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lady-of-the-english · 4 months

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Tommy and Grace and Marriage Part 3

To echo back to ideas I started in part 1, Tommy at his core is a romantic with Grace, with a healthy view of what their relationship should be like. Tommy desires a true partnership with Grace - he promises her he'll help her with everything as she'll help him (it's one of the only health sentiments we've heard from him that I can remember).

He is willing and able to strip himself bare, physically and emotionally, with Grace. And with that, she is his strength. It takes strength and courage to put yourself out there, to trust another person, to be open and honest with them about your feelings and your dreams of the future together. Tommy knows and understands this: he is extremely picky in deciding when and with whom he shares the true depth of himself.

In 2x01, Polly, Ada, and Lizzie all prod Tommy for that openness and vulnerability to no avail. He chooses stoicism, maintaining his mask of emotionless as much as he can - like when discussing business at one of his oldest friends and brother-in-law's Freddy's funeral.

In the same episode, Campbell, as an antagonist, identifies Grace as Tommy's weakness. However, we are meant to disagree as Campbell is intentionally used as Tommy's foil to consider the ethics of both their careers and in their romantic connection to Grace.

The first of the trio to explicitly mention marriage and that potential future for Grace and Tommy is Campbell in his own failed proposal - a proposal that heavily centers around Tommy.

In 1x05, Tommy realizes that the guns have "become a burden" and agrees to sell them to the IRA in a trap, collaborating with Campbell.

In realizing that the IRA are planning to kill him once they get the location of the guns, and thus possibly before the "sixth chime" to midnight, which is the police's signal, Tommy turns to Grace - partly because "barmaids don't count" when told to be alone, but also because Tommy genuinely trusts her with his life.

We see Tommy's fear explicitly. He comes into the Garrison panting, shaking a little. Grace immediately understands that there is going to be "trouble" just seeing him. He's willing and able to show his true feelings with Grace. He trusts her to both help him handle this situation and to not think less of him demonstrating these unmasculine feelings (as Moss will deride Tommy for being ladylike due to his discomfort with the dead bodies in his bar at the end of the scene).

We see Tommy's frustration and fear that he needs to pull Grace into this side of the business. He tells her that when the IRA men get there, "they plan to kill me. It's your job to stop that happening." And he minimizes what she has to do: "You don't shoot. You just point," reassuring her that neither will have to kill anyone as the "police want them alive" and will be in soon to deal with the situation fully - a statement that surprises Grace. If the police are to help him, she assumes that she would be informed, and thus, her own disquiet truly develops.

Grace doesn't object at all to the idea of protecting him, only a bit in disbelief that "you could have given me more warning" to which Tommy reveals his full frustration and fear that "he just got the message himself" and thus wouldn't involve her in a danger situation unless he absolutely had to.

He sends her off to hide until the signal with his voice rasing and getting faster in his panic as he repeats to Grace, "All right, go. Go on. Go!"

Grace, hidden but peaking around the door, watching and listening for Tommy's signal, can hear clearly their threats as they they condensingly ask Tommy, "Did you think was let you live? Make your peace, Mr. Shelby," to which Grace comes out guns blazing.

I think her motivation is three-fold: since we met Grace, her primary goal has been to ensure these guns don't fall into the IRAs' hands. Even when Campbell points out at the beginning of the season that there are other players of concern, such as the Peaky Blinder, she maintains her focus on the IRA in her fear, hatred, and grief over her father's death. So, the mission itself, as an agent of the crown intertwined with revenge, greatly motivates her.

But, I think her feelings for Tommy are just as inspiring. If her grief of her father dying at the hands of this organization is still haunting to this degree, I imagine it must have been terrifying to hear another person she cares about possibly being taken from her in the same way. Feelings of revenge tend to be wrapped up in guilt of not being able to save that person. If she couldn't save her father, she'd make sure they couldn't do this to anyone else again - especially her again, which is a position I don't think she ever imagined being in.

Grace shoots multiple times, planning to kill both men so that Tommy would never be in real danger for a moment. Instead, her revenge helps pull him into the danger she so hoped to avoid. As Tommy begins to fight back, she's trying to get in there to shoot again, but she is knocked down and stays down until Tommy kills the second IRA man by bashing his face in.

Tommy immediately goes to Grace, and while she initially flinches from the violence, she let's him come to her, help her off the floor. She leans into Tommy's gentle caress of her face as Tommy tries to reassure himself that she is okay. Grace doesn't try to get away when he holds her head and asks her, "why did you shoot, Grace?". She replies in shock and disbelief, "I didn't know I had it in me like that."

Tommy, is likewise full of regret, afraid that he has driven her off as "now you've seen me."

But Grace's fear and criticism is only for herself as she responds, "and now you've seen me. I'm sorry." Instead of moving away from him, she draws closer, hugging him. Tommy is initially in disbelief, thinking he'd driven her off forever and surprised that she's the one sorry (I just can't imagine Tommy's been on the receiving end of many - any - apologies). But, he quickly unfreezes and sinks into her comforting embrace as he closes his eyes to bask in her presence and love.

This is Grace's breaking point as she tells Campbell the following morning. When Moss and the other cops come into the Garrison, they aren't sorry for purposefully going back on their deal with Tommy, that the IRA men are dead, and that Grace and Tommy could have died. Tommy, with tears in his eyes, holding himself up by leaning against the bar, respectfully state that "they fought well. They were brave men." Moss, gets in Tommy's face and and degrades him that they look like he was "killed by a wild fucking animal" and asks, "who cares?" about the bodies that he states were never never. As they leave, Grace looks at Tommy, whose eyes are closed, trying to stop the tears, and she can see fully who the real "bad" men are.

After walking her safely home, Tommy reiterates Grace's apology, telling her, "I'm sorry." We don't see Tommy often providing apologies either, but he is willing to give Grace what she offers him - everything.

In truly seeing both Tommy and the police force, Grace meets with Campbell to offer up the guns and her resignation. Previous scenes had shown Grace's discomfort with Campbell's degrading rhetoric about Tommy, but she typically ignored it and didn't argue back.

But now everything is different. At the meeting with Campbell, he strokes the same cheek Tommy caressed the night before, but this time, Grace flinches away.

Campbell offers a non-apology placing the blame on Tommy for the danger she was in: "I had no idea that he would involve you in this ugly business. If I had, I never would have let this happen," showing only his concern for her life in the situation. Grace looks away disgusted and argues back for truly the first time: "he trusts me. I told you that. You didn't believe me," showing the sharp contrast between Tommy and Campbell.

When he challenges her that Moss reported that they were "embracing," she scoffs is disbelief: "Is that your primary concern?". He tries to justify that his "concern" is for "her welfare," but Grace shakes her head no and takes full responsibility, telling him, "it was me who killed them" - both of them, as Tommy only finishes what she started and thus, she covers for him, not willing for him to face the consequences of her actions.

Campbell tries to blame that on Tommy's influence too, but Grace won't let him and makes clear that "something inside me changed" through seeing both Tommy and the police force clearly. She asserts that she and the police were the real "beasts" last night, not Tommy.

Grace claims that she no longer feels the need to "avenge" her father as she understands that it almost costs her Tommy's life. She asserts that the "hatred that I brought here with me is gone" in contrast to the depth of hatred Campbell feels. She reminds him that the mission was always about the guns, not The Peaky Blinders, and with that, negotiates a deal with him. She demands that "I want your word that Thomas Shelby will not be harmed if the guns are recovered. Your word as a gentleman." This great act of betrayal is in service of Tommy's life as both possessing the guns and trying to sell the guns have proven to have the same deadly consequences for him.

Campbell doesn't immediately agree as it is not something he wants to give; we've seen from the beginning how petty and personal he makes the "mission." He is incredulous that she has "sympathy" and "sentiment" for Tommy and tells her she's "too good-hearted for this work." He deems Tommy her weaknesses, just as he'll deem Grace Tommy's.

Realizing that he'll only agree if there is something in it for him, Grace capitulates on their own history: "So, for my sake, will you spare him?," finally getting his "word."

When she meets him at the grave the following morning, Campbell hugs Grace, which she doesn't reciprocate, and proposes the moment she resigned, ready and in wait to strike with a ring in his hand the second she's no longer his "subordinate." Campbell tells Grace what she once thought but no longer believes: "I'm a good man, and my admiration of you has turned to love." Seeing her shocked and disbelieving face, he tells Grace, " I don't ask for love in return. Just recognition that we are liked minds with shared values."

It is a proposal that is in complete odds with Tommy's declarations. Campbell formalities juxtaposed with Tommy's giddiness and boyish teasing in the following scenes. While both consider how they are the same with "liked minds," Campbell's viewpoint is based on the old version of Grace, who hasn't witnessed the police threaten women and children and provide empty promises, Tommy is confident in his assertion that they've "found each other" because Grace has told him so explicitly that he's truly "seen her" as she's seen him, and neither wants to look away.

Grace understands whose reactions to fear when giving bad news - who the real threat to her life is. Grace slowly and hesitantly goes to grap Campbell's hand (as the first and last time she voluntarily touches him) and formally addresses him as "Mr. Campbell," while trying to let a violent man down gently by lying and telling him, "you deserve better."

It's a lie he easily sees through, showing Grace his true colors once again. He immediately gets aggressive, stepping towards Grace, screaming in her face, "Is it the beast that dug this grave? Is it him between us?". This is in sharp contrast to the gangster that she actually betrayed, but who never showed her any anger or made any threats. Tommy wishes her well and his continued love when parting at the end of the season, while Cambpell tries to murder her.

Campbell's bullet wound from Grace is a physical reminder of Grace for Campbell, Tommy, and the audience. While she is not there, no one has forgotten her, and every visual and auditory cue of Campbell's cane echos her presence in these men's thoughts.

In 2x01, Churchill challenges Campbell's choice in using Tommy in spite of their history. Campbell assures him that this is why he is the best choice as to apply pressure, you need to know a man's weakness and I "know his weaknesses intimately" - a direct reference to Grace as he once spied on Tommy and Grace dancing in her apartment intimiately. Thus, the audience is reminded that Campbell's intertwining his personal petty grievances with his work have helped Tommy before. In 1x05, Campbell calls off the police raid when he learns that Tommy's gone off with Grace. Moss questions the choice, too, as it's not the smart, logical choice, and thus one that helped save his life. He chooses his pride over the job then.

While Campbell's goal is to use Tommy and then dispose of him once and for all, because of his resentment over Grace choosing Tommy, Campbell will save Tommy's life once again as they interrupt Sabini's attack on him at the end of the episode. And with that, we see once again that Grace isn't Tommy's weakness. When Campbell comes to the hospital to threaten and blackmail him, Tommy is the first person to mention Grace's name. While Tommy is senestive about Grace, he can and will bring her up when he wants to. And he calls on her memory to help him through this situation. Just as Campbell assumes that she is Tommy's weakness, Tommy knows that she is Campbell.

Tommy assumes correctly that Campbell is just as hung up over Grace as he is. He can't imagine someone being able to get over her, as he sure hasn't, and he uses the memory of her to disrupt Campbell's own control and strategy over the situation. With a pointed causualness, Tommy provides details of Grace's life, letting us know that he has kept tabs on her, wanting to stay connected to her even as they are ocean's apart. He relates that she's in New York and knows even more specifically that she's living in a "place call Poughkeepsie" and most importantly that she's "married now." In knowing how much that devastates him, he assumes that it will have a similar impact on Campbell.

