#and be careful not to alienate your own community members

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

When you insult someone by calling them being jobless, you’re saying unemployment is shameful.

When you insult someone by saying they live with their parents, you’re saying being unable to move out is shameful.

When you insult someone by saying they’re not dating/a virgin, you’re saying that not pursuing sex or romance is shameful.

When you insult someone by calling them socially awkward, you’re saying that not reading social cues is shameful.

Your insults may or may not reach the bigoted person you’re trying to hurt, but they will reach vulnerable people who listen to you. The reason those insults work is because our society stigmatizes being disabled, celibate or queer, or impoverished. Stop and think: do you want to reinforce that stigma? Do you want to tell the people you care about that you think they’re lazy, or incompetent, or bigoted because they can’t get a job or date or speak “properly”?

Because they will hear you. And so will everyone else listening.

Hey guys did you know that when someone does something bigoted or inappropriate, you can address that without also shaming them for stuff like "living with their parents", "not having a job", "not dating" or "being socially awkward"?

[genderqueerdykes]

you can tell who's actually a part of the lesbian and dyke community and who sits on the sidelines and tries to define these entire identities based off of their own speculation as an outsider. i'm not saying these people aren't lesbians- but when you refuse to actually interact with the broader dyke community outside of your tiny insulated echo-chamber, you are actively refusing to acknowledge how the lesbian community actually functions and behaves

people who think that lesbianism is all about femmes and women are people who refuse to immerse themselves in real lesbian and dyke spaces. masculinity has ALWAYS been a part of lesbianism. there is NO point in queer history where masculinity HASN'T been a big part of the dyke experience. boydykes, studs, bois, bulldykes, male lesbians, ftm lesbians, daddy dykes, testo butches, genderfluid dykes, multigender dykes, masculine agender lesbians, transmasc dykes... these people have ALWAYS been in the lesbian community.

if you believe that lesbianism is strictly about femmes and butches who water down their butchness to mean "androgynous/SLIGHTLY masc woman" for the "safety" of femmes, you have no clue what the lesbian community is actually like and i encourage you to explore the community as a whole, because if you can't handle butches, testo dykes, transmasc lesbians, male lesbians, lesboys, guydykes, studs, bois, bulldykes or any other type of masculine lesbian, you don't belong.

interact with real dykes and lesbians and you'll see masculinity is a permanent, inseparable part of the dyke community. you can't only accept the lesbians you personally like. you also have to accept the ones with identities you don't understand or agree with. you don't have to date butches and male lesbians if you don't want to. you have the right to be attracted to who you're attracted to. but the second you try to exclude these people based off of your own personal tastes, you are committing a grave misdeed to this community by actively participating in the silencing and alienation of masc and male dykes.

you drank the radfem kool aid if you genuinely believe this. this belief stems from the "lesbian separatism movement" in the American 1980s which specifically started to remove butches and transmasc lesbians from the community. if you seriously believe lesbianism is about "EWW NO MEN MEN DNI", hiding from men, hating men, forming "women and non binary spaces only", excluding men and mascs, shaming butches who want top surgery and testosterone, you are not a lesbian: you are a terf, and a radfem. your beliefs don't line up with the real lesbian and dyke communities. you have been brainwashed. this is your sign to wake up.

we aren't standing for this bullshit anymore. we've always been here and your "lesbian means non-men loving non-men" definition of lesbianism is the least historically accurate definition of these terms that you could ever possibly ascribe to them. that definition is factually incorrect and will never be the proper definition. stop defining lesbianism by who we exclude and start defining it by the vast and varied members of our community that we include. our lives depend on it. i don't care if you're not personally attracted to lesboys and testo butches- we belong. it's not about who you're personally attracted to, it's about who feels sapphic, who feels like a lesbian, who feels like a dyke, no matter how they identify. you are not the protagonist of the lesbian community. let go and learn to accept.

[pinkanonwrites]

HANDS-ON LEARNING

Read 'Handle With Care' here!

Rodimus/Human Reader, NSFW, First Contact AU, AFAB Reader, GN Pronouns, G/T, Experimental Sex, Fingering, Oral (Receiving)

Since this is a First Contact fic, dialogue that is both bold and italicized are words that both the reader and Rodimus understand.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Of all the ideas you'd had over the course of your life, this had to be one of the worst.

Granted, it wasn't as bad as trying to follow the blinking light into the woods after your car broke down, only to end up abducted by aliens. But it was pretty high up there.

But between said abduction and your ensuing rescue by the gigantic alien robots and the spaceship they called home, you hadn't exactly had a lot of time to yourself. And after days melted into weeks and you eventually began to lose track of how long it had been since you had been plucked from Earth, you were starting to get a little… wound up.

Most days were spent in between the massive metal fingers of a robot that you were pretty sure was named Rodimus as he shuttled you from room to room and presented you to his fellow crew members like a first-grader showing off their new pet hamster. But despite the glaring communication barrier and the ever-present threat of being squashed under foot, Rodimus was very careful with you. He made sure you were safe and comfortable, never picked you up without letting you know ahead of time, and did his best to communicate simple thoughts and ideas with you through hilarious, size-difference charades. It could be a little awkward sometimes, but he was nice! It was nice.

And then, about a week ago, Rodimus accidentally made you cum so hard you almost blacked out. And you couldn't stop thinking about it.

But honestly, how were you supposed to stop thinking about it? Sure, it was an accident, (or you were pretty sure it was, at least. Giant robot charades isn't always a perfect system) but it was an accident that refused to leave your mind. When Rodimus would lay on his big slab of metal to sleep, or recharge his batteries, or whatever it was that giant robots did at bedtime, you'd be lying awake in the little habitat he'd built for you out of his desk craving the sensation of sitting on the world's best and most attentive washing machine and letting the vibrations spark stars behind your eyelids.

So maybe it was a bit stupid, and horny, and frankly desperate to search out that feeling again from a guy four times your size who could crush you in his hand like a grape if he ever wanted to. But God damn if it wouldn't be worth it.

So that's how you found yourself in the position you are now. Naked, sprawled back against the surface of the desk with one of Rodimus's massive hands cradling your upper body, and a giant finger from the other tracing up the inner curve of your thigh. He seemed almost enchanted by the way your goosebumps rippled to the surface beneath his touch, letting out a pleased, mechanical warble.

He seemed to adore your softness compared to the rigid metal of his own skin, as Rodimus liked to squish you quite a bit. Never enough to hurt, just enough to feel the warm press of your skin between the joints of his fingers and hands, or to drag a curious fingertip down your cheek. But there was a particular meekness with the way he touched you right now, like he was only just realizing how easy it would be for him to hurt you. It was painfully sweet, and if you weren't absolutely aching for something more right now you may have been content to let him continue his gentle fondling.

"C'mon, big guy." You murmured instead, resting your hand around his wrist and pulling him up closer to the apex of your thighs. He let out a soft, surprised revving sound at your boldness, glancing at your face a few times before finally pressing the top of his finger up between your thighs, lying flush against your folds. If you had to compare the sensation, you'd say the feeling of leaning a little too far forward on a motorcycle seat was similar. It was warm, rumbling, pressing up against all the right places, but not quite enough to get you anywhere you really wanted. Still, you couldn't stifle your shaky moan, and that seemed to really get him going.

"Yes?..." He all but purred, one of the few words you had actually managed to learn between the two of you. The pointed chevron of his brow seemed to quirk up a bit on one side as he glanced down at his thick finger between your legs before back up to your gaze.

"Yes. It's good, I just… want more." You knew he couldn't understand your words, but the slow roll of your hips and the slick coating of your arousal over his knuckle seemed to get the message across just fine. He rocked his finger up against you, wet with your drooling heat as the jut of the joint slid up and over your clit again, and again, and again. Still slow, yes, but almost painfully good. Your hips jerked towards the sensation and he cooed, engine rumbling louder to course vibrations up through your aching cunt.

He murmured your name, or the best that he could approximate in his echoey, mechanical trill. From the hand cradling your upper body his massive thumb slid forward, dragging along the curve of your jaw and down to the jut of your collarbone with a delicate curiosity. Panting, you let yourself melt into his touch, rolling your hips against his other hand and shuddering at every other press that seemed to hit just the right spot. Fuck, this was good. Better than good, you felt like your brain was going to melt out of your ears, molten heat pooling low in your stomach as a pleasant buzz of arousal seemed to crawl through your muscles and out to the tips of your fingers and toes. It was probably way too early to be cumming, but you'd been pent-up for far too long already and the relentless vibrations only pushed you higher and higher, a rubber band threatening to snap as you gasped and shuddered and tossed your head back against Rodimus's enormous metal palm.

It was all you could do to keep your feet from kicking out as your orgasm washed over you, the aching clench of your cunt around nothing making you whine as his fingers slowed to a lazy, comfortable stroking. You blinked blearily up at him, a look of incredibly sly pride on his face as you went limp and content in his palm.

"Fuck, Rodimus." You groaned. It startled you, the sheer volume of his engine's snarl in response to your simple, fucked-out sigh of his name. But more surprising was the sudden press of two blunt fingers against your messy hole, slippery with your own arousal as they tried to work their way into you. "W-Wait! Rodimus, fuck, it's not gonna fi-MMGH!?"

With a wet pop, the tips of his two massive fingers slipped into your still-twitching cunt, stretching you wider than you'd ever been before. Even one of his fingers was more than big enough for you, but he somehow fit two? Your entire body trembled as you flopped back, slave to the impossible stretch and press of unrelenting metal against your most sensitive spots. Whimpers and groans were forced from your body with each minute flex and press of his fingers deeper, deeper, scraping spots you could never reach with your own two hands and stuffing you so full you felt like you couldn't breathe in properly. The heat that had only just receded was building again, impossibly quick, a tingling jolt underneath your skin that made the muscles of your legs twitch and kick outside of your own control as your mind struggled between spearing yourself further on this impossible stretch or wriggling helplessly away.

He was talking again, an incomprehensible clutter of mechanized boops and whirrs that you only barely managed to process in your pleasure-drunk mind. Then, with a sudden rush of motion and swoop of your stomach with the G-force, you were cradled off of the table with his free hand and held up to his face. There was a glow to his cheeks, a bead of liquid trailing down the side of his helmet as he gazed down at you. Robots could blush? And sweat? Apparently this one could, a gush of warm heat rolling over your body as he huffed, mouth hanging slightly open. Behind his giant teeth you could see a peek of a silver-grey tongue, a rippling smooth expanse of rubber and metal-mesh that crept towards you until Rodimus dragged it oh-so-carefully up the length of your cunt.

"FUCK!" You wailed, hands scrabbling for purchase against the joints and bends of Rodimus's hand as he swept his massive tongue between your folds. He let out a low, growling groan at the taste, burying his face between your thighs as he stroked and massaged your pulsing clit with the tip of his tongue. His fingers kept working, curling up towards your stomach on each thrust as you sobbed, abandoning your grip on his hand to clutch to the yellow chevron on his brow like your life depended on it. Your head was swimming, buzzing so intensely with heat that you could barely form a thought beyond the deep, impending well of your next orgasm. It pulsed from so deeply within you, a relentless wall of pleasure rushing towards you faster than you could prepare yourself for. All you could do was cling desperately to Rodimus's brow and hold on for the ride, sobbing and gasping and shivering as it crept ever higher, warmth blossoming out from your cunt and crawling across your shaky frame as pleasure exploded behind your eyelids. You wailed his name again, barely comprehensible, as each press of his fingers forced a gush of slick from your quivering hole and spattered into his giant palm. As quickly as it came his tongue swept it gently away, fingers slowing and letting out a low, melodic hum as your wails and moans trailed off into soft, sniffly whimpers. Finally, finally, after what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a minute at most, he began to lower you carefully back down onto the desk, thumb rubbing a tear from your cheek as he pulled his fingers from your puffy, overworked cunt.

He cooed your name again, cradling your body in both palms. "Good?" He murmured, warmth from his metal palms seeping directly into your sweaty skin and aching muscles. You heaved another shaky breath, unable to form words so you instead shot the giant mech a wavering thumbs-up. In any other scenario that may have been a cripplingly embarrassing response to what was possibly the best orgasm of your life, but it pulled a beaming smile to Rodimus's face regardless.

In a few minutes the tacky feel of slick and sweat and robot saliva drying on your skin would begin to border on intolerable, and you knew you'd eventually have to rise to fawn-like legs and stumble to clean yourself up. But for now you were more than happy to lay sprawled in your giant companion's grasp.

Hell, maybe he'd even help you take a bath, too. After all, it's not like you had anything left to hide.

