#if someone had made me a leader of a large group of people between the ages of 15 (not quite 16) and 19 (close but not quite 20)

[thistaleisabloodyone]

God, I still feel for the then 23 and 20 year old Likiya and Zin, who basically went from "You failed an audition to join the group of your dreams" to "We're putting you in a new group, but you are now jointly responsible, at least in part, for the health, sanity and success of 14 young men between the ages of 15 and 19." I mean, at least Riku turned 20 pretty close to the start of their intensive training in July and the four fifteen year olds aged up to 16 during the training as well, but goddamn. No wonder Likiya's and Takuma's relationship is described as one of a parent and a child.

Especially considering the whole time, they all thought members were going to be cut - the three vocalists thought one of them wasn't going to make the cut because there had never been a three vocalist Exile Tribe group before. Could you imagine? You're living in the dorms with these 15 other guys and the whole time you're wondering if you'll be in the group at the end, if your friends will be in the group at the end. Poor Rui, who already cried when he made the Exile audition finals without Kenta - like, was he worrying that, once again, he'd succeed without Kenta at his side?

And the whole time, poor Likiya and Zin - I'm unsure of, like, the specific responsibilities of a leader in a music group, but I can imagine they have some responsibility to keep the other 14 healthy and sane, while also trying to ascertain the group's success. I have a documentary from the original album that I can't fully understand, but I did transcribe and translate a line Likiya was saying - it sounded like he was critiquing one of the singers and I think he was talking to Riku, from the camera angles, who looked slightly like he was mentally shutting down, and Likiya didn't really look happy to be saying it.

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

[nishirikiluv]

Twisted Love

Strange Encounter

pairings: yandere!jay x reader

chapter warnings: fear, drugging, a bit of noncon, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: sorry for taking so long to post this! I hope everyone enjoys this, I love feedback so please feel free to let me know what you think! This is my first series as well so I will do my best to make it a good read :) This is not proof read btw so I apologize for any spelling mistakes or other errors!! 🥲

masterlist | chapter 1 | next

It was nearly 1am and you were still in the office finishing up your work. All of your coworkers left around 10pm and the only sound filling the office now has been the click clacks of your keyboard. You haven't taken a break once today, not to eat, get a drink of water, nothing. There was some commotion earlier over a handsome new hire but you didn't have the time to worry about it. The only thing on your mind was finishing this project.

You had been assigned as a group leader for the first time since you started working here. If everything went well you could end up being promoted, so you were determined to not mess anything up.

You had been feeling hungry for a few hours now so you decided that a break would be okay if it was very short. When you got up from your chair you only then noticed how eerie the office looked when it was dark and empty like this. You pushed that thought aside and went to grab your unopened lunch from earlier. It was just some instant ramen and a bottle of soda.

You quickly made the instant ramen and sat back down at your desk to eat. Of course. you didn't want to waste too much time, so you worked a bit while you ate. Suddenly, a strange sound rung out through the large building. It sounded as if it came from afar, maybe not even the same floor you were on. Goosebumps rose on your skin and you suddenly felt extremely uneasy.

You quickly slurped the last of your ramen tossing it away, opting to finish your work tomorrow when people are still present in the office with you.

You made your way down the long narrow hallway to get to the elevator. The already dim lights flickered off and on, between flickers you could see what seemed to be a figure at the end of the hallway. After another moment, the lights settled and you realized there was someone else here with you.

You were completely struck by fear and your body froze up. The figure made its way towards you slowly. You wanted to run but you couldn't get yourself to move. The more he came in to view the more your anxiety heightened, his face was unfamiliar to you but you wondered how he could've gotten in if he didn't work here as well.

It was only a moment more before he stood directly in front of you. He seemed to tower over you, your eyes were leveled with his chest. The strange man reached his hand out to you. "Hello, I'm Jay. Nice to meet you."

What the hell?

You then looked up at him to see quite a good looking man. His facial features were chiseled and his hair was blonde and looked soft and silky. His eyes bore into you in a way that had the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up.

"Are you just going to stare at me? Or are you going to introduce yourself as well." He gestured to his hand that was still awaiting your handshake.

You hesitantly took his hand in yours to shake it. His grip became uncomfortably tight but you gulped down the anxiety that started to rise. "I'm... Y/n. Um it's late, I should probably head home now." You forced a smile, pulling your hand from his and rushing down the hall, not giving him another chance to speak.

He turned to watch you. His eyes never left you through your entire walk down the hallway until you entered the elevator. The lights flickered again as he stood in the hallway, a sinister smirk painted across his face.

It won't be long now, my love.

You rushed home as fast as possible, triple checking the locks on your doors and windows. You don't know what this extremely uneasy feeling was, but you wanted to avoid that man at all costs.

You tried not to think about him and chose to change and get into bed. His face kept appearing every time you closed your eyes. You'd even been startled awake so many times by phantom sounds of his voice calling your name.

You got up to grab a cold bottle of water. You weren't sure if it was paranoia but you heard a cracking sound coming from your room where you'd just left. You grabbed a knife from the kitchen, holding the water bottle under your arm and slowly approached your room.

You took a deep breath before slowly opening the door. You looked everywhere and there was no one to be found. You were relieved but you felt embarrased for hearing those mysterious sounds all night and ruining your sleep over them. You also weren't able to finish your project and that bothered you even more.

You laid down, attempting to sleep once more. Of course having the same outcome and not being able to get enough rest.

Before you knew it your alarm was ringing and it was time to get up and get ready for work. You rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face and haphazardly applying your makeup. You could see dark circles under your eyes but you were too tired to care and the throbbing headache you had was an additional factor to your lack of energy. You quickly got changed and rushed out of the house to get to work.

When you arrived at work you heard more commotion of that new hire. You couldn't have cared less until you caught sight of him. You could see everyone crowding near the desk he was working at. He payed them no mind, just focussing on getting tasks done. Thats when it hit you, it all suddenly made sense. Jay was the handsome man everyone was talking about. That's how he got in last night.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at him as well until he looked up and his eyes met yours. You snapped out of your trance and hurriedly got situated at your desk. After a couple moments he was behind you, spinning your chair to have you face him. You jumped in your seat with a gasp, grabbing onto the arms of the chair. "Jay- What are you-" "I'm joining your group for the project, our supervisor told me to let you know." You looked around seeing the shared whispers between your co workers. You never liked attention, it made you anxious. "You could've told me that without scaring the shit out of me." You rolled your eyes turning your chair back around, but he stopped you. "Is.. there something else." He nodded. You stared at him, shifting uncomfortably and waiting for him to speak. His eyes traced over you, leaving you with the same feeling from the night before.

He leaned closer to you, causing you to back up and leaving you pressed into the desk. His face was inches away from yours and your heart was pounding in your chest. His eyes scanned your face and he softly chuckled, "Stay late after work today, Y/n."

You couldn't formulate a reply, not that he would've waited for one anyways. He left you stuck to your desk and returned to his work without another word. You took a deep breath and gathered yourself, turning back around. You sat idle at your desk for a while.

"Y/n, what was that all about?" One of your coworkers sat at the desk next to yours with a judgemental look on her face. "What? Oh, you mean Jay. Nothing, he was just letting me know he's going to be part of my group for the project." She sighed, "Ah that makes so much sense!" She turned away to her group of friends. They all whispered loudly enough for you to hear. "Of course it was just because of work," one of the girls scoffed. "obviously he wasn't interested in her, shes not that attractive." You rolled your eyes, ignoring their remarks.

You glanced up to see Jay looking over at you. You tried your best to ignore the feeling of his gaze but at one point you'd had enough. You made your way over to the restroom just to have a few minutes without being watched. What's his deal?

You carried on with your day, zoning out everything around you. Once it hit 10pm, everyone began packing up their things and leaving.

"Y/n." You looked up to see Jay hovering over your desk. "Ah, Jay.. you'd asked me to stay late after, right? " He nodded, taking the seat next to you. He pulled your chair in front of his, you sucked in a breath making eye contact with him now. "Is... is this about work..?" He chuckled, placing his hand on your knee. "Of course, I'm just curious about the project." He rubbed your thigh, causing your body to go stiff beneath his touch. "Jay- I-" You quickly grabbed his hand, forcing it to stop. "I have to go." You stood up grabbing your bag and heading for the elevator. He followed shortly after you, his steps matched your pace. He walked slower when you slowed down and he walked faster when you sped up. Once you were inside the elevator you rapidly pressed the button waiting for the door to close. Unfortunately you weren't quick enough, right before it closed he swung his bag through the small gap causing the doors to re-open.

You gasped and harshly pushed your back against the wall of the elevator. He slammed his hands on either side of your head. The dark look in his eye made shivers run down your spine. "You know, it was quite rude how you left just now." You lifted your head to look at him, your eyes welled up with tears formed by fear. You weren't able to speak, he didn't seem to mind your lack of reply though.

You felt uncomfortable by the close proximity between the two of you. The ride in the elevator felt like an eternity to both you and him, for different reasons though of course. Neither of you were able to take your eyes off each other. For you, it was fear. For him, it was lust.

The elevator finally came to its stop, the door opening. "I'II let you go now. Baby. But we'll talk about this later." He left a soft kiss on your forehead before exiting the elevator. You were left with a single tear rolling down your cheek.

You eventually made it home, but of course you were pretty shaken up. You felt so dirty. The second you put your things down you got into the shower. The steaming hot water was all you needed right now. You took a nice long shower and prepared to sleep.

You sat on your bed checking your missed messages when a loud thump was heard. It sounded like it came from your balcony. You got up and peeked through the blinds but there wasn't anything there, so you sat back down. But it happened again. And again. And again. This time you went outside, you looked below, to the sides, and above. But there was nothing. What the hell is going on?

You leaned against the railing, looking out at the street. It seemed to be peaceful, the road wasn't too busy, and the sky was full of stars. It would have been a perfect night

You took a deep breath getting ready to go inside when a hand suddenly clasped over your mouth. You kicked and screamed into the hand. The person's other hand held tightly onto your waist to prevent your thrashing. Their hand was removed from your mouth for less than a second before a cloth was pressed back against it. You tried prying it off but their grip was too strong and so eventually, you lost conciousness.

You woke up on the floor of an empty room with white walls. It was dark but not to the point where you couldn't see. You sat up holding your head in your hands, you felt groggy and had a painful headache.

You looked around the room but there were no windows and no way out other than a single door that you assumed would be locked.

As if on queue you heard the locks being opened and someone came through the door. The lights flipped on and your breath hitched in your throat. "Jay..."

"Hello, Y/n." His saccharine smile made you feel sick. "Why did you bring me here." He knelt down in front of you, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Isn't it obvious, I wanted to see you." You pushed his hand away, "Well I don't want to see you." He cooed at you, lifting his hand back up to caress your cheek. "One day you won't feel that way anymore." You pushed him away again but this time he wasn't having it. He pinned you against the cold floor, holding you by your waist. You pushed at his shoulders but he wouldn't budge. His eyes studied every inch of you. Oh how he loved to see you vulnerable like this beneath him. You felt his lips on your neck and immediately you were kicking and punching. He had no trouble holding you down, he liked it more when you put up a fight.

He only stopped when he heard your soft frustrated sniffles. "Shhh Baby, It's not that bad. You'll get used to me." You shook your head, holding back a sob. Jay got up leaving you on the ground. He left the room momentarily, but came back within seconds. He got down and pulled you in for a hug, inhaling your scent. You were too tired to fight him this time, he could tell, so he placed a short peck on your lips while he could. After that you felt a small poke in your neck and you were out like a light.

You woke up to your usual alarm. You shot up looking around, feeling distraught. You were in your bed in your room. But you could've sworn you were with Jay? You had been very stressed with anxious thoughts after the incident in the elevator so could it have been a dream?

It just felt so real..

[nocturnowlette]

Aren't you worried about forming a cult of personality?

Group hypnotherapy, mediated especially by a single individual, seems to encourage that kinda parasocial following.

Mix that with personalised sessions with multiple people, possibly seen as lovebombing. Elevating your audience to the idea that they're a mutual, when they're not even close to your personal life.

Why not just point to a larger, more professional hypnotherapy server? Such could guide the individual to somebody that may be better equipped for them personally, and constructive yet critical peers for yourself and other hypnotists.

It could offer other methods (including non-hypnotherapy ) that could guide individuals to heal faster.

Imo, it's a lot healthier when attention is spread out mutually, and treatment exposure is not at the whim of a subjective personality.

And if just a group, not primarily about hypnosis and more about your explorations of it, then you should post that kinda stuff to your channel instead so the video can receive feedback from hypnotherapists, and it'll be able to be seen by everybody, not just the people in your server, and you can just do puppy stuff there. As long as it's all safe and doesn't form unhealthy bonds that prioritise escapism over wellbeing.

You seem confused on what this server is.

Firstly, it's not hypnotherapy at all; it's a recreational hypnosis server. I, in fact, actively discourage anyone who is not a professional therapist (let alone hypnotherapist) from attempting to serve that role to someone else. Many hypnotists who just start out see conditioning as a hammer and every emotional problem as a nail, and I shut that down immediately.

You also seem to heavily overestimate my role as the server leader. If we were to quantify activity of hypnotists in the server, I likely would not even be in the top 5. I've largely lost my interest in regular hypnosis sessions for the last few months and serve mostly as the teacher and guide, as well as just the administrative server owner.

This server is not even about hypnosis so much as it is a community server that has hypnosis as a binding topic. If I were to give a topical split of how much it's talked about versus everything else, I'd say that it composes less than 10% of all discussion in the server. Therian/puppy stuff takes up slightly more than that, maybe 20 to 25%, then the rest of the server is nerds talking about their interests and having fun.

Any emotional progress made in the server is consequential and due to the place letting people feel safe to be themselves. Such a thing does seem to help folks quite a lot, but no active therapy is being done, and we encourage folks to actually seek therapy among other things.

