#To think I used to think myself unemotional!

[dyed-petals]

I wish I could fit into a poem,

how every year, without fail,

The first time I listen to the Nutcracker all the way through,

I just cry.

I think if I could,

it would be a very long poem

and take two decades to read

with a practical componant

and over a hundred repeats.

It’s not a poem I could write;

I’m no god.

But someone out there must be,

and must have,

for I’ve read it.

And every year I can’t explain why it makes me cry.

I hope I’m not done reading.

[shinkei-shinto]

vent tags below I do not suggest that you read them

[demilypyro]

I used to be a very unemotive person before I transitioned but in recent years emotions have become a lot more intense and they make it to my face a lot easier. Sometimes I'll think of something funny and just full on laugh to myself like an idiot like

[so-i-did-this-thing]

how did you get brave enough to come out publicly? i'm 41 and i still wear makeup to work because they all think i'm a girl there and i'm too scared to correct them.

It's spite towards those who insist we set ourselves on fire to keep them warm. So much spite.

As I'm sure you know, we never come out just once. By about the 15th time or so, I had noticed that I was still trying to make myself small and acceptable, by coming out slowly and with a long, tragic backstory as to why I was transitioning.

Something snapped in me and my coming out emails stopped implicitly asking for permission. Paragraphs of glurge were reduced overnight to, "I am in the process of changing my legal name and gender. Moving forward, I can be referred to as [name] and will be using [pronouns]."

In the office setting, I checked in with my manager to see if we needed a communication plan with coworkers and clients when I finally changed my legal name. But that was it. I stopped feeling like I had to explain myself to cis people. (I did, however prepare myself to document any harassment to report to HR, and was already preparing to change jobs, albeit for other reasons.)

I decided I would no longer live for the comfort of people who probably wouldn't like me for other reasons. I'm not super out to everyone, but it's an option in my pocket when I feel like I need to make a point.

I embarass easily still - my ears go red at the drop of a hat - and it takes practice to push through the shocked looks and the inevitable being undressed by someone's eyes once they know. But I act nonchalant out of spite, because normalcy tends to piss off the transphobes more than anything else.

My advice for you is to always prioritize your safety and to have a Plan B if things go sour, but to cultivate a very direct and unemotional "hey, this is happening fyi" attitude that wards off attempts to make you small ever again.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Nova Genesis

Part Two

Summary: disgruntled with the decision to return to Earth, who knows what the prisoners aboard will do to cling to their false freedom. And who will get mixed up with it | Word Count: 5.5k~ | Warnings: smut, p in v sex, dubcon, choking, degradation, blood, murder, threatening behaviour

She blinked hard, having stared at the blue, intrusive light of her computer screen for what seemed like hours now. Pressing the heels of her palms against her lids provided some relief to the thudding in her temples, but not nearly enough. This place was suffocating. And she briefly wondered how on Earth the prisoners had lasted as long as they had without going completely insane. She closed her laptop in a huff, her report written, a script planned out in her head for what she would tell Dr Dibs. She steeled herself, preparing for any reaction, her shoes plodding on the linoleum floor, every step echoing her growing apprehension, but she knew this conversation with her was inevitable. The dim lights in the corridor flickered as she reached the door. She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before entering.

Inside, Dibs was hunched over a tray of instruments, methodically wiping each one with a clinical precision that made her skin crawl. The doctor didn’t look up, her voice calm, almost detached.

“You’re here to tell me it’s over, aren’t you?”

Even the tone she used seemed unemotional, a stark contrast to the mess she had been when they had first arrived and broke into their systems, destroying samples. She held her breath, “Yes. The investigation is wrapping up. We’ve gathered enough evidence to ensure this project is shut down. The prisoners will be returned to Earth.”

Dr Dibs shook her head, placing a gleaming scalpel on her table before moving to the next. “And you think that’s a good idea? Bringing them back?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

Dibs finally looked up, her eyes dark with something unreadable. “No, I suppose it doesn’t,” she mused, before her lips turned into a small, cynical smile.  “They’ll tear each other apart before you even reach the atmosphere.”

Her stomach churned with unease at her words, though she tried not to show it on her face that the doctor had managed to make her uncomfortable. There was, of course, a whispering of rebellion amongst those who didn’t want to go back, she knew that. But naively perhaps, thought it would go no further than a few choice words. 

“An announcement will be made shortly. I suggest you prepare yourself for the outcome.”

“Prepare myself?” she echoed, her voice dripping with irony. “It’s you and your team who should be preparing. Once you announce their return to Earth, you’ll be the only thing standing between them and their worst nightmares.”

The prisoners were gathered in the central area of the ship, their eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and suspicion as she stood before them, report in hand, flanked by guards. The air was thick with tension, the kind that makes every breath feel weighted. Each gaze was filled with distrust, hatred almost, all except one, half-lidded with amusement. She took a deep breath, projecting as much authority as she could muster. 

“After thorough consideration and investigation from our colleagues, it has been decided that this mission will be terminated, and all of you will be returned to Earth.”

A murmur spread through the crowd, a mix of surprise, disbelief, and anger. Monte stepped forward, his face a mask of barely contained fury.

“I’m not going back to Earth, not like this. You’re sending us back to rot in a cage, to be paraded around like freaks. We’re not going back. Not all of us.”

“This isn’t up for debate. The decision has been made,” she repeated, her voice firm though her heart pounded against her ribs.

Monte's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white as the tension in the room thickened. His fury, barely held in check, finally broke through, spilling over like a dammed river and before anyone could react, he lunged forward, knocking over the nearest table with a force that sent equipment clattering to the floor. Other prisoners, emboldened by his defiance, began to move as well, their voices rising in a chaotic blend of anger and desperation. Chairs were overturned, shouts echoed off the metallic walls, and the guards tensed, readying themselves for violence.

“You’re sentencing us to worse than death!” Monte roared, his voice booming above the growing chaos. “You’re no better than the people who sent us up here in the first place!”

No. She thought. I’m a lawyer, I’m helping them. Surely.

She could not think why they would be so desperate to stay. So eager to die up here where nobody could find them, or even know where they were. But seeing the sheer determination in some of their looks, she briefly understood.

These people want to disappear.

Her hand hovered near her comms device, but she knew calling for more backup would escalate the situation further. But the guards, finally springing into action, moved to subdue Monte as he approached, and the other prisoners stepped in, creating a human barrier. The room descended into utter chaos as shoves turned into punches, and the violence spread like wildfire.

Across the room, Ettore leaned casually against the wall, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he watched the chaos unfold. His eyes locked onto hers from across the room, and for a brief moment, amidst the turmoil, their gazes held. There was something predatory in his expression, a dark amusement at her situation, as if he was enjoying the spectacle of her losing control.

“You think you can control us?” Monte snarled, his body wedged between two guards. “You think you can just send us back to that hellhole?”

With her heart hammering in her chest, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. She tore her eyes away from Monte’s seething form, only to find Ettore still watching her, his expression unreadable. She turned sharply on her heel, retreating to the relative safety of her team, her mind spinning. In the midst of the chaos, one thought lingered in her mind. Ettore’s smirk, his gaze that seemed to pierce through it all, as if he was waiting for her to slip.

Waiting for the vulnerability he was sure was going to rear its head.

Mink sidled up to Ettore, her expression serious as she glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, filled with concern. “Monte’s losing it. You can see that, right?”

Ettore didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still following the path she had taken as she retreated with her team. The smirk from earlier lingered faintly on his lips, but there was something darker beneath it. He turned to Mink, his voice detached. “Monte’s been on edge since day one. Today just gave him the excuse he’s been waiting for.”

“He’s desperate. Desperate people do stupid things. What happens when she figures out what’s really going on here? If this blows up, they’ll throw us all under the bus.” 

"Whether it’s Monte that takes us out or Earth, doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?"

Her jaw tightened, frustration flickering across her face. “And what about you? What’s your angle in all this? Are you just going to sit back and watch him burn everything down?”

His gaze darkened as he thought about her, like the snuff of a candle, his blue eyes went near-black. There was something about the way she held herself, the way she looked at him, that intrigued him more than he wanted to admit. She had a confidence, a belief in her own righteousness that he found almost laughable. Yet, underneath it all, he could sense the tension, the fear she tried so hard to mask. He’d seen that look before, on other women, other people, just before they broke.

"Maybe I’ll just sit back and watch," Ettore finally answered. "Or maybe I’ll give her a little push, see how far she can really go before she snaps."

The door pressed shut behind her as she pushed into her quarters for the evening, still dressed even at such a late hour. She carried the day’s stress with the tension in her shoulders. If she focuses hard enough, she can still grip the panic she felt earlier that day when the prisoners had all turned on her and her staff. She kicked off her shoes, the tension in her shoulders momentarily easing as she stretched out her feet. The dim lights overhead cast a warm, soft glow over the small, sterile space. A brief respite.

As she was about to take a breath and unwind, everything went dark. The ship's systems cut out abruptly, plunging the room into an oppressive, suffocating silence. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she was enveloped in complete darkness. No emergency lights. No familiar hum of the ship's engines. Just an endless, empty, nothingness.

She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, the blackness so absolute it felt as if the walls were closing in around her. Panic began to creep in, but she forced herself to stay calm. The air felt heavy, thick with an unnatural stillness that made her skin prickle.

“Stay calm,” she whispered to herself, reaching out for something, anything, to ground her. But her fingers met only empty space. She knew the layout of her quarters, could navigate it with her eyes closed, but the utter darkness was disorienting. She felt her way along the wall, her fingertips brushing against the cold metal, her breath quickening with each step.

The thought that this wasn’t an accident slithered into her mind. Could this be sabotage? A prelude to something worse? The faces of the prisoners flashed in her mind. Monte’s fury. Ettore’s unsettling calm, and a chill ran down her spine.

Her breath hitched as she considered the possibilities. The ship wasn’t supposed to fail like this. Not without warning. Not without backup systems kicking in. She reached for the small comms device, fumbling in the darkness, but the screen remained dead.

She was alone, blind, and utterly vulnerable.

Heart pounding in her chest, her hand gripped the door frame of her quarters as she cautiously stepped out into the pitch-black corridor. The darkness was suffocating, every sound amplified, her senses on high alert. She moved quietly, trying to navigate the ship's labyrinth passageways by memory.

