#ive never had an issue with my birth name and ive enjoyed it at times but the longer i identify as trans the less i feel it fits me

[lowpawly]

I've been thinking about going by Elias as my full name for a few years now since lenny is just a nickname but lenny really doesn't work as well as a shortening for it as it does for my birthname. but das ok

[floralkittygambler]

HuskerDust - More Toxic Than You Think [LONG]

This is the rough version of a deeper and more complex subject I want to ‘decorate’ with more ‘screencaps’.  DISCLAIMER: This is allegedly controversial and led to me getting literal death threats and an ED triggered. Ive about heard a lot of people’s shit on this so dont try it. I’m speaking from personal experiences too - experiences I really fuckin dont wanna be sharin yet they kinda validate my points. I want people to be aware of the damaging image from someone who can speak from experience without attracting dickheads or people twisting things. Again, I aint particularly comfortable sharing this so yeah- Be courteous- TW AHEAD - ALSO LONG ASS READ. DNI STANS OR ANTIS. May tag a few folks, may not.  HuskerDust is an extremely popular ship in the community however there’s glaringly obvious flaws in this one-sided relationship that both the fans and even the team fail to see. Neglecting the dangerous real world implications this ship [as well as many others] present to it’s audience - especially the more influenced of the audience, most who are children.

Angel flirts with all the male cast however one who catches his eye the most is Husk. Now I want to point out a few things [of many... obviously]; Angel is instantly starry eyed upon seeing Husk, likewise he actually started off with a ‘Hey~’ instead of something sexual. However he quickly ruins this after Husk tells him to go fuck himself [defined by: “ go fuck yourselfphrase of fuckVULGAR SLANGan exclamation expressing anger or contempt for, or rejection of, someone.” ie, he rejected instantly] by responding with an offer to allow Husk to essentially watch him masterbate. Alongside this, he cradles his face. Husk pulls away and seems to pull a face to express rage/disgust or growling imagery alongside COMPLETELY withdrawing his body away from Angel as Angel stares with goo-goo eyes. Firstly, Angel loves animals - perhaps it’s Husk appearing cute that adds to this, however Im not going to address animal imagery just yet. Secondly, Angel isn’t really portrayed to respect other’s boundaries BUT he does respect... Alastor’s. Al declines the blowjob to which Angel shrugs and doesn’t push this matter any further. With Husk, he’s pretty harshly told to piss off yet he makes quite and explicitly sexual remark, alongside invading his personal space and touching a man clearly disinterested and pulling away. From the initial rejection, it then becomes sexual harassment.  I also want to add that Husk comes with [some] perks in his feline form. And if my name didnt make it obvious, I work with and live with cats on a daily. Briefly, I have been educated in how to understand cat’s language in various individual cat as well as how to handle and work with them. Cats are often drawn towards me and Ive been successful with various types of cats. My most recent being a cat I’ve dubbed as Big - Big was abandoned quite young and has lived most his life on the streets [where I live is high in crime and drug rings, so you can imagine how strays are treated] leading to him being extremely fearful and hating people, hissing and fleeing just seeing people. I took time out last summer to finally give befriending him a shot. It’s taken just under a year of hard work and now he visits every day for his mush [wet food] and kisses, responds to his name and runs up to me in delight. Ive even taught him a phrase to signal that I dont want him or the other cat’s to fight [keeps them all safe and aids them becoming acquainted under supervision - something that’s been working surprisingly well]. I apologise in advance as this is not going to be the first instance of this sort of thing but they are relevant. Trying my best to keep it as brief.  For Husk, I will be using a mix of cat and human characteristics to break down his reactions.  In this first interaction, he turns his body away in a way to suggest caution, wariness and disinterest. In fact, much of his general body language is that of a man deeply closed off from connections - for starters, he folds his arms quick a bit which suggests lack of openness, shutting off and defensiveness *usually*. Likewise, when touched, he slightly jumps and tenses before pulling back in aggression with flattered ears - a sign cats give to display extreme hostility in a situation. It’s NEVER a good thing but then again, neither is crossing someone’s boundaries. It’s even stated that Husk hates Angel’s advances and wishes for nothing to do with him - the same dislike of sexual advances that Al dislikes in Angel. The ending as they all walk inside, Angel turns to Husk, winking and blowing a kiss his way despite the clear rejection earlier. In fact, Husk once again grows tense and is even irked by such a gesture. This won’t be the last mention of Angel totally disregarding how Husk feels - something that rubs off onto the fans AND the team themselves. And it’s... *concerning*, to phrase it lightly. Angel so far is the most persistent towards the most resistant, and in my post on RadioDust I have already established [briefly] on how Angel seems to chase unavailable men. The more unavailable, the more tempting. The one that got away, mentality. It’s not healthy. And I’m surprised so few have acknowledged this. Taking a break from what we’ve seen in the Pilot, let’s establish some facts about the pair.  Angel died in 1947 in his 30s [some posts specify 34-35], putting his birth year around 1911-12ish. Husk died in the 70s IN his 70s [again, nothing is truly specified, so for both we’ll go with 75 - the same number in his IG username] that puts birth year roughly 1900′s. Now an age gap between two adults of 11 - 12 years difference is actually reasonable and can work, depending on circumstance and whether theres a balance in power or not. But when we account for their life experiences and death ages, it’s something else entirely. Angel died young. Not only that but his mind seems more stuck in his raunchy teens than of an adult. And even THEN, he wouldnt be one to necessarily settle down [by which I mean in life, not romance]. He’s extremely emotionally stunted and his selfishness and wanting his own way come off very spoilt [when Husk is pissed off about the cat costume, Angel gets moody because he’s used to compliments AND is dressing to impress Husk. When Husk wanted the money he was rightfully owed, Angel threw a fit for ages until starting to earn it back - even though he owed Husk a drink, which I’ll be coming back to, Husk still wanted the money in the end perhaps hinting to only accepting a freebie as it’s on offer as well as Angel being overly persistent. He even dumps his pig onto Husk to look after, while theres no issue in pet sitting, Angel said Husk ‘owed’ him due to missing the show yet when HE owed Husk, he threw a fit.]. Angel’s life style is wildly chaotic in life AND death, and even though we all know he’s most likely going to be redeemed, he still lacks a lot of experiences in life. He lacks maturity.  On the other hand, Husk’s been through his own share of chaos and heartbreak. Difference is, he’s had a life time of experience. He doesn’t act immature in a childish sense. He truly behaves like a downtrodden old man. He’s had his days and would feel more secure settling down in a more peaceful environment with fun yet much needed calm. A better way to handle his need for risk. Age gaps in adults that are large [75 - 35 = 40 years!] are far less likely to work for a multitude of reasons. The main reason is the difference in life stages - that difference in mentality and experiences plays such an impacting role on compatibility. Often their goals and energies are polar opposites and their common grounds minimal. There’s also the looming concern of power dynamics. Whilst it’s usually the older figure that’s holds the power advantage, in this case it’s a little bit more complicated. I’d argue that it’s possibly Angel with the higher power. This rarely works irl but it’s POSSIBLE. Look at Hugh Heffner and his last partner before his death. I believe she was around 22. However there’s many common grounds, immediate attraction, and similar goals. Though incorrect, Heffner does give off a pimp-like vibe (he’s not but you get what I’m implying with mothlike imagery). Husk does not strike me as that type. It would definitely cheapen his character. In terms of interests, the main thing they have in common is that they like to drink. A bad habit, especially when one is an alcoholic. Both are also rather lazy except for certain circumstances [Husk will go out of his way to help HOWEVER he’s obliged to under Al, the only one he’s seen to willingly help and bond with/be seen with is Niffty. Angel is when there’s a fight, chaos, drama or any sex work]. Both are also rather snarky and vulgar. In terms of love, both suffer intimacy issues. On Husk, it’s ‘losing the ability to love a long time ago’ meaning he was likely cheated on or at least had a failed relationship. If he was ever ready for a new start, he’d definitely want something stable yet rewarding. For now, he needs a LOT of work - work he is not yet willing to put in, nor does he have a reason to. Angel doesnt want to commit because he’s extremely selfish as well as in an already abusive ‘relationship’ already. Sex work is sometimes VERY taxing on the mental health due to some of the folk you service. He’s seen the worst in many and just enjoys the pay and fuck. IF Husk was cheated on, then it’d make a lot of sense if a sex worker wouldn’t be his flavour, it would just serve as a reminder. Not only this, but Angel HIMSELF actively participates in cheating. Not with Val... but with *Travis*. BOTH know Travis is married (I’d be feckin worried if Trav didnt-) yet they still choose to cheat anyways, regardless of the pain it could cause. Angel even mocks this by sending greetings to Trav’s wife. Honestly this... Reminds me a LOT of Stolas - a main character who sexually harasses another character clearly not interested/comfortable, participates in cheating and we’re supposed to root for them (and before anyone gets offended, I do have more to say on Angel’s behalf so please be patient). Either way, it’s very toxic and concerning. Even if Husk wasn’t cheated on, I dont think many would feel exactly secure after having such a rough past with love, diving into a relationship with someone who’s openly participated in multiple affairs. And that’s no shitting on sex workers either, it’s just a point that some would feel uncomfortable with the idea of being with ANYONE (regardless of their work) having actively and KNOWINGLY took part in having an affair previously - especially multiple. Husk’s in an emotionally fragile place and needs more security. We’ve already established Husk heavily dislikes Angel’s advances. In fact, his responses to Angel are similar to his responses to... Al! His body language is VERY test and closed off to even Al, who’s most likely knew him for a very long time. If even Al gets this treatment (whilst also disrespecting his boundaries) then it’ll be the same with Angel (both force Husk into their lives and schemes, both disregard his boundaries). And he’s shown to STILL go out his way to help both however this is most likely tied to an unspoken ‘debt’ he owes Alastor. Plus he’s been mentioned behind the scenes to be a secret softie and protective grandpa type. But this animosity is very reflective of how Loona behaves and responds to Blitzo as well as how both Loona AND Husk (One being a ‘lowly servant’, the other being a literal old MAN) as pets - even the fans - just because of their forms. But this isnt the first of the disrespect they receive. Now we delve deeper Both are addicts of some kind (Husk - drinking, gambling. Angel - Drugs, possibly sex). Not a good mix at all romantically. Addicts often and unintentionally feed their addictions to each other as well as can increase likelihood of relapsing which even a recovered addict can slip back into. When times get tough (a natural occurrence) both are likely to suffer with their addictions. Interestingly, they can become addicted and dependent on one another, which is genuinely unhealthy for a mindset anyways, regardless whether addiction existed prior or not. Addiction only increases these chances. Angel likes confidence in a man (confirmed on Patreon). Yet, Husk is even confirmed  in streams to be deeply troubled and insecure. One thing he hates is his demon form, something that we’ll touch on shortly. Angel loves quality food ESPECIALLY of Italian origin whilst Husk is willing to eat the shit they give you in bars (admittedly that was painful to type as someone who grew up around pubs - either way it’s not exactly high quality or gourmet is what I’m saying). Interestingly, in some character references of Angel, it’s stated that he hates rejection. Hates. That’s a VERY strong word. This could explain but not justify why he’s persistent with Husk (similar to NiceGuys believing you’re playing ‘hard to get’ - further illuding to an immature and toxic mindset) though it interestingly doesn’t apply with Alastor. Odd.  There’s a counterpoint to symbolism in art. A very VALID counterarguement... If it suited Viv’s style. During Media Studies, Business, Design and Art, hell fucking Silent Hill! - I’ve been educated on effective symbolism as well as artistic trademarks (the most famous that most should know is Alfred Hitchcock!). Hitchcock often appeared in all his films, usually as a sidefacing silhouette, trading marking his films with his very PRESENCE. Viv’s seems to revolve around hearts. I mention this because an IG account made the point that hearts were to symbolise anyone connected with Angel’s story and love life (Valentino’s business and shades/collar, heart behind Angel’s head, Heart tattoo on Cherri’s right shoulder, hearts for Husk’s paws, eyebrow marks above natural brows, wings, and nose as well as most of the playing cards). Thing is, there’s hearts EVERYWHERE in all of Viv’s works and such symbology of Angel and hearts is weakened if it connects to the villains/abusers as well - taking away the positivity in a love symbol. Viv’s used hearts in her font, backgrounds, in characters ears, in all her series just generalised, Blitzo’s forehead, background characters, again the cards, Travis’s eyes, Millie’s right shoulder in the SAME place as Cherris. Even Vaggie had a heart tattoo on the shoulder in some christmas themed artwork (on her left). Heart’s is just something Viv seems to brand herself with. And that’s fine though I feel she could do with cutting it down slightly. One thing to early note on the cards (again, this’ll creep up later and my name should tell you why), most are heart suits and usually either a face card (J, Q, K), Joker, ace or 2s. Face cards/Jokers for more details close up (look at the signing artwork) and the rest are just easier to animate, though a little bit of a peeve to someone into their cards as well as the massive overuse of red in Hazbin overall. It’s extremely unlikely to be symbolic. If they change it to be so, then it’s... Weakened. As I’ve mentioned earlier, Silent Hill is an example of extremely clever symbolism in more darker media (more so, SH is considered a ‘hell’ of sorts and does feature religious iconography WITHOUT causing offence. A great example of how to portray this type of thing - they even mix humour in if you consider some of the sneaky references, dialogues and odd UFO/dog endings).  Discussing Viv’s art further, she drew a gift for her sister (original creator of Husk when he possessed white fur) of Angel playfully dragging a disinterested and annoyed Husk (I believe this was still around the time SpiderMoth was canon). The newish art tends to have Angel putting a holly crown on him or sitting on his knees, Husk seeming too lazy to really do anything about it. Very nonchalant. I also want to include some interesting stream arts here and later to further highlight their bond.  A fan asked Viv in a stream to draw them “actually getting along” - this wording implying that the fan is aware of Husk not enjoying Angel’s company. So Viv did, with an extra doodle of Husk being one of the ‘canadian people’ from South Park who sing “Im not your friend”. The art alone shows Husk’s absolute discomfort, even the extra thing Viv added w/o request. As they’re her characters and the fan asked for what they’d look like getting along, to show this discomfort goes to show the dynamic once planned. Husk just isnt a fan of Angel, especially when he’s being sexual and touchy. It can be great for small comedic parts, however both the team AND fans have now crossed this over to really creepy and triggering realms in their ships. It’s creepy and doesnt look good on Angel (who they actively root for) nor the gay community (more on that).

[Yes Ive already pointed out the comedic side of this ^ but it doesnt bode well considering the other points and issues that arise] There’s also a request for drag angel flirting with drunk husk. Personally thats a lil creepy to specify one of the two being intoxicated and thus not able to truly consent. If Angel is willing to flirt with someone in that state, it doesnt mean he would fuck them, but it does feel the fan was thinking that’s the case. In all truth, I think Angel WOULD flirt with those incapable of consent purely to swindle or pickpocket. I’d like to think [and HOPE considering his own abuse by Val] that he’d never take it further. And I hope Viv, the team and the fans see how incredibly creepy that thought is. I’ll give benefit of the doubt though it is still a concern. Either way, Angel appears... Annoyed? Husk is completely turned away and seems incredibly grouchy and confused. This shows yet more rejection on his behalf as well as Angel’s response to being rejected, which highlights his immaturity towards it. Remember, he’s USED TO and EXPECTS everyone to want him (even saying this in the Pilot). Hell, there’s even a Rich Vaggie request where Viv again randomly includes Husk. This time, he’s faced towards her and relaxed, though seems unimpressed and overall disinterested in this type of behaviour. Behaviour and interests of Angel [Celeb status and rich appearance due to Val, despite getting very little of the cut and the vanity, as well as Husk just not giving a shit about this sort of peacock display]. (Also wanted to note in Viv’s #3 stream 1:50:50, Faust makes out that Husk is a ‘dirty, creepy old man’ as well as him constantly threatening violence towards Angel. I dont see him as *creepy* in this context - as it implies perversion that he blatantly lacks fortunately - though it’s very telling of how Husk feels and again shows this toxic relationship).

/Angel’s Type: First off, daddy issues. He has them. Now let’s look at ‘daddy’. Henroin is shorter than Angel, dark fur, grumpy, old, wears only a hat and tie, big brows... Sounds familiar? Ok, look at his brother Arackniss. Similar to Henroin, dark, short, grouchy, bullied by and bullies Angel, is adverse to Angel and overall possess a bad relationship. Ok.... His main client, Travis! Short, dark fur, moody, Only wears hat and tie, drinker (shown in stream as request so take drinking with a pinch), similar face to- Is no one else seeing this trait? Angel seems to go for these shorter than him grouchier men who either want him for sex or hate his presence. Men who are like his dad and brother. All of these guys are far too similar, and we’ve got enough men in suits, bowties and sharp teeth in this show to boot as it is- The psychology of this type of attachment is rooted in a bad familial relationship alongside the subconscious desire to repair or compensate for it. Unknowningly the person will keep seeking out this sort of guy who isnt good for them to fix this internal issue. The resolution is to NOT go for these types. It’s also connected to intimacy fears, by going for those you know arent good for you/right for you/interested in you is often the manifestation of these issues. Pair them with daddy issues and it’s a disaster! There is science to back this up. Valentino is interestingly the opposite yet still toxic issues arise. Why? Because he’s going from one extreme to the other but with the same mindset. Neither of these men or types for MANY reasons are right for him. And visa versa. Seeing a pattern? ~~~~