My role as the server owner is largely due to necessity. I've always found myself at a lack of communities that actually suit me, so I've always had to make them myself. I quite dislike being the leader and much like with hypnosis, I actually prefer being on the lack-of-power end and not the super-in-power one. I'm a subject far more than a hypnotist.

I'm selective about who joins because every single server member to have caused issues and then left joined the first day of the server before there was a member cutoff. This place simply won't work for the majority of people, and the people who are let in are ones that would benefit from it.

On to the other topic, I trust therapists who know some hypnosis, not hypnotherapists. Hypnotherapy has been infected by quacks who know next to nothing and is, by almost every measure, a community destroyed by scientific mysticism. It is maybe the worst representation of hypnosis in our world and at best is hardly helpful, while at worst is actively destructive.

Every hypnotherapist I've met has been woefully knowledge-less on the actual functions of hypnosis and how it works, and seems to only know how to do the specific things they're taught. It's the difference between memorization and understanding. They were chewed up and spit out by the pseudoscience factory and think they know anything.

I have no intentions to ever be a hypnotherapist because it is not even close to the best method of processing any emotions whatsoever. I like hypnosis as a hobby, a way to have fun with people. If you want something similar that is more helpful, look into Gestalt therapy.

[okasuka]

Jason todd x Y/N.

disclaimer!!: this is obviously not an accurate characterisation, but i do not write fanfictions specifically for other people, they’re just for me. but they are welcome for others! - gotta add this coz someone was complaining about me adding my own features into the fanfic 😢 don’t complain bro this ain’t about you, just switch it up in ur head or something

The streets of Gotham were no place for anyone, especially not at night. Y/N knew this, but the demands of her grueling medical internship had forced her into the unenviable position of walking home at nearly midnight. Gotham General had been short-staffed again, leaving her on call far longer than she’d intended.

Her sneakers scuffed the cracked pavement as she walked briskly down the poorly lit street. A chill hung in the air, the kind that made every noise—every distant car horn or crackling trash bag—seem sinister. She clutched her bag tightly to her side, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She passed an alley, and that’s when she heard it—the low murmur of voices.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a rough voice called from behind her.

Y/N froze, her heart plummeting. She turned slowly, dread pooling in her stomach as three men emerged from the shadows. Their postures screamed trouble, from the way their shoulders hunched to the sneering smiles that curled their lips.

“Out late, huh?” The leader of the group—a tall man with greasy hair and a jagged scar across his cheek—spoke first, his tone mocking.

“Leave me alone,” Y/N said, trying to sound firm.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” another thug chimed in, circling around her like a vulture. “We just wanna chat.”

Y/N took a step back, only to bump into something solid. She turned sharply and found herself face-to-face with the third thug, who grinned menacingly.

The leader pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open with a theatrical flourish. “How about you hand over that bag, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s heart pounded as she clutched her bag tighter. “I don’t have anything worth taking.”

“That’s not for you to decide,” the scarred man said, stepping closer.

Before he could make another move, a voice—deep and dripping with sardonic amusement—echoed from above.

“Really? Three against one? That’s just embarrassing.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, and her breath caught as a figure dropped down from the fire escape above, landing in a crouch between her and the thugs. The infamous red helmet gleamed under the faint light of the streetlamp.

“Red Hood,” one of the thugs growled, his bravado wavering.

“Ding ding ding,” Red Hood said, standing to his full height. He reached for his twin pistols holstered at his sides. “And guess what? You’ve officially pissed me off.”

Part 2: The Fight

The thugs hesitated for a moment, their confidence shaken. But the leader gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the knife. “We’re not scared of you.”

“Maybe you should be,” Red Hood shot back, tilting his head. “But hey, I love an overconfident idiot.”

The leader lunged forward, but Red Hood sidestepped him with ease, delivering a brutal punch to his gut that sent him sprawling to the ground.

“Anyone else?” Red Hood asked, his tone almost bored.

The second thug pulled out a crowbar and swung it wildly. Red Hood caught it mid-swing, yanked it out of the thug’s hands, and used it to knock him out cold with a single blow.

The last man standing turned to run, but Red Hood was faster. He grabbed the thug by the collar, slammed him into the wall, and whispered something Y/N couldn’t hear before letting him drop, unconscious.

Y/N watched the entire scene unfold in stunned silence, her bag still clutched tightly to her chest.

“You okay?” Red Hood asked, turning to her.

Before she could answer, the sharp crack of a gunshot split the air.

The sound seemed to echo forever. Y/N’s eyes widened as Red Hood staggered, one hand flying to the side of his head. His helmet cracked and shattered, a large piece falling away to reveal his face—a young man with sharp features and intense blue eyes. Blood trickled down from a graze near his temple.

“Dammit,” he muttered, swaying slightly before dropping to one knee.

Y/N snapped out of her shock and rushed to his side. “You’ve been shot!”

“Really?” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm even as he grimaced in pain. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Don’t move,” she said firmly, inspecting the wound. “You need medical attention.”

Red Hood smirked, though it was weaker now. “Lucky for me, I found myself a doctor.”

“I’m a med student, not a doctor,” Y/N corrected, trying to keep her voice steady. “But you’re not dying on my watch.”

With some effort, she managed to help him to his feet, looping his arm over her shoulder.

“You’re strong for someone so tiny,” he remarked, his voice slightly slurred.

“And you’re heavy for someone who talks so much,” she shot back, hauling him down the street toward her apartment.

Part 3: Treating the Red Hood

Y/N’s apartment was a modest one-bedroom in a rundown part of the city, but it was clean and well-lit—an oasis compared to the chaos outside. She guided Jason—she now knew his name from the brief glimpse of his face—into her small living room and eased him onto the couch.

“Stay here,” she ordered, rushing to grab her medical kit.

Jason leaned back, his eyes fluttering closed. “Bossy,” he muttered. “I like bossy.”

When she returned, she found him trying to sit up. “What part of ‘stay here’ did you not understand?” she snapped, kneeling beside him.

Jason chuckled weakly. “Sorry. Not used to taking orders.”

“Well, you’re taking them now,” she said, carefully removing the broken remains of his helmet to get a better look at the wound.

The bullet had grazed his temple, leaving a jagged cut that was bleeding profusely. Y/N’s hands moved with practiced precision as she cleaned the wound and prepared to extract the bullet fragment.

“This is gonna hurt,” she warned.

Jason grinned. “Pain’s kind of my thing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

It took nearly an hour to remove the fragment, clean the wound, and stitch it up. By the time she was finished, her hands were shaking from exhaustion.

“There,” she said, sitting back. “You’ll live.”

Jason touched the bandage on his head and smirked. “You sure you’re not a doctor?”

Y/N shook her head. “Just a stubborn med student.”

“I like stubborn,” he said, his tone softer now.

Part 4: Walls Come Down

Jason ended up spending the night on Y/N’s couch, though not without protest.

“You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” she said firmly, crossing her arms.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “And what if I don’t take orders?”

“Then you can bleed out in the street,” she shot back.

Jason laughed—a genuine, warm laugh that caught her off guard. “Fair enough, doc.”

The hours passed quietly as Jason rested and Y/N kept an eye on him, unable to shake the curiosity she felt. She knew about the Red Hood—everyone in Gotham did—but seeing him like this, vulnerable and human, made her wonder about the man behind the mask.

“Why do you do it?” she asked suddenly.

Jason opened one eye, regarding her thoughtfully. “Do what?”

“Risk your life every night. Fight criminals. Get shot at.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Someone has to,” he said finally. “And I’m good at it.”

Y/N frowned. “That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone.”

Jason smirked. “Alone’s kind of my thing.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” she said softly.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away.

Part 5: A New Beginning

By morning, Jason was back on his feet, though Y/N insisted he take it easy.

“You’re a terrible patient,” she teased as he adjusted his jacket.

“And you’re a great doctor,” he said, his tone sincere.

Y/N blushed. “I’m just a student.”

“Yeah, well, you saved my life,” Jason said, stepping closer. “That counts for something.”

The air between them grew charged, their banter giving way to something deeper.

“You’re not what I expected,” Y/N said finally.

Jason tilted his head. “What did you expect?”

“Someone scarier,” she admitted.

Jason laughed. “Guess I’ll have to work on that.”

Before she could respond, Jason leaned in and kissed her—a gentle, lingering kiss that sent her heart racing.

When they pulled apart, he smirked. “Thanks for the save, doc.”

Y/N smiled. “Try not to get shot again.”

“No promises,” he said, winking as he slipped out the door.

As Y/N watched him disappear into the morning light, she couldn’t help but feel that their story was just beginning.

Part 6: An Unexpected Visitor

It had been a week since Jason left Y/N’s apartment, vanishing into Gotham’s shadows as quickly as he had appeared. In the days that followed, she found herself thinking about him more often than she cared to admit. There was something about the way he’d smiled at her, the vulnerability hidden beneath his cocky exterior, that lingered in her mind.

But she told herself it was ridiculous. He was the Red Hood, a vigilante with a dangerous reputation. She was a med student barely scraping by. Their worlds couldn’t be more different.

Still, that didn’t stop her from glancing out her window every so often, wondering if he’d ever come back.

It was late—close to midnight—and Y/N was curled up on her couch, a mug of tea in her hands as an old sitcom played on the TV. The apartment was dimly lit, the warm glow of a single lamp casting long shadows on the walls. She let out a soft sigh, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Then she heard it—a soft thud against the window.

Her heart jumped, and she sat up quickly, her eyes darting to the source of the sound. The curtains were drawn, but the silhouette of a man loomed against the glass.

For a split second, panic set in. Then she saw the faint glint of a red helmet under the streetlights outside.

“Jason?” she whispered, hurrying to the window.

She pulled the curtains aside and slid the window open. Jason Todd—this time without his helmet—stumbled inside, clutching his side. His black leather jacket was torn, and blood seeped through the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey, doc,” he said, his voice rough but tinged with that familiar teasing edge. “Got room for one more patient?”

Part 7: Bandaging Wounds

“Jason!” Y/N gasped, immediately moving to support him as he nearly collapsed into her arms. “What happened?”

“Ran into some trouble,” he said with a grimace, leaning against her for support as she guided him to the couch.

“Trouble? That’s an understatement,” Y/N muttered, already scanning his injuries. The cut on his side was long and deep, blood soaking through his shirt and dripping onto her floor.

Jason noticed her frown and gave a half-hearted smirk. “Don’t worry about the mess. I’ll mop up later.”

“Shut up and sit still,” she said, her tone more worried than annoyed.

He chuckled but obeyed, sinking onto the couch with a wince. Y/N disappeared into her bathroom and returned a moment later with her medical kit and a bowl of warm water. She knelt beside him, her hands steady as she carefully peeled back his jacket and shirt to reveal the full extent of the damage.

The gash stretched across his ribs, angry and raw.

“This is bad,” she said softly, her brows furrowing. “Why didn’t you go to a hospital?”

Jason shook his head. “Can’t exactly walk into Gotham General looking like this. Besides,” he added, his voice softening, “I trust you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words, but she pushed the feeling aside. “You’re lucky you didn’t hit an artery,” she said, cleaning the wound with gentle, precise movements.

Jason hissed in pain but didn’t complain. His eyes followed her every move, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by something quieter, almost tender.

“Do you always play nurse for stray vigilantes?” he asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

“Only the reckless ones,” she replied without missing a beat.

Jason grinned despite the pain. “Guess I fit the bill.”

Part 8: A Simple Request

It took nearly an hour to clean and stitch the wound. By the time Y/N finished, her hands were aching, and Jason looked pale but stable.

“There,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “You’re all patched up.”

Jason leaned his head back against the couch, letting out a long breath. “You’re a lifesaver. Literally.”

Y/N started to pack up her supplies, but Jason reached out and grabbed her wrist gently.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. “Can I ask you for one more favor?”

“What is it?”

“Food,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’m starving.”

Y/N blinked, then laughed despite herself. “You sneak into my apartment, bleed all over my couch, and now you want dinner?”

Jason shrugged, his grin widening. “What can I say? I’m a man of many needs.”

Shaking her head, Y/N stood and made her way to the kitchen. She didn’t have much—living on a student budget didn’t leave room for luxuries—but she managed to put together a plate of sandwiches and a glass of water.

Jason practically devoured the food, his usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.

“Thanks,” he said between bites.

Y/N sat beside him, watching as he ate. He looked different without the mask—more human, more vulnerable.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said quietly.

Jason paused, glancing at her. “Do what?”

“Put yourself in danger every night. Get hurt like this.”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It’s what I do. It’s who I am.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to do it alone,” she said softly, echoing the words she’d spoken the last time he was here.

Jason’s gaze lingered on her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to be alone,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Part 9: A Confession

Y/N’s breath hitched at Jason’s quiet admission. His walls, the ones he so carefully kept in place, seemed to crack under the weight of exhaustion and vulnerability. She searched his face for a moment, trying to decipher his expression.

“Jason…” she began, her voice soft.

He held up a hand, cutting her off gently. “I know what you’re gonna say. That I’m reckless. That I’m stupid for putting myself through this every night. And you’re probably right.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Y/N said firmly, surprising even herself.

Jason blinked, caught off guard. “Then what?”

Y/N hesitated, her hands fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “I was going to say… maybe you don’t have to carry all this by yourself. Maybe you deserve to have someone who cares about you.”

His eyes widened slightly, the faintest hint of vulnerability flashing across his face. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said, his voice strained.

“I know exactly what I’m saying,” Y/N countered, leaning closer. “You’re not just some vigilante, Jason. You’re human. And humans need other people. Even you.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt electric, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Jason finally said, his voice rough but sincere.

Y/N smiled faintly. “I think you’ve hit your head one too many times.”

Jason chuckled softly, but his gaze remained fixed on her. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart pounding in her chest. “Jason…”

Before she could finish, Jason leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was as tentative as it was charged. For a moment, the world outside seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them.

When they pulled apart, Jason rested his forehead against hers, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks for not giving up on me,” he murmured.

Part 10: A Shared Night

As the night deepened, Jason’s exhaustion began to catch up with him. Y/N noticed the way his shoulders sagged, the lines of pain that still lingered on his face.

