#trust me by my standards this is almost uncomfortably informal

[vizthedatum]

It all still bothers me, so I am writing about it again.

I keep going between empathic compassion and resentment for a past ex-friend. How do I forgive myself and them?

It doesn't matter now anyway - I don't want them back in my life, and I don't think they would want to be my friend either after I told them all the ways I felt disrespected by them, criticized their primary partnership (I think I'm really not okay with some of the things I've heard and witnessed), criticized how they treat their friends, and other judgemental remarks. Yeah I was very upset.

I think I felt really unheard in that friendship (and we dated for a brief period of time - right around the time of my breakup with my ex-spouse - what a whirlwind).

I infodumped on them a lot - I really wanted to trust them. We were both neurodivergent and I thought they liked to talk? They didn't tell me their boundaries with the quantity of information sharing until I started bringing up stuff that I felt hurt by towards the end of the friendship - it just sucks because they told me that they loved paragraph texting before we began to do that with each other.

The friendship was full of contradictions.

And I honestly think they didn't understand me, which doesn't mean they were a bad person.

I just thought I could trust them? But our perceptions of things were so different, and I don't think I can really forgive them for not taking me as seriously as they should have when I separated from my ex-spouse. We were dating, I filed a PFA, and they stayed social media friends with my ex (who they weren't close to at all!) until my ex started talking about taking a trip (then my ex-friend realized my ex was full of bullshit about covid precautions and stuff). To be honest? They put me at legal risk - and it felt like an emotional betrayal.

--

This is edited for privacy, but last summer, I wrote down reasons why I felt emotionally uncomfortable continuing with the friendship, regardless of their intentions (which I think were maybe neglectful and not malicious? my other friend thinks it was more purposeful): (

This is phrased as a letter to them - a letter I didn't send; I just chose to try to converse with them, and then I chose not to meet up to talk about it all and ended the friendship.

I also acknowledge that a lot of this was written during a summer when I was going through a very serious healing phase, the finalization of my divorce, the almost death of one of my friends, etc.

Before I ended the friendship, they did provide their perspectives but it didn't really change how hurt I felt, nor did I understand if they wanted me in their life or not - I didn't feel like I was valued or understood.

) --

Dear [Name of ex-friend],

I value our friendship and want to maintain it. I’ve been gaining more clarity, especially after moving apartments. I love talking to you, but I think I talk to you too much.

I acknowledge that I emotionally dump on you a lot. You have supported me a lot. You validate me, and you’re there for me. I love being your friend. Thank you for hanging out with me and coming to my bday party and all of it. Seriously.

But I think I’m “too much” for you.

In my gut, I do not feel emotionally safe with you anymore, and I need to listen to myself. Even if I’m wrong. This is so hard for me.

There are a lot of things that I kind of swept under the rug while we were casually dating and/or just talking. I think you’re beautiful and extremely attractive, but it was very hard for me to be sexual with you or motivated to perform. I felt like I didn’t truly have an inkling of what you wanted, you were very stoned/dissociated, and it puzzled me to dom you. I have a lot of kink experience in both good and not-so-good relationships, but I truly did not feel desired (at least to my standard). It hurt me, and I felt rejected. Sexual emptiness makes a huge dent in my mind, and I’m not going to delude myself into the fake resilience of saying it doesn’t. I can get over it with time, but I should not have been sexual with you. I fuck to have fun (but more to connect) but also I need people to be real with me or the sex isn’t fun.

I also cannot get over the following observations:

On our last date, you visibly and audibly sneered (and told me something like “there’s a lot I don’t know about you”) when I told you about a recovered memory of a rape that happened when I was young. I don’t know if you remember it differently, but that type of response was highly inappropriate. (I only brought it up because we were talking about the context of the trauma I just experienced and because we were talking about mutual memory recovery processes with our respective trauma)

You act wildly different online than in person (and then even differently in groups). I chalk it up to anxiety, trauma, and autism - but I think you're masking your discomfort. I cannot trust you to tell me how you actually feel.

You were at least Instagram friends with [ex-spouse] until they mentioned something about going to LA - which means you didn't unfriend them when I told you and everyone else it was domestic violence. And… you and I were fucking dating so what the actual fuck.

You freaked out far more than anyone else did when you read my PFA statement. I wish you had set a boundary with me instead of trying to help me.

You agreed to go with me to one of my medical appointments, but it was so clear that you were uncomfortable with it. The only way I got you to admit that you didn't want to go was when I started telling you what my procedure entailed - I saw you go pale (which I knew you would) and retract your offer (which you shouldn't have even offered). It was so rude.

I think it got weird btwn [name of frustrating person for other reasons], you, and me. You choose to be in that relationship despite both of y'all's attachment issues (I admit that I also have toxic attachment issues). You are frequently not fulfilled by their lack of reciprocity. I was never jealous. It is so confusing. You are one of the only people I can talk to about them… and despite you saying that you don't divulge my thoughts/processing about them (of which there are a lot) to them - I think you have. I do not believe you.

[My other ex] laughed in my face when I told them something I wanted to do with you, and while they're too chicken-shit to explain themselves, I think I know why now.

You accepted the end of our sexual relationship way too easily. It is one thing to accept my new boundaries (which, yeah, you should) - but we didn't actually talk about any of the stuff that came up. AND you didn't really apologize for your behavior. I was going through shit, and I had to emotionally take care of you. I wish you had just left or not come at all if you couldn’t deal. I also felt like you made me out to be sexually pushy - and I was trying my utmost best not to be sexual because I saw how uncomfortable you were. I honestly wanted to pause the movie and kick you out of the apartment. Our last date was so fucked up that I couldn't sleep and cried the whole night after. All my partners do not treat me like that - they can either put up a boundary or understand how I’m feeling… and realize that my trauma does not define who I am.

This is on me, but I honestly went on sexual abstinence in December because I felt like you would judge me if I didn’t. My psychiatrist said I didn’t have to - and it was really messing with me. I felt like you didn’t want to have sex with me because of my trauma which is really hypocritical but fine. Valid. But also I feared your emotional energy if I told you I was sexual with other people. Even when I sent you sexy pictures, I felt like you wrote it off. The way you approach sexuality brings up my inner slut-shaming triggers. Sigh.

You got triggered when I crashed at your place after I left my ex, and then you couldn't let me stay there even though you had the room. It is valid to do what you did - but we were dating, you told me that night that I put you into sub-space while we were making out which I didn't intend to do (and I think you only told me that because you were personally uncomfortable with my situation), you knew that I was desperate, I felt like you wrote me off as too traumatized to help/be intimate with/be around/idk (just tell me!), you were scared to help, you didn't actually help… you didn't support me (other than emotionally supporting me through messaging - which I don't actually know if you want to do). And many of my other friends did. I could be real with them, and they didn’t view me differently.

You (along with [other ex-partner]) did not contribute one cent to my gofundme - and you financially could have. While I can manage - I seriously needed the support at that time. I would have paid you back.

It feels like you judge me when I tell you about my sexual partners and exploits - and I can tell. Please tell me I'm wrong. I really want you to tell me and prove I'm wrong.

I feel judged in general. I really do. I feel like you mock me for how I am, and I don’t know exactly why I feel this way, but I do.

My new boundaries:

No touching or hugging at all.

You cannot come into my home until I say so.

We can hang but outside of our homes - I do genuinely want to hang out with you.

No spellwork that involves me at all - not even a cord cutting. I do not trust your energy.

Lets not talk about our partners or sexual dalliances anymore (apart from: “I’m busy with so and so”).

I cannot talk about [frustrating person's name who probably didn't understand that they were talking to two autistic traumatized people] with you anymore - it is putting me back. I am not jealous of what both of you have - and I really hope it fulfills you both. I deserve more than what they can offer, and I also feel like you don’t really emotionally grasp how hard all of it was for me. It was fun and fantasy, yes, but it was also meaningful emotionally for me (despite their lack of reciprocity and my toxic chasing attitude).

We can text and emotionally support each other about our lives but I will not text back during work hours (roughly 7-5 during wknds) or when I have partner-time unless it’s an emergency.

What are your thoughts? What are your boundaries?

Sincerely, [My name]

[opalescentegg]

‘Princess Tutu’ and the Absent Fish:  An Informal Essay

Anyone familiar with Princess Tutu will recognize and appreciate its masterful melding of diverse fairytale and sometimes mythic elements --- may the record show that I’m no different.  Nevertheless, there is one particular sequence in Ahiru’s heart-shard-hunting quest that never felt quite right: the heart-shard of Curiosity (alternatively, the Desire for Knowledge).  Or, more precisely, it’s the River that always bothered me.

As a one-off magical narrative conceit there’s really nothing wrong with the River having the heart-shard.  Thanks to the episode regarding the heart-shard of Affection, it was already established by that point that non-human(oid) entities could become bearers of pieces of the Prince’s heart.  So the River as heart-shard-holder was at least consistent within the narrative’s internal logic.  What I think I was recognizing through my dissatisfaction with the River, though without even fully comprehending it, was instead a sudden break with what I will term the “chain of motif.”  To put it another way:  every other heart-shard, up until the final five from the town gates, is connected is some way to a recognizable fairytale motif and/or structure; all except for the heart-shard of Curiosity.

For an illustration of heart-shards and their associated motifs, with the specific elements that identify the motifs (where sources give different translations for the known heart-shard emotions I will provide both), I present the following:

1. Disappointment/Bitterness  --  Swan Lake: admittedly, this is mostly in the music and “set design” of the episode which, along with the short-lived (one-sided) dancing rivalry between Anteaterina and Rue, are probably mostly meant to serve as a introducing the central motif of the show.  Additional possible foreshadowing of the thematic conflict between Ahiru/Tutu and Rue/Kraehe later on, though this claim is much more tentative.

2. Loneliness  --  Hansel and Gretel: a house in the woods, a story revolving around food, fear (though here ultimately unfounded) of being eaten

3. Sorrow/Sadness  --  Giselle: taken directly from the ballet, which itself draws from the folklore of willis/vilas that, depending on the tradition, are variously described as ghosts, fairies, nymphs, etc.  I’d also like to point out that the design of the willis fulfills the visual requirements of the White Lady of so many European (and Euro-influenced) countries.

4. Affection  --  Not a single tale-type, but calls upon a conglomeration of magical light folklore, i.e. will-o’-the-wisps (leading people astray, as the Lamp’s riddles led Ahiru not so much astray, but certainly to where the spirit wanted her), the genie in the (oil) lamp, etc.  (I also recall someone once posting about an Andersen tale in which an old street lamp reminisces on all the things it’s seen in its life, much like the Lamp-spirit.  However, while a strong argument can certainly be made for this story being the inspiration for the Lamp, it’s a pretty obscure one from HCA’s repertoire, so I believe the strength of the lamp motif comes mostly from the examples I have highlighted.)

5. Fear  --  Sleeping Beauty: for obvious reasons.  (There are also shades of the Grimms’ “The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was,” but that’s a real stretch to fully justify, even for me.)

6. Curiosity/Desire for Knowledge  -- ??????

7. Devotion  -- “The Red Shoes,” Andersen: since the magical black pointe shoes Rue slips into seem to have a similar unsettling degree of autonomy to Andersen’s eponymous footwear.  The fact that they cause a transformation that slashes at Rue with thorny vines is also a nearly sadistic inversion (intentional or not, who can say?) of the Anderson story, wherein the sinful girl is at last relieved of her suffering when an angel, carrying a branch blooming with roses, finally grants her mercy and takes her up to Heaven.   I can also see possible shades of Pygmalion in Malen’s obsession with drawing Rue, though her fixation may be argued as serving more to highlight the themes of lack of control and destructive self-sacrifice implicit in the HCA tale, which I still see as the overriding motif here.

8. Regret  --  Cinderella: the episode musical motif, plus the element of the “ball,” or at least a gathering of multiple people (and crow demons?) in a single location.  Charon even plays the part of, first, the “step-parent” who refuses to let his ward attend that event, but eventually transitions into the role “fairy godmother” who furnishes the ward with the physical necessities he needs to go out and do what he wants.  (Amusingly, this makes Ahiru either a bait-and-switch/red herring Cinderella, OR makes her and Fakir a kind of composite Cinderella, each one fulfilling different aspects of the motif -- possible foreshadowing for later partnership, courage described as “two hearts as one,” etc.)

9. Love  --  The title of the episode introducing this heart-shard is “La Sylphide,” though it doesn’t have much in common with the eponymous ballet.  What it does have is the first very recognizable instance of full-on witchcraft in the show, which is undeniably a strong and instantly identifiable fairytale element.  The curse Rue places on this shard also positions her as the “false bride,” from such tales where one woman either kills, curses, or brings low and supplants a “true bride” in order to take that woman’s lover for herself.

10. Pride  --  The Flying Dutchman: In which a man is punished for his sins usually implied, and sometimes outright stated, to be a slight against God performed in a bout of hubris; and cursed to wander and/or continue their mortal duties without rest for all eternity.  Whether they were cursed with immortality or simply exist as spirits unable to enter Heaven or Hell varies between tellings, but the framework is essentially the same.  (This is almost certainly a later variant of a story type I would prefer not to call by name, but involves “Wandering”; though since that protagonist is always cursed with immortality and never becomes a spirit, it’s a tale-type that is at best tangentially related to the motif I’ve chosen anyway.)  

11. Hope -- Swan Lake; The Little Mermaid; The Ugly Duckling; etc.: for obvious reasons again.

Fairy tales and folklore rely heavily on patterns.  In adopting and adapting these stories to craft its own narrative, PT also inherits those formulas.  But the heart-shard of Curiosity does not fit the pattern --- in fact, it seems not to have parallels with any recognizable tale pattern at all.

What is particularly strange is the presence in the episode of many of the building blocks of a very famous folklore motif, and one made all the more conspicuous by its absence from the narrative.  That is: the motif of the ring in the fish.

As far as age is concerned this motif goes back a long way, along one of two variant branches.  One: the ring that is lost, despaired of, and miraculously returned to great joy (and often used as a token of recognition).  Two: the ring that is the catalyst, lynchpin, etc. of some undesirable future event, which the owner tries to throw away in an attempt to dodge destiny and which inevitably comes back to him, the ring here being a tangible reminder of the inescapability of fate.

Of these variants the first is by far the most common.  Arguably the most internationally famous tales of this variant is that of Solomon’s ring, which provides the basic structure many later tales of the branch: King Solomon’s (magic) signet ring was stolen by a demon and cast into the ocean, whereupon it was swallowed by a fish.  Years later, a fisherman caught a fish which was then cooked and served to Solomon, who cut it open to find his ring in its belly.  (The ring here also acts as an indisputable identifier of the true Solomon, who had been reduced to a pauper by the aforementioned demon after losing his ring, since the demon could shapeshift and had assumed the king’s form.  The retrieval of the ring restored Solomon to his true form, allowed him to vanquish the demon, and retake his rightful place as king.  Many ring-in-fish stories conclude with the ring acting as absolute proof of a character’s identity, often in a “recognition” or “reveal” scene.)

 In contrast to this story is that of Polycrates and his ring.  On the advice (and possibly prophecy) of the king of Egypt, Polycrates the tyrant of Samos is told to cast away that possession which he values post, lest his overabundance of success raise the ire of the gods and cause them strike him down.  Polycrates attempted to do so, casting into the sea his prized emerald ring, which caused him much grief.  However, not long after a fisherman brought a fish as tribute to the tyrant; when Polycrates had it gutted his ring was found in its belly, proof that he could not escape his disastrous fate (indeed, he was eventually overthrown and assassinated, possibly by being impaled and his corpse then crucified).

The object cast into the water (typically a piece of jewelry) varies depending on a story: a ring, a necklace, a bracelet, and anklet, etc., though I think the particular emphasis on encircling jewelry is an important detail.  Sometimes the object is simply a gemstone --- also important in this discussion, given the curiously jewel-like appearance of the heart-shards.  

In any case, the basic plot of “[thing] in water  -  [thing] in fish  -  capture of fish  -  [thing] back in hand” (or, even more simplistically: a valuable object lost in water and found later in an unexpected place), is found in sources ranging from Sanskrit dramas to Irish mythology.  Even Hans Christian Andersen famously refurbished it in his “Steadfast Tin Soldier.”  And speaking of Irish mythology, the Fenian cycle famously includes a tale about culture hero Fionn mac Cumhaill and the Salmon of Knowledge.  

(For the uninitiated:  A salmon ate nine hazelnuts that fell into the Well of Wisdom, gaining all the world’s knowledge, and the first person to eat of its flesh would likewise gain that knowledge.  The poet Finegas/Finn Eces, to whom Fionn was then a servant, caught the fish after many years and told Fionn to cook it while he attended to other matters, but not to eat it.  Fionn (surprisingly) followed this directive, until he poked at the fish to check its doneness and burned his finger in the hot fat --- a finger which he immediately stuck into his mouth to soothe, only to thereby ingest the drop of the salmon’s fat and gain the knowledge contained therein.  Upon learning of this, Finegas gave Fionn the rest of the fish to eat, and Fionn gained all the world’s knowledge.)

The motif of a fish associated with great knowledge lends itself well as a base element for a hypothetical holder of the heart-shard of Curiosity, especially when combined with that of the ring in the fish/returning ring.  The latter motif is essentially part of the episode anyway.  After all, there’s a clear instance of jewelry being cast into water --- when Ahiru throws her pendant (an encircling necklace) into the River so that she’ll no longer have to act as Princess Tutu and bring pain to Mytho.  While her necklace is never miraculously returned to her, she nevertheless recovers it, and so fulfills the bare-bones conditions of the tale type.  

The fact that this outcome was exactly what Drosselmeyer wanted would have paralleled the theme of inescapable fate we find in the story of Polycrates’ ring.  In doing so, it would have raised the stakes of one of PT’s central conflicts (do these people even have free will, and if they do can they exercise it successfully to escape tragedy?), making the push and pull that much more dynamic and the tension even more taut.  Because the returned ring motif would have (seemingly) implied an early answer:  No.  The “ring” always returns, and the fate it symbolizes is therefore set in stone.  It’s a pattern we’re all familiar with, even if our recognition of it isn’t always conscious.  But therein lies the problem.  For seemingly no reason, in this episode PT decides to disrupt the pattern.

These are the fairy tale element building blocks we have to work with in the episode:

Water

Something lost (two somethings, in this case: the necklace and the heart-shard; one is lost purposefully in the water, the other by happenstance)

The return of things lost

Later on (continuing into a couple of the following episodes), we are even given:

A recognition scene, brought about by the thing lost in the water

The heart-shard, once recovered and then stolen by Kraehe, leads to Rue’s eventual “recognition” of herself as Kraehe.  It keeps asking her who she is and why she wears black feathers, forcing her into a psychological conflict lasting two episodes.  Unlike a returned ring the heart-shard is not itself hard proof of her identity, but it nonetheless forces the question of identity to the forefront of Rue’s consciousness from the depths of her denial --- it is the catalyst of revelation, if not its direct agent.

(This isn’t even touching on Ahiru’s pendant becoming the element by which Fakir later identifies her as Princess Tutu, and which was also retrieved from the water.)

But, curiously, no fish to be found anywhere.  Very odd, considering that the fish is most often the narrative element that ties all the others together.  It’s the device that keeps the plot from stopping dead after the valuable “something” is lost.  

The closest we get is, well, Ahiru herself.  She is the one who retrieves her necklace from the River, after all.  One could say it’s also when she’s at her most fish-like, since it’s one of the few times we see her fully submerged in water.  But I find this an unsatisfying answer for the absence of the fish.  If nothing else, it lacks the gestative image of a shining ring (or necklace or jewel) sitting quietly in the cold of a piscine belly, generating all sorts of connotations relating to rebirth, fertility, protection, and so on.  While not strictly necessary to the function of a returning ring story, the image nevertheless strikes me as wonderfully evocative and symbolic, which may well account for so many returning ring tales coming down to us as ring-in-fish tales.  

No aquatic creature of any type is part of the encounter with the heart-shard of Curiosity.  (Unless we again count Ahiru, though her being in her mostly-human Tutu aspect --- the one most removed from her aquatic duck form --- strains this interpretation past the point of credulity in my opinion.)  Perhaps the most perplexing thing about this heart-shard is how the River itself is what holds it.  Not even a personification of the River, i.e. a nereid, nymph, kelpie, undine, rusalka, or a few dozen other types of aquatic folklore creatures.  Other aquatic animals were eschewed as well, though if the writers didn’t want to use a fish is would have still been a good opportunity to include a frog, already associated with retrieving golden balls from wells (speaking of valuable round things lost in the water).  And as far as I know, there just aren’t that many stories which feature sentient, non-anthropomorphized bodies of water; the element is obscure at best if it exists at all, certainly isn’t part of any recognizable tale types.  It does not fit the pattern presented by the other narrative building blocks.

It’s a conundrum I can’t quite parse.  If the writers were already including so many of the elements of a common and well-known tale type, why the glaring omission of the element second in importance only to the lost object itself?  The truth is, I don’t have any good answers.

I mean, I can still theorize of course.  For example, it’s entirely possible that the heart-shard was swallowed and held by an ordinary fish at some point (the show establishes that regular, non-anthropomorphic animals live in the town as well), but then the fish simply died and the heart-shard then reverted to the River.  The only problem with this theory is that there is absolutely nothing within the text of the show to support it, and in no way impacts the story we see play out in the show.

And so, what are we left with?  There’s a hole in the story structure with nothing to fill it; a fish story that, like all those tall tales that inspired the idiom, never produces a fish.  But perhaps that, itself, is the best conclusion we can draw from this incomplete tale; the definition of the colloquial “fish story”: a great big lie.  Whether as intentional foreshadowing or just a glitch of human error, by omitting the fish the show writers tipped their hand.  If a ring-in-fish story can so conspicuously become just a variety of “fish story,” then the credibility of all the fairytale structures we see in the show must be called into question.  If the fish is missing from its own tale type, what else might be missing?  If essential elements are missing from certain established story structures, how are those stories still progressing beyond their natural lifespan?  If fairytale plots, with all their adherence to patterns and formulas, are the “truth” of this reality, what might it mean when the pattern is so obviously disrupted?

If Drosselmeyer meant to trap a town in a fairytale for all eternity, he overestimated the sturdiness of traditionally oral story structures.  The tales they produce are narrative bricolage, held together with the spit and chewing gum of predictable conventions and the skill of the storyteller.  Lose one key element, and unless you can convincingly slot another in post haste the entire fabric of the story will unravel in your hands.  Drosselmeyer cast his Story’s net wide and strong, but I suspect even that turned out to be subject to degradation and decomposition.  Holes were inevitable.  This one was just big enough for a single fish to slip through, and with it the first hint about the truth of the Story, carried like a ring in its belly.

[talesofsonicasura]

LMK Sun Wukong and Macaque with MK's Parent: First Week Revelations

Here's the next part of this. Like the title suggests this will focus on Sun Wukong and Macaque first week in the peerage. I won't that I put a gut punch in this one. Consequences of your actions after all. Also for people bashing Sun Wukong for the whole LBD thing, give the poor guy a break.

Miscommunication is very common especially for a character like him. Someone who had to carry the world on his shoulders but never gotten the proper chance to learn he can't do everything alone. This is a bit wordy btw. Anyway... Can be read gender neutral or preferred gender. Enjoy.

If someone told Sun Wukong or Macaque that they'll be joining a vampiric peerage with their archenemy, both would laugh. Now, not so much as today they would be working under their former student's inhuman parent.

Neither monkey were ignorant about the chance of becoming errand boys under you. They hurt your kid thus you'll make them pay in some way is an all time high. Best to face it head on as they were required to come early in the morning.

It had been a bit awkward walking into the estate. For Sun Wukong, full on uncomfortable as you brought him alongside Macaque to stand before all your workers. A group introduction for new members.

The biggest surprise had been when their former apprentice walked in. The MK both yaoguai were used to wasn't like the one approaching his much larger parent. What stood before them isn't the kind hearted delivery boy they knew.

This is a young man who not only meant business but apparently isn't fully human. A person whose ears were brown and pink rabbit ones similar to hands, three little brown horns poking from underneath the hair on the crown on his head and pink markings strewn across his body with a now peaceful almost angelic aura. Next to him was a little brown rabbit with similar traits.

You must've read their minds as you spoke. "I found out my son had a severe heart condition that would one day take his life similar to a phantom. Digimon don't exactly have hearts but we have something better: a Digicore. Medi, his Lopmon partner, shared her Digicore with MK to save his life."

Ah. Both monkeys guess that would explain the young man's rabbit traits. It didn't stop the severe concern upon realizing MK once had a heart condition. Neither monkey bothered to check his health records or even ask before they toss him into training.

If Macaque had a twinge of guilt from this information, he wouldn't admit it. He may be an asshole but even he has standards. A thought to delve on later once you announced their roles for the first week.

They were right about being put in a maid position but you made it a whole lot worse. How? Macaque and Sun Wukong were forced to watch MK train under his new mentor alongside you.

A huge punch to their pride seeing the brunette excel much better than when they trained him. MK sparring on his own Somersault Cloud against his Gokuwmon teacher. Both almost equally matched. Your words made these sessions hurt more.

"MK holds a lot of potential. You two have seen it. The reason he struggled before is simple. None of you fully trusted him. Teacher and Student must properly convey their thoughts or worries. Measure their opinions. Most importantly trust in each other's capabilities."

Sun Wukong and Macaque knew you were right. The Monkey King truly didn't take his former student as seriously as he should. A lot of problems could've been dealt with better or even avoided completely.

To the Six Eared Macaque, he had ignore the best student that could ever fall into his lap. Willingly toss it away to spite his former 'associate'. It stung further when MK requested their presence.

"You do know that both of you hurt me with your actions? Macaque, I don't give shit about whatever you have against the Monkey King. Keep it to yourself or you'll drag the wrong person into it. It's pathetic cause you'll just be an empty husk afterwards, one with an innocent body in the grave." What was said to Sun Wukong is just heartbreaking.