The path she was taking should have led her to the guards’ station, but the disorienting blackness made it impossible to be sure. She fought down the rising panic, forcing herself to focus. She couldn’t afford to get lost. Not with people she knew loathed her, possibly lurking about in the adjoined ship.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally stumbled upon the entrance to the guards’ station. Relief washed over her as she pushed open the door, expecting to find safety within. Her foot slipped, and the metallic scent of something deep filled her nose, sharp and acrid. It was only when her foot caught on something soft and unmoving that she stifled a gasp, her hand flying to her mouth to keep from making a sound.

She took a step back, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to put distance between herself and the grisly reality. Her mind raced, trying to process the horror of it all. How had this happened? Who could have done this?

With trembling hands, she eased herself to the floor, her hand patting over the body of one of the guards until she found her target. The gun felt too large in her hand as she picked it up. The cold weight of the weapon in her grasp was both alien and strangely comforting. She wasn’t trained for this, but she wasn’t about to be caught unarmed.

“WHERE ARE YOU, YOU BITCH?!”

She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The voice was close, too close. And oh so familiar. Her heart thundered in her chest as she gripped the gun tighter, backing up against the wall, her pulse racing. Fear threatened to consume her, but she forced herself to stay calm, to think.

Monte was out there, hunting her.

She could recognize that voice anywhere, the fury behind it unmistakable. He’d gone into her room and discovered she wasn’t there, and now he was hunting her down with a vengeance. Thank God she’d kicked off her shoes. The thought flashed through her mind as she pressed herself against the cold metal wall, her breathing shallow, trying to remain as silent as possible. Without the squeak of her trainers on the floor, she had a chance, however slim, of slipping away unnoticed.

The darkness was both her enemy and her ally. It masked her movements, but it also made every step fraught with the risk of revealing her position. She had no idea where Monte was now, only that he was close, and that his rage was palpable, even through the thick walls of the ship.

Monte’s voice echoed again, closer this time, filled with venom. “WHERE ARE YOU!”

The darkness was suffocating as she crossed into the prison ship, the stale air thick with tension. She prayed Monte wouldn’t think to look for her here. The ship's unfamiliar layout was like a labyrinth of potential traps. Every step felt like it could be her last, each sound amplified in the oppressive silence.

She stumbled into the rec room, her heart pounding against her ribs. She backed up slowly, her senses heightened, straining to catch any sound of Monte’s approach.

And then she heard it, the sound of deliberate footsteps. Monte was getting closer. She couldn’t see him yet, but she knew he was near, racing down the hall towards the rec room, the door luckily closing softly shut to note she had not been near. But all the same, the fear lingered.

Backing up, she collided with something solid. Her first instinct was to scream, but before she could make a sound, a strong hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the cry. She was shoved against the cold metal wall, her back pressed firmly against it as a tall figure loomed over her. Her heart raced, terror surging through her.

“Shh,” he whispered, his breath warm against her cheek.

Ettore.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the air thick with a tension that was both terrifying and oddly charged. She didn’t dare move, her breath shallow and trembling against his hand. He leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing her ear as he whispered. 

“Stay quiet, and maybe we’ll both make it out of this.”

She nodded slightly, in no position to argue or protest. His voice was a low, dangerous murmur, but there was something almost protective in the way he held her, his body shielding hers from the imminent threat. It was a strange, twisted sense of security, and despite the circumstances, she found herself clinging to it.

Monte stormed into the room, his heavy footsteps echoing through the pitch-black space. The door slammed against the wall, the sound reverberating through the silence. Her entire body tensed, a wave of raw terror gripping her as she pressed herself against the wall, wishing she could melt into it and disappear.

She had never been more scared in her life. The darkness was all-consuming, robbing her of her senses. She couldn’t see Monte, couldn’t gauge his distance or his intentions. All she knew was that he was close, far too close. 

Ettore’s hand remained firmly over her mouth, his grip steady but not harsh. She could feel the rough texture of his palm against her lips, could almost feel the thudding of his own heart against hers, and she fought to keep her breathing steady, her panic threatening to break through. For the first time, she was thankful for the darkness, for the inability to be seen, but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, blurring what little she could make out in the blackness.

Monte’s voice boomed through the room, a raw, violent shout that made her flinch involuntarily. “Where the fuck are you, you bitch? You think you can hide from me?”

Her tears spilled over, silently sliding down her cheeks, and Ettore’s hand, still covering her mouth, felt the wetness. She didn’t know if it was fear, hopelessness, or the sheer weight of the situation crashing down on her, but she couldn’t stop the silent flow.

She tried desperately to make out Ettore’s face, to find some anchor in the overwhelming darkness, but it was impossible. He was just a shadow, a vague outline she could barely discern, his presence more felt than seen.

Monte’s footsteps grew closer, his breathing heavy and erratic as he stalked through the room, searching for her. She could feel Ettore’s grip tighten slightly, a silent reassurance or perhaps a warning to stay silent. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might give them away.

The sound of Monte’s boots scuffing against the floorboards seemed deafening in the darkness. The tension was unbearable, a taut line ready to snap at any moment. Monte cursed under his breath and turned away, his footsteps retreating as he left the room. The door slammed shut behind him, and the oppressive silence that followed was almost worse than his presence. She didn’t dare move, not even to breathe, until she was sure he was gone.

“Jesus…” she whispered in relief when Ettore’s palm dropped from her lips. She expected him to move away, for them to find some way of escape.

But his hand, once firm over her mouth, slowly slid down to her neck, his fingers curling around the sensitive skin, holding her in place. The touch was no longer just about silence, it was possessive, controlling. She could feel his breath against her ear, slow and deliberate, as the tension between them morphed into something darker, more dangerous.

Her heart raced for a different reason now, a confusing mix of fear and something else, something she didn’t want to acknowledge. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, tracing the line of her waist before cupping her womanhood through her jeans. She gasped softly, the sound barely escaping her lips, but it was enough to let him know that she was fully aware of his intentions.

In the darkness, with Monte gone, the only thing she could see was his outline, and the only thing she could feel was the slow, purposeful movement of his hands. He held her firmly against the wall, his grip on her neck tightening just enough to remind her who was in control.

His hand applied just enough pressure to make her pulse quicken. "You're shaking," he noted, his tone almost mocking. "Is it fear, or something else?"

She could tell from his tone, he was loving this. Amused by her fear and helplessness. He enjoyed far too much the feeling of having someone’s life and control in his hand. 

"Tell me, are you scared of what I might do? Or are you more afraid of how much you might want it?"

Her breath hitched, the question slicing through her like a knife. After a moment that felt like an eternity, she finally found her voice, though it was barely more than a whisper. “I'm not scared and I don't want you-”

The lie hung heavy in the air between them, and Ettore chuckled darkly, his free hand sliding down her body. He didn't believe her for a second, and she could tell.

His fingers deftly found the button of her jeans, and with a single, practiced motion, he popped it open. “So if I touch you here,” he whispered, his hand sliding beneath, “you won’t be wet?”

All it took was his fingers to dip beneath her underwear, sliding between her folds to collect her arousal on his fingertips, for her to freeze, the realisation dawning darkly that his presence in the darkness, his grip on her, and his words, were all having the effect she wanted least to happen.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the involuntary reaction that coursed through her as he drifted north to circle her clit with ease.

“You’re not the woman I thought you’d be,” he continued, his tone mocking. “Say you're a professional? You're a fucking liar.”

Once again, she tried to make out his face. Trying to imagine his expression. She was convinced he could somehow see hers as he pushed forward, stretching her hot walls around his fingers to harshly fuck her with his fingers, as if testing the dangerous waters.

Her hand clamped on his wrist. She wanted him to stop. She wanted him to carry on. The darkness was doing her indecision no favours whatsoever, blurring her common sense.

He bruised his body against hers, pinning her even more firmly to the wall. The sound of her moisture clicking against his skin both erotic and a terrifying reminder of how her control had waned.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenged, his voice low, a whisper that curled around her like smoke. “But you won’t, will you?”

Her voice came a shaky whisper, an attempt to grapple back that sense of self she felt was swiftly slipping. But her tone betrayed the conflict raging inside her. “You…don't know me-” she strained to say, wincing as she felt the rough pads of his fingers brush the front of her walls.

She felt his breath, amused against her face. Ettore’s response was a low, mocking chuckle. “Maybe not,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear, “but I know enough.”

Her whine was low as his fingers left her, but her heart stuttered in place when he rolled her jeans over her hips, taking her underwear with it. His knee harshly nudged her legs apart so she couldn't close them, before moving his sweatpants down just enough, his breath hot against her neck, where his palm still pressed.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He knew enough about her to know that at this moment, she wouldn't stop him. Perhaps, couldn't. If she even tried. She choked air out her lungs when his chest pressed against hers, one hand pulling her leg over his hip to angle her up.

And the sharp pang of panic when she felt the blunt head of his cock press into her. She felt herself starting to say ‘no’, but all words died on her lips as she felt him stretch her open on his length, disappearing inside her with barely a sound of his own.

It was sharp and biting, the pain initially. If it could have been called foreplay, none of it had really been for her in any case, so she felt every inch of him. And she winced, eyes pressing shut when his pace was immediately brutal, snapping against her hips with commanding intensity.

All she could do was press her fingernails into his arm, try and share some pain with him in some twisted way. That's the only sound he made, was a low groan, his grip around her throat tightening to feel the rapid thrum of her pulse.

She hated it. Hated giving him this…sick sense of control over her. Knowing that he would be much too proud and one track minded to stop until he'd come, she thought, get it over with.

She clenched around him, hard. Wanting him to lose it himself and just finish what he started. And when she felt his breath catch, she smirked in victory, until his hand raised to her face, pushing her head harshly back, her jaw anchored in his grip.

“No you don't, you fucking bitch,” he breathed, low and dangerous in a way that made her heart freeze. “Think you can rush me?”

The smirk that had momentarily crossed her lips vanished as she realised how deeply she had miscalculated. Ettore wasn’t going to simply take what he wanted and be done. He was going to make her feel every second of it, make her pay for that brief moment of defiance.

“You’re going to come on my dick, and when you do, you’ll sound pathetic. Just like you are.”

It was fucking annoying, was all she thought, that when he renewed his pace to borderline erratic, the pain ebbed into sharp pleasure. The hand that held her leg around his waist drifted inwards, clumsily circled her clit, too quickly and firmly to feel entirely pleasurable, but just enough combined with his relentless assault to send her spiralling.

Her breath hitched, and she felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, more from frustration and rage than anything else. He could feel it too, how close she was to breaking, how her body betrayed her resolve. Ettore revelled in it, every small tremble, every shaky breath, feeding his twisted need to dominate.

