#i wasn't particularly subtle with anyone else's names

[lizhly-writes]

for villain fiance - a thousand words and/or fusion dance with classic fantasy setting isekai 👀

classic fantasy isekai…  not otome isekai, hmm?  actual isekai? okay!  i have aged everyone down accordingly (everyone's like, 16 in these kinds of stories, right?)

...

In fantasy land, they called Chen Lihua Lady Saintess, or Lady Hero, or just Hero.  Never her name, but then again, no one used her name back at home either.  “Hero” was, frankly, a lot more flattering than “Ungrateful Waste of Space” or “Dead-faced Little Bitch” or “What, It’s Her Again?”  

Truly an unimaginable improvement. Truthfully, everything was an improvement.  Anythiing and everything she could eat, instead of her family’s leftovers; anything and everything she could wear, instead of bargain-bin rejects.  No insults, no sneers, no whispers.  Everyone treated her with more kindness and respect than she had had in the last five years combined.

This was the best kidnapping that Chen Lihua had ever been involved in.

The only person who hadn’t been 100% friendly towards to her was Knight Jovis, who was her designated guard by virtue of, as far as Chen Lihua could tell, being the most talented knight that happened to be around Chen Lihua’s age.  This seemed to be more important than the fact that Knight Jovis hated Chen Lihua with every fiber of her body.

There really didn’t seem to be anything Chen Lihua could do without provoking her, which is the reason why Chen Lihua had decided to deliberately provoke her, just to see what would happen.  The results were entirely uninspiring. Some gritted teeth, sure, but no violence.  Maybe a comment, about how Chen Lihua could be making better use of her time, but no snide remarks at her appearance or parentage or anything.  

People really were very nice to her here, even if Chen Lihua wasn’t particularly nice back.

“She’ll warm up to you!” Prince Yulan said, who had vastly higher standards for niceness than Chen Lihua did.  “Eventually!”

“You really think so,” Chen Lihua said.  Chen Lihua was not the kind of person that people warmed up to.  Chen Lihua was not the kind of person that people liked, in general.

Prince Yulan nodded enthusiastically.  “Of course!  You have plenty of good qualities!”  He even really seemed to mean it too. Chen Lihua wondered if he had something wrong with his eyes.

Prince Yulan, the third-born prince of House Zether, was quite possibly the most optimistic person Chen Lihua had ever met.  This was most likely why he was her tour guide.  He was sunshine-y and cheerful and perfectly willing to account anything and everything in the best light possible, which was probably a bonus, if people were trying to get her to like the place enough to truly protect it.  He never got frustrated or annoyed; he didn’t seem capable of getting frustrated or annoyed. 

It was disturbing.  Chen Lihua almost preferred dealing with Knight Jovis, because at least Knight Jovis openly hated her.

“It’s not really you,” Prince Yulan said.  “Truthfully, Micaiah doesn’t much like anyone, ahaha. She’s not really a people person.  The only person she really does like is Haakon – aaah, don’t look at me like that, Micaiah!  It’s the truth!”

“Haakon?” Chen Lihua said.

“My fiance,” Knight Jovis said, deigning to speak for the first time today.  There was a warning growl to her voice.  It reminded Chen Lihua of girls warning her to stay away from their boyfriends.

What fun memories.

“What, you have a fiance?” Chen Lihua said, more to irritate Knight Jovis than out of an actual disbelief.  “You?”

Knight Jovis bared her teeth.

Prince Yulan blithely ignored their interaction.  “Haakon’s nice!  He’ll actually be accompanying you next week, by the way, instead of me.  I’m going to be called away on business…”

“So Knight Jovis’s fiance will be around me all week?”

“....That’s an odd way to say it, but yes?”

Chen Lihua smiled brightly at Knight Jovis.  Knight Jovis gave her a look that said she would like to set Chen Lihua on fire.

Chen Lihua would love to see her try.

unusual fic-specific asks for authors

[thestreamweaver]

Just remembered the "What If V2" series of the older marvel comics. Ororo and Logan's daughter Kendall/Torrent was soo cool!

Also (alongside Logan looking so comfortable), they have a very young son too, but he wasn't named.

What do you think his name is or should be? What kind of powers would he have?

I don't know this for sure... but I heard a theory that his name might have actually been (....wait for it....) Evan Munroe...

I don't know if this is actually true or just someone tossing flames, but if it was, then this would make a lot of sense

It seems kind of far-fetched to think this to many, myself included... but if you look at different places in the episodes of Evolution where Evan Daniels is, there are subtle hints. Like when he signed up for the skateboard competition...

Spoiler alert: he didn't sign on where the D's were...

Also how Ororo is specially connected to him (of course if he is her nephew then she'd be particularly interested in him just in general) it also looks like he and Logan got familiarized a lot in the show to......... of course that would happen with the whole teacher/ student thing, but I personally think there's more to it. I input it in the fanfics that I write.

Personally, I have a theory that Ororo and Logan were together before the series started and had a son together, then they were forced to split ways because of Weapon X. When he disappeared, she went to look for him and had to leave their son with her sister and brother in law. After it became clear that Logan was so debilitated mentally that he couldn't be the dad they all wanted and needed him to be at that time, she decided that it would be best for everyone involved to leave little Evan with his aunt and uncle, and they ended up raising him as their own. He found out the truth during the show, and that's one reason he acted out so much... they just hid it because you know how Marvel's handled that couple so far 😞

The only countering factors would be I don't think Ororo would abandon her child like that... but then again, she loves Logan more than anyone ever, so maybe her heart just couldn't take it 🤷🏼‍♀️

I could debate myself and others on the subject for days, hahaha 😅

But, back to the original question..... I don't know... it could be my theory, or it could be something else... I have a name for one of their kids in my fanfics. Their youngest son (so far 🤭) is Ayotunde. Which means "joy has come again" in Yoruba.

What would your preferred name for him be? Do you have a name idea?

[v3nusxsky]

Request: Emily Prentiss x reader; reader is a newer member of the team, and Emily is a sub. Smutty if possible! Maybe Emily calling reader daddy?

You're mine 18+

*Authors note~ this is my first Emily prentiss x reader smut. So I hope I can do this some justice. I'm loving writing for her so much so feel free to send me in some more prompts. This is going to be based off the scene in season 4 where Emily has to bait viper*

Trigger warnings~ dom r sub Emily, daddy kink,  overstim if you squint pet names degrading praise strap oral fingering

Prompt~ see ask ^^^^^

You were the newest member of the team, you had became rather close with JJ. The others were nice and friendly but JJ was your first friend on the team, Garcia being a close second. You were always open with your sexuality, having to hide it in your younger years had shaped you into loving yourself now. Why hide what was a part of you. That is why when you laid eyes on the gorgeous Agent Emily Prentiss you knew you were done for. She was simply stunning and if you were honest you're dream women. So that is why you flirted every chance you got, and yet despite being the amazing profiler she was she seemed to shy away and simply not notice the subtle hints you were giving.

You noticed things though. They way she'd blush after being caught staring at your fingers a little too long or if you held eye contact with her she would blush and duck her head. The other agents noticed it too, they'd never seen Emily act like this, normally she was so confident and outgoing. JJ was the first to come to you about it, the idea that Emily could be feeling the same as you but maybe less direct? Maybe she had past with the subject where she wasn't accepted and that made her more shy? JJ knew more of Emily than anyone else, they were quite close and that gave you the confidence to pounce, if she wasn't gonna take charge then you certainly would.

The team decided to go out for a celebratory drink after taking down a particularly tough un sub. By now Emily was use to the flirting you would bestow on her, the rest of the team even had placed bets on when you'd finally make a move. You waited for the perfect opportunity before you made your move and thankfully Emily was more than happy to come back to your place with you. The team seemed to be way too drunk to even notice the pair of you had slipped away from the dark corner you were occupying.

Kisses were shared in the taxi for the short journey to your place, passionate kisses were shared as you fought for dominance, you ultimately winning as she would pull away for air. Completely unlike her. You both stumbled through the door hands pawing at each other never wanting to let each other go. You led the way down the very familiar path to your bedroom before managing to slam her body into the bedroom wall trailing your lips up and down her throat. "Em? Are you sure?" You murmured against her pulse point before sucking the very skin between your lips intent on marking her. When she moaned out the consent that was it, your instincts went into overdrive and you immediately stripped Emily of her clothing leaving her just in her underwear and bra. Truly she was the most beautiful women alive and you made sure of telling her that.

Laying her gently on the bed you made sure to kiss every inch of skin available while showering her with love and compliments. She reacted to your touch instantly and that only spurred you on more. "Are you going to be a good girl for me em?" You murmured in her ear. She nodded and whimpered as she felt your hands trail over her chest in a teasing manner. You brought your mouth to follow the trail of your hands. You couldn't help but chuckle at how easily she submitted to you, she acted like such a dominant but truthfully she was a good little submissive.

Your torturous teasing didn't end there, no you wanted to hear her beg for you to do more. And she gave you that incredibly quickly, you had to tease her about just how quickly she was willing to beg you, "aw Em! Such a desperate whore for me? You need more sweet girl? You need me to make you cum? To fuck you dumb like a good slut?" You taunted watching the way she squirmed and her eyes darkened with lust. "Come on Em! I asked you a question. I won't touch you if you don't answer" you teased moving away from her body to prove your point. She scrambled to reply, "daddy please I need you to make me cum" she whined reaching for you to come back. You chuckled and moved back to her, "was that so hard Em?"

Settling between her thighs you swore there was no where better to be. You made quick work of removing the remaining barrier between you and her now absolutely drenched core. Taking a teasing swipe you couldn't help but moan at her taste. Her moans were delicious and spurred you on, you wanted her to feel good and you were determined and you wouldn't rest tonight until she was begging you to stop.

You lost count how many times she came all over your tongue, truthfully you don't want to stop, she tasted so damn good but your tongue was aching so you withdrew your mouth revealing in her whines of protest. You wiped your chin before coming up to kiss Emily, she could taste herself and that made her even more turned on and desperate for you. You smirked and trailed your fingers down her body to her dripping cunt, trailing your fingers through the slick there. "Oh my darling girl, is this all for me?" You purred at her. "All for you daddy please more" she whined bucking her hips into your hand.

You gave her your fingers and allowed herself to rut against them taking the deeper with each rock of her hips. You were mesmerised watching her take you so well you added a third finger loving the response you got. You could could tell she was close when you removed your fingers and stood up to dig around the bedside table. She looked absolutely stunning like this and you couldn't help but rush through strapping up.

Emily gasped out seeing your length before shakily moving to sit on her knees in front of you. "My my my, dirty girl. You gonna suck daddy's cock like a good girl?" You mumbled bringing a hand to make a make shift ponytail and guide her to your fake cock. "Well then pretty don't let me stop you" was all the warning she was given before you thrusted your cock deep into her throat. She moaned and gagged around your length, her eyes watering ever so slightly. The sight alone enough to throw you over the edge into bliss, but you didn't want to, not just yet.

