#i still think they are women i also think they are still white and still think they have some masculine invincibility to criticism

[nickssidewitch]

Saying that the triplets are misogynistic/sexist is fucking stupid.

But, of course, that doesn’t excuse the way that they speak about women/girls in their conversations (and even the exaggerated conversations on camera), and the impact it can have on people who are unfamiliar with their content / those who may genuinely be impacted by that rhetoric.

Two things can be true at once, and I feel like we forget this.

We forget that humans beings are multifaceted. Someone can be a nice person, but still have certain behaviors that can be wrong/microaggresive/unfair/prejudiced, and/or promote these harmful ways of thinking/behaving.

I'm writing a whole damn essay on this because I have time, I'm on break, and I do enjoy these boys' content to the point where I can call them out for harmful words/behavior without bias.

These men have shown numerous times their admiration for women and their bodies- not just the women they have close personal connections to, but also those who are their peers, those who are fans of theirs, and just the general population of women and girls. There are multiple clips** of them speaking highly and positively of women/girls in their personal lives, female fans' own accounts of experiences with them, and just the way the boys speak about women in general.

**Note: I mention the use of clips as the main evidence here since clips are what have started this conversation in the first place- some as examples of their positive behavior, and some as examples of their negative words.

That being said, however, some of their conversations where women/girls are the subjects are too aggressive and violent. Yes, we know damn well- based on previous rhetoric and behaviors they've shown around women/girls on and off camera- that the boys would never intentionally harm a woman/girl for simply being a woman/girl. However, that doesn't really mean anything since their words can be harmful and incite the ideas that "you can hit a woman, even if you are a man", or "you can make jokes about hitting a woman as a man".

Some of the words they've used are along the lines of literal murder and physical harm, all because the women/girls in the situations were of inconvenience to them in those situations. Yes, they were frustrated in those situations, but using that form of vernacular is simply extra as fuck. Like, we get it, she called you a 13-year old boy. But joking about shanking her is extra and simply wrong.

Even using the word "bitch" in these scenarios can be harmful, since it can present itself as if those boys actually believe that women are female dogs who need to be put on a leash, caged, and bred (since that's literally the history of why bitch has been used to describe female Homo sapiens). It is a real problem to use that term in the contexts of which they say it, since they are using it in situations where women are of inconvenience, as I've stated before. And historically, since the dawn of that word's etymology, whenever a woman was an inconvenience to men, she was called a... Fill in the blank.

Another argument that can be used here is "but they say things like this about men as well, so it's equal game". My rebuttal to that is simply "That's not the point". Saying the same things about a non-marginalized group does not clear you from being guilty of saying these things about marginalized groups that can have real detrimental impacts (in this situation, we are referring to women). That's like a white guy arguing to a rightfully offended black man, "Oh, I call everybody ghetto, so you shouldn't be offended just because I called you ghetto." The point in that situation is that the word "ghetto" is actually derogatory and has been used for centuries to put down black/brown groups. So in the context of using harmful words about women, the issue is the fact that you're saying them about a woman.

Not to put my own experiences or accounts into this as a sort of "defense" (because I'm definitely not defending them and you'll see how and why as you continue to read this paragraph), but growing up in the Northeast of the United States, the way the triplets speak is common for a lot of men, especially white men. They don't have a sense of their words being either a potential trigger for women/girls around them or that those words can be a catalyst for harmful, misogynistic behavior, simply because some of them claim they would never do this, or because they genuinely have never done this. Actions speak louder than words, duh, but in their case (including the triplets), rhetoric plays a big role in the influence of those actions, and the results can be horrible, even if the actions are not being done by those who originally spoke those words.

If the boys ain't aware of this shit now, they gotta be aware of it by damn well tomorrow because they are in the public eye, and it is simply harmful for them to speak the ways they do on a major, public platform, especially to an impressionable group who makes up the most of their demographic (tween/teen white people).

And Nick is not exempt because he's gay, by the way. I've seen this argument be used to support Nick not being a misogynist/sexist too many times, and it is simply the dumbest statement to use in that argument. A gay man can still be misogynistic/sexist, and can still use harmful rhetoric about women. They are still men.

I still like and appreciate the boys and their content, which is why I even put in some time to write all this shit, even if it ain't gonna be posted on other platforms, and even if they won't ever see this.

And if they don't see this, hopefully there's some people in their corner who can be a buffer for the boys to realize their mistakes and hold themselves accountable. Hopefully they can educate themselves on these topics and change their game?

[zepskies]

hiii lovely happy wednesday 🫶🏽:) random question while i’m on my 10 :D this kind of goes hand in hand with your coffee shop headcanons if you squint, but in your opinion what coffee shop pastry would the boys (your favorite jackles characters) choose? 🤎

if that makes sense, like I think beau would really like our dulce de leche cheese danish :p or like ben might like a jalapeño cheese bagel lmao

again I loveee your insights <3 it makes work more entertaining for sure cause then i’m thinking of your responses at random times lol 💗 + I hope you’re having a wonderful week !!🫂

Happy Wednesday, friend! 😘 Oh yay! I love your random questions, and I love coffee shop pastries. 🥐 ☕

Dulce de leche Danish sounds amaziiiiing. 😩 And thank you!! I'm flattered that you love my insights - and that my little rambles infiltrate your brain! lolol 🥰💜 Hope you're having a great week too, hun! Mine is ok so far. I have a lot coming up tomorrow, so this is a fun distraction until then! 😂

HEADCANON: Coffee Shop Pastry Orders

Dean Winchester

*snorts* You mean the human garbage disposal?

We all know Dean's not picky about food. Though since he's drinking an espresso in his coffee order headcanon, I think he'd go for something indulgent to fill his stomach, like a cheese Danish, a couple of donuts, or if they have it, a brookie. 😂

He's very happy to show it to you and Sam when he brings it over to your table, strolling over on those bowed legs. Sam, of course, wears that half amused, half judgy look of his.

"It's a cookie mashed up with a brownie, Sam. Best of both worlds."

Beau Arlen

Beau the basic latte guy needs a basic (but delicious) coffee shop confection to go with it, so I'm going to say he's into coffee cake.

He likes them crumblies on top and a nice, warm cinnamon swirl in his cake. 👌🏽

Just be warned. He's probably going to have you order him another slice of cake while he's still working on the first one.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Like Dean, this guy's not all that picky about food post-captivity. Of course he likes good food, but he's also highly indulgent in most respects.

"I like what I fucking like," as he often tells you with a smirk. That goes for food, drugs, and frisky women (of almost all ages).

That being said, since we paired him with a cold brew, he'll probably want something classic, like himself: a glazed donut or a slice of marble pound cake with that thin strip of icing on top.

However, I think he could be persuaded (by you) to order something a little adventurous. He'd be game enough to try a jalapeño cheese bagel, with hash browns, and that donut and/or slice of pound cake on the side...

And he'll probably tell them to pack him up an extra bagel for the road. 😂 🥯

Russell Shaw

Russell's another one who's highly self-indulgent lol. He ain't picky about food, that's for sure. He'll eat junk food just as easily as a five-course meal from a Michelin star restaurant.

But since he got paired with a flat white, I think he'd get the biggest cinnamon roll he can find. He'd ask if they could warm it up for him, get that icing all warm and running down the sides, sticky and sweet.

And he looks at you mischievously while he licks his fingers afterward. ✌🏼

(He's only satisfied when he makes you blush.)

AN: Do you agree with these? Got other pastry orders for these guys? 💜

I love working on these HCs every time, no matter how simple or complex the prompt is. 😂

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Dean, Beau, Soldier Boy + Russell Tag List (Part 1)

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[doberbutts]

this whole debate regarding transmasculinity is so weird for me because it's like, i see the argument that trans men benefit from transmisogyny, and i just... don't think that's true? like, a lot of these discussions seem to take phrases from discussions about white privelege and replace "white" with "tme", which just doesn't really make sense. perhaps i'm looking at things wrong, but i'm unsure how trans men would benefit at all from transmisogyny. are there transmisogynistic trans guys who throw trans women under the bus? yes, just like there are binary trans people that throw non-binary and gnc trans people under the bus. every anti-trans law and ruling hurts all trans people. the uk supreme court ruling has been used as an example of trans men not being effected by anti-trans policy, but that ruling did not say trans men were allowed into women's spaces. it said trans men aren't allowed in men's or women's spaces. that doesn't mean that trans men are worse off from that ruling than trans women, but especially with how much "tme privilege" is compared to white privilege, i feel like people really play up the differences between trans men and trans women, when in reality i think we have a lot more in common regarding our life experiences than we do differences.

So this is sort of a multi-faceted thing here.

I don't necessarily have a problem with the understanding that if all else was exactly the same about me except I was a trans woman (or even a cis woman!) instead of a trans man, that my life would probably be harder and I would face challenges that I simply do not face in my day to day life. I think that is objectively true. Just as I think it is objectively true that I could live the exact life I currently live right now as a woman- I would just have to date slightly different people. I've even offered this opinion unprompted in conversation about gender multiple times.

I just think that this is a hypothetical, and that the chances of me running into someone with literally the exact same life as me with a single gender difference is fairly low, because there are a near infinite amount of combinations of various intersections and identities and a significantly smaller number of people who live in my geographic area. There are some who get close- like my Canadian friend- but she also has a number of differences which do dramatically impact the way she lives her life vs the way I live mine.

Which at that point makes the "who is more oppressed" point moot- because the other person's life may differ so significantly from mine and their point of view may consider something worse than my point of view. For instance, the trans woman who mentored me in college felt that being murdered is worse than being raped. I have the opposite opinion, that being raped is worse than being murdered. Unsurprisingly, the violence that affects our respective demographics is directly reflected in our feared "worst outcomes". It's a matter of perspective, and there isn't one right answer to two horrific acts of violence regularly enacted upon the transgender community as a whole.

She had the opinion that we both had the right to use the word transmisogyny to discuss the differences and similarities of how we were treated from "both sides" of the gender equation. To this day I still think her framework made more sense than a significant amount of what I see online. But people have called me an MRA for *checks notes* listening to the trans woman who taught me most of my basic queer politics.

I don't think that what trans men vs trans women experience as a demographic are that different. I think what differences do exist are largely the same hate coming from the same place, wearing a different face depending on who it's directed towards and what assumption that person has made about their victim.

And I think a lot of people are caught up on a "finished product" as the mental pictures of their theory and not the in-progress or still-closeted portions of their own communities. Sure, a guy like me who passes for cis in 99% of situations nets a lot of situational male privilege. But does the teenage trans guy with a Disney Princess name who can't breathe a word to any of his friends and desperately wants to kill himself while his parents deny him access to gender-affirming care and force him to wear push up bras and short skirts and heels and make up? Because that was me too, and I'd love to know what male privilege I experienced as I was pinned to the ground while they put makeup on me, while I was flashed by strangers on the bus, while I was sexually assaulted by a classmate.

