#retractable syringes

[acpharms]

A & C Pharma Specialities is fast emerging in the global pharmaceutical industry for building excellent relations and an active network with many of the world's major Pharma Companies.   Driven by dedicated 2nd and 3rd generation pharma industry entrepreneurs with over 75 years of cumulative experience, we are connected nationally and internationally to source, support and serve our international customers in fulfilling their multi-faceted requirements.

[joowee-feftynn]

so here's a little bit of an overhaul of my wing design. I made them more similar to pterosaur wings with the general structure of it (ft. n's wings again)

So i figured that if i was gonna make a redesign of disassembly drone wings i'd have to discard the bird wing structure entirely, so i went with a pterosaur and bat inspired design and i'm pretty satisfied with it :]

[huh-i-guess]

Fever

(Task force 141 x F!reader)

Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.

“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.

“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.

“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab. 

“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret. 

“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.

“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling. 

“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.

“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended. 

“Listen I-” 

You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.” 

“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order. 

“Lass I don-”

“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab. 

You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind.  I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can. 

Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.

“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”. 

“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”

“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.

“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”

“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared. 

“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.

“Got the documents and drives, sir.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”

“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?

“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time. 

A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know. 

Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state. 

As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings. 

Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.

“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.

“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then. 

“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”

“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped. 

The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.

“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground. 

“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.

“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house. 

---

“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.

“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.

“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.

“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned. 

“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said. 

“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected. 

“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes. 

“Oh shit.”

“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.

“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change. 

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.

“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth. 

“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said. 

---

When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you. 

“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear.  Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit. 

“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed.  When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment. 

You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”

“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles.  You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more. 

You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you  pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.  

---

“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team. 

“Did you lad?” Price probed. 

“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”

“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth. 

“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly. 

“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has. 

“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied. 

“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.

“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.

“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality. 

---

You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.  

“Jesus, Simon.” 

“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs. 

“Simon, please.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”

“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”

“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face. 

“I mean it. Please help me.”

“Just my fingers darling.” 

“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants.  Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he’d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit. 

“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely. 

“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal. 

“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers. 

“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing. 

“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”

You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.

“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.

[dutifullycoralcollector]

Auto-retractable Safety Syringe Market is poised to achieve continuing growth During Forecast Period 2023-2030 |BD, Medtronic, Retractable Technologies, Globe Medical Tech, Revolutions Medical, etc

The auto-retractable safety syringe market refers to the segment of the medical devices industry that manufactures and distributes syringes that have an automatic retraction mechanism built into the needle. This mechanism prevents the needle from being reused or accidentally sticking someone after use, which can help to reduce the risk of needlestick injuries and the spread of blood-borne diseases such as HIV and hepatitis.

For Download Free Sample Link Here:-https://www.marketinforeports.com/Market-Reports/Request-Sample/398053

Auto-retractable safety syringes are becoming increasingly popular in healthcare settings due to the many benefits they offer over traditional syringes. For example, they can reduce the risk of needlestick injuries for healthcare workers, reduce the spread of blood-borne diseases, and improve patient safety. Additionally, they can help healthcare facilities save money by reducing the need for expensive post-exposure prophylaxis treatments and workers’ compensation claims.

The global auto-retractable safety syringe market is expected to continue to grow in the coming years due to increasing awareness of the risks associated with traditional syringes and the benefits of using auto-retractable safety syringes. The market is highly competitive and includes both established medical device companies and new players looking to enter the market with innovative products.

[earlysunshines]

read your mind

kim minji x fem!reader

synopsis: minji nearly slices your head off upon your first meeting and it creates this weird unspoken tension that somehow draws you two closer.

warnings: wolverine!minji ; jean grey!reader ; xmen au ; blood, violence, trauma, fighting... everything that comes w x-men ; angst if u squint ; minji is still a loser in this one ; only some of this (very little) actually correlates to the x-men plot i just twisted everything LOLLL ; pacing iffy but lowk slowburn ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread!!!

a/n: had pneumonia three months ago, rewatched four x-men movies in two days, created this, ghosted, then decided to continue lololol ALSOwe’re going to ignore the fact that jean grey and scott r canon and that whole triangle bc this is MYY spinoff and MYYY fic…

minjeong and wonbin had brought in a girl, barely conscious, her body limp as they laid her on the lab table. metal blades protruded from her knuckles, glinting ominously under the fluorescent lights. as you watched, the blades retracted back into her skin, leaving behind deep cuts that healed almost instantly, the flesh knitting together as if nothing had happened.

gosh, you think, brows knitting at the sight.

you stood beside the bed, a syringe in hand, brow furrowed in concentration. the girl on the table had clearly been through hell—minjeong and wonbin had found her unconscious, battered and bruised—but the way her body had healed so rapidly, so unnaturally, left you with no choice but to sedate her. if only to prevent her from doing more harm to herself, or to others. you hesitated for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, trying to reconcile the delicate features of her face with the lethal power hidden beneath her skin. taking a deep breath, you carefully lowered the needle toward her arm.

minji’s consciousness flickered in and out, the world around her a blur of shapes and sounds that made no sense. her senses were overwhelmed—the cold touch of metal on her forearm, the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic filling her nose. her muscles tensed, every fiber of her being screaming at her to fight, to protect herself, even as her mind struggled to make sense of what was happening.

just as the needle grazed her skin, minji's eyes snapped open, wild and feral. in an instant, her hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that made you gasp, pain shooting up your arm. the syringe slipped from your fingers, clattering to the floor, forgotten as you were yanked forward.

before you could react, minji had you restrained, her arm across your neck, cutting off your air. she pulled you close, her breath hot against your ear, the pressure of her forearm against your throat tightening as the blades from her knuckles sprang out again, glinting dangerously in the corner of your vision. they were mere millimeters from your neck, close enough that you could feel the cold metal against your skin, close enough that you dared not move.

her breathing was ragged, her chest heaving as she held you against her, her eyes wide and unfocused, caught somewhere between fear and anger. she didn't speak, but the threat was clear in the way her muscles coiled, ready to strike. every instinct in your body screamed at you to struggle, to get free, but the sharpness of the blades against your throat kept you frozen in place.

“who the hell are you and where the hell am i?”

you look terrified for a moment, only a second or two before you adapt to the situation, tensing when the blades press more. 

“maybe if you get your goddamn knives away from my throat, then i’d tell you.” minji hears, but the thing is, you haven’t opened your mouth at all.

she looks at you close, hearing the choked-out breath before letting go of you completely. you fall to the ground and cough out as she runs off, catching your breath.

minji has no idea where she is. she’s run out the room, but where exactly? she doesn’t know. the place is too bright, the lights glaring down at her from the ceiling. the halls are empty, eerily so, with a cold, metallic sheen to everything around her. it feels sterile, lifeless, like a lab from some dystopian nightmare. 

she looks down and realizes she’s only in a sports bra and sweats, her skin prickling at the chill in the air. small tabs are stuck to her body, wires hanging from them. without thinking, she rips them off, the adhesive pulling at her skin but she doesn’t care. she’s more focused on figuring out where she is, what’s happened to her.

scanning her surroundings, minji’s eyes dart around frantically. she spots something in the distance—suits, like the kind you’d see in a high-tech facility, lined up behind glass. her heart pounds in her chest as she walks cautiously toward them, every nerve in her body on edge. as she moves, something catches her eye—a little shelf with a zip-up hoodie on it. she snatches it up, slipping it on quickly, desperate to cover herself, to feel even a little bit more secure.

she continues down the hall, her eyes flicking from side to side, taking in every detail of this strange, sterile place. the walls, the floors, even the ceiling—all the same dull metallic gray, reflecting the harsh light in a way that makes everything seem flat and lifeless.

“where are you going?” a voice suddenly asks, cutting through the silence—a different one this time. minji flinches, her breath catching in her throat. she doesn’t recognize the voice, and it sends a jolt of fear through her. without thinking, she retreats deeper into the corridor, ducking behind a small entrance area, peeking out cautiously to see if anyone’s coming. 

her heart races, the fear pounding in her ears as she scans the hall, but it’s empty. no sign of anyone. she’s about to move again when a door behind her slides open with a soft hiss. she jumps, spinning around just in time to hear a faint voice:

 “over here!” 

minji hesitates, then steps toward the open door, curiosity and fear at war within her. she peers into the small space beyond, a strange room she doesn’t recognize. it’s not much, just a small chamber, but something about it feels… inviting. cautiously, she steps inside, and the door closes behind her with a soft click. 

when the door opens again, minji steps out, and the environment has completely changed. she’s no longer in the cold, metallic hallway. instead, she’s in what looks like an old mansion, the kind you’d see in old movies, all dark wood and faded carpets, and the air thick with the scent of old books and polished wood.

“where are you going? over here…” the voice whispers again, closer this time. minji’s fear spikes. she looks around, eyes wide, trying to find the source of the voice, but there’s no one. she bolts, running down the hall, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she searches for a place to hide. she hears voices up ahead, the excited chatter of children, and she panics, diving behind a wooden pillar to avoid being seen. 

her breathing is heavy, her body trembling as she presses herself against the wood, praying they don’t find her. she peeks out from behind the pillar, watching the group of kids pass by, their voices growing fainter as they move further down the hall. when she’s sure the coast is clear, she darts out from her hiding spot, sprinting down the hall toward a door in the distance.

her heart hammers in her chest as she reaches the door, yanking it open and slipping inside without a second thought. she turns, pressing her back against the door, her breath coming in short, frantic bursts as she listens for any sign that she’s been followed. 

it’s only when she finally looks up that she realizes where she’s ended up: in a small classroom, the kind you’d see in an old boarding school. a few students—eight or so—are seated at desks, their attention fixed on a teacher at the front of the room. the teacher pauses mid-sentence, turning to look at her with mild surprise.

minji freezes, her heart skipping a beat as every pair of eyes in the room turns to her. she stands there, caught, her mind racing as she tries to figure out what to do next. she has no idea where she is, who these people are, or how she’s going to get out of here, but one thing’s for sure—she needs to move, fast.

“ah, minji.” the teacher says, “right, please have your homework done by tomorrow. please determine the velocities using the problems in the textbook, see you all tomorrow.”

minji watches the students leave, one of them catching her off guard, walking through the door as it closes before she can make it. she looks back at the teacher—the professor, eyes slightly widened.

“where am i?” she asks demandingly.

“two hours from seoul.”

“what am i doing here?”

he stares at minji, seemingly examining her before she hears the door behind her opening, snapping her head to see two unfamiliar faces.

“minji, i’d like you to meet minjeong—also known as storm.” the professor’s voice is calm and authoritative, drawing minji’s attention to the girl standing a few steps away. minji’s eyes narrow slightly as she takes in the girl’s striking white hair, so stark against her youthful features. there’s something powerful about her, something that makes minji’s instincts prickle, but she doesn’t say anything, just watches her closely.

“and this is wonbin, also called cyclops.” the professor continues, gesturing to the guy next to minjeong. wonbin steps forward, extending a hand toward minji, his expression friendly, if a bit cautious. the red lenses of his glasses catch the light, a faint glow emanating from behind them.

minji stares at his hand, her gaze cold, unblinking. she doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge the gesture. there’s a tense silence as the seconds stretch on, minji’s eyes flicking up to meet wonbin’s. her jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in her cheek as she clenches it. wonbin hesitates, then slowly lowers his hand, understanding that the handshake isn’t going to happen. he scoffs under his breath—minji hears it.

“they saved your life, you know?” the professor’s voice cuts through the silence, his tone gentle but firm. he looks at minji, as if willing her to understand, to see the gravity of the situation. but minji doesn’t respond, her expression hard, unreadable.

just then, the door opens, and someone else walks in. minji’s eyes flicker over, her features softening just slightly at the sight of you. you move quietly but confidently, your expression calm, composed, not betraying any of the distress or turmoil that might be lurking underneath your skin. minji’s gaze follows you as you pass by her, her attention completely captured, like you’re the only thing in the room worth noticing or thinking twice about.

you don’t say anything, don’t even glance her way, but minji can’t take her eyes off you, something about you making the tension in her shoulders ease, if only by a fraction. as you turn around, she takes in your features, soft and delicate, yet there’s a strength there too, something in the way you carry yourself. it’s captivating, almost disarming, and for a moment, minji forgets to be on guard.

“this is y/n,” the professor says, breaking the spell. “i believe you two have already met.”

minji’s gaze remains fixed on you, her thoughts racing, trying to piece together how she knows you. then it hits her, you’re the person she almost sliced earlier.

“right, y/n, if you could get her situated into one of the spare rooms for me.”

you make direct eye contact with minji, jaw tightening before you smile softly at the professor. 

“of course.”

–

“i think you’ll find it comfortable here,” you say softly, turning on the lamp. 

minji observes closely, looking around the room quickly before her eyes redirect back onto you as you turn on another lamp.

“where’s your room?”

“down the hall with wonbin.”

“four eyes?” she questions rudely. “is he always so… petty.”

you turn around, looking at her and raising a brow. 

“how judgy you’ve only just met him…” you start, turning on the last lamp. “he’s just not willing to put up with people who don’t greet him properly—people who nearly slice someone’s head off.” you add calmly, tightening your jaw.

“i wasn’t going to cut your head off.”

“with the way your blades were against my neck? i figured that would’ve been my last breath.” you scold, meeting her eyes coldly. 

minji stiffens, breaking the eye contact and looking down.

“are you always so… dense?” you ask minji, tilting your head slightly, a hint of challenge in your voice. minji stiffens, the doors behind her clicking shut on their own, the sound sharp in the tense silence. her eyes widen as she looks at you, caught off guard, claws out without thinking.

“did you do tha—”

“or are you still shaken up from being knocked out by jyp’s men?” you continue, your tone casual, but the words strike a nerve. you glance at her blades, the same ones from earlier. “gonna slice me for real this time?”

“i’m sorry?” minji’s voice is laced with confusion as her claws retract. her brow furrows as she tries to make sense of what you’re saying.

“people like us,” you say, your voice dropping into something more serious. “a lot of people aren’t fond of the gifts we have. and hearing about the way they reacted to your claws… they’re definitely more hostile to what you’re capable of.”

minji’s eyes narrow, her mind racing as she processes your words. “and what’s your gift?” she asks, a trace of skepticism in her voice. “you can move things with your mind?”

“you’re observant,” you reply, a touch of sarcasm coloring your tone. “you’re right on that. i also have telepathic ability.”

minji raises an eyebrow, the tension between you crackling like fireworks. “like the professor? you can get into my head or something?” she steps closer, almost sizing you up despite being only two or three centimeters taller.

“you say that like i’d willingly get into yours.” you reply sharply, your voice steady, but there’s a flicker of something in your eyes—hesitation, perhaps, or uncertainty. “like there’s even anything in a brain so hollow.”

“what, scared?” minji questions, her voice low, daring. she huffs, amused, “are you even able to?”

“what?” you blink, taken aback by her sudden boldness. after what happened earlier, you’d expect her to keep her distance, but here she is, practically taunting you, her lips curling into a slight smirk that sends your heart skipping a beat. there’s something about her—something infuriatingly compelling as much as she is irritating—that makes you sigh in defeat, unable to resist the pull of her challenge.

“i can do things that you wouldn’t even be able to comprehend,” you look down at her necklace, reading the characters out loud, “minji.”

her eyes narrow, and yours do too before they soften just barely.

with a reluctant exhale, you raise your hands beside her head, your fingers hovering hairs away from her temples. closing your eyes, you focus, the world around you fading into the background as you reach out with your mind, slipping past the surface of her thoughts. 

minji watches you intently, her eyes fixed on your face as she listens to your steady breathing, notices the slight tremor in your hands. as you delve deeper into her mind, your expression shifts, your brows drawing together as you begin to see what lies beneath the surface.

suddenly, your eyes snap open, shock flooding your features. you stare at her, wide-eyed, your breath catching in your throat as you struggle to process what you’ve just seen.

