#i will never look androgynous the way i want. i will forever hate the way i look in pants

[girlscience]

there really is nothing like clothes shopping to make you have a breakdown in a store

#(okay i'm exaggerating a bit. i didn't actually have a breakdown but i got very close to tears) #i fucking hate finding clothes. nothing else makes me realize how much i will never look the way i want to #and how i will always be unhappy in my body and nothing i can do will ever change that #clothes will never fit me the way i want them to because they don't make them to fit people with my body that way #and my body is never going to change #i will never look androgynous the way i want. i will forever hate the way i look in pants #and it will never be different no matter what i do

[dnf-fic-recs]

Hello, I'm wondering if there are any fic recommendations were when Dream and George start dating and Dream gets shy when it comes to physical touch, like he's clingy but hesitant to hug George from behind or give him kisses even if only on the cheek, he still does it, but he's nervous about it so George kind of leads the touches most of the time and every time Dream's brain just turns into mush and he melts against him every time like the lovesick fool he is.

To make a long story short Dream is so smitten that he is shy about it when it comes to touch, sorry if this ask is kind of nonsensical.

Have a nice day/evening/night.

i had to make it a little less specific, so i have some clingier george ones for you! i tried to get some of dream being surprised or a little unused to it :)

After all, tails don't lie by Amet_ombes

George, as a cat hybrid, loved the attention; that is in their biology. But showing affection through touch and sometimes even in front of Sapnap was new. People expect such behavior from dog hybrids or canines in general. Dream, in contrast with Sapnap, respected everyone's personal space. Sometimes it would seem as if he is avoiding touch at every cost.

 

George was different.

George is surprisingly a touchy catboy and Dream is ignoring the obvious feelings.

Hold On to Me by crabnap - CW Vomiting

Dream hated how helpless he felt, watching his best friend throw up right in front of him and not knowing if he was allowed to touch him. Did George want him here at all?

He got his answer when George reached for him, blind hands in his shirt, face still in the toilet. “Please.” The word echoed shaky, vulnerable, completely stripped of dignity off the white porcelain.

There was no way Dream was denying him when he asked like that.

George gets sick and Dream does anything he can to make him feel better, all while trying not to expose his ridiculously massive crush. The overworked college student sick fic you've all been waiting for.

i want to love you (but i don't know how) by Shadowlit

"And it’s fine. Really, it’s fine. Dream’s used to it. To the silence when he gets home, to the heavy cold he feels wandering his empty apartment before he logs on and hears his friends’ voices echo from the speakers. It’s uncomfortable, but he’s used to it.

So he buries himself in editing and videos and his friends and Minecraft until he forgets the way it feels to touch and be touched gently, until he forgets the ache and the cold that the Florida heat can’t reach. "

Or: Dream gets a hug and his world shifts on its axis.

androgyne myth by nervouswaltz

“I love you,” Dream whispers below the hum of the city. “I love you, and I want you forever and it is going to kill me one day and I am going to welcome it but right now,” he takes a heaving sigh and exhales into the darkness of the room. “Right now, there are five feet between us, I checked. And a nightstand. And we’re in these two beds and my bed at home is better and you know that, because you’ve slept in it. And I’ve slept in it. But we’ve never slept in it together and I can’t do this anymore.”

The night says nothing back.

Dream and George share a hotel room. Dream goes insane.

myth isnt exactly what ur looking for but it has a similar kind of desire-for-contact and gnf just going K while dre goes crazy

#dreamnotfound #dnf #dreamnotfound fic recs #dnf fic recs #dnf fics #dreamnotfound fics #asks #anon #recommended by holiday #established relationship fics #fluff fics

[lunajtherealone]

Remember this .... when you still wanted to try?? So many lies you told, you were already with her then ... ugh

icefunmn

lunajsstuff

Apr 30

feral-balladFollow

Mar 31

Plato made up a story about love once. Trying as we all do to assign meaning to the longing of blood and muscle. He said that Before the world was the world each person was two people connected as one, sharing the churning bile of organs, which is to say whole. / In this ancient and blooming place, longing did not exist until Zeus grew jealous, splitting each person in half with a blade of lightning, and that was the birth of loneliness and fucking and longing and birth. / This is how we learned to search for each other, to clatter our bodies back into a single thing. / I like to imagine us like this, an androgynous animal feared by God itself. It explains why I miss you like a limb. It explains this hopeless longing I’ve got working through my blood. / At work, I close my eyes, imagine each way we could push ourselves together in defiance of lightning, demanding the impossible.

Clementine Von Radics, from In A Dream You Saw A Way To Survive; “The poet refuses to see what can be plainly seen”

lunajsstuff

Apr 30

Innamoratu: Two people who were destined to be together, but forever kept apart by the gods, constantly plagued in each lifetime to search for their beloved other half, find them, and lose them , either by fate, or self sabotage.....

icefunmnFollow

Apr 30

Lunajsstuff :

Fate is just another word for give up. When someone is looking for an excuse they use words like fate , or it will be what it will be, they have already given up before the day started.

I very rare breed are out there. You never tell someone your this because your dangerous and what people don’t like they get rid of. This breed will never use them word.when the odd are against them. When they been-kick down and chew up , they still get back up . They find a way , they never stop trying or looking. They may look that way. When they are resting or look like they walk away. But I there core. That drives them. It’s still pounding away. Still. Focus on it.

If two people want to be together the it’s simply do just that , don’t like other judge or say some shit thing . They push even harder you can’t tell this type of person what to do or any thjng. You find your other half. Be proud life to short to hold anger and hate. Pain of regret hurts more then any thing else because you wonder but you you give it all you have you can do any thing

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hi, I've never done this before but I was wondering of you could do a scenario where the boys (separate) meet your parents and/or family for the first time. (I love your blog btw, you make my days more enjoyable

God this ask is so freaking cute. Pardon any spelling errors/grammar mistakes cause I did this on my phone at 5:30 in the morning lmao. Also, I'm going by the ~average~ nuclear family of one mom and one dad (even if my own household isn't like that lmao)

The Lost Boys x Meeting the Parents

David

Will pretend that he doesn't care if your family likes him or not, but he actually Does™

He's not gonna change his look or anything for your parents. He just doesn't want them to be against him or to be an obstacle in any way that would prevent you from seeing him. Your parents not liking him could be a real pain in the ass, and you remind him of that right before the two of you leave. It's basically a reminder to be on his best behavior

It takes forever to actually convince him to meet them because he's kinda like- who needs parents when you're a vampire ahahaha. Plus the only parent he has to base judgement on is Max so he doesn't have high expectations.

But if your parents do like him,,,,and your dad calls him son? Oh god daddy issues have been activated

Your dad put a hand on his shoulder and complimented his hair what do you mean he can't move in???? (If you tell the others they will make jokes that David wants to fuck your dad I'm sorry)

David is a little bit more wary of your mom, but he's still nicer to her than he would be to Max. Basically, David just tones down being a dick and that's it. He's a pretty charming guy when he wants to be so he'd probably 8/10 get your parents approval. Especially if David keeps up the whole "gentleman" thing since he's from like the late 1800s.

Will most likely end up on a first name basis with your parents by the end of the night

Dwayne

He thinks meeting the parents is important, not because he wants their approval, but because it's a big step in the relationship. It's just solidifying what you currently have and Dwayne is cool with that

Didn't really take much convincing. You just invited him to dinner one night and he just goes "Cool."

Harder to convince him to wear a shirt though. This will take forever, rip your parents but Dwayne likes having his tiddies out. Best you can do is get him to wear a wife beater that shows just a little bit too much side-boob y'know the ones I'm talking about

Dwayne just had a way,,,with parents. He starts off very polite with a, "Hello Mr and Mrs. _____" and you stand to the side as your parents welcome him in like he's always been there. It's been five minutes and your mom is already insisting on him calling her by her first name. He's not a talker but he does put in a little bit more effort around your folks. Doesn't really matter either way though cause your parents already love him

You pull him aside to ask him if he pulled any mind tricks on them but he's just like, "Nah."

Moms love Dwayne. I'm sorry but they do. He eats a lot and he's not picky so once he's cleared his second plate your mom is just fawning over how he's a "big growing boy" and even if Dwayne hasn't aged a day in like nearly a century he still plays into it. Your dad will ask him questions and the two of them talk about Car Stuff™

Dwayne will 10/10 steal your parents sorry I don't make the rules they're his parents now

Marko

Has absolutely no will or desire to meet your parents I'm sorry. Will probably avoid the meeting for as long as possible. It's not until you're genuinely starting to get pissed at him that he'll groan for a solid minute before saying, "Fine. Fucking fine."

Marko will Not™ change for the meeting. The crop top stays on. So do the leather chaps. It's not dinner attire but Marko makes a point to not changr

Marko acts this way because he's the most androgynous and he's the least likely to be accepted by 80s standards rip. He's just prepping to be hated, even if you swear that your parents won't be assholes

Marko is welcomed into your home and is,,,,, uncomfortable. He tries to make small talk but it's hard to filter out all the curse words he says on a daily basis. He's the second quietest of the boys, so he just clams up whenever he feels like he's making an ass out of himself. Is mostly just overthinking so rip this vampire

Even if your parents like him, it's hard for him to accept that. He just assumes that they won't because he's grown used to Max for like the past century. Is weirdly??? Liked by one parent??? And not the other??? (Most likely your dad because Masculinity™)

May not be popular with your parents but if you have any pets- ohhoHO

Will lay on the floor with a furry friend or will stare inside the cage of your family pet. Marko may not be good with parents but he just Gets™ animals

Solid 7/10 of whether or not your parents like him cause they just think that he's "interesting", but will 10/10 steal your dogs love and affection

Paul

Most excited to meet your parents and will meet them the earliest out of all the boys

There's no convincing him to change any aspect of his outfit, even the mesh shirt so- don't even ask because Paul will just find a way to turn it into flirting ("trying to get me out of my clothes, babe?")

