#'sense of community' which wasn't very healthy

[inavagrant-a]

Remembering this whole blow up drama that happened in a discor d server I was in in my last fandom where the intention was to make the sense of "community" better and less clickey and the intention was good but boy oh man the fake bitches in that server was insan e awraxawraxa.

[bluespiritshonour]

Water Siblings and Fire Siblings as Foils

Katara and Sokka are peak sibling rep: they bicker, they hurt each other, they take turns being the voice of reason while the other goes batshit crazy—and they'd die for each other.

And very clearly Sokka's daddy's boy and Katara's momma's girl: and for most parts, they seem to be content with that dynamic.

Look, parents have favourites, let's establish that first: don't come at me for it.

But in a healthy environment, where all of the kids’ emotional needs are met irrespective of which kid gets along with which parent, they're less likely to tear themselves apart yearning for parental affection.

Sokka and Katara's family was a normal one, a healthy one—as healthy as one can be in a war ravaged world—and Sokka and Katara are normal siblings. Even after their mother died Katara doesn't seem to care much that Sokka gets more time with their father. And everytime she brings up their mother Sokka gets this weird look on his face, which, I think is later explained by the fact that he feels guilty that he doesn't even remember what their mother looked like. And it's not because Katara seems to know more about their mother despite being younger.

Neither of them grudge the other for having been close to one of the parents—let's call it ‘being close to’ instead of ‘dad/mum loved you/me more’ because that's what would come up with Azula and Zuko.

One can say that Azula's daddy's girl and Zuko's momma's boy... Except it isn't like that.

Azula wasn't loved by her father; neither was she close to him. If anything she had the illusion that she's close to him. But children can sense when they aren't loved, which can explain why she took her mother being close to Zuko so hard. Because she didn't get that from her father and isn't she supposed to be daddy's girl? But dad's good to her; mum... isn't. Dad lets her do what she wants... As long as she obeys him or she'd end up like Zuko.

For Ozai, both his children are pawns. He uses Azula to abuse Zuko, which in turn is to get at Ursa. And honestly, Ursa was a bad mum and an abuse victim and not the villain are takes that can co-exist.

A lot of mums in primarily patriarchal cultures end up abusing their own kids while trying to protect them in an environment where they themselves hold little power.

Ursa and Hakoda can be compared in this.

Katara haters can look away: she isn't whiny. And even if she is, well, she takes responsibility when no one else does so I guess she deserves to complain if that's what it takes. Katara is extremely mature. When she was mad at Hakoda, she still had the critical thinking skills to point out that yes, she understands why he left. He had to! She doesn't blame him for that, it wasn't his fault that there was war going on—but it still hurt!

And what does Hakoda do? He hugs her and apologises. He doesn't defend himself, because he doesn't need to. She understands! She said she does and he doesn't insult her by making excuses. He acknowledges and validates her pain.

Unlike Katara, who grew up in a healthy family with parents and grandparents and a whole community—Azula was isolated and under the influence of Ozai. And she was so young! If you remember being that young, you'd remember thinking that parents are always right. You don't realise that parents make mistakes too—and while her emotional needs weren't being met by Ozai, she turned to Ursa—but Ursa was at her wits end trying to undo the damage of Ozai's abuse on Zuko.

If she had given attention to Azula, Zuko, who thought that Azula was perfect and already had father's approval would have gone off rails—and since she didn't... Azula went off the rails.

Which was exactly how Ozai would want it. I don't like the comics much but it made sense that Ozai would hold both the children as bargaining chips against Ursa. Ursa made her choice, or rather, the illusion of her choice and Azula had to pay for it: the real reason Zuko could turn over a new page while Azula couldn't was because from the very beginning, Zuko had his mum and uncle.

Azula had no one!

Like Hakoda had to go to war and leave his children behind, Ursa had to choose between Azula or Zuko; Ozai orchestrated it as such.

But while there were people to pick up Hakoda's slack, there was no one to guide Azula. Sokka and Katara raised each other and they had Gran Gran.

Zuko and Azula were constantly pitted against each other by a war-mongering father.

I don't like this unrealistic expectations that fandom has of a family where both the siblings not only love each other equally, they also process emotions similarly (see: the Sokka vs Katara debate on how they both react to trauma) and parents who love all the kids equally.

Katara and Sokka are normal and realistic in the way that they are both different people: they process grief differently. Katara takes up responsibly and grows up too fast, it takes a toll on her and she's vocally expressive. She turns her grief into anger. Meanwhile Sokka internalises it in a survivor's guilt kind of way.

There's also gender involved in the way both pair of siblings interact. It's more subtle for the fire siblings than the water sibling. Plus, Suki makes Sokka drink his respect women juice, please y'all don't call Sokka sexist. That was character development for him which was addressed. I could make another post for gender and A:TLA.

And they both love each other dearly and they're okay with the fact that one is daddy's boy and the other is momma's girl. It's okay.

In contrast Zuko yearns for his father's affection and Azula yearns for her mother's. And while Zuko feels inadequate, for Azula it's “behave or you'll end up like your brother.”

She also learns to derive a sick sort of pleasure from watching Zuko suffer—which is entirely her father's doing. Because in rare moments when she doesn't have anything to gain by getting Zuko into trouble...she actually kind of looks out for him. It's extremely rare and sprinkled here and there to show us the Azula that could have been.

And I don't think Zuko really realised that Azula was abused too—not until he lets go of his father. Until the final Agni Kai. What I love about it is that despite portraying Azula as Zuko's tormentor for 3 seasons (and she was his tormentor) they did not frame the Agni Kai as some epic good vs evil shit.

Because from Zuko's point of view Azula was perfect. He's out here vying for his father's affection while she gets it freely. She's so lucky!—until he lets go of his father and realises what a monster he was... And he also realises that father never really loved Azula either...

They didn't say as much in words. But the final Agni Kai is proof enough. Zuko doesn't rejoice bringing Azula down (technically Katara did it). At this point, I guess, he realises that Azula's a kid too. Even younger than him—that their father couldn't care less about either of them.

Okay. I really do think that Zuko suddenly becoming invested in Azula's redemption would make sense after the Agni Kai. I also read this Twitter thread by Aaron Ehasz where he says he had plans for Azula's redemption and it was fantastic.

So yeah. Without being overt, the water siblings and fire siblings are contrasted by each other. Which is why I don't like the comics trying to do this brother-sister thing where they put Sokka and Katara and Zuko and Azula in back-to-back panels like... Even if I'm a huge supporter of Azula-deserves-redemption I didn't like those panels in the comics.

P.S. don't pit Sokka and Katara against each other. You aren't Ozai. They're different people who process trauma and loss differently and hence, react differently.

Adios.

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Part 17: Finding my place

A/N: if you are reading this, say hi. Enjoy!

Previous chapters ☞ HERE ☜

5.1k words

After my nap that was very much needed, selene gave me a tour of the place. She led me through the sanctuary, her footsteps light but purposeful as we navigated the maze of pathways and structures that made up this hidden world. The first stop on the tour was the dining hall, a large, open space filled with long wooden tables and benches. The room was simple but functional, with the scent of freshly cooked food lingering in the air. A few mutants were scattered around, eating quietly or talking in low voices, their expressions a mix of weariness and determination.

"This is the dining hall," Selene explained, her tone matter-of-fact. "It's where we all gather for meals. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are served here, and everyone is expected to pitch in when it's their turn."

I nodded, taking in the space. It was different from the sterile, isolated environment I'd been living in at the X-Mansion. This place felt more... lived in. Like a community, albeit one that was built on survival.

Next, we moved on to the kitchen, which was located just off the dining hall. The kitchen was a bustling hub of activity, with several mutants working together to prepare the next meal. Pots and pans clanged, and the air was thick with the smell of cooking food. Selene pointed out the various stations—cooking, prep, cleaning—and explained that everyone rotated through the different roles.

"Everyone here has a job to do," Selene said as we continued the tour. "It's how we keep the sanctuary running smoothly. Some work in the kitchen, others handle gardening, crop picking, and planting. There are also those who focus on cleaning, maintenance, and other essential tasks. You'll be expected to pick something you're good at and contribute."

I listened carefully, absorbing the information. The idea of having a job, something to keep me busy and give me a sense of purpose, was oddly comforting. It was a reminder that even in this strange new environment, there was still structure and routine—things I could hold on to as I navigated this new chapter of my life.

Selene led me down a narrow hallway to a small, sparsely furnished room that she told me would be mine. The room was basic—a bed, a small dresser, and a window that let in a sliver of light. It wasn't much, but it was a place to call my own, a space where I could retreat when I needed to think or rest.

"Here's your room," Selene said, gesturing to the space. "It's not luxurious, but it's private. You can make it your own."

I nodded, grateful for the small bit of privacy. "Thank you," I murmured, already thinking about how I could make the room feel a little more like home.

We continued the tour, stopping by the communal bathroom, where the other residents of the sanctuary took turns cleaning and maintaining the space. It was practical and clean, with everything needed to keep everyone comfortable and healthy.

Finally, Selene led me to the training area, a large, open space that was clearly designed for combat practice and honing mutant abilities. Several mutants were sparring or practicing their powers under the watchful eyes of instructors. The air was charged with energy, and I could see the determination in their faces as they pushed themselves to improve.

"This is where we train," Selene explained, her gaze sweeping over the room. "It's important for everyone here to be ready—to be strong. We never know when we might need to defend ourselves or the sanctuary. You'll be expected to join in the training sessions as well."

I watched the mutants sparring, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. I knew I had power within me—more than I fully understood—and the thought of learning to control it, to channel it into something useful, was both exciting and terrifying.

As we walked back toward the main area of the sanctuary, Selene turned to me with a thoughtful expression. "You'll need to choose a job, something that suits your skills and interests. It's part of being here—everyone contributes."

I thought about it for a moment, considering my options. I wasn't sure what I was good at anymore, not after everything that had happened. But I knew I needed to do something, to find a place for myself in this new world.

"I'll think about it," I said finally, my voice steady. "I'll find something."

Selene nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "Good. Take your time. There's no rush, but don't wait too long. The sooner you find your place here, the better."

With that, the tour was over, and I was left to wander the sanctuary on my own, to explore and begin to find my footing in this strange, new place. The future was uncertain, and the path ahead was filled with challenges, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of purpose, a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to make a difference—both for myself and for those around me.

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As dinner time approached, the sounds of chatter and clattering dishes filled the dining hall, but I wasn't in the mood to join the crowd. The weight of everything that had happened—everything I had seen—still hung heavy in my mind, and the idea of sitting among a noisy group of mutants felt overwhelming.

Instead, I decided to take my meal back to my room. Selene didn't seem surprised when I told her, and she simply nodded, understanding that I needed some time alone. Before I left the dining hall, she handed me a charger for my phone, which had been dead since my arrival. It was a small gesture, but it meant more than I could express. 

Back in my room, I plugged in my phone, watching as the screen flickered to life, showing the familiar charging symbol. I placed it on the small table beside my bed, where my dinner tray was already set up. The food looked good—simple but comforting—but I couldn't muster much of an appetite.

I sat on the edge of the bed, picking at the food absentmindedly as my thoughts drifted back to the vision Selene and I had shared earlier. The images of fire, smoke, and the lifeless bodies of the people I cared about flashed through my mind, making it difficult to focus on anything else. The version of myself that had spoken those chilling words haunted me, her voice echoing in my head."This is our future, Violet. And there's no stopping it."

I pushed the plate of food away, unable to eat. The quiet of the room offered some solace, but it also left me alone with my thoughts—thoughts I wasn't sure I was ready to face.

The phone buzzed softly as it finished powering up, and I glanced at it, half-expecting to see messages from Charles, Vanessa, or Wade. But I wasn't ready to deal with that either, not yet. I needed time to process everything, to figure out what my next steps should be.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the sounds of the sanctuary muffled by the walls of my room. I knew I couldn't avoid what I had seen forever, but for tonight, I just needed to be alone—to think, to rest, and to try to make sense of the path I had chosen.

Tomorrow, I would begin to find my place here. Tomorrow, I would confront whatever lay ahead. But tonight, I just needed a moment to breathe.

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It was the middle of the night, and I found myself lying in bed, wide awake, unable to shake the vision from earlier. The darkness around me felt suffocating, closing in like the shadows of my own thoughts. I tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but no matter how I shifted, sleep refused to come.

The images of fire, smoke, and death haunted me, playing over and over in my mind like a nightmare I couldn't escape. But it wasn't just the vision that kept me awake—it was what the other version of me had said, the chilling declaration that I was meant to be the Enchanted Witch.

The words echoed in my head, each syllable sending a shiver down my spine. The Enchanted Witch. It sounded like something out of a dark fairy tale, a name whispered in fear and reverence. But the way she had said it, with such cold certainty, made it clear that this wasn't just a story—it was my destiny, a role I was somehow fated to play.

I couldn't accept it. I didn't want to believe that I was meant to become something so powerful and terrifying, something that could bring about the destruction I had seen in the vision. But the other me had been so sure, so confident in the path that lay ahead.

Frustration bubbled up inside me, and I threw the covers off, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I couldn't just lie there, trapped in my own thoughts. I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself from the turmoil inside my head.

I stood up and paced the room, my mind racing. What did it mean to be the Enchanted Witch? Was it a title, a curse, or something more? And why did that other version of me seem so willing to embrace it?

The more I thought about it, the more questions piled up, each one more unsettling than the last. I was supposed to be here to find answers, to prevent the future I had seen, but instead, I felt like I was sinking deeper into uncertainty.

I stopped pacing and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I had pledged my loyalty to Magneto, hoping that he could help me control my powers and prevent the nightmare future from becoming a reality. But now, I wasn't sure if even he could help me with this.

The vision, the other me, the title of Enchanted Witch—it all felt like a puzzle with pieces that didn't quite fit together. And the more I tried to make sense of it, the more lost I felt.

I walked over to the window and looked out at the dark landscape of the sanctuary, the moon casting a pale light over the quiet world outside. The stillness of the night only made the chaos inside me feel more intense, like a pressure building up with no release.

