#i projected with every molecule in my body and then some like

[astrobei]

Omg hi, I’ve been reading your fics on AO3 for a while now but just recently found your tumblr!! All of your work is absolutely incredible, and my personal favorite is “I might be hoping about this”!! I’ve been wondering, would you ever write the opposite of it, where Will is taking care of Mike? Not necessarily a continuation of the original if you wanted to keep that a standalone, but maybe a separate fic? I was just curious, you wrote the dynamic of Mike taking care of Will so well, it would be so cool to see your take on that same scenario the other way around. You write their characters so so well, and I’ve always had a soft spot for sickfics. I hope you’re having a great day!! :)

hi hi hi !! sooo so glad you’ve been enjoying my work lately this is so sweet of u to say ☹️🫂 this fic is also one of my personal favorites that i’ve written so i’m extra glad that it’s stood out to you !! i’ve actually been asked this question a few times before which is so flattering honestly that people want a sequel/companion fic and if i’m being super honest i’m not sure if i will? i guess i can’t say that i for sure won’t because you never know and i probably will write a sick mike at some point because established relationship has really grown on me in the past few months but !! for now i don’t think i’ll write another sickfic specifically (at least not of that length or with only being sick as the premise) just because i know myself and writing it will feel a little repetitive and frustrating for me :/ i probably will incorporate a sick mike into a fic at some point or make it a shorter ficlet here on tumblr or something because you’re right i would love to write the reversed dynamic and i think it would be so fun !! i just don’t see myself writing another full length fic of that and that alone especially bc the original fic is so dear to me and i would hate to feel like i’m trying to outdo myself or something. anyway. that was a whole lot of rambling that u did not ask for but !! thank u sooo so much for asking and for stopping by this was so lovely !! and sick mike eventually i think! just probably not in full fic format :^)

#whenever someone says they love the sickfic i weep tears of joy #it’s hard for me to pick and choose favorites in my own writing but idk writing this fic was so #like. i screamed i yelled i shoved my face into a pillow i paced around the room #i projected with every molecule in my body and then some like #it was a fucking rollercoaster of emotions #n e ways #thank u anon this made me smile soooo big <33 #/ask

[nation-of-bros]

Reincarnation as an African

There won't be much choice of bodies that you can reincarnate into (if you even want to). Therefore, many European and Asian spirits will then be squeezed out of African wombs, their spirits reborn as black, which will possibly influence their development and bring them closer to ours. But that's just speculative.

I was once told of an experience where a girl in an Iraqi family always spoke strangely. Nobody understood her until an acquaintance of the mother's came to visit and asked why her daughter spoke Mandarin. I find that quite impressive, and it is also obvious because China has a very low birth rate and as a deceased Chinese person you are thus required to look further afield for a new family in order to be reborn.

Most people reincarnate near their place of death or where they have a point of reference. But this is not a law of nature, and changing nationalities are as common as changing sex. This is why many people tend to learn certain foreign languages much more easily and quickly because they already spoke them but just simply forgotten due to their current reincarnation. However, the information is still there, as part of your consciousness, your personality, which is purely immaterial and hence cannot die like a body.

There are even children who report that they previously lived on another planet. And, not surprisingly, Earth is often described by them as a particularly difficult world. In fact, our consciousness is completely free and can reincarnate anywhere in the universe, you just have to open yourself up mentally and project yourself there in your mind, like an out of body experience that some living people are already capable of: You have to imagine a place, get a picture of it, and you're already there and can look around without actually being in that place physically.

The Trinity of Body, Soul and Consciousness

Die Dreiheit von Körper, Seele und Bewusstsein

When we are dead, this is the normal state for us, which is why deceased people can apparate no matter where. It's enough if their living loved ones are thinking about them and they then appear in one of the photos taken at a family party, for example. My theory is that under a certain angle of light, apparations of the deceased or other immaterial beings that manifest themselves photonically on our physical plane can be made visible, which are otherwise only perceivable by a few receptive people who have easier an access to the immaterial plain of existence.

In fact, even when dead, we are not formless beings, some cloud; Because the information that holds the atoms and molecules of our body together to form tissue and organ units is equally immaterial. The British Biochemist Rupert Sheldrake calls this immaterial aspect of life "morphogenetic fields," an eternal substructure just like our consciousness itself, as you can't kill the idea of a construction plan or any other thought.

I myself prefer to speak of the "soul", which we adopt from our parents during reincarnation when we attach ourselves to a fertilized egg cell like the sperm itself. Our new "morphogenetic field" then represents nothing other than a kind of mixture of the souls of our new parents, an already finished blueprint of our fully grown body. It is then our consciousness that mentally sends out streams of patterns to initiate self-organizing activities that lead to the fertilized egg cell dividing. So to speak, the body's cells grow into the immaterial form that has long since been completed. I suspect that a certain variation, different from the parents, also occurs here and there, in that one's own previous existences also, albeit minimally, influence the physiognomy, so that the resulting child is a moprhological mixture of its parents with certain variations by previous existences.

It is also conceivable that some people choose their new parents very precisely and exert every mental influence, possibly even regarding the choice of partner, so that their next reincarnation corresponds as closely as possible to their previous one. Some people don't even leave the choice of name to chance, so they appear to their new mother in a dream and introduce themselves with the wanted name. Our consciousness is like a book that is never finished. Most of the time we write in it ourselves, but there are many pages where others write in and it is up to us to read or skip those pages.

#reincarnation #paranormal #essay

[discipulusmaleficus]

(suffered a whim and drafted a new, wordier post for the fundamentals of my Weird Magic System Nonsense (1, 2) bc I never bothered convert pt. 1 from handwriting to text and it's ugly. I do not promise this is comprehensible, coherent or interesting.)

Magic is not a solved science. It's difficult enough trying to integrate the different models and techniques used by various magical traditions throughout the world even without trying to throw quantum mechanics into the mix. Furthermore, for historical and cultural reasons, much of the magical community remains reluctant to entertain certain investigations.

(Besides, wouldn't want to make yourself redundant, would you?)

I have vague and silly ideas about it, though.

RE: MATERIAL AND EXTRAMATERIAL SPACE

Magic, like material matter, most likely takes the form of particles and waves (which are the same thing ;) ). (No I do not have names and basic properties for the fundamental magical particles and I am not going to. I was considering charges of hot/cold and wet/dry despite these not meaning anything relevant to our macro understanding of these things, though.)

Now.

As a rule, material particles live in the mostly-flat three dimensional space we are familiar with navigating, and do not have the magical energy to leave it unless charged by an outside force.

As previously noted, magic takes place in six dimensions. Anything not on the material plane is on the astral plane, making it much larger and more confusing to navigate.

Similiarly, as a rule, pure magic exists Around the material plane and will only ever -- usually never -- be briefly visible or solid from our perspective. It can, however, bond with and influence both solid and magical particles -- in fact, essentially every molecule has magical elements. Magic is prone to loosely orbiting the material plane, though this effect peters out the further you get from it. (Have fun getting lost in the void.)

Purely or primarily magical entities include ghosts, curses, most daemons, and abominations such that how best to describe or categorise them is a lively debate.

RE: SOULS OR AURAS OR WHATEVER

All living things have some biological systems that extend into the astral plane. In intelligent species, this is what we call the 'soul'. Its anatomy is complex, fluid and poorly mapped, and can vary on an individual basis far more than our physical forms. Certainly, though, it is -- in most people -- capable of forming prehensile appendages, of absorbing and channeling magical energy, and of something resembling sight, touch and taste. Good passive defence against hexes correlates with less sensitivity.

Magic as an activity is, at its core, simply the ability to make use of said extramaterial Bits to achieve useful work. Our minds aren't really equipped to comprehend the full picture here, so anything sensed spiritually is generally subconscious or translated into an easier-to-digest form which varies person to person. This is also, of course, why mages are so often reliant on visualisation, symbolism and instinct.

Although they can naturally be pried apart temporarily, damage or extended separation is liable to cause brain damage and no doubt any other number of lovely things. Getting lost outside reality will generally render your body a vegetable, although there are some isolated reports of such examples going on to recover and develop new, different identities.

Typically, even when astral projecting, it's possible to maintain enough of an umbilical cord that this isn't a major issue. Total separation releases energy and requires energy to undo -- which is part of why one can harvest energy from animal and human sacrifice, as well as why young idiot mages occasionally need help getting back into their bodies.

#completes this at 2am like a dumbass #I don't actually understand anything about physics btw. I just like fucking around #midichlorian shit #q

[the-orangeauthor]

hey!! sorry if this ask is random, (ive sent you an ask before, but idk if you remember :P) i just wanted to ask about biomed as a subject in uni since im planning on pursuing it too!!

what kinds of things do you learn?? (the course syllabus is so vague. so vague) like i see topics like musculoskeletal system and chemical biomed but what EXACTLY goes in it?

any textbooks/resources that you’d recommend?? every college recommends like 10 books of their own and there’s so many online but which ones are actually useful??

on that note, any place i can get secondhand textbooks from??

some tips you absolutely HAVE to know as a biomed student?

if you’ve reached there, how do you plan for a dissertation/thesis paper? Just an outline of the steps if you could :D

thanks so much for your time and support and hope you have a great day/night!!

Hi!! unfortunately tely I have the memory of a fish unless you're in my face all the time, so I dont remember you but you are always welcome in my inbox regardless!!

there quite a lot to unpack in this so I might make it into several posts for the sake of length but I'll tag you in each part!

what kinds of things do you learn?? (the course syllabus is so vague. so vague) like i see topics like musculoskeletal system and chemical biomed but what EXACTLY goes in it?

this is a good question, biomed is an incredibly broad degree when it comes to science, which is what makes biomed graduates desirable in loads of different fields. I can give you a quick breakdown of the variety of modules I did over the years to show you how!!

Anatomy and physiology :

Does what it says on the tin, we looked at different parts of the anatomy more specifically different organs systems and looked at their normal functions in a healthy person as well as possible pathologies/diseases of the systems eg different lung diseases when we did respiratory systems etc. the diseases ranged from those that can be inherited to those that you develop due to lifestyle or those caught by pathogens so it covered a huge amount.

Research skills / lab skills:

The greatest opportunity you will get to play with lab equipment. The professors will set up series of investigations you can do so you can get a feel for how different equipment in the lab works since university will have a lot more specialist equipment than you’re used to - this will definitely come in hand if you take on a practical dissertation project as it will build your confidence with the machines!

Biochemistry :

A lot of people on my course found this the hardest of all the modules we studied, since it has a lot more chemistry compared to the rest of the course which is heavily biology focused. In biomchem we looks at molecular structures and thier interactions with each other, biological molecules like water, glucose, lipids etc, to understand why these chemicals have certain properties and how the human body is adapted to utilise them.

Cell biology:

Another straight forward one - where anatomy and physiology looked at organs and organ systems, cell biology is focused on the function of individual cells and how they’re adapted to their functions. There’s a lot more details to the internal structure of the cell and how they join together and communicate etc

As the years go on the modules will split into more specialised subjects but still build on the more basic ones I explained above:

Tissue science /histology / histopathology :

Like cell biology, you study cells and tissues, but you also look at diseases - this includes things like cancer and the physical changes that cells undergo as they become tumours and you look at the grading /staging system for cancers. You also look at a lot of autoimmune disorders - diseases where the body is attacking itself - and see how that effects tissue structure. You are likely to get lab sessions looking at diseased tissues.

Infection science / immunity :

All diseases under the sun, with a bit of a heavier focus on those you get from pathogens. You’ll look at several examples for each type, viral, bacterial, fungal etc and look at the effect they have on tissues, organs and the person as a whole - you are likely to get case studies where they tell you the patients symptoms and some test results and ask for a possible diagnosis. A lot of time spent looking at the immune system in more detail - there is always more detail

Medicinal chemistry :

This topic was all about the body and drug interactions so this is where doing biochemistry really helped as we looked at functional groups on drugs and how some were more or less suited for the compound etc. we looked at the process of clinical trials, formulation of drugs, played around with exploring their 3D structure with cool software - very different from the other topics but just as interesting for sure

Blood science / haematology:

Probably one of my favourites because my professor was amazing but it is exactly what it says. We study the blood from how the cells form (including red and white blood cells) disorders of the blood like sickle cell, leukaemia etc, how the shape of cells is affected by the different diseases etc etc. we also spend a lot of time looking at blood testing and lab results since a lot of people in biomed will go on to work in hospital labs - this is one of the more relevant topics towards career progression if you want to avoid further studies. Because we look at lab reports you’ll also get a fair amount of case studies in this topic too.

Medical genetics :

I took this as an optional module so you may not (or at least not go into as much detail) on this but medical genetics was spent looking at DNA and chromosomes and how inherited disorders can arise as well as the importance of coding and non-coding regions of DNA and gene therapy

Parasitology:

Another optional module, but covered briefly in infection science, it goes into parasites in a lot more detail - this different types, how they spread, where they spread, the symptoms, the treatment etc - not for the faint of heart there are many a picture of worms in places where there shouldn’t be worms that are permanently seared into my brain

Overall the modules are broad but there is definite overlap between each one and things you learn in one module you may come across in another. All of them were very interesting and you may study them across multiple years (but it would be the advanced syllabus the following year) so your knowledge on it will become well rounded as it gradually builds.

This is pretty long so I’ll answer your thesis and textbook questions in a second post today! I hope this helped and feel free to ask more questions if you like.

#anmols bsc biomed #anmol answers #biomedical science #biomed #university

[marvelmaniac715]

So this came out of my desire to see Adult Chucky interacting with Child Chucky. I decided that the best way to do that was by adding in a detail to the plot that when Chucky splits his soul (not a transfer, but a split, like when he splits into Nica or the other dolls) he astral projects into his mind and meets younger versions of himself. I don’t know, just thought it would be fun.

————————————————————

The split process was agony. Chucky felt every molecule of his body ripping in half and shooting into the body of Nica Pierce. For a moment he regretted doing it because it was so painful, only for a moment though.

Without warning, he suddenly found himself thrust into an endless black void. When he walked, every footstep echoed loudly. He was alone, or so it seemed. In the distance, he could hear a child crying. 

He would have ignored it, but it was really annoying, and he had no idea why there was a child in this empty void. Could it be Glen? No, Glen had a British accent for some reason, and his cries sounded different. These cries were from an American child.

When Chucky finally found the source of the noise, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His six or seven year old self, crying his eyes out in his little checked pyjamas. This was pretty much the only time in his life where his hair was straight. He couldn’t stand the wailing, so he decided to speak to him.

“Ay, kid, the fuck’s the matter with ya?”

This stopped the crying. Little Chucky (as the doll was now referring to him) looked up in shock and surprise to see a doll talking to him. He sniffled a bit, but finally responded.

“I-I killed my M-mommy! I didn’t mean to but a bad man just k-killed Daddy and I was so scared. The knife was to hurt the bad man, but Mommy hugged me real tight and I panicked! I’m not a bad boy Mister Doll, I’m a good boy! Mommy always said so but now she’s-‘

He cut himself off with more sobbing. It was weird for Adult Chucky to see his origin story told from the perspective of a wimpy little brat. He’d tried to destroy that part of himself as soon as he entered the Boy’s Home. In fact, his therapist Doctor Mixter had encouraged it, saying that he’d only hurt himself more if he allowed himself to be so… soft.

This Little Chucky must have come from just a few seconds after he’d killed his idiot mother. Because for a few seconds after he’d realised what he’d done, he had cried. But looking back, that was so pathetic, the great Charles Lee Ray reduced to tears over a simple stabbing. 

By the time the guy who’d bumped off Daddy Dearest had ambled up the stairs to give Baby Charles his first lesson in murder, he’d steeled his resolve and decided to put on a brave face. He hadn’t taken it off ever since.

In a way, that first kill was a mercy kill. That guy was gonna kill her as soon as he got upstairs, and it wouldn’t be a quick stab to the stomach (a nice, quick death) it would have been repeated stabbings and possibly worse. Even he knew that violating a person in that way was wrong. He wasn’t a monster.

The entire time that Adult Chucky had been exploring his past, Little Chucky had been howling beside him. It was extremely… irritating. He’d never been able to stand kids crying. It made him feel like a terrible person, and the last thing he wanted to do was examine his morals whilst he was on the hunt. He had to shut this kid up, but he was shit at offering comfort. Oh well, he’d try anyway.

“Look, kid, you did that in self defence. Nobody could blame ya. I mean, I did the same. Your life isn’t gonna be the same from now on, bud, you’re gonna have a lot of trouble fitting in, and you’ll constantly move from place to place. When you’re thirty eight you’ll have a really bad accident that will dramatically alter your life forever. But after that, you’ll get married to a… semi-stable chick that you met when you were in your early twenties and have… a kid. It’s not clear whether it’s a boy or girl, but they’re pretty sweet I guess, even if your sort of daughter is a little bit too much like you… Anyway, you feel awful now, but you’ve just done an amazing thing for your future. So put on a brave face, march outta that wardrobe and give ‘em all hell, kid.”

Little Chucky stopped sniffling, wiped his eyes and smiled a little. He still didn’t understand why a doll was talking to him, but he was ready to face the world, no matter what it threw at him.

#chucky #chucky series #charles lee ray #childs play #horror #fanfiction

[onetuffbunny]

some people think we slipped into another universe a few years back where everything is mostly the same except a little worse and the brand names are different.

i don’t believe this. as the resident far out weirdo, i have to draw my line somewhere and it’s here. i have concrete proof that multiple dimensions are real because a groovy chick at a party confirmed it for me, as have multiple people, but i already knew about that. do i believe in astral projection? yes. my experiments into the psychedelic realm continue. remote viewing is also a yes. i knew aliens were real all along, so confirmation of their (our? do i have claim to that title? i am made of earth but i am also changed down to every molecule of my body on account of biting a dude real good.) existence was pleasant but not a shock to me because i may be dumb but i’m not a dummy. obviously ghosts and angels are real, i don’t think that was in question. i am not talking about alien ghosts, i am talking about ghost ghosts, though i guess aliens can be ghost ghosts too. i have communicated with the spirit realm, received divine messages from many different sources, cast arcane spells and hexes and things of that sort, and i take my purpose as a high priest very seriously, which is why i continue my sacred mission of getting real weird with it, so obviously i am not a stranger to things that are way far out there.

i know what people think of me and they’re probably right. i may only be right about things by coincidence and i know that even if things weren’t real, i would believe them anyway. i know right now that i believe in things that i know aren’t real. this is the crux of my magical practices. you hold two contradictory ideas in your head at the same time and you make both of them real. when i get down into that old neon funk, i forget that. i don’t remember to remember that things also aren’t real because most things aren’t real and you can’t hang onto them. i have been on here too much when i’ve went and forgotten whats what, so sorry for that, though if you ever read anything i write, that’s on you because i, for one, never read my own word-vomit if i can help it. when i’m in my semi-right mind, most of what i say is bullshit because i have word-sounds in my head and need to get them transcribed somewhere so they can stay there and not my head so i can do other things. i need the headspace. like a computer, i am running out of memory and i need to dedicate my remaining resources to cleaning and making sure my kids don’t grow up to become shinji ikari kinnies. i guess it’s okay to say i have kids here because it’s been awhile and no one’s taken them away yet. incidentally, i don’t know how computers work. i know lights are involved. they have off buttons. they have restart buttons. i need to find my own restart button so i can boot up in safe mode and run antivirus on myself. anyway, when i’m completely off my shit, i die inside when i look back on things i’ve said and done because i will let the wolves into my own house and i don’t like being reminded of that. if you’re the wolves in my house, forward me a mailing address please. people assume i’m on a lot of drugs when i’m in a cherry-colored funk but that i’m not on a lot of drugs, that’s just the side effects of having your brain all mixed up. i am making no claims to stone cold sobriety because i probably should ease up on the weekend tequila and i smoke out the bone hurting juice. my bones hurt. it is what it is. i miss my bones not hurting all the time. i was fishblessed but i am still shaped in ways i should not be shaped, werewolf transformation incomplete, either squished down into glamour shape or stretched out into Long Shape. wrong. bad. let me tell you what, if there was onlyfans for aliens, they would not want me posting pictures of my butt on there. i mean, not every part of my inglorious transformation is bad but i have scars from getting stretched too quick and i shed all over the goddamn place and i keep hitting my head on things a lot and i don’t know about you, but i do not need another concussion.

something something words words ramble ramble insert something fake deep here

anyway, the point is that i gotta draw my line somewhere. i’m a conspiracy theorist but i don’t think i’m living in another dimension just because some people can’t remember what the logo on their undies looks like. if i have ever shifted to another universe, it’s for entirely different reasons. is it possible? maybe. i think about quantum immortality a lot. however, all evidence points to the fact that i am most likely existing in the same universe as i’ve been in since i was born. i don’t know what i was doing before i was born and i guess that’s not important because most people don’t know what they were doing before they born except a few toddlers who remember being peasants in victorian england. i think there are a few points in my life where cosmic events happened but instead of going to another universe or something, i just got weirder instead. for example, the great cataclysm of 2017 left me with advanced adhd instead of only regular adhd and i forgot how to speak for three months. shit was wild. went to so many doctors and the end diagnosis was that i was a couple thousand dollars poorer and idk have you tried not being crazy, you should try it. anyway maybe it was for the best because i had to learn sign language and then it turns out my kid doesn’t verbalize easy around other people, so my brainfunk came in handy for once. he’s starting kindergarten this year and he’s going to be so much cooler than all the other small children. i made him a baby yellow submarine shirt because he doesn’t really like baby shark that much anymore but he makes me listen to the beatles like every day almost. not complaing. i mean he could be a kiss fan instead. i don’t know what i’d do if my kid was a kiss fan. listen to kiss, i guess.

i don’t know, man. i gotta lot of ideas in my head and no way to say them properlike. i’m doing my best to say what’s right and know what’s up but it’s hard. i don’t know if becoming a fledgling is making diving the secrets of the universe easier or harder. maybe it just makes it weirder. who can really say. not me. i genuinely do not know what’s happening most of the time. i’m just dancing in the dark and aren’t we all just bruce springsteening it up on the great plane called life. actually no, only bruce springsteen is doing that. man’s on fire. i’m still figuring out what becoming a baby bird means for me but i guess everyone else is too. honestly maybe it’s not that important. i’m just long and my bones hurt all the time but i was already pretty tall and in the end, everyone’s body becomes shit. i just eat other stuff now. i am saving so much money. things happen because they’re going to happen. some guy thinks you’re a ghost dog and now you drink pig blood right out of the container. could be a lot worse. this is not a great cataclysm in my life. it is just an event that happens. right now my biggest issue is whether or not it’s still okay to think megatron is hot because what if transformers are real. this is one of those sentences where i stop for a second to think that maybe i should not share that with the world but you know what, if you’re still reading this, you’ve made an active, conscious decision to continue on with my bullshit.

going to give a shoutout to the mes in other universes. i hope one day we meet up so i can learn knowledge from you and/or start a band.

