#alien plain and tall

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 16 Yautja

Y/N didn't want to be there at all.

There were times in life when you regretted being a good employee. Since he trusted her completely, sometimes Mr. Weyland would insist that she and no one else take care of a project, attend meetings, spend hours writing boring reports.

This time, her boss had decided that she would accompany him on an expedition to Antarctica, where a strange pyramid had been discovered.

No doubt it was a very important discovery on many levels, but even if she could appreciate History and Culture, Y/N didn't really want to die of cold several kilometers underground in search of the origin of humanity.

This obsession of Weyland's made no sense to her. It was like the debates about the shape of Earth. Round, flat, on a giant turtle, it didn't change anything in Y/N's life, and knowing where their ancestors came from was the same thing.

It would be interesting, but it wouldn't change anything.

"Aren't you curious to meet our creators ?"

"If we have to meet some, and no, sir, I'm not interested."

"Another good reason for you to come. I can't wait to see your face when we find something."

No doubt the old man was too scared when they were attacked by these acid-blooded creatures to think about looking at her face and boasting with pride, then when these weird warriors had chased them into this labyrinth.

According to the scientist De Rosa who was trying to decipher the hieroglyphs on the walls to find an exit, they were two races of aliens who had been fighting for centuries. A hunt, to prove their worth, and Weyland's team was in the middle of this fight that didn't concern them.

On top of that, they had made the mistake of taking the warriors' weapons, the only reason they were attacking them. Otherwise, humans had no interest.

At least, until they were forced to face one of the things and Y/N managed to kill it, avoiding being injured by its acidic blood and its pointed tail. She was the only one left and there was no way she was going to end up in this place.

She didn't even have time to recover when the other alien appeared in front of her, making her jump and fall to the ground. But while she thought he was going to take advantage of it to kill her, he just stared at her, before looking at the creature's body, making strange clicking noises.

With his mask, it was impossible to know what he was thinking, but she had the impression that he was impressed. His noises, which seemed to be his form of language, became a kind of purr as he approached her.

Petrified and knowing that she had no chance against him, Y/N watched him reach out to her, before understanding that he wanted to help her up.

"… Thank you." she whispered, grabbing his huge hand.

He was still as tall even when she was standing. Quickly, he scanned her for injuries, before giving her a weapon. Despite the language barrier, Y/N guessed that it was a sign of respect, that he considered her his equal and that he was going to help her survive.

The alien, which she named 'Scar' for lack of a better term, stayed by her side until they had eliminated all the creatures and had gotten out of the pyramid safely.

For a moment, she wondered if he was going to abandon her here or kill her, because from what De Rosa had understood, these warriors left no witness to their passage.

A ship appeared above them, lighting up the entire plain. Y/N thought of Weyland, who would have laughed at the sight of her face at that moment. It might not have been their creators, but it was still incredible, and if she wasn't about to die, she could have been amazed.

"Come." Scar said then, in a strange voice, like a recording, which surprised her.

"What ? Come where ?"

"Come." he only repeated, taking off his mask, revealing his monstrous face, and yet very human eyes. "Oxloq'inb'il, kaw rib' rochb'een. Yoo."

"Oh. You want me to come with you ?"

"Sei. Come."

She could have said no. But besides the fear of losing her head if she refused, Y/N was curious. Really, her boss would have found it hilarious. Scar purred loudly when she took his hand, visibly delighted that she followed him.

[summer-oil]

FOOLISH SPRING WINDS, BLOW MY WAY ; SATORU GOJO

summary; a snippet of the spring you share with a certain satoru gojo — who seems intent on making your high school life as difficult as possible.

word count; 5.4k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, enemies to friends (..but the ’enemy’ part is kinda one-sided), fluffy n sweet overall, satoru doesn’t know how to make friends + thinks lighthearted bullying constitutes as a bonding activity, he’s a little shit but he means well, switching povs, lots of gojo slander (but reader sees the light eventually), big shoujo vibes, they’re both tsunderes <33

a/n; i ended up scrapping the series i wrote this fic for originally, so i thought i’d rewrite it and repost it on its own!! teentoru is such a grumpy little kitten i need to squish his paws

satoru gojo is annoying.

it might seem blunt, but after many weeks of careful thinking, you’ve decided no description could possibly fit him better. 

when you first met him, on that first day of school, you had no idea what to think. no real expressions or tonal shifts to clue you in on who he was, how he felt — nothing but the slightest peek of a terrifying blue to set your nerves on edge. 

in hindsight, you’re almost certain it was intentional. he wanted to appear unreadable. purposefully hiding his personality and mannerisms, to gain the upper hand — observing you, dissecting you inside his mind, while revealing nothing about himself apart from his surname. 

it’s a kind of power; a safety measure.

… but evidently, holding back isn’t exactly gojo’s forte. the very next morning, he was already beginning to loosen up, after getting more accustomed to the new environment and classmates. showing you his true colours; just a little hint of cerulean, a single dip of paint on the blank canvas of his soul.

and with the revelation of his genuine personality — your unease around him festered even more.

where could you even begin to describe him? for one, he’s childish. and cocky. and loud. arrogant, selfish and flamboyant — just generally an asshole? you could go on and on. none of the traits are particularly flattering, and you know he couldn’t care less.

gojo is annoying, plain and simple. almost constantly up to something, eager to push someone’s buttons, to get attention. like a bratty toddler. uninterested in manners, or even common courtesy; he says what he feels, regardless of how other people take it. 

to put it simply, he has no regard for the people around him. his self-interest is limitless. 

as if that wasn’t annoying enough — you have no choice but to admit that he does have a certain presence to him. a kind of charisma, or what you think could become charisma, if he’d just get off that high horse already. he won’t, though. you know he won’t. he revels in it, in looking down on everything and everyone, annoyingly boisterous and irritatingly tall. freaky, long limbs. like a noodle and an alien had a baby.

but, more than anything — above all else — what frustrates you most is the fact that his unbridled confidence isn’t exactly unwarranted.

as much as it pains you to say it… gojo is maybe just a little bit incredible. a natural-born genius. he’s intelligent, and observant, and awfully pretty, with those baby blues eyes and those snowy locks of hair. and he has no issue getting what he wants. 

absolutely zero. 

there’s something admirable about it, in a twisted way. like he doesn’t even need to try. he’s good at anything, if he just gives it a single chance. you can only assume he’s never given much thought to the prospect of being a decent guy, because that’s the only thing he sucks at.

effortlessly perfect, in the most imperfect of ways. that’s probably how you’d describe him.

… annoying is still the most fitting word, though. or maybe obnoxious. he’s got this spoiled rich kid vibe that irks you, gets under your skin. you doubt he’s ever had to empathize with anyone, in his entire life. 

and, yes — maybe you’re being a little harsh to him. but why should you bother being jovial when he won’t return the favour?

gojo is annoying; and when you say that, you mean annoying to basically everyone. as a basis for existing. always teasing and taunting, looking down from that high horse of his. you’re no exception to this rule, of course. but you’re almost certain that he has it out for you specifically.

you know he looks down on you, from behind those tacky sunglasses. you’re sure of it.

compared to geto or shoko, you aren’t very self-assured — and you think he must have sensed it the moment he laid eyes on you. sensed that you’re a little meek, a bit of a doormat, easy to push around and get a rise out of. maybe he also noticed your apprehension towards him, your apparent unease. 

you’re easy prey, to put it simply.

evidently, he’s developed a fondness for getting under your skin. it started as soon as introductions were over, and it still hasn’t gotten better. he loves catching you off guard, throwing you an unneeded comment or two, just to see what reaction you’ll give him next. almost like he’s solving an equation — said equation being you, the limit of your patience. and you keep giving him what he wants; a scoff, a roll of your eyes, an earnest fuck right off. you can never seem to successfully ignore him. he’s just far, far too good at being insufferable.

… and, more than anything, he’s far too out of reach. even when you try to get along with him, it backfires. you don’t have a single thing in common. you don’t understand him at all. 

(and that suits you just fine.)

a heavy sigh slips from your parted lips, as you examine your blurry reflection in the surface of the mirror. fatigue clings to your skin like a layer of sweat, your mind muddled, stuffed with anxious thoughts and discomforting feelings.

you’re exhausted. completely and utterly spent, even though the day’s barely begun — running on three pitiful hours of sleep, all broken up and jumbled by nightmares that wouldn’t stop spooking you. not a single wink of proper rest. 

and it’s painfully obvious. in your face, your posture, the dark crescents beneath your eyes; in the way you can’t help but drag your legs as you walk, your hair disheveled, little sighs and grumbles slipping from your lips for every step you take. all you can do is sluggishly blink the exhaustion away.

you just feel so tired.

it could be worse, though. you don’t have any classes today, no real reason to get out of your comfy bed, leave the safety of your cozy little dorm room. but you need breakfast, right now, or else you’ll literally explode — so you still get up on shaky legs and try to mimic the appearance of someone… even moderately well-rested.

it doesn’t work, but that’s besides the point. 

so you make your way to the dormitory’s shared kitchen. walking idly — clumsily — enjoying the sight of fleeting, fluttering cherry blossoms through the windows you pass. little pink butterflies.

once you’ve crossed the threshold, you’re relieved to find the open space entirely devoid of people. no shoko, no geto, not even a mischievous gojo. running into the first two wouldn’t be the end of the world — but it still wouldn’t be ideal. you don’t want anyone seeing you like this, tired and meek, a little vulnerable.

(least of all gojo. you shiver at the bare thought.)

with laboured, groggy movements, you waltz around the kitchen, getting cups and plates and turning on the coffee machine. enjoying the soothing melody of the pan sizzling, singing along to the purring of espresso being made. it’s nice and pleasant to your sensitive ears, as you blink under the rays of sunlight shining in, throwing together a lazy breakfast. 

you waste no time in taking a seat by one of the tables once you’re finished. eager to soak in the peace and quiet, wolf down a sandwich and copious amounts of caffeine.

but, as always — the world seems to have it out for you specifically.

”oh? well, look who it is. and here i thought you had left too.”

you stiffen. ever so slightly, barely noticeable, but still enough that you physically feel the dread envelop every single cell of your body. the voice that echoes out across the open air is a chipper one, a familiar one. a voice you were desperately hoping not to hear today. 

all you can do is continue to sip from your cup of coffee, inwardly wincing, silently going through all five stages of grief simultaneously — before accepting your unfortunate predicament. 

(that’s just your luck, isn’t it?)

finally, you raise your weary head, knowing exactly what sight you’ll be met with once you do. 

and, lo and behold — there he is.

gojo looks the same as always. grinning brightly, a little woflish, wearing those ugly sunglasses and making his way across the room like he owns it. a trait you can’t help but admire, envy, hate and worship at the same time. he plops down next to you like it’s nothing, a little too close for comfort, unconcerned about your concept of personal space.

”whatcha up to?” he chirps, in that sugar sweet tone, layered over with a boyish kind of excitement. there’s a teasing tilt to it, too — the one that always accompanies his voice when he’s speaking to you.

under normal circumstances, you’d flip him off. maybe even just glare at him, silently, or raise a brow in challenge.

but you’re far, far too tired to. too anxious. too in need of sleep, in need of a peaceful breakfast that he oh so cruelly ripped from you. all you can muster is the energy to glance his way.

for just a second, your eyes meet. not like you can actually see them, from behind his glasses — but you know they’re there. menacing and uncanny, bright and excited. too much to handle, right now.

”… morning.”

as soon as the mutter has left your lips, you take a tentative bite of your sandwich. gaze trailing sluggishly back to your plate.

gojo blinks.

he immediately notes that your voice sounds meek. even more so than usual. he expected you to give him a scoff, or even just a timid huff — but no such luck. 

you’re just sitting there, quiet, curling into yourself.

after a moment’s consideration, gojo opts to look at you. to really look at you, study your face, the way those twitchy fingers move to curl around the ceramic handle of the cup you’re drinking out of. the way your eyes shift from place to place, unfocused, your eyelids flicking shut every couple seconds. slow.

he’s always been observant — but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re tired. 

gojo is silent, for no more than a mere moment; contemplating his next course of action. he’s never seen you like this, before. did something happen?

…

(— well, it doesn’t matter. not his problem.)

”you look like a zombie,” he grins, a little teasing, showing off the white of his teeth. even though you look out of it, he can’t help himself — despite his own intuition telling him to let you be. 

you’re just too fun to tease. suguru and shoko only ever raise their eyebrows at him, or stare him down like a misbehaving dog, but you always have a good reaction to give. something to entertain him when he’s bored, distract him when his mind is too full of noise. 

so he can’t help but tease you, a little. hoping it’ll soothe the restlessness inside his chest.

but for once, what gojo expects isn’t what he gets. 

what he expects is for you to glare at him. tell him to leave you alone, or even just sigh in exasperation — either one would be fine. it’s just mindless enjoyment, to him, a little fun to lighten up his day. 

especially now, when suguru is away on some day trip he wasn’t privy to. that traitor. shoko is nowhere to be seen, either, probably off smoking in some random alleyway. or hanging out with one of the kyoto losers.

… the whole dorm is so eerily quiet.

(gojo would never admit it, not in a thousand years… but maybe he’d feel just a little bit lonely without any of you around.)

for a while after waking up, he assumed he’d have to spend the whole day alone. no one to talk to, no one to look at. he was practically dying of boredom. but then he entered the kitchen — and saw his saving grace. his dear little irritable classmate. 

he was so relieved. content in the knowledge that he’d get to push your buttons to his heart’s desire, bask in your playful banter and cold, joking little looks until suguru finally comes home.

only this time — you don’t react at all. 

you don’t give him what he expects, don’t indulge his little antics, in the way he’s grown so accustomed to. you just keep eating your breakfast, and drinking your coffee, in total silence. 

gojo waits, just a couple moments more. hoping for a delayed reaction, a witty counter, a snarky comment. anything. 

but it never comes.

finally, he starts to sulk. slumping against the leather seat behind him, quieting down with a low huff. furrowing his brows, as his glossy, cherry-tasting lips curl down into a little pout.

honestly, he’s kind of annoyed. just what is your problem? what is with you, today? 

… it’s no fun if you’re not playing along. 

gojo can’t help but grumble, a little, under his breath. you’re usually so responsive, so easy to rile up. so what’s wrong? why are you just sitting there?

…

whatever. so what if you’re not talking to him? so what if you won’t even spare him a glance? gojo has better things to do, bigger fish to fry. he wasn’t even that excited, when he saw you. the thought of bantering with you didn’t lift his spirits, even in the slightest. 

not even a little bit.

…

but, really — would it take so much effort for you to just say something? to just respond to his friendly little quip? you can’t possibly be that tired. 

or, what — did you get insecure, or something? because he called you a zombie? no way. you’re not that sensitive… are you? or is that it? 

what a hassle.

you know he’s just messing with you. he knows you know. so why are you acting so…. 

