#im mobile so i feel responsible but im Awake

[strwbrryeyes]

re: headcanon suggestions !

what do tha boys do when they're tired but can't sleep? do they stare at the ceiling or spiral into thought or get up and do something else until an ungodly hour?

hope sleep finds you soon nini </3

- ada ♡

𖦹°｡⋆ haikyuu boys when they can't sleep

⟡ cw: none

⟡ a/n: LOL i just realized i accidentally deleted the post asking for suggestions </3 im so tired idk what im doing anymore but yay omg i'll do this.

these are all i could come up with lol

would stare at the ceiling thinking it's the best option but actually slowly loses their mind.

these boys would be responsible and think that if they were to do anything else then yeah, they'd fully be awake. especially if they were to go on their phone because you know blue light and all. they wouldn't even get out of bed to stretch or anything because they're worried that they'd get a second wind and immediately not feel sleepy anymore. unfortunately for them, they still aren't falling asleep and are starting to go insane because they're so bored but so tired but are still holding on until they fall asleep. next thing they know, the birds are chirping and the sun is rising. they end up screaming into their pillow before getting ready for the long day ahead of them.

- ushijima, daichi, suga, iwaizumi, aran, kita, sakusa, kyotani

would start thinking about things that happened years ago

these boys would want to be part of the ceiling group but they end up cringing at everything because their brains decided to remind them of something they did years ago. all they can do is continuously face palm every time a new embarrassing memory pops into their mind. like why did he cry and throw a tantrum first year of high school when their crush politely rejected them? 'oh remember when you tripped in front of the whole school during a fire drill because you wanted to go see your friend?'. thinking about something that wasn't even his fault too like when a kid threw up on him in kindergarten. anything under the sun to make this man feel embarrassed enough that he practically forces himself to sleep as best as he can.

- osamu, asahi, kindaichi, yamaguchi, kinoshita, akaashi, kageyama, goshiki

would play games on their phones

these boys wouldn't even try to sleep lol. they're immediately go on their phones and play dumb mobile games just to pass the time. it pays off in the end though because guess who has the highest score in the country for subway surfers? that's right this guy right here. they'd also probably download all the papas pizzeria games (yes they would pay for them) but end up getting frustrated because why the fuck did wally give them a 98% on the order station???

- kenma, suna, kunimi, matsukawa, nishinoya, shirabu, semi

have a dance party/pretend concert

these boys like to take their sleeplessness in stride and just throw on some banging music and dance around like nobody's business. they'll even turn on their led lights to simulate a dance club or something! they're having the time of their lives while they sing into a water bottle pretending it's a microphone and pretending that they're on a world tour performing for their adoring fans. they eventually tire themselves out and pass out on the floor.

- bokuto, makki, tsukishima (weird ik but let me have this</3), yamaoto, atsumu, tanaka, tendou

would call a friend

if they can't sleep, neither can their friends. they cannot stand the thought of being so bored in the middle of the night and they've already exhausted all other options so they decide to call up their best friend over and over again until they pick up. doesn't matter if the friend ends up being mad at them they just want company dude. after a few minutes though they'll start to fall asleep and snore loudly into the phone causing the other person to get annoyed and scream into the phone to wake them up and hang up because why call them if you're just gonna fall asleep.

- oikawa, lev, kuroo, hinata, fukunaga, komori, terushima,

[joleneghoul]

BIG TW FOR MENTIONS OF ABUSE AND MEDICAL NEGLECT⚠️

Anyways im awake now. Medical neglect is when someone under the care of a caregiver has their health needs ignored.

Typically, we see this with children, but it can also happen with the disabled who rely on others for support and elders. I will be talking mostly abt the neglect of children here, but know it can apply to others as well depending on the situation.

But MOST IMPORTANTLY, this is done by people with a responsibility to care for the victim.

Some examples of this are:

A parent telling their child they are being dramatic or telling them they are lying when they claim they're sick.

A caregiver telling the person under their care they are "over acting" their condition.

A child breaks a bone, and the parent does not believe it's broken. (Way more common than it should be)

A caregiver/parent refusing to give the person/child under their care the medication they need/that is perscribed.

This is specific, but a parent/caregiver telling someone that extreme unbearable pain during a period is "normal" and refusing to let the person be checked by a doctor.

A caregiver not believing in symptoms like fainting, lightheadedness, migraines, or any sort of invisible symptoms because they did not see it or were not around to see it.

A caregiver leaving a mobility aid out of reach from the person/child who needs it.

Refusing to let your child see a therapist or mental health professional after trauma.

Basically, denying the medical needs of someone under your care for any reason if that person relies on you for thst care.

This is one of the MOST common forms of abuse, yet people will not realize that either what they do is wrong or what they've gone through was not fair to them.

I saw a tiktok the other day that was meant to be "funny" about a parent saying their child lied about their foot being broken but finally took her to the dr to prove the child wrong. The childs foot was broken. How is this at all comical? Why are these things so normalized?

There are so many people, myself included who have had that exact experience.

And this is a trauma that can stick with people their whole lives. Ignoring medical problems can RUIN someone's body, and these problems follow you into adulthood. And then these people as (often disabled) adults are thrust into medical systems that are founded on ableism/mistreatment of the disabled.

If you are a victim of this, i highly recommend therapy if at all possible. There are a lot of options for therapy you can do from home nowadays. It is really helpful to talk out these feelings with a professional, even if you've never spoken to one before.

You deserve help. You are not dramatic for seeking it.

Anyways, sorry for the rant. If you have something to add about this not being true, dont bother, I will block you.

[nxnw]

You were quiet today and i know its my fault. I should do better. I could and i shouldve. Im so sorry im a shitty girlfriend sayang. I know youre probably upset at me or angry at me and idk how to make this better. Idk what i should do and in really scared that you hate me. Im really scared that youre upset or angry at me. Im so so scared.

I called you a little early tonight, around 9:30 pm. I got home around 8 pm. And around 9 pm, i asked you if you had any plans tonight and if i could call you later. You said sure i can call you, you didnt have any plans tonight and youre probably going to bed later. So i settled my things quickly, and i called you. When you answered my call, you sounded a little off. Your room is dark too not like they usually are. Usually you would turn on a little reading lamp that is just bright enough to softly illuminate your face so that i could see you in the dark. But this time, the lamp is off. I thought you were already asleep when i called you but you were playing a mobile game on your phone. I thought oh okay at least i wasnt interrupting him sleeping. I asked about your day and tried to chat with you but you seem different. Its almost as if you difnt want to talk to me. Your responses to my questions were cold and short. I picked up on that. I didnt press too much, i didnt ask more details from you bcs i dont want you to get annoyed at me. I asked one last time if youre okay and you claimed that you were so i said okay. I let you play your game bcs i didnt want to bother you with more questions bcs you didnt seem like you wanted to talk more. I silently scrolled my phone. I was kinda tired from today and as i was scrolling my phone i passed out and fell asleep. But my ears were kind of aware of the noises i heard from my ipad, the noises you were making. Like my eyes are tired, they wont open but my ears are awake. I heard you sighing a lot but otherwise you were very silent. Too silent. I know something is wrong and i know its my fault and i had something to do with it. At around 10 pm, the facetime call dropped and now, its close to 12 pm now, you still havent called me back. I know you were awake bcs i heard you shortly bfr the call dropped. You couldve called me back sometime after the call dropped but you didnt. Maybe you didnt want to bother me bcs i was sleeping. Maybe you were annoyed at me and wanted sometime alone.

Im not sure if the call actually dropped by itself. I would assume it did. Sometimes facetime is crazy and this is not the first time this has happened in all the the times ive used facetime bfr. But i cant help but think of the worst. My brain is going into overdrive thinking about the worst thing. What if he himself ended the call out of bcs he didnt want to stay on the call? What if im annoying him? What if he hates me and it makes him feel angry to see my face?

I would get it tho. I hate me too. I understand if hes angry at me and im going to give him space. All the space he needs. I just dont want him to hate or be upset with me.

Sayang im so so sorry that im so bad at treating you sayang. And if you didnt want to talk to me or see me tonight, i get it. I understand truly i do. Im just gonna give you space. And if youre angry at me and its my fault im so terribly sorry sayang. Please forgive me sayang its my failt and im so so so sorry. I love you sayang and i would do anything to make it up to you. Youre my everything i cant stand the fact of you hating me. It would destroy me if im the cause of your distress or anguish or rage. I want nothing but happiness for you. And if happiness means me not being around you then thats what i’ll do. I’ll distance myself from you and i’ll give all the space you need okay sayang. I’ll be here if you want me and im so sorry sayang. Im so so so sorry if its my fault sayang which im pretty sure it is. Take all the time you need sayang. Im sorry again. Dont worry about me okay. I just want you to be happy sayang. That is all that matters to me. I love you so so so so much and all i want is happiness for you even if it means sacrificing mine. Youve suffered so much in the past, youve gone through a lot. I dont want to add to your stress and sadness sayang. I want to make you happy and i dont ever want to see you sad bcs of something bad that happen in your life sayang especially not if its because of me. Sayang im truly sorry if i made you sad or angry. Im so so sorry sayang i truly am. Its my fault and im so sorry. I admit im a terrible person. Youre sad now and its all my fault and im so sorry. I hope you can forgive me sayang. If you dont forgive me, i get it. I cant even forgive myself bcs how could i? I am such a shitty person i dont deserve love. I dont deserve anything good bcs i cant even keep you from being upset bcs of me. I made you upset and im so sorry. I know its my fault. I hate myself for doing that to you. Im so so sorry sayang.

[expheiriment]

I know valentines day is essentially over but,,,, jason doesnt Know what valentines is when he gets out of the lab and probably spends his first valentines day just giving gifts to everyone he cares about and telling everyone he'll be their valentine and definitely has a bunch of chocolate in his bag and if someone looks alone/doesnt have a valentine he gives them chocolate thank u and goodnight

[galaticrow546]

Breaking news: local artist finally finishes another fic he started and actually tried his best ( also breaking news: i actually write fics, i just dont finish many of them :') )

Anyways here is a little thing i wrote ( quite badly but i tried ) about the Idea of "Dream is small but he still get to keep his memories"

Its so hard to edit the story on Tumblr mobile what ;-;-

Btw i forgot mostly of what happened in OSD so It might be a little strange sorry-

Anyways, OSD belongs to @calcium-cat

Pain, thats all Dream felt for a moment, he twisted and shifted, trying to make the pain go away, even If It was for a while, It was also really dark too, he has no Idea what Night made him drink, but he doesnt feel good.

He felt panic as he noticed his conscience slipping away, as he panicked around, he felt a huge pain going through his entire body as he fainted.

…

After moments, he woke up again, as he slowly got up, he kept hissing at the pain that still jolted through his entire body:

-"Ugh, this sucks" thought the little guardian, "I wonder what Night gave me", as he thought, he opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times before brushing his hands on his face to try and stir himself more awake, but he swears his hands felt...different.

As he opened his eyes, he took a glimpse at his hands, his tiny gloved hands looked smaller than usual, he turned around slowly to find his oversized clothes laying around him, and the clothes he was wearing weirdly looked like the clothes he wore when he was younger, as the realization crept in, Dream slowly realized what just happened, as panic began to grow inside him, he nervously touched his own hand and face while searching for a mirror.

It didnt take long before he found a small, partially broken mirror laying around the room he was in:

-"...It's becoming increasily obvious...I can deny It no longer…"

And, with a tired and defeated breath, Dream spurted out:

-"I am small"

Dream sat back while crossing his arms, how on earth would he even survive here with this size? he needed to come up with a solution fast, before anyone dangerous come-

*click*

Dream's eyes widen at the sound of the door being opened, as he panicked inside, he quickly jumped somewhere to hide, and for now, he needed to be careful to not be spotted.

-"Ugh, now to see how Dream is-"

Night paused, looking at the clothes laying around, It was silent, too silent, he walked over and grabbed a fistfull of Dream's present cape as he began searching for any trace of Dream, but his expression slowly began changing from a calm and neutral face to a worried and panicked one, he moved on from the clothes and began to search around the room, Dream cant be dead right? It was only a magic repressor he gave him after all.

Dream quietly watched from afar, and with a determined face, began to crept closer to Nightmare, ready to jump out and hopefully succeed to escape, a moment passed before Night got a surprise attack from a screaming skeleton toddler, he climbed Night in a rush while he was trying to get Dream out with force, and eventually, the guardian was caught by one of Nightmare's tentacles, as the cyan eye began analizing him, Dream tried to angrily break out of the tentacle's grasp, constantly trying to bite and punch It, It was quickly getting tiring.

Night watched the toddler scream and struggle silently, his face with an serious expression, Dream quickly looked at him angrily and tiredly as he spoke out:

-"Night...I will..ugh...I will break free, let...let me go"

Night listened silently and looked to the side like he was thinking, and with a wide grin, Night answered Dream's request:

-"...no"

Dream gave a tired sigh at the response as the silence between them remained, well, until a particular oreo came in the room in a rush:

-"Night are you ok? I heard screaming-"

Cross paused and stared at the scene, Night holding a toddler that looked like Dream on his tentacles and the toddler looking defeated and tired, It also looked so dirty too, Cross looked at Night silently and confused, Night sighed as he started:

-"Cross, believe It or not, this is Dream...yeah, i know its confusing, and i dont exactly know what happened to him, but trust me, its him"

The toddler tiredly looked up at the ex-royal guard, and shot him a tired but "ready-to-attack" glare, he knew he couldnt actually do much, but he could at least try.

Cross quickly spoke up:

-"...ok? Soooo you have no Idea what happened to him and he is just a toddler now", Night nodded calmly as the toddler looked seriously to the side, at this point, Dream just wanted to sleep, or at least take a nap, and the tentacle had a really tight grip so struggling was quite Impossible.

Night glared at Dream and gently approached him with a wide grin on his face, as Dream looked at him motherfuckerly:

-"awwww, the little kid right here wants to take a nap?" Said Night mockingly.

"No, i dont, let me go Night" spat Dream rudely.

"Not happening little pal, you're staying here until i decide what to do with you" grinned Night maliciously

Dream stayed silent at Night's response, but still kept glaring angrily at Night.

-"anyways, perhaps we should introduce our new pal here to the rest of the team since It might take a while for us to decide what to do, shall we?"

-"yeah, sure"

As Night walked towards the door, Dream looked at Cross with such a serious look that surprised Cross a little, he didnt expect the toddler to suddenly look at him while he follows Night, Cross glared at Dream back, but this only seemed to make Dream look offended, they both kept "fighting" with shooting each other daring and sometimes offensive looks.

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

-"stop hitting me!"

Cross was having a hard time with bathing Dream, it seems that the little guy wouldnt give up so soon, It would be a miracle If he even behaved a little, but everytime Cross tried, Dream kept hitting him as hard as he can, and he also seemed very panicked whenever Cross succesfully held him, and then resorted to squirming and throwing water at him, honestly, Cross just wishes this would end soon.

-"I will not stop fighting!, leave me alone at once foul wench!"

Cross looked at him silently as Dream looked back with equal seriousness, they both stayed in silence until Cross handed him the soap and the sponge, as Cross tiredly got up to leave, Dream whispered at him silently:

-"......thank you"

Cross looked back at him with a questioning look, as Dream seemed to ignore the glare, he silently looked away as he left the bathroom, but not before whispering back:

-"......yeah...no problem"

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

Cross was eating his dinner happily, well, until Night requested him to call Dream for dinner, since he didnt come down from his room for a while, Cross lazily walked towards the room Dream was given, and then knocked on the door a few times:

-"Dream? You there buddy? Come eat dinner, hope you like soup"

The bedroom stayed silent, Cross knocked a few more times:

-"ok buddy listen, im not joking, Night is telling me to come and get you to get down for dinner"

A faint shuffling was heard from inside the bedroom, Cross waited a while before deciding to turn around the doorknob and opening the door.

All he saw was a little toddler cuddling to the blanket It was given, It looked rather happy and comfy there, but It quickly opened his eyes to stare at Cross, and in turn, shift to sit on the comfy bed he was on:

-"ah, you have returned, welcome back" greeted Dream tiredly.

Cross stared at him confused, why would he even greet him after all of the chaos that happened today, perhaps he was so tired that he gave up on the thought of attacking him? Well, If thats the case, then at least he wont have to deal with a angry Dream.

Cross approached Dream slowly and quite cautiously, as Dream looked at him boredly, the blanket he was holding was quite fluffy though.

-"um, ok so, Night told me to get you to come down for dinner, now answer me, do you like soup?"

-"...hmmmm yeah sure, soup is nice"

-"uh right"

The silence was quite awkward, Dream seemed like he calmed down, but there was still a bit of cautiousness in him, seems like they werent getting his trust so soon.

-"...so, will you come down?"

Dream looks down, thinking carefully and silently before a grumbling sound coming from his stomach (???) broke the silence, Dream got spooked by the sudden sound and made a scared squeak because of It.

As Dream took some time to calm down from the sudden spook, he slowly stared at Cross:

-"...fine, I'll come down"

-"good, follow me, or dont, its your choice"

As Cross made his way to the door, Dream quickly got down from the bed and let go of the blanket he was holding at the entire conversation, following after Cross silently.

[aoi-moved]

Heylo it's me, the one who is piss-poor at remembering names lol. Now that i remembered Anthon's name, may i request 'come back to bed' for him? Thanksss!

mornings.

[ anthon / gn! reader ]

[ notes: of course! here you go!! it’s not very nsfw, it’s just you and anthon waking up the morning after. he says some nasty stuff tho so watch out ooo. not under the cut this time because im mobile bound rn :( ]

After a… tiring night with Anthon, you slowly open your eyes to the sun shining on your face…

…And, of course, Anthon clinging onto your side for dear life, still asleep. He was naked, and was covered in bite marks and scratches. Honestly, it looked like he was having an affair with a feral raccoon. Well, no one could blame you for marking him up so much, he quite literally begged for it. A sucker for pain, that one.

You carefully pried yourself from his arms to go make yourself some breakfast. Some cereal sounded okay. It was fast and easy, and even though you were really craving cheesecake, you definitely would not have it for breakfast. Maybe. Okay, cheesecake for breakfast sounded great, but probably not the healthiest thing. You were getting distracted.

After the two of you had sex last night, you had helped Anthon clean up, and changed into a T-shirt and some shorts. You never really liked going to bed naked, you had a weird fear of bugs crawling on your bare skin at night. Unrealistic, as you kept your house pretty clean, but still.

You stretched your legs. After staying in the same position while sleeping, your legs had cramped up. How unpleasant.

A whine came from behind you.

“Ah… more…” Anthon mumbled behind you. His breathing was getting heavier, and his face redder.

Was… he seriously having a wet dream? The morning after he had sex? Horny bastard.

“Anthon.” You sternly shook him awake.