[buzzerbeaterbin]

Like clockwork, I always manage to come down with some sort of respiratory illness every February and September ish; this time around however my body has endured some weird PMS, GI, and UO (my attempt to spare those in my circle who are not in medicine and do not have the same TMI-threshold) symptoms all month and starting Sunday I've been dealing with a feverish, achy kind of malaise with a nonexistent appetite for food or water. Not the strongest comeback after a month of an intense anxiety/adrenaline high (my second exam of the year was hell in ways I won't bore anyone with), but I am grateful for remote access to my education in the meantime 🙏 I just hope I'm able to not mess up my sleep schedule too much, considering I knocked out for hours in the early evening today and find myself writing this at 3am.

To state the obvious and expected: school has been exceedingly difficult. Not necessarily in a bad way though, at least all the time? I am constantly flipping between resentment towards the unreasonable pacing of a medical school education and feeling blessed and willing to probe about everything I learn about**; there's no shortage of academic and even existential enrichment these days, and as a kid who never took school as seriously as they probably should have, I'm holding on tightly to the opportunity to prove to myself that I can be the intellectually curious human I've always wanted to be. In short, these days have been an extension of last year - the arduous yet rewarding process of learning, period; about cells, the trajectory of an organic molecule in our livers, the phenotypical presentations of certain enzyme deficiencies, and the hardest one as of late - about how to maintain my sanity while being tested over and over again.

As I've been carrying the weight of this mental load, movement (in any form) has unfortunately been largely on the back burner. I'm hoping to never have to go a full week without at least fitting in some maintenance weight lifting, if not progressive overloading, but being sick this week might get in the way. The good news is I think I've nailed down a daily routine that I can start sticking to once I'm back in person?? I have one more true P/F exam before I'll start being tier graded (honors/high P/P/F), so the pressure is on to really figure out my strategies this time.

Godspeed to everyone working towards a time sensitive, stress inducing, energy draining or fate controlling project/goal/milestone right now - we're all in this together <3

10 things that have kept me nourished recently (I love fall):

CONCORD GRAPE SEASON YAAAAAAA (pictured above - NOT JUMBO BLUEBERRIES tho I have a soft spot for all fruits ofc)

Peanut butter chocolate chip larabars; I have adam tcharni to thank for introducing me to these

a ton of veggie-saturated japchae, porridge, and japanese curry courtesy of my mom but all very simple dishes to cook up as well if anybody needs meal inspo

finding this chocolate and miso banana bread recipe and making plans to bake it w a friend this weekend

planning a mid-autumn/chuseok potluck for this weekend to celebrate w my fellow asian american classmates! excited to gather and bool

The healthy minds (thank you ryan) and balance apps - both have built-in gameifying features that encourage a regimented approach to meditation in the same way that a lot of fitness apps do

seeing matthew's decorated spooky apt and watching season 4 of love is blind together as a mental pacifier before bed

deep cleaning/sanitizing my own apt

finding a volunteer opportunity for a trick or treat program the school hosts for the city kids

A very long but very needed talk with my brother who imparted tons of his invaluable wisdom

**Our existence is made up of long ass codes, created by strings of sugar, phosphate, and nitrogen-rich molecules. These codes are used to make proteins. But where the hell, then, does sentience come from??

#nourish #mental

[verbo-s-e]

june 5, 2023 9:38 pm (pst)

i had so much more i wanted to add, but now i don’t know what to say or do. i’m second guessing. everything. if i were to zoom out as a third party spectator, i’d see a girl — mentally ill and too much love to give because she’s never had it herself. that makes me sad. embarrassed. sad again.

i’m afraid to fall asleep. i don’t say this to be dramatic. simply just a truth. because in sleep, i go far beyond any earthly or human realm/plane. there, we exist as two people who don’t have the weight of the world on our shoulders. we’re just us and not a square peg, round hole. we actually fit. we just exist peacefully within each others company. no labels of anything. just ourselves. it’s a recognition, a knowing i’ve felt since the moment we met.

i’ve always been sensitive to everything. a symptom/side effect of the life i was born into. but i’ve also, more importantly, been sensitive to the elusive. the strange forces that bind us as a human race. energy. vibes. whatever you wanna call it. i remember being so small and feeling things i had no business feeling. knowing things i had no business knowing, but did anyway. it’s a muscle i’ve grown my entire life and i trust it explicitly.

or, at least i used to. these days? i don’t know. it’s been a long time since i have. when everything fell apart the first time, i felt like i didn’t just lose you, but my intuition. my religion.

when our worlds collided, i felt and knew things i shouldn’t have known. trusted the universe with every molecule and atom in my body. can’t say it’s been exactly great, but even in the ‘losses’ i’ve gained profound abundance. those moments when we’re synced together hold so much magic for me. i know you know what i mean. for so long i begged you to see me. just once. to really see me. i feel like i should be used to not getting what i want but it doesn’t get easier. i think you did/have/do. but it scares you because maybe you see what i see too. i don’t say that out of projection, yet a deep deep knowing. i use that word a lot, knowing. but it’s true. my truth.

so sleeping: my favorite activity. used to be anyway. now, i dread it. i dread the dreams. the roller coaster rides i go on. i wake up more exhausted than when i went to sleep. this is the worst part of all of this. that in these moments, i want to say fuck it. i don’t need to break things off. if i can just get some sleep, and keep you close, i’ll make it work. i can make it work.

this is what we call the ‘bartering’ stage of grief, ladies and gentlemen.

i can’t make it work anymore. i’m so tired that my bones hurt. it’s dysfunctional.

during this last semester we explored a lot in abnormal psych. to the point where i got so wound up and triggered i almost dropped out again. it was a painful reminder of my own illnesses and hyperfixations and quirks and traumas and everything else. bpd? check. love addiction? check. depression? check. anxiety? check. ptsd? check. autism? check. check check check check check.

i really had to look at myself in the mirror and ask, ‘is my love - my experience- with and for this person, just a symptom of my fucking mental illness?’ let me tell you: that’s not a fun fucking feeling to sit in. and oh my god did i sit in it. so much mental laundry to sort that i’m STILL sorting. i’m still bartering. i’m still trying to fit a square peg in a round fucking hole. how do you separate the clinical and logical from the cosmic and spiritual? pro tip: you can’t.

and honestly, i’m too broken to try anymore. for any of it. i don’t want to hurt you. it hurts me knowing this might/will.

so which is it? am i right and an almighty powerful bad bitch who is psychic and connected to it all? or….. am i a severely mentally ill child trapped inside a 30 year old woman who suffers from grandiose delusions inside her fucked up head? my glib answer: both. i shrug tiredly. self awareness is a bitch and a half.

what we ‘are’ to each other will forever be unexplainable. maybe you agree, maybe you don’t. for me, this entire time has been me chasing that feeling — that fantasy — of what i felt/knew right at the start. that one day we could exist as just two people who just see lmk and know each other. without ever even speaking a word. am i giving this too much weight?

you’re overthinking again.

don’t worry, i can hear you say it too. to that i say you’re both right and wrong.

#Spotify #fine line lyrics #fine line instrumental #verbo s e #break up #twin flame

[kirishoshego]

Confidental Composition//Bakugo

!!!MINORS DNI!!! 18+ONLY !!!

This is the first part of my little 'Teachers Pet Series' (I will add the link once I got all parts covered and the right ideas).

Summary: A simple task fucked up late at night as you send the wrong version of a piece of homework to your English literature teacher Mister Bakugo. Of course, he would want to see you after class the next day. But not for the reasons you might think. Pairing: Docent!Bakugo x afab!student!y/n // Words: 4.2k+ Side note: Insert a friend or random name you want for X :)

TW: nsfw: slow burn (sorry), spanking with a ruler, hair pulling, being bend over a desk, calling him sir, spitting, choking, dirty talk, degrading, slight praise

„Write an essay about the worst description of a woman or coitus. In the essay, explain why it is bad and then rewrite it. At least 30 pages, max. 60 pages (sources and any other extras you please to include, excluded). Due Date: 8 weeks from now on, 35% worth of your end grade. Questions can be asked per E-Mail, or, if you must, I’m free every Wednesday afternoon for meetings strictly for this essay and this essay only.“

A sigh left your lips as you starred at the piece of paper for the tenth time today ever since he handed it out to you and your classmates. The options you had were endless, you knew so many bad pieces about both topics and could write more than 100 pages about them as well. Everyone in class you talked to had decided on their topic already, some were even further. It was X who told you to just write the topics on a piece of paper and let fate do its work.

Black ink on a badly ripped blue note decided that you were going to write about a sex scene. Just now that you thought about it, rewriting something like that for your professor to read was an awfully stupid idea, yet you decided to listen to a small piece of paper.

At first, you were going to go with Fifty Shades of Grey but you felt like the choice was chewed up and spat out. It took you three days to finally decide on a book and once you settled there was no turning back. Considering your ignited interest in this topic you weren’t surprised when you were done within the first four weeks. Knowing the editing is going to take another week, maybe even a week and a half, you decided to take a small break, just one or two days off. On your second day, you decided to visit the new coffee shop that had just opened up around the corner.

Never had you expected to see your professor near your living spot. You were about to greet him when you noticed his pissed-off expression on his face and only now did you spot the woman behind him. She grabbed his arm and made him turn on the relatively small and empty street.

„Suki you can’t be serious,“ she was angry and hurt, while he seemed to be angry and annoyed. Not much of a difference than to how you see him on the daily, to be honest. „Are you fucking stupid? Of course, I’m fucking god damn serious. It was your choice to cheat on me and now I choose to throw you on the streets where you apparently belong, go ask one of your little boy toys to take you in for all I care,“ you were frozen in place, not entirely sure what to do. Right now your eyes were glued on his chest that was clad in a tight, black pullover, rising up and down heavily as his nostrils were flared caused by his anger. „Because you gave me no choice! If you like that sort of weird, rough shit then paddle your own canoe! I need something soft and tender-,“ before she could finish her sentence he laughed. Cold and slightly maniac in a way.

„Then get some fucking chicken! If you don’t like how I’m in bed then break up with me and piss off but don’t send my best friend a nude to ask him to come over. Even a ten-year-old would see how stupid that is,“at that moment your eyes met. His eyebrows were furled together, red eyes expression furry and disgust. Blond hair usually styled like he was going to be on the cover of Vogue, like he had been before, now slightly messy. Plump lips slightly apart to let his teeth shine through slightly before wetting them with his tongue. Your eyes widened and before you knew what you were doing you waved at him, making him cock his eyebrows in confusion for a second before noticing it was you who he was looking at. Turning on your heels you walked past busy crowds of people as you walked back home, trying to understand what you had just seen and why your angry professor had turned you on more than anyone had done before.

It was a stupid idea to ditch the next teaching unit of his but you had absolutely no clue how you were going to look at him. You knew teachers had a private life themselves, but never would you have guessed that you would run into one of them in your small area. As far as you knew he lived across town according to the very, very few private stories he had shared in magazines.

„Dear Professor,

down below is my finished project as an attachment in form of a PDF. I know you request it to be printed as well and I had planned to hand it in today, but sadly I came down with the flu. I’m looking forward to attending your next unit in the following week.

Have a nice week,

Y/N Y/L/N“

Maybe he had forgotten that you were there already and you were worrying too much about it. You were his student, nothing more, nothing less. Bakugo could care less about you, right? The flu did go around a lot right now, so it wouldn’t be completely unthinkable that you were sick. Itching eyes signaled you that it was time to go to bed now, so you closed your laptop and went to bed, not knowing what the next day will hold for you.

X had waited for you at the main entrance the next day to give you all the information you might need and ask why you weren’t there, considering it was obvious that you had the flu for one day only. At first, you were hesitant to explain what you had witnessed, it was messy already and you doubt Mister Bakugo would want the fight to go viral at his workplace. „Just one of those days you know? I had my mind completely full and felt like crap,“ that was the best excuse you could come up with, a white little lie that wouldn’t harm anyone. „Glad to see you’re doing- Oh, hello Professor,“ X smiled at someone behind you. There was no need to turn around to know who it was, the scent of his very expensive and extremely beguiling perfume clouding your mind. „Hello,“ his gruff voice greeted your friend shortly as you turned around, met with his muscular chest. You didn’t expect him to be so close to you, but here you were, tilting your head slightly as you looked up to him through your lashes, feeling not just your cheeks growing hot. „Good morning Sir,“ your voice sounded a lot more confident than you were feeling. Bakugo clenched his fist around the fake leather of his bag, his red eyes starring right into your soul as you had no chance of escaping whatever was going to happen next. „Miss Y/L/N, just the person I was looking for,“ fuck. „You were?“ X and you said at the same time, but your friend decided to excuse themself after a single glare from the older man. „How may I help you, Professor?“ You asked after swallowing down the anxious feeling that threatened to rise. „I received your Mail yesterday, with the PDF,“ okay, why did he search you just to tell you he got your assignment? Was it that bad? „But I’m relatively sure that it was the wrong one, considering I doubt that you want your teacher to know that 'this shit is so bad, but I wouldn’t mind being bent over a writing desk like that' with a smirking emoji at the end,“ only when his finger pushed your chin upwards gently you noticed that it was agape, shame filling every molecule in your body as you already planned your escape out of this country. Nobody was near you to see the weirdly intimidating scene happening between you and your teacher.

„Also I know you didn’t have the flu. I don’t appreciate being lied to. Tomorrow five p.m. in my office, don’t be late or you will get in more trouble. Send me the actual version tonight so I can grade it. I won’t let something as unprofessional as this slide again, understood?“ You nodded, taking in all of the information given to you, and somewhat in all of this mess felt thankful that he was giving you a second chance. The man in front of you rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, ordering you to speak up. „Yes Sir, thank you,“ you sounded more confident than you felt inside. „Good,“ was all Bakugo said before he turned around, leaving you behind in the big hall dumbfounded and confused… And horny.

As if Chronos himself felt immense joy in your misery, minutes appeared to be hours and the panic inside of you only grew the closer you came to five in the afternoon. You tried everything, watching a show, listening to podcasts and audiobooks, reading a book you had put of for so long, went outside, cooked something, worked on another assignment, stopped yourself from destroying your hair, made the phone call you so desperately had put off and it’s still only ten p.m on the same day. How was that even possible? As you laid in bed you tossed and turned, the thought of your really hot teacher all angry, breathing heavily, his hands roaming your body. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when those thoughts turned into a very lucid dream, but when you woke up in the morning, already an hour too late to your first period, all you wanted to do was scream into your pillow.

Considering first class is canceled, you wanna go grab breakfast? X texted you.

Canceled? Checking your mails you saw your teacher had sent out a mail, excusing themselves and explaining they came down with the flu. A blessing in disguise. You let X know that you would meet up at the building and go grab something near it. Once agreed, you took a quick shower, a moment of peace given to you as water hit your body. There was no way you could do anything between your last class and the meeting with Professor Bakugo, so you tried to look your best possible for the next upcoming hours.

Suddenly time flew by and the closer you got the more you begged for a little bit more time, for him to postpone it, anything. But no, here you were, five minutes early and looking around to spot the blond man with no luck. „Miss Y/L/N. Step inside,“ you jumped slightly as his voice boomed up behind you, not expecting him to be in the office already.

Once you walked inside you were stunned about how clean everything was, no matter where you looked it was neat. His books were sorted alphabetically with marks between them to let him know when a new letter began. As far as you could tell he used cherry wood for his pieces of furniture, a big, black carpet in a corner underneath a small seating area, and some books placed on the table. Even his paperwork was stacked in order. Big glass windows allowed the evening sun to fall into the room, its warmness kissing your skin while you were seated in front of him, a big writing desk between the two of you, on it your work.

It was quiet for a short moment, before he leaned back in his chair, red eyes mustering you up and down which didn’t help at all. „What would you like to talk about first? Your assignment or the fact that you lied to me?“ Why was he so bothered by your lie? You knew plenty of students calling in sick every once in a while even though they aren’t. „I apologize for both of it. It shouldn’t have happened and I learned from my mistake,“ you were hoping that it would ease his anger a little bit but he seemed more worked up than usual. „Although I don’t understand why you are so angry at me for it? Plenty students lie-,“ „Yes, but they aren’t stupid enough to make it so obvious,“ he interrupted you. „I could care less about who’s missing my class, it’s their fault in the end if they decide learning is unnecessary. However you are one of my top students, I expected better from you. You could have excused yourself with no explanation. But you chose to add the feeble lie about being sick for what?“

You took in a deep breath, feeling as if another lie would be caught immediate, so you had no other choice but to tell him the real reason: „I heard the fight you had with the woman you were with, in the café, and I didn’t know how to react when I see you in your class,“ there was a small moment where he looked honestly confused before something clicked in his brain. „So it was you who I saw. What did you hear?“ „I can’t really rem-,“ „One more lie and I will lose my temper, don’t test me,“ shit, why was he turning you on so much right now. He’s your teacher for god’s sake and angry at you, this wasn’t the right time. „That she doesn’t agree with certain things in your private life,“ „Like?“ he knew you tried to talk around it, yet he wanted you to talk about, to see you embarrassed again, he liked that look on you. „The way you fuck,“ it was said before your brain could even comprehend the words, another apology laying at the tip of your tongue but his next question cut you off before you could say something else. „Why were you there in the first place? I’ve been there a few times and never saw you or any other student,“ he explained. „Because I live close by?“ It sounded more defiantly than you had wanted, causing your opponent to cock his eyebrow.

„I feel like you’re forgetting who’s the authority figure here,“ he walked up to his door, locking it before coming back. Now he was right in front of you, slightly sitting on his desk and the sleeves of his button-up shirt pushed up a little. „No sir, I’m sorry,“ „You see, the problem is, I don’t really believe you,“ with that he pulled you up, bodies pressed against each other, letting you feel his toned torso while the muscles in his arms flexed slightly.

„You lied to me once already, I think I have to teach you a lesson,“ everything happened so fast and you suddenly found yourself face down on his desk with his hand between your shoulder blades, the other one grabbing his wooden ruler. „If I recall correctly this is what you wanted right?“ His voice was low, slightly above a whisper as his upper body was pressed against your back while he pulled a few hair strands from your face. „Yes, but Professor I don’t think this is a good idea,“ your inner voice yelled at you, saying this was the best idea ever, angry that you possibly ruined your dreams coming true.

„Tell me to stop and I will do so immediately. Your choice. There will be no consequences if you worry about that,“ he reassured you, waiting for you to get up and run, but you didn’t and the current position allowed him to feel you clench your legs. „So?“ He asked again, the ruler in his hand basically burning with the anticipation of hitting your skin. „No, don't stop,“ you breathed, awaiting his next move.

„Good,“ with that he exposed your raised ass, your underwear the only thing between your bare skin and the wood that came down upon it, one foot raising in the air because of the sudden pain. „From now on if you say stop I won’t listen, you will tell me how you feel through colors. If it’s too much you tell me red and I will drop everything, understood?“ Another spank was delivered to the same spot.

„Yes,“ another one. You weren’t sure if he hit harder or if your skin turned more sensitive with every blow.

„It’s sir to you,“ you could feel him lunge out but shortly before the ruler came down he stoped, laughing slightly at your small jump.

„Yes sir,“ another one.

„You’re going to apologize every time my ruler paints your cute ass even redder, got it?“ You nodded your head, a moan escaping the back of your throat as he spanked you yet again.

„One more thing, be a good girl and stay quiet, wouldn’t wanna get caught now do we?“ He knew it was going to be torture for you to follow his order the more he continued and in a way he wanted you to fail. There was so much build-up inside of him and it appears that you were willing enough for him to use you as he pleased. That’s why you were his favorite. Bakugo knew what he was doing was wrong and he never expected to feel this way for one of his students but forbidden fruit tastes the best.