[yarrayora]

i like how falin being a maiden to be saved, a reward to be coveted, isn't a point to criticize in dungeon meshi. because we have various other female characters who are written as having their own agency

we have marcille, of course, whose story can be observed since chapter 1. how she's not depicted as the "girl team member" but "part of the team". when you're writing a protagonist group where there's only one female character among the male cast, you can always feel this sense of alienation in the writing, like she doesn't belong in the group as the story focuses on the rest of the boys. the way masashi kishimoto writes team 7 is a major example

but marcille is still allowed to be a "typical girl" who doesn't want to eat gross things and enjoy feminine clothing without forgetting the fact that she's a multifaceted person. she's a researcher who isn't afraid to get dirty when it's something relevant to magic and her goal, even though she's also grossed out at the idea of feces being used as fertilizer for crops

and when falin comes back as a monster who can't speak, it's still not a point to criticize. oftentimes stories involving female characters losing their speech (or, well, becoming disabled in some way) is meant to make her vulnerable, a fragile 'something' to be protected. but this is not an argument about how chimera falin is super strong, because that's a shallow way of thinking that ignores the fact that being a Girlboss doesn't ensure your female character is written as a fully realized person. this is about the fact that almost right after that Izutsumi joins Laios' party.

She joins late in the game, so it'll be easy for her to only be tacked on as an afterthought. A notable example would be Okumura Haru from Persona 5, where her character gets overshadowed a lot by the other party members' more colorful personalities, as if the writer wasn't sure how to integrate her into the already developed dynamic.

there's also how she's written as a sweet and shy girl yet the way her school uniform is designed betrays that image. it's heavily customized even compared to the trendy girl like ann which means it's impossible for her outfit to not go against school regulation. not something an obedient girl would have done. which makes me wonder if they couldn't decide on her writing until last minute.

but Izutsumi is different. her involvement and her own personal story arc eventually intertwines to the overarching plot. she hates having her options limited. she hates having responsibilities to uphold. she hates eating veggies! she hates that people expects her to do things their way! she wants freedom to do whatever she wants!

but in the end she learns that to have the freedom to choose, she has to uphold her responsibilities. starting from the simple things like taking care of her health by eating balanced meals, not just the ones she enjoy. she has to do work to get enough money for her food and travels. and she has to learn how society works so she can live independently. she has to learn which desire she has to prioritize that she can balance out with her responsibility as a living being.

her own self-realization culminates into her giving advice to laios that leads to him steeling his resolves to become king.

so you have Falin, who gets turned into a monster that cant communicate her desire and needs while under the mad sorcerer's control, and in exchange you get Izutsumi, the 'beastman' who knows exactly what she wants and throws a tantrum about it without shame, not understanding that what you want isn't always what you need. i think it's a really cool parallel!

this is a prime example of how tropes that get associated with misogynistic writing can be used as a proper tool that serves a narrative when you have more than multiple female characters having their own character arcs

in fact, you can apply this to pretty much every other things. when you're writing gay characters, having only one of them and they act camp can make people raise an eyebrow at whether this is meant to be a caricature of gay people or not. having two of them and one acts camp and one acts normie can be read as a bias against gay people expressing themselves. writing multiple gay characters, all with different personalities and desires will avoid accidental stereotyping.

even the minor female characters, be it the canaries or namari, help show that the way the narrative treats Falin isn't born from thinking that women are an alien breed compared to men. that her lack of agency means something for the themes involved.

[leth-writes]

Cryptid AU!

Cryptid batfam x reader

Bruce Wayne

I know people traditionally peg Bruce as a vampire, but I see him more as a mothman type. I mean, think about it! The cape as wings, the attraction to a giant light in the sky, the quiet disposition… I think it fits perfectly

As a friend or partner, Moth! Bruce is more possessive. He likes wrapping you within his big, fluffy wings, and he can be easily distracted with shiny baubles. Be careful! When it’s cold, he’s gonna spend days cuddling.

Dick Grayson

I actually could see Dick being a satyr, which I know sounds unconventional, but I think it fits really well. I particularly chose a satyr because of their boisterous personalities and penchant for dancing, which I see fitting Dick quite well. They’re also known for having many successful relationships, which I see fitting Dick quite well.

In a relationship, whether platonic or romantic, I can imagine Dick being loud and cheerful, successfully getting close to you and disarming any anxiety you may have through his kind and excitable personality.

Jason Todd

Phoenix, for the obvious connections of rebirth and coming back from the dead. I especially think this fits because Jason is often associated with themes of being reborn through the fires of trauma, and I associate him quite heavily with fire due to his loud, brash personality. Yet, there’s a softness present, a thread that connects his new and old selves. For this reason, I associate him with the beautiful phoenix.

In any relationship, Jason is both protective and sensitive. He’s able to effectively navigate emotional situations and definitely teaches you to defend yourself, just in case.

Tim Drake

Changeling. I see this associated with Tim a lot, and I honestly really agree. He;s got an otherworldly energy about him, and is often seen as less emotional and more calculating than the other batfamily members, who tend to be quite emotional. I also see a lot about him creating a place for himself in the family, rather than being picked up by Bruce like the others. Not in a malicious way, but like a changeling; they find their way into a family through no fault of their own, but by methods that may appear harsh to others.

In a relationship, you have to spend a lot of time reassuring Tim of your feelings toward him, whether platonic or romantic. Tim is a really anxious person, mainly due to feelings of inferiority and a massive case of imposter syndrome. You’ll need to constantly remind him you see him as the ‘real’ Tim!

Damian Al-Ghul

I had never actually heard of this before, but when googling I found out about Aqrabuamelu, who are half-scorpion men known for guarding sacred places. They’re generally known as quite protective, while being potentially dangerous to those who cross what they’ve sworn to protect.

Damian really fits this; he’s quite protective and very formal, which I usually associate with guardian characters, and while he tries to relate and be kind to his family, he has no trouble defending those he’s sworn himself to protect, including the citizens of Gotham

Cassandra Cain

I actually see Cassandra as a Selkie, primarily for her quiet and contemplative nature. She grew up alienated from her humanity, which I think is nicely represented by the mythology of selkies being forced to return to the sea for years on end before taking their human form again.

In any relationship, once it’s deep enough, I see Cass giving you her pelt to keep a hold of (not necessarily a sign of marriage in this iteration). I think this would be her best way of communicating her care to you, even when she struggles to communicate through words.

[venus-haze]

Power in the Blood (Father Paul Hill x Nun!Reader)

Summary: There’s power in the blood. Father Paul knows this. Soon, you will, too.

Note: Female reader who's only referred to as "Sister," but no other descriptors are used. Also, the newspaper clipping isn't on the wall in this, for obvious reasons. I’ve been working on this fic in one way or another for about a year, but watching The Devils (1971) and Immaculate (2024) earlier this year as well as encouragement from my amazing friend @zaras-really-dreamless finally gave me the push I needed to finish it. Major visual inspiration from this scene in particular. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Angst, yearning, and unrequited feelings. Elements of Catholic mysticism. Sexually explicit content which involves dubious consent by way of religious manipulation, members of the clergy engaging in sexual acts, oral sex (f. receiving, but it's related to the stigmata and vampirism), blood play.

In retrospect, Crockett Island was the only place it could have happened. Desolation hung over the remote fishing village like fog in the early mornings, when you’d take your walks before the Monsignor awoke, and you heard the woes of the fishermen as they prepared to sail out for the day—oil spills, restrictive fishing laws, better paying jobs on the mainland but leaving everything they knew behind in exchange. Despite coming from the mainland yourself and otherwise alien to the ways of the dying village, your being a woman of the cloth on the largely Catholic (though predominantly non-practicing) island made the islanders trust you, consider you one of their own a bit more than they otherwise would have as you took on the burden of buoying their spirituality as the Monsignor’s health continued failing, and he could no longer fulfill the task himself.

You’d begged the diocese for help, hardly considered yourself equipped to care for the ailing priest and run a parish, however small, essentially on your own. But for a parish as small as St. Patrick’s, you were all the help the diocese would care to send. The letter you received in response to your detailing all of the things Crockett Island’s parishioners desperately needed boiled down to “wait until the old man kicks it.” 

You supposed it was a miracle the diocese even sent you there in the first place. Though most of the islanders took the arrival of a young nun like yourself as a breath of fresh air, Beverly Keane didn’t seem all too pleased to have her self-appointed position as number two at St. Patrick’s knocked down to number three. She seemed to settle down when it became clear you had no interest in engaging in petty politics in a church that barely counted three dozen people for regular Sunday mass attendance. 

The island’s social life, small as it was, interested you more. People were more open to receiving you as a friend than as a representative of the church, undoubtedly put off by Beverly Keane’s self-righteous fanaticism that veered into cruelty. You got to know the regular parishioners, like Erin Greene, who’d grown up on the island, left for some time, and returned pregnant yet eager to become a mother to her unborn baby. She taught at the island’s small school with Beverly, who encouraged you to take up teaching there, obviously hoping to bring a religious curriculum to the tax-payer funded public school. You declined. 

Besides Erin, and to your chagrin Beverly, who was convinced the two of you were compatriots of some kind despite how often you clashed, you found yourself spending increasing amounts of time with Sheriff Hassan. Despite dutifully filling an essential role in the community, he hardly seemed any closer to gaining acceptance despite a year on Crockett Island. 

The day he and Ali moved onto the island, you had a cold, and thus weren’t part of the unofficial welcoming committee. Your head pounded from the sinus pressure when Beverly brought the Monsignor back to the rectory afterward, and you barely heard what she said. You met Sheriff Hassan a few days later, when you were feeling well enough to shop for yourself and the Monsignor for the week. Among your expectations about Hassan Shabazz, his being handsome enough to make your breath hitch for just a moment before introducing yourself wasn’t on the list. But he was understandably weary of you, expecting the same horrendous treatment he undoubtedly received from Beverly. 

Over time, he found you were only interested in buying groceries and not in underhandedly converting him or Ali. You were both lonely outsiders to the island and found some solace in regular conversations about the mainland, or observations about the islanders, occasionally broaching the topic of religion, which had a comfortable place in the space you two shared in the general store, sometimes over a cup of coffee he’d brew for you. 

You admired him. His dedication to his son, the efficacy with which he performed his thankless job, and the unwavering faith he had in his religion, while yours had long lost its luster since you’d become Monsignor Pruitt’s live-in nurse in all but name. 

But the days became your own when the Monsignor made his trip to the Holy Land, ill-advised considering his health. When you voiced your concerns to the parish, your outsider status was paraded through the discussion by Beverly, who insisted you had no way to understand how much the trip meant to the Monsignor, and by extension, every good, practicing Catholic on the island. At the time, to your frustration, she had won. 

Besides, even if he were there, you weren’t sure a man on death’s door himself would have been able to give Mildred Gunning Last Rites. Torrential rain pounded against the rectory when you could barely hear the phone ring. 

You had picked up with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Sister, it’s—it’s my mom. I think she’s—”

“Sarah, do you want me to come over and see her?”

“Yeah, she’d want that. Just be careful with the rain.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

Grabbing a flashlight, you had only half pulled on your raincoat when you hurried outside, in a near sprint to the Gunning house. You almost slipped and fell on the way there, and then you wouldn’t have been any good to anybody, and the last thing Dr. Sarah Gunning needed was to tend to a broken leg while her mother was on her deathbed.

The door was unlocked when you arrived, the house quiet and dark save for a few lamps left on.

“Sarah?” you called out.

She emerged from her mother’s room, eyes red. “I thought I was ready for this a long time ago, but being face-to-face with it…”

“Are you sure this is it?”

“As sure as I can be. She hasn’t been eating. There’s only so much I can do,” Sarah said, her voice breaking in despair. “Sister, I—she’d want you to be here. Even though she didn’t know you very much, I could tell she liked you.”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her a hug before approaching Mildred’s bedside. 

Despite her labored breathing, she managed a kind smile when you took her weathered hand in yours and prayed the Our Father with as steady of a voice as you could manage. Then, you knelt, pulled the rosary from your raincoat pocket, and prayed until your knees ached and you nearly passed out from exhaustion at staying up so late. You almost thought you had dreamed it, the way she went, as peacefully as drifting off to sleep. It was only the cry of her daughter that pierced through your haze, and you struggled to your feet as you allowed Sarah privacy and called Sheriff Hassan over to certify the death, as was necessary for the burial Mildred would have undoubtedly wanted as a Catholic.

When the Sheriff arrived, about fifteen minutes after you called, you’d become acutely aware your nightgown had soaked through in the rain, and pulled your raincoat more closely over your body, ashamed you’d even forgotten such a detail in your haste.

“I should head back now,” you said. “I’m so sorry again, Sarah. You’ll be in my prayers. I’ll contact the diocese first thing in the morning."

She nodded. "Thank you, Sister."

“Do you need a ride back to the church?” Hassan asked. “This shouldn’t take long.”