Honestly, you're gonna have to warn your parents more than you're gonna have to warn Paul

Paul is the type to immediately call your parents mom and dad. Like, they open the door and he hugs both of them like they're his very own parents. Is just as affectionate with your parents as he is with everyone else i.e. kisses your mom's cheek and gives your dad friendly pats on the back. Let's just say your parents are,,,,Bewildered™ but oddly charmed

Paul is like a walking tornado and let's just say that, while Paul is very friendly, your parents aren't super impressed by how "lax" he is. Basically, Paul screams sex, drugs, and rock and roll and this was the 80s parents worst nightmare

He somehow eats three plates of food and your parents are just in a constant state of confusion. Paul is as polite as he can be and thanks your mom, might even offer to help wash the dishes, and has started to affectionately call your dad "pops" before the night is over

Paul thinks the night went great and really likes your parents but there's a 5/10 chance that they actually like him back. Paul promises to come back soon and somehow you know he isn't kidding

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #the lost boys david #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys marko #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #marko the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

[dianapana]

SH Day 2: Fashion Statement

Modern AU, OOC

@sasuhinamonth

Bullies exist everywhere you look, in school, at work, on the street and most of all, on the internet. Countless bullies hide behind the anonymity the internet provides them in order to bring down strangers for no apparent reason. But there is always a reason, jealousy, an inferiority complex, a superiority complex, or plain and simple the bully is a pile of trash and no one should call it a human being. One of the worst things one can do when being active on social media is read the comments, because no matter how many positive comments there are, one bad comment outweighs them all. Scrolling through my Instagram I see the perfect example of this issue. Hinata is barely an acquaintance, I have not seen her since middle school almost a decade ago, she’s not active on any social media, or at least she wasn’t until today. The picture in front of me brings back all of my past thoughts of her, how pretty her face looked, how refreshing and pleasant her lower voice tone was; out of most people I was aware of at the time, she was one of the least annoying. The only thing that bothered me at times was her meek demeanour, how easy she’s fold under the pressure of bullies; and it would appear that she had not changed in that particular category.

The picture was there, I liked it, I looked through the comments, I saw all the negative ones, I saw them misgendering her due to her short hair and baggy clothes, I saw them calling her names; and then there was nothing, because the picture no longer existed. Much like in school, the bully applied pressure on her, and she caved in on herself and chose to hide.

I wish I had taken a screenshot of the picture to post myself, but that would have been an invasion of privacy. She looked older and more mature, her hair was much shorter than in middle school, almost a buzz cut. She had always worn baggy clothes, but her style developed to streetwear, all in all, the picture was, in my opinion, a work of art. But as soon as it appeared, it disappeared. I can’t explain why it bothers me this much the fact that she took it down, but it just does.

I hate all the entitled fucks that think people own them anything. Females do not own them femininity, males don’t own them masculinity and gender non-conforming people don’t own them an androgynous appearance. Gender and fashion style are different issues, they can reflect each other or not. People use clothes for various reasons, as art, as means of expression, or they use them to hide. We talked about this during one of my courses in gender studies in university and it fucked with my brain how many people, young people that are supposably ‘woke’ heard that for the first time. I was shocked how many were unaware of things that I consider common sense.

I have the urge to reach out, assure her that the shit those incompetent fucks commented is the furthest thing from fact. Maybe I also feel guilt, because I was aware she was bullied in school and never helped, my apathy always made me so sure that it had nothing to do with me. It wasn’t my issue to fix, it wasn’t my battle to fight, and this isn’t either; but I’ve also learned to understand that being quiet might not be as hurtful as actively attacking the person, but it’s damn near close enough. So, I click on her blank profile and shoot her a short message. ‘the pic looked nice. U didn’t have to delete it just cuz some ppl don’t know what style is’

It was partly to comfort her, and partly to prove to myself that I’ve become better even in the slightest. I press the lock button on my phone and the screen turns black, I put it screen down on my bed and leave the room trying to fool myself and the universe that I don’t care if she replies or not.

I return to my work desk, continuing this charade, I am actively trying to not think about it, but the more I try not to think about it, the more I think about it. There is something about a 24-year-old Hinata looking the way she does, yet listening to haters, that just doesn’t sit well with me. I’m still in deep thought about the issue when my laptop dings, letting me know I received an email. I half expect it to be Hinata, but it’s work-related and my focus turns to that for the time being. Work keeps me busy for the remaining of the day, enough to push the whole issue out of my mind for real. In a blink of an eye over 9 hours have passed.

I wasn’t able to fully finish everything I wanted, due to some issues but I have to call it a day, since I worked overtime quite a lot. I go back to my bedroom and pick up my phone ready to order some delivery for the night when I see that Hinata responded.

“That was very thoughtful of you, thank you for the kind message.”

“I agree that I shouldn’t let myself be brought down, but it’s devastating in the moment.”

“I’ll try again.”

Her last message makes me click back on her profile to see that she reposted the picture with the caption saying ‘fuck you’. A sense of pride flows into my body, and I can’t fight the urge to comment as well, ‘fuck them all’. I go back to our little chat.

“Im glad u decided to post it again.”

I’m trying to formulate a compliment that doesn’t sound weird, I don’t feel like we are close enough for me to call her beautiful or pretty without it sounding like I am flirting, stunning sounds extreme, sexy and hot feel somewhat disgusting; yet all these five adjectives describe her, because she is beautiful, pretty, stunning, hot and sexy. I’m in the midst of this internal battle when I receive a reply.

“I am too. Thank you again”

I don’t feel like I deserve thanks, so I decide not to write back ‘you are welcome’, but I still want to compliment her so I click back to look at the picture, seeing whether having the picture in front of me will help. I’m lowkey annoyed when I get a notification that I have a new message from her, I am hell bound on finding a compliment and she is hell bound on stopping me. Either way, I click on the message, but upon reading it, my annoyance dies.

“I’m actually in Konoha for the first time in forever. I was thinking…if you maybe want to meet up? I’m here for a month, let me know if and when is a good time for you 😊”

Under normal circumstances, an invitation to ‘hang out’ from any former classmate be it elementary, middle or high school would annoy me further and I’d turn it down immediately. But for some reason, the idea of meeting Hinata after so many years, seeing what she is up to, interacting with her now as adults, makes me oddly enthusiastic. I reply before I can overthink the issue.

“Sure, we can meet, I’m free every Wednesday and throughout the weekend.”

Her reply is almost instant. “That’s perfect! See you Saturday” Reading her message makes me forget what day it is, so I have to look at my phone’s calendar; Saturday is the day after tomorrow, in less than 48hs I will see Hinata. My feelings are conflicted, they lay somewhere between nervousness, which is new, and giddiness, which is even newer. In order to calm myself, I do what I always do, set a goal. By Saturday I’ll have an appropriate compliment for the picture and her, it will have more impact if I say it face-to-face anyway, yes that’s the reason I want to see her, so I can feel as if I completed this little mission of mine, no other reason…

#sasuhinamonth #shmonth #sasuhina month #sasuhina #sasuhinafanfic #hinata hyuuga #hyuuga #susake uchiha #uchiha #dia story #diawrites #fanfic #day2

[sola-whumping]

Umbran: The New Master

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, treating a whumpee as a nonperson, nonhuman whumpee, fae whump, heavily conditioned whumpee, nonsexual nudity (taking care of wounds)

Word count: 3,306

Nox woke slowly, his senses returning one by one. The first thing he was aware of was the soft surrounding him and the gentle hand running through his hair. The second thing he was aware of was the soft feminine humming, it was gentle and soothing like a summer breeze. He listened to the melody for a while, getting lost in the sound. He didn’t want to wake quite yet and fought the awareness that threatened to come for him. There would be pain waiting for him when he woke, he was sure of it. The last thing he was aware of was the tightness of the bandages around his chest and throat and the pain they caused him. He gave a small whine of discomfort. His bandages were not so tight that he couldn’t breathe, but not so loose that they were useless. Eventually, he was dragged to consciousness. 

“Good morning, Umbran, are you awake?” The humming had stopped in favor of speaking. Nox opened his eyes, remembering what had happened the day before. He had been sold again. 

“’M ‘wake.” He felt heavy, as if he’d been drugged. He vaguely remembered being bitten and recalled that this was the vampire, Evangeline. Gabrial had warned him about her. He tried to sit up, only to be eased back onto the bed. 

“You are hurt. You will answer my questions and rest. Once I am satisfied, you may have a bath and a meal.” The way she said it sounded a lot like mercy, though he knew there would be a catch. For the bath he expected ice water and to be held under. That’s what a bath had meant to Gabrial. The meal would surely be laced, if not outright poisoned. He was never fed that easily. Immediately suspicious but unable to do anything about it, he agreed. 

“What are your name and pronouns? I want to make sure I received the right creature.” Nox figured it was likely that she knew umbrans didn’t have any gender binary. Instead, they were physically non-binary, and while some leaned towards male or female (he leaned male), it was much more common that they were androgynous or didn’t fit the human stereotype at all. It was generally polite to ask an Umbrans pronouns or call them ‘they’ or ‘it’ instead of guessing. He also figured that Gabrial had promised her something better than him. 

“N-ox,” he croaked. His throat was dry and burned when he spoke. As soon as he made noise, the vampire lifted him and placed him in a sitting-up position. She put a cup of sweetened water to his lips, gently urging him to drink. 

He was grateful for the water. He hadn’t had any since before he was shipped. She turned cruel as soon as he tried to drink, only giving him a small bit of water at a time and then keeping the rest out of reach. Eventually, slowly, he drank the whole cup. He wanted more water. He was so dehydrated that he felt like he couldn’t get enough. He tried to ask for more, to plead if he had to, but his throat felt like fire, and when he made noise, he coughed weakly. 

His struggles were soon rewarded with another cup, filled with the same sugar water as the last. The only difference was that this one was a bit cooler and he was a bit less desperate. He still swallowed it down as quickly as he was allowed. 

The vampire gently reminded him of the question after the glass was stolen away once more. “Nox, m-ale pronouns,” he rasped. His throat felt a little better. He felt a little better. 

“Are you hungry, Nox?” He faintly realized he was desperate enough to not care if any food given to him was laced. Gabrial, his seller, had only ever fed him after he passed out and woke up again or in the days before shipping. He was more than hungry: he was starved. He gave a weak whine. He knew if she was asking that then she either intended to taunt and starve him or feed him, and he preferred the latter. 

She seemed to take the whine as his response, and in the next moment, there was a spoonful of something that smelled heavenly in his face. It was potato soup. He used to love potato soup. He was grateful to be allowed to eat something warm when he hadn’t done anything to earn it yet.. Something that wasn’t moldy bread was a treat in itself. 

He tried to rush and comply before she had a chance to change her mind about feeding him, trying to make it easier and maybe even feed himself. He failed. He was still heavy and weak and exhausted. All he managed to do was lean forward and open his mouth. His attempt was pathetic. 

“Good boy, that’s it. Easy, darling.”  She praised and cooed at him while he struggled for each bite. When the bowl was almost empty, she helped him drink bit more water before letting him finish the bowl. “Very good!” She ran her fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp. He was too weak to lean into the touch, but he felt a happy warmth in his chest. 