I couldn't stay in that room any longer. I needed air, space to think, to try and clear my mind. Without a second thought, I grabbed my jacket and quietly slipped out of the room, hoping that a walk under the stars might bring some clarity to the confusion that plagued me.

The night was cool and still, the air crisp against my skin as I made my way through the quiet sanctuary. The darkness was comforting, wrapping around me like a blanket, the stars above offering a small measure of peace. I found myself drawn to one of the balconies, a place where I could see the sky and maybe find some solace in its vastness.

As I stepped onto the balcony, I was surprised to see a figure already there. Magneto—or Erik, as I had learned to call him—was sitting at a small table, a mug in his hand. He seemed deep in thought, but as I approached, he looked up and met my gaze. There was something calm and almost inviting in his expression, and without a word, he gestured for me to sit next to him.

I hesitated for only a moment before taking the seat beside him. The night was silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves in the wind, and for a while, neither of us spoke. Erik sipped from his mug, and I found myself wondering what it was he was drinking. But the question that came to my mind wasn't about his drink.

"Where did you get the name Magneto from?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Erik set down his mug, a small smile playing on his lips as he considered my question. "It was a name given to me," he began, his voice low and reflective. "A name that came to define me and the cause I chose to fight for. In the early days, when I first began to embrace my power, I needed something that would strike fear into the hearts of those who sought to oppress us—something that would remind them of the force they were dealing with."

He paused, looking out at the night sky, his eyes distant as if he were recalling memories from a lifetime ago. "Magneto became more than just a name. It became a symbol of resistance, of the strength we mutants possess. It was a way to remind the world that we are not to be trifled with, that we will not bow to those who seek to destroy us."

I nodded slowly, taking in his words. There was a certain power in the name, an undeniable strength that came with it. But there was also a weight, a burden that Erik carried with him—a burden I could see reflected in his eyes.

"And now?" I asked softly. "Do you still see yourself as Magneto?"

He looked at me then, his gaze intense and thoughtful. "Magneto is a part of me, just as Erik is. But I am more than a name, more than a symbol. I am a man who has seen the horrors of this world and who has chosen to stand against them. And now, I find myself in a position where I must guide others, help them find their own strength, their own path."

His words resonated with me, and for a moment, I understood a little more about the man who sat beside me. 

After a brief silence, Erik turned his gaze back to me, his eyes searching mine with a quiet intensity. "What's your story?" he asked, his voice gentle yet probing.

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, I wasn't sure how to answer. My story—where did I even begin? I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts, and then I started talking.

"It's... complicated," I began, my voice shaky as I tried to piece together the fragments of my life. 

"I got my powers from a gem, something ancient and powerful. It wasn't something I chose—it just happened. Ever since then, I've been hiding, running from a man named Strucker. He's... he's the one who did things to me, who experimented on me, who made me into this."

Erik listened intently, his expression unreadable but his focus unwavering. I continued, feeling the weight of my words grow heavier with each sentence.

"When I moved to New York, I thought I could start over, live a simple life. And for a while, it was—well, as simple as it could be, given everything. But then, out of nowhere, two months of my life just... disappeared. My memories are gone, and my head feels like it's going to explode. I hear voices all the time, and they never stop."

My voice started to waver as the panic that had been simmering beneath the surface began to rise. "And now... now I'm supposedly going to be responsible for the deaths of my friends, of the X-Men. I saw it, Erik—I saw their bodies, their blood everywhere. And it's all because of me."

The words tumbled out faster now, my breathing becoming more erratic as I tried to hold myself together. "My life... it's been an endless cycle of pain ever since I was five. Every person I've ever loved has died or been taken from me. My parents, my friends... it's like I'm cursed, like everything I touch turns to ashes. And now, I'm watching it all happen again, and I don't know how to stop it. I don't even know if I can."

My heart raced, and I could feel the familiar weight of despair closing in, suffocating me. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but before I could completely lose myself to the panic, Erik's voice cut through the storm in my mind.

"Violet," he said firmly, his voice grounding me in the present. He reached out, his hand gently caressing my cheek, the warmth of his touch grounding me in a way that nothing else could."Breathe," he whispered softly, his thumb brushing against my skin, wiping away the tear that had escaped. "You're not alone in this."

I looked up at him, my vision blurred by tears, and saw the steadiness in his gaze. He wasn't overwhelmed by my panic—if anything, he seemed determined to pull me out of it.

"Your life has been filled with pain, yes," he continued, his voice steady and calm. "But that pain has also made you stronger. You've survived what most people could never endure. And that strength, Violet, is what will help you face whatever comes next."

I blinked away the tears, focusing on his words, letting them sink in. His hand on my cheek was a comforting presence, a reminder that I wasn't as lost as I felt.

"You are not responsible for what others have done to you," Erik said, his thumb still gently stroking my cheek. "And you are not alone in this fight. You have people who care about you, who want to help you. And now, you have me."

His words, combined with the softness of his touch, began to chase away the darkness that had threatened to overwhelm me. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, feeling the warmth of his hand against my skin.

"You are stronger than you know," he continued. "And together, we will find a way to ensure that vision does not come to pass. But you must believe in yourself, Violet. You must believe that you have the power to change your fate."

I nodded slowly, the panic in my chest beginning to loosen its grip. Erik's touch, so unexpected and gentle, was a lifeline, pulling me back from the edge.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice trembling but steadier than before.

Erik gave me a small, reassuring smile, his hand lingering on my cheek for a moment longer before he let it fall. "You're not alone in this," he repeated softly. "Remember that."

We sat in silence after that, the cool night air soothing the last of my frayed nerves. I wasn't sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I had a chance to face it head-on. And I knew that, whatever happened, I wouldn't have to face it alone.

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I don't exactly remember going to bed, but I think I slept pretty late. The exhaustion from everything that had happened must have finally caught up with me. When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the faint light streaming in through the small window in my room. It was morning, and the sanctuary was beginning to stir with the sounds of people starting their day.

I reached over to the small table where I had left my phone charging the night before. It was now fully charged, the screen glowing softly as I pressed the power button. As the device came to life, I felt a mixture of anticipation and unease. I hadn't checked my messages since I left, and I knew there would likely be messages waiting for me—some that I might not be ready to face. 

As my phone powered on, the notifications began to appear, each one a reminder of the world I had left behind. My heart clenched as I saw the names—Charles, Vanessa, Wade, and Logan. I hesitated for a moment, then started with Charles's message.

His message was long, filled with words of concern and hope. He urged me to come back, saying that the X-Mansion was my home and that they could help me, that *he* could help me. But the more I read, the more my frustration grew. His relentless optimism, the way he tried to convince me that everything would be okay, felt like it was mocking my reality. We both knew he couldn't fix this, that the answers I needed weren't at the mansion. His well-meaning words started to piss me off, and I had to resist the urge to just delete the message without replying.

Next was Vanessa's message. It was short but sweet, filled with her usual warmth. She told me she missed me and hoped I was okay, that I should take care of myself and that she was here if I needed to talk. Her kindness made my heart clench with guilt, but I didn't give in. I wasn't ready to reach out, not yet. Not until I had more answers.

Then there was Wade's message. True to form, it was a mix of concern and humor, with him trying to make light of the situation. He asked if I was off on some grand adventure and made a joke about how he and Vanessa were holding down the fort. His message brought a small, reluctant smile to my face, but it also reminded me of the chaos I had left behind. Still, there was a part of me that appreciated his attempt to keep things light, even if it was just his way of coping.

And then there was Logan. I stared at his name for a moment, a wave of confusion washing over me. I didn't even remember having his number in the first place. How did he get my number? The message was brief, almost gruff, asking where I was and if I was okay. There was something about the tone that made me pause—like he was trying to care, but didn't quite know how to say it.

I sighed, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me. The messages from Charles and Logan irritated me, each for different reasons, while Vanessa's and Wade's made me feel guilty for leaving them in the dark. But I knew that I couldn't go back, not yet. Not until I had some clarity, some control over the chaos that had become my life.

For now, I turned off the phone again, deciding that the world outside could wait. There were bigger things to focus on, and I wasn't ready to face any of them yet.

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After turning off my phone and setting it aside, I decided that staying isolated in my room wouldn't do me any good. I needed to start integrating myself into the sanctuary, find my place here, and that meant stepping out and interacting with the people who were now part of my life.

I made my way to the dining room, which was already bustling with activity as mutants gathered for breakfast. The atmosphere was lively, with the clatter of dishes and the hum of conversation filling the air. I grabbed a plate of food and scanned the room, looking for a place to sit.

I spotted Selene sitting at a table with a few others. They seemed friendly enough, so I approached and took a seat next to her. Selene smiled as I joined them and introduced me to the group. They were a mix of personalities—some quiet, others more talkative—but all of them were welcoming and eager to make me feel at home.

As the conversation flowed around me, I couldn't help but feel a little more at ease. It was nice to be around people who understood the complexities of this life, even if I was still struggling to find my footing. They talked about their daily tasks, their powers, and the oddities of living in a place like this. It was almost... normal, in a way that I hadn't expected.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Erik sitting alone at a table across the room. He was drinking from the same blue mug I had seen him with last night, his expression thoughtful as he observed the room. There was something about him that drew me in—a quiet strength, a sense of purpose that I found myself gravitating toward.

Without really thinking about it, I excused myself from Selene's table and made my way over to Erik. He looked up as I approached, and I offered a small smile before taking a seat next to him.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, even though I had already sat down.

Erik gave a slight nod, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Not at all."

We sat in companionable silence for a moment, the noise of the dining room fading into the background. There was something calming about being near him, something that made the chaos in my mind quiet down, even if just for a little while.

"Good morning," I said softly, glancing at the blue mug in his hands. "Same drink as last night?"

Erik looked down at the mug and then back at me, his expression unreadable. "Yes," he replied simply. "A habit of mine."

I nodded, not pushing for more. There was no need to fill the silence with unnecessary words. Instead, I took a bite of my breakfast, feeling a small measure of comfort in the routine of it all.

As we sat together, I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this place could become something close to a home. I wasn't there yet, but with Erik's quiet presence beside me, it didn't feel so impossible.

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After breakfast, Selene approached me, her expression thoughtful. "Have you decided what you'd like to focus your time on here?" she asked, her tone gentle but direct.

I paused, realizing that I hadn't really given much thought to how I would contribute to the sanctuary. Everything had been so overwhelming since I arrived that finding a role here hadn't even crossed my mind. But as I considered her question, a memory surfaced—something from a life that seemed so distant now.

"I used to work at a flower shop," I said, almost to myself. The memory of arranging flowers, tending to plants, and working with my hands felt like a distant echo of something comforting. 

"Maybe I could work in the garden?"

Selene's eyes softened, and she gave me a small nod. "That sounds like a perfect fit," she said. "The garden could always use more hands, and it's a good way to connect with the earth, to find some peace."

I felt a small sense of relief at her words, as if I had finally found something solid to hold onto in the midst of all the uncertainty. Working in the garden—taking care of plants, nurturing life—felt like a step toward finding some semblance of normalcy, even here.

"Thank you," I replied, feeling a bit more grounded now that I had a purpose, something to focus on besides the chaos in my mind. 

"Come with me," Selene said, a hint of warmth in her voice as she led the way. "I'll show you where you'll be working."

Selene led me through the sanctuary, taking a path that wound through the trees and away from the main buildings. As we walked, the noise of the dining hall and the bustle of the sanctuary began to fade, replaced by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. The air here felt fresher, more alive, and I could already feel a small sense of peace beginning to settle over me.

Eventually, we reached a small, weathered shed nestled among the trees. Selene pushed open the door, and I followed her inside. The shed was filled with gardening supplies—tools of every kind, from shovels and spades to pruning shears and watering cans. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with bags of soil, fertilizer, and seed packets, all neatly organized. The air inside was cool and smelled faintly of earth and greenery.

"This is where you'll find everything you need," Selene said, gesturing to the various supplies. "The garden is just beyond those trees, and it's yours to take care of. You'll have help, of course, but this will be your space."

I looked around the shed, taking in the sight of the tools and supplies. There was something comforting about the simplicity of it all—working with my hands, nurturing life from the soil. It felt like a small return to normalcy, a piece of the life I had left behind.

"Thank you," I said, my voice soft but sincere. "This... this is exactly what I need right now."Selene smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "I thought it might be. The garden is a place of peace for many here. I hope it becomes that for you, too."

With that, she left me to explore the shed on my own, giving me the space I needed to get familiar with the tools and supplies. I ran my fingers over the handles of the tools, feeling their sturdy weight, and breathed in the earthy scent that filled the shed. This was a place where I could find some solace, a way to reconnect with something simple and pure.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

Two hours of hard work in the garden felt like a kind of therapy, the repetitive motions and the earthy scents grounding me in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. But by the time I was done, I was drenched in sweat, dirt streaked across my skin, and I knew I needed a shower—badly.

I walked back to my room, eager to clean up and wash away the grime of the day. Selene had generously given me some body wash and shampoo when I first arrived, and I was looking forward to finally using them. As I grabbed the bottles from the small table by my bed, my phone suddenly started ringing.

I glanced at the screen, and my heart sank when I saw the name: Logan.

I hesitated for a moment, torn between ignoring the call and answering it just to tell him to leave me alone. The frustration I felt toward him, mixed with everything else I was dealing with, bubbled up to the surface. Deciding I wasn't going to let him off easily, I answered the call, ready to yell at him.

But before I could say anything, Logan's voice cut through, sharp and urgent. "We know where you are. We're coming to get you."

And then, just like that, he hung up.

I stared at the phone, the shock of his words sinking in. My heart raced, a mix of anger and panic rising within me. They knew where I was. They were coming here.

The peace I had just begun to find shattered in an instant, replaced by the familiar sense of dread. I had no idea how they had tracked me down or what they intended to do, but one thing was clear—I wasn't ready to face them, not yet.

Part 18: Under pressure

[emeryhiro]

Hello!

I am new here and is feeling very overwhelmed right now with that is happening in the caryl fandom. I appreciate your insight into these characters. I am someone who has not seen Daryl Dixon season 1 and is seriously considering if I should even watch it with all that is being said about s2.