You smiled, tempted by his offer, the prospect of spending more time alone with him. Instead, you shook your head. “Thank you, Sheriff. I think I can manage.”

Crockett Island was quiet the following day, when Annie’s son Riley arrived home for the first time in over a decade, following his four year prison sentence. You could tell through his polite greeting he had no interest in speaking with you further than his mother’s introductions. Fair enough.

Monsignor Pruitt was supposed to return that evening, but you had been calling the diocese to try to get confirmation that they could send a priest over to perform the funeral mass if needed. As usual, you got answering machines or the run around of being told to call different offices, none of which could apparently help you. 

When you returned to the rectory after visiting with Sarah Gunning, you noticed the light on in the distance. Beverly had planned to meet the Monsignor at the ferry and bring him home. In all honesty, you couldn’t believe he survived the trip, both there and back.

“Monsignor, it’s me!” you called out. “How was your trip? I’d love to hear about—” You froze when you came face to face with a priest. A priest who wasn’t the Monsignor. Younger, handsome, absolutely unexpected. “Hello. I–I’m sorry, who are you? Father—”

“I’m Father Paul, Paul Hill,” he said kindly. “The diocese sent me.”

“That was quick. I thought they’d been ignoring my messages.”

“Yes, I’m afraid the Monsignor became ill on his trip, and I’m here until he recovers. I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and brought my things into what I assumed was his room.”

“Please, make yourself at home.” You hastily made a sign of the cross. “But the Monsignor…I don’t think the islanders could take another loss. I’m so sorry, you come here and your first mass is a funeral.”

“Funeral? For who?”

“Mildred Gunning, an elderly parishioner who had been ill with dementia for a few years, I believe. She passed away two nights ago,” you said. “That’s why I’ve been calling the diocese all day. We need someone to perform the funeral mass.”

His deep, brown eyes widened with all the terror of a deer being chased through the woods. “Are–are you sure?”

“Of course I am. I was there when she passed.”

“Did she suffer?”

“No, it was like she had fallen asleep,” you said softly, watching in wonder as tears fell from his eyes. “Father?”

“I’m sorry, Sister. These things affect me deeply.”

You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Can I make you coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, please,” he said, his voice empty, an almost far away sound to it.

“While that’s brewing, I’ll call Dr. Gunning, Mildred’s daughter, and let her know you’re here. I don’t think she’d want any deviation from the typical funeral rites. Her mother was quite devout.”

“Yes, I know.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Yes, I–I figured.”

He retreated into the Monsignor’s room. When you brought the coffee to him, he requested you leave it outside the door, which you found odd. Even more strange was having to tell Beverly that she missed the Monsignor’s arrival because he wasn’t arriving in the first place, and the diocese forgot to tell you that he’d become ill on his trip and Father Paul was serving as his replacement until he recovered. You privately figured the assignment would be more permanent, as yours had unexpectedly become.

Mildred Gunning’s funeral was held in St. Patrick’s Church less than a day later. A simple, solemn affair that saw the church nearly packed for the first time outside of Christmas or Easter. Mildred had lived and died on Crockett Island, everyone knew her in one way or another. Father Paul conducted the funeral mass as if mourning the Pope himself, and you were particularly struck by his grief, the way he nearly fell apart while giving the homily.

He fared no better at the wake that followed the funeral mass, held in the community center. Father Paul was utterly disinterested in speaking with any of the parishioners who tried to introduce themselves to him or sought solace and spiritual guidance in his presence. Thus, the burden once again fell on your shoulders, and you almost thought the diocese would have been better off ignoring your calls after all.

You sighed. You couldn’t let your cynicism get the best of you. It’d be entirely inappropriate for Father Paul to treat Mildred’s wake as a social hour. Besides, people with such deep empathy for others, especially someone they’d never met, were rare, as reminded to you by Beverly, who made her way over to you with a plate of cheese and crackers and a slight sneer on her face.

“I suppose it’s nice and all, but it’s not like he knew the woman,” Beverly muttered.

“He needs time to adjust,” you said. “This isn’t the best way to start out his tenure here.”

“Yes, well, let’s just hope he gets his act together soon.”

You could swear the diocese had you on some kind of blacklist, the way your calls to them went unanswered, letters returned with vague instructions and empty assurances. Father Paul had no idea how long they intended for him to stay on Crockett Island or the condition of Monsignor Pruitt. 

Your living in the rectory made sense when you were caring for the Monsignor, but with Father Paul fully capable of taking care of himself, you wanted to know if you’d be staying on the island, and if so, if separate arrangements would be made for your own housing. The island was too small, too chatty, for you and Father Paul to be living alone for too long before it was turned into something it wasn’t.

The bitter taste of married life settled on your tongue as you took up most of the responsibilities around the rectory while Father Paul moped . The old man could hardly help with cleaning, and you didn’t want him anywhere near the kitchen, but your new roommate was an able-bodied man who could spare to pick up some slack, couldn’t he?

“I made dinner, if you’re hungry,” you said, emerging from the kitchen and into the living room where he sat on the couch. “Just spaghetti and meatballs. The jar sauce from the store isn’t too bad. I usually add—”

“Red wine and oregano to it. I know.”

“Oh,” you said, taken aback by his statement. “I guess Bev told you. Not much of a secret recipe.”

“You’re pretty young for a nun,” he said, turning to you. “What made you want to give up a normal life for this?”

“It’s my vocation. For as long as I can remember, I knew this was what God called me to do. I never wanted another life.” You sat down next to him, sparing a glance around the room. “This is it for me.”

“Crockett Island?”

You conceded a small smile. “I was hoping for somewhere a little more exciting, but I think there’s a chance for something amazing to happen here.”

He shook his head. “That time’s long passed. Look around you, Sister. People are leaving in droves, and the ones who’ve stayed…it’s just too late.”

“Please, Father, I know this island may seem like it’s dying, and presiding over a funeral as your first mass here doesn’t help that, but the people still need guidance,” you pleaded, taking his hands in yours. You couldn’t contend with the diocese sending you to rot with the rest of the island. It couldn’t be for nothing. “The Monsignor is no longer well enough to fill that need, and I couldn’t do it on my own, but together, I think we can do something great if we try. This might be the island’s last chance to have life breathed into it again.”

“Sister—”

“I agree that Crockett Island is hardly a place anymore, but it’s somewhere to start, isn’t it? We couldn’t have been sent here without a reason.”

He swallowed roughly, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You’re right, Sister. I—Thank you.”

You smiled, relief washing over you at his words, at his assurance you wouldn't have to bring revival to Crockett Island on your own. 

Following your conversation with Father Paul, his attitude completely shifted. He was friendlier with the parishioners, taking extra time to spend with Leeza, offering to hold Riley’s AA meetings in the community center to save him a trip to the mainland, and, inexplicably, he liked Beverly, who’d changed her mind about Father Paul since the wake and warmed up to him. The only time he wavered was when he visited with Sarah Gunning, still grieving the loss of her mother and considering moving her practice off of the island.

He’d return to the rectory on those evenings quiet, morose, seeking the comfort you selflessly offered him. A warm embrace in which he’d bury his face in the crook of your neck. A hand to hold and squeeze in his own, intertwining his fingers with yours. Teetering on the brink of an intimacy you’d made vows against, you weren’t quite sure how to bring it up to him, not when he needed you, and you, him, to fill the hunger in your heart for a man you knew you could never have. 

You allowed the beast to live in you. Fed it. Nurtured it. Cared for it. Guarded it with a shameful protectiveness, shielding it from your regular confessions with Father Paul, in which uttering its name would make it real, and thus ripped away from you and destroyed. 

Ash Wednesday and the first week of Lent were resigned to a haze in your memory, hardly able to think of the beginning of the holiest time of the liturgical year without feeling sick. Not after the potluck. You were sure it had been Beverly, Sheriff Hassan was, too. You knew she was cruel, but to harm an animal, something so innocent…You couldn’t stand to be in her presence for long after that, and silently resented Father Paul for keeping her so close. But you supposed everyone had their vices. 

Yours came to a head in a dream, one that felt all too real, that you could hardly remember when you awoke apart from burning hands on your skin, lips pressed to yours, you and Sheriff Hassan in throes of passion. You laid in bed with a lump in your throat and aching between your legs. You hadn’t experienced a dream like that in…you couldn’t even remember.

The entire time you sat through mass, you thought you were going to be sick. You couldn’t concentrate on the readings or the homily. Taking the Eucharist felt wrong, and your hand shook when you brought the communion wafer to your lips when Father Paul handed it to you. Finally, when mass ended, and you were sure the church was empty, you approached him with trepidation.

“Father, I have something I need to confess.”

“Would you like to go to the confessional?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to hide behind it. I need to be transparent and held accountable.”

He nodded. The two of you sat in a pew, facing each other as you crossed yourselves. 

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

“Three days,” you answered.

“What is it, Sister?”

“I’ve been having lustful thoughts, Father, about someone incredibly close to me, who I care deeply for. Instead of asking the Lord to take these feelings from me, I’ve been indulging in them, and last night I—I had a dream about him. A sexual one that I experienced physical pleasure from.” You were in tears, guilt wracking your body as you spoke. “I’m so ashamed. I should have been stronger. I’ve been sinning against God, exploiting this man in my heart when he’s done nothing to deserve such disrespect. Sheriff Hassan is—”

“Sheriff Hassan?” Father Paul’s gaze darkened ever so slightly, and you leapt to the sheriff’s defense in his absence.

“He didn’t do anything, Father. Nothing more than friendly smiles and kind words, never anything inappropriate. It was me, letting my lustful thoughts ferment instead of nipping them in the bud right away. He committed no sin. It was me.” Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

“Why him?”

You were silent for a moment. “He’s a good man.” Better than most you’d come across. Kind, selfless, just—the virtues that were few and far between among the men of the cloth you had met. Above all else, even when it was difficult, Hassan Shabazz was good. “I love him.”

“You don’t love him, Sister. Lust after him, yes, but you don’t know him, not enough to love him the way you think you do.”

With a shaky, reluctant sigh, you nodded. “Will you help me, Father?”

He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course, it’s the least I can do after you helped me through the trial God set out for me when I first arrived here.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get through this together, Sister. Let us pray.”

The following Sunday, you tried to match the enthusiasm he had for ten o’clock mass that morning. You had gotten used to it by then, the way he always seemed to know something you didn’t or was aware of details about the islanders you weren’t keen to even after living there for two years. He was easy to trust, you supposed. 

Sitting in the wooden pew, you focused on following along with mass until the homily following the reading from the Gospel. Father Paul’s homilies were always a bit odd, cryptic, even. You assumed his faith was influenced by mysticism, and sought out books by the likes of St. John of the Cross and St. Francis in an attempt to better understand him. The way he spoke that day unsettled you, a fantastical fanaticism that felt out of place on Crockett Island.

Then, when it was time to receive the Eucharist, there was a solid minute where you were sure you had never hated anyone more in your entire life than you hated him. Telling Leeza Scaroborough to walk, goading the poor girl to step out of her wheelchair in an act of cruelty you couldn’t abide by. You got up from the pew, en route to smack him across the face when she did it. Leeza stood up from her wheelchair, and with tentative steps forward and tears of disbelief and hope in her eyes, she walked up to Father Paul and received the Eucharist.

Everything that followed was a blur, but you knew you were one of the few in attendance who hadn’t broken out into frenzied celebration. Something just wasn’t right. You found yourself hesitant to make eye contact with him when you took communion, and remained quiet even as mass ended, the cacophony of elated voices almost background noise to you.

“I’m sorry, everyone, but I need to speak to our dear Sister in confidence. I’m sure you all understand,” he said, murmurs of affirmation from the congregants who had crowded around him, except for Bev, who had a puss on her face at being excluded.

Father Paul ushered you into the sacristy, closing the door behind you.

“Is something wrong, Sister?” he asked.

“How can anything be wrong? Leeza Scarborough can walk again.”

“Yes, a miracle occurred in this very parish, right before our eyes, yet you seem…hesitant.”

You chewed on your lip before murmuring, “Seeing isn’t always believing.”

“You were the one who told me this island needed life brought back to it, who said we could achieve great things together. Now I’ve done that, by the grace of God Himself, and you have cold feet?”

“It’s not that.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“You know I do,” you said, trying to ignore the lump in your throat. “Maybe my faith is still weak—I’m still weak. I’m sorry, Father.”

“You’re not weak, Sister.”

“I think I’m going to get some air,” you said.

He nodded, distressed by your continued lack of enthusiasm. “Alright.”