You stopped counting after the seventh blow, sorries, sirs and small whimpers fall from your lips as if they were your whole vocabulary. At one point you started crying, tears mixed with mascara running down your cheeks. He tried to remember something that turned him on more than the sight of your messed-up body with no luck. Everything build up inside of him, everything itching in his hands, the inner desires he had to soften for his ex, it all was going to come down on you. His thick girth twitched at the simple thought of finally being surrounded by your dripping wet cunt.

A warm soft hand rubbed over your bruised flesh while the other one found its way into your hair to pull you up to him, your back arched.

„What are you sorry for?“ Your mind was clouded with pleasure and pain, the only thought right now was the feeling of his dick print right between your sore cheeks. „I asked my little bitch a question, I expect you to fucking answer,“ this time he spanked you with his hand but it was just as intense as his ruler. „I don’t know,“ you breathed, a soft moan slipping out of you when his thumb barely circled your throbbing clit. „You’re just apologizing because you want me to use you?“ You could hear him chuckle lowly before he pushed your underwear to the side, his middle finger now playing with you. „Yes sir,“ Katsuki couldn’t hear a single ounce of shame in your voice and he wondered how long you had been thinking about him like this before.

„I never expected you to be such a dumb, cock hungry whore,“ The sound of his belt hitting the floor was dull like it was far away from you but at the same time, you felt him closer than before. Strong hands around your waist turned you around and once again he lifted your head with his finger underneath your chin, studying your ruined make-up as if he was memorizing every little detail he never wanted to forget. The blond, muscular man lifted you with ease, your behind getting a small moment of cooling as it hit his wooden desk.

Bakugo dried your tears slightly with his thumb, smearing it even more. „Only for you,“ you whispered and in that moment he couldn’t stop himself, he just had to kiss you. Not sweet and gentle, but passionately and hungry, like he was poisoned and your kiss was the antidote. The hand behind your head traveling to the front as you were laid down completely.

„If I had known before I would have fucked you so much sooner,“ with one hard thrust he was buried deep inside of you, one hand over your mouth because he knew you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet and the other one around your throat, squeezing shut and watching you struggle against it slightly. Your professor was thicker than what you were used to and you didn’t know how good it would feel until now. With the first few snaps of his hips, you knew you never wanted to feel something else anymore.

Your hands went to his arms and you tugged on them, causing him to let go as the blood found its way back to your brain. „Color?“ he asked, afraid you weren’t able to handle him. „Green,“ was all you could get out before another moan cut off your ability to talk.

„Good girl,“ he whispered into your ear, kissing down from your earlobe to your shoulder before sucking on a rather sensitive spot. Both of your wrists were held over your head with his left hand, with the explanation that he doesn’t appreciate being stopped while using you however he pleased. The right hand was going from between your chest after he admired your bouncing tits thoroughly, to your stomach to connect with your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Bakugo switched from circles to eights, from fast to slow, but the harshness of his hips never haltered.

„I know you wanna scream right now, but I can’t allow that. Can’t let others hear what a dirty slut you are for me right now. I promise I will fuck you in my house if you behave now. You can moan my name as much as you want. Or maybe I will gag you, watch you drool all over yourself. Maybe I will tie you up and edge you for an hour straight until you’re begging me to fuck you, you like the sound of that, huh? I can feel you squeezing around me,“ another chuckle left his plump lips as he watched you struggle to stay up on your feet.

„Maybe I will let you choke on my dick while I work on something for the next lesson. Gonna use you as my little cum dump. Let you think about it again when I talk about it in front of the whole class. Do-,“ you were so close when a sudden knock on the door startled you both, but he never once stopped what he was doing, if anything he went even harder, whispering into your ear to be quiet for him.

„Hey Kat, your ex is outside and says she wants to talk, want me to send her in?“ It was the psychologist professor Shinso, his voice as done and deep as usual. „No, I’m occupied,“ Bakugo saw your mouth open after you fought so hard against it, he couldn’t let you moan, not right now. He did the first thing he could think of, spitting into it and watching you swallow. Oh, he would definitely film you do this with his cum covering you everywhere and the thought brought him slightly closer to his release. „Still grading papers huh? I don’t get where you got all of that energy from,“ his voice was blurred out by Bakugo whispering into your ear. „Do you want me to tell you what we're doing right now? Let him know I’m fucking my little toy stupid right now?“ And while you were shaking your head no it was the last straw for you and you found yourself grabbing his hand to put over your mouth, biting your lips until you tasted blood to muffle the scream you couldn’t stop. Bakugo cursed under his breath when he could feel you throbbing around his dick and your nails digging into his arm. „Tell her to leave me the fuck alone, she’s already forgotten,“ his voice sounded strained and you knew he was close as well. „Ah, I see. Well then have fun,“ his laugh was fading away the further he went.

„Can’t believe that made you cum, you’re even more perfect than I thought, such a dirty girl, tsk,“ both his hands are on your hips and he pulled your body against him with every thrust. You were still coming down from your orgasm when you felt his thrusts turning sloppy before he stopped completely, his dick now pulsing while he was holding you tightly. Breath uneven and getting stable on his feet again he turned you around, careful so he wouldn’t hurt you.

„Next time I gonna make sure you can’t walk but right now I need you to be able to leave the building,“ he pulled his pants back up and added: „Sadly,“ before walking around his desk.

It was still hard for you to stand so you sat down, wincing as the usually soft cushion now felt like thousand of tiny spikes on your bruised ass. Before you pull your bottoms up again he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, once again with a stern expression on his face you were so familiar with.

„I apparently really fucked you stupid if you think I let you leave like this,“ having him put cooling cream on your bare bum felt more intimate than having him be balls deep inside you. „Sorry I just thought-,“ „Well, you thought wrong. I don’t know what kind of boys you had in the past but now that you have me there are going to be changes, got that?“

#bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugo katsuki smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bnha bakugou smut #bnha bakugo smut #mha bakugo smut #mha bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugo x y/n smut #bakugo x you smut #bakugo x reader smut #bakugou x y/n smut #bakugou x you smut #bakugou x reader smut #bnha bakugo x reader smut #bnha bakugo x you smut #bnha bakugo x y/n smut #bnha bakugou x you smut #bnha bakugou x reader smut #bnha bakugou x y/n smut #mha bakugo x y/n smut #mha bakugo x reader smut #mha bakugo x you smut #mha bakugou x y/n smut #mha bakugou x reader smut #mha bakugou x you smut #mha bakugo katsuki x you smut #mha bakugo katsuki x y/n smut

[pragmaton]

Geovan’s Proposition: Chapter 2

Hey! Pragmaton here. I’d like to start providing content on a regular basis, so I’ve been spending time creating a backlog of content (apologies for the wait). 

In the next several months, I will be trying an experiment. Though I enjoy writing for the gainer/encourager/admirer community, I want to be able to start writing part time (when you spend a significant amount of your free time writing outside of work, your passion is basically a second job). I hope to one day be able to write full time when (and if) I retire.

As a result, further chapters of my mainline stories will have a time limit on them. Main story chapters will be posted after three months, and short story vignettes will be posted to Tumblr after three weeks.

*takes a deep breath* at the end of the day, please remember that the content is still free, it just won't be available right away. If you don't want to wait that amount of time and wish to support my style of writing, it's 3 bucks a month on my Patreon under the name "Pragmaton."

Here are some upcoming projects on https://www.patreon.com/pragmaton :

Geovan's Proposition

Cyrus and Geovan continue to get to know each other, as Cyrus learns more about the God's powers and the place he will be living in the foreseeable future. An opportunity to meet other concubines and Gods will soon present itself.

Barasyte

The Palaematids, or PALs, are small, translucent parasites that have entered our atmosphere and scattered across the globe. They seek higher lifeforms with high levels of testosterone, so naturally they target young and older men. When exposed to water, the PALs mutate various orifices of their hosts (belly button, nipples, anus, penis, testicles, etc) into water-absorbing organs that can transmute H2O molecules into nutrients and physical mass, flooding the host's brain with serotonin as it does so. This soon causes a dependency on being close to water and needing to have sex more frequently. Our story follows a Patient 0 in North America who slowly infects his friends, where it quickly spirals out of control soon after…

Hog Mask

A possible one-off about a carnival themed escape room, in which all the participants must wear pig masks to escape. The masks begin to mess with their breathing and physical functions, every breath resulting in a loud snort or chortle, seeming to inflate their bodies a bit more with every greedy grunt and affect their hunger…

F.C. Patterson Foundation - Subject 343

A parody of the SCP Foundation series, a young guard is tasked with patrolling a low-security building filled with a variety of paranormal and abnormal beings, mostly harmless. Against his better judgement, the guard peeks into a warehouse-sized room, surprised to see nothing but a television and a beefy fratboy sitting in a couch, enjoying his beer. Whenever he looks away for too long, however, the young man is someplace else, and appears to be ever so slightly taller and wider…

Celestial Bodies

An ancient race of small to colossal intergalactic beings float aimlessly in space, groaning in pleasure as they helplessly absorb into each other, growing ever larger until they reach moon-size or even bigger. If they grow too big too fast, however, they rupture in a translucent explosion of energy, separating into billions of smaller beings. Fleets of human ships are sent out to speed up this process, stimulating the giants until they explode, making room for space travel. We follow a ship's officer who is called by his friend for a surprise, unaware that the surprise is a small intergalactic Being the friends decide to keep as a pet, but ends up resulting in BIG consequences for the crew…

And now, please enjoy Chapter 2 of Geovan’s Proposition, which is available to the public due to you all being so patient with me :)

- Pragmaton

**********************************************************

The world was crashing all around him. The cacophony of a thousand waves exploding made Cyrus want to cover his ears, but he could not move. The sound rang and echoed as he felt like his body was forced in every direction before violently colliding into something.

Eyes tightly shut, he could feel himself pinned there, unable to move. He held his breath for as long as he could, knowing the embrace of death awaited him, coaxing and cooing him to let the water fill his lungs and be done with it. Thinking of his family, friends, and village, Cyrus took a sudden intake of breath. Hopefully his place in the underworld would afford him the chance to see them again someday.

With a gulp of fresh air that was simultaneously a gasp, Cyrus realized he wouldn't be meeting with Hades this day. He gasped several more times, heart rate racing to provide oxygen to his entire body. He felt his legs go weak, but the force pinning him upright kept him from collapsing altogether.

Upright? His head was spinning while trying to orient himself. Yes, he was upright, he could tell by his toes brushing against a cold floor. As his eyes adjusted, he felt an undeniable warmth reverberating through his body, mitigating the shivers he felt from the icy ocean's grip just moments prior.

His eyes focused on something reddish brown...dozens of fibers littered the wall he was pressed against. The wall itself was a light tan and almost pliable; his hand, pinned inches from his face, clenched slowly around a mass of those fibers, feeling the soft give of the light surface.

A gruff chuckle above snapped Cyrus out of his daze, making him suddenly alert, heart beginning to race again.

"Easy little one," a voice said, slight tone of concern in those words. "I can feel the blood rushing through your veins from here. Such a fierce heart for one so small and young."

Recognizing the voice, Cyrus slowly began to tilt his head up. The flesh-color wall continued for two to three feet, bulging outward in a rounded arc. Geovan's wide, familiar face peered down at Cyrus between two grainsack-sized pecs, drooping outward to each side of the fleshy arc. Hardened nipples of size of clenched fists bobbed lazily at the furthest edges of those giant, soft mantits, just out of reach of Cyrus' hands.

He shook his head incredulously, trying to get his head back into the matter at hand. Geovan grinned widely, smile and chin almost entirely obscured by the curve of his massive pecs and belly, the latter of which Cyrus was currently being held against by a hand the size of a buckler shield. Cyrus seemed to melt helplessly, all fears and worries leaving him weak and exhausted.

The relief that washed over him must have been palpable on his face, because Geovan chuckled again while lowering his other hand down to Cyrus' head. He gently tousled Curus' hair with an amazing amount of control for such a large hand, using two fingers to lightly massage his scalp. Despite everything that happened between them, Cyrus could not help but feel warm and protected, held against a massive body that smelled of salt and sand.

"You held your breath quite a long time, my boy," Geovan murmured in a soft growl. "I'd say the length of time rivaled some of the best sea warriors I've known, many of them still thriving and training in Elysium as we speak. Just what I'd expect from the one I've chosen to be my concubine. Resilient, and toughened by my domain."

His smile broadened suddenly, swelling with pride like a proud father who had just witnessed his son finally learning to swim on his own.

Somewhat embarrassed, yet still indignant, gods be damned, Cyrus replied.

"So. You just watched me hold my breath, coming to terms with my own mortality and whether or not I'd see my family again."

Geovan's smile faded. Cyrus felt a sudden increase in warmth as the air stifled around them. The belly he was held against heated considerably, as Cyrus noted that Geovan's face reddened.

Oh gods, Cyrus thought. Did I not learn my lesson last time?

Cyrus cringed in his compromised position, waiting for the hammer to drop, either to be flung away or crushed against the massive paunch.

But it never came. Geovan's face remained impassive, though his reddened face remained.

"I can see...I still have a lot to learn about socializing with mortals. I...regret my actions."

He slowly lowered Cyrus to the ground, making sure to gently slide him down his belly so as to not accidentally drop him. Cyrus' toes touched the ground, as his hands leaned against Geovan's soft, yet massive underbelly for balance. Geovan was still naked, though his prodigious overhang that could fit a fully grown steer covered his genitals. Cyrus stared up, up, up at the nearly 8 foot tall behemoth when the realization hit him.

Geovan wasn't mad. He was embarrassed. The god's eyebrows were slightly knitted, as if worried, though it was difficult to tell initially. After making sure Cyrus was safe, he spoke again.

"After I thought I'd had sent you prematurely to the underworld, I was so relieved to see I had caught you before my... presence overwhelmed you. Seeing you, small and trembling against me, you looked almost peaceful. I didn't want to interrupt. I didn't realize you were holding your breath, although it seems I was a fool to think otherwise."

Geovan turned away suddenly, normal steps still feeling like stomps that shook the floor slightly. His gargantuan rump shook and jiggled, almost seeming to cause visual tremors of their own with each meaty shake.

Cyrus was so hypnotized he almost didn't notice the room he was in. His eyes drifted from the globular cheeks to the size of the chamber they were in. It was enormous! The ceiling was as tall as a temple's, making even Geovan's height diminutive in comparison. The ceiling was covered in pearl-white stalactites of uniform length, radiating in a swirl pattern outward. The impact was breathtaking, and the rest of the chamber did not

disappoint. Large weapons and armor pieces adorned one wall in the cavernous space, while another was decorated with the skulls of fantastical beasts, including one fanged monstrosity that Cyrus could have sworn was one of the hydra heads from legend. He was surprised that Poseidon would have had an opportunity to tangle with the divine beast before Heracles eventually put an end to it. If true, he'd have to ask Geovan about that tale when he had the chance.

Speaking of Geovan, he was making his way to one of the more banal walls of the chamber. The items stored on that side of the room were still fantastical, however. They were the kinds of furniture pieces that Cyrus would imagine a wealthy merchant might have in his home, though several sizes bigger.

A fantastical, beautifully ornamented bed, the height of which went up to Cyrus' chin, was set up against the etched, pearl-white walls. Squinting his eyes, Cyrus could make out etched figures in the walls themselves, reminiscent of tapestries detailing tales of heroes long past, wound throughout the massive chamber and into the ceiling.

Geovan stopped at a chest the size of a construction storage typically used to hold full-size logs. His body blocked nearly the entire gold and silver gilded box. He opened it and the sounds of rummaging reached Cyrus' ears.

"I'll have to let my official guard know that you have arrived," he said, neutrally. "Currently, there are no other accommodations…"

His words trailed off, turning to mumbles that were nearly unintelligible, which was difficult for someone his size to pull off. Cyrus curiously walked

forward, wondering what Geovan was looking for. His eyes widened when he saw Geovan pull out a full-size wooden bed frame like it was nothing, looking similar to the one Cyrus had back in the village. The next thing he pulled out was a matress, not lumpy with hay, but seemingly even on all sides, as if it were filled with the finest down.

Geovan's voice piped up, as if finding his train of thought again.

"I... realize this is still a lot for your mortal mind to take in. They say my brother has a rash reputation, but among the gods, my straightforward and impulsive nature is particularly raucous. It's very hard for me to learn from my mistakes until I've already made them, and by then it is already too late."

It was hard to miss the note of melancholy in those words. It dawned on Cyrus that Geovan took the time to research his living arrangements and needs ahead of their fateful meeting, just in case things didn't work out right away. He was giving Cyrus the option to refuse relations, until he was ready. Or perhaps never at all.

The EXACT opposite of what a god “known” for his rash and impulsive nature might do.

Cyrus took a deep breath, approaching the titanic being just as he pulled out an ornate nightstand and glowing conch shell to gently place on top of it. So focused was Geovan on setting the objects down carefully, lest he crush or damage them, that he didn't notice Cyrus placing a small hand on the back of one his titanic thighs, just below a drooping helping of asscheek. Geovan continued his task, unperturbed. Cyrus took another breath, and pushed into the thigh while squeezing the large, supple surface.

That got his attention. Geovan jumped, back arching, accidentally knocking over the nightstand and conchshell with a clumsy hand while spinning around. Cyrus skipped backward, just barely avoiding a large swath of belly swinging around that almost sent him flying. Geovan’s head stopped before the rest of his body did, the momentum sending the rest of his prodigious assets jiggling forcefully to one side, before swinging back and forth like a pendulum, before settling down. His face frowned upon Cyrus and the unexpected action, both shock and incredulity written upon his features.

Do I dare approach a god in such a way? Thought Cyrus. He knew there was only one answer.

He placed one hand on one of the lower lobes of Geovan’s quivering gut, and pushed. His hand sunk in, though he only made it a few inches before meeting resistance. Soft as it may be, the sheer magnitude of Geovan’s size made that soft fat still ridiculously heavy and therefore, firm to Cyrus’ tiny hands. He pushed even harder, wondering how long it would take before Geovan got the gist of what he was trying to do. He offered a small, secret smile up to the confused behemoth.

Realization slowly dawned on Geovan’s face. Still displaying a mix of genuine shock and surprise at the turn of events, Geovan took one massive, floor shaking step backward. He took another, being guided by Cyrus’ tiny hand that only registered as a pinprick on sensation upon his engorged and corpulent frame. The back of his knee felt the bed, and at this point, he slowly lowered his four-ton bulk onto the edge, as he let Cyrus “push” him onto it. He sat there, breathing heavily, not sure why he was so hot and bothered by this mortal taking this unexpected liberty with him.

Cyrus kept his hand on the giant mound of belly, feeling the tremors rippling against his fingers as Geovan sat down. The musk emanating from his nether region was deep and intoxicating. A different kind of ambrosia lay within. And unless he was seeing things, Cyrus could have sworn he detected movement underneath that godly mountain of mass, of a slumbering beast he had yet to slay.

Cyrus kept a mischievous smile as he looked up at Geovan's reddening cheeks, large lips slightly parted, shortened breaths coming out in husky bursts. His pendulous pecs heaved slightly as his excitement and heart rate rose.

Cyrus had the god of the sea struggling for air, pulled into the depths of his own desires for Cyrus himself.

But Cyrus wouldn't let him up for air; not yet. There was so much deeper they had to go.

"So, my lord," Cyrus began, as he playfully began snaking his hand under the sagging gut, toward Geovan's groin. "How do you think we should proceed?"