“You should get some rest,” she said gently, standing to gather the first-aid supplies she’d left scattered on the coffee table.

Jason smirked, though it lacked his usual energy. “You kicking me out, doc?”

“Not tonight,” she replied with a small smile. “But you’re not sleeping on the couch. You need a proper bed if you’re going to heal.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint returning to his eyes. “You offering me yours?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her cheeks turned pink. “I’ll take the couch. You take the bed.”

Jason shook his head, his expression softening. “No way. You’ve done enough for me. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Jason—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, his voice firm but warm. “You’ve already patched me up, fed me, and let me crash here. Let me do this one thing, okay?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But only because you look like you’ll pass out if I argue any longer.”

Jason chuckled, easing himself back against the cushions. “You’re not wrong.”

Y/N grabbed a blanket and draped it over him, her fingers brushing his shoulder lightly. “Goodnight, Jason.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes already drifting shut.

Part 11: An Unexpected Morning

Y/N awoke to the faint sound of movement in the kitchen. For a moment, she panicked, thinking someone had broken in. But then she remembered Jason, and the events of the previous night came rushing back.

She sat up quickly, her heart pounding. Jason was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he attempted to make coffee. He looked slightly better this morning, though his movements were still stiff from his injuries.

“Morning,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a sheepish smile. “Hope you don’t mind me raiding your coffee stash.”

Y/N crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t even be on your feet.”

Jason shrugged. “Can’t help it. I’ve got a terrible habit of not listening to good advice.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Well, as long as you don’t burn my apartment down, I guess I can let it slide.”

Jason laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Noted.”

They sat down together at the small kitchen table, the morning light streaming through the window. It was a strangely peaceful moment, a sharp contrast to the chaos that had brought them together.

“You know,” Jason said after a while, his voice thoughtful, “I didn’t expect to find someone like you in this city.”

Y/N tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Someone… good,” he said simply. “Gotham doesn’t have a lot of people like you.”

She smiled softly. “Maybe you just haven’t been looking in the right places.”

Jason reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers. “Maybe.”

Part 12: A Promise

As the morning wore on, Jason began preparing to leave. He moved slowly, still favoring his injured side, but his determination was clear.

“You don’t have to go,” Y/N said quietly, watching him lace up his boots.

Jason paused, his expression softening. “I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“You already did,” she pointed out, a teasing smile playing at her lips.

Jason chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He stepped closer, his blue eyes locking with hers. “But seriously, Y/N… you’ve already done so much for me. I don’t want you getting hurt because of me.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said firmly. “And maybe I want to help. Did you think of that?”

Jason smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

“Maybe I just see something in you that you don’t,” she replied, her voice soft.

Jason leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Thanks, doc,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For making me feel like I’m worth saving.”

With that, he turned and slipped out the window, disappearing into the Gotham skyline once more.

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

J-Hope's Enlistment

❒ genre: Slice of life

❒ words: 1.3k

❒ summary: In which Hobi spends the night before enlisting with Chaeri and Namjoon

❒ prompts requested from the dialogue prompts game: “I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me”

April 17, 2023

The building could hardly be considered a bar, more like a small shack with barely enough room to fit the counter and a few stools. Two tables, each only able to seat two people, took up the rest of the space. Despite its cramped size, they had intentionally chosen this place for the night, needing the privacy it offered.

The walls were made of worn wood and damp stains were scattered throughout, now covered by old movie posters dating back to before any of the three at the bar were even born. The illustrations, faded and worn, were movie posters, many from the mid-80s, and all shared a common theme: nostalgia. Which happened to be a shared feeling among them.

"Guys, I... I can't drink," Hobi hesitated, his fingers uncertainly hovering over the small glass - courteously offered by Namjoon - in front of him. "Tomorrow is an important day, everything will be filmed and I want to be at my—" but before he could finish his sentence, the amber alcoholic concoction disappeared from the trajectory of his fingers that were still uncertain what to do: to drink or not to drink?

Without hesitation, Chaeri next to him snatched it away and downed its contents in one gulp.

"Chaeri" Namjoon's tone held both reprimand and resignation as he watched her eagerly drink both her Andong Soju and Hobi's. 

“I need to be drunk to make it through tonight” she muttered “And you should drink too, you look awful.”

Hobi could not help but chuckle at the situation.

Their leader's normally composed expression was replaced with one of shock, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as if it was the first time the youngest member of their group had spoken to him without the expected respect for someone older.

Namjoon opened his mouth to respond, but then quickly closed it, instead resting his forehead on his open palm and leaning heavily against the counter. "Three more" he finally managed to request from the bartender, who simply nodded and filled three glasses with the same amber liquid as before. 

LATER

He had seen this coming. 

The moment they had suggested spending one last evening together, before it became impossible for who knew how long, he knew it would end like this: in the back of a luxurious car, with him sandwiched between two drunken friends, his shoulders serving as pillows. 

They had laughed and reminisced about the good old days, the first sips of alcohol, the first arguments, and then they had cried. 

Chaeri had ranted about the injustice of their society, how they were forced to endure over a year of grueling training because of an absurd law. 

Hobi didn't want to leave; deep down, she was right. 

But he had no choice. He would have given anything for a thousand more sleepless nights spent with his friends, now his chosen family, rather than fulfilling his duty as a South Korean citizen.

Namjoon was the first to get out of the car once they arrived in front of his residential building, which was the first stop. His legs wobbly from the drive and a few too many drinks.

With an affectionate gesture, he gave Hobi a reassuring pat on the shoulder, promising they’d catch up in the morning, and despite his slightly inebriated state, he also playfully ruffled Chaeri's hair, who was still wearily leaning on Hoseok. Staggering slightly as he stepped out onto the pavement, Namjoon closed the car door with a dull thud.

The car remained stationary for a moment, its engine idling softly, while everyone inside watched Namjoon walk toward the large entrance door of the building. Only when their leader had completely disappeared inside did the driver engage the gears, and the vehicle slowly pulled away.

Several minutes of silence passed in the dim cockpit, lit only by the flickering streetlights that passed the car. "I don't want you to go" Chaeri murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but clear. There was no tremor or drawl in her words, despite all the alcohol she had consumed, only a deep sadness could be sensed.

"First Jin, and now you... who knows who will leave next, and slowly I will find myself alone. I will have no one left. I don't want you to go." Her eyes, sparkling with barely held back tears, met the boy's look, begging, as if she might expect a different answer than the one she already had, as if he might assure her that he was going to stay.

And he wished, with all his heart, that he could.

He wrapped his arm around her, the one Chaeri had been leaning on since they got in the car, pulling her close to his chest in a protective embrace. It was a familiar gesture, repeated countless times during their late-night drives after events that left them both exhausted, when the only sound was the soft hum of the engine.

Chaeri, with her reassuring presence and the fruity scent that seemed uniquely hers, had grown far beyond the girl he remembered. Now, sitting next to him, he could see a fully realized woman, a transformation he had witnessed with pride over the years.

The realization that he had to leave her tightened his heart, a subtle and persistent pain, sharper than the thought of parting from the others. She was his masterpiece, the living testament to the time and love he had invested in her.

She had been his little Chaeri, and he had always been her 'big brother'.

"I don't want to go either" After a pause, he finally spoke up. His breath felt heavy and his throat seemed to have a lump in it, making his voice sound like a faint whisper. He reached out to gently stroke her long hair, trying to offer comfort not just to her, but also to himself.  "But time will pass quickly, and I'll be back before you know it. I'll call you every night, take days off so we can spend them together, and send you all the silly photos I take in that ridiculous uniform. I promise."

Chaeri leaned back from his embrace, her tear-stained cheeks glowing red from the Soju she had been drinking "You better keep that promise" she said, biting her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. "Or I'll personally come looking for you."

Hobi couldn't help but burst into laughter, feeling the tension in his chest melt away, as his own eyes grew watery. "You're not very threatening when you cry" he teased, playfully poking her cheeks with two fingers. 

"And you won't be threatening in a military uniform."

"Oh, I'm well aware of that" Hobi joked back.

"Besides, green is definitely not your color."

"I disagree! I look great in green!"

Chaeri smiled, looking at him tenderly. Playful bickering like that would have been one of the things she would have suffered most away from him. With the palm of her hand she wiped her cheeks "I'm going to miss you"

"I'll miss you too, kid" 

"I know I won't be able to say much in front of the cameras tomorrow, so... I just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. For all these years, thank you. Maybe I've never said it before.. but I mean it"

The man felt his heart swell with love once again as his gaze rested on Chaeri, who looked back at him with her big eyes full of affection. They were a mixture of sweetness and melancholy.

He had to squint slightly to contain more tears. It was incredible how he had become attached to her and the other members of the group over the years, how protecting them and caring for them had become his deepest instinct.It had become instinctive for him, a natural extension of his love for them. He never expected anything in return because every smile from them, every moment of happiness or success, had been his greatest reward

"You never had to say it, Chaeri”

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

[heartfullofleeches]

What about murder clowns with monster reader who was part of a freak show and the clowns saved them

It was supposed to be an easy hit.

Bump off a few of the performers, take their places, and lay low for a little while. When the heat picked up and the police where on the lookout for a colorful gang of criminal misfits, the circus workers would take the spotlight as they prime suspects meanwhile they got off scott free with some new outfits for the road if they got lucky. The perfect crime.

"I want that mask. Tonight."

Two of the lookouts face the third with a shared look of bewilderment. Out on the stage, mere moments before the clown's declaration, a new performer had appeared on stage. Carried in an oversized toy box, the figure peaked from its lid - red smile peering out at the ground. As it was placed down, the performer crawled outside the box, long sleeves swaying against the wooden stage. They wore a mask with crossed out eyes and your typical jester grin, cheeks as rosy as the tent hovering above. They trip over their sleeves as they stand to their feet; the tumble gaining an uproar of laughter from the crowd.

"Dude, no. You saw the posters. They're the main act. If we kill them off we'll definitely get caught. Especially because none of us are that tall."

"Ahhhh. " The defiant clown sticks out their tongue and blows so hard it distorts the paint of their fellow band members. "It'll be fine. Besides, you all left me out of the fun like always. I'm sure the boss won't mind too much."

"That's because they're the most batshit out of all us."

"Whatever. I'm getting that mask whether you're in or not."

The third member of the group gets up and walks off, followed by the others. As they exit the tent, a young child tugs on their mother's dress.

"Mom? I think those clowns kill people."

"That's nice sweetheart."

-

After the show ends and the clowns get the go ahead from the one in charge, they stalk the circus workers at they carry the toy box backstage. That perfomer was nowhere to be seen and a lock was placed on the box before they left. If the clowns were lucky, maybe the mask was left in the box and they could continue with their original plan. The sledhammer welder of the gang made quick work of the lock - a small whimper coming from within.

"What the hell was that?"

A dozen hands work together to pull open the box, a large shadow bursting free and darting for the corner of the tent. With no clear exit, it cowards - hiding its masked face with its claws. They instantly recognize that smile.

"It's that performer." One of the earlier lookouts chimes. "The heck is wrong with 'em?"

A solo member of the group steps towards the performer, wearing a blood stained police cap to mark themself as leader. Their eyes narrowed at the mask. It was chained to their face. They usher for someone to hand them a lock pick and approach closer. "Easy, now. I'm not gonna hurt you."

The performer straightens against the wall at the sight of the tools, but eases due to the clown's gentle voice. They make quick work of the second lock, helping them pull off the mask. Their eyes, they were full of stars. Small clusters of light that moved in unison and shrunk against the dark background of their eye to express their fear. The creature chitters, hiding behind the comforts of its mask prison.

"Well I'll be damn.... Aren't you pretty." The clown holds a finger under their chin. The performer seems torn between pulling away and giving up, ultimately melting into the new contact. It was then and there they decided they couldn't kill this creature, nor let them go.

The clown smacks their lips. "Yup."

"Boss?"

They turn to the crowd, pulling the performer to their feet and catching them before they could fall. "Looks like we got a new member of the crew. You all know what to do. Burn and slaughter whoever gets in your way."

There's some obvious mixed reason to the news, but they all immediately bounce at the chance of raining hell. The less blood hungry of them lead the performer out to their hideout, joined by two of the watchers from earlier.

"So.. you upset you don't get their mask?"

"Nah, this is better." They tear down a flyer from the tree, reading the name hovering over the jester popping up from their toy box. "Come on, Y/n. Let's get you home."

[hihigherdi]

This is long.

I had dinner last night with my friend/employee who’s here for a work trip. He had some incredibly profound things to say about the election that I’m still thinking about today.

I’m reflecting on where I could have been braver. Where I could have been kinder. Mostly, on a part of my life where I was on staff with Young Life, a Christian organization I was heavily involved in during college, and afterwards. When I graduated, I signed up to support a small tutoring program in Seattle’s Central district with at-risk kids that were little, not in high school. Mostly Black and Samoan. My parents hated it. I was the rebel.

The most profound thing I experienced from that year was seeing and contending with my own racism. My classism. I learned how my family had made choices in where we lived so it was predominantly white. I felt unsafe being the minority. I hated how I was seen differently by the other white people in camp, I was there with the kids who made them uncomfortable. I saw how much my identity was viscerally tied to being one of them, these white leaders who had so much fun, were so funny and made me feel like I belonged to a group of people who wouldn’t reject me. But it was these kids who made them do that, I thought to myself. Now they see me as “other”. I hated it.

I remember buying a brand new car and the kids oohing and hanging over it, and I felt sick, realizing the wealth disparity between us. I was 22 years old, realizing some of this for the first time.

It was the most uncomfortable time of my life, I hated almost every second of it but I emerged from it differently, mostly because my Black and Samoan colleagues were so kind to me. I confessed a lot to them - I asked a lot of questions that were likely exhausting for them. They never called me a racist, even though it would have been true. They never scolded me. They loved me and were excited for me that I was on this journey. They were right next to me the whole way. They weren’t shy about asking me questions or saying hard things. They moved in a way where I felt deeply accepted in my vulnerability. Looking back, how hard that must have been in the face of my ignorance is not something I take lightly. It was by far, the most foundational year of my life, I think about some aspect of it almost everyday. I became more aware. Less racist. More empathetic. It changed me permanently.