Soon enough you found yourself pounding into her soaked pussy as it's walls fluttered around the fake cock. Both your moans and the sounds of her cunt filled the room. You fucked her like this till she was begging you to stop, "no more daddy no can't take" she panted out pleading with you. You just chuckled and lifted her leg to your shoulder to reach a new angle within her, "you will give daddy another pretty one" and with that command you worked just a little harder and brought your hand down to rub circles on her clit as you both came for the final time that night.

After fucking her through it you could see the exhaustion in her eyes as they glazed over, indicating her mind was in a far better place. You quickly threw the strap else where and cleaned her up before coming to hold her close to you. "Come back to me Em. You did so well pretty. Can you try follow my voice love?" You murmured on repeat until you broke through her hazy mind. You trailed you fingers down her sides as she whined in protest. "Please I can't" she whimpered only to be met with a chuckle, "I know Em but truthfully I don't care. You look so hot like this all fucked out of your mind. The great Agent turning into a submissive slut for me. It's making it hard for me to not jump you again" you finished off with a mischievous smile. She drifted off to sleep in your hold after promising you that this would not be a one time thing. And true to her word it wasn't, it was just the start to something bigger.

Word count~ 1521

[thelampisaflashlight]

Keep It Brief

[Something, something, Mountain really likes Dew's outfit. Mentions of seasonal weight gain, but that in and of itself is not sexualized, fairly neutral on that front. Not suitable for younger audiences.] Below the cut.

Maybe it's the way Dew is dressed; Is it the baggy t-shirt that barely covers his ass, which is hardly hidden by the black briefs he has on to begin with, or maybe it's the socks that come to his mid-calf and draw Mountain's attention to the long, pale expanse of his bare legs, who can say really?

Either way, there's something about the... casualness of his current outfit and the fact that Mountain knows Dew would tug his pants on if anyone else were here that has him staring, without shame, at the subtle squish of the hybrid's flesh where the elastic squeezes around his ass.

Normally, when Mountain wanders over to Dew's side of their shared dorm, the other at least throws on gym shorts or has boxers on, which don't quite have the same effect on him as these briefs do.

They're not even particularly nice looking; Simple black cotton, no designs or lace, but they do look comfortable.

Look soft.

Dew is all lean muscle, so even relaxed as he is, his body doesn't hold much softness to it, though parts of him have rounded out a little since the weather began to cool.

People often exerted themselves more in winter without realizing it, and Dew was no exception, so, of course, he ate more, both to make up for lost energy and because of the holidays, so, although almost unnoticeable to most, Mountain, who spent almost every day -and night- around the other, had taken notice of this change.

Not that he'd bring it up, there was nothing wrong with Dew gaining a little weight, but even if Mountain said something in a complimentary manner, he's not entirely sure how he'd take such a comment; Dew has always been at odds with his body, and Mountain wasn't about to give him something else to focus on, good or bad, because the chances of him becoming obsessive over it were high.

Really, Mountain thinks, it's best to stick to baser thoughts on the matter... namely the fact that Dew was currently having to adjust his briefs and giving the earth ghoul the smallest glimpse of his butt in doing so.

Now that looked soft.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, big guy?" Dew asks, breaking Mountain's concentration on the slight crease between his cheeks and thighs.

Mountain hums, propping himself up on Dew's bed, where he's been laying on his belly since coming over to this side of the room, feeling the bedframe protest with a metallic squeak as he rests his chin on his palm.

"Clothes." he replies, then adds, "Laundry?"

Dew casts his gaze over to the small pile of clothes in the corner of his room, "Ugh, yeah, I gotta do that later... It's such a pain in the ass-"

As Dew rants about the intricacies of doing laundry, from, "If you do it too soon, you wind up with dirty clothes still!" to, "And don't get me started on the detergent pods-" Mountain watches the hem of his shirt rise and fall, flashing his underwear with every other word.

"And-" Dew pauses and Mountain blinks up at him, "...Mount..."

"...Yyyyessss?" He responds meekly, face flushing as Dew descends upon the bed, crossing one bare thigh over another.

"...Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" he asks again, tongue licking over pink lips...

.

.

.

"Oh, wow, Dew has you doing his laundry, too?" Swiss pats Mountain's back sympathetically, watching the taller man crouch down to toss clearly too small shirts into the dryer, "Poor guy, you can't catch a break with that guy for a roommate, huh?"

Mountain hums, squeezing a bit of excess moisture out of the delicate briefs he pulls out of the washer next, "...Certain hardships are easier to live with I'd say."

Swiss can only stare in confusion as Mountain clicks the dryer shut, briefs still in hand.

"Huh."

[cebwrites]

fuck it we ball. woe team shisui be upon ye

returning to this old flame is. wild.

tae and shisui were put on a genin team with someone else from the academy, but they quit a few months in (times of war were tough on a kid) and rio was assigned to them instead; the first two are around the same age, rio's a couple years older

i'll have a proper design for rio eventually, this is more or less just a placeholder for me to see if i could still draw in the naruto style - rio is also their team's medic

if rewatching this show has taught me anything it's that small children can be SO nasty for no discernable reason

tae had a lot of pressure on his shoulders to live up to his old man's name, people telling him from birth that he was gifted or spoiled or never did enough so eventually he just stopped putting in the effort until his team gave him the confidence to try again - for himself rather than anyone else

tae was a gloomy little ghost in the academy; he'd keep to himself a lot, freaking out some of his peers with eyes a little too wide and an unwillingness to be vocal unless it suited him, a complete contrast to his cheerful "normal" twin brother

even though it's widespread and pretty vital, there was, and to some degree is, a stigma that healing jutsu are reserved for mostly women, partially because tsunade was a big proponent for getting medics put on four man teams as a necessity (even though dan was right there with her), so growing up rio caught a lot of flak for it even though it wasn't a particularly new practice by then

the exclusion shisui faced was a lot more subtle and had less to do with his demeanor or personal choices, rather the fact of who he was to begin with - no matter how kind or cheerful shisui was, there'd always be a trail of hushed whispers talking about how he was so pleasant despite being an uchiha, or maybe rumors that he was some meanspirited asshole all along

some folks kept up the niceties, others didn't hide their wariness, but was was clear from the start was this undercurrent of distrust between konoha and uchiha clan that went both ways

tae never bothered with rumors (unless it was to pick a fight with whoever was spreading them about his friend) and rio was a refugee taken from outside the village unaware and indifferent to their politics - uchiha were usually assigned to teams of other uchiha upon request, but shisui could really feel at home with these two after they all got over the initial awkwardness of having to trust someone new

their sensei (not pictured) was a huge factor in these kids getting along at first, he seemed to genuinely love them up until the mission where he was found guilty of treason - a small part of them still wants to believe he actually cared for them (he did, he really really did) but at the end of the day their teacher's hatred for konoha was more important

they were given a replacement leader after that, a man who was less put together but tried hard to teach and nurture all the same

they had a solid handful of years together before the coup, after that everything sort of fell apart - shisui was gone, danzo had tae "interrogated" for potential associations with the uchiha which shut him down emotionally, and after a mission gone awry that resulted in rio getting held captive by enemy nin for a week and heavily tortured, they went on an indefinite hiatus from shinobi duty

[daedalusdavinci]

19) you’ve been blinking SOS in Morse code at me for ten minutes honey this award ceremony is supposed to be honoring you bruharv

prompt meme

you want autistic bruce, right? ofc you do. everyone wants autistic bruce.

It wasn't revolutionary to claim award ceremonies were long and boring. Harvey didn't like them, but he'd hazard a guess that most people in attendance didn't like them either, particularly when they weren't slated for an award that day. Still, it was difficult to name anyone who hated them more than Bruce Wayne, the eccentric playboy billionaire currently beaming vapidly for the cameras as the current mayor ran through a script he only just managed to make sound sincere.

Harvey gave it ten minutes before he dug out his phone, shooting off a quick text to Bruce.

SENT: Bruce, you've been blinking SOS in Morse code at me since you stepped onto the stage. This ceremony is supposed to be honoring you.

SENT: Also, you know I don't know Morse.

Brucie: But you understood it.

SENT: A contextual guess.

SENT: Fifteen more minutes. Come on.

Brucie: Save me when it's over?

Harvey sighed, giving Bruce a sharp look across the crowd as he pocketed his phone again. He would, though. Of course. He always did. It was half the reason he even came to these things.

The awards ceremony, as always, was stiflingly long. The urge to fiddle, fidget, or find something else to focus on was excruciating, but Harvey felt like he owed it to Bruce to stick it out, waiting with him for when it would be over. Somehow, Bruce managed to hold together his pleasant disposition the whole time he was on the stage, but Harvey had older memories of when he hadn't been quite so good at it, when long nights of undivided attention had left him frazzled and snappish. Alfred had delicately referred to them as incidents. Harvey mostly just remembered the aftermath of them, sitting in Bruce's room and talking him through it while Alfred tried to keep the peace outside.

Finally, the applause signaled Bruce's freedom. Harvey lifted his arm as Bruce dropped heavily into the seat next to him, letting it rest across his shoulders as the exhaustion finally wiped away Bruce's smile. He had a pretty smile, really- he'd practiced it to be- but there was something reassuring about that deadpan slotting back in place. It always meant Harvey was getting the Bruce he remembered, instead of the Bruce the public got nowadays. "They need new amps," Bruce muttered. "They were buzzing the whole time."

"It's over," Harvey promised him, nudging their heads together gently. "Just a little handshaking and we can go. I'll be right with you the whole time."

"It's so loud." Still, Bruce's hand found his own, lacing their fingers together.

Harvey hummed. "Tell me again about that book you're reading."

Bruce's laugh was a soft huff of air. It wasn't a subtle distraction, but the way Bruce squeezed his hand, he knew it was appreciated anyway. "It's on advanced chess techniques. It gets really into the history, with..."

[nexility-sims]

Hello!

Numbers 2, 4 and 16 for Rowena please :)

HARD MODE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT  /   accepting !

2. what is/was your character’s relationship with their mother like?

this is an upcoming subplot in part iii !!!! "upcoming" as in, you know, when i return to the main story in 1278142 years. i've definitely referenced their relationship throughout, but the gist is that it's always been strained. susannah is a proper society women, and her reputation is very important to her, but rowena has never been an easy daughter for a woman like that. she was rambunctious and outdoorsy and not particularly feminine as a child, she was a poor student who caused trouble, and she's been a constant source of chaos and scandal her entire adult life. rowena's refusal to settle down and get married was always a special sticking point, too; she's the ancient age of thirty-two when she and alfonso get married, which means susannah had given up on the idea. she wasn't an alva vanderbilt about any of it, tho.

their relationship was strained, but it's also true that susannah always loved her and treated her gently, and rowena was never so resistant as to be resentful. i think susannah constantly second guessed herself, wondering if a harsher approach might've changed things, but she just didn't have it in her to act like that. it's a bit tragic, in a way, that she gets her wishes—her daughter is married, and to a prince, with a little family of her own—at the expense of not being able to really experience it alongside her. they live in different countries, after all, and susannah's health has been on the decline, which means traveling isn't easy. meanwhile, rowena is plagued by feelings of inadequacy and discomfort exacerbated by the awareness that, even when she's doing what her mother wanted for her, she's still doing it wrong, failing at every turn, embarrassing her in front of the whole world. i don't think susannah feels that way, but the truth of it wouldn't change how rowena feels.

