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blue-jisungs · 6 months ago

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horizon zero dawn

# author's note … sigh. i started writing it in feb 2024 LMAO when me n zanna would play (i mean i would play horizon n zanna would watch) so this is dedicated to her <3 im so so sorry how shitty it gets later, you can see the diff when i came back to finish it ... (fun fact this fic was inspired by that one gif of yeonjun who took off his shoe and kicked beomgyu LMAOOO n we were like... wow that was so sneaky... imagine him attacking like that...)

# summary … you're an outcast, no one can talk to you and no one wants to... except a weird, red-headed guy

# word count … 3432

# genre … horizon zero:dawn au! (wow if u coudlnt tell by the title... axe u r sooo smart) its not really lore based, only the fact that theres dangerous machines of diff kinds and there's a major law of being an outcast but fic explains it :D

# warnings … rushed ending + an open ending so its up to interpretation what yn (you!!) choose! blood, swearing, fighting (yn bites a man lmao), killing an animal (the way i wrote the scene after seeing deers while in a car BYE), flashback in italics

it was his moment of glory.

the machine stood there, a few feet away from him yet close enough to take it down with one, precise hit.

he’ll take it down and bring the parts, gaining respect amongst the villagers.

crouching in the high grass, the gentle wind making the grass-stalk tickle his face. hands gripping the spear, he took a deep breath and slowly released it.

it was his moment… though that’s a shame that no one will see it. maybe he shouldn’t have wandered off so far.

better to hunt it fast and return before it gets dark.

the machine had massive antlers which were the most precious part. other than that he could possibly loot some shards and valuables.

yeonjun jolted forwards, jumping out of his hiding spot. the blue light in the machine’s lenses changed to red in the blink of an eye. the spearhead landed right above the eye, not making a critical damage.

“fuck” he grunted and ripped the spear out, rolled over and sank it again, this time aiming for the fragile part hidden under the belly of the machine.

it made a loud, whining noise and fell lifelessly with a thud, dust swirling in the air.

“ha, suck it” yeonjun hummed happily and kneeled down, rummaging through in search of parts.

that’s one of the reasons why he preferred mechanical animals rather than real ones. no blood, bones and skin… mess in general. just metallic gears, wirings and containers.

he noticed something shiny and dived in, a foxy smile of satisfaction painting on his lips.

yeonjun failed to notice that the noise when the machine fell dead alarmed a nearby predator.

just when he grabbed the heavy metal antlers and stood up, his eyes met with the thin red light of an angry creature.

“oh shit” he grunted and reached for his bow, fingers almost slipping with how sweaty they got.

the cheetah looking beast started running, its slim

legs making its movements faster. before yeonjun could draw a bow and shoot an arrow, the murderous creature was opening its mouth. metallic, silver fangs even from afar reflected his face in them. mere moments before it jumped and yeonjun almost released an arrow, there was a sudden swish. an arrow cut the air faster than the wind blows and it pierced the machine’s eyes from the side. it fell down on its face, moving on the ground due to the momentum. the dead piece of metal landed at yeonjun’s feet and he stared at one of the ends of an arrow poking through the lifeless lens.

“i almost got it!” he grunted and looked up. he saw someone approach him, a bow in their hand. “nice shot”

“i know” a feminine voice reached his ears and he sighed. great, now everyone in the moa village will laugh at him “that was foolish of you to stay in the open space like this”

you approached him quietly, if he didn’t see you – he wouldn’t even know you’re here. your steps were noiseless. upon further examination, he noticed your equipment – it was handmade but fully professional, adorned with blue sewings… similar to those in his tribe.

“where are you from?” you asked, noticing his eyes wandering on your bow. kneeling down to deatach the lenses of the machine. yeonjun watched how swiftly your fingers moved, prying open the material with your nails.

“moa village” he stuttered.

“you shouldn’t be talking to me then” your voice was cold as you hid the broken lens in one of the sacks you carried.

“why? i’m a curious person, i wanna talk. besides, thank you… even though i’m a great archer i guess… my timing was a little off” yeonjun grinned, patting his weapon.

“i’m an outcast” you grunted and heard him mutter a quiet ‘oh’.

the law (at least the law in those lands) forbid people to talk to outcasts. if one broke the law, they would be subject to being outcast as well. it’s a punishment – some people get exiled forever and some for a certain amount of years. it all depends on the crime committed, from stealing to murder. however, some outcasts even after being allowed to return to the village decide not to.

“but… no one is here anyway. and i want to thank you. is there a way i can repay you for saving me?” yeonjun mumbled, scratching his neck.

you looked up at him and your eyes met, his ebony irises glowing with genuine honesty… and a spark of curiosity.

“just go home and don’t get killed” you grunted and stood up, nudging the piece of metal with your foot. yeonjun nodded, a mischievous idea blooming in his head like a snowdrop flower after winter.

“sure, of course. i won’t. farewell, outcast stranger” he smiled like a fox and waved.

you watched him leave. the boy was turning around to glance at you from time to time before his silhouette blended with the landscape.

and so you parted your ways.

crouching down, bow drawn and arm stretched, you aimed at a deer. it was a bit away from its herd so you wanted to use it as an opportunity to attack without startling the rest. you just had to land the arrow perfectly between its eyes, causing an instant and painless death. your mentor always taught you that it’s the least you can do while hunting – a quick and painless death for the animal.

the deer lowered its head to start munching on fresh grass and that’s when you released an arrow. with a whistle of the air being cut, the animal dropped dead.

before you walked up to it, there was a quiet crunch of a branch breaking. you turned around, scanning the area and drawing your bow again. was it a machine? you would’ve heard it before, surely.

another crunch.

this time you were able to locate the source of the sound and moments before releasing the loaded arrow, someone jumped out of the bushes.

“don’t kill me!” he yelped and you froze, not lowering your bow. the nearby deers ran away, scared by the sudden noise. well, besides the dead one at your feet.

“you…” a grunt left your lips, realizing it’s the guy you saved two days ago. his face lit up, stepping closer. but you aimed the bow at his head “don’t. move.”

“ah– why? i’m– i don’t want to hurt you” he whined, a pout forming on his lips.

“then explain yourself. why the fuck you’re here? it’s the complete opposite direction from the way you were headed. you were spying me… but why?” you came to a conclusion, eyes trained on him. the man just giggled nervously.

“i… i know it will sound weird but i was just… curious, yeah… and i didn’t even tell you my name yet!” he reasoned and pointed at the deer “i want to help you. let me carry the deer for you?”

you sighed, putting down your bow and hiding the arrow. standing up, you nodded.

“fine. what’s your name, stranger?” you tilted your head, grabbing the arrow that was stuck in the deer. some crimson blood splashed on the ground.

“yeonjun. choi yeonjun” he said and walked up to the animal. you watched him with a puzzled look on your face “what?”

shaking your head, you smiled.

“do you even know how to–” you started but he leaned and grabbed the dead body.

“i was… taught. nevermind. lead the way, lady outcast” yeonjun hummed happily. so you did, avoiding branches.

“be careful. we’ll eat it later” you grunted, looking at him through your arm.

“we?” he repeated happily

“i’m an outcast, not a weirdo. you’ll have a stew and leave” you sighed and immediately stopped, causing yeonjun to bump into you “shh”

there was… a quiet squeaking sound somewhere in the bushes. you looked at him, cocking an eyebrow, and suddenly he smiled softly.

“that’s a fox” he smiled, catching your confused daze “i… ever since i was a kid, i attracted foxes. weird thing. but ignore it, it’ll eventually leave on its own”

letting out an amused huff you began walking again. yeonjun followed you, catching a glimpse of a copper-colored tail in the bushes.

“so… may i know your name, oh mighty outcast?” he cooed and you fidgeted with a pocket knife that you always carried around.

“at my place. also, if you think about it, it’s highly unreasonable to track a stranger and then follow them to their house, don’t you think?” you said casually, stepping over a rock.

“well, they call me ‘unserious fool’ at the village so i guess i know exactly what i’m doing” yeonjun hummed.

for a moment comfortable silence fell between you two so you took in the spirit of the woods.

autumn was your favorite season. trees turning into beautiful bouquets of yellows, reds, browns and oranges. under the sunlight, some leaves looked golden and filled up your heart with nostalgia. you lived alone so most of the time you spent outside, hunting or gathering herbs. during autumn various animals were preparing for the winter sleep so you even had a chance to admire bears if you wandered far enough. badgers, raccoons or squirrels… you loved to sit down and watch them wander in their natural habitat. not to mention all the precious mushrooms growing after a heavy rain. and during this season, the air was crisp and refreshing, even if it stung your cheeks with coldness. what’s there not to adore?

“i apologize in advance for my cooking” you said suddenly. yeonjun hummed.

“don’t worry. i ate my friend’s food and survived so it will take much to take me down” he grinned proudly.

“i noticed” you snickered, touching a tree that you passed by. its tree bark was rough and coarse but you enjoyed that feeling.

“are we there yet?” yeonjun suddenly asked and you just let out a deep sigh.

arriving at your place took a bit longer than usual… apparently yeonjun was a very slow walker and tripped twice over a stone. but you made it eventually. and the deer - surprisingly - managed to stay in one piece.

you insisted yeonjun sat down as you started preparing a stew from your whatever was nearby. herbs, dried mushrooms, leftover broth, fresh vegetables from your garden…

you felt his gaze on you and heard his calm breathing. it was quite an usual sound, as for someone who lived alone since–

“nice place you’ve got there, outcast” he hummed and when you looked over his shoulder, you saw him admiring your place.

it was rather simple. all the furniture handmade from scratch, bunches of herbs and braids of garlic attached to the walls to dry, bows and tools scattered on the floor. and a rug.

“this rug…” he breathed out, the sound of a chair scratching the floor reaching your ears. the faint sound of his bones cracking signaled that he kneeled down.

yeonjun’s fingers traced the rough material of the beautifully crafted rug. light blues, greens and yellows braided and intertwined together only to blend with a thick white stitching. a spiral of colors leading to three x signs in the middle.

he turned around, eyes widened. he felt a cold metal on his neck, of a nearest weapon you grabbed, your cold gaze meeting him from above. raising his chin, his mouth fell ajar.

“you’re from moa village?” yeonjun breathed out, utterly shocked.

“so what if i am? were you sent to spy on me, yeonjun?” you grunted and he shook his head vigorously as a no.

“no! no, no! i was just… it’s difficult to explain but there was just something pulling me towards you and i couldn’t… i had to figure out what…” he started explaining. his hands roamed on the floor but you only poked the spear at his throat further.

“don’t. move.” you hissed through your clenched teeth.

“i promise i don’t want to hurt you!” yeonjun whined, panicked.

“you wouldn’t even hurt a fly, junjun. i’m not scared ‘bout that” you said slowly, watching his features morph into pure shock. eyes widened, nose flaring, mouth open wide and chest rising up and down quickly “i’m just thinking what to do with you now”

“no one has ever called me that in ten years” he murmured. and then you saw it: a spark of realization in his ebony eyes “y/n…?”

lowering your spear, you saw you might’ve accidentally pressed too hard: a faint trickle of scarlet blood ran down his neck.

but he didn’t care, rising to his feet and… wrapping his arms around you. now it was your turn to be left frozen, not knowing how to react. you haven’t felt the touch of a human in ten years, not to mention how it was to hug.

“it’s you” he stuttered, burying his head in your neck. whereas you choked back tears, he didn’t hold himself back. broken sobs escaped his lips, body shaking in your arms. you slowly, awkwardly even, hugged him back.

being a girl is tough, especially in a village when there’s a majority of men. luckily, you had some friends that weren’t as bad as other boys in the village. beomgyu, soobin, kai, taehyun… and yeonjun. you lost your parents while they were out on a hunt whe you were 8 and ever since, soobin’s family took care of you. but you loved playing with all of them equally.

when they hit the age of 13, they had to prepare to become an important part of the tribe one day. their trainings began, slowly losing time to hang out with you.

but yeonjun always tried to spend some time with you. sometimes you two would sneak out at night and go on walks, to catch up.

it all took a turn when one day one of the village boys, older than you, started bugging you.

“come on, why are you hanging out with those losers? they are all gonna end up as butchers or blacksmiths, you should stick with me. i’ll be a hunter” he grinned, grabbing your wrist.

“leave me alone, fucker. at least they are normal” you grunted, trying to run away from his hold.

“normal? come on, they’d ditch you the second they had a chance” the boy, kinam, pulled you closer.

“they wouldn’t. don’t even try to talk about them” you shook your head.

“come on, it’s not even like they’re gonna defend themselves because yeonjun is a pussy!”

“he’s not!” you huffed, attempting to wriggle away from his hold. when you noticed trying to run away doesn’t work, you decided to take a swing and punch him. not only to run away but also he deserved it: no one will talk bad about your friends. especially junjun.

his, oh so manly, scream attracted attention. people gathered to see what was happening.

“oh i’ll beat you up” he hissed, coming at you.

yeonjun heard yells and frowned upon realizing there’s a feminine voice. running to see what’s happening, pushing through the crowd… he saw you, covered in blood. but so was kinam, in who you were currently sinking your teeth.

“y/n, stop, you’ll–” yeonjun called and ran to grab you, separating from the other boy. kinam started attacking him but yeonjun’s hold around you only tightened. curling your back, he took the hits.

“enough! what is happening here?” an elderly voice spoke up. it was kinam’s father, the tribe leader.

“she started punching me, i only acted in self defense!” kinam shouted. you just shook your head, tears running down your cheeks.

“that’s not true… i just wanted to escape and he wouldn’t let go…” you whispered. yeonjun lulled you softly.

“i know, don’t worry. it’ll be okay” he hummed; however, there were dark thoughts in his head. violence in the village wasn’t accepted. and this was the leader’s son, after all.

“you attacked my son?” his father asked, the bass of his voice booming in your ears. shaking your head as a no, the realization began to settle in.

you’re in trouble.

“no, it was him who…” you started and slightly tapped yeonjun to move. he helped you stand up and grabbed your hand.

“you did attack my son. there are witnesses” the leader said, eyeing you up and down. soobin and his parents arrived, fear in their eyes.

“no, it was-!”

“kinam would never attack a lady. we saw and heard when you hit him first” an older lady standing by cut in. you began shaking your head as no, managing eye contact with mrs choi. she knew.

