#I wish there was just like… an online class or something that I wouldn’t have to pay my ass out for

[science-lings]

I wanna be able to know about queer history and different cultural views of queerness partially because I just really wanna know it and partially bc I think it would make fiction set in historical settings more interesting. I also think it would be cool to incorporate real past queer culture in writing without having to include the Horrors (homophobia, transphobia, etc).

[kokoa-la]

Ngl I just find it so funny if Danny just accidentally becomes friends with someone trying to rob him like-

___________________________________

“Get up!”

And he was up, hands above his head and everything. The guy in all black proceeded to pat him down along his pockets while pointing a gun at him otherwise. 

“How do you not have a wallet on you?”

“I’m a college student, I can barely afford tuition.”

That’s a lie, he was on a full ride scholarship, but they didn’t need to know that. 

“Oh you too?”

Did this bitch just say ‘you too’ ? No way.

“‘You too?’ Are you doing this to pay for college???”

Ancients, the school system sucked if he had to resort to crime for this.

“Yeah- you wouldn’t believe how expensive my major is, the textbooks alone cost more than my rent!”

“Holy shit, no kidding. Yeah, why are textbooks so expensive? Why am I paying hundreds of dollars for something that could have been a 2 dollar pdf?”

“Right! I tried asking my professor instead, but he said he’d fail me if I didn’t have the right materials! It’s driving me nuts. Like how am I supposed to pay for all this?”

How Dannt started making conversation with his own robber, he didn’t know, but he was happy to finally complain with someone. He hadn’t exactly made friends since he got here.

“Personally I buy used books, and the more trashed they are, the cheaper. Then, you can just use the pdf version but still have the textbook in class. It’s honestly so much easier. Or you can see if you can borrow it from the library and just bring it in for the classes he checks it, then return it after to avoid the fees. That option is a bit more troublesome though.”

“Oh shit, no way! That’s awesome, I never thought of that, thanks man! Man, I wish I talked to you sooner.” 

“Yeah, it’s all good, maybe just avoid the crime after this? There’s tons of online jobs you can do during class and stuff. I don’t know, there’s always another option than crime. You sound like a good guy, just desperate.”

The robber turned friend (?) lowered his gun and sighed before returning the items in the bag to everyone. He then apologized to the cashier and then to everyone else before giving Danny a hug (how long had it been since he’d gotten one of those?) and leaving. Danny was so proud of him he almost cried (again). 

______________

I know it's a bit weird and out of place, but that's bcs its a snippet from a fic I'm writing on ao3 😭

But still, I need more of Danny befriending ppl trying to jump/rob him

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

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A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

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Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ‘tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How much luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone’s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoken out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

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Tagged: @darkflowerav

[corruptedcaps]

Bitchy Besties

“Leave me alone Cory! This is weird and creepy! This is why we broke up over the summer! You can't do this, not as we are about to start our senior year tomorrow! For a computer genius you really are stupid sometimes!” Kate said as stomped away angrily from her ex boyfriend.

Kate had been eager to get started on her course work for the year that she came in a day early to prep but was rudely interrupted by her Cory her ex boyfriend who she had been dodging calls from all summer.

“Please Kate! I did this for you! I know you were against this plan from the start but you have to help me finish it now, it will change you life!” Cory pleaded with her while holding the length of hair extensions he had stolen from Tanya, the biggest bitch in school.

“I didn’t want you to do this! Even if I believed that you were right, that Tanya got her confidence, her meanness, her power from her hair extensions, why would I ever want that?” Kate said finally stopping to face him.

“Because she’s been your bully for years and if you can take that power from her then you can finally stand up to her.” Cory said with no ounce of insincerity.

Kate wasn’t buying it though, she knew he just got off on this ‘corruption fetish’. She had caught him one day jacking off to posts online from some woman called ‘Evie’. Each story had someone go from a loser into a slutty mean bitch like Tanya. Even now she could see his crotch twitch.

It was why they broke up. Cory got it into his mind that because Tanya wore extensions that they were somehow the source of her ‘bitchiness’. The whole thing was absurd to Kate and the stories she had read were filthy. She wished he would listen to her. That’s when it hit her. All of Evie’s stories that she had read had the men subservient to the women so if she could ‘transform’ then maybe she could tell him to leave her alone for good.

“Fine! Give me that stupid thing!” Kate said annoyed as Cory handed her the hair and then handed her a bag.

“Wait what’s all this?” She asked about the bag.

“Well I figured once you change you’ll want to be in something more Tanya’s style, so inside is a dress, jewelry, makeup, and shoes.” He said with a sick grin. Kate rolled her eyes.

“Fine but stay here, I’m getting changed in the bathroom.” She said and he looked sad that he wouldn’t see the transformation first hand.

Entering the bathroom she emptied the bag onto the counter and saw with disgust the tight slutty clothes he had chosen. Sighing she just made peace with what she was about to do, once she had this done she could move on with her life.

Stripping off her baggy clothes she poured herself into the slick leather pants and tight white top. Both surprisingly fit her well. She had never considered herself to be the same size as Tanya but then again she was used to dressing as if it was perpetual winter. Even her boobs looked pretty good in the top, it helped that she had developed early but hid them from the world.

Eyeing the jewelry next, she put on the hoop earrings and the necklace. She thought she would feel weighed down by it all, but it all felt remarkably light on her body. The necklace even drew the eye to her cleavage, as if by design.

Next she stepped into the high heel shoes which were bigger than anything she was used to. Taking her first few steps she felt unsteady but after about a minute she was a natural. She thought to herself that her years wearing soccer cleats must be helping her adapt quickly.

Her most daunting task were the fake nails and makeup. She hated makeup with a passion but she needed to do this so picked up the makeup brush and began applying a soft foundation. It reminded her of art class which she loved and imagined her face as a canvas. She gave herself a smoky eye, a bold lip, sharp eyebrows. She was actually impressed by it all. Her lips looked fuller, her blue eyes more piercing.

Snapping on the long fake nails was a breeze too. She never understood before how girls could do anything with their nails so long but as she took out her phone to take a quick selfie of her finished self she found the clicky clack of the nails against her phone screen strangely satisfying.

However before she took the picture she realized she was missing one thing, the main thing that this was all about. The hair. Picking up the long extensions, Kate was thankful that her and Tanya had the same shade of colour otherwise it would look odd.

Clipping it on, she quickly found it was hard to find where her own hair ended and the extensions began. Running her hand through it she couldn’t find the seam, it all felt the same.

According to all the filthy stories she had read this was the moment where the ‘evil’ part of her would take over or Tanya’s soul would corrupt hers. Instead she just broke out into a laugh. She couldn’t believe Cory actually believed this would do anything. When she had broken up with him she had been crest fallen about it but now she was glad she had.

“What a loser.” She muttered to herself as she stroked her hair. She did have to admit she felt kind of empowered being in the get up. As if she were like a super hero who transformed into their costume. Although she was dressed more like a baddie in every sense of the word. Now she just had to act the part.

Closing her eyes she remembered back to the Evie stories she had read and tried to channel the girls in them. She thought about Tanya and her walk, her posture, her sneer. If she was going to get Cory to stop bothering her for good she needed to be convincing.

Opening her eyes she put a hand on her hip and stared at her reflection with the same contempt she has seen in Tanya’s face a thousand times, like she had smelt something rotten. The makeup helped make her expression cold and cruel.

“You think you can just walk around here dressed like a bargain bin reject and not get bullied, haha you’re pathetic.” Kate said with pitch perfect bitchy tone followed by an evil grin that curled up naturally.

“You’re the new girl here so you don’t yet understand that I rule this place. I’m the queen bee. I’m the head bitch. I’m Kate…” she began to say but her own name felt weird. Kate wasn’t the name of a bullying bitch, it belonged to a kind and sporty girl who kept to herself. No she needed a new name for her new persona.

When the name came to her she knew she was ready. Taking one last look at herself, she gave herself a wink and strutted out of the bathroom.

The first thing Cory heard was the clip clop of her heels and so was drawn to looking at her feet first. His eyes travelled up her body and every inch closer to the top he found himself get harder. By the time he got to her face he was pitching a tent.

“Eww do you have a boner you creep?” Kate said in her fake bitchy tone but the disgust was all hers. She couldn’t believe she ever dated him.

“I’m sorry Kate you just look like, my god…” he said his mouth agape. Kate knew she needed to turn on the haughty superiority, someone like Tanya wouldn’t stand for this.

“Kate? Who the fuck is Kate? I’m Kayleigh and why are you even talking to me loser?” She snarled at him. He seemed to shrink in her presence, a fact that made Kayleigh strangely proud.

“I-I’m sorry Ka-Kayleigh I d-didn’t mean anything by…” he started but Kayleigh just rolled her eyes.

“D-d-d-dipshit. God you’re pathetic. Is this what the school has in terms of men? Don’t you ever bother me again you hear me? Now scram loser before I give you something to really stutter about.” Kayleigh said glaring at Cory who froze for a moment before running off down the hall. Kayleigh watched as he tried to hide his erection from her.

“Phew that outta do it.” She thought and dropped her bitchy stance, letting her shoulders slump. However what she heard next sent a shiver through her body.

“Impressive what you did to that little weasel.” Said a voice behind her that she knew belonged to Tanya. Reasserting her mean girl stance, Kate pivoted around to see Tanya leaning against a doorway.

This couldn’t have gone south quicker, Kate thought, here she was standing feet away from her bully, wearing her clothes, jewelry, makeup and shoes. Tanya strutted over to her like a predator. Inside Kate braced herself but Tanya stopped just in front of her.