“what did you see?” minji’s voice is quieter now, the cockiness replaced by something more subdued, almost vulnerable. she holds your hands, looking at you expectantly.

you hesitate, the images still flashing through your mind—minji being beaten, restrained, shot, stabbed, over and over again. the pain, the fear, the relentless violence—it’s overwhelming, a flood of horror that you can barely comprehend. and yet, you’ve only had a brief glimpse, a fraction of it, a sliver of what she’s been through.

“i saw… a lot,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. there’s no need to elaborate—minji can see it in your eyes, the weight of what you’ve witnessed, the gravity of the memories that haunt her. and for a moment, the space between you feels more like a shared burden, there’s a quiet understanding of the scars that neither of you can ever truly erase.

the door opens and you look over to see wonbin looking at the two of you, minji’s still holding your hands—you shake them off quickly as if they’re molten lava.

“wonbin.” you sound surprised as you catch his pursed smile. you avoid minji’s eye contact, keeping your eyes away from her. “goodnight, minji.” you add finally, glancing at her once more before leaving the room. 

minji turns to catch wonbin looking at her intensely, making her smirk subtly. her claws extend out of her knuckles slowly again, voluntartbis time. her eyes drill into his.

“scared of me near her?”

“not at all.” he responds, “just looking out for her.”

“right.”

“she’s been through a lot, it seems like you’ve shaken her up more than before. you nearly sliced her head off.”

minji gulps, claws retracting. “i didn’t— i wasn’t going to.”

“right.” wonbin says unconvincingly. he looks at minji closely before letting out a small sigh. “keep your distance from my sister. keep your claws away. you’re dangerous, you know?”

“sister?” minji questions, and wonbin shakes his head at the fact that it’s the only part of his response that she listened to.

“don’t get too close, minji.” wonbin steps forward, tensing his jaw as he looks down. “you’ll see what happens when i take off these glasses.”

—

it seems like you’re drowning, with your senses overwhelmed by freezing cold water. 

opening your eyes stings you, you can’t even see through the blur of the water. your limbs feel heavy and your chest is tightening up by the second.you’re submerged, trapped in some suffocating abyss, and something sharp pierces through the murk—at least from what you can see. 

long, gleaming needles approach, their edges catching a flicker of light and it all becomes much more terrifying—they’re heading straight for you. 

you try to scream, but the water swallows it, muting your fear. the needles dig into your skin, injecting something searing and molten. you feel another sharp pain coming from your knuckles, and when you look down your eyes widen—there are claws coming out of your skin, slicing right through it. and then, just to make everything worse, the burn from whatever had been injected starts to spread through you like a wildfire, almost as if your bones were in flames. 

oddly enough, you can’t seem to use your powers. it’s almost as if they never existed. the pain consumes every nerve, and the pain—it’s unbearable. your body twitches, jerks, and convulses, but there’s no escape. 

and then the burn reaches your core. it feels like you might explode in seconds.

…

you sit upright, gasping for air, sweat dripping down your face. your chest heaves like you’ve just surfaced from drawing, and your vision is all blurry, the room darker than you could process.

“y/n! y/n, hey—look at me,” wonbin’s voice is urgent, his hands gripping your shoulders. he’s shaking you lightly, trying to break you out from whatever frantic episode you’re in. “it’s okay, i’m here. talk to me.”

as you blink, your breath slows, your mind racing to piece everything back together. “i-i’m fine,” you mutter, voice shaky. but the pounding in your head, the ache in your chest—it contradicts your response.

the sound of murmurs reaches your ears; hushed whispers, footsteps, and a few shadows catch your eye. you turn towards the door to glance at all the students—wide-eyed, worried, confused. they’re lingering, peering into your room—afraid to step closer.

wonbin’s features furrow, you can just barely see the flurry of emotions through his red shades. “you shook the whole house,” he says, his voice lower now but still laced with tension. “everyone felt it.”

you breathe out shakily, rubbing your face in your hands. shaking your head, you then wipe the sweat from your face with the back of your hand. “it’s nothing,” you lie, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. 

but then, out of the corner of your eye, you see her—minji. she’s standing in the doorway, not quite inside but not leaving either. she’s much bolder than the rest, clear in your vision rather than just a forehead and eyes. her eyes are locked on you, dark and intense, like she’s searching for something beneath your carefully composed exterior. there’s something else there too. care. concern. maybe even fear. 

her gaze is scrutinizing.

your breath catches, and for a moment, you can’t look away. her gaze feels like it’s pulling you apart—slow and grueling—like she can see through you. 

“y/n?” wonbin’s voice brings you back, he brings his hands over to your shoulders and you turn to face him. his eyes are glossed with worry, brows upturned just a bit. 

“it’s fine, i’m fine.” you repeat, more firmly this time, brushing him off as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. “i just need some fresh air.”

he second guesses, watching you closely. you can tell he doesn’t believe you for a second, but he doesn’t push. instead, he glances toward the door, toward minji. when you follow his gaze, she’s still there, still observing.

you stand and gulp, ignoring the weight of her stare—everyone’s stare. you walk past without a word, trailing down the hallway as its cool air hits your skin. despite the chill in the air, heat still courses through you. the memory of the dream, of the fire, of minji’s eyes—it all lingers, and you can’t shake it.

you step outside, only clad in a t-shirt and pajama pants, so the wind sends a shiver down your spine.

making your way down the stone steps, you catch the pond in the distance, rushing over as you try to compose yourself fully. then you sit down on the bench, staring out into the water that’s illuminated by the moon and lamps nearby. 

a short breath escapes you, you cling onto the edge of the bench.

the dream was so surreal, so vivid, so much pain, so much terror—and the fact that it’s all a memory from minji leaves you uneasy.

when you read her mind, the scenes went by in a flash, but each one still gave you goosebumps. it was bad enough as is, just getting quick glimpses, but the dream made you relive it—though just briefly. it made your eyes shut, trying to bury everything; how could someone go through all of that?

you lean forward, elbows on your knees, trying to steady your breathing as it grows heavy again. the dream—no, the nightmare—still clings to you, wrapping around your chest and taking your breath away. your hands shake, but you close them shut in an attempt to hide the tremor, even though no one’s around to see it.

at least, that’s what you think.

then you feel it—a presence. familiar, unsettling. your powers react before you can think, a rough, fist-sized rock lifting from the ground, hovering midair. it glides quickly, stopping a breath away from its target.

minji freezes, her eyes flickering to the rock floating just beside her head. “seriously?” she says, voice low but sharp—almost wary too.

you let out a heavy breath, the rock clattering to the ground as you force it down. “sorry,” you mutter, barely glancing at her.

she sits down anyway, keeping a noticeable distance between you. her posture is calm, her hands resting on her thighs, but you can feel the tension radiating off her. it mirrors your own. neither of you says anything at first, the silence filled only by the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of a cricket. 

“you scared me,” she says eventually, her voice softer now, almost reluctant. “when the house shook, i didn’t know what was going on. everyone ran in one direction, i followed, and then… i realized it was you.”

you glance at her, then back at the water, the reflection of the stars shimmering on its surface. “yeah, well. wasn’t exactly intentional.”

her eyes linger on you for a moment before she looks away, exhaling slowly. “i didn’t know you could do all of that. i didn’t know you could be so… vulnerable, i guess.” 

the words hit harder than they should, and you can’t decide if it’s an insult or something else. either way, you don’t respond. instead, you take a breath, forcing yourself to ask what’s been bothering you since you woke up. “the dream. the memory,” you begin, hesitant. “i saw you in it. kind of. do you, do you remember?”

“remember what?”

you rub your face with your hands, then relax against the bench as you stare up into the sky now. “needles, pain, water, burning in your bones…”

her brows furrow, and she shakes her head. “i— i wish i could. it’s all… bits and pieces. blurry. i can’t recall…”

you nod, but something about her answer stings. how could someone simply forget something like that? you don’t know how. you’re not sure you want to. 

“must be hard,” you say quietly, more to yourself than her.

“yeah,” she responds, equally quiet. her voice lacks the sharpness it usually holds when she talks to you. instead, there’s something almost vulnerable about it.

the tension between you both feels lighter now, less suffocating. it’s not gone, but it’s better. manageable. 

the distance between you stays as you sit in silence again, staring out at the water. it’s strange, the sudden wall that crumbled between you two. being with her is uncomfortable but not unwelcome. maybe it’s progress. maybe it’s just exhaustion. maybe you two just had a rough start.

“you almost killed me with that rock, you know,” minji says suddenly, breaking the quiet.

“you’d recover in a second,” you huff a dry laugh, the corner of your lip tugging just barely. “besides, you almost sliced my head off yesterday. i think we’re even.”

“doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt…” she argues lightly, and for the first time, you catch a hint of a smile. it’s faint, and fleeting, but it’s there. you don’t know what to make of it, but you let it sit between you, like the space you’re both finally starting to bridge.

you huff again, rubbing your eyes as you stand.

“i’m going back to bed.” you announce quietly, brow twitching as you observe her. she’s still staring out, but offers you a gentle nod.

—

two weeks into her new place of stay, she relearns that the whole world is out for her. 

mutants, as they say. the claws that strike out her knuckles indicate that she falls into this category. 

if you’re different from the average human, and not just some simple difference, something that makes you dangerous—being able to shoot lasers from your eyes, move things with your mind, change the weather in seconds—that’s what a mutant is. 

she’s already well aware of this, but after two weeks of being enrolled in some ‘mutant’ academy, she’s forced to know it down to the bone. this means she’s reading textbooks, watching documentaries, and even sitting through lectures; she never signed up for any of this.

though two more weeks—a month now—into being at the academy, things are much… different. the sharp edges of that initial hostility have dulled, but they’re not gone. and the other students don’t treat her like an outcast (as if they weren’t ones themselves), instead, she’s accustomed to everything. 

she still has that cocky edge, the attitude that makes you roll your eyes on instinct, but there’s something else too. a steadiness. she’s settled, not entirely comfortably but not bristling like she was in the beginning. most of this is the result of her spending one-on-one time with the professor, getting to know him for who he is and surprisingly growing quite fond of him. he’s the only person who’s shown so much devotion to someone like her after all.

you see her often—too often, maybe. often enough to see her change. training sessions, group drills, late-night strategy meetings where everyone’s half-asleep but still pretending to listen to the mentors. you two are paired up more often than not, and while the bickering hasn’t entirely disappeared, it’s lighter now. less venom, more banter.

wonbin isn’t happy about it. every time minji’s name comes up—whether that’s during late night talks when you two can’t sleep, during meals, or even when you two are sparring—his expression hardens, his jaw sets.

“i don’t trust her,” he says one evening, standing in the kitchen while you grab a bottle of water. he leans against the counter, arms crossed, looking every bit of the overprotective sibling. 

he’s not your actual brother, but when two orphans grow up together nearly tied to the hip—he might as well be. he’s been in your life since the head professor took you in, he’s the first person you’ve let in your life. you know him like the back of your palm, love him like you two share blood.

“you don’t trust anyone,” you reply, taking a sip. “except minjeong, maybe.”

“i do have some trust for others. not including that girl with the claws.” he shoots back, his tone pointed. “she nearly killed you. i still think about the camera footage here and there. my sister, three blades held against her throat.”

you sigh, setting the bottle down with a little more force than necessary. “it was an accident, wonbin. and it’s been a month. she was new… woke up in a lab, and was scared. it’s reasonable for her to almost kill me, i mean, who knows what she’s been through? maybe you should let it go.”

he glares at you, but there’s worry in his look that’s buried beneath the annoyance. “just… be careful, okay?”

you don’t answer. instead, you grab the bottle and head out, needing to clear your head.

—

a day passes, it’s three in the afternoon and minji is dodging a sharp jab near her ribs from you. she swings back and her thumb just barely grazes your ear, making you back up just a bit. 

it’s empty in the training room, each sound and movement apparent to both of you. you circle each other on the mat, it’s a routine now—intense, focused, and a little too competitive to be entirely practice.

she moves again, quick and calculated, aiming low with a sweep kick. you dodge once more, your body twisting fluidly as you counter with a strike that she deflects easily. her smirk is there, keen and familiar, and it drives you to wipe it right off.

but she’s good—too good sometimes for someone who’s been at the school for just over a month—which is why you’re often sparring with her or wonbin, two of few who match your level.  every step, every move, feels like a challenge, a reminder that she’s no ordinary opponent.

until she slips.

or maybe you just catch her off guard, but your hit lands square in her back, sending her stumbling forward and down onto the mat. she groans, rolling onto her side, shooting you a glare that’s more annoyed than angry.

“lucky shot,” she mutters, pushing herself up to sit.

you hold out a hand, and after a moment, she takes it, letting you pull her to her feet. “you’re slacking,” you tease, using your power to grab a towel from the bench and make it float toward her.

she huffs, grabs the towel in the air, wipes the sweat off her forehead, then smirks. something about it is weirdly infatuating. you blink—why would you think that?

“keep dreaming.” she scoffs.

the session winds down after that, both of you cooling off in the aftermath. she sits cross-legged on the edge of the mat, and you drop down a few feet away, chugging water from your bottle.

“your brother hates me,” she says suddenly, her tone casual but mordant like she’s been holding it in.

you pause mid-sip, lowering the bottle to look at her. “he doesn’t hate you,” you say, though the words feel repetitive, like you’re defending him more for the sake of it than anything else.

she raises an eyebrow, her expression incredulous. “oh, come on. he looks at me like i’m one bad day away from murdering everyone in this place.”

her response makes your lips twitch into something near a frown. “okay, so he’s… wary. wonbin is like that.”

“wary?” she echoes, laughing lightly as she leans back on her hands. her shirt tightens around her torso and it doesn’t go unnoticed. you glance back at her lips as she adds, “that’s a nice way to put it.”

her gaze shifts, her usual sharpness softening into something more thoughtful. “i don’t blame him, though. i mean… i didn’t exactly make the best first impression.”

you shrug, mirroring her stance and leaning on your hands as well. “wonbin’s protective. it’s his thing. give it time.”

“time doesn’t fix everything.” she says so quietly that you couldn’t guess she was talking to herself.

you glance at her and she looks away. the vulnerability in her voice surprises you. it’s rare for minji to let her guard down, and you’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion from sparring or something else entirely. 

“no,” you agree softly, “but it helps.”

she looks at you then, her eyes lingering like she’s searching for something. whatever it is, she doesn’t find it—or maybe she does, because she nods slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

she stands up now, running a hand through her hair to tuck back strands that fell out her ponytail. “you’re annoyingly optimistic, you know that?”

you grin, using your power to ball up your towel in the air and fling it at her chest as you stand. she grunts and you chuckle lightly, “only for you.” 

minji softens at the response, eyes meeting your back when you turn to walk away, leaving her there just standing like an idiot. she shakes her head, rolling her eyes at you.

—

the night is quiet, the kind of stillness that makes you aware of every creak of the walls and breeze of the wind. minji’s room, dimly lit by the faint glow of the boon filtering through the blinds, feels like a cage. her breathing is uneven, her body drenched in sweat as she jolts awake, the vivid images from her nightmare still gripping her.

it was all too real, as if she were reliving the memory of her cousin getting taken away right in front of her eyes again. it’s one of the memories that isn’t vague in her mind, the most painful one that stabs her heart deeper each time she’s reminded of it.

hyein’s face lingers in her mind—fearful, pleading, and then gone. the “mutant killers,” what her and hyein used to call them, their cruel laughter, the sound of a life being taken too soon. minji grips her sheets, her claws outstretched instinctively, the pain sharp but grounding. she stares at her hands, trembling, the metallic sheen of her claws catching the faint light.