“you will be punished” was all what the leader said and turned around, grabbing his son’s wrist. before walking away, kinam sent you a victorious smirk.

the crowd disappeared and you clutched onto yeonjun, unable to control your sobs.

“i attacked him but only because he was saying shit about you… and he wouldn’t let go of me” you cried, panicking. yeonjun saw soobin’s family approaching “i don’t wanna be exiled, junjun, please…”

but life - nor law - isn’t always fair. this was the last time you hugged yeonjun, being sent into to wild to lead the life of an outcast. no one was permitted to talk to you and you weren’t able to say goodbye to your guardian parents, friends.

with tears in your eyes and just a bunch of your stuff in your arms, you saw them for the last time. beomgyu and taehyun had to hold yeonjun back from running after you as the village guards closed the gate.

your exile was meant to last 15 years.

so as a 14 year olds you thought you'd never see each other again. especially that you didn’t have any knowledge of how to survive in the wild.

but here you are, reunited.

yeonjun leaned away, his eyes puffy.

“how… i… holy shit” he breathed out, his lower lip quivering. you smiled softly and wiped his wet cheeks.

“i managed. i’ve stumbled across some people, they were travelers and didn’t mind helping me. i’ve learned how to hunt, gather… it was okay. hey, don’t cry” a gentle scoff left your lips upon seeing his eyes tear up again.

“you were just a girl… i’m so sorry” he croaked out, shaking his head. then, he managed to smile “you recognized me right away, didn’t you? why didn’t you tell me?”

“when you said you’re from our village. i didn’t want to say because i knew you wouldn’t want to come back. i didn’t want you to live in pain that i’m in” you hummed and brushed his hair away

“we were sure you are alive. no one doubted you– holy shit” he gasped, eyes twinkling.

“what?” you frowned. yeonjun ran his fingers through his hair nervously but a huge smile painting on his lips gave him away.

“kinam is the leader now, his father passed away. it was like two years ago and he admitted he angered you on purpose. he, um, felt really bad and said that it haunts him everyday. he wished he could tell you that you are safe to come back” yeonjun breathed out and you blinked, sitting down on you bed.

he did the same, grabbing your hand.

“that’s why i became a hunter. the day you were outcasted, i changed my training. i suck at it, yeah, but that was the only way to leave the village. and i can’t believe i found you” the man grinned, admiring your changed features. changed but still beautiful.

you observed his eyes widen.

“come back to the village. or let me live with you! i- i can’t live without you now that i know you’re here and, and-” yeonjun mumbled, falling to his knees and burying his face in the fabric of your shirt. you ran your fingers through his soft locks and smiled gently.

“junjun, stand up” your voice was quiet but he obliged in a blink of an eye, taking in a sharp breath “i missed you so much”

and with that, you captured his lips in a long kiss. it was full of never spoken confessions, ever-lasting feelings and love. pure love that only parted lovers could share.

with that, his soft lips on yours; you made up your mind where you will continue your life. whether it was in your faraway safe place or back in the hometown you haven’t stepped foot in years, you knew everything will be perfectly fine because now you have yeonjun by your side.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @mirxzii ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura

@nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @ocean-minho ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @nonononranghaee

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ravencincaide · 1 year ago

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Surprise, You son of a-

Summary: You acquired a stalker. A man who harmed those around you, but never touched or approached you. The plan was for you to play bait, lure him and mace him. Then Dazai would take care of the rest. Unfortunately there was just one thing you did not calculate with…

Pairing: Dazai x fem!reader (x dark/ Yandere Chuuya)

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 7: Sharing clothes

Warnings: Cursing, abduction and drugs, stalking, mention of sexual content including hint/mention of non-con, voyeurism and questionable consent. Insanity- if you really try. It’s dark, okay?

Enjoy?

_____________________________________________________________

“ I think you’re right, this might actually work!” You exclaimed excitedly as you stared at yourself in the mirror; you were dressed in a pair of light pants and a white shirt. Over it, you borrowed your boyfriend's vest- a dark thing that was just a tad too long coming down to your midthigh. And over it his beige coat, which too was oversized, the sleeves coming past your fingertips and the coat itself stopped mere inches above the ground. Though you didn’t necessarily think it a bad thing, the less of your body that was visible the better. You had gathered your hair up into braids which you then shifted around your head, hiding them beneath the wig cap and the dark brown wig which almost matched Dazai’s shade.

The rest was just bandages and make up.

You both noticed that you were not a perfect replica of Dazai; too feminine even with all the binding, wrong hair lengths and colour, wrong height and paler complexion, but you both reasoned that no one would be looking too closely. At least not the one this disguise was intended for.

“ See Y/N, I told you it wouldn’t be an issue to get you to look exactly like a lady kill-aouch” Dazai hollered in pain as you pinched him, sending him a warning glare not to re-attempt to finish that sentence. The grin you got in return made you wonder if the physical pain was actually a punishment to him- or foreplay.

Rather than find out you turned your attention back towards the mirror, your fingers moving to fidgeting with the wig. You were playing ignorant to his advances. This earned you a dramatic sigh, as if you were crushing his heart. “ Ohh Belladonna why must you be so cruel to me, my love? If only you’d fulfill my humble request of–

“ No We’re not turning this into some self-cestious kink-exploration for you.” you cut him off with a warning glare as your hands finally left your wig and grasped the can of mace from your nightstand. You brought it close to yourself, the control-freak part of you wondering if it worked and a rational part of you reminding you that it was best not to find out.

Especially inside.

Sensing your nervousness Dazai came up and rested his hand on top of yours, a moment of seriousness on his face. “ It will go fine Bella” he promised “ I’ll be right behind you. You just need to lure him into an alley and spray the mace. I’ll handle the rest.” Then a quick peck on the lips, which made you smile.

You leaned forward and gave him a slightly deeper kiss salvaging the closeness. Before it could go too far you broke it off and pushed some rogue strands out of his face, staring at him with all the love in your heart. You were so lucky to have him. “ You know If this works and we get rid of this stalking sun of a biscuit quickly we’ll have plenty of time to take a version of this outfit for a ride in bed- what do you think?”

You were met with a Cheshire’s grin, Dazai’s lips on yours while he carefully walked you backwards towards your front door. “ Then let's get this over and done with Belladonna” he purred before he opened the front door and shoved you out before slamming it in your face, in your typical- he’s-annoyed-you-enough-fashion.

You stumbled, caught yourself before you made an act of clingy Dazai; banging on the door, a fake cry of ‘why Belladonna why’ before dancing away to the sound of Dazai laughing through the wood.

You just hoped he didn’t blow it.

The act was about as perfect as your appearance; but you hoped it was enough to fool your stalker. After all this was a man who never got close to you and never approached you- from what you could tell at least. But he did seem to hold a grudge towards anyone who dared visit your apartment. In fact, if he hadn’t hurt one of your childhood friends a few weeks ago you wouldn’t have even noticed his existence. Now however you felt like you were watched wherever you went. Yet no matter how hard you looked you never saw him.

Dazai suggested turning this game of cat-and-mouse around; they’d still think they were the pray and be too blind to notice they were walking right into a trap. The only thing you had to do was pretend to be Dazai and lure him away and disarm him, then your boyfriend who’d follow from a distance, would take care of the rest. You shuddered slightly when you thought over what ‘the rest’ meant. But decided against asking.

Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

As you left your apartment complex you headed down into the half busy streets in a rather relaxed fashion, arms folded above your head, using the sleeves of the coat as a way to keep another part of your face obscured. Your eyes flickered from one person to another; teenagers sharing candy in the corner of the street, a young couple shopping together and a bunch of punks trying to trick an older teen into buying them cigarettes. There were some elderly too enjoying the warm weather, sharing pleasantries and complaining about how things have changed from their youths.

No one looked particularly threatening and you were beginning to think your charades failed. Just when you were about to turn back around you sensed it; that bone chilling feeling of being watched. You resisted the urge to look around or pick up your pace as you turned off the main road and towards a smaller street filled with tiny mom and pop shops- the route Dazai told you to follow. The narrow street drew less attention and had several decent obscured alleys. You kept your pace slow, listening closely. About a minute after you turned into the alley you heard the fast click clack of dress shoes behind you.

Bingo.

You heard the steps grow closer and quickly rounded a corner towards an even smaller alley. One step, then you pressed your back against the wall, mace in hands. Your eyes closed as you focused on silencing your breathing. Seconds ticked in your head as the footsteps grew closer and closer, growing faster, eager to not let you out of sight.

3, 2, 1 .

You jumped out back onto the larger alley. “ Buu you son of a –” you yelled, pressing down on the mace and spraying for a good thirty seconds. It wasn’t until it was too late that you realized who the figure doubling in pain was. But when you did, you dropped your weapon with a bewildered cry.

Clang of the metal echoed against the walls as the mace rolled away out of sight.

“ Chuuya what the? I’m so sorry!” You started taking a step towards him. Then as you felt your eyes burn you quickly moved back again and ran a hand through the wig trying to mask your embarrassment.

“ I-its okay Y/N” he coughed a few times waving his hand in an attempt to get some clean air into his lungs. It took him surprisingly little time to completely recover. The only trace of your little attack being a redness around his eyes and a slightly runny nose which he took care of with a clean handkerchief. Now his attention was on you, his look clearly demanding to know what the hell you were up to.

You just shook your head a no- it was best not to ask. “ I’m so sorry again” you mumbled feeling incredibly stupid. “ Come, let me get you a cup of tea as an apology.”

Chuuya raised his hand as if to say not to worry about it. Then he lowered it and flashed you a smirk; “ Only if we can agree on coffee”

“ Deal!” you exclaimed before taking a look around. Realizing you were still in the alley you turned on your heel and continued heading straight towards the exit.

At the corner there would be this wonderful little shop that sold all sorts of imported coffee and coffee-based treats. It was one of the pricier shops in the area so you deemed that it would be good enough to suit the executives tastes. Chuuya followed you, however rather than walk right beside you he kept a step or two behind you. You glanced up at him, then carefully glanced behind him towards the alley entrance with slight confusion.

You still couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched- the icy cold dread in the pit of your stomach which grew with each step that you took. A warning bell was going off in your head but you couldn’t quite place a finger on why. The notion was ridiculous after all, Chuuya was your friend.

“ What are you doing here, Chuuya?” You asked, making small talk. Suddenly you paused mid step as the sense of dread became overbearing. Dazai should have caught up with you already.

But he didn't. Why?

Did it mean that the stalker saw through your charade? Impossible. You weren’t perfect but you knew the act was good. You and Dazai had practiced for hours and even fooled Atsushi with it when you took it for a test-run. No, the act was good enough. Unless your target knew Dazai very well. Say, like the back of their hand, familiar with every single mannerism of his down to the way he walked, talked and breathed. If that were the case they’d first prevent your boyfriend from helping you and then, “ Say Chuuya, Dazai was your twin dark. You’d have realized I’m not him unless-”

You never got to finish your sentence as a sweet scent filled your senses a second before Chuuya took one larger step closing the distance between you. He clasped a cloth over your nose and mouth. His other hand wrapped around you in an iron grip, keeping you in place and restraining your struggles. You screamed and screamed, trying to bite the cloth away from yourself, your fingers clawing at his hands. But with each scream you inhaled more of the substance. You could feel your body growing weaker on you- betraying you.

It was no use.

“ I’m sorry Y/N, you’re too smart for your own good” Chuuya whispered in your ear as dark dots played in your vision “ You should have just left it alone- you really should have.” That was the last thing you heard as you passed out, praying that Dazai would find you..

Your head was killing you, like a thousand woodpeckers pecking away at your skull. Your body felt heavy, groggy and your limbs refused to cooperate properly. You silently cursed yourself as you tried to pry your eyes open. The mixture of medicines in your body fighting with you, trying to keep you under. What was it? Anastesia? Were you under an operation? No, it was something else, something else and chloroform. You knew chloroform, you’d recognize it anywhere; the sickly sweet smell that made your stomach turn. So why didn’t you recognize it before it was too late?

Because it was Chuuya.

The thought made you angry and with it came a burst of adrenaline: snapping your eyes open, you sat up in one quick motion before you felt your stomach turn. You clutched it, uncertain whether whatever you ate that morning was going to stay inside you or not. The world span, the colors twisting and fleeting into one another making the unfamiliar objects around you almost indistinguishable. One thing you were certain though; this wasn’t a hospital, your room or any kind of mom and pop shop.

You heard a sound, someone rushing to your side and then felt an arm quickly wrap around your shoulders steadying you. A hand was on your back, rubbing up and down “ Shhh shh shh, not so quickly Y/N, you need more rest, you’ll feel better soon I promise.” You tried to focus on the voice as another wave of nausea rolled over you. On instinct you curled more in on yourself trying to make the world stop spinning

“ Wanna throw up Sweetheart or are you good?”

That nickname made you freeze. You shook your head making a weak attempt at pushing him away from yourself. Damn traitor was what you wanted to call him but all that came out was a pitiful “ njah”

You felt something cool press to your lips before he tilted you back slightly. “ Just water. Drink, it will help clear your head.”

The water splashed against your lips, a drop rolling down your chin. You resisted the temptation. You heard Chuuya sigh before he moved. He shifted the glass more, giving it a deeper angle. The glass pressing past your lips, the water now almost slipping down your throat. You had no choice, so you drank, feeling instant relief. The water felt soothing, like a miracle for a dying man and you could feel your stomach settling down. Almost too quickly it finished, yet you were too stubborn to ask him for another. You felt so tired again, to the point you barely noticed as he lowered you back in bed and covered you with a blanket.

You were out cold in seconds.

The next time you woke up, you felt well enough to take in your surroundings. You were in an unfamiliar room, laying on a rather large bed with a metal headboard. You could see cuffs dangling from above your head, one set on either side, yet your arms were free, resting beside you beneath a thin fuzzy blanket. You guessed the room wasn’t very big but didn’t dare turn your head and check. Not yet. You could hear him breathing a few paces away and did not want to risk having to look at that traitorous hypocritical bastard without proper assessment of your state.

When you shifted your legs,you felt the cold metal of the cuff cutting into your right ankle and heard the shift of the metal chain. It was heavy, so much you could say. You doubted you’d be able to break it with sheer force. Your fingers inched towards your pockets, still icy cold and somewhat slow in their movement. As they brushed against your clothes you realized you were still in Dazai’s attire and cursed silently in your head. Then you drew in a deeper breath and closed your eyes, thinking of your next move.