Angel w Husk? I mentioned before that Husk hates his demon form. If you’re an old man, a gambler, some Vegas bloke and have this grouchier disposition, why the fuck would you want to look like an oversized pet? Exactly. Angel however adores his own aside from the feet. Now I find it strange how the guy we’re rooting for just so happens to like his own form which was intended for punishment. But that’s not todays post. I said earlier that Angel is heavily fixated on Husk’s appearance. Especially the feline aspects (calling him Husky and Kitty - petnames he hates that also treat him again more like a pet than a man -, dressing as a ‘sexy cat’ to appeal to him which can come off as more mockery. This is even backed up by fans who seem to think an old guy’s gonna act like some school girl anime trope?). All of this completely disregards and disrespects Husk’s feelings and perspectives. Something the fans and team take part in actively. Angel - whether you want to hear this or not - is SELFISH. When Husk ‘owed’ him for missing the show (babysitting Fat Nuggets), Husk begrudgingly fulfils this. The second Angel owed Husk for stealing drinks, Angel threw a hissy fit. The silent treatment, going to other bars and posting about it whilst complaining (again focusing on Husk being ‘cute’). Trying to cop out of it by buying Husk a smoothie (though it looked like a date, lets be real, do you REALLY have to bribe someone to date and be around you? No) and even then he still had to owe the money which was more of Husk’s concern. Yes he did in the end and more money than needed, hence the returning of the extra cash, but that is no excuse for the childish behaviour prior. He’s much too accustomed to being adored and pampered and getting his own way that he cant grasp when people arent a fan or willing to pamper him. If they make them a ship, all it does it make Angel completely into a shitty Gary-Stu that everyone loves and pities for his suffering, rather than teach him to grow, earn his redemption and confronting his own toxicity. Let me make this extremely clear: ANGEL DOES NOT DESERVE ABUSE OR RAPE. But when he starts behaving as shitty, he’s hard to root for. Remember, he’s sexually harassing all these guys, with Husk getting the brunt of it. But it’s treated as a joke for them and only taken seriously for Angel. Val abuses all of his employees. He abuses VOX and even THAT was mocked by fans and staff. It’s... It’s frankly gross.  In every interaction Husk has with Angel, his body language is closed off, tense, uncomfortable, turned away and hostile - look at the IG. He wont even allow Angel to touch him. Compare this to Niffty, who he’s fine with taking pictures with and letting her hang around and touch him. Body language is relaxed (relaxed shoulders, open body language) and he doesnt look hostile at all. What does Angel do? Always tries to get close to Husk (such as sitting as close as possible during Poker) and forces both his OWN hobbies onto Husk (ones that Husk shows a strong disinterest in) and Husk’s hobbies (Poker). It’s very FORCED and not natural. Going back to immaturity, he blames Husk and his cards for being shit at the game. They’re always bickering, insulting, fighting in the comments but fans only see this as a ‘cute couple fight’ or Husk being ‘tsundere’.Tsundere. An anime trope often used in young characters. Irl tsundere is NOT this dramatised. The tsundere you see in anime, apply that irl and you get the recipe for the most toxic, petty and immature relationship going. You get constant fights, unease, not feeling loved/appreciated, little trust - the list goes on. Plus an old bloke really isnt going to indulge in tsundere traits. It’s childish. After his history with love, I doubt he’d be up for games and messing about. For something meaningful, he’d just want open honesty. Their ‘relationship’ feels like it’s written by horny kids attempting a fanfic after being inspired by 50 shades and twilight (both show toxic relationshiiiiiips~). The worst is that these are adult writers trying to portray some realistic yet sensitive topics. This is just ill fuckin taste. Even the warnings in Helluva’s ‘Horny Demons’ leaves a bad taste when the fans are thinking Stolas is the best dad despite both parents ruining Octavia’s mental health. Despite the next day after that episode aired Stolas starts flirting with Blitzo again on IG. Despite Blitzo being clearly uncomfortable and sexually harassed and even co-herced into sex (VERY UNHEALTHY MESSAGES HERE). Viv herself has been in bad relationships so how the fuck she’s blind to this and even borderline fetishizing this sort of behaviour that everyone seems to play off as ‘Awwww cute tsundere <3 BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS BOYFRIENDS’ is abhorrent. I’ll go into this more later on how this really just... It treats male sexual harassment and assault as a fucking joke- Angel’s constant unwarranted flirting is no different from the freaks on IG that send dick pics to underage kids and random women in their dms and fathom that they’re ‘nice’ and have a ‘chance’. Wanna know the creepiest? The candid photo of Husk on Angel’s wall. Something Husk seems horrified about. It’s fangirlish and teenager like at BEST, and obsessive stalker at worst. He’s NOT respecting Husk’s boundaries or feelings. That’s still up despite Husk’s reaction. He still wore the costume despite Husk’s feelings. Angel’s thinking with his dick and it’s such a fucked up message that everyone seems to support just because ‘its FICTION. Theyre in HELL.Theyre BAD people.’ Yeah? Well look at how that’s effecting and warping reality and perspective. It’s glamourising it. Fetishsizing stalking and making it cute. Yer have celebrity or boyband or whatever youre a fan of pics on your wall. NOT your crush. NOT someone who clearly isnt interested or happy with this. If someone who kept commenting on your pictures “sexy” suddenly had a picture of you on their wall, what would YOU think? How would YOU FEEL? Because myself and my own sisters have been in VERY fucking similar situations and it’s traumatic. His paw is even attempting the lens - Angel is crossing his boundaries and not getting the message that Husk doesnt want this. He’s forcing himself onto Husk. Yknow... VAL forced himself on Angel and it ended up in numerous rapes. Angel hasnt raped Husk, but if he wont take no. If he wont respect boundaries. If he only wants Husk to do what he wants but throws a fit when he owes husk - he’s picking up on Val’s bad habits more and more. How are so few - even the very team creating this - not seeing how disgusting this is? Are we only supposed to give a shit if Angels hurt? If so, the message isnt so much of how despicable Val is but how awful it is to upset Angel. Fans constantly blame Husk for being grumpy, annoyed at or rejecting Angel. Look at this real world implication. Not only that but Angel being gay just reinforces one of the worlds most disgusting and inaccurate stereotype of gay men being sexual predators and forcing men to have sex whether theyre comfortable or not. MOST gay men arent like this, and those who are its just because THEYRE shitty people (Jeffree fucking Starr, but look how people ‘stan’ his fuckin behaviour). Val is rubbing off on Angel as much as fiction has a MASSIVE impact on reality - whether we’re willing to admit it or not. Like Val, hes pushing past boundaries, he’s selfish, hes more into visuals than anything else. It’s one sided, superficial and theres no click. No connection. Be in this situation yourself and seeing this sorta shit becomes second nature to stay alive. Angel even says that most of hells residents are ‘ugly freaks’ yet finds Husk cute. It’s all LOOKS. Who else likes appearances alone? Val. I know this will trigger and upset fans, Ive been told to fucking die and have my ED triggered when I mentioned it before. But accept that all of them have flaws. Everyone irl have flaws. But there’s flaws and then theres a fuckin crime. If Husk was a woman, more people would see the flaw, but even then... Look at many romance movies - not all but many go for opposites attract (science proves this inaccurate irl), stalking, or even sexual harassments and assualts but she falls for him and they end up together. That aint love thats Stockholm with extra steps. Think you’re triggered and upset? Go through this shit - have a history with it happening - and then see some show you love and a comfort character get treated the exact same and everyone JUSTIFIES it, including the team themselves. It’s NOT cute.  Part 2 to the previous point: Both do share common interests, but it’s very unhealthy such as excessive drinking, both being addicts and being rather lazy, etc. Otherwise the common ground just isnt good. They’re opposites that really dont compliment each other. (Not a valid point here but I find it interesting how Angel loves aquariums and Husk can fly too). Viv’s writing is mediocre at best (but with glowing potential - a diamond in the rough - hence why it’s so frustrating) but Husk’s writing is the laziest. According to Viv he’s (paraphrased) “easiest to write... doesnt care about anything, almost always grumpy leading to similar reactions to everything”. His voice and alcoholism even has a lot of inspiration from Rick Sanchez. As I said with Angel in the RadioDust post, it’s almost like the addictions are seen as a joke. A running gag is fine if you can play it off well and it’s not about something so serious EVEN MORE SO when the series is about how damaging the addictions are and redemption. Why is this end goal being ignored unless it’s about Angel himself? That’s not just favouritism or bias, that’s also heavily self indulgent and a backwards ass message. Right now, Hazbin and Helluva have this ugly fixation on sex and ships. VIV has a fixation on ‘horny demons’. Her main characters are incredibly sexual bar Al (dont even say Husk, Niffty, Charlie or Vaggie or even loona and Moxxie are even on par with the focus and treatment Val, Angel, Blitz and Stolas are given). It’s very fixated and concerning. Its starting to feel like it’s about to divulge into hentai than a legit series with even a hint of the plot or a message. It reminds me of Family Guy trying to be BoJack. It’s starting to remind me of fucking Sausage Party and the final orgy. Sex and swears makes it inappropriate for kids but that doesnt make it adult or mature, and this is coming from someone who swears more than a fucking sailor whos stubbed his bare pinky toe on a fucking crate corner. Constant swears arent funny or artful in the slightest when it’s over done. It’s just... childish adult humour. We cant be expected to want to root for any of them at this rate- All A24 and other companies are seeing is big cash and easily manipulated child audiences (for easy money). They KNOW it can be better but theyd rather be lazy as they’ll profit big either way. This is going to end up like YanSim and YanDev. Amazing potential, shit writing with a leader too stubborn to accept and act on criticism, seeing it as hate. At this point, Husk isnt a deeply troubled man with vices and interests. He’s just fuck candy and romantic end goal for Angel. To compliment and complete him. Just another accessory to the Angel Show. Vivs sister who made Husk even loves Angel so it’ll only serve to further this already toxic narrative.  The ship doesnt look or feel right. There’s too much established now to see the dynamics and favouritism in the creators. Self indulgence. You cant play favourites when you do this sort of thing professionally. The audience can see it and it turns people away. Ask any nonHaz/Helluva fan what they think and it’s... Well, average.  Another thing is everyone went full hype on Frozen focusing on something other than romance as a form of love. But then go back to “Ok now everyone reenact the final scenes of Sausage Party” afterwards. Not everything is sex and romance, and it really is starting to feel Viv and the fans are focused on that like Incels focusing on ‘chad’. It’s creepy. Helping with food, telling someone self conscious on their weight that they’re not fat, not taking more money than someone owes, even helping out with a pet - that’s something that a good friend would do. In fact, Husk even laughs at the goofy Angel cutout and it being destroyed. It doesnt instantly equate to wanting to fuck. The fact that the fans and even some of the team seem borderline horny is... Completely destroying this show, it’s message and everything about it. Viv said ships were hardly the focus in her stream but look at it now. Look at what Viv focuses on now. It’s just fanservice shit. Nothing more. Self indulgence shit, look at the team making rape into a fetish or shipping themselves publicly with the characters on the public IGs. It’s like watching children run a business and it’s painful because the entire series is suffering when it could be amazing.  Friendship should be more normalised as a valuable type of relationship just as much as love or family are. I’ll also add that Husk adding after the show “Oh fuck... Is this what I missed? Shit.” is ooc like the ‘date’ (that was compensation for stolen drinks, like a tamer version of Blitzo fucking Stolas for the grimoire). It contradicts that he slept it off rather than an attempt at staying awake, as well as calling it a “god damn peepshow” implying a repulsion to the peverse tendencies. The constantly commenting, following and posting Angel related pics makes little sense either from someone who’s blatantly been sexually harassed as well as the clear repulsion of the candid pic on the wall. He outright rejected Angel. What would be realistic are the IGs focusing on learning about the characters, their lives and interests - ALL updating at realistic paces. Old men arent tech savvy usually nor care for social media that much. He’d post drinks, gambling, casinos, life with Niffty and Alastor. Heck maybe a picture of Angel captioned “When will this guy leave me the FUCK alone?”. He even only seems to tag angel, even in the pic that had Charlie and Vaggie [their shared account] or Niffty. Theres a CLEAR bias in the staff room and it’s messy. Look how most the female cast is ignored (Vaggie/Charlie, Velvet who posted a birthday gift to one of the new artists on the merch WHY? Gasu btw, Niffty, Millie only posting twice - heck even Vox and Loona sometimes get neglected. CLEAR. BIAS.) The ships focused on are 1) NOT established canon yet publicly favoured by Viv and the team (Stoliz, HuskerDust, VoxVal - that last pair havent actually got a VA either-), 2) Are TOXIC and theme around abuse or sexual harassment but it’s ‘cute because gae’ - NO. This makes gay people look really bad when they’re not. 3) HD and SL focus on one sided, stalkerish, cop out ‘tsundere’ excused ships to sugar coat the creepiness which only further fuels bigotry, 4) SL has MERCH on it now, so thats also profiting on sexual harassment imagery (again, dont give a shit they arent real - the EFFECTS are. The people who can relate ARE. The people being horridly stereotyped ARE). Thing is, the IGs originally were there to promote ADDICT which started as a fan song anyways despite everyone saying how Viv is stubborn in her ways an uninfluenced by her fans (proof says otherwise) yet shes allowed a fan song to be canon. Theres a focus on forced love for fanservice. The IGs have long outstayed their welcome. The Val account allows glamourisation of the sick shit Val does AND entinses fans to bully as they forget a REAL PERSON runs the fucking account, Val isnt even a scary villain either - hes just a big teen like everyone else - stuck in a teen drama with all this. Pimps are smart. Theyre scary. Theyre masters of manipulati- HOW DO THEY NOT DO THE RESEARCH?! Viv wanted this sense of realism and dealing with sensitive topics in one of the worst executed ways Ive ever seen- It’s toxic. It’s dangerous. These are shit messages and your fans display that when they think all criticism is ‘hAtE’ and actively bully real people w REAL EXPERIENCES. Telling them to ‘stop pls’ does fuck all because you still promote shit messages straight after. Like with Stolas to Blitz in a IG story a day after Ep 2. Classy.  Fanservice seems desperate to keep these fans (rather than market correctly... Just like YanDev) and it leads to fans feeling like they have the audacity to steer the series. Poor business with WEAK boundaries. Viv, you lost your series a long time ago. Want it back? LISTEN TO LEGIT CRITICISM. Stop surrounding yourself with yes men. Even my best fucking friend calls me out when Im out of line because a real friend will fucking take the chance of hurting your feelings if it means helping you in the long run and grow.  Mick joked about the inside of Husk’s ears matching Angels coat, that the ears are cat’s most sensitive and vulnerable parts. 1) Cats vulnerable part is their tummy - hence why you need their trust first (alternatively yer get the odd cat that has full confidence they cat hurt you a lot faster than you can tickle them - I own one), 2) Its weird that Viv doesnt know this considering how many cats she has - its important to learn the language of those you love to give them your full understanding and a great bond 3) This romanticises sexual harassment more than it already is in the media (remember, theres women out there still murdered for saying no!) as well as reinforces the stereotypes of gay men forcing non-interested men into sex (again, a very toxic and unrealistic trope - a dangerous one thats led to gays being murdered!). And the ears design is unnecessarily overly complex considering those fuckin wings he supports. If the design adds nothing to the character but aesthetic, then it can go on the chopping block. Rules for simple animation. Besides from Angel sharing the same tooth as Val (who knows if that was added after he started working for Val as branding?) you could use this argument to say Pent or Al are soulmates for Angel because of having striped suits, or sharp teeth - no, it was intended as a joke that Viv fueled to irresponsibly because it’s not the first time she’s dodged publicly addressing something (something youll NEED to get used to in a big company), and she’s publicly dodged shit after this too so Im not putting faith in her until she can act professionally as the job requires. Likewise, professionals should consider what and how they joke as they’re presenting an image of a company/business. And people WILL eat that shit up face value regardless. In her stream #2, a fan requests for art of flustered angel and smug husk to fuel their ship. at 2:10:21, she does so. She’s also done this for Baxter x Niffty and Cherri x Tom. As a professional, you really should be avoiding this sort of thing in the name of fanservice. I get it, fanservice = financial gain. But it also results in empty meaning. It’s a shell of what the passion project once was, hence why you make the ENTIRE skeleton before involving others. The team help construct the muscles, tendons and organs. The public - moreso critics and the more experienced in those fields help sew the skin. Then you bring it to life, the fans become like blood. They aid to keep it alive. Even Ash and Mick mention Husk being ‘tsundere’. Im had most my piece about it earlier, however I’ll repeat and add some extras. Tsundere is an exaggerated personality, often used in younger characters. In terms of a relationship, it’s very immature, leads to poor communication and results in a toxic love. Science can back this up as well as the lack of realism. It’s more immature minds/hearts that go to what they interpret as tsundere in hopes of the love life the media portrays. A farce. Y’know what Angel needs? Someone open, honest, open to love and comforting. He doesnt need someone rebuffing and him chasing. It’s nothing more than an immature thrill. Once the love begins, it’s burns out QUICK. It’s far from sustainable or healthy. It’s not what either really need and further show Angel’s fixation on men who subconsciously remind him of his father. It’s not healthy. Another thing is a tsundere actually IS interested but shows it in the most immature and childish means possible. Would a really old bloke actually give a shit to play those sorts of games? No. Not one coming from a place like husk has. It’s painful how lacking in research and experience these people are. Science backs up that opposites solemnly attract also. In fact, they often either repel or only get as far as friendship.  Fan and Team Mentality in Brief: Im coming out with my ultimate pet peeve: if you’re going to have one of the MAIN characters be a gambler, do your research. The only background shit is a casino, LOADS of sex references (in Pride? Really?) and drugs. It’s like someone listing what they think is adult and tabboo and naughty. It’s yikes. Cards are almost always aces, 2s or blank. MOST are heart suits (like we need MORE red - we get it, it’s hell. But it’s an immature larvae stage hell). I get 2s and aces being easier to animate, however you have Husks wings, the entire of alastor, angels arms - if youre busting the budget for the menial then bust it to the cards. Theres like ONE spade. The full house isnt a full house (here’s a display of the fans lack of education on the matter as well which serves as a sure sign that they know just as little on any of this as SpindleHorse, they think it’s a sign on him being a card cheat. A card cheat. I aint saying hes not but what I AM saying is poker professionals are some of the most observant people in the world. Especially when money’s involved they’ll ensure youve got your facts right. That wouldnt fly at ALL. But theres more~ fans think Husk spent loaaaads of time staring at angel’s face in the IG poker out of <3 Newsflash. When you play poker you read EVERYONE like a book. Every little twist and twitch of the features. Its not about love. It’s about winning. Its about money. Play enough poker and it’s instinct if you want to actually play decently. Call bluffs. Life aint a fuckin romance.) And playing Poker at a BlackJack table? In a casino? These are all common knowledge and basics if you just research. And this is coming from someone with a history of this.  The fans even believed Tipsy Bartender’s ‘Peach Princess Cocktail’ was something Spindlehorse made as a beverage form of Niffty, Angel and even Charlie because of the name. Now, Im not expecting everyone to be a fuckin boozy either, but to not even consider it’s a very real drink does show that many fans are far too young for that 18+ label.  Fanart of HD often has Husk being OOC OR being held hostage (often via webs - one even being reblogged by Viv, aint that cute!). Some even have Husk completely intoxicated, which would be rape. Im not sugarcoating it. Because too many are getting the sweet treatment and copying Viv’s ‘dont address and it disappears!’ tactic - A LOT of internet celebs do it. The ship is drawn a lot by the team in the public eye, Viv reblogs it publicly (SL, HD, alongside canon only ships, how curious-). Husk is pan yet doesnt behave as the stereotype. And Id FULLY support this with my fucking SOUL (fun fact: you cant sell a soul. Thats myth to scare people-) if it was done correctly. But the way bisexuals, lesbians, gays and aces are portrayed so stereotypically (even Pan in terms of Val’s sexomania), it’s really REALLY uncomfortly coming across as Husk being pansexual JUST to make him an ‘option’ for Angel. Hell even the hets are given a shite representation. Some art btw has husk tricked into a kiss. Cute, we’re really starting to like blurring consent aint we? Remember, Angel has celeb power in his world. In the real world, he has a following. HE has the power in the ship massively. Hell, fans JUSTIFY Angels behaviour and absolutely rip Husk a new shithole if he fuckin even so as to DARE OPPOSE ANGELS MUCH DESERVED LOVE! - sarcasm because I have to make that shit clear now. Fans dont care about Husks feelings, he wasnt even popular until this ship started to explode. Y’know what would be cool and break stereotypes? An old straight white guy actually accepting his friends sexualities. The pan thing feels really fucking gimicky and exploitive and gross based on the history of all this shit. It feels disingenuine. Representation doesnt come from it just being there. What next? Katie whips on blackface to further show shes a bigoted knobhead whos white and straight? Dont get me wrong, Katie’s an arsehole but theres other means to show this rather than ALL HETS HATE THE BIG GAE. They dont. They really dont. But hey, we’ll show a gay man sexually harass every guy and root for him! NO. Thats fucked up. It makes gays look like the predators theyre not. It’s like the fucking 50s with modern tech - is that the real identity of Vox? Fuckin maybe. WHAT THEY NEED - FUCKING FINALLY, ITS THE END IVE BEEN ON THIS SHIT FOR DAYS WHILST SICK LUCKY ME EH? CAN YER FEEEEEEEL MY TIREDNESS OF FANDOMS AND CREATORS EXCUSING SHITTY THINGS FOR CLOUT, MONEY, FAME AND OTHER DUMB SHIT? IF YOU CANT, THEN WHAT THE FUCK, AND OTHER NEWS: Right. Lets get our main shit. Compatibility between the pair is really low - lower than even the team seems to see. And yer old fart of a Hag here’s gotta use my personal suffering as an example because thats what the cool kids do, right? Their friendship compatibility is high. VERY high. But low for love. HEALTHY love. In terms of convo flow, it only has a river when insults are flying, otherwise Husk actively cuts Angel short or outright annoys him. In reality, someone like Husk would gross out Angel, but the cute cat look can turn that the fuck around - JUST the look. Fans and the team oddly think it’s cute though. Yes, I remember being negged at the bar and thinking “BOY arent my pants flooded like the fuckin planet when the ice caps are melting”. There’s no click. Theres infatuation and lust one sided based on looks. Husk isnt even remotely interested and no means delayed yes apparently. Angel as a rape VICTIM should know better than to blur consent like this. Angel isnt a rapist [for the skim reading raging stans ANGELS NOT A RAPIST, YAAAAAY!] but he sure has a shit grip on when he’s looking like Val when Val forced Angel into a kiss by not accepting rejection. It’s. CREEPY. Its fuckin weird. Husk is literally named after being a shell of his former self, I doubt random sex and forced interest is gonna make him spring to life like bastard Zeberdy from the Magic Pissin Roundabout. Honestly, sexual harassment and addictions are treated the same in this - a joke. A punchline. A gag. Sure makes me fuckin gag. Nah, the more healthier Chaggie relationship (needs work on Charlies damn part - dont let freaky taxidermy men sexually assault your life partner like that) is booooring, lets focus on sexual harassment leading to true love like all the other shitty romcoms shall we? Or sugar coat it with ‘getting to know them better <3′ like Beauty and the Beast. A story, by yours truly: My mom’s mates with this woman. Lets call her M because her name starts with an M. M is just like Angel except slightly older, overweight and disabled - so not everyones cup of tea visually (shes neither here nor there to me imo, not like I hold interest in shaggin her). Like Angel, she fuckin flirts with any ANY man around her. She’ll even touch without consent, rub allllll up and down their backs and bodies, and not leave them alone. She even did this with a few gay men. Shes not a horrible person BUT mom and I are constantly trying to stop her and get through her head how DISGUSTING this treatment is. But nothing gets the message across. Shes ALWAYS talking men and sex and has an on/off fling with this one bloke (dont worry, hes the male M, cheats and does the same as her). Everyone, even women, are uncomfortable with this. Irl it’s desperate and a HUGE repellent. Men are visibly SO uncomfortable. She does it to my father too who is - in case youd forgotten - MARRIED TO HER BEST. FUCKING. FRIEND. My father is not a man of fear (and interestingly, hes one of the real life Huskers I know!) but this woman? *insert Heavy bc why tf not* She scares him. My dad does everything in his damn power to pull away, reject, resist, avoid and cut her off. The only reason hes even nice to her at all is because mom likes her (when M isnt a gross hornbag, shes genuinely a good friend to my mother - much like angel and Cherri). My dad’s strictly banned from insulting her or telling her to fuck off from my mother BECAUSE of her nature with him. Even at her non horny times, he’s even said shes not his flavour.  I’ve had numerous accounts like this myself (ask any woman-) but the worst was the guy thinking - THINKING - that Id eventually be his whilst he played up a lot of our similarities up, seemed nice and I actually thought I had a good guy friend (put it this way, Im genuinely scared of men because of guys like this). At this time, there was a character I discovered who looks and behaves SO much like me, and shes married. My simping arse for this fictional BEAUT [Im sorry but Iris is fucking awesome] compared her romantic traits towards Olgerd as something Id do - and this was a STATUS. It wasnt even too him, tagging him, nothing. I was just spamming Iris like the Iris whore I am, and... Yep. Ill be honest and say that God only knows what else I did that made him think I was ready to rip off my clothes and shag him. My post history back then showed Im like this when I find a character I relate to. I also send hearts a lot publicly and to friends to express joy - I get NERVOUS how that’ll be taken now. He tried to pit my ex friend and I against each other for him and even cyberstalked us pretending to be a girl named Raven. My GUT told me this aint no bastard ‘Raven’. The vibes he gave me, and the fact when I kept saying no he took it as a delayed yes (He even said “Ill wait for when youre ready” not “I understand and am happy to still be friends”) gave me literal nightmares of this guy tracking me down and raping me. He’s currently dating that ex friend (I was still willing to be their friend and support them but they said it was hard to keep us separate in her lifes and she didnt want conflict, so I cut it off amicably with her and I fuckin hope he treats her right. I even sensed in my gut she’d like him and he’d like her - even that theyd be good together! But then I found she was 17 and he was 10 years older, that he was cyberstalking and pitting us against each other, that he was secretly an arrogant fuck and that he gives off red flags like her ex’s - but shes passed 18 now and I want to trust her as an adult that she can deal with this. Shes got a good family.) As a kid, Ive been fuckin groped at school in my shitty neighbourhood. One kid even harassed me wanting to know if Id started my periods yet. Hed constantly fondle girls and ‘keg’ them aka yank down their skirts or trousers in public, and 2 years later held a fucking KNIFE to my throat in a classroom with the shittiest substitute teacher, all because I stood up to him (I was not known for my bravery at school so). He was harassing my female friend who suffers from it since as well as her upbringing, bullying her and stealing her stuff. Shes TINY. She was bullied just as bad as I - who was somehow both the school ghost AND pariah somehow- - and I stepped in and told him to cut that shit out before snatching her things back. I told her to ignore the desperate prick. Thats when he took a boxcutter and held it to my throat, threatening me to keep my head down. Now my neighbourhood fucking qualifies as the British ‘hood’ but Id been lucky to avoid this. Ironically, I wondered what this situation would be like a year prior. Im convinced I can fucking foresee bad shit now and with anxiety that aint good. I froze mentally and I just said “Wooow, Im fucking scared- *friends name*, ignore him” and continued my work. I fucking mentally kicked myself for speaking but I genuinely didnt know what to do. Obviously not fucking that. He sat the full TWO HOURS at our table with this knife, jolting forward mockingly and switching who he pointed it at. The knife btw was from that very room as it was graphics and art. Teacher didnt even notice though honestly Ive had an entire class throw shit at me and call me a whore and the teacher in that class looked at me and TURNED AWAY. End of the day, I reported it to my actual graphics teacher when he returned and he told me he’d take this higher up and to get my parents. My home was only 5 minutes away but I had to walk alone when most the students were gone AND through a fucking alleyway. I always walked with my head low but that day I kept it high and tried to look brave because I genuinely thought he was waiting for me. That he was going to rape and kill me because he’s a pervert and Id just discovered a fucking violent one at that. I broke down at my door. Do you know how fuckin hard it is to look your parents who are dealing with two cancer patients and other issues in the eyes and tell them their ‘little girl’ had a knife to her through for standing up for herself? We went back, I described everything and even remember the yellow-orange handle just to get this kid punished? I even wrote an official police statement (well, the written witness account they add to their statement and evidence) and had to speak on mine and my friend’s behalf because she was that shook up. I never even used to speak for myself! He got expelled, but yknow what us jolly folk dealt with? Hearing kids and his mates mumbling about the ‘rat’ and how much of a cunt they were. Teachers and kids praise him for his art skills and even pin them on display EVERYWHERE (one - ONE - was a fucking self portrait and none of the staff seemed to find issue in that) and even an occassion where he came back into the school when he legally wasnt (trespassing). Do you know how hard it is to fucking avoid someone without raising suspicions from everyone around you in a narrow corridor? Im TALL too. I got NO support from this and felt on edge because he could easily sneak into school. I couldnt say shit because his stupid ‘spies’ were about. Just typing this is upsetting enough- I also know a rl Angel who’s like him minus the sexual harassment. She’s... I never used to like her and visa versa but we actually get along really well now, even though she can be creepy and perverse- But she wouldnt be my type either nor I with her. Often we really fuck each other off but we can also bond great. Another incident reminds me of Husk’s candid photo. Ive had people keep my photo despite me saying not to however I had someone SOMEHOW at that school one the fuck up that. There was a cut out from a magazine of a lady who looked like my DOUBLE except she was asian. Now I thought this was cool and it made me feel sorta pretty. This one girl showed everyone and the teacher, pretty much everyone was like “Oh shit that really is you, C!” and it was harmless fun at first. Until I wanted the picture. Again, this woman looked EXACTLY like me. Yet this girl refused and said she wanted to keep it and even carried it around in her pencil case. Yes it wasnt me but due to the similarities, this photo was called me (tbf the fuckin pic got more respect than I did-). This isnt the only creepy instant between me and this girl but the photo reminds me of it. And this tops people keeping photos OF me which happened in primary school. This was me but legal at that time. And asain. It was super fucking neckbeardy the way she treated this photo and stared, often stroking it and looking at me. I just hope she was only trying to scare me. Theres one final instance of a sexual assault but Im just not yet ready to be public about it. 2 here already know. Those are some of my rl experiences and more to come (unfortunately) that show these behaviours in real life. It seems - it comes across - that sexual harassment, MORE SO TOWARDS MEN, is seen as some punchline and not something legitimately horrifying or dangerous. It’s not cute. It’s fucking FAR from it.  Ive already mentioned how putting two addicts together can lead to relapsing, dependence on each other in an unhealthy way. And Ive even mentioned what Angel needs in a relationship in the RD post. Luckily for you, I’ll copy and paste it here: “ We need to think about where both are mentally. What benefits would a relationship give both? How would they be good and bad for each other? For Al, aside from his outdated views and being a fucking murderer and narcissist, he actually seems in a good mindspace for a relationship IF he opted to be in one. Angel however has a very immature mindset, likewise is in a phase of life where hes bed hopping. IF he were to be in a relationship, I’d say he needs a male equivalent of Cherri - someone with a similar mindset yet some differences, willing to have fun and in touch with their younger side, down to cuddle, open to share and receive love as well as not afraid to publicly be affectionate with him, someone who sees him as more than just for sex, someone fun, someone who’ll let him embrace his cutesy side publicly without shame - Cherri is younger so maybe someone who’s his age or slightly younger perhaps? I think Angel’s not retirement home ready to settle and needs someone on his level that can cuddle and chill as well as feels free and youthful enough to go wild with him. In one sense, he’s got a teen girl sorta mindset (dont put him with a teen though, it’s fuckin weird-). He needs someone positive and raw, someone to let him be himself as well as someone comfortable to be themselves around him. He has a habit of latching onto unobtainable men (in psychology, this is self sabotaging subconsciously): Travis the client, Val a pimp, Husk (emotionally unavailable and needs HEAVY self work - interestingly far more than Angel - plus he’s still onto his last relationship and an addict to gambling and alcohol), Pent who’s the enemy he was currently fighting (inappropriate timing), Alastor who’s not interested in another but his own needs [selfish, VERY bad for a relationship]. Subconsciously he’s self sabotaging on purpose. There’s many psychology books as well as sources online for this, if you’re interested. Either way, Angel is drawn to men either like his father [who dislike him, shun him, or are otherwise cold, abusive or just blatantly dislike or otherwise dont care about him] or anyone with money to fuel his drug addiction/’debt’ to Val. Going with any of these men isn’t a good idea. Preferably, Angel needs someone who he doesnt immediately crush and obsess over. Someone who he doesnt sexually harass or assault. Someone he can build a connection with quickly that can bud into romance (think how Chaggie started as a friendship which clicked immediately). Maybe even someone he doesn’t expect to fall for but does so anyways. It would be more realistic as Viv wants as well as more healthy. That for once he isnt sex or money craved instantly, thus doesnt sexually harass/assault and is given a proper chance to develop and grow a friendship and love. Someone who isnt an addict. Someone with an on-par mindset where they click. Someone open to love. For any chance of a good relationship, Angel needs to be with anyone BUT who we’ve already seen. There’s too much toxicity that’ll be swept under the rug and justified otherwise. Too much shit to fuel homophobes in terms of gay stereotypes. Even though Ive focused a fair bit on Angel, it’s NOT just about Angel. That’s something fans forget. Some he depends on or someone who depends on him in the long term wont last and will be very dangerous to both. Just because you suffer, you dont then deserve to be rewarded with ‘something nice’. You dont get to have everything youve ever wanted. Giving him any of these blokes [minus Val] gives him a pass. Gives him what he wants. I get Viv loves him but life doesnt work that way. True lasting growth comes from learning that. Acceptance and growth. You dont get everything you want and sometimes thats a GOOD thing. He’s not a spoilt kid who gets everything he asks for, he’s YOUR creation. If you really wanted what your creations deserve then you need to research and be realistic with it. Because hes starting to feel like a shitty Gary-Stu at this rate.” Sorry for that copypaste clusterfuck. Copy paste is not my forte lol Now Husk. Remember Big? Probably not after the info overload, but if you do GREAT. Big needed love, patience, understanding, someone who could help him, someone who understood and respected his boundaries. I spent so much damn time and now he cuddles up and exposes his tummy because I make him feel understood, loved and safe. He NEVER purred or meowed (why would he need to meow when he didnt speak to humans?) but now he does. He lives on the streets of a neighbourhood with rough folk. He used to draw blood and go rabid on my arms. But I was patient and showed him that I understood his reasons but that he was safe with me and had no need to strike out. I never pushed his boundaries let alone doing it multiple times (the rl angel I know is fucking skilled at pushing cat’s boundaries and wonders why they all huddle up to me and avoid her lol). Husk is an unavailable man. Romantic/Sexual love does NOT heal his wounds. But thats the only thought fans and the team have given on his side. He needs love to ‘fix’ him. The WORST reason to get with someone. Theyre not a project and you arent a fucking miracle worker. Treat them as an equal. He needs a good friend. JUST a friend. Like Big, he needs patience, trust, understanding, and extensive help (arguably more intense than Angel’s). He needs to love himself a bit more FIRST. Someone who respects his boundaries INSTANTLY. Someone relatable and similar, open to love not just sex and not as troubled (if they are, they need to handle it way better, healthily and overall be in a good mindspace). Viv can ship whatever the fuck tickles her fancy, but once your passion project becomes public and funded, you have set responsibilities on how to address and handle sensitive issues as well as having to accept criticism. If Husk goes sober in the name of love (ESPECIALLY with the guy not respecting his boundaries and sexually harassing him), then it’s a fucking INSULT to alcoholics.  I know a few rl Husks but there’s one that anyone who knows me enough knows the man I hold closest to my heart was an alcoholic and spitting of Husk. That’s why Husk’s character means so much to me. But there’s only 2 here who know a bit more of this man. This is something Id hoped to not share so soon, nor as messy. And Im already getting waterworks because this is FAR from easy. I guess Husk became the very thing *I* needed in order to face this. This man was my grandfather. WAS. I cant even fucking accept that. I was a fucking child. I feel stupid being so open about this over some stupid cartoon but it just shows the real life effects this has on REAL fucking people. This man was old and lonely. Always at the pubs. He taught me card games, card tricks and card magic as well as one of his own sons dealing with a gambling addiction. I feel so fucking stupid crying about this- I dont want to open up but its the only way I feel I can get people to understand my side in all of this. This man was a fucking MESS. A closed off, lonely, grumpy old bastard. He lost his love because of his alcohol addiction and never found love again. Never got over that woman. (Shes still kicking and we’re close - im keeping some things under wraps between them as its not my place). Gave up on life and love. Worked hard at his fixation on cards and puzzles, as well as crass jokes and knowledge. But he was very lazy otherwise. Bitter and angry. And you know what? He was my world. I love this man with every fiber of my being because he was the first person to love and accept me for me. He treated me as an equal and helped me grow as a person. In fact... He was only ever happy around us kids. He had hope again. Protected me. He used to hate gays and blacks and you know what? He taught HIMSELF as to why that was shitty thinking. He taught ME about differences in people and to accept it. He taught me that you dont always have to understand to accept. He taught me poker and... swears admittedly. He was a beautiful soul that was broken inside. He needed to love himself. But you know what actually fucking happened? You know what I watched as a kid? I watched as he smoked until every morning he woke throwing up phlegm just to BREATHE. I watched as sometimes the light in his eyes died and through smoke breaks and early drinking how he’d sometimes slip and show me his pain. And we’d have deep talks about it and the world and everything. How alcohol ruined his life yet he craved it. His scent. I remember arguments I wasnt supposed to overhear and growing up seeing him fucking DIE slowly in a hospital bed. The man he was ended up as a fucking husk. His skin was bloated and purple, he was half machine on how much shit he was hooked up to. How he was barely a man at all. He was dying of cancer and he fucking knew and never told us. His cancer meds gave him horrid hallucinations. And I practically spent most of my time in that hospital because TWO people had cancer. Two stunning people had fucking stupid bastard cancer. He was a fuck up. He was flawed to shit. But seeing glimpses of the real him was a fucking ethereal experience. He made me feel like a PERSON. And all we could do in the end was watch him just die. He WANTED to die and you could see it but hed only eat around us to fake fight out of his own hubris and not wanting to let us down. That year, I watched 2 of the only people who ever gave a shit about me die the most dishonourable deaths God could have gave them. Years prior I watched his son gamble EVERYTHING away - his lover, his house, his everything. Hes a moderate gambler now with a partner who never had a history of any addiction. She helps keep him in line as he helps her. But most nights I fucking dream of this shit. I cant even think about my hero because I fucking weep. I still have nightmares. Im still up thinking how I could have saved him from himself when it’s him who was the only one able to. I have to live my life with those memories and I was just a kid. Im a full woman and Im still haunted by it. Even that year is blasphemy and I fucking hate it. I want to take him in my arms, hold him and tell him he’s enough. That its ok and he can get through this. Anything that reminds me of him, I love because I know the other side. The real side. The side not tethered to vices. When I see people like that, I pray they see themselves like that too and I want to help them see it. Tell them that they can live again. It’s better than fucking decaying in a hospital bed. That when people make this sorta shit into a cute quirk it’s not. And it’s dickheads like me who have actually seen it play in the real world to REAL people they love. They arent a fucking accessory to fix for your own narrative. They arent a fuckin performing monkey. At least with Rick and Morty it’s kinda humorous and never played for some shitty toxic ship to appeal to everyone who’s never had to face that shit themselves. And Im like my old man but with more hope and no addiction. I drink and I gamble but I’ll never let myself get that low. Because I honour him but Im not as fucking saft. I wont allow it even though it’s a fucking battle. Those addictions are in the blood. My family history. Its always been so fucking normal. I’ll never knock someone for an addiction or try to preach them out of it because theres often pain fueling it, but I’d never encourage it or toxic faux cures and stupid romance promises as some bullshit MLM remedy either. I KNOW it’s fiction but I want people to see the real side. I want VIV to see the real side. Id willingly for FREE fucking sing that shit if it meant spreading a good message. Because this is fucking hell. FIXING IT: The ship’s basis is too set in stone now - too familiar to change. Best is to never let it be canon. Because you know what else it teaches? That rOmAnCe cures all. Not therapy. Not rehab. Not any REAL work. Just fuck and date it all away as if it’s that easy. It’s a mockery! I tried to be professional about this but when the media bombards this shit constantly, the has the AUDACITY to play like it’s giving a good message is salt to the wounds. A kiss with a fist. An old man dont care for the petty teen drama that Angel and Cherri (even fuckin Al) thrive on. Want this to send a good message still? Angel hates rejection and thinks everyone wants him. Have Husk reject him. Especially because no one should go out with someone whos sexually harassed them there. Been there, done that got the fuckin tshirt. Have Husk reject Angel the way Gravity Falls has Wendy reject Dipper. It helped Dipper move on and mature, and this is what Angel needs for growth and to be more humble.  Husk would be a fucking excellent mentor to Angel, a friend and protector, someone who shows him the ropes like Grunkle Stan like a grandfather figure. To not fall for his mistakes. Husk would be a better expert than any of them plus it balances the power dynamtic. It’s healthy and realistic. Touches the topic with the sensitivity it needs. Not everything needs a ship or romance. Wounds healed that way dont stay healed long. Angel seems more fitting as a son like figure, and he can play that dad like role for him. And if any of the team EVER saw this, fucking take this idea. Its YOURS. FREE. FOREVER. If we wanna play this NDA but still reblog some of the story telling arts and have some of our team indulge in it. I wont sue. Fucking TAKE IT if it means doing this shit right because Spindlehorse have beautifully triggered so many different people and their different traumas to please teenagers sexual fantasies, their own kinks and for a jolly good joke.  This is a bastard long read and Ive had to face the traumas again but if good can come from it then I’ll GLADLY dance this duet again. Stans, Antis, dont even TEMPT interaction. You arent brave sending suicide threats behind a screen, youre a coward and a waste of oxygen. I WANT Hazbin and Helluva to succeed. I want Viv and her crew to do well. Trust me, I wouldnt waste my time if I didnt give a shit. Viv is fucking gifted and its being wasted if it’s not at her full potential for the approval of a rabid army of kids and immature adults who dont know any better (stans and antis). I know she would like a good and decent fanbase. Stans and antis arent it. Tagging you folks because it’s long but yall actually helped me have the courage to open my trap to this. Screenshots are coming later though all of what Ive said is easily sourced. But this has been days, Im sick, im tired, ive been upset facing my own traumas. If any tags wanna help then by all means but otherwise. @honesthazbinarchives, @siaesnow​ (also added age still bc despite the lack of physical aging, theres also the mental aspect and experiences as well as power dynamics side to it, in case youre wondering), @noirellearts, @enchantedchocolatebars​, @galemalio​ (thank you for letting me weep like a bitch), @angel-blitz​, @critical-hazbin​, @what-the-hazbin​, @hazboobhotel​, @pineapple-critiques-stuff​, @devils-advocutie​, SORRY AGAIN FOR BEING A LIL BITCH FOLKS, I feel awkward like my teen years but yeah- fuck it Im old and imma rot soon anyways. If this experience can help then Ill be glad.