Leaving St. Patrick’s through the side door in the sacristy, you tried to muster up the joy and faith you were supposed to feel, but found yourself coming up disappointingly empty. You had seen it with your very own eyes, and had been standing right there when Leeza walked for the first time in years. It couldn’t have been a trick, not orchestrated or premeditated, not by her. But Father Paul seemed so certain. Was his faith that much stronger than yours? Strong enough that he could be a true miracle worker, a vessel of God Himself on Crockett Island of all places?

Even the more skeptical congregants present, like Erin and Riley, had bared witness to it. Could attest to what had happened just as everyone else had, as you could. As a nun, you were undoubtedly expected to believe, be among the most fervent of Father Paul’s advocates. Beverly wasted no time in declaring the act a miracle worthy of the Vatican’s attention. Your faith still wavered despite what should have been undeniable proof. 

You’d lost track of how long you’d been walking around the island, but the sun was beginning to set and you realized you were tired and hungry. The general store wasn’t much farther of a walk from where you ended up while mindlessly wandering, and so you made the trek into town, telling yourself you were getting a few groceries for yourself and Father Paul. Really, the only person you knew you could speak to without judgment would be in there.

When you entered, Hassan greeted you with an emotional distance you expected. He probably figured you’d be among the dozens of people eager to relay Leeza’s miracle to him, underhandedly attempting to invalidate his own faith. 

Grabbing a jar of sauce and a box of pasta, you brought them up to the counter. Your mouth was dry while he rang up the groceries, but you couldn’t help asking, “Have–um–have you seen Leeza recently?” 

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line. “Walked right in here and bought a Twinkie earlier.”

“Amazing, how it happened.”

“I know about what happened to Leeza. I don’t believe what happened to Leeza.”

“Neither do I.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“It doesn’t sit right with me,” you said. “It felt more like a show was being put on than a miracle. I don’t think she had anything to do with what happened, but he had to have done something. He was so sure she would walk, and I just felt angry, betrayed that he’d make a spectacle in mass. In all honesty, Sheriff, my faith has been wavering for a while, but this didn’t make it any stronger.”

“It makes me feel a little more sane to hear you say that.”

“Well, if anyone can get to the bottom of this, I’m sure it’s you.” You smiled, taking the bags of groceries from the counter. “Have a good night, Sheriff.”

“You too, Sister.”

Walking back to the rectory, you wondered if anything would be able to make you change your mind about actually bearing witness to a miracle.

Father Paul hugged you as soon as you walked through the door. “I was about to send out a search party for you.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Father. I just needed time to think.”

He looked at the grocery bag in your hand. “And to see the Sheriff.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Sister, something incredible is happening here. I need to know you’re on my side,” he said, his urgency striking you like lightning. 

“I am. I want to be. Please just be patient with me. This is—it’s a lot to process.”

“I can’t do this without you,” he said softly, caressing your cheek. “I need you.” His gaze fell to your lips.

“I should start on dinner,” you whispered, pulling away from him.

“Let me, you cook enough for me already,” he said, taking the bag from you. He pulled out the jar of sauce. “Red wine and oregano, right?”

You nodded. “That’s right.”

“Make yourself comfortable out here. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

The following half hour or so was unbearably tense, and you could hardly focus on the book sitting in your lap, The Dialogue of Divine Providence, while he cooked. The two of you ate in near silence, and you retired to your room early, falling asleep almost as soon as you changed into your nightgown and crawled into bed.

Burning pain seared your limbs when you awoke in the middle of the night, the pungent scent of iron assaulting your nose, and for a moment, you thought you were dying. You reached over to the lamp on your nightstand, your arm heavy as you moved it. With trepidation, you pulled the cord, a phantom sensation in your hand as you did so. 

Soft, white light from the bulb illuminated your beside. Lifting your hands to your face, you let out a panicked whimper at the gaping wounds in your palms, gently bleeding crimson and flowing down your arms to your nightgown. The fabric around your torso was blotched with blood, each tinge of pink becoming red with every ragged breath you took. You tried kicking at the covers, but found it excruciatingly difficult, and to your horror, discovered identical wounds to the ones in your hands through both of your feet.

Your hands shook as you screwed your eyes shut, telling yourself it was a dream, and that when you opened your eyes, the blood would be gone, the wounds healed. Except the pain was all too real, pulsing in your wounds, tears stinging your eyes as you choked out a sob. Your simple bedroom, with little more than a bookshelf, desk, chair, and crucifix on the wall, threatened to suffocate you as your panic set in.

A groan pulled from your lips as you pushed yourself out of bed, your legs nearly giving out beneath you. The strange sensation of your bare feet on the wooden floorboards made you feel dizzy, or maybe it was blood loss. Each step forward was more agonizing than the last, but you needed help. You needed someone else to see you, a witness to what was happening. 

“Father Paul!” you cried out from the doorway, your voice hoarse and low, barely carrying across the hallway. “Father, wake up!” Mustering what strength you could, you threw yourself against his bedroom door, your closed, bleeding fist erratically banging against it. “Father, please!”

“Sister, what’s going—” 

As soon as he opened the door, you collapsed into his arms, sending him stumbling backward with the sudden burden of your body on his. He looked at you, gaping at the blood that covered you—and him. 

“Father?” 

“I should call Dr. Gunning.”

You shook your head frantically. “Don’t! Not yet.” 

“What happened?”

“I woke up, and I was like this.” Your bleeding hands clenched around the hem of your nightgown, keeping it at your thighs. “I’m too afraid to look.”

“May I?” he asked, his own hands shaking as his fingers brushed the blood-drenched fabric.

Staring at him for a moment, reckoning with the further vulnerability you were about to display to him, you breathed a soft, “Yes.”

He pulled your nightgown up, the fabric sticking to your skin from the congealed blood. You stared at the ceiling as he lifted the garment over your head, too embarrassed and mortified to acknowledge your body bare before him. His fingertips brushed your torso, and you moaned. In your horror, you looked down to see deep, fresh wounds on your sides.

“Oh my God.”

“Do you know what this is, Sister?”

Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “It can’t be stigmata. I’m not pure enough, not devout enough. He’d never—”

“Of course He would. He saw you needed faith, a reminder of His love for you, and look at you now,” Father Paul said with hushed fervor as he took in the state of you. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed your forehead, then pressed his lips to each of your weeping palms, and then your feet. 

Desire twisted in your gut at the sight of him beneath you. He kissed your feet again, a terrifying hunger in his gaze as he brought his lips higher up your legs, his hands brushing your skin with a reverence you felt unworthy of receiving. 

You watched as he dipped his fingers into one of your side wounds and then brought the digits to his mouth, tasting your blood from them. With a ragged breath, he brought his face to your torso. His tongue plunged in the valley of your wound, lapping up the blood that gently flowed from it. A moan tore from your throat, pleasure rolling across your skin as if you truly were a vessel for the divine. Surely it was the same sensation that inspired St. Teresa of Avila’s eroticism, a mystical ecstasy that saw her driven out of villages and cloister herself in search of the purest, incorporeal love.

Except before you knelt a man of God whom you could reach out and touch, eagerly devouring your flesh as if able to find salvation in your blood. His teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a shudder that echoed through you like a worn-out hymn. Words failed you, the pleasure you received from his ravenous consumption of you overtaking the pain from your wounds. 

Holding his head against your side wound, you wanted more, the feeling of him indulging in you. Taste and eat. Everything you felt and saw was in shades of violently blossoming red, deeper and deeper with each curl of his tongue and brush of his fingertips, his unadulterated worship, his veneration for you, serving as the flowing cup of God’s grace and mercy.

Rapturous bliss hummed through you like an ecstatic prayer, pulsing in your wounds on your hands, feet, and sides. You felt like he was part of you, a mystical union between yourself and him.

But just as high as he’d taken you, you quickly came down. The gravity of the situation, of what he’d done, what you’d let him do, weighed on your conscience more heavily than any illicit feeling you’d ever harbored toward Sheriff Hassan.

Father Paul took your face in his hands, eyes glistening with a joyous faith you no longer envied. “Your own miracle, Sister. Do you see it now?”

“You did this to me?” you asked in distressed horror. “You—Who are you?”

“Not me, Sister,” he said. “Here, let me show you. You’ll understand everything. I think you’re ready.”

He held out his hand, and despite everything in you screaming otherwise, you took it.

[somekindoffurry]

I don't like call out posts or whatever but I'm a fucking rural queer.

TCS has a horrible work environment. I know my local hardware stores and mom and pops. They are sweet and have a great work environment and sponsor local events. TSC doesn't donate shit to us. I'd rather support a local homophobic mom and pop than a "queer" corporation.

FFA has a horrible fucking culture and if they cared about queer folks or women or people of color, they would require change. Oh, right... rural culture to them is built on denial of climate change, or any "woke" shit like feminism or anti-racism or Pride. This is just a pink washed way of saying-

"Our employees and rural communities will receive less fucking protections, our employees- fuck them. They have less protections against a horrible fucking environment and we are alienating them from rural culture by acting like anything referring to WOKE is a city thang."

ALSO they are taking away policies regarding carbon emissions to FOCUS ON LOCAL SOIL AND WATER CONSERVATION, THIS IS BULL FUCKING SHIT!! Soil and water conservation is constantly monoriting CO2 emissions, Methane emissions and Carbon emissions.

I'm friends with someone who has pulled live chicks out of their dumpsters and raised them for sustainable profit because she actually gave a shit.

I'm friends with someone who quit after being demeaned and bullied by upper mgmnt. For years!!

Fuck Tractor Supply Company! Support mom's and pop's. They are trying to save the true culture from corporations like Tractor Supply.

"Queer" corporations like TSC are using us as a weapon to both to the communities they colonize both rural and queer.

No kink at pride? Thank Tractor Supply.

Cops at pride? Thank Tractor Supply.

No funding for pride? Thank Tractor Supply.

Queer mistreatment in work environments, thank Tractor Supply.

No mom and pop's, no raccoon huntin', overpriced shoddy quality, cancer from an ointment animals use, lead pollution in farmers farms?

Thank motherfucking Tractor Supply Company.

TSC is directly linked to my horse trainer's cancer and why my cousin is currently dying of cancer.

So yeah, I'm upset. Thanks for reading this far. I was going to reblog @vaspider 's post but this needed to be it's own rant. BTW all of this is alleged to have happened. I don't have sources so you can make your own opinions and do your own research if you are interested.

Thanks again for reading. Goodbye.

[thelargefrye]

🌷 SMALLS’ FIC RECOMMENDATION LIST.

i've seen a lot of fic rec lists circulating in the community recently and so i felt like i should also make one to support fellow writers who i think really deserve that extra love and attention.

so this is also an appreciation post because i have quite a few things to say. these are mainly writers that i enjoy reading and think need a lot more love and attention because let's be honest, they have amazing ideas and people are just sleeping on them.

so, i'll just jump right into it! make sure to send these writers love and reblog their works!!!

my best friend and person i share a braincell with : @sanjoongie

check out her master list.

like you want to talk about talent? topaz is the one who breathes talent and ideas that literally no one else is coming up with. like if i had to read only one person for the rest of my life, it would be topaz because her writing is just amazing. her moodboards that she makes for her works, perfect. everything topaz does when it comes to writing is amazing, and i'm so glad that she's my best friend and braincell.

and not only that, but topaz is just nice to be talk to! like she makes you want to repeatedly talk to her and she is so good at helping flesh out my own ideas. i wouldn't have written half the things i did last year if it wasn't for her.

anyways, i'm so grateful and proud to call topaz my braincell because she's so amazing, talented, and nice. it breaks my heart that more people don't talk about HER. like you want to read something different and so well written then you need to read literally ANY work topaz has written.

topaz, my lovely braincell, thank you for putting up with me and my shit 24/7. if it wasn't for you i probably wouldn't have gotten out of my writer's block. and just now that i love you and thank you for being an amazing friend and writer.

and if you've gotten this far, i'll just straight up tell you that this is topaz appreciation post. so now i'll link some of my favorite works by her and tell you why i love them:

twilight academy ( all parts ) ( rated : mature )

wizard professor!seonghwa x wizard professor!f!reader ft. ateez

this currently has four parts and is still ongoing and is literally SO good. like who else is writing about a professor au WHERE THEY ARE ALL WIZARDS. and not to mention the worldbuilding and history that is all mentioned and talked about. its so so so good and the smut in it is absolutely to die for. and the chemistry between seonghwa and mc is so good, i love when they go back and forth.

breed ( part one ) ( rated : mature )

ateez x f!reader ( most of the members are aliens with san and another member being human )

now THIS is an alien au done right and different and basically sum it up with one sentence its "alien!teez doing sexual experiments" (from @/morethingsfandom). like its just so good and the SMUT! THE SMUT IS WHY WE ARE HERE PEOPLE!! THIS IS WHAT SCI-FI SMUT IS ABOUT!!! like this is honestly pure pwp and a nice switch up if maybe twilight academy isn't your thing.

see? topaz does everything!

dragon oracle ( here ) ( rated : mature )

dragon!ateez x dragon!f!reader ( based off of my own dragon au )

THIS!! in my opinion is one of topaz's best works (i may be biased lol) and def my favorite from all time. topaz took my au and did her own spin on it and made it her own. she cared about the source material, asked questions, let me ramble, and then boom! a masterpiece was made. if you like my dragon au, then i highly, HIGHLY recommend you read this. and if you've already read... then read it again.

i wish it was me ( here ) ( rated : 18+ )

water bender!san x avatar!hongjoong x water bender!f!reader x water tribe warrior!yunho ( implied ot8 )

again another fic that is based off of mine but literally made it her own because topaz is just that talented. a "what-if" au for my alta series where mc is a water bender and with san and yunho. absolutely amazing and does so well with writing all the characters and their dynamics. a def read if you love atla!

sweet sorrow of evil ( master list ) ( rated : mature )

ateez x evil queen!f!reader ( members have different roles within the story )

this is a collab story between topaz and me and i couldn't make this post and NOT include this series that we are working on together. this really just shows what two authors can make when they come together. we co-wrote the prologue and are currently writing the first chapter. this world is our baby and i love and it has the both of us in a chokehold, i'm so proud of the world me and here built and i want everyone to see it.

and honestly, that's just the tip of the iceberg cause topaz has SO MANY more but these are just the ones that i always think about. like, i really suggest you all check out topaz's works. i have more of her fics on my fic rec blog (@comicsan) so if you want to see more of her and other fics that i have enjoyed then i would check that blog out.

please go show my bestie support, it would mean the world to me!

thank you 🩷

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for systems who hallucinate!