“ Don’t try to use your ability” you heard Chuuya’s voice ring loud and clear a small distance away from you. “ It’s a government chain, you’ll only end up hurting yourself if you try.” You didn’t grace him with a reply. He didn’t seem to mind as he continued speaking” I’m sorry I had to take your gun away. I couldn’t have you do anything stupid”

Before you knew it you were back in a sitting position. “ What the fuck do you mean stupid? And why the hell are you doing this.” You yelled at Chuuya who was sitting on a chair a good distance away from your bed. His legs were crossed, his hands resting on top of them palms up. His usual jacket was not on him; it hung casually across the back of another chair with his hat on top. On that second chair was a tray of food, a flimsy bottle of water and a handful of pills in a small white paper cup.

“ I know it's hard to see it right now, but I’m not here to hurt you Y/N. I’m here to help” He said each word slowly and calmly, clearly hoping to soothe you.

Your face shifted into an expression of bewilderment and anger “ Help me? How does beating up my friend and then abducting me ‘help me’ Chuuya? How?!”

“ Because Y/N you’re so caught up in Dazai’s webb you’ve stopped caring about yourself and your future. You just bow your head to his every beck and call and that’s not you” he stated as he leaned to the side and lifted up the tray moving it closer to you.

“ What are you–” Your sentence got caught in your throat as you took a look, finally took a look at Chuuya. He was older than what you remembered him to be. More worn out perhaps? There wasn’t a hint of a smile on his lips, not even a smirk or a grin. His lips were just set in a straight line, slightly white from how hard he was pressing them together in barely contained anger. But it was his eyes that shook you down to your core; the normally vibrant shimmering blue orbs which put even the sky to shame as they glistered with a wide range of emotion were completely empty. They were a hollow blue grey shade- a shell of their former self. “ Chuuya what did you do?”

Your question put him in a frenzy, the way you looked at him, as if he was the monster was killing whatever sliver of light that was left in him; “ Don’t think I haven’t seen you Y/N, haven’t seen you cry your eyes out when slimy Dick’s not home cuz he’s fucking another woman.” Chuuya’s hollow eyes stared down at you, his lips pulled up into a sadistic sneer “ or when he forces you to take him whenever or whenever, or pressures you to agree to whatever shit his mind comes up and you’re crying both during and after Y/N. Don’t think I haven’t seen you. Ugly sobbing and all. It’s not right Sweetheart. It isn’t”

You gaped: your mouth opening and closing like a fish, your cheeks dusting a light pink, words stuck in your throat. They were refusing to come out. You didn’t know where to even begin, or how you were going to reason with him.

Chuuya wasn’t finished, however.

He moved closer, his gloved hand slowly inching towards you. “ But I’d never disrespect you like that sweetheart, never force you or hurt you. I’d never abandon you- you know that the bastard pretty much gave you away to me? ”

“ Dazai would never” you glared darkly at him. As his fingers grazed your cheek you flinched and turned away putting distance between you. The action made Chuuya sigh heavily and move back, running that hand through his hair. He looked bitter.

“ You think? The mackerel served you up to me in his attire with an added comment ‘you can have my left overs.’ slimy bandages. And you still think he cares for you?” He was shaking as he stared down at you. Chuuya took a deep breath before his voice took on a sad, heartbroken tone.” While I’ve always been here, waiting and waiting ready to sweep you off your feet and yet you’re eyes were only on him”

“ Dazai isn’t- he wouldn’t.”

“ Dazai this, Dazai that. Even now when we both know he’s already balls deep in another woman! And you’re still relying on him hah-!” Chuuya shook his head before something seemed to change in him, the contained anger spilling into something dark and full of malice- “- You think I’m smaller than him, is that it?! That somehow that womanizing bastard is better in bed? That only he can satisfy you ehh? Is that why?” Chuuya yelled, his hands landing away from his hair, dangerously close to his belt.

At that moment, for the first time that night, you realized that you were in danger. Real actual danger. This wasn't Chuuya, the sweet hot-tempered ginger man whom you’d share stories and dirty jokes with over a glass of wine. This was a man with slipping sanity capable of anything. His eyes alone were an atonement to that. Those hollow blue orbs told you that if you didn’t think fast enough you’d learn on your own skin- your own pussy- how far he was willing to go to have you.

You moved, launching forward as far as the chain would let you and pressed both hands on top of his larger ones, trying to get him to leave his belt alone. “ No not at all, I must be still a bit hazy after the drug. I didn't mean to upset you.”

He didn’t react, his fingers finishing pulling the edge of the belt out of the first loop and starting to fiddle with the clasp.

You tightened your hold on his arm. Your heart beating loudly in your ears. You thought you were going to throw up. Maybe you should- maybe it would disgust him enough to make him stop. No, a little voice in your head told you. All that could do was enrage him more. And that would end up making it worse on yourself.

“ I’m definitely still not clear in the head, so lets talk some more later please Chuuya, please stop” You called to him, leaning more of your weight onto him. That didn’t stop him, if anything it made you more aware of the growing tension in his pants.

Fuck.

You needed a plan- a way out and you needed it now. However each plea and logical call fell on deaf ears and you were in no condition to fight him. Ability or not he’d overpower you in seconds. You were running out of options and this was your last card to keep yourself safe;

You forced your mind to think of each embarrassing and humiliating memory until your cheeks glowed a dark red. Then you tilted your head down, faking a shy appearance.“ but you wouldn’t want our first time together like this, right? All dry and then bloody. And me passing out and missing out on the fun mid-way through, right?” You felt his movements grow less erratic and continued; “ So would you let me rest a few hours more, clear my head a bit, please? Please Chuu'' you pleaded

You glanced up at him, staring up with big pleading eyes. You saw the newly made nickname stir something in those hollow orbs. Like a spark of life glimpsing through insanity.

“ Please Chuu” you pleaded again, continuing to stare at him, praying that this was enough. A moment passed, two, three before he let his hands drop away from his pants.

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from flinching as he raised a hand and rested it on the back of your head, then he leaned forward pressing a long kiss on your forehead. “ You’re right, I’m sorry, Sweetheart, it was so selfish of me. You need your rest. And I need to get you something comfortable to wear- slimy mackerel clothing really does not suit you.” With those words he turned around as if nothing happened and grabbed the hat and jacket from the back of the chair.

He paused in the doorway long enough to wish you sweet dreams and tell you not to eat what he brought earlier, and that he’ll be back later with some fresh food and water for when you’ve had your rest. Then he left. As the door clasped shut you heard the automatic lock kick in, shutting you in place. Then two more additional ones; a chain and a key.

Slumping back into the bed you curled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms tightly around them. Tears were running down your cheeks in steady unpretty streams.

You bought yourself a few hours tops but what were you supposed to do then?

#chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #dazai x you #dazai x reader #sweetober #chuuya yandere #yandere #obssessive #abduction

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thenightfolknetwork · 1 year ago

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Im a nypmh. A forest nymph specifically. My days are spent dancing and singing and existing in the forest I was born to. Its great really. My forest is even protected so I dont need to worry about any sapios coming in an bothering me!

But Im also trans. Im a guy. But nymphs are supposed to be feminine and Im. Not. Ive already felt myself loosing connection with this forest as I begun transitioning. Im scared that if I fully transition, Ill lose it entirely. Can that happen? Or is the forest just disappointed in me?

Should I stop my transition? Ive tried to communicate with the forest but she wont respond to me when I bring it up. Im just not sure what to do

I'm sorry your forest seems to be struggling with your transition, reader. However, I think there is plenty of reason to stay optimistic here. You know as well as anyone that, if a powerful nature spirit really doesn't want you around, you'd know about it. The fact you still have a connection with her means she still wants you to have a connection with her.

You're correct in saying that nymphs tend to be female, but my understanding is that this is a linguistic matter rather than a biological one. The word we use for females of your genus is “nymph”, while males with similar cultural identities tend to be referred to as “satyrs”.

Your feeling of disconnect are very likely more related to how you perceive yourself rather than how the forest is perceiving you. The fact is, you cannot simultaneously think of nymphs as inherently feminine, and of yourself as a nymph, while also respecting and celebrating your own masculine identity.

Your forest can feel that inner conflict. She can see you're no longer comfortable with your identity as a nymph, but doesn't have the tools to help you through that discomfort. All she can do is try to give you space, loosening her hold on you and allowing you the freedom to make your own choices.

So, what are those choices, exactly? For one thing, I certainly don't think stopping your transition is a good idea. Your gender is not defined by your body, and a lack of medical transition won't make you any less male.

It also won't solve the underlying issue – that you, as a man, do not feel able to identify as a nymph. In fact, I suspect it will serve to disconnect you even more from your body and your forest, with the pain of dysphoria acting as a constant reminder of the authentic, masculine self you're trying to hide.

Instead, I recommend either unpacking your gendered assumptions around being a nymph, or embracing a positive, male alternative identity for yourself. Do you feel able to say of yourself, “I am a man and a nymph and these do not contradict each other”? Or would you be more comfortable identifying as a satyr or some other identity that feels more affirming?

There isn't a right answer here. You need to find something that works for you. But you do need to make that decision, and try to heal this conflict inside you.

As you do, I feel certain your connection with your forest will bloom anew – different than it was, perhaps, but also more authentic, connecting not with a mere idea or aspiration, but with the man you truly are.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

#answered #the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies

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monvenusblg · 1 year ago

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A new beauty routine I’ve recently invested in is getting my nails done at a salon.

I haven’t seen a lot of people discuss the esoteric significance of doing your nails more intentionally. Onychomancy is a divination tool that explains how a person’s nails signify energies that one intends to attract more of in their life. Essentially, the shape, health condition of a person’s nails as well as how it’s colored and/or designed carries messages from each person’s psyche and divine source(s). Once i’ve learned of this magick, doing my nails have helped me to become more aware of the energies that i need to embody more and which for me to release.

I thought it’ll be cool to analyze the inspiration behind my new set and discover what it is that i’m trying to manifest with them. ��🤍

This is what my new set looks like !

At first glance it’s pretty apparent that i’m going for a wintery snow vibe overall. Perfect for the colder January - early February days. Aesthetically, i was most inspired by:

clean, crisp, winter days when the branches turn to icicles.

The look of glaciers and ice during sunny mornings which in some shade turns everything white to a gorgeous translucent blue.

The waif-like elegance of figure skaters. Especially, the way a body could be disciplined to move, bend, and twirl on harsh and frozen surface.

The icy and delicate femininity of an “ice princess” appearance.

The catch however, is in my choice of coffin tips which is where onychomancy reveals the true inspiration and intention behind it.

🧊Grace Kelly in Rear Window (1954)

“She’s not cold. She’s a volcano covered in snow”

This quote from Alfred Hitchcock summed up the energetic essence of my nails. When Hitchcock was asked about his distinctly cool, blonde female leads, he disagreed with the consensus that she was merely icy and sterile or submissive. Instead, underneath the cool mask burns simmering passion and emotional complexity. Despite the calming or icy effect of the designs (depending on how you perceive them), coffin shaped nails according to onychomancy, corresponds to fire. I’m personally aiming to activate my tropical chart’s water houses 4,8, and 12, aka houses of things hidden and the subconscious. These houses in my chart are ruled by the fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius).

This set is less about manifesting an outcome and more focused on embodying a persona. In the book Hitchcock/Truffaut, Grace Kelly recurring presence on his films was described as a paradox between the inner fire and the cold surface: “she is sensitive, disciplined, and very sexy”. Such duality makes Grace and other women sharing similar roles on screen a compelling and mysterious force of art.

🪞Kim Novak in Vertigo (1958)

So my current nails shows rather than tells about the wearer. In a book of Onychomancy, it states how glass tips are like windows. A purely transparent set express full candor yet if it is embellished, the wearer may enjoy a bit of poetic license in its revelation. This is for someone who says “please look. but don’t touch”. I like how the book also states the support glass tips provide for setting boundaries and discernment which is something i’m trying to incorporate in the otherwise explosive self-expression of my inner truth. When I do express my emotions outward, I’m reminded that not everyone deserves to know this side of me. Color wise, my set can be placed in the light blue category. Based on color psychology this shade of blue symbolise patience, peace, and calmness. I view this color as Saturnian in nature. Because boundaries + coolness vibrates with Saturn.

A person whose fire elements is in her hidden houses posess a lot of passion and energy within a calm surface. There’s a tendency to hide this side of myself out of shame. I was made to feel that this authentic side of me was too much even frightening, thus not meant to be seen. I think my set wants me to feel safe expressing more of my fiery creative side by being assured that I’ll naturally remain “cool-headed” while doing so. I’m encourage by the intensity of my emotions and expressing my passions unapologetically without the fear of losing my mind. The addition of a 3D snowflake heart on my mars fingers (thumbnails) represents heart-centered willpower. Even if she’s a little cold, she’s not without life.

I find the women of Hitchcock thrillers act as invitations to explore the hidden inhibitions of his protagonist. If they aren’t capable of maintaining a healthy sense of mind, they’d lost it in the pursuit of her mysterious secret inner world. I think her independence, range, poise, and determination is something I like to embody more of recently💋.

*I don’t claim invention or expertise of onychomancy. For more depth on the subject you can check @/occult nails and @/taibunnii on Twitter.

*Ki Lunula books such as : “The Ancient Art of Onychomancy” and/or “Explorations in Onychomancy”are great sources of knowledge on this subject.

#onychomancy #nail art #witchblr #astrology observations

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northwest-cryptid · 8 months ago

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I think one of the big reasons I identify with gender queer more than say "gender fluid" or "non-binary" exclusively is because I don't know which of the two best defines what I experience.

The truth of the matter is that while most trans people I know have some kind of hatred towards their body/past identity, I do not.

I don't see that man in the mirror and go "that's not me, I must kill this man and release myself from my flesh prison!" Rather I see myself in the mirror and undeniably feel like that is me, some days it's a good feeling, other days it's not. I originally attributed this to gender fluidity the idea that some days I felt more comfortable as a man than others.