Reading all the early reviews that has dropped - I get a lot of mixed reactions to Isabelle's character. Some ppl say she was the best part about season 1 while others don't even mention here in their reviews. The caryl fandom is largely, understandably, biased against her.

I do not know anything about Isabelle and was wondering what your thoughts about her are - how she holds up as a character?

Hi Anon!!

Thank you for your question. I'm really glad you asked this question, and thank you for the kind words🥰 I'm going to do my best to properly answer and share my thoughts on all the points you've mentioned.

Firstly, welcome to the fandom!! 💖 I'm sorry you've joined at a time of so much uncertainty, but I promise that at its core, this community is a beautiful place to be. But like all communities, there is always positivity and negativity, and it's important to be careful with what's surrounding you, ensuring it's a healthy balance that works for you.

I've divided my response into several sections, as I find that to be the best way to convey my thoughts. I also wanted to be as clear as possible since this is a sensitive topic for some, and I want to try to alleviate at least some of the worries.

A mild spoiler warning for a mention of something that happens in episode 1 of season 2.

Reviews on Season 2:

I wasn't planning on reading any of the reviews for season 2, but since you asked for my thoughts, I read all the articles that I could find so that I could give you an informed response. And one thing I advise is to always take reviews with a grain of salt (this includes my thoughts as well) because, ultimately, they're all based on the writers' opinions.

What I've found with all previous seasons of TWD, especially season 1 of Daryl Dixon, was that no single review I read aligned perfectly with what I thought of the show once I watched it myself. And I know I'll say the same about season 2.

Regarding what I read in the season 2 reviews, I don't think I've actually read a single concerning line in any of the ones I've come across, and I'm pretty sure I've read every single one that has been released. There are, however, a lot of people who, out of fear or concern, focus on single lines from a review that may sound negative or worrisome when taken out of context, and ignore everything else in the review that's purely positive.

I can see many people have shared their specific thoughts on different segments of several reviews, but I won't go into my thoughts here for the sake of keeping this response reasonable short. If you're interested in a detailed post about my thoughts on the reviews in general or any in particular, let me know, and I'll share it as soon as I get a chance.

My thoughts on Isabelle:

I found Isabelle to be a fascinating character with many layers. She is unquestionably flawed and has a great mix of both positive and negative characteristics, which I think is what gives her character so much potential. She's intelligent, driven, brave, headstrong, and very protective, but she's also undeniably manipulative, which makes sense when you think of it as a self-defence mechanism that she developed during her rocky life before the apocalypse. I'm also a fan of Clémence as an actress, and I think she's a great fit for this character.

This next bit might sound a bit contrevoursial but bare with me. I've seen Isabelle get a lot of hate for being manipulative towards Daryl, even I personally hated seeing Daryl be treated that way, but it's important to remember that we've also seen Carol behave manipulatively when she's had to in the past in order to protect the people that she loves. This is something you'll see Carol do once again in episode 1 of TBOC, and when I watched it, it made me uncomfortable, but ultimetly, I could see that it made Carol uncomfortable as well; she doesn't feel any satisfaction out of what she does and is willing to carry the weight of that lie and guilt to achieve her ultimate goal of saving Daryl, the person she loves.

Even though, on the surface, it's not an admirable thing to do, we appreciate Carol so much more because of the lengths she's willing to go to for the ones she loves, and we've also seen her journey to this point, which naturally makes us love her and empathise with her.

So my point here is that I can't judge Isabelle for the same behaviour I admire in my favourite character. Just like Carol may act that way to protect Daryl (her loved one), Isabelle was doing it because she believed (to the best of her knowledge) that it was what was best for Laurent (her loved one).

However, what doesn't sit right with me about Isabelle's character is that what the showrunners and writers have been saying about her doesn't align with what I've seen on screen (this is a great example of why I try to avoid looking at unnecessary publicity). I want to love her character for who she is, flaws and all, but the inconsistency in her publicity makes me feel like there's some discrepancy behind the scenes, and that has stopped me from investing in her character and gives me slight concern for the trajectory of her arc, which has so much potential that would be incredibly tragic if wasted.

The only other thing that I would disagree with (IF the show ends up going down that path) is the negative messaging that would be given out about nuns if every surviving nun on the show is portrayed as willing to forget her vows the minute there's a man in front of them that they find interesting. I'm not catholic, but I think that it would be incredibly disrespectful towards actual nuns and the sacrifices that they make for their faith. But please don't take this as fact because I don't think this will actually ever happen. I honestly don't believe that AMC or anyone involved with the show would knowingly do something like that. I'd be happy to explain this a little further, but I don't think it's relevant if you haven't seen the first seasons.

Watching TWD: Daryl Dixon S1 & 2

My question to you would be, what draws you to TWD/TBOC? Is it Caryl itself and potential canon? And if so, do you feel that you'd be left disappointed and/or unsatisfied with the potential lack of romance between the characters in season 2? Or, do you enjoy the show for a combination of things, like the character development, world-building, cinematography, etc.?

I want to emphasise that there is no wrong answer to the above. Everyone is unique, and it's 1000% understandable and fair for each person to have unique reasons for being drawn to and loving, hating, or even being indifferent about a show.

I personally fall in the latter category; I love TWD for its rich story, action sequences, cinematography, multitude of interesting characters, and the mind-blowing ways in which they have developed over the years (the whole package of the show is exactly my cup of tea), and of course, it's no secret if anyone looks at my blog that my favourite character (BY FAR) are Carol and Daryl. I absolutely adore them for everything they are, both as individuals and what they bring out in each other and mean to each other. And if Caryl is ever canon (which I expect would happen in season 3), then that would be the cherry on top of a show I already love.

My very short review of season 1 would be that I really enjoyed it and would rank it at the top between all the other spinoff seasons we've gotten so far. However, in all honesty, I still felt and noticed the hole that was left behind in the story with the absence of Carol, but knowing that she will be returning in season 2 kind of made up for that lack in season 1. All up, I really enjoyed season 1 and have watched it several times in the last year. I'm actually currently in the middle of watching it again in preparation for season 2.

My recommendations:

If you personally fall into the former category and, as mentioned above, feel that you'd be left disappointed and/or unsatisfied with the potential lack of romance between the characters in season 2, then perhaps it's better to wait till all the episodes are released to then decide if it's something that you'd like to watch.

If you're willing to accept and are okay with the potential lack of romance between Caryl in season 2 but are concerned about and would rather not watch any potential romantic relationship develop between Daryl and Isabelle, then I'd say that you should watch the season as it releases because I honestly don't believe that something like that is a real possibility. At most, there may be hints towards one-sided feelings from Isabelle's side and maybe some confusion from Daryl's side, but untimely, it would not mean or go anywhere. I'm personally not even bothered with this worst-case scenario because it doesn't matter how many people have feelings for Daryl or how confused Daryl is because I know that once he's reunited with Carol, there won't be any more uncertainty about where his heart and loyalties truly lie. There's honestly not a single ounce of me that's concerned about this.