“You know I caught him stealing from me recently? Glad someone made him realize what a twerp he is. Are you new here?” Tanya said eying Kate but seeing only Kayleigh. If Kate was going to get out of this unscathed she needed to continue to act like Kayleigh a little more.

“Yeah I am. Its Kayleigh. Daddy got a job here and we are scouting schools. I have to say that this one isn’t impressing me much.” Kayleigh said, the disgusted tone flowing effortlessly out of her mouth.

“Ugh tell me about it. I begged mommy and daddy to send me to Alpha prep but they wanted me to mingle with the ‘common’ kids.” Tanya said disdainfully.

“Alpha prep? Babe those uniforms would have looked bomb on your fabulous figure.” Kayleigh said flattering her enemy.

“Right? I had all these plans to modify it to make me the hottest bitch there but being queen of this dump does have its perks, like getting early access to test answers for the semester, otherwise I wouldn't be seen dead here on a weekend." Tanya said holding up a sheet of paper with various subjects listed.

“Totally. Being here on a Sunday is making my skin crawl.” Kayleigh sneered in a way that Tanya found familiar but enjoyable. She didn’t recognize her own sneer that Kayleigh was mimicking perfectly.

"Hey why don't you let me take you to the mall and I'll show you around the best stores and I can fill you in on all the juicy gossip. I can give you a better sense of this school than you can walking these dusty halls.” Tanya asked. This wasn’t what Kate had in mind, she knew this would just prolong her time as Kayleigh but she was finding herself not caring as much as she had before. A few hours of pretend wouldn’t kill her.

“Totes babe I was thinking the exact same thing.” Kayleigh said and Tanya practically grabbed her and locked arms with her.

“I’ll show you what fun two hotties like us can have. By the way I love your outfit, it’s totally my style.” Tanya smiled at her as she led Kayleigh out of the school away from her baggy clothes hidden in the bathroom, away from her identity as Kate.

To be continued…

[sephifrog]

First class soldiers and their love language/blurbs

Sephiroth

I feel sephiroth would dislike public displays of affection unless it’s hidden.

Holding hands/linking pinkies under the the table.

Small smirks when he knows no one is looking.

He has to initiate any type of kiss but that’s rare, if you try he will get upset really only because he doesn’t want hojo or (god forbid) the silver elite to find out.

He is really touch starved so he loves cuddling when your in the safety of his apartment.

He’s the type to hold you close and kiss the back of your neck softly, wishing he could never let go, wishing he could stay by your side and forget shinra, forget his past and just start a future with you

He definitely enjoys cooking with you, I feel he would enjoy being domestic with his partner, watching them when he finished his tasks

He can get a bit stiff when you grab him out of nowhere but it’s not because he doesn’t want it (he craves it) but because he’s not used to it

If your first class he would feel his fingers reaching for you when getting assignments but won’t let his hand move

He’s possessive, at first in a “this is my first love I have to keep them safe” way

but as he starts to spiral it’s a

“their mine and no one can take them away from me, I won’t let shinra take away the one good thing in my life”

If you make him a charm bet your arse it’s on his sword/ phone honestly anywhere it’s close to him, if it gets damaged he would flatten the battlefield (Genesis once almost damaged it in training and almost lost an arm)

All in all I think he’s an inexperienced partner but tries his best when he finds someone, he’s hard to win over but once you do he’s with you until the end

Angeal

like sephiroth he wouldn’t be fond of pda however he’s much more lenient holding your hand when he can

He would flush and chuckle when you kiss his cheek, muttering how you missed

The only time he would flat out refuse is when zack is around he loves the boy but he would never hear the end of it

He would hold your waist when your both chatting to the firsts and genesis teases him later

He would love cooking with you and looking up puppies online

He’s the type to plan for after the war, he wants to settle down with you and two dogs maybe on a ranch.

He would send letters home to his family and gush about you- he gets a letter back with a set of rings and almost passes out

If your first class he would sneak you into his room to have date nights he’s a romantic I feel

Angeal would love to be a father he wants a pigeon pair that he can show off, he knows his mother wants grandchildren.

Genesis

Man doesn’t care he wants to be close to you no matter where you are.

His fondness for pda can sometimes be to much, he would never force you to show affection but he likes feeling your warmth, hand holding kissing cuddling he wants it all and is delighted when people see

He’s not afraid to pull you aside for a sloppy make out

However he is a soldier and takes his role seriously so he won’t touch you at all on missions if your a soldier

He would quote loveless to you asking you to watch the play

He enjoys the finer things so he would wine and dine you, however he still loves simple dates just being with you

He would call you a goddess and smirk at how you fluster.

Loves holding you when your doing anything, you cuddle on the couch and read, or just listen to him recite loveless out loud while you do something else

Genesis wants to be the hero and you will forever be his goddess, he hopes one day he can prove that he’s worthy of such a person, his beloved

[megalomaniacz]

SNOW ANGEL

i'll angel in the snow until i'm worthy ❄️

🌨️ but if it kills me i tried

if it kills me ⛸️

pairing: ex!ellie x reader

synopsis: ellie shows up at your door in the dead of winter, years after your break up.

warnings: su!cide attempt, alluding to alcohol addiction, no comfort and no happy ending.

authors note: this is short! i’m on my period rn and i am honestly so devastated for absolutely no reason so i decided to write about it. loosely (completely) based on my very sad experience with an ex. if any of you beautiful people need someone to talk to i am always here. i’m always an option.

you’re everywhere. at the bottom of the bottle, at the bottom of the glass. ellie couldn’t shake you. not even in the winter under the warmth of other girls. that’s why she was knocking at your door tonight. for the first time in months.

well not really. she’s always almost about to knock. almost did last week until she heard you laughing with friends. almost two weeks ago until she heard your drunkenly stumbling around, kissing some girl. always almost, almost always.

but tonight she couldn’t help herself. knuckles burning from the cold outside, she knocks three times. it takes you ten seconds to anwser. she counted while drawing shapes in the snow on your porch railing.

“ellie?” you barely breathe. too much floods your mind at once. a kiss on your neck, flowers on the first date, her smile. her laugh, god you hadn’t heard that in forever.

“come in, you must be freezing.”

do you offer her soup or tea? or maybe the warmth of your heart? the remains of your love laying flat on your bathroom floor? that night, the knife. the pills, the whiskey.

who tries to kill themself with their mother’s switchblade?

“i’ll take the tea thank you.” she blows into her cupped palms, shivering. she looks awful but not drunk. just battling a thought. probably the one telling her to get the hell out of there.

“how’ve you been?” you ask. you’re trying to be polite but it’s fucked to act like you don’t have eyes. even after all these years, she’s still torn. guilt ripping at her from the inside.

“i’ve been pretty good, got a job fixing cars. taking some classes downtown.” she shrugs, looking down at her feet anxiously. she leans onto her left leg, twisting the right in the air slightly.

you sigh. something close to but not quite relief washing over your body. at least she’s busy? you can’t look at her. everytime you see her face you want to break into a slew of tears. hold her, hit her, blame her, apologize. why’d you invite her in again?

“i don’t think i ever said um…” she starts. the tea is screaming on the stovetop. “wait, hold that thought.” you flash a small smile and rush to grab it. she wishes you wouldn’t have. would she have the courage to finish what she was saying when you came back?

the anwser is no. you returned to an empty space in your front entrance. cold air flush from the door. all you want to do is throw the cup at the wall and watch it break into a million pieces. maybe it’ll help the anger. maybe it will mend the tears in your heart. maybe it’ll ease your own guilt, your own ache.

you didn’t understand. she was so happy that week before. you were going to a dinosaur exhibit for her birthday that friday. she was visiting joel’s grave everyday. she was drawing so many pictures of you and the house. you saw her ring shopping online.

what could you have done? how could you have known? could you have known?

[btsfaris]

day and night

summary: you’ve always felt like you never fit in Hongjoong’s world.. or maybe he just didn’t fit in yours.

pairing: kq fellaz kim hongjoong x reader.

genre: multi-part, angst, fluff, future smut

-

This last year you were in a wonderful relationship with Hongjoong. The hardworking leader of Ateez, but the love of your life to you. Even though they were still considered rookies, they blew up so early in their careers. From millions of views online to thousands of record sales, you couldn’t be more proud of him.

You met him by chance, while he was still a trainee, filming his pre-debut show called kq fellaz, as all of his fans know. You happened to sign up for classes that summer with your best friend, who was an amazing dancer and begged you to go with her. After weeks of convincing, you finally decided to give it a shot and now you don’t regret it one bit.

Obviously, you had a lot of practice to do, everyone else was so talented and you were rather uncoordinated in the sense that you were clearly not on the same level as everyone else. And Hongjoong saw that, but rather than mock you or laugh at you, he decided to help.

“Hi,” a young man with dark hair spoke up beside you, “need help?”

You felt embarrassed, already out of breath when you were only just practicing the first part of the choreography, “Oh I’m okay, thank you,” you blushed red, wanting the ground to swallow you whole and cancel your membership immediately.

“Are you sure? I want to help,” he smiled at you, not in a humorous way but instead, kindly, “I know it’s hard.. but I can teach you..”

You looked around, noticing everyone almost having the movement and rhythm down while you were still struggling with the counts. You turn back to him and he raises an eyebrow, deep brown eyes soft.

“Okay,” you agree hesitantly, and his eyes gleam.

“What is your name?” He asks.

“Y/n..” you tell him, “what’s yours?”

“I’m Hongjoong.”

…

From then on, he helped you during every class and taught you how to dance properly. You both even did a small choreo together, that sadly never made it to the dance studios channel, but was still fun nonetheless.

