#to hear as many possible perspectives as we can manage

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 32

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 31 🟣 Part 33

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August, Sherlock, Charles, Melot and Napoleon

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: ongoing vampire shenanigans, Melot's ongoing identity crisis, purple (or at the very least lavender) prose, angst, mentions of: child marriage, cheating, (internalized) homophobia, religious trauma, abuse, SA. Mentions of grey sweatpants, inappropriate anger at the inventor of jeans, Awkward Virgin trope, blood, biting, bruising, praise kink, the untimely demise of a shirt, awkward groping, (awkward everything), handjob, blowjob, premature-ish ejaculation, wasting water by taking a shower that later proves to have been absolutely fucking useless, Frotting/rubbing/dry humping (not sure what to call this, tbh. A butt-job?), rimming (eating ass, analingus, pick your fave), light D/s dynamic, light brat behavior, hair pulling, more praise (possibly slight feminisation? Depending on how youd define that?), masturbation, deepthroating, throatfucking, oral creampie, cumswapping/cumkissing, elements of subspace + subdrop, aftercare.

Word count: 14.004 (Yes. 14k. You read that correctly.)

A/N: Well, well, well, what here we have? It started with this sweet ask from @geralts-yenn, and... what can I say? Things got out of hand? (Understatement.)

It quickly became clear to me that there was a lot more to unpack than I had originally counted on, and then the boys turned out to be... well, dirty little whores. So...

I considered making this a bonus-chapter because this is written from Melot's POV, but since it slots into the timeline, I decided against that. I will, however be changing the tense and POV (from past tense to present, and from 2nd person to 1st person POV) from here on out, because over time I've simply come to prefer writing that way. I'll also be writing more chapters from the boys' perspectives—I'm working on one from Leon's POV that isn't too far off in the future (storyline-wise... actual real-life time-wise, one can never know.)

Also: I'm literally begging everyone to come into my comments (or DMs, or asks) to talk about these boys because... Well, I just love them so much. I already did, but it's literally so much worse now, lol.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo @mysweetlittledesire

I’m afraid to open my eyes, knowing that if I do, I’ll be staring right back into the reflection of my own soul.

There’s no hiding from him—not that I want to. At least, I think I don’t.

I sit still, counting the seconds as they tick away on the clock in the living room. I’m the only one who can hear it from anywhere in the house—anywhere on the property, even. If I try hard enough, that is.

The sound has been my anchor for centuries. Sometimes, it feels more familiar to me than the beating of my own heart. Unsurprisingly, I might add. How could it not be, when everything about me exists for the sole purpose of looking outward.

Oftentimes, my visions have prevented me from gaining a more intimate knowledge of myself, and they continue to do so to this day. It’s been this way throughout my entire existence.

Fourteen hundred years. Fourteen centuries.

My senses are honed to perfection. Beyond it, even—although many would argue the impossibility of the proposition, but it’s exactly what a millennium and a half will do to you.

I know that better than anyone. How could anyone know better? For all we know, I might very well be the oldest vampire on the planet.

The scoff I attempt to choke back finds its way to freedom as a nigh imperceptible faltering in my otherwise steady breathing.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he whispers softly. I feel his fingertips creep closer to mine before they actually do, yet I am startled by the sensation of him touching me.

I resist the urge to pull my hand back, just as I’ve been resisting the urge to flee the room and never return. A part of me, I am most unwilling to admit, even wants to attack.

He wouldn’t stand a chance.

He’d be dead before he even realized I’d moved.

Oh, to become something you’ve been taught to fear—and to think this is hardly my first battle of the sort. I’d give up the hope that they ever get easier, if I hadn’t known for a fact they don’t for the longest time.

‘You like boys.’

These words have haunted my dreams for the past two days. Left me alone for nary a second since the moment they fell freely and innocently from Mike’s beautiful lips.

Spoken with no ill intent, they wrapped themselves around every inch of every branch of my consciousness, constricting it more and more with every last breath I took, their truth so immediately undeniable that I was forced to admit to it.

And that means there is no way back for me now.

When Mike told me that I’d have time for an identity crisis later, I don’t think he realized just how right he was, and I can’t blame him for his ignorance. I don’t doubt for a second that it was completely unintentional.

As much as he hates it when we say it, he is just a baby, born into a fairly secular household in the sixties, but more importantly; involved in all kinds of generally more accepting subcultures from a relatively young age…

He’s had his struggles, of course. But as strange as it is to say, because one has to admit they were significant, they are irrelevant at this current time.

On the other side, we have… well, me.

Forced into a political marriage at fourteen in early medieval Cornwall, to a girl even younger than I was, our wedding night consisting of nothing but a tear-filled pact made between two terrified children under the cover of darkness, to forego the consummation of our marriage.

Instilled in me, a fierce loyalty and the staunch belief that a man lay with no one but his own wife, and a wife with no other person than her husband, I devoted myself to her as best I could, given our circumstances.

That there was no love between us mattered not, for we had been united before God.

Not unlike today, however, inappropriately crude and explicit conversations with my peers had made me far more knowledgeable on the subject of reproduction than I otherwise would have been, given my lacking experience.

For years, I slept by her side, riddled with guilt over our failure to fulfil our marital duties toward one another, praying every waking minute for the ability to be a better husband.

I shed my tears over her betrayal in private as I prepared to welcome a child into my life—a child I knew couldn’t possibly be mine.

Every day of my life, I am grateful for the existence of specialized historical trauma psychologists: They were of indescribable and immeasurable value when I was struggling to unite the unpleasant aspects of my upbringing and ‘early’ non-human life—the first thousand years, give or take—with the modern world I somehow found myself in rather more suddenly than I had ever expected.

The past certainly has a way of sneaking up on you, but I wouldn’t dream of underestimating the present in that particular respect.

Alas, as helpful as my therapists have been, their efforts feel wasted in this moment, because Mike dragged me onto a new road of self-discovery that appears to contain several unexpected challenges.

Challenges I am afraid of.

Challenges I am ashamed of.

As mentioned before: for the second time in my fourteen hundred years, I have become something I was taught to fear, and despite my convictions that I had overcome my prejudices, that I had moved past this darkness of fear and hatred, it seems to be the case that nothing could be further from the truth.

A shocking revelation. Truly.

I find no solace in the fact that I was never taught to hate, though it is true. One is almost never directly taught to hate, for the simple reason that it is far easier to teach fear than hatred.

But fear breeds hatred.

I learned to fear the sin, which led me to hate the sinner, and there is no excuse for that.

This, I have always known.

Over time—more time than I care to admit—my hatred disappeared, and I took pride in that, for I had shown growth, and an ability to learn and adapt.

I had evolved.

How upsetting it is, then, to be forced to come to the realization that somewhere along the line, I seem to have come to the conclusion that to cease fearing for others’ condemnation would suffice in terms of accepting them.

In other words: If they want to go to hell, let them!

And now that it’s me, I find that I suffer still from that very same fear of a god I have long since stopped believing in.

The line between truly knowing that something isn’t sinful, and simply not caring when others sin, is remarkably thin.

And I am standing right on top of it.

“It wouldn’t help,” Mike whispers, just as my desire to ask him what I want surges, threatening to wash me away.

Two lonely tears escape my still closed eyes, allowing me to focus on their path down my cheeks as they fight the resistance my skin provides.

I thank them silently.

“Why not?” There is no point in trying to keep the defeat from shining through in my voice.

“Because you want it all,” he replies. I expect to hear pity in his voice, and its absence surprises me nearly as much as his answer. No matter how much I want to ask him, my voice refuses to lend me its cooperation.

Not that it matters. After all, Mike knows.

“There is no ‘one desire’, Melot,” he continues, making me shiver as he drags a single finger down the back of my hand. “In the past thirty seconds alone, you’ve cycled through ‘fight, flight, freeze’ more times than I can count. You want to jump me—either to kiss me or kill me. You want to run, hide, talk, think, cry, scream, punch something—not me, please. You want answers, and to desperately not need answers because you want there to not be a question that needs answering to begin with.”

“I never wanted to kill you,” I mumble, the characteristic heat of embarrassment creeping up to my cheeks in a staggering tempo.

Mike chuckles. I’m not proud of what the sound does to me, but good Lord it feels amazing. “That’s the thing, Melmel,” he muses quietly, “the fact that I felt it, means it was a genuine desire. Granted, it didn’t last long, but it was there. And I get it.”

“I was never going—” More tears tread in their predecessors’ footsteps, their heat blending in nicely with the scorching glow of embarrassment that plagues my skin.

“I know,” he reassures me. “You have a whole rational brain I don’t have access to—that’s Marshall’s territory, not mine. My point is: you can’t ‘sorta’ want something. Okay, you can, in the sense that there’s a scale to how much you want something—a range from ‘want’ to ‘need’—but there’s no such thing as a half-desire. A desire is a desire.”

I wince at the implication of his words as guilt washes over me like a tidal wave, while Mike continues: “Your tiny little—but genuine—want to brutally murder me was immediately overshadowed by a very strong need for me to be… not dead.”

“Was there anything useful in the entire list?” I’m surprised by my ability to squeeze out an entire sentence, if I’m being honest.

Mike chuckles again, and my whole body feels like it’s made of carbonated liquid. “The desire to call your therapist is probably a good one,”—he pauses for a moment, letting out a cheeky chuckle—“and I would selfishly vote in favor of any of the many more eh… carnal ones.”

I scoff. He speaks in jest, at least partially, and I refuse to dignify his nonsense with a response, so I move on. “Which is the most, eh… potent?”

“That’s a great way to phrase it, yeah,” Mike confirms. “And it’s definitely your overwhelming—and permanent, by the way—desire to be held by someone.”

I finally open my eyes, staring at Mike wide-eyed in nothing short of pure horror. How disappointing that the floor doesn’t melt away from under me right this second to spare me the mortification…

“Get your priorities straight, Melmel,” Mike admonishes me, a sweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You should be way more embarrassed about wanting to kill me than wanting to snuggle up to someone.” He scooches closer to me, quickly adjusting the mountain of pillows as he moves, and puts an arm around my shoulders. “Especially since we share that particular need.”

We sit in silence for a while, Mikey’s head on my shoulder, his arm around me. It triggers my visions, which isn’t at all surprising. In them, I feel none of the shame and guilt I do now—or did, moments ago—which is very reassuring, but as much as I would like to luxuriate in that feeling after my meltdown, Mikey’s much stronger reaction forces me to let them pass, acknowledged but without much further investigation.

He struggles to keep his fingers still, and I am facing similar difficulties in strangling whatever sound I feel I can’t afford to make freely.

“What do you need from me?” I practically have to force the words out of my mouth. “In this… courtship?”

Mike laughs. “As far as definitions go, that’s fair, but do you know a twenty-first-century word?”

“To describe you?” I elbow him in the ribs and roll my eyes. “I know several, and I doubt you’d be happy with any of them.”

“Jerk,” he huffs.

“That was one of them, yes.” I struggle not to laugh when Mike pouts and nudges me, failing miserably, and before I know it, I’m on my back with him hovering over me. My gaze is pulled towards his lips through no fault of my own. In my fourteen hundred years, I have never known anyone who scowls as adorably as Mikey does, and every corner of my thoughts occupied by the sight of his bottom lip sticking out slightly.

Completely involuntarily, my eyes follow the contours of that lip, and my mind gravitates towards images of us. Together.

I—

I bite back the moan that threatens to escape, and fight to regain control of my teeth. “We should talk first,” I manage, my words punctuated by labored breaths.

Mike nods, dropping onto his side next to me and propping himself up on one elbow. “It’s really simple,” he says plainly. Clearly, the past thirty seconds have been less taxing on his self-restraint than they were on mine… “We can take this as slowly as you need, obviously. But I need you to know the difference between what you’re ready for now, and what you know you’ll be ready for in the future.”

I nod. That’s the easy part of the equation.

Unfortunately, Mike may be a clown at times, but he wasn’t born yesterday. “And I need you to stick with the now-boundaries.”

I nod again, much less sure of myself this time, but I promise him to give it my very best effort.

“Of course, I’ll help. If necessary,” he continues. “But I refuse to rely on my gift to guard your limits. I need to know you feel comfortable, and safe, and confident enough to communicate your needs, okay?”

His concern for my safety and wellbeing is almost enough to bring me to tears all over again. If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that time does, in fact, not heal all wounds, and although I have come a long way, I cannot deny the lasting—possibly permanent—damage inflicted upon me by the coldest, darkest days of my past.

The times without love.

The times when I had no one but myself to care about me.

I sob my agreement to his terms, rather than say it. The sound of my breaking voice draws his brows together in a pitiful frown.

He bites his lower lip as he contemplates his next words, and I struggle to keep my head clear as his lips once again draw my attention away from the conversation, while the sorrow in his expression has me teetering on the edge of panic.

His expression hardens as he breathes in deeply before looking at me very directly. His eyes are cold, and my heart rate quickens at the sight.

“And,” he says softly but with unmistakable determination, “I’m not doing this behind closed doors.” He looks down, fidgeting with the duvet covers as he continues: “I’m not saying you have to come out to the entire world tomorrow—or explicitly to anyone at all, unless you want to, of course—”

“I wouldn’t even know what to come out as,” I admit almost reluctantly. At this point, I haven’t even begun to think about labels and definitions and whatnot.

“I mean… If we’re going to be dating, then one label that definitely applies is ‘the guy who’s dating Mikey’,” he says matter-of-factly. I have to admit he has a point. “I’m kinda big on PDA—I promise I won’t suck your face off in public, but hugs, or a kiss here and there… Like, I’m not going to let some guy who can’t even hold my hand at the movies, dick me down when we get home.”

He laughs at my expression, and I can’t blame him. I, myself, imagine it to be quite the sight; wide-eyed, mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land while my entire vocabulary seems to have vacated the premises…

“I’m sorry,” he snickers, “I didn’t mean to scare you. My point is: If you can’t love me in public, you don’t get to love me in private, that’s all.”

“Mikey…” I hesitate, attempting at the same time to swallow away the lump in my throat. It doesn’t work. “I promise—swear, even—that I will try, but I might need some time.”

“Progress, not perfection, Melmel,” Mike says as he leans forward to rest his forehead against mine for a moment. “I just want you to make an effort, okay?”

I nod furiously. Of course, I never truly expected him to toss me aside because I can’t adjust to all of this in a matter of days, but it’s a relief, nonetheless.

Now that my fears have been taken away, more visions come to me. The doom scenarios are entirely of my own making—I learned to tell the difference several centuries ago, but I can’t say that that knowledge has been in any way facilitative to my ability to disregard them.

However, I cannot deny that it is comforting that the majority of them are overwhelmingly positive, setting my body alight with a warm, soothing glow.

It makes me calm.

Happy.

It also makes me…

“For someone who’s struggling to come to terms with all of this,”—Mike’s voice is strained, the sound of it more of a moan than regular speech—“you are incredibly horny.”

My lips tremble as his hand cups the side of my face, his thumb gently trailing over my cheekbone.

I have to swallow before I can even speak. “I’m coming off a fourteen-hundred-year dry spell, Mikey.”

Mike’s eyes go wide with shock, perhaps even terror. “Fourt— w-what?” He looks adorable, his mouth slightly open, brows drawn together in disbelief. “Two days ago… That wasn’t your first kiss, right?”

I chuckle, but not from the heart. “It was certainly the first one I was a willing participant in,” I admit bitterly. The realization bites, digging its filthy, razor-sharp claws deep into my soul. “Not that the collection of instances of the other sort is by any means impressive.”

“Every last one of those is one too many, Melot,” Mike sighs.

I can’t stand to see the pity in his eyes, so I close mine again, focusing on his scent instead.

Every member of my coven—past or present—has an odor so unique to their person that I would happily wager that I’d be able to identify them from a mile away.

With everyone else, smell certainly serves as quite the handy tool when it comes to ascertaining their intentions—hostility, for instance, reveals itself quite readily by means of a distinct and exceptionally foul sour note—or their species—vampires in this day and age always smell faintly of blood and garlic, and however cliché one might deem it, werewolves reek perpetually of wet dog.

And then there’s my own family, blood and garlic aside.

I may have known Sherlock the longest, but I know Charles the best, which is why I can say with absolute confidence that I’d recognize the dark, brooding combination of leather and smoke in my sleep. It’s luxurious and alluring, its complex sophistication undeniable, but at the same time, it’s cold, distant and uninviting. It used to be different, but what little remains of the welcoming seduction of the past, is now dull and faded.

Sherlock, on the other hand—although every bit as strong and refined—smells warm, approachable and comforting, with a very pronounced overtone of sweet vanilla—which Mike, should I ever decide to discuss this particular subject with him, would probably find very typical and likely even funny. At some point in my life, I developed the strange habit of sitting outside Sherlock’s bedroom door when I miss him, just so his scent can comfort me—he has a way of showing up whenever I do.

August and Leon share the dark, bold and spicy edge to their scents. They’re matched for sensual promiscuity, but Leon leans further into the direction of exotic rebelliousness and playful deviance. August smells… calmer. More grounded.

Marshall smells remarkably similar to Sherlock, in a way. Only he trades the sweetness for something crisper and fresher, reminiscent of pine and fresh herbs. It feels almost strangely grounded and familiar, with a quiet strength and weight to it that borders on intimidating.

And then there’s Mike. It should surprise no one that he’s the odd one out, and although I wouldn’t describe the scent as that of bubblegum and jellybeans, I wouldn’t necessarily not describe it as such. It’s a rather untidy fragrance, that has an energetic flamboyance to its almost cacophonous complexity. Touches of woods and herbs ground the otherwise discordant bouquet of lush, tropical fruits and crisp, fresh citrus, combined with a selection of floral aromas that expresses something of a delicate… femininity. It’s youthful, vibrant, playful and mischievous, and more importantly, it’s the best damned thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to smell.

 Unthinkingly, I pull Mike closer, the tip of my nose tracing a gentle path up the side of his neck as I inhale deeply, savoring not only the scent, but also his warmth, pulse, and the feeling of his skin against mine as it transitions from the smoothness down by his shoulder to the scratchy stubble of the five o’ clock shadow on his jaw I’m embarrassed to admit I find quite attractive.

My senses are so thoroughly occupied with the attempt to soak up every crumb of these new, delightful experiences that I completely forget to care even the slightest bit about the quiet moan that slips past my lips.

Mike whines impatiently in reply, and when he suddenly moves, I struggle to keep up with the innumerable sensations that wash over me in rapid succession.

His breath on my ear, the delectable feeling of his weight on top of me, the tangling of our legs, his hand at the back of my neck, and its long, slender fingers traveling over my scalp… But much more pressing—and more annoying, I might add—is my acute and absolutely insufferable awareness of the suddenly too thick, coarse and rigid denim of my jeans as it moves over my skin in all the wrong ways while we adjust our position on the bed.

Not to mention that these godforsaken trousers, which fit me perfectly and comfortably less than half an hour ago, suddenly seem too tight—an experience that wouldn’t be unique to my person in the least, if Mike wasn’t very likely completely unbothered by such atrocities sensations due to the fact that he is wearing sweatpants.

Sweatpants which, much to my dismay, contribute to my own discomfort far more than I care to admit.

That is not to say Mike is unaffected by this situation. In fact, the evidence heavily favors the contrary, and the fact that I can feel his pulse… there, in combination with the thought that that means he can probably feel mine in approximately the same location, keeps distracting me from mentally drafting the letter of complaint I wish I had sent to Levi Strauss & Co. back in the 1870s.

I have never wanted out of a pair of trousers—or any other type of garment, for that matter—this badly in my entire existence. And for all the wrong reasons, too, for crying out loud!