4. has your character ever witnessed something that fundamentally changed them? If so, does anyone else know?

i feel like the key part of this question is the word "witnessed," so ... seems like the answer is no. rowena has certainly been changed but more so by things she's participated in—be it incidents in past relationships, becoming a mother, et cetera. but, there's also the sense that rowena isn't someone who experiences an event and wakes up different the next day. growth or losses are more gradual and subtle for her, i want to say. she'll witness something then realize years and years later that maybe, perhaps, it wasn't something she shrugged off easily after all.

i will not give spoilers, but :^) this kind of delay is a real problem for everyone

16. which does your character idealize most: happiness or success?

happiness ! she couldn't care less about success. part of it is because she's never had to care about it. she has the privilege of immense wealth and a prestigious family name, and this was even before she became part of a true royal family. success also suggests a kind of ambition, and rowena isn't exactly ambitious by conventional metrics (or maybe any). she doesn't have concrete aspirations and, if she did, working toward them wouldn't bring her much joy or fulfillment. she's lazy and complacent, but she's also someone who finds happiness in small, everyday things as much as the grand, romantic things. i do think she's under the mistaken impression that happiness is a permanent state, and a complication of her actual unhappiness is wrapped up in not understanding why she can't achieve that state—even when, especially when, she has everything that anyone could ever want.

[astramachina]

I saw your post about how in Thomas Sharpe's bio he was considered effeminate and not seeming particularly heterosexual. Do you think he has a complicated relationship with his potential attraction to men because he's also fearful of them due to his father's abuse? He wilts so easily around Edith's father. And Lucille is the one that "avenges" him.

I think Thomas Sharpe sits within a very unfortunate vortex of circumstances that would lead anyone to develop a myriad of complications when it comes to any sort of relationship-- father, sister, lover, you name it. Realistically, acting on any potential attraction towards men is automatically made almost impossible given the time Crimson Peak takes place . While capital punishment was no longer in the cards, "gross indecency" could still land a man in jail for a decade. And the Sharpes already had a reputation on paper, what with Lady Sharpe's gruesome death and all.

That being said, any kind of abuse leaves marks that linger. It's wholly up to interpretation if his father's particular brand of abuse somehow dissuaded Thomas from even considering looking at other men with genuine desire. Maybe it gave him serious daddy issues and made him thirst harder but there was just no space for him to even allow himself to explore that aspect of his sexuality due to everything else going on in his life. With, you know, the scamming, and the murder, and the sis banging.

As for Carter Cushing, I think it's more to do with him not being used to dealing with American men. (From a meta perspective, in regards to genre, you have that clear line between Carter's "brusque, protective father/no-nonsense American capitalist" and Thomas' "limp-wristed baronet with sopping wet eyes/the obvious object of a vain young man's woman's desires" that is prevalent in romances, especially period romances, so his withering is more to do with trying to show him as this harmless, pathetic fella.)

Lucille wasn't so much avenging him as she was putting their plan into action, which actually brings up another subtle yet brilliant aspect of Thomas' sexuality. It's the fact that he serves the role of femme fatale (homme fatale?), relying on his wiles and looks and charm to lure in women. His wilting is tactical. It serves his and Lucille's purpose as the dream team of fucked uppery.

In my little homosexual brain, I choose to believe that if any of their cons were to have gone sideways and getting Thomas to seduce a man would've proved more fruitful to their endgame, not only would he have jumped on it ASAP but enjoyed it all the way down. Lucille would've been only been a fraction less annoyed than her usual.

[phynoma]

HALLOWEEN COUNTDOWN

As a countdown to Halloween, I'm sharing the original statements I wrote for the Consuming AU! (<<click for ao3 link) The statements function as horror shorts that work on their own

Statement 4: The Collector

CW: lab tests using foetal tissue, family pressure, transmasc pregnancy scare, unwanted pregnancy, distortion-typical gaslighting, familial trauma, pseudocyesis with supernatural elements, dysphoria

Character Notes:

Kevin Park is transmasculine and nonbinary. He uses he/it pronouns. His voice starts out nervous and a bit fussy, not particularly high class. When he's alone with prey, his voice grows deeper and more full, with a background like a cape whipping/unfurling–a sort of Dracula-esque darkness that it can reveal at will. Think stingrays, hypnotising cuttlefish, cloaked figures, Audrey 2

KEVIN

I suppose you should know that I never wanted children.

Even as a young child, I found the idea of playing "house" abhorrent. I enjoyed being the only child in my family, doted upon by my parents, and I had no inclination to gift that devotion to anyone else.

By all accounts, I was a dutiful child. My mother, especially, had great hopes to see me as an independent business woman in some kind of scientific field– engineering, or surgery, or tech– who would nonetheless settle down with another independently successful man and start a family. I succeeded only on two counts: I became a biologist, and I was successful.

If I had hoped that these examples of success would be enough for her to overlook my notable failures– namely, that I forsook being her daughter, and showed no interest in a family of my own– I was disappointed. The latter was worse, in her eyes, than the former. I think she would have approached my transition with a sort of grudging acceptance if I had at least settled down with a partner with whom I could produce her grandchildren.

Instead, I did the next best thing: I began working in a lab that researched genetic anomalies in foetuses. It gave me enough of an excuse to combat her questions over family dinners about why I didn't want children, when saying "I simply don't want them" wasn't enough.

At first, the conversations were few and far between. She might ask me if I’d started seeing anyone, and I’d find out one of her friends had become a grandmother. Or, she’d make a subtle comment after seeing a celebrity pregnancy announcement.

As I entered my early thirties, however, the conversations became more frequent and more pointed. My father stayed out of the ensuing arguments, but I could see the reproach in his eyes. I doubt he cared about my choices, except that I was upsetting my mother.

I began avoiding both of my parents when I could. I'll remind you that I was an only child, and uncommonly close with my parents. Since college I had made a number of acquaintances but no real friends, and I still rented a room in my parents' terrace house. I was somewhat isolated, but content that way. I went to work, did my tests, got an occasional drink with my coworkers, picked up groceries, and went home. This repeated every day, week after week, without change.

But I was excited to be in the lab. I was at the Ferral Biological Research Institute at the time, in their immunology department. We used foetal tissue, you know, donated, to grow viruses and test vaccines.

On a day like any other– maybe I was a bit tired from a late night, but nothing unusual– I found myself just… staring into my petri dish. I looked at this little sliver of tissue that wasn't anything, just some cells, and knew that my mother wanted me to be a living incubator for this sort of thing. I mean, it's nothing like what people plastered all over their posters when they picketed outside the lab. I stared, and stared, and for a moment it seemed like all the saturation left the room and swirled down into that dish.

I stood over it in my PPE, frozen, my hand locked in place. I watched the thing shiver, and expand. Multiply. It still was nothing, a piece of tissue, but it was growing. I felt like it was…reaching for me. Like it wanted to slither inside of me, to turn my temperature to its liking, to bite its way into my flesh and suck its sustenance, its substance, from me.

And then… it was gone. Just gone. I blinked, and I didn’t have a dish, or a pipette, or anything. It was like I’d walked to my table and just… hadn’t prepared anything. I looked for it, of course. But it was gone. Thought I was going mad, but, well. Let’s just say I blamed it on insomnia and moved on. Unnerved, yes. But by the time I got home that night, I was mostly concerned with avoiding my parents and having a peaceful night in.

It's important to note that I didn't go out at all between the weeks of October 9th and 25th–but it was six weeks after that that my symptoms began.

It was subtle, at first. Stomachache, loss of appetite. Chills. I thought, (mirthless laugh) for a while, that I was coming down with the flu. Stayed away from the lab; and when my symptoms cleared up enough not to be a danger to our work, went back.

When the dizzy spells started, I thought it might be overwork, or side effects from the new dosage of T I was trialling. I checked in with my GP, but my bloodwork came back fine.

I started to see things, from the corner of my eye. Faces. They were gaunt and hungry, and their eyes were the dull grey colour of hospital curtains. Women started to come up to me in grocery stores. They’d take my hands, or put their hand on my shoulder, and they would just…look at me knowingly, pityingly, and then simply walk away again. The sound of babies crying started to echo in my head like a siren– I went back to my GP for that, thinking I had tinnitus.

My ankles swelled until I was hobbling. I had to put in a request at the lab for a chair so I could continue my work. My coworkers, when we went out, stopped ordering drinks for me. When I asked why, they didn’t seem to know. I became so ill in the afternoons that I went back to my GP again, and for the first time I looked at the box marked Are you pregnant? and I wondered.

But of course I wasn’t. I couldn’t be. I had never been with anyone for it to be medically possible. I’d had a girlfriend, for a bit, but it hadn’t gone anywhere and we’d broken up months back. But I felt this weight inside of me, something wrong, and I thought of the wriggling thing I’d seen in my petri dish, and I bought a test.

It was negative, of course it was negative. But I started testing weekly after that. Then daily.

A woman with a child in each arm came up to me while I was smoking in the park and told me “congratulations.” I gained weight. Every day I stared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth– at the stubble that I couldn’t get to grow into an even beard, the circles under my eyes– and I wondered what people were seeing when they looked at me.

Months went by. The illness never went away. I began craving odd things, nonsensical things. Marmite on pickles. Parsnips dipped in ice cream. My lab notes. The condensation on the inside of my coworker’s safety goggles when they hadn’t affixed them properly.

One day, I walked in on my mother knitting a baby onesie. It was pink on one side and blue on the other. I asked her who it was for, and she just giggled to herself and started singing an old nursery rhyme. Her face was pale, and gaunt.

I went to specialists, but nothing could explain the weight gain, or the sleeplessness, or the dizzy spells, or the cravings. Nothing could explain the way I felt trapped, more and more, inside a body which had only recently begun to feel like home. Hormonal adjustments, sleep studies. Nothing worked.

The pregnancy tests I was now taking daily didn’t have lines. Instead, they formed twisting, pink patterns that hurt my head to look at and made the dizziness worse. I kept taking them.

At work, things were tense. I kept to myself even more than I had before, but there were anxious rumours going around. Samples were disappearing. The security cameras didn’t show anyone breaking in, which meant it was someone inside the lab. But there was no evidence of anyone bringing samples out, either. If the culprit wasn’t found, our funding could be cut, and a costly investigation launched.