He hadn’t been called “good” or praised often, if at all, with Gabrial. It was no secret that the umbran hated him. He was often used as a plaything to beat around and hurt, rather than treated like the pets that were trained and sold. They got to find a forever home while he was rented for a party or a beating for a night or to someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted a Pet or not. He shivered at the memories and tried to focus on what was happening in the present. 

“Alright, sweetheart, it’s bath time. We need to clean those wounds and get you washed up.” Evangeline spoke to him as if he was a child. “Liam, darling, if you could.”

Suddenly, someone big and tall left the wall where they had been leaning and approached the bed Nox had been laying on. He hadn’t noticed them until they had moved and that worried him, he must be more out of it than he thought. He panicked slightly and keened in distress when he felt an arm slip under his knees and another tighten across his shoulders. He was lifted effortlessly- like he was weightless. Once he was picked up and stabilized, he could identify the figure as a tall human male- at least... he thought it was a male. Humans were supposed to have physical features that showed their preferred gender, but he could never tell. Gender was a human construct anyway. It was much better to learn the person rather than assuming. 

They spoke softly to him and he could feel their deep voice rumbling in their chest. “Hello, little birdy. My name is Liam.” Their arms felt strong around him and Nox almost felt… safe, being carried like this.

Nox gave a shy “Hello.” He liked Liam’s voice. They sounded calming and friendly even though their strength scared him. 

Nox was carried to another room. This one was painted a light blue. There was a big bathtub and shower. It was large enough that his wings wouldn’t be squished- if he still had them. He didn’t get to see the other half of the room until he was undressed and lowered into the already filled tub. There was a white foam on the top of the water that he considered beautiful. The water felt lovely. It was so warm that the heat immediately seeped into his bones. 

When he glanced up, something squeaked in his face, startling him badly and making him chirp in surprise. “Awww, Noxie, it’s just a rubber duck,” his master cooed at him, handing him a bright yellow toy. It was plastic and didn’t look at all like a duck. He squeezed it and startled himself again when it made a squeak sound.. He looked up to see her amused. 

He noticed some of the bubbles had clung to his arm when he moved. Curious, he licked it. It did not taste good at all despite how appealing it looked. His tongue stayed poked out as he recoiled. He heard his master laugh, and suddenly there was a dry towel wiping away the bubbles. 

“There, there, little darling, nothing to be distressed over.” She soothed. “Now we know that we can’t eat bubbles.” She sounded amused so Nox chirped at her, happy to have attention. 

He surveyed the water. If he was held under and waterboarded, it would be better than the cold water, right? Or would the bubbles compensate and make it worse. He couldn’t decide, so he figured he would have to wait and see. 

His master must have seen his expression because she spoke in a calm, soothing voice. “That’s Birdy bubble bath, made specifically not to hurt your feathers.” That hadn’t been what he had been worrying over- in fact, he hadn’t considered that the soap could hurt him at all-- but it was good to know. In response, he carefully lowered himself into the warm water, assuming that’s what she wanted him to do.  

Evangeline shielded his eyes and filled a cup with water before pouring it over him carefully to wet his hair. Then he felt something cold in the center of his hair. When he chirped a question, his master was kind enough to answer. 

“Just some shampoo, darling. I know I’m not supposed to use things like this on your hair, but I have to get the blood out somehow.” Her hands were gentle, not pulling or yanking even a little. He was fully expecting to be forced under, but- it hadn’t happened yet. The anticipation of waiting was almost as bad as the drowning itself. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He stayed still and quiet as the thing in his hair turned into more bubbles. They started white like the ones around him but soon turned a light pink. He was ordered to tip his head back, and upon complying, another cup of water was poured in his hair. 

This is it, this is where I get pushed under. He was in the perfect position; she could hold him under almost effortlessly like this. Not that he would fight at all. He was a good pet, and if she wanted to drown him, he’d stay under just like she wanted. 

“Sit up for me, treasure. I have to use conditioner, and then we will use the scrub brush and dry you up.” She led him up as he followed her guidance. As she had said, she put conditioner in his hair, carding her fingers through it as she went. 

Nox had to fight to stay still and not lean into the slight scratch of his scalp. He did adore being pet- not that he got the chance often. After she carded through his hair a bit, it became silky and smooth, though he knew it would be soft and fluffy once dried. 

She had him lean back again, shushing his little whimper as water got in his ears. He didn’t want to be drowned and this would be her best chance to do it. After this, she wouldn’t have to convince him back down into the water. He held his breath, but she only washed the conditioner gently from his hair. 

When he was let up again, he almost gasped out of shock. “Good job, little Birdy, you did very well for me. Now, I need you to stay still so I can clean your wounds. We don’t want them getting infected, now do we?” She hummed. 

Nox flinched. Cleaning wounds usually meant alcohol and painful healing and bandages wrapped so tight he couldn’t breathe. Getting an infection was usually kinder than the prevention methods. 

He flinched again when something gentle touched his back. His master placed a hand on his chest to stop him from moving away as she gently washed away the blood, cooing and soothing his whimpers when he started to get nervous. 

He was waiting for it to hurt, waiting for the salt and vinegar and alcohol to be poured. He wasn’t used to the gentle cloth wiping away his blood- not when he was still scared that the gentle touch would turn rough and rub his back raw. 

Nox took a breath to steady himself. Fear wouldn’t change the outcome. Whatever his master wanted to happen would happen and nothing he can do would change that. He took comfort in the helplessness. Nothing he could do would change anything, He repeated the words to himself, taking another deep breath and letting himself relax. Whatever will happen will happen. He focused on the hand on his chest and the cloth on his back, slowly cleaning the blood away. He took comfort in the helplessness. 

The water was a light pink now and some of his wounds had started bleeding again. His master pressed a cloth against the freshly reopened wounds to stem the bleeding and held it there until it had mostly stopped. 

When all the blood was gone, he was washed with something that smelled sweet and then taken out of the tub, only to be swiftly wrapped up in a warm towel. It was a dark color so the blood didn’t stain and could be washed out later. The towel was also strangely warm. His master had placed it on an odd sideways stand that radiated heat while he had been in the bath, presumably for that purpose. Regardless, he was grateful..

Nox was dried up and his hair was brushed before he even knew what was happening. He was a bit shocked going from the warm water to the cold air so quickly. He started to tremble from the cold. “Shh, we’ll get you warmed up, just hold on,” his master cooed, connecting an odd-looking piece of plastic to the wall. 

She turned it on, causing warm air to blow from it as if it was magic, creating wind effortlessly. He flinched when the warm air was suddenly on his face, then in his hair, then on the feathers trailing down the back of his neck. The magic wind felt lovely. It was nice and warm, chasing away the cold. After a few minutes he stopped trembling, his hair no longer wet. 

His master brushed it out and ran a hand through the now fluffy black mixed with brown. Now that he was clean, they could see the colors in his hair blended and mixed, like a molted feather pattern rather than anything human. His master hummed at him, thinking he looked adorable with his head tilted curiously at the blow dryer. 

“Can you walk, or should Liam carry you again?” She asked as she gently coaxed him into putting on a fluffy hoodie and some sweatpants. She would worry about decorum later, right now, her pet was in need of comfort. She had some rather strong words for his seller. She had ordered a pet, not a slave, and had expected him to have been treated with kindness rather than shoved in a box and strangled. She shook her head. It was practically animal cruelty, and the creature was so sweet that she didn’t think he could have done anything to deserve it. 

Nox had gone from gazing at the magic wind creator to backing in the warm blanket and the feeling of being clean, only to be snapped out of it with the question. “I-I can try, master.” He sounded terrified, but he did his best to suppress it. He hadn’t been hurt yet, and he didn’t think he’d be cleaned and dressed only to get all bloody again. Surely they wanted him for something else first- at least, he hoped. He tried not to be scared; vampires could smell fear, and being scared always made hurt time worse. They liked when he was afraid. Sometimes Gabrial said that the only good things about him were his pretty tears and his pleading. 

She almost cooed at him, the poor dear was so skittish. He sounded terrified of picking wrong. “That’s alright, darling, you just focus on resting. I’ll give you your rules tomorrow and I’ll write an email to that trainer of yours. They’ve been far too cruel to you.” 

Nox immediately tensed up when he heard email. That meant he was getting sent back. He didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence, too caught up in what he did wrong to warrant being sent back. Why would they clean him if they didn’t want him? Unless- unless he had answered wrong. Maybe they wanted him to be cute and helpless and need help with walking. Surely he was hurt before arriving for a reason. “I- I meant only if I was allowed, master- I didn’t want to assume- I’ve been so arrogant-“ he kept cutting himself off, too anxious to finish his sentence. “I’m s-sorry, plea-please don’t send me back” he pleaded. If nothing else, he begged well and cried beautifully for his masters. He hoped desperately that somehow he would be allowed to stay. He felt hot tears slip down his cheeks, sparkling with pastel colors. He truly was a pretty crier. 

The shine of light caught Evangeline’s eye. “Oh, sweetheart, what happened? What’s wrong, darling?” She tipped his head up by his chin and wiped away his tears, hushing the distressed umbran. “What’s got you so upset?” 

“You- you’re going to send me back,” he cried, distressed. He had been told if he was sent back before the first week, he’d be whipped again- it hadn’t even been a day. He couldn’t take it again so soon. He wouldn’t be able to stand it and the pain was unbearable. He was terrified of what would happen, less scared of Gabrial but rather the consequences that came with it. 

Evangeline was startled by his terror. “Oh darling, sweet treasure, you’re not being sent back, love.” She took his face in her hands and wiped away his tears. “Now that you’re mine, I wouldn’t let you go so easily.” It sounded like a comfort, but it wasn’t worded like one. Nox didn’t know how to feel until he felt a hand making its way  through his soft hair. Slowly, he let himself calm down. 

“Maybe a choice this soon is too much for you. Would you like me to pick for you?” She sounded like she was talking to an upset three year old- and Nox responded like one, nodding slightly and giving a small “mhm” as he was pet. 

“That’s alright, darling.” She cooed, turning to Liam. “Could you carry him? The poor thing is distressed.” Liam obeyed, moving to pick Nox up effortlessly. 

He carried Nox to his room. Liam set Nox down on his side in a little nest made of blankets rather than on his back. Then he stepped back so Evangeline could see Nox. she sat in a chair by his bed and spoke softly to calm him.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, you’re safe. No one will hurt you here. I’m sure you’re very tired, so I’ll make this quick, alright, darling?” She grabbed a great big blanket and draped it over him. 

Nox had started to relax with the soft voice. He felt safer under the blanket. It was cozy and warm and made him feel secure. When he looked up at his new master, he was greeted with a kind smile and a kiss on the forehead. She trailed a hand gently down his face so he would close his eyes. 

