the side, fumbling with the drawers of the night table before being able to pull out a condom. you watched in curiosity, as he put it on then lined his member up against your pussy. he dragged the head of his cock against your clit a couple of times, making you jump in surprise before letting you sink down. a long, relieved moan left your lips as you felt him fill you up to the brim. you'd never felt this full and good. jerking your hips against his slightly, your legs trembled as he perfectly hit that spot inside you effortlessly. his name fell from your lips like a mantra, letting everyone know that he was the one pleasuring you. 

noritoshi let you adjust to him before wrapping his arms around you to keep you in place, driving his hips up against yours in an almost punishing tempo. your lips parted in a silent scream, no sounds leaving them other than heavy breaths. "f- fuck, noritoshi! i'm so close, please let me have it, please-" you begged sobbing. you didn't think you could survive another edging, it would utterly crush you. knowing that you were at his mercy, you complied with his orders. never had you felt this much pleasure, with anyone. noritoshi accomplished what others could never - setting your nerves ablaze with a simple touch.

"cum for me." your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, leaving you writhing in his arms until you rode it out. noritoshi continued to move against you in a languid tempo, lovingly pressing kisses across your face. you slumped against his body exhausted, aftershocks still wracking through your body. he stroke your back gently, giving you a short kiss. "can you take another one?" he asked, making you look at him. though your mind was hazy, you could tell that he was caring, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible despite his mean side. you nodded, your words slurred as you told him: "mhmm, still want you, all of you."

noritoshi was laying you on the mattress, freezing mid-way as he hovered above you. could it be? there was no way. he brushed the thought off quickly, leaning down to kiss you. you sloppily returned the kiss, blindly moving your hands around until you found his, intertwining them happily. swiftly, he entered you again - now taking his sweet time. the pace was slow but filled with force, making you see stars. you wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his skin. you blinked in confusion as noritoshi whispered sweet nothings into your ear. tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him - you wanted him, so so much that it hurt you. you imagined you weren't in this situation, that this was simply intimacy between lovers. that you were his and he was yours, with no care in the world.

driving his hips against yours faster now, you could tell that he was close. lifting your hips to meet his movement, you whimpered against his lips. you wanted to pleasure him as much as he did you. the sight of his screwed shut eyes, panting heavily as he came, it nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs. noritoshi buried his face in the crook of your neck, whimpering quietly as he thrusted a few more times before coming to a halt. for a few minutes, you remain in this position, basking in the afterglow. he removes himself from you, telling you to stay put as he left to get some wet towels from the bathroom. as you laid there, your cunt wasn't the only thing that felt empty.

your eyes were glossing over and you were once again reminded of the fact that you couldn't have him. that he’s not your ‘toshi. you sat up slowly, spotting the mirror across the room. you stared at your reflection in your mirror, horrified at all the marks noritoshi had left behind and suddenly it dawned on you that you don’t understand why. you didn't care about each other - why would he mark you like this? your heartbeat sped up at the thought of him possibly, maybe, returning your feelings. that he wasn't just toying with your feelings to get back at you.

noritoshi returned, giving you a small smile as he signaled you to lift your arms a little so he could wipe you down. the gentleness in his actions made you sniffle emotionally; he paid attention to every single detail, making sure not to miss a spot. once done, he placed the towel on the nearby chair then returning to wrap you in the blankets and cradling you against his chest like a baby. the sound of his breath nearly lulled you into sleep. you leaned against his chest, sinking into the blankets. "are you okay? was i too rough?" noritoshi asked after a moment of silence. you didn't reply. why was he acting like this? as if you were a couple, as if he really cared. 

"y/n? you don't have to reply, but at least give me a hand sign, so i know you're okay," he repeated again, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. you turned your head away from him, trying to hide your tears. it wasn't long before you started crying uncontrollably, hiding your face in your hands. noritoshi started panicking, fussing over you and tried to pry your hands away so you would look at him. repeatedly shaking your head, you pushed him away from you.

"w- why couldn't you always be this gentle to me?" the words finally left your mouth, accusatory. "i- i didn't deserve any of this treatment and i still struggle to understand why it happened. i should hate you, hate you so much and yet i don't? why can't you love me the way i love you?"

speechless, noritoshi pulled away from you, arms sinking to his sides. it made you sob even harder, thinking that he was going to leave you again, like he always did. he never stayed, only came to wreck havoc, leaving you to pick up the pieces. "y/n, i'm sorry, i-" he drew you in, pressing you against his chest. you were confused at your own outbreak of emotions, not sure how to calm down. "i'm not sure what you thought, but i meant it when i told you that i love you, all those years back," noritoshi mumbled, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

you shook your head vehemently. "i don't believe that, not for one second. you've hurt me for so long and suddenly you had a change of heart?"

"i know it's hard to believe, but i promise i'm not lying. i do love you. with all my heart," noritoshi lifted your chin slightly, wiping the tears from your eyes. gently, he kissed you. "back then, i wasn't able to tell you but… things have changed now and i'll tell you, okay? but not now, tomorrow-"

"no! you'll just leave again and act like nothing happened and i-" you panicked, clinging onto him as dread washed over you again. he was going to leave again, the mission was over after all and you'd go separate ways again.

"i'm staying." noritoshi said firmly, holding your hands so you couldn't flail around anymore. "i'm not leaving you, okay? go to sleep, i know you're exhausted… when you wake up, i'll be there. we'll discuss things in the morning."

"promise?" 

