#you are allowed to be angry at men for that

[kumezyzo]

pt. 1

Much to your dismay, it turned out that you weren’t acting completely irrationally by privating everything because the face of Luigi Mangione was suddenly being plastered all over the media.

“Woah… he kinda looks familiar…” You heard your coworker say a few days later. You felt like you were being watched. You tried to hide, even in the openness of the breakroom. “He looks like…” They were definitely looking at you now.

She called your name, suspicion dripping in her voice, “Who does this look like to you?” The reality was that she never actually met Luigi. She had only seen him through the few images you had chosen to share on social media.

You cleared your throat nervously, your mug empty as you walked over. You felt bile rise in the back of your throat as the love of your life stared at you from he back seat of a taxi. You had never seen that look in his eye before. Angry. Devoid of any affection.

“No… not really.”

His name was everywhere and soon, so were pictures of you. But, the police were the first to find you.

There was a knock on your front door one morning. It wasn’t too late, although much later than your corporate job would allow, that’s for sure. But nevertheless, you set down your coffee, hugging your cardigan to your body with the chill of early december.

When you opened the door, it was more than early December that rattled your bones. There were two men, serious scowls burnt into their faces. You instinctively closed closed the door slightly.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mrs… Mangione? We’re detectives…” The names were instantly lost in your mind. Being called a Missus was not something you had expected. “...With the NYPD. We have a few questions to ask regarding your husband,” The man on the left said.

You simply nodded, opening the door wider for them. You closed the door as you cleared your throat, “We… we haven’t actually gotten married yet.”

“Oh,” They shared a look as they sat on your couch. “His family told us otherwise. I’m sorry for the confusion.”

You shook your head with a polite smile, “It’s alright.” The following silence made you want to jump out of the window. “Would either of you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, that’s alright,” The other answered. “We just have a few questions. It won’t take long.”

You sat down with a nod.

“So, when was the last time you spoke to your fiancé?”

“I dunno, mid-september, maybe.”

“And you haven’t spoken or seen him since?”

“No, we had a disagreement and… I haven’t seen him since.”

“A disagreement?” The question itself felt like an insult.

You sighed, “Well, I guess it was more of an argument, really.”

“He disappeared after an argument?” That one twisted the knife.

You shrugged, unable to look at them when your mind was elsewhere. “We’ve never really argued before. I guess I didn’t know he would react like that.”

“Ma’am, we need you to tell us the truth.” Your eyes shot up, a chill no longer running through your veins.

“I am telling you the truth, sir.”

finna make a pt.3 already -nons

[treacheryinblue]

「 ON DISPLAY 」 noah sebastian ⨯ f!reader

▷ chapter two

noah is your neighbor and your new favorite view thanks to his lack of curtains. you're pretty sure he prefers it this way. but the man you've created in your imagination is nothing like reality and you soon find yourself falling prey to a past lifestyle you had been desperately on the run from. trigger warnings : language, eventual smut, violence, mention/flashbacks of abuse, alcohol and drug use, sexual harassment/assault (nongraphic). word count : 7.1k a / n : we're really setting the scene and the vibes with this one. more noah time will come in the next chapter, both in person and through the infamous window. do not fret.

masterlist

FLASHBACK - READER

“Why are you looking at her? Huh? You look at me.” 

The guttural tone of Vane’s voice that only reared its ugly head when he was angry made your skin crawl. It didn't matter that you were tucked away in his SUV because the response it coaxed from your body was nothing short of fearful. You had been on the receiving end of it many times before but not this time. No, this time it was one of his business friends, colleagues, whatever they were to be called. The man in question had been eying you from the open trunk of his own vehicle while showing the new merchandise to Vane. He obviously hadn’t been very subtle about it. This didn't stop your heart from racing nor did it prevent your palms from clamming up. You were still very much aware of what sort of hell Vane would rain down when pushed. 

“Why did you bring her along, Vane?” The man spoke through clenched teeth as if you were a threat. Between everyone currently present at this business exchange, you were the last one to worry about. You had no weapons. No phone. No way of tattling on any of these unsavory men even if you wanted to. Who would you tell anyway? The only person who had the means to protect you was your father and he was already in the know of your whereabouts. He and Vane had probably discussed it over a nice glass of bourbon earlier in the day. 

“Don't fucking question what I do. You got a problem? Just say so and we can handle it right here.” 

You heavily sighed at Vane’s overly dramatic show of dominance while leaning further back in the passenger seat. He was such a joke when he put in hours - always so over the top and a show off - and the one time you confessed this to him had landed you on the floor with a busted lip. Vodka made you mouthy and gave you a hefty set of balls apparently. That wasn't a mistake you made again. 

Vane may have been a son of a bitch but he was willing to act, typically before thinking. He didn't hesitate to reach for the gun tucked in the back of his pants, though he didn't pull it out. The shift of his arm was enough to set the man straight and return the conversation to what was important: Vane’s merchandise. 

“Pack this shit up,” he commanded after a few beats, his annoyance towards the man evident. The seller stammered over his words but Vane was quick to cut him off. “Stop your goddamn blabbering, Diego. I'm taking it but that look you stole of my girl is gonna cost you two grand off the price.” 

And there it was. The real reason why he dragged you along to these deals. Honestly, Vane wasn't very smart most of the time but he knew who he could shove around and who he needed to back down from. Diego was not the latter. Shit, you probably could've gone out there and gotten him to knock even more off the price just by flashing him a smile. You had no desire to get in the middle of Vane’s dealings, though, and he was also far too possessive to allow anyone beneath him to live if he caught them staring your way. He was a menace in a knock off suit. 

“Load it all up.” Vane further demanded while he was tossing his cigarette out and stomping his way back to the SUV you occupied. You forced a smile onto your face because you knew better than to let him see your true feelings towards all of this. Drugs. Weapons. All of it was a one way ticket to jail or possibly even the grave. Neither outcome was one you had any interest in living out. He made you an accomplice simply by having you witness the deals. Just another way to keep you under his thumb. 

As he slammed the car door, he immediately reached across the center console to roughly grab the back of your neck. Although the dig of his fingers was painful, you kept your expression neutral. His mouth was soon on yours, one hand squeezing your nape as the other firmly grasped your chin to keep you in his hold. Vane tasted like smoke and shitty beer – both of which you hated. Unfortunately, that didn't stop you from kissing him back. Not like you had any other choice. You really put on the performance of your life when you were with him. 

“I've got a good thing going here for you, baby,” he muttered against your swollen lips. “Don't fuck it up by getting that annoying self righteous look in your eyes.” 

Okay, maybe you weren't ready for your Oscar win just yet. 

PRESENT - NOAH

There was the lingering threat of cutting himself every time he fidgeted with his knife, the swift back and forth motion of opening and closing the blade making those around him nervous. That's what he enjoyed about it though – keeping people on edge. Noah couldn't even remember the last time he accidentally drew his own blood and the pain would be fleeting even if he did happen to nick himself. 

That wasn't stopping Jolly from shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It took a lot to make the boss squirm, but Noah sure was a pro at it. He attributed this to his years of practice in the field. 

“Everything is on time?” Jolly cleared his throat, his eyes shifting back and forth between the glint of the freshly sharpened blade and Noah’s relaxed face. 

“Aye, sir,” Noah mocked just as the knife clicked shut for a final time. “Truck hit the last checkpoint around midnight, so the shipment should be arriving within the hour.” 

No one knew that Jolly had recently taken over for his father. The older Karlsson made a point for the shift of power to be kept hush with only the inner circle being made aware. Everyone knew that a transitioning empire would have a moment of turmoil before everything went calm again, but they weren't currently in an area of peace where their empire in particular could handle the shakeup. If it wasn't for Jolly’s father being a little worse for wear, then they would've still had at least a decade to prepare for this. It was a good thing that Noah could remain calm amongst chaos. 