“Night night, Noxie.” And just like that, he was out.

✨Masterlist✨

Taglist: @haro-whumps @poisoned-by-royalty @sunset-avenuer @wide-awake-but-comatose @whumpsy-daisies @misspelledwitch @string-of-broken-hearts @captainseconds @lave-whump @whumping-out-of-time

#nonhuman whumpee #dehumanization #pet whump #vampire caretaker #fae whumpee #pet whumpee #whump #umbran #whumpee #caretaking #kind whumper #Evangeline the vampire #nox has done nothing wrong #poor noxie #nox gets good things

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Androgynous Bill Clinton? You made me really sad about Boruto era Iruka. Can I please have some sweet and tender kakairu moments (HCs or otherwise) to cheer me up?

Ao3

It’s not uncommon to find Iruka standing in front of the mirror in the morning. He always talked about wanting to look good before heading out for the day.

“Not all of us can make messy hair look good, Kakashi.” He’d laugh every time Kakashi asked him why he was so worried about his looks. Why it mattered.

But today was different.

Today, Iruka wasn’t trying to fix his hair or smooth out his cloths perfectly.

Instead, he was focused on his face. Fingers tracing over Newley formed wrinkles and eyes scrunched up in a disapproving look.

“You’re fretting over nothing,” he smiled when Iruka glared at him through the mirror. “You have better things to worry about. Like all of the paperwork you have waiting for you at the academy.”

“You’re one to talk,” Iruka huffed. “The piles of paperwork you get as Hokage are three times as much as my own, and yet there’s not a wrinkle on your face.”

Touching the skin under his left eye, Kakashi chuckled fondly.

He didn’t make a habit out of looking at himself in the mirror. At least, not as often as Iruka did. It hadn’t occurred to him that he wasn’t aging the same as Iruka.

“I’m four years younger than you too,” Iruka huffed, pulling his attention back to the current crisis. “How is it that I’m the one aging worse?”

“You’re not aging worse,” Making his way to Iruka, Kakashi wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him tight against his body. “They’re wrinkles, Iruka. Not the end of the world.”

“Easy for you to say,” Iruka huffed. “I wish there was a way to turn back time. Get rid of all of these wrinkles.”

Thinking about it for a second, Kakashi extracted one arm from Iruka’s waist and ran his fingers up his back, chuckling when Iruka shivered under his touch.

“Aging is a good thing,” he spoke softly, pressing a tender kiss against Iruka’s left cheek. “It means you survived. You lived to see the future. It’s something a lot of people didn’t get.”

Obito.

Rin.

Minato-Sensei

Kushina

Asuma

The list went on and on. Names engraved into stone, forever remembered with young happy faced. Never to grow old and sport those wrinkles that Iruka complained about, or the sparkly grey hair that peppered Yamato’s hair.

“Every wrinkle is a reminder of that,” he continued, placing a kiss against Iruka’s neck this time. “A way your body can celebrate making it another year. Persevering. Living in a world that was so desperate to take as many of us as possible before we reached the age of 20.”

War, missions, the kyuubi’s attack. There were so many ways they could have died before today, but here they were.

Alive.

Together.

“Your wrinkles are beautiful, Iruka,” a small smile pulled at the corner of Iruka’s lips as his body relaxed into Kakashi’s. “They tell a story of the man who survived. The man who chose to love a child hated by his own village. to teach future generations to survive in a world that would try to destroy them. The man who would make the mistake of falling in love with Konoha’s most broken Shinobi.”

Iruka reached back and smacked him lightly in the shoulder, laughing when Kakashi simply responded by burying his face into his shoulder.

“You’re not broken, Kakashi,” his voice was full of fondness when he spoke again. “You’re just... special.”

“And your not aging ‘badly,” Kakashi fired back at him. “You’re aging perfectly. Here by my side.”

He can feel Iruka’s laughter vibrating against his face.

“I love you too, Kakashi.”

#Hatake Kakashi #Umino Iruka #Kakairu #soft boys hour #Sirry for reminding you that Boruto aged Iruka like an old prune #it was really rude of them to do #but it’s ok #cuz Kakashi loves it

[m-y-fandoms]

Korekiyo Shinguuji x reader fluff

Request: Hello!! ✨ Can i request something fluffy with Korekiyo (it would be nice if it would be with his pregame version (but original is okay, too))? Maybe he's having a sleepover with reader? Thank you in advance ✨ I really like your writing. Your oneshots and imagines make my day!!

Okay I’m gonna de pregame Korekiyo like you asked! So just a tall, lanky, beautiful man with a face mask. No incest and lipstick or killing game lmao. Also I’ll make him interested in anthropology but not the Ultimate/SHSL - Admin Kokichi

     “Are you sure? I really don’t want to impose…” your best friend, Korekiyo Shinguuji, stares at you from behind his black dust mask with a concerned gaze. His brows are furrowed deeply in the center.

     Korekiyo had gotten into a fight last night with his legal guardian, his older sister. Apparently, it had been a nasty one, unlike anything that’s happened between them before. It gotten so bad that she kicked him out of the house, with no word of when he would be allowed back in.

     “Yeah, of course, Kiyo! We are buds right? You’re my bestie! I can’t let my bestie just spend the. night alone in some hotel or sleep out in the street, now can I?”

     “But Y/N-”

     “Would you let me go sleep in the street if it were me?”

     “No, I suppose not, but-”

     “Then any argument you have in invalid. Case closed!” You closed your notebook on your desk haughtily as if to signify the end of the conversation. Korekiyo sighed, a slight blush on his cheeks as he placed his head down on his desk with anxiety.

     “You’re sure your parents are okay with it?” He mumbled, his black hair cascading down his back and shoulders and splaying out around his desk.

     “Well…”

     “Y/N…” he warned, scolding you like a mad mother.

     “They will be out of town this entire week. My dad always travels for work and my bitch of a stepmother has to stay attached to his hip like a leech at all times so-”

     “Then me staying over seems highly inappropriate. I’m sure your father would-”

      “Don’t make me guilt you into coming over. You’re my friend. You’re in need, and I love spending time with you! Please?” You reached over and pulled on the sleeve of his exorbitantly-priced sweater with eyes wide like a puppy dog.

     “You win this time, Y/N, but if your father finds out and becomes hostile toward me, I’m going to blame you…” he joked breathily, shaking his head at his stubborn best friend. He couldn’t help but give into your every want and desire, and you often pulled him into your schemes and plans. Well...he called them schemes, but he was just a goody-two-shoes, so anything not morally immaculate or life-enriching was considered foolish to him.

     “Then it’s settled.” You nearly squealed. You’d been waiting forever to have him over to your house, but he’d always declined. You’d known him for about a year, and still your humble abode had remained a mystery to him. He lived with his older sister who took care of him after their parents died, and she was extremely strict with him. He was never allowed to come over after school. You’d been to his place once or twice, but always with supervision and strictly for studying or some other educational activity. If you wanted to spend time after school, he had to lie to her about where he was going and why. Finally, you’d have your crush, your best friend over to your home.

     You had to admit to yourself, you did feel a little guilty about the whole situation. You were inviting him over for mainly selfish reasons. Yes, he was your best friend and you’d never let him go without a place to stay, but there was a large part of you that just wanted the boy you liked alone and to yourself for a night or...maybe two, if this first sleepover went well. Unfortunately though, your crush on him weighed heavily on you. You felt horrible for keeping this secret of your feelings from him, because he trusted you with everything. You were so scared that letting him know that you wanted to be more than friends would ruin the close bond you two had. Yeah...it would be way too awkward to remain friends afterward if he rejected your feelings.

~

     You both were let out after the last class of the day. Korekiyo walked you back home every single day since you’d become friends. At first, you found it a bit embarrassing, seeing as he was one of the kids from the rich neighborhoods around your school and you lived in a middle-class suburb a bit further away. Your fears about your class-difference with your best friend quickly faded as you got to know him. It became clear within weeks of hanging out that he would never judge you based on financial status, whether you lived in a trailer or a palace. That was just one of the many things you loved about him. And boy could you list a bunch…

     He was intelligent, a straight-A student and teacher’s pet. He had endless wisdom and knowledge of both practical things and useless trivia. He gave the best advice, and was so passionate about both his hobbies and yours. You could talk with him forever without the topic getting dry.

     His looks only enamored you to him further. He was tall and slender, with a perfectly built frame. Unlike your peers, he never got acne, and his complexion was pore-less and smooth like marble. He was pale, and his eyes stood out like flecks of gold against an ivory surface. His hair was healthier and more majestic than any female you knew. It was long, all the way down his back, and was the deepest, darkest shade of black with delicate bangs that fell across his forehead. He was absolutely gorgeous, but for some reason he still had self-esteem issues. For this reason, he always wore a dust mask over his mouth and nose that concealed his entire lower face. You could never understand why. Everyone at school either liked him or was jealous of him, and he had nothing to hide from anyone.

     He tried to lie to you at first, stating that he had a weaker constitution and because of frequent illness and hospital visits, his sister made him wear it, but once you got closer, he admitted he liked hiding his face and it made him feel comfortable. He customized his masks, or commissioned them to be specially made, having embroidery on them or patchwork and sometimes shelling out for the more expensive leather or designer masks...which you didn’t even know existed until you met him.

     You’d tried to convince him multiple times that he was beautiful and had nothing worth covering up, but he insisted upon wearing the masks in public at least. After knowing him for a few months, he let you see his bare face, but only at his house. And man...were you blown away. He almost...looked like a woman without the mask. But not? It was hard to explain. He was like some kind of gender-less, androgynous deity. He certainly had a strong, masculine brow and jaw, but then his lips were pert and plump and soft...soft-looking at least. They were gentle and the cupid’s bow dipped down low and rounded out. He had a wide, manly chest and slender waist, but long eyelashes. Large, veiny hands, but delicate skin and hair. He was absolutely heavenly to look at. That first time, when you’d seen him without his mask, you knew you were falling hard, and it made you sweat and your heart speed up. You were always so scared that you’d go too far or flirt by accident and he’d catch on and pull away from your friendship. It hadn’t happened yet, thankfully.

     It was raining, pouring down actually, and you two rushed down the street side by side, backpacks over your heads for protection from the downpour.

     “I apologize. As you know, I would usually have an umbrella but after she kicked me out last night, Miyadera has refused to let me go in and get anything that I didn’t have on my person at the time.” He was right, he was always prepared for any possibility, and his sister had now made that impossible.

