#it'd just help with so so many issues

[anghraine]

I've always found it a bit disappointing that Linda Hutcheon specifically excluded fanfic from her generally excellent discussion of adaptation in A Theory of Adaptation, because I do think fanfic is more akin to adaptation than probably any other thing it gets compared to.

Like, for me, what makes both really intriguing are questions like:

How does this story function as a story in its own right? How do you experience it if you don't know its source material? Does it work? Do you need certain kinds of background knowledge? Are people likely to experience it separately from its source or other versions of the source even if they are familiar with them?

How is this story engaging with the original or previous version it's working off of? What does it consider essential to keep from its source or canon? What is it willing to change? What assumptions govern both of those things?

How does this particular story take part in wider trends in storytelling that may or may not have anything to do with its source or canon? Where do fads or norms in broader storytelling contexts come into play? (For instance, film adaptations may resemble other contemporary films more than their source materials, fanfic goes through phases of popular structures, premises, and phrasings that cut through different fandoms. Or you can look at both in a broad cultural context beyond their immediate social context of fandom/film/whatever.)

I mean, I'm phrasing the questions in a kind of formal way, but I think the basic questions do factor into a lot of the more localized conversations that spring up around both adaptation and fanfic (whether specific adaptations/fics or general groupings of them). So much general discourse around fanfic revolves around the legitimacy of writing versions of pre-existing stories and it's like!! Adaptation is right there.

[heartfullofleeches]

Fish Sticks

Yan Mer Twins [Male and Nonbinary] + Cat Hybrid Fisherman Reader

[Suggestive Humor]

-

Slow day at the water.

It'd be a miracle if this old, rickety boat of yours could get you off this crummy island and onto drier, more inhabited land. Your gut tells you otherwise, but maybe you'll take that trader's offer the next time they pop up. You don't trust the glint in their smile when they propose you climb aboard, but their products haven't poisoned you or knocked you unconscious long enough for them to kidnapp you so there could be a chance they aren't as sketchy as they seem.

Ah, well. No point in dwelling on it now-

Stretching your legs, the boat rocks with unseen movement. Upon instinct, you immediately retract your extended limbs towards your chest - a giggle mingling with the bubbles and pops of stirring waves.

"Brother? Do you see what I see? My vision has been spotty since that nasty old crab took that precious eye of mine."

Another swarm of laughter joins the chorus, shrill and ear splitting compared to the gentle flow of the predecessor.

"I believe I do. A lost little kitten pawing for fish in our waters. How queer. How delightful-"

Webbed hands snake up the sides of your boat like unkempt veins. Your boat rattles from weight crashed into its walls as your unseen provokers hurl their weights over aged boards. Twin, sharp toothed smiles bare down at you. Intuition kicking into overdrive for a second time, you bat the closest to you in the face with your tail.

"Naughty!" The masculine figure clicks, not a drop of signature anger behind the hiss of his voice. "It's not often our little kitten wants to play. We truly are being spoiled today, my dearest sibling."

The more androgynous of the two yanks their brother by the long, silky threads of his hair. "Don't tease the poor thing more than we already have. Look at our sweetie- They're practically wasting away. Little angel must be starving."

Assa and Thal. You don't quite remember when they made their selves known, but you do know they are the most predominant of your suitors. With their impressive sizes and their custom of working as a team, they managed to keep prey and other predators smaller than them at bay.

"Ah, yes- That is true. As an apology, we will make sure you are well fed, but first - I have a question for you, Darling."

Assa sinks his jagged fangs into his lower lip, hardly fight back a laugh.

"Do you.... like fish sticks?"

It dribbles down your chin before you even realize- You're drooling. Strips of fresh, delicious fish wrapped in a blanket of crunchy goodness. With luck, you still have some flour from your last trade with that wandering seller. Eggs won't be an issue, and you might have some seasoning stashed away for an occasion just like this.

"Should I take that as a yes?" The menace purrs.

You nod your head frantically.

"Mmm. Good to now." Assa reels in closer, smile ever persistent. "I'm guessing that is a rare treat for you. Not often do you have all the components to prepare such a dish. I'm sure you love to savor the taste of them, hm?"

The breading is incredibly filling. If you ration them out, they could last you several nights. If you engorged yourself on them in one go, there would be few to save you from choking despite your many admirers- A fare you've nearly come to before.

You nod once more- ears flicking with the bob of your head.

Ever the more reasonable of them, Thal can't help but join in on the fun. As it stands, you appear to be the only one left out of the party.

"I bet you love the flavor fish sticks leaves on your tongue. Makes me wonder how many you can take in one go."

Counting in your head, you confidently hold up three fingers. You've fit more than that in your mouth, but three is a safe limit.

Thal exclaims in surprise, clapping their hands with glee. "My, My!- We have ourselves a champion. We will have to join you for dinner someday to see your skills in action. As for now- Brother?"

"Right, right!" Shaking off the shackles of temptation brought on by your innocent claims, Assa hurls a large sack onto your boat - his sibling holding it in place from the massive weight as the bag lands with a wet thump.

"Until next time, Dear. You will forever be in our hours. Before we leave, there is one more thing we need from you."

Its too late to run.

Pulled down by the collar of your beat up rain coat, wet, slimy lips dab against your cheeks from both sides. You feel a tongue scrap the traces of drool off your chin as the two finally depart - Assa blowing one more kiss your way before his sibling drags him under water.

A peck on the cheek was a decent trade for the amount of fish they left you. You wonder what their fixation on fish stick was- They seen to prefer their meals raw, but maybe you were wrong.

Sea dwellers are strange creatures.

[badsopen]

You Can run, But You Can't Hide...

Yandere!Mark Grayson x Superpowered!Reader

A/N : The reader in this has a teleportation power, not interdimensional teleportation but like regular teleportation, and they can phase through walls, obviously in this dimension Mark joined his dad and he doesn't want to kill you either

Hiding with Robot and Adam Eve's group wasn't ideal. Resources were scarce. People scared and paranoid whether they got to live another day or not; but going back and forth from one part of the planet to another wasn't sustainable either, especially since with how fast the both of them can travel; it'd only be a few minutes of resting time before you had to teleport again. So, after narrowly escaping Nolan's death grip in Honduras, you made the decision to move back up north even to settle down in the sewers to have more than thirty minutes to cool down.

But you had spotted one of the freedom fighters and followed him back to the underground base, he was clumsy and loud. It wouldn't be long until they found this place. Finding Adam and Robot telling them was the best you could do for them; they were surprised to say the least. After all a hand straight through your chest should've killed you; but with the combination of teleporting and phasing an escape was granted to you. However, not without a cost, your heart was weak, Nolan had grazed the front of your heart and thinned the muscle there. Normally that wouldn't be an issue, just pop on down to Cecil and he'd have you fixed up in no time. So, your life was on a schedule, it was a rough estimate…maybe a year? Two if you were able to properly rest without the teleporting at all.

Adam convinced you to say, sweetly said it was to treat your injuries, but Robot had made it clear it was for you to help out gathering resources and getting as many people as possible out of here in case this place was found. No matter, it was nice of them to give you a place to recover after Robot had fixed up your heart. The scar was a thin long line, from the top of your throat to the underside of your belly button. It was overkill you were sure of it, but even after waking up after the pain of being ripped open, you still were in better health, than teleporting in fear of being caught and killed.

You were inside of a subway car, practicing teleporting instantly from one side of the room to the other side, it was going to take a couple of days of practicing to build up to longer distances again. It was nicer not having a time frame of when you were going to die, or having hope for the future that wasn't under the Viltrum Empire.

It was short lived however..

There was rumbling coming from the roof of the underground train station, at first it was dismissible-just buildings crumbling to the ground, but after the screaming started to pick up and then people rushing by the car it was obvious. They had found this place, and they were going to kill everyone in this place.

Rushing out of the car, you saw that they had split themselves up, Nolan was fighting Robot and Adam Eve was fighting Mark. Omni Man had made quick work of Robot and the other people who were unlucky enough to behind him after he was rushed. Teleporting to Robot after Omni Man had delivered his last words to Robot, you had told him that you would 'take care of it and not to worry'. His voice was rasped and hard to make out with the screaming, but the message was delivered a simple Don't fail.

Looking around for the both of them wasn't hard, just follow the fear induced screams was more than enough to be pointed in the right direction.

Mark had his hand around Eve's neck, they were talking to each other. Her hands are on his wrist... and then a snap...he broke her neck. Omni man is up there now he's saying something, Mark is shaking his head not as he puts Eves' body down. They're still talking to each other.

Both of their heads snap in your direction, FUCK they saw you! Before you can think of a place to teleport to Nolan rushes you bursting the people in-between you both like bloody pimples. He lifts you in the air by your neck. Mark slowly floats his way down to you and his father.

"I wasn't expecting you to be here" Nolan grimaces slightly "especially with how keen you were to get away from the city."

His voice was monotone and short. It was hard to see where this conversation would go. You try and keep yourself levelheaded knowing that one wrong move will get you killed or captured by the of them.

"I can't stay away from home for to long."

A nervous smile came across your cracked lips, hurting but not bleeding. The grip Omni Man had on your throat was tight, keeping you suspended in the air by your throat was starting to expose the scar. A flush of air meant that Invincible had come up to interrogate you with Omni Man.

Marks soft voice rang through the silence of his and his fathers animalistic brutality just minutes ago.

"Why are you here?"

His tone had remained soft and understanding like he was talking to a child; it made would always make you wonder if Mark was choosing to do these horrible things, or he was going along with his father trying save thousands from his father.

Nolans eyes started to wonder down the slightly red line and a deep frown began to set on his mustache.

"Ah, Mark, that's a really st-"

Nolans grip had tightened suddenly as he dropped lower to the ground making sure your feet could barely scrape the rubble ridden concrete. A stern look strikes his face as he turns to Mark. A short look is shared between them before turning back to you, their eyes drift down your face and towards your pulsing scar. Nolan's thumb presses in deep enough to make Mark suck in air harshly and Nolan giving a somewhat disappointed grumble from some deep crevasse of feeling that you quite aren't sure is there.

A soft sigh came from Mark as a frown sets deep on his skin.

"What happened to you? What's with the scar? Is because of what happened in Honduras? You know if you'd just stayed still nothing would've happened. You pushed dad's buttons..., I'm not saying you deserved that, but still."

A shrug passed through him, he moved closer, Nolan's grip was starting to get harsher. Mark puts his hand on top of your head, he doesn't take heed of it. He begins to it upward slowly as you struggled to look up, a chuckle came from Nolan.

"He won't kill you, just make sure you won't be able to see straight. I've seen him practice works well enough."

You weren't able to at least get a sarcastic rebuttal out before his hand came down on, your head. It was an odd experience a slight pain, a sharp realization of being able to see in opposite directions, burning in of bile, and then not having sight in front of yourself.

[surielstea]

Desperate Males

1k celebration request!

Pairing: Poly!Batboys x Fem!Reader

Summary: Morrigan convinces Reader to indulge in her fantasies with the three winged Illyrians, the ones that the reader resents for the way they treat her home court, the hewn city.

Warnings: smut | minors dni | 18+ only | p in v | riding | mating press | multi-orgasm | dirty talk | foursome (f, m, m, m) | and probably a lot others

A. Note: Thank you my lovely Lex (@lexluvswriting) for helping me finish this because I was STRUGGLING but I’m happy with how it turned out in the end :)

8.1k words .. half of it’s smut, whoops.

Rita's was packed full of lusting fae and grinding figures, every single body in the pleasure hall was glistening with sweat beneath the dim lighting as they continued to rut against each other.

I was sat in the corner of the building, at a small booth I was sharing with Morrigan, gossiping about our relationship issues over a few too many glasses of wine.

Mor was one of the only people I could tolerate ever since Rhys dragged me out of the Court of Nightmares and to Velaris. I hadn't had much of a choice, the moment he found out I was his mate, he felt some form of entitlement to me, he was fortunate he wasn't ripping me away from anything special, less fortunate when he realized I held the mating bond with his two best friends as well. All three of them, sanctioned to me, a female who had no intention of ever accepting any of their bonds.

Mor was from the hewn city as well, born and raised in that wretched court. It made it easier to talk to her, she understood what I meant when I said it felt like I was living a lie, too good to be true and she knew what I meant when I tried to explain my fear of the ever-imposing threat that it'd be ripped out right from under me at any moment. No one could truly understand the way she could, and though my resentment towards the inner circle was much stronger than hers, she made an effort to relate and be there for me.

"So, how are the boys?" Mor grins suggestively before taking a sip from her drink. I groan, slumping into my seat as I think about the three very annoying males she was referring to.

"Desperate," I grumble and she chuckles into her glass.

"How so?" She smiles, leaning onto her hand propped up by her elbow. "Give me some examples," She urges.

I shake my head with an eye roll, saying, "I don't have any." She gives me an undefeated look, a raise of her brows telling me she was waiting for me to go on. "The stories are too long," I argue but she still remains unwavering.

"Good thing we've got time," She leans back in her seat, getting comfortable as if she was prepared to stay in the pleasure hall with me all night. "Start with Rhys."

Rhysand had a tendency of showing up to the house of wind unannounced, quite a lot. So much so that the male has probably been in this house more than his own. To be fair, he was the one paying for it so I suppose this was just as much his house as any of his other residences, but ever since I started living here his visits began to grow personal. I've only been residing in Velaris for a few months now but he still made it his mission to see me at least every other day. Each time he welcomed himself into the large house he'd have some sort of gift with him, tonight was no exception.

I didn't startle when I heard the front door open, and I barely even flinched when his baritone voice crooned from the direction of the couch as I entered the sitting room. He had his long legs stretched across the couch, his head tilted back against the armrest, and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Evening, darling," He drawls and I look at him with an indifferent expression.

"It's the middle of the night," I grumble, going into the kitchen and grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

"I knew you were awake," He intoned and I rolled my eyes, filling my glass up with cold water.

"I'm about to go to bed," I claim, approaching the sitting room to look at him. He angles his head to meet my gaze, a sloppy smirk on his lips.

"Can I join?" He bats his eyelashes dramatically and I debate splashing my freshly poured water into his face. I decide not to, instead silently turning on my heel and retreating down the hallway. He shuffles off the couch and follows right behind me but I pay him no mind. I push open my bedroom door, leaving it open for his entry, because even if he agitated me it'd be a lie to say I disliked his attention. I was a simple female, and making him chase me like this so successfully was amusing, if not a little cruel.

"I have a gift for you," He informs in a sing-song tune.

"When do you not?" I say, placing my water down onto my nightstand and crawling into my large bed, Rhys had insisted on the size when we went furniture shopping so it could fit his wings, I had ignored his foolish assumption that he would ever sleep in my bed, but let him buy me the most expensive mattress anyway.

He reaches into a pocket dimension and removes a flat, rectangular, velvet box, one made for holding tiaras.

"I don't want your money Rhys," I sigh, watching as he situated himself on my bed, his long legs on either side of my hips, encasing me as I practically sit in his lap. "It's not money," He puts a hand up, waving me off. "I don't want your jewels or crowns either," I huff as he places the velvet box directly in front of me.

"It's not— just open it, will you?" His eyes plead with me more than his words. I stifle a curse and pick the ornate box up. It was heavier than I had been expecting, my brows crease as I slowly tilt the lid open, revealing what was inside. It wasn't money or gems, or even a fancy tiara, but a sleek dagger.

The hilt was solid obsidian, embellished with gold detailing, so well crafted it almost felt wrong to be in my hands. Deep red rubies adorned the top of the hilt in a teardrop shape, pointing up to the blade that's been polished to an impossibly sharp edge, Illyrian steel based upon the rich color of the metal. It was utterly elegant, in such a lethally arresting way.

I take the dagger from its confining box, my touch is delicate as I admire it from all angles, the blade moves so fluidly like the steel morphed into liquid when moving through the air. "You like it?" Rhys' voice breaks me from my trance and I grip the hilt a little tighter, looking up at him with an innocent gaze.

"It's unlike anything I've seen before," I murmur, still entranced by its beauty and the way it moved. He smiled at that, proud of himself for finding a way to impress me.

"It's an heirloom," He confesses and my expression drops, looking up at him.

"I can't take this," I immediately say, attempting to shove the dagger back into his hands.

"Sure you can," He sighs. "I have no use for it, and I heard you have a collection of pretty blades," He says, leaning back on his palms and ignoring the way I was haphazardly thrusting the dagger toward him.

"No, Rhys," I declare and his ears perk at the use of his nickname, he's been only Rhysand specifically for the last few months. "I can't, you're only doing all of this because we're supposed to be mates," I say. "I'm not worthy of your gifts, you're just blinded by the effects of the bond,” I say but my explanation must’ve failed to reach his ears because his smile simply remains.

"Darling, I'm a powerful male, if I didn't want the mating bond to affect me I wouldn't let it," He says cockily and I struggle to keep my eyes from rolling at his pride. "I'm doing this, because I want to, it's that simple," He places his large hands on mine, closing my fingers around the dagger. "But, if you don't want it then—" He starts and I shake my head hurriedly. "No, no I do want it," I grip his hands tighter and his brows raise a fraction. "Perfect," His smile returns, but his hands don't let go of mine and maybe for a moment I let myself indulge in his comforting touch.

"And you're telling me the two of you didn't fuck after that?" Mor questioned, an appalled look on her face as I ended my story about the High Lord.

"He gave me a blade, it wasn't exactly getting me hot and bothered," I scoff and she smirks.

"He could've given you another blade," She murmured under her breath but it wasn't quiet enough for me to miss. "Mor!" I look at her with wide eyes but she only snickers.

"Okay, I'm not totally convinced you dislike him, but tell me about Cass," She urges and I deadpan.

"Are you going to make sex jokes again?" I raise an assuming brow.

"No promises," She croons. "Now tell me about him."

Cassian loved to strut around half-naked. His shirt was often absent when I was around. It was an obvious ploy to swoop me off my feet, to get me drooling over his more than impressive abdomen and his arms that could crush my head in. And perhaps I did drool over him in the solitude of my bedroom, but I'd never let him know that.

I was sitting at the kitchen table enjoying my dinner when I nearly choked on my bite of food as Cassian strolled in, clad in nothing but pants and glistening in sweat from training. His hair was tied up in a messy bun that sat at the back of his head, a sword half the size of me slung over his shoulder in a sheath. I swallow my food with effort, my eyes unable to avert from every expanse of skin starting below his neck.

"Hey sweetheart," He says, kicking the front door shut. I snapped my gaze to his but the smirk on his face made it evident that he caught me staring. "Did you make dinner?" He asked, propping his sword up against the side of the counter. I didn’t make dinner, he knew that, because if I had I would be retroactively accepting the mating bond, he just wanted to put the idea in my head.

"Az did," I say through bites, the shadow singer beside me, silently reading a book, successfully not paying Cassian any mind unlike me.