[felixclinton]

A QUEER SHORT STORY

(A TRUE STORY 😞)

Hi! My name is clinton. I'm 19 and I'm just as depressed as you are. I know right! Teenagers!! We are always emotional and psycopathic sometimes. Ive hard a time growing up as a teenager in this part of the world where homophobia is like the headline of everybody's mouth. My entire life is full of secrets, no freedom of expression or whatsoever. But let's leave that for another time. I want to tell you how I saw hell after my parents found out I was gay.

I just graduated from high school, every one was very happy, especially my mom. She would go about telling people I'm her first issue and that I just graduated. She was very proud of me. She never stopped talking about me, she never stopped loving me, well not partially because she gave birth to four us and I'm the first, she loved all four of us equally, and accordingly.

Luckily for me I got admitted to study computer engineering in gregory university(a private university) that same year I graduated from high school. My parents were happy once again. I to was very happy, because I got to enter university, I had the chance to be free, and to live life without my parents ordering me about here and there. I was 16 then and it was very sweet.

I got in, school had already began, then I had already started using my first android phone. Yes my parents promised to get me one if I got admitted, and they did. Right there in school, I was much of an introvert, I never had anybody to call a friend, I also never had the chance to go out and be me, you know like club and party, but I enjoyed those quiet lone moments I had right there in school. Some people made fun of me, because I was that skinny quiet boy everybody would always laugh at or bully, well not because I was ugly, I wasn't ugly, I guess it's because I was a novice and it was very bad, literally everybody hated to hang out with me. My parents would call and I would tell them everything is fine and I'm very much happy.

The semester was over and I got home for the holidays. I missed home a bit honestly, my mom was happy to see me once again, my dad was, my siblings was happy to, not until the day the same happiness we all had faded away right in the snap of a finger.

I was shamed, cursed, abused, threatened, and worse DISOWNED 😞.

I am a nigerian boy, my name is clinton, and this is were it all began.

WATCH OUT FOR (PART 2)

[ad1thi]

top 5 fanworks of 2020

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

tagged by: @iam93percentstardust, @omg-just-peachy

rated in order of least to most favourite: 

1.  a helping hand - buckytony, mcu, established relationship, 1k, K+

Bucky wants to shave his beard. Tony helps.

i really enjoy the intimacy involved in acts of service, and there’s always something so small and treasured about shaving,,,the trust involved in letting someone that close to your face with a knife, the intimacy in being no more than a couple of breaths away from each other, the faith that the other person won’t fuck up your face by giving you a weird shave -- i just love the layers to shaving someone else,,,and i just had to make it buckytony. this is a really short fic (as most of my fics are) but i really love it

2. broken pieces (me and you) fit together perfectly - samrhodey, mcu, developing relationship, post IW, 1.5k, K+

After Thanos, after the Snap, after Sam loses everything familiar, he finds Jim.

//

AU-gust Day 5: Post Apocalyptic AU

i really enjoy samrhodey, i really enjoy the idea of Rhodey only being a couple year’s ahead of Sam and Sam having a big crush on him, i really like the idea of both of them bonding when they join the Avengers post AoU, i really like the idea of this simple, easy relationship developing between them in this very soft and understated way, but ive never actually written them before this fic - which is why im so proud of this fic, because i like the story ive weaved here

3. princely duties - thortony, mcu, asgardian tony AU, meet cute, 1.6k, K+

Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of the Realm of Asgard, Brother of Loki the Silvertongue, son to Frigga the Kind and Odin the Great, was known for a great many things.

He was known for his great looming stature, stranding tall and proud even for an Asgardian, with muscles that rippled and tensed as he walked. He was known for his illustrious hair, a thick blond mane that he'd taken a vow to never cut, braided and cascading down his shoulders in thick waves. He was known for his might on the battlefield, for the terror he struck through the heart of his enemies when he called lighting itself down to rain fire on those who dared oppose him.

He was known for being a gentle prince, for always having an ear open and the time for a pitcher of ale. He was known for the bond he had with his brother Loki - how the two of them had curled around each other at birth, his tiny fist clenched around his brother's equally tiny pinky, and never let go.

But more than any of that, Thor Odinson was known for never taking a Consort, in all his years.

//

AU-gust Day 9: Royalty AU

Ostensibly, this is a thortony fic, but i really like this fic because of the relationship i wrote for Thor and Loki. i do hope to continue this some day, to expand this verse into a couple of related one shots that show Thor and Tony’s relationship overtime, and develop more on Thor and Loki as brothers because i think we were really robbed of that in the mcu - but this is one of my better AU-gust fills, for sure

4. the things we tell ourselves in the dark - stevetony, emh, skrulls, angst, 1.1k, K

“Still,” he turns away from Tony, because he doesn’t want to hurt him, but if he doesn’t get this out, it might eat him alive, “I was with them for months Tony. Months. How did you not notice? How did you not know it wasn't me?”

this is one of the few stevetony fics ive written all year, because ive sort of fallen out of love with the ship but emh brought it back in full force. i wrote this entire fic in 20 minutes literally the second i finished the Secret Invasion episode because there was such delicious angst and it begged to be written, and im so happy with how this turned out. i personally, am always quite worried that characters sometimes sound OOC in my fics, but i definitely didn’t have that issue with this fic, and i just really enjoyed writing it

5. 1000 lives (for you) - buckytony, mcu, soulmates AU, tws compliant, 14.7k, T

On the 10th of December 1991, the Asset is taken out of cyro, and there is a name on his right wrist.

On the 16th of December 1991, he is sent out to shoot the tyre of a car, and then kill the man and woman inside.

When he returns to base, there is a boy, no older than 17, chained to the wall of his room, shivering and bravely fighting back tears.

It does not occur to the Asset until much later than these two events are connected.

//

AU-gust Day 3: Soulmates AU

this is currently my largest fic till date, and it is such a labour of love. i don’t think ive ever worked this hard, or this long on a fic, and it’s definitely the fic i am the most proud of from 2020. im having so much fun writing this, and im really hoping that everybody reading this is really enjoying it too because i have so many ideas for this verse and it’s possibly one of my favourite things ive written ever -- not just this year

+

Bonus: the morning after - mcdanno, hawaii 5 o, established relationship, 1k, T

“I know I say this a lot,” Danny’s voice is still gruff with sleep, and he peers at Steve with one eye, as if opening both is too bright for him. He’s half twisted so he can face Steve, and the show of flexibility isn’t helping with Steve’s mission to keep things PG-13, “but today - you are literally a pain in my ass.”

i very recently got into hawaii 5 o, but i truly love these idiots with all my heart and soul, and it’s been so long since i immersed myself in a new fandom or wrote for any other characters, so i wanted to celebrate that by choosing my favourite h5o fic from this year. the thing about mcdanno is that they really do write themselves, and there’s so much potential with them that a lot of what i write is stuff you can truly imagine just happens off screen on the show. anyway, Danny is always calling Steve a pain in his ass, and i just thought it would be funny if Steve was literally a pain in this ass, and then this small one shot happened

//

those are my top 5 fanworks of 2020!! tagging @deathsweetqueen, @diazalex, @rhodee, @aleator, @starklysteve and as always, anybody else who feels like doing this!!

[samwrights]

When You Wake

I literally cannot believe I wrote this. This was originally started to celebrate Yaku’s birthday (happy belated, my love), and to satisfy the requests for a Noya/Yaku threesome. Uh, don’t come for me. I couldn’t find inspiration in the normal hq world, so we’re making it weird. If y’all thought Between the Lines was long, this monstrosity is 13.2k words. 13,200 words, with a shameful, side amount that is smut. Literally, this is all just plot.

ear candy list is, surprisingly, on the smaller side. 

⤞ Revenga - System of A Down ⤞ Violent Pornography - System of A Down ⤞ Question! - System of A Down

pairing: Yaku/Reader/Noya

w a r n i n g s//TW: rape, murder, blood consumption, mentions of getting roofied, gore, blood from wounds, supernatural AU, revenge, temporarily mute reader, reader is converted to a vampire without consent, dubcon, death, spitroasting, dirty talk, senpai kink. PLEASE read through these warnings over and over until it is clear to you that this is not going to be an easy read. The reader literally goes on a revenge spree. ⤞ THIS. IS NOT. AN EASY. READ.

Now that you have been thoroughly warned, enjoy.

The way media and films and television glorified and romanticized college parties never could have prepared you for the fateful encounter in the alleyway on a muggy August evening. Primarily, college parties were depicted as fun—drunk nights on the weekends with your girlfriends, maybe hook up with that cute boy from chemistry that somehow ended up with you grinding on him on the dance floor. Though, in some genres, college parties end up with the protagonist roofied and raped and follows how the heroine spirals and recovers. But it only was supposed to happen in the movies, right?

It wasn’t supposed to end with you halfway to death, knocking on Hell’s door with blood pooling around your lifeless body in a barely lit, bleak alleyway. It wasn’t supposed to end with warbles of light fading in and out of your vision as cars passed you by, unknowing there was someone in the alleyway between a closed down butcher shop and a florist who had already gone home for the evening. You were only in your early twenties with only two more years of university to compete—it wasn’t supposed to end yet.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“I think she’s too far gone, Yaku. We were too late.”

The voices swirling around you were unfamiliar, or at least from what you could gather. In your condition, it was impossible to discern them in the first place—were they even real voices? They sounded entirely too angelic from what you could process in your catatonic state. Maybe they weren’t; maybe death had taken you without your knowledge and the jury that decided whether or not your soul would ascend to heaven was passing their judgment on you.

“I can save her, Noya.” One of the voices, presumably this Yaku character snarls back with urgency. It is the last thing you hear before your limp body is pulled from the concrete. The movement, regardless of how delicate, causing more blood to rush from your open wounds and draining any ounce of consciousness from your mind. “You mind trying to collect the fallout?”

Nishinoya, though shaking his head, gives a subtle grin that cannot be seen in the dead of the night. He pulls out a large mason jar from the satchel he’s carrying and places the mouth of the jar where blood is pouring out profusely from a knife wound. The man collecting the blood knew entirely too well that once his mate sets his mind to something, there was no changing it. Not that it served as a recurring issue; if anything, Noya was grateful for Yaku’s stubbornness considering it was that exact trait of his that had given the former his second chance at life.

The two of them move swiftly, trying to make it back to their hidden mansion, that was quite a distance away, in secret. Yaku is doing all that he can to make sure not to disturb your body so as not to open any wounds further that could force you to bleed out and meet the grim reaper. He wasn’t a very pleasant creature, but that was a story for another day. At the same time, Nishinoya is almost fighting to keep the same steadfast pace while simultaneously holding the now half full mason jar just under the knife wound. The blood was beginning to thicken, turning from bright red to a deep crimson as it oxidizes.

The moment they enter their private garden, Nishinoya busts down the door to their home with expertise, alerting the other members of their clan. “Akaashi!” He screeches, his voice bellowing out in decibels that should not be used unless trying to project a voice in an amphitheater with no microphone. Thank omniscient beings for noise cancelling enchantments. “We need you!” An almost timid, young looking man enters the foyer where Noya is still collecting blood and Yaku is holding your limp body in his arms.

“So that’s where you two have been,” Akaashi deadpans, unfazed by the steadily decaying girl. “Bring her to my room. You can store what blood you’ve gathered there while I remove the knife and get her patched up.” Though calm, the three of them move at breakneck speeds, laying you face down on an operating table while Akaashi suits up. From what he can tell, this was going to be a real mess, considering how deep the knife is. The three of them knew what was to come and what their designated roles in this moment were—Nishinoya was to separate the blood he had gathered from your body and ration them into IV bags, while Yaku was provide suction in case of a bleed out.

“We can save her, can’t we?” Yaku asks quietly, tools in hand.

“That will depend on her will to fight,” Akaashi says quietly, half due to concentration, half because he genuinely does not have a valid answer. “You’ve done this time and time again, Yaku. If anyone is going to save her, it’s going to be you.”

Upon coming to, the only muscles in your body that can move are your eyelids. Peeling them back as much as you can muster, you notice the only light filtering into whatever room you are currently residing in is coming from the blaring moonlight through an open window. The shadows around you make up areas and shapes that you are entirely unfamiliar with, causing you to sit up impulsively to make sense of your surroundings. A mistake on your part, as you are immediately met with a searing pain in your ribs. With further inspection from your droopy eyes, you learn that your torso is entirely bare, save for the copious amounts of medical grade bandages and gauze around your breasts and stomach. Blood pooled somewhere along your left shoulder blade where the pain felt the worst.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up right now.” The same voice you faintly remember from the alley, the one that didn’t want to leave you, before blacking out calls out from across the bedroom. The room is quite large from what you could tell and his smooth voice seems to be leagues away. “Lay back down before you bleed out again—I’ll change your bandages.” From the shadows, a man whom you presume to be Yaku emerges before you, perfect pale skin and sandy brown locks nearly reflecting in the moonlight as he approaches. His face, while incredibly handsome, is blank and is strictly business as he saunters near. Even as he is gingerly tearing off the tight bindings around you with next to no effort, his face remains nonplussed. Even as he washes the dried, crusty blackened blood off your bare chest, nothing. “Do you remember anything?” Yaku’s voice is quiet and somber as he asks his question. He takes your silence as a no.

Your mind is a hazy smog, trying to recall any type of memory at all. Rather than actual imagery, you see a white light when you close your eyes—you see colors you don’t remember seeing before, you hear crying. You hear your name. Not just your first name or a nickname either, you hear your entire given name along with your birthday, even the time of birth.

Any attempt to recall memories is interrupted by a sharp pain. You suck in a breath as Yaku tries to lift your arm to wrap the fresh bandages around your torso, causing him to grimace ever so slightly. This task was a bit easier for him when you were still unconscious, but nonetheless he is glad you’re awake. When the pain subsides, you peel your eyelids back once again, staring at the man sitting at the edge of the bed in wonder. Why was he tending to your wounds? How did he fit into the story? “You needn’t worry about that right now, [name],” he murmurs quietly, reintroducing the same delicate tone you heard before blacking out in the alley. Yaku can tell you’re wondering how he knew what to respond with and how he knew your name but, after a small deliberation, he decides it’s best not to overwhelm you right now. “Get some rest, little one,” he speaks again, “I’ll be here when you wake.” Before you know it, you’re out like a light once again.

Yaku exits his and Noya’s shared bedroom to dispose of the sullied bandages, only to be greeted to the sight of his mate leaning against the bannister closest to their room. “How’s she doing?” Yaku’s lips tighten, the seam becoming a hard line as his grimace deepens.

“She doesn’t remember anything but when I asked her if she did...”

“What?” Noya presses, perturbed at the silence. Very few things in their lives rendered Yaku speechless.

“She started seeing memories of her birth.” The two shorter leaders of the clan meander their way down the grandiose staircase in silence, each step accompanied by the dramatic chimes of a grand piano coming from the foyer. The music stops when they reach the bottom of the staircase, Sugawara pausing his fingers and quirking a brow at the couple. It was a rare occurrence to see both of them, or Nishinoya in the very least, look so morose.

“What’s got you guys looking so down? You look like someone just died.” The musician muses. Sugawara Koushi always did have the most twisted sense of humor—that was partially the reason that Yaku had kept him around. The other primary reason was solely for bragging rights and an inside joke between the clan because no matter how many times Sugawara introduced himself as Beethoven or Bach, people assumed that they all just meant he was talented. Not that it was literal and Sugawara was just a name he’d adopted when he earned another century of life.

“Ha ha,” Nishinoya drawls satirically, for both himself and for Yaku. The latter excuses himself, parting ways because he knows he can’t handle conversation right now. “Come on, Suga, that’s not funny. Yaku’s already taking this really hard and if we lose her...”

“Humans die all the time, Nishi. A conversion isn’t a guaranteed shot at a second life and Yaku knows that so why is he—“

“Because she was found just like I was. Wrong place at the wrong time and it ended with...” the shorter of the two can no longer find the words to speak. It didn’t matter how many centuries old everyone in the clan was, it didn’t matter that they had watched plagues take countless lives or even bared witness to some of Jack the Ripper’s victims—it was a different monster entirely to genuinely watch a person become prey to another human. “I hope she makes it through, if only to rip out the guys throat that stabbed her.”

Three months had passed since you had first woken up. Strength is returning to you little by little, though not enough for you to hold consciousness for more than a few minutes a day. Regardless, Yaku is relieved to see you making some form of progress, to see that you’re somewhat handling the conversion well. The head of the clan was almost always present when you did awake, though there were instances in which his partner, Nishinoya, had been the one to greet you.

Nishinoya was much more boisterous than his other half—much more talkative and, considering you haven’t found the strength to speak quite yet, that was entirely okay with you. You learned that Yaku and Nishinoya had been together a very long time and Yaku had saved his life ages ago, as the latter phrased it. In admiration, Noya mentions his partner’s abundance of patience—a skill that he himself lacked—and determination to see justice being served had swayed the younger of the two to continuously stand alongside him. Through these little vignettes of their life, however, Noya makes it a point to acknowledge the fact that he was once almost too overbearing for his senior, often intimidating him with just how open and blunt he was. “Nishi, are you boring her with details of our mundane life?” Yaku asks bemusedly as he enters the room you’d been resting in.

“Hey, we aren’t boring. I’m not boring you, am I?” Noya looks to your face, your expression not giving much away save for the light in your barely live eyes. It was far from mundane—if anything, hearing the stories made you so curious considering from just barely glancing with the two, they seemed to be a strange couple.

“We are,” Yaku confirms, though as to what, you aren’t sure. You were certain you hadn’t said anything aloud, considering you practically can’t. “Let’s just say I can hear your thoughts. It’s how we’ve been communicating with you.” The head of clan saunters over casually, sitting at the edge of the mattress opposite to his partner. Both of their rich, golden irises are gazing at you, gauging a reaction from you as he shares this bit of information. Weird, was the only way for you to describe it. Though Yaku didn’t need to read your mind to know that; the slightly panicked look on your face gave away your thoughts.

“Don’t think we don’t know about those vivid wet dreams you have of us—“

“Yū, you weren’t supposed to tell her that!”

“What? We’re all adults here—“

“Nishi, get out,” Yaku covers his face in utter horror, even more so as his partner exits the room laughing as he does so. Shameless Noya. The door closes, leaving you and Yaku alone—were he able to go red out of embarrassment, he probably would have. “I-I am so sorry about him.” Testing out the information that the man beside you supplied moments ago, you reassure him that it’s fine—that you have no control over your dreams and that he probably doesn’t have a way to turn off this strange ability. For a moment, he’s relieved because you seem to be accepting everything with grace thus far; maybe telling you the truth wasn’t going to be the worst case scenario.

But the thought of the truth makes Yaku hesitate—there was no way you were ready to handle the entirety of the truth. At the moment, you could barely handle your weekly check-ups with Akaashi—the household doctor. After a formal introduction, you learned that Akaashi was the one who patched up your wounds when you were first brought to the little mansion. From what you gathered, he was quiet and direct, kind even, but you hated the weekly visits. Not only was Yaku carrying you rather painful, as you’re still recovering from your injuries, but Akaashi had to do regular blood transfusions because, according to the young doctor that you swore could not have already completed medical school and residency, you had lost a lot of blood during the incident.

An incident in which you still can’t recall.

“It’ll come to you,” Yaku says morosely, probably responding in accordance to your thought. The man beside you gets up from the bed, holding his arms open to you, silently asking for permission to pick you up. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” His arms are cold as he lifts you up, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your back as he moves you. A sharp intake of breath leaves your lungs as Yaku supports you physically, adding gentle words of encouragement because he can almost feel how much pain you’re in. Every step down the steep staircase adds another metaphorical bruise to your tender skin, a small groan leaving your throat each time. And while you’re not uncomfortable with the idea of being in Yaku’s arms, you’re grateful when you’re laid down in Akaashi’s office along the leather exam seat.

“How are you feeling today, [name]?” The young doctor asks as he preps you for your blood transfusion. Much to your surprise, you feel hungry—ravenous, even—like you hadn’t eaten a meal in months. Maybe you hadn’t; it wouldn’t be that ridiculous to consider since your memory was a little shoddy.

“You’ll feel better after the transfusion,” Yaku reassures from the chair he’s sitting in beside the exam bed, “we’ll get some food in your system before we start your physical therapy.” There’s an interesting intonation in the way he speaks this, you notice. Like there’s an underlying joke or hidden agenda that you don’t quite understand, but at the same time, the strange phrasing doesn’t trigger your fight-or-flight system in any capacity. If anything, it just seems that Yaku wants to help you regain strength as best you can.

Though, that was currently proving to be a challenge as well. While you weren’t entirely sure how long ago your injuries occurred, you knew a decent amount of time had to have passed. One of your first check-up appointments with Akaashi led to the explanation of the muscle atrophy in your legs from lack of use. Once you slowly became acclimated to being awake for more than just a few minutes a day, Daichi was introduced to you as your physical therapist. He was another enigma—entirely too young to be as experienced as he was in his field, but you decided against questioning it—temporarily mute or not.

Being mute was another issue that was taking much longer than you liked. You hated only being able to communicate through Yaku’s inexplicable talent of being able to read your mind. There were many occasions in which you wanted to ask Akaashi about your condition and how bad of a state you had been brought to him in; how you wanted to ask Sugawara how he’d learned to play such a vast variety of melodies so expertly; how you wanted to tell Nishinoya that every time he tried to feed you a soup or something, it tasted foul and metallic no matter how fresh it was.

You’d have to wait until you found your voice again.

After your check-in with Akaashi, Yaku brings you to Daichi’s office just down the hallway. “Hey, there’s our little fighter.” Daichi was probably the kindest out of everyone in the household. He had a warmth to him that seemed to contrast his icy fingers when he’d hold and guide you for your therapy sessions—a little uncanny that everyone in this mansion had freezing finger tips. Maybe everyone had poor blood circulation?

From the opposite end of the room, Yaku stifles a laugh by biting his cheek. Glad to know that your deconstructed concept of time hadn’t waned on your sense of humor. Meanwhile, Daichi lays you gingerly on a mat on the ground with you back flat as he wraps a resistance band around one of his ankles, as well as your own. “Alright, [name], I’m gonna help you get your leg up and I want to see you pull your leg up as high as you can go, understood?” Five didn’t seem like a very large number, but for now it was the goal. If you could at least lift your legs five times, it was progress considering the severe muscle atrophy in your legs.

Some days, it was difficult for Yaku to sit with you through therapy. He can see the way you wince in pain because you’re trying to relearn and rebuild your muscle groups; other times he just wanted someone, anyone, to blurt out the truth about the situation and hope that it inspires you to push yourself to heal. Some days, it was difficult because Yaku found himself just wanting to hold you in his bed that you’d taken over while the two of you plot out the revenge you didn’t even know you needed. But it wasn’t always bad. There were days, like today, where the progress on your therapy was going much better than anyone in the clan anticipated. There were days where Yaku would ask what you remembered about...anything, and you would have some form of answer for him.

On those days, Yaku began to realize that your memories were coming in chronological order. From the first time you sat up or crawled, to your first word even. In fact, Yaku’s favorite moment that he’s witnessed thus far was watching your father teach you to take your very first steps—it seemed to recur during your therapy sessions, as if subconsciously encouraging you to try to walk again. Maybe that’s why today, you were able to provide Daichi with double the repetitions that he asked for—a sure sign that strength and muscle were returning to your legs. But even with what progress you’ve made so far, Yaku makes it a point to carry you back to your room and lay you back in bed to rest. As always, Yaku tucked you in as he spoke, “get some sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake,”

For weeks on end, dreams stop becoming dreams. Per usual, Yaku awaits in the corner opposite of the bed where you rest, allowing your memories-turned-dreams to flood his mind. Each night, they’re progressively becoming more and more clear—you’re able to recall outfits that you’d worn twenty years ago with perfect detail, scars and scrapes that your friends had, even when that one sock was in the corner of your closet from when you were seven. But the clearer these chronological dreams became, the less frequently you were waking up and it was beginning to worry the head of the clan. While you were still obtaining your weekly blood transfusions to help sustain your life, it seemed to be that they were no longer providing you with enough energy to move past your current stage of recovery. “Yaku, she needs to start feeding,” Akaashi had instructed him during a consultation.