There is this disconnect as though anything we've experienced prior to coming out no longer exists, and as though simply coming out fixes the entire situation and the male privilege fairy comes down from the clouds to deliver our he/him pronouns herself. Sorry, but I was on the receiving end of a whole lot of misogyny and misogynoir until suddenly I wasn't because I looked too much like a man for people to continue to treat me like a woman. I've known I'm transgender since I was 13. That day didn't hit until I was 30.

Do trans men have the ability to lean into transmisogyny in order to benefit from it? Sure. But so does Caitlyn Jenner on a fairly regular basis, so I don't think you have to necessarily not be a trans woman in order to do so. Kanye West has benefited quite highly from his own antiblackness, despite being modern white supremacy dancing monkey. Cis women on the Supreme Court voted against abortion rights. Musk is an immigrant and Trump is a felon and they both are gleefully enacting policies to hurt immigrants and felons. Being *able* to wield oppressive structures to hurt others you see as below you does not require you to be in a different demographic than those people. It just requires you to have a slightly different experience as a result of a different intersection.

[drdemonprince]

Hi Devon !

I just listened to your newest YouTube reading of your Substack and it made me realize that I have a different understanding than you of Sizhen’s gender framework, or perhaps am still developing my understanding of it.

You describe yourself in the piece as, through failing to join the Power gender, a Faggot-Subaltern. Other writings of yours describe experiencing some social privilege of having been perceived as masculine, and we both agree that our transmisogyny-exempt status renders us by average safer than our TMA siblings. In my understanding of Sizhen’s framework, this would render you closer to the Not-Power gender category, making transition something of a lateral move: away from Some misogyny but towards transphobia. Or, rather, in different gender categories depending on the power systems that be: given some power in comparison to TMA folks, recognized socially at times as an ally to other Not-Power folks against the subaltern of the transfem, but an otherwise marginalized category that is used as a threat to those within the cisgender hierarchy. Perhaps this perspective of conditionality is not the purpose of the framework; I’d like to hear what you think.

This also made me think about other scenarios where marginalized gendered folks engage in respectability politics - transmeds, transandrobros, and the like. Would you describe them as claiming Not-Power status against a Faggot-Subaltern for profit, safety, and success? Or is their ultimate failure in doing so a sign that they are in fact Faggot-Subaltern?

Thanks for reading !

I would say that the 'Not-Power' category is, predominately in our society, the category that cis women are relegated to and enjoy certain privileges within, and my trans masculinity doesn't slot me into that category so much as expel me from it. I was in not-Power when I was moving through the world as more or less a cishet woman. As a man, I'm theoretically aligning myself with the Power category, and my masculine qualities often afford me a lot of the privileges that come with being in the Power category, at least relative to those around me (I have always worked in fields filled with women, queer people, and men of color, and so I can access the privileges of white manhood relative to them). However, I'm also someone people yell "faggot" at on the street who cannot pass as a straight man for more than a thirty second interaction. And it's abundantly clear in how other men and cis women relate to me that I'm faggotized, as the sizhen system post talks about. If you're in the faggot subaltern, you pretty well know it, and I know it immediately in the way other men physically relate to me. It's a mix of condescending feminization, dehumanization, and imparsability that's very distinct. (it's hot as fuck when it's some big burly masc guy throwing my over his shoulder and dragging me home at the gay bar, and even kind of cute when it's a straight man in line at the walgreens smelling my hair, but not so cute when i'm alone on a train platform at night and a crowd of drunk Cubs fans is approaching.)

I am notably LESS safe in a lot of straight spaces now than i ever was as a cis woman, because I'm not in Not-Power, I'm in Faggot Subaltern, and everybody can see it a mile away. I stand out as not belonging and not following the rules of either pre-determined gender category ("powerful" men and 'not-powerful" women) and there is a looming threat that comes with this, and that's what defines being in the faggot subaltern. as you can see i dont see this stuff as fully categorical, but rather contextual. depending on the situation i have both privilege and a lot of vulnerability, and that's true of a lot of feminine gay men.

[ghouljams]

Idk honestly I could probably write a really in depth analysis on the prevalence of the blue/brown eyed Ghost debate, and what it means in terms of fandom politics especially when coupled with whether Ghost is a natural blond or a brunet, but I doubt anyone wants to hear about the political implications of people pushing most popular character in the series as aryan...

well, i for one would absolutely love to hear about it, but to be fair my degree is in media studies so fork found in kitchen

but tbh is it surprising that this kind of discourse (along with the whole Gaz “not being interesting enough” bs) is a prevalent discussion in a military propaganda game fandom? probably not lol

i also agree with your take that his eyes are brown as part of his character development and that it feeds into the complexity of the dynamics between them

anyway, don’t feel pressured to talk more about it if you don’t feel like it, just wanted to let you know that at least one person would read all of it lol

Much love!!

- Morph

Ghoul thoughts under the cut because I love media analysis and rambling

You hit the nail on the head by bringing up the Gaz "not being interesting" bullshit in relation to this entire thing because I absolutely see the crux of the brown vs blue eyed Ghost debate being a debate over which eye color is "better" which has inherently racist roots.

And as an immediate disclaimer: I am not saying that headcanoning Ghost with blue eyes makes you racist, I am not saying that headcanoning Ghost as blond makes you racist. I am simply pointing out that the way we view certain traits has been and will be filtered through a lens which requires an examination of our own values/beliefs.

It is so intensely interesting to me that in a fandom with a history of racial exclusion, for a media property that upholds whiteness as the pinnacle of virtue, that upholds western ideals and values as the height of moral purity, that places the good guys in a position where they can do NO WRONG despite having a higher torture rate than the bad guys, that a faceless character would be arbitrarily assigned blue eyes and blond hair despite textual/in game evidence to the contrary (yes there is evidence).

Now maybe I am just sensitive to certain things because I paid attention in school and know what a dog whistle sounds like, maybe that's all this is. However, within a fandom that seems to cater so hard to white women and has racist bullshit popping up every other week, I think... maybe we should examine why we want Ghost to have blue eyes.

I find that with faceless characters headcanons always exist within the hopes of making them more attractive. The idea that they would be ugly under the mask is antithetical to the wish fulfilment of fandom, so it makes sense that people would come up with a face for them. But then why are so many faceless characters made into skinny white blonds? Surely people would want some diversity- oh no, wait...

So we make Ghost blond. Alright, I mean he was a brunet in the comics and in the one scene where we see him take his mask off he's got dark hair, but I guess there were too many people with dark hair on the 141 already, so we gotta mix in a blond. But then why the blue eyes? He has blue eyes in the '09 comic, but in every cutscene we see in the '22 remake his eyes are brown. There's already two members of the 141 with blue eyes, so we don't need another one for diversity. So then why give Ghost blue eyes? If you want him to be closer to the '09 version why make him blond as well?

It's because people want to make him attractive, and in the dominant racial zeitgeist blue eyes are attractive. Which... I mean do I need to ask why? It's because they're a white european trait and people still hold white features as the attractive ones. Same with the blond hair. That's why WW2 Germany designated Blond hair and Blue eyes as the "true German" traits and created a whole class for them "aryan."

So what are the political implications of creating an aryan character out of the most popular character in the series (one who has minimal voice lines and minimal canon backstory in the reboot) within a fandom that regularly disregards/ignores the main black character? It's the continued upholding of whiteness and a specific kind of whiteness as more valuable than others. I'm not even going to say more valuable than blackness, I would say more valuable than other white traits. Why are blue eyes more attractive than brown eyes? Because they're more "white." Why is blond hair more attractive than brown? Because it's more "white." Why is a blond haired blue eyed Ghost such a popular headcanon despite evidence to the contrary? Because he's more white that way.

Now I like blond haired Ghost. I think it's an interesting addition to the color pallet of the team, and I like that it makes him look more like a ghost to be so washed out. But I think fandom has a habit of following what becomes popular within head canon spaces and making it fandom canon, and so many of us don't examine why a headcanon might pop up. Where did Ghost having blond hair come from? When did we all decide that was what we were going with? Why is it even a debate whether or not he has blue or brown eyes, and why does it matter?

If I said right now that Ghost 100% in canon of the '22 game has brown hair and brown eyes, would people get mad at me? And why? Why would it matter if he had brown hair and brown eyes? Does that make him less attractive? Why? Why does it matter? Why do you want him to have blond hair and blue eyes? Why do you care? What is the difference between blue and brown that makes it so important? For God's sake look at the societal conditioning that you've been put through! Why does it "make more sense" for him to have blue eyes if he's blond? Why?

Every single idea we have of what is and isn't attractive has been designed for us by the society we live in. Consider what ideals are being upheld when deciding that the "hot" character is blond and blue eyed while also discarding the black character. Being anti-racist and dismantling your own racial biases is a long and constant process, but it is so vitally important. And once we start examining those biases all sorts of shit starts popping up.

And before someone comes in and tells me it isn't that deep: maybe you should look at why you need it to not be that deep, does it make you uncomfortable to think that you might be feeding into these biases without realizing? And who does it benefit to have it not be "that deep" is there perhaps a group of people that would want you to not examine your preference for blue eyes and blond hair? Some sort of brotherhood perhaps...

[transfemme-shelterdog]

no matter how plaidos words her post, shes still also endangering trans women, aka the people she wants to defend. saying trans men who pass and are stealth get male privilege (on account of potentially being seen as a man) also implies that closeted trans women, pre-realization trans women, and trans women who choose not to transition for whatever reason also get that privilege, as they could potentially be seen as men. saying trans men who are closeted and cant/dont transition get male privilege (on account of potentially being seen as cis women) also implies that trans women who pass and are stealth also get that privilege, as they could potentially be seen as cis women.

Let's be honest - Plaidos only cares about a specific subset of trans women that agree with her on everything. If I fucking got hate crimed on the street today, she wouldn't give a shit. In fact, I think she'd be happy about it.

Unless you're a white, transbian who started blockers and E the moment you legally could, along with voice training and pass 100%, you're nothing to her.

[apenapaperandadoofus]

Part 7? If my mom reading tgcf. I forgot to keep doing these so uh- we’ve gone from black water to the Mount Tonglu opening now lmaooo

Loved the state of you scene, she thought it was so cute and sweet.