If you're more like me and enjoy the show as a whole, even though you may be slightly disappointed with a few accepts, then I'd highly recommend that you watch season 1 before the release of season 2 (if you have the time), because it genuinely was a good season and will give you a lot of backstory and context that would make season 2 feel so much more enjoyable and immersive.

~~~~

Thanks again for your questions!! I hope this all makes sense and that it answers your questions. As I mentioned earlier, if you'd like me to expand on my thoughts on anything in particular, please let me know, and I'd be happy to do so.

My last bit of advice is this: I know it's easier said than done, but I urge you, especially as someone who's new to the fandom, to not allow a lot of different voices and opinions to shape how you naturally feel or invalidate what you take away from watching the show (not that I think that's what you're doing but this is the general advice I wanted to give just in case🩵). It's really easy for anyone to be influenced by negativity and positivity when they find that that's all they can see from the people around them.

I personally try to focus on what I see on screen and what I hear directly from Norman and Melissa because, at the end of the day, showrunners and writers come and go, but Norman and Melissa have embodied these characters from day one and understand them more than anyone else ever could.

♡♡♡

[moutheyes]

many thoughts about currently airing QL

i meant to get this done earlier but i blinked and it's almost we are wednesday again. however, i still wanna get some thoughts on page for posterity.

only boo (completed!)

while this show had its imperfections, its triumphs largely outweighed its shortcomings. as a vehicle to showcase seakeen's acting abilities, chemistry, and viability as a cp, you really couldn't have asked for much more. moo is a son of all time, and both he and kang were fully realized characters that were a joy to watch and root for each week.

i think the writing sacrificed some of its side plots to the trope gods—the secondary romance between potae and payos deserved more than endless miscommunication, while shone's reintroduction as an eleventh-hour obstacle was clunky at best. there are also valid criticisms to be made about gmmtv's (in)ability to deliver a substantial in-text critique of the idol industry's stance on dating, and if that had been part of the show's thesis, maybe i'd feel more strongly about it, but it wasn't. it was an obstacle for the relationship between kang and moo, and as a gmmtv romcom, it was never positioned to promise anything more than a happy ending.

was the central storyline strong enough to overcome some of the uneven writing towards the end? to me, yes, absolutely it was. kangmoo was the beating heart of the show, and the script did everything right, up until graduation, to make us buy into not only their individual characterizations and motivations but also the strength of their relationship, the mutual support and adoration and understanding that made their love feel so much fuller. i'm going to miss having seakeen on my screen every sunday and i hope they get the superstar projects they deserve moving forward.

wandee goodday (ep 8 of 12)

this show has kind of entered a mushy middle stage for me. fake dating, as a trope, requires healthy suspension of belief, and the fwb setup is working at odds with that. it's become very evident in the last couple of episodes, where the only way dee and yak can individually keep up their own pretenses (more on dee's side, tbf to yak) is through a deliberate failure of communication, which gets exhausting to watch after a while. i'm glad yak finally confessed his feelings at the end of ep 8; hopefully the show can emerge out of this storytelling slump and end on a strong note.

oye and cher's proposal scene made me emotional, though. it was so sweet and so simple, and although we still don't have too much background on their relationship, it felt very organic to what we know of them, with the imaginary ring and the casual spontaneity of it all.

my stand-in (ep 9 of 12)

i was not expecting this to be my front-runner for show of the year, but it's really hitting on all levels for me: acting (up is always special, and poom has been a revelation), production (cinematography and camerawork are magnificent), and storytelling (smart, elegant adaptation and localization choices for the most part). with 3 episodes left and most of the major secrets revealed, there's plenty of time for groveling, retribution, and tying up loose ends, by which i mean fucking in missionary. no major notes; carry on.

we are (ep 12 of 16)

last week's episode was a bit slow even by this show's own standards, but what i liked about it was getting to see more of phum and fang's home life and how that has shaped their approaches to relationships. a lot of it was implied in the earlier episodes, so seeing it depicted a little more clearly—phum's abandonment issues and current friction with his father, fang's self-imposed perfectionism—introduced some much-needed depth to their characters.

also, unlike dee and yak's infuriating situationship in wandee goodday, i don't mind the undefined limbo that phum and peem have been occupying. this show has shown us that peem struggles with articulating his sense of self, most notably through his art, so it makes sense to me that he would be overly cautious in confirming his own feelings on an intellectual level, despite being able to act on his emotional and physical connection to phum.

i'm a little worried the show isn't leaving enough room to properly develop chainpun as the final couple, but what we haven gotten is delightful. in another universe this is the friends-to-lovers slowburn of my dreams.

knock knock boys (ep 5 of 12)

speaking of delights, this show is so fucking underrated. it has given me everything i wanted from its pilot trailer: the housemate shenanigans and comedic beats are chef's kiss, of course, but there's also a real sense of a camaraderie being built up between the four boys. the acting, also, has been remarkably even; i knew seng and best would bring it, but jaonine and nokia have held their own and really inhabited their roles.

i'm actually really pleased that jane is, in fact, peak's fiancee. the vibes that some of us got from that initial glimpse of their relationship wasn't wrong, though—they treat each other the way siblings do, which is probably indicative of an arrangement between their families. jane is on "i got your location from your dad" terms with peak's father, but she's also on "i'll cover for you and pretend you're not here" terms with peak, even as she's fully committed to invading his space and annoying the snot out of him until he gives in and stops running from his problems. extremely sibling behavior!! there is not a single whiff of romance between the two of them, but they are facing a difficult situation that will need to be resolved before either of them can move on and live their lives.

one thing about this show that i keep thinking about is the significance of thanwa's wardrobe. i clocked in ep 1 that he and his (probable) ex dressed very similarly, and the scene with the two of them in ep 5 just drove that detail home. now that we know thanwa a little better, i wonder if he's the type of person to conform to a lover's aesthetic (consciously or subconsciously). he is a caretaker and a little bit of a pushover, and clothing choice is a way that could manifest. it might not be anything, but i also wouldn't be surprised if we see some of peak's style sneak into thanwa's wardrobe as their romance develops.

there's so much more i could say about this show! the characters are all so fascinating to me, both individually and as a group!!! i'm gonna be late for a movie if i keep typing, though, so i will try to organize further thoughts after this week's episode.

love sea (ep 3 of 10)

as far as mame shows go, this has been unexpectedly enjoyable from the jump. fortpeat are delivering a much different dynamic than their whumpfest from LITA, and if you take out all the smoldering sex scenes, there has been plenty of actual character (and relationship) development through dialogue, which i appreciate. i like that the tension isn't confined to simple class difference; the writing situates mut at the intersection of various regional, economic, and environmental concerns, and that makes him so much more compelling as a foil to tongrak's more conventional slate of bl traumas. i do hope the show continues to maintain those core parts of his characterization as the romance progresses.

[redsod-a]

AU stuff? AU stuff! TONS OF INFO BELOW ^_^

Kyoko Kirigiri Born into the Kirigiri name-sake, Kyoko had a predestined life. Originally her home life was incredibly comfortable, although there was an underlying presure to excel in anything she involved herself in. Having a sick mother most of her childhood further pushed her even further to be successful. (even if that meant at the moment just getting good marks.) Once her mother passed away when she was thirteen, Jin tried the best he could to continue being a competent father with varying degrees of success. It wasn't even a full two years before Fuhito gained custody of her and the rest of her adolescence was spent intensifying her interest into forensic science. She's, of course, gotten really good at that. Working for her grandfather was both incredibly traumatizing and incredibly useful, shaping her into a mash-mash of both genuinely intelligent morals and a dry sense of communication.

Married at 30 for legal and expectational reasons. Is lucky to be married to Naegi who is pretty considerate of her boundaries.

Owns and can use a gun, but for personal reasons would never result to that.

OCD, GAD, probably has a multitude of quirks to keep herself grounded. ASD

Caffeine patches > coffee

Used to be kind of an alcoholic.

She has much more free will than she exercises, but she's afraid of living her life the way she really wants. Holds her grandfather up on a pedestal he doesn't really deserve.

Blames her father for how her life turned out and highly resents him. Truthfully he's always wanted the best for her and will never stop trying to be in her life.

Please fix your diet and sleep schedule, Kyoko.

Yes, her hands are still scarred. She's insecure. Mukuro Ikusaba "Mukuro Ikusaba" (birth name lost to the winds of time) was born into filth. She and her twin, "Junko Enoshina" (real name also lost to the winds of time) where the result of unhealthy affairs, which ultimately led to their early lives being from one foster home to another. Being the oldest (because she just declared herself as such one day), Mukuro felt an obligation to keep Junko safe. Honestly, her history is muddy, and she hardly can recall her life prior to fenrir. According to Junko, she was an entirely different person. Their situation was never ideal but Mukuro was always the kinder and more sociable of the two, making their lives just a bit brighter. Until Fenrir, of course. She doesn't detail anything that had happened to her, and chooses to keep her life during her time with the group to herself. While a little annoying to Junko, when Mukuro returned, she found that her new set of skills and loyalty could be useful in her own business ventures. Mukuro spent most of her life up until her return under constant pressure and threat of death, and be re-released into society (even under her sister's care) was incredibly distressing, and she finds it hard to cope with it all. Unemployed but Junko makes more than enough money.

Really questionable coping mechanisms.

Poor thing. Just really struggling.

BPD , C-PTSD , psychosis symptoms

Despite everything, she tries to keep herself relatively healthy.

Meeting Sayaka changed a lot for her positively.

Is surprisingly very gentle but doesn't know her own strength sometimes.

Very quiet unless she's really comfortable with who she's around.

While she is exceptional at combat and handling weaponry, she has specific triggers surrounding them. Sometimes it's comforting, other times its delusion inducing.

Gets mistaken for a guy sometimes. Doesnt rlly enjoy that.

No right boob for reasons unknown. Wasn't born that way. Won't share how that happened. Celestia Ludenberg Celestia grew up in the deep south of Louisiana and lived there until she was sixteen. During that time she knew and spoke both French and English (although she spoke French much better.) and had to hit a learning curve once she moved to Japan with her mother and two other siblings. She adopted her mother's surname once she turned 18, but as it turned out, 'Celestia Ludenberg' would be more what people knew her as. Gambling was her father's sport. He gambled throughout her youth and because of the nature of his games, these matches were held in her childhood home. Of which was never truly safe for her to begin with. (Mostly why her mother choose to move back in with her parents) Celestia retained and kept this knowledge until it became useful to her. Rather than earn money legitimately to support her mother, grandparents, and younger siblings, she became a very proficient gambler. 'Celestia Ludenberg' came around as a way to protect her family's identity but once her snowball of lies formed it became a permanent way to introduce herself. Her less than legal actions kept her on a spree of winning, losing, winning, winning some more, until eventually she had a name made for herself. Unfortunately, she began to familiarize herself with organized crime and decided it'd be best to distance herself from her family forever. A portion of whatever she wins she makes sure they receive, but she hasn't seen them herself since she was 23. She lives alone with her beloved cat Grand Bois, and despite her snake-like and confident façade, she's more than a little lonely.

Multi-lingual but has an accent regardless. Sounds really fucking stupid in Japanese. English is not her best language.

Is secretly very nerdy and adores different types of media. Her good friends happily encourage her.

Thinks Kyoko cheating on her husband with her in endlessly entertaining.

Cannot stand alcohol but she'll drink wine for appearances. HATES being drunk.

Fragmented sense of self. Fuck it well ball.

Loves baking and trying new things. Can't really cook at all though.

Fashion sense beyond belief. Thinks it pulls away from the rest of her so-called imperfections.

Might be bipolar honestly. Sayaka Maizono Sayaka counts herself as very lucky. Her home life as a child was great but not without it's challenges. Her father really wanted a son he could feel connected to, but Sayaka never felt that way. Mostly because she loved the idea of becoming a pop star. She wanted the sparkly grand life and wardrobe of the girls she saw on television. Infatuated with American aesthetics and fashion, Maizono was hardly like other boys at all. Much to the displeasure of her father, and confusion of her mother. Their warnings never stopped her for her pursuit of happiness. Nothing did until she achieved the goals she's always wanted through dreadfully long and exhausting work. Her parents came around to supporting her (if not a bit wearily). Sensing her potential, her label, granted everything she could ever want at the cost of basically her autotomy and identity. She was only barely 19 at the time, but was so desperate for everything she worked for up until then that she didn't look before she leapt. She was able to transition, given a place to live beyond what her old home ever was, and had everything about who she used to be basically wiped. As an idol, everything she had every wanted was in her hands, but at the cost of becoming a product.

Dated Ibuki (popular vkei artist) briefly. Would describe their relationship as transactional and 'doomed to fail'.

Behind the scenes, she is really just that nice.

She is so fucking sick of pink but its basically her brand.

Her managment is 50/50 on the awful to pretty okay scale.

Really can defend herself perfectly fine, but hired Mukuro as her personal body guard. A) for appearances B) She thinks watching her threatening people much bigger than her is more than a little attractive.

Loves a good party, and if it wasnt for her image, she'd so be down with the freaks and weirdos scene.

Knows that everyone sees her as totally innocent. Uses that to her advantage.

Only Mukuro knows she's a trans woman. Came out while drunk, Mukuro didn't care. Was way more focused on the fact Sayaka liked her.

Dog person.

[radiohusbandaskblog]

How would you describe the relationship your friends (and your lover) have with eachother?

It would depend on which friends we're talking about. Me and Vox have a very established and communicative relationship, we know exactly how to help eachother and respect eachothers boundaries. We're husbands so it makes sense. We're rather healthy.

Me and Velvette get along and sometimes I help out with modelling and giving her inputs on other types of fashion from certain time eras just as an act of helping out and helping her expand her overlordly fashion lines, of course. I view her like a sibling at times.

Me and Valentino don't exactly see eye to eye and its no lie that he loves to frequent and attempt to flirt with me. However I don't like it and I've expressed that, but I've learnt to accept and know I can't really change much of his department. I believe he has a lingering crush on Vox however he knows not to step into already owned territory. I suppose I view him as just a old bug on the wall, however that doesn't mean I wouldn't care for the bug.

Me and Rosie are fabulous pals. I view her like a blood relative. She's the sweetest belle ever, a charmer too. Her drawings and recent captures of fresh territory are rather fascinating. We met the year I fell, so it wasn't too bad.

As for Charlie, she's my daughter. Not in a blood way, but I view her like a daughter. I suppose. Vox insisted on having Charlie around as protection because "you never know what could happen, alastor, you haven't been around for seven years so like.. something could happen and it could be beneficial to have princess morningstar on our side if you ever got hurt."

Niffty is such a charming demon belle. Willingly handed off her soul to me and she's such a grand cleaner. She'd be like a lost puppy if it weren't for my protection and attention on such her quick skills, she'd probably be assassinated by now.

I already knew of Angel Dust prior to the hotel however I dislike how Valentino treats him, but its not my problem. For its not my circus so its not my monkeys. Surely you would understand.

You already know my opinion of Husker.

Vaggies too familiar with her attitude to respect authority so I don't like her. She's waste under my boot.

[creature-wizard]

Hi I came from loa side, so you don't think the void is real in the sense that you can manifest waking up with like blue hair or something? I've always felt left out reading all the void stories. I've always thought it wasn't real. But I'm confused why there's so many stories? I don't wanna accuse the bloggers of writing in their own asks. But I don't know.....i feel like the void has kind of died down though. Which is odd isn't it? Also do you condone like learning to so sleep paralysis to enter the void?

I think it's a pretty safe bet that all of the people claiming they woke up with blue hair or something equally fantastical are either trying to practice living in the end, talking about their 4D (imaginary/ideal) life, or lying for clout or acceptance.