“I still haven’t told her—“

“Come on, man, it’s been almost eight months,” the house doctor groans. There was no reason to coddle you anymore as your life-threatening wounds had already healed for the most part. Sure, there was still discomfort from your broken ribs but even those had almost entirely healed over; your physical therapy sessions and rehabilitation with Daichi were going rather well but, at this point, if you didn’t start getting more substance in your body, this would be the end of the line for you. Akaashi had advised him this for weeks now, but Yaku still hesitated. “We’ve got to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I just—“ the sandy brunette ruffles his claws through his mussed locks in frustration, “I think her power is developing. And I’m afraid if we drop the bomb on her now, it’s going to halt or hinder that progress.”

“Either tell her or feed her,” Akaashi bites, “if you don’t, she’s not going to have any power because she’s going to starve to death.” With that, Akaashi walks away because he has nothing left to argue at this point. While he may be the youngest of the brood, this made Akaashi the most volatile of the group. More often than not, he was relatively kind and patient, timid even, as he was in his human life, but also very stern and strict—all of it coming from a place of love. And Yaku, knowing the tremendous amounts of emotional pain that the former had received, the leader of the clan dare not disrespect him.

Rather than making it an argument, Yaku roams around the lodge to grab a couple bags of O negative out of storage before heading back to his room. Much to his surprise, Nishinoya is sitting at the edge of the bed already, a slight look of panic washing over his features. “Yaku, I think something is wrong.” Without another word, the creature in question hands the bags of blood to his mate before resting his forehead against yours—a sure fire way to make sure that the mental images he picked up from you were pristine and uninterrupted as you dreamed—ignoring the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

You were at the Pike house. It was the first week of the new college semester and your roommates had convinced you to tag along to a frat party they were invited to. The night was going along exactly like a corny romantic comedy—you had locked eyes with a man from across the dance floor. He was sweet—much kinder than others you had met that night. He grabbed you drink after drink, but your memory begins to go fuzzy after that despite being able to recall memories of your own birth or the stupid girl that picked on you when you were twelve and even the small pimple on her temple that you figured was probably making her insecure. So if you were able to recall these memories, dreams, whatever they were, with such perfect clarity, why could you not remember leaving that party? Did that mean he had been drugging your drinks? It was entirely possible, considering Pike wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality. You vaguely remember the man holding your hand firmly as the two of you weave and bob around people and being met with the sweltering humidity of a muggy August night and your roommates, Yukie and Kaori, were nowhere to be found.

You were dragged into a dimly lit alleyway, stumbling with every step that the man had nearly carried you by your wrist alone, reeking of trash that had been long overdue for pick up and maybe even rotting carcasses. It was difficult to tell considering the drugs you assume that had been placed in your system and it was even more difficult to recall the memories. Bits and pieces of your memory were coming back in patches—though the face of the man that had brought you there was not one of them. Nor were any of his friends that had joined in, appearing at the opening of the alleyway. You remember the sound of tearing fabric, salacious laughter of the group of men surrounding your body. You remember feeling searing pain as one held a knife to your throat, warning you that he would slit your throat if you tried to scream.

The threat was replaced in the form of one of the frat boys ramming a half-hard cock down your throat, knife still in place along the jugular vein, while every orifice and inch of your skin had been violated. Vaguely, you remember trying to bite down on the cock in your mouth and run away. The one that threatened to kill you had missed your throat when you ran and threw the knife into your back instead. Foul screeches of demeaning slander left their mouths as they kicked your ribs in at full force, as if the knife deep in your back wasn’t bad enough.

You remember them leaving your bare, naked body in the alley for death to take you.

You remember their faces.

Awakening with a start, you sit up abruptly, only to fall back into the pillow with a resonant clacking noise followed by a dull throb to your forehead. Yaku recoils, mostly out of shock rather than pain—maybe laying his head on yours wasn’t his finest moment. “You remember,” he balks after he’s recovered from the impact. You’re trying to scream, no sound leaving your lungs while tears barreled out from your eyes. Remember? Why was that a memory? Why did it have to be a memory?

Nishinoya acts hastily, tearing open one of the O negative packs and draining half the contents into his mouth and holding it there as he shoves Yaku out of the way. The smaller of the two slats his lips over your silently screaming mouth, puncturing a small wound to the inside of your lip with his teeth and letting the blood trickle in the hole. It feels like pudding trying to push through a sieve, the flavor of copper and iron tampered out by an earthy, meat flavor—maybe venison? The desire to scream fades away as well, rather being over taken to have whatever nourishment Noya is giving you to enter you more and more. Out of necessity, you mold your lips over his, sucking hard on his lip while wrapping your arms around him because it just didn’t seem that he could get close enough in this moment. Despite the fingers you have threaded in Nishinoya’s gelled locks, he pulls away with a shit-eating grin, his tongue swiping away at the trail of red liquid dripping from the seam of his lips. “Careful, might make a guy a fall in love with that kinda kiss.”

“M-more,” you croak out, deflecting the younger one’s flirty comment all together. Yaku and Noya’s eyes go wide upon hearing your voice for the first time. The former acts on instinct, downing the remaining contents of the bag in his partner’s hand before reenacting the same gesture as the latter. Yaku’s lips are much softer than his partners—or maybe it’s the quelling of whatever hunger that hadn’t been satiated that eased the desire. With Yaku, his tongue laves against the wound that Noya had made, coaxing the fluid to enter at a much more steadfast, intimate pace. Even well after he was done feeding you, Yaku sucked on your tongue, encouraging you to reciprocate, so as to get every drop. “W-What was t-that?” You pant out brokenly as soon as the two of you break apart. The question startles the two sitting at the edge of the bed—now that you had your voice somewhat back, Yaku no longer needed to communicate for you. That also meant he couldn’t control the flow of responses to not overwhelm you.

“I think it’s time you finally got your answers,” Noya mumbles, treading carefully as he looks at his partner. It was a silent reassurance that, no matter how this scenario proceeded, he would be here to support Yaku. To make you more comfortable, he adjusts the pillows behind you so that your back can rest properly along the headboard.

“M-my d-d-dreams?” Having just rediscovered your voice, it still came out in sharp, staccato-like whimpers, but the boys weren’t going to discourage you from speaking. Much like everything else Yaku had done in his life, he had done with patience and your recovery and rehabilitation were no different. But your throat was still raw and it still hurt to speak—thankfully with your mind rushing like a bullet train, Yaku was able to grasp the entirety of your question.

“I think they’re more memories than dreams.��� His words come out like a condemning nail in a coffin—like a doctor telling you you only have a few months left to live—because that means everything you recalled from Pike house, the drinks, the party, the alley, all of it was real. “Noya and I found you that night barely clinging to life. Naked, soaked in blood and semen. You died that night, [name].” As he speaks, his cold finger tips traced along your breast until you feel the throbbing mound of flesh—a scar of where the knife had been thrown into you from the back and exited out the front. “The knife had gone through your aorta. Akaashi spent a long time trying to repair it but was unable to.”

Your body begins to tremble as silent sobs wrack through your body. You died? “S-so how ‘mi h-here?” Yaku looks over at Noya in discernible worry—not because the head was afraid of telling the truth, no. He was afraid how you would react to the truth. His partner looks at him poignantly, mentally reminding him that this was eerily similar to how Noya had reacted when he had learned the truth as well. Yaku’s head bobs in agreement, swallowing his hesitance before speaking again.

“I made you like me. Like the rest of us.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion even, because there’s no way that he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But rather than offering a verbal response, Yaku holds his hand out towards Noya, in which he places the other bag of O Negative in his palm. While the original plan was to just feed you once again, the second Yaku tears open the bag, the hunger you thought had eased returned at full force. You rip the bag out of his cold hands, elongated claws scratched at you as you do so, before you down the contents like a shotgunned beer before you could realize what you were doing.

“T-This is a joke, right?” You balk, voice clear as day due to the strength returning to your body once again from freshly consumed sustenance. But the tensions have gone down significantly, to the point where Noya feels relief and excuses himself to feed, leaving you in Yaku’s solitary care. Once the two of you are left alone, Yaku can only shake his head as he continues to press on with the truth. This had to be a cruel, sick joke. But it wasn’t funny and you certainly weren’t laughing. Yet Yaku had no reason to lie to you and the snack you had just consumed moments ago was meant to serve as a final nail in the metaphorical coffin to make you understand that he was telling the truth.

“We have been alive for centuries—storytellers dubbing our kind as vampires—but originally, we were simply called the Damned.” Yaku proceeds to go through the history, much like he had with all the others before you, because he feels the need to share the truth, needs to tell you that your death isn’t the end of your life but rather the beginning like it had for all those in clan. The most recent addition to the family was Akaashi. He was less than a century old, compared to the others. Akaashi had been tied to a tree and shot repeatedly, only to watch his lover drown to death, who had been tossed into the ocean before shortly before with a thirty pound weight attached to his ankle with his last few breaths. Yaku and Sugawara were the ones to set his nearly lifeless body free with the head of the clan performing Akashi’s conversion. This lead to the newborn to coming back to slaughter the community that decided to his partner needed to die for being a man in love.

Each of their stories was nearly identical. Sugawara, who apparently has been every major known classical musician in history hiding under the guise of his shapeshifter ability, and Daichi were hanged together for being a homosexual couple after their village had carved unsavory words on their bodies to remind their reincarnations of their sins. Yaku and Noya had saved each of them respectively, and allowed the two of them to go on a rampage to annihilate their executioners.

Lastly, or rather firstly, was Nishinoya himself. As Yaku goes into detail about transforming his partner, he tears up ever so slightly. And as you listen actively with no interruptions, no questions even, as he tells you about how Nishi was wrongly imprisoned for theft and how the other prisoners constantly violated and sodomized his body because he was smaller than the rest; how he ended his own life by ingesting whatever toxic chemicals he could find and how Yaku broke him out of prison to start a new life together. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” the aforementioned prisoner re-enters the room, a fragile smile on his thin lips as he takes a seat beside his partner. “So you finally told her?”

“B-but why m-me? Why not just let me die?”

“Do you not want revenge against the assholes that killed you a year ago, [ name ]?” Noya bit before Yaku could jump in. “They’re still alive after what they did to you—how is that fair?!”

A year?

You had died a year ago. How did your family take the news? Your roommates and best friends? Nishi was right—it wasn’t fair at all. Yaku raises a hand towards his partner in attempts to get him to calm down before he got too riled up about the situation and before he could get out the most important question. “I have to know, [ name ], if you want to continue on with this lifestyle or not before we proceed with the real rehabilitation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tilt your head to your newfound savior. He said it so nonchalantly, as if learning how to walk or learning that your diet was blood wasn’t rehabilitation.

“Well, we have to teach you how to feed properly so your strength gets back up—unless you just want us to feed you for the rest of your eternal life.” Noya jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in what you’ve come to understand is his typical, joking demeanor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Noya, can you maybe save the flirting for later?” Yaku grits out—once again slightly mortified. It brings laughter to the man in question; it was like rewatching his own life all over again, seeing him get flustered at the smallest amounts of forward affection. It was endearing, if anything.

“Sure. Let’s get [ name ] healthy first then.”

After coming to terms with your transformation and feeding more regularly, still off of a supply stock that the mansion carried, you were able to attend therapy sessions with Daichi more frequently. And while you hadn’t entirely regained muscle or use of your legs, you were able to at least stay awake more often than not. Rather than being cooped up in the bedroom, you found yourself lounging near the entryway where Sugawara would entertain you with the countless pieces he had written over the years. It was soothing and peaceful and Sugawara’s jovial personality kept you from spiraling into a deeper hole knowing that you died. It was still an insane concept, but the five men in your new home had worked hard to keep you sane. “Ready for your session?” Yaku asks gently as he takes a seat beside you on the luxurious sofa. He’s not as uptight as he was now that you knew the truth, though he still did get flustered when you would openly show affection. Even if it was something as simple as leaning your head on his shoulder like you were now.

“I think so,” doing what you could, you scooted and clambered onto Yaku’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly while your weakened lower limbs splayed across his lap. He tucks one arm under your knees while the other supports your back, effectively scooping you up and brings you to the kitchen where the blood stock is kept. You quirk a brow at the creature carrying you, knowing you’ve already had at least three bags since you woke up.

“Gotta get your strength up so you can recover faster,” is all he responds with before he sets you down on a bar stool. Yaku tears open the bag of O Negative and, much to your shock, he drinks half the contents without swallowing before his lips are on yours. One of his fangs finds purchase on the inside of your lip, sinking down and creating an opening for the blood to flow in for quicker delivery. Usually, Yaku would only have to feed you like this when you were in a weaker state, so it felt a bit out of place for him to be doing it right now, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. While the blood trickles into the wound, Yaku’s tongue swirls with yours intimately, coating the cavern with the liquid and he doesn’t stop until every ounce is clear from both of your mouths.

“Not complaining,” you say slowly, “but is there a particular reason you wanted to feed me instead of just letting my chug the bag?” As you ask your question, Yaku is draining the rest of the contents of the bag into his mouth before pulling you towards him in another kiss. The question is repeating over and over in your head, he can hear it loud and clear, but the other thoughts are spurring him on further. The thoughts of how Yaku’s touch makes you crave more, makes you want to feel his lips along your skin and his large hands gripping your thighs tightly. Sometimes he’s unsure whether or not you conveniently forget that he can read your mind, sometimes he wonders if you let your salacious thoughts run wild on purpose. His chest is heaving, deep intakes of breath are plunging through his nostrils despite the blood being long gone. He doesn’t want to stop but centuries of control are begging him to.

“We’re going somewhere today, after your PT,” Yaku pants out after he pulls away, tilting his head down because he can’t look at you right now—he’s afraid to. He needs to try to dampen whatever feral thoughts are running through your brain so that his own self-control doesn’t just get tossed out the window. “Noya and I are taking you out for your first hunt.”

“Uh, am I ready for that?” Shit, you can’t even walk in your own yet. Yaku laughs, grateful for the reprieve from your sexually charged thoughts when you point out the setback.

“That’s why the extra feeding tonight. I needed to make sure it was in your bloodstream so that you had enough strength for PT and the hunt,” Yaku adjusts you from barstool, scooping you into his arms once again to bring you to the mansion’s back garden. Daichi is standing a short distance away adorning a tight muscle tee and joggers, while Noya and Akaashi are sitting at the small table with cigars in hand. Yaku steadies you in front of Daichi, the latter holding onto your hands to make sure you don’t fall, before the former joins the rest the clan at the table. Sugawara emerges from inside the mansion as well, passing off a cigar to Yaku while lighting his own. It was uncomfortable in some capacity to have everybody watching—you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being critiqued on your performance.

“I’m going to be one step ahead of you, and I won’t let go, okay?” Daichi holds his arms out to give you space to take your first step. You take in a sharp breath, the scent of scent of cigars and pine trees overwhelming your nasal cavity. When did you sense of smell become that strong? With trembling limbs, you cling onto Daichi’s muscular forearms, praying to god you didn’t fall as you took a step forward.

“Hey, look!” Noya cheers from a distance, nudging Yaku in the stomach. “She took a step!” The excitement in his voice was evident because, after months of constant aid, Noya has come to have a soft spot for you almost as much as Yaku does. The two of them are watching, utterly enthralled with the way you’re only moving mere millimeters—but millimeters is better than nothing considering the muscle decay and atrophy that had taken place over the last year.

After the first few steps and curling your toes in blades of grass, your feet begin to relax as you tremble forward. Gripping Daichi with all the strength in your hands, you pick your right foot off the ground and place it forward. “That’s good, [ name ]! Gimme one more,” Daichi, a therapist in more ways than one, encourages you to continue moving, wanting to make sure both legs were receiving equal treatment. You repeat the motion with your left leg, taking two full steps. While not perfect, you kept moving forward with his guidance until his calves hit the stone wall of the garden fountain. Considering where you started, twenty five feet was a tremendous distance to cover. “You did amazing, [ name ].” The vampire holding onto you smiles big, pride swelling in chest like a father praising his daughter for taking first in a beauty pageant.

Yaku and Noya are by your side immediately in celebration, the latter much more overt with it as he’s hugging you and holding you up. “What do you think, Daichi? Is she strong enough to at least witness a hunt?” The former asks. Mentioning the “H” word again perks your ears up because a part of you almost wishes to not have to engage with whatever a hunt entails, but part of you also knows that this is your life now. Everything you thought you knew was no longer valid—this was your rebirth, your awakening.

“I think she’ll be okay if one of you carries her for it—“

“Ooh, I’ll do it!” Noya cheers almost too loudly in your ear as he’s still holding you. Without so much as a chance to offer a rebuttal, you’re swept up into his arms as he stands at full height before glancing at his mate. “Ready to go?” Yaku gives a nod, gripping tightly at the satchel over his shoulder before the three of you are off at breakneck speeds. They’re silent as they travel—perhaps because were they to open their mouths at this speed and velocity, they would be catching a whole lot of bugs in their mouths. To your surprise, the three of you end up outside ten-foot-tall brick walls and a chain link fence.

“This is a...”

“A prison,” Yaku answers simply, as if he were answering with what his favorite color was rather than his favorite meal, “considering our diet, we choose to collect our sustenance from those who do not deserve redemption.” There’s a malignant, dark twist in the headman’s words.

“Personally, I prefer going after the rapists and child molestors. Those bastards deserve to be drained of every ounce of blood.” Noya snarls—you could tell it was personal for him. But how could he tell? Surely it wasn’t just written on placards outside of prison cells.

“Easy. Walk in, ask them what they’re serving time for, and their minds fill in the blanks.” The foreboding you sensed from Yaku deepened even further; deepened to the point where it felt like a magnet drawing your eyes towards your savior. But he looked anything but. Yaku stood merely a few inches taller, his claws sharpening and turning black while red overtook the once golden hues of his irises. You look up at Noya curiously, wondering if he’ll undergo the same sort of transformation, but before you could even question it, the gold in his own eyes had already molded into crimson rings.

The three of you enter the building with ease, aiming for the top floor because, according to Nishi, that was where they kept the worst criminals. It played out exactly as Yaku said it would—ask them what they were imprisoned for and, if they were in captivity under the basis of rape, first or second degree murder, sexual assault, or anything involving a minor, he would sink his fangs into their jugular vein and drain them dry. Though he announces his satisfaction, he remains in this strange form that he has presented you with as Nishinoya passes you off into his arms.

The smaller of the two repeats the same process, taking down two prisoners of his own before taking the satchel off of his partner’s shoulder. Noya continues questioning prisoners, letting Yaku’s power of mind reading acting as the judgment call, before pulling out a small, sharp knife from the satchel and slitting each victim’s throat while holding them downcast like a gavel banging down the rule. As blood fountains from their necks, Nishinoya holds fresh IV bags over the openings to collect whatever comes out like rain. Was this how they ended up getting blood for you to feed over the past year. “Yes,” Yaku answers evenly, looking down at you with his crimson eyes, “but we were hoping to actually teach you how to feed tonight. Are you up for it?” Every nerve in your body seemed to scream no, like you shouldn’t be witnessing these events let alone doing it.

But your guts are telling you yes, yes this is now your way of survival. These men were horrid, their victims needed justice. You needed justice. Giving Yaku a small nod, he gives you instructions while the three of you search for your very first meal. Considering neither your fangs nor claws had grown in, as you were very much still a baby by all intents and purposes, Noya would have to incapacitate your prey for you while you bit the inside of your lip, reopening the same puncture wounds from earlier, to allow easier access for the nutrients to enter your body. Once they were out, Noya would puncture the jugular vein for you, while Yaku dipped you down far enough to feed.

Your lips latched on to the raw skin, hooking your own canines for leverage as you draw the blood from your dinner and the moment the warmth seeped into the opening, all doubts about what you were doing had flown out the window. You adjusted the way you’re sitting on your victim, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you continuously sucked every drop of life from him. “Did she just—“ Noya questions, not missing the fact that you had just moved your atrophied legs. And while Yaku is very aware of his mate’s balking, he can only focus on the way your lips mold against your meal’s neck or the muted slurping noises bubbling from your lungs like a woman starved. In a sense, that was quite literal. Noya looks over at his partner—silence wasn’t typical of Yaku when asked a question—but words are lost on him when he sees the way Yaku’s eyes are hungrily staring at your form and he’s unsure if its due to hunger or hunger. The moan that leaves your tongue when you finally pull away from the now empty body confirms the shorter one’s suspicions. “Not that seeing you turned on doesn’t turn me on, but you might wanna put that away, Morisuke.” Noya teases before walking towards you, the call of his given name causing Yaku to snap out of his stupor. Well fuck, he snarls bitterly in his head. He was gonna have to feed again, considering all the blood he had just consumed went straight to his cock.

You feel alive—more alive than you felt in ages. And despite your attempt being incredibly shaky, you managed to stand on your own two feet, using the wall to brace yourself. Noya rushes over to your side to try to hold you steady, asking if you’re alright. “I’m more than alright, Nishi, holy shit.” He has an arm under you, carefully bringing you back towards Yaku, though for the most part, you’re walking entirely on your own.

“So what, have you guys just been giving me snacks this whole time?” You sneer teasingly, though Yaku looks away because your accusation because it isn’t entirely wrong. The blood packs were indeed “snacks” but were usually only used to stave off hunts, that way they didn’t just decimate the prison on an every other day basis, but were also used as post coitus replenishments.

“One more?” Yaku coughs out, as if choking on his own spit. “We can do this one together, if you like.” He’s trying to be polite, despite the feral look in his eyes while also trying to calm down the lust and adrenaline running rampant in his system.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” As opposed to carrying you this time, Yaku flanks to your empty side, helping you walk between him and Noya until you came upon your next victim. This one was larger than the last few—stocky and skin marred with stories of a brutal past. No matter which way you looked at him, he looked bitter, and after asking him what he was in for, you figure he was a perfect candidate. After all, intentionally murdering his wife and three children was heinous by definition. Yaku approaches the much taller man, crouching ever so slightly in the event your meal tried to escape; not that he could even if he wanted to. The leader of the Damned was behind him in seconds, snapping his neck to disarm the threat that was his build.

To everyone’s surprise, you made your way over slowly to the now lifeless, six-foot-three prisoner while Yaku punctured holes on both sides of the victim’s neck, allowing the both of you to feed. It was oddly intimate, being so close to someone while sucking the literal life out of somebody. The lapping, sucking noises brought back salacious thoughts to the man beside you, and he’s doing all that he can just to avoid trading sustenance for an erection again. Meanwhile, Noya is watching both of you in amusement. Does his partner realize that he’s gingerly scraping his claws along your spine? Is it out of encouragement, or interest? Yu can’t quite tell, but he finds it entertaining nonetheless. Even more so when Yaku squirms at the throaty moan leaving your lungs when you pull away, lips plump with a bead of leftovers dripping from the seam of you mouth.

Either way, Nishinoya knows it won’t be long now until Yaku cracks. Despite the great amount of self-control he tends to exercise, Yaku is but a simple creature that cannot stave off his desires and Noya is no different. They were going to give way to their desires sooner rather than later, but they made a vow eons ago that revenge must always come first.

One year, three months, one week, and four days. That was how long it had been since you died in the alleyway. Today was the day those boys were going to die for what they did.

By now, you were fully functioning; walking on your own, feeding on your own. The only difference between you and the others was that you still slept, though not very much anymore, and according to Akaashi, it would be a trait that you would grow out of maybe two decades after your first century. That was actually the sole reason there was even a bed in the house—Nishinoya still slept merely because he enjoyed it. He wasn’t like the others who had found a passion project that kept him up around the clock, so more often than not, he would join you in bed. After all, it was originally his bed.

And more often than not, Yaku would sit in the spacious window sill while Noya wrapped his arms around you protectively in your shared slumber, as if to abide by the repeated mantra he had said over the last year—he’ll be there when you wake.

Your dreams are no longer memories, as you’ve got caught up to current events thanks to the playback speed that they paced themselves at. Now, you’re able to recall on every single event of your life that you’ve witnessed thus far with perfect detail—including the faces of your five murderers. Each of them belonged to your university Pike fraternity; two of them were a year older than you, two the same age, and the one who had the knife to your neck was a freshman not yet old enough to drink legally, but apparently old enough to to pull the metaphorical trigger and throw the knife that had gone through your entire body, severing your aorta in your heart.

After researching in the form of disguise, you learned that tonight Pi Kappa Epsilon would be holding their annual holiday gala; fancy words for a giant frat party for those who chose not to return to their hometowns for Christmas. Knowing how these events tend to function—it was relatively easy to sneak in, even with Nishinoya and Yaku flanking your sides. You flashed the doorman a crisp fifty, knowing males always had to pay a fee for entry while women always got in for free. The bouncer grins upon seeing you in a tight, red body-con dress, but the grin is immediately displaced when his eyes land on the two men beside you. Giving your best, most flirtatious smile, you grab both of their wrists before heading inside. “Don’t lose me, okay?” You yell over the pounding music.

“We won’t,” they say in unison. Noya gives you a reassuring smile, hand pressed against Yaku’s back gently, while the latter purses his lips together in discomfort. “Just keep talking to me through here,” he adds, pressing his cold lips to your forehead chastely, “and I’ll find you.” You give him a confident nod before you throw yourself into the throng of people to find your targets. It proved a bit of a challenge, considering the strobe lighting and the myriad of people—all of the men looked the same on top of that. But once your eyes narrowed in on the man you first lured you, it was game over.

Like a tiger ready to pounce, you sauntered over to him, pushing aside whomever he was with at the moment before wrapping your arms lewdly around his neck. He looks down at you skeptically, but otherwise pleased with the bold actions. From a short distance away, Yaku and Noya are hiding like wallflowers, listening to the resounding chant happening in your head that screamed to kill him. “You know,” Noya chimes in lowly, distracting Yaku from the way your hips are grinding and gyrating against the strange man’s, “we could just kill the entire fraternity.” Yaku shakes his head—Noya was always fond of the idea of revenge against all who were guilty by association. While the others in the clan gave into his persuasion, Yaku never found it amusing.

“What if they had no idea that their brother killed someone?”

“They probably bragged about it,” Noya grumbles. From his own experience, the shorter of the two liked to think that he knew how these people tended to operate.

“It’s go time.” Yaku says abruptly, eyes locked onto your retreating form as you pull one of your rapists by the tie and lead him out the frat house. The two Damned maneuver their way towards the quietest space, hunting for a window they can exit out of to follow you without garnering too much attention towards the situation. When they end up on the sidewalk outside of the Pike house, they see you parading—brokenly, complete with fake stumbles to allude to you being drugged again—the man by the tie until he shoves you into the same alleyway.

Close behind were four others, all built and stocky as they traveled in their pack and making their way towards the alley. You were cornered amongst trash and dead rats, the five of them trying to zero in on you, yet you showed no fear. Instead, you stood at full height with the addition of your stilettos, as your body transitioned into it’s more predatory form. “Remember me?” You ask sweetly, cracking your knuckles nonchalantly. Your hair that’s covering the ugly mound of flesh scarred over from your injury is swept over the opposite shoulder, giving them full view as your short, blackened claws graze over the skin. “Over a year ago, the five of you brought a woman to this alley, raped her and you,” a feral snarl leaves your lips as you point to the youngest fraternity brother, “threw a knife into her back that went all the way through her heart and killed her.”

The five of them begin looking over at each other, wondering who ratted out who considering they had never spoken of the night since it occurred. It was easy to avoid, considering the body was never found. There was never any evidence. “W-who are you?” The youngest one squawks out.