(sad, gojo wants to think, but he buries the thought before it can reach his frontal cortex. he doesn’t want to empathize with you, not right now — doesn’t want to feel that discomforting pang in his chest.)

a strange sensation bubbles up in his chest. something frustrated, a little unnerved; at your lack of a reaction, the weak glint in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand why — and that frustrates him even more. 

why can’t you just bite back, like always?

(… it’s fun when you do.)

the silence lingers on, stretches out across the room, festers and grows as you gulp down your breakfast. all while gojo keeps on sulking, still sitting beside you, waiting for something to happen. he briefly considers getting up and leaving, or saying something annoying to hopefully spur you on —

but you stand up before he can convince himself to go through with either option.

having finished your breakfast, your legs carry you to the sink. finally, you can head back to your room. gojo’s being weirdly quiet, but you pay no mind to it; methodically washing your dishes in silence. 

you don’t bother saying goodbye to him, either. still sitting there, seemingly deep in thought, grumbling something under his breath. 

he watches as you leave, gaze trailing after you, until you’re completely out of sight. 

then he lays down, flat on his back, with a frustrated huff. trying desperately to brush away the memory of your dim eyes, the slight frown on your lips. the dark circles under your eyes, that he tried so hard not to notice because they made him feel so weirdly uncomfortable. the meek, meek look you gave him.

gojo sighs.

(he feels just a tiny, tiny bit bad.)

when you wake up from your slumber, you immediately note that your body feels lighter.

this time, no nightmares came to haunt you. having practically collapsed once your head hit the pillow, your body finally decided to give you some peace of mind, some well needed rest. thankfully.

with a groan, you lazily stretch out your limbs — enjoying the feeling of your veins waking up, gaze falling on the clock on your wall. you’ve only been asleep for about two hours, or so, but it’s more than enough to give you the little jolt of energy that you need.

what to do, what to do. you still have the whole day ahead of you. another nap wouldn’t hurt, but you don’t want to waste your precious free time just rotting in bed — maybe you could take a walk around the schoolyard instead? the cherry blossoms have started to unfurl, and the grounds of the school are just littered with them.

even just the mental image is enough to have you changing into some light and comfortable clothes, reaching a hand out to push your door open. excitement stirring in your veins.

as you do so, something is knocked over.

all you hear is a soft little thud, accompanied by the sensation of something colliding with the door. a low curiosity overtakes you — eagerly peeking around for a look at the mysterious something.

your gaze falls on something pink.

it’s tiny, awfully out of place, just laying unassumingly on the dusty floorboards. as you crouch down to get a better look, you recognize it instantly; a small carton of strawberry milk. a plastic straw plastered on its side, and an evil looking cow mascot staring at you from the front. one of the items sold in the schoolyard’s vending machines — your personal favorite. you drink it every time you need a tiny pick-me-up, the sweet taste always managing to soothe your spirits.

and it was sitting right outside your door.

you stare at it, silently, in deep contemplation. holding it in your hand as the gears turn inside your head. could someone have dropped it? no, that’s dumb — who’d drop it right outside your door and then not pick it up?

… did someone leave it for you, then? because they know you like it? that could be it, maybe, but who would —

…

your mind stills. 

(no way.)

when you think about it — that’s the only explanation that makes sense. shoko and geto aren’t there, and you barely know any of your senior students. yaga-sensei would never give you strawberry milk without a lecture on the dangers of cavities, either.

that just leaves one possible culprit.

but you can’t wrap your head around it. why would he do something like that? he doesn’t like you — you know that much. so it couldn’t possibly be him.

… then again, you have seen him drink it. both of you like it, contrary to your other classmates; shoko doesn’t like sweet things in general, and geto wouldn’t go for strawberry milk if he could choose something else. it might as well be the only thing you and gojo have in common — the one thing that binds you two together. 

a single carton of strawberry milk. 

it’s almost comical.

(if it’s really true — if he really did do it… then you wonder why. maybe he noticed that you were feeling under the weather, and figured it’d make you happy. 

you wonder if it’d be foolish of you, to believe that it’s true — if only because you kinda like the idea.)

your feet move on their own, before your mind has a chance to question the decision. 

where could he be? in the kitchen, still? in his dorm?

just as you begin to wonder, a flash of white dances in the corners of your vision. when you glance out the window, you see it; white, soft hair, like a fluffy cloud, in the midst of all the pink petals fluttering about. 

you stop.

then you start walking again. with more decision, this time. hurrying to the exit.

gojo is sitting right outside the dormitory, on a wooden bench, legs swinging idly as he gazes at the sky. his hair sways slightly with the breeze, soft strands moving and caressing his skin. pink petals dance all around him, gracefully descending down to the ground, together with a trail of bubbles. gojo is blowing them, haphazardly, following their movement with his keen eyes. they glimmer in the sunlight, reflecting all shades of the rainbow.

the sight is just a little bit breathtaking. 

the ground crunches beneath your feet, when you take a step forward — and gojo turns towards you. you stiffen like a deer in headlights, instantly regretting your decision. blinking nervously. you walked here almost entirely on impulse, but now that you’re face to face…

(it’s a little scary.)

… still, it’s far too late to back out now. you can’t do much except join him, so that’s exactly what you do — albeit a little hesitantly.

trying to ignore his continuous stare, burning into the side of your head, you plop down beside him. feeling the steady bench beneath you, breathing in the scent of sweet-smelling cherries and soap.

an uncomfortable silence lingers in the air around you both, as he waits for you to say something. 

it’s a little tough. mustering up the courage to say anything, even just to face him. the decisiveness you felt just a moment ago has faded, now only the ghost of a sensation — you’re too nervous to verbalize anything.

but eventually, after a deep breath or two, you force yourself to speak. hoping you won’t come to regret it.

”… hey, gojo?” 

it’s almost a whisper. soft and fragile, mumbled beneath your breath as you stare at the cherry trees in front of you. you know his eyes are on you, though. you can feel them, almost feel their weight in the palm of your hand. like marbles.

weakly, you raise up the carton of strawberry milk. glancing over at him, not quite managing a smile, but trying your best to look somewhat appreciative. 

”thanks.”

a confused blink. gojo looks down the strawberry milk, and then back up at you. eyelashes fluttering.

a moment passes. 

then he turns his head away, swiftly, his hair tousled by the movement — a couple pink petals stuck between the soft strands. you can’t see his face anymore.

”i have no idea what you’re talking about,” he huffs, with a voice you’ve never heard him speak through.

when you look a little closer — you think the tips of his ears may be just slightly red. it makes your lips curl up into a small smile, but you barely feel it.

(like this, he’s actually kind of cute.)

cherry blossoms flutter in the wind, dancing joyously, without a care in the world. a spring breeze ruffles gojo’s hair, as he sits beside you, having begun to blow his bubbles again. not saying a word, and looking straight ahead. but you can’t help but stare, as sneakily as you can muster.

you find yourself thinking that he looks right at home, among the petals. fleeting, hard to get a grasp on, so pretty, and so out of reach — despite being so close. 

if you wanted to, you could reach over and touch him. you could reach for his sunglasses, lift them off his face, and finally see those eyes he’s so intent on hiding. you could see him, see straight into his soul — and find out who he really is.

you won’t, though. some boundaries aren’t meant to be so callously crossed.

instead, you puncture the pink carton in your hand with the plastic straw, and take a tentative sip. the sweet taste soothes you, straight away, blooming on your tongue. you can’t help but sigh, softly, relaxing even further — it’s absolutely perfect, for this kind of weather. the sight before you, cherry petals and shining bubbles, a boy you don’t like, but definitely don’t hate. 

you both look up, following the bubbles with your eyes, as they float up into the sky; as they get smaller and smaller, farther and farther out of reach. neither of you say a word, but the silence is comforting. light. 

gojo is the first one to break it — in a voice so small you barely hear it.

”… you don’t look like a zombie.”

a second passes. you’re left blinking in confusion, trying to decipher the sudden statement. you can’t get a good read on his expression, with those eyes of his conveniently hidden; he must have regained his composure, then.

it takes a couple seconds for his words to sink in — but once they do, all pieces seem to fall into place. 

and you burst into laughter.

gojo blinks at you, caught off guard, his eyelashes flapping like a little dove scrambling to get off the ground — staring at you like you just grew a second head. that makes you laugh harder, a bout of giggles spilling past your lips — you just can’t help it. 

”did —” you wheeze, softly, thoroughly amused. trying and failing to bite back the laughter. ”did you think i was bothered by that, or something?”

gojo looks at you. a little stunned, for a moment. the sight only makes your smile bloom further, eyes crinkled as you meet his gaze. from the angle you’re viewing him through, leaning back against the bench, you catch a glimmer of his eyes. they’re awfully pretty — blue and bright, full of life. when you look closer, you can see tiny, tiny splotches of white. 

they look like the blue sky. 

you called them menacing, before, but now you aren’t so sure. they seem soft, in the sunlight, especially when seen like this — right after catching him off guard. it’s a rare moment, terribly precious. something to savour.

gojo doesn’t let it linger, though. 

after a moment of two, he scoffs — turning away yet again. a soft, soft pout on his lips.

”obviously not,” he huffs, sounding nothing but irritated, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm. ”but with how sensitive you are, i wouldn’t be surprised.”

usually, a comment like that would irk you. now it just makes you giggle, lightheartedly — the tips of his ears turning redder at the sound. 

(he really isn’t so bad, after all.)

for a while, you don’t say anything else. afraid of ruining the tender atmosphere. you feel closer to gojo than ever before — and you wonder if maybe this is the gojo that geto sees. childish, but well meaning. arrogant and cocky, but oddly innocent. selfish — but not really. you’re starting to think that you may have been slightly off, with that one.

the strawberry milk on your tongue tastes sweet. a little sweeter than usual, though you choose not to dwell on it.

”hey,” you break the silence, surprising even yourself. the words fall from your lips like soft little breaths, rolling off your tongue like marbles pouring out of a glass bottle. ”i don’t dislike you, you know?”

it’s an impulsive admission. saying it out loud doesn’t feel wrong, though. maybe a little humiliating, sure, but not wrong. not dishonest.

you suspect that gojo may be looking at you, out of the corner of his eye, but you aren’t sure. after all, you’re vehemently avoiding his gaze — a little embarrassed by your own sincerity. 

he doesn’t know how to respond. you’re being strangely unpredictable, today, and it makes him feel unsure of himself. your tone is soft, almost friendly. he only ever hears it when you’re talking to shoko or geto.

not learning his lesson, gojo opts to tease you again. as always. afraid to let the silence linger for too long. it’s a halfhearted attempt, though, more of a vaguely amused huff than anything. 

”what, got a crush on me or somethin’?”

this time, you don’t scoff, or roll your eyes, or give him an earnest fuck right off. you only chuckle, in a way that almost borders on fond. you’re not one to tease, contrary to the boy on your left, but your words are teasing even still. ”i have better taste than that.” 

gojo should be irked, should grumble and bite back, but you don’t give him the chance to. 

”i just… you know,” you taste the words on your tongue. ”i still think you’re annoying. and childish.” gojo huffs, and your lips curl up. ”but i really don’t dislike you.”

you take a sip of the strawberry milk, before continuing, hoping it’ll make the words easier to say. ”… and it’s not like i know you, anyway. so i’m sorry for making a bunch of assumptions.” 

a pause. for a split second, you quiet down, a little flustered. gnawing on your bottom lip.

”… that’s all i wanted to say,” you exhale, gaze glued to your lap. feeling a heat on your nape.

as always, you can’t tell what gojo’s thinking. out of the corner of your eye, you try to catch a glimpse of his face, but you have a nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t tell you anything anyway. his eyes are hidden by those sunglasses, after all, acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world. so you don’t know if the words reach him, if they mean anything at all. 

but you hope they do. even as you brush cherry petals and non-existent dust off your lap, and get up to leave.

gojo just sits there, for a second, deep in contemplation. 

he tries to bury a certain thought, before it has a chance to reach his frontal cortex — before he has to accept that it exists. only this time, he doesn’t succeed. the words die before they reach his tongue, but he hears them, in his head. he hears them loud and clear.

and he flushes under the light of the sun.

(i don’t really dislike you, either.) 

what actually ends up leaving his throat is merely a scoff, so faint he doubts you even hear it. 

”whatever,” he mutters, hoping it’ll come across as cool and unbothered. it doesn’t.

one last smile reaches your face, before you head back inside. gojo stays behind, on the bench, lost in thought.

tossing the now-empty carton into a trash can, you try to calm yourself down. feeling oddly excited, as if you’ve reached something, the start of an eventual conclusion. something worth cherishing.

you still don’t understand satoru gojo. but you get the impression that you just grew a little bit closer to him. there are layers to him, more than what meets the eye, hidden behind those sunglasses of his. you can only imagine what the world might look like, from his perspective. what you look like, reflected in his eyes, a blur of colours and facial features, sparks and dots.

you wonder if the whole world looks like a painting, to him. 

you feel a little ashamed, for thinking you had him all figured out. a spoiled, self-centered rich kid, with no functional empathic abilities. it might be partially true, but you’ll have to reevaluate the statement. to see how well it holds up. you still don’t think his emotional intelligence is anything to gawk at, but you may have been underestimating it. it’s there, despite everything — in those eyes, in that single carton of strawberry milk.

you think there’s a certain maturity, there, in spite of his childishness. or perhaps the latter is no more than a product of the former, a way for damaged children to dress their wounds. the way he carries himself and the way he speaks both seem a bit forced. like he’s used to performing, used to moving in a way that demands attention. all eyes on him, at all times. 

you think that sounds just a little exhausting. 

even as you return to the safety of your dorm room, you still can’t help but wonder. there’s still so much you don’t know. despite the moment you shared, and the connection you think may be growing between you, he’s still so out of reach. almost lonely, in a way. you wonder what he looks like, when he’s alone, when there’s no one around to perform for. 

(what is an actor without their audience?)

and, despite everything, after all is said and done — you really, really don’t understand satoru gojo. not at all, not in the slightest. not one bit.

but you think you’d maybe like to.

[littlefanficprincess]

Below The Surface

Tmnt 2012 x (Fem) reader

2k

Synopsis: The turtles reunite with a childhood friend.

(A/n): The timeline is changed a bit, they are let out to the surface for the first time but before April was kidnapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moving to a new place is not something you can used to easily, especially a big city like New York. It wouldn't be surprising that parents would lose their child on the first day.

"Ow..." A small voice mumbles as a girl falls on her arms and legs, her shoes, socks and (skirt/shorts) were soaked by the sewer water.

The four years old had tripped into an uncovered manhole and fell in. Who would even leave open a manhole like that?

"You shouldn't have gone up there, what if master Splinter finds out?"

"It was only a peek, he won't know a thing"

"Wait, what was that noise?"

"It was coming from over there"

(Y/n) pushes herself off the ground, trying to shake the water out of her shoes. She squints her big (e/c) eyes when she sees four sillouettes heading her way. They were a bit shorter than her.

