#━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ They grew up on the outside of society. They weren't looking for a fight. They were looking to belong ( V002 ! )

[eufezco]

THE MUSE

Benedict needs to practice female form. Naked female form. And who better to help him than his lifelong friend?

Benedict x fem!reader (smut with plot, friends to lovers) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

Benedict didn't know how to ask you.

You had been friends for a long time, your families were practically one. Always so united, your mamas took walks every afternoon, gossiping about the ton and your fathers had been friends since childhood. You and Benedict were bound to meet.

You and he grew up together. You were friends with his siblings, you had held sleepovers with his sisters and won cricket matches against his brothers. Lady Violet Bridgerton loved you like a daughter and your mother loved Benedict like a son.

But your friendship with him had always been special.

When you were twelve, you ran away together to camp on the riverbank, just because Benedict wanted to draw the moon reflecting in the water at night. The following year, despite the scolding you received for your river adventure, you and Benedict sneaked onto private land just to pluck a few petals from the summer sunflowers to get him the perfect shade of yellow.

You and Benedict were very close. Of course, there had always been rumors about what kind of relationship you two had and that Lady Whistledown had only added more fuel to the fire writing about you two in her pamphlets. You and him never cared about that, and neither your families but it was true that you two have had to face some uncomfortable conversations with them about it.

That's why Benedict didn't know how to ask you. You had a lot of trust in each other, you had always supported his artistic vocation but perhaps this was too much.

—Oh, thank God you've come. I am in need of a model —. It was the first thing Benedict said to you when you entered his studio. The maid closed the door behind you, leaving you alone with him. Thank goodness the Bridgertons' service was very discreet, if anyone found out that you and him were alone in a room it would cause quite a scandal.

—Good evening to you too, Benedict.

—My apologies. Good evening —. He leaned to kiss your cheek.— I need a model —. He let you know one more time.

—How have you been? Very stressed from what I can tell —. You tried to have a normal conversation with him before you paid attention to what he required.

—Indeed.

You sighed. —Well, what is it? I thought we were going for a walk.

He nodded. —We can go outside later. But I need to get this done by tomorrow and I feel like I'm losing my mind.

—And...?

—I need practice female form.

You slowly nodded. You were aware that Benedict had been recently attending this art academy, you were happy that he was finally able to pursue his passion and you couldn't deny that within the characteristic desperation of the artists, he looked very attractive. Benedict's hair was a mess, his white shirt was half-open, his sleeves were rolled up. He would never have allowed himself be seen in society like that and you were grateful because otherwise he would have all the girls after him.

—And you want me to...?

—Pose for me.

You weren't quite sure how to do it but it seemed easy and fun. All the times he had drawn you, he had done it when you were distracted, reading, having tea with his sisters... The pencil moved effortlessly across the paper when he saw you laughing with Daphne or playing with the cards that Colin had brought back from his trip to Spain. He was already too embarrassed to admit each time he drew you and Anthony teased him by saying that if he didn't propose to you, he would show you his drawings, and Benedict's heart skipped a beat because he knew that his older brother was not known for being a joker.

Benedict still didn't know how he was going to ask you, maybe it was better to just let it out.

—And what shall I do? Just stand here? Like this? —You laughed and made a dramatic pose like the ones you saw in the paintings in the gallery you visited together.

—I need you to ...

Benedict swallowed nervously. He looked down at your dress and then directly into your eyes. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish. You also looked at your dress to see if there was something wrong with it.

—Benedict I don't think I understand what you are trying to say—

—I need to practice naked female form.

Benedict immediately noticed your horrified face. He wanted to go back seconds ago when he hadn't even asked but if it wasn't you, who would it be? —I will not draw your face. No one will know it is you. It will be purely professional, I just need a few minutes.

You bit the inside of your cheeks and decided to trust him when he said that it would be for professional purposes only. The unfinished nude sketches that made your cheeks burn when you saw them as you entered his studio showed you that Benedict found no inspiration in the bodies of the academy models. After a nervous swallowing, you nodded and Benedict's face lit up. He hugged you but you didn't have time to hug him back because he quickly went to prepare the canvas.

—Is the door locked? —You asked him as you shed the little jacket that covered your shoulders along with your gloves. Benedict rushed off to lock it and before he returned to his position behind the canvas. You called his name and gulped, your hands failing in their attempts to unzip your own dress. —May I please get some help?

—Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.

Benedict stood behind you, his fingers brushing the skin on your back as he began to slowly unzip it until the dress slid down your body and fell at your feet. Benedict felt like he had to look away, as if in a few seconds you would not be completely exposed to his eyes. He offered you his hand to help you get up on a small pedestal that he had in his studio. Once you got rid of your underwear, you felt vulnerable but not as vulnerable as when Benedict ran his eyes over your body from his position and with the paintbrush already in his hand.

He let out all the air he had in his lungs, he couldn't take his eyes off you. Benedict could not deny that he had imagined it on many occasions, but reality far surpassed his imagination.

—What... What should I do, Benedict? —You hugged yourself.

—Put your arms down and stand like that. You look perfect, darling.

Your cheeks burned after that. You did as he said. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration as his eyes went from the canvas to you and back to the canvas. Benedict asked you to turn around and he squeezed his eyes tightly after seeing your bare ass. Purely professional, this was purely professional, he had to remind himself.

Benedict grabbed a wooden chair and walked over to you. Your heart skipped a beat once he was so close to your naked body and he felt the exact same. He placed the chair next to you and invited you to sit on it. He nodded slowly when you did, focusing on the new position of your body. Benedict went back behind the canvas and made a few sketches.

He cleared his throat. —Would it be possible if you... Could you spread your legs?

Your cheeks grew hot and you squeezed your thighs together.

The knot you had in your stomach got tighter and you felt your chest rise and fall slowly thanks to your deep breathing. You straightened your back in the chair and you did as Benedict asked. You felt the air of the room caressing you in that warm and wet area and he held his breath, his chest puffing out as your legs slowly opened for him.

—You are beautiful, darling. Do not be ashamed —. Every new inch he discovered of your body made you look more perfect in his eyes. It was as nice to see you as it was to paint you.

Your cheeks grew even hotter but this time it wasn't just your cheeks, your whole body was in flames starting with the area between your legs that was so exposed to his eyes.

—Could we try another position?

You nodded, relieved, you were sure it was painfully obvious the way you had gotten wet and you just hoped he was busy enough to not notice.

He dropped the paintbrush and got up from the stool on which he was sitting. Benedict felt the knot in his stomach grow tighter with each step he took closer to your naked body. You moved in the chair out of nervousness. Benedict leaned slightly over you. —May I? —He asked before touching your leg. His voice made you shiver, he was so close, you felt his hand brush against the skin of your thigh. You nodded and looked up at him while he repositioned your leg. Benedict's eyes meet yours, so helpless, his lifelong friend, was that innocence in your eyes, or was that...?

Lust.

Your hand grabbed the back of Benedict's head and pressed his lips against yours. His eyes widened in surprise but immediately after, his hands went to cup your cheeks as he fell to his knees in front of you. You opened your legs so he could place himself between them and be closer to you. The shameless hands of your friend traveled down your neck until they reached your breasts. You moaned against his mouth once he gave them a gentle squeeze, the soft palm of his hand brushing against your nipples.

Benedict left a trail of soft kisses from your cheeks to your collarbones and your breasts. He took one in his mouth as his hand played with the other, his tongue moving in circles around your nipple and sucking on it at the same time. Your breathing quickened and your lips parted to let out soft moans when Benedict's teeth brushed your sensitive nipple.

He let go with a pop sound and watched you gasp for air. Benedict placed his hands on the inside of your thighs and caressed your skin there before he slowly pushed them to open even further. His hands prepared you for him, his eyes asked for your permission. You nodded and Benedict flashed you a smile, that was all he needed. He peppered your thighs with kisses, taking small bites and kissing your sore skin afterwards. Your breathing deepened as his mouth got closer to where you needed him the most. He was so close he could smell you and oh Lord, his dick got hard as a rock at that moment.

You took a sharp breath when he licked from your entrance to your clit and savored your juices in his mouth. The image was completely sinful, his blue eyes were locked on you while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves, his hands forced your legs to stay open for him. Your head was thrown back, your mouth was open in a perfect "O" form, your fingers digging into his scalp. Once he noticed the desperation in the way your hips rolled against his mouth, two of his fingers entered you easily. You stifled a loud moan, throwing a hand over your mouth.

Benedict hummed, sending vibrations to your clit.

—Talk to me. How does this feel? —He required.

—So good. It feels... —You bit down your lower lip, his fingers sank deeper. —It feels like heaven.

He was satisfied with your answer.

Benedict fucked you with his fingers until you had to grab his wrist to get him to stop, it was too much. Your legs closed around his head but his lips were still attached to your clit and he didn't stop until he heard how your moans turned into whines and cries, not until he noticed how your back arched off the chair and your chest rose and fell uncontrolled thanks to your panting. Benedict didn't stop, not until he felt how your pussy was clenching so hard that almost pushed his fingers out of you and he heard you moan his name one last time as your grip on his hair tightened.

He gave you all the time you needed to catch your breath, kissing your legs and intertwining his fingers with yours while you came down from your high. Benedict's blue eyes were locked on you making every effort to later recall every single part of you.

—How are you feeling, darling? —Benedict stood on his feet and held your hands so that you would stand up as well. Before you could answer his question, you both realized how your legs were shaking and laughed. At the same time, you felt Benedict's grip on your hands grow stronger to keep you from falling.

Benedict leaned in and kissed your lips in the sweetest possible way. The tickling sensation in your body that you felt when you were naked in front of him had turned into a different kind of tickling, now focused on your stomach. It was so familiar, you had felt it so many times when you looked at him but now, with his lips on yours and his hands treating you with so much affection and care, it was different.

You could confirm that it was not only lust but also love.

You hummed against his lips. —Wait, did you finish your drawing?

Benedict shook his head. —But, please, do not worry about that. I will help you get dressed —. You frowned confused and he gave a quick kiss to your lips so, as he had told you, you would not worry. —I can finish later. There's no way I'm forgetting your body, my dear.

[shaisuki]

Hiiii, do we ever get an origination or backstory for each darling in your JJK yandere stories? Like how did the yandere got y/n to marry them, did they use blackmail or kidnapping 🩵🩵 I really like your stories.

TALES OF UNREQUITED ROMANCE

♱ featuring gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ notes i might write a one shot for each origin. starting from gojo to geto.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ content warnings noncon, babytrapping, villain! nanami, murder, gore, manipulation, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, blackmail, kidnapping, degradation, dark themes. dead dove do not eat.

obsession starts in mysterious ways. unrequited love. forced affections.