Jolly released a sound of irritation while shuffling the mouse of his computer to wake the screen. “Don't fucking call me ‘sir’,” he grumbled. His face was then illuminated in a wash of blue from the multiple feeds of their security cameras before a few additional clicks threw the images to the large television screen mounted on the wall. They both watched in a momentary silence, Jolly’s eyes shifting between each feed while Noah focused in on one specifically. 

You were balancing a tray of drinks, hips swaying in a natural motion before bending at the knees to pass a table of business men their order. Noah could tell that you were trying your best to smile but he had been watching you enough to know when it was genuine versus forced. He felt a pull to swoop down and rescue you from the hustle and bustle of the long Nocturnal nights but he had a job to do and being your knight in shining armor was not one of them. 

“Are the girls getting along better?” 

“In the Garden or in main?” 

“You know they're too preoccupied in the Garden to give a shit about petty drama.”

Noah did know this because there was rarely an issue with the dancers. The servers on the other hand…they were as catty as could be. He shrugged, his tattooed hands intertwining to tuck behind his head. “It's improving by the day.” 

“Are you sure about that?” 

Another click of the mouse and the squares of different security footage became only one – the feed that was directed at you. There was no audio but Noah didn't need sound to know that you were having a heated exchange with another waitress that he knew as Charlotte. Your jaw was clenched, grip tight on the edges of your serving tray that the bartender was currently filling with an order. Noah had to give you props for fulfilling your duties in a timely manner once the final drink was passed along with the bleach blonde still shrieking. 

Nevertheless, whatever the argument was about, it needed to end. Nocturnal was not going to become one of those clubs, not on his watch. He had helped build this place to what it was today and he would rather die than see its crumbled remains. 

Before Noah could get a word out, the scene that unfurled next played out in slow motion. You were unloading your tray when Charlotte walked by, her hip pointedly jutting into your backside to send not only your tray, but also the remaining drinks crashing down to the table. You fumbled from the impact in an attempt to right yourself but it was too late. You didn't stand a chance against the sneak attack. 

“Goddammit.” Noah groaned, Jolly exhaling one of his own in tandem. 

“Go fucking handle it! Bring them both up!” He hollered.

Noah wanted to argue that this immature nonsense was way beneath his pay grade but he wasn't going to pass up the chance of seeing you up close again. He was still trying to get the color of your eyes just right in his memory. 

READER 

Everything was soaked in a mixture of different alcohols. You, the table, the highly irritated men now hurling a combination of insults and complaints at you. You were frantically trying to clean things up by reaching for toppled over glasses and promising a drink on the house – if you could even do that – but nothing was helping with lessening their anger. 

“Fucking amateur.”

“Can't even serve a drink.”

“Shitty fucking help.”

There was a part of you that was plopped right back down to a year ago when everything you did was heavily critiqued by your ex boyfriend. He always had something to say about the way you held yourself, the foods you liked, your choice of makeup style. Nothing was ever to his standards unless he was the one to choose it. You fucking hated feeling like that helpless girl again, and by a group of strangers no less. 

“I'm so sorry, gentlemen!” you repeated again and again. “I must've slipped.”

You hadn't slipped. You had felt the way Charlotte shoved into you and if you didn't need this job then you would've been whacking her across the head with your now empty tray right this very second. The men continued to rant and you continued to ignore them for all of your sakes. 

Squatting down in the most ladylike way you could, you carried on with cleaning the area. Your hands were shaking, your nerves beginning to get the best of you. Anxiety had only recently become a problem for you and being the center of attention in this regard worsened the effects. You kept telling yourself to suck it up, that these guys weren't Vane, but your brain refused to follow through with the order. There was never a moment that you weren't expecting to look up and see his face staring back at you. 

A hand lightly touching your shoulder caused you to jump and nearly fall over to the now sticky floor. Thankfully you caught yourself at the last second. Your head whipped around, breath catching, just to see hot neighbor towering over you. Fuck. Your fight or flight had just almost kicked in. That really would've been embarrassing.  

“Boss would like a word.” He retracted his hand when he noticed the bewildered look in your eyes, a curious yet concerned gleam flashing within his own at the sight. 

“But, I - uh…I'm cleaning up –” 

“It'll be taken care of. Head for the back stairs and Shauna will show you to his office.” 

Slowly you stood back to your full height, nodding at his instructions. Your hands smoothed down over your skirt to straighten it out, followed by a slight tug at the hem as if that would help further cover the view of your legs from the angry men now narrowed in on you. 

“She looked better on her knees,” one of the men murmured to his pal at his side, both of them erupting into laughter. It was like you were up in VIP again with Marcus taunting you. Why were all men such assholes? 

You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from saying something you may regret. Choosing between your livelihood and your pride was difficult but you knew you would be no good to anyone, not even yourself, if you landed back on hard times. Taking in a deep breath, your eyes cut over to hot neighbor who now appeared to be rather…angry? The lights of Nocturnal encompassed him in red, but something told you that his skin would still be the same shade even under horrid fluorescent bulbs. 

“Now.” He demanded in a deep voice, his head nodding in the direction you were meant to go. The tone he used was frightening, this being more than enough to light the fire beneath your ass that had you quickly scampering across the club to the opposite side where the stairs sat. Just as he had said, Shauna was waiting at the base to guide you up. 

“What did you do to get King all in a tizzy?” Shauna laughed during your journey up the narrow staircase that would've been otherwise hidden had your new tour guide not been waiting. 

“I didn't do anything,” you shrugged. “Who is he, by the way? King?” 

A glance was taken back at you, the same amused expression you were used to seeing whenever you asked a question present across Shauna’s darkly painted lips. “He's the head of security…technically.”

“Technically?”

“He wears a lot of hats around here,” she sighed. “Security, second in command, amongst many other things, and now apparently a waitress wrangler.” 

The small jab made at your expense wasn't lost on you, but it was just one more thing you preferred to stay silent on. You were already stirring the pot a bit too much to have only been employed at Nocturnal for a week and you didn't need to further add to it. This must've been a new record since Shauna had mentioned in passing once that the turn over rate wasn't high. The workers loved it here, yet of course you were the only one having issues. 

Shauna’s pace slowed the further she led you down a dimly lit hallway. You had come to the conclusion that they didn't like light around here. Abruptly stopping in front of a door at the very end of the hallway, she turned to look at you, her eyes immediately sinking into yours. It appeared as if there was something she wanted to say by the way her lips faintly twitched, but she decidedly covered it with another smile. 

An arm extended off to the side to plant three firm knocks on the door, the sound of the lock electronically unlatching following seconds later. “Don't ask too many questions,” Shauna lowly added before she was sidestepping you and strutting back down the endless hallway, but only after she had twisted the doorknob and pushed the thick barrier open a couple of inches. 

X X X

You felt small standing in front of the boss. He was finely dressed in a black suit, a cross earring dangling from his ear, and his long hair secured back into a bun that sat low on his neck, while you were…well, you currently resembled a wet dog after having an entire tray of drinks find their way onto you. 

His face was emotionless as he stared at you, silently sizing you up, but you refused to be intimidated. So, you held his gaze despite the way your trembling fingers were anxiously fidgeting with each other. He must've noticed because he only chuckled and shook his head before releasing a deep breath you hadn't realized he had been holding. 

Well, fuck. Had that been some sort of test? 

“Genevieve…” he slowly spoke, sounding out each syllable to himself. 

“That's not my name. I mean, not really, that's just what I chose to go –”

A hand was lifted to motion for you to stop and his head turned in a single shake. “I know that's not your real name. Everyone here has a chosen alias. Some for fun and others for safety precautions. Doesn't matter to me what you choose to call yourself.”

There was an accent attached to his words, though it was one you couldn't quite place. 

“What does matter to me is how you choose to conduct yourself in my club. And what I saw tonight doesn't reflect too well on my business.” 

There wasn't yet a chance for you to defend yourself and tell your side of the story because the door opened and your conversation was immediately overtaken by Charlotte’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. You didn't miss the way the boss let a cringe briefly overtake his otherwise stoic demeanor. 