"Is it any good or do you miss my cooking?" He asks with an amused smile, earning him a glare from the spymaster.

"It's delicious," I say, taking another large bite. I hadn't meant to indirectly compliment Azriel but he slightly smiled at my insult on Cassian, then returning to his reading.

The other male grumbled beneath his breath like a toddler throwing a fit as he made himself a plate that seemed more like a feast fit for a starving man, walking to the table and sitting down directly in front of me.

"You're not going to change?" I ask and he raises a brow and looks down at himself.

"Do you, want me to?" He said, slightly confused.

"Well, what if I started showing up to dinner shirtless?" I cross my arms with a scowl, Cassian's eyes light with amusement and Azriel begins to choke on his own air, muffling his coughs as he stuffed his face into his arms.

"I don't think we'd mind," Cassian winked at me and I looked down at my plate, silently cursing myself for walking right into that one.

"I just think it's bad table manners, is all," I murmur, leaning onto my hand as I roll my food over with my fork, playing with it aimlessly.

"If it has that much of an effect on you, I'll go change," He begins to stand and I whip my gaze up, staring at him with creased brows, not wanting him to think I was entirely bothered by it.

"It doesn't have an effect on me," I blurt out and a smirk curves his lips.

"Then I won't change," He sits back down.

"Fine," I say.

"Fine," He agrees.

Dinner went on a regularity from there, that was until I was clearly done with my food and I hadn't retreated to my room like usual, instead, I was far too distracted analyzing all the scars on Cassian's tanned skin, the ones that had stories behind them that I'd most likely never hear, the ones I would've never seen if he hadn't come home without a shirt.

His chest was on full display, rippling in muscle, a tight abdomen that would have me lying if I said my mouth wasn't watering when I stared at it for a moment too long. And gods, his arms made my thoughts wander beyond just arousal, it was more than a craving. My hands were practically shaking in my lap and I was just grateful they were beneath the table.

My eyes snag on a particular scar cutting across his ribs and up to his sternum, it must've been a mess of blood and gore when he got it, only for it to heal over as a simple line slightly darker than his skin tone, beautiful.

"I got it in a duel," Cassian said and I whipped my head up, locking eyes with him.

"What?" I say, my back ramrod straight, visibly embarrassed by the fact that I was just caught for staring so unabashedly.

"My scar," He places a hand over it, tracing two fingers down the raised skin with a practiced, rehearsed movement like he's down it thousands of times before. "It was from an angry husband, his wife neglected to mention she was married and he took some offense towards our, familiarity." He explained. "Insisted on a duel," He shrugged, and I blinked in slight shock.

"You, lost a duel?" I said like the idea was obscene. "Aren't you considered one of the best swordsmen on the continent?" I raised a brow and he shrugged.

"Seemed like the right thing to do," He flashed a charming smile that's guaranteed to have dropped panties before. "You're ridiculous," I said, standing up and grabbing my plate, walking into the kitchen to place my dishes in the sink. The Illyrian followed after me with his own plate, reaching over me and placing it in the basin beside mine.

I whirl around, which turned out to be admittedly a mistake. His bare chest was so close to my face that it was an effort to crane my neck up, keeping eye contact and not letting myself crumble beneath his gaze. "What do you think?" He asks and my eyes regrettably flick down to the scar, and I can't help myself as I reach forward, my fingers brushing over the rough line of skin and I swear for a moment both of us stop breathing. I tentatively pull my hand away, looking up at him with a smirk.

"I think you have enough testosterone to fuel an army," I hum, patting his chest before pushing past him and removing myself from the kitchen, attempting to ignore the way my hand remembered the feel of his skin against it.

Cassian turned to Azriel as soon as I was out of earshot. "That's a good thing, right?" The male mutters with a line between his brows. Azriel's eyes flick up from his novel to look at his brother. "I don't think so, no." He shakes his head, then returns to his page while Cassian's shoulders slump in defeat and he retreats to his room to find a shirt.

"You're telling me, you had your hand on Cassian, the male pushing seven feet, skin to skin and you didn't immediately surrender?" Morrigan says, her brows creased as she grows increasingly worried about my well-being. "Are you sick or something?" She reaches over the table, pressing a hand to my forehead and I scoff, the annoyed sound turning into a laugh as I push her hand away.

"I'm not sick," I claim. "Just a female who has no interest in large, muscular, beautiful, tan males," I grumble, taking a sip from my glass, my voice trailing off as I go on about how truly magnificent they are.

"Right," She settles back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest, unconvinced. "So," She smirks. "I know you've been saving the best for last," She leans forward, her grin uncontrollable as she rests her elbows on the table while she insists, "Tell me about Azriel."

My experience in Velaris so far was enjoyable— despite the three winged males, the people were kind here, the men didn't stare, the children weren't sickly, and the women held more value than the curvature of their bodies. It was nice here, like some false paradise.

A small part of me would forever hate Rhys and all the others living in his secret city for blindly living their perfect lives, while innocent people dreaded waking up every morning— because the best time they spent was unconscious, in their horrid city just below the mountain, only a short trip away. Such a drastic shift of atmosphere.

Sometimes when my guilt of being happy began to grow too unbearable I found myself in the library. The first and only place so far I've felt entirely safe. It was quiet here, enough to clear my thoughts, but not enough for unwanted ones to creep in. Priestesses bustled around the building with carts and stacks of books, keeping the tenor lively and welcoming.

So it was a shock when my safe space was suddenly and harshly ripped away from me when I saw a familiar winged Illyrian sitting in the spot I always chose. It wasn't mine by any means, but the bastard must've known this was the alcove I selected every time I came here, there was no way he just so happened to favor this spot as well with the amount of floors alone this place had.

"Move," I was particularly upset this morning due to lack of sleep from incessant nightmares. He only smirks, his eyes slow as they left the book he was so engrossed with, and dragged up to my features. Hazel pools flickering with amusement as he meets my gaze.

"Oh? Is this your spot?" He tilts his head mockingly and I grip my book harder.

I disliked Rhys for how he acts in the Hewn City, and Cassian for his overtly boisterous and arrogant behavior, but Azriel— no one quite got under my skin like Azriel. I couldn't exactly pin down why he made me so frustrated, perhaps it was because he would be the easiest to like, or maybe it was because I always thought he was the prettiest whenever they'd make their annual appearance in my home court, something about that particular fact made me hot with both rage and excitation.

"Well, I haven't exactly seen you sitting here before," I argue, clutching my book to my chest with furrowed brows.

"Fair point," He hums while scooting over and offering me a few more inches of space. It wasn't exactly the largest amount of seating area but he was kind enough to move, and I was far too tired to continue arguing. So I settled in beside him.

The spot I favored over all the others was nestled in a carved-out alcove, hidden from any peering eyes, located between shelves full of various hardback spines. The only viewpoint was from the balcony upstairs, or straight ahead. It felt safe, and I've yet to find any other place I liked as much as this one, so I was open to sharing as long as he kept to his book and I kept to mine, silently.

But the olive green couch wasn't big enough for the both of us and I quietly cursed his insanely large wings for taking up the entire area, one of the dark limbs spread out behind me while the other hung off the edge of the couch, the one behind my back however forced me closer to him, my side pressed against his, and my legs that I had pressed to my chest leaning onto his lap, so much so that I might as well have just been sitting in it, we must've looked ridiculous.

Nevertheless, he opened his book back up and offered me the peaceful quiet I craved. I did the same, cracking my book and finding the page I was on.

It was nice for a moment, the awkward silence morphing into something more comfortable as it grew familiar between us. I had even gotten a few chapters in before I reached a much more, graphic, chapter. The descriptions were downright erotic, and suddenly everything the male did stopped mattering because I was now entirely consumed by the book I had randomly picked off the shelves this morning.

"What are you reading?" He was so very close to my ear that I felt his breath against it, and I snapped my book shut, the sound echoing off the shelves of the quiet library.

"None of your business," I retort, whipping my head to him with stern brows, he narrows his at me suspiciously. "What about you?" I jerk my head towards his closed book like it's been neglected for more than just a few seconds. "Is it a guide on how to kill your brothers? Because I might be interested in reading that one next," I say with a smirk and he mirrors it.

"I wish, Cass practically kicked me out this morning with his atrocious singing while he made himself lunch," He grumbled and my lip quivered upward, my amusement unmanageable at the scene he put in my head, and I cursed myself because, of course, he notices.

"Oh, you think I'm funny?" He says and he was so damned close that one inch closer would result in noses brushing.

"Shh." I press my pointer finger to his soft lips. "No talking in the library." I smirk at him teasingly, removing my touch from his sensuous lips, dragging the bottom one down only for it to spring back up when I let go in an oddly satisfying way.

"We don't have to talk," He suggests, catching my hand before it can fall to my lap. My cheeks grow hot as he interlaces our fingers, palms pressing together, soft skin against scars. He notices my blush and moves that lethal inch closer, the tip of his nose ghosting against mine. "You want to kiss me so badly," He continues his taunts and I scowl, but I don't dare move away.

"Shut up," I bite back.

"Are you going to make me?" He arches a perfect brow and I grit my teeth, deciding I won't play his stupid games. I detangle our hands and turn away from him, but I can still feel his eyes on me.

"You're just as bad as your brothers," I claim, opening my book again.

"You wound me," He gasps in faux pain and I roll my eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be the quiet one?" I huff, attempting to find the page I was on.

"Just because they're loud doesn't mean I don't speak too," He states, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"Whatever," I grumble, and his wing curls around me a little tighter. He stayed silent for a moment, just a moment of relieving peace, but it was over as soon as it began and I was grateful for the second, but the opposite of gratitude came over me when he spoke again.

"This is filthy, love," He runs his finger down the edge of my book and I close the novel again, this time quietly so it doesn't reverberate throughout the library again.

"I'm not shaming you," His voice is deep and seductive as he speaks, so very close to my ear I swear with every word I could feel it vibrate down my spine. "Just wanted to let you know I'm open to recreating it," He suggested and I sighed, deciding I'd had enough of his banter, and stood up, clutching my book to my chest as I looked back to him.

"You're relentless," I say and he shrugs with a coy smile.

"No goodbye kiss?" He hums and I only shake my head and storm out of the alcove, leaving the library more frustrated than I was when I arrived.

"And?" Mor gestures her hands, demanding more.

"That was it," I shrug.

"You didn't go back and make out with him?" She creased her brows like I was insane.

"No, because I don't need a male to enjoy my life," I say. "You are one to understand that," I suggest with my brows raising and she simply rolls her eyes with dissatisfaction.

"Yeah, but— that doesn't mean you should strip yourself the pleasure of having all three of them," She wiggles her brows and my cheeks grow hot. "Or you could just pick one and miss out with the rest," She adds, before taking a sip from her glass, the liquid inside nearly gone.

I thought it might've been impossible to just pick one. They all had their own personalities and unique qualities, and what if I somehow chose wrong? What if my decision came between the three of them? Then again why can't I just have all three of them? They're all so kind to me, and they're funny, and so very gorgeous, and— "Oh gods, I'm in love," I gasp quietly, my hand cupping over my mouth at the devastating recognition.

Morrigan only nods with a wide grin, like she's been waiting for me to realize since we sat down in this booth. "What do I do?" Suddenly I don't know how to think, or how to act.

"Put them out of their misery and feed those poor bastards," She proposed and I groaned with defiance.

“I’ve been working so hard to ignore their pathetic acts for the last five months, I can’t just give in now.” I practically melt onto the table, my head falling into my arms dramatically.

“Hey, listen to me,” She grabs me by the face, smushing my cheeks as she emphasizes every word. “Do you want them to fuck you senseless?” She asks and I sigh, but inevitably nod with a pitying frown. “Then go." She releases my face and shoos me with her hands and I smile as I stand up. “You’re the best Morrigan,” I claim and she winks at me. “I know,” She shrugs and I blow her a kiss before winnowing to where the tether between the three men felt the strongest.

Which landed me in a cabin I'd never been in before, the sitting room warmed by the crackling fire in the hearth.

Whatever conversation the three males were having halted when I showed up. They all looked at me with analyzing eyes, raking up and down my figure, still in my party dress from Rita's, the material tight, hugging every curve and dip of my body and ending high on my thighs, showing off the entirety of my legs and an obscene amount of cleavage, which the males definitely didn't miss.

Cassian and Rhys were sat on a sofa in front of the fire, Azriel was situated in a large leather chair that he claimed like some sort of king, distanced from the fire I notice. All three of them had short crystal glasses, a matching decanter sat on the coffee table halfway filled with an amber liquid.

"Hey, sweetheart," Cassian was the first to speak. "What brings you here?" He hums and I clench my jaw. What was I doing here? Silently I whirl on my heel and walk towards the kitchen, finding a bowl of fruit situated on the counter. I grabbed an orange from the variety, taking my time to peel the rind off, the three of them staring at me curiously as I approached them again, splitting the pieces of the fruit into thirds, handing each of them a slice without a single word.

"Are oranges supposed to pair well with whiskey?" Rhys held the fruit up, staring at it confused as if the High Lord truly didn't understand what was going on. He wasn't seriously going to make me say it, was he?

"Eat," I demand but they only stare at me with blank eyes and I sigh, my shoulders sagging. "Whoever's orange is gone first I'll make out with," I say and within the blink of an eye all three of their slices of fruit were gone, but I caught Azriel swallowing first so I approach him and take the liberty of sliding over his lap.

He wastes no time before putting his hands on me and pulling me into him, his lips immediately finding mine.

I smile at the citrusy taste still ghosting his tongue as he pushes it into my mouth, tasting every inch he can find like a starved animal, craving more. My hand goes into his hair while his scarred ones slowly slip beneath my dress, gripping me tightly and pinning me down onto his hips, allowing me to feel just how hard he was beneath me.

Desperate, indeed.

"Az," I whine softly and he groans at the sound, his kisses turning sloppy as he loses himself entirely in the taste of me.

"Alright," Cassian's voice calls, familiar, large hands coming to my waist and pulling me off of Azriel's lap with ease, throwing me over a broad shoulder.

"Is this what it's going to be like mated to you three?" I say, still upside down as Cassian's hands roam the backs of my thighs, then higher. "Passed around between you three like some doll?" I say, secretly not minding the idea.

"If you don't want to be passed around," He tosses me down onto a large bed. "We can always share at once," He hums and I had an unshakable feeling that I would be split in half if I took all of them for the first time, at once.

"No, I like being passed around," I say with bright red cheeks and he smirks, guiding me up onto the bed, my head meeting the pillows.

"Then who do you want first?" He hums, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Rhys," I look to the high lord. "I want Rhys," I say and the violet-eyed male raised a brow, his smirk uncontrollable as he approached the bedside. Cassian moved off of me and Rhys took his place over me, his lips finding mine with ease.

He kisses softly at first but that only last so long before he's leaving my mouth and beginning to nip and suck on my neck, licking over it to soothe the marks. I writhe beneath him, my hands in his dark hair as I ache for more. I reach for his pants, unbuckling his belt with one hand before moving to the ties confining his hardened bulge.

"No darling, you're going to ride me," He says breathily into my neck and my hand halts on his pants. He smirked at my reaction and flipped us over so I was on top. He unzips the back of my dress with ease, helps me slip it off with gentle hands as I straddle over his hips, now completely bare for all three of them, but it was only Rhys' eyes I was focused on at the moment.

I rut my hips down over the imprint in his pants, releasing a soft sigh as the action puts friction on my clit. He smiled up at me and how needy I was for him already.

He takes his pants the rest of the way off, his boxers along with it and I can't help but smile at the sight of him, his tip pulsing and red, and the length of him was intimidating enough on its own. "You think you're ready for me?" He asks, ripping my panties off with an ease I marveled at, but before I could reply to his question he swiped his fingers through my folds and my breath hitched at the stimulation, my arousal soaking his fingers, he pulls them back for me to see and I flush in embarrassment at how wet I already was.

"Oh, darling I've barely touched you," he smirks and I look away from his eyes, attempting to get my blush under control. "There's no need to be shy," He guides my face back to look at him. "Be good and take all of me, yeah?" He arches a dark brow and I nod, placing my hands on his chest as I rise on my knees while he helps align himself with my entrance.

He looks at me pointedly and I nod, then sink myself down onto him, ever so slowly.

"That's it," He grunts out as my cunt swallows around the head of his cock. He throws his head back into the pillows as I sink deeper, reaching the halfway point and clenching around him hard.

My nails scratched down his chest as the unfamiliar stretched, his eyes gleaming with pure lust until eventually my hips pressed against his and I let out a sinful moan as he brushed up against that bundle of nerves deep inside of me, kissing it softly.

"Rhys," I sigh, my nails digging into his abdomen as my cunt twitched around him. His hands come to my hips, slowly guiding me back and forth, manually making me grind on him.

"Fuck, taking me so well," He grits between his teeth, already restraining himself.

My back involuntarily arches as he kisses up against that sensitive spot again, moans tumbling from my lips as I begin to bounce myself up and down on his cock. He smiles hazily, his hands leaving my waist in favor of cupping my breasts, rubbing his calloused thumbs over my peaked nipples. My breath hitched at the sensation, clenching around him tighter as he groped them, tweaking them between his fingers, making my release barrel closer.

"So good for me, getting yourself off on my cock," He admires and I nod, a whimper slipping from my lips as I pull myself out to his tip then let gravity slam me back down onto him, the head of his length pounding into my sacred spot, making me release a lewd moan, screaming out his name as I clamp around the width of him, a ring of white forming around the base of his cock.

"Feels so, so good darling," He says breathlessly. "Such a good girl," He murmurs and I throw my head back at the praise.

"I'm close— Rhys, I can't," I pant out, unable to catch my breath with the way he relentlessly pounded into my cunt. "Me too, fuck— keep doing that," He grunted. "Keep squeezing me so tight, just like that," He instructs and I nod, my pussy taking all of him as he twitches deep inside of me, signaling that he was close.

I go faster, my thighs burning with the movement but I ignore the pain, delighting in the pleasure he was giving me. He pounds into me relentlessly, both of us teetering along that edge, and the moment his hands find my nipples again I'm left helpless, and suddenly I rise to my climax, coming to a crescendo as I meet my peak of pleasure.

I gasp as his warm cum seeps into my cunt, spurting out of his cock with one last clench of my core and he released a thick white liquid. "Gods, such a good girl," He sighs out, his large hands groping my breasts one last time before they dip down to my waist, and help guide me off of his length, laying me back into the bed.

"Cass," I murmured, keeping my legs together in order to hold Rhys' release inside of me. "Cassian, I want you next," I pant out, still not entirely over the high that Rhys left me with but I already wanted more, and lucky for me the male was there quickly, switching with Rhys as he hovers over me, his pants already absent and his cock leaking a milky substance, the sight making my mouth water. He was noticeably wider than Rhys, and I debated whether or not he'd tear me in two.