#fat fiction #macrolove #weight gain fiction

[weirdmageddon]

five years too late let’s analyze this. the commentary has gotten me back into gravity falls reigniting thoughts and insights i came to years ago

i love everything about this commentary in general it hits the points of humor, genuine analysis of the characters, but most of all im so glad hirsch addressed that the droid not detecting any fear from dipper here doesnt make any scientific sense because that was a massive CinemaSins moment for me

IDK the fact that dipper can fucking stand after an airship crash because theres a bigger threat at hand is literally one of the defining capabilities owed to adrenaline lol...... IM SORRY im a biopsychology student if i dont point that out iwill seethe and die because that was just . its a grudge ive held for a long time about this episode but didnt rant about because it was something so minor and i’m sure nobody would care.

i was 13 when this episode came out and i’m almost 19 now, i had a special interest in biology and i still do but now i’m actually having college classes in biopsychology so i can give my arguments more oomph now. and i have to say, now that i know more about the brain and autonomic nervous system the more this scene bugs me, if that was even possible. and it says a lot of dipper and ford’s relationship.

if dipper clearly wasnt calm before, why would he be now just because he’s put up an outwardly confident facade? before he was in the flight but now hes in the fight. my boy just rode on top of a spaceship by nothing but a magnet gun that could detach at any time if it failed and then the ship crashed, he sustained injuries, is in emotional turmoil because he thinks his uncle is Fucking Dead and the threat of a security droid that detects adrenaline is on his tail and produces a Big Fucking Gun in response to dipper saying “i hAvE a MaGNeT gUn” and hes screaming and has his teeth clenched but sure there’s no adrenaline coursing through his body in that moment i can totally believe that

when dipper asks what happened, ford says “the orb didn’t detect any chemical signs of fear, it assumed the threat was neutralized and self-disassembled” but i don’t think measuring someone’s heartbeat alone is particularly relevant in detecting ... chemical signs of fear?? they dont really tell you this shit but noradrenaline (and maybe adrenaline too if the acetylcholine from sympathetic outflow always activates the adrenal medulla??, theres two pathways) is always active in small quantities to make sure your parasympathetic nervous system doesnt slow your heart to dangerous levels on its own, regardless of your emotions. it’s just a homeostatic mechanism. your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems are CONSTANTLY modulating control of your organs on a see-saw, literally with every breath you take. simply standing upright causes specialized mechanoreceptor neurons in blood vessels to signal your brain to project signals to release catecholamines via the sympathetic nervous system to constrict your blood vessels so that blood is able to reach your brain and not pool in your legs. i have a deficiency in my body’s ability to adapt to this which is why i know so much about it. if i stand up my heart races to compensate. i’m not feeling fear, my body is just adjusting—albeit grossly and incompetently lol.

but what im saying here is that the security system is flawed. it’s a cool idea to have security droids detect fear, but in practice by detecting adrenaline, and not even directly by detecting the molecule itself—it’s done in a roundabout way by reading the heartbeat, could be a recipe for false alarms. like what if someone’s on beta-blockers. that’s not really an adequate way to measure “fear”; there’s so many variables that could interfere with the measurement the farther you abstract from what you’re really trying to detect. and besides, adrenaline is NOT just a sign of fear, it’s just for preparing the body for action. i know the sympathetic nervous system and adrenaline is constantly linked with the “fight-or-flight” reaponse to a stressor, but 99.9% of the time the sympathetic nervous system is used in your life is to balance out your parasympathetic nervous system to maintain homeostatic equilibrium for mundane things.

i think detecting amygdalar activation would be more efficient in detecting fear. the amygdala sends projections to the hypothalamus which then in turn modulates the autonomic nervous systems. but the amygdala is intensely activated specifically in response to a fear-inducing stimulus (it does activate in response to other emotions but they’re mostly negative and is most activated by startle and fear), and wouldnt be highly activated by many other confounding variables like measurement of the heartbeat could be. the amygala is one of the first stops directly from external stimuli.

to show you how integrated the amygdala is as the first step in registering fear after receiving input from sensory stimuli let’s look at the auditory-amygdala connection for example

see how the auditory thalamus projects to the primary auditory cortex and auditory association cortex? the cortex is where conscious awareness of what the stimuli is comes from. this is the “high road”. it goes sensing -> perception -> emotional response. but sometimes you can be startled without even processing what it is you’re sensing, like the startle response of an alarm or a phone ringing in a quiet house before you even register what it is. this goes sensing -> emotional response, without perception happening until after you’ve already felt the startle. that’s when it takes the “low road”. here’s a simplified version:

even if that were the case with these droids though it’s obvious dipper is still fearful on some level here. his body language, voice, expressions all give it away. for the amygdala, aggression isnt too off from fear so it would be detected equally.

the reason this is so important is because ford uses this as evidence for why dipper is special, “i did it?” “you did it. this is what i was talking about, how many 12 year olds do you think are capable of doing what you’ve just done?”

but like....did he really? i’m not saying this to shoot dipper down or make him out to be more of a wuss, he was incredibly strong-willed here and i dont want to take that away from him because it WAS growth on his part. but the underlying psychophysiological reactions of aggression and fear shouldn’t be that different and this was a total asspull. maybe the droid was so old that it fucked up. maybe dipper being covered in grime and dirt made it harder for the droid to measure the correct heart rate through photoplethysmography (im assuming since they use a camera and are non-contact).

and in all honesty everything i just said brings into question the interpersonal healthiness of ford’s judgements, what he thinks, his expectations, and how he communicates that. in this video alex already talks about how ford is projecting onto dipper. and i think ford may be projecting his expectations for himself onto people who are not him, and the fact that it’s on dipper here makes it far more unfortunate. you realize how much this boy idolizes ford, right? how much impressions matter? dipper even tells himself before he leaves in this same episode, “all right dipper, this is your first big mission with great uncle ford. don’t mess this up.”

even though it’s unstated, the implicit message dipper is perceiving from ford based on their dynamic is: “do you have what it takes for me to be proud of you?” and to accomplish this he must be like ford, even though he’s clearly not and he knows this. he says “i don’t think have what it takes. i was tricked by bill, i was wrong about stan’s portal, heck, i can’t even operate this magnet gun right.” then, by simple chance without even knowing what he did, he activates the magnet gun and pulls out the adhesive, which immediately takes the focus away from what dipper was telling ford about his feelings of inadequacy to ford saying, “yes! dipper, you found the adhesive!”

these thoughts of dipper’s hang in the air without resolve or comment from ford. we don’t know what ford would have said. but it then becomes painfully self-evident in the scene immediately after when the droids emerge and ford tells dipper, “they’re security droids and they detect adrenaline. you simply have to not feel any fear and they won’t see you”, to which dipper replies with an exasperated (and rightful) “WHAT?”

dipper goes in a panic trying to indirectly tell his uncle that this isn’t something he can do. and he is completely right and valid to be freaked out by that full stop. that IS crazy. you can’t control your fear. you can control how you interpret that fear in your higher brain regions but the physiological changes will stick around for longer than it takes to cognitively calm down. it’s easy for me to detach from my emotions to analyze them, but being able to do this does not come naturally for everyone. even i have an irrational fear of wasps and i can’t control it by detaching myself, my body is just automatically primed to get the fuck out of there. i know it’s stupid and i know it’s irrational and isn’t helpful to get myself worked up but i literally can’t stop how my body reacts no matter how i cognitively think about it. expecting composure from dipper in a situation like this when he’s being made to consciously be aware of his anxiety is absolutely fucking insane. look what you did, placing these cruel expectations on him, now he’s afraid of being afraid! this isn’t a case where two wrongs cancel out, they just stack on top of each other.

there’s a good reason these scenes were put side by side but it seems up until now it had remained unanalyzed.

what dipper fears from ford is disappointment. not living up to his uncle’s (quite frankly badly placed) expectations for a twelve year old with anxiety. not once did ford say or subliminally communicate “i don’t expect you to be able to do what i can since you are not as experienced as i am and that’s perfectly okay, no judgements”. you don’t put a child on bike before training wheels. you don’t throw a kid into a swimming pool without giving them swimming lessons. the way ford is doing it, there’s no room for trial and error or mistakes that are an opportunity to grow and learn; instead, it’s life or death. he only seems to pride dipper on what he can do while ignoring the underlying struggles that plague him and never making it known it’s okay for dipper to fail in front of his hero and that he won’t think anything less of him for it.

and that’s why i found the ending scene for dipper and ford’s adventure in this episode to feel so.. wrong. on a scientific and social level. because by the sound of it ford focused more on what dipper had done to dismantle the droid (the droid not detecting any fear) instead of how dipper displayed love and protection for him even if he was truly afraid. what if the science was accurate and the droid detected adrenaline while dipper was confidently standing up for his uncle. would ford still be proud of him regardless?

#can you tell how i’m similar to ford but also so different like i said in that other post lol #gravity falls #analysis #dipper pines #stanford pines #long post #gf #gravity falls meta

[nishiannoya]

ʜᴀɪᴋʏᴜᴜ!! ᴀs sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2

ft. Nishinoya, Kuroo, Lev, Tendou

f!reader, drugs, language, alcohol, and more talk of drugs, mostly fluff and humor, reader gets a sunburn/tan in the tendou story (4.1k word count)

۞ four more short stories based on experiences that haunt me from how stupid i was in my irl boy crazy days. meeting noya at a music festival. attempting to study with kuroo. lev is an observant pervert. some summer beach fun with tendou. 

(part 1)

۞ Noya - Galaxies??

Your friend is pulling you through the crowd at a music festival, eager to get over to the next stage so you can find your group before it gets too packed. You, however, are barely tethered to the earth as the music from the current stage makes you want to dance, making it even more difficult for your poor friend to navigate the crowd. You've never candy-flipped before, and will probably never do it again given how out of control your body and mind feels, but right now you feel nothing but bliss as you prance by faces and flash smiles at intoxicated strangers. It's like all the molecules in your body are singing you praises, telling you that you are captivatingly divine and there's no choice but for you to accept that love.

And then it happens.

Like a movie.

The sound fades.

Slow motion.

You turn your head, hair whipping gently against your cheek as you feel something magnetic drawing your attention. A pair of playful brown eyes take in your face and you watch in real time how the pupils expand into black holes, drawing you in with their inescapable gravity.

You take in his face. Cute. Different from what you would consider your type. Shorter too. But he's also kind of perfect. Dark, wild hair with a small bleached patch at the front. And something about him. Oh lord. That thing you search for in every man you come across. Boy-ish mischief and a heart of gold. Your eyes have only just met, but you know. You know.

It's uncontrollable. Your lips mirror his as you simultaneously break out into huge grins, and you feel your face shining just as brightly as his. When did you slip out of your friend's grip? You don't even notice because you're stepping closer to him, reaching out to grab the back of his neck with your fingertips and caress his cheeks with your thumbs. His hands find your waist comfortably. They seem nonthreatening and familiar in their placement.

"Hi," you say, because you're not too sure what else you can say while you soak in how nice it feels to be close to him. It seems right yet strange, like making a new friend and greeting an old one at the same time.

"Hi," he says back, his smile somehow growing even bigger and his eyes never leaving yours.

Do I know you? Have we met before? It's good to see you. It's nice to meet you. I think I've been waiting for you.

The words are lost in your mouth, but he leans in to press his forehead against yours, noses nearly touching. Something dormant activates in your brain. A blinding light fades to blackness as you feel like you're falling into your own body, but you're not alone. He's next to you as you watch a light show playing on the backdrop that is the silhouettes of your bodies scaled up to be a projection screen. You've been here before, but always by yourself and never realized you could let someone in like that. You stand still, comfortable just drifting within yourselves for all too short of a time.

Oh.

You're suddenly pulled back into your regular body as a hand on your should tugs you away. Your friend is calling your name, but you're still fixated on the familiar stranger as you break apart from him, fingertips slipping as if you know there's no holding on.

That's right. Not this time either.

Like two galaxies destined to collide. Dancing around each other in ellipses, arms just brushing past one another for millenia until they devour one another. You smile at him, knowing you don't really have a choice but to say goodbye again. You gently wave your hand and he smiles back and waves too.

Until we meet again in the next one.

۞ Kuroo - Sandpaper??

"Ew."

You're studying in one of your university's private study rooms, trying to balance a chemistry equation on the board with the only other person from your group still willing to study past midnight. Kuroo is tall, handsome, and messes with you in a way that makes you look forward to it. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have a big ol' stupid crush on him, although right now he's got some terrible stubble coming through on his jawline.

"You need to shave," you tease as you reach over and rub your thumb on his chin. Flirting is second nature with you two. Everyone hates the fact that you're not dating because you act so much like a couple that it's a disgrace to friendship. But it's always just kind of been a game that neither one of you want to call over, thinking the first one to make an actual move loses and it's done.

It's always been playful, so that's why you're shocked when he quickly grabs your wrist, spins you around, and pins you against the whiteboard with one leg pressed between your knees. He grins down at you smugly, not saying a word as he leans he face close to yours.

This is it, you think. This is where I teased him too much and now our game is over.

You close your eyes, face feeling warm as he pushes your wrists even harder above your head, erasing part of the work you just did. You expect to feel his lips on yours, but a shiver runs up your legs when you suddenly feel his cheek pressed flush against yours. Before you can voice your confusion, he starts nodding his head up and down furiously, rubbing his stubbly jaw and chin all over your face!

"Kuroo!" You yell between fits of giggles. He presses even more into you as he switches to the other side of your face. It feels like very shitty sandpaper, tickling your skin more than scratching it. You're gasping with laughter as you beg him to stop, but he only moves from your cheek down to your neck. You hope nobody walks by and kicks you guys out of the room for goofing off, but you can hardly contain your cries as he attacks your sensitive neck.

Just as you're becoming more and more aware of his breath on your skin, he pulls back and admires how irritated your skin is at his doing.

"Nope, not shaving," he says with a shit-eating smirk that pisses you off as much as it makes you wish he'd just smash his lips into yours already. But he lets you go and grabs his notebook and just leaves the room like he didn't just assault you with his pathetic beard, leaving you to wonder what the fuck just happened.

۞ Lev - Matching??

"Come on y/n! We're gonna be late!" Your roommate yells through your door as you're looking for a clean bra in your closet with a pounding headache from staying out at the bars until 3am. The only one you find is a shitty shitty rose colored satin one that you hate, but you sigh as you throw it on and a black crop top over it before you rush out the door.

It's an assembly for all extracurricular activities, apparently the partying at your university has gotten out of control once again and now everyone gets to be mass lectured on a Saturday morning. You sleepily apply some cherry chapstick to your lips as you sit with your club members, and the rest of the bleachers in the basketball gymnasium fill up.

"Hey! Y/n-chan!" You look behind you and smile at the familiar faces.

"Morisuke-kun, Lev-kun!" You say as you greet your friend on the men's volleyball team and his freshman friend that you met a few times before.

"This sucks. 80% of the people in here are hungover and still reek of alcohol," Yaku gripes.

"I totally saw you at the bar last night. You were singing to the girl at the pizza window," you jab and he just scratches the back of his head and looks away.

"What about you, Lev-kun? Did you and the other volleyball boys go out?" You ask as you turn around more to look at him. His beautiful green eyes blink at you for a moment before he registers that you're talking to him. He's pretty cute, but you like to stick to your guideline of only playing around with guys in your year.

"Oh, I stayed in last night," he says with a blush. "But my friends on the soccer team are having a party tonight! Are you going?"

You think about it for a moment, house parties not being your thing so much anymore now that you could go out in the town. However you do remember checking your bank account this morning and feeling a sinking feeling when you realized how much you spent last night.

"I might swing by if the roomies are down for it," you say and his little smile makes your heart flutter more than you want to admit.

You hear the assembly start as the whole gym echoes with a microphone screech, causing a collective groan amongst you and your hungover peers. You turn back around in your seat and tie your hair up to combat the oncoming hot flash you know is coming as your stomach gurgles unpleasantly. As the speaker's voice starts to grate on everyone's eardrums, you drop your head into your hands, feeling your shitty shitty bra strap fall off your shoulder. You grumpily reach into your shirt and snap it back further up to prevent it from falling again, unaware of the eyes behind you that are glued to your actions.

The assembly drones on past the 90 minutes that was promised. Blah blah blah your future employer is gonna see those pictures of you at an ABC party and never hire you blah blah blah here's a free uber code. You didn't even realize you were practically half asleep until your roommate's shaking your shoulder telling you it's time to go.

"See you tonight y/n-senpai!" Lev says to you as he and Yaku wave you off. Your roommate gives you a look that you roll your eyes at despite thinking the tall boy is cute.

You nap most of the day and make a pathetic attempt at studying for all but 30 minutes. When nighttime rolls around, you realize that you forgot to do laundry during the day and are stuck with the same shitty shitty bra from before to wear under your tank top. Your roommate convinced you earlier that the soccer house was the right call, because in her words, if you're not going to climb that Russian beanpole, she will.

When you arrive at the party, you immediately remember why you hate house parties as you see two lacrosse players beating each other up on the front lawn with a circle of cell phones getting it all on snapchat. It's only 10:30pm. You scowl at the juvenile behavior and make your way around to find anyone else you may know or maybe the keg. You find a non-crowded area on the back porch where you could reach into your pocket to apply some more cherry chapstick as you look around at the people.

"y/n-senpai!" You turn your attention at your name and see Lev hilariously draped all over Yaku, who's struggling to hold up his lanky friend with his short body.

You giggle as he pushes himself off Yaku and stumbles his way over to you and puts his arm around your shoulders for support once he reaches you, though you probably offer even less stability. You instinctively wrap an arm around his waist and grab onto his wrist with your other hand to help him stand better.

"I can't believe you're here!" He slurs excitedly and you can't help but to giggle at the cute flush across his cheeks and nose as he flashes all his teeth at you.

"Lev's super drunk already," Yaku sighs as he walks up to you two and Lev playfully waves his hand in front of his face as if to say that he's not.

"I can see that," you say as the tall boy starts to sway against you.

"He's been very excited to see you," Yaku teases, to which both you and Lev tense up a little bit. Lev reaches out with his arm that isn't around you and pats Yaku on the head with a large hand, and you can almost see the shorter man's anger meter rise and fall.

"I need more to drink if I'm gonna deal with you," Yaku grumbles as he lifts Lev's hand off his head and shuffles off to go find his stash of liquor, leaving you responsible for Lev's ability to stay upright.

"Senpai," you hear Lev mutter and you realize that he's playing with your fingers at his waist. He leans on you some more and looks down at you with green eyes shining and sincere. Your face feels warm under his gaze that keeps dropping to your lips. Definitely endearing how obvious he's being, especially when compared to guys who like to play games.

"Um," he stutters and you can see he's turning even more red. Fearing that he might have drank too too much, you urge him to sit. You find a somewhat damp wooden bench, but it'll do as you carefully sit down and guide Lev down with you.

"You're wearing it," he mumbles, still leaning against you, but his eyes are closed. "The bra from earlier today...matches your lips...same color..."

You whip your head at him, eyes going wide, and feeling your entire body chill at his words. His eyes are still closed, but a satisfied smile sits on his lips.

"Couldn't stop thinking about it all day..."

You stare at him incredulously, not knowing how to respond, or if he's complimenting you or being a total pervert. You look down at your shoulder and sure enough the shitty shitty bra strap had fallen down again. You consciously pull it back up and then touch your lips with your fingertips, wondering if all boys noticed things like that, or if Lev is just particularly observant.

"There you are! Someone called the cops because of the fighting! We gotta go now," your roommate demands as soon as she spots you. You stand up and realize that Lev is passed the fuck out completely. Thankfully Yaku finds you and says he'll take care of him. You worry for a moment, but it seems like he has a lot of experience in dragging around the larger boy's body as he hustles out the back gate quicker than everyone else.

You and your roommate make it home safely and you immediately hole yourself in your room, ripping your bra off and throwing it your bed while wiping the cherry chapstick off with the back of your hand. You groan into your pillow once you flop onto your bed as you try not to think too deeply about Lev's weird comment. You spot the bra as you turn your head to the side and think maybe you won't throw it away.

Maybe I'll save it and give it to Lev-kun after I graduate, you snicker to yourself before falling asleep.

۞ Satori - Love Bug??

To be honest, you came out for Semi when he texted you that he was going to the beach with his teammates. But he and the other guys were deep into a game of volleyball, and while it was nice to respectfully look at the toned bodies glistening under the summer sun, you were left pretty bored guarding everyone's towels and holding down the spot.

"Found you!"

You look up from the book you're pretending to be into despite having to reread the last paragraph three times as your brain keeps floating off. You smile at the newcomer, one of Semi's teammates that you’ve briefly met a few times at parties.

Tendou Satori is all lean muscle, oddly cute, and is the type to always keeps the conversation going from what you've noticed of him, but you never really talked with him one-on-one. He unrolls his towel and you're surprised when he lays down right next you instead of joining the rest of the guys in their volleyball game.

"Whatcha reading?" He asks as he leans towards you to look at your book. His shoulder touches yours for just a second and you feel like a little girl from how giddy it makes you feel.

"It's about the connection between ayahuasca and DNA and what we can learn from Amazonian medicine," you say with a smile, hoping that it doesn't sound to weird or pretentious.

To your delight, his face lights up and he starts to tells you some psychedelic stories of when he forced Shirabu to take acid with him at Disneyworld that have you laughing in stitches. You're telling him your mushroom journeys when you realize that you hardly know him, but he's so fun and easy to talk to when you're usually quiet around people you don't know well. Something about his smile and playful red eyes makes you feel excited and at ease simultaneously.

You both decide to cool off in the ocean for a little bit, though you suddenly sink down to your chin after you walk past the shoreline ledge. Tendou kindly offers to let you hold onto his shoulder since he can still touch the bottom, which you gladly accept after 30 seconds of treading water. You two chat energetically about cartoons and comics, your face right next to his as you rest your chin on his shoulder from behind. You're careful not to let your body press up against his, though you'd be lying if you said you weren't thinking about wrapping your legs around his waist and holding onto him that way. Still, you get a nice close up view of how cute he looks with his bright red hair slicked back with saltwater that makes you pretty much forget about Semi playing volleyball on shore.

As you two decide to get out of the water, you keep talking about the shitty treatment of female characters in anime. Even though you don't care if he cares, you'll rant about it to anyone who'll listen, you're pleasantly surprised when he agrees with you and goes off on his own tangent about it. A fond smile plasters itself to your face as you listen to him with dreamy eyes, finding yourself thinking that he's kinda perfect.

When you get back to your towels, you start to reapply your sunscreen as you feel the intense summer sun scorching your shoulders. You offer some to Tendou and say you'll get his back if he gets yours. You know you're flirting with him, and you do feel a little guilty when another guy invited you here, but it's not like you're spoken for.

He happily accepts the opportunity to rub some lotion on you. You blather on about your travels and dreams to live on an island, which distracts you from paying too close attention to the way his fingers tickle across your skin. When he's done, you tell him to lie on his stomach so you can swing your legs over his lower back and find a seat on his tailbone. Your position is suggestive, especially in your blue bikini that's a little cheekier than the others in your drawer, but you're not the type to see something you want and not plant the seeds for getting it.