This made sense to me because if I looked at myself and felt my more masculine features were off putting, typically I would shave or in some way get rid of or hide those features and it made me feel better. However the problem with that was that while sure sometime this feeling wouldn't revert for weeks, other times I'd wake up the next day and hate the way I looked simply because I lacked the more masculine features I had come to find made me comfortable to begin with.

I thought maybe I was just "more" gender fluid than others, maybe I "switched" more often; this lead me to believe that maybe I didn't fit the binary, I was something in between the two. However that's also not entirely true, because while yes I don't always feel comfort in my masculinity or femininity seeking something else entirely or rather to be rid of them both; I also DO find comfort in them from time to time.

I'm a fervent believer that gender neutral/non-binary is not the same as androgynous though I do understand why those who identify as such may find comfort in it.

I noticed quickly upon coming out as NB/Gender Fluid that even close friends still referred to me with he/him more often than not, and I conceded myself to "being okay with it" because I realized that if even my close friends couldn't see me as anything else, the world around me surely couldn't either. Especially when my close friends have no issue correctly gendering others no matter what pronouns they happen to use. This isn't meant to point a finger or assign blame, it's merely to say I assume my masculinity is too strong for me to be seen as anything other than a man.

I had considered getting on estrogen to possibly become more androgynous but I fear I'd be doing it for the sake of getting others to respect me, what if I become something I don't associate with in the mirror, what if I hate what I become; and what if people still don't view me differently for it?

I'm comfortable in my skin, at least for now. I see the man in the mirror and recognize them as myself, and that's nice to me; sometimes I wish to see something I could more easily identify as a woman but I more often than not do not feel any dysphoria towards myself from myself; rather it comes from feeling like those who do respect my pronouns are forcing themselves to, and those who don't are merely being honest with me about what they see.

Sometimes I wish I weren't so complicated, I often wish I was simply just "trans" male to female simple as that, maybe then it would be easier. Easier to gauge my "success" in transition, easier to respect my pronouns, maybe I'd be more believable, maybe I'd be seen differently.

Unfortunately that's just not who I am. I often don't make a big deal of it, because I fear people would consider me a hassle to deal with if I did. If I cared too much about something like my identity, then I fear people would leave me. Sure I understand, you might say "if someone doesn't respect your identity, would it be so awful if they left you?" Yes, it would. These are my friends, and they're all I have. I know that may be hard to understand, but all of my friends have other friend groups; I do not have a Group B so to speak, I have tried, time and time again; to make friends. It never works, I'm not good at socializing, it's very difficult for me to make friends, I don't know how to talk to people.

Sometimes I come across as distant, other times I come across far too overbearing, it's never intentional. The fact of the matter is the people who I am friends with understand me on a certain level, we're comfortable around each other and I do have a lot of love for them. They mean a lot to me, and to lose them over something "as minor as my gender" would probably push me to a sort of depression I don't want to ever return to. That being said I do often wonder if I will ever truly be okay with my identity, if I'll ever really feel comfortable, or feel like myself.

Because I fear that even those closest to me will never see me as I wish to be seen; and it feels forced when they say they do, because so many others don't see it, and I just feel like they're the ones being real with me.

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azul41 · 2 years ago

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I saw a tik tok video about nadya okamoto advocate to not have companies not say feminine products for menstruation products like tampons and pads etc. I totally understand the purpose of doing that as a FTM person myself. But how she went about it in her tik tok video made it seem cringy and preachy. She is a cisgender female that was trying to advocate for the trans FTM community that didnt seem realistically applicable. Her whole approach is about that people should not be shamed about menstruation because it been stigmatized for ages and lets be period positive. I am not saying this applies to all FTM but most trans FTM would try to hide their period for their safety rather than being embarrassed about it. Periods can out FTM or gnc people with utereus because it can expose them to people who are dangerous and uncomfortable about the mere existence of transgender people. Not comforming to societal standards of gender can/will put people in danger. Periods can be a source a huge dysphoria for FTM who sees it as a reminder of what cannot be full realized as their gender identity. FTM has to use stalls to the bathroom and having a dirty tampon or pad in the bathroom trash can mean possible endangerment of being exposed as a "fake." I mean is that periods can be trigger for distressing gender dysphoria. So Nadya being a CEO of August tampons, she is has to sell her products to make her company grow and money at the end of the day. Even if she doesn't realize it, she is making money off of selling menstruation products and advertising to relate to FTM or gender non-conforming folks with uteruses. It is still a company after all that needs to make money at the end of the day. Her being a CEO doesnt make it any better that she is making money off of advertising tampon products and she inadvertently wants the FTM or gnc community to buy her products and advertise her products. To be publicly showing off and to be proud or ones period to promote her brand. She makes video about educating people about changing the term "feminine products" to menstruation products, without giving context or explanation of how that term can affect trans people in real detail. Tik tok videos are short and people still question the existence of trans people but she could have explained what specific demographic of people who would benefit from this term change. She just says that term is outdated and not every menstruation products apply to girls all the time. Beyond that there isn't the who, what or reason why. I could say another conversation of why i think Nadya is weird but idk why. This issue is deeply personal to me and I just feel like cis people trying to cover trans topics is like a white person lecturing in asian american studies. It just doesnt work. She coulda uplifted trans people voices in her video by having a trans people talk about it in her account and using her platform but whatever. Its her account and i think it really needs nuance from trans people to explain this topic more. At the end of the day I still feel uncomfortable about her making video about it with the association that she has a product to sell and i wanna seem cool to FTM or gnc to buy my product vibe. There were comments on that video of FTM being empowered by Nadya taking about this term change and good on them for feeling like they can be proud of who they are but this topic is layer and it is not safe for other people in the FTM and gnc community.

#nadyaokamoto #augusttampons

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aidanchaser · 2 years ago

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Boulangérella: A Miraculous Fairy Tale AU - Chapter 3

Table of Contents Read on Ao3

beta’d by @7wizardsshallanswerthecall, @mothmanhamlet, @ccboomer and @aubsenroute

Chapter Three Monsieur Pigeon

Ladybug was not entirely sure how she and Chat Noir would be able to successfully free Monsieur Ramier from Hawk Moth’s control. When Monsieur Ramier had been transformed by Hawk Moth in the past, he was given the power to control pigeons. Tonight, however, Hawk Moth had granted him an ability to get revenge on those teenagers who had harassed his pigeons by transforming them into the very pigeons they had come for. Now no one in the city was safe; merely the brush of a cursed pigeon’s wing would transform them into another bird in Monsieur Pigeon’s flock.

Ladybug and Chat Noir ducked behind a chimney and pressed themselves flat against the wall, hoping to hide from Monsieur Ramier—or, rather, they ought to call him Monsieur Pigeon while Hawk Moth had control of him.

“My lady—” Chat Noir pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. In a nasally whisper, he continued, “I think he’s got us pinioned down.”

She ignored the terrible pun. This was hardly the time. “This power of his is new…” She tried not to sound too doubtful as she unclipped her magical bandalore from her waist, but she couldn’t see a solution yet. “How can we possibly get close enough to find the cursed object?”

“I can distract him,” Chat Noir suggested. “My sneezes will make it easy for him to find me, and you can find the object Hawk Moth has cursed.”

“He doesn’t need to find us. Any of his pigeons can touch us and that’s it…”

“Hawk Moth won’t want our miraculous gifts to transform with us,” Chat Noir pointed out. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage—”

He stopped as a flash of orange on a nearby rooftop caught his eye. It stood out strangely in the dark night, especially when most of the movement in the sky was made of gray and black pigeon feathers. But before he could mention it to Ladybug, Chat Noir sneezed.

A nearby pigeon called in response, and Ladybug and Chat Noir ran. He pulled Ladybug in the direction of the orange blur, unsure where else they ought to go. He hoped that, just maybe, it was a stroke of luck, the sort that Ladybug could turn into a victory.

Ladybug and Chat Noir slid over a roof top and down to the street level, just in time to see something orange and white slip into one of the many tunnels that ran under the city. Underground certainly seemed safer than the skies, so they both followed.

Chat Noir dropped down beside her and rubbed his nose. “It might smell down here,” he said, “but it’s easier to breathe than among all those feathers.”

“What was that orange… thing?” she asked.

Chat Noir glanced around, but he saw no sign of the orange blur that had led them here. “I hope it’s help.”

Ladybug cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello?” she called, and her voice echoed down the tunnel walls. She hoped that the birds would not have bothered to explore the tight, underground maze that ran beneath the city. Of course, they would eventually get to her and Chat Noir, but she should have enough time to make a plan.

“Ladybug?” a soft, feminine voice called back. “Is that really you?”

“Who’s asking?” Chat Noir’s voice echoed in the tunnel. He leaned casually against his baton, but his senses were fully alert. His ears twitched with the magic that pulsed through his veins and his green, cat-like eyes shimmered in the dim light of the underground sewers as they searched for movement.

A girl stepped out from an alcove, and Chat Noir’s shoulders twitched with the urge to pounce. She had long, dark hair with a reddish tint to it. In the front, her hair had been pulled into two red tails with white tips, reminiscent of a fox. She wore white trousers tucked into black boots, and a bright, orange sash wrapped around her waist and trailed off into a sort of tail, white-tipped like her hair. She wore a tight orange bodice edged with black lace and black gloves that ran the length of her arms. Her shoulders and neck were bare, decked only in a gold chain from which hung a curved orange pendant. A pair of tall orange ears sat on her head, not unlike Chat Noir’s own leather cat ears, and her face was covered by a mask in the shape of a fox’s head.

The part of her that drew Chat Noir’s attention, however, was the large bamboo stick in her hand. He kept his brilliant green eyes trained on it, waiting for her to lift it into an attack position.

“Ladybug, I was so hoping I would find you,” the girl said effusively. “Those pigeons—they attacked my family.”

“I think we’re safe here for the moment,” Ladybug said, but Chat Noir was still hesitant to relax his guard.

“How did you get away from the pigeons?” he asked.

The girl touched the pendant at her neck. “This is the gift of illusion. I was able to hide myself. It did not last for long, though…”

“You’re all right now,” Ladybug promised. She held out her hand to the girl. “We’ll help you, and we’ll save your family.”

“Thank you! I know if anyone can help, you can, Ladybug.” She took Ladybug’s hand and squeezed it.

Chat Noir eyed Ladybug and decided he ought to trust her judgment. They were a partnership, but they were not exactly equals. She was the captain and he was more like her first mate who supported her decisions. If she thought they ought to help this girl, he would go along with her plan.

He re-clipped his baton to his belt and gave their new friend a dramatic, sweeping bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your cat-quaintance.”

Ladybug and this new friend were equally unimpressed with his chivalry and humor.

“You said you had the magic of illusion?” Ladybug asked, as if Chat Noir had done no more than clear his throat.

The girl nodded.

Ladybug smiled. “Illusion just might be the distraction we need without risking turning Chat Noir into a pigeon.”

Ladybug tossed her bandalore into the air and called for her Lucky Charm. There was a bright rose-colored light from her bandalore. Her spots flashed and the magic of creation flowed from the bandalore until it had finished constructing the lucky item that she needed. The object that fell out of the light and into her hands was warm and buzzed with magic. She examined the curved reed, red and decked in black spots like her dress. She pursed her lips, unsure exactly what she needed to do with it.

“Do you think you're supposed to hit Monsieur Pigeon with it?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug glanced over at their new friend and the bamboo reed in her hand. “Can you make both sound and images with your gift?”

The girl nodded, and Ladybug laid out their plan.

Chat Noir didn’t like it, but Ladybug was in charge, and so he did as Ladybug asked. He stood on the fifth bridge from the palace and stared at the dark water below. It looked cold. At least his allergies would probably be unaffected while he was in the water.

With a sigh, Chat Noir put the hooked end of the reed in his mouth and jumped into the river.

He could not see well in the water, but the dark itself was not much of a problem for him. The city was well-lit at night, which left her alleyways and the depths of her river dim to the average person, but for Chat Noir it was easy for his cat-like eyes to adjust. He stayed below the surface, careful to keep the top of the reed above the water so that he could breathe, and waited for Ladybug’s signal.

It was not long before he saw what he was waiting for. Ladybug and Chat Noir approached the river bank, pursued by a flock of dark pigeons, whose wings reflected iridescent purple in the city’s many lights.

The illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir hesitated at the water’s edge, apparently cornered. Monsieur Pigeon, in his dark pink and purple suit approached.

“Which will it be?” the man asked with dark glee in his voice. “Join my pigeon army or hand over your miraculous gifts?”

Chat Noir watched Monsieur Pigeon closely in search of the object Hawk Moth had infected in order to amplify Monsieur Ramier’s anger. In the past, it had been Monsieur Ramier’s pigeon call whistle, but Ladybug had warned Chat Noir to be careful and sure before he made his move. They would not get two attempts with Ladybug’s magic of creation, nor Chat Noir’s magic of destruction.

Monsieur Pigeon lifted the whistle to his lips. It was as black as ink, and Chat Noir was certain that he was using it to control the monstrous pigeons. It must be the object they needed. Around the reed in his mouth, Chat Noir muttered, “Cataclysm.”

His ring burned and dark energy gathered in his palm. It may not have hurt, but it required a lot of focus to hold onto.

The first time Chat Noir had summoned his power, he had hastily grabbed a lamp post to keep from losing control and shattering a building; the lamp post had crumbled to dust beneath his hand. After that first night testing his new powers, his fay had warned him that the stronger his emotions, the stronger his Cataclysm would be. In those early days of grieving his mother, it had been almost impossible for him to use it effectively.

But he had learned to control it, and the freedom of being Chat Noir combined with working alongside Ladybug had given him hope in a future again. His Cataclysm had become manageable from not only use and practice, but thanks to a quelling of his grief.

Now, it was a tool he could manage as easily as Ladybug used her Lucky Charm. It cracked and popped in his hand, eager to destroy the first thing it touched, but he held back and waited. He watched as the illusions of Ladybug and Chat Noir removed their illusory miraculous gifts and dropped them into the river.

Chat Noir’s mouth quirked into a small smile. Their new friend had no idea what he and Ladybug looked like underneath their masks, and he thought the tall, plain looking man that took Chat Noir’s place an odd choice. Whoever that man was, though, Chat Noir figured his life was probably easier than Chat Noir’s true identity.