Just as Tommy hasn't moved on, Campbell similarly shares Grace's personal details attacking Tommy's insecurities, letting him know he also knows that she's married, "to a banker. He's rich. I'm sure she's very happy," as he pokes at what Tommy wanted to provide Grace himself - economic security, but most of all, happiness.

While Campbell's information could come from Grace's family and abuse of his position, Tommy's obviously comes from Grace herself as we are told by Lizzie that a letter from "Poughkeepsie" arrived for him at his new offices in Digbeth. Both of them have ensured that they other has their new addresses keeping in touch. Obviously, the letter that season 1 ends on and season 2 opens with is not the last contact they've had in the last two years. We can see how much Tommy hasn't moved on; even though she's married now, he is still keeping communication open between them.

Campbell's remark is one that hurts, and thus, Tommy pivots to the physical discomfort Grace imparted - which visually symbolizes her presence for the rest of the reason.

Tommy says, "I imagine being shot by a woman hurts the same as being shot by a man. Just a bit more shameful." He emphasizes how while Grace has left them both, she only wanted to leave one of them behind and that the person she truly hurt purposefully isn't Tommy. In the end, she picked Tommy over everything else: her job, her family's expectations and status, her grief and plots of revenge, and her previous convictions about law, honor, and moralty.

Tommy declares that "every time you lean on that stick, I bet you see her face," as Tommy himself does. He is so sure that her memory haunts Campbell, willing to "bet" when he is someone who typically fixes bets in his favor. Tommy sees and remembers Grace everywhere. So, in his view, why would Campbell be any different.

Therefore, we see the door of the future Tommy imagined for them still open. Even if she's married, Grace is still the person he longs for every day; even him burning her letters isn't enough to truly burn the bridge between them - but more on that next time.

#tommy x grace #tommy shelby #grace shelby #grace burgess #peaky blinders

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mycochaotix · 6 months

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r/mushroom user asks: “why TF are these guys purple?”

Cortinarius sp.?

MCX Answers:

Great question!

IMO: The color of mushroom fruit bodies, especially in terms of their penetration colors (color changes upon bruising or cutting), is influenced by the presence of certain chemical compounds. The primary compounds responsible for these color changes are secondary metabolites, such as polyphenols and enzymes.

When a mushroom is injured or bruised, these compounds come into contact with oxygen, leading to oxidation reactions. This oxidation can result in the formation of new pigments and changes in color. For example:

1. ⁠Tyrosinase Enzyme: Mushrooms often contain the enzyme tyrosinase, which plays a role in the production of melanin. When the mushroom tissue is damaged, tyrosinase reacts with compounds like tyrosine to form melanin, leading to darkening or browning.

2. ⁠Polyphenols: Certain mushrooms contain polyphenolic compounds that can undergo enzymatic reactions, causing color changes upon exposure to air. This process is often seen in the browning of mushroom flesh.

3. ⁠Other Compounds: Specific mushroom species may contain unique compounds that contribute to distinct colors upon bruising or cutting.

The specific colors observed can vary among mushroom species due to differences in their biochemical composition. Factors such as genetics, environmental conditions, and the age of the mushroom can also influence the color changes.

Further… biological adaptation!

The pigmentation of mushroom fruit bodies can have evolutionary significance, although the specific adaptive reasons for coloration can vary among different mushroom species. Some evolutionary considerations for pigmentation in mushrooms:

1. ⁠Camouflage and Mimicry: Some mushrooms may have evolved to blend in with their surroundings, providing them with a degree of camouflage. This adaptation could help protect them from herbivores or increase their chances of successful spore dispersal.

2. ⁠Warning Colors: In contrast, certain brightly colored mushrooms may serve as warning signals to deter potential herbivores. This is often seen in toxic or poisonous mushrooms that have evolved to display vivid colors as a way of indicating their unpalatability.

3. ⁠Attraction of Dispersal Agents: The colors of mushrooms can also play a role in attracting specific dispersal agents, such as insects or animals. Some mushrooms have evolved to produce pigments that attract these agents, aiding in spore dispersal.

4. ⁠Environmental Adaptations: Mushroom pigmentation may be influenced by environmental factors, including light exposure. The color of a mushroom might be adapted to enhance its ability to thrive in a particular habitat or microenvironment.

5. ⁠UV Protection: Pigments can act as a form of protection against ultraviolet (UV) radiation. Some mushrooms produce pigments that may help shield them from the potentially harmful effects of UV light.

It's important to note that the evolutionary reasons for mushroom pigmentation can be complex and multifaceted, and they may vary greatly among different species.

#mycology #magic mushies #microbiology #mold #60s psychedelia #lgbtqia #lgbtqia2s #lgbtqia2s+#myc #enby #fungi #fungus #enzymes #biology #science #queer #trans #non binary #mushroom #cortinarius

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archive-of-artprompts · 2 months

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🤠 Giddy up! Send in a number+character and i'll write/draw them as that Wild West character trope! 🤠

(Tropes from tv tropes📺 pt1🤠 -- pt2🤠)

1.Bartender - Tends the bar, pours the drinks, and occasionally has valuable advice if you ask.

2. Blacksmith - Someone who shapes tools, weapons and other items out of iron and steel.

3. Bounty Hunter - They capture criminals and bring them back to face trial, or to fill a grave.

4. Camp Cook - called "Cookie", the one responsible for feeding the ranch workers. A classic "bit" for the camp cook is ringing a metal triangle to announce that dinner is ready.

5. City Slicker - They're new to The Wild West, who is flashily dressed in big-city fashions, thinks rural folks are idiots, and isn’t used to manual labor.

6. Clerk - An old-fashioned clerical worker, especially in the fields of bookkeeping and correspondence.

7. Clueless Deputy - Sheriffs often have deputies to assist them. This character is often comedically clueless.

8. Corrupt Sheriff - An Obstructive Bureaucrat to Small-Town Tyrant, using their position and power for their own personal gain.

9. Cowboy - Has a job herding cattle and spends the majority of their time doing that job. Tend to have more worn clothing and scruffier appearances.

10. Cowgirl - a Plucky Girl in Western garb, who can ride and shoot as well as any cowboy.

11. Drifter Cowboy - Similar to the Cowboy, but wanders semi-nomadically between ranches. May be distrusted and remain at a distance from others.

12. Forty-Niner Prospector - A participant in the California Gold Rush of 1848-1855, seeking their fortune by mining for valuable metals.

13. Frontier Doctor - A physician who works in a remote town. Needed to be tough and resourceful, since supplies were scarce, and the latest equipment and medicines were seldom at hand.

14. Gunslinger - Nobody can draw and fire a gun faster than this guy.

15. Highwayman - aka “road agents”, is a guy who robs rich people traveling in carriages on old-fashioned roads.

16. Hooker With A Heart Of Gold - Any sex worker (prostitute, stripper, adult film actor, etc.) who has some baseline goodness, under that promiscuous exterior lies kindness and a good nature.

17. Hunter Trapper - Makes their living by hunting down animals for their meat and fur. Has excellent survival and woodcraft skills.

18. Lone Cowboy/Ranch Owner - A fellow who is running his own ranch often by himself on a tight budget.

19. Man With No Name - A drifter with a mysterious past and a stoic and aloof demeanor that makes them hard to read.

20. Meek Townsman - An inhabitant of an Adventure Town who isn't too keen on that "adventure" bit. Might be appointed as The Sheriff to deal with impending danger.

21. Miss Kitty - An older woman who runs a brothel. Charismatic when necessary with no tolerance for rowdiness in her establishment. Protects her girls.

22. Most Wanted - Guilty or Innocent, this character is hunted exhaustively by the police, the mob, everyone – wanted dead or alive.

23. Mountain Man - Makes his living in the wilderness of Canada or the northern US, most often as a trapper or hunter.

24. Outlaw - A fugitive from justice fleeing into the wilderness.

25. Preacher - Spiritual leader for the believers in a small community. Usually dressed semi-formally in a black broadcloth suit, and may sport a clerical collar, depending on denomination.

26. Professional Gambler - Someone whose primary source of income is gambling.

27. Railroad Brakeman - Notably remembered for having to walk along the top of the cars and stopping the train by manually turning the braking wheels.

28. Railroad Conductor - The manager of a train and its crew, responsible for all areas of the train other than the engine: making sure the freight is secure, the train is cleared to move, signals when to start/stop the train. On passenger trains, the conductor also announces the route of the train, gives the "all aboard" and collects the passengers' tickets.

29. Railroad Engineer - Responsible for the maintenance of the engine, controls its speed, and requires an intimate knowledge of the route and its peculiarities. Railroad engineers are often portrayed as heroic in fiction, thanks in no small part to many railroad engineers in real life who sacrificed themselves to avoid a massive disaster.

30. Railroad Fireman - aka a stoker, responsible for keeping the engine fire going properly and regulating the boiler. A sort of co-pilot of the train, assisting the engineer and observing what's going on outside the train on the opposite side.

31. Rancher - The owner of a ranch, a spread of land where animals are raised: usually cattle, but sheep and chicken too.

32. Ram Ranch Cowboy - A Gay Cowboy, typically very masculine, and likely to exhibit many traits associated with machoism and/or sexuality.

33. Retired Gunfighter - This fellow used to be The Gunslinger, but has decided to settle down and hang up his guns, either due to age or family.

34. Rodeo Rider - A working cowboy in the off-season, showing off his riding and roping skills at rodeos. Tends to be more boastful and concerned with winning trophies than other cowboys.

35. Rustler - The Evil Counterpart of the Cowboy who uses the same skill set—riding, roping, and herding—to steal large numbers of cattle and horses.

36. Saloon Owner - The one who makes sure the taps keep a-flowing, the dancers dancing, and the wenches wenching. They often keep tabs on anyone and everyone who comes to the pub.

37. Sheriff - A Reasonable Authority Figure and or Hero, wearing a distinct, star-shaped badge. The position usually comes with great danger and responsibility.

38. Schoolmarm - Teacher of a one-room schoolhouse with a class of students of all ages. Tends to be portrayed as rather prim and proper, and will have the best diction in town

39. Signalman - They regulated the movement of trains, by moving levers to operate points and signals in a signalbox that was alongside the tracks, so the trains wouldn't crash into each other.

40. Singing Cowboy - A cowboy who sings as his primary avocation.

41. Snake Oil Salesman - A Con Man who makes their living by selling products which could not possibly work as advertised. The classic version sells literal snake oil (a product with 'medicinal' properties and exotic, unknown ingredients).

42. Southern Belle - An upper class rich girl from the Deep South, usually wears a Pimped-Out Dress, carries a parasol, and speaks in the most profound southern accent. May be subject to fainting or saying, "Well, I do declare!”

43. Southern Gentleman - A well-dressed, well-spoken (even when swearing up a blue streak), charmin', suave and invariably polite man. Associated with wearing a white suit of light material (especially in summer), corncob pipe that nevertheless manages to look dignified, and mint julep.

44. Undertaker - Is fairly nondescript with a somber air, aside from that morbid cheerfulness and focus with which they go about their death-oriented business.