The Tumblr Law of Assumption community is full of people with extremely toxic worldviews and lack healthy coping mechanisms to deal with their poor self-esteems. There's this huge emphasis on being better than everyone else and having this perfect ideal life. When that's what people are trying to boost their self-esteem on, they're very likely to start lying sooner or later because these are inherently unrealistic goals. A great example of someone who lives like this is Donald Trump. He just constantly lies to try and maintain this illusion he's feeding his ego with.

Add to that, there is so much shame thrown on people who can't manifest all this stuff they've been told they can manifest that they might just start lying to feel more accepted within the community and escape the shame they're getting.

Regarding the void state, I'm pretty sure the "sleep paralysis" they're talking about is just really deep relaxation, which isn't harmful. Like I don't think it's going to necessarily give you better results, but I don't think it's going to hurt anything.

For anyone reading this: If you are leaving or questioning the Law of Assumption and need help, please see this post.

[magicalbats]

A Helping Hand (and then some)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 9361

Warnings: afab!reader, masturbation, wall sex, oral sex (male receiving), a healthy dose of pining

⭐

The unfortunate truth of living in the company barracks is that privacy is an exceedingly hard thing to come by. A rare luxury afforded only to a select few when everything was communal from the baths out back to the sleeping quarters where upwards of five bodies could be housed in a single room at any given time. In that sense you greatly envied the officers that came from wealthy families and noble houses who had a place they could retreat to at the end of the day. They were free to come and go, more or less as they pleased, barring any pressing engagements or standing orders, but hailing from the slums of the Rukongai … you weren’t quite so lucky. 

Slowly breathing out through your nose, you turn your head against the pillow to regard the girl sleeping on the futon next to you. She was snoring as loud as ever and the sound of it seemed to ring in your ears like a brass gong being struck again and again. Per usual she was out like a light. If it was only her to worry about you probably could have gotten away with just about anything so long as you weren’t too loud about it, but there were others resting in the same room, including Toki who often stirred at the slightest disturbance. It had taken her months to get used to the deep, sonorous noises coming from the other bed but now she only snapped awake when someone got up to use the bathroom, regardless of how quiet they’d tried to be. You’d had to find that out the hard way when she very nearly chewed your head off one night for making too much racket despite using your best tiptoes to try and sneak by. For someone who was usually so serene and placid she could be a rather scary person when half asleep …

There just wasn’t anything you could do with her laying a mere arms length away though and, determined to put the thought out of your head, you decisively roll over onto your side. But no matter how long you lie there willing yourself to drift off you simply can’t ignore the low heat in your gut. It’s insistent and demanding, beckoning you to reach down and do something about it. In truth you would have all too happily obliged if the risk were not so great. Had even tried to linger in the bath long enough for everyone else to filter out and leave you to it but luck wasn't on your side much these days. Living in such close proximity with the admittedly small number of other women in the sixth division made it almost impossible to diverge from routine, so when they moved from the soaking tub to the changing room to get dressed for bed you’d found yourself solemnly following suit. It was too much to ask for even a moment of privacy in a place like this. 

You’d ignored these wanting pangs for weeks though. Tried in vain to focus on your duties and keep yourself busy with more productive outlets instead, and yet the dull thrum within your cunt never quite went away. Not completely, at any rate. It was always there, waiting just below the surface for the perfect moment to catch you unawares; and sometimes it would recede to the back of your mind like low tide when you were too preoccupied with something else only to come crashing back as soon as you were at ease once again. You could have screamed, you were so horny. 

If you just had somewhere you could go …

Biting back the urge to groan, in frustration or wanton hunger, you aren’t sure which, you not so subtly squeeze your thighs and rub them together, as if that would do you any good. It only makes it worse, in fact. Your pussy needed real friction, not this blithe imitation that makes you clench your teeth in annoyance, and for a split second you seriously consider throwing caution to the wind. You’re so tempted to plunge your hand beneath the blanket and find blissful relief on your fingertips that you have to wrestle with it. Force it into submission. There were plenty of things you were willing to do if it meant finally getting off but waking the others to the sound of you hissing in pleasure wasn’t one of them. How could you ever expect them to look you in the face after something like that? You’d have to put in a transfer request first thing in the morning, but even that wouldn’t stop the rumor mill from turning. 

Feeling your desperation start to spike, you frantically ponder the issue at hand. Surely there was somewhere you could go. 

Sneaking into the bath at this hour just for the privacy it would provide was, unfortunately, not a good idea. If you ran into a senior officer there would be plenty of questions you don’t have readily available answers to, and that was to say nothing of actually being caught in the act. How embarrassing. No, you needed to think of a place where there would be the least likely chance of discovery. Anything that required you to cross the courtyard was out of the question for just that reason. You’d be easily spotted out in the open like that. Although the dining room was sure to be empty at this time of night you didn’t like the sound of it much, not where people eat. The kitchen was similarly a non option for that reason too. Captain Kuchiki’s office was a tempting thought if only because no one would ever dare step foot inside without permission but, well … that included you too. Unfortunately you weren’t that brave. Listlessly, your thoughts drift to the training hall and then linger there. 

The more you considered it, the better the idea sounded. No one in their right mind (besides you, evidently) would have any reason to go there in the middle of the night and the place already smells vaguely like sweat no matter how much it’s cleaned. Being used for sparring matches and drills did that to a place after countless centuries of use. But there would be no evidence of your illicit deeds for someone to sniff out later, either figuratively or literally, and you probably wouldn’t cross paths with anyone either. There was higher probability of a senior officer taking a late night dip after finishing up one last stack of paperwork than of that same officer dragging himself into the dojo before bed. Logically, it was a flawless plan. You could be in and out in a matter of minutes, considering how intensely your pussy throbs at the prospect, urging you to follow through. You just hoped it would be enough to satisfy you so you could finally get some sleep. 

Steeling your resolve to carry out this undeniably stupid idea, you gingerly push up to sit. You take a moment just to listen, noting the slow, shallow breaths of the other girls, each in turn, to be sure that they were still fast asleep before making your move. Even Toki seemed to be in a deep slumber and hadn’t so much as turned over in her spot nearest the far wall. That was as good a sign as any, and your heart seems to wedge itself in your throat as you carefully crawl out of bed on all fours. You felt like a proper fool for it, but it was better to be safe than risk standing now and making too much noise that would alert the others. Every little creak and whine of the tatami under your knees sounds devastatingly loud, threatening to drown out the intermittent rumble of a snoring girl, but surely that was just your imagination, right? You weren’t actually being that loud, were you?

“Where’re you going?” 

Your hand stills halfway through the motion of reaching up for the edge of the sliding shoji door. You recognize the voice, of course, and it’s unmistakably Toki’s, but you still glance over your shoulder to confirm that she is indeed propped up on one elbow now and blearily squinting at you through the dark. Not that it came as a great shock or anything. 

“Bathroom.” You whisper back. 

She hesitates as if torn between accepting that answer without another thought or questioning it, and then she seems to further rouse herself. “Why are you crawling around on the floor?” She sounds more alert this time, and you desperately try to stamp down the panic quickly rising in your chest. 

“I was trying not to wake you. I just thought - -“

Toki cuts you off with a groggy, raspy laugh. “I can see that. Good job, by the way.”  

You anxiously bite down on your lower lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Reaching up to flip her long ponytail over her shoulder where it had slipped forward, she lays back down and draws the blanket up over her head with a sigh. “Just hurry up. We’ve got drills in the morning.” 

We have drills every morning, you think to yourself but refrain from speaking it, deciding you were just lucky that she was willing to leave it at that and nothing more. You’d prefer not to be interrogated any further, unsure if your little white lies could hold up under her scrutiny - or anyones scrutiny, for that matter. Especially not when you could feel a second heartbeat between your legs, eagerly pulsing at the promise of friction and pressure, and you hastily grab at the door so you can get it open. No, this wasn’t going to take long at all. 

Still kneeling on the floor, you carefully close the paper screen door behind you and then quietly move to stand. The way you smooth your hands over your yukata to iron out the wrinkles is superfluous at best, a force of habit, while your mind swarms with decidedly indecent thoughts as you wander down the empty hall. It had been a long time since you last did, well, anything, really. But between working yourself ragged just to graduate from the academy you’d had to fight to gain access to and then trying to cement a place for yourself in the sixth division, who even had the time? Maybe that’s why it was so overwhelming and potent now. You’d given it plenty of opportunity to build up and fester, and here you were sneaking around in the dead of night to deal with the problem only after it had become too much for you to overlook anymore. It was a bit frustrating to find that you were still haplessly ruled by your body’s baser urges but perhaps you’d do your part not to neglect it quite so much in the future. 

If it saved you from embarrassing situations such as this then it would be well worth the effort but, even besides that, you’d earned it, hadn’t you? The luxury to worry about yourself rather than the myriad of other things you’d had to put first up until now. Barely surviving on the streets, training with heavy wooden swords until your palms bled and then staying up late to cram as much information into your head as you could manage for a test the next morning. There had been no end in sight for such a long time that somewhere along the way you’d forgotten what the finish line was even supposed to look like but you’d made it, right? Your acceptance into the sixth division was the indelible proof of that and now … 

Your cheeks feel hot with excitement as you wind your way through the barracks, taking care to step lightly and use the halls least often traversed. You were looking forward to this a great deal. Maybe a bit more than you should but there was no point getting caught up on that now, your fingers itching impatiently with the desire to rub hasty circles over your clit. Just a few minutes alone where no one would find you. That was all you needed. 

The early spring night is cool when you step out onto the wrap around porch and you shudder faintly against the surge of goosebumps that erupt along your skin. It makes the already stiffened tips of your breasts pucker and harden to fine points, pressing firmly into the front of your yukata. You feel weak in the knees with it. Hazy and intoxicated, your breath coming a little quicker as you creep down to the entrance of the training hall where you’re relieved to find the door unlocked. You hadn’t even stopped to consider what you would do if you couldn’t get in but you don’t dwell on it. It’s as if you’re in a stuporous trance that begins and ends with your cunt, completely consumed with this all encompassing need to feel the sharp release of tension that only an orgasm could provide. Try as you might, you couldn’t recall a time when you’d been quite this horny. It was staggering. 

Quickly fumbling your way inside, you barely get the door slid shut again, leaving just enough of a gap for a thin stream of moonlight to cut through the darkness, before reaching up to tug on the sash that circles your waist. Fabric loosens and sags around your shoulders, and you’re halfway through the motion of shrugging out of the yukata altogether when you suddenly think better of it. You should probably keep it on, just on the off chance you had to make a hasty exit. That didn’t seem likely but you’d long since learned to err on the side of caution if you wanted to stay alive long enough to see another day, so you merely spread the cotton out around you instead. You hadn’t thought it was possible for your nipples to get any harder than they already were and you whimper faintly when the mild air hits your bare skin full blast. It seemed that you were even more sensitized than you’d initially thought, your pussy thrumming heatedly with anticipation as you blindly shuffle around until you can put your back to the wall. 

There’s no point bothering with a warm up when you already felt so hot and sticky between the legs, and you tentatively cup your hand over yourself with a stuttering breath. Absently, you use the other to cradle your breast but that was an afterthought more than anything. Nothing else mattered except sating this intense need that had your guts curled into a tight, anticipatory knot. 

Holding the air in your lungs, you tentatively rub your fingers over the slit in your body and a hot pulse sparks inside you when they come back wet. Yes, you certainly did not need to bother with foreplay tonight. You were practically soaked in arousal to the point that even your inner thighs felt a little damp with it, as if your entire body was alight with all the pent up, frustrated energy. Allowing yourself a quiet moan into the still air, you at last find your clit and begin to circle it with slow, stuttering passes of your hand. It felt good. 

It felt so good, in fact, that you could just scream. 

You quickly lose yourself to the sensation of fast approaching relief, canting your hips slightly to follow the rhythm of your fingers. Muscles were already starting to tense and vibrate, making it all the harder for you to stay standing on your feet without tipping dangerously to one side, but you lean into it rather than try to fight it. It would have been an effort in futility anyway, so you gradually start to slide down the wall in a half crouch that only seems to make your pussy throb even harder. You were balancing right on the edge now, so close you could almost taste it on the back of your tongue. 

Another hushed groan slips from your mouth as you tip your head back and - - 

The screen door just to your left suddenly flies open and the overhead light flickers on. You give a violent jerk and then, to your quickly mounting horror, you freeze in place. It’s like you’ve been petrified, everything right down to your constricting lungs suspended in place. You don’t even have the wherewithal to remove your hand from between your legs, and all you can do is watch as vice-captain Abarai pokes his head into the training hall, mumbling under his breath about who hadn’t locked everything up properly for the night. Then, he turns his head and looks over at you. 

He promptly freezes up as well, broad shoulders stiff and drawn back in abject shock. You probably would have laughed at how ridiculous the situation actually was if only you weren’t watching your very life flash before your eyes. Your career in the sixth was over, no doubt about that. 

Evidently snapping out of his stupor, Renji draws a sharp breath that seems to cut through the otherwise quiet evening. “You -!” He whips his head around to surreptitiously glance over his shoulder, perhaps checking for any other potential voyeurs before taking a step across the threshold. Rather politely he closes the door behind him before turning on you again with a look that is equal parts furious and perturbed. “Are you out of your mind? What the hell do you think you’re doing!” 

You can’t help but wince at the aggressive shout-whisper he’s using even as you straighten up, self consciously tugging at your yukata to cover the important bits. It was probably a little late for that now but you still had some dignity to preserve. “Vice-captain, this isn’t what it looks like.” 

“What could it possibly be then? I’d say what I just walked in on more than speaks for itself!” He almost looks like he wants to reach up and rip his own hair out, so flustered and incensed, but he somehow manages to refrain. You can’t quite meet his eyes though, and guiltily focus your attention elsewhere instead. It wouldn’t do you any good to flee the scene of the crime now so honesty was your only option then. Great.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. I didn’t think … I just thought I could have some privacy here, that’s all.”

He starts to say something, cuts himself off and then tries again only to trail off with a low, rumbling groan. Realizing he has no idea how to respond to that, you steal a quick glance at him and watch as he brings a hand up to cover his face. For a long moment the two of you just stand there in that awkward, resounding silence. 

“It’s not like I don’t get what you’re saying.” He says at last, in the quiet tone of a man who has hit a conundrum and promptly given up on maintaining his impartiality in the face of it. “I know exactly how hard it can be to find some time for yourself in this damned place, but I still think you could have picked a better spot. You’re just lucky it wasn’t Captain Kuchiki who found you like this.” 

Slowly, Renji lowers his hand then and you’re so struck by the furious blush staining his high cheekbones that you let a surprised little “Oh” slip out. He cuts you a quick, scathing look at the sound and, embarrassed by it, you demurely drop your gaze. That proves to be a mistake, however, and your eyes widen at the faint bulge tenting the front of his hakama just so.

“Oh.” You blurt again, with feeling this time. 