Experiencing psychosis can be scary, alienating, confusing, and isolating, but for many systems, this is a fact of life! Systems who hallucinate are cherished, beloved, and valued members of the plural community, and they belong in our spaces just as much as anyone else! This post goes out to all the systems who hallucinate out there!

💜 Shoutout to systems who are hallucigenic, psychogenic, schizogenic, or whose plurality was caused by their hallucinations in some way!

💙 Shoutout to systems who experience hallucinations that mainly affect their senses taste, smell, and touch!

💚 Shoutout to systems who struggle to determine whether the voices they hear and figures they see are hallucinations, fellow headmates, or something else!

💛 Shoutout to systems whose hallucinations are often paired with delusions!

🧡 Shoutout to traumagenic systems who struggle with trauma-based psychosis!

❤️ Shoutout to systems with hallucinations caused by Parkinson’s disease, epilepsy, psychotic depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, lasting effects from drug use, or anything else!

💗 Shoutout to systems whose hallucinations have made it more difficult for them to access the care they need or be taken seriously by guardians and healthcare professionals!

❤️ Shoutout to systems who are troubled and distressed, totally indifferent, or comforted and cheered by their hallucinations!

🧡 Shoutout to systems who often deal with denial or a fear of faking because of their hallucinations!

💛 Shoutout to systems who have been hospitalized, voluntarily or involuntarily, or who have been called “dangerous” or “scary” by others due to their hallucinations!

💚 Shoutout to systems whose experience with hallucinations aligns with many stereotypes regarding hallucinations, and to systems whose hallucinations are nothing like the common stereotypes accepted by society!

💙 Shoutout to systems who take medications, are in therapy, or otherwise are seeking treatment to help manage their hallucinations!

💜 Shoutout to headmates who are symptom holders for psychosis or who are the only members of their system who hallucinate!

For any system who hallucinates, for any reason, we want to remind you that you are loved and you belong in the plural community just the way you are! Having hallucinations doesn’t make you any less valid as a person or as a system. We love you, we value your insight, and we want you to know that your presence is wanted in our spaces and your experiences are absolutely worth sharing!

We believe that every person’s understanding of reality is deeply personal and subject to their own perception and lived experiences. Regardless of how you and your system view your hallucinations, know that your voice deserves to be heard and you deserve to be taken seriously and treated with kindness and respect! We truly hope that you can find acceptance and joy among the people in your life, and that your future will be filled with happiness, purpose, and meaning. Thanks so much for reading, and have a wonderful day!

[ilaurabhdh]

| My dove | Ben x reader | chapter 1 |

Masterlist

Warnings : none

Word count : 5.6k

A/N : you’re an alien but you mostly look human but you have halos and wings. English is not my first language but I still hope you’ll enjoy my work

Credits : @cafekitsune for the divider

Loud foot steeps echoed in the halls,the jingles of the many trinkets of its owner followed. They suddenly stopped. In front of a metal door, the owner takes out a badge for the door to scan.

Entering their home, the person found a special communication badge sitting on their table. Whiteout a word, they simply walk towards it and listen to its message.

The self proclaimed savior of the universe, Ben Tennyson, finally arrived back to HQ. Casually slurping his smoothie and walking over to his grandpa with cross arms and partner, Rook, both having waiting for him for too long.

"Sorry I'm late" Ben takes another slurp of his smoothie.

Grandpa Max uncrosses his arms, the little frown on his face still there.

"You're not on your own schedule anymore, Ben. You can't keep your partner waiting." Ben looked tiredly at his uncle, trying to come up with an excuse.

"I was...Off saving the universe !"

His grandpa glanced over at the smoothie cup the brunet held in his hand. Ben looked at where he was staring, not understanding what that look meant.

Grandpa Max smiled. "Good luck on your patrol, maybe with some luck, you two will meet your other partner."

"Wait ! Grandpa Max, what do you mean by other partner ? Don't you just mean Rook ? because I've already meet him !"

Ben did not want to deal with another person, Rook was nice enough but what if his new partner just ends up being bossy ? Plus, he'sBen Tennyson ! The savior of the universe ! On multiple occasions !

"I thought you were aware of our other partner ?"

"Wait, you knew ?!"

Ben looked at Rook with surprise, why does nobody ever tell him anything !

"I was informed of a third party, I do not know their name or face, all I know is that they are a high ranking member of the plumbers."

"And you're only telling me now ?"

"As I've already said, I thought you knew."

Ben sighs, maybe with luck, they won't meet they're other partner.

"Come on Rook, l'est go. I'm parked over here."

"We'll take mine."

Rook show what looks like a high tech plumber vehicle to Ben's interest, only to be disappointed when the vehicle moves to show a truck belonging to his grandpa's shop.

"Wow, I bet the girls all start screaming when they they see this ride rolling down on the block."

Rook only looks at him with confusion. "Females are not afraid of my vehicle. But they probably should be."

Rook smiled, taking his keys and activating his car, it slowly transformed into a more intimidating mini spaceship with the plumber symbol on its wings. Ben's mouth was agape at how cool the vehicle looked. Smiling while glancing at Rook.

"Sometimes, you're actually awesome."

Rook smiled. Ben quickly started to walk over the car. "Sometimes."

Rook followed Ben, not bothered by the cocky brunet's last comment. The vehicle flew off into one of the many secret tunnels, transforming back into a regular truck when it was about to enter a normal traffic.

There was no words exchange between the partners. Ben continuously slurped loudly on his smoothie, earning Rook's attention.

"I'm not familiar with human emotional cues, but are you angry at me ?"

"Nah, just bored. I'm feeling more like a tour guide then a hero lately. Over here, on your right you'll see a city and over on your left, you'll see something that we call water. Careful it's wet."

"Water is wet, I'm familiar with that."

They both smiled at each other. The brunet suddenly felt a bit of guilt for leaving Rook hanging.

"I'm sorry that I left you waiting around. I just don't want to change how I work. I've saved the universe a million times, at least." Ben takes more sips of his smoothie.

"That is why I look forward to this. I hope that the real Ben Tennyson lives up to the legends."

Ben stopped drinking his smoothie the moment he heard his name and legend in the same sentence. He looks back at his tall partner.

"Thy're legends ?" Rook nods.

"They can't all be true thought, for instance, alien X. That's just a rumor a fan made up and put on the extranet, right ?

Ben smirked."Alien X is real." He proudly claims.

"He is ?" Rook turned his head to Ben's direction.

"Show me, change into alien X right now."

"I'd better not." Rook's head turned back to the road.

Ben played around with his smoothie cup."It's a whole things."He then went on to continue drinking his smoothie, Rook gave Ben a side eye.

"Just as I thought."

"Look, find us a little heroing to do and you can tell me if I live up to the legends.

The truck suddenly rolled faster on the road. The two actively searched for any criminals or criminal activity to resolve, only for it to end up with alien eating cars that stopped the moment they saw Ben and a thief that returned the bag to an old lady.

The two heroes only ended up back in Rook's truck, observing their surroundings. Rook eating chips while Ben only lounged around comfortably.

"Some heroeing so far. At least the world is safe from car munching aliens."

Ben put his arms on the solid construct in front of him and rested his chins. He pointed out to a teenager walking by them.

"Look, some normal dude."

Ben got up from his position and sarcastically commented. "Maybe we should arrest him for jaywalking."

Rook didn't respond for some time, his keen eyes could see that the teenager had some kind of alien technology.

"His phone shouldn't be powered here on earth. Is that normal ?"

The teenager with black and red hair, held some kind of phone, wired to his backpack.

"No, that's not normal."

They both got out of the truck and followed the edgy teenager into a dark alleyway in a not so discreet manner. Catching the attention of the teen, who ready himself to shoot them. Ben used himself as a shield to protect Rook, the teen hastily runs away.

"You're welcome."

Ben says to Rook as they both quickly got up and chased down their attacker. The attacker take another turn toward a dark alley. Before the duo are able catch him, the teen gets in his car and drives away. Ben smiles and gets up before Rook.

"Finally, some action."

Ben runs directly towards a wall while using his omnitrix.

"Bigchill, will let me cut right into these buildings."

Only for him to transform into some kind of fire alien and slam himself into the wall. Ben scratches a bit his head, Rook joins his side.

"Heatblast ? Seriously ?"

Ben and Rook both look at the giant building in front of them.

"Time to improvise."

The brunet used his fire powers to fly over the building and catch up to their attacker. The edgy teen tried to shoot the flaming alien, only  to barely manage to pass by Rook's truck. The later transform his truck into a flying plumber ship and chased the teen with Ben.

Ben was able to use his flame powers to melt the red car's wheel. His omnitrix started beeping, signaling that it was about to go on cool down. As Ben transformed back into a human, he braced himself for the pain of the crash against the floor.

On the other hand, the edgy teen took that opportunity to run away. Before the teen could get away, a figure appeared in the sky and tackled him.

Rook quickly got out of his car, only to be meet with a [hair color] haired girl cuffing the teen as he protested.

"What is your deal ?! I wasn't doing anything !"

Earning a harsh pinch on the ear from the girl.

"I just saw you attempt shooting two member of the plumber's organisation and actively running away from them with no justification. You'll complain to the judge, not me."

"And a super hero !" Ben joins Rook side, looking as perplexed .

"Who are you ?"

The girl turned her head away from the criminal and the omnitrix user. She handed over the criminal to the taller alien.

The multiple rings above her head shining beautifully under the moon, two of them were golden, spiky and crossed, near the back of her head but still large enough to be visible while another less large golden halo floated directly above her head.

She wore a pair of black short and black shirt that went up to the middle of her neck, the shirt exposing her shoulder with lower frilly [favorite color] sleeves over long black sleeves that stopped at her fingers, only exposing her ring and index fingers . On her thighs [favorite] thigh bracelet, and [favorite color] flat shoes.

The many flower and bell trinkets on her stood out : on the three floating rings near her head, on her ankles, her sleeves and her waist.

"I am [name], no last name. I am a

Magister under the plumber organisation and your new partner."

Rook's eyes widened while Ben still looked unimpressed.

"I am Rook Blonko. You really are magister [name] ? It's an honor to meet you." Rook's eyes shined with admiration.

Before Rook could advance towards you, Ben stopped him.

"How can we trust you ?"

The halo floating directly above her head moves in front of her, she puts her hand through it and takes out a plumber badge.

"Excuse me of my tardiness, the day we were all supposed to meet, I was held up by some extraterritorial affair. Don't get the wrong idea, I would rather not work with you." You pointed at Ben. "I only accepted because your grandfather requested it, I could not refuse a request from him. I owe him a lot."

Rook looked excited to work with you, Ben looked tired and disappointed. You walked over in front of them.

"Also..."

The two boys received a slap at the back of their head.

"How could you cause so much damage on your first mission together ?! Do you know how much property damage you've both caused ? Most of the plumber budget is wasted to fix everything you've both damaged ! Have you also thought of some aliens or people that could've been hurt ? Also about some that cannot afford insurance ?"