45. Young Gun - a younger, hot-headed, and impetuous version of The Gunslinger, looking to make a name for themselves.

#art prompt #art challenge #art meme #words prompts #writing prompt #numbers prompt

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thehumanpuffball · 4 months

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Myth is Man (1)

Throughout history, humans have always loved stories. They, in some cases, form intrinsic parts of how we teach about our norms and values. A rather famous example would be the moral tale of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” a very apt name in my opinion. Anyone who went to a British primary school most likely knows this one off by heart, but I do not know about other countries so here is a shortened version of it:

A shepherd boy tends to the flocks of sheep on the side of the hill at night. He works when all of the shepherds have gone to bed and his job is to protect the flock from the wolves that would otherwise eat the sheep. If he sees a wolf coming to eat the sheep, he must cry out at the top of his lungs “WOLF!” and the townspeople would come running up the hill to scare it away. One night, the boy gets bored, and he thinks that it would be a good idea to shout to the town that there is a wolf. Of course, all those who could, come running up the hill to protect the sheep which will feed them in the winter, but alas, the wolf is not there. Another night comes and the boy does the same, the wolf is still not there, and the townspeople all get angry as they have been called out of bed repeatedly in order to scare away a wolf which doesn’t exist. On the third night, there is a wolf, and the boy cries out to tell them, in hopes that they will run up the hill to save the flock. Nobody comes. He tries again but it is all in vain. Nobody is coming.

The next morning, the shepherd comes back to the hillside, and he says to the boy “Where are the sheep?”, for they had all been taken by the foxes. The boy replies with “I called for the townspeople, but nobody came.

This story is told often to primary school children because it highlights the importance of not lying as when the boy in the tale lies people stop believing him and when he needs help, he does not receive it.

There are so many of these stories and they are told in assemblies everywhere. They are such an important part of our lives growing up as the characters going through these very obvious and tangible events can be used in order to teach children about morals and about right and wrong more effectively than a list of rules can. Writing and storytelling is one of the oldest human artforms, our brains love a good story, once they kept us together around campfires, and now they keep us together in book clubs and at Halloween when we tell ghost stories with our friends in the dark. Fandom is also a form of this, a group of people brought together by the pure joy of loving a piece of media and wanting to talk about it.

Furthermore, it is crucial that we celebrate all writers, because not only can we find joy, peace, and delight in fiction, but we can also understand some of the more awful things in the world a little better using fiction. I know that my perception of religion and where I stand on it was somewhat guided by my reading of the His Dark Materials trilogy which has some beautiful messages about the dangers of control of only one religion, but the wonder that can be created when different people with different life experiences and beliefs all put their ideas together, and the importance of discussion and open mindedness. This part goes for writers too, it is so crucial that people keep writing the stories that they want to write, not what will sell, because every book has a soul. A writer behind those pages who put so much emotion into these characters, crafted people from the electrical and chemical signals in their mind.

Storytelling is a major part of being human, it always has been and (hopefully) always will be. Whether you are a bestselling author, or you like to make up little scary stories to tell your friends at sleepovers, your story is part of a long, long tradition, and is valuable, and beautiful.

#writing #stories #the boy who cried wolf #my words #spilled thoughts

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wolveswatchspace · 27 days

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A Beginner’s Guide to Buying Replica Watches: What to Look For

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wildwren · 2 years

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Is Theo stamped for evil??

So, I got a reply on one of my Theo posts, and I figured I'd write a new post to compose my thoughts on this, as I've been meaning to write some Theo meta and put it in the tag! I don't mean this as a targeted reply, but just a general response to the very predominant fandom theory that says Theo is destined to be a Nazgul, or even the Witch King Himself. While I'm not inherently opposed to this theory -- I love tragic arcs and it certainly could work for me if executed well -- I'm simply not in agreement with the overwhelming fandom consensus that Theo is Definitely Stamped For Evil. I just don't see it!!

So, let's discuss!

Here’s a list of pretty much everything Theo does sequentially in Season 1:

Complains about having to help his mom when he didn’t get any sleep

Expresses some grumpiness about his mom having a boyfriend

Steals something from a very mean, objectively evil old man

Has a bitchy dynamic with his best friend, also an (older?) teenaged boy

Gets triggered by the annoying “mice” and smashes the floorboards with a poker (I’m sorry but this is the most relatable thing he’s ever done)

Puts himself in harm's way to help his mom fight off an orc, including jumping off of a loft to try to strangle the orc in a noose

Goes with his mom to the tower and helps her support the refugees there

Offers to go into town to get more food so that his people don’t starve

Goes back for more food at risk to himself

Tries to lie to aforementioned objectively evil old man about stolen sword, fails because he’s a terrible liar

Resists recruitment by evil old man, stays with his mom even when others are choosing “evil”

Tells Arondir (a person he doesn’t fully trust and who he has very conflicted feelings for) about the sword (something he has a visceral attachment to). He literally gives Arondir the hilt. He literally did that.

Spies on Arondir when he’s hiding the hilt

Helps defend and protect the helpless amongst his people during the orc battle, takes his job very seriously

Helps save his mother’s life during emergency surgery

Surrenders the hilt to Adar in the hopes that it will save his mother’s life (the person he almost just watched die) and the rest of the people in that room

Looks up to and idolizes Galadriel, a powerful figure of “light” (who is of course also conflicted)

Admits his own guilt and weakness to Arondir

Feels deep grief for the loss of his homeland, wants to kill orcs in revenge

Feels deep guilt and personal responsibility for the loss of his homeland, admits his guilt to Galadriel

Accept’s Galadriel’s sword, cherishes Galadriel’s sword

Worries and grieves deeply for his mother, Arondir, his friends, his people

Refuses to bow to or chant for Halbrand when he is named King (you know, the guy who’s literally Sauron).

In his last shot of Season 1, we see Theo holding Galadriel’s sword high and chanting “Strength to the Southlands!”

I apologize for this ridiculous and pedantic list, but I think it's helpful to see all of his actions. What this list demonstrates for me most of all is that Theo is complex! He makes some bad choices throughout the season and occasionally behaves petulantly, but he also does many brave and selfless things and demonstrates some real strength of character. I simply do not see this characterization as definitively signaling a future villain, especially when our primary protagonist and Confirmed Force for Good Galadriel also displays similar flaws, complexities, and failures of judgement. That's just good character writing, it's not necessarily villain-signaling.

I also think it's impossible to assess Theo's behavior without examining the effect the sword hilt might have had on it. We know from Theo's own words that the hilt made him feel powerful and important, and if the hilt has any of the qualities of one of Sauron's future experiments, then it's safe to say it could have a will of its own! It might, for instance, have a desire to be found! We know it was hiding in Waldreg's barn for who knows how many years, which seems like a good place for it to be, given that Waldreg was 100% willing to give it over to Sauron or even just someone who kind of reminded him of Sauron at literally the first opportunity. So it's pretty clear that even if Theo wasn't involved, the hilt would have found its way to Mount Doom.

Once Theo does have it, however, it's possible the hilt was prodding him into certain actions and behaviors -- for instance, going down into the village where the orcs were hunting for it and staying behind to look for more food, even though it was somewhat reckless of him. After he surrenders the hilt to Arondir, the influence still lingers -- he spies on Arondir when he's hiding the hilt, allowing him to later reveal it to Adar. I think there's a case to be made that Bronwyn is also affected by the hilt. As soon as she comes in contact with it, she makes a complete 180 on her original stance and decides the only way to survive is to surrender the hilt to the enemy. Of course, Arondir talks her off this ledge (and also takes the sword hilt back from her -- yes I have analyzed this blocking), after which they come up with a better option. All in all though, some very sketchy behavior from the hilt.

What is particularly notable about all of this is that Theo, despite the ring-like influence this sword might be having on him, does willingly, of his own volition, from the depths of his own conscience, surrender the hilt to Arondir! He makes the decision to do that and has the strength of will to follow through on it, even though Arondir is not (!!) his favorite person at that point! Like! What's not clicking! That's some heroic-ass behavior!!

There's certainly a case to be made that Theo is tempestuous and moody (as are all teenagers), but I also disagree with the assessment that his mother is the only thing holding him to the side of good, and that the show will kill her off to trigger his descent into evil. Sure, the season spent some time on the relationship between Bronwyn and Theo, but I would argue it spent *more* time on the relationship between Theo and other powerful characters, specifically Arondir and Galadriel, both of whom have had a very positive influence on him and could be anchors for him even if his mother was not around. It also demonstrated the care he has for his people, that the Southlands as an idea or an identity remains important to him and something he is willing to fight for.

To be clear, I am not saying he won't become a Nazgul - literally anything is possible! I'm also not trying to defend him because he's one of my faves and I don't want him to be evil (I enjoy villains so this is a non-issue for me!!). I simply do not think the character choices are clearly pointing to this arc for him. The showrunners have said that he could go in many different directions, and if he is going to be a future canon character, my money is currently on the King of the Dead. This would still be a tragic arc, of course, but in my opinion, it aligns more clearly with what we've seen of Theo. I could imagine him finally creating a home and a kingdom for his people (with the help of Bronwyn and Arondir of course), only to be unwilling to surrender this safety when the time came, at the expense of his honor. (See italicized bit above about Theo refusing to bow to Halbrand -- interesting character detail for sure!) The people who became the Army of the Dead were also guilty of worshipping Sauron, but given that this is already part of the Southlander's arc in the Ring of Power, it feels like a good fit in hitting the broad strokes of that canon story.

I also simply think this would be a more humanistic and empathetic story, which -- at the risk of sounding overly optimistic or polyanna-ish -- does seem to me to be the lens through which the writers are approaching these characters. In general, the character writing in the show feels much more interested in slow development, rather than shocking twists that force dramatic character arcs. They would have to start making some very different choices for me to be convinced that a horrific death for Bronwyn as a means of motivating Theo's villainry was territory they were interested in treading.

Finally, I just want to address the Nazgul guessing game in general, because I'm not sure I'm on the same page as the rest of the fandom with some of these assumptions. While it's certainly fun to imagine who might be a Nazgul, I think it's pretty silly to assume we will intimately know every single one of the Nazgul as POV characters, or that all such characters have already been introduced. That would be some exceptionally redundant storytelling! Even just showing one or two characters take that journey would be enough to effectively suggest the rest. The idea that half the Numenoreans and most of the prominent Southlanders are already destined to be Nazgul just seems very unlikely to me.

Okay, I'm gonna shut up now. I hope you enjoyed this post and I'd love to hear your Theo thoughts!! But please do note, boring-ass Theo slander will be unpolitefully ignored :) :) :)

#the rings of power #rings of power #rings of power meta #rop meta #my meta #rop theo

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unpluggedfinancial · 2 months

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The Growing Institutional Adoption of Bitcoin

Introduction

In recent years, Bitcoin has transitioned from a niche asset to a mainstream investment, attracting significant interest from institutional investors. This shift marks a pivotal moment in Bitcoin's journey and has profound implications for its future and the broader financial landscape. This blog post explores the growing institutional adoption of Bitcoin, examining the factors driving this trend and its impact on the cryptocurrency market.