GOJO SATORU

a childhood friend to the likes of gojo satoru doesn't bode well in adulthood. now a wife to him. you didn't dream of being a wife. you wanted freedom. away from the hostile environment of the jujutsu society but one can never be gone from the family you grew up with.

your father the clan head of a minor jujutsu family, have ties with the gojo clan and often brought you in clan meetings to learn the way of how the jujutsu society works and then you meet the wielder of the six eyes and infinity. the bearer of the innate technique that is unique to the gojo clan. gojo satoru became your friend in the days of your father's visit. forming an unlikely bond with a sheltered kid like him.

gojo satoru was lonely. you've seen it. the days where you visit is where you only see him smile and you told him there's a vast world outside of the compound in where he lives. the outside world where no one would dictate how he would live his life. servants and maids alike fuss over him. spoiled a kid like him but never allowed to venture the outside world that only he would see is the lark and the walls surrounding him.

satoru once accepted that this is the life he would have for the rest of his days but he was wrong. when he meet you one winter day where the snow came down to earth and there you were covered with snow flurries. staring awkwardly each other before you gathered the courage to speak to him. he likes it. no courtesies or whatever formal shit. you spoke to him normally.

“satoru.” a hushed voice calls out to him and he looks around for where the source of the sound may be coming from. he finds you perched in your brother's shoulders. calling him outside of the wall, enough for you to take a peek. you point at the direction of the deserted part of the compound. “come, no questions asked. we're going outside.” he didn't need to be told twice.

he weren't allowed outside where average humans and curse users alike blend in the crowd wanting his head. his clan forbidden him so but here he are. holding your hand with your brother trailing behind guarding his sister and her friend. gojo looks at the intertwined hands belonging to him and you. your hand is so soft and warm too. it perfectly holds against his own and satoru looks at you and for the first time he might be in love with you.

might is not exact word. he is in love with you deeply but you're not. when you both have grown and his technique was fully awakened, you both drifted apart with the hatred you have for him. he grew but not with emotional maturity that comes with it and you were the subject of his mockery. you were his chubby childhood friend and you didn't shed the weight as you grew older and it attracted satoru's teasing to you until it escalated into something more and you can't take no more of it. you left.

he realized it later years and the clan have come pressuring him into taking a wife to continue the bloodline and the legacy of the clan and he only thought of someone who is perfect for him, you. accepting his proposal and with you being his wife, he would make up for the years for the pain he had caused you.

however life have different plans for him. the proposal was rejected. he met your father asking for your hand but your father refused, saying it's not his place to answer him and it will come from you and that's what he did but you also refused. you won't be tied to a marriage you didn't want and to the person you didn't love. it left a bitter taste to his mouth but he won't give up.

easy it was for him to make you accept his proposal. you loved your family that was your weakness and it took him to accuse your brother of the crimes he didn't commit and exile to your family if proven guilty. you came running back to your family and you asked him what your family did to him to plot such acts against them. you were met with an answer that it was your fault and if you won't accept being betrothed to him, they will suffer.

a wedding took place and after the exchanging of cups, you sealed your fate him much to his pleasure that you will always be bound to him.

“you're beautiful.” he whispers to you. his lips grazing to the shell of your ear. fingers untying the knot in your obi. “i only accepted what you want but that doesn't mean i will love you.” your eyes swelling with tears. “ it's fine you will learn to love me.” pressing a chaste kiss to your neck and your kimono drops to the floor. leaving you bare for his eyes to see. “can we have this for a another night, satoru? I'm not ready.” taking a gulp of air and you shivered from the cold air.

“i've waited long for this, i'm sorry and i won't hold back.” his lips kissing your soft back and you don't think there's a way for you to escape this.

NANAMI KENTO

a sheep in a pack of wolves.

that's how he sees you working in this company and he would say you were too lucky to survive for this long and how did you get here working for this place. this isn't a place for people like you. people here are going to devour you and he's not an exception.

the blood are splattered all over the glass walls. the floor is wet with blood and the pile of corpses increases as a body drops. slicing them with his blade like the body were made of butter. he brings a cloth to wipe his blade clean before putting it to his holster and he was ready to take off then he hears a squeak. nanami removes his glasses upon hearing the noise. he knows it is you before commiting such acts to his coworkers but they're nothing but a soulless flesh to him.

he hears you breathing. staggering as tried to keep it silent and you know what he's really capable of and you have the sense to hide before he wrecked havoc in this company. it was his first massacre and what's better than to slaughter these greedy scums and you're the exception of his punishment.

crawling is all you can do after deciding it was clear for you to get out of the table you were hiding in. cursing yourself earlier after making a sound and you hoped that he didn't hear when he began killing your coworkers and his. you go the warning earlier when a colleague hits the wall after being kicked by him and that was your cue to hide. you didn't nanami that much. reserved and only talks when a conversation is being initiated and you never had much interacted with him before.

turning around to study your surroundings, there was no trace of him except for the dead bodies of your colleagues. bleeding and cold unto the floor with their eyes open and you began to cry softly. thinking how he could do this to everyone and to you. you won't be an exception.

looking at your reflection in one of the glass walls separating you with the others, a scream almost came out from you if it wasn't for the hands clamping to your mouth. it's nanami. staring at you in the reflection of glass and he stops you from screaming but there's no sound you can produce even with his hand covering your mouth and your eyes are the only part of you that screams for help. peering at him with your blurry vision from the tears streaming down your face. “quiet.” he tells you and you nod. not wanting to be killed in a painful death. he let go of your mouth and you cried heavily. you were so tired and the moment your body relaxes, you lost consciousness and the last thing you see is him.

nanami picked your unconscious body before leaving the building and the next day, the killings were on the news with two person missing. you and nanami.

when you woke up the place you were on is soft and realizing you were in a bed. you grabbed your clothing and you were changed in a new set of clothes and then upon looking your surroundings, you see him. sitting in a leather chair dress in his white dress shirt and pair of slacks. reason a book with a glass of wine in his coffee table.

“where am i?” you ask him, confused on why are you still alive and now in a bed with the killer who slaughtered your colleagues with no mercy. “my place.” he answered you. closing the book and standing up to tend you. tentatively touching your cheek and you met his gaze. “why?” you dare ask him and he knows what you meant. “they are scum.” he takes the furrowing of your eyebrows as needing for more answers and why he did spare you. “.... and you're not.”

“can i go home?” his thumb caress the roundness of your cheek. his brown eyes turned cold and then you were doomed when he answered you.

“no. you're going to stay here by my side.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI

you don't pick strays from the street. they will come back and sometimes would abuse you.

your situation with toji was like that. you find him on the verge of death. blood pouring out from his abdomen and bruises littering all over his body when you found him and out of the goodness of your heart, you took him. tended to his wounds until he was healed up and was ready to go wherever he wants and that was your mistake.

you should have left him for dead.

that was close. toji thought when he woke up in a stranger's bed. all patched up and a meal beside him. then a woman appeared, his savior. you weren't his type and he didn't gave you a second look upon greedily shoving the meal you prepared for him and that was it. no thank you and only a grunt. he left the following day and you think that was it? you were wrong.

he came back. and the next and the next.

“you have no business here, toji. there's nothing for you to come back here.” you say it to him. no pause and all sincerity that you're done and he was also done. there was no strings attached and you are strangers. a kindness is all you've given him and he don't need you anymore. end of story but why does he always come back to you.

there was no appeal from you and surely now he would be in another's woman bed. a body of a model with huge assets with their thin legs and a fat wallet for him to take. squeezing them out for his pleasure. one can't resist him. a gigolo he would be now. he always has been. can't stay permanently to one place and moving to another. jumping from woman to woman and surely he could have forgotten you but why would you crossed his mind like you were a bad memory but you weren't. you were good to him. you say you just have took care of him out from kindness and when he comes knocking at your door, you shooed him off. kindness is a treasure one must not give for free and you did it but why won't you let him return the favor. you could have accepted him but you didn't.

fucking bitch. he cursed you every goddamn day that passed. cursing that you should die and leave his thoughts alone for good but what did you do for him to act this way. you're fat and people like you should be kind cause it's the only way you can redeem yourself from being one. yet, he craved you like he yearned for the blood of those who are above him. if you won't accept him, he would make you.

with the blood money he recently received from a anonymous organization, he purchased a penthouse. it cost a leg but it was worth the purchase considering it would be put to a good use. he would use it for you and you will play like a good housewife to him. it was decided from the start that you would be his wife. a place to live in. check. the only one thing that is left is you.

he took you like you rescued him that night. unconscious and waking up in a unfamiliar place. the scar on the corner of his mouth twitches when he smirked at you. panicked and out of breath resisting him but he was quick to place. he knows you won't accept him but he would make. quick to mount you like a stallion to a mare.

gripping the plushness of your body while he fucked his seed inside you. watch as your body jiggles from the impact of his thrust. deaf to your cries and to your pleas. after he dumps his seed deep inside you. you were presented with marriage documents. his signature is already signed and yours is the only left. he says that he's done breeding you and soon a brat will come soon. you needed to be married to him. he won't father a illegitimate child. toji does illegal things but it would be illegal to not marry you.

“come on now, sweetheart. you don't want our child to be a illegitimate one, eh?”

GETO SUGURU

you were just like him. sort of.

ostracized by the monkeys and forced yourself to live in the shadows and that earned you a part of his life. geto suguru runs a cult where he exploits of what he deems as the monkeys of the society. filthy they are as they were dumb.

spewing insults to you for the things they can't see and understand. living in the dark isn't pleasant and geto took you to see the light.

he saved you and you owe him for that and debts must be repaid for what he have done. you get what you have wished for. a place you can call home and a family. the special grade curse user treated you like one and you followed him.

you were perfect. he's a good judge of character. you would be useful to him. a technique and a mind like yours is what he needed for the world he was about to make and you were a maternal figure to his adopted twins. mimiko and nanako always spoke highly of you from how good you were treating them and suguru likes you for that.

you never shared the same ideals as him but he's fine with it. he can't force you on things but with his words that flows like honey coming from his mouth. saccharine sweet that it makes your teeth rotten. completely delusional to his beliefs and how you've survived for long, you adapted to things that would ensure your survival and he made you fall for his words.

that's why it feels natural to you while he disrobe you. how his kisses were far from platonic and not so familiar. stripping you bare while his fingers dip in the plushness of your cunt. hanging to his every words while he molds you to his likeness. a marionette he plays you. pulling you to the strings of what he wants you to do and you get into it. loving every minute of it and you devote yourself to him now.