A displeased whimper hits my ear, and by the time it dawns on me that I was the one who made it because Mikey suddenly disappeared, an unidentifiable pile of dark grey fabric lands on my stomach.

The person who put it there is standing next to the bed, towering over me with his arms folded across his chest. It would have been intimidating, if not for the hint of a smile that peeks through the stern mask on his face.

Mike points to the bathroom. “They’re sweatpants,” he says impatiently, “go put them on. Now. Please.”

My brain cycles through countless motives and explanations, but I’m so hopelessly behind on processing the events of the past minute, that it comes up completely empty.

I must look at least half as confused as I feel, because Mike can no longer fight back his smile. “Hey, normally I’d tell you to just take the jeans off, but I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves,” he chuckles. “If this is what it takes to keep you from violently longing to invent time travel so you can smack Jacob W. Davis and Levi Strauss over the head with a comically large wooden mallet, then…”

He makes a series of vague, impatient gestures at me, the sweatpants and in the general direction of the bathroom, all accompanied by an equally impatient and exquisitely adorable whine.

When I laugh, after deciding against telling him how cute he looks, Mike frowns, and his eyes narrow. “Mel, please,” he whines, “I really, really, really want to kiss you.”

Nervous as that makes me, I can’t deny that it’s exactly what I want too, and despite my legs feeling exceptionally uncooperative, I manage to make it to the bathroom in one piece.

I lean my shoulders against the wall, steadying myself as I attempt to regain control over myself, my chest heaving with every new breath.

The cold of the tile creeps through the fabric of my shirt with ease, grounding me.

Soothing me.

My thoughts, which are normally fairly organized, are a mess—an un-unravelable heap of pure chaos.

It’s anarchy!

Mike somehow manages to match the energy of an eight-week-old puppy attempting to herd sheep, with the exact same, very predictable and equally—if not more so—undesirable result.

And I’m the sheep.

I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip with force until I taste blood, but the visions keep coming.

My fingers—are they mine? If they were, one would assume I would know how to get them to fucking work, correct? When I put these jeans on this morning, this wasn’t the world’s most challenging button, so why won’t it open, for God’s sake?

I swear under my breath, screwing my eyes shut as if to squeeze the last bit of focus out of my brain that way. I must, however, come to the unfortunate conclusion that I am not a tube of toothpaste.

“You’re impossible.” Mike’s voice is hoarse, his chest moves rapidly in time with his equally erratic breathing, and his long fingers close effortlessly around my wrists with punishing force. “Get these hands out of the damn way and let me help you with that.”

Apparently, his wish is my command. Or perhaps, his command is my command. Either way, my hands are out of his way in a flash.

Barely a second later, the button and zipper of this treacherous denim contraption are no longer an obstacle, and I struggle to breathe as Mike leans his forehead against mine, dipping his fingertips tentatively into the now-loosened waistband of my trousers.

He holds me firmly in place as he steps closer, grinding his hips into mine. Out of reflex, I bite down on my lip again, piercing my skin, which lures a soft whine from my throat.

Before I can do anything, Mike passes his tongue over the wound before sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, and I seem to have suddenly forgotten how to breathe altogether.

“Now,” Mike says—‘growls’ would be a more apt description, perhaps, “take these off, put the sweatpants on—or don’t. Strip completely bare-ass naked for all I care, but get in my damn bed, please.”

 Hearing my own desperate need echoed in his voice makes my heart stutter—the cruel cold or Mikey’s sudden absence makes me restless.

I rid myself of my jeans as quickly as I can, and as I exchange them for the much more comfortable sweatpants, I can’t resist the urge to squeeze my throbbing erection through the fabric, desperately attempting to fight the thought of how much I need that hand to be his instead of mine.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Mikey snarls, his voice close to my ear and the scorching heat of his body comforting me once again. “I should drag you to bed by your balls, you little tease. Why are you out here wanting all these things, when we can be doing them in there?”

I want to say something, but even if my voice were cooperating, my vocabulary certainly wouldn’t be. In the end, nothing but a pathetic whine escapes me, making Mike chuckle.

He hooks two fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants, no doubt with the intention to tug me along towards the bed, but one catches behind the band of my underwear as well, putting more of me on display than I anticipated. I know Mike well enough to expect him to take a peek—and the urgency with which he does so immediately—and I find myself thoroughly enjoying the look of utter desperation and pure carnal need on his face as he fails to fight off a crooked smile, dragging his tongue along his upper lip.

I struggle to identify the feeling that washes over me, wringing out my insides as Mike’s playful smile widens, his gaze still locked on my groin. There is a strange sense of pride to it. At the same time, waves of anticipation struggle for power against nervousness.

The longer I look at his face, the stronger the anticipation becomes. He’s cute, with his mischievous smile, fangs out as he fights off the ragged corners of the desires he knows would likely push me a tad too far at this time.

But Mike can think of six things either simultaneously or in awe-inspiringly quick succession.

“Why does it happen? The fangs?” he asks quietly, amusement poorly concealed in his tone.

My laughter rings involuntarily, the sound bouncing off the tiles, echoing in my own mind as it once again struggles to keep up with everything that’s happening. “You’ve clearly never lived in a large coven,” I chuckle. “One so powerful that hiding your nature—and teeth—becomes completely unnecessary. Our natural instinct is to have them out. Even after centuries, one must have his wits about him in order to control them, and I don’t know about yours, but mine are halfway to Argentina by now.”

Mike’s grin widens as he takes a step back, finally guiding me back to his bedroom.

When the back of my legs meet the edge of the bed, his eyes darken. “I really want to do some dirty things to you, Melmel,” he whispers. The high-pitched whine that meets my ear must be mine, and unthinkingly I chase the pathetic sound away with a scornful chuckle which, most unfortunately, is followed by a sharp gasp as Mike pulls me closer by my hips until my body is flush against his. “Will you let me?”

The art of speech eludes me still, so I nod.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Mike says as he gently places a hand on either side of my face.

To be overcome with desire does not mean what I thought it did until now in the slightest. As soon as Mike’s lips touch mine, true desperate need comes crashing down on me, drowning out everything else.

His mouth is soft, but firm. His hands gentle as they move from my face, down my chest and stomach, to the sides of my hips, until they reach the back of my thighs. He picks me up effortlessly, of course, wrapping my legs around him before laying me down in the middle of the mattress.

Our moans effortlessly overshadow everything else that attempts to occupy my thoughts, only leaving room to experience pleasure. It’s all-consuming.

Powerful.

Cathartic, even.

Mike’s tongue licks gently at the seam of my lips, which part as if by magic to grant him entrance.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and I greedily reciprocate until…

“Fuck!” Mike pulls back, still laughing when he sticks out his tongue. It’s bleeding. “I forgot you have spare teeth.”

“I’m sorry.” I can’t bear to look at him as guilt washes over me, drowning out all the wonderful feelings from before.

“Don’t be,” he says softly, giving me a reassuring peck on the tip of my nose. “You can poke as many holes in me as you want, this just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

He presses his lips to mine again, this time with significantly more restraint—to start with, that is. Every time he rolls his hips, grinding them into mine, he loses a bit of that control.

I could say the same does not apply to me, but it would be such a blatant lie that it would be laughable at best.

When he bites my lip, he is careful not to break the skin, but the force is still enough to bruise me.

Whatever mark he leaves on me, with very few exceptions, will be gone before we’re even done here. Why does that strike me as such a tragedy?

The last remnants of Mikey’s gentle touch have disappeared now, as his fingertips dig into my shoulders, my hips, my thighs, with brutal force. It would certainly be enough to cause serious harm to someone less sturdy than either of us…

“God, I haven’t done this with another vampire in years,” Mike groans. The sound, deep, dark and dripping with lust, vibrates throughout my entire body.

I know he’s been with nymphs, shifters—were- or otherwise—and demons, and I don’t doubt that there have been many more rendezvous with many more species I haven’t the faintest clue about, but that knowledge proves to be of surprisingly little impact on this moment. “Tell me if I’m too rough with you, Mel. Please.”

Not at all, I wish to scream. I’ll take everything he’s willing to give me and more. So much more.

But I can’t seem to find my voice. Instead, I slide my hands into his shirt on a whim, dragging my nails down his back, reveling in the sense of pride and sensuality I feel as he arches to my… well, ‘touch’ would be quite the understatement, I suppose.

“Guess not, then,” he says with a devious grin as he grabs the hem of the t-shirt I just decided to ignore and pulls it over his head.

I’ve seen him without a shirt, of course. Goodness, I’ve seen him damn near naked on several occasions, but this time…

As he sits there, straddling my thighs, towering over me, my eyes wander down, taking in his broad shoulders, chest and abs. He’s lean, toned, but I wouldn’t describe him as particularly muscular. His pale skin is smooth all the way down to his navel, where my attention is captured by the thin line of dark hair that leads… down.

My hands make their way up his thighs until they rest on his hips, and without realizing, I speak. “You are so beautiful.”

I realize my error instantly, an overpowering sense of confusion surging through me as I watch Mike’s face light up.

“Yeah?” he asks excitedly as I continue my attempt to grasp why he sounds so pleased. My confusion must be apparent, because Mike laughs sweetly. “It’s okay, baby, you can call me beautiful all day, every day. Can I see if you’re pretty too?”

It clicks as soon as the word ‘pretty’ leaves his mouth, and I am suddenly overcome with the fear that he won’t see me that way while Mike fusses with the top button of my shirt.

He groans out of frustration. “Do you have any emotional attachment to this thing?” he growls almost aggressively as he grabs me by the collar of my shirt. I shake my head, once again unable to speak. “Good.”

The fabric tears almost too easily, and several buttons—four, to be exact—find their way onto the floor.

A long, desperate whine meets my ear as Mike rakes his fingers over my chest, down to my stomach, where he traces the faint line of hair with a single finger, all the way down to the waistband of my trousers, while I dig my fingers into his hips with more force than I intended. It makes Mike’s cock twitch, causing it to bump against my thumb, which lures a sharp gasp from me.

Mike reacts to it and the expression that has appeared on my face in the meantime without my knowledge, and certainly without my consent.

“Okay,” he taunts, “my pretty boy wants to play in the big leagues then?”

Despite my nerves, I find myself nodding in reply to his question, attempting once again to swallow the tightness in my throat away.

Mike kisses me, softly but enthusiastically—and most importantly: repeatedly—as he lies down next to me. Heat rises to my cheeks as he flashes me that goofy smile of his.

I was always under the impression that I found that smile particularly annoying. I guess I was wrong.

The one hand that is still on his hip relentlessly attempts to capture my attention, begging me to acknowledge its proximity to the part of Mike that currently has my imagination spinning completely out of control, but I can’t allow myself to comply with its demands just yet. Lord knows I’ll be swiftly rid of any ability to speak, which would be… unfortunate, to say the least.

Not that that particular ability isn’t greatly impaired to begin with, but we needn’t tempt fate further, I would say.

“I’ll be happy to tell you anything you want to know, Melot,” Mike whispers softly as he moves closer to me. It’s the strange fish-on-dry-land-esque performance attached to it that makes me laugh—and much louder than I had intended, too. In fact, I had no intention to laugh at all…

I snap my mouth shut and look away. Surely, my cheeks must be so red they are in fact aglow right now, mustn’t they?

Mike groans loudly, which twists the uncomfortable knot in my stomach, greatly worsening the unwelcome tightness I was already feeling.

To say I am in no way prepared for his words, would be an understatement.

“Mel, dude, Melmel, babe, Melly, my good sir,” he sighs, “where were you when they sent out the memo that this”—he gestures wildly at the both of us—“all of this, like… sex, is supposed to be fun?”

“Well, I—” Just hearing him describe what we’re doing as ‘sex’ brings forward a host of emotions I can either not identify or desperately wish I couldn’t, and it certainly helps my nerves in no imaginable way.

“Like, babygirl, I get it,” he continues, as I try to prevent having to invent a new shade of red to describe the color my cheeks will turn after this one, “you’re nervous. You’ve never done this. You’ve been told not to do this, with… well, pretty much anyone but definitely not another dude—which I’m sure will come back to bite you in that sweet little butt of yours, and we’ll deal with that fall-out together. But if we’re doing this, I need you to lighten up, okay?”

“But… How?” In my entire existence, I have never struggled to speak two simple words the way I did just now.

“For starters, there are two people here who I’m going to need you to not take too seriously,” he says matter-of-factly. “The first one is me, which is already true for… most scenarios outside of this one, I’d say. And the second one is you. You’re allowed to laugh, okay?”

The way he nips at the tip of my nose makes it impossible not to laugh. “Good boy,” Mike muses as I struggle to figure out why it feels so good to hear him say those words.

Without thinking about it, mostly for fear of discouraging myself, I wrap my free arm around him, pulling him tightly against me as I kiss him.

The added pressure of my arm against the small of his back is not enough to satisfy my need, so I boldly and unthinkingly lower my hand until it cups half of Mike’s backside.

Despite my lacking intentions to lose control of myself like this, I find myself feverishly grasping him, pulling him even closer as I dig my fingers into the flesh of his rear.

It’s surprisingly soft, yet surprisingly firm, and I find myself surprisingly eager to explore it further—the whole situation would best be described as, well… surprising, really, and Mike’s ardent whimpering tells me that he is not at all inclined to put an end to my endeavors.

Due to my sudden preoccupation with Mikey’s lovely behind, I am almost robbed of awareness of the fantastic experience of Mike, gently but greedily sliding his hands into my pants as he gently sucks my bottom lip into his mouth.

My grip around his waist slacks as he pulls his face back, still holding my lip firmly between his teeth, and he cocks an eyebrow at me, giving me the courage to mimic his movements.

For a moment, I am surprised to find that Mike is not wearing underwear, and then I remember who I’m in bed with. I’m not saying I should have expected this, but to pretend it’s in any way uncharacteristic, would be a lie.

His skin is smooth and warm, and the salacious moan he lets out catches in his throat, where it morphs into a gasp as my lips seek out his neck.

The urge to bite is strong, and I already know he wouldn’t mind, so…

“Fuck, Mel,” he moans sweetly as I bite down, effortlessly piercing his skin again and again, until his neck and shoulders are littered with marks.

Mike reaches behind his back, grabbing my wrist in order to drag my hand away from his ass, and towards the front of his sweatpants, where his erection strains against the fabric.

He presses my palm against the sizeable bulge while he begs me to bite him again, and I find myself more than happy to oblige.

A chuckle rolls off my tongue as soon as my teeth connect with his skin, and I softly squeeze his twitching cock, which draws the sweetest whimpers from Mike’s gorgeous lips.

“Mel, please,” he whispers, barely managing to squeeze the words out in between soft swearing and labored breaths as he puts his hand over mine and slowly slides it down his hip, into the front of his sweatpants. “I… I need you to…”

 My voice is barely more than a breath as I stammer my concerns about my nerves, lack of experience and the fact that I haven’t a clue what to do.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mikey whispers in reply, “just touch me. Please.”

 Heat rises to my cheeks again as I desperately attempt to resist the urge to pull my hand back and flee the room. “I-I really don’t know what… how…”

Mike lets out a whine that is a mix between impatience and complete and utter frustration. “What do you mean you don’t know? You have one of these, what do you do with that one?”

Lying to him now would probably not be in my best interest, so I ignore the ever-increasing temperature of my face when I tell him: “I, eh… I don’t really, ehh…”

“Mas-tur-bate,” Mike says with a smile. “Jack off. Jerk off. Beat your meat. Tickle your pickle. Flog your log. I can come up with dozens of these, but I think you got the point. But, like… ever?”

I shrug, fighting the resistance of Mike’s hand against my shoulder as I try to hide my face from him. “Not never, but…”

 “We can stop, if you want?” Mike says carefully, even though we both know that’s the very last thing I desire right now. “Or take a little step back?”

I shake my head surprisingly decisively. “I want to try,” I whisper. “I want to make you feel good.”

Mike leans closer to me, bringing his lips up to my ear. “Try again,” he says, the amusement in his voice clear as day, because once again he knows as well as I do that I’m not voicing my true desire.

In truth, I’m burning with violent need, and I am utterly bewildered that it’s even possible to feel nervous enough to overshadow that feeling. Yet here we are…

A low growl escapes me completely involuntarily. “I want to hear you moan and feel you squirm in my arms,” I snarl with more vigor than I originally intended. “And I want it to be because of me.”

His sweet moan, right in my ear, makes me tingle all over, and I barely manage to choke back a whimper of my own.

“Mel, please,” Mikey pleads with me again, “stop overthinking and just grab my d—”

He’s forced to end his sentence with a strangled, high-pitched noise that makes me chuckle as I wrap my fingers around his length.

He presses his forehead against mine as I cup the side of his face with my free hand, trailing my thumb lightly over his cheekbone.

The softest whimper stumbles past his slightly parted lips, and I gladly give in to the urge to touch them as well, savoring the feeling of Mikey’s hot breath against my fingertip.

When his tongue darts out, I take my own lip between my teeth, biting down as he sensually sucks my thumb into his mouth. I admire his confidence as he stares straight into my eyes—into my soul—as he does so.

Slowly, he rolls his hips, thrusting carefully into my hand.

His jaw tightens, and every sound he makes, escapes from behind gritted teeth—the way he’s grinding them almost makes more noise than he does, which I have to admit I find quite bothersome.

“Why are you holding back?” I ask quietly, as I attempt to silence the part of my mind that tells me I must be doing something wrong.

“Because I still can,” he admits reluctantly.

So I am doing s—

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” he says, smiling devilishly as he shimmies out of his sweatpants a bit further. “But truth be told, it’s missing something, eh…”

I patiently wait for him to continue, listening to the whiny noises he makes in protest as I don’t do him the courtesy of pausing the apparently good-but-missing-something handjob I was giving him. Mike is adorable when he gets flustered, and I am more than happy to be responsible for the rosy color on his cheeks.

“Fine,” he grumbles, giving in to his desires at last. “Top drawer of the nightstand. There’s a bottle, you really can’t miss it.”

I venture to retrieve the bottle. It’s… A chuckle escapes without warning as I read the label. “Mikey, why do you own cotton candy flavored lubricant?”

“Because it doesn’t come in jelly bean flavor,” Mike says casually before bringing my attention back to the—pardon me—task at hand. “Don’t be stingy with the stuff, I like it wet.”

Rather than simply not being quite sure what to do—or how much lubricant is an appropriate amount, since I’ve never used anything like it before—I am suddenly overcome with anxiety over the fact that I am now forced to look what I’m doing.

Slowly, I lower my gaze, taking in all of Mike’s body I can along the way. I barely notice how my fangs pierce my lip again when I bite down as my eyes reach their destination.

Mike snatches the bottle from my hand and kindly helps me out by pouring some of the liquid in my hand. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I bring my hand to my mouth, quickly dipping my tongue in the small pool of fluid in my palm.

Unsurprisingly, it’s extremely sweet.

Mike spends this time glaring at me, impatiently squirming and making his displeasure known through a series of whimpers, not stopping until I wrap my hand around his cock again.

As soon as I do, a serene smile spreads across his face, and he sighs while I proceed to coat his member with the slippery substance on my hand.

“Better?” I ask him.

He nods, resting his forehead against mine again. “Fuck yes.”

Apparently, the only thing Mike thinks will stop him from becoming excessively loud now, is crushing his mouth to mine and kissing me like his life depends on it.

His hips move erratically as he thrusts almost frantically into my hand while moans, grunts and desperate whimpers stumble from his mouth into mine.

After some time, I feel his hand close around mine, guiding my grip and the rhythm of my strokes while the fingers of his other hand dig into my back nearly hard enough to draw blood.