Early Skepticism to Growing Interest

Initially, many institutions were skeptical about Bitcoin. Concerns over its volatility, regulatory uncertainties, and association with illicit activities led many traditional investors to dismiss it. However, as Bitcoin matured and its market infrastructure developed, attitudes began to change. Key turning points included improvements in regulatory clarity, technological advancements, and increased demand for alternative investments in response to economic instability.

Major Institutions Investing in Bitcoin

Several high-profile institutions have made significant investments in Bitcoin, signaling its growing acceptance. MicroStrategy, a business intelligence firm, led the way by purchasing over $1 billion worth of Bitcoin as a primary treasury reserve asset. Tesla followed suit, investing $1.5 billion and accepting Bitcoin as payment for its products. Square, led by Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey, also invested $50 million in Bitcoin, emphasizing its potential as an instrument of economic empowerment.

These investments have had a notable impact on Bitcoin's legitimacy and market value, attracting further interest from other institutions.

Bitcoin in Institutional Portfolios

Institutions are adding Bitcoin to their portfolios for several reasons. Firstly, Bitcoin offers diversification benefits, as its price movements are often uncorrelated with traditional asset classes. Secondly, Bitcoin is seen as a hedge against inflation, particularly in an era of unprecedented monetary expansion. Lastly, the potential for high returns has made Bitcoin an attractive investment for institutions seeking to maximize their gains.

Institutional Infrastructure for Bitcoin

The growing institutional interest in Bitcoin has led to the development of a robust infrastructure to support their investment needs. Custodial services, such as Coinbase Custody and Fidelity Digital Assets, provide secure storage solutions tailored to institutional investors. Additionally, regulatory frameworks have evolved to offer greater clarity and protection, encouraging more institutions to enter the market.

The introduction of Bitcoin exchange-traded funds (ETFs) has also played a crucial role in facilitating institutional investment. These ETFs provide a regulated and easily accessible way for institutions to gain exposure to Bitcoin without the complexities of directly managing the asset.

Impact on Bitcoin's Market Dynamics

Institutional investment is reshaping Bitcoin's market dynamics in several ways. Firstly, it is contributing to increased price stability and liquidity, as large-scale investments tend to reduce volatility. Secondly, the entry of institutions is bringing greater legitimacy to the market, attracting more retail investors and further driving adoption. Lastly, institutional involvement is accelerating the development of regulatory frameworks, which in turn fosters a more stable and secure investment environment.

Future Outlook

The future of institutional investment in Bitcoin looks promising, with more institutions expected to enter the market. However, several challenges remain, including regulatory uncertainties, technological risks, and potential market manipulation. Overcoming these barriers will be crucial for sustaining the momentum of institutional adoption.

Conclusion

The growing institutional adoption of Bitcoin marks a significant milestone in its evolution. As more institutions recognize the potential benefits of Bitcoin, its legitimacy and market presence continue to strengthen. Staying informed about ongoing developments in this space is essential for understanding the future trajectory of Bitcoin and its role in the global financial system.

For more insights into the world of Bitcoin and its evolving landscape, be sure to check out our latest YouTube videos and stay tuned for future updates.

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filthforfriends · 1 year

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The Hybrid (Part 1)

deranged Omegaverse Thomas x Damiano

Word count: 7.5k

CW: I originally thought this was too unhinged and graphic to post on Tumblr so do with that information what you will.

Omega Dysmorphia, that was the official diagnosis. In a world where omegas, alphas, and betas are all segregated from pre-puberty, to post-sexual maturity, any kind of Primary Gender Dysmorphia was radically isolating. It wasn’t like the alpha aspects of Thomas’ genealogy canceled out the omega to render him basically a beta. He was just a walking contradiction.

His very first identification card, as an infant, had an asterisk next to the classification Omega. It signaled some sort of irregularity that resulted in him being privately examined in high clearance situations. It didn’t have to be like this, his parents chose on his behalf. Children born with Primary Gender Dysmorphia were operated on before they were allowed to leave the hospital. It wasn’t required, but highly encouraged. His mother had refused, however, on the grounds that no functioning was compromised anatomically. Everything worked properly and an operation would only fix aesthetics and make him uniform with the rest of society.

The deformity was so rare that a rural surgeon may only encounter a few babies in his whole career. It was dangerous, and her spiritual beliefs prohibited invasive medical care. So Thomas’ biology progressed to puberty uninterrupted, and he became a hybrid. He’d been trained not to talk about it, and as a child the necessity of secret keeping for one’s own safety rendered him extremely shy.

But there was music, where he couldn’t betray himself because he didn’t have to communicate in words. With no close friends and two hobbies, Thomas became very good at both video games and guitar. He was finally able to make friends: Victoria, Ethan, Damiano, but no one could be allowed too close, lest they might discover his secret.

While Thomas’ existence wasn’t illegal, it was prohibited in the rules of society. Hybrids with Omegan Dysmorphia were seen as threats to other omegas. His existence was highly political. Many advocated hybrids to be separated from the rest of the population, lest they corrupt healthy omegas and alphas with their unnatural biology. The only thing that protected Thomas from a witch hunt was doctor-patient confidentiality.

By age 15, Thomas had never formed a knot, never gone into rut, and his hybrid status was classified. Finally free of the asterisk, he started to integrate himself into the normal world. One such event was a sleepover at Damiano’s. Beautiful, statuesque, confident, charming, charismatic, glowing Damiano. Thomas had a crush. It could be nothing, a typical part of puberty, but could also be a sign of his alpha biology. This was an idea to be thought, and never spoken, for his own safety.

Damiano’s beta mother complained that his room smelled bad from playing video games in it all day, that he needed to air it out. However, when Thomas walked in Dami’s musk gave him a rush so strong he ended up woozy. Finally the omega and alpha in him met, and it was fucking uncomfortable. He should have made up an excuse and left, but he just couldn’t. He felt a tethering to Dami so strongly that Thomas would get anxious if he took too long getting something from the kitchen.

Damiano, to his credit, noticed the urge to be tactile with Thomas more than normal, but didn’t think much of it. As a hybrid, Thomas’ pheromones weren’t the usual sensory assault. So Dami just thought that he looked really good and smelled really good. Something about him was more mature, his skin demanded to be touched. Neither of them could sleep that night, and ended up smoking copious amounts of weed before finally dozing off.

Daminao dreamt of his first heat with an alpha, his body recognizing the presence of pheromones. In the dream he felt compelled to get closer and closer, like it was his life's purpose. He woke when Thomas moved underneath him. In the night, Daminao's face had somehow found its way to the crook of Thomas neck, and his scent glands. He startled awake, because this is not how an omega is supposed to smell. He’d seen Thomas in heat, and this was a very different scent. He was restless, and too warm, so Damiano pulled the comforter back, only for the smell to intensify.

“Thomas, Tom,” he whisper-yelled, sitting up. Thomas sought him out, instinctually. When he turned over, Daminao could see the outline of a knot through his white briefs. “Thomas, Thomas,” he shook him, and he finally came too.

“Hey,” he croaked, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes endearingly. Hybrids were supposed to be the big bad wolf, but he just looked like a groggy 16 year old. Thomas must have become aware of his erection too, because he froze up in mortification. “Oh, shit sorry,” he threw the blanket over himself. “It doesn’t mean –”

“I know, but…” he lets out a sigh. Maybe this is Thomas' first time. “Dude, you have a knot.”

“I, I,” he retracts every limb as close to his body as possible, shielding himself. “I’m, um – when I was born, I wasn’t…I mean I was, I was,”

“You’re a hybrid,” Daminao finishes. “I kind of thought they were a myth, that’s really cool.” He takes a look at Thomas' expression for the first time, and even by moonlight he looks ill. He’s not breathing very much and when he does it's these big shuddering inhales.

“Hey, dude, it's okay. I’m not judging you or anything, I don’t care about that stuff.” Thomas doesn’t answer him, doesn’t even meet his eyes, just trembles. Damiano may be an arrogant 18 year old, but he knows what it looks like when a person is so terrified they stop functioning.

“Okay, hey,” he wraps his arms loosely around Thomas, who is folded in on himself. “You don’t have anything to be scared of.” That seems to finally snap him out of it, and he turns to Dami.

“You can’t tell anyone. Anyone. Like, ever.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Thomas shakes his head, and tears spill from his eyes.

“No, you really really can’t Damiano. I just got my omegan status last year. The doctors just stopped watching me. You don’t understand. You can’t tell anyone,” he sobs. “Oh my god, what's going to happen if they think my mom is lying, what if –”

“They won’t, because I’m not going to say anything. I swear too fucking god, I won’t. I won’t, Thomas. Your secret is safe with me.” It's just a saying, but the word safe broke Thomas down even more. Damino pulled him into his lap and held him, rocked back and forth while Thomas confessed every pervasive fear he’d shouldered over the years. Things changed between them after that, they were closer. To some, emotionally intimate in a way that was odd between omegas.

Thomas very rarely went into rut, but when he did, Damiano was there. It had started as two friends with a mutual attraction, helping each other out. But when Dami received Thomas’ knot for the first time, he was on Thomas’ beckon call. They tried not to hook up regularly, generally having their own partners for heat. But sometimes the craving was too strong to deny. A couple days ago Thomas had managed to knot Dami outside of rut. It was a total accident, the moment was just intensely passionate, and Thomas gave into an urge he didn’t understand at that time. Damiano had arched into it, getting a vice grip on Thomas and howling in delight. The sudden stimulation had Dami’s eyes rolling back in his head, while his body shook with spontaneous orgasam.

“How long have you been able to do that,” he demanded. The noise dissolved into a moan as Thomas steepened the angle of his cock.

“I swear, just now,” he panted.

“Good, because if you’ve been holding out on me –” Thomas gave a couple more lazy thrusts, resulting in an obscene squelching noise due to Dami’s slick. He ended up whining again, tilting his hips in an attempt to take more. This was his favorite part about knotting Damiano, he could mouth off as much as he wanted, but his body was in a state of begging for anything Thomas was willing to give. He wasn’t vindictive enough to ever use this against him either.

“Cucciolo, I have never denied you a knot in my whole life, I swear,” he coos.

“Better not,” Damiano bites back, but with a giddy smile. “Because they're mine.”

“My knots?” He asks, incredulously.

“Yeah, you only get to knot when you’re inside me.” Underneath the dirty talk is a legitimate fear that Thomas will tell another omega about his hybrid status and Damiano won’t have him all to himself. Sometimes, when Dami wraps a hand around his cock, all he needs to think about is that he’s Thomas’ only omega, ever. This level of satiation that comes from their interactions is why Thomas is surprised to see his contact calling him three days post hook-up.

“Hey, what's up?”

“I – um, forgot my art portfolio at your place.” Immediately he can tell something is wrong. Damiao is panting into the phone, and when Thomas doesn’t answer right away he lets out a whine.

“Okay, I’m not sure…” Damiano didn’t have an art portfolio, but someone listening in on the phone lines wouldn’t know that. “Oh, okay! I’ll go find it.” There was only one thing that Thomas had to keep from government moderators: his hybrid status.

“Can you drop it by soon?” Daminao sounded like he was in pain. ”Going into heat always makes my head cloudy.” Over five years of friendship, up to 12 heats a year, and he had never made that comment before.

“I could leave right away?” He tries to even his tone, so they don’t both sound on edge.