“I didn't even do anything! She was standing too far out and I accidentally ran into her! It's not my fault she likes to stick her ass out like some feral cat in heat!” 

King was right behind her, the same annoyed expression plastered across his own face. He didn't say a word as he crossed the office to take his place beside where the boss sat at his desk, leaving both you and Charlotte standing on trial before them. 

Your arms crossed over your chest to hug yourself, a chill setting in from all the different beverages soaking into your clothes. Maybe if you let Charlotte keep talking then she would dig her own grave deeper and deeper until there was no way for her to get out. She was already doing a pretty bang up job of it. At least that meant you could get out of there faster. 

Charlotte stepped up beside you with her hands on her hips, one leg extended out a bit further. As if on instinct you shifted a bit to your left, purposely placing a little more space between you and the loud blonde. When you looked up, hot neighbor was watching you, the same curious gleam in his eyes as it had been moments prior. It seemed as if he was always watching you, even when you weren't fully aware of it. You would never forget the way it felt to have his eyes raking across your skin whether it be from a security camera, in person, or from your open window. 

“What happened?” Boss asked, his fingertips lightly planting against the top of his desk. Charlotte immediately raced to recite a scenario you were sure wouldn't be the actual truth, but she was stopped within the first word by the boss holding his hand up to her. “Genevieve.” 

You looked back and forth between the two men watching you. You were expecting to feel uncomfortable beneath their gazes but the only thing bringing you discomfort in that moment was your wet bra. Maybe your naive brain wasn’t scared of them, your intuition telling you that they were not your enemy, or maybe you just hadn't yet clocked them as a source of fear. 

“I was serving my table and she purposely ran into me which caused me to drop my entire tray.” Simple. What more was there to be said on the matter? 

“What prompted the argument you two were seen having beforehand?” 

You could sense Charlotte tensing beside you, the toe of her shoe beginning to lightly tap against the floor in quick succession. She knew this was where she was going to go down for what happened because she couldn't explain it away as an “accident”. That is, if they believed you. Charlotte was a seasoned veteran at Nocturnal, whereas you had only just started. They were already more likely to take her side based on that alone. 

“She…um…she was accusing me of flirting with someone she was interested in.” Your eyes did a quick glance to King since he was the someone in question. “I wasn't, of course, because I've only had one conversation with the guy and she just…assumed.” 

Charlotte witnessed the little run in you had with hot neighbor on your first shift after he had escorted you down from VIP. She found joy in riling you up about it ever since during every one of your shifts, and typically you ignored her, but tonight you had been fed up and finally started trying to defend yourself head on. People, Charlotte specifically, thought you were weak merely because you were quiet. You wanted them to know that it was best not to underestimate you. You just knew how to pick your battles. 

“You made her drop her drinks because of a guy?” The boss was now looking at Charlotte. His tone read as calm but you could tell by the widening of his eyes and the way his hand flattened on the desk that he was growing more and more irritated by the second. “This isn't high school, Charlotte, so why are you acting like an immature child?” 

Charlotte opened her mouth to speak but King’s heavy sigh of boredom put a halt to her attempt. “We don't have time for this,” he exclaimed after taking a glance at his watch. Boss looked his way and hot neighbor raised his brows, both of them partaking in some sort of private silent conversation that you weren't privy to. 

“Your tips are paying for those lost drinks.” The boss concluded after a few beats. “As well as their replacement ones.” 

“What?! Nothing happens to her?!” Charlotte scoffed, her voice again piercing your ears and making you lean back a bit. 

“It's not up for debate! Now out! Get back to work!”  

You were quick to head for the door behind Charlotte, who was grumbling angrily to herself, despite having an eerie feeling that the blonde was going to make the rest of your shift a living hell. Maybe even all of your shifts for the foreseeable future. You had one foot out the door when a hand secured around your bicep, firmly stopping your motions forward. “Not you,” his low voice sounded in your ear, a chill immediately radiating down your spine. 

King was gentle as he pulled you back a step and used his free hand to close the door. He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning your hair and making it tickle your neck. The slightest tilt backwards and you knew his chest would connect with your back, and honestly, you were very tempted to do just that. You had been imagining the way his body would feel against yours for over a month at this point, never once thinking it would actually come to fruition, but now here you were. The only reason why you resisted was because you weren't alone in the room and you didn't need your boss witnessing you becoming a complete puddle for his right hand man. 

“Jolly just wants a few more minutes of your time.”

X X X 

King. Jolly. You felt like you were in some dark fucked up version of Candyland with those names, but instead of the Lollipop Woods and princesses, it was nothing but tattooed men and their load of secrets. Not nearly as tasty as the candy would've been. Well, at least not until you'd become knowledgeable of these secrets. 

You strolled into your apartment a little after 2am, your new boss - Jolly - allowing you to leave early since the entirety of the last bit of your visit with him had consisted of you sitting in front of his desk and shivering. King passed you a Nocturnal t-shirt at some point in an attempt to help warm you but it didn't do nearly as much as either of you were hoping. You swore you saw him briefly contemplating giving you the jacket he wore, though he did a quick glance at Jolly before ultimately deciding against it. You couldn't say you blamed him. 

The quiet of your apartment was welcoming, this finally giving you a chance to hear your own thoughts and actually process the night. Jolly merely wanted to chat with you, your new hire file laid out in front of him, since he hadn't been given the chance to formally introduce himself as he usually would when new employees began. He explained that his father had been the original owner of Nocturnal but he now did the majority of all the work that went along with the club since his dad had his hand in other things. You politely smiled and nodded, unsure as to why he was choosing to tell you this. All in all, he was nice. There was a kindness to him that wasn’t overtly obvious but you could sense it. 

Hot neighbor only spoke up a few times, instead opting to remain seated back in the dark corner with his feet propped up versus at Jolly’s side. This probably meant that you weren't deemed as a threat. He held the same knife from VIP the entire time, and you knew this because the blade would occasionally catch the light and shine on you. Each time it would and you'd glance his way, he would greet you with a barely-there sideways smirk. Fifteen minutes later, he was looking at his phone and then springing to his feet with a reminder to Jolly that they had a shipment to receive. And that was that. End of meeting. 

It was all so normal, the interaction, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. What? You had no idea. 

After your entirely too long and too hot shower, you took solace in front of your open window. His was open as well, as it always was, but there were no signs of movement. This wasn't unusual since you knew he had business to tend to when you left, though you were still curious as to how late he was usually at the club. Was that where he always was when he wasn't home? That's what you were going to tell yourself was true. 

You remained awake for an hour longer, occasionally glancing at his window, but everything remained still. 

X X X 

“Come out with us! Pleaseeeee! Please please!” Mel begged via FaceTime, a dramatic pout pulling at her lips. You could see the usual crowd behind her as she walked down the street, the group headed towards their normal haunt for a few drinks before eventually finding a club. It was the same weekend routine every time. Normally you would attend but you weren't feeling it that night. It was your first day off, as well as night, in awhile, so you were going to take some much needed alone time. 

Your nose scrunched and you shook your head at the phone camera. “I'm really just not feeling up to it,” you explained in a playful whiny voice of your own. “The club has been kicking my ass and I have to be at Red’s bright and early tomorrow.”

“Ugh! Just tell me you're actually having a steamy affair with hot neighbor! Tell me you're going to his place to let him absolutely ravish you!” 

“Yeah, that's totally what's happening,” you joked. “He's getting the whips and ropes ready for me right now.” 

This was even funnier to you because you hadn't yet revealed to Mel that you worked with hot neighbor now. There was no real reason for keeping it from her. Just that it tended to slip your mind when the two of you were around each other. 

“That sounds so sexy! The fuck!” Your best friend squealed, the loud noise causing you to pull the phone back a bit. 

“Okay, you go enjoy yourself! I promise I'll come next time.” 

“Fineee! Love you!” 

The FaceTime call ended with Melinda then laughing at something someone around her said before it all went dark. You sighed softly to yourself, your gaze remaining on the blank screen for a long moment. You were tempted to say ‘fuck it’ and go out but the exhaustion was really starting to hit. You would be no fun. 