[amelee23]

Natural | Lee Minho

Genre: FLUFFFFFF fluff fluff, romance

Pairing: Lee know x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: going on a forest vacay to escape society, SUPER sappy cheesy stuff, SOFT, walks at 6 am, kisses and hugs and everything nice, a chokehold as a joke, humour, metaphors galore, he's cat dad, reader gets called kitten once, I love lino very much, promises for the future 🤭

Summary: You and Minho go on a vacation to a forest cabin. As he wakes you up at 6 am for a walk, you can't help but get sappy and admire him alongside the landscape. Your love for him makes Minho say something that might change your perspective of the future.

You were gently shaken awake a little too early for comfort. First thing you felt was the heft of your eyelids and a subtle throbbing in your forehead; but the first thing you remembered, though, was the way you have probably fallen asleep having extremely soft conversations with your lover, about how far the both of you have come, the things you've accomplished, how proud you feel of each other and also of your friends who you grew up with.

"The sun's not even awake yet." You grumble to him, and he gives you a silly smile.

"But I am!" You can't help but snort, still pushing your nose further into the pillows. You didn't want to get out of bed, really. "C'mon, get up. Go on a walk with me."

"At this hour? Ugh, you're so random sometimes." You say, grumbling, but you start moving out of the bed.

It probably wasn't random at all. If you were to make a guess, it was probably premeditated and he had some sort of intention for taking a walk in the woods at 6 in the morning.

Well, he hoped it would be 6 in the morning but your drowsiness didn't allow for it. He had to be patient, make you coffee and a light breakfast, or else you'd turn blue like the cookie monster and eat him alive without food and caffeine in your system.

You looked out the window as the two of you were silently enjoying breakfast. It was such a beautiful sight, and if you just allowed it, the cherry chirp of the birds in the morning was enough to block the demons inside your head.

Although he had woken you up at ungodly hours, this was the vacation you both dreamt of. You rented out a cabin in the forest, and it was, for once, just you and him. The last people you've seen were in a different cabin 10 minutes down the road, and the center rental establishment that had groceries and necessities was 20 minutes away. Of course, it could prove to be a pain in the ass if you didn't prepare well, but you made sure you had everything you needed - so that you could truly disconnect from the world and let yourselves be swallowed up by nature.

You should have guessed Minho was always planning to go on this walk, considering how serious he seemed about it. While you were eating and trying to awaken your brain cells, he got dressed in a cozy shirt, loose pants and a backwards cap and he was already arranging a small backpack with water bottles and his Polaroid camera. He went as far as packing an external phone battery, too. Then he sat down next to you and waited.

You've gotten to know his array of expressions so well, you thought. He was looking at you, and to an outsider his expression would tell them close to nothing. But no, his expression looked gentle, kind, patient, impatient, exasperated and excited all at once. You could see how eager he was to move, almost as if his body was half-way already bolting out the door. Still, he was trying to maintain his calm, since there was no point to the outside views that awaited him if you weren't seeing them with him.

Your eyes met as you were admiring him, and almost like a kitten pawing for attention, he gently pulled at the sleeve of your pyjama shirt.

You were so in love with him, it wasn't even funny.

He began your little nature adventure by holding your hand and guiding you to the forest path, but as soon as you could hear the crunch of pebbles and branches under your feet, Minho was gone. He walked far ahead of you, as if he was caught in a trance. It was so weird, because in reality all you could see was his slumped back, his sluggish figure trudging through the forest, but in your mind he was running, he was twirling, he was opening his arms large to welcome the sun into an embrace. If only he would let the freedom that guides his soul be seen, without the fear of being judged or the weight of society pressing down on him.

You weren't mad he left you behind. In fact, you were having a blast just watching him: trip over a rock when he was too occupied looking at the height of the pine trees, taking pictures with his phone of every and any flower he deemed pretty or interesting, whispering "squirrel" and "hello little buddy" whenever he saw a critter.

He would turn around and look at you once in a while to reassure himself you're there and that you're safe. (And weren't stolen by some forest goblin.) Whenever he'd make a pit stop to take pictures you'd catch up with him and he'd ask you if you're okay, if you're bored or if you want him to slow down his pace. You'd tell him no, you'd tell him he's so endearing being in his natural element. And he'd smile, but it wouldn't be the kind of smile that shows a collection of pearly whites or spreads from one ear to the other. Not even his bunny teeth would show; it would be a closed-lipped, subtle smile, that you found was the most meaningful of them all when it came to Minho. It was the smile of "I feel content", it was the smile of "I feel at peace". Put in simple words, it was the smile of "I'm happy." His happiness was quiet, that was what you observed. And this smile, the truest of them all, showed in various situations: when he was taking walks in nature, when he was preparing a meal, when he was playing with his feline babies, and when he was spending time with you. You were part of his silent happiness, and you were perhaps, one of the only ones who knew what it meant.

And understanding one's personality, one's inner workings is not exactly an easy feat. Just how it took millennia for humanity to understand the laws of the universe, Minho thought it would take decades for someone to understand him. That is, if someone ever did.

But when you arrived, it was as if you were an enforcer fighting for the preservation of nature. A flower is most beautiful when it is on the field that it belongs to, rather than being plucked and put into a bouquet, forced to look beautiful for someone else. You preserved the flower where it was. You didn't uproot it. You gave him water, nourishment and talked to him in such a loving manner, that now he blooms so beautifully.

He's become much more beautiful than a human being should ever be.

Minho stopped one more time to take a picture of the path, and the shadows the trees were casting on the ground. A ray of light sneakily made its way through them, casting itself on a ladybug that was climbing up the tree bark. Minho took a picture of the ladybug, then turned towards the stray light and offered his hand to it. He played with the light between his fingers, let it roll along his palm, and then he put his hand down. He looked up, towards the sky, more golden strands of the sun dancing along his face, and he took a deep breath. When he exhaled, his chest looked lighter, and he seemed to begin to shine, a light sparkle dusting the skin of his arms, as if he was really becoming one with the sun.

He was breathtaking.

Having finally caught up with him, your arms circled his waist and you embraced him tightly, cheek smushing into his shoulder blades. It was an urge, an instinct, to do so.

He seemed a little startled, but he didn't complain. He patted your hands gently and then he took a picture of your hands woven so tightly around his torso, without catching his or your face in the picture. You knew that because it became his lockscreen after that day.

As softly as he could muster, as if to not scare you off, Minho held your hand and spun around to face you, his eyes sparkly and curious.

"Everything okay?"

"Mhm." You respond, holding him by the waist as if to show you didn't want him going anywhere. Minho loved the warmth that enveloped him. "You just looked so natural, so genuine." You smile at him, and he instantly knows by your grin you were having a poetic, sappy moment. "You always look like you belong right in nature. Had to touch you to make sure you're real." You emphasize your words by squeezing a little bit at his hips and the skin above his ribs, and he lets out a cat-like yelp that makes you giggle.

You become an entanglement of limbs when Minho decides to cup both sides of your face as you're holding him. Your face slightly mushed together, he angles your eyes to look into his, and none of you would win the competition of who's more enamoured than the other.

"Sometimes I really can't help but wonder... what are those pretty eyes of yours seeing when you look at me?" He asks in the softest way possible, and you're suddenly caught in a trance. His eyes pull you closer, his skin continues to sparkle, and a gentle warm breeze seems to circle the two of you.

"Magic." You answer, promptly, with certainty, still bewitched by the portrait of him among the trees. He lets out a puff of hair as he chuckles, but he doesn't mock you. He caressed your face with his thumb and you too feel warm.

"Magic?"

"It's like the magic of nature is coursing through you..." You begin to rant, but figure out finding the right words is quite a challenge. But Minho was patient. "It's hard to explain. It's like you're out of this world ... and yet the most human I've ever seen someone be... The most natural." Minho has heard this song and dance before. Countless of times you've called him a forest fairy, a fae, a nymph...but to him the most fascinating part of it was how you were able to tell. You could see where he belonged, where he shone the brightest. You allowed him to realize when he was happy and not be scared of that happiness; therefore, there was only one thought forming at the back of his mind. A thought, that was of course, completely random and not something he's thought about hundreds of times before while you were sound asleep.

"Marry me." He blurts out, and you blink at him, awaiting a grin, a laugh, a smirk, a signal of a joke. But there was none. He was solemn and focused as he watched the slight panic in your gaze.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Yes. I mean, not now. Someday." He answers in a split of a second. But then, he backs out as if burnt. Maybe, just maybe, he let his impulses get the better of him. "Why, do you not feel the same? It's okay, you can tell me if I'm being too pushy-" He's panicking, and panic doesn't fit his handsome features. So you grab him by the shoulders and kiss him with passion.

Kissing Minho was addicting.

"You're the first person I've ever liked kissing this much." You confess to him after you break apart. Then, you wrap your arms around him yet again and rest your head on his chest, your ear prying in to listen to the alarmed pace of his heart. You squeeze him tight, so very tight, almost like he was a teddy bear. "The first person I've liked holding so much." His heart continued to drum, for he was confused about what you were saying. Was he getting an answer to his question or was this your subtle way of switching the subject, saying that you weren't ready yet? Minho tries to calm down in order to focus on what you were saying. "The only one for which romance made sense." You begin to explain, your cheek still tightly pressed into his chest. You're calm and you speak in what is almost a whisper. "Feelings aren't supposed to be logical, I know, but... being with you is. It's logical... it just makes sense, being in love with you. I can never blame myself for it, never hold myself accountable. Because falling in love with you ...came to me as naturally as breathing; like it was always part of my DNA."

There is a nature in all of us. Cells, stardust, but mostimportantly, love. To love is human nature, fact discovered ever since medieval times. Whether you loved God like Dante, or loved humans like Boccaccio, it is destined for all of us to love.

"Because I'm nature...?"

He was human, he was nature, and towards him you felt only that which is most natural.

"Because you're nature. And I love nature." You pull back to look at him and are startled to see the ocean of his eyes, the reflection of stars in the sea. He was trying not to cry, and looking at you with the fondness of a thousand families.

"Nature loves you too, kitten." Once more he holds your face close, but this time around he leans down to kiss you on the forehead. It is a long kiss. It is a warm kiss. It is a meaningful kiss. "The whole world does. And I do even more." Words like these touched chords inside your heart you didn't even know could be touched. Minho always told you so, that you weren't just worthy of his love, but the love of every single person on this planet.

"Yeah, I bet the world loves me if they gave me you." You say, and Minho thinks you are joking. You weren't, but there was perhaps a limit of how sappy a moment can be until it gets truly too much.

"Ew." He jokes back, scrunching his nose to fake disgust. A grin appears on his face, which you mimic.

