#that it makes me examine other male leads more closely

[majicmarker]

been watching a lot of romcoms lately to prep for book 3 and man i really cannot believe some of these couples we’re supposed to root for

[longing-for-rain]

Katara and Mutuality in Relationships

There are lots of conflicting opinions about which characters Katara felt attraction towards, which characters she didn’t, and how long she felt that attraction. I see in most cases, people point to quick clips of her faintly blushing or kissing another character on the cheek as evidence, but I think these kind of takes miss the nuance of the purpose attraction serves in a story.

Most importantly, I see these characters treated as if they are actually people capable of making their own decisions. It’s important to remember that these are fictional characters. They don’t make their own choices; the writers make their choices for them for the purpose of telling a story. From that standpoint, it’s more valuable to examine how a character’s story and narrative themes tie into their relationships with other characters. Animators can shove in a kiss or a blush wherever they want, but it’s harder to demonstrate through storytelling how and why two characters might feel attraction towards one another, and how a relationship between them would develop both characters and contribute to the overarching themes of the story.

In other words, when discussing which characters Katara is “attracted” to, I’m discussing which relationships and actions within the narrative build on her established story and arc. Romance is always integrated into a story for a reason, and considering that reason is important.

Unfortunately, ATLA is very much a product of its time in this way. It’s easy to see what romance adds to the arcs of the male characters—but not so much with the female characters. All three canon relationships (kataang, sukka, and maiko) follow this trend to some degree. The primary purpose of the woman in this narrative is to act as a prize for the man for performing some good deed. Once they’re together, she ceases having her own motivations and becomes an extension of the male character she’s dating. This is pretty blatant with Suki—she barely had a personality in that later seasons; she is there to be Sokka’s girlfriend. Similarly, Katara becomes a completely different character—she’s even animated differently—when the narrative pushes her into romantic scenes with Aang. Her character is flattened.

So what is Katara’s arc, and how do the romantic interactions she has throughout the series contribute to this?

Well, that could be a whole other essay itself, but to put it simply, Katara’s arc is one of a young girl devastated by grief at a young age clinging to hope that she has the power to fight and change the world for the better. Which she does as she gains power and confidence throughout the series—culminating in her defeating Azula in the finale.

But the part I want to focus on here is how Katara connects with other characters. She connects with them over shared experiences of grief and loss.

Take Haru, for instance.

Haru: After the attack, they rounded up my father and every other earthbender, and took them away. We haven't seen them since.

Katara: So that's why you hide your earthbending.

Haru: Yeah. Problem is…the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Katara: See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Haru: It’s beautiful.

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

Haru: It’s not enough, is it?

Katara: No.

This isn’t just a throwaway moment; it’s an important character moment that leads up to growth and the progression of Katara’s overall story, both in this individual episode and in the whole series.

Katara finds her power in the connections she’s able to make with other characters. It’s a powerful driving force for her that makes her a strong character even before her bending abilities develop. Imprisoned was such an important episode to establish who Katara is and what her power is, and adds so much to her arc.

But there is one line in particular from the above exchange that also stands out: Haru says “it’s not enough, is it?” and Katara agrees. Even this early in the series, we’re establishing the fact that despite her drive and hopeful outlook, Katara feels deeply hurt, she feels a deep sense of loss that she opens up about to other characters in moments like these. But unlike Haru…Katara can’t go rescue her mother. Her mother is dead, and we see her grapple with that grief throughout the series.

Another character she reaches out to like this is Jet.

Jet: Longshot over there? His town got burned down by the Fire Nation. And we found The Duke trying to steal our food. I don't think he ever really had a home.

Katara: What about you?

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Jet: I’m so sorry, Katara.

Another important note about Jet is that there are explicit romantic feelings from Katara in this episode. Again, Katara empathizes with another character through a shared sense of loss. Sadly, in this case, Jet manipulated her feelings and tricked her into helping in his plot to flood the village…but those feelings were undeniably there.

That was the tragedy in this episode, but it also gives the audience so much information about Katara as a character: what motivates her, and what she wants. Katara is established as a character who wants someone who will connect with her and empathize with her over her loss—her greatest sense of trauma. She wants to help others but also receive support in return. The reason why she was smitten with Jet, beyond just initial attraction, is because he gave her a sense of that before Katara realized his true motivations.

A lot of people make the claim that Aang is good for Katara because he also feels a sense of great loss and trauma. And while on paper that’s true…does he really demonstrate that? I just gave two examples of characters Katara connected with this way, and both responded with deep empathy to what she said. Very early on in the show—the third episode—Katara attempts to connect with Aang the same way. How does he respond?

Katara: Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.

Aang: What about 'em?

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

Aang: Just because no one has seen an airbender, doesn't mean the Fire Nation killed them all. They probably escaped!

Just compare this exchange to Haru and Jet. No effort to empathize, not even a “sorry for your loss” or anything. It’s a stark contrast, and the reason for that is because this narrative entirely centers Aang. Katara’s narrative always seems to be secondary to his when they’re together—which is exactly my point when I say this relationship has a fundamental lack of mutuality. It’s built that way from the beginning of the series. It does not add to Katara’s arc nor establish what about this dynamic would attract her.

And, look, before someone jumps down my throat about this…I’m not saying Aang is a horrible person for this response. I think it’s a sign that he’s immature and has a fundamentally different approach to problems than Katara. Katara is a character who has been forced to take on responsibilities beyond her years due to being a child of a war-torn world. Aang’s approach to problems is avoidance while Katara never had that luxury. It doesn’t mesh well.

This is all in Book 1. I honestly could have gotten on board with Kataang if the series meaningfully addressed these issues…but it didn’t. In fact, they actually got worse in some ways.

Back to Katara’s mother. We’ve established that this is a core part of Katara’s character and like in the scene with Haru, she indicates that this is an unresolved issue that pains her. But then, in Book 3, Katara actually does get a chance to confront this pain.

This would have been a powerful moment. Surely the character who is meant to be her partner, her equal, would have been there for her. Surely he would have understood and supported her, fulfilling her narrative and adding to her story.

But Aang didn’t do that. I won’t go into details because there are a million analyses out there on The Southern Raiders, but Aang’s response to Katara was the opposite of understanding. He got angry with her, insinuated that she was a monster for wanting revenge, and tried to dictate her behavior according to his own moral values. And importantly, from a narrative standpoint, he did not go with Katara. One of the most important events in her arc, and Aang didn’t support her—he actually tried stopping her. He didn’t contribute to her growth and development.

Also noteworthy:

Katara: But I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.

Even at the end of the episode, Aang clearly doesn’t understand at all what Katara is feeling. This line demonstrates it perfectly. He thinks she forgave him when that wasn’t the case at all…but of course, he didn’t even accompany her, so he didn’t see what actually took place. His worldview is fundamentally different from hers, and he’s consistently too rigid in his morality and immature to center Katara’s feelings.

Throughout Katara’s whole arc, her most significant character moments, Aang’s character just doesn’t come through the way Katara’s constantly does for him. Their narrative lacks mutuality. When Katara and Aang are together, she becomes an accessory to him. The ending scene is a perfect demonstration of this.

Now, to address the elephant in the room.

Which character does actually add to Katara’s narrative and support her growth as a character?

Correct! I just talked about how important The Southern Raiders is to Katara’s character and story, how it’s a chance for her to finally address the grief she’s been carrying since Book 1. And who stood by her side throughout this pivotal moment? Right—Zuko did.

You can talk all you want about how he’s a “colonizer” while Aang’s people suffered genocide, but you’re forgetting that “show, don’t tell” is one of the most basic aspects of storytelling. The fact is, despite how it looks on paper, Zuko was the one there for Katara at her critical moments. Zuko empathized with Katara more than Aang ever did—as demonstrated in this episode. Zuko never once brought up his own cultural values. Zuko never once told Katara what to do. Zuko’s position was that Katara should be the one to decide, and that he would support any choice she made. He supported her decision to spare Yon Rha, but he would have also supported her if she decided to kill him. I actually found this episode to be a satisfying reversal to what is typically seen in TV—for once, the female character is centered while her male counterpart takes the backseat and becomes a supporting role to her narrative.

Even before this, Zuko is shown to empathize with Katara.

Zuko: I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common.

I think what gets me about this scene is the fact that he’s still Katara’s enemy, and she was just yelling about how she hates him and his people. But despite that, Zuko still empathizes with Katara. She is fundamentally human to him, and he expresses that to her in a way that allows them to connect. Zuko stands to gain nothing from this. It’s true that Azula entered the picture and twisted things around—but in this moment, Zuko’s compassion is genuine. His instinct was to respond to her grief with empathy, just like she consistently does for other characters.

And finally, how else does Zuko add to Katara’s arc?

I don’t think there is any more perfect of an example than the finale itself—the culmination of the arcs and development of all characters.

Zuko and Katara fight together. In a heartbeat, Zuko asks Katara to fight by his side against Azula, because he trusts her strength. She’s his equal—both in his mind, and in a narrative sense.

Then, this:

Both of their roles are so critical in this fight. They both save each other. The scene has such raw emotion to it. These characters were together at the conclusion of their respective arcs for a reason.

This is the perfect conclusion to Katara’s arc. She just played a critical role in ending the war that has caused her trauma her whole life. She just demonstrated her mastery of waterbending (another thing she’s dreamed of throughout the series) by defeating the world’s most powerful firebender during Sozin’s Comet. Even though she had help as all characters do, these are victories that belong to her and demonstrate the growth and power of her character. And to top it all off? She was able to save Zuko’s life. She didn’t have to endure the pain of feeling helpless to do anything while someone else died for her; this time, she had an active role, she changed her fate, and she prevailed. Zuko plays an important role in Katara’s story without dominating it. They perfectly represent mutuality. They add to each other’s stories. Their narratives become stronger when they’re together, without one diminishing or sidelining the other.

So, from that standpoint, that’s why I always see the attraction between Zuko and Katara and why I see it lacking between Aang and Katara. Zuko and Katara’s story doesn’t need some cheap little throwaway moments to shine. It’s integral to both characters’ stories. We are shown not told of the way these characters feel about each other. Given everything we know about Katara, her goals, her values, her past loves…absolutely everything points to Zuko being the true subject of her feelings.

Because let’s be honest. The ending I just described is so much more powerful and so much more Katara than seeing her being relegated back to a doe-eyed love interest for Aang to kiss. It hardly even made sense—Katara played no role at all at the culmination of Aang’s arc. She was relegated back to a love interest, rather than the powerful figure we saw fight alongside Zuko.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part XII

Word count: 2200+

Warnings: fighting, swearing, burns, SA, blood

Autumn themed divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part XI | Part XIII

Your heart stopped at the sound of voice that followed you day and night, especially at nights, and then raced up. Another kind of tears filled your eyes and your teeth started chattering with fear. You didn't want to admit that sometimes you heard the echo of his laughter in the hallways, nor that his face terrorised you in the dreams. Because if you admitted it to yourself, you wouldn't even be able to leave the bedroom. You forbade yourself to think about it, but the horrors you experienced didn't disappear so easily, they just moved into your subconscious, lurking around in your most vulnerable moments. You wished this was one of them. You didn't want to see it but you had to. You slowly looked up to place where the voice came from. This time it really wasn't just your imagination, it was real.

The red head, Volkan, stood there with a mocking, cruel smile on lips, blocking your only escape route and for a short moment you were back in a room carved in stone. You were completely paralysed. He looked just like back then, the resemblance to his brothers undeniable now that you could see him clearly in the daylight. New was only a scar stretching from the temple to the corner of his mouth on the left side of his face.

And he wasn't alone. Behind him, near the door, arrogantly stood the other male, Lord Nail with a long sword attached to his back. He was waiting for you to give him your full attention. As soon as he had it, with one-sided grin he ran his hand over the lock and part of the door frame. The metal sizzled and melted. There was no escape from here, only a long, unsurvivable fall down.

"You even can't imagine how glad I am to meet you again," Volkan draw your attention back to him. "Last time we were interrupted in the best, unfortunately, but that won't happen again. I'm not done with you yet." His eyes slid down to your chest and then to the hem of your skirt and he licked his lower lip. You felt bile raising in your throat, instantly dirty solely from the way he gazed at you. He moved, slowly heading to you, that disgusting smile widening.

You internally screamed at your body to move, pleaded with any forgotten god who was willing to listen to send you help. A sob of relief escaped you as you legs and arms finally moved and you crawled backward, away from him.

He bursted out laughing. "Stupid woman. You can't escape me. Look around! The only way leads head first down. I doubt you could survive that, but we will test it soon, anyway." He wasn't in hurry, playing with you like cat with frightened mouse. He was enjoying this kind of situation, the power he had over you, the terror he evoked in you.

"Hewn City really brings up dumb women good for only one thing," Nail chuckled slyly, stepping closer, his dark eyes gleamed with lust. You felt sick. "Pity that this one have to die. I like quiet ones. It's much more fun to make them scream. Maybe we could get more of such like her when you become High Lord. What do you think?

"That's actually pretty good idea, but this one is mine," Volkan snarled. "You watch the door! That circus trick of yours can stop her but not my brothers. I don't wish to be disturbed this time."

Nail huffed discontent, but did as he was told. He was so ready to enjoy even watching though. You could feel it in his gazed that roamed over your body.

Meanwhile you managed to get up to your shaky feet, keeping the distance.

"You have quite a stamina," he started circling you like a wolf, closing on you. "I like that. It's pity I can't keep you. I'd love to examine it in detail. The look on Eris's face would be priceless."

"St-stay away," you stuttered. Your heart was about to explode. You had never been so scared in your entire life. You were so stupid. If only you hadn't come up here. If only you stayed with Eris, this wouldn't happen.

And Eris.. Your dear husband. You would give anything to see him one more time. To have a chance to apologize for your behaviour. To hold his big, warm hand. To see his beautiful boyish smile. To hear his deep voice.

No! You didn't want to end up like this. You couldn't give up yet, you had to fight. You rushed to the battlements, readying to shout at the top of your lungs for help. Hopefully someone would hear you. However, your mouth filled with smoke and you were choking on it, unable to breathe.

"Tsk, tsk. Forget that! I won't let you shriek for help." Volkan used the moment and lunged for you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and throat from behind. He easily dragged you to battlements on the other side where nobody could see you, and pushed your upper body down on the cold stone. You were trashing and kicking, trying to break away from him. It was useless. He was too strong.

"Let's proceed," he hissed to your ear as he pushed your legs apart with his. His breath caressed your face and for a moment everything went dark.

"Don't worry. It'll look like a suicide. Can you imagine what will people say about him? Less than a year after the wedding and he already drove his wife to commit suicide. It'll be fun."

You felt sick to your stomach. You couldn't do that to Eris. You didn't want him to suffer any more. You pushed with all your strength against the stone.

"But before I kill you," his body was holding you down with ease while his hand started to pull your skirts up. "I want to hear you crying out my name, bitch."

Still choking on smoke, you couldn't scream, you couldn't do anything. Hot tears slid down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes closed and thought of only person who ever cared for you. Your Eris. You screamed his name in your mind as cold breeze touched your thighs.

In the same second the door melted into a puddle on the ground and your husband stepped from the shadows of staircase. You immediately felt his presence even though you didn't see him and sobbed in relief.

Nair cursed, but before he could do anything, a ball of fire hit him and lifted him off of his feet high into the air and above the battlement. With an ear-splitting roar, he fell from the tower.

Eris didn't even blink, his gaze trained on Volkan's hand on your thigh, just few inches from your butt. Liquid fire swirled in his amber eyes and he burst in flames.

"Hands off of my wife!" He snarled lowly, the sound so dangerous and raw coming from the depths of his chest that you shivered with fear and got goosebumps all over your body.