Felt so bad for SQX the entire time. I managed to get her to ship him with Ming Yi so uhhhh

Fucking d i e d at the coffin scene she was like oh my goodness 😳 the entire time lmaoooo

When PM asked then “why is the coffin so small” and then Juan afterward goes “if you’re worried about who’s dead why don’t you kill yourself” she EXPLODED like she had to take a moment

Also I don’t remember when she said it but quoting her: “Go Xie Lian! Go defend your man!”

She managed to connect The Reverend and Black Water being one, WHOEVER she did not expect the Ming Yi reveal.

She didn’t comment much the entire I’mSorry Ming-Xiong scene, just gasped whenever I read something and was quiet. I think she was quite flabbergasted 😭

Then they started making out and she laughed once again especially with Qi Rong and thought it was hot Juan sent him flying with one hand.

She said about Juan “I’m not mad I’m just disappointed”. But she understood why he couldn’t really do anything.

Later we were discussing it, and she said “it seems everyone here is morally gray doesn’t it? Like the white guy, half smiling half crying, everyone has a good and bad side” and I’m so happy and amazed she managed to gain the meaning of it SO quickly, like you see people demonizing so many characters (like SWD for example) who have read the ENITRE BOOK and still for some reason don’t understand that’s the point? And I’m so proud she got the hang of it and literally the whole smiling and crying mask aaaaaa

She actually doesn’t hate SWD and I’m glad. While she thinks it’s understandable why he did it, she still felt bad for both He Xuan and the Shi brothers.

Is very worried about SQX like “Where is he?! Please don’t tell me he’s dead?!”

At the ghost rut once again mother was going 😳

She’s SO worried about Guzi like “he just wants his dad and Qi Rong just wants to eat him”

When the whole Lang Ying reveal happened she was once again laughing like crazy, and I’m so glad she didn’t guess it was HC. Did get worried about Lang Ying for a moment but calmed down when Juan said he was safe.

Also the translation said he was boiling something and she says “YOURE NOT SUPPOSED TO BOIL THAT TOGETHER” mom 😭 bold of you to assume XL can cook but she’s also a Latina mom so as you can see the bad cooking almost gave her a heart attack

Also she has joined me in loving QYZ, she calls him the curly haired one or the one that threw the bed, and thinks he’s SO cute and we both love him so much he’s adorable

When Heaven’s Eye came in and he mention the lip Qi she was like OH WHATS JUAN THINKING RN.

Also when XL got mad she was like “YES GO TELL THEM. OMG JUAN MUST BE FANBOYING (yes she knows the term bc of me and she used it correctly im so proud) SO MUCH RIGHT NOW”

She was sus of Ling Wen from the beginning and when she ran away she was like “Oh no she made the whole place run didn’t she? It’s going to go up in flames” and she was right.

Loved baby Juan and was like “NO HE JUST WANTS TO PROTECT XIEXIE BUT HES SO SMALL HE JUST WANTS TO BE STRONG”

STILL AFTER ALL THIS TIME doesn’t suspect Jun Wu. She suspects MQ but not him and I’m so happy cuz that’s just going to make the reveal more flabbergasting for her and she’s gonna scream lmaooo

Did not think FX was the father, she thought it was MQ and was like SO THATS WHY HES AFRAID OF WOMEN

At the puppet part she says “oh so they’re into role play huh”

She then read on her own again, they’re in mount tonglu now. We’re gonna stop at that part and then watch the audio drama so she can see the brocade immortal arc from the revised edition and then continue to read onwards! Yesterday at a family party she was talking about it to my uncle who had also seen the anime and gave it a 10/10. So it’s mom approved 👍👍👍

Cough I also just posted a new ao3 work in case y’all wanna check it out here.

Part 6

[mychlapci]

if i was in house md i'd be admitted through the clinic with some odd neurological symptoms and house would have immediately refused my case but when foreman says "a young woman" cameron goes "actually, young man. he's transgender" and house takes me on out of sheer curiousity and because he's an asshole. there's a spat when he writes "transsexual" as a symptom on the white-board alongside paralysis, fucking, rainbow piss, i dont know. i just keep getting worse and worse no matter what they do. chase is mildly transphobic to me while foreman has a professional detachment but keeps calling me "she" in the differentials. wilson is so commited to using my preferred pronouns that the one time i talk to him (they think it's brain cancer) he refers to me in third person just to slip the "he" in. as the neurological symptoms get worse they all start thinking that my transgenderism might Really be a result of my disease. i meet house for the first time and he tells me it's my lucky day because it's probably some kind of super rare womb disease that only affects women so they have to take the whole thing out. he also says that testosterone did that to me. i say i'm not on hrt. he insists that just because it's not in my card i could be getting it illegally. i refute that. he says that whether or not i admit it i'm getting my womb taken out. they do the surgery but i just keep getting worse still nothing works and as i'm dying i briefly mention it to cameron that it's a pity i'm dying in march, i didn't even get to go on hrt. i won't get to pick dandelions or see the lilacs bloom this year. chase says that "regaining my feminine interests" is a sign that i might be getting better after all. house calls him an idiot then he bee-lines it for my room and starts with "what kind of man hates baseball but loves to pick dandelions and see the lilacs bloom". i go "excuse me" and he just asks me if i have a dog. i say yes and he calls me an idiot for not mentioning any of this. before i can say anything he gets in my face and is like "you have dog pee in your bloodstream and it got into your brain, we just have to suck it out and give you hygiene drug and you'll be wearing push-up bras in no time". cameron says that if i end up not being transsexual at the end that means they "mutilated a poor woman". house says something offensive but slightly woke like "if she's a she, she can continue being an ugly woman. if she's a he, no harm done." it turns out that my transgenderism wasn't caused my dog pee in the brain but my anxiety was and now i'm booked for hrt and top surgery consultation and stuff. chase says he doesn't understand why anyone would choose to be a man. foreman and cameron raise their eyebrows. last scene of the episode we see a bottle of estrogen on a table. a hand comes in quickly and takes it without revealing whose it is.

[rafeslittlepup]

hii how r you?? i’m feeling that sexist!rafe and reader would be a huge part of their church and are either devout catholics or southern baptist. maybeeee mormon but like in a nara and lucky way. their family sits on the front pew, and they donate loads to the church for like roof repairs, a stained glass mural, all that. maybe they have a plaque somewhere in the chapel thanking them for their contributions to the church. rafe thinks it’s important to have a ‘good relationship’ with the lord but that applies more to reader and the kids than to him (he picks and chooses which verses apply to him and likes the ones about women being homemakers and having to submit to their husbands and shit). maybe she runs the bible study afterwards OR OMG she runs sunday school for the little kids who can’t sit still through the full service and he loves it because she’s just so sweet and patient with kids and she’s just his dream girl. making those oranges with the cloves in them with the kids during advent and stuff and they all loveee her. and the kids are super involved too, going to sunday school, they’re christened and baptised as babies and confirmed when they’re like 10. maybe reader had a purity ring before she met rafe and their little girl gets one too and rafe is just so proud and loves that she’s just like her mother.

- 🗽xx

(sorry for the rant xoxo)

im leaning southern baptist over cath. catholicism may be too rigid and high-concept for them (trad values but light doctrine). southern baptist lets them live out their “husband as king, wife as bunny angel” fantasy. lets them have gender roles, family hierarchy and God’s blessing without the pressure of centuries of dogma and confession. BUT they definitely admire caths for the vibe and might steal aesthetics when it suits them (like purity rings and saint names).

the vibe is: perfectly dressed kids, white dresses on confirmation day, casserole duty every sunday, and a very aesthetic family Bible on the coffee table that reader annotates with glitter pens and pastel tabs. rafe loves when she quotes proverbs. she doesn’t even realize he only memorizes the parts that say stuff like “wives, submit to your husbands.” i talked about this already but she def posts “grwm for church” and “packing my luke 18:1 diy bookmarks for sunday school!” also the kids were all baptized as babies and confirmed as pre-teens. rosalie belle wears a tiny purity ring rafe bought at a Christian bookstore and reader cried when he gave it to her.

[nightislands]

Just Some Thoughts on Lestat

Lestat as a character is such a curious case to me. He’s surrounded by privileges that never quite feel like privilege.

He’s an aristocrat, but one in poverty. He goes through abuse but at least he has his mom, but that relationship becomes incestous. He’s white, has blue eyes and blond hair, but gets turned into a vampire without his consent because of those qualities. He gets lots of money later on, but at the cost of his maker essentially assaulting him and then setting himself on fire in front of him. He has attraction to women, but also men. He’s a man, yet also quite feminine and flamboyant.

I think this makes sense of why he is the way he is. He has a good basic understanding of the struggle of someone having power over you. However I think he struggles with the systemic and more complex stuff, such as him not recognizing Gabrielle’s “love” as abuse as it’s not overtly violent, or why he didn’t catch onto certain instances of discrimination against Louis and understand some of his or Claudia’s deeper feelings.

There’s this idea that Lestat is not very bright, he just does things without thinking. While I think that narrative is sometimes used to absolve him of his actions, I think there’s some truth to it. I think he thinks in very black and white ways, and while that simplistic attitude adds to his charm I also think it causes a lot of issues.

I’m sure Season 3 is going to be him doing a lot of looking inwards and coming in terms with the idea of complexity, and I’m really looking forward to that.

I also really hope they touch on the fact that a lot of the things that “just happen” to go well for Lestat likely come from his systemic privileges as being raised as a white aristocrat, although out of his control on an individual level (For example, Lestat using his knowledge of financial literacy for the money he inherited from Magnus. Ofc he would use that knowledge because he has it, but it does come from the privilege he has being from an aristocratic background.)

I’d also love to see Season 3 explore his bisexuality in depth, but also the biphobia he faces more in depth than the books do. I think there’s potential to make some very meaningful commentary on the high rates of sexual assault against bisexuals, and his struggle to define his queerness. (+ a lot of people forget that just because the term bisexual wasn’t popularized before the 1970-90s doesn’t mean biphobia didn’t exist!)

I still haven’t finished TVL because life has gotten so busy, but reading TVL has made me think about Lestat a lot.

I look forward to finishing it and sharing more thoughts later!

[zuko-always-lies]

@pleasehitmewithabus, even though you randomly decided to block me rather than continuing the polite discussion we were having, I figured I would at least record my responses, although it seems rather unlikely you'll ever see them.