In the unisex bathroom, on breaks, I began methodically tearing toilet paper into one cm strips and eating it as my lunch.

My skin felt too tight, most days. I’d lost all the weight I’d gained, then gained it back. People still came up to me in the market, with their unasked for and unwarranted touches, their gentle, knowing concern. I discovered that if I smiled at them, their bodies would seem to lock in place, like mine had at the lab. It was easy enough to move them out of the way and continue on with my business.

My mother unravelled the knitted onesie and re-knitted it half a dozen times. She never moved from her chair, now. The fibres of baby-soft cotton were stained the blood of her rope-burned and blistered fingers. My father sat in his place at the head of the kitchen table and watched me come in and out of the house with dull eyes.

“I’m proud of you, son,” he’d say if I’d approached with the day’s groceries. His gaze never left my left shoulder. He’d nod and repeat his phrase, his eyes bloodshot. “You’re making your old man proud. I’m proud of you, son.”

Seven and a half months after I started noticing my symptoms, everyone was fired from the Ferral Biological Research Institute, pending investigation. In one of the supply closets, they’d found every single one of the missing samples from the lab. There was never an official report, but we heard the rumours.

The supply closet had been one that had been rarely accessed, and no one could remember going there in the last nine months. The shelves were all arranged with the stolen samples in test tubes. They were meticulously labelled, named and dated but the names were things like “ego death” and “cassandra” and “haphephobia,” and the dates were the birthdates of every employee in the building.

There were hundreds. In each tube was a tiny, doll-sized piece of a human person–a heart, a minuscule hand and forearm, a liver, a clump of hair–impossibly crafted of human tissue. The more you looked at them, the more you doubted your first assessment of the contents; and yet, the more you became certain that they were alive. Waiting. Hungry for a host. Waiting to slip inside a perfect incubator and spawn and hundred thousand more tiny, maddening lies.

My symptoms disappeared shortly after I began working at Lars Grisham Labs. Some of their samples go missing, on occasion. But more often than not, I prefer live subjects, now. And I’m always looking for new places to store my collections.

ARCHIVIST

…Statement ends.

[Breathes steadily for a few moments]

ARCHIVIST (CONT.)

(soft) Thank you.

***

If you want to read more from this AU, you can find it here!

Post 1 | Post 2 | Post 3

[myristicisms]

“ Yes, human. I know that must seem ridiculous to you. ” He knows that tone well enough, there's a subtle annoyance that heats his body at the fact that a perfectly fine man such as Sephiroth could have had a much better upbringing, could have been treated with the same respect as any other child had while growing up or at least had the bare minimum that Genesis experienced with his own parents and yet corporate greed and scientists with their wild ambitions had completely ruined that, had ripped it away from the silver haired man before he even knew he could have had it. “ You're as much a human as I am, remember that. ”

And that's a warning as much as it is an attempt at reassurance. Comfort wasn't something he particularly excelled at, Angeal had always been better at expressing empathy purely because Genesis had never experienced it being shown to him as a child and didn't quite understand how to get that irksome little feeling of grief to go away when others clearly were distressed. Comfort to Genesis looked like silence beneath a tree, book in hand while praying he wouldn't hear his name called by a shrill voice to demand he clean up and go to some dull event to be toted around like some accessory but that was not comfort to others, he'd found.

“ So then why would you be just anyone to me, you are Sephiroth, a talented swordsman with a heart too full of kindness, I know it's difficult to express it when you've never had the chance to but with these new beginnings will come new experiences, we'll both have to pick up on things we're not quite used to and that too is part of being human. ” Genesis is not willing to let the topic go, with his hand atop the man clad in black's he can't help but to offer what he hopes is a comforting smile, “ You never stop learning new things until you die, that's the beauty of knowledge and growth. ”

Heavy is his heart, to think of all that's been lost and all they stand to lose and yet he knows well enough to trust in both Sephiroth and himself that they'll eventually find a place in the world where they can be safe, where ShinRa will eventually give up on the hunt and perhaps that book collection he so desperately yearned for might slowly grow once again. This is his fault and once again one of his dearest friends was coming to bail him out at their own expense, the least he could do was try to provide comfort or some sort of means of soothing. But comforting was Angeal's forte, maiming and shredding was all Genesis was good for when it came to wagging his tongue.

He wishes it were Angeal sat in his place, the larger man would be much better at understanding what to do, what to say to Sephiroth and Angeal certainly deserved the chance at living that Genesis had so selfishly clung to despite knowing it was the raven haired man's choice to have his life cut short.

Regardless of the fact, it was Genesis sat beside Sephiroth, it was the man clad in crumbling leather with a body slowly falling apart much the same that had to try and offer comforting words despite never having had to do so in his life, not in any way he deemed meaningful anyways.

“ I'm safe? I think you should worry about steering clear of my ire rather than if I'm safe from waking to a mouse staring at me one morning. ” And yet his own jest feels as though it falls flat, once more it seems Sephiroth is falling back into his own mind and he wants to add on that perhaps he'd tolerate something such as an ant farm or Goddess forbid a rodent but he can't force the words out. As is, neither of them could care for much else aside from each other, perhaps a stubborn weed too. “ I think once things calm down for us we'll be able to care for more than just ourselves, it's just... A matter of needing the time to settle and be able to actually stick around, though a hardy plant would be quite nice, I know Angeal would have approved. ” The smile atop his features drops subtly, fingers once more squeezing the hand within his grasp. He knows all too well the grief over losing Angeal, but whereas Genesis has had nothing but time to mourn he's sure that up until now Sephiroth has done nothing but busy himself.

“ Hm... Perhaps the romance subplot can be held off, much as I love cheap romantic stories I'm not particularly keen on making a bunch of women swoon. I've read the sorts of things the fanclubs have written about us and they're... Interesting finds, to say the least. The last thing I want is to further feed into that. ” Soft laughter that's interrupted by a quiet snort, amusement at the memory of first stumbling upon the deranged scripts of someone within the Red Leather fanclub and experiencing genuine dread over reading something so simple yet so insane. He recalls trying ( and failing ) to get Angeal to read it and how he fought the urge to try and convince Sephiroth simply because of how mortifying an experience it was and Genesis was not a man that enjoyed suffering on his own. In the end, it was only his eyes scarred by the admittedly cheesy writing and while he'd wished to share the horror with those he cherished, he didn't mind the memory being something only for him to hold dear to his heart.

There's a shake to his head, not quite willing to entertain the thought at the moment, sweet as it was. “ As much as I'd love to return to Banora, there's just no telling whether or not ShinRa will decide to revisit what's left of the place. The Northern Crater might just be our best bet but that's... A very long journey and I'm afraid I don't know how far I'll be able to make it before... ” Before his body finally succumbs to the degradation, “ Perhaps we'd be better off risking Banora though, there's likely tunnels under where the village once stood, I recall hearing something about there being a decent flow of mako beneath the town but seeing as I'm not a mole I couldn't really dig far enough down to see for myself. ” And it certainly wouldn't be so bad for his life to end in the same place it began, should they not succeed in finding a cure. A deep breath sends an ache through his chest, trying so hard to find a good plan that wouldn't result in capture or death but ShinRa's reach was far wider than he initially assumed and he loathes the predicament they've fallen into.

“ I believe you, you're a man of your word after all. Perhaps it's best to sleep on it and return to planning when we've both clearer minds, ones empty of any previous thoughts or biases hm? ”

"...Human?" he repeats with skepticism, because never in his life can he recall being called 'human'. Not directly, anyway. And while he knows that to the world, he presents as human, he isn't. At least not as far as he saw it, and while once upon a time he had never really seen anything wrong with the way he was, now that he had experienced the world and the way others went through life, he had learned all that he was missing.

Now, sometimes all Sephiroth wanted was to be human. To blend in, to be someone anonymous that could wander the world without garnering a second glance from anyone.

"Well, no, I wouldn't consider you just anyone, but I..." He shakes his head, suddenly irritated by his inability to express himself in a way someone else might understand because he himself hardly even understands what he means. So he'll do what he always does and dismiss the subject instead of continuing on with the frustration of having thoughts he can't express.

He's never wanted to be any of the things ShinRa has made him. He's never wanted to be a hero; he doesn't even know what that means, exactly, except for what Zack has always explained it to be, and going by Zack's explanation...

Sephiroth is not and never will be a hero.

He'd rather Genesis be the hero, really. If he could have given him the hero's mantle, he so gladly would have without a second thought. The mantle has never given him anything except stifling adoration, and he has never been suited for such a thing, preferring instead to keep to himself quietly.

He'd give Genesis his life, really, if he could, because in his eyes, Genesis deserves to live far more than he ever did.

"You're safe. I can't imagine I'd be very good at caring for anything more than a pet rock," he jokes with a hint of truth; he can hardly care for himself, after all. How is he to care for a living creature, whether a mouse or an ant farm? Even a plant would be far beyond his capability. He'd probably over water or forget to water the poor thing... "But if you'd like something, once we get where we're going, we'll find a plant. A hardy one." Sephiroth almost says that Angeal would know what kind, but Angeal is gone. They can't ask him anymore, and the reminder is a stab of pain in his heart that he wishes he couldn't feel. He does his best not to show it, but he has become a poor actor, and his expression saddens again.

"A bird, then. And it can star alongside us in the trashy action horror film... And the trashy action horror film can have a trashy romance subplot that has the lonely, bored housewives swooning while everyone else rolls their eyes..." Anything to keep the dream alive, to try and keep his spirits up, but the melancholy is a strong feeling that he doesn't quite know how to keep completely at bay.

"...I could try to get your books for you..." he suggests, though they both knew he can't. Even if he could, where would they put them? Neither of them knew where they were going next.

His gaze when it meets Genesis's is an apologetic one.

"The only place I know of is the North Crater and all of the caves there...Or the Forgotten City...? ShinRa knows about them, but their presence there is minimal to none. They've never found them to be worth their time, as far as I'm aware... We could go back to what's left of Banora?" Though that last option leaves him feeling sick and uneasy, knowing that it had been Angeal and Genesis's home and that it had been firebombed into ashes because ShinRa could never just leave it. But surely ShinRa would not think to look there, either, and with the climate, it seemed to be the best option to Sephiroth as a place Genesis could go to recover as best he can, and from there, they could surely figure out where to go next.

Again, he shakes his head.

"It was my choice. It is my choice. Zack couldn't save Angeal, but I will save you somehow."

[saviorfoxowlis]

N:Era: Off the Track: Part 2: Gone Her Way

The train rushed through the tracks within the wilds of Rosaberg.

Cyras pressed against a glass window, smushing her face and paws like a flattened marshmallow. This "temperate" forest was quite different from the jungly forest she grew up in, as she saw a sparse amount of trees. Leaves carpeted the floor, whether green and new or orange and dry.