And that's all you do for a while. Like a movie panorama, you stay there to look at each other. The clouds, the trees, something must have moved with the wind since the sun starts to line both of your faces. One of your eyes starts to squint because of the light, and suddenly it hits you.

"So, are we married now? Where's my ring?"

Minho didn't expect that, and there were a number of reasons why you were sure of it; one, because he starts to blabber and two, because his ears turned red.

"Well, I uh, I uh, don't- I said someday... Not this exact moment! Uhm...Hold on." It's a good thing Minho was a boy scout when he was young, although he would have never thought his skills would come in handy in a situation like this.

You're confused about what he was planning, but you let him do his thing. He squats down next to a group of small, white flowers and plucks them out from the ground in such a manner that their stems remain very long. Then, he picks a strand of grass and takes your hand in his to measure your finger with it. After he has your measurements, he begins to wrap the flower stems around the grass strand with such craftsmanship, almost as if it hasn't been 15 years since he last made a ring out of flowers.

When he is done, he gingerly slides it up your ring finger and he's proud like a child. The ring is cute, tiny and light, and it tickles your finger softly. It's not gold or diamonds, but it is a promise, and it is so much more natural than forged metals and stolen minerals. So much more Minho.

"There you go." He beams proudly. Truth be told, he is flabbergasted he managed to make the ring actually hold without falling apart. "Now we share all of our assets and you are legally obligated to feed my cats when I'm not at home and clean out their litters." He speaks matter of factly, and you slap him on the chest.

"You only want me so I can do your chores! Tsk, I think our marriage is already falling apart." You joke, pretending to turn around and pout. Minho finds you hilarious, especially as he envelops you from the back and holds you in a pretend chokehold.

"The only thing falling apart is gonna be my wallet when I buy you that ring." You don't know if it's the light of the sun or you're blushing, but your face grows hot. Getting married was, of course, the natural order of progressing things in a relationship. But a part of you has always wondered if you are someone to deem worthy of marriage; if that's something that would ever happen to you. Now that such reality was approaching, it did really feel like magic.

Minho released you from the tight hold and decided to walk with your hand in his instead. He was looking at your finger, at the hand-made flower ring, and his quiet, peaceful smile came back to his face.

"I promise I'll get you a real ring soon. You'll have it on your finger by the time we come here again." He speaks softly, in a murmur, but you hear him. You stay quiet, but he sees you nod. You acknowledge his promise, and a completely harmless anxiety mixes in with the excitement that comes with thinking of that day.

"Does that mean we're not gonna have a vacation here for the next 5 years?" Minho rolls his eyes at your question, and the sappiness finally seems to come to an end; you're back to your lighthearted vacation.

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

"Or perhaps I'll make you live in the wild with me for the next five years. If we never leave we can't come back." He wiggles his eyebrows at you, gives you his trademark serial killer look, and there was never a moment when you've loved him more. Never a moment when you've loved him more naturally.

.

©amelee23 do not copy, repost or translate.

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[cutiecusp]

Edelweiss

König x Royal! Reader

(Part two of the Regency AU!)

A Royal visitor from Austria looms over the Ton, and you were the reluctant head of the welcoming committee.

TW/ Regency inaccuracies, soft!König. a kiss (or two)

"Why me?" You ask, as your mother informs you of the evenings plans.

"Because, dearest, you are newly presented to the ton, your sisters are either married off or unavailable." Your mother, the Queen, replies.

You roll your eyes, you had planned on attended the ball, but making a quick escape while you could. You always felt overdressed and stifled in your role, and loved nothing more than to be outdoors in the garden.

"Besides, i hear the King of Austria is looking for a wife," She adds, making you grimace.

Looking for a husband was never expected of you. You were a princess, and it was deemed for you to marry a King when the time was right, but that didn't stop your mother trying to encourage a love match.

Your parents were fortunate, an arranged marriage, but also a love match, if you and your five siblings were to be believed.

You look up from your vanity, eyebrows raised.

"Surely not, Mother. I'm not even sure we speak the same language." You respond, rather crudely.

She just smiles and busies herself with your hair, brushing and pinning it away from your face.

"I hear he is over 6 feet tall, and is an excellent shot." She continues, weaving a braid along the crown of your head.

"What would we have in common?" You ask, picturing a tall behemoth.

"Love works in mysterious ways." Was all she replied.

A few hours later, you find yourself in the ballroom, dressed up like a Christmas tree, opals in your hair and around your neck specifically for your guest. Standing with a glass of lemonade, you hear the excitement as the King is announced.

You had heard he was tall, but you hadn't expected just how tall.

Striding across the ballroom, his eyes were on yours only, pale grey eyes boring into yours.

He greets you with a nod.

"Prinzessin."

"H-hello, Your majesty." You choke out, putting down your glass on the table, before offering your hand. He takes it, and proffers a brief kiss on your gloved hand.

"Forgive me, but i am not the dancing type." He says, a rough accent to his words.

"May we be chaperoned to somewhere quieter, ja?" He asks, his head bent over your smaller frame, looking at you, deeply.

You smile and nod, and urge your maid, Mary to chaperone you both outside. You lead him along the gravel path, the only sound is your footsteps in the cool breeze of the night, leaving the partygoers behind. You stumble and you feel a strong hand grip your upper arm, preventing you from falling, His body close enough to yours to cause whispers in society.

"Are you alright, Prinzessin?" He asks, concern written over his features, the heat of his hand sizzling over your cool skin. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Your voice trapped as his gaze holds yours captive.

You simply nod, and right yourself again, pulling your gaze away from his, and softly moving away, maintaining a space worthy of all those etiquette books you grew up reading.

You definitely weren't thinking about how his touch sent a lick of heat to your lower belly, or how you wondered how his lips would feel against yours... Or why you suddenly were a shy thing, unable to talk.

You walk into the gardens, along the rose bushes, and floral centerpieces you were so proud of, the scent of flowers permeated the air.

"We have beautiful flowers in my homeland." You hear him say.

"Edelweiss is what we are known for the most. Had i known there was a garden like this here, i may have brought some for you." His gruff voice almost the opposite of the rumours you had heard.

"Maybe i shall visit one day." You reply, plucking a few straggly flowers from the path.

"You would be welcome, When your Mutter had written to me, inviting me here to court you... I had-" You cut him off.

"My mother? What has she-" realisation struck.

"Shes matchmaking, isn't she." You realise, understanding blossoming through you.

König has the grace to blush, and avert his gaze.

"When i had heard of the Prinzessin who loved flowers and was rumoured to be extremely intelligent, and beautiful, i had to see for myself. no?" He continued, his eyes flashing dark.

"And the rumours were true, my little wildflower. You are radiant."

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to look away, you stand there, holding the flowers to your body.

"W-well, thank you, your majesty. But i must say-"

"Permit me to kiss you, Prinzessin." He asks, not letting you finish the sentence.

"If its our duty to marry, then we must see if we are compatible in other ways. no?" He takes a step further to you, hidden by the garden wall, your gaze flicks to your maid, who quickly turns around, but not before you can see a smile on her face.

You nod, cheeks aflame.

"Liebling, i need words, please."

"Y-yes, kiss me, please." You whisper, your voice low enough for only him to hear."

He cups your face, cradling your cheeks in his rough hands, his eyes searching your soul as he lowers his lips to yours, brushing over them softly.

You make a small whimper in the back of your throat, body singing with passion, as he explores your lips, opening you up to him like a flower on a sunny day.

Steadying your hands on his hips, you wait until he pulls away slowly.

Regaining your senses, you open your eyes, your cheeks pink, and your eyes wild with lust.

You feel his hands enclose around yours.

"Very compatible indeed."

a/n. i liked that this one was a little bit longer than a drabble. i didn't want to follow too similarly to Daisy But i wanted a little cutesy/ soft vibe. I hope you like it! and a mega thank you to you beauts liking an commenting, it makes my day!

@xoxunhinged @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @enjisbf @frudoo @muneca-lemon-steppa @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx

[p-seduonym]

Being the Younger Sister of Yandere Albert James Moriarty

Author Note: I still don't know what I'm doing, but here's some headcanons, I guess idk.

You were the youngest child, and only daughter, of Count Moriarty.

In a noble family with two elder sons, your existence was often forgotten.

An elder son would become the heir, while the second son would only be there in case something happens to the eldest son. And the only daughter? Her fate was to inevitably be married off to another noble family.

You would have been neglected, left to the care of disinterested servants.

If it weren’t for your eldest brother.

Albert adores you - innocent, pure, untainted you.

He sees himself as your sole protector against a cruel and uncaring society.

Even against his own family…

You were too young to realize their true nature, so Albert had to watch you hopelessly pine for the love of your family.

It would be impressive, your tenacity, if it wasn’t so pitiful.

You seemed to always trail after them with the most innocent of smiles, despite your father’s dismissal, or your mother’s shrillness, or your second brother’s cruelty.

Albert couldn’t bring himself to dismiss you like the rest of his family, and of course you would grow attached to the only one who showed you a hint of kindness.

He shares many memories with you: your first steps, your first words, etc.

The little time he spends at home is taken up by you, whether it be reading a new story to you or strolling through the garden together.

Albert enjoys the small moments with you, the only one he considers his family. 

However, he does worry about you…

What would your future be? You were protected by your brother now, but what about when you came of age? He knew his father was already looking for some suitors for you from wealthier families.

Would you be subjected to a loveless marriage like many girls before you? As a pawn for your parents?

That’s when he met two brothers…

Albert would never allow you to be involved with his plans.

He promised himself that, as he left the flaming wreckage of the manor, carrying you alongside William and Louis.

It’s somewhat difficult in the beginning; it wasn’t strange why you seemed scared and withdrawn. But many were confused why you didn’t seem to recognize your older brother…

But William assured people, with a seemingly pained smile, that the fire likely had a toll on you mentally. It was hard, he said, but as long as you were safe and healthy…

No one has the heart to question him, a child who has lost everything, or Albert, who easily supported his claim.

You grew up to be a pampered noblewoman.

You live with your brothers in a quaint little manor with a lovely rose garden.

Louis, your third brother, was a quiet yet devoted man. The house was always impeccable under his management. Still, you worried about how hard he worked sometimes.

William, your second brother, was a marvel. Even when he was young he was seemingly blessed with endless knowledge. A true prodigy, he was.

However, you were closest with your oldest brother, Albert.

From a young age, he was there to take care of you. He oversaw your etiquette lessons, brought you along to his charitable work, and showered you with gifts and attention.

But, if you were hard pressed, you would say you weren't fond of his protectiveness.

You had no friends outside your family and staff, and Albert would turn away any potential suitors.

You loved him, but it seemed he was determined to keep you as his precious little sister.