     “It’s fine. I read the forecast this morning. I should’ve brought one as well,” you yelled, the rain pelting you both loudly. “We really should get a car or something. We’re seniors for fuck’s sake.” We? You didn’t know why you’d said that. He was his own person and probably could afford to buy you both cars with his own pocket money.

     Why did you even say that?

     “Ah, but walking is better exercise! It’s good for us! Besides...Miya won’t let me buy one... you know that. She practically controls all of my funds.”

     “Kiyo, you’re 18 now, get your damn money back!”

     “I’m scared…” he chuckled, only half-joking. It was true, you both had turned 18 recently and were about to graduate, but his sister still treated him like a little kid. Pretty ironic, as you wouldn’t kick a little kid out onto the street on their own.

     You passed his neighborhood, and he looked up at it longingly, raindrops substituting tears dripping down his cheeks. You could tell this was weighing on him. He loved his home, it was where he felt safe, and he hated fighting with his sister. She was a tough guardian, yes, but she gave up her life as a young woman in her prime to raise him.

     You were approaching your street now, both of you soaked down to your socks and hoping your bags didn’t also soak through. You both had many folders of homework and electronics inside that would all be ruined if so. You reached the curb, waiting to cross into your neighborhood, when an unruly teen in his beaten-up sedan screeched by, speeding past you two carelessly. You grabbed Korekiyo’s pale, cold hand, startled by the sudden volume of the law-breaking vehicle, and you both gasped as its wheels dug into the puddle in front of you just below the curb, and splashed onto you both like a tidal wave.

     “Fuckin’ asshole!” You yelled, charging forward after the car until a hand landed firmly on your shoulder, holding you back. You swore the rain would begin to evaporate and steam up into the air with how hot your skin was right now. You were royally pissed off.

     “Y/N if he’s the type of man to do that, what do you think talking to him would accomplish? Also, do you really think it’s possible to catch up to a speeding vehicle on foot?” Always the voice of reason. Always so calm and mature. You usually admired that in him, but right now you were seeing red, and his dismissal of your mood made you a bit ticked off at him as well.

     “But! I-gah! Aren’t you pissed? He just-”

     “Got us wet? We were already wet.”

     “But he did that on purpose!”

     “I know. Being irate changes nothing. Come on, once we are inside I’m sure we can get warm and dry off. I’ll keep you warm,” he smiled gently behind his mask, his eyes crinkling. Your cheeks would’ve heated up had your body not already been aflame from rage. You didn’t know why you were always so flustered when he was caring toward you or touched you or even mentioned touching you. You felt gross reveling in his platonic intimacy so much. It felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness. Yes, he could keep you warm once you got home. That was normal. You two always cuddled or held hands or leaned on each other. You were just that close. But it was all just casual, as friends...right?

     “Y-yeah. You can shower and I have some baggier, more comfortable clothes you can wear to hang out and sleep in. I think those should fit.” Korekiyo was taller than you and awfully skinny but you had some general sweatpants and oversized t-shirts that you were sure would fit anyone comfortably. You knew Korekiyo was used to the best and most expensive textiles and fashion, but for just hanging out at your house? It should be fine.

     “That’s very kind of you, thanks.” You were sure he was thinking: how could you put me in peasant-wear, but he would never say that aloud to you. “Why do you have that awful look on your face? Did I say something to offend you, Y/N?” He took your hand in his as you reached your front door and rummaged through your bag for your house keys, Korekiyo holding his phone’s flashlight over your bag to assist you.

     “No, I’m fine, Kiyo, why?” The keys jingled in the lock and you opened the door.

     “You know you can’t lie to me, Y/N,” his voice dropped into a low rumble, and you got chills down your spine. He was just so...sexy without even trying.

     “I just...sometimes I feel bad that you spend so much time with me or like I’m not enough, like the rest of our classmates who live in that bougie housing plan of yours...like with the clothes I’m giving you tonight. I feel like you deserve better or like...like what if those kids start to judge you one day because you’re hanging out with people that are beneath you.”

     “Y/N,” he stopped you, rolling his eyes as you both dropped your soaking bags and overcoats on the floor on your living room, “You’re my ‘bestie’ as you always say,” he chuckled dryly. “Do you really think I care what clothes I’m wearing when we are alone or what any of our peers think of my friendship with you? I know you know me far better than that… where is this all coming from? You’re unusually… emotional today,” he took your hand once again, leading you to the couch, but pausing before sitting down with you. “I do not wish to soak your couch. That shower would be nice about now,” you could see the pallor of his skin, coated like wet porcelain as he shook slightly.

     “Y-yes! Well okay, we have a bathroom in my parent’s master bedroom and one just in the hallway for guests and myself. You can take the master bedroom one, it’s much nicer,” you stuttered.

     “Why do you insist on babying me and always thinking I need pampered or require only the finer things in life? I was born wealthy, I don’t need all of those things. I think your house is wonderful,” he gestured around him, “just like you!” He encouraged you before letting you lead him upstairs. You ran to the bathroom closet then to your room, leaving him in the dark hallway alone for just a moment. He observed the photos on your wall, the paint, the carpet. Why would he judge you for any of this?

     You returned with the sleep-wear you promised and a fresh towel.

     “You can go ahead and use anything in there. My dad won’t even notice. B-but... if you don’t like his soaps and shampoos let me know. I have quite the skincare and bathing collection!” You were a little proud of that fact, and he smiled at the happiness finally leaking back into your attitude.

     “I’m sure it will all be fine. Thank you, Y/N.” He nodded, taking the towel and clothes from you before heading into your father’s room. You turned on your heel, fetching what you needed before taking a shower of your own in the hallway’s smaller bathroom.

~

     You sighed, but not in relief or relaxation, letting the hot water fall over you and loosen your tense muscles. You felt just so...fucked up. Conflicted. Confused. Guilty...love-struck. You didn’t know what to do and felt extremely overwhelmed.

     Tonight would be the best opportunity to tell him how you feel: alone, private, cozy and warm, cuddling up together? Yes, that was perfect...but at the same time, if he rejects you, then what? He leaves immediately and has nowhere to go? Or maybe he stays the night to be polite and there’s an awkward silence between you for the rest of your lives...what if he avoids you after school and no longer wants to go to the same university as you?! Your head was spinning.

     Why am I such a coward...you thought to yourself, tears mingling with the shower water.

~

     When you finally dried off and got dressed, Korekiyo was already waiting for you in your room, having turned on your electric blanket on your bed and sitting patiently waiting for you underneath it. His hair was damp and his mask was on your night stand. He acknowledged your entrance with a warm grin and patted the bed next to him.

     “Why are you in bed? It’s only like five, I was thinking we would go downstairs and cuddle on the couch and eat something-” you approached him slowly and he cut you off.

     “Goodness, Y/N, what’s wrong?” He stood to meet you, inches away and towering over you.

      “Huh?” He took your chin in his hands and tilted it upwards to meet his dandelion-colored eyes.

     “Your eyes are all puffed up. You’ve been crying? Why?” Wow…

     “You never miss a thing, huh, Kiyo?” You tried to change the subject or lighten the mood or...anything!

     “Only when it comes to you~” he hummed before leading you down the stairs and onto your couch. You dragged along behind him like a child being forced to the dentist. “Now, what’s upsetting you? You can tell me anything, you know that…” his eyes were full of concern and he but his lower lip, apprehensive.

     “Kiyo, I- well….it’s just...nothing’s wrong. Let’s go get some snacks. I know you love soup dumplings with white rice~” You smiled weakly.

     “First of all, that’s more of a meal than a snack, but anyway, you know you can’t lie to me, Y/N.”

     “I just...I just want...this is so hard.” You sighed, voice faltering.

     “What’s so hard? Me sleeping over, or your dad being gone? The rain earlier?”

     “No no.... I want you here and you know I don’t miss my dad...a-and I feel much better after washing up…” your voice trailed off. He took your hand one final time that night.

     And then...

     “May I kiss you?” Kiyo spoke so gently, so scared and soft, like he couldn’t even believe his own words. Your eyes widened in shock.

     “W-what?!” You pulled away from him, incredulous.

     “I want to kiss you, Y/N. Will you allow me?” You paused for a moment, your mind reeling, but then you nodded slowly, your brain taking over and deciding it knew what was best for you.

     Korekiyo leaned in, the couch squeaking a bit at the shift of weight. He clasped your chin with one hand, and guided you to him. His lips pressed gently into yours, as if he thought he might break you if he went any further. His lips were plush, surging with warmth, exactly how you’d always imagined them. After pecking you, he pulled back, looking for consent, looking for a sign that you enjoyed that, too. You nodded, getting the hint, and he pressed back onto you, a bit more liberal with his affection this time around.

     “Mmm…” you moaned into the kiss as you both tilted your heads at an angle to reach deeper, and his mouth slid open. His tongue trailed against your bottom lip and you opened up without hesitation, your heart going a mile a minute. His tongue massaged yours carefully for a long moment that seemed frozen in time, and then he pulled back. You both sat staring at each other, panting a bit, until a smirk teased across the corner of his lips, and a blush appeared on his normally-concealed face. “H-how...how did you know?”

     “I’ve always known…” you felt a wave of embarrassment and shame wash over you. “You’re not good at hiding it.”

     “Kiyo...I’m so sorry. I know we are just friends and I shouldn’t feel this way. I just- you are...I can’t stop feeling this way.”

     “Y/N...did you think I asked to kiss you out of pity…?” He saw something like realization register in your expression, and he reached out, pulling you into his chest.

     “You...you feel the same?”

     “Exactly the same.” You didn’t feel so guilty anymore. “And I suppose we both were just too afraid of rejection to say anything. But knowing you, I knew I would have to make the first move if I ever wanted you to myself…” he hugged you tighter with those words.

     “Y-yeah, I’m sorry about that...Kiyo, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you.”

     “And I should’ve told you, but there’s no use feeling guilty. We both want this.”

     “Kiyo, will you...be my boyfriend…?” You now knew his true feelings, but still felt a lump in your throat. What if he didn’t want a committed, serious relationship right now, or his sister wouldn’t allow it...?

     “I want that more than anything.”

     You spent the rest of the night cooking soup dumplings, then shoving your faces with the greasiest snacks money could buy and watching documentaries while snuggled into his lap on the couch. He pointed out little facts and trivia along with each documentary, his obsession for culture and anthropology unabashedly taking over.

#korekiyo x reader #korekiyo shinguuji #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa killing harmony #new semester of killing #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns #fluff #angst #romance #pregame #crush #y/n #s/o #friends to lovers #modkokichi #request #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #scenario #Trigger happy havoc #super danganronpa 2 #danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #first kiss #sfw

[stupid-stew]

two vent fics in as many days? me? nooooo.

the answer is actually yes. i am in crisis all of the time. here take a gender one because why the heck not it's 4:30 am and i have nothing to lose. luz, toady you are me. there is also a little bit of parent eda because what do you take me for? a fool? (Pronouns? AO3 link if that floats ur boat)

Luz Noceda had a lot of problems.