He pressed her sensitive bundle of nerves like he hated her, and it was enough to send a full body shudder from the top of her spine right through her core. He only let out a breath of smug relief feeling her walls clamp him in, tending uncontrollably around him.

The room was silent except for the harsh breaths they both struggled to catch. The darkness around her seemed to close in, the only light left in the room the fading stars behind her vision. As the reality of what had just happened began to set in, she felt Ettore’s body still against hers, the warmth of him inside her chasing away the numbness that had momentarily overtaken her.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, with a surge of disgust and anger, she pushed against his chest, forcing him away from her. Her hands trembled as she scrambled to right her clothes, feeling hot in her chest with shame. Ettore staggered back, and she could practically feel his smug grin in the darkness. He adjusted himself with a deliberate slowness, clearly savouring the moment. His breathing was still laboured, but there was an unmistakable air of satisfaction surrounding him.

“No use fighting it,” he murmured, amusement seeping into every word.

She scoffed, her hands fumbling with the buttons of her jeans. “Dick,” she muttered under her breath, the word laced with a mix of anger and frustration.

Ettore’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Call me what you want. You know I’m the only one who can get you through this. You need me. Whether you like it or not.”

The emergency lights flickered on, casting a dim, flickering glow over the room. The sudden illumination was a relief, pulling her back from the suffocating grip of darkness. She could finally see again, the oppressive void around her receding. The sight of Ettore standing there, so smug and composed, sent a wave of shame crashing over her. Disgust curled in her stomach, twisting alongside a sick sense of arousal she couldn’t fully suppress.

But like a cold slap to the face, she knew Monte was still out there, stalking the ship, hunting her down. And now, with the lights on, it would be easier for him to find her. |It was a jolt, reigniting the fear she had momentarily pushed aside amidst the dull haze of thrumming pleasure. 

Ettore seemed to sense her shift in focus, his smirk fading into something more serious. "He’s not far," he said, his voice low and measured. “Stick with me. I know a quick way back.”

She didn’t respond, her mind racing. The thought of Monte finding her now, after everything, sent a fresh wave of terror through her. As much as she despised the idea, as much as she loathed Ettore for what he'd done, he was her best chance at survival. But how could she, with everything she knew and everything she had just experienced, possibly trust him?

Was the onus on her? For allowing him to do what he did? For the way she had let him touch her, for the strange, conflicted sensations she had felt?

Before she could dwell on it further, Ettore yanked her forcefully, snapping her back to the present. They had to move quickly. The urgency in his grip was impossible to ignore, and in the rush, she realised too late that she had forgotten to feel for her gun.

They hurried through the narrow corridors, the cold metal walls echoing with the distant sounds of chaos. When they finally reached the entrance to her team’s ship, he pulled her inside with a final, rough tug. Panting, she glanced around the familiar interior of the vessel, trying to steady herself. Ettore didn’t waste a moment.

“Do you have the authority to access the emergency autopilot system?” he asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the haze of fear and confusion.

She hesitated for just a second. “Yes, but what about everyone else? We can’t just leave them.”

“There’s no time,” he shot back, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach drop. “Monte’s not going to stop until he finds you, and when he does, you’re dead. We need to get off this ship now.”

Her hands shook as she moved toward the control panel, the reality of the situation weighing heavily on her. She could feel Ettore’s gaze on her, urging her to move faster, to make the choice she knew she had to make. The ship’s systems roared to life, as did the alarms, signalling their imminent departure from the prison ship. For a brief, harrowing moment, she could hear Monte’s voice echoing through the corridor, filled with rage, mingling with the desperate shouts of others. But then the door hissed shut, sealing them off from the chaos outside.

Ettore was already behind her, his presence looming, suffocating in the small space. “Control Room. Now,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Panic surged through her, her mind racing as she obeyed, her steps hurried and frantic. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t process the fact that a dangerous criminal was now alone with her on her ship. Panic pushed her forward instead. Primal and urgent.

Once there, her mind scrambled for any option, any way to get the ones who wanted to return to Earth safely off the prison ship. “We can’t just leave them behind,” she stammered, turning, desperation clear in her voice. “There are others who want to return-”

Her blood ran cold as she whipped back at him, he stood tall, almost proud, holding a gun to her face. A brief, fleeting thought roared through her mind that she doubted it was loaded, but she dare not entertain it right now. Not when fear gripped her ribs. 

Her own gun. She knew the second she went to feel for it. 

He’d stolen it during her moment of weakness.

Ettore smirked, his expression infuriatingly smug. “No hard feelings,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Her heart raced with a potent mix of anger and terror. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She had come here with the intention of doing good, of offering these people a chance at redemption or at least a fair trial. And now, what had she done? She’d left behind an entire ship of prisoners, all so she could be trapped here, alone, with him.

She stared at Ettore, her mind swirling with a thousand conflicting emotions. The anger bubbling up inside her was nearly as strong as the fear. How had it come to this? How had she let herself be so easily manipulated, so trapped?

“Here’s how this is going to work,” he said, his tone all business now, as if he were discussing a simple transaction. “You’re going to take me back to Earth, and when we get there, you’re going to make sure I live a nice, cushy life. No more cells, no more guards, just freedom. I’m sure a smart woman like you can figure out how to make that happen.”

She opened her mouth to protest, to argue, but the cold, unyielding barrel of the gun in his hand kept her silent.

“And in return,” he continued, his eyes darkening with a twisted sort of pleasure, “we’ll have some fun on the way back. You’ll make sure of that too, won’t you?” 

Anger and fear warred within her, but the sharp edge of reality kept her from saying anything that might push him further. She felt utterly trapped, forced into a role she never imagined she’d play. The man in front of her was dangerous, and there was no telling what he would do if she refused.

Ettore’s smirk softened, just a little, as if he could sense her internal struggle. “You’re smart. You know what the right choice is.” 

She wanted to scream, to cry out in frustration and fear. A dark, violent urge flared within her, the impulse to bash him over the head, to kill him and be done with it. But here, alone in the vastness of space, without the guards or anyone else to enforce order, who would hear her? Truly hear her? Her fury would echo into the void, and she would still be utterly and entirely, alone.

His voice was a soft, poisonous whisper. “So, what’s it going to be, little lawyer?”

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @all-for-aemond @bellstwd @blackswxnn

@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @cl-0-vr @eddieslut69

@emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics

@primonizzutto @qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @sheshellsseashells

[uriekukistan]

In Defense of Shoko in 261

to be so honest, i’m really doing my best not to come off angry while talking about this. but to me this conversation is not just about shoko, but about the way women are treated in media, and especially in shounen manga in general.

people are upset about the way shoko reacted, or rather didn’t react, to yuuta’s plan because it seemed too unemotional and uncaring. if she had shown emotion or protested, people would still be upset because she would be seen as unable to do the necessary thing in a time of crisis due to her feminine emotions or whatever.

this is the dilemma of not just female characters, but real life women. there’s never a right reaction.

additionally i feel that some of the things being said about her are expecting her to only exist as support for gojo, and not as her own character, which i see way too often with female characters in shounen manga.

in any case, i stand by my cancelled wife, and here’s my defense of her. spoilers below the cut.

Since when has Shoko ever been outwardly emotional like that?

if shoko is upset about yuuta using gojo’s body as a weapon, there is just no way she would outwardly object or show any signs that she’s upset. that’s not who she is and she’s shown that. there have been several times where she’s not displayed the emotion one would expect from her, so why would that change now?

when shoko sees geto, one of her closest friends, if not her closest, for the first time after finding out that he massacred an entire village, you would expect her to be feeling a slew of emotions. maybe confusion, maybe anger, maybe hurt, maybe betrayal. maybe even concern for her friend.

but shoko acts like it’s no big deal at all. she’s just seeing her close friend on a regular day. because she’s not the type to get outwardly emotional. whatever she’s feeling right now is kept somewhere else entirely, far away from the surface.

additionally, in the scene where everyone got frustrated that gojo didn’t react about nanami, we have this from shoko.

talking about geto. not reacting. guys shoko is just not a reactive person like that, and that’s totally fine. a lot of people are like this (including myself but thats not the point)

but that doesn’t mean the emotions don’t exist, or that shoko has no way of reacting or coping or showing that she’s going through anything at all. one way is through smoking.

smoking is something shoko picks up again before the shibuya incident, when the entire jujutsu world is growing more stressed with the increased presence of special grades, particularly the disaster curses, the incident at the goodwill event…and at shibuya, the situation was very high stress, yet she keeps a cool demeanour. the only sign that she’s upset at all is that every time she’s shown, she’s smoking.

the only times we’ve seen shoko’s feelings, it’s been completely internal. the most notable being this scene:

this is the most emotional we’ve ever seen shoko, and if you’ll notice, she’s completely alone.

shoko keeps her feelings well hidden from everyone, so it’d be completely against her character to outwardly show if she was upset by yuuta’s plan.

Since when has Shoko shied away from questionable medical/jujutsu practices?

shoko was eager to dissect yuuji after he “died” like it was some sort of science project and not a human being…please note im saying this as a completely neutral statement, this is not to say whether shoko is a good or bad person, just that she is and how she is.

sure, it’s a bit questionable that she’s looking at a dead teenager on her table and wondering what information she can get out of him, but at the same time, there could be useful information in yuuji’s biology that shows what makes him a successful vessel, at least as far as shoko is aware. useful knowledge that could be used to find another suitable vessel to continue killing sukuna’s power, one finger at a time.

she even says to gojo “who do you think i am?” when he tells her to make her examination of yuuji worth it, implying that this is a trait that those around her are aware of.

she’s practical and methodical, logically thinking rather than emotionally thinking, but most importantly, she’s not the type to display her feelings.

she’s exactly the type to understand the reasoning behind yuuta’s plan and accept it as a logical last ditch effort, and she’s also the type to store her true feelings about it away to process over a cigarette (or several) at a more convenient time. asking her to do anything else would be asking her to change as a character.

i hope this doesn’t come across as me being unsympathetic to gojo’s dehumanization and being turned into a weapon, i think it’s upsetting for sure (but i respect the narrative choice, i think it’s an interesting way to bring out themes). mostly, i think that shoko, both by the narrative and by the fandom, is only perceived in geto & gojo’s shadow, and i wanted to draw attention to her as a person.

i’m sick of reading the “shoko’s a cold-hearted traitor” comments on different platforms bc i think it’s not true, and i think asking her to act differently removes her autonomy as a character and forces her to be nothing but a supporting role to gojo, rather than her own character.

hopefully this makes some sense dkskld

[ninapi]

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ First Born❜ (Halloween Special)┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Being an older brother once more was beyond exhilarating for Choso, he never expected though to find love by his little brother's side, his pretty and kind childhood friend bringing a softness into his life he didn't know it was possible one Halloween night.