Monsieur Pigeon, as Ladybug had predicted, dove into the river after the miraculous gifts. Chat Noir made his move.

He shot forward in the water and grabbed the whistle out of Monsieur Pigeon’s hand. It crumbled to dust in his grasp. Like ink dripping off of a quill, the suit Monsieur Pigeon had been wearing fell away, and Monsieur Ramier reappeared. He swam up to the surface hastily for air. Chat Noir did the same, careful not to lose sight of the dark iridescent butterfly that flitted through the water.

As Chat Noir broke the surface, Ladybug extended a hand to help him up. Chat Noir reached for her hand and was shocked as his hand passed through hers. Ladybug vanished, and nearby, their new fox-like friend laughed.

Chat Noir climbed out of the river and turned to help Monsieur Ramier. “Ladybug?” he called, annoyed with both himself and their new friend. Carefully, he shook the water from his arms. He hated the way it clung to him. It made him feel sticky, unable to slip easily and invisibly through the night.

Ladybug—the real Ladybug—hurried across the bridge. The large pigeons that had surrounded the illusions returned to their normal size and color, and Ladybug no longer had to avoid them as she chased down the dark butterfly that was struggling to fly away with wings weighed down by water. She unleashed her bandalore on it. The circular clay on the end of the string slid open and captured the butterfly within it. There was a flash of white light as the butterfly was sealed inside, and the bandalore returned to Ladybug’s hand.

Once she had whispered the incantation to purify the cursed creature, Ladybug opened her bandalore and released the butterfly. The butterfly, now as white as snow, flitted off into the night. Ladybug wished it well on its journey, as she always did. And as he watched, Chat Noir’s heart fluttered as it always did; he loved her for her confidence, determination and intelligence, but her kindness, more than anything else, left him full of adoration. His love never waned, no matter how many times he watched her wish a future of hope onto a creature that had been turned into an agent of destruction.

Their new fox-like friend stepped out of the shadows beside Chat Noir and watched as Ladybug threw her bandalore into the air and her Lucky Charm undid all the damage to the city and its citizens that Hawk Moth had wrought through Monsieur Pigeon. There was a sweep of red, flitting ladybugs that swarmed the pigeons, the streets, and then hurried down the alley, finishing their work throughout the city.

All was as it had been when Ladybug and Chat Noir had first transformed and slipped off into the night, except for the whistle. Ladybug’s magic was powerful, but the object that Hawk Moth infected with his curse remained damaged in whatever way Ladybug and Chat Noir chose to free the curse. It was the one thing Ladybug did not have the magic to fix.

But Monsieur Ramier had grown quite used to replacing his pigeon call whistles in the past year.

“Are you all right, Monsieur Ramier?” Ladybug asked.

Monsieur Ramier wrung out his dripping cap. “Did it happen again, Ladybug?”

“I’m afraid so,” she smiled. “But everything’s been set right.”

“I am so sorry,” he said. “But thank you for saving me. I know I can count on you each time.”

“Of course you can,” Ladybug promised. “And Chat Noir and our new friend, of course.” She gestured to Chat Noir and the girl in orange.

The girl in orange grinned and rested her flute-like reed over her shoulder. “You can call me Volpina,” she said.

“You have my gratitude,” Monsieur Ramier said with a bow.

Chat Noir wrinkled his nose in an attempt to stall a sneeze, but he was unable to stop himself. The group of pigeons lifted into the air in surprise, then followed Monsieur Ramier along the river’s edge, back towards his home.

“We really couldn’t have done this without you, Volpina,” Ladybug said, and held out her hand to the girl in orange. “I hope we’ll have your help in the future.”

Volpina took Ladybug’s hand and even managed a small curtsy. “Any time, Ladybug. I think I’ll be in the city for a while longer.”

“You’re not from here?” Chat Noir asked curiously.

Volpina’s mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “I thought you heroes liked secret identities.”

“We do,” Ladybug said quickly, “but it is surprising that you just showed up suddenly.”

The smile on Volpina’s face faded. Though her eyes were hidden behind an orange and black mask, complete with the snout of a fox, she looked sad. “My grandmother passed away recently. This pendant was hers. I didn’t know it was a miraculous gift until I put it on. I was afraid to use it, unsure that I could uphold the legacy she left behind, but when my family was hurt in Monsieur Pigeon’s attack, I called upon the power of illusion to escape and find you.”

All of Chat Noir’s wariness melted away in an instant. He knew grief. It cloaked him as thoroughly as the masks he put on for each of his identities.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” he said. “You were a great help today.”

The green emeralds on his ring flickered and the magic in one of the stones of the cat’s paw dimmed.

Volpina eyed it curiously, then said, “I think I need to take my leave.”

“Of course,” Ladybug said.

And as Volpina disappeared into the night, Ladybug’s earrings flickered.

“We ought to go too, chaton,” she said with a smile.

But he was loathe to leave his lady after their time together had been so brief. He looked down at the five glowing green emeralds set into his ring. Only one had flickered out. “I have a bit longer.”

Ladybug shook her head, but she was smiling. “It’s a good thing we met Volpina tonight.”

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Her smile faded ever so slightly. “Well… I might not be around very much over the next month. It’ll be good to know there’s someone else here to help the city.”

Chat Noir’s heart sank. But he swallowed down his own hurt and focused on her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, but Chat Noir did not believe her. Ladybug was many things, but chiefly she was a hero, and a hero did not show her weak spots, not even to her partner.

“It’s just…” She struggled to find the words then finally managed, “In my other identity, I’m about to be very busy. I have a lot of people that I’m responsible to, and they’re all going to need my attention. I’ll still be around, and if Hawk Moth attacks I’ll be there, but these nights where we patrol… I don’t know how many of those we’ll have for a while.”

“Oh,” he said. He did not know how to put words to his heartbreak. Nights with Ladybug were the best part of his life. He wasn’t sure what he would do without them, and he wasn’t sure how to tell her about his own looming deadline.

Her earrings flickered again. Another emerald on his ring went out.

“Promise me something?” she asked.

“Anything,” he said readily.

“Try not to steal anything, please? I don’t want to come after you because Audrey Bourgeois can’t find her pearls.”

Chat Noir flicked at the silver bell that rested at his collar. It jingled softly. “I wear this bell for you,” he grinned. “Can’t get past any hunting dogs with this on.”

It was not entirely true. Chat Noir was good at sneaking around even with the bell around his neck, but it symbolized his loyalty to Ladybug more than anything. It had become an addition to his outfit only after he had fallen for her.

It had not taken him long. The very same night that she had first dragged him from the Bourgeois's manor only to send him right back in to return the rings he had taken, one of Hawk Moth’s monsters had attacked.

Chat Noir had readily run to help, and though he would never know it, it was his confidence that had encouraged Ladybug to join him. She might never have dared to use her magic to face the monster if he had never asked her to help protect the city.

Together, they had learned that they could defeat the monsters in a way that the castle’s soldiers could not, and that the gifts they bore from the Forest of Fay were gifts that could be used not simply for their own benefit, but to help and protect the kingdom. And, more than that, Ladybug could undo in a moment whatever damage had been wrought by Hawk Moth’s attack.

It was during that first fight that Ladybug had learned that Chat Noir was a better friend than he was thief, and it was during that first fight that Chat Noir had fallen in love.

So he had worn a bell, ever since that first fight. A faux-deterrent from stealing, because his lady had asked him to.

“Thank you, chaton,” she said, and smiled.

Chat Noir cherished her smiles as much as he cherished her laughter, but he could not bring himself to match her smile.

“I also have some bad news,” he said. The third emerald on his ring flickered out as her earrings flashed.

Ladybug’s smile faded and she tipped her head. “What’s wrong?”

He liked that she had echoed his question. He wished that he could, like she had, assure her that it was nothing.

“After this month, I don’t know that I’ll still be around.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I have one more month before… well, before I assume some new responsibilities in my other life. I think they’ll make it harder to spend my evenings with you, Ladybug.”

It was not often that Chat Noir used her name properly. Ladybug knew that he was being serious, and not just trying to tease her or make her feel guilty for leaving him alone for a month.

She wanted to press him for details, but it would not be appropriate. She was the one who had set the boundaries between their daily lives and their lives as heroes, and it had been for a good reason. She was protecting him and his loved ones as much as she was protecting herself.

“Are you… sure?” she asked, unsure herself what she ought to say.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

It struck them both that from now on, then, any moment might be their last night together. And though it broke Ladybug’s heart to know there was a chance she might lose her best friend for good, she said, “You should go.”

The fourth emerald on his ring flickered out, and her earrings flashed.

“What if I didn’t?” he asked.

“Chaton…”

“Just kidding, of course.” But he had not been kidding, and he and Ladybug both knew it.

She kissed his cheek, then said, “This isn’t good-bye yet.”

“Not yet,” he agreed, and disappeared the way Volpina had gone, but whoever she was, she had already vanished

The final emerald on Chat Noir’s ring flashed and flickered out as Chat Noir murmured, “Plagg, claws in,” and his dark disguise vanished. The black suit fell from him and gathered in his ring, revealing a set of clothing that was just as dark but of much finer and more delicate cloth. The black wisps emerged from his ring and solidified into the form of the tiny black creature he had found in the forest almost a year earlier.

Prince Adrien Agreste leaned against the brick wall that formed half of the alley way and looked up at the sliver of stars visible above the close rooftops while the black cat-like fay dug through a nearby pile of garbage for some discarded cheese. They would need Chat Noir’s disguise to return home, but first the fay creature Plagg would need an offering of cheese to complete their initial bargain before he could give Adrien another turn with the magic of chaos and destruction.

Adrien considered, not for the first time, what might happen if he simply strolled up to the palace gates, and how his father might punish him for sneaking away. On his darker days, Adrien almost dared to do it. What was left for his father to take away from him? He had no control over whom he spoke to nor how he spent his time. Did he even really have control over whom he would marry, or would he just accept whatever his father asked of him? Shy of locking him in a dungeon, there were few ways for his father to restrict his freedoms much further.

But those were only on Adrien’s dark days. He knew that his father only wanted to protect him. He could not imagine how even his aunt might react, knowing the crown prince put himself in the path of danger almost nightly to protect the palace and the city from Hawk Moth’s attacks. He didn’t think she’d be any happier about it than his father. His mother might have understood, though. She’d have been upset, he thought, and worry, but he liked to think that she’d have understood.

“We need to do something about our new fox friend,” Plagg said as he dug through the piles of garbage.

Adrien tore his eyes away from the stars. “What’s wrong with Volpina?” She had helped them, despite his initial suspicions, and her grief had seemed genuine.

“Weren’t you listening?” Plagg disappeared into an old wooden box and re-emerged with a wedge of pungent, mold-covered cheese. “It’s not camembert, but it’s aged alright.”

Adrien wrinkled his nose in disgust as Plagg swallowed the cheese whole. He was not sure how Plagg managed it, considering the wedge itself was about twice Plagg’s size, but the fay creature seemed to stretch around the cheese, then compress back into his fay form.

“What do you mean about Volpina?” Adrien asked, when it was clear that Plagg was too interested in digesting his meal to return the conversation on his own.

“Did you notice how her pendant didn’t flicker with magic after she used her gift? That’s not a normal bargain. That’s a lifetime debt. Those trades don’t come cheap. Sounds like she may have stolen it from her grandmother.”

“Weren’t you listening? Her grandmother died. Surely Volpina just wanted something to remember her grandmother by.”

Plagg, however, was concerned for Trixx, who was his best friend in as far as fay creatures had best friends. Trickery and chaos went hand in hand. But he paused his concern for Trixx and took a moment to gauge the grief in Adrien’s eyes.

Plagg was not a sensitive creature by definition. He was born of chaos and destruction. His power was a curse, meant to inflict harm on others. And even then, it was mostly targeted at those who would hurt Tikki and her bondsman—or bondswoman, as was more often the case.

As a rule, Plagg did not express fondness for his bondsmen—or bondswomen, as it had been on several occasions—but Adrien was an exception. Plagg had observed many things in his year at the palace, but he had observed very little fondness. Adrien deserved a bit of care.

So Plagg shifted into his preferred form, a scrawny black cat, and threaded himself around Adrien’s feet. He nuzzled his whiskers and cheeks against Adrien’s ankles in a rare show of affection. It earned him a small smile from Adrien. It was still a sad smile, but most of Adrien’s smiles were sad. Someday Plagg would get a real smile from this boy. Something absolutely feral. It was what the boy deserved, especially after all he had been through, and especially given what was to come.

Plagg could not see the future—that was a different fay’s gift—but Plagg knew a few things about what went on in the palace that Adrien did not know. He chose to keep them to himself for now. Adrien would find out in time, and hopefully he would be ready to face those secrets when they eventually unraveled, as secrets always did.

Adrien knelt beside Plagg and stroked his spine. “We can’t do much more to investigate Volpina tonight. I suppose we ought to go home.”

Plagg tilted his head. “I bet we could still snag one of those pendants you were thinking about. Ladybug doesn’t have to know.”

The sad smile twitched ever so slightly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Something smaller then,” Plagg wheedled. “Something that really won’t be missed. Oh, we could stop by that boulangerie! It isn’t far. They’re the only place I’ve seen in this half of the continent that sells those fluffy cheese-filled pastries.”

“I can just order a bunch to be delivered to the palace,” Adrien said, but they both knew it would not be the same. There was something thrilling about slipping in and out of somewhere unseen, of having power and control over one little thing in his life when he was denied that power in so many other places.

When Plagg made no additional argument except to stare up at Adrien with pleading green eyes, the prince sighed. “Plagg, that’s a business, and the shop owners are very kind. I don’t want to steal from them.”

“Take the old stuff. It tastes just as good. We can leave something in exchange. Please,” he drew out his plea with a long whine. “We haven’t stolen anything in over a week, and you just promised Ladybug that we’d be good for another month. Can’t we have one last teeny-tiny hurrah?”

Plagg was Adrien’s closest friend and confidant while simultaneously being Adrien’s worst influence.

“Plagg, claws out,” he whispered, and the black cat at his feet stretched around him, spreading out from his ring, and cloaking him once more in the disguise of Chat Noir.

So when Marinette Dupain-Cheng finally returned home, well after her parents had retreated upstairs to bed, she found that three of their popular deep-fried, cheese-filled pastries were missing, and in place of the pastries, someone had left behind a small bouquet of budding hellebore.