“Yes!” Damiano exclaims, before controlling his tone. “That would be great.”

“Okay, umm,” his keys jangle as he scoops them off the table. “I’ll be there really soon.” The drive is agonizing. Damiano’s voice over the phone evoked a wave of protectiveness from Thomas. He spent all 20 minutes in the car trying to discern if it was about his hybridism or heat, and not until he pulled into the parking lot did he realize it could be both.

As soon as Damiano opened the door, Thomas’ suspicions were confirmed. It reeked of omega, which made no sense, because Dami wasn’t due for weeks. Regardless of the calendar, it was evident from his body language that Damiano was wracked with pheromones. He yanked Thomas inside by his shirt, closing the door behind him.

“Can you please, please” he pants, hands fiddling with Thomas flannel.

“Yeah, yeah.” He pulls Damiano into a bone crushing hug, and that seems to make the symptoms manageable.

“Your knot triggered my heat. I didn’t know why I was so irritable so Samual and I had a really ugly fight,” he whispered. His face nuzzled against Thomas’ scent glands. “It’s been two days, I just couldn’t take it.” Thomas winces at the thought. No partner, no hormone suppressants, those things were highly regulated. Plus the dysphoria from an off kilter heat cycle? Pure torture. He turns his head to kiss Damiano, while still crushing their bodies together. It’s a desperate move, to call another omega to hook up during heat. This was new.

“I’m sorry for calling you.” He gives Thomas all his weight and practically climbs him. “But I needed – needed you,” he pants. Damiano sounds much worse in person. The sheen of sweat and vein present on his forehead, points to him being in very real pain. His entire body is tense and Thomas is basically cradling him by his waist. This might be the most potent heat he’s personally seen. Thomas cycles were mild on both ends of the spectrum. That wave of protectiveness surges up again, at the same time Damiano’s eyes flutter closed.

“Cucciolo, cucciolo,” Thomas shakes him, till his eyes open. “Hey let’s go lay down.” He sweeps Dami off the floor, whose nose ends up back against Thomas’ neck. He starts lapping at his scent glands, which stops Thomas in his tracks. He’s never dealt with another omega in heat like this. Dami would sync up with him somewhat, but his pheromones never elicited a response at this level. Right now, Damiano was more omega than human, and that's never a space they’d entered together.

“You smell so, so good Tommy,” he panted. Thomas’ brain resumed, somewhat. Dami needed him to function right now because he couldn’t.

“You really must be horny if you think another omega smells good,” he chuckled, pushing the bedroom door open with his foot

“Mm mm, you smell amazing,” he moaned. He pulled himself upwards in Thomas’ grasp, and stuck his tongue harshly into Thomas’ scent gland. If Damiano hadn’t been hanging on so tightly he would have ended up on the floor. Scent gland stimulation was basically exclusive to mating pairs, or when both parties were in heat. Otherwise you’d end up gagging. In just the past few minutes Dami’s cycle had progressed dramatically, he was right on the edge of being an animal. It didn’t make sense, Thomas was an omega and not even in heat or rut, but Dami was clawing at him like a virgin during their first mating.

“Calm down cucciolo, it’s gonna be fine.” He sets Dami down on the bed and he starts taking off his clothes. Thomas mirrored him, but by the time he had his shirt off Dami was sitting naked and rock hard on the bed. The hazel in his eyes was gone, and there was a wet spot between his legs. The entire room smelled sweet and heady.

Thomas tried to avoid playing with fire in terms of his hybrid status, on the off chance that another omega in heat would trigger an alpha response. Damiano wouldn't have called unless he was truly desperate, and Thomas could see that was the case. Because he literally growled in impatience as Thomas took off his clothes, to the point he fell to his knees and undid Thomas pants.

There was no need for foreplay, he was plenty hard, but still Daminao took his cock all the way to the back of his throat. Something made his eyes roll back, tremble like he was about to cum. He pulled off, pushing Thomas down on the bed. Dami crawled between his legs and pressed his face to Thomas’ groin, taking in deep breaths. Nothing about his omega pheromones should compel Dami to do this. This kind of rapid chemical attraction within genders didn’t exist. Yet, Thomas was dizzy from Dami’s pheromones, could feel himself get wet, cock painfully hard where it leaked onto his stomach.

“Flip,” Daminao demanded, and Thomas did what he was told. Did Dami want to fuck him for some reason? As soon as Thomas was on his stomach, Damiano was rimming him, then slurping at his slick.

“What are you –”

“Tastes so good,” Damiano groaned. He grabbed Thomas’ hips and pulled them back, burying his head in Thomas’ ass. Biologically, this shouldn’t happen. An omega’s slick was, at most, mildly pleasant to another omega, not this.

“What do you mean?” He huffed. Dami wasn’t even properly eating him out, just licking up every bit of moisture. He switched to Thomas’ scent glands, and that felt like a lightning bolt up to his sternum.

“Too much, Dam!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he husked, and the movements of his tongue became softer, less frenzied, and pleasurable. The first real moan he let changed all of that. Dami started nipping below his glands, and then bit the meat of his glute. He hissed in pain, and pulled away. Damiano looked more startled than Thomas, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t with another alpha in heat. His inability to control his urge to bite was a sign that Dami was regressing. Some alphas drove their omegas to this point to watch them beg, or would take advantage of it. Good thing he picked up the phone, because otherwise…

“Okay, cucciolo, what can I do?” Dami is crouched on all fours at the end of the bed, chest heaving. He crawls towards Thomas, throwing himself down on the mattress, then pulling Thomas on top of him harshly.

“Knot me, now,” he demands.

“I can’t! I don’t know what happened the other day, I’m sorry it triggered a heat, but I don’t know how. I told you it was –”

“You can, you have to knot me. I need – you have to, you just have to. I can’t, I can’t do this anymore,” he begs, eyes welling up. His suffering hurts in Thomas’ chest, but he’s powerless in this situation.

“Damiano –”

“I need you to, I need it. So, just do it. God, please, please, please just do it, please,” he whimpers, clawing at Thomas, who's at a loss. There's no reasoning with him at this moment. Until he satisfies his base biological needs, Damiano won’t be able to focus on anything else.

“I mean, I can try,” he offers. “I don’t think I can though.” Damiano isn’t even listening. He's propping his hips up with a pillow, then looks around distressed. Putting together a complex thought in his state is nearly impossible.

“You need something to bite,” Thomas murmurs, digging through Dami’s bedside table stash of heat toys. Meanwhile, he’s dipping a hand between his legs and using the slick to lube Thomas up.

“Prep yourself too cucciolo,” he groans. By the time Thomas had found a chew, Dami was two fingers deep and working on a third. “Good boy,” he praised, prompting Dami to struggle to get Thomas’ cock inside him. “Hey, hey, hey, okay,” he soothed. “Here, take this,” handing over the toy. He focuses on positioning himself, while Dami’s hips seek out stimulation. Breaching his entrance is more Damiano than Thomas, and once the tip of his cock is inside, Damiano gets grabby. He pulls Thoams hips closer, making it hard for him to maintain balance.

“Stop that,” Thomas barks, surprising himself. Damiano simply nods and settles back into the bed, total obedience. His hungry eyes are begging for anything Thomas is willing to give, so he gives Dami everything he has. He holds Daminao’s legs up by his thighs and pushes in, half way, then all the way, and still for a moment, allowing him to adjust. He doesn’t seem to want the time for adjustment, but Thomas isn’t going to risk hurting him just because he can heal quickly.

“Calm down, you’re gonna be okay.” Daminao’s head is tossing from side to side, with his eyes screwed shut. His entire body is still tense, in a way that's unfamiliar to Thomas. Dami is the one person he can trust his instincts with, so when he gets the overwhelming urge to deliver deep, powerful thrusts, he gives in to it. Based on Damiano’s reaction, this is the right thing to do, but the pleasure only makes him more tense.

“Hey breathe.” He takes a gasping breath, thighs trembling in Thomas’ hands. Everything about his reaction is both elevated and stiff. “Breathe…breathe…breathe” he says softly, timing his thrusts. Damiano falls into rhythm with him, timing the movement of his hips against Thomas’.

“You’re such a good alpha,” he moans, spitting out the chew. But I’m not an alpha at all, Thomas thinks. “Knot me, knot me, knot me, please, please.” The tears start spilling again, his face blotchy. Thomas tries to give him more intensity with his thrusts, a tighter grip, steeper angle, soothing touch, but nothing solves it.

“I can’t, you know that,” he growls.

“Just try, just try,” he whispers. Thomas buries himself to the hilt and attempts to focus, pulling from that unfamiliar place inside him. He tries to summon up the testosterone of rut, remembering the feeling of being unable to hold back a knot.

“Just mate me, mate me,” Dami chants, pulling Thomas roughly. The moment is intense enough that frustration gets the best of him.

“Stop it. I’m trying to focus.”

“No, mate me, knot me,” he babbles.

“Stop it!” Thomas snaps, and feels the tell tale building of pressure from his bollocks. Nothing could have prepared Thomas for Damianos reaction. His body creates a vice grip like a key fitting into a lock. Thomas’ first response was to pull away, relieve the pressure, but that wasn’t an option. It was like his cock was being strangled, but in the most pleasurable sense possible. It was a contradiction of sensation, but Thomas knew all about contradictions. He just had to figure out how to deal with this one.

It's like the uncomfortable spot just before a powerful, hard earned orgasam, but multiplied. He tries to thrust and nearly cums the first time he feels the slide of their bodies together. Damiano was still so slick inside, and that allowed movement under such intense conditions. The stimulation was like nothing Thomas had felt. It knocked the wind out of him, and he ended up collapsing on Dami, who welcomed Thomas’ body with all four limbs.

“Sorry, sorry.” He tried to get his bearings, take his weight again, but Dami kept him close.

“Shh, hey, just take your time. This is your first, so it’s a lot.” Thomas finally managed a look at Dami’s face and found him there, muddled with the omega, but many times more present. His head had finally relaxed back on the pillow, he wasn’t straining. There still wasn’t a hint of hazel.

“Hey?” he gasped. Damiano rewarded his attempt at speech with a full smile. The moment being so dire and suddenly solved gave him whiplash. His balls felt tight and heavy with his seed, this wasn’t a normal build to orgasam. He tilted his hips to a new angle, and that was enough to leave him gritting his teeth, trying to hold back.

“Try thrusting a bit.” It was strange how suddenly the tables had turned. Now Dami was coaching Thomas not to lose his mind. He nodded and pulled his hips back, then stuttered forward. Dami’s body was pulling him in and Thomas alpha biology was demanding he obey. He gave a couple experimental thrusts, just trying to get his bearings. Progressively he thrusted further out, and Dami became restless and anxious.

“You can’t pull out,” he pleaded.

“I won’t,” Thomas assured. “I know, cucciolo.” They were both omegas after all, he wasn’t ignorant to the situation, maybe just its severity. He thrusted outwards, struggling to last, trying to find a place where the sensation wouldn’t be so intense, so he could make Dami cum too. Thomas hit some sort of barrier for Dami, because he clambered to pull Thomas against him and keep him there, compelled by instincts. Something about being completely surrounded and held by Dami’s body pushed Thomas over the edge, and left him reeling as he came..