The smoke disappeared and you finally could breathe. You never thought that there would be a time when you would be so excited that you could take a lungful of air. There was only one thing that made you even happier than lungs full of fresh air.

He came.

Despite the fact that only a few minutes ago he was so upset with you, Eris came looking for you.

However Volkan wasn't ready to give up so easily. He grabbed you, pulling you up on your legs once again. Your back bumped into his broad chest while you had to balance on your tiptoes and something sharp and cold pressed against your throat. You gasped and froze, eyes widening in horror. It was a dagger, the first drops of warm blood already rolling down your skin.

Eris gritted his teeth and flames disappeared in a puff of smoke, his eyes jumping between you, the dagger and the redhead.

"That's it, brother," Volkan growled. "Don't try anything or I'll cut open that pretty neck of hers. And you know I'll do it."

"Let her go. She has nothing to do with this. It's only between you and me."

"Look at you! How low you have sunk. You not only brought this dirt to our Court, you are in love with her."

"Shut up!"

"How pathetic," Volkan laughed, changing the angle of dagger, so now it pointed under your chin. You tilted head back, trying to get as far from the sharp tip as possible. "Is she so good in bed or she used some dirty tricks to get here? Your coupling with this whore from Night Court has weakened you. I'm sure he got into your head with her help and uses you like a puppet."

"Do you even listen yourself?" Eris spattered. You'd never seen him so angry. His skin seemed to thin and you could see flames swirling under it. He was seemingly cool, calm, collected, calculating, nothing could break his focus. And his eyes.. Those amber orbs alone could kill. "No one can control me!"

"No? Really? To your knees," Volkan ordered.

When Eris didn't move, he pressed down on the dagger and more of the warm wetness ran down your neck and chest. You whimpered quietly. Eris's eyes shot to you. Your gazes locked and for a second you caught a glimpse of pain deep inside them. For some reason this was hurting him more than you.

Muscle ticked in his jaw and he reluctantly knelt down. Volkan started to laugh so badly that his head fell back. And that was a mistake.

That was your only chance. You didn't have time to think it over. You elbowed him in the left side as hard as you could. He didn't expect it. His grip on you loosened as he pulled arm that was holding you in place, to his sore ribs and you twisted to the side, dancing away from his reach.

Eris was immediately on his feet and his fist connected with Volkan's jaw with such strength that his head flew back.

His brother staggered but swung the dagger, managing to cut front of Eris's shirt and scratch his chest.

Eris caught his arm with dagger, the other hand landed on his throat. The air filled with a smell of burnt meat. Columns of smoke began to rise from under his hands and Volkan opened mouth in a silent scream, flames shot from his insides and his eyes. It was a horrible sight. Thankfully it took just a second and before your eyes he turned into ashes carried away by the wind.

As the relief that the nightmare was finally over, spread in your chest, you noticed something else. You again couldn't breathe. Your mouth filled with blood, the front of your dress was already soaked in it. He didn't cut you that much or he did?

Your knees buckled and you began to fall to the ground. Eris's arms wrapped around you, slowing down your fall. He carefully pulled you into his lap, his face contorted in pain and rage, his amber eyes filled with silver tears. He pressed a trembling palm to the long cut across your neck, trying to stop the bleeding. It must have happened when you elbowed Volkan, but because of the adrenaline you didn't feel it right away.

"No," he sobbed. "No! You have to stay with me. Do you hear me? Stay with me!"

You were making wet squeaking noises as you fought for air. Your eyes found his face in a fading light. You needed to apologize to him. You had to, before it would be late. You couldn't leave like this. You focused on that with your whole being while numbing cold was slowly spreading through your body, the darkness lurking at the edges of your vision. You couldn't feel your legs nor arms anymore. The time was running through your fingers like water, unstoppable.

Eris's hot tears were falling on your face and rolling down your cheeks like your own.

"You can't leave me. Not yet. Not before I-.."his voice broke and he shook his head. "My Y/N.. my sweet mate.. Please, not yet.. Stay with me.."

"E..ri..s.." you wheezed. It was so exhausting to push even so short word through your stiff lips. You desperately needed more air and more time.

The sounds of heavy footsteps filled the air and Killian with a few soldiers and healer at his heels appeared. They were slightly out of breath after running up so many steps.

"Five dead guards and several injured were found. I came as soon as-" Killian halted as he saw you in Eris's lap, the blood seeping between his fingers on your neck.

Eris was shaking wildly with sobs, pressing you to his chest, your eyes never leaving his face despite hardly seeing it. It's been a while since you stopped feeling his touch that was keeping you warm. "It doesn't heal.. Why? This can't be.. My mate is-"

You never learnt what he was about to say because darkness swallowed you suddenly, without warning. The picture of his harrowed expression and damp face was burned into your mind, following you to the nothingness. All your senses shut down at once and you felt as light as feather, floating in a void of space and time.

You didn't make it.

You didn't apologize.

[nonnieapple]

Afk journey, Sinbad, trans male/gender neutral reader, nsfw fanfiction. (I love this man very much)🤍

⛈️☂️Hook, Line, and Sinker☂️⛈️

• (Sinbad x trans!male!Reader)

• r a t i n g: e x p l i c i t • 4 1 4 0 w o r d s

• p o s t e d: 01.11.2024🌧️ navigation

n o t e: sinbad is so hot, i wish men were real :( s u m m a r y: sinbad walks in at the worst possible time, and the following events complicate your relationship further.

It was nearing night, and the hamsters were fast asleep as well as most guests of the inn. 

  When Sinbad walked into your room, you were staring out of the window with a wistful look, like the look his mothers had when they gazed out at the sea, remembering their husbands, lost forever to the fog and unrelenting waves. He wondered who you longed after, if anyone. Maybe you longed for home. Or for something he couldn't possibly imagine. 

  Before he closed the door, you broke the silence. 

  "You dare disturb my rest?"

  Even turned away, you heard him. Your voice sent tingles up his leg. The room veered towards cold, the windows open, making the curtains flutter like sails. 

  "You're really living it up in here," Sinbad remarked, inviting himself to sit down on the fancy armchair flanked by another and a couch in the west of your room. 

  He hadn't ever been in it yet, and he was sure you wouldn't mind if he just sprawled out a little, he stretched, his boots hitting the leg of the short table. Lit candles sitting upon golden thrones flickered on it. Two glasses and a bottle were there as well. 

  "As I should, I was to have a vacation, and I'm still getting it, Cedartown or not." You made your way to the couch, your visage somewhat blurry from all the glamour swallowing up your form, the air around you swaying. 

  If he looked at you too long, he could see something was terribly wrong. It was not something anyone could notice at first, or at second sight, only those looking for it might begin to pull at the thread. He stopped examining you. He wasn't sure what he'd find. 

  You were like the fog that had almost killed him- leading him in mental circles until he went mad trying to get himself out of it. 

  Sinbad's leg jerked when you approached. You stood, close, your robe made of small, black, and knitted net. It should've revealed everything you wore under it- instead, everything around your chest and hips darkened and blurred. 

  The magic that wafted off you made his head spin. Or maybe it was that he drank too much. Sinbad sighed shakily as you ghosted your touch over his face, your eyes sharp and inhuman. The next second, they turned warm. 

  "Did you drink that swill again? Here, drink something good for once." 

  He barely caught the bottle you threw into his arms, and he thought, somewhat incredulously, You're too kind.

  But, really, Magister- I don't know what to think of you. One second you wanna kill me and the next you're my savior. 

  I'll never know who you are, will I?

  His eyes skimmed over the label. Dark liquid sloshed within darker green walls. "Woah! Fancy stuff. It's actually red."

  The wine he was used to at most establishments was pale, watered down to save costs. You shrugged. You must've been used to good wine, good food, good people. He envied you. 

  "It's from an... old friend."

  The way you said that with so much hesitance made his heart drop. 

  "They must be rich."

  Sinbad popped open the bottle and poured himself some. He might as well indulge, and your room was a good place to do that. Upon second thought it might be questionable. 

  He had to hold back on drinking. He couldn't afford to do something stupid.

  "Beyond that, and a massive drunkard I could never deny, but as I don't drink I have no use for his gifts." You took up the whole couch, propping up your head with a hand, the other playing idly with the belt of your delicate robe. 

  If he was to be mean, he'd liken you to a fish caught in a net, but he couldn't lie, you were more of a siren. 

  You hummed.

  "I guess I could have a glass."

  You poured yourself nearly half the bottle, and swallowed a third of the glass, drinking like a fish. He struggled not to gawk at you. 

  "Old friend... bet you have plenty of those. Not like it bothers me," he tacked on at the end, scratching at his scalp lightly. 

  The fireplace crackled and sputtered red. Strange, it gave off no warmth. Was it magic? Sheesh, what about you wasn't magic? 

  The rug beneath his boots was sure real, and a real good rug, too. If he were to get piss drunk he'd choose the rug over the street to pass out on. Oh, there were even pillows on the floor. Perfect. 

  "I mean it. We were friends, he isn't an old flame- as far as I know."

  As far as you knew?

  "You sure about that?" He raised a brow. 

  "Quite. Though one actual old flame, I wonder how she's doing. It's been a while, I last saw her in Holistone, it has been months since then. Damn Hogan for sending me on this "vacation", now I'm stuck in the middle of the sea with no idea when I'll see him or Valen. He should've gone with me."

  Pushing aside his slight offense at the Rustport slander, you had mentioned General Hogan and Valen a few times. One was a Magistrate and, guess what, General of Holistone, the other some swashbuckling knight who, as he understood it, was hitting on you. 

  "Well, I'm glad he didn't."

  "Hm? Why is that?" You smirked, your eyes glimmering like the wine you swished in your hand.

  If Sinbad was pale, you would've seen his face lose color in an instant. 

  "I mean- I meant- he would've drowned in his armor, is all! It would've been worse than what happened to Chippy." 

  He drank quickly so he couldn't see your gloating expression.

  "You're holding your glass like you're throttling a neck." 

  Even if he drank and drank, he still heard your voice, and if he plugged his ears, you'd get into his mind, too. 

  He couldn't tell if that was a way to hint at his discomfort or point out his terrible manners. 

  "I'm not much of a wine drinker."

  You, on the other hand, held your glass between your thumb and forefinger ever so lightly. That fucking hand was calling him poor just at a glance. 

  "This better?" He emulated the way you did it, though it was nowhere near as graceful. 

  "Much better. The wine compliments your shirt." 

  The red, satin shirt, an illusion you cast, felt good nonetheless, and the wine was divine. It was bright, just sweet enough, and with a hint of berries and zest. It tasted more like the few fruits he had tried than the usual- as you put it- "swill" he drank. 

  It settled warmly in his chest, with the occasional sour tingle in his cheeks. 

  Sinbad didn't want to leave your room. It was fancy, and more importantly, it had wine AND you. 

  "How've you been?" You said between sips, your expression softening. 

  "Good. I've been spending a lot of time poking around the ship, avoiding going to Brineville so I don't have to explain myself. Things are better than before I met ya, anyway, I can finally do what I want, and... everything's so calm." 

  It was strange to not have to think about every little expense anymore for the village now that no one threatened its safety, and he was essentially a "hero". Sure, he still had to make money somehow and Rustport was as rusty as ever, but so much had been lifted off his shoulders. 

  By you, no less. 

  He'd said he'd repay you. That nagged at his mind sometimes. What could you possibly want? 

  It was nothing to worry about. It wouldn't be worse than what he had gone through. 

  "Planning on leaving soon?" 

  If he wasn't mistaken, he saw you frown ever so slightly. 

  "Not yet. I've got a lot to do here before I leave. What about you?" 

  You threw back your head and let your hair spill over the edge of the couch. 

  "You know, been here and there, helping people as I do, went fishing with my familiars. I like helping people and spending time with them but I do need alone time." 

  That was why the hamsters were in another room. Sinbad had to admit, they were cute and had grown on him. You truly were the most precious thing he had ever found washed up on the beach. He'd be no one without you. 

  "Are you leaving soon?" 

  You shook your head. "I want to stay a bit longer, until you leave, I suppose. I won't have much to do then. I'm dealing with people's problems rather quickly." 

  Of course, you weren't staying only for him. You were busy. 

  "I'm glad you're staying a bit longer." He couldn't imagine being without you now. You were the closest friend he'd had. Everyone wanted something from him, and you had asked for the least, always generous, if quirky. 

  You smiled, returning his giddy expression, which he hadn't noticed himself pull. 

  He felt his face get warmer. Must've been all the wine. 

  He and you listened to the crackling of the fire, finishing your glasses. You lounged like a cat. You were the image of peace when you closed your eyes. He rolled up his sleeves, feeling somewhat hot all of a sudden. He waited for you to kick him out, it'd happen sooner or later.

  You watched from under your lashes. 

  "I was surprised that you had tattoos, though they are common here," you said. 

  He had helm tattoos on each forearm. "Funny story, I got them when I was drunk, like, extremely. I don't remember where or how exactly I got them." At least they healed fine and he had not felt much pain. He hadn't felt much at all.

  "They suit you well." Your eyes lingered for a while. 

  "I have more that you haven't seen." He smirked, putting on that smooth-talking persona again. 

  "Although tempting, you won't smooth-talk me, Sinbad," you said sternly. 

  He sighed. A guy had to try. You were so damn hard to scam and trick, it was annoying. You were one of the only people immune to his charms. You were looking at him like he was a helpless animal. Again. 

  Instead of words of pity, he was hit with: 

  "You look upset. Mope in another room, I'm exhausted," you said, yawning and turning away from him unceremoniously. 

  He left with a huff. 

  "Good night to you too, Magister Merlin." 

  ...

  "Good night." 

  He should've been asleep.

  Sinbad crept across the hall towards your newly luxurious room, careful not to make a sound, like he was escaping from a dungeon (like he had many times). 

  Sinbad cracked open your door. Strange, he left it unlocked, he thought. The room was dark and silent except for the sounds of the breeze coming in through the windows, like breaths.

  You seemed to be asleep, as far as he could tell. He was sure he had heard something from your room. Maybe it had been the wind.

  "Magister?" he said into the black, closing the door behind himself. It was not entirely dark, he noticed as he moved towards your canopy bed, as there was a lone candle burning close to the window. 

  The fireplace had no remains of smoldering wood. 

  The windows- they were closed shut. The sound was not from there. Had it been the draft instead? If this was how noisy the good rooms were, he'd go complain to Bols later. 

  Sinbad pushed past the closed curtains of the canopy bed, the fabric heavy and lush, a velvet he hadn't even dreamed of touching before, with much trepidation, his heart tense, ready for a beast to lunge at him any moment. 

  He didn't see what happened, it happened swiftly, the shape in the bed shifting loudly. The sound of the breeze halted. 

  "Ah, Sinbad. I was just thinking of you," you said, and it was undeniably you, your voice quiet yet clear, a little exasperated, your breathing so shallow he would've believed you if you said you had run around the whole of Rustport in a minute. 

  He would've believed you if you hadn't been in your bed all this time.

  "Why aren't you asleep?" he stammered with wide eyes, gaze lost as he adjusted, making out your fuzzy shape. It was leaner than usual. He sensed none of your usual glamours on you.

  "I could ask the same of you." 

  He leaned his knee on the bed, and you moved away. 

  "Some noise woke me up, and I thought it came from your room. Was I right?" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, seeing that you lay rigid and didn't want him to come near you. To him, it seemed that something had happened, and you were uncooperative as to what. 

  One of his jobs was to get information. Clearly, he wasn't much good at it with you around. 

  "Did something happen, Magister? You're worrying me." His brows lowered over his honey-brown eyes. 