“Don’t remember?” Your head snaps in the direction to one of the older members. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.” There’s no more room for talking, no room for rebuttal. Instead, you grab the same man you lured into the alley by the tie, bringing him close enough to snap his neck. When he was neither moving nor breathing, the remaining four began to back up.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy, let’s get out of here—“

“You think you’re just gonna get away?” Noya laughs dryly as it crescendoed into full volume, shaking the walls and mimicking an earthquake that did not expand beyond the walls of the alley. The remaining four fall to the ground, not prepared for such loud noises let alone a trembling earth to accompany the sound. Yaku shakes his head in utter disgust before the crimson ring in his eyes locks with the prey.

“Done eating, love?” He calls out, causing the four other frat boys to look over in horror at the “e” word. Once again, you’re standing at full height, the back of your hand wiping away the blood that had escaped from your mouth from your feeding.

“Not quite yet,” With every step you took, they trembled back, only to be met with your two saviors blocking their only exit. The youngest one is hiding all the way in the back, trepidation causing his bones to rattle within his skin as his back hits Yaku’s calf. “I’m still hungry.” Noya lets out a snort at this—he truly did love your sense of humor.

“You’re next.” Yaku looks down at the young boy, only nineteen-years-old, who had been your executioner. That same boy looks at the leader of the clan in horror, eyes wide because he never in a million years saw this as his end. Effortlessly, Yaku picks him up by the collar of his shirt before tossing him in your direction. Rather than catching him, you gathered your claws together to form a single point, driving the makeshift lance through the stomach of the one who had ended your life. Without verbalizing it, you gave the boys permission to feed on the other two—so long as it wasn’t the one that you had tried to bite down on when he rammed his cock in your mouth.

You had plans for him.

In the mean time, you pull the now lifeless body off of your bloodied hand, drinking down whatever was dripping down your arm before tossing him off to the side; you had one more pressing matter to deal with. The last of the boys—the dessert to your meal was pressed against the wall as he tried to run from this situation, watching in mortification as Yaku and Noya beheaded the other two brothers with their bare hands, feasting on their prey. “Like I said,” you sneered as you approached the last one, ripping off his pants and boxers much like he had when he violated your mouth. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.”

And so you did.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Yaku muses, having finished his meal, gawking at the way you had just left the last one along the wall with his penis bitten off all the way down to the base while you returned to the youngest member again, draining your murderer for all he was worth.

“I dunno, it’s kinda hot, babe.” Noya jokes, watching in amusement as well.

“I’m actually kinda full,” You shrug, having drained the stabber entirely—that put your body count to two full bodies. “D’you guys wanna have the last one? I got all I wanted from him.” At sound of your permission, Yaku approaches the last one with a predatory glare, not daring to break eye contact as he asked you one more question.

“[ name ], do you feel that justice been served?” With a nonplussed grimace, you gave a shrug.

“If anything, these assholes got the short end of the stick. They murder a girl they raped so she comes back from the dead and kills them all with two beautiful men by her side? Yeah, I’m happy with that.”

By the time you returned home, you were an entirely different creature. You felt...free. Like there was nothing else anchoring your dead heart, like you no longer had a tether to this world. Like you had no purpose.

So now what?

Silently you meander back to your shared bedroom to further contemplate your existence, the boys you left behind glancing at each other in concern. “Want me to talk to her? I might be able to better sympathize.” Noya asks quietly so that your now heightened hearing can’t quite pick up on the conversation. Regardless, Yaku shakes his head. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling and not just because of his ability to read minds.

“I’ve got a few things I want to say to her anyway.” Noya presses a tender kiss to his mates cheek before he flits away to hang out with Daichi as he normally does when he’s not with Yaku, while the head of the clan makes his way to the room. You’re lying in bed already, the dress and stilettos shed and traded for bare feet and a slip. Despite your back turned towards him, you feel the bed dip as he lays beside you, something atypical of Yaku. “How do you feel?” His voice is merely a whisper as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer?” You retort, but Yaku doesn’t recoil because he knows. He knows the sort of limbo you feel you’re placed in now that your postmortem mission had been carried out. What were you supposed to do for the rest of eternity besides act as an impromptu executioner, feeding off of the worst criminals within a hundred mile radius?

“Is that all you see us as?”

“No,” You say quietly. These Damned men had accomplished great things, from what you knew of them, in their lifetimes. Sugawara has continued composing even well after his other alias’ deaths, Akaashi has been working on a research piece for decades regarding cancer in the form of preventative measures rather than a cure, in addition to a cure. Daichi had participated in the Olympics a number of times, Yaku was once a politician in multiple countries and Nishinoya had worked closely with electronic developers over the years including Microsoft and Linux. “You guys have accomplished so much in your lifetimes, I just don’t want to be some sort of disappointment—“

“[ name ], we never knew were going to do those things. We just kept pushing on, finding out things we were passionate about and since we have unlimited time, we’ve had time to hone and perfect those skills.”

“What if I never do anything that great?” Yaku lets out a sigh, turning your now fully restored body around to face him and pressing his face into your neck. Over the duration of your rehabilitation process, he’d become so over protective of you, wanting what’s best for you in any capacity yet never fully being honest with himself.

“You have time to figure it out,” he mumbles into your own icy skin, lips tickling your veins. “Until then, just stay? With me?”

“Yaku...” he had never fully outright asked you to stay—only alluding to it in the past with talks of the future.

“I-I want you,” he whispers almost uncharacteristically. Being a diplomat, stuttering was not a thing that Yaku did very often. “To stay with us forever. To stay with me forever.” This is it, he figures. It’s now or never. Yaku can’t stand the idea of you leaving the clan, leaving him when he hadn’t yet had a taste of you, had you in any other form than a few mere kisses for feeding or in fantasies. Pulling away, Yaku shifts once again so that his arms are holding his weight above you, his lips ghosting intimately over yours.

Both of you are overly aware of the attraction that’s there—you knew of the daydreams you’d had of him throughout the year and with his ability, he was unwillingly subjected to them. Reaching up slightly, your lips press against his hungrily, your tongue immediately dancing along the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Yaku doesn’t waste a second dropping the support from his arms in favor to press his body fully into yours because he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s evident in his fervent kiss, it’s evident in his ever present erection. A mewl warbles in your throat as you feel him grind against you.

Why the hell had you waited so long for this? Why did he wait so long for this?

There was no more waiting.

Breaking a part for a moment, you pull the slip off your torso hastily while Yaku unbuckles his belt and frees his lower half. Impatience floods you as you tear off the thin Henley he’s wearing, leaving the two of you entirely bare in front of each other. The large scar on your bosom that had made you self conscious for months suddenly felt dull in comparison as you’re met with the varying marks that marred Yaku’s skin. From what you could tell, they looked like whiplashes. “I need you now,” he pleads, ignoring your wandering thoughts as he hungrily pulls you in for another kiss. Though rather short lived, your overwhelmed with warmth and pulsing in your core as his fangs run along your neck before sucking lovingly at your collarbone.

“O-oh,” you moan out wantonly, clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself steady. With no preparation, not that you needed any, Yaku slowly sheaths his member inside of you, the girth stretching you deliciously. For a moment, the two of you remain still to bask in the reprieve you both felt, unaware of the third party member watching pleased in the lounge chair across from the bed. “Fuck,” you hiss out between your teeth as he’s pushing in inch after inch.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” for a moment, he’s impressed—taking eleven inches with little to no preparation can be torturous, and he knew that from experience. “Come on, baby take the last of it—oh fuck yeah,” Yaku groans out as soon as he’s balls deep within you. The two of you are still, enjoying the moment of togetherness before he bottoms out entirely in your sweet little hole. His hips move almost languidly so as not to hurt you but good lord for all that is unholy, is he holding back.

Soft whimpers leave your lungs each time his hips snap back into yours—why the hell hadn’t you fucked Yaku sooner?! A throaty chuckle grumbles in his chest at the thought. Even with him slamming his cock in you at half-force, his mind is intertwined with yours to the point where your thoughts feel like his own. “I had to take care of you princess, wanted to make sure you could handle me fucking you.”

“Then fuck me harder, ass-hat.”

“He likes it better when you call him senpai.” Nishinoya calls out from the opposite corner of the room, as if he wasn’t just leisurely watching his partner ream himself into your core. You let out a scream and at this point, you aren’t sure if it’s because Yaku have a particularly hard thrust with the head of his dick meeting with the edge of your womb or if Nishinoya’s presence surprised you. Even more so to see that he was stark naked, stroking his cock that he’s presenting to your mouth.

“Suck off your senpai, princess.” Yaku whispers devilishly in your ear, holding his cock still within you as he does so. Tentatively, you give a kitten lick to the head before you, testing out Nishinoya’s reaction to the motion before deeming him worthy. A soft grunt escapes him, his body more than welcoming of the sensation—but it just wasn’t enough for you.

“I need a better reaction than that, Nishi,” You joke.

A poor plan on your part.

The shorter of the two looks down at you curiously, a wicked twist of his lip displayed for you as he briefly tosses an amused look towards Yaku, to which the latter lets out a chuckle in addition to the shake of his head before he starts to withdraw his cock from within you. “How’s this for reaction?” Noya chirps before deftly wrapping his claws in your hair, slamming his engorged member down your throat while Yaku simultaneously thrusts back inside you. The carnal desires that had run rampant through your mind on occasion had built to this moment, built up the needy desire that the boys finally had the chance to release with you. “Yeah, you take that cock in your throat, baby. Show us how much you’ve wanted us from the start.”

Nishinoya is absolutely relentless as he repeatedly withdraws and replaces his erection in your mouth, pulling so far back as to have his tip tease and smear pre-cum along your lips, all the while chanting praise and how much he loves you; how much he’s dreamed of having you between him and Yaku. The latter can’t help the stuttering motion of his hips as he unabashedly strokes his member along your walls, the tip of dick all but moving into your womb. “Yeah, princess, take your senpais cocks so fucking good, yeah? You want us to fill all your holes with our fucking cum, don’t you?” You can only wail out around Nishinoya in your mouth in response, clenching and squeezing your pussy tightly around Yaku inside you. The clan head lets out a very audible groan at the abrupt friction. “Oh, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, senpai’s gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, yeah yeah yeah.” Yaku is absolutely wrecking and ravaging your lower half while all the foul, salacious words leaving him were only serving to turn on his partner even more until the both of them hold still to empty their first loads inside you.

After a momentary reprieve, the two of them withdraw from you, the smallest whine leaving your lips at the distinct emptiness. Between pants, both of the males look to each other before letting out a laugh. “Princess,” Noya calls out from your left, golden eyes light and airy as they gaze at you, “did you think we were going to let you cum?”

“Y-yes?” Why wouldn’t they? Wasn’t that just normal, sex etiquette between partners?

“Oh no, love,” Yaku adds, “We’re gonna show you just how much we love you, gotta coat every inch of your skin in our fluids before you can even think about cumming.” Before you can blink, the boys are up again with Nishinoya taking his position with the tip of his still hardened member teasing the outer lips of your pussy. Meanwhile, Yaku makes it a point to slap your cheek with his own erection, making sure to keep your attention and focus on him. Simultaneously, they thrust into their respective orifices that they’ve traded—Yaku treating you much more delicately versus Noya who shoves his entire mast inside your depths.

“Oh damn, babe, you’re so fucking tight!” The latter howls, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Despite having identical lengths, Nishinoya was much more rough and rigid, your walls acclimating to every vein out of necessity before relentlessly pounding away at your insides. At his pace, your pussy doesn’t even have a chance to miss the feeling of fullness. Your voice is no longer coming out in moans or screams due to the damning pace—only in a broken staccato of warbles from the speed that Noya’s fucking you. “Yeah, baby? Gonna stay here with us forever and get dicked down every night? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

But with the almost tender, loving way Yaku is holding your throat while repeatedly sliding his cock in from tip to base, there is no actual way you can reply. Instead, you let out grunts and cries of affirmation because you would stupid not to welcome the way these two were screwing you. It’s also more than just that.

These two, as well as the rest of the brood, had taken you in being inches from death, presented you with another opportunity for life that served as an opportunity for you to seek revenge, while caring for you and almost...loving you.

“We do,” Yaku bites, withdrawing his cock from your lips offended at the thought of almost, “love you, that is.” The hand that is cupping your throat moves to brush the backs of his claws along your jaw before pulling your chin and torso up so that Yaku can kiss you fully. There is no lust or wanton desire in this kiss—it’s love through and through that is simultaneously cold yet warm.

“You’ve been dreaming about us for a long time, princess,” Noya grits out, his peak approaching all too quickly with the way you’re clenching around him with no relief. He’s panting heavily, no longer caring about his need to assert his dominance in any capacity; all he can think about is cumming deep inside you while you cum around his thick cock. “We want to make your dreams come true.”

Yaku pulls away from the kiss in time to hear your cries—a delicacy he had never had the pleasure of knowing in a past life—as you cum with Noya. The latter is holding still for a brief moment before withdrawing, his spent body collapsing beside you. You’re sensitive, you realize, as Yaku slides back in to reclaim his space. Your walls are still trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, but Yaku is much more gentle this time around. Pressing his body flush against yours, he wraps both his arms around you with one cradling your head, the other around your lower back to pull you as close as possible. His shallow moving thrusts in accompaniment to his pulsing girth are enough to trigger yet another orgasm in direct succession, and coercing his own orgasm. “Please stay, [ name ].” He mumbles into your hair as he feels his seed spurting within you. Though you supply no answer due to trying to catch your breath, you only nod in response. Yaku remains still inside you, so as if to seal both his and his partner’s emission within you with his own softening cock, smiling at the simple fact that you had nodded in response. “Get some rest, little one,” He adds, adjusting so that he’s on the opposite side of you and a now sleeping Noya. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

[khoicesbyk]

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and certain original characters, created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 1,240 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not see spoilers, please do not read any further.

Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you. 😁😘

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @pixie88 @choiceslady @queenjilian @otherworldlypresents @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @aussieez @secretaryunpaid @txemrn @sfb123 @hopefulmoonobject @lucy-268 @choicesficwriterscreations

Chapter 3.) The Hunter.

The Knights Of Ossory are an ancient secret society of werewolf hunters dating back to 12th century Ireland. And much like his father, brothers and grandfather before him, Trent Moses IV was proud to be one of them. By day he’s an Ecologist studying the surrounding forests and by night, he hunts werewolves.

The Knights Of Ossory’s main mission is the eradication of werewolves. They’re considered monsters of the shadows and the Knights Of Ossory are defenders of humanity.

Even though he’s been blind since birth, he’s never let his disability be a hindrance. He grew up in the suburbs of Philadelphia, and is the youngest of 5 boys. He has always had to fight his brothers for everything. But it never stopped him, it only fueled him to do and be better. He excelled all throughout school, from elementary to high school, he was always top of his class. He graduated Summa Cum Laude from Appalachian State with a degree in Ecology. He soon took a part time job as a Park Ranger and while being an Ecological Surveyor for Sayre Energy and Power in Hunt’s Peak WV.

He used his work as a cover for his true mission. Hunting werewolves in the area. But he wasn’t trying to kill them, he wanted to cure them. He calls it catch and release.

“No one would miss a few werewolves. After all, they aren’t human. They’re monsters. They must be stopped. ” He always thought to himself.

He and his team hunt them like they’re deers or rabbits. They shouldn’t be allowed to be free to roam and destroy. He’d capture them to study them. He did so in hopes that he could find a cure for whatever causes them to turn into werewolves then release them. So he’s focused on the Pack. Slowly picking off members of the Pack to study and catching the ire of Roman.

When Trent found out that Roman was the Alpha, he made it his personal mission to take him as the ultimate test subject. He’s always known that Alphas are the most dangerous of each werewolf Pack.

Whenever they clashed, Trent always remembered the oath he swore to as a member of the Knights Of Ossory.

“They are the monsters.

They are the blight.

We are the hunters.

We are the light.

They are the terror that haunts our sight.

They are the wrong that we will set right!”

He can’t waver from his mission. He had to find out why they are what they are. Especially when they go Primal. That is when they are truly powerful and nearly unstoppable. It only ever happens when there’s a full moon out and it is truly a sight to behold. They’re wild, animalistic, ravenous and act on uncontrollable impulses. Which is dangerous to and for humans.

So he hunts in order to keep them in check and at bay. And having occasional issues and battles with Roman. He uses his enhanced senses to make decisions when he hunts. He can feel, smell and hear better than anyone on his team. He could always sense when the wolves were near. So he knew when to strike, when to set traps and when to stay hidden.

For the times he did battle with Roman directly, Trent stayed at the ready. Roman was unlike any other Alpha he faced. Roman is the strongest Alpha that Trent had ever faced. Skilled and calculating, Roman has never backed down not that Trent wanted him to. He enjoyed the challenge.

So how does Naia fit into his life? Simple she didn’t. Not at first. To him she was a dream he had that slowly became real. He would have what’s called lucid dreams about a woman’s voice. She would be singing and he’d listen to her. It soothed him. It called to him. It comforted him. He wanted to know more but as soon as he woke up, the voice was gone. But that feeling of longing and of needing to hear it lingered.

He felt haunted every time he went to sleep and would dream of this voice. It would even call to him during the day. Especially when he was hunting or studying werewolves. He fell in love with this woman’s beautiful voice. He had to figure out where it was coming from. He had to know who this mystery woman is.

Was she a woman he’d met in the past? A girl from college? A singer he’d heard sing before? Who was she?

Whenever she sang, he could feel her near. He could smell her. He could almost taste her. But he could never figure out who she was.

One night in a certain dream he heard her sing a song. She was singing Thank You by Estelle.

Sometimes I wonder, do you.

Even recognize the woman that's standing in front of you.

Listen, sometimes I wonder, do you.

Even care or realize why I took care of you.

'Cause you're my heart.

You are my soul.

You're my other half without you I cannot be whole baby.

So far apart, I just don't know.

What drove us apart in the first place now I know baby, why.

These tears I cry sure won't be the last.

They will not be the last, no.

'Cause this pain inside never seems to pass.

It never seems to pass me by.

So I thank you.

Said I thank you.

Yes I thank you.

For making me a woman.

Sometimes I wonder could she be.

More of a woman to you than you are a man to me.

Listen, sometimes I wonder, why me.

I'm here miserable while you're out living your fantasies and didn't care.

'Cause you're my heart.

You are my soul.

You're my other half without you I cannot be whole baby.

So far apart.

I just don't know.

What drove us apart in the first place now I know baby, why.

These tears I cry sure won't be the last.

They will not be the last, no.

'Cause' this pain inside which never seems to pass.

It never seems to pass me by.

So I thank you.

Said I thank you.

Yes I thank you.

For making me a woman.

One thing I learned in life.

We all gotta be ready to sacrifice to survive.

I hope she's happy.

'Cause you're the chapter that I'll be closing hope you're happy.

'Cause once my door close it won't be open.

These tears I cry sure won't be the last.

It will not be the last, no.

This pain inside which never seems to pass.

It never seems to pass me by.

So I thank you.

Said I thank you.

Yes I thank you.

For making me a woman.

So I thank you.

Said I thank you.

Yes I thank you.

For making me a woman.”

Because of her, he became obsessed with the song he heard in his dream. He would sing it to himself as a way to feel closer to her. She became somewhat of a security blanket to him. He knew that whenever he dreamed she would be there. She was an angel to him even though they’d never met.

But little did he know that the girl of his dreams was indeed real. And he would meet her soon. But he will also learn that a war with Roman would come because of it.

[beyondthecosmicvoid]

~Henry VII: The Red Dragon’s Unlikely Triumph~

Henry’s victory to success is simply amazing due to how far down he was in the line of succession -if he was at all! Of all the Tudors, and don’t get me wrong I love them all! He had the most adventurous life! His life is the stuff of movies and you’ll see why. Henry was born to Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond and Margaret Beaufort, heiress of Lancaster in Philippa Gregory’s words. But she was far removed from the line of succession! The Beauforts derived their name from a castle John of Gaunt had in his possession in English occupied French territory. John of Gaunt married three times, the last to his mistress Katherine Swybford. When they married their children were already grown up but by no means less ambitious. In an effort to ingratiate himself with the shifty king Richard II, John betrayed many of his comrades and persecuted anyone who stood against the king, his nephew. In return for his good services, Richard II legitimized all the Beauforts but that’s it. No say if they were inthe succession or not. Later after John died, his firstborn, Henry Bolingbroke ascended to the throne after he deposed Richard. He didn’t overturn Richard’s legislation but added a new restriction: The Beauforts were legitimate in the eyes of the law of men but due to their revious bastard status they were excluded from the line of succession. So bye-bye ambitions. By the time Henry IV’s grandson had issue, this changed altogether. Their descendants were still seen as progeny of a bastard branch (albeit legitimized) of the House of Lancaster but their status had changed overnight as support build around the Duke of York and his Neville relations (who also descended from the Beaufort line, but through the female line). Henry VI betrothed his young relation, Margaret Beaufort to his half brother Edmund Tudor. He was thirteen years her senior and while it was common for women to be married at a young age, people still found it disturbing because the groom didn’t wait for her to grow up. As soon as she was 12, he married her and the next year she was pregnant.Edmund and his brother Jasper had supported the Duke of York on various occasions but when the conflict escalated to war, the Tudor brothers sided with their kin. Edmund was captured during battle in late 1456 and died in attenpts to escape, possibly of sickness. Margaret , thirteen at a time, was already a young widow and expectant mother. She feared for her safety and the safety of her unborn child so she started a dangerous sojourn to Wales, to Pembroke castle where her brother in law resided. There, she gave birth to her only child, a boy she named Henry.Henry did not have a lonely childhood like some Ricardians and fiction writerss love to depict, nor was his mother a crazy fanatic. She was the same as the rest of the women. Religion was not separate, it was part of women’s lives, especially the adoration of female saints and the virgin Mary from whom women kept relics and images to pray to so they could be safely delivered or to protect their young. Of this latter cult, Henry became a firm follower, worshipping the image of the blessed mother with the same fervor as his mother. Likely, the little boy had childhood companions like David Owen, the illegitimate son of his grandfather by an unknown mistress. In spite of her second marriage, Margaret was allowed to visit her little boy and spend hours teaching him, but then her fortunes changed when Edward Earl of March forced the Lancastrians to flee and was declared king by popular acclaim in March 4 1461. Margaret and her new husband now had to curry favor with the new regime and to prove their loyalty, they had to let her son go. Edward saw Henry Tudor as a potential threat and to neutralize this threat he gave his custody to a loyal Yorkist, William Herbert and his wife Anne. They raised Henry as if he was one of their own, and he had the company of the new Earl’s other wards. But Henry knew that a prison made of gold was still a prison. One mistake from his mother, his guadians or worse, his runaway uncle and he would be dealt with.After the Lancastrian Readeption which only lasted a year, Jasper Tudor was forced to flee yet again. This time he took his nephew with him. The deaths of every Lancaster made Henry a potential threat. Every male Beaufort was also gone. Margaret had to let him go once more, this time she would not see him for another fourteen years.Bad weather brought them to the court of Francis II, Duke of Brittany. There he continued his education, by the time of Richard III’s accession, he enjoyed the company of many English exiles, among them the formidable and staunch Lancastrian loyalist -Earl of Oxford. It was in Brittanny, that December of 1483 after it was clear that the princes were gone for good, that he made a promise to marry Elizabeth of York and become King of England, thus uniting both bloodlines, the Houses of York and Lancaster into one.The next year and a half he spent his time planning, borrowing money and now in the court of France, currying favor with the French king. He had tried to invade England but failed. What made Henry think, the French king and others told him, he could succeed? But they didn’t know Henry. He was by now an educated, cosmopolitan young man who was also confident that god was on his side. On July 29 1485, Richard III gave the seal to Barrow, one of his officials to carry out his orders in the counties nearby and prepare for war.To be fair, Richard III was the most experienced soldier here. He had known the horrors of war since he was very little and his life parallels Henry’s but unlike the latter he had been participant in many military campaigns and had the entire North at his disposal. Henry had mercenaries, disatisfied English exiles, Edwardian Yorkists and most of Wales with him, but that was not enough to beat Richard’s armies. On August 7, Henry’s ships docked on Milford Haven. According to Fabyan when he disembarked he knelt and thanked god, reciting the Psalm 43: ‘Judica me deus & discern causam mean’. -Judge me, Oh god, and distinguish my cause. The following days he spent recruiting, some of Richard’s most staunch supporters defected to Henry, others refused to fight and just stood by as the two armies clashed on August 22. Others like his stepfather, chose to intervene in his favor only when the tide turned against him. After William Brandon, his standard bearer was struck down, Stanley and his brother with his armies charged down, and with their combined forced Richard’s was cut down. Richard, according to various sources screamed 'traitors’ and refused to go, instead seeking to confront Henry, but he never got to. The enemy got to him and he was forced down from his horse and minutes later, killed. It was a glorious day for Henry Tudor, now Henry VII. He had won against all odds, but the war was from over. Henry would face many pretenders and plots against him, his mother knew and she cried tears of fear, likely anticipating all her son would have to endure. He died in 1509 after twenty four years of reign.

In relation to Paul Atreides from DUNE MESSIAH onwards …

While DUNE, the first published novel of Frank Herbert set in the Dune universe is the book every reader should start with; DUNE MESSIAH is the most crucial one of ALL Dune novels because rather than reading like a science fiction novel or another inclusion into this space opera, it reads like a narrative tale that is chronicling events that already happened. For a history buff, this novel is the deciding book in the series that sets the tone for the rest of the saga. Additionally, aside from being a deconstruction of the hero mythos, it is also a critique of history. From the onset, the book starts with one of many historians being killed simply because he wanted to tell the truth. But obviously, Muad’Dib, the grand emperor Paul Atreides with his ongoing Jihad spread across the Known Universe can’t have that. So … what does he do? He starts rewriting the past, allowing only a few historians (who in reality are propagandists and religious zealots) to tell his version of history. Irulan is (thankfully) exempt from this. Despite being made fun of by the ‘I do not need to read books because thanks to the spice melange and the superior breeding program of the Bene-Gesserit I am a product of, I can access all the knowledge stored in my super evolved brain to keep feeding my ego’ crowd, she stays a true historian until the very end. She doesn’t agree with Paul Atreides or his other crazy fam, but slowly comes to realize that what they are doing (while terrible) needs to be done to free humanity of pre-destination and oblivion. And due to being understimated by the pretentious Lady Jessica, her husband’s concubine and true love, the Fremen Chani, and of course, Paul and his whole band of Jihadists, she gets to write down history as it truly transpires. But she does it in a way that makes him look less of a tyrant and more of a reluctant hero.

This historical treatment is the same kind of treatment that was given to the Tudor Dynasty starting from its very first monarch, HENRY VII. 

I long for the day that Henry VII is correctly portrayed on screen because the way that the Tudors have gone down in history is how the Atreides clan did in the Dune universe. For every history buff that has enjoyed Dune, I urge that likewise, Dune readers do a deep dive into Tudor history to further appreciate both fandoms and see how the two can be studied together and dissected. Currently, revisionist historians who want to restore Richard III’s reputation have not ended up doing that. Instead, they have swung the pendulum the other way. As DUNE MESSIAH teaches us (through Irulan’s writings and Alia’s observations), the best way to understand saviors and deified leaders is not by extolling or vilifying them. Rather, see them as individuals trapped within their time period who feel as though they are ahead of it, and have to do what they must because otherwise darkness will reign.

Paul and Henry Tudor started off as exiles. Their foes never expected them to beat the odds but they did. But part of the reason why they did is because of the element of prophecy. And I am not just talking about the whole Henry Tudor claimed to be the long lost descendant of Arthur Pendragon and what not. Edward IV and Richard III did that too (though it worked less for Richard). I am talking about the issue with the whole Welsh prophecies that supposedly predicted the rise of Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond. Before he was born, a prophecy was sung that from his father’s line, the savior that the Welsh were hoping for would come. This prophecy in itself was a call back to a much older one which said that eventually one of the Welsh royal houses would rise to claim the English throne and unite all of the Isles. Well … Henry didn’t unite all of the British Isles but he did start the process when he married his eldest daughter Margaret to the King of Scots, James IV. Their descendants, from James VI of Scotland and I of England and Ireland, ruled all the British Isles.