Word Count: 3243

Note: this is a Semi AU, meaning the characters are who they are in the series, yet the timeline doesn’t match the original story.

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Choso has been a big brother since he can remember, that’s his number one trait and the one he is more proud of in general.

Therefore, loosing his two younger brothers continues to sting to this day.

Gaining a ‘new brother’ or finding a ‘lost brother’ which ever you wanna call it, gave him a new sense of purpose, a new reason to live and continue growing as a person.

His number one flaw though, was how unemotional he was. 

To Yuuji, Choso was embarrassing. 

He never gets the jokes, more like he can’t even laugh on his own like if his face muscles were forever stiff, a spoon could get social cues better than him; he says the most embarrassing things at the worst timing too and this brings us to this moment.

Yuuji had been flirting with the girl that worked a part time at the donut shop close by for about a month. He would always stop by and buy even if it was just one donut to munch on his way to school just so he could see her smile for a couple of minutes; he even went as far as to ask for her number last time he was there; though today, Choso tagged along and was currently glaring at said beauty for getting ‘too close’ to his brother. “What is it that you want woman? I won’t let you get your smitten paws over my little brother, you hear me? You won’t ever understand how precious he is, must be protected at all cost.”

“Oh my god…just what do you think you’re doing?? Ruining my life?? Didn’t I tell you to stay outside with Fushiguro??” 

“Itadori-kun, I think your brother is right, I don’t think I can handle such a precious boy….” the girl couldn’t hold her laugh any longer, same thing as her co-workers who witnessed the scene.

“That’s it. I’m never taking you out again. Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get her to even look at me??” Yuuji was so disheartened, he opted to sit down on the sidewalk, contemplating the meaning of life while hating on his new older brother.

“I…I was just trying to-“ 

“I know, I know…just trying to be a good older brother…But have you stopped for a second and think that maybe not everyone wants to hurt me? I’m strong enough to defend myself, a pretty little thing like her wouldn’t even dream of hurting anything but my heart…” he sniffs dramatically, burying his face on his hands.

“You can die immediately if someone hurts your heart, idiot…”

This was the last drop of patience within him, “NOT literally, OK? I don’t mean my internal organ, I mean the feelings side of the heart!!”

“That’s not in your heart but your brain. You can also die if someone hurts you there-“

“Just stop talking!!!” Megumi and Nobara were both laughing their asses off at their banter, truth is Nobara saw the girl flirt with at least four different guys in just a week, she had been trying to warn her friend about her, so it was actually a good thing having dense Choso around to break the spell she had on him; that didn’t make it any less funny though.

“Itadori don’t be so hard on him, he’s pouting again.”

“I am not doing such thing-“

“Yes you are, man…” Megumi let out a deep sigh, walking on the opposite direction wanting nothing to do with the loud display of idiocy in front of him.

“Hey Fushiguro! Where are you going? We still need to discuss our plans for the party!” Yuuji yelled after him a little too loud, causing Megumi to flinch and return just to shut him up. “There’s nothing to discuss…Just be there around 9PM, you have to wear a costume or they won’t let you in, those are the rules.”

“Did you choose one already? I never pegged you for someone who’d like halloween parties~” giggling, Nobara elbowed Yuuji on the ribs wanting him to team up with her to tease their friend.

“I bet he’ll wear something ridiculous, like one of those giant carrot costumes.” bursting out laughing, both held each other from collapsing on the ground imagining carrotgumi.

“For your information, I will go as a vampire…I found dubious objects in a closet in Gojo-sensei’s, I mean back in the house…so I brought them with me for this party. Not like I want to go or anything but Maki-san threaten to shave my head in my sleep if I didn’t go…”

“Bald carrotgumi….” after one more outburst of intense laughter, the team bullying ended for the best. “I need a costume, would you go buy one with me, Kugisaki?”

All this time Choso has been quietly observing the entire thing. He knows his brother literally just said he wouldn’t take him out with him ever again, but he really wanted to prove him he could do better, that he wasn’t an embarrassment and that he was the best older brother there was to have, this was his chance. “Guys…do you think…do you think I can come with you…?” 

“No, never, non, forget about it.”

“B-but…”

“Listen, you just ruined my life! How do you even think I would take you with me again?”

“Poor guy, just let him come, Itadori…he always brings the funniest of conversations out. I like him.” Choso perked up a little at the support he was getting, even if he knew all she wanted was to mock his brother, at least someone wanted him there.

“Oh c’mon….What if he ruins it again?” 

“Just leave (Y/N) in baby sitting duty. She likes lost causes…” shrugging she started making her way to the costume shop, both of them tagging along.

“(Y/N)? I mean yes she does take recycling to an intense level and saves stray cats, but this is…this is something else, Kugisaki…” Choso’s lip was quivering once more, not wanting to face rejection for a third time on the same day by the person he wishes to please the most.

“Ok then how about we do this…” leaning close to Yuuji’s ear she whispers her plan with the most mischievous grin anyone has ever seen in their lives. To this Yuuji laughs for what feels like hours, having to stop in his tracks to wipe his tears away and calm down. “Ok, ok let’s ask him…” going over to his older brother, Yuuji bats his eyelashes prettily up at him, “Nii-chan…you can go…if you go dressed as the carrot Fushiguro isn’t wearing…”

Choso just nodded eagerly, not fully understanding what he was getting himself into. 

“Also, I won’t let you follow me around, I wanna get a girl in my bed by tonight, and you can’t stop me. I’ll ask my best friend to look after you. Understood?” this definitely wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted bonding time with his brother, have a nice time, maybe drink one of those beers he introduced him to the other day, not having to stay behind away from the fun dressed as a commonly disliked vegetable…but it was the chance he was looking for to prove he could behave.

“Is that a yes? Or-?”

“Yes, I will go.” Nobara was on her phone browsing for carrot costumes, not long after running on her way to the shop.

This would be a long night..

���═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

The night was young, every known sorcerer and their friends and family were invited to this party.

Yuuji chose to dress as werewolf, while Nobara went dressed as a sexy nurse.

Choso though…let’s just say the carrot outfit didn’t suit him that well…

Wanting to get rid of him as soon as possible, Yuuji stopped you right at the entrance with a big grin plastered on his face. “(Y/N) my darling! My bestie! The light that shines above us…!”

“What do you want now-“ he was being too obvious, he only acts this way when he wants either money or nasty favors.

“Have you met my brother yet?”

“Your what-? I’ve lived next door my entire life and I’ve never seen a brother of yours-“ covering your mouth almost instantly, he glared at you, trying to get you to play along.

“O-oh…yes your brother! You told me about him the other day. No, I haven’t had the pleasure to meet him yet!” smiling on his direction, you walked over to him, taking both of his hands in yours.

“Hi! I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to finally meet you! By the way, what an adorable outfit you brought today! I wish I knew about them before, then we could have been two carrots instead of just one!” giggling at how good you were handling his worst nightmare, Yuuji sneaks away without you noticing; thing is, not only did you not notice, but neither did Choso, and that had never happen before.

“They also had tomatoes and an eggplant, but that one was too little, it would probably fit you though.” He nodded in thought, unable to figure out why the thought of you dressed like a tiny eggplant sounded so appealing. Was this why his brother wanted him to be a carrot? Did he actually look cute?

“I would have loved to be an eggplant! We could take a bunch of pictures, probably even win the costume contest!” your soft laughter brought a smile to his face, he’s never been treated this nicely before.

“What are you supposed to be though?” he eyed you from head to toe, making you blush. “I’m Godzilla~” you posed, letting out a cute little roar, his heart skipped a beat, cuteness has never been his thing but he could see the appeal of it now.

“I apologize, I do not know what that is, but it’s certainly cuter than an eggplant. They don’t make sounds...” his comment made you giggle giddily, why did Yuuji dislike him this much? He’s such a sweetheart…

“Hmm Godzilla is…a monster…he destroys cities and kicks buildings.” you tried your best to imitate it properly, earning a smile from him once more, making you feel accomplished.

“So like a curse? I’m half curse-” he looked at you with his eyes wide opened in realization.

“Nah, more like a cute big animal lost in a city full of ants.” he nods at this, before pointing to a table by the door. “They had animal shaped cookies in a bowl over there.” he didn’t know why but he felt the need to make you smile some more, to make you feel comfortable in his presence unlike the rest of his brother’s friends and seemed like you liked animals enough to dress like one.

“Do they? I bet they’re adorable. Would you like to eat some with me?” the way your eyes twinkled at this little piece of information made his stomach feel hollow, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, he kind of wanted to feel more of this, so he went over the table and poked all the cookies from the bowl until he was sure he’s gotten at least one of every single animal available in it. 

Megumi, who was sitting at the top of the stairs hiding from a drunk panda who was trying to get him to kiss his cousin, saw the entire scene unfold, and decided to intervene before Itadori ruined his moment if he caught him. “Choso…stop touching all the food just grab a handful she’ll like it anyways, trust me.” to his advice he nodded gratefully, making sure to grab some drinks as well.

“Here, I couldn’t find the elephant, I was sure I saw one when I went by that table earlier, apologies for not getting you the complete set. I got you some melon soda though, I hope you like it.” the back of his neck felt hot, he continued wondering why he wanted to please you this bad, is not like you were his little sister, not like he wanted you to be his sister- he wouldn’t be able to last a day before dying of cuteness overload.

“Don’t worry! I’m sure Mr.elephant found a nice home in someone else’s belly.” chuckling you grabbed a little bear cookie and pressed it to his lips, “Try it! It’s yumyum~” you danced happily at the taste, wanting to share the joy a good high quality cookie can bring to someone’s life.

To this he just gave out a short nod, getting the entire cookie into his mouth. This was all so new to him, was this why his brother kept insisting in taking a girl to his bed?

What would they even do there?

He would like to take you to his and eat elephant shaped cookies, maybe even talk a little, or watch a movie, he’s been really into them since his brother introduced him to horror films.

“Hey (Y/N) would you like to go to my room? It’s a bit far but we could walk there-“ before he could continue his sentence, a shoe came flying straight to his face, Megumi coming to pull him to the side, “I’m borrowing him for just a second (L/N), be right back.” 