"Flip around, wanna feel your pretty pussy from behind," He hums and I do as he says, turning onto my stomach and hiking up onto my knees. His calloused hands find my hips, helping me guide them up higher, my back forming a perfect crescent as I keep my face in the pillows and maximize my arch.

"You ready for more sweetheart?" He asks and I nod, tears welling in my eyes as his heavy cock slaps against my soaking folds, my arousal dripping onto him as Rhys' release cascaded down my thighs. He lathers himself in my liquids, his pre-cum adding to the mixture.

"Want you, Cass," I murmur. "Don't hold back," I add and I can practically feel the way he was smirking. His tip prodding against my pulsing entrance.

"Tell me if it's too much alright?" He kisses my shoulder softly, his rough voice gentle as it meets my ear. I nod, but before any more words are spoken he grips my hips tighter and thrusts inside of me.

I gasp, breath being lost on me as I fist the sheets beneath me. "Cass," I cry out, the width of him stretching against my walls, molding me to him.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," He sighs out and I gripe, writhing beneath him as he pushes deeper and deeper, forcing my legs wider so he could enter more comfortably.

My breathing is labored as his hips finally snap against my ass. He groans at the feeling of his cock entirely sheathed inside of my cunt, stretching me beyond capacity like a sleeve made just for him.

"Please, Cass," I whine and he leans over me, my back bowing against his chest, his lips coming beside my ear.

"We only just started, sweetheart," He taunted, nipping at my shoulder.

Ever so slowly he pulls out, removing himself only about halfway before slamming back into me with an outmatched force. I screamed at the switch of pace, his thrusts coming quickly, pushing me up the bed.

I reached forward, gripping the headboard to stop my body from unconsciously running away from him. He drove his hips forward harshly, his balls slapping against my folds. His hands left my hips in favor of my ass, handling me roughly as I arched beneath him, feeling his width deeper the lower into the pillows I went.

"Good girl.” He throws his head back, sweat glistening as it rolls down his chest, into the groves of his abdomen. I mewl loudly, incapable of forming words as he fucks me beyond sentences.

"Such pretty noises you're making for me," He hums, his lips ghosting against the shell of my ear. "Am I making you feel good?" He whispers and I swallow thickly, tears brimming my eyes as I nod helplessly, defenseless under him like this. He smirks at my unsolicited actions as I grip around his shaft tighter, delighting in how good it feels as he stretches me.

His hands returned to the curve of my ass, gripping the plush skin in his large hands, loving the way it left red imprints, marking me as his, as theirs.

"Pull my hair," I murmur.

"What was that, pretty girl?" He leans over me and I flush shyly, I knew he heard me the first time.

"Pull my hair," I repeat and he smiles.

"Yeah? You want that?" He wraps his hand around my locks, gripping the back of my skull before tugging on it and I moan, my release catching up to me as he manhandles me, just how I wanted. His grip tightens as I squeeze around his cock, his heavy balls continuing to clap against my neglected folds. "That's it, baby, just like that," He assures, watching as I lose myself in the heat, fire blooming over my skin as my release barrels closer and closer.

"Please," Tears slip down my cheeks. "Let me cum, I’m close," I mewl, gripping the headboard tighter, my nails denting the wood.

"Already?" He teased and I nod, pushing myself back onto his cock and he grunts, twitching inside of me and brushing against my elastic walls. "Go ahead, make a mess sweetheart," He allows and I immediately follow his order, my orgasm ripping through me for the second time tonight, his following soon after, shooting his load of cum into me, filling my every crevice and mixing with Rhysand's inside of me.

I grip at the sheets as he pumps into me one last time and I clamp down on him, milking his cock as he slowly removes himself from me and collapses down onto the bed beside me.

My legs ache as I sink back down into the mattress, my intense high slowly fading away as I flip over onto my back.

I jolt as a cold sensation runs up my thighs, skidding across my waist and meeting my breasts, shadows swirling around the peaks of my nipples, slowly tightening and beginning to tweak the hardened buds.

"Az," I sigh, shaking my head. "I can't," I murmur, far too overstimulated to even think about taking another round.

"You can." He comes between my legs, shadows forming at my thighs and prying them open, forcing them to stay even when I try to close them. I can make out the way Cassian's cum seeps out of my cunt and down my ass, the feeling making my mouth water for Azriel's cum too, wanted all of their release to mix in my womb.

"There's so many things I've wanted to do to you," He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my collarbone. "Things I've imagined doing to you," He confesses, beginning to place soft pecks up the side of my neck, to my jaw. "Which one of us do you think of when you touch yourself?" He asks, his lips ghosting over mine and my brows bunch because it'd be a lie if I said I ever thought about just one of them.

"I asked you a question," He purrs, his hands coming to my wrists, gathering them up above my head. "Be a good girl and answer it for me." The tip of his nose runs along the side of my neck before his lips make contact with the side of my throat, teeth grazing over the sensitive flesh.

"All of you," I confess, pulling slightly at my wrists as he lets go but shadows have them pinned down too.

"Yeah? Do you like to imagine all three of us ruining all your pretty, wet holes at once?" He croons, his mouth just beside my ear and I writhe, unable to even grind against my own thighs since his shadows were holding me open, leaving me desperate and vulnerable for his own pleasure.

"Az," I whine.

"Tell me," He demands. "Tell me what you think about when your fingers are stuffed in your needy cunt," He hums and my brows crease at how humiliating this all was.

"I think about all three of you, fucking all my pretty holes," I confess and he smiles proudly.

"Yeah? Does that get you off?" He hums and I nod with a whimper, murmuring a pathetic, "Mhm."

His fingers are barely there as he drags them up my figure, then back down to my hips, keeping me restrained as I clench around nothing.

"I need you inside of me, please," I beg and he manically grins, kissing along my jaw, nipping at it as I continue to pull against his shadows.

"Such a needy little thing aren't you?" He taunts and I nod, agreeing with whatever he wants me to as long as he pushes himself inside of me. "Yeah? Don't worry baby, I'm going to ruin you." He said, his grip tightening on my hips as he pressed his tip to my entrance, and without another warning, pushed inside of me.

I screamed his name loudly at the intense feeling, he didn't waste time and he most definitely wasn't gentle like Rhys, or kind like Cassian, he was fucking me like an animal, and I loved every second of it.

Maybe it was because I was overstimulated but he felt so fucking long inside of me, and when his length was fully sheathed in my cunt I swore he was up against my cervix.

Shadows released my thighs for only a moment so that he could adjust my legs, pulling them up to my sides and putting me into a mating press.

"Gods, you're taking me so well," He admires, staring down at me with low-lidded eyes as I let him withdraw everything he wants from me, his cock nestled deep inside of me as I take him deeper and deeper while he fucked me into the mattress, unrelenting and so very stimulating.

"That's it, so fucking good," He throws his head back at the feeling of my puffy cunt squeezing around him torturously tight. "Gods, I'm going to fuck this wet pussy until you beg me to stop," He groans and I moan at his lewd words, and the sounds of his hips slapping against the backs of my thighs, his full balls smacking into my ass as he continued his rough pace.

He looks down at me, sweat lining my forehead and a permanent blush over my cheeks, tears running down the sides of my face as he uses me.

"You look so pretty tied up like this," He smirks, analyzing my every breath, as if needing to remember this for later.

My mouth is open, moans escaping the base of my throat with each of his thrusts, the head of his long cock kissing my cervix and I scream, my nails digging into my palms as I fight off my orgasm, feeling my encroaching climax grow closer and closer.

"Az—" I start, barely able to get his name out before I'm cut off by another moan. "I have to—" I can't even say it, tears blurring my vision as he continues to pummel into me and I deflect my third release. "You already have to cum baby?" He smirks down at me and I nod, so grateful he understood but my gratitude dwindled away with his next words. "You wanna cum? You think you've earned it?"

I nod fervently, my body aching at the position he had me stuck in. I convulse around the base thick of his cock, the back of my head buried in the pillows as I plead for my climax but he wasn't allowing it until he came too.

I force my legs open wider and he hits into me deeper, earning a grunt of pleasure from him.

"I can't Az," I plead. "I promise, I'll be a good girl just, let me cum," I say and he groans at how I sounded begging for my own release, the sounds of my moans pushing him closer to that edge.

"Alright baby, go ahead, come all over my cock," He commands and I obey without another thought, my release slamming into me hard, resulting in me shaking beneath him, my legs jolting as he slowly unpins them and lets me wrap my legs around his torso, riding out my high as he presses into my cervix and with one last harsh thrust he grunts and releases his seed into my womb, mixing it with Rhysand's and Cassian's.

My cunt is left red and swollen as he removes himself from my entrance, I close my legs as soon as he was gone, not letting any of their releases escape me, keeping it tucked inside. The mating bond affected me so much that I wanted to feel this fucked out all the time, have them fill me at every moment, drunk on their cocks.

"You did so well for us," Azriel hums, sinking into the bed beside me, my ass up against him as I flip onto my side and face Cassian, his lips finding mine, biting at my lower one while Rhys' hands fondle my oversensitive breasts. "Poor baby, she thinks we're done," Azriel hums, his cock hardening again, pressing to my ass.

"Please," I whimper but none of them stop their movements.

"It's time to take us all at once, darling," Rhys said and I gasped as I felt his hand cup my heat.

"You ready, sweetheart?" Cass asks and I can only nod helplessly.

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[genderqueerdykes]

In a weird way, it feels like this is the only blog I can ask this and know that I'll get a 100% honest answer to my question, without having to worry about reading subtext. (Thank you for that) you've mentioned you don't want man hating lesbians here (valid) and if that applies here I'll back off 100% but like.

What if I specifically hate Cishet men. What if I don't take issue with queer men at all, just the cishets? Geunine question, just in case, because I know this could read as like trolling or something, and I do understand that basic language dictates yes it'd apply but I'm stupid & not sure, and I know that even if it's a harsh or brutal reply, you'll still give it to me straight. (Thank you for that too, my autistic ass struggles with subtext a lot.)

While I have reasons for feeling the way I do, I'm not sure they matter in this context. And that's okay.

i'm glad that you want to have a genuine conversation about it, i really appreciate that! the only way to learn and figure things out is to ask questions

at the end of the day, this behavior still affects queer men. cishet men can be queer- they can be intersex, aromantic, asexual, genderqueer, gender non conforming, drag artists... "cishet man" does not inherently mean someone who is not queer. there are many ways to be queer outside of being gay, bisexual, and/or trans. and even then, this behavior gets dangerous fast because strangers you perceive to be cishet men very well can be anything but that. someone you clock to be a cishet man may be a closeted trans girl, a trans man, a non binary person, a butch lesbian, and so on. you treating that person like they're an inherent danger causes a whole host of issues

this attitude is also why trans men, trans women, and non binary people are being forcefully removed from queer communities. if a queer person reads or passes as a "cishet man," they are treated with hostility and asked to leave in a lot of cases. we cannot allow the concept of manhood and perceived manhood to be viewed as something to be avoided and cast out, because it affects so much more than just cishet men. this attitude affects a LOT of closeted and non-passing trans women. honestly, that's who this hurts the most. it hurts trans men and enbies, but it really hurts trans women. it creates a standard where they have to overperform femininity and womanhood in order to be seen as "safe", and it's not okay.

projecting your issues with a small handful of people on to an entire group does not help. you have not been harmed by the concept of cishet men- you have been harmed by specific cishet men. in permanently labeling cishet men as bad people, this creates an ultimatum where they can never improve. hating them by virtue of them being cishet men creates a standard that cishet men will ALWAYS be terrible, and that they can't improve or learn. this creates an environment where no one challenges these behaviors and it makes the cycle even more toxic and abusive

it's okay to not want to spend time with cishet men, but saying that you hate all cishet men really isn't a good look. it's not the way to go about living a happy life. assuming that every single cishet man on this planet will hurt you or be a bad person strictly by virtue of being a cishet man is exactly what cishets do to us. this is how queerphobic cishet people look at trans women. there's no reason to do it back. we have to learn not to stereotype entire groups of people, no matter who they are

the concept of cishet men has never hurt you, and it never will. cishet men are not your enemy- patriarchy is. not every single cishet man benefits from patriarchy, either. intersex men, men of color, gender non conforming men, ace men and aro men are treated like absolute shit for not conforming to the toxic masculinity that patriarchy pushes. patriarchy also harms men- we must stand alongside men who are being chewed up and spat out by this machine. cishet men are not inherently bad people- we are grooming boys and men to be hostile, emotionally closed off, and violent. this is not an inherent trait of cishet men, but rather a societal issue

i hope that makes sense! in general it just really sucks to stereotype an entire group of people. it doesn't help anyone. the concept of cishet manhood hasn't hurt you and it never will. cishet men can still be allies. i've had lots of cishet male friends who weren't transphobic or even homophobic. the first person in my irl life to switch to using my proper pronouns at the time was a cishet man. he never screwed up my pronouns once, he never questioned my gender identity. cishet man does not mean inherently violent, dangerous, and evil. the more we teach men that they don't have to be this way, the more they will follow.

hope that helps! take care!

[skyahri]

Blind |Naruto Men X Uchiha!Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki, Madara Uchiha, Hashirama Senju

Summary: How they handle their partner losing their sight due to the effects of the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Warnings: Mentions of fem, but not very relevant. Mentions of war and loss of sight.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Kakashi Hatake

He knew the day would come when the Sharingan would take your vision, but he didn't know it'd be so soon.

There were no other eyes available to you at the moment, so eternal was not an option.

Not that'd you do it anyway. It was highly against your beliefs to partake in the Uchiha nonsense that was eye swapping.

Something that drew Kakashi towards you in the first place.

You'd been preparing for this day since you first awakened your mangekyo.

You'd memorized the layout of your apartment, practiced roaming the village in a blind fold, and learned braille.

You'd been coping well, Kakashi... not so much.

He couldn't deal with the knowledge that you'd sacrificed your vision for the sake of the village.

You'd given up everything during your years as a shinobi, and this was the icing on top of the cake.

He'd watch you every day.

Watch you drag your hands across the walls of your apartment. Watch you walk a bit too far past the stall in the market. Watched you struggle to do simple things like grocery shopping.

Over time, you'd become worse and worse at eye contact, and that ate him alive.

There were no more longing looks or sneaky glances. Even your attempts to appear as if you could see were slowly declining, and it dampened his mood every time.

He felt as if he'd failed you. If only he'd been stronger, you wouldn't have had to overuse your doujutsu.

But he stayed quiet because you seemed happy. You were alive and safe and happy, and that's all he could ask for.

Shikamaru Nara

After the war, your vision had completely vanished. There were no blurry shapes or deaf perception problems because there was simply no sight.

There was no time to prepare. You hadn't planned on having to use the mangekyo so much in battle, and the price was astronomical.

He tried to help where he could, but you were being stubborn, constantly rejecting any aid he tried to provide.

"Just let me-"

"I told you I can do it myself."

"No, you can't, just let me-"

And that's when he felt the sobs rack through your body. Tears quickly fell down your face and your hands couldn't keep up.

He sighed and forced everything out of your hands.

"I can't do anything anymore."

"That's not true."

You scoffed, a bitter laugh leaving your lips.

"I can't go grocery shopping or cut fruit or put dishes away without running into everything or breaking something or,"

"Give it time. It'll get better."

"Two weeks ago, I was a shinobi. Today, I'm just a blind girl who can barely feed herself."

Shikamaru wasn't sure what to do. Strategy was easy becausebit was all factual. Feelings, though? So many variables he didn't know where to start.

He confided in Kakashi at some point, but wasn't too pleased with the advice he got it.

"Let her figure it out. She's a smart girl."

Despite thinking it was a stupid suggestion, he listened.

Slowly, over time, you'd regained your confidence and became the capable person you had previously been.

Doesn't stop Shikamaru from uncharacteristically babying you sometimes, though.

Sasuke Uchiha

He offered you his eyes, but you declined.

You weren't fond of Uchiha tradition despite being raised by it. Taking his eyes just felt like you'd be starting the new age Uchiha clan off on the wrong foot.

So you chose blindness.

It was difficult at first, but you quickly learned to get around and help yourself with little to no issue.

You'd gone from stumbling around the kitchen to making yourself breakfast within a few months.

Living with out sight wasn't too bad, and you'd grown accustomed to it. You felt like you'd made the right decision.

Until your first son was born.

It wasn't the parenting aspect that you found difficult, it was the emotional one.

When Sasuke told you your son looked just like Itachi, you knew you'd have to see for yourself.

So, you allowed Sakura to do the transplant.

Within seconds after the bandages were off and you had time to adjust to light, your sight was fully restored.

Sasuke brought in your baby, and wouldn't you know it? He looks exactly like Itachi.

The sharingan is based on strong emotions, yeah? Maybe you can base it on love in the new Era.

Naruto Uzumaki

Unlike the others, Naruto finds the whole eye transplant thing horrendous.

"What do you mean by that, huh? You freaks just trade eyes like around? That's the worst thing I've ever heard."

Although he wasn't happy with your newfound loss of sight, he wasn't one to label anything as a downside.

A setback? Sure. Negative? Never.

Hes overall very patient about it, even if in the moment he gets a little ahead of himself.

He's always forgetting that you're blind, so he'll ask you to look at things all the time.

"Hey, what's this?"

You just shrug. He may or may not bring your hand to the object to get a feel, but he mostly just gets embarrassed and drops it.

It honestly hadn't really dawned on him until he asked you to go train with him and you'd refused.

Sure, you could overtime work yourself up to be a shinobi again, but at this point in your life, that just wasn't the dream anymore.

Madara Uchiha

He thinks you're being stupid.

This world is all about power and you're choosing to be blind?

Idiotic.

You may be his wife, but he ignores you for quite some time after you make it clear there will be no eternal in your future.

It's an easy justification for him; he doesn't mingle with the weak.

Life gets pretty lonely after he decides to completely shut you out. Yeah, he sees Hashirama and makes his round through the compound, but it's not the same.

It isn't until he sees you in the village, going about life as you had months ago, that he starts to think maybe he was too hasty.

After all, he had married you for many reasons, and a big one was how skilled you were at adapting.

That night, when he finally returns home, he decides to sleep in your marital bed, not in the guest room.

The next day, he joins you for breakfast.

He came home early from his duties for the first time in a while.

He even started speaking to you once again.

You don't say anything right away. You know how he is about changing his mind, and you aren't willing to push your luck.

Things slowly get better over the span of a few weeks, and that's when you decide it's time to question him.

"I take it you've come to terms with my decision?"

"Of course not. I still think you're a fool."

Just the answer you'd expect.

"But I have missed you dearly."

You smile at him.

Hashirama Senju

The eternal was never something either of you had considered, so when your vision eventually dulled, it was fully expected.

Times were peaceful at the moment, so he had no need to worry for your safety.