When they get close enough, the light escaping through the manhole illuminate their forms. Short humanoid green creatures black eyes, slight differences between them. They looked like they were straight out of an alien movie, but just with shells instead.

"What is that thing?" One with a bandaid on its cheek asks, disgust on its face."It looks like us, is that fur coming out of its head?" The tallest one observes.

"We shouldn't go near, it could be dangerous" The plain looking one warns the others.

"So cool!" The one with freckles smiles, didn't seem to be listening. He approaches the girl with curiosity "What are you?"

(Y/n) tilts her head as he leaned in closer. "I am a human, nice to meet you...turtles?"

"It can talk!" The bandaged turtle yells, pointing at her. They haven't seen any other species beside the rat that had cared for them since before they could even remember.

Then it was the tall turtle that began walking up to her. He stands behind her, pulling on her hair. He watches as her head would slightly tilt back as he pulled.

"Ow, that hurts" (Y/n) complains, pulling away from his grip. "It's not fur, it's hair"

"Hair...interesting" The tall turtle mumbles in amazement.Hesitation leaves the bandaged one's mind, deciding to join his brothers.

"Wait, Raph–" The plaine turtle calls out, but was ignored. First they break the 'no going to the surface' rule and now they are interacting with a 'you-man'.

'Raph' scowls, eyeing the human child. "Are all of you 'you-mans' this ugly?" He questions, poking at her cheek. "Why is it so squishy?"

The remaining turtle sighs as he realised he failed to get his brothers to listen to him. He follows after, standing next to the others. He judges aside Raph, looking straight into the girl's eyes. "Your eyes" he mentions.

His words catches the attention of the turtle with freckles. He leans over, looking at her eyes aswell. (Y/n) just saw two pair of black beady ones. "They're pretty! Like that big shiny rock master Splinter has"

"It's called a gemstone, Mikey" The turtle next to him corrects him.

"Gemstones, I like it!" Freckle throws his arms around (Y/n)'s shoulder, rubbing his cheek against hers. "Can we keep it, I will care for it real good!"

"I'm not a pet, you know" (Y/n) pouts, crossing her arms.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes"

"We can't, we have already been away for too long" Plaine argues.

"Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo?" They hear someone calls out.

In a flash, the turtles had dissapeared. (Y/n) looks around confused, wondering where they went. She looks back up the manhole opening, seeing a ladder on the wall below.

Not having much choice, she climbed up it. She snuck out of the alleyway, being met with the sunlight. She was soon found by her parents, her dads didn't believe her story about talking turtles. They wrote it off as it being her imagination.

┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓

Timeskip

┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛

Then twelve years later, (Y/n) lays awake in her bed. Everytime she closed her eyes, she finds them open again. She gives up trying to sleep and gets out of bed.

She opens the door to her balcony and takes a seat on her balcony. She looks up at the sky, she would see stars if the air wasn't so polluted. She squints her eyes when she sees something on the roof of the building that was in the other side of the street.

(Y/n) gets up and leans on the railing, trying to get a good look. Were those...turtles? Each wearing a different colored badana, blue, purple, red and finally orange.

The shortest turtle stops in place, turning towards her. The two make eye contact, both not moving an inch. She hears one of the other turtles call out to him, so he runs off.

'Those guys were real this whole time. I'm not hallucinating, right? Are they ninja now? Would they remember me? Probably not'

┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓

Timeskip

┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛

(Y/n)'s eyes snap open when she hears knocking on her window. She pushes aside the curtain to see the shortest turtle hanging upside infront of her window.

She gets up from her bed and opens the door to her balcony. She watches as he lands on the balcony, a big smile on his face. She barely gets time to react as he pulls her into a tight hug.

"Gemstone! I thought I'd never see you again" He says, excitedly. Then letting go of her, bouncing up and down.

"You still remember me?" (Y/n) says surprised. She regonised as the turtle with freckles, his skin was more on the lime side compared to his brothers.

The turtles grabs her face, squishing her cheeks. "How could I forgot this cute face. Also I remember you by your eyes, so shiny like gemstones" He cooes.

(Y/n) graps his three fingered hands, pulling them down, but not letting go. "You have a great memory. My name is (Y/n), nice to meet you"

"The name is Michelangelo" He steps back, pulling out a pair of nunchucks and spinning it around. "But most people call me Mikey" His eyes suddenly light up, getting an idea. "What if I bring you to lair, I can't wait to see their reactions"

Looking back into her room, the girl thinks. "My dads aren't home, so they won't notice... It couldn't hurt, right" She slightly shrugs her shoulders.

She watches as he turns around and hunges over. "Get on!" Hesitantly, (Y/n) does as he says and climbs onto his back. She grips tightly his shoulders as he holds her legs. She tries her best to not scream her head off as Mikey jumps off the balcony and onto the next roof.

┏━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┓

Timeskip

┗━°⌜ 赤い糸 ⌟°━┛

Quietly, Mikey leads (Y/n) into lair. She hides behind his shell as he shuffle towards his room. His brothers didn't pay too much attention to him. Leo was watching a tv show, Donnie was in his lab and Raph was reading something.

The turtles and his human friend sneak into the bedroom. (Y/n) tenses up when the foul smell of dirty clothes and moldy food hit her nose, it was definitely worse than the smell of the sewers.

"I'll be right back, gotta do something real quick. stay here" Mikey says, as if he was he talking to a dog. He slowly walks out and closes the door behind.

(Y/n) looks at the mess covering the bedroom. She folded the dirty underwear, questioning why he would even wear them.

Raphael eyes his brother as Mikey walks out of his room. He hears something coming from the room, sounding like things being moved. It couldn't be any of his brothers, meaning there was an intruder.

He gets up from the couch, pulling out one of his sai. He strolls over to Mikey's room, slowly opening the door. There he finds a girl, folding clothing. She didn't seem to have heard him. He puts the sai towards her. "What do you think you're doing here?" He questions her.

Flinching at the unfamiliar voice, (Y/n) realises she had been caught. She slightly turns her, looking who was standing behind her.

A turtle, a bit taller than Mikey. He wore a dark red bandana, which was a bit tattered. There was a small crack in the front of his shell, makes (Y/n) connect him with the turtle who had a bandaid on their cheek. Then she notices the weapon he had pointed her. "Um...I come on peace" She akwardly smiles.

-

Walking out of Mikey's room was Raph, pointing his weapon at a girl who was walking infront of him. "Look at what I found doing laundry in Mikey's garbage dump".

Leo looks away from the Tv, wondering what his brother was talking about. His face turn to surprise and then to fear "A human!?".

"Apparently Mikey got followed back here, not sure why you would good his underwear" Raph mutters, poking the girl's back with his sai.

The door lab opens, revealing Donnie. He pulls his goggles from his eyes, putting it on his forhead. "What is going on, I heard yelling" He looks at Lei, than Raph and then... "A human!?" He puts his hands over his mouth, realising that he could've alerted master Splinter.

"That's what I'm asking"

(Y/n) holds up her hands, trying to not get stabbed. "Listen, there is a good explanation for this"

A door slams open and Mikey comes running in. He stand between (Y/n) and his brothers, waving his arms. "Guys, guys, it's chill. It's just gemstone"

"Gemstone?" Donatello repeats, confused. He cautiously approaches.

"You mean the one we found in the sewers when we were little?" Leo asks, getting up himself. (Y/n) suspected him being the plain one and the tall one, being the tall one obviously.

Mikey crosses his arm, with a proud expression on his face. "The one and only" He brags, smiling.

Now being surrounded by the four turtles, (Y/n) realises how much they have grown. When she first met them, they were a bit smaller. But now they were almost towering over her.

Suddenly she feels a tug at her head, making her head tilt back. She realises it was one with the purple bandana, just like when they were little. "Ow, it's not fur..."

Donnie's eyes widen at her words. "...it's hair" He finishes the sentence. "Yeah, alright. It's her" He admits, feeling the texture of her hair.

"Anyways, my name is (Y/n). It's nice to meet you all again" (Y/n) introduces herself, fiddling with her sleeves.

The turtle with blue bandana places his hand on his chest. "I'm Leonardo, the one pulling your hair right now is Donatello and the angry looking one is Raphael, you already seem pretty familiar with Mikey"

"What is going on here?" Everyone seem to freeze when they hear master Splinter's voice. They turn to see him, looking stern at them.

"Sensei, I–" Leo tries to explain, but his defenses seem to melt away when he sees his father's gaze. Him and Raph step aside to reveal (Y/n).

"I let you go to the surface and you being back a human?" Master Splinter says, infuriated by his sons' decision.

Before any of the turtles could speak, (Y/n) steps forward. "Please, don't get angry at them, sir. It's not their fault. I had accidentally fallen into a manhole and wandered my way here, they were trying to get me out". The four brothers look surprised at her, not expecting her to lie for them.

The humanoid rat looks down at her, stroking his thin beard. "I must admit, taking the blame for them is quite honorable. But falling into the sewers is something you usually don't do twice".

"Twice? Wait, you knew?" Leonardo asks him.

"I have keen sense of smell and hearing, also you are pretty loud" Master Splinter explains, looking at (Y/n) once again. "Do you promise to keep our existence a secret from the rest of the world".

(Y/n) nods, looking up at him with a determined expression on her face"I won't tell a soul".

Master Splinter smiles, knowing that he could trust the girl. "Then you are welcome to reside here when you see as needed"

"Oh yeah!" Mikey cheer, pumping his fist. The other three couldn't help, but also be happy she gets to stay.

Their first human friend, reunited with them once again.

[itsgirlcraft]

@dracl-dragon

The uncanny alien au, as per request, ehehe!

It's based on this writing prompt:

(Damn it's crazy to think it's been 3 years since I wrote this-)

Anyyyywho- For most Steves, they're in the adorable category for humans (exceptions being certain villains, ie Faceless). This is a vague TSS/SSO au, where Sabre gets left behind on a new planet by his fellow space-researchers. Mogi and Spency took the emergency pod back to the ship after a few encounters with the Steves, leaving Sabre to fend for himself.

The story is written from Rainbow's perspective, who is currently defending the first village that took him in. He's not struggling nearly as much as he was in SSO, but isn't as powerful as he was in TSS. He was on a scouting mission when he found Sabre.

The Steves follow Minecraft logic, while Sabre follows real-life logic (mostly), which is where the uncanny valley comes into play. Like in early TSS, Steves speak backwards English, but since this is Rainbow's POV, Sabre's words are reversed instead.

The creature beyond the trees looked like me. It had a similar build.

Yet the skin..the face...its details were all wrong.

The way its body contorted itself in ways nothing like me should. Its limbs could twist backwards and sideways.

I took off into the forest when I saw its mouth twist into what I now understand is known as a smile. Its teeth were many, skin pale as birch wood..

It had strange stick-like protrusions at the tips of its hands. They each moved not unlike a tentacle.

All I could think about the creature was that it was like me.

But it so very clearly wasn't. The way its slender, oddly shaped limbs moved across the terrain sent shivers down my back. Never again would I dare come face-to-face with it.

I have been hidden in the trees for days now. The stranger hasn't left the open terrain of the plains.

I see how it hunts. What powers it lacks in, it more than makes up for in survivalist skills.

It ran its makeshift tools into the nearest peaceful fauna, an unelegant and gory mess in mere minutes. Yet without any powers, it was left with ten times the meat.

It made tools and weapons and shelter in a short period of time, and without any of my kind's abilities. One shouldn't be able to form a whole array of tools from nothing. Even the strongest of my kind had a very small range of objects or materials we could summon.

I have stayed here to observe this creature, I dare not imagine what it could do if I leave it alone.

But I dare not meet face-to-face. It may run from the fire and tides, but I have seen it has power over these very elements.

It scratched a piece of metal with a sharp black object, sparks lighting pieces of wood organized in a cone shape.

Did it just create fire?

I knew I should've returned to the elders at that moment. But what if it set the forest ablaze? I needed to be here. It was too unpredictable to leave alone.

I saw its talent in controlling the elements despite a lack of powers over the days following.

One evening there was a storm, and I decided to fly within its winds in hopes of frightening the stranger to leave this land.

I saw it building a tall tower near its shelter. What was it doing now?

I flew back down into the treeline, watching. It erected a strange metal structure at the top, red lines of...something connecting it to the bottom.

As I grew nervous, thunder boomed above. With that, the stranger jumped off, using a leash-like material to safely return to the ground.

That was possible?

My kind never needed climbing gear. We all could fly.

But that..that could make supplies easier to transfer to mountainous regions.

I was forced out of my thoughts when lightning striked. I immediately flew up as it flashed, blinding me. But what I saw was the red lines of the structure lighting up.

Did this creature just build a machine? What was it for?

The rest of the night was uneventful. The stranger stayed huddled up in its shelter. I almost considered checking out what it had made, but fear grew and I didn't want to get vaporized by whatever lightning-absorber machine this was.

The night after, I got up the courage to get close.

I refused to go anywhere near the shelter, but wanted desperately to figure out what it was that the stranger built.

"Curiosity killed the kaet," I had thought to myself as I slunk across treetops.

But that didn't stop me.

Until I heard a noise.

Not from in front of me.

Behind.

I turned, and there it stood. Barely two trees away.

Had it been following me?! Watching?? What did it want??

As thoughts raced, I took off into the sky.

It didn't follow.

Thank whatever up there who didn't let the stranger figure out flight yet.

My heart raced as I hovered in the air, turning back towards them.

Both of us stared at one another.

At least I think, its eyes were covered with fabric. How it could see, or if it could, still plagues me.

It held a long metal object defensively in its odd hands. A sword.

Great. This thing's a swordsman. And may or may not be blind.

Not a word was said.

But as I stayed floating there in the cool night air, it felt like the first time we saw each other.

I could see its torn clothing and tired stance. It didn't seem quite as horrid.

It still terrified me, don't think for a moment it didn't.

But maybe, just maybe it wasn't the destructive beast I thought it was.

We continued to just stay there, in the cool night air. Staring.

The longer I looked the more I wanted to look away. Its smaller size didn't make it cuter. It felt like it could climb into my body and kill me from the inside. Its long hands held the metal sword like a squeed latching onto a meal. Fear started creeping up my back.

I wanted to run.

The wind started picking up, the thing suddenly jumping out of the treetop.

I took that as my chance to fly out of there.

I looked up at the moon and stars, trying to calm myself. That thing saw me. It knows.

What do I do? It didn't attack. But maybe if I got closer it'd slice me to bits like an animal and devour me.

I shuddered at the mere thought.

It knew I knew it was there. Maybe it saw me before this. Maybe it didn't.

I couldn't return home until I was certain of its intentions. I needed to wait. Watch. Who knows what that machine does.

I missed home. I missed Belu. I missed a comfortable bed and house.

But it was my duty. I had to protect my kind from this..thing. If I left it unsupervised for even the rest of the night, it could do horrible things.

I wasn't just protecting my people, but the land too. This thing showed me that it can kill. It could burn the whole forest if it wanted, I bet.

I wasn't willing to take the chance.