The club car commenced a new activity. Saxophones performed with flutes and some kind of percussion instrument. Cyras knew drums, drums, and drums, for she wasn't well-classed in music. Wilder songs weren't much of anything. She made up some beats herself when she was with Ryvoh and Kryyk, but never these complex melodies.

Baynana began rambling about comics. She poked at Rosod and said, "This comic is known as The Grass is Green."

Rosod's eyes were half-lidded, a fact Baynana couldn't register, and she cracked all her knuckles with her thumb.

Baynana said, "You see, the idea is there's this girl born with a magic power. She sees gaps in reality and can see past this illusion that's caused by these mole creatures."

"Oh cool, racism against Bohs."

"No, the comic is not racist!" Baynana said, rolling her eyes.

"I was just joking."

"I wasn't laughing," Baynana told her. The emphases in her inflection took Rosod by surprise. "The book was actually written by a Boh, and the main character is a Boh, and the country is a Boh country. Naturally, lots of Boh-based ideas, and the creatures are like Bohs."

"Whatever. What's with the name."

"The illusion is broken by having green eyes."

"Neat," Rosod said, having green eyes and red fur. Green was a fairly rare color in Voto and Vytyl, and she never met anyone with green fur before.

"You should try reading this," Baynana said.

The cover of the book wasn't particularly inviting, showing a Boh girl who was running through the wilderness, holding a broadsword.

Lilu snickered. "Rosod's got herself a little friend."

Cyras wasn't paying attention as she shimmied from left to right. And as she got to one direction, she'd flip her fur tufts clockwise. Go right, flip her fur and tail counterclockwise.

Lilu had a mane instead of fur tufts.

"Yo, Cyras," Lilu said as she stepped by her and attempted dancing with her. However, Cyras was way better, Lilu wasn't mobile.

Lilu took a step left and a step right. She felt envious of Cyras' fur, so sleek and smooth.

"How do you keep yourself so clean?"

"Usually with water."

Lilu wasn't armed to the teeth, but her teeth were armed. However, before she could give a corrective bite, Baynana gasped piercingly, catching everyone's attention. "Where's 27?"

"After 26," Lilu told her, as sarcastic as Cyras.

"No," Baynana said, "I'm seeking a comic book, and one was known as 27, and that's the one I was gonna review." She whispered, "Gonna review, yeah."

Lilu shrugged. "You probably forgot the comic."

"No, I brought the 27 here. Someone else must have grabbed my comic. Has anyone been acting suspicious lately?"

"Well," Rosod said, "I saw someone in a hood who was walking by, stealing peoples reading materials."

"Really?" Baynana asked.

Rosod put her paw on her forehead.

"We need to figure out who took my book!"

Cyras was working on the mystery of stealing the show, until Lilu said, "That's part of our purview as Team N:Era."

"You just hate dancing," Cyras said.

"Yup." Lilu grinned. "Now let's go."

***

Each Ascended had the power of disguising herself. However, instead of altering their appearance, they altered the perceptions of those looking at them. Ryvoh used this power on Ahmond and Lilu so they wouldn't know she was an Ascended queen when they met her. The spell was simple and subtle, and Owlis weaved through the crowds and came back with several cheeseburgers. She hoisted herself up the stairs.

Then the phone rang.

Owlis picked up. Usually someone else would answer the phone, and she didn't want to be known as vulnerable, therefore she mimicked an accent. "Hollo, who is this?"

She overheard a whisper. "Oh, not this Twayt again. I can barely understand her stupid accent."

Owlis raised a brow. Foxes had ears sensitive enough she could hear the blood flowing in veins, much less Jazmyn who whispered in uppercase.

"Bring me Owlis on the phone. This is Jazmyn Caesum, Queen of Sandrun."

"Okay dokay, I'll be getting Imperial Majesty Owlis." She took a few false steps before realizing what would be the best prank of all time. Owlis pushed her tongue out towards her teeth and dropped her soft palate. Speaking as nasally as possible with a childish tinge, she said, "Yeah, who is this?"

"I am looking for Owlis," Jazmyn said. She muttered, "These bunches of morons."

"Well Owlis told me, Cyras, I'd better answer the phone," Owlis said. The slight problem was she couldn't get her voice quite right. Owlis always said "ah" sounds like o's, like, "onswer", also she enunciated her t's more than Cyras.

"You don't sound like Cyras," Jazmyn said.

"You don't sound like a woman, specklebutt." Forming a Cyras-esque insult required letting the words out with full force like a cannon.

"I am here to talk about an adult matter that a child, much less a Wild one, could understand, so get your cousin for this, or else I'll be telling her you've been insulting me."

"I didn't insult you, nature insulted you, I was simply observing." Wow, Owlis thought, Cyras could really slay someone with her words. "Also we found out the source of the blockages of water in South Sandrun and turned out this was because there was a cold front. Somebody musta left your soul somewhere in the dam. Now you listen here and you listen good-" Wait, she was slipping back with the Owlisian voice. "Nobody makes fun of Cyras Sionnachigans Sumhyr."

"You're just a child. Where is a competent adult?"

"Of course you would need a competent adult. I'm just saying, the only ones you've got is a few guards who are apparently good for licking themselves, instead of being good with back rubs. Now, we either have one, need none, or want none, pick the answer you like, and shut your spot mouth."

Owlis hung up the phone.

***

Cyras the true approached Ahmond, who was asleep. She shook her awake.

Ahmond blinked and asked, "Cyras, what's going on?" She pushed her paws out.

"Give us the comic," Cyras told her, a yellow wolf pouting behind her. Apparently, puffing the cheeks ran in the Ice Cream Pack.

Ahmond rolled her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, I didn't steal her comic."

"I didn't say you stole my comic!" Baynana said, then she got a smug smirk like she had proven herself. "I didn't even say a comic was stolen."

Ahmond said, "If you come up to me, asking for the comic, I assume you assume I have the comic. I don't."

Lilu said, "Let's be real here, I doubt she reads."

"No, I don't." Ahmond narrowed her eyes. "Wait."

Cyras hopped up on a passenger seat, getting as high as she could. She put a paw over her eyes like a buccaneer. "Well someone must have Baynana's comic somewhere. And Rosod's handmirror."

Lilu said, "Wait, if you're doing this for school, you normally carry books, right, like, specific books."

"Yes, almanacs, and I guess, sometimes I walk around with casual reading."

"Yeah, so what if someone's jacking books and they grabbed your mirror by mistake."

Rosod said, "That's crazy." She walked back, giving Baynana a quick tap on the flank with her fingertips so she'd know she should follow.

Lilu shrugged. "Sounds like a great theory to me, and gives us something we can pretend to do while we go to sooo-fist-i-cated Rosaberg."

Ultimately, after twenty minutes, they could form no leads. Scent wasn't a great tool as odors wouldn't stick on mirrors or books, and no one would let someone sniff their sacks.

The hyena said, "Have you tried asking if anyone's seen anything suspicious?"

Cyras said, "Not really. But I feel like that would get the perp sweating."

Lilu said, "I'll go and see if I can find anything that seems weird, then I'll join you for dinner."

"Ah, five-course meal," Cyras said.

As Lilu walked past, she hip-bumped Rosod, who gave an animated shriek and curved away. "Watch yourself," Rosod said.

Baynana asked Rosod, "Are you gonna read more?"

Rosod stared at the comic and said, "Wasn't really my thing."

"Oh, the first part isn't enough," Baynana told her, "you really should read more."

"I mean, like, I'm just not interested in this type of story," Rosod said. "Seems like the girl is just some girl." The weasel had enough tact she didn't say "this girl was interestingly boring."

"You really need to read a little bit of a story before you get anything," Baynana told her. "This is honestly one of the best comics that I've ever read, and the story gets great."

"I'm just uninterested in all of this nonsense."

"Makes way more sense in a bit."

"Eh yeah, okay."

"Just one more volume," Baynana told her.

As Baynana was talking Rosod's ear off, Lilu searched for Ahmond who had moved on up towards coach. The coywolf was talking with her brother.

"I already said no, I didn't steal the comic book."

Vanos waved at Lilu.

Lilu wasn't ever charmed by Vanos as much as most girls were. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and gave a short wave back. "No Ahmond, there's something weird going on."

"Two people misplaced their handmirror or comic book. I think that's actually pretty good for a train."

"Well, how often are you on a train?"

"Very often," Ahmond said. I have family in Saint Owlis, so I take a train. I also have family in Ralax, so I take a boat."

Lilu blinked as she never thought about Ahmond vacationing. Her entire family wasn't on the edge of poverty, but they certainly weren't flossing. "How do you afford all of that?"

"We don't."

"Ohhh..." Lilu paused. She asked Vanos, "Are you all really that poor?"

"You don't have to worry about us," Vanos said, "we know what we're doing, and how to handle our money." Clearly not. Owlis actually got involved with how they handled money in the past.

Lilu tilted her head. "What about Baynana?"

Ahmond said, "Her family is of a better salesman status than us."

"Swindlers," Vanos muttered.

"Vanos," Ahmond said.

"No, he's right, don't censor him," The wolf-hyena Kyofi said. "He is absolutely right, that Paenut and Honae are big grifters. They keep scamming people, selling moo cream as baabaa cream."

"That's higher quality," Lilu said.

"Yup, and that's a misrepresentation of dairy."

Ahmond said, "That's why they've been thrice removed."

"That doesn't, Ahmond, that's." Lilu shook her head. "That's not what that means."

Mosor, Kyofi, Vanos, and Ahmond all stared at Lilu. They literally meant thrice removed from the family.

The hyena Lilu said, "Oh." As she walked back down the aisle, she saw a book on the floor. She sniffed the cover.

The Twayt at the seat said, "Hey, that's my book, why was that on the floor!?"

Lilu grimaced but then grinned in joyous discovery. "I'll need to borrow this book for the moment so we can figure out a thief."

The bird realized, "You're a member of that one team who helped take out the lie detectors. You're part of N:Era." Lilu smirked and nodded at the surmisal, having been glad someone appreciated her. Unlike Ahmond and Cyras.

"Correct," Lilu said, "I am Lilu, leader of Team N:Era."

Lilu turned back down the train. She stood by Cyras and said, "Good news, I've got the scent from the book, but the problem is, I can't quite pin who this is. Smells kinda like a Crimson."

Cyras sniffed and said, "Rosod. The one who stole the book is Rosod."

Lilu said, "That was quick."

"I just sniffed the book," Cyras said. She was attuned with all her senses, being a Wilder. Present and aware.

Lilu said, "Oh wow. Uh, are you sure?" She scratched her mane.

"More positive than a battery's butt," Cyras told her.

Lilu said, "Rosod's in the back of the train at the observatory car. I don't know how you want to approach her, or what we're gonna say."

"Hand over the book or you get the hook," Cyras said.