You both had exchanged numbers and despite his limited English, he still made an effort to talk to you. Of course he preferred phone calls, as it improved his language skills but mostly because he wanted to hear your voice whenever you were apart. You had developed feelings for him but he told you he would only be staying a month before he had to leave back home to Seoul, so you never thought you would have a chance.

On his very last night in LA, you took him to your favorite spot, a small beach to watch the sunset and the stars while laying on the hood of your car. You left the radio on, the latest pop song at the time playing softly in the background as you talked and laughed with him. Hours had passed, and it was almost time to take him back to his rented house before his manager would notice his disappearance.

“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly, still looking at the stars, “I hope you debut, you really deserve it Hongjoong..”

“I’ll miss you too, I wish I didn’t have to leave..” he whispers sadly, “I want to stay here, with you. Here in LA.”

“You shouldn’t stay here Hongjoong, you have so much talent.. you’re an amazing person, you were meant to be an idol,” you look at him and he turns to you, “I wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

He stares at you for a long time, before opening his mouth, almost hesitating, “Y/n.. can I tell you something?” You nod, turning your body to lean on your arm next to him.

“I like you..” he blushes, his hands trembling at his confession to you.

“You.. you do?” He nods, eyes looking away in embarrassment.

“I like you too..” your eyes water, “I really like you Hongjoong.”

His eyes snap back to yours, softening when he sees your face. “Don’t cry,” he pulls you close to him, hand caressing your face to wipe away your tears.

“Don’t forget about me..” you whisper, looking up at his beautiful, clear face.

He looks at you for a second, before leaning down to place his lips softly on yours. His warm hand holds your face, while yours shoot up to grab onto his shirt, pulling him as close as you can. You kiss until you run out of breath, finally separating when it becomes too much.

“We’ll make it work,” he lets out a smile, pushing your hair out of your face, “I’ll never forget about you. I’m yours.. and you’re mine.”

[flightfoot]

Do you have recommendations for future fics starring the current cast's children? Preferably ones where the kids have become superheroes themselves, but not required.

Sure, I've got a few! I dunno how much focus is required to qualify, but I'll do my best!

a story retold by @hanaasbananas

“No, no no, darling,” he shushed Emma, “don’t cry, your maman needs her sleep.” Rocking Emma slowly until she settled again, he continued “What if i tell you a story, hm? Shall I tell you all about how I met your maman–you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” or: 4 times Adrien told his children how he met their mother, and 1 time someone else told it instead.

---

Cheating Cat by @11jj11

When Emma and Isaac Dupain-Cheng realize that Adrien is Chat Noir, that can only mean one thing... that he's cheating on Marinette with Ladybug, and they're the only ones that know!

This is really cute, with Emma and Isaac being worried about Adrien supposedly cheating on Marinette and wanting to talk to Ladybug to stop her from dating Chat Noir. That’s not all that’s going on here, though - Isaac’s actually adopted, but he and Adrien are still related, which puts an interesting twist on the tale. There’s a reason he’s especially sympathetic to the fact that Adrien being Chat Noir means he would have had to fight his own father…

---

Turtle-y Awesome! by chatonne-rousse

Hugo Dupain-Cheng loves turtles, and by extension, he loves Carapace, his favorite superhero of them all. He doesn't know yet that his idol is also his Uncle Nino, and Nino hasn't yet seen the Carapace shrine that is Hugo's bedroom. But the little man is turning five and has just two wishes - a Carapace-themed party with friends and family, and the latest, greatest Carapace play set. This is a story of best friends, laughter, good kids and even better parents, and a whole lot of turtles.

---

Into the Unknown by NUMBER1ANGIRL

Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been Ladybug for 12 years now. She’s been fighting Hawkmoth by herself in this time, without the partner she was promised. When Hawkmoth is defeated, she starts fighting a new villain, and the strange ache of something she wasn’t aware was missing.

---

Growing Fangs by @rosie-b

Louisa Dupain-Cheng has always liked to keep secrets. When she finds out that her parents are the heroes of Paris while spying on them as they transform for a patrol one night, she decides to keep this new finding all to herself. But as the years go by, will she change her mind?

---

This last one's incomplete, but it's got quite a lot of focus on the future kids.

Primary Sources (And Other Historical Epiphanies) by Hoover_the_fish

Mary Beauréal hates history, so she's not too jazzed for the history reports and group presentations that Caline Bustier assigns for her class. However, the people in her life have an odd connection to an era her teacher refers to only as, "Ladybug and Chat Noir," a connection that none of them seem to want to remember. "For some reason, there aren’t a whole lot of newspaper articles, but there’s an old blog online that might be worth checking out. As far as I know all the pictures, interviews, the articles that still exist- they all ended up there at some point or another." "Do you know what it's called?" "I believe she named it the Ladyblog."

[jgf444]

Mavericks: Chapter 1

[Visual: The screen of the infomercial was playing on zooms out to reveal the dark room. Only this time the lights turn on suddenly to reveal a high-school classroom.

It’s a fairly well-decorated, sleek, and colorful space, with other touches, like a digital holographic screen displaying the title MAVERICKS. Students look mildly disinterested as a young boy, about 5’5 feet tall and 16 years old, with a light skin tone and brown eye color and a black hairstyle (think like Hotaro Oreki) and wearing a white t-shirt with gray jeans, is barely keeping himself awake when his teacher, a fairly lanky and skinny man, addresses the class and turns off the screen the infomercial was playing on.

Teacher:

“So everyone, what were your opinions on the ‘Welcome to Aurora’ video?”

[Visual: The students respond randomly and uncommitted, their answers drowned out by the overall feeling of extreme boredom]

Teacher (annoyed):

“Maybe I forgot to say you all have an assignment due on this.”

[Visual: The class suddenly panics and scrambles to get out pens and notepads as the teacher sends the classwork notification to their devices. The boy, now aware of his surroundings, looks at the assignment on his pad in confusion.]

Boy:

“Uhh, Mr. Tompson?”

Tompson:

“Yes,  Conner?”

David Conner:

“Why is there a question asking what brand of clothing the Guide wore?”

Tompson:

“To make sure you all were paying attention to the video. After all,  I need to make sure all of you are listening. This is a test, by the way, so your overall score in this class will be affected. Good luck”

[Visual: As Mr Tompson walks off, David stares blanky at his paper for a good few seconds, before trying to get the attention of his classmate and friend Dan West, an African-American 5’7 tall and 16 years old, with thin glasses, military cut hair, a turtleneck sweater, and black shorts, who turns to him looking slightly annoyed.]

Dan:

“(sighs) Yeah?”

David:

“Look, Dan, I’m sorry. I know you’re bus-”

Dan:

“Not really. I already finished this up yesterday.”

David:

“...We had this since yesterday?”

Dan:

“Yep. Tompson just didn’t tell us.”

David (annoyed):

“Of course he didn’t. How did you even do it without the video?”

Dan:

“Searched it up online. I can show you the video, but we have to be sneaky about it”

David:

“Forget it, you know he’s gonna catch us. Just help me find the answers. Please.”

Dan:

“(stares at David for a minute, looking slightly conflicted, before sighing) “Move a bit closer.”

[Visual: David hands his pad to Dan, who begins selecting the correct answers]

Dan:

“Dave, I’ve known you since we were little kids, right?”

David:

“Uhh, yeah. You help me with that math test back in second grade.

Dan:

“That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. Your dad is a scientist, right?”

David:

“He’s officially known as the Chief Mechanical Manager of I.E.E, but yeah, why?”

Dan:

“Why the hell do you want me to help you in every test or surprise quiz we get? Your dad is a genius, and he’s rich. He probably hires the top tutors for you, so why do you need my help with all the work we get? I’m not saying you’re dumb or something, but you should know this.”

David (sighing and slightly embarrassed):

“I know. He does hire some instructors for me, the only issue is that most of the time anyway, I don’t really pay attention that much.”

Dan:

“Come on, it can’t be that hard.”

David:

“I wish. It’s been an issue as far back as I can think of. But it’s honestly getting better lately.”

Dan:

“If that was true, I wouldn’t be doing this for you. (realizes something and looks at the pad) Speaking of which, you owe me one.”

[Visual: The pad pings with the result: a perfect 100 with fanfare music along with it. David smiles at Dan]

David:

“Thanks.”

[Visual: Tompson looks at the time on a wall screen and pulls up all the tests on his computer. He seems to take special interest in David and Dan’s]

Tompson:

“Mr. Conner. Mr. West.”

David (worried):

“Great. He caught us.”

Tompson:

“You both did outstanding work today. Great job gentlemen! And in record time too.”

David (relieved): 

“Oh thank god, I thought you just wrote my answers word for word.”

Dan:

“And why exactly would I do something so stupid? He’ll probably think I copied you and THEN what would happen?”

David:

“Good point.”

Tompson:

“I am proud of you two. As a reward, you can both start early on the next assignment.”

[Visual: Tompson takes out a remote and presses a button, which replaces both of the boys’ desks with a table littered with science equipment, lab materials, and a book manual. David looks disappointed]

David: 

“Goddamnit”.

[Visual: Dan and David begin putting on some protective gear and look at the manual]

David:

“I thought we would actually get to relax, not do more work.

Dan:

“Relax. Looking at the whole thing right now, It’s really just a simple goal of getting a chemical reaction out of this. If we’re lucky, this whole thing should take about…3 hours.”

David:

“What?!”

Dan:

“Give or take, honestly. Now, stop complaining and hurry up, the sooner we finish, the better.”

[Visual: David looks extremely bored as Dan begins to read the manual. As he is doing so, David notices some nearby chemicals: One light blue liquid in an orb-like glass and several bright yellow cubes]

David:

“Dan, I need the manual for a minute.

Dan:

“Be my guest.”