You were almost always near someone willing to lay their life down for you- himself, Tobirama (reluctantly), or Madara - so there truly was no need to stress.

He helped as much as he could while also attending to his duties as Hokage.

Unlike Naruto, he had true patience. He happily held your hand every step of the way.

It wasn't long before your life was back on track, no longer burdened by the anxiety that came with cluelessness.

While Hashirama had preferred it never come to this in the first place, he was happy that things had worked out as best as they possibly could.

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 12 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 8k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! PHEW. It's been a while. I know I'm posting it at a random hour but I needed to get this chapter off my chest. I explained on tumblr why it took me so long to update. To be honest my cat is still in a bad shape and I'm still absurdly worried about her… but oh well, I needed to post this chapter to think of something else for a while, at least. So it'd be very kind of you to leave a comment to help me not freak out about my cat :)

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

You’re tired of fighting.

Your limbs are heavy, your throat burns, bruises cover your skin. Still, you try to run.

It’s useless. The two women dragging you inside the tomb are way stronger – unnaturally stronger than a human being should be. You growl like an animal, you kick and try to punch and claw anything on your reach. It’s still useless. The piece of cloth tightly wrapped around your mouth prevents you from speaking anything coherent.

The corridor opens to a big hall. The place is ancient, it is brightly illuminated by many torches. Strange paintings cover the walls and tall columns. There is a platform and something that looks like an altar ahead of you. On their sides, there are tall ceramic vases, five on each side. Sitting at the right side of the altar, there is a statue: the body of a female, the head of a lion, wielding a spear.

There is a woman standing on top of the platform.

A violent shiver runs down your spine. You know that woman… she was the first thing you saw when you woke up. If she didn’t exude cruelty and malice, maybe you would’ve thought she is beautiful: her tall stature, her long curly dark brown hair, her full lips and pink irises… but you know better. There is nothing good about that woman except her appearance.

She wears a similar white tunic as the other women in the hall, but is the only one wearing a golden headpiece, a thick necklace and many bracelets. Her expression isn’t cruel and mocking at the moment like you’ve seen her before. She just looks serious.

And there’s that other thing on the altar, too.

It… it resembles a woman, but you’re not sure: as pale as a cadaver, contrasting with the warmer skin tones of all the other women inside the tomb; its hair is long, straight and red, resembling a lion’s mane. The creature is… strangely tall, its arms and legs are disproportional to the rest of the body. It’s completely naked – you see the rags of what probably was its clothes scattered around the altar.

And it looks sick.

It’s way too skinny. Its ribs are very clearly outlined on the skin. Its cheeks are profound; its red eyes have heavy dark circles around them. Its whole body is trembling, its breathing is irregular. It drools like a sick dog.

And they are pulling you towards it.

After the initial shock, you begin to kick and scream again, but it’s still useless. You don’t want to be anywhere near that thing. It smells awful, it’s uncanny and scary and violently unnatural…

The other woman – who appears to be some sort of leader – grips you by the arm and drags you closer to that creature. She is even stronger than the other two who held you previously. She says something in a language you don’t understand.

You scream again. You try to pull your arm back, you try to claw her–

She squeezes your arm.

An agonizing yell erupts from your throat. Tears well up your eyes. Your legs fail.

You could hear the sound of your bones cracking under her grip.

That creature holds you this time. It pants like an animal. Even through the pain, you try to push it away – but it is useless.

Its long fingers entangle around the hair at the back of your head; it pushes it, forcing your head back and exposing your neck. It open its mouth wide, its horrible fangs approaching…

When it bites your neck, you can’t scream anymore; its jaws completely block your trachea. You gag, your eyes pop wide. There’s a suction noise… it is sucking your blood, you realize with horror. Your good hand still tries to pull its hair, but once again, it is useless… extreme weakness roams your body. The world twirls as every bit of strength disappears. Your head hurts as if someone had just hammered it.

Finally, it lets you go. You fall flat on the floor.

Your vision is blurred and darkening. You can’t move anymore. Your arm and your neck hurt so, so bad. And yet, you have time to see something before completely blacking out.

The creature doesn’t look like a creature anymore… its cheeks are not hollow, its limbs are no longer disproportional, body fat and muscles are visible again.

It is indeed a woman, not a thing.

She sighs contently and stretches her arms.

The world fades away.

Notre Dame’s high vaulted ceiling was indeed impressive.

How long did it take to build such a magnificent structure? How many workers were necessary? Who must’ve planned the building? How did they know that something so big wouldn’t crumble? Who must’ve crafted the beautiful stained glasses that colored the walls as sunshine touched them?

You had no idea.

You didn’t know why you were staring at it, either.

Your senses came back rather slowly. Voices… steps… everything echoed within the cathedral. The place you were laid at was uncomfortable… a wooden bench. One of the many you’d seen previously. Now that the place was properly lit by sunlight, it didn’t look as eerie as before.

Finally, you decided to sit up.

The great hall was full. The benches weren’t perfectly lined as before, which made you remember that Jules and the monks had used them to barricade the doors. You quickly realized that the injured in battle were brought inside the cathedral, where women priestesses wearing black tunics that covered their heads helped them (you heard two distinctive words: sister and nun. Was that the name of their position?). You saw them running from side to side, holding bloody pieces of cloth and water basins. Other civilian women were helping with medical aid as well.

No known face in sight.

Immediate nervousness set in your guts. Where was everybody? Why were you laying there?

This nervousness vanished in two seconds, however, when a familiar voice called.

You turned your head to see Charles, Jules and Henri rushing to where you were. You almost sighed in relief; Jules didn’t look seriously injured and Henri’s right shoulder was properly bandaged, though he still looked way too pale and tired. All of them looked worn out, in fact, with their uniforms ragged in some spots and blood stains here and there.

“Mademoiselle! You’re–“

“You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

“I’ll call for help! Sister! Please–“

You immediately raised your palm in Charle’s direction. “No, please. I am fine. I don’t need medical aid, thank you.”

The three boys sat down. They silently battled to see who would take their place by your side – Henri ended up winning. The other two sat on the bench in front of you, frowning at the ginger boy.

“What happened? Where is Alucard?” You asked.

“You passed out, Miss Ruby.” Charles explained. Jules elbowed him and angry whispered don’t call her by her name, you’re not her close friend!. “Mr. Alucard brought you down. After he checked that you weren’t hurt, he let you rest and left to care for the troops… he told us to take care of you–“

“He told me to take care of you.” Jules hissed again.

“He didn’t address you, we were all present at that moment…”

But their incessant arguing didn’t catch your attention, because you remembered someone and it immediately made your heart race.

“Mizrak!” You looked around, searching for his familiar face between the injured. “Where is Mizrak?!”

They eyed each other hesitantly.

“The monk, isn’t it?” Jules asked. You nodded. “He… he disappeared, Mademoiselle. He just weren’t there when we opened the doors again.”

“He might’ve crawled somewhere else,” Charles tried to calm you down. “There are other points in the city were the injured are being taken care of.”

“He’s a strong man, isn’t he? I-I’m sure he’s alright, somewhere…” Henri didn’t sound confident at all, however.

You instinctively gripped the fabric of your skirt. How could he just have disappeared? No one simply disappears. His wound was beyond serious, it needed immediate medical assistance. What if a vampire had dragged him away, fed from his corpse? What if he died because of you?

Which made you remember something else, for some reason. Your eyes popped wide once again.

“My scepter? Where is it?” Once again, you looked at your sides.

“My” scepter. Why did you claim it as yours so instinctively?

It just… felt right to do so.

“It’s under the bench, mademoiselle,” Henri pointed. You rushed to grab it, almost sighing in relief. Something so shiny would definitely attract thieves if you weren’t careful.

The three boys were engaged in some conversation. They were asking you questions, in fact, about what happened exactly at the top of the bell tower, where did that light come from, but you weren’t paying attention, focusing your eyes on the golden artifact instead.

You had already noticed it before – but the staff had a very subtle cone format. It got a bit thinner on the other end.

You brushed your fingers around it. The scepter… it didn’t look that unfamiliar anymore.

There was a small spot on the base of it, near the sun symbol. You pressed your thumb over it.

And then – the staff retracted.

It emitted a soft metallic sound as the entire length of the staff fit into itself. Now, you just held a disk – the sun symbol – that was a little larger than your hand, with ninety percent of the staff reduced to a small handle.

The four of you went immediately silent in shock.

“Wow.” Jules exclaimed. “How did you do this?”

“I don’t know.”

“It retracted perfectly,” Henri said in awe. “It’s an engineering masterpiece!”

They began to discuss between themselves again, and as much as you didn’t really mind their company, they were starting to bring you headaches. They reminded you a bit of a pack of turkeys – if one made a noise, all the others repeated.

“Gentlemen,” your voice immediately stopped their incessant talking. They looked at your with attention. You held the sun disk with both hands and rested them over your lap. “I didn’t have the opportunity to properly thank you all yet. Without your efforts, I would’ve never arrived here… and I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t. All of you saved uncountable lives today.” You managed to open a small smile while passing your eyes by each of the three. “Thank you so much.”

They got speechless for once.

You watched as their lips curved up into grins. Jules massaged the back of his neck sheepishly, Charles stuffed his chest like a bird, Henri got redder than a tomato. It was funny how these three were only big in size; in your eyes, they weren’t much far from the other three little boys you met in Paris.

You were also a bit surprised at your own speech. A week ago, you would’ve never even imagined yourself speaking with quiet confidence like that… you didn’t stutter once, which honestly felt great.

Finally, you stood up, being followed by them.

“Do you know where Alucard and the others are?”

Of course they knew. Of course they wouldn’t let you make your way there on your own.

The three guided you outside of the cathedral once again talking incessantly. You resigned yourself to replying with short sentences anytime a question was asked, way too focused on analyzing the destruction of the city. There was blood everywhere. The area around Notre Dame specifically was full of night creature carcasses; volunteers worked on grabbing them to throw them in a bonfire nearby. The streets were crowded as citizens helped clean the city, bring down the rubble barricades, measure the damage, or simply went back to their homes and establishments.

It was strange to see everything under the sunshine… and to think that just one or two hours ago, you were running around these streets, trying to survive vampire attacks, feeling the deepest fear you’ve ever felt – and trying to brush it aside. You had managed to, somehow… something unthinkable for the person you were a week ago.

...Had you really changed this much in a few days, or you were simply allowed to be yourself for the first time in your life?

“...What I’m trying to say, Mademoiselle,” Henri’s nervous voice caught your attention for the first time. He sent an angry glance towards the other two before looking at you with expectation. “D-Do you have a house in Paris?”

“No.”

“Great! I-I mean–“ he cleaned his throat and put his hand over his chest. “If you need a place to stay – to spend the night, perhaps – you are more than welcome in my house. It’s not far from here. We have enough rooms and food for you. A-And Mr. Alucard, of course,” he giggled nervously.

You half expected the other two to offer their homes as well, but they didn’t, to your surprise. They just looked at him with what looked like jealousy.

Before you could answer, you arrived at a great square – and you forgot about the three.

“Excuse me,” you said before rushing towards Annette.

The square had many people walking from here to there, dragging rubble or just watching – but you didn’t care. Annette is alive! More than that, she looked fine. The dark haired girl spotted you as well and rushed, meeting you halfway.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Where is Richter?” You blurted out, immediately searching for injuries with your eyes. Annette chuckled and held your arms delicately.

“I’m fine. We’re both fine. What about you?” She quirked one eyebrow up. “I heard you unleashed some terrifying magic.”

She lowered her eyes to the sun disk you held. You immediately avoided her gaze, feeling sheepish. “Well, I… I don’t really know how to explain what happened.”

Annette shrugged. “Neither do I.”

“Where’s Richter?” You repeated and started to turn around. Annette, for some reason, widened her eyes and was about to hold you back again…

“Wait–“

She tried, but it was already too late.

The first thing you saw was Alucard, standing at a good distance.

He was eyeing you intently. Juste Belmont was by his side – how and when did he arrive in Paris? – wearing an elegant long red coat.

When your eyes crossed his, your entire body froze.

What happened at the bell tower…

It felt as if your entire face was on fire. Heavens, you hugged him – you actually hugged him, you entangled your arms around his neck and cried like a child. You certainly were not in your right mind to do something so… so… so…!

But then, you looked at something else – the thing Annette was worried that you’d see – and all the other thoughts ceased.

Your stomach dropped.

A big bonfire was being formed by civilians bringing rubble; it was more than two meters tall, perhaps. In between the pieces of wood, there were corpses – the vampires that didn’t turn to ashes during the flash of sunlight.

And the biggest corpse of them all…

You instinctively stepped back.

Erzsebet Bathory.

She didn’t look like herself anymore. She was even taller than what you remembered, her red hair longer, her face distorted in animalistic traits… one arm had been chopped off. She had many bruises and injuries. Her cheeks were hollow, her mouth wide open in a perpetual expression of shock and pain.

Erzsebet Bathory was dead.

No mistakes this time, Alucard had said.

The sight of her destroyed, lifeless corpse made your stomach twirl. And once again, you hated the effect this woman had upon you even in death, even with you looking at her in that state. It felt like she would suddenly screech and launch herself at you like so many times before. You could almost feel her claws gnawing your skin, her fangs sinking in your neck…

She is dead. She is dead. She can’t hurt me anymore. She is dead.

Annette’s soft touch on your shoulder brought you back to reality. She looked at you with worry.

“Do you remember what I told you?” She asked quietly.

And when we defeat Erzsebet, justice will be done.

You closed your eyes for a moment and sighed.

“Yes. I’ll… I’ll be fine.” You reassured her. You weren’t fine at that moment, but you would be.

Finally, you spotted Richter walking towards you both. He looked very injured – he had multiple burns on both arms, the sleeves of his blue jacket had been ripped. He was limping and looked very tired, yet still managed to open a small smile to you.

He carried a long piece of wood. The tip had been draped with pieces of cloth.

His small smile vanished. He looked down at you with solemnity.

“You arrived at the right time, Ruby.” Richter looked down at the wood he held. “We believe… you deserve to be the one to do it.”

You finally understood.

That was a torch.

You gulped, your body got tense. Even so, you nodded accordingly. You wouldn’t be able to speak even if you tried.

Richter summoned a ball of blue fire in his hand and ignited the torch. You shoved the sun disk inside your vest and held the torch with both hands.

You took a deep breath before approaching the pyre.

The square stopped to watch the scene.

Erzsebet’s corpse was horrendous, disgusting. You decided to not avoid your gaze from it. You bent slightly, making the tip of the torch touch the wood at the base of the pyre. The fire spread rapidly.

You stepped away and watched.

The people at the square cheered at the sight of the so-called Vampire Messiah burning. Your world, however, was quiet. All you could hear were the sounds of the wood cackling, the flames increasing and consuming everything in the pyre. You watched with attention as the fire consumed Erzsebet’s corpse; it burned her skin, her hair, muscles and bones. And a part of you was grateful to be left alone – Alucard, Annette, Richter and the three boys decided to stand away.

Erzsebet was dead. Definitely.

She used to be your world merely a week ago. Everything revolved around her: your fear, your hopelessness, your hatred, your self-loathing, your confusion. You were just a shadow of a person, an empty fragile shell on the verge of breaking apart. She was your world – and your world was dark, cold, bloody and lonely.

Things were slowly changing now.

You learned that the real world also had place for colors. For kindness, friendship, perseverance and freedom. The real world was not a perfect place, but it was vast; and its vastness for sure should have a place for you somewhere – a place were you wouldn’t be hurt anymore.

At that moment, you decided that you would never cry for her again.

You had already cried enough. She had forced you to dedicate your entire existence for her. You knew that your wounds were way too deep to be forgotten, you knew that the scars that would come from them would be ugly and impossible to ignore. You knew that it wouldn’t be fast and easy to overcome your fears and all the disgusting memories she dug into your soul.

But even so, you decided not to cry.

She had taken enough from you.

When her skeleton was visible, you turned your back to the pyre.

Richter was leaning on Annette for support, his arm resting over her shoulders while she hugged him from the side. You approached them hesitantly.

Annette still looked worried.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

You looked down at your bloody sleeve.

“Disgusting. I need a bath.” Finally, you lifted your gaze again. “A friend of mine can help us out.”

You quickly found out why the other two boys didn’t offer their houses as well.

Henri was the son of a judge, who was apparently intimately tied to the leaderships of the Revolutionaries. His house was far from being as luxurious as the chateau in Machecoul (you figured that if Henri’s father had a house like that, he’d be next in the guillotine line), but it was still bigger and more comfortable than the average home anyway, located at the heart of Paris.

Henri had offered you (and Alucard as an afterthought) a shelter… but you figured he wouldn’t mind if you brought other visitors as well.

Right?

Well, his father certainly didn’t mind. The middle-aged man thanked Alucard over a hundred times, his eyes gleaming as if he stood in front of a golden statue, babbling how he was thankful for his help. Alucard listened patiently, but you were around him for long enough to start noticing his very subtle expression changes.

You remembered his opinion about the leaders of the Revolutionaries…

Well.

The rest of the group was more than happy to have a place to stay for a while, so there wasn’t really what to argue here.

“Stay for as long as you like!” Henri’s father repeated for the hundredth time while guiding everyone inside. “We have enough bedrooms, enough food… well, perhaps not enough clothes, but I’ll figure it out in no time! Tell me whatever you need and I’ll have it ready. All I have to offer is little compared to what you did to save our nation today!”

Alucard resigned himself to offer him a nod.

Before the white-haired vampire could focus on you, you immediately accepted a maid’s offer to get upstairs and have a bath.

...You didn’t know why you were avoiding him. Not exactly. Perhaps embarrassment? You’d never been deliberately touchy with anyone like that before. Well, you weren’t in your right mind at that moment for whatever reason. Maybe you crossed a boundary? Maybe you went too far? Alucard didn’t push you away, however – but he wasn’t one to be rude anyway… at the same time, it’s not like Alucard wasn’t someone that didn’t know how to establish boundaries. The fact that he didn’t push you away had to mean something, right?

He hugged you back, in fact.

He rested his face on your shoulder and didn’t move.

You felt his hot breath on your neck and his large hand softly caressing your back.

For the second time, he held you until you fell asleep.

Your face was burning hot.

Suddenly, for unknown reasons, you felt as if you were exposed again, as if there was a crowd watching you with scrutiny even though there was no one else besides the maid in the room. You felt burning embarrassment crawl over your skin and it burnt almost as much as the strange magic of the scepter. For the first time in your life, you dismissed a maid’s offer to help you bathe and decided to do it yourself.

And then you were alone in the bedroom, but you still felt strange and exposed and oh heavens you were disgusting. Sweaty, dried blood covered your skin. You got rid of those layers of clothes and sat inside the wooden bathtub – it was smaller than what you were used to, the water wasn’t as warm, there weren’t bath salts, only a bar of soap.