He swears, softly at first, but becoming louder as he loses more and more of his restraint.

Even with a vision providing me with advance knowledge of what is going to happen—which is technically so predictable that I should have been able to come up with it myself—I am unprepared for the moment his orgasm arrives.

In hindsight, aiming might have been a good idea, but I honestly couldn’t think of a better place for his release than my stomach.

“Sorry for the mess,” Mike pants against my lips. I can feel the lazy smile on his face in the way his mouth moves against my skin. “Can I help you clean that up?”

The implication in the devilish question sends a jolt of electricity down my spine, and before I can answer, Mike has pressed his lips to my neck, marking the beginning of a slow, teasing descent downward with a playful bite.

As he moves down my body, he turns me onto my back, leaving me helplessly mesmerized by the sight of this gorgeous man making his way down my chest, licking and sucking at my skin every chance he gets.

The feeling is absolutely unmatched by anything I have ever felt before in my life, and I can’t hold back any of the sounds that well up in my throat of their own volition.

The enthusiasm with which Mike licks his own semen off my abdomen is almost awe inspiring, and I watch him closely, barely aware of the fact that my mouth hangs open, which I’m sure must make me look like a complete and utter fool.

When he finishes his task, he shoots a glance up at me in which lies a burning question, and without thinking, I nod in reply.

Eager hands drag down my trousers and pants until my cock springs free, and for a moment, panic takes hold of me. With some effort, I remember the look on Mike’s face when he was ‘accidentally’—if one chooses to believe it was an accident, which I can’t bring myself to do—presented with an opportunity to look at my erection.

The image manages to calm me down fairly effectively.

My reaction when Mike carefully drags the tip of his tongue along the full length of my cock is admittedly quite embarrassing, but I try not to dwell on that thought, electing instead to enjoy the incredible new sensations brought to me by Mike’s mouth.

“So sensitive,” he muses quietly, trailing a teasing finger lightly down the same trajectory as his tongue. “And so pretty.”

I barely manage to resist the urge to cry out in frustration as Mike abandons my member and instead kisses my stomach, hips and thighs, putting his lips absolutely everywhere but where I so desperately want them.

His hands tease me: playful, eager fingers travel up and down my sides with the lightest touch, threatening to drive me completely beside myself with lustful yearning.

“Please!” The word barely makes it out, my voice so strangled I momentarily wonder if Mike even understood me—his devious chuckle confirming that he did.

In the pit of my stomach, pressure simmers. A pressure I probably should have familiarized myself with a lot more over the past fourteen centuries, but it’s recognizable enough as is.

There is no doubt in my mind that Mikey would succeed in bringing me to orgasm without laying another finger—or any other part of his body—directly on my cock.

Shame heats up my cheeks once again as I am forced to admit that, quite frankly, I’m about to burst.

And it is precisely this moment in which Mike decides that the best course of action is to swallow my whole length down to the root.

It's the hideously arrogant raising of that miserable eyebrow of his that ends up dragging me over the edge, and without any warning, I spill my seed into his mouth.

If dying of embarrassment was a possibility, I would have done it dozens, if not hundreds of times over the course of my existence, but none of those instances could hold a candle to what I’m feeling in this moment.

I could positively die of shame.

Mike, however, seems to be completely unfazed by the circumstances. It’s typical, of course, but it’s also infuriating.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, smoothing a hand over my hair. “Don’t feel bad. Come on…”

The next moment, he’s next to the bed, holding out a hand.

“Shower time, Melmel,” he muses happily.

I follow him in silence. Even as he strips me of the pants I put back on before making my way over to the bathroom, or when he ushers me into the shower stall, or when he sweetly and gently caresses me all over to rinse off the remnants of our relations, I remain quiet.

Until we are back in the room, and Mike dives under the covers, leaving me standing there…

“I… Mike, I think I should g—”

“Yeah, that is, like, so not happening,” Mike says, rushing towards me with alarming speed. “You are staying, and that’s an order. Besides, we’re just getting to my favorite part.”

“Didn’t we just do your favorite part?” I ask, my voice thick with bewilderment.

“Ask our girl,” Mike chuckles. “I’m a little cuddle monster.”

He takes both of my hands in his and gently attempts to pull me along. “Back to bed, now.”

I can’t seem to move, other than the involuntary shiver that travels through my body when Mike suddenly appears behind me, pressing his smiling lips to my neck and grabbing my behind. “Are you going to listen to me, or do I have to spank my pretty boy?”

I’m not proud of the way his words bring my cock back to life, but I can’t bring myself to be embarrassed about it, either, even when Mike chuckles devilishly in my ear.

“Was it ‘pretty boy’ or ‘spank’ that’s making this happen?” he asks as he gently palms my stiffening cock.

“Both,” I admit surprisingly willingly. “And ‘my’ might have had something to do with it as well.”

“Do you want to go another round?” Mike asks carefully, no doubt to attempt to hide the heady edge to his voice, as if his growing desire isn’t literally poking me in the back right now.

“I thought you wanted to cuddle,” I whisper, gritting my teeth so as not to moan loudly as my erection pushes more and more firmly against Mike’s hand. Thank God, he’s keeping it still, otherwise I would be completely lost.

 “I do,” he whines. “But look what you did to me!” He grinds his cock against my ass. It feels heavenly, as does the feeling of Mike’s breath on my neck as he chuckles when my cock twitches against his palm.

This time, I allow him to push me towards the bed again, and when we reach it, I don’t protest when he bends me over—at first.

Panic briefly washes over me as I think about what he might do to me, but I trust him. I know he would never attempt anything beyond my boundaries, so I relax again, leaning into his touch as his fingers close around my length again.

He strokes me in time with the movement of his hips against my ass as he thrusts slowly between my cheeks, pushing his cock down with his other hand.

When Mike disappears, I whine at the loss, and I try to right myself to see where he’s gone, but his hand, firmly pressing down on the small of my back, stops me. The drawer of the bedside table opens and closes, and the top of a bottle clicks. Moments later, Mikey’s hand, now slick with lubricant, closes around my cock again.

His other hand—now also quite sticky—hooks around my thigh, pulling me back a few steps to give him more space to work with, and I moan in delight as I feel my ass hit his hips again.

Mike gently shushes me, squeezing my ass in a strangely reassuring way when the feeling of his hands running down between my cheeks has me worried for a second. “Don’t worry,” he says calmly. “Just wanted a little less friction.”

I must admit, it feels even better this way. For him, too, if the higher speed of his thrusts and increasing volume of his moans are any indication.

When Mike plants a firm kiss on my spine, between my shoulder blades, I can’t fight back a loud moan as I relish the feeling of his weight on top of me. At the same time, I am terribly disappointed when he stops moving his hips.

“I want to try something, okay?” Mike says. His hand stops moving too, and much to my displeasure, it disappears altogether barely a second later. The only redeeming aspect to this unwelcome behavior, is the trail of sloppy, wet kisses Mike leaves down my back.

I resist the urge to swat him in the head when he sinks his teeth into my rear, and I heal the wound immediately in protest.

Mike, in all his silly, playful Mike-ness, retaliates by making another mark, which I treat in the same manner.

We go back and forth like that for a minute, until Mike growls in frustration. “You’re so fucking lucky you’re cute, Melmel.”

I can hear the pout in his voice, and a grin appears on my face as I spread my legs for Mike without thinking when he moves to grab my cock again, this time by reaching between my legs.

His arm hooks around my hips, holding me in place, and I barely get a second to wonder why.

Mike was more than right to hold me down, because when the tip of his warm, wet tongue touches the tight ring of muscle—

“Mike!” I hiss angrily while I squirm against his solid grasp. That… place has been an exit only for fourteen hundred years, and if he thinks—

A soft kiss on my bottom eases my surging anger. “Put down the pitchfork,” Mike muses, “I just want to touch you. Well… eat you. Give it an honest chance, please? If you don’t like it, you don’t like it, but I think you should try it.”

Mike certainly has a way of inciting one’s curiosity… I take a deep breath before nodding decisively, accompanying the gesture—which Mike can’t see—with an affirmative hum.

Mike continues to stroke me while his tongue gently laps at my puckered hole.

When Mike made his plea, I never pictured a scenario in which I would enjoy this, but to my shame, I must admit that the sensation is quite pleasant. Perhaps a bit more than ‘quite’.

Alright, it feels nothing short of absolutely heavenly! That doesn’t mean I am quite ready to admit that, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, Mike seems to get plenty of confirmation from the way my hips involuntarily move in time with his tongue, rather than his hand.

In fact, after a while, he abandons stroking my cock altogether, using both hands to spread my ass cheeks so he can gain better access to my hole.

I occupy my own hands by pressing a pillow firmly against my face, while crying a continues stream of moans and the occasional expletive into it, and when Mike tentatively passes a fingertip over the tight ring of muscle, I find myself begging him to continue.

“Is this something you want now, or something you know you’ll want in the future?” His tone lets me know there is only one answer he will accept, and it’s not the one I think I want it to be now.

I desperately cry out into the pillow, wanting to voice my protest but finding no words, and I turn onto my back rather dramatically while Mike skillfully dodges my legs.

He remains where he is, raising himself up on his knees so he can lay his head on my hip. The sweet smile on his face as he looks up at me annoys me greatly, and I put the pillow over my face again and scream, before glaring down at him as I prop myself up on my elbows.

“If you’re not going to do to me what you know I think I want you to do to me but don’t yet, then at the very least do to me what we both know I’m incredibly amenable to you doing to me,” I growl.

Mike chuckles. “That almost sounds like you’re asking me to blow you,” he teases.

On a whim, I sit up. With the fingers of one hand twisted into his curls, I pull his head off my thigh.

Mike’s swallows audibly, his eyes wide as he stares up at me. My jaw tightens as he bites his lip, and I cock an eyebrow at him, silently asking my question.

He responds by nodding furiously, and when I attempt to pull my hand back, he grabs my wrist.

With unwavering enthusiasm, he pours some more lubricant on me before getting to work, coating my whole length using both of his hands.

It feels divine, and without thinking I ball my hands into fists to prevent myself from swearing.

Mike lets out a long, sweet moan, leaning into my touch as I unintentionally pull his hair, the noise making me all the more disinclined to relax my grip.

He looks up at me, that godforsaken eyebrow taunting me, and the rest of his face guilty of the exact same thing. He’s clearly testing my patience—and to my surprise, I find that I quite like that.

Stil, no matter how much I enjoy his defiance, my annoyance is real and intense enough to be a leading factor in my behavior.

“You know what I want,” I groan, putting pressure on the back of Mikey’s head, urging his mouth closer to its desired location.

His eyes narrow, and his lips pull into an insufferable smirk as he continues to work my length with both hands, and I attempt to keep my composure while the urge to smack that grin off his face surges to previously undiscovered heights.

 Mike’s reaction has me staring at him in shock, his yearnful moan dying down as soon as he sees my face, and his expression morphing into something completely different that has his ears and cheeks turning red in a staggering tempo. It’s…

“So sweet,” I mutter as I loosen my grip on his hair and run my fingers over his scalp in circles. “Be good for me, my love. Let me feel that beautiful mouth.”

When he looks up at me again after pressing a sweet, brief kiss to the underside of my tip, the color on his cheeks has deepened.

I am unsure of the reasons behind the effect it has on me, and right now, I could frankly not care even a hair less.

He’s still challenging me, but the shy approach makes it endearing rather than infuriating. I can’t even convince myself fully that he’s putting on an act: He’s never been particularly good at hiding his true feelings.

Before we started this—all of it, from the very first kiss onward—I never would have imagined that I’d see myself in control of any of this. I pictured myself, completely at the mercy of Mike and his fickle whims. No vision I had could have prepared me for this.

For this sense of agency, and of… dominance.

For the overwhelming sense of pride, and the much more intense yearning for this sweet, eager boy between my knees than I had ever imagined possible.

“Sweet, precious Mikey,” I sigh as he delivers the smallest lick to the tip of my cock. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I watch him squirm beneath me. My best guess is that I’m not the only one who enjoys being called sweet things.

Where I find the words, and how on Earth I suddenly manage to not only use my voice but also seem to accurately remember fourteen centuries worth of English—though it would be remiss not to acknowledge that I never really caught on to the last two centuries or so—is beyond me, but the fact of the matter is that I do.

Words of encouragement flow freely from my lips as I gently nudge Mike’s head forward. “Wrap those pretty lips around me, sweetheart. I know you want to,” I say softly. “I’ll be so proud of you.” Mike whines, staring up at me with big, innocent eyes. “Be a good boy for me, Mikey. You’d make me so happy.”

Strangely, though the only thing missing from my words are the ones that would make this an outright plea, I don’t feel like I’m begging whatsoever, nor do I feel like I’m somehow pressuring Mike into doing something he doesn’t want to do.

Due to my lacking experience, I should be lacking every shred of confidence I feel, shouldn’t I? I shouldn’t feel so at peace with this, I—

My doubts die a swift, magnificent death the second Mike wraps his lips around my throbbing erection, and I soon find myself completely bewitched by the sight of him as he works more of my length into his mouth.

He’s dropped one hand into his own lap, and the other soon moves to my thigh, where his fingers dig into my flesh every time he goes down. With every stroke, he takes me deeper, until I’m fully seated in his mouth.

When his throat tightens around me briefly, it startles me, and I involuntarily move my hips, forcing Mike to withdraw, sputtering and struggling to breathe.

I, in turn, gasp for air when he spits on my cock. There’s something wildly erotic to it, and to the thin thread of saliva that runs from my tip to the center of his bottom lip.

“Keep going, beautiful,” I gasp. In no way am I too proud to admit that I’m positively aching to feel his lips around me again. “You’re doing so well. You’re such a good boy.”

Mike whimpers, briefly moving the hand with which he’s pleasuring himself quicker, before leaning forward again.

Emboldened by his enthusiasm, I put light pressure on the back of his head and gently thrust my hips forward.

His eyes open wide, and he moans desperately. The vibration created by the sound feels heavenly around my cock, and I push my hips forward again, luring another moan from Mike’s throat.

“Do you… like that?” I ask hesitantly. Surely, it’s better to be safe than sorry in these situations?

Mike hums a vigorous confirmation, his brows drawing together in a deep frown when I ask him—superfluously, apparently—if he wants me to stop.

On instinct, I move closer to the edge of the bed, tightening my grip on Mike’s hair as I thrust forward again—and again… and again.

Soon, there are tears in Mikey’s eyes, and instead of being overwhelmed by guilt, I simply can’t stop thinking about how beautiful he looks—and how incredibly impressed I am with his achievements.

Now, I am hardly under the impression that I have a particularly intimidating manhood where size is concerned, but I would happily place myself somewhat above average without adding any inches for vanity, and on top of that, I’m hardly being as gentle with Mike as I probably should be, thus, I consider my amazement justified.

Mike announces his approaching climax through a series of delectable moans and an increase in the pace at which he sucks me off, his movements stopping exactly when I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm myself.

He pulls back, until the tip of my cock rests on his tongue, and with a few strokes, he seals the deal.

I bite down on my lip while I watch as several thick ropes of my release coat his tongue, the visual so wildly arousing that I briefly worry I will never find anything else even remotely enticing ever again.

“Show me.” I mouth the words, unable to find my voice, as I trail my thumb lightly along Mike’s bottom lip. Audible or not, my words seem to light a devious little fire under him, and after heeding my request, he promptly raises himself up, supporting himself with his hands on my thighs.

My breath catches in my throat, and I swallow hard as Mike leans forward, pressing his lips to mine with vigor.

I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to be disgusted with myself and my behavior later, but right now I want nothing more than to taste myself on Mike’s tongue—I get slightly more than I bargained for when I open my mouth and feel my thick salty seed flow from Mike’s mouth into mine.

At first, I can’t bring myself to swallow, resisting the urge to spit until an idea takes root in my brain.

I can see the apology on Mike’s lips, but before he speaks, I put him on his back on the mattress, taking a moment to rake my eyes over his chest and abs.

Without wasting any time, I lick the evidence of his orgasm off his stomach, and straddle his hips, bringing my nose to his.

There’s no need for further provocation: Mike opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue so I can deliver on my silent promise.

This should feel disgusting. By pretty much any standard, but most of all mine—or rather; the ones that have been pounded into me over the years, either figuratively or, if I was particularly unfortunate, literally.

Instead, a serenity that borders on a sense of heavenly bliss washes over me while Mike and I go back and forth spitting a combination of our semen and saliva into each other’s mouths…

I—

Mike chuckles and falls back to the mattress, taking a moment to catch his breath before pulling me down on top of him. “If I came in while you were trying to watch a movie and I randomly spit a fat load of cum in your mouth, you probably wouldn’t appreciate that,” he says. His words seem so out of place that at first, I struggle to wrap my head around them, until I realize I must have looked… I couldn’t tell you how I looked, exactly, but my face must have expressed my thoughts in a way that prompted Mikey to launch into an explanation. “Welcome to your first ‘it seemed like a good idea at the time’-moment. It won’t be the last.”

“That doesn’t dispute the accusation that it was, in fact, disgusting. At all,” I mutter against the skin of his neck, hiding my scorching—and therefore probably beet-red—face from him.

Mike sits up again, wrapping his arms around my waist as he does, pulling me even closer. “Melmel… Sex is kinda disgusting. And embarrassing.” He punctuates his words with small kisses to my shoulder and neck. “And sticky, and sweaty, and messy.”

“You might want to put a positive spin on this,” I grumble. “Soon.”

“The point is,” he replies, pulling my head off his shoulder and holding it in both hands so that I’m forced to look at him. “When you’re with the right people, none of that matters.”

One look into his eyes, and I know…

“Well, I’m glad I’m with the right people then,” I murmur, leaning in for another kiss.

When Mike breaks away, he suggests we take another shower, and I’m hardly inclined to decline the offer. He wasn’t exactly lying about ‘sticky’ and ‘sweaty’ in his list of less-than-ideal side effects to sexual relations.

This time, Mike is the one that goes strangely quiet while we clean ourselves—and, both notably and regrettably, not each other—up.

“Mikey?” I ask carefully. “What’s wrong?”

My heart breaks when Mike drops to the floor, suddenly sobbing uncontrollably, crawling back into the corner and sitting there with his arms locked around his knees, vigorously shaking his head in reply to my question.

“Mike,” I say sternly as my attempts to pluck him off the floor fail miserably. I do, however, manage to pull him off the wall just far enough that I can sit down behind him, and when I lock my legs around him, he knows he won’t be going anywhere, so he gives in to my touch. “You will talk to me.”

When he moves again, I let him, both knowing that he might be a fool, but not such a big one that he expects to be able to run from me, and knowing—vision-wise—he won’t try. He simply wants to turn the shower head our way because he’s cold.

He sits down in my lap, and I wrap my arms tightly around him, waiting patiently until he feels ready to speak about what’s going on with him.

Another deep, shaky breath, and he starts talking: “This just took a turn… And you’re so new to all of this, I never thought… I should have… But I couldn’t have known, so… And everything was going well, and it was all good, and I was teasing you and so stoked to be showing you all these new, wonderful things and… And then things got turned around, somehow… and suddenly you were… you… And I… I…”

I let him cry for a while, just holding him, tucking him tightly against my chest as I smooth my hands over his back and sides, repeating the phrase ‘shh, it’s okay’ more times than I care to admit because I simply can’t come up with anything else.

After a while, his breathing steadies, and the sobbing comes to an end. “I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “Not in a ‘I have something to apologize for’ kind of way, but more like… ‘I feel bad for dumping this on you all of a sudden’ kind of way.”