"You know I believed in you right? The few books I could find about the Journey To The West in my parent's library gave me hope. YOU had been one of the few things to keep me going against the dangers of the Dark Area. Guess the saying 'Never meet your heroes' held some truth after all."

If both monkeys (unhealthily) coped over those words, neither of them would tell anyone. Macaque tore apart training dummies until he couldn't move. Sun Wukong breaking out the stash of ancient peach wine.

The two completely unaware that you were watching through the Mark of Evil branded on their skin. Empathy brimming from your form as you started to make a few calls.

"I believe it's time for these old yaoguai to get proper help. Best to start out small so both can grow with least possible retaliation. I have a feeling actual therapy should be saved later."

You uploaded something from the laptop that sat by your desk. Neither Sun Wukong and Macaque notice their respective marks softly began to glow nor what would come from it.

It looks our GranDracmon!reader is up to something sneaky. In my personal opinion, Sun Wukong has a stash of very old peach flavored liquor that he indulges on his days. The Monkey King is canonically a lightweight in the original Journey To The West too. His monkeys take care of him once the alcohol takes effect. They are very worried about him if you are wondering.

As for what got sent to them, you'll find out in the next headcanon. Now for MK, he is half Digimon but this is a side effect from his surgery.

I'll be talking about this in full length on a separate page but Digicore Sharing is going to be uncommon in any Digimon related stuff from me. I choose Lopmon to be the donor than Reader for a special reason.

Until next time folks, here's Lopmon!

[skelemira]

Horrorfell Paps x reader?? Feel free not to (also you're a cool person and I'm glad you exist)

Oooh my first time writing Horrorfell Paps!!!

And just bc you didn't specify (and bc u deserve the best~) imma give you both hcs and a lil drabble!!! (Also bc writing hcs first might get me in the mindset to write Horrorfell Paps for the first time!)

(After note: imma do the drabble another time bc I got home late and I'm super drained lol but someone feel free to remind me to do it!)

Kinda long so I'm gonna put it under here

Horrorfell Paps x Reader! (I don't have names for the Horrorfell bros yet so I'm just gonna call him Papyrus)

Hcs:

*He is not one to mince words. He is going to say exactly what he means to say and he is going to give you blunt honesty. He's not going to be malicious about his honesty, and he still knows when to be tactful in revealing information, but if you ask for his opinion he is going to be honest.

*But that makes compliments from him all the more flustering, because when someone unflinchingly honest tells you that they think you did (insert hobby or skill here) very well, then that is high freaking praise and you know they mean it with every bit of their being.

*He's fiercely overprotective for obvious reasons. In the starving Fell underground, you had to fight for everything you had constantly. So when you find something as precious as a mate? You protect that to your dying breath and Papyrus is not only very strong and fast, but he is insanely clever and creative in coming up with ways to protect what is his. It can get a little much sometimes, like when you want to go to your friend's house and he doesn't want you to leave the house without him, or when you want to go grocery shopping when he's at work, but he is rational, so most times you can explain how you have defensive weapons and him on speed dial and how this location is well lit and has security in place, and he will see reason. He's not trying to keep you from the world he's just... Seen the horrible things the world can have in it and he wants to keep those things from you as much as he can.

*He's romantic but is often pretty subtle about it. There was no room for big gestures in the Underground, so the ways you showed your love (besides with food) were with small gestures, by moving the sofa you see your partner keeps stubbing their toe on, or fluffing the pillows on their bed when you've noticed they had a long day. Little things that you could easily write off as something other than romantic gestures. His love language is mostly food, but every once in a while you'll come home and your sheets are freshly laundered or your favorite fruit is freshly cut up on a plate in the kitchen or taking your car to go get groceries and filling it up on the way back. Small things that are practical but help make your day better.

*He's not really opposed to touch (read: this mans is touch-starved as all heck) but, bc of the Underground, he was taught that touch was for harming, never for showing affection. So when you first reach out to hold his hand or put your hand on his femur or something he tenses up. Almost imperceptibly, but you notice. You're a little hurt until you realize what I said above about how he probably wasn't used to showing affection through touch. (Some might say that he just isn't affectionate but you've seen the little signs and ways he shows his affection that may not be obvious to other people, but with him you notice everything.) So gradually you help him grow comfortable with touch. (Normally you wouldn't push, some people aren't okay with touch, that's fine, but you saw him hiding just how desperately he wanted physical affection). You, of course, stop if he ever gets uncomfortable but it goes quite well and eventually he feels comfortable hugging you out of the blue and even holding you while you both sleep. He's still not initiating a lot of physical touch, but he is receptive.

Wow that was a long hc lol uhhh onto a couple more then the drabble!

*He likes to be the only one to handle food. He's not obsessive about it (he nearly is but shhh he's working on it) but he likes his kitchen a certain way and it's just... It's easier for his piece of mind if he decides how much of something is made and how it is made. Sometimes he lets you help cook or bake (baking isn't his strong suit) but most times it's him in the kitchen or (on the rare occasions that you have takeout) you get it at the restaurant or it's from a restaurant he trusts.

*When he does eventually get comfortable enough for physical touch you are ever ever allowed to touch his cracks or scars. The first time, when you do it unknowingly, he actually flinches and gently explains to you (with his body tense and his fangs gritted tightly) to please never touch those parts of him. (He doesn't explain this to you, but he doesn't actually mind the scars, they show he's tough and they show he's a fighter but..... He doesn't want your perfect innocent fingers having to touch the flawed (in his mind) parts of him.

*His ideal date? Doing a puzzle with you with gentle jazz playing in the background. Though he "complains" about it "not having enough spikes to truly be fun" you can tell that he's enjoying figuring out something with you like this in a calm and peaceful environment where he knows he's safe. He makes a meal and, instead of eating at the dinner table, he declares it a special occasion and has you both at on the couch, chatting about the puzzles and each other's day. He's still watching you eat carefully, though, and making sure you get plenty of healthy food to eat.

*On that note, if you aren't at least a little chubby he considers himself to have failed in his job of feeding you, regardless of what those ridiculous human beauty standards say. (If you have trouble gaining weight for whatever reason, though, and you explain that to him, he understands and will back off a little and will stop trying to give you extra portions at dinner.)

*He signs sometimes because his jaw aches, of course you help him get to a dentist and an optometrist to get glasses and braces (though it's a battle of wills to get him to admit he needs help), but some days his jaws ache too much to talk, so he taught you sign language, writing down what he was saying in the early days of you learning.

I hope you enjoyed the headcanons Kat, sorry I couldn't finish the drabble tonight but I will write that as soon as I can!!! It was fun getting to know Horrorfell Paps and maybe one day I'll name him lol!

[spookysweet-heart]

Vacancy

Request: No

Fandom: Battle Egos

Pairings: Battle Egos x Self insert

Warnings: NSFW, blood, cursing, gore, death of character.

A/N: Time to kick off October to a spooky start! Here part one, and two. this is part three of the on going Scream AU with the Battle Boys! hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Collage was made by me!  Edited by @semiproeagle!

       Gale set the air mattress next to Riot’s bed, bringing in fresh blankets and pillows for the both of them. “Alright, remember the door stays open. If you need anything, our room is just down the hall, and the bathroom is right across from it.”

“Thanks, mom. We got it.” Riot closed one of the windows by his bed. “Hey, uh, do you mind if I close the curtains?”

Fluffing up one of the pillows, Kimberly looked over at him, shaking her head. “No, go ahead. I sleep better in the dark anyway. Light just makes me uncomfortable.”

“What are you? A vampire?” Riot giggled at his joke but quickly stopped when he saw his mom glare at him.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to get comfortable.” Gale smiles, walking out of the room, making sure to keep the door open as she walked down the hall.

“Your mom’s nice.” Kimberly sat down on Riot’s bed. Crossing her legs, she watched him make the bed he’d be using.

“Yeah well, you haven’t seen her get angry yet. Just you wait, my mom can be a real bitch when she wants to be.” Riot looked up at her, his eyes landing on her blood-stained shirt. “I feel like you could use a clean shirt to sleep in. I don’t think you wanna sleep in that, do you?”

Looking down at her clothes, Kimberly only shrugged. “Yeah, but I didn’t exactly plan on almost being murdered on my first night here.”

Riot walked over to his dresser and pulled out some of his clothes. He tossed them over to her, giving her a sympathetic smile. “You can use mine. I’ll um- I’m gonna go shower. You can change in here and leave your clothes with my mom. She can wash them for you.”

“You know, you don’t have to do this-”

Riot interrupts her before she can finish. “I want to. I don’t want you to feel like you should push yourself away from us when we can help.”

“Help?” Raising an eyebrow at him, she leaned in a bit. “Help with what exactly?”

“Y-you know, making friends...feeling comfortable with us when everyone’s probably going to be pointing fingers at you tomorrow.” Gathering his things, Riot quickly made his way to the door. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound bad. But it’s just...Lexi and I went through all that in middle school and the beginning of high school. I just don't want it to happen to someone else who’s in our position.”

“I can handle it myself, I always have. But thanks...I’m sorry. I’m just not used to people being...kind? I guess. Not many have been throughout my life.”

“I get it. Well, uh, yeah I’m gonna go shower. If you need anything, you know where my mom is.” Heading to the bathroom, Riot glanced into his mom’s room, seeing she was on the phone, probably talking to his dad. Getting into the bathroom, he locked the door before taking out his phone and sending a text to a group chat with Mare and Bones. ‘Is the camera working?’

Mare was the one to reply first. ‘Up and running.’

Bones replied right after. ‘Guys, why the fuck are you setting up a camera in Riot's room?’

‘Kimberly’s sleeping in there, duh.’

‘Mare is this just so you can see her undress?!?!’

‘Bones, don’t act so shocked, it’s Mare.’

‘And you’re helping him do it Riot, what the fuck!’

‘Hey, he gave me $40 to do this. Besides, it’s harmless. It’s not like he’s getting full nudity.’

‘PG-13 at best, Bones. Just enjoy it.’

‘No thanks, I might not trust her, but I’m not gonna be a perv towards her.’

Riot rolled his eyes and left the chat alone while he got ready to shower.

While carefully taking off her shirt, Kimberly looked at her bandaged-up arm, seeing red spots from underneath where the blood seeped through. Sighing, she looked down at the shirt Riot gave her, but before she could put it on, she looked around the room, feeling uncomfortable. “You’re in a stranger’s room, of course, you're feeling uncomfortable.” Feeling the strap of her bra start to slide down her shoulder, she picked it up quickly with her good arm, not wanting to risk him walking back into the room if he forgot something. After pulling on the shirt as fast as she could, she folded her clothes and took them with her down the hall.

Standing in the doorway, she was about to make her presence known until she saw Gale was on the phone. 

Looking out her window, Gale sighed, feeling exhausted. “Are you sure? Well, what are we going to do? We can’t let her go back there. The girls went through enough already. Yeah no, I know that Dewey. We’ll talk more when you get home. I’m just glad you’re okay. Love you too.” Ending the call, Gale turned around and tossed her phone onto the bed, only to be startled when she realized Kimberly was standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ how long have you just been standing there?!”

“Um, just now?” Kimberly nervously looked at her clothes before looking up at Gale. “I’m sorry I startled you, but Riot said I could leave my clothes with you to wash.”

“Right, I’ll take them. You go get some rest.” Gale walked over to take the clothes from her hands and noticed her arm. “I’m going to have to wake you up a bit earlier to look at your arm. That okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks again for letting me stay the night.” Handing her the clothes, Kimberly made her way back down the hall to Riot’s room. Sitting back down on the bed, she looked around the room at the movie posters he had on his walls. A lot of them were your standard horror movies like Halloween, Friday The 13th, Night Of The Living Dead, but one stood out from the bunch. A poster from the first Stab movie was hung by one of the windows.

“Why does he have this one?”

“Maybe because I like the movie?” Quickly turning to look in the direction of the door, Kimberly saw Riot walking towards the bed. “Might be fucked up for liking something that happened to my parents, but it was interesting to see.”

“You think that's interesting? I think that's disturbing.”

“So movies based on true events are only interesting to you when they aren’t directly based on something close to home?” 

Kimberly leaned away when Riot leaned in, his hair still wet from the shower. Moving her hand away from him when she felt the drops of water land on the back of her hand, she wiped it off on her shirt. “Yeah, when your brother was the real villain, that tends to do that to you.”

“Oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me you weren’t just a bit curious about him.” Riot sat next to her on the bed, almost shoulder to shoulder despite all the space he had.

“Never, since my dad wouldn’t stop talking about him, comparing me to him nonstop, showing me those articles when I was a kid. That shit changes your perspective.”

“Yeah, but have you ever thought about doing what he and Stu did?”

Shoving a pillow into his face, she made him fall onto the air mattress. “Shut up and go to sleep. You have no fucking right to ask that kind of shit. What’s gotten into you?”

“Hey, I was just kidding. Seriously, that movie is only interesting to me 'cause the acting is so over the top, it’s hilarious. But I did get you going with that act, didn’t I?” Riot had a goofy smile on his face while tossing the pillow back.

Kimberly rolled her eyes at him, getting comfortable in bed as she faced him while laying down on her side. “You’re fucking weird, you know that?”

“I was just trying to be funny.” Riot sat up and stretched a bit. “Lights off?”

“Yeah. Night.” Taking off her glasses, she put them down on the bedside table.

Turning off the light, Riot glanced over in the direction of the hidden camera. Reaching for one of his books, he leaned it against the camera, blocking the view of his bed before getting comfortable.

Back at the Prescott house, Lexi and Sidney were laying in Sidney’s bed. Lexi rested her head against her mom’s chest, just barely being able to keep herself awake any longer. 

“How do you know they won’t come back?”

Sidney gently pats down some of Lexi’s hair, holding her closer as she kissed the top of her head. “I’m not so sure, but it’s something I can handle if they do. I’m sorry this is happening to you.”

Lexi hugged Sidney back, being careful of her arm. “This isn’t your fault, mom. No one could’ve predicted this would happen again."

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“Well, I’m in it, and there’s nothing we can do about it but fight back, right? I’ll be fine, though. I have the strongest woman in Woodsboro by my side.” Lexi sleepily smiled up at Sidney.

“Alright, kiddo, get some rest. Are you sure you’re up to going to school tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I know things will be fine there, at least.” 

“Alright. Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight…” Sidney stretched her free arm out to turn off the bedside lamp before falling asleep, watching the blue and red lights shine into her bedroom from the window near her bed.

~

Sitting at the kitchen table, Riot worked on the last few problems from his math homework while Gale finished rebandaging Kimberly’s arm. 

Dewey walked in, immediately going to fill a mug with coffee. Looking over at Gale and Kimberly, he finished filling up his mug and walked over to the table, setting his mug down. Nervously clearing his throat, he gains everyone's attention.

"Kimberly, there's some news that I have to inform you about."

"What is it?" Checking her arm to make sure the gauze was secure, she looked up at Dewey.

Dewey took a deep breath in before continuing. "It's about your godmother, Nancy. I'm sorry to tell you this after what happened last night, but she's dead. We found her body last night."

Kimberly's eyes grew wide in shock before she shook her head at Dewey. "No, I was just with her yesterday morning!"

"I know this is a lot to take in. Gale and I will be here with you, and you can stay with us-"

"Did that creep do this to her?! Did he kill her?!" Her eyes looked glossy as tears started to well up.

Dewey stuttered for a moment. "I- well- we suspect that might've been the same person because I got a call from them just before discovering the body…"

"I can't fucking believe this!" Slamming her hand against the table made Riot and Gale jump in their seats.

"Honey, it's going to be okay, we'll be here-"

Riot quickly closed his book and shoved it in his backpack. "I think we should leave. I still have to pick up Lexi and Phantom. Let's go, Kimberly." Taking her hand, he led her away from his parents and out of the house before they could say anything else to her.

Getting in the car’s passenger seat, Kimberly hit the dashboard in frustration.

“Hey! I get you’re going through it right now, but don't try to take it out on my car, I just got it.” Riot closed his door when he got into the car. Looking over at her, he started to feel bad seeing her start to cry. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Taking a deep breath in and out, she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “It’s just...she was all I had left of a family.”

“I’m sorry.” Riot sighs as he starts the car. “Do you want some coffee? Or anything to eat? We can stop by and get something real quick. My treat.”

Shaking her head, she just silently put on her seat belt. “It’s fine, I’m okay. If you wanna get something for yourself, you should.”

“You know what, I’m still getting you something. I don’t care if you say you’re fine. You need a little distraction right now.” Backing out of the driveway, Riot headed to the nearest cafe to get the group some drinks and breakfast before heading to pick them up.

Lexi grabbed her backpack from the couch, checking that she had everything she needed for the day. 

Sidney walked into the living room. Picking up the remote, she turned on the tv, leaving it on the morning news. “Have everything?”

“Yup.” Hearing her phone go off, she checked it and saw a text from Phantom, letting her know he was waiting outside. “Are you going to be okay here alone?”

“I’m not staying home today. I’m meeting Gale and Dewey in a bit. Are you fine having dinner at their place tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. You’re going to be there too, right?” Adjusting her bag, Lexi heard her phone go off again.

“Of course I’ll be there.” Sidney brought Lexi in for a tight hug before letting her go out the door. “Stay safe and call me or Dewey right away if you need us."

“I will. See you later!” Walking out of her house, Lexi saw Phantom standing by the end of the driveway.

Phantom smiled when she made her way to him. Taking a hold of her hand he leaned in, kissing her. 

Lexi smiled into the kiss before pulling away and kissing his cheek. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“On and off, I was too worried about you. How about you?” Phantom rubbed small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I slept, but not much. I was way too anxious last night.”

“No kidding.” Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Phantom leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be here for you though, no matter what happens.” Hearing his phone go off, Phantom took it out of his pocket to check the notification. “It’s Riot.”

“What’d he say? Is he close by?” Lexi rested her head against Phantom’s chest.

“He’s asking if we want anything from the cafe.”

Humming in response, Lexi wrapped an arm around Phantom's waist. “A muffin sounds good right now. Can you tell him he can get any kind?”

“Sure thing, babe.” Phantom smiled down at her before replying to Riot with their orders. Before he can put his phone away, he saw another text from him pop up. “Oh...shit.”

Lexi felt his body tense up a bit. “What’s wrong?”

Quickly replying to the message, Phantom put his phone away. “I feel like an even bigger asshole after last night. Riot’s dad told them they found Kimberly’s godmother dead last night, so she’s not doing so well right now.”

“Oh no, and she's going to school? She should’ve stayed home- fuck, she probably didn’t have a choice. What kind of fucked up shit is that. First her dad, and now her godmother.”

“She’s in our group now, and as much as most of us aren’t too excited about that, she’s also a victim till hopefully not proven otherwise. We can look after her, but we still need to be careful.”

“I think you and your brothers have seen too many scary movies. She’s harmless.”

“I hope you’re right…” Gently rubbing her back, Phantom rested his head on hers. “How’s your arm doing?”

“Sore, but better than last night. I can at least bend my wrist without it hurting much anymore.”

“Good. You sure you wanna go to school today?”

“You’re starting to sound like my mom.” Playfully rolling her eyes at him, she pulled away from his hold. “I’m alright. I wanna go. I don’t care what anyone is going to say if they have anything to say.”

Both turn in the direction of a car coming by when they hear it honking at them. “Looks like they’re here.”

Getting into the car, Riot immediately handed them their things after they got settled in. “Here you two go!”

Lexi smiled, taking the bag from him. “Thank you!”

“Thanks.” Phantom took the last coffee in the cup holder and carefully blew away some steam to take a sip. Glancing over at Kimberly, Phantom cleared his throat, putting the cup in one of the cup holders. “Um, Kimberly?”

Looking back at him, she tilted her head. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean what I said. It was uncalled for.”

Kimberly shook her head and looked back out her window. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not, I accused you of attempted murder when you were also attacked.”

“Look, you were scared. I get it. Just forget about it, I forgive you anyway. You were looking out for the person you care about the most. I’d do the same out of fear and protection.”

Lexi and Phantom shared a look before Lexi spoke up. “Um, we heard what happened and we want you to know we’re here if you need us. You know, for anything. We’re in this together.”

Kimberly just stayed silent for a moment. The only thing they heard was a barely audible ‘Thanks’.

~

Rose, Jem, Ebony were standing by Lexi’s locker. The three of them shared a worried look when they searched the hallway for the rest of their group. Bones made his way to them when he walked out of the restroom. 

“Still not here yet?” He leaned against one of the lockers, looking in the direction of the front doors.

Jem shook their head, looking over at Bones. “Where’s Mare? Running late again?”

“Oh yeah, he had to go with Natpai to talk to his teacher. Had to clear up that he was sick and lost his voice, so he's asking them if Natpai could take the tests he missed while he was out.”

Jem nodded and turned their attention back to the front doors when they heard people whispering as they passed by the group.

Spotting their friends, the group made their way to Riot and Lexi, immediately engulfing them in a group hug. 

Rose pulled away first, looking worried. “How are you guys holding up?”

Lexi shrugged while adjusting the strap of her bag. “I’m alright, just a few scratches here and there. Nothing serious.”

“I wasn’t the one who was attacked, so I’m fine.” Riot’s eyes followed Kimberly, watching her walk away from the group, heading to her locker.

The rest of the group heard the crowd whisper again when they passed by, their eyes all landing on Lexi and Riot. 

Sharing a look, they both sighed, already feeling tired with the day. Whispers turned completely silent when a scream echoed through the hall. All eyes were on Kimberly who was sitting on the floor after falling back when something fell from her locker. There in front of her feet was a Ghostface mask and fake knife. 

Looking around the hall, Kimberly’s eyes landed on the group, but before any of them could go up to help her, two sets of screams could be heard from the end of the hall. Looking in that direction, everyone saw two people running down the hall in full costume screaming as they passed by. 

One of them almost got in Lexi’s face, but Phantom quickly grabbed her, holding her against his chest.

Riot took a step back when the other person almost bumped right into him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what's wrong with these idiots?” Rose watched the two masked pranksters disappear out the double doors

Ebony looked over at Lexi who was shaking a little. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah just...shaken up is all.” Letting herself relax into Phantom, she took one of his hands. He gently squeezed her hand reassuringly and kissed the top of her head. 

Bones looked over in Kimberly’s direction, noticing Mare helping her up and leading her away from her locker. “Where the fuck are they going?”

Riot and Rose both looked at Bones, catching him talking to himself. Rose was about to ask what he was talking about till she saw Mare turn the corner with his arm around Kimberly’s shoulders.

“When did they get all friendly?” Rose crossed her arms in front of her chest, not happy with what she saw.

“Mare just has a way with women. Not surprising since she hardly knows him.” Ebony leaned back against the wall, looking over at the mask and knife still on the floor.

“She was probably talking to him since she got here. She’s just a slut wanting attention since no one can give it to her now.”

“Hey!” Phantom raised his voice at them, his expression turning serious from the soft look he had just a few seconds ago. “How the fuck can you say something like that? Don’t assume shit or spread rumors around like that. Especially now when people are dying around us. Mare’s just comforting her, that's it.”

“So what, now you’re on her side?! She’s a Loomis, Phantom! She can’t be trusted!” Rose stepped forward, but she was interrupted by the bell ringing.

“We’ll talk during lunch, this isn’t something we should be arguing about.” Phantom took Lexi’s hand, starting to lead her away and walk her to class.

Riot and Ebony looked at Rose before they also started to leave for their classes as well. Riot adjusted his backpack and looked back at Rose as they carefully walked backward. “You know, jealousy is not a good look on you.” Turning around, they caught up with Ebony, leaving Rose standing in the almost empty hallway.

Tag List:

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@huffle-princess​

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[writingindulgence]

Painting Nails with Gojo Satoru (x reader)

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x (unspecified-gender) reader

Genre: Good friends with some mutual pining, a bit of fluff and a bit of uncertainty, reader has their mind in the gutter for a split second 

Lmao, how long can someone write about painting nails T.T 2800+ words

When you recently mentioned that you had no free time to refresh your nails due to the influx of odd jobs here and there, you didn’t think that it would lead to your long time friend, Gojo Satoru, sneaking into your room at the Tech with a bag full of nail polish.

He was in the middle of laying them out haphazardly onto the coffee table. Colours ranging from neon bright to the darkest of shades stood before your very own eyes on full display. Their shapes were as varied as the palette. Standard round, rectangle shapes, funky stars and fragile butterflies just to name a few. 

The shock of what was transpiring had yet to register in your mind, a dumbfounded look creeping onto your face.

It wasn’t even the first time that this has occurred. Once in a while you would come back from a mission in another city, ready to fall down onto your bed in the one place that you could call home, only to have this excuse for a friend barge in on your time of relaxation. Sometimes, you didn’t inform anyone when you would be back in the hopes of being left alone but he always seemed to find out the best time to annoy you. When you were tired. 

“What the actual fuck are you doing in my room Gojo-san?”, you drop your tattered bag onto the ground before closing the door. 

The feeling of his incoming whines and guaranteed pout had become something of a sixth sense to you now. You thought that maybe he would grow out of it after his teenage years but the gods weren’t as merciful as you once believed them to be. 

“(Y/n)-channnn, why are you so mean to me? I haven’t done anything for you to call me that”, he dramatically groaned out before flopping onto your bed. 

Glancing at the table, you notice that his sudden movement knocked over some of the bottles.  

You also know what he meant by that. You only ever call him ‘Gojo-san’ when he screws up or when you are both in the presence of his students. 

As much as he likes to tease you in front of important people, you aren’t that unprofessional as to disrespect him as an educator in front of the students that he teaches. The kids already make fun of him and if you were to join in at the same time then you would begin pitying the man. 

You walk over to the sprawled lamp post of a human and indicate with your hand to scoot over before proceeding to throw yourself down beside him. 

“What is this about, Toru-kun?”, your eyes lazily scan over the nail polish. Of course you know what is going on but Gojo Satoru is a man that enjoys being humoured. 

Poor Ijichi-kun ends up as the victim of a lot of his whims when you’re away. Scratch that, even when you are around the unfortunate fellow gets bullied like a kindergartner at a playground.

“So~ I’ve noticed that your nails-,”

“I mentioned it.”