“Stop that!” He hisses, shifting his weight as if to try and hide the evidence of his body’s reaction. It does little in the way of good when he’s so slim and lithe that his uniform, usually draped around him in a breezy fashion, now prominently shows off anything that sticks up out of place. It may have been a different story altogether with someone like vice-captain Omaeda who was much larger and who’s shihakusho hung differently as a result, but with Renji … where there was once only a single, uninterrupted line to his body, there now existed an unmistakable weight pressing against the interior of his pants. It was as damning as it was promising, and your mind positively swims at the implication.

Just the thought of it is enough to have your pussy clenching tight and you shudder faintly with a renewed sense of dizziness. It wasn’t as if you’d never noticed him before now; in fact you may or may not have harbored something of a schoolgirl crush on your vice-captain but you’d never actually entertained the notion. You hadn’t thought it was a feasible prospect for you but this changed things somewhat, and you were just so desperate for relief. 

Did you really dare to cross that invisible boundary though, in what was quite possibly the worst conceivable situation to do it in?

“Fukutaichou - -“

“No! Nope! Not happening!” Renji throws his arms up in clear defeat and hastily pivots towards the door. Your heart hammers into overdrive as you watch him reach for the edge of the screen, dread and disappointment settling heavy in your stomach. But he pauses there, seems to hesitate. The way he deliberately refuses to look at you when he speaks again doesn’t escape your notice by a long shot. “I’m sorry, but I can’t compromise my position like this. Take care of your business and get back to bed. Just make sure to lock up when you’re done.” 

“But…”

He flinches slightly at the hurt in your voice, yet still he refuses to turn back around. “I won’t report this to Captain Kuchiki or reprimand you for it. I understand where you’re coming from, just …” Renji gives his head a vicious shake as if to clear his thoughts. “I am the lieutenant of this squad. It wouldn’t be right for me to abuse my authority like that.” 

“Is it an abuse of authority if I want you to do it?” 

Apparently unable to stop himself now, Renji whips his face around to gape at you in slack jawed surprise. The disbelief you see reflected in his comically widened eyes gives you that last little bit of incentive you need to reach down and slowly part the bottom half of your yukata. Pinching the cotton between your fingers, you daintily lift the fabric out to the sides as if performing a curtsy at a ball and he watches on with nothing short of boldfaced disbelief. You’re more than a little ashamed to be bearing yourself at him like this but you still feel your cunt give a muted twitch against the cool, wafting air even as more sticky slick drools out of you in response. Perhaps you were pushing things too far and would soon come to regret it but maybe, just maybe … 

“Please, vice-captain Abarai,” you whisper into the terse silence. “Won’t you help me? I'm so hot and dizzy … I know you’d make me feel even better than my fingers would so surely we can help each other?”

A long, stalled out beat passes over the room and then Renji swallows so hard you can hear the muscles in his throat working even from where you’re standing. You can’t seem to bring your attention back up to look at him though, much too focused on staring at the toes of your socks where they’re nervously curled up on the hardwood floor. It feels like your heart is moments away from bursting right out of your chest, pounding so wildly against the inside of your ribcage it’s a wonder you’re still breathing at all. But then you catch a shuffling step and time itself seems to stop altogether, chest aching from the sudden wrench when you realize he’s coming closer. Pressing your lips into a thin, warbling line to stop yourself from whimpering at the sound of his approach, you wait as if on the precipice of some great, gaping chasm until his own tabi enter your line of sight. His feet are much, much bigger than yours, you suddenly notice. 

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He murmurs, his voice dropped a noticeable octave that sends goosebumps erupting over your skin. 

“You’re not.” 

“Fraternizing like this between ranked officers and servicemen is highly frowned upon.” He tries again. Almost like he’s trying to convince you as much as himself. How interesting. “I could get into some serious trouble.” 

“I won’t tell anyone …” 

“But if we get caught,” Renji draws a deep, long suffering breath and you twitch when his hand inches into your space. He hesitates with those long, calloused fingers hovering just over your bare thigh before finally giving in to temptation, curving his hand around the fattest part of your leg in a loose grip. You suck in a haggard gasp, inching the folds of your yukata further open, inviting him to proceed, but still he wavers. “Are you really certain you want me? I’m sure there are plenty of other men who would jump at the chance to have you even in the other companies.” 

You shake your head. “I want you, fukutaichou. I’m positive.” 

A low growl rumbles out of him and you lift your head at last, surprise washing over you when you take in the darkened expression on his face. It’s something primal and masculine staring back at you now, something that makes your knees threaten to give out, and you suddenly find yourself feeling like cornered prey as he digs those fingers into the plush give of your thigh so he can tug you closer to him. “Just call me Renji. I’m no longer your lieutenant right now.” 

“Then what are you?” Your voice is small and tremulous, shuddering faintly when he bends close. 

“Just a man. Nothing more.” Tilting his head, Renji presses his mouth to yours in a searing kiss that instantly has you arching your back. The hand on your thigh turns possessive, squeezing and groping at you with a need of his own that almost catches you off guard. But you’re soaring on an adrenaline high, drunk off fast pumping endorphins, and you eagerly lean into him, going up on your tiptoes to accommodate some of the height difference. It was hard to believe that this was actually happening, that he was really kissing you like this. Did that give you reason enough to hope? Did you dare to let your foolish heart yearn for something more? You weren’t so sure that was a good idea, and you think you’re probably getting ahead of yourself a little bit, but … surely he wouldn’t have given in so easily if he didn’t find you attractive on some level.

Right?

Groaning, you pointedly shove such fanciful notions to the back of your mind when he reaches around to fondle your ass. The staggering size of his palm makes you feel small and delicate against him, fragile even, which was not a feeling you were accustomed to since you’d taken up the sword several dozen lifetimes ago. You’d noticed it before, of course, but nothing could have quite prepared you for how big he actually seemed to be when his hands were on you like this. Sighing against his lips, you rock forward and he responds by squeezing the back of your thigh hard enough to leave a burning ache behind. For a split second you think he’s going to haul you up against him, take you right off your feet and pin you to the wall, but he seems to change his mind. 

Releasing you, Renji instead slides his hand to the front and dips between your legs where he presses the flats of his fingers against your drenched slit. You gasp in almost perfect unison with him and, panting, the two of you jerk apart to look at one another. 

“Shit,” he seethes, tattooed brows pinched together. “You’re soaking wet. Are you sure you didn’t already cum?” 

“Please don’t stop.” You beg, finally dropping the parts of your yukata so you can bring your arms up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him closer. He acquiesces with an almost bestial snarl, pressing in so close that it knocks you back against the wall with a dull thud. His mouth finds your neck, your jaw; nipping at you occasionally but mostly just pressing hard kisses to the skin as he slowly works his hand over your cunt with steady, circular motions that were not unlike the same ones you’d used on yourself earlier. The feel of his hand is much different from your own though, his fingers blockier and thicker, and considerably rougher too. It makes this part of you feel indescribably small as well, like something he could easily hold in his palm with plenty of room to spare, and there’s an undeniable appeal in that too. It drives you positively wild. 

Writhing, you press back into the wall until it feels like you’re all but crawling up it, desperately tugging at his uniform to get it off. Renji isn’t particularly cooperative about it though, too much of his attention focused on getting your yukata pulled down to expose your shoulder and breast. Hunching further over you, he pecks at your collarbone and the swell of your tit before latching onto the nipple so he can suck at it. A startled moan bursts out of you, and you quickly give up on getting him undressed so you can cover your mouth instead. You couldn’t get caught. Not like this. You’d never be able to forgive yourself if you got Renji into trouble but it just felt so good. Between his tongue flicking over your pert, stiffened teat and the slow drag of his long fingers on your leaking cunt, you really were going to cum soon. 

You try to warn him — try to tell him to give you a moment because the fast building tension was too much and you weren’t sure if you were ready for such an explosive orgasm — but all that comes out from behind the clammy palm of your hand are muffled, near frantic sounds of pleasure. Your chest heaves as you twist against him in an attempt to escape the brunt of what you were feeling but it was too late. The coil in your gut starts to vibrate and, eyes going big as saucers, you jerk your other hand down to grab at his wrist. You can feel the tendons in his arm flexing under your fingers as he continues to rub your pussy, ignoring the high pitched keening that slips out of you no matter how hard you try to bite it back. All it takes to send you over the edge is a quick glance between the two of you, taking in the sight of his hand disappearing between your legs, and you instantly shatter into a million pieces. 

Tears spring up in your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure, hips juddering in sensitive bliss while you whimper and mewl in overwhelming ecstasy. The deluge of slick that suddenly floods your cunt all at once is obscene and more than just a little embarrassing, but you hardly have the presence of mind to apologize for it right now. The tremors just keep coming, rattling you straight down to the bone until at last it starts to ebb and fade away bit by painstaking bit. You’re left twitching in the aftermath, wheezing as if you’d just finished running ten miles straight, and you whimper when Renji finally extricates himself from your breast with a muted pop. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” He hisses, warm breath fanning over your wet teat to make you shudder again. 

“Don’t say that.” 

“It’s true.” 

You decide to let it go in favor of basking in the lingering warmth, the hazy endorphin-filled comfort of your afterglow. Although you’d half expected it given how worked up you’d been, you’re still a bit disappointed to find that, rather than sating your hunger, it only seems to have made it worse. Your pussy offers up a dull, muted throb every so often, further emphasizing the hollow emptiness ringing through you, and you soon realize you’re going to have to make a choice. You’d already pushed your luck this far, surely another inch or two couldn’t hurt? 

Rousing from your post-orgasm stupor, you bring your hands up to tug at the folded layers of Renji’s collar while you pin him with a needy little pout. “Take this off?”

You’d anticipated that he would question you, ask if you were really sure you wanted to take it that far, but much to your relief he merely untangles himself from you and straightens up so he can undo the tie at his waist. Licking your lips, you lean back into the wall to watch as his hakama slides to the ground so he can step out, kicking them off to the side. Shrugging out of his shirts and likewise tossing those away, he starts to work at unfastening the fundoshi around his hips while you take the chance to admire his physique as well as the tattoos that create an intricate, woven pattern across his skin. You’d always wondered how far down they reached and you were delighted to finally have your answer. 

Reaching out, you press your fingertips against his pelvis, right above the spot where a thatch of wild, vibrant red hair starts, and he issues a low growl in response. The white linen finally slides away and his cock springs up in the space between you as he throws it aside to join the rest of his clothing. Your lower stomach immediately clenches with a renewed sense of urgency and need when you take in the thick shaft and bulbous head crowning the tip, but he doesn’t give you a chance to truly admire it. Quickly closing the distance again, Renji leans down to grab two big handfuls of your plump ass and he hauls you right up off your feet without so much as a word of warning. 

Letting out a small squeak, you eagerly wrap your legs around his waist and your hands find his broad, tattooed shoulders, holding on tight while he readjusts his grip on you. You grin at him from just a scant few inches away, unable to help yourself, and he returns the look with an almost exasperated one of his own. 

“I had no idea you were this insatiable.” He grumbles, making you laugh. 

“You never asked.” 

“Didn’t think I needed to,” Shuffling forward, Renji pins you against the wall and leans in to press his forehead against yours, meeting your eyes with a simmering stare of his own. The smile quickly fades from your lips, replaced by a tense, anticipatory ‘o’. You’d never seen him look so intensely masculine before. It was like looking into the face of the only man to ever exist, so primal and ageless that it further sparks the molten heat sitting low in your gut.  

“I should be the one telling you how beautiful you are.” You murmur softly, the reverence in your voice obvious as you bring a hand up to touch the side of his face. 

He offers a faint chuckle, his mouth pulling in a vaguely mischievous smirk while he shifts against you, subtly lining himself up. “Men don’t usually like hearing those kinds of compliments, unless they’re Yumichika.”

“But it’s true.” 

“Well, thank you.” His eyelids drooping to attractive half mast, Renji tips his head just ever so to bump his nose against yours. He kisses you then, slowly this time, but no less searing than the first exchange you’d shared. Eager to taste him, you open your mouth and slide your tongue past his lips where you languidly lick at the back of his throat, possessively claiming him as yours. Your heart stutters a beat at the implication of what you’re doing and the fact he’s letting you do it, but you make a valiant effort to shove such thoughts away from the forefront of your mind and ignore them. Just sharing the heat of his body was enough. You didn’t have the right to expect anything more from him. 

Your hunger for him growing rapidly, you take your time exploring his mouth, entwining your tongue around his in a sensuous dance that leaves both of you panting, and when he shifts against you next you feel the unmistakable bump of his cock searching you out. He slips and slides against the sticky mess you’ve made and, with your nerves thrumming excitedly, you wrap your arm around his neck so you can reach down with the opposite hand. Snaking between the two of you, your fingers brush against his rigid shaft and he breaks apart from the kiss with a low groan. You watch his face carefully, enjoying the pinch of his brow as you angle him towards your entrance and guide him in when he starts to slowly push inside. 

Renji’s mouth drops open in what can only be stricken bliss but no sound comes out, the tension hanging heavy in the silent training hall when he slides that first quarter of an inch into your waiting body. He hesitates a moment, tips his head back with a seething hiss as he shuffles his feet further apart to jostle you slightly before giving his narrow hips an experimental thrust upward. His thick cock sinks into you a little further, stretching you open with a delicious amount of friction to go with it, and you let out a hot, stuttering groan. His hands are bruising on your hips where they dig into soft flesh, holding you as if he was afraid you might disappear into thin air right in front of him. You would sooner die than give up this deep, burning sensation of being filled though, and you rock into him as much as you’re able to like this. 

Inch by torturous inch, he spears you straight down the middle until it feels like you’re so full you could just burst. At long last his pelvis meets the backs of your thighs and he goes still, just basking in the feeling of being gripped by your wet, squirming guts. Uselessly, your toes flex and curl in the air while you cling to him in a doped out stupor, whimpering softly at the thick intrusion. Even after finding release on his hand you’d still felt the dull pangs of need making your clit throb for more, but this … you’d never felt so full. So stretched out and claimed. The ceaseless twinge of desire that had haunted you, doggedly nipped at your heels up til’ now has finally receded into the background, an afterthought. It is completely overshadowed by this all encompassing sense of fulfillment that leaves you desperately grinding against Renji, wordlessly begging him to move. 

He takes the hint after finding his own bearings, tightening his ironlike hold on your ass and ever so carefully angling his hips back. You mewl at the hot, sticky drag of his cock pulling out only to choke on the sound when he quickly sinks back in, straight to the hilt. You feel wild and mindless now as he gradually works up a rhythm, forcing your constricting innards to make room for him and accommodate his size. Grunting softly with each and every thrust, Renji finally settles into a steady pace that has you clawing at his shoulders and biting your tongue to stop yourself from crying out. 

“You feel so good,” he grits, shoving his face into the crook of your neck where he lets loose a deep, rattling groan that seems to vibrate through you. “And you’re taking me like a champ, too. I was a little worried there for a minute … but you fit me just like a glove, don’t you?” 

Mewling, you slide your hand up to bury it in the back of his hair and pull, feeling some of those silky strands slip free of his tight ponytail in the process. “Renji! It’s too much — feels like m’gonna’ explode. Stop talking.” 

He laughs, short and breathless, against the side of your neck. You can feel the strong musculature in his body flexing when he presses himself somehow even closer, very nearly crushing you against the wall now, and you heave underneath him, gasping at the blinding pressure on your guts. Frantically, you clutch him against you and tighten your legs around his slim waist, encouraging him to fuck into you even harder. To your groaning delight, Renji obliges and it takes everything you have not to scream out when he slams into you with enough force to make the rafters shake. You were going to cum again. You weren’t sure how it was possible so soon after the first mind numbing orgasm he’d given you but you can feel it building in your cunt at an alarming speed, the tension doubling and then tripling each time he buries himself in your body. The accompanying wet squelch that rings out with it seems to echo in your ears, mingling with his rough, masculine grunts and your own helplessly stuttering moans to create a truly intoxicating symphony. 