Ben tried soothing the pain. "Aliens have insurances ?" You pinched the bridge of your nose, already annoyed and tired. You quickly took out your plumbers badge and sent a voice message. "Send compensation to the aliens that have been harmed or have had property damage and make them sign an insurance, over." Ben only grumbles as he went on to checked the weapons the now handcuffed teen had. You stayed on the sideline while your junior plumber was holding onto the criminal, observing what the so called "hero of the universe" would do.

"Alien communicator, alien weapon...Please tell me you're working for somebody big and dangerous so I could kick his but." A vein popped up on your head, Ben Tennyson had to be one of the most obnoxious person you've had to deal in a long while.

The teenager with a red hair strip only scoffed.

"You guys wouldn't last a minute against my boss." The teen smiled proudly.

Humans are such difficult species to deal with...

There was suddenly a weird noise coming from the teen's car engine. Everyone's head turned towards it.

"This doesn't sound like a typical earth combustion engine."

"Well, lest hurry and find out." The three of you walked closer towards the red car.

"Who's opening it ?" You asked, not wanting to open it in case it was some kind of farce or explosion.

Ben looked at you with a smirk. "Ladies first !"

"Shouldn't the male go first ?"Rook responded innocently.

This poor unfortunate soul, he sadly had to partner up with a doofus.

You sighed as you opened the car engine, only to be meet with a cracking yellow container. And just as you expected there was some kind of explosion. Your wing appeared out of reflex as it shielded you and your teammates. Your right wing was as white as snow while your left one was holographic but able to protect Ben from the explosion.

"What the f-" You put your holographic wing over Ben's mouth.

"No swearing when I'm here." Brook looked amazed and shook at the same time.

"A halo, [eye color] and wings...Arr you perhaps an ornix, magister [name] ? Weren't they-"

"We'll talk about it another time. I think we have a bigger issue to deal with."You pointed at the black and yellow humanoid batteries.The little electric creature turned itself into lightening and quickly jumped onto the red hair streak teen that was trying to run away.Opening the metal backpack to reveal another one of his. There was now two megawatts.

"Megawatts ?I haven't seen these guys in years." Ben said in disbelief.

"They are Nosedeenians's from the Nosideen Quasar planet. They are know for being mischievous, not knowing the repercussions of their actions but do not hold any ill will against humans unless provoked." You take out one of the many trinket decorating your halos, specifically a flower formed only with cubes. The moment you touched it, it recognizes you and formed into a tablet with a special pen provided with it. You starts writing down everything that happened until now.

"We get it Einstein but I think the name I found is way better." Ben proudly proclaims.

"Are they registered in the intergalactic data or library ? I think not. Also, who is this Einstein ?" You said while looking at the official information recorded about the species on your tablet.

"Then I'll have to request it, they'll for sure are going to accept mine immediately !" Ben joked, not noticing the side eye you were giving him.

"I doubt it." You returned to looking through some of the files, taking his words literally .

"Your sense of humour is as dry as the Sahara desert..."

"I do not want to interrupt your conversation but what should we do about these Nosedeenians ? I haven't face a nosedeenians until now. Any advice ?" Rook turned towards you and Ben. You all watch the megawatts electrocute the other teen. Before you or Ben could answer, one of the humanoid batteries used its power to pass through the blue alien's weapon only to shock him afterwards.

Ben looked tiredly at Rook being shocked by the two megawatts.

"Try not to let them zap you."

"Is that the only advice you can give ?" You gave him a disappointed look.

"Got any better, miss know it all ?" He asked with sarcasm laced in his voice.

"Good point." One of the batterie like alien was now attempting to zap you. The electricity only passed through your halos and transferred itself to Ben.

"Ow ! Watch it !"

"I can't control where electricity goes." You feigned innocence.

"Can't control my ass ! I can see your huge smile ! How did it even not affect you ?!"

"My halo's can conduct electricity and transfer it wherever I want." You pointed at them "Also as stated before, do not swear in my presence."

"Well now thanks to you, I took your hit." After having their fun, the two Nosedeenians teleported themselves on an electric post. Taunting the three of you and afterwards trying to escape.

"We need to stop them !"

"Already on it." You and Rook said in unison. Rook and Ben started to chase the Nosdeenians while you used your wings to fly after these two little devils. Accidentally leaving behind the edgy teen, leaving him the opportunity to run away.

Even though you were pretty fast with your wings, the Nosedeenians were faster as the they travelled in their electric forms.

"If only we were in a more isolated area..."

You muttered to yourself.

"Says the person who literally is flying."

Ben's voice popped up in your earpiece.

"Which direction did the Nosedeenians take miss [name] ?" Rook's voice joined.

"Left and then straight" You informed them trying to catch up to the Nosedeenians.

You could see from where you were that Ben had transformed into what he called "clockwork" or a chronosapien. Rook had taken another route in hopes of ambushing the two black and yellow batteries. One of them had seen you catching up to them so casted electric shocks your way. You dodged many of them but they still managed to hit you, leading the little gadget creating your left wing to malfunction.

You safely landed near Tennyson, struggling to run in his clock form.

"Glad to see ya join us in this little chase..." Ben, still able to crack a joke even though he could barely breathe.

"Save it, we're losing them."

Your way was blocked by Ben who took a pause from running, too much out of breath.

"You're blocking my way ! Dam it, we've lost them !" You said a bit pissed, not at Ben but at yourself.

If I was able to dodge that beam then we wouldn't be here...

To both of your surprise, the little creatures returned towards you, taunting you.

"Wait could it be..." Before you could finish your sentence, the Nosedeenians were already back running. You and Ben both shared a glance and nodded at each other. You started to push Ben a bit to make him move faster, you weren't the strongest but you were at least trying.

When you arrived near the stairs, Rook cached up. You all watch the Nosedeenians going into of the warehouse. A beeping sound started to go off and shortly, Ben returned to his human form. He was clutching on you for dear life, taking multiple breathes. You really couldn't car less at the moment. Rook appeared worried as he approached the savior of the universe.

"Are you okay, Ben ?"  Ben raised his hand for second to signal for more time.

"Give me a sec, so I don't hurl..." Rook turned his head back at the warehouse. "It's a miracle they didn't escape a chronosapien." Rook commented.

"They must have wanted us to follow them. I see no other reason." You responded. You were starting to get annoyed with the 'savior of the universe' sweating and panting while holding onto you. He better not use you as his personal napkin or puke on you. On the other hand, Rook, being the angel that he is was more preoccupied by Ben's state.

"Do you need more time ?"

"No, but if you see my face turning green, step back."

"Here, have this. It will probably help with your nausea." You take out a [favorite color] flower and handed it to Ben. He looked at you with confusion but you insisted on him sniffing it. As Ben took a few sniff from the flower, his nausea was starting to fade.

"I don't feel sick anymore, what flower is that ?"

You gently put the [favorite color] flower back on your halo. "I think it's best if you don't know. L'est move on, we have noosedeenians to catch up too."

You walked past the boys who only exchanged a shrug with his other partner. The three of you proceeded to run to the warehouse. After carefully entering, you all hid behind crates. The sight of the huge contraption keeping in the Nosedeenians horrified you. They all looked tired and hurt. The two previous Nosedeenians you were after were trying to free their own with no success. One of the two jumped repeatedly and waved his arms at your direction.

"I see it but I don't believe it. The megawatts need our help." Ben said out loud, his voiced echoed through the whole building. You put your hand over Ben's mouth and used your other hand to make a shush sign.

"As plumbers, we need to help every species suffering from the wrongdoings of others and punish them." You whispered.

"Someone has set up a factory that uses them as a power source." Rook whispered. Rook must have seen something as he quickly pushed you and Ben further into the crates to hide. You could feel Ben's little scream on the hand you were using to silence him. Ben pushed your hand over his mouth and gave you an annoyed look. You ignored him and looked at the direction your blue partner was looking at. On the upper level, a boy with a white Mohawk and wearing alien tech passed by. The boy soon noticed the two noosedeenians trying to free the others. He jumps down and uses his machinery to confine the two aliens in it and use them as power sources.

From behind you, you could hear electric sounds approaching you. Your team looked at each other and nodded. Ben kicked the person behind you to the wall.

"Not bad." You commented, quite impress.

"You haven't seen the best-" Ben was cut off, you were all trapped in some kind of electric force field. You gave a deadpan look at Ben while he gave you a nervous grin.

The criminal, Ben had kicked to the wall quickly got up and smiled when he heard the noise of the warehouse door open. A tall men with spiked hair and makeup on his face that resembled a skull entered with the previous edgy teen that ran away before, following behind.

"You better be worth interrupting my workout for." He approached a punching bag.

The subordinates that was holding the three of you hostage in his force field looked at his boss. "Look like spies, Fistrick."

The man named Fistrick throws the towel around his neck off and start punching the punching bad.

"You got spies ? In my house of business ?" He continuously punches.

You took that time to try and fix the engine that helped you fly while Rook was trying to make his electron entanglement disrupter function. He would sometimes silently pat your shoulder so you can help him a bit. Ben on the other hand was having a conversation with Fistrick and his 'business'. By the time they had finished their exchange, Fistrick noticed too late what you and Rook were doing.

The moment the force field was destroyed, Ben had transformed into a segmentasapian or what he called 'Blox' and went to attack Fistrick. Rook was occupied fighting one of the lackeys, you trusted his abilities in combat so let him deal with it alone. You ran towards the main machine that was keeping the Noosedeenians trapped. The system was easy enough for you to hack into it but took some time to load. Before you could actually free them, Fistrick ran towards your direction and pushed you as far as he could from the computer. He activated some kind of button and jumped into a hole that had opened up. Rook and Ben quickly ran your way and helped you get up.

"Are you fine miss [name] ?" Rook asked with genuine worry.

"You did take a pretty violent push." Ben said as he helped you up. You only coughed a bit.

"I'm fine, you get used it with this kind of job." You southed the pain on your butt.

A rumbling was heard from the hole the main criminal jumped into. The three of you took a few steps back when Fistrick reappeared inside a giant robot armor with a smirk.

"You've never asked us why we needed so many of these Noosedeenians." The capsule closes, the little screams of the Noosedeenians could be heard as their energy was forcibly used for the robot. "Lest take this baby for a test drive. It looks like I'm getting my workout after all." The machine starts taking steps towards your team. You all looked a bit surprised but prepared yourselves for the fight.

"A class twelve armored mecha suit. Have any of you dealt with one before ?" Rook looked at both you and Ben. "No, how do you beat it." Ben said seriously, specifically looking at you. "You could try alien X." Rook proposes, Ben sent him a glare. "Stop it."

"I've mostly dealt with diplomatic affairs but even so, our main issues is not how we are going to take down that mech but more like how are we going to take down the mech whiteout hurting the Nosedeenian." Red dots appeared on the three of you. You all looked at where it came from, seeing Fistrick ready to fire.

You quickly ran away before the missiles could shoot you. The last one did hit all of you, you were blown to the other side of the room, the boys were only blown a few feet apart the mech.

"Woooo, I love it !" You could hear Fistrick's happy voice echo, you just wanted to punch him right now. The moment he is out of that machinery, you are so going to pluck out each of his teeth individually...

Calm your murderous thoughts [name]...

Fistrick was more focused on the boys, you used that opportunity to try and fix your wing engine. By the time you had finished fixing it, the fight had been taken outside, with Ben transforming into a Galilean. You activated your engine and your holographic wing appeared, you flew outside and landed on the roof of the warehouse. You didn't know what happened to Rook but you had to help Ben, he was being repeatedly punched by the mech. You used two of your halos to hold back the mech's fists.

"What the...Seems like little lady over there thinks she can play hero." He struggles a bit but manage to take them off and tries to throw them back at you. The halos only come back to their original places and your smirk.

"This pretty lady only needed some extra time."

"What-" He was hit by a crane. You took a few steps aside as the mech was blown away and crashed through the roof and back inside.Rook got out of the vehicle for a second and waved at you "Thank you for your help." You gave him a thumbs up before quickly joining them. Rook turned towards Ben "And you're welcome."

"You guys came in clutch." Your short victory was soon over when Fistrick jumped back outside.

"Weak." He says

"Miss [name], Ben, I think I can separate the megawatts from the suit, but It will be a difficult shot. Try and get the suit to stop moving." Rook yells out

"Yeah, thanks Rook, I'll be onto that."

"We’ll be onto it." You corrected Ben.

"Ok, excuse me but what are we going to do ?"

"Try and submerge him in the nearby water, even though it's a type twelve machine, it has many flaws."

"Already on it."

The red mech ran towards Ben, before it could reach him, Ben used his gravitational powers to throw the machine close by to the water and putting pressure on it. Fistrick tries to relentlessly get up but you used your halos to pin the machines arms down.

"You two got anything else, hero and pretty lady or are you both just one trick ponies." He says mockingly. You royally ignored him, more concentrated on using your free hand to fill out the report for the mission you are currently dealing with on your tablet.