“.. have been looking rather-,”

“I mentioned it.”

“..duller than usual so-”,

“I-”, 

His body flew up from the lying position and a hand suddenly came into your view. Before you could do anything, Gojo clamped it over your mouth, an unseen eye-roll definitely going off under his blindfold. 

He wasn’t really irritated but you took it as a win for all the times he irked you in the past month.

“I NOTICED YOUR NAILS LOOKING DULLER THAN USUAL SO I WENT OUT OF MY HUMBLE WAY TO BUY THESE,” he finally lets you go after finishing what he wanted to say.

The sheets under you have become disheveled, your thrashing around to get away and shut his loud mouth in case Principal Yaga hears brought about no results. There was no rule against being in the same room, you weren’t some silly teenagers and even if you were, the Tech wasn’t that strict anyway, but the thought of his disappointing gaze burning into your soul…

Your thoughts are disrupted when Gojo throws two pillows onto the floor. Knowing that there is no escaping this, you dust down your clothes and gracefully sit down. 

Who knows? This may actually turn out to be relaxing. Even if you’re wrong then spending time with friends is precious, no matter the activity. Especially in this line of work. There is no telling when one might hear the news of their comrades’ death. 

Gojo sits on the other free pillow and smiles. “Any colour pulling you in? If not then I would love to recommend, you know, I’m sort of an expert at this.”

You laugh slightly at his confidence before agreeing to his proposal. As long as it’s not too ugly then you really don’t mind what he ends up picking. 

In fact, you trust his judgement when it comes to fashion. His casual outfits always end up taking your breath away. You’re forever glad when he forces you to go along with him to the shopping district. You know your style and what you’re comfortable with but Gojo presents you with something unique every time.

“Hmmmm...then, what about this one?”, the hand that was under his chin as he was contemplating leaves its position and he quickly picks up a (f/c) nail polish. 

The container is cute too, a glass cat face. Though how did he figure out what colour this was with that blindfold? Only Gojo knows. 

You reach out for the item but he leans back and pulls it to his chest. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“(Y/n), (Y/n), (Y/n)...,” he creates an X with his arms before continuing, “Bzzzt! Did you really think I would be so rude as to leave you alone with that tedious job? Who do you take me for?”. 

He grasps the fabric where his heart is located and fakely sniffles. Oh, so he wants to paint them for you. Figuring out that you may as well indulge in a little care, you extend your hand for him to hold. 

Gojo twists the nail brush open and dips it into the bottle a few times. His tongue is poking out as he tests how much of the liquid is on the brush. You don’t even question how he will paint your nails without seeing properly. Understanding his infinite capabilities has become second nature to you. 

Instead, you focus on the feeling of his hand when it grasps yours. 

It’s bigger and somewhat rougher, though not uncomfortable. Really, it feels secure to have around your own.

Jerking back at your line of thinking, you can feel the heat growing on your face by the second. Calm down there, no need to get ahead of yourself. You’ve held hands many times in the city before so that you don’t get ‘lost’, how is this any different?

“Hey now!,” Gojo grips your hand more firmly than before. 

“Sorry, sorry. I had an itch,” you come up with an excuse and double down when you scratch your shoulder with a free hand. 

He doesn’t say anything in return, there are none of his usual comebacks. That’s suspicious, he always needs to have the last word in no matter what. 

Instead he applies the first stroke of nail polish on one of your nails. 

His movements are steady, no shaking, and he doesn’t miss any spots. The process is...pleasant, being attended to by another. 

He moves on to your second finger, repeating the action from the previous one, applying just as much attention. 

Now that you are sitting still, barely breathing as you look on, his hold has become almost airy. Unless you focused purely on the skin to skin contact, it was as if your hand was levitating. 

Ah, technically he could be using ‘Infinity’ and keeping your hand away but...it made you feel weirdly unhappy. Your mouth tugged down in dissatisfaction unconsciously.

At the same moment, Gojo grasped the next finger on the list, the sudden feeling coming as a surprise. You barely held in the shocked gasp, tingles travelling up your arm. 

He didn’t say anything and continued the procedure. 

You peeked at his face to see if you could read him but there was nothing at all to go off on. No smile, smirk, pout or frown. 

Sheer concentration. 

It wasn’t unwelcome, in fact it was peaceful without the usual banter. And it wasn’t unbearably serious either. If you had to put a word on it then it felt...intimate.‘Wow, what the hell? Chill, he’s only a friend and this is simple nail painting’.

The clock in your room ticked continuously until eventually your fingernails were all finished. It took extra long because Gojo insisted that the proper way to do it was to paint two layers. So in the end you had to sit through another few minutes that honestly felt like an eternity. 

You hoped that you hadn't sweated with how warm it had gotten on your end.

“Alright! It’s your turn (Y/n)-chan,” he made finger guns and pointed them at your bewildered expression. 

“It isn’t fair if only you get this spa worthy treatment, no?”.

“Satoru, I think you overestimate my ability to paint nails. Of course, I do a fantastic job on myself but I am hopeless when it comes to others,” you explain. 

You may have over exaggerated a bit but if this goes on then your thoughts will enter dangerous territory, not that they haven’t already.

Distractions aren’t helpful when you are a jujutsu sorcerer, particularly in the romantic scene. 

Have you daydreamed about such scenarios? Yes. 

Would you like to experience them? Definitely. 

However, what you want and what you can have are at odds with each other.

“Don’t be a bore, come on, come on,” he sticks out his own hand before thinking up something and reaching towards his blindfold. “Let’s make it a challenge. I had such a difficult time so you have to suffer too”. 

He frees his eyesight and stands up. You’re about to follow but he shakes his head and kneels behind you. 

The smooth fabric covers your eyes and the pressure as he tightens the blindfold rubs against the back of your head. This feels like the beginning of a dirty situation-

A resounding smack travels in the enclosed room as you slap your cheeks simultaneously. This isn’t the time nor place.

“I’m accepting my resolve,” you throw out before Gojo can ask you why you hit yourself in the face. 

You hear him shuffle back to the pillow as well as glass tapping against glass. A nail polish bottle is shoved into your unprepared self. “I’m in your hands now,” he laughs stupidly to himself at his own pun. You can’t help cracking a small smile too.

Blindly, you fiddle around in front of you, wanting to start this. Clicking your tongue, you’re about to give out but Gojo finally decides to stop being a prick and gives you his hand. His shakes from laughter make themselves known but you ignore him. 

Unscrewing the bottle cap, you get to work. 

Only, you have to feel around for his fingernail. It’s impossible to hit the target without searching around first. 

You become overwhelmingly aware of the close proximity yet again and your heart skips a beat. The fact that you can’t see anything makes it far worse as your sense of touch becomes more sensitive. Your shaking hand dabs the point where you think the nail polish goes and you begin painting. 

Gojo’s amusement must have stopped too since you don’t hear him chuckling anymore. Is he looking at you? Or is he looking at his poor skin whenever you miss the fingernail? He doesn’t have his blindfold on so his eyes have to be focused on something. 

But what?

The silence becomes unmanageable and the constant skin against skin friction twists your insides. Is it just you? Or does he also think the same way?

“You know, you have pretty eyes. If you start an Instagram page with photos of them then you’ll get a following in no time,” you offhandedly mention to start a conversation. Knowing Gojo he’ll take the compliment, tease you a bit and move on. You shift around in the pillow before progressing onto the other hand, having speedrun the first, before he starts talking.

“That’s not a bad idea. You can do the eyeshadow and we can make some money,” he hums in agreement. The sound of extra cash nearly makes you drool but then a realisation hits you, like a truck an isekai protagonist. If you were to do the eyeshadow then you will no doubt have to be very close to his face. No way.

“On second thought, I don’t think we have the time,” you laugh it off. 

His disagreement comes soon after. 

“Haaaaaaah?! Then why did you mention it?”. His muscles tense, about to pull back to cross his arms but he remembers that you’re in the middle of painting his nails. 

After that, you both fall silent again. 

In the end, you get through the last finger and close the nail polish bottle. You tried your best, having taken your time despite it making you feel a certain way whenever you had to touch him longer than is necessary. 

You get up and reach out to unhook the blindfold but larger hands stop you in your tracks from behind. They pull yours away and drop them at your sides. 

“Allow the amazing gentleman, Gojo Satoru,” he gently takes it off as you stand unmoving. 

When light from the window hits your face, you scrunch your eyelids shut, waiting to adjust to the bright atmosphere. A hand patting down your hair makes them shoot open and you turn around to complain. 

Whatever you were going to say gets caught in your throat as you look up into his light blue eyes. His expression is serene, free of any worries but his eyes seem to be trying to speak a thousand words. 

They too look composed but you get the feeling that he’s trying to communicate something to you.

Swallowing, you clench your hand (conscious of the recently dry nail polish), and place it over your chest. “Satoru..um,” you pause, not fully comprehending what you want to say, or rather, how you want to say it.

Your eyes widen when you notice his hand traveling towards yours. 

Clumsily spinning around, you head for the pillows and shake off the dust that accumulated on them. 

“Thanks for today. I’ll have a nap, since I’m still tired from the flight.” 

You show your gratitude but hide the words your heart wanted to really express. 

You don’t turn around to see his expression. The sound of his blindfold going over his eyes is what you hear first. Then, 

“Don’t worry your sleepy head over it! Sweet dreams, (Y/n)”.

The door opens and closes gently behind you. 

Once you’re sure that he is far down the hallway, you throw yourself onto your bed, put the pillow over your face and scream. Feeling a little foolish, you stop and look over your nails. 

He really did a great job.

-Next Day-

The sun is shining brightly therefore there is no better time to take a walk. Which is why you aren’t surprised when you stumble upon Sukuna’s vessel, Itadori Yuuji. 

The teenager has a tub of ice cream with him. Maybe you should get some too? Gojo is bound to have some in his mini freezer.

“Ah! Hello, (L/n)-san,” the boy waves his hand in greeting and jogs over. 

“Itadori-kun, is it alright for you to be outside like this?,” you ask with concern. 

There are only a few people that know about his current state of being alive. When you heard that he died, you came as fast as possible to comfort Gojo. 

“It’s fine! Everyone is gone and Ijichi-san is on the lookout at the front gate. He’s meant to give me a ring you see”. He looks down.

“Oh! You’ve got some nice nails there,” he points out as he takes a bite out of the dessert. “You match with Gojo-sensei,” he adds after a second.

You pause your appreciative smile at his compliment. Excuse me? 

“Excuse me? Match?,” you prod him to elaborate.

The teenager scratches his cheek. 

“Ehh, but he said the plan was to match all along. Though they don't exactly look the same”.

Your eyes tear up in embarrassment at the turn of events. You’re matching nails? You thought for definite that he would wash them off when he gets back to his room. Not only that but putting the blindfold over your eyes must have been his sly way of making sure that you don't notice they're the same colour. 

Itadori shakes his hands in front of him before bowing. “I-I’m sorry (L/n)-san! I did not mean to insult the way you painted Gojo-sensei’s nails. They are a bit tactless compared to yours but that’s okay,” he apologises profusely, mistaking the root of your shame.

‘That dumbass Gojo Satoru’

[agent-cupcake]

Can I ask your opinion? So, I feel like everyone into 3H is in love with Dimitri, but I can't connect with him. I don't dislike him, but I feel like there isn't much to his personality without all his various mental health issues. It's hard to get a feel on what he's really like, so I end up just seeing him as a walking ball of trauma and not a three-dimensional character. Do you have any thoughts on Dimitri himself and how to separate him as a person from his psychological issues? Thanks!

Hmm, I guess my first thought is that everyone resonates with characters differently and so if you don’t particularly feel connected to him, that’s not wrong. Fictional parasocial relationships are very similar to real-life relationships, so it follows that nobody is going to like every character. I can’t say that a portion of my love for his character doesn’t come from his mental issues because that’s something I personally relate to and feel drawn to in others. That’s just who I am and how I build relationships. There is also something to be said for the unavoidable way mental illness informs a person’s behavior and character, it’s as much an aspect of them as being born with blond hair or losing an eye.

That said, I will do my best to explain why I think Dimitri is wonderful. Not in spite of his mental illness, but because I don’t think that’s all he is.

So, Dimitri is, as he says, a very clumsy person. This unfortunately extends to his social skills. He has a lot of very socially awkward tendencies and a general lack of self-awareness. This contrasts with his innate desire to please people, or at least avoid upsetting anyone. The thing is, Dimitri doesn’t always completely understand what upsets people or how exactly they might feel. His childhood isolation left him rather emotionally unaware and desperate for the acceptance and approval of others. That’s not to say he doesn’t try to understand other people’s feelings, but it’s not an intuitive process. He has a habit of saying kind of dumb or uncomfortable things out of nowhere, which is most likely his real feelings coming out in rather inept ways. He means well, but he’s just so dang clumsy.

The desperation to be included and validated I mentioned, I think, can be seen in the way he tries so hard to make the other Blue Lions see him as a peer and equal all the while keeping himself rather closed off from them. Dimitri approaches conversations as a means of focusing on the other person, trying to make an appeal to them rather than as an interaction where both parties could be seen as vulnerable. Of course, just like most other socially awkward introverts, he opens up when he feels closer to the person, but that takes a while. Gotta unlock the supports, you know? Although it’s not necessarily obvious, his incredibly stiff behavior (especially pre-timeskip) and the way he switches between overly formal and awkwardly friendly in his interactions with people as he tries to figure out how to socially and emotionally navigate relationships really gives me the impression of someone trying desperately to fit in without even the faintest clue of how to actually manage that. He also does his best to avoid social situations, which, mood. Basically, Dimitri’s a big dumb massive introvert trying to act like he’s not.

FURTHERMORE, he is a dork. An absolute goof of a person. Dimitri canonically thinks so-bad-its-good puns and jokes are hilarious. His own style of telling jokes is saying things that may or may not have contextual humor in a normal voice and then claiming after the fact that he intended it as such. Now, his supports with Alois are absolute factual proof of the so-bad-its-good humor, but might I also direct your attention to the scene before the battle against Miklan in Conand Tower (the event name is “Tower in a Storm (Blue Lions)”). Basically, Gilbert is explaining the history behind Conand Tower and Dimitri says, in an incredibly earnest voice, “You’re very well informed, Gilbert. Please, tell us more.” This is a joke. Supposed to be, at least. The delivery is somewhat emphasized, but not in a recognizably sarcastic way. Gilbert, who knew Dimitri very well when he was young, realizes it’s a joke after a second. But there are other things Dimitri says that I believe are his bad “jokes” and since nobody knows him well enough to tell, they don’t call him on it. There’s no proof, but his line in the Lord’s intro where he says, “And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all.” to Claude has to be an attempt at sarcasm. Dimitri is oblivious, but not stupid. In his Goddess Tower conversation with Byleth, when discussing the topic of wishes, he says, “Perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we’ll be together forever. What do you think?” In a completely normal voice. Following are two speech bubbles of “...” before he laughs and proclaims that it’s just a joke and that he’s getting better at telling them. Now, this is a two-parter because I see this as both his horribly awkward tendency to say things he feels without thinking too hard beforehand as well as his silly deadpan style of “jokes”. Granted, he does apologize. Dimitri’s got socially awkward zoomer humor. It’s endearing.

Here is a video of Dimitri hitting on Byleth pre-timeskip. I’m not sure how far it goes to endear someone to him, but the mostly awkward and occasionally smooth attempts of Dimitri’s flirtations are absolutely a highlight of his character. 

Now, this isn’t quite as cute as all that, but I think character arc and change do a lot for making a character feel more three-dimensional. Dimitri is hypocritically selfish. Although those are both negative terms, I don’t necessarily mean them as such, at least not in their totality. Both are things to overcome, which he does. And that’s why I feel like they’re a valid point of discussion when trying to explain the allure of his character.

The hypocritical part comes from the way he easily allows and forgives the flaws of others while constantly castigating himself for the same reasons. He says things that show an absurd amount of a lack of self-awareness. For example, he tells Edelgard, “Hm. You will prove a lacking ruler yourself if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those whom you rely on.” All the while straight-up lying to and emotionally avoiding his friends. Dimitri also tells Marianne, when she is punishing herself for putting other people at risk, “What matters is that they came back safely in the end. You shouldn’t blame yourself for that.” Really, his C and B with Marianne is an exercise in hypocrisy. The standards Dimitri has for himself are incredibly, unattainably high. He’s setting himself up for failure in that way and, to an extent, knows what he’s doing because he knows that those same standards are too much for his friends and allies to meet. He wishes to take on everything himself. But, what I find so beautiful about this, is that Dimitri eventually realizes that he can’t do that. He is not strong enough to take on the weight of the world on himself, he comes to understand that it’s something he must allow himself to share with the people who care about him. He comes to realize that, as difficult as it is to accept, he is a weak person. Despite all of his introversion and inability to emotionally open up, he figures out that having a support system and allowing yourself to rely on people who love you is a necessity. Personally, I think this message is incredibly important in real life. Watching Dimitri come to that conclusion and argue it’s importance really rounded out his arc and journey as a person. Now, the relatability of this conclusion will differ, but I don’t think it has to do with his mental illness as much as it is a fundamental aspect of growth.

The selfishness is basically outlined above. Dimitri is selfish about his pain and secrets, purposefully and selfishly driving people away because he wants to keep the burden to himself. His vice is guilt and he indulges in the pain of it like an addiction. Hatred, too, is a drug. He thinks he needs it to keep going, even though all it does is bring agony to himself and others around him. Learning to accept and let go of these feelings is, again, something I think is important and a character arc that I really love, especially when you see him suffer as much as he does. Now, the execution of this is lacking, I admit. But that’s an issue for another time I think.

I am not quite sure if I did much to change your opinion, but this is all I can think of for now. There is probably a lot more than I’ve left out because I think about Dimitri far too much to be healthy. So, I’ll leave you off with some honorable mention aspects of his character that I think are super fun:

Pre-timeskip Dimitri has his hair tucked behind his ear. He can lift a wagon by himself. In the DLC, when faced with an impossible-to-open gate, it was not muscle man Balthus who said he couldn’t open it, but twinkish teen Dimitri. He’s not really smooth with one-liners. Like, at all. Notably, when attacking Manuela post-timeskip, he says, “Perhaps I should have appeared before you holding a bouquet of flowers, rather than the weapon that will end your life.” Adding to this, at one point, Dimitri fucked up a pick-up line so badly the girl came after him. Areadbhar has a mitten on it in the Azure Moon final picture. He breaks everything. His Crest activation ability even supports this, using twice the durability of any given Combat Art. One of his post-timeskip counselor messages is, “I lived in the slums for a long time, and I saw how the people there suffered from poverty and the ravages of war. There must be something I can do to save them." His room in the academy is right next to Sylvain’s, meaning that for almost an entire year Dimitri was a single wall away from hearing whatever nonsense Sylvain was getting up to. Dimitri is the only Lord that takes the throne and doesn’t abandon his people in some form or another.

And, finally, he is pretty sexy. And that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 18: Devil’s Advocate

“You’re not listening to the point I’m trying to make,” Esredes said, running a hand down his face. “I’m not Nidhogg’s servant, and I am not saying what he is doing is right. I’m merely saying there is a reason behind it.” These conversations were always delicate, like walking on a tightrope of glass, and Esredes did not have the proper balance for it. It was never that easy with the wanderers in the snow- that is, the general category of people who lived their lives out in the Coerthan or Dravanian wilderness like himself and his people, but were indifferent to everything. They held no love for Ishgard, but weren’t exactly interested in hearing out all about the heretic’s side either, though they generally remained friendly on the surface.

Like it often did, it had started with a hunting trip, during which a midlander woman had appeared and slain a beast with just her hunting spear. She had such a serene and gentle, friendly face, on the background of her bloody spear, that it almost caught him off guard.

Still, she was amicable, asking Esredes all about what he was doing while offering him part of the kill and telling him of how she was from a nearby village. Everything had been just fine until one too many questions from her had lead to this point, and now he was stuck in that usual dilemma of trying to explain to the unaffiliated observers what his purpose truly meant. “What reason could he have that justifies what his horde has done?” The woman asked, still keeping that calm tone as if it was a casual debate. “And if you’re not serving him, then who are you serving, exactly?” “His reasoning doesn’t justify anything,” Esredes said. “Ishgard attacked him and took his eye and started the war. He was in his right to kill the founders for it- but all the rest? No, not at all. So I don’t serve him. I am merely saying that if you were as inherently angry of a being as he is and someone violated your good will and took your eye out, you would risk losing your mind too.” “So who do you serve, then?” She repeated. “Know you the name of Lady Iceheart?” “Ahhh.” She said, as if it had just clicked together. “Heard a lot of things about her, yes. You’ve all been giving Ishgard’s caravans a lot of trouble lately, right? For what sort of purpose?” “To kill the Archbishop.” “Oh, really?” This seemed to intrigue her. She leaned forward on the large piece of rock jutting out from the ground she was sitting on. “So the Archbishop doesn’t get a sympathetic motivation for you?” “No,” he said. “He has to die if Ishgard is to hear the truth.” “What about Nidhogg, then?” “I’m not confident he’ll listen to reason either.” Esredes said. “That’s another problem entirely.” “Does Nidhogg deserve to die, too?” “There’s nothing else to be done if he is lost to reason.” “You’re not listening,” she said with a cheeky little smile, leaning forward even a bit more. “Do you believe he deserves to die?” “Yes,” Esredes said with a blank expression and tone. “I don’t think what he’s done can be forgiven. Much as I don’t wish to cause the dragons any more grief… A monster is a monster.” “What if he listened? Would you spare him then?” He shrugged. “What else is there to be done? If someone stands down in a war, you don’t kill them for it. If it means the war ends, then yes, it’s a price worth paying not to punish him.” “And if the Archbishop surrendered?” “Ishgardians have a justice system, dragons do not.” Esredes said. “If he surrendered his own people would tear him apart for what he does. That’s out of my control completely.” “And what if the decision was on you alone?” “He can rot in gaol for the rest of his life.” Esredes said plain and simply. The woman was silent a long moment, running a hand down her spear as Esredes’ words stirred in her head. Then she finally looked up to him, and nodded with a faint smile. “I see,” she said. “Thank you for being willing to elaborate. I always like to hear what is behind a person’s thought process, and I’ve never spoken to one of hers about it.”

In the end, the conversation ended amicably, and that was that. She was soon on her way, and he was on his. There was more business to attend to at camp, and he was needed. A fact made immediately clear by the second he got back, an enforcer coming right up to him. “Esredes, we need you at the dungeon.” She began in a low and quiet voice. “There was a group captured earlier, and…” “I’m on it, thank you,” he said, walking at a fast pace towards the interior of the mountain their camp was on. Several cavern tunnels ran through they inhabited, but this one was closed off and off limits except to those who had the knowledge of its existence and a key- and so Esredes pushed past multiple wooden doors until he was in that little wooden room above stone, where multiple people were already inside. “What happened.” Esredes said as he came in. “Esredes,” said a man in the center of the room that the couple other people in the room were standing by. “I thought you were out today.” Esredes knew immediately why he was called here when he saw who it was there waiting for him. This one was not exactly his favorite member of all time of his camp or the movement- he meant well, ultimately, but one of Esredes’ tasks in the movement always ended up being keeping his own from getting carried away and becoming the monsters Ishgard wanted of them, and this one most definitely made him work that task. “I just got back, and I heard the news.” Esredes said as he clasped his hands behind his back and walked up to plant himself a couple feet away from the man. “Please, tell me what happened.” “Well, commander,” the man began. “We were out at the village trading supplies with the locals when a faction of knights came into town like they were tyrants taking the place over. They planted themselves in the middle of the town square and announced that there was a demon child in the village that violated their agreement with Ishgard unless she was handed over. The locals were uncomfortable, they were intimidating them- so we did what was appropriate to do in front of so many seeing eyes.” His own eyes darkened as he spoke. “It was more than they deserved.” “So have you any idea why they believed there to be a demon child?” “That’s what has to be gotten out of them,” he said. “They didn’t find the girl, but the bastards were fully prepared to execute a child. I trust with that information, you’ll deal with them properly, commander.” “Very well.” Esredes said. “Then I hope you will not be protesting if I talk to them alone.” He turned and walked towards the staircase down into the stone room. “What are you going to do?” The man asked, and Esredes stopped there by the first step. “I’ll find out just how far Ishgard’s thorns are stuck in them, of course. Standard procedure.” “Esredes, these aren’t the kind of men you can just talk to and pull the thorns out, trust me. They were bloodthirsty, for a goddamn child’s blood! They’d slaughter all of us without a single thought and never regret it.” ”That may be the case,” Esredes simply said. “And it may not. That remains to be seen.” “Are you seriously going to try and convert child killers to our side?” “The damage has not been done yet,” Esredes said. “They were following orders, and if this girl had the blood in her or some voidsent attached to her- then you can’t expect men of Ishgard to think better of it, can you? All I’m saying is that I will assess the depth of the thorns, nothing more. You know our creed, sir.” He turned his head back and stared right at the other man. “The worthy find salvation. The wicked scatter to the icy winds. And we must be fair judges. You would do your best to remember that.” There were no more words out of the man. He merely crossed his arms and stared at Esredes.

And with that, Esredes descended the steps and pushed the iron door open.

The fairest judge, he would always be.

[doorsclosingslowly]

Your death is a number but I cannot count that high (11/16)

In which Death Watch enter the enemy ship, and Asajj gets her shot at freedom.

Zombie Savage AU | 2.5k | warning for body horror

For the first time in weeks, Asajj feels light. It’s almost offensive, how quickly she slipped from world-devouring grief and heartburn and eternal nightmares into mission planning and execution mode, but then again: she enjoys bounty hunting. Pursuit and infiltration are basically her comfort zone, and even the present company cannot spoil her thrill.

She finally has solid ground under her feet again. The swamp that broils and laps at her with every dream and with every wriggling fleshworm that fucking Savage Opress sends her way is receding, and soon enough, when she gets her chance, she’ll kill it off—kill him—for good.

Asajj’s sisters and Mother Talzin may have accidentally landed her in a malignant trap when they tried to help her fight Dooku, but Asajj will chew her way free.