“That’s alright,” I reply truthfully. “All I want is to take care of you and to make you feel better.”

Mike laughs through the last of his tears. “That’s great,” he says, “because you’re going to have to.”

“Just tell me how,” I say. “And, if at all possible, try to explain why?”

“Right,” Mike says on a slightly embarrassed chuckle. “First off, I shouldn’t have let this happen. Like…” He throws his head back and lets out a frustrated cry. “Okay. During that blowjob just now—I don’t blame you if you didn’t even notice, but…”

“I remember suddenly feeling far more… in charge?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Mike nods almost enthusiastically. “I really wouldn’t have blamed you—you looked pretty overstimulated—but, damn, I’m glad you noticed. Eh, long story short, you ended up Domming me—dominating, I mean, like… the kinky kind. And you were really good at it, too! So no worries about that, okay? But I should have stopped you, because I know I’m quick to slip into subspace—I’ll explain that later—and it was stupid… well, a little naïve, I guess, of me to think it wouldn’t happen, and…” He takes a moment to catch his breath, and I rub his back while he does.

“A little longer,” I say calmly when he tries to continue his story. My visions are exceptionally helpful in this type of situation, and I don’t want Mike to start hyperventilating.

“Thanks,” he says sincerely after a few more deep breaths. “The… I just… I freaked out because I need someone to take care of me—you, to be specific—but I should be the one taking care of you after your first time… Things just got a little messy.”

“Is there any reason we can’t be taking care of each other?” I ask, taking a moment to think about my own needs at this time. The very first one is for Mikey to feel better. “I think that, after this shower, I would like to watch a movie in bed, and stay very, very close to you.”

“Yeah,” Mike sighs happily. “That works for me.”

When we finish our shower, I dry myself off quickly, only to find Mike still standing next to me, soaking wet, when I’m done. He hesitantly holds his towel out to me.

“Please take care of me,” he mumbles, his voice small and soft. He’s avoiding eye contact, biting his lip and constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I never want you to be afraid to ask me that, Mike,” I say slowly, enunciating every word carefully as I take the towel from him.

There’s something wonderful about this. I dry every part of Mike’s gorgeous body with extreme care. When I first resist the urge to press my lips to his skin, Mike laughs.

“You can still kiss me, Melot,” he muses. “Actually, I’d really like it if you did.”

At that moment, things finally connect in my head. “You need to feel loved.”

“Yeah,” Mike says, nodding slowly. “Put bluntly, I need to know you see me as more than the piece of meat you throatfucked back there.”

Before I can respond, he continues: “I know you don’t see me that way! I mean, maybe you did when you—”

“I was mostly very impressed with your skills,” I admit reluctantly. It’s my turn to blush once again. At least we’re both suffering that terrible affliction this time.

“Thanks,” he says with a smile. “Decades of practice.”

“I think you have put in more hours than most people your age,” I joke before nipping at the tip of his nose.

Mike glares at me. “Well, apparently I have put in more hours than some people your age, so…”

“Hey!” I stick my tongue out at him. “Stop bullying me, or I will—”

“Whatever you say next,” Mike interjects quickly, “never threaten to skip aftercare. Just… little PSA, I guess.”

“Oh, I was simply going to suggest we put on an episode of Downton Abbey and I point out all the historical inaccuracies,” I say plainly.

Mike shudders. “That would actually be worse…”

Mere seconds after we finally get settled in bed, there’s a knock on the door—of course, a few seconds after that, there’s an actual knock on the door. One that isn’t a figment of my… Well, I suppose both ‘figment’ and ‘imagination’ would be inaccurate.

Still, Mike and I look at each other, neither of us in any way inclined to actually see whose unfortunate timing we’re dealing with.

“Melot, can I see you for a second?” It’s Marshall.

Even though I’m wearing pants, I scramble to find the nearest pair of sweatpants and put them on—after Mike gives it a quick inspection. Quick thinking on his part, I must admit.

When I open the door, I open it wide enough to speak to Marshall, but not so wide that he can look into the room.

It makes him chuckle. “I’ve seen him in much worse states than simply naked,” he muses, but doesn’t otherwise protest the minimal state of ajar-ness of the door. “August and I thought you could use this.” He holds out a tray. One side is loaded with snacks—cheese, fruit, crackers… the lack of jellybeans might disappoint Mike—while the other side holds two bottles of water, glasses, and a pitcher of strawberry lemonade—Mike’s favorite. “Keep him warm and hydrated. And see if he wants to eat something. He’ll say he’s not hungry, but… Take care of him, okay?”

“I will,” I promise as I let go of the door to take the tray from Marshall. As soon as I do, someone—must be Mike—yanks the door open. He narrowly misses me as he practically jumps into Marshall’s arms.

“Thank you,” Mike mutters as Marshall hugs him tight to his chest, indeed  not caring that Mike is still very much completely nude. “I love you.”

“I know,” Marshall replies with a somber smile. “I love you too. Always have, always will. Go be with your… boyfriend?”

“Official status TBD,” Mike chuckles as he releases Marshall from his grasp. “But at the very least I think we can say we’re hooking up.”

“Well, whatever the case, take care of each other. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He disappears before either of us can say another word, so we take the food inside and close the door behind us again, making sure to lock it as well.

“What happened between you two?” I ask carefully as we get comfortable under the covers.

Mike shrugs. “Nothing happened. It’s like… We’re as close as we’ve always been, just in a different way. We could never be in a monogamous relationship with each other, that would be weird, for some reason, but with Sweetcheeks in the mix, some old stuff has been coming back, and we’re figuring that out. Not in a very proactive way, I have to admit.” He picks a cube of cheese off the plate.

“So I might have to share you with another person, then?” I ask, jokingly poking at his ribs. The thought should devastate me. Shred my insides like a swarm of angry wasps is wreaking havoc on them.

Instead, I feel completely calm.

“I’m a bottomless pit of love,” Mike says with his mouth already full—yet he stuffs three more cubes of cheese and a few slices of cured sausage in there.

“You know, there’s fruits and vegetables on this plate, right?” I say when he swallows the obscene amount of food—which I’m sure he considered ‘a bite’.

“Fine, you have discovered the limits of my affection,” he jokes. “Hey!”

The first grape I chuck at his face bounces off his forehead, and I catch it before it hits the plate again. On the second try, Mike catches it in his mouth.

The third lands directly in his lap—I can’t seem to come to an agreement with myself as to whether or not that happened on purpose, but I happily put the situation to good use by retrieving the rogue fruit with my mouth, not neglecting to press a teasing kiss to Mikey’s soft cock.

“No,” he warns me, drawing out the ‘o’ as he shakes his head. “I mean… Yes! But no.”

For a moment—one of the kind that sets your soul alight and seems to last forever—we just smile at each other as we stare into each other’s eyes.

In my entire existence, I have never felt as safe as I do now.

Or as loved.

Or as at home.

Or as at peace.

“You were right,” I whisper after a while, as I let go of my fears, and my doubts, and my past.

Just for now.

And for him.

Only for him.

“I’m entirely unsurprised,” he chuckles. “But, eh… what about?”

I swallow hard before looking him right in the eye.

“I like boys.”

[kaycynyrs]

Let's talk about Christopher Diaz in fanfic

I want to preface this by saying I'm pretty new to the fandom. I joined a few months or so before season 7 started dropping. So I'm probably not the best source for information when it comes to the show, but I definitely wanted to throw my hat into the ring. I'm aware that Chris is aging during the course of the show, and that he was much younger when he was first introduced, but it seems to me that a lot of fanfic writers and/or people in this fandom kinda struggle to realistically write and/or portray accurate representation of a preteen/early teenager as Chris is now.

I have absolutely no idea if maybe it's some kinda weird way of seemingly (kinda horribly) trying to portray disability, or maybe people in the 911 fandom just do not spend time around pre-teens, but as someone who does spend a lot of time with a pre-teen (specifically my 12 y/o brother) I definitely figured I could give some insight into this topic.

Now I do want to clarify before I begin, that in no way shape or form am I talking about the disabled portion of Chris' experience. I don't have the knowledge or firsthand experience or anything like that to even begin to try and be a voice on that topic, and if anyone else could give insight into that portion of Chris' experience, I welcome it gladly. Especially because it's an integral part of him and introduces some experiences that other pre-teens won't have to deal with which can change how Chris reacts/deals with situations.

What I can accurately talk about though is the things I've noticed in my brother as he goes through this phase of his life. I can also compare his experiences to what I remember from when I was his age, and I'm noticing he's going through certain things that I went through too. I know everyone is different, but hopefully this insight can help some people begin to understand Chris as he is now.

Now, on top of all the slow but noticeable bodily changes, these little sass masters are emotionally volatile. As in, the littlest things seem to be the end of the world. Especially if he's (my brother) is overtired. He tends to have tunnel vision, and he wants things to go his way. If it doesn't immediately go as planned, he tends to get very very frustrated. When that happens, he tends to blow up then go into his room until he's calmed down. After he's calm, then productive conversation can happen.

Kids Chris' age also tend to enjoy video games (like Roblox, or console games) more than they do coloring or legos or any physical toy. Not saying my brother has stopped playing with them all together, but it's definitely slowed down. If he were to play with legos, it'd more likely be a complicated lego set. Or complicated arts and crafts. His most recent projects being origami swords and origami paper dragons. Like, please don't forget that Chris is a good artist and is capable of drawing accurate human hearts.

I've also noticed that kids will go through a collecting phase. They'll collect anything and everything and it'll be the weirdest shit you could never predict. My brother when he was a bit younger literally stole every single sock in the house for his "sock collection" and stuffed an entire drawer full of them. Now he's moved on to collecting golf balls.

And, whether we like it or not, these kids are on the internet. My brother at least is very very influenced by online trends. Half the things he's interested in he saw on social media first. But that means that these kids have a rich meme culture. They have their own in jokes and concepts, same as we did growing up. And sure, some of the jokes are the same. I mean heck, my brother won't shut up with the "your mom" jokes, but they also have things like skibbidy toilet, chippi chippi choppa choppa, and other memes. (I have a list of current tween memes in my notes, but that can be a separate post if people truly want it)

Like it's such a missed funny opportunity! To have Chris reference current memes or current sayings like "gyot, what the sigma, and womp womp," and just having every single adult within the immediate vicinity be confused as fuck, and of course the kids won't explain, because why would they. It's funny to them that the adults are confused. Which also pairs with the amount of sass contained in their tiny orifices. Their come backs are insane and not to be trifled with. My brother has burned me so many times and so well that for all intents and purposes I should be a pile of ash on floor, honestly and truly.

Now, when it comes to romance, I have no idea when that changes. I think Chris is around 14 in the most recent season? And he's gone through a little heartbreaker phase, but currently, my brother at 12 is absolutely disgusted by romance. I myself am demisexual so I'm not a good reference for that, and can't really comment on when people start feeling attraction for others. But considering it's being portrayed in the show, I think it could be something to lean into as well.

All of this to say, Chris won't be this picture perfect baby all of the time. He'll get angry, frustrated, sad. Give people the silent treatment. He'll be weird and strange and say stupid shit. He'll also probably occasionally get confused over certain sayings he's never heard before. (E.g similes commonly used in writing) He'll try to get out of chores, and homework, and he'll whine and complain. His body is changing, he's probably experiencing growing pains, and he's probably starting to discover more adult things. But he'll also have his moments of insightfulness and humor. He's a little adult! And he should be allowed to be portrayed that way! Let Chris be a multidimensional character! It's what he deserves! And just to make it clear, this goes for every pre-teen on 911. I've just noticed the infantilisation of Chris a lot more than say Denny.

Please let me know your thoughts on this matter! I'd love to hear them! Have a wonderful day!

[trans-axolotl]

idk i think a lot of people sort of build up schizo-spec diagnoses in their head as this example of a "clearly biomedical disease that is the scariest possible example of mental illness that is always a crisis no matter what." and i'm not going to sit here and say that schizoaffective is always pleasant to live with, or pretend that it's something that I can manage perfectly-it does cause me distress a lot of the time, and makes some things very difficult. but for me, psychosis is by far not the most difficult symptom i have to deal with, compared to some of the other things that have brought me distress. And yet it's always the symptom that is reacted to with the most fear, confusion, and disgust by other people. I hate it when people generalize psychosis as always and inherently and forever a crisis, and ignore the fact that everyone who experiences psychosis is going to have their own experiences, perspectives on how it impacts them, and that treating psychosis as a super scary, inherently dangerous symptom is incredibly stigmatizing and prevents us from receiving support and care from our communities.

idk. i just really wish people would realize that for some people, psychosis can sometimes be a neutral or even positive experience (i've had some incredibly lovely psychosis experiences), and that by positioning psychosis as a "super scary disease that has no quality of life" and only offering carceral solutions, it perpetuates a pattern where we get continually pushed into harmful treatments. Instead of a situation where our autonomy is respected, where we're offered a wide variety of treatments from meds to therapies to peer support like Hearing Voices Network to material community based support and where we're allowed to define our own experience of psychosis based on how it actually affects us. like, i don't want to deny that psychosis is often distressing for many of us--but I do think we have the responsibility to evaluate where we've learned about psychosis, what societal messages we've internalized about psychosis, what kinds of knowledge about psychosis do we not have access to, and just actually think in depth about how our biases impact how we communicate about psychosis.

[knightyoomyoui]

[SMUT] TWICE Mina x Male Reader - "House Of Balloons"

Requested by my buddy and fellow author @mintchoccy, I'm really sorry again if I haven't been able to write it for months, man. I had to focus on other works. Hope this would be fine enough to be worth the wait. TRIGGER WARNING: Aside from mature content, this contains drugs, violence, non-con ( I really didn't want to write with this theme but since it's my second attempt of writing a yandere Mina fic and for the sake of the plot, I had to give what the previous is lacking) and other uncomfortable parts. WORD COUNT: 5700+ TAGS: yandere, obssession, aphrodisiacs, viagra, rough sex, edging, dominant, worship, non-con element, torture, angst, smut Here's my Ko-fi account where you can drop your donations or ask for a commission. You can check it out on my Tumblr profile too!  Buy knightyoomyoui a Coffee. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui - Ko-fi ❤️ Where creators get support from fans through donations, memberships, shop sales and more! The original 'Buy Me a Coffee' Page.

"That fucking snake again."

Mina has had enough.

She calmly watches such an atrocity of a view, her hands fumbling vigorously within the curves of the wineglass, her fingernails scraping in time with the pattern of her gritting teeth covered through her tight-lipped lips.

The one that she likes- no, she loves - a lot legitimately is talking to somebody. It's their friend but in her perspective, she felt like she could just erase her existence and remove any identification of her being into her whole life.

That one and only man she's head over heels for quite a long time now is YN, unbeknowst to him that girl she's with, named Sana turns out to be one of his secret admirers in disguise.

And what's even worse, Sana doesn't even know that there's one more person who is impatient to fall in line just to snatch YN's heart from everybody else who wanted it, and that is none other than Mina herself.

She tried to hold it in for months, but with how many times she encountered that almost sucked the soul out of her with the tiny possibility remaining to complete for others to win over YN, she has now on her breaking point.

Every day and night passes, her craving, her longing, her desperation is going stronger and higher, and Mina felt like she'll gone out of her mind if she wouldn't do anything about it.

Just like today, it seems like Sana is going for the final blow to attract YN and possibly the worst case scenario might happen, and that is the confession part where Mina doesn't want to witness or hear it to happen.

She doesn't fall in the line, she made the line and she's the most deserving out of them all.

That why it came to this moment that Mina finally pronounces something that will guarantee her victory, a fight where she doesn't have to lose.

She doesn't give a damn if they want YN's love, she's the one who needs it the most.

"I'm going to make you mine, YN. Not even that flirty bitch or anyone could take you from me. We'll go blood for blood just for them to dare." Mina snarled with annoyance and a poisonous glare at the two. "We're going to be together, because we have to and I love you."

Mina first met YN when he brought his childhood bestfriend Sana to their group after Sana found out that her car isn't working properly. He got introduced to the group and with his kind-hearted and humorous personality, he managed to build a strong closeness with the girls.

Until that closeness turns into attraction for one of them aside from Sana.

YN was closest to the J-Line because he is Japanese, and even though he knows Sana a lot, he tried to spend time with Mina and Momo, and Mina was the one he focused more onto.

To be honest, Momo's personality was already fine but there's something that YN observed on Mina that made him check up on her all the time. She is mostly quiet, soft, and meek because of her introvert and elegant attribute, and YN always make sure that whenever he's hanging along with the girls, he wanted to feel that Mina always belongs to them to have fun.

Until suddenly, that fun had Mina searching for all the time, and she became selective only for him.

Mina's fond over YN grew from time to time. There has been instances where she would just start to look for YN, mention him, miss him, hear him. Just everything to feel his presence.

And that, turned Mina's obsession over YN inside out.

Her infatuation bloomed into an excessive devotion fueled by interest where she felt like not having any trace or signs of YN on her would have her less enthusiastic and stable.

The first time she did something very strange was back when Mina sat on YN's chair and muzzled her face around the cushion to inhale every scent he left there.

It leveled up to her stalking him wherever he go, memorizing the directions and time he appears and departs. She also tried to snatch and collect straws and cups that he used, wiping it around his lips then compressing it like as if she's engaging a make out with him.

Until it developed into something that easily malfunctions and thrives her horniness and perverted minds. She had many prints of her pictures with him and to aid her thirst for YN, she even bought a dildo for the first time and imagine it as his dick impaling her pussy by riding it while staring at YN's printed face on the pillow.

And now that she always gets to caught numerous almost close calls of Sana and other girls trying to take her away from her, it prompted her to finally step away from the shadows and make her move that will not require any further attempts.

YN is hers and hers only. As Sana went to the bathroom for a break, Mina came up to YN who is watching their other friends dancing to the floor while sipping on his wine.

"How's the night so far?" Mina talked to him and laid her hands on his shoulder.

"Doing good, but I starting to feel sleepy." YN chuckled. "I mean, I did everything I wanted now here, and now I don't know what else to do than empty these drinks and foods I have."

"Shall we get out of here and you know..." Mina started to move her hand, caressing his shoulder while it slowly lowers through his left pec. "Find something entertaining, make ourselves have some fun~"

She slightly presses her body, her breasts almost pushes through his arm. Her voice starts to become rougher and closer to his ears, making YN blush and feel a bit tensed up.

"I feel a bit bored now. My phone is now out, I hate that I forgot my powerbank."

"You wanted to play games, huh."

"Yeah, and I would really love to do it only with you, if you don't mind~", Mina smirked and squeezed her embrace on his side.

"You're lucky, I can feel my inner gamer loading up-"

"Hey guys!" Sana interrupted their conversation after returning from the bathroom. Mina cursed under her breath and her grip tightened on YN. "Sorry I had to take a break, YN."

"No it's fine, I had to say goodbye to everyone now anyway." YN chuckled. "I'm now tired and done for the night."

"Awwww already?" Sana pouted. "You can join us for one more-"

"Uhm, I think I'll be off now too, Sana." Mina cuts her out. She doesn't want his man to get anything involved with them until they get drunk. Their time is up and her turn is now. "I have low alcohol tolerance and I still have to visit my dad on the hospital tomorrow. Gotta sleep early."

"Not you too, Mina?!" Sana whined. Mina found it adorable but deep inside she's smirking mockingly at her for not being able to get through their zone anymore. "Okay, if that so then let's just catch up at the next party." Sana shrugged. "Be safe on your way home okay?