I flew back down, checking the forest just in case it decided to ambush. Nothing.

I returned to the makeshift bed I made a ways away from the stranger. I packed it up every morning, so it was unlikely it'd see it.

Despite the discomfort that came with sleeping directly on a tree branch, I fell asleep instantly. I have no idea how the Gren do it. Then again, they're most connected with nature.

Perhaps one day I'd be able to tap into that side of me more. It'd be nice to just sleep wherever, whenever. Like a kaet.

I woke to the morning sun once again. I gathered my wool "bed" before looking for more food.

I knew the forest like the back of my hand so it was easy. A wolvvf pup ran past me, chasing another. The tiny pups were growing fast. They were so cute!

I had a quick breakfast of mishrumms and roots with some berraies for sweetness.

Back to watching. I needed to make sure the stranger didn't do anything major while I was resting.

I flew a bit closer, but stuck to the treetops as I got near. I spotted a..sign? There was definitely a wooden sign down there. I looked around, questioning if it was a trap.

I climbed out of the tree, making sure to check every nook and cranny before I even got near the sign.

Again, nothing.

Besides, it can't hide that well. It's literally wearing all white. Honestly, it looked almost like a chikeen in those weird clothes.

I crouched behind a tree, carefully peeking out. No sign of the creature. I crept out, getting closer to the wood sign before me.

I was surprised to find it was in my language. How would it know my language?!

I was terrified of what it could mean. But I read the sign.

It read:

"I mean no harm. Not evil. Can not find home. Just surviving."

Was that a...flower it drew below the message? Yes, that was definitely a flower.

Why was it in my language? How did it know it? Why did it leave a sign for me?

Was it wanting peace? Or to trick me?

I had so many questions yet none would be answered if I didn't respond somehow.

I noticed an empty sign leaning against a tree, grabbing it. I wrote, "What do you want? Peace? Supplies?"

It was as I finished writing that I heard a noise. Oh no, it was back! I dropped the sign and flew into the trees.

It didn't go after me. It went to the sign first. It moved towards my previous location with its skinny, oddly shaped legs. It held a pickaxe in its hands and was covered in dust.

It put the pickaxe onto a belt of some sort, grabbing the sign with its tentacle-tipped hands.

It stood there for a bit. It suddenly looked up, almost right at me.

It put the sign down and picked up the one it wrote on, clearing the ink away and writing something else.

I waited tensely, wondering if I should run or try to hide more or directly engage with it..

I just stayed right there. Frozen. My heart raced.

It stopped writing. It looked up again.

Did it see me?! I tried to hide myself more, using the green colors in my form to try to hide the rest of me.

It walked to the base of a tree. Directly below me. I shut my eyes, hoping it wasn't about to climb up and get me or burn the tree or worse.

I heard dirt being dug into, followed by footsteps getting quieter and quieter.

I opened my eyes. The stranger has returned to its shelter. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding in.

I glanced to the shelter. Wondering if I should just go. I know its intentions now.

But what if it had written something important? What if it says it wants...I don't know, meat or blood?! What could happen if I left it alone then?!

Fighting nerves, I slid down the tree trunk. I crouched to read the sign.

"Yes. Peace. I can not leave until I have supplies to return home."

I stared at the sign. I still couldn't tell if it was trying to trick me or not.

I realized I couldn't keep this up. I was sleepy still and this thing hasn't actually hurt anyone besides a couple animals, and that was for food. Doesn't mean it wasn't savage and bloody and mildly traumatizing.

It didn't seem evil, that's it. I had dealt with actual evils, though they were like me. So that doesn't quite work.

But I was tired and over watching this thing.

I turned, realizing it spotted me.

I froze again.

It stared.

At least I think. That cloth around its face made it hard to tell.

It suddenly had a...flower? A flower in its hand. It slowly moved out of its shelter. Those gangly limbs still freaked me out.

It was closer than last time now.

Seeing it closer made me panic. I wanted to run but I was frozen. Everything told me to not trust it.

Then it laid the flower down before me and backed away.

My limbs unfroze. I almost considered running. But instead I picked up the flower and put it in my hair.

The two of us shared a moment of understanding. Both wary of the other yet no longer afraid.

It really wasn't evil. Just absolutely terrifying.

I finally spoke.

"What is your name?" I spoke slowly, trying to hide the fear creeping in just by looking at them.

They cocked their head to the side. Could they not understand me?

I cocked my head to the side too.

They suddenly pulled out a device. Some sort of translator perhaps?

I spoke again.

"What is your name?"

I heard the click of a button before and after.

They hit another button and the same thing I just said suddenly repeated again! It was confusing at first, heh. Then they clicked another button and it was being said in..reverse??

I couldn't tell what they just did. But it seemed that they held a tiny machine that helped them understand me.

They nodded and clicked a button and spoke.

"Uoy? erbaS si eman ym," they said.

They clicked another button. This time their voice spoke but I understood!

"My name is Sabre. You?"

"I am Raynboew."

They repeated my voice again, but changed so they understood.

They "smiled," but without showing their many teeth and bowed.

I bowed too.

Finally, I could return home!

[22ayla21]

A Pact with the Demon of War

Previous part

Having made a deal with the demon, she hoped to give only her soul, but instead found herself drawn into a world where her strength became a curse, and her humanity—the highest price.

She regained consciousness in a world where the sun seemed to have been forgotten. A thick crimson mist enveloped the sky, and beneath her feet stretched an endless plain covered in black ash. The smell of sulfur and blood ate into her lungs, and even the air felt alien, hostile. She rose, staggering, but her feet sank into this cursed earth, as if the world itself were trying to drag her into its depths.

"Welcome to my domain, warrior," Mydeimos's voice echoed from nowhere, enveloping her from all sides. He emerged from the darkness, tall, majestic, alien. His eyes burned with crimson flames, and his lips twisted into a smirk. "Are you still trying to resist?"

She clenched her fists, fury churning in her chest.

"You deceived me, demon," she hissed, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. "You were supposed to take my soul, not… this."

Mydeimos chuckled and stepped forward. His presence was oppressive, making her heart pound.

"Are you truly so naive, warrior? You knew what you were getting into when you made a deal with me, knowing my nature. I take what I deem necessary, not what mortals offer me. And you…" he stopped right in front of her, leaning so close that their faces were dangerously near, "turned out to be far more valuable than just a soul."

She wanted to recoil, but something held her in place. Pride? Or perhaps fear?

"I don't need your gifts," she spat out. "I won't serve you."

Mydeimos burst into laughter. His laughter rolled across this cursed world like thunder.

"That's why you are so valuable," his voice softened, becoming almost mesmerizing. "You don't fear me. You don't fear death. You fought not for glory, not for power. You protected those you held dear. You were ready to give your life, but fate decreed otherwise. Now you belong to me. And I will make you stronger than anyone before."

She gritted her teeth, realizing that objections were useless. This demon was more powerful than anything she knew. But her will was not broken.

"I will never be your puppet," she hissed.

Mydeimos sighed, but there was no disappointment in his eyes—only cold satisfaction.

"You don't understand yet. Let me show you your future."

In an instant, the world before her eyes flashed with blinding visions. She saw herself—but not as she was before. Her blade pierced enemies with an ease she couldn't have imagined. Her body moved faster than the wind, stronger than steel. Armies fell before her, unable to withstand her might. She was not just a warrior—she was a storm, striking without hesitation.

But with strength came something else. Monstrosity. The gazes of people, filled with terror. Their whispers behind her back. They no longer saw a human in her—only a weapon, an instrument of destruction. She herself felt something inside her dying with every blow, with every battle.

She froze, her breath catching.

"No…" she whispered. "This isn't me."

Mydeimos tilted his head, watching her reaction. He knew she would resist. And yet…

"You are mistaken," his voice grew colder. "This is your true essence. Without limits. Without fear. Without pity. You are a weapon of war. And I will give you that power, whether you want it or not."

Before she could object, his hand touched her chest, right over her heart. The world exploded into darkness. A wave of power surged through her body, flaring in her veins, burning her from the inside. She screamed, feeling her blood boil, her bones breaking, transforming into something new. Her eyes widened, and in that moment, she understood—there was no turning back.

She became his part. Became his weapon. Became what she feared most.

A monster.

[guzhufuren]

New uncensored chinese period BL The Mountains and Rivers Are Forever Silent (山河永寂)

The drama is based on the novel of the same name by Yihanhe (一寒呵)

Won't be broadcast in mainland China, will air through an international platform.

Filming start: beginning of January 2025 Filming period: 20 days Casting call: December 13, 2024

Summary: Thousands of years ago, the mountains and rivers were destroyed and wars started raging everywhere. Sixth prince Xiao Yunze had no hope of ascending the throne to the Southern Kingdom. By chance, he saves Zhao Ziang, who was trying to assasinate the prince. As they get to know each other, gradually feelings beyond mundane develop between them and they fall in love. As the political situation in the Southern Kingdom changes, Zhao Ziang kills the prince to protect Xiao Yunze and let Xiao Yunze succeed to the throne. The death of the prince causes a rift between the two, and Zhao Ziang resolutely leaves and embarks on the journey again. Several years later, Zhao Ziang becomes the emperor of the Northern Kingdom. With his efforts, the Northern Kingdom is about to unify the Central Plains. But when Zhao Ziang faces the last obstacle - king of the South and his ex lover Xiao Yunze, whom he had missed for many years, he doesn't know what to do. Will love win or power win?

Character profiles:

Xiao Yunze Male, visual age around 20 years old. He is slender, loves playing chess, calligraphy and painting, and is elegant in every move. The sixth prince of the Southern Kingdom, with a refined and timeless temperament. He is intelligent and sensitive, talented, and has expanded his music and poetry. He has a gentle personality but is not weak. He has a keen insight into people's hearts, but is willing to stay out of the game and abandon the desire to fight for power. He advocates elegance, likes to live in seclusion in the mountains, and is tired of the whirlpool of power, but he always has a deep attachment to family affection, especially to his brother, the prince, Xiao Yunqian, with complex feelings, respect but also alienation. In the chaotic situation, he became a calm and deep character with his gentle but firm character.

Zhao Ziang (Xiao Yunze's cp) Male, visual age is around 25 years old. A hero in the north, with a tall figure, a resolute face, firm eyebrows, a violent temper, and both wisdom and martial arts. He is resolute and resolute, and is aggressive and enterprising. He is calm and resolute, has extraordinary strategic vision and execution, and is a hero in troubled times. He is informal, but respects the strong and the wise, and always pursues his ambitions. Although he is in the midst of power and killing, he is also sincere and righteous, and has a heart for his country. But when facing Xiao Yunze, he is always indecisive.

Xiao Yunqian (Xiao Yunze's elder brother) Male, visual age around 25 years old. The prince who shines in the court is determined to gain supreme power. He can sacrifice all emotions in pursuit of power, but finally loses in emotions. He has a strong desire for power and has shown extraordinary political wisdom and strategy since childhood. He has a cold temperament and is deeply scheming. Although he looks calm and restrained, he is actually full of ambition. He is not obsessed with sensual pleasures, but pursues power itself with a cold and resolute will, instead of sympathizing with the common people. In the process of pursuing power, he regards all obstacles as stepping stones. He has a complicated relationship with his brother Xiao Yunze. They grew up together when they were young and had the warmth of brotherly love, but they became increasingly alienated in the power struggle. Xiao Yunqian is very oppressive in his dealings with others. He is a strong man who integrates coldness, decisiveness and ambition. In his world, family affection and feelings often give way to power. He is a typical hero in troubled times.

Guo Zheng (Xiao Yunqian's personal bodyguard) Male, 20 years old. The prince's personal bodyguard, who has practiced martial arts for many years and is very capable. The prince's personal bodyguard, who is naturally fond of martial arts, is rough but delicate. Many years ago, he fell in love with Yin Shan at first sight. Although he had no interest in poetry and books, he was subtly exposed to the elegant world because of Yin Shan. Guo Zheng admired Yin Shan's talent and gentle temperament. Although he was not good at speaking, he protected him silently with practical actions. He hides a tenderness under his strong appearance, burying his loyalty and admiration deep in his heart. He is a contradictory combination of cold and hot in troubled times.

Yin Shan (Xiao Yunze's childhood sweetheart) Male, 20 years old. A scholar who has loved poetry, calligraphy and painting since childhood. The son of a civil official in the court, he met Xiao Yunze since childhood because of their similar interests and they have a deep friendship. Yin Shan is well-read in poetry and books, and has outstanding talents. He especially loves the love stories described in books, and is full of idealistic pursuit and loyalty to love. He has a gentle personality like jade, but he has a rare firmness and perseverance, and always accompanies Xiao Yunze. Yin Shan advocates elegance and has no intention of fighting in the world. He only wants to use his talents and sincerity to protect the deep friendship and unknown emotions. He is a touch of peace in the troubled times.

Zhao Jifu (Zhao Ziang's younger brother) Male, 18 years old. Grew up in a temple. Compared with his brother Zhao Ziang, who is heroic and valiant, Zhao Jifu embodies more calmness and strategic precision. He can even be said to be a two-faced person. He is humble and gentle on the surface, and is good at hiding his true intentions. But in fact, he is a scheming man and a master in the political arena. He has shown extraordinary adaptability in complex situations, and is good at making secret plans. He is an important force in promoting the family's hegemony. His temperament is restrained but his edge is hidden, showing a kind of hidden strong style. He is a wise man and counselor who cannot be ignored in troubled times.

Han Zaizhou (Teacher of Xiao Yunqian) Male, 60 years old. An important official in the court, he has a high wisdom in politics and worldly affairs. The core of the prince party, the veteran of two dynasties of the Southern Kingdom, calm and composed, and has a thorough understanding of power and politics. The previous emperor of the Southern Kingdom is old, and Han Zaizhou has to start planning for the next generation of the Southern Kingdom. Faced with prince Xiao Yunqian who has lost control in pursuit of power, Han Zaizhou has to persuade Xiao Yunze to participate in the fight for the throne in order to stabilize the court, because he feels affection for the younger generation of princes.

*text from the informational brochure was converted with image to text online programs, translated through google translator and edited by me with some help of online dictionaries. i do not speak chinese, so there are most certainly mistakes in the text. purpose of this translation is to give you the general idea

[universe-on-her-shoulders]

Hi!!! You're back with prompts, nice! Can you please write something with Rogue?

Rogue isn't entirely sure where this dimension is. He'd tried to work it out when he'd first arrived; he'd sat and stared at the stars in a bid to triangulate his position in the universe, before realising that these weren't stars or planets or asteroid belts that he knew, and that he was under a different sky entirely to the one he'd left behind; the one he'd flown through and lived under for his whole life.

The planet itself isn't awful; it's hot during the day and cold at night, with everything red-hued and covered in a thin layer of fine dust that he'd long since given up on attempting to remove from his body. It's now engrained in his fingernails, the whorls of his ears, his hair, giving him a slightly strange burnt orange hue that startles him when he catches his reflection in the sparkling streams that bisect the plains and rocky terrains.