[Visual: David grabs the manual from Dan and looks over a page about the two chemicals. It says they are both individually harmless and little more than multicolored liquid]

David:

“Dan, you see those two vials over there?”

Dan:

“Yeah?”

[Visual: David smiles at Dan]

David: I’m gonna mix them.

[Visual: David reaches for the vials when Dan’s hand stops him]

Dan:

“A-Are you stupid?! Do you want to get expel-”

David:

“It’s fine. The manual says they’re both safe to work with. At worst, you’ll probably get a chemical burn or something. Besides, we’re not gonna do anything interesting in this class, so this might be fun. Trust me.”

Dan:

“Okay…”

[Visual: David throws the manual to the side, where the book lands on a page that says that the two materials should not be combined, lest the risk of triggering an explosive chemical reaction. David is about to drop a cube in the blue liquid]

Dan:

“Wait.”

David (confused):

“Hmm?”

Dan:

“Shouldn’t you drop two cubes for a better reaction?”

David:

“Huh. Good point.”

[Visual: Slow-motion close-up on the cubes as David drops them, splashing into the blue liquid as it starts to bubble. Cut to a floating car going down the highway as other similar cars move around it. We see a white 5’10 man with a lanky and slim build, wearing a formal-looking office worker shirt with blue jeans. He has a messy look to his hair like he just got done with a particularly stressful overtime shift. He has slight bags in his eyes and has brown hair with a slight beard growing. This is Nigel Conner, David Conner’s dad]

Nigel (optimistic):

“So was your day at school?”

David:

“Good.”

Nigel:

“Anything you want to discuss?”

[Visual: David pauses for a bit]

David:

“No, not really.”

[Visual: Nigel frowns and adjusts the rear-view mirror which shows David, who is both covered in dust and soot and has mangled-looking hair. David looks off to the side with a shameful look on his face]

Nigel:

“Oh don’t be like that. Everyone makes mistakes. I remember the last time I made a chemical error.”

David:

”Dad, I don’t think you blew up a classroom when you did. I screwed up and now your schedule is messed up because I couldn’t keep my hands off the vials.

Nigel: 

“The point is, just because you messed up today, doesn’t mean you will mess up tomorrow. You were curious about the chemical reaction and how it would work. That’s the sign of a true scientist. You just didn’t read the instructions first. But that doesn’t mean you failed.”

David:

“Wish my teacher thought the same thing. You should have seen how angry he was. I wish I could have known not to combine those two materials.”

Nigel:

“Which is why I will make sure Dr. Achmann will teach you all about Glaurine and Portocubes.

David:

“Wha?”

Nigel:

“You heard me.”

David:

“But Dad, I have a plan with my friends later! We’re gonna go to a swimming pool!”

Nigel:

“Friends and swimming can wait. You’re not going anywhere unless you can tell me the definitions of both of those materials with zero trip-ups.”

David (frustrated):

“Dad!”

Nigel:

“No. You’re going to study hard, young man, and by the time this day’s over, you’re gonna like it!”

David:

“Arggh!”

[Visual: As the final parts of the conversation go on (starting from the ‘but dad’ part) We cut to the car speeding down the highway as we see the tall buildings, floating and flying cars, and multiple shining lights of the city.] 

[friendlychaos]

✨Vent Post✨

I’m gonna vent here because this is my blog and no one can stop me. I just went to dinner with my dad for my birthday. I just turned 19, I’ve barely been outta high school for 3 months, I’m not going to college until January because I wanna work first to save money and help my mother with bills. My dad and his wife sit there and ask me questions they know make me uncomfortable and that they know will make me upset. His wife asks me if I’m dating anyone as they’re talking about who my sister is going to homecoming with, and I say I’m not dating right now because frankly my last relationship destroyed me and I just wanna focus on me for a little while, but then his wife says I should do online dating and just have fun. She asks how my friends are enjoying college and asks if I wish I was there with them. I wish I was, but I have to focus on other things and sacrifice going to college right now so that I can ya know live. They tell me I should be going to parties, and drinking, and dating, and that I’m only 19 and that I’ll have plenty of time to be boring and no fun when I’m older. I don’t think I’m no fun, but my definition of fun is way different from there’s. My idea of fun is playing dnd, and playing board games, and playing video games, and reading books, and doing nerd shit. I don’t want to go get drunk with strangers at a frat house. I wanna be a nerd with other nerds because I think it’s fun. I don’t understand why they can’t just accept that I’m not extroverted and social like that. They also always give me shit for how I dress. I like sweaters, I like jeans, I like my comfy old boots. I like being comfy. I remember wearing a top with cleavage one day this summer and my step mother making a big deal out of it because she kept saying that she thought I was a prude. I don’t have a problem wearing clothes like that, but it just made me uncomfortable. I just wanna exist. I just want to be comfortable and a dork and not be given shit for it.

They also give me a hard time because I didn’t go to the same high school as his wife’s 2 boys and my sister. I went to a charter school and graduated from there because when I was little my parents noticed that I was bored in public school, so they wanted to find something to challenge me and it worked. I loved my school. I loved getting to take Latin, and Roman history, and advanced literature and history classes. I loved my art class, I loved the small class sizes, and I loved knowing everyone I went to school with. They give me a hard time because they said I didn’t have a real high school experience. I wouldn’t have enjoyed going to a regular public high school. I would’ve fucking hated it. They say I never got to have a real homecoming or a real prom, and that I never got to go to football games. I don’t care about football, and I did have a real prom and a real hoco and I loved going to them. They were fun, and I liked that we were a smaller school because it meant we could do more cool things than the bigger schools could. I just don’t understand why they’re so hell bent on trying to get me to be someone I’m not.

[meduthenitediaries]

Megan - III

Dear Diary,

Something strange happened today. Mrs. Rosewood told us that Meduthenite Syndrome is getting worse. People all over the world are getting sick, and it’s spreading fast. She said its a pandemic now, and today was our last day of in-person classes. We’re all going home with laptops, and our classes will be online until further notice. She said it would only be two weeks, but it might be longer. We knew this might happen. This is not what was strange, well not completely. What is strange is how everyone acted the whole day.

I stopped paying attention after that because I started to feel scared. During her talk, some kids kept looking back at me. Were they scared of me? Or just curious? Maddie and Alyssa wouldn’t even look at me.

I already sit away from everyone as it is, that just made it more obvious.

When Mrs. Rosewood continued with the lesson, I asked for the bathroom pass and cried in the stall. I don’t remember much of the day after that. When we got our laptops, I tried to say goodbye to my friends, but it was weird. They said they’d see me around and that two weeks would go quickly, but they seemed off, like they didn’t really want to talk.

They’ve been acting like that for a while now. When I think about it, I first noticed it on Valentine’s Day.

Valentine’s Day has always been one of my favorite days of the year. I always make my cards a few days before the holiday, making sure I have the perfect ones for everyone in my class, even the teacher. I loved picking out the cutest designs and spending hours adding stickers and writing little notes to make everyone feel special. I always made the best ones for Alyssa and Maddie because they’re my best friends! We give each other small gifts with our cards, like candy or friendship bracelets, and it makes me really happy! Plus, I bring in cookies that I make with my mom. We always bake heart-shaped cookies the night before. <3

This year, though, it was different. Valentine’s Day came a few weeks after I got sick, and I noticed something had changed. I still made cards for everyone in the class, and I still brought in the cookies. But when I started handing out my cards, something felt off. The smiles I got in return didn’t seem genuine, and people avoided looking me in the eye. It was like they were trying to be polite but wanted to keep their distance.

When I was done handing out cards, I went back to my desk and looked at the small pile of cards I received. There was one from Alyssa, one from Maddie, one from Mrs. Rosewood, and one from Tyler and Jordan. But they gave cards to everyone, so it didn’t feel special/

I thought there might be something wrong but tried not to dwell on it. The next few days were mostly normal, but now with today’s news, it feels like everything is changing, and I won’t even get to see them.

They sent us home with a letter to explain what’s going on to our parents. I know Mom spoke to the school a few times over the last few weeks about this possibly happening, so it won’t be a total surprise to her.

I set up my laptop while mom made dinner. She liked to cook on the few nights a week that we had dinner together. But when we sat down to eat, she had to take a call about a patient! I wanted to wait for her to eat but I know how those calls go. They always last longer than expected, and dinner gets cold. So I waited a few minutes before starting without her. When I was done, she was still on a call so I went to do my homework. She ate dinner on the couch after watching her show.

After my homework, I looked up  information about the pandemic because I was curious. There are almost 100,000 people sick with Meduthenite in 12 different countries. It sounds like a lot/ Almost 2,000 people have died from it already.

I already have a cough. Just the other day my throat started itching which makes the cough worse. 

I wish I wasn’t curious.

Bye,

Meg

[announzingforya]

vent rant

mAN why do i feel guilty

I had a really good day today, got shit done, yet I feel guilty over saying “please don’t call me best friend”. Just 6 simple words are making me feel guilty for, what, sticking up for myself? Saying I’m uncomfortable with being called that by someone I don’t really like??

Oh, yeah, and I hate two people whose names are similar to mine!! One’s a fucking homophobe AND transphobe, the other one I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. And they’re both Christians. Nothing bad about being Christian, but they’re the “get Jesus and repent” kind. Man, I don’t know if I have religious trauma or what but I actually despise religious talk. Makes me wanna cry. I was in elementary when I was first shamed for believing in no god. ELEMENTARY. I was younger. Less mature. Less understanding of the world. And yet a fucking adult shamed me for believing in what I wanted. A full grown adult.

And now I’m put into a school full of Christians. And I’m the probably only atheist here. There may be one more but I’m not sure. But I feel like the only one. Luckily, I know someone who respects people who are gay and is Christian and doesn’t pressure it onto me 24/7. Because I hate people like that. I hate the person sitting next to me in TSA because they believe that gayness and being trans is wrong.