“H-huh?” Anthony’s eyes shot open, wildly glancing around until his gaze landed on you. “Ah… but, my dream…”

“Let me guess, I was in it?”

Anthon blushed. “Yeah…”

“What was I doing in it?” You sighed. You knew where this was going, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“You.. had tied me up. And you were overstimulating me, fucking me over and over until I was milked dry…” Anthon recalled, practically drooling. “Ha… I’m so pent up…”

“I’m making breakfast.” You deadpanned.

“Wait!” Anthon grabbed your shirt frantically. He looked up at you with a half-lidded, seductive gaze. “Won’t you…come back to bed?”

“Sex later. Breakfast now.”

Anthon groaned in response. You knew you were leaving him hanging on the edge. He could deal, it would just make the pleasure feel even better later.

[mandalorewhore]

Common Ground

Part 2 of Hunter  (formerly Hunter and Prey)

gif by @themandaloriandaily​

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Oral Sex (fem recieving), Cock Warming, Descriptions of violence/blood , Edging (maybe?), Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Blindfolded Sex Words: 11.7k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando land on Nevarro to meet with Karga

A/N: im sorry to niceguy!Karga in season 2

This would be less awkward if you knew how to talk to the man. 

The awkwardness is probably one-sided though you doubt he’s brooding over what the two of you did last night in this cockpit. You’re not a blushing virgin afraid to talk about sex, but it would be nice if you actually knew  something you both had in common, since you’re going to be spending a lot of time together. The extent of your conversations have been about sex, mechanics, and killing people. That’s pretty fitting for the two of you, you suppose. He is… Officially? your bounty hunting partner now.

However, he’s very comfortable in silence, so much so that it seems to be a central part of his character, much like the armor strapped to his body. Is being reserved a part of the Mandalorian creed too, or does he just prefer it? Does he want to talk about how you sucked his dick mere hours after abandoning your jobs as mercenaries? What is he thinking about right now? You could probably ask him all this, you know. Your internal argument is boiling over like a forgotten pot as you ruminate in the passenger seat of the Crest’s cockpit.

    You woke up in his arms a few hours ago, curled up in the pilot seat together, your face feeling a bit grimey due to  not scrubbing it clean after he gave you that facial. Feeling cozy in the quiet moments that follow waking, you snuggled in closer to his warmth, still only separated by the thin layer of his undershirt. You started when his palm squeezed your shoulder, his way of letting you know he was already awake. 

There’s an unspoken feeling about the way he fell asleep in your presence. You may work together now, but you’re still virtual strangers and Mando is a professional. You doubt he’ll pass out in front of you again. 

Slumped in your seat, you mull over every second that passed between the two of you. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting there like a lump of metal. Unaffected. Impassive. If you didn’t have first-hand proof of the deliciously warm skin he hides, you would’ve passed him off  as a droid. 

Actually when you think about it… when it comes to conversation topics, maybe metal is the place to start. As in, the ship that is now your impromptu home for the foreseeable future. You’ve gleaned that the Crest is like home to the Mandalorian and, come to think of it, he seemingly opted to sleep on his little cot down in the ship’s hull instead of taking up a bunk back on the space station. If he were anyone else, the gesture would’ve been ostentatious. It gave the impression that he was ready to leave at any moment. 

But no one wants to confront a Mandalorian.

Bringing up the Crest is probably a safe option and you’re knowledgeable about ships. You can hold your ground when it comes to the technicalities of mechanics. Plus, you can be charming when you want to be; on merc jobs you weren’t put into the femme fatal role for no reason.  Although you’ve casually lured men to their death, you’re more nervous to chat with Mando. But you’re determined to try. Try to be appealing...

    “I’m curious… Once I have some credits saved up, would you be interested in adding mods to the Razor Crest? I haven’t gotten a good look yet, but I’m floating some ideas around.” You bite your lip automatically out of apprehension, but hoping it comes across as playful. You’re not out of line or anything; it's been hours since you last exchanged any words so it's not like you’ve been chatting his ear off. Still, you worry that you sound extra loud to someone who’s spent so long in stillness. 

“That may be useful. What were you thinking?” Mando’s response comes only a second later, and even though he faces the cockpit’s transparisteel windows as he speaks, you’re giddy at his swiftness to respond. 

    “Well, I would love to touch her up a little. There are some issues with the hyper-drive and coms that could be fixed pretty easy. As for modifying, I saw that you installed a mobile carbonite-freezing chamber for bounties?” He nods to affirm your guess. “I could move that ‘round to utilize the space for storage and better suit two people living here. Either install a bed that can swing down or-”

    “Separate beds are unnecessary. We can sleep in shifts or share the bunk.”

    “O-oh. Sound’s good.” You gulp, feeling a little warm. The implication makes you sweat even if he shot down your idea. “Well, upgrading the deflector shields would be a good idea. Protect her better, plus efficient heat dispersal during atmospheric flight would let us jump into hyperspace faster. If we need to run or just want to fuck off somewhere.”

    “Hm. That is a good idea. She’s fast but there's always room for improvement.” He accentuates his response by patting the console lightly, and something about the way his hand lingers gently on the surface reminds you of a parent touseling their child’s hair. A smile stretches across your face, finally relaxing a little after being so tense all morning. For someone that you thought was so serious, he sometimes reveals a sentimental side to his personality. It makes you want to ask him more, to know more about him and how he thinks, but you’re so nervous about asking him anything even slightly personal, anything that has to do with his preferences or opinions. Your short exchange about his ship went pretty smoothly you think, maybe you can ask him more, you’ll just stay on the topic of starships. That should be fine. 

    “Do you have a dream ship?” You blurt, sounding a little less casual than you were trying for. Oops. 

    He takes longer to respond this time, seemingly thinking the question over. “No. Maybe when I was younger. I have the Crest now, there isn’t a need to plan for another ship.” 

    There's that seriousness again, the way he responds to you makes you think that he has never had to answer hypothetical questions before. It makes perfect sense, the average person doesn’t go around asking tall, intimidating Mandolorians about their hobbies. What a Gonk Droid. I’m jealous he can get away with talking like that. Still, you do want to continue this conversation if only to hear his voice. “Nothin’ about planning Mando, just a little make-believe. Personally, I like an A-Wing, the RZ-1 variant is classic even if the 2 is flashier. X-Wings are neat too, minus the pigs flying them.” 

    A weird huff passes through his voice filter and he finally turns to face you. You’re caught off guard by the sudden eye-visor contact, so it’s a second later when you process what that noise was, and the realization makes you positively giddy. “Oh shit, did I make a Mandolorian laugh? Am I on Spice?” 

    “That’s funny- pigs don’t deserve the nice Starfighters.” He laughs again, clearer this time while warmth feelings bloom within you at his reaction. It’s so unbelievable to you that he’s here laughing at something you said. You never once heard a reaction like that from him before now. “Those fast ships are impressive and great for combat, but I need a bigger space… a YV-929 would suit my needs.”

    “Of course it would, there’s like 1000 guns on that blocky thing. Plus the Empire banned it and you like to break rules.” The ship he named is virtually the same build as the Razor Crest, just with more guns, which is amusing to you. 

Creature of habit, you think, finding yourself leaning subtly closer to his body with every exchange. You don’t think you’re imagining him doing the same.

    “16. Could add more though.” He murmurs and something in his voice makes you think that he isn’t being entirely humorous. 

Maker, he is probably mapping out all the baster mods he could stick on that bulky freighter. You’re still amused by his very literal sense of things. You settle back in your seat to observe the hyperspace light streaking across the cockpit, a comfortable silence falling over the cockpit.

As you sit there and ruminate, the topic of weapons brings forth a vague memory in your mind. 

Someone once told you that Mandalorians aren’t considered great fighters due only to reputation and rumor. Most people are aware that armor and weaponry is part of the Mandalorian culture, but fewer are aware that such items have religious significance, going much deeper than a learned skill. Mandalorians are revered as great warriors not just because of their physical training, but because fighting and waging battle is a form of prayer. 

Despite finding rumors about Mandalorians to be generally exaggerated, you feel this one may be true.

 You’re curious but afraid to ask him to elaborate. The fact that neither of you exchanged more than a few words when you worked together is proof of his preferred privacy. Even though you’re pretty sure he wouldn’t mind giving you some sort of explanation about his culture, you decide to avoid any personal questions. 

Plus you really don’t want to come across as asking about his helmet.

    You break the silence shyly, trying to smoothly bring up a different topic. “Down in the hull… I haven’t explored much of your ship, I don’t want to come across as snooping. But I’m wondering, what sort of manpower have you got stored here?” 

“I installed an armory. Do you want to see it?” 

Fuck yes you want to check it out, his personal collection must be a wet dream.

“Yes, I’d love to!” You reply excitedly. The weapons Mando carried were always fascinating. You especially admired that rifle he slung across his back. You’ve never seen it in action but you heard it evaporated its targets. The two spokes at the end made you wonder how it shot. There has to be different settings on the gun, it would be impractical to evaporate all your targets especially if you need to bring back bounties, dead or alive. The bullets he slung across his chest must be paired with the rifle based on their size and shape when you compare them to the rifle chamber. What sort of charge do they contain to completely disintegrate its victims?

You’re tapping your fingers on your bottom lip, calculating how the rifle might function when his leg brushes past you. Glancing up in surprise, you realize he’s already headed to the cockpit ladder, twisting his upper body as he turns his helmet to look back at you.

“Come on.” You’re unable to read his face but something in his body language makes you think he’s amused by you. Flushing red, you scramble upright from the leather seat to follow him down to his armory. He slides first down the ladder, not bothering to use the rungs. Being unfamiliar with the area you opt to carefully descend one portion at a time, unaware of the view you’re giving Mando. By the time you reach the bottom, he’s diverted his gaze. 

Tall body moving to a panel on the wall, he punches in a four-digit code, prompting a smooth metal cabinet on the opposite wall to slide open with a hiss. You shake your head at this. The man has a tiny metal cot but he installed a hydraulic system for his weapons cabinet. But when you look closer at the exhibit your jaw falls open.

Oh my… Now that’s sexy.

The two side doors hang open to reveal a space in the middle filled with large blasters. His mid-sized guns are stacked horizontally above each other while the longer rifles lay vertically to the right of the center display. The doors contain smaller handguns of varying design and purpose. Each weapon is unique, there is not a single inch of wasted space given to any blaster if it doesn’t have distinct properties. Eyes locked on the arsenal, you scoot forward and make grabby hands at the cabinet. 

“Oo, they’re beautiful! Can I- May I see?” You are immediately drawn to a cylindrical pistol mounted at the very top of the stack, the gun’s sight a smooth metal and grip warm brown. Despite its deadly properties, it is a fucking gun, something about it looks soft to the touch. You’re finding more and more that you enjoy the juxtaposition of lethality and softness. 

Even though you’ve made no specification on which gun you want to hold, Mando reaches out and selects the very gun you’re attracted to and hands it to you. I should stare less, it's like he can read my mind. Despite resolving to do so the thought is fuzzy, unimportant when you’re so excited about handling one of the prettiest pistols you’ve ever seen. Mando watches you from a few feet away. 

“Good choice. I usually conceal-carry that blaster since it’s small on me, looks like the perfect size for you though.” Mando’s compliment has you grinning up at him, feeling giddy and full of light, but you’re quickly drawn back to look at the gun. Turning the weapon over in your hands you admire the polished metal, the texture making a satisfying noise as you run your fingers on its silky surface. The weight is perfectly balanced as you aim it at the wall, lining up the sight with a seam in the metal paneling. 

“You can carry it from now on.” 

What? It’s a good thing you know your trigger safety otherwise you would’ve pulled the trigger in shock, probably ricocheting the blast into your head. The giddy energy drains from you, replaced by apprehension and confusion. Why is he giving me so much shit? 

Of course you’re thankful. You’re incredibly thankful to be on the Razor Crest at all; however you can’t help feeling as if you owe Mando on a level where you’re incapable of repaying him. He didn’t have to take you with him when he dropped Ran’s crew, he didn’t have to indulge your sexual fantasies, he didn’t have to comfort you, didn’t have to partner with you, and he doesn’t need to give you this blaster. It is certainly a collectible, a rarity. A Mandalorian wouldn’t have it on hand if it were some run of the mill E-11 handed out to every Stormtrooper in the Empire. 

But what can you even say to him? It would be incredibly awkward if you refused him right now. Your mind races.

Best focus on the easy stuff. As long as he doesn’t drop me off on some wasteland I’ll be fine. That blaster is too pretty to decline so with your willfulness broken by aesthetic pleasure, you holster the gun on your hip, opposite the blaster you already carry. 

“Thank you. I’ll put it to good use.” You try to inject as much gratefulness into your voice as possible, even though you still feel odd about taking it.

“Yes, you will. Get ready and come back to the cockpit, we’ll be on Nevarro in a hour.”

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

 You’re used to men like Greef Karga but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop being annoying.

The way he speaks like he’s owed something from you just because you’re listening, the way it’s clear that every decision he makes is in self-interest, the way he eyes the women around him, yourself included. He isn’t outright dismissive like some men; such as the guard placed behind him only having eyes for your partner; but you can tell he either doesn’t take you seriously or he is more concerned about how he can sexualize you. 

He definitely isn’t treating Mando as a joke. Annoying.

          But, it’s not all bad. You got a kick out of how a hush came over the dusty cantina when the Mandalorian entered. He had been walking behind you which, with a little imagination, gave the effect that they were all reacting to your presence instead. Even though in reality, no one had ever reacted to you that way unless they were leering. You like how they fear him. It's a turn-on. 

You wish they would fear you like that.

          Someone says your name, startling you out of your thoughts. You realize that everyone at the table is looking at you expectantly but you didn’t hear the question at all. Kriff, you need to show yourself up more. Mando’s reputation is practically handing you the job but you still need to sell your skills to get anything decent out of Karga. He’s so stingy with the quarry's, even with Mando despite how he kissed the Mandalorian’s ass when greeting him. You figure that Mando didn’t take on bounties often, which put his skills in high demand.

          “Uhh, sorry. A bit distracted. Can you repeat the question, please?” You reply, accentuating the please with a bat of your lashes while looking Karga full in the face. If he’s going to objectify you, you may as well play into it. Smiling, he leans forward and pushes a glass of Spotchka into your hands, lingering a little longer than necessary when your fingers meet.

          “I asked if you wanted a drink. Take it, I can see you need one.” He winks at you while you stare indignantly, wondering what he means by that. It’s not like you’re sweating bullets in here. You’ve been here countless times on countless planets. Seedy cantinas with seedier people. Hopefully, he’s just flirting and doesn’t think you’re nervous. Maybe the flirting is backfiring.

You grip the glass and wet your mouth with the drink, enjoying the burn for a moment. Mando tilts his helmet at the way you accept Karga’s drink, seemingly looking sideways at you. Narrowing your eyes at him, you drink again and turn back to Karga.

          “Thank you, the Spotchka here is lovely.” It’s average, but flattery can’t hurt. Karga laughs robustly at this.

          “It’s no Alderaan wine, but it’ll do.” He drains his glass then pours himself another, filling it to the brim before turning to your partner. “So, Mando! Word travels fast around here. I take it you’re a full-time guild member now! I’m not surprised, always took you for the loner type. In fact, I already updated your status to full-time before you landed.” Karga waits for a response from Mando but the man sits silently at your side. Unbothered, Karga continues, “But, I am surprised you stayed that long with Ran in the first place. Must be the pretty ladies he keeps around.”

          The comment makes you cringe but you still smile brightly back at him since what he is inferring is clear. Can he just register you already?

          “Not alone. She’s with me.” Mando’s reply is short and flat, with no reaction to how you’re attempting to work Karga’s attention, nor at the revelation that Mando’s departure from mercenary work has apparently spread across the sector. 

          Karga’s smile twists into a smirk as he glances between you and Mando, looking at both of you as if he wants to fit your bodies together like a puzzle. “Well, well, well Mando. Didn’t think you were the type. Is she a bed warmer?”

          Your grip tightens on the glass. What the fuck is he implying? You’re rising in your seat, about to let loose on Karga when a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and pulls you down. Excuse me? Do I have to go off on everyone here? Why the fu-

          “She’s my hunting partner, my equal. Don’t insult us again.” Oh okay, you don’t know why he stopped you and he still doesn’t sound all that offended, but at least he’s defending you. 

Not wanting to be spoken for, you add on, “I’m prepared with my information so that you can register me in the Bounty Hunters Guild. Pull up your holo, I’m done with the small talk.” Your back is rod-straight in the cantina booth, trying to look down at the Guild leader even if he’s seated higher than you. “Also, your Spotchka is shit.”

          Karga’s is unphased at your reactions, even rolling his eyes. He replies bluntly, “If you’re going to join my guild then you need to prove to me that I’m not wasting my pucks on you. Don’t rely on the Mandalorian’s reputation. If you aren't out of some brothel then you were a mercenary, were you not?”

At first, the audacity of Karga has you fuming, ready to stand again despite whatever Mando wants. However, as you’re looking out of the corner of your eye at the crowd you realize that the bodies filling the cantina are no longer milling around quite as naturally. It's subtle, to an untrained ear and eye not much has changed. The chatter around you remains at a consistent volume and no one is blatantly staring. But your senses are sharp enough to tell that everyone in this room is On Greef Karga’s side. If a fight broke out you’d likely lose, even with Mando being worth ten men and the shiny new blaster strapped to your hip. 

Also, your prospects with the guild would be fucked if you fought everyone right now, which is the whole reason you’re here. You have to play nice and it infuriates you… But you still need the job. 

Taking a deep breath to quiet your anger you look to your left away from Karga, only to be startled by Mando’s visor locked directly on you. Sharing a look, one that you can only guess the meaning behind, you find the patience to calm down. You turn back to Karga, locking eyes steadily.

“Sorry for insulting your drinks, that was petty of me. But I am not sorry about how you implied that Mando would keep some poor sex slave around, nor am I sorry for reacting that way. I’d like to start over… If you’ll accept my apology, I’ll accept yours.” You can’t help letting some stubbornness slip into your words. If he’s supposed to be your boss then you aren’t going to keep up a pretense of respect after that. Not without an apology. 

You’ve never given much thought to how you look to other people, how you affect the crowd when you enter a room. It’s not that you don’t think you’re pretty. Being assigned roles by Ran that allowed you to dress up and distract targets was a direct affirmation of how you looked, even if they were creeps. But when you walked into this place, the only heads that turned were for the Mandalorian. You've never had the experience of being scary to other people. You’re always having to prove yourself and show everyone that you’re someone who can handle what’s handed to them, an equal to every other hard character in the galaxy’s Outer Rim... it’s tiresome. 

Karga is looking at you again, a little differently this time. 