“Christ, sorry,” Thomas mewled, still trembling.

“It’s okay,” Dami assured, and Thomas propped himself up to look at his face. In the past, when Dami had been knotted he’s also expected an orgasam. Admittedly those were very easy to achieve in the situation, but Thomas could last more than two minutes.

“No, lemme make you cum.” He tried to get a hand between their bodies, but Dami stopped him.

“Really, I’m okay. Take a sec.” And he did seem totally satiated, relaxed even. He really had needed a knot, because this Damiano was nothing like the one that answered the door. Curious, Thomas turned his head to lick Daminao’s scent glands, and was rewarded with a rush of elixir that made him twitch inside. Just this small reaction made him release a primal moan, arching upwards.

Thomas was clouded by a haze of euphoria. All he could feel was the heavenly friction where their bodies met, even with the slightest tilt of his hips. Despite Dami’s assurances, he couldn’t rest until they both finished. So, forcing presence of mind, he propped his shaking body up on one arm, and used the other to get Dami off. He tried to time his thrusts with his hand, so he rocked his hips back and forth, grinding as best he could.

Damiano’s cock pulsed with his heartbeat in Thomas’ hand. The room was so saturated with the mix of their pheromones, the smell of slick, sweat, and cum, that it hung heavy in the air like a tangible thing. Every undulation of their bodies resulted in the squelch of slick. At this point Thomas’ had mixed in too, and if it wasn’t for Dami’s grip, he would have slipped right out.

Damiano’s hips started tilting in time, and Thomas looked up to find his mouth open, drooling, and gripping the headboard. Thomas could feel the prominent veins, and looked down to see Dami’s shaft crimson red. Thomas hit some sweet spot inside him that he hadn’t encountered before, causing Dami’s hands to fly from headboard to his shoulder blades. If Thomas wasn’t so full of adrenaline Damian’s nails scraping down his back would have been painful enough to kill his arousal. In the moment he hardly noticed, trying to figure out the stimulation that had been so compelling a second ago. It wasn’t necessary, the slow build from Thomas’ hand and the satisfaction of his knot had Dami spilling all over his fist.

He gradually built up his thrusts, finally able to put some force behind into it, now propped up on both elbows. Accidently, he hit that instinctual barrier again with Dami clawing at his back.

“Don’t pull out, don’t, don’t!” he whined, eyes no longer half lidded, but wide open.

“Shh, cucciolo, I’d never leave you empty like that. You can trust me.”

“Okay, sorry. I know, it's just…Just, thank you,” he whined. Thomas glanced down, and found him still rock hard. If he could get a finger to Damiano’s prostate, he’d reach orgasam in a couple minutes, but there wasn’t room. He responded to that kind of stimulation so dramatically, if only he could target that area, oh. Thomas knot had brushed Damiano’s prostate.

Doing this blind and without dexterity, resulted in it taking more than a few tries to get the right type of friction. But, once he’d found Damiano’s p-spot, Thomas didn’t let up. Dami’s reaction was so visceral, that it made Thomas fight for focus. His chest heaved, and the build up of body heat had him dripping sweat. He couldn’t stay still, body restless and constantly moving like he couldn’t contain all the pleasure Thomas was delivering. His vocalizations didn’t even sound human, more canine.

Thomas worked tirelessly at massaging Dami’s p-spot with his knot, aiming his thrusts upward to maximize stimulation. He didn’t even realize that Damiano had cum a second time. Because as soon as he wrapped a hand around his dick, it was so quick. Thomas just kept working until his third orgasam, when he ejaculated so copiously that it hit the underside of his chin. Every tattoo glistened with cum. Thomas kept going.

Damiano’s hand fell from his cock, too wracked with pleasure to do anything. Thomas started to slow, but Dami’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.

“Again,” he murmured. Thomas alternated between deep thrusts, and shallow ones that hit his prostate. His cock didn’t look capable of another orgasam, but that wasn’t the only way an omega could cum. He’d read about it, watched porn, but anal orgasms were really something only enjoyable between the partners creating them. It was all internal.

Having never experienced it before in his own heat, Thomas didn’t expect it, didn’t even understand at first. Why was Dami squeezing him even harder? He couldn’t move. It wasn’t until his muscles trembled and a wave of scalding hot liquid flushing past his cock did he realize what had happened. By total accident, he’d driven Damiano to a point where he was unable to open his eyes and nearly outright screamed.

“Again.” Thomas was about to check for consciousness, when Damiano spoke. In response to his anal orgasam Thomas had gotten another wave of pressure from deep in his groin, and this time he felt his knot form, or perhaps thicken. Damiano felt it too, because he rocked his hips against Thomas desperately, a couple tears falling.

“Again, again, again,” he begged, and Thomas obeyed. When he came, drops of slick ran all the way down to Thomas’ ankles. If it wasn’t for the heat of their bodies, he would be shivering because his pubic hair was soaking wet, totally saturated. If they were to leave the house right now, no one could tell their pheromones apart, they were so covered in the evidence of each other. They were one. That's what he was thinking as he worked Damiano through his orgasam.

“Again,” he murmured, every muscle relaxed into the mattress.

“Okay, okay. Let me just –” he sat back on his heels, trying to find a less exhausting angle. At this point, he has no idea what he was hitting. While the pleasure was nearly debilitating, he could’t feel where his cock ended and Dami’s walls started, except for the moment he tensed.

“Again,” A few thrusts in, Thomas came. He didn’t even realize he was about to, felt Damiano’s pleasure like it was his own, and didn’t know the difference. When it happened, Dami cried out in elation, head thrown back, full smile. He wiggled his hips, asking for that elusive more that Thomas was too exhausted to give to him. After his second orgasm, all he wanted to do was sleep.

“I can’t give you another, Dami. I’m sorry I’m not in rut,” he gasped

“Mm, but you’re going into rut,” he hummed.

“I – I don’t…ugh!” He was probably right, but Thomas hated not being in touch with own biology, and hated that he didn’t understand it.

“Just knot me one more time,” he pleaded.

“I can’t! I fucking can’t!” Even as he said the words, Thomas resumed thrusting. He tried to find the place inside him that knots came from and pull it forth, but after hours of mating everything was hazy. He only had the consciousness to do one thing: fuck, and he couldn’t even do that right. More than anything he just wanted to yell in anger, because this was supposed to be easy, and natural, and not like pulling teeth. The tears of frustration were hot as they ran down his face, and he wiped them away harshly, growling.

“C’mere bello.” Damiano tries to do grabby hands without the ability to lift his arms. He’s so fucking beautiful. Every desperate breath his muscles ripple, and his bone structure was carved by the gods. More than anything else, his entire body glistens: slick, pre-cum, cum, spit, sweat, glandular secretions, tears. He doesn’t look human or animal, just ethereal, and Thomas understands why alphas will take a bullet for omegas they’ve only mated once.

Thomas lowers himself back down, muscles shaking with exhaustion. He situates his head so his nose is pressed into Dami’s scent gland, taking deep gasping breaths. He does something Thomas doesn’t expect. With his last bit of energy, he reaches between Thomas glutes, and coats his hands with slick. Slowly, but with determination, he brings the hand up to his mouth and sucks on his fingers while moaning.

This compels Thomas to pull energy from a place he didn’t know existed, and start making lazy circles with his hips. Instead of forcefully pulling his alpha instincts forward, he falls back into this moment with Damiano. He lets himself be held, lets nectar from Dami’s scent glands drip down into his mouth. He doesn’t have to simulate his body’s response to their bond, because nothing about their connection is artificial.

All those years avoiding this, and it turned out to be an inevitability. An omega couldn’t knot, and that’s how he always saw himself: an omega with a birth defect, a deformity. Dami just saw him for what he was, a hybrid. And if he looked at himself through Damiano’s eyes, he was more than capable of knotting. When he felt the swell from his sack, Thomas collapsed in relief. Damiano clutched every part of Thomas’ body with every part of his, and held him.

“I don’t even know how to thank you, Tommy.” He simply nods and yawns, the prospect of sleep, oh so inviting.

“I’m gonna crush you, but I know you don’t want me to move,” he mumbles.

“I’ve been craving this exact sensation with you more than oxygen for the last five days. Please don’t change anything.” He’s basking in the scent of Thomas’ pheromones. His breathing has started to even out and slow, knot still snug inside Dami. Thomas presses a feather light kiss to Daminao’s scent gland then snuggled into his neck, much to Dami’s delight.

“Just go to sleep, this is perfect,” he gushes. Within three breaths, Thomas is out, but Dami stays semi-awake until the knot dissolves. Even then it takes him another 20 minutes to work up the courage to slide Thomas off of him. The only thing more brutal than the loss is Dami’s exhaustion. He curls up against Thomas and falls asleep as well.

He dreams of his fight with Samuel, the white hot rage is a tangible character. The shame and confusion have shadowy forms too. Even in his dream world, Damiano knows that he’s in heat, suffocated by anxiety with the knowledge that he’s going to have to do this without a single knot. Looking down from above, he sees himself in fitful sleep, enduring excruciating nights, with no end in sight. The sheet wrapped around his leg turns into a rope, then snakes. He wakes, violently craving a knot.

Thomas is on the other side of the bed, also not resting easy. Immediately, Dami can smell why. He’s in rut, but also totally drained. Damiano tries to resist waking him. He endures purgatory to the point he’s sure Thomas would want to be woken.

“Tommy, tommy,” he runs a hand down his bare chest instead of shaking him. “Thomas, I’m sorry, but wake up.” He moves to kissing Thomas scent gland and that rouses him almost immediately.

“Are you – are you okay?” he croaks, rubbing his eyes. Damiano can’t decide whether yes or no is a more honest response.

“I had a nightmare,” he says pathetically. Just tell him.

“Do you need a knot?” Damiano is taken aback by Thomas’ astuteness. He’d never dealt with another omega in heat.

“Um, yeah.” He could feel himself slicking up at the prospect of a knot. When Thomas turned over, Dami got a whiff of his pheromones, which only aggravated the situation.

“I can smell you,” Thomas smirked. Damiano felt himself blush deep red. “It's delicious, I’m gonna eat you out for breakfast in the morning.” Damiano was stunned, trying to remember a single reason why Thomas avoided Dami’s heats.

“Just, um let me shower first.” He felt tipsy and flushed, pushing back the covers because they were too hot. He was greeted with the sight of Thomas’ hardening cock. His eyes traced each curve, and he bit his lip bending over until Thomas stopped him.

“Let me shower first,” he mirrored. His tone was more demanding, but not domineering. It was refreshing, and sexy as hell. The first drop of pre-cum fell, sliding to the base of his cock, and collecting in his blond pubic hair. Daminao had a depraved idea that he couldn’t shake.

“Can I just smell you?” Thomas’ eye brows shut up, the dark brown such a flattering contrast to his dirty blond hair. He motioned for Dami to go ahead. He knew it was disgusting, but even so he pressed his face into Thomas’ pubic thicket, the soft hair tickling his face he held back a moan. This was where nearly every one of their bodily fluids had mixed together. It was what they smelled like, what getting knotted by him smelled like and he wanted to imprint it in his mind forever because it was glorious and gross. The musk that Dami had savored earlier was nothing in comparison to the heady pheromones emanating from Thomas’ scent glands now. He probably had no idea that he smelled like sex personified.