He took Choso outside, away from prying eyes, a deep scowl on his face, “What on earth are you doing? You spend too much time with Itadori, he’s rubbing on you…”

“I thought you’re supposed to take nice girls to your bed…”

“I..ugh..WhAT? Who told you that? Never mind don’t answer…” letting out a long sigh he plops down on a bench prompting Choso to the same. “Look, man…it is true I guess, though the order is wrong. Remember how your brother talked to the same girl for months just to get her to like him?” nodding his head he was taking mental notes, Megumi rarely took his time to teach him anything, this must not go to waste.

“When you think a girl is nice or cute, pretty even. When she’s nice to you as well and you feel like you want more of her…” his nodding intensified, it was as if he was reading his mind, describing just how he was feeling that same moment.

“You have to treat her right, make nice things for her, be patient, don’t do anything impulsive. Girls are more delicate, you can’t be rough with them. Got it?”

“I knew it. I should have looked for that elephant cookie some more…” 

A rare smile appeared on Megumi’s face, Choso has been nothing but a pain to them when it doesn’t come to fighting, but he’s never seen this soft side of him, or maybe he had, just that Itadori always shuts him down unlike you.

“Yeah well, maybe next time you can buy her a bag, I’m sure the elephant will be there.” his eyes opened widely, he hadn’t thought about that, fantastic idea.

“You’re a great guy, Fushiguro, I appreciate your advise. I can be your older brother too, if you ever need one...” with a small smile on his face, Megumi walked away back to his room, he'd have enough of this party already.

“Go back to her, before someone steals her away~” running back inside, his heart came back to his body when he saw you patiently waiting for him inside, fidgeting with your fingers.

“I have returned. Fushiguro just told me we can find the elephant cookie if I get you a new pack of cookies. Would you like to go buy one with me?”

“Right now?” that smile of yours will end up causing him heart failure, he was sure of that now.

“Or later, when you have time, if you want that is…we can also go back for the eggplant dress, if you’re tired of being Godzilla.” It was pretty obvious to you by now that he was trying to get you out of this party, you weren’t what others would call a 'party animal’, you only went because your best friend called you over; the same best friend who’s been flirting with every single girl in the room and has not addressed you for the longest time.

“I think they sell them in the supermarket down the street, lets go~!” pulling him by his hand, you both walked in silence as none of you knew what to say.

“So, how is Yuuji as a younger brother? If he’s mean to you tell me, I will kick his ass…” you knew your bestie, he could be really sweet as much as he can be a real ass when he wants to be.

“He’s great. I wish we could get along better though…but it’s hard to know what he wants. I wished everyone would be happy with animal cookies…”

“I think it’s easy getting along with you though. You’re sweet and gentle, funny too.” Choso has never been complimented before, not like this at least…was this what his brother called ‘flirting’?

“I…well I think you are all those things too…nobody has ever treated me this nice before…” his comment managed to sadden you more than anything, stopping you on your tracks to place a hand on his cheek gently.

“Then how about we see each other some more? I need you to see how special you are.” your smile was so bright, so comforting…his chest ached but in a pleasant way, he kind of wanted to rip his own heart out just to see the chemical reaction occurring within his body in this very second, his blood even felt more powerful, he could kill Gojo Satoru right now, he was sure of it. But all he wanted was to count cookies with you while looking at the night sky.

“Can we? See each other again? I mean after the cookies...?”

“Of course! Lets do all sorts of things together! Have you ever been to a theme park? Maybe I can get the eggplant costume and we could both go dressed as vegetables, that’d be fun!” your arm wrapped around his as you walked towards the supermarket.

“I’ve never been to one, no.”

“Then we totally have to go! We could play some video games too! Oh and we definitely need to go to that new crepe place down town, I heard you need a reservation and all!”

“Why do you want to go with me to all those places?” he was honestly confused, he’s been facing so much rejection that this fuzzy feeling in his chest was starting to cause some concern.

“That’s what friends do, right? Besides, I think you’re really cute…maybe…we could…you know…one of those days we go out…only if you’d like of course…we could maybe say it’s a date?” you smiled nervously up at him, he’s never seen such beauty in his entire life, not even the drawing his little brother made for him when they were little was this pretty. “I would like that very much…”

Being the first born of four brothers had its benefits as much as it has its flaws, but tonight he was sure of one thing, he was glad of getting in his little brothers nerves enough to get him to dump him with the cutest girl his eyes had ever lay on.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Masterlist

[l-michalska-writer]

🔥Angst prompts:

Oh, fuck you!

Grow up.

Why won’t you just let me love you?!

This ends now.

You’ve always taken me for granted.

I’ll make you pay.

You’ll regret calling me that.

I wanna end this. Now.

Shut up, for God’s sake!

I don’t want to love you anymore!

You’re not enough, that’s why!

Did you even care when you tore my heart to pieces?

Where do you think you’re going?! I’m not done talking to you!

You have nothing to be proud of.

Don’t you see I’m trying?!

Get out already!

Stop whining about it!

How did this happen?!

What were you thinking?!

It happened. Yes, it was awful but get over it already!

I don’t need you anymore!

Get the fuck out of my life!

Shut up already!

Bring it on.

You know what? fuck off.

You were such a waste of time.

Don’t judge me.

I think I’ve had enough of you.

Grow up for fucks sake.

You’re dead to me.

When did you get so unemotional?

What about us?

I’ll make you suffer.

If you break me, I’ll break you.

You made me hate myself.

You shouldn’t even be alive.

[siremasterlawrence]

Answer The Call To The Wild

Arab model Adnan Arik is the hottest import yet coming to Los Angeles since I moved their for my career and soon enough I finally met him by chance at one of my meetings with my agent.He is in the literally sitting down in a chair as he stars some down in disgust that I dare to show up and he sighs rolling his eyes when I sat down and I am use to it but this time I had enough.I bend a bit opening my cellphone proceed to tap a app with a spiral logo popping up on the screen and all go sudden he can’t stop staring it as the spiral continues in the middle of the screen. I notice he is staring unmoving leaving me a quick opening to ensnare him as I wave my hand in his face and he stays unemotional and frozen in time I glee with excitement in one click. The camera comes on flashing in his face blaring brightly his face catches him and a message is sent to my agent who automatically uploads in to his mind and he knows what to do. My agent comes from the room calling Tarik to join him as follows him in mindlessly and pats his back before he is turning to me. I flip another app to the side as it opens up a small screen showing what’s going on in the camera I install in the office and Tarik takes a seat. He silently stares into the walls as my agent opens his laptop typing a code and his whole conscious comes to life as he awkwardly awakens thinking he is way to normal. My agent beckons me in when I follow him stopping in back of him as I am placing my hand on his shoulder and I plant a kiss on his cheeks and embrace his cheek with mine.

Adnan Arik is not sure why but he has truly been staying at my place for nearly a week or so but he has gotten use to the idea as he smirks now and truthfully he is happier now than ever. He is awe of me at this very moment kneeling at me feet with a fucking sexy smile on his face and sitting inbetween my legs with utter splendor and frightening delight. He has fallen in love with me so he completely in shock when he notices a new man enters the chat and my agent so right behind him with his arms on his shoulder his name is Tali. Tali Marikash is pretty sexy guy not usually my type except he is handsome beyond what I imagine he could be and he hugs me tight with fake generosity is oddly obvious. I snap my figure as Adnan jumps up with a bright smile he reaches to grab his shoulders and shoving him down as they struggle and finally Adnan falls to the ground. Tali’s neck is held up facing me as he forced to look in the camera in a matter of seconds the flash goes of and the app starts spinning our control and his mind is recalibrating. “Master Lawrence is a God among men, someone I completely have lost my self too, I swoon at his Godly glorious and he is everything that to me my life.” Tali replies mindlessly with a short and bated breath as he goes my waist in his hands and kisses my hands letting my hypnotic words sink in forever because he is my property. “Sir Yes Master Lawrence I live for you the Maestro of this universe and the kingdom of the one who rules this planet that we live in even though you are not willing to admit it.

My acting agent Johnathan Jackson Majors Wells is at my apartment after bringing me my two bois are worshipping me to not end I might add and he leans in touching my chin kissing me. His arms lifting into the airs land on my waist wrapping it tightly as he is truly pulling me closer and matches my lips with his as we make out kissing. I brush him to the side as he drags, paws and scratches me doing his best to come even closer to me with love and we kiss again but I ignore him. I lose myself for a bit grabbing his own camera as I tell him to smile and pose for me as the camera flashing it in his face and he stops shaking in fear and reprogramming is going on. I instruct him to set on the lawn chair using my finger to move my finger all over and he follows me very obedient as I snap my fingers as he keeps over falling to the side. His back he fell back on to the lawn chair in to my arms as I kiss him on the neck and I rock him to side whispering him down into nothing. “Listen to me my pet Jackson because you know I am right as always I am always right simply because I will it to be and so therefore you do not question me.” He humbles himself drops into my arms yet again as he slips down further ito chair and he melts into my arms crumbling into my body and he falls permanently in love. “You are madly into me so in love with me Jonathan my dear.You know that right?”

“Take this liquor from my hand Jonathan it is for the best, that is take it from my hand right now and take a sip please. Place at your lips that’s to go be a tip on the lips and sip it taste every fiber of my being I poured in to it.” He placeshis lips on to the martini glass tipping it over as it goes down pouring it into his throat as it it doing it’s job. The taste radiates down his throat as it burns leaving a lasting impressive of my power because he has fully accepted it that he belong to me. “I am your main guy the star you worship, glorify, serve, obey and submit to him because he is your greatest power and asset in existence to you.” I continue to whisper this into his ears I begin to kiss cheeks slowly going down his neck once more touching every inch of his body as he squirms. “Sir Yes Master I owe you my life my Master Lawrence since I surrender toyou because you have lifted me into the air swooped me up into your arms since I am at your behest.” He says spin about stare into my eyes lovingly as he sides off of me hitting the floor with his feet and feeling my body up learning to worship every inch of my body. I am proud of my work picking up my hand mirror on my side showing him my work and he is lost in awe of my power at the sight of the fact he has been de-aged.

“Who are these two muscle bound apes”

“Who are you speaking to?”

“What the fuck?”

“Take a picture”

“Flash! Can you hear me?”