“just a dream,” she whispers to herself, though the ache in her chest tells otherwise. 

she covers her face with her hands, breathing in and out to regulate her breathing. the air in her room feels suffocating, so she swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, still shaky. the rain pattering against the window soothes her just a bit, the steady rhythm just barely snapping her out of it. she heads for the kitchen, hoping water, a snack—really anything might wash away the lingering dread.

as she steps into the darkened room, she halds. the kitchen isn’t empty.

you’re there, sitting by the window in a wooden stool with your knees hugged against your chest. you stare out with earbuds in your ears, the wires stretching down to the phone on your table. only the light from the storm and candle on the table illuminate you, casting a slight shadow across your figure and features. minji pauses mid-step, unsure whether to stay or leave, but the slight tingle in the air—a strange pulse of energy—betrays her presence.

“it’s late.” you nearly whisper, but it’s loud in the silent area. you turn around, the slight shuffle cutting through the stillness.

minji stiffens, caught off guard. “how did you—”

you pull one earbud out as you glance over your shoulder to see her. “you’re not that subtle. plus… you’ve got that thing about you.” you rest your chin on your knee, eyes on her claws—out in the open and— “hard to miss.”

her claws retract as she moves toward the sink, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. “sorry if i uh, interrupted,” she mutters, her voice quieter than usual.

you shake your head, turning to face her fully now. “you didn’t,” you assure, gaze sharpening slightly. there’s a tension in her shoulders, and a little gleam of sweat on her forehead. “bad dream?”

she freezes mid-sip, grip tightening on the glass. “what makes you say that? are you reading my mind?”

you shake your head, then shrug. “just a feeling.”

her laugh is short and humorless—forced—as she sets the glass down, sitting in front of you. “yeah. something like that.” she doesn’t elaborate, but the weight in her voice says enough.

you don’t push; instead, letting the raindrops in the background fill the silence. it’s steady, and soothing, and for a moment, minji feels like she can breathe again. she sighs, leaning her head against the wall beside her as she looks out the window.

“you okay?” you ask finally, your tone soft but probing.

she looks at you for a split second, her walls still up but not as impenetrable as before. “i will be.” she hesitates, then adds, “it’s… an old memory. nothing i can change now.”

“i get it, it’s the same with me.”

“really?”

“it’s why i’m here instead of asleep.” you smile weakly as you mirror her posture: head against the wall and eyes on her instead of the window. “memories are tricky like that. they never really go away. always popping up in your dreams, flickering through your mind while you eat, before you sleep… the latter.”

she nods, her gaze landing on you. 

another silence settles, not as heavy this time. the rain continues falling in a rhythm, following its own dance against the glass. it’s a quiet backdrop to the unspoken understanding between you two. 

“does it hurt?” your voice breaks the quiet, low and curious, almost hesitant as if you’re asking her to reveal her darkest secret.

her brows furrow slightly, her gaze meeting yours. “does what hurt?”

“when your claws come out,” you clarify, tilting your head. your expression is unreadable but there’s genuine concern in your tone. “it looks… painful.”

minji exhales, another soft, humorless laugh escaping her lips. “always.” she lifts her hand slightly, as if to gesture toward the faint lines on her knuckles where her claws emerge. “i’ve gotten used to it, though. at least, i’ve tried to. it’s only for a second.” 

something about her tone tells you she’s lying, but you don’t pry. you frown at her response, the weight of her words sitting heavy in the air. leaning forward, you reach out, gently grabbing her hand. your thumbs brush over her knuckles, brushing over the bumps of her knuckles. her hands are warm and soft, which contrasts the nature of her mutation.

“you’re great.” you tell her, voice barely above a whisper. your gaze doesn’t waver, locked on her hand, the sincerity impossible to ignore. “you’re tough.”

minji looks way briefly when you look back up at her. her expression is caught somewhere between guarded and vulnerable. “thanks,” she murmurs. after a moment, her lips quirk into a faint smile. “you are too, you know.”

you tilt your head, the faint movement on her skin from your thumb halting. your brows knit. “me?”

“mhm,” she hums. “everyone here has been through their own thing. this place is full of… survivors. and you—” she hesitates, the faintest crack in her voice betraying her usual confidence that’s accompanied by banter and teasing. “i’m sure you’ve had your fair share.”

your weak smile mirrors hers as you nod, her words striking deeper than you’d care to admit. you don’t say anything at first, instead letting your thumb continue its slow, soothing motion across her knuckles. the movement is grounding, a small but significant gesture that seems to carry its own special weight. you can’t help but blush, unable to fight a bigger smile and admiration for minji.

“we’ve all got our… trauma.” you finally say.

“maybe,” she replies, tone lighter but still carrying a noticeable weight. “that doesn’t make us weak.”

you both fall into silence that feels less tense, more comfortable now. the rain continues to patter against the window, which offers a nice soundtrack to the moment. 

her hand shifts slightly beneath yours, her fingers curling just the tiniest bit, as if testing the waters of whatever you two have. it’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you feel it—and for now, it’s enough.

you hold four of minji’s fingers with your own, letting them sit gently against each other. you swallow shallowly before reaching for your earbud, putting it back on and staring out the window as something quiet plays. 

minji closes her eyes, head still against the wall as her breathing slows into a relaxed pace.

—

the day has been long, with training focused on everyone’s specific power/mutation. you, minjeong, minji, and wonbin have your own space down in the floors below, away from everyone due to the intensity of your abilities.

later on in the day everyone gathered for dinner, with you sitting next to wonbin and minji chatting here and there with minjeong in between bites. you steal glances at her, she steals glances at you. neither wonbin or minjeong let this go unnoticed. 

the dining hall is quiet after everyone is finished, the sound of chatter and dishes clinking replaced by the scrape of chairs being pushed in and the occasional clatter of plates. wonbin and minji are the last ones left, tasked with cleaning up after dinner. the air between them is tense, heavy with unspoken words.

wonbin works in silence, wiping down the long table with precision, while minji collects plates and stacks them onto a tray. the tension finally snaps when wonbin speaks, his tone low and clipped.”

“i don’t know what your deal is, but i’m watching you,” he says suddenly, not looking at her. 

minji freezes for a moment, then slowly turns to him, a plate still in her hands. “excuse me?”

he sets the cloth down, finally meeting her gaze. “you’ve gotten closer to my sister. fine. but don’t forget how things started, the hostility, your attitude. don’t think for a second that i’ll let my guard down around you.”

minji’s jaw tightens, her grip on the plate firm. “you think i’m going to hurt her? if this is about sparring then don’t be an idiot. you act like i’m going to kill her—is that what this is about?”

“i’m just saying,” wonbin continues, his voice colder as he stares at minji’s knuckles, “if you so much as—”

“give me a break.” she interripts, setting down the plate with more force than necessary. “i’m not going to kill her, wonbin. stop worrying your head off like i’m some ticking time bomb. besides, y/n is more than capable of protecting herself.”

his eyes narrow. “you don’t get to decide what i worry about. she’s my family.” 

“and what? you think i don’t know how much she means to you?” minji snaps back. “you think i don’t know what it’s like to have someone you want to protect? because guess what. i used to have someone too, but that’s not the case anymore. you treat me like i was placed onto earth with these claws willingly just to be a predator. i’m not an animal.”

the room feels charged, the weight of their words hanging in the air. you step into the doorway just as minji’s voice rises, catching the tail end of the argument.

“i don’t care whether you trust me or not. if you don’t? so be it. but don’t stand there and act like you know me, like i’m a threat.” she says, her voice tight with frustration.

wonbin’s mouth opens, but whatever he’s about to say dies on his lips when he notices you standing there. minji follows his gaze, her expression hardening when she sees you.

“great,” minji mutters, brushing past you with the tray of dishes. “enjoy your lecture.”

the door swings shut behind her, leaving you and wonbin alone in the now-awkward silence. you sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“really?” you groan, your tone equal parts tired and exasperated.

he frowns, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows before beginning to wipe the table again—as if it’ll distract him. “i’m just looking out for you.”

“wonbin, she’s not the enemy.” you reply, stepping closer. “she’s trying, and you’re not making it any easier for her. it’s been a few months and you’re holding on a grudge from first impressions.”

“those goddamn claws are always so close to you!” he hits his fist against the table. “always out and— hell, not everyone can get hurt and heal in less than ten seconds—”

“yeah, i know,” you cut him off. “and she knows too. believe me, she’s not proud of it.”

his wiping slows, and for a moment, he just stands there, gripping the cloth tightly. “i don’t trust her.” he mumbles under his breath, hands harshly running through his hair and gripping at the roots.

“i don’t care. i’m not asking you to,” you say, your voice softening. “i’m asking you to give her a chance. she’s not the same person she was when she got here. none of us are—she’s part of our team now. she’s a mutant, she’s one of us.”

“there’s mutants that want us dead.” he finally looks at you, his expression conflicted. “i just… i don’t want you to get hurt. i lost my blood-brother, and i can’t risk losing my sister too.”

“i know,” you say, placing a hand on his arm. “but you can’t protect me from everything. and you don’t have to. i’ve got everything under control, you do know that my powers aren’t limited to making a napkin move anymore, right? i’m not a child.”

he sighs out heavily, nodding slightly. “fine. but if she steps out of line…”

you smile faintly, giving his arm a light squeeze. “you’ll be the first to know. i can get into your head from a city away.”

the tension eases, and for the first time all evening, the room feels calm again. but in the back of your mind, you wonder if minji heard any of what you said—or if she’s decided to keep her distance.

—

the jet hums beneath your feet as the five of you prepare for landing. the professors—minho, namjoon, and hyeri—stand at the front, briefing everyone one last time. you and your peers, the strongest and oldest of the bunch, have been preparing and preparing for the day to come, for a mission like this. it never seemed like it would be real, something so significant.

wonbin has been sent before to find “mutants fighting destructively and wrecklessly in the mountains thirty minutes away from the city,” which was apparently one of the more risky feats. wonbin came back with a cut on his arm and lip, and he never gets hurt. he also came back with an exhausted minjeong, with messed up hair and a fragile body. of all the mutants that he met there, each one being equally as dangerous, he came back with one that changed things for the better: minji.

and now you’re scratching your pointer finger with your thumb, staring at the ground as you think about what might happen on this mission. tension in the air is thick, the weight of the mission pressing down on you and your teammates. 

the task at hand was to rescue a group of mutants held by a militant anti-mutant organization, the same organization that had to do with minji being unconscious the day you met her: jyp’s men. they’ve been raiding mutant-safe zones and capturing young mutants, using them as bait to draw out larger groups of mutants for extermination—some of the people supporting this were mutants themselves.

your breath shakes just thinking about it—everything.

you glance over at minji, whose face is a careful mask of calm as she looks out the window of the jet. then you look at wonbin and minjeong, who are both looking equally nervous as they do determined.

“stay focused, and remember your training,” professor hyeri says, her gaze sweeping over the group. “trust each other.” 

her words urge you to glance at wonbin, then at minji. wonbin makes direct eye contact with you, then looks away, tensing his jaw. minji stays unbothered, but her thumb scratches her skin the same way you had been doing.

the jet door opens, and the cold night air rushes in. you descend into the dense forest where the intel suggests the young mutants are hiding. 

everything starts fine. the group moves in formation, sticking close and covering each other as instructed. but soon, things aren’t as simple.

blasts of energy light up the darkness as the mutants—ones against their own kind—ambush you all, their powers as unpredictable as they are destructive. you dart behind a fallen tree, barely avoiding a fiery projectile aimed your way. minjeong retaliates with a frost barrier, her hands trembling as she colds a harsh breeze in place, but steadying as she encases an attacker in a compact wind.

“watch out!” wonbin shouts, tackling you before you get hammered by a henchman running towards you. he quickly recovers, turning his head and taking off his glasses as beams shoot from his eyes, completely blowing the guy back. 

wonbin puts his glasses back on, then puts a hand on your neck. he looks at you worriedly and you place a hand on his, “thank you,”

“you could’ve died.”

“i was going to send him flying,” you giggle lightly to lighten the mood, which is ruined again when a piece of wood is hurled towards you two. without looking, you lift your hand, making the wood stop and split into pieces in front of you. 

wonbin rolls his eyes, then gets up. “stay safe, you’re an idiot sometimes.”

“whatever.”

the next few encounters were manageable—stunning blows, deflected strikes, and coordinated attacks as you worked seamlessly as a team. but the situation quickly spiraled when more mutants appeared, armed with advanced weaponry designed specifically to neutralize mutants.

chaos erupted from there.

one blast sent you flying into a tree, a sharp pain radiating through your shoulder and arm as you hit the ground. you gritted your teeth, using your powers to fling debris at the attackers whil simultaneously pulling out a chunk of wood from your forearm. the strain on your injury made your telekinesis falter. wonbin widened his eyes at the sight of you, running over and crouching next to you as a powerful optic blast from his eyes knocked several men back.

“stay down!” wonbin shouted through the chaos, but his voice wavered with concern as he noticed the blood staining your sleeve. “y/n, y/n jesus christ…”

minjeong was a blur, lighting shooting from her fingertips as she immobilized one of the attackers. her hair whipped wildly around her face, the storm she summoned cracking ominous above her.

amidst the disarray, minji became the anchor holding you all together. while you all lingered in the same area, she moved across the terrain with brutal efficiency. her claws tore through weapons and disarming attackers with practiced ease—the same way she made her way through the dummies back at the school, but much quicker. she looked angrier than you’ve ever seen her before, blood staining her knuckles and stabbing mercilessly. 

but then, one of the men aimed a specialized weapon—something lethal and glowing with energy in your direction, meaning it’d not only hit you, but also wonbin and minjeong. 

minji looks over, quickly taking her hand away from some man’s chest she’s just stabbed. her eyes widen, she hurries over, huffing and biting down as she pushes herself physically.

“get down!” she yells, throwing herself in front of you all. 

you watched in horror as the shot hit her squarely, wonbin’s shoulder covering a bit of the image from the way blocked you. she staggered but didn’t fall, her claws retracting for a second. they emerge a few seconds later and she grits her teeth, looking down at you as she endures the pain. 

wonbin looks up as well, flinching. a sharp gasp of surprise slips from him as a second shot follows, and then another, but minji didn’t budge. her body served as a shield, each hit accompanied by a guttural groan that made your chest tighten painfully.

“minji, stop!” you cry, trying to reach out for her as panic seizes you. the sight of her taking the brunt of the attack was almost too much to bear.

“stay down!” she snaps, her voice sharp despite what she’s enduring. there’s agony etched into her features, earning tears from you. 

her claws extended fully as she leaped forward, taking down two men in quick, fluid movements. wonbin’s blast took out another attacker as he continued to hold you, while minjeong’s storm surge sent the remaining men scattering.

“minjeong,” wonbin starts, looking at the destruction, and especially at minji. she’s limping, breathing hard, the sleeve of one arm torn off. “gather any of the young mutants you can find—the refugees. i’m going to check on minji.”

“you are?” minjeong says, surprised as she looks between both of them.

but before wonbin can move, you push him off with your power, making him roll off of you and on the ground. he grunts as he pushes himself up, watching you run over to where minji is.

he calls out for you, but you push it in the back of your mind—what matters the most is minji. 

she’s clutching her shoulder, on her knees, and soon falling back onto the ground. she lies there for a moment, staring up and groaning. you rush over to her side, pushing her hair away from her face and cupping her cheeks as tears flow. because of her powers she’s not bruised, there aren’t any cuts, but just the memory from before and her pure exhaustion are enough to have you ignoring your injuries.

“minji? minji, minji please.” her blinking gets slower as she looks up, then she looks over to you and smiles. “minji, are you okay? minji please…” you shake her, hands moving to the side of her neck and then her shoulders.

her blinking slows down until her eyes close fully for a moment. she smiles softly and brings her hand over to place it over yours. her claws are still out, but they retract slowly into her skin.

“ouch,” she groans, “hurts a lot.”

you choke out another cry and put your head down on her shoulder, tears staining the sleeve that hadn’t been blown up or torn. she brings her other hand over to rest on your head, fingers digging into your scalp just a bit.

“i’m fine, y/n. i just need a good nap…”

“still,” you say, voice light and airy and full of worry. “i can’t see you getting hurt like that again, i can’t.” 