That’s why she volunteered to be ground troop today. She needs to rescue herself. She needs to cut off this bond, cut off the mate, cut off the drowning boulder. She’d been prepared to argue and fight for the opportunity, since it’s not like anybody trusts her here, but it was surprisingly easy. Not even a doubtful look—no, the only response she’d received was appreciation for her fearlessness in the face of certain death. Well, maybe it is. Maul keeps insisting that Savage’s torture is a trap laid by Sidious, his past shadowy Sith Master, and that setting a foot on Entralla means getting fried and disappeared and tortured. He himself is going down still, obviously—by now it doesn’t even appear to be bravado or tending to his image before his following but genuine mushy affection for that dumb creature, and if Asajj wasn’t busy she might almost be curious—Maul is coming down with her, as are Kast and Saxon and three dozen other supercommandos. That’s what they’d settled on, once their advance droid surveillance footage yesterday had revealed their target to be a small spaceship surrounded by a hundred medium-sized tents.

Maul, Kast and Saxon at once, who as far as she’s observed are the three highest-ranking members of Death Watch, and on what all of them believe is a suicide mission—Asajj would call them brain-dead, but actually, she doesn’t care. Either Maul is every inch the scared wretch of a cast-off Sith plaything he appears and is making mountains out of skrant-hills, or she’ll, most likely, be dead too. Looks like that gamorrean sow Kast likes to suck face with will soon inherit the whole sorry rest of their terrorist crew.

Most of Death Watch, though, is inside three hundred small Kom’rk-class fighters or the two stolen Separatist dreadnaughts, standing by to intercept any fleeing ship with gravity wells or sheer violence. Well. That’s one of the reasons. Every ground Mando is in periodic radio contact with one of their motherships, and should they go silent when Sidious gets them… if the mission goes sour, dead man’s switch. Asajj doesn’t know about the exact logistics of how many have to miss check-in before the omnicidal aerial bombardment begins… but she’s starting to understand Maul’s paranoia regarding this ‘Sidious’ well enough to know they’re going to risk killing their Mand’alor sooner rather than later. It’s reassuring, almost. They’ll kill Sidious no matter what.

Well. And her, too.

But Asajj knew when she allowed that Mando to think she’d captured her that this wasn’t going to be easy. Up until know she’s always found a way to make it out alive. She’ll manage. And Sidious killed her sisters. Killed Talzin. Killed Dathomir.

Sidious will die, and so will Opress. Anything else is secondary.

She’s wearing a set of scavenged armor over her clothes and a jetpack and a gas mask, nothing more. Most of the ground team have massive tanks mounted on their back, too, full of some quick heavyweight airborne soporific Death Watch managed to procure on short notice.

(“If it’s taking this long to cook something up, we could just use poison,” Asajj had suggested, entirely not for selfless reasons. “We’re using the weedkiller tanks you Mandos use for farming, after all. We could just keep the weedkiller.”

“This is still a rescue mission,” Kast had replied severely. Unfortunately, despite being a fanatic terrorist and obeying Maul of all people and a habit of throwing tantrums about the horrible plight of Savage Opress, she wasn’t entirely braindead. “Damage is acceptable, but we won’t kill our brother.”

Maul had looked on, silent.)

Maul and Asajj are going to enter the ship first. That makes sense—both of them are assassins more than soldiers, they’re better than the Mandos at keeping quiet—and even if Maul will be a hindrance when they find Savage, she can use him as a distraction before that.

It feels weird, somehow, touching ground in front of the enemy’s ship. The unconscious guards on the ground are wearing clone trooper armor, which means that—yes, it means Death Watch got the drop on them and it means the soporific gas is effective, which is great, but Asajj didn’t expect this mission against Sidious to include a Grand Army of the Republic protection detail, and neither did Maul, though he appears far less perturbed by this information than Asajj is. Nothing before has linked Sidious to the Republic. She trusts the magicks she used to find this location, though. This is where the bondmate is being held.

Maul opens a control panel next to the ship’s door and plays around with a couple of screwdrivers, while Mando supercommandos direct their sedative gas into the ship’s pried-open air vents.

And… they’re in.

Too easy.

This was far too easy for a secret prison of the illusive Sith Lord, and Maul, apparently, thinks so too. He keeps glancing sideways at her while the supercommandos tie up the sedated soldiers outside and while they enter the ship’s galley, and he insists they shouldn’t split up.

“This location does not appear my Master’s—my former Master’s style,” he whispers in his clipped accent. “It’s neither desolate, nor are there plush red carpets. It’s not a torture dungeon.” Maul looks at Asajj, and his eyes gleam with suspicion. “If you have lied to me, you are dead. If this hurts my brother, you’ll wish you were.”

“This is the place. My sisters’ magicks are never wrong,” Asajj replies haughtily. It won’t do any good if both of them admit to their unease.

(Maul’s been vibrating faintly ever since Asajj broke into his brain to find Opress. It’s probably fear and anticipation, and most of all the superfluous awareness of him that she’s gained ever since exploiting both their bonds. Maybe he was always this high-strung.

“Someone’s attacking him,” he’d whispered to her just minutes before they reached Entralla, as if by joining their minds she had proven she cared. His eyes had been dark, agonized. In a movement that appeared entirely involuntary, he’d gripped at his neck as if looking for a pendant, and then he’d hugged himself, holding onto his torso and stomach as if his slippery entrails were ready to leak out.

Asajj had looked down and realized she was mirroring him.

When she slid her eyes half-shut, she could see the shadows of undulating metal cables.)

The ship, on the inside, just appears a standard Republic cruiser. It has a single long hallway that Asajj is pulled down by the worms in her gut, and Maul, frowning and broadcasting dread, follows.

They pass unconscious Republic clones at uneven intervals.

It’s so—ordinary. Asajj knows these ships. And there are no traps at all, just that pulsing connection drawing her forwards, shading and twisting, the memory of desolation and grief and that orange boy getting chocked (Kast’s eyes were so hard when she said, “He tried to give me his lightsaber, too, so I would have an easy time of killing him, if—when, he said, when he was used again to hurt his little brother,” that Asajj almost felt guilty) and everyone on Dathomir is dead and—

There.

She stops, and Maul comes to a halt behind her, ‘saber raised.

An open doorway, half-blocked by an armored redhead that seems vaguely familiar, and the beckoning hand of her sisters, and if Sidious doesn’t have the heart to provide a distraction for Maul then Asajj will just improvise.

“Back there, I think,” Asajj whispers, pointing at a random closed door to her left. “I can feel your brother in there.”

Maul’s eyes are wide. “I do not feel—are you sure?” he whispers, and he looks so young and hopeful bathed in the green glow he doesn’t understand and never had a right to wear that Asajj almost dares to believe her plan will work.

“I know these magicks,” Asajj drawls. “I don’t mind double-checking, but I thought you wanted him as alive as possible. He’s not doing well. Might get deep-fried at any moment, that’s not healthy for such a weak brain.”

It works. Maul bites back whatever kind of response he might have had, and he starts frantically working on slicing the door that was—her sisters are smiling upon Asajj—thankfully locked.

Asajj, meanwhile, tiptoes hurriedly forward and past the redhead—almost a decent glimpse of his head, why does she feel she knows him and—and inside the room she looks at a monster. The scene is arranged as if to mock her, a single bare cot in the middle of the room approximating a stone slab and the dimmed red electric lights a stand-in for the fire on the day she was tied to the boulder that tries to drown her. On the cot, as he was supine on the slab back then, lies unconscious Savage Opress.

Well. The used dog toy formerly known as Opress.

He’s always made her uncomfortable, even when they met. First, it was his silent bruised obsequiousness and the glances he’d shoot her after that arena fight, like he expected her to ravish him then and there just because she’d beaten him up. The sense that she’d stumbled into a world she didn’t understand drawn in silent rules and violence and sex—and Asajj has never liked that anxiety born of ignorance though she can and will tough it out and persevere, and only with the bond strangling her did she realize her stupid mistake—the sense that there was something hiding below her feet ready to devour her. He only got more obsequious and annoying after the ritual that tied Asajj to him, with his empty brainless eyes that somehow simultaneously said do whatever you want with me and I’ll kill you. She was happy to use him, if it got her traitorous ex-Master Dooku off her back, but she was at least as happy that the plan included Opress staying at Dooku’s side, not hers. Well, in the end, he was as useless as he was stupid and creepy, and Asajj had to fight Dooku on her own while Opress escaped his leash and used the power gifted to him by Talzin to harass innocent villagers and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He doesn’t have the body that Mother Talzin gave him anymore. Not that he ever deserved it.

Savage Opress, who is bound by ancient magicks to Asajj, looks like someone took his corpse and stuffed it full of a crashed spaceship debris in a desperately poor attempt at covering up an accident. The body Mother Talzin’s Dathomiri magicks gave him was stout, forceful, architected and executed with a keen eye and deep control, while whoever did this was a careless butcher. Asajj has seen carnage and pain, she’s fought and killed and maimed, and yet she has never seen anything as bestial as the body before her.

Savage Opress, who is making her share his torture through a telepathic bond, looks like a gutted carcass. This is what became of one of the three last survivors of Dathomir: worms writhe in and out of him, the things she’s been feeling like phantom maggots burrowing into her heart made real and she can see them feasting and seaming up his raw mottled shoulders and lap at the empty spots where someone tore out his hearts. He’s still conscious, though, just asleep. She can feel him feeling the worms. She can see him breathing, though he doesn’t need to, not without an intact torso. Not without hearts. She feels sick. So this is what has been calling out to her. What has been sliding into her mind, unstoppable and unwanted. This has violated her dreams.

Savage Opress, the bondmate Asajj came here to covertly murder, looks like death would be a mercy.

“Ventress, what are you playing at? The room was empty and Kenobi is here,” Maul hisses from somewhere behind her. “I told you. You’ll die for your betrayal—Savage…”

Asajj turns, expecting a fight, but Maul looks like the air was punched out of him, and he’s rooted to the doorway. The air around him tastes of abhorrence and dawning dread. He could have reached Savage before her, in her stupor—he could have jammed his ‘saber into her back—but now she’s jolted loose and ready to take her one chance at freedom.

To take mercy on Savage, for once in her life.

She drives her lightsaber into his right eye socket.

Maul’s scream behind her is vile, deeply inhuman and guttural and echoing over and over and over in the small room. It’s so loud her eye starts to hurt. His howl is the storm and the cave and the first drink in a lifetime. It’s green. It’s gentleness and sympathy he thought his Master had long driven out of the apprentice, but in teaching Savage he can’t help but refrain from using the techniques he once had endured himself. He doesn’t understand the reason—he is Sith and if he does not teach his apprentice to draw power from pain, he will have failed him. He doesn’t understand, but he feels something quake when he is called brother and when he notices he turned his back to Savage and never even expected to get hurt—he doesn’t understand, but somehow, he does. He loves Savage. Savage loves him. Maul was never meant for love, was made a weapon to be used and abused and discarded by a Master wielding power he’ll never attain, but somehow, Maul found this one person who loves him. Maul lost the person who loves him. Maul just lost him again. Maul won’t lose the person who loves him. He won’t. He can’t. He refuses. He loves—

And desperate love paints the room acid green. Greedy love tears the cot to tiny metal shreds. Unconditional love presses hot and painful into Asajj’s right eye, and she’s taking tiny measured steps toward Savage, in rhythmic unison with Maul and unstoppable no matter how hard she tries to take back her body.

Love, no matter what it takes, and both their green-bathed hands touch Savage.

All goes black.

[funkymbtifiction]

As a writer, how do/did you learn to deal with questions, criticism or rejection? I’m going to do scientific writing (I’m new in my field), and I’m terrified of facing rejection, ridicule or criticism. It might cause me to take it personally, and then procrastinate due to stress, or stop writing forever. 

How can I tell the difference between useful criticism and someone’s personal opinion/taste?

How can I learn to not take things personally and not lose my self worth or confidence?

In general, and based on your experience, is it better to start multiple writing projects together, or just one at a time?

Thanks.

For the most part, thinker types are more impersonal in receiving criticism than feeler types, since they really just want to do the best ‘product’ they can (or don’t care what others think), whereas feelers can feel insulted by this rejection of ‘self’ -- a lot of them see their writing as an extension of who they are or their feelings. So knowing your type will help you anticipate how you handle criticism -- and knowing other people’s types will help you know the criticism in advance that they are likely to give you. For example, an ESTP who doesn’t take criticism personally might be more blunt with you than an INFP who does.

Something to remember in general is you cannot please everyone all the time, so don’t bother trying. Decide what pleases YOU and achieves what you want to achieve with what you write, and let that be your standard. Otherwise you start thinking too much about how something will be ‘received’ and that can cripple you as a creative person or as a writer, since fear of premature rejection will change your voice. Did you know that F. Scott Fitzgerald, who wrote The Great Gatsby, struggled to ever write another book? His first novella was so widely praised at the time in which he published it, he developed a terrible fear of having later books compared to it negatively, which effectively stifled his creativity. He spent YEARS grinding out one page at a time, he was so over-focused on making it “good.” So thrive or fail, don’t let that happen to you.

With scientific writing, learn to cite your sources, explain your theories and/or the information in a manner that goes with whomever you are writing for (laymen need simple explanations in a form they can understand; academics do not mind wading through more abstract theorizing) and take a basic course in grammar. Paying for a brief subscription to ProWriter’s Aid or Grammerly can be useful, as is using the free Grammar option in Word. You want your writing to be clear, consist, and ‘right’ enough on a grammatical level not to draw any unnecessary criticism. And again, the standards change depending on your field. A critic is going to judge more harshly past-tense in a fiction story than in an academic style article.

You also need beta readers, people you trust to give you a true opinion. I cannot stress enough that these must be a) people who know something (which means not your mother, she has a bias) and b) people who will be honest with you about where your writing / ideas / approach is ‘weak.’ They also need to, as you point out, learn to give constructive criticism.

Which takes us to what is constructive criticism and what is not? Remember, you are free to probe people and ask questions to determine the difference. Non-constructive criticism basically amounts to “I don’t like it.” When you push them, there’s no real thing they can point to that is impartial and that can be proven with external evidence as to why it’s wrong / bad / needs criticized. It’s almost always non-specific, because the underlining factor is “I hate it.” Or “I don’t like what it said / inferred,” or “It made me uncomfortable.”

Constructive criticism has logical reasoning behind it, it is clear and able to show you what it means when you ask (or they highlight it on the manuscript), and they can either suggest a fix for it or where you can find one.

Constructive criticism is: “you use too much past tense, it slows down your sentences.” It is, “you cannot use this word to connect two sentences.” “You need more paragraph breaks, so your reader’s mind can slow down.” “You should use itallics in this section to emphasize your point.” “You use too many adverbs, when a stronger verb would punch at your audience more.” “I did not know what you meant by this paragraph; did you mean to say this?”

Non-constructive criticism was a friend telling me they didn’t like one of my characters; constructive criticism was another friend telling me my book had too many conjoined sentences in it, which made reading it tedious. The former, I can do nothing about (and shouldn’t, since *I* like the character), the latter took lots of work to train my brain not to do that, but it has improved my writing.

In a nutshell, when people criticize your work, allow it to hurt for awhile. Then step back and ask if they are right -- if you took their suggestion or you fixed or changed that thing, WOULD YOU BE A BETTER WRITER? That is the bottom line. Would doing that hurt or improve your project? One of the days I got the most angry was when a friend told me I didn’t need to include a particular character in my book. She said he no role to play and was just there because I liked him. I was pissed. But after a couple of days, I realized she was right. I just wanted him there because I liked him, but I removed him from the book and almost nothing changed. I hadn’t woven him into the narrative, so he really did not belong there. She was right. That was constructive criticism.

The difference between a fair writer and a good one is being able to take criticism, decide if it objectively improves the product, and then implementing it. As an editor, I see both kinds of people a lot. The writer who e-mails me after their story comes out to thank me for the edits and how they “noticed that it made it read much smoother,” and the writer who gets offended by proposed edits that would strengthen their work. I once dealt with an ultra-sensitive writer who was quite full of himself. Too full of himself, considering his grammar was awful, he didn’t know where to put punctuation marks, and he had, at times, 76 word sentences. When I finally said I would not pay for his stories anymore unless he fixed these issues, he informed me I was no longer allowed to print his stories. My criticism was constructive, because I pointed out what he was doing wrong and showed him what I meant. That’s what you look for -- if the criticism is clear, objective, and fixable, rather than vague and abstract.

Whether you want to work on multiple things at once or just one is up to you and your previous history as an individual. In the past, when you have worked on multiple things at once, have you succeed in finishing them all? Usually, because your brain finds it easier to focus on one thing at a time, working on one thing at a time is preferred, because switching back and forth is tiring for your mental focus. I know writers who spend years doing a little bit on a bunch of different things; I prefer to spend four to six months doing nothing but writing a novel, revising it, editing it, polishing it, and publishing it. I never work on multiple ‘serious’ projects at once, because it scatters my focus. But you should try out both methods and see which works best for you.

[lycianthes-art]

Echinacea Chapter 2

Now, as for the princess she had taken Wynn, a unicorn, from the stables, and was now outside Kratom, the kingdom of the Serpentes… Though, even for its title, strangely Kratom housed not only Serpentes but any kind if reptilian.

(Hm? Why did she take a unicorn? Well they’re simply the fastest horses, even faster than a Pegasus.)

In trying to remain inconspicuous she, perhaps, made herself more conspicuous. She donned standard riding boots, though perhaps a little too clean for the average person. A sash of deep green fabric tied around her waist and draped over one leg, making it glaringly obvious that she belonged to the human nobility. A white ruffled blouse, once again too clean for the average person and too ostentatious to be owned by a commoner. Not to mention her dark green cloak, embroidered with golden thread and fastened with a sparkling deep green emerald brooch. Like her mother, she was pale and had green eyes. The main point of distinction was her blonde hair. Now blonde hair was relatively rare among humans—at least rare enough to cause a scandal within the human royal family. Let us save such gossip for another time.

In fact, the only population with a significant blonde demographic were the Dwarves, and perhaps some avian races. Although avian hair color presents more sunshine-yellow than blonde, since it’s genetically tied to the color of their plumage.

Ah, but it seems I’m losing myself again—I have yet to even describe Kratom. Kratom is a large, walled city surrounded by forest. Its influence does not extend beyond this local; thus, the nation and municipality called Kratom are one and the same. Each wall encases a particular social class: The royal palace the center, then the upper class in the adjacent ring, and so on. The lowest class however, lives outside the walls, shunned by society. The citizens of Kratom pride themselves on their ability to blend in—rather, to camouflage themselves within any culture. Their city and architecture showing this well, from the stone, fortressed walls of Echinacea, to the ionic pillars of Verbena. The style mimicking is even shown in housing with the symmetry of the elven citadel Ginko and the Wooden siding of Velvet Leaf—the home of the forest elves. In short Kratoman architecture has elements of every culture in the continent of Evel. Though one thing relatively unique to the residents of Kratom is their love of gold—not just the coins, but jewelry and all manner of finery.

Jewelry tends to only be enjoyed by the elite, which brings us to Kratom social hierarchies. It’s rather… discriminatory by human standards—or any other culture’s, for that matter. For Serpentes and Reptilians, it’s a matter of their physical appearance, which manifests immediately when they hatch. The more animalistic their features, the higher their rank. As such, the queen nearly always resembles a giant snake with arms. Reptilians are limited to lower castes; a form that would merit queen-hood in a Serpentes would only allow a Reptilian to rise to knighthood, or maybe baronet, if they’re lucky perhaps even baron. The lowest class is the most human-looking: a face, arms, legs, torso… one could barely tell the difference, if not for the scales. As for clothing, Kratomans wear none, as they don’t have much need for it thanks to their anatomy.

Now that the sociology lesson is over, perhaps we can continue with the story.

“Wynn, wait here. I’ll be fine without you, this city’s not as dangerous as they say.” Noreen spoke more to herself than her companion

She patted the unicorn on the shoulder, pulled up the hood of her cloak and walked from the safe covering of the forest towards the large, foreboding walls of Kratom.

As she approached the city, the anxiety in her stomach grew. The looming walls did nothing to assuage her fears. A human in Kratom is surely to gain attention, something she did well. And yet she noticed none of it, too wrapped in her own mind and thoughts.

She was oblivious to her surroundings until she reached the middle ring. Kratom is traversed rather quickly, considering the entrance gates to each ring are lined up with the last. When the gates to the middle rig swung open, Noreen was blinded by the streets and ornaments of gold. The stone buildings were a tired, dull beige, easily ignored for the streets lined by day stars and paths of sunlight. She found herself distracted by the glitzy surroundings, her anxiety forgotten. She remained oblivious to the stares of the citizens. She paused by the fountain in the center of the circle. Like the walls and buildings, it too was made of stone, with flecks of gold spread throughout it and its water almost artificially blue. She stood there in awe until the unusual silence of the busy street was broken by the sound of falling coins. This was enough to break her out of her trance and refocus her on her mission… at least for now.

However, upon entering the upper ring her attention was once again stolen by her surroundings. Here, even the buildings were made of gold… or perhaps they were merely covered by gold plating. Even the people were covered in gold. The inhabitants of this ring looked quite different than the bipedal creatures Noreen had passed earlier: they had the lower bodies of their respective species, but with a human-esque torso and face (with the exception of the reptilians, who visibly earn their name). An obvious show to the racial inequality of Kratom. The thought of someone being lesser for their appearance was something foreign to most of Evel. With this thought in mind, Noreen made her way to the palace.

The palace of Kratom was the most beautiful part of the city and as such was always open to foreigners. The palace, instead of beige, was a cool grey to more bring out the warm gold that covered most of it. After entering the large gates of the palace instead of being captivated by the large ceilings painted blue, white, and gold, or perhaps the statues carved in marble of previous rulers. Noreen’s attention was instead captured by her target: Sistrine, the ruler of Kratom. She increased her pace. The guards, now on high alert, reached for their weapons. Before they could do anything, she closed the distance to her target and held a knife to the brown snake’s throat, pinning them in place. Her hood fell off and the snake’s hood flared out. The guards made to attack, but Sistrine stopped them by calmly lifting a hand.

“Child princess, you would not hurt your dear sweet mother, would you?”

However, Noreen simply gritted her teeth in rage and pushed the dagger further into their throat.

“Try me”

The snake’s glamour disappeared. “What stops me from alerting the guards or simply crushing you myself?”

“You’ll be dead before you can try. Besides, cobras don’t constrict.”

“All snakes can, my dear. But so be it. Why do you intrude? What do you wish of me?”

“Information. There’s something I desperately need to know.”

“I’m not a mind reader, darling”

Noreen tensed at the pet name.

“What was the role of demons in The Great War?”

Sistrine looked amused. “You of all people should know that… Considering who your mother is.”

Noreen growled and pushed her dagger ever further into the throat of the snake, tears coming to her eyes, before she came to her senses and bolted.

  Upon leaving Kratom, Noreen had an eerie feeling she was being watched. It wasn’t until she reached Wynn that the culprit revealed themselves. They were a lower-class Kratoman—Serpentes? Reptilian? It is rather hard to tell with the lower classes. Either way, they were tall, with human-like facial features and green scales. Their manner in approaching Noreen was rather happy, maybe even excited.

“Human!”

Noreen audibly groaned at the delay.

“Yes? I’m rather busy”

“Oh, no worries. This will only take all of your time! Um… That was not a threat—“The reassurance did not do much to placate the princess’s unease as the stranger snatched at Wynn’s reins.

Noreen reached into her cloak to retrieve her dagger. “Speak fast”

“Right! Right! See, I overheard your conversation with the queen, and—“

“I thought your class wasn’t allowed to be in the throne room?”

“Oh, we aren’t. Anyway, it sound like you’re going to be doing a lot of traveling, and I want in.”

“It’s going to be dangerous, can you even protect yourself? Other than that how should I trust a stranger at my back? Let alone a Reptilian?”

“No. You’re going to have a lot of strangers. Also I’m a Serpentes, not a Reptilian. Which probably isn’t any better in your eyes, but I’m harmless, not a venomous species.”

“Right… Since I’m in a hurry and you have my unicorn’s reins, I’m assuming it’s easier to just let you come along, as long as you wear this.”

She handed over her cloak, then mounted the unicorn and slid back a little in an attempt to make room for the stranger.

“Of course! Thank you! But first, human, do you have a name?” The stranger did not move nor let go of the reins.

“Noreen”

“Okay, Nora! Well, I’m Sapa!” Sapa made a move to get on the unicorn.

“It’s Noreen, actually.”

“Nora?”

“Noreen.”

“Nora?”

“You know what? Fine.”

After this brief name exchange, Sapa was on the unicorn and Nora was adjusting them to sit side-saddle, with both of their legs over one side. The seating arrangement was rather uncomfortable, but with a unicorn it would be a rather short ride. Though a stray thought did make its way to Nora’s mind, that Sapa’s scales were surprisingly soft.

A few minutes into the ride, Sapa spoke up.

“So… Where are we going?”

“I’m taking Wynn back to the stables.”

“Then we can just finish your mission right then?”

“No, there’s still a lot of things I still don’t know and it would be a rather large risk I’m not willing to take. If I’m wrong I could end Echinacea.”

“But it takes weeks to get to Echinacea from here, on top of that you’re planning on traveling more?”

Nora leaned forward and grabbed onto Sapa as Wynn jumped a fallen tree, causing Sapa to let out a delighted giggle.

“On a unicorn it should only take a few hours.”

“A few hour!?” Sapa yelled in surprise

Nora gritted her teeth. “Yes, when we get there I want you to keep the cloak wrapped tight.”

“Hate to tell you, but I’m quite taller than you, and my feet look incredibly different. I am assuming, at least—I have not seen your feet, nor do I wish too”

“We’re not getting close to the castle, so it’s only if people see you from afar.”

“Even so, from a distance I’d be able to tell a human from a serpentes. After all, I noticed you among the townspeople earlier… Granted if you were Serpentes, you definitely were not supposed to be where you were.”