    “I respect you for being blunt. Do accept my apology.” He sounds sincere enough so you nod, lips drawn tight. Heavy metal suddenly settles on your knee, Mando’s vambrace is laying across the soft flesh on your upper thigh. He squeezes, oh stars. Now you’re feeling flushed for other reasons than anger. 

    “Do I get an apology?” Mando asks Karga quietly, voice frustratingly mild just like the other two times he’s spoken up in this booth. The other man grins at Mando, more jolly than he should be considering who he insulted. 

    “My apologies, Mando! Do stay with the guild, your skills are irreplaceable! I’m afraid my jokes can go too far.`` His response is light and humorous but no one is fooled by the tone. A Mandalorian is far too valuable to lose. 

    After a few seconds pass between the two men you clear your throat, annoyed by everyone dancing around each other while you’re still not signed up to hunt bounties. It’s your only purpose here but whatever. Karga directs his smile at you, pulling his holo from behind him out of his guard’s hand.

    “I haven’t forgotten about you, sweetheart. Now, I’m going to put your basic details in… Do you happen to be registered elsewhere, such as under an Identichip?” You shake your head; you always worked behind a moniker. “Great! That makes this easy for me. Simply provide a name, real or not, and I’ll set up a chain code so quarries are tied to your data.” 

    You provide your name while Karga fiddles around on the device. It’s unclear if it is really that complicated to work the thing or if he is just stalling. This feels a little too easy so far. Didn’t he make a huge fuss about proving yourself? You decide to ask outright, wanting to bring it up instead of waiting around for him to finish.

    “I thought I needed to prove myself to you. Aren’t you worried about wasting pucks?” You were trying to tease but the bite in your voice can’t be helped. You worry you might’ve gone too far when Karga looks up at you with open annoyance.

    “Do you want to go out back and shoot a few bottles down? Seems childish to me.” He huffs out a short breath and returns to his holo. “I know that you worked with Ran’s crew on mercenary missions which grants you some cred. You can tell me what your specialties were on such jobs and it might convince me to give you the mid-level pucks instead of entry.”

    This is unfair, everyone knows it, he’s the one who told you to prove yourself and now he’s making you feel stupid for reminding him. He’s the one who was so concerned about wasting his precious pucks. But now that you’re here… you might actually be able to talk Karga into giving you a better quarry. Taking a deep breath, you start to list your qualifications.

    “On mercenary jobs, I usually took a stealth role due to my stature. For certain missions, I would dress to infiltrate a group, sometimes carrying hidden weapons but mostly I would conceal poison in my jewelry, skin powder, or anything similar. I’m a great shot and am knowledgeable about starships. When I first started I had to work my way up the ranks, the lowest being mechanics. Within a year I managed to go from handywoman to assassin... There’s more if you want to hear, although I can’t directly prove anything.” You wish you could actually show all these skills to him instead of just telling him. Karga is right, shooting down dusty bottles like some sort of carnival game would be pretty useless, but at least it would feel more substantial than this. 

You’re about to open your mouth and tell Karga more when you’re interrupted by Mando, and he finally sounds emotive, no longer inscrutable in tone. “This is all true. I haven’t worked closely with her on every job but I noticed her when I did. Her stealth was critical to our success during hits. She often worked on my starship. The Crest always came out in better shape once she looked at it.” You’re not sure what emotion is in his voice but whatever it is, it reminds you that his hand is still resting on your knee under the table.

Trying not to smile too widely, you bring your hand down on top of the one on your leg, giving it a pat of thanks. Karga’s eyes follow your movement but thankfully he stays silent, leaning back with a pensive look.

“Alright, this is all very interesting. Tell you what, and don’t take this as an insult, you can either have two entry-level pucks or one mid-tier. It all adds up to the same amount of credits, however, the mid-tier quarries will boost your rank… Mid also comes with a time constraint.” 

There’s always a catch with this man you think, a little displeased, but at the same time, you understand that he can’t maintain his business if all pucks were given away in good faith. Mid-tier seems like the best deal, and you aren’t just here for the money. Presumably, this will be your job for a while so you may as well aim ambitiously. 

“What are the last known coordinates of the mid-tier bounties?” You ask him, trying to sound like you’ve not already decided to take it. 

“One for Corellia and one for Mimban. Neighboring planets.” You grimace, recognizing the names. How lovely, you get to choose between two shitholes. Karga is correct, the planets are right next to each other, so at least you don’t have to worry about fuel. Corellia is more dangerous but the planet is explored thoroughly when compared to Mimban and you’ve already been to Corellia once.

“I’ll take the Corellian bounty, thank you.” Karga slides the puck across the table with an unpleasant scrape before drawing out three more, stacking them in front of the Mandalorian one by one.

“Two are bail jumpers but the credits for each are decent. I also threw in one S level criminal, let's see how you do with that one now that you’re dedicated to my wonderful guild.” Karga grins at Mando so widely that it is almost a grimace. Well, he didn’t have to beg for the good pucks. Yeesh… Mando’s arm lifts from your knee and he gathers the pucks wordlessly.

Mando moves to leave, rising quickly from the booth and leaving you scrambling behind him, slipping your puck in the pocket on your pants.  He’s at the door by the time you remember to say goodbye to Karga. Not wanting to be rude even if you don’t really like him, you turn and wave. “Um, bye! Take care.” 

He waves back. “You as well, girl.” 

A powerful hand grips your forearm and pulls you none too gently to the doors and out into the acrid, volcanic air.

----------------   

    It would be nice if the man who called you his equal an hour ago would tell you his plans. Instead, he had placed a small bag of credits in your palm and told you to go get some food and wait. You couldn’t find it in yourself to snap at him since you were starving, the last time you ate was probably several days ago, before Cantonica. Your hunger might explain the snippiness you’ve felt all day, actually.

    Having finished your meal of dubious-looking soup, you get up to explore a bit before heading back to the ship. The settlement is small and you think it may be the only town on the planet or at least the only one in the area. The land around you is flat enough to see for miles. It’s impressive that Mando disappeared considering the lack of terrain to hide behind. He must be in the city somewhere. 

    As you wander through the busy main strip, peering at different vendors and booths, you start to feel dejected. Mando defended you, spoke up for you, and even backed up your claims so that you’d look better in front of Karga. Then he just… disappeared. Somewhere. No communication. That's fine.

    It’s a little worrisome, the speed at which you’ve become attached to the man. You’ve been together for less than three days, and you already feel weird being alone. You know that you’re being unfair to yourself right now, it's not abnormal to feel lost on a foreign planet plus you literally just lost everything you’ve worked for as a mercenary. But in the end...

    Being here, alone and penniless, reminds you of home, the one you had as a child. It’s something you try to forget about. 

    Swallowing the memories away into that off-limits area within yourself, you decide to leave the bustling road and wander down a dingy alley. Probably not the smartest move but you do have two blasters on your hip. The sounds of the crowd fade in the background as you wander farther and farther down the twisting path. 

    It’s almost funny how quickly things go south. 

Mere minutes later, you find yourself backed up into a wall with two Rodians aiming their blasters at you, your huddled form reflected in their massive, black eyes. One of them jabs your arm with his gun saying something in that grating, echoey voice that most Rodians speak with. You get that they’re both aiming deadly weapons at you but you’re honestly just irritated. 

    “I don’t have credits on me fellas, you can search me but you won't find shit.” They must understand Basic because one of them pins you to the wall while the other pats your body down, searching for anything valuable. Pulling the empty credit pouch from your belt and throwing it to the ground, he twists you to face the wall, grabbing at one of your blasters. The rare one that Mando just gave you. You start to panic now, the positioning of your bodies making you nervous as you realize how vulnerable you are, fearful that they aren’t just looking for something to steal. Kicking backward at the Rodian pinning your arms, you start to struggle against them, trying hard to wiggle free and pull your other blaster.

    You must’ve connected with a kneecap because you hear a sickening crunch at the same time the Rodian howls, falling to the ground. His companion makes a furious sound then lashes out at your face, fingertips just barely connecting with your cheek as you duck slightly too late. Your face stings and feels wet, his gloves seem to have sharp points on the ends. You pray that they aren’t spiked with poison. 

    The injured member is still preoccupied with his hyperextended knee, granting you just enough time to pull the other blaster from your hip before he joins his partner and turns on you. You throw yourself to the ground, aiming at the same time and squeezing the trigger right before you hit the earth. The shot connects with the Rodian who swung at you and he falls to the ground, shriek cut short. Twisting to your side so you can attempt an evasive roll, you attempt to line the sight up with the chest of your living assailant but your shoulder connects with debris on the ground, jerking it out of your smooth movement. 

The blast misses by a few inches. 

The pain from whatever you landed on shoots to your fingertips, numbing them. Noticing your distraction, he hurls his body at you thankfully unable to jump accurately due to the injury you gave him. Despite that, he lands on your legs and starts to drag you toward him, abandoning his blaster in his rage while dirt billows around your struggling bodies.

    You’re terrified, fear making you clumsy as you handle your blaster. You don’t want to die being strangled by some alien in this dirty alley but the numbness in your fingers has you moving slower than usual, hand heavy as you try to aim again. Sucking in a deep breath you scream, hoping that someone on the busy strip will hear you. But no one is coming for you and there is no time to wait. Panicked, you fire in the direction of the Rodian, not taking care to calculate possible ricochet points in the area. A shot connects, his heavy body falling on your hips, dead.

    Fingers still numb, you hurtle upwards and try to wipe the dust out of your eyes to look at the bodies. The first Rodian you shot is a few feet away, slumped against the wall you were pinned to, blaster marks littering the brick surface from your panicked shots. Disgusted, you shove the dead body off of your legs and stand up.

 As you analyze the second alien you realize something doesn’t add up here. 

Somehow the blaster shot that killed him seems to be on the back of his head. How is that possible? Did I manage to reflect it off something and hit him from behind? You’re approaching the body to look for other possible causes of death when a large shadow leaps from the rooftop, landing heavily in a cloud of dust. You curse and aim your blaster at his head, pulling the trigger before you realize who it is.

He’s lucky his helmet is pure Beskar.

“Mando! What the fuck, I could’ve killed you!” Stomach feeling like it’s full of rocks, you march up to the man and slam a fist into his chest plate, hard. Looking up into his visor you feel a flash of misguided anger, lifting your fist to pound on his armor again. “Where the fuck were you anyway?!”

A large hand flashes up to catch your wrist before it can connect with his chest. He looks at you darkly. “Do you always hit people to thank them?” he asks, while his other hand reholsters the silver blaster back onto your hip.

“What do you mean, you-” The pieces connect in your mind, the impossible blaster shot in the back of the head of the Rodian and Mando’s positioning on the roof. 

He saved your ass. Again. 

You already realize your anger is misdirected, he didn’t do anything to warrant it. But the adrenaline and fear paired with your entire experience on Nevarro have wound you up to the point of lashing out. You shouldn’t be mad at him, and you should definitely apologize for almost killing him. Also, you should be thanking him for saving you even though you probably would’ve survived the mugging anyway. That criminal was unarmed at the end there. 

But you don’t care. You weirdly want to argue with him, to try and break that cool attitude he’s been maintaining nearly all day.

“I could’ve gotten him easily. If I didn’t hurt my arm he would’ve been dead before you arrived, also you didn’t answer my fucking question. I thought I was your equal, Mando.” You mock his earlier phrasing from the cantina, hoping he’ll snap and say something back. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he does something so strange that all the turbulent emotions you’ve been harboring fly out of your body in one instant.

Bringing up one glove to cover your eyes, he holds the hand you punched him with at the bottom edge of his helmet, pushing it up with your clasped fingers. There is a quiet hiss and you can feel the weight of metal digging into your knuckles as the Beskar lifts. Your fingers meet with soft lips, coarse facial hair brushing your skin as he presses a kiss on the blossoming bruises there. Heat rushes to your cheeks and you suddenly can’t remember what you were yelling about. 

It’s odd. You’ve seen the most intimate parts of him but only now, having felt his lips, do you truly recognize how rawly human he is. 

Too soon- he draws away, the helmet settles back on his head. You step back blinking as the light hits your eyes, cradling your hand to your chest like it's been hurt. Which you guess it has. You can’t really feel it. 

Unable to meet his gaze you stare at his boots, “You’re weird and I don’t understand you.” Your words sound embarrassingly breathless.

    He chuckles quietly. “Good.” And after a beat of silence- “Do I get an apology?” 

Annoyed at how he mirrored you throwing his words back at him, you look up glaring, but you’re unable to put any actual heat into your halfhearted expression. You’re still thinking about how soft his lips felt plus, you actually feel bad for lashing out at him.

“Yes, um, I’m sorry Mando, I was only mad because I was scared. I actually could’ve killed you, and those guys almost killed me- or worse.” You shrug, eyes round as you look at the violent scene in the alley. “Plus Karga is an asshole and you disappeared, telling me to wait around like a kid. I was in a bad mood.”

“Yeah.” He offers shortly. Is he gonna say more or- “Karga is an asshole.”

“...Is that all you’re going to address.”

“You’re a good shot. You could’ve killed these muggers without me, I just didn’t want you hurt.” He smoothes away a strand of hair from your cheek, tucking it behind your ear before gripping your chin, twisting your head to look at the scratches the Rodian left. “Pretty girl.”

Flushing red again while frozen in his grip, you stand there with him as he examines your face. His gaze is piercing, and you don’t know what he’s staring at. It doesn’t take this long to examine a face. You think he’s just looking at you.

“Let’s get back to the ship, that scratch needs some Bacta gel.” He drops his arm abruptly causing you to sway at the loss of an anchor. Hand flashing out to grip his bicep, you regain your balance before starting to pull him along, heading to the street. 

----------------   

The walk back to the Crest is short.

 You don’t know your way around this city but shipyards are easy enough to find. You recognize the signs pointing it out after your time spent as a mechanic, streets gradually widening to form into a flat strip of land for the vessels, heavy machinery appearing here and there. As you walk, you oddly find yourself getting dizzy, steps starting to drag as you realize you may have injured yourself in the struggle. You can’t recall if you hit your head or if anyone hurt you aside from the gash on your cheek, which has begun to throb. Did you knock your head on the alley wall? 

The Mandalorian grunts behind you when you trip, quickly overtaking your pace to throw your arm over his elbow, then walking at your side and subtly holding you steady. The Razor Crest rises into view over the horizon, so you speed up, relieved. You want to sit down so badly that you even try to jog but Mando holds you back. His helmet ducks down next to your ear.

“Don’t overexert yourself. I want to make sure that scratch isn’t poisoned.” He murmurs, voice overwhelmingly low. Your stomach twists with desire and surprise at the tone of it, he sounds like he’s flirting with you. 

“Does danger turn you on or something?” You blurt, wondering if there is a pattern to the man's desires. He did let you suck him off right after yesterday's conflict and now he seems to be coming onto you after an attempted mugging. Is this a Mandalorian thing? Weirdo. He doesn’t answer you, but the ship is right there so you break away and march up to the lowering ramp. 

You pause in the middle of the hull noticing some changes. The small cot seems to be upgraded, a patterned blanket is folded at the end and there is even a pillow. That sorry excuse of a fresher is more orderly too, shower hose hung from the ceiling like an actual, well, shower. There’s a sliding metal door for privacy installed on the entrance now too. The previously barren hull has a touch of coziness now, not enough to get in the way of efficiency, but everything is just a little more livable. It is unlikely that he did this just because you live with him now but the gesture is still thoughtful.

“Is this what you were doing?” You ask excitedly, walking across the room to sit on the end of the cot. 

“Not the entire time.” He answers vaguely, fiddling with his vambrace to close the ramp and flick the lights on. You just sigh in response, laying back against the bed, the thin mattress has a soft squish that cradles your sore body. Eyes sliding shut you take in the lovely sensation for a few moments. A shadow covers the light behind your eyelids. You open them to peek at the end of the bed, already feeling a blush hot on your cheeks.

Mando is standing there, towering over you with his legs just brushing your dangling lower half. He leans over your frame, arm reaching over you like he’s going to prop himself on top of your body. Your heart pounds as he comes close enough to settle his hand next to your head, helmet hovering right above your forehead. The visor tilts down to look at you frozen underneath him, heat pooling in your lower belly. An almost inaudible hum comes through the voice filter sounding like the beginning of a word as if he were about to say something but decided against it. 

You find your voice, asking him in a trembling whisper. ‘Wha-what? Did you say something?”

He makes that low noise again, replying, “Those scratches need Bacta,” before he gently shoves his hand under your shoulder and pulls, sitting you upright at the end of the cot. 

Your eyes are round, lips pursed in confusion. Honestly, you forgot all about that. 

“O-Oh yeah…” You manage to stutter out as Mando backs up from the opening, making his way to the storage shelves to rummage around. He comes back to the cot with a tin box, undoing the clasps to fish out a tube of gel and gauze. The imagery of medical equipment reminds you of the throbbing on your cheek, which is now accompanied by a throbbing in your cunt. Very conflicting feelings.

“There’s no discoloration or swelling, you’re likely not poisoned.” He starts wiping at your jaw with a wet fabric that smells of chemicals, cleaning off the rust-colored blood that dried there. “How are you feeling?”

“Ummm, fine pretty much.” His gentle motions make it hard to think, the swiping over your skin is so gentle that you’re zoning out. That is until he reaches the actual wound, which stings harshly from whatever liquid is saturating the fabric. You flinch, “Ouch! Well, it hurts now.”

“That means it's working.” Mando picks up the gel and dabs it on your cheek which helps to soothe the sting. “You say you feel fine yet you were stumbling around a minute ago. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

His question is sweet but you don’t like how he points out your loss of balance. It both concerns you and is slightly embarrassing. Are you alright? You aren't sure, the stumbling could’ve been from a number of things, exhaustion, blood loss, or any other affliction. You feel worried now, grabbing at Mando’s free arm and locking eyes with the visor.

“I-I’m not sure… I’m kinda freaked out, is it possible that a toxin could have a delayed-release? What if I kneel over while we’re in hyperspace?” You finish the sentence a little high-pitched, unable to hide the worry in your voice. The Mandalorian circles your wrist with his fingers, bringing your hand to rest on top of your leg and placing his palm over it. His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles. 

“I don’t think you’re in any danger. I’ll take a blood sample for testing then we can stay on Nevarro for an hour, just in case.” You make a sad noise when he removes his hand from yours, but he’s already sifting through the box of medical supplies, probably to find something to test your blood with. Pulling out a tube he turns to you and holds your hand again, which makes you smile until you realize the tube contains a needlepoint to prick your finger with. Oh yuck, you hate needles. A life spent surrounded by danger and that tiny jab still makes you nervous. Breaking out into a cold sweat, you look away as Mando jabs your pointer finger; he must’ve noticed your reaction because his thumb starts up that soothing pattern again. 