  "You didn't knock. You should leave my room." The light brightened against your face. Your skin was dewy and your hair was disheveled, the bedsheets in disarray. You were a mess. 

  The Merlin, a mess? 

  "I did know- and- you can't kick me out again!" He leaned over you as you leaned against cushiony pillows.

  You pushed on his chest to get him away, your hand hot and humid. 

  "... Are you dense or what?" you snapped. "What do you think I'm doing in a dark room, alone, in my bed, gasping for air?" 

  His face transitioned from bewilderment to horror. 

  Oooh.

  Embarrassment hit him like a wave. Holy Tritonus, he had heard you moaning. In this case, he was dense beyond belief. And the reason you were recoiling wasn't because something was wrong, it was, because, well. He chose the worst possible time to intrude. 

  And the reason your frame seemed leaner now was because you had no glamours concealing your body indeed, and no clothes besides that robe. He could see your bare skin between the fabric you held together with a tense hand. 

  He had trouble not looking. And it wasn't the wine, that had long left his system. 

  "Shit, I... I didn't..."

  He had no excuse, and so close to you, caging you in, neither of you could escape, captured in the world's most awkward stalemate. The words drowned in the depths of his mind.

  "You said you were thinking about me earlier. Do you mean...?" he trailed off, his voice mumbling and strained. Everything felt like a dream. He'd pinch himself if he wasn't frozen. 

  "I left the door open for you. I didn't expect you to come." 

  Sinbad's breathing had accelerated. He had already had thoughts about you. He couldn't possibly resist anything you asked him to do. That hint of servitude remained in him, and he was all eager to please. 

  "I'm here." He tried to smile, but it came out rather strained. 

  You pulled him in by tangling your hands in his freshly dried hair. Your lips were one push away. 

  He had already gotten ready for bed- his skin infused with whatever fancy soaps he managed to snatch this time. It mixed with that woody scent of a faraway home that clung to you no matter how many times you got drenched with rain or seawater. 

  "So?" 

  He felt your every breath. Berries. 

  "So..."

  You kissed him first. 

  You were far from a reserved, shy mage. You nipped at his lip and broke the kiss just to piss him off. 

  He cursed like the sailor he was. Next thing he knew, his boots were lost in the dark along with his scarf (it felt like sacrilege to wear it during this), his shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned by your nimble fingers. You traced over the anchor tattoo between his collarbone and shoulder. 

  That wasn't how he expected you to find it. 

  Your hips were fuller than they appeared, filling him with thoughts he couldn't possibly speak, and your waist was small, perfect for holding when he-

  Your chest wasn't quite... flat. That made him stop. His silent question hung in the air. 

  "I'm trans," you said, amused at how he was surprised by you again and again. You had hidden your chest to a point where he couldn't have guessed. 

  He had never been with someone like you (in any sense), but he didn't mind. 

  Your chest was soft, each breast perfectly fitting into his hand. At each caress and pull you reacted accordingly. It was his turn to be amused, and he was enjoying it immensely. 

  Your face and voice did not falter, the only thing betraying your feelings being your shallow breathing. Would your breaking point be easy to reach, or would he reach his first? 

  Goosebumps raised on your thighs when he felt them up with his calloused fingers. Only the richest of the rich could have pristine hands in Rustport. Sinbad spread your legs with little resistance from you, his hand wrapping around most of your thighs' circumference. 

  His hand dipped between your legs. You were wet, the wetness covering parts of your inner thighs. The hotness ignited a fever in him, a fever he hadn't felt in a long time, and never so strongly. Most of his prior fucks were hookups, and sometimes, to get out of uncomfortable situations in his jobs. They didn't happen often and he hardly looked forward to them. With you, he could hardly stop his hands and other body parts of his from thrusting right into you. You were by far the hottest guy he'd been with.

  At the rough touch on your clit you jolted with a soft sigh, your legs closing on instinct, but they were stopped by Sinbad being in the way. 

  The thought crossed his mind that you were surrounded by others from all sides, and at any second, anyone could walk in. He didn't mind- he liked a bit of danger. 

  "How are you feeling?" he whispered close to your ear, hand exploring all the places that could feel best for you. He would make sure you'd remember this as a positive memory, and even if you left and never saw him again, the scene would stick in your mind.

  "I've been better," you said with a shortness of breath, but impressively coherently.

  "Don't you think this is a bad time for jokes?" Would you still talk like that if he filled you up? Would your face still be so serene? 

  "It's a perfect time for-" he interrupted you as he slid his finger over your clit over and over again, making your legs tremble and your brows lower. He might've not been experienced, but he was a quick learner.

  After he got you to a point where you were panting and your pulse hammered relentlessly, he lowered his finger to your entrance, teasing it. You covered your mouth. A thin string, like fishing line, followed his hand as he withdrew. 

  Sinbad began with one finger, your tight walls even hotter than your wetness. Fuck. It felt amazing on his fingers. It might've made him cum instantly if he tried fucking you like that. 

  "Relax your muscles, there's no need to be tense," he said soothingly. 

  You visibly stopped straining and let him push his finger in fully. It circled your smooth cervix. You were pretty shallow inside. 

  He was clueless at that point, unsure of what to do for you. 

  "Curl your finger towards yourself."

  Now you were the one close to his ear, leaning on his shoulders so he could have better access and less lewd sounds would be heard. 

  When he curled it as you said, he felt a spongy tissue that gave way under his prodding. You bit into his shoulder with little regard for how much that shit hurt. It would leave a mark, or even better, a scar. Yay. One more to the arsenal. He would have a hard time explaining that one, as it was in a visible place between his neck and shoulder muscles. 

  He groaned at the pain, pulling you halfway onto him. One hand of his rubbed your clit, and the other, inside you. You must've been leaving a hickey judging by the slight tingle on his neck. It made him harder than he already was. 

  Feeling every little groove inside and outside you couldn't be replicated by just ramming his dick in, and he thanked you that you had made the choice, since he was unwise- in general. 

  "What would your love-struck Knight think, Magister?" He pressed his lips into your shoulder. Slim, but surprisingly muscled from carrying every situation you got into on your shoulders. 

  You'd look good on top of him. With other people, his mind veered into nonsense and mundane thoughts of what he'd have for breakfast. Right now all he could think about was you, you in every way, in every angle, his. Everyone was right- he was greedy. Just not about money. 

  "Getting fingered by someone you met, what, a month ago? If even that?" Sinbad smirked, making sure you saw his expression. You bit your lip and gazed at him like you were oh so woeful. Would you tell the Knight what you'd done tonight? He didn't care if you did or not, but if you did, Sinbad would've loved like to see his face. 

  "He'd be jealous, I bet," you stuttered out with each thrust and curl of his finger, and when he added a second, you were reduced to adorable huffs and sighs, far from the virtuous Magister Merlin out in Rustport streets, a man of class and poise. A man who was now gasping for air with Sinbad's fingers deep in his cunt.

  He kissed from the swell of your chest, up to your collarbones and neck. You were not a man, not a human, you were a dream, a fog a foolish sailor like him would lose himself in.

  Screw him trying to make you never forget him. He'd never forget you, as he fell for you hook, line, and sinker, a fish falling for bait. He would never find someone like you. Someone who so easily saw through his tricks and had him willingly serve. 

  He could do it every night, sneaking in, fucking you whichever way you wanted him to, and acting like nothing was afoot. 

  You got him. 

  He kept gently fingering you as you gasped in an orgasm, one quite notable, your body going soft against his, your skin sticky and heart pounding. 

   What he had done felt automatic, like his body wasn't entirely his, his rhythm mechanical in nature, following your every whim and whine. He had just gotten you off, willingly, giddily, even, and enjoyed it. 

  That had been a first for him. 

  The first thing you said to him once you regained your breath and composure was: "Go wash your hands." 

  What a sweet way to snap him out of it. 

  It was fortunate that you had a bathroom attached to your bedroom. He didn't feel keen on doing a walk of shame through the halls. 

  The mirror revealed to him how hard you'd bitten him, leaving not only a hefty tooth mark, but even a hickey, too high for his scarf to hide. He cursed you inside his mind. All things considered, it was expected to have him do whatever he wanted to you, not the other way around. If you told him to jump into the sea right this second he probably would've done it. A flush was blooming across his face, not too obvious, but there. 

  You were next in the bathroom, and when you returned, Sinbad was on your bed, grinning. He did not budge a muscle.

  "You're not kicking me out again, Magister. This handsome face needs its beauty sleep." 

  "I'll allow it," you said, tucking yourself in on the other side. Sinbad lay curled to take up as little space as possible. It wasn't exactly comfortable. You neared him, tugging his arms around your back, and you entwined under the thick blanket. 

  Hook, line, and sinker. 

  He didn't want the morning to arrive and so cruelly take you away. He'd savor every moment he had with you. For once in his life, he did not feel bound to you by duty, but by the call of his heart, similar to how he felt about the sea. Like the sea, you'd pull him in, and keep him wallowing in feelings so alien. 

  Did you know what you did to him? He didn't need you to. He just needed you close. 

  "Good night," he said. 

  "Seriously this time?" 

  "Seriously, I promise." 

  The lone candle flickered out.

[aliorsboxostuff]

BROO YOUR MIGUEL X MALE READER FICS ARE SO AAAAGHDHFBSJJFM GOT ME GIGGLIN N SHIT

Can i req for a fic where miguel is wounded and reader has to patch him up? idrc if its smut or fluff either way im eating it

IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR PATCHING UP FICS AHHHH ty anon i’m writing this to be a very soft and fluffy fic, a bit short and a bit of angst sprinkled here but just nice stuff for our big softie Miguel <3

The Wounded

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Miguel O’hara x gn!reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Spider Society, No Smut, Kissing , Fluff, Reader is a sunshine, Soft!Miguel, Established relationship, patching up, healing fic, non-graphic description of wounds, mentions of blood and cuts 

Another day of being Spiderman leads to another wound that's a bit too hard for the healing factor to take care of. Luckily, Miguel lets you take care of his wounds

—

Being Spiderman requires an understanding of basic procedures. Including knowing what to do when you run out of web fluids and are falling between buildings, or when you're healing factor just doesn't work fast enough.

You were looking into improving your web shooters, deep in your part of the lab, stacks of books and tech strewn about, when your wrist suddenly beeps. The sound snaps you out of your focus trance and you quickly pull it up to display the hologram. 

Lyla pops up, you can see anxiety behind her tinted glasses. “Hey cutie, sorry to interrupt your work hours but uh…” She glitches. “I think you might wanna check on Miguel,” 

“What? What's wrong with him?” You were already clicking back the shooter you were examining and standing from your seat, making your way to the exit doors. 

“Today’s mission went a bit… Messy. Infirmary is packed full right now and he’s resisting the help-” 

“Can you send him to our room instead?”

“Already on it,” She nods, and a screen appears in front of her. “He’s stable right now, but he’d appreciate the help, especially on the stomach wound,”

“Shit…” You muttered before flicking your wrist which makes the Lyla disappears. You quickly leap off of the walkway, swinging above the other Spider-people. As you shoot out another web, you swing past the doors to the infirmary, seeing Spider-people going in and out of the room. Your stomach drops. Knowing Miguel, he would've sent the others to treat their injuries there while he excuses himself, always with his excuses. His own ego doesn't let him be seen as weak in front of others, and you're the only exception.

After swinging past more walkways, you finally made your way to Miguel's office, quickly running into the side room where you and Miguel rest. 

“Miguel?” You knocked twice on the door, hearing a low groan from him. “I’m coming in,”

You push the door to Miguel on the floor, supporting his upper body on the edge of the bed. Your eyes widen, quickly moving to his side, dropping to the floor next to him. Your hands cup his jaws, turning him towards you. “Miguel? Hey, it’s me, hey,” 

His breath is labored, eyes flashing as he blinks rapidly before he finally registers your appearance when he glances at you. Miguel growls, holding one side while his other arm claws at the sheets. “You dont… need to help…”

“Yes I fucking do.” You stare him down before slowly bringing your hands to remove the one holding at his side. It reveals a long cut, from his hip to his middle, dangerously close to his stomach. If whoever attacked him angled their weapon just right, it would’ve struck his- “Okay, alright let’s get you on the bed,”

With your super strength, moving Miguel to lie down on the bed wasn't a hassle. Miguel grunts as he’s set on the bed, still holding at the gaping wound. You quickly run into the ensuite bathroom, grab the emergency kit from the cabinet and run right back, dropping down beside you’re groaning boyfriend. Opening the case, it has the necessary supplies you need. You swiftly pull off your mask and gloves, coaxing Miguel to remove his hands.

“Lyla disable the top part of Miguel’s suit.” The suit glitches away. The cut doesn't seem too deep to penetrate fat, therefore it won't need stitches, but a hand full of butterfly plasters and a good wrap of bandages. You pull and bundle up the blanket, pushing it beneath Miguel's hand. 

“Hold this babe, I’m going to get a wet towel,” Miguel nods.

You quickly run into the bathroom again, grabbing the two towels that were hung and running them under the tap, making sure they're soaked. You twist them, enough to get excess water out and run straight back to your boyfriend. Carefully, you remove the blanket and his hand, before beginning to clean the cut, patting around it with the damp towel. Miguel hisses, biting down on his fist, which worries you. 

“Here, don't hurt yourself,” You try a small smile, relief to see Miguel’s eye roll as a response. You hand him one of the pillows so he doesn't inject himself with his paralyzing venom. Once you are he’s safe, you continue your cleaning. The towel has been successfully covered in blood, but the cut is now clean and oozing fresh blood instead. You quickly grab a pair of tweezers and a ball of cotton, putting enough Betadine to coat the ball before pressing it against the edges of the wound. 

Miguel growls on top of you, arching his back which pushes him to recline his head, his claws dig into the mattress, no doubt his fangs have punctured the pillow. You deflate, knowing how much it’s hurting him. “I know, I’m sorry, but it’ll be done soon Miguel,”

You can already see the sweat forming on his temple when you're finally done addressing the cut with betadine. You throw the cotton balls away, looking into the box for butterfly bandaids. Spotting them, you pull enough out and also a couple of rolls of bandages. You place the bandaids in a row, making sure they're secured around the wound, closing the gaps before it could make a larger gash. Once the band-aids are placed, you sit back on your haunches, satisfied with your work. You dab the blood that escaped before you closed the wound with a clean part of the towel, happy now that the wound is finally clean and closed.

“Okay, it’s done. I’m going to wrap it up now babe, sit up,” You help Miguel to lean against you, his head on your shoulder so your hands are free to wrap the bandages around his middle. He groans, burying himself in the crook of your neck, the pillow thrown somewhere in the room. 

Steadily, you begin wrapping the bandage around him, making sure it isn't too tight or too loose. The first few layers were stained with blood residue until the bandage was wrapped thick enough to show nothing. Cutting the end of the bandage with the scissors provided, you tie it up snugly before carefully moving Miguel to lean on the headboard, a propped-up pillow to support his back. 

“There. Not too tight right?” He shakes his head, winching a bit. Your brows crease. You stand, grabbing the stray mug on the nightstand before heading to the bathroom, and filling the mug with water. You come back and hand the cup to Miguel, before popping a couple pills of painkillers on your palm and pushing it to your boyfriend. He eyes them skeptically. “I know the super healing will take care of most of it, but that’ll help. Drink.” 

Miguel huffs, taking the pills and gulping them down with water. He set the mug aside, refusing to meet your eyes. You sigh, slowly taking his hand to entwine with yours, brushing his bruised knuckles. “Can I see the other ones, Miguel?”