It really was too much. 

“R - Renji! Please!” 

“Shit! I’m gonna’ cum too,” he practically snarls, teeth gnashing against your pulse. “You just feel so good. I won’t be able to hold out like this … think you can cum for me, sweetheart? I don’t know how much more I’ve got in me …” 

“Yes! Soon … I’m getting close!” 

“Then look at me.” 

Your pussy spasms around him so tightly, so vigorously, that it seems to sucker punch you and, gasping for air, you do as he’d asked. It’s a struggle to meet Renji’s eyes when his cock was still relentlessly, tirelessly drilling into you but somehow you manage. He looks mildly less wrecked than you feel, but the sheen of sweat coating his face and the dark quality of his eyes give him away. Whining low in your throat, you cling to him fervently, your back aching in protest as he presses you somehow further and further into the wall. 

He comes close then, putting his mouth just shy of yours but not quite touching yet. You think about closing that gap yourself, about stamping his lips with yours and swallowing the deep, masculine grunts that continue to slip out of him. Renji doesn’t give you the chance, however, and you find yourself seething through clenched teeth when he shifts against you so he can bring his arm down and hook it under your thigh. Using his weight to keep you upright and pinned, he forces that leg to unwind from around his waist and then folds it up towards your chest. He repeats the same process on the other side until he’s got you folded damn near in half. His cock suddenly feels even bigger in this new position, your guts squeezing down on him with enough internal pressure to make both of you gasp, and you let out a soft, bleating groan that seems to echo and bounce off the walls. 

“I’m going to count you down,” he seethes into the scant space separating you from him. “And you’re going to cum for me when I’m done. Do you understand?” 

Never mind that you were already trembling in his arms, quivering right down to the tips of your curled toes, you jerk your head in mute understanding. He looses a low sound of approval before adjusting the canter of his hips, seamlessly switching gears from the hot, merciless pounding he’d been giving you just a moment ago to something much more drawn out. Each stroke suddenly feels like it lasts an eternity, the pull out just as slow and lingering as the long, sensuous glide back in. Your pussy convulses around him and clings wetly to his shaft while the tension in your body seems to climb that much higher, reaching new and dizzying heights you hadn’t thought were possible. He was going to break you at this rate. If not physically then certainly mentally, because how were you ever supposed to find satisfaction in any other man besides him after this?

“Renji!” 

“Five.” 

Blindly reaching for him, you smash your mouth against his, kissing him as if you were starved of oxygen and he was your only lifeline. He lets you take from him as much as you want, swirling his tongue around yours while the steady, intermittent pap of his pelvis hitting your ass fills the room. Eventually you’re forced to pull back for a much needed, gasping breath of air, and he jostles you slightly when he readjusts his hold on you to hit a different angle. 

“Four …” 

You suck in such a desperate, haggard breath that it seems to tear at your throat on the way down. Your esophagus feels raw and tender now as you struggle to keep your voice down, forcing your sounds of pleasure to remain hushed instead of outright wailing over how good he’s fucking you. You’re not so sure you’ll be able to speak properly come morning but that hardly matters now when his cock is gliding so smoothly against the inner sleeve of your body and seemingly hitting every single pleasure point and sensitive nerve along the way. All you can think about is finding release on his cock and, idly – almost hysterically – you start to wonder if you’ll even make it to the end of his countdown. 

“Nghh, t - three!” 

Renji bends his head over you then, latching his mouth onto the side of your neck. A startled little “oh!” bursts out of you and you quickly bring your hand up to slap it over your mouth again. He bites down on the sensitive skin, not very hard but just enough to set the nerve endings ablaze, and your eyes start to roll back. You weren’t so sure you could keep your voice down this time, not when he was gradually winding your orgasm up to an even more explosive, earth shattering crescendo than the first, one long, sinuous stroke at a time. This was dangerous. So much more dangerous than you’d initially thought it to be, and you were starting to realize that getting caught was only one small concern on the laundry list you were steadily racking up. 

God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

“Two.” He growls, coming up off your neck only to speak before diving back in to lick a wet, hot stripe across the violently pounding pulse there. You give a small shriek, practically hyperventilating now as you claw at him, your legs jerking and splaying out at awkward angles without anything to brace against. You feel it then. The chord reaching maximum tension, threatening to snap at any moment, and you let out a borderline hysterical sob as you lurch in his arms, bringing your hands down to grip his flexing biceps in a death grip. Your nails dig in and you aren’t so sure they don’t break the skin, but it’s all you can do just to stay grounded, struggling not to let the mind numbing current pull you under and suffocate you. 

It was going to be a miracle if you didn’t alert the entire sixth division to your illicit activities. 

“Ready to cum for me, sweetheart? I know I am … you’ve got me so damn close.” Blowing out a terse exhale, Renji swoops up to catch your mouth and you kiss him back in as much as you’re able to when he just keeps pulling an unending stream of moans out of you. He accepts them all, swallows them down without a second thought, and when it starts to feel like you’re going to vibrate right out of his arms, he finally pulls back just enough to speak against your lips. “One.” 

Your spine snaps ramrod stiff, mouth flying open to scream, but before you can utter so much as a peep he’s sealed his mouth over yours once again, and you shatter. Irreparably shatter into a million fleeting pieces of yourself, wailing muffled cries against his lips while your pussy spasms uncontrollably around him. It steals the air from your lungs, sends you reeling in his hold, but still he doesn’t stop. He maintains that same, steady pace of push and pull, dragging out your orgasm to the point of real discomfort, but even in the wild throes of your release you manage to notice the shake in his hands, the stiff tremor working through his body. It’s obvious he’s painfully close and, sucking in haggard mouthfuls of air, you deliriously reach out to grip his shoulder, knowing you had to act fast. 

“Put me down …” Your voice barely even sounds like you anymore and he hesitates for half a beat before carefully moving to release you. His stiff cock slips free with an embarrassingly loud, wet pop and you sway unsteadily as he puts you on your feet. The muscles in your cunt are still sporadically clenching, the tail end of your orgasm shuddering through you even now as you weakly, gratefully sink down onto your knees in front of him. 

Renji issues a quiet sound of confusion but you don’t give him the chance to question it, gripping the fronts of his lean thighs to steady yourself when you go up on your knees. He seems to catch on a moment too late and a surprised huff rattles out of him when you catch the straining length of his cock in your mouth. Greedily, you swallow it straight down as far as you can go, and a fresh wave of satisfaction lights up within you when his big hands find the top of your head, cradling your skull gingerly. The taste of your own cunt mixed with the heady, salty taste of him swarms your senses all at once and you moan hotly around him as you work your neck back and forth, slurping loudly while you do it.

His hips sensitively twitch and he moans, low and deep, when you take him right to the back of your throat. You make a valiant attempt to swallow him down only to gag on the head, sputtering around the shaft, and he hisses in response, allowing himself a weak, halfhearted thrust into your mouth. He does it once, twice — his thighs beginning to tremble under your palms, mirroring how yours had looked only moments before — and with a final push, he gives a subdued little jerk. His cock jumps in your mouth, pulsing excitedly, and with an accompanying groan to go with it he shoots down your throat. The first clump that hits your tonsils is hot and thick but rather small. The second is much larger, fat and sticky, and you choke on it before dutifully forcing it all down your gullet. He cums much more than you’d anticipated him to when everything is said and done, creamy discharge flooding your mouth until it’s the only thing you can taste anymore. But you hold your ground until there’s nothing left and all the evidence of this unexpected tryst is sitting heavy in your stomach, settling like a warm drink that pleasantly lingers long after you’ve had the last sip. You were rather proud of yourself for taking it all, truth be told.

Spent, Renji finally dislodges his hands from you and takes a shuffling step back before bending to brace his palms on his knees. While he catches his breath, the muscles in his flat stomach still flexing and jumping underneath the skin, you take a moment to study him. Really study him. The narrow width of his deceptively lithe waist was such a sharp contrast to those broad shoulders, the long line of his legs and the well built definition in his powerful arms … he really was beautiful, and you suddenly find yourself regretting that you didn’t tell him that more while you had the chance. It seemed like such a waste now, but a quick look between his legs at the flagged member dangling there, still glistening wet with pussy slick, you know there isn’t going to be a round two for you to amend that mistake.  

Abruptly feeling awkward now that the high was starting to wear off, you self consciously tug your yukata back into place. You weren’t sure how to proceed from here. Should you thank him? Tell him how good it was for you? It’s been so long that you seem to have forgotten all your pillow manners, embarrassingly enough. 

“Renji - -“ 

“Sorry, sorry. That's my bad.” He cuts you off, holding up a single hand to stop you from speaking any further. “I don’t really expect you to believe this, but I promise I’m usually a bit better about pacing myself. I mean, I try to be, anyway. I’m not sure how else to say this but it felt like you were sucking the life right out of me. I’m completely drained.” 

Your cheeks grow warm even as you lift your brows at him incredulously. “What are you saying?” 

Grumbling, Renji finally lifts his head to pin you with a grumpy, flat eyed scowl. “I’m saying I don’t think I can bounce back from that tonight, but now that I know what kind of soul sucking demon you are I’ll be better prepared next time.” 

“Next time?” You echo him, tone high and disbelieving.

“Yeah, I’ll make it up to you then, okay?” 

Perplexed now, you tip your head at a curious angle. “You want to do this again?”

He gives you an odd look. “I mean, yeah. If you want to. I won’t force you or anything but I know I can do even better if you give me the chance. You caught me a bit off guard, you know.” 

You mull that over for a brief moment, soon realizing that such an arrangement with him would be doubly beneficial. Not only would you be able to have your needs met more often than every five years, give or take, but it would also give you a chance to win him over. It wasn’t exactly ideal, doing things out of order like this, but you weren’t really the traditional type and, looking at him, you got the sense he wasn’t either. And his promise of delivering an even better performance next time was certainly tempting in and of itself too. You were eager to see that, of course, but mostly you just felt relief. It was nice knowing some part of him must like you well enough to invite you back. That meant you had a chance, right? 

Trying in vain to ignore that hopeful little flutter deep in your chest, you offer him a quick, genuine smile. “There’s nothing to make up for in the first place, you idiot. You were great. But if you’re certain you can do an even better job next time then I’ll hold you to that.” 

He doesn’t look like he quite trusts it, fixing you with a wary side eye as he straightens up and moves to gather up his clothes. Almost like he half expected you to strike when he wasn’t looking. It’s such a silly thing but it does make you laugh. 

Feeling warm and satiated in the afterglow, you too find your feet and work to get yourself in order, straightening out your yukata and refastening the tie around your middle to hold it in place. It was in all likelihood only a small possibility but even just that tiny sliver of hope was enough to make you want for something more. To believe that maybe, just maybe, your schoolgirl crush wasn’t such a lost cause after all. 

It was worth a shot, at least.

[hsrmtbrm]

QUADRANTS

feelings are complicated, especially when you're all used to being each others heads all the time. it was easier to communicate that way. now, things are all jumbled and nothing makes sense. you've got to make sense of it somehow, right?

Hal <> Equius (<3~)

Hal and Equius have already known each other intimately due to sharing a sprite together. They were happy as a sprite, very happy. They fit together like missing pieces of a puzzle piece. Getting along inside of a puppet wasn't so hard. Though they're still learning each others tells, they get along the easiest out of the four of them. Hal, who has memories of rather human emotions, strays a bit toward flush as well.

Caliborn <> Gamzee (<3<~)

Who better to shooshpap a raging clown than a red-themed grump? Who better to keep an angry green thing from killing people than someone who can lift him off the ground with ease? Gamzee speaks quieter than anyone but Caliborn can hear, and Caliborn's endless droning can drown out any ugly thoughts that Gamzee has. Besides. Caliborn might feel just a tad bit guilty that he technically had something to do with him ending up like this. Cherubs usually show affection through violence, anyway, right?

Equius <3< Gamzee (c3< Hal)

Even before being killed, this was brewing between them. Self explanatory, right? But not exactly stable, mostly due to left over resentment and mental health struggles. That's where Hal comes in. He has a significant amount of experience mediating between his friends, and is well aware that too much hate and resentment is not healthy for any relationship.

Equius <3 Gamzee (c3< Caliborn)

Though mostly one-sided at first, after a few too many instances of Gamzee being Just Too Pitiful for Equius' poor pusher to handle and some tender embraces (which they had to be strongarmed into by one strong-armed cherub), this blossomed into a surprisingly healthy vacillation! All in a days work for Caliborn.

Minor/Unofficial - Caliborn <3/<3< Hal - OH, YOu WHO SO RESEMBLES THE ONE WHO GOT ME MY STuPID LEG BACK. STOP BEING TENDER. OR ELSE. NO WAIT WHERE ARE YOu GOING I WAS KIDDING, HALCIFER. (mildly reciprocated) - Hal <> Gamzee - Even without knowing Gamzee's past, he can smell the substance abuse struggle on him from a mile away. Reminds him just a little too much of his childhood roleplay buddy. (unknown, so unreciprocated) - Equius <>/<3< Caliborn - Don't ask. Don't look at them. They don't know either. Their shared quadrantmate fell asleep on top of their laps while Hal was out one night and they had a long, long conversation.

[atomicc]

Hold on time to be an annoying (epic) fan ok listen

King Peppy isn't Evil. He's weird and misguided and does things he shouldn't but he's not outright malicious or evil. His way of ruling is a sort of "we don't talk about negatives and only focus on good things" which causes him to hide a lot of major shit and run from conflict because confronting it would inevitably make people sad. Which its ok to be sad and confront those feelings, that's the whole plot of the first movie, obviously. But you gotta look at it like this. Why would he rule like that? Maybe because his people were stuck in a very scary and negative situation they couldn't escape? It seems like the entire time he was king the pop trolls were trapped by the bergens and knew that inevitably they would all get eaten. And there really wasn't much they could do about it except work on an escape in secret which would take a lot of time. Makes sense for him to sort of only want to bring the moods of his people up instead of focusing on the horrible things happening to them, creating this sort of happy thoughts only community. Which worked at the time! It wasn't living, it was surviving. And now that he's out of that situation he hasn't adapted to their new lifestyle and hasn't taken time to actually confront his problems instead of just ignoring them. Maybe I'm reaching but idc it makes sense. Trolls is very much about characters having major issues due to circumstances and trauma and doing bad things because of them having to work through those issues and become better people. Sometimes trauma makes you do bad things in the name of survival. I don't think Peppy was being malicious by not talking about Viva, or any of the other lost trolls. Why would he do that out of malice, what would he have to gain? It was pretty much explicitly stated in the movie that it was out of avoidance. Again, not a good thing to do, but it wasn't to harm anyone around him. Viva and Peppy are both similar in that way, avoiding problems instead of confronting them, and honestly so was all of pop village until Branch showed that having negative feelings isn't the problem. I'm glad they are showing that Poppy is trying to get people to talk about those negative feelings in a healthy way instead of letting them consume you or just ignoring them.

Idk thinking about things this way is good. It's good to understand that sometimes mental health problems makes you do bad things without intending to. But it's also good to recognize when you're doing that and do something to prevent it from happening again. Be patient with people who are hurting but stand your ground. Idk something something about mental illness not always being cute and marketable. But also King Peppy only hid stuff from Poppy because the writers wanted a reason for there to be more stuff without people being like "errmm plot hole!"

[girlbooklover555]

"I just want to fit in... I want to feel like I'm here... it doesn't make much sense, I know"

request of @empty-void-of-dreams

Connor Stoll x fem!reader

warnings : Hi, I know this wasn't exactly what you asked for, but I had this idea and decided to do it. I hope you like it anyway.

PS: It's my first request, so remember of the possible bad the quality , I'm new to this.

mention of self-harm and anxiety or stress, mild anguish ? and insecurity, cute moment with connor, inspired by the song mirrorball by taylor swift

I'm using Google translator and maybe you consider connor ooc???

Connor knew something was wrong.

It wasn't your new hair, or your change of clothing style that didn't make any sense, because you always liked different style clothes than the ones you wear now, but you're still amazing.