Sure, she was stuck in a hell dimension with no way home in sight, where her best chance of surviving was reliant on her having magic, of which she had none, and was separated from her mom, and was currently blaming herself for her surrogate mom having lost her magic, but that wasn’t the point right now.

Right now, Luz was focused on herself. That’s usually how these nights ended up, with her so lost in thought that she circled back to the root of the problem, she didn’t know who she was.

That wasn’t entirely true, she was Luz Noceda, average teen, lover of Azura, daughter of Camila, professional witch in training, student at Hexside School of Magic and Demonics, foe to an unlucky few, friend to most, the girl who had managed to outsmart the emperor and get herself stuck so far from home she might as well just give up now. Luz knew what she was, she was what other people knew her for, but who was she? Anyone’s guess, suggestions much appreciated.

She had grown up in an environment that exposed her to many different people, the internet. Yeah, maybe she had seen a lot of stuff way before she should have, but she also had the whole world at her fingertips, many types of people and experiences just on the other side of her screen, and it had led to some amazing things. Her mom had also been a big help, allowing Luz to question and experiment any which way she pleased, as long as she was happy and safe. That had helped Luz figure out who she liked, she was comfortable telling her mom she liked girls confidently at the ripe age of 10, Camila had of course been nothing but accepting.

That was easy enough, right? She knew exactly what she was, who she liked, hell she could figure out most people just by looking at them, so why couldn’t she figure out herself?

And that was where Luz was at, laying on the floor in her makeshift bedroom in the owl house, once again wondering what in the hell was a gender.

Luz was no stranger to this internal battle, it sort of came with the whole territory of figuring out your sexuality, but for the life of her she didn’t even know where to start.

Ok, she thought to herself, let’s start from the top. I don’t know where the top is. What is the easiest way to go about this. Most people start with pronouns, maybe that’s a good place to start? Luz let out a groan, this was going nowhere. Back on track. she/her. Simple enough, good solid pronouns. That’s what most people have called me forever. I'm comfortable with it, other people are comfortable with it, no, what other people think doesn’t matter, this is about me. Focus, Luz. Ok, she/her, fine. Though not always, doesn’t always feel right, how can words feel right or wrong that doesn’t even make sense. Whatever, most of the time she/her equals a girl.

Luz shivered at that, girl, the word had never felt right to her, something about it was gross in her mind. She had always hated being referred to as girl or daughter, but never had the guts to speak up about it in the moment. Luz chuckled to herself, and look where we are now. she/her moved to the maybe pile for now.

Next on the list was he/him. Luz smiled at that. Being a somewhat androgynous child for most of her life with short hair, being called her mother’s son at the grocery store was a fairly common occurrence. She recalled one time she was out with a couple of friends and some sweet old lady had said to them “you ladies have a nice day.” and then looked at Luz and added “oh, my bad, and gentleman.” Luz had to leave the store at that, her friends had assumed she was upset that the lady had called her a gentleman, but that wasn’t the case. She was more upset about having been singled out than anything, in fact she hadn’t at all minded being called a gentleman. It didn’t feel completely right, but it didn’t feel completely wrong either.

Ok, so pronouns, this is Luz, he is my apprentice. Eh, feels about the same as she. That’s so lame I was hoping there would be some sort of difference. The only discomfort is that i’m used to she, god my head hurts just thinking about this. Luz rolled over to her other side and covered her head with her sleeping bag. How can I feel literally the same about the two, I haven’t even left the binary, there’s only two options, one should be right, the other should be wrong. This is the same idea as answering an either or question and both options are the same but both are neither right nor wrong. It doesn’t even make sense. If the binary isn’t going to give me my answers then I need to step it up.

They/Them was dangerous territory for Luz and she knew it. This wasn’t her first time around the block, she knew that she loved they/them pronouns for herself. “This is Luz, they’re my apprentice.” God it just felt so right. She could never figure out why, much less bring herself to even try, which was probably how she kept landing herself in this situation. Laying up at night, staring at the ceiling, running pronouns, of all things, through her head over and over. It probably would have been easier if she had someone to tell her how gender was supposed to feel. What it was supposed to identify, what it was supposed to offer for her identity, but alas. It had been easier with her sexuality, she knew from the moment someone had told her that liking girls was even an option that was who she was. She was confident in that, it was simple enough. So why was this still so hard?

Luz took her head out from under her sleeping bag and rubbed the heel of her palms over her eyes. I know I like they/them pronouns, they’re my favorite, they feel so correct, huh go figure I finally got my answer, words can feel right. Still not sure how… anyways, what the hell do I do about it? Ask people to just change the way they refer to me? That’s absurd. Luz knew it wasn’t absurd. Not in the slightest. She knew she had done it for plenty of people before, people she had known for years. It wasn’t hard, it was actually pretty easy and she was glad to switch around how she referred to them no matter how many times they asked. So why can’t I just do the same. Most people see me as a boy or a girl, it’s fine, it’s ok, well at the very least I can deal with it. What are they supposed to do? Just not?

Luz sprawled out on her back and shut her eyes as tight as she could. She knew she had met plenty of people who were non binary, and somehow she had been able to erase the idea of them being either a boy or a girl out of her head almost completely. It’s just how it had worked, was it because she didn’t really see herself in that way either? Maybe I’m just making it up. Maybe it’s all in my head and I’m stopping myself from causing a lot of problems, what if I’m wrong, what if I make a mistake and have to ask people to change around again? I barely figured out what pronouns I prefer, ok well I’ve known for a while, but I still don’t have a label. Non binary? Maybe? I wish I knew what gender was supposed to feel like. She placed her hands behind her head and sighed. If you asked me what gender felt like to me I either wouldn’t have an answer and would start crying or would just scream shrilly at you for a few minutes. Pronouns don’t equal gender but what are either of those. If I use they/them pronouns do I have to identify as non binary? I don’t even like labeling my sexuality and I know what that is. God, I haven’t even scratched the surface of how I present mysel-

Her thoughts were muted by a knock at her door.

“Luz I know you’re awake.”

It was Eda, of course it was. Who else would be awake at this hour and hear her singular sigh from the hallway?

Luz pushed herself up from off the ground and slowly opened the door.

“Can’t sleep?” Eda asked.

Luz just shook her head. She didn’t have the energy for words at the moment.

Eda sighed and stretched out her arm to reach behind her head and pull out a clock from her hair. “Me neither, looks like it’s too late for either of us to be awake. Want some tea?”

Luz nodded and followed Eda down the creaky stairs and to the kitchen. Eda immediately found a kettle and started filling it with water to boil while Luz took a seat at the counter. They sat with just the sound of the running tap for a few uncomfortable seconds before Eda asked the question Luz had been dreading.

“What’s keeping you up?”

Shoot. Can I talk to her about this? It’s Eda, she doesn’t care, does she? Nobody here seems to mind anything, cool non binary witches. That’s so rad. I don’t want to bother her, what if she doesn’t understand, so I have the energy to explain? How would I even go about dropping this if it goes south?

“Hellooooo? Isles to Luz?”

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Eda waving her hands in her face, she looked… worried? Oh, I haven’t answered her question.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing.”

Eda didn’t believe her for a minute.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Luz just sort of turned her head away and shrugged. Eda knew she couldn’t pry it out of the kid. Instead, she just decided to finish making the tea. The two of them sat in silence while the tea bags steeped, which gave Luz a moment back to herself to question her next move.

Eda handed Luz the steaming mug. “You can talk about it if you want. I’ll listen.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

Eda grinned. They were getting somewhere, whatever was keeping the kid awake this late at night was reaching the surface.

“Just go for it, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Sooo many things Eda.

Luz decided to just start out simple. “Do you know what pronouns are?”

Eda nodded. Ok, good.

“Ok, what are your pronouns?”

Eda was taken aback by this a little, nobody had asked her that in years. What was the kid dealing with? “Well, I use she/her pronouns, but I’ve never really felt attached to any of them, so whatever works just works I guess. Same for King, I don’t really think he cares much as long as you’re referring to him as royalty.” Eda snorted with laughter.

Luz was kind of in shock. Does she feel the same way I do? How did she pick? “How did you know?” the words just kind of fell out of her mouth in a mess.

“Know what?”

Eda looked at her with confusion.

“What pronouns you use?”

“I don’t know, here nobody really cared that much, why should I?”

Then Eda remembered.

“Ooooh yeah you humans use them for that whole gender identity thing. We kind of have that here but it’s not as big of a deal, you guys have all those labels, yeah?”

Luz swallowed deeply and nodded.

“Is that what’s keeping you up?”

Another nod.

“Do you wanna talk at me? I know you do better with your words than your mind, I can do the dishes while you talk if you don’t want my focus.”

Luz was now completely dumbfounded. In the last two minutes, Eda had told her that not only was gender a human thing, but that she was willing to let Luz process it the way that she needed, how had she known? Wait…. Just how similar are Eda and I? Luz couldn’t help but wonder.

Luz nodded and Eda got up without a word and headed straight for the sink.

“I don’t know. Back in the human world, people have a lot of words that they use to describe their genders. I don’t understand any of them, I know their definitions, but I don’t know how to relate to them.”

Luz paused and Eda gave her a gentle hum of interest as a signal to continue.

“They’ve just never made sense to me, I don’t know why and I don’t know how but it’s incredibly frustrating. I gave up on trying to get it and moved on to the things that I do get, which is limited to pronouns. You’ve got the binary pronouns like she and he, usually those fit the words girl and boy, not always, sometimes people use more than one set of pronouns, but the thing is I can’t pick. They feel the exact same to me. There are other ones, the most common being they/them, and I really like those, Eda I really really like them.”

Eda smiled at her, glad to see Luz’s face lighting up.

“But I don’t know. I don’t know if I should use one set, multiple. It’s really bothering that so many people back home understand, they just seem so sure of themselves, they know who they are, they know that they’re a boy or a girl or neither or even both, there’s even more genders to be a combination of, but I can’t. I think there has to be something wrong with me because I know it shouldn’t be this hard but it is, it’s always on my mind, and I can’t stop it or make it make sense. I haven’t even begun to entertain the idea of asking people to change the pronouns they use for me because I can’t tell myself what label even goes with what, and I feel stupid.”

Eda stopped what she was doing.

“You aren’t stupd Luz.”