“why?” minji asks genuinely, watching you pull away to look at her through glossy eyes. “you know i don’t get hurt like everyone else.”

“i know, i just—” you close your eyes, sighing. “i care about you so much. seeing you hurt i just, i—”

“wow, you look really pretty right now.” minji mumbles, hand on your cheek now. “the dust and moonlight and… blood,” she giggles with a mix of pain and admiration, “really brings out your eyes.”

“you idiot,” you say quietly. your brows twitch as they furrow, from her words and also the sudden pain everywhere in your body. 

“y/n?” minji asks as you go weak and collapse on her, breath shaky. “y/n?” she says again, voice much more worried as she tries to get up. 

“i’m glad you’re okay, as long as you’re okay.” you sigh, feeling minji’s arms around you.

“y/n? y/n—” minji feels blood seeping through your suit and onto her, looking down to see a slight stain that leaked onto her skin. 

—

minji stares at the floor of her room, her hands balled up into fists and pressing into her thighs. her thoughts are a loop, they’ve been a loop ever since the mission had ended. the endless memory of you being thrown into a tree, the look on your face that she managed to witness, and the blood—so much blood. 

in the moment she had wanted to run to you, even before wonbin did. she wanted to pull you up, to do something, but the mission hadn’t allowed for hesitation. there had been too many enemies darting at her and four young mutants on the line. although she wanted to run up and protect you, she knew better.

but still, she thinks about how if she were faster, stronger—she could’ve maybe taken down the man that hurled you.

guilt festers, pressing heavily on her chest until she’s breathing heavier, and she pushes herself out of the room and onto the rooftop of the school. the night is still, the stars faint behind the clouds, and the chill of the air bites against her skin. she sits with her legs dangling off, staring at the sky like you’d do with her when you both couldn’t sleep. 

it’s been almost twenty-four hours since you fell unconscious, twenty-four hours since the moment where minji had to watch wonbin carry you with tears in the corners of his eyes and your blood staining some of his forearm.

“minji.” professor minho’s voice breaks through the stillness, calm but firm. he looks out at the moon past minji, not opening his mouth as he telepathically says, “she’s in much better condition now, blinked a few times before returning to her state before.”

minji doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate. her body moves on its own, programmed to sprint at the mention that you’re conscious again. she’s rushing down the stairs and through the hallways until she’s outside the infirmary door. she pauses, her hand hovering just above the doorknob, suddenly unsure. she takes a steadying breath before stepping inside.

wonbin is seated by your bedside, his large hand wrapped around yours protectively. his expression softens slightly when he sees minji enter, though the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fully ease. minji doesn’t say anything, just pulls up a chair across from him and sits down, her gaze locking onto you. 

you’re pale, your arm and torso heavily bandaged. every rise and fall of your chest feels like a fragile promise, and minji’s stomach twists at the sight. she doesn’t know how long she stares before wonbin’s voice cuts through the silence. 

“thank you,” he says, his voice quiet but sincere. it’s the first time he’s spoken with so much vulnerability to her. minji looks up, surprised, and sees the way his grip on your hand tightens slightly. “for doing all of that—protecting all of us out there. i mean it.”

minji nods, her throat tight. “i couldn’t protect her,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “not enough.”

“we both tried our best. it was hard out there.” wonbin shakes his head. “you did more than enough for her, for all of us.” he hesitates, his lips pressing into a thin line before he goes on, “look, i know we’ve clashed… and i haven’t been… well, the best. to you, i mean. but i do appreciate what you did. thank you.”

a silent treaty—something like that—is signed. close enough.

minji nods again, the tension between them easing ever so slightly. they sit in silence, the faint hum of the machines monitoring your vitals filling the room.

minjeong walks in a moment later, her presence bright but subdued as she glances between the two of them and then at you. “she’s okay?” she asks softly, her gaze lingering on your face as she walks over to place a hand on your tummy softly.

“she’s tough,” wonbin says, voice steady. “she’ll be fine.”

minji stands, the chair scraping softly against the floor. she steps back, giving minjeong space as the other girl sits next to wonbin. minji’s look lingers on you for a moment longer before she turns and leaves the room.

she’s halfway to the door when she hears your voice—not aloud, but soft and clear in her mind. 

thank you minji.

she freezes, her fingers hovering over the handle. her pulse quickens, the room suddenly feeling smaller, like it’s folding in on itself. slowly, she glances over her shoulder, her gaze locking onto your still-unconscious form. your lips are slightly parted, you’re still pale, and still. minji knows she’s not imagining it. the connection between the two of you hums faintly, along with the soft sound of your breath, fragile but unmistakable. 

you didn’t have to do all that, but you did. you’re an idiot, you know? 

your voice continues with the same warmth as always.

even if you are… i’d like to… i don’t know, spend some time together?

minji’s grip on the handle tightens, the weight of your words settling in her chest. she turns fully now, minjeong and wonbin perking their heads at her. her gaze softens as it rests on you. “you don’t owe me anything, only the promise that you’ll rest up.” she mutters, her voice slightly louder than wonbin’s clothes shuffling as he moves his arm a bit. “just take it easy, okay?”

there’s no response, only the steady beeping of the machines beside you. but as minji observes, she catches the faintest twitch of your lips—a subtle movement, tugging into something that’d be a stupid smirk if you were your normal self. it’s barely there, but enough to send a flicker of something unfamiliar through her.

she watches you for a moment more before leaving, not turning back. minjeong and wonbin look at each other, confused, before brushing it off and paying attention to you again.

—

a few days pass, and you’re finally on your feet again. the first steps are unsteady, your legs wobbling like they’re testing the idea of holding your weight, but you manage. besides, the pain in your upper body is worse. 

still, wonbin hovers like a shadow, always within reach. his presence is both comforting and stifling, his sharp eyes darting to every movement you make as if you might topple over an second.

(which, you might. you’re not going to admit it though, he wouldn’t let you have the end of it.)

it’s not just during the usual times either. at lunch he’s seated right next to you, arms crossed and jaw tensed. occasionally, he glances toward minji whenever she approaches, staying in your peripheral as you two laugh over something he doesn’t know the context of.

the hallway is no different; as you and minji exchange casual remarks, he lingers a few steps behind, clearly within earshot. minji’s talking about how training is a bit rough after being shot multiple times from the event despite her healing, and wonbin’s behind listening—but not prying. 

even in your room, when minji stops by with a book she claims might “keep you from getting bored,” he’s sitting on the floor against your bed, staring at minji through his frames and folding his arms like some overprotective sentinel.

neither of you mind it for now. minji spares him the occasional smirk or side glance, clearly aware of his hovering, but doesn’t press. sometimes she tries to get him engaged in your conversations, even if it’s about something stupid like ice cream toppings and food arguments. you’ve come to accept his protective streak, considering it exposes him to the minji you’ve grown to care for a lot.

a few days later, though, you’ve had enough. sitting on the porch with wonbin, you watch him from the corner of your eye as he fiddles with his phone, pretending not to be monitoring your every breath. you sigh and turn to him, your tone as light as you can make it. “won, i’m fine. seriously. i’m not going to collapse or break apart.”

he looks up sharply, his brow furrowing. “you’re still recovering. flimsy isn’t fine.”

you laugh softly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “flimsy is better than useless, and besides, i need to get back to normal at some point. hovering like a drone won’t make me stronger. you’re like some… medieval guard—that has lasers coming out his eyes.”

his frown deepens, but it’s slightly more playful. for a moment it seems like he might argue, but then he sighs, leaning back against the railing. “i just… i can’t have anything like that happening to you again.”

you reach over, patting his hand briefly. “i know. and i appreciate it. but trust me, i’ve got it. okay?” your fingers link with his and he softens just barely.

he nods reluctantly, muttering something about keeping an eye on you anyway, but you can see the tension in his shoulders start to ease further. a win is a win, you think with a smile, as the two of you sit in comfortable silence before you ask wonbin about how his aim has been getting. he responds with a groan and you chuckle.

—

dishes clinking against each other fills the quiet in the air of the kitchen. you and minji work together to clean up after dinner, the soft hum of the school settling into its evening lull. your movements are methodical, each plate and glass wiped clean and set aside, but your thoughts are anything but calm. every now and then, your look flickers to minji, catching her in the soft glow of the overhead light, her expression focused, her hands steady.

you’re halfway through stacking a set of plates when the words slip out. “i was scared to death,”

minji freezes, her hands pausing mid-reach for a plate. she turns her head, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of surprise. 

you place the plate you’re holding down on the counter and step closer, your heart pounding harder with each step. “when you were on the ground… when they blasted you with those shots and we all had to watch, i though—” your voice wavers, and you swallow hard. “i thought i was going to lose you.”

minji straightens, her eyes softening as they search yours. “you know my abilities,” she says quietly, her tone careful. “i heal. i always heal. shoot me and the bullet will be pushed right out, stab me and the cut will close. those blasts hurt, they weakened me yeah, but i’m in one piece.”

you shake your head, taking another step closer. “i know. but still… seeing you like that—acting like a shield and taking all of that—i just… i didn’t know what to do. i was terrified.”

her eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, the air feels heavier, more charged. you’re standing so close now that you can see every faint scar on her hands that were left when she was younger, the tension in her shoulders.

“you weren’t the only one,” she says softly. “during your recovery… i kept thinking thinking about it, about you. i couldn’t do anything to protect you. it killed me seeing you like that.”

your chest tightens at her words, and before you can think, your arms move on their own. you pull her into a hug, your grip firm but careful. she stiffens for a brief second before she melts into you, her chin resting on your shoulder as her arms trap you tightly. her heartbeat thumps against yours, quick and uneven, matching your own.

“we’re both fine now, at least. that’s all that matters.” minji’s chin moves just a bit against your shoulder as she says it, “as long as you’re with me.”

when you pull back, your hands linger, fingers barely grazing each other’s arms. you stare into her eyes, and something shifts—there’s something in her eyes that wasn’t there before, or maybe you just never noticed.

minji’s cheeks are dusted pink, her lips slightly parted as she takes you in. she thinks you’ve never looked more radiant than you do in this moment, eyes filled with so much care it makes her heart swell.

you, on the other hand, see her in a new light entirely. she’s glowing to you even in the dimmed area. it feels like something undeniable is pulling you towards her. your hands reach over hesitantly, fingers brushing against the skin of minji’s cheek before you hold her there. her ears and brows twitch ever so slightly before she sinks into you, tilting her head into your hand and humming softly. 

“minji, i think i—” 

then, the sound of the door creaking open snaps you both out of it. professor minho steps in, his warm smile immediately taking in the scene. you two pull away, taking two steps back in one motion as you clear your throats. minji feels as if there’s a warmth missing on her cheek.

“i’ll take care of the rest,” he says, his voice calm but knowing. “you two go rest. there’s a lot of action packed recovery and training tomorrow.”

flustered, you make your way out quickly, coughing awkwardly. “yes, of course. thank you professor.” you shoot minji a quick, bashful smile before excusing yourself, your heart still racing as you leave the kitchen area.

minji stays behind, glancing down at her hands before returning to the dishes, her mind replaying the moment over. and as she stands by the sink, she keeps scrubbing the same plate like it’s the only thing she’s programmed to do while her thoughts swirl around in her head.

her heart beats too fast and her cheeks are still too warm.

professor minho watches her with quiet amusement as he picks up a small, dry rag. the comfortable silence lingers for a moment longer before he clears his throat, drawing minji’s attention. 

“you know,” he starts, his tone casual but laced with curiosity, “you’re not usually this distracted.”

minji glances at him, her lips pressing into a thin line as if trying to play it off. “just tired,” she mutters, rinsing the plate and setting it aside before accepting the rag he hands her, drying her hands after.

minho doesn’t press right away, but his knowing look stays fixed on her, patient. finally, he speaks again, softer this time. “how do you feel about y/n?”

the question catches minji off guard. she freezes, her grip tightening on the rag she’s holding. her first instinct is to brush it off, but the weight of everything has her too raw to hide. and plus, the professor doesn’t need to use his powers to read her, or any of the students for that matter.

“she’s,” minji pauses, struggling to find the right words. her voice is quieter now as she leans against the counter with a hand on her face. “she’s the first person i’ve cared about this much in a while.”

minho’s expression softens, his small smile doesn’t fade. “i can see that.” he says simply.

minji looks at him, surprised by his lack of judgment or teasing. “you can?”

he chuckles lightly, nodding as he starts to clean the next few dishes. “i’ve known y/n for a long time. took her in when she had no one else. i’ve seen her grow, especially with wonbin, and struggle and learn and—the latter. she’s been and fought through things that most people wouldn’t spring back up from.” he pauses, his tone growing more thoughtful. “i know how much she cares, how deeply she feels for everyone around her—even if she doesn’t always show it. her and minjeong, wonbin, the professors, the rest of the students… but she cares for you in a very interesting way. she looks at you differently.”

minji’s heart skips a beat, her eyes widening slightly. “how she looks at me?”

minho nods. “it’s the same way you look at her.” he lets the words hang in the air before continuing, putting a dish away as he says, “whatever this is between you two—whatever it becomes—i think it’s good. for both of you.”

minji frowns slightly, her brows furrowing. “wonbin doesn’t seem to think so.”

minho laughs quietly, shaking his head. “wonbin is quite protective,” he explains, “he’s always been that way with y/n. they’ve been through a lot together, and he sees it as his job to keep her safe. but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.”

minji looks up at him with skepticism painted in her features. “he barely tolerates me.”

“he did,” minho admits, “but ever since the mission, that’s changed drastically. you protected all of them—you protected him and the person he loves most. he sees that now. and whether he’s able to admit it or not, he respects you greatly for it. he even likes you… to an extent.”

minji raises an eyebrow, doubtful but not entirely dismissive. “you’re sure about that?”

minho smiles knowingly. “i’ve known wonbin a long time. trust me, if he didn’t like you, you’d know. the fact that he lingers around while you and y/n are talking? that’s his way of easing into it—and because he doesn’t trust his sister enough while she’s not fully recovered.”

“it’s just…” minji sighs, “i don’t want to make things harder for y/n. she’s been through so much already. i can’t be another scoop of worry on her plate.”

minho finishes washing the last of all the plates, getting lazy and deciding to scrub the silverware with his mind. the spoons behind him lift up and the sponge scrubs on its own in the air as he turns to face minji, leaning against the counter.

“minji, you’re not making things harder for her. if anything, you’re doing the opposite. y/n doesn’t let just anyone in, you know. she’s cautious, careful about who she trusts—and yet, she trusts you. that’s quite remarkable if you ask me.”

she doesn’t respond immediately, her mind replaying the way you had looked at her earlier, the softness in your voice when you spoke. it felt… different. 

“i know both y/n well enough to see when something—or someone—means a lot to her.”

minji meets his gaze, her own uncertain but searching for reassurance.

“you think i mean that much to her?” she asks, almost hesitant to hear the answer.

minho smiles, a small, knowing smile that feels like the answer she’s been looking for. “i don’t think minji. i’m certain. and from what i’ve seen, you feel the same.”

she doesn’t deny it, she can’t. instead, she looks away, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

minho places all the silverware on the drying rack with his mind as he walks over to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “whatever this is between you two, don’t make it more complex than it is. just let it happen, don’t think too far ahead, don’t think too much. y/n doesn’t need perfection—she needs someone who cares. and you’re already doing that.”

she stays silent for a moment, taking in his words.

“and don’t worry about wonbin. he’ll come around fully sooner than you think. i think he already is. he’s just stubborn.” minho assures, taking his hand off of her before grabbing another rag to dry off her hands. “now, you should get yourself to bed. as i said, lots of training tomorrow.”

“right, yes. thank you professor.” minji says, nodding at him before pursing her lips into a smile. 

“anytime, you’re my student afterall.”

minji nods once more before heading to the door. everything falls quiet again, she makes her way down the hallway as her thoughts swirl. it’s only when she gets to her room and closes the door, thinking of the way you’d looked at her earlier. she lets herself smile, just a bit, maybe more than that. 