In an interview, Frank Herbert said that he chose to take the direction of Paul Atreides and (especially) his son, Leto II’s stories in the way he did to caution about the danger of charismatic leaders who reach messiah or (in the case of Leto II) divine status. It’s not so much the power they possess or how evolved thy are that makes the Atreides so revered, it is their genius at how they present themselves and understand that the power of propaganda (be it religious, political or both) is the stronger force in the universe and what shapes human events. In studying the Tudors and Dune we learn that history is a collection of accepted events that are part factual, part propaganda, and part a reflection of the time period when they were written.

[minervacasterly]

The Unlikely Rise of Henry VII

Henry's victory to success is simply amazing due to how far he was in the line of succession -if he was at all!

Of all the Tudors, and don't get me wrong I love them all! He had the most adventurous life! His life is the stuff of movies and you'll see why. Henry was born to Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond and Margaret Beaufort, heiress of Lancaster in Philipa Gregory's words. But she was far removed from the line of succession! The Beauforts derived their name from a castle John of Gaunt had in his possession in English occupied French territory. John of Gaunt married three times, the last to his mistress Katherine Swybford. When they married their children were already grown up but by no means less ambitious. In an effort to ingratiate himself with the shifty king Richard II, John betrayed many of his comrades and persecuted anyone who stood against the king, his nephew. In return for his good services, Richard II legitimized all the Beauforts but that's it. No say if they were inthe succession or not. Later after John died, his firstborn, Henry Bolingbroke ascended to the throne after he deposed Richard. He didn't overturn Richard's legislation but added a new restriction: The Beauforts were legitimate in the eyes of the law of men but due to their revious bastard status they were excluded from the line of succession. So bye-bye ambitions. By the time Henry IV's grandson had issue, this changed altogether. Their descendants were still seen as progeny of a bastard branch (albeit legitimized) of the House of Lancaster but their status had changed overnight as support build around the Duke of York and his Neville relations (who also descended from the Beaufort line, but through the female line). Henry VI betrothed his young relation, Margaret Beaufort to his half brother Edmund Tudor. He was thirteen years her senior and while it was common for women to be married at a young age, people still found it disturbing because the groom didn't wait for her to grow up. As soon as she was 12, he married her and the next year she was pregnant.

Edmund and his brother Jasper had supported the Duke of York on various occasions but when the conflict escalated to war, the Tudor brothers sided with their kin. Edmund was captured during battle in late 1456 and died in attenpts to escape, possibly of sickness. Margaret , thirteen at a time, was already a young widow and expectant mother. She feared for her safety and the safety of her unborn child so she started a dangerous sojourn to Wales, to Pembroke castle where her brother in law resided. There, she gave birth to her only child, a boy she named Henry.

Henry did not have a lonely childhood like some Ricardians and fiction writerss love to depict, nor was his mother a crazy fanatic. She was the same as the rest of the women. Religion was not separate, it was part of women's lives, especially the adoration of female saints and the virgin Mary from whom women kept relics and images to pray to so they could be safely delivered or to protect their young. Of this latter cult, Henry became a firm follower, worshipping the image of the blessed mother with the same fervor as his mother.

Likely, the little boy had childhood companions like David Owen, the illegitimate son of his grandfather by an unknown mistress. In spite of her second marriage, Margaret was allowed to visit her little boy and spend hours teaching him, but then her fortunes changed when Edward Earl of March forced the Lancastrians to flee and was declared king by popular acclaim in March 4 1461. Margaret and her new husband now had to curry favor with the new regime and to prove their loyalty, they had to let her son go. Edward saw Henry Tudor as a potential threat and to neutralize this threat he gave his custody to a loyal Yorkist, William Herbert and his wife Anne. They raised Henry as if he was one of their own, and he had the company of the new Earl's other wards. But Henry knew that a prison made of gold was still a prison. One mistake from his mother, his guadians or worse, his runaway uncle and he would be dealt with.

After the Lancastrian Readeption which only lasted a year, Jasper Tudor was forced to flee yet again. This time he took his nephew with him. The deaths of every Lancaster made Henry a potential threat. Every male Beaufort was also gone. Margaret had to let him go once more, this time she would not see him for another fourteen years.

Bad weather brought them to the court of Francis II, Duke of Brittany. There he continued his education, by the time of Richard III's accession, he enjoyed the company of many English exiles, among them the formidable and staunch Lancastrian loyalist -Earl of Oxford. It was in Brittanny, that December of 1483 after it was clear that the princes were gone for good, that he made a promise to marry Elizabeth of York and become King of England, thus uniting both bloodlines, the Houses of York and Lancaster into one.

The next year and a half he spent his time planning, borrowing money and now in the court of France, currying favor with the French king. He had tried to invade England but failed. What made Henry think, the French king and others told him, he could succeed? But they didn't know Henry. He was by now an educated, cosmopolitan young man who was also confident that god was on his side.

On July 29 1485, Richard III gave the seal to Barrow, one of his officials to carry out his orders in the counties nearby and prepare for war.

To be fair, Richard III was the most experienced soldier here. He had known the horrors of war since he was very little and his life parallels Henry's but unlike the latter he had been participant in many military campaigns and had the entire North at his disposal. Henry had mercenaries, disatisfied English exiles, Edwardian Yorkists and most of Wales with him, but that was not enough to beat Richard's armies.

On August 7, Henry's ships docked on Milford Haven. According to Fabyan when he disembarked he knelt and thanked god, reciting the Psalm 43: 'Judica me deus & discern causam mean'. -Judge me, Oh god, and distinguish my cause.

The following days he spent recruiting, some of Richard's most staunch supporters defected to Henry, others refused to fight and just stood by as the two armies clashed on August 22. Others like his stepfather, chose to intervene in his favor only when the tide turned against him. After William Brandon, his standard bearer was struck down, Stanley and his brother with his armies charged down, and with their combined forced Richard's was cut down. Richard, according to various sources screamed 'traitors' and refused to go, instead seeking to confront Henry, but he never got to. The enemy got to him and he was forced down from his horse and minutes later, killed. It was a glorious day for Henry Tudor, now Henry VII. He had won against all odds, but the war was from over. Henry would face many pretenders and plots against him, his mother knew and she cried tears of fear, likely anticipating all her son would have to endure. He died in 1509 after twenty four years of reign.

[transfemininomenon]

Hey, i'm actually a "truscum" i found out recently, but im a little confused on the whole ordeal. Im not even sure if i actually am truscum or not- because some posts seem to tie up with me being one but others dont, but i saw you were really against them, so i wanted to ask if you're okay with a friendly calm conversation about it? I am very confused and i just want to learn a bit more or find out if i'm wrong about the whole ordeal. Are you open to it?

i'll be honest im not sure how friendly i can be with this kind of conversation because i really truly genuinely, and i don't use this word lightly, Hate truscum and its hard for me to really be civil about the discussion. but for the sake of this and me giving you a lot of benefit of the doubt that this ask is in good faith i'll explain why i do not like the entire truscum ideology

1. i guess i'll start off with the Big One - the claim that dysphoria is Required to be trans. i'll preface this by saying that i am someone who has experienced, and currently Experiences in wildly different degrees depending on what is happening in my life, dysphoria throughout my entire life. i had my entire teenage and young adult years stolen from me by it. i won't get into details about it because that is a Very Very Personal subject for me, but needless to say dysphoria is something that was a very prevalent part of my life.

anyway. the notion that dysphoria is a Trans Requirement™ is something that i hugely disagree with. i used to think that me figuring out i was a trans woman was because i experienced dysphoria, but frankly the opposite is true. dysphoria is what made me refuse to believe i was a woman or could ever be one. it made me believe i was a man and that was all i would ever be. it wasn't until i really started experimenting with my gender and unpacking a lot of stuff i felt about myself that i started to finally realize the woman i was. i first started trying our she/her pronouns nearing four years now, and started using the name Alice a few months after that. being referred to as a woman & experimenting with different feminine things gave me such incredible feelings of euphoria that i still experience to this day whenever i discover something new about my identity.

and that is something ive heard from SO many other trans people i know. or different things too - i know people who are completely fine with their bodies, just certain words and terms never felt Right to them. because the thing with dysphoria is that it, like all things gender related, is a product of society. dysphoria only exists because transphobia exists - people are told that there are these two rigid things that you are and HERE is what makes you one of those things, and those things are drilled into you literally since birth. everything from colors to jobs to hobbies to cars to entertainment to clothing to Literally Everything is gendered, and when that happens then of fucking course there are gonna be people who don't fall in line with that, and when it's so instilled into people and seen as such societal norms of COURSE people are going to have trouble with that.

and that's not even getting into the subject of gender on a biological level. the fact of the matter is that the two sex system Isn't True and that biological sex is very complicated. intersex people exist, people with all kinds of different chromosomes exist, people of certain body types that have higher levels of different hormones exist, SO much goes into that subject that frankly narrowing it down to two things just doesn't Work

and that's the real problem at the end of the day. dysphoria only exists because of a fucked up gender binary that clashes with both biology and sociology. people are complicated on both a biological and personal level and having set binaries for things is bound to cause confusion & doubt.

like, people's identities are SUCH personal things in so many different ways. there isn't any Right Way™ to be trans. i know trans women with beards, trans women who have no interest in starting hrt, trans men who wear dresses and makeup, non-binary people who make no effort to be androgynous, i know SO many different identities and different people. because the fact is that there's no right way to be trans because nothing is inherently gendered including people's very bodies. people are themselves and there is no Right way to be themselves.

that's on top of the lack of education when it comes to the subject of gender. such a huge part too of me figuring out i was trans was literally learning that it was even a fucking option. i genuinely didn't know just Being A Girl was an option. reading up on gender stuff and researching the different idea of transitioning was intrinsic in my figuring out who i was because oh shit turns out there are people like me and that is Okay.

like, dysphoria literally could've been a non-issue for me. i could've lived in a world where i could just Exist and enjoy whatever i wanted without it being weird. i could've decided so much sooner that i wasn't happy with the way my body was growing and not spent my entire teen years being so confused why i was so sad seeing my girl peers. i could have from the start just gotten to be a girl and never have had dysphoria be part of the equation.

im not trans being i experience dysphoria. im trans because being a woman is rad as hell and it's what i wanted. im trans because changing my name to Alice was the biggest moment of my entire life. im trans because rebelling against the societal restraints of gender is fucking metal. im trans because my friends can't even remember me ever not being me now. im trans because im a great older sister. im trans because god nerfed me and i said nah thanks man but im not feeling it.

my identity and my gender are very personal and complicated things, and narrowing it down to "i experience dysphoria" is frankly insulting to me.

anyway, that's the big point out of the way, so here's some shorter ones

2. this is kinda expanding on the last point, but truscum both insisting non-binary people aren't a thing and them insisting "transtrenders" exist is hmm Bad

the sheer fact of the matter is the concept of being non-binary has existed from the oldest known records of human history on TOP of that concept being prevalent in many different cultures so what do ya know there's a healthy dose of racism involved in the denial of non-binary people. the gender binary is such a western concept and there are SO many different cultures where different gender identities exist.

and, frankly, going back to the above point that gender is fucking Fake and is a societal concept - again, of fucking course there are going to be people who see a rigid set of rules on gender and are like "well wait that doesn't fit me" so of COURSE non-binary people exist

on the subject of "transtrenders" i feel like i shouldn't even HAVE to get into this subject because of how inherently transphobic it is. the concept doesn't exist. there are people who experiment with their gender and then decide their assigned one is fine. there are people who go through all kinds of different identities. there are people who come out as a different gender and then revert back due to backlash. there are people who get told the way they present their gender is the Wrong Way™ and get branded a trender. it's a dangerous thought process that literally does nothing but serve the cis status quo and make people afraid to experiment and think about their identities.

3. the idea that Those Evil Trenders™ are stealing resources from the Real Trans People™ is, frankly, fucking bullshit. issues when it comes to trans people finding difficulty accessing healthcare comes from a transphobic society hellbent on denying us care on top of fucked up healthcare systems in general. hormones aren't some limited quality hard to acquire thing - when i started hrt transferring my prescription from my clinic to my local pharmacy was a non-issue because it's something basically any pharmacy will have for ALL kinds of different purposes. it's an issue because healthcare in general is a god damn Mess on TOP of inherent transphobia

and, frankly, truscum are directly involved in that transphobia in the medical field. unless you find an informed consent clinic you're going to have to jump through all kinds of hoops to prove you're Actually Trans™ by getting referrals from other (almost always cis) people and then get put on ridiculous waitlists to make sure you're not about to change your mind. that kind of attitude is only encouraged by truscum and it is one of the biggest source of trans people having such difficulty accessing healthcare.

4. truscum as far as im concerned are no different than any other transphobe. two years ago before i started hrt i was harassed by truscum multiple times, each time having them tell me i wasn't trans, that i was just a trender, and it genuinely boggles my mind that anyone thinks misgendering me because i disagreed with their ideology is Woke, actually. I've seen so many fellow trans women getting called men by truscum who disagreed with them. i was actively told i shouldn't start hrt because i "wasn't really trans and was gonna ruin my life"

i really hope all of people live in anger every day knowing ive been on hrt over a year and a half and am fucking Thriving

anyway that's all i got to say on the matter i realize my points became less thought out as it went on but frankly the first point is enough for me to not like truscum

(please refrain from reblogging this i don't want any clowns in my inbox)

[janiedean]

jaime, pia and perceived ideals of knighthood vs effective knightly deeds

for jaime lannister week, day seven: free choice [in this case: META DAY? APPARENTLY.]

so, for the occasion I figured I’d rant about a specific instance in jaime’s asos/affc arc that might be a tad overlooked as it features a minor character but that I think is really important to his arc/his character evolution, as in: how his subplot concerning pia in both books actually shows that while he thinks he turned into the smiling knight, for someone he’s been arthur dayne all along and how actually pia is about the one person to whom he’s never not been anyone or anything else else, which should in turn suggest that he’s been arthur dayne deep down for way longer than he himself thinks.

first of all, I would like to go into the canon instances on which jaime himself reflects on the issue:

The world was simpler in those days, Jaime thought, and men as well as swords were made of finer steel. Or was it only that he had been fifteen? They were all in their graves now, the Sword of the Morning and the Smiling Knight, the White Bull and Prince Lewyn, Ser Oswell Whent with his black humor, earnest Jon Darry, Simon Toyne and his Kingswood Brotherhood, bluff old Sumner Crakehall. And me, that boy I was . . . when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys's throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.  ASOS, Jaime VIII

"When I was a squire I told myself I'd be the man to slay the Smiling Knight."

"The Smiling Knight?" She sounded lost. "Who was that?"

The Mountain of my boyhood. Half as big but twice as mad. AFFC, Jaime IV

"You could kill Lord Beric, Ser Jaime. You slew the Smiley Knight. Please, my lord, I beg you, stay and help us with Lord Beric and the Hound." Her pale fingers caressed his golden ones.

Does she think that I can feel that? "The Sword of the Morning slew the Smiling Knight, my lady. Ser Arthur Dayne, a better knight than me." AFFC, Jaime IV

now, there are a few things we can deduce from these (there’s more on the arthur subject, but the crux here is the contraposition):

jaime has a very idealized view of his squiring period, obviously, because it’s the one time in which he was doing what he felt like he was born to do (being a knight) and in which he was part of an heroic quest/deed (slaying the smiling knight) that he carried out with his role model (arthur dayne);

the smiling knight himself is compared to gregor clegane, ie the worst person we could think of in these series;

in jaime’s head there’s a definite dichotomy in between arthur (extreme good) and the smiling knight (extreme bad);

jaime wanted to be like arthur (which he has no problem admitting now post hand-loss) but thinks that he turned into the smiling knight ie the worst possible other end of the specter, so he’a actually making himself look worse than he actually is as nothing he’s done in canon until that point is comparable to what gregor did if we stand by that comparison;

jaime *told himself he would slay the smiling knight* ie he dreamed of being the person who’d carry out that quest - it earned him the knighthood and he took part in it but he didn’t exactly do it as he points out later, as he says that arthur was a better knight than he was.

now, while we could discuss for ages about how jaime’s extremely idealized view of arthur and the rest of aerys’s KG doesn’t necessarily match up with reality (I mean, we don’t know much about what arthur was up to during the rebellion and we’ll never know until we get a direct account of what happened at the tower of joy but the man died trying to prevent ned from reaching his dying sister after his side lost the war, after rhaegar died and so on, which doesn’t look exactly knightly to me or at least it’s fairly morally gray/shady from the elements that we have), but the point I want to make here is that the way jaime sees it, he completely failed to uphold knightly vows, hasn’t measured up to his role model, turned into the kind of monster that he was dreaming of slaying when he was young and ponders when exactly that switch happened. and he mentions as possibilities a) when he went into the KG, b) when he killed aerys.

before I move on to the actual point, though, I’d like to point out one moment what is actually the oath knights swear when being anointed, as per ASOS and The Hedge Knight:

[..], do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?

+

In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women....

so, very shortly and not counting the ones about obeying one’s commander or liege lord, the crux is protecting innocent/weaker people including women and children who can’t defend themselves any better.

so, jaime thinks he’s done nothing of that and that he’s not doing anything of that. fair enough. follow-up under the cut for length.

now, on to pia: before going on to how she matters in his arc, we should keep in mind that from what we know from arya’s chapters in a clash of kings:

Arya heard all sorts of secrets just by keeping her ears open as she went about her duties. Pretty Pia from the buttery was a slut who was working her way through every knight in the castle. Hot Pie was kneading bread, his arms floured up to his elbows. "Pia saw something in the buttery last night." Arya made a rude noise. Pia was always seeing things in the buttery. Usually they were men. Tothmure had been sent to the axe for dispatching birds to Casterly Rock and King's Landing the night Harrenhal had fallen, Lucan the armorer for making weapons for the Lannisters, Goodwife Harra for telling Lady Whent's household to serve them, the steward for giving Lord Tywin the keys to the treasure vault. The cook was spared (some said because he'd made the weasel soup), but stocks were hammered together for pretty Pia and the other women who'd shared their favors with Lannister soldiers. Stripped and shaved, they were left in the middle ward beside the bear pit, free for the use of any man who wanted them.

so: we know that she’s a serving hand (so she’s a woman of low birth who has virtually no protection whatsoever), that she’s good-looking and that she most likely enjoys having sex (nothing bad about that)… but that people shame her for it (see the first quote). we also can deduce that she was willing in her enjoyment of sex and so on… but the last that we know from arya’s chapters, when roose conquers it, she’s stripped and shaved and left free for use for having slept with lannister soldiers, so we can add that on top of that she most likely was raped and we can deduce that not many people would have considered it such after because of her previous reputation for promiscuity.

now, what happens after is that qyburn sends her to jaime figuring that he’d appreciate it:

“I understand you had a visitor last night,” said Qyburn. “I trust that you enjoyed her?”

Jaime gave him a cool look. “She did not say who sent her.”

The maester smiled modestly. “Your fever was largely gone, and I thought you might enjoy a bit of exercise. Pia is quite skilled, would you not agree? And so . . . willing.”

what we can deduce here is that qyburn sent her to jaime after the whole part where she was put up for *free use* by any man who wanted her and he still says she’s willing, which is actually true but more on that later, but to qyburn it really doesn’t matter most likely because of her previous fame. also he talks about her as if she’s not a person with feelings (she’s skilled, you enjoyed her etc.), while jaime does not sleep with her out of faithfulness towards cersei, but what’s interesting is how pia said she saw the entire thing:

“She had been that, certainly. She had slipped in his door and out of her clothes so quickly that Jaime had thought he was still dreaming.

It hadn’t been until the woman slid in under his blankets and put his good hand on her breast that he roused. She was a pretty little thing, too. “I was a slip of a girl when you came for Lord Whent’s tourney and the king gave you your cloak,” she confessed. “You were so handsome all in white, and everyone said what a brave knight you were. Sometimes when I’m with some man, I close my eyes and pretend it’s you on top of me, with your smooth skin and gold curls. I never truly thought I’d have you, though.”

Sending her away had not been easy after that, but Jaime had done it all the same. I have a woman, he reminded himself. “Do you send girls to everyone you leech?” he asked Qyburn.

“More often Lord Vargo sends them to me. He likes me to examine them, before . . . well, suffice it to say that once he loved unwisely, and he has no wish to do so again. But have no fear, Pia is quite healthy. As is your maid of Tarth.”

Jaime gave him a sharp look. “Brienne?”

now, never mind that the entire exchange ends up with jaime finding out that brienne is in danger and it’s just before his dream and the bear pit as in, his Extremely Knightly Moment in asos which is also relevant as that episode (while not the first knightly thing he does after losing the hand since saving brienne from being raped while on their road trip would count) is the first major gesture of the kind he does: we know that after she was most likely raped repeatedly, she got sent to *him*, and we find out that she’s actually been thinking of him in extremely knightly terms all along since she saw him getting knighted. now she says she was a slip of a girl so she most likely was around four or five and she still remembers that he looked handsome and brave (knightly virtues) and that when she’s with other people she pretends it’s jaime making love to her, to the point that she can’t believe her luck that she’d actually end up with him. now, he refuses (even if he finds it hard), but he’s most likely one of the few people (if not the only one) who would have done that and he also doesn’t appreciate qyburn basically whoring her out, so at least he’s giving her some basic respect… but the point here is that to pia he sounds/looks like the embodiment of everything he thinks he’s not (brave/knightly) and she’s been thinking that since he went into the kingsguard ie one of the two moments that in the above quote he thought might have been when he turned from arthur into the smiling knight, which therefore would *not* match her idea of him as a splendid example of knightly valor… in theory.

now, at this point, regardless of what happened in between arya leaving harrenhal and jaime getting there, pia still seems to not having undergone through massive changes since what we saw in acok - she’s still pretty, she enjoys sex and she definitely is willing at least when it comes to the one man she’s been having an idealized crush on for years and that she thinks of when having sex with other men.

then jaime goes back to harrenhal in affc before heading for riverrun and he meets her again:

Any hopes he might have nursed of finding Shagwell, Pyg, or Zollo languishing in the dungeons were sadly disappointed. The Brave Companions had abandoned Vargo Hoat to a man, it would seem. Of Lady Whent's people, only three remained—the cook who had opened the postern gate for Ser Gregor, a bent-back armorer called Ben Blackthumb, and a girl named Pia, who was not near as pretty as she had been when Jaime saw her last. Someone had broken her nose and knocked out half her teeth. The girl fell at Jaime's feet when she saw him, sobbing and clinging to his leg with hysterical strength till Strongboar pulled her off. "No one will hurt you now," he told her, but that only made her sob the louder. +

“Take the whore as well," Ser Bonifer urged. "You know the one. The girl from the dungeons."

"Pia." The last time he had been here, Qyburn had sent the girl to his bed, thinking that would please him. But the Pia they had brought up from the dungeons was a different creature from the sweet, simple, giggly creature who'd crawled beneath his blankets. She had made the mistake of speaking when Ser Gregor wanted quiet, so the Mountain had smashed her teeth to splinters with a mailed fist and broken her pretty little nose as well. He would have done worse, no doubt, if Cersei had not called him down to King's Landing to face the Red Viper's spear. Jaime would not mourn him.

"Pia was born in this castle," he told Ser Bonifer. "It is the only home she has ever known."

"She is a font of corruption," said Ser Bonifer. "I won't have her near my men, flaunting her . . . parts."

so, what happens is that when gregor (as in, the person jaime compared the smiling knight with before) was in harrenhal he smashed her teeth with a mailed first because she spoke out of turn and as per what the next quote says, she’s also been repeatedly raped again, and she’s definitely way traumatized and in a position of absolute helplessness… and she throws herself at jaime’s feet most likely seeing him as a possible savior - let’s remember that she’s idealized him as a brave knight all along, and he does promise she won’t be hurt, which is what he technically should do per his knightly vows. now, when he tries to argue for her staying in harrenhal, ser bonifer ie the person appointed to mind the castle in his absence says he doesn’t want her around because she’s a supposed whore regardless of how bad off she is right now. he could have ignored the issue, but he doesn’t and takes her as a washerwoman in his own army, and with that he already removes her from a place where she would have been even less safe than usual, but the important thing is in the next part:

Pia listened as solemnly as a girl of five being lessoned by her septa. That's all she is, a little girl in a woman's body, scarred and scared. Peck was taken with her, though. Jaime suspected that the boy had never known a woman, and Pia was still pretty enough, so long as she kept her mouth closed. There's no harm in him bedding her, I suppose, so long as she's willing.

One of the Mountain's men had tried to rape the girl at Harrenhal, and had seemed honestly perplexed when Jaime commanded Ilyn Payne to take his head off. "I had her before, a hunnerd times," he kept saying as they forced him to his knees. "A hunnerd times, m'lord. We all had her." When Ser Ilyn presented Pia with his head, she had smiled through her ruined teeth.

now: never mind that jaime (who as we all know is not the kind of person who reacts with a shrug when hearing/knowing someone has been raped or he wouldn’t be feeling guilty about his inaction with rhaella nor he’d have risked his hide to save brienne from it thrice two of which were post-hand loss and in one of those he wasn’t even able to stand by himself) always thinks that if she has to bed someone the important thing is that she’s *willing* nor thinks less of her for he promiscuity, which for westeros is fairly progressive all things considered… but he gives her the head of the guy who tried to rape her and by his own admission did it before *a hundred times* same as other soldiers in his group, and… she smiles through ruined teeth ie she doesn’t even care about hiding it, when later she takes care to cover her mouth when she speaks around other nobles. also, we can discuss that when she and peck start sleeping together jaime tells them to use his bed and:

The squire turned beet red.

"If she'll have you, take her. She'll teach you a few things you'll find useful on your wedding night, I don't doubt, and you're not like to get a bastard by her." Pia had spread her legs for half his father's army and never quickened; most like the girl was barren. "If you bed her, though, be kind to her."

"Kind, my lord? How . . . how would I . . . ?"

"Sweet words. Gentle touches. You don't want to wed her, but so long as you're abed treat her as you would your bride."

now: obviously he can’t tell his squire (who is still noble) that he should marry a woman who is a commoner, most likely barren and way older than he is, but he tells him that he still should treat her *as if she was* until they sleep together, and his standard for how you’d treat your bride is sweet words and gentle touches which most likely is not what pia’s gotten until this point much if ever, and throughout the entire thing while he is attracted to her and he doesn’t deny it to himself he still doesn’t act on it. and meanwhile since she’s still traveling with his army of which he’s in command she’s in a position of relative safety, never mind that if people know that he ordered beheaded the guy who tried to touch her when she wasn’t willing she definitely isn’t under that risk right now.

back to the beginning, what are the knightly vows again? protecting innocent/weaker people including women and children who can’t defend themselves any better. what has jaime done with pia on her end? he didn’t sleep with her nor treated her as a commodity, he has quite literally protected her taking her into his service when she was in danger, he’s made sure that she wouldn’t have to sleep with anyone she didn’t want to, has respected her agency and gave her the head of at least one of the guys who raped her, which considering that the person hurting her was *gregor clegane* ie the man he’s roundabout compared *himself* to in asos if we go by the smiling knight = gregor comparison… it’s kind of the entire opposite thing and absolutely counts as fulfilling every single knightly vow he made since he protected/saved/avenged a woman in a position of absolute helplessness about whose agency no one cares because everyone decided that since she likes sex then she must always want it.

the thing that’s important though is that by doing that… he’s pretty much proved her right, in the sense that if she’s always imagined him as the brave handsome knight since she was a little girl and he had just been anointed and she always idealized him to the point where she’d think about him when being with other people because obviously his idealized self would be everything she might want then he about went and proved her right regardless of any other shortcoming of his or regardless of any horrible thing he might have done before or after, because to her he most likely would be a knight out of songs since he did waltz in, promised no one would hurt her after it happened to her and actually delivered on it in spades.

but, while for *her* it’s definitely the case, jaime himself doesn’t think of it in very knightly terms, at most we have:

“Ser Harwyn says those tales are lies." Lady Amerei wound a braid around her finger. "He has promised me Lord Beric's head. He's very gallant." She was blushing beneath her tears.