#ml fairy tale au #fairy tale au #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #ladynoir

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feral-embrocations · 6 months ago

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Shoot and Interview in i-D - Italy - 2021

Makeup and styling by me, shoot by Gloria Moreno and Kumpaw

"" Whats you're inspiration? Once upon a time there was a young jester, serving the king of highest kingdoms in all northern lands. The old king had accused the jester of attempted poisoning, so the jester was banished from the kingdom for eternity. The jester ran out into the woods, despite the devastating blizzard that ruled the terrain, and it didn't last long until the young gent was now lost in the forest. - and not just any forest- These were the northern forests where wild wolves, grey foxes and packs lynx reigned with carnivorous manners. The jester ought to use his mutability, intellect and creativity to survive. After several years in the company of the sacred critters of dark woodlands, deep swamps and deserted hills, the jester returned to the castle. It was dirtier than any court lady’s worst nightmare, trotting on all fours directly towards the big gate. It left a trail of mud along the endless hallways and finally reached the ballroom.

The king got an utter shock at the sight of the tattered jester, who to the king's surprise, was only wearing frayed bloomers, and a tattered shirt that once was white and rugged hunting tools dangling from a rope belt. The king couldn't hide his rage and demanded the jester to be immediately executed despite his former fondness with the adolescent. The ferocious jester eyes were bright and deep, as he purred with spite against the throne. He had not returned for the mere sake of enshacklement, but rather to warn the emperor that a painful change was about to submerge within the golden walls. It was as if an irreversible bestial essence had infested the jester. It’s fast paws swiftly jumped to hide behind a statue as the princess walked in. She caught only a glimpse of the savage creature, sensing something familiar about him. Twilight was approaching and the jester’s plan was almost complete.

The king’s army followed by a herd of angry villagers had scattered in search of the felon, “Dead or alive” shouted the king. The princess laid in her room, thinking how the jester could seem so different and odd… . At the break of dawn, it sneaked into the princess’ dorm, lurking behind the velour drapes, glimpsing the beautiful princess as she was sleeping. She awoke from the sounds of fumbling across the room and saw two yellow eyes flickering. She was frightened, though curious. She approached it, and the now gentle jester hunched its back and she caressed the brown and humid fur. She remembered how her dreams of escape had faded when the jester was banished a long time ago, but before her next breath, the jester had a tight grip around her waist and splintering glass flew to all sides as it jumped out the castle window. She clenched its warm body, awaiting to accompany the wild jester on ferocious travels through the forest, hunting down sensuous secrets, notorious nests, hazardous holes, deistic discharge, sizzling skin, and leaky landscapes.

How do you identify?

As for many queer people I have been sexualized and objectified to a point where it is hard for me to differ between my own life path and sexuality, and the one that’s expected from me. I find strength when I find the representation that mainstream media won’t allow me to see, that shows me how literally any gender identity and sexuality is so real and valid (recently through alt-/trans- & black-tik tok) and how you can NEVER assume someone’s gender from how they present themselves.

Through identifying myself as nonbinary, I came to realize how I am more nuanced than they thought I was, and that I am the only one who can give myself permission to channel any form of masculinity/femininity/alienlike/childlike/bossy/bimbo/submissive/dominant/animalistic/dirty/scattered/spiritually/wholesome vibe I feel like, at any given moment. It is a lifelong journey to break up with the internalized white capitalist patriarchy, which deems me to choose one path that I should rigidly live up to, instead of seeing myself as a fluid, everchanging energy that grows into new per(/fur-)sonas all the time. - Being able to see people as they want to be seen, requires a willingness to listen and understand, on their terms.

I believe that the binary is a made up construct (also biologically, yes) that EVERYONE suffers from, so in this construct I feel most comfortable identifying as queer, nonbinary, pansexual, polyamourous, switch, bdsm-furry/hunter-lover, who will never limit myself and obey to what society told me is romantic, beautiful, attractive and ambitious. I am a victim of the cistem (as everyone is), therefor I must try my best to unlearn every toxic trait it told me, by loving myself unconditionally and with that comes the shame and guilt of acknowledging that I am capable of being predatory and offensive. Therefore, especially as white queer, it’s mine and our responsibility to find the knowledge we weren’t taught, about consent, boundaries, white supremacy, colonialism, racism, queer history and intersectional feminism. A journey I will encourage everyone to join. I can assure you it’s painful but even more so, freeing, interesting and euphoric.

From Levi <333

(note: I'm wearing an fly whisk in my belt found at the recycle station which I wouldn't wear today, knowing it is used in a number of diferrent cultures that are not mine for ceremonial purposes among other)

#leviathanfurtiliuswritings #leviathanfurtiliusmodel

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 8 months ago

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Moving Forward - Chapter 36

*Warning Adult Content*

Frozen

At Max's side, Kyle was becoming a force to be reckoned with, Max's hold on his fur the only reason he hadn't already leapt onto the porch but it was... so clearly a trap.

********

They'd been watching for a least five minutes, the rain doing its best to drown them and the cherry scent was strongest here... but there was no sign of anyone being here.

No brainwashed wolves guarding the area, nor any movement inside the house.

A laugh carried on the wind.

High and feminine, the familiarity of it had Max's teeth grinding.

The rumble of a growl vibrated through Max's tight fist but no real sound escaped Kyle.

Lara's laugh was only a harbinger, timed perfectly to set them on edge.

There was no clear source, it came from no direction.

In front and behind, both loud and faint, it sounded as if it came straight out of a horror film.

So she could do more than just make scentless zombies.

Good to know, but Max would've preferred to have the info earlier.

They should just go, just back out and recover.

Do some recon, get more on their enemies other than the fact that one had some kind of magic ability on some unknown scale and the other was the boss.

God, what a shit-show but Kyle wouldn't, he'd never allow Finn to be their hostage without good cause and according to Kyle, no cause was good enough to leave him behind and Max agreed.

He did but he was also selfish.

Kyle leaving Max here to get Finn back was the best option but that wouldn't happen either.

"Kyle..." he started but was cut off by another bout of laughter.

*********

"Thinking of running Maxie?" Lara voice was taunting.

"You know the odds aren't good. What? You'd rather get your mate to safety than his little brother? What kind of monster are you?"

Max scoffed.

Sure, she knew him but Kyle knew better.

Sowing dissent wouldn't work with them.

Kyle's gold eyes met his and Max could tell that he didn't believe one word coming out of her mouth.

That was enough for Max.

They were getting nowhere hiding in the bushes.

Un-holstering his Glock, he swept the area and crept forward, Kyle crouched and following behind.

What an odd pair they probably made.

When the guns came out, Max was usually the one shifted.

Reversing the roles had a weird effect.

Like sitting in the chair to the left the one he'd been assigned, unsettling... another tilt.

********

The PTSD was setting in with a force that had Max wondering if Kyle had always been a part of his team.

He gave hand signals, letting Kyle know that the enemy hadn't yet been spotted before he remembered that Kyle had never been taught them.

Lara giggled, ominous and clear.

The porch door was open.

No sign of forced entry other than the wicker chairs being strewn about the garden.

Inside was a different story.

Blankets were piled in the corners.

Furniture shoved aside.

Even the fluffy rug had been flung behind the breakfast bar.

Max felt himself tense up at the mess they had made, that he'd no doubt be required to clean up.

Wolves blocked every entrance, any angle of escape covered and there, in the middle of the chaos, was Lara.

Surprise streaked through Max at the sight of Gillespie, though he shouldn't have been.

"Gun down, please," Gillespie said, tone annoyingly cordial but as chilled as it was the last time Max had heard him speak.

Max kept his gun pointed at the man's chest.

"Fine," Gillespie merely waved a hand.

Finn appeared in Lara's arms, tears streaming down his face and chest heaving with sobs.

"Kyle," he screamed, kicking Lara in the shin to break out in a run.

He almost succeeded, almost ploughed right into Kyle's dense fur but between one blink and another, he was back in Lara's grasp, her face... sad.

"Max... put the gun down," her gaze seemed to bore a hole in him.

Max holstered it.

"Lara."

"Now now, I'm the orchestrator of all this," Gillespie drew their attention back to him.

"And I've got demands."

Kyle growled.

"See? This is why it should've been you in human form. At least then we could negotiate. As is, you either agree or you die," Gillespie's smile was gleaming, pure white with sharp pointed teeth, Max's were bigger.

"You're going ta renounce the title of Alpha and bequeath it to me," he shrugged.

"The Evergreen Rivers pack is mine."

The same shade of sun-kissed blonde, pretty blue eyes and the light brow with the Roman nose, delicate on Lara but proud on Gillespie.

"You really are related," Max muttered.

"You know what happens," she smiled but it was angry,

"When a witch and a wolf make a baby? You get one or the other. It's all hereditary and when Gillespie's father died, he came ta us."

"It's a shame he's a dud," Max said, knowing that Gillespie wouldn't like it.

"I reckon we could do with a pause, Lara."

"Coming right up," she lilted and just like that... the world froze.

********

Kyle's paws no longer padded in restless anger.

Finn's chest was suspended in a broken hiccup and Max... was fine.

Stepping away from the frightened child, Lara was grinning.

"You see my power?"

Tilting... Tilting... Tilting.

She was talking but all Max could hear was gunfire.

Pinned down by the enemy, unable to do anything.

Trapped behind enemy lines with no one coming to save them.

The men beside him frozen in fear.

It was nothing like this situation but the moments merged as if they were the same.

It didn't make sense, the forced stillness here to the overwhelming chaos there but it might well have been.

He wasn't there... Max wasn't back in Afghanistan.

Body flushing, hot and cold, he wondered if he should've been listening but he couldn't.

All Max could do was stare as he recognised the powerless position he'd put them in.

Lara's power hadn't touched his body but his mind was trapped.

Rage, absolute fucking rage.

How dare she?

This woman came into his life pretending at friendship and she turns around and does this?

Lara lured him into trusting her and she thought it was okay to toy with him like this?

Magic tricks and spells worked to hold Kyle and Finn but Max knew his body was fine.

It was his mind, it was all in his head.

The noise, the distortion, the inability to distinguish the past from the present.

Weakness, this was a weakness and they were exploiting it.

Did they even know they were doing it?

Max could use that ignorance.

Wading through his PTSD back to the surface, all he'd have to do was wait for the right moment and hope that his limbs obeyed him.

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king-midas-fortnite · 5 days ago

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Midas kept his expression void of anything other than exhaustion he could not hide while trying to anticipate Valeria's feelings on his return.

He expected her to be angry for the things the Prince had said, but hoped that she'd be happy enough to see him to let them pass for the moment. Evidently, she was not. Though he did not fully blame her, he was disappointed. As well, he wished he could have a moment before facing the consequences of actions not his own.

He closed his eyes at their quote from his younger self, almost wincing at the words.

"Valeria, I apologize for the things he said to you. But you should know better than anyone, that wasn't me."

Opening them again, the King habitually buttoned up the shirt the Prince had pulled from his closet, remembering with annoyance that he was also wearing sweatpants. A blooming headache throbbed behind his eyes while he combed over just how many things that blundering moron had said.

He'd opened with a pet name for both Valeria and Mizuki, spoke to everyone on the crew as if they were subjects (or conquests for those more feminine) rather than members of his family team, asserted an authority he did not have, and generally made an ass of himself.

On top of all he'd done to mortify the King, Midas' head swam with memories from thousands of years ago suddenly made fresh after riding a captive "back-seat" to his younger mind for days. Like old scars cut anew, he remembered having that horrible attitude, behaving as if everyone owed him the world merely for existing, all his adolescent relationships, his father's face--

He closed his eyes to that particular image, pinching his brow with a short hiss. Midas spoke low in an attempt to keep his tone from showing how disturbed he was. Whether or not he succeeded, he did not know, "I know you are upset, but just as I understood it wasn't you who'd intruded on the yacht's comm systems and hurled insults at me when the...Gilded version of you came around, cut me some slack."

His comparison wasn't exactly a one-to-one, with that version of Valeria truly being an entirely different individual, while the Prince really was Midas. At least, at one point. However, fair comparison or not, he was of no mind to argue.

✨Congratulations, Your Majesty!✨

You have made it through your youthful curse. The Prince will be sent home, and the King will return. Hopefully, you have learned something from this.

✨Welcome back, King Midas.✨

The Prince entered the King's office with a sudden push to the door. He was aggravated and just wanted to dig through his future self's affects to see if he could find anything useful towards sending him home.

However, he saw Valeria sitting at the desk when he opened the door, and his shoulders slumped. He was in no mood to have another back and forth with anyone, no matter how beautiful. However, again, she could be helpful. If he could manage to play this conversation right.

He closed the door behind him and stepped to the desk, taking off the crown from his head and setting it in front of her, "Valeria, I'd very much like to go home. The version of me you all think so highly of must have something that can help with that in this desk. So if you wouldn't mind letting me where you are, I'm going to look through it."

He didn't like the look she gave him, but just as Valeria went to speak, she and everything else seemed to freeze in place.

He then heard a voice coming from everywhere, expressing congratulations and a return to home.

"Oh, thank the Gods!" He shouted before there was a flash of light that came from his own body--

--When the Prince opened his eyes, he found himself staring into another set. One gold, and one white. They were his eyes, only...older. Tired, dark underneath, and obviously angry.

"You have made quite the mess for me to clean up." King Midas said to him.

The Prince blinked, taking in the dark tattoos wrapping around his neck and disappearing under his clothes, the scar cutting down from his forehead across his eye, and his hair. Longer than the statue, but still far too short. The Prince cleared his throat, "The company you keep should learn how to speak with royalty. Have you no respect for your own title--"

"Enough." Midas put a hand up to silence him, the Prince's eyes quickly scrutinizing the gold covering it, "You make a mockery of it, you have insulted people I care a great deal for, and have thoroughly embarrassed me. I am so very glad to have outgrown you."

They glared at each other a moment before the Prince, just as the King made a move to step, said, "Do you...do you have any advice for me? Before I go back?"

Midas paused, eyeing the other again before sighing, "No. You aren't going to remember any of this anyway."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"I just do, alright? I don't have the patience to explain, but whatever it was that put this curse on us...it would never be so kind as to give me the opportunity to fix my mistakes. No...you're going to go back with no memory of being here. Nothing I say to you now is going to matter."