[enbysiriusblack]

sirius who doesn't care when he realises he's gay. it's something that's heard of (his uncle alphard is out as gay), just not super common. he knows his family won't particularly care as long as it doesn't get in the way of him having children (magic gay pregnancy totally exists, guys). and he is aware it is deeply frowned upon in the muggle world, but that there are still large communities of people like him- and he finds that idea compelling anyway. he's never one to shy away from who he is & he immediately accepts himself once realising.

remus who gets extremely upset when he realises he's bisexual. he wants nothing more than to be normal, to be the average 'joe', to fit into society. he's aware it's more accepted in the wizarding world than the muggle world, but it's still not the norm. and he wants more than anything to fit the norm and it's just one more thing pulling him away from being normal. i think he'd absolutely hate himself for it, denying it and pushing the feelings down as much as he can. and he'd always struggle with showing public displays of affection with another man.

james who doesn't care when he realises he's bisexual. in my head, his mother is bisexual and out anyway, so he grew up with that being a very normal thing. he'd always tell his parents or friends his crushes on anyone with ease. he'd never even thought of it as something to be embarrassed by. and he knows that some people may look down on him or hate him for his bisexuality but screw them anyway, he can always just hex them.

peter who kinda just panics when he realises he's gay. his mum is a lesbian in my head, and he grew up in a queer community but they were poor and outsiders, and he knew the successful, powerful people weren't like them. and he'd always hoped to be just that. so in realising he's gay, it's more panic and frustration. he's aware james is outwardly and unashamedly gay, which makes him feel a bit better, but the other cool kids aren't.

[twentiethcenturyboyy]

"Confrontation": Marrissey

A/N:

- It's been a while, good lord.

- This is another one of those things which i wrote purely for my own and my friends' enjoyment, but here you go.

CW: This is an angst involving Morrissey and Johnny Marr of The Smiths. Nothing really to warn you about other than swearing.

WC: 828

It was the autumn of 1986, a few months after the first anniversary of Johnny and Angie's wedding. The studio was quiet, and only the sound of a pencil scribbling roughly on paper could be heard. Morrissey was sat at a piano, one leg draped over the other, and a notepad on his lap. Of course, he was writing lyrics for The Smiths' next album.

Mike and Andy went out to get lunch while Morrissey was occupied, which left him and Johnny alone together in the small recording space; a situation Morrissey couldn't decide if he liked or not. Morrissey had taken a liking to Johnny when they met back in 1978, something which never seemed to fade. No, it grew over time and blossomed into a shameful yearning for romance towards his bandmate. But due to obvious reasons, he could never let Johnny know about these feelings.

He couldn't care less about what society would say about him or what would be written on the headlines of all the top magazines. It was Angie. Angie was always in the way. Ever since Johnny was 14, he knew Angie was the one, and he was right. Those two stuck to each other like magnets, and Morrissey hated that Johnny's magnet just didn't want to let go of her.

He sighed and scribbled some more ideas down, until the page he was working on had reached its end.

"Johnny?"

"Yeah, Moz?" He said, looking up from changing the strings of his guitar.

"Would you kindly pass me my pencil tin from my bag? I need to sharpen this pencil I'm using and I'm sure my sharpener is in there." Morrissey wiggled his pencil in the air as a gesture.

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

Johnny got up and headed outside of the recording room to the corridor where all of the band's belongings are.

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

It was a solid 5 minutes before Johnny came back. Morrissey didn't notice his entrance until he heard a thud on top of the piano.

"Care to explain yourself?" Johnny said in a way in which you could tell he was trying to be nice, but was failing rather miserably.

Morrissey looked up from his notepad to see his leather journal on the lid of the piano. It was open, and he knew exactly what Johnny had seen. He used that journal as a diary mostly, but sometime he'd write love letters dedicated towards his songwriting partner; the journal was open on one of those pages. He gulped.

"Steven. Answer my question." Johnny said, more bluntly this time.

"Have you been snooping?" Morrissey questioned, evidently a little distressed.

"No, actually." He crossed his arms. "Your journal fell out of your bag while I was searching for your sharpener. The bookmark came out too, so I tried to put it back in the right place. The things I came across in that book, Steven..."

"Are you mad?" Morrissey's eyebrows furrowed.

"No- I... I don't know, just... what the fuck, Steven!"

"I-I'm sorry!" He exclaimed, almost a yelp.

"I'm married, Steven! I have a wife!"

"I know! I know! I'm sorry! You weren't supposed to find out this way!" He began to pace, hands on his head, whispering  exasperated "oh christ"s and "oh goodness"s to himself.

"Then how was I supposed to find out, Steven?"

"You- you weren't!" He spluttered.

"You can't just do this!"

"But I still love you. I always have!" Tears ran down the man's face.

"Then stop! Because you know I can't be with you!"

The room falls silent for a moment. Morrissey leans against a wall, sobbing into his hands. The two stay quiet until Morrissey wipes his tears and sniffs.

"Why? Because of Angie?" He scoffed sardonically.

"Leave Angie out of this..."

"That's the reason isn't it?! If Angie wasn't in the way we could be happy!" He spat.

"No, Steven-"

"Then what is it?! If it's not her, then what is it?!"

"Forget about Angie. I don't like you in that way, Steven." He said sharply.

"What do you mean?" Morrissey's shoulders drooped.

"I don't like men." He sighed.

"But... but what about all those times we went out together? When you were close to me. When you clung to me while you were drunk. What about that time when- when you kissed me?" He began to cry again.

"It was friendly banter, Steven. And besides, it was only a quick kiss on the cheek. You're borderline delusional to think we could've ever been a thing."

Johnny grabbed his jacket and quickly walked out of the studio, (presumably to go and find Mike and Andy, wherever they may be) leaving Morrissey stood there, tears endlessly welling in his eyes, feeling like he'd just been shot.

Those words stung Morrissey harder than anything he'd ever experienced or heard before.

"Listen." Johnny continued. "I don't have an issue with you being gay. I don't care about that. Just... just forget about this."

[everlastingday]

wip wednesday

i am sending all my love to all my american friends, especially my queer and bipoc friends. i have no words for how truly awful this all is, and my heart goes out to everyone who is affected by this in any way, shape, or form. please be kind to yourselves, and stay safe 💜

i wasn't sure if it was appropriate to share anything today, but @heartstringsduet's post inspired me, and i hope that this can at least distract you from everything else for even just a minute, so here is a snippet from the prologue to my tarlos dark academia au.

--

Carlos remembered the day that he first stepped off the bus and onto the grounds of the Valentia Institute as if it were yesterday. The crisp autumn air, the sun peeking through the foliage, the smell of fresh-cut grass — it was as if he'd stepped off the one-way bus and into a different dimension. One that was trapped in time, and never seemed to age along with the rest of the world. No matter what happened over the next few years, he could never bring himself to hate the place. It was truly magical, both figuratively and literally.

The Valentia Institute was a place where mages were created. Anyone could attend, in theory, as long as they had enough magic running through their veins. That was the deal — give the Institute three years sequestered away from the rest of the world, and the world would be your oyster. It wouldn't matter what your socioeconomic status was before you entered the Institute; once you were an Institute graduate, it unlocked almost every door in society for you. 

Carlos never wanted to learn magic. He had the affinity, sure, and sometimes it came in handy when he needed to light the fireplace quickly, but he never yearned for it the way that others did. He liked his life —he had a steady job working in the city as a social worker, and while it wasn't the most prestigious job, he liked it a lot. He liked feeling like he could make a difference in other people's lives. His life was simple. Uncomplicated. Perfectly fine.

His life irreversibly changed four years ago when his best friend, Iris Blake, got accepted into the Valentia Institute. He was happy for her, truly. They grew up together, and even studied to become social workers together, but while he was content with working directly with the people on an individual level, he knew she always wanted more. She wanted to be the one making laws, changing policy, and making widespread changes. 

The Institute's rules were public knowledge. Three years without any contact with the outside world, and after that, its students entered back into the world as fully-formed mages, instantly rising to the upper echelons of society. Magic played a strange role in society. It was ultimately still secondary to the curse of capitalism, but if you weren't born wealthy, it was the fastest way to climb up the social ladder. There was, of course, also just the inherent prestige that comes with wielding magic; its powers are undeniable, and a mastery of any magical affinity automatically made you a valuable member of society. 

Three years passed, and Iris never came back out, and Carlos just knew in his bones that something wasn't right. In the initial months, he tried to investigate what happened to her on his own. He'd filed a missing persons report, but the police weren't doing anything about it. His friends and family told him that she probably just found a better opportunity somewhere else, and that three years was a long time. Maybe she just moved on in her life, and forgot to look back. 

But Carlos never believed that for a second. He knew Iris. She wasn't the type of person to just leave without a word, and when applications for the Valentia Institute opened up, he knew he needed to take matters into his own hands. The Institute was notoriously secretive. Sure, everyone knew it existed, but beyond the most basic knowledge? It was a locked vault. Nobody even really knew where it was located, though it was widely speculated that it was likely somewhere in New England. Carlos had a lot of questions, and he knew that the only way he was going to get some answers was to find them from within the Institute itself.

--

open tag for anyone who feels up to it, and please feel free to tag me as well 💜

[transtalesofdoom]

The Egg Years and being Cis-Adjacent

I originally made this blog to talk about my new and exciting trans experience, so let's go do that. Long post, obviously and I just figured out how to do the Keep Reading thing

I didn't have any inherent dysphoria growing up, I was just a bit of a not-like-other-girls tomboy. Jeans were comfier than dresses, boobs and bras were sooo inconvenient, make up just meant more effort. Books and video games were more fun than going out to party. I wasn't good at dancing anyway. And don't even get me started on shaving your legs.

It became obvious to me that I wasn't strictly cis pretty much as soon as I learned that gender wasn't binary. It was common sense, really. If gender is a spectrum, very few people would actually find themselves on the very end of either side. So most people were just close enough to either end of the spectrum to consider themselves cis. Including myself.

As my understanding of gender grew, it became more and more ridiculous to assume anyone was 100% cis. There's always some criterion you don't fully meet. Of course, people could still use and identify with the label of cis, clearly there was some sort of leeway. But calling myself cis started to feel wrong. It felt like I was ignoring the very nature of gender as a vast spectrum by picking a label rooted in the binary. I was cis, but in a queer way. I started calling myself cis-adjacent when talking to other queer people.

I never had a "problem" with my assigned gender at birth, outside of the patriarchy and sexism and periods, but those weren't trans reasons to resent being a woman. Being a woman suited me well enough. I wouldn't have cared if I wasn't, if I woke up one day without boobs, I'd just go on and fit into shirts much more easily. I considered "gender-apathetic" as a label, but ultimately it felt like too much hassle for something I was indifferent about.