“I’ll be fine, the others will heal,”

You sigh, tracing circles on his knuckles. His eyes are far away, staring out into Nueva York from the room's large windows. The sun has started to set, flooding the room with a hue of orange and hints of violet. Miguel refuses to meet you, knowing your eyes will be filled with worry and guilt, knowing you weren't there for Miguel in his mission. Miguel was the one who insisted that for you to stay in the HC, working on your latest upgrade, but he knew how dangerous today's mission was supposed to be, and he couldn't see you get hurt the way he did. 

Miguel softly grasps your hand, tightening your loose hold. Your eyes widen, raising your head to meet his eyes, gleaming in the burning sky. His usual stoic profile fades into something softer, something more sincere. He brings your hand towards him, effectively pulling you up to sit on the edge of the bed, and places a soft kiss on the back of your hand. 

“Thank you,” He manages, shakily. “For patching me up,”

You smile, and a relieved sigh follows as you scoot closer to him. Your free hand cups his jaw slowly as you lean closer. His lips brush yours. Miguel sighs, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, and you obliged. Your hand brushes the curls behind his head, smiling at the feeling of your boyfriend surviving another day of being Spiderman. When you two pull back, you stay closer by pressing your crown against his, panting from the kiss, but relief nonetheless. You grin, feeling your boyfriend's warm breath, before stealing another short peck. “I’m going to get you food,”

With that, Miguel sighs but nods, letting your hand go. You smile fondly, getting up to leave the room and get your boyfriend something to help his healing factor. 

Requests are opened!

reblogs appreciated!!

[shijiujun]

WHY YOU CAN TRY WATCHING YUAN ZUI 原罪 Original Sin (2024)

Okay I've watched up to 20 episodes (out of 25 I think) and can say that this is a mild, low-level rec — just for people who MIGHT be interested in it, and don't have too much expectations on script etc. Off the cuff, it's very SCI-esque production but with slightly worse lines and acting (I'll explain later) BUT the filming visuals aren't bad, main characters are cute, and the cases objectively are pretty okay. My two cents is - if you're bored and looking to just pass the time, you could watch this, but if not, you won't be losing out on much either, but it's worth a try.

IN GENERAL

It passes as a detective drama - to be very fair, they've really tried their best to do a detective drama properly with the hints, the process, the autopsies, the high management police relations, some spy work, some vulnerabilities, some teamwork, some misunderstandings and arguments, some backstory and some PTSD < they've got all the makings of a good show, plus Wang Haoxuan and Chen Huan the two main leads are nice to look at, and their acting is passable.

Clunky script, lines and acting - Personally I think a lot of the lines were not necessary, and because you stuff like a scene out of place, there's like a lot of unnecessary emotion at strange places you wouldn't expect logically LOL. Some of the clues are also a bit ??? I mean I watch with a lot of suspension of disbelief trust me, but I found myself LOL-ing with a cringe at some places. A little overboard in acting also for the PTSD or like the cases that really affect the two male leads, like you can feel it's a tad over the top in terms of trying to get a feel for the scene, but I mean, like I said, low expectations.

If they had a better production and more episodes, I think this might have turned out to be 100% better. It's a hardcore detective drama, so much so that technically some character development scenes would have done it well but they're like almost overly focused on the detective parts of it and like relationships are all for show, but we'll make do.

SUMMARY

Dai Yu (played by Wang Haoxuan), a medical examiner, works closely with Zheng Ming (played by Chen Huan), a police squad captain to solve five cases (5 episodes per case) — they've known each other for a long time, as Zheng Ming's mentor is Dai Yu's dad, and their relationship goes way back. Between them is the death of Dai Yu's father, who was shot right in front of Dai Yu, and the death of Zheng Ming's best friend Hai Shan, who was exposed for his undercover role and shot to death by Zheng Ming by accident during a hostage situation. This results in Zheng Ming being unable to shoot a person after, afraid that he would miss his shot like he did. As they work through several cases, they unravel secrets of what happened in the years after these two deaths.

Total 25 episodes

Playing on iQIYI, but don't know if there are subs since it's so obscure as a production there's barely any promo of it online

BROTHERHOOD (AHEM)

Truly a brotherhood like as if they're allergic to bromance BUT there are really like split seconds where you have to do a double take OKAY! They're kind of close because Dai Yu's dad was Zheng Ming's mentor, but Dai Yu himself took a while to warm up to Zheng Ming and Zheng Ming is kinda hot-headed, and misunderstands people really quickly. The both of them switch between being real familiar with each other to super professional like SUPER professional.

EP. 1: Zheng Ming sends Dai Yu back but Dai Yu has fallen asleep in the car so he literally removes the seatbelt for Dai Yu and then they just fall asleep in the car like that.

EP. 6+7: Dai Yu has his own house but when he sleeps over at the police housing he rooms with Zheng Ming, and Zheng Ming always nags at him for sleeping with his shoes on. And always buys him breakfast. And when Dai Yu once again falls asleep while talking to Zheng Ming without taking his shoes off, Zheng Ming takes it off for him and is all like "There you go again, sleeping with your shoes on."

EP. 15: After having a cold war with each other for like 3 episodes, Dai Yu tags along on a bust without permission and nearly gets knifed and Zheng Ming is pissed off as fuck going like: "What if that blade really hit the mark?! If it was a gun, you'd also step right in front of it?!" and then he walks off and then Dai Yu says, "If it was you (in danger), I definitely would stand right in front of the gun."

There are a lot of other moments, but it's always just RIGHT when you think it could be a bromance moment NOPE they make it so professional I'm like BRUH!!!

But otherwise for me personally, who's a low-maintenance viewer, this hits the spot and I'd keep watching!! Edit: Just finished watching the whole thing and ARGH wow talk about the most abrupt cold-feeling ending ever LMAO?!!?!

[moniquill]

@travellingdragon , because you asked:

Dragon descriptions by breed:

Nampeshiwe - the indigenous dragons of North Markesland (specifically a northeast woodlands breed)

In general, North Markesland dragons are somewhat mustelid in conformation and gait 

A description of Kasaqua’s mother:

It was red and gold and glorious with the evening sun behind it, like a hillside in autumn. From nose to tail it was twice as long as my canoe, and its wings opened half again that wide. It had a crown of antlers that must have come to thirty points or more. It stretched its wings, and the sun came through them, showing the scarlet net of its bloodworks. It had a long, sinuous body, like an otter or a fisher. Its neck double-curved like a heron's. Its mane was blood red, each spiky feather tipped with black, and it had black markings on its eyes and muzzle and along the rims of its deer-like ears.

Kasaqua upon hatching:

Overall it was about the size of a marten, dull yellow and speckled brown and black across its back. Its wings, as it stretched them out and flicked off bits of slime, proved much smaller than its mother's had been. They didn't look at all suited for the task of getting it into the air. Its head was overlarge for its body, and so were its feet. It had no sign of antlers or feathers. It looked as soft and bald as a baby songbird.

Word of Author on Nampeshiwe:

Average size when adult is twenty feet from nose to tail and thirty feet from wingtip to wingtip at full spread - this makes them middle-sized as dragons go. Bodily conformation of hatchlings should put one in mind of a ferret, sable, or martin - a mature adult is more like a wolverwine or honeybadger. The skin of the body ranges from buff gold through ginger and even orange, while the wingleather shades smoothly from that color at the wing wrist to scarlet red at the leading edge. Mane feathers of adults are red or ruddy brown and may or may not have darker veins and tips. Adults females have manes on the crows of thier heads and backs of their necks, while adult males have a mane that fully encompasses the throat and chest, like a lion’s mane and may or may not have a beard. Adults males also have bronze iridescence, especially on the breast feathers.   

Introduced Dragons

In general, dragons from the old world are somewhat wolfish or doggish in confirmation and gait

Akhari - an introduced breed developed in Kindah and Kedar

One of the dragons saw us coming and rose to its feet, approaching with great interest. It was a breed I didn't know from the book, light brown with black stripes across its back and wings, pale on its belly. It was as tall as a pony, but longer from nose to tail. It yawned hugely and loped forward with a wolfish gait, and Kasaqua bounded ahead to meet it. 

Arin - an introduced breed developed in Vaskosland (closely related to Bjalladreki)

In the next cell, a somewhat smaller dragon lay on its back, belly up and legs splayed. It was a shade of green that reflected blue, like the head of a drake mallard, and had a thorny crown of bone-white quills.

Professor Ibarra's Arin, Abiadura, looked like an especially lean and lanky Bjalladreki with shorter and stouter quills.

Bjalladreki - an introduced Norseland breed

This dragon had a crown of brown and white striped quills, the ones nearest to its face webbed like a fish's fins. It was a ruddy brown color overall, fading to gray on its belly and beneath its wings, with brilliant sea-green eyes. The webs around its face were mottled with green markings, too.

Niklas’ dragon was a bjalledreki as well, and having three of them at such close quarters allowed me to examine the breed in a detail that I hadn't been able to before. Ivar's dragon was the largest of the three, and broadest across the chest. Niklas’ dragon was smaller than Sigrod but larger than Magnus, and more gray than either of the others. The quills of its crown were especially long and finely formed, their banding more subtle and dappled, and they were each tipped in brilliant white. Magnus looked rangy compared to the other two, plainly more juvenile in conformation and demeanor.

Bjalladrekis were far and away the most common breed in the academy’s dragonhall, probably because the breed was famously even-tempered and versatile. Also because bjalladrekis begat more bjalladrekis, so their being popular meant more of their eggs were available. Marta’s dragon, Magnus, was a bjalladreki. The breed was ruddy brown and gray, with a mane of quills like a porcupine’s, and teal-green markings on the face and the backs of the wings.

Word of Author: This is the Labrador Retriever and American Quarter Horse of the dragon world, at least in New Anglesland dragoneering culture - wildly popular for being a dependable, middle of the road kind of creature.

Falterdrach -  an introduced breed developed in Tyskland

The dragon in the next cell was red and black, with a pair of recurved black horns. It was worrying at a bone big enough that it had to be a cow's leg. It flicked a wing open as we passed by the front of the cell, and I saw that it had great black patches on a red field, like a butterfly's wing.

Professor Mesman’s Falterdrach, Kostbar, was a smallish black dragon with brilliant red patches on his wings reminiscent of a butterfly.

Jirada - an introduced breed developed in Kindah

In the cell after that, a brown and gold dragon was lying with its back to us. I couldn't see its head at all, but it seemed to have very long, narrow wings.

Professor Nazari's Jirada, named Zati, was dusty brown with especially long and narrow wings.

Kessledrach - an introduced breed developed in Tyskland

It was an altogether larger creature than Kasaqua's mother had been—stockier and more forwardly-built. If Kasaqua’s mother could be likened to an otter, this dragon could be likened to a bear. It was green and bronze, and instead of antlers it had a pair of sharp horns that swept back from its brow.

Frau Kuiper’s Gerhard, an enormous dark green Kessledrach, was built like a bear 

Silberdrach - an introduced breed developed in Anglesland

All of the other cells—something like seventy or eighty of them—appeared to be empty save one at the very end. In that cell a huge white-and-gray dragon with pale eyes stared at us with keen interest. Its mouth was partly open, its black tongue flicking out between glittering fangs.

Two of the dragoneers visited north village. Not dragons like yours, thorny silver-white monsters eight foot tall at the shoulder.”

“Silberdrachs,” I said, nodding. “They’re a favored breed in the dragonthede, along with Kessledrachs. Most of the jarlsgards who are dragoneers are bonded to Silberdrachs, I think.

Captain Einarsson’s ill-tempered Silberdrach, whose name I’d never learned, was white and gray - though her tongue and gums were black

Velikolepni - an introduced breed developed in Russland and Roveland

It was only a little bigger than Kasaqua, and it had a very distinctive look. It was very pale all over, wheat-colored above and below with bands of white along its flanks, shading to brilliant gold on its tail and the backs of its wings. It lacked any sort of a mane, but had three sets of little horny nubs on either side of the crown of its head. It had a pair of barbles sweeping back from its nose, another above its eyebrows, and a double pair sprouting from its chin—taken together, I was reminded very strongly of a catfish.

Sander’s dragon, Inga, had grown enormously since I’d last seen her. She was now the size of a pony, and her triple set of golden horns had grown out to three or four inches in length. 

In general, dragons from Markesland and the Far East have brachiating antlers that shed and regrow annually and elongated bauplans, while Norselandish dragons have horns (1-3 pairs) that do not shed and more compact bauplans.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 In Darkness I Found You 🔞

Synopsis: In which alpha Hobi finds a severely injured omega in his front yard during a storm and discovers the horrible path that lead him to Hobi in the first place

Tags: Mentions of rape, forced pregnancy, & restraints

Hobi picked up his head from what he was doing on the computer when the flood light went on in the front yard. It was pouring rain outside & the only thing that could possibly set it off was something large moving. 

“Tae did you leave one of the dogs out?” he yelled down the stairs to his younger brother. 

“No, they’re right here!” Tae yelled back. Hobi closed his laptop and went downstairs. 

“Didn’t you see the light go off?” he asked. 

“It’s probably just a deer or something,” Tae replied clearly unwilling to go outside and check. They lived on a horse farm out in the country with their nearest neighbors 6 miles away. 

“Fine, I’ll check,” Hobi pulled on his boots and rain jacket. The downside of having 2 Alphas living in the same house was little tasks like checking for possible intruders were deadlocked longer than they should’ve been. The light had gone out by the time Hobi got out there. It was raining so hard that he could barely see in front of him. The light went back on and he smelled it before he saw it. 

There was a person collapsed in the grass, specifically an Omega in severe distress. The smell almost knocked him over. He jogged over and scooped up the young male. He was still alive, but even in the darkness of the storm, Hobi could tell he was in bad shape. 

“Tae, open the door!” he yelled. The irritated look on his brother’s face disappeared when he saw the Omega in Hobi’s arms. 

“Put him in the bathroom,” Tae said and went to get his bag. He was a nurse and Hobi was a vet, so this Omega had lost his energy in the best yard for miles. Hobi lied him down on the bath mat and finally got a good look at him. He was muddy from where he’d fallen. His clothes were old and worn out. He was thin, but the type of thin where he’d been fed one step above what he needed to survive. Hobi thought he saw blood in between his legs. He may have just given birth. But an Omega wouldn’t leave his newborn pup behind. Would he? Hobi didn’t know much about Omegas other than the ones Tae told him about from the hospital. Neither he nor Tae had considered taking mates. They were content with their jobs, animals, and sniping at each other like siblings do, especially 2 Alpha siblings. The Omega looked up at Hobi. He was clearly confused and exhausted. 

“It’s okay. We’re going to help you,” Hobi reassured him. “My name is Hobi.”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out.  

“That’s okay, I’ll learn your name soon enough,” Hobi smiled at him. He had no idea why he was smiling at him. Maybe because it reassured him, too. He’d spent years working with skittish horses and it was serving him well now. 

“Okay, let's get a look at you,” Tae said. As he went to check the Omega’s breathing with his stethoscope, the Omega suddenly got wild eyed and started whining. He tried to get away, but was too weak to do more than a half roll. Hobi looped his arm under the Omega’s arms & pulled him up into sitting position. He sat behind him bolstering the Omega’s back against his chest. 

“He’s not going to hurt you. This is my brother Tae. He’s going to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell. Nod if you understand me,” Hobi said. The Omega nodded against Hobi’s chest. 

“We’re gonna have to clean him up, too,” Tae said. “Though I think I know what’s going on here.”

“What?” Hobi asked. Tae looked at the Omega. 

“Have you been pregnant before?” he asked.

The Omega nodded. 

“More than 3 times since you presented?” Tae continued.

The Omega nodded again. 

“He’s a Breeder,” Tae sighed. 

“Isn’t that illegal?” Hobi asked.

“Very,” Tae confirmed.