Without thinking, Damiano started kissing the root of his cock. He hadn’t given his alpha a single hand job or blow job, which wouldn’t do. They were already naked too, so all he needed was some lubrication. His mouth was too dry to use spit, but he had plenty of slick to spare.

“I can’t believe I forgot to make you drink water,” Thomas winces. “I’ll be right back.” When he gets out of bed, the nesting part of Damiano wants to yowl in descent. Why couldn’t they just stay in bed, alternating between sleeping and mating until his heat was over? Was that so unreasonable?

Thomas walks in with water and a handful of condensed meal bars, throwing a couple in front of Dami. He wasn’t interested in sustenance, he was interested in Thomas’ cock, which was still mostly hard, and definitely deserved attention.

“I’ll just eat in the morning,” dismissed Damiano. “If you just knot me we can go back to sleep and –” Thomas shook his head, opening a bar and handing it to him.

“Calories first. Hydrate,” he said, pushing Damiano to drink. He downed half the water bottle, and looked at Thomas expectantly.

“I’m fine, can’t we just –”

“No. You earn your knot by eating two of those.” Damiano scowled, but after a couple bites he realized he was starving and very thirsty. Thomas smiled watching him eat. Not smirked, smiled. There was nothing self-congratulatory about it. Taking care of Dami was plenty of reward. Thomas was settling into his alpha instincts comfortably, biologically validated by Daminao’s heat. This dynamic was novel, but comfortable. Rut was often described as putting blinders on, but it felt more like tunnel vision, and Damiano was the focal point of Thomas' entire world.

“How do you feel?”

“Um,” he took a sip of water. “From when you arrived? Indescribably better, but still anxious and just – I guess the closest word is uneasy.” He tone lilted up at the end, like a question. “Or, like, really uncomfortable. But that's kinda normal,” he assured, seeing Thomas concern.

“Let me knot you, cucciolo. Won’t that help?” he coos. Damiano just sort of throws himself at Thomas. Thomas is ready to catch him though, pulling his leg over so he’s straddling Thomas’ lap. While he rubs a cheek against Thomas scent gland, Thomas slides a hand down his back and starts thumbing at his hole, massaging the sensitive sphincter with the aid of slick. He works the first finger in with surprising ease, and the second one only takes a minute.

“You don’t have to prep me,” Dami suggests.

“I know that, but doesn’t it feel better?” Daminao nodded enthusiastically, feeling a fresh rush of slick splash on his thighs. “Plus it's so easy, now that you’re in heat, so it only takes a couple minutes anyways,” he hums, the timbre of his voice grounding. “And this is about your pleasure right?” It's a rhetorical question that still stops Dami in his tracks.

“Is it?” He lifts his head to look at Thomas, who slides a hand onto his cheek.

“What else would it be about?”” He guides Daminao into a kiss that very quickly turns desperate. Dami is hugging both arms around Thomas’ torso, mouth open to receive his tongue. As they make out, Thomas integrates a third finger, and works them in and out. Damiano isn’t counting, just enjoying the satiation of kisses with something in his ass too. He's become lost in it, so enjoying riding Thomas' fingers until he pulls away.

“Cucciolo, I’m about ten minutes away from being able to fist you, I think you’re ready,” he purrs. Damiano feels himself flush, but Thomas is right. Their level of trust has rendered him totally malleable. Thomas holds his cock upright, so Daminao can sink down on it. He’s nearly pressed the tip inside when he has a thought.

“Do I get my knot now?”

“Yes, of course, tesorino.” There's so much affection in Thomas’ voice. His omega’s eagerness is both endearing and extremely attractive.

“Okay, well I want it, um –” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember despite Thomas’ proximity making him feel drunk.

“A different position?” he asks, slowly.

“Laying down, with you behind me,” requested. “That way, we just go to sleep knotted.” Having his omega tucked against him the whole night sounded like an excellent idea to Thomas. He lay down on the bed after Dami, situating both their heads on a pillow, and pulling the blanket up. He gave his cock a couple strokes, much to Daminao’s dismay as he looked over his shoulder.

“I could have done that!” Thomas can’t help but chuckle.

“Are you ready, cucciolo?”

“Yes!” Damiano turned over, waiting impatiently, trying to mold his body to Thomas’. He nudged Dami’s entrance with the head of his cock before slowly pushing in. It was even more heavenly than last time. There was plenty of space and lube. Dami’s body was so demanding of his presence, that it gratefully welcomed Thomas cock. Now in rut, Thomas could actually mate Damiano, and the catharsis was like nothing he had felt before.

He started with some gentle thrusts and quickly worked his way up. Just when he was worried about the knot, could feel Dami wiggling in impatience, it formed and everything fell into place. Dami let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding as everything finally settled. Thomas’ hand slid over his waist, the soothing touch of skin against skin. Dami’s stomach was so sensitive and quivered when Thomas ran his hand over it, on the path down to his cock.

He started working his shaft, then took his hand away for a moment, and returned it glistening. Thomas was using his own slick to get Dami off, and it was almost too much right then and there. As soon as Thomas moved, he shuttered from the stimulation. He wasn’t surprised by Damiano’s reaction to his knot, but it wasn’t any less drastic. The friction, the slick that dripped from him onto Thomas’ thighs. He wanted to get Dami off because he wasn’t going to last. Damiano let out a whine of frustration.

“What is it?” Thomas huffed.

“Please, just cum. Don't try to hold it off,” he pleaded.

“But I –”

“Experiencing your orgasam is more pleasurable than my own, so just please, please.” Thomas dropped his hand and focused on getting proper momentum, pushing himself to climax. In Dami’s tight heat, it took less than a minute, and he was cumming copious amounts, the type of volume you only get in rut. But this time, with their cycles synching up, it felt like having something pulled from him. He came and came, hot spunk plugged inside Dami from his knot. Just when he thought he couldn’t get any tighter, Damiano’s walls spasmed around Thomas’ cock, causing him to hiss in pain.

Damiano didn’t seem to notice, he moaned in pleasure, hips rolling back, trying to take anything else Thomas had to give him. In response, Thomas grabbed his hips and pulled Dami down onto his cock. It didn’t make any difference to him, but Dami squeaked in delight. Thomas resumed his hand job, rolling his pelvis in time, and Dami clawed at the fitted sheet, letting out guttural sounds from the back of his throat.

Thomas had never seen anyone enjoy sex this much, besides in porn, but then was entirely different. There's no smell, no sensation, no radiant body heat in porn. Daminao actually sounded like he was in pain again, and Thomas was just about to check on him when he felt Damiano’s cock throb. Viscous semen spilled over his fist. Dami trembled in his arms, then relaxed completely, except where he was holding the knot.

“Better?” Thomas checked.

“Mhm. If you don’t,” he was interrupted by a yawn. “If you don’t get enough time knotted it just…it just all goes to hell. Its fucking awful. It’s like, um…you feel wrong, inside. But now, everything is right, so…” He yawns again, humming contentedly. He could feel Thomas’s semen, hot and plentiful, deep in his pelvis. It was like being hugged from the inside out. He would have been satiated without the orgasam.

“Let's go to sleep,” Thomas coached. Damiano was all too happy to do as his alpha asked, but he still had a choice. Thomas’ pheromones weren’t forcing him into submission, he was letting himself be lulled. Some omegas liked the subservience, but Dami merely bore it. If every one of his future heats was like this, he could die happy, and that could only happen with Thomas.

Notes: Not a new fic! This chapter is about a year old it just seems ridiculous to have “AO3 exclusives.” If this isn’t your thing (immensely understandable) you can opt out of both omegaverse and band member x band member on my taglist.

-Eden XOXO

Masterlist

Taglist (taglist removal)

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minas-diary · 1 year

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Crew of light as dogs...

Based on this post. Exactly what it sounds like. Some fluff to aid you all in getting through the Droughtula.

I would like to thank @re-dracula for being absolutely brilliant and thank @victoriantheorist14, @see-arcane, @marghen and @garnetsfists for their service to the Dracula (1897) fandom at this time.

I would also like to highlight my friends, @zoophagist, @wcstenra, @carpathianprince @gingerhastoomanyobsessions @the-brat-prince-1760 and @withinycu, we shall survive the droughtula. 💞

Disclaimer: contains vague spoilers for the book Dracula (1897). Proceed no further baby bats. 🦇

1. Mina Murray/Mina Harker - beagle. - the most intelligent character in the novel, other than Jonathan the primary hunter of Dracula. Beagles are known well for their intelligence and ability to hunt.

2. Jonathan Harker - Labrador retriever. - A sporting and family dog, thoroughly charming and intelligent but understated to a point. Just like our dear friend Jonathan. Can spot red flags from a good distance, they however, can’t always act to protect themselves.

3. Lucy Westenra - Yorkshire terrier - charming, intelligent, earnest, would not deliberately hurt anyone and amiable. Just like our ingenue, Lucy.

4. Van Helsing - Dutch Shepard - a herding dog, somewhat parental, Dutch, clever and known to read signs and cues very well.

5. Arthur Holmwood - papillon - charming, upper class, ridiculously cute, and known for their good hair and most thorough innocence and good intentions.

6. Quincey Morris - German Shepard - a ranch dog, strong, steady, versatile, hard working, earnest and loyal to the end, just like our American cowboy.

7. John/Jack Seward - Affenpinscher - a German dog originally bred to kill rats, awkward looking, small, and hard to find in the 21st century. Some may consider them to off putting but if you utilized correctly a useful set of paws, or hands to have on one’s team.

8. Not technically in the polycule but he gets love here.

R. M Renfield - Basenji - an usual dog, known for being “barkless” or “voiceless” in dog terms, often wrongly perceived as lacking substantial will or helpless. This is in fact, untrue, rather than silent this dog “yodels” “sings” and “sirens.” Useful as hunting dogs as Renfield is, despite circumstances useful to our vampire hunting polycule/crew. Basenji often alert their owners of danger and send signals, albeit in no traditional way. What Basenji sound like.

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broccoliboix5peepeeman · 1 year

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Midoriya-sensei AU

Part 8: Monday

Part 7 | Ao3 | Part 9

Excluding Todoroki, the other teachers thought Izuku was a try-hard.

They were right, of course. Izuku wasn't ignorant—he knew he was a try-hard. Maybe it was because he wanted people to like him; maybe it was because he wanted to prove himself; maybe it was the result of being forced into silence his entire childhood. The reason didn't matter. At twenty five years old, Izuku was a try-hard, but regardless of what his co-workers thought, he persisted.

He rocked on his feet, hands clasped in front of him, as he waited for his students to arrive.

He'd set up the "Greeting Board" shortly after starting at Musutafu Shōgakkō. The others—sans Todoroki and the Head—had told Izuku not to bother; it was a waste of time. He remembered smiling politely and pointedly ignoring them.

The concept was simple: the board was split into six sections, containing a number and a drawing, and when a student tapped one of them, he greeted them accordingly. The number one accompanied a picture of two people bowing to each other, number two signalled a high five, three was a fist bump, four was a little dance, five was a hug—demonstrated by a picture of six year old Izuku hugging a giant All Might plushie—and number six was a comment.