You listen to him talk about the places he wants to visit as you squeeze a generous amount of sunscreen in your hands. He's got a few cute freckles on his shoulder blades that you take note of as your palms work their way across his back. It shouldn't take you so long to apply the lotion, but you keep applying more making up the excuse that you're just looking out for his pale skin. You chat about music and concerts as you trace little hearts around the freckles through the excess sunscreen, enjoying the warmth swimming under your skin from the summer amplifying whatever this new feeling is.

You eventually remove yourself from his back, plopping down on your stomach next to him and resting your head in your arms. You peer over your arm at him and meet his eyes doing the same, the sun feeling particularly hot on your face. He pokes your elbow with his which makes you smile and scoot just a little closer to him. Your faces are so close as you lazily ask him to tell you more about doing drugs at theme parks. He's talks animatedly of tales of brownies gone wrong at Six Flags, and when they forced Goshiki to go drinking around the world at Epcot and almost threw up on Snow White.

You're not sure how much longer you laid there just telling each other dumb things. Eventually you notice a shadow blocking out the sun on your face as you hear Semi's voice say your name and says they're leaving. He asks you for a ride home and shoots Tendou a look that has you worried for a moment about what you might have started. You agree to give him a ride and gather up your things to go along with everyone else.

Tendou's car is parked one space over from yours with a big creeper van between. You wave goodbye to him as Ushijima and Reon load their things into his wagon, making sure to give him a shy lingering smile before opening your door.

Semi's already in your passenger seat while you work on brushing the sand off your legs. That's when some voices catch your attention.

"Trying to hit it with y/n? You know Semi's got a thing for her," you hear Reon say on the other side of the van.

"It's not like they're dating," Tendou's voice sounds slightly annoyed. "And I'm not trying to hit it. If anything, I think I might have gotten bitten by the love bug."

You bite your cheek to not make a sound as you quickly scramble into your car. You let out a breath and take another deep one to try and quell your spike in heartbeat. Semi asks if you're okay, you try to fight the heat creeping into your face as you tell him yes, and turn up the radio so you don't have to talk as much on the ride to drop him off. A lot of girls like him, understandably with his good looks, nice demeanor, and many talents. You sigh as you think any other girl would just go for it.

An image of Tendou's playful red eyes comes to mind and you feel more drawn to his wildness. Even though you spent just a few hours talking to him, you know that there was some kind of connection there. Still, you chat with Semi for just a little bit before you reach his place. He does at least apologize for leaving you alone after inviting you, but you say it's fine because talking to Tendou was fun, to which he just kind of grumbles.

When you get home from dropping off Semi, you immediately go to take a shower. The day replays in your head as you scrub away the salt and sand. Remembering Tendou's "love bug" comment makes you squeal like a little girl that echoes off the tiles of your shower. A stupid smile won't rid itself from your face, but you don't really care.

You hum to yourself as you step out of the shower and check your phone. You're surprised to see an instagram notification saying you've been tagged in something. When you open it up, you nearly drop your phone. Your face burns bright red at Tendou's shirtless selfie, tongue sticking out and his back on display in the mirror behind him and the little hearts you drew in the sunscreen earlier glowing bright red against his skin. Marked by the hottest of the summer 🔥 it reads underneath.

You practically melt to your bathroom floor and giggle to yourself in sheer giddiness. You keep looking at the photo, only able to take short glances or else you feel like your heart might explode and blood will gush from your ears. The DMs are coming in from your friends, but you ignore them as you wrack your brain for what to say to him.

Slowly you emerge from your position on the floor, and that's when you catch it. You spin your back to the mirror fully and feel yourself getting overwhelmed when you see the faint palm-sized heart on your shoulder with three little lines coming out of each side - a love bug burned into your skin.

ADULT CONTENT BLOG - Minors / Ageless & Blank Blogs are allowed to like and comment on this post, but please refrain from reblogging, and ABSOLUTELY DO NOT FOLLOW OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

#f!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #noya x reader #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya yuu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #lev x reader #lev x you #haiba lev x reader #tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou satori x reader

[fatelesschild]

Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology 6: The Respiratory System

A worryingly comprehensive and extremely unofficial guide to Gallifreyan and Time Lord/Lady Anatomy and Physiology, constructed with love and sweat.

This is a project that attempts to draw together everything we know about gallifreyan anatomy from every source available to place it in a valid biological system, like some Grey’s Anatomy textbook you didn’t know you needed.

The author of this has no affiliation with the BBC, and owns nothing but this lovely chocolate bar and good intentions. Nothing in this guide should be taken as de facto and everything should be free to be challenged and changed. I welcome any comments, questions, points of interest, or corrections - just aim at my ask/inbox.

Absolutely nothing in this guide constitutes professional medical advice. Always seek your human advice from a healthcare provider, and always seek your gallifreyan advice from a hospitaller on Gallifrey.

This is version 1.10.x See the main document or Tumblr masterpost for the latest version.

x Tumblr masterpost

x Main document with sources (Google Docs, not optimised for mobiles)

x Tumblr tag page with Q+As etc.

x Glossary

The Respiratory System

AKA Don’t get mad, get breath.

Contains:

Context & Anatomy

Process - Nose, mouth & throat, The Kaizegea, The Lungs, The Pulmonary Network

Respiratory Bypass - How it works, Drawbacks

Injury, Disease & Healing

Sex, Age & Regeneration

Summary

Key: [External link] [Guide link] [Glossary link]

Disclaimer: I’ve gotta put an extra disclaimer here, because as the respiratory system of a gallifreyan is completely unique and unlike humans, my creative liberties have been slightly broader in trying to explain it. Absolutely nothing contradicts Doctor Who lore, but just be aware I’m having an anatomical field day trying to explain a lot of this.

6.1 Context & Anatomy

As with humans, gallifreyan cells require oxygen and glucose to chemically react for energy, with carbon dioxide as the waste product of this reaction.

The gallifreyan respiratory system is structurally recognisable to humans, but is independent of their circulatory system and has an extra organ.

Most of the attributes of the respiratory system are the same as humans (ie. they breathe through their nose and mouth and not something weird and alien like their ears or butt).

As with everything else, the system is incredibly efficient.

Unlike in humans (where the respiratory system is best buddies with the circulatory system and relies on blood to transport oxygen around the body) the gallifreyan respiratory system is an entirely independent network, consisting of pulmonary tubes which run alongside the circulatory, nervous, and lymphatic systems like a 4-lane motorway.

As with us, it predominantly involves the nose, mouth, lungs and the rhythmic contraction and relaxation of the diaphragm, also with an extra gallifreyan organ known as the kaizegea (below).

The lungs are the driver, pulling in every single molecule of oxygen available in the atmosphere and expelling hostile or unuseful atoms with absolutely no waste whatsoever. As a result, gallifreyans have a far lower respiratory rate than humans as they only require around ¼ of our demand; anything from 3-10 breaths per minute is considered in the normal boundaries for a gallifreyan. In short, they can keep going in some low-Oxygen atmospheres without even using their respiratory bypass.

The Water Lords

As a bonus (or a detriment?) for having a large pulmonary network running through their bodies, gallifreyans are very buoyant in water. This can be controlled consciously by the gallifreyan through the nervous system, releasing hormones which direct the body to reduce the amount of oxygen it uses, or by the partial use of the respiratory bypass to achieve the same effect much quicker.

6.2 Respiratory Process

In order to explain this, we’re going to be framing it with the journey of Carby and Oxy.

> Carby is a carbon atom, and Oxy is an oxygen atom. They’re best friends, and together they make up a two-person gang called Carbon Monoxide. People like them when they’re apart, but combined together they’re right little s**ts. One day, Carby and Oxy decide to go out, and are inhaled by a passing gallifreyan through the nose.

6.2.1 Nose, Mouth, and Throat

The nose, mouth and throat of a gallifreyan are pretty much the same in their look and function as humans when it comes to the respiratory system. The nose and mouth both inhale and exhale as per usual. The larynx itself is no different to a human structurally or in its function, however, gallifreyans have slightly better control over their larynx. This is due to their slight advantage in muscle constitution, meaning they have greater control over their laryngeal muscle. This results in not only potentially lovelier singing voices, but also excellent imitation abilities, should the gallifreyan have enough spare time to practice.

The only big difference is in the trachea. In humans, the trachea has its own internal smooth muscle, and as well as this the gallifreyan trachea contains a voluntary circular-shaped muscle that opens and closes the trachea, situated at the top of the trachea under the larynx.

This muscle allows the use of the respiratory bypass system and provides excellent control over breathing. In medical terminology, I would have to call it the ‘superior tracheal sphincter’ (I know, I know, but that’s what it is …).

> The gallifreyan is not currently using their respiratory bypass, so Carby and Oxy whizz right down the trachea to arrive at the kaizegea.

6.2.2 The Kaizegea

Literally meaning ‘the cleaner’, this extra organ sits between the lungs at the bottom of the trachea. It's a small high-powered pink spherical organ. All air going in and out needs to pass through the kaizegea before it’s allowed into or out of the lungs.

Basically, the kaizegea is a nightclub bouncer and it won't let in any troublemakers or more people than the club can accommodate. It’s a filter - it examines everything that’s being inhaled and makes a quick decision (based on conversations with other systems) on where each atom inhaled should go.

If it inhales oxygen it sends it to the lungs.

Anything deemed useful will be sent to the appropriate body system to be utilised.

Atoms which can’t be used (because they’re hostile or not needed) stay in the kaizegea waiting to be ousted on the next exhalation.

It also has the ability to break down molecules into their constituent atoms and salvage their parts for use. However, this is a process that cannot be used indefinitely as it requires a little more energy than respiration actually gives the body. The usual gallifreyan body expects roughly 0.2m3 (300 litres) per day to function normally. Prolonged stays in hostile atmospheres which contain less oxygen than 0.3m3 will eventually cause the oxygen in the gallifreyan’s body to run out.

>Carby and Oxy arrive at the kaizegea. The kaizegea takes one look at them and knows they’re a pair looking for trouble. It knows both are currently useful for the body so it splits them up immediately, sending Oxy to the lungs and Carby to another body system.

6.2.3 The Lungs

On a glance, a human anatomist could be forgiven for thinking a gallifreyan lung belongs to a human teenager - although externally similar, due to the sheer room constraints of having two hearts, the lungs in a gallifreyan are noticeably smaller than in humans (around ¾ size), but this doesn’t make them less efficient.

The respiratory system has two very clever cell-types in the lungs.

>Oxy, still sobbing for the loss of his best friend Carby, arrives at the lungs. The receiver cell is happy to see him, and tells him not to worry - Carby’s got his own jam going on. The receiver cell instructs Oxy to join with the 5th carrier cell type-A in line.

>The carrier cell type-A greets him and tells him to hold onto one of his free receptors. Oxy notices that clinging onto the other receptors are more oxygen cells, chatting happily, but they’re all in pairs and he’s alone. Soon enough, another lonely oxygen cell arrives, and Oxy reaches out to take his hand. With that, the carrier cell type-A is filled and they head on down through the pulmonary network.

6.2.4 The Pulmonary Network

Once a carrier cell type-A is filled, it flies down into the pulmonary network and begins to circulate, waiting for a part of the body to ask for oxygen. Once a cell calls out for energy, the carrier cell type-A will drop off O2. Once all its receptors are emptied, Type-A will head back to the lungs to fill up with oxygen again.

Meanwhile, the X1 blood drops off some glucose to the needy cell. The oxygen and glucose react to make energy, with CO2 as the waste product. A passing carrier cell Type-B with an empty receptor picks up the waste CO2. Once all the receptors are filled, Type-B heads back to the lungs to get everything exhaled. Rinse, and repeat.

>Oxy clings onto both his new oxygen friend and Carrie-A for dear life as they cruise the network, until a cell asks for some energy. Carrie-A lets go of Oxy. Oxy stays in the cell until the glucose arrives. They react on meeting, producing energy for the cell. Oxy dies with the glucose, and in his stead Carboxy (CO2) arrives. Carboxy grabs onto the nearest carrier type-B cell and rides back to the lungs to be exhaled.

6.3 Respiratory Bypass

6.3.1 How it works

Contrary to popular belief and gallifreyan colloquialism, the respiratory bypass system is not a system as such. It’s not a magic alien special ability - it's a learned skill and survival technique which can be used by any gallifreyan, requiring practice and excellent control over multiple body systems.

It allows gallifreyans to survive in hostile atmospheres with little or no oxygen content. The initial activation of the respiratory bypass is triggered by the contraction of the tracheal sphincter to shut or partially shut the air channels for both the nose and mouth. This leaves the pulmonary network still operational, but with utterly no intake. This makes gallifreyans resistant to all forms of inhalation issues such as gas (and bad smells, since they’ll lose their sense of smell!), drowning, and hanging, but still allows them to move and speak as normal.

Now, the gallifreyan plays a very dangerous game.

In order to minimise their use of oxygen, their body needs to slow down as much as possible. All systems need to ride the line - powering down to minimum while still retaining enough power to allow the gallifreyan to move and speak. This means reducing their hearts rate and blood pressure in order to minimise the body’s demands. By overriding the autonomic brain they have several options for this - they can partially close their heart valves and constrict their blood vessels to reduce blood pressure, and manipulate the nervous system in various ways to lower the demands of the body.

After shutting off their breathing and reducing their body’s demand, they are forcing their body to use the remains of the oxygen in their system, drawing out every molecule of oxygen available. As CO2 comes back to the lungs, the kaizegea splits the molecule up, grabs the 02 and sends it straight back to the lungs to be reprocessed. This state can last up to a period of roughly 20 minutes, however, speaking and physical exertion will reduce this time to around 12 minutes (these times are entirely dependent on the skill level of the gallifreyan).

If unable to escape the compromised atmosphere, the gallifreyan can enter a trance to lower the demands of the body even further. But if the fuel runs out, the gallifreyan will suffocate and die.

The effectiveness of the respiratory bypass system allows a gallifreyan to stay awake and alive in a vacuum for 3-6 minutes, and 30 minutes in an unconscious state, however, this length of exposure will have its own consequences in the form of potential blindness.

As this is a learned skill, Timegri tend to be better at controlling this system due to their academy training. Either way, any gallifreyan using this technique will end up lethargic and nauseous owing to the reduced oxygen, and will probably need to sleep to recuperate. Some supplemental oxygen will also help to reduce any ensuing headaches.

6.3.2 Drawbacks

The respiratory bypass is impossible to activate without the second heart due to the amount of physical stress it causes and the manipulation of the hearts involved.

It is also not completely foolproof - a sudden shock or jolt will cause the gallifreyan to gasp, exhale their retained oxygen and inhale the potentially toxic atmosphere or water.

6.4 Injury, Disease & Healing

This is injury, disease and healing specific to the respiratory system. For a wider explanation see the immune system.

6.4.1 Injury & Disease

The denser layer of hyaline cartilage in the neck is minimal, but makes gallifreyans resistant to trauma and actually able to talk while being strangled by someone who doesn’t understand gallifreyan anatomy and hasn’t placed their hands high enough.

Despite this extremely efficient respiratory system, Gallifreyans are resistant, but can be affected by altitude sickness. This is because of ‘physics, physics, physics’ - things will always move from high pressure to low pressure, and as with us, the pressure inside the gallifreyan’s lungs from the deoxygenated cells travelling back to the lungs to be exhaled can sometimes be higher than pressure in high altitudes, making it much more of a chore to breathe.

The gallifreyan immune system is so adept it is highly resistant to most common respiratory diseases including influenza and pneumonia, to the point they are basically immune - there is an extremely small chance they can be infected but they will either be asymptomatic or have no lasting repercussions.

Large doses of any gas will overwhelm the kaizegea and leave the gallifreyan at risk of exposure. In these cases, the only hope is to activate the respiratory bypass system. For example, some chemical warfare agents can filter through into the lungs, such as mustard gas, which will probably knock out the gallifreyan (but in the case of mustard gas most gallifreyans will eventually overcome it after a period of sickness). There's also the danger of Praxis gas, but I'll let you find that out from the immune system!

6.4.2 Healing

Anaesthetic gases will have an effect on gallifreyans most of the time, but the amount required is 1.5x the normal human calculated dose. Timegri are even more resistant, requiring 2x the human calculated dose. However, great caution must be taken as some anaesthesias will severely impair the ability to regenerate and increase the severity of Post-Regenerative Trauma (link to be added).

The Detox

The respiratory system has a close link to the immune system via the kaizegea and also the digestive system using the lymphatic network. It’s able to use its carrier cells to absorb hostile molecules from inside the body and exhale violently in what is known as a detox.

Detox is another biological trick for Time Lords, where they fool the immune system by causing a significant chemical reaction to occur inside the body and force the immune system to take rapid action. There are many options to start a chemical reaction to trigger a detox, but the easiest reaction comprises sugar and protein (amino acids).

In order to trigger the detox, the gallifreyan must first raise their body temperature by the voluntary contraction of the blood vessels’ lining of muscles and increasing hearts rate to heat up their core temperature as much as possible. The high concentration of sugar and protein causes what’s known as the Maillard effect. In such staggering amounts, the Maillard effect causes a huge surge of acrylamide (a carcinogen). With their insides literally turning to burnt steak, the gallifreyan body panics and resorts to emergency measures - available respiratory carrier cells type-B grab all the molecules and atoms from every single place it possibly can and forces the carrier cells and their dastardly hangers-on out through the mouth and nose. It’s basically throwing up for the respiratory system. This will leave the gallifreyan breathless for a short while, but recovery will be quick.

Substances such as gingerol in ginger beer increase the potency of the reaction in gallifreyans, while the salt absorbs the heat, preventing internal burns from the sheer heat of this reaction.

6.5 Sex, Age & Regeneration

6.5.1 Sex

This is sex specific to the respiratory system. For a wider explanation, see the basics main section.

Those with more masculine hormones will develop a larger larynx (voicebox) with thicker, longer, and looser vocal cords, causing deeper voices through slower vibrations. Feminine lungs also tend to have smaller volume, and they also have smaller airways. This makes no functional difference when at rest, but while exercising feminine lungs will run out of breath quicker.

6.5.2 Age

This is age specific to the respiratory system. For a wider explanation, see the basics main section.

As with everything else, full maturation of the respiratory system occurs at age 100-200, remains strong for around 700-800 years, and then starts to rapidly decline.

The kaizegea will slow its decision-making process.

The receiver cells will struggle to find carrier cells.

Carrier cells will move more slowly around the pulmonary network.

The respiratory bypass system also becomes less and less reliable as the gallifreyan ages. It results in the use of the ability causing an older gallifreyan (past the age of 900 years in a single body) not being able to restart the normal breathing process. In these cases, regeneration is inevitable.

6.5.3 Regeneration

This is regeneration specific to the respiratory system. For a wider explanation, see the regenerative system (link to be added) main section.

Environmental factors during the regenerative process can have a significant impact on the gallifreyan’s next body - regenerating in environments with particularly high levels of moisture in the air can cause breathing issues in humid environments.

6.6 Summary

The respiratory system is highly specialised in gallifreyans and independent from the cardiovascular system.

It contains some extra features, including the tracheal sphincter and the kaizegea.

The gallifreyan system aims not to leave any waste, but in some cases it can be overwhelmed.

The respiratory bypass is a handy get-out for any Doctor Who writer, but does cause significant physical strain to a gallifreyan body.

Other minor bypass systems involve the endocrine system.

Rejected evidence:

Made into a better explanation regarding biological enhancements of the cartilage

Gallifreyans also had a respiratory bypass system, which allowed them to survive strangulation

I’m aware of this and I have an idea, but you’ll have to wait for me to do the regenerative system. For now, just know it’s there and I’ll deal with it.

‘Gallifreyans have got multiple organs of virtually everything. They have 2 of most of the organs that humans have only one of, and 4 of the organs that humans have only two of. Some sources say the have only one liver, others say two’

Curious about something? Need some creative gallifreyan biology-related advice? Wanna say hi? Ask away!

#my god this was intense #probably a LOT more on this #please enjoy #fcgallifreyana&p #gallifreyan biology #gallifreyan anatomy #doctor who #time lords #gallifreyan #anatomy #gallifreyan physiology #dw meta

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Recording...

my lovely friend @bopbopstyles and I have collabed on this piece for you all! we hope you enjoy this as much as we did writing because we were a mess and freaked out when coming up with this

please leave feedback! we’d love to know what you all think of this <3

rated r (ofc); 4.1k of smut and filth

The door swung shut behind the producer for Calm, leaving you and Harry alone in the Shangri-La bus. Harry had spent five minutes when you arrived just examining every inch of Bob Dylan’s old bus, mumbling to himself in awe. Over the past few hours, you had sat in the corner as silently as possible and listened to him read his Sleep Story, the project he had been so excited about from the moment he was asked to participate.

He had told you multiple times that if you were going to come you had to stay quiet, and you rolled your eyes and told him you’d been in the studio with him before, you weren’t a complete novice. So you had sat in the chair at the front, a strawberry margarita in your hand (who cared that it was barely noon?) and listened to Harry’s voice from the recording booth. The whole reason you wanted to go was because you adored listening to Harry’s voice when he read--he had been practicing for you and every time you ended up pushing the script away and straddling him. This time was no different. Hearing your boyfriend read the script did the opposite of put you to sleep, instead it stirred every molecule in your body.