Erzsebet chose the bath salts you’d bathe in. She liked flowery fragrances.

And then you remembered that you still smelled of her, that her disgustingly sweet smell was mixed with the smell of blood and sweat, and then you were scrubbing yourself with the sponge and soap vehemently.

You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, watching the foam spread over your skin. You scrubbed your arms and chest and legs and stomach and feet. But the smell wouldn’t go away, so you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. You scrubbed until your skin started to hurt. That pain made you remember the sight of Erzsebet burning in the pyre, the sight of her skin boiling and melting from her bones – which, for some reason, made you scrub harder. You weren’t planning to, but you ended up untying your hair and washing it too, scratching your scalp with soap in frenetic movements because that bad smell was probably in your hair, too.

You scrubbed your own body until you were tired, until the water became actually cold, until your arms hurt from the repetitive movements. You stood inside the tub with water on your knees, the naked upper part of your body shaking in cold, and watched as blood dripped from the scratches you had inflicted on your own thighs. Perhaps… perhaps too much scrubbing. How did that even happen?

You sniffed your hair. Your skin. It didn’t smell of flowers anymore.

Just soap.

So you finally got out of the tub and wrapped yourself in a towel.

When the maid entered the bedroom with a fresh change of clothes, you avoided eye contact with her. She explained that the dress was Henri’s sister’s and perhaps it wouldn’t fit, but she already had a box of threads and needles to make adjustments. It wasn’t an intricate ball gown, but it wasn’t a simple dress either. It had cream and light green tones with pink flowers peppered around the corset and skirt. The dress was light and comfortable. It didn’t require many adjustments.

The maid offered herself to brush and style your hair, to which you politely declined. She probably wouldn’t be aggressive the way you were used to, but… no. Not right now.

When the maid left, you sat in front of the dressing table… and stayed there for a while. Disheveled damp hair fell over your shoulders. It was probably wetting the back of the dress. You didn’t care.

You stared at your own reflection for the first time in days.

The morning Alucard appeared in your life, you were doing just that – watching your reflection. Scrutinizing yourself. You didn’t look different. But, at the same time, there was something different about you – and you couldn’t tell exactly what.

You still had no past or family or name… but you weren’t just a bird in a cage anymore either, nor a lamb obediently walking to its slaughter night after night.

You were free.

It was scary.

What were you going to do from now on? You were actually alone. You owned nothing, and it was pretty clear that in order to survive in this world, you’d need some gold or coins or… whatever the currency was. You couldn’t assume Henri would let you live under his shelter forever and you weren’t innocent enough to not understand what it meant to stay.

You were nobody.

The others? They accepted you because you were a link to Erzsebet’s powers, an upper hand. Now their enemies were dead. They had no responsibility over you… you shouldn’t assume that they would take care of you like you were a child.

As humiliating as it might be, you felt like a child.

What would be your place in this world? Was something expected of you? Would they expect you to get married and have children? Should you find some sort of work? Should you perform some sort of role?

The reflection in the mirror frowned back at you slowly.

A… role?

...

You learned that your blood was valuable to her.

...

“But I am no vampire.”

“No. However, you heal like one. And Erzsebet drank from your blood for a long time, apparently.”

Annette looked at Alucard. “Do you think this was also somehow empowering her?”

The vampire took some moments to answer. “Maybe. We can’t be sure.”

…

That creature doesn’t look like a creature anymore… its cheeks are not hollow, its limbs are no longer disproportional, body fat and muscles are visible again.

It is indeed a woman, not a thing.

…

It took you a long time to realize that there was someone knocking on the door. You got up in a jump and rushed towards it with your thoughts rushing faster than the currents of a river.

It was Henri. He had also taken a proper bath, changed his clothes, and blushed furiously when his eyes fell on your figure. Maybe because your hair was damp and not presentable? Not very lady-like. Perhaps inappropriate. But you didn’t care, the same way you didn’t really pay attention to anything he was saying; his words seemed muffled and distant within the cacophony of your own thoughts.

The bandages on his left shoulder were peeking from under his blouse.

“Henri, would you do something for me?” you interrupted whatever he was babbling before. “But you have to trust me.”

His eyes widened. “O-Of course! Anything for you, Mademoiselle.”

You opened the door wide and stepped aside, pointing towards the bed. “Please, have a seat.”

His face got even redder, if that was possible.

“B-B-But Mademoiselle– it would be inappropriate to enter your room like that, when we’re alone–“

“Please.”

“Of course!”

He rushed in awkwardly as if that wasn’t his own house. You didn’t bother to close the door again – if the idea of being alone with you made him so uncomfortable, it was best to leave it open. Henri sat on the edge of the bed while blinking rapidly for some reason. His breathing also looked irregular. Was he feeling unwell?

“Can you show me your wound?” You asked. Henri widened his eyes again.

“Mademoiselle… hm…”

“Trust me.” You were running impatient.

Henri hesitated, but ended up taking off his coat and pushing his blouse to expose the bandages. You turned around to take something from the dressing table. When you turned around holding a pair of scissors, Henri got pale.

He was a bit of a chameleon.

Henri was about to protest again, but the look you sent him made him gulp and go quiet. You stood in front of him to carefully cut the bandages away and expose the gashes on his shoulder. They were properly cleaned and stitched up, but even so you could still see how horribly that vampire hurt him. If Henri’s head was centimeters closer to the vampire’s claws… he wouldn’t be here right now to change colors anymore.

Henri gasped when you brought the blade of the scissors and cut your own palm.

“Mademoiselle–!”

“Shh.”

He swallowed his words.

You hoped to be right. That had to work.

Carefully, you pressed your bleeding palm over his wounds.

Henri hissed. Your hand moved slowly to spread the blood over the entire surface of the gashes. The sight was unpleasant, to say the least… but it was less disgusting than making him drink your blood.

Please, work. Please, work.

Nothing changed at first.

But then, Henri gasped – and you gasped, too.

Your palm pressed over his wounds – your blood started to glow faintly. It took a strange golden color, as if it became melted gold.

Both of you watched in awe as Henri’s wounds started to heal right in front of your eyes.

He seemed out of breath. He frowned and hissed and you knew he was probably hurting because you knew that feeling. You stood upright and stepped away from him in slight shock.

The threads that were used to stitch the gashes fell over his lap.

Henri touched his own shoulder hesitantly. He pressed his fingers over it, massaged it. There was no sign that it was previously hurt… not even a scar.

You learned that your blood was valuable to her.

Why keep you around? Why keep you locked with guards holding you at all times? Why drag you along anywhere she went?

That was the answer to one of the questions that plagued your existence.

Henri was healed.

Finally, he rose his amazed eyes towards you.

“Miss Ruby… h-how did…?”

Then, he looked at something behind you and got pale again.

You turned around.

Alucard stood by the door, watching the scene with an astonished expression.

You locked eyes. With that simple gaze, you saw that he understood the situation completely.

One piece of the puzzle that hid your mysterious past was solved.

“...Why is he talking funny?” You whispered in Annette’s ear.

She quirked one eyebrow up and looked towards Juste, who stood not far from where you were sitting.

A smirk crept up her lips. “He’s drunk.”

Juste Belmont, Richter’s grandfather who you only saw briefly at his destroyed cottage, swayed slightly as if he stood on water, though the ground at the sides of the Seinne were clearly cobblestones. His eyes were half lidded, his speech slower and a bit difficult to understand. He held a wooden cup full of beer and talked to some unknown men who seemed to be in a similar state as him.

At your obvious confusion, Annette frowned. “Have you never been drunk?”

“I don’t know what that is, I’m afraid.”

Annette looked more confused than you. She eyed the bottle of the (not very good) wine you’d been sharing for the past hour or so. “Well, I’m surprised… given how much you’ve been drinking. You don’t feel anything strange at all? A certain dizziness? A sudden happiness?”

You put your hand over your own stomach and frowned. “No. Was I supposed to?”

She rested her face on her palm. “A normal person would be supposed to… but I guess your healing ability doesn’t even let you get drunk.” A small chuckle went past her lips. “It’s what happens when someone drinks too much of an alcoholic beverage. They lose their senses, get dizzy, sometimes end up saying or doing things they wouldn’t do when they’re sane…”

“Oh.” Funnily enough, you knew how that felt – but it didn’t have anything to do with alcohol… just extreme levels of “sun magic”, apparently. “I didn’t know wine has alcohol. It doesn’t feel much different than juice to me.” You quirked one eyebrow up. “Does juice have alcohol?”

“No. Hopefully no.” She shook her head. It seemed that Annette thought your confusion over some things amused her, much like Alucard. She looked ahead again. “Getting drunk is not always bad, you know. Sometimes it helps you lift your spirits.”

You looked ahead too, back to where Juste and his new friends laughed at the top of their lungs at something you didn’t hear, and silently wished you could get drunk if it’d make you laugh like that.

It was… strange, to say the least, how the night in Paris was so lively. Streets were crowded and well lit, laughter and music filled the air as citizens celebrated. Men, women, young or old – the entire city decided to go outside and have a huge party. It didn’t even seem that a literal war broke out only a few hours ago. Most of the rubble hadn’t even been collected.

It was like no one cared. Which, in your opinion, was a bit heartless, given how many lives were lost. But it seems they were just happy that the person who threatened their freedom was dead.

Well. You should be happy too. More than anyone.

Why weren’t you celebrating with them?

You craved freedom for as long as you could remember. More than that… you craved relief. But turns out, deep down, you never thought that day would actually come, and now that it did, you just didn’t know how to react. So your body and feelings just decided to freeze in this strange state.

The others seemed happy – well, maybe except for Maria, the blonde girl in pink. She talked a bit with Annette and Juste, but resigned herself to be quiet most of the time with perpetual melancholy over her features. From what you knew, Maria had lost her mother the day you met Alucard, so her actions were understandable.

Richter bounced back between talking to Juste and Annette. The black haired girl still seemed a bit apprehensive about something, but other than that, she was much more relaxed than what you’d known of her. And Alucard… he was somewhere. He left the house with everyone, but quickly got caught up in conversation with some generals you’d seen before.

So there you were. Sitting on a bench with Annette by your side, watching Paris celebrate the death of the Vampire Messiah, while you felt that you couldn’t even move.

It was overwhelming. And a bit uncomfortable.

Turns out you hadn’t really gotten used to crowds… it seems it’s not something that would change over just a few days. Many men you met the day before came to greet you with wide smiles in their faces (now that Annette had explained, you figured most of them were probably drunk too). Of course, you were happy anytime you recognized a face – one more soldier that hadn’t fallen. But at at some point… you didn’t want to talk anymore, or force smiles, or try to pay attention to whatever they were trying to say.

So you decided to sit with Annette for a while in this somehow hidden spot. It seemed she didn’t want to mix with the people as well. You wondered if it had anything to do with what Alucard explained about her past and her homeland…

Which made you remember something else – something you’d been hesitating to ask.

You straightened your back and cleaned your throat. “Hm, Annette… can I ask you something?” She looked at you and nodded. “Do you remember what you said or did while… well… while Sekhmet possessed you?”

She narrowed her eyes and looked down, touching her temples with her fingertips. “Not exactly. I remember what happened while I was in the spirit world… but even these memories are a bit vague in some parts. Like the memories of a dream.” She rested her hand back over her lap. “It’s always like that when I wander there.”

“So you weren’t really here while Sekhmet had your body?” Annette shook her head. Your shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Oh. I understand.”

She tilted her head. “Why you ask?”

“Sekhmet said something strange about me.” You avoided her eyes. Although they shared the same face, Annette had nothing to do with Sekhmet and the feral glare she sent you at that moment. “She said I should not be close to her.”

“What? Why?”

“She didn’t explain. That’s why I hoped maybe you’d have a hint… since you shared a body.”

Annette held her chin in a pensive expression. “...I have no idea, I’m sorry. But if I remember something relevant from when I was in the spirit world, I’ll tell you right away.”

You thanked her quietly and looked ahead again. You couldn’t blame her. Annette had asked how that flash of sunlight happened, how the scepter worked – and similarly to her, you had no answers.

Richter was, once again, approaching with a smile on his face. Perhaps that was the little push you needed to move. Whenever he came around, you felt that you were… interrupting. It wasn’t the first time you felt like that around them, but the situation became a little bit more intense. Maybe you really were interrupting, maybe they wanted some time for themselves but didn’t want to be rude.

So you finally decided to get up.

“I’m tired... I’ll head back now.”

Annette seemed a bit worried. “Do you want me to walk back with you?”

Again, you couldn’t blame her for being worried, not after all she had seen of you – acting like a frightened little mouse all the time. You shook your head and managed to open a small (fake) smile. “No, thank you. The house is just two streets away… I promise to not get lost.”

Annette hesitated… but it seems she understood you wanted to be left alone.

“Okay. Take care.”

You nodded and turned around, not waiting to greet Richter. It also made you feel a bit like that frightened little mouse again, but there was another reason why you felt confident enough to walk these two streets alone. The red string around your right wrist. You decided to keep it there, the same way you decided to take the red disk – scepter – with you wherever you went. The idea of it being taken from you was enough to keep you on your toes at all times.

You walked past couples, families, friends, children – talking, drinking, dancing, running around. You wished you wouldn’t feel this disconnected from their reality. No… it was a bit more complicated than that. You wished you had a family, a real past, more good memories than bad ones. Perhaps if you had these things… you wouldn’t feel so distant or lost or empty.

As much as you’d been avoiding to sleep, you assumed that sleeping right now would ease your feelings a bit.

That was when something very subtle tingled on your wrist.

You looked down in time to see the red string untying itself and falling.

Frowning, you crouched and took it from the floor again. Had you accidentally brushed on someone–?

If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.

Your eyes widened.

You looked around frantically.

Finally – you found him.

Alucard stood alone on one of the many bridges over the Seinne not very far from where you were. He was difficult to find at first, but as soon as your eyes locked on him, everyone else became blurred. He leaned both forearms over the stone railing in a relaxed position; his face held the serenity you were already used to. It’s like he was deep in thought. The soft night breeze played with his white hair. He looked down at the river.

His red string swayed with the wind, too. Untied. He held it between his fingers.

Your heart stopped beating for a second.

You stood there, unable to move, as if your body finally remembered how to feel something, how to not be distant. You gulped, gripped the sun disk a little tighter.

Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.

Alucard noticed you were avoiding him. Well, it was quite impossible not to notice. He didn’t make any attempts to approach you (you quite literally ran away from him earlier after the new discovery about your blood). But that… that was a very clear message.

A quiet invitation.

So you took a deep breath, trying to calm your stupid racing heart. Why were you scared? That was Alucard. You knew Alucard. He was never mean to you, never made you feel bad intentionally. You had faced a city full of vampires earlier that day… talking to him was nothing compared to that.

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

You walked towards him.

You didn’t rush. You held the disk tightly, keeping it close to your stomach, the red string tangled around your palm. It seemed that your heart thundered louder on your ears with every step. It was like the world got blurrier and blurrier except for him.

After what seemed like an eternity, you stood by his side.

Two steps away. You looked down at the river, too.

Silence.

You weren’t brave enough to look at him. Alucard didn’t move, didn’t say anything. But… just like before, his quiet serenity enveloped you, made the celebration noises a bit distant.

It didn’t calm your raging heart this time.

It took you a while to understand that Alucard was waiting for you to speak up first. But he called me here. Doesn’t he have anything to say? Why should I be the one to speak first?!

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

You gulped.

“I…” Your voice cracked a bit. You felt the urge to jump in the river and drown. “I don’t know how they have the energy to celebrate. It… doesn’t feel appropriate.”

Alucard sighed.

“The grieving families for sure aren’t out here.” Goosebumps roamed your skin when his calm husky voice reached your ears. “France is far from reaching real peace in the next few years… let them celebrate for now.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes glued to the river down there. It reflected the golden lights of the lanterns on the margins beautifully.

Come on, don’t be scared. Don’t be embarrassed. Come on. Come on. Come on.

You took what you had kept inside the sleeve of your dress hesitantly.

“A-Actually, I… I wanted to give you this.”

You turned to Alucard for the first time. He was already looking at you.

He looked down at the carefully folded handkerchief you offered him with both hands.

His expressions changed subtly. At first, confusion; then, surprise.

Then… a small smile.

You cleared your throat. “G-Give it back, actually. Since I ruined yours… I don’t know if it’s the same fabric, but it looks similar to the one you had.”

Alucard chuckled and took the handkerchief with care. When his fingers brushed yours, you felt more goosebumps.

“There was no need… but thank you. It is very thoughtful.”

You managed to smile, but turned to the river again before your face started burning.

With the corner of your eyes, you saw him put the handkerchief inside his coat and lean over the railing again. He was not wearing his cape. There was something different about him… perhaps because immediate danger wasn’t lurking anymore, Alucard felt comfortable enough to actually relax, and it reflected on his body and face.

You taped your pointer finger over the sun disk nervously. “How’s your wound?” You blurted out, desperate to not fall in an awkward silence.

Alucard instinctively touched his left shoulder. “Healed.” He looked at you again. “What about you?”

Oh fuck. He was addressing the elephant in the room – your strange state that made you weirder and braver than usual. Please do not mention the hug. Please please please please.

Once more, you avoided his gaze. “...Back to normal, I believe.” I hope is what you wanted to say, but perhaps it would’ve been a little rude.

“Do you have any idea of why that happened to you?”

You tightened your lips and frowned a bit.

You will burn from inside out.

It’s what the unknown female voice told you.

“I believe… I was doing something wrong at first.” You started hesitantly. “The magic. I was conjuring it in an incorrect way. I think my mistake harmed me. Burning me from inside out.”

Alucard hummed and held his chin.

“So it backfires. Magic so powerful should have its side effects.” Alucard seemed hesitant. “If it harms you… you should consider not doing it unless absolutely necessary.”

“No! It was just at first. I… figured it out later.” The thought made you tighten your grip around the sun disk by instinct. “Though, to be honest, I feel that that specific ritual shouldn’t be used in excess.”

Alucard’s eyes followed your grip. He quirked one eyebrow up slightly.

“I was meaning to ask you about this, too.” You handed him the sun disk right away, to which he took and raised to his eye level. “So the staff retracts. How did you figure it out?”

You shrugged. “It just felt right.”

Alucard grinned while handing it back to you. “It seems you’re remembering a lot of things.”

“...I’m not sure. It’s like I told you before… knowledge. Not memories.”

The white-haired vampire leaned on the railing again and looked into the distance. His expression got a bit more serious.

“I was thinking of what you told me. It reminded me of something.” Alucard seemed to hesitate. “...My parents were doctors. Both of them. My father, specifically, had a bit of a fascination for the mysteries of the human brain. He dedicated many studies and experiments to it. Wrote entire books.” Whenever Alucard mentioned anything about his father, it was like nothing else in the world mattered. You were completely focused. “From his many theses… he got to the conclusion that memories and abilities are stored in different areas of the brain. That could be why when someone suffers from memory loss, they still know how to speak, read, write… they know how to function.”