"i promise."

you didn't know why but this time, you trusted him. at least a little bit more than before. nodding slightly, you pressed your small frame against his. noritoshi's calming scent wrapped around you, lulling you into sleep. he watched as you fell asleep in his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he settled as well, closing his eyes.

"i love you, y/n."

p.s.: i hurt myself writing this too haha but i swear this was it with the angst

[uswntxfootball]

i get a little bit stressed out (when i think about you) (jill roord x arsenal!reader)

how were you supposed to ask her out when just thinking about her made you nervous?

word count: 3342 ish

rated: F for flirtation sugar daddy

title- nervous by shawn mendes

——

your eyes followed her even when you didn’t mean for them to.

there was just something about the way she carried herself… you really just couldn’t get enough of it and-

“hello? y/n?”

you really really really had it bad. it really didn’t help that she was talking adamantly about something to viv, the other dutch forward having a relatively hard time keeping up with the taller girl.

its only when daan claps in your face that you turn and look at her.

“sorry what?”

daan face palms before saying:

“you know if you stare any harder you’re going to strain your eyes.”

you blush a little.

“i’m not staring….i’m-”

daan’s pointed look shuts you up.

you blush harder and look down at your cleats, adamantly avoiding the midfielder’s gaze.

her tone softens a little when she sees you.

“you really should just ask her out y/n. its been like two years.”

you scoff a little.

“it has not been two years what are you-“

daan cuts you off with a matter-of-fact tone:

“she joined the team in 2019 buddy.”

“yeah but that doesn’t mea-“

“and exactly how many words have you exchanged with her?”

you think before saying with an air of false confidence:

“like a lo-“

“not counting on the field.”

you sigh and hang your head in defeat before whispering:

“like two.”

the dutch midfielder hums and asks again:

“mhmm now what was that?”

you roll your eyes and say it a little louder, still with that air of defeat:

“like two words.”

daan patted your shoulder encouragingly before the whistle blew, indicating the end of break, and training picked up once again.

~~

jill was talking about you during the break, actually.

to viv across the field from you.

the dutch forward had slowly realized that you were different around her, that you didn’t speak as much, and actually that you avoided her at all costs.

this she found out because there were instances, such as during team dinners, where if there was an open seat next to her, you didn’t take it, opting to stand or sit on the floor as far away from her as possible.

or that whenever she sat down next to you you shot up out of your seat almost instantly.

or that when you saw her coming down the hall you immediately turned and walked the way you came from.

or- you get the point.

she couldn’t tell if you hated her, because frankly that’s what it looked like.

so that’s what she was speaking to viv about.

and to lisa about.

and really anyone who would really listen.

of course, everyone knew your predicament, as you weren’t exactly subtle in your staring and stuttering.

they all assured jill that you didn’t hate her, that maybe you were just shy, something jill had a hard time believing since she watched you hold confident eye contact and conversations with literally everyone else but her.

if you were someone else maybe she would care less.

but you weren’t.

see, this is only how you acted off the field.

but on the field, you were a completely different person.

you had a confident, almost authoritative tone when you spoke, one that made everyone stop and listen, and was something that ultimately landed you the role of captain for every team you’ve ever played for, with arsenal being no exception.

you spoke to her that way too, and it was really the only time you made eye contact with her and spoke to her.

granted it was more like you giving orders and directions, but same difference really.

it was also something jill found really really hot.

so safe to say she cared about what you thought of her.

jill eventually decided that if you weren’t going to talk to her first, she’d do it instead.

and so began her quest, getting y/n y/ln to talk to her and hopefully become her friend.

~~

you noticed the change in jill immediately.

it seemed as though the dutch forward was tailing you every chance she got.

every corner you took she seemed to appear right in front of you, every time you glanced at her it seemed as if her eyes were already on you.

it got so bad that you tried even harder to avoid her.

for instance,

one day before training you were out on the pitch shooting from midfield and muttering game analysis under your breath when you heard a familiar, heavy dutch accent making its way through the halls.

you panicked and-

daan found you ten minutes later inside a trashcan.

needless to say you had a pretty hard time trying to explain the smell and stains on your jersey to joe later that day.

in your defense because the field was so empty, that was the only plausible option in your mind.

as time went on, it really didn’t get any better.

there was another day during training where you turned to catch a glimpse of jill only to see her eyes already on you, and you turned back so abruptly that you knocked down the entire weight rack in front of you.

jill giggled, and the rest of your teammates were rolling their eyes and collectively face palming at your stupidity.

it all came to a climax when you were on the bus to your first match of the year, and jill plopped down in the seat right by you.

your eyes widened and cheeks flushed immediately, and you trained your eyes on the seat in front of you, not daring to turn and look at the girl beside you.

“hey how are you?”

you gulped and slowly looked up at her, and you cursed internally.

she was just so unfairly attractive.

the slightly shy smile and arched eyebrow was a combination you swear only she could pull off and-

“i’m doing okay, how are you?” you managed to force out.

at least you didn’t stutter.

jill gave you a lopsided smile that made your heart skip a beat, and went on talking.

she knew you weren’t much of a talker around her, and subsequently filled up all the gaps with her rambling, something that you both appreciated and hated, as it really didn’t help the queasy feeling in your stomach.

when the bus pulled to a halt you felt like you were going to puke, and shot up out of your seat wanting to run off before you freak out, only to remember that you were in the inside seat.

jill moved slightly without hesitation, something you were more than thankful for.

she whispers a little dejectedly when you get off:

“are you sure she doesn’t hate me?”

lisa gives her a sympathetic look and smile.