Izuku smiled as his first student skipped towards him.

'Hi, sensei!' Nagisa chirped, tapping the number four, before flapping her arms and twirling.

'Hello to you too!' Izuku mirrored her moves with a laugh. 'Your dancing is getting better every day.'

She giggled as she entered the class, while Touta speed-walked towards him at an alarming rate. After he firmly tapped "1", the two of them bowed.

'Good morning, sensei!' Touta straightened up and adjusted his glasses, then followed Nagisa inside. Now that Shoto had pointed it out, he really did have a likeness to Ingenium… How hadn't he noticed sooner?

As the rest of his students filtered in, Izuku found that dancing and comments were the most popular—as was usual for Monday mornings. Distantly, he wished he had as much energy as they did.

A few more minutes passed, and just before the first bell chimed, his final pupil arrived.

'Hi, sensei!' Hiru panted, examining the board for a moment, before pressing the number six and looking up at Izuku expectantly.

Hiru was best friends with Nozomi, and was one of the three heteromorphs in his class. His quirk was called "Hedgehog", so while most of his body resembled a regular—if not hairy—human, his head was covered in fur, accentuating his pointy nose, beady eyes and rounded ears that were similar to the small mammal. His uniform also had to be custom-made to accommodate the plethora of spines on his back.

Izuku thought he looked super cool, but knew from experience the sentiment was not shared by his student.

'Hi, Hiru-chan.' He smiled warmly, noting how skittish he looked and how rumpled his clothes were. 'You're energetic this morning! Too much sugar over the weekend?'

'Nope, just eager to get to class!' He laughed nervously, whilst looking over his shoulder.

'Hey.' Izuku crouched down to be at eye-level, which gained Hiru's attention. 'You can talk to me if something's bothering you. We're HQA buddies, remember?'

HQA stood for the "Heteromorph and Quirkless Alliance", which was formed as the original safe space for people whose discrimination was a result of quirk-focused society. They still had a long way to go with acceptance, but the alliance was internationally recognised, as well as part of the reason why their rights were protected and enforced by law. Most high schools had a HQA extracurricular club, but Izuku had been the first to set one up in a Japanese primary school—after pestering the Head until he finally signed off on it—so he could support his students and assure them they always had someone to talk to.

Izuku was a try-hard, sue him.

'We are.' Hiru said slowly. 'But I don't think you'll be able to help this time, sensei…'

'What makes you think that?' He tilted his head to the side, patient.

‘Because if I tell, it’ll only get worse, because they’ll know I told.’ Hiru rubbed his arm, looking at the ground. ‘And I don’t want to get people in trouble.’

Izuku pulled his lips into a thin line. He knew this behaviour and mindset well; the closed off posture, the averting eye contact, the lack of trust in the school to solve a problem, not wanting to incriminate anyone. He'd been the same growing up, and despite his best efforts, it was now happening to his student.

'Hiru-chan, I want you to know that I will always have your best interests at heart.' He smiled softly. It was difficult territory, especially with the school's policy around safeguarding; depending on what Hiru did disclose, this could escalate. 'You can talk to me, and if something is wrong, the only people I would tell would be those who can help the situation. Okay?'

His student fidgeted, unsure, and held his chin in his hand, while his pointed nose twitched in thought. However, when the bell chimed, he jumped and looked up at Izuku, hesitant.

'Can I think about it, please?'

Izuku regarded him—expression never wavering—then nodded.

'Of course.' He slowly got to his feet and gestured for them to enter the classroom. He knew better than to force the issue. 'I'm here when you need me.'

Hiru bowed, then crossed to the middle of the class, where he took his seat next to Nozomi. Izuku sighed, smile faltering slightly, before he shut the door and walked over to his own desk, facing his students.

At the start of the year, the classroom had looked clinical, the only decoration being the kanji and maths cut-outs scattered around the walls, along with the All Might poster he had pinned up at the back of the room. Even after just one term though, everything was significantly brighter: blank display boards had been filled with creative work, personalised workbooks were neatly organised on shelves, and several drawings now surrounded All Might.

Some teachers called them distractions. Izuku thought they were miserable fucks in the wrong profession, much to Todoroki's amusement.

'Okay, Mighty Minions!' He clapped his hands twice, and the class fell silent. 'I hope you all had a great weekend. I'm going to quickly do the register, then we can head down to the assembly hall.'

Izuku called out each name with no issues—only one explained absence—and soon, he was leading his students to the main hall. Luckily, they weren't the last class to arrive, and after his kids were seated, he stepped over to the side of the hall, next to Todoroki.

'Hey.'

'Morning, Midoriya-kun.' She smiled, eyes crinkled; it was that rare time of the day when her glasses weren't smudged in some way. 'How was your weekend?'

'Good, thanks.' He pointedly looked away as he felt his ears redden. Despite the nonchalant way she'd asked the question, Izuku knew for a fact that she was privy to what happened yesterday. 'I was going to text you, I promise, but I needed to recharge after everything.'

'Mhm.' Todoroki crossed her arms and leant forwards into his field of vision with pursed lips, which were upturned with amusement. 'So, when am I going to get all the juicy details? Shoto's given me nothing, and it's driving me bonkers! It's like you're his little secret—it's like the boy has forgotten that you're my best friend, damn it!'

Izuku's mouth pulled into a gentle smile, filled with affection.

'We're best friends?' He searched her eyes, and when she shot him an unimpressed look, he fumbled. 'L-Like, it's obvious that you're my best friend, but I figured you had tons of others to choose from.'

'Honey, we've got to work on your self-esteem.' She patted him on the shoulder, both of them watching the last class enter. 'Of course you're my bestie, and I wouldn't have it any other way… even though you dodged my original question.'

Izuku's eyes shone with emotion—he quickly blinked them away—before releasing a wet chuckle, which was thankfully swallowed by the idle chatter of the rest of the room.

'Okay, bestie.' He nudged her playfully. 'How about we head to the gym after school, and I'll tell you everything that happened?'

'Ugh, you're insufferable.' Todoroki rolled her eyes, just as the Head cleared his throat and called for everyone's attention. As the hall fell silent, however, she tilted her head towards him and whispered, 'Fine, but I'll need to go home and change first. Didn't think I'd need my PE kit today, for some reason.'

'You fool.' Izuku teased, then crossed his arms and leant against the wall, turning his attention to the Head.

The assembly was nothing special; mostly formalities and reminders about Sports Day, which was coming up soon, along with a brief lecture about leaving the getabako clean and tidy. However, the final topic did gather Izuku's attention.

'As you all know, we had a very important visitor last week: number two hero, Shoto.' The Head flashed his first smile of the day, while his ant-like antenna rubbed together. His quirk allowed him to use their vibrations to detect the quietest of sounds. It was useful for determining who was paying attention, amongst other things, but Izuku didn't like to think about what kinds of unorthodox conversations he'd likely heard through the years. 'Let's take a moment to thank Todoroki-sensei for making that possible.'

The room clapped on cue, but with more enthusiasm than usual. Todoroki flushed at the attention and bowed.

Once the noise died down, the Head continued. 'Now, before Shoto-san left, we had a little chat, and I want you all to know that he was very impressed with every single one of you. You were respectful and eager to learn, and he's sure many of you will make amazing heroes one day, so you should all be very proud of yourselves.'

Automatically, Izuku's eyes sought out Nozomi, who was practically beaming. The sight resonated something within him, and his own smile played at his lips.

Shortly after, the assembly came to an end, and Izuku bid Todoroki farewell, before escorting their students back to homeroom. Once they were settled, they began the first lesson of the day: Basic Japanese. To start with, he used the chalk board to take them through sentence structure and placement of nouns, then wrote up an example for his kids to figure out themselves. Once they seemed confident, Izuku decided it was time to start the individual activity, but was interrupted by Hana raising her hand.

'Sensei?' Her eyes were wide and she was smiling—her look told him that she wasn't excited about the Japanese. 'Is it true you're friends with hero Shoto now?'

Izuku swallowed heavily and cleared his throat to deter from the quickly rising blush on his face.

'Hana-chan, that's not an appropriate question to ask.' He lightly chastised, trying to ignore how much more interested his class suddenly appeared.

'Sorry, sensei.' Hana, to her credit, looked a little apologetic, but it didn't stop her adding, 'It's just that my nii-san saw you two talking outside Shoto-san's agency yesterday, so I was wondering.'

Immediately, the class was in uproar—shooting questions and exclamations—far too quick for Izuku to comprehend, and he froze. Usually, he could handle their rowdiness, but this was unexpected, and the volume was overwhelming. Luckily, he'd trained to be able to persist in these situations.

'Alright, that's enough.' He raised his hands and clapped twice, loudly. 'Five, four, three, two, one!'

There were a few murmurs, but mostly the class quietened down—albeit they still looked excited. Izuku sighed as he watched them, even though they were settled, he could tell their concentration would be harder to repair. That being said, an idea suddenly emerged in his head; one that could turn out inordinately effective.

'Okay, I understand you're all excited, but there was no need for that.' He scanned the room, emphasising his point with a disappointed frown, before relaxing back into his usual expression. 'As a one time thing, however, I will answer your question, Hana-chan, but only if you all promise not to go crazy again.'

He waited for them to nod, before cutting the suspense. 'I did hang out with Shoto-san yesterday. We are friends.'

There were audible gasps throughout the class—several students even shook their desk buddy with excitement—but otherwise, they kept their promise. In all honesty, Izuku was surprised; he was proud of their restraint.

'That's so cool!' Daisuki whispered from his seat just in front of Izuku. His eyes were squeezed shut as he clenched his fists with passion, reminiscent of Red Riot.

'It is very cool, yeah.' Izuku smiled, doing well not to get carried away himself. 'So! I have an activity for you all. Using what we've learnt today about sentence structure and the placement of different kanji, I want you all to write a letter to Shoto-san about what you want to be when you grow up and why. Any questions?'

Haku's hand shot up, eyes wide.

'Is Shoto-san going to read our letters?'

Izuku's mind immediately pictured Shoto in his office, going through each one as he sipped his tea—a cute furrow in his brow as he read—before shaking himself.

'Maybe.' He shrugged, smiling. 'Depends on how well you write them. Heroes are very busy, after all. He would only have time to read the ones with perfect grammar.'

When there were no more questions, Izuku grabbed some lined paper and handed them out to his eagerly awaiting students, along with an array of stationary. Once everything was set up, the class got to work, surprisingly quiet. Occasionally, someone would raise their hand to ask whether a certain sentence was correct, and Izuku was always happy to walk them through it.

'Five minutes left.' He called, as their first period almost came to an end. 'Time to add finishing touches, and if you're already done, read through your work to see if you're happy with everything.'

By the time they moved on to second period—maths—Izuku had a pile of letters on his desk, and a room full of happy students.

Even Hiru seemed affable when he approached Izuku before lunch, resolute and determined.

'I've decided I want to talk about what happened, if that's still okay?'

Izuku smiled encouragingly.

'Of course.'

#Midoriya-sensei AU #midoriya izuku #todoroki fuyumi #platonic fuyumizu #tododeku #izushou #teacher au #quirkless midoriya izuku #quirkless discrimination #teacher todoroki fuyumi #teacher midoriya izuku #todoroki shoto #original child characters

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