(1/2) Okay sorry I saw your messages out of order I'll address them as I see them 1. I do believe that zuko and iroh specifically should have to at least pay reparations or some sort of service. Big huge emphasis on iroh, bc as much as the fans love iroh (me included), he did a lot of Really Messed Up shit and was drinking the fire nation colonizer Kool aid hard when he was a general. I do think that because with his age a lot of his wrong doing he tried to make up for (joining the white lotus, trying to lead zuko down the right path etc) but that doesn't really matter to the families of the people he killed either directly or indirectly does it? I think zukos situation is a Lot more nuanced than anyone else's in the entire fire nation. He never showed any pleasure in the tasks he was made to perform and conducted himself honorably even when no one was holding him accountable (leaving the swt alone in book 1 and defending that village against their own soldiers in book 2, etc). He also worked very hard to redeem himself. If he did kill anyone (doubtful imo, he didn't even kill his abusive father when given the chance in book 3) I do not think it would've been something he wanted to do, maybe self defense? As for mai and ty Lee, I believe reparations or service of some sort but if you think their crimes are as severe as azula then yes to some extent I do believe mai at least would need to face jail time (Ty Lee is a difficult one bc I genuinely believe she was coerced by azula to join her little 'elite force', source is the circus scene).

If you believe that everyone needs to make reparations or whatever, not just Azula, I have less of an issue with that. It's at least logically consistent. However, I feel honorbound to bring up that Zuko's "opening" act as an antagonist was ramming his ship into an indigenous village, manhandling an elderly woman, and terrorizing defenseless women and children. His second major act as an antagonist was burning down Suki's village, and so on. The narrative framed Zuko and his actions in a very sympathetic manner, since the writers wanted people rooting for his redemption, but he in fact was a brutal person who did a lot of brutal things. He's not necessarily much, if any, better than your average Fire Nation commander.

2. I do consider it canon, since they meant it to be implied. Which Im pretty sure makes it a canon off screen event, like Suki taking over that one giant fire nation balloon in the finale (it wasn't explicitly shown but implied), but if you don't want to believe that, that doesn't bother me. @zuko-always-lies (2/2) 2. Continued: Okay so again we can argue morality in war all day every day but people who are actively being oppressed or murdered on a genocidal scale (the north pole, The literal last Airbender) have a right to defend themselves. The fire nation was invading the north pole when Aang Without A Doubt opened a can of whoop ass on them and killed basically all of them. Aang also, as the literal last Airbender and the victim of a genocide Definitely had the right to go supersayain on azula or whoever (although it's worth mentioning that he never Wanted to kill anybody despite probably having literally killed people but by your definition canonically has not). The difference is Azulas role. She is the oppressor, the colonizer. She is in the wrong, there is no ambiguity about this fact. Yes she's a child, but children can still do wrong. She was open about her desire to kill people and her willingness to do so, even for people who she considered her friends (Ty Lee again, the circus scene). In my opinion that makes her in the wrong. She wasn't just a soldier defending her home or culture, she was a soldier destroying other people's homes and culture.

I think viewing the Gaang's actions as "more just" than Azula's (or Zuko's actions for that matter) is totally justified. The Fire Nation is a colonizing power, after all. That being said, from the perspective of military ethics, soldiers are very much not expected to judge the overall morality of the wars they fight. That's why ordinary German soldiers got off scot-free after WWII, for instance.

Applying this to Azula specifically, Azula is an indoctrinated child soldier. Of course she thinks the Fire Nation's cause is just and justified! It's not, but Azula doesn't know that, and expecting her to be able to judge overwise.

As for Ty Lee, Azula didn't expect her to die. The entire point was to recruit Ty Lee (in accordance with royal Fire Nation tradition), and Azula couldn't recruit Ty Lee if she died.

Hey friend, no one said anything about mountains of dead people off screen, but it's pretty silly to act like someone who was trained to be a lethal weapon didn't kill anyone ever y'know? And her kill count isn't zero, it's at least one. Aang, right? No, the worst that I can say about her is that she killed the avatar the symbol of hope and peace and The Last Of His People. Y'know, furthering the whole colonizing and genocide thing. But hey, your opinion is your opinion. No one's forcing you to agree with me. At this rate we are running in circles bc I am saying that yes, these characters (iroh, zuko, azula, ozai all of these bitches) did wrong and deserve to be punished and help rebuild the countries they actively destroyed, and that they, Despite being part of a war, Were responsible for their own actions. And you are staunchly defending a character who was morally gray at best, and didn't care about who she hurt or killed in her desperate bid for power and love. I mean, let me ask you this, what is your take? She's innocent? She did nothing wrong? She... Is wrong but shouldn't be held accountable for it? What are your thoughts?

It's perfectly possible that Azula has an off-screen body count, just like it's perfectly possible that Zuko, Ty Lee(ok that's a little less likely) or Mai (who throws knives at people!) have offscreen body counts. Hell, Aang, Sokka, Toph, Suki, etc. have onscreen body counts.

That being said, Azula is a character who we see prefers deception and subtilty over brute force as a means of accomplishing her objectives, and who is pretty consistently merciful. If she does have an offscreen body count, it's not likely to be a large one.

And yes, Azula is not a good person. She's morally grey at best. She's just not necessarily a worse person than many fan-favorite characters who are not the least bit held accountable by the narrative or the fandom.

At this rate we are running in circles bc I am saying that yes, these characters (iroh, zuko, azula, ozai all of these bitches) did wrong and deserve to be punished and help rebuild the countries they actively destroyed, and that they, Despite being part of a war, Were responsible for their own actions. And

This is actually a philosophical issue, of what is required to redeem yourself. The narrative of ATLA gives an answer, which is that all you need to do is stop doing bad things. You don't need to actively make reparations or anything, you just need to stop doing bad things and everything is OK. Iroh gets his tea shop in Ba Sing Se at the end, after all. This also gets into the issue of restorative vs. punitive justice, with the ATLA narrative apparently saying neither is required.

A lot of people (including myself) find this all kind of dissatisfying and questionable. That being said, I personally think that child soldiers who were only involved in very, very tail end of a 100 year old war that began long before their births bear a pretty minimal moral responsibility for the whole war. It's not really their fault. People like Ozai or Iroh, on the other hand...

So let's assume that post-canon Zuko controls/confines/punishes Azula in some way

what exactly he does doesn't matter much for the purposes of this poll; I would like to note that almost all post-war fanfics have some version of this.

[iwoulddieforher]

Sink down beneath | c.novak × siren!a.cabot

why did I write this why did I write this hello??? why did I do that pfff I'm giggling so hard rn ... blame @cns-mari & @khvlani for encouraging this and @hocuspocusbabyy for not stopping me. also, I drew the banner. it was a doodle. don't come for me. probably could've made it better but I am SLEEPY

summary: Casey is lonely, accidentally becomes a monsterfucker because a siren thinks she has pretty hair

warnings for siren!amelia chase very graphically eating peter stone, kidnapping(?), kissing, sirens (obviously???) uhh implied sexual content, horniness ...

There are worse things in life than being unloved, Casey Novak tried to consider.

There are far worse evils than the bitter dread that rose in her throat at the feeling of deep loneliness.

It was hard to tell the ink-colored water apart from the void that was the sky. Where the moonlight was reflected on water, the silver at least revealed the texture of the water far below her- but staring out at the frigid horizon, Casey was too lost in thought to really register it.

Squinting out at the sea, she was lulled into a soothing state of mind by the repetitive rocking motion of the massive vessel she was only another weary passenger in. The water out near the coast of Boston was cold, and the air that carried the scent of saltwater and ocean prickled at her skin as she leaned on the railing, her head nestled in her hands.

Perhaps one of the reasons the cold was so noticeable to her tonight was because her face glistened with the evidence of tears. Not a big deal, or so she convinced herself. She had been crying more recently- so what?

She’d been on this boat for about three days now. She still hadn't seen most of it, and she wasn't even sure why she had said yes to coming here in the first place. All she really did was lay in the silk sheets of her overpriced bed in her small room, one amongst the hundreds that formed the labyrinth of other passengers.

Unlike them, she didn't entertain herself with any of the other accommodies. There were on-board casinos, filled with rows of gambling machines and dozens of tables where rowdy men drank beer while toying with chips and considering cards. There were fine-dining restaurants as well as more modest eating options, red-tinted bars with shelves so high and so full of alcohol it would take only an apocalypse to empty them, hell- even swimming pools and two large theaters. The ship was truly massive, a large contraption that sought to entertain and amaze those, especially ones who had never sailed before.

It took more than that to woo Casey, though. She wasn't quite sure if she’d be awed by anything, anymore, not in the depressive slump she had found herself in recently.

It wasn't like she hadn't been approached, being a single and attractive young woman on a ship where rich man went to have affairs, but the loneliness in her heart had grown so voracious the appeal of any half-hearted attempts of seeking idle companionship had been eaten alongside her will to get out of bed in the morning.

Attending a conference centered around law had been an attempt of hers to refind some sense of purpose. It wasn't that she was dissatisfied with white collar work, but something in it just felt lacking, especially recently. Especially since Charlie died, and she was now alone, and every second reminded of it- especially on this godforsaken ship.

She should've just flown. But that godforsaken hotshot at the DA’s office had invited her to take this stupid fucking cruise line, and the act of being invited somewhere had stunned her so immensely she hadn't thought it an option to say no until she was already locked into the commitment.

Some might say Peter Stone was an interesting man, but Casey found him quite annoying. With his muscular build, stupidly sparkly blue eyes and attractive face, he coasted through life with three women eyeing him at any time. Pretty boy Stone was making a name for himself- but frankly, and Casey knew she was being pretty shallow by thinking it, she wasn't sure if he was truly a good attorney or if the handsome looks and cheeky smiles he flashed at the jury box were doing more than his vocal prowess.

She had the great misfortune of having the room directly beside him, because they had booked under the same package. The sound of a headboard banging harshly against the wall that bordered on hers kept her up at night.

Perhaps she was standing there, then, out of the ship’s board near midnight, because she was hoping he’d tire himself out enough to groggily thrust a bit less forcefully. Perhaps she was simply depressed and thought the sound of waves crashing on the vast hull could soothe her. Perhaps it was neither- the ocean was rather alluring, after all.

“Get away from the railing,” someone demanded harshly behind her, and Casey startled. She spun around, her eyes narrowing with confusion, but it was only an anxious looking sailor.

A young man, who couldn't be older than twenty four. With hair Casey couldn't distinguish the color of under his prim sailor’s hat, he eyed her carefully. He seemed to be searching her face, her body language for something, but when she was nothing but bewildered he seemed rather sheepish.

“Oh, sorry ma’am,” He murmured, tipping his hat respectfully to her, “We’ve just had a lot of jumpers recently. The issue with having a good ship is the wackos keep thinking it's the perfect place to die.”

“That's not me,” Casey clarified, “But if it puts you at ease, I’ll return to my room.”

“Would perhaps be best,” the sailor said, smoothing down his ironed shirt, “it is late, and if anyone were to do something- well, that's why we’re patrolling, isn't it?”