As the silence set in, that's when you found yourself wondering about King. All day you had managed to avoid looking at his window because you weren't going to let this random guy be a defining moment in your life. Plus, he was your boss. Kind of. Second in command definitely made him your boss in a way, right? But now that the sun was setting and your loneliness was creeping in, you couldn't stop yourself from glancing over. 

A big part of you was hoping he wouldn't be there. After all, it was the weekend. Okay, it was Sunday, but you knew that was still a busy day for clubs when it came to the city. Nevertheless, you couldn't get involved with him. It wasn't smart for so many reasons and you were really working on trying to be smarter these days. Why did that have to be so hard? 

Taking in a breath, your eyes danced along the other windows of different apartments before ultimately landing on his. No curtains still - go figure - but the space wasn't empty as it had been the night before. There he sat, drink in hand, his focus on the large screen television mounted on his wall. You could barely make out the images but you did know it was some sort of cartoon. Your chin propped comfortably in your hand the further you sat up until you were on your knees leaning over the back. Very similar to how you were positioned the first time you saw him. 

The only difference was that now you didn't care if you got caught watching him. 

When he didn't look your way within the first few seconds, you shifted your focus to the darkening sky. Deep pinks and oranges swirled around, fading into the blue that would soon fully overtake the sky. You couldn't see too much because of the position of the apartment building, but it would have to do for now. You could remember staring at the sky for hours on end in your previous life. It was all you could do when Vane was working and you had no choice but to tag along. You weren't allowed to have a phone to keep you entertained back then. Not even just to play Candy Crush or some nonsense like that. Look at you now, still staring at the same sky, thinking the same wonder-filled thoughts. Old habits truly did die hard. 

It was the slight motion in the corner of your eye that brought you back down to the present. King was looking at you, his hand waving to help draw your attention. When he noticed you looking he offered a friendly smile, one you returned without hesitation. The fact that he seemed much nicer outside of the club confused you, but you were going to continue to believe that he was wearing a mask at Nocturnal. You at least hoped that was the mask and this version of him wasn't. Not that you cared…since you were being smarter and all that…

King raised his hand to his head, his fingers shifting so that his thumb was at his ear and his pinky at his mouth. The universal symbol for ‘phone’. Was he asking for your number? Your brows furrowed slightly, your thoughts running rampant. This was not something you had seen coming. At least he was asking instead of simply taking it from your file, though. 

Nodding, you brushed your hair away from your shoulder to ready yourself for the task of using your hands to communicate your phone number. You slowly tossed up each number, hot neighbor looking from you to his phone every time until he had all the information he needed. Seconds later, your phone vibrated, a message from an unknown number popping up. You immediately saved it under ‘hot neighbor', naturally. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: Hello, neighbor. 

You arched an eyebrow at the simple greeting, your eyes briefly glancing back up to where he still stood across the walkway. He was looking at you, phone in hand, patiently waiting for your response. 

YOU: Caught you staring. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: I decided to take a play from your book. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: Seems like it worked. 

You couldn't fight the smile that spread across your lips. Your teeth sunk down into the lower tier while you simultaneously shifted so you were sitting down on your couch again. Your back to the window to keep the view of your face hidden. The last thing you needed was hot neighbor seeing you smile as you made the mistake of getting closer to him. 

YOU: Are you watching cartoons? 

HOT NEIGHBOR: I'm an adult, Genevieve. It's anime. 

The use of your work name made your lips twist in distaste. You were already pretending to be a different person in your day to day life. You didn't need to mix things up even more with the addition of your Nocturnal alias. Something about it just didn't sit right with you. 

YOU: You can call me by my actual name when we're not at work. 

Funny, since even that also wasn't your actual name.

HOT NEIGHBOR: I guess that means I should extend the same courtesy to you. 

YOU: Is King not your name? 

HOT NEIGHBOR: It's a nickname from when Jolly and I were younger. 

The gray typing bubbles continued to pop up and disappear, as if he was unsure of what to say. You watched them do the same dance a few times, your curiosity rising by the second. What could he possibly be typing? 

HOT NEIGHBOR: My name is Noah. 

X X X

Three hours. That's how long you spent texting with Noah the previous night and you were definitely feeling it. Two Red Bulls, a cup of black coffee, and a couple of pieces of some weird energy gum Mel had told you about wasn't even enough to keep you from yawning every few minutes. Yes, you were exhausted, but you didn't regret a minute of it. Maybe you would one day when you were forced to remember why getting close to people was a bad idea, but you were going to live in ignorant bliss until then. 

“I told you not to run yourself into the ground.” Red wagged his finger at you like a stereotypical grandfather would. “It was going to come back and bite you in the ass.” 

You laughed, shaking your head at him. You continued to go through the motions of folding his linens as he hobbled into the room with the help of his solid wooden cane. Red was a kind man, at least from what you could tell. He enjoyed reciting stories to you from his heyday and introducing you to new foods that his personal chef would whip up. You disliked a lot of them because of how picky you were but Red got a kick out of listening to your outlandish comparisons. 

“I know, I know,” you heavily sighed. “I was off from the club yesterday, but I still stayed up too late.” 

Red released a breath as he lowered himself down into his favorite sitting chair. His eyes remained on you, a knowing smile occupying his lived-in face. “You're too young to get caught up in the headache of boys. Or girls. Or whoever you're interested in. You need to live a little first.”

You both laughed as you set the neatly folded sheets aside and began working on the basket of towels. If only Red knew that you had ‘lived’ enough for multiple lifetimes. None of which you had any desire to relive. So why were you going down the same path with Noah? Of course you didn't want to believe that's what was happening because it felt so good in the beginning stages like this, but you knew better than anyone how it could abruptly turn and crash. You had the scars to prove it. 

“I'm not getting caught up. I promise. I'm just…making friends.”

“Friends,” Red snorted. “That's how I ended up with five kids, by making friends.” 

“Red!” You lightly smacked his arm with the towel in your grasp, your lighthearted laughter continuing. It felt good to be able to have a relaxing conversation like this, even if it was with an older man pushing eighty. In your opinion this only meant he was better at giving advice than anyone else in your life. 

Still grinning, he reached for the remote on the side table by his chair and turned the TV on. Before you knew it, a CSI rerun was on and Red was leaned back, lightly snoring. 

X X X 

HOT NEIGHBOR: What are you doing? 

You used one hand to retrieve your phone from your back pocket as the other placed a small pile of washcloths in the hall linen closet. Your heart began to race when you saw who the message was from, cheeks instantly reddening. Well…fuck. That wasn't a good sign for your mental well being. 

YOU: Folding an old man’s laundry at my day job. Yes, it's just as exciting as it sounds. 

HOT NEIGHBOR: Drop a pin and I'll bring you coffee. 

You had to give it to him, he surely was straight to the point. You did as he said because what harm could come from a quick coffee visit? Plus, you desperately needed more caffeine. You would take an IV of it straight into the vein if it was offered to you. 

Half an hour later you received a message from Noah saying that he was outside. You took a glance at Red’s still sleeping form as you tip toed out of the house, carefully maneuvering your way down the narrow stone path that led to a small black wrought iron gate. It was only waist high, but it was a nice little touch in front of his city mansion. Typically flowers would be lining the path as well, but the frigid air kept them at bay for now. 

Arms crossed over your chest, your eyes zeroed in on Noah who was standing on the sidewalk. He was once again wearing his usual black on black attire, black gloves, and a black coat to finish off the look. How was he so effortlessly attractive? You could assume he was heading for the club based on his outfit alone. Not only that, but he appeared perplexed. His brows were furrowed, his eyes constantly looking up and down the sidewalk like he was on the search for someone. 

“Hey,” you breathed out into the cold as you stepped closer after latching the small gate behind you. Noah extended the second coffee to you which you graciously took and immediately sipped from. You didn't even want to know how he knew your coffee order. Sure, it was simple, but how did he get it so perfect? 