Mina just nodded and elicited a fake smile while YN smiled. He got surprised when Sana quickly hugged him tight and Mina sweared that she's doing her best at all to control herself from grabbing her arm and slamming her through the table.

"Say our goodbyes to the girls, okay?" YN said to Sana who gave her a cheeky smile while raising her thumbs up.

"Cmon, let's go." Mina swiftly tugs his hands and wrapped it around with hers. She hoped he wouldn't noticed her arms twitching at how good it feels to touch his soft skin.

As they exit the building, she halted and proposed an invitation to him. "Wanna go play with me at my place? I have a newly bought God of War: Ragnarok that I haven't been able to try yet."

"Wait what?! You already got it?!" YN reacted in awe. She knew he'll go hysterical since that is his favorite video game of all time. "No way, we better do it right now. Let's go!"

Mina escorted YN to enter her car and they drove straight to her mansion. They greeted the guard before he opened the gates for them. As Mina parked the car on her garage, they entered the mansion and YN was astounded at how great and rich Mina's family are.

"This is your first time here, right?"

"Yeah, and wow it does feels awesome and honored to be here." YN said as he travelled his eyes around here. "It's like stepping in here should be a priviledge because you'll never get an easy chance to experience this."

"Don't worry, you can stay here as much as you like. Treat this as your home now." Mina said as she walked through the kitchen before eyeing a sinister smirk on him who is still busy checking out the decorations around the place, too oblivious to notice the double meaning on her words.

She walked out of the kitchen with a bottle of alcohol and some cups with her. "Just thought of something to make this even more fun. Shall we do a drunk gameplay?"

"But you said you have to visit-"

"I lied." Mina said sternly. "I did that to make myself more convincing, so don't worry about me because I want us to spend more time together. I want to stay with you alone for now so don't go, please?"

YN nodded and smiled. "Sure. If that's what you want Mina, I'll be joining you."

Mina giggled and felt overwhelmed at his words. "Cmon, let's head upstairs."

They climbed and reached the second floor where Mina's guest room at. YN opened to room in assistance since Mina has her hands full with bottle and glass and they entered at Mina's private space.

Mina slightly got anxious when they passed her bedroom because little does YN know what would greet him once he saw what's in store there.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to get it." Mina said as she dashed through her forbidden area and hurriedly grabbed the cd and controllers.

As she heads back to the room, she found YN conversing through the phone. The call was in speaker and she heard Sana's voice that made her a bit fumed up.

"Yeah, I already got home. Thank you for asking, Sana." He said before bouncing his eyebrows on Mina who remained silent and just walked behind at him.

"Ohwww okayyy, gowd nightt okayyy, sleep and dream ahbout mewh, i- i lhove youuu!" Sana said with a husky, blabberish tone behind the call. YN was shocked to hear the last words she said to him while Mina... well she didn't took it that well at all.

She was about to pop off the cap on the bottle she heard Sana's "I love you" to him. Something just cracked open inside her mind and all she knew after is that she couldn't control herself anymore. She's moving away from her sanity now.

"W-wait, Sana are you drunk? You should go home now. It's already late." YN said, stuttering and made a chuckle as he is still processing what Sana just told him.

Mina on the other hand, placed the alcohol back on the table and went through her cabinet to open a drawer. She grabbed a bottle of viagra and aphrodisiac that she bought just in case the perfect has come where she will need it, and that finally happened tonight. She smashed it into pieces before mixing both of it to his drink and hers.

YN couldn't understand what Sana is saying now so he bid goodbye and wished her well before dropping the call. "Sorry, Mina I didn't know that she'll-"

"Scratch it. I know. Let me just set up the game." Mina didn't want to hear it no more. She starts to set things up until they are now allowed and ready to play. "Every minutes, we'll drink. Okay?"

"Noted."

As they started the game, Mina was quite hesitant at that rule because she couldn't endure longer the need and the crave increasing through her insides. Throughout the game she starts to rub her thighs and feel her panties getting soaked with her juices. She stares at the TV while biting her lip just to avoid moaning early.

The timer beeped for 10 minutes and finally Mina released a long sigh before beaming broadly  in excitement. "Time to take a shot."

They both hold the cup and they faced at each other. Mina eyed YN and looked at his last innocence for tonight before they counted the three and simulteanously gulped all the drink. They both exhaled a refreshed huff before continuing to play the game.

7 minutes has only passed and they haven't been reached the next turn to drink but both of them can feel the effects now. While YN is playing, Mina started to became handsy on him, touching him all around his body and teasing his crotch by tapping his thighs and pretend to press his fists on it while she cuddled herself beside her.

Mina then balled her fists and cupped YN where she was shocked and impressed to discover how huge and heavy it felt around her touch. YN started to sigh heavily and look down on Mina's playful hand as his eyes starts to get cloudy.

"M-Mina, stop... i'm getting distracted." YN said between his sighs but Mina didn't listen.

"Ssshhh... just focus on playing. Don't fight it, you'll want it soon." Mina whispered in his ear before she bit his earlobe and licked the side of his neck and sucked on his skin to leave enough hickeys.

Mina's massage over his crotch became even more relaxing and enticing. "F-fuck.. w-what are you doing to me, Mina?"

"It's okay, baby~" Mina said as she peppers his cheek with kisses. Nobody could interrupt us, it's just and me... so get naughty if you want..."

YN has finally snapped and his stability has completely covered by the drugs he didn't knew he intake. Mina rotated his head and they went on for a sloppy kiss. YN's hand crawled through the back of her head where she pulled her face closer to his, their french kiss became even more rougher where their nose and their faces starts to rub altogether.

Mina took her place and bent down on YN's lap, where they resumed their kiss. He got to his feet, backed away, and grabbed Mina by the underside of her thighs, cradling her around his body.

They collapsed on the bed together where they had their freedom to make out as much as the drugs consuming their conscience could take. Mina removed his clothes and fiercely showered his body starting from his neck, to his chest down to his abs with licks and kisses.

Mina unbuckled his belt and dragged his pants and boxers down to expose his hardened cock already leaking with impressive amount of pre-cum, a proof that the drugs effectively had YN lusting as much as Mina would want him to feel as hers.

"I- I don't know what's happening to me, but Mina is making me feel good..." YN tries to shake his head but the substances are too strong for him to fight for control.

He surrendered on being overpowered and now he had to just watch Mina quickly stripping her dress, leaving her on her black lingerie with thigh-length stockings and suspenders. She slowly crawled to his legs and stared at him with pure seduction her hand slid through the base of his cock to grip while the other went on to cup his heavy full testicles.

"You don't know how much I've been wanting to taste you, YN. I'm glad I'm going to be the first one to do this, and no one will come after that... because this cock is only mine for me to devour." Mina said through her slow pumpings on his cock before starting to drag her tongue through the length of his shaft.

"Fuccckkk mhmph~" YN moaned as Mina circled the tip of his cock head, creating a tickling yet satisfying sensation. Her hand also began to massage her balls as she placed her cock inside her mouth to suck him off.

Mina's loud gargles and chokes around his cock adds an unbelievable sensation to YN. She tried to press his cock through her throat where her face is now almost touching his crotch. Her eyes starts to get watery until more than 10 seconds she released and went pumping on his dick.

She stood up for a while to remove her black panties before laying down on top of him in reverse, her legs wide open flailed each beside YN's head and for him to witness her dripping wet pussy presented to him in full clarity while her head is now beside her erected cock.

Mina tilted her head to direct his length back into his mouth to suck him off, poking her cheek enough to create a bulge while YN began to play with her clit and flicker his tongue around her walls.

They continue to taste each other until they reached their peak, with YN cumming first by spurting a big load on Mina's mouth, with the rest spilling on her face due to the excessive amount to contain before she followed by squirting her juices around YN's face.

YN opened his mouth to savor Mina's sweet nectar before both humping on their breaths to ride out their post orgasms and release their pleasure.

Mina rolled away from the top of YN's body to straddle him on his lap. She grinded her pussy back and forth on his cock before inserting it inside, creating a loud moan from her.

She started to bounce, fucking her tight cunt on her cock before YN joins her in sync by gripping her waist and starts drilling her upwards, causing Mina to scream and shriek.

The claps became louder and Mina's head rolled up at the intensity of the fucking YN is giving him. This is it, this is the exact feeling that Mina used to imagine having with YN and now, her fantasies has been fulfilled to end her long curiousity and anticipation.

"OHHH YESSS FUCK FUCK FUCK THAT'S IT YN MNGGGHHH HARDER! POUND ME FASTER AND DON'T STOP!!!" Mina cursed and murmured unknown words into his shrinking breath. She started to roll her hips to add more rhythm on YN's cock impaling her walls.

YN pulled her arm to press her upper body on her chest. They kissed again before Mina lets go to release a deep moan as she felt the bed creaking and her body bouncing at the full force of his cock drilling upwards to her abused pussy.

"I'M GONNA CUM I'M GONNA CUM DON'T STOP!" Mina's eyes starts to roll as her pupils were almost absent. Her mouth gaped open, spilling her tongue that is now savoring the heavenly pleasure of his girthy meat ramming through her womb.

"ME TOO! FUCK, NO I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"

"FILL ME UP, I BEG YOU!"

With last strong thrusts remaining, YN and Mina came together, their own fluid mixed and bursted at the same time to intensify the sensation. YN carefully raised Mina up to slide off his slimy cock out of her dripping pussy.

He turned around and grabbed a handful of her perky tits to suck on them one by one. His gnawing and suckle on her nipples were strong and shallow which made Mina whimper in pleasure.

She turned her body to the side and YN raised one of her leg to the air. He rubbed his cock through her soaked lips before inserting it back again, and he didn't went too soft on Mina as he got way rough again on her treatment to the highly obsessed and sex-driven woman.

"ANNGGGHHH YES YES OH IT FEELS SO BETTER, OOOH FUCK I LOVE YOUR THICK COCK SO MUCH YN YEAHHHH UGHHH~ Mina said as she spammed praises again straight to YN's face before giving her again another kiss to shut her up and focus on the wild action they're having on her bed.

YN gets up and lifted Mina with him, not taking out his cock to switch positions. Mina balanced himself on fours and arched her back to raise her huge appetizing ass.

YN thunderously slapped it and takes off his cock for a while to bury his face on his and add stimulation on Mina's puckered hole before reinserting and proceeding to pound Mina just as harder as she wants.

Due to the combination of the viagra and aphrodisiacs they swallowed, the effects of it became multiple for them to go on lengthy fucking sessions for hours, almost emptying the night by trying many different positions.

They fucked on the window with Mina pressed on the glass, exposing theirselves to the outside world where many of the people in the neighborhood are asleep and unable to view to sinful act they're committing.

Mina was even taken through the wall, sandwiched by YN's body while hammering her pussy from below and kneading on her pair of tits bouncing hypnotizingly.

Then they went on a stand and deliver just beside the cabinet for Mina to hold on to, with his cock now demolishing her plump ass before he filled it up with another load of hot creamy cum.

Their wild night was so active, heated and intense that Mina slept through the dawn filled with cum on her holes and some scattered around his body. She looked at YN who is now asleep beside him, she kissed her on the head and grinned in lust and satisfaction for the last time before she succumb into slumber.

The morning arrived, YN woke up groggily and horrifyingly found himself naked on Mina's bed. As he sat up, he saw Mina appearing at the door, with a radiant smile on her face.

"YN! You're awake!" Mina lunges onto him and she showered him again with kisses while hugging her. YN became irritated and pushed her away, dropping her on the floor.

"W-what is this, Mina? What did you do to me, WHY AM I NAKED IN YOUR HOUSE?!", he panickedly asked the suspect.

"Oh, yeah. The after effects of the viagra and the aphrosidiac I put onto your drink are now gone so you couldn't remember." Mina sighed and shook her head in dismay.

"WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT THAT I DON'T REMEMBER?"

"I know, I know it's sad that you don't remember, you would've recall how much we had fun last night." Mina giggled as she slowly stood up.

"What the fuck? D-did I... no, no way." YN denied his guess. "No, I couldn't remember anything now after we played, y-you... drugged me Mina..."

His voice shifted into disbelief and he placed his hands beside her head, his fingers clawing on his hair. "Oh my god... w-what did you do to me, Mina? ARE YOU INSANE?!"

Mina just laughed at his agony. "You were the one who made me like this, I just did what I have to do, YN. You keep on involving yourself with Sana too much, how could you be so dumb that she likes you!"

"And what does it matter to you?"

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YN!" Mina confessed. YN just stared at her in surprise. "I COULDN'T STAND SEEING THAT SLUT OR OTHER GIRLS LAYING THEIR HANDS ON YOU. YOU SHOULD BE MINE! I HAVE TO MAKE YOU MY PROPERTY BECAUSE I-IF I DON'T... WHAT WOULD HAPPEN TO ME?! I... I COULDN'T LIVE IN PEACE WITHOUT HAVING YOU NEAR ME."

Mina kneeled in front of him and looked at him with pleading eyes. "That's why I did what I had to do last night. If I claim you, no one would have the rights to steal what's mine. I get what I deserve to have, you're the one I pick YN! Nothing would stop me and not even you to say that you don't want to be with me."

"You have to love me, YN. I can give you everything you want. This place, it could be your home. We'll turn this into a happy house of balloons, and we'll always gonna have fun as much as you want!" She said as she crazily giggled with her tears flowing through her eyes.

"No... fuck this. You're out of your mind, Mina. I'm leaving." YN quickly stood up and snatched all of his clothes on the floor as he left Mina alone in the room.

Mina's expression changed from odd into a complete unhinged seriousness. She slowly stood up and took out something from her pocket.

YN was about to dress up on his boxers when he noticed something at first before feeling a sudden tingling cursed through his body.

"OH... AGH SHIT!" He shivered and turned to look at the eyes of Mina wearing an unrecognizable face while pressing something like a remote on her hands.

She activated the cock ring she placed in his cock to the full volume after she woke up to make her avoid escaping in case he attempts to, and she called exactly what's going to happen.

YN's moaning goes louder as he witnessed his cock now leaking already with pre-cum. "S-STOP... PLEASE!"

Mina stopped pressing the remote and walked at him. She stomped on his crotch, making the exhausted YN unable to move more.

"You're in my world now, YN. Whether you like it or not, you're staying with me. You belong to me now and nobody else's." Mina intimidatingly declared. "No matter how your mind wants to leave, you can't go and I will never let you go. We will be together forever from now on, do you understand?"

YN started to tear up at the sight of this new darker side of Mina he never thought he would be introduced into. "W-why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I love you, and you will learn someday that loving me too is the best decision you'll ever have." Mina cupped his cheeks and pinched on it. "By the way, the breakfast's ready. Don't you dare do something stupid or else, I'll punish you. Understand?" "Y-yes..."

"Good. For now, let me get my own protein to start this morning." Mina smirked and cackled as she jerked his cock again with her fist again and also through tugging the cock ring back and forth with her fingers.

YN had to endure letting Mina edging his cock for minutes until she decided to release his cum on her glass, tapping her reddened cock head on it and slurping it with her warm mouth to ensure not even a drop would get wasted. YN then disgustingly watched Mina drink his cum through the glass like it's a milk.

YN has been imprisoned by Mina's so-called paradise for 2 months. He tried many attempts to escape and nothing worked. Instead, he just got caught by Mina repeatedly and in result, he had to suffer on the consequences.

When YN got caught by Mina looking for some keys in her room, his hands were smashed by a screwdriver 20 times then commanded him to finger her pussy until she cums. He even tried to peek from some of the windows and shout for help, and Mina blocked all of his sense of sight and ability to speak later that night by muffing him with a scarf and tying his arms on each side of the bed, where Mina would play all over his body and drain his energy afterwards.

Due to that incident, Mina also began placing more cameras around the house to keep a closer look on him. That didn't made YN to stop though as his desperation for freedom still motivates him to keep on looking for other ways.

He attempted to look for his phones but all of it are gone. Even he pleaded at the guard to let him borrow his own but the guard refused for his own sake, stating that if Mina finds out he might get punished and fired for the only job that's keeping him on living.

The more security devices Mina keep on placing around the house as days passes unfortunately made YN to began losing hope on escaping this hell hole. Even his chances for Mina to change her heart for him already ran out, as he has now finally accepted that this isn't the same Mina he once met.

He became Mina's personal slave, pet and a fucktoy, not being able to let him rest even for a day.

Through every corner of the house, Mina would find a way to force him provide the pleasure she seeks by having sex with her through multiple angles and tasks. Doggy at the shower, blowjob while washing dishes, rimming while in laundry or even a 69 during massage.

On the other hand, the girls began to suspect something strange on the disappearance of YN, especially Sana. They all know that Mina was the last person YN has been with, and Sana is monitoring Mina since she have this weird gut that Mina is hiding something from them.

And she was right. One day while she tried to visit Mina's house, the guard didn't let him in. Instead she took a photo of the mansion and informed it to the girls. Dahyun who has a sharp locating skills, found something shocking.

"Unnie, did you notice this?" Dahyun sent a message to Sana before replying it with a cropped photo. Sana stared at it for a second before her mind processed a frightening revelation.

"Isn't this oppa?"

Dahyun discovered a blurred reflection of YN's face screaming at the window.

1 year later, YN visited a psychiatric hospital in Seoul. After meeting a doctor in his office, they walked through the hallway and passed through some nurses, patients and guests to reach the visitation room.

The doctor returned and this time, he brought the person YN came for has entered the room on the opposite side behind the glass.

Mina is wearing a white patient attire with handcuffs removed on her hands for a while. She was arrested when her former friends reported her crime and was sent through at herapy when they discovered that Mina has been diagnozed with psychological and mental disorder.

Her eyes widened at the sight of YN looking at him with poker face.

She remained silent and lowered her head in guilt and shame for more than a minute before YN cuts it off to avoid wasting time.

"How are you?"

Mina was shocked to hear him checking up on her. "W-Why did you come here?"

"Just answer my question." He remained deadpanned.

She gulped and nodded. "I'm fine."

"Good, I guess." He struggled on looking for other words to say to her but Mina went different than him.

"I'm sorry."

He looked at Mina staring at him awfully. "For everything that I've done to you. I know it's not enough for me to redeem my sins but I just want to apologize to you because you deserve it."

"A year has passed Mina, but I had to admit that I'm still trying to recover from what you did to me." YN said to her. "It was a nightmare that always keep me up at night. You scarred my life, took my virginity away without consent, y-you... you violated me, Mina."

His tears started to drop on his cheek. Mina's heart shattered at the aftermath of what she had done. "For the first time in my life, I've never felt so frightened and worried for my state, not even I would expect from the one I admire."

"W-what?" Mina muttered at the phone. She leaned her head closer. "What did you just said?"

"It's true, I did loved you, Mina. It was always you, but I don't think I could tell the same anymore after what you did to me."

"You didn't know, and sometimes I have this guilt and regret with these what ifs of my mind that... if I confessed to you earlier, would you not turn out into someone I never wanted you to be?" YN continued.

Mina started to sob in devastation. She buried her face in embarrassment as she cried harder, hearing all the confession and scolding from the man she thought she would never had a chance at, that's why she did the unthinkable.

Little did she knew that she was actually winning already right from the start. She was the one YN already prefer the moment he met her and how his fond for her developed.

"I should've been patient. Oh God, I'm so sorry..." Mina said. "I could've waited for you, but I never did. I became so desperate, selfish, obsessive, and too greedy on you that I let myself gone crazy when I thought I would be losing you."

"I love you, YN and I meant that... but I understand now that you won't feel the same for me anymore. You don't deserve a psychopath who will make your life a living hell and traumatize you in any ways possible."