The Chuldur have long since disappeared over the horizon; banding together and forming their own encampment before heading off in search of the local life forms. He's not entirely sure they made it; he's met the planet's tall, scaled indigenous beings, and they make no mention of the aliens. He trades with them, communicates with them, learns how to survive from them, and in exchange they treat him as a sort of pet or mascot, a fascination, something curious and intriguing, like an exhibit in a museum or a zoo. Still, they seem genuinely fond of him, and he's grateful for that, even if he lies awake at night and wonders how he can leave this place and return to his own universe.

He thinks of the Doctor when he imagines this; thinks of him so often that he can no longer put a quantifiable estimate on how frequently. Sometimes there might be whole hours in which he doesn't hold him in the forefront of his mind, followed by more hours of guilt for the perceived transgression of forgetting. Sometimes, in contrast, he spends days dwelling on the mysterious stranger he'd risked his life for; sometimes, he wonders if it was worth it, and feels guilty for even considering the notion. He thinks about their inevitable reunion, for it will come, he knows; he thinks about the life they might lead, running around the universe together.

It keeps him going; it burns in him, a fervent wish, a hope, a dream.

[suiana]

when are we getting yan french fry pt2 :3

never

(yan! french fry chef x gn! reader) (slight nsfw)

"w-wait don't take off your pants-!"

"but you said.... you wanted to see how i make the special sauce-"

"NOT IN PUBLIC!"

you groan awkwardly, running a hand through your hair as the french fry chef hums idly to himself. he pulls up his pants, staring at you with oddly uncomfortable eyes as he does so.

you can't help but look away, discomforted by his hard gaze. yet, by some unknown force, you are forced to look at him once more, the pin drop silence creeping up your spine.

"he's creepy..."

you think to yourself as you continue to stare at the french fry chef who makes the most delicious fries that you've eaten in your entire life.

"is he even human?"

you continue to silently ponder to yourself. yes... why haven't you realized it? his weird aura, wide eyes that look...fake, tall and lanky body that's just too unreal...

wait, maybe his cum isn't the cum you're thinking about? maybe it's some alien, otherworldly substance that shares the same name as human semen?!

you gulp lightly, mustering the courage to break the awkward silence as the french fry chef continues to stare at you with that plain face of his, no expression whatsoever.

"hey, chef. where do you get your cum from?"

"from... here..."

he mumbles sluggishly, pulling his pants down onec more. you sweat in anticipation, expecting to see some otherworldly body part, only to be filled with regret when his lower body is fully human.

"special ingredient is... from here"

ah.

so he's just a really tall human, huh?

...

so you've been eating his sperm for three weeks now.

...

damn.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Actually I had an idea. If another alien got the Omnitrix, what use would a human be to them. I eventually came to "humans are kinda throughout the galaxy so they can be used as an overall hidden in plain sight"/ kinda deal but then I realized.

Humans are the best at sarcasm.

But seriously humans are kinda the best at layering words and meaning so yeah if diplomacy, debate, or deception is needed I'd actually accept someone transforming into a human to do that.

Tbh my thing with Humans is their like. Stubbornness and determination vibe with anything and anything.

Like like like

This low-key goes into the 'Humans as Space Orcs' genre of posts. But it's.

A Human finds an inhospitable environment? Time to make tools to survive anyway! Protective clothing, vehicles to ease transportation, etc.

Oh you have a warrior race that's very 'stab first, ask questions never'? Have you considered the Power of Friendship?

Wild beast that will rip you to shreds? Sounds like a good doggo to me!

What's that? Our 'G force training machine'? What are you- oh! You mean the roller coaster! That's not a training machine! That's a fun ride! Yeah we made those because it's fun! Kids go on them! Once they're tall enough ofc we care about safety! Anyway we'd love to put more Gs on this bad boy!

[apoemaday]

The Mothering Blackness

by Maya Angelou

She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of her face She came home running

She came down creeping here to the black arms waiting now to the warm heart waiting rime of alien dreams befrosts her rich brown face She came down creeping

She came home blameless black yet as Hagar’s daughter tall as was Sheba’s daughter threats of northern winds die on the desert’s face She came home blameless

[bigmusclenm]

Daily Dose of Magic - Prologue

[Story Collection] | [●] [Part 1]

Blaine’s home was quiet the night before he had to leave for college. His mom had gone to bed earlier, leaving him alone with his thoughts in his room. Boxes and bags surrounded him, everything properly packed to start this new journey. He was 19 years old; he felt ready to start college, but he couldn’t help but sigh as nostalgia washed over him, thinking about his home, childhood memories, his mom, and his late dad.

He had always been close to his mother, especially because his father passed away before he was even a year old. The man had been a mystery for Blaine, a figure of stories and photographs his mom had shared through the years. But he had always been curious about his father’s background. Now that Blaine was ready to step into another level in life, curiosity over his father’s story flooded his mind.

He sat on his bed and looked around, realizing that among the boxes and bags, he didn’t have anything that could remind him of his dad while he was away. Blaine slowly stood up as a thought occurred to him: he had to take something of his dad’s with him to college, something that would make him feel connected to the man he never had the chance to know. This idea led him to the attic, where he knew his mom had saved most of his dad’s stuff.

The wooden stairs cracked under Blaine’s weight as he ascended into the attic. He pushed open the old wooden door, which let out a low groan, revealing a space filled with dust, cobwebs, and boxes that hadn’t been touched in years. Blaine immediately smelled the scent of aged wood and musty cardboard; a faint beam of moonlight streamed through a small, round window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

Blaine stood at the door for a while, adjusting to the low light as a dim bulb swung from the ceiling, casting long shadows on the wall and illuminating his body. He was tall and lean, standing at 6’1” and weighing around 165 pounds, with a build that was more wiry than muscular. His light blonde hair, perpetually messy, fell into his bright blue eyes, giving him an almost boyish look. He wore a loose t-shirt that hung off his lean frame and a pair of faded jeans. He looked every bit like a college-bound student, nervous about the future.

He stepped into the attic, the floorboards groaning under his weight, and began sifting through the boxes, each labeled with a scribbled word or two, though the ink had faded with time. One box, in particular, caught his attention. It was a plain, unmarked box shoved into the corner of the attic. It looked older than the rest, so Blaine carefully pulled it out, setting it on the floor in the middle of the room.

His fingers slightly trembled as he opened it, half-expecting to find nothing of interest. Inside it, Blaine found old documents, faded with age, many of which seemed to belong to his father, but nothing felt personal. He shuffled through the papers, somewhat disappointed, hoping to find a photograph, a note, anything that could connect him to his father. He was about to give up, but at the bottom of the box, something unusual caught his eye—a book. The cover, made of thick, weathered leather, had strange symbols and letters Blaine couldn’t recognize. The symbols were unfamiliar, almost alien. The letters were written in an ancient script as if the book had existed for centuries.

Blaine’s fingers traced the cover, feeling the worn leather beneath his fingertips. A shiver ran down his spine as he carefully lifted the book out of the box, feeling its weight in his hands. Blaine opened it, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw a neat, flowing handwritten name in faded ink at the top of the first page: “Blaine Morain.” His father’s name. His name.

This book was the connection he had been looking for. He felt it. Without thinking, Blaine read the name, his voice barely a whisper. “Blaine Morain,” he said, and as the last syllable left his lips, a strange sensation washed over him, and another shiver ran down his spine. A sudden jolt of mild electricity coursed through his hands and arms, making him gasp. The book slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud as Blaine stared at his hands in shock. His fingertips were glowing red, the light pulsing softly as if in rhythm with his heartbeat.

Blaine stood there, frozen, his eyes moving from his hands to the book lying on the floor, the pages faintly illuminated by the red glow from his fingertips. The bright hue gradually faded, his mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. He contemplated leaving the book there, pretending this had never happened. But something inside him urged him to pick it up. Blaine leaned down, his hands trembling as he retrieved the book, clutching it to his chest as he hurried out of the attic.

Once safely back in his room, Blaine shut the door behind him and sat on his bed, the book resting on his lap. He carefully opened the book again to inspect its contents. Strange symbols filled the pages, but as Blaine stared at them, they began to make sense. The language was old, but Blaine realized now he could understand it.

Blaine turned to the second page and found a family tree intricately drawn with elegant lines and flowing branches. His eyes scanned the names. His father’s name was there, and to Blaine’s astonishment, so was his own. The family tree extended back generations, all the way to the medieval era, each name accompanied by a title: Wizard. Blaine felt a shiver run down his spine as the realization dawned on him—he came from a line of wizards.

Turning the pages, he found what seemed to be spells, each accompanied by a detailed description. His hands trembled as he flipped through the pages. The more he read, the more he realized that the book was a manual, a guide to the magical abilities that had passed down through his family. There were spells for protection, spells for healing, and spells to manipulate elements, but what caught his attention was a whole section for spells specifically designed to make body parts grow.

One particular spell caught his eye from this section. His lips curled into a chuckle as he read a handwritten note from his dad in the margin: “Bigger balls, not a good idea.” Blaine couldn’t help but laugh, imagining his dad experimenting with this spell in his younger years. He grinned, the note feeling more like an invitation than a warning.

“Cnámh Rogha Mór,” Blaine read aloud from the book, immediately feeling a tingling sensation course through his body. His fingertips glowed red once more as he glanced down at his lap to see his bulge slowly inflating. The sensation was strange, almost pleasurable, and he couldn’t help but watch in awe as his jeans grew tighter, the fabric straining to accommodate the growing mass. His mouth was open in disbelief as the tightness grew more intense, his balls quickly reaching baseball-sized proportions.

He marveled as his balls grew, but after a few seconds, the reality of what he was doing hit him, and panic surged through him as he groaned in discomfort. With a sharp intake of breath, he slammed the book shut, the glowing in his finger ceasing immediately. He looked down at his ready-to-burst bulge, and, to his relief, the growth stopped, and his balls shrank back to their average size. He sat on the edge of his bed, his heart pounding and his breathing short. The sensation of his balls growing so fast had been fantastic, so he couldn’t help but smile, thinking about the possibilities.

****

Blaine arrived at college the following day, the spellbook safely tucked away in his backpack. He had spent most of the journey reading through its pages, memorizing several spells. Now, he wandered through the bustling yard of the prestigious institution he had worked so hard to get into. The campus was alive with activity—students moving in, greeting old friends, or meeting new ones. His blue eyes darted around, taking it all in. Blaine couldn’t believe he was here, about to start a new chapter.

Blaine was lost in his thoughts as he walked toward the dormitory, his mind replaying the previous night’s events. But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he collided with something—or someone—solid and unyielding. The impact sent Blaine sprawling to the ground, his backpack flying off his shoulder and the box in his hand landing beside him on the grass.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you coming!” A deep, concerned voice exclaimed.

Blaine looked up, his vision slightly blurred from the fall, to see a hand extended toward him, attached to a thick, muscular arm. His eyes followed the arm up to a broad chest covered in a tight-fitting red T-shirt that did little to hide the impressive musculature beneath. The guy was big, with a physique that would make any athlete jealous. Blaine marveled at the sight, his eyes traveling to meet the stranger’s face.

The owner of the voice crouched down, offering a hand to help him up. Blaine took the offered hand, allowing the stranger to help him to his feet. As he stood up, their eyes met, and Blaine gasped at the most handsome face he had seen. The guy had dark, curly hair, neatly trimmed on the sides and left longer on top. His olive-green eyes were warm and expressive, and his smile was nothing short of breathtaking.

Blaine took a deep breath as he took in the stranger’s appearance. The guy was an inch shorter than Blaine but far broader, probably weighing around 220 pounds of pure muscle. His T-shirt and jeans strained against his impressive physique. And as the big guy leaned to the side to pick Blaine’s backpack up, Blaine couldn’t help but gasp at the sight of the thickest, roundest, and most perfect butt he had ever seen, accentuated by the tight denim he wore.

“So, are you okay?” the stranger asked again while Blaine was too stunned to speak. “I’m so sorry for knocking you over. Sometimes it’s hard to control all of this,” the big guy added, gesturing to his muscular body, making Blaine gasp.

“It’s-it’s okay. I should’ve been watching where I was going,” Blaine finally said, his voice softer than intended.

The guy’s smile widened, a dimple appearing on his left cheek—another touch that made Blaine gasp. “Still, I should’ve been more careful. It’s totally my fault. First-day fitters, I guess. I’m Bryon Callahan. Freshman,” Bryon said, extending his hand to greet Blaine.

“Blaine, Blaine Morain. Freshman,” he replied, still somewhat dazed by Bryon’s presence as they shook hands.

“Nice to meet you, Blaine,” Bryon said, his smile weakening Blaine’s knees. “I’m still trying to figure out where everything is.”

“Same here,” Blaine admitted with a small laugh, trying to ease the nervousness he felt bubbling up inside him. “I’m trying to find the dorms.”

“Yeah. This place is huge, so we better continue,” Bryon said, handing Blaine’s backpack to him and lifting the box off the ground. “But maybe we can hang out later once we’ve settled in.”

Blaine’s expression changed, unable to hide his excitement. “Sure! I’d love that. It’s good to meet a new friend on the first day here,” he replied, smiling at Bryon.

With a final smile and a quick goodbye, they parted ways. But Blaine couldn’t resist turning around to catch one last glimpse of Bryon as they walked in opposite directions. To his surprise, Bryon had done the same, their eyes meeting across the yard, making them both blush. They quickly looked away as they continued walking to their dorms, but Blaine couldn’t help but sigh in awe. Bryon’s body and charming manners stuck in his head.

Lost in his thoughts, Blaine got lost and spent a few minutes trying to get on the right path again. When he finally found his dorm room a few minutes later, he noticed the door was already open. He stepped inside, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw Bryon standing there, unpacking his things.

“Hello?” Blaine said, blinking repeatedly to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Oh, hey. Room 304?” Bryon asked with a grin, and Blaine nodded. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other then.”

Blaine grinned broadly. “Seems like it. I guess we’ll be able to hang out very often.”

Blaine approached the unoccupied bed by the window while Bryon unpacked his stuff. The room was simple, but Bryon had already covered his side with posters of muscular football players and bodybuilders. Blaine observed the posters and grinned as he realized that Bryon had a thing for big muscles, having built his own body to look like the men on the posters.

“So, what’s your schedule like this semester?” Bryon asked, taking Blaine out of his trance.

“Oh, let me check,” Blaine said, looking into his backpack to pull out the schedule. He unfolded the paper and read through the list of classes. “That’s it. Sounds heavy, but I still have lots of free time.”

Bryon approached his schedule in hand to compare it with Blaine’s. “No way! Those are my classes, too! I’m taking all of those!”

Blaine looked at the schedules, smiling. “Really? All of them?”

Bryon nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, your schedule is like a copy of mine. So, we’ll spend lots of time together for the next few months.”

Blaine grinned. The coincidence—or was it fate?—of having the exact same schedule as his new roommate only made him feel more connected to Bryon. “Yeah! Looks like we’re going to see a lot of each other,” Blaine said, his tone playful.