Really, that was what it came down to. I was close enough to being cis, I didn't have any internal problems with calling myself a woman or living as one. Sure, there probably was something more accurate for me out there, but I knew about the struggles trans people faced. A good friend of mine had come out as trans and started his transition. I was happy for him, but I also got to see the difficulties it brought to update paperwork and book appointments and constantly emailing professors about your new name and pronouns. Not to mention the whole coming out to family thing. Or transphobia. There wasn't enough suffering in me to submit myself to this much effort and misery. Or force everyone in my life to learn a new set of pronouns and name for me, irrevocably changing every single relationship I had in the process. I didn't even want to be a man anyway. Just look a little more like one.

And I could easily present pretty masculine without transitioning. I only wore pants anyway. And hoodies were super comfy. I cut my hair short more than once. I considered buying a binder, just to see what that would do for me, but every time I tried looking into it, I just got overwhelmed and, like I said, there wasn't enough suffering to justify spending 50 bucks and at least one extensive research session on it. Ironically enough, during my last year as cis-adjacent, I finally reconnected with a part of my femininity and wore dresses to special occasions again.

However, a new problem had found my body: The unstoppable passage of time. I wasn't a perky teenager anymore. My body gained weight, my boobs succumbed to gravity, and I had very little in common with what was considered a beautiful woman. Even a beautiful butch woman didn't look like me. No one beautiful looked like me, really. I told myself that I had a lot of internalized misogyny and fatphobia to unlearn. That the reason I started disliking my reflection was social conditioning. I was right about that, of course. But there was more to it that I, in my self-righteous blaming of society, didn't acknowledge.

Until the last full moon night of 2023, when my mirror reflected a ghost back at me.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

VH - Turn over

A menacing silhouette stepped into the prison and stared at the hero in silence. Behind the bars, the prisoner raised his shining eyes, looking very frail and helpless.

“Oh no,” he whimpered, twisting his hands. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I beg of you, Villain, I’m-”

The other cut across him, shaking his head:

“You can stop.”

“But-”

“I know who you are. You’re the hero who’s an invincible vampire, aren't you? You don’t have to pretend. I surrender.”

“Ah.”

Hero slowly grinned, showing his pointed teeth, looking a lot less helpless:

“Good.”

Villain nodded slightly and sat on the chair in front of the cell, his eyes fixed on the ground, his hands clasped in front of him. The other tapped on the bars to get his attention:

“I gotta ask, do you imprison every guy who you surrender to?”

“I know this can’t hold you for long-”

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“-but I wanted to talk.”

Vampire Hero groaned:

“We’re not doing that. If you think I have time for listening to how amazing or blameless you are, I’d rather drink you until you collapse.”

“No, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

Villain hesitated for a moment, then said, avoiding his gaze:

“When did you realize you were on the bad side?”

“Uh?”

“Before you switched, I mean. When did you realize you were...well, evil?”

Vampire Hero tilted his head, intrigued:

“Since the beginning? I mean, I liked to cut animals and make my whipping boy suffer when I was a toddler. That wasn’t really hard to put two and two together. I'm an asshole, not an idiot.”

“A whipping boy, you mean-”

“A literal whipping boy, yeah. Father offered me one and punished him every time I misbehaved. That was a good birthday gift, a long time ago.”

“So being a vampire hasn’t corrupted your soul or-”

“Nah. Can’t corrupt what’s already rotten.”

“I see.”

There was a moment of silence. Villain didn’t move. Vampire Hero huffed a little, his patience growing thin.

“How can you look so lost in your own prison?”

“It wasn’t like that for me.”

“Oh there we go, the monologue. Keep going, and I’ll rip off the bars of the cell and come for you next.”

“Go ahead, I won’t use it anymore.”

A bar creaked in answer. Villain didn’t look up once.

“I thought my work was for the best,” he said after a while. “I thought us with powers deserved more of society. Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t care.”

“Surely you must have. A little.”

“We’re not from the same time, remember? I had a castle and servants and human toys. Society never bothered me much.”

“It must have been nice, not having to care.”

Vampire Hero shrugged.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Didn’t work out that great for me, did it?”

“I had to care. I had to cling to life every day to survive. I was nearly killed by people thinking I was a freak because I had powers.”

“It doesn’t look like they did a great job, then.”

Villain raised his head a little:

“I just wanted a place where we weren't bullied all the time, so I created my own group. As it grew, so did our ambitions-”

“Aw man, that is gonna take a while.”

Sulking, the vampire threw himself on the ground and began to fidget with the bar he had ripped off. While he bent it as easily as it was clay, Villain kept on, barely giving him a glance:

“I thought that no one listened to us, you see? So we had to make people listen.”

“Except that it doesn't make sense. Since when are powers a problem here? I don’t know much about the outside world, but even I know that heroes are adored and stuff. They have fanclubs and everything.”

“But you have to be a hero, that's the problem. If you can teleport and want to be anything else, like a baker or something, you’re shamed by society unless you hide who you are. If you’re born with powers, the hero agencies are already breathing on your neck.”

“I find this expression offensive. Look, I’ve made a noodle!”

Villain glanced at the twirled bar the vampire was playing with:

“Very nice.”

“Thank you. I used to twist any iron bar that I had in my hands. It makes so much more damage when it pops out of the body.”

Villain stared at the wall for a second and cleared his throat:

“...Anyway, we were building a community. I met my first friends and my lover there.”

“Congrats. I don’t care.”

“As with all communities, tensions grew. I wanted to take more action. I thought that protests weren’t enough.”

“Yeah, I’ve read your file. Killed a lot of humans and exploded a lot of stuff. Classic.”

“I wanted to be heard! Our group went from inefficient to dangerous, but where is the limit? Where is the perfect middle spot?”

“No idea.”

“Me neither. My husband tried to bring me back to protests, but I wouldn’t listen to him. We argued until the moment when I- when he-”

Villain turned his head away:

“I tried to keep on, but it doesn’t make sense without him. Our community is riffled with conflicts. None of it makes sense anymore. So I surrender.”

He stood up and pulled out the key of the cell from his pocket. Vampire Hero squinted at him, curious despite himself:

“So, how did you kill your husband?”

Villain looked at him, horrified:

“What? I didn’t! He left me.”

The door opened. Vampire Hero jumped on his feet and burst out of his cell, chirping:

“Let’s go!”

He passed next to Villain and went through the exit, leaving the latter staring at him:

“Are you- Aren’t you going to drink me or something-”

The hero shrugged and patted his arm, a little smile on his face:

“Eh. I’m not hungry.”

*

Vampire Hero is a recurring character. His job is to troll current villains. Check the Vampire Hero Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with him.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

[murdockmeta]

A Human Fly: The Importance of Daredevils Before Daredevil

I've recently watched a video on "human flies", a social phenomenon that peaked in the 1920s-30s, where people would go out and do death-defying tricks literally just because they wanted to. (At first. Money became involved later, of course.) They were called human flies (sometimes human spiders, human lizards, etc.) for their ability to climb up the walls of buildings so easily. They weren't just called human flies, though. They were also called daredevils.

The video I watched talked about how this phenomenon was so popular because of the role it played in displaying masculinity. Most of these daredevils were men, and at the time being seen doing these death-defying stunts was the height of manliness. And suddenly, while learning all this new information, all I could wonder is if that at all was related to Stan Lee's motivation behind the creation of Matt Murdock. Anyway, here we go.

Okay, so, gender roles and how they functioned in society around the first half of the 20th century are similar but also different from what they are now. There were stiffly set rules to what it meant to be a man that was entirely unrelated to genitals. These same standards are echoed in the modern day. I don't think it's a coincidence that Matt falls outside of those rules.

Obviously, Matt's blind. Disabled. And, as a fictional character, that had really heavy (negative) implications before the disability rights movement became more popular. You even see that reflected in the comics themselves. There's the implication that Matt is expected to live out his life unhappy, unmarried (which extends to not having children), and is helpless to such a fate. That is the complete opposite of what being a man in US American culture was in the 1950s and 60s. Matt exemplified what it was to not be a man.

Stan Lee, when co-creating this character, takes these concepts that absolutely oppose one another and he smashes them together. It feels like spitting in the face of standards and expectations. He says, "Oh, look, a blind man. A man that can't be a man. I'm going to take him and I'm going to turn him into something that is undeniably manly." Lee does this through this phenomenon that links back to human flies.

Being a human fly was about proving to the people around you that you were a man among men. That you were capable of physical feats that others only could wish to accomplish. And Lee grew up in a time when he was surrounded by these types of people as a child. Most of these people would travel to New York City, where Lee grew up, just to perform these stunts.

How masculinity was defined in that age was rigid. You had to be strong, you had to be capable, you had to have the ability to provide for your family. There were certain elements that also took away from your masculinity. You couldn't be too smart or bookish, you couldn't be too skinny, you couldn't be disabled. And being able to fit into these standards wasn't just about pride, it was about social status.

These human flies were often referred to as daredevils by newspapers. It doesn't seem like much of a reach for me to think that they could've possibly related to Lee's creation of Daredevil.

This strip is from the second issue of volume one.

It was revolutionary* (asterisk), to an extent, what Lee was implying with his creation of Matt's character. That you could be disabled and still be fully capable of accomplishing what society has deemed impossible for you or deemed you unworthy of. That you could represent the peak of masculinity (meaning you could be perceived as an equal to those around you) while having supposed qualities that strike you from it.

I'm not saying that that's a goal that every disabled/blind person has or should have. In fact, under a modern lens, I think it's very counterproductive. But, I think the social and cultural context surrounding the character's creation is important to understand. I think it's important to know why implying those things at the time was important to disabled representation.

Many people don't like or struggle to read older comics due to them aging badly. While I don't blame them, I think there would be less resistance if people stopped trying to interpret those comics through a modern lens.

Context is important. History is important.

(asterisk) *This is in relation to the time-specific era of disabled representation. This is not to ignore the problems with the representation of Matt as a blind man. I'm not saying or implying that there's nothing wrong with the original comics, in fact, they are incredibly ableist. I am simply focusing on the importance of that representation at the time of the issues being published.

Thanks for reading.

[punkpandapatrixk]

The Kind of Sad You Can’t Understand

Certain days I feel very deeply that I want to cry but I don’t know why.

For such a long time I lived with this kind of mood without being able to express it anywhere, not to anyone. I was struggling for my sanity; I was constantly thinking of destroying myself; and I was hoping someone would see me, and rush to save me. But nobody ever saw that of me.

I was a badass. I was a cool girl. I seemed to everybody else a smart, talented, expensive girl who's got all her shit together. Even on days she wasn't all that together, she had an enviable life anyway. I appeared on the outside too glamorous for anybody to even imagine that on the inside I was rotting. I was this close to being dead, all the time.