YN now felt a glimpse of pity and distress for Mina. The girl just became too attached and mentally unstable caused by the power of love she received that she couldn't contain, and now she fell in victim for it.

This is why he couldn't help but to blame himself believing he has also have a fault that if he didn't became too coward on his feelings, he could've saved Mina and immediately introduce her the adoration she was hoping to receive from him.

"Did I made you scared?"

"Always." Mina whispered. "I was always alone, my parents always abandon me in our house, I know I have my friends with me but... there's something that you did to me. You're the one who cures my loneliness. I thought that if there was a chance that I could make you love me back, you will stay with me all time like you always do and we'll grow together until the end. "

"And I could've done it to you without hesitation, Mina." YN disappointingly stated. His face twitched as another stream of tears escaped in his eyes. "I forgive you, but I will never condone what you did to me. Goodbye, Mina."

Mina smiled at his remark before he stood from his seat. About to walk away, Mina shouted his name for the last time.

"YN!"

He looked back.

"Thank you and don't desert yourself in love because of me, please. Sana likes you, she'll need you and I think you're better off with her. Atleast for her, she could make you happy unlike me who couldn't give it to you in return."

He slightly smiled and remembered that reminder. "I'll ask her later."

He walks out of the room just as the time runs out for his visit. Mina surrendered herself to the doctor and to the police who handcuffed and escorted her out. Mina carried a mix of lingering sorrow and relief, realizing that her mistake cost her to manifest her fears in full reality, that she'll be alone forever but what mattered more for her now is that she'll continue living knowing that YN is now is in good hands.

[wered0gs]

I haven't seen a lot of discussion about RSD when it comes to ADHD discussions, so I thought I would do the honors since it's been affecting me for many years and I'd like people to know more about it!

I have had a diagnosis for ADHD but was never told- instead learning I had autism through therapy but still having some behaviors that I could never explain that just Happened.

I learned I had ADHD over the summer, and with that, severe rejection sensitive dysphoria.

before reading, please keep in mind that this is mostly talking from personal experience and some skimmed research! not experiencing RSD doesn't mean you do/don't have ADHD, and it may not appear like how it appeared for me. I don't only have autism + adhd either, so those may also contribute to any differences! ^^

RSD is the immense emotional pain after being criticized, rejected, or even teased (ignore my misspell in the panel). This rejection can be real or perceived, and we react like this because it hurts.

The pain can manifest as aggression, bringing on symptoms of depression (thoughts of s/h, isolation, demotivation, etc) and anxiety/panic attacks.

it can cause physical aliments like the above. For me, it causes my heartrate to skyrocket, heart palpitations, the feeling of being in a crisis, and extreme shaking to occur along with stomach pain.

(In fact, right now I'm going through it because making a post talking about this, despite having & dealing with it, makes me scared of other's opinions on it.)

RSD can also take the form of avoiding situations, people, or conversations where rejection or criticism is very possible.

Like other types of dysphoria, it is out of our control and hard to manage. It can last from days to weeks to months, all depending on both the trigger* and the individual.

I had a RSD episode that was on-and-off for a little over a year or two; getting more tame and bearable as it slowly drifted and stopped haunting my mind with the incident.

Compared to the other times my RSD was set off, this moment was a rather big moment in my life and ended up permanently changing me moving forward - which can be the reason why it lasted so long.

Despite how unbearable it can get, there are some ways to cope with it & lessen the effect it has.

Communicate - If you need time to process something that's told to you, you should say so (as difficult as it is). Tell the person(s) involved about your RSD, how you need time to digest information like this and take some time to relax. Trying to respond to the information while going through the head of the dysphoria will be very rough and might not be what you truly want to say.

Distract - This is really useful for me personally! Do something that grabs your attention or occupies your mind. One of RSD's main symptoms is rumination, thinking of something over and over again. I usually listen to music, draw, or play a game that won't frustrate me - like minecraft! (i'd say rain world but some of you would call me a maniac /lhj)

Perspective - This may require some communication, but it can really help and connect with others. See what the involved people thought / perceived, explain, talk. This doesn't always have the chance to end in rainbows and rekindling but at least you understand. Sometimes simply hearing the person explain their own side is enough to ease my RSD, being able to have someone explain themselves to me so i can understand them better.

I also wanna point out the "don't take it personally" thing that people try to use to deal with it isn't something i agree with since we're going to take it personally at first regardless. Later on, not really, but you're trying to cope with the symptoms... telling someone (or yourself) that they're too sensitive & over-reacting is the worse thing you could do.

With time, you can even begin to build up your 'armor' and be able to sustain yourself in situations you might get hurt in. Of course, some things may be able to sneak past and hurt you more than you expect, but at the end of the day, you're trying your best to go about it the best you can while taking so many blows. you're doing great.

OK i dont have a lot more to add so if anyone else would like to talk about their experiences, please feel free! Character showcased here was my beloved fursona Shiki! i'm just a little neurodivergent + black artist from new york :]

hope you enjoyed it! sorry for the long post </3

[antianakin]

@theneutralmime

I guess that depends on what you mean by weird or difficult to understand.

I think the dialogue is sometimes pretty clunky, I think it's aged really badly in some places, I think sometimes Lucas didn't explain things as well as maybe needed to for a primarily Western audience. But I don't think it's IMPOSSIBLE to understand, either. It's made for children to be able to understand the story and I think he managed that perfectly fine. I think by and large that the intended audience of the Prequel films understood what the story was. They know that the Jedi are the good guys and Anakin's the bad guy even if he seems nicer at the start. It's mostly adults who pick apart the Prequels and find it too clunky to be understood.

I think that Lucas's writing strength is not necessarily in his dialogue, but I also think he WAS intentional with what dialogue he chose and that there's reasons for why characters speak the way they do or say the things they do. Anakin is bad at flirting and awkward because he wanted Anakin to come off as a whiny teenager. This was entirely intentional. You can discuss whether making Anakin a whiny teenager was a good choice or not, but I think he succeeds at making Anakin feel like a whiny, bratty nineteen year old with like little to no ability to be suave.

I think it's possible that popular fandom interpretations of the Prequels have made it difficult to view them the way Lucas intended. It became SO widely accepted that the Prequels were about the Jedi being corrupt that it was nearly impossible to understand them any other way, and it DID take reading several essays on the dialogue and the different interviews Lucas had where he explained some of it for me to change my perspective on it. But that might be less of a problem of the film and its dialogue being weird on its own and more of a problem of fandom interpretations becoming so popular that they manage to overwrite my own understanding of the films. Also, if you're a more casual fan of the films, like I was before a couple of years ago, you're not necessarily looking up interviews where Lucas discusses these things or watching the films with his audio commentary on to hear him talk about certain scenes, so if a certain fandom interpretation is accepted as the truth and starts to spread, you might end up more familiar with THAT than you are with the things Lucas has said that counteract it.

One of the things I needed essays to help me with was attachment, because I DO think that Lucas failed to make sure that his definition of it was made clear to an audience that would've had a very different association with the word already. That being said, I think he DOES make the THEME clear within the story, about selfishness and greed and an inability to let go and how burning the world for the people you love is bad and how you can always choose to be bad but you can always choose to be good again too. I don't think the themes that Lucas was going for in his films are honestly that weird or different from what we OFTEN see in films in Hollywood. The concept of "letting go" is literally everywhere. It crops up in SO MANY films, especially in films aimed at the same demographic, but even films aimed at a more adult audience, too. It's an incredibly basic and popular theme and it's not hard to pick up in his films.

But I think people heard the word "attachment" and it flipped them out because the word attachment is basically equivalent to "relationship" or "love" most of the time in more Western media (see literally any Jane Austen film, they use the word a lot in there) and so they came to the conclusion that the Jedi forbid relationships and love entirely and then it led them to the conclusion that the Jedi were corrupt and THAT'S why Anakin fell to the dark side. That one word being tossed into the dialogue without adequate clarification on how Lucas was defining it had a cascade effect on people's ability to understand the story within the Prequels.

For example, there IS a parallel between Anakin's fall and the corruption of an institution in the Prequels, so people are picking up on something that DOES EXIST in the films, they're just applying it to the wrong institution. It's not the Jedi Order that parallels Anakin's corruption, it's the SENATE. But because people applied the corruption thing to the Jedi, they ended up dismissing the Senate as just already evil because it became the Empire later and it just becomes yet another way to blame the Jedi for things because they were working for an inherently evil organization and either didn't care or were too blind to realize it. So you can see how a misunderstanding of one word in one line of dialogue in one film ended up changing the entire understanding of the films.

But to a kid watching the movies, the word attachment might not yet be something they're familiar enough with to misunderstand. They might just gloss over that line of dialogue the way they would anything that involved a word they didn't totally understand and just rely on the visuals and music and other dialogue to lead them to the correct conclusions. Kids watching these films are capable of picking up that OF COURSE the Jedi are the good guys the whole time, of course they're not corrupt monsters, everything in the films made it very clear that they're the good guys. And it's a lot easier to pick up on the real themes of the story and the way the films are telling it when you start from that conclusion.

So, for me, when I was first reading those essays about what attachment meant in Star Wars and what Lucas had said about it, it didn't feel like I was getting a whole new understanding of the story so much as things were FINALLY slotting into place with what I'd understood as a child. My feelings about the Prequels and the story I'd gotten from them had never really aligned with what everyone else seemed convinced was true, but I'd never met anyone else who saw them positively before, so I'd just assumed if I liked them then it was because I'd watched them incorrectly, that I only liked them because I'd been shown the Prequels first when I was really young whereas everyone else had watched the Original Trilogy first. For me, reading these different interpretations of the Prequels that showcased a very different story than the one most people knew about wasn't NEW (not precisely anyway), it was just VALIDATING. There was a REASON I'd liked them before, a reason I still DID like them as an adult, even though everyone around me seemed to hate them and believe unequivocally that they were terrible films.

So is some of the dialogue weird? Sure, it's clunky sometimes, and there are things that aren't made clear enough, but I don't think Lucas was RELYING on his dialogue to get his story across. He's said before that in some ways he views Star Wars as silent films and the dialogue that's in it is more like music. The story isn't told through the dialogue for him, it's told through the visuals and the dialogue itself is secondary. And this works out fine when you're a kid who's used to dialogue sometimes not being understandable anyway and so you're more reliant on visuals and music to help you figure out the story, but the adults who were watching it were more used to relying on the dialogue to tell them everything they needed to know and so these films fell short. So while I do think the dialogue was flawed, I don't think it really hinders understanding of the story Lucas was trying to tell, but popular fandom interpretations of the films becoming the ONLY interpretation of the films DOES hinder understanding of that story.

[lucabyte]

Your gender thought type essays have made me curious about what your oc creation/development process is like! It seems to be something you put a lot of thought into and that’s very interesting (especially cause my circles don’t often go into detail in that area)

I'm delighted to hear you're curious!! I'll give as thorough an answer as I can manage, though it'll likely be a bit disorganised. Okay, so... I'm gonna use a couple examples for this, and since you specified gender stuff I'm gonna go for some where gender/sexuality are integral, even if in seemingly counterproducive ways (but that'll be the last few...)

So. The first character that comes to mind here for me in terms of like... A lot of thought going into their gender is Lavender.

So going all the way back... Lavender was made in 2015.

Spreadsheet puts her at the 13th character in the setting, creation-date ways! So she's Been around a while.

Part 1: A Core Idea

Now, why was Lavender made? This is the first step of character creation. Well, she was made to tick a bit of a box. I realised my only girls at the time were all tomboyish so I needed a cute girl. And this was 2015, so she arose in the form of a Waifu Joke. She was intended to be a side-character with no real plot ties, so I just designed a character as cute as possible, named her simply (Lavender Wafeu == literally Colour and Waifu) and was basically done? 7 months later I would make Mafioso to slightly further the joke, in that giving Lavender a girlfriend makes her unpursuable* as a waifu. This also gave me a stark butch/femme pair, and I recall around this era there was a joke going around on tumblr of 'Indestructable Lesbians' as opposed to buried gays. This kinda became their thing. Two lesbians the plot wouldn't touch and they wouldn't be endangered.

.... And then that was kinda it. She was a cute girl who was fun to draw, shy, and reserved in nature. An opposition to Mafioso's brash (but secretly a little nervous) demeanor. I would literally just liken this to flutterdash outright. I was basically just doing flutterdash in terms of their personalities.

SO: This is the first step to all my characters. Find a core concept, or more likely, a core joke. Lavender's core joke is a very rough and (frankly unfunny) "your waifu isn't going to fuck you" joke. But you can see how she was built out of it. And we'll get to how that building happened next.

(^ Weird 2015 era lavender with her total lack of emotive range and flat characterisation)

Part 2: Dormancy

Lavender stayed unchanged for quite a while, in this flat state. She picked up a few things, mostly little 'twists' to her character. ie. she could hold her own in a fight, is surprisingly quick to jump to (cartoonish) violence, and likes a good steak. All very basic little things, obvious "oh bet you didn't expect That" contradictions.

She didn't recieve much attention during this time despite me really liking her design still. Mafioso languished even worse in this era, with her mother Omerta picking up most of the development instead. Overall, these two were very, very boring. No amount of little superficial additions could save them from this.

But it... hints at something, right? It hints that maybe there's a facade somewhere, that maybe the perfect-cute-girl thing might actually take a little bit of effort to upkeep...? Hrm...

Part 3: A Fresh Perspective

So, sometime in 2020, I was finally remaking my 2016-era spreadsheet of all my characters from the ground up, since I needed to remove a lot of ms excel specific formatting it had in it.

And while going through, I was being helped by @samhainian, who I had befriended in the years between. And they remarked that I didn't have enough directly trans characters in the cast, to which I agreed. I had a handful of tokens at the time (Adder and Angel spring to mind?) but not many more, so we literally just went down the list with suggestions. And when Sam suggested Lavender, I reacted with confusion. Because... Wait. Is she not trans? But she's so feminine? All of my characters lean extremely gender-neutral in presentation unless they're trying to do gender on purpose...?

And this just, unlocked her whole character like a skeleton key.

I was making her do her gender on purpose. The reason she had those contradictions is because she's putting in the effort to appear like this perfect, girl-next-door, waifu type. Something that doesn't really work if she doesn't have girlhood to prove.

From here, her coy 'maybe she has more to her than cute girl' hints were instantly recontextualised as a thing She was Doing. And instead of being random superficial tidbits, they were Depth. And her cartoonish 'extremely mild-mannered and polite persona' suddenly became a very human facade.

So, she had a new core to build around. And her lack of anything going on before in terms of backstory suddenly felt contextual? She's clearly fresh new to this. She had already had the backstory of being a very young (about 19~21) person who had moved to a new town to live on her own-- Suddenly that makes sense. She's forging a whole new identity. Her polite 'never really talking about herself because she's an object for the audience to desire' quietness becomes intentional evasion. She doesn't have a backstory, because she doesn't want it to be any of your business.

And ironically, this immediately Gave Her the backstory she had been missing. Her wiles and hidden 'smarter than she looks' becomes so relevant as to be real character traits...

I already somewhat went over this (and a number of other gender thoughts, including my thoughts on my myriad 'cis but not' or 'nb in a specific direction') in a thing I wrote, woof, 2 years ago: (LINK) which was a ramble about a lot of my character's genders... In that I summarised Lavender's gender as such:

Part 4: In practice

Okay so it's all well and good that I realised Lavender is Trans Gemder. But that's not where it ends, because she finally became refined and polished to the point of um. Quadrupling her image count on toyhouse. because of Purrgatorio.

See, the other reason I was getting my spreadsheets in order was for Purrgatorio (the original flavour of it, the visual novel) and I needed to just do some general housekeeping.

Lavender, Mafioso and Ess shared a route in VN!Purrgatorio, being that I saw them as a triad of characters. While this characterisation of her basically did nothing interesting, aside from showing her fiery side, this would later become the basis for her being one of the first characters met in actual purrgatorio, where she, being polite and nice, and established back in 2016ish to be one of the few characters Chrome isn't a total asshole to--- She gets to meet Ali.

Now this is where I would say a lot of the real development happened. Right there, in action, in putting her to the test of real writing. All of her characterisation stops being hypothetical, and instead something I have to portray. And I found as I wrote, she grew more deep simply by giving her such an odd situation to be in. And of note, by having Ali be intimidated by talking to cute girls, it gave her the upper hand in the dynamic-- Really allowing me to show off her ability to lead a conversation, and her quiet confidence in herself-- as well as hinting at the thing she isn't quite so confident with.

It's also allowed me to start thinking about her sexuality, too. This is another thing that goes back to her flimsy core concept. The Waifu is generally a sexless being in their own right, having sexuality projected onto them by the narrative or audience. In fact, a lot of shounen girls don't get to be romantically forward-- both because it risks alienating the intended selfshipper-audience, and also because showing too much confidence and autonomy in their sexuality can be too threatening for the chuunibyo audience, who aren't yet comfortable with their own sexuality and-- wait! Look at that! Another part of the core concept I can toy with! Wouldn't it make sense, if she's meant to be a deconstruction of The Waifu Archetype, for her to have that confidence and autonomy? This is what 2015-me was clumsily trying to grasp with the whole lesbian thing... So why not just re-angle that into her being confident and forward. It fits with her new personality, so it works!

*oh hey there's that asterisk. I also realised she had chemistry with Ali! Given the way she is level-headed and rather logical deep down, her curiosity drives this. She's not going to pass up a chance to know a literal Alien... But it also further illustrates how badly Mafioso has been left in the dust by her. (She's been quietly tinkered with behind the scenes ready for her reintrodcution, but for a while, I was really struggling!! Like, considering overhauling her character levels of struggling!! But, we managed, I think. She's yet to be introduced and put into practice yet, but it's upcoming.) To the point where I've broken them up! At least for now. Mafioso needs to prove herself I think, since now she can't rely on Lavender being waifish and easily won over.

TO SUMMARISE THE MAJOR POINTS THERE:

Any joke/idea can be a suitable core, even if flimsy, you just need to find which parts are interesting to either double down on or deconstruct

It's okay for characters to take a long time to form! If you don't feel connected to a character they might need a shake up, but also YOU might need a shake up. Lavender needed a new perspective from someone with a different approach to gender as me, and for I myself to become more comfortable with Real Sexuality (ive literally just aged nearly 10 years itll happen) before she could really shine.

Following on from the above you basically never need to throw a character out completely. You should try and find what it is you like about them, or consider core, and perhaps try and reframe or refract those elements. A character might get demoted to non-main status sometimes, but why throw away that depth? They can hang out on the sidelines if that's better for them.

Sometimes a character won't feel done until you write them! You can do this with RP if you have the ability, but I wrote Purrgatorio instead, which is intentionally low-stakes and non-canon so I don't get too freaked out about writing it. It's a playground for testing characterisaton, and putting characters in weird pairings they otherwise wouldn't to see if something interesting arises.

SOME OTHER EXAMPLES FROM MY BACK CATALOGUE:

Lavender is a bit of a daunting pick, given that she's spent nearly 10 years slowly rotating in my brain, only to finally become realised in the last 3-4 or so. But I do have some more recent quick examples, as well as another giant thing you can read if you want to.

GIANT THING TO READ IF YOU WANT IT: I've posted abt this before way ages ago but I wrote up a whole gigantic thing on my probably 2 most in depth characters. It can be found here (LINK) and also has a longass diatribe about their genders, sexualities, and the core thing they were originally riffing on. (Which was like. a specific type of anime boy ship i was a sucker for, that I eventually realised I was making way more interesting than most anime i was into was bothered to do)

It's a very thorough look into my thought process, including ANOTHER diatribe on purrgatorio granting me some good boons of character.