He chuckled wryly, and Casey did her best to offer him a smile. She stepped gently away, the polished wood beneath her shoes clicking softly with her heels as she wandered back inside the maze of identical rooms in long, endless hallways.

Meters below, rounded eyes the color of obsidian surfaced from the depth to watch her go.

Stone was apparently not done with his pursuit, so Casey pulled a pillow over her head, which did nothing to muffle the vibrations of furniture slamming against the wall, and tried her best to fall asleep. Something inside her itched to go back outside, to keep blankly observing the ocean, but she kept herself still.

When she woke, strangely enough, it wasn't from the sound originating from the room beside her, but instead from the utter lack of. Casey sat up groggily, wiping at the salt on her inner eyes, before she started to hear a woman’s concerned, raised voice in the hallway.

Most of her wanted to go back to sleep, but as the voice raised louder, she became rather concerned herself. In her nightgown and tousled hair she crept to the door, opening it just enough to observe the unfolding situation.

“Peter,” a woman was imploring, “Peter, let go of me, what are you doing-?”

His hand was gripped around her wrist, and he was facing away from her, dressed only loosely in his boxers. He was trying to walk down the hallway, towards the door that led to the deck of the ship, and he was acting as though he couldn't hear her- his focus entirely on something else.

“Peter,” she tried again, “Let me go.”

Her voice was firm enough that Casey thought to intrude. She pushed the door open after glancing at the clock on her nightstand- it was three in the morning.

“Hey,” she tried when she stepped into the hallway, squinting in the bright lights of the hallway they never turned off. She hoped the additional presence would be enough to surprise him, and it was- when he turned around, his eyes looked almost manic, almost possessed.

“Casey,” he said as though enthusiastic to see her, “Can't you hear that?”

No, she couldn't. She couldn't hear anything but the faint music still playing from some direction, and the anxious breath of the woman who was clad only in a bra and panties that looked haphazardly pulled on. The back of her hair was mangled- they had just been having sex, but something had seemed to enrapture Peter.

“Come with me,” he said simply, “We need to go out, we need to hear it better. It sounds so … we need to go find it.”

Casey would not be surprised if they had been doing drugs, and they were most definitely drunk. The woman looked tipsy and utterly bewildered, glancing between Casey and Peter- She couldn't hear it either, evidently. She briefly wondered what drug would result in delusions, but whatever it was, she wasn't about to argue him back inside- if she got the woman detached from him, and made sure he got through the night, that was good enough.

She stepped forward and wrapped her hand around the wrist that was clenched around the other woman's, and Peter detached immediately, grabbing onto her instead. With a confused and exhausted shrug she threw over her shoulder, she motioned for the other woman to go get dressed as she began to sleepily pad after Peter so he wouldn't need to be as agitating in the pulling he immediately attempted to begin.

“What does it sound like?” She tried to soothe, and tried to gain a bit more information. Maybe in his doped state he was hearing the music from one of the casinos that hadn't yet closed, and it was confusing him.

“You can't hear her humming?”

He was facing determinedly forward, so she couldn't see his face when he said that, but now she was genuinely worried. He kept walking, his steps large and robotic as though pacing towards something with a time limit on it, and she was starting to walk progressively faster just to keep up with him. No one was humming- no one was around at all, and even then, if someone was humming a hallway away or out on the deck there was absolutely no way he should be able to hear it enough to be so enthralled by it.

“Peter,” she said softly, “maybe we should go back to bed, hmm? I’m sure we can find her tomorrow.”

“No,” he said harshly, whirling around with a glare on his strong brow. “No. I need to find her. If you want to deprive yourself of it you can leave but she’s calling me and I need to find her.”

She stared at him blankly and he turned around with a small grunt.

“She needs me,” he said quietly, stubbornly.

Casey could relate to the drive, the urge, the need to feel wanted by someone. She resigned herself to follow him as she tugged at her, walking as though he simultaneously wanted to drag her with him and also had forgotten he was attaching himself to her arm.

He marched out of the maze of hallways and out onto the deck, her eyes adjusting rather quickly to the darkness outside. The moon was just as beautiful as it was three hours prior when she had been staring at it, the sound of waves just as soothing.

“It's louder,” he told her, “Can't you hear it? She’s so much louder now.”

Casey was used to dealing with Charlie’s psychosis, but this felt bizarrely different. Charlie was paranoid and she had to fight him so he wouldn't hurt himself trying to scratch cameras out of his skin- Peter was adamant of a sound that clearly did not exist.

Until she heard it, too.

It scared her. Her ears had been perked the entire time, half of her hoping she could hear it just to ensure he wasn't slipping into delusions, but only when he started leading her to the starboard side of the ship did she manage to pick up on something.

A faint humming sound. She would've thought it was part of the ship, mechanics humming as gears or electricity burned through the energy it took the deep the ginormous thing moving, until it started adapting to a certain melody.

“I hear it,” she said faintly, almost as though she was scared of it. Perhaps she was. Casey did not fancy herself delusional. Had some of Peter’s drugs managed to rub off on her through… through skin contact? Acid could be transferred in patches, perhaps she was joining in on his psychotic beliefs, and she didn't like the idea of that happening. But it was growing steadily louder the more she tried not to focus on it.

Peter looked ecstatic when he turned around, happy that she finally understood.

“Where is she? We should find her, it isn't good for a woman to be out this late. Even on a ship, bad things can happen to someone so delicate.”

Casey could not conclude that the sound originated from a woman, and especially not identify any characteristics that person would exhibit, from the sound alone. It sounded vaguely like something she had heard before- a lullaby in childhood she had ingrained in her skull, but couldn't remember. There was something about it that was familiar, comforting.

She wanted to find her, too.

“Where’s it coming from?” Casey muttered, rubbing her eyes again and swiveling her head from side to side, hoping one direction would seem louder than the other, but it didn't.

Peter wasn't listening to her. Casey was yanked abruptly, stumbling off her feet as he was pulled towards the railing, and with a sinking feeling Casey realized he was right-

The sound was coming from the water.

She wasn't as far gone as he was- she still thought it best to ignore it, to go back inside, to go back to sleep. She wanted to find the woman but it was clear no human was alive down in the water- and no human voice could carry such a soft melody up the multimeter gap between the edge of the ship and the water far down below. Peter, clearly, was adamant.

“Stop,” she tried, “Peter, wait-”

He was trying to climb up on the cold metal railing, and it was such an odd sight- an esteemed lawyer in only his boxers briefs, one hand gripping Casey’s wrist while the other trying to help him hoist herself over.

With a sinking feeling, Casey tried to struggle against him- she tried to grab around his broad waist and pull him backward, away from the edge, but he was far stronger than her. She wasn't sure if he remembered he was holding on to her, and she wasn't sure if he even realized she was still there.

His eyes were void of anything in the flash of his face she managed to glance at during the brief spar, glazed over but utterly focused on the sound. She couldn't fight him for very long, not when a strong man like him was so adamant, so determined.

Two bodies hit the freezing water of the Boston coast after falling nearly four meters down to meet it.

Casey could swim, but not with waves like this, and not when she was in shock. She couldn't see anything but black around her, the side of the boat and the darkness of the frigid sea only distinguished by the vague flash of light when a wave managed to reflect the cold, all-seeing moon.

She tried to grab Peter's body, and tried to scream, but when she opened her mouth a wave crashed over her head, and she was sucked hopelessly under. She couldn't reach him, even though logically he should still be beside her. She didn't know where he was.

A small chorus of clicks and odd tones, animalistic in nature, was the last thing she could register as her limbs began to lose motivation to fight against the sheer power of the ocean. Casey was sucked under, her eyes stinging with salt as she let her eyes close, and realized with an odd, detached feeling, that she was going to drown.

‘Shoot’, Amelia communicated through a small chorus of undersea clicks made with the back of her vocals, ‘I only wanted a man. I don't like the girlish taste. A waste.’

Although her dialogue was sympathetic, her tone was entirely casual. She didn't care at all that her dinner had accidentally led to the death of another, and Alex wasn't at all surprised by her inability to carefully lure only one prey-thing.

Alex drifted alongside her companion while rolled over belly-up, eyes flickering up at the ship, hoping that no sailor or fellow passenger had picked up the odd incident. It wasn't her turn to eat, and with the bulky man she had snagged last night, she wasn't entirely inclined too.

‘If you were careful, Amelia’, she clicked back, eyes still honed in upwards, ‘You’d stop ending up with waste. Kill her, at least- I’ve heard drowning, for them, is unpleasant.’

‘But it's cute when their little limbs thrash’, Amelia observed, ‘look, Alex- she’s going all still now.’

For the first time, and with a sigh of bubbles that were scattered by the harsh waves as they drifted upwards, Alex shifted her attention from scouting to the body slowly sinking. Amelia was swimming little circles around it, observing, toying. She wasn't dead, not yet. With otherworldly senses like theirs, the sound of this woman’s blood rushing through her veins was echoing and loud. They could hear the heartbeat of the sailors patrolling the ship, the radio on in the Captain’s lounge- figuring out whether she had passed on wasn't at all difficult.

Amelia grinned at her, baring all her sharpened teeth, which were bloodied and the water around her mouth was dotted by gore. The man’s head- the true target- had been slashed off by the talons on her large hands, and she was ripping chunks of fleshy muscle off of it. She liked eating the heads first, as morbid as Alex found that- she said they were her appetizer. Amelia’s tail bumped against the woman's head, toying with her body as the cold water started to seep into the fragile human skin.

With the shift of force Amelia’s tail created, the woman’s head was turned softly into Alex’s direction. Her hair swirled around her head and shoulders, eyes softly closed as if interrupted in the process of her squeezing then shut, her lips parted gently- although she wasn't trying to breathe through her mouth. In unconsciousness, somehow, she was holding her breath.

‘Oh,’ Alex noticed, ‘She’s … pretty.’

She swam forward, propelling herself gently with a small motion of her muscular fins. Her large hands encircled the woman’s face, and she turned it toward her’s in the dark- but again, with eyes like her’s, she could see every detail without any sense of difficulty. Her pupils expanded just barely as she studied the soft curves of the land-creature’s face, glancing down to observe the rest of her body as well. She was taller than most of the other women she had eaten, if they did ever take a woman at all- men were by far easier, so it wasn't that common of an occurrence. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, Alex decided, this woman was incredibly beautiful.

‘Her hair,’ she clicked softly, ‘It’s a very nice color, don't you think?’

‘My hair is also red,’ Amelia whistled back indignantly. She was always interested in the opposite of what Alex was. If Alex’s attention was on the boat, her’s was fixated on the people- if Alex took her suggestion to study the woman instead, Amelia became bored with her.