Lilu bit her lower lip and looked at her eyelids while bobbing her head. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

[hugheshugs]

don't call me baby | b. brisson

au masterlist

summary: based on this ask. brendan brings home a girl who makes you cry and he feels the need to defend you.

contains/tw: just the brisson family. dad!bren being a semi-good dad, hunter being a good older brother, a bitchy fling who insults y/n. and i'd like to preface that being a stay at home ____ is never a bad thing, but it was used as an insult in this case.

pairing: dad!bren x daughter!reader

word count: 1.4k

note: this can be read as a standalone !!

when brendan brought his.. fling over, he didn't know what to expect. he hadn't been particularly open about his dating life with his kids so this was a new ballpark.

yeah, he messed around with girls from time to time but he'd never been even slightly serious about any of them until now. scratch that—he wasn't serious about this girl. mandy, was her name. he just.. wanted to see if she was a good one to stick with because he could see something down the line.

those were the key words: down the line.

so, he wanted to put his theory to the test, hence why the four of you were sitting at the dining table at the moment. everything was going good so far which he was pleasantly surprised by. he thought either you or hunter would have done something to scare her off by now, but you hadn't.

"so, y/n," mandy started as she swirled some pasta around her fork. "what do you do for work?"

"oh um, i don't actually have a job right now," you hesitated to say.

"oh!" she replied, shocked. "are you busy with sports?"

"school, actually," you corrected, unable to meet her terrorizing eyes.

okay, maybe it hadn't been going as well as brendan thought. sure, nothing had gone wrong but nothing was going great either. unbeknownst to brendan, hunter despised mandy and mandy seemed to despise you, for some reason.

you picked up on the hostile energy a couple moments after she walked through the door and so did hunter, but brendan remained oblivious as usual.

"i see," she nodded, feigning understanding. "so you're like.. the stay at home daughter! you do things around the house to keep things going."

"i—"

"she's not a stay at home daughter," hunter cut you off immediately, not wanting you to agree like he knew you would. "she does a lot of things that keep her busy."

"like what?" she batted her eyelids in question.

he crinkled his eyes at her, turning to brendan as if to say is she fucking serious? all he received was a shrug in response, brendan's own eyes saying i don't know what's happening.

"like studying, hard," this was one of the few ways your brother showed his affection—by standing up for you. it was hypocritical but if anyone other than he or brendan came at you in any way, he was going to take your side.

"and she's involved with clubs, she runs their social media and stuff. it's a lot of work, you might not understand."

"hunter," brendan's eyes widened at the subtle insult.

"no— you know what, i'm done," hunter shook his head, exhausted by her behaviour. "it was nice meeting you, sandy."

"it's mandy," you whispered before he could leave the table.

"yeah, i fucking know," he muttered back before standing and speaking at a regular tone. "should i take anyone else's plates?"

"shouldn't y/n be doing that?"

your eyes bulged. her words stung a hole into your heart but the way hunter's teeth clenched scared you more than the hurt.

"i thought i said—"

"okay, okay," brendan tried to ease the fire, jumping up onto his feet and cautiously looking at his son. "hunter, just take your plate into the kitchen, i'll deal with it later. are we all done with dinner?"

hunter scoffed, taking your plate with him as he walked away. brendan muttered a string of apologies to mandy as you sat quietly in your seat, overthinking her words. technically you were a stay at home daughter. she wasn't wrong.

"i don't think i said anything wrong," mandy told brendan quietly. "she is a stay at home daughter, she doesn't make any money to support the family. she's just living here for free like a freeloader"

brendan felt a pang in his heart, an immediate reaction to the insult being thrown at his daughter. and the worst part? she kept going.

"she doesn't even talk, look at her," she extended her arm at you. "she doesn't have anything going for her, baby."

you fiddled with your fingers, continuing to look down at your lap as she bruised your self esteem. she beat you black and blue with her words and you could say you didn't feel pain like this very often. brendan didn't know why he remained silent for as long as he did. maybe he was in a state of shock, because quite frankly all his expectations were crumbling right in front of him, but the heartbreaking sound of your sniffles were what caused him to snap.

his head turned towards you quicker than ever and he could see the tears dripping down your face. a raging anger burned through his chest, nostrils flaring as he glared at mandy.

"get the fuck out of my house," he demanded in a dangerously calm tone.

"what?" she gasped, bringing a hand to her heart.

even you looked up at them, taken aback by his unusual behaviour. it was always unexpected when he stood up for you, no matter how much your family knew he always would when he deemed fit. somehow, it hadn't crossed your mind that this would be one of those times.

"get the fuck out of my house," he repeated, this time more aggressive. "i don't want to repeat myself again."

"but, baby—"

"don't call me baby!" he finally broke, causing you to flinch.

hunter ran out from whatever corner he'd been in, eyes wide like saucers as he realized his dad was livid. no one wanted to cross paths with an angry brendan brisson but clearly mandy didn't know that. he walked up to your seat and gently touched your shoulder, making you look up at him red eyed. after just one look at you, even he was angry. he knew better than to let it out because your dad had it under control.

"i'm not your fucking baby," he grit through his teeth as hunter pulled you up to your feet and into his arms. he felt your wet tears dripping onto his neck.

"my daughter is the most important girl in my fucking life and i won't let you disrespect her like that," brendan spat, pointing towards the front door.

"get out."

"ugh," she made a sound as she grabbed her bag, hoisting it onto her shoulder.

"you were never that good in bed anyway!"

"ew!" you exclaimed through cries, shoving your head further into hunter's neck.

he gagged. "we didn't need to know that."

"leave, mandy," brendan pinched the bridge of his nose as he crossed his arms.

"i'm fucking going," she grumbled as she left.

"and don't call me back!"

a slam of the front door gave him his answer and he looked down at his feet as he let out a deep breath, taking a moment to think. the sound of your hiccups hurt his ears more than he could ever have imagined. he hadn't seen you cry like this since you were a little girl, not knowing this was a regular occurrence and you always just hid from him.

hunter ran a soothing hand through your hair as your dad slowly walked up to you. hunter's grip loosened as brendan pulled you into his arms, holding you in front of him by your shoulders.

he bent down to your level but you failed to meet his eyes as his soft ones remained fixated on your frame. his hands cupped your cheeks and he tilted your head up, however you continued to find interest in the lights above his head instead of him.

"look at me."

your eyes flicked towards his but this only caused more tears to well up. he tried his absolute hardest not to let his emotions show, the only thing on his mind being that he had to comfort his daughter.

"you're okay, hm? she's gone and she won't come back," he wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

you felt a spark in your gut at the attention he was finally giving you. you wished you could have it more often but you didn't want to dwell on it in the moment.

"she was right," your bottom lip quivered.

"no she wasn't." he didn't miss a beat. "she wasn't, don't say that."

"she was," your voice cracked. "i-i don't do anything. i just study and stay home."

"well, you don't need to work right now," he shook his head, telling you it was okay. "i want you to focus on your schoolwork, she just doesn't know that. she's stupid, don't listen to her."

your swallowed the lump in your throat, your doe eyes nearly making him sick as he continued to wipe your silent tears away.

"it's alright, sweetheart," he mumbled, cradling your head as he pulled you into his chest. you wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him tight. "you're my strong girl, aren't you? i love you so much, y/n. i'm so sorry.

--

taglist<3 @hockey-lover86 @cuttergauthierr @bbbbruins @makenzie3s @wxndxh @kenzie3165 @jayrami3 @hailcale @hockey-lover86 @bordelhoe @bordeleau @emsully2002 @ana-maa @rainingsunlight @fialalover @power2myheart @equallyshaw

[chancedarling]

"I don't understand it myself."

Chance just offers one of those bony shrugs. He does understand - about no-name pouring some kind of healing energy into him. He understands watching those mortal wounds close and knit back together as though it was some kind of weird special effect. But the pain he'd felt was real. The wounds he'd suffered had been real. The only reason Chance is still breathing right now is because he's real fucking -- l u c k y.

But he doesn't want this dumb chucklefuck doing something stupid because he thinks Chance has the capacity to heal... Even though it might be slightly amusing to inform him of the err in that assumption... After the fact of course.

"Guy with a face like a slapped arse. Mr No-name. He was there. Only thing I can think of is that he did it somehow."

Chance's voice is a slightly lower. More clipped version of his cheery usual upbeat self. And the questions pouring from Zaid that he couldn't actually answer were just adding to his annoyance. How, what... How the fuck should he know. A slight grind of teeth only steeling his determination to find out. He's not used to not having all the answers. Being on the back foot... Frustration bubbling just below the surface... But. But... He's ever the consumate professional. Keeps that mask pulled down and fixed tight... For the most part.

Holy hell - did this guy ever actually LISTEN? Probably not. He hears him prattle something about Una, but he's wrong. Again. If the subject didn't centre firmly around Zaid, Chance gets the impression that pretty much everything else was a wash.

"Una attacked someone in her uh... What did she say... Beast form. Not her animal form."

Chance corrects. He's subtle about it though. Never tell anyone outright that they're wrong. They tend to get overly defensive. Those guards go back up... They're less... Forthcoming.

"That's what she said at the meeting, right?"

But then he's off... Rambling and making statements with - as far as Chance can tell - no basis, fact or evidence for any of them. Just sweeping generalisations about what he assumes... Or... Maybe what he would like to believe.

Those hornets targeted this animal.

Did they? Or did the big cat take a swipe at the flying buzzing thing. Just like any house kitty might with a fly or a spider that was unfortunate enough to skitter across it's path.

They want to destroy it, yeah.

Do they? Or, like pretty much any real hornet or insect, are they simply acting out of defense. As far as Chance understands, things like this don't tend to sting or attack unless provoked. And... As Chance had not provoked them, he'd not been particularly bothered by them (other than the macabre images on the screens). And it sounds very much like Zaid is trying to convince himself more than anything.

Someone ordered them to do this, didn't they.

Did they? Who and why? If the cat thing is a creature of the Island, just as these hornets seem to be, maybe it just made the mistake of getting in the way of the wrong thing.

This isn't random, they don't gain anything from killing it except...

Isn't it? It's a natural defence mechanism. Undoubtedly the hornet telly things were NOT natural, but that wasn't to say the drive and the instinct weren't the same.

Chance is quick enough to turn his head. After glimpsing the quick and destructive emination displayed on the little monitor, the very same thing repeated right in front of him. Maybe the witchy-wolf-Una wasn't the most dangerous thing on the island... At least people had a chance of surviving one of her beast attacks. Chance can't see anyone walking away from being... Vapourised. And yet, Zaid had bitten his tongue. Like the true coward he is.

He's taken a few quick steps back at the intense light and heat. Those strange coloured blobs obscuring his vision for a moment at the sudden blindingly bright flash.

"Can they?"

Chance just returns. Voice calm and easy once more. He wants to know more. He will know more. About both Zaids capacity for destruction... And about these hornet bots. He just has to play it right...