One man in particular, a speaker at a camp, said something to me that became a core memory. There was a certain girl that was very tough, and I was trying to figure out how to be with her. He just stared at me, probably bewildered and said “just hang out.” that answer baffled me at the time, mostly because I had no idea how to do that with anybody. He spoke to a large group of people after that, mostly white people, and someone asked him how they’ll know they aren’t a racist anymore. He quietly said “when you are willing to give a person of color the full and complete control - the last word - on who they are.” I’ve never forgotten that. Isn’t that what any of us want?

There’s much to be humbled by. Am I invested in being angry, or effective? Everyone infuriated me during this election - Trump supporters, Christians, Andrew Tate supporters, Joe Rogan fans Jill Stein supporters, even pro-Gaza supporters and a lot of the Leftists in the political landscape. I was furious with everyone who wasn’t completely behind Harris. I called people racist on the internet. I called them evil. I scolded, I routinely and regularly vented my moral outrage. The worst part is that I meant it.

So this is my confession, this hatred. My misuse of moral outrage. My need to feel like I was liked.My rage when someone wasn’t acting in my own very specific terms. My behavior that made so many defensive instead of supported.

Ironically, those who I felt were screaming at me (broadly, not specifically) for my Whiteness, for not supporting Gaza enough, saying I support genocide if I didn’t do or say or agree with their very specific terms of support absolutely shut me down and I felt myself pulling further away from them, just keeping all of my thoughts to myself. I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud and felt like I couldn’t, after all it was largely this group that got us a decent candidate in the first place. Were they right, and I was just being defensive? Well yeah - they were right. And yes, I was defensive. Maybe I didn’t care enough. All I knew is I was tired of being told my level of care was not acceptable, and trying to appreciate the position that the VP was in with our Ally as Putin pushes further into Europe meant I didn’t care at all. That was not giving me the last word on who I am, and I was pissed. I stopped learning about it, I minimized my engagement with them. There was no psychological safety to be vulnerable.

It’s overly simplistic to say who is at the heart of that blame-wise. I think it’s more important to acknowledge it’s pretty human, and the damage it causes when we go underground is significant. And that in this decolonizing journey, I still don’t know how much of the oppressed opinions of me I need to accept if it doesn’t ring true for me in my soul. If there’s any space to say “no you’re wrong about me.”

And I have to wonder if that’s how a lot of people in the country who voted for Trump felt about me. I know that’s true. I wanted to feel like I was part of “the best”, and I treated them as though they weren’t. I hated their character - I still do. They genuinely frighten me. But being the same as those who I saw as the most righteous was more important to me than anything else, it was more important to belong to those I saw as “right” vs being effective. It’s my need to have a family. To not be alone.

It is also my Whiteness, needing to never feel rejected or that someone is mad at me, that’s how it manifests most for me but I’m glad I’m at the place where I am know it’s not entirely that. I am not my Whiteness entirely, though people can and do see me that way. I still get to acknowledge those other aspects of me that many might be unwilling or just not invested in seeing.

Getting at the root cause of why we (white women) do so much damage is mystery and is pretty personal but I think there has to be space for vulnerability to see the brokenness inside of us that is the source of so much unconscious, harmful behavior. There are margins of us that are broken and kind of insane - what do we need to get ahold of it? Is there any solution? I don’t know, beyond something supernatural but I do know being scolded by those who are aligned with elevated values does not seem effective. Part of me as I write that says “oh my God, are you saying you need to be managed and catered to?” that’s gross if the answer is yes, and exhausting. I just don’t know what’s truly effective in promoting change. Part of me wonders if full change is possible and we just need to be overcome/minimized/outnumbered. Its possible.

So I own a lot of contribution to this failure. This rage I feel is weird, particularly when I''m not going to be hurt much by any of this. I need to figure out what parts of it are grounded in empathy and which parts aren't. All I can do is be more honest about my missteps, my own lack of character and braver in talking about it and hope the journey will find some companions along the way. Or not, most of this is a journey we take alone, I guess.

Do you want to be angry or do you want to be effective, Diane. You can be both, but not when they cancel the other out.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Blood-Stained Camellias - Ayato (Part 1)

Author Notes: It's October, so it's time for the vaguely Halloween-themed fics! So here we are, a vampire!Ayato fic series! This series is going to be 4 chapters long. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-Neutral Reader/ Vampire! AU/ Arranged Marriage/ pining/ romance/ some drama/ fluff with a touch of angst/ sfw

Word Count: 1535 Words

[Part One: You're Here!], [Part Two], [Part 3], [Part 4]

Trigger Warning: Vampires, Mentions of Blood

I shifted slightly where I sat across the table from Ayaka. Both of us idly listening to the sound of Thoma humming in the kitchen as he finished the snacks he’d been so determined to make while we all waited on Ayato. And though I hadn’t been engaged to the head of the Kamisato clan for all that long, I was finally getting used to this familial group. 

Even if this was a match made solely for political reasons.

The peaceful scene was interrupted though by the sound of a crash that had both me and Ayaka jumping in alarm as Thoma dropped something that fell with a bang in the kitchen. 

The sounds of yelling filled the air from all over the Kamisato estate, and for a brief moment I was frozen. My hands pressed against the table before I shoved myself to my feet. Ignoring the tea that spread across the already dark wood of the table from my knocked-over teacup.

I dashed out the door as another crash sounded, ignoring the panicked way Ayaka shouted my name as Thoma emerged from the kitchen area with an equally distressed expression on his face.

But I knew perfectly what was probably happening. After all, I had already prepared myself for this to at least a certain degree when I’d first been told that I would be marrying Ayato.

 Because Ayato was the head of the Kamisato clan, and even though Inazuma was no longer at war, assassination attempts were still far too common. And even if Ayaka, Thoma, and Ayato didn’t mention them to me, I still knew they occurred. 

How could they not? It didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out there were a fair number of people who held a grudge against the Kamisato family when they had managed to dodge most of the fallout from the ending of the war here in Inazuma and the reveal of the Fatui's involvement.

In fact, it could even be argued that, unlike the other noble houses associated with the tri-commission, they’d ended up benefiting from everything that had happened simply because they hadn’t associated with the Fatui and thereby remained in the people’s good graces.

People either wanted them gone or wanted to be connected to them in some sort of way.

As condemning as it was to say, even my own family had quickly shown interest in the power the Kamisato clan held when I’d first become a candidate for marriage to Ayato. It was the whole reason they’d leapt at the chance and had pushed for an introduction between me and him. And it was why I was here now.

My heart was pounding as I prayed that all was well, even as I burst through the doors of Ayato’s office. It was true that ours was just a political match, but that hardly mattered in the light of everything that was happening.

Because while he might be quite a shady piece of work, I most certainly didn’t want him dead and had even come to be fond of him. In fact, I was quite lucky with our match since it could’ve been far, far worse.

I felt myself grimace at the state of disarray that the usually clean room was in as I immediately spotted the doors to the patio.

It looked like someone had fallen or slammed their way through them in some way. Leaving the decorative paper shredded so that chilly night air gushed into the room, causing papers to flutter ominously on the largely wrecked desk.

I barely even hesitated before I was diving out of the room and into the night, my eyes darting around as I searched for any sign of the blue-haired clan leader.

Because while Ayato could most certainly handle himself and had plenty of people to defend him, I couldn’t help but panic a little.

Unlike him, his family, or his servants; I wasn’t as used to assassination attempts. My family had power, but nothing near the level of the Kamisato clan. Our power really only came from the age of existence as a more well-respected family in Inazuma.

As such, while we’d certainly received recompense for our status, it had never been anything like this at all.

Bluntly put, everyone had always been too busy with the state of Inazuma to bother with us in any real way.

My heart almost stopped as soon as I spotted the very man I’d been searching for, and I felt myself freeze as my eyes went wide in genuine horror.

Ayato’s usually pristine face and chin were smeared with a macabre red as he shoved a man far larger than himself off. Leaving the would-be assassin to fall in a limp heap to the ground without hardly making a single sound.

And then Ayato stood. His expression perfectly cold as he looked down at the crumpled body and wiped his mouth. Heedless, or perhaps uncaring, of the fact that the blood would most certainly stain his white suit. 

But far more concerning were his fangs that glinted condemningly, in a way that perfectly explained the marks on the would-be assassin’s neck.

Light purple eyes that would eternally remind me of a twilight sky raised until Ayato’s gaze finally met mine in a perfectly inevitable fashion as his gloved hand fell away from his mouth. 

I swallowed thickly, feeling as if I were rooted to the ground as surprise briefly flickered across his familiar but now haunting face before, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the shock was gone. Replaced by a careful mask that I’d often seen Ayato wear in numerous different situations. Including our initial marriage talks.

Distantly, I wondered if the blood that was splattered across the pure white camellias, that remained like a perfect backdrop to the head of the Kamisato clan, would stain them.

An odd thought to have, for sure, but one that lingered in my mind as I stared at Ayato, whose image was similarly marred by that brilliant red. And I couldn���t help but feel that perhaps my impression of him might be permanently stained in the same way those flowers might be.

I had never seen a vampire before though, and I’d certainly never expected one to appear before me with the face of my future husband. Because while I’d known for quite some time now that Ayato certainly had his secrets, this was one that I never could have expected.

A warm hand curled around my arm, bringing me back to reality and causing me to jolt, as I almost jerked myself away from the sudden touch. 

I spun with a gradually increasing pulse only to see Ayaka gripping my arm tightly. Her bright blue eyes filled with concern as she scanned me worriedly.

Behind her stood Thoma, who looked just as troubled as she did. A frown in the place of his usual smile as he looked towards where Ayato stood without the slightest bit of surprise. Only a bit of regret.

Questions swirled through my mind as I swallowed thickly. Unable to say any words to reassure Ayaka or question either of the young men as I slowly turned to look back at Ayato.

But what came next?

I’d most certainly learned something that they would definitely want to keep a secret. But surely they’d already been prepared to tell me about this? I was going to be marrying Ayato after all. Though the thought of unexpectedly becoming a vampire’s spouse, of all things, left me feeling cold. Far colder than I’d felt with the initial nerves that had come at the mere thought of marrying the head of the Kamisato clan and thus becoming one of the leaders of the Yashiro commission.

Ayato gazed at me with an unreadable expression as the silence between us grew gradually more weighty with a horrible mixture of unspoken questions and spiraling assumptions. 

My mind was already swirling with gradually worse possibilities that my future might hold. 

Surely they wouldn’t resort to silencing me?

I blinked with too-wet eyes as I realized, suddenly, that I no longer knew where I stood with these people, and I was left questioning my entire relationship with them.

Who else knew about this, or was it just the Kamisato family? Was Ayato the only vampire? What else did I not know about these people that, just a few moments ago, I’d felt fully prepared to call family? Was I expected to become a vampire as well if I went ahead with my wedding to Ayato? Did I even want to marry him now, and could I even back out if I wanted to?

But again and again, the same two questions popped into my head like a horrible recurring theme that I couldn't escape. What was Ayato going to do? And, perhaps more importantly, what was I going to do?

And through the virtual storm of questions, one simple truth emerged, as quiet as a whispered oath between two people who were eternally linked together, as I gaze at Ayato against the backdrop of blood-stained camellias.

Vampires were in Inazuma, and Ayato, my future husband, was one of them.

[calware]

Further details on those spaceship groups I made up a while back:

1. Every team had a preset captain+first mate(scribe/Operator/whatever), but everyone else was chosen by the captain.

2. The setup is a combination spaceship simulator/combat exercise (the characters are at a space military academy thing)

3. Selections were performed between each group of 4

World's Worst Polycule: Dave (chosen as captain to make him more responsible), Tavros (chosen as first mate to help him become more independent by working with other independent people)

All the other 3 were chosen in the moment by Dave; he decided who he thought would be the most fun to work with (which typically coincided with independence).

Jane: given automatically after all other alpha kids were picked.

He thinks Terezi is fun, and she's good at large field presence without working closely with others

He thinks Gamzee is fun/ his squad mostly fights independently

4 and a Half Girls: Feferi (chosen as captain b/c powerful family), Sollux (assigned first mate because of good computer skills/parallel processing)

Her other 3 were picked with the aim of making a setup most comfortable for them all.

Jade: Feferi usually has a sniper on her team in Eridan, so she made sure to get a sniper ASAP

Roxy: she got to pick first here, so she took the best all-rounder. Roxy can fit into whatever team composition they end up running.

Nepeta: given to her automatically when all other midbloods were picked

Toxic Magic Bullshit: Dirk (chosen as captain to force him to make decisions and figure out what's best for other people), Vriska (chosen as first mate to force her to both listen to someone else's orders, and to force Dirk to listen to his subordinates)

His other 3 were decisions mostly made from the limits of other people picking first.

Rose: Dirk and Vriska were both good short-range, so he wanted the mid-range Rose over the close-range John.

Aradia: given automatically as all other lowbloods were either captains or first mates (error on my part. Oh well!)

Eridan: you know how Dirk can't stand people who are too similar to him? That's why he took Eridan over Equius.

Almost Stable: Karkat (Technically the leader of his original team, but Sollux and Aradia are powerful enough to just do whatever they want), Kanaya (effective second-in-command, helps Karkat get used to actually leading)

Karkat had very bad luck with pick order.

John: given automatically after all other beta kids were picked

Jake: Jane scares him

Equius: given automatically after all other highbloods were picked.

All of these groups have some form of dysfunction, whether it be the Dave-Terezi-Gamzee hell triangle, Sollux dealing with exclusively people more energetic than them, Erivris, or Karkat's gripes with the fact that he barely picked anyone on his team + inexperience with actually leading.

They all have more problems than just those, but those are the standouts.

these character pairings are very interesting to me i'm rotating this in my mind

[pixies-and-poets]

Expectations vs Reality with Kanya!!