Red was an uncommon color to the creatures of the sea- to some extent, at least. It was the color of morbid insides, and the color of a few fish’s scales. But a shade of red like this, Alex hadn't ever seen before on an organism.

‘Yours is red like blood,’ Alex corrected. ‘Her hair is like … like the sunset.’

‘Who gives a fuck about the sunset?’ Amelia snorted, her tail flicking just to emphasize her utter disinterest. She had similarly lost focus on the head, which was now slowly drifting downwards to the bottom of the sea, ripped off of the man’s broad shoulders and with the majority of the flesh and hair torn gruesomely off. The other creature was now reoccupying herself with the man’s body instead, jaws elongating as she sank her teeth into flesh and snapped her head back to tear large chunks of it off, eating far messier than Alex ever would.

Alex, too, was gripping the woman’s body with large hands and webbed fingers, but unlike Amelia she was careful not to dig her talons into the soft alabaster skin, not to prick or hurt despite the knowledge the woman wouldn't be able to feel pain in the state of cold shock her body must be in. One hand extended to brush against her hair softly, admiring the texture and feel of it against her rough palms, the way it parted around her claws.

Alex had no intention of eating her, definitely no intention of crudely ripping apart her limbs the way Amelia was currently struggling to dislocate and snap away one of the man’s arms. Amelia’s tendency to toy and disjoint was exactly why a staple of Alex’s diet was now the sharks that came to irritate them, drawn in by the bloodshed that was Amelia’s proud meal.

‘You could always scalp her and keep it,’ Amelia considered with a sly hiss through her teeth, when she realized Alex was still blankly observing the body.

‘Truly a shame,’ Alex whistled quietly as she let the length of her tail brush up against smooth, lithe legs that couldn't help her in a situation like this, ‘Such a gorgeous creature dead, because you suck at hunting properly.’

‘Hey,’ Amelia swirled around, affronted, her expression twisting into one of a more aggressive indignation. She bared her teeth, showing off the length of her fangs, but Alex didn't bother with accepting the chaotics of the younger creature in that regard.

She twisted her neck around, baring her own teeth- a more impressive size than Amelia’s, she noticed with a bit of pride, before parting her jaws and then snapping them shut with emphasis. Amelia recoiled slightly at the vibrations the aggressive motion caused, at the sight of Alex’s fangs. Alex was the more dominant of the two, elder and larger, and despite the fact Amelia's face still resembled stubbornness, with the way her frills flattened submissively against her tail, Amelia knew that too.

The annoyance that was her hunting companion dealt with, Alex considered what exactly she wanted to do with this beautiful woman’s body. She still wasn't dead, surprisingly, which Alex noted was incredibly resilient for a creature so fragile.

She could scalp and detach the parts she liked and keep them, as Amelia suggested, but her hair would quickly lose the glossed shine they exhibited after hours of being exposed to the saltwater world she lived in. Her body wouldn't be warm and soft, death would rob this woman her alluring quality. She could make a kill of mercy, slit her throat with a quick swipe of her claws or a sharp bite with her fangs, let the body join the detached head of her friend that was now but a speck in the distance below them, carried off by a current. She could let her drown and then toss the corpse up to one of the lifeboats, so the family who must love a woman this gorgeous could mourn. She couldn't return her alive, not after she had heard the hum of the sea, not when she could reveal to others what she had heard. They had been warned of allowing one who had heard to survive the night.

But oh- Alex very much wanted to keep her. Wanted to be able to admire her hair, the softness of her skin, the smoothness of her, the warmth a body like this radiated, for just a little bit longer.

Time was running out, she noted, as bubbles left the woman’s lungs and floated up towards the world she had been a part of. She was going to die no matter what Alex did about it, unless she decided to do something quickly.

‘I want her', Alex decided out loud, her tone a chorus of small contemplating clicks, ‘I’m keeping her.’

Amelia flashed her a look that Alex did not respond to, using the easy strength of her powerful muscles to raise the body up towards the air, letting the creature breathe. She didn't wake up, no, but once her lungs were full of air again, Alex clamped a webbed hand over her mouth and nose, diving down- deep, deep down.

When Casey woke up again, she was warm- impossibly warm, but comfortably so. She assumed she must definitely be dead, then, in heaven, to be curled so snuggly up to something radiating such warmth. But her body was sore and ached, and there was stone beneath her.

She felt groggy and odd, as though her brain was not part of her body. Her muscles felt coiled and tight, her mind fogged and each thought surfacing as though squirming through a vat of molasses. Still, she though she must at least attempt to regain her bearings. The last thing she remembered was breathlessness in cold, dark water, but she was breathing air now, and although she was damp, she was most definitely not underwater.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, still stinging with the effect of saltwater. She was expecting to be met with a great light or some kind of angel, only to find large rounded eyes the color of obsidian studying her face with interest.

She tried to scramble backwards but slipped on the slickened rock, wincing as pain jolted through her wrist.

“Shhh,” the thing lulled, tilting its head at her sympathetically, “Come closer- you are so very cold.”

Casey wasn't sure why, but she stopped trying to back away automatically, although her eyes still circled as she tried to take in what exactly she was looking at.

The easiest thing to acknowledge in the environment she had woken up in was the fact she was in a cave. A broad, sprawling cave that seemed to branch out in various directions, although in most ways it seemed to cut off, diving down into an aquatic depth Casey would not be able to explore.

There was one less than three meters away, and from the trail of water on the stone, that must have been where the creature had surfaced- how the thing had brought her in here.

In one direction, though, sunlight snuck its way inside, illuminating a soft glow reflected by what seemed to be sea-polished stones set up around as though someone was decorating the walls. Because of that ray of the sun, Casey was able to fixate her eyes on the creature beside her.

The body was large, lithe, and intrinsically she knew it was incredibly dangerous. The torso was nearly identical to a human’s, and the head too- blonde hair was plastered against the skin of its face, remnants of the water that the creature was slick with. Its face looked almost human, if it wasn't for the sharp teeth and black gums exposed by its gently parted lips- and for the fact that it had no ears, only holes on the sides of its head. Its eyes were mostly pupils, dark and all-encompassing.

The rest of it was significantly not human. A large, thick body like a leopard seal’s- as though where the neck of a seal’s should've been, a human body sprouted. At the end of its tail, large paddle-like fins twitched gently, flicking back and forth the way a cat’s tail tip did. Frills stretched along the sides of the tail, as well as one near the base of its spine.

Its hands were large, webbed and tipped with nails as sharp as daggers. One was secured gently around her waist, urging her closer to the thing’s body, the other resting idly stretched out on the floor as the creature stared up at her, laying on its side.

Her first thought, oddly enough, was that as strange as the creature’s appearance was, it was very beautiful. Its eyes seemed soft despite the danger of the teeth that glinted just barely from inside of its maw. It seemed to be smiling softly, looking at her more attentively than Casey had been perceived in a long while.

“You're warm,” Casey said stupidly, “How are you … so warm?”

“Humans die when too cold,” a clipped, feminine voice spoke from the creature’s mouth, human except for slight inconsistencies in the tone, in the way her mouth moved. Its vocals were different from a human’s, chords built differently with a unique larynx. “I did not want you to die. There exists a hot spring near us; but I did not want you to burn. I do not know how much warm a human can be. I swam around in it until my surface was warm. I hoped that proximity to me while I was warm would warm you, too.”

Casey stared at her, her mouth agape slightly in perplexion. She had realized what this creature was while she spoke- what type of being she was in the presence of.

“A siren,” Casey recognized in a whisper, trying to grapple with what was happening to her. There was no way a faint trace of drug exposure from Peter’s recklessness had caused this intense delusion, but from the pain in her wrist, she knew she wasn't dreaming.

The creature’s face broke into a small, confused smile.

“I did not think you would know of us,” she spoke softly, “I thought we took good precautions.”

“Well, I didn't think you were real,” Casey clarified, her eyebrows scrunching softly. Frankly, with how drowsy and disoriented she felt, she wasn't quite sure she even truly was.

She realized it was now cold as she had backed away- the webbed hand on her waist was the only place she was still warm. In slow, tentative movements, she squirmed a bit closer, and the creature let out a soft sound as if pleased by it.

“Come here,” she twisted her hips slightly, allowing Casey more contact to the softened, slick fur that coated her tail and lower abdomen, “If I wanted to bite, I surely would have.”

“That’s a poor joke,” Casey muttered, “...you most definitely could shred me alive with teeth like that.”

The siren smiled, the large teeth Casey had just mentioned visible as her eyes narrowed with amusement.

Despite her words, she took the offer, pressing the skin that had begun to shiver with cold against the body warmed by water the siren had subjected herself too specifically in Casey’s regard. It was an unfamiliar feeling, unlike the texture of any living creature Casey had ever touched before, but it wasn't unwelcome. One of its arms wrapped around the small of her back, and the other extended to prop up her head softly, keeping her head from needing to rest on the cold floor.

“Do you feel hurt?” The siren asked, a small clicking tone behind the vowels as she tried to pronounce words properly in English- how she could speak English, Casey had no clue.

“What do you mean?” Casey murmured sluggishly, her eyes drifting shut as warmth enveloped her again. Her head did hurt, actually, and her body was sore.

“You fell a great distance off the ship,” the siren considered, “Do you want the hurt away?”

“The hurt away?” Casey echoed, confused, only for the other arm of the siren to catch around her shoulders and for the large body to roll, pulling Casey to rest above her.

Casey felt mildly flustered when she realized the siren’s sternum still held breast, and her head was now only just slightly above them. She squirmed slightly, surprised by the new position and wanting rather to back away again, readjust her bearings, wait until her mind was cleared.

“You are moving,” the siren said, her tail flicking to emphasize the way her voice had grown stern, “Stop.”

“You are naked,” Casey protested, trying to raise her body up, but with the press of strong hands, one on the middle of her spine and the other on the small of her back, she wasn't able to move very much. “Wait,” she paused, realizing her own skin was similarly very exposed, “where the hell did my clothes go?”

“Humans and their customs,” the siren sighed, and although Casey couldn't see her face, she was pretty sure the creature had just rolled her eyes. “What good are clothing pieces in the sea? I do not need them. And you are in clothes. Your on-top clothes were freezing you, I had to take it off if you were to be warm again. It is over there.”

The fins that tipped her tail moved to motion in a direction, and Casey’s eyes scrolled over to observe that her nightgown had been carefully placed against a rock, smoothed against it, to dry. How the siren had managed to get it off of her with talons as sharp as her’s, Casey wasn't sure. She must have been very careful.

“Your underneath-clothes are on, out of respect, because your kind seems to be so panicked when they are not. You are welcome. They were keeping you cold, though. Just so you know.”