“You’re a trained mercenary who is scared of needles?” His tone isn’t mocking, he seems to be trying to distract you. You just stick your tongue out at him instead of verbally responding, worried that your voice will shake. For some reason, Mando freezes at this, one arm halfway to the metal box, the tube of your blood in hand. It is so odd of him that you instantly take note of the reaction, wondering what you did. After a second he starts jerkily moving again, laying a small strip of paper down and dripping your blood on it. He pointedly keeps his gaze on the paper, refusing to face you even when you poke at him. 

‘What? I can’t stick my tongue out at you?” You prod him again trying to provoke a response. You gasp when his hand flashes up and stops your finger in its path, his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist just like when you punched him in the alley.

“Not,” he punctuates the word by dragging your hand down his waist, “When it reminds me of my cock down your throat.”

Your clit throbs again, slickness starting to gather between your legs. “Ummm… sorry?” You reply dumbly, throat going dry when he presses your palm into his growing bulge with a groan. 

His helmet glances at the strip of paper again. “Results are normal. We should still stay on the planet for an hour, just in case… How will we fill the time?”

You don’t know how to respond. Any former thoughts you had in your mind have flown away, leaving you blank. Staring at Mando, your mind races to form a decent response, but you must’ve hesitated for too long because he rolls his hips into your hand, fully hard now. 

Whining, you lean toward him reaching out your free hand to wrap around his neck, but he moves away from your touch leaving you flushed on the cot. His helmet looks you up and down, contemplating something.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks for the second time, voice an octave lower than before. He picks up the roll of gauze, unused at this point, and holds it halfway lifted in the air in front of you. You aren’t sure what he is going to use it for, you assumed to dress the wound but from the way he is holding it, he must have other ideas. He would’ve already patched you up if this were just about the fabric’s typical function.

“I’m feeling fine. The gel is working.” It’s the truth. You can’t feel your cheek throbbing anymore. The Bacta in your bloodstream has a calming effect as well, soothing your anxiety from before. You feel good even, clear-minded and thrumming with energy. You can’t imagine what he is planning but you know you want him so badly it hurts. Your heart quickens.

“Mando…” You breathe, the way you say his name is both a question and a prompt. He answers by unrolling a strip of gauze and holding it out in front of your face. The breathing through his modulator is audible now, pants heavy with desire. 

“I cant- I can’t go slowly, if I fuck you right now. I want to try something else.” You nod fervently, completely ready for whatever he is thinking of doing to you however, you’re admittedly confused when he starts wrapping the gauze around your head and over your eyes. Mando unrolls several layers of gauze, a decently thick strip obstructing your vision to the point where little light penetrates the fabric. His voice startles you when you hear it right by your ear, asking, “Is this okay?”

You’re still wordless, nodding in response again. Mando hums and parts your legs with his hips, pulling you to his body and grinding against you. You mewl into the empty space in front of you and fling your arms out to find him, suddenly needing to feel as much of him as you can reach. 

Hands connecting with his shoulders, you pull him down hard as if you were going to kiss him. The helmet bumps you in the face instead. 

“Oops..” You murmur, embarrassed. Admittedly, you forgot all about the armor barrier between your bodies. Mando huffs softly and bumps you again, gently as to not hurt you with the heavy metal. 

“Wanna guess my idea? “ He asks, sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every inch of you, touching you as if to replace him kissing down your body. He reaches your hips and pauses there. You can’t see anything but you’re guessing he is staring at you, the thin leggings don’t leave much to the imagination. A finger presses onto your clothed slit, running up and down the length of your pussy to gather the wetness there. You can feel yourself soaking through your clothing, Mando’s fingertip is gliding wetly along your folds as if you were unclothed. You arch into his touch, needing more from him; the overwhelming sensation has you falling back onto the cot, laying there with your legs parted and the Mandalorian still between your legs.

The world feels like it’s spinning for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being the desire you feel for the man crouched before you. Other, more complex thoughts on the situation swirl in your mind, paralyzing you with their intensity. You honestly didn’t think he would want you sexually again, especially not so soon. It just didn’t make sense for your idea of the Mandalorian, the image you carry of him as a person, all based on your time together even if much of that time was spent living separate lives. He flirted and inferred to sex a few times today, plus there was that kiss he lay on your bruised knuckles earlier. He defended you, backed up your claims, and spoke of respecting you and your skills. He’s done so much for you today, but you’re still blindsided as you sit here before him, unseeing in more ways than one. Most of all... you can’t stop thinking about that kiss.

Seconds after you physically attacked him and he offers you a kiss. It was the absolute last outcome you expected from your efforts to taunt him, you wonder if he’s even allowed to do that considering his vow to never show his face. You knew he was actively sexual just from your awful experiences on the mercenary station, although you never gave much thought to that drive. It didn’t need much thought, in your opinion. He is a man after all. Face bared or hidden away from the galaxy he still has needs, even if he is devoted to a religion that you can barely fathom the depths of. Your wants and needs seem minuscule next to the enigma of the Mandalorian. 

This all seems unimportant when his fingers hook in the waistband of your leggings and pull. You whimper and lift your hips, trying desperately to speed up the process and bare yourself to him. The blasters you carry are still attached to your waist but you don’t try to remove them. Sex and guns pair together perfectly for the man.

Cool air hits your pussy at the same moment he moans low in his throat. “Fuck, look at you. Beautiful.” 

That reminds you, “Can’t look, can I? N-not like this…” You still weren’t sure about the gauze blindfold he secured over your eyes, your only idea so far is that he must be into this sort of thing. Not that you’re complaining. The temporary loss of sight has heightened every other sense you have, especially touch and sound. You’re certain you’ll remember every word of this encounter for the rest of your life. He’s complimented you several times over the past few days. Pretty. Beautiful. You’ll never forget that. 

“Still haven’t guessed?” The Mandalorian rumbles at your thigh, pulling your pants off your ankles and spreading your legs as wide as the cot doorway will allow. A short growl rips from his throat, his touch leaving your thighs much to your dismay as he fumbles with something. There is a heavy thud that you can't make sense of, he had to have set something large on the ground to make that noise but you don’t know what- oh. Oh, stars I can feel his breath. 

He took his helmet off. For you. The pieces are falling in place quickly but you can’t react to it- you can’t even breathe, every implication of his gesture setting your world ablaze. Your heart is pounding, arms stretched out from the tension you hold in your limbs, you need an anchor, anything-

There's a hot puff of air on your clit and gloveless fingers digging into your thighs. He must’ve removed those too.

It’s like you’ve been sucked into a stasis chamber, the buzz of your cerebral cortex halting all efforts to process what’s happening, enveloped in a place so quiet that you feel fucking crazy. The anticipation is killing you, you’re going to die here and that’s alright, that’s fine, you’d love to die here, in fact- wait where is he? His face is somewhere near your aching center, you know this because you can feel each breath he exhales ghosting over your pussy, the muscles in your hips want to squirm and seek him out but you can’t. Not with all this atmospheric pressure gathering, the weighted air pressing harder and harder down on you and you know you’re about to break. But you’re terrified you’ll disrupt the spell that keeps you both frozen here, still and aching with pleasure. You’re gathering the courage to make the first move when Mando finally breaks the silence.

“From now on,” you interrupt him with a gasp at how different he sounds without the voice filter, the tone is so much fuller and warm, but he then continues unperturbed, “This is fucking mine.”

Your yelp echos off the walls when his hot, skillful tongue liiicks up your slit, flicking at the very top of its path off of your clit. 

Fuck this feels so good, this feels so good, how does it feel like this, so fucking amazing? He barely even talks, how is he so dexterous with his tongue? Tortured noises fall out of your throat as Mando licks through your folds, trying to taste everything his mouth can possibly reach. He rolls his tongue repeatedly over your clit making you tense up and shake from the overwhelming sensation. There's a sound in the hull, you can barely discern the source of it at first but you suddenly realize it coming from your own mouth, a filthy mantra falling from your tongue.

Mando-Mando-Mando-Don’t stop- Please dont-Mando

He stops.

“Hey! What-” Your hands fly down and flounder around finding soft locks of hair and immediately latching on for dear life. Impatiently tugging at his scalp, you try to scoot down and find his talented tongue, your clit feeling cold and achy without his touch. But he’s so strong, a solid pillar of immovable stone and you can’t budge him at all, his only reaction being a deep growl when you yank a little too hard on his head. You must’ve pissed him off because one hand is suddenly on your heat, cupping your pussy with his palm but leaving a gap between your bodies, torturing you with the lack of friction. You whine pathetically at this game. 

“Mando-fuck- why… pleeeaaase.” His touch leaves you entirely and you’re more desperate than ever, writhing to the point where you almost slide off the thin mattress onto the floor. Your inner thighs connect with broad hips again, this time without the barrier of your leggings between you. When your cunt presses into his crotch you realize you can feel more than the cloth of his dark pants, he must’ve pulled his cock out because you can feel his skin, the skin of his cock brushing over you plus just a patch of it from where the hem of his pants is pulled under his balls. A ragged sound tears from both of you when his thick length parts your lips, grinding against your clit.

“I-I thought you weren’t, I mean you said-” 

“I’m not g-going to fuck you-” he gasps out, voice breaking despite the clear determination in his response, “not yet. I want you to use me and make yourself-fuck- cum. Fuck yourself on me.”

You’re speechless, there are absolutely no words in any of the Galaxy’s countless languages, known or unknown, that can succinctly express just how fucking turned on his suggestion makes you. Is this his way of giving back to you after you made him cum the night before? You don’t know, fuck- you don’t care either. Fuck whatever complex you had about owing him, you deserve this and you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your fucking life. 

His broad body is propped over yours, cock grinding into you over and over again as he rolls his hips and groans out, “Well? You want it like this, pretty girl? Or do you-” 

You interrupt him by reaching between your legs and finding his cock, pushing it down your lips to your aching hole. He sucks in a sharp breath and everything is frozen in that quiet place again, just for a split second, before you press his length into your body, sinking down to the hilt. 

A broken sound comes out of you, your throat so tight that your vocal cords can’t rub together to produce anything louder than a squeak. However, the Mandalorian is not without his words, a string of curses tumbling from him in that gorgeous, rough voice. Fuck, holy fuck, you wish you could hear him speak like that for the rest of time, his real voice without the modulator hits you straight in the gut. He called you beautiful yet he doesn’t realize the power of his beauty has completely destroyed you. You’ll do anything for him, for that voice. When he claimed your pussy as his you realized that there was never a point in time where it didn’t belong to him. The Mandalorian moves mountains with his claims. 

He is like a mountain himself, completely stilling his body the second you let him inside you. You clench down on his thick length and drag yourself off of him, leaving only the swollen head inside your hole. You’re burning up, a sweat breaking out over your entire body as you try to take his cock. He’s so thick inside you, stars you can't control your fluttering lower muscles that pulse from the strain. The saliva and slickness helped him slide inside initially but now you’re clenched around him painfully tight as you try and adjust to his size. He lays so still for you, still muttering curses at the feeling of you, yet patient as you work yourself on his cock. But at some point, you can’t help letting out a little wail when you fuck yourself on him, the debilitating mix of pain and pleasure is fucking overwhelming and he can tell you’re struggling.

Mando settles lower on your body, elbows next to your head and armored torso brushing against your upper half, the ridges on his cuirass catching your nipples through your shirt. The movement slightly ruts his hips, an inch of his cock entering you accidentally. You swear and freeze at the sensation, face screwing up-it’s so good but you hurt just slightly. His mouth must be close to your face because you can feel his breath on your skin when he starts whispering filthy encouragement. 

“You’re doing so fucking good for me, taking my cock- fuck you’re so tight, how are you so tight- Maker that has to hurt, you can do it baby, keep-keep trying.” The elbow to your right lifts off the thin mattress, his hand caressing down your body, over your breasts, down your side, gentle trails from his fingertips ghosting over your skin and sending tingles all over. This helps to relax your muscles a little, you feel the walls of your cunt loosen just enough to relieve the uncomfortable ache. Wetness gathers around his cock from his encouragement, as you slide with more ease along him grinding yourself up and down on his solid cock.

It is fucking indescribable, a nearly out of body experience fucking yourself on him, every time you bottom out the thick head presses into a spot that sends flashes of white behind your eyelids. You can't even moan right now, the only noises you manage are shuddering gasps and whines as you feel yourself rise higher and higher. The peak is right there, you can feel it, you’re right fucking there-

“M-Mando, I’m gonna-gonna-fuck, I’m going-I-” You’re frantic, unable to string together the words 

The hand exploring your body diverts its path, reaching between your legs to rub strong circles around your clit.

He’s saying something to you but you can’t understand him, a rush of blood in your ears drowns out all other senses, the only thing you can feel is your blinding climax and the thick cock in your body. You’re clamped down tight on him as the sensation rips through you, building you up and destroying you over and over again. You can’t comprehend how he has the control to just hold himself there, you feel like you’re being wrung dry with how tightly you clench around him with each pulse of your orgasm. Eventually, the white noise fades from your ears and sensation returns to the rest of you, limbs tingling as you stretch the taut muscles.

Mando is trembling above you, arms shaking from the effort of propping himself up for so long. A soft noise leaves you and you wrap your arms around him, trying to soothe the tightness in his muscles like he did for you but the armor gets in your way. He makes a low noise in his throat when you skim over his side, finally allowing himself to rest when he lays on top of you, one arm still holding his full weight back so as to not crush you. You reach an arm under his shirt trying to feel more of his skin, but the padding and metal still attached to his body prevent you from moving more than a few inches.

This time, you’re first to break the silence, “What did-what were you saying?” you ask, not wanting to miss anything he says to you in his real, unfiltered voice. He doesn’t say or do anything at first, his hesitation lasting long enough that you resign yourself to never knowing. But then he lifts his head from where it lays next to yours and you feel the sharp tip of his nose brush your good cheek, over the bridge of your nose to the other side, then press closer into you as his lips meet yours. 

His kiss is so gentle that you forget he’s still hard inside you. All you can think about is the heat of his mouth crushing against yours, pressure held back enough so that he doesn’t dig into your injured cheek but filled with a promise of the energy he holds in his powerful body. You fucking hate those Rodians more than ever because you would give anything for him to kiss you with his full strength right now, holding back nothing. 

But soon -too soon, he draws back from your mouth and pulls his cock out of you. You blush at the obscene noise your wetness makes as he curses and wrenches the last inch away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

‘Come back to me…” You whisper desperately, reaching out for him.

“Fuck I can’t- I don’t want to hurt you.” Mando spits out, sounding wrecked, “I want to so fucking bad but I-”

You try pleading with him, wanting him to feel just as much blinding pleasure as you did from the way your bodies fit so perfectly together. “You won’t hurt me I swear, I can take it-you said I could.” 

He groans in a tortured, painful way, hesitating for a moment and you think you might’ve just convinced him to come back and fuck you- but the hand that eventually touches you isn’t anywhere near your pussy. He’s wrapping the gauze from your eyes, pulling it from your head to press into your cheek. You blink as your eyes adjust to the yellow light of the Crests hull, the usually dull fluorescents are piercing. Still, your vision is not quite blurry enough to hide the gleam of the polished Beskar sitting back on Mandos’s head. You swallow your disappointment at losing the pure tone of his voice to that damn modulator. 

“I can't,” he says softly, “you’re bleeding again. It was too rough.” 

You can’t argue with him. You feel a bit weak and dizzy which is not just from your powerful orgasm. Sleeping in the cockpit didn’t grant you the most restful night; you’re exhausted, slipping away even as he speaks. 

“I’m sleepy...” You mumble, your speech very simple when you’re this exhausted. Mando makes a low noise, indiscernible in tone now that it is passing through the voice filter. You hate that thing for stealing away the depth of his voice even as it fades with your consciousness. 

“Sleep now… I’ll pilot the ship while you rest. Sleep…”

And so you do.

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

     It’s many hours later. The ship hurtles through hyperspace as you stand and examine your cheek in the tiny mirror of the fresher, basked in yellow light. The wound isn't very deep but it’s long, stretching from the high point of your cheekbone halfway down to your jaw. You grimace at the sight. That will definitely leave a scar...

    The Mandalorian is moving quickly behind you in the ship's hull, arranging the carbonite freezing slabs in a way that you can’t make sense of but don’t really care about. You’re too preoccupied with your reflection to consider it. Mando takes note of this. 

    “Warrior marks.” He tells you, walking across the length of the ship to lean against the doorway of the small fresher. “Wear them proudly, burc’ya.”

Wear them proudly. 

And so you do.

[trustbutvcrify]

NAME: nick AGE: 26 PRONOUNS: he / they

 this is my main blog and where i’m logged in on mobile. ims are open so if you need me for whatever reason, feel free to message me. discord is available for mutuals and i will likely be quicker to reply from there.

MY PORTRAYAL & OTHER THINGS

most of my muses are headcanon based and/or canon divergent in some way. a majority of the muses listed as on request or plot only are not as awake as the others and require a good amount of plotting. responses times from them will vary

IMPORTANT LINKS

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BLOG ROLL

oliver queen / green arrow of cw’s arrowverse: hoodedxviigilante ( HIATUS ) ryker knotley, a dungeons & dragons oc: oceansailed ( UNDER CONSTRUCTION )

[scaredandbored]

.ok i caved and wrote spones. academy au spones. with a really, horribly out of character spock. was this purely self-indulgent? yes. i’m not even 100% sure what im doing with this story, only that its spones, they share a dorm, and its going to be a gross, borderline self-insert fic lmaoooo. playing fast and loose with the academy’s curriculum because i’m a lazy piece of shit who won’t research the actual structure. also, idk if it even counts as slash, because it contains what i consider flirting, which is ACTUALLY just bickering and academic/scientific discussion combined with gentle physical contact. let me have this. 

additional note : i snuck in some pining at the end! so it’s definitely romantic! ha! (it’s not worth it dont bother)

additional additional note : i fucked up a perfectly good spones fic by trying to add jim but it turned into McSpirk 

Collectors poke and scalpels ring

(title from billy corgan’s poem “a wax seal”)

warnings : don’t read this spock is so badly written in it.

                 blatant abuse of the comma, oxford and otherwise

                 someone gets burnt but it’s not severe and it’s off of tea 

                 cursing. a lot of it. 

words : c.6’000 (i’ll count properly tomorrow, it’s hard to get a word count on mobile)

If Leonard was being completely honest with himself (which he tried to be, dammit), his studying had stopped being productive at some stage between midnight and one a.m, but he’d be damned if he was going to grant his smug-enough-already roommate an “I told you so” by going to bed. Not that Spock would use such colloquial, illogical language. Resisting the urge to groan, Leonard let his head fall to his desk, confident the pile of pages he had accumulated while studying for his assessment in Standard Procedures in Classifying Non-Humanoid Life-Forms would muffle the thud enough to prevent upsetting his roommate’s meditation in the bedroom next to his. Walls were thin at the academy, that was the whole reason he’d had to turn down Jim when he’d requested Leonard to bunk with him for their second year in the academy. Bones loved the kid, he really did, but if he wasn’t blasting his frankly awful study music through the whole night, he had someone over from wherever he’d been that evening, and Bones had come to learn (quickly, and unwillingly), that Jim was loud in bed.