(she’s grinning from ear to ear)

she thinks that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

—

you and minjeong are paired up for sparring the next day, grinning as soon as the matchup is made. she huffs before raising her fists up, ready to fight. professor hyeri gives you the green light, yelling at the top of her lungs.

there’s the echo of punches meeting gloves and the occasional smack of a body hitting the mat. you and minjeong square off, circling each other. there’s a glint in her eye today—a little more focus, more drive.

it doesn’t take long before you find yourself flat on your back, blinking up at the ceiling with her smirking down at you.

“okay, maybe i’m still not fully recovered,” you groan, the sting to your pride a little heavier than the soreness in your muscles. you take her outstretched hand reluctantly, letting her help you up.

“or maybe,” minjeong leans in just slightly, her voice low enough so that only you can hear, “it’s the girl with the claws.”

heat rises to your face immediately. your grip on her hand loosens, and you shove her playfully as you step back. “you’re out of your mind,” you huff, shaking your head as if you’re dismissing her.

she shrugs, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips as she steps back into position. “am i?”

you roll your shoulders and raise your fists, ready to go again. punches fly between you—sharp jabs, swift swings, and quick dodges that nearly graze skin. despite the physical focus, the conversation doesn’t stop.

“you’ve been different lately,” minjeong says before moving her head to the side to dodge your punch. she aims a kick towards you that you narrowly block.

“i have not,” your tone is just as defensive as your stance.

“there’s something there. something you’re not saying,” she presses, her voice teasing but curious.

you focus on the sparring, refusing to meet her gaze, but it’s getting harder to ignore the way her words chip away at you.

then it happens; minjeong slips. not physically, but her guard falters as she glances at you, and it’s all you need. with a quick step, you sweep her off her feet, pinning her down as you hover just above.

“you’re distracted. maybe less talk, more fight?” you say, breathless but triumphant.

she groans, lighting hitting the mat and rolling her eyes in frustration. there’s no real annoyance in her expression—just a mix of surprise and admiration.

before either of you can say more, your eyes flick to minji, who’s sparring with wonbin a few feet away. her movements are fluid, rapid, and sharp. something about the way she moves, so uncontrollably but with precision at the same time pulls at you.

minjeong notices the shift in your expression immediately. “see? there it is.”

you glance back at her, your grip on her wrist getting weaker as your face heats up again. 

“maybe… something,” you mumble, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

you’re standing above her, but a quick meeting between her hand and your ankle sends you falling on the mat beside her, making her laugh. another groan slips from your lips, but you smile as you get up when she does, rolling your eyes.

she sits back, watching you with an infuriatingly smug smile.

“i hate you sometimes, you know?” you grumble, shaking your head as you get up.

“you’re welcome!” she says with a light and teasing tone. “water?” she suggests.

“please.”

as you glance at minji one more time, catching her wiping sweat from her brow and laughing softly—surprisingly so—at something wonbin says, you realize minjeong isn’t entirely wrong.

—

by the end of the week you and minji haven’t spent too much time together—not alone at least. just the two of you and comfort in the air.

but now, you and minji sit on the schools rooftop, her legs dangling off the building as the moon shimmers. minji's in one piece, but your arm still has a suture covering a deep cut that’s almost fully healed—plus, there's a scratch still on your neck and pain lingering here and there.

it’s silent for a bit, your shoulders grazing then fully pressing against each other. that is, until minji breaks that quiet of the night.

"i wish i were more like you." minji states plainly, eyes angled down at the ground.

you look at her strangely, then mutter, "what?"

"sometimes i wish i could just figure out what you're thinking of sometimes." minji shrugs, “i’ve been wishing i could just make sense of things. if i could read minds and all that… maybe i could.”

"people who can't hold themselves back from doing that aren't the right ones to have my power, minji."

“i have self control, you know?” she chuckles and you raise a brow. she just shakes her head and smirks, looking back up at the moon in the sky. "i wouldn't pry into minds like that."

"sure you wouldn't." you scoff, dangling your feet.

"have you ever read my mind? other than... when i asked you to?” her voice is softer now.

"i don't like reading people's minds without permission, consent isn't just physical."

“so you haven’t…?”

“minji, i wouldn’t. not unless you ask me. i wouldn’t read any minds unless explicitly ordered, or something.”

minji turns to face you now, smiling at you. "what, you're afraid you'll like it if you read me?"

"ugh." you move your hand just a bit, your fingers softly land on top of minji's knuckles. she tightens her jaw and you smile. "you're an idiot."

"read my mind y/n." minji insists lowly, her voice near a hum. she shifts herself closer, your noses are half a finger apart. your fingers slide past her knuckles and up the back of her hand, your nails press against her just barely. "c'mon, you have my permission."

“there’s nothing in that hollow skull of yours.”

“hey!”

“am i wrong?”

“yes! just read it.”

looking at her, you shake your head lightly. minji’s smiling at you, her eyes moving from your own eyes and down to your lips here and there. she looks at you like that and you think that whatever you feel for her isn’t just maybe, it’s been a big certainly. and maybe it’s always been there, maybe she was always so nice to look at, talk to, and really just someone you were completely attracted to in the end. 

the moon shines perfectly, the wind rustles her hair just a bit, and everything falls into place.

you lean closer, tilting your head and making minji grip the edge of the rooftop. your lips ghost over hers and your eyes are half-lidded before you murmur, "i don't need to use my powers to read your mind, to know what you want.”

minji feels lips pressing against her own, immediately reciprocating and cupping your cheek with her free hand. your hand grips hers tightly as she deepens the kiss, the hand on your cheek sliding towards the back of your head and the nape of your neck.

you pull away, smiling bashfully and turning away to hide your face. minji giggles, the sound echoes in the air and makes you smile harder. her hand is still on the back of your neck and you feel her pushing your head towards her so she can press a light kiss in your hair.

when you finally turn back to meet her face to face, she's smirking smugly, the look she gives you is enough to let you know that she’s about to tease the life out of you, so you use your powers, bringing two fingers up, bending them towards you to make her gasp as she involuntarily moves forward. you kiss her lips again to stop her before some snarky remark leaves her mouth.

she manages to pull away mid-kiss to sneak in a quick, "cute," before you pull her back in by the collar of her t-shirt.

—

minji stays the night in your room, you couldn’t bear being a few rooms away from her after knowing what her lips feel and taste like.

she watches you stretch, run a hand through your hair, and sigh as you flop onto your mattress. you stay there, breathing in, out, and open your eyes just barely to look at minji, who’s still standing.

“come, don’t stand there like an idiot.” 

minji chuckles. “coming.”

she strips out of her crewneck sweater and sweatpants, to which you enjoy the scene greatly before she’s just in a tank top and boy shorts. she rubs her face before getting in bed with you both of you beside each other for a moment on yours sides, eye to eye.

you pull the blanket to cover both of you, especially minji.

“you know, i hated you so much when you first got here.” you admit, your eyes trailing down the curve of her nose and to her lips. “you almost killed me.”

“sorry about that.”

you smile, sighing contentedly. “i think getting to know you more made up for it.” you nearly whisper, then shuffle closer to kiss her lips briefly. 

minji wraps her arm around you, keeping you close to her and humming. you close your eyes, finding comfort in her warmth.

“i think i love you.” minji’s voice is practically a breath.

“i think i love you as well.”

—

the sunlight is filtered by the window, which leaves a subtle glow on your face and minji’s cheek. minjeong pushes open your door, her footsteps are a little loud as she steps inside, ready to wake you up annoyingly. 

you’re not one to sleep in, you’re actually the early bird who’s waking her up. but it’s nearly nine and training is at ten and breakfast has been ready and—

she freezes in her tracks when she sees the two of you.

you and minji are tangled together in your bed, still deep in sleep. minji’s head rests in the crook of your neck, her breath steady and warm against your skin. one of your legs is draped loosely over hers, while her arm curls protectively around your waist. the rise and fall of your chests follow after each other without any rush. slow and steady. there’s an undeniable sense of comfort in the way you’re both nestled so cozily together.

minjeong hesitates, her lips parting slightly as she takes in the scene. there’s something tender about it, something so peaceful that she almost feels guilty for intruding.

is y/n awake? 

the familiar voice of professor minho echoes in her mind, pulling her back to the moment. she grimaces slightly, knowing she’ll have to explain—and not just to the professor.

“um… not exactly,” she replies out loud, tone laced with uncertainty.

what do you mean, not exactly?

minjeong glances at the bed again, biting her lip before responding. “well, they’re still asleep. both of them. together.” she pauses, “them being y/n and minji. minji’s… kind of clinging onto y/n. really closely.”

there’s silence on the other end, a notable pause that stretches long enough for minjeong to start second guessing herself.

finally, minho’s voice cuts through again, calm and composed. 

let them sleep in. i think they need it.

minjeong blinks, slightly surprised by his response, but she can sense the faint warmth and smile in his tone.

“are you sure?” she asks, her gaze flicking back to the two of you. neither of you has stirred, both lost in the serenity of the moment. 

they’ve been through a lot. they deserve the rest, minho replies simply, the weight of his words settling over her. and you haven’t finished breakfast. ah, also, you should go and explain things to wonbin, he’ll take it fine—i would assume.

“right,” minjeong nods to herself, stepping back quietly. she closes the door with care, leaving you and minji undisturbed. when she turns around, she’s met with wonbin, who’s a few steps from your bedroom door.

“is she awake? and where is minji?” he questions, tilting his head.

“how do i explain this…”

“...what?”

“just… look into her room.”

wonbin raises a brow before stepping past her, slowly opening the door to see the same sight minjeong saw before: you, minji, and coziness etched into your features and painted in the way your limbs meet.

he doesn’t know what to say, or do. he simply stares, observing the expressions. 

“are you mad?” minjeong asks in a hushed whisper.

wonbin doesn’t respond for a moment, instead, tensing his jaw like he always does. he sighs, exhaling deeply.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen her sleep that well.” he murmurs, “she looks so… peaceful.”

“minji does too.” minjeong peeks in, agreeing with him.

“i’m not mad,” he finally answers the question, “as long as my sister is happy.”

he smiles when you turn just a bit to throw your arm over minji, pushing her closer to you as if she were a teddy bear. you mumble something incoherent and sleepily press a kiss into minji’s hair subconsciously. 

wonbin’s smile grows just a bit, then he steps out with minjeong and closes the door as quietly as he can. he starts walking towards the stairs, with minjeong catching up and walking beside him as he puts his hands in his pockets, looking ahead of him.

wonbin sighs, a mix of content and something joyous. 

“i can’t be mad when my sister’s that happy.”

[emptyultimatum]

GOOD GIRL

Avenger Loki x gender neutral!reader In which Loki changes things up a little

~ SMUT!! [ fingering, praise, light breast play, light oral, references to vaginal s3x ]

~ TW!! [ character injury but mild ]

I meant it as a joke, you thought to yourself, half ruefully, half gleefully. But as the quivering, spread legs before you revealed a dripping, fluttering cunt, you could hardly call your thoughts regret. 

It all started with the mission. Twenty-four escaped convicts, an easy night out for the Avengers. Technically, it was below Avenger status (not exactly world-saving, after all), but Tony was trying to make a good impression on the U.S. government, so the superhuman heroes spent a lot of time running errands for the White House. You and Peter were on it, an easy fix. Honestly, either one of you could’ve done it alone. 

You went left, Spider-Man went right. There were supposed to be an even split, but the numbers changed too quickly to communicate. You soared over the frigid treetops, angel wings beating the air, when a harpoon speared through your feathers. You crashed to the ground, keening with pain. 

Six criminals got away. Peter handled the other eighteen, but the damage was done. They sent Vision after the last six and helicoptered the two of them back to Stark Towers. 

Loki, as one can imagine, was distraught. 

“What happened? Parker, who did this to her? She needs medical assistance—”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Curlicues?” Tony Stark gestured to the corner with his chin. “Go over there and sit like a good girl.”

An unfamiliarly dangerous spark lit Loki’s features. You cocked your head curiously through the pain, but Tony blew him a kiss. Loki hissed through his teeth, but backed off, letting Tony scan your gaping wound.

“You know, I always wondered if these things were illusions,” Tony mused, tapping on his holographic screens. “They appear out of nowhere, it doesn’t make sense, unless—” 

“Pocket dimension,” you gritted, as Bruce Banner and Tony snapped their fingers in unison. 

“That does make sense,” Bruce said brightly.

A red syringe-shaped arm popped out of the side of the medical bed. It blasted freezing nanoparticles over the gash in your wing, then retracted. Enhanced healing patches were placed over the bruises and road rash along your arm and thighs, and Tony gave you a jar of skin-repair salve for later. A few adrenaline injections to the arm later, and you were feeling much better. 

“Can I see my boyfriend now? He might tear a hole through all nine realms if you don’t let him check on me,” you rolled your eyes, beckoning Loki over. 

He pushed past Tony, elbowing him out of the way. “Darling, are you okay?”

“You’re welcome,” Stark said. “No problem. I’ll just go over here and lick my ass, I guess.”

“Yes, do that,” Loki muttered. Tony winked at him, deadpan. 

“I’m much better,” you reassured him, flexing the wing and drawing his attention. “I heal quickly, remember? The worst was the pain, but it won’t linger.” 

“Good. Then let’s get to your bed. You need rest.” Loki scooped you up. The world wavered in a flash of green, blinding and strong, and suddenly they were back in their old, cozy room. A sweater lay, forgotten, on a chair. A few snack wrappers and… other kinds of wrappers lay scattered about the floor. 

“Oh it’s a mess,” you smacked your forehead. “Good thing they healed me in the med bay and not here.” 

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “Just take it easy, dearest.” 

“What’s got you all worried, Lo?” you laughed, cupping his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse before.” 

“Yes, but that was before we were together. Additionally, I fear I’m facing some… insecurity, as it were.” He glanced away, cheeks pinking. 

“Insecurity? About what?” 

“I- nothing. It’s no matter. We shall discuss later,” he brushed you off, standing. “Please, let me clean for you.” 

You grinned up at him. “If you say so. Thanks for cleaning for me, Loki. You’re such a good girl.” 

You put a growl on it, a low, sultry purr. The tone of voice you usually said good boy or beg for me in. You meant it as a joke, a demeaning one, a call back to Tony’s patronizing snub. 

Instead, you saw something liquify in Loki’s eyes. That same look he got when his cock was in your hands, or your teeth were sinking into his skin. 

And being yourself, you capitalized on it. 

“Do you like that?” you cooed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to be my pretty girl, Loki? My good little obedient princess?”

Oh, you had him cornered. His bottom lip trembled with thinly held control, his eyes darting back and forth, warring with himself. 

You reached up, pulling him back down, so that he kneeled before her. You locked his gaze with her own. 

“If you want to be my good girl,” you said gently, “You can.”

Loki shuddered, and slowly, his shoulders began to slough down and round off. His frame turned slighter, more slender, and his chest swelled. He was daintier, but still with the shoulder-length choppy hair and wild silver eyes. He was no he at all. She was Loki. A tall, wiry, masc Loki, with a dripping mess between her legs. 

Loki whimpered as you laughed aloud, running your hands through that silky black hair. “Oh, you pretty girl, so many tricks up your sleeve! Why don’t you strip for me, so we can see what pretty trick you have up your pants.”

You had never seen Loki undress so quickly. 

And so, here you were, Loki breathless and growling beneath you, your fingers sliding into Loki’s slippery, throbbing mess. You curled your fingers acutely, and Loki bucked up into your hand. 

“Naughty,” you cooed. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Stay still.”

“Please, love,” Loki begged, her cheeks flushed red. “Please let me cum.” 

“Behave,” you scolded. “And maybe I’ll consider it.” 

Loki let out the prettiest keening sound you’d ever heard. You giggled, leaning forward, wrapping your lips around Loki’s pulsating clit. You sucked, hard, and she moaned again, her legs clamping around your head.