“Humor me,” Nora huffed

As stated, a few hours into the ride they saw the corral. Nora once more leaned forward and grabbed Sapa while Wynn jumped the fence and came to an abrupt stop. Nora gently nudged Sapa to dismount, then followed suit.

“What now?” Sapa inquired

“Since I had us Jump near the obstacle corral, first thing we do is move the tack there.” Nora started undoing the saddle buckles. “Preferably, you would take the saddle and I would take the blanket and bridle.”

“Why”

Nora stopped on the question for a while, trying to decipher what it meant. In the end she decided to answer both question she thought could be asked, and handed the saddle to Sapa, who took it.

“So they don’t notice I took Wynn, if they haven’t already. And because the saddle is heavy, and you’re likely stronger than me.”

Having finished taking off the tack, Nora started to walk towards the tack rack, motioning for Sapa to follow. Then Sapa turned to Nora.

“Now what?”

Nora sighed. “Now we jump the fence back into the woods and, since the corral is large, hope no one saw us.”

They started walking towards the outer fence.

“That’s it? No provisions? No nothing?”

“I have survival skills.”

“Have you ever had to use them?”

Nora ignored the question and pulled herself up and over the fence.

“I can tell you right now princess, survival isn’t fun.” Sapa scrambled over the fence to catch up.

“I’m not looking for fun.”

“Okay… Do you at least have an idea on where to go?”

“Ginko, Velvet Leaf, Hyssop, Tulsi, Burdock, and then Mallow.”

“Huh? Mallow’s the closest. Why aren’t we going there first?”

“It would be easier to go back to the other side of Evel and then come back, rather than starting closest, going furthest, and then returning.”

“I see… Next question: You’re human, but none of those are alliance countries. Why not? Would a human not seek aid from them first?”

“The problems I seek pertain to my mother. Should we go to alliance country, they would no doubt tell, which would put my life in danger.”

“Why would your life be in danger?”

“That’s a rather personal question, I’d rather not speak on it. Speaking of personal questions though, it’s rather hard to determine your… gender.”

“Ahaha—ah well, that’s incredibly personal, and not something Serpentes share freely… unless you’re trying to bed me?”

Nora cringed and cleared her throat.

“Back to the topic of alliance countries… They’re not really a country, but we might have luck with the elementals.”

“The elemental? No one has luck with them. I mean they don’t die and aren’t really involved in the world too much. I think the only reason the joined the alliance was to protect their forest, right? Not even for themselves, but for the animals they live beside.”

“Normally, you’d be correct. However, one of my dear friends is an elemental.”

“You’re friends with an elemental?!”

“Yes…” Nora said gritting her teeth.

“How does that happen?”

“They basically raised me. I do not know their intentions, though.”

“I’m not one to speak on parents, but that’s unusual for humans, yes? I mean being raised by someone other than a parent, much less an elemental.”

‘No, plenty of people have nannies or wet nurses.”

“What of the common people?”

“I do not know, they tend to have large families. I can’t imagine only two are parents. Could we perhaps travel in silence? At least until we get to the tavern?”

“Sure, after one more thing. Tavern?”

“There’s a tavern rather close to Echinacea run by ogres and wood sprites.”

“An interesting combination—oh, wait, I promised silence.”

They reached the tavern around sunset. The tavern itself was a basic wooden building, but huge. And as for the trip, it was mostly in the promised silence. Though not being able to expend energy on talking made Sapa restless. As they walked, they made sure Nora remained in sight. But, needing to occupy themself, they walked all over, looking at things, bouncing in place—then doing a little jog to catch up with Nora. That was how most of the trip went. For Nora, it was almost as bad as putting up with talking. For Sapa, it was torture.

When the two companions made it to the door, Nora turned to Sapa. The sound of her voice after so many hours of silence surprised the Serpentes.

“Just a tip—you’ll have better conversations with the ogres than the sprites.” She suggests in warning knowing Sapa’s over eagerness for conversation.

“Aren’t sprites supposed to be nicer than man-eating ogres?”

“Stereotypically, maybe.”

Sapa thought for a moment. “And yet your views on serpentes—“

“I’ve known many ogres and sprites. I’ve never known a good Serpentes.”

“Have you known any?”

She did not answer. Instead she pushed open the heavy door and walked inside. The tavern interior—much like the outside—was large, spacious. For perspective, the bar was so huge an average sized human could barely get their head over it. Luckily, Nora was rather tall, and the counter came up to her collarbones. Sapa, on the other hand, has no issues seeing over the counter as it only came up to their chest. The oversized furniture, however, fit the oversized proprietors of the tavern. The ogres—burly, and about three heads taller than Nora. The willow sprites—thin willowy, and even taller than the ogres.

“Noreen!” An ogre behind the counter yelled in greeting.

“Dimitrios!” Nora yelled back, flinging her arms out for a hug. The ogre jumped the bar, gaining glares from the sprites behind the bar, and lifted her into a cheerful hug.

“Um, Introductions… perhaps?” Sapa asked shifting their weight.

Nora waved her hand toward Dimitrios.

“This, as you’ve likely gathered, is Dimitrios. He introduced me to this place.’

He, in turn, put his hand on his hip and waved heartily, His clothes were a mismatch of leather, and he had a fish tattoo on his left shoulder. His skin was pale and sunburnt, his hair was long, thin, and dark. His eyes brown.

She then gestured to the two sprites behind the bar counter. Sprites are creatures made of wood and the magic of the earth. Their bodies made of vines of, in this case, willow wood. On their head grows leaves, once again in this case, willow leaves. Their eyes are, seemingly, balls of light. However, their eyes don’t glow.

“Beata and Dionysia—they got married last spring.” The willow sprites glanced at each other, then waved. Beata kept her leaves braided, and Dionysia had flowers in hers.

She jutted her thumb at the ogre and sprite in the corner. The ogre was sitting, rather reclining in a chair. The sprite was leaning over him, a knife stabbed into the table, seemingly threating the ogre.

“Sybilla and Yannis. Sybilla is Beata and Dionysia’s child. Yannis is Dimitrios’ life partner.”

Sybilla stood taller and glared, her leaves were a lavender color. Yannis looked over his shoulder and waved. Like Dimitrios, he wore a mismatched leather clothing and had sheaves of wheat tattooed on his right shoulder.

Dimitrios brings attention to himself by clapping.

“So, what brings you here? And with such company?”

“We wish to rent to room. I assume this should cover it.” She turned to Sapa and pried the green gem out of its clasp.

“I assume it shall,” called Beata from across the room.

“All rooms are available, here’s the keys to the closest. Rest up well, you look horrible.” Dionysia was all business, as usual.

“Thanks…” Nora walked up to the counter and grabbed the keys.

“Let’s go,” she said to Sapa.

They both walk up the stairs to a large hallway of doors.

“So, these are your so—called survival skills?” Sapa inquired.

“Not the ones I was referring to, but connections are a good survival skill, I think.”

They part at their separate doors.

“Are you going to be okay?” Sapa asked, genuinely worried for the naive princess.

“I’m fine.” She replies on a bit too heavy a breath, “There’s not much to be worried about, I do have a bit of a plan.”

Without elaborating, she walked into her room and lay on the stiff bed. The strength and complexity of her emotions could do all except bring tears to her eyes. The heart-wrenching sorrow, the searing anger, the confusion, and yet she could not cry… was she broken? Eventually, she drifted off, exhausted from travel and thought.

[eerythingisshaka]

Check Up

[Doctor!Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Reader]

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: A light filth

A/N:  I was in the Vagina Monologues at my college and there’s one skit/story about a vagina workshop that inspired this one.  Enjoy

Your leg bounces up and down anxiously as you sit waiting for your name to be called.  You made sure to arrive extra early to account for a crowd or forms to fill out asking all the standard, invasive questions that any health facility is required to know.  This visit was particularly nerve wrecking considering your friend’s referral to come.  

One night during a girls hangout, wine and tea was spilled while discussing your personal lives.  Your one friend from high school griped about how yet another Tinder date didn’t live up to their profile and couldn’t hold his own in the bedroom later to add insult to injury.  Your other friend from college  was a little more mum about her escapades and turned out it was for a reason you weren’t expecting.

“We decided to open up our marriage.”  She says.  

You both gasp involuntarily before bargaining for more information.

“Are you guys not happy?  Whose idea was it?  It’s only been three years!”  You exclaim.

She sniffs her wine glass while taking a deep breath.  “All valid questions and comments  but it was my idea.  In a small way, I’ve always been polyamorous.”

“I thought you were just a cheater but…”  Your high school friend mutters.

“Get outta here!  Those were misunderstandings of love.  I enjoy the company of every partner I come across but I haven’t found the one that could be my anchor as I continue to love freely.”

“So he is really ok with this?  With other men?”  You ask as slow as possible to get your point across.

“Yup!  Luckily he is not gross to think one sex is ok over another.  It’s all the same whether I liked men or women but my heart is his always.  And honestly, it’s been hot ever since we just talked about it.  Like we just got a jump start!”  

“Hell, I need a jump start.  I wish I could make an appointment to my vagina workshop but I ain’t had the time.”

“The hell is that?”  You whip around to your high school friend intrigued.

“It’s got some official title, but at the clinic on Grand, they have some workshop that teaches you how your vagina works and the BEST thing of all, how to achieve orgasm.  Now when I went there some lady just told me where to find and touch and how to relax but I heard some big fella up there now is helping out and chile, if he was there when I went, my next stop woulda been the OB!”

Your college friend fans herself.  “So wait wait wait.  A fine man doctor teaching me how my pussy works?  Why haven’t you told us before?!”

“I said he wasn’t there when I was!  Plus this was before I was told you married with an asterisk.  Emphasis on the risk.”

“On Grand you say?”  You pull out your phone to Google.

“Mhm, that’s right.  Cuz if anybody needs it, it’s you.  How long has it been since you even went out with somebody?  I have tried to set you up, make a dating profile for you, wingwoman a guy at the bar, with no results!”

You shrug.  “Sounds like your problem.  But ummmm listen.  I do wanna check this out, but no way am I letting a stranger touch me like that.  I just want pointers-”

“And a story to tell us afterwards, ok?!”  College friend cackles along with high school friend.  You roll your eyes looking over the website, praying they take your insurance.  No mention of a fine ass doctor but hopefully fate worked in your favor.

Which brings you to where you are today: in a lobby with about 4-5 women looking at their phones or a magazine preparing for their treatments.  

“Come on back!”  The joyful nurse says, holding the door open for you.  You snap back to reality as the white walls are almost blinding against the lighting as you are led to a room with a 4 above the door.

“You can have a seat while I get you settled.”  

You sit on the examination table as she signs on to her computer and asks you general questions.  What brings you here?  When was your last cycle?  Have you had issues with this?  Pain during that?

“I’m really just here for informational purposes more than anything.  I would like to know more about myself but I haven’t had problems.”

“Ok.  And when was your last sexual experience?”  She asks as she types.

“Including myself or…”  You ask.

“Not including yourself.”  She says with a reassuring smile.  

You think and start to feel hot with embarrassment.  “It’s definitely been over a year…”  Or five more like it.

“Ok, that’s fine.  And have you had issues achieving orgasm with a partner or by yourself?”

You mull it over.  “Not...necessarily.  It has been a while since I could lately, but I have been busy with work too, so…” 

“Ok, that is up to you to bring it up with Doctor Stevens when he sees you.  But that is the end of my questions so at this time we have a gown over there if you would like to disrobe.  We offer an examination or a self examination if you so choose.  Unless you request otherwise, it will be mainly superficial and informational so don’t expect a pelvic exam or anything like that, ok?”

You nod, thanking her as she steps out, closing the door behind her.  The room felt more cold and quiet now that you are alone, but you waste no time in getting undressed.  Your worst nightmare is to take your time and accidentally be walked in on.  

The gown is clean but lacks in softness, plus your ass was hanging out  no matter how tight you tied the strings around you.  The paper separating your skin from the exam seat crinkles loudly as you fidget, looking over the posters of the female reproductive system and molds of various vaginas.

One catches your eye that is see through, showing the depth of the canal.  You can’t help but get your phone out and take a picture.  You text it to the group chat and start to search for a good meme reaction when a rapid knock startles you.

“Good afternoon, Ms.- OH!”  

The deep voice behind you makes you drop your phone and it is not until you bend over to pick it up that you realize your ass is not covered in that gown.  You spin around, backing up to the wall to pick it up.

“Sorry!  I didn’t mean to barge in like that.”  He says, face covered by a clipboard.

You put your phone in your bag and tiptoe back onto the table, cursing yourself out for embarrassing yourself.

“It’s fine, really it was all me.  I shoulda stayed my ass seated.”

He pulls down the clipboard, giving a meek smile.  “Frankly, it’s not the first time it happened.  Shame on me.”  

You feel your breath leave your body a split second when you finally see the man that got your friends so ready to come back.  He did not look like the type to even be interested in medical school, but you thank God prejudices are not facts.  He was the most beautiful doctor you had ever been seen by and so modern looking, with his short locs bound in a mini ponytail to the back of his head, and the sides shaved.  His eyes were so youthful they made you feel silly to stare and despite his small smile, his dimples announced themselves proudly.

“Well, isn’t it, ‘fool me twice, shame on you?’”  You respond, pulling your gown down and sitting up straighter.

This made him smile wider, and you thanked God generously.  “I never blame a patient.  It might be a HIPAA thing, but I might be making that up too.”

He pulls up a stool and sits down, checking over the notes on the clipboard.  “Now, as I started to say...what brings you in?”

Your mouth began to feel dry.  This was easier to discuss before, but you really don’t want to go deep into your personal life with him now.  “I just...uh, wanted information on the body.  You know, the female parts and what I may not know.”

He nods, looking back to you.  “It says you have had trouble achieving orgasm lately?”

“WOW!  I did not-”

“It’s ok!”  he says, graciously interrupting.  “That’s what a lot of people are here for.  You aren’t alone.”

You cover your face.  “This is embarrassing, why did I even come here.”

“Look, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.  I won’t ask you or bring up anything you don’t want to discuss.  But I am here to help, so let’s make the most of our time here.”

You look at him again, seeing the sincerity on his face.  A face like his can’t be completely trusted around any hot blooded woman but he is a doctor.

“Let’s start from the basics.”  Dr. Stevens pulls one of the example molds from the counter and places it in front of him, facing you.  

“Now a lot of people call all of this the vagina, but in actuality it is called the vulva.  That includes the labia minora, labia majora, urethra and clitoris.  Only when discussing your vaginal opening and inward, is it actually the vagina.”

“Ohhh, really?”  You ask, leaning in for a closer look.  He nods, smiling at your perceived interest.  “Now where is the urethra on here…”

He points to a tiny hole that you couldn’t have found with the CIA on your side.  

“I figured it was somewhere there, but you know I didn’t know there were three holes until an episode of Oprah told me when I was a teenager?”

“I have heard that before.  It’s unfortunate how many women don’t know about their own bodies when they own them, right?  But curriculums aren’t set up to teach it without thinking they are sexualizing things to kids.”

“But it’s not!  It’s their bodies, they have those things so they should know!”

He raises a hand up to you and you smack it without thinking.  The loud clap between you both sends a shock beneath you.  The doctor’s charm was bringing you out of your shell little by little.

“Right.  The best way of learning is demonstrative.  They gotta see what you’re talking about to get it.  Now I’m going to bring back what we spoke about earlier…”  He points to a higher area of the vulva.  “On here, the clitoris is here.  It’s fairly easy to spot, it’s not hidden and that’s just to make it easier for a teacher to show.  But not everyone is like this.”

“I know where mine is, so that’s fine.” 

“However…”  

You roll your eyes.  “Sure, it’s like your little paper says.  I can’t always get what I want from it.”

Dr. Stevens nods understandingly.  “Ok, that’s common.  Now one offer we have is an examination.  I won’t have to do anything but observe.”  

He stands up to reach underneath the side of the exam chair you’re sitting on to pull out a mirror on an extendable arm.  “You would just view yourself here and if you have questions along the way, I’ll answer them.”

You puff your cheeks to get rid of nerves, sitting back slightly as the paper crinkles and crackles.  

“I’ve been examined before.  Not my first rodeo, so let's do this.”   

A part of you couldn’t help but feel curious about what he may have to say about your parts as you hike your gown up.  He pulls out two mini stirrups to rest your feet on as you spread your legs apart.  Dr. Stevens stands next to you, adjusting the mirror to get the best visual of your vulva for you.

“Huh.”  You say.

“What’s up?”   He asks.

“Mine looks nothing like the diagram.”  You take your hand to pull apart your lips some. 

“What do you notice is different?”  He asks.

“A lot,” you say with a tone of defeat.  Why does every vagina depict this pink flower with symmetrical lips that barely overflow and a ready clitoris that probably distracts if you had to ride a bike.

Dr. Stevens stands beside you, hands behind his back, peering politely from you to the mirror reflection.  “What specifically?”

You exhale deeply.  “Right out the gate, the color is nothing like the rappers be talking about.  Pink pussy this and that.  It looks kind of like if you had grape bubblicious and once the flavor is gone and you toss it?  Yeah….”  You pull your inner lips to the side with your middle and ring finger.  “And my urethra is there huh?”

He nods, adjusting the mirror for shared benefit.  “Exactly right in the middle.  It’s kind of small so not surprising that you wouldn’t notice.”

“Interesting.”  You feel a sense of discovery within you as you actually learn a thing or two from this exercise.  Looking back at the model vagina on the counter, you think of a new question.

“Ok, so the clitoris right?  Why is it so difficult for me to get to it?”

Dr. Stevens crosses his arms.  “Well, you might be affected by the clitoral hood.  It helps to protect it but can be bothersome during arousal.  So depending on what position you are in, it may take some maneuvering.  Try moving it back now; take two fingers on either side and pull back.”

You do as instructed, feeling a sensation hit your exposed skin until you see the little pearl looking button that must be it.  Your finger grazes it, making your legs jerk unexpectedly.

“Whoa, ok, haha.  That’s it.”  You laugh sheepishly, pulling your legs closer together.

He places a hand on your back encouragingly.  “That’s ok!  Honestly, it's best to make sure you also have feeling.  Don’t be shy to try.”

You open your knees again and gently feel around for your clitoris again.  You can tell you’re close but the feeling is not as intense.  Embarrassment starts to affect you as you notice your concentrated expression is not at all sexy and what woman doesn’t know where to stimulate themselves.

Dr. Stevens notices the trouble, stepping away from you to get a pair of gloves, latex popping against his skin.

“It looks like you are rubbing yourself through your clitoral hood, which can be fine but I think for what issue you’re having, you would want as much surface area pleasure as possible.  Now I could show you, but that’s up to you.”

Your body tenses up at the question he was asking.  Seeing as he has gloves on, you don’t suspect he meant to show you on the model vagina.  But that’s why you’re here, right?  To get help and also to be touched by a smart, handsome, kind gentleman that you never met in a backroom: just the normal human experience.

“Uh...well, it would certainly make it easier.  Sure.”  You say, moving your hand back to grip the exam seat as you sat like you were in the final stages of giving birth.  You repeat in your mind that he is a medical professional that means no harm and any gynecological exam gets awkward sometimes and he has also seen thousands, so yours won’t get him any more rattled than the next one.  

You watch as he nods to you, confirming he received your consent.  He rests one hand on your knee and the other reaches toward your now throbbing lips.  Time seems to move slow until he finally makes contact, giving you a jolt again.

“Sorry.  I know it’s different with a foreign hand but let me know if it’s uncomfortable.”  He says kindly.

You take a deep breath and drink in his comforting words.  “All good!  X marks the spot, right?”

You feel his fingers slide along your inner lips, giving them an occasional gentle pull that curls your toes.  “Now, your labia minora doesn’t look like the model because the model is the depiction of a white woman’s genitalia.  More often, Black people won’t have that high pink color that is praised as you said.  But it does not make you abnormal or less desirable.”

“No?’  You ask quietly, relaxing under his touch once again.  The medical terminology is a good distraction from what is happening, so you try concentrating on that instead of your growing arousal.  

He smirks, revealing those dimples that caught your eye again.  “Not at all.  So don’t listen to anything otherwise.  You look perfect.”  He looks at you as he says this, pulling and stroking at your lips slowly you can’t help the arousal building between you, breaking eye contact as soon as possible to study the mirror.  

But that only makes you hotter to see him touch you as you gasp out,  “Well that’s good news!”  

He looks back down at your vulva again.  “Now I am doing this one handed, which may not be comfortable when you attempt, but it’s easiest for me since my fingers are thick and nimble.”

“Hey, practice makes perfect...I mean, not like you have played with a lot of vagina before.  Not played but examined...which I guess if you’re good at it, you would have played with many vaginas then, right?”

Dr. Stevens gives you a confused look before breaking into a chuckle.  “Not ‘played’.  I don’t play with anything.  I work.”

 And I am glad you clocked in, you thought.

“But as I was saying, the clitoral hood can be pulled back like so…” 

You feel it before you can see it.  His thick fingers fan your lips out so much easier than your own hands, you gasp audibly before covering it with a cough.

“Uh huh, go on.”  You croak.

He appears to barely notice as he studies the reflection of your clit in the mirror, pressing his middle finger right on the peak.

“And that makes for a more accessible area in which you can arouse yourself, like so.”  

He slowly circles your clit over and over again, much longer than you expected for an examination.  Are you supposed to say stop, you’re unsure.  Can he sue you for cumming on his hand?  You feel your thighs beginning to buckle and attempt to close them but his grip on your knee was stronger than you noticed at first.  Once his middle finger plunged inside of you, there is no going back.  You can’t control the small mewling sounds you make as he touches you.

“You have a good amount of lubrication produced as well.”  He says matter of factly, spreading your wetness along your lips.  He bites down on his lower lip as he rubs your vulva.

“No shit!  I mean…”  You slip up, getting too comfortable but he pats your knee, flashing that winning smile.

“It’s ok, just remain relaxed, you’re almost done.  But yeah, long as you keep the hood pulled back like so and set a rhythm, you should have a pleasurable experience going forward.  If not, come back to me”

“I’ll cum alright,” you moan as your head falls back as you bring your hips forward, rocking against his hand for more friction.   This naughty spirit enveloped you.  If he ever said to stop, your train would’ve derailed, but he never did.  His accommodations to your reactions sent you further down a path to unrighteous glee.

He penetrates you with two fingers, while running this thumb along your clit in tandem with the strokes.  “Is that better?”  He asks, stroking you faster.

You nod, throwing caution to the wind as you grab hold of his wrist, writhing against his finger before your body decides it has had enough.�� You felt like how chocolate tastes: lush, sweet, a jolt of energy with a smidge of guilt but unwilling to put it down.

Erik holds you close with his freehand.  “That’s good, ride it out and hold on to me.  I feel you tightening, you’re just about there, aren’t you?”

“Mhm!”  you dig your face into his chest, breathing erratically as your climax approaches.  It mattered that it was him doing it.  How you got so lucky was a question you weren’t willing to confront because it just felt so good, why even think.

“Let that pretty pussy sing, you got it.”  The release you feel wash over you makes you feel like world peace started and ended in your pussy and you screamed for joy.  You lean back on your elbows as he rests his hand still against your mound, your walls pulse in the afterglow.  

“That’s better, right?  Luckily I see you have a fully functioning muscle down there.”  He says before going to take off his gloves.

You shakily pull your gown down and begin to sit up.  “I hope so cuz if that is what sick feels like, I don’t wanna recover.”

He snickers at your comment, writing something down on some paper, tearing off a piece, folding it to give to you.

“Now, this is something in case arousal doesn’t always come to you easily.  That’s a prescription that can get the job done naturally and quickly.  Take that home with you and you can order it any time you feel it may be necessary.”

You nod, getting up to put it in your pocket.  “Thanks.  You know my friends recommended I come here and I can’t say I am upset.”

Erik holds his clipboard in front of him, holding out a hand to you.  “I’m glad you came.”

You shook it and as he left, you got dressed and drove home feeling lighter than air.  You started to call your friends about it but figured you might start at the pharmacy just to see what he prescribed.  If men can have a ‘get freaky’ pill, why not you.  You dug out the prescription from your pocket and your mouth dropped when you read it.

Erik 555-0123, use as recommended.