“Yyyyeeeessss”

“Yyyyeesss”

“Kneel now”

“In my eyes is the key “

“Stare away “

“Get lost in my life”

“Resist all else “

“I am your life force”

“What you breath “

“What you eat”

“What you crave”

“I am yours “

“You can’t deny it “

The end

[thefisherqueen]

“I fear that it may be the last investigation in which I shall have the chance of studying your methods. Miss Morstan has done me the honor to accept me as a husband in prospective.” He gave a most dismal groan. “I feared as much,” said he. “I really cannot congratulate you.” I was a little hurt. “Have you any reason to be dissatisfied with my choice?” I asked. “Not at all. I think she is one of the most charming young ladies I ever met, and might have been most useful in such work as we have been doing. She had a decided genius that way: witness the way in which she preserved that Agra plan from all the other papers of her father. But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment.” “I trust,” said I, laughing, “that my judgment may survive the ordeal. 

I admit I was hoping for a little more drama at this reveal. Not even an "I shall miss you", from either of them. And it's pretty wild to see Holmes still proclaim he's just unemotional after so many passages in this book where he was anything but. It all feels... cold and empty, after so many warm moments. Anyway, my heart is comforted knowing that this is anything but the end for Sherlock Holmes and dr Watson *has a strong urge to start again with the short stories*

[cyberl6ve]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ─ 𝟓

CHECK MASTERLIST FOR OTHER CHAPTERS !!

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⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ : 𝐌𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧, the remnants of sleep still clinging to me as I emerge from the foggy haze of sleep. The knock on the door registers in my half-asleep mind, pulling me fully back to reality.

I rub my eyes, sitting up on the couch. The knock sounds again, a little more urgent this time. Who could be at my door at this time?

I make my way to the door, the knock echoing through the silent apartment again. I pull the door open, my expression a mix of surprise and wariness.

Chris is standing there, his hands in his pockets. He looks a bit disheveled, his hair tousled, like he'd been running his hands through it. For a moment, he just looks at me, a mixture of guilt and hesitation in his eyes.

“Hey...” he starts, lamely, the word hanging awkwardly in the air.

I stand there, studying his face. There’s something different about him tonight, a vulnerability I’ve never seen before.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone guarded. I lean against the doorway, making sure to keep some distance between us.

Chris rubs the back of his neck, his gaze flickering away for a moment before coming back to meet mine. “Can I come in?” he asks, his voice softer than usual.

I hesitate for a moment, the memory of our conversation earlier still fresh in my mind. Do I want to let him in? Can I trust him?

I meet his gaze, keeping my expression as aloof as possible. The hurt and anger from earlier haven’t faded, and I'm far from trusting with him at the moment.

“After the conversation we had today, I don't think I wanna talk to you anymore,” I respond, my voice cool and detached. “Why should I let you in?”

Chris looks at me for a moment, his expression sincere. “Because that’s why I came here...to apologize,” he says, his voice soft.

I raise an eyebrow, a bit surprised. Apologize? After all the crap he pulled earlier, now he wants to apologize?

I cross my arms, leaning further into the doorway, my expression still guarded. “You think you can just show up here unannounced and apologize and everything’s supposed to be fine?” I reply, my tone still cold and unemotional.

Chris drops his gaze, looking genuinely sheepish for once. “I know I messed up earlier,” he admits. “I didn’t mean it...the things I said. I was just...an ass, plain and simple.”

I just look at him, not sure what to believe. He sounds sincere, but I’ve been fooled by him enough times before.

“Go home, Chris” I move to close the door, intending to end this conversation before it goes any further. But just as the door begins to close, he reaches out, stopping it with his hand.

“Please...” The word comes out in a soft, almost pleading tone, his gaze fixed on mine. There’s a yearning in his eyes that I've never seen before, and it takes me by surprise.

I pause, the door half-closed, the silence between us palpable. I can see the earnestness in his eyes, the way his voice is quiet and sincere. This isn’t like him, not the usual cocky, confident Chris I'm used to dealing with.

For a second, I consider just closing the door and ending it there. But something holds me back, a flicker of curiosity and something else stirring deep within me.

For a brief moment, I hesitate. But against my better judgment, I find myself stepping back, opening the door wider to let him in. The decision feels like a mistake almost immediately, but it's too late now.

Chris steps inside, his expression a mix of relief and uncertainty. I close the door behind us, my heart thudding in my chest. What have I just done?

I keep my distance, watching him warily as he steps into my living room. My walls are still up, my heart set on being wary around him. Just because I let him in doesn't mean I've fully forgiven him.

I gesture for him to sit down. “Well, you wanted to talk. So, talk,” I say, my voice firm and devoid of any warmth. Chris nods, his hands still shoved in his pockets. He walks over to the couch, sinking into the cushions. I hover near the entryway, keeping a safe distance.

“I want to apologize for what I said earlier,” he starts, his voice laced with remorse. “It was shitty, and I didn’t mean it. I was just being an idiot...” I didn’t say anything, just cross my arms and keep watching him. I’m not going to make this easy for him.

Chris takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “And...I’m sorry for everything else, too,” he continues. “For how I acted after...that night. For ghosting you. For being a shitty person.”

He looks up at me, his gaze meeting mine. “I was scared, and I ran away instead of dealing with it. And that was wrong. I'm sorry.”

I uncross my arms, my expression hardening. “Scared of what?” I scoff, the word laced with anger. “You knew how I felt, and still you just left. You hurt me, and I don’t even think you cared.”

I take a step closer, my voice rising slightly. “You don’t get to just walk back in here and pretend it didn’t happen. You don't get to apologize and expect me to just forgive you.”

Chris actually cringes at my words, the look of guilt on his face deepening. “I know,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't expect anything. I just...I wanted you to know how sorry I am.”

He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture a clear sign of his agitation. “I wasn't thinking straight back then,” he continues. “I was scared...of what I was feeling.”

Chris looks away, his gaze falling to the floor. “I hate feeling weak,” he mutters, the words coming out in a frustrated huff. “Every time I start to care about someone, I just push them away. I'm not good at...this.”

His admission hangs in the air, the silence stretching between us. I’m a bit taken aback by his confession, seeing a side of him I’ve never seen before. He hates feeling weak? He pushes people away because he’s scared of caring about them? It’s a stark contrast to his usual cool, collected demeanor.

Chris’s expression is a mix of guilt and frustration. “I don't know why I do it,” he continues, his voice a little strained. “It’s like my own worst defense mechanism. I don't want to get hurt, so I hurt you before you get the chance to hurt me.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head at himself. “I know it doesn’t make sense. And I know it’s a shitty way to act.”

Chris looks back up at me, his gaze meeting mine again. “I think part of me is scared that if I care too much, I’ll be the one who ends up hurt in the end,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been hurt before and I don't want to go through that again. So I push people away. I push people like you away.”

His words hang in the air, the vulnerability in his eyes surprising me. The walls he wears so easily, the confidence he exudes...they’re nowhere to be seen right now. This is a different side of him, one that's afraid and vulnerable.

The silence between us feels heavy, and I can see the mixture of emotions warring in his eyes. But beneath it all, I can see the sincere regret, the genuine remorse. He’s not trying to manipulate me. He’s trying to explain.

I stand there, my arms still crossed, my heart wavering. Part of me wants to believe him, to trust that he’s being honest about his feelings. But the other part, the part that was hurt and abandoned, is resistant. Can I really believe him? Can I really trust him not to hurt me again?

Chris stands, his movements slow and tentative. He approaches me, his gaze still locked on my face. “I’m not asking you to forgive me right now,” he says, his voice soft. “I know I don’t deserve that yet. But I want to make it up to you.” He’s standing close to me now, eye to eye. The earnestness in his expression is impossible to ignore.

I lean my head against his chest, the tears welling up in my eyes. “I hate you! I hate you!” I cry out, the words muffled against his chest as I hit my fists against him in frustration.

But the truth is, I don’t hate him. I never could. I'm angry and hurt, yes, but there’s still a part of me that...cares.

Chris wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him. His grip is firm, yet gentle at the same time. “I know,” he replies, his voice soft. “I’m sorry.”

His hand rubs along my back in a soothing gesture, the movement meant to comfort me. His touch is warm and soothing, and it only serves to make my walls crumble even more.

I sniffle against his chest, my tears staining his shirt. The anger and hurt are still there, but they’re slowly giving way to the flood of emotions I've been suppressing for so long.

I don’t want to care about him, I don’t want to be vulnerable, but with his arms around me, it’s difficult to ignore the feelings bubbling up inside me.

I keep my face buried against his chest, my voice slightly muffled but still understandable. “You’re the worst, Christopher Owen,” I mutter.

The use of his full name is a clear sign of my frustration and anger, but there's a hint of affection in my tone that I can't hide.

Chris tightens his hold on me, not seeming fazed by the use of his full name. If anything, he might even find it endearing.

“I know,” he replies, his voice still gentle. “I’m the worst. And I’m sorry.”

His hand continues to rub my back in slow, soothing circles. His touch is both comforting and infuriating at the same time. Why does it feel so good? Why does he have this effect on me?

I let out a shaky breath, the tears slowly subsiding. I should pull away, maintain the distance that I'm trying so hard to keep. But his hold on me is firm, and his touch is like a drug, addictive and hard to resist.

I look up at him, my face still tear-stained and my expression a mix of anger and vulnerability. “Why are you making this so hard?” I mumble, my voice soft and broken.

Chris looks down at me, his eyes full of remorse and a hint of something else I can’t quite describe. “I’m not trying to make it hard,” he replies, his voice just as soft.

His hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, and it makes my heart flutter in my chest in spite of everything.

I can’t help but lean into his touch, my anger and resistance melting away under his gentle caress. It feels good to be close to him, to be held like this. But at the same time, it scares me. I don't know how to handle these feelings, these emotions he’s awakening in me.

Chris keeps his hand on my cheek, his gaze never leaving mine. “You know, sleeping with my brother... makes me jealous,” he admits, his voice a little strained. “And I hate how you make me feel.”

He looks down at me, his gaze intense. “I hate how you make me feel so vulnerable, how you make me care about you when I don’t want to.”

I can feel my heart skip a beat at his words, the raw emotion in his voice impossible to ignore. He’s being honest, vulnerable, telling me exactly how I make him feel. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

“Why are you telling me this?” I whisper, my voice shaky. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying so hard?”

Chris looks down at me, his expression earnest, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because you're worth trying for,” he responds, his tone sincere.

He moves his hand from my cheek, letting it trail down to my waist as he pulls me ever so slightly closer. The distance between us is almost non-existent now. “You’re worth the risk. You’re worth...everything.”

My heart is in my throat as he speaks, his words like a soothing balm to the hurt and anger I’ve been carrying. It feels so good to hear him talk like this, to see his vulnerability and honesty.