Making the decision to go make a coffee (not with one of those godawful replicators, but with some decent coffee beans that his younger sister had brought as a present on his birthday, for which he’d had to actually purchase a grinder and coffee press for afterwards, but it was the thought that counts), Bones couldn’t help but miss the all-nighters he and Jim used to pull together in their previous year at the academy, using each other to keep awake and motivated. The kid’s taste in classical music left much to be desired, but he didn’t seem to mind Bones’s preferences, so they’d throw on the med student’s study playlist on Jim’s maybe-technically-banned-but-no-one-is-going-to-snitch-on-us-because-we-all-have-one-Bones-relax speaker and bounce flash cards off of each other, explaining things to one another, and sharing notes. Jim had always been very much an aural-oral learner, unable to retain information unless he had explained it to someone, or had it explained to him, and while Bones definitely did not mind helping his friend out, he’d always been a more individual learner, preferring to take his notes and summarise them, re-writing the most important points until he had them ingrained in his subconscious. Which was all well and good, except it was a pain in the ass of a technique that only became more frustrating when it was employed in a long night of cramming.

Quietly, Bones took his mug as well as the rest of the required paraphernalia from the almost-bare shelf in the equally almost-bare cupboard he and Spock had voted to dedicate to Bones’s “illogical need to entertain guests with a strange variety of baked goods paired with one of two hot beverages” and Spock’s “ostentatious pots and probably poisonous concoctions”, all while chiding himself for reminiscing about study sessions. Of all the stupid shit he could reminisce about at the ripe age of twenty-two, study sessions with a friend he could easily invite over to join him was probably the one of the most stupid. Bones was forced to pause and evaluate his situation as he realised that all his quiet tip-toeing about in an effort to leave Spock’s meditation undisturbed was probably null and fucking void, seeing as he had to manually grind the coffee beans, which would indubitably create enough noise to irritate those over-sensitive ears. Not that the vulcan could feel irritation. Fucking asshole.

Rolling his eyes at his own cankerous mood, he began to prepare his coffee, keeping half an ear on the sudden rustling noises from Spock’s bedroom as the disturbed vulcan did god-knows-what before coming out to lecture Leonard. Or to glare at him. Or condescend him. Maybe criticise him on how late he’d left it to study for this godforsaken exam. Or maybe Leonard was projecting onto his poor roommate, who he’d only known for the better half of a month. (During which, the cranky bastard side of his brain argued, said roommate had made his distaste for human culture and illogic clear, his particular dislike (it was dislike, regardless of whatever “vulcans don’t feel” bullshit he was trying to pull) of Leonard thinly veiled, and his disinclination to speak to Leonard in general blatantly obvious.) Most likely Spock would simply head into their shared living area to procure a cup of his noxious evening teas before returning to his meditation, not stooping so low as to acknowledge the source of the disruption to his nightly routine. Leonard’s mission to caffeinate himself was not under threat. It took more energy than Leonard would ever admit to quell the disappointment that bubbled up at the thought of Spock just ignoring him.

It was stupid-o-clock in the morning, of course the vulcan wasn’t going to engage in a full-blown academic conversation with him, what was he thinking? Bones haphazardly plopped the filter over his mug just as the kettle came to a boil, doggedly ignoring the squeak of Spock’s door and the sound of his bare feet against their tile floor.

“It is not recommended for humans to ingest beverages of such a high caffeine content at this hour.” Spock’s voice breaking the eerie silence of the late hour was enough to make Leonard’s usually still hands jerk, splashing his knuckles with the hot water. He managed to suppress a hiss of pain, determined not to let the vulcan see any weakness.

“It’s not generally recommended amongst humans to get your medical degree at Starfleet Academy, yet here I am, Spock.” Griped Bones, turning to face Spock with his mug in hand, the eye contact he made intended as a challenge. Try and stop me, Pointy.

Spock raised an eyebrow, which alerted Leonard to the vulcan’s significantly slower than normal movements. The damn vulcan was sleepy, he realised. In an infuriatingly adorable way, Spock blinked slowly twice before responding, a significant delay in his usual response times to Leonard’s taunts. “On the contrary, an education in Starfleet Academy is highly coveted amongst humans; its expansive curriculum makes its graduates highly sought after in careers outside of the academy. I see no logic in your statement.”

Bones rolled his eyes, knocking back half his coffee in a matter of seconds, and burning his tongue in the process. “I don’t see the logic in continuing to hold conversations with an individual you find so distastefully illogical, Mr.Spock.” He passed the strange traditional vulcan teapot out to his roommate along with the decidedly terran-style mug Spock seemed to prefer using.

Spock offered three more of his slow, dazed blinks before responding with a tilt of his head that was slightly more pronounced than the one he tended to make during the day. “Distasteful? I do not believe I have ever said as much, McCoy.”

Bones gave a single, barking laugh, shaking his head as he began to move back towards his bedroom. “Careful, Mr.Spock. Keep up the flattery and you might say something you regret.”

“You are studying?” Spock called after him, just as Leonard was closing his door.

Leonard watched Spock as he shuffled around their kitchen, preparing his tea, his normally purposefully brisk steps reduced to a half-asleep stumble. His roommate gave no indication of having spoken to him. “In my usual, time-consuming way. Yes I am, Mr.Spock.”

Spock did not face him, but the delay in his response was still significant, for the vulcan, “You study using this highly inefficient method only when learning independently, correct?”

“What is it you’re getting at? There’s only so many hours in a night, and some of us have work to do.” Growled Leonard, his prolonged view of the back of Spock’s house robes frustrating him. Their arguments were much less entertaining and all the more aggravating when he couldn’t look Spock in the eye. Spock attempted to answer while turning to face Leonard in his sleepy daze, forgetting that he was halfway through pouring the boiling water over the strainer, effectively dousing his front in the scalding liquid. There was a brief pause where Spock blinked down at the front of his robes, while Bones processed what had just happened before jerking into action. “Get that glorified dressing gown off of yourself, Spock!” He whisper-shouted, determined not to wake the entire residential block. Spock just blinked at himself, then at Leonard.

“It is burning.” He deadpanned, prompting Bones to roll his eyes and cross the room in a few quick strides.

“It’s boiling water, Spock, of course it’s burning.” He hissed tapping the lapels of the robes. “You need to get out of this so we can get you under some running, room temperature water, try and stop any blistering.” Spock finally seemed to register what was going on and began to unwrap the ties of the robes, turning away from Leonard as he did so. Leonard noticed his roommate look uneasy at the prospect of being shirtless around him, and decided to leave him to it. “I’ll go run the shower, you dry yourself off a bit and run any part of your arm that got caught in the stream under the tap. I’ll call you when the shower’s the right temperature, ok?”. Leonard waited for Spock’s nod before bolting off to their shared bathroom to start working. 

So much for his productive night studying. It was starting to look like he’d be playing nurse for Spock until the on-campus medbay opened at five am. He was just beginning to realise exactly how fucked he was for the exam the following day when the door to their bathroom creaked open slowly. “Nearly there, Spock. I don’t recommend using any of your pungent herbal shit, we don’t want anything getting into any burst blisters or anything.” 

“Your alarm is unwarranted, Leonard. There is no lasting damage done to my person.”

“Congratulations on your medical degree, Spock, didn’t realised you’d discovered a fast track. Y’could’ve told me.” Leonard drawled, not taking his eyes off of the shower, his wrist under the stream of water to monitor the temperature. 

“You know I have done no such thing.” Spock huffed, his less alert state loosening his restraint enough to allow for such blatant emotionalism. 

“Sarcasm, Spock. Somethin’ you’re gonna have to get used to if you plan on launching into the void canned in with a bunch of humans once we graduate.” Leonard was angling for a mild version of their normally acerbic exchanges, but Spock didn’t seem willing to take the bait.

“If you insist I must bathe in tepid water, I will comply, but I trust you understand the state of my health is my concern alone, and you have no power to forbid me from assisting you with your studies.”

“Bold of you to assume I want your assistance.” His final attempt to goad Spock fell just as flat as his others, and he gave a defeated sigh. “Please stay in until your skin’s returned to its normal complexion, alright?”

Spock gave a half nod and stood to the side to let Leonard pass out of the bathroom, which he did a mite faster than was strictly necessary. Sighing as Spock closed the door, Leonard began weighing the benefit of trying to study against the fact he was just worried enough to be distracted from anything too difficult. Leonard scoffed. “Who am I kidding, everything in this module is difficult enough to make me want to rip my fucking eyes out.” He continued grumbling incoherently as he made his way back to his room, throwing a dirty look at the mess of teapots, mugs, and cafetieres as he walked past it. Spock would have a hissy fit. Or, the closest thing the teachings of Surak would allow to a hissy fit. “Goddamn, green-blooded, neat-freak.” Leonard groused, frowning at the state of his room.

Leonard often consoled himself for his lack of cleanliness within the confines of his bedroom using the fact he very rarely sullied shared living areas. He liked to think of his room as a sort of nesting area; cluttered, but cosy and homely. Spock thought the state of his room was indicative of his disorganised mind and illogical outlook on life. He looked around his room, trying to decide how to partially tidy it most effectively before Spock got out of the shower. 

Ultimately, he decided to leave anything that could be passed off as studying material (including, but not limited to the notes Jim had left behind on Starfleet-approved mixed martial arts) and to gather all clothing into one pile behind the door. He had just finished that and was contemplating moving some of the collection of unwashed, half-empty mugs he’d forgotten about into the sink when someone cleared their throat at the threshold of the door, causing Leonard to jump. “Goddammit, Spock, y’could’ve killed me!” He snapped, subtly kicking the sleeve of one of his hoodies behind the door. 

Spock’s eyes followed his foot as he attempted this subterfuge, which lead him directly to the pile of clothes. He raised an eyebrow, looking back at Leonard. “I was unaware the human heart was so poorly designed that even one belonging to a relatively fit for duty, young man was susceptible to cardiac arrest caused by unpredictable scenarios. It leads me to wonder why Starfleet consists mostly of such an inept species.”

The adorable, sleepy Spock had disappeared, leaving the sharper, more alert, more dangerously attractive Spock that Bones was going to have a hard time not coming onto over the next year. “I think I preferred you when y’couldn’t string together a sentence.”   

Spock’s eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he stepped purposefully towards Leonard’s desk. “You are hardly the image of a functioning officer after your rest cycle has been disrupted, McCoy.” He quipped, pouring over the notes Leonard had been working on before the whole tea-spilling fiasco. “You have been repeatedly transcribing the same five notes for upwards of an hour, if you maintained a constant rate of words per minute.” 

Leonard shrugged, striding over to his desk to snatch the notes back defensively. “What of it?” He snapped, picking up his pad of paper (not good for the environment, but he’d loaned his PADD that he usually used for revision to Jim a week ago and wasn’t due to get it back until that weekend) and old-fashioned pen that used to belong to his mother. 

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard’s odd behaviour, picking up the textbook that had started to slip down the back of the overcrowded desk to leaf through it. “It is a highly inefficient method of study. Particularly given your current time constraints.” 

“Spare me the lecture, Spock. It works, and that’s all that matters.” Leonard drawled, having already resumed his scribbling, desperately attempting to commit one of the longer definitions required for the exam to memory. 

“That statement has no grounds in fact, nor does your extension based on the untruth follow any semblance of logic.”

Leonard uttered a string of curses in his native tongue, making Spock consider taking Earth English classes on the side, if only to aggravate the med student in his own native tongue. Not that Spock would ever admit to such irrational motivations.  “Dammit, Spock,” Leonard’s familiar growls in Standard had less venom than they usually did this early in their verbal sparring, a fact that drew Spock’s concern sharply onto the med student. “,either sit down and help a guy out, or get out and let me be. Ain’t that hard.” Spock eased himself down onto the human’s bed carefully, sitting cross-legged beside him with the textbook balanced carefully on his knee.

“I have heard you listening to music whilst studying on previous occasions. I have noted you do not tend to do so while I am meditating, however, I am doing so now. If it assists you, I would recommend you indulge.” Carefully watching the human for signs of distress while he spoke, Spock decided another snip at him would not hurt him. “Your human focus is dismal enough without depriving it of the stimulus necessary for it to operate at an acceptable level of efficiency.”

Spock watched with mild satisfaction as Leonard threw his archaic study materials down in a small rage, his eyebrows practically dancing as he spluttered furiously for exactly 3.2 seconds before responding coherently. “Why, you listen here, you green-blooded son-of-a-bitch, y’ain’t doin’ much good in this here bedroom, so you’ve got about three seconds ‘fore i throw you out!”

Spock unfurled himself and stood, but he didn’t make a move for the door. Instead, the stoic bastard moved back to Leonard’s desk, sorting papers into piles as he systemically searched the surface for something. Finally, he picked up Leonard’s music device: a miniature PADD his younger sister had constructed for her first set of practical engineering exams, programmed to run audio files only. “A’ight, give it here.” Leonard stretched out his hand, palm up, waiting for Spock to hand it over. Spock took a moment to briefly page through the audio files Leonard had equipped the tiny device with, the corners of his mouth turning down fractionally. “Somethin’ the matter, Spock?”

“I was under the impression that humans preferred to listen to classical music whilst studying?”

“That is classical, Spock.”

“I do not recognise it.”

Spock looked up just in time to watch the furrows between Leonard’s brows deepening. “Well, it’s classical, terran music, not vulcan, so I don’t suspect y’would.”

Without thinking, Spock said, “My mother made sure I was acquainted with many kinds of classical terran music as a child. I expected to recognise at least one of these songs from the information she provided me with.”

“Your mother liked terran music?”

Spock didn’t even pause to consider the trust required for him to offer an insight into his personal history. He just did. “My mother was human. I am only half-vulcan.”

“Might be half-vulcan, but you’re still a whole pain in the ass.” The rapidity of Leonard’s answer set Spock totally at ease, and the vulcan allowed himself to relax slightly in the presence of the human. “Y’still’ve done absolutely fuck all to help me, and I really do need to study. Y’can stay if y’want, but I can’t be shootin’ the breeze with you all night, y’hear?”. Spock’s look of confusion at the idiom was enough to send Leonard back on the defensive, and he was about to launch into a strong verbal eviction from his room when something almost-but-not-quite-clear quickly swept over Spock’s eyeballs. “What in the fucking HELL was that!” He shrieked, immediately grabbing his training tricorder from under his bed and scanning Spock, studies forgotten.

Spock’s alarm was only notable in his shoulders, which tensed as Leonard crowed into his personal space to a degree that would’ve been considered improper on Vulcan. Spock did not make any movement to rectify this situation. “McCoy?”. Leonard was muttering to himself as he scanned Spock for a third time. “Leonard?”

“What was that, Spock?”

“I am unclear on what it is exactly you are referring to.” Spock maintained solid eye contact with the Leonard, concern for the human’s mental well-being bubbling under his cool exterior. Leonard blinked, twice, incredulously, before putting his hand on the junction between Spock’s neck and shoulder, which was covered by his turtleneck. He looked at though he was going to say something before he went extremely pale and spluttered incoherently for a few moments before beginning anew with his tricorder scans. “Leonard?” 

“Spock, something’s happening to your eyes.” He growled in response, pressing at the junction where his hand rested. “Turn your head, I want to scan it from another angle. Do you feel dizzy, nauseous, anything out of the ordinary?” 

“Nothing. The level of confusion I am experiencing is within normal parameters for my interactions with you.” Spock felt a wave on content pass over him when McCoy stopped scanning for a second to glare at him, before shaking his head and resuming his activities.

After a few minutes, he withdrew the scanner, dragging a hand down his face. “Spock, I don’t suppose vulcans happen to have a second pair of eyelids, do they?” 

“Have your anatomy classes failed to cover that of vulcans?” Spock narrowed his eyes, deflecting from the fact that he didn’t actually know if the second eyelid was still a functioning part of vulcan biology. He’d learnt about it as a vestigial organ, but his hybrid nature had fascinated many scientists back home. One of the reasons he had decided to leave for Starfleet; Spock had hoped to avoid the invasive poking and prodding done in the name of research. That being said, the soft poking sensation of Leonard’s fingers through his shirt was far from uncomfortable, and Spock felt strange when the sensation stopped. 

“We do, but the piss-poor files the VSA are willing to relinquish to us mere humans are so fucking full of redaction and contradiction that all we’ve left to work with are a few vague diagrams and thoughouly unhelpful paragraphs on the composition of vulcan blood.” Leonard took a step back from Spock, restoring the traditional respectful distance between them. Much too distant for Spock’s liking. “You’re sure you’re not going to die in the next few hours until we can get you to the sickbay tomorrow?”

“I do not need-”

“Spock, you’ve not only burnt yourself-”

“It is superficial at most, and does not require-”

“-but you’ve just discovered what might maybe be an eyelid but could equally -for all we know- be-”

“-medical attention. Your anxiety is unwarranted and your focus on your studies has waned to what could prove to be a detrimental degree if you do not-”

“-a malignant growth of some sort, you have to go to find out if that thing is hurting you or not at least-”

“-cease your illogical fussing and resume.”

“-and I- Spock are you even listening to me?” Leonard’s gradually increasing volume finally peaked out, and Spock raised an eyebrow at the outburst. “Ah. shit, the neighbours.” 

“At this hour, we can hope they are in a deep enough sleep not to have heard-”

“Are you kidding me Spock, I practically screamed-”

“If we continue in this vein, you will lose what little volume control you posses. Please sit down once again and I shall try and gauge how much you have prepared for this test already and we shall start from there.” Spock’s eyebrow lowered itself slowly as he relaxed once more, Leonard sitting down on the bed close to the headboard, making it easy for Spock to sit relatively close to him without making it look like anything but a logical decision for optimum viewing of the human’s notes. Not that it wasn’t motivated by logic. The fact his side was pressed soothingly to Leonard’s was a pleasant bonus. “That eyelid thing is a bit strange, you’re sure it doesn’t hurt?”

Spock levelled him with a flat stare. “I shall visit the nurse tomorrow if you cease this discussion.”

Leonard shrugged and dropped his head down and began working on a list of things he felt confident on for the next day in an attempt to hide his smug smile. It didn’t work, but Spock didn’t say anything. 

A few hours later, they had taken a break from Spock’s relentless verbal assessments for Leonard to give his brain a chance to process the points they had been drilling and for Spock to asses the data he had collected on Leonard’s rate of retention of information to try and streamline their next bout. Except Leonard’s head had dropped onto Spock’s shoulder, and the heat from where their sides were pressed tightly together was relaxing Spock into a borderline meditative state. It was only when his chest started to vibrate lightly when Spock snapped himself back to reality, confident he had not woken his study mate with his unfortunate vulcan habit. Hubris was not a trait vulcans were capable of possessing, so Spock classed his slide in judgement as a calculation error, not as a result of unfounded pride.