Casey realized, yes, her bra and panties still adorned her otherwise bare form. The siren sounded rather exasperated- but then again, Casey supposed, she was right. Soaked, freezing clothes would not have helped her very much. She tried to relax again, tried to settle down onto the warm, muscular body beneath her, but it was a bit hard knowing how close she was to something that looked identical to a human woman's breast.

“Your heart beats fast,” the siren observed in her clipped tone. At first, Casey thought it was making fun of her, but then the siren followed up gently. “It was slow before. I was worried.”

“Why were you worried?” Casey questioned, her brow furrowing slightly. Sirens ate humans, didn't they-? Surely that had been Stone’s fate. Perhaps out of honor to him she shouldn't be cuddling up to this one, but something in her didn't seem to care that much. Not when she was so warm, and apparently so caring.

“I do not like when pretty things die,” the siren muttered after a pause. “And you are pretty.”

“Thank … you?” Casey muttered, slightly distracted as one of the webbed hands raised up, shifting from the middle of her back up to her head to stroke incredibly gently through her damp hair.

“You do not believe it?” The siren said, a question in her tone. Casey pursed her lips, shifting her head slightly, nuzzling deeper into the warmed skin and further into the hand that took such caution trying to touch her.

“Not particularly.”

“Par-tic-u-lar-ly,” the siren repeated, sounding out the syllables. Casey noted that somehow the being below her, too, sounded rather tired. It was daytime judging by the day of sunlight from somewhere above them- perhaps sirens were nocturnal.

“Well, if you were not, you would be drowned. So, evidence, no?”

“Mhm,” Casey considered half-heartedly. “I haven't ever seen a siren before, but by human standards, you're quite beautiful too.”

The siren smiled, and Casey shifted her head up so she could study the human-resembling face again. She had high cheekbones, thin yet pretty eyebrows, and her lips looked soft, her Cupid's bow shaped. Yes, by human standards, a face like that could easily model. Unless she ate the photographer, Casey considered wryly. But for some reason- apparently because the siren found her pretty- she wasn't going to eat her.

“Your cheeks are warm,” the siren noted, and this time she was making fun of her. Casey huffed and placed her face back down, her arms shifted to softly bracket the siren’s human shoulders.

“I will take the hurt away now,” the siren clarified, “So be still, and listen.”

With her ear pressed against the creature’s chest, Casey had no option but to do anything else.

Casey had watched documentaries about the sea before. Apparently the vibrations created by dolphins could soothe nerves- she wondering if the effect of the soft sound created in the chamber of the siren's chest was doing something similar, because the second she started singing- although, Casey wasn't quite sure it could be considered that- the pain was replaced by a flood of an indescribable, soft emotion.

Her voice was softer than the melody Casey had heard on the ship- that one had been alluring, seductive, but in a femme fatality sort of way. This was gentle and encompassing, the soft vibration like honey on her tongue, like being bundled up near a fireplace. Her breathing evened out automatically, and her heart followed suit. As though she was under a weighted blanket, she felt herself relax and fall deeper into the comfort, the webbed hands that now held her.

“Oh, fuck,” Casey groaned, squirming as though trying to get her head even closer to the source of the sound. The siren made something that could only resemble a chuckling sound, but the gentle hum did not stop through it. Her anatomy must be far different than Casey had assumed it to be.

“I like the way your breathing sounds,” the siren noted, and Casey blinked her eyes open deliriously. It was hard to pay attention to anything else when she felt so soothed, energy seeping from her limbs alongside any sense of discomfort or pain, leaving her a content, boneless heap on the siren’s sternum.

“Someone looks happy,” she whispered, webbed hands gently cradling Casey’s face, brushing the soft skin of her cheeks incredibly carefully, as to not accidentally prick her with the claws that tipped each finger. Casey made a small cooing sound in the back of her throat, which Alex smiled at.

“You're talkative,” Casey noted drowsily, glancing down at her. “How are you talking and singing at the same time?”

“I have four lungs,” the siren responded, as if it was obvious. “Two sets. One can speak. One does that. Both for breathing.”

“Aha. I have two … er, one set of lungs. For talking. And … breathing.” Casey mumbled, caught up in the melodious, soothing hum, drowning any sense of logic or thought process she had.

“I know,” the creature soothed, running a curved talon down the length of Casey’s body, making her shiver against it. “I can hear you. I can hear how the blood in your body swirls.”

The hand that was stroking against her side continued exploring softly, the siren content to let Casey bask in the soothing feeling her singing brought as she enjoyed how soft, how warm the human was, now that she had successfully fostered her back to life.

Casey groaned softly when Alex pressed the palm of her hand against her hip, shifting the woman back onto her side and off of her body, so Alex could curl around her. Her tail slipped between Casey’s legs, her hand resuming the previous position- one protecting Casey’s head from the floor, the other wandering around the warmth of her chest, her abdomen, feeling the organs work below her skin. It fascinated her, the way her body was so different from anything under the sea. The pads of her fingers as she explored could feel the pulse of her warm blood beneath her skin.

She had ears that stood outside of her head with little holes in them that held shiny metal, for some reason. Only one heart, but a large one- two lungs, no gills. Arms, legs, with bones inside of them. No fins, but they wouldn’t have had any purpose above water. No tail, although there was a tailbone.

Casey seemed too relaxed, too dazed to care much about the siren’s examination of her form, although her body twitched gently when Alex probed a nail against the soft line of her abdomen.

“There are many nerve-endings there,” Alex muttered to herself more than to Casey, her eyes trained on her lower abdomen, just below her navel. Blood was thrumming there, activated by the sensation of her nail against pale skin. “How interesting.”

“Don't touch,” Casey muttered, and Alex lifted her hand away obediently.

“Nevermind,” that notion had only lasted barely a few seconds, her eyes flickering back open to examine Alex’s own impossibly dark ones, “Keep touching.”

“Is that because I am warm, or because it feels good?” Alex asked quietly, her tail flicking back and forth in a way that made a small thumping sound against the stone below them. She didn't need the answer, not really, with the way Casey’s heart had sped up. But still, it felt more respectful to ask.

The more animalistic part of her, the side that knew technically this animal was something her kind preyed on, was mildly confused why she cared to be respectful. But they could speak the same language, and she had no doubt humans were on par with her intelligence- if not beyond it, even, with their increasingly elaborate inventions- so it was more like holding a captive. But Casey hadn't asked to leave yet. Alex wasn't quite sure what she would do when she did ask to leave, but for now, she got to keep her. She got to have her.

If sirens were anything- they were possessive. Possessive of their social status, protective of the shiny objects they collected to hoard, protective of their meals and their families. How Casey fit into that, she had no clue. She liked thinking, though, that this creature was her’s now. She had saved her from dying, after all.

Humans had rituals for things like that, didn't they? It gave Alex an idea, if Casey would be receptive to it.

“I’ve warmed up enough,” Casey clarified, “It felt good. Do … Do sirens have names? My name is Casey, just so you know. I’m assuming I’ll be here a while, unless you change your mind for a midnight munch.”

“Alex,” Alex responded after a small pause while she tried to figure out how the combination of clicks and whistles that spelled her name would sound like in human-speak, and while her eyebrows raised at the wry joke, “I am called Alex. And I won't eat you.”

Casey’s hands, smaller than Alex’s but not significantly, reached out for a webbed hand and guided it back to her hip. Alex smiled rather smugly and ran her thumb along the bone that jutted out- sirens did not have hips like that. From the breath that left Casey’s nose, Alex could concur that Casey liked that.

“Legs are so interesting,” Alex continued speaking, running her hand down the curve of Casey’s thigh. “How you can balance on them, things like that. Octopi have legs, but they shuffle around on them. You stand. You can walk, run. How … interesting.”

“Gravity,” Casey mumbled, a small huff leaving her nose, her eyebrows scrunching gently as Alex switched to the other of her thighs, “Birds are also bipedal.”

“Birds?” Alex echoed. “Birds fly, with wings. And I see them sit sometimes. They walk?”

“Yes,” Casey said, but she seemed increasingly distracted. “Birds can walk. Surely you’ve heard them walking around on the deck, in the mornings on the ship there’s flocks of them.”

“Oh,” Alex chuckled, “Is that what the little tap-tap-taps are?”

“Yes,” Casey affirmed, twisting to lay on her back instead of her thigh. Her face, though, still was angled in Alex’s direction. Her eyes were half-closed with eyelids that did not resemble Alex’s. Alex blinked with her inner eyelids, the transparent membrane she used to protect her eyes from the saltwater of particularly water-fogged nights when the sea seemed as restless as the hunters who circled for a bite to eat, just to toy with her. As she expected, Casey seemed more focused when she realized a new part of Alex’s anatomy had just been used- Casey was trying to examine her the same way Alex was examining her, but Casey’s hearing was far less advanced.

“Birds do not have legs like this,” Alex noted. “Not so soft and so …”

Casey made a new sound when Alex gently scratched at her exposed inner thigh with her nails, skimming the soft skin, letting her feel the sharp edge. She whimpered. Her eyes squeezed shut and her thighs jerked the slightest bit further open, the muscles in her stomach contracting. Alex smiled, black gums exposed even though Casey couldn't see. She did it again and Casey's head rolled to face the ceiling, another small sound coming from the back of her throat.

“So sensitive,” Alex breathed, her face edging closer. Casey’s jaw clenched.

“People, um- we- … I’m not used to touching there,” Casey tried her best to explain, “Normally only for- for a … purpose, Alex, ...”

“Oh?” Alex questioned, drawing herself even closer still, her front pressing against Casey’s side, and she heard Casey’s heart beat faster at the feeling of her breast. She moved her hand back up, prodding gently at her abdomen, and relishing at the sound of Casey’s groan. “And what might that purpose be?”

Casey’s eyes opened, squinting at the ceiling, and then her head lulled to the side, squinting at Alex’s smug smile instead.

“I, um … it's … you know. People do … things … sometimes too …”

“Silly woman,” the siren cooed, her tail slapping against the cold stone floor with amusement. “You think I do not know what I’m hearing? Your abdomen pulses with arousal.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed, but her pupils expanded slightly with fluster, with surprise. “I…”

“That is what all the nerve endings are for,” Alex reasoned, “that is why you respond so instinctively when I do like this.”

Casey’s jaw parted, her eyebrows furrowing with building emotion, when Alex ran a talon softly down the length of her abdomen, stopping only when interrupted by the waistband of her underwear.

“Is that what your song does?” Casey argued breathlessly, sitting up, and Alex removed her hand from her body as she watched her shift her torso up in a way Alex was literally unable to do. “... makes me- aroused? Complacent?”