"Hey it's my first time using this guy, and little miss [name] over there probably has more tricks up her sleeve if she is a magister." Ben gave you a sly smile that you ignored in favor of completing your report."You might be able to withstand forty G's, but I don't think the docks can. What do you think ?"

At the exact same time, the docks had crumbled under the pressure. You quickly brought your halos back in their original places before they were submerged in water. Ben continuously put the mech in and out of the water, it looked like Ben was enjoying this a bit too much. You flew to his side and elbowed him.

"Come on, don't be a party popper ! I was just about to stop anyways." Ben laughed a bit.

You gave him a side eye."Tennyson, we have to save the Noosedeenians. Then you can do whatever you want with the perpetrator, that stays in line with the law of course."

"Why do you have to make it sound like I am going to do heinous crimes ?" Ben grimaced a bit.

The mech was now floating in the air, still as a rock. You looked towards Rook and gave him a thumbs up again. The blue alien took a deep breath and shoots his arrows on the back of the red mech. The containers on it all launched into the ground, the glass shattering and freeing all the noosedeenians in it.

"Nice shot !" Ben yelled towards Rook, you quietly applauded. And again, your victory was short lived when multiple missiles were launched at your way. Half of them were after Ben and the other, you.

Before the missiles even had the chance to touch you. One of your halos swiftly moved in front of you, now extended to protect you. All the missiles were swallowed in it with no effort.

"Whoa ! That's a pretty cool trick, mind if I send you more ?" Ben, just discovering his own orbit, was controlling the trajectory of the missiles that were aimed towards him. The same Halo approach Ben's orbit and swallowed all the missiles. A second halo was placed in front of Fistrick's mech.

You looked down at the mech again. Hearing's Fistrick's worry echo in the armor. "This is not good."

You only gave him a cold glare before looking back at your fingers. At a snap, you could launch everything at him.

"Comme on miss, we can make some kind of deal ! I'll give you thirty percent of the profit if you let me go !" The only thing he managed with those words was to piss you off.

"As a magister , my duty is to punish those who harm others and do not abide by the law. Do you think I would stoop so low ? You're only receiving what you deserve."

Snap

All missiles that were engulfed in your halo all come out through the one in front of Fistrick. Sending him and his Mech at the other side of the dock.

You only dusted yourself off as you approached Ben and Rook. They were quite shaken by how scary you looked a few moments ago. You only look at them confused. "Is there something on my face ?" You frowned.

"No, ma'm !" They both exclaimed at the same time. You shrugged it off, and walked ahead of them to go arrest the criminal and clean off the area.

"That wasn't easy." Rook said tiredly.

Ben transformed back into a human and looked at Rook with a smile. "It never is."

"Are you two coming ?" You called out.

Ben and Rook jumped out of fear.

"And also scary." Rook whispered shouted at Ben.

"Talk about new partner..." Ben whispered shouted back.

You all waited for a plumber team to arrive and clean the scene. All the criminals were arrested. You finish off the report and send it off back at HQ. Uncle Max happily walked over to the three of you with his own tablet and pen. You looked up at him with respect.

"I heard there's a colony of megawatts that helps power undertown." He informed.

That's weird, you've never heard of this information before...

"Since when ?" Ben voiced your thoughts out.

Uncle Max pointed at a direction and your gazes follow. "Since now."

All the megawatts that were saved, all entered a tube and waves back with huge grins at your team. It is a pretty nice ending.

"Anytime guys." Ben saluted the megawatts with some kind of earthling sign. You probably will have to study more on human culture...

"Don't the Tennyson legends usually end with some kind of blended beverage." Rook asked curiously.

"Are Tennyson's stories really that popular in plumber school ?" You ask Rook, intrigued by the beverage. Rook nodded and you let out a hum.

"You guys mean smoothies ?" Ben shakes one of his arms. "Nah, they're more of a daytime thing. At night, it's chilly fries!" Ben walked off in the plumber spaceship with one of his arms pumped up upwards

"Are those some kind of frozen meal ?" You ask, you've never heard of such foods before. You quietly joined Ben in wherever you all were going. You had finished all your paperwork currently. Might as well indulge yourself a little tonight.

"Okay." Rook seemed a bit exasperated with the food mentioned.

As the spaceship was taking off Ben had to mention one last thing. "By the way, Alien X is real."

"Why can't I see it ?" Rook asked.

"Mister Blonko has quite a valid reason to not believe you, Tennyson." You retorted back.

"You can just call me Rook, magister [name]. I don't deserve such title from a magister like you !"

You looked the other way. "Fine, mister Rook but I believe I believe your skills are really phenomenal. I am not as impressive as you are."

"Nonsense, you are one the youngest magister in history. You deserve every merit give magister [name]. Do not call me by any title. Just Rook."

You looked down the ground. "Okay, Rook. Then only call me [name] then." You muttered, loud enough for Rook and Ben to hear the hint of hesitation in your voice. Rook smiled and gave your a thumbs up. Now his attention was back on Ben

"But still, why can't I see alien X, Ben ?"

"Guys...there's some things you're gonna have to trust me on."

"Show us some proof then. With no proof , your words are as hollow as your mind, Tennyson."

"Hey ! What did I do ?!"

Chapter 2

[thatonebirdwrites]

Garden

Nestled in the corner of a shallow alleyway, a garden drapes its vines and blooms with squash and herbs. It's a public garden, one where the community upkeeps it, but most are aliens with little to no money for food. Many can't tolerate much of Earth's plants, but the beloved gardener has found a solution for them. A fourth of the garden, nestled up against the fence, is a line of pots filled with specialized soil.

Each pot holds a different plant from some other world. A world where that alien species once lived before they fled to Earth.

One person comes regularly to this garden. This beloved gardener tends each plant with care, provides the alien nutrients to the pots, and sits in the dirt to dwell in the solitude. Her thoughts and life beyond the garden a mystery for most of the community, but one they respect.

One of the elders, a Czarnian with red eyes and white skin, asks the beloved gardener why she comes daily. "Is it not an imposition? You seem important to the cultures of this world."

She smiles and shakes her head. "Gardening is a hobby of mine, and I want to give back somehow, considering the evils my family has done. What better way than to ensure food is available to those that need it?" She gestures to the garden. "Besides, it's fun to learn of your people's food. To find a way to grow it here."

It's the first hint she's ever given of her past. Sometimes alien children ask her questions about her life, but she shakes her head and asks if they'd like to hear a tale instead.

Her stories ripple with adventure, discoveries, and great battles. The mythology unknown to most in the community, but curious young visit the library to discover most her tales herald from Ireland. A small island country far, far to the east.

As the years pass, most in the community have heard of her or seen glimpses of her. Her research into alien plants devised the pots and the very specific soil mixtures needed. For that they are grateful, for the increasing yields of edible plants fights to curtail their rates of hunger.

Few in the alien community know her name, and those that do keep her secret. Most days, she wears a sweatshirt with NCU emblazoned across its front, and she always wears sunglasses and a hood. She's short, they know, with pale skin. Sometimes she walks with a limp, while other days she navigates with a cane.

She doesn't look old to those who encounter her in the garden, but an old injury seems to haunt her hips. Some members offer healing, but she always shakes her head with a wry smile.

"It's my own fault," she says in explanation when an inquisitive youth asks. "And serves as a reminder of what's at stake."

Another brief glimpse into her mysterious past. She first came years ago, after a brutal and vicious attacks by Cadmus massacred aliens all across the United States. At first, the community watched her with fear, curiosity, and concern.

But she built them a garden. Brought the soil, tended each plant, and over time, the community opened up to her. A few daring to speak with her. Over time, they learn she rarely speaks of herself, but she carries grief across her young shoulders.

On a very rare day, she comes with a blond and blue-eyed reporter, one who always writes in support of the community.

When she does speak, she provides tips for offshoots of the alien plants, how to grow them at home, ways to craft the soils using local minerals. Her tips are invaluable, her presence respected and beloved.

Until one day she doesn't tend the gardens.

At first the community doesn't think much of it. Sometimes people fall ill, and humans are notorious for it.

But then another day passes, and a third, fourth, and fifth. Never has she been absent that long.

Something is wrong.

A few of the teenagers, some orange-skinned aliens and one blue-skinned Aloi, decide to seek Supergirl. To ask for her help in finding their beloved gardener. They argue over the best way to call for her, and decide to shout it from the rooftop of a nearby apartment building.

Only seconds later Supergirl descends in her full regalia. The blue and red suit with her family's crest emblazoned on her chest.

The Aloi, who took the human name Thomas years ago, steps forward, anxiously. "Supergirl, our beloved gardener is missing. Can you help?"

"Of course! When did you last see them and where?"

Ye'uer, a tall, orange-skinned Margoi, says, "Five days ago, she tended our garden. We played nearby to watch."

"Wait, she's been missing for five days?" Supergirl asks. Her hands are on her hips and her gaze both concerned and stern.

Thomas shifts from foot to foot and nods, while Ye'uer stutters a defense. "We thought she might be ill so didn't want to intrude, but she's never missed a day before."

"What does she look like?"

Ye'uer hands over a copy of a photo someone took last year. One of the few they have of their beloved gardener.

It shows her digging in the dirt with a trowel, a peaceful smile on her face. It's one of the few times any of them have seen her slide her sunglasses atop her head, the shade in that corner heavy. One eye is greener than the other, which holds a bluer hue.

Supergirl sucks in her breath sharply. "Oh, oh no. I know her." Her hands shake as she hands back the photo. "I promise you, I will find her."

The three youths nearly cry in relief. Ye'uer's brother, the youngest, grasps Supergirl's hands in his reptilian grip. "Please, please will you let us know? We go to the garden after our lessons, when the sun graces the horizon."

"I will." Supergirl hugs him, and opens her arms for the others. They crowd together to wrap up the superhero tightly.

She leaves in a gust of wind that blows cups and bags further down the alley. The youths turn and head to the garden to wait.

As more days pass, a vigil starts in the early evening, where more and more of the community offer trinkets and offerings to the growing forest of candles. The youths take turns caring for the candles and the gardens, while the elders cast wide their networks for any news pertaining to their beloved gardener.

Supergirl drops in only to say that she's still working the case. That they're closer to finding her. Any leads the elders offer, she takes time to listen carefully. Out of respect, no one speaks the gardener's name, even though many in the community have come to realize who exactly she is.

But they don't fear her true name. They have seen her spirit, her kindness, and they have been fed from her genius, the food of their ancestors once again thriving because of her tender care.

One month and six days since her disappearance, those free in the community gathers for their vigil once more. Kids tend to the garden, the adults hum their songs, and candles adorn every surface. A few have brought instruments crafted from wood their beloved gardener found, so that they could once more make the music from their homeworld.

Her touch is everywhere, and the community fears her loss. She seemed so young, surely she could not have died?

That evening, near eight pm, two figures round the corner and enter the alley. One walks with crutches, while the other with the long red cape hovers anxiously at her side.

"Darling," the familiar voice says, "It's okay. I need to do this. I'm late enough already."

When the pair enter the square, the beloved gardener stops in surprise. She wears no glasses and no sweatshirt this time. Only clad in blue jeans and a long-sleeved green blouse. Her hair hangs in gentle waves around her face, and a leg sits in a cast.

Several elders in the comment stand in wonder and relief. "You've returned," Toc, the elder of the Ardenans. He steps forward and holds out his hands, palm up, his orange skin lighter across his palm, and his claws trimmed back. "Welcome, beloved gardener."

The gardener looks at Toc and those assembled behind him -- the Aloi, Ardenans, Changralynians, Criqian, Glirellians, and many more alien species, all refugees, all grateful for the beloved gardener's humble work.

"Are -- are you here for me?" the gardener says, astonished.

"They're the ones who alerted me to you missing," Supergirl says, softly. "I'd been getting texts from you, but after they came to me, we tracked the texts and that eventually led us to you."

Tears shine in the gardener's eyes. "I'm not deserving of this welcome. Surely you all know who I am? Who my family is?"

"We do not care for your family," Toc says, resolutely. He gestures to another elder, a genderless and orange-skinned Tynolan.

"We understand you are Lena Luthor," the Tynolan says, their voice quiet and yet echoes across the garden. Stepping forward, they offer up a necklace. "You have helped our people survive. Gave us the tools to thrive. We can do no less. We are in your debt."

Lena's hand trembles as she picks up the necklace. "It's the least I can do," she says. "to make up for my family's wrongs."

"But what of you?" the Tynolan says. "Your legacy exceeds their own. You have brought life to where there was none. Let us at least give you protection, so you may not suffer alone."

"It's a magical artifact," Supergirl says. "To provide protection against most attacks. A sort of field if I understand correctly?" She glances at the Tynolan, who nods and gives a small bow before stepping back among the others.