Hello Rabbid warren! Here’s something I’ve been chewing over since beating The Last Spark Hunter. I wanted to talk a bit about the way some of my speculation about Kanya (heavily informed by all the mutually-discussed theories here) clashed with the reality, and the ways in which her story both disappointed me a bit but also surprised me and surpassed what I expected. And so, let’s begin!

Expectation 1: She’s Edge’s sister

The idea was that, unlike the relationship between the other Hunters, the as-yet-unnamed Mysterious Foe and Edge were directly created to be sisters, and knew each other as such. This was strongly held by a lot of people, largely based on their similarities in appearance (eyebrows, hair, being more typical rabbids than the other spark hunters) and then reinforced by some great observations and speculations that went around the fandom. I myself was like 99% certain this is where they were headed.

Reality: Well, not really

So, while Kanya was created as Edge’s replacement and therefore to directly fill her role (thus accounting for the similarities in appearance), they seem to have the same lack of familial relationship as the rest of the hunters. In fact they are probably the ones who are MOST distant to each other, since Edge didn’t even know about Kanya beforehand and they had never met.

Verdict: Kinda sad about it

It’s a bit unfair to judge the story for missed opportunities based off of something that turned out to be completely invented by us, no matter how convincing the evidence was. BUT STILL, those fan-theories really made so much sense and got me excited for a unique relationship to be portrayed. Based on their similarities, I can’t help but feel that them being perceived as sisters is something the devs at least considered, but didn’t have time or chose not to make the story about that.

I still like to headcanon that they instinctively view each other as such, or that Kanya at least has little-sibling-jealousy even if it’s entirely one-sided and Edge doesn’t consider her family. But since this has to remain firmly in the realm of headcanon, it would be technically no more problematic to ship them than shipping Edge with Midnite etc. However, because I do see them as sisters in at least a mental sense, it’s not something I will ever do.

Expectation 2: The Last Spark Hunter... was actually the FIRST Spark Hunter!!!

I remember seeing people talk about this pretty much as soon as the image of Kanya was revealed, combined with the broken statue; speculating that she was the “proto Edge” and created first, possibly first of all the Hunters. If she “backfired” in some way, or was rejected by Cursa and replaced by Edge, this would make sense why she was apparently living in some isolated spot and we never see her with the others.

Reality: Nah, The Last Spark Hunter was actually just the last spark hunter

She was the last one Cursa made, she was created after Edge left in order to replace her, if you’re reading this I’m sure you know the story.

Verdict: ....I actually like this better

So I tried not too hard to think about “Mystery Spark Hunter” story stuff before we knew the truth, but I found myself imagining she had been created first and rejected, or created to be a co-leader with Edge and they fought and Kanya was banished... basically all my theories were tending towards the idea that she had been created before or at least alongside Edge. I loved the idea of her being the older sister when she was actually the little gremlin of the two with the higher-pitched voice, lol.

But actually? Learning she was made to be a replacement hits so much harder, now that I’ve let it sink in. She was made to lead these three people who had known, and fought beside, and cared for, another person before her. She was a newcomer into their group, into EXISTENCE ITSELF, made to live up to someone she could never live up to. Given just as much free will in order to be an effective leader, but demanded and coerced and probably “encouraged” to be subservient. What a tortured (possibly literally) existence she must have lived until she managed to break away from it all.

Honestly the truth is a complete reversal from my half-imagined theories, but it makes her a far more interesting character in the end. There’s so much left unsaid, so much we don’t know, but her character is inevitably tragic in the beginning, and then gloriously free, free to be an absolutely unhinged villain with no apologies, formed by - but not dwelling on - her sad backstory. A type of character I love.

My ideal reality

So, as you can see I was disappointed that they weren’t acknowledged as sisters, but pleased with the fact she was actually the second-born, the replacement. If I could do a rewrite of the DLC, I would combine these ideas - keep her backstory the same, but have Edge come to see a reflection of herself in this newbie, and offer her a caring hand, much like she deliberately showed her old (ahem) “friend” Midnite mercy. This, of course, Kanya would reject- but there would be a direct admission that they shared a special bond, of being the same in some way- and then Kanya would leave of her own free will instead of being blasted off, swearing that they would meet again.

Instead, probably because of time/development limitations, Edge just basically... does not care at all about meeting her replacement LMAO, it’s kinda funny in its own way, she’s like “I am so done with that life.” And like yeah she hadn’t admitted her past to the others yet so I understand she had to play it cool- but ideally we’d get something a little more emotional between them, in a private moment. Or even something between them that the other heroes didn’t understand. Or y’know. Anything at all. :P

Thoughts, opinions, disagreements, anyone? :V

Also I might make a follow-up to this because I feel like I had more to say but it’s getting late; still, I wanted to type it up while it was on my mind. 

I really love my goth toothy girl no matter what

Be free and evil forever, perfect being

[penultimate-step]

JJK S2 Livewatch: Eps 8-12

Hello, everybody! Sorry for taking so long to continue this live reaction. Since this is the part where the fights start in earnest, I had a lot less to say about the show's specifics and more general rambling thoughts I had as watching. It made me unsure about how to write this part up, and I ended up taking way longer than I should have (I watched these eps weeks ago!) Not sure if this will make the livewatch more or less entertaining to read along. But at this point I am going to post and hope for the best. Hope nobody is disappointed.

So, following up the end of the last ep, Gojo is called out to the danger zone. It's emphasized how much he's the one guy who matters and can do anything here. Which does kind of make me have thoughts about the worldbuilding.

Ok, so, what is the size of the jujutsu world, exactly?

Between Gojo and Tengen, we have multiple individuals who apparently single handedly hold the jujutsu world on their shoulders. That is so many points of failure, so many points where things could just go catastrophically wrong at any moment, presumably dooming the world. I know that this is primarily in order to place the plot focus on the important people. but it feels less like the jujutsu world is an institution or a world on its own, and more like a small club. Which could be fine, but its established that curses appear constantly, all over the world. It's hard to believe that a group small enough to need a handful of people to hold critical roles could cover the whole nation We know there are only 2 jujutsu schools in japan, and its unknown how many elsewhere but presumably an equivalent amount. We've seen most of the students at the school competition arc, and there were less than a dozen altogether. So....what's going on here? It just seems kind of arbitrary, and makes the world feel more constructed - which, of course, it is, being a fictional world, but generally we prefer when the guiding hand of the author is less obtrusive.

Some comparisons that can be made are to Naruto, the manga which I am almost certain is JJK's biggest inspiration, and to Chainsaw Man, a contemporary peer. Naruto's worldbuilding is large and sprawling, with plenty of named organizations, locations, and events offscreen. out of universe info books and spinoffs help add detail to this, but aren't necessary. There, it is believable that any given character exists in the context of the world because the world exists as background. in contrast, chainsaw man shares a much tighter focus with jjk. much less exacting detail, minor characters, etc; a greater focus on a small cast. There is no greater detail, readers know nothing about the structure of hell, the goings-on in the US or USSR, or even other divisions and areas in japan. but there is enough there to maintain an illusion that the world exists - mentions of foreign countries, occasional shots of hunters or political leaders. Sure, it's not the same as actually detailing in the world, but there's no need to go that far - enough has been sketched in that the readers can imagine the characters getting on a plane and flying to another country, even if they don't have any details about the destination, it feels like they exist in a real world with real places that the camera just doesn't turn to.

This might seem like I'm being overly harsh to the setting. it is clearly an intentional choice to have Gojo be the lynchpin of the world, there's nothing inherently wrong with it. But as someone who loves urban fantasy as a setting, it does sometimes bother me when I feel like the world exists only for the convenience of the main cast. It's a world close enough to our own that I feel like it should make sense.

Anyway, that's enough of that. Moving on to actually talking about the events of the episodes. I did warn you at the start that I had less to say about this set, though.

The fight between Yuuji and the locust curse isn't a bad fight to reintroduce us to the main protagonist. It's smoothly animated, outside some hiccups when jumping through walls, and the fact that both fighters use fully physical techniques made the whole thing seem very even and straightforward.

It's outshone completely by the Gojo vs villain gang battle at the end of 8 and through 9, though. I love when hidden world fantasy type settings use the clash between the normal world and the fantastical, setting these fights in a crowded city subway was a cool enough idea already, but the villain plan to use ordinary citizens to box gojo in, the use of trains in the battle, all hammered it in. the way the battle goes on around them while they can't even see most of it is interesting.

The almost wild, ruthless way Gojo speaks and fights in this battle make it clear he's been pushed very far. Between this and the flashback eps, S2 hasn't been shy about showing Gojo struggling and on the edge, a stark contrast to the way he was essentially the plot device "I win" button in his season 1 appearances. Where many of his memorable moments then had him floating at a distance to his opponents, untouchable as his technique, this fight is brutally physical. The moment he grabs at Hanami's branches was visceral. I was actually really surprised to see Hanami die. When he had Hanami against the wall, I started saying out loud "You know, the ruthlessly strategic thing to do here would be go for the killing blow on the weakened enemy. I just know Hanami is going to come back and cause trouble in future arcs. But it makes sense the author wouldn't want to waste a villain with so much buildup like that." And then he actually did kill him. Okay! Message received, Gege! I'll stay on my toes a bit more!

Also, as an aside (much as the show does,) I really liked the villain interludes. Seeing them messing around playing games in their free time did a lot to add to their characterization, even if it was just a way to exposit their plans to the audience.

While I'm giving praise, the sound design and music team did a great job. There's so much that wordlessly conveys the emotions going on mid-scene without having to stop and actually demonstrate them. the ominous overlay on the villains, the frenetic piano as gojo rushes to use his domain, and the most evocative of all, the soft and emotional tunes of shock when Gojo sees Geto again.

Also, this is the part where I have to embarrassedly admit that I was already spoiled on present day geto being fake. Rather, I was so spoiled that I assumed it wasn't a spoiler and was revealed in S1, until seeing the big reveal scene made me realize someone must have told me about this years ago. Whoops. Apologies if any of my followers were waiting for my reaction to that bit :(

Ep 10 is mostly a bridge and setup for the next portion, but I do have some brief thoughts on the new characters to touch on before moving on. The drinking old man is not endearing himself to me with his flippancy, the curse user with the hand sword from season 1 is back, and still kind of annoying whenever he's on screen. The unnamed white-haired girl with him seems cool though. also, this may be kind of a late moment to say this, but I really do like mahito as a character. Some of his transfiguration stunts were genuinely unsettling, and the way he alternates between that kind of cruelty and his general playful attitude makes him pretty fun to have on screen. He's far and away my favorite of the present day villains.

Skipping ahead to the fights in eps 11 and 12. The montage of murders by the curse users actually disgusted me. Which is kind of funny to contrast with the appearance and fighting style of the man who fights Yuuji and Megumi in this episode. His face and movements are different than most of the cast, reminding me more of some kind of demonic looney tunes character, jumping around and letting hits bounce off him. The fight is a cool showcase of 10 shadows, as well as giving some fun interactions between Yuuji and Megumi.

Actually, as I look back on it, I'm somewhat more impressed by this bit than I was as I was actually watching. None of the individual moments are super impressive or thought provoking, but as I come in to write down thoughts I realize that this two episode span seamlessly transitions between 4 different fights, done well enough that I didn't see it as an interruption, and only realized while writing this about it afterwards.

I don't want to dwell too much on the Nobara and Nanami vs hand guy fight, because that guys icks me out. Mei Mei's fight is mostly offscreen, but I do have a meme about it, because I cannot stop my brain from making unfortunate connections. The fight between the masked sorcerer (I don't remember if we got his name?) and the pair on the rooftop, though. It starts pretty slow - I don't think either of their powers or the way they use them are very interesting - but things tick up immediately when Toji shows up. Just like in the flashback arc, he just grabs the attention in every scene he's in, an

While I'm on the topic, one thing I noticed is how efficient the flashback arc was. Pretty much every element from there makes a direct return now, not even 10 episodes after the fact. Geto and Toji are shown off in the past right in time for them to be introduced in the main plot, not wasted elements. Not sure if this is a good or bad thing but it did feel noticeable. Possibly this ties back to the stuff I was talking about at the start of this, where JJK keeps making the tradeoff of telling a tighter and more focused story while cutting lose any elements that could be seen as extraneous, for better or for worse.

Anyway, that wraps up that watch session. It was pretty good, I didn't enjoy it as much as I liked eps 1-5, but much more than I liked 6-7. as a whole I think I can start to calibrate my expectations for how good this seasons is going to be now, very well executed but much more straightforward than that first arc would suggest. Less exploration of world and characters, more cool fights and action scenes.

I feel like I said a lot without actually saying very much, I worry that this was almost entirely recap of things any watcher knows already. I'll try and write the next section much faster, and hopefully I'll have more interesting things to say about that one.

[indeedcaptain]

Spirktober 2023, days 16 and 17: Public + Ritual

My brain is back online, for the most part, so now I'm working back through the days I missed. I hope that it's okay that I'm combining two. This was a fun one to write even if I did put some interesting queries into my search history. I hope you enjoy!

Also posted on AO3 here!

Warnings: explicit sex (in the form of fellatio)

☆☆☆

Kirk should have known that something was off when he informed the Undran diplomatic corps that dancing was frequently done with big groups of people or switching partners after songs ended, and they all tittered behind their large decorative fans.

He shot a look to Uhura, questioning if he had committed some social faux pas, but she tapped a finger against her lip and looked contemplative, which was not her standard expression for, “You goofed,” so he thought he was in the clear. 

“What is dancing like for your people?” He turned to the head Undran: a tall, muscular person of indeterminate sex, standing next to someone who looked nearly identical but had been identified as their spouse. He had learned that day that they were a highly physical people. Their cities had been built in the root systems of the enormous trees that grew nearly a mile tall on the surface of their planet, Cartix III, and moving through the passageways required much climbing and ducking until they reached the larger central halls. Uhura had informed him, after they made first contact, that dance was highly important to them, and that they may be asked to participate in performances. 