“This is where you work?” He motioned to the large brick building behind you. You glanced back at the house along with him, nodding. 

“Yeah, it's pretty easy. I'm basically a glorified errand runner slash housekeeper.” 

Noah slowly nodded, though his puzzled look refused to break. You weren't at the point yet where you could call him out for it, at least not in the way you would've wanted by just being straight forward. 

“Everything okay?” You eventually asked, to which Noah relaxed his shoulders and smiled at you. 

“Sorry, yeah. I was just remembering something I needed to do at the club.” 

“Oh, okay. Well, how much do I owe you for the coffee?” 

“What? No, you don't owe me anything.” He was now peering at you as if you had two heads. “Consider it an apology for keeping you up so late.” 

“No apology needed.” You wanted to tell Noah that you actually enjoyed talking to him. He made you feel comfortable, as odd as that may have sounded since he was still practically a stranger. But you didn't. You skirted the topic completely. “Did you want to come inside? I didn't mean to leave you standing out here in the cold.” 

“I've really got to get to the club. I just wanted to see you for a minute”. 

“Well…you've seen me.” You laughed, your hip dipping a bit and your free hand motioning towards yourself. Fuck, that was so lame. Hopefully it wasn't too obvious to him that you were completely out of your comfort zone. You weren't good at this sort of thing. You couldn't even remember the last time you had tried genuinely flirting with someone. 

Noah's dark eyes focused on yours, his look intense. You felt bared beneath his gaze, vulnerable, but something about it kept you hanging on. 

“That I have.” 

NOAH

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He tried not to seem too flustered as he said his goodbyes to you and headed down the street. The further he walked from your eyesight, the faster his steps became. Noah hated leaving you like that because he could sense your confusion but it was for the best. There was no telling who within that house was watching you with him and he didn't want to put your well being in danger anymore than he probably already had. 

As he turned the corner, he quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Jolly. It only took two rings for him to pick up because Jolly knew better than anyone that he didn't call people. He actually despised talking on the phone. He would only do it for Jolly and now maybe you too, if that's what you wanted. 

“We have a problem,” he breathed out the moment the call connected. Dark eyes continued to dart about, every nerve in his body on edge. 

“What kind of problem?” 

“Our lovely little Genevieve is working for the enemy.” 

There was a long moment of silence and then Jolly sighed. “Which enemy?” 

“The worst one.” Noah didn't need to give any further explanation. His best friend knew how hard it was for him to think about the past, let alone talk about it. After all, it wasn't everyday he was plunged back into the memories of the night his parents were killed. 

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[bktempted]

Attention whore. Your outfit - a crop top cut a little too low, a short skirt cut a little too high. Still, you played the part of the sweet, innocent girl perfectly. Batting your lashes and smiling shyly whenever a man's gaze lingered on your exposed body a little too long.

You loved the power it gave you, the way you could make grown men stumble over themselves with just a look. It was thrilling to imagine them touching you, fucking you, as you pranced around acting all naive.

Little did you know, I was watching you too, seething with jealousy. I saw the way those strangers looked at you, the way their eyes devoured your body. But I stayed silent, biding my time until we were alone together again.

Later that evening, you found yourself pinned against the bedroom wall, your wrists bound above your head. My eyes blazed with anger as I ripped off your skimpy clothes, leaving you bare and vulnerable.

"Do you have any idea how many men wanted to fuck you today?" I growled, grinding my rock-hard cock against your thigh. "How angry I was knowing they were all thinking about bending you over and pounding into this tight little cunt?"

I forced your legs apart, spreading you wide as I loomed over you. "You're nothing but a filthy tease, aren't you? For them anyway, but for me…”

My fingers delved between your slick folds, rubbing your swollen clit cruelly. "So wet already, you love having all those men drooling over you, don't you? They wish they could do this."

I slipped two fingers inside your dripping pussy, curling them just right to hit that sensitive spot deep within. "Moan for me, slut. Let me hear how much you enjoy being a cock-hungry whore."

Tears streamed down your face as I finger-fucked you mercilessly, edging you right to the brink before pulling away. "Please, I'm sorry!" you sobbed, bucking your hips desperately against my hand. "I promise I won't do it again!"

I just laughed, spitting on your puffy, needy cunt. "Oh, I bet you will. You crave the attention, the filthy looks from those perverts. You're addicted to being treated like a cheap whore."

I pushed three fingers inside you this time, pounding into your sopping wet hole as my thumb rubbed firm circles on your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, cum for me. Cum like the desperate slut you are."

You screamed as I finally let you find release, your pussy clamping down hard on my fingers as you shook and spasmed with pleasure.

But I wasn't done with you yet. I pulled my fingers out, bringing them to my lips and sucking your juices off slowly. "I think I need a better taste."

I hauled you over to the bed, bending you over and spreading your ass wide. My thick cock pressed against your entrance, the swollen head nudging your sensitive folds.

"Beg for it," I commanded, giving your pussy a harsh slap that echoed through the room. "Beg Daddy to split your slutty little cunt open on his fat cock."

You whimpered and pleaded, “Fuck me! Fuck me, please! I promise I’ll be good! Fuck my until I’m good!” babbling in a lust filled haze.

With a vicious thrust, I buried myself balls deep inside you, groaning at how tight and warm you felt. I set a brutal pace, pounding into you relentlessly as you bounced on my cock. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

I reached around to roughly palm your tits, tweaking your nipples between my fingers. "Who do you belong to, slut? Who's the only one allowed to use your dirty holes?"

"You Daddy, only you!" you cried out, your pussy clenching around my shaft.

Knowing you were mine, I fucked you with renewed vigor, determined to ruin you for anyone else. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, until finally I felt your cunt clamp down around me.

I bottomed out in you one last time, emptying my cum deep inside your spasming hole. I collapsed on top of you, both of us panting hard.

But even then, I knew it was only a matter of time before you slipped back into that tiny skirt and paraded yourself around town again. After all, being punished by Daddy was what this was all for.

[hunterofartemis7]

After Odysseus left for war, Penelope kept all his clothes, capes, jewelry etc tucked safely away in the closet for when he returned. She allowed no one touch them, not even herself really, that was until Telemachus found them. She left Telemachus alone with one of the maid, who was Athena in disguise, while she went to handle queen stuff. She came back a few hours later to find her son hiding under one of his fathers capes, and wearing one of his tops that was way to big for the baby. The young princess also somehow managed to get a hold of his father’s jewelry which he was both wearing, and trying to eat.

Penelope was of course confused as to how her infant son even got into a locked closet until she saw Athena trying not to laugh her head off.

“I’m sorry,” the goddess laughed, “he kept trying to get in the closet and I can’t say no to his little wolf eyes.”

Penelope wanted to be angry at her husbands mentor, but couldn’t when she saw how cute her son looked. She smiled and picked him up off the floor. “You’ll grow into them someday my son.”

“I can make small version of Odysseus clothes for Telemachus if you want. Just until he grows into them.” Athena offered, picking some of the random clothes off the floor.

“You just want an excuse to make my son small outfits.”

“Guilty.” The goddess smiled. “But I’m not hearing a no.”

The queen submitted and agreed to let Athena make smaller versions of her husband clothes for her son. She can’t say she didn’t hate it. Penelope liked seeing Telemachus crawling around like a small copy of Odysseus. As years went on, Athena continued to do this for Telemachus, while occasionally clipping a piece of Odysseus jewelry to his shirt or cape. Penelope loved seeing how exited Telemachus would get when his grandmother or aunt said he looked just like his father. He’d run around the place pretending to fight a boar like his father, getting a laugh out of the guards who saw him. Telemachus even convinced his mom to cut his hair like his father for a while. But as 10 years turns to 15, to 20, Telemachus had actually grown into Odysseus clothes and had no reason to have copies made anymore. He did it to feel closer to his father, and hoped he wouldn’t be mad when he came home. The suitors were the first to make a bad comment about it. They teased him from wanting to look like a knock off Odysseus, or for dressing like the man who abandoned him.