“she doesn’t jill.”

“but she just-“

“trust us, she doesn’t.”

jill nods a little apprehensively, and gets up and grabs her stuff, making her way off the bus along with everyone else.

~~

during the game, jill was so distracted that she almost ran in the wrong direction.

“jill! press! now go!”

you were yelling at her from midfield, glancing all over the place as you watched every player’s movement and stance.

jill almost stumbled upon hearing your voice.

you note that she’s acting weirdly, and bring it up during a quick break while the ref is assessing a potential foul.

you catch her arm when she walks by you, an action that catches her entirely by surprise.

“hey you alright? your head is all over the place.”

jill swallows a little bit before smiling weakly and replying:

“yeah yeah i’ll be okay.”

“alright well get your head in it, you’re really talented and we really need you right now.”

you give her arm a reassuring squeeze and move to take the free kick which had just been given.

jill still stood there a little dumbfounded, its only when you snap loudly and point in the direction of the box that she remembers there’s a game going on and moves into position.

all in all, arsenal wins with an emphatic victory of 5-1.

after your duties as captain were fulfilled and you gave your post game talk, you quickly fell back into your off field self.

~~

now why was the previous bus interaction the climax?

simply put, it had been the last straw for a lot of your teammates, who were now fed up with your idiotic gay panic, and decided to do something about it.

you should’ve known something was weird when you get a text from viv reading:

“URGENT- team meeting in 15 min at me & lisa’s apartment”

you furrowed your brows in confusion.

you were the team captain and the one who called team meetings, so what was up?

also it was saturday night, couldn’t it wait?

you texted kim, the vice captain, and pretty much the only responsible adult on the team, to double check.

she replied with:

“yes- joe told us about it.”

you furrow your eyebrows again because you took your job of captain seriously and you honestly didn’t remember joe mentioning an impromptu meeting on saturday night at viv’s house.

but you made your way there just in case anyways.

when you make your way inside you glance suspiciously around the apartment and only get more confused when you see less than half the team there.

the only people there besides viv and lisa were daan and beth, caitlin and lia, leah and jordan, and katie.

by this point you should’ve known.

you open your mouth to speak but you’re cut off when daan shoves you down into a chair.

“sit.”

you shoot back up and fight her back a little bit before asking:

“guys guys guys what is going on?”

leah calmly looked at you and said:

“sit down and we’ll tell you.”

and so you begrudgingly take a seat.

lisa starts.

“alright so collectively as a group, we decided that watching you deal with jill is making us all lose brain cells.”

the group in front of you nods adamantly in agreement.

“and so we’re here to help you. to teach you how to flirt.”

you cross your arms and snort a little.

“and how are you going to do that exactly?”

“well-“

beth piped in here.

“we’re going to employ katie and have her flirt with you and teach you for the next week or so.”

you shake your head.

“katie? no i would rather go on my own thank you very-“

katie cuts in here with an offended look.

“what do you mean no?! i’m obviously the best here and-“

the room quickly broke into a loud cacophony of sound, as they began debating about katie’s comment.

its only when lisa yells for silence that everyone quiets again.

“wait how many people are in on this?” you ask suddenly.

“the whole team with the exception of jill,” leah replies offhandedly.

your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you heard this.

“is it really that bad?”

lia snorts.

“can birds fly?”

you let out a sigh.

“fine.”

you turn to katie and very adamantly say:

“but don’t you dare make it weird.”

katie holds her hands up in surrender.

~~

and so it began, your “training” as they called it.

katie, surprisingly was pretty good at what she did.

she did unfortunately call herself your flirtation sugar daddy, but that really made you uncomfortable so you avoided those terms at all costs.

so day after day, katie stuck by you and flirted with you 24/7, with occasional performance evaluations from lisa and caitlin, all who approved thus far.

on the downside, jill, who had been kept out of the loop from everything, saw this as you being interested in katie.

she wanted to tell you that katie had a girlfriend, but didn’t really know how to start that conversation without making it weird.

she couldn’t just go up to you and say, “hey i’ve been watching you flirt with katie for the last few days and just so you know she’s taken.”

so she just stood by and watched.

she did ask viv about it one day though.

“does y/n know katie has a girlfriend?”

to which viv replied:

“yup.”

“so why is she flirting with her?”

“its just for fun.”

“it doesn’t look like its for fun to me.”

viv turns and looks at her dutch teammate.

“are you jealous?”

jill almost sputters out her answer.

“wh-what no of course not! why would i be jealous?!”

viv turns to hide her smile.

“sure jill. whatever you say.”

two weeks went by, and katie was delighted by your performance.

next saturday, the ten of you met up at viv and lisa’s apartment again.

“alright so you might be asking why we’ve gathered you here today!” lisa proclaimed with a very poor attempt at victorian english.

“we’re gathered here today to-“

“oh just get on with it,” viv butts in.

lisa turns to her with a glare.

“all right all right,” viv relents.

“we’re going to assess y/n’s flirtation capabilities.”

you quirk an eyebrow.

“how are you going to do that exactly?”

“ooh we didn’t actually think that far. we’re going to ask you questions?”

“what like ask me to finish the line? like ooh girl are you from tennesse cuz you’re the only ten i see?”

lia cringes a little at that line.

“what ever you do, don’t say that.”

“mhm yeah wasn’t going t-.”

leah cuts in.

“alright the point is. just be yourself y/n. you exude confidence on the field so just bring it out when you talk to her. that’s all”

the others all nod in agreement.

“that’s it really. you can do it y/n, we all believe in you.”