“I know you won’t like this, but once we get you cleaned up I’m going to have to examine you. Since you were bleeding I want to make sure you won’t get an infection. Okay?” Tae said to the Omega. He nodded. 

“I’ll help get you washed up,” Hobi said. The Omega started to shake a little and smell like fear. “I’m not going to do that to you. I’m just going to clean you up so Tae can make sure you’re okay.” The Omega stopped shaking, but the scent of fear stayed. 

“I’ll be outside,” Tae said. Hobi started to fill the tub. He consistently soothed him like he did with the horses while he helped him get undressed and in the tub. As the mud washed off, Hobi noticed scars on his wrists and ankles from being tied up. If he really was a Breeder, that wasn’t a surprise. Omegas with desirable traits, such as a certain eye color or body type, were allegedly paid to mate with Alphas and produce equally desirable pups. The reality of the situation was they were kept as hostages and almost constantly pregnant. The practice had been outlawed decades ago. The fact that this Omega was showing obvious signs of being a Breeder meant one of their neighbors was engaging in one hell of a sketchy stream of income. 

“I’m going to go get Tae now. Will you be okay in here for a minute by yourself?” Hobi asked as he drained the tub and helped the Omega out into a towel. He nodded. Hobi helped him towel off, careful to avoid his crotch and any indication he might be interested in knotting him, then sat him back on the floor against the wall. “I’ll get some clean clothes for you, too. They’ll smell like Alpha, but they’ll at least be dry.” The look in the Omega’s eyes was grateful. The smell of fear had dissipated. This was probably the first time he’d been treated with any kindness in a long time. 

Hobi got Tae and the Omega started to look suspicious again. Two Alphas in the room was obviously one too many for him. 

“I’ll be as quick as I can. I just need to make sure nothing is going to get infected,” Tae told him. The Omega looked at Hobi. 

“Do you want me to help you sit again?” Hobi asked. The omega nodded. 

“Okay. He’s going to have to examine why you had blood on your pants. He isn’t going to knot you. He just needs to check,” Hobi sat behind the Omega again as he reluctantly spread his legs. Tae put on gloves and the Omega started to whine and shake. He’d definitely been a Breeder and only had negative experiences with medical professionals. They always took his pups away. 

“Breathe. I promise he won’t hurt you,” Hobi scratched the Omega’s head. He was grooming an Omega he’d found half dead in his front yard 2 hours ago. What the hell was going on with him? 

“There’s still a pup in there. It’s not very big, but it’s there. I think he miscarried one, but not the other,” Tae said after he finished palpating the Omega’s abdomen. The Omega looked at him in surprise. 

“How far do you think?” Hobi asked. 

“Three months, maybe? I doubt he’ll show anytime soon with one this small,” Tae said. “There’s still a risk he’ll lose this one, too. We can’t let him move around too much and we definitely need to get him fed properly soon.”

“Let’s get you dressed and get you in bed. Okay?” Hobi said. The Omega nodded still watching Tae closely. 

“I’ll get him some water and soup or something,” Tae said. 

“I’ll put him in the guest room. That should smell slightly less like Alpha,” Hobi said. Once he got the Omega dressed in a pair of his old sweatpants and tee shirt, he picked him up again and carried him to the guest bedroom. They rarely used it because they rarely had guests. 

“Here we go. Nice and cozy,” Hobi said. 

“Yoongi,” the Omega finally found his voice. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” Hobi smiled at him. Yoongi put Hobi’s hand on his belly. 

“This is pup number 10,” he said.

“Hi pup number 10,” Hobi said. His gut jerked at the realization that Yoongi had birthed or lost 9 pups since he presented. This would be the first pup he was allowed to keep.

“How old are you?” Hobi asked. 

“I think I’m 25,” Yoongi replied.

“You think?” Hobi was confused.

“What year is it?” Yoongi asked. 

“2019,” Hobi replied. 

“Then I’m 25,” he replied. If he’d been held captive then he’d have no clue how much time had passed other than roughly how long he’d been pregnant. 

“I have water and chicken noodle soup,” Tae said, coming into the room with a tray. “I also found some vitamins. They aren’t prenatal, but they’ll do until I can get some.”

Yoongi let out a whine. 

“I know you’re scared, but he’s not gonna take your pup or hurt you. Right Tae?” Hobi looked at his brother.

“Nope,” Tae said as he put down the tray on the nightstand. “I’m going to make sure you and the pup are nice and healthy. So you can keep a healthy, happy pup.”

“You won’t take my pup?” Yoongi put his hand over his belly. 

“No, I won’t take your pup,” Tae reassured him. “This one is yours.”

Yoongi looked at Hobi. 

“The pup is yours.  We won’t take it from you,” he said. 

“Then why are you being nice to me?” Yoongi questioned.

“Because you’re a person who deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. You’re not a pup factory,” Hobi replied. Tae nodded in agreement. Yoongi didn’t look convinced. “Let’s at least get some dinner in you. You both need to eat.”

“Yell if you need me,” Tae said and left. Hobi handed him the water and he drank it in almost one gulp. 

“Looks like you need a refill.” Hobi smiled.

“Guess I was thirstier than I thought,” Yoongi said. By the time he finished the soup, took the vitamin, and finished 2 more glasses of water, it was almost midnight. 

“Think you can sleep?” Hobi asked. 

“I am tired,” Yoongi said. 

“My room is right next door if you need anything, though Tae probably won’t want you getting up,” Hobi said. 

“You can stay,” Yoongi said. 

“You’re not afraid of me?” Hobi asked.

“You smell...safe,” Yoongi said, choosing the words carefully.

“Then I guess I’ll change and be right back,” Hobi said. As he changed into his pajamas, he thought about what Yoongi had said. Did Yoongi only feel that way because Hobi picked him up in the pouring rain from the mud? Was he only uneasy around Tae because Tae reminded him of the doctors who took his pups away? Or was it something else? Hobi had unconsciously started grooming him to keep him calm while Tae was examining him. He wasn’t his mate. He barely knew him. He’d put Hobi’s hand on his belly, his most vulnerable place. He seemed to trust Hobi. They needed him to trust at least one of them if they were going to get him and the pup healthy. It wasn’t more than that. It couldn’t be.

Yoongi had dozed off sitting up when Hobi came back into the bedroom. Hobi tried to get in bed without disturbing him and failed. Yoongi jerked awake. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Hobi said. 

“Okay,” Yoongi tried to slow his breathing. 

“Down we go,” Hobi helped him to lying down. Hobi lied down facing him. Yoongi watched him intently. 

“What?” Hobi asked. 

“I can’t remember the last time I slept in a real bed,” he said. 

“Where did you sleep?” Hobi wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Roll away hospital beds. It was easier when it was time for us to give birth,” Yoongi swallowed hard. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Hobi said. 

“Yes, I do,” Yoongi whispered. “The Alphas liked me because I was one of the prettiest males. The ones who didn’t want to be with a female almost always picked me. I fought, though. That’s why they had to strap me down. I wouldn’t hold still long enough for the Alphas to knot me. Then I got a reputation for being a fighter. That’s when it got really bad.”

“Being strapped down and raped wasn’t bad enough?” Hobi tried to keep himself calm. He didn’t want to upset Yoongi any more than he already was and by extension the pup. 

“Once I was labeled a fighter, they’d put me in a pen first to let the Alpha catch me before I was knotted. I bit a lot of Alphas. Ones who wanted pups that were aggressive would play that game. What they didn’t understand is I learned to fight. I’m not an aggressive Omega,” Yoongi’s voice started shaking. Hobi could smell the fear and anxiety. 

“That’s over now. We’re going to find out who’s doing it and where they are and stop them. You and this pup are safe. Anyone who comes in this house without our permission will have to get through us & the dogs,” Hobi told him. 

“Dogs?” Yoongi repeated.

“Two spoiled rotten pit bulls named Daisy and Violet,” Hobi told him. “They’re the biggest babies on the planet until they come across someone threatening their daddies.”

“What about me?” Yoongi asked. 

“You won’t be able to get Daisy out of your lap. She won’t be happy when we shoo her off until Tae has cleared you for lap time,” Hobi replied. “She pouts.” Yoongi smiled a little. 

“I don’t mean to be afraid of him,” Yoongi started. 

“But nurses aren’t your favorite people?” Hobi finished. 

“No,” he said. 

“He can be a jackass, but I’m biased. He’s my little brother,” Hobi grinned. 

“Sure,” Yoongi said. 

“Time to turn out the light?” Hobi asked. 

“Sounds good,” Yoongi said. 

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” Hobi told him as he leaned over and turned off the light. Then he felt Yoongi nosing around his neck scenting him. “Does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“Then rub around all you want,” Hobi hoped he could keep his knot at bay. Now that Yoongi wasn’t reeking of anxiety and fear, he smelled...perfect. Hobi wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it was what came to mind. He was on bed rest for the pup and the most exertion he needed was to go to the bathroom and get back in bed. Maybe once the pup was out of the woods…

“You like me too, huh?” Yoongi said. Hobi looked down. Shit. 

“It’s not like that. I don’t want to, I mean I do, but we just met and the pup and everything,” Hobi stumbled over his words .

“I understand. The pup comes first,” he said. 

“Absolutely,” Hobi agreed. 

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Yoongi asked. 

“Is this a trick question?” Hobi asked. 

“No, but I didn’t expect to be rescued by an Alpha in the pouring rain after I escaped a Breeder Farm and was sure I was going to die in the mud. Every time one of those Alphas knotted me and hoped they’d get me pregnant so they could have their perfect pup, I’d pray that there was at least one Alpha in the world who didn’t want me, as you so aptly put it, as only a pup factory. It’s what kept me alive. One day I’d get out and one day I’d find that Alpha. I knew when I smelled you that you were different. You didn’t want me to die. I didn’t even realize I lost that pup until Tae said something. You would think I knew better after giving birth 5 times, but all I could think about was getting out. It was only after I fell down that I realized how bad it was. I dunno, maybe it’s only because I was dying that I thought the Alpha I’d dreamed about for years had finally found me,” Yoongi replied. 

“I started grooming you when Tae was examining you because it seemed to keep you calm. I don’t think I’ve ever groomed anything other than a horse or a dog,” Hobi replied. “That has to mean something, right?”

“Have you been looking for a mate?” Yoongi asked.

“No,” Hobi answered.

“Then it means something,” Yoongi said. He gently kissed Hobi. “Thank you for saving our lives, Hobi.”

“You’re welcome,” Hobi replied. “And so are you, pup number 10.” Yoongi put Hobi’s hand on his belly again. 

“Pup says thank you, too,” he said.

“Good night, Yoongi,”

“Good night, Hobi,”

[rainbowsprinkledpirate]

To The Sound of Beskar

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Older!Male!Reader

Summary: When dropping off your latest bounty, you have the vague feeling that you will see the Mythrol, Mirialan, and Zygerrian again someday. Until you end up with more pressing matters to worry about. Like how Greef Karga immediately sends you after a new bounty when you step foot in the bounty hunter guild's cantina.

AN: If you can't tell, I suck at writing fight scenes, and The Mandalorian series contains a lot. So, here's to a long ride and lots of research on my end on how to write it! 😃👍

Chapter II: Strengthen Those Beside You

It was easy to get lost in thought when traveling through space.

The swirl of color drew you into a sense of peace unlike anything else you've ever experienced, allowing you to let go for a moment. You got lost in thought more often than you'd like to admit when flying.

Currently, you were thinking about the training Din had gone through.

Was he able to learn everything you had?

When Concordia was attacked, you were both still very young. From what you recall, you were still going through training even then. And you were able to be on your own a few weeks after the tribe had settled on Nevarro.

The younger kids, like Din and Paz, had their training pushed back. Yet you doubt the older Mandalorians let them skip for long.

Din had to have finished his training, or the other Mandalorians wouldn't let him keep sneaking away to join you on dangerous bounty-hunting missions without speaking with you about it.

Right?

"...ey. Hey, are you alright?" A hand shaking your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts. Din doesn't let go even when you crane your neck to look up at him.

You examine him, feeling a stupid smile crawl across your lips before noticing the beep from the navigator in front of you two. Damn, you had to start doing something to avoid wasting fuel by zoning out between jumps.

Pressing the right buttons to exit hyperspeed, you manually take over to fly back to Nevarro.

"Yeah, I was just lost in thought." You mutter before tightening your grip on the Crest's steering wheel. Din's fingers squeeze your shoulder before he lets go.

"You should just let me fly. I don't think you've been getting enough sleep lately."

He was one to talk.

Wait.

Was it just you, or did Din sound oddly grown up suddenly?

Ting.

Din chuckles after the bolt bounces off the top of your helmet. You turn to glare silently after him as he exits the cockpit.

He lazily tosses over his shoulder before completely disappearing from sight, "I think I'm a better flyer anyways."

No, he hasn't grown up at all. That womp rat.

Sighing heavily, you fly the Crest to an open space close to the city. You maneuver it between a freighter and a quadjumper. Checking that there was enough space for Greef's guys to get the quarries out.

Stepping out of the cockpit after powering down the Crest, you head down the ladder leading into the belly of the ship.

Din waits for you by the open ramp. From your place by the ladder, you watch how his lazy demeanor shifts back to that of the cold Mandalorian. Shoulders squared and back straight.

You can't stop the ache stinging your heart as you stride past him.

If you could choose for him to have a different life, you would. One where he was still on Aq Vetina learning whatever from his parents. One where he didn't have to put up a shield between himself and everyone else.

"Hey! Watch it, Mando." The words are spat at you like poison when you accidentally bump into a rough-looking Trandoshan. You say nothing and stare him down from behind your helmet until he sidesteps you with a sneer and continues on his way.

This was the life Din was born into. One where he had to learn from the world around him. One where he was safe behind the mask because it protected him from those who wished him harm.

This wasn't a life you would willingly choose for anyone. But it gave some a second chance.

You make your way through the bustle of the city, and the crowd parts around you. Din follows behind silently as you head to the bounty hunter's guild.

When your shadow darkens the guild's entrance, Greef Karga rises from his table further in the cantina.

"Mando! Glad to see you back. Good job on those last bounties." Karga tilts his glass at you with a smile. "Come, come! I believe I have something that will help secure your spot in the guild." He beckons you over.

You ignore the glares and whispers rising from the other bounty hunters as you and Din move to sit in front of Karga. Said man completely ignores them and focuses solely on you.

He jovially states with a flourish of a bounty puck, "This bounty is one of the most important ones I have gotten as of late. But I trust you can handle it, Mando."

He slides the puck your way, humming, "You're headed to Gamorr. This particular bounty is a slaver wanted in many parsecs. Goes by the name Bhoa Myoduza. She should be easy to find, considering she's likely the only Rodian on Gamorr."

You snag the puck before standing up.

Staring down at Karga, you question him with vauge curiosity, "Any idea which part of the planet she's on?"

"That planet is ravaged by war. Surely there is one quiet place that would stand out." Din speaks up after Karga shakes his head at your question. For a moment, his looks as if he's about to shake his head again when his face lights up.

"Now that you mention it, I believe there is one place you could check first. Ah, but it requires one of the locals to take you there."

Din sighs beside you before standing to follow you.

That wasn't going to be easy.

The Gamorreans were too focused on fighting each other to worry about helping a Mandalorian looking for a bounty. But it wasn't like you needed their help. You would figure it out yourself. With Din, things would be easier. Strengthen those beside you. That's what Din was good at. And you were glad he was born into this life with you.

Next Chapter -> tbd

Here <- Previous Chapter

Star Wars Masterlist

[fyodoro]

hi hello! i hope youre doing well :] i enjoy reading your writings and i love them very much <3

can i request a tsukasa x gn reader going on a date at an art gallery? whatever happens in the date is up to you! thats all thank you sm!

->𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

Art isn’t one of his specialties, but the new role he was given requires artistic inspiration. What better way to find this inspiration than an art gallery date?

With Tsukasa Tenma | ty for 388 followers

Genre - fluff | cw - none, Rui is mentioned a bit, the start is a little rushed, kinda short as well…

“So you’re saying… I have to portray a painting in its beauty in this role?” Tsukasa asked a certain purple haired male.

“That’s right, but I’m sure you’re capable of that. I’ll have the script done in about two days. So get into the artistic spirit by then, yeah?” Rui replied. He had his typical cat like smirk plastered on his face, knowing how sudden his request was. But Tsukasa doesn’t have to be in the art spirit for another week or so. It was only a heads up.

The two parted ways soon after. The whole way home, Tsukasa was brewing up ideas on how he could get the right inspiration. Which leads you to now…

“What are your ideas, (Name)? Stuff like this is hard to find inspiration for without getting distracted!” Tsukasa was pacing back and forth in his room, talking with his hands much more than usual

“Hey now, calm down. Sit down and take a deep breath, we can look for something together.” You welcomed him with open arms, far too open for him to hesitate.

You opened your laptop and started searching, the aspiring star peering over your shoulder. ‘Artistic attractions in my area’ you searched. It was almost baffling how little attractions were around besides art classes.

But you and Tsukasa were persistent and determined. You continued scrolling while he examined every link that appeared.

“Wait- click that one!” He pointed at the blue text, you obliged and were greeted with a colorful page.

“An art gallery…” You realized.

It seemed pretty legit, not to mention it had pretty good ratings. Four stars with over 800 reviews, how wasn’t this one of the first links that showed up?

Clicking through every page the site has to offer, you saw how organized this place was. Through the few pictures alone it seemed so… clean. Not to mention it costed hardly anything to get in, no reservations needed. If you didn’t read through some reviews, you would have thought it was a scam.

“It’s perfect (Name)! I’m sure I’ll get all the inspiration I need there in just a few minutes. Let’s call it a date so time past those few minute’s aren’t wasted!” He exclaimed, far too excited than any other would be to visit an art gallery. But this was Tsukasa after all.

“A date it is, but don’t forget our main purpose for being there!”

“Yeah yeah, let’s just rest up now so we’re refreshed.”

Humming in response, you closed your laptop and placed it on the floor next to the bed. Following Tsukasa under the covers before drifting off to sleep.

Morning rolled around, birds chirping at the large window. You groaned at the sunlight hitting your eyes the moment you opened them, the orange boy next to you seemingly agreeing with your discomfort. Despite that, he got up and stretched his limbs after the long slumber.

He yawned, standing there for a moment before his eyes widen in realization.

“We gotta get ready!” He exclaims.

“Tsukasaaa, we have a few more hours before we have to leave. Can’t we sleep in today?” It was true, the gallery didn’t open for another hour or so. It had to be around 8 in the morning right now, right?

“We don’t have time for sleeping in! Look at the time, it’s 11 now, we overslept already!” He was definitely being a bit over dramatic. You guys went to bed a bit late sure, but you didn’t oversleep that much.

You didn’t bother getting into this debate with him, and rolled out of bed yourself. You deadpanned at him for a moment, making him shiver.

“Hey don’t give me that! Let’s just eat and start leaving, alright?” You nodded in response, exiting his room.

Breakfast was simple, but it was enough to get you through till your next meal. While you ate, Tsukasa took the time to get himself ready before you could take up the bathroom for too long. He knew your morning routine- and it took forever in his eyes. So he insisted you ate while he got ready, and he ate while you got ready. It was a fair deal.

You finished your plate the same time the bathroom door swung open, signaling it’s your turn. After about 30 minutes or so, you both were all set.

“What kind of art do you think we’ll see?” You asked, his amber eyes peering over to your figure.

“Well… definitely paintings?” He chuckled at his joke, while you let out an exaggerated sigh.

The gallery lobby felt so… clean. The floors were perfectly polished and the walls looked so smooth. A warm light filled the entire room, setting the mood for what was in this gallery. You both paid for your own entries, and were finally led to the real thing.

“Now, don’t forget the main purpose of this trip Tsukasa! We’re not just here for a date, you need inspiration for the new role you got!” You whisper shouted. Your words reminded Tsukasa of what he needs to engage in right now.

With that, he carefully inspected the first framed painting on the left. He pointed his finger at the painting, and traced it in the air. If he did this anywhere else, he probably would have been accused of his usual shenanigans.

“I see… its style. The brush strokes are visible, but they blend in perfectly at a distance. But when you get close up… it still holds that same beauty.” He remarked. He smiled proudly at himself for the understanding, and lead you over to the next painting.

He seemed a little more troubled with this one. It had less lighting than the previous painting, and was slightly harder to make out.

“Now, instead of trying to grasp the style, try grasping the painter instead. What do you think they were going for?” You asked. He appreciated your advice, he always did.

“I think… they were trying to make something distinct. Something that looks clear, but actually isn’t. The lack of light pulled that together, I can see why there’s less highlights in this one.”

Tsukasa was typically unserious, but when he was serious, he really was serious. And this was one of those moments. You can tell how badly he wants to get this role pinned down just by the way he’s looking at these canvases.

The next one was loud- figuratively. The colors contrasted each other in all different ways, and carried a more abstract look to it. Unsurprisingly, Tsukasa was quicker with this one than the last two.

“It’s colorful, full of life! I think the artist was doing everything they could to catch someone’s eye with the way the colors line up with each other. It’s bright- but still carries those shadows and highlights.” His hand was holding his chin, squinting a bit at the brightness in this painting compared to all the others.

“So… what do you think you got so far?” You asked.

“I think I understand what painters look for in their paintings. But I also think I understand where their heads are at. Some thrive for attention from others, but others prefer to work in the dark. Either way, both artists are working towards the same goal, a finished painting.” He replied.

You smiled a bit at his words. He was really determined to improve his acting skills, wasn’t he?

“So what’s next, wanna keep looking around? Or…” he cut you off.

“I definitely got the inspiration I needed! Not only that, but I got meaningful time with you as well! Let’s head home now, I need to let Rui know I got my inspiration as well.” He mumbled that last part, a little worried at what Rui wants him to do for this role exactly.

You laughed, and left the gallery hand in hand with each other. Even if it was quicker than you thought it’d be, you got to see Tsukasa in a serious yet sincere demeanor. It wasn’t something you got to see that often, and you were grateful you did today.

It was a nice reminder that despite his typical lightheartedness, he was still passionate and serious about what he does. It’s a part of him you fall in love with all over again every time you see it.

[overdecorated-furniture]

Writer Introduction

Greetings, fellow writers of Tumblr! I thought I should introduce myself, as I have been lurking quietly for a while now, and you all seem like excellent writers with interesting projects.

About Me

I’m a teenage English girl, with a passion for history, literature, the odd cosplay, and storytelling. I’ve been making up roleplays with myself since I was small, and my stories have always kept me company.

I’ve grown up reading Shakespeare since I was seven, as well as the more traditional children’s classics, and have since found that my passions lie in fantasy worlds, historical fiction, and detective fiction/murder mysteries, although I like to dabble in all genres if I get the chance.

My WIPs

I am currently in the middle of writing two novels, a short story that has accidentally turned into a novella, and various short stories, flashfiction and any other bits and pieces that take my fancy.

The Jack of Diamonds

This is a historical fiction set in 1890s London, and focuses on the criminal classes, and the anonymity of personal and public life that is so prevalent across Late-Victorian Literature.

The plot centres around a young Aristocrat called Philip Devlin, and the double life he leads as London’s most infamous criminal. It’s still very much half formed, so I can’t be amazingly accurate about everything that’s in it, but it might be your cup of tea if you like:

Close Male Friendships that fall apart unexpectedly.

A strong female character who doesn’t fall in love with the protagonist.

The adventure/mystery style of Conan Doyle and Maurice LeBlanc.

And the inevitable morally grey Venetian of all good stories.

Echoes of Eternity (Working title)

This is a fantasy/folklore work, centred around the Arthurian legends, and has a time travel/time slip element to it. There is also an exploration of power and the damage it causes, as well as how death affects the living.

This is still mostly at a world-building stage, although I have written the odd scene out, so the plot is still fairly nebulous, but it follows the dual paths of a young mage called Amser from Arthurian times, and the story of Rose and Jay Fleetwood, as they attempt to right the wrongs of the past together. This might be up your street if you like:

A Morally Grey protagonist with dubious motives.

The magic of King Arthur and his knights.

Magic systems similar to those used in The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series by Michael Scott.

And randomly angry ghosts leading to time travelling quests

A Monstrous Regiment of Women

This is historical fiction meets fanfiction, with a good helping of biographical info thrown in. It’s set during the Napoleonic Wars, and examines the place of women in that society, the psychological effects of war, and how the Napoleonic Wars shaped Europe.

I Have reimagined Napoleon Bonaparte and the Duke of Wellington as women, Letizia Bonaparte and Francis Wellesley respectively, and have imagined how their lives would look if they had still enlisted in the military. This is probably the most complete of my major WIPs, as all the information and plot is already available in history books, I just need to jig it around. You might like this if you enjoy:

Stories with good depictions of battles in them.

Regency Literature, or pastiches like Johnathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke.

Strong female protagonists acting outside societal norms.

Sweeping story arcs that cover a character in a range of situations and moods.

Other Bits and Pieces

I often write short stories, and most of them end up on my AO3 account. It’s a rather eclectic mix, with a lot of crossovers, but I enjoy writing them a lot. You can find it below:

I am more than up for being sent asks, participating in tag games etc, and love writing socially. I’m also happy to share any tips or prompts I think up, although those will be very sporadic given all my writing to date has been mostly self-governed. Generally speaking I’m somewhat uncomfortable with NSFW type prompts, asks etc, so avoid those if possible.

Finally, I look forward to chatting to you all and sharing my creations. Happy writing everyone!

[honourablejester]

PF2e Character Concept: Inbal the Listener

So I was browsing around the Investigator class in Archives of Nethys, and some of the flavour text leans towards an occult detective: You seek to uncover the truth, doggedly pursuing leads to reveal the plots of devious villains, discover ancient secrets, or unravel other mysteries. I’ve been wanting to build an occulty sort of character in PF2e since basically reading some of the occultism skill feats way back when. If you want a sort of ESP-feeling, psychometry, vibe-focused sort of character, occultism just feels like a really good skill to build around.

So I was looking at that, and the Investigator methodologies, and for some reason while browsing past the Forensic Medicine methodology, my brain thought ‘Igor’. Gothic horror, bodies, henchpeople. Frankenstein. Which, naturally, brought me back to the Fleshwarp ancestry. Because they’re just really really cool. But. If we tie a bow around all of that. Bodies. Forensic Science. Occultism. Gothic Horror. Servants.

How about a character who was built, designed, to search out occult mysteries. A body built from pieces of strange creatures, a servant crafted to aid in certain obscure and obscene mysteries. A shambling creature who wound up on their own, with only insatiable curiosity, strange senses, and a healer’s eye for the physical form to keep them going. A hideous creature, a feared creature, but they offer help. Medicine, healing. Expertise. Help for when things are strange or terrifying.

Inbal the Listener. A nervy, alarming creature with long, spidery fingers and worrisome sensory tendrils, who sidles around the edges of civilisation offering cheap doctoring or help with unusual mysteries to survive.

(Yes, my Nosferatu is showing again. VtM was responsible for a lot. Also Universal and Hammer Horror)

Character Concept: Inbal the Listener, Sensor of Hidden Things

Ancestry, Heritage

Fleshwarp, Surgewise

I really, really, really like Fleshwarps. Horrendously transformed or warped or created beings, strange bodies for unusual people. For Inbal we’re aiming for a gothic/cosmic horror sort of origin, a bit of an Ustalavian feel. Some scientist or necromancer in Ustalav decided to make themselves a servant to help search out and understand areas of heavy occult energies, and in that cause decided to merge a broadly humanoid form with several … more unusual sorts of organs and origins.

So we’ll be going for the Surgewise heritage: The undulations of your body's cilia are hyper-attuned to wellsprings of magic; they trill and thrum with insights into occult energies, and their vibrations alert you to the presence of secrets. You gain the trained proficiency rank in Occultism. If you're trained in Occultism, you instead become trained in another skill of your choice. You also gain the Oddity Identification skill feat.

You’ve got to love a heritage that gives you canonical sensory tendrils (cilia). I want to imagine a sort of skinny, hunched, hairless creature, with bluey-grey skin, and these little fringes or fronds of cilia along certain areas. Below the ears. Along the spine and the back of the neck, over the crest of the head. Along the ridge of the arm, down to the wrist. The hands are elongated, pale, spidery fingers that stitch your wounds or delicately trace writings or gently examine clues. The eyes are dark and without whites, black orbs, and … let’s make the eyelids transparent. The eyes don’t close in sleep, or they don’t appear to close, though the transparent lids do protect them and keep them from drying out. Inbal is neither male nor female, they were never designed with reproduction in mind. They were meant to feel and to seek and to explore.

The medicine, the understanding of flesh, they came to themselves, as a product of their making.

As a note, ‘Inbal’, in Hebrew, means ‘tongue of a bell’. They named themselves, as something that will not only listen, not only feel, but also speak. They were not designed for it, but they have their own mind, and they have carved out their own life. That is important to them.

Ancestry Feats:

Low-Light Vision: You can see in dim light as though it were bright light, and you ignore the concealed condition due to dim light.

Unusual Anatomy: Your unorthodox body resists physical afflictions meant for other creatures. You gain a +1 circumstance bonus to saves against diseases and poisons.

Oddity Identification: You have a sense for spells that twist minds or reveal secrets. You gain a +2 circumstance bonus to Occultism checks to Identify Magic with the mental, possession, prediction, or scrying traits.

And for our first level ancestry feat we’ll take:

Deepvision: Your vision is suited for night or the underground. You gain darkvision.

Planned Future Ancestry Feats:

We’ll take the Ancestral Paragon general feat at 3rd level to get:

Living Weapon: You've learned to use part of your form as a weapon. When you select this feat, you gain a claws unarmed attack that deals 1d4 slashing damage and has the agile and finesse traits; a horn, jaws, or tusk unarmed attack that deals 1d6 piercing damage and has the versatile trait; or a tail unarmed attack that deals 1d6 bludgeoning damage and has the backswing trait. Each of these unarmed attacks is in the brawling weapon group. Your features are mutable; you can select this feat at any level, and you can retrain into or out of this feat or change the type of attack you gain. Special You can take this feat multiple times. Each time you do, select a new attack from the options above.

Just because Investigators are martial classes, and a weapon that can’t get taken away might be handy. Not going to lie, though, Aberration Kinship is also very tempting, particularly on an occult detective sort of character. Toss up there. Then we’ll take:

Uncanny Awareness: You have a keen sense of movement around you. You gain motion sense as an imprecise sense out to 30 feet. Motion sense allows you to detect nearby motion through vibration and air movement.

Because we have sensory cilia and we’re damn well going to use them. And for the same reason, at 13th level we’ll take:

Augment Senses: You open vestigial eyes, unfurl tympanic flaps of skin, or otherwise enhance your senses. Until the start of your next turn, you gain the following benefits: you can't be flanked; when you Seek for creatures, you can scan a 60-foot cone or a 30-foot burst instead of the normal area; and when you Seek for hidden objects, you can search a 15-foot square instead of the normal area.

And at 17th level, just because, we’ll take:

Spew Tentacles: You can open your mouth to an immense size and spew forth an impossibly large field of tentacles. You can cast black tentacles once per day as an innate occult spell, though when you do so, you spew them from your mouth out to the appropriate range, where they take root and begin Grappling creatures as usual. The tentacles recognize you as a part of them and don't attempt to Grapple you, even if you are in the area.