One real bad experience with Antonius made him want to stop wearing them all together, but Athena encouraged him to ignore what those other men were saying and wear them anyway. He was honoring his father by wearing the clothes. So he kept at it. When Odysseus was finally home, he didn’t immediately notice his son was wearing his clothes, just that his armor resembled Athena. Actually he barely noticed that until late at night once everyone was asleep and he was replaying the memories in his head. It wasn’t till the next morning after he had taken a bath that Odysseus went to his closet and found all his old clothes had disappeared, minus a few that were to big for him.

“Hey Penelope, did you hide my clothes somewhere?” He asked “I mean I don’t mind walking around nude in front of you, but I’d rather not traumatize our son.”

Penelope had a good idea where they were, but was gonna let her husband figure it out. “No, I always kept them in there.”

“Huh.” Odysseus there confused for a moment before grabbing one of the oversized garments from the his wardrobe. “Well this’ll work for now till I figure this out.”

Penelope held back from laughing, “this is going to be a fun morning.” She thought to herself.

“Well if you’re ready, we should head down to breakfast.” Penelope held her hand out for her husband. “Don’t want to miss your first real meal with your son.”

Meanwhile, Telemachus was getting ready in his chamber. He had snatched on of his father garments, jewelry, belt and sword holster. He’d already be out the door if Athena, (who had been staying with the royal family since his diplomatic mission) would quit fussing with his hair. “Athena knock it off!” He groaned trying to pull his head away.

“Once I get it out of your face I will, now hold still!” She snapped, making him face forward.

“Did you do this to dad?”

“When we were training yes.” She answered, cutting Telemachus hair out of his face. “Until he learned to put it up himself.”

“Okay okay okay!” He got up and shook the hair off him.

“Why do I even try?” Athena signed setting the scissors down. “You should head out now. Your parents are probably waiting for you.”

“Aren’t you coming?” He asked her.

Athena shook her head, “go on ahead without me, I’ll be there in a minute.”

The young prince nodded and ran out to the dining room to meet up with his parents. He ran in there and plopped down beside Odysseus, who had just figured out where all his clothes had gone. “Morning father!” He said brightly.

“Morning.” Odysseus replied looking at his son’s clothes. Penelope was across from Telemachus, trying not to laugh at her husband who was trying to find the right words to address this. Telemachus noticed both the strange smiles on his parents faces and got confused. “What?” He asked.

“Nothing. Just surprised my old wardrobe fits you.”

Telemachus was a bit confused by the comments until he remembered that he was in fact wearing his father’s clothes. The boys face turned bright red with embarrassment and he practically shot out of his seat, apologizing over and over again to his father and saying his go change. Odysseus grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat.

“My son you have no reason to apologize.” The old king said patting his son on the back. “Im glad to see you have my same taste in style.” Telemachus buried his face in his hands at his father’s teasing.

“He actually started wearing them to be closer to you.” Penelope told her husband whose face lit up in awe.

“Awwwww really?” Odysseus beamed, putting an arm around his son. “That’s really sweet my boy.” Telemachus buried his head in his father’s hair, his face beat red with embarrassment. It didn’t help when Odyssues made the comment about needing a whole new wardrobe since it seemed a little owl had nicked his. “So is this a new thing or?” Odyssues began to ask.

“No, he’s done this since you left for Troy.” His wife answered, which surprised Odysseus.

“Really?” The king asked, “that long?”

“Yeah. He managed to get a few of your things from your closet, well, Athena unlocked it and let him go nuts.” The Queen explained. “And both her and I made smaller versions of your closet until he grew into your normal ones.”

“Ofc Athena had an hand in this.” Odysseus thought to himself. “Please tell me you kept those, cause I would love to see them.”

“Ofc I did.” She smiled.

“Yes!” Odysseus cheered.

Penelope smiled at her boys. Odysseus who was very excited and Telemachus who was an embarrassed mess. “You two are so cute.”

@platinumink

[boymanmaletheshequel]

Some subtle ways to worship Artemis 🦌🏹

- Be kind to and respectful of women.

- be kind to your siblings or sibling

- be kind to your mother

- support woman’s rights and feminist movements

- be protective of women in situations where they may be taken advantage of (bars, clubs, etc.)

- do not be creepy or perverse to women (or men for that matter) unsolicitedly

- Honor your body and be discerning of who you allow to have sex with you

- be kind to children

- say hello to and be respectful to deer and other common native fauna

- keep a houseplant (or in my case 147 of them)

- enjoy the moonlight

- embrace righteous anger and indignation

- go for a walk in the woods

- watch the hunger games (movies about a strong female protagonist who hunts and kills with a bow and arrow, loves children, fights for justice, and gets very animalistically angry, very Artemis coded)

- forage for wild foods if you can

- embrace your feminine aspects

- wear a piece of moonstone, Amazonite, or emerald jewelry in her honor

- don’t support animal cruelty

- buy meat from local farmers or hunters who use ethical and sustainable hunting practices (if you can)

- embrace your androgynous aspects

- bathe or swim in a lake or hot spring (if you can)

- fight against corporate deforestation for logging and land development

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

[kaislashes]

Well I’m deprived and seeing these old gay men made me come out of writing retirement.

Enjoy 18+

Inho is laying under the bunks, trying to get as much sleep in as possible but is awoken by a laugh, wait no there's two people laughing. He's curious at who would be awake other than Gihun who volunteered to keep watch. He finds himself shifting slightly to get a view and he sees Jung Bae sitting rather closely to Gihun, both with big smiles on their faces as they reminiscent about their pasts together. Inho knows he shouldn't care, should just look away but he can't, a nasty feeling gnarling away at his chest. He'd be lying to himself if he said that he wasn't jealous and he can't help but be upset for even allowing that emotion to overcome him.

When he first saw Gihun those 2 years prior at the games he was nothing special, just another player until the games progressed and he proved to be different. The way Gihun held himself, the dedication, commitment to helping others even when his own life was at stake, he was truly human but instead of wanting to reward it he wanted to tear the man down. Finding out that Gihun had spent so much time and money to find him made his heart skip a beat, he was sick for wanting Gihun to find him, for letting him find him but he could careless. He remembers the way he held his breath when Gihun entered the car before the start of the new game, how eager and determined he was to go back in not knowing that he was entering THEIR new game. Inho was already one step ahead and Gihun already lost.

He laid there silently waiting for the telltale sign of Jung Bae getting up and heading to his bunk before soft snores are heard. Inho slides himself out from under the bunk and walks silently up to Gihun and puts a hand on his shoulder a little more firmly than necessary making the man jump slightly before smiling up at him. "I'm going to take watch, you should get some sleep." Inho says quietly and all the other man can do is nod before standing up and making his way back to his own top bunk where he settles in quietly. Inho can't help but get lost in his thoughts while keeping watch, still simmering on the jealousy from the two friends fondness of each other, he tries to distract himself from it but can't help when he finally boils over.

-

Gihun lays in his bunk, the room oddly quiet besides a few snores as he finds himself drifting to sleep until he hears someone climbing to ladder to his bed. He sits up ready to strike until he sees who it is, Inho staring at him, faces merely inches apart before he chuckles at him. "You scared me, what're you doing up here?" But Inho doesn't reply, doesn't even so much as smile. The man continues to fully pull himself onto Gihuns bed before shoving his back down onto the bed forcefully and stares down at Gihun who just looks back up dumbfounded. "Inho, what's wrong? Did something happen?" He's looking up at him frantically, a cold chill going down his spine at the emotionless look he's still getting back. He goes to sit up and shove Inho off of him but is met with two hands grabbing both his wrists and pinning them to the bed and his body straddling him fully so he's unable to move. "Did I do someth-" He's cut off when a soft pair of lips roughly slam into his own, he's stunned and doesn't reciprocate at first but soon gives in.