“How can you say that when I don’t even know who I am, I can’t even figure out what words I want people to use when they refer to me.” Luz sounded exhausted.

Eda turned around and looked her in the face, dead serious. “You aren’t stupid, you just don’t know who you are,” she dried her hands on a towel and sat down across from Luz. “and that’s ok. I know it’s maddening not knowing, but you’re allowed to feel that way, if you don’t have all the answers, what’s gonna happen? Are you gonna die?”

Luz rolled her eyes “sometimes it really does feel like it.”

Eda stood up. “Well we can’t have that, no dead apprentices. You seem to have been thinking about this for a long time, you just need a little bit of a push. Pick some new pronouns.”

Luz stared at her, “what?”

“You can’t figure out how the feeling works, or if there even is one, that’s ok. But, you know that there are some words that fit better than others. You might not be able to tell me why, but you know what they are. What are they?”

Luz didn’t know what to do, she hadn’t prepared herself for this. She was ready for Eda not knowing what was going on, not this. She’s right, time to rip off the bandaid.

“I don’t know…”

“Yes you do.”

There really is no getting out of this one.

“I don’t know, I guess they/them feels ok? Better than the others?”

“And so it shall be.” Eda stated matter-of-factly.

Luz shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “but I don’t know, I’m really used to she/her, they don’t fit quite right but they’ve never really felt wrong enough to get rid of completely.”

Eda shrugged, “you don’t have to. You can use both if you want.”

Luz wasn’t sure, she knew Eda was right, but she couldn’t help but recall the time someone had told her that adding they/them to your pronouns was performative and accomplished nothing. Screw them.

“Ok.” It was simple, but it’s all she had.

“Anything else I should know?”

Luz took a deep breath, she was in this far, might as well keep it up.

“It really bothers me when I get referred to as a girl, I know that I don’t know what labels go where, but I know that one is wrong.”

“Good to know.”

This was going way better than Luz expected, but now all her thoughts were out and she had a little bit of a resolution, she was finally starting to feel how late it was. She yawned, “I think I’m done for the night.”

Eda put on a mock offended look, “But you didn’t even touch your tea? I worked so hard on that for you!”

Luz gave her a weak smile. “It was never about the tea, was it, you just wanted me to talk.”

Eda reached out and ruffled Luz’s hair, “It worked, huh?”

“Yeah I guess it did.”

“Good.”

They emptied their cups into the now pristine sink and went back up the stairs.

“Thanks Eda.”

“Don’t mention it.”

#the owl house #luz noceda #pronouns #fanfic #eda clawthorne

[yumikan]

[Scout Story] Zodiac (dragon fruit – 1)

Please read my note and about first~

-Fruits Parlor-

<2 years ago>

Shu

Sit up, Nito

Nazuna

……? ……?

Shu

? Why are you looking around like that……? It’s unseemly

You’re one of this Great Itsuki Shu’s creation, you’re a member of [Valkyrie] so keep being resolute all the time!

Nazuna

…………

Shu

…… Recently, you’re talking less. Not only it’s inconvenient since we can’t have a conversation, it feels like you’re ignoring anything I say and it’s lonely

Aa Nito! Nito, Nito, Nito! Please let me hear your lovely voice that’s like a fluttering scales of fairy’s wings!

With that tongue, quench the hardened fragment of my heart vocally!

With that only, my heart can be satisfied! I can obtain the energy to bring about everlasting art that carved into history!

Hence Nito, lovely Nito! Open those lips which look like fully bloomed flower, overflow me with reward from that treasure house!

I will embrace it and adore it, never become bored of it!

Nazuna

…………

…… Oshi-san, sometimes your word is too poetic that it’s hard to understand. Not to mention, it’s embarrassing, we’re inside the store so stay quiet

Shu

Aa, I’ve heard it, Nito! It’s your voice……♪

I wonder how long it has been, très bien[1]!

It is to gain this pleasure that I disturb you, it feels like I have become an eccentric that need to be scolded! Like a child who has never been loved by their parent!

Nazuna

…………

Shu

Fufu. Since it looks like your affection will be depleted if I keep making noise, I’ll be prudent

More importantly, Nito…… I believe you’re tired today, you should really sit down and take a rest first

Nazuna

…………

Shu

Right. That’s good, you’re always being faithful to me. That’s why I like you

Nazuna

…………

Shu

Aa, today was really tiring…… Though it’s a good thing that our works have increased and it also makes me happy to see my art being accepted

Well, whether those vulgar people from the society value it or no, it’s fine as long as I alone can understand my art’s value

That is a mere act of pleasuring oneself, though it also feels empty[2]

Nazuna

…… Everyone praised us, I’m happy about it[3]

Shu

Nito. I’ve said this before, use “boku” as your first-person pronoun. Since your beauty lies in your androgynous, well “watashi” will do

Nazuna

…… At least, let me be as I please with how I speak

Shu

Fufu. Though, rather than you’re being sullen and keep silent, it’s many times more preferable if you speak about anything

Why, I wonder why you’ve spoken less now

At first, I’ve thought that you’re just shy…… But some time has passed, I’ve become a bit worried

Nazuna

…………

Shu

Aa Nito, it’s not like I’m criticizing you or anything. You should do as you like

With you just being yourself, every conduct of yours shall be affirmed by the whole world

Fufu. Though, you’re really adorable…… I won’t be bored even if I gaze at you every day, I discover new thing every day

You’re like a doll. Aa, that’s the highest word of praise in my case, you know?

Nazuna

…………

Shu

Hm? Right, we shouldn’t be chatting like this, shall we order some food? That’s the reason we enter this store, after all

Nito, what do you want to eat? You must be hungry, since today’s recording take quite amount of distance……

On the way home, I can’t endure my worry anymore when your movement start being sloppy

Well, from your stomach, a cute heavenly gospel…… or should I say, the growl of your stomach. When I heard that sound though, I was slightly disappointed and laughed♪

I see that you’re also a human, though that’s a given…… Sometimes I forgot about it

Nazuna

…………

Shu

Fufu. So you’re embarrassed that I heard your stomach growling, Nito!

Aa, the sight of embarrassed you is also adorable! The redness of your cheek, it’s not from a doll but rather it’s the beauty from a human……

It hurts!?

Non! Nito, stop the violence! It’s not like you’re a barbarian!

Nazuna

…… As I said, don’t make so much noise. We’re gathering onlookers from the whole store

Shu

Kakaka! I’m showing it off, the beauty knowns as you!

I give happiness to the eyes of those passing mediocre people who aren’t related with me at all, rather, I want them to be grateful

Applaud, Ladies and Gentlemen! Admire and be honored! The peak of your life is exactly this moment right now……! Kakakakaka☆

Nazuna

…………

Shu

Aa, it hurts! As I said, it hurts, Nito? Don’t hit my head, won’t it be bad if there’s any crack in your slender hand……?

If you receive an impact, your skin will be teared, your bone will be creaked, an art will be damaged!

Although, in reality, my whole life will end just from admiring you endlessly

Even though I hate the proverb “dumplings before flowers”, we should fill our belly first

Hmph. I originally refused to eat outside, but I can’t stand seeing the hungry Nito……

A lovely little child who is starving, it’s the worst tragedy ever

Nazuna

…… We’re the same age, you know. I’ve been telling you this forever, but don’t treat me like a kid

Shu

How rude of me! The sight of you, being reluctant and angry, is just so delightful and precious……

Please judge my crime who say things that rub you up the wrong way on purpose! Lovely Nito!

 [1] It’s French. It means “excellent”.

[2] Shu really said “自慰行為” that means “(act of) masturbation” or “pleasuring oneself”. I hope I don’t mistranslate this…

[3] Nazuna used “ore” is here. Later, in next line, Shu mentioned that he must use another first-person pronoun. I keep the pronoun in Japanese romaji there.

#zodiac #enstars #translation #scout

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Two

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

When Roman woke up next, he turned to check the time on the clock on his nightstand, only to realize he wasn’t in his own bed. He sat upright with a gasp before he remembered that he was at the Byron’s to be married off to Damien. He forced away a sob as he got himself dressed again, back into that infernal pink thing his mother forced him to wear. He considered the odds of him being caught walking around barefoot, and decided that the yelling didn’t outweigh the feeling of being able to walk for fifteen minutes.

He slipped on the heels and opened the door to his room to find his suitcases waiting. He pulled them into his room and resolved to change into pants later. As it was, he had to get something to eat before his mother came looking for him.

Wandering around the castle in search of the kitchen, Roman realized that same yellow that was in the entrance was painted on virtually every hallway in the place. He was starting to see why someone might hate it.

He made a triumphant noise when he stumbled upon the kitchen, and his heels clicked against the tile as he looked around. There had to be something simple that didn’t need much preparation that he could eat... “Excuse me?” a voice asked from behind him.

Roman turned and the man gasped, hastily bowing. “Princess Veronica, my apologies, I did not realize that was you!” the man said.

“Oh it’s quite all right, Mister...?”

“Uh, Hart. Patton Hart. I’m the top chef in charge around here,” he said. “Is there anything I can do for you? I know you slept through when the Queens were having breakfast together.”

“Yeah, if there’s any...any fruit, or something small I can have for breakfast, that would be lovely,” Roman said.

“Is that all? I could make you something bigger if you wanted...”

“No, something small is all I want,” Roman said, flashing a smile. “If you have any green apples I would be more than happy with one of those.”

“Oh! Sure thing!” Patton said, rushing to the pantry and coming back with two green apples. “Take two, just in case you’re hungrier than you think you are,” he suggested.

“You’re very kind,” Roman said with a small smile.

“Anything for a princess as beautiful as you!” Patton chirped.

Roman kept his smile in place by some miracle of strength he didn’t realize he had. “Do you happen to know where Prince Damien is?” he asked. “I was hoping we could continue our conversation from this morning sooner, rather than later.”

“Oh, of course!” Patton exclaimed. “He should be studying in the library with his professor. He’s incredibly intelligent, did you know? He’s working on getting a Bachelor’s degree in Ancient Roman history.”

Roman sniffed a laugh. Patton’s brows furrowed but Roman just waved a hand. “Nothing particularly funny, just an inside joke between me and my brother,” he dismissed. “How do I get to the library from here?”

“Uh, up one floor and head towards the back of the castle, Damien likes the view by the windows so that’s where you’re most likely to find him,” Patton said.

“All right. Thank you, Patton,” Roman said with a smile, before walking out of the kitchen. His teeth dug into the skin of one of the apples and he took a bite, savoring the tart taste of a good old-fashioned green apple. There wasn’t anything quite like it.