“Is this the insecurity you were dealing with, pet?” you asked, stroking the pad of your thumb over Loki’s sensitive, aching clit. “Were you lost?” 

She nodded, eyes screwed shut with pleasure and humiliation. “I wasn’t sure how you’d —fuck— react.” 

You smiled, running your hand flat up her belly, cupping a tender breast, and squeezing. “Pretty girl. I’d never want you to be anything less than yourself.” 

Her eyes opened, beautiful and silver as always. Loki smiled up at you, holding your hand over her breast. “Sweet love,” she murmured. 

“Besides,” you gave her a sharklike smile. “Now I get to fuck you. Spread your legs.” 

With a whimper, she complied. 

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: gn!reader. yandere-ish law. implied medical abuse, captivity. use of restraints. non-consent due to drugging. use of needle/injection. using prompt from here. // Yandere Minific Masterlist

The world fades in and out. Breathing feels like agony. Bursts of pain rocket through you as you wake, then sleep, then wake, then sleep again. Nothing is real until it is, until you finally open your eyes and see Law standing beside you, bathed in sterile white light.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he says, something hidden behind his measured tone. “Thought I lost you there for a little while.”

Lost you…?

“But I—I was fine.” And you were fine, as far as you recalled. The skirmish was small, a rogue pirate ship trying to claim Law’s bounty was woefully underprepared when they attempted to board the Polar Tang, but you were holding your own…weren’t you? Sure, you took a few hits from dulled blades but that was nothing new and certainly nothing life-threatening. The last thing you can remember through this haze of pain and whatever is drip-drip-dripping from the I.V. bag attached to you is the feeling of being knocked forward by something heavy, a weight crushing you—then nothing, nothing until now.

You start to sit up but a thick leather strap over your chest pins you to the bed, and you’re suddenly aware of something around your wrists—handcuffs.

“Is this…” You trail off, keenly aware of Law’s predatory gaze as you start to protest. “Are these really necessary, captain?”

“It’s for your own safety,” he responds, tilting his head to stare at you, almost pityingly. “You’re too delicate. You need my protection.”

“But...I was fine.” And you were fine, the last you recalled. How in the hell could someone have gotten the jump on you so quickly?

“You only think you’re fine.” The condescension in his voice is almost palpable. Law starts to place his hand on yours and pauses, hovering just over it, just close enough you can feel the smooth latex brush your skin before he retracts and walks stiffly to the other side of the room. “Just…just let me heal your wounds, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Since when did your captain call you pet names?

You glance around the room and it looks odd—this isn’t the sick bay or the surgical theater on the Polar Tang, this is somewhere else entirely, it must be. You know your ship inside and out, you’ve restocked and organized those rooms hundreds of times and this was not your ship. Where the hell had he taken you?

“Captain,” you murmur, your throat painfully dry, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth, “where are we?”

Law freezes in place, his back to you. “We’re on the Polar Tang.”

“No.” Your heart begins to pound, breathing becomes harder. “No we aren’t. Where are we? What did you do to me?”

“Do to you?” Law turns to face you, a syringe held tightly in his hand. “How could you ever think I would hurt you?”

“Captain, please I didn’t mean—”

The heart monitor screeches as you struggle against your restraints and Law rushes to your side, shushing you as he injects something into your arm, something that burns when it hits your bloodstream, something that takes the fight out of you as it moves like magma through your veins. It’s hard to move now, your limbs heavy, eyes grainy. Your pulse slows, breaths become steady and quiet again, like a heavy blanket was dropped on you, holding you down.

“It’s all okay now,” Law coos as he mops the sweat from your brow with a damp towel. “I’ll keep you safe now. I’m not going to lose anyone else I love, not again.”

Love. The word swirls around in your mind, again and again, until everything begins to fade and all there is, as your eyes flutter shut against your will, is Law.

[discotenny]

Lost you once

Chapter 2 ~ Alone in a trap meant for me Your interrogation.

Warning for physical violence, abusive language, and drugging used against the reader insert. Basically anything that happened to Ren in his interrogation happens to reader @_@

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

You awake to laughter surrounding you. You try to move your arms but realize they’re bound behind your back. Similarly, your legs are tied together at the base of the folding chair you reside on. You don't remember why you’re here. 

“I didn’t expect it to be some brat leading this whole operation,” You feel something cold and metal poke at your cheek and you instinctively move away from the uncomfortable sensation. 

You quickly glance around the room- though there isn’t much to look at. It’s dirty and cold. Dark concrete walls with a singular tiny barred window in the center. A security camera blinks red in the corner. You try to concentrate, searching through your memories for a clue as to what brought you here. Your mind is foggy as the more you try, the less you recall. 

Your face is suddenly grabbed harshly by one hand. The sharp tip of a pen presses against your cheek the tighter it’s grasped. You’re met face to face with a guard, who inspects you with a sickening smirk. “Maybe the drug was too strong. You don’t look like you really get it, do you?” He forcibly moves your head around, laughing as you wince at his harshness. 

“Let go of me-” You try to voice your words against his hold, ready to argue your innocence. 

“Give it up!” The man recoils his hand and punches you in the face. You fall to the floor and cry out in pain. With your hands unable to break your fall, your head collides with the ground. The pen he held leaves a scratch against your cheek and suddenly you’re all too aware of the numerous bruises that litter your form. 

The guard begins to laugh as he presses his shoe against your face, rubbing it in as his mockery continues. You try to keep your eyes open, only to be met with various empty needles littering the ground. 

“I-” You try to say against his laughs. This only serves to anger him as he retracts his foot and kicks you in the stomach. You roll over in pain, curling into yourself as you try to protect yourself the best you can. Tears fall to the ground as all you can do is stifle your gasps. 

“You really think just cause you play up the innocent kid act, all your crimes will be washed away?” You hear him tsk his tongue behind you, tapping his pen against a clipboard. “Obstruction of justice, blackmail, defamation, possession of weapons. Manslaughter too? This is quite a sentence you’ve accrued for yourself.” 

Your voice is barely there as you wheeze out a reply. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about…” The room goes silent other than your continued pained breaths. You hear calm footsteps walk close behind you and brace yourself for whatever’s next. 

“Ah-!” The guard grasps you by your hair, pulling you up and forcing you to face him. Your scalp burns with the force and you stop trying to pull back, hoping it’ll give you some reprieve to follow along. His colleague stands behind him, not sparing you a glance as he writes down notes on his own clipboard. 

“You’re going to give us a written confession. Whether you know what you’re signing to or not,” He lets go of your hair for a moment to undo the handcuffs binding your arms behind you. 

In a sudden spur of adrenaline, you strike at him as soon as your hands are free. The clipboard flies across the room as you lunge towards the man. 

“You fucker-” The man grabs at your flailing arms, a syringe in one of his hands. Despite your best efforts, he wrestles you to the ground, successfully stabbing you in the neck. 

You yelp out in pain as he lets go of you, trying to stabilize yourself with your arms to no avail. You become overwhelmed with nausea, finding it hard to focus on anything other than the throbbing pain your body is in. 

A clipboard and pen is presented to you. You can barely make out the threats the guard makes, but in fear of another dose you don’t try and fight again.

Shakily, you sign your name. 

You would take the fall for the Phantom Thieves. And you could only hope Ren and Futaba’s plan would succeed despite you taking his place. 

For now though, you were subject to the whims of your captors. Despite how complacent you played to their games, anything you did resulted in a slap, beating, or screaming at your face. 

After an indeterminate amount of time and several near faints, you’re forced into a chair with a bright lamp shining at your face. 

“Best behavior, brat.” The guard warns you before leaving the room for the first time since he entered. You sit confused, blinking in adjustment at the vibrant light. 

A woman walks through the door, and through your haze you recognize who she is. 

Sae Niijima. 

“Let us begin,” she says, a hesitant concern as she looks over your state of being. “I can’t believe they’re treating you like this…” Just under her breath, you hope that you heard her right. 

It hurts to talk through the interrogation Sae puts you through. You try, to the best of your ability, explain your actions- try to reason with her despite knowing of her corrupted heart. You think you see sympathy in her eyes but you don’t know if that’s delirium from the drugs settling in your system. 

It feels like days have gone by as you sit in front of her in that sorry excuse of a box they call a room. Through foggy memories and a haze of thought you finish recounting the story of how you ended up in your current position. You try your best to behave in the way you think Ren would, to say what you needed for her to truly understand you.

You think there’s something you’re missing as she looks at you with finality. 

“It seems our time is up…” Her voice is a different tone than the overwhelming calmness throughout your entire talk. It’s more downtrodden, a simple sense of sympathy as she speaks her final words to you. “This will be my last involvement with this case. I’ve been told to let one of my coworkers see you once I leave.” 

Sae lets out a hollow chuckle. “Despite everything, you’ve held that determination in your eyes since the beginning. I’ve listened to your whole story… I might as well play along till the end.” She stands up, looking you in the eyes and giving you an unsure nod. “I’ll place my bet on you.” 

She turns to leave, with only one cursory glance your way before closing the door.

For just a few moments, you’re left alone. The pain in your side is the worst thing you’ve ever felt and the throbbing in your head only seems to get worse the more you try to think. You can tell that something’s wrong. Not just with the current situation- but the current state of you . 

You’re tired and wide awake at the same time. Hot in some areas and cold in others. Splotches of black encase your vision and when you close your eyes you’re left with the afterimages of light in front of you. You feel your heartbeat in your throat and the air from your breaths coursing through your veins. 

The door opens once more. 

You aren’t able to lift your head to meet the person’s eyes but the tan suit they don is unmistakable. 

Goro Akechi. 

You don’t have it in you to scream at him for his betrayal. To ask him why he decided to choose the path he’s on. To voice your disappointment on how you thought he was better than this. You don’t know what expression he wears. 

Your world goes black before you can do anything but brace for what he plans to do.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

For being an x reader blog, I notice I don't really show your perspective all that much @_ @ Hopefully this works well because I do want to be giving the reader insert much more of a character to actually make longer works more interesting...

[starryybrained]

The Needle’s Eye

Whumptober Day 16: “No, I can’t feel anything.”

Masterlist

Content: Lab whump/medical whump, aliens, experiment whumpee, scientist/surgeon whumper, needles/syringes, noncon drugging, restraints, manhandling, implied surgical procedure

Procedurally, the operation began before Saul was even on the table.

Already awake, he was offered the chance to go willingly. Through a speaker broadcasting from the other room, the doctor’s voice told him he would be operated on and that he could go without resistance. After all, it would be much easier to cuff him and drag him to the operating room if he let them. The offer was charitable, especially for someone like him. But of course, he refused. Why wouldn’t he? No way could he actually be tested on now. No way this could actually be happening.

Mechanical arms dropped from the ceiling, pressing him against the wall by his wrists and neck, and under them, he went rigid, knowing this was happening, whether or not he wanted it. He wished he had the heart to fight back, but he knew there was no reason to. It was futile.

A mechanical arm tipped with a syringe lowered itself in front of him, snakelike. The liquid inside was clear, almost cyan but not concentrated enough to be that color, something sharp and hypodermic. A tube funned into it, weaving around the metal of the arm, made of rubber. He stared at it, gasping hard, reality becoming slanted and wrong in front of his very eyes.

The arm almost looked like it was alive, and he glimpsed his reflection in the glass of the syringe. Terrified and delirious, he laughed. Saul never laughed, never smiled, and it was wrong, all wrong, the sound of it came out shaky and strangled. He was shaky. The arms steadied his shoulder, and with some effort, he suddenly struggled, uselessly writhing, kicking. It was to no avail. The needle pressed against his shoulder, plunging into his flesh, the plunger depressing as the sedative was injected into him. He could feel it under his skin, just barely. Then it retracted, returning to the ceiling, and Saul watched it, his body beginning to feel horribly numb.

The door to his cell clicked, unlocking, and unable to do anything more, he watched it open with a hiss of air, breathing hard as the sedative turned his limbs to jelly. Dr. Greyson entered, bringing in a gurney, and even with his head spinning, Saul was cognizant enough to know he’d end up on it.

And he did, his body puppeteered by the arms, a combination of Dr. Greyson and the mechanical limbs guided him to the gurney, flesh and metal guiding flesh. Once he was laid onto its surface, there was no pause; with a simple press of a button, Dr. Greyson activated the restraints. They appeared as if by magic, shiny and blue, across his limbs, chest, and stomach, holding him down fast.

His head spun as she transported him out. This was the first time since being brought here that he’d been able to leave his cell, yet he had no time or ability to appreciate it, the hallway around him turning into a blur of grays and silvers and blinding white. The world seemed like it was melting, bleeding into itself, making his head fuzzy. He’d completely lost the will and urge to resist, becoming a passive observer on the way to his fate. He hoped whatever they did would be quick, wouldn’t hurt. At the very least, they had to have the decency to put him under.

The world finally stopped moving.

Saul felt like he was about to vomit. Great. This was spectacular.

Thankfully, it wasn’t some voyeuristic operating theater he’d been brought to, but a relatively small, compact room. He stared at the ceiling, looking up at the jointed, surgical arms affixed to it, hoping they’d just drug him again so he wouldn’t have to worry about this anymore. The feeling was honestly nerve wracking, the type of primal fear you get from knowing something will happen and having no way to change it, the fear knowing you’re cornered and about to be brutalized.

Dr. Greyson lifted his head up and put a pillow under his neck, elevating it. Now Saul could see more of the room, the sinks, the counters laden with tools and machines, an IV next to him, hooked to nothing, tubes and wires everywhere. He watched as Dr. Greyson rolled up the right pants leg of his uniform, putting a cuff around his leg and tightening it, pulling up a monitor of his heartbeat. In real time, he watched the erratic fluttering of his hearts, measured in both numbers and graphs.

He was steeling himself, waiting for something, anything. Dr. Greyson was painfully slow with her preparations, it seemed. …Or maybe she wasn’t. Maybe Saul wasn’t perceiving things right. Whatever the case, it was becoming excruciating to lay back and wait passively.

Dr. Greyson took a box out of one of the drawers on the counters, opened it and placed the materials on a tray near Saul’s face. She washed her hands and put on a pair of gloves. They went on with a snap, blue and sterile.

She rolled up his sleeve, wiping down the inner pit of his elbow. He could smell it as she did, the scent of the antiseptic sharp. She then chose a gauge and tightened a tourniquet around his upper arm. He hissed at the feeling, the tension unbearably tight.

She then tended to the IV, getting the IV bag ready and attaching the IV line to it. She removed the cap of the needle, and in the fluorescent lighting, it gleamed.

Saul didn’t cringe at the sight, he merely braced himself for the familiar feeling of a needle entering his vein, knowing he’d have no idea what came next.

Dr. Greyson held the skin of his arm taut and inserted the needle. Saul watched as she did, unable to tear his eyes away. He had to watch. It was imperative. The needle slipped in easily with Dr. Greyson’s skillful handiwork, and it was done in less than a moment. Pressing her finger beyond the catheter tip, she undid the tourniquet. She pressed the activation button and began to wrap the IV line.

Saul’s vision was going fuzzy now, black spots dancing before his eyes. His breathing slowed further, and his thoughts began to scramble, dissolving into nonsense. He could faintly feel hands on his neck, tilting his head, murky behind a thickening film between him and reality.

His eyes grew cloudy and he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

The operation was ready to begin.

[shiftingwithmars]

“Men created literally everything! What have women ever created?🙄”

dishwashers

Wifi

life raft

airplane muffler

anti-fungal drug

beer

bulletproof fiber

car heater

chemotherapy

fire escape

geobond

globes

gifs

hairbrush

home security system

medical syringe

MBTI

naturally colored cotton

paper bag machine

pastry fork

permanent wave machine

Pertussis Vaccine

photo enhancement

radium and polonium

ReCell

Retractable dog leash

rolling pin

sanitary belt

signal flares

science fiction

space station batteries

stem cell isolation

submarine telescope and lamp

thermoelectric power generator

VoIP

waterproof leather protector

windshield wipers

computer programming

Apgar score

dna double helix

kevlar

you know, a lot of stuff that has either

A) saved your life

or

B) something you use in everyday life!