I hate the people sitting at the table next to me in ela because they’re so stupid and so immature. I hate my classmates in gateway because they’re so stupid to the point where they don’t know what basic reproduction is. They’re so fucking stupid. I hate them so much. I hate them. I hate my health class because people don’t ever listen or do anything except one person, and the people to the right of where I sit, except for one person because she’s actually smart, just don’t care. They don’t care about others. I hate the person who sits a bit ahead of me in health because they think my anger is funny. I hate everyone and anyone who thinks my anger is genuinely amusing. I hate it when people say “I understand you” and yet they don’t.

I hate everyone who says that. I hate anyone who says basic, negative human emotions are funny. How would you feel??? How would you feel if you were angry and people were laughing at you? How would you feel if people were pressuring something on you that you don’t believe in? How would you feel, hm? How would you feel if you were so emotional to the point where you isolate yourself for hours on end without other people’s voices and touch while you have a breakdown? How would you feel? And be honest, people! How would you feel?

People don’t understand. They don’t understand my brain. How I function. Funny how the only person who’s super super close to me (aka my mom) doesn’t understand my feelings. And yet people who I don’t interact as much with, such as one of my friends who’s present online but also an irl friend, understands me more than anything. Funny how my online friends get me more than my parents. My mom doesn’t understand anything. She says she’s the same way and yet she’s not. She’s compared sitting and standing once, saying they’re the same thing. /srs

I think my mom’s dense because they are, in fact, nkt the same thing. And I hate when she says “would you do this in class?”, because, NO. I WOULD NOT. But I’m doing it here, because it’s a non-public space, and no one can see me but myself, my brother and you. And I hate my dad, too. I don’t like him. I love my parents, but I don’t like my dad too much. I hate him more than I love him. He doesn’t believe someone can go by they/them pronouns, and as someone who prefers it when people refer to me with they/them online and partially irl, it makes me want to sob. He makes me feel like I’m pressured to shave. He doesn’t let me have headphones or my tablet at the table because he wants to “have a family dinner / lunch”. I wish you weren’t my dad sometimes. Because I don’t like you.

I feel like I’m too emotional. I cry too easily. I get angry too easily. And it doesn’t make it easier that I pressure myself. I pressure myself to get stuff done sometimes. I hate this. I hate my brain. Why must I do this to myself. And the only way I can relieve this hatred and sadness is either keeping it to myself or talking to people online about it.

I hate this. And I’m starting to hate me.

[tenrousei-kuroi]

Well, I’m not surprised it’s Sirius/Regulus. I should’ve seen this coming🤣

I’ve asked about incest shipping because I see different reasons out there. Some people just like it for the forbidden love/taboo aspect, some have bad real life experiences, and it has always intrigued me how common it is to like stories that are “morally wrong” (dark romances are very popular, for example) and not see fiction tied to real life morality but drawing the line at this theme, not only for personal taste but also imputing a moral obligation to depict it as wrong. 

My first incest ship was accidental. It was Yuki/Kaname from a series called Vampire Knight. We only discover they’re siblings at certain point in the story, and even after people were condemning them together I just didn't care and still rooted for the author not to separate them (which was in vain 😅). Eventually I came across Siri/Reggie and from then on there was no going back. I think it particularly struck me because, specially for older works, there was this flowery and tragic aspect to many – if not most – stories shipping them, a fleeting happiness that frequently wouldn’t last long.

Similarly to what you said, I have a pretty normal and stable life and darker themes have always caught my attention. Strangely, I love sad and bittersweet endings, even if I’m attached to the character and actually feel bad for them – tragedy is just so much more intense than any portrait of happiness I’ve ever seen. I had access to pretty much anything I wanted to read or watch growing up. Mostly because I’m a naturally private person and the ‘smart, well-behaved daughter’, my parents never used to question me much, but to this day this aspect of my life is pretty much my dirty little secret (that I don’t even think it’s dirty, but I assume peoplesurrounding me wouldn't think the same).

Anyway, I wish I could personally thank Ann for getting you hooked on Sirius/Regulus and creating so much good content for the fandom (btw, could I get a link to Palimpsest? Sounds like it’s really good).

Oooo I remember Vampire Knight! It used to come serialized in ShojoBeat, a manga magazine I got back in middle school. I admit I didn't finish the series but I did get to the incest reveal. I have some pretty vivid memories of a hilarious "argument" my friend and I had in gym class over it (she's cool, she was just very easily embarrassed, so it was funny to tease her with her ship turning out to be incestuous).

I didn't have much of a reaction to the plot turn that they were siblings because I was too busy picturing Mr. Kaname getting it on with Zero ;)

Angel Sanctuary was another early incest story I came across. If it wasn't clear by my profile pictures literally everywhere online I've a bit of a fancy for Kaori Yuki's work.

A Cruel God Reigns by Moto Hagio is another good manga rec if you're looking for something a bit more...I dunno', classy? Award-worthy? "Serious"? Whatever you want to call it, if you haven't read it, you should check it out. It's scanlation only, though, unless you can read Japanese, because I don't think it was ever officially localized in the English market.

Here's a link to Palimpsest. I'd recommend downloading a copy quick now, because that's a web archive and who knows how long it'll be up. Actually all of the author's previous HP stuff is up on that archive page and it's all good.

(Can you tell I'm typing on my computer instead of my phone this time? Suddenly my punctuation and formatting are semi-competent.)

And speaking of everyone's favorite incestuous Black brothers, I've got to get myself in gear--I'm super behind. I've got like three fests I need to finish up! ...plus a whole lot of WIP's that I swear I am working on. They'll all be finished...one day.

Sirius/Regulus is so much more popular now than it was when I was a teen. Easier to find too. And James/Regulus has blown up in an almost unrecognizable way. I swear I don't even know who the characters are in half the Jegulus fics I read.

I wonder how long the inertia will last? I guess no matter what, I was there writing my pretentious nonsense long before that stuff got popular and I'll still be here long after everyone else gets bored and moves on <3

Ao3 could blow up tomorrow, and I'd probably just set up a Sirius/Regulus mailing list.

[notasilentk]

An Open Letter to Guillermo Del Toro With Regards to his Life-Like Statue of Mary Shelley

Or: A Modern Frankenstein

(Image from Guillermo Del Toro’s Twitter post wishing Mary Shelley a happy birthday.)

First off, hi there, Mr. Del Toro—love your work.

Secondly, what the hell, man? That’s—that’s just something you have?! In your home?? A life-size statue of Mary Shelley sitting at a writing desk looking mildly alarmed—as if Lord Byron just said the stupidest shit she ever heard or as if she just had the thought, “Oh you know what would be really fucked up?” and then decided to write it down. (Please excuse my run on sentences, it’s a terminal condition for which I have found no treatment.) I didn’t know you could just have things like that in your home! Granted I live in a small-ish apartment in the valley and so my imagination and vision is somewhat constrained by square footage and also my meager earnings as a currently out of work tv assistant moonlighting as a part-time bookseller. However, I acknowledge this is no excuse. Imagination is not hampered by constraints, but freed by it. She’s a wily fucking octopus problem solving the hell out of her cage and squeezing through the smallest of holes to exert her will and get her prize (delicious fish in other tanks at the aquarium).

Wait, where was I?

Oh yeah. Your Bleak House is magnificent. I’ve scoured over the photos I’ve found online. I must confess in so many ways I still feel like an entry level student to horror. I haven’t even seen all of your movies yet, Mr. Del Toro. I am working on it, though—so please excuse this easily distractible magpie mind of mine. I tend to flit and flop and flip between subjects at the random behest of whatever goblin is in control of my brain that week, day, hour, minute, etc. 

I think Crimson Peak is underrated though. I just wanted you to know—I really liked it. I wasn’t even supposed to see it the night that I saw it first. We were supposed to go to a haunted house attraction, but that didn’t work out and we ended up at the movie theater. I insisted on seeing a horror movie as a consolation prize for being deprived of my haunted house. What luck that it should be your film that was playing on that warm Arizona October night. 

So like. 

What are you gonna do with Mary Shelley when you die? 

Could I have her? Do you ever scooch her over and write at the desk she’s at? Do you talk out story ideas with her ever? I feel like I would, if I had a life size statue of a famous writer in my house. You have a lot of statues and figures and models—I imagine you talk to all of them in the fashion of how people converse with their pets or their plants. Or I could projecting—I don’t know you, even if you’ve shared so much of yourself with all of us.

But when I mean “Can I have Mary Shelley when you’re done with her?” I don’t mean personally—though I wouldn’t be so rude to turn down a personal gift.

I mean—could we have Bleak House? Los Angeles? The cinephiles? The apostles of the strange? You’ve opened it before—would you open it again for fans of horror and science fiction and fantasy to peruse your vast collection? Would you haunt its walls—if you had the chance? Where will you go, when you leave us, Mr. Del Toro? And what will you leave us, your fellow children of the macabre, raised on your ghost stories and tales of terror? You owe us nothing, of course. But we will take it all like vultures at the kill, thus is the way we treat our idols.

I have to confess—I was angry when I read Frankenstein that first time. I didn’t like it. 

Hear me out.

It was Ms. Yip’s sophomore language arts honors class. We had to do a book club, split into various small groups based on the book we chose to read from a curated list. I picked Frankenstein. I had just recently been introduced to Edgar Allen Poe by my creative writing teacher, Mr. Sable, and Frankenstein felt like a natural continuation of that line of instruction. Besides, I had always been interested in the spooky and the creepy and the macabre. Feed a child on a steady diet of Scooby Doo re-runs and tattered Goosebumps books and you are liable to produce a kid as obsessed with Halloween as I was—still am. 