For our 9th ancestry feat, it’s a toss up. Coating of Slime or Slip the Grasp work defensively. Transposable Compliance really gels well with our medical slant, allowing Inbal to use their own body as a set of healer’s tools, in very upsetting ways, using their own blood and skin to fix other people’s injuries at the cost of damage to themselves. It is tempting. But. If we want a combination, a very upsetting biological defensive feat, we could go:

Gaping Flesh (reaction): Frequency once per day. Trigger A creature you are aware of damages you with a melee Strike. Your wound yawns open, appalling your attacker. The attacker must succeed at a Fortitude saving throw against your class DC or spell DC, whichever is higher, or become sickened 1 (sickened 2 on a critical failure). It can't recover from the sickened condition while it's adjacent to you.

Look. They are a strange cobbled-together creature made of the upsetting bits of upsetting creatures so they could go out and look for more upsetting creatures and places and things. Their innards are not pleasant or rational things to look at. Okay? Heh.

I fucking love Fleshwarps. Anyway.

Planned Future General Feats:

Nothing too concrete, but I’ll definitely be getting True Perception at 19th level. Sensing is kind of our whole deal, after all. I’d also pick up the usuals. Fleet, Toughness. Since we’re an investigator, though, I’d like either Expeditious Search or Thorough Search. We like to examine things.

Background:

Necromancer’s Apprentice: You apprenticed under a necromancer—a hard education in a field where a cadaver you were dissecting could suddenly animate and every magical artifact seemed deadly. Now on your own, you're grateful you learned to identify magical threats quickly and thoroughly. Choose two ability boosts. One must be to Constitution or Intelligence, and one is a free ability boost. You're trained in the Arcana skill and the Necromancy Lore skill. You gain the Quick Identification skill feat.

To go back to the Frankensteinian origin. Though it’ll be ‘made by’ instead of ‘apprenticed under’ a necromancer, in this case, and the necromancer also had some more … esoteric interests as well.

As for what happened to said necromancer … Inbal doesn’t know. She’s gone. Not dead, Inbal doesn’t think, just. Gone. It’s a little hazy. A lot hazy. Something happened, and suddenly Inbal was all alone in the world. Suddenly they had to investigate mysteries and poke around strange flesh for their own curiosity, instead of their master’s. But, well. That’s all right. They have a lot of curiosity. And they’re a lot freer to try to help and talk to people on their own.

Background Feats:

Quick Identification: You can Identify Magic swiftly. You take only 1 minute when using Identify Magic to determine the properties of an item, ongoing effect, or location, rather than 10 minutes. If you’re a master, it takes a 3-action activity, and if you’re legendary, it takes 1 action.

Class, Subclass, Archetype

Investigator, Forensic Medicine, Eldritch Researcher

Yes, I want to take an archetype on Inbal. Eldritch Researcher just feels so fitting. We’re an occult detective with a medical streak. I’m only going to take a couple feats from it, but it’s so nice for flavour and a couple of specific little details.

Forensic Medicine: You've learned that in most cases, especially murders, criminals tend to leave more evidence of the crime on the body than they'd like to believe. Information from bruising, bone fractures, blood spatters, and even the life cycle of carrion insects can provide valuable clues that help reconstruct the scene. You're trained in Medicine and gain the Forensic Acumen and Battle Medicine skill feats. When you use Battle Medicine, on a success the target recovers additional Hit Points equal to your level, and the target becomes temporarily immune for only 1 hour, not 1 day.

Forensic Acumen: You understand the principles of forensic medicine, making you better at examining a body to determine the cause of death or injury. You can perform a forensic examination on a body, as described under Recall Knowledge in the Medicine skill, in half the normal amount of time it would take (to a minimum of 5 minutes). If you succeed at your check, you can attempt an immediate check to Recall Knowledge to follow up on something you found, with a +2 circumstance bonus. This check is usually related to the cause of injury or death, such as a Crafting check to identify a poison or weapon that was used or an additional Medicine check to identify a specific disease. If you prefer, you can instead attempt to Recall Knowledge about the type of creature whose body you were examining, using the appropriate skill and gaining the same circumstance bonus. The circumstance bonus increases to +3 if you have master proficiency in Medicine and +4 if you have legendary proficiency.

Battle Medicine: You can patch up wounds, even in combat. Attempt a Medicine check with the same DC as for Treat Wounds and restore the corresponding amount of HP; this doesn't remove the Wounded condition. As with Treat Wounds, you can attempt checks against higher DCs if you have the minimum proficiency rank. The target is then temporarily immune to your Battle Medicine for 1 day.

Eldritch Researcher (at Level 2): An eager student of occult lore, you enjoy reading rare or forgotten tomes with ancient rituals and hidden secrets. You connect disparate facts to unlock deeper mysteries and uncover the truths of the universe, and you zealously hoard the knowledge your painstaking research produces. Aberrations fascinate you for many reasons, not the least of which is because their anatomy is wholly alien and yet, to the insightful, eminently sensible.

Eldritch Researcher Dedication: You gain the ability to cast a single arcane or occult cantrip of your choice (which is heightened to a spell level equal to half your level rounded up). If you weren't already, you become trained in that tradition's spell DCs and spell attack rolls with Intelligence as your spellcasting ability. Regardless of whether you choose an arcane or occult cantrip, you also become an expert in your choice of either Arcana or Occultism. You also gain a +1 circumstance bonus to checks you attempt with the chosen skill when Investigating or Identifying Magic. Special You can't select another dedication feat until you've gained two other feats from the Eldritch Researcher archetype.

Statistics:

We’re going to start with 18 Intelligence, 14 Constitution and Dexterity, 12 Wisdom, and 10 Strength and Charisma.

We’ll finish at 20th level with 22 Intelligence, 18 Constitution, Wisdom and Dexterity, 16 Charisma and 14 Strength.

Skills:

Because Investigators are insane when it comes to skills, at 1st level Inbal will be trained in: Arcana, Crafting, Deception, Diplomacy, Intimidation, Medicine, Nature, Necromantic Lore, Occultism, Religion, Society, Stealth and Thievery.

By 20th level, they’ll be Legendary in Crafting, Diplomacy, Medicine, Occultism, Society and Stealth, as well as Master in Arcana. Because, again, Investigators are kind of insane for skills.

Planned Class Feats:

Scalpel’s Point: Prerequisites forensic medicine methodology. Your stratagems benefit from your precise knowledge of anatomy. When you critically hit with an attack on which you substituted your attack roll due to Devising a Stratagem, if your attack dealt piercing or slashing damage, you also deal 1d6 persistent bleed damage to your target.

Blind-Fight: Prerequisites master in Perception. Your battle instincts make you more aware of concealed and invisible opponents. You don't need to succeed at a flat check to target concealed creatures. You're not flat-footed to creatures that are hidden from you (unless you're flat-footed to them for reasons other than the hidden condition), and you need only a successful DC 5 flat check to target a hidden creature. While you're adjacent to an undetected creature of your level or lower, it is instead only hidden from you.

(Inbal’s cilia and augmented senses are doing a lot of work. A very sensory creature in general)

Suspect of Opportunity: Frequency once per hour. Trigger A foe takes a hostile action against you in combat. Sometimes something intrudes upon your case unexpectedly, such as an ambush sent to bring your investigation to a close. You've learned how to compartmentalize your main lead and pursue a new one for your current predicament. You Pursue a Lead against the triggering foe, setting aside but not ending one of your currently active leads, if you have two leads. At the end of the combat encounter, you stop Pursuing the Lead against the triggering foe and return to the original lead, if you have one.

Foresee Danger: Trigger A creature targets you with an attack and you can see the attacker. You perceive every possible way your foe's attack could land and attempt to avoid them all. The triggering attack roll targets your Perception DC instead of your AC. Though this allows you to avoid taking penalties to your AC, it doesn't remove any conditions or other effects causing such penalties. For example, an enemy with sneak attack would still deal extra damage to you for being flat-footed, even though you wouldn't take the -2 circumstance penalty when defending against the attack.

Reconstruct the Scene: You spend 1 minute surveying a small location (such as a single room) to get an impression of events that occurred there in the last day. This involves moving about the area and studying footprints, the placement of objects, spilled drinks or blood, and so forth. You get an indistinct mental impression of significant events that happened there. This gives you clues and details of the past, including the overall events and their time frame, but it's not a perfect record. This also isn't enough to identify who was involved in these events if you weren't already aware the person was there. As determined by the GM, you also pick out various seemingly small details that could serve as important clues, like a memorable weapon someone used for a murder or the type of cloak someone wore when passing through.

Trickster’s Ace: Requirements When you make your daily preparations, you must specify a trigger for this reaction using the same restrictions as the triggers for the Ready action. You also choose a single spell from the arcane, divine, occult, or primal list of 4th level or lower. The spell can't have a cost, nor can its casting time be more than 10 minutes. The spell must be able to target a single creature, and you must be a valid target for it. Trigger You specify the trigger when you make your daily preparations (see Requirements below). Whether from jury-rigged magic items, stolen magical essence, or other means, you have a contingency in your back pocket for desperate situations. When the trigger occurs, you cause the spell to come into effect. The spell targets only you, no matter how many creatures it would affect normally. If you define particularly complicated conditions, as determined by the GM, the trigger might fail. Once the contingency is triggered, the spell is expended until your next daily preparations.

(We’ve dabbled in a bit of occult spellcasting before, after all, from ancestry and archetype, so why not dabble some more)

And to cap:

All the Time in the World: Your firsthand experience of the subjective nature of time and space has given you new observational insights. Your mind processes information so quickly that time appears to stop for all creatures but you. You can take up to 9 actions in 3 sets of up to 3 actions each. During this time, you can use purely mental and observational abilities such as Recall Knowledge, Seek, and Devise a Stratagem, and you can use an action to move a mental projection of yourself to a location within a 60- foot radius to observe objects more closely and from different angles, though you can't affect your surroundings in any way (for instance, you could move your mental projection more closely to a distant door to read a minute inscription on its handle, but you could not open it to observe the other side). When the duration elapses, time resumes its normal flow.

If you can’t already tell, Inbal is definitely going to be running on a theme of sensing things. Heh.

Planned Archetype Feats:

Strange Script: Prerequisites Eldritch Researcher Dedication. You have such familiarity with obscure texts that you can compel them to reveal their secrets. Once per day, you can touch a single text (such as a tome, a wall of hieroglyphics, or something similar) and understand its meaning for 1 hour. If the text is in multiple languages, you gain the ability to understand them all for only the purposes of reading the text. If the text is in a code or cypher, you don't automatically understand the text, but you gain a +2 circumstance bonus to checks to decipher it.

(I’m going to merge this with one of the skill feats I wanted to take, Read Psychometric Resonance, and flavour it as being able to sense the meaning as a psychometric resonance.)

Entities from Afar: Prerequisites Eldritch Researcher Dedication. You can call in aberrations to fight for you or to answer questions. You can cast summon entity as an innate occult spell once per day. If you couldn't already cast occult spells, these spells use Intelligence as your spellcasting ability, and you become trained in spell attack rolls and spell DCs for occult spells; if you could already cast occult spells, your proficiency in spell attack rolls and spell DCs for occult spells increases to expert. As soon as the aberration arrives, instead of giving it any other commands, you can demand that it help you with a single question you pose to it. For the creature to effectively answer, you must Sustain the Spell for 1 minute, and you must understand and be understood by the aberration. If you do, the aberration gives you a cryptic clue as provided by the read omens spell, except that the clue is even more enigmatic than normal; the creature then immediately returns from whence it came without providing you any other benefit. At 16th level and every 2 levels thereafter, the summon entity spell is heightened by 1 level (to a maximum of 8th level when you reach 20th level).

(… Look, Inbal’s already 90% Aberration, they might as well get to call some up for help occasionally)

Planned Skill Feats:

I’m going to mention these, because there’s some specific skill feats I want for the vibe and to build flavour in and around class/ancestry feats.

In particular I want:

Read Psychometric Resonance: Prerequisites trained in Occultism. With a touch, you can read the psychic impressions left on objects by their previous owners. This exploration activity functions similarly to Detect Magic in that you move at half your travel speed or slower while looking for psychometric resonance. You must brush your bare hands over any objects you pass while you do this. This detects objects with significant emotional resonance attached to them, such as the joy from a child's beloved teddy bear, the sorrow from a widower's wedding ring, or the fear from a victim's murder weapon. If you're looking for a particular type of emotional resonance, you can choose to ignore other emotions. If you find an item with that resonance, you can explore that resonance with the following action. Psychometric Assessment (concentrate, divination, emotion, exploration, mental, occult) Requirements Your bare hands are touching an object in which you detected psychometric resonance; Effect You spend 1 minute concentrating on the object to get a vision of the face of the person who imbued the item with such emotion in the first place. If the associated emotion is painfully negative, you might take 1d6 psychic damage, as determined by the GM.

PF2e has a psychometry skill. I love it. You don’t know how much. Like I said above, I want to build this with a few things, like Inbal’s sensory cilia from Surgewise, and the Strange Script feat from Eldritch Researcher. Their spidery fingers and swaying tendrils give them glimpses beyond the physical. They were made to feel things and to explore things, and they’re not unhappy about it.

On a theme of occultism and sensing things, I also want Arcane Sense, Consult the Spirits: Occultism, Recognise Spell and Quick Recognition. Root Magic is more protection than sensing, but that also fits in pretty well.

On a theme of Medicine, because it’s how they make their little space in the world, how they help, how they convince people not to murder them, I would also like Ward Medic, Robust Recovery, Advanced First Aid, Paragon Battle Medicine, and Legendary Medic.

All of this is possible, by the way, because, as mentioned, Investigators are ridiculous when it comes to skills and skill feats and they get twenty million of them. So on top of those, we can add on some of the usual suspects like Swift Sneak, Foil Senses, and Legendary Sneak, because Inbal is gonna need to be sneaky, because they’ve got to skulk around the edges of the world and avoid being hacked up as an abomination. Streetwise and Legendary Codebreaker from Society, because they’ll need some mundane mystery-solving abilities, and Codebreaker fits nicely with Strange Script too, in that by higher levels they’ve sensed enough to learn how to decode languages manually and permanently, instead of just reading meanings in the moment. And then we’ll throw in Magical Crafting, Craft Anything and Legendary Negotiation, because Investigators just have all the skills. All of them. Heh.

Spells: As a small side note, by the time they finish, between various feats, Inbal will also have a small collection of mostly occult spells available to them: Haunting Hymn, Detect Magic, Telepathy, Summon Entity and Black Tentacles.

And … that’ll be Inbal the Listener. A strange skulker around the edges of the light, with a curious form and a curious mind, looking to help and to explore in equal measure.

[swearomerta]

went ahead and did this quiz for Dom and Adrian cause who doesn't love a daemon au and.

results:

Adrian with a rottweiler daemon: Your daemon would take the form of a Rottweiler! You are a courageous and protective individual who is deeply contemplative of yourself and others. More so than others with dog daemons, those with Rottweilers are strong-hearted and trust in their instincts. They are defensive of what they love but devoted to their friends.

Dom with a lion daemon: Your daemon would take the form of a lion! You are an authoritative and courageous individual who has a large sense of dignity. More so than others with wild cat daemons, those with lions are drawn towards leading causes and have a natural brash and self-assured nature. They are proud and just people, whose confidence makes their tempers flare when challenged.

I'm wheezing that Dom got a lion OF COURSE HE GOT A LION it's so stereotypical. yet perfect

ok ok so let me expand on these.