“thanks guys i really appreciate it.”

“wait but i can still be your flirtation sugar da-ow! you didn’t have to all hit me!”

~~

the next day at training you were shoved and funneled in jill’s direction by almost half the team.

a particularly hard shove from daan had you slamming directly into jill.

the dutch forward turned and grabbed your waist in lightning fast speed to steady you.

your arms immediately fell to rest on hers, and you took a shallow breath in when you saw her concerned look.

“are you alright?”

“yeah i am thanks to you…”

well here goes nothing.

“…though i have to say if this is what it takes to get you to hold me i’ll gladly fall for you again.”

jill’s face was worth the burning on your cheeks.

“w-what?”

you had to admit, jill’s stutter only made her cuter.

you just gave her a wink and reluctantly pulled her arms off you.

“come on jill, we have a training session to get to.”

you gave her a final wave before you made your way out of the locker room.

jill still stood there, shocked and a little confused.

viv rolled her eyes.

“come on jill.”

and when jill didn’t move, viv just grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

later during training almost the exact same thing happens.

except this time it was more jill’s fault than yours.

she wasn’t watching where she was going and ran right into you.

your hands found their way immediately on her waist.

“is this how we’re going to meet and talk from now on?”

jill blushed and mumbled a “sorry.”

you grinned.

“don’t be, i’m kind of enjoying it, though…”

you stopped to fake pondering something.

“…i don’t know what we should do now that we’ve both fallen for each other.”

you finished your sentence with another wink, essentially rendering jill speechless.

and so, this became a trend.

you would flirt with jill, and the dutch girl would essentially just freeze up and stare at you in shock.

you thought it was cute.

jill thought it was mortifying.

she complained to viv later on.

“i can’t even flirt back what is happening to me?”

viv just gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

“that’s what we call gay panic my friend.”

jill groaned and buried her face further into her hands.

~~

“what’s a pretty lady like you doing all by yourself?”

you ask, plopping down in the empty bus seat beside her.

jill blushes and looks down at the seat in front of her.

she could barely see your playful grin out of the corner of her eye and it was enough to kick the butterflies in her stomach to a higher gear.

you had a little deja vu during the bus ride, except that in the previous predicament the roles were switched.

jill somehow managed to hold it together for the remainder of the bus ride.

it was on the pitch when jill really couldn’t take it anymore.

you didn’t even do anything, except fulfill your captain duties.

you were standing on the sideline, watching a scrimmage between lia’s team and kim’s team.

joe had asked you to sit out and assess every player’s strengths and basically coach them.

and coach them you did.

“caitlin! daan’s open on your left! and malin! cover daan better so she’s not wide open!”

you looked down to scribble notes in your note pad, and when you looked up you saw jill staring at you on the field.

“jill! focus!”

her gaze snapped back onto the game.

before the second round, you gave a bunch of pointers to both teams.

“okay so you guys are doing pretty well, just make sure to keep up your back line, don’t make it sloppy.”

and to the other:

“alright so pass accuracy is something you need to work on, because half of your passes are being intercepted at the moment which probably isn’t something you want.”

after a few minutes the teams took their places back onto the pitch and you began scribbling down a few more notes.

a pair of cleats makes their way before you, and you look up.

“what’s wr-“

jill leans down and kisses you.

you drop your notepad in surprise.

she pulls back quickly and searches your face for any sign of disgust or repulsion, and finding none, she leans in again.

this time, you met her halfway.

it was electric and a little needy, really everything you wanted a first kiss to be.

you briefly heard the cheers and clapping of your teammates, too caught up in the moment to care about anything else.

jill’s hands fell to your waist and yours rested on her cheeks.

you pulled back after what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only a couple of seconds.

“so i guess i don’t have to fall for you to hold me like that again,” you whisper.

jill giggles.

“definitely not.”

you’re silent for a few seconds, but jill beats you and breaks it first.

“you know, i thought you liked katie.”

your eyes widen in surprise, and your face quickly contorts into disgust.

“oh god no way.”

“oh that’s good.”

you ask her a little teasingly:

“why, were you jealous?”

jill scoffs a little.

“shut up.”

you arch your brow a little in challenge.

“make me then.”

jill’s eyes flash back onto your face dangerously but before she can do anything you give her a little shove back.

“now go back to your scrimmage, we’ve had them wait long enough.”

she rolls her eyes and turns back towards the pitch, and towards a hoard of your giddy teammates.

“flirtation sugar daddy for the wi-ow!”

your perfectly struck ball hits katie square in the chest and your glare cuts eliminates any objections.

still you hear her mutter:

“still if anyone needs any help with flirting i’ll be free to-“

“katie!”

“sorry sorry i’ll stop.”

[jackmfvegas777]

Trans Guy Tips #3; Testosterone HRT, How to Inject, & Its Effects On Body & Mind, Pt. 1

Note: I will likely add more sections to this at a later time, as I learn more about taking testosterone and its effects. Be sure to check back!

1. First, and this can change depending on your body type and what your own endocrinologist recommends for you,

but personally for me and for a lot of transgender men, Testosterone Cypionate, usually 200mg each dose, is the best choice, and so is taking the injection form, doing that intramuscularly, and taking them bi-weekly, meaning every other week on the exact amount of time from the time you took your last dose.

My endocrinologist explained to me that this is due to if you overload your body with testosterone constantly, or if you overdose it in an attempt to get more effects, you will instead have the opposite effect where you will instead gain estrogen, and more of it, because testosterone converts to estrogen when there's an excess of it and the body senses it as something wrong!!