After what feels like a decade Inho pulls away but doesn't move to far, he stares down at him again and takes one of his hands away only to rub it down Gihun cheek in a almost sickly sweet manner but roughly grabbing ahold of his throat, tight enough to cause some panic but loose enough for him to breathe shallowly. "Youre so beautiful like this, so pliant, letting me use you like some whore." I know I should be angry at the words but all they do is send heat straight into Gihuns cock and he finds himself trying to grind into Inho. "Oh, you like that? Fucking slut, are you desperate for every mans cock or just mine?" He lets go of Gihuns throat so he can answer properly. "Just you, only you please help me." He still continues to try to grind into the man on top of him til he's met with a slap across the face, the feeling making him stop completely. "Then why are you strutting yourself around to Jung Bae, huh? Think I wouldn't notice that shit. Should put you in your place."

Gihun looks utterly perplexed, "No, he's just my friend. Promise it's just you please, need you so bad, don't stop." He all but whined. Inho feels his chest swell with pride but shuts it down quickly to focus on pleasuring both himself and the man underneath him. He allows himself to grind his own hardness and the erection that his been pressing into him the whole time and he cant help but groan. "Gonna make you mine forever, you're mine, always gonna be mine." He says possessively but leaning down and lightly biting Gihuns neck before fully baring his teeth into him. He cries out at the feeling knowing skin was definitely broken. He continues thrusting up until he feels himself getting close, "gonna cum, please let me cum" he says pathetically. Inho takes pity on him, also feeling himself approaching his end, he slams his lips against Gihuns roughly, sliding his hand down to pull the mans sweatpants down and his own to let theirs cock rub together. After a few more rushed thrusts Gihun moans lowly as he starts to cum, the feeling of him pulsing against Inho and the warm sensation sends the other man over, he grunts.

Inho rolls onto his back, both mens breathing slowing down and they both just stare at each other. He knew this changed everything now, knew he wasnt ever going to let Gihun leave him ever again.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Tech and Hondo Ohnaka (Part 4)

Rated: Teen and up (a rare general audiences fic on my part.)

Warning: Pain mention.

Fic Summary: Tech is plummeting toward death, yet he is spared, all thanks to a Weequay pirate who was simply in the wrong place at the right time, depending.

Word count: 1.9k

Notes: This is a kind of crack / AU scenario. I like the idea of Hondo being the one to encounter Tech after his fall. The idea was definitely inspired by Phee's line at the end of season 2: "Well, don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers while you're gone,." :) Don't take this too seriously, though at the same time I tried to make it plausible. The main point of this was to have fun with Tech and Hondo ribbing each other in their own way. I love both of these characters, and I am excited to see what you guys think.

*This is a shorter chapter, but it sets things up for what will happen next, and it felt right to stop where I did.

Chapter 1, 2, 3 | Read on Ao3

“Nu good, ensufferable know-et-all! Lousy carbon copy! A bold-faced liar, tinking he can hide de truth from me! Hondo!”

The Weequay ranted and raved as he made his way through Eriadu’s foilage, once more employing the use of his vibrocutlass. He hacked at those bits and pieces of plants that dared to hinder his forward march, having left the clone no more than thirty minutes prior. Hondo had nearly traversed a quarter kilometer before he stopped, allowing himself to cool off and for a clearer head to prevail. He was better than this, he mused, though it was about the principle; how dare this so-called soldier take him for a fool!

“He should have told me from de outset,” he muttered, his chest rising and falling more slowly as he caught his breath. With eyes asquint, the pirate gazed around himself, noting that it was nearly dark, and that he was all alone out here, minus one bruised and battered brainiac.

“Ugh, now de creepy crawlies will come out,” he grumbled, missing his desert home more and more each and every minute of each and every hour of each and every day, wanting only a stiff drink back at his beloved base on Florrum—too bad that would never happen now, left to roam the galaxy with the remainder of those men that were loyal to him.

Hondo was not stupid; he knew that they were growing restless; this job was meant to be a way for them to recoup that which was lost thanks to the Empire, only now it appeared he would be lucky to escape with his life—a feeling that clone must also be experiencing—the pirate sighed a deeply exaggerated sigh.

“What tu du, what tu du…” It was a rhetorical question, one he often asked himself, even if he already knew the answer, that pesky sense of honor returning to him at a most inconvenient time.

“He es dead weight, liable tu get me killed. Et would be easier tu steal a ship witout de extra baggage…” The pirate began to pace, aware that he was talking to himself, bits of dirt and dried leaves becoming displaced as he walked to and fro, his blade bouncing lightly against his shoulder.

“Ah, but he has a family—and let us not forget de reward!” Hondo reminded himself, suddenly finding it in his heart to be of help once more.

“Hopefully he es … still alive, unlike my men,” he offered to the forest, turning about face. Sheathing his sword, he felt he did not need it, having already cleared a path his first time through. “Ef not, wellll, one cannot say I ded not try.”

---

Though he felt destined for an unfavorable outcome, Tech had the heart of a soldier, and the ability to give up was not something within his wheelhouse. Trundling onward, it was easy to track the Weequay, for he was doing a poor job of hiding his trail. Tech doubted he was even attempting to, so angry had he been from the moment he left camp. He supposed he had every right to be, as he had not been completely forthright.

This had been his fear—to be left behind should the pirate learn the entirety of the truth—wondering if anything would be different had he come clean in the beginning. Transparency, of course, brought trust, yet he had taken quite a risk in keeping quiet. In other words, he should have known better—he did know better—but getting off Eriadu was more important, and so he carried on, even when his body was on the verge of failing him.

With the planet’s sun giving off its last rays, darkness fell, leaving Tech bathed in glimmers of moonlight. Peering out into the darkness through his cracked heads-up display, he stiffened at the sound of footsteps from somewhere ahead, wondering if it might be some kind of animal, or worse—more TK troopers that were out to capture him.

Taking cover, the commando stilled, curtailing his arrhythmic breathing the best he could. He waited for his enemy to show itself, thankful that he still had the element of surprise.

When at last a figure appeared on his infrared scanner, Tech took aim, firing off two shots in the direction of this would-be adversary. He was only able to make out the heat signature of the individual, though he wore what appeared to be a helmet—a possible lone TK who would undoubtedly call for backup if he had the chance.

“You imbecile, you shot me! Me! I thought you said you were smart!” the voice of the aggrieved called out from between the trees. “You are lucky dat Weequay have blaster resistant skin, you ex-republic dog, but you can rest assured you will be paying for de damages tu my very expensive, very valuable, Wroonian coat!”

Tech immediately holstered his blasters, though it was too little, too late. He had not expected to ever see the pirate again, trusting he had been left for dead. He was glad to be wrong, if only just this once, presently standing in an awkward manner as he attempted to regain his equanimity. “I thought you to be an enemy,” he stated plainly.

“Nu, just de idiot who has come tu rescue you. Again,” Hondo gruffly complained, dusting off his lapel. There was an obvious singe mark across it, and another along his right sleeve.

“I must admit that this is a surprise.”

“Tu you and me both,” Hondo replied snidely.

Tech had nothing to say, simply waiting for the pirate’s next move. If he had learned anything in their short time together, it was that he had a flare for theatrics and was sure to take over the conversation as he saw fit; he was correct in that assumption.

“But unfortunately for me, and fortunately for you, I have a heart.” The pirate felt deceived by his own shortcomings, wafting a hand dismissively for him to follow. “Now come, hurry, I was nearly tu de lommite mine when I had tu turn around and fetch you. Et es already dark, however dis may be en our favor.”

“Obviously, the cover of darkness is a boon in this situation,” Tech agreed.

“Dat es what I just said,” Hondo snapped, though the clone remained quiet, refusing to buy into what would quickly become a game of tit for tat. He felt exchanging quips, in this case, was not worth the effort, and that it would only prolong the rogue’s sour mood. He was not, after all, one of his brothers, and he was unsure what future repercussions might await him should he continue to engage.

“I am ready when you are.”

“I am ready now,” Hondo shot back, turning on the heel of his boot. He hastened his departure, leaving Tech to keep up as quickly as his legs would allow.