Part 2

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy​

[the-river-person]

Greatness

With a resounding crash the wooden barrel lid he was using as a target was shattered as the bones hit it straight on. Undyne cheered enthusiastically from where she sat and watched from the gate. Though Papyrus still came daily to her house for his training, things had changed here too. He’d long passed spaghetti and moved on to other dishes. Almost all of what Undyne made was fairly inedible anyway, but neither of them really minded much, even if the house ended up on fire while they were trying to make a pie. Neither one was entirely sure how fire had gotten involved this time, given that they were attempting a recipe for a frozen custard pie, but the house was definitely blazing merrily and the light of the dancing flames was reflected off the smooth black volcanic stone that was plentiful in Waterfall’s many caves and tunnels. It still burned now, because they hadn’t bothered to try and put it out, and had instead switched to the more aggressive part of his training. Combat. There was no question now that Papyrus was ready for the guard, and Undyne was quickly running out of further challenges or tests to give him before she’d be forced into a decision. Both were aware of the reason for the delay. Nobody was really certain what was to become of the Royal Guard. It was an organization that had served the Royal Family for generations, and had only recently turned all its efforts and focus onto humans. But Undyne’s entire career had been within that final stretch where the humans were the focus, and she was the oldest member of the guard despite her young age. None of the others still in the guard had joined till after her, and when Gerson had passed on the reigns it was her they followed diligently. Sure it wasn’t impossible to return the guard to its normal functions of protecting the Royal Family and acting as peacekeepers of the Underground. But would they be needed? Or wanted? It would be the decision of the King and Queen, who were still on uncertain terms. There were a lot of things that were still being figured out. Until they knew the fate of the Guard, Undyne would wait. Papyrus knew it was to prevent him from getting his hopes up, and he appreciated that, but still he wanted so badly to be a part of it all. Of course there were still some things the Guard would be needed for. Though the Human stayed with the Queen and wandered with her wherever she went, many Monsters still feared them. Papyrus himself had seen entire classes at the new school suddenly go empty as Monsters made various mumbled excuses to slip away even as the Queen sadly watched them from the corner of her eye. All because of the little Human who sat quietly in the corner, watching passively as everything moved forward. He understood their fear, of course he did. Even the smallest of human children, with enough Determination, was powerful enough to spell the end of the Underground a thousand times over. But they’d stopped, hadn’t they? They’d chosen a different path, a path of mercy. It was sad that Sans had been the one to confront the Human so many times. Flowey had described how Sans had been the last one left, the only one who dared to stop the Human before they went too far. And then again, and again, until they simply did things that way because it was how they’d always done it. Why Sans had to fight, he didn’t know, but Papyrus felt sure that those days were over. Whatever the reasons, things had changed, and change of this kind wasn’t easily wiped away, not even with a Reset. Still that didn’t seem to be enough for most Monsters. They wanted justice for past deeds, justice for all the pain humans had caused them, not just this one little one, though they’d certainly done more than any other. And they wanted the source of their fear to go away. To stop scaring them. A quarter of an hour later he’d left Undyne and was thoughtfully trudging through the dark and damp tunnels of Waterfall. A sound reached him, the sound of something digging in the dark, of the rustle of leaves, of very soft muttering. “FLOWEY,” he said out loud. The flower had never managed to sneak up on him properly just yet, that he knew of anyway. “I KNOW IT’S YOU. YOU CAN COME OUT NOW.” “Drat. I was hoping I had you that time,” said the little golden flower as it popped out of the shadows to his left with a bright and cheerful smile. “Do you think you could let me win, just the once?” Striking a dramatic pose, Papyrus wagged his finger admonishingly at the flower. “NYEHEHEH! YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT. EVERYTHING THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES WILL BE DONE TO THE HIGHEST STANDARDS! IF YOU WISH TO DEFEAT ME, YOU WILL HAVE TO SIMPLY TRY HARDER! BUT DON’T WORRY...” He smiled down at his little friend. “I BELIEVE IN YOU.” The expression on the face of the flower was not the one he was expecting. He’d hoped for gratitude or laughter, or even just the usual perpetual cheer that Flowey presented. But instead he only found irritation. “How do you always do that?” snarled Flowey. “Every single time you stayed true. No matter how many resets or details, no matter how bad things got, no matter how many times your attacks beat the human down, no matter how murderous they became before they reached you. You never once let loose. No death, nothing. You just forgive and forgive and forgive even when it hurts you! But you’re one of the strongest Monsters here! Nearly strong enough to be a Boss Monster even! Why do you keep believing in people who can’t change? Who don’t want to be better?” By the time Flowey had managed to get everything out, he was shouting, his little face screwed up in frustration. For a long moment, Papyrus said nothing, waiting, and the flower started to look regretful of the outburst, as if he’d remembered that his friend wouldn’t just forget anymore. “BECAUSE I CHOOSE TO.” Flowey’s face jerked back up to stare at him, and Papyrus’s gaze was unflinching as he gazed back. This outburst must have been building for a long time, he should give the best answer he could. “I KNOW WHAT THE WORLD IS LIKE, WHAT PEOPLE, MONSTERS AND HUMANS ALIKE, HAVE DONE AND ARE STILL WILLING TO DO. BUT I KNOW WHAT THE WORLD COULD BE LIKE. WE COULD BE KINDER, WE COULD BE BETTER. I CAN’T CHANGE THE WORLD BY MYSELF. I TRIED FOR A WHILE, AND PEOPLE JUST WROTE ME OFF AS NAIVE, FORGETTABLE, AND BLIND TO THE WAY THINGS ARE. SO WHEN SANS AND I MOVED TO SNOWDIN I MADE A DIFFERENT PROMISE. I CAN’T CHANGE THE WORLD, BUT I CAN CHANGE ME, AND THAT’S A GOOD START. I’LL BE THE BEST PAPYRUS, THE GREATEST PAPYRUS, I CAN BE.” He had the flower’s attention now. It was clear that in all the Resets, in all the time Flowey had known him that he couldn’t remember much of, he had never told him this part of the story. Flowey gazed at him in fascination, hanging on every word like it was pure gold. “EVEN THE WORST PERSON, SOMEONE WHO HAS FALLEN SO FAR THAT THEY FEEL LIKE THEY’RE SEPARATED FROM EVERYTHING, TRAPPED BY THEIR OWN CHOICES, BY THE PERSON THEY MADE THEMSELVES INTO, CAN STILL CHANGE. EXECUTION POINTS, LEVELS OF VIOLENCE... THEY DON’T MAKE YOU EVIL, THEY’RE JUST NUMBERS, RECORDS OF THINGS YOU’VE ALREADY DONE. THEY MIGHT MEAN TERRIBLE AWFUL THINGS, EVEN EVIL THINGS, BUT THEY DON’T MAKE YOU EVIL. THAT’S A DECISION YOU MAKE YOURSELF EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY. JUST LIKE SOMEONE CAN DECIDE TO BE GOOD.” It was odd how often the flower’s expression changed. Sometimes Papyrus thought it was almost like looking at someone who tried on different masks for different feelings, someone who didn’t want to show their real face underneath all the fakeness on top. Flowey was looking not just taken aback, but almost appalled. Not all of the flower’s history was a mystery to him, Sans had never been the most trusting, but even before the Resets had been revealed to everyone, the smaller skeleton had showed a certain level of distrust, or almost fury towards Flowey. When something had happened and Sans locked himself away for days on end, and Papyrus had stumbled upon the Resets through his growing Determination to help, it was Flowey he’d looked for. Though Flowey had only spoken of the Human and of Resetting time and of Sans, there was enough to know that there was more to the story. And Sans had only confirmed that by acting so frightened about where Papyrus had gotten the information. Whatever Flowey had done, whatever he was, it wasn’t good or kind. He could imagine the little bright smile staying just as happy and cheerful even as all the Monsters in the Underground perished one by one. But that horrified expression, something he’d said had certainly struck a chord, and not one that Flowey liked. “I WOULD NOT BE THE GREAT ANYTHING IF, WHEN A PERSON WHO WAS SO TRAPPED BY THEMSELVES CAME ALONG, AND I DIDN’T OFFER THEM THE CHANCE THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR TO CHANGE. WHAT IF THAT WAS THE ONLY OPPORTUNITY? IF I GAVE IN AND SIMPLY FOUGHT THEM OFF OR RAN...THEY WOULDN’T HAVE THAT CHANCE ANYMORE. IF I KILLED THEM, I WOULDN’T BE THE ME I CHOSE, I’D BE SOME OTHER PAPYRUS I DON’T WANT TO BE, SOME LESS GREAT AND NOT AS WONDERFUL PAPYRUS. STILL AMAZING, BUT LESS SO BECAUSE HE WOULDN’T BE ME. SO I WOULD WANT TO KEEP TRYING, EVEN TO THE VERY LAST MOMENT, TO MY DEATH. I COULD BE THE ONLY ONE WHO OFFERS THEM THAT CHOICE TO CHANGE. I DON’T REMEMBER MORE THAN DARK DREAMS AND BITS AND PIECES OF MEMORIES, NOT LIKE SANS REMEMBERS THOSE TIMES, BUT I BELIEVE THAT THOSE MES WOULD WANT TO BE THE GREATEST PAPYRUS AS WELL.” One of his greatest monologues yet. Even if it was a bit of an uncomfortable subject to go on about. For his part, Flowey looked as if he’d swallowed something very unpleasant. “It’s just a choice? That’s all? You don’t even do it because it makes you feel good? Because you feel important?” It was a good point. There had always been the impulse to push himself forward, into the center of attention. To be loved and adored by everyone and recognized for being such a great person. But still... “I...” he said slowly, thinking it through as he spoke. “I DON’T THINK IT’S WRONG TO ENJOY DOING GOOD THINGS, OR TO FEEL IMPORTANT IF YOU DID SOMETHING GREAT. SOMETIMES YOU CAN EVEN DO GOOD THINGS FOR OTHERS BECAUSE IT’S LIKE DOING SOMETHING GOOD FOR YOU TOO AT THE SAME TIME. YOU’RE CHOOSING TO PRACTICE DOING THE RIGHT THING, AND THE THINGS YOU DO STILL HELP PEOPLE. AND IF YOU CAN LEARN TO DO GOOD THINGS FOR LOTS OF DIFFERENT REASONS BECAUSE YOU PRACTICED SO HARD AT IT, THAT’S GREAT TOO! SOME OF THEM MIGHT BE ABOUT FEELING GOOD, AND OTHER TIMES IT MIGHT BE BECAUSE ITS JUST THE RIGHT THING TO DO. ONE DAY, IF YOU PRACTICE ENOUGH, YOU CAN BE STRONG ENOUGH TO TRY AND DO GOOD EVEN WHEN YOU GET HURT BECAUSE OF IT. BUT IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T.” He smiled, his eyelights twinkling in their sockets. “EVEN SMALL GOOD THINGS ARE STILL GOOD. GREATNESS ISN’T ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT, YOU CAN BE GREAT BECAUSE OF YOUR CHOICES, EVEN WHEN NOBODY NOTICES A THING.” Flowey said nothing at all. His expression had returned to something more neutral, but it was clear that something had provoked a reaction, a response. Knowing it was getting late, Papyrus resumed his walking, and Flowey burrowed into the earth, popping out here and there ahead of him, but never quite looking at him, or speaking. It was only when they’d reached the first hints of snow that he spoke up, his voice very quiet. “And what about after? What does the person do after? Even if they change, how are people supposed to forgive the things they did? Or trust them ever again? Why should they? Maybe the person has changed, but it doesn’t fix the stuff they did. Right?” Today was a day for hard questions, wasn’t it? “I DON’T KNOW FOR SURE. I COULD FORGIVE SOMEONE IF I KNEW THEY WERE TRULY CHANGING. BUT OTHERS MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO, OR DON’T WANT TO. I DON’T THINK THAT’S WRONG OF THEM, BECAUSE THEY WERE HURT. SOME MIGHT FORGIVE, BUT NOT TRUST, BECAUSE THEY CAN’T ACCEPT THE RISK OF GETTING HURT AGAIN. I THINK THAT’S OKAY TOO.” He stared off at the distant cavernous ceiling above the peaks and valleys of Snowdin Forest, and the trails of smoke that drifted lazily from the chimneys of the town. “I DON’T THINK PEOPLE HAVE TO FORGIVE, OR EVEN TRUST. IT MIGHT BE NICE IF THEY DID, BUT IT’S HARD TO BE THE BEST YOU IF YOU KEEP EXPECTING THEM TO BE JUST LIKE YOU. THEY MIGHT BE STRONG IN A DIFFERENT WAY, LIKE BEING DETERMINED NO MATTER WHAT, OR SUPLEXING BOULDERS, OR-” “Alright! Alright! I get it!” Flowey butt in hastily, cutting him off just as he was beginning his list. Without another word the flower dove into the earth and did not resurface again. Papyrus shrugged. Hopefully the little flower had gotten what he wanted, and it had been nice to talk about these sorts of things to someone other than Sans for once. He waved cheerily to the River Person as the boat sailed by on the river. “Tra la la,” remarked the hooded figure happily, returning his wave. “The Angel is coming.” And then he was gone. “WOWEE,” said Papyrus to himself. “TODAY HAS BEEN A VERY ODD DAY.”

[kob131]

True Name: Uther Pendragon Class: Saber Gender: Male Alignment: Lawful Good (believes he is Lawful Neutral) Parameter: Strength: B Endurance: A Agility: C Mana: E Luck: C NP: B+

History: Uther was born as the youngest of three brothers, himself, the Black Dragon Vortigern and the Paranoid Prince Ambrousis. After their father Constantine was died, the eldest son Ambrousis took the throne at the young age of 14. Due to an innate paranoia, the treachery of royal politics and persistent rumors of his father having been poisoned, Ambrousis sought to weed out all potential traitors and dangers to himself In his madness, he killed civilians for speaking unfavorably and nobles for dealing with other nations.

Unable to tolerate his eldest brother’s actions, Uther, alongside the middle child Vortigern, staged a rebellion against Ambrousis, uniting several lords and knights across Britan to wage war against his enthroned and madden kin. Through numerous bloody battles, he forced Ambrousis to met his demise by his own hand, with no small amount of grief and sadness. Soon after, the lords of the land agreed to name him King, something that would come to frustrate his last living brother.

Throughout his reign, he came into conflict with his neighbors/arch enemies the Saxxons. The two kingdoms went to war with each other many, many times, almost always with Uther just barely managing to edge a victory. During these many wars, he was always noted to be seen wandering near lakeside, gazing wistfully out upon the water. One night, on the last of his many walks to the lakes of the land, returned with two twin newborns in hand, girls who he would name Morgan and Morgause and claim as his children. No one is quite certain who the mother of these two was...

Later in life, as the strain of his life came to haunt him, he began to seek an heir to which take his throne upon his increasingly likely death. However, due to lacking a wife and having only daughters who could not be accepted by his kingdom, he looked to his old and trusted friend Merlin. Together, they hatched a plan for Uther to impregnate the lovely Lady Igraine with the king impersonating her lover through Merlin’s magic. Alas, though the child was blessed with the blood of a dragon, it was also yet another daughter, named Arturia. Distraught and despondent, Uther gave up his quest for a successor and left the child in Merlin’s care.

This turn of events alongside the death of his legitimate child Morgause left Uther in the worst of health. His body deteriorated day after day, for years on end until one day, seven years after those events, he died due to a combination of sickness and poison by his lifelong enemies....*

Personality: Quite unlike his successor, Uther is open and friendly man who ruled through trust and familiarity, while not being the best at administration. He warms the hearts of both his retainers and his people with his honesty and openness. Alas, this warmth also lends itself to a certain...fiery temperament in battle.

A man tried to uphold honor and dignity during his life, helping define the code of honor that many among the succeeding generation would uphold as their standard. That said, he could not always uphold it as the conception of his youngest child will tell you. 

Below his surface though, he holds a great many regrets. He laments his killing of his brother, his inability to stop the tyranny of his other sibling, his failure to properly raise the children under his care, his shame at the manipulation of Igraine born from a moment’s weakness and lust and his perceived abandonment of his youngest child. Because of this, he feels rather uncomfortable around most British servants, especially those from his era as it reminds him of his failures. Though, he still trusts and respects Merlin (even holding the distinction of being one of the few people able to catch the flower magus off guard).

He also regrets not having tried to defy the laws of inheritness during his time, as he sees this inaction having caused the many conflicts and pain of his successors.

Noble Phantasm:

Flame Sword of the Dragon King: Caliburn Classification: Anti-Personnel Rank: B+

Born from the legends that he himself wielded Caliburn before lodging it in it’s infamous stone as well as the misconception that he himself had dragon blood- Uther wields an altered version of Caliburn of similar quality to it’s true self. In battle, he can ignite the sword with dragonfire and enhance it’s power before releasing it in an inferno the swallows the opponent. The Noble Phantasm itself is not the sword but rather the technique and skill that Uther uses when swinging the ignited sword.

Relationships:

Merlin

Still views him as a trusted advisor and friend. Wishes he would not inform him of his daughters’ sex life. Holds the distinction of being one of the few people to catch Merlin off guard.

“Ah, Merlin. My old friend! You are truly a sight for these sore eyes... Would I like to hear about my child? ... I know you better than to answer yes.”

Arturia Pendragon

A father in name only, he believes. He feels nothing but shame and remorse upon seeing her, believing he does not deserve to be considered among her family. This despite Arturia’s admiration of his own rule.

“... Of course, she is here. The noble King of Knights who did what I could not... No Master, I do not wish to speak with her. I had that chance long ago...”

Arthur Pendragon

Is VERY confused why he has a look alike calling him ‘Father.’ While accepting of the man, Uther can’t help but feel bitter about how things seemed to have worked out for his other self.

“Master? Why is that lad giving me such a strange look? ... Arthur Pendragon? My son from another world? ... *sigh* Of course I find an heir I could truly pass on to NOW of all times...”

Lancelot

Is quite confused (then amused) that his daughter’s greatest knight is a Frenchman. Uther shares a kinship with him as a fellow knight ashamed of his past. Helps that Lancelot is the first Servant he meets upon arriving at Chaldea.

“Ah sir Lancelot! I was wondering if you and I could partake in a friendly spar sometime soon! Yes yes, I shall try to keep from getting too excited like last time.”

The Orkney Siblings (Gawain, Agravain, Gareth, Garehis)

Uther feels deeply conflicted with the siblings, knowing that they are the children of his one surviving child and yet his own failings as father caused them harm indirectly. He is, however, forced to put these feelings aside as the knights all deeply admire and adore him, having been raised on stories of his heroics. Especially the eldest Gawain.

(Gawain) “Oh, you are...yes, Gawain. Morgan’s eldest son. I shall take my leave. ... Wait, You want me to stay? You want to know about my battles? Haha, I-I don’t know what to say.”

(Gareth) “Oh, young Gareth. What a surprise, what brings you to me? ... A jousting battle? Young lady, do I appear to be of the Lancer Class in any manner? ... Now it’s a sparring match?!”

Vortigern

The mere sight of his elder brother deeply enrages Uther. The pain of his brother Ambrousis’ death dredged up at the sight of the sibling he believes he should have slain, there is no chance that Uther will ever cooperate with Vortigern.

“VORTIGERN! Damn you to hell, you inhuman tyrant!”

Morgan Le Fay Pendragon

To say the sight of his eldest daughter brings Uther pain would be nothing if not an understatement. Pressured by the constant wars and responsibilities as king, along with no partner to help him in raising a family, he could never truly invest himself into Morgan’s life as he wished to. Because of this, the death of her sister and even his own, Morgan walked a path of sacrifice and failure, transforming her into the brutal witch she is known as. All because, in Uther’s eyes, he could not comfort her.

“Morgan, oh Morgan. You have suffered so much, despite never wishing for the throne yourself. Seeking it out for Morgause and myself... Forgive your fool of a father, for he could not save you from this.”

Mordred

He did not recognize her as his kin at first but greatly enjoyed her company. Upon learning of her full heritage, Uther resolved himself to make up for his failures with her parents and help guide her to a better life.

“Ah, Mordred. Come, come. We have much to talk about. Yes yes, I know you feel as though my talks are long winded and boring. But I ask of you: will you allow this old man to indulge talking to his grandchild? Ha ha, no need to blush, I should be thanking you after all.”

*Sorry to any Arthurian myth fans but holy fuck, not only is Fate’s iteration of the Round Table Myth really hard to faithfully adapt the original myth- The myth ITSELF gets really patchy when not directly concerning Arthur. 

Like, the actual villain of early Uther’s life was VORTIGERN, who was NOT his brother. That doesn’t line up with Fate so I had to make the good guy Ambrousis a bad guy. And THEN it turns out that Uther fucked and married Igraine BEFORE Arthur which again doesn’t match up to Fate. So had to change the mother of Morgan and Morgause to someone else just for this to make sense.

[taegis-gf]

Forbidden - Part 1

Dealer!yoongi x Reader

Warnings ➜ phone sex, sexting, heavy drug use, alcohol use

Summary ➜ You never meant to lock eyes with the beautiful stranger at Namjoon’s house party, you also didn’t mean to completely fall for him, knowing exactly how dangerous it was.

Word Count ➜ 9.3K

NB: if drug-taking in fics isn’t for you/or makes you uncomfortable, also reader is literally getting with a drug dealer so if any of this isn't for you  - please don’t read!

Part 2

As you tried to finish up your final assignment of the week, you sat on your dorm room bed, legs crossed in front of your laptop. You were almost there just a few more paragraphs to go.

As you finished writing the last sentence your phone began to buzz, turning it round to see who it was you read the name with a small smile, tapping your finger on the screen to answer. 

“Hey! You ready to party?” Jungkook’s loud voice yelled down the phone to you.

You rolled your eyes at his excited tone, the youngest out of all you was always down for a party, and to his own credit, he definitely knew how to do it right. 

“Yeah, whose house is it at this time?” You asked.

“Namjoon’s house, you know he has that huge ass mansion and his parents are away on some business trip so it’s gonna be a fucking good night.” You could practically hear him shaking with his excitement over the phone.

“Sweet, did anyone get any pick-me-ups?” You asked, closing your laptop and stretching your legs out.

“I didn’t ask but I’m sure someone has something.” He replied. “So be there in an hour and let's live it up.” And with that, he hung up. No further information or even a goodbye, but that was Jungkook for you.

“Crazy bastard.” You mumbled under your breath before going to get showered and ready.

* 

As you pulled up in your taxi to Namjoon’s house you could hear the music blaring from inside the car, you paid and thanked the driver before walking up to the doorstep. You had dressed up a little tonight, rocking a black skirt with black ankle boots and a jumper to keep it a little more casual, however you were showing a lot of leg, which wasn’t usually your style, but you had thought to change things up a little couldn’t hurt. As you pulled down on the handle you weren’t surprised the door was unlocked, stepping in to be hit with the smells of smoke, weed and alcohol you were a little taken aback not expecting the party to be in such full swing already. 

You could never quite believe how big Namjoon’s home was when you walked into it, it was huge with 4 floors and about 10 bathrooms, you had been here countless of times but every time it still shocked you, he wasn’t even the richest out of your small group of friends which was the even more surprising part, you knew Jin’s parents were just as well off and when you went to his house you really couldn’t believe who you were friends with, having lived not the most privileged life. However, the rest of them were not as rich, still rich by your standards but definitely not to this extent which had put you at ease when you were just beginning to know them. 

Them. The 6 best friends you could have asked for, knowing them from childhood you had grown up with them and you were still as inseparable as the beginning.

You walked down the long hallway and saw a few people loitering on the grand staircase but you knew where to find your friends. As you went into the kitchen there they were,  sitting at the table which could seat about 20 people, but it was just the 6 of them, sitting around with their drinks in their hands.

Taehyung was the first one to spot you and he gave you a small cheer

“Look who it is! I saved you a seat.” He said, patting his thigh.

You rolled your eyes, pulling up a chair beside Jin to see him lining himself up a line of something white. 

“Is that coke? Are you going to share?” You asked nudging him slightly. 

“No fucking way, this is the last of it, ask someone else.” He said.

You looked around the table to see them all looking at Jin.

“Jin what the fuck man, we always count on you to have shit, what do you mean that’s the last of it?” Jimin asked from across the table.

Jin looked up from intently splitting the powder into 2 thin lines his brows creased.

“You mean none of you have anything on you?” He said looking around at everyone as they all shook their heads.

“Hoseok I thought you got coke from that new dealer you met at that party?” Jin asked.

“Nah man turned out his product’s dodgy as fuck, I only trust the stuff you get and since you won't give us your dealer's name…”

Jin let out a long sigh.

“Fine fine, I’ll call my dealer to see if he can get me anything in the next hour if not, looks like we’ll be snorting alcohol tonight.” He said with a small chuckle.

“Oh fuck that, he better hook you up, this needs to be a great night.” Jungkook chimed in.

“You can have a good night without it you know.” You shot back.

“Yeah I don’t want a good night, I want a great night, call him Jin.”

Jin took a crisp 20 out of his pocket and began rolling it up.

“Jin! Please, man, I’m begging you.” Jungkook said again after receiving no response.

Jin put his face to the table running the makeshift tube up the line snorting it all at once with one huge sniff and he sat back one holding his other nostril taking a few more heavy sniffs and wiping at his nose.

“Okay fine.” He said breaking out a small smile.

You laughed so hard tears formed, there was something so darkly comical about the event that had just unfolded you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Since you’re the only one that finds me funny around here Y/N you can have the other line.” He said passing it over to you.

You looked at him a little in disbelief, “Really? Fuck, thanks Jin.” You said before sniffing up the line in one swift movement.

You immediately felt the small rush to your head and broke into a small smile.

“Jin! Come on man this isn’t fair! You’re already having a good night and I’m not.”

Jungkook complained again and you smiled a little at his childish behaviour.

“I’m going I’m going. Let me give him a call.” Jin said pushing his chair back and standing up.

Before leaving the room Jin walked over to Jungkook, standing in front of him he stuck his palm out. 

Jungkook looked at him confused.

“You going to pay for your share?” He asked, sounding serious.

Jungkook looked at him in disbelief, “What about everyone else?!” He asked, his voice rising in pitch. Everyone stayed silent, trying not to burst into laughter.

“I’ve got everyone else covered I just want your share.” He said.

Jungkook looked well…distressed for lack of a better word, reaching into his pocket he pulled out a crumpled 10, which Jin plucked out of his hands.

“Thanks man.” Jin said, a small smirk on his face before leaving the room.

Everyone laughed loudly, tears falling.

*

When Jin had returned to the room he gave everyone the thumbs up letting them know his dealer was on his way and would get him sorted in about an hour.

“Jin man you have to give me your dealers number he sounds like an angel sent from heaven,” Hoseok said.

“A little coke angel.” Namjoon chimed in, which gave everyone at the table a small chuckle.

“No way I already told you all. None of you are getting his name or number, you’re all losers and he won’t want to deal with me if I introduce you to him.” 

You knew you should have been offended but honestly, you kind of knew what Jin was saying, he had always been the chilled, cooler one out of the 7 of you, people trusted and respected him because he just radiated that sort of aura, not to mention he was a little older than the rest of you.

Funnily enough, no one argued back, Hoseok just gave a little sigh of defeat and went back to his beer.

*

As the night really began you were definitely having fun, the coke had really kicked in and you began drinking beer to add to your buzz. 

You soon enough found yourself in the huge living room, which was insanely crowded, the music was the loudest in here and before you knew it you were up dancing in the middle of the room, which had kind of become a makeshift dance floor for the night. 

As you got up and began dancing with a few girls you knew, you spotted someone sitting on the edge of the couch who you had never seen before. He wasn’t looking in your direction but the pull you felt looking at him was indescribable. You had never seen someone so beautiful. You really studied him for a moment but you soon realised you didn’t know who he was, which was unusual for you considering you knew or had a least seen most of the people in here at least once before. Just before you went to focus your attention back to the girls - feeling a little stalker-ish for staring – he looked at you, scanning the room he locked eyes with you and you immediately glanced away, mentally cursing yourself out for staring.