Your eyes widened at each word that left his mouth. “...Just like me.” Alucard nodded. You instinctively touched your own head. “So maybe this part of my brain is damaged?”

“Could be.”

“But why isn’t it healing back?”

Alucard hesitated.

“I believe we’ll figure it out soon.” You wanted to ask what the hell he meant by that, but Alucard decided to change topics drastically. “Talking about healing… did you tell anyone about what happened?”

Oh.

The absolute shocking news you discovered earlier that day, but that seemed pale at that moment in comparison with your nervousness to speak with him.

“No.” You shook your head. “But I was thinking… Richter’s burns are pretty bad. Maybe I could help him… or maybe if I knew where Mizrak is, I could save him...”

“Ruby.”

He put his hand over your shoulder – which made you swallow your words.

Quiet worry coated his features.

“I understand you want to help. But you should also understand that the properties of your blood are extremely rare and extremely valuable. It will put a target on your head again. So… the less people know about it, the better.” He dropped his hand from your shoulder. “Also… if in order to heal someone you end up getting hurt, I don’t see why you should do it.”

“But I always–“

“I know.” He interrupted you softly. “I know you do. That doesn’t mean you should hurt yourself willingly.” Alucard pressed his lips. “...Blood is life, Ruby. Don’t give your life away so easily.”

You sighed heavily and crossed your arms. “I guess you’re right. Henri knows about it, though.”

“He won’t tell anyone.” Alucard sounded way too certain about that.

It was your turn to lean on the stone railing, You looked down at the river. The pacific sound of the non-stopping flowing waters muffled the other noises – uncountable voices and music. You wondered if Alucard attracted you here on purpose… a place where you could focus on a single calming sound.

And perhaps that calmness gave you courage to ask the question you wanted to ask the most.

“What are you going to do now, Alucard?” Your voice was hesitant. Fragile, even… “Erzsebet and Drolta are dead. Your five year mission is over…”

Of course, you knew he and the others had no responsibility over you. You were well aware. And yet, the simple thought of being left alone frightened you. The idea that Alucard would wake up tomorrow and simply go away, and the others would go back to Machecoul, and Annette would cross the ocean back to Saint-Domingue… all of that was frightening.

You wanted to be free, not alone.

And the thought that you might never see Alucard again was even more frightening.

Should you have been attached to him so easily after just a few days? Was that correct or normal? You had no idea. What you knew was that Alucard was the first person to offer kindness and protection and understanding, and you didn’t want him out of your life so soon.

But that was not up to you.

So all you could do was ask.

Alucard leaned on the railing too. He was closer this time. Just one step away, not two.

“I think I should be making this question.” He said softly. “What are you going to do now that you’re free?”

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped past your lips. That wasn’t funny, however.

“I don’t have a family. Or a past, or a name. I don’t know where I came from or where should I go next. I don’t know why my blood heals, why I can read this language, where did this scepter come from… I don’t know anything.” You hated how fragile and bitter your voice sounded, but that couldn’t be helped. “...Is this even freedom at all?”

Alucard kept silent for long, respectful moments.

Then, he sighed deeply.

“There is only one place in the world where we could decode this language.” He pointed towards the sun disk.

You looked at him with a frown.

“There is only one place in the world where we might find out why you heal… and where does your strange magic comes from.”

Expectation bubbled within your chest.

“What place is it?”

Alucard closed his eyes for a moment. It was just a glimpse, but you had the impression that he didn’t really like what he was about to say.

But then, he opened his eyes to look at you – and his golden irises had nothing but kindness and quiet care, and the lanterns cast a soft glow over his features and white hair, and truly – he was so beautiful that it was almost painful to look at.

“My home.” He tilted his head to the sides. “...What used to be my home, at least.” Alucard straightened his back. “I’m making you an invitation, Ruby.”

Your heart raced. Your mouth got dry. Your eyes widened slowly.

“Do you want to… help me?” You, for some reason, sounded amazed. Why is it? Has anyone been more willing to help you than Alucard?

Alucard smiled and nodded – and, at that moment, with that simple motion, he seemed to ease all the worries of your soul.

“I do. I will. Let’s find out who you really are, Ruby.” Alucard rested his hand over yours… and once again, it didn’t burn.

It warmed.

“Let’s go to Dracula’s castle.”

[elixrr]

“You seem down. What's wrong?” He asks, gazing at you. There's no doubt about it now that you long for him. You smile at him in an attempt to conceal your thoughts.

“I'm okay. I'm just a little tired.” You sigh, slumping your shoulders to hopefully convince him. The thing is, you know that it won't do anything to convince him, and you also know that he won't back off until you tell him the truth.

“Tired? Something else is wrong. Tell me, and I'll do what I can to help you.”

“No, no, please. I'm okay. I just need some time to rest.”

He purses his lips. Why are you lying to him? You watch his fingers press against the wood of the bench, the pressure obvious beneath his gloves.

“You can't lie to me. I know that there's something wrong. Tell me what it is. I want to help.”

You purse your lips, too. What can you say now? Telling him the truth will only hurt you and destroy the friendship you built with him. You're anxious, and you feel your own fingers pressing against the palms of your hands, and he watches the pressure turn your fingers white. He doesn't like it when you lie to him about your feelings. He knows that something's up, so why can't you tell him? What are you thinking about? Why can't you just say it?

“Why should I tell you?” You answer, shuffling away. The fabric of your clothes droop off the side of the bench, and the tall grass feathers around them.

“I want to help you.”

“Thank you, but why do you always want to help me? You aren't obligated to.”

“Do you not want my help?”

You don't answer that one. You can't. How do you explain that you do want his help, but you can't have him help you with this issue?

“I asked you a question first.”

“And I'll answer that once you answer me. Do you want my help or do you not?”

“I can't say.” You say, but you sounded more hurt than you intended. Actually, you didn't mean to sound hurt at all, but you can't risk this.

“You can't say? Why?”

“Look. I appreciate how much you help me and what to help me, but this issue—”

“So you did lie to me. What is it, and why don't you want me to know?”

You grit your teeth. “Let me finish! This issue is something that I need to deal with myself. This is something that I just can't explain to you, and you won't be able to help me.”

Now he's silent. Thinking about it now, this might be the first of many times that he hasn't been able to stick by your side since you met him. He's always been there one way or another, whether you wanted his help or not. He's probably thinking about that, too.

“We've been through a lot,” He starts, “and I... we did it together, right?”

“Right. I was thinking about that, too. The thing is, I do appreciate your help, but just this once, I need to deal with this alone.”

You look up at him. He looks distressed, like he needs to help you.

“Look. I'll be okay. I really do appreciate how you always want to help me, but just this once, okay?”

“I don't want you to be alone.”

You say nothing. Your lips form a thin line. You look down at your hands, pressing them together.

“I want to help you.” He doesn't give up. “Please. I want to be there for you.”

“Why?” Your heart both flutters and sinks.

“Why can't I help you this time?”

“Maybe this issue is internal. Maybe it's a me thing.”

“What?” He nearly shakes the entire bench. “Are you ill?”

“No, no, not like that. Just my own... I don't know, feelings?” You hope he doesn't get the hint, but you also hope that he doesn't ask anything else. He opens his mouth to speak. You know him too well to think that he won't say anything.

“...I still want to help.”

“It'd be much harder on you than it is for me.”

“Why?”

Your lips twitch. Did you say too much?

“We're talking about my own feelings. I've dealt with them all my life. I know you help me a lot, but I know that I can get through this. Actually, in all honesty, by telling you, I might put myself in an even rougher spot.”

Thankfully, he doesn't say anything. You hope that this shakes him off and that he doesn't realize that you like him.

The silence is a lot less comforting than you thought it'd be. You watch him in the corner of your eye. His eyes turn to you, but before he speaks, he looks away. He's pondering for sure, but you can't read his mind. What's he thinking about?

You look around the area. The prairie is never bustling at night. Actually, it's hardly ever busy, but there's not a single person in sight. You let him contemplate further, hoping that he leaves you alone.

“Do you... want to know why I want to help you?”

You look up at him. For the first time in front of you, he seems hesitant. Wordlessly, you nod.

“At first, I helped you because it just looked like you needed it. You were always kind to me about it, so I... I didn't mind it too much.”

You smile at the ground. He continues.

“But after a while, I never felt at ease knowing that you were alone out there. If you were in any danger, I felt like I had to find you and help you. Not because I was asked, and I know I wasn't ever obligated, but I couldn't rest knowing that you might be needing my help.”

“Is that why you decided to travel with me?”

“Yes, and there's something else.”

Your heart fluttered. You don't say anything, but you hope and pray that he likes you, too.

“I feel lighter with you. Around you, I feel... warm. It's awfully comfortable. I don't understand it fully, but I think I want to be with you for as long as I can.”

Your face forms a wide smile and tears start to well up in your eyes. He jolts, but reaches out to wipe your tears.

“Do you really feel that way?” You choke through your tears. He takes you by your shoulders and nods eagerly.

“Yes.” He says, sounding genuine and devoted, “I don't feel like this with anybody else.”

“You really, really feel that way?”

He struggles to hide a smile, “Yes.”

You laugh, covering your mouth despite the tears wetting your hands, and you don't stop crying. He holds you in his hands, trying his best to wipe your tears away.

“This— this is what I've been so worried about.” You cry into your hands as he tries to wipe your face. His eyes shoot up at you.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I like you, and I've been worried all this time that you—” you take a moment to breathe, “–you wouldn't like me back.”

You fail to notice, but he's unable to wipe your tears. Your tears aren't soaking in his gloves, but his gloves pass right through them. He doesn't seem to notice, either.

“Then,” he says, finally smiling, “I'm glad that I told you this.”

You reach out to hug him, but you stop smiling. You don't hug him, instead, he phases right through you. You don't even try to look back because you know he's not there.

You look down at your phone. It's fake. It's just a fanfiction again. You wipe your face, drenching your own hands with your tears. You've stopped smiling by now. It hurts.

It hurts so bad.

Why can't he be real?

Why?

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[hiddenavenues]

Where Boundaries Blur and Desires Go Unspoken

Logan Howlett/GN!Reader MDNI 18+

a/n: I can't tell if this is good or not because I have proofread it so much... so I'm banking on you guys letting me know. Also, happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!

CW: Mean!Logan, Logan's got some control issues, angst w/ comfort sex, yelling, jealousy, Explicit sexual content, degration if you squint, Cunnilingus, P in V, Aftercare

"How many times do I have to say no before it sinks into your thick skull?" Logan's voice was dangerously low, venom dripping off each word as he stood between you and the jet doors.

You have been arguing since you woke up this morning about a mission you want to take part in. Charles had invited you, said you were ready, and that it'd be an excellent first mission, but Logan thought otherwise. When you told him about it a few days ago, you assumed his immediate no was him being a protective mother hen, but now you see it's more than that. 

"You better not be talking to me like that, Logan." You bite out, voice thick with anger. Logan had been dodgy about what he wanted between you, some days gifting you flowers from missions, other times knocking on your bedroom door late at night with nothing pure in his intentions. 

Logan let out a bitter laugh, leaning down to be at eye level with you. "No one wants you on this mission. You're inexperienced, a risk to us all, and just as likely to kill one of us as the enemy." You sneered at him, a low growl ripping from your throat as a steady ache grew in your chest. Logan turned on his heel as if you were nothing to him, dismissing you with a look before striding toward the jet.

You walked after him, nails digging into the flesh of your palms in an effort to calm your rage. "How am I supposed to get experience if you throw a tantrum whenever I want to go? I am ready. I want to help." Logan stopped and turned to face you outside the jetbridge.

"Ready?" He scoffs. "You're not ready for this, and you never will be. You're a liability, and the only reason Charles invited you is because he's too soft to see what a mistake it is." His voice was louder now, and as much as you wished Jean and Storm wouldn't listen, you knew they were hearing every word. "You think this is about me being overprotective? No, I just don't want to have to drag your dead weight back in a body bag." Without giving you time for a rebuttal, Logan turned his back to you and walked up the jetbride, Jean and Storm giving you a sad smile from inside. 

You felt your face crumple as his words hit home; burying his claws in your chest would've hurt less. A ringing in your ears grew louder by the second, nearly drowning out the deafening hum of the jet turbines. "Go ahead, leave. I won't be waiting for you when you come back." Your voice broke with emotion as you shouted at him, but you held your head high and your spine straight as you walked away. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your back, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of turning around. 

Your blood was on fire, molten lava coursing through your veins. You waited for the doors out of the jet bay to slide shut behind you before sending your first into the wall, a colourful flow of curses following. He never spoke to you like that, as if you were nothing more than dirt under his shoe. Your chest felt like it could cave in any second; the uniform you had so excitedly pulled on this morning for your first mission felt stupid now, like you were wearing a costume you'd never grow into. 

Your thoughts continued to spiral as you took the elevator up to the main levels of the house. Logan's words echoed through your mind. You're a liability. It felt as though only a husk of yourself was walking through the halls, the warm sunny day outside mocking you.

As if the day couldn't get any worse, Scott rounded the corner before you, brows raised upon seeing you. "Chickened out so soon? You wouldn't shut up about it earlier." Scott asked, concern etched into his forehead as he watched you. You have grown close since you arrived at the school nearly two years ago. You always helped each other through everything, pinging opinions off each other over any decision, big or small. Scott almost ripped your head off when he first heard about you and Logan, saying how selfish, annoying, and mean he always is. Maybe he was right. 

You sigh, a knot forming in your throat at the thought of explaining your encounter with Logan. Scott must have seen the misery on your face because before you knew it, he was taking your hand and leading you to the kitchen, plopping you down on a chair at the table. While he made the two of you something to drink, you told him about the fight with Logan, trying your best not to break down where someone could easily walk in. 

Scott slid a mug of hot chocolate across the table, settling into his chair with a cool, calculating look. “So, how’re you gonna get him back?” His voice was steady, but the cold anger in his eyes was unmistakable.

You bristled at the question, revenge being the furthest thing from your mind. “I’m not,” you replied sharply, shaking your head.

"Oh, come on, someone has to put kitty cat in his place. From the sounds of it, you have the upper hand." His grin widened as confusion flickered across your face. "Don't tell me you can't see it? Logan’s so fucked up that he thinks hurting you to keep you off the mission is protecting you. He's shown his entire hand." Scott leaned forward on his elbows, eyes locked on yours. "So I'll ask again. How're you gonna get him back?" 

For a moment, you hesitated, Scott’s words sinking in. Logan had always been possessive, scaring off any guy who got too close for his liking. Even though you weren’t officially together, he’d growl at anyone who dared approach, flashing an innocent look your way whenever you caught him.

"Actually,” A grin creeps across your face. “I think I might have an idea." 

-

You wake to the sound of the jet returning from its mission, early morning light seeping through the windows as you pad down the hall to Scott's bedroom door. It opens on the first knock to reveal Scott, face puffy and eyes heavy with sleep. 

You brush past him into the room and stand before his mirror, fussing your hair and rubbing your eyes to pull this charade off as Scott flops back into bed. You tug at your clothes, trying your best to look freshly fucked before turning to face Scott, whose eyes were so lidded with sleep you wondered if he'd remember any of this. 

"So, how do I look?" You ask, giving him a spin. 

Scott huffs a laugh. "Honestly? Dishevelled. You're missing the afterglow, but otherwise, you'd fool even me into thinking you had the fuck of your life in here." 

"Only in your dreams." The sound of creaking stairs silenced your banter as you listened to Logan making his way to his room. 

"Ah-ah-ah, be careful, kitty's got special hearing. Don't wanna foil your plan so soon, do ya?" Scott whispered, giving you a wink before tucking back into bed, content to go back to sleep, utterly ignorant to your heart's racing. You sucked in a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into the dark hallway.

You hear more than see Logan's steps stutter against the carpeted flooring as you shut Scott's door behind you, feigning surprise when you spot him in front of you. "Shit! You snuck up on me." You feign surprise, letting a nervous laugh follow your words, eyes flickering from his to the floor. 

Logan's face was unreadable. His eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you with something like hurt in his eyes. His gaze darted from your face to the room you had just come out of, the puzzle pieces in his mind slowly clicking together. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity before Logan grabbed your arm and dragged you across the hall into his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

"What the fuck.” He growls, pinning you against the bedroom door. “I tell you ‘no’ one time, and you go spreading your legs to anyone?" 

"Oh, someone's jealous, hm?" You tease, heartbeat loud in your ears as your breath comes in hot pants. Logan’s eyes darken with desire, his nostrils flaring as he catches the scent of your arousal coating your thighs.

"Oh, you preening slut." He mocks, pressing his chest further into yours, firmly crushing you into the door. "Straight from Scott's bed to mine? You didn't even make it two steps, baby." His voice filled with condescension. You hold back a whimper at his words, making a point to look at anything but his eyes. Bringing a hand to your chin, Logan forces your gaze on his. "Funny thing is, the only sex I smell on you is your own, and we both know Scott’s too scared to touch what’s mine." Your breath catches in your throat as Logan's knee nudges between yours, pressing into your heat. 

"Admit it, you only threw a fit yesterday because you care about me. You don't want me out there 'cause the idea of me getting hurt scares you." You say, breathless and flushed, lust fogging your mind as Logan begins to grind you down on his thigh. You can't stop your hips from bucking against him, desperate for any friction.

Your gasps and whines of pleasure fill the room as you grind yourself on his thigh. Your breath mingles with his as a coil winds itself in your core, tightening with each roll of your hips. A loud whimper falls from your lips as Logan stills your movement before picking you up, bringing you to his bed and tossing you on the blankets. 

With your back to the mattress, Logan kneels between your thighs, your clothed cunt inches from his face. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say about that, hun.” He whispers as his fingers brush the skin above your waistband. Even as your mind swims from the intensity of his gaze, you can easily spot a blush coating his cheeks.

“Fucking bullshit,” You breathe, hands darting out to slip your pants down. “I know you want me. I know you were jealous when you saw me coming out of Scott’s room. If this were ‘just sex,’ you wouldn’t give a shit who I fuck, Logan.” The hand he has on your abdomen starts toying with your waistband, eyes watching your face intensely. “You’re so scared you might be able to love me that you don’t let yourself do anything more than bed me and throw me out after and act like you don’t give a fuck.”

The room was silent, your words echoing against the walls. Your breathing was loud in your ears as you held each other's gaze. It felt like a millennia passed before Logan replied.

“Here’s the plan.” The timbre in his voice had you clenching your thighs together. “I’m gonna fuck you, gonna have you cryin’ for me, and only after I have you fucked stupid in my bed ‘n wearing my shirt.” Logan’s hand trails down to your knee, placing a large hand on your thigh. “Only then do I plan on being any kinda ‘boyfriend material.’”