[acpharms]

Pharmaceutical APIS & Pharmaceutical Intermediates — A&C Pharma

We are pleased to have the opportunity to introduce our company A & C PharmaSpecialities LLP. We are engaged in the trading and market deepening activities for a variety of Pharma products including various API’s and Intermediates. Currently, we are providing specific market deepening services on behalf of Art International Ltd, a Pharma Trading and Indenting company based in the Middle East for three decades.

[kosmicsandshoes]

"He's still alive?" The groundskeeper questioned, peaking into the lab. His boss, the mad scientist, was bent over in a huddle-like position at the side of the cell. His undead assistant stood slouched at his side, holding a metal tray full of surgical tools. The scientist retracted his protected hand from the cell, setting an empty syringe onto the tray and pulling a tablet from his hip.

The creature in the cell let out a guttural, painful sounding scream at the sight of the groundskeeper, shovel in hand. He almost felt bad, obviously he knew what the groundskeeper's job was, and feared his presence as such. As if he didn't fear the scientist, or the assistant, or the butcher's presence just as much.

Without looking up from the tablet, the scientist nodded.

"Yes yes. It lives another day. The serum will make sure of that. It won't escape me that easily. I won't allow that, no no." The scientist spat out. The groundskeeper raised a brow, but shrugged anyway. He noted the splatter of crimson across the creature's features. That chain would surely rust sooner than later if it wasn't cleaned properly.

"The corrosiveness seems to be rising by the day. We'll have to make a more secure holding cell for it, should it figure out it has these abilities." The scientist rattled off to his rotting assistant, who merely groaned in response.

"How is it doing?" The groundskeeper asked. Frankly, he already had an idea, but he was interested in what his boss had to say.

"What what? Oh, yes yes. It seems to be coping well." The mad man stated rather matter-of-factly, completely ignoring the way the creature clawed at the metal floor beneath him, coughing violently. The saliva that flew from his mouth was a violent shade of neon green, like it was radioactive. When it made contact with the metal floor of the holding cell, it sizzled momentarily before popping out of existence, leaving only the tiniest scorch mark in its wake. The groundskeeper swallowed harshly.

That was the corrosiveness, he reckoned.

"Is that all, Brock? There should be a fresh, erm... load, yes yes, load, from the Pig Pen for you to take care of. I really must get back to the experiment." The scientist stated, trying to keep the flair of anger that aroused from his work being interrupted under wraps. The creature backed into the corner of its cage at the mention of further experimentation; the chain around its neck jingling as it whined, like a kicked dog.

A kicked mutt. Just as all bipedals were. Human or not.

The scientist sneered at the thought.

The groundskeeper gulped and dipped his head in apology.

"Yes, right. I'm sorry. I heard the screaming, and I just thought I'd check in." He explained before backing out of the doorway. He made haste down the corridor to the Pig Pen to collect his load.

That creature was going to bite back one day.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Lyrics: Nothing fucks with my baby/Nothing can get a look in on my baby (NFWMB -Hozier)

Character: August Walker (maybe he’s mean but over protective)

Take Care of You

Warnings: needles, self-doubt, illness, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: August Walker

Summary: You try to feel better with the help of your new boyfriend.

I hope I didn't go too far out to the left with his.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

“Make sure you finish your tea, honey,” his deep voice rumbles through you, the heat between your palms seeping through the prevalent chill. “It’ll make you feel better.”

You groan and sink back into the pillows, cradling the porcelain as the steam wafts up your nose. You rest it daintily above your chest. “I don’t feel like I’ll ever be better, Auggy,” you moan, “every day, I just feel worse and worse.”

He gives a tight-lipped smile, bittersweet even. He brings his fingers up to tickle the hair above his lip. Your ears pulse and your bones ache. You’ve never felt this sort of fatigue. You’re exhausted yet all you do is sleep.

“You will, I know you will,” he sits on the edge of the bed, “but we gotta listen to the professionals, right? Dr. Kemp knows what he’s talking about, okay?”

“I’m so lucky,” you cough and your head lolls as you wet your dry tongue, “so lucky to have you here…” you lift your head and raise the mug shakily. You blow across the tea before sipping it. It’s stringent but soothing.

“Of course,” he takes the script from the night table. You remember Dr. Kemp, handsome with  a swoop in his hair. “I’m lucky to be here for you, you know that.”

“N-nooo,” you shake your head weakly, “no, I… I hate to think you’re missing work for me.”

“Doctor’s orders, can’t leave you alone.”

You take another drink and stare into the orange depth. He rubs your leg and slowly retracts his hand to touch the bottom of your mug, “here, we should put this down. Just until you have your medicine.”

“Oh,” you let him take the cup but can’t hide your anxiety, “do I have to? Can’t I just have some more tylenol?”

“It’s not helping, kitten. You have to do this.”

You cringe and give a quick peak to the wrapped syringe. Oh, you hate needles. You pout and stifle a sob.

“It’s just a small prick,” he assures you as he grabs the vial.

“No, it’s not that,” you recline again, deflated, “I’m so tired of this. Of being sick. I just feel so helpless.” Your head drifts to the side, “I feel like a burden. Auggy, it’s barely three months and you’re already taking care of my like some… some old lady.”

“Shhh,” he hushes you softly, “it’s okay. You’re going to get better. You have to,” he peels away the wrapper from the syringe, “because I’m gonna take you on the best date of your life. Just like I promised.”

“Heh,” you force out a weak laugh, “you better…”

You watch him draw from the vial with the long tip of the needle. He pulls it out and you meet his gaze. You give a nervous grimace.

“What is your perfect date?” He asks, “tell me everything you ever dreamt of.”

He rests his hand on your arm and rubs it. You know he’s distracting you. You need that. You take the bait.

“Hmm, well, flowers. I love flowers. Sunflowers are nice but I guess roses are more romantic…” you look up as you think. He caresses your forearm. He’s so nice, so supportive, and it feels so unreal. You feel like you barely know him but he always knows exactly what you need.

He hums as he listens; the ferris wheel piques his attention as he tilts his head. As you weigh the option of a boat ride out load, you feel a prick and give a yipe. He quickly presses his thumb to your arm and removes the needle tip. You look down and whimper.

“All done, wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No,” you answer as you wiggle your fingers.

“See, I told you. You got this,” he looks you in the face as he sets the needle aside. He leans forward and kisses your forehead. “Finish your tea.”

He stands up and gathers up the mess, capping the needle with the plastic sheath before crunching up the wrappers. You look away. You’re so pathetic. He has to do everything. You just can’t get used to that. You weren’t like this before. You never got sick. Ever.

Not until you met him.

[thesilliestrovingalive]

Updated: December 15, 2024

Reworked Character #6: Nadia Cassel

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: Viewer discretion is advised due to references to death, neglect, sterilisation, human experimentation, abuse, kidnapping, stalking, cannibalism, and SA.

Real name: Nadège Véronique Comtois

Alias: Perky Foodie

Occupation: Private First Class of the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., fighter pilot for the Regular Army, a freelance painter, a tactical scientist for the Amadeus Syndicate (formerly), and an e-celeb supermodel (formerly)

Retirement plans: Become a professional forensic scientist, acquire a private jet, and establish an art studio and an ethical science lab

Special skills: Marksmanship, aviation skills, forensic science, knowledge of biological hazards, anatomy, and genetics, and proficiency in fashion modelling, sketching, and painting

Imperfect clone abilities: At her own will, she can rapidly regenerate missing limbs and organs, minimising blood loss and restoring her body to its original form without the need for medical aid. Her blood possesses extraordinary healing properties, capable of instantly curing non-lethal ailments, skin punctures, and all manner of burns. When Nadia opens her mouth wide and flexibly shifts her upper and lower front teeth, she reveals four syringe-like fangs, which are neatly concealed within the hard palate. These fangs enable her to consume the blood of other living beings and replenish her own lost vital fluid.

Her body is shielded from toxins and pathogens by a translucent, grease-like coating that kills threats on contact, leaving her skin with a subtle, luminous sheen. Notably, her pancreas, shielded by a thick layer of blubber, has the unique ability to produce a bile-infused silk. She utilises this silk to puke up robust, ensnaring nets that capture her victims and slowly burn them with its corrosive properties. On the palms of Nadia's hands are eyes with reseda chartreuse irises, feline pupils, and serpentine eyelids, which enable night vision and supplemental sight whenever she closes her facial eyes. Her fingernails are entirely fleshy, concealing retractable claws made of an adamantine greenish-yellow material.

Hobbies: Painting landscapes, going on shopping sprees (she often buys gifts for her comrades and friends), reading books on human and animal anatomy, genetic engineering, and forensics, messing around with flight simulation software, and eating large quantities of food after each mission

Likes: Trevor, food challenges, the Walking Machines, maintaining her figure, and sunbathing and enjoying a three-scoop ice cream cone at the beach

Dislikes: Starvation, getting unnecessarily dirty, not getting the chance to pilot the Slug Flyer or Slug Copter, people doubting her fashion advice and telling her to keep her mouth shut, and individuals that she views as scary and incapable of having fun (such as Tequila and Eri)

Favourite food: Coq au vin, phaal curry, and anything sweet and sugary

Favourite drink: Cotton candy soda

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Gender: Female

Age: 12 (in 2022), 18 (in 2028), 20 (in 2030), 22 (in 2032), 24 (in 2034), 31 (in 2041), 33 (in 2043), 34 (in 2044), and 37 (in 2047)

Blood type: B+

Weight: 120 lbs. (54 kg)

Design: She’s a 5’ 4” (162.56 cm) French ectomorph with a gracefully thin body, small breasts, curvaceous hips, sloping shoulders, and a serpentine tongue covered in microscopic spikes. She has limestone skin and possesses feline-like pupils that transform into vertical slits only when she opens her mouth wide enough to reveal her concealed fangs. Her eyes are heterochromatic with her right eye being a warm amber, while her left eye is grey-green with brown flecks. Nadia has a few moles: one on the right side of her chin; one near the corner of her left eye; two above her left breast; one on the back of her right hand; and one slightly below her right knee.

She has raspberry red hair with voluminous curls that reach the middle of her upper back, but she often ties it into two pigtails with stretchy reseda green hair bands. She has a silvery-pink birthmark on her left shoulder, almost shaped like a crescent moon with three protruding spikes. A large circular patch on her upper back is stripped of skin, exposing crimson muscles and purplish veins, and her greenish-yellow spine is partially protruding.

Her military gear consists of a metal dog tag necklace with her name, an avocado green tank top, and the same knee pads and socks as Nadia Cassel from Metal Slug 4. She wears Argentine blue neoprene gloves, reseda green leather belt with a snap-on silver buckle, and a champagne-hued vest with the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. insignia on the back. She wears navy blue army cargo pants tucked into twilight lavender combat boots with spiked soles. She also wears a dirty white lab coat, a case for her stun gun, and a gun holster for a handgun. Underneath her uniform, she wears an identical bikini to Everlasting Summer Nadia's.

The pockets of Nadia’s vest carry around a pocket knife, a notepad, two pens (one red and one blue), a black cellphone with a metallic green case, and a bag of pecans. In the pockets of her lab coat, she carries a caramel-filled chocolate candy bar in silver wrapping and a small pine-wood box of strawberry frosted sugar cookies. She wears a forest green waist pack containing a bottle of laxatives and two blood packs for snacking. Attached to the left side of her belt is a square-shaped pouch with a clear plastic window, showcasing balls of bubblegum and lollipops in different colours inside. The pouch features an amaranth pink outline, feline ears with bluish-white fur, a pistachio-hued strap with a black button clasp, and a metallic silver zipper.

Over her tank top, she dons a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) with a MultiCam pattern, which carries around her walkie-talkie and ammo for other firearms. She wears two dark brown bandoliers that cross over her body in an X-shape, each holding grenades. Nadia carries around a navy blue load-bearing backpack that contains camping equipment, portable ammo boxes, a canteen full of water, a 7.62mm AR-10 Autorifle, a medical kit, a DOLL bodysuit, and liquid and pill bottles of cures and deadly chemicals. She carries Melekhai, an orange-and-white cat plushie with blue eyes and an emerald green business tie, along with greenish-black gas masks reminiscent of those worn by the Ptolemaic Army special forces, to distribute to her teammates in need of one. She also carries around a painting kit, her mint green sketchbook with bubblegum pink polka dots, and a set of drawing pencils with two erasers and a sharpener.

She also wields a specialised rifle that fires needles containing transformative liquids, capable of altering humans into simian or mantis creatures. Additionally, she carries purplish rolling bombs that contain mummifying breath and throwable canisters filled with a zombie-inducing orangish phlegm that explodes upon impact. She wears safety goggles, star-shaped lavender spinel earrings that dangle from her ears, and a non-dangling peridot belly ring piercing.

Character summary: She boasts swift wit and inventive verbal humour, often outsmarting her foes with clever sabotage tactics. Despite being a childish, happy-go-lucky, and sassy goofball, she has a surprisingly intelligent and cynical side, but she loves to indulge her silly and jubilant nature. Due to her fondness for her exceptional intellect, she sometimes perceives other people as “intellectually inferior” to herself. She conceals her bitterness and wariness of strangers behind a facade of playful teasing, mischievous pranks, sarcastic remarks, and a charming smile. She cherishes her friendship with Trevor, who is her first true best friend. She appreciates his laid-back nature and ability to understand her effortlessly. Over time, she has developed subtle romantic feelings for him, largely due to his hacking expertise and the enjoyable quality time they share. However, she has become adept at concealing these emotions.

She enjoys taking her friends on shopping sprees, blending social time with style consultations. She demonstrates her loyalty to her friends by nurturing their relationships and showing platonic affection, often showering them with hugs and kisses. She's a fearless advocate for herself and others, refusing to tolerate bullying or any form of mistreatment, and will boldly speak out against it. She has a fondness for assigning nicknames to those around her, including friends and foes alike. She uses Melekhai for stress relief and often talks to the plushie about her frustrations and disappointments, and is willing to share him with others who need some comfort.

She's a friendly, humorous, and talkative busybody with a passion for creative expression and thrill-seeking adventures, which give her a taste of what it truly means to live. Despite efforts to maintain her supermodel figure, she has developed mild bulimia nervosa; while trying to resist the urge, she sometimes purges after eating. Additionally, she struggles with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), manifesting as a fear of contamination, anxiety about misplacing valuable items, and a need for order and balance. She also experiences distressing thoughts, including fears of losing control, harming loved ones, and intrusive thoughts about sexual subjects. Whenever she hears about child abuse or unethical experiments, she becomes visibly shaken, her mind goes numb, and she withdraws socially for a few hours, succumbing to a melancholic state.

She takes a disturbing pleasure in obliterating her enemies, often letting out a maniacal laugh as she does so. Her humour is a unique blend of lighthearted and dark, peppered with French phrases, occasional broken English (a reminder that it's not her first language), and sprinkled with Korean expressions that Trevor has taught her. Outside of military work, she often dodges unwanted tasks by concocting elaborate schemes (frequently with Trevor's help) to avoid them. However, her plans often backfire, resulting in trouble for neglecting her duties. Moreover, she has a tendency to slack off during missions, especially when she becomes bored and her attention wanders to more exciting things. When she gets into trouble, especially when it involves people she has convinced to join her antics, she often tries to deflect responsibility by feigning innocence and shifting the blame onto others.

She possesses a fairly compassionate, laid-back disposition, which she only reveals to those closest to her. She's overconfident about her looks and seems unfazed by how people react to her inhuman features, yet she draws the line at absurd and unattainable beauty standards. She's deadly serious when needed and isn't afraid to intimidate people or berate individuals for doing something irrational or dangerous. She has a strong disdain for individuals who exhibit predatory behaviour, such as perverts and stalkers, and is unafraid to call them out and mock their actions mercilessly. She despises unnecessary secrecy and eugenics, opposing the lack of transparency and the racist underpinnings of genetic manipulation aimed at "improving" human populations.