As you focused your attention back on dancing you couldn’t help the heat that spread across your cheeks, you still felt like his eyes were burning into you and that was all you could think about. 

That was when you felt a pair of hands snake around your waist, you immediately turned only to be faced with Taehyung, he always got touchy with you when the both of you were drunk, and to be frank you behaved the exact same way.

“Hey, sexy you come here often?” He asked with a small wink.

“Hm, sometimes, what about you?” You said sliding your hands up around his neck feeling a little flirtier than usual, maybe it was the thought of the handsome stranger watching you.

Taehyung didn’t even need to reply, sliding his hands down and resting them at your hips and you began swaying back and forth with him.

After dancing for a while your mind went back to the guy you had saw and you wondered if he was still there, you glanced over to where he has been sitting only to see the space now empty.

“I’m gonna go pee.” You half yelled into Taehyung’s ear before manoeuvring through Namjoon’s large house. 

When you finally reached the closest bathroom it was locked, typical.  By the time you reached the 6th bathroom, you knocked on the door only to be greeted with silence. As you turned to go to the next you one you heard the door opening and turned back around, thankful you could finally pee. 

You turned ready to thank whoever it was only to be stunned into silence to see it was the guy from earlier. You felt frozen in place, looking at him up close was a completely different experience; he really was as beautiful as you had first thought.

He was looking at you with such a cool calm demeanour you almost felt embarrassed about your thoughts. 

“Sorry I just needed to use the bathroom.” You said almost choking on your own words. He gave you a small nod and stepped to the side. You walked passed him to go into the bathroom and as you turned to close the door he was already walking back down the stairs. 

Something in you wanted to call out to him and something in you did call out to him, you realised you didn’t know if he was staying or going and this could be only your chance.

“Sorry, excuse me! Do I know you from somewhere?” You asked.

He stopped mid-step in the middle of the staircase.

He turned to look at you. “No, we’ve never met before, believe me, I’d remember.” The line itself was cheesy but he said in such a way you could have swooned.

“I’m Y/N- Wait actually can we do this after I pee? Wait there one second.” With that you closed the door, you were a little too drunk to even feel shame at this point so after peeing the fastest you could and washing your hands, you got out of the bathroom in record time. When you opened the door you heart dropped a little that he wasn’t there anymore but as you approached the stairs you saw him standing at the bottom of the staircase talking to none other than Jin.

“Hey...” You said cautiously as you approached them both.

Both of them turned to look at you and you stopped short of the bottom step, not really sure what you were interrupting.

“Y/N, hey, I’m just talking to Yoongi here, I’ll meet you downstairs.” Ah, so the mystery man’s name was Yoongi but Jin was being curt with you and to be honest it irked you a little bit.

“Actually I’ve already met Y/N, we just had a nice chat.” He said a small smile on his face.

Jin’s eyes widened a little which confused you; you had chatted up plenty of guys at parties before what was different about this one? 

Then it hit you. 

This was Jin’s dealer. 

You suddenly felt a little stupid, but were dealers supposed to be this attractive? You always pictured them as sketchy older men who always looked twitchy.

Jin was glaring at you and you knew exactly what he was getting at, he did not want you fucking around with his dealer. 

You let out a small sigh before glancing over at Yoongi. 

“I guess…I’ll see you around?” You said, making it sound like more of a question.

“I’m sure Yoongi has better things to do than-”

“Actually,” Yoongi interrupted, “I was going to stay a little while if that’s okay Jin, I saw a few people I recognised earlier downstairs, would be nice to catch up.” He stated.

Jin cleared his throat a little, “Yeah no problem Yoongi, stay as long as you like and thanks again for coming on such short notice.”

You realised you had really overstayed your welcome in their conversation as you turned and began walked down the stairs.

“Y/N!” Jin called from above you. “Your ass is showing, pull your skirt down.”

You felt your cheeks burn as you immediately grabbed your skirt and tugged it down, at least you were wearing a sexy red thong, Jin was lucky for the show, you just prayed to all the god’s Yoongi hadn’t seen. 

*

About an hour had passed and you were back in the full swing of dancing, Taehyung had his hands all over you again and you didn’t even care, you were so coked up it was fucking shameful. 

“You know,” Taehyung was whispering in your ear, “me and you would be so fucking good together.”

You were smiling, eyes closed, still dancing up against him.

You and Taehyung had always had this strange attraction growing up, he always told you he thought you were beautiful and the fact he was offensively gorgeous didn’t help. 

But you saw how he treated women – he would fuck them and never speak to them again, you told yourself that you weren’t going to be another one of his conquests. 

However, that didn’t stop you and him from being make out buddies every now and again.

“Tae…” You whined as you felt his hands digging into your hips a little harder than usual, his actions were definitely getting to you more than they usually did and you could feel your whole body heat up.

He leaned in to kiss you and you immediately returned the kiss letting his tongue slide into your mouth, you began to run your hands through his offensively soft hair.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” He said, his breathing heavy.

You wanted him too. 

Admittedly it had been a long time from you had gotten laid and to say you were frustrated was an understatement. But it was a bad idea and you knew that no matter how drunk you got.

“Hm, you can’t have me Tae. You know that.” You said, smiling at him solemnly.

“Why is that beautiful? We’ve known each other forever, you could at least give me a little something, you know we’d be great together.” He replied, looking at you with that stupid smirk.

“Taehyung, I like making out with you but I’m never going to go farther than that, there is no together with you, you’re a classic fuck boy, we’d have sex and you’d never look at me again.” You said, sighing heavily.

There was a short time when you had been hopelessly in love with Taehyung, he was beautiful and you had been young and stupid. 

When you saw the sort of person he’d became your romantic love for him had slowly died out, knowing you never wanted that for yourself.

“You really think I’d do that to you? You’re my best friend Y/N.” He said, pouting his big beautiful lips.

You let out a short laugh, “That makes it worse, Tae, just drop it. I’m gonna go get another drink.” And with that you walked away from his embrace, you knew by the time you’d even reach the kitchen he will have already found a new girl to dance with. You loved him but god was he a player.

*

You found yourself sitting at the ridiculously big dining table once again, beer cradled in one hand as you looked around your surroundings, most of your friends where elsewhere but you could see Jungkook chatting up some beautiful girl out of the corner of your eye, you were feeling a little down and you realised it was because your high was slowly beginning to wear off, you needed another little pick-me-up you decided as you stood up in search of Jin. 

You searched the place for him finally seeing him sitting on the couch in living room number two, deep in talk with none other than Yoongi – god damnit, there was no way you could approach that situation and not embarrass yourself, but your low was coming on strong and you knew your night was only going to get worse.

“Hey guys…” you wavered, both heads turning to look directly at you, pulled from their conversation.

“Jin can I see you for a second?” You asked casually, pulling at a strand of your hair, you didn’t know what was making you jittery, the drugs in your system or Yoongi looking at you so intensely you felt your cheeks burning, you must’ve looked like a damn tomato.

“Hey Y/N!” Jin smiled at you widely, he must’ve been more gone than you were.

“Me and Yoongi were talking about music, you like music too don’t you?”

You let out a small laugh, “Yeah Jin…I think most of the population likes music.”

You heard Yoongi let out an airy laugh at your joke, although Jin just kept grinning up at you like he was making perfect sense.

“Okay then! So you talk to Yoongi while I go take a piss, perfect plan.” 

Before you could even begin to protest Jin was already heading upstairs, so with nothing better to do and in your drunken state you decided to plant yourself beside Yoongi. You sat a little too close, as both your knees touched you sat forward, resting your chin on your hand.

“So I’m guessing you two were talking about…let me guess…music?”

Yoongi let out another small laugh, causing you to smile, you liked that sound a lot.

“Yeah… I was just telling Jin about how I like making music, producing ya know? I don’t think he understood a damn word I was saying tho, dudes so blitzed.”

It was your turn to laugh “I think everyone here is blitzed.”

“Yeah sometimes it’s hard being the only sober one at a party, but at least I can take videos of Jin if he decides to get shirtless and dance on the pool table again.”

You laughed loudly this time, “Fuck! Has he really done that before? Do you have pictures, I must’ve missed that one.”

“Sadly no, I didn’t take any I was too busy making sure he didn’t kill himself, I was just dropping something off to him, but no one was else was making sure he didn’t die, so I stuck around a bit.”

“Have you known him long? I can’t believe we’ve never met before.” You said, resting a hand on his knee.

You were being bold and forward and you knew that but you hoped he didn’t mind.

You couldn’t really tell however as he didn’t even react to your advances, simply responding to your question instead.

“A few years, yeah, you’ve probably never seen me, I don’t stick around, I’m usually working.”

“Ah.” You said knowingly, you didn’t know if it was awkward to bring up the fact that he dealt drugs but you also knew he had figured out by now you knew what his ‘work’ was.

Before you could say anything else Jin's voice cut through the room as he made his way over to you both, you jerked your hand away from Yoongi’s knee, knowing it would do nothing but bring you trouble if he saw.

“So, did you guys talk?” He asked planting himself down beside you, a smile still on his face.

“Yeah-listen Jin I gotta go,” Yoongi said, his eyebrows low as he looked intensely at his phone.

Jin began to pout, “Stay Yoon, it’s been so long since we’ve talked like this.”

Yoongi smiled big at him and your heart nearly beat out of your chest then and there.

“Yeah, it’s been good Jin, but I gotta bounce. I’ll see you next time, okay?” When he began to stand up, you found yourself standing with him.

“I can show you out if you want.” You said, nerves completely overtaking you. You can’t remember the last time you really had to work for a guy’s attention like this, you were used to drunken gropes and getting to the sex bit quick enough, but that was all meaningless, drunken fumbles and hungover regrets.

You wanted Yoongi in a completely different way, and you couldn’t just let him walk out the door.

Yoongi nodded, and you walked in front of him making your way to the front door.

You stopped when you reached it, turning to face him, he stopped as well, looking at you, wondering why you stopped.

“I wanna see you again.” You said boldly, this wasn’t you, but you decided it was going to be your only chance.

Yoongi’s eyes widened in surprise at your confession and you shyly looked down at the ground, unable to meet his stare.

When you looked back up he was smirking, but it wasn’t smug.

“I’m really glad you said that.” He began “But wasn’t that guy you were dancing with your boyfriend?” He asked.

It was your turn to be surprised as you took a moment.

“Oh! You mean Taehyung? No, no he isn’t my boyfriend, he’s just a friend, he gets handsy when he’s drunk, to be honest, so do I.”

“I noticed.” Yoongi shot back.

You let out a nervous giggle.

Yoongi was smiling fondly but his facial expression quickly turned hard and cold.

 “I’m sorry, I’m being too forward, I just- I-” You began, but you were interrupted.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it’s not you, I’ve enjoyed meeting you, a lot actually, but I’m not in the habit of getting to know women like you. I don’t live the safest of lives and I don’t like to drag anyone into it, I’m sorry…”

And with that, he walked out the front door leaving you feeling cold and rejected.

As you walked back in you took a seat on the couch once again beside a very drunk Jin.

“You know,” he began holding up a single finger. “Yoongi is such a great guy…I have known him for so long.” He slurred.

“That’s nice Jin.” You said, not really wanting to talk anymore about Yoongi.

“He just got dealt a shitty hand you know, I doubt he ever wanted to be put in this situation, but if my dad was the head of some terrifying gang slash organisation slash whatever the fuck it is, I would put my head down and do whatever he asked as well.”

“Wait, what?” You asked, curiosity peaking.

“Yeah, I knew him from a class we took together a few years back, we were friends then, but he left college before the first year was out, I guess his dad didn’t approve, wanted him to stay in the family business, ya know? Such a bad situation for someone so intelligent, he had his whole life ahead of him…” He continued.

“You know he’s never even tried any drugs before? I guess when you grow up around that, you see enough to be put off…my heart aches for him sometimes…”

Jin was still talking but you could only hear bits and pieces, completely lost in your own thoughts.

*

The rest of the night was awful, you’d ended up leaving early, almost sober and mostly sad. You couldn’t believe what Jin had told you. 

You still were in shock at Yoongi’s words to you as well, maybe it was just genuine concern on his end…

But the point had been you wanted to get to know him. 

You tucked yourself in, not even bothering to remove anything but your shoes and fell into a deep but restless sleep.

*

Two weeks had passed since that party and for the most part, Yoongi was entirely out of your mind, I mean, after all, you had barely known the guy and you weren’t gonna let one silly drunken moment bring you down.

It was Jin’s party that was on your mind for tonight. Your rich friends usually had some crazy party once a week but you only attended when you could, and tonight it was gonna be a good one.

“So Jin do you want me to come over early with some booze? I can help set up.” You said over the phone to your friend.

“Yes, actually I would really appreciate that Y/N, it’s not like any of the other guys offer to help.” Jin said with a resigned sigh.

You let out a small laugh – “Cmon Jin, you’ve met them all, when would they ever offer to help for anything, lazy bastards.”

It was Jin’s turn to laugh this time, “You’re right I don’t know why I expect any more from them, I may have grown up rich Y/N but my parent’s made sure I knew how to respect those around me.”

You were nodding even though Jin couldn’t see, but he definitely was the most humble out of all the guys, he had been raised right.

“Shall we say seven? The party doesn’t kick off till nine but you can come help me set up and we can drink in peace for a bit before the madness ensues.

You chuckled, “Sure thing Jinnie! See you later!”

You could almost hear the eye roll over the phone before Jin hung up.

*

As you let yourself in – Jin had told you to do so – you took a second to appreciate the modern beauty of the house Jin lived in, it looked so bold and beautiful…very much like himself.

You tucked the bottle of vodka under your arm as you carried a bag of snacks in the other, you knew Jin didn’t need this, he was always more than prepared but you always felt strange showing up to his house empty-handed, maybe it was the fact he had done so much for you.

“Honey I’m home!” You yelled from the hallway hoping Jin would reply and give an indication of where he was in this gigantic house.

You didn’t get a reply. You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration heading for the kitchen so you could at least put the alcohol and snacks down.

However, as you neared the entrance for the kitchen the bag that was holding the snacks ripped, spilling all over the floor you groaned in frustration setting the bottle of vodka down, you got down on your knees and reminded yourself to stop asking for paper bags and just bring a tote with you.

“Fuck,” Was all you breathed out and you began picking things up.

As you started, a pair of hands joined the mission and you sighed in relief.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show your face, were you in there the whole time? You could have answered when I called, also-“ You stopped dead in your tracks as you looked up and realised it was not Jin’s eyes you were looking into.

They were Yoongi’s.

“Uh- oh my god, you don’t have to help I’m sorry, I’m an idiot I thought you were Jin, you know, I was thinking those were so not his hands but I carried on anyway I’m sorry again.” You were speaking from a place of sheer panic, you had no idea how to handle being this close to Yoongi, especially sober.

 Looking at him was an entirely new experience like you were seeing him for the first time all over again.

You were still scooping up the bags of snacks whilst Yoongi helped and as you stood up he stood up with you, his arms full now.

“I’m sorry-“

“You said that already, it’s fine, I’m not just gonna watch you struggle now am I?” He said with a slightest of smirks on his face. God, he really was beautiful.

As you both entered the kitchen you dumped the snacks in the corner of the counter. Of course Jin had an array of more expensive-looking stuff already laid out, but it kept your mind at ease knowing you hadn’t shown up empty-handed.

“Thank you for that.” You said, afraid to meet his gaze. “Why are you h-“ You cut yourself off, embarrassed you had even begun to ask that question, you knew why he was here.

“I mean- where’s Jin? Did he leave you here all alone?” You asked.

“He just had to run upstairs for a second, he should be down any minute,” Yoongi replied and you realised as he spoke he was checking you out.

His eyes skimmed over your body, quick enough that he wasn’t lingering but slow enough for you to notice. 

You weren’t wearing anything fancy although you had to admit you had chosen these jeans because you loved the way they hugged your curves and your camisole had some cleavage on display.. but nothing major.

“Ah okay…well… I guess I’ll get started in the living room. Jin likes me to set up the playlists and everything, he says he doesn’t like the responsibility of being judged by the party music being bad.” You said with a small laugh.

Yoongi just nodded, looking at you with that intense stare. The atmosphere tense, you wanted any excuse to leave the kitchen.

“Maybe one day we can play some of yours!” You said, remembering the small conversation you had with him.

To your surprise, Yoongi’s eyes widened. 

“You remember I said that?”

You nodded, “Of course, I know I wasn’t exactly a model for sobriety, but I wasn’t that bad!”

Then there it was. A smile. A genuine one with even a small laugh.

“Well, I guess you weren’t as bad as Jin.”

Like a scene from a movie, Jin walked into the kitchen right on cue, 

“When was I bad? Why are you two talking about me? Also last question, why was there a bottle of vodka on the floor?” Jin asked holding up the forgotten vodka bottle you had set down when the snacks had spilt.

You merely laughed as you walked on past him, grabbing the bottle from his hands and headed for the living room.

As you played about with the sound system you had regrettably took a few large swigs from the bottle of vodka, trying anything to ease the anxiety you got around Yoongi. It wasn’t a bad anxiety per se, he just made you feel things you weren’t used to, which in turn made you queasy. So you figured getting a little buzzed would help take the edge off. Admittedly drinking vodka raw wasn’t your style, but you didn’t want to interrupt whatever they had to talk about, so here you were.

As you fiddled about with the bass and everything – admittedly you hadn’t one clue what you were doing but it was killing time – you took out your phone to open up your trusty party playlist, always a winner in your book when it came to house parties when you were suddenly interrupted by Jin’s voice.

You nearly jumped out your skin at how close he was.

“Jesus christ Jin! You could've just called me from a distance there was no need to give me a heart attack!” You said, a little on edge. You knew why you were though.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, by any chance…have you got any cash on you?” Jin asked, “I’ve forgotten to take some out of the ATM.”

You nodded, “Yeah I have like 40 on me, is that enough?”

Jin chuckled, then grew serious. “Of course not, look I’m going to have to drive to the nearest ATM, will you keep Yoongi company, I think he likes you and I trust you to be the only one who won’t act strange around him.” 

God if only Jin knew what he was saying.

You gulped and looked up at him “Of course, but don’t be long.”

Jin simply nodded already making it for the front door.

“I should be back in 10!” He shouted from the hallway, not sure who to, maybe the both of you.

You took another big gulp of the vodka scrunching your face up at the way it burned down your throat.

As you decided the best thing was to turn back to the sound system you heard Yoongi clear his throat, letting you know he had come into the living room.

“Hi, sorry…I’m trying to figure this stupid thing out, I act like I know what I’m doing, but in reality, I’m clueless.” You said with a sheepish smile and burning cheeks.

Yoongi looked at you crouched on the floor and returned the smile, “Well maybe I can help…this is probably all I know how to do.”

He crouched down beside you and you felt the heat radiate off him with how close he was, sides almost touching he reached his hands out to the many buttons on the system. He definitely seemed to know what he was doing, you wondered if his fingers were as skilled in other areas…

You shook the idea from your mind trying not to look as flustered as you felt.

“I think that should do it…” Yoongi said, standing up. You stood up with him looking up at him. He wasn’t by any means tall, but compared to you he still had a few good inches.

“Are you gonna play something?” He asked.

You nodded, pulling out your phone and connecting it up to the speaker.

You hit shuffle on your playlist and nodded enthusiastically when the song came out sounding great just the right amount of bass and whatever else it was called.

“Thank you this sounds amazing, Jin will be impressed, as I am going to take sole credit for this.”

Yoongi pouted and you swore your heart skipped a beat. 

“What exactly do I get then?” He asked.

“Anything you want.” You stated, boldly. You knew the vodka was beginning to hit as only the drunker side of you would say something like that.

Yoongi’s entire demeanour darkened at your words, he was 100% picking up what you were putting down, he was looking at you like a damn meal and you honestly loved it.

He shifted back to his neutral expression clearly shaking himself out of whatever daze he had been.

“Maybe I’ll steal some snacks on my way out here.” He joked.

You couldn’t help but pout a little, slightly frustrated that he had changed the topic.

His words from the other night rang in your ears. 

He said he didn’t like to drag anyone into his life, considering it was dangerous; what he did for a living. 

You knew it was probably not the best thing in the world for you to want a drug dealer this bad, but he seriously held no qualities of one, he was just as normal as any other guy, well, except for the fact he was so hot he made your head spin.

But what if you didn’t really care about all that? Although in all honestly, it did scare you a little…but what if you wanted to risk getting to know him?

You were annoyed now, annoying yourself with your thoughts, your mood had soured fast.

“Yeah do whatever you want.” You said offhandedly, turning to walk back into the kitchen. 

He was following you, you could hear him behind you, but you refused to turn around, it was hard acting like you weren’t bothered though, considering you were.

When you finally made it to the kitchen you kept your back to him, setting cups out and trying your hardest to make it look like you were busy.

You heard Yoongi sigh. 

“Did I say something to hurt you?” He asked, but you could tell by his tone that he was on the defence as well.

“No.” You replied curtly, you knew what you were doing, you knew you were being a child but you couldn’t help yourself. You honestly embarrassed yourself trying to basically throw yourself at him but he shut you down every time.

You knew how to take a hint, you needed to leave whatever it was you two had alone, you didn’t want to do anything that would cause him to be uncomfortable, although he had definitely given you some hints that this wasn’t a one-sided thing.

“God, Jin’s taking a lot longer than he said he would, right?” He said. 

You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was grabbing at anything to make the situation less tense.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be back soon though.” Was all you could say.

As if on cue once again, your phone pinged in your back pocket, you pulled it out and saw it was Jin texting you.

7:47PM

Jinnie: i am stuck in traffic, tell yoongi i am sorry, will hopefully be another 15mins! :P

You put your phone back in your pocket and looked up at Yoongi finally, he was rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the ground, clearly distracted.

“That was Jin,” Yoongi lifted his head. “He said he’s stuck in traffic, going to be another 15 minutes, can you wait that long?” 

Yoongi took a second to think before nodding “Yeah I have time.”

You turned your back again, looking at how everything was set out you took another couple of minutes to reorganise and pour some more snacks out into bowls, you honestly didn’t know why Jin went through all this trouble but you weren’t gonna judge him.

As you went to start mixing a cocktail in a bowl, you heard a voice directly behind you.

“You need any help? I feel bad just sitting there.” 

You jumped a little and when you spun around you couldn’t believe how close he was to you.

You were silent, just looking at him for a second and he seemed to be doing the same thing.

“I think I’m oka-“ And just like that he cut you off mid-sentence, only instead of using words, it was his lips on yours.

He pulled away after a quick kiss, trying to gauge your reaction, you searched for any hint of doubt on his face and you think he was doing the same, when you saw none you pulled him in again for a kiss once again.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

Yoongi obliged – pushing you a little until your back hit the kitchen counter, pinning you between it and him.

He was kissing you slowly, and it was setting your whole body on fire, he brought his hands to your hips and you took that your cue to slip your tongue inside his mouth, he lightly sucked on it.

You moaned into his mouth, loving every sensation he was giving you.

Yoongi moaned back into your mouth, pushing his body close to yours.

He finally pulled away to catch his breath and you did the same, your head was in the clouds, it had been so long since someone had kissed you like that.

Yoongi spoke first, “I’m sorry about that – I know what I said to you the other night, but you have no idea how crazy you’re driving me.”

“Hmm.” Was all you could say, too dazed to think of a proper reply.

You don’t know who started kissing who again, but this time there was no mercy. You kissed each other so fervently and you even let out a small squeal of laughter when Yoongi lifted you up so you were perched on the counter, he moved in between your legs and you boldly wrapped them around his waist, pulling his as close as you could.

“Fuck, I – jesus –”  Yoongi muttered between kisses.

You shushed him, trying to encourage him to keep doing what he was doing.

You were both panting heavily, so hot and turned on it was sinful.

You had just begun kissing again, completely unaware of the passing of time, when the sound of the front door closing made you both jump.

Yoongi moved away from you and you jumped down from the counter, fixing your clothes and hair as quickly as you could, you prayed you didn’t look a hot mess as much as you felt it.

You looked over at Yoongi who had taken a seat at the kitchen island, you could see his chest still rising and falling and you couldn’t help but giggle a little.

He simply smirked at you and you really couldn’t keep it together as you heard Jin approaching you turned your back to try and make the cocktail you were about to start, you needed a distraction.

When Jin walked in, you heard Yoongi stand up. 

“Hey sorry Yoongi, traffic was crazy.” Jin began. 

“It’s fine man don’t worry about it, me and Y/N were just talking.” He said, as cool and as casual as if that what you both really had been doing.

You were pretty sure if you turned around your face was going to reveal everything Jin didn’t know.

You took a second to catch on what was going to happen and you made yourself scarce, running for the living room with a quick “Excuse me.”

As you sat on the sofa, you pulled out your phone to see you had a missed call for Taehyung, probably wanting to know when the best time was to show up.

You sent him a quick text instead of calling him back.

8:05PM

You: hey tae, party will probably start around 9ish? i think… i forgot to ask Jin actually x

You phoned pinged almost instantly 

8:06PM

Taehyung aka sexy mf ;): okay i’ll leave in an hour then, see u soon ! x

You sighed a little, you kept forgetting to change Taehyung’s contact name, he had taken your phone and made the change when you were at a party with him, you had laughed about it, you never made any effort to change it either.

“Hey.” You suddenly heard from behind you, farther away this time, it had you standing up and spinning around.

Yoongi was standing in the doorway.

“Hey yourself. Please don’t tell me you’re leaving.” You said, walking closer to him.

If you had it your way, he would be fucking you on this sofa right now.

You playfully tugged at his belt buckle, trying to pull him into the living room.

“Come say bye.” You said, looking up at him, eyes full of lust.

You leaned in to kiss him and he returned it, but only for a few seconds.

You never took your hands off his belt, keeping him securely in place.

“Listen, I have to go. I can’t stay, I told Jin I’d let myself out.” He said.

You audibly whined you were so horny you could’ve cried.