“Yeah, I hope you won’t get sick of me,” Bryon replied, and both laughed.

Blaine found himself feeling more comfortable around Bryon as they continued unpacking, so he couldn’t help but occasionally glance over at the big guy. He couldn’t help but admire his roommate’s muscles rippling as he lifted his bags or boxes onto the bed or how his strong hands carefully arranged his stuff. He could barely continue his own work while he admired Bryon’s graceful movements on his side of the room.

Then, Blaine’s eyes widened when Bryon bent down to pick up a dropped item, showcasing the impressive size of his butt. The snug jeans Bryon wore accentuated the rounded curves of his ass, and Blaine’s mind wandered back to the spellbook now tucked in his bag. The spells he had read through earlier flashed through his mind, one, in particular, standing out: a spell designed to grow the ass.

A smile tugged at the corners of Blaine’s lips as he thought about using the spell on Bryon. He was itching to test his magic and the spells in the book, and Bryon seemed like the perfect, unsuspecting candidate. Blaine quietly sat on his bed as Bryon continued unpacking. He glanced over to make sure Bryon was distracted, then softly whispered, “Fás Tóna.”

Blaine’s fingertips glowed red, just like they had in the attic. His heart started beating faster as he watched Bryon’s ass begin to swell, the fabric of his jeans stretching to accommodate the new mass. Bryon didn’t notice at first and continued unpacking, talking about his high school football days, his focus still on the task at hand. But as the seconds passed, the tightness in his jeans became impossible to ignore. Bryon shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust his pants, but the more he fidgeted, the tighter they became.

Blaine’s eyes widened with excitement and certain disbelief as Bryon’s ass continued to inflate. The round globes of flesh gained more mass, pressing against the denim, now stretched to its limits. Then, Bryon finally stopped what he was doing, a confused expression crossing his face. He tugged at the waistband, trying to make more space for his ass, but the expansion didn’t stop as Blaine’s fingers still glowed.

“Man, what the—?” Bryon said, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to find relief from the tightness. He reached back, his hand brushing over his now nearly volleyball-sized ass cheeks, his expression turning from confusion to alarm as his pants were barely holding on.

Blaine could hardly breathe in shock and excitement, his dick stirring in his pants as his face stayed as neutral as possible. The sight of Bryon’s ass was absurd but so fascinating, and Blaine could barely process the implications. His magic was causing the growth. He could alter others’ bodies. He didn’t even blink as the realization sunk in, and Bryon’s once comfortable jeans were now painfully tight on him.

Then, a loud rip echoed through the room. Bryon froze, eyes wide open, as he realized what had happened. He twisted around, trying to look at the back of his jeans, where a long tear had appeared at the seam in the middle of his backside, the fabric unable to handle the size of his massive ass and exposing his bare butt since he was wearing a jockstrap. Bryon’s hand moved to his rounded butt, his hands shaking in disbelief at how much it had grown.

Blaine grinned, looking away as his fingers stopped glowing, quickly ending the spell. Bryon’s ass began to shrink to its original size before his shocked eyes. The tension in the fabric lessened, and Bryon let out a relieved sigh, though he still looked stunned.

“Did you see that?” Bryon asked as he turned to Blaine, who pretended to be busy with his own unpacking.

“What?” Blaine said, turning to face Bryon again and pretending to be surprised when he saw the tear in the big guy’s pants. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, but...”

“No, no, no. My ass grew. It was inflating or something. I felt like my pants would burst and...” Bryon said, still trying to figure out what had just happened. He ran a hand over his backside, feeling the tear in his jeans with a perplexed frown.

“Well, they did. Maybe they shrunk in the wash?” Blaine suggested, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Or maybe it’s time to upgrade pant size?” he added, innocently shrugging his shoulders.

“Hmm… Maybe,” Bryon replied, though he didn’t sound convinced. He glanced down at his jeans again, still puzzled, but eventually, he shook his head and decided to let it go. “I guess I’ll go easy on squats from now on,” he added, pulling one of his bags up to look for another pair of pants to replace the ruined ones.

As Bryon turned back to finish unpacking, Blaine silently celebrated his successful spell, the thrill of what he had just done making his chest inflate with pride. He could hardly wait to see what other things he could do with Bryon during the semester. The possibilities were endless, and this was only the beginning.

...

[yaut-jaknowit]

False Freedom

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3659

Summary: You're let to roam around the ship at your free will. Not like you could escape easily. Only to run into trouble.

Author Note: Any errors, let me know!

P.S. Happy Thanksgiving! As a gift to you guys, I'm gonna post two things today. Stay tuned!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

The plain metal door slid behind you and clicked with a lock. Most of the tightness in your chest that made it hard to breath washed away. It freed you to relax and slump against the forementioned door. You still couldn’t believe that We’ar-ow had allowed you to leave her quarters… by yourself. She had said it would be good for you or something like that. Go explore, be curious.

Yeah, you’ll surely be curious as you map out an escape route from her room and towards the ships. That was your plan A for escape. It might take time to figure out how to operate one of them. Thankfully, the tablet should help you that. Give you the basics on learning on how to fly an alien spaceship. You sighed heavily through your nose and pushed off of the door.

Without We’ar-ow marching in front of you, leading you to wherever she wanted, this new found freedom was nice. The unfortunate new mark carved into the top of your back would further ensure a single Yautja wouldn’t dare hurt you. Nervously, you glanced down at the tablet and silently reminded yourself. If trouble was to rise, We’ar-ow could be called with a single button. Nothing bad should happen though… right?

You rapidly shook your held before standing tall, shoulder squared and chin level. Who cares? If you didn’t start now, you’ll be stuck here for longer. An extra day, an extra hour, minute, it did not matter. Extra time you didn’t want to be for. Then, you finally started a path towards the elevator door.

One of the things We’ar-ow has given you is a code. A code to enter most places on the ship. Most, but not all. You hadn’t encouraged yourself to ask if that meant the bay for the ships.

In all honesty, We’ar-ow expects you to try and escape, as close to impossible that is. Nothing is impossible though. Aliens were thought to not exist at all but look where you were currently, in space, so far from home, from earth.

The number pad clicked at every touch before chiming a high-pitch beep. The elevator doors finally opened at your command. You entered it swiftly and pressed the needed button to go the floor destined. Afterwards, you mess about on the table to pull up the map system that showed the entire layout of the ship.

Once it came to stop and opened to reveal a mostly empty hall, you stepped out and gaze both ways. Only a few bodies filled the area, none that paid attention to you. Thankfully. From there you used the map to start an unsteady path to your right.

The mothership was exactly the same on either side. What differentiated between them was the placements of the sparring rooms and the cafeterias by the looks of it. There were probably smaller, less noticeable changes that didn’t matter. You did your best to remember where the emergency escape pods were for one of the halls that connected with this one. The pods were on the outer edge of the ship.

As for one of the hangars, those were closer to the belly of the ship. There seemed to be a huge cargo bay down there as well for supplies and whatnot. Just the extra stuff needed to survive in case of an emergency or such. These aliens surely know what they’re doing when it comes to this kind of thing. Space, beautiful but extremely dangerous.

Through the lowly trickle of people, you stayed off to the side, out of their way, and head bowed to follow the map. Thankfully, no one gave you trouble, either warded off by We’ar-ow’s scent on you or the sight at of her mark scaring your skin. Whatever it was, worked. They stayed away as you went on your marry way down this hall and onto the next.

The hairs at the base of your neck rose sharply. Every instinct that controlled your body reverted to a prey mindset as you paused mid-step. Only a few feet into this new hallway. The sounds of your heartbeat thundered in your ears as the only thing you could do was freeze. Freeze like a deer in headlights, watching their doom approach them.

Unlike that, you didn’t know what was following you. Who or what was watching you so closely, so deadly. It caused your skin to crawl and prickle.

Every instinct screamed at you to move or even press the button. To know that there was hope that someone on this alien ship was willing to protect you. Even if it was someone you would happily slash her throat and promptly run for your life.

Your bottom lip found its way to be worried on between dull teeth. Then, your hovering foot came down to complete a hesitant step. Despite your ancient instincts trying to drive you away from this place, you ignored it and kept going. If you turned tail to run away from whoever this was, you could only be seen more of the coward the Yautjas saw your kind as. You pushed through and continued this pathing down the infinite hallway.

All you wanted to do was map out the area for an escape.

From the weight of the unknown stare, you knew it wasn’t We’ar-ow. There couldn’t be a possible way for her to reach this level moments after you and get to that hall before you. Plus, that heat… Your skin crawled, knowing whoever it was wanted you dead.

Dwainet came to mind but it’s not only him that felt threatened by your presence. Other Yautjas have shown and expressed their dislike for you since you’ve arrived so long ago. You don’t think Dwainet would show himself near you after the beat down with We’ar-ow either. Not when she played with him like a skilled warrior and a child sparring. It was all a game to her.

.

Off to the side, you stopped to study the map a little more closely. A few shoot offs of other halls connected to this main hallway. A few shops lined this side, vendors selling various things from weapons to jewelry of sorts.

As the human you were, curiosity gripped your heart and tugged on it. Timidly in the near empty hall, you approached the lonely vendor that had a few weapons and armor in his section. Despite wishing he wouldn’t take notice of your form, his eyes darted as you grew closer. You cursed mentally and turned to leave. Death wasn’t on your list of plans today.

The male Yautja chirped, the translator staying silent behind your ear. With his head, he motioned for you to come back towards him. Instead, you stayed put, unsure if fleeing was an option, if he would give chase to hunt you down.

“Come hereth. I see the interest in your alien eyes, ooman,” he commanded, voice high, airy. Well shit. You held the tablet to your chest while your eyes scanned the objects set up on the tables. “You’re the Monarch’s pet, aren’t you?” Your knuckles turned a shade of white but you nodded.

This new Yautja placed a hand on the table and leaned over the weapons. The inside of your cheek started to bleed from how hard you were biting it to distract yourself, some. His warm breath fanned over your face, spilt tongue darting out to taste the air. “Pick something,” he stated and stood straight once more.

It took some willpower not to let shock morph over your features. Was this a trick of sorts to lie and say you stole something? No one would believe you, a pet, would have currency to buy things. You turned your head to look at him from the corner of your eye with suspicion.

He chuckled and put his hands on his hips, thumbs slipping into the waistband of his pants. “Ah, you are smarter than the average ooman. I give credit where it is due.” His alien smirk fell though as he peered straight at you. “Seriously though, pick something. Anything of the sort.”

His words are what caught your attention and the way he spoke carefully. This Yautja was offering for you to pick something but hadn’t said you could have it. Play this smart, don’t cause trouble.

On the table between the two of you, your eyes swiftly darted from item to item before landing on a small dagger. The smallest of them all and closest to fit more comfortably in your own hand.

Carefully, you pointed out the dagger. “That one.” You didn’t touch it or anything on the table, not playing into his hands. You hoped.

A grin spread across his face, upper mandibles both flaring. An action you could almost was a challenge or threat of sorts. Yet, you stayed where you stood without moving, a white-knuckle grip still held onto the tablet in your hands.

He once more rested a palm against the table and leaned in closer then before. “Ahhh, you are harder to trick than the average ooman. Glad to see it.” Then, strangely enough, he held out his hand towards you, a human gesture. “I am called Wourk. You may take the weapon as a prize. I give you the blade, free of charge.”

Once more, you looked at the newly named Wourk closely. His hand still hovered in the air, you decided to play it safe and not take it. “Why?” you questioned in all honesty. It would a loss to him. Why give up product for nothing in return? You did not trust this Yautja, not one bit.

Wourk snorted and leaned away from you. “Some secrets are meant to stay hidden. Take the blade. It is yours to weld,” he answered. You narrowed your eyes on him once more before finally forcefully uncurling one of your hands. Your knuckles painfully ached at how hard you had been squeezing the tablet, creaking from the movement.

Your eyes darted between your limb and himself, to ensure he wasn’t going to double cross you. The lukewarm metal touched against your fingertips. Wourk hadn’t moved and just watched with amusement.

Swiftly, you snatched back your hand with the dagger. Now further from him, you respectfully bowed your head. “Thank you,” you said politely before inspecting the craftmanship of it. With the limited knowledge, the metal reflected light off of it. “It’s beautiful.” The Yautja hummed, an upper mandible jerking upwards.

This entire time, he was just entertaining himself during the slow periods. You gazed back up at him with just a hint of a smile. Oh, you poor ooman.

“Run along, ooman.” Wourk leaned back on another tablet behind him and used a hand in a shooing motion. Your face turned sour but you did stalk away without giving him another word. Despite rarely being around other Yautjas besides Dwainet and now We’ar-ow, there was no kindness in their biology. Just straight to the point.

When you reentered the barely filled hallway, a shiver ran its course through your body. Goosebumps raised the hairs along your arms. Watchful, observant eyes pinned you down where you stood. You did your best to shake it off and slip the blade into your pocket, hoping it wouldn’t cut the fabric or yourself somehow.

With the tablet once more leading you through the halls, you meander your way. Just a helpless ooman, figuring their way on a ship alien to you.

A ooman that’s so weak, pathetic, just one flex of his muscles could snap their fragile neck. A ooman he stalked, watched, carefully in the halls of the mothership. The ooman could not sense him in any way, that he knew of. He was safe, using his cloak to keep from their sight. One day, he’ll extinguish the damned creature’s heart. Like the way it deserved to be as the weak link.

His prowess aided him as he stalked after it. Every step calculated to ensure there wasn’t a chance he could be seen. He watched as a vendor gave you a small, useless blade and sent you on your way. If he were to attack, like that could do anything damaging to him. No, he’ll have your head pulled from your body before the thought to use it could cross your mind.

There was nothing and no one that could stop him. A Yautja on the hunt with his prey before him… only he had to play this smart. He couldn’t have the murder coming back to him. The Monarch would deprive him of life he guessed from the way she defended it. A game this Yautja was willing to play. The hunt, always, always fun.

Taking turns to more populated areas of the ship, you fast-walked without drawing attention to yourself away from here. Anywhere safer than those eyes. The eyes that had yet to leave no matter what you did. No matter what turn, where you headed, they stalked your every move.

In all honestly, you had hit every section on this level just to escape. But it followed. Your heart pounded violently in your ears at each twist and turn. Without realizing it, you had begun running and now heading towards the elevator. The area wasn’t heavily populated, probably desolate at this point but you needed to get to the safety of We’ar-ow’s room. At least, hopefully, no one could reach you there. That you knew off, possibly.

Your hand slammed against the number pad to open the door in frantic feeling. Whatever was chasing kept pace, easily and calmly. The device screeched at the incorrect code, snapping you for a moment out of your thoughts. The code was shakily inputted. After the three time, it finally took it and opened up.

All it took was three seconds to react, get in, and smash a fist against the button to close. Your back was to the furthest wall as you waited for the doors to seal shut. The only thing you could do was watch and pray it doesn’t get in here before they shut.