So please please never take more than you are supposed to take, prescribed officially by your doctor.

They usually recommend bi-weekly for most if choosing injections, because it makes it so the testosterone spreads evenly throughout your system the entire time, and just has a very even perfect use that makes the effect stronger and it makes your body get used to it quicker, which speeds up the effects significantly, and tends to be the healthiest option.

2. Also in terms of safety, never ever get testosterone from a non-official source like the black market, online, or from a friend. You cannot trust this, as it has not been evaluated medically whatsoever.

Also, most importantly, you don't have a medical professional there to see if your hormones and all your health is correct and good to start or continue, or what dose to take, or which kind works best for your body, as well as not having any checkups, which is also vital when you take a new hormone in your body to make sure everything is balancing right!!!

So it is very dangerous, you could accidentally overdose, or your body could malfunction somehow, or you could just be injecting yourself with stuff that doesn't work ever!!

There are many things that could go wrong, so PLEASE never ever EVER do this.

Get a trans-familiar endocrinologist.

3. Now mind you, there are other options for taking T if you just cannot handle injections whatsoever.

Option one are tablets called subdermal capsules that they implant under your skin, usually under your arm or shoulder skin as it seems to spread the best that way. They will slowly leak testosterone until they replenish themselves and you have to get them replaced.

Some people praise these as they are pretty even in effects, and they make it so you have a steady supply pretty well, and also you don't have to think about it very often as the tablets last quite a while.

The downside is, that despite its evenness quality, it doesn't actually have very strong effects.

It will still give you effects for sure, but it will take a lot longer, possibly multiple years, to see the full effects of it.

There are also things known as topical testosterone, where you can put a gel or cream on yourself and it will dose you with the amount it has in it.

This is the least invasive option, however it's one with a very small amount of testosterone, so it will take some of the longest to feel, or see, effects.

Also, I have heard from some people that if you are having someone else put the gel on you, if they accidentally get it on their skin, it will literally dose them with testosterone, which is not okay if you have someone who is not trans and does not want it doing it.

So if you choose this route, please do it yourself so you're not dosing any more on to other people, and instead just on to yourself.

It also doesn't waste the dose on others that way, and you get the full effects instead.

There is also things known as oral testosterone, taken through pill form. But I have heard some bad things about these, and I have heard recommendations not to use them due to there being a lot of downsides, as it doesn't absorb into your body nearly as well as any of the other options, even the slower ones.

But really what matters is what you need, and what your body needs, so even though injections provide the most amount and the most even supply when you use them, especially bi-weekly as well, it might be different for you as every single trans guy/transmasculine person is different, physically & mentally!

And some things work better for others, so consult with your doctor, and let them know the effects and the timing you want, and they will suggest options for you if you are not able to choose yourself without assistance due to lack of knowledge etc.

I would however recommend deeply researching every section of testosterone as I did, before going to an endocrinologist, so you are very prepared and know which kind you want already which will make the appointment take less time as well.

Also you never want to rely on the information of just one person, so always research.

Don't just trust my guide immediately or anyone's guide if it's just one you read, instead do your own research on many sites & forums, and find what works for you, as I can only say what works/worked for me.

4. And when it actually comes to the fun part, the injections,

I will give you a step-by-step guide on mostly how to have someone else inject you, but you can also take my advice for injecting yourself, however I have no advice for specifics of that, such as ways to calm yourself down from queasiness when doing it yourself, since I have never injected myself due to me honestly being just a little squeamish about doing it myself.

But I've always had my mother do it, and I have watched occasionally to see how best to do it, and have experienced it quite a few times now, so I know which way is the least painful as well.

If I were ever forced to do it myself, that way I would be able to because I know how to beforehand.

Now what you do is when you pick up your prescription of Testosterone, this is assuming if you take it bi-weekly and an injection form, you get two 1 ml bottles (A month's supply) and you have to unfortunately ask for & buy the syringe that comes preloaded with the needles.

Also make sure never to ask for just a needle, cuz they will literally give you just a needle, and no syringe.

It's happened to me before, LOL.

They usually have the syringes & needles in stock almost always, but there are a few occasions where they didn't have the needles.

But it is honestly annoying having to pay for something extra when the testosterone itself doesn't cost anything, yet the injection needles you need to use it do??? Lmao.

However it's not that annoying, because they're actually relatively cheap!

Here in Nevada, with no discounts used, they usually only cost you about like $3 usually, $4 at most, so it's pretty price effective.

5. I strongly recommend this, it was my mom's edition to this by the way, she strongly recommends as well,

that you should wait at least a month before taking your first dose of T.

Even when you just received it!

The reason for this is because sometimes they will be out of testosterone or out of needles, or you won't be able to afford it for whatever reason, you never know and it's so much better to have at least 1 if not 2 backup doses and syringes + needles on hand so you never have to worry about that.

I was impatient and injected the day I got it, and so though I haven't run into a problem yet, it is stressful knowing that if a mistake happens with the injection and the fluid leaks out too much, or something happens, whatever it is, that I won't have a backup dose.

So, I would highly recommend waiting a month or even two before injecting, so you have two doses and you pick it up way before you run out every time.

That's way more efficient.

6. Now although this comes from the point of view of someone who hasn't injected themselves, and only has been injected, I pretty much know how it works so I could if I had to, I would just be squeamish.

And for a lot of people they feel the same, so it's easier to get a family member or a close friend to do it for you, as long as they're always around when you need to take your dose.