Your eyes hadn’t left his body in the past few hours, tracing over his black t-shirt clad body, the hat perched on his head, the little smile on his face when the producer took a photo on his phone for promo. Your legs had ended up smushed together, thighs rubbing to release some of the tension that gripped your body as time went on.

And now, finally, you were alone.

Harry had asked for a bit of extra time, he wanted to practice the bits he was struggling with, and so the team had left, told him they’d go pick up some lunch and be back in an hour. He was sat in the recording booth, headphones around his neck as he mumbled his lines, lips pursed as he scratched a note in black ink.

You stood and Harry’s eyes locked on yours as you took another sip of your margarita, the straw caught between your red-stained lips. You purposefully sashayed your hips as you made your way across the bus to him, knowing that it made him hard. Maybe it was cruel, but you didn’t care. You needed him, desperately.

“Hi,” he said when you reached the recording booth, just a few feet away from him.

Instead of responding, you set down your margarita on a stool and closed the distance between you, your legs falling on either side of his hips as you straddled him. “Hi.”

His hands crept up your thighs, your exposed legs in the white denim shorts burning up from his touch. “What did you think?”

You pulled the denim cap off his head, the one he adored and you always made fun of him for (lovingly, of course), and placed it on your head, arms draping around his neck. “You know what your voice does to me,” you said, leaning in so your lips brushed at the stubble on his jaw. You played with the hair that fell on his neck; hair getting a bit longer, and you loved it. There was a bunch where you could tug a lot of it, and he loved it as well.

His fingers squeezed your skin, bare knuckles not quite giving you the feeling you craved, but it would do. Since quarantine he had stopped wearing his rings everyday, not feeling the need, but you missed them--the metal cutting into your skin, cold against your hot skin when he touched you. “Yeah?” He asked, breathless in the room. “Did I get you wet, baby?”

The prospect of torturing him was becoming more enticing by the second, so you decided to roll your center against the tent in his pants, the groan that fell from his mouth making you smile. “How about you check?”

His head dropped to your neck, nipping at the skin. “Going to be the death of me, you know.” But that didn’t stop him from pushing aside the denim covering your crotch, the underwear underneath it, and swiping his fingers to your slit to feel you. “Dripping for me, love,” he said, panting against your skin. “Is it all for me?”

You sucked at his jaw, pulling at the skin with your teeth. “All for you, H.” Harry moaned in response, loving the feel of your mouth on his skin, and that added to your arousal.

His naked hands roamed your thighs, missing the cool metal touch against your skin. “Missed you wearing your rings. It’s been a while huh?” You say against his ear.

“Yeah? Missed having my rings on ya? Liked feeling them when I grip your hips while I fuck you?” He responded back in a dominant tone.

“God, yes. Missed them. Need you to wear them again,” you pleaded. His hands gripped your thighs hard, and you wished his rings were on so the pain was a tad bit more.

You felt his hands back on your inner thighs as he teased you by running a single finger against it. “Let’s get you out of these shorts, shall we?” You instantly nodded before you got up out of his lap, and stood in front of him.

Harry looked up at you and smiled before he lifted your shirt to expose a bit of your skin, and placed small kisses to your stomach. Your hands found his hair as you scratched his head lightly. The impatient mind that you lived in was begging him to just rip your clothes off and fuck you already, but you knew Harry loved to tease you.

And as if he was reading your mind, he looked up at you again and smirked. “Can practically feel you tensing up. You can never be patient, can you?” You chuckled a bit, knowing he was right. He could read your body like his favorite poem, memorized and recited. He popped the top button on your shorts, and mumbled about making it hard for him as he made his way down the buttoned fly, your smile dancing across your face. He pushed your shorts down, underwear coming with them, and you stepped out of them with ease, fully bare from the waist down for him.

“No one is coming back, right?” You asked, straddling his lap once again, voice breathless as you rolled over his white and black grid linen pants that you knew you were ruining but you didn’t care. And Harry didn’t either. He loved it when you ruined his clothes, when he had traces of you all over him, as if it was painted on a masterpiece in an art gallery.

His hands drifted up your back, pulling your shirt up as they moved. “Not for a while,” he mumbled when he revealed your breast, mouth attaching immediately to your nipple.

Your head fell back, reveling in the feeling of his wet lips on your skin, fingers scratching at his scalp and threading through his locks. A harsh tug when he nipped at your skin had him smirking into you. He loved you like this--desperate and breathless for you, squirming on him.

But you wanted to touch him. You might desperately be seeking relief, but more than anything you wanted him in your mouth, to suck him off in his seat in the recording studio, to taste him on your tongue.

So you pulled away, body leaving his lap, a look of confusion on his face. He wanted you back, your body and your touch on his hands never leaving your hips as you stood. But then you knelt, knees on the rug on the floor, and he smiled lazily down at you.

“Please let me touch you?” You asked sweetly, fingers ghosting over the zipper of his pants.

“Yeah?” He said breathless, eyes blown out at the sight of you on your knees for him. “Wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, unzipping his pants and pushing them down past his knees. “Only for you.”

His hands tucked into your hair as you pulled down his boxers, trained on your every movement. Sex with you was always good, but you on your knees, the prospect of your mouth on him--it never failed to have him on the brink immediately. “God, you look gorgeous,” he mumbled, fingers brushing against his sensitive cock. His eyes fluttered over his hat that you wore on your head, it crooked since it didn’t quite fit right. It was his favorite, but so were you, so it seemed only right for you to wear it. “Love it when you wear my things. Look so much better on you.”

You look up at him, a devious twinkle in your eyes. Then your mouth fell open, obedient and waiting, and Harry knew immediately what you wanted. He bent, fingers gripping your chin, and let his spit drop into your waiting mouth. You kept it there, rolling it around with your tongue, and then you dropped to his cock and opened your lips, letting the mixture of his spit and yours drop over his sensitive tip.

Harry’s head lolled on his shoulders, the combination of the sight and the cold feeling making him hiss. But he lifted his head back up, not wanting to miss a moment. And when your mouth dropped down, he tugged on your locks, the feeling of the back of your throat causing his vision to blur as you continued to bob your head on him, slicking his cock with your saliva. His tug on your hair is hard, slightly guiding your head as you sucked him.

“Fuck, baby. That's it,” he groaned out in pleasure. “Keep doing that. Mouth was fuckin’ made for me.” His praise caused you to moan around him, and stimulated the sensation from your mouth to his cock. Your cheeks hollowed, sucking him harder as your hands moved to fondle his balls. Harry chanted your name as if it was a prayer, like it was all he knew; praising and bowing down to you as you took care of him. His name or anything else he knew, flew out of his head and the mere image of you was engraved in his mind and your name was printed on his lips. He was yours; completely and utterly yours.

Harry felt pleasure all through his body, and he had to lift your head off of his cock, which made you whimper. You looked at him with a pouty face, wondering why he stopped you. “Sorry, baby. Had to see your pretty eyes for a moment. Didn’t know if it was my innocent little angel sucking me.”

“I’m not innocent if I’m sucking you good,” you huffed.

“Hmm, that’s debatable. Are you going to let me lick you up now?” The pool of your wetness had built up from having his cock in your mouth, and you wanted nothing more than to have his tongue on you.

“Thought I was an angel?” You teased, fingers trailing down his t-shirt clad stomach. “You’re the one making me naughty.” He laughed, loving the way you challenged him.

“Oh, baby. We both know you’ve been naughty this whole time. Don’t go pointing fingers now. Now be a good girl and get up here.”

You did as he asked, the two of you switching positions so this time it was you sitting in the seat, legs wide for his shoulders to slot between your thighs. His hands teased you, fingers running over your soft skin as he made his way down, lips creating a torturous line from your collarbones to your navel. When his knees finally rested on the ground he squeezed your inner thighs, pushing them farther apart, so he could have you spread open wide for him.

He loved being like this--staring at you, completely ready and waiting for him, vulnerable, panting his name. His thumbs dug into your skin, probably leaving a bruise for tomorrow, but he knew you didn’t mind. “So pretty,” he murmured, eyes traveling up your glistening slit. “All ready and waiting for me, huh, baby? Were you thinking of me earlier and I got you all worked up?”

“You know it did,” you said, stomach clenching when he finally brushed your sensitive flesh with his index finger. “Fuck, H, please.”

When you begged he was putty in your hands. “I’m coming, sweetheart,” he said, and then he bent forward, tongue licking a solid stripe up your slit. The moans and whimpers that left your mouth as he began his torturous assault on you were music to him, echoing in the studio perfectly. He loved going down on you, having you fall apart in front of him from just his tongue and fingers. He twirled his tongue around your clit and then sucked, your fingers tugging on his hair but he didn’t stop. Instead, he dipped into you, humming into you when you whimpered at the intrusion. It was exactly what you needed and he knew.

One of his fingers pressed to your clit and you saw stars from the combination, bucking into his mouth and pulling at his hair so he was as close to you as possible. He laughed, the vibrations against your flesh sinful. You wanted to come, you wanted to find release, and he knew it. He could see it in how you arched up, panted his name, pulled at his hair and his skin.

“Want you to come for me,” he said, pulling his tongue from you and replacing it with two of his fingers. The feeling of you stretching around them had him considering the feeling of his dick inside of you, and he tried to hold back the urge to palm himself. “Can you come for me, love? Want to feel it. Want to taste it.”

“Mhm,” you murmured, eyes barely open as you looked at him. “Almost there.”

He knew exactly what you needed. His hand fell to your pussy in an instant, the harshness of the impact making you jolt, the pleasure of his hands on your skin. It wasn’t too much, just enough to make your nerve endings seize, your hips roll into his fingers, so they nudged your back walls. And when he curled his fingers again, you were coming around them, bucking into him over and over again, hands on the seat to keep your body up as you rolled through your orgasm.

“There you go. That’s it,” he rubbed your pussy lightly as you were coming down from your high. Your whimpers and moans were replaying in his head, only amplifying his need to fuck the life out of you, but the taste of your peak on his fingers was enough to hold him over. “You’re so good. So pretty when you cum.” He kissed your inner thighs before leaving a trail of wet kisses that lead up to your lips. As you took control of your breathing, he captured your lips with his, and you could taste your orgasm on his lips. The filthy thought of your lips smashed together along with the sweet and saltiness of your cum only increasing your arousal. And you couldn’t get enough of him. In fact, you wanted more. You wanted him to fill you up immediately.

“Mmm, Harry…” you said in between kisses.

“Yeah, baby?” He responded, but not letting it distract him from parting his way with your lips. And as much as you loved his lips, you needed more. You physically pushed his shoulders slightly, making him frown. But what you said had sparked something in his eyes.

“Fuck me. Hard. Right now.” The eye contact between you and him was intense, gazes trained on one another. Passion poured through your veins as you looked deeply into his green ones.

His strong arms lifted you up and you clung onto him until you felt the rug below you as Harry hovered over you. He rocked his hips a bit, as he grazed his tip against your slit, and just the slight movement drove you wild, pants leaving your mouth immediately. “Gonna fuck you so hard. That’s what you want right?” His mouth is met with the skin of your neck as he nibbled on your slightly sweaty neck.

Your hands clutched his shoulders, fingers digging into the tattooed skin you adored. “Yeah, that’s what I want. You’re gonna fuck me so good, aren’t you?” He pulled his head out of your neck and looked you in the eye to see you biting your lip, innocently. His breath was heavy as the erratic beating of his heart heightened.

“Oh yeah, gonna make you feel so good,” he said, and without warning, pushed into you and stretched you out, making you moan loudly. You were so wet that it didn’t hurt in the slightest, instead it felt heavenly to finally have him inside of you. His hips rocked slowly, and if it were any other day, you’d say he was making love to you. But it wasn’t any other day. It was a day of want, need, and lust. It was a day when he was going to completely destroy you.

Harry’s thrusts quickly began to quicken, hitting the spot you craved to be hit when you were listening to him record the audio. He had found his rhythm and he wasn’t going to stop. With every thrust, your tits bounced and you held onto Harry’s arms that were planted beside your head. Your back began to sting a bit from the rug below you, but the pain was worth it for the man above you.

His head bobbed as he slammed into you, sweaty hair falling into his face. His cap that you had stolen was a forgotten memory on the floor, having come off when he laid you down. “Feels so fucking good,” he groaned as his pelvis continuously met with your clit, making your stimulation even better.

“You’re so big, holy shit,” you moaned out, throwing your head back onto the carpeted floor. Your hips had a mind of its own as you started to buck your hips into him, meeting his thrusts. Sliding your legs up his sides, you tightened them around his waist so the angle changed, both of you moaning in appreciation.

His lips met yours, pulling a deep kiss from you as he pushed in and out. “Only I can make you feel this good. I’m the only one who can see you like this. Tell me, my love.” His praise kink was coming in hot, and you loved it. You never failed to tell him and praise him for his own sanity, but you meant every word as always.

“Only you, H,” you breathed, fingers curling into his skin. “You’re the only one who can fuck me this good. You’re the only one I want to feel inside of me. Only you. I’m fucking yours.” Your words had taken him on the edge, close enough to let go, but he wanted you there with him.

He sat back on his knees, and you immediately missed the closeness when he was hovering over you. But then he lifted one of your ankles to his shoulder, pushing deeper inside of you and your hands tightened on him, head pushing up from the deepened thrusts. Harry placed his thumb into his mouth, lubricating his finger before placing it onto your sensitive clit, circling your button. Your moans got significantly louder, your sounds echoing in the small bus.

You were right there, and as Harry continued thrusting into you and rubbing your clit, you were on edge, about ready to fall over. You needed just a bit more, and you knew he could give it to you without a question.

“Close. So close.” Your words were music to his ears as he patiently waited for you to be close.

“Yeah?” Harry pulled on your clit suddenly and your hips bucked up. “What do you want, baby?”

Your eyes fluttered shut for a split second at the thought of what you wanted more than anything. “Words,” you whimpered. “Talk to me.”

He gave you a brutal smile, one that you knew meant he would be reminding you of this plea for days to come. “Want me to talk dirty to you? Hmm? I can do that, love. C’mon, pretty girl. Cum for me, yeah?” You nodded, tears on the brink of your eyes from the pleasure, the sound of his voice overwhelming your senses; and by the look in your eyes, Harry knows you’re going to have a powerful high. As he continued rubbing your pussy, his other hand grabbed one of your breasts, twisting and pinching your nipple.

The walls of the small space had swallowed your moans of your orgasm, back arching off the floor as you tried to keep your eyes on Harry, but the pleasure took over causing you to shut your eyes.

After a few more thrusts, Harry pulled out, instantly missing his presence inside of you, and moved to straddle you. “Open your eyes for me, darling. Please.” You opened your eyes slowly, finding him above you, stroking his glistening cock. “Open.” You immediately opened your mouth wide open as Harry directly shot his cum into it, making sure not to get in your eye. His head is thrown back, moans filled your ears as you gladly took his orgasm into your mouth.

Your tongue rolled through his come, tasting the sourness that you knew to be him and adored. Slowly, you swallowed, letting the liquid fall down your throat as Harry gazed at you in awe. He watched your lips as you slowly opened your mouth, letting him see that you had swallowed every single drop.

Harry moved off of you, and laid down right next to you on the floor; chests heaving and skin sweaty. He looked at you, noticing you had a bit of a mess on your lips, making him smirk.

He took your face into his hand and turned your head towards him before he took his thumb and grazed your lip that had some leftover cum on it. He slowly and sensually cleaned your lip as he pulled it back slightly, thumb covered in his orgasm. His thumb entered your open mouth, and you immediately wrapped your lips around it, licking and sucking his finger for the remains of his cum, lolling around his digit.

“Fuck,” he exhaled at the sight.

You opened your mouth, and he pulled his thumb away, giggles leaving your lips. Slowly you sat up, searching for your shirt, the possibility of someone coming back soon hitting you. Then, your eyes fell to the mixing table.

A red blinking light stared back at you.

“H,” you said softly, frozen at the sight, “they didn’t stop recording.”

His head turned on a swivel, eyes widening at the sight. “Fuck fuck fuck.” He scrambled to his feet, tugging on his boxers as he moved to the mixing table. Then he turned to you, teeth on his lip. “I’m going to have to tell them to just split the track at the time mark when they left.”

“Harry!” You pulled on your bra, desperate to cover yourself. “I can’t have the fucking producers for Calm listening to us have sex on the ground!”

Despite his best intentions, a chuckle left his chest and you frowned at him before pulling on your shirt. “Not going to let ‘em listen to it love. Gonna have them send it to me.”

You stopped moving and looked at him. “Send it to you?”

“Mhm.” He bent down, hand curving around your jaw. “Didn’t think I’d let someone else listen to us, did you?” He kissed your lips softly and you let him--you loved his kisses more than anything. “And then I’ll get to keep it for later. When I’m on the road and miss you.”

You smiled, finally understanding. “At least then you won’t have to wake me up in the middle of the night when you can’t come.”

“S’mean,” he said, frowning. “But at least it’ll be studio quality audio.”

You whacked him playfully, and he yelped before handing you your underwear and shorts. “Shut up and let me get my clothes on. And you’re putting lotion on my ass later--got carpet burn, you menace.”

He kissed the top of your head and handed you your shorts. “You just want to feel my hands on you again.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Please,” you scoffed, “like you’re complaining.” Harry threw his head back and laughed loudly; one of your favorite sounds to your ears.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not complaining.” He placed his lips near your ear, whispering the words just for you. “Just wait till we get home because I’m putting my rings on this time.”

And you knew you had a long night ahead of you.

feedback is always appreciated!

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles dirty imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #boyfriend!harry #1d ff #harry styles writing #harry styles ff #harry styles one direction #hs #fine line #harry styles calm

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (2/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Tyalor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,223

Summary:  Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day's work on the  Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

II.

—

Jamie laughed. 

It wasn’t the best reaction, but it was an honest reaction. Sometimes in life you just had to laugh. With deep incredulity. 

“I have a hard time believing you -” she gestured towards Dani, blonde-haired, pastel-silked, wide-eyed damsel in distress Dani, “- killed a Jedi.”

“I told you,” Dani insisted with a scowl which spoke volumes regarding how she felt about Jamie’s reaction. “It was an accident.”

“Even as an accident. No,” Jamie corrected, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Especially as an accident. Do you know how hard it is to kill a Jedi?”

“Well, I -”

“Don’t answer that. Because you’re wrong. Because you don’t know.” 

Jamie pushed herself to her feet and crossed over to her bedroom. She shook her head and muttered to herself as she pulled out two pairs of pajamas from the drawers built into the wall. “Killed a Jedi. And I bet Telos has a moon now, too. Fuck’s sake.”

She began to strip down to change. Never mind that there was no wall to protect whatever virtue she had left. That had all gone out the window long ago. The Temple wasn’t exactly a place that left one with their dignity intact. Not when she’d spent her years crammed, tip to tail, in every other padawan’s space. One quickly learned to grow accustomed to the notion that ‘personal space’ was non-existent. 

“Can’t you go into the bathroom to do that?” she heard Dani ask from the couch, sounding exasperated.

“Too late,” said Jamie, tugging the baggy shirt over her head and adjusting the soft elastic band of the pants around her waist. “Already done.” 

She tossed the small mining laser onto a table without any care if it actually landed there or not. She smacked another panel on the wall, and her dirty boilersuit got shoved down the laundry shaft that flipped open. She closed it with her knee, then scooped up the other pair of pajamas on her way back to the couch. 

“Here.” Jamie tossed the pajamas onto Dani’s lap. “We’re roughly the same height. Should fit you fine.” 

Dani started slightly when the folded up fabric hit her legs. She stared down at the pajamas — the shirt dark-washed and splashed with a loopy neon print for Figrin D’an and the Modal Nodes — and her fingers slowly curled around the cloth, gripping it tight. She was so quiet that Jamie frowned.

“Hey. You all right?” 

“I know,” Dani whispered, almost too soft to hear. 

“What?” 

“I know how - how hard it is to kill a Jedi.”

Jamie opened her mouth to reply, but the words died in her throat. Dani’s hands and shoulders were shaking. 

“He just - He grabbed me in the transport, and then I - I don’t know what happened but he was suddenly on the other side of the cabin and -” Dani continued, her voice ragged and raw. “He drew his lightsabre and started yelling, and he kept looking at me like he was terrified and I didn’t - I was so tired and my head hurt - my head hurt so much. I couldn’t - I didn’t mean to - to -”

A broken note escaped Dani then, and Jamie just stood there, feeling like an asshole while a pretty woman started crying on her couch. And not the nice cute kind of crying, either. Soon Dani was pressing her face into the pajamas and trying to muffle great hitching sobs into the fabric, her whole body trembling. 

“Okay,” said Jamie and she hesitantly reached out to pat the top of Dani’s head in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. One of Dani’s hands clutched at the hem of Jamie’s shirt like it was a lifeline, and she pressed her head into Jamie’s stomach so that Jamie could only stand there awkwardly while a stranger cried her eyes out and made a mess of it, too. 

"I'm so tired,” Dani mumbled again, when the sobs had faded away into sniffles. “I’m so tired."

At some point Jamie had placed a hand on Dani’s shoulder, and her other hand had begun to absently stroke through her golden hair. "Okay. All right. Let's get you to bed.” 