You nod eagerly, head falling to your shoulder as Logan’s fingers lazily finish tugging down your pants, exposing your lack of underthings to him. Logan’s eyes blaze with lust, hands sliding up your thighs to hold your hips still. You nearly moan at the sight of him, eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly agape, and your thighs resting on his powerful shoulders. His breath is hot on your naked heat as he hovers inches above you, teasing you with his mouth. A breathy moan escapes your lips as Logan presses wet kisses to your core.

Logan was immortal, and god did his oral prove it. Before long, he has you moaning and writhing against him with your hand tangled in his hair. Each tug of his hair earns you a deep growl as he devours your cunt, juices coating his face. Your breath is uneven as your back bows off the mattress.

“Fuck Logan, I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!” You shout, a familiar coil winding in your core as Logan continues lapping at your clit. You pull Logan further into your cunt, needing him closer, deeper. The coil snaps, waves of white hot pleasure wracking your body as your mouth falls to form a silent ‘O’. Logan’s eyes watch you intently as you come back down, waiting for you to start pushing him away before he dares to stop ravaging you. Panting, you slump into the mattress, mind reeling as Logan kisses up your body before bringing his mouth to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Did so good, so good for me. Need you to give me a few more mk?” Logan whispered into your neck as he positioned himself above you. You nod at him as you reach for his belt, hands making quick work of the buckle before eagerly unzipping and yanking his pants down. The tent in his boxers looked painfully tight; the sight alone nearly had your mouth watering. You let out an unsteady breath as your hand caresses his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, Logan’s responding moan nothing but predatory. 

“Don’t get bratty, or I’ll fuck you so loud the entire school will know who’s cock your creaming on.” Logan has his boxers pulled down before he finishes his sentence, cock slapping against his abdomen and a bead of pre-cum rolling down the head. Your eyes are glued to his cock as he begins slowly stroking himself. You grind into nothing, desperate for any friction, while Logan reaches into his bedside table to pull out a rubber, giving you a wink as if to say hey, safe sex is great sex.

Resting his forehead on your shoulder, Logan aligns himself with you, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. “Tell me when you’re ready, baby,” he whispers, pressing tender kisses along your neck. You give him the go-ahead with a slight nod, and Logan slowly eases into you. His breath shudders against your skin, a low moan escaping you in response.

He pauses, giving your body time to adjust. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it, but something about this was different than your usual bedding habits: softer, less angry. When you finally beg him to move, Logan obliges, filling you with a steady, measured rhythm that leaves you gasping for more.

Each thrust has the bed shaking, the frame groaning with each piston of Logan’s hips. Your cunt sucks him in eagerly, the sound of your soaked sex embarrassingly loud in your ears as Logan increases his pace.

“No one else makes you feel this good, right bub?” Logan’s voice is breathy and muffled as he kisses your chest, sucking love bites into any exposed skin. You moan loudly, pussy clenching around him in response as your mind fails to find words to reply. You’re drunk off his cock, obsessed with the drag of him against your core, each thrust deeper than the last. You claw at his back as his thrusts grow sloppy, both of your moans turning feral and broken as a familiar burn grows low in your abdomen.

“G’nna cum, sweetheart,” Logan pants, moans bouncing off the walls of his room. “Taking me so well, g’nna fill you up, baby.”

“Fuck Lo, please, please.” Your words descend into indistinguishable mumbling as the fire in your abdomen spreads down your thighs, burning hotter with each slap of Logan's hips. Fire sears through your veins, and distantly you can hear yourself screaming, moaning, and babbling beneath Logan as he fucks you relentlessly into the mattress. His cock fills you, rocking deliciously into the spongey spot deep inside that has you seeing stars. 

“Oh, fuck-” A moan rips from Logan’s chest as his hips stutter, his release coating your thighs. Logan’s pace doesn’t slow, instead rubbing frantic circles into your clit. “C’mon baby cum for me.” The pressure in your abdomen builds before crashing down, your walls spasming around his already overstimulated cock. Your back arches off the bed as Logan kisses you desperately, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

You pull away, resting your forehead against his as both of you catch your breath. In the dim light of the bedroom, Logan looked almost ethereal, his hair tousled from your fingers, pupils blown wide as he gazes at you with a softness you’ve never seen. With a low groan, Logan carefully pulls out of you, allowing your trembling legs to relax against the bed before quietly muttering something about the washroom.

Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion and overstimulation threatening to pull you into sleep. Moments later, the sensation of something warm and soft against your skin made you stir, a quiet whine escaping you.

“Shhh, it’s alright, love. Just cleaning you up, that’s all.” Logan’s hand gently steadies your hips, stopping your squirming as he cleans you up. Once he’s done, he helps you into one of his shirts and tucks the blanket around you. A thought flickers through your mind- this is the first time Logan’s slept next to you after sex, typically insisting he sleep on the couch or carry you to your room. You mutter a thank you into his chest, fighting the pull of sleep.

Logan plants a kiss on your forehead as his arms envelop you. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up,”

You hum quietly, “Really getting the whole boyfriend experience, aren’t I?” Even with his enhanced hearing, he has to strain to catch your words as drowsiness pulls you under. 

Logan listens to your breathing even out, sleep taking over your mind as he sighs into the comfort of your embrace. “Who said this couldn’t be permanent?” He whispers to the room, hoping to find the confidence to tell you in the morning.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed<3

[gatheringbones]

If I'm 23 and have never been in a sexual or romantic relationship, is there a point in trying? I feel like I missed the boat on developing the skills necessary to make either of those things work, and it'd be selfish of me to expect others to hold themselves back so I can unlearn all of my emotional and sexual issues with them. Part of me feels like it's possible to unlearn all of that by myself, but another part feels like it's like any other two-person activity and no amount of solo practice can really prepare you for actually engaging with another person. And honestly, it just hurts that I'm this old and this far behind, that there's this whole side of the world that I haven't experienced, these whole new facets of people's inner worlds and intimacies that I haven't been exposed to. I feel like I have only a very surface-level relationships with even my platonic friends because I don't actually understand or relate to anything going on in their romantic or sexual lives. Like I'm an overgrown child. It doesn't help that I'm very isolated by the material conditions of my life and I can't see those changing anytime soon. I dunno. I realize that I'm just demonstrating all of the negative traits you were talking about and that I'd just be using a partner as a tool for my own masturbatory self-aggrandizement (i.e. caring more about wanting to float around in a sea of my own feelings instead of forming an actual connection to another human being.) It just sucks to admit the truth that I have to become a whole person before I can stop being alone and that it'll probably take me like years before that happens and then I'll be a thirty year-old virgin in a world of people looking for someone to settle down with that I'm going to have to ask to be the equivalent of a high-school fling. I'm sorry for ranting in your inbox, I guess if anything it's a good indication that your post struck a nerve in the insecure do-nothing fandom lol

I realized partway through reading this that what you are reacting to in such horror is in many ways the story of my life and I found it very funny. when I reached the part about the terrifying fate of being a 30 year old virgin I laughed so hard I scared the dog.

I met c when I was twenty nine. my life was unrelenting isolation and horror. I’d kissed all of three people. I didn’t stop being a quote unquote virgin until six months into our relationship. I spent most of my twenties doing exactly what you described: floating through the motions of dating using other human beings to play out preconceived ideas about myself that only left me bored and bewildered. Everyone I met was doing the exact same. We treated each other abysmally; like objects.

then I kept looking and kept throwing out my net and c showed up (because she was looking and throwing out her net). your question made me so exuberant with joy I upset the senior citizen chaweenie mix she adopted five years before she ever met me.

everything will turn out all right.

[flowersandmiel]

I've finally met Hunted during his main chapter The Beast (I'd only met him during The Eye of the Needle and the chapters where they're all here) AND OMG I LOVE HIM SM??

Not judging or anything (/gen), but I'd only seen him be characterized in fics with this sort of "overwhelmed and animalistic anxiety" in fics, instead of what I would describe as a "hypervigilant and quick-thinking survival-driven fear" during the Eye of the Needle. And it just kinda confused me bc like, how could he act so different in Eye of needle compared to the Beast and Den?? But that's the thing, he doesn't, the fic just weren't accurate /nm (i still loved those fics btw /gen)

it just reminds me of this post about Paranoid i reposted not long ago about how fandom tends to stick to one character trait of a character and overly exaggerate it to the point it's almost mischaracterizing said character.

and it also reminds me of another character from another fandom who's a bird-like creature too, and they both get mischaracterized in that similar sort of dehumanizing way?

I'm not sure how to explain but i'll try

Basically, It's just so obvious that the author loves the fact that the character is bird-like, that they do not realise that they're kinda 'feti$hising' them??

And like, i've got nothing about letting a half-human half-animal character lean into their animal instincts, but I find it strange how many people do not realise the way they write it is just not believable at all. You can have a character lean into their bird side without having them be dehumanized and infantilized by the narrative. They're not an animal, they're part animal.

Idk, maybe it's because I grew up being dehumanised and infantilised, but if I was part animal/part human, and that i needed to let myself lean into my instincts, I wouldn't take well being treated by my friends as if I'm only an animal???? Or called 'birdie' or shit like that??? Like, i know i don't like pet names in general, but i can't be the only one who find calling a half bird half human character 'birdie' kinda weird?? I'm sure most mean it in a very sweet way btw, but i always think that if i was a half cat half human, and i was called 'catgirl' or 'kitty', i wouldn't take it well lmao?? even as teasing???

Kinda reminds me of how dehumanized and infantilized disabled people are. Having "animalistic behaviors" does not make one less human. idk how else to say it.

I'm not sure I'm making any sense, i've seen nobody talk about this and it makes me feel kinda lonely ngl x,)

I just needed to ramble a bit about it, it's not an "issue" only related to STP btw, which is why im talking about it actually xP it's weird how many fandoms i've seen this phenomenon in. I know many people only create art for fun and simply do not care about believability, and they have every right to do so, but sometimes i think that some people just genuinely do not think about it because nobody talks about it!! I'm only sharing this in hope that I can make authors self-reflect a bit so they can write "better" :)

Just, remember please. You're writing characters with consciousness. They're not animals, they're not birds, they're not just their instincts, they're not just their wings. Even while being chased, Hunted isn't nothing more than his instincts, he's clever, a quick-thinker, observant, worried, has good reflexes, takes risks, his voice is soft, maybe he'd even be delicate if he wasn't being chased! and many others! He's more than his name, than his title, than his instincts. He's not just a prey, he's a Voice, created to help us survive and out of fear of the Princess.

(btw im not using examples i've seen in fics bc i think it'd be rude af to do that.)(i've still mostly enjoyed the fics i've read that had this problems btw <3, i just couldn't get it out of my head and i hate that i see nobody speaking about it so, here i am ig!)

[creatingblackcharacters]

hey there! so, im making a character who's Black, anddd i need help with them. badly so.

(sorry in advance bc this character isnt That developed or at least not as much as other OCs i have)

alright, they're an afab teen under the non-binary umbrella (im not sure on what gender i should give them). they're in a friend group with two other teens, one of whom found out she's trans, and that made them go like "wait maybe im not cis". they live in an extremely conservative christian town, and they're one of the few black kids there (it's an awful place to live, i make that very clear), which makes it so that they're not very connected with LGBTQ not POC communities - which is why their friend was the one who introduced queerness to them. they're the quietest of their friend group, quite autism coded but i dont think I'll really specify it, and they're a pretty normal kid all things considered (a bit of a self-insert personality wise lol)

when i first thought this character's gender arc, as the story will be very visual (animatics probably), i thought of them experimenting with gender by trying on their older brother's clothes. seeing they like how it looks, they decide to pick up a pack of scissors and cut their hair themself.

now, i remembered "oh fuck, POC usually don't like to have their hair messed with do they?" (i have read a bunch of posts abt that so im 99% certain lol-), then noticed how white the whole arc looks (i need more contact with POC i live in White Hell i have no other reference ;;), and that kinda discouraged me from writing them to the point i almost scrapped the whole character arc and even the concept- which is also why they're not as developed as they should be.

now, the actual question! how to write their transition arc, while also remaining respectful and realistic? also, have you noticed anything in this ask that's kinda fucked up, and how can i fix it if so? im doing my best to represent many groups of ppl with my OCs and i want to be accurate sorry if this ask is very long ;;

thank you so much for answering, and thank you for this blog!! you're very cool :)

So first, I deeply want to apologize for how late I am on answering this. I didn't want to answer without being informed, but I also know how much you want advice.

First, if this character is Black, say "Black" not "POC". Even in your head, start making that decision to be specific every time. We have a specific identity, we are not every man, and it's annoying to be referred to so generally when we have an identity.

For the hair part, check out this lesson. If your character decided to cut their hair off themselves, then it's not exactly an issue- it's their hair! It'd be different if it was someone they didn't know and trust touching their hair. You may feel free to refer to my entire syllabus if you want to do the reading to see if there's anything else you may have missed!

As for your question on their transition, this is the part that I was wavering on answering, because I'm currently doing the reading myself for a lesson I'm writing. So at the moment, all I can really say is to read narratives about and by Black trans people, and what that meant for them! That's a cool list I just found, I'm gonna save it for later as a reference.

It's not going to be received the same way as a white person transitioning, no; perception of gender identity and expression are going to be different depending on who's looking. For example, what does 'Black androgyny' look like to white people if they already believe that we have 'masculine' features? Thus the existence of the term 'stud'. Or how long hair is deemed feminine, but there are plenty of Black and Indigenous people whose hair growth is essential to their identity and has nothing to do with "making them girly".

I think what I plan on getting into more detail on in my lesson- and what you'll need to understand- is that following or even subverting gender "norms" is dependent upon what those cultural norms are, and how they might conflict at times. So to write a respectful narrative, you're going to have to understand what it means to live at that intersection. I hope this all made sense 😅 this is why I'm not confident in that lesson yet.

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Guide, 2/28/2025 Issue ft. No.1 Sentai Gozyuger Main Cast Member Interviews (translation below)

Publication: February 12, 2025 (before broadcast start)

Gozyugers -Who has the "number one" hero pose?-

Fuyuno Mio (Tono Hoeru/GozyuWolf)

I don't have much experience in acting, and I'm feeling all kinds of pressure, but I believe one of my strengths is my willingness to go after what I lack, so I'd like to maintain this attitude for the next year and improve my performance.

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: Samurai Sentai Shinkenger. Writing kanji characters in the air, and then transforming through the power of kanji……it left an impression on me, so I remember it well.

Suzuki Hideharu (Byakuya Rikuo/GozyuLeon)

There's still alot of things I'm not good enough at, but I'll be required to act, do action, and do post recording on this set, and since I'm playing the role of a former idol, I'll likely have to sing and dance. Because there's alot to learn, I believe that I'll grow, and I hope that my growth will help to move this production in the right direction.

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: GoGo Sentai Boukenger. I was excited when I learned that Action Director Fukuzawa-san was BoukenRed's Suit Actor.

Kanda Masakazu (Bakugami Ryugi/GozyuTyranno)

First, I hope that this production reaches many people, and I'll do my best with that single thought in mind. Then, I'd like to learn action and post recording through filming so that I can make the most out of it in my future career as an actor. I'd also like to learn from all the cast members so that I can grow twice as much.

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: I watched Seiju Sentai Gingaman as it aired. I also watched Ninja Sentai Kakuranger together with my older brother.

Matsumoto Jin (Takehara Kinjiro/GozyuEagle)

I hope that each and every one of us, myself included, can create characters that people will be happy to see appearing on screen. And then, just like how I myself was as a child, I hope that we can all work together to create a production that'll make people want to sit in front of the TV at the exact time the program starts.

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger. I liked toys, so I would collect the Ranger Keys.

Imamori Maya (Ichikawa Sumino/GozyuUnicorn)

I want to make sure that everyone who watches the show is thrilled and excited each and every week. For my role as Ichikawa Sumino, I'll be consulting as well as discussing things with the cast and staff, and I hope that we can present you with a production where every single moment is wonderful.

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: Shinkenger. My older sister was studying kanji at the time of its broadcast, and the Shinkengers would fight by writing kanji that could be found in her workbooks. I remember that well.

Q: Who among you is the most heroic?

Imamori: I think each one of us has aspects that make us heroic.

Matsumoto: In terms of reliability, it'd probably be Masa-kun.

Fuyuno Suzuki Imamori: We know what you mean.

Suzuki: He's very kind. I have no acting experience, and my nerves were already shot when filming began, but Masakazu-kun called out from behind me during filming and said, "Don't worry, go on, you got this." I thought he was a hero for doing that, and it made me happy knowing that I'd be involved in the same production with such a kind person.

Kanda: Keep talking (laughs).

Matsumoto: Then there's Mio-kun. He's positioned as Red, so his turn to perform comes up quite often, which must also put him under alot of pressure, and yet….

Suzuki: He never looks like he's having a hard time, and will always smile at you. He's both tough and reassuring, so in that sense, he's the most heroic.

Fuyuno: (said shyly) Really?

Kanada: It seems like there's a side of him that changes once he gets into his role.

Suzuki: Lately, Mio's facial expressions have been different compared to when we first started filming. I could feel it just by watching you through the monitor.

Kanada Matsumoto Imamori: (they nod in agreement).

Fuyuno: Thank you so much (laughs). _

No One World Buraidan -Who has the "number one" villain pose?-

Sambongi Daisuke (Fire Candle)

Personally, I'd like to see spinoffs made for each character, but first, it's important for the children who watch the show to admire us and have dreams. So, I hope that tons of children will buy the toys. If they like the show, they'll want to buy them, so please buy them (laughs).

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: The first one I watched was Kakuranger. The most memorable one is Gingaman. I love its opening song. I'll often imitate Gingaman's poses and running style.

Marupi (Bouquet)

It's my greatest pleasure to say that Bouquet's visuals are "number one" in leaving an impact, but I want to be an actor who can leave an even greater impact than that. I want to create a production that'll make lots of people think, "Watching Gozyuger made me happy," and I have confidence that this team can do it.

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: Mahou Sentai Magiranger, as it's a story about a family who stand together. I remember it well because I love my own family.

Karuma (Kuon)

With it being a 50th anniversary production, there'll be a festive atmosphere, and I feel that it's to be expected that irregular things will frequently occur, but I think we can exceed expectations, and I want to be apart of that. I'm looking forward to learning what kind of person Kuon is, and having others get to know him as well.

Q: Which heroes do you admire? A: I watched Hyakujuu Sentai Gaoranger, Ninpu Sentai Hurricanger, and Bakuryu Sentai Abaranger. I'm currently listening to Hurricanger's opening song.

Q: Who among you is the most villainous?

Sambongi: You mean someone who looks like they're plotting something? We would've liked to have named someone who's heroic too… (laughs). Still, each of them is carefully thinking about the role they play. I can often sense that on set.