"Then..." The Prince shifted where he stood, eyes locked onto the gold covering the other’s skin, "Say it anyway."

Midas looked at the young man with deep sorrow. Regret, guilt, anguish, all mixed together in his mind as two gold eyes stared hungrily at the precious metal covering him.

He reached forward, gilded hands gently taking the Prince's shoulders, "Be satisfied. Recognize that what you have...your life, your love, your future daughter, they are all enough. Please, please do not throw it all away for power or wealth. Appreciate everything."

He could see in the Prince's eyes a desire to pull back. He knew there must have been an intensity to his own gaze that would make the younger man uncomfortable. However, the Prince did not pull away. Instead, he swallowed hard, and he seemed to steel himself. He nodded somberly.

Midas did not want to let him go. Part of him thought, horrifyingly, that killing him would prevent every mistake he ever made. But, it would also prevent everything else. Every friendship, every love, every accomplishment and joy. Jules, Valeria, Tina, Marigold...all of it.

He slid his hands from the prince's shoulders, nodding himself. Both of them took the step to pass each other, both stepped towards the lights that would take them home.

King Midas stopped just before reaching his. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his younger self reach for the light, and disappear. He hadn't looked back. Of course not. Deciding not to look back, not to reflect...That was always his problem.

Not anymore.

The King turned to the light once more, and next found himself snapping open his eyes in his office. Valeria sat in front of him at his desk, his crown on its surface. He picked it up with hands covered in gold, and replaced it on his head.

“I’m back, φοίνικα μου.”

#midas posts #fortnite rp #gold encounters #fortnite tumblrverse #cursed with youth #((oh man the “totally not a couple” couple is fighting over THIS))

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samael-i-am · 3 years ago

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to be a boy

trans hunter week day one - childhood (@rqmdae)

He’d always had a strange sense of dislocation, when it came to his body and his place in the world.

He wasn’t sure when it started - he couldn’t remember much from his childhood, nothing at all before that moment kneeling in charred ashes, his uncle’s hand caressing his shoulder, not even the barest glimpse of a memory before gilded gauntlets curled around his arm. It was just- always sort of there, that odd disconnected sense of different-ness, of wrongness, a little creeping feeling that made his skin crawl and had him tug on the collars of his shirts so they were all baggy in the front and no-one could see his chest. It wasn’t so bad when he was in uniform, body shielded by a thick white cloak, but when he attended the Emperor in his thin cotton shirt and black trousers, there was nothing for him to hide in, phantom eyes tracing the curves of his body that he hated.

He was a girl - he should be a girl, the Emperor told him he was a girl, and didn’t the man who gave him his life know best? Still, he took a strange, secret glee in thinking of himself as a boy, and sometimes he would take wrappings from his first-aid kit and bandage his chest, only out of curiosity, of course, but he felt a perverse sort of pleasure in it, heart beating like he’d won a race. Sometimes, when he was alone, he would hum deep in his chest, and delight in the way it lowered his voice like so many of the other scouts. At some point, he’d begun thinking of himself as a he instead of a she, an inexplicable train of thought that he couldn’t quite shake away, and it jarred him to hear the soft edges of words he no longer thought in terms of whenever someone addressed him.

A few months ago, Kikimora had sat him down with a few books on his ‘changing body,’ and with a long-suffering look to her eye, told him to consult them if he had any questions about things. She had been rather vague about what things entailed. He had read the books cover to cover, some more than once, a horrible revulsion at the images of female witch’s bodies settling in his gut - he did not want that, did not, that was not what he wanted to happen to him, and no matter what he did, it was going to happen anyways. And happen it did - slowly, at first, more padding to his hips, his thighs, his chest - and then it felt as if one day he had woken up, and his body was merely a puppet that he sat inside, something not meant for him, dancing miserably on its strings. It was wrong.

He thought about what life would be like, sometimes, if he were a boy. If his uncle would still comment dryly on the spare curves of his body, in a way that Hunter knew he proved unsatisfactory in this measure, too. Once, when his uncle had been in a good mood, he asked what his name would have been, had he been born a boy. Hunter, his uncle had said, so simple and easy, without a moment’s second thought. Hunter. The name felt rough around the edges, a glove with a lumpy hem, but he took it for his own, when he lay in his bed late at night. Hunter. He wrapped himself in its embrace, and imagined what Hunter might be doing - if Hunter would be more pleasing to Belos than he was, the nephew to take his father’s place instead of a gangly niece with soft cheeks and fat in all the wrong places.

It all came to a head the day he found dark spots of blood in his underwear, the day where the world seemed to collapse - the day, according to Kikimora’s books, that he became a woman, a concept so foreign to him that for a while all he could do was stare at the mess in his pants and hiccup desperately, not quite crying. A woman - Head Witch Terra was a woman, he thought, and Lilith Clawthorne, but him? He was a square peg in that round hole, and he couldn’t shave his edges down to make himself fit. He had to do - something, anything, because suddenly even the barest hint of femininity was something so unbearable it was like a knife to the chest.

He’d never kept his hair long, as a matter of practicality, but it still hung far enough down his head that he could tie it in a tail. That day, in the barrack bathroom, he took his pocket knife and sawed off his blonde locks so that they lay like tiny, wind-curled leaves on the grubby tile floor. When he was done, his hair lay ragged and uneven on the back of his head, and his scalp prickled when he ran his hand along it, and he still looked like a girl, really, but he felt- better. Not good, but better.

He wore a uniform for most of his day, of course, and no one saw what he had done until he attended the Emperor late that evening. Anxiety had eaten away at him with each passing hour - he had never been told how to do his hair, other than to keep it manageable, but his uncle did not take kindly to surprises of this short. Still, the deed was done, and there was nothing he could do but wait.

Wordlessly, he had taken off his mask and hood, and stared at the Emperor’s feet, head bowed underneath the man’s masked gaze. Neither said a word, for a moment, and then something forced its way out of his chest.

“Uncle, I- I don’t think I’m a girl,” he said quietly, eyes glued to the floor.

“Is that right?” He nodded cautiously. “Look at your betters when you speak.” He raised his head, and hunched his shoulders against the Emperor’s cold-eyed stare. “Are you a boy, then?” He wasn’t sure what laced his uncle’s voice, but it was eerily, distinctly unfamiliar. Excitement? Maybe he had been right, that being a girl was unsatisfactory, and his uncle had merely been waiting for him to make the right choice all along.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” the Emperor said slowly, thoughtfully, in the way one regarded a pleasant but unexpected piece of news. “Let us see what there is to be done about that.”

#thank GOD i had something to pull out of my drafts for this oh my god #trans hunter always on my mind fr fr #*slaps hunter* this bad boy can fit SO many trans headcanons #the owl house #toh #hunter the golden guard #toh hunter #the golden guard #the owl house season two #hunter the owl house #hunter toh #the owl house hunter #toh fanfic #the owl house fanfiction #transgender #trans hunter week

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thebeautyoffanfics · 3 years ago

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Hey there Savi.. could i request a kou,mitsuba and tsukasa x reader where their s/o gets bullied alot?? I've been struggling with it recently and now that school is going to start again im dreading it .. thank you in advance <3

kou minamoto x gn!reader, mitsuba sousuke x gn!reader, tsukasa yugi x gn!reader

a/n: of course!! I’m really sorry that you’ve had experiences like that, but I also genuinely hope that this year will be better! You’ve got this-!! And don’t be afraid to ask for help <3 you’re so so welcome, tho I’m sure schools probably started by now, therefore I’m super sorry for the time this took- and thank you so much for requesting <3

Waaaaaah i’m also sorry if it’s OOC, cos I know Tsukasa’s at least is;;; writer’s block is aaaaaaah-;; I’ve genuinely been writing this since September 19th,,,,

warnings: bullying

word count: 2,044

kou minamoto <3

You glanced at your phone screen, the date flashing up at you. It was depressing. Thoughts of previous years danced in your head, as you shut your phone back off. You currently stood outside of your school, “open house” finally over. School was starting back in just a few days. Your days of freedom could be counted on one hand… this was, by far, one of your least favorite times of the year.

“(Y/N)! Do you still want to walk to the park?” Kou questioned, running up beside you. You nodded, hoping that spending time with your boyfriend would get your mind off of school, and memories related to such. As the two of you began to walk, you could practically feel the question on the tip of Kou’s tongue. He always made himself rather obvious- his hands fidgeted a bit, his gaze lowering to the ground.

“Say, (Y/N)... you seem sad. Is it because school’s starting back?”

You thought for a moment, unsure of how to put it. He certainly wasn’t wrong…

“Yeah, that’s basically it… last year was just… not a good year, haha.”

“Oh? Well, I’m sure this one will be better!! If you want, we can make a list or something? All the bad things about last year can be something we change this year-!”

Despite bitterly knowing that it wasn’t exactly something within your realm of control, you laughed a bit. “That’s… insanely corny, Kou. I didn’t say a terrible idea- just… corny.”

When you glanced up at him, you noticed his red face, as he blurted out an excuse. A moment of fumbling over his words passed, before he gave up, glancing off to the side once more.

“Wh-whatever- I mean, just… like, tell me what’s wrong, if you want to. And I’ll try to help. Alright?”

“It’s really not something either of us can help, Kou.”

“So? I’m your boyfriend,” He seemed a bit embarrassed to say, most likely not used to pulling that sort of card, “If you don’t want to tell me, I can’t make you. But, if you’re alright with telling me, I want to know. Either way, I’m here for you...”

“Ah… I know it, Kou. Honestly, I just… dealt with some bullying last year, so I’m really not looking forward to this year. No matter how much I hear ‘oh, the bully does it to feel better about themself’, it’s just emotionally… hm, awful, you know?”

“Oh… I understand, (Y/N). I do remember some people picking on me, since I have a big brother like Teru- it’s not fun at all. Here!! I’ll stay with you, 24/7! Sit with me during classes, and I’ll hang out with you during free time!” “Thanks, Kou- but we probably won’t have every class together.”

“Then- just tell me if something happens during the class,” He spoke, crossing his arms rather seriously. “I’ll talk with the teacher! Easy peasy!!”

A moment passed, before Kou took your hand, looking at the ground, then back up with you. His eyebrows were furrowed just slightly, his eyes not as wide as they usually were. Kou was being serious- as serious as his sweet mind could let him be. He almost seemed to resemble his big brother even more- when the two were serious.

“If something happens, tell me, okay? I mean it. I don’t want this year to be bad for you- as your friend and boyfriend! Let me do what I can to help, alright?”

You blinked a bit. Kou’s words were so sincere, you felt your heart beat a bit quicker. “A-alright. Thank you, Kou. I really mean it.” You spoke, bringing the boy into a hug to hide whatever sort of expression you were making.

“Of course! You don’t need to thank me, (Y/N). I’m happy to try and help-!”

mitsuba sousuke <3

“(Y/N), if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’ll give you something to complain about.”

Ah, Mitsuba… he spoke, his arms crossed as he sat next to you, silently noticing your slightly disheveled clothes. Judging by the slightly down look you wore, too many things were now adding up. Something was bothering you, and he was bound and determined to find out what it was.

“Mitsuba, it’s okay, really. Here! Let’s eat, I’m starving!” You opened up your bento box, sliding one his way, and sticking the chopsticks into your mouth. Though you hummed happily, Mitsuba was… in Detective Mode, to put it lightheartedly. Your every move was being analyzed, as he tried his best to figure out what was wrong. Your eyebrows furrowed, as you swallowed a bit harder than usual.

“What’s the point of lying to me, dummy? If you aren’t hungry, it’s probably because whatever is bothering you is ruining your appetite. Talk to me. I’m serious.”

You sighed, feeling as if the food was stuck in your throat. Or maybe your throat simply felt as though it had a lump in it…? Either way, you were painfully aware of the unpleasant feeling. Along with the creeping suspicion that Mitsuba wasn’t going to leave this alone. Was he good at reading people?? Were you just easy to read…? Or maybe, he was just far too accustomed to the way you reacted to things. Able to focus in on the little things, especially when he wanted to. Perhaps it was the talent of a photographer? Being able to read the entire picture??

Perhaps you were thinking too much into it, desperate for a way to get your mind off of the things going on around you.

“I’m just… dealing with some stuff.”

“Well, duh. What kind of stuff?”

You kept your gaze glued to the floor, fiddling absentmindedly with the chopsticks. You knew you could confide in Mitsuba… yet, something about it felt practically impossible. What would happen if you told him? Could he do anything? He was merely a ghost…

“Oi, I asked a question. Listen, and listen well, you idiot- I know I can’t solve all your problems, but I can at least listen- which is what you’d better be doing right now. You listen to me, though who wouldn’t want to is beyond me, so I can at least do the same. I’m not your therapist, but I am your boyfriend.”

Those words danced around in your mind for a bit, as you considered how to put it. For a moment, you simply nodded, letting Mitsuba know you heard- and were acknowledging- what he said. A few more moments passed before you began to speak.

“Lately, there have been some students… picking on me, I guess. It’s… discouraging, and makes school feel like a living nightmare. You’re the only good thing in my day at this hellhole.”

“Oh.”

You tightened your grip on the chopsticks, trying to read Mitsuba’s tone. Suddenly, it clicked- remembering Mitsuba mentioning being bullied for being “feminine” and “foul-mouthed”. He truly, genuinely, understood where you were coming from.

“I see, then… I’ll tell you what to do, (Y/N). Tell an adult, lame-o. I don’t give a flying flip about ‘oh, they won’t believe me’ or ‘what if the bullies blah blah.’ At least try it- it’s hard, but I don’t care about that either. Also, freaking ignore them. Obviously, you don’t want to pay them attention, so don’t.”

“Mitsuba, it’s not that easy-”

“I know. (Y/N), I’ve been in your shoes. Maybe it’s different- I dunno what kind of bullying they’re doing. Still, if you’re good enough for my standards, you know you’re at least worth something. So don’t let those low-lives get you down. I promise you, if I could, I’d give them a piece of my mind. But, since I can’t, just… do it yourself, or something. Don’t endure it, you rat.”

(“Mitsuba, all your insults lowkey feel like bullying-”

“Shut up, stupid-face, you can’t tell a teacher on a ghost. What’re you gonna say?? Waaaah, sensei, school mystery number 3 is calling me names!! Hah.”