Who in their simple-mindedness would've thought a girl like that could be so macabre all the time? And that’s how I experienced an entire life witnessing people’s lack of empathy. I guess my point of view was fragmented but that was how life was for me anyway. Ironically, some intuitive peeps who were able to see the macabre in me thought I was frightening more than anything HAHAHAH That was all the same in the end. Enough with the gossips. I don’t know what normal people expect from everybody else they meet, to be honest. I don’t know what I’d expected from them either.

I guess it’s because the society I grew up in was like that that I couldn’t bring myself to show anybody my distress. Trauma. Mental illness. Disordered personality. All of that was nothing but insanity. And insane people don’t belong in society.

So simple. Yet so cruel.

Thank you, Jesus. Mother Mary. Catholic Church. Thanks for all the rejection. I’m SO happy now!

That’s fucking twisted.

In a society brimming with nothing but pretenders, we meet and chit and chat and act like all of our troubles are manageable to say the least. ‘Yeah, it’s not that bad, to be honest.' But it was; you've just got to pose real strong otherwise people think you're a loser. 'I guess I’m OK.’ But you weren't; you've just got to really make it sound like you're still keeping it together. 'I'll be just fine.' But you wouldn't know; you didn't even know if you'd still wanna be alive tomorrow.

In the midst of all those meaningless exchanges, I hated quite nothing more than to hear, especially from men, how strong I was as a woman. I hated it like I'd never hated anything in my life.

It was suffocating to be seen as holding it together when you were literally breaking at the seams...

I wanted someone to be able to notice I was screaming on the inside. That I was gasping for air every second I was sitting there listening to their trivial chitter chatter. Who cares about your silly drama? Would you care for mine if you knew my life was on the line? And I hated those expectant eyes. All of them. Were they expecting me to share in their self-made woes and console them in the end? HAH. Go to hell, losers.

I always thought, none of MY problems were created by my own reckless behaviours that would've obviously hurt myself or others. Not in the beginning, at least. Unlike some idiots, I was never into drugs, one night stands, or even smoking; I never caused anybody any trouble. So why did everybody cause me trouble when all I wanted was just a peaceful, normal life? Shit, what even was my IDEA of a normal life? I can't remember now.

Certain days I feel very deeply that I want to cry but I don’t know why. There's always not enough reason to do so now. Haah... If it weren't for my abundance of Aquarius, which makes me incredibly lazy and antisocial, I'd have paraded around town and rallied to become a Neo Hitler and kill everybody in this rotten world. I hated this world so much.

The first ever PAC I put out here was ‘What’s Your Crazy?’ What ever was my reason for writing that? I was crazy and I needed some explanation.

I used to look like the girl in the third pic before I chopped all of my hair off everyone began to suspect I was gay. I wasn’t gay; I was depressed. Those unassuming idiots.

[peaches-and-pity-points]

Tangled AU

I've never liked the isekai angle of Twisted wonderland much. I've deqveloped an alternative way of looking at things to suit my fancy.

Per the name; the player is in a tangled situation. The sole heir to a kingdom, stolen away in the dead of night as a baby and raised by the man (because twst) who took them. Maybe he was in love with the queen, spurned by her rejection and took the only child she'd ever have as penance. Maybe its closer to form and the queen took a plant he needed to keep himself young and alive indefinitely, and the child simply being around had that same effect. Something no one would notice if they weren't looking for it.

Your father home schooled you; taught you everything you know. He restricted your interactions with the outside world and any online activity. But he knew best. He loved you after all, he just wanted to keep you safe. He told you your mother died giving birth to you, that's why he's so protective. You grew up in a cottage, far away from society. The world was dangerous, he warned. You shouldn't trust anyone but him, especially other men! Anyone else might want to hurt you or steal you away.

Magic existed in fairy tails and nothing more, that's what he told you as you did all the cooking and all the chores. Then, one day, you woke up in a coffin to a cat weasel trying to strip you.

The place you come from? These people have never heard of it. Are you sure its real? Of course! Your father wouldn't have lied to you about that. You must have come from another world. You don't have any magic inherent to you, but my! You're a beast-master/tamer! Fear not, this fruity headmage will probably look for a way to send you home! Maybe! After all, the mirror said there's no where you belong!

And its right. You were stolen away from your actual family as an infant. You don't belong there anymore. You don't know them, and they don't know you're even alive. Your father kidnapped you as a baby for his own selfish purposes. You don't belong there. Its not a home or a place of love. Its a prison.

Thus the game's events unfold. Perhaps there's an epilouge of sorts, where you're seen on TV by your birth parents and your "father". You look so much like the queen, there's no doubt you're their child. The headmage is in for such a surprise when this royal couple appear in his office, demanding to see the prefect. They must be mistaken! The prefect isn't even from this world! But, ah... Their child was kidnapped as a baby, weren't they? W- Well, they don't even have magic? What's this? The queen too, is a beast-master/tamer? Oh, w- well... Oh. They-- They know the prefect's blood type, of any and all birth marks and that they may or may not be a girl (depending on the player)? That's disconcerning! Time to meet with them!

I can't imagine it goes smoothly... "You're our kid, actually and the man who raised you is really a monster and kidnapped you as a baby." Yikes. Tough break, prefect. You don't leave with them like they want you to, but they give you space to process this shit. Sharing this development with your friends is mostly fruitless. They offer you support and comfort, but there's not much they can really do for you.

A few nights later, and as Grim is getting snuggly in bed with his hench-human, they suddenly get up. They don't respond to anything he says and they nearly run him over when he gets in front of them! Then, they even go outside barefoot/in just their socks and sleep clothes! Really, its a good thing the school grounds are crawling with your stalkers-- Er, I mean, your friends! One of them catches you on your apparent way to the gates, and carry your ass back to their dorm for safe keeping.

When you wake up, you're wrapped snuggly in bed with Grim. Its just that its a housewarden's bed. After explaining to you what happened, everyone is wracking their brains on who would want to potentially kidnap you. Its strange. You don't remember anything out of the ordinary happening before going to bed. Just that... Well, you could have sworn you'd heard the lullaby your dad used to sing to you as a kid as you fell asleep. But that couldn't be related... Right?

[melodyofsky]

Yandere Kuvira with winged reader

Authors note: I came up with this on a whim, not read over. Sorry!

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

In a world where after Kuvira reunited the Earth Kingdom and imprisoned Korra. The secret society of hybrids, you included, was revealed. You become close to her. She soon finds out your secret and brings you to "safety" Now she never wants you to leave.

/

"Hello dear" One of the first things you heard as you woke up, you try stretching your (Favorite color) wings out of instinct only to remember the metal collars Kuvira put on them to make you stop using them to get away from her. "Oh, good morning Kuvira" You say a tiredness still in your voice "Today I have a gift for you since you've been so good for the past few months" You tilt your head at her comment "We're going out side today, dear" You sit up from the bed. Finally a chance to escape, you could leave this wrenched place. "Ok I'll get changed"

/

The garden she took you too was stunning. Butterflies fluttered gentle everywhere. Flowers grew quietly while swaying. Everything looked perfect, if it weren't for the obsessed dictator sitting behind you preening your (Favorite color) wings, small bruises that looked like the metal bits that kept you down, were on them. "Great Uniter, an urgent matter has come up, you need to come right away" Kuvira turns your way to address you "I'm going to be gone for a little bit, you can travel inside and outside on your own accord. Goodbye"

After she leaves you head inside to pack a small bag

/

"FIND THEM! FIND THE WINGED" Multiple men run through the forest as you jump from the tree as quietly as you can. You can see the freedom of the cliff! Due to Kuvira constant locks on your wings you have trouble flying, you can barely guild at this point. As you jump the tree, almost getting past that cliff you are pulled back cold, metallic grip. You turn to face the monster herself, Kuvira, "I thought I could trust you" She drops you on the ground. Stomping on your head, knocking you out. Muttering something before you fall asleep.

/

You wake up. Stinging pain is still present in your head. Your wings feel like they're in metal so do your wrist. "You're awake" Kuvira says in a cold callus voice. You try to open your eyes only to be greeted with a bright beam of light gleaming down at you. "H-huh. What...?" You say in confusion, "You lied to me and betrayed my trust after I so graciously took you in. Give me one reason why I shouldn't crush your wings" She says walking away from you. "W-Wait! Kuvira please!-" You try to plead with her. You're on the brink of tears when suddenly Kuvira closes the metal on your wings together. You scream bloody Mary. She starts to slowly close them together but after what feels like hours, she stops. Turning the metal in a liquid state but pulling out a few feathers, she wraps the metal around your neck.

"Kuv-" You start "Shut it" She turns the liquid into a tight metal around your neck "You dare disobey me again a few feathers won't be the only thing I take away" You shiver and freeze at the thought of this. Quietly she lays you down on the bed, hugging you tightly as you fall asleep.

[desceros]

this got longer than i meant it to, so tldr is these young men need to increase their experience bars to catch up to vi, nobody's maxed ??? i guess?? i rambled. uh. ANYHOW; gentle reminder that the boys were not in fact raised like typical humans, they have a very tight-knit social circle that very rarely grows or changes and their outside social interactions tend to be limited to yokai and other mutants just as bizarre as they are. Vi was raised presumably pretty standardly as a human in human society, regardless of the perceived pro-mutant thing given her some flavor. Her expectations are already set, she learned all this socializing biz growing up around other people learning probably around the same time, assuming she had like-aged peers as a kid- doubt that's been considered but if she's written to be neurotypical-coded then that's probably a fair take on her formative years. The boys did not get this social interaction with humans in public spaces and navigating relationships; even homeschooled children get outside to play with the neighborhood kids. They didn't even have yokai until they were 15. April was it until then. She's not exactly typical herself, either, so that's not much opportunity to learn how to treat people properly. all this to say, Leo and Donnie are both making the sort of mistakes you tend to make as kids, when it's less consequential because there's no predetermined expectation. I saw in another ask, Des, you said the bar couldn't be lower and I feel like that was true from the get-go with these boys; Vi's not just the best friend or love interest, she's also probably one of the, if not their very first human friend since adulthood (and no I do not count the Jones pair; one's feral ninja crazy and the other is apocalypse boy wonder, neither raise that bar, i will die on this hill). The boys are both learning character-building life lessons here. I for one am gonna be rooting for Leo to bounce back just as much as Donnie because these are not bad people, just inexperienced dum dums and I for one enjoy watching character growth in progress.