Jaime thought back on the head he'd given to Pia. He could almost hear his little brother chuckle. Whatever became of giving women flowers? Tyrion might have asked. He would have had a few choice words for Harwyn Plumm as well, though gallant would not have been one of them. 

now, he’s thinking of it in the context of a romantic gesture since it was described as one before, but then he says gallant wouldn’t be one of those words and he doesn’t really register what he did as *gallant* or knightly while most likely pia would. also, he’s comparing himself to both the smiling knight and gregor (in another quote later he dreams of punching in the teeth one of cersei’s lovers the way gregor did while he’s still working through how betrayed that made him feel, but thing is, he doesn’t act on that at any point except when he punches ronnet for brienne and it’s nowhere near as bad as what he describes himself as) but he behaves in the entire opposite way since at least in pia’s case gregor about ruined her life and he avenged it/helped her/did what he could for her which is about more than most likely anyone ever did, and to her certainly everything he did would indeed look as knightly as it goes.

but like the entire point is that jaime doesn’t think of the knightly deeds he actually pulls off as such - he doesn’t think that of saving brienne’s life at the bear pit/saving her from being raped/giving her oathkeeper when brienne herself definitely sees them as such as in her affc chapters she keeps on thinking about both instances as proof that he’s Definitely A Honorable Person, he doesn’t think that of what he does with pia nor of anything else positive he’s ever done/does, which ties with the overall arc he has in which he has to realize that he can still be the person he wanted to be. in asos he thinks he turned into the smiling knight when he’s never been all along, in both asos and affc he does behave following the code when he can and hates not being able to when he can’t/when he’s forced to (see having to take riverrun when he says he has sworn to not raise arms against the tullys and he hates it) but he still doesn’t seem to have taken the leap and realized that he actually behaves in entirely different ways than he thinks (see that he thinks he’s the same as cersei when most of the things he does/he cares about are the entire contrary), so the subplot with pia shows that he’s actually doing that without realizing it… with the twist that, going back to the beginning:

he thinks he turned into the smiling knight (= gregor) sometime along the way when he wanted to be arthur dayne, then he’s the literal knight in shining armor to a girl who was hurt by gregor and his father’s men who always thought he was pretty much the embodiment of the institution same as jaime thought arthur dayne was, and it’s a girl who has no idea of anything else he might have done other than killing aerys and she obviously doesn’t care since she doesn’t mention it when she goes to his bed the first time. so there is someone to whom he was an arthur dayne all along, and the moment he could do something for her, he actually delivered and definitely was arthur dayne to her, not the smiling knight, and she’d know since she was hurt by the man jaime himself compared to him first. now, it’s important because everyone else that has had a chance to know that jaime actually does have that potential is people with whom he has an actual rship/who have seen him at his worst/with whom he has unresolved Issues To Solve ASAP (I’m meaning mostly brienne and tyrion - brienne didn’t like him whatsoever in the beginning and with tyrion there’s the whole matter of the tysha backstory which obviously ruined the high opinion tyrion had of him even if I think it’s salvageable) but in this case pia already thought she was arthur dayne As A Paragon Of Knightly Virtues (not as how arthur actually was which is as stated an entire other issue in itself) and he lived up to it without even realizing he was doing it, but he doesn’t even think once about whether he shouldn’t help her or he shouldn’t give her the time of the day. like, he doesn’t really consider doing otherwise or not giving a shit about what happens to her regardless. which should also automatically suggest that it’s actually in his nature to do the right thing/follow the basics of his vows. obviously he didn’t realize that but as finding out he has it in himself to be the person he wanted to be when he was young and that he didn’t turn into a gregor stand-in is I think one of the main themes in his arc, I also think this specific subplot really underlines how he’s still in the middle of figuring it out while also stressing that regardless of what he thinks about what he is or what he became, he can be arthur dayne As A Paragon and that he can deliver on that/be what he always dreamed he could be for someone who already saw him as that paragon and whom he hasn’t disappointed in any other way.

in short: by helping someone who exactly meets all the criteria for ‘category he swore to protect when taking his vows’ when this person already saw him as a paragon, he’s actually contradicting his own assessment of his morality/honor or lack thereof, because while he thinks he wanted to be arthur dayne and turned into the contrary, to other people he always was arthur dayne and when he could show them that he could be, he delivered on those expectations, differently from what most others did to him, and I find it quite a beautiful if heartbreaking parallel and also definitely a not so small hint that his overall storyline is going towards realize that he, in fact, isn’t the smiling knight at all and never actually has been.

[hellyeahheroes]

The Post-Mortem for the New Age of Heroes

At the beginning of this year, I had prepared my totally original idea for April Fools 2019. I wanted to film myself in Jim Sterling cosplay performing a Jimquisition parody. Instead, I managed to somehow break my only shitty mic and gave youtubing a pause for time being. So you will have to enjoy what was supposed to be a recording in written text in form. At the end of the text I will do a face reveal, I owe you that.

It has become undeniable by now that the New Age of Heroes was a financial failure. Out of eight new titles that have launched only two are still going. And out of these two, one is already dead, like a guy slapped by Kenshiro of cancellations. And from its fall we can see an image of failures and poorly thought decisions at the editorial level.

Spinning out of incredibly popular, both among fans and critics alike, Dark Nights: Metal, New Age of Heroes was originally named the Dark Matter. It was supposed to form a thematic trilogy with Metal and it’s own prelude. Dark Days lead to Dark Nights, which gives birth to Dark Matter. Simple and catchy, an okay marketing strategy. However, the name was hastily changed at the last minute to a much more generic New Age of Heroes. And to my knowledge, we never really got an answer as to why, leaving us only with speculations. My theory, and this is only a theory, of course, is that someone at the higher level either felt that Dark Matter was not grandiose enough or that the audiences are just too stupid to get it. 

The imprint was supposed to first launch at September 2017 only to have been pushed to December and then to February 2018. At the same time, we had some minor changes regarding the original promo picture showing the characters and more specific one - Damage, whose original design is nothing like the one in promotional material. All this shows there was some executive meddling in the production of the series, not unlike the one that haunted the infamous New 52. 

The strong nostalgia for the 90s is another thing New Age of Heroes shared with New 52, with pretty much every title being in one way or another a throwback to the era. Just like in early Image, many of the new characters who were clearly invoking a feeling of edgier versions of classic Marvel characters. Damage is DC’s third of fourth attempt at making the Hulk since the launch of New 52, Brimstone is Ghost Rider, even Sideways looked like edgy Spider-Man, despite not being edgy at all. On the team side, the Terrifics was deliberately a homage to classic Fantastic Four and this seems to have worked in its favor. While other books had to prove they are more than just knockoffs of the competitors most famous characters, the Terrifics has been embraced as a spiritual homage by FF fandom, especially at the time when Marvel was not publishing that series. However, even other team books had to deal with Marvel comparisons. it didn’t help that Immortal Men was very intentionally playing a homage to the 90′s X-men books and that narrative style, up o shoehorning in it popular villain Batman Who laughs for no apparent reason. While I think it made the book ironically better than titles it was trying to honor, it undeniable set it up to comparisons. The Unexpected had characters who kinda reminded people of Thor and Doctor Strange leading to comparisons with both Avengers and the Defenders. Even the most original title, the Silencer and the relaunch of classic DC book Challengers of the Unknown as the New Challengers had fans attempt to claim they’re ripping off Marvel properties on some flimsy logic. Unfortunately, this all gave the line an impression of just being a Marvel knockoff and made it harder for it to stand on its own.

New Age of Heroes was supposed to have a larger emphasis on artists, putting their names before writers in the credits on the cover and in the issue itself referring to them both as storytellers. Only for that to be undermined the moment the books had mediocre sales and all famous artists who were supposed to be the main draw have been moved to more high-profile books to play second fiddle to the writers again. In the end, New Age of Heroes suffered all the problems with treating artists as secondary as rest of mainstream titles, with artists being shuffled around as it was deemed fit, often without abbility to give a book any visual coherence even in the middle of an arc.

Aside, these examples of editorial incompetence and neglect, we quickly saw two titles, New Challengers and immortal Men, end at issue six, seemingly to allow Scott Snyder and James Tynion IV to focus more on the Justice League and Batman Who Laughs. The Unexpected followed, lasting only eight issues. Curse of the Brimstone and Sideways survived twelve and thirteen issues respectively. Damage, one of the first launches of the imprint, ended at issue sixteen and Silencer will be ending at a similar number. 

All of these saddens me because I quite frankly enjoyed a lot of these books. Sideways was a flawed but entertaining throwback to classic teen superhero books and had it sold better could honestly build enough momentum to rival Ms. Marvel. Curse of the Brimstone was a good horror, Immortal Men was more entertaining than it had any right to be as a 90s homage and the Silencer actually formed an engaging narrative I was not expecting at first glance. Part of me wants to blame any of the above reasons, be it Marvel comparisons or editorial incompetence. But Part of me also wonders if the whole initiative hasn’t just been poorly planned out. Maybe it was a bad idea to launch eight new titles in such a short amount of time. Maybe some of them would have worked better, were the writers put on a single book in the style of 52, with multiple writers and weekly schedule? I don’t know but it feels that it could maybe give more life to Immortal Men, New Challengers and the Unexpected. However, the fact that so many bad decisions occurred on an editorial level only shows how poorly planned the initiative was. It saddens me as I know the failure of those titles to make a lasting impact, the only book still not canceled being also the only one without all new cast of characters, will make it harder to push for more original titles in the future. And so I weep for the New Age of Heroes. It could have been great.

So that’s it for today. I’m going to crawl into a hole and ignore all the news today due to the number of pranks. Be careful with what you read online, not just today, but in today in particular, thank god for me and get ready for my face reveal!

I love April’s Fools

- Admin

[penumbra-rp]

Congratulations Akanksha, you have been accepted for the role of Bellatrix Black!

Her gaze flicked towards the interviewer, and the thin veneer of a post wave feminist boss slid over her skin “— I think it’s really important for me to be seen in this position. It’s rather odd that the fashion industry is catered towards women and yet most executives, and even designers, in the top fashion houses are…men.”

Admin Ash: Akanksha, I absolutely adored that Bellatrix was the feminist force of nature that the fashion world wasn’t ready for but she forced them to accept. You said that Bellatrix was a woman better suited to battle, wearing her skin like armor and possessing the keen readiness to obliterate obstacles in her path in whatever form they took. And as you go through the stages of her life, you can see that she’s in a consistent fight, grappling with numerous battles -- with her mother to take on less upper-class societal norms, with her father to be taken seriously as a business woman, with her volatile nature as it needed to be subdued without the proper outlet to put it. But now that the Death Eaters have given her that outlet, I’m beyond ready to see Bellatrix tap into her nastier self. 

Please check out our checklist for joining Penumbra. 

01. Out of Character

NAME: Akanksha

AGE: 23

YOUR BIRTHDAY: 10/31/1995

PRONOUNS: she/her/hers

TIMEZONE: EST

02. In Character

CHARACTER: Bellatrix Black

CHARACTER’S PRONOUNS: she/her/hers

FACECLAIM: Crystal Reed

CHARACTER’S BIRTHDAY: April 14th, 1988

PERSONALITY:

(+) EFFICIENT – Electricity followed the path of least resistance and Bellatrix was the same way; she saw her solutions in straight lines. Obstacles were removed not circumvented. In the business world, this garnered her praise – she had an uncanny ability to cut through bureaucratic paperwork. In the other matters, this trait was especially welcome. Deliveries were made quickly and discreetly. And those who interfered were eliminated at once, with little time spent contemplating the morality of it all.

(+) INTELLIGENT – Perhaps if knowledge wasn’t such a means to an end, she would have spent more time in academia. Nonetheless, Bellatrix actively sought to learn more, to know more. From languages to stocks, she kept an attentive eye on new trends. Developing a vast and in-depth repertoire of skills was what kept her far and ahead from anyone else, and she aimed to keep it that way.

(+) PROTECTIVE – Bellatrix protected what was hers. She’d learned at the foot of her father, strict but unhesitating when crushing those who would do his family harm. Those outside her family must work much harder to be considered one of hers. But once they’ve earned their place in her shadow, she will do whatever necessary to protect them and more often than not, their mistakes.

(-) VOLATILE – Bellatrix has always struggled to hide what she’s felt. This issue is greatly compounded by her mercurial nature. She went from calm to furious in a breath, and settled just as quickly. This made her rather unpredictable; some days she’d let a mistake pass and others she’d use it as an excuse to indulge in her more violent tendencies.

(-) CRUEL — Perhaps the most offensive aspect of Bellatrix was her particular brand of violence. She didn’t simply eliminate her obstacles, she obliterated them. For any perceived slight, her retaliation was ten-fold. She was quite simply mean, and rarely for good reason. Bellatrix enjoyed being cruel; it slaked some tormented creature inside her that she’d never been able to articulate.

(-) DOGMATIC — At the end of the day, you were either with her or against her, and she would interact with you accordingly. No one could truly be neutral in Bellatrix’s eyes. Her black and white worldview fed into her narcissistic notion that only she knew best. The only complicated relationships she had were those with her sisters; the differences between them were obvious, but there were striking similarities as well. Beyond them, Bellatrix didn’t allow herself the murkiness of gray areas.

BRIEF BULLET POINT BIO:

NAME – Bellatrix was born in the middle of a thunderstorm, screaming from birth. They named her for a constellation, as the Blacks had always done. They named her for a warrior, and it meant something when the Black family gave their daughter a title like that. Bellatrix was born with turmoil inside her, one that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Her skin would always feel stretched tight, like armor, and the first time her mother dressed her up for fun, make-up making a little girl seem older, she knew that femininity would only ever be war paint for her.

MIRROR – It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be a girl. She had no problem with her body, the budding curves, the slimmer face. It was all the expectations that came along with it. She fought her mother because she didn’t want to wear dresses. She fought her father because she wanted to be involved in the family business, not married off. She fought her sisters because maybe if Andromeda stopped being so difficult, maybe if Narcissa stopped being so perfect, maybe then her parents would turn their attention away and she could finally breathe. She wanted to shriek so loud her mirror would crack, and maybe then the jagged reflection would look more right to her than the dark haired, red lipped princess who stared back.

ACADEMIA – She somehow scored the highest marks in her class but very nearly didn’t graduate from secondary school due to the sheer number of transgressions. Her father’s lethal charm, both carrot and stick at once, ensured her graduation and there was something in his eye that told her he was proud of her. On the cusp of adulthood, she finally managed to prove to her father that her mind, her hands were worth far more at House of Black than as a negotiating piece. Bellatrix studied the right courses, spent her summers interning at the fashion house, and graduated from the Slytherin School of Social Science poised to take over.

CAREER – The moment she was initiated into the Death Eaters, the clawing, hungry thing inside her settled. Or rather, it was appeased with the promise of danger, with the deadly games and trades, with the scent of blood. Executive Director of House of Black itched less when it was meant to be a cover and not her reality. She did her job well, better even, once she had an outlet for the tendencies that made her blood simmer beneath her skin until she burned from the inside. For that had always been the struggle of a starry warrior – Bellatrix was fearless and bright, but she was at her best in battle.

OPINION – While Bellatrix appreciated the privileges associated with The Sacred 28, the gendered aspects of the culture grated on her. Being raised in that culture allowed her to slip in, seemingly one of them, but her family always knew better. Only the youngest Black had thrived in those spaces. She preferred The Death Eaters mostly because it was the first place she had been able to be her complete self. For the first time, she hadn’t had to shave off the distasteful pieces of herself to be seen as appropriate. The Death Eaters had provided her a true sanctuary, and Bellatrix would be damned before she let some upstart activists ruin that.

INTERVIEW:

i. How do you feel about your current occupation?

— Bellatrix didn’t bother smiling; she hadn’t been pleased about the interview in the first place. In fact, she distinctly remembered telling her youngest sister that as Marketing Director, Bellatrix expected Cissy to head off any and all journalists. She didn’t have the time or, quite frankly, the temperament. “I enjoy my work, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, dark eyes still focused on the contract she was reviewing. “It’s a very high energy environment, which suits me particularly well. And—“ her gaze flicked towards the interviewer, and the thin veneer of a post wave feminist boss slid over her skin “— I think it’s really important for me to be seen in this position. It’s rather odd that the fashion industry is catered towards women and yet most executives, and even designers, in the top fashion houses are…men.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “There’s legacy and family here, yes, but House of Black continues to be trendsetting in more ways than fashion, and for that simple reason I could never consider a position anywhere else. I love this company and my job.” She smiled then, more bared teeth than grin — she’d never been able to truly hide the predator in her — and the unspoken for now became clear.

ii. What song would you say describes yourself?

— Bellatrix tilted her head in consideration. Lips curving into a smile that was relatively softer, more knife edge than blatant fangs, she turned back to her computer. Neatly manicured nails (she never bothered with fancy colors sticking to nude or black) tapped her keyboard with ease and accuracy. A click, and a thrumming beat began to fill the office followed by a rich female voice. We wear red so they don’t see us bleed… “Trouble by Valerie Broussard.” She didn’t offer any further explanation.

iii. Does reputation matter to you?

— She leaned back, chair tilting and arms folded across her torso. There was a quickness to her movements, something a little faster, slicker than Narcissa’s stunning grace or Andromeda’s serene gentleness. “Of course it matters, how could it not – businesses are built on reputations; but deals only come through when you have the knowledge, the skill, the competence to back your reputation.” She observes the interviewer for a moment. “I know I match up to my reputation.” Her quick up-and-down gaze seals her assessment and the interviewer can sense her judgement easily; they don’t even have a reputation, none that she’s heard of, so she doubted they had the competency either.

iv. What is your relationship with your parents like?

— It was the first time in the interview that Bellatrix was caught off guard. Everything in her felt jagged for a moment – being off-tilt was uncomfortable for a woman who prided herself on her preparation. But she was a Black. So Bellatrix straightened her spine, shoulders back, chin up, dark eyes even. “I suspect you’re asking due to the nepotism here.” She didn’t mince words, or care to lie. “Family always comes first; that’s how I was raised. My relationship with my parents is complicated and definitely improved once it became a more adult relationship, like anyone else. But I also know, that they will always have my back, and I will always have theirs.” A more honest answer would have been too nuanced for her to articulate to someone who knew her well, let alone an absolute stranger. Her family had been both cage and sanctuary, and her parents had always held the keys to the lock.

v. What languages can you speak?

— Unlike Andromeda, who only spoke a few languages because she didn’t study them further, unlike Narcissa, who pretended she only knew a couple, Bellatrix boasted her five languages with an arched brow and a smug tilt of her chin. “French, Italian, Russian, Japanese,” she listed, each word emphasized with another pointed finger. She added her thumb and gave a cheeky wave. “And of course, English.” There were a few more she could fumble her way through, strictly for business needs, but Bellatrix wasn’t the sort of woman to advertise in which ways she was mediocre. She was the best because to her, there was no other way to be.

vi. If your home was on fire and you could only save one item, what would you choose?

— The question felt rather silly to Bellatrix. She didn’t feel attachment to items, her loyalty was to her family. And even then, the material objects that mattered to her most was almost always kept close to her. “My work bag,” she answered with an artless shrug, angled to gesture the sleek black leather bag. “I keep my laptop, wallet and phone in it – in this digital age, my most valued possessions are all kept safe in cloud storage.” Besides, family heirlooms were more her sisters’ realm.

vii. Which Hogwarts University faculty did you study at? The Gryffindor School of Applied Science, the Ravenclaw School of Humanities, the Slytherin School of Social Science, or the Hufflepuff School of Art?

– Her patience was beginning to thin, each inane question causing her jaw to set. “I believe this is information you can find with a quick search,” her voice was dangerously saccharine, and the nervous stutter she received in response pleased her. “This time, I’ll save you the work.” Don’t let there be a next time, she said, not through words, but through the hardness of her gaze, the line of her neck the slope of her nose. “I completed an accelerated course of study to graduate with both my undergrad and master’s in International Commerce. From Slytherin.” What a quick search wouldn’t tell the interviewer was that in those five years, she very nearly also completed an Industrial Operations Engineering degree from Gryffindor. She’d liked applied sciences well enough, but not enough to fight her father on it.

vix. What is your social media username?

— “Another thing you can easily search, so this time I’ll let you handle it,” Bellatrix responded dismissively. “If you have any other questions, please email my assistant. Had I known what a waste of time this would be, I would have had you do that in the first place.” Her voice was cool and matter-of-fact, and before the interviewer had even stood, Bellatrix had turned back to her work. Fortunately for the interviewer, her username was easily found on her business card;@BellatrixBlack printed in neat font above icons for Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. It was clear upon further research that Bellatrix didn’t run her social media – they were highly curated business accounts. And no amount of research would reveal her extremely private personal tag that she only used for Snapchat & FlooNet: @bellatrixie.

[shortnerdytransguy]

Okay, so, I've known i was a guy for close to 3 years now. I was confused my whole life because i never felt like a girl. My mother used to try getting me into cute little dresses and playing with dolls and stuff like that, but i never really liked that stuff. I never felt like i was a girl. I was always uncomfortable in my own skin because it didnt feel like me. I always felt like i wasnt being who i wanted to be. I felt trapped in a way. Over the years, i started realizing that i wasnt a girl at all. No way. I didnt like doing the normal stuff that girls do and didnt like wearing what girls wear and i just didnt feel right having the parts i did.

At the nice, bright age of 13, i found some stuff on the internet about transgender people. I started reading into it and looking it up more. All the things that they descibed was what i was feeling. I always felt like i was aloneb that i was the only one. I was relieved to find out that other people were like me. Other people had the same thoughts as me.

Over the next 2 years or so, i began accepting myself more as a man that a woman. I learned that what i was feeling was okay. I learned not to be scared of it. Ive dealt with many emotions over my body. Self hatred, anger, disgust, everything that i really could feel about it. I hated having boobs, i hated my feminine figure, i hated just having girly parts in general. I hated being who i was. I never felt like me. I never felt like i was a man. I knew in my mind who i was, but i couldnt show that to anyone. I had to keep a secret for many years.

When i was going through this stage, i felt alone. I had no one to talk to about it. I couldnt tell my parents, i couldnt tell my friends, i couldnt tell anyone. I knew that me being a transgender man was okay, but i grew fearful of people's reactions. At the time, i had a very small knit group of friends. A few of them are bisexual and my one friend at the time was non binary. I looked up to these friends of mine. They were my insperation to eventually come out as transgender. But during that time, my depression ended up getting worse. My grandpa had been suffering with cancer for about 3 years and it had started growing worse. The treatments werent working like they used to and he ended up getting worse. The cancer spread into his spine and started moving towards his brain. It was Christmas day, and as per usual, we went to my grams house for Christmas dinner. It was the first time i saw my grandpa since thanksgiving. What i saw really broke me. He didnt look like the big, stong man that i used to know. He was weak and frail. He didnt even recognize me anymore. A few days later on New Years day, he passed away. After that, the depression got to the worst that it possibly could and i didnt know what to do. The pressure of coming out and the freif i felt of loosing my best friend who i called my pap was too much. I wanted to end it all. I thank god for the friends that i have every day because they helped me through it. They gave me a reason to keep going.

I talked to my best friend at the time and and told them i was trans. They accepted me and loved me for me. They asked if i wanted to be called by my birth name or if i had a more 'manly' one that i wanted them to start using. That was the day that i got my name. Ever since then, I've been called Aiden by my friends. It took them a while to correct themselves, but they tried for me. They were all so accepting and loving about it.

After that, i had started growing feelings for my non binary friend at the time. They were so caring and amazing and had the absolute best personality. I felt that i could (and still can) trust them with anything and everything. Their birthday came around and i felt that it was the right time to ask them out. They knew about me being trans and they accepted and still loved me for me. I asked them out and from that day forth, i have been proud to call them my partner.

During the time we were together, we experienced alot. We had many ups and downs and even took a break from our relationship because of some issues that i had at the time. Even though we separated, we were still friends and talked every day. We got back together and i couldnt have been happier.

I still had body issue problems and they knew that. I never felt truly comfortable with myself. I was always self conscious going out in public wearing guy clothes like i wanted. I have an average sized chest and sports bras dont hide anything. People always misgender me and i just felt completely uncomfortable with it. I hated going out in public for that very reason. If they got my gender right, my mother would correct them and say daughter. I always wanted to speak up but it never felt like the right time. I eventually did and her reaction wasnt the best. She didnt understand why i would want that for myself. She said that she gave birth to a girl, so thats what i am. Just because i see myself as a guy, doesnt mean she will. That broke me. I always wanted my mother to accept me for me, but it doesnt look like she ever will.

My partner was there to comfort me when my mother told me that. I was very grateful that they were there by my side. They helped me through it. I love them half to death and am so grateful that they are in my life.

Even though my parents arent accepting of me, my friends are. My friends have always been more of a family than my own blood family.

Today, my partner an i celebrated their birthday with their family. It was an amazing time and we enjoyed ourselves. We went upstairs and i gave them the present that i made. They turned to me and handed me 2 things. They got me binders. For the first time in my life, i felt like me. I felt comfortable in my own skin. I may still have the parts, but its so amazing that they did this for me. I feel like the man that i really am. I feel happy and confident now. With the binder, i have a flat chest. I come off as a guy. I couldnt be happier. No words can truly express just how this makes me feel. All i can say is thankyou to everyone who has helped me get to this point in my life. My amazing partner who continues to love me and accept me for me. My amazing friends who have accepted me from day one. Everyone i consider my family, i am so thankful for. They are the reason im still alive, that im going through all of this, that i now feel comfortable im my own body. It took a long time for me to get here, hell, it probably would have taken longer if it wasnt for my partner, but i now feel like me. I feel like Aiden. I look how i want to be. I feel like i want to. I am who i want to be. Thankyou to everyone who has supported me throughout the years and helped me in my darkest hours and days. No words can express how grateful i am for them.

Things definitely arent over with this process, but im glad to have the people that i do supporting me and loving me for me.