“Tsuchigomori-sensei can see you, you know. And he teaches both Minamoto boys!”

“Lalalaaaa, I can’t hear you-”)

tsukasa yugi <3

Tsukasa… knows.

There was no other way to put it. You knew he knew, and you knew he was just waiting. A part of him wanted you to ask him for help- to confide in him, even if it took some pushing. He was… a bit different in that sense- I mean, how was he to know you didn’t enjoy being bullied? Was it the same way he felt when Amane looked at him with such hatred?

“(Y/N)!! What’s with such a sad look?? Did you get a bad test grade?” Tsukasa questioned, floating alongside you as you entered the broadcasting room. You simply shook your head, placing your bookbag on the floor, then standing back up.

“It’s just been a day, Tsu,” You added, taking a seat near Sakura. As you did, she pushed a cup of tea your way, her gaze as it usually was. She looked right through you, as if you were nothing but a ghost. Still, it was a much better look than the ones given by the bullies. Muttering a ‘thank you’, you lifted the cup, fiddling with it slightly.

“If there’s something bothering you, feel free to share it,” Sakura spoke, her gaze staying on you, then finally closing as she sipped from her cup.

“If there’s something bothering you, share it.” Tsukasa added, placing his head on your shoulder and staring at your eyes. His gaze drifted to your hands when you brought the cup to your lips, then over to your throat as you struggled to swallow.

“Runt, if you don’t back away from them, you’ll the the one bothering them,” Natsuhiko spoke, raising his eyebrows at Tsukasa, then offering you a slightly concerned look. His expression was enough for you to know he wanted to know if you were alright- to which you shrugged, reaching up and patting the side of Tsukasa’s face.

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll be fine, really.”

Sakura pondered for a moment, before standing. “Mitsuba, would you like to walk with me? I should go grab something.”

Mitsuba, who had been sitting off to the side- glanced up, his usual puppy-like expression on his face. “Sure,” He replied, standing up, practically in sync with Natsuhiko.

“I’ll go as well, my lady!”

Oh. She’s doing that on purpose.

Your eyes followed the trio as they left the room, and you could feel Tsukasa’s eyes still stuck on you. The moment the door shut, he spoke. “(Y/N), tell me what’s wrong. You don’t seem to enjoy being miserable!”

“Am I supposed to?” “You’re miserable then? What’s wrong, c’mon!!”

“I didn’t say I was- just that I don’t think many people like it,” You spoke, taking another sip from the tea. The warmth of it made your throat feel hot, but it didn’t help the lump stuck in it.

“(Y/N). Just admit to me what’s wrong, and I’ll do what I can!”

You sighed, not wanting to grow frustrated. Tsukasa was… trying. He just didn’t understand everything- the boy who enjoyed seeing people wear normally unpleasant expressions, of course he wouldn’t personally understand. He wanted to help you, but how could a ghost help? Much less, the ghost of a boy such as him?

“(Y/N)-” “I’m just dealing with some bullies. It’s fine, Tsukasa- I’ll figure something out.”

“I’ll kill them <3”

“Tsu-”

Tsukasa stepped away from you, crossing his arms. “So, (Y/N), you don’t like it when people bully you? I’ll take care of it! Promise!” “Stop it right there, Mr. Only-grants-wishes-for-the-dead. Don’t ‘take care of them.’ I just need to get enough confidence to tell a teacher or something…”

Tsukasa paused, pouting his lips slightly, before nodding. Quickly, he floated back over to you, and trapped you in a hug. His arms wrapped around you securely, making you feel rather safe for being in the arms of such a destructive boy. “Fine. I’ll go with you, then, (Y/N)! I’ll even hold your hand!! And I definitely won’t let those bullies bother you any more~.”

“Tsukasa, please, don’t do anything drastic-” “Whatever you say, (Y/N). You know I can’t go against the wishes of my cute partner~!”

#anon #gn!reader #x gn!reader #oneshot #tbhk #jshk #kou minamoto #mitsuba sousuke #tsukasa yugi #tbhk x reader #jshk x reader #toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun x reader #jibaku shounen hanako kun x reader #kou minamoto x reader #mitsuba sousuke x reader #tsukasa yugi x reader

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hellomynameisbisexual · 3 years ago

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The B in LGBTQ+ has long been invisible, erased, and maligned, both within the queer community and outside of it. People who identify as bisexual experience attraction to or have had sexual contact with people of more than one gender. However, misconceptions about bisexuals abound, from the ‘they’re just confused’ statements, to the idea that they’d be more likely to cheat on a partner, and the overarching argument that bisexual people don’t actually exist at all — they’re either gay, straight, or lying.

The consequences of these assumptions have a real, quantifiable impact on the mental and physical wellbeing of bi folks. A brief from the Human Rights Campaign showed that bi people face “minority stress,” commonly experienced by stigmatized groups, and have a higher risk of self-harm and attempted suicide than their gay, lesbian, or heterosexual counterparts. The stigma around being bisexual often stops people from coming out, seeking help, and exploring their sexuality. So, let’s parse through what these misconceptions really are, and what we’re getting wrong about bisexuality.

Myth: There’s no such thing as bisexuality.

Reality: More and more, we’re coming to understand sexuality and gender as fluid concepts. The idea that someone must either be attracted to one sex or the other assumes that our preferences are rigid and permanent. So, why put bi people in a box?

While it’s ridiculous that this needs to be said, studies have confirmed that bisexuals exist. Researchers from Northwestern University tested straight, gay, and bisexual men by exposing them to various erotic film clips and measuring their physiological responses, proving that people aren’t ‘just hiding that they’re gay’ or lying about their sexuality when they identify as bisexual. They really are attracted to people of more than one gender. (Of course, if we’re only going to use sexual stimulation as a marker of sexual orientation, a study also found that ‘straight’ women showed signs of physiological arousal when exposed to clips of masturbation, lesbian sex, bonobo chimps — everything except naked men. Hmmm.)

Myth: Only women are bisexual.

Reality: Women are not more naturally predisposed to identifying as bisexual. Rather, the lack of bisexual men who are open about their sexuality is due to the stigma attached to it. Our culture of toxic masculinity doesn’t allow men to explore their sexuality, whereas women have arguably more leeway, since their relationships with each other aren’t seen as a threat to their femininity in the way that such male friendships threaten ‘manliness.’

While 7% of gay men and 4% of lesbians reported that they were not out at work, 49% of bi men said they didn’t feel comfortable coming out, according to the LGBT in Britain – Work Report by Stonewall, an LGBT rights charity based in the UK. Bisexual men are also at a disproportionately higher risk of contracting HIV and other sexually transmitted infections, because stigma and erasure make them less likely to seek medical care. The idea that only women are bisexual, a la some sort of Katy Perry music video fantasy, is not only ridiculous, but also actively harms the health and wellbeing of bisexual men.

Myth: Bisexual people can’t be monogamous/ will cheat on their partners.

Reality: The assumption that bisexual people are attracted to more than one gender and, therefore, won’t be able to stay in a monogamous relationship, or will cheat on their partners, just isn’t true. A 10-year longitudinal study, published in Developmental Psychology, found that 89% of the bisexual women studied were in long-term, monogamous relationships. The mere fact that someone is attracted to men, women, and gender non-conforming people, doesn’t mean they’re more likely to cheat or sleep with someone else; neither does it mean they’ll always be faithful. The likelihood that a bi person will cheat on a partner is the same as a straight person — it depends on the individual.

Myth: Bisexuals are transphobic.

Reality: Being bisexual doesn’t imply that a person is only attracted to two genders, it simply means that a person isn’t only attracted to the opposite gender. People might assume that bisexuals subscribe to the gender binary of either man or woman, but in actuality, bisexuals may be attracted to cis people, non-binary, gender non-conforming, and trans folks as well. In order to clarify this, people may also use the term ‘bi+’ to indicate that they’re attracted to more than just two genders.

Myth: Bisexuals face less stigma.

Reality: Bisexual people, if in a relationship with someone of the opposite gender, have the ability to ‘pass’ as heterosexuals. Because of this, they’re often told that they face less stigma than a queer person, who often has no choice but to be out about their identity in order to have a relationship. And data from the Pew Research Centre shows that 84% of self-identified bisexuals are in a relationship with someone of the opposite gender. But this isn’t a cop out — it might be more likely for bi folks to find straight partners, because they are the majority of the population.

However, being with a heterosexual person does not invalidate a bisexual person’s sexuality. And the risks have been well documented — bi people are at higher risks for experiencing mental health issues like anxiety, depression, substance abuse, as well as heart disease, cancer, and STIs. This is directly because of the stigma and simultaneous erasure and invisibility that they face. And if we don’t start combatting some of our assumptions, bi folks will continue to be affected by them.

These misconceptions about bisexuality are directly impacting people’s mental and physical health, causing them to feel isolated and delegitimizing an integral part of their identity. Only when we start breaking down these myths for what they really are — myths — can we begin the work of reversing the years of bi-erasure and fully accepting the B in LGBTQ+.

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honorhearted · 2 years ago

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Wanker?

Ben bit his cheek to hide a smile, wholly unaccustomed to hearing such crass words from a feminine tongue. "If this is how you speak of Colonel Hamilton behind closed doors, I shudder to think how you must speak of me, madam," he quipped. "But no, I can't say you were wrong in your assessment -- pride and tempers run hot in this camp."

He frowned at Peggy's reference to "his Arnold" -- was she implying he was using flattery to pull ahead?

Choosing to ignore the potential barb, Ben shrugged and said, "Heroes often have large vanities. Or rather, all the accolades have an unfortunate tendency to go to one's head. Arnold isn't so bad..."

He'd complimented Samuel. He spoke of his valor and revered him as a superior soldier, and as far as Ben was concerned, that brought Arnold out of the running for any criticism.

"I-- I know. You have quite an impressive record."

The corner of Ben's mouth quirked, and for just a moment, he was overcome by the urge to tease her -- to perhaps even ask Peggy to repeat herself -- but then she claimed their target was far worse than Gamble or Simcoe.

"Not possible," Ben snapped. Fury licked within his veins akin to a white-hot flame. The mention of those men never failed to incense him, and attempting to tamp down his passions, he irritably fiddled with the saber at his hip, his thumb rolling over the pommel again and again. "Even if Witlow has managed to detect six agents, he has not detected mine. The ring is secure."

Nevertheless, he couldn't deny a sickly sensation of dread taking root in his stomach. What if it wasn't secure? What if the man captured, tortured and killed his dearest friends?

Paling at the thought, Ben rolled his lips inward and scowled down at the ground. "What's the plan then, exactly?" he asked. "Are we to pose as bait? To place a shoddy, amateur drop-off or piece of faulty intelligence to lure him into our vicinity?"

Although he could appreciate Peggy's attempts at levity, all he could truly focus on was the exact scope of damage she claimed. "Six whole colonies?" Ben repeated, his mouth agape. "What in God's name type of weapon could do that?"

It didn't make any sense...it wasn't logical. While he was assuredly a fan of technological advancement, something that powerful was too close to playing God.

Retrieving a scroll, Peggy unrolled the parchment and shared with him that the weapon was a mere orb.

"That is what's so volatile?" Ben asked, incredulous. "Madam, I just don't know..." She spoke then of being the one to handle it, and he drew back to regard her, immediately shaking his head. "No," he denied. "If this can truly obliterate six colonies at once, why would you put your life on the line? Is there...?" He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "Could we possibly pitch it into the sea? Would that stop it?"

"Oh?" The veneer of astonishment is newly waxed and polished as Peggy permits a brow to arch. Her heart flutters like the pages of a splayed open book under the influence of the wind. "I must confess, I am flattered." Scarlet painted lips sprawl into an incorrigible grin in spite of her efforts to tamp it down. "Y-- You heard about that?" Her cheeks singe red. "I can assure you, the bloody wanker deserved a proper dressing-down." Unabashed in her continuance, she prods. "Is he always such a tactless slug? Or was his buffoonery an act that he only furnishes in the presence of feminine company? And your Arnold--what's his deal? A larger ego I have not discovered in all of the colonies. I was led to understand that he was some kind of -- hero--" Yet, having graced the man's company for even five minutes, she has determined, quite satisfactorily, that he is a disdainful sort."

A twinkle of amusement casts across Peggy's dark eyes. "Ah yes. It would be unwise to gift me cause to change my mind." She pauses. "Su-- surprised? How? Were you under the impression that I am some feckless assassin?" Sure the title of Agent could intersect.

Her fingers hesitate at his affirmation of experience. "I-- I know. You have quite an impressive record." Of course, having examined both files from the rebels and from their own intelligencers, Peggy finds herself with quite an impression. Though the black inked words on a page do seem to pallor in comparison to the actual man himself. "This man's already detected and murdered six agents. He makes that Left-Tennant Gamble, Colonel Simcoe, and your Swamp Fox appear to be a nursery rhymes." Okay. So Carter has never brushed shoulders with any of those enigmas, but she has heard many of the stories.

Tallmadge's hushed utterance causes a rumble of laughter to race through her. "With your primitive customs? I would beg to differ. Besides, who do you think taught the colonist to ---use-- forks instead of their fingers?" Grinning, she murmurs, "even still, you must be careful."

Peg nods with more understanding than she wishes she had. Her decidedly male superiors had left her out of the loop on most of the discussions. Especially, since Thompson determined her only real use should be the serve him coffee and lunch. "Your criticisms are not unduly merited." Comes her hushed concession. "You see, we're both endangered if Colonel Witlow's weapons hit the colonies. Even my friend, Stark's technology, as destructive as it is, is not capable of leveling six colonies at a time." Why the King had commissioned Witlow's assistance of Clinton escapes Carter. She signed on to SAVE lives, not take them. It is why she had agreed to cooperate with the Major anyways. Though she would be loathe to admit it, she was growing more fond of rebels like Tallmadge.

Still, she unfurls a series of parchments from her pocket. Papers she had stolen off of her fellow agent. "This is the weapon we're looking for. A spherical orb...." Peggy points. "It must be handled with care as the chemicals it's comprised of are highly volatile." She pauses, willing Ben to look it over with her. "Which is why, if we discover it, I should handle it. I don't want to place you into any more danger than you may already be in...."

#timeguardians #to keep up one's appearance #long post tw

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