She's quite gluttonous and becomes quickly hangry when she's extremely hungry and there's nothing to eat at the moment. She's an eavesdropper with a curious habit of inspecting, poking, probing, and even biting anything that piques her interest. She grapples with touch starvation, feeling emotionally isolated from others, and deeply dislikes being overlooked or ignored by those around her. She harbours intense resentment towards her mother due to her neglectful behaviour and excessive focus on satisfying scientific curiosity, which comes at the expense of considering others' needs and forming meaningful connections with them. She’s appalled by her mother's callous disregard for the pain she inflicts on others as well as the secrecy surrounding their family's lineage and her status as an imperfect clone.

Backstory: Nadège Véronique Comtois was born on August 6, 2010 in Quimper, France. She was created in a test tube through advanced Martian cloning technology and the DNA of Ghyslaine Laëtitia Comtois, her clone mother and founder of the Amadeus Syndicate, in an underground laboratory. Initially, Ghyslaine's interest in Nadège was rooted in scientific curiosity. She conducted psychological and sociological experiments to explore the similarities and differences between them. Ghyslaine would overfeed Nadège, only to discover that her daughter had an abnormal metabolism, making it challenging for her to gain weight. Unintentionally, Ghyslaine fueled Nadège's affection for junk food.

At age 7, Ghyslaine subjected Nadège to a disturbing and unethical experiment, forcibly inducing puberty and sterilising her daughter as part of a eugenics test. During this period, Nadège longed to experience the outside world and connect with her clone mother. Unfortunately, Ghyslaine's focus on research led her to neglect Nadège’s emotional needs. She treated her more like a guinea pig than a human being, providing minimal motherly comfort and attention.

At the age of 9, Ghyslaine decided it was time for Nadège to explore the outside world, which filled her clone daughter with excitement. Together, Nadège experienced her first-ever outing to a shopping district and explored several notable attractions in Quimper, including the Breton County Museum, the Fine Arts Museum, and the Faience Museum. She received Melekhai as a reward for being well-behaved, and she still holds onto the plushie very dearly since it was the first heartfelt gift her clone mother gave her. Her experience with the outside world sparked Nadège’s curiosity in modelling and the creative arts.

However, her mother had other plans. Ghyslaine envisioned Nadège following in her footsteps as a renowned scientist and eventual heir to the Amadeus Syndicate. To nurture this ambition, Ghyslaine frequently presented Nadège with books on biology and chemistry, encouraging her to delve into the sciences. She encouraged Nadège to cover the unusual features on her palms and upper back by wearing neoprene gloves and modest clothing in order to avoid drawing unnecessary attention or judgement from others.

By the age of 11, Nadège had become proficient in biology and chemistry, thanks to her mother's guidance. She began attending school after being previously homeschooled by Ghyslaine and other Amadeus Syndicate scientists. Although her school years were uneventful, Nadia occasionally faced bullying due to her intense interests in science, modelling, and the creative arts, as well as her unusual habit of wearing neoprene gloves to conceal her hand-eyes.

However, the bullying ceased after rumours circulated that she had intimidated and bitten a school bully by revealing her hidden snake fangs—a claim that was surprisingly true. Nadège’s clone mother was indifferent to her academic pursuits but drew a firm line at harming others and divulging confidential information about the Amadeus Syndicate. When Ghyslaine learned about this incident, she smacked her in the face, then confined her to a padded room with two blood bags and a fresh corpse for three hours. As dinnertime approached, Nadège's hunger grew, leading her to make the desperate decision to consume the contents of the blood bags and feed on the fresh corpse.

During her high school years, Nadège frequently skipped classes to go shopping, feeling that she already possessed a strong grasp of the material being taught in her courses. To avoid arousing suspicion about her exceptional intelligence, she intentionally performed poorly on a few tests. During this time, she experienced significant weight gain, which unfortunately led to bullying and negative comments about her appearance. However, she handled the situation with confidence and resilience, effectively standing up for herself and dismissing the hurtful remarks. After completing high school, she promptly enrolled in a two-year college art program, specialising in landscape drawing for animation studios, before pursuing forensic science at the university level.

While pursuing her forensic studies at university, Nadège unexpectedly catapulted to fame as an e-celebrity supermodel, adopting the pseudonym Nadia Cassel. Driven by a passion for fashion and curiosity about the modelling world, she embarked on this venture independently, without management, and solely for her own enjoyment. Although her rise to fame was modest at best, she didn't mind because she revelled in the opportunity to be herself and try something new. As her university studies grew increasingly demanding and stressful, she found it challenging to balance her modelling career. Seeking support, she hired a model manager, who turned out to be unexpectedly kind and helpful. He broadened her knowledge of the fashion and modelling industries.

However, as her fame as an e-celeb supermodel grew, she started to attract unwanted attention from predatory individuals, which caused her significant distress. Her situation intensified when she inadvertently revealed her hand-eyes and exposed spine during a livestream, leading to an escalation of online harassment. After a deranged fan attempted to kidnap and sexually assault her, she empowered herself by obtaining a gun licence and rigorously training to use a firearm, becoming a skilled markswoman.

The stress of her forensic studies and the pressures of being a supermodel took a toll on Nadia's mental health, leading to the development of OCD and bulimia nervosa. Her struggles with maintaining a strict diet, keeping her model-worthy figure, and need for control became overwhelming. Her modelling manager grew concerned about her unusually voracious appetite, fixation on her body weight, and increasing frustration when things didn't go as planned. He advised her to consider taking a step back from modelling or quitting altogether to focus on her well-being.

After a two-day break, Nadège made the decision to quit modelling as her mental health issues began to impact her studies. However, she kept the name of her e-celeb persona because she liked it. Although she has left the world of modeling, she remains in touch with her former modeling manager, and they have become good friends. In a disturbing incident, she recalls defending herself against a stalker who attempted to assault and cannibalise her in her own home. The attack led to her involuntarily consuming the stalker's blood, unleashing a sadistic streak she never knew she had.

Once her forensic studies have been completed, Nadia prioritised fitness to maintain her physical well-being. After learning about the Regular Army’s vigorous exercise programs and their pressing need for pilots, Nadia decided to enlist in their tactical operations. Following her licensure and military training, Ghyslaine granted Nadia permission to join the Amadeus Syndicate as a tactical scientist. She proved to be highly successful, making a name for herself as she pushed the boundaries of scientific understanding in biology and chemistry. Nadia supplied the Regular Army with stable bioweapons, gas masks, and advocated for training recruits on the dangers of biological hazards.

While searching Ghyslaine's office for documents for a chemical experiment, she stumbled upon classified test results revealing her true nature: an imperfect clone. The discovery shook her to her core. Further investigation led her to her clone mother's journal, exposing a dark family legacy of illicit collaborations with government agencies, inhumane wildlife experimentation, and development of devastating bioweapons and malicious computer viruses. Most alarming, however, was Ghyslaine's megalomaniacal plan for global domination and self-deification. Horrified, she contemplated abandoning the Syndicate, yet for mysterious reasons, she chose to stay.

During her work on a disease cure in South Africa, Nadia uncovered disturbing information: Ghyslaine sexually assaulted Marco, who was injured at the time. This traumatic event had far-reaching consequences, severely straining relations between the Regular Army and the Amadeus Syndicate. Horrified by Ghyslaine's actions, she quietly ditched the Amadeus Syndicate, dedicating herself to defending Earth against global threats. She vaguely recalls attempting to poison Ghyslaine by lacing her bitter coffee with powdered cyanide, but the plan backfired when another scientist accidentally drank from the cup instead.

She eventually joined the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. after befriending Fio and earning a sliver of respect from Eri. This was due to her impressive performance as a prospective agent, where she swiftly identified the chemical composition of a new illicit drug that had been baffling the Intelligence Agency. She achieved this by obtaining crucial documents and conducting rigorous, ethical experiments. Following the Survival Island Occupation, she provided crucial assistance to the hostages and kidnapped cadets who had been transformed into grotesque simian and mantis creatures, administering cures that successfully restored them to their human form.

[anactualdump]

Could you explain Thumpers/Dredgers in excruciating detail? : 3 all the way down to how they are constructed, their use, their transport, their purpose, materials used, what would happen if one was settled and activated directly down vs slanted if there is any difference, whatever happened in Attempt #141 and their influence on spawns.

XDD your wish is my command 🫡

Originally (in lore) it's an actual dredger, then turned to look more like a drill and no one ever bothered to change the name

the bottom are like roots that cling on hard similar to tree roots (so its difficult to move them)

sorry i forgot where i put all my thumper drawings 🧍‍♀️

the roots themselves are these kinds of robots(no need to fully watch it, you can just see how it works haha)

but they're entirely inspired by thumpers from half life 2 merged with the size of the citadel

(can't believe i forgot to mention the influence of valve games from previous yap session, its one of the main inspos. tho its a pretty popular media and i used so much sfx and designs from it so maybe its obvious XD)

👇when it works, it should sound like this (i love half life sm did you know)

Thumpers / Land Killers are an exclusively respawn technology so i intended it to never be completely understood how it's made. Most materials are respawn-made as opposed to man-made.

I will say it's very much alive. they're clones from the vault (from ep4 porlivium script) to operate them as naturally alive as can be from the inside without too much input from third parties. all they need is the command to activate

its all mostly constructed under sea and is one of the few instances that any materials under the melting point of porlivium are used.

because they need to use those alive in the vault, they must keep them in a cold temperature (coma lol) to prevent the thumpers from accidentally activating, so it also allows them to use materials they can't before.

Their purpose was originally to plug up spawn based sinkholes (any tunnels directly leading to limbo) but soon changed to "killing islands" seeing how effectively it's destroyed and sunken the land around it, and has been tested to remove unclaimed small islands off the map (usually nearby porlivium and jekischear) hence the name.

Then, remade to straight up do the opposite of what it's made for and digging up more respawn sinkholes. For contidel though, it's more used for the purpose of sinking it.

It's deployed via planes (as seen at the end of the happening video in episode 5). underneath is a syringe-like structure, but is actually very flexible. it works like a drill with a pulse moving similarly to earthworms on the inside (so it looks like it's thumping but it's moving itself deeper)

while at the same time sucking up all the land below it to dispose of it from the top. reference to the dredger image above and also this if you want to curse yourself 🤣🤣🤣

like the clam, it'll be able to reposition itself even when fully toppled down. the building looking structure is like the shell, and it can retract and expand as it pleases (when intentionally slanted like what ui did, it will retract its main body in panic)

first it roots itself to the ground, then when activated, the "thumps" digs it deeper into the ground, using the roots as underground hands to sort of swim in the ground. the roots too can retract like any creature when in reaction to pain or third party movement

as for the event in attempt #141, its less influence on spawns than the influence of polaroid being a porlivean, so ui wasn't affected at all

orders are emdedded in porliveans to work like primal instincts, and primal instincts to survive are "programmed out"

(i'll be working on a comic that may explain a bit of this within polaroid's soul era)

with the thumper screaming (i mean, ui and pol pretty much ripped off their oxygen syringes, and putting it back is like painful splinters lol), being made from both living things and respawns, were like a cry for pain and for orders, and merging it together kept getting convoluted into a game of telephone

🤔🤔🤔 it's a merge of phrases i guess, let my try and set an example of the meanings progressing

"It hurts"

"I need orders"

"I need orders to hurt"

"It's very painful to be ordered"

"Orders should be painful"

"Orders should feel like you're dying"

"Dying is a good order"

"Pain is order"

"We are ordered to die"

to porliveans, they will follow anything xD so polaroid pretty much killed himself when understanding that- and interprets his current purpose should be dying, because dying is an order

his original purpose is already exaggerated (from his own idea of doing better): to bring back souls, mutinous respawns

to

kill them all and add on more souls by killing the living

and to polaroid, killing the living also means killing himself. so, it's part of the order, and he does so when he's told directly

It's only a one time thing though, as it's a new feeling for them. the thumpers get used to pain quickly (and are more confused than anything) so once that panic scream is out of the way, they kinda just stop and wait for orders even if their flesh is getting dug alive

then you might wonder if thumpers need resources to survive like food. at first yes, the oxygen tubes pol and ui removed were for their breathing for each living thing that's not a respawn

but it's actually cycling so there's no actual oxygen anymore and is reused carbon dioxide (hehe portal reference), and by then the thumpers don't need anything anymore from merging with respawns. so, they're essentially gigantic orthodites and hosts XD

are they still sentient? well sure, if you ask certain parts of them that may or may not respond

bonus

[transmutationisms]

do you think vaccines should be mandatory? my view has always been that public health would outweigh personal choice in this instance but i also see the bodily autonomy argument, though ultimately i think it’s flawed and weird to compare, say, abortions with vaccines. i was wondering if you had an opinion or any resources on this topic?

this is one of those questions where i think the framing conceals a lot of unspoken premises and social/political assumptions. what do we even mean by a vaccine mandate in the first place? the truth is that in many contexts, vaccines are already mandatory—the trick is that these mandates are generally designed and first enforced by employers, schools, and private business establishments, rather than coming through direct state intervention. incidentally, most censorship works similarly, despite it also being positioned discursively as a matter of direct state intervention. the truth is that you are far more likely to run into problems if you, say, have an employer who requires vaccination—which makes your paycheck (that is, your ability to continue living) dependent on a medical intervention—than you are to face some kind of right-winger fear fantasy of a shadowy government agent showing up to your doorstep with a syringe. these things happen by economic coercion far more than through direct state command.

with that in mind, to me the issue that 'vaccine mandates' point to isn't so much an idealist conflict between 'safety' and 'liberty' or however nyt is framing it these days—rather, it's the fact that employers have the structural position to impose their will on employees, who often must comply or face, literally, starvation. i am willing to say this is a bad social structure despite the fact that in the case of vaccines i obviously agree that the particular intervention in question is a good thing, and is something that anyone who is medically eligible should be getting. in order to make vaccines mandatory, you need an enforcement mechanism—the one we currently primarily rely on is economic coercion in the form of threatening loss of livelihood (again, this also applies to most censorship cases). while i, again, strenuously think that people who can get vaccinated should do so, in order to make such a thing compulsory you have to confront the issue of what power structures make the compulsion possible and actionable. prisons? relying on the political whims and economic threats of employers? too often, a 'mandatory vaccine' is presented as though it could be ethically debated in the abstract, without reference to these conditions!

anyway, i'm not going to pretend that i can solve vaccine hesitancy in the next 90 seconds in a tumblr post, but off the top of my head here are some factors i think are major contributors to this issue:

ableism (eg, andrew wakefield preying on the fact that many parents would rather risk their children catching preventable dangerous diseases than let them be supposedly exposed to a greater chance of becoming autistic)

public distrust of physicians and public health infrastructure, for reasons ranging from medical racism and eugenics to discomfiting and traumatic experiences with the inherently (in this system) power-imbalanced relationship between medical professionals and patients

the massive gap between expert and lay knowledge on medical topics, enforced by mechanisms like paywalls and benefitting the prestige and pecuniary enrichment of physicians and public health experts (this provides fertile ground for grifters and liars to prey on people's confusion and difficulty verifying information)

possibilities for lies about vaccines to lead to financial enrichment, as in the case of social media grifts, heterodox and alternative medical practitioners, or eg andrew wakefield trying to sell his own vaccine after publishing his now-retracted paper on the supposed link between autism and the mmr vaccine

these are all bad things; they are also all actionable things. i do not think that it's some kind of transhistorical condition of humanity that we must choose between either passing each other dangerous diseases or designing coercive or punitive measures to force compliance with public health recommendations. i think all of these things are in fact very directly resultant of capitalism, the way it values bodies and health (biopolitics), and its politics of knowledge and expertise.