“Were’y’... purrin’, Spock?” The human’s voice was muffled by Spock’s turtleneck, so the flush high on the his cheeks went unnoticed by Leonard. 

“It is... an unfortunate, involuntary response of Vulcans.” Was Spock’s clipped answer, suddenly awake and almost frantically pouring over the notes he had made on Leonard’s progress. 

“Mmm, sounds like more of y’all’s goddamn cagey nature. Outta be somethin’ your doctor outta know.” Leonard slowly picked himself up off of Spock’s shoulder. Spock felt irrationally irate at the loss of contact, despite the fact their sides remained pressed together. “Ah, shit. How long was I out?”

“Twelve minutes.” Was Spock’s response, glad to have moved on from his embarrassing lapse in control. Leonard’s response wasn’t forthcoming, so Spock chanced a glance at his roommate, only to find his mouth wide open, eyes closed, and seemingly struggling for breath. Spock’s basic first aid training kicked in, fully aware that humans, much like vulcans, required a constant supply of oxygen, and he began to thump at Leonard’s back, the angle much too awkward for him to apply the force necessary to dislodge whatever may have been blocking the med student’s airways. Except, the med student seemed to have cleared his airways on his own. And was using his perfectly clear airways to yell at Spock.

“The hell’re you doin’? Coulda seriously hurt me with that goddamn “superior vulcan strength” you won’t shut up about! Ain’t a fella allowed t’yawn in his own damn bedroom?”

Spock quickly stood up from the bed, and Leonard watched as the relaxed stance the vulcan had had previously completely vanished. “You appeared to be in respiratory distress. The training I have thus far received in first aid on humans required the first thing to do in such a situation would be-“

“Dammit Spock, I’m a med student, I know what t’do when someone can’t fucking breathe! I, oddly enough, was breathing just fine!”

Spock’s chin lifted fractionally, the last of his near-tender demeanour hardening. “Incorrect. Your chest ceased to rise and fall regularly, you had opened your mouth for maximum oxygen intake and yet you did not inhale, and the distress weakened you insofar as you were forced to close your eyes.”

Leonard looked at him, incredulous. “I yawned.”

“I do not understand. Does this correlate with your -“

“I yawned, you thick-skulled-“ Leonard stopped and took a breath, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Don’t worry, s’just an unfortunate, involuntary response of humans.”

Spock recognised he was being quoted, but unlike previous, malicious quotations made by various humans (including this patprticular one), his roommate did not seem to be trying to get a rise out of him, so he decided to retaliate. “That is the nature of most human responses, voluntary or otherwise.”

The outraged eyebrow that was slowly creeping up Leonard’s forehead was completely undermined by the sleepy grin that was taking over his entire face. “I’m not going to get much more study for this assent done, huh?”

“Assessment?”

“Yeah, the thing we’ve been studying for.” Leonard looked confused, but Spock’s head tilt betrayed his own befuddlement. 

“You referred to it previously as an exam.” His arms crossed his chest, marring his perfect posture slightly. It looked to Leonard that, despite his confusion, his roommate was more relaxed than he had been. 

“Yeah, an exam, an assessment, no difference, is there?”

Spock would later deny the look he gave Leonard was ‘incredulous’, Leonard would exaggerate his expression into one of absolute shock when retelling the tale to Jim the following evening. “There is a considerable difference, Leonard. Considering the brevity of this particular elective, the only grade that might impact your final score will be the final examination. Assessments in such a relatively insignificant elective will not affect your final grade in any serious manner.”

“It’s a matter of pride, Spock.” Leonard smiled, shaking his head. “Gotta keep up appearances.”

Spock glowered down at his roommate, the expression so slight that Leonard didn’t notice it at all. The silence strung out for a moment longer than absolutely necessary before Spock sat down at the foot of Leonard’s bed. “Pride is illogical, McCoy.”

Leonard snorted, shaking his head. “Pride and spite are the only things that keep me going, take ‘em away and I wouldn’t do a thing.” 

He watched as Spock’s eyebrow crept upwards, his head tipping lightly towards him. “Your finger brushed my collarbone earlier, when you touched my robes.”

Leonard went a bright red, and his respiratory distress seemed genuine this time. He leapt off of the bed, putting the distance of the width of the room between them. “Fucking shit, Spock? Why didn’t y’tell me! Fucking touch-telepathy, that was probably stupidly invasive, wasn’t it? Shit, shit, shit! I’m sorry. I’m fucking dense, I thought- I don’t know what I was doing, shouldn’t’ve gone near you-”

“Calm yourself Leonard-”

“And now you’re too polite to call me out on it, goddammit, we had lectures on proper conduct with vulcans, fuck-”

“Leonard.” Spock had stood and walked over to the human. Leonard was shocked when Spock put his hand on his shoulder. “There is no offence taken, do you understand?”. Leonard seemed to have lost his voice, but nodded. “I only brought up the incident because I sensed only concern and concentration from you through the contact. There was no bitterness, no concern for your pride or reputation. You saw your patient and thought of nothing but how best to administer effective and efficient treatment.”

Leonard had not made any indication of wanting to brush off his hand, so Spock decided to return to the personal space he had occupied while Leonard had been scanning him earlier. Leonard blinked several times, eyes crossing slightly to stare at the tip of Spock’s nose, only an inch, maybe less, from his own. His mouth suddenly went dry, and he swallowed hard, once. Spock’s nose had never looked so kissable. He shook his head- not an appropriate thought to be having while Spock was, wait, what was Spock saying? Leonard could hear him speaking, but his brain wasn’t processing the words correctly. Or at all. He thought maybe he was complimenting him, or maybe trying to get Leonard to explain his dry, almost self-critical comment. Hell, Spock could be reciting Shakespeare for all Leonard knew. Or cared. The vulcan’s voice was deeper than it was normally, more like it was when he had been sleepily pouring his tea earlier, less like it had been for their shared life up until today. The vibration of this deeper voice reminded him of the purring, the utter relaxation and warmth that had accompanied those vibrations, and... and Spock was still talking and Leonard still had no idea what he was saying because his mouth was moving very nicely, had his mouth always moved that nicely?

“BONES!” That voice would pull Leonard out of any dazed stupor he could possibly fall into. That voice, with that tone always meant one of two things. Jim needed his help, or Jim had done something he needed to confess to that would probably piss Leonard off. “BONES? YOU HOME?”

Spock had somehow managed to perch himself on the edge of Leonard’s desk, textbook and notes in hand, pointedly not looking at Bones. Rolling his eyes, Leonard walked out into the living area. “What the fuck have you done, Jim?” 

“Bones!” Jim practically bounced over to the med student, which meant he’d absolutely fucked something up that was going to piss him off. Clapping his shoulder playfully, Jim used the momentum of his bounce to swing himself around Bones, heading for his room. “You’re not going to believe what a weird mix-up there’s been, man! So, look, I-why, hello, Mr.Spock!” Jim glanced over his shoulder with an “i-cannot-believe-you-got-the-hot-guy-we’ve-both-been-crushing-on-into-your-room’ look on his face, his mouth slightly open and his eyes comically large in mock disbelief. “What’s a hot guy like you doing in a dingy place like this?” He had turned his impish gaze back on Spock, gesturing vaguely around Leonard’s room as he mentioned the ‘dingy place’.

Spock’s face remained impassive, not betraying the flash of amusement he always felt when the younger human flirted blatantly with him. “Vulcans’ core temperatures are, on average, actually lower than that of humans.”

Where Leonard would’ve snapped back a witty counter attack in order to incite a fascinating debate, Jim simply leaned right into the lewd implications only he could draw from such a droll, basic fact. “Are you saying that you think Bones and I are hot, Mr.Spock?”. The man had far more confidence in his charismatic abilities than any other human Spock had seen knocking their own glasses off of their face when discussing something passionately with a lecturer.

Spock was about to fire back a response -noting in the back of his mind that of the friendships he had deliberately built with a select few humans in the hopes of appeasing his mother, the ones he had formed with Jim and Leonard, though not particularly strong yet, brought him a feeling of completion- when Leonard came into the room, red-faced and rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Jim, you’ll make him uncomfortable. Vulcans don’t flirt, that’d require expression of emotion.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at Leonard, mildly puzzled. Had Leonard not recognised their discussion before Jim had arrived for what it was? Was his respect and admiration of the medical student not clear?

“What is it you’ve done, Jim?” Bones had leaned himself against the door frame, staring fixedly at his ex-roommate, who was glancing between Spock and Bones with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. 

“Well, I was going to apologise for a stupid thing I did, but seeing as it wound up with all three of us in a room with a bed, I’d say no apologies needed.” Jim couldn’t keep a straight face delivering that line, his flirtatious demeanour crumbling into pure giddiness. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop. S’just weird seeing the two of you together, it’s like you guys exist separately in my mind, and seeing you getting cosy in Bones’s room is just so wacky-“

“Jim!” Bones’s bark made Jim laugh even harder, and Spock allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch ever so slightly as Jim’s merriment grew and Leonard became more and more flustered. These humans affected Spock more than he’d care to admit, and watching them interact brought a sense of contentedness over him. “It’s fucking crazy o clock in the morning, what in the hell could’y’ve done that y’need to confess so bad?”

“Small scheduling error, Bones, no big deal! In my defence, I didn’t realise how late it is, I was reading this really cool book that Galia’s sister sent her, so far it’s been absolutely gripping, can’t put it down-“

“Jim.”

His blue eyes darted around the room nervously as he giggled anxiously. “You don’t have a test tomorrow, Bones, I do. I fucked up and logged it in the PADD you’d loaned me instead of my own PADD, so I guessed you got a reminder and I know your memory is shit outside of your studies, so I figured you’d be up cramming-“

“Jim-boy, what’d you just say? Because if you said what I think you said, I’m going to-“

“Leonard, I would not recommend engaging in a physical altercation with Jim. He has considerable more experience in such matters.”

Spock felt a shiver down his spine as Leonard’s dangerously icy glare turned on him. “Are you sayin’ y’don’t think I can take ‘im, Spock?”

“That is not what he said Bones! C’mon, how bad was it? You got to bond with your roommate, and now my two best friends are on speaking terms, at least. Sounds like a win-win to me!”

“I’m gonna need the two of y’all to get the fuck outta my room, if I’m going to get any sleep at all before tomorrow.” 

Jim’s smirk got even more mischievous, the glint in his eye almost dangerous. “Maybe we’ve planned for you to get no sleep tonight, Bones.”

“I resent your implicating me in your antics, Jim.” Spock was definitely grinning, goddammit! There’s no way a vulcan could manoeuvre their mouths any further into a vague smiling shape.

“You’re not denying it-”

“Both of y’all need to shut up and go to bed, it’s late.” Leonard groused, having had enough of Jim’s playfulness, which was a bit too much for how late it was. Also, the thoughts and feelings he was invoking in Leonard with his meaningless teasing were enough for him to overthink on for the rest of his life. Jim’s pout made Bones fully aware of just how much he wouldn’t mind kissing his best friend, which reminded him of how close he had been to doing just that to his roommate, which reminded him of how it was just his fucking luck to be attracted to the two people he most defiantly shouldn’t be attracted to. The two most unattainable people on campus. He was probably a sadist. Jim sat next to Spock on his bed, and Spock had turned to mutter something in Jim’s ear. On his bed. He was absolutely a sadist. 

“That’s a good point, Spock. I think it’ll be difficult to strong-arm him into spending more time with the two of us as well.”

Spock had the good grace to look up at Leonard with what could be interpenetrated as an apologetic expression. “Those were not my... exact words.”

“I’m a med student, not a socialite, dammit!” Jim was sitting very close to Spock, they looked so right together it was sickening, and Spock was clearly mooning over Jim, and Bones... Bones needed to sleep. Now. “I’ll come over to your place tomorrow after I get out of the labs at six, Jim. If Spock comes, he comes. I don’t care.” He did care. A lot. 

“Seeing as two of us live in these quarters, it would be more logical for us to reconvene here, would it not?” 

“Nah, Jim’s got a better replicator.”

“I’ve also got better taste in holos, so...”

“You absolutely do not-”

“I don’t think watching documentaries counts as a relaxing night in-”

“I shall be there, eighteen-hundred hours.” Spock interrupted, his expression doing nothing to ease the daydreams determinedly banging at Leonard’s subconscious as he looked between the two humans. That odd eyelid-thing slid open and shut twice, which Leonard probably shouldn’t have found cute when he didn’t know whether or not it was hurting Spock. But he did, nonetheless. 

Jim clapped Spock’s shoulder, which stopped the eyelid blinking, and resulted in a rather cat-like freezing of his entire frame. “Excellent!” Jim jumped up, bouncing out the bedroom door. “It’s a date, gentlemen!” And he was gone before Leonard’s outraged spluttering could hold him up. 

“It’s not a- dammit, we’re not- Spock-”

Spock stopped to place his hand on Leonard’s shoulder, deliberately making eye-contact. “To borrow Jim’s turn of phrase, ‘it’s a date’, Leonard.” 

And that rendered Leonard totally speechless, left staring mutely at Spock’s retreating back. What the fuck kind of emotional fuckery had he gotten himself into?  

[twentytwoarts]

Serotonin

A little angsty but also very soft near the end dadspeed fic, im on mobile so i cant add breaks im so sorry

tw: attempted suicide

Little Cato didn't remember how exactly his gun ended up in his hands, but it was there, and he couldn't just put it down. He knew he had grabbed it for a reason. Maybe his reason was so unbelievable to him that he ended up not remembering it. Nevertheless, he took the time to think, so that at least he could have some closure, whatever it may be.

He slowly started remembering little things, like he had just woken up from being knocked out cold. As Little Cato's senses rushed back to him, he could feel how warm his cheeks were from what had to be tears. He must have had a severe breakdown. Not uncommon for him. There were way too many reasons to list that would end up being a novel. He recalled how he retrieved his gun and ended up in his position on the floor, and then, the reason he was doing this all was made clear to him.

That's right.

He was going to kill himself.

He had had these thoughts before, but tonight he was haunted so cruelly that he couldn't stand taking another breath.

He stopped to think whether this was a good idea, but he didn't dwell on it for too long.

So slowly, Little Cato shakily rose his gun to his head, his fixated, glossy eyes not following his hand. Just as he was about to pull the trigger that would set him free…

"Hey bro, I got my hands on this sick movie I used to watch all the time, wanna-?"

There were various clatters that emitted from the dropping of the items Fox was holding. Both of them sat frozen in shock. Little Cato turned his head towards Fox, the gun unmoving. Fox's first action could happen fast, so in a hurry he rushed to pull the trigger, but he was somehow way too slow. His arm that held the gun was already in Fox's mammoth of a hand. "What the hell, man??! What are you thinking???"

Little Cato didn't answer as he continued in his attempts to pull his arm free. His teeth dug deep into Fox's hand, causing him to successfully let go and let out a yelp, but the gun flew free and slid across the floor. Little Cato had to act fast if he wanted to be free, as he knew that cry would garner attention. He rushed for the gun and brought it to his head again. At this point, he was in tears once again.

In a last attempt to prevent Little Cato from shooting himself, Fox reached out as far as he could in an attempt to pull the gun away. He managed to get it away from his head, but…

A loud blast rang out through the halls.

Gary was the last thing Little Cato's fading eyesight saw.

~~~~~~

Gary screamed. There was no better or more descriptive word. It was simply what he did. He dashed into the room and immediately his son was in his arms, a large and gaping wound sitting on the right side of his chest looking mighty pretty. Thank the Lord it wasn't his head another vital area on his body, but this was still really bad.

"FOX, WHAT HAPPENED???" Gary cried as he forced that question out.

"I…I walked in on him tryin' to shoot himself!!"

Gary felt his stomach drop. Nightfall and Ash had arrived at the door when Gary burst out running down the hall towards the medbay, his precious son lifelessly dangling in his trembling arms. Little Cato… wanted to kill himself? This wasn't right. Oh, who was he kidding, of course this was a possibility. After all the kid had been through, you can't really blame him. Still, this was just… hard to come to terms with. Little Cato really tried to kill himself, and at this point Gary had to make sure he couldn't succeed.

He nearly tripped when he broke into the medbay. Quickly, he threw Little Cato down on the bed and screamed at AVA to help him.

Everything became a blur for a short moment after that, and the next thing Gary knew, he was on a chair next to the bed his son occupied. It broke his heart to see him like this. He looked so fragile, and it stung his heart. He put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.

"AVA, what's his status?"

"Little Cato is alive and stable, but he is in a coma."

He set free a sigh of relief and allowed a small smile to come to his face. It hurt him to think about, but he had to scold him when he woke up. Unless someone else can give him better advice, that was his plan as a parent.

~~~~~~

A little more than a day had passed, and Gary was still by his son's side. When Little Cato woke up he was unsure of how he exactly felt. He didn't know whether to be discouraged or relieved that he was still alive. His eyes took a little to fully open, and it took longer for him to just turn his head and look around.

When he noticed Gary was there, he didn't even have time to blink before Gary noticed he was awake. He lifted his head out of his hands and gulped. He stood up swiftly, nearly knocking his chair over. Gary really didn't want to do this, but he knew it was needed.

"What. Were. You. THINKING?!?"

"Wh...what??" Little Cato sat up, startled.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF??? WHY DID YOU THINK THAT WOULD SOLVE YOUR PROBLEMS???"

"I….I….."

"YOU SCARED US ALL TO DEATH, SON. YOU SCARED ME TO DEATH!!! I WAS SO WORRIED, I THOUGHT YOU WERE REALLY GOING TO DIE!!!!" Gary tried not to cry, this was all really tough for him to do.

Little Cato, however, was in tears, sobbing, trying not to choke on them. "I… I'm.. s...sorry…."

"THIS ISN'T OK. NOTHING ABOUT WHAT YOU ATTEMPTED WAS OK. WHAT YOU TRIED WAS STUPID."

He took a deep breath before sitting back down.

"You realize you can come to me whenever you're feeling like that, right? Why didn't you??"

There was no response from the shaking Ventrexian. Only more sobs.

Gary sighed and put his head back in his hands, letting Little Cato cry for a moment while he figured out what to say next. This was really difficult, but… it felt right. He used what he had learned from when his own dad used to scold him. Now came the consolation, he figured, which he was thankful for.

"Little Cato, I know these feelings are hard to deal with, especially in your case, but you need to know that suicide is never the answer. Never has it been the right answer. These feelings will pass, and you'll be happy again, I know it, because you're so, so strong. I love you, and I don't want you bottling things up. I want to help you."

He scooted his chair closer to the bed to put a comforting arm around Little Cato. "You're my son. It's kind of my job to care about you, so please don't make me lose another job, I've lost too many back at home."