Personally I have my mom do it because she's talented at injections due to having reptiles that needed some done the same way.

So, basically, you take everything out of its containers, and make sure not to touch the needle itself ever.

Once everything's out of its containers, then make sure to test if the needle is totally closed onto the syringe.

If it is, it's good to go.

Checking the tightness of the needle is very important because if you don't, you can end up having the needle pop off inside you, and release none of the testosterone actually inside of you, wasting a dose completely & it just hurts like a SOB.

Now, take the cap off the needle.

I would recommend always sanitizing the needle, the syringe, and also having a little gauze pad or paper towel piece, all soaked with rubbing alcohol to sterilize the area you will be injecting, so there is no risk of infection at all.

Although not extremely important, I'd recommend you'd also want to bring a tiny Band-Aid.

It will be a very very tiny wound, more like a dot, but it actually bleeds quite a bit after, due to it going deep in, so it's helpful to put a Band-Aid on just for the first hour or so, then take it off and let it breathe, and it heals super quick. It'll be gone before, or by the next day, usually.

Please remember not to touch the needle ever as it'd ruin its sterilization. They're usually sterilized, but it might be a good idea to sterilize them again just in case, to basically make sure there is no risk of infection whatsoever.

Also this is just a common sense cleanliness rule,

but I still want to state it to make sure people know;

Always throw away every single needle and syringe you use, as soon as you are done using it.

Do not keep it or EVER re-inject with the same needle.

And also be sure to throw away any testosterone you have left that is excess from your dose.

You do not need that, as it goes bad and won't work after being exposed to air, so it's impossible to save and use later, unfortunately.

Now, you will be injecting intramuscularly in the leg, either leg will do, hell you can switch them up each time if you'd like. It doesn't matter much.

This means you will be injecting on the area of your thigh that is a little high up, and towards the top, but a little to the outer side.

This means the testosterone is injected straight between the muscles, and goes to the bloodstream quickly also, when you inject.

Now you want to remove the lid from the Testosterone Cypionate bottle, and shake It up very very good, so that there are no bubbles, no particles visible in the Testosterone, and no oil separation either.

If it looks completely clear, or is a slight yellowish colour but mixed together well, then you're good to go.

The possible slight yellowish color comes from the cottonseed oil that they use to store the testosterone correctly in.

It makes it to where you have to use a little bit of a bigger needle to inject yourself with, but it's actually a very very small needle and it's not painful very much at all.

A lot of myths I read about testosterone before I received it said the needles were huge and scary and painful, but the truth is they're not at all, even to me who's slightly scared of needles and has low ability to tolerate pain.

Literally, popping a zit hurts worse than the injections.

The pain is something like a very tiny ant bite, or a slight pinch on your skin, it doesn't really hurt very much at all.

In fact, whenever I take mine, even the very first time I did, I didn't even make a sound! And it's over very quickly, as well.

I would recommend for the easiest time however, for a little higher price, getting a 21 gauge syringe needle, and also an 18 gauge syringe needle for each dose you take.

The 21 gauge is larger for drawing up the testosterone from the vial easier than the 18 gauge would.

Then you remove that 21g needle from that syringe, and instead put on the 18 gauge for the actual injecting.

If you want a cheaper price tag, and/or you're just lazy like me, you can get away with using just an 18 gauge needled syringe, however it makes it much significantly harder to draw up out of the vial.

It is still quite possible, but is for sure challenging, mistakes can occur so be very careful if you choose this route.

Now when you're trying to draw up the Testosterone Cypionate out of the bottle, you want to hold it upside down, or downward at an angle kind of diagonal, and you want to make sure the needle is visibly in the liquid.

Then, you draw back slowly, but try and fill it as much as you can. You can always dispose of extra that you don't need.

If using only the 18 gauge like said earlier, which is what I personally do, it is very hard to draw up out of the bottle, so be very careful, and try to figure out the trick to it, is all I can say.

Everyone has a different trick for it.

Don't use all the testosterone in the bottle however for your actual being-injected-dose.

You need to usually use only 75 mL of the 1 ml bottle each dose.

Also before you ever inject, but after you fill the syringe, make sure to aspirate the needle, which means to act like you're injecting it, in the air pointing up, needle upwards, and you very slowly push down, which expels a little bit of the testosterone, but you also expel any air particles or bubbles that are trapped inside.

This is why you want to put a little more in the syringe than you actually will inject, because when you aspirate the needle some will leak out and make it the perfect amount to inject, rather than losing it an amount of it that you need.

If there is even a single bubble inside the syringe, that can cause a heart attack, and many other deadly problems!!!

So do not ever inject, if there is a bubble in your syringe.

If there is, best case scenario is you try to aspirate it heavily, even if you need to then refill it somewhat afterwards, the most important part is making sure no air bubbles are in it.

If there is no way to get the bubble out, you'd need to buy a new syringe, as it most likely has a deformation of some kind.

But that's the worst case scenario, and personally I haven't experienced that yet.

That, however, is why it is so important to aspirate, to make sure there's no air left in the syringe before you inject.

Now you want to make sure to get exactly .75 ml, that you put it up to the line right before 1 ml and that's about the amount you need.

And remember; never take more than prescribed, it will have the opposite affects you want.

Now that you know all the details, here is how to perform injecting the actual testosterone.

You take the needle to the sterilized area of thigh that you cleaned with the rubbing alcohol.

And you can either use a kind of sideways diagonal position to go in, or you can use straight on.

I find straight on makes it much less painful for me, so I usually go with that, but either way works, and whatever is most comfortable for you is what you should use.