I want Dom to have a female maned lion. there are female lions out there that start growing a mane due to hormonal imbalances and act more like male lions (including roaring, scent marking, killing young etc).

her name's Ashaiwa (privately, affectionately, just Asha) and she settled quite early. she initially looked like a normal lioness but as Dom got into his later teens she started growing a mane. it's a less impressive mane than a normal male's but viewed in isolation and without comparison you'd assume she's a male lion. it's a golden brown colour, not super dark but still noticeably contrasting her body fur.

people with same-sex daemons are very unusual. sometimes Dom informs people she's a female lion and sometimes lets them assume she's a male depending on what best suits his needs or what best gives him an angle with the person in question.

privately, he's not sure how he feels about her appearance and what that may say about him. she challenges traditional gender roles just in the way she exists, and that's not something he's very comfortable with. when she first started growing a mane they both were alarmed by it and tried to reverse it; now it's just something that they're dealing with.

Ashaiwa feels self-conscious in knowing she's not a "normal" daemon and doesn't reflect her human normally. though she carries herself regally and will absolutely roar if needed she feels like something is wrong with her manifestation and what that may mean for Dom - she worries about him, and about his inability to examine what her appearance truly means for the both of them.

that, and everybody knows that male lions are the figureheads of any pride, while the female lions do the work. they both feel a bit trapped inbetween. does it mean that Dom is a false leader, or does it mean that he maybe wasn't intended for this position but it doing it well enough that it has changed him? they don't know. it's something they may overthink and talk a lot about when there's no one else around.

Ashaiwa is quiet and speaks almost only to Dom, unless he's instructed her otherwise. she is an imposing and large presence in any room and may roar or growl to ensure Dom has attention and is correctly seen as an intimidating figure. Dom often has a hand in her mane in an absent way as she sits or stands next to him. neither of them are very affectionate in public but may sometimes rest close together in private.

ok, now Adrian.

after some thinking, I've decided his daemon is a rottweiler golden retriever mix. looking past the more substantial analysis, rottweilers are often associated with aggression which is thematically interesting but I think gentling the outward appearance of the rottweiler as a dog helps his character come across better. as a bonus, rottweilers were frequently used as police dogs, and this way there's a kind of foreshadowing in his actual soul that police work isn't right for him/he's not good as a cop, while at the same time making him less obvious to mafia members in this AU scenario.

her name's Reah, short for Astereah. Adrian only ever calls her Reah, and even close friends and family have forgotten on several occasions what her full name is.

not knowing from the get-go exactly what type of dog Reah is has caused some senses of loneliness and alienation from his peers on occasion, but it's just about finding community; Adrian's not the only person with a mixed dog breed or mutt daemon, and has been adviced by others in this situation to just understand her and himself as best as he can with the information he has about her and to not stress about it.

knowing she's very obviously part rottweiler has shaped some of Adrian's expectations of himself, which has led to kind of a skewed understanding of himself because he's not working with the full picture, just the most obvious one. unlike Asha, though, Reah's very chill about not knowing exactly what type of dog she is and is happy to categorize herself as a dog, asking Adrian if he's really all that concerned about "what kind of human" he is as a counter. she constantly reminds him not to worry too much about it and that they'll figure it out eventually, if it matters.

Reah can look plenty intimidating if she wants to, but she's not naturally aloof and is quite expressive. going undercover was a difficult adjustment for them both because Reah had to change a lot more than Adrian in order to fit into the situation they're now in, which is the first time she truly felt stressed out about things and the tables turned to Adrian trying to reassure her.

Adrian and Reah sometimes play fight or the like to keep themselves occupied, and when they sleep or things are bad they're very affectionate with each other, lots of petting, face licking and Reah sprawling in his lap.

so both Adrian and Dom have something a bit "wrong" with their respective daemons that they can bond over and sort of help each other with. Adrian definitely initially assumed Ashaiwa was a male lion and was intimidated by her, but as Reah started getting to know Asha and Adrian Dom, he now views her very differently. he can sense some of her anxiety and views her quietness more as something introspective than as intimidation.

Dom on the other hand initially kind of glossed over Adrian as just another dog daemon (there are quite a few of them around, both in the police force and in the mob, even if the mob tend towards more wild dogs) but on second look he sees that Reah isn't easily identifiable, which intrigues him because that makes Adrian a bit of a mystery as well; more than what's on the surface.

hi I love daemons so much

[pinklayla123]

okay idk if you answer asks but i saw your post about the “coincidences” that like maybe aren’t and i’ve already i sent part of this to another account but idk if they’re active anymore and booktok and the ig community are too much for me because i can’t hide behind anon but i was wondering the same thing, i don’t read a lot of the theories out there because they seem too far fetched to me but i was thinking isn’t it weird that after the Archeron mom died they lost everything. If she had a child (Nesta) with a Fae or a male Witch she would’ve been conceived during Amarantha’s rule and could’ve (given Rhys keeping the Inner Circle on his payroll) gotten some sort of child support for keeping the kid safe and maybe a blessing from the person she conceived Nesta with leading to the birth of Elain and Feyre therefore two blessed mortals by either a Witch of Fae of some power and maybe that was why Papa Archeron rode in one the ship named after Nesta who essentially (if this is true) by being born gave that man his wealth and he felt like he owed the Fae something aka his life. Lanthys also didn’t say Nesta wasn’t a Witch but that she didn’t smell like Oorid and the overlap between Throne of Glass Witches and Nesta is a lot more than i can cross examine like Blue Annis being described as an Iron-Teeth Witch meaning it’s possible Crochan Witches exist in Prythian as well.. like Witches being able to sense storms and hear the roaring of the wind in their ears and whenever Nesta is pissed the weather reacts… the Dead Trove could be similar to the Witch Mirrors and other objects Witches could supposedly make and Crochan witches can have magic similar to Fae, like the entire book Silver Flames was spent listening to everyone say how not mortal Nesta has been her entire life and she even said she was her mothers creature and if this is the case it sounds like Azriel refusing his Illyrian side and as we know her and him are close. What if she felt something recoil in her if she she had gotten near the wall looking for Feyre like she knew if she went out there she wouldn’t come back so she sent others out there because imagine how different the books would’ve been if Amarantha got a hold of Nesta... I’m rambling so i’ll stop because this is probably unhinged but like Nesta wasn’t allowed to give up all of her Magic to save Feyre and maybe because that’s what she was born with like that amount of Magic and her mother made her suppress it and similar to Feyre wanting her to train her mother may have made her take dance to expel her magic in some way also if her mother had a child with a Fae- Ash Wood stops Fae healing and Rowan cut Aelin’s ears into points to make her shift, maybe to save her child Mama Archeron cut her daughters ear points off? and the Cauldron just regenerated her, maybe Elain couldn’t be as connected to the Cauldrn as Nesta and she knew that deep down and her instinct was to keep Elain away from it like with Feyre and the drawers because like Feyre- Elain was made but maybe Nesta was just regenerated or healed back to who she originally was.

Me reading this ask

Okay, so I think that all three sisters are biologically mama and papa Archeron's. It's mentioned that despite the fact that mama Archeron wasn't even a parent, she did love her husband, and something similar was said for him as well, so I don't think she had an affair with someone.

From what I remember, papa Archeron's money was accumulated by generations of his ancestors who were merchants, and he was on the brink of losing it because of a series of bad decisions. I think the reason why it all came crashing down after mama Archeron's death is because he wasn't thinking straight and made a dumb decision to risk everything out of desperation.

However, you're right, it's very interesting how SJM keeps bringing up the "Nesta was never truly mortal" thing. I read that as her having a strong intellect and personality in a "she was destined for more than balls and parties and a rich husband" kind of way, like when Rhys calls her an Illyrian, but it could also allude to some non-human ancestry in the bloodline, possibly on mama Archeron's side as Nesta was most like her so maybe those genes are strongest in Nesta. (Adding to this, it's also very interesting that the bargain magic chose the Starborn symbol for Nesta, how does that connect to everything?)

I think that all the other weird stuff happening with her, like Lanthys saying she smells weird, the environment being affected by Nesta's emotions, many people calling her a witch, and her intense connection to the Cauldron boils down (pun intended) to the fact that she took a huge chunk of the Cauldron's power in her fury. Like, this piece was substantial enough that the king of Hybern was allocating resources to getting Nesta back so the Cauldron would be back at 100% power, so she probably took a lot more power than was given to Elain, making her connection to the cauldron much stronger.

If Nesta was truly something other than human as a child, I think her mother would have given her more attention beyond dancing lessons and teaching her manners. Her mother is described as a vain social-ladder climber, and she would have used Nesta's ancestry to her advantage somehow if this were the case. If Nesta had been born with the power she has at the end of acosf, there would have been some mention of "this power was familiar to her, it had been hidden in chest her entire life, waiting to be freed" or something. I think the power Nesta is left with at the end of acosf is either from mercy or kindness on the Mother's part or she has larger plans for Nesta which require her to keep some of what she stole from the Cauldron.

This got really long, but in summary, I think that the Archeron sisters were originally human with maybe a dash of some magic in the bloodline. I think more than that though, it is a case of fate weaving its threads across centuries to get all these people together (the Archeron sisters and the Bat Boys) and giving them the powers needed to help right an ancient wrong (the Daglan and the corruption of the Cauldron).

[flightlessnotfightless]

I've had this thought for a while and couldn't find if anyone's done something like it, but...

Has anyone created an art installation that's like "a room/house/building designed for women"?

I recently read Invisible Women: Exposing Data Bias in a World Designed for Men by Caroline Criado Perez, and it has me thinking about how much of the modern built environment has been designed by and for men, without major (or sometimes any) consideration for women. This would be an exercise in considering measurements, abilities, psychology and biology of a sample population that doesn't include men.

A quick, simple thing comes to mind immediately: the room temperature in an office might be raised by just a few degrees to be more comfortable for the average woman, rather than the average man.

And now I just start asking quesions.

Are items and signs located in optimal locations so they are accessible? Women are, on average, a bit shorter then men, and our reach is a bit more limited. Can we store objects within reach, or incorporate tools to make these objects more accessible? Are these items in units that are small enough for us to comfortably carry?

Are the handles the appropriate size for our grips? What about the tools themselves? Many injuries are caused by tools that are a bit too large or heavy to be used safely and comfortably. Do those tools require a higher grip strength than we can comfortably achieve?

Does the PPE for a job actually fit a woman's shape, or is it just men's size XS/S?

Is the standard 3' kitchen countertop height actually optimal for the average woman? Are our chairs and tables at comfortable heights and proportions? Would a slightly different proportion to our living spaces ease some of the aches and pains women experience on the day to day?

What might a car designed for women look like? A different seatbelt, that won't injure us because our chests didn't allow the belt to lay properly? A seat designed to better absorb crash shock for a, on average, lighter body? A console proportioned so the airbag is directed at my chest, not my face, and I can reach controls more easily?

(As the book mentions, most car manufactures do not test a female test dummy when they are determining their crash safety. If they say they do, it is usually just a slightly scaled down male one, not one modified to match typical female weight distributions. Yes, I am mad about this.)

Is my backpack a shape that distributes its weight comfortably on a female torso, or is my chest in the way of the straps again, so it's putting strain on my shoulders?

What would a bathroom look like, if it were optimized for women? Is the toilet at a comfortable height? Is the sink a comfortable reach?

We know the way a line forms outside the women's toilets during intermission at a show. What would a true ratio of men's to women's restrooms need to look like in order to not have that line form?

What makes women feel safe? What qualities of a place indicate security, and how do they vary from a man's experience? How can we incorporate this into communities? This very likely varies on a cultural basis, so it is something to examine community by community.

How would it feel to walk into a place that was designed specifically for women? As a woman? Would a man notice a difference?

I don't think a well-designed space for women would actually have to differ so much from a space designed under universal design principles (design meant to accommodate all ages, disabilities, and other factors). But, in confirming that, we definitely need to close some data gaps. It turns out, a lot of things we have barely begun to investigate.

I think assembling a space designed specifically for woman with the research to back it up could lead to some beneficial developments in design.

It would at the very least be interesting.

(A related article)

[deuterosapiens]

It occurs to me that June is almost over, and July is about to begin. Pride Month is gone, the way of the Dodo, and I haven't said anything about it, talked about it. Feels like I should, though I couldn't really think of anything to say that was worth saying.

It's weird to me. I don't have the sort of history that's grief-wrought. I don't have the pain or the experiences that others have, nor a story that's courageous or inspirational. I mean, I have a history of emotional abuse from my father, but that's got nothing to do with me being gay. He more-or-less stopped after I came out (probably realized that disowing his gay son would inherently make him look terrible or something, I don't know).

So. What's there to say?

I consider myself to be a homosexual. I went through various mental processes that resulted in that conclusion because simply calling yourself "gay" isn't exactly a thing that one should do in my part of the world (though I suppose it's quite a bit better for me than for many, many others). In the single digits, I didn't think about girls. In the early doubles, I still didn't. 'Sure, bisexual then,' I would think when I thought about it at all. Then on-line I discovered the word demisexual and felt like that was as good an identity as any. Not really. Call a rabbit a rabbit. "You are GAY." Nothing fancy or complicated.

Waited until I left for University though to start actually exploring that in finer detail. Had a boyfriend then, not just a crush whom I would think of randomly at night but never bother to talk to. Had the humorous revelation later that some of those guys I'd think about were varying degrees of LGBTQ+, but that's them, and they moved on and away, and really so did I. That first-year boyfriend and I broke up, I was devastated. Mind snapped and I kind of went crazy.

The road to recovering my sanity from that break-up was paved with poor decisions and some, shall we say, a somewhat lax set of personal standards regarding preferences for partners. Discovered the Lars von Trier film Nymphomaniac (not strictly relevant to this story, just felt like dropping it in). Got back to square one with myself though, which was not just good, but good enough.

Rimshot.

At work I'm something of a punchline. I make and take jokes at my expense. I'm the brooding gay with the all græy wardrobe, and the obsession with jackets in the summer. I'm also heat-proof, reasonably so.

Flash-forward to this year, I guess. Two very specific, unrelated events, lead me to question if my assumptions about myself were, strictly speaking, as true as I thought they were. I'd given no thought to myself as a cis-male, for the same reason I don't exactly think too much of myself as a gay-male. The idea of that simply not being the case never occurred to me. Then, during a conversation with a coworker, they revealed that they'd spent the entire time thinking I was non-binary. Which again, never really came up as a consideration of mine.

So suddenly that question was in the back of mind. Then, after reading Redfern Jon Barrett's Proud Pink Sky, the question came up again, this time digging into me. Like a Cenobite's meathooks digging into the mental flesh of my understanding of my own gender expression and presentation.

I'm still not entirely certain where I've landed myself on that. Am I non-binary? Am I something that lies outside that spectrum? I don't have an answer. I don't really believe in binary dichotomies as a part of our natural world anyway. Even something as simple as day and night has dawn, dusk, evening. The afterlight. Not so binary at all, when examined closely.

For the time being, I continue to view myself as male, for simplicity, and because I have simply not explored this whole world of potentiality in its entirety. I'm still looking to understand, in its entirety, what I am with regards to myself.

Not a very good conclusion, I suppose, but that's an ongoing thing. I've got a thing for Labyrinths, and I guess it's fitting that my late night introspection should lead me into one. What can I say, I'm just a humble gargoyle.

So, nothing important to say that hasn't been said a thousand times a thousand times, and by a million times a million people who are far more equipped to tell it.

For a long time, I had a difficult time loving, or even liking, myself. I'm getting better at that. Kind of. Being something else besides the thing I am at work, at home, in my day to day life, something entirely separate of that person-suit, has helped.

The beauty of anonymity: I'm more myself than I am when I'm myself.