OTHER EXAMPLE 1: ALI

Okay Ali is too complicated to get into thoroughly here, but they're another good example of a core idea spiralling out.

Core idea: Blank slate visual novel protagonist, so gender neutral and a bit of a flimsy everyman. No real name, only a default name if you left the entry blank. (Ali, a shortening of the canon surname). #FFFFFF skin to keep the jokey ambiguity and pink hair to reference Dante's silly red hat.

Twists: Canon assigned surname of Alighieri, implying them to be some descendent of The Real Dante. And they're in a VN so there's a spooky easter egg where you can roll a death screen that shows them as an ominous demonic Thing instead of a regular human.

The, VN!Purrgatorio got shelved, and because they were human instead of a furry they got shuffled into other projects. A furry version of them showed up in a different project riffing on the demon thing, making them a child-friendly antichrist with 2 siblings based on the tragicomedy masks. Then that furry version's stuff got shoved onto the human version who was just a half-demon kid in Creature Feature. THEN we decided they'd be half-succubus to keep the ability to shift between the sexes (referencing the blank slate gender ambiguity of the VN). THEN that became 'nerd who is freaked out by being a sex demon and doesn't like the ethical implications of their existance but is still kinda miffed that they arent Getting Any' who STILL HAD the antichrist stuff from the furry version....

(^ technically a completely seperate ali ive not done anything with in years lol)

Like you get it. It's a giant katamari of STUFF from all different settings. This is what I mean by 'you never really need to scrap a character'. Because after all this shoving them around into different projects and them accruing things (the 'guy who is really concerned with informed consent is a succubus/incubus' angle really informed them here, as well as deciding that they're apathetic about the magic sex characteristic changes.) we threw them right back into the original setting of Purrgatorio and it went WAY BETTER once they actually had some character traits!

But that core idea still stands a little. Not in them being an everyman, but in prompting them to become an altersex character when fleshed out, and in the way that they're distinctly still tied to that second-person-narration that VNs have, and the eventual 4th wall break they got in the VN informed their powerset as 'narrative manipulator'.

also as a note here: DON'T BE AFRAID TO PLAY WHILE YOUR SETTING ISN'T DONE!

VN!Purrgatorio got shelved because I redid a bunch of MYMK's setting when I was finishing it up. But It was worth it even unfinished.

Ali themselves when in Current!Purrgatorio has spent, up until very recently, their whole time with their home setting (Creature Feature) in a state of being deeply unfinished and in need of a reshake. It's finally getting that now, but it was still fine for me to reference what I knew likely wouldn't be changing! They were able to function just fine without their home setting being solid for upwards of 2-3 years. Obviously this shouldn't be done for *finished* works, but when you're just playing, like I am with Purrgatorio, it's okay to keep things fluid and effectively quietly retcon things later.

OTHER EXAMPLE 2: PEACH TRACY

Peach tracy is an actually recent character, and is under @samhainian's purview, as with the rest of Moraine. Now, she was made with a very distinct gender/sexuality in mind, unlike a lot of my characters who stumble ass-backwards into one.

Peach is the 'token girl' of her group (the other two being Red, a closeted and unaware transfem, and Toyon a he/him butch.) and well, her gender is basically "tik tok girlie", as is her core concept. She only works if she's a pampered cisgender straight girl from a rich background. She's nice! But she's privileged.

Her twist however, is that she is wracked by the guilt of her and her group letting a friend take the fall for an Illegal Youtube Prank to save their own skin, and as such her entire character unravels from there.

Because she has all this guilt, it stands that her Girliepop Persona must be somewhat constructed. She's leaning in to the femininity as a shield and a deflector. She's, y'know, a white girl.

So her gender ends up being overperformed, and she's petrified of expressing her sexuality due to it being tied up in this image of purity. She's the exact type of person to psyche herself out into believing those 'having a crush on your friend is problematic' tumblr posts.

But none of this would really work if she did not start as a (white) girl, able to use that shield. If she were a dude or nonwhite-coded she would not have the ability to react to her situation that way. Ergo, she is actually built out of her identity this way.

(As for her sexuality, she is unhealthily self-flagellating about it, so it ends up just being unpleasant. This was a genuine surprise to myself and @samhainian when we were discussing it. We hadn't thought about it prior to starting some lighthearted riffing about assigning characters kinks literally bc we were bored when we had the horrifying realisation that Peach would not be safe about this shit AT ALL due to a lack of self preservation and way more ambient suicidality than we realised she had until we dug here. We quickly resurfaced from the joke conversation into an actual deconstruction of how she's internalised a lot of blame and decided to go distinctly carceral with it for herself. so there's another tip: Even if you aren't making nsfw content, poking around a character's sexuality will sometimes reveal raw truths that come from sexuality being very vulnerable by default.)

Peach is overall an interesting contrast to Lavender, since they're both Girls Being Feminine On Purpose, but one is transfem and one is. Well god idk what peach will end up but she'll need to unpack it.

(I note that peach is white also, since while I rarely intentionally racially code my characters, sometimes i SUPER do.)

OTHER EXAMPLE 3: VIRGIL MALACODA

Okay because I've talked about a number of girls so far lets be brief about a fuckin Dude.

Virgil is like, some real toxic masculinity shit. He would probably be fucked up in some different way if he were born a girl, but he's distinctly falling into a lot of traps due to his upbringing as "A dude who was promised he'd get power when he grew up".

His dude-ness is a very flat fact to me in that way, and he's similar to Tabitha in that regard since it's one of the ways they're meant to reflect each other. Dudes who's place as patriarch-to-be saved them from being pawned off as a wife, but is still responsible for a lot of their misery. Certainly the better of the two options, but could still be better!

Virgil's themes of masculinity being a simultaneous shield and blinder is a simple one but I go back to it a lot because it can be true a lot of the time in antiquated social situations like, say, the upper class. So, being a villain, he does end up being a condemnation of the structures that disincentivise healthy masculinity. He's necessarily amab because he is the result of how particularly regressive views of masculinity can shape a child into a repressed and miserable adult.

Whether or not virgil stays a dude or not if he ever figures out his way of viewing power structures was Fucked Up and Bad is anybody's guess. It's not really Masculinity that was hurting him, so much as a rich asshole's narrow view of it. So there's no real reason for him to reject a healthier version of it outright, it's just whether he'll ever get there...

CLOSING REMARKS:

Okay writing in the tumblr post editor is starting to scare me with errors so I should probably close this out. But yeah this is a little bit of a run down of where my head is usually at when making characters. A lot of it is just batting jokes back and forth until they become something more solid, which I don't know that I really got across here.

Like, a lot a lot of my characters are built around a core joke. Usually what-ifs like.

"What if a shounen-type card game anime protagonist was just as brash and head-full-of-air as the rest of the, but a girl"

"What if Ed Sheeran had a cheating scandal with two tboys and it made the radio fucking horrible to listen to"

"What if a wrestler was really, really wide and also clearly into rubber"

"What if somebody took the 'blonde anime boy who barely shows emotion' trope seriously because that kind of repression can't be good"

"What if a guy was specifically interested in becoming a Soil Scientist from like, age 4, and never gave up that dream"

^ If you can figure out who's who then you win a prize (a kiss)

But yeah. Jokes upon jokes upon jokes. Assign them classpects and pokemon and put them into speed/power/fly formation and just joke for as long as you possibly can until you hit on something. And if a joke feels really right, or completely off the mark, try and dig in and find why.

Like. I joke about the sexuality thing but it does help since it's so disarming and immediately a bit childishly funny often. Sometimes you'll end up with say, something as serious as "Despite being friends with The Fence, Selene probably shouldn't be left unsupurvised in kink spaces because she ABSOLUTELY does not have the ability to restrain herself and not take her anger issues out on strangers" and sometimes its as silly as "even outside of being asexual, ess is never jackin that shit because if he got caught in any kind of mildly embarrasing scenario it'd ruin his whole year so the cost/benefit analysis of that really doesn't work out"

Because like. both tell you about the characters, and you can also read them more broadly now. Selene ruins relationships by letting anger at unrelated things get in the way, Ess keeps himself from doing even utterly harmless things out of deep social anxiety.

Like yeah, i got to them via goofing about sex but it's still character analysis at the end of the day so long as you put The Reading first*

*DISCLAIMER: im asexual im only ever doing stuff for the read lol . it might be more difficult if youre allosexual . or maybe itll be easier. i dont know just dont get too lost in the sauce. think with ur brain not ur other parts

ALSO gender and sexualty often end up linked so it makes sense to end up at one from the other a lot of the time. It happens.

And as an addendum if you wonder where i tend to literally Design characters? Like visually? It's usually at some point between the first few jokes and before naming them. Though sometimes names come first.

OVERALL: A character should have a core concept to them to start with. This core concept CAN SUCK and be flimsy, or a joke, or even a joke you no longer find funny. But you can always refer back to it when building a character up. If you want to capture the concept, work toward it, if you want to deconstruct or mock the concept, then do that instead. If you sour on a joke, maybe find a way to satirise or deconstruct what you're no longer finding funny.

Sometimes this core concept is steeped in a specific cultural thing, be it race, gender, sexuality, ect, and those necessitate thinking about. Sometimes it's not and those things can practically be an afterthought, but once you lock it in it's likely to begin informing the later choices as it becomes part of the scaffolding.

(To hop back to why you even asked this Q: I so thoroughly read Siffrin as amab BECAUSE they had so many themes about Not Having Changed and clinging to what they knew, and so working backwards from that it only made sense to me that they mustn't've done a big overhaul YET or made any big decisions about that YET by the time we see them in game, because that's what gels best with their themes of being Too Afraid To Change and being a contrast to Isa who has changed a bunch, and a comfort to Mira who hasn't changed at all in their gender. Then it was a case of looking through the game for more evidence either for or against this reading, and I found a lot of evidence for it, in my opinion. But I did so Because I noticed that the themes were Stronger if read this way, and because I conceptualise characters as themes and concepts FIRST it made sense to try and work back to those themes.)

But yeah. TL;DR:

Ground yourself with a Hook for the character, sometimes making it sillier makes it easier to think about.

Try and think about how they would be formed by the world around them, or what their behaviour says about how they must've been formed

Don't worry about things taking a long time. Sometimes a character needs someone else to make a suggestion, or for you to grow and change a little before they click

Putting it into action helps a lot, even if its just roleplay or short snippets. If you can't 'feel out' what a character would do in a situation, that's when it's time to think about their goals for how they want to be seen as a person (including, if they don't want to be seen at all...!) and what hard boundaries they have say, morally.

I am by no means a like. Expert on any of this. I'm fumbling through it all just as much as the next guy (AND... I'M ACTUALLY SOMEWHAT OF A HYPOCRITE. I THINK CHARACTERS ARE BEST SEEN AS 'NARRATIVE CONSTRUCTS' RATHER THAN 'PEOPLE', SO ALL THIS ADVICE BEING SO CHARACTER FOCUSED RATHER THAN NARRATIVE FOCUSED IS MISSING THE FOREST FOR THE TREES LOL....) but apparently people do Like my characters? So, what do I know i suppose LMAO

[cynthiaandsamus]

(While reading Olympus I've been thinking about the philosophy of Part 2 and part of it has always kind of bugged me, like each Lostbelt seems more perfect than the last and we just happen to find some wrinkle to justify it being bad even though I'm sure a lot of people suffering in this world would take that tradeoff for some of these places, like regardless of how bad some of them are underneath it would be better for people to live like that even if we see it as 'unearned' from the outside perspective and it felt like the bad stuff was just tacked on as an afterthought to be like "Oh yeah blow it up, it's okay, it doesn't have the suffering of the real world so it's not REAL. And that bothered me, it read to me like the point of living in the real world IS the suffering, like if we somehow managed to cure world hunger we'd be the next on the chopping block because the unanswering weird force that decides what good history is wants us to keep suffering. And I get the whole "Kingdom Hearts is Light" thing they're going for with the best in humanity and all that but it just seemed so weird on a humanitarian level to be like "yeah this is fine" to all the abject suffering in the (Fate version of the) world.

And then something kinda clicked for me, I remember watching Apocrypha and that anime is very weird because I dunno about the novel but the anime makes it seem like they're not really sure why Shirou Amakusa is bad until they get to his place, like they don't know what his fucking plan is and just kinda assume it's bad and will kill as many people as possible based on that baseless accusation, but when they finally hear his plan for the Salvation of humanity there's no Human Instrumentality darkness behind it, like it would fundamentally just be good for everyone but they still reject it based on the idea that "If you hand salvation to humanity they'll never know if they could've done it themselves." now in Apocrypha because this kinda comes out of nowhere late in the game it just sounds like Sieg's butthurt about Shirou killing his waifu and basically committed to stopping the 'evil' plan they all sacrificed so many people for and makes it sound like people have to "earn" the right to not suffer and die for nothing which again I get the idea it's going for but you're still saying "Hey the world is on fire but I'm not gonna fix it because Shirou Amakusa's not a present-day dude, sorry Haiti, keep starving".

But I think FGO does this a lot better because if you apply the "If you hand salvation to humanity they'll never know if they could've done it themselves" moral to the Lostbelts something becomes a lot clearer, the salvation humanity receives in every Lostbelt is flawed BECAUSE it's not something humanity earned for itself, because it was something gifted by divine force and powers beyond the peoples' control and also because if they wrote actualy good places for us to blow up it'd be too dark to sell to horny teenagers but shhh. It's not saying that if we stop suffering humanity will stagnate, it's saying that the only end to suffering that will be worth it is one that humanity creates itself. Something that isn't human can't create a truly perfect ending for humanity. This also kinda bugged me in Apocrypha because they start talking about how human magic can reach the point of being soulblobs on its own if people believe in themselves or whatever and that's just not something applicable to real life since that power system doesn't exist and the idea that we can create anything like that in any sort of realistic world is hopelessly naive, but as far-flung as the FGO version of it is, even if it'll probably never happen, it emphasizes it's the only thing worth doing.

[goingbuggy]

When you have time I would LOVE to hear your thoughts about post time skip buggy!!

Hi, anon! Sorry for the late-ish reply. I thought carefully about how I wanted to reply, but alas, here I am again, starting my metas in the strangest places. Anyways, here’s a seemingly unimportant question: Why is it funny that Buggy keeps failing upwards?

My answer also happens to be one of Pixar's 22 Rules of Storytelling:

"Coincidences to get characters into trouble are great; coincidences to get them out of it are cheating."

You might be wondering why I chose this quote -- after all, Buggy manages to escape most conflicts by sheer coincidence. Take the canon-filler episode(s) “Little Buggy's Big Adventure,” for example; coincidence is the sole reason why he ends up on Gaimon’s island and eventually finds Alvida, one of his future allies. But for as much as Oda is guilty of using coincidences to benefit Buggy, he also creates coincidences to get Buggy into trouble. Sure, Buggy left on good terms with Gaimon/found Alvida, but only after:

Suffering a humiliating defeat at the hands of Luffy

Losing most of his body

Being chased by killer fish/eaten by a ginormous bird

Nearly getting shot in the head by Gaimon over a misunderstanding

Being chased AGAIN by a deadly crab???? LMAO???

Buggy’s “luck” functions like a pendulum -- for every good thing that happens to him, horrible things are guaranteed to follow. This core aspect of his character is what keeps the gag afloat. Buggy is never rewarded by the narrative without experiencing consequences. In order to earn moments of respite, he has to suffer.

I find it hilarious when people argue that Buggy doesn’t deserve to have good things happen to him. Because, yeah? Duh. Oda loves having his cake and eating it too. It’s not necessarily good to play both sides with the audience when it can cheapen emotional impact, but Oda will absolutely continue to make Buggy both a complete joke and a genuine character. He has fun that way. However, he’s not going to help Buggy without hurting him first.

But that's a very meta perspective. How does Buggy view his own beneficial coincidences? He’s now an emperor, and extremely close to the One Piece/Pirate King title that he so desperately wants. But why does he think he’s being rewarded, in-universe?

His facade.

His devoted followers, his influence, that billion-berry bounty, his emperor status -- all of it stems from his fake persona and its snowball effect. He’s well aware of this. In fact, I think it’s likely that he hates himself for being such a coward and hiding behind lies. But when he sees his true self as worthless, what else can he do except dig himself into a deeper hole?

Look at 1082. Buggy finally stands up for himself, claiming that wealth and power come from chasing after your dreams -- not grand schemes. Here, he’s talking to himself as much as he’s talking to Crocodile and Mihawk.

“This is wrong… This isn’t how I wanted my life to go…”

It’s a very depressing peek at the man behind the curtain. Buggy only ever wanted to follow his dreams, but he uses schemes to get ahead instead, because they're all he thinks he has. His lies are a crutch to depend on, so he doesn't have to face the truth: he doesn't believe in himself. 

To me, 1082 reads as a "Hail Mary" moment from a character at an emotional low. Buggy still doesn't believe in himself, but he is saying: Fuck it. If Shanks and I finally have an equal chance at becoming Pirate King, I at least have to try... Right? We can confirm his lack of self-confidence, because Buggy even admits he got here by “luck or chance or whatever."

He cannot entertain the possibility that he'd get this far any other way. Of course he doesn't see himself as Shanks' equal. It’s one of many reasons he didn’t want to go with Shanks at Loguetown; he assumed he’d be working “under” Shanks (even though Shanks only said “Come with me!"), because he truly believes he is lesser in terms of potential/greatness. ("You coward!" can also be interpreted as Buggy projecting his own insecurities onto Shanks.) Buggy's decision in 1082 is a desperate leap of faith. "Go for broke," "shoot for the moon," etc.

Post-Timeskip Buggy may appear more dangerous than ever before, but in reality, he’s just a small fish in a big pond. The farther he crawls his way up the ladder of success, the worse he feels, because the life he has built is not how he wanted to live at all. Based on everything we've known about Pre-Timeskip Buggy, we should expect him to be happier than ever. He has influence. Power. His monetary value in the eyes of the World Government has shot up exponentially. But look at the poor guy. He's miserable.

If you've ever seen Better Call Saul, I think this scene from S4E9 is very similar to how I feel about Buggy:

JIMMY: There you go! Kick a man when he’s down! KIM: Jimmy, you are always down.

Buggy is a character who is always down, even when you think he might be up. Until he stops maintaining that false image, he will always be punished by the narrative pendulum he's trapped himself in.

Unfortunately, change is hard, especially with the stakes he’s currently facing. If Buggy actually has to fight Blackbeard, Luffy, or Shanks... he can’t. Not alone. He needs people to believe the facade, because that's what got him here in the first place. He may look invincible, but he is quite possibly the most vulnerable character right now.

Crocodile and Mihawk would sell him to Satan for one corn chip (especially after that stunt he pulled in 1082). We haven't seen him improve his physical abilities (unless Oda pulls some off-screen bullshit). As an emperor, he has more people gunning for his head than ever before. Buggy’s last line of defense is his long-running gag -- if Oda decides to subvert our expectations, he’s a dead man walking.

And who would he have to blame but himself? He built his image on smoke and mirrors. Eventually, he's going to have to pay the price.

If Pre-Timeskip Buggy is a man defined by coincidence, then Post-Timeskip Buggy is defined by consequence.

[tehamelie]

Various fine opinions on the meaning of life contained in Monty Python's The Meaning of Life:

*Unionize your workplace, alternatively turn it into a pirate ship and take to the high seas. It'll piss off management either way.

*Question everything.

*Look at what you think you know from a different perspective.

*The pursuit of profit at all costs can and will ruin the meaning of any work and also make you worse at it.

*Gender roles are not necessarily assigned at birth.