Either it was toying with you or wasn’t as quick as you believed it to be, the doors were able to close fully. The tightness in your chest fell away as you  took a shaky step forward and pressed the needed button to We’ar-ow’s room.

With the eyes off of you, relief briefly flooded your system and allowed a moment to think and truly breathe. Air filled your lung completely for the first time within the hour. You settled against the wall next to the buttons for a moment. Long enough for the elevator to stop on the desired floor and open up to reveal the short, blank walkway to her door.

Hesitancy kept you stuck in the elevator as you just stared at the door. From one monster to another…

Something small, minute, in the belly of your stomach didn’t sit well with that thought. We’ar-ow hasn’t been outright cruel or abusive… besides the branding marring your skin. Everything else, it was all gifts or kind gestures. The tablet, the cushion, the clothing. Yeah, everything someone would do for their pet, but she hasn’t been cruel to you.

The doors in front of you started to close. In a panic, you rushed forward and slipped through before they shut. So close to the entrance of the lion’s den. You swallowed thickly, unsure how much more stress in one day you could handle.

Behind you, the elevator made a thud noise, terrifying you out of your mind. In an instant, you sprinted forward, abandoning the tablet on the ground. Your shoulder roughly met the door as you tried to run it over but it held steady. Frantic and terrified, you banged on the door, voice caught in your throat.

You fell forward but caught yourself barely for a massive hand to push you further into the room. Everything was a blur until your mind could finally catch up to see the scene before you.

We’ar-ow, in all of her mighty, snarling glory, stood defensively before you. Her long, lethal claws glinting in her quarter’s light as her fingers flexed, ready to tear into flesh and bone. A threatening, dangerous snarl ripped through her throat, daring, challenging anyone to take step forward. Nothing, no one did.

Her door closed, sealing the two of you safely in her place. From the overwhelming, mind breaking terror running through your veins, you fell to your knees and wrapped your arms around yourself. That didn’t help an ounce to calm yourself down.

Your breaths were ragged, tearing at your throat. Hot tears poured down your face as you stayed kneeled on the ground and stared blankly. In your mind, you were far too caught in the whirlwind to notice anything in the real world. Had you just escaped death from whatever stalked you? A broken whine came from your dry throat.

Something warm, rough engulfed your jaw and forced your head to tilt up. A few second passed. Your eyes finally focused on We’ar-ow kneeling down, completely on her knees and checking over you. Clicks sounded from her mandibles and throat but the buzzing in your head drowned out the translator. You had no clue what was being spoken, nor did you care. The droning noise consumed everything. Nothing made sense right now.

One second you were on the floor. The next, you were being carried swiftly somewhere. We’ar-ow set you down on a cool ledge in what looked to be the bathroom. All you did was make the smallest noise of confusion while staring blankly at the light floors of the bathroom.

Freezing water splashed against your face, tearing you from your thoughts. You gasped harshly and squirmed to get off of the counter, but strong, sturdy arms held you in place. They were pinned on either side of you and kept you trapped.

“Look at me.”

Harsh words were snapped with trickles of what could believed as worry. Your head jerked up, eyes darting to find orange blazing orbs staring into your soul. There was something about that just almost soothed your soul instantly. Instead, you just stopped moving.

“Good, good pet,” she cooed and raised a hand to pet the top your head only to grab the strands. Her hand pulled slightly back to expose the column of your throat to her. “What happened?” Her voice was still softer, even gentler than before as she questioned you.

At the moment, all you could do was give a pathetic, broken cry that barely passed the lump in your throat. We’ar-ow leaned in closer to rest her close mandibles against where your neck and shoulder meet. At first, you tensed up and relaxed, her hand the only thing keeping you sitting up. “Who hurt you?” she tried again, staying soft and inviting. “Tell me who hurt you, my pet.”

A purr began to rumble deep in her chest. It was a sound you hadn’t heard before from the pink Yautja. Dwainet… he’s done it before, so many times before for you. This was different, somehow, someway.

You cleared your throat the best to get rid of the majority of the lump to speak. “I-I-“ your voice cracked, dry from all the running. “Don’t kn-ow.” We’ar-ow continued her purring as she pulled back enough to fill a hand with water. She brought it up to your lips. Too desperate to wash away the scratches in your throat, you gulped it down. The Yautja did this two more times for you.

“What happened?” Now, We’ar-ow was look straight into your eyes, no longer purring. Nervous from the eye contact, your gaze darts around the bathroom. She wasn’t going to let that go. Instead, she grasped your chin once more and forced you to look at me. In her eyes, she wanted to know the truth of how you ended up as a terrified, trembling mess at her door.

Both of your hands played mindlessly with the helm of the shirt she gave you. Then, you explained from the moment you stepped out into the hall and all the way back to her room. The entire time, she didn’t let her or your eyes leave as much as that made you anxious.

Once the last word left your lips, We’ar-ow stood in silence. The cog wheels in her head spun.

Out of nowhere, We’ar-ow scooped you from the counter and held you bridal style. The strength of her body easily taking you from the bathroom to… her bed? The low, half above ground mattress of sorts was neatly put together with furs and blankets. Four pillows lined the head of the bed. The Yautja knelt down to pull at the covers before slipping you underneath them.

The terror and complete puzzlement that controlled your body at that moment held you in place. What was she doing?! We’ar-ow pulled the covers over you, up to your chest and stood back up. “Stay. I will investigate,” she said before turning to take her leave.

Deep down, from the pits of your mind, you wanted nothing more to reach out and stop her. The words ‘wait’ on your tongue. But she was out the door before you could gather the courage to do so.

Her bedroom door closed and made a clicking noise. A lock? But… why? Why did she not take you to your room? Why her room? You gulped and ran a hand through the strands of your messed up hair. All of that running and freaking out did nothing for your hair.

A shaky breath filled the air as you look over the room. Back on her wall of trophies, those human skulls stared at you with their empty eye sockets. One day, will she turn you into that?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

[cruisingheightswithdragons]

Star Trek: Lilip

Interlude One: Convergent

Summary: Lilip studies the biology of various sapient alien species, and enthuses about their findings to Guinan.

Word Count: 1754

Author’s Note: I may pepper around shorter chapters, called interludes, in which I couldn’t really think up ways to make it three acts long. Also, the next chapter after them will be a couple weeks longer to post, just so I can keep a good sized backlog ready. This one in particular goes into a couple of headcanons I have on some species :)

Interlude

Lilip adjusted the hair tie that held up their ponytail before brushing their bangs from their face. Entering Ten forward, Lilip crossed the lounge until they made it to their favorite spot: a small table in the corner right next to one of the tall windows. Sitting in the plush chair made their blue crossover top ride up their back. Tutting, they pulled the fabric down, tucking their shirt into their black slacks. Matching their pants were plain, black boots much like what the Starfleet officers wore. Lilip wasn’t an officer themself, but they still liked to pretend they were when wearing outfits that were as similar to the standard uniform as they could get away with.

A gentle tug pulled at their stomach as Lilip watched the stars begin to streak by. The ship had just gone to warp. Lilip had heard that the crew had finished dealing with a pre-warp species known as Mintakans, which apparently evolved similarly to Vulcans and Romulans. While this fascinated them to no end, Lilip was not allowed to interact during the mission, as the Prime Directive was blatantly clear on intervening with pre-warp civilizations. Such an order confused them, as the Prime Directive had already been broken, and the damage done. Perhaps Lilip’s appearance would have spooked the Mintakans... Still, it would have been interesting to see the similarities in person.

Instead, Lilip sat at their table, PADD in hand, curiously examining the physiologies of various warp-capable species. Bolian, Caitian, Human, Napean, Cardassian, Betazoid, Vulcan, Klingon, Ferengi… The list was extensive, but Lilip relished the opportunity to learn more about these people. Perhaps learning about these species would bring them closer to their goal of discovering what they were, too.

“What are we researching today?” A voice ripped through Lilip’s studies, causing them to jump. Looking up, they saw Guinan take the seat opposite of them. She was always welcome to join Lilip to discuss their latest notes. Her violet dress and matching hat were beautiful to look at, as a bonus.

“I was reading the latest report about the mission with the Mintakans,” Lilip explained, holding up their PADD, “It got me wondering about Vulcans and other space faring species. You know, how they evolved, and what adaptations allowed them to develop into intelligent, sapient beings.”

“A fascinating subject.” Guinan encouraged.

After an enthusiastic nod, Lilip glanced around the lounge, their eyes resting on Commander Riker speaking with Counselor Troi several tables away. “Look at them, for example,” They nodded towards the pair, “Riker is a human—he has blue eyes with white sclera, his forehead is smooth, he has no tail.” Flicking their own tail, Lilip let the corner of their mouth curve upwards briefly. “Then look at Miss Troi. She’s a Betazoid. Her eyes are all black, she has two bumps on her head, reminiscent of her species' antlers. And apparently, she has a small, vestigial tail. Also, she’s able to sense the emotions of others, while Riker—as a human—can’t.”

Lieutenant Worf entered the lounge, and stood by the bar to talk to another security officer, which Lilip took notice of.

“Then you have the Klingons. Notice how they have those ridges on their forehead? They evolved from a species with a thick exoskeleton especially around their brain and arms, which moved inward a long time ago. And do you see his facial hair? I’ve heard rumors that Klingon men grow a fu-manchu to mimic the venomous mandibles they once had—which are now fused to their jaws.”

Guinan smiled. “And do they have tails?”

“Nope!” Another thought crossed Lilip’s mind as they excitedly rambled. “I’ve read about Cardassians, which do have tails. Look, they’re ectothermic reptiles!” Tapping at their PADD, they pulled up an image of Cardassian anatomy. “The hair on their scalp mimics a lot of other species, but that actually evolved from a feathered crest millions of years ago… or so I’m told. We don’t really have a lot of information on them.”

“What about these Mintakans? You said they were similar to Vulcans?”

Lilip nodded enthusiastically once again. After tapping at their PADD, they turned the device to show the screen to Guinan. “Look at this! Mintakans have upturned eyebrows with pronounced brow ridges. And see their pointed ears? It’s as if they were a combination of Vulcan and Romulan with these features. Their tails, too!” They traced their fingers across the screen to accentuate the tail. “A mostly bald, muscular limb with a tuft of fur at the end… It’s convergent evolution on an intergalactic scale!”

Resting her elbow on the table, Guinan let her hand cradle her chin. “And why do they all look so similar, hm? Not just between these Mintakans and Vulcans, but Betazoids, Humans, Klingons…”

Lilip blinked. “Huh?” Come to think of it, they had never given thought to the word ‘humanoid’, although they loathed the human centric language used for the term. Most of the crew aboard were humans, but there were plenty of other species making up the roster. Regardless, they all shared the same upright posture, plantigrade bipedalism, broad shoulders that showed a history of brachiation, large craniums, flat faces with forward facing eyes… It was a wonder that Lilip had never thought about it until now.

“Let me ask you something,” Guinan continued, “What do you think that says about them?”

“I’ve never really thought about it before,” Lilip admitted, “I guess it never really crossed my mind…”

“Hm.” Guinan nodded. “You get so caught up in how different you are that you’ve never noticed that you are one in the same with everyone around you.”

“But I am—” Lilip was about to say “different” when the word caught in their throat. Their last words came without thinking, but upon further introspection, it dawned on them just how much the same they truly were to their fellow crew. Looking at their reflection through the window, they noticed the same humanoid features that everyone else had. If they were so similar to everyone else, why were they still so unknown?

Guinan smiled. “So, what can you tell me about you?”

“M-me?” The question was inevitable, but it still caught Lilip off guard. Their eyes moved to and fro, searching for their words. Blinking, they gazed back into Guinan’s eyes. “What about you? You’re not a human, right?”

Giving a long nod, Guinan said, “Right.”

“Yet you look exactly like a human.”

“Maybe humans are like the Mintakans of the El-Aurian. What was that phrase you said? ‘Convergent evolution on an intergalactic scale?’”

While it was just a simple jest, it sat with Lilip. They raised their palms, facing them upwards as they looked at their digits. So close to the answer, it fluttered away when they noticed their magenta skin tone. Eyes that were once widened with realization fell hooded.

“We’re so similar, but so different.” Moving their hand to and fro, Lilip ended up grabbing their tail. “You don’t have a tail like mine, no one else I know has these ridged ears, either… let alone purple skin and hair.” They placed their index finger and thumb against their ears and pulled, showing just how alien they were. “I’m a complete unknown. Wouldn’t that make you feel alienated, too?”

“Similar, but also different…” Guinan repeated. “Isn’t that what makes it interesting? It’s an infinite universe, yet we’re all here amongst each other. Sharing camaraderie just by being together.”

Lilip nodded along as they turned to face the window. Stars streaked across the view, rainbow prisms blinking in and out of sight. They sighed. “I suppose we are the same, but I’ve lived all my life as something so different, so unknown, I can’t help but roll back to that train of thought.” They sighed, and let their gaze fall to their hands clasped together on the table. “I wish I could share the wonder of being unique that everyone else seems to have, but it just makes me remember how different I am.”

“Then don’t think about it.” Guinan advised.

“How can I not think about it?! I’m in space with a bunch of aliens, of course I’m going to think about how different I am!”

“Everyone’s different to each other.” Guinan’s patience was godly. “I’m different from others of my people, Riker to other humans, Worf to other Klingons. Yet here we are, building friendships and relationships with one another. Could it be that you’re no more different than anybody else, too?”

It took all their effort for Lilip to hold their tongue. They wanted to scream that it wasn’t the same, but they had to admit that it might as well be. Why were they so desperate to prove how much they differed from everyone else? Why try to convince themself that it’s a flaw? Lilip struggled to find the answer.

“I guess…” They mumbled, “I guess I always felt like it was wrong to be what I am… like it was wrong to be different.” Lilip looked Guinan in the eyes. “But, we are different, we’re nothing alike.” They looked at their hands, seeing how their shapes matched that of their companion. “But I guess that’s something we all share, isn’t it? We’re the same that way.”

After a bout of silence, Lilip spoke yet again. “Why did I even bother giving you the runaround about how I feel about myself? Ugh…” They let their chin rest on the table.

“You said you always felt that way,” Guinan answered, “A challenging perspective can feel like an attack sometimes.”

“It’s so hard to articulate why I feel like that, though. Ugh, I feel so dumb!”

“You can’t change your way of mind overnight.” Guinan glanced towards her bar and stood. Looking back down at Lilip, she smiled. “I enjoyed our talk. I’m glad I got to learn something new today.” With those words, she parted, crossing around the bar and stopping to chat with Worf.

Guinan’s wealth of knowledge made Lilip think that she was just trying to be nice. What exactly was it from that conversation that she had learned? Regardless, her kindness worked, and they felt better. Their differences being uniquely theirs had always made them feel like an outcast, but now a new light had been shed on the subject that always haunted them.

Different? They thought to themself. Yes, but no more so than anyone else. Echoing Guinan’s words, Lilip stared out the window once again, the vastness of space was all the more beautiful.