So I picked Frankenstein and then I didn’t read it. I was busy. I had other things to do. I was a teenager and this was homework and I was always a fast reader anyway—“I’ll get it later, it’s fine,” I insisted. But then one day it was Sunday and our book club homework reading was due that Monday and I hadn’t read Frankenstein. Hadn’t cracked the spine, even. Oops. 

There was a little room, a bit of a nook—bit of a crawlspace with carpet and a light—above the stairs in my home. You had to use a ladder to get up into it. It was my library, where I kept all my childhood books and my growing manga collection. It was still kinda too warm to be up there—it didn’t get good air flow and the meager fan that fit up there did few favors against the unrelenting and indomitable Arizona summer that stretched long into what people insisted was “autumn.” Determined to knock this book out, though, I piled into the library and lounged across the pillows and ignored that it was just this side of too stuffy and settled into read a Great Horror Novel.

I had no appreciation for it. I was shocked and dismayed that the monster was neither green nor had little bolts in his neck to hook up to the lightning harnessing machine. At this point in my life I was mostly familiar with Frankenstein from this one movie called Alvin and the Chipmunks meet Frankenstein (I preferred the one where they met the Wolfman—I rewatched that one all the time as a kid) and also Mel Brook’s Young Frankenstein, which I watched on a fancy charter bus during either a school field trip or a Girl Scout’s trip—can’t remember which, but I do remember thinking, “I don’t know if this is technically age appropriate for us, but it rules.”

Also, this was homework and I resented doing homework. The book was nothing like I expected. Its language felt tedious to me, as did the language of all the books I had to read for class back then. Maybe that’s what drew me to poetry back then. All the poets seemed so much easier to understand. Contradictory maybe, but whatever I contain multitudes. Mostly I admit I was just a stupid teenager grabbing at whatever rebellion I safely could and rejecting the classics as stuffy and pretentious and difficult felt both safe and righteous. I was starved for rebellion, you see.

So I barreled through Frankenstein. And I got it. Victor was the monster, not the Creature. Nature vs nurture and all that. With great resentment I read the foundational text of science fiction and a seminal piece in horror as quickly as I could so I could go back to watching episodes of Doctor Who (New Who) and Buffy the Vampire Slayer—completely obtuse to the fact that both of these cheesy, emotional, thrilling, and delightful shows owe everything to Mary. I owed everything to Mary and I was too much of a spoiled child to even pay attention properly and appreciate that. But I finished the damn book.

I came in on Monday and discussed Frankenstein with my fellow students in our small group. It became apparent that not all of us had really read our books and we all kept that secret as much as we could. Ms. Yip didn’t even ask us that many questions about our books. There was no essay. There was no test. And I walked out of fourth period, off to lunch, with that knot of resentment growing in my stomach. I wasted a Sunday for nothing! I read Frankenstein for nothing!

I shelved my Penguin Classics copy with the boring brown cover and moved on with my life.

But Frankenstein stuck with me. It popped up, every now and then in my life. I stuck on allusions to it. I found quotes I recognized referenced on various blogs. I thought about it more and more. It haunted me.

I thought about this one quote in particular, which is not actually from the novel but from the 1994 film (though it certainly sums up what Mary was getting at and is so often misattributed to the novel that you must forgive me for being mistaken when I was saw it repeated online so much): “I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.” I was confused and angry all the time as a teenager. I was also infuriatingly idealistic. If I had been less idealistic, maybe I would have been less angry. Less furious with the world I was growing into and at myself for all my perceived faults and imperfections. I wanted to burn the world to the ground when I was young. I wanted to love the ashes.  

And I thought about Frankenstein more and more, as the months dragged on. Tenth grade turned to eleventh turned to twelfth turned to graduation and college and the world got bigger and bigger and scarier and scarier. All the while, the Creature and Victor lurked at the back of my mind. Mary lurked at the back of mind. I remember being 18 and 19 and thinking “I am as old as Mary was when she wrote that book I didn’t even want to read once I started reading it. I am as old as Mary was when she invented science fiction. What have I done? I haven’t even been cool enough to lose my virginity in a graveyard.” (My mother is, thankfully, still alive so I didn’t have the option of losing my virginity at her tombstone, I would’ve had to settle for a stranger’s grave.) I was a very regular 19-year-old of the American 21st century. It was the mid 2010s. Mostly, I made goofy short films and incomplete attempts at novels. I listened to Taylor Swift’s new pop album (I don’t know if Mary Shelley would have cared for her music) and mourned that My Chemical Romance had broken up (I think Mary Shelley would have liked them). To my great dismay I was lucky enough to be a perfectly ordinary teenager, Mr. Del Toro. I didn’t change the world, like Mary Shelley had. I just lived in it.

Anyway, I came to understand I was Victor and I was the Creature. I am the monster I make of myself. I am an experiment of my own design. We are all cobbling together the most ideal parts we can find in the wild and fitting them into ourselves to be better—whatever better is supposed to mean. We are all struggling to come to grips with the grotesque things in ourselves—out of shame, out of fear, out of guilt. 

We are all begging to be loved.

Once upon a time, I hated Frankenstein. I learned to love it. (I think love is a learned thing sometimes, don’t you? It is at once instinctual and a discipline.) Victor’s fault is often said to be that he could not learn to love unconditionally. He rejected his own Creature out of fear and people died for it. We all side with the monster now, don’t we? In the end the Creature won the PR battle. 

I wonder sometimes, about forgiving Victor for his sins. I wonder sometimes, about condemning the Creature for his wrath. Did he take it all too far? Pick the “he” you think I’m referring to. I think they both fucked up. I think that’s the point of it all. I think Mary looked at the world that made her, at the people that made her, and I think she was furious with them. (She dedicated Frankenstein to her father—TO HER FATHER, MR. DEL TORO.) Mary Shelley was a teenage girl—how could she not be furious? She was an octopus confined in a tank.

Do you think Mary Shelley ever got to see a live octopus? I hope she did. Everyone should behold an octopus at some point.

Hey Mr. Del Toro, do you think I could I forgive myself, for the monster I made of me? Should I? Do I need to? 

One last question:

Did Mary Shelley know that she would become Prometheus to us, Mr. Del Toro? 

--

link to original substack post:

[instituteslosttapes]

S̵̲͒t̸͇͊̍a̶͓͗͆͜t̶̢͙͌e̶̦͝m̸̖̽̚ĕ̸̟̞n̷̞̣̂̚t̵͍̮̓ ̸̘̚#̸̱͘1̴̨̏0̴̢̓9̷̡̤̓̕5̸̧̔͝8̶̭͈̈́

Tw:

*bugs

*things crawling under skin

Statement of Abigail Hersh. Regarding her time working with Associate Professor Alessio Giordano in the summer of 2014. Original statement given the 19th of January, 2014. Audio Recording by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus institute, London.

Statement begins

I was never a squeamish child, or a squeamish adult for that matter. Things like dirt, bugs, mold, hell even death never bothered me. As a child I used to keep track of all the roadkill I would see on the side of the road, sometimes I would even walk through the woods in the hopes of finding a decaying animal so that I could take its bones home and add them to my small collection that I had stashed in my closet so my mother wouldn’t find them. I would scour the shelves at my local library for books on taxidermy, embalming, all of the things that a well adjusted child such as myself would be interested in.

I started working with Professor Giordano in 2014 after completing my undergraduate degree in anthropology. I was excited to work with them, you see, my university was one of the few with a Dermestid lab on site and I had always wanted to see them work up close, so when Professor Giordano offered me a temporary position in their lab for the summer I couldn’t pass it up. Now, I wish I had though. My job was simple, I was to keep track of what the Dermestids currently had in their tank and make sure that I swapped them out with something else so that the Dermestids didn’t start to eat the bones. It was easy, and fascinating. I didn’t see a lot of Professor Giordano while I worked there, which I didn’t think was that odd. I had never seen much of Professor Giordano even when I was taking one of their classes. You see it was online and they had only ever reached out to me in email. I saw Professor Giordano once, but never saw their face. They had directed me to where I was going to be working and instructed me on a few things all with their back turned to me. Which wasn’t that much of a red flag, I have anxiety too and sometimes it's hard for me to make eye contact with people so I just assumed that they were extremely socially awkward which didn’t bother me.

I only saw Professor Giordano a few times after that, it was usually in passing when I was coming in to start my shift and they would quickly shuffle into their office at the back of the lab and shut the door behind them. The work was actually quite boring, I would spend most of my time scrolling on my phone or applying for Master programs on my computer, occasionally taking breaks to watch the Dermestids work. They are fascinating creatures, they will eat all of the skin, meat, muscles and tendons left on bones until they are perfectly clean and ready to be bleached. The job was fine, I liked it and it was a good way to make a little bit of money and I didn’t really get any grief from Professor Giordano for being on my phone or things like that. So many people would have killed to have the type of job I did, even my friends told me so. I wish one of them had gotten it instead of me. I know that sounds awful to say but If you had seen what I had you would understand! You would get why I would have rather had it been anyone but me.