Marupi: The impression I have of Fire Candle-san is that he's someone who's just a passionate idiot, but I can tell from his performance that he's not a character that can be described in a few words, and I think the viewers will understand that. I'm also playing the role of Bouquet with the hope of delivering a surprise that you wouldn't imagine from her appearance, with the same going for Kuon too…

Karuma: He's a mysterious character, so I can't just say things like, "He looks like this, but is actually…" (laughs).

Marupi: We're all thinking about how to present our roles (laughs). _

Special Talk

"Please tell us how you felt when you were chosen to perform."

Fuyuno: I've admired heroes since I was a child, so I was happy, but at the same time, I felt pressure.

Suzuki: I grew up watching the Super Sentai series and saw them as my role models, so I was beyond surprised to find out that I would be apart of it. It wasn't until filming began, and I got on set to strike my transformation pose that I actually felt it.

Kanada: I was suddenly called into the office, told that I had been chosen to appear in the show, and was congratulated, but I was simultaneously happy, under pressure, and confused as to why they had decided to surprise me with it.

Matsumoto: I loved hero shows and would wake up on Sunday mornings just in time for them to start. It was exciting to think that I'd be seen as a hero by children who, like me at the time, wait excitedly in front of the TV.

Imamori: When the decision was made, I was so happy that I cried, as I couldn't believe it. I still feel like I'm dreaming, but I'd like to create a good show while discussing it with everyone.

Sambongi: When I was selected to appear, I thought the times had caught up with me (laughs). After that I thought, "I guess it was fate." Rather than being nervous or happy, I thought, "This is where it all starts."

Marupi: First, I couldn't believe it, but at the same time, I was determined to live up to the honor of being chosen to be apart of the 50th anniversary production. When I was chosen, I felt that 2025 would be the best year ever, so I want to return the favor.

Karuma: When I got the offer, I thought it was a mistake (laughs). I can't say anything right now about Kuon's character or how he'll influence the story (bitter smile), but I was happy to have been given such a role.

"In reference to the title, please tell us the number one person among the eight of you. Who's the number one morning person?"

Sambongi: If you've ever been late, be honest and come forward!

Marupi: Not me (laughs).

Imamori: Mio-kun comes to the studio very early, doesn't he? In addition, while everyone else sleeps on the bus on the way to the filming location, he continues to talk (laughs).

Matsumoto: It's like an unwritten rule, if you have to sit next to him on the bus, you better be ready to talk (laughs).

Fuyuno: I'm just trying to live each day to the fullest.

Suzuki: How cool (laughs).

"Who's the number one eater?"

Everyone: That would be…(they all look at Matsumoto).

Suzuki: I'm always eating the food prepared by catering.

Imamori: If I have alittle free time during filming, I'll sneak over to the catering area.

Kanada: You were holding some potato chips yesterday (laughs).

"And now, who's the number one person with leadership skills?"

Matsumoto: The five Gozyuger members are usually together, but when the time for filming approaches, Masa-kun often calls out to those around him by saying, "Shall we go now?"

Kanada: It's just that I'm abit of a cautious person, and tend to think that I shouldn't be late and need to start moving ahead of time. Well, I may be the leader in terms of pulling things along as a timekeeper, but Mio's the leader in terms of pulling things along on set and creating the mood, wouldn't you say?

Matsumoto: Mio naturally takes the initiative, and everyone will gather around him.

Fuyuno: I'm not trying to take on a leadership role though. Since one of our themes is being "outcasts," I think it's fine for each of us to be independent.

Karuma: You guys may never come together and remain separated.

Marupi: Wouldn't you lose members? (laughs).

Sambongi: It'd end up being a two person Sentai (laughs).

Kanada: If that continues, instead of number one, it'll become "only one Sentai" (laughs).

[creepswrites]

Hi, I just read your hcs about reader struggling with anxiety and depression, it was really great! I am also sorry you're going through tough times rn, I really really hope you'll feel better soon. Tbh I've been going through something myself and reading the Sinclair brothers' hcs, it reminded me of an idea I've wanted to eequest for a long while. I would like to request for the Siclair brothers (separately) x gn!reader headcanons where the reader struggles with mental health issues, but since they don't really leave Ambrose they can't get to their medication. How would they approach the brothers about it, would they hide it, how would the brothers react, you know.

Of course you can work on this when you feel like it, if you're not feeling like it with what's going on in your life. Or scrap the idea altogether, or add whoever you want. Thank you so much for letting me get my thoughts out tho <3 You are valid. You are loved. You are seen.

thank you for the kind wishes, i do appreciate it :) i tried to keep this relatively inclusive as to what exactly reader is suffering from but some stuff may be a lil specific. and don't worry, writing helps distract me so i'm happy to do this <3

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN! READER WHO NEEDS THEIR MEDICATION

BO SINCLAIR

You absolutely tried to hide it at first. How could you not?

Bo wasn't exactly... understanding about that kind of thing

I mean, you've seen how he acts with Vincent sometimes and thats his own brother. You don't want to imagine how he'd treat you if he knew...

But you knew the longer you went without your prescriptions, the more difficult things would get

It started small. Your moods would change randomly and very drastically - one extreme to another or you'd have trouble sleeping or oversleeping or - your least favorite - you'd lash out at one of the brothers for seemingly nothing

Bo noticed. He didn't say anything about it because he assumed that, if it was that important, you'd tell him

So when you had a full on meltdown on the kitchen floor one afternoon, he was blindsided

He had no idea it'd gotten this bad and, unfortunately, his first reaction was to get mad at you. He yelled at you, tried to get you to pull yourself together. After all, if you had been suffering, you would've told him! Right...?

It's not until your crying abruptly stops that he realizes he fucked up. You shut down on him, near catatonic as he tries to apologize

He's scared. And when he's scared, he lashes out. You know that. It still doesn't make it hurt less

The brothers agree that there needs to be regular trips made so you can get your medication. Lester offers to take you since he's the one who goes to town the most anyways

You and Bo get into an argument about it once or twice because he doesn't understand why you wouldn't tell him

His heart breaks a little when you tell him you didn't think he'd believe you or would look at you differently for it

He reassures you that no, never. He totally understands the moodswings, the angry episodes you have, those things

Once you're on your meds again, you two promise that if anything major like this happens for either of you, that you can always lean on each other

Bo takes time getting there but he grows to understand you and figure out how best to help you!

VINCENT SINCLAIR

You tell Vincent pretty early on that you need medication

While you don't give him many specifics as to why, you tell him that life will be better for all of you if you keep taking them

At first he's a little apprehensive of letting you go into town so Bo goes with you to pick it up

Not because he doesn't believe you! But because he's scared you're still trying to escape

He wants to know what they're for so he's not above snooping around to read the labels

(You'd tell him if he asked but he didn't know that)

The amount you take surprises him and he tries to think about what you're like off them, in a morbidly curious way

He is, however, insistent that you're taking them consistently and without interruption. Vince makes sure you take them every day and gets on his brother's cases if they give you a hard time about it

They're not cures though. You both find that out the hard way when he finds you trembling in the corner of his shop like you were in freezing weather. The panic attack was violent and took you by surprise but Vincent holds steady

He sits with you, humming soft melodies to try and ground you

When you're ready, he hugs you and you just break down into tears. You'd never wanted him to have to see you like this, you don't want him to think you're some fragile china doll who can't take care of themself

But he would never see you like that. You explain that, while the meds make them less frequent, you're not cured completely

Things will slip through the cracks sometimes and that's okay! He'll always be there when you need him

When he catches you scratching yourself anxiously, he buys you gloves and makes sure you keep your nails short

He catches you picking at your face and gets you small bandages you can place over the spots so you don't obsessively pick

Vincent is always doing little things to try and improve your quality of life, even if you're taking medication!

LESTER SINCLAIR

You don't really tell him but you also don't hide it from him either

He notices you taking pills every morning and every night and is able to put two and two together

Probably asks you what they're for once you two have been dating for a bit but it doesn't really change much in your relationship

He's relatively chill about it though and offers to take you into town to pick up your meds

Likes to hoard pills for you so you never run out - it's an irrational fear of his but you think its sweet

Whenever you get sad, Jonesy and Lester are both right there to comfort you however you need

Sometimes, when the bad thoughts get too loud, Lester catches you staring vacantly into the bathroom mirror or out windows and he worries

One night you wandered out into the woods, barefoot and freezing, just because you felt so out of touch with your own body

Everything felt fake and floaty and you just needed to be out somewhere harsh and grounding and real

You love Lester, you really do, but there, in the forest all alone, all you could think about was how empty you felt

He finds you early the next morning and he was clearly worried sick, still in his sleep clothes with just a flashlight and an anxious Jonesy

Once at home and warm from your shower, he pleads with you to talk to him about it

You finally spill about how you've felt completely dissociated from yourself, even with all the meds you're taking, and it just got to be too much

He gives you a hug and you both agree to try and find other ways to shock you back to reality that don't involve you wandering into the forest at night

Turns out, an ice cube on the back of the neck works wonders to snap you out of whatever stupor you've found yourself in!

Lester is as involved with it as you'd let him. Never ashamed or afraid to lend you a hand with anything!

[tawked]

I know we're all real big "read the comics" fans here but, considering the show is now 32 years old and many people in the Batman fandom might not know about it -

if you do not want to read the comics, might I recommend the massively acclaimed Batman animated series from the 90s instead?

Seriously, room-temperature take: it's better than what was going on in the comics at the time.

DCAU Batman: kind, empathetic but still troubled and a little self-centered at times. He understands even scary dangerous mentally ill people are not beyond help and that what they really need is support and care. He actively tries to resolve every conflict with a minimal of violence and brutality, with stories often focusing on detective work in a pulpy noir atmosphere, or the clever use of a tactic relevant to a bad man's gimmick. Every character is consistent and has a clear, coherent vision. There is exactly one profoundly stupid retcon and it's in an extremely skippable bottle episode of another show (Justice League Unlimited, and the retcon relates to Batman Beyond, the Wise Man's Favourite Batman). Respects women (here to take back the night, for her). Loves his gay sons and daughter. Does not turn his car into a murder tank to shoot people with.

90s comics Batman: violent asshole who is mean to everybody because idk Denny O'Neil thinks that's what autism or PTSD or whatever is. Makes absurdly stupid fucking decisions that later need to be retconned into making sense and even then they rely on everybody else being an inconsistent nonsense character. Launches into monologues about how it'd be super easy if he could just kill people, especially those incurable freak scoundrels at the crazy people prison more often than you would think. Truly horribly mean to women (Huntress and Spoiler especially) in a way that is simply beyond the norm of the genre at the time. Relentlessly weird and abusive in "my dad never hugged me" ways toward his ever-growing collection of sometimes dead children. Constantly turning his car into a murder tank to shoot people with.

This show is not an adaptation of the comics (though some individual issues are adapted or reworked), but if you just specify you're writing about or discussing DCAU Batman, people are pretty chill and in my experience will actively tell you about specific issues or TPBs that relate to the show. Other than that, it's just an extremely solid, accessible version of Batman, and the version of the character most people remember / care about when they criticize mean asshole comic book Batman for being "out of character" (even though comic book Batman has kinda sorta been that way since Crisis).

The same is basically true of Superman. His DCAU series has less of a reputation but is honestly crazy underrated. Best version of Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen.

The Justice League cartoon, a sequel to both series, will also introduce you to a bunch of mainstay DC characters, albeit usually pretty far-removed from their own stories and exclusively in a team context. The only major outliers are The Question, Wonder Woman (kinda) and Martian Manhunter, who were basically 100% rewritten for the show. Even then if you just specify you mean the DCAU versions of these characters people will get it, the shows used to be more popular than the comics in the 90s.

This will also sneakily onboard you to the Zeta Project and you will learn, albeit indirectly, who the most insufferable kids in like 2002 were. Seriously, I sound insane telling children this now, but Ro's design was like... the rosetta stone for shit Deviantart anime OCs for a whole five years or so.

The watching order I'd recommend is:

Batman: Mask of the Phantasm.

Batman: The Animated Series.

Superman: The Animated Series.

Batman & Mr. Freeze: SubZero.

The New Batman Adventures.

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman.

Justice League.

Justice League Unlimited.

Batman Beyond.

Batman: Return of the Joker (the only Tim Drake story I like lol).

The Zeta Project (severely optional).

I'd place Static Shock somewhere before Justice League Unlimited, personally, but you can move that one around as you please. There's some jank to it because it wasn't originally going to be part of the DCAU, but then come season two they started incorporating little crossovers and nods.

Batman & Harley Quinn and Justice League vs. the Furious Five are also in continuity but I pretend I do not see the Harley Quinn farts in the batmobile and fucks Nightwing movie, and have not actually seen the Furious Five movie.

Easy, simple, no fuss no muss. Batman is the only character to appear in every single show (albeit not every episode, obviously), so he serves as kind of a connecting throughline for the "Timmverse."

A lot of these shows are on Netflix and I mean, y'know, just pirate them, it's not like Warner Bros. needs more money lol.

Other recommendations:

Super Friends - no bullshit. It's aged pretty horribly, especially the animation, but I kid you not, this show genuinely captures what golden age superhero stories and especially Batman feels like. Not at all remotely character-driven (but neither were 90% of the comics), instead centered 100% around very badly animated action. I fucking love it. It will teach you how the idea of Batman worked before he was Gotham's dark moody emo prince. I don't recommend watching all of Super Friends, there is a lot of it, but there's value in just blasting through a couple eps. The benefit here is that they tinker with the format and line-up every season so if you do find yourself enjoying that 1970s American cartoon style of storytelling, they do keep it kind of fresh.

The Batman - that is, the 2004 series. Hated on arrival for not being more Timmverse DCAU stuff. Some of the most creative direction in villain and action design the franchise has ever had, but like, everybody in this show is a kung fu fighter when that is extremely not the case in the comics lol. Will demonstrate Batman as a pulp scifi detective, and how his stories can work when he's an isolated character. Plays hard into the idea of empathy for some villains, and provides most villains with pretty human motives. Downplays Batman as mentally ill and makes his Bruce Wayne persona, uh... more "relatable" to kids in the mid-2000s lol. Doesn't really supplement comic book canon but if you want to see how concepts can be stretched and adapted for fanfiction purposes, this is an invaluable show.

Batman - The Brave & The Bold. Captures the vibe of the wider DC universe during the 1950s - 1970s, with a lot of fun modern characters reworked into a silver age vibe and aesthetic. Very lighthearted and silly, but feels like if Gardner Fox were around today he'd fuck with it hard. Not a replacement for comics that people actually read and discuss in the tumblr fandom, but will introduce you to a range of characters, some of whom are actually pretty obscure, in an extremely digestible format. Has a bad, Teen Titans Go esque habit of responding to reddit fan criticisms in the Bat-Mite episodes, but those are paradoxically some of the most solid shit in the show.

[theoneandonlycoralinejones]

Some General Ericson's Kids Headcannons

Louis

Despite it being the zombie apocalypse, he still takes a great care in his appearance. Maybe this could be tied back to his insecurities, but he generally just finds comfort in looking nice. He kept a few colognes from before, and maybe even still has a few hair products. Of course he’d had to be resourceful to make them last this long, probably pours water into the almost empty cologne bottles to make them last longer. He also just dislikes being dirty in general, always wiping down his clothes and typically taking breaks to freshen up. 

He wants to keep the artistic spirit alive, even in the apocalypse, and he really admires people who feel the same. Everyone knows he loves piano, but when somebody actually shows interest in it he can't help but get giddy. He can ramble about musicians and songs for hours and hours and hours, and if you ever found him some new records or sheet music you'd officially be his new favorite person; ever.

Definitely was an only child; his parents put all of their focus on him, watched his every move. He was expected to get good grades, go to a good college, get a hard well-paying job afterwards. He was definitely spoiled money-wise, but his family lacked in the love and affection department. 

Violet

I’d like to think that if she ever got the chance to, she’d try to give herself a piercing. Obviously it’d be unsanitary and sort of implausible during the apocalypse, but if you think about it, all she’d need would be a needle, the piercing itself, and some sort of disinfectant, so it could possibly happen. If she did get one, probably an eyebrow piercing or a septum. She definitely isn’t the type to care too much about her appearance, but she would feel super cool having a piercing. (She wouldn’t say it though, lol)

Violet lacked any sort of hobby in the game, and this upset me. (Ruby has gardening/being a nurse, Louis has music, Tenn has art, Mitch has weapons, Omar has cooking, Aasim has writing, etc.) I feel like if she had a hobby it'd be something she'd do in secret, maybe poetry or writing songs. She definitely is the type of person to bottle her emotions up, so writing poems about it would definitely be a nice way to cope with them. She’d never share her poetry with anyone though, it's just her thing; she's way too embarrassed of it. 

If she was able to listen to any music she would definitely like indie or punk music. (Pavement, she would LOVE pavement) She’s definitely the type of person to crush on more alternative people, so I could see her trying to get into goth music just to impress a girl she likes. 

Marlon

It's obvious that he's definitely got some hefty mental issues going on, he's the type of person to bottle things up forever till he just blows up. He panics a lot in tough situations, scrambles to fix things himself, but has a hard time making things work out alone. I'd imagine his parents were probably perfectionists of some sort; who pushed a lifestyle he didn't want onto him and he tried hard to succeed for them but could never be enough. Eventually one day he acted out, sick of being forced to live a life he didn't want to live, and then was sent to Ericsons's.

A lot of people hate Marlon, for reasons that are obvious, but I really don't think he was a bad guy. He was simply misguided, and made mistakes. 

Seems like the type to smoke or drink as a way to cope. Did it more often before the apocalypse and when it first started but cigarettes and alcohol are pretty much nonexistent near Ericson’s now so he was forced to quit. 

Mitch

I see many people sort of stereotype Mitch as just this guy who likes carving knives and making bombs, which definitely is true, but I think there’s much more to him. He has a very rebellious personality which leads me to believe he probably grew up in a home where being rebellious was necessary to get any attention from his neglectful parents. They are in the boarding school for a reason, so he probably was the type of kid that almost burnt down his house or something.

Definitely seems like the type to be a big softie once you get to know him. Certainly not the type to be all soft in public, but if you're spending time one on one his more gentle side will show. 

Ruby 

She has such a motherly vibe to her, so caring and sweet. Even hands out some tough love when needed. I think that's one of the reasons why she likes the greenhouse so much, she loves to take care of things; plants included. (Obviously she also liked it because of Ms. Martin, but yk)

She's certainly not the type to accept compliments easily, she just can't imagine that when people compliment her they're telling the truth. I'd imagine that the reason she punches Aasim If you dare him to kiss her is because she thinks he's playing a prank on her or something; she just finds it hard to believe that somebody would like her. (I love her, Ruby is my bae omg)