[redprotons]

One night stand

For the Doctor Rose bingo - no warnings apply... but this is unbeta-ed

Feeling dejected, Rose jumps at the chance when a handsome alien starts flirting with her, not realising how much it would hurt the Doctor.

Rose honestly didn’t think it’d hurt him so much. Especially after leaving her behind for five and a half hours. After the longing looks, the high praise, for Madam pompadour, she was convinced that, despite the lingering hugs and increased handholding, he just didn’t see her that way. They were mates, nothing more, regardless of what Micky said.

Feeling down and ugly and missing Mickey, she decided to sod the Doctor and his issues for a bit. And when this really fucking hot, like whoa mumma hot, alien - tall, tanned but with a slight more pinkish hue to his skin, curly mop of perfectly styled hair and abs that gave a cheese grater run for her money – started flirting with her, decided she was going to have some fun. She needed it. And he was very, very… attentive.

The Doctor was silent, that was her first clue. He'd been there, he'd seen them talking together. At first, she jumped into that fake façade learnt from him, acting all excited rambling about adventure and dinosaurs, and a real life Jurassic Park. It didn't work, and she didn't like that. So, she did what she did best and, once the Tardis landed, she wandered off towards the quieter areas of the park, away from the crowds around the T. rex enclosure. He walked a step behind.

She sat down under the trees, on a raised platform, and looked out at plant eating dinosaurs she’d not seen in any books. They watched the herd with its young, eating giant leaves on the trees, the sun creating patches of light on their skin. In the distance, birds mixed with the cries of other dinosaurs.

“You... danced with that guy.” the Doctor said, his voice somehow grave and guarded at the same time.

“I’m sorry?” she spluttered.

“You slept with him. Canoodled. Cavorted. Whatever you want to call it.”

Oh. “What… we” She went to confess but then realised his tone. “That’s none of your business.” she floundered out angrily.

“Isn’t it?” he bit back. “I have the right to know what’s happening on my ship.”

“But it wasn’t on your ship, was it!” her voice got louder, sharper.

His face dropped. The hurt was plain on his face, but he hid it with anger. “I see.”

Oh, no. She suddenly felt like shit. She wanted to explain, but at that moment his hurt morphed to anger. “Why do you even care?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he snarled.

She scoffed. “Me? You’re the one acting so high and mighty. What? So I can’t go out and enjoy myself, but you can fawn around with any princess or mistresses you like?”

He instantly went to argue, but bitterly found he couldn’t, pressing his lips together.

“Yeah, exactly. So don’t you dare judge me.” she finished, and the sentence spurred on the insecurities that’d been building. He did judge her. Look down on her. “I’m sick of it. I get enough of that from strangers back home. I don’t need it from you.”

He kept his voice level. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh piss off.” she snipped.

“Rose.” he warned. “I'm serious. What do you mean?”

Was he actually that dense. She threw her arms up. “Oh, I dunno. She’s just a slag from the estates. A chav. Some stupid slapper. Well, I can do what I like.”

The anger that tensed the muscles in his face weakened a bit. He watched her for a second. “I didn’t mean it like that.” he said carefully.

She scoffed, tears pricking as she rolled her eyes.

“Rose.” he said, a tiny bit in his voice that sounded like a plead. She didn’t look at him. “I don’t think that about you. Never have. Never will.”

She wasn’t impressed. “Yeah, try five seconds ago.”

His voice became irritated. “I told you, I didn’t mean it like that!” he rushed out.

“Yeah. Then what did you mean, then!”

Startled, he dropped his head, unable to meet her.

“Yeah.” she scoffed. “That’s what I thought.” Putting on a brave face, she went to get up. He caught her by the arm.

“Rose.” he said. This time she stopped, trying to read him. There was something in the way he said her name.

She waited.

“I –“ He took a deep breath. “I’m not – I don’t think that about you.” Annoyed, she pulled her hand away, but his grip only tightened. If it was any other bloke, she’d be scared, but the Doctor wasn't that sort of man, no matter what he thought of himself. “I’m – I was – angry at you.” He got quiet. “I thought we were together.”

She blinked. It took a moment to process. Her face softened. He must’ve felt in her posture too, because he let go of her arm. “Yeah.” she said, all anger gone. “Me too, but then France -”

“Nothing happened.”

She wasn’t convinced. “But you liked her. You wanted it too.”

He didn’t say anything to that. Yeah, she thought. But the victory made her feel empty.

“And whenever…” Her voice was suddenly trembling. “When I think something’s going to happen, you always run away. You can’t be mad at me when you never make it clear. I mean you've never even told me you saw us like that until now.” There was no fight now, she just wanted him to understand. "It makes me feel like shit."

He just stared at the ground, defeated. "You never said anything, either."

"Because I was scared you'd freak out, and leave me behind like you did with Sarah Jane." 

She so desprately wanted him to say something. She watched his profile, the misrable expresion on his face. No words left his lips. “I’m going back to the Tardis.” she said. With a passing glance, she walked towards the ramp down to ground level, desperately wanting him to call after her.

Of course, she couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning, she decided she’d had enough of all the thoughts swirling around in her head, and was going to go for a swim, get something nice to eat, then put on some episodes of Eastenders to try and distract herself.

She’d changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas; her hair wrapped in a towel. Her gob ungracefully mid-ice cream spoonful when the Doctor entered the media room.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

There were so many things she could’ve snipped back. “Not really.” she said instead. She wiggled the tub in his direction. “Want some?”

He hesitantly took that as an invitation. “Thanks.” he said, patting down his suit and pulling out a spoon contraption from his bottomless pockets. The air was heavy as he took the tub and scraped his spoon around the edges. Rose tried to focus on the programme, but she couldn’t help notice he wasn’t eating, just… stalling.

“I’ve never thought you were beneath me, Rose.” When she stiffened, he added. “Never. If anything, I think you’re way above me.”

There was such sincerity in his voice, she knew he meant it. She sighed, unable to look at him. At the same time as it surprised her and eased her fears, it also cast doubt. She fiddled with her earing-less ear instead. “But you didn’t make me feel like it. Back in France.” she clarified. “And that, hurt Doctor. I thought you were different.” She was making herself upset. “I thought… doesn’t matter.” She didn’t want to cry.

“Yes, it does.” he prompted gently. “Tell me.”

She looked at him then, huffing in frustration. Not all at him, mostly at herself. What a mess she was. “Like I’m just some add-on, or an extra. That I’ll never be posh enough, or smart enough, for anyone to take seriously.”

Their eyes locked, and he looked right into her soul. Whatever pathetic mess he saw seemed to devastate him.

“I’ve really hurt you.” he said, turning his gaze to the floor. His lips parted, then he stopped and put the tub on the coffee table in front of them.

“Yeah.” she said, a slight crack in her voice.

“I’m sorry.” he admitted smally. “I didn’t mean –“ He took a fortifying breath. “I did like her.” he admitted, distaste in his voice, like he hated himself for it.

The truth cut her. Deep. No, she wouldn’t cry.

“But Rose, you have to believe me. I didn’t… not as much... I was...” He was getting himself muddled. He paused. “I – I care about you.” he said, changing his mind at the last minute. "A lot. And that's terrifying."

She perked up. They both knew he really meant 'I love you'. “Yeah?” she said. “Why?”

He took a sharp intake of breath, interlinking his fingers. “I told you. I'll lose you one day, like I lose everything else.” His lips parted again, but he froze. He couldn’t do it and turned his head fully away from her. "Because then it would hurt."

She studied him for a moment. His body was so tense. He was expecting some sort of reprimand and, despite having ideas, she could only guess what. He did was really scared, though, she could tell that.

With a sigh, she sat back down and shuffled closer to him, taking his hand and interlocking his fingers. Needing some bravery for the both of them, she kept her focus on where they joined. “Alright then, how about you just hear me out for a sec. I worry I'll lose you too." His eyes sharply met hers. "Yeah. Either you'll leave me behind, or you'll send me back, or you'll do something so stupid like you always do and I won't make it in time to save you. But you know what? I'm still going to stay, as long as you want me, no matter how much it hurts later."

His grip was calculated and tentative as he gazed back at their hands. His lips parted, but this time he pushed through. “I always want you around, Rose.” he said. “Always.”

Her heart leapt, suddenly wanting to give him a massive hug. It showed on her face. “Then I'll stay forever."

At her words, he relaxed. His shoulders unwound, and he began playing with their fingers, weaving them in and out, the tension gong. "And no more... - we're together now, properly."

Her smile grew. “Yeah, no more queens or really, really, like really good -."

"Rose." he said, the tone dark but she knew he was kidding around.

"Just us, yeah?"

He looked up then, his eyes bright and hopeful. The corner of his mouth twitched, “Yeah.”

Her heart couldn’t help but turn to mush. Each time he looked at her like that. Every time. The moment felt right. The calmy munching dinosaurs and just setting sun now the pinicle of romance. For her own courage she leaned in and kissed him. Just a quick peck.

When she pulled back he blinked, looking pretty bewildered. She was about to flounder out an appology, but next thing she knew his lips were on hers in a full on sog. She grabbed his really, really great hair and tugged as she deepened the kiss, something she'd long fantisied about. He let out low growl and whoshed right through her.

Oh boy was she in trouble.

[emblemcest]

Sooooooo I've been trying to get into some HotD fanfic but the sheer quantity and length of it all is... a tall hurdle, haha.

Which is to say: y'all got any recs?

Likes:

Aegon and Helaena are of greatest interest to me right now - I'd love stuff really focusing in on them!!

Gwayne and Criston also, maybe? (BIG bonus if there's acknowledgement that Rhaenyra sortaaaa. sexually assaulted him, accidentally.)

Ship-wise, Helaegon is GREAT, Helaemond I'm of interest (so long as he isn't too Evil Edgy Dom. bc that's boring haha.)(doms aren't sexy) Gwayne/Allicent and Gwayne/Criston also great. Maybe Aegon/Jace?? I need to investigate further. Either way incest is a plus obviously lol but I'm open to interesting rarepairs, too.

Character studies/development/slowburn over more plot-focused stuff

Original setting, please!! Or at least not a modern AU (unless it REALLY fits my other likes.)

It doesn't need to be short or even finished but I 1000% prefer structured and focused fics to 'I started writing this and let's see how it goes.' Effective build-up of tension and meaning is *chefs kiss*

not too much, like, overt character/team bashing. This world is best when everyone's a bit fucked up and a bit okay. Clear-cut villains are also boring.

Angst. Pining. Erotically charged chivalry. Yearning. Period-typical sentiments. Loyalty kink. Ambiguous relationships. Maybe actually unrequited love. Loneliness and desperation for affection. Hurt/comfort. Bittersweet or plain unhappy endings. Intricate rituals. Pretending so hard you don't know what's real anymore. Miscommunications because they both have entirely different belief systems built upon on their own unique traumas united only by an inability to ever be truly honest with themselves/another. Tortured, forced vulnerability regardless.

Autistic Helaena whenever possible <3

this is. stupid. but i don't. rly want stories abt how awful men are and how badly women all collectively and identically have it. im a girl(???) but im autistic and these narratives are. alien. to me.

so uhhhh as always this is long. But it is a list of inspiration!!! Nothing will match all of these things haha just; are there any fics this makes you think of at all???? ;;🙏

[karasbroken]

I'm American, so on top of work being very high pressure at the start of the year, my nation is in the throes of massive, toxic change. The desire to flee into fandom is there, but the energy to write posts or stories has been lacking. So apologies for not keeping up with my usual Farscape dithering.

But I did manage to write a whole scene over the last couple days. Small, and pointless, but complete. So I thought I'd share, even a day late.

Setup is that Aeryn and John have landed on a random planet because John wanted to and they're now walking down to the shoreline of a purple sea. The planet doesn't have a moon, so it doesn't have large wave activity (in addition to spinning faster than the Earth and other features that don't matter).

The beach, when they arrived, was even less impressive than it had looked at a distance. A wide flat plain of sand that sucked at their boots, with water streaming in and out in slow oscillations that barely warranted the name of wave. 

The most interesting feature was a swarm of tall multi-legged insectoids traversing the shoreline. They proved to be robotic harvesters of some small, mud-dwelling creature, plucking them up, then storing or discarding them according to some unknown rubric. Like the airborne drones, the machines scattered at their approach, crept closer again after a micron, then resumed their work.

Aeryn scanned one of the rejected animals, whose red shells blended into the sands almost perfectly until overturned, revealing a mass of bright blue tendrils. Only Rigel would be able to eat it without exhaustive preparation. "Don't touch those," she commented over her shoulder. Their suits should withstand the acidity, but there was no reason to risk damage to hard to replace gloves. 

Crichton only grunted an acknowledgment. After a quick check that the water had a tolerably low alkalinity--corrosive, but only at a very slow rate--he had immediately waded quite a distance into the sea, seemingly intent on figuring out how far he could go before the water deepened. He was crouched down now, face denches from the surface.

"If you get your faceplate cracked by some attacking alien, I can't guarantee I'll be able to carry you back to your module before this air damages your lungs."

That got his attention. "Carry me?" He looked past her, in the direction of his module, only the top edge of it still in sight. "Could you really carry me that far?"

"If I had to. Don't make me have to."

"Don't be such an anxious skin protrusion." He slapped the water with one gloved hand, then scooped a little up in his palms, looking closely at it again. "There doesn't seem to be a large variety of aquatic animals here, and it's still too shallow for anything big. But I think I know why the ocean is purple."

"Skin protrusion?" Aeryn asked, apparently not coldly enough to reclaim his attention.

"It's algee! Single-celled, but the water is full of it."

Aeryn stooped down to stare at the water too, feeling foolish. It just looked purple to her. "I don't see anything."

"They're too small for the naked eye, but you can see them with the oculars. Man, I wish I had something to take a sample. I wonder if they're the same as Earth…"

It had never even occurred to Aeryn that the oculars could be used on something so small. That they could be used to magnify at all. She didn't remember any training on that. "Why do you need a sample?" she asked, trying to focus the oculars on the water, and only getting a closer view of the deep red sand beneath.

"Just to study. I'm no life scientist, but this stuff is interesting! And before you ask, no, not study to make medicine, or a weapon, or food. I just want to know how they work." John stood up straight again, gesticulating around him. "All this stuff, everything, all the time is a bizarre mixture of things I understand, that are familiar, like beaches and shell-fish and farms. And things that I don't. I know you're blind to the mysteries of the universe, but some of us like to see."

That felt like a pointed jab at her inability to focus the oculars, but she didn't respond, just pulled the medpack out of her belt pocket, janked out an empty syringe, and activated it to suck up some of the purple water. Then she handed it to him. "You have a sample, satisfied?"

"Uh… yeah." He took the syringe, holding it up to the sun, and shaking it a little. "Thanks."

"Don't lose it," Aeryn started wading back to the beach. "If we bring back some microscopic alien and get sick, Zhaan will need it to try to save us."