Professor Giordano had sent me home early one day, they said that they had an emergency to attend to and that they couldn’t leave me alone in the lab so I had to pack up my things and go home. They looked like they were in a rush so I tried my best to get all of my things together quickly and get out of there… It wasn't until later that I realized I had left my laptop behind and I had to go back and get it. I was working on my application for my masters degree and the deadline was for that next morning so I had no choice but to hope that the doors were still unlocked and I would be able to go back and get it. I went back as soon as I had noticed it was missing, by then it was almost five o’clock and most of the staff had left the buildings already. I went directly to the lab, there were still some of the other professors there so I didn’t really rouse any suspicions as I walked towards the Demestrids lab. It was dark in there when I finally got there, and at first I didn’t think that the door would be unlocked but I tried it, and to my surprise it was so I went inside and that's when I saw it. I saw Professor Giordano, at least… what I thought was Professor Giordano, it- it looked like them, but it couldn’t have actually been them. P-people don’t… People don’t look like that. They were missing an eye and there were holes and- and abscesses all over their face and I swear to God that I could see something moving under their skin. I tried to speak, I tried to ask them if they were okay, if they needed help or needed me to call for an ambulance but they didn’t say anything. They opened their mouth and a thousand of those… those beetles poured out of their mouth and began to come towards me.

Before I knew it they were scuttling up my legs, under my clothing and I could feel them biting me. I screamed and thrashed as Professor Giordano or… or whatever they were started coming towards me. Limbs jerking and body twitching as if they were controlled by something other than themselves. Almost like they were possessed. I think at some point I passed out, because when I woke up I was alone again, Professor Giordano wasn’t there and when I looked at myself I was completely unharmed… There were no bugs and the beetles in the lab were still in their dedicated cases. I grabbed my laptop and ran out of there. I never went back.

I'm sorry about the blood… I just can’t stop scratching.

Statement ends

We attempted to contact Ms. Hersh for a follow up statement but were unsuccessful. We did confirm however that an Alessio Giordano did indeed work at the state university in the years which Ms. Hersh attended, but is no longer employed there and we can’t find any other trace of them since then. It appears as if they have disappeared.

Recording ends.

[muertarte]

PARTIES: @vanishingreyes @muertarte

TIMING: Current

SUMMARY: Xóchitl visits Metzli so they can talk. It actually goes very well.

WARNINGS: References to past Emotional Abuse and Physical Abuse, Self Harm, Reference to past child death

It wasn’t like it was easy to be away from the people they loved. Only a day had passed and loneliness crept in like a bedtime monster crawling from one side of the room to the next, and Metzli was a child firmly grasping their blanket over their eyes until the nightmare ended. It was all for naught. The scraping against their head became a cacophony, several monsters joining in on the torment. It grew louder, it grew noisy, grew until Metzli’s eardrums couldn’t decipher what was real and what was a figment of their pain-riddled mind. 

They wished they could sleep, but deep down the vampire began to gather all the reasons why their own kind functioned in that manner. Maybe there was no room for such an easy escape when you were a killing machine. Eloy had decommissioned Metzli’s heart, leaving the thoughts of remorse too far away to reach. A sleep they could find without ever closing their eyes. But now? Their heart bent at the very sight of their hand. Contrition etched itself like braille into Metzli’s bones, so that anytime they pressed their arm around themself in defeat, they could feel the guilt more closely. Maybe, Metzli thought, that was the fate they deserved, tracing their wrongs with chalk like the bodies they left in their bloody wake. 

The painful well of sorrow came for them then, threatening to swallow them whole. It was overwhelming, needles sinking into Metzli’s skin harshly until they whimpered and rocked back and forth. It was a loop they couldn’t escape, and they wouldn’t try to, knowing their place. They got their chance at a life decades ago. It was time for penance. Time for—

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Metzli blinked, looking at the door tiredly as they rose from their seat. Metal whispered against the ground, quietly shrill as they made their way to the door. It had to be Xóchitl, didn’t it? She was the only one they’d told about the shed. They waited for her to announce herself, not wanting to give away that someone took residence in the small building in case it was a stranger outside.

She’d especially trained herself to not care too much about others. Caring made inevitable losses that much harder. However, Xóchitl had come to realize that, apparently, icing the whole world out didn’t really work out. Must have been something about humans craving connection or whatever. Something she’d read about in a psychology class. Regardless, there was something about Metzli’s sudden descent into self-sabotaging behavior that didn’t sit right with her. 

It was true, she hardly knew them, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t become somewhat invested in whatever was going on. Even if part of it was rooted in pure curiosity. However, they’d asked her before if they could talk to her sometime, and even if they seemed to regret that now, for whatever combination of reasons, she’d had at least a few stubborn streaks throughout her life, and Metzli just happened to have caught themself in the midst of one. 

At least, that was what she told herself. Xóchitl couldn’t have become fond of someone after the barest of online interactions, could she? But regardless, she drove herself to the place they’d told her to meet, bags of sweets (that she’d still insist she didn’t like) in her purse, as well as a few bottles of water, because hydration was important, or something.

She knocked on the door, three times, before she thought she could hear the faintest of sounds of movement inside. “It’s Xóchitl,” she began, before quickly switching to Spanish – something that they both were more comfortable with. “If you’re Metzli, I’d really like to talk to you, and if you’ll let me in, I promise to stay in a corner or something and not look at you unless you want me to.”

So, it was her. The woman—the doctor, she’d told them. Who had two moms, had roots in Mexico, and wanted to help. Metzli hovered their hand over one of the several locks on the door. It trembled as they hesitated, the possible repercussions holding Metzli back. They shook their head and took a few steps back, chest squeezing with guilt and doubt. How was it that they had been able to be as soft as an angel, hiding the violence and ice within them? Metzli was a dangerous thing, and things like that had to be put away. 

“You-you have to stay outside!” They spoke in their native tongue, “I told you it is not safe. It’s not safe. It’s not safe. It’s not safe.” Falling into a panicked pattern, Metzli paced, raking a hand through their dark forest of curls. How was it that their lungs were greedy for air when they no longer served a purpose? Somehow, Metzli continued to struggle with the function, gasping for it as tears burned at the edges of their eyes. 

They could hear something that wasn’t quite there, all in their head. Ghosts of the past rising from their graves. Metzli heard Eloy’s voice become a thundering roar, rumbling at the back of their head. A whimper escaped them, pitiful and pleading, their hope urging the man to go away. It was no use. His voice deepened, layering over itself into a cacophony that bristled back of Metzli’s neck. 

“Maybe this is a bad idea.” They sobbed, needles digging further into their nerves. “Maybe you should go.”

“Okay, okay – I’ll stay,” she paused, “stay outside, I mean.” Xóchitl didn’t especially like this development, but Metzli was letting her stay here, which was something of a win, at least. Not much, not much of anything, really, but it was still something. “I’m sorry. You did say that. I’m sorry I didn’t value your words. I do now.” After all, this had all resulted from someone from Metzli’s past not honoring their independence. 

Xóchitl would have hated to be that sort of person. “It’s not a bad idea, and I’m not leaving. I’ll stay outside, I’ll honor that, but it’s not bad. You’re not bad.” She wasn’t sure if that was a step too far, but she maintained an even tone, hand pressed against the locked door. “My hand’s on the door. If you want to put yours on the other side, I can try to guide you through some breathing. I could also continue to tell you that you are good, but I don’t want this to turn into a fight. I want to honor your feelings.”

That much, she did. She hadn’t had her thoughts honored at multiple points throughout her life, and she wasn’t going to do that to someone else. “The sky out here’s really beautiful, though. The night’s a bit humid, but not too much. You can almost taste the warmth? If that makes sense…” Xóchitl let her voice trail off. “What’s your favorite season, Metzli? I don’t know that I ever asked.”

People were so kind lately. For a while, really. Ever since Honey saved Metzli from Los Sombras, they’ve met countless people. So many of which had offered ounces of kindness without hesitation. It was something that overwhelmed them at first. Sent them panicking and pacing because they didn’t quite understand what they did to deserve such treatment. Metzli could count on one hand—well, their only hand—how many times Eloy had praised them and given them a reward. 

Metzli supposed they just needed to get better, conform and be the best soldier their master needed. Maybe then, they’d get respect and even enjoy their time in their new life. It worked, for a little while. Their punishments came few and far in between for several months, many of the other fledglings either in awe or envious of them. The numbness helped, if Metzli were honest. Having nothing and being nothing meant the little sparks meant everything. The flint could be anything too. Even something as simple as not getting a look on any given day. That was happiness. Being nothing. So much so that you weren’t seen, heard, or felt. 

That’s how monsters were supposed to exist.

“Yes. Maybe…maybe breathing will help.” Their pacing died down after a few beats, and they settled onto the floor, next to the entrance. Metzli could hear Xóchitl’s hand lightly thump against the door, and they found that they liked the idea of contact without any physicality. “Please do not lie to me. I do not want to hear about being good. I am…not.” 

With a sigh, Metzli closed their eyes and listened for Xóchitl’s breathing instructions, the chain around their wrist rattling as they placed their palm on the door. “I like…autumn. All the leaves…” They trailed off, imagining the trees shedding their colors, the floor catching them in small collections. “The leaves are very pretty.” Even just thinking about them made their mind settle, made it easier to breathe. “The colors are calm. Not too bright. And it’s…colder. It’s…peaceful. It is most peaceful in a pile of the leaves. I laid in one once. But…only once.” They weren’t allowed out much, and Metzli was often too scared to try. “The leaves have a very crisp sound when you step on them too. I like it a lot.”

Metzli wondered if Xóchitl liked the sound too, or if she paid enough attention to know it intimately like them. They figured she might. She seemed observant like them. If only to satisfy someone’s urge to see them happy. Xóchitl seemed the type to do that. She was kind. 

“If nothing else, breathing won’t hurt you, at least.” Which Xóchitl hoped was true, and would hold up being true, because messing up stuff for Metzli wouldn’t be any sort of good, not ever, but especially not when she’d pestered them to let her help. She wanted to tell them that it wasn’t a lie, but bit hard against her tongue. Now wasn’t the time to fight about that. “I don’t lie about things like this, but I respect you, and so I won’t say that again right now.”