The point that made his mind spin in thoughts was that you were acting different, different from who you were. The only sign of who you were was in the movement of your hands, which anxiously turned a ring.

Connor knew her body language down to every detail. Something was stressing you out, or you were making the same face you made when you had a test or something you had to do and felt like you couldn't do it.

How could one expression say so much information to him?

He didn't know, but he knew something was wrong.

Then Connor found himself leading you away from the campfire where the others were to talk.

"What is happening?" Connor's voice was serious, but still gentle.

“nothing,” you say, trying to sound calm.

"Really? Because your change in behavior gives me a different clue," he says as he takes your hand and takes the thin ring off your finger.

“Hey,” you say, trying to retrieve your ring, as Connor just takes the ring and puts it in the pocket of his shorts, then he firmly but carefully holds the hand you raised to try and grab the ring from his hand.

"You're doing it again," Connor says, serious and worried, a combination that wasn't very common together.

You look at your hand, seeing that the thin ring has hurt his skin after anxiously turning it several times.

“Sorry,” you say automatically.

“Apologize to your hand,” Connor says as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear without letting go of your hand.

"So what's going on?" Connor asks, curious and worried.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, distressed.

"You're not being yourself," he says calmly, "you're not being natural," he added.

"I guess I was never natural", you say, sighing.

"I don't think so, but now you seem to be trying hard not to be you," Connor says as he looks at his injured hand. “That kind of effort isn’t healthy,” I whisper.

"Why are you doing this, anyway?" You sigh tiredly and approach him, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him.

“I don’t know, Connor,” you whisper. "I just want to fit in... I want to feel like I'm here... it doesn't make much sense, I know," you added, laughing sadly, and snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, feeling comfortable.

Connor hugged your waist affectionately and opened his mouth to speak, but decided to kiss your forehead, noticing your relaxed body and letting you have the comfortable silence that seemed to calm you down.

So he would stay in that hug no matter how long you needed him.

After all, sometimes you just wanted to be heard without having to speak, and Connor knew how to communicate with his silence.

[angie-long-legs]

//Long post alert! A little look into the mun's feelings since joining this lovely community of writers and hazbin enthusiasts! Discussions of trauma, mental health and bereavement but nothing explicit, and overall, the tone of this post is positive!

I started to rp as Angel back in March of this year, and it's honestly been such a wonderful experience. I've met so many lovely people and written brilliant stories with brilliant writers and it's been such a joy to meet you all.

I didn't have a great start to my year. I'll be completely honest, I don't entirely remember what triggered the little blip in my mental health just after Christmas (part of my mental health issues include memory problems), but from working with my therapist, we think that I was pushing a bit too hard with stuff I wasn't ready to process.

I have always been a writer. Since I was 14 I've kept a journal, I've filled notebook after notebook and it's something I've never fully stepped back from. I need to write, it's the way I process things, and it always has been. I've rped as a teenager, written fanfiction, written my own stories and poetry, and these days I focus mostly on writing music. However, I never let go of journaling. I struggle to communicate my feelings, so writing has always been my outlet.

It's also how I process trauma. And, until recently, I was working a lot with my therapist by bringing my notebook into appointments and basically processing what I'd written with him there to support me and help me untangle things that don't make sense.

Close to Christmas, I was doing some very heavy and intense writing. I pushed too hard against walls that were not steady and I collapsed. I wasn't coping well, I wasn't sleeping, I reached out for help but mental health services in this country are dire, and I wound up in a situation that hasn't been my reality in years.

Honestly, that time period still doesn't feel real to me. Which is often how bad things feel - it's part of how my brain copes.

After that, I stopped writing in my notebook. It was too much and I was scared of pushing my limits and losing control. I was pulling back in therapy, I wasn't bringing in my writing anymore.

To top it off, I lost a family member a few months later. It was foreseen and it was peaceful, but it was still painful.

I started watching Hazbin pretty soon after it came out and got absolutely swept up in Angel Dust's character. There are few characters I've felt as strongly connected to or related to as heavily him, and his story is incredibly meaningful to me. During this time period where I was too emotionally vulnerable to approach my own painful experiences, there was a cathartic release in seeing the same experiences played out in a fictional (albeit intentionally realistic) scenario that I was capable of processing.

I was pretty quick to start rping as Angel once I'd watched the show. This porn spider was begging me to write him, and I needed to write - I just needed to write in a way that didn't overwhelm me.

And it's been so incredibly beneficial for me. Not only in that it allows me to explore some of my own feelings and traumas in a safe, controlled way, but I've made such amazing friends and written in new ways I wouldn't have previously tried my hand at. I've written plots that are so silly and ridiculous, I've written darker themes, I've written comedy, angst, fluff, smut and I've adored all of it. More than just an outlet, it's a creative hobby that keeps me thinking about things I genuinely enjoy and makes me happy and has lead me to finding people that I feel lucky to have encountered in this community.

In the past month and a bit, I started telling my therapist that I've been writing on here. He pointed out the fact that I stopped writing in my notebook and started writing on here around the same time, and that it might be easier for me to write as a character than actually write as myself for the time being, and that this was a healthy way of going about it. Because I'm still writing - I'm just doing it in a way that isn't going to hurt me.

It's a very standard way of coping for me as well. I have a dissociative disorder, it's not exactly beyond the realms of belief that when coping with a difficult situation, I recede into "it's not happening to me, it's happening to them". I'm incredibly aware of this.

But, overall, I'm just glad I've found a way to cope that's so engaging and so creative. I feel like I'm learning more every time I write and pushing myself to better, and it's amazing to do something with my own ideas, spin them into something real rather than let them fester away in my brain. I'm so grateful for this community of fandom nerds and I'm so lucky to have found something so wonderful to fuel my imagination and gently nudge me in the direction of healing. I love all my friends and my mutuals, and even if we haven't interacted you can bet I'm looking at you and frothing at the mouth waiting for us to write together. I feel so full of appreciation every time I come on here that people even want to write with my silly little portrayal.

Thank you for making this such a rewarding experience for me. I love you all 🩷

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

I think that also, everyone kinda get that Vaggie isn't merely born out of wedlock, but from Lute and someone who was married.

After all, while marriage is important, I don't think people would go so far just for Vaggie being born from a non married couple.

And while the Guerrera are prestigious, the ties to authoritarian groups are not something most people like, though Agatha definitely used her wealth for charity and the likes to be accepted in the community when she arrived there.

However, even if Agatha didn't revealed who was the father of her granddaughter, she still revealed that he was a married man, and Lute refusing to put the name on official documents clearly indicated it was shameful, honestly it's probably part of why Adam isn't really assumed to be the father, because his marriage was pretty much dead and he's quite respected, so if his name had been shown and Vaggie had taken the name Eden, it would have been a bit messy, but even if Adam and Lute hadn't been together, there would have been an understanding, since the father would have been a well known man of the community, and everyone who knows Adam is aware of the mess and that Lute wasn't needed for the marriage to fell apart.

But it wasn't put, and well, the biological father being the Godfather just isn't something people think would happen, so Adam becoming Vaggie's godfather made the situation go from the likely : "Adam is very close to Lucia and handsome, he's probably the father, beside, Agatha is very old fashioned, obviously she wouldn't get that there's a difference between a healthy marriage and the mess between him and Eve" to something like "Lucia screwed up so much Adam had to become her daughter's godfather, apparently she's a homewrecker, it make sense, she didn't even put the guy's name on the paper, and sure, Agatha is old fashioned, but she adore her daughter, why would she break ties and then go around saying stuff like that on her if it wasn't the truth?".

So this Vaggie probably genuinely doesn't consider it possible that Adam is her biological father because, like everyone else, she find the idea of her godfather being her father ludicrous.

Yeah, while she would still suffer from some bullying from other children and judgement from adults (and people in general as she got older) just for being born out of wedlock, the real issue is the fact that pretty much everyone knows that Lucia (as many people continue to call Lute, even though after being disowned by her mother, she has most people just call her "Lute" instead) slept with a married man, even if they don't know who.

No matter what, there still would have been whispers about the whole thing even if Lute had named Adam as Vaggie's father, but for the most part they would have died down by the time Vaggie was old enough to fully understand that it was considered "strange" that she didn't have a father when most other kids she knew did - and those who didn't were different from her because they used to have fathers and they died, while she apparently just was born without one.

But most people knew Adam and Eve had been having issues with their marriage for years even before they officially stopped living together, so if they knew Adam was Vaggie's father, sure there would be some comments about how Lute still should have waited until he was officially divorced to actually sleep with him (and how it would have been better if she'd waited to marry him herself), but it wouldn't have been anything like the fallout of what actually happened. Where because of how secretative Lute was about who fathered her child, many just believed Agatha's story - which was basically simply that her daughter slept with a married man and was a homewrecker as a result. Which made a lot of people just assume that Lute seduced someone in town, or in a nearby town, into sleeping with her, and then tried to cover her tracks and make herself look marginally better by trying to avoid giving Vaggie an official father.

And, yeah, the fact that she names Adam as Vaggie's godfather didn't help, for the reasons you brought up. Why would Lute name her daughter's secret father as the godfather? It made no sense, so nobody considered the idea, not even Vaggie herself, despite knowing her mom and Adam really liked each other from an early age.

[pallastrology]

planets in intercepted signs

sun: when the sun is intercepted, the native struggles to express themselves. too much, too much, they heard - or felt - as a child. they learned to reel themselves in, never say, or show, or do too much. and as an adult, it's a natural reaction. they shrink away from any kind of limelight, and they don't express their opinions much. they are almost muted, or dampened down.

moon: when the moon is intercepted, the native struggles to express their emotions. they can bottle things up, disconnect from themselves, and suffer from somatic illness and emotional outbursts. they can find it hard to really understand their emotions too, where they come from and how to help soothe themselves. they struggle to connect with their nurturing side, and find self-care to be a difficult task.

mercury: when mercury is intercepted, the native struggles to express their thoughts. they can be shy or socially anxious, and may find their thoughts chaotic and uncollected. some will have issues focusing and prioritising, and though generally very intelligent and reflective, these natives often struggle to communicate their inner goings on, stumbling over their words or being quite verbally clumsy and being easily misunderstood.

venus: when venus is intercepted, the native struggles to express pleasure and beauty. they tend to be self-conscious, often feeling inferior to their peers. they can struggle with body image issues, craving external validation to feel ‘good enough’. this desire for validation extends to their hobbies and interests too; they can be codependent and struggle to see their own beauty, or allow themselves to enjoy life.

mars: when mars is intercepted, the native struggles to express drive. they can come across as complacent or lazy, and are prone to fits of deep depression and helplessness. they can’t easily access their ‘get up and go’ and lack the confidence to take steps towards what they want in life. they can become cynical when isolated, because with no healthy outlet, their energy stagnates.

jupiter: when jupiter is intercepted, the native struggles to express growth. they stifle themselves in some ways, especially in their younger years, and they often try to blend in with their peers, dampening themselves down to do so. it takes time for these natives to get to know themselves, and their path through life can sometimes feel quite confusing or disjointed until they do.

saturn: when saturn is intercepted, the native struggles to express discipline. their younger years are often plagued with a vicious cycle of procrastination and pressuring themselves to complete their projects on time. this leads to intense emotions, a sense that the work wasn't really up to standard, and a subsequent punishment of themselves, which really never 'works' as intended, because the cycle continues. wisdom is a skill that develops over time for our natives.

uranus: when uranus is intercepted, the native struggles to express their ideas. they can be buzzing with ideas and plans, but at the crucial point of communication, their mind goes blank and nerves take over. this is a very frustrating experience, especially with how full their brain gets once they're back in their comfort zone. they can also feel quite alienated from their peers because they just can't seem to express themselves accurately to how they feel and how they see the world.

neptune: when neptune is intercepted, the native struggles to express their selflessness. prone to depression, neptune intercepted can feel like a bystander in life, like it's something that happens to them, rather than something they are an active part of. they often feel lost and confused about how to put themselves out there. they are very kind individuals with a lot of love and care to give, but are easily misled and in fact, can easily mislead themselves too.

pluto: when pluto is intercepted, the native struggles to express their power. they are often quite fearful individuals, and this fear can rule them if they don't learn to own it. they become frightened of fear itself, and, like neptune intercepted, they are prone to feeling life is something that happens to them, rather than something they actively participate in. pluto intercepted can feel disempowered and trapped easily, and need to work hard to remind themselves of their personal power.

[thenightfolknetwork]

okay, I'm a nurse and we see strange things okay?

well, night shift and this woman arrives in labor with her husband, goes to the delivery room and three hours later we have this beautiful baby boy. screaming at the top of his lungs, flushed and healthy, weighing 3 kilos. The mother was a little groggy so we left him in the nursery for a moment, and when I handed the little thing to her, she freaked out saying that wasn't her baby!

After a long inspection we found that he was indeed made of twigs. She said she wanted hers back, but our hospital doesn't take responsibility for changelings and honestly, being a changeling myself (not the stick type, I'm the sick fairy baby type, my parents thought I was autistic for years before realizing I just had regular fair folk behavior) I found her attitude extremely frustrating.

Damn! she came to have a baby and she's leaving with a baby! Some could say it's even the same baby, I didn't see any difference. and it's not like they've known each other that long, hmm? the woman said she will not take the boy home. her husband got into a fight with the security guard. what do I do? Will they sue me???

Fortunately, reader, I don't think you're at any risk of legal action. At least, not you, directly. The parents might choose to take legal action against the hospital at which you work, but even then, their case is fairly thin.

There is some difficulty in explaining the details of the legal situation here. This is mainly because it relates to certain treaties and allegiances held between the British government and various other nations, commonwealths and domains, about which it can be very difficult to speak clearly.

And I mean that quite literally. Even as I write this, I can feel a sense of resistance from the very keys of my computer.

Not to trade in stereotypes, but members of those communities which practice infant substitution have historically tended to take up careers in law and politics, and often with great success. As such, they enjoy some of the most robust legal protections of any liminal group in the United Kingdom.

Infant substitution is an important cultural practice for these groups, and is fiercely protected. In short, I don't think you have much to worry about on the legal front.

Emotionally, I understand how seeing these parents reactions to their new child could be upsetting, especially given your own personal background. Unfortunately, many sapios still cling onto very outdated ideas around parenthood and family, and struggle to see a changeling child as their own.

I'm afraid there's not much you can do for this particular family. Instead, you might concentrate your efforts on broader liminal outreach work – volunteering at a cross-community event, for example, or donating to your favourite creature charity.

There is a chance these parents will come around, and accept the child as their own. If not, I am rather inclined to think he is better off without them. With any luck, he will find his way to a family who can accept him for the precious gift he is.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]