That didn’t bother Kirk, but the leader of the Undrans skated their fingers over their spouse’s shoulder and said, “Once you are coupled, you dance with no one else.” Their spouse interlocked their fingers together before releasing their hand. Kirk saw Uhura tilt her head to one side, like she was concentrating on listening to something. She tapped a button on her padd. Was she manually overriding the universal translator? For what?

“We would be honored if you would show us how your people dance, Captain Kirk,” the head Undran said. “We will show you how we do it, we will break our evening fast, and then you can perform as well. With whom would you dance?” 

“That sounds just wonderful,” he said. When they were off duty, Spock was his preferred dance partner, first and always, but he didn’t think his lover would enjoy being the center of attention. He would prefer to watch, and analyze, and then keep Kirk up late into the night describing his observations, among other things. “I’ll dance with anyone in the crew,” he said, and the Undrans again hid their faces behind their fans. “Lieutenant Uhura?” 

“Yes, Captain?” She was distracted. 

“Will you dance with me this evening?” 

As he spoke, her face paled, and she looked between Kirk, Spock, and the Undrans. “Oh,” she said, uncertain. “As you wish, captain.” 

Kirk frowned at her. Spock raised one eyebrow at the uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm. Uhura was a wonderful dancer, and had taught most of the crew to swing dance over the course of the previous four years. She said, “I just think there are others you would rather dance with.” 

The Undrans looked between each other, some smirking, some with wide eyes. Uhura turned to address them. “Thank you for inviting us here! I believe we may require water and rest before the performance. May we retire?” 

“Of course,” the Undran in charge of hospitality said. “Follow me.” Kirk tried to catch Uhura’s eye as she passed, but she stepped past him and Spock to trail behind the Undran in front and speak to them in a low voice. Kirk looked to Spock, who just made the facial expression that was as close as the Vulcan got to “hell if I know.” 

The Undran led them to a warren of rooms within the root system near the great gathering hall where they had been received. 

“Forgive us. The complexities of your partner system escape us, so we have simply provided the largest grouping of rooms we could provide. Please let us know if there is something that would suit you better.” The Undran inclined their head and then closed the door behind them. Kirk turned to Uhura and planted his hands on his hips.

“Lieutenant Uhura, care to explain yourself?” 

She covered her face with her hands for a moment before recovering her professionalism. “Captain, the universal translator is wrong. They use metaphor differently than we do --- it’s a known translation glitch. They think you sleep with the entire crew and they’ve asked you to demonstrate how the Federation has sex after dinner tonight.” 

Kirk couldn’t help it. He laughed. Then he saw Uhura and Spock’s solemnity and he stopped laughing. He schooled his face into neutrality and settled into parade rest. “Another unfortunate blow to my reputation,” he said. “Can we refuse without dealing grievous injury to our relations with them?”

“I’m not sure, but likely no, Captain,” Uhura said, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. The three security guards they’d brought down were studiously looking elsewhere. “Sex -- dancing -- is important to them for symbolic reasons. It’s not that they’re strictly monogamous, per se, they do have polyamory, but once those bonds are forged, that’s it. They are highly unlikely to take others except in cases of violence between partners or death.” 

“Ah,” he said. Much like Vulcans, he thought to himself, and looked sidelong at Spock. Spock was perfectly neutral, hands behind his back --- which meant he was thinking deeply and rapidly, and Kirk had cause to worry. 

“Excuse us for a moment, please,” he said to Uhura, and took Spock by the elbow and led him away from the central room into one of the adjoining ones. He closed the door between them and the rest of the team. 

“I never would have agreed to this if I had realized,” Kirk said immediately. He squeezed Spock’s elbow and released him. 

“I am aware, captain,” Spock said. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I do not readily see a way to gracefully rescind the offer, given that the fault lies with us for assuring them our technology would negate the need for a translator.” 

Kirk winced. Spock crossed his arms, tapping one long finger against his lips.

“I don’t want to--- dance--- with anyone but you. You know that. But I also won’t make you have public sex for the sake of the mission, Spock.” Spock’s finger continued its rhythm, and Kirk had to drag his eyes away from it. 

“Are you opposed to public fornication, captain?” 

“I---,” Kirk started, shifting on his feet, and then paused. “Wait, why?” 

“I am simply considering the most logical course of action. The success of this mission is critical to the Federation’s continued presence in this solar system. Sex, regardless of how they describe it, is important to them, and they have asked us to participate. Are you opposed to participating?” 

Kirk crossed his arms. He pictured it: himself, and preferably Spock, doing some of his favorite activities on a raised platform in the middle of a crowd of strangers. They would be watched by people who didn’t know them as captain and commander, as Starfleet’s prized toys, but only as partners; people who would know nothing about them but the way that they knew and loved each other. His brain told him, That is inappropriate behavior, but the spark of arousal in his stomach and groin did not care about propriety. But then he thought about having to do any of that with someone who wasn’t Spock, and the arousal died immediately. 

He met Spock’s eyes. “I don’t find the idea… repulsive, if that’s what you’re asking.” He blushed slightly under Spock’s far-too-perceptive gaze: there was no way the Vulcan’s keen attunement to his emotions hadn’t picked up the transition from vaguely curious to interested. “But, Spock, I won’t do it without you. We can ask if there’s another couple on the ship who would do it.” 

“But you are interested in it,” Spock said softly. Kirk stepped towards him, wrapping his hands around both biceps. 

“But you’re not,” Kirk said. Spock stared over his shoulder for a second longer. When Spock met his gaze, though, he did not see trepidation but curiosity, and the streak of possessiveness that always made Kirk’s knees weak and dick hard even as he pretended to chafe against it. Spock raised one hand and lightly dragged the knuckle of his bent pointer finger against Kirk’s cheek and tilted his head. The changed angle transformed him from Kirk’s familiar lover to something more alien, something inhuman and feral. 

“That is a reasonable assumption,” Spock said, and he slid his hand back to thread his fingers through Kirk’s hair. “And it is true, for some things. I find that I am… unwilling to show my own arousal, my own loss of control, to individuals who are not yourself.” He tugged Kirk’s head back and gently pressed a kiss to one of the tendons in his neck. “I find that I do not mind if we show them yours.”

“Oh,” Kirk breathed, as Spock skated his mouth to his jawline and kissed him again. 

“Especially if it is by my hands,” Spock said, and the growl in his voice made Kirk shiver. “Do you want to participate?” 

“Okay,” Kirk said immediately, critical thinking skills fleeing at Spock’s consent. “Yes. However you had in mind.” Spock kissed him again before stepping back, and in less than a second he had once again become Kirk’s first officer. 

“I believe I shall inform the Undrans, with Lieutenant Uhura, that there was a miscommunication, and that you will be performing with me. I will ask them to show me the space and tell them what I require.” Spock was once again the consummate professional, even if what he was saying was something Kirk hadn’t even considered to include in his wildest fantasies. “Questions or comments, captain?” 

“Yes, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said intelligently. “Sounds like a plan.” Then Spock turned from him and swept back into the main room to find Uhura. 

Good lord. He was going to have to write a mission report about this?

☆☆☆

Kirk, Spock, Uhura, and the security complement entered the grand meeting hall four hours later, guided by the Undrans from before. Their leader and their spouse --- Kirk still couldn’t determine gender and wasn’t about to guess --- were called Carthan and Mali, and their hospitality guide was called Bello. But all thoughts of gender and their species fled from Kirk’s mind as they were led through the enormous hall. It was built beneath an enormous tree, all the soil painstakingly moved over the course of years or centuries to create an almost entirely round and smooth area. The roots were visible in the walls and arched up to the ceiling above, and lights were tied to the bark in a way that did not damage the tree or inhibit its growth. The room was set up like an amphitheatre: there were arcs of round tables, with seats all facing a raised platform at the end of the room. Kirk swallowed hard to realize that he would be standing up there later this evening. Or laying. Or kneeling? His eyes flicked to Spock, who was, as usual, inscrutable. 

Spock noticed his attention and dropped back to walk beside him. “Captain,” he said, inclining his head. 

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk murmured. “How were your errands?” 

“Successful, captain,” he said. “All is arranged. They were relieved and humored to know that your breadth of dance partners was a misunderstanding on our part. I believe they were starting to think that they did not share much in common with the Federation. But they were very accommodating of my requests.” 

“Very good, Mr. Spock. This mission may yet owe its success to you.” Kirk looked at him and dropped his voice lower. “Any hints on what I may expect this evening?” 

“I believe you said that whatever I had in mind would suffice, captain.” Spock was teasing him. Unbelievable. Whoever said that Vulcans were exceedingly serious people had never known one for more than a day. “Would you like a hint?” 

“Yes,” Kirk said immediately. Spock thought as they were led to a table near the front by Bello. He leaned into Kirk’s ear as they were seated. 

“They will be able to see every emotion upon your face. But they will not see mine.” 

Kirk crossed his legs to hide the beginnings of his erection. 

☆☆☆

The way that the Undrans made love was nothing short of mesmerizing. Sex, for them, was as intricate and choreographed as a dance would be on Earth, and Kirk thought that the universal translator could perhaps be forgiven for mixing the two concepts up. Carthan and Mali circled each other, eyes locked on each other, before they grasped hands and swung each other in increasingly complex and narrowing circles until one--- and by this point Kirk had lost track of who was who, as they had both shed the trappings of status until they were bare, and nearly identical--- straddled the other on the raised platform. Their genitals were somewhat of a mystery to him, enclosed within folds not unlike labia but infinitely more prehensile. He could not tell, even from so close up, what was occurring, but he certainly did not miss as they approached and reached climax together. Their synchronicity reminded him, actually, of when he and Spock melded during sex. When he took Spock’s hand beneath the table, he thought that Spock had thought the same. 

When they stood together, clasped hands, and bowed, the audience did not clap. Instead, they stood as one and bowed in return. Then Carthan and Mali departed and an Undran wearing an apron appeared on the stage, describing what meal they had prepared for their honored interstellar guests. Kirk blinked at the shift in tone, but only he and his crew seemed unprepared for it. 

“That was… something,” he said to Uhura, but she was still staring at the stage. 

“Did you hear what they were saying to each other?” She asked. 

“What? No,” he said. “Outside of the… the obvious.” 

“At the beginning. During their foreplay. They were affirming each other, it sounded like. Reminding each other of shared memories and what they were doing, and why.” She leaned back and wiped a single tear away. “It was quite lovely, actually.” 

“I would like to remind you that you are both allowed and encouraged to not watch our half of the performance,” Kirk said. “It would be my particular preference that you not cry, either, Lieutenant.” 

“And I will remind you, captain, that half the crew saw you get drunk at last year’s holiday party and try to jump Spock in the hallway before he carried you home, so forgive me if I’m not absolutely shocked by the idea that you have intercourse.” 

“That was one time,” Kirk muttered. But Spock, that absolute traitor, said, “Captain, there was also the planet with the pollen---”

“Impossible! All of you! To the brig for subordination!” 

☆☆☆

They stood at the edge of the little raised stage at the front of the hall, and nerves clenched Kirk’s stomach as he looked out over the number of people who were watching them. 

“I didn’t know there would be so many,” he muttered to Spock. He squeezed Spock’s hand, and Spock rubbed a reassuring thumb over the back of his hand. 

“You can revoke your consent at any time, captain,” Spock murmured to him. “Always.” Kirk leaned into him. 

“I think I still want this,” he said. “But I’m nervous now.” But then Carthan stepped off the stage, having finished whatever introduction they gave for them, and gestured to them. 

“I will take care of you, ashayam,” Spock said. “If you’re sure.” 

Kirk steeled himself and, instead of responding, stepped out onto the stage. 

The lights were not as bright as they had seemed from the side. Instead, they washed out everything that was not the ground immediately in front of the stage. The crowd vanished from his sight; his only awareness of them now was the shifting of fabric and cloth, the gentle clink of clayware against the tables, the fluttering of their customary fans. All he could see was Spock, standing on the stage with him. 

“I think that’s your line, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and Spock stepped into his personal space. Kirk tilted his head up to maintain eye contact, and Spock lifted both hands to frame his face, sliding his long fingers into his hair. Kirk let his eyes close as Spock closed the distance between them in a kiss. 

Kirk could feel Spock reading his emotions, gauging if Kirk still wanted this, and after a moment of adjustment, after three years of carefully avoiding public displays of affection, Kirk opened his mouth to him. At the encouragement, Spock swept in: not domineering, as he could be, but certainly not gentle. He kissed possessively, and had since the very first time: he used tongue and teeth and lips to map Kirk’s mouth, kissing until Kirk’s mouth was puffy and bruised. 

He threaded his arms around Spock’s neck, coming onto his toes to lean against Spock, and Spock wrapped one arm around his waist to counterbalance. He slipped a hand beneath the hem of Kirk’s shirt and splayed it against his back. The cool air rushed against the strip of skin now exposed, and Kirk shivered to realize that everyone in the audience could see his back, the skin and scars and muscle and fat and bone. His ardor cooled for a split second before his brain adjusted the mental image. They weren’t just seeing Kirk’s body. They were seeing Spock’s hand against him, dimpling his skin with the strength of his fingers, splaying nearly from tailbone to ribcage. The engine of his desire roared to life as he reframed what they were seeing: it wasn’t about him. It was about what Spock did to him, was doing to him. It was about what he allowed Spock to have, that he had refused to give to anyone else before him: his heart as well as his body, his mind and soul alongside his skin and bones. 

He felt Spock’s wry half-smile against his lips as his dick took a firmer interest in the proceedings. Kirk slid his fingers into Spock’s hair and pulled, breaking the connection of their lips, before he licked the tip of Spock’s ear and breathed out against it. Spock shivered against him, and when he met Kirk’s gaze lust had blown his pupils wide. Spock pressed his hand harder against Kirk’s back, reminding him, I feel what you feel. Kirk pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “What did you intend to do to me?” 

Spock whispered back, “I intended to press you against this wall, kneel before you, and take you into my mouth.” Oh, holy shit. He pulled back and assessed Kirk’s expression. “Does that meet the parameters we established?” 