Little Cato chucked and leaned into him more. "I'm really sorry dad… I just… I guess I just kind of panicked...-"

"Hey, I know you're sorry, it's ok."

He rubbed his shoulder lovingly, and the two sat in silence while Little Cato calmed down. "You're never alone in this." said Gary, breaking the silence.

"We care about you, and we love having you around." a new voice echoed into the room, and Nightfall approached the two and set a hand on Little Cato's shoulder, right on Gary's own hand. Mooncake floated to Gary's side eagerly. HUE was also in the crowd.

"We'll get through this together." encouraged Fox.

"As a team!" piped in Ash.

"As a squad." Gary smiled.

"...As a team squad." Little Cato completed, a big grin stretching across his face.

No matter what Little Cato had to go through, there were still people he loved that he had to stay alive for. Frankly, he was thankful. Never again would he attempt something like that. As he bathed in the love surrounding him, he felt the first rush of absolute peace in a long time.

[bxstiae]

HOW I RUN MY BLOG

SPEED: fluctuates on my mood. I’m relatively fast? like usually same day reply fast. sometimes it takes me a few days. know that the long it stays in my drafts, the longer i will take on it. my all time record is about 3 years. while granted it doesn’t take that long, don’t be surprised about it. best case scenario, it takes me a couple of weeks, i dont like having things fester. i also sometimes forget too! you are more than welcome to remind me if it seems like i have but please don’t make it a habit. in regards to response time on pms/discord -- short turnover rate. I usually respond to it within the hour. usually within seconds/minutes actually. if i am awake that is. unless im offline and in my happy place, i tend to log out of discord to get away from people when im overwhelmed. blog wise, i dont have him on my app. so messages are only when im on my laptop or have time to check on chrome mobile.  

REPLIES: i dont like drafting them. my dash is slow enough that i can scroll down to it. i will draft it though if i need to. length wise, im an avid writer. i write A LOT. they can get very lengthy at times. i write with a bit of prose -- that prose can get very HEAVY depending on my partners as well. i also format as well. i like heavier formatting without losing the quality of the writing. i dont like one-liners. you will see me with at least two paras or more. please know that i am dyslexic though when it comes to writing, and i have a bad habit of rereading my stuff after i post. so mistakes && errors are a thing for me. i try to catch it when i am rereading as im going through to format the posts. but sometimes things get missed. you are more than welcome to fix some if it is a bad spelling mistake ( better to ask first tho cause i spell with a brit keyboard -- and i specifically choose certain words to be spelt a specific way. )

STARTERS: when i post the starter call, any mutual ( && i really mean ANY of you ) can like it. this goes for if you follow me on multiple blogs. we interact already on one blog? by all means we can interact with one another on your other blog. but if you do, it gives me free reign to do whatever i want. look for my tags to see what i say too. they usually are a key factor in regards to my thought process. i try to get everybody done within reasonable time. dont worry i will never not make a mutual a starter if they like the call. i usually go for the first interaction/meeting with the muse though. if that doesn’t float your boat then you can message me about it. i normally don’t message people in regards to starters because A) im tired, B) i expect you to come to me.

INBOX: inbox is absolutely open to anybody! in fact, if i post a prompt, i ask that you send something in. even if we never interacted! im more versed into throwing the muse into a pre-established relationship. with the inbox, i will sometimes go to you because of that. i really do love to write, && the inbox is a perfect way to send something in without having any strings attached in regards to replies. like i said im an avid writer. i always want to write. sometimes people are slow and i get that. since im faster, i have no problem in doing inbox stuff for you to develop interaction ( aside from plotting ). best way to actually enjoy character interaction for me tbh. cause sometimes threading be hard okay?

SELECTIVITY: i am biased, i will say it now. i have preference over people i talk to ( who i consider my friends ), or people that i like. but that doesnt mean i will blatantly ignore you. people should know that if you talk to me, then the chances are i will give you more attention. sometimes i just click or vibe with people okay? in regards to following. i am on the heavy side of mutuals only and i prefer a slower dash. i give about a week for people to follow back, or ample enough time for them to follow. there will be some people that i will be fine if they arent mutuals though as i like their content. that being said, i try to be super fair to everybody. i give people an equal chance. if i follow you it means i want to interact with you ( there are super rare exceptions ). but go too long without interacting, then i will unfollow/softblock. im not a number for you. i have feelings. and, yes, i will, at random, unfollow those who either dont make me comfortable anymore, or i need time away from them. or im just not getting that vibe anymore. 

WISHLIST: see here && here for some stuff i want. i love his pokemon verse i have. i also love his FE verse i have as well. i have a FE3H AU as well but i will naturally throw him into FEH or FE3H for that verse. i have plotted with a friend in regards to an echoes verse as well. honestly. i just want a lot of stuff for him. i want more wolf interactions. i kinda favour his beast forme anyway. but i also want interactions with the language differences. there is a language barrier with him! but i want those interactions cause he understands you! i have that hc somewhere dug in my blog. gotta find it. other interactions? i want a midna to interact with. link && the links AU?? also what does a man gotta do around here to get people to discuss plots.

HONEST NOTE: if you think im an elitist, then find your way out of the door -- youre probably right and i dont want you here. ive been here for a really long time && i know what i want. all jokes aside though, im tired of people being intimidated by me for different reasons. some people think its my aesthetic ( when really im not that bad ). others are intimidated by the sheer amount of writing i do? like okay?? kindly fuck off please. i write for stress relief. i write to have fun. my idea of fun is writing a lot. if you have a problem with that then sorry but i dont want you here. i have a passion for my muses and if you dont want to hear it, then i dont have time for your complaining. theres an unfollow button. i have a journalism degree so... yea. but really. im just really tired okay. im actually a very sweet person and i wear my heart on my sleeve. anybody who knows me well enough can tell you that. i hate being ignored tbh, so if i find energy && time to like talk to you, at least acknowledge me by saying thank you. btw im not really that much of an an elitist -- i just LOOK like i have a hard shell, but im actually super soft and squishy.

Tagged by: nobody I stole from @pristinette​ Tagging: you do you fam. just @ me as per usual cause pretend i tagged you.

[jisungmark]

@finding-a-lostleo request: Hiiiiii!!! Could you please develop this idea I had in mind. Shownu sitting on the couch, playing games or doing something and you sitting on the floor and he pats your head for not being fussy or bratty. Thank you. Sending you all my love and support *finger heart*

genre: smut/fluff

group: monsta x

warning(s): make out session, dry humping, kinda long, badly written (there’s no keep reading link bc i’m on mobile so if you don’t wanna read, just skip, im sorry!)

“just a few more hours baby. you’re doing so well. thank you,” shownu sweetly said. you wanted to talk back, you wanted to argue, you wanted attention. but instead, you just nodded. you pulled your knees up to your chest as he continued working on school work. college was almost over for him so he wanted to make sure he was on top of everything. you never thought your sophomore year of college would be this way.

dating the senior captain of the football team, who also was the top of his class, who always respected women and didn’t try to get in their pants. calling yourself lucky was definitely an understatement. you loved him and was excited for whatever path came next for him.

but gosh did you want his attention. it didn’t have to be sexual or anything. you just wanted a hug, or a kiss, maybe a tickle or something. but he’s been working on his homework for so long. so fucking long. you glanced back at him. his face was contorted in his confusion and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“you okay nunu?” you asked, turning around fully. he jumped a little, not expecting to hear your voice. his face softened when his eyes fell on your concerned face.

“yes, i’m okay. this problem is just a little hard. i’m gonna finish off this sheet and then i’ll be done for the night. yeah?” he patted your head and you closed your eyes in an attempt to keep that warmth close.

“thank you for understanding baby. such an obedient little princess,” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair.

“thank you.” you whispered, turning back around and snuggling between his legs. your eyes focused on the random movie playing on the tv as you waited for him to finish.

the sound of his pencil running across his paper, the rustling of the papers as he turned to the next problem, his deep groans whenever he got frustrated, the sound of the eraser whenever he felt he felt his first answer was incorrect.

the sounds of shownu doing his very best,

was all putting you to sleep.

you didn’t even stop the heaviness you felt in your eyes as you rested your head on shownu’s thigh. you weren’t sure how much time passed until you were being shaken awake.

“baby girl, i’m finished. wake up.” he whispered directly into your ear. you opened your eyes and it took a moment for the words to register in your mind.

“you’re done?” you questioned, “you’re done!” you yelled as you jumped up into his lap.

“yes i’m done princess,” he laughed as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“i missed you,” you breathed into his skin. your breath sent heat straight to his bulge.

“i missed you more,” he whispered. you pulled away with an innocent smile on your face, unaware of the problem you’ve caused. he brought his hand to the back of your neck and massaged lightly.

“do you want to play now baby?” he questioned, head tilted to the side. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth and slightly nodded your head yes. he pulled you closer until your lips connected. your mind immediately went blank, only focusing on the pillowy lips that were slotted with yours. his hands found their way to your waist and he ground you down on his length. you detached your lips and your head fell to the crook of his neck and you let out a whimper.

“is that good? are you okay?” he wondered, still grinding you down on him. you let out a breathy moan in response.

“yes, so good nunu. so good, please.” you took ahold of his wrists and pulled them off of your hips. he looked at you with a questioning gaze.

“i wanna do it,” you confessed, feeling small under his gaze. he just nodded and placed his hands on the couch. you placed your hands on his chest and bunched up the fabric of his shirt.

his length was so hard, so warm, and so thick between your legs. it dragged deliciously between your lips and across your clit.

you’ve missed him so much and you wanted your release as fast as possible. you leaned forward and attached your lips to his earlobe. and you sucked, ever so slightly. he sucked in a breath of air feeling your warm mouth on his skin.

every moment you two shared was always so sensual. so delicious. and gosh did you love him.

who would’ve known becoming the captain of the debate team freshman year would lead to you meeting shownu.

the jock that wasn’t obsessed with sex, drugs, women or money.

the jock that helped you whenever you tripped after a debate meeting.

the jock who is helping you break out of your shell.

the jock let you know just how beautiful you were.

the jock that you fell in love with and didn’t regret it.

the jock that broke the stereotypes of being “a jock”.

“baby you okay?” he asked, completely concerned with your zoned out expression at such a time.

“yeah i’m okay, i just- i just love you so much,” you attached your lips to his once again. his hands found your waist as he kissed you back with the same amount of passion.

“i love you more baby,” he smiled against your lips. you let him do the rest of the work. you let your face fall to his neck again feeling your high approach much faster than usual. he could sense that you were close and moved you along his length faster.

“i’m so close, please.” you shook in his arms.

“hold on baby, just a little bit longer. i know you can do it.” he encouraged quietly. you just nodded, trying your best to hold it in. your legs began to shake and they attempted to close in on him.

“i can’t hold it in,” you whined. he gave you the green light and you both let go at the same time. it was so warm, wet, sensual and just down right- beautiful.

“that’s it princess, that’s it. that’s my good girl,” he slowly dragged you against his length until he finished his load. your body shook again, electricity shooting through your veins when your sensitive clit came in contact with his softening length through your clothing.

“thank you, thank you, thank you.” you said quietly as your body began to relax.

“of course,” he said, kissing the top of your head. you pulled back and looked at him with a soft smile.

“let’s go get cleaned up and we can cuddle after.” he offered picking you up bridal style. you just snuggled into his chest and let him carry you to the bathroom.

thank you for requesting love! requests are open!

[mimymomo]

Unremarkable, you? Never. ~ Angst Parr part 2

Me? Two parts in one day? More likely than you think! This one gets kinda sad and trippy so prepare for that. I really wished mobile didn’t get rid of the read under line thing...

Part 1

Catherine was standing front and center on a stage.

The spotlights hot and blinding making it impossible to see into the crowd. She felt herself start to sweat and shake from the increased heat. She raised her microphone but no sounds could escape her mouth, it was as if her voice had been put on mute. She could hear the boos and stifled laughs from the audience.

“Sing!”

“Booo!”

“Get off the stage!”

Then suddenly, more lights flashed and came to life, revealing Catherine, Anne, Jane, Anna and Kitty. The boos change into waves of cheers. Cathy smiled in relief at the five but the feeling was short lived as they glared back to her in response. “Guys…”

“Why are YOU here Catherine?” Aragon asked curtly.

“To perform. I’m part of Six-”

“Ha, did you hear that?” Jane snorted, arms crossed, “she thinks she’s still needed here.”

Catherine gripped her microphone as Anna and Katherine laughed in the background, “but I’m-”

“‘But I’m, but I’m’...listen to her mates,” Anna mocked. “She sounds so pathetic.”

“‘But I’m Catherine Parr’, was that what you were going to say,” Katherine chided. Catherine gave no response. “Doesn’t matter, we have alternates who can replace you. And in my opinion, sound much better than you ever could.” In that moment more stage lights came up and shone down at the end of stage, unveiling Grace, Courtney and Vicki, posed menacingly and sneering in Catherine’s direction. She was, she was being...replaced.

Tears filled her eyes. Abruptly, Catherine felt a surging sharp pain in her legs and fell to the floor. She glanced down to the source of her pain and through her tears she watched in horror as her legs slowly disappeared, leaving nothing but a dark, dusty ash in its place. She let violent scream, so loud and shrill it stung her vocal cords. As she continued to fade away, Catherine saw Anne step forward and saunter towards her. “Anne! Oh Anne please, please help me!” Catherine begged. The pain now reached her pelvis.

Anne bent down, her and Catherine now face to face. Anne reached her hand out and cupped Catherine’s face and Cathy sighed, burrowing her head into her girlfriend’s palm seeking any sort of comfort she could find. Suddenly, Anne ripped her hand away causing Catherine to jerk up. They lock eyes: Catherine’s confused and desperate, Anne’s dark and sharp, almost reminding Cathy of a snake. “Anne…?”

“Poor stupid and useless Catherine Parr. Did you actually think I’d miss you once you’re gone?” Anne stood up and walked back to the group. Midway she paused and spun around, “I thought you were much more brilliant than that.”

That was the nail in the coffin.

Catherine felt the speed of her body’s deterioration rapidly accelerate, her stomach and chest completely gone. “Anne, no please! Guys! Guys help me!” The Queens just laughed as the rest of Catherine vanished. Catherine cried as the last of her limbs faded away, until everything was dark.

“Ahh!” Catherine screamed, jolting up in her bed. She gasped for breath, gripping the front of her night shirt tightly in her fist. Broken whimpers slipped out into the dark of her room. “Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream,” Catherine repeated trying to slow down her rapid breathing. She could taste the salt from her tears.

She had no excuse for crying. Anne and Katherine, who had regular nightmares and terrors, had been through so much worse than her. She had no right to cry in the night over something so childish as a completely fake bad dream. She lied back down, silent tears dripped from her eyes. No sound except the occasional sniffle or whimper ever slipped out.

She didn’t know how long she laid there like that with her eyes wide open, minutes or hours. In the dark she silently hoped, prayed, that someone; Anne, Jane, Catherine, anyone would come and find her. Wrap her up in their arms and whisper in her ear that everything would be alright. That she was important to them. That she mattered.

No one came to her room that night.

...

“Wait Cathy’s not coming to the show tonight?” Anne yells nearly knocking over her bowl of cereal and Anna’s tea and Katherine’s juice.

“Quit yelling,” Aragon snapped.

“I got a message from Courtney saying that Cath had asked her to fill in for the night,” Jane answered from the spot near the stove. “Think she had a bad night or just didn’t get enough sleep.”

“That so?” Anne pondered, “I’m gonna check on her!”

“Oh, let her rest Anne-” Jane started but Anne was already halfway up the stairs. She made her way down the hall and knocked gently on Catherine’s door.

“Hey CathyP, you feeling okay?” Anne asked slowly walking into the dark, unlit room.

Catherine was lying on her side facing opposite of the door, not moving. “Catherine?” she called again stepping closer to the smaller queen’s eerily still body. At a closer inspection, Anne could see Catherine was wide awake, her eyes glued to her phone screen. The white artificial light really showing off the dark baggy circles and tear streaks under her eyes. “Oh babe,” Anne cried, climbing onto the bed next to Catherine, “what’s wrong?”

Catherine flipped her phone around so Anne could read the title, “that’s a video of our performance on that bloody talk show the other day.”

Catherine turned the phone back, “Kizzie Daniels says ‘Who is that new girl singing? Did they replace the old girl who wore blue? I think I like her much better than the old one. A lot more.” Her voice was raspy and hoarse.

“What?”

“And this one here by gay edgepriest 669,” Catherine said ignoring Anne’s baffled response, showing a new video of a Megasix performance dated a few weeks back. “‘Wow that bitch in blue should stop getting so close to the camera. You’re not that talent boo, get out of my face.’”

“What the hell...Catherine give me that,” Anne commanded snatching the phone out of the girls hands. Catherine didn’t put up much of a fight to retrieve it back. “Why are you reading these? You know they’re not true. You do realize that right?” Catherine just shrugged causing Anne to sigh, “well I’m telling you that they’re not true. Besides, you really going to believe a person who goes by the screen name ‘straight edgepriest 669?’”

“Gay edgepriest.”

“That prick lost the right to call themselves gay.”

Catherine snorted but remains verbally silent. Anne, despite wanting to, knew better than to try and press a serious conversation with her right now. Instead she chose to place Catherine’s phone on the bedside table and lie down next to her, wrapping her arms tightly around Catherine’s midsection. “Hey,” she whispered into the curly haired girl’s ear, “I can tell you didn’t sleep well last night. So can you try and get a bit of rest for me? Please babe?”

Catherine didn’t say anything but relaxed, snuggling closer in Anne’s embrace. Anne kissed Cath’s shoulder, then the back of her neck and closed her eyes. She fell asleep a mere hour later. She stayed there until she had to leave for the show.

“Anne. Anne,” Anna called, shaking her awake. Anne peeled her eyes open and wiped the sleep crust and thin line of drool from her face.

“Wha?”

“It’s show time and your napping in Catherine’s bed without her here?” Anne was wide awake to that revelation. She moved her hand to where Catherine was but felt nothing, just a cool sheet.

“Where’s Cathy at?”

“You don’t know?” Anna questioned pointedly, “how do you not know? Weren’t you in her with her for hours?”

“I was asleep! I thought we both were…” Anne murmured.

Anna groaned into her hands, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something, don’t worry so much Anne.”

Anne frowned but slithered out of Catherine’s bed, “yeah, okay.”

“Come on, before Aragon blows a fuse,” Anna joked hustling out the room. Anne walked out the door pausing shortly before shutting it. She took one last glance around the room then closes the door and runs down the stairs and to the car. ‘Catherine would be fine.’

What Anne failed to notice that she would come to regret later was Catherine’s phone was once again missing from her bedside table.