---

Without Hondo, and due to the failure of his equipment, Tech would not have known just how close the lommite mine truly was or its precise location. Soon, they reached the safety of rolling hills that spread into mountains, a large structure built into the mass of rock looming straight ahead.

From their refuge beneath a stone projection, they could observe that beyond a set of open hydraulic doors was a spacious bay, loaded with an assortment of mining equipment. There were bucket excavators; hauler trucks; rock dusters, and crushing machines, all serving a distinct purpose. More importantly, there were cargo ships, ground cars with treads, and speeder bikes most likely belonging to the Empire—or the employees of the facility itself—though Tech could hardly make out anything but nebulous lines.

“Just dere, you see? Eriadu Mining and Shipping. Dey have large industrial transport ships dat leave every hour on de hour, and a rotating staff of nearly one hundred men, not tu mention droids! Of course, dat does not account for de Imperial personnel lurking about … Just our luck, ah?”

“Indeed,” was the only answer the clone afforded him, having been distracted by the heat signatures of two sentient beings that were out of bounds. They were skulking about just as they were, though much closer to the entrance of the mine. “I believe we are not the only ones here.”

“Yes, yes! Dere are many people! Are you suuuure you are de genius you say you are?” Hondo probed.

“Unsurprisingly, you misunderstand,” Tech informed him. “There are two individuals lurking nearby the entrance. It appears they are planning to sneak inside.”

“What? Where!” Hondo asked, raising his voice. Realizing his own mistake, he lowered it to an excitable whisper. “I du not see anyon—more troopers?” he asked, spotting two white dots amid the darkness.

Tech attempted to zoom in with his heads-up display, though the screen temporarily blacked out; the clone held his breath until it came back online. “No.”

Though unable to clearly see the pair below, they were not behaving like Imperial soldiers, and Tech was sure of at least one thing—they were not wearing buckets on their heads.

"I was sure they had escaped off-world," Tech said, more to himself, noting that Saw was down one man. There had been several Partisans in total, though now he only spotted two lifeforms below.

“And of whom are you speaking?” The pirate was becoming increasingly annoyed.

“Saw Guerra. I mentioned him when discussing the events that transpired at Raven’s Peak.”

“De man wit de most beautiful sister…” Hondo trailed off, reminiscing on what he knew of him and his family; he remembered delivering weapons to them at Skywalker’s behest, having been paid handsomely for his services. “Dis es an interesting development! Perhaps he may offer us a distraction while we find a ride out of dis place, ah? Or maybe he would be willing tu work tugether. Four heads are better dan two, nu matter ef one of dose heads es presumably smarter.”

Tech ignored the comment about Saw's sibling, having never known him to have a sister. "Saw will help himself and his cause, disregarding even the soundest advice if it interferes with his own plans," Tech declared with confidence; he knew this to be true based on his most recent experience. While presenting a logical counterargument against the destruction of the Imperial base, Saw stated it was, "for the greater good," even after being told that the lives of clones were at stake. It was safe to say he had lost some, if not all, of Tech's respect.

“Dat es terrible news…” Hondo stroked the length of his frills, contemplating the situation. “Dough ef we are lucky—and I am lucky—I will be able tu change his mind.”

“I highly doubt—” Tech ended his thought to begin another as the scoundrel rose, worried that the Weequay would also disregard him. “Wait, we should formulate a plan. It is unwise to—”

“—blah blah blah,” Hondo interjected, beginning to make his way downhill. “Are you coming, or du you prefer tu stay here, for I am leaving wit or witout you.”

Tech sighed heavily, standing unsteadily to his feet. Though it was against his better judgement and defied all common sense, he made slow work of following the pirate, unable to shake the feeling they were headed for disaster.

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[padfootastic]

i am so tired of female characters being inherently written as ‘terrifying’ or ‘scary’ w no respect to their characterisation.

for one, it feels so fake. i know so many women irl (i am one!!!) and there are very few, of any, that i would categorise as ‘scary as is’. heck, even if we go by tempers—the numbers just don’t match.

but somehow in fics, every single woman is a terrifying force of nature bc that’s…somehow…the only way we can think of women? idk?

and also just, it’s such a two dimensional characterisation that i only see w the female characters. all men aren’t angry and hex-happy and scary all the time. they’re affable, chill, respond to situations thoughtfully instead of always resorting to violence.

i think it also bothers me bc the anger thing flows neatly into the v gendered carefree man child/stuck up fun sponge stereotypes that so many relationships are forced into. it’s just an icky dynamic all around.

and lastly,,,i don’t think it’s even normal for a character to be latently terrifying everyone all the time??? unless it’s a specific quirk of theirs??? like women aren’t dementors bro chill tf out

[userautumn]

++

[fauvester]

Do lim and garak ever have a genuine bonding moment?

OUGHH I think he has to get a lot of his therapizing done offscreen and internally. He needs to put aside his anger and see his father and his contemporaries for the flawed-but-trying people they are. Iskra doesn't really help, but eventually 'if you'd been born into his position you would have done the same thing to protect Cardassia that he did, except worse, because he's smarter than you' settles in.

Garak has to learn to speak his mind more plainly because Lim sees his vague allusions and crafty lies as a cowardly way to hide unpleasant truths. Galactic politics necessitates that he tones his monomaniac Cardassian exceptionalism down, and eventually that may grow to reflect his genuine feelings (but if asked he will certainly lie, so who knows?) Lim needs to grow up a little, see that his parents are also just people trying their best like he is, and maybe go through the mundane trials of adult life on a stunned and recuperating planet to sand his edges off. It's very gradual.

Also tbh they need some time to develop things in common... Lim isn't very well read, doesn't like to talk for fun and is inconsistently disparaging of anything unnecessarily decorative. But eventually he develops an appreciation for creature comforts and realizes that that doesn't make him a bad person, and then he and Garak can debate about what color to paint the house siding or whether or not the azaleas will grow in full sun.

But he very much benefits from some good yadek hugs now and then...

[transgaysex]

i think ive reached my limit of how many times i can handle people only being able to refer to marcille as a girlfailure

[bunni-bonez]

tbh I think it’s kinda fucked that young men who get radicalized by the alt right tend be receive way more sympathy from leftists than young women who get radicalized into terfdom. It seems like a lot of online leftists see young Nazis as enemies (as they should), but redeemable ones. They get the luxury of having their radicalization explained with Materialism so that they can, in theory, eventually see the light. Which on some levels is good. Deradicalization is a good way of defanging dangerous movements. But radfems never get that grace. Which is understandable, they are hateful bigots after all, but their ideas don’t spring from nowhere. I’ve spent more hours than I’d like to admit curiously scrolling thru radfem blogs. And honestly. I get it. A lot of it just feels like understandable frustration at growing up in a misogynistic culture. On tumblr at least, it seems like radfems are primarily angry at men, trans people are secondary enemies to them. Its justified to be angry. I may not have always lived as a woman, but I harbor a lot of pain and anger at the way misogyny affects my life. But that anger can not be the sole basis of my outlook. Because anger only shows you half the truth. And in the material blind spots is where radfem transphobia comes in. Trans people might not always be the main enemy, but they are the more vulnerable one. While we should oppose terfs, especially the active propagandists who want us dead, it is important to understand how young women get swept up in that ideology. And hopefully through that, we we can try to prevent that rabbit hole.

Or idk whatever I hate discourse lol

[dirhwangdaseul-archived]

idk if i have stated in so many words before but kinda weird for people not to care about the brown men of the story on account of them being men

like most people did to javi irl what the yellowjackets did in the show lol, dismissed always, no more than the little kid, he was already dead

[black-rose-writings]

It's that time of the year again - time to argue with my mom about why I'm uncomfortable participating in the "symbolic violence against women "for their own good"" holiday.

[mariemariemaria]

Does anybody else feel the waves of history crashing over them constantly and like they can't escape the generational trauma that permeates and poisons every interaction they have or do I just need to chill and have a drink lol