I can feel his hand on my waist, his touch anchoring me to this moment. I’m torn between pulling away and falling into him, giving into the feelings that are roaring back to life.

I look up at him, my eyes searching his face for any hint of deception. “You’re lying,” I mumble, my voice laced with hurt and accusation. “What about the other girls?”

The mention of the other girls he’s been with is a painful reminder of what he’s done, a bitter pill to swallow. It feels like a betrayal...but also a question that needs an answer.

Chris's expression softens, his eyes never leaving mine. “They meant nothing,” he reassures, his voice firm. "They were just…distractions. Nothing more”

He leans a little closer, his hand on my waist tightening subtly. “You’re the only one who’s ever mattered to me. You’re the only one I’ve ever really cared about besides Nick and Matt.”

Chris looks down at me, his expression sincere and vulnerable. “I’ve cared about you since the day we met, since we were 10,” he confesses. “You’ve seen me through my ups and downs. You’ve always understood me better than anyone else.”

He takes a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. “I messed up by pushing you away. By hurting you. I was scared...of feeling weak and getting hurt myself. I thought if I acted like this tough guy, I’d be better off.”

He looks down at me, his expression full of regret. "That’s why I did what I did with those girls. It was all a cover, a way to convince myself...and others...that I didn’t care. That I couldn’t be hurt.”

He moves his hand up to run it through his hair, the gesture one of frustration. “But it was all bullshit. All of it. The tough guy act, the flirting, the meaningless hookups...none of it meant anything.”

His hand moves to cup my cheek again, his touch gentle but firm. “You’re the only one who's ever mattered,” he states, his voice raw and earnest. “You’re the only one who’s ever gotten under my skin like this. Who's ever made me feel so damn alive.”

I lean into his touch, my eyes locked on his, feeling the raw emotion in his words. My heart is racing, my walls slowly crumbling under the weight of his confession. I want to believe him, but I’m still hesitant, still scared.

Chris takes a deep breath, his hand staying on my face. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, his voice sincere. “I’m sorry for everything. I know sorry doesn’t make things right, but I’d determined to make things better. For you."

He looks me straight in the eye, his gaze unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to you. To make you trust me again. To make you believe that I'm serious about this.”

I can see the determination in his eyes, the conviction in his voice. Part of me wants to give in, to believe him, to fall into his arms. But there’s still that flicker of doubt, that lingering fear of being hurt again.

Chris leans forward, his gaze fixed on my face. The space between us shrinks, his nearness making my heart race faster. His eyes are intense, his expression sincere. He’s close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, and it’s making my head spin.

Chris leans in, his lips mere inches from mine. I can feel the heat radiating between us, the tension crackling in the air. But just as he’s about to close the gap, I turn my head.

My heart is pounding in my chest, my body warring with my mind. Part of me wants to give in, to feel his lips on mine, but another part is still hesitating, still holding back.

I keep my head turned, my heart pounding in my chest. “Show me,” I murmur, my voice laced with both challenge and a hint of hope. “Show me that you really care.”

Chris pauses, his gaze not leaving my face. He’s looking at me intently, his expression a mix of determination and desire. He understands the weight of this moment, the importance of his actions now.

Chris reaches up with his finger, gently turning my chin towards him. His touch is firm but gentle, guiding me to meet his gaze. “I will,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes are intense, locking onto mine. There’s a smoldering heat behind them, a promise of what’s to come.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Authors note: i love this chapter sm actually. also tagging these two wonderful people since they wanted to be tagged in the next chapter !!

☆ ── @fratbrochrisgf @syn-wr1tes

© CYBERL6VE



[lovelessrage]

This one's a bit more personal/just a me thing, so keep that in mind.

I always feel kinda left out when people ask for more emotional aros, because it feels like almost every aro I see people write is emotional in one way or another; they react, they live, they're expressive and they feel deeply. But, the characters I always saw myself in? It's the unemotional, it's the distant one, the stick in the mud, the grouch. The guy who's no fun is always much more close to my aro experience, especially as a loveless, low empathy person.

I see myself reflected in the character who is a grump when they reject romance, that pushes others away and lives in solitude, because it feels like so many canonical aro characters rely so heavily on friendship and family. The grouchy ones, though? They're on their own and damn proud of it. That always speaks to my loveless self much, much more.

I do think in the ideal world, that means rep for all, every shade of aro under the sun in at least one media. But, I feel a bit sad when the characters I've related to most are filed under "stereotype, do not touch"; I AM a stereotype. I am a stereotypical, loveless, solitary aro. These characters are my life. Make room for all of us at the finish line.

[emerald-truth]

Yesterday I watched Data's Day and it made me cry and I need to talk about it.

First of all I love that it was lowkey a slice of life episode? Like Data is just describing his normal day and some crazy stuff happens as usual on the Enterprise but it's also just like. The crew hanging out. I especially love his conversation with Worf about what wedding present to buy because it's just so normal? Everyday? And just seeing his casual friendships with everyone? And they all love each other? I love the whole tng crew so much.

Anyway, what made me really emotional was how much I related to Data as an autistic person and I know people talk about this all the time but I'M GONNA TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN FOR MYSELF.

Right in the beginning of the episode he talks about how he used to have trouble maintaining friendships but now that he's become better at predicting other people's emotions he's become able to form friendships. And just. The whole ordeal of having to take years and years to LEARN TO MAKE FRIENDS when it seems to come so naturally to everyone else, when it seems like something that should just be easy. Yeah. But then also the absolute joy when you succeed! When you think ah yes I've finally learned to understand others enough, to do the correct analyses, to make the correct predictions, I can finally make friends! And Data is so pleased with himself just like I have been the past couple years. And the thing is! He makes mistakes still in predicting emotions! But his friends forgive him and help him understand! And it's just so??? Oh my god the happiness that comes with being accepted despite your flaws, despite who you are and what you can't change about yourself. With being reminded that you still deserve friendship and a special place in people's lives even when you make mistakes. Because even though he upsets Keiko by trying to change her mind about the wedding she forgives him and still lets him act as "the father of the bride" because she still loves him! Everyone does! Because he's so sincere! Oh my god I love Data so much-

But the thing that made me cry was one little moment when they suddenly redirect their course towards the neutral zone and Data says it's a good thing his duties can't be interrupted by emotions such as the uneasiness he might feel about such a change to the course. While clearly exhibiting signs of being nervous like tapping his fingers and glancing behind himself at the drivers. And this is something about my experience of autism that I hardly ever see in fiction. Not only do I have trouble understanding the feelings of others, I have trouble identifying MY OWN FEELINGS. I have low body awareness so instead of feeling emotions in my body I have to engage with them intellectually which means I often can't tell that I'm experiencing an emotion even when people around me can. I saw another post a month or so ago talking about how Data probably has similar troubles because his emotions don't manifest physically the way they do for humans. And just. I've spent so long feeling like and being accused of being an unemotional person because I don't feel my emotions the way other people do, so to see this implication that Data DOES have emotions even when he himself doesn't always notice them is so lovely. Just because he or I don't always feel emotions physically, and must understand them intellectually, doesn't mean we are uncaring. It just means so much to see a character who thinks of himself as emotionless be portrayed as so gentle, kind, and loved.

And then the end of the episode- Data says he believes humanity is not an inherent quality but a way of thinking and something he can achieve. And that's so reassuring. Even if I'm not human now, maybe someday I will be. And even if I'm not human, even if I'm never human, I can still be good, I can still feel, I can still make friends, I can still be like Data.

[anotherkindofmindpod]

So on reading a bit more of McCartney Legacy, the breakup section seems to align more with the typical Jean Jacket interpretation to me... is that your impression?

My take of the Breakup Section of McCartney Legacy is that it DOES align with the Traditional narrative, but not necessarily the Jean Jacket narrative.

What's the difference? I think the Traditional Narrative is more like Paul's and John's Public version, the "Official" version, the Common Ground version: John privately quit in September '69 and meant it; Paul didn't want to break up, but begrudgingly accepted it. Cue: divorce proceedings and the inevitable ugliness. The Jean Jacket Narrative is more like Yoko's PR (or JohnandYoko's PR): The Beatles were essentially a chrysalis that required Yoko to break the spell and release John from what had become a cage. After he dumped Paul (a relic of his childhood), he was able to fulfill his true mission. Ultimately, John's Higher Artistic Purpose, Yoko's transformative partnership and their shared drive for World Peace were too strong and too big for the Beatles. Paul, OTOH, was childishly stuck in Little Boy land, wanting to make mindless pop music with his schoolmates (tsk tsk tsk). Unlike John, Paul never grew out of his desire for childish friendships and refused to progress. Pathetic and sad, Paul limped along (with his successful marriage, beloved family, numerous fantastic albums and tours, etc), while John finally blossomed and flourished without him. It might seem like a depressingly low bar, but I can't emphasize enough how remarkable and progressive it is to read a book on Paul in the 70s without that Jean Jacket narrative! I don't mind reading the Official Narrative! Because personally I didn't expect (or particularly need) the McCartney Legacy to re-write the Breakup for me. Having done years and years of work on the break-up myself, that's just not what I was looking for. What I DO appreciate is that their coverage, while including all the most vital facts and events, was sparse, fairly unemotional, and did not ever demonize the other Beatles. (They did however agree that Klein was objectively shit, which I GREATLY appreciate). It's almost impossible to read a Beatles book that doesn't insert snide commentary about John or Paul's behavior, so this was immensely refreshing. -Phoebe Incidentally, we feel like the Real Version of the breakup is much closer to: JOHN: Paul, you turned on me the second the Beatles were done. You jumped ship without a backwards glance, cut me off completely and then turned your lawyers on me! WTF!?! PAUL: Bullshit! I loved you and wanted to work things out. I would've stayed forever, but YOU said you wanted a divorce! You TOLD me to fuck off out of your life! WTF?!?! I feel like they're having this argument for 2-3 straight years, if not for the rest of their lives. (*grumble, sigh, cry, rip out hair*) Sometimes I wonder to what extent they were truly able to see things from the other's POV. IMO, they were both so pathologically afraid they loved/needed the other more, it clouded their ability to see how much they were hurting each other. However, IMO, they do have a whiff of understanding, because when they try to make up in the 70s it's like: JOHN: No, I do love you and want you in my life always PAUL: Awesome, I don't give a shit about money, let's never discuss it again please But (as we all know), they don't heal completely and when they are hurt and/or scared, they retreat to these original positions: JOHN: Fine then, fuck off out of my life PAUL: Great. Speak to my lawyer In other words, I don't think the Official Narrative is incorrect, exactly. Just incomplete (i.e. strongly believe John wanted Paul to come back in early '70 and ask for another chance, etc), and doesn't address the emotional drivers of their behavior (which to us is the "Real" Story).