Tag: @a-slightly-cracked-egg (im sorry you probably don’t want to be constantly tagged in all this)

[k-drabblings]

letters to you (pt. 2)

KIM TAEHYUNG (V) X READER Type | Genre: slice of life au | fluff/angst Word Count: 1738 A/N: it’s been hard finding time to update in general but i have a soft spot for this fic! hope you enjoy. 

One

After Taehyung's first visit, we managed to keep in touch until somewhere around early springtime. The Kakao messages got increasingly sparse as he got closer to his mysterious debut date and college examinations loomed over my head as I entered my final year of high school.  The flutters I had felt were long forgotten in lieu of books and essays. 

It wasn't until summer that I was reminded of Taehyung. Auntie Kim came barging into our house bright and early with excited shouts of his debut. 

I was already awake, studying my butt off upstairs in the lovely solitude of my room. 

"He's releasing the album tomorrow! Tomorrow! My Taehyungie is finally debuting!" 

My heart couldn't help but stir a little at his name, as if it was remembering an old habit. I hesitantly reached for my phone, wondering if it would be out of place to send him a congratulatory message.

[07:55AM] To: Taehyung Grats, superstar. It's about time.

To my surprise, the reply came instantly.

[07:55AM] From: Taehyung Dont tell me my mom woke u all up this early to tell u...  [07:55AM] From: Taehyung But thats just like her isnt it [07:56AM] From: Taehyung Goddamn shes embarrassing [07:56AM] From: Taehyung But thx ;)

I smiled, heart skipping a little faster, but I decided to play it cool and leave him hanging. It didn't necessarily warrant a response anyway. 

It was more than two hours later into my reading when my phone buzzed.

[10:13AM] From: Taehyung Im coming home for a few days next month.

[10:13AM] From: Taehyung Excited to see me? ;)

My stomach suddenly twisted into a knot, butterflies I hadn't felt for months threatening to creep back. Goddamn him and his flirty winking emoticons. 

[10:21AM] To: Taehyung Not really 

[10:21AM] To: Taehyung But you can come anyway I guess

I wondered if I had waited an ample enough amount of time to not look so desperately eager to answer him. Childish, I know, but I couldn’t help it.  I returned to my studies with a renewed energy, suddenly feeling empowered by the thought of having something to look forward to.

Taehyung looked so different that it was hard to believe only two seasons had passed since I last saw him. He was the slightest bit less lanky and his hair was dyed blonde. God, who would have thought he'd look so good with Barbie hair? I stared at him in silence for a few moments before giving him an awkward wave.

"Y/N!"

I could have sworn his voice got deeper, but I didn't have time to mull over the thought really as he scooped me into a big embrace. It knocked the wind out of me -- in a good way. "Nice to see you too, Taehyung," I mumbled into his chest. He smelled like laundry with a hint of musk.  It was strange seeing him in shorts and a tee, legs and arms so bare. Had he always been so tan? 

It was our mother's ideas to catch up over lunch, and although my books were practically screaming at me, I decided to be a little careless and enjoy some time with my long lost friend. It seemed like Taehyung always brought out the irresponsible side of me.

"So how've you been?" Taehyung asked expectantly.

I had never been a fan of small talk, but there was no other way to really begin the conversation. "Alright, I guess. Studying mostly. Actually, only studying.."

"Ah, so once I left, you were no longer a genius."

I couldn't help but crack a smile. 

"No boyfriend?" 

"My textbooks are my boyfriends." I sighed, feeling the nervous guilt of ditching my studies gnawing away at me. I was so determined to get top scores, go to one of the top universities in Seoul, and then the world would be my oyster. It was somewhat reckless to be here comfortably chatting the time away with Taehyung.

He smirked. "Wow, what a player. Didn't think you were like that, Y/N." 

I rolled my eyes before a chuckle escaped my lips. "Enough about my boring life. I bet yours has been crazy exciting. With your debut, and... shows... and singing?" It was too obvious I didn't know anything about the idol lifestyle.

"Yes. Shows and singing. Hit the nail right on the head," he joked. There was a brief pause before he sighed. "It's actually more like crazy busy than crazy exciting." I watched his still-beautiful fingers run through his dyed locks. "But yeah on top of shows and singing, it's a lot of promotions right now... We're trying to win Rookie of the Year and just get ourselves more out there... Grow our fanbase, you know?"

He sounded so desperate for a moment that I almost reached out to touch his hand in comfort. I didn't know anything really, but I could tell he worked his ass off every day, and he was hoping more than anything that his efforts would pay off in the end. I could sympathize with that -- we were kind of in the same boat when I thought of it like that, and it was comforting.

"How long are you here for this time?" I asked timidly. 

"Three days." A loud sigh left his lips. "I know, short as fuck." He was biting his lip nervously, eyes wandering for few seconds before landing on mine. "And I know you're probably busy as hell, but couldn't you make some time for your fave Kpop idol?" A cheeky grin broke out onto his face, and I was instantly reminded of the Taehyung I had grown so comfortable with last winter. And just like that, it was so easy to fall back into his trap.

My books were neglected as I spent the next few days with Taehyung. It was like we had fallen back into our old habits -- going to the cafe in the morning, watching I Hear Your Voice or some other drama in the afternoon, and driving to the mountains or downtown in the evening. 

He still took his coffee much too sweet. And with the way he comfortably settled in next to me besides the couch, shoulder to shoulder, it was like nothing had changed. By the second day, it felt like he had never even left.

I loved the drives the most. The skies were clear and starry, and with the wind blowing through my hair, going anywhere felt like an adventure. The scenic view of town from the cliffs was different now that it was summer. It was so green and lush, as if the colors had all become more vibrant now that he was back. The days were longer and warm, so we spent more time outside. He treated me to ice cream every day because he was "now a working man," as he called it. 

"I missed this," he announced with a sigh, laying back into the grass.

"Hm?" I absentmindedly continued to poke around for the cake bits in my ice cream.

"Just chilling around like this. With you."

The last two words were said so nonchalantly, but they resonated so deeply in my silly heart that my entire body tensed up. 

"You're leaving tomorrow, Taehyung." Was I saying it to remind him... or myself?

He rose from his position and gestured towards the car. "It's good though. You need to study anyway." He grinned. "Genius or nerd, whichever you are, I'm sure you still need to get back to your books. The college exams are in a few months, aren't they?" 

I hadn’t known, but he had overheard my mother yelling at me the previous morning for spending all day with him. It hadn't stopped him from distracting me all day today though.

I nodded, swallowing nervously. I didn't want to think about my looming tests and their gravity on my future outlook. With Taehyung, I could enjoy a reprieve from it all. I didn't want him to leave.

"You'll be fine," he murmured softly, hand messily patting my head. "We'll both work hard, and we'll see each other again before we know it."

My eyes were hopeful as I looked up at his golden face. "When's the next time you'll be back?" He wasn't even gone yet, and I was already looking forward to our reunion.

"Hopefully the holidays." His mumbles were laced with uncertainty, and he tried to give me a reassuring smile. "I'll try to keep in touch, Y/N. Much more than last time."

The way he wrapped his arm around my shoulder made me almost believe he would keep his promise.

He didn't. It was only a few days after he returned to Seoul that the texts stopped coming. I wasn't surprised. From what I heard from Auntie Kim, his group was getting ready for their comeback, and I wasn't in a position to chase for replies either. I was frantically catching up with what I missed, but it didn't help that I'd occasionally get distracted by the thoughts of him already forgetting me.

The leaves turned from green to yellow, oranges, and reds before turning brown and withering off. My birthday passed uneventfully with a casual text from Taehyung. I traded in loose shorts for leggings and sweats, and pulled out my winter gear from the back of the closet. Other than my clothes, however, nothing changed much. Day in and day out, my nose was buried in textbooks, my hand deathly sore from writing notes.

It felt unreal when the examination day finally came. I woke up like any other day, but instead of heading to the school library with books in tow, I headed there with only a few last minute notes and a pencil case. Basically every other kid in my year was walking down the streets with me, hearts nervously thumping as we all knew the test we faced would determine our future.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I was reminded to turn it off. But at the sight of the familiar name that hadn't graced my screen in months, my heart fluttered.

[08:16AM] From: Taehyung Good luck genius

It was nice to think that he was somewhere in the capital city thinking about me this early in the morning. 

With a happy heart, I powered down my mobile device. Perhaps this exam would be my ticket to Seoul, a little closer to Taehyung.

[not-a-gotham-villain]

Part 2

TW: Death, Extreme violence, slight swearing, Guns, Kinves

(i cant do under the cut on mobile so be ready to scroll sorry..)

Her broken Jaguar mask works surprisingly well considering what it's been through. Perhaps it's because whoever sees her face now doesn't live to tell the tale. She can only think of one time anyone got away alive seeing her face over the past Three days.

She had walked her way into the iceberg lounge an hour before penguin hightailed it out because her tip line had gone cold and she could feel how close she was to finding Falcone. Needless to say, Penguin was not happy to see her.

"Ah, Jaguar! Long time no see my dear!" His voice was condescending and his men were armed. "I've heard you've caused quite ruckus all around town recently. Any reason you've stopped by?"

"Buzz off Penguin. I'm not here to kill your goons."

"Character development." Nygma quipped. He was seriously unnecessary and proved to test Jade's already thin patience.

"I just need information. My wells gone... dry." she ground out.

Penguin huffed a laugh before he relaxed his guards and gestured Jade to sit next to him. She refused.

"Falcones at 213 30 Primrose street. Red warehouse."

".....how did you know who i was after?" Jade asked.

"Because i've worked with you since you were definitely not 17, and the only person you ever talked about was him. I did the math."

Jade's eyes narrowed as she collected her things. "You aren't gonna try and stop me, are you?"

Penguin laughed, a little bitterly, a little mockingly. "I'm not sentimental dearie. I will say though," his face got deadly serious then "that his son's died. You two are the only ones left."

Jade stared at penguin for a bit before heading for the door.

"Just for the record, Im sorry Jade. I truly am. Most of us had no idea." Penguin said it a way so plaintively he could have almost mean it.

Jade slammed the door shut on her way out.

☠︎

Falcone's private room security is painfully understaffed. A single man, a whisp really, stands outside his office door.

"What's your name kid?"

Jade resents that.

"Jade Dawes."

"Really? Ya know that used to be a DA's name. Till we bumped him and his family off. You knew him?"

Jade really resents that.

"A little."

He gives her a look before searching through a clipboard, as if Falcone was a legitimate buissness man and not a Class-S Mob Boss. Jesus, she was already planning on killing the guy but he's just making it too easy.

"You got an appointment?"

"Yeah. Five years in the making."

"Wha-"

The silenced bullet goes cleanly through airheads brain. She wasn't really planning on killing him, but everyone else in the buildings dead, so she guesses due diligence won't hurt.

The door opens as millions of others close.

"Janessa. Pleasant surprise. Please do sit down." The man who says the name she hasn't heard in five years looks the same now as he did then. Falcone is still tall, and lean, and his voice still reminds her of beach houses in the summer, before her father had found out about his job and their lives had gone to hell.

"I'm not here to talk Uncle Carmine." She hopes the title comes off as mocking. From the way he reacts, it does. "You know what I'm here for."

Falcone stares at her for a few more seconds before he sighs deep and turns away from his windowed perch towards her.

"Will this" he gestures to her aimed gun with his bourbon "really accomplish what you want Janessa?"

"It doesn't matter what I want." She lies "Its what you deserve." He's far enough away so that she doesn't need to strain her head too much to see his face.

"We are the only ones left little one. Your family is long gone. So is my wife. Mario died Saturday night. If you were to do this, you would be all alone." He's taking languid steps her way, and with each one she feels smaller and younger.

"You killed my family Carmine." She sets her jaw in determination.

"And your family locked away mine, an eye for an eye my dear."

"You shot them right in front of me! You burnt their bodies in a pile! I can't even go near restaurants without -"

She cuts herself off, her voice beginning to shake.

"Piccola, that is why we must start over. Live a new life. Be like my daughter again. Don't you remember how it could be?"

Unbidden, memories of a lifetime ago crop up. She remembers sitting silently at the beach, just seven years old, watching as uncle Carmine taught her how to make a drip sand castle. She remembers thinking he was the greatest man she'd ever seen, right after her dad. Her heart sinks.

"That-that can't happen now. We're-it's-it's all too far gone." Falcone is right up in front of her now. She feels seven years old again next to his six foot three.

He sighs again, and places a hand on her shoulder. She thinks she might cry.

"Well then my dear, do you think we should get it all done with together? After all, what did you have planned for after you killed me?" He points his gun to her temple and her gun to his own.

Jade is silent. Her head is racing. She needs to decide.

Needless to say, she doesn't get to.

Glass shatters everyone, and Falcone is pushed out of her line of sight by something large and black. Upon further inspection she realizes it's Batman. If Jade was in any physical or emotional capacity to she would scream.

"Get away from her you slimy bastard!"

They tussle for a while, a second, a minute, an hour, forty days and forty nights? She can't tell. However eventually Falcone's gun is confiscated by the more powerful Batman and the former is left slumped on the floor, defeated.

"You should let her decide who to go with, Dark Knight." They must have had some important conversation about Jade's autonomy while she was out.

The Bat tenses again, starting at the hands and working up to his temple and then down again. It's strange, being able to see the Batman in full detail. She never got to catalog his responses to jabs or taunts. Yes, she's worked with Batman before, but at the time he was more concerned with Tori's stubborn demands to join then properly introducing himself to Jade. (The green beast whose name she refuses to say spins in her stomach at a very inconvenient time)

"Fine." The Batman spits out. "Jade, what do you want to do?" His voice is paradoxically soft and terse.

"How—how did you find me?" It's not what she meant to say, but it works. "Were-were you tracking me?!"

The responding silence should make her feel indignant, however she is also feeling very overwhelmed.

"He does that often piccola, no respect for personal privacy." Falcone makes no effort to move, slumped up against the wall. His arm is covering his stomach, he's bleeding.

"You stabbed him!" Jade's voice comes out more panicked then she wanted.

"Come here la mia piccola farfalla."

"Jade.." Batman says.

Jade ignores him.

"Zio.." her italian's a little rusty, but she seems to get the message across.

"Listen my little butterfly. We must move on from this." He places a calloused hand on her cheek. "My empire is all but collapsed now, thanks in part to you. Come with me, we can rebuild in Italy, or perhaps just live. You can find a good husband and settle down. I could finally have grandchildren. Please, let me be your Uncle again."

Jade is shaking like a leaf now and she prays she isn't going to cry. "I can't Zio, not after what you did."

Falcone sighs "Well, thats alright, I was going to die anyways."

Jade feels more than see's the knife slip out of his pocket. She acts on instinct, and before Batman can say anything there are three shots ringing out into the night.

Falcones hand goes limp, and falls to the floor.

Jade does the only thing she can do in this situation. She screams.

☠︎

Jade can't tell how long she screamed before she started to sob, but it must have been a long time, because she doesn't get her senses back until she's speeding down an avenue in the Batcar.

She thinks she remember him carrying her. Is she really that light now? She must be, she cant remember the last time she ate.

"Ah. You're awake. I'm getting you to your apartment, but I'm going to be stripping it out. All your identifying objects need to go, otherwise the gangs will track you."

Batman wont look at her, but she thinks he looks the tiredest she's ever seen him.

"Why?" she can't form anymore words than that. He seems to understand.

"With the stunt you've pulled over the last few days, the crime families will be worse than ever trying to fix themselves up, and they'll be aching for blood. So no more Vigilante work of any sort, no more crime, hell, don't go out without asking me first. I'll set up an allowance so you can quit your job, and I'll drop off some old clothes of the robins for you to wear. Jaguar and NightFawn are dead, you hear me?"

She sits silently, taking in the new information. She can't feel anything.

"Am I adopted?"

Batman laughs. "Not exactly." They pull up to her apartment complex's fire escapes. "You're almost home." He walks out of the drivers side and circles over to pick Jade up out of the passengers seat. She'd be embarrassed if she wasn't so empty.

"I don't have a home." She says. She's still crying, she doesn't know why.

"You will one day kid, you will."

[blookmallow]

s....scary dream :’ ) idk how to readmore cut on mobile and dont wanna get up and get my laptop but uh content warning for like, demons or something. scary dolls. seems inevitable my brain would do this to me eventually lmao now that im awake and know it wasnt real im fine tho

so anyway. in the dream i was... i think at work or at some other thrift store and an older lady was looking at this pretty china doll with an elaborate green dress, which was moving, but i think i assumed it was a wind up or something even though remembering it now it definitely wasnt moving like a wind up doll

the head looked kind of weird, painted a little oddly and didnt seem to sit right on it

the lady wanted it though and in the process of getting it down, it broke

i heard the crash but didnt see it, and just saw a mass of green fabric and broken pieces when i went to help her

she was very distraught and i, being a person who normally likes dolls, understood the concern (i inherently have strong ‘you should never break a doll’s face’ feelings irl, broken dolls stress me out) and told her maybe it could be repaired

i go looking through the pieces to see how bad the damage is and realize the doll’s head cracked completely off, and there was another head inside it - the face was blank, but i could tell by the shape of the hair it was a pennywise doll

i pulled it out from the huge green dress and found it had his outfit too, and was absolutely flabbergasted by the whole thing - had someone tried to mod a pennywise doll into another doll? built him a Disguise? why was the face blank?

the lady decided to take him anyway and went on her way, but a few minutes later i saw the same doll back on a shelf, head intact again somehow. i tried to take a picture, which i later realized came out as a couple second long video of the doll but with a bizarrely superimposed blurry image of the old woman’s face over its own

i was baffled as to how she got it back together and picked it up to look at the head

it clicked and spun to reveal another face, sort of like those japanese puppets that change to become a demon

i couldnt figure out how it worked and switched the face around a few times. every time there was a different face, and it never seemed to circle back around to the first one again. i kept turning it thinking it had to run out eventually - until the white head suddenly turned black, and the faces became angrier

the head came off in my hands (there was no longer a pennywise head inside it either) and turned gray white with blacked out eyes

it started screaming and i threw it in a panic, but then went to retrieve it feeling responsible for it at this point

nobody else seemed to notice this happening either

when i found it it had flattened into a kind of screen projecting the same ghostly black eyed face

i knew it wasnt just a weird doll at this point and was sure i was dealing with an angry ghost, or a demon, or something, and was in a panicked state so i couldnt think of anything to do but shout NO NO NO NO NO and shove it onto another shelf (the intent was to command it to stop, showing it i wasnt afraid of it, but it didnt really come out that way, because i Was)

it started making a weird robotic screeching noise and was projecting something with a syringe that looked alarmingly physical, like it had produced a syringe rather than just projecting one

i went to try to find someone to tell about this whole thing (since nobody seemed to have. noticed all that happening) and realized there were at least like 6 more dolls with the same ill fitting heads on the shelves