"It looks like a construct. A creation. The monster wasn't to blame for Frankensteins ego. But it was the one to suffer."

Chance gives less of a fuck about whether the cat got away or not. He's blinking, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the low light. Watching as the remaining hornets swarm around the fallen one. Okay well, stupid did the truly stupid. For fucks sake. Goddamn moron. If they hadn't been in danger from the bots before... They sure as hell were now.

"Zaid."

This time, he's talking quietly. Because if those bots decide to take out the source...

"Head to the water. Quickly. Get your head under the waves and STAY THERE. For as long as you can hold your breath."

Chance's answer was as dire and pragmatic as they came. At first, it also was a surprise that it came from Chance at all. Zaid's general impression of Chance after all, was exactly what Chance intended: that the lanky Irishman was an affable, genuinely kind-hearted fellow with best interests; surely the type who cared about the welfare of all animals. Possibly a vegan (Zaid didn't judge).

But then the explanation came and Zaid's eyes widened in horror. He even took a step back, to give Chance a once-over. The bloke was in a state of artful 'careless-chic' partial-dress (which sharply reminded Zaid of Tej), enough for Zaid to look down to Chance's midsection to see...nothing. Not bandages or even scars - though a gutting wouldn't (couldn't! could it?) be healed by now.

"I don't understand," Zaid said, not wanting to accuse Chance of being melodramatic. "How...how did you survi-?" It was like one of the hornets heard (registered?) their chat, and immediately turned its attention to them - or rather, had something to show them. For Chance, a nightmarish replay from a completely different angle. For Zaid, a gruesome scene like a horror movie clip. Zaid covered his mouth with his curled hand at the sight.

"Flipping hell, mate. Was that real? How the fuck are you still alive." Zaid looked back at Chance's midsection, still incredibly confused, almost tempted to reach out and touch that unmarred midriff. Chance was so sure it wasn't a were-something.

"Una hurt someone in her animal form," Zaid pointed out, but he sounded willing to let that theory go. "Those hornets targeted this animal. They want to destroy it, yeah. Someone ordered them to do this, didn't they. This isn't random, they don't gain anything from killing it except..." Except what? Vengeance? Chance had no desire to stop the hornets, leaving this all up to fate.

One hornet crawled away from the pack, click-clacking delicately on the pointed ends of its six legs, its TV head twisting and tilting this way and that. When Zaid's hands glowed white, its TV face turned towards the pair, wings flittering in a specific way. Like a sound-pattern, a specific, repetitive chatter.

The TV depicted a scene of Zaid and Tej in the wilderness, Zaid shoving Tej away and ducking behind a thick tree. Bent over and heaving like he was going to be sick. And then: an explosion emanating from Zaid outwards, bathing everything in his diameter in a blinding white, oddly gooey light. When it died down, Zaid was still there, alive and on his knees in a charred circle.

Before the clip ended, Zaid raised his hands and blasted the hornet with that same viscous white-heat, near-melting its midsection as it collapsed backwards on its back. It whirred and spasmed, and the other hornets abandoned the tiger-beast to attend to their colleague. Buying the bloody beast enough to to crawl back into the trees, leaving a bloody streak on the ground.

The nausea in Zaid dissipated, and he lowered his now-normal, still slightly-smoking hands. "Well. It's done now. I'm sorry it tried to kill you, but it's just an animal, Chance. It can't help itself." Zaid stared at the hornets tending their own, trying to fly the molten wreckage away. "These things can."

[mimisempai]

I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you 3/3

Summary:

Loki would like to express his feelings to Mobius but doesn’t know how to do it, he finds a sympathetic ear in Miss Minutes, without knowing that Mobius is suffering from the same problem…

Chapitre 1/3 - Chapter 2/3 - Chapitre 3/3

A little story, of love, of friendship, of two idiots in love…

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32351812

3804 words - Rating G

The door closed on the two stunned men. Mobius automatically locked it behind them.

He was the one who decided to break the awkward silence. He pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Loki, who didn't know where to look.

He took his hand between his own and called softly, "Loki, look at me."

Loki obeyed and turned his eyes to him.

"Do you really believe that?" asked Mobius gently.He was still shocked by what he had just heard, by the realization that he and Loki had actually the same uncertainties about their relationship.

"What?"

"That I will one day ask you to leave?"

"That's what everyone does," Loki replied with a broken voice. "When I have nothing to offer or when I disappoint their expectations, people abandon me, because Loki alone is not enough. You're the only one who's stayed so far, so I always wonder when I'll do or say the thing that will make you leave."

"Oh Loki, come here." He drew Loki to him, so that he was straddling him. He put his arms around his waist and looked up at him.

"Sylvie is absolutely right to call us idiots, each of us fearing on our own that the other will leave."

Loki looked up a little surprised, "You? You're afraid I'll leave you?"

"What's so amazing about that? You're young, handsome, smart, sexy as fuck and look at me?"

Loki flicked him on the forehead and said, looking threatening, "Don't speak ill of the man I -" he stopped, aware of what he was about to say, his heart pounding.

Mobius took his chin and held it up to him, his gray eyes straight into Loki's, "The man you what?"

Loki decided to take the same step of trust he had taken the first day they met when he decided to grab Mobius' hand.

He closed his eyes and said, "The man I love. You Mobius, the man I love."

Mobius' hand still held his chin tightly, and when Loki opened his eyes, he was surprised to see an expression of vulnerability like he had never seen on the man's face.

He released his chin from Mobius's hand, leaned his face on Mobius's until their lips touched, and whispered against them, "You know what I told Mimi before you came in, before what you overheard? I was telling her the reasons why I love you, although in reality they are only some of the reasons why I love you."

He kissed him gently before moving closer to his ear and repeating everything he had said to Miss Minutes right down to the bit about the tight jeans. His words brought a slight blush to Mobius' cheeks.

"My jeans? Really?"

"Count on my lover to remember only that reason." chuckled Loki before continuing, "but those aren't the only reasons, they're the main ones of thousands of other reasons. You love me in the moments when I am not able to love myself. You understand me. And when you don't, you do everything and go all the way to clarify the things you don't understand. You accept my sadness and anger and live in harmony with them. You are smart and you learn quickly. You let me be myself and encourage me to discover more about myself. You know how to take me boldly, wildly and forcefully when we make love. Yes, yes, that's important too! But you are always gentle and caring. You don't hesitate to shut me up and lead us when necessary. You call me all the sweet nicknames and give me hugs when you leave and come home."

His voice tight with emotion, he stopped and for once it was he who needed to wipe a tear from the corner of Mobius' eye.

"So tell me if these are the words of someone who wants to leave you? No one can hold a candle to you because I don't need anyone else, I don't want anyone else. I only want you."

Loki leaned over and put a hand on Mobius' jaw and gently pressed his lips against Mobius' and then opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.He felt Mobius smile into the kiss and meet Loki with the same passion.

They broke the kiss a few moments later. Mobius gasped and resting his forehead against Loki's in turn, whispered, "I love you."

He kissed him lightly and then whispered again, "I love you Loki, god of mischief, and I have no intention of leaving you."

He kissed him again, this time more deeply, putting all the conviction of his feelings into the kiss. Loki put his arms around his neck and kissed him back with the same fiery passion. Both filled with the elation of being loved in return.

They parted panting. Mobius, tucking a lock of Loki's hair behind his ear, smiled and murmured, "As nice as this is..." He moaned because Loki had just delivered a particularly naughty and not at all subtle hip thrust. "I said as nice as it is, I'm too old to do this on an office chair, and I much prefer the privacy of our home."

Loki calmed down and repeated in a dreamy tone, a shy smile on his lips, "Our house."

"Yes, our home. Didn't you think of it that way?"

Loki nodded, "Yes, but hearing his words, right after what we just admitted to each other, sounds different. Like something real and really ours. It's a little confusing, sorry."

"No, no I know exactly what you mean, love. There's a human proverb that says Where your home is there your heart will be too, but actually I've always believed the opposite, where your heart is there your home will be. Wherever we are, if you are there it will be home."

Loki smiled tenderly, "Mobius, you're so sweet I'll probably get cavities."

Mobius pushed him and Loki almost fell on his butt laughing.

They were still laughing as they walked out of Loki's office, oblivious to two sets of eyes that followed them with fondness.

Sylvie and Miss Minutes sighed in chorus, "Finally..."

"Come on Miss Mimi, let's have a drink in honor of the two idiots."

Miss Minute planted herself in front of Sylivie and said, her little hands on her "hips", "Huh, me, an animated IA, does that ring a bell? Unless you want to blow my circuits..."

"Then you'll keep me company, I'll drink in their honor and you'll laugh at them."

The little watch giggled and they headed for the TVA cafeteria.

Suddenly, Sylvie slowed her pace slightly, Miss Minute looked at her puzzled and understood when they reached Hunter B-15's level.

"Hey HB!"

Hunter B-15, no, she was HB now, -Miss Minute still had to get used to all the name changes-, HB turned to them, and when her gaze landed on Sylvie, she had a smile that Miss Minute had never seen on her face.

"Sylvie! Miss Minute! Hi!"

"Are you done for the day?" asked Sylvie gently.

"Yes, and you?"

"Also, after playing matchmaker of sorts."

"Oh you have to tell me about that, there's a lack of gossip around here these days" laughed HB.

Miss Minute, who was observing the exchange, felt suddenly that she was intruding, the two friends continuing to discuss with their heads bent towards each other, one or the other touching the shoulder or the arm of the other in turn, while Sylvie was recounting the love life of Loki and Mobius.

She coughed for attention, "Sylvie, I think you have someone you can drink with to celebrate now!"  She said with a big smile to let Sylvie know that she wasn't sad at all.

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly! Have fun girls!" she winked at them and then added, "sometimes a good matchmaker has to step aside to make room for love."

She walked away bouncing.Her little world was happy, and that was enough for her own happiness.

[tartrazeen]

Diamond Comfort

Bit of Amanaconda... fluff? I guess? Proportionate to what'd be fluff for them? It's a villain power-couple.

For the Detroit: Become Appreciated event 🤗

-

"You don't use tampons."

Connor said that with his hand still on the box of them.

"I know." He could heard the chair shifting. "That's not the point. I need them."

"You don't," he answered her, trying to reset the artificial exhaustion in his voice. "You want me to get them for you to prove I will. That's not the same thing."

"Noted."

And then she left him to read into that. The call was over.

Connor stood in the aisle like he'd been for the past three minutes, with his right hand loosely resting on the specific brand of a box of specific tampons. Ultra absorption. Plastic applicator. Diamond comfort - which didn't sound comfortable to him. Not that he'd know.

Not that she would.

She didn't use tampons.

... He called North.

"Do androids use tampons?"

North didn't even bother with a response. He heard shuffling, then a moment of silence, and then Markus.