“Fuck, please don’t make that sound…I don’t think I can drive with a hard-on.”

You stomach flipped and your core throbbed all at once.

So he was taking it …there.

“Well, I could always help you out in that department you know…” You trailed off.

Yoongi took a deep breath and closed his eyes, clearly trying to compose himself.

“God, you are making me crazy, you know that?” He asked, you knew he wasn’t really looking for an answer but you shook your head anyway, trying to play coy.

“What if Jin saw us like this? I’m pretty sure he would kill me and then kill you.” 

You laughed at his statement.

“He wouldn’t kill me, he likes me too much.” You stated.

Yoongi scoffed a laugh.

“Okay that’s fair enough but I really do have to go, give me your number I’ll text you.” He said, taking his phone from his pocket. 

You called out your number and he saved the contact. 

You didn’t ask for his if he really wanted to text you he would.

You walked him to the front door. 

“I guess we can talk later? About what it is we’re actually doing?” You asked, hopeful.

Yoongi nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you soon.” 

And with that, he was gone.

***

A few hours had passed and the party was in full swing. You were nicely drunk and you were enjoying swaying back and forth as the music flooded your senses.

You had opted to take no heavy drugs, wanting to not be so blitzed incase Yoongi decided to text you before the night was out.

You were dancing when you felt a very familiar pair of hands snake around your waist.

“Has anyone ever told you how fucking great your ass looks in those jeans?” Taehyung whispered in your ear.

You shook your head no. “Well, I’m here to tell you, your ass looks fucking great in these jeans.”

As he started peppering kisses on your neck you pulled away from him.

“Not tonight Tae, I’m not in the mood.” You said you couldn’t, knowing you had only kissed Yoongi a few hours prior.

Taehyung raised his hands in defence, stepping back a little, one of his redeeming qualities – he actually listened.

“My bad, so who’s the guy?” He asked.

You made your way to the couch and he followed suit.

“What guy?” You asked.

“You never let me kiss you at parties if you have some guy on your mind, so who is he?” He asked again.

You shook your head, “There is no guy…” You knew you were a shitty liar, but what were you supposed to say?

Taehyung laughed. “Okay fine, if you don’t wanna talk about him yet I get it.”

You hit his shoulder playfully. “There is no guy jackass!”

“Okay, I believe you!” Taehyung said and if his tone of voice was anything to go by he definitely did not believe you. 

You scoffed, “I am going to pee.”

“Okay, I am going to find a new dance partner.” And with that, you both went your separate ways.

As you made you way up the stairs and found a bathroom, as soon as you closed the door your level of drunk really hit you, what was it about bathrooms that did that?

Enjoying the quiet for a second you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and saw that you had a message from an unknown number.

You let out a small noise of excitement.

11:37PM

Unknown: hey guess who?

You quickly saved his contact.

11:52PM

You: heyyyyyyyyyyyy i knwo who u are ;)

You got a little excited as you saw that he was replying immediately.

11:53PM

Yoongi: hahaahahah how drunk are you exactly?

You: Come to jins party and see,, im not that dru nk

Yoongi: What exactly would happen if I were to come?

You: i cant even pretend to play coy,,, i would suck your dick and beg you to fuck me :) 

You saw the dots rapidly disappearing and reappearing. You laughed out loud, he was clearly at a loss for words.

You wanted him to know you wanted him badly, you needed him to know.

11:56PM

Yoongi: fuckdkkck, that is so hot u are so hot, u know that whole time you had your back to me i was just satring at ur ass in those jeans,.,.,, also the  night we first met.. ur skirt had rid up and you were wearing that red thong..,fuck i couldve ruined u then and there..

You paused, remembering what had happened, you thought only Jin had seen that, but knowing Yoongi had seen it riled you up so much you thought you were going to explode.

You: yoongi please come here i am so horny pleasseeeeeeeee

Yoongi: fucl

Yoongi: fukc i want too but i cant im working im sorry

You left the bathroom, walking up more stairs heading for Jin’s room, you wanted some peace and quiet… and somewhere more private to sext…

Jin’s room was super off-limits at his parties, but you knew he wouldn’t mind you being there.

As you walked in, you kicked off your shoes and propped yourself up against the headboard, phone in hand you smiled as you typed your text.

12:01AM

You: god that sucks so much, i would loveee to pick up where we left off,,

Yoongi: i know :(

Boldly, you switched your phone to its camera. You shoved off your jeans and took a picture of your hand lingering at the waistband on your black laced underwear.

You hadn’t been lying when you said you were horny, you felt insatiable.

You sent the pic, biting your nail in apprehension, this was definitely a bold move for you, but you wanted to get him as frustrated as you felt.

As he took a little while to reply you started to panic, maybe you had been too hasty.

You phone pinged and you couldn’t unlock it fast enough.

12:05AM

Yoongi: are you kidding me right now? Where are you? fuck that is the hottest thing i have ever seen

You couldn’t help but move your hand under your underwear, running a finger down your slit you couldn’t believe how wet you were.

You: im in jins room… its off limits but i couldn’t help myself, if u could feel how wet i am…..

Yoongi: FUCK 

Yoongi: are u touching urself rn???

You: maybe……

Yoongi: jesus hold on.

You gasped slightly when your phone began to ring. Why was he calling you… was he mad?

You answered tentatively.

“Hello?” You said, confusion in your tone.

“Will you let me talk you through it?” Was all Yoongi asked. 

His voice sounding so deep and husky it only turned you on more.

“Talk me through what?” You asked innocently.

“The orgasm I want you to give yourself.”

Fuck.

“Yes.” You practically moaned, applying a little pressure to your clit out of the excitement alone.

“Take your panties off completely, spread your legs, get comfortable.” He ordered.

You did as he asked, panting heavily.

“Okay, how wet are you?” He asked.

“I am so fucking wet, can’t stop thinking about you kissing me.” You replied.

Yoongi cursed under his breath.

“Okay, put two fingers in then, put the phone on speaker, set it beside you.” You did as he asked. 

As you inserted your fingers you let out a little cry at the relief, you had been craving this all night, granted you wanted it to be Yoongi’s dick…

“Feels good.” Was all you could manage to say, closing your eyes tight.

“Okay fuck yourself slowly, rub your clit slowly as well.” 

You eyes nearly rolled into the back of your skull.

You moaned in pleasure, completely in awe of how he was talking to you, he was a fucking pro.

“Want your cock,” you said breathily. “Want your cock in me so fucking bad.”

Yoongi was breathing heavily on the other line. “Fuck fuck – I know I wish I was there so bad. I’d fucking wreck you.”

You only moaned louder at his dirty talk.

“Start moving your fingers faster, put a little more pressure on your clit for me.” He said, hardly able to keep his voice steady.

“Fuck! I think I’ll cum soon.” You said as you did what he asked.

“Hm so soon? God, you must be so fucking needy baby.”

You could only moan at his pet name for you.

You loved being called baby, god you wanted him.

“Keep going, I wanna hear you cum.” He spurred you on.

You were losing yourself. Your orgasm was coming on so quick you were chasing it.

“Y/N? Are you close?”

“Ah- fuck- yes! I’m so close.” You said it was really all you could manage.

“Cum for me, fucking let go, god you are so fucking hot, rub your clit, I bet it’s so swollen, just begging to be sucked on.”

Jesus christ you were going to explode.

You gave yourself a few hard quick strokes before you pulled your fingers out and focused solely on rubbing your clit until you came so hard you were seeing stars.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming so fucking hard – fuck!” 

You were silent for a minute, trying to come back down after your orgasm hitting you with such a force.

As you came back from your orgasm you had completely forgotten Yoongi was on the other end. 

“Y/N are you okay?” 

You grabbed the phone putting it against your ear.

“Yoongi jesus christ.” You said.

Yoongi chuckled on the other end.

“You just came so hard you were practically screaming. Let’s hope the party guests didn’t hear you.”

Oh fuck, you had completely forgotten where you were.

“I just came on Jin’s bed.” You said biting your lip.

“Yeah you did and it was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, I wish I had been there.”

You were visibly pouting even though he couldn’t even see you.

“Next time.” You said.

“Next time?” He repeated.

“Next time.” You confirmed.

“Fuck… listen I’ve got to go, I wish I could talk more, I don’t like doing that then just hanging up, but I’m really busy. I can call you tomorrow.”

You smiled at how genuinely sincere he sounded.

“It’s fine, we’ll talk to tomorrow. Bye Yoongi.” 

“Bye Y/N.” He said something else in his tone…you hoped it wasn’t regret.

And with that he hung up leaving you to clean yourself up and try and fix Jin’s bed, it wasn’t THAT bad, well maybe except for the small (not that small) wet patch.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 1

[Yeah it’s for real happening because I’m weak. So here it is. I’m basically going to write out my new recruited verse because I have lost control of my life.

Shoutout to @kiealer for a mention of her OC’s healer race and the HC we have that Vegeta and co demolished most of them. :3]

Nabooru

Traveling beyond the bounds of her desert home had always been limited. Within the desert, never ending sandstorm made venturing too far from known landmarks treacherous for fear of never returning or serving as a meal for the beasts lurking beneath the sands or in caverns. Beyond the eastern border lay greater Hyrule. Lush, green, thriving. 

To Nabooru, it always felt like she was stepping into an entirely different world and not simply because of the stark contrast of weather and scenery. In her younger years, the culture shock hit her harder than more recent years. Women didn't fight and served their husband's needs and desires. It was rare that they served in government, and it was almost taboo for them to talk about it. To have an opinion of matters deemed "too dirty" for the so-called fairer sex. Most resided in the home and only the men provided. They dressed modestly, and did not speak out of turn. None of which would have bothered Nabooru had the denizens not tried to hold Gerudo women to to same standards while traipsing through Castle Town or outside of the desert. The mostly matriarchal Gerudo, where women ruled and fought and drank and cursed. Where their sexuality was celebrated and not demonized (though many Hylian men and women alike had celebrated right along with them for at least one night of their lives until the sun rose and those same Gerudo became whores and heathens once more). Who cooked and cleaned and raised children. Gerudo women did everything Hylian women did and then some. 

If the lesson didn't stick with Nabooru the few times she ventured out with her best friend, Aveil, against her will, it certainly did when she joined Ganondorf at court. When she spoke among the other delegates of Hyrule's court, it wasn't uncommon for her to face chortling, eye rolling, or grimacing. Ganondorf could then repeat the same point moments later, word for word, and be met with at least some modicum of agreement or a proper debate.

And that only touched on the prejudice spurred by anger and fear Hyrule harbored toward her people. The Civil War may have ended in a peaceful treaty, one promising unity and safety, a new beginning. But none forgot how avidly and proudly the Gerudo fought for their sovereignty until their second to last breath. The skills and power of the demons from the desert.

None of that mattered for Nabooru any more. Hyrule was far behind, somewhere in the vast, new realm of space that she could never possibly fathom before she boarded a ship primed for traveling such an expansive place beyond the world and reality she understood. She could only guess what other planets might offer her in terms of terrain or people. What her new life as a soldier to a galactic emperor entailed. But beneath the inorganic lighting and in the midst of technological advances even the brightest on her home planet could not begin to dream up, she hadn't found much opportunity to ask while she struggled to process her surroundings. Stars and debris whizzing by windows as they passed them. The words her new commanders spoke amongst themselves. 

“Remind me your name?”

It took Nabooru several seconds to note the silence that had befallen her company, curiosity and shock holding her gaze transfixed to the door that slid open of its own accord to admit them. She tried to mask the hurried step she took over the threshold as well as she could, though her continued awestruck surveillance of her surroundings--the large screens along the walls displaying information, the flashing lights, the beeps and low, mechanical hums--displayed the mixture of her curiosity and apprehension of it all no matter the measures she took to downplay them. And, when she finally found the emperor and his generals again, their mixed bags of expressions confirmed her failure. Frieza stared at her with an increasingly amused smirk, his tail tapping against the side of his chair, one a parent gives a learning child. The wide, pink general with a layer of spikes on top of his otherwise bald head and forearms grunted, his expression squished in impatience. The taller of the two sporting a green braid and a tiara with matching earrings tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, yellow eyes half-lidded in either boredom or disbelief.

Nabooru straightened her posture, mind working overtime to replay the last few seconds and figure out what sort of answer they expected her to give to a question she hoped she heard. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and hoped the blush in her cheeks was less apparent than it felt when she came up short.

“I apologize,” she bowed her head, unsure of the proper etiquette, “did you ask me something? I’m...a little overwhelmed.”

“Yes, I suppose even just this ship is quite a marvel to you, isn’t it, coming from such a technologically barren planet as yours? It has been quite some time since we recruited someone from a planet like yours.” Nabooru released the breath she held and raised her head again, returning to her full height and her hands behind her back when Frieza didn’t berate her for her misstep. A small voice inside her whispered how it wished he hadn’t whisked her away from her home, but she tamped it down like a stubborn weed before the sentiment could reflect itself in her eyes. “You will get used to it soon enough. As for what I asked, I requested your name. I like to know what to call my more promising acquisitions.”

Another fight to keep her expression neutral, her pride festering at being referred to as some otherworldly trinket that caught his eye. She lowered her head again. “My name is Nabooru, my lord. I thank you for the opportunity to serve you.” 

Bitter words on her tongue. Subjugation didn’t suit her, but laying the act on thick felt like the right move with the emperor. The whispers of his other soldiers about his temperament swirled through her mind as a constant reminder to behave if she wanted to survive. A reality that would take some adjusting to, and, once more, a role she didn’t want to play. One given without the luxury of choice.

“Splendid. Then, let’s get straight to business then.” He raised a pitch-taloned hand and the taller of the generals stepped forward. “Once we arrive at the base, Zarbon will give you the tour and enumerate your daily schedule for the time being. He will also outfit you with a proper uniform.”

Nabooru glanced between the three of them, taking the time to note that they all sported similar attire, as had the soldiers who first landed on Hyrule. She still wore the clothes she left Hyrule in: her patterned bandeau and pink pants in the typical Gerudo style along with the jewels she adorned herself in. The chest piece looked like armor of some sort, and though she never cared much for it, it didn’t look entirely uncomfortable. She wasn’t worried about the look of it either, as there seemed to be different styles and perhaps she would get lucky with one that suited her taste and figure. What did bother her was that her attire was all that she had with her to remind her of her home, her past and people, due to the instruction to pack light if anything at all. She gripped the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder; the changes of clothes she brought along felt all the more irrelevant.

She nodded as a show of understanding, sensing that resistance or questioning of the regimen set out for her would only go ignored if she was lucky. When the three returned to their own conversations about the successes of a few planetary ventures, the prospects of others to be considered in the future, Nabooru used the rest of the flight to drink in whatever information she could from them and her surroundings. What she would be expected to do. How the technology surrounding her worked or what she would needed to understand for her own purposes. The personalities of the emperor and his most trusted generals. A difficult task when, perhaps purposefully, they kept their talk clinical and impersonal. Emotionless reactions to each report, whether good news or bad.

When the ship landed at the base, a large edifice that could pass for a castle on her home planet save for its plainness and more angular architecture, Zarbon led her away from the emperor and his fellow general, his boredom once more pervasive on his immaculate face. His tone of voice matched it as he pointed out areas of interest: the mess hall, showers and bathrooms (a mild concern to her when she only saw what she identified as male bodies entering or exiting them), and the expansive halls that held the soldiers’ quarters where she would sleep. He did not spend much time discussing any of them, their functions self-explanatory enough. So Nabooru hoped. The last thing she wanted was to find that, after a long day, her bed was some sort of complicated apparatus or had some fancy voice command that made it comfortable enough for rest.

The door to another room slid open and she followed. “This is where you will have your daily lessons considering your...under educated background,” he said, the hint of a sneer on his lips. “Mostly teaching you the basics you will need to operate the most rudimentary of our tech needed to do your job efficiently along with the expectations of your role in planetary trade.”

“Trading planets?” Nabooru couldn’t help how her eyes narrowed, the implications of such a business unpleasant at best in her mind. Not to mention what that could mean for her own home. Was their fate as secure as she thought? She hid her distaste by continuing to survey the room and commit its location to memory. It looked like a fairly ordinary, all purpose classroom. Another expansive screen replaced a chalkboard at the head of the room with a metal podium in front of it. Two rows of glass-topped desks faced the front of the room. It made her wonder if others would be joining her for her lessons.

Zarbon flipped his braid over his shoulder. “Yes. Our business is in finding planets to trade or sell and readying them for such transactions in most cases. Others are used for the empire’s purposes if they’re deemed worthwhile for some reason or another. Much like yours.”

Hyrule had been lucky, then. Avoided a likely more violent takeover, potentially thanks to her people’s warrior prowess. While she doubted Ganondorf and the rest of the Gerudo would be horribly merciful when they took over, she had a feeling they would spare far more than Frieza’s forces if the decision concerning their planet had swung the other way. She would have laughed at the irony of it had better circumstances been offered for amusement.

“I see…”

“You will learn more about that here. It isn’t my job to teach you such basics.” He moved to the door and Nabooru took her cue to follow. “You will be expected to report here first thing in the morning after the first meal and your lessons will last until the afternoon meal. The rest of your day will be spent training so you can get a better handle on your ki and utilizing it in the most efficient ways for your station.”

“I mean no disrespect and I understand the need for learning the other facets of my new job, but that sounds more up my alley than sitting in a classroom for several hours.”

“Of course. It is expected of you warrior types.” Nabooru could hear the eyeroll in his voice despite her position behind him. Along with the scrunch of his nose with his next scoffed statement: “Speaking of brainless imbeciles…”

Her curiosity outweighed the split second surge in her temper over the insult to her and her people along with whoever the general had spotted in front of him. She took a step to the side to peer around Zarbon as they continued down the corridor. Three men in the similar style of armor as the rest of the crew strode toward them, a shorter one flanked by two much larger figures, the sight reminiscent of her first exposure to Frieza and his generals. The two in the back--a bald one with a mustache and the second’s large stature the only thing keeping him from being swallowed by the mass of black spikes sprouting from the top of his head down to the top of his boots--appeared to be in high spirits, excitedly discussing their latest victories and sharing in each other’s laughter. The one in the middle paid them little mind, his dark gaze only shifting from its fixed, forward position to note the two of them approaching. His lips curled into a smirk.

“Well, well. Did Frieza let you off your leash for once?” He cast Nabooru a fleeting glance but little more. His hand rose to press a button on the side of the device fitted over his ear connected to red glass over his eye. The two behind him had stopped laughing and followed suit, exchanging a glance between them. “And for babysitting duty nonetheless. Is there a demotion in your future?”

“Remember your place, Vegeta, before I have to forcefully remind you of it,” Zarbon sniffed, his haughty air rivaling that of the shorter male. Any ounce of resentment she had sensed over the task meted out to him disappeared, replaced by what she could only describe as pride in his sense of duty to Frieza. Once more, Nabooru had to dampen the urge to, at the very least, snort at the display. “I do hope the report from your latest mission is better than the last. Frieza wasn’t particularly fond of the amount of near irreparable collateral damage you and your baboons caused in sacking it.”

“Hmpt.” Movement at Vegeta’s waist caught Nabooru’s eye. What she had mistaken for a furry belt turned out to be a tail, the end of which had loosed itself from its secure position for a moment before it tucked itself back into place. “Whatever. We got the job done when all your other units failed. It’s a sad day when Nappa here can figure out the secret of their healing abilities when none of your top picks could. How many fleets failed and crawled back to base with nothing to show for it? Three? Four?”

“It hardly matters when you can’t follow simple instructions. Two prisoners is hardly recompense for the damage. But unfortunately, your fates are not mine to decide.” Zarbon twisted around to nod to Nabooru. “Come. We’ve wasted enough time with filth.”

The two larger men stepped aside as Zarbon pushed onward, and Nabooru didn’t miss the fire in their supposed leader’s or their own eyes as she passed. The seething rage bubbling beneath the surface at such a dismissal. The kind she had grown used to on her home planet when dealing with Hyrule’s court. She bit the inside of her cheek to distract her from such empathy she couldn’t afford. While she didn’t trust Zarbon either, she had no real intent of making alliances here if she could help it. She worried enough about the welfare of her people whose fate could very well be tied to her own performance within Frieza’s ranks. Whatever the story of those three tailed warriors and the animosity they had toward Zarbon and he to them, it was of no importance to her. Squabbles between ranks and authority were bound to happen in a militaristic environment.

Another door slid open and the pair entered what Nabooru could only describe as a storage room. Arrays of what she assumed were weapons lined the walls alongside cabinets and displays for the armor she would soon don. She waited near the doorway while Zarbon considered each set. “You would do best to steer clear of those Saiyans if you want to avoid trouble. Or be successful.” He picked out a set and held the pile of clothing out to her. “Before you ask, yes, it will fit. All of it stretches to even the most extreme sizes.”

When Zarbon turned around, Nabooru took that as her cue to change into the new outfit. Setting her satchel on the floor, she picked through the garments to figure out the sequence with which she was meant to put them on before undressing. She started with what looked like the pieces that went beneath the armor: a long sleeved, high neck-lined top in a deep red several shades darker than her bright hair and a matching pair of bottoms cut to cover little more than her private areas. A single test revealed that they did stretch with incredibly little resistance and enough for her to slip them on with little trouble. Though far from what she was used to, the fabric was more breathable than expected and fit her like a second skin.

She picked up the armor next, the same cut as that she had seen on most of the other soldiers save for the wings on the shoulders and hips, and the chest portion looked more suited to a feminine form. It stretched just as easily as the singlet, and she pulled it on over her head, sliding her arms through the straps. Once more, even the armor seemed to mold to her shape without being too tight or restricting her movement. 

As she tugged on the last few pieces of her new uniform--thigh high socks of the same material as her singlet and a pair of white, leather gloves and boots much like those she noted the smaller Saiyan wore--she watched Zarbon shift to another storage unit and tap in a code. A drawer popped out and, when she informed him she was decent and he faced her again, he held one of the devices they all wore over an eye in his hand. This one with orange glass.

"This is your scouter. It scans power levels and acts as a communicator, among other useful functions you will be taught in your lessons." He handed it over, and Nabooru turned it over in her hands. "I'm sure you will find it useful."

“Power levels? Like how strong another person is?”

“Indeed. No need to worry about wearing it now, but do remember to take it to your lessons.” Zarbon swept past her and back to the door, and Nabooru didn’t need any coaxing to follow. She dropped the scouter into her bag along with the rest of her belongings and shouldered it before following him back into the hall. 

"We have one more stop, the medical bay," the general continued in that same bored tone, but Nabooru noted a flicker of what she assumed was excitement over the prospect of finishing the task so beneath him and returning to his proper duties. "Its use is what you would expect, of course. It is where we will part ways. You will have your translator chip installed. By the time you wake up, it will likely be dinner. After you'll have time to do as you please for now. Fill it how you wish."

She almost failed to register any other information that followed the first bit. "Translator chip?" She felt dumb asking so many seemingly obvious questions. "Installed how?"

"It is a simple and near painless procedure," he responded, his sigh just barely held back. "We all have them for ease of communication. The task of learning every language in the universe would be all too time consuming, and not everyone can speak the galactic standard."

Nabooru nodded despite the discomfort she felt over what sounded invasive and too foreign for her liking. The reason behind it made sense. She had taken the time to learn as much of the other languages of Hyrule as she could, and to describe the endeavor as time consuming put it lightly. Not to mention the imperfection of it. In the time she left her home, she had only gotten a taste of the vastness of the universe. If it took her years to get a grasp on just a handful of languages, it would take eons to manually learn all the languages of every race in the universe. Reasoning through it, deeming this chip useful, still did nothing to ease her apprehension.

The double doors to the medical bay slid to each side and admitted them into the sterilized space so unlike the healing ward back home. Several tanks lined the far wall, and more screens lined half of the one adjacent to it The doctors wore the similar armor the rest of them did, though the one who approached the pair from the rows of cots on the other end of the room wore a white robe of sorts beneath his armor. His bushy orange eyebrows and beak-like snout made him resemble a rotund, wingless bird.

The conversation he and Zarbon held between one another was clipped and short, all business and no filler about the reason for their visit--one the doctor had been made aware of and prepped for prior, he proudly noted--as well as a discussion over new recruits to the medical bay and their adjustment. From the sounds of it, they were the prisoners he had mentioned in the conversation with the Saiyans. She had to keep herself from snorting when the doctor discussed a certain reluctance to help; if she didn't fear her own rebelliousness would trickle down to the fate of her people, she might not be so compliant. Piecing together the brief tiff in the hallway with this information suggested they had little left to lose.

Zarbon turned to her once more. "This is where I take my leave. Keep to your schedule and don't cause trouble. Frieza may have chosen you specifically out of a gaggle of mediocre warriors, but that does not mean you're valuable."

With a toss of his head and one last pointed glare, the general left her alone with the doctor and a smoldering combination of helplessness and anger searing her heart and lungs. He wasn't wrong; that she had no reservations about. But hearing it, feeling it in the presence of these warriors, generals, and other help within the base, she could not deny her expandability. How her rank on her home planet meant nothing now, and she had been kicked from the top to the bottom, her life of hard work and pushing herself to fight better and harder than the next Gerudo, learn everything she could to improve her station, all she did to earn rank and respect among her people had been reduced to cinders here. She was starting over with no real idea where she was headed. Where she could head, if anywhere at all.

Survive. That's what she had been taught to do first and foremost. The costs of survival, of not endangering the deal made to ensure her people got the better life she always wanted for them, would have to be worth paying.

The doctor led her to one of the tables and instructed her to lie back, the cool metal on the few portions of skin left uncovered making her shiver. She listened for a moment to the explanation of the procedure--a gas to put her under, an incision behind the ear, and just a bit of prodding around in her brain--before she decided that her ignorance of it would keep her from bolting. He fitted a mask to her face and told her to simply breathe deep and count backward or recite some poetry. Nabooru hardly made it through a line of a Gerudo poem she did happen to memorize before the gas clouded her brain and muddled her words. Her eyes fluttered closed, the tension in her body eking out of her, her hands balled into tight relaxing as she succumbed to sleep.