Now you just go in kind of slowly, and try not to move the needle around too much, just push slowly all the way in 'till the needle is completely in the leg.

Then dispense slowly the testosterone to the intramuscular area, and once all the testosterone is out of the syringe and inside your bloodstream, pull it out very slowly, all the while holding the skin around it firmly, so that it doesn't hurt as much pulling it out. If you pull it out fast it fuckin' hurts.

You can also sterilize the area of injection again, if you want, but it's not really necessary.

Then, you just put that Band-Aid previously mentioned on, for like an hour, and you're good!

7. Now for the effects of testosterone, though I don't have a perfect timeline. But around one DAY in, I noticed for some reason my clitoral growth where your clitoris pretty much changes into a tiny penis except the urethra doesn't move unfortunately without surgery.

It can grow one to two inches at max, although I have not experienced that much yet.

However for some reason I had definitely experienced minor clitoral growth pretty much as soon as I took my first shot of testosterone, which is incredibly rare, as it's supposed to happen six months to a year in and be one of the later effects!! But for some reason, it was the first effect I got, so that really goes to show that everyone is built quite different, so some things in this guide might not be totally accurate for everyone.

1 week in, I started experiencing a very hoarse voice, not a sore throat or anything, but just where your voice sounds like you're sick or you're losing your voice, for some reason.

This is the first step in your voice changing to a deeper baritone.

It's usually not painful whatsoever, but I have heard from some people that it can irritate their throat occasionally due to the foreign feeling of it, this stage doesn't last very long though.

Then, about 1 month in, I started noticing extensive hair growth. Also I seem to have got way darker hair than any of my family members ever had, and way more hair than they ever had, so you can't totally rely on the predictions of what your family looks like to see how you're going to change.

You kind of have to be ready for anything to happen, but usually the hair growth and the masculinity of your family will almost always pass on to you when you transition physically.

This can even include male pattern baldness eventually.

Sometimes it happens to trans men immediately after taking it, other times it will take years and other times it will be when they're elderly like cis men have.

Personally, I have not seen any male pattern baldness yet, however my front l of my hair slightly receded back and in the shape of male members of my dad's side of my family, but nothing like a total receding hairline.

It still looks like a full head of hair!

Usually you can tell what type of hair you get by looking at your family members closely.

If your family includes a lot of thick hairy people naturally, then you are going to usually get very large amounts of hair.

If you have a family with barely any hair, or very light coloured hair, you'll usually get a small amount of hair or a large amount of hair but with light colour. Personally, I got real lucky so it's clear that there are exceptions, but that's usually how it goes is that you can look to your family members as to how you're going to look and sound like.

About 3 months in, my voice started really deepening and I mean really deep. But the funny thing about it is that sometimes it will switch from being really low and masculine and amazing, to being kind of regular like before, to a little low but not super low, and even to what I call the "permanent helium" which makes you literally sound like you inhaled helium but it's literally just your vocal cords cracking that bad from growing to a male length.

Sometimes it will crack in a way where you can't stop talking in that high pitch, and it's really awkward, but it is also really funny if you learn to laugh at yourself, and always remind yourself that this is the process of gaining a deeper voice.

I have heard that vocal training to make your voice deeper also helps exponentially for more effects if you want a super deep voice.

About 4 to 5 months in, which is where I'm currently at, I've experienced way more hair growth!

Even more so than the start of it.

My head hair seems to be thicker and healthier for some reason, I'm not sure why because I have never heard of that affecting your head hair, its texture, or its thickness like that?

But it seems to have happened, so I guess it's possible?

I'm gaining a moustache and a few beard hairs, but mainly my moustache is super dark and already very visible.

Also due to my moustache and my deep voice alone, now I can already pass pretty much 100% of the time if maybe 99%, and I'm a very naturally baby-faced person too, so that's impressive!

My voice is mainly settled into a pretty deep baritone.

It still has a little bit of a high pitch sometimes, but barely.

I can tell there's a little more progress needed, but not much.

I don't do the helium thing as much as I used to, but it does still occasionally occur as lengthening your vocal cords, which is what occurs when you take testosterone, can be a lengthy and frustrating process at times.

I have also specifically seen lots of body hair at this time, way more than the sparse amount at first, including even a happy trail and a little bit of chest hair although it's not noticeable yet unless you squint, but it still has way more than I used to!

Also my hair on my arms, and especially on my legs, is thick, dark and everywhere.

I've also noticed my fat is starting tk begin redistributing a little bit.

It's not totally doing it yet, but it's getting close, as my thighs, hips, and behind area lost a bunch of weight, while my stomach gained a little bit of weight and so did my arms.

I also gained a fair bit of muscle as not only can I see it when I flex, but also I can lift things a little easier than I used to, and muscle seems to develop easier for me, even when I work out barely.

I've never been a very physical person, so it's still hard, but it's way easier now that I take testosterone.

Those are all the effects I have to record right now, as I'm only 4-5 months in, but I will update this with new parts as I experience more and more.

Also, please take all effects and timelines with a grain of salt, because everybody works differently.

Also I specifically was mentioning Testosterone Cypionate, bi-weekly injection form, so if you take testosterone in a different way, some of this might be different, irrelevant or even completely useless to you, but I am only able to provide information on these forms as they're the only form I've taken of it myself.

Now, to quickly dispel a few stupid myths that circulate around taking testosterone, to ease your worries.

Myth #1. "Testosterone makes you aggressive, violent, and a bad person!"

The truth is that testosterone does not change who you are, whatsoever.