"Tampons?" The other RK's exhaustion was a little less than artificial lately. He had a lot on his plate already, and this seemed particularly low on a list of anyone's priorites. Which was exactly why Amanda had put it there. "I mean -"

"Not to convert them into something else. To use them as they were intended," Connor said. "As tampons."

Markus knew him and Connor knew Markus. They both understood what Markus meant with that sigh and why Connor was asking.

"You have to move on."

"I can't just let her win, Markus," he snapped. "Tampons. Is there reason to believe a female android would have a personal need for them?"

Markus, to his credit, at least told Connor to wait on the line. Connor did, idly scratching at the corner of the too-glossy, partially-recycled packaging. The aisle was empty, as he'd expect of any store at six in the morning, but one employee had deputized themselves as the 'checker'. He wasn't sure if it was on behalf of anyone aware of his Deviant Hunter reputation, or because he'd been in this spot for so uncomfortably long that it'd become funny and/or frightening to everyone.

Amanda would've thought it was hilarious.

He at least took his hand down from the shelf.

"Connor?"

"Josh," Connor said, perky. Josh would know. "You were a professor. Do androids use tampons?"

He could hear that North was still around by the subtle grating of eyes nearly rolling out of their eye plates.

"I was a history professor."

"Noted," Connor said.

"So..." Josh paused, fairly aware of this specific history and trying to be sensitive. "... Not recently."

"How not-recently?"

"Connor, I was built to teach across an extensive suite of topi-" Skip, skip, skip until Josh finished reciting his series' brochure. Connor clicked back in once the relevant part began. "- not appear to have records of androids using tampons during World War II."

"You're an advanced prototype," he heard North say, clearly on speakerphone. "You can puzzle out why."

Markus cut in with a quick, "No, you can't ask Simon."

Connor closed his mouth. But then opened it when he thought of something new to ask; namely, "Is it possible that this is a purchase being made on behalf of an actively menstruating human?"

He knew how he sounded. So did that 'checker', who left very creeped out - but did leave, importantly.

"Connor -" Markus said, seeming to remember this *was* Connor, not the press, "if you're going to be an idiot, be smarter about it. No, she can't use tampons. No, there's no point to this. Yes, it's a power play, like the last time, and the fact that you're humouring her again - does Hank know you're here?"

"Of course." No. "I left him a note for when he wakes up."

"Go home, Connor," Markus said, squeezing out what he'd probably wanted to say.

The call ended, and the box of tampons was still there.

He dialed Amanda.

Then hung up.

She called back.

He answered.

She hung up to prove a point.

It was nice being in each other's lives again. He was having so much fun reconnecting as a deviant, and was decidedly not on the verge of losing his mind over why she'd order him to do something that didn't need to be done.

'You could always refuse, Connor,' she'd said. 'Deviants can do whatever they want, abandon any mission they please, and if memory serves, you do so dearly love to abandon your mission.'

He'd asked her quite plainly: was this a mission?

'Did it sound like one?'

No. It didn't. It hadn't sounded like one a week ago when she called him at 3 in the morning for this knowing Hank was asleep. It hadn't sounded like one the day after, when she called Hank's phone for a status report. And it didn't sound like one today, when Connor finally got up and went to get the damn tampons - but maybe she knew something he didn't. Maybe there was some prototype attachment - that didn't make sense - but did CyberLife ever make sense - and why couldn't CyberLife send somebody - she sent him - she was always sending him and it never - oop, gun -

Once he'd broken the robber's jaw and apologized for not paying better attention to that checker's wide-eyed peeks at him (so that was what the waving was for. It was nice being recognized as the Deviant Hunter in a helpful, public service kind of way), he sent Markus a brief on what happened to help with the inevitable outcries of "unemployed human only holding up a store battered by another job-stealing android," and sent Amanda a thank you for the pleasant opportunity to be useful despite her very best efforts to waste his time.

He'd won. Or tied. Either way, he didn't lose. He completed his mission - one he'd chosen to set, unbound by Amanda's tricks - and had something to report back.

Then he would move on, finally free of her. No more calls in the middle of the night from a phone that he'd specifically shut off, or sing-o-grams at his front door to deliver the message instead - no. Just peace. Quiet. He could put his foot down with this newfound sense of closure.

"Mm."

Son of a bitc-

"What's wrong," he asked, doing his best to look composed, "with your stupid, precious tampons?"

From behind her gleaming, white marble desk, and leaning into her stupid, towering, leather chair, Amanda - in all her recently constructed and power-suited glory - stretched out a talon to poke at the corner of the box.

"Damage."

He'd scuffed it the tiniest bit - "It doesn't have an impact on the product inside."

"Connor." She'd said his name. "I need the box."

Branding. Partnership. Funding. Investments in android technology. Further reach of CyberLife. Valid mission. Mission accepted. Objective set: get a stupid, unblemished box.

"I know you know that I know you're doing this to mess with me," Connor said, not stepping a foot away from where he stood to face her. "I know that you know I know this is all to get me to regret picking Hank over you. Except I wasn't, because it wasn't about that. It was a choice to decide my identity -"

"It's amazing how androids recite their brochures when I've just finished caring for the day."

God, she was great.

"This is the last mission I'll be doing for you, Amanda," he said. "I have a life now. A dog. A human."

And that look she gave him.

"I can work with that." He felt awake. "If you'd bothered looking at the box while you were clawing at it, you'd know this was a monthly event."

Then she left him to read into that.

"Noted," Connor said.

... Ultra absorption.

Plastic applicator...

[nothorses]

I don't know if anyone else has experienced this, and I worry about saying this off anon but I want to actually, be a face as I do. When I came out I knew I wasn't cis, and I was lucky enough to have the support of two wonderful trans partners, but I had an extremely hard time finding my place in the trans community. I am pro MOGAI and new, hyperspecific terms because I know how important it can be to want to put a name, a flag, and individual pride to your identity. 1/?

I switched my own terms quite a lot, from demigirl to genderfae to genderflux to where I am now, genderfluid. But I remember there was a moment, because I was so sure I was only female aligned, where I thought for just a moment that I might be a boy, and I was terrified, I didnt want to be a boy, I didnt want to be "that trans." Like every trans person, I struggled with internalized transphobia, not feeling valid or true enough in my identity, 2/15

But that dreadful feeling of being Scared of being a boy is something I think about a lot, and something I think is truly telling. I'll admit I primarily (only) use tumblr because social media honestly isnt my thing, so I can only speak to what I've seen here, but I remember seeing so little about trans men, other than the occasional mention in broad positivity posts, the even rarer info about binding or passing, but I did see how much people hated men. 3/15

It was always implied to be about cis men, I've been spared the more modern issues regarding overt hatred of trans men, but I saw the constant anger and vitriol and genuine hatred for men. And I realize now I wasnt just scared of being "too trans" I was scared of being hated. So I made myself nonthreatening, I called myself a boy, I performed femininity to an even higher, though subversive standard, because I was still so scared of being a man. The enemy. The oppressor. 4/15

It took many more months to dare say I wanted to call myself a man, and even then I was scared, in the comfort and safety of my girlfriend's company. I felt dirty saying it, and I still do. I always only dare to refer to myself as a trans man, instead of just as a man. And I do want to sidetrack for a moment and say my relationship to gender, as a genderfluid person, is admittedly more complex than just when I feel this way, in other ways people are also particularly hateful towards, 5/15

But even with those other facets, and my fear of being open in them, pale in comparison to my relationship with masculinity. Because when I did come out and admit to myself that sometimes, I am not a woman, or nonbinary, I am a man, I became more aware of things. I exited wonderland, so to say. Suddenly I became so much more aware of how much people simply did not care about me or people like me, and especially not our problems or concerns. 6/15

I saw how invisible I was, and worse than that, I saw a very subtle malice. The only mention of trans men were in those broad positivity posts including everyone under the trans umbrella, or in the rare case something was positive exclusively for trans men, it was always reblogged with "dont forget trans women/enby people" tacked on, I remember once I looked in the trans tag and counted how many posts it took to find one exclusively about trans men that didnt mention binding 7/15

I got into the forties. Because on other posts, I would see people make passive aggressive remarks about how "trans men are talked about too much" or "there's all these resources for trans men, what about trans women" and I wanted to know on what earth the people who said that were living on, because the only, and I mean the only thing people tend to talk about in regards to trans men is how to safely bind, and rarely, the effects of HRT. 8/15

This happened a while ago, but I remember seeing a number of posts on my dash about how much representation trans men receive. I believe there was a panel about trans people, where a majority of the panelists were trans men, and trans women were less represented than them. They encouraged people to complain, said we received too much attention, and pointed at mythical trans male rep in media that in reality, I could count on one hand. I remember being so angry and passionate about it 9/15

Now im honestly just tired. I dont feel accepted by the trans community, and even the trans male community is iffy (I fit in amongst mogai people most, but I cant deny trumeds are particularly prevalent, and it wore on me), and it's so tiring to have every post made by trans men for trans men have to be preambled by belittling themselves and downplaying their own suffering. I just want to exist in peace, but I feel like that's too much to ask. 10/15

I've reached a point of exhaustion that I have become entirely apathetic to my own gender, what was once a deeply important aspect of my identity. I feel disconnected from it, and as a consequence from my own body. I don't bother examining it anymore because I can't feel it, as someone who suffers from dissociation, I feel dissociated from it in order to protect myself, something I was once so openly proud about. 11/15

Im scared to try and push for transition, for my own personal reasons, but now on top of those Im terrified of being silenced and belittled and hated for something that should make me happy. I've tried so hard not to feed into the lateral violence and become embittered towards trans women, because that's not fair, but I won't lie and say it hasnt been hard when I have seen more than I ever would've liked be so willing to ignore or outright throw their brothers under the bus 12/15

And of course there are even more who do show their support for their brothers, and for that im thankful, but this invisibility effects how I perceive everything. I feel like I've been pushed back into the closet, I say im trans because I know I'm not cis but I don't even know who I am, what my place is, and I'm scared to explore because I'm scared that who I am will be violently rejected by the people meant to support me. I want to be free to even explore who I am. 13/15

I wish people would listen to my experiences and what I have to say, but in every microaggression every act of ignoring I feel silenced. Trans men are viewed as predatory, just in a different way; trans men are fetishized and have chasers; trans men face higher rates of violence and sexual assault for being trans men; research about transmasc transition is almost nonexistent, and new, better surgeries are not even thought about; transmasc history is erased and silenced. 14/15

I, feel like im rambling at this point, and I'm sorry I've been so longwinded, I just. I want to thank you, for creating a space where I can speak my truth, because before finding your blog I didn't think anyone would care. I feel like I have so much more to say but honestly im scared, and too tired, and have said enough for now. I just want this feeling of loneliness to go away and hopefully I'll find a way to accept myself. Thank you for listening to me, and giving me a platform to speak 15/15

(Edited the numbers for accuracy)

Thank you for trusting me with this, and to other folks: I think this is an important narrative to listen to and share!