Their description of fall brought Xóchitl back to her childhood, nearly. The vivid way she could picture it was extraordinary, was something that most assuredly showed what a brilliant artist Metzli was. “The colors are almost muted, in a way? Instead of being bright and loud like they are in some other seasons. I think you should lay in a pile of leaves this fall. You can do it out in the forest, if you want.” She didn’t let herself say ‘in case you’re still here’ because she was determined to make that not the case. “I love the sound they make when you step on them.” Pausing a moment, before she added. “Have you tried it with different kinds of shoes? When I was tiny, I liked the sound they made under my shoes that had little buckles most of all. Now, I like them under my boots. Do you have a favorite shoe and leaf combination?” She pressed the palm of her hand against the door. “I think fall’s my favorite season too. Summer’s so bright, but sometimes I like the heat. But fall is ideal. I think. I was born in the winter, but that’s not my favorite. Do you have a favorite fall smell? I’ll admit I’m partial to cinnamon.”

Metzli let out a choked sigh, almost able to smile at the way Xóchitl described stepping on the leaves. She really seemed to understand, to enjoy the subtle nuances everyone seemed to ignore. Or maybe the surroundings made it impossible to find those hidden tones. People like Metzli and Xóchitl didn’t like loud, did they? Was she just like them? That didn’t seem the case, not to them. She was far more inviting and warm, and…Metzli removed their hand from the door and tugged at their hair. 

And she wasn’t a monster.

“Have not tried it with different shoes, no. But…I tried stepping on them with bare feet. I liked the feeling. It was…” A memory of Metzli’s tía Yadira flashed behind their eyes, and they smiled, genuinely. She had been raking the leaves, and Metzli had just finished their chores. They jumped into the pile and smashed every leaf they could beneath their bare feet. Yadira’s laughter sounded like it bounced on the walls, as if the memory was playing on a speaker. When Metzli opened their eyes and looked around, they could see they were still alone. 

Right. How it’s supposed to be.

“Hm?” Metzli looked back toward the door, placing their hand back in place. They loved cinnamon too. “That is my favorite as well. Especially in champurrado. My aunt made the best in town.” A grin began to tug on Metzli’s cheeks as they recalled the memory, thinking it to be long gone in the void at the back of their kind. One could almost hear the way they smiled despite their tone remaining dry. “She would always sneak me an extra cup and send me home with fresh bread.” But that was the past, they frowned. 

Before they were a monster. 

“Maybe you should go. I need to be alone.”

“Oh, I’ve never tried bare feet,” Xóchitl responded, “I can imagine that must have added to it being an enjoyable feeling, really getting to experience that in full.” Even if this wasn’t what she’d fully planned to discuss here, with Metzli, it was getting them to talk. Which was the most important, in the end. “It’s also not too loud. I can deal with loud sometimes, but most of the time it’s too much. Makes me jumpy.” Not that whatever had killed Mackenzie had been so loud, but still. She didn’t take pride in her panic, but the fact that it existed was undeniable, and if she could use it to help Metzli this time, then maybe it would’ve proven itself to be of some sort of use. 

“Well now you have me craving champurrado. Do you know how to make it? I bet your aunt made the best.” Xóchitl sighed. “My aunt makes great Hojarascas – I can have her send me some, if you’d ever like to try those.” She smiled at the memory they mentioned, though her smile was tinged with a certain sense of sorrow. “Isn’t fresh bread the best?”

Except then they were saying she should go. “I’d prefer not to. I can be quiet, if you need that. I like the conversation we’re having. Did you say you’re good at cooking? I’m… decent, but not great. I’d love to learn more, though.”

It was hard to focus, listen to the way Xóchitl’s words formed a question with a sweet and gentle lilt. There was a darker, far more sinister whisper gnawing like teeth at the back of Metzli’s mind. It was deep and sharply defined, threatening to break the vampire while they rocked back and forth. They struggled to answer Xóchitl’s question, a strangled “Y-yes,” managing to finally tumble out. “I can. She taught me. But-but she’s dead now. She’s dead.” Eloy and his clan, the very one Metzli had been a part of, had taken her, along with her family. 

The thought made Metzli’s stomach twist with nausea, and their eyes burn with tears of sorrow. They began to sob, something built with the thorns of agony crashing from deep within them, grating against their lungs with each breath. ‘Dead’ became a chant, panicked and growing louder. 

Everyone from that town was dead. Everyone died at the hands of monsters. Everyone suffered because of exactly what Metzli was. Maybe a few others had been changed with them, but they were the only one that had managed to stick it out, survive Eloy’s reign. What did that say about them? How ugly did that make their monster? Metzli wasn’t sure, and they were even less sure if they could be alone with it in that damn prison, while their mind made their body feel like it was being pulled in every direction.

In an act of desperation, Metzli rushed to the locks at the door. The clanked and clattered, hand unable to move fast enough so they could get to the weight they were after. Metzli continued to chant the word, unable to break the pattern their mind had chosen. “Dead…dead…” Their voice was frantic and breathless, the last lock coming undone. Metzli opened the door with a powerful swing, an attempt to walk forward into an embrace thwarted by the restraints. That was the straw that broke it all, sending the vampire to the ground as they hugged their knees. “Go. Go. Go…” They shouldn’t have opened the door. They broke their own rule, and for what? Comfort they didn’t even deserve?

Pathetic.

“I’m sorry she’s dead.” Xóchitl certainly hadn’t gone into this expecting that, nor the next thing that came out. “My best friend died when I was eight. I blamed myself – still do. But – well, I still think she’s with me. Don’t know how much I believe about heaven or whatever, but I love her, unconditionally, and we were the best friends in the world, so I like to think somehow, part of her’s still with me.” Which was all the more reason as to why she needed to find out what had happened, all those years ago.

For now, though, she’d focus on Metzli. On someone she found her heart aching for despite the fact that she really didn’t know them at all. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling for Xóchitl, nor one that she entirely wanted to accept, but it was here, and now wasn’t the time for her to focus on herself. If she wanted attention all to herself, she could go by a bar after this and find someone to go home with.

She heard locks coming undone, and looked quizzically at the door, before it opened, revealing Metzli, who quickly collapsed to the ground. “Hey, hey,” Xóchitl went to kneel near them. “It’s good to see you.” Keeping her voice as quiet, gentle, and even as possible, she stretched out her legs, grabbing her bag and pulling out the bag of candy she had. “I’m really in the mood for some of this.” She took one out, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. “You’re welcome to them.” She didn’t want to reach out to offer a comforting touch, not yet – they seemed too jumpy, too much like they could slam the door just then and then it’d all go back to whatever was significantly before square one. “I used to do that, too,” she nodded towards their position, “made me feel safer, like I could just fold into myself. I’ve fallen asleep like that before.”

Everyone had lost someone at some point in their lives. That was a fact of existence, the way time turned. Metzli knew this, and yet, it was painful to know it had happened to Xóchitl so young, at a formative time. That’s how it worked when you knew someone. Empathy grew like a line that tethered you, heart to heart. 

Maybe, Metzli thought, that’s where the saying came from. You only had those sorts of conversations with people you had connected with, and that’s exactly what Xóchitl had set out to do, venturing out there. She had put her heart in between them, not knowing the outcome, placing hope above all else because she believed in what she did. She believed in making people feel better, valuing their words and heeding them. Even strangers she’d only spoken with a handful of times on the internet.

Metzli’s eyes met with hers for a moment, the brief instance already too much. They settled on her shoulder, then onto the treats Xóchitl had brought for them to share. There was no denying it then; she was one of those people you could trust easily, the air around them inviting and warm. It was enticing enough for Metzli to let their knees go, mirroring the position Xóchitl was in. 

Their hand settled onto their half-limb, fingers massaging the needles away from their skin. “I am sorry. Y-your friend. Some-sometimes I think the same thing. Like-like you said.” Metzli scooted closer, the millions of pins tugging at every nerve. “People stay. They stay and they-they can be good or bad. They stay but-but-but…” They began to rock themself, “All that stays with me is bad. It’s all so bad. So bad. Like him. Him. And it-it makes me bad.” The needles became too much, and with no weighted blanket around to make them go away, Metzli shakily scooted closer, hoping to sink into their new friend. 

Pathetic. Wrong. They did it anyway. 

“I-I don’t want to be bad.” 

She watched them as they copied the position she was sitting in. Xóchitl refrained from showing any sort of significant reaction other than a simple nod and a gentle smile. Nothing too much more, because she had a sneaking suspicion that anything overly sudden or unexpected would only result in whatever slim progress that had been made thus far completely falling apart.

“It’s okay – I appreciate your compassion – but yes. I think she’s still here,” she showed Metzli her ankle, the one with the laurel branch tattoo on it. If they already knew about her friend, there was not much use in hiding something like this, especially given that it seemed to be working in getting Metzli to talk about themself. Xóchitl nodded, “Because you were around him for so long, maybe. But now – now you’re here, with good people – you have people who love you, and that can outweigh the bad, I think. Bring more good, so the good feels like it’s what sticks with you.” 

She remained still as they moved closer to her, before wrapping her arms around them, hands finding their hair, fingers running through it. It wasn’t much, but she hoped that it would show them that she was here, and that they deserved comfort, even if they had a hard time taking to it themself. She pressed her lips against their hair, much like her mothers had done to her any countless number of times, whenever she woke up screaming from a nightmare. “That wish alone proves you aren’t bad. Bad people don’t care about if they’re bad or not. So see. You? You’re good.” Her fingers remained in their hair, and she used her other hand to rub their back, hoping that maybe, just possibly, this would do something to help them calm down, even if only a little.

“You’re good and you’re loved and you’ll figure this out.”