Kirk nodded. Spock slid both hands under Kirk’s tunic and gently pulled it up over his head, kissing along his collarbone after it was revealed. He worried the edge of Spock’s tunic in his own hand, but Spock shook his head no. Good god, Kirk realized. He is going to be fully clothed while I am naked and then he is going to blow me on stage. Spock pressed one hand to his chest, fingertip dangerously close to his nipple, and pushed him backwards until his back was against the wall. Spock followed him, head bent to bite the sensitive skin of his neck and suck bruises into it. His hands roamed over Kirk’s chest, flicking and pinching and soothing, until Kirk’s head was tipped back against the wall and he was moaning aloud. Spock adjusted his stance to bring his thigh between Kirk’s, and he ground against the hard muscle gratefully. He found that he had twisted his hand into Spock’s hair and clenched it so tightly that his fingers were going numb, and he released it to scratch down his back instead. 

Spock trailed his fingers down Kirk’s chest and rested them at the tie of his trousers. “May I?” he asked, and kissed one of the bruises he had left. 

“Yes, please,” Kirk said, and he dropped his head back again, mouth opening as Spock pulled his trousers open and down. I should have taken off my boots first, he thought, delirious with desire, until Spock kissed the head of his dick and he stopped thinking altogether. He gave no thought to the audience any longer, just to the blessed pressure of one of Spock’s hands against his thigh, the other pressed against his abdomen, and the warmth of his mouth and lips around his dick. He knew that he was gasping and keening and moaning, but the only thing he could hear was Spock’s breathing, growing rapidly unsteadier as orgasm approached, and the slick wet noises of his mouth sliding on and off. 

“Spock, please,” he gasped, trying to warn him, but Spock did not cease. 

Two things pushed Kirk over the edge. The first was the spark of psychic energy that arced between them when Kirk pulled Spock’s hand off his stomach and threaded their fingers together. He wasn’t sure when it had gone from something he did for Spock to a necessity for him too, but he rarely came without their hands intertwined anymore. The second was that Spock released Kirk’s thigh and reached between his legs, dragging one finger along his perineum before cupping his balls. 

Kirk thrust forward into Spock’s mouth, crying out as he came hard. Spock’s hands had pinned his hips to the wall, keeping him from sliding into a puddle on the ground, and Spock gently pulled his mouth away from Kirk, swallowing before pressing a kiss to the skin at his hipbone. They rested there for a moment, chests heaving, Kirk’s head back against the wall, Spock’s head bowed against his thigh. Then, from his knees, Spock carefully pulled his boxers and trousers back up, tying them securely, before standing and retrieving Kirk’s shirt and pulling it lovingly over his head, threading his arms back through the sleeves. Kirk’s brain came back online sometime during this process, and when he dazedly met Spock’s eyes and saw Spock’s slight, satisfied smile, he grinned back. In the post-orgasm glow, he felt none of the shame or anxiety that he had half-expected: only the warmth that he felt whenever he was close to Spock, the love and pride that he felt in the Vulcan man before him.

Spock smoothed the fabric of his uniform down over his shoulders, a gesture familiar from every morning when they dressed for the day in their quarters, and Kirk leaned forward and pressed their lips together again. Then Spock pulled him by the hand forward to the edge of the stage --- Oh right, he thought, at least someone is still thinking of the ceremony --- and they bowed. From here, Kirk could see the audience that he had previously forgotten.

He studiously ignored his own crew. But the rest of the audience he let his eyes wander over: some were obvious aroused, the prehensile labia-like organ fluttering, others staring in awe or appreciation, but all of them looked at Spock with a fraction of the respect and trust that he did, and when they stood and bowed to them, deeply, he thought he might understand now why their performances were so important. 

Spock pulled him off the stage, and once they stood again in the darkness he pulled Spock to a standstill and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Spock encircled his waist and they stood there, swaying. Kirk heard Spock breath in the smell of him. All too soon, though, footsteps approached, and they broke apart at Carthan and Mali’s appearance. 

Carthan said, “I do not think we have the words to express the honor you have bestowed upon us this evening. You have shared something beautiful with us.” Then they turned to Spock and bowed again. “We are especially grateful to you, given what you said about your own species’ proclivity for privacy. That you would share what you did with us is a demonstration of trust that we won’t soon forget.” Kirk felt Spock’s surprise through their clasped hands. Carthan bowed again to both of them before departing. Mali turned to depart with them, before turning back.

Eyes sparkling, they said, “Carthan is correct in saying that we are honored that you shared your love with us. I would also like to thank you for another gift.” They glanced back over their shoulder before turning back to them confidentially. “As all genders on Cartix bear the same genitals, and the lilia are so dextrous---” they gestured to the labia-like thing near their stomach--- “we infrequently have cause or desire to innovate. But to apply one’s mouth to erogenous zones…!” They smiled suggestively, bowed once more, and turned to follow Carthan. 

Kirk gaped after them until he turned to his similarly flummoxed partner. 

“Mr. Spock,” he said faintly. “Did we just introduce an entire planet to the idea of cunnilingus?”

“It appears so, captain,” Spock said, and coughed once. “I should like to return in a few years to discover what they do with this information.” 

“Oh, you would?” Kirk said, teasing, as they turned to find their crew. “I’ll find all the voyeuristic planets you want, if that’s what you’re saying.” 

“It depends on the venue, captain. I do not believe theatre-in-the-round would be as conducive to my preferences…”

☆☆☆

[forthedancingandthethriving]

"What if.. I.. gave up!"

"Valeria, what?" Bedelia looks at the rebellion leader, confused. "Why are you saying that?"

"Child soldiers, Bedelia!" Valeria swims over and grips her second-in-command's shoulders. "The empire has child shoulders — they're fucking 15!" The fins on the sides of her face lower. "15..."

Bedelia looks at Valeria with a frown. "I know, but those two are safe with us now. We'll start treating Celeste and see what Lexi knows."

The rebellion leader sighs, closing her eyes. "Yeah, that.. that sounds good." She releases the other's shoulders and looks at her apologetically. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so overworked."

"It's okay!" The SIC shakes her head. She giggles a bit. "Just surprising to see you the nervous one."

Valeria nods. "I know.. It's just.. heartbreaking. Learning the extent of the brainwashing that's been done to these poor children."

Bedelia nods in agreement, but before she can get another word out, a siren is swimming up to them, his eyes wide. "Valeria! Bedelia! You need to head to Ghost's Crag now!"

"Why?" The two are instantly on high alert. "What's happened? Did someone fall in?"

"No!" The siren shakes his head. "I-Its worse! There's a group of people trapped down there!"

○●○

Valeria had never swam faster in her life, with Bedelia right behind her. They soon got to Ghost's Crag, a giant crevice in the ocean floor. It was said to be caused by a fight between Empress Moria and a siren who could shape-shift.

Apparently, their fight lasted for eight days and eight nights, and Moria emerged victorious, and with the infamous Storm Trident in her possession.

She shudders as she remembers the lightning it could summon. The typhoons it made with a single wave.

"Down there!" Bedelia snaps her out of her thoughts, and the two swim further down.

Ghost's Crag was given its name due to the toxic fumes that came from small vents. They were small but numerous. The fumes made you hallucinate, see things that weren't there. Those who lived purely in the sea had evolved to not be affected, but those above land tended to be badly affected.

But people being trapped? How could that even happen?

In a flurry a bubbles, Valeria's weapon appears. She was blessed to have one that changes like the water, and she let's it shift to that of a large war hammer. "Bede, get ready to move and use your whip to grab them!"

"Got it!" Bedelia nods, her whip appearing in a flurry of bubbles as well.

The two dive deeper down, and she can hear voices. Discussing, talking, wondering where they are.

"Hey!" Valeria shouts once she gets to the thinnest rocks. "Hey, can you hear me?"

"Hello?!" A male's voice calls out. "Is someone there!"

"Yes, I'm real!" She assures the voice. "Listen, I'm going to smash this rock in, which is gonna flood in water. You'll need to hold you breath. My friend is going to grab you with her whip to get you guys out as fast as we can, okay?"

After noises of agreement, Valeria swims back. With a low grunt, she swings the hammer, slamming it into the rocky wall. It crumbles like paper, and Bedelia acts quickly, her whip shooting out and wrapping around many wrists.

They begin to swim, swim as fast as they can.

When they breach the surface, Valeria finally gets a good look at them.

And she feels her heart skip a beat because she's sure that she's seen those faces before. But from where? A mural, maybe?

○●○

Lexi prides herself in being very, very sneaky. You don't become a Tigerfish from brute strength alone. No, you sneak and around and figure things out on your own.

The purple octoling peers her head around the doorway, red eyes glancing around. The room she was peering into was large and open air, with what she presumed to be magic, making a dome overhead, keeping the water of the outside out.

In the center, on a pedestal, was a crown. It wasn't anything grand. It was a blackstone crown, floating in a bubble. Two rings of water circled around it, like a protection.

Lexi narrows her eyes. That must be what's keeping their base hidden. With how big this place is, it makes sense.

She looks around with a huff. The room being completely devoid of water surprised her, but she guessed it made sense. Mermaids and sirens could transform to have legs if they so wished.

Sparing one glance back towards the crown, she rushes off. Completely missing the mural in the back, show casing a giant siren wielding the Storm Trident and fighting against what seemed to be a.. younger Moria.

[raissahandeson-blog]

Vulnerable

Well guys, I decided to rewatch The Old Guard and I simply found myself falling in love with all those charming characters.

I always thought that Nile and Andy have such intense chemistry that it would be a sin to have so few stories between the two of them and that was the reason that led me to write this. I confess that most of this story was written via translator, since my knowledge of English is very limited, and this is the first story I've written… So I apologize in advance for the various errors you found here.

Anyway, I think that having said that, I really liked the option of adding color to the sentences and that's why I found it interesting to separate Andy and Nile's lines by color. Nile will have all the dialogues in purple while Andy has red, just because I think they really suit them lol.

This is an art that I simply loved by an incredible artist called Rune, I'll leave the link below so you can check out more of his work. https://www.deviantart.com/rune-arts

The last year has been completely crazy for Nile, ever since his first death on duty in Afghanistan. The discovery of her own immortality, discovering the existence of an army of immortals that she was now a part of, the struggle in the laboratory and Andy's recent mortality, it was all a very radical change.

Her life was turned upside down, having to leave the Marines, her dream of following in her father's footsteps, her family, and gaining a new one made up of dysfunctional but extremely welcoming and loving immortal people.

At first, Nile believed that it would be difficult to fit into that group, after all, everyone there had known each other for centuries and orbited around each other easily. It was surprising when she realized that she didn't need to make an effort to try to be accepted, as she did in the marines, she already had everyone's respect and consideration since the day of the confrontation in Merick's Laboratory when she decided to return to save everyone. .

After the first two crazy weeks they finally had time to settle down and rest, keeping as close to a normal routine as possible. Of course, there were still the physical training and sparring sessions that used to go on until someone ended up with too many broken bones to stand, but it was still pretty close to normal.

Nile realized that each member of his new family played an important role in keeping everyone together.

Nick was the wittiest, always having a funny story or witty joke to make the group laugh.

Joe, in turn, was the one who brought the most empathy and sensitivity to everyone, always being available to be a shoulder to lean on when needed without asking questions or judging.

Nile took on what she believed to be the role of Brooker, obtaining digital information and obtaining false documents. But soon she realized that her importance went beyond that, she was the one who reminded everyone that even the little things were worthy of attention. Small discoveries, gestures, she helped everyone understand that what they did was really worth it.

And Andy in turn was the force that kept everyone standing, no matter how bad things got, no one would dare doubt that it would work if their leader was at the front, paving the way for everyone to continue.

The latter managed to establish herself in a large part of Nile's heart, even though she tried to deny it at first, as time went by and as she lived with her leader, it became increasingly clear that this woman was much more than a lethal warrior. She was a kind, caring woman who, despite carrying enormous emotional baggage, went to great lengths to make them feel loved and protected.

At first Andy seemed convinced of turning Nile into his apprentice, teaching her much of what she knew about weapons and combat, saying that she would need to be prepared in case things got ugly. She never dared to say more than that, but Nile could understand what was behind this urgency to make her fit to fight: Her time was now numbered and when she was no longer here, it would be her apprentice's job to continue maintaining all united and safe. Thinking about this brought sadness to Nile's heart, thinking that at some point she might no longer be with them, the simple idea of losing her in the middle of one of her missions made his stomach tighten. That's why she dove head first into training, trying harder and harder to get better, she wanted to do everything she could to make sure Andy wouldn't fall during the fight, make sure she could shadow her and keep her safe.

It didn't take long for everyone to realize this when the following missions appeared and Nile continued to constantly hover around the warrior Scythian, even in situations where her leader's experience was more than enough to resolve the situation.

Joe and Nick knew it wouldn't take long for Andy to get impatient and confront Nile about all this overprotection. And they were right, after an interception mission in Serbia, when everyone finally reached the safe haven, the Boss then snapped.

-Before anyone leaves for the rooms, we need to talk. We can't continue working with you treating me like a piece of glass that could break at any moment. I said it before and I repeat it, the fact that I'm no longer immortal doesn't change anything, I'm still the boss and I'm still giving the orders. -Andy barks throwing her equipment bag across the room as she heads to the bar next door to get a bottle of gin. Everyone else stops standing around the room in amazement.

-We're not questioning your authority Andy, but it doesn't make sense to put you in the direct line of fire if all 3 of us can do it without major damage. - Nile rationalizes trying to get closer to her.

-To me this seems to go over my authority, I'm the leader here and I've experienced a lot more than you three together. I know what I'm doing, I appreciate your concern, but I was in wars before I was immortal, fighting for my people and my family, and I will continue to do so until my last day. You have no right to try to intervene in this. - Andy plops down on the couch, taking a generous sip of his drink while the rest of the team stares at him in amazement. In a matter of seconds, Nile's expression goes from shock to anger and hurt, making any fear he had about facing the woman in front of him disappear.