“No,” Alex said seriously, yawning submissively and ducking her head, before remembering Casey probably wouldn't understand that. “Siren song cannot make you feel anything other than curiosity for its source, or soothe your nerves. Slightly altered, and can make you feel painless, so- good, but not good in that way. Only two purposes. And I wasn't singing to pique your interest, because, well, you are already next to me. It would be pointless to make you try to follow me while I am … directly beside you.”

“So I'm getting horny for an evil version of a mermaid only because the evil version of a mermaid is touching me right?” Casey said dryly, rubbing her forehead with her hand. “Jesus. I knew I felt lonely, but that's…”

Alex made several indignant clicks in her throat, siren-speak, before switching back to English- although Casey couldn't shake the feeling she had just been cursed out.

“I am not,” she said firmly, “an evil version of a mermaid. Those things are-” she cursed again in a language Casey couldn't understand, “annoying and they are fish. I’m a- … words …- mammal. Like you. Not fish. And horny? You have to translate that.”

“Aroused,” Casey said wryly, “Horny means aroused.”

Alex’s lips curved upwards and Casey knew she was being smirked at, but she couldn't pull her eyes away from her lips- pink, just like a human’s were. From the waist up, with the exclusion of her lack of ears, spiked teeth, incredibly large pupils and webbed hands, Alex looked entirely human. It did not help the fact she was struggling to admit she liked the way Alex’s hands felt on her skin when the siren touched her so carefully, so intentionally.

“Your heart is beating quite fast,” Alex agreed, pushing her torso up with her arms as best she could, and Casey tried not to glance down at what else she had that looked like a person’s. Alex scoffed softly, her eyebrows raising- of course she would notice.

Her tail interrupted the silence as she dragged it around to curve at the other side of her, her fins tapping restlessly against the floor, making small sounds at the water that must have ended up there from when Alex had dragged herself out of the unending pool beside them.

“Do sirens kiss?” Casey asked impulsively, her voice suddenly a bit shy.

Alex laughed at her.

“I am not against trying it,” Alex smiled, “Although I have not before.”

Casey bit her lip, averting her eyes as her cheeks colored further, tucking her knees up to her chest. Within what she assumed was a few hours, she had gone from feeling utterly alone in the world to having a creature of mythological legend down to … what, kiss her?

“Why?” Casey asked, fixing her eyes on Alex’s again, a note of accusation in her voice. Lawyerly, like she was cross examining someone’s motive. She knew she was powerless against a creature as strong as a siren was, but if Alex was completely against hurting her, it wouldn't hurt to try to regain a sense of control. Alex seemed to want Casey’s consent, after all. She seemed to be caring towards her, despite being a literal maneater.

Alex seemed to falter, slightly. She didn't have eyelids like Casey did, so her face scrunched slightly like a seal’s when she made an exaggerated blink. Her flirtatious pursuit seemed to pause.

Her tail fins flicked back and forth like an anxious cat’s- Casey found herself watching the movement as Alex thought how to phrase herself.

“I take pretty stones here,” she said, tilting her head to motion towards the formations that glinted light that Casey had noted to herself earlier. “I like thinking that they are mine. You are a pretty thing, and from our speaking, I find your mind also enthralling. I … want you to be mine. When humans want someone to be theirs, they do that, don't they? So I want to.”

“Objectifying a woman by comparing her to a pretty stone is inherently misogynistic.” Casey clarified, and Alex’s face scrunched immediately with confusion. As good English as the siren was capable of, those words were too big for her.

“Doesn't matter,” Casey shook her head with a snort, making the decision aloud.

She’d slept with people for worse reasons.

She parted her legs and extended her arms, inviting Alex to drag her much larger body between them. “Come here.”

It was much harder for Alex to move on land, although there was absolutely no doubt that she was lithe and agile in the water. Her arms were barely strong enough to drag her forward, so she bounced once, her larger body weighed down with a tail that moved only awkwardly when held down by the weight of gravity. Casey would chuckle, but that felt kind of rude. Besides, once Alex was so much closer, the thought quickly left her mind.

Alex did not know how to kiss, but apparently she knew the gist of it, because her lips parted slightly once her face was only a few inches away from Casey’s own. Casey led at first, then, cupping the smooth skin of Alex’s face with her hands and pressing her lips against hers.

At some point, the temperature dynamic had switched. Alex’s warmth, gained from circling around in a hot spring until she grew uncomfortable with the heat, had subsided. Casey’s body had warmed back up, and unlike sirens, her skin- softer and much thinner- radiated it. Alex seemed enraptured by it, pressing herself closer immediately, sliding her arms over Casey’s knees. Her bare chest pressed up against Casey’s, and the human woman groaned into Alex's mouth.

She tasted like saltwater, which seemed obvious. Her face was cool under Casey’s hands, perpetually damp but not in a way that felt repelling. She drew her closer, her tongue carefully examining Alex’s- when Alex countered, Casey realized a siren tongue was slightly longer.

Alex’s confidence had grown. Her tongue pushed Casey’s back, and she kissed more intently, now that she figured out what she was doing. She shifted the weight of her torso to one arm, her tail curving to the opposite side to try to balance it, so one of her hands would be freed to grasp at Casey’s shoulder, thumb extending over to brush at her collar.

Alex remembered humans could not breathe through anything but their noses when Casey pushed her shoulders lightly, separating them so she could pant, her face flushed. Alex watched her breathe with widened eyes, as if the act was enchanting to her.

“Do you not breathe through your nose?” Casey mumbled breathlessly, leaning her head back against a conveniently ridge of rock behind her. Alex shook her head, her free hand leaving Casey’s shoulder to point at her neck, and at a space somewhere below where her hips would be if she was human. Anatomy that vaguely resembled a whale’s blowhole was offered up for Casey’s inspection. Alex had said she had four lungs, and apparently two of them were much below where Casey had expected them to be- closer to the base of her tail. Alex could probably hold her breath for hours with a body like that, so even if she had needed to use the nose on her face, she wouldn't need too for far longer than Casey.

“What’s this for, then?” Casey wondered out loud, her hand drifting to trace the gentle slope.

A smile showed the edges of teeth that had just been pressed up against her's.

“To make me more attractive to you.”

“It worked,” the woman responded with a snort. Alex kept grinning.

“Some people,” the siren said slowly- the part that went ‘that I’ve eaten’ went unsaid- “have markings on the curve of their necks like someone had sucked on them. I understood it was for this purpose. May I try?”

Casey hesitated only briefly before brushing her hair over her shoulders, tilting her head to the side to expose her neck. Alex’s dark eyes told her she'd be gentle- and besides, with how careful she had touched her before with talons like razors extending from each tapered finger, Casey supposed she didn't need to be scared of her now. Still, her heart beat faster in her chest, her breath coming in shallow pants.

Cold lips attached to the point at which her neck connected to her collar, and she clenched her jaw not to whimper. Alex suckled incredibly gently, so gently that Casey had to press her hand to the siren's blonde head just to encourage her on.

Alex seemed very satisfied when she detached, pressing another softer kiss to the same point as she admired the mark she had made, the faint bruise blooming and standing out on Casey's pale skin.

“If you had nails like mine you could scar me,” Alex murmured, her eyes flickering from Casey’s neck to her eyes and back again, “That is what we do to mark ours.”

“I’ll settle for this,” Casey said with a small burst of courage, brushing blonde hair plastered against smooth, thick skin out of the way to suck her own mark where the siren’s jaw met her throat.

Alex made an odd mewling sound, as if her breath had caught somewhere between the siren vocals and the human-mimicking ones. Casey smiled against her skin and kept going, pressing kisses against her skin, until Alex made a small pattern of clicking sounds. She was cursing at her again- in a better way, this time.

“Your fins..” Casey noted quietly. The frills along Alex’s tail had unfurled, holding themselves up impressively on the appendage. The webbing between them was soft, pink like her lips, like the webbing between the fingers she had placed back on Casey’s thigh.

“I am… aroused, too,” Alex murmured as though she was faintly embarrassed by it, and had only just now realized.

It was Casey’s turn to smile smugly at her. Her frills stretched even further open, swaying back and forth as if unconsciously trying to show herself off. An intrinsic eagerness to display something, as observable as the thrum of blood in Casey’s lower body was to Alex’s ear.

“I want you,” Alex breathed, her eyes blowing wide with a sudden burst of energetic desire, her tone different- rambled, needy. “And I want to make you want me.”

Her body was shifting now, adrenaline seeping into inhuman veins and resulting in something that could only be described as a squirm as Alex tried to press her torso closer against Casey- and Casey, god, could barely process that she had a beast-creature, a literal siren, squirming for her.

“I already do,” Casey responded automatically, without giving herself the chance to be muffled or sly or at all smart about it.

Alex bared her teeth, a show of dominance the way she had shown off to Amelia hours prior, and she was about to slink back- Casey probably wouldn't perceive that gesture properly, after all- before realizing Casey’s breath had caught and the blood was rushing to her abdomen faster. She liked her display of teeth and talons and power. She liked her.

“How does this work?” Casey murmured in a breath higher than anything she had heard from her before, “I- I don't think, with talons like yours, you could- touch me like that. You don't have a dick, do you?”

“I have a tongue,” Alex responded, as if that, too, was obvious. “And I am very sure you will find I am good at using it.”

There are worse things in life than being eaten out by a siren who wanted her, Casey considered, but not with a scoff.

Ultimately, yes- Alex turned out to be quite good at using it.

[dykedvonte]

I think depictions of Anya being cruel to Curly or drawing out his suffering are artful and chilling but completely miss the point of the story and her character.

I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to have that "I told you so" moment with him but not in something callous or cold. Even if that is how it happened, she'd immediately feel guilty cause at that point she's not tormenting her tormenter or even the person truly at fault. She's doing something cathartic, similar to how Jimmy likely hits Curly to release rage he can't against the rest of the crew. She'd see herself as no different when she'd come back from the moment and see Curly cowering at her. She wants someone to take responsibility but how does being cruel to the defenseless help? Why would she want the power Jimmy has over her over Curly?

The idea of her extending someone else's pain is just so against the struggles she already faces and how she can't even bring herself to cause someone pain even to help them. Her very desire is to release herself from her own suffering and I doubt she'd even fine some sort of guilty release in being cruel to another.

[rinbylin]

雁回时 The Glory ep. 18 // 30

[inexpressiblybeautiful]

@sorrydetka I think this is true for us.

[maraschinotopped]

ive been staring at the naqtube channel page just doing analysis thoughts in my head for like 15 minutes and ive just been hit with the realization that Damn this is not normal. normal people dont do this. either the mental illness or the mild sickness is doing something to me right now.