"Thank you," she murmurs, stunned still.

"We've glad you're back!" Ye'uer can't contain himself, and he darts forward to wrap his arms around Lena's waist. "We missed you."

Tears fall down Lena's face, and she pats his back. "I've missed you too."

From that day forward, the beloved gardener rarely tends the gardens alone. Her daily visits once more grace the community, but some days she works with Supergirl, who steals a kiss every now and then.

Other times, alien children come to hear her tales of wisdom and learn her techniques.

On days when she seeks quiet, the elders work in parallel with her own efforts. None speaking but each treasuring the quiet warmth of each other's presence.

Together, the gardens grow and flourish under their care.

[nynyhaha]

I always insisted that Chrollo was a human being with emotions, but since his backstory confirmed that he used to be NORMAL at some point, I mourn the version in my head where he had always struggled to understand the purpose and value of life

Because yes, I am very happy that his childhood wasn’t pure hell and that Meteor City takes care of their kids rather than being a dog-eat-dog anarchy jungle.

But where is my beloved alien Chrollo who had no community before he founded the troupe? Where’s the one who never had an identity to lose and for whom being the Troupes Leader was a genuinely good opportunity?

What about the Spider that was made just because, that was as ambiguous in its goals as it is now?

Will the Chrollo who related to the mc in Camus’ “The Stranger” never come back and stay only as an incorrect headcanon?

Chrollo, I always knew your tears were real, I just didn’t know if you knew that. And I liked you even when people saw you as a sociopath unable to understand his even own Troupe members.

[cityzenshark]

Out of curiousity, what were your thoughts on Rescue Bots? I can’t speak for RBA, but I feel like Rescue Bots has been better written and more consistent in writing/characterisation than most TF shows. Earthspark seemed to he going in the right direction but fell flat comparison/tried to do much too quickly/zigzag between ‘made for kids’ and ‘dark and gritty’

I can't say much about Rescue Bots either because I don't watch it. However, judging from some snippets I've seen and this fanfic series (I highly recommend it if you want a Dreadwing lives!AU), RB handled itself much better than Earthspark because they know the limits of their premise. ES doesn't seem to properly explore their own premise, forces 'mature' themes into its story until it strays from its main theme.

Long elaborations ahead. I didn't expect to type this much...

Like most existing shows, the Rescue Bots are a group of Cybertronians who landed on Earth. What differentiates them from the usual premise is that they're a neutral party. The story is set on an isolated island and community, naturally sparing it from the grittiness of TF Prime. If 'fitting in' was a recurring theme at one point, I doubt they have much to worry about because locals of the island know Cybertronians as helpful aliens doing their service, not murder machines who hate humanity and Earth. The war was kept well hidden from humanity, too.

ES has a great premise already. A new subspecies of Transformers born on Earth and into a recently post-war era gets adopted by a human family.

However I hardly see anything about family bonding, let alone proper family dynamics. It's like the writers had this one dimensional view of how a good family works and tries to pass it of as relatable.

Sometimes it also had this odd feeling of "You must do [insert serious subject] like this and only like this. Shame on you if you do it other ways." It's as if they don't allow the audience to decide for themselves and it'll give off the wrong impression. Kids who do catch it will likely get annoyed.

Judging from ES's premise, I thought the main goal of the story was the Terrans finding their place on Earth as a new native race; the main obstacle being the aftereffects of war with Cybertronians disrupting the Terrans understandings about themselves meanwhile Mandroid represents humanity's scars caused by Cybertronians. It sounds mature enough for kids to understand, like "Avatar" cartoons and "His Dark Materials" books.

Except the show doesn't make an effort for their mature topics to feel serious. They plopped them out of the blue, resolved it in a weird way or forgotten about it, and called it a day. There's no eventuality or continuations. It's forgetful. "Power of Family" later changed to "Power of the Chosen Ones". Every member of the family agrees to everything each other does with no real trouble. So much for "finding what it means to be family", huh?

TLDR; Rescue Bots had better writing because the story explored the entirety of its limited premise meanwhile EarthSpark has potentials with its premise but their lack of logic, exploration and respect to their own lore and main cast messes up the story delivery and message, especially regarding topics that resonate in real life.

Edit: Most importantly, RB treats their main characters as main characters. A non-viewer like me can distinguish who's who. The police car, the helicopter, the firetruck who looks done with everything, the chief and his son. ES kept discarding the Terrans & Maltos that viewers care more about side characters who already had their limelight elsewhere. I'm neutral about the Terrans because of how they appear as arrogant and obnoxious newbies, not overconfident and naive youngsters.

[rpgchoices]

Sometimes I really want to read a short summary of what to expect from a game with a very particular description that CATER to my OWN SPECIFIC interests, so here we go.

(click here for other videogames)

what to expect from THE SYMBIANT

T-tentacles

Gay visual novel, male protagonist

Visual novel, not a lot of choices, dialogue is voiced (characters are voiced, narration is not voiced)

This is a mature and explicit game, tho most of the scenes are actually skipped/fade to black (on steam, the censored version)

To play the uncensored version you'll have to install the free adult patch from steam or from itch io (here)

There are only four characters in the whole game

The story is set in a future where humans and different aliens species live together in peace, and going to different planets is as simple and casual as going on holiday to the sea

You play as Danya, a cargo ship pilot who accepts Brahve (an alien) as a passenger

Both Danya and Brahve use he/him

The only three characters are Danya (you), Brahve (your love interest) and Juni (your friend and other crew member on the ship)

There is some nice dialogue that sets the world, with a lot about plants, foods, cultures, kink, polyamory, relationships etc.

Also Juni is a lesbian

And Brahve is canonically polyamorous

The story is mainly about Brahve's secret (he is hiding something) and the attraction between Danya and Brahve

Not much angst in the story

There are three endings: good, okay and very bad

I will add some more points under spoilers, as I will spoil Brahve's secret:

Brahve's species is weak to different diseases when they travel outside their planet, but Brahve (who is a scientist) has found a plant-like-tentacle creature who can help him. Him and this creature are in a symbiosis relationship

The creature (Oatith) communicates through feelings and is sustained by having sex (also Brahve uses he/him for him)

The main core plot of the game is that Danya (your character) needs to come to terms with Brahve having this symbiotic creature in his life, and accepting to be part of it

Tentacles.

The game also talks about kink and d/s (ex. impact play and recognizing tentacles as an actual kink)

Be careful that in a route the game has a scene with consensual-non-consent

If you install the adult patch you will get extra nsfw skippable scenes, which are also voiced

plot? Brahve is a new passenger on Danya and Juni's ship but he is hiding some strange plant. The whole plot revolves around the attraction between Brahve and Danya and Brahve's mysterious symbiont. gameplay? Minimal choices, to be honest I felt like most of the choices had no consequences if not a few at the end. Visual novel. characters? 3, 4 if you count the symbiont but his personality is kind of hidden sadness level? low

[thedreadvampy]

I think the thing that worries me about many approaches to mutual aid (and this isn't a criticism OF mutual aid, nor is it a new or unique concern) is yeah, that need for systematisation and, honestly, an amount of alienation that a lot of small communities are currently not super able to create.

like as somebody who grew up in a family shouldering the burden of failure of care. there's stuff you as a family member or friend or community member can and should do to support loved ones, and it's hard and unpleasant work at times but it needs doing.

but then on the other hand there's stuff that can only really effectively be done by someone whose relationship to that person is more distant and care-specific. because the burden of carrying on that close relationship can really get in the way, for both people, of the care work that needs to happen Right Now. and vice versa.

the need for more depersonalised/professionalised care can look like a lot of things. from being someone with a serious injury who doesn't want people they're close to to see them naked and vulnerable, to someone finding their resentment towards a parent make it hard for them to care for them in old age, to people who burn friendships out by being there through someone's violent manic episodes. it looks like adequate personal/professional boundaries with a therapist, so that you know that the session is just about you and not about them. it looks like being able to care for someone who's consistently vile and aggressive towards you because you know that at the end of the day you'll finish your shift and walk away into a space where you can take care of yourself.

like that's what a system where people don't fall through the cracks has to look like - a balance between what we owe each other through loving relationships, and what is best done by someone who isn't personally connected to the person needing care.

professionalised care isn't enough on its own. we all need community and personal relationships - and all of us will sometimes need to grit our teeth and weather some storms and go out of our way to keep that going.

but equally community care isn't enough on its own either. often we end up having to choose between being someone's friend/lover/family and being their carer, because they can be mutually exclusive. often we don't get a choice, because there's nowhere else they're getting that care. but your relationship doesn't come through unharmed and equal if you're regularly having to put your own wellbeing aside to provide in-depth care for someone. it can't. that affects both of you a lot. it affects power dynamics. it builds mutual resentments. it puts you in a position of either burning yourself out or abandoning them, and it puts them in a position of constantly mitigating their needs to keep you.

Like, when we talk about how in a fully functional community, shitty, unpleasant and miserable-to-be-around people can't be left without support, this is part of that. but also it's part of managing the tendency to burn ourselves and each other out and lose love by trying to be all things to all people.

there have to be some sort of distancing structures in place for some kinds of care - both physical and mental. idk what that looks like necessarily - shift rotas, committees, nominated carers without close existing ties, idk - but it can't just sit solely within existing friendships and relationships.

I do think a lot of communities understand this need, but communities working on mutual support and mutual aid often just straight up lack the resource and capacity to NOT be doing this in a close knit group. I don't know how to resolve this. but I've seen enough examples of people throwing themselves into the fire over and over again to the detriment of both the carer and the caree to know that it needs resolving.

[nugulover69]

I too am a member of the Taiya-hater club and every episode I question why I'm not dropping this show until they show me scraps of Mira or Agent Shirabe or the Three Idiots, but I think from now on I'll be fastforwarding through new eps just for them. My only sentai are Zenkai and halfway through Donbros so being forced to watch Boonboom Red as the main character is like beibg fed cardboard after a pizza.

Oh man. if your only sentai experience is zenkai and donbros, two very experimental and Not A Typical Sentai sentais, yeah boonboom must hit a real sour note since its a return to basics lol

I personally wouldn't call it bad so far, a solid B+ imo, but Taiya is def the weakest character, and his blandness is only more evident whenever an episode is focused on him

I can suggest some good sentais that are more typical in structure for you to watch in the future:

Gokaiger- the core team is phenomenal here, bursting with personality and incredible chemistry between each of them. this IS an anniversary sentai, meaning past rangers are constantly showing up to be apart of the plot, but you do NOT need to have seen their shows to get the gist and have a fun time. you're following the gokaigers and their character arcs are always the main focus. plus they're aliens (space pirates even) that don't know jackshit abt Earth, so you and them are on the same level of knowledge lol

Idk why folks don't recommend this as a starter sentai more often. it was my first ever sentai and I picked the next sentais I watched based on how entertained I was by a past characters appearance. its how I watched go-onger and carranger (and liveman but I don't wanna talk abt that)

Also Marvelous is best red. this is an objective fact we as a community all agree on, even if he's not our own personal favorite red

Speaking of go-on

Go-onger- the canon, main strength of this team is their stupidity. VERY CARTOONY, heavy on hijinks, light on serious plot (it was written by a veteran kids anime writer and boy can you tell). if you like loud genki kinda assholeish shonen protags than you'll love the red Sosuke. if you don't...perhaps skip this one lol. Sosuke is a biiiig make or break of someone's enjoyment of go-on. the villains are great tho, very team rocket, kinda like the Sanseaters in boonboom

(and its a much better car sentai. Speedor is there all the time. boonboom only has Speedor for one episode. I rest my case)

Zyuohger- if you need an animal sentai under your belt, this is the best one. the red, Yamato, does get more focus than the rest of the team (many more power ups as well) but he's a likeable character played by a guy who can actually act. GREAT VILLAINS, they evolve over time as well and I can't say much w/o spoiling things, but I'll just say Genis caused his own demise

Also I haven't seen donbros but I know the donbros sixth is deranged, so if you need more deranged sixths in your life you should watch zyuoh for Misao

Gekiranger- if you really love serialized story telling and characters growing and changing and all that, I cannot recommend geki enough. in a lot of sentai, the weapons are usually just found or given, which isn't inherently a bad thing but I can see why someone wouldn't care for that. every weapon and power up the gekis get is always earned thru them overcoming some obstacle, literal or figurative, so its that much more rewarding when the new Marketable Touy is used

Also they're kung fu fighting cats. did I mention they're kung fu fighting cats. the red was raised in the woods and literally acts like a feral animal most of the time. he does mellow out over the course of the show, but honestly if someone doesn't like Jan from the jump I don't trust them (he has CRAZY yaois with the main villain Leo btw)