i'm really in a glass house about the Wow This Got Long tirade so you'll have no slings nor arrows from me, lmao

so, in symphony, i've tried to show that there's kind of a. hm. sliding scale of socialization that's happened with the boys. allow me to ramble on in detail since i know it's one of those things i've been perhaps a bit too sneaky about:

on one end of the spectrum, you have mikey. he's the one that goes out to the grocery store while dragging donnie along when he can, he makes friends that come to the party, etc. he's basically integrated at this point, as much as one can be as a ninja turtle that grew up in the sewer.

next you have leo, who i suspect talks to people and interacts with them as the face man, but he's still very sheltered. his sheltering, however, is by choice. hes not very interested in getting to know them. he's very closed off and protective of the hamato secrets, so he doesn't let people in. not unless they're useful.

next comes raph. i think early on, after krang, he probably tried to integrate. but he's, yknow, a huge-ass alligator snapping turtle mutant. he looks scary, and he's aware of how it comes across. he has a lot of encounters where people assume the worst of him. there's one line in chapter 14 that illustrates his stance on the situation, and how he's basically given up hope on the idea of integration:

“Honestly? I dunno. For years, we always lived in the shadows, never lettin’ humans see us ‘cause we didn’t know how they’d react. And now that we know, I wonder sometimes if we shouldn’t just stay down here.”

and finally, at the far end, we have donnie. if it weren't for his touch-aversion, i think he actually would have been next after mikey to integrate. we see him in the show going to april's school in the daytime in just his hoodie, talking to humans easily, and he's comfortable wearing pretty shitty disguises to go topside. but in symphony, because of his trauma (some of which we haven't explored yet i am so, so sorry to tell you), he self isolates so he doesn't have to Deal With People. crowds in particular are a No No, and the boy lives in new york. crowds are kinda hard to avoid. and you are correct! this has been detrimental to his socialization. he doesn't know how to communicate his needs to people. he never had to learn how.

but that's what's so... delicious about writing this fic for me. donnie having to grapple with the fact that he has to meet viola-chan in the middle, and viola-chan grappling with having to meet him in the middle. he needs direct, specific language. she needs authentic, affirming language. they're not mutually exclusive. but they are something that needs to be practiced, and hhhhhh. it's just so much fun to iron out!

[the-insouciant-scientist]

Character Sheet - Harper

-------

Name + Title: Harper Faraday, the Insouciant Scientist

Pronouns: They/Them

Referred to as: Professor

Profession: Silverer (Ontological Cartographer), Scientist (focus on chemistry, but does a bit of everything)

Closest to: Rubberies

Ambition: Bag a Legend (completed, A Vast Network ending)

Associated stats: Watchful, Persuasive, Artisan of the Red Science

Associated quirks: Steadfast, Austere, Melancholy

Sign of the Chiropteromantic Zodiac: The Lovers

Destiny: The Memory

-------

They say...

"Is that a weasel in their labcoat, or are they just... Oh! It is a weasel! Actually a few weasels. Wait, why are they all looking at me like--"

-------

Backstory:

(warning for vague mentions of both child abuse and neglect, and forced partnership/marriage, also sorry this is a wordy one but I promise it's for a reason lmao)

Isabelle Evans (she/they) was born in 1874 to a lower upper-class family in Norwich, England. She was beloved for what she represented, but not for who she was.

Bear with me, here. I promise this will make sense.

Isabelle's childhood was a lonely one, spent mostly learning how to grow up into a proper lady and trying to avoid her parents' ire. Her education did include reading and writing, to her endless delight, but the majority of it was the usual: embroidery, sewing, violin lessons, how to cook. Not skills she was upset to have, mind you, but what they represented was... less than ideal. The idea of becoming someone's wife one day was horrific to her at absolute best.

Her parents seemingly couldn't strike a balance between harshness and grace in their parenting, and it left her often feeling like she was walking across a glass pane so thin that she could fall through at any moment. She made up imaginary friends for herself to cope with it all, kids her age who liked to talk with her, who were good at the things she struggled with (so they could help when she failed), who understood that her parents weren't just the proud and friendly society folk they presented as to others. Imaginary friends who could hug her tight as she nursed skinned knees and bruises, who could hold her hand when she was scared.

She was eight when she was talking to her parents, trying to understand why they were upset with her, when she realized she didn't feel like she was the one talking. Like words were just flowing forth unbidden. If someone had asked her what her name was, right in that moment, she would have said Eleanor, but would not have been able to say why. The conversation ended with her mother hugging her, a rarity between them, and it had... resolved peacefully? She could hardly believe it.

Thereafter, Isabelle noticed things like that a bit more often. In tense moments, feeling like she was her imaginary friends, or maybe they were her. Perhaps that should have frightened her, but mostly she just felt loved, that she had people on her side for once. The odd forgotten day or misplaced needle case was such a small price to pay for their companionship. And from the outside, it only seemed like she had become more confident, more polite, more ladylike. A bit more forgetful, perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Isabelle found a small passion in botany and flower cultivation in her teens, and made a few friends as well. Her parents loosened their grip on her a bit as they saw how well she was taking to the life they made for her, and she absolutely took advantage of that. It wasn't an unusual sight to see her racing down the street with a friend's hand in hers, off on some adventure or another. Her imaginary friends quieted, less needed, but were never far when she called.

Things became more tense again as she grew into a young adult, though. Isabelle's parents were keen to marry her off while she was still young and pretty, hopefully to someone with money and power. Isabelle (who by today's standards would be considered a sex and romance averse aroace) was... not keen on that. She scared quite a few suitors off over the years by any means necessary, hatpin stabbings included.

At the age of 24 she was set up with one of her friends from her teenage years, her parents reasoning that she'd have a harder time frightening him off. And so Theodore ________ set to wooing her. She tried to shake him off like she had the others, but to no avail. He was absolutely set on making Isabelle his bride. Even went so far as to ask her parents for her hand in marriage, which they accepted immediately.

And so, with the death sentence of her own wedding hanging over her head, she drove herself half-mad looking for some escape. It was only when she heard gossip outside her window about some strange and wondrous cavern below the earth, where London had fallen to before she was even born, that the gears really began to turn. They only picked up speed when she heard of a card game that, when won, would grant a wish.

She could wish to disappear. Or be free, forever. Or whatever she wanted.

And so the Sentimental Spinster hatched a plan to find a way down there. Some petty crime that would land her in New Newgate, and then she could descend from there. But something went very, very wrong along the way. Maybe if you asked her, she could tell you what, but...

A person woke up in a cell in the very beginning of the first 1899, with no memory of how they got there, and in a body they didn't recognize. They quickly gained the name Harper from their inability to stop rambling. The surname Faraday came later, a name from a newspaper to fill the blank space at the end of theirs.

They made their escape as so many others do, and so Harper Faraday came to the Neath, full of curiosity and an insatiable desire to learn anything and everything they could.

The card game lay entirely forgotten in some shadowed corner of their mind, no longer a driving force or ambition.

There were simply so many other things to do.

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In-game storyline (not entirely in order) -

Harper took to detective work almost immediately upon arriving in the Neath, which eventually lead them down the path to the Correspondence, and the University. Their dedication to the truth got them kicked out (in what was honestly one of the worst days of their life that they were aware of) but they made it back eventually, even more determined to bring truth and knowledge to light. And set things on fire with the Correspondence, literally and figuratively.

Originally went after the Vake not as a hunter would, but as a cryptozoologist would. The idea of a batlike monster stalking the night, the likes of which no one had ever seen before? That sounded like an incredible research opportunity to them. By the time their internal compass went from "neutralize and study" to "end its reign of terror and kill it", it was... no longer quite them doing so. The Stubborn Vake-Hunter (it/he) was a self that formed out of necessity. Its sense of duty and single-mindedness was the main reason they saw it through in its entirety, untempted by the knowledge the Vake could give them.

They met Elias Leroux (@the-dye-stained-socialite) in 1899 (the first one) a little over half a year into their time in the Neath, in a bit of an incident at the University. Harper had been running full tilt back to their lab with a flask of colorful but deeply caustic chemicals, and tripped and spilled it over Elias's skirts as they had been wheeling in the opposite direction. They whisked Elias back to their lab to neutralize the spill before it could burn them, but Elias insisted that they try to set the color as a dye because they were so enamored with it. The two of them ended up spending the rest of that day doing nothing but experimenting with dyes and chemicals, and marked the start of a fast friendship. Over the years friendship turned to something more, though, and they were married at the Bazaar on May 3rd, 1899 (1901).

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Trivia -

They currently have about 440 weasels, including a salt weasel, a weasel of woe, many weasels of social discomfiture, some araby fighting weasels, and enough lucky weasels to overrun a city. Their favorite is a little cream colored lucky weasel with brown splotches on it, named Florence. It likes to curl up in tight spaces, like in their waistcoat, or in weasel-sized Florence flasks. Hence the name. Harper usually has 3-7 weasels on them at any given time.

Very allergic to grass and did not know this until their first Fruits of the Zee. It's not as if there's much grass in the Neath, it wasn't super relevant before then!

The Chorister's Bomb affected them Really Weirdly as a dissociative system. They and their alters are a bit more distinct from each other since then, although their dissociation is still such that they don't actually know that they're a system. They definitely don't have the words for it. Also I never intended them initially to be a parallel to Veils's different identities and selves, but it really did line up pretty much perfectly.

On the topic of their alters, they have an alter who's a Fingerking. No one knows if it's an introject or just a really confused actual Fingerking who tried to possess them and mostly failed. It's a mystery!

They make tea blends as a hobby, based heavily in flavor chemistry and Neathy history. Their current project is a series of blends based on the previous Fallen Cities.

Harper has a tendency to refer to everything scientifically, frequently using the words 'experiment', 'procedure', and 'formula' in place of more common words.

They're very friendly with The Manager of the Royal Beth, albeit also absolutely terrified of him. For good reason, I mean. They trust him implicitly to be a safe haven if they have to escape from Veils or anything else, but they are Fully aware that his help will come with a cost.

People tend to completely overlook them when they're next to Elias, which is absolutely fine by them given their wallflower tendencies. It's hilarious though when someone accuses them of faking knowing Elias for clout at Their Wedding... which is also their wedding... that they are marrying them at. Which is a thing that happened to them. Most Bohemians and Society folk view them as Elias's freaky little pet scientist, assuming they know of them at all.

Of the bats, they're probably closest to Wines nowadays (post Vake killing) by default. They help clean up at its revels sometimes out of guilt for what they've done. It doesn't care all that much, probably, but sure as hell isn't going to tell them to stop working for free.

They don't like alcohol. Black Wings Absinthe is the only thing they'll partake in, and that's only out of necessity. Was once possessed by Jack-of-Smiles. This surely has not traumatized them :-) (<- lying)