*The Catholic church is not well.

"God has blessed us so much I can't afford to feed you all any longer."

*Just because you're allowed doesn't mean you should.

*You should not, and will not, die to "keep China British."

*God has many ways to cook you to death, if He wants to.

*Straight sex is so damn boring.

*Don't just stampede towards the clitoris, Watson.

*Sport, like sex, only works between equal parties. Any other way and you invite horror and depravity. (That kid is definitely dead and the upperclassmen are just stomping on him anyway.)

*Actually, getting murdered playing rugby against adults two or three times your size is an excellent way to prepare you for fighting in a war.

*Even a good captain will be hated by their subordinates. This is the burden of command.

"We'll always need an army, and may God strike me down were it to be otherwise." *is immediately struck down by literal the hand of God*

*A fighting force is better served by a single soldier who actually wants to be there than twenty men who doesn't.

*There's a fine line between keeping one's cool in a heated situation and acting like you're on a bloody different planet when people are dying in front of you.

There are less than 4500 wild tigers left in the world. The "A tiger? In Africa?!" bit is less of a joke every year.

*In less than surprising news, killing people is bad for you. (It turns out, for psychologically healthy people, doing violence really hurts you as much as the victim.)

*Where is that fish?

*Theme restaurants could do with a bit of randomly mixed themes.

*Don't be afraid to ask the most idiotic questions about things you don't understand. That's how we learn.

*Oh ho it's the meaning of liver donation I get it now.

*The Galaxy Song is fun and all but don't give in to misanthropy.

*Matter is energy, the human soul grows with care and attention, and people aren't wearing enough hats.

*Actually, the movie makes a staggering point here and buries it with distracting nonsense jokes, while also making the point that we get sidetracked from self-actualization by distracting nonsense jokes. It's a point sandwich with joke filling.

Isn't it awfully nice to have a penis? Shout out to happy penis havers, though I'm not one myself.

*M Creosote shows us that single-minded devotion to one's mission in life (eating an entire upscale French restaurant in one sitting, for example) will leave you unhappy and alone.

*Dunk antisemites in buckets of vomit.

*Gaston, the middle aged waiter, delivers a coherent personal philosophy as he walks us to the cottage where he was born. The significance of this cannot be overestimated. He decided to be a waiter, you see. Because he believes in something. It's a simple belief of giving, of loving people and bringing them joy. But be believes it with all his heart and he'll fight for the right to live the life he chose.

*If you have to die, but can choose the manner of your execution, try being hounded to death by naked women.

*See the world in a grain of sand, or a maple leaf as it were.

*Terry Pratchett was a great man and a great writer, but he's wrong about one thing: Death is relative. No, no, you can't argue away Death or shoot him, but he is subject to the laws of relativity. Consider the stars in the sky; at least one star that's visible to the naked eye I hear may be dead right now - it's 500 light years away and they think it may go supernova at any point within 500 years from now. But here, locally, the star still lives; there's no possible reality where it's gone until the light of its explosion reaches us.

*Heaven is a fantastically cheesy musical theater performance with angel santa claus strippers and a lead singer you just want to punch. Clearly we need to build something better here on Earth.

*Be nice, read books, take a walk sometimes, and try to live together in peace and harmony with people of all creeds and nations. Obviously.

*[The producers] hope that other fish will follow [the example of the movie] so that, in future, fish all over the world will live together in harmony and understanding, and put aside their petty differences, stop hunting and eating each other and live for a brighter, better future for all fish and those who love them. Yes, clearly this is about fish.

[groovyfrog420]

Finished the show, time for a mini theory. (keep in mind that it's late and I'm in no way a poet. just letting the brainrot out of da brain)

Scarab's Voice and what it could mean for possible future character development

long post be warned. DOES contain spoilers!

I had a weird feeling about his human design.

No, not because he doesn't look like a hot magazine-cover model, but because it's a completely different vibe than what his voice & personality have been giving off so far. Why would Scarab choose to present himself as a more scrawny-looking weird little guy, instead of someone who looks perfect, strong, and exhibits fear and respect just from one look at his face? (this isn't a roast I swear just stay with me on this one)

Well, maybe he didn't.

His voice is so grandiose and full of self-confidence, all high and mighty like he owns the world. Even from character design perspective, his human form just doesn't match this vibe. When I saw his human face, I've expected a matching voice, fit for a scrawny character like that, not a bossy boasting man.

Except he does have a scratchy weird voice too

We only get to hear it a few times - mostly, in ep 9 from his little bug-selves, or in the finale, when his mask fully comes off, or during the final fight in more feral, buggier form.

All moments when he's completely out of his depth or loses all self-control.

(Here, around the 6th minute of the episode, he's even more distressed because of losing hold on the crystal. You can hear the difference from his usual voice a bit clearer at this point)

So, here's my mini crack-theory - Scarab fakes his voice.

Or, at the very least, has trained himself to make it sound like that.

Scarab hides a lot of stuff. His face, behind a literal mask, for once. That in itself could be symbolism that there's more to this guy than what meets the eye.

We've got a good look at his obsession with rules and control already. Everything has to be perfect, has to work exactly as expected, as planned. If it doesn't, it must be changed. So, if he himself doesn't meet this standard in his eyes? Well, he'd change that too. He'd make himself fit his standards of perfection, mold himself into a person that's as rule-abiding as possible. Even if that doesn't bring him happiness and he's stuck always chasing smth he can't get, even if everyone hates him for it, it must be the right way, right?

There's also of course, the red-blue dynamic - both his human form and the new shape he has in 2D-dimension are blue and not red as his outer shell. An interesting pattern, as many people have pointed out already.

I don't feel super confident in getting into that part, but, I think it can connect to my previous point - this little guy has layers. They're better reflective of who he is on the inside. That's why neither of those forms is super scary or menacing, softer at the edges.

And I really think that's why his 'punishment' is perfect. Yes, he's stuck with the one guy he hates the most, but it's also the one guy who can show him that following the rules isn't always needed. Therapy by exposure, and all that. Hopefully, that will help him open up and be more honest to himself as well.

TLDR: I theorize that because of Scarab's obsession with rules, he forces himself into brackets and roles he can't find happiness in. He's got a lot of potential for character development if he manages to work this out (likely with the help of Prismo) and accept himself as he is.

I believe that this lil guy WILL be redeemed. Give him time, he's just warming up. He just needs to come out his shell more.

...get it?

ok I'll go

[victoriadallonfan]

I had this whole thing written out but it's honestly not worth getting into all the weeds. I'll try to keep it short.

I do apologize for phrasing, but it's like someone getting punched, another person saying they got stabbed, and then that person saying you're "trying to justify what the 'stabber' did" when you say it's not stabbing. So you up try to head that off by saying that punching is still *not good* but it just doesn't help.

You are the one saying "Closure" means "rape". I mean, I guess I can see how you could interpret it that way. But that's in no way explicitly stated anywhere in Worm (never managed to finish Ward and Worm is where you are claiming the rape was stated). I personally interpret it as being able to openly express her feelings without being met with disgust/getting to hear Victoria say she returns those feelings (obviously while knowing it's not real, but just getting to hear her say it)/getting a hug/saying goodbye. And that her "break" was just to have Victoria hug her/reassure her again.

And hey, it's fine if you interpret it the way you do. But people who don't aren't "rape deniers" or "canon ignorers". They just don't read it that way /shrug

It's completely possible to interpret what happened as not rape, but still very bad, and think that Victoria didn't deserve it (i.e. not demonizing her).

See, I feel that you might misremembering what went down with Amy. I made a big post about it here on the Victoria and Amy Timeline.

To summarize the events:

- Amy mind rapes Victoria into loving/being attracted to her

- 4 days later, Amy paralyzes and operates on Victoria without her consent

- Amy mind controls and kidnaps Victoria, refusing to undo the mind rape despite TT, Taylor, and Regent telling her to do so (TT even mentions that Amy’s doing this for her own selfish desires)

- Amy creates the cocoon shaped in Victoria image using stray animals, the cocoon healing Victoria in Arcadia.

- Amy tells Jack she’ll do whatever she wants to Victoria, in order to “trick him” into leaving

- Amy heals Taylor and refuses to remove the mind rape from Victoria, with Taylor realizing that Amy is going to do something bad, but she has to chase after Jack

- Amy kidnaps Victoria again and takes her to an abandoned home, so no one can find them

- 3ish days pass before Carol and Sarah are told by TT where Amy and Victoria are. Amy admits to Carol that Victoria was just “lying there” (remember, the pod was what was healing her, not Amy), and Amy realized she really could do what she told Jack.

- Amy then admits to using Victoria for “closure” and that she would wipe Victoria’s memories of what she did, so Victoria wouldn’t have to remember what that “closure” entailed.

- She also explains that it was during this “closure” that she would add things to Victoria, then go to change her back to normal, then take “breaks” to use Victoria again to make more changes to Victoria, and then repeat for several days

Even without Ward, it’s really clear that Amy used Victoria as a sex doll once the healing pod fixed her up.

Why do you think Victoria has so many hands? So many heads and faces? Multiple sets of tits and vaginas?

Do you really think Amy needed Victoria to have 4 pairs of tits and 3 vaginas to get Victoria to “hug” and say “I love you” (which is still molestation btw)?

Why do you think Amy not once fixed Victoria mind rape, but had no issue mind controlling her and altering Victoria’s memories to suit Amy’s needs?

Amy’s closure was to turn Victoria into her own person toy, a living fantasy, and it’s a scenario we see play out in Ward proper. Where Victoria is forced to watch herself from the perspective of a different head as Amy molests her.

Anything else is just denial, unfortunately.

[butchpeace]

love ur blog! i'm curious to read what you have to say about circumstances where transsexualism exists without transgenderism or vice versa--for example, a butch woman who takes testosterone (making her cisgender and transsexual), or a butch who identifies as a trans man but has no intention of medical transition (making him transgender and cissexual). do you believe that there's any merit in distinguishing these people from transgender transsexuals?

Thanks for reading, and for being open to hearing my viewpoint!

Long answer: While I have many trans friends, and I respect their identities and pronouns, I found myself in a position where I can no longer support medical transition. Because I believe medical transition to be inherently harmful to the body, due to my own experience and the experiences of many others, I don’t believe that transsexualism really exists. How can something harmful to the body, which only became widely available 10 years ago, be the only possible way of dealing with our issues?

I do believe that gender dysphoria exists - I had it my whole life until relatively recently. But I don’t believe that dysphoria is a life sentence, and I don’t believe that the proper treatment for those feelings is to medicalize us.

I believe the proper treatment is to understand the root cause of the diverse group of feelings that we lump under the category of “dysphoria”, and to manage them with options like therapy, feminist education and self-acceptance work, and alternative methods such as meditation and yoga.

So yeah, after 10 years of medicalization and being an active member of the trans community, I don’t believe there is any real difference between butches who take T to become more masculine and “true transsexuals”, other than the mindset you come at it from. I’m against all of it from a medical perspective, and from what I’ve learned so far, I anticipate the medical community will be catching up to the harms of this treatment and making big changes within the decade.

[tiredmoonslut]

The fish wives are fine! Either that ending did not happen or it was all a planned thing for everyone to get stuck in THEIR nets. Whatever. Those are the only 2 options.

Still in all seriousness it was a planned thing between Moiraine and Siuan IMO for too many reasons. The delusion is real

Oh I have no doubt they'll be alright, nonny! Rafe Judkins is smart enough to know that if he was going to canonize Siuanraine, we wouldn't accept its mishandling. We're gonna be fine.

Personally though I do think that conflict was real, not planned. Of course, I do love the idea of them orchestrating a fake falling out! But it just doesn't peg me as something that wins them anything.

I think Siuan is so used to her and Moiraine being in agreement about how to handle the Dragon prophecies that she truly didn't expect for Moiraine to go rogue. The way I see it, Siuan sees two things: for one, Mo has been stilled. That is agony no matter how you slice it, and she's deadset on taking as much of the Dragon burden off of Moiraine's shoulders as she can so Mo has more of a chance to heal (remember, there's been a whopping two Aes Sedai who ever managed not to kill themselves after being stilled in the Tower's known history).

Secondly, she sees that the time of the Last Battle draws near, and Moiraine has been withholding information for the past six months and also very pointedly not tried to prepare Rand at all. Siuan is the Amyrlin Seat. She's made of strategy, and that is a bad one, whether it was her lover's choice or not. I think Siuan was certain that if she made a point of taking the burden off Moiraine's shoulders, she'd be met with acquiescence---perhaps even appreciation.

Watching the episode, I took Siuan's reaction to Rand having been released to be one of complete shock. I'm sure she expected stubbornness, but not outright double-crossing. That's why she made a point of chasing after them alone, with no guard. She felt betrayed.

Then she runs in to see Moiraine channeling. I'm sure she was floored, and this is why I think the theory that she suspected Moiraine of joining the Dark to hold weight. I mean, how bizarre from her perspective. Six months of correspondence, and Rand hasn't been trained even a little, and this alleged stilling was kept from her completely until Lan tattle-taled. That's outrageous, especially since it doesn't seem like Moiraine has ever been that dishonest with her before. And now it was apparently a complete lie? It shouldn't be possible. Unless of course Moiraine made an oath that supersedes her previous ones...

Which is why she forced her to close the Waygate. Twas a test. Once Moiraine obeys, you can see just how much Siuan regretted doing it. Her eyes well up immediately, like all she wants to do is apologize. Had Lanfear not walked in that very second, I'm sure she would have.

So, we'll just have to see how Siuan feels once she hears about the events of Falme, that Ishamael is dead, and that Alanna and Verin were Mo's accomplices. Hopefully she reacts well, or at least well enough to still want to talk it out with Moiraine when she gets the chance---and I think she will. This has been the burden that's ruined their lives for 20 years. She's not just gonna let that go.

So yeah, we'll be okay. We're just gonna need some medicine, perhaps an emergency operation. 😭

[xerith-42]

vylad headcanonssss?

You guys are really pushing me to make more of these (this is not a problem)

If it wasn't obvious I've been letting some ideas for my new rewrite to leak out into some of my posts here, but this is where I switch things up and make this distinctly mcd Vylad headcanons for one simple reason:

Vylad Ro'maeve of Ru'aun is Aromantic Asexual. You cannot change my mind on this.

Also Vylad uses he/they pronouns (I feel like we as a fandom can agree on this)

Vylad's favorite animal is a hawk or a mouse

While he doesn't know for sure, Vylad is fairly confident he knows who killed them. He learns to come to terms with the fact that vengeance simply isn't possible and therefore not worth going after. And by the time it is possible, he's spent so long not thinking of it that it really just isn't an interest anymore.

Canonically Vylad can play the ocarina and I will never not be upset that we weren't given more of this. Aaron forces everyone to take a day off from building the settlement, and yet we don't see Vylad sitting in a tree playing his ocarina.

He got it and theoretically learned to play it from his mother, so why don't we ever see the two of them playing it together, or just Vylad playing a song for their mother? (this is a whole thing I could go into abt mcd characters and instruments)

Needless to say Vylad isn't particularly fond of verbal forms of expression, but I can totally see him playing different songs or melodies based on different moods or feelings. Aph asks him what song he's playing and Vylad will very honestly answer her or anyone who asks. "It was a lullaby my mother taught me. I worry about her sometimes, but this song always reminds me of when she looked happiest."

Vylad is a mama's boy.

Vylad doesn't really like talking much, he tends to prefer lingering in the background and not really saying much when he's in the foreground. The only exception to this is Garroth after he comes back from the Irene Dimension. Vylad has missed his brother so much, they have spent so much time worrying about him and trying to find a way to bring him back, that once he actually has Garroth around, it's honestly like he's been brought back to life a bit.

It's slow and steady, but Garroth manages to get his brother out of their shell. Vylad doesn't talk to many people, but he talks to Garroth a LOT, like constantly. People don't believe it until they hear/see it because Vylad can literally go back and forth with Garroth about literally whatever until the end of time. Like if you asked Vylad what his ideal life would be, it would just be to grab like five people and get to spend the rest of his life having long conversations with them.

Vylad really likes talking to the right people. He's just gotten so good at closing people off it's hard to show the kind of vulnerability he's capable of in said talks. I said five people but it would probably just be Garroth, Aph, and Laurance. Probably his mother, maybe Hyria, but that's it. Vylad keeps most people at arms length or further, but he's willing to open up to them because they understand him on some level most people can't.

Irene help me I just want to write scenes of Vylad talking to people now. Vylad has been around for so long, seen so much, and has some very fascinating perspective on life and the fratility of the human spirit. I know he's not one of Vylad's people, but I would love to just listen to him and Vincent talk. Throw Laurance in there and you have a podcast I will literally not stop listening to.

[beaisdifferent]

ADHD: How Did I know?

About a year ago now, I was in my kitchen with my then boyfriend.  I don’t remember what we were talking about as I cooked dinner, just that we were talking as we always did, with me jumping between points of conversation that were very obviously connected for me, but that he needed a roadmap to follow. 

Eventually he stopped me.  “Have you ever considered you have ADHD?”

I laughed and brushed him off.  Obviously I didn’t have ADHD.  I could sometimes sit still doing the same thing for hours.  In fact sometimes it was like I couldn’t do anything else!  And I got good grades in school.  So obviously I didn’t have ADHD.

Those two factors were literally my only defense against the idea.  If anything, it was probably just my probably-autism.  Later that week I brought the conversation up with my therapist, probably rolling my eyes like I knew what I was talking about.  She frowned thoughtfully, and I watched her think back on all our sessions.  Pshh, come on.  I could hear my father in the back of my mind, everyone has ADHD these days, nobody had it when I was a kid, maybe they need a good spanking to sit still, its just a way to make money by drugging up kids.  Then her voice cut overtop my dad’s.  “We should look into this.”  She sent me a few forms, pre-assessment questionnaires to determine if getting officially tested would be worth it.

I read the questions for ADHD.

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

UH OH.

It’s all very me.

It had already figured I had autism spectrum disorder for a while, did I actually have ADHD?  Did I have both?  Was that even possible?

It had me nervous and curious, so I went deep diving.  I read on the experiences of people with ADHD, particularly adult women, and found discomforting relatability.  Then it became comforting relatability.  Could it be that all these things I hate about myself are actually symptoms of some funky wiring in my brain rather than personality flaws?  I also learned that while the topic is still being researched (thank goodness, don’t ever let the research stop), it is very possible to have both ADHD and autism.  It’s not even that uncommon.

So, I went and officially got tested, and received Autism and ADHD stamp of authenticity.

I was a month away from turning twenty-four, finally given an answer an answer to a lifetime of questions.  Questions I had stopped asking.  Questions like, why is it so hard to make friends?  Why can’t I remember to do simple things?  Why does life seem so overwhelming for me when everyone else seems to manage it just fine?  Why do my emotions feel so overwhelming and uncontrollable.  Why do I feel paralyzed in the face of things I know I can do?  I had accepted the answer I was given by people who didn’t know any better than I did.  I was lazy, clearly didn’t care, was just anxious, etc., etc., bullshit.

I’ve spent a lot of time this year looking back on my life, reframing things with this new understanding.  I had a label, I had an answer, I had a community.  I was neurodivergent.  I connected with a friend with ADHD and found we had even more in common than I thought we did.  So many things that had been a target of self-loathing for me were now a target of understanding, things that could be helped with the right supports in place.

It changed everything.  And it has continued to change everything.  And that super smart boyfriend became my super smart husband a few weeks ago, so the changes have been for the better.

Visit my blog at beaisdifferent.wordpress.com for a neurodivergent perspective every Tuesday at 9:00 am EST.