It can however change certain little preferences like for example what flavor food you like will sometimes change, but usually not all foods, just a couple, or sometimes even just one.

It can change little tiny details, like maybe your favorite colour may change, and it definitely does have its emotional effects for sure, but it does not make anyone aggressive or violent automatically.

Testosterone is not an angry hormone, and estrogen is not a peaceful hormone, despite what most people stereotype them as being, so just blanketing everyone under the term of "aggressive" because they have testosterone in them is straight-up incorrect at best, and also sexist at worst.

Estrogen is not better than testosterone. Testosterone is not better than estrogen. It just matters what you want in your body.

What it may actually do is sometimes, people will experience a wide variety of emotions, including extreme euphoria and confidence (that's the effect I seem to have had, thankfully!)

Other people however will get very emotional and sad and will cry over things easier, and no, that's not an estrogen trait, testosterone can do that too.

And sometimes, on a rare occasion, people can get more irritable or cranky. But they're never violent.

They just get a little grumpier than usual.

However, all these emotional effects eventually do phase out and stabilize, and you'll be back to all your regular moods.

You never truly change who you are as an individual, and your beliefs and morals will stay the same.

It's not like you will completely change into a different person, you will never have to fear that, nor should any of your family and friends.

Myth #2. "Testosterone is steroids, right? So doesn't that mean that you're stronger than everyone else?"

This is a ridiculous notion, and I'm not even sure how it got spread im the first place, but I've heard it firsthand, and it's really as stupid as it sounds.

Testosterone is not steroids, they may have some similar properties due to chemical makeup, but they are not in any way steroids.

Steroids are an addictive & potentially harmful drug. Testosterone is a naturally occuring hormone that we all have some of.

For instance, testosterone also does not make you any more muscular just automatically.

It can make you a little more muscled subtly due to the muscle structure changing to that of a cis man's, but it can't straight up make you jacked, that's just not possible.

Also it does not make you any stronger than anyone else.

It might make you a little stronger than a cis female, but you are not stronger than a cis man, in fact you're weaker, due to starting out assigned female at birth.

I'm not sure why people assume that if you take testosterone, that means you're strong??

Because you're taking testosterone because you don't have any so clearly you don't have very much.

I'm not totally sure where this silly notion got spread, possibly as a way to make trans people feel guilty for taking T, by making them think it's a drug, and it's just not when you look at the facts.

It's good to dissuade folks who think this way, from this notion, as it can also make us look like drug addicts or on steroid pills, which both are just completely false.

Testosterone is not even addictive.

It's a natural hormone inside your body.

Myth #3. "Testosterone will give you all forms of cancer, and strokes and heart attacks, almost certainly!"

I'm not sure where or how this got spread either, it is true that it is possible, they said, in a scientific study, that they can't confirm completely that it could theoretically make your chances of stroke and heart attack a little higher due to your system basically changing to that of a cis man's, and going through a cis man's puberty.

But honestly, you have less risk of strokes and heart attacks than even cis men do, and you don't have a prostate which is a common location for men to get cancer, so you actually have an advantage over most!

It's very rare that you would ever come into contact with one of these things happening, pretty much as rare if a little less as it would be if you didn't take T at all.

There is also no evidence whatsoever that testosterone causes cancer, of any kind, let alone all of them.

A lot of people have tried to spread this rumour, to stop people from getting HRT treatment, which is really cruel and fucked up, and a lot of parents will use the "cancer" excuse as a way to not give their child HRT.

The truth is that it does not cause cancer, and that is a complete myth.

There's actually some evidence that being on T might improve your chances of fighting cancer, and having a stronger immune system for it as well.

Myth #4. This kind of goes along with the other one, but some people believe that "If you take testosterone, you could be shortening your lifespan by many years!!"

This is complete speculation, nothing has been confirmed.

It's possible, perhaps, that it could shorten your lifespan by a couple years, but not many.

You still would have an advantage over cis men again.

But it's never been truly proved that your lifespan gets shorter from T, so there is no reason to fear less of your life occuring just because you're trying to make yourself happier.

All right, I think that's all the rumours I can set straight, and all the info & advice about injections and medicine and general information about testosterone that I can give you at the moment.

I will update this post later, so please check back again in maybe a few month's time from now, as then I will have more effects to discuss.

But if I want to leave you with anything to think about,

remember that testosterone is a completely safe and natural chemical hormone that produces itself in your body already.

You just don't have enough of it to look the masculine way you want to.

It is not dangerous, it won't hurt you and if you really want it, go after it!!

But I would also very much advise you to be sure you want to go ahead with it, and that you are okay with all effects happening.

Because if you aren't, if you are even the least bit hesitant, not only will the doctor not allow you to proceed because you are not mentally fit to yet,

but also if you did end up taking testosterone then you could end up getting effects that you don't want, and having them be permanent, and causing you dysphoria for the rest of your life.

So please, make sure to know yourself well, and know your wants and needs clearly.

I also highly recommend having a psychiatrist or a mental health therapist for quite a while before going into testosterone therapy.

Not only does it make you more qualified to acquire testosterone because it shows you actually thought it through, but also it is exceedingly helpful for the mental and physical changes you will be proceeding with over these next years.

The last thing I want to say, my closing note, is congratulations on your testosterone, if you received it!

And I hope my guide helped in any way, and apologies if it ended up really long this time, there's a lot of things you need to know about T.

Thank you for reading, and I hope this humble trans guy's journal entries help you at all.

- Atom T. L. Yorke