It took a bit of gentle convincing to get Dani to her feet. Jamie prodded her towards the bathroom to change and wash up. By the time Dani emerged, Jamie had already dug around in the closet for a spare blanket, which she was now tossing over her legs while she made herself comfortable on the couch. 

Dani’s eyes were still red-rimmed, but the blotchiness had gone from her cheeks. She filled out Jamie’s pajamas better than Jamie ever did, and she blinked at Jamie from the doorway of the bathroom. 

“You don’t have to -” she started to say. 

“Just take the bed,” Jamie sighed. She lifted her hand and waved it for the motion sensor, and the holo feed turned off. “Be warned. I wake up early for work.” 

Dani nodded and made her way uneasily towards the thin mattress, pulling back the sheets. “Do you -? I mean - Am I supposed to stay here while you -?” 

Jamie spoke through a yawn and burrowed down into the lumpy couch cushions. “Dunno. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” 

Another wave and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. With no light pollution bleeding through the barred windows, the little apartment was a mass of shadow and shapes looming in a jungle through the night. Jamie could have manoeuvred through it all with her eyes closed — and had many times before — but she heard Dani shuffling around before the mattress finally creaked. 

Jamie shut her eyes. She tried to tell herself that it was a night like any other night. She tried to pretend that it was a day off tomorrow, and she had indulged in too much drink downstairs at Ho’kyn’s, that she had only managed to stumble to the couch, half dressed, before falling asleep to the dull sound of the holo feed. Except the presence of another person in the room was too unfamiliar to ignore. Dani tossed and turned. Every time Jamie thought she had managed to slip away into sleep, another shuffle of the blankets would jolt her awake once more. And worse, Dani started crying again at some point. Quietly. But not as quietly as she probably thought.

Jamie groaned. She scrunched up her face and pressed a spare pillow over her head in an attempt to block out the noise. 

It was going to be a long night. 

—

There was a dip in the cushions, as if someone had just pressed their weight against the couch. It was the first thing she noticed apart from the cold. Shivering, Jamie blinked awake blearily, her back sore, her hair a mess, her brow furrowed in confusion. Even through the blanket and the warm spring night, she could feel an icy edge cut near to the bone. It took her a moment to register where exactly she was. That she had fallen asleep on the couch. And that there was someone kneeling over her, holding a lightsabre to her throat. 

That certainly got her attention. She was definitely awake now. 

A kickstart of adrenaline sent her heart hammering into overdrive. Every breath plumed from Jamie’s mouth and nose in little bursts of white steam that clung to the cold. Jamie had to quell the urge to flinch, to move in any kind of way that might end with her neck a gaping cauterised wound. The lightsabre hummed gently. She could feel the heat of it against her skin, and she winced when she swallowed reflexively. 

The blade was the only source of light in the apartment. It drenched the air with a deep crimson haze. Dani was crouched atop her, hands holding the lightsabre steady. Her face was illuminated in a wash of red light, and her eyes — both her eyes — gleamed an eerie unblinking gold through the night. 

And with a smile that never touched her eyes, Dani slashed the blade down in a single fluid motion.

Jamie jerked awake with a gasp. She flailed against the blanket that had tangled around her legs in the night, and in an attempt to clutch at her throat, she nearly toppled right off the couch and onto the floor. Managing to catch herself before she collapsed in a graceless snarl of limbs and blanket, Jamie scrambled to her feet, fists up, ready to punch the absolute living shite out of some air molecules. When it was clear there was no present danger, she kicked the blanket away and reached up to feel at her neck.

Her unblemished, completely lightsabre-free neck.

Still breathing heavily, Jamie looked around. Sure enough, Dani was sound asleep in her bed, curled up beneath the sheets in a tiny ball, her mop of blonde hair barely visible.

Jamie closed her eyes and tilted her head back to breathe towards the ceiling in relief. Just a dream, she told herself. Just a really vivid fucked up dream. Running a hand through her dark unruly curls, she trudged off towards the bathroom. She didn’t bother being overly quiet while she took a shower and pulled on a fresh set of clothes for the day — a supposedly sweat-resistant pair of leggings and undershirt to go under a Corps issued boilersuit — and yet when she emerged from the bathroom Dani had not stirred in the slightest. 

Jamie twisted her damp hair into a messy half bun at the back of her head; it wasn’t long enough for anything else. Then she zipped up the boilersuit to midway up her chest. Grabbing her work boots, Jamie sat on the other edge of the bed and stomped her feet into them one at a time. 

“Hey,” she said, not unkindly but not softly either.

Behind her Dani stirred somewhat, the sheets shifting as she rolled over with a wordless grumble. 

Jamie bent over to tie up the laces of her boots. “I’m going to work. There’s food in the fridge. Don’t leave the apartment unless you want to be spotted.” 

No response. 

Sitting up straight, Jamie leaned over and gently poked Dani’s shoulder. “I need an affirmative. Or I’m going to keep annoying you.”

That earned her a sullen noise. “Yeah. Okay,” Dani mumbled as she pulled the sheets completely over her head and burrowed further into the pillows. 

With a shake of her head, Jamie rose to her feet. She had the front door open before she patted at her leg. She turned back around to grab the mining laser from where it had rolled onto the floor at some point during the night, and strapped it to her thigh before strolling out into the grey pre-dawn of Telos IV. 

By all accounts, it was a day like any other day. Anybody watching her would have noticed nothing different about Jamie’s routine. She caught the railspeeder a few blocks down and rode it from Thani all the way to the forests just past the grasslands in quadrant two. Chodo Habat Parkway was empty at this time of morning, but in just a few hours it would be a bustle of activity. The railspeeder flew over the Parkway and Jamie watched it from the window with barely registered interest. The only other person on the train that she could see was a Rodian dead asleep on the other side of the cabin, his antennae drooping. 

By the time Jamie made it to the edge of quadrant two, the sun had risen over the horizon and washed the planet in muted green and gold light. Far below the railspeeder, the grasslands rippled in a breeze. She eyed it with a touch more interest than for the Parkway. The previous generation of AgriCorps members had managed to get the grasslands to take, but only two species. It had taken Jamie and her team four years to introduce a handful of other grass species robust enough to cling to life in this dirt. She sat up a little straighter in her seat and tracked the varieties she could spot from this distance.

Turned out that even after three hundred years, an orbital barrage rendering an entire planet ground zero could still have an adverse effect on soil leaching. 

God damn fucking Saul Karath and the damn Sith. 

It was another half hour until she reached the drop off point. When the railspeeder slowed to a halt, Jamie dragged herself upright and hopped off. A few people passed by to get onto the railspeeder for the next stop, but the outdoor station on the forest outskirts of quadrant two was largely full of people coming to work, not leaving. She paid a few credits for a dietary supplement being sold by a dented droid vendor behind a small stall with a leaning canopy. 

“You should eat actual meals sometimes, Jamie,” the droid admonished even as it deposited the tablet-sized supplement into her outstretched palm. 

“I’ve tasted your swill before, C-87,” said Jamie. “I’ll take my chances with the supplement, thanks.”

C-87 gave an affronted sniff, but handed her a compostable cup that was filled with steaming stimcaf. “On the house.”  

She took the cup and washed down the supplement with a heady swig. “You’re a legend, mate.”

“I am not at all well known outside of Thani,” C-87 said in obvious confusion. 

She shook her head with a smile. “It’s just an expression.”

“Oh. Right. I will add it to my database with the others.” 

Jamie continued down a ramp to the broad dirt path that served as a crossroads for the area. A turbo-tractor dragged piles of gear down the track, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. A ruddy-skinned Ithorian was directing teams in shifts for the day, handing out new jobs and gathering feedback on the screen between his hands. Jamie walked towards him just as a small group departed with waves, their expressions tired but not unfriendly. 

“Morning, Murr,” Jamie greeted.

Murr’s only reply was a deep reverberation of hello. It sounded more like the shifting of tectonic plates than actual language.  

“I saw some patchy sections over the grassland outskirts of quadrant one,” Jamie said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the railspeeder behind her. “Can we get the scrubs to take a look this afternoon?” 

Murr was already tapping away at his screen. The translator device at the top of Murr’s long neck blinked, and through his rumbling subvocalisations a robotic voice said, “I will send a team to check the clay capping has not been permeated.”

“And make sure they don’t forget to test the aquifer this time,” Jamie insisted.

Murr’s throat sack expanded and he made a low booming sound that she had come to learn was a sort of derisive snort for his species. The robotic voice said, “You have little faith. You should consider revisiting your Temple.”

“Sounds almost as boring as one of your jungle Herd meets.”

He waved her away, but she saw him make an extra note on his screen nevertheless. 

“Cheers.” She gave him a brisk pat on the shoulder before striding off towards the treeline. 

From one of the pockets of her boilersuit, Jamie fished out a key. She hopped onto a rusting old swoop bike and turned it on with a twist of the key. As she sped off into the forest, she chucked the now empty cup of stimcaf over her shoulder, where it would dissolve into the nitrogen rich soil with the next scheduled rainfall. 

Work was dull, repetitive, yet fulfilling. Technically Jamie supervised a team of new AgriCorps entries, most of them young idealists who’d chosen this Service out of a sense of obligation to the Restoration, as though it were some kind of symbol against the tide of red creeping across the galactic map with every passing day. They hadn’t been parcelled out to the other branches like loose change that never quite added up to a whole number. They found her dry pessimism inharmonious with their convictions, and so they only ever came to her for direction as a last resort. 

And honestly it was the best for everyone involved. As far as Jamie was concerned, she was the last person who should be teaching anyone. Especially starry-eyed kids who looked like they’d only just graduated from being younglings at the Temple. 

Even out in the far-reaching forests of Telos, Jamie felt like she was being watched, like someone would know exactly who she was hiding in her apartment. She kept a sharp eye on the treeline as she worked. At one point she nearly gave herself a second degree burn with the mining laser when a new entry snuck up on her with a question. Jamie sent them scurrying off with a gruff answer — ‘No, don’t plant them beneath the allelopaths, you prat’ — and returned to her careful pruning with a scowl. 

By the end of the day, she was exhausted and paranoid and she still had a two and a half hour rail ride back home. To really spice things up, a huddle of officers shuffled into her rail car at one of the station stops. They went around questioning passengers about whether or not anyone had seen a woman of familiar description — blonde, pretty, mismatched eyes. When they reached Jamie, she shook her head. They glanced at the AgriCorps logo on her boilersuit, thanked her for her service and dedication, and went on their merry way. 

She was bouncing her leg up and down when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station. She tried not to look like she was fleeing, but the officers had congregated at the far end of the rail car to chat amongst themselves, and the last thing she needed was to be pulled over for a candid discussion about the latest Restoration Project updates. 

Telosians. Nosy fuckers. The lot of them.

The sun slanted towards the horizon as she walked home, her steps brisk, her shoulders hunched, her hands jammed into her pockets. Her boots rattled against the metal staircase leading up to her apartment. She held her breath while she punched in the passcode to open the door, half expecting the place to be empty, or to be a complete wreck. Dani gone. Dani taken. Dani just another strange memory to add to a list of strange memories. 

Dani was, in fact, still there. Indeed, Dani was wearing a spare set of Jamie’s clothes and an apron, and she was puttering around the kitchenette. Her hair had been tied back in a braid and she was unpacking a few bags of groceries. Jamie recognised the logo stamped on the recyclable bags as belonging to a little market stall a few blocks down. 

Jamie shut the front door behind her and locked it. “I thought I told you not to go outside. How did you even get back in without me?”

“I saw you enter the passcode last night,” Dani answered without looking up from what she was doing. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a pan that Jamie couldn’t even remember buying. It must have come with the apartment. “And you didn’t have any food.”

“There’s food in the fridge,” Jamie said.

In answer Dani opened said fridge, which was nearly barren. She gestured towards its bare shelves and said, “I’d hardly call dietary supplements and alcohol ‘food.’”

“Do you want to get caught? Because this is how you get caught.” 

“Just -” Dani shut the fridge again and turned back to her previous task with a sigh. “Let me cook dinner. And then you can teach me some lightsabre forms afterwards.” 

Jamie was in the process of tugging off her work boots, and she nearly fell over hearing that. “I’m sorry - I can do what?” 

Turning on the electric stovetop, Dani pulled out some pre-packaged protein and sauce. “If I’m going to have it, then I at least want to know how to use it.”

“First of all,” Jamie finished taking off her shoes and left them by the door. Then she crossed the room so she could lean against the counter to talk to Dani. “Nobody just starts off with a lightsabre, all right? That’s not how it works. You need to do all sorts of inner peace bantha-shit before they even let you harvest kyber to make your own lightsabre. There’s a whole right of passage.” She gestured to herself emphatically, tapping her own chest. “I never got to make a lightsabre.”

There was a very attractive, very distracting curve to Dani’s smile when she replied, “Failed the inner peace part, huh?” 

“Very funny,” said Jamie, not laughing. Dani moved to start cooking in earnest, but Jamie reached out to grasp her wrist. “Hey. Is this really what you want?” 

Dani went still. There was no leap of electricity between them, not like that first night down at Ho’kyn’s. Still both of them hesitated, waiting for it to happen again. 

When it didn’t, Dani’s jaw squared bullishly. “I want to be able to defend myself. Against -” she waved at Jamie with her free hand. “- you know.”

“Force sensitives.”

“Yeah.”

Jamie tapped her finger in a thoughtful manner; it took her a moment to realise that this meant she was tapping at Dani’s wrist while Dani watched her in confusion. Snatching her hand away, Jamie said, “Fine. C’mon.” 

Pausing to rummage through one of the grocery bags for a bread bun, Jamie walked to the middle of the room and motioned for Dani to join her. 

Dani blinked. “Wait - right now?” 

“Are you gonna wait until I change my mind after dinner?” 

Immediately, Dani switched the stove off and removed the apron. Come to think of it, Jamie couldn’t remember buying an apron either. Before she could dwell on that thought too hard, Dani had rushed over to the bedside table to scoop up the lightsabre, and was now standing before Jamie in the middle of her living room/kitchen/spare bedroom. She bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, lightsabre hilt held unsheathed in one hand, awaiting instruction. 

Fuck, but Jamie was bad at the whole teacher thing. Six months in the EduCorps had been enough to remind her — and everyone in her close vicinity — that she was Not Great at patience and bookishness. In fact, moving from the EduCorps had been her first Reassignment, and the Council had never put her back there. A decision which was met with universal relief. Especially from Jamie. 

“Ground rules,” Jamie started.

Dani nodded to show she was listening.

“If I tell you to sheathe the blade, you sheathe it. If either you or I feel uncomfortable or in danger or — whatever — you sheathe it. If you hit something you shouldn’t, you sheathe it. If you drop it -” Jamie paused, then grimaced. “Don’t. Just don’t do that.” 

Dani nodded again. “Okay.” 

“Be careful,” Jamie warned. “Usually they start you off with a practice sabre. That -” she pointed to the hilt in Dani’s grasp, “- is the real deal. One wrong move, and you will kill someone. Probably yourself. Or me. Honestly I would prefer if it wasn’t me.”

“Okay,” Dani repeated, sounding exasperated this time. 

Taking a step back so she was well clear of any sweep radius, Jamie bit into the bread bun and mumbled around a mouthful, “Go ahead.” 

“What? Just -?” Dani gave the unlit hilt a little wave. 

“Yeah,” said Jamie, chewing. “Go on.”

Dani’s thumb hovered over the silver activation button, and then she pressed down. The blade extended from the hilt, a deep and brilliant blue, blue as a Tythonian sky on a cold winter’s day, blue as an evening star. For a long moment Dani simply held it outright, the blue light washing out her face. Then she gave it an experimental slash through the air, the sound of the plasma blade like nothing else. 

“It’s -” Dani said in surprise, “- heavy.” 

Jamie hummed around another mouthful. She took the time to finish chewing before she answered, “You haven’t connected with it yet.”

Dani scrunched up her nose. “It’s just a fancy sword.”

“If that’s what you believe, then we should just go back to making dinner. Maybe you can use it to cook those steaks you bought.” 

Dani pursed her lips. She lowered the blade, holding it loosely at her side so that the tip was pointed towards the ground. “No. Teach me.” 

Studying the determination on Dani’s face, Jamie leaned back against the wall. She propped her foot back, crossed her arms, and said, “Lower your stance. We’re going to go through the forms, now.” 

If nothing else, Dani was a quick learner. At least, that must have been the reason why this was going so well. It certainly couldn’t have been because Jamie was a decent teacher, because everyone from the Outer Rim to Tython knew that wasn’t true. Yet Dani, after an hour spent barefoot and wearing pajamas in Jamie’s living room, already looked more at home with a lightsabre in her hands than Jamie ever had after years of training in the Temple. 

At one point, Jamie tore off a chunk of bread and threw it at the floor near Dani’s legs. Dani leapt back a step unsteadily and pressed the deactivation button so that the blade slid back up into the hilt. 

“What was that for?” Dani asked.

Jamie jerked her chin towards her. “Pay attention to your feet. Look how narrow they are. Your opponent can put you off balance, take ground from you, force you to retreat.”

“You can just tell me that. You don’t need to throw food at me.” Dani knelt down to pick up the piece of bread and toss it into the sink. 

Now that Jamie was actually looking at the floor more closely, she asked, “Did you vacuum today?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when did I own a vacuum?” 

“It was in the supply closet behind your pantry.”

“I have a pantry?” 

Dani walked over towards the kitchen side of the room and hit a panel on the wall that Jamie had never cared to fiddle with in the past. A whole section of the wall jutted out then slid sideways to reveal a whole host of kitchen items and cleaning supplies that Jamie had never even knew existed. 

“Well, shit,” Jamie muttered, scratching at the back of her head. “I have a pantry.”

Hitting the panel again to make the wall shut, Dani took her place back in the centre of the floor. “Can we keep going?” she asked, and she already pressed the activation button to unsheathe the lightsabre once more. 

Jamie lifted her eyebrows. By now she had crouched down against the wall, one leg outstretched as she idly fidgeted with the zipper of her boilersuit. “Start from the top. One. Two. Three -”

Eventually Jamie didn’t even have to mime the movements for Dani to follow along, and Dani — looking utterly pleased with herself, her smile radiant — finished a whole set without a single discernible flaw. 

"This isn't so hard," Dani said. She gave the lightsabre a bold flourish as she turned on the spot.

Which of course meant that the blade cut right through Jamie's couch.

Dani scrambled to hit the deactivation button, nearly dropping the lightsabre in the process, but the damage was already done. The couch was cut cleanly in half. Slowly it buckled as they watched, slumping to the floor in the centre where it was no longer self supported. The cut through it smoked gently and smelled of burning hair. 

Jamie glared.

Clutching the now unlit sabre hilt, Dani winced. "Sorry."

Jamie pushed herself upright, dusting off her hands. "I think that's enough lightsabre training for one evening,” she growled.

The worst part was how Dani kept apologising all through dinner. 

“I’m sorry,” Dani said, hovering at Jamie’s elbow while Jamie loaded dishes into the automatic wash machine. "I can buy you a new couch.” 

"Save your credits for the trip to Tython."

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t -” Jamie cut herself off. She shut the front-loading machine a little more firmly than was perhaps strictly necessary, then turned to face Dani, whose expression was positively doleful. “Don’t be sorry. Be better. Don’t get cocky just because you got through one set of the most basic lightsabre form there is.”

“Sor -” Dani started to say, then changed course. “I won’t.” 

The lightsabre itself was propped atop the counter on the far side of the room, where Dani had hastily put it down moments after the incident. 

Reaching for a dish towel, Jamie shook her head and started to wipe down the kitchen countertop. “You need proper training. Not whatever rubbish I can offer you.” 

“I don’t want to go to the Temple. I don’t want to learn about -” Dani’s mouth snapped shut and she frowned down at her own feet. 

“Being Force sensitive isn’t just something you can run away from, you know,” Jamie said. She ran water over the dish towel and rung it out before continuing where she’d left off. 

“I told you,” Dani grumbled. “I’m not Force sensitive.”

“Fuck’s sake. This again?” 

“You don’t need to teach me about the Force. You can just teach me the basics of a lightsabre.”

At that, Jamie laughed. She stopped mopping up the counter and turned to face Dani. “Fuckin’ hilarious that you think those two things are different somehow.” 

With a huff, Dani turned aside. She crossed her arms and glowered at the maimed couch. 

When it was clear she wasn’t going to speak, Jamie tossed down the towel. “Nothing you say will change the fact that you’re -”

“Stop,” Dani said through grit teeth. “Just - stop it.” 

Jamie didn’t stop it. Because if there was one thing Jamie knew about herself, it’s that she didn’t have a lick of good sense. “What do you think will happen if you try to run from it, anyway? Do you think nobody will notice? Forever? Because even I noticed, and I’m about as Force sensitive as a tree stump.”

While Jamie spoke, Dani’s jaw clenched. “You think I want some Council to dictate my whole life? You think I want -?” she asked with a broad sweep of her hand towards Jamie’s apartment without finishing her sentence. 

Jamie narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.” Jamie took a step forward, and it was gratifying that Dani didn’t back down, that she held her ground. “If the Jedi don’t find you, the Sith will. You think my life is bad? What are you gonna do? Run forever? Why are you -?”

“Because! Because this will get worse!” Dani burst out, and there was a ragged edge to her voice that gave Jamie pause. “Because if I use it — if I do that then I’ll -!”