[hannahssimblr]

“Can I tell you something?” Alison whispers as we lay side by side on a bed, some nameless person’s bed in Dollymount. The sounds of electronic club beats are muffled through the floor from the kitchen beneath us.

“Yeah of course.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way though.”

“I won’t.”

She smiles, “I really, really like the stupid faces you make.”

“Stupid faces?” I have to look at her, so I prop myself up on my elbow, “What stupid faces?”

She giggles sleepily, all soft and relaxed after I made her come. I don’t know how I did it, by the way, it’s something that seemed to have happened by divine chance, leaving me with no solid idea of how it can be repeated, but now I have to pretend that I did it on purpose. “You just pull these really expressive faces, like,” she tries to imitate me, tugging her lip between her teeth and rolling her eyes back, “like you’re enjoying yourself so much, it’s so cute.”

I kiss her shoulder, “I am enjoying myself. It’s nice. Do you want me to be all serious? I can do that, I can be really stoic and manly if you like,” I set my jaw and stare right at her when I roll on top of her, “Alison,” I say in a deep, unemotive Terminator voice, “copulating with you is enjoyable to me, let us continue.”

“Stop,” she laughs weakly and squirms away, “and by the way, if you were a real manly man you wouldn’t even speak or make any noise. You’d just wheeze out these really heavy, ominous breaths.”

And would I look you in the eye like this?” I demonstrate, unblinking, “And would I be concentrating so much that I’d look like I was doing a shit?”

“God, no, in my experience guys don’t even look me in the eye. They bury their face into the pillow and then get embarrassed and start apologising when they come like they’ve just realised they’ve done something disgusting.”

I drop back to her side, “Oh, God. That sounds miserable.”

“Yeah that’s why I like your stupid faces, actually, and the way you look at me. Sometimes you even say nice things. It’s always pleasant with you and I never regret it.”

“I’m just blurting out random shit, it’s not exactly romance novel worthy stuff.”

“You said a few minutes ago, and I quote, ‘Oh Jesus, fuck, Alison you’re so fucking hot.’ Do you know how good it feels for me to hear that?”

“i can't be held accountable for the things I say when I'm about to come,” I say with a shrug, “and anyway, you are. I was just sharing the facts.”

She reaches up to touch my cheek, stroking the back of her fingers affectionately over my skin, “That’s the thing though, you’re never embarrassed about sex. You make me feel kind of special, or something. You’re a lovely boy, you know that? You’re just about the loveliest one I know.”

“Why does that make you sound so sad?”

She looks up at me with her big blue eyes and I can’t help but touch her too, brushing my fingertips up the side of her face while she lies there, still, red hair fanned out over the pillow like some kind of beautiful painting. 

“I’m not sad,” She whispers, “We’re just being vulnerable.”

“Hm, how are you holding up?”

“I don’t mind.”

It takes me a moment to realise that I, in fact, am the one that is sad, and perhaps it’s because I’ve been drinking, which is never really that good for me or the image I try to uphold, but an unexpected type of sorrow takes me over in a surge and I only realise I am about to say something very stupid when it is far too late. I am already saying it.

“Why don’t you want to be with me, Alison?”

She sighs and breaks eye contact, “Because that would be ridiculous. You don’t want that.”

“I think that I do. I don’t understand all of this casual stuff, I’m sorry, I just don’t know how to do it.”

“But you’re doing it, you’re fine.”

“No, I think I need more.”

“Jude,” she drags a frustrated hand across her forehead. I think I put her through this type of thing a lot, “you don’t want to be my boyfriend, you just think that you do.”

“I love you.”

She snorts with derision, “No you don’t, come on, you’re just lonely.”

“You’re right,” I hesitate, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, that was stupid.”

“I think that deep inside you’re just a sad little boy who wants someone to look after him, and now you’re searching for some poor, naive girl to do it. Right?”

“No, of course not. I just… don’t like being on my own.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t like how it feels.”

“You’re making a great case for us being together, by the way. Who wouldn’t want to go out with a guy who is depressed and gets really weird whenever he’s alone? Wow, he doesn’t sound clingy at all.”

“But you’re not making any decent case for not being together.”

“Being with me would probably ruin your whole reputation. You don’t want to be the guy who’s going out with the bloody village bicycle of fifth year.”

“Who calls you that?”

She scoffs, “Um, everyone, come on. You think I don’t know? I bet the stuff those rugby boys say about me is foul.”

It's true that the conversation in the changing rooms is so pornographic that it used to stun me, but I've been on that team for two years now and have realised that the conversation is always about the the same things, like whose arse cheeks were visible under the hem of her skirt, what they wish they could do to random girls in the hallway, big tits and blow job lips, invented scenarios with girls they will never have the courage to actually talk to. It's boring.

“I don't think I've ever heard them mention you.”

“Well then you’re just not listening.”

“Alison, yeah, the shit they say is gross, but even if they did talk about you, they definitely wouldn't be saying that you're the village bicycle of fifth year, come on.”

“Of course they do. But that’s what I get for being this way. I should just keep my legs closed, right?”

“C’mere,” I tilt her face gently to mine, “If they're saying that then it's not in front of me.”

I can't read the series of emotions that flash across her face, but her silences makes me begin begin to question if any of this is comforting at all. I continue, “and I swear if I ever do hear anyone talking shit about you in that dressing room I’ll shut it down straight away.”

There is a pounding on the bedroom door. 

“Hey!” Some girl yells, “Who’s in there? This is my room. Nobody better be having sex or something in there!”

Alison and I stare at one another. 

“Hello? Can you open up please? You can’t just come into someone’s house and start locking the doors as you like!”

“Hey! Piss off!” Alison yells back, which only increases the ferocity of the door rattling, “What should we do?” she murmurs.

“Probably get a move on, you think?”

“Yeah, might as well,” she lies spread out on the mattress staring at the ceiling as she tries to gather the strength to move. Finally she relents, “Okay, throw me over my jeans.” 

I pluck them off the chair that I flung them onto earlier and then start retrieving some of my discarded clothes too. “Should we fix up the room or something? Like, I dunno, take the sheets off? I feel a bit bad.”

Alison scoffs, “Why, so you can have them dry cleaned for her? Or do you want to go downstairs and put the washing machine on? No, you can put your condom in the bin but that’s all she gets. What does she expect? We are at a house party, and there is a bloody bed. Does she seriously think that people aren’t going to fuck in it?”

“You’re right,” I chuckle, “Get a grip, huh?”

“Right!”

“Loser.”

“Loser.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[misqnon]

"with him?" for the wip game def not just bc i want a future chapter teaser 🤭 👀

grins evilly...this is from a future Future chapter (chapter 8) but ive been itching to show it to someone

“It wasn’t the same. Usopp chose to leave. I had no other choice. You have no idea how much I wanted to go home to the Sunny.” He says, and Zoro’s surprised to hear the cook’s voice break. Sanji’s not an unemotional hardass- he’s seen the man blubber plenty, but never to him. 

Zoro stands his ground, though gears are turning in his head. “You still didn’t put your trust in Luffy, cook.” The nickname almost sounds soft, for once. “You know how he is. He could have turned it around somehow, even without you agreeing to the wedding.”

“I tried not to agree at first.” Sanji says, raising glassy eyes to glare at him. “It wasn’t just the crew they were holding over my head, jackass. They were going to kill Zeff. They were going to take down the Baratie. They said they’d- Fuck, why am I even telling you all this? It’s not like you’re going to change your stubborn-ass mind.”

“I don’t see why we had to talk about it in the first place. It’s all in the past, what happened happened. What about now?”

“What about now?” Sanji asks, balling his fists. “Now, because of all that bullshit, I’m losing my mind! Do you even know why I asked you to kill me, Zoro!?”

“No. And I don’t need to know.”

“Well too fucking bad. It’s because I thought I’d kicked a woman. I thought I’d split her head open, and when I came to my senses she was looking at me, terrified- and bleeding, and-” He pinches the bridge of his nose, fumbling for that cigarette in his pocket from earlier. “And-my body- it’s-”

He pulls out his lighter again, and it flick, flick, flickers- until he spikes it into the ground and lights his foot aflame to light the damn thing instead. The gold mermaid figure makes a loud shink against the road, bouncing up and skidding a few feet away.

“I need to still be able to trust you to do that. I still need you to kill me if you have to.” Sanji says, urgently. 

Zoro fixes his gaze to him. “I don’t back down from my word.”

“Even if you, what, fall in love with me?”

“Yes. Even then.”

“Bullshit! I asked you because I knew you were the one person on the crew I could trust to not only pull it off, but do it without doubting yourself. This throws a wrench in all of that!”

“It doesn’t.” Zoro insists, nearly a growl. “If you lose your mind, I’ll kill you. I swore. But you’re delusional if you think I’m gonna let you lose your mind that easily.”

Zoro’s convictions and his contradictions make Sanji dizzy. The anger spinning in his chest- fuck, what did it even start out as?- it’s gripping him and the smoke in his lungs isn’t doing anything to calm it. 

“You can’t just wait until the worst of it, Zoro. I need you to nip it in the bud.”

Zoro, who’s been fairly steely calm in comparison, finally balls his fist into Sanji’s shirt, yanking him forward with a growl. “Why are you so desperate to die, huh!? You have no drive to live for yourself, only to make yourself useful to others. It’s humiliating. Don’t you have any pride!?”

“Don’t you think you have too much!?” Sanji screams, gripping Zoro’s suit back just as hard. “I don’t understand your bullshit confidence or your fucking- hypocritical hero complex, sacrificing yourself for the crew almost every battle and then coming at me for trying to do the same!”

“It’s not the same-!” Zoro snarls, and Sanji cuts him off before he can explain.

“It isn’t, mosshead!? Then how come almost every single battle leaves you half-dead, more injured than any of us- even Luffy!? How come every loss has you training yourself to death in the crow’s nest like it’s all your fault it happened!?”

That seems to hit a nerve. “I’m tired of trying to explain myself to you- Clearly all you wanna do is wallow in your own self pity.” Zoro hisses.

Sanji sees red. “You just don’t wanna admit your self-esteem issues are just as glaring as mine, you ‘honorable’ prick.”