[minervacasterly]

Henry VII: The Red Dragon’s Unlikely Triumph

Henry's victory to success is simply amazing due to how far down he was in the line of succession -if he was at all! Of all the Tudors, and don't get me wrong I love them all! He had the most adventurous life! His life is the stuff of movies and you'll see why. Henry was born to Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond and Margaret Beaufort, heiress of Lancaster in Philippa Gregory's words. But she was far removed from the line of succession! The Beauforts derived their name from a castle John of Gaunt had in his possession in English occupied French territory. John of Gaunt married three times, the last to his mistress Katherine Swybford. When they married their children were already grown up but by no means less ambitious. In an effort to ingratiate himself with the shifty king Richard II, John betrayed many of his comrades and persecuted anyone who stood against the king, his nephew. In return for his good services, Richard II legitimized all the Beauforts but that's it. No say if they were inthe succession or not. Later after John died, his firstborn, Henry Bolingbroke ascended to the throne after he deposed Richard. He didn't overturn Richard's legislation but added a new restriction: The Beauforts were legitimate in the eyes of the law of men but due to their revious bastard status they were excluded from the line of succession. So bye-bye ambitions. By the time Henry IV's grandson had issue, this changed altogether. Their descendants were still seen as progeny of a bastard branch (albeit legitimized) of the House of Lancaster but their status had changed overnight as support build around the Duke of York and his Neville relations (who also descended from the Beaufort line, but through the female line). Henry VI betrothed his young relation, Margaret Beaufort to his half brother Edmund Tudor. He was thirteen years her senior and while it was common for women to be married at a young age, people still found it disturbing because the groom didn't wait for her to grow up. As soon as she was 12, he married her and the next year she was pregnant. Edmund and his brother Jasper had supported the Duke of York on various occasions but when the conflict escalated to war, the Tudor brothers sided with their kin. Edmund was captured during battle in late 1456 and died in attenpts to escape, possibly of sickness. Margaret , thirteen at a time, was already a young widow and expectant mother. She feared for her safety and the safety of her unborn child so she started a dangerous sojourn to Wales, to Pembroke castle where her brother in law resided. There, she gave birth to her only child, a boy she named Henry. Henry did not have a lonely childhood like some Ricardians and fiction writerss love to depict, nor was his mother a crazy fanatic. She was the same as the rest of the women. Religion was not separate, it was part of women's lives, especially the adoration of female saints and the virgin Mary from whom women kept relics and images to pray to so they could be safely delivered or to protect their young. Of this latter cult, Henry became a firm follower, worshipping the image of the blessed mother with the same fervor as his mother. Likely, the little boy had childhood companions like David Owen, the illegitimate son of his grandfather by an unknown mistress. In spite of her second marriage, Margaret was allowed to visit her little boy and spend hours teaching him, but then her fortunes changed when Edward Earl of March forced the Lancastrians to flee and was declared king by popular acclaim in March 4 1461. Margaret and her new husband now had to curry favor with the new regime and to prove their loyalty, they had to let her son go. Edward saw Henry Tudor as a potential threat and to neutralize this threat he gave his custody to a loyal Yorkist, William Herbert and his wife Anne. They raised Henry as if he was one of their own, and he had the company of the new Earl's other wards. But Henry knew that a prison made of gold was still a prison. One mistake from his mother, his guadians or worse, his runaway uncle and he would be dealt with. After the Lancastrian Readeption which only lasted a year, Jasper Tudor was forced to flee yet again. This time he took his nephew with him. The deaths of every Lancaster made Henry a potential threat. Every male Beaufort was also gone. Margaret had to let him go once more, this time she would not see him for another fourteen years. Bad weather brought them to the court of Francis II, Duke of Brittany. There he continued his education, by the time of Richard III's accession, he enjoyed the company of many English exiles, among them the formidable and staunch Lancastrian loyalist -Earl of Oxford. It was in Brittanny, that December of 1483 after it was clear that the princes were gone for good, that he made a promise to marry Elizabeth of York and become King of England, thus uniting both bloodlines, the Houses of York and Lancaster into one. The next year and a half he spent his time planning, borrowing money and now in the court of France, currying favor with the French king. He had tried to invade England but failed. What made Henry think, the French king and others told him, he could succeed? But they didn't know Henry. He was by now an educated, cosmopolitan young man who was also confident that god was on his side. On July 29 1485, Richard III gave the seal to Barrow, one of his officials to carry out his orders in the counties nearby and prepare for war. To be fair, Richard III was the most experienced soldier here. He had known the horrors of war since he was very little and his life parallels Henry's but unlike the latter he had been participant in many military campaigns and had the entire North at his disposal. Henry had mercenaries, disatisfied English exiles, Edwardian Yorkists and most of Wales with him, but that was not enough to beat Richard's armies. On August 7, Henry's ships docked on Milford Haven. According to Fabyan when he disembarked he knelt and thanked god, reciting the Psalm 43: 'Judica me deus & discern causam mean'. -Judge me, Oh god, and distinguish my cause. The following days he spent recruiting, some of Richard's most staunch supporters defected to Henry, others refused to fight and just stood by as the two armies clashed on August 22. Others like his stepfather, chose to intervene in his favor only when the tide turned against him. After William Brandon, his standard bearer was struck down, Stanley and his brother with his armies charged down, and with their combined forced Richard's was cut down. Richard, according to various sources screamed 'traitors' and refused to go, instead seeking to confront Henry, but he never got to. The enemy got to him and he was forced down from his horse and minutes later, killed. It was a glorious day for Henry Tudor, now Henry VII. He had won against all odds, but the war was from over. Henry would face many pretenders and plots against him, his mother knew and she cried tears of fear, likely anticipating all her son would have to endure. He died in 1509 after twenty four years of reign.

[some-bitch-named-destyni]

his name....is not finn.

at like 2:40 a.m. i meet a guy on grindr. this guy hits on me in the typically angry and abrasive fashion i have designed my profile to solicit from men of a certain variety, and so we get to talking then wind up on camera, me expecting the same shit as usual....in between midnight meeting with strange men in unknown and unsafe places, i get my need to self destruct and overcome the mind numbing boredom of sociopathic lack of fear satisfied by getting even more men off over the internet on camera... and then, last night happened.

his name, is not finn.

its robert. but he gies by finn. finn has four les pauls, recording machines...the works an entire worling fucking studio. lives in middle tennesse but has been to atlanta many times bc HE ACTUALLY PLAYS MUSIC MIDTOWN EVERY YEAR SINCE 2013 im watching the shit behind him on camera, the house hes in, the guitars on the walls, the records hanging around the cords and amps and pedals... and hes alone. he lives alone, its his place. FINN IS 23. thats all. 23. he got into it all, along with a little band that came from Knoxville tennessee in 2009 named 10 Years...who if u follow rock, u have to know. this is a massivelt succsesfull mainstream alternative rock act. one of my favorite bands.

so here we are.

its five a.m. were still talking, not fucking.

about music and art and finns ideas on sexuality not being real.

odd for someone whos telling me they wanna grudge fuck me bc i have extintential philosophers words tattoos up my arm, and then jump from a well worded rape fanatasy back to intellectual artistic expresssionary approach debate and metjod, use, deploymwnt methods and how they more prolifically provide correct walls of sound they assail the sensations of emotions in pattern sufficient to stimulate a response.

and were talking, then its almost six.

finn has to leave for "work" soon.

hes recording one of the three bands he plays in this a.m.

here i am, on cam talking like were actually getting to know, and enjoy knowing who each other are, with this man

a sound engineer for 10 Years touring company.

Actually. what the actual fuck is happening right now.

he looks like youd expect, having seen these guys on t.v and all, hes tall...6'1 not super tall but taller.

hes stocky and has bushy curly short hair and a clean face, complete with black shirts, wrist bands, leather vest/whatever material that is... the typical rock guy look. and youngish. p young looking yeah.

and i could see it all his house was fucking unreal the shit in that house, the music, drum sets . bass processors, computers studio monitors mic stands... and just i forgot about itnall speaking to him for three and a half hours bc he thinks so fucking different from anyone ive met before him. completely challanges every basic assumption of society that he can.

but then has the self discipline to make this all happen by his age. has the real world common sence, the extraverted thinking to handle the nessesary tedium that makes it possible for this creative energy to become something, and be used and marketed and produce a way to live for himself.

he confounds me sideways. these two opposite people, one part myself, one part my opposite???

i almost tell myself he wants it worse then i do, but thats not it, it cant be it. id die for it.

i would do anything. id give anything, go anywhere, crawl to china. id lose anything, live anything, repeat this entire awful miserable unbearable horrific life ive had three times for it.

id do anything anything id go to the ends of the earth id forsake anyone, id suffer any loss to get just a moment of chance

a moment a single opportunity is all id need and i would light a fucking fire so large it would blind everyone involved.

so yeah i want this sound in my head out, and onto an album just as bad as him or anyone so its not that he wants it worse.

so what then? why is this kid able to be me, and then some...and also not be me enough to actually be living the life he is already?

is it bc its not real? is that it? make me feel better. tell me that i am valid since im tragic enough to

have this incredible talent and yet at the same time have it come from something inside so FUCKED that having it means never being known, never heard, never shine bright like the fact of my creative passion could, and be unlived, then die never having spoken to the world like i should have could have would have

bc im valid so. bc im better. make me feel better. tell me its bc i am REALLY fucked. not pretend fucked for the sake of fashion in rock. not forced or mimiced or copied. and thats what he is right bc if not he wouldnt be well enough to make this happen.

but then, i know its a lie.

i wanna believe it, but i know its a lie. a beautiful, perfect lie. bc i know if i got the part out of the way that cripples me, id still have the rest to write from and create from. and still be capable of what i have been since birth.

so...im lazy? am i lazy? internally, mentally lazy? like or just for aomeone who loves to take pride in their pain, am unable to take the pain of change inside that facilitates the construction of a life like finns... what is it? do i just watch finn now and wait for a secret thats never coming?

I HAVE A DREAM. A NIGHTMARE. ALL MY LIFE I HAVE HAD IT OVER AND OVER. IN IT I AM 70 YEARS OLD , THO ILL NEVER REALLY MAKE IT TO THAT AGE, THE IDEA REMAINS THAT MY LIFE HAS COME AND GONE AND IM GREY AND WRINKLED AND LIEING DOWN AS I GASP FOR BREATH AND THEN I SEE AROUND MY BODY FROM ABOVE

im alone. poor. broke. in beggars clothes. in the gutter, in the filthy city streets, in the cold in winter. im that homeless decay you pass for the smell and then i die there. and thats it. thats what i let happen. i let this go on unti, i ran out of time to change it, and i never did a rhing. never made it, never finally got the shit insode out, never began to burn bright, never started playing live, never recorded, never anything. the thing inside i have that i alone see the magnitude of, and would only have ever really shown to anyone through true sucsess, it never MEANT A F U C K I N G T H I N G A T A L L

now in this mornings call with finn, i begin to see that dream take shape in my reality. soon. its creeping with an slythe above its shoulder just behind me. im here alone like this. deluding myself that this little computer screen is somehow a substitute for a real relationship, delluding myself that i actually am this sad imaginary projection i want to be lercieved as in this fake little digital world. making due with this as if its even happening for real . as of anyone or any idea on this small machine in my lap is life, or love, or me, or actual.

but here where my body is, where i cant take a good picture of me to hide my age, where my personality disorders are, where i am weird and different , where i am an addict, where i am unconventional and do things others wont want near them bcmof the risk i bring to myself, where my body is. my real body .... here there is not a fucking person with or like me. i have some temporary help as i stumble foolishly through my fucked circumstamce from my family, that ofc is going aay everyday, as that nightmare i mentioned begins to take shape. bc they gonna die before me unless i take my death into my oen hands and then that nightmare i have will have shaped fully and begin looking me in the eyes.

so, here i am. 10 a.m.

fuck this guy.

hes sexy, he wants me, and hes my type as in in another life serious boyfriend material . no kids, no phobics, trans or homo, no issues seeing me as who i am, and then also my creative and intellectual counterpart. and hes not very far like a w hour drive. and alllllllll so it makes it feel odd bc he seems like the worst thing for me, that only this situation would develope the addition of feelings have no room for amidst my chaos... i need to be LESS in romance with ppl not fucking MORE... or have someone else establish those feelings for me either just either way..bad idea. and so fuck him

mean it fuck this guy.

fuck this finn, robert whatever and fuck his life

fuck his guitars.

like i needed this shit? i needed to see this? needed to know him? or to have him that, weird weird convo for that long ...the longest ive spoken to someone new in years at once , and not even wind up wanting me for a nut before he got off the vam etc... just fuck this shit.

but not that it seems like that with him, im a combo of not romantic at all, and already emotionally spoken for HARDCORE by aomeone i am trying and fightimg with all i can to stop, STOP being romantically attached to.. so.. no new fucked romance crap for me please. i mention it bc it seems like what happens to me usially, and for no other reason then that.

but as for what i am SURE OF WITH FINN..for tnat... F U C K him

reminding me that im more then shit, reminding me that im throwing away things thousands of people never get to have or would kil, to be able to do like i can. remininding me that im more then this 4 a.m. methamphetamine induced desperate attempt to distract myself from throwing myself away, and relive the pain again, once more, one ,ore gimme one more time always...always need one more sex session where i live out how my father never loved or accepted or appreciated me in my own head again, and keep that defining pain in Clear FUCKING FOCUS FOREVER. KEEP IT HERE. KEEP THAT PAIN HERE. RIGHT IN MY ARMS, CRADLE IT, CLOSE TO MY CHEST, CLOSE TO MY HEART , EMBRACE FEED NURTURE IT GROW IT, LET ITS POISON VINES GROW INTO MY SKIN AND FEED ME FILTH HAPPILY, always one more man, one more moment of disrespect, one more instamce of debasing myself to remind me why i ket myself almost die in a hospital last winter, why ill be sleeping in the cold wind again before spring, and why ill never walk right again or run at all. why im this old and sti,, here, remind me why im trapped by my that talent im so thoughtlessly wasting daily, and...

finn reminds me. fuck him.

he reminds me im doing it , in at least part, by choice.

he takes my excuse away. takes away my escape.

lies, inside lies, inside lies..... finn shows up at 3 a.m. when ur only awake to do things like throw away potential of this magnitude and destroy your human body.

invades my momemt of distraction from the truth of how responsible i really am for this now, and reminds me that

its still out there. the chance i wanted, the opportunity to get the music out and realize that potential ratner then become that 25 year nightmare i have in my future currently...

tne hope, the possibility, the chance to burn finally

burn bright like a star, and shine so hard i can be seen for miles and miles by millions of people

its stil, out there.

fuck finn. i didnt need to remember that.

bc i am what i predict, i am what i know i will do. i am what i will and i dont have that other thing he does. common sense, extraverted thinking, strength to rid myself the demons so i can at least get it going. i dont have it, and im to terrified to let go the crutch ive found that gets me by with the maniac mind i carry and endure. i am not him, and i can not gather the strength to face the world without my crutch so i can then rise to the talent i toss in the trash more each day. i wont even consider it. its all ive got here. its all ive found through all this bullshit life thats made it even half way tolerable. and weather for my own better, weather i be to weak to sacrafice, weather i be to cowardice to dare to even attempt, or be to patnetic to for once FOR ONE TIME TAKE SOME PAIN FOR MY BENEFIT RATHER THEN MY DESTRUCTION.... even if its all true and i am very very responsible for how this hapoens here...

its ok.

bc that just makes me real right? and ive got that. and ill have it now, the rest of the way, to finish the ride,

all of the ride. ill have it. the truth, il. have that i was so cursed and gifted by the same thing that it overcame itself in me

and il. have that genuine authenticity, il. have that close as i finish this ride. the rest of the way.

all of the way.

all the

FuCkINg wAy DOWN

down down down down the only place im gonna go

and il. see finn from underneath, and everyone else who heard of or knew me from below

where i will burn in hell

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

Children of Dust and Ashes

After his memories return, Killian struggles to cope with the realization of everything and everyone he left behind. Comfort comes from an unlikely source. Golden Hook frenemyship 

Notes: Here’s my contirbution to the Season 7 speculation angst train. Credit goes to @this-too-too-sullied-flesh for sending me down this path, and to @lenfaz for further fanning the flames. As noted, there are six billion spoilers and points of speculation for the upcoming season. So, uh, if you want to avoid any of those, avoid this fic! Read on AO3! The rum burns. He’d forgotten that in the thirteen months he had been cursed. He’d forgotten the burn, the taste, his thirst for alcohol while cursed. Rogers had been a teetotaler, refusing anything that would alter his overly righteous state-of-mind. Rogers was a good cop, by the book, respectable. Everything that Killian Jones isn’t, despite sharing a face and body for over a year.

Thirteen months.

His phone sits on the table. He watches it, waiting for it to buzz with a call or text from a faraway area code. It’s well past midnight on the East Coast, and everyone who could call should be asleep. But it’s been thirteen months. He’d read in the early months, sleep cycles would essentially be unreliable.  

(“We’ll both need caffeine IV drips,” Emma had teased him, stealing the book he’d been poring over the the better part of two months.)

He wonders what she’d say now. He wonders everything about his wife and how she’s been the past thirteen months since he made and broke a promise. He wants so badly for his phone to ring, to hear her voice, and to apologize for things both in his control and out of it. But she won’t call – can’t – the lingering magic somehow still serving to blockade the ability to communicate between here and Storybrooke. Killian can’t help but wonder if he had the ability to reach Emma, if she would want to hear his voice. He did, after all, fail her. But a part of him rather foolishly hopes that True Love will prevail and that his phone would alight, signalling that yes, maybe, she can forgive him for missing all of these months, magic and curses be damned.

Regret courses through his veins, far more potent than any spirit he could imbibe. Not that it stops him from drinking. He’s holed up in a far corner of Robi’s – no, Regina’s – bar with the best bottle of rum he could pilfer. He’ll pay her back for it later, not that he’s really sure she cares. She’s her own kind of muddled up, and the earlier sympathetic looks she’s cast his way tells him that she won’t press the issue.

But she’s with her family now: Henry, Jacinda, and Lucy. Together. A family. They’re plotting and planning ways to fully break the curse. They have their memories back, but Hyperion Heights remains a mystery – one they can’t leave. Outsiders can come and go, but not the ones trapped her by Tremaine’s damned curse. Not for the first time in his life, Killian finds himself envying the former Evil Queen. Here she has her son. She can see for herself that he’s alright and be there for him if he needs it. Killian takes another long pull of the rum, hating himself in his resentment. He’s the one who talked her into going home. They’d quarreled over it, whether she should stay and help Henry. He knew then that she’d move heaven and earth for her boy, but he’d also known that she could still barely hold down food, and she was tired, always tired and weak. Emma had relented, eventually, after she’d been hurt in the attack, not enough to cause permanent damage, but enough to scare them both. And it had helped that Henry had been on his side. But as he sits alone in the empty bar, he can’t help but wonder how things would be if she had stayed. Emma had told him once that she had sometimes wished that her parents had not put her in the wardrobe, sending her away. “We would have been cursed, but at least we’d be together,” she had said. He’d reminded her then that if she hadn’t been cursed, then she wouldn’t have met Bae and had Henry, nor would their own relationship have been in the cards. Her words haunt him now. If his wife had come along, then she would have been cursed along with him, but she would have been with him. He’d be able to hold her now. He would know if she was safe. He’d know if–

“I would say that I’m surprised to find you here, but then that would be a lie. You can’t take a pirate from his rum for too long.”

“What do you want, Crocodile?”  Killian raises his gaze to the man who suddenly appeared in the bar. The Dark One is once again dressed in his usual clothing – a fine suit, well pressed, and not a wrinkle in sight. Under better circumstances, Killian would almost have laughed at the overall dishevelled appearance of the Crocodile’s cursed persona, so different than the man Killian had come to know and loathe over the course of three centuries. But things are different now, the curse and shifting of their lives taking a toll on them both. And, well, things had been different between Rogers and Weaver, not like their relationship back home. Gods, how he wishes to go home.

“Back to calling me the Crocodile, are we? Don’t wish to carry on our cursed friendship?” “And you do?” They had been cursed to be partners. Rogers had idolized Weaver, saw the other man both as a mentor or friend. They’d trusted one another, shared stories – all the more proof that his life had been twisted by a dastardly curse. He could never – would never – admire the Crocodile. “Not out of desire, but necessity,” the Dark One replies, “or did you forget, dearie, that we still have covers to uphold while trapped in this wretched place?” Ah, yes, that. They’re not sure if Tremaine and her wicked daughter know their memories have returned. Unwilling to show their hand too early, Regina had proposed carrying on with their cursed identities until they concocted a plan. Starting tomorrow, they would all go back to pretending they didn’t know who they once were. He was to act like nothing had changed, like he was the noble cop trying to do his best, like there wasn’t a family he had left behind.

“And tomorrow we shall once again be partners, but tonight, I’m drinking.” Killian makes a sure of taking a long drink from the bottle, hoping it will encourage Gold to leave and go back to whatever sewer from which he’d crawled. Try as he might, however, Killian still can’t shake the memories of actually enjoying his time spent with Weaver, and the thought of it feels like some twisted betrayal to Milah, forcing him to drink more, to numb himself to remorse slowly driving him insane. To his surprise, however, the Crocodile does not leave as he had wished. Instead, Gold moves to the spot opposite of where Killian is sitting. Killian watches in lazy interest as the Dark One conjures up a glass, and then a bottle of scotch.

“I didn’t ask for a drinking partner.”

“We can’t always get what we want,” Gold replies as he pours himself a glass, “and besides, I believe you and I can be of use to one another.”

“I doubt that.”

“Really?” Gold asks. His tone is challenging. “Because I believe we’re both desperate to get home to Storybrooke, far more desperate than anyone else here.”

Killian wants to argue. He wants few things more than to admit that the Crocodile is right. But it’s those few things that he wants more that drives him to listen. He knows better than the trust the man before him – the real one, the one cursed with darkness by no longer with a fake life. Rogers may have thought highly of him, but Killian knows better. And yet, despite knowing this, he finds himself setting up a little straighter.

“Rarely does the two of us working together end well for me,” Killian says, memories of his heart in the Crocodile’s hand flashing through his mind, of Milah’s own heart being crushed.

“Somehow I doubt that will deter you.”

Killian remembers turning his ship around and allowing Emma and her family to board the ship. He’d let Gold walk the deck of the Jolly, let him stand where Milah had died and where his whole life had fallen apart. He’d made that decision in honor of Bae and because Emma somehow had convinced him that he could be better. In this moment, in this situation right now, he has to be better. If that means once again working with Gold, so be it. It’s not like he hasn’t done so over the past thirteen months. Finally, he replies, “No” and the Crocodile grins.

“Predictable as always.” Killian bristles at the comment, but tries his best to reign in his anger. If he’s going to get home, he will need his help. “So what’s your grand plan?”

“I’m developing one,” Gold replies, and it’s then that Killian realizes that his enemy doesn’t entirely have one. He feels sick at the thought, and to his surprise, the Crocodile mirrors his expression. “In the interim, I’ve put out a call for a quick background check on Belle, Gideon, and Emma.”

“You’re looking up Emma?”

“Consider it a sign of goodwill,” Gold answers, raising his glass. Killian feels a surge of hope, that maybe if he can’t speak to her that maybe the background check will show something. Suddenly, he’s very thankful for their cursed roles as law enforcement and the access it provides. “Finding birth certificates, of course, may be more complicated considering the time period and other matters at hand. I assume you know when your child was meant to be due.”

“July 12th,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s the first time speaking the words aloud since his memory had been unfogged. It’s now mid-February of the following year. Assuming everything went well, his and Emma’s child should be nearing seven months now. He doesn’t know its name, or its date of birth. He doesn’t even know if it is a boy or girl. He feels the burn of tears as he considers these things, but he wills them away. He will not cry in front of the Crocodile. Gold stays quiet opposite of him for a long while. Killian doesn’t look at him, instead staring off to some distant corner of the bar, wondering how his life had taken this turn. Was this centuries of bad deeds finally catching up with him, tormenting him in the worst ways? If so, why couldn’t it just be him that had to suffer? Why must it also be Emma and their child?

Early in their relationship, Emma had shared with him her past regarding Henry and his birth. She had told him how she’d been so alone and afraid, shackled to bed as she made the most difficult decision of her life. When they had first decided to start attempting to conceive, Killian had promised her that this time would be different. This time, she wouldn’t be alone. He would be there every step of the way.

And he failed.

“Yesterday was Gideon’s birthday.”

“What?” The Crocodile’s voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“Yesterday was my son’s birthday,” Gold says. He lifts his glass and gazes as the liquid, turning it ever so slowly. “I was not present at his birth, nor was I there for him yesterday.”

“And?” He will not allow himself to be compared to the Crocodile, the man who chose power over his own son, the one whose wife was so afraid, she begged both Killian and Emma to not allow him near. He’s better than that man. He left to help Henry, his family. But then again, so did the Dark One.  

“And it’s enough to drive a man to drink,” Gold replies, his tone clipped. “It’s a feeling I thought you would know all too well considering I found you here.”

“I’m a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem. I’m always here.” He means for his words to come out sarcastically, but they sound sad and pathetic to his ears. He sounds like did when he was Rogers, unveiling his insecurities to his partner who had been around the block before, who understood. But Gold is not Weaver, and he hates himself even more for this show of weakness.

“That’s not how my son saw you.”

“Your son’s a child.”

“I wasn’t talking about Gideon.”

Killian jerks his head toward Gold. Over the years, though relations between them have somewhat thawed, they rarely ever spoke of the past. It was necessarily, in Killian’s mind, in order to maintain what barely congenial interactions they did have between them. Milah and Bae, and the ways Killian had tormented Belle in the early years were unspoken facts between them. And now, already drowning in the guilt of failing the people he loved, he’s once again reminded of another person he’s wronged.

“I don’t know what Bae thought of me. We might have made some peace in the end, but much of our history wasn’t positive.”

“And yet it’s you who he trusted to save the two people he loved most in the world.” Killian raises an eyebrow in disbelieving interest. Gold continues, “Just who do you think sent the note encouraging you to go after them?”

“I–I didn’t know.”

“He did so knowing that it would likely drive the woman he loved into your arms,” Gold goes on to explain as Killian absorbs the weight of his words. “Do you honestly believe that he would have made such a decision if he believed you to be nothing more than a ‘one-handed pirate with a drinking problem’?”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I can’t have you wallowing in self-pity while the two of us attempt to find out way home,” Gold replies. There’s something in his tone that suggests something more, and Killian wonders if Weaver is shining through. Was it David or Snow that told him that they had been both?

“Says the man who is also wallowing in self-pity right this moment,” he gestures toward the glass in front of Gold. “At any rate, rest assured that level of self-pity will stand between me and my goals. I did spend two centuries trying to hunt you down.”

“To which I remind you that you failed.”

“My priorities shifted. ”

“A fact of which we are all thankful. Even in self-defense I doubt Belle would have forgiven me for killing you. For reasons I still can’t fathom, she’s quite fond of you.” Killian can tell that bothers Gold – that the man who ran away with his first wife is close friends with his second. He almost can’t believe it himself.

“She’d move past it. Belle has a kind heart and is exceedingly forgiving.”

“Too kind and too forgiving, perhaps,” Gold replies. Killian almost thinks it’s a pointed statement toward himself, but then he catches the Crocodile’s eye flick to the hand where his own ring should be. “It truly is her best feature.”

“Aye.” Sometimes, he’s astounded by his friendship with Belle. He’d been so terribly cruel to her in the beginning in his attempts to strip the Dark One of his happy ending. Years later, despite the apologies and mended bridges, it still makes him sick to recall how he’d treated her. He imagines the feeling is tenfold for the Crocodile.

“She wanted you and I to be friends, you know.”

Despite himself, Killian laughs. “Yes, well, proof enough that nobody’s perfect.”

“She’ll be so disappointed to discover that a curse did what she could not.”

“Maybe she will hope some of it sticks, aye?” For a moment, they are Rogers and Weaver again, two partners sharing their dark humor as an escape from the horrors of their chosen career path. It’s both familiar and unnerving. The thought, however, doesn’t stop him from saying, “Can you imagine the faces of everyone in Storybrooke, the two of us returning as bosom buddies? Emma’d haul me off to the cricket to check my sanity.”

“She’ll be more concerned introducing you to your child,” Gold says, sobering the conversation. “He or she will be starting to crawl around now, so you will be kept busy.”

Killian thinks the Crocodile means to be comforting, but the other man’s words feel like a punch in his gut. Years ago, the Dark One had told him that he wished he would suffer. Is this what he had meant? Not only losing Milah, but years later losing his own family. He can recall with distinct clarity the pain Milah had felt at being separated from Bae. He’d empathized then, but gods he didn’t understand. Not like he does now as he wrestles with the “ what-might-have-beens ” and wonders just how much he has missed.

The child he has now, the one at home whose name he doesn’t bloody fucking know is at the age where he or she will be crawling. He doesn’t know their hair color, or the color of their eyes. Does his child have Emma’s coloring or his? What does his or her laugh sound like? What makes them laugh? He’s wondering all of these things, has been since the moment his memories had returned.

“Does it get better?” he asks suddenly, needing assurance, something – anything – to keep him from drowning furthering in his own self-loathing as he careens further and further toward the bottom of the glass bottle. Milah had never found that peace, all thanks to the man sitting across from him. But gods, he can’t think of that, not right now, no matter how much residual guilt he feels. He wishes her were talking to Dave, but David is not the one here. Screwing his eyes shut, Killian pretends that the man opposite is still Weaver, his mentor, his friend.

“Does what?”

“The guilt? The regret? You found Bae again, were able to raise Gideon again. Did you ever forgive yourself for everything you missed?” Will I ever forgive myself for everything I’ve missed?

“No,” Gold replies, providing Killian the answer he knew he would he receive but didn’t want. “The ones you love may forgive you. Your child is young enough to hardly notice your absence. But you never truly will.”

“Ah.”

“But, I’ve also learned over the centuries, that’s fatherhood. You will always wonder if you can do better, be better, all because you want a better life for them than you had.”

Killian thinks of his father, abandoning both he and Liam to the seas for his own pleasure. His father never returned, but Killian vows he would do the same. He will return, sweep Emma and their child into his arms and never leave. Not again. “In order for either of us to do that, we’ll have to get home.”

“Indeed.”

“So where do we begin?”