She stopped abruptly, hand flying to her head with a wince of pain. Concerned, Jamie reached out, but the moment she touched her, it was like being struck by lightning. Like a chorus of song branching out in all directions. Dani staggered away from her with a gasp, breaking the connection, and her eyes were squeezed shut, arms raised as though to ward off an incoming blow. 

“I’m - I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to -! I didn’t -!” Dani was saying, apologising over and over, and all but cowering. 

Jamie stared at her, hand still outstretched. Slowly she rubbed her fingertips together, half expecting a flicker of sparks to leap between them. The thrill of it still echoed around her ribcage and the roof of her mouth. 

This time when Jamie reached out she was careful not to touch her. “Dani,” she said softly. “Nothing happened. It’s all right. Hey. You’re all right.”

Hesitant, Dani opened her eyes, peering around the room as if surprised that everything was still intact. She worried at her lower lip, her hands clenched at her sides. Finally she looked up at Jamie, and the fear was painted openly across her face, pleading and alone; it gleamed in her eyes.

"The Force isn't what you think," Jamie murmured. "You can't run from yourself."

Dani opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again. She dropped her gaze and sniffed. For a brief terrifying moment Jamie thought she was going to cry again, but then Dani simply nodded. If anything her expression was a mixture between miserable and embarrassed. Jamie patted her upper arms, and for a brief second Dani tensed, only to relax when nothing happened. 

“Now,” said Jamie. “Let me finish washing up. I’m afraid that if you help, you’ll cut my kitchen in half, too.”

Dani let out a watery laugh. 

Jamie grinned in return. “I’m serious. My kitchen’s small enough as it is. Don’t need it drawn and quartered as well.”

Dani was biting back a smile when she looked up at her. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a jerk?”

Jamie pretended to look thoughtful and shook her head, but what she said was, “All the time.” 

That earned her another snort of laughter. Dani wiped at her cheeks with both hands. 

Picking up the dish towel once more, Jamie snapped it feebly in Dani’s direction. “Go on, now. Get.”

Dani lifted her hands in mock surrender and moved away, leaving Jamie to finish up in the kitchen alone. Jamie didn’t pay much attention to the sounds of rummaging in the apartment behind her. At one point the bathroom door shut, then she heard the hiss of water in the shower. She took the opportunity of Dani’s absence to strip down and get into pajamas without making her guest blush scarlet. As tempting a proposition as that was. 

When Dani finally emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, pinning a towel to her chest with her fingers, Jamie was bored and flipping through the holo feed from the bed because the couch was — well, the couch still smelled like burning hair for starters. Bit unpleasant, that. Jamie wouldn’t be rid of the stench for weeks.

Getting to her feet, Jamie squeezed past Dani for her turn in the bathroom with a murmured, “‘Scuse me,” while Dani shied away from her, still looking guilty, like she was expecting Jamie to throw her out at any moment. Which, honestly, was a bit rude, to be honest. Jamie was an excellent host. Minus the whole ‘no food’ thing. 

When Jamie emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, scrubbed and tired and ready to sleep, she stopped dead in her tracks. On the ground beside the bed, Dani was fluffing up some of the couch pillows in a makeshift mattress. She had changed into the same spare set of Jamie’s pajamas, and was now settling herself atop the cushions. 

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I thought -" Dani started to say, but she trailed off, her hands curling in the blanket she had drawn up her legs. 

"Just -" Jamie sighed and went over to her usual side of the bed, where she pulled back the sheets. "Get in."

While Dani sat on the floor trying to make up her mind, Jamie waved off the holo feed and the lights. With a groan, Jamie clambered into bed, listening to the pop of her joints. She wasn’t exactly ancient, but maybe she was getting a little old to be scaling canopies hundreds of feet in the air for hours at a time. She might start training some of the new recruits in mass pruning tomorrow. Provided they didn’t display an alarming propensity for loss of limb when wielding a thermal saw. 

Beside her, Jamie felt the mattress dip beneath a new weight. Dani slipped beneath the sheets and curled as close to the edge as she possibly could, far away from Jamie. Honestly that suited Jamie just fine. She wasn’t too keen on a cuddle, either. Grabbing a spare pillow, Jamie hooked it beneath her arm and rolled over. She wriggled deeper into the mattress and settled in for a kip. 

Until the bed trembled slightly, that was.

Without opening her eyes, Jamie frowned. There was shuffling behind her, sounding like Dani was trying to wind herself into as tight a ball as possible. She was, Jamie realised, shivering. Jamie sighed. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. A quick trek across the apartment, and she returned with a spare blanket, which she threw over Dani without saying anything. Dani’s form went very still, and Jamie crawled back into her own side of the bed, punching her pillow into shape before resting her head upon it. 

After a long moment of silence she could hear Dani’s soft voice through the night. “Thank you.” 

—

She didn’t have the same dream again. Though she didn’t sleep well either. She wasn’t used to having another person in her bed. Especially when said person kept fidgeting and sighing and rolling over, unable to fall asleep. 

And when Jamie did eventually sleep, the dreams were fragmented and red. They were shards of glass and metal in a clenched fist. 

—

When Jamie stepped off the railspeeder the next morning, bright and early, she approached C-87 for her usual dietary supplement and stimcaf combo. The droid perked right up when it saw her coming.

“Jamie -”

“Mornin’,” Jamie said around a long yawn. “Don’t suppose you could make it a double shot today?”

“Jamie,” the droid said again in as serious a tone as it could muster.

“Yeah, that’s my name. What about it?”

In answer, C-87 swivelled its head around. With a frown she followed its gaze, and then she felt the blood drain from her face. 

There at the end of the ramp stood Pillock One and Pillock Two. She didn’t need to see the Czerka logos on their kit to recognise them. Their backs were towards her and they were talking to Murr. Ithorians didn’t typically have what she would call expressive faces, but Murr’s large brown eyes were wide and he had retracted his neck like a turtle trying to hide in its shell. 

“Shit,” Jamie swore and she ducked down behind C-87’s stall. Without question the droid reached up to adjust the canopy so that it hid her better. “Did they talk to you?”

“Negative,” C-87 replied. “They were questioning a few other AgriCorps members, and then they started speaking with Murr. I took the liberty of moving your swoop bike so that it was more easily accessible, should you require it.”

Shuffling around on her hands and knees, Jamie dared to peek around the edge of the stall. Sure enough, her swoop bike was within easy reach. Murr spotted her, his throat sack swelling up in surprise as he drew in a deep breath. Pillock One started to turn, but Murr pointed towards the treeline, where her swoop bike would’ve been parked had C-87 not moved it.

Pillock Two made a rude gesture towards Murr before setting off in the direction he had indicated. Pillock One followed after him, unholstering the very large blaster rifle slung across his back. When they’d gotten far enough away, Murr gestured sharply at Jamie in what was very clearly a shooing motion. 

C-87’s head popped around the corner so abruptly that Jamie jumped with a curse. “I think you should take the next railspeeder back to Thani as soon as possible. Alternatively, you should drive your swoop bike,” the droid told her.

“Yeah, you think?”

“I have been thinking that for several minutes, in fact.” 

“It’s just an expression,” Jamie sighed. “We’ll work on your sarcasm module some more next time, all right?” 

“Very well, Jamie.”

She didn’t wait to see if Pillock One and Pillock Two were heading further into the forest. She jumped on the back of her swoop bike, started it up, and sped off towards the next railspeeder station. There was no way a short-distance bike like this could make it all the way back to Thani in good time. She had to wait at the next station along the grid, anxiously tugging at her boilersuit zipper, wishing she had a hood or something to hide herself even a little bit. The swoop bike she simply abandoned at the station, jumping onto the next rail service with the sort of pent up jitters that had her half vibrating out of her skin. 

It was perhaps the longest two hours or so of her life. In recent memory, anyway. She spent the whole time folded up in a back seat in the rail car, trying to make herself seem inconspicuous. When a random ticket officer droid trundled by, requesting to see her ticket credentials, she fumbled with the laminated pass so badly that she nearly dropped it. And when the railspeeder finally pulled into her station, she bolted out as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention.

Back at the apartment, Jamie burst through the front door. Dani, who had been flicking through the holo feed from the bed, started with a yelp. 

“You scared me,” Dani gasped, hand over her still heaving chest. 

“Change of plans,” Jamie said. She rushed across the apartment, grabbed a rucksack from beneath her bed and started to shove clothes into it at random. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Now.” 

For all the confusion on her face, Dani jumped to her feet and began gathering what little items she’d brought with her. “What happened?” 

“Czerka.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she dropped her nanosilk cloak to the ground. “They know where I am?” she asked, swooping down to snatch up the cloak.

“Yes,” said Jamie. Then, “No. Maybe. They know where I am now, anyway. Showed up at work, and — Look. We have history, all right?”

“What kind of history?”

Jamie darted into the bathroom to gather up a few necessary toiletries for the trip. Dani followed, watching her from the doorway. 

“Jamie,” said Dani, voice sounding both stern and worried all at once. “What kind of history?” 

“I know their leader. Peter fucking Quint. I may have -” Jamie opened the mirror cabinet and just pushed a few rows of stuff into the open bag in her hand. “- gotten his arm chopped off at one point.”

“You what?” 

“It was his own fucking fault!” Jamie hissed. “I just helped! A little! And he’s still, y’know -” She zipped up the bag and shrugged. “- sore about it. Some people just hold a grudge.” 

“Oh, sure. Can’t imagine why he’d do that,” Dani said, and Jamie didn’t have to look at her to hear the roll of her eyes. 

Jamie turned around and stomped past her from the bathroom. “At least he’s still alive. Which is a hell of a lot better than what you’ve accomplished.”

Dani glowered at her, still leaning in the doorway with her arms crossed. 

“Do you want to wait around until Czerka finds us?” Jamie asked, pointing towards the front door. “Because they’re on their way.”

With a huff, Dani relented. She grabbed up her small bag and clipped the lightsaber to the belt at her waist. “No. I don’t.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

#the haunting of bly manor #thobm #star wars #dani clayton/jamie #damie #no great revelation #I know too much star wars shit don't @ me #roman writes

[fanfoolishness]

Primary Directives (The Mandalorian)

(IG-11 discovers similarities between itself and the Mandalorian.  Mainly based on the episodes The Mandalorian, The Reckoning and the Redemption.  IG-11, Din Djarin, and Kuiil. 2020 words, canon-typical violence, Din!whump.)

***

It was a droid.  It had always known this, as surely as it had always known the ways of battle and weaponry, as it had known the ways to terminate over six hundred and forty-three organic species.  IG-11 knew what it had been manufactured for, and that knowledge was as certain as code and metal and electricity.

Still, though, there were surprises.  Such as the Mandalorian —

[Mandalorians: most commonly human but may hail of any race.  Exceptional warriors operating within a strict honor-based code, plated in beskar armor protecting vulnerable body systems: cardiovascular system, cranium, spine.  Beskar armor repels blaster fire, adjust angle of bolts fired to avoid secondary damage due to ricochet.  Weapons may include wrist-fired whipcords, small ballistics, flamethrowers, or missiles in addition to standard issue blaster pistols and rifles.  Kill points include jugular vein, brachial arteries, lungs —]

Despite this knowledge, IG-11 was not invulnerable.  The Mandalorian fired a blaster into IG-11’s central processing unit and all awareness ceased.

***

Systems rewired, reprogrammed, new knowledge, new directives.  Protect and nurse.  Defending became the new priority instead of attacking.  The work of the Ugnaught’s hands laid new tracts within its circuitry, paths that were worn deeper with the passage of time and every subsequent use. 

The old knowledge of vulnerabilities and weaknesses of organics melded with information on how to ease the suffering of these creatures.  There was also new information regarding the understanding of what suffering meant.  This knowledge was assimilated, and IG-11’s study of protection and nurturing began.  

It took time, as did all things worth knowing.  Fragments of prior memory were still accessible: it could still visualize clearly the manufacturer’s killing fields littered with the droids whose programming had not fully taken hold.  IG-11 had navigated those killing fields successfully, a ready and willing deliverer of death, and had emerged a formidable and fatal machine.  It did not mourn the units that did not succeed.  It knew only what it had been made for, and it knew that it would be successful.

Until it failed.  

The Mandalorian ended its previous existence and claimed the bounty for his own, and IG-11 was left for scrap.

Now IG-11 trained with the Ugnaught Kuiil on the muddy world of Arvala-7, and it found success in movements made for building, in carrying tea that nourished the Ugnaught, in protecting the small forms of life that skittered and scurried through the mudflats of their shared housing unit.  The old programming made a scaffold for the new, a web that built its way throughout IG-11’s surface awareness and sublevel routines, and it strove to fulfill its purpose as ever it had.

***

IG-11 stood over the fallen Kuiil.  It regarded the Ugnaught’s prone form, analyzing the absence of breath, the pallor of flesh, the stillness of form.  Kuiil and IG-11 had been united in their purpose to protect the Child, to defend, to nurse.  Now IG-11 stood alone, its sensors identifying molecules of smoke and burnt organic flesh carried on the harsh Nevarran wind.

It would fulfill its master’s work.  The death would not be without use.  IG-11’s purpose did not waver, and it broke into a run over the dried lava fields, leaving its master behind.

The Ugnaught’s hands had been steady and true. 

***

IG-11 succeeded, as its programming had assured it that it would.  The Child nestled against IG-11’s metallic form, letting out squeals the droid analyzed as filled with delight.  They traveled on a stolen 74-Z Imperial speeder bike as IG-11’s targeting software focused on stormtrooper after stormtrooper.

IG-11’s aim was steady and true.

***

IG-11 and the Child rejoined the Mandalorian and the humans, though the Mandalorian appeared to have been injured.  They hid from overwhelming numbers of Imperial troops as IG-11 monitored the situation for ways to protect the Child.

It did as the humans requested.  The male human requested assistance with ascertaining a route of escape as he imbibed alcohol to dull his senses.  IG-11 worked as instructed, even when the environment was temporarily compromised by the attack of a Flametrooper.  

[Imperial enemy.  Flamethrower does not project temperatures higher than 300 degrees, a level of heat that is tolerated by all IG units but is fatal to multiple organic species. Standard stormtrooper weaknesses apply.] 

Strangely, the threat was removed by the Child, a sentient creature IG-11 lacked all data for.  The Child weakened after mounting its defense.  It would still require protection.

The threat neutralized, the female human requested IG-11 bring the body of the dying Mandalorian to them.  IG-11 gave its assurance to the woman, then gave the Child to her.  She had no levels of inebriation, and protocol dictated that the Child be placed with a guardian most likely to assure its survival.  The man and woman fled the smoke-filled shelter with the weakened Child, descending into the sewer system.

IG-11 then turned its attention to the Mandalorian.

It watched the Mandalorian’s breathing.  His chest rose and fell, the breath strained, labored, then absent.  Breath, breath, apnea.  The cycle repeated.  This abnormal pattern of respiration suggested a severe head injury.  Perhaps that was why the Mandalorian had so resisted the female human’s offers to render aid.  

Instructions of kill points and nursing directives, which intertwined at countless points, were accessed.  [Brain trauma: results in altered consciousness, delirium, obtundation.  May be fatal.]

“Do it,” rasped the Mandalorian.

“Do what?” IG-11 asked.  It could not comply with the Mandalorian’s orders if the directive was unknown.

“Just get it over with,” the Mandalorian said.  

Analysis was performed.  [Fluctuating timbre of the voice.  Abnormal breathing pattern persists.  Severe pain is present.]

“I’d rather you kill me than some Imp,” the Mandalorian continued.  IG-11 noted trembling in the body, particularly the hands.  Ah.  Perhaps the Mandalorian expected revenge for the previous shot fired into IG-11’s central processing unit, and the obliteration of its old directives.  Such a thought was foolish, but then again, the Mandalorian had been injured and could be trapped in aberrant thinking patterns.

“I told you, I am no longer a hunter,” stated IG-11.  It attempted to modulate its voice to be perceived as more friendly and less threatening.  “I am a nurse droid.”

“IGs are all hunters,” said the Mandalorian stubbornly.

“Not this one,” IG-11 corrected.  “I was reprogrammed.  I need to remove your helmet if I am to save you.”  The injury could not be successfully evaluated or repaired without doing so.

IG-11 reached to remove the Mandalorian’s helmet, and instinctively the Mandalorian raised a blaster in his shaking hand.

“Try it and I’ll kill you,” the Mandalorian threatened, his chest heaving.  

IG-11 regarded the Mandalorian in puzzlement.  All prior programming had suggested that an injured creature would do anything to accept aid.  It paused.

“It is… forbidden,” the Mandalorian gasped, desperation tingeing his voice.  “No living thing has seen me without my helmet since I… I swore the Creed.”

IG-11 understood the issue, then.  It was a problem of programming.  The Mandalorian could not deny his prime directive any more readily than IG-11 could.  Perhaps there was a logical means of resolution.

“I am not a living thing,” said IG-11 gently.  It extended its arm to touch the helmet.  The blaster shook in the Mandalorian’s hand, but did not fire.  IG-11 lifted the helmet, breaking its seal, and removed it from the head of the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian was human, as IG-11 had expected from the sound of his voice and the patterns of movement displayed by his body in battle.  The droid experienced no emotion at the sight of the man’s face, but it studied it so as to better understand the extent of the injuries.  

Blood trickled from the left nostril into the man’s patchy facial hair.  A laceration arced across the bridge of the nose.  Anisocoria was visible in the man’s brown eyes, a negative prognostic indicator.  One that, in his previous programming, would have been a sign of impending success, especially when combined with the quantity of blood and sweat matting the man’s hair.  Yet IG-11 felt no sense of completion at the man’s injured state.  Death was no longer its objective.

Yet death threatened all the same.  The threat was underscored by the frantic hyperventilation that had begun with the removal of the helmet, though the droid was uncertain if this was due to physical stimuli or due to emotional agitation.  It ran a standard analysis on the Mandalorian’s expressions to determine the answer.

[Fear is detected in the shifts of the eyebrows and widening of the palpebral fissures.  Distress and anxiety are exhibited in the frozen gaze and half-open mouth, a common response to threat in this species. Pain is seen in persistent shivering and recoiling.]

IG-11 activated the bacta unit the Ugnaught had installed on its arm, propelling a standard dose of 2.8mg/m2 onto the injured region.  The Mandalorian stared at the droid, gaze still frozen, either confused or obtunded.  The blaster wavered in his hand, then slowly lowered.

“This is a bacta spray.  It will heal you in a matter of hours,” said IG-11.  It attempted a joke; the jokes had always worked on the Ugnaught.  “You have damaged your central processing unit.”  Surely the Mandalorian would see the humor in the reversal of their situations.

The Mandalorian stared dazedly, eyes struggling to focus as the bacta spray took hold.  The lines that creased his face, indicating pain, began to ease slightly.  He raised his eyebrows, mouth dropping further open.  “You mean my brain?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“That was a joke,” said IG-11 warmly.  “It is meant to put you at ease.”

The Mandalorian attempted a noise that with further analysis IG-11 determined to be a laugh.

“You are beginning to feel a reduction in pain and impairment,” said IG-11.  “You are recognizing humor.”

The Mandalorian grimaced.  “If you say so,” he said, closing his eyes.  His mouth made a thin, hard line, but his breathing eased, beginning to settle into a pattern more consistent with normal health.  He breathed deeply, but then coughed, a loud rattling sound caused by the smoke.  Perhaps the Mandalorian’s helmet contained filters that would reduce the effects of smoke inhalation.

As IG-11 identified the problem, it felt the Mandalorian’s hand brush against its arm.  “Please,” the man muttered.  “My helmet -- You did what you needed, right?  I -- I need it -- the Imps are still out there --”

“Of course,” said IG-11.  Swiftly it raised its arm, carefully lowering the helmet back over the man’s head and face.  The Mandalorian reached up clumsily with both hands, fingertips slipping and scrabbling on the smooth beskar as he tried to pull the helmet down.  IG-11 aided him, guiding the helmet over his face until it felt the click of the seal reconnecting.  

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian exhaled, his breathing pattern finally reverting to normal.

“Can you stand?” IG-11 queried.  “The Imperial forces will likely investigate this area soon.  The bacta should continue to work as more time elapses.”

The man gave a weak nod.  “I think I can stand.”  He gripped IG-11’s hand and was pulled to his feet, where he wavered.  IG-11 draped the Mandalorian’s arm over its shoulders.

“I will assist you,” said IG-11.  

“Why?” the Mandalorian asked, leaning heavily against it as they carefully descended into the sewer after the others.  “Why are you helping me?”

“Because you are a protector, as I am,” said IG-11, leading the injured man through the darkened tunnels.  “Kuiil taught me to nurse and protect those that cannot defend themselves.  You have done the same for the Child, though you faced far superior forces and the threat of death.  Working together, we have a greater chance to fulfill our directive.  To protect the Child.  Do you understand?”

The man was quiet, and for a moment, IG-11 only heard the man’s breaths, sharp and full of effort as they made their way forward into the depths. At last the Mandalorian spoke, and when he did, the voice was heavy, shaded with many human emotions.

[Relief, surprise, gratitude.  Understanding.]

“This is the Way,” he said softly, and the words echoed, ringing, in the dark.

#the mandalorian #ig11 #din djarin #kuiil #mandalorian #my mando fic #noromo mando