-A shit we don't have, we are your family and we care about you. Say what you want but you can't make me watch you kill yourself while I stand by and do nothing. We love you Andy and we're not going to accept this stupid suicidal game you're playing, at least I'm not going to.

This is the boys' cue to lock themselves in their room, they know that dealing with their boss's mortality has not been easy, especially for Nile who seems to have become increasingly close to her. They understand both points of view and know that it is an issue that both women need to resolve between themselves, there is no reason to intervene.

Meanwhile in the room, Andy is surprised by the attitude of the younger woman in front of her, who is now staring at her with eyes blazing with anger and her jaw clenched, demonstrating the strength of her discontent.

-You're just a child Nile, you haven't seen almost anything in life, that's why you keep insisting on that. It's no use, I'm not going to change my position in relation to how we carry out operations and I'm also not going to allow you to continue taking focus away from the mission to ensure my safety. - Andy finally gets up, coming face to face with Nile, who is now breathing heavily.

-You know what, fuck you, I'm not going to change my mind either so if you think you can't handle this, just leave me out. I'd rather be left alone than have to watch you kill yourself. - Nile shouts in front of her before turning around and leaving, slamming the front door with enough force to shake the walls next to it.

Andy throws herself onto the sofa again with a huff while taking another long drink of Gin, she didn't want to be harsh with Nile, but she couldn't bear to see the girl throwing herself in front of all the danger ahead, just to protect her. And if one day, because of one of these distractions, the boys or Nile herself were captured, she would not be able to deal with this guilt anymore, after Quynh she would not be able to lose anyone else, if someone needed to fall, then let it be her.

Yet her heart sank as she remembered the broken expression Nile wore as he left the shelter. It was painful to see the girl like this, even more so because of her, she got used to having the youngest always around, smiling and excited about every little thing, this woke up a side that had been dormant for a long time and it still kept her up constantly at night. Initially she just wanted to be his mentor, teach everything she could in the time she still had and make sure Nile could feel welcome with them.

But somewhere along the way things changed, without realizing it she became closer and the relationship that was supposed to be mentor and mentee became stronger than that. She could remember more than one occasion when she woke up with Nile curled up with her on the couch after a movie or after an intense mission that kept them both up late into the night. It became natural to look for each other to try to calm down and end up sleeping tangled up in some corner of the shelter they were in. The following morning, both separated without further comment on what happened during the night.

She insisted on ignoring this because she knew it wasn't fair to Nile, the young woman still had a lot of time and didn't deserve to have to carry the weight of having already lost someone close to her in such a short period of time. Still, she knew she had been too harsh and shouldn't leave the younger woman tormenting herself with her own thoughts. From what she knew of that girl, she would be imagining at this point that the problem was the fact that Andy thought she was too young to be trusted. Taking the last sip from the bottle she finally stood up and followed her apprentice out the door.

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Nile managed to hold back her tears long enough until she reached the front door, but she collapsed as soon as she crossed the threshold and slammed the door behind her. She couldn't believe how the woman she so admired and cared about could go from being the kindest person she'd ever met to the dumbest person on Earth. Nile imagined the size of the nightmares that accompanied Andy for so many years of wandering around, but still, she refused to accept the indifferent way she treated her own life. Sometimes it seemed like she really wanted to die, thrown into danger without any real need, and how

if the love that others had for her were worthless.

Yes, love, it took Nile a long time to assimilate and accept this new feeling she had for her mentor. But with the growing fear of losing her during a mission, it became clear that there was no reason to continue lying to himself. She remembers clearly when it finally dawned on her that the worry was much more than that.

She always had music as a sunny refuge, a place where she could go and forget about all her problems and sadness. The first time she discovered how comforting this shelter was was when a soldier showed up at her house to deliver the news of her father's death. She cried for hours and every time she tried to sleep, she would start sobbing again. Then she remembered the mp3 that her father had given her as a gift and connected the headphones, from then on, whenever things got difficult, it was in music that she sought solace.

She looked for music when she had to endure being humiliated when joining the navy, she looked for music when she died for the first time and had to see the looks of her fellow soldiers judging her as if she were a freak. She turned to music as she processed the idea that she would truly never see her family again and that the person who would understand her most was in exile for the next 100 years.

Music was always there as a consolation, until Andy came along and changed everything. His refugee became the older woman, even though through conversation or being silent in each other's company, it brought Nile the peace and comfort that music used to provide.

That's when she knew for sure that the group's elder wasn't just someone she wanted to learn to fight with, she was someone she wanted to fight for, to be close to and be able to enjoy every little moment by her side. That's when she realized this was love.

But unfortunately, just as much as Andy managed to calm her down, she also managed to be the one who took him off track. For months, the older woman started to be more careless with herself during missions and adamant about taking extra care like vests and things like that. This was driving the youngest girl crazy, because every day the fear of not being able to be enough to protect her became greater along with the frustration of not being able to change her mind.

Today she simply exploded and I couldn't control my anger when I saw Andy talking like that, it seemed like all the closeness they had had over the last few months didn't exist and the oldest still saw her as just an inexperienced child.

This hurt her more than she would like to admit, so she was tough enough to claim that she would rather not be part of the group than take orders from her and watch her die. In a way she doesn't regret it, but her heart still hurts, imagining what she would do if she really had to move away from the group and especially from her.

Then again she found herself with the clean cell phone that Copley gave her, headphones and her comfort playlist. She was sitting in front of the lake to the east of the house that served as her shelter, watching the movement of the trees and the water while trying to control her own crying, she didn't want to think anymore about all the mess she had gotten herself into. What she wanted most now was to sit there and be able to forget about her own mess for a few hours until she worked up enough courage to return home.

And she let herself be so deeply carried away by the sound that floated through her headphones with her eyes closed, that she didn't notice Andy approaching or sitting next to her, until the heat of her body alerted her to her presence. She opened her eyes quickly in fright until she realized who was next to her and then replaced her expression from astonishment to sadness.

-Hey? -Andy said, sitting next to her, looking at her face, probably swollen from crying a few minutes ago, with a weak smile.

-If you just came to tell me that you'd prefer me not to be on the team, you don't need to try to be nice. Just tell me your decision and I'll follow through with it. -Nile responds defensively, imagining that the woman in front of her just came to tell her that she doesn't trust her enough to continue with the work they do. She turns so she can face Andy fully and see her expression when she finally says what she decided.

-Nile, I don't want to fight anymore and much less do I want you to leave far away. Now you are my family too and I care too much to leave you behind, and I care even more about seeing you taking so much effort to protect me and neglecting your own safety.- At that moment Andy also turns around so he can get a better look at the younger woman, sad to meet his desolate gaze.

-My safety? it is serious? I'm immortal Andy, for God's sake, if there's anyone who can and should put themselves in the line of fire, it's me and the boys. This concern is meaningless, the problem is that I'm the newbie, right? Has all the effort I've been making to prove some value been in vain?

It becomes too much for Andy to continue watching Nile fall deeper and deeper into this pit of guilt and demands. She then holds the youngest by the chin so she can look directly into her eyes and understand what she is talking about.

-You are immortal but you are not immune to being captured, tortured and many other things. It pains me to say this out loud Nile, but I am no longer unbeatable and if that happens, I cannot guarantee that you will be rescued. Remember what happened last time? If it weren't for you, the rest of the team would still be there because I'm not strong enough to save everyone, and after Quynh I can't lose anyone else, and I don't want to lose you. I'd rather my death ensure everyone's safety than put you at risk.- Andy says each word without looking away from Nile, trying to convey all her vulnerability and fear, trying to make her understand.

-Not so strong? Andy, you are the most badass woman to have walked this Earth, immortal or not. Your strength is beyond physics, it comes from within, it is what keeps us firm and hopeful for better days, you are the pillar of who we are and we won't make it without you, not if you decide to give up. I can't do this without you and I don't want to, all I ask is that you be more careful, whether it's wearing a vest, or letting us help, we're a team and there's no reason to do everything alone.

These words seem to disarm Andy, who reduces the rest of the distance between their faces and captures Nile's lips with hers in a chaotic and intense kiss. She pours all her feelings into this and Nile realizes how difficult it had been for the older woman to deal with all of this, her appreciation for her was obvious and having to deal with this just when her mortality appears, doesn't seem easy at all.

She is taken out of her reverie when Andy's tongue asks for passage, which she willingly gives in to, the kiss becomes increasingly involved and needy and without realizing it, she is grabbing her waist wanting to bring her closer. She always imagined that Andy would be a good kisser, but between imagining and being able to experience it, there was a scary difference, even more so when her hands start to roam the younger girl's body, squeezing and trying to pull her towards her.

They continue like this for what seems like hours until air is needed and Nile moves away, their foreheads continue to touch but it's enough for both of them to catch their breath as they look at each other. Andy looks at her affectionately while stroking the side of her face tenderly, even with the feeling that the best thing would be to spare Nile from all the pain that may come along with this new feeling, she is convinced that she doesn't need to be so rational and that the woman in front of her, despite her young age, is intelligent enough to decide for herself.

-I still think this could hurt you girl, but I don't have the right to decide that for you, but still, I need to remind you, I will die, it may not be today or tomorrow, but it will happen. And I need you to make sure you can follow through with this?

-I know that, but you're worth the risk. - Nile replied with a smile - All I want is to enjoy this time we still have, be it ten years or half a century. I also need your guarantee that you will take more care, for me… can you promise me that?

-Half a century? I think we're being optimistic here, I'm sure when I start to get all wrinkled you'll change your mind - Andy responds making them both laugh - But ok, I promise to try, for us.

Then Nile kisses her again, this time trying to convey all the feeling present at that moment, a mix of joy and love, which she never dreamed that one day she would finally be able to experience. They spend the rest of the afternoon like this, cuddling and kissing, sitting together by the lake as they watch the sun set and the night come to life, revealing a sky full of stars.

Hours later they finally return to the house, it is quiet and dark, the boys are probably in the bedroom sleeping, and they decide to do the same. Finally, the tiredness of the mission and all that discussion reached them, and they threw themselves onto the sofa and let sleep take them to a peaceful night's sleep, like so many others who shared in the same way. This time when they wake up, there will be no need to pretend to forget what they shared that afternoon, this time they have the hope and power to write their story together.

​

[ciaossu-imagines]

can I get one large fries and uuuum Eric Surt from K Project reuniting with a sort of childhood friend he had at his abusive group, but both got away? (He thanks to Homra and they actually managed to run away?)

Or is that too specific and weird?

That’s not too specific or weird at all, my lovely anon! I actually really enjoy how specific it is and it’s a really fascinating scenario that I had fun thinking about! I hope you’ll enjoy the headcanons, and just saying, but the way you worded the first part of your message made me laugh!

I feel like the two of them would have been among the youngest in Hikawa. And, even if his friend hadn’t been an orphan like Eric was, I feel the gang still would have treated them rather unkindly and they would have suffered some abuse at the hands of the gang’s higher-ups and possibly even by their own parents. They were another person who Hikawa used as fodder for their own petty wars because, to the gang, these children hadn’t earned their place in the gang and thus they didn’t deserve the same level of respect or even to really be thought of as human beings so the gang members treated them as dogs instead, at least until such point as they would have proved their actual use and provided a reason to be thought of as one of the actual gang members. Eric and his friend would have had to earn their place in Hikawa and the lengths the gang goes to make them earn those places are nightmarish.

Eric didn’t trust anyone while living with Hikawa so I don’t think the childhood friendship between the two would have been super close but there was still a sort of friendship there. They often had to work together and, honestly, it was strangely comforting to have someone else who knew what they were going through and who could understand their situation. Eric still would have been irritable and would have been harsh in his words to them but that person was probably the closest he had to someone he could rely on in Hikawa, though with how the gang worked, the gang’s leaders would have found it funny to keep trying to pit the two against each other so complete trust was impossible.

I feel Eric’s friend got away first, honestly, and their disappearing and the gang being completely unable to track them down probably made the gang’s actions towards Eric even more brutal and probably set about the actual events that led to Eric becoming a part of HOMRA. Eric does feel abandoned by them and kind of angry with them for not taking him with them, but at the same time, he’s a little glad they got away and he doesn’t begrudge them for taking the opportunity to leave.

Let’s be real here…every last shred of Hikawa was obliterated in the wake of Eric joining HOMRA. Even their name is destroyed because people will know not to ever speak of them, to pretend like the gang had never existed. And that complete absence of the gang, that wiping them from the world, allows not only Eric his freedom to build a new future with HOMRA, but it means that his friend no longer has to hide in fear of being discovered by the gang and can start to build a more public life for themselves.

It’s while his friend is working on building that new life of theirs that they’ll run into Eric, completely by chance. He’s really shocked and honestly a little scared to see them. He knew they were never a big fan of Hikawa and he knew what the gang did to his friend and that they had left prior to the destruction of the gang but at the same time, HOMRA had destroyed the only semblance of a family, and possibly even his friend’s actual biological family. He’s not sure if you’re there for revenge or not, because it is a possibility. He’s going to be on high alert for the first little while, especially since he knows that they were taught to lie as children and his friend had always been better at that then he was.

His friend would have to reassure him that they were not out for revenge and they’d have to prove it to him, giving him time to trust them. They’d have to take the first steps into rebuilding any kind of friendship with Eric.

That being said, even while he’s learning to trust his old friend and while he’s learning to be sure about their motives, Eric does think about them a lot and he does worry about them. He knows he’s been really lucky to find HOMRA after his life with the gang and he wonders if his friend has been so lucky, how they’re living, what they’re doing…he doesn’t ever really say anything to show his worry but those that know him will kind of easily guess what he’s feeling.

If his friend still hadn’t found a safety net, and once he could trust them, I do feel like he’d maybe want to bring them into HOMRA. He’d still be distant with them at first and would never lose his gruffness completely, and it would take a lot of time for him to get over the abandonment issues they kind of left him feeling when they disappeared, but he still wouldn’t feel right if he was the only one who discovered a safe place to live after their shared childhood.