As he made his way upstairs, he kept one ear open to see if he could hear his mother, in an attempt to avoid her. He’d rather spend time alone with Damien than spend any time with his mother.

He got to the library door, somewhat ajar and he pushed it open softly, looking around. There were shelves upon shelves of books, and at the very back of the room, a giant set of bay windows, where Damien was sitting, typing on a laptop. After throwing away the apple cores in a nearby trash can, Roman walked over, relieved that at least one place in the castle had carpet, so he didn’t have to worry about hearing his heels click everywhere.

It was only when he was three feet away that Damien acknowledged him, and then he had him mistaken for someone else as he said, “I’m almost done with my paper, Logan, I’ll have it on the printer for you in five minutes. I just need to finish proofreading.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m not interrupting you in the middle of the paper, then,” Roman said, sitting down across from Damien and looking out the window. “But I’m afraid I’m not Logan.”

Damien looked up. “Oh! Veronica,” he said. “My apologies.”

Roman ignored the sting at his deadname, knowing that Damien didn’t know any better. It was taking a lot of patience out of him, but he could grin and bear it just a little while longer, just until he could figure out a way out of here. “It’s fine,” he said. “I was just wondering if you were still studying. I was looking forward to our conversation about childhood adventures.”

“Ah. Well, as I said, I just need to finish proofreading. As soon as the paper is printed we can talk,” Damien said.

Roman nodded and let Damien read through what he had written, and Roman noticed with a small amount of amusement that Damien was mouthing along to what he was reading.

When he turned back to the window, he could see the blue sea stretching for miles, a few boats dotting the blue here and there, but the ocean was mostly untouched. He would love to go out there on a boat, just him and Remus, swimming and play-arguing, and maybe even fishing a little if they were patient enough.

Subtly he shook himself free of those thoughts. That wasn’t a possibility anymore. He wouldn’t get the chance to speak to Remus often, save through emails which would no doubt be heavily monitored by his mother. His eyes stung, and he blinked back his tears. He couldn’t cry, not at all but especially not here, in front of a man who he was doomed to pretend to love until death.

Damien nodded, hit a couple buttons on his laptop, and in the distance, Roman could hear a printer start up. “I can get the paper in a little while,” Damien said with a smile. “I must admit that I wasn’t expecting you to seek me out.”

Roman shrugged. “Well, I may not be pleased at being married, but I would at least like to know my husband. And any time away from my mother is a welcome distraction.”

Damien threw Roman a quizzical look and Roman shrugged with a bitter smile. “It sounds strange, I know, but it’s true. My mother is not the most caring individual in the world. She adores my brother, and she loves who she wants me to be, but I can’t be what she wants me to be, and that leaves me lacking in her support, and often leaves us at odds.”

“You have my sincerest apologies, my dear. That does not sound easy,” Damien said.

Roman shrugged again and sighed. “Do you ever wish that...that you didn’t have to be who everyone wanted you to be? That you felt in charge of your own destiny?”

“All too often,” Damien said softly. “It’s a painful and lonely feeling.”

Roman gave Damien a true smile, albeit tinged with sadness. “At least we aren’t alone in our misery anymore?”

Damien barked a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth and looking around before he grinned at Roman. “How very true,” he said, and Roman felt like he could stare at Damien’s smile forever. Why did Damien have to be cute? Why did Roman have to be into guys? He was sure this would have been easier if he felt nothing for the prince sitting in front of him, but Roman undeniably felt there was something interesting about the man. “So, do you want to continue our discussion about childhood adventures? Or shall we just wallow in misery for a few more minutes?”

Roman offered Damien a smirk. “I don’t know. Commiserating can be very cathartic.”

Damien laughed softly. “Well, why don’t I tell you some of my mishaps, so you might feel less embarrassed about yours?”

“Oh, I’m not embarrassed by my mishaps, they happen to make for hilarious stories,” Roman said with a grin. “There was the time that my brother and I swapped clothes as young kids, convinced that no one would be able to tell us apart.”

Damien chuckled. “Did you have long hair then, too?”

“No. Believe it or not, I had hair much like a pixie cut, and so did my brother. We actually got away with it for most of the day, until it came time for dinner, our parents found us covered in mud from playing in the garden, and we had to each take a bath,” Roman laughed.

Damien laughed with him, and Roman actually felt briefly happy, despite his circumstances. “I never had a sibling to wreak havoc with, which I suppose is for the best, considering the sort of trouble I would get up to just persuading the castle staff to humor me for five minutes. One such incident involved a tailor trying to fit me for a suit when I had to be about...six years old, and I managed to get into my art supplies, grabbing the glitter but not looking where I was going...”

“Oh, no,” Roman laughed. “Where did it land?”

“Somewhat on the fabric that was going to be used for my suit...but mostly on the tailor,” Damien explained.

“Oh, no!” Roman laughed hard enough that he was wheezing. “I can only imagine how you would have been with a brother or sister as a child.”

Damien laughed. “Yes, I fear it would not have ended well for anyone involved.”

Roman shook his head. “Were your parents mad?”

“Furious,” Damien said. “I wasn’t allowed glitter for six months after that.”

Roman laughed with a wince in sympathy.

“When did you start to grow out your hair?” Damien asked, pointing to Roman’s long locks. “If you had a pixie cut as a young child?”

Roman sighed. “My mother forced me to grow it out when I was ten. I wasn’t a fan of it then and I’m still not now. Long hair is just impractical, and I much prefer not having to blow dry anything.”

Damien closed his laptop. “May I ask you a question, Veronica?”

Oh, boy, here it goes, Roman thought. “Sure,” he said.

“You seem to be very...androgynous-to-masculine in behavior. But you wear very feminine clothing, and present as very feminine in appearance in general. Is there any particular reason for that?”

He could say it. He could say he was trans, right now, where no one except him and Damien were. His mother couldn’t stop him, no one would wander in and listen, he could say it. But if Damien reacted poorly...his mother would be furious at him still insisting he was trans, and absolutely nothing would go right. He might even be shipped off to a different kingdom to a different prince to be married there, and he wouldn’t be allowed a bit of privacy from his mother until he had that cursed ring on his finger. So...in reality...he couldn’t say it. “I’m unsure,” he said. “I suppose growing up with Remus, and following around the knights and guards, and very rarely being around women made me have a more masculine taste.”

“I suppose that could be a reason,” Damien agreed, but judging by the look he was giving Roman he didn’t quite believe the lie. “Do you intend to have lunch with the Queens today? My father and I were considering joining the three of you, but I would only want to go if you were in attendance.”

Roman sighed. “I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, Damien,” he admitted. “My mother is a controlling woman. What she says goes, and the only people who dare defy her are removed from her world quickly and without mercy.”

Damien frowned. “That does not sound remotely pleasant. Is there nothing you can do to stop her?”

Roman scoffed. “The last time I tried that is the reason why I’m here now.”

“What?” Damien looked shocked.

“My mother is removing me from the equation until in her eyes I can ‘behave,’” Roman explained, using air quotes around the word behave. “She doesn’t believe me when I say what I want. She thinks that marrying me to a man will make me change my opinion on certain things, like my hair, or preferring to wear pants to skirts.”

“That’s...awful,” Damien managed. “I suppose a part of you must be happy to escape her grasp, though?”

“She’ll constantly pester me here until she’s decided I’ve changed my tune,” Roman spat. “I know this isn’t very ‘ladylike’ but I hate her with a fiery passion usually reserved for the deepest pits of hell.”

Damien’s eyebrows rose and Roman inwardly scolded himself for letting himself get carried away in a rant again. “I’m truly sorry, Veronica. That...that cannot be easy.”

Roman flinched visibly at the use of his deadname, and he stood abruptly, needing to get away, to breathe, to think without constantly having his old life thrown in his face. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, before practically running out of the room.

His heels clicked in the hallways, and with every step Roman could feel himself losing a little more of his sanity. The apples he had eaten earlier felt like a rock in his stomach, and he thought he might be sick.

He retreated to his room, fishing in his luggage for the books he had packed. While his mother had confiscated his laptop, she couldn’t take away the books he had read. He pulled out a classic thriller, deciding that he would read before lunch.

In an instant, he was teleported into a world where he didn’t have to be a ladylike princess named Veronica, he could be Ty Stryder, the private eye trying to figure out who killed the mayor before the corrupt cops got to him and got him to stop investigating...one way or another.

He was halfway through the novel before there was a knock at his door and he checked the time. Ten until noon. Time for lunch. He sighed, smoothed the skirt of his dress, and moved to the door, where an overeager young servant was waiting for him. “Right this way, Your Highness, the royal family will be eating with you and your mother.”

Joy, Roman thought to himself, but again, didn’t dare say.

He allowed himself to be guided to the main dining room, which had high ceilings, and bright white walls, with gold accents in the curtains. Damien was already there, as was Damien’s mother, but it appeared that Damien’s father and Roman’s mother were not yet in attendance. “Your Highness, Your Majesty,” he greeted.

“Ah, Veronica, come on in,” the Queen said. “Your mother and I missed you at breakfast this morning.”

Roman shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid I was more tired than anticipated,” he said with a plastered-on fake smile.

Damien gave him a searching look and Roman bit back the urge to snarl and run. It wasn’t anything Damien had done, it wasn’t fair to antagonize him for something he couldn’t help. Roman sat down across from Damien, which he really wished he could avoid, but he knew it was Damien or the Queen, and he wasn’t quite ready to tackle the problem which was the Queen yet. “Are you feeling better, Veronica?” Damien asked.

“Better? Was she ill earlier?” the Queen asked.

“She was in a hurry this morning when we were having a discussion in the library. I could only assume she felt unwell, by how distraught she was at the end of the conversation,” Damien explained.

And all of a sudden, Roman thought that he might get sick again. He hated his old name and his old pronouns more than he had first thought. Or maybe he was just hearing them so often that it felt like he had never been called anything else, ever, not even by Remus. “I’m feeling a little better, thank you,” he said quietly, hating the sound of his too-high voice, hating the feel of the too-tight dress, hating the situation of being trapped inside his own mind with no way to free himself.

Then, the King came in, along with Roman’s mother, and Roman had to plaster on that all-too-fake smile again as the King greeted him, and his mother sat down next to him, across from the Queen.

Patton came in, along with five servants, who placed plates in front of each of the members of the table. “Today’s lunch is rather simple, I’m afraid. Chicken parmesan,” Patton said.

“I’m sure it’s great, Patton,” the King said. “All of your food is.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Patton said with a bow. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to shout!”

And with that, the five were left alone with their food. Roman forced himself to eat, even though food was the last thing on his mind. His mother would want him to be polite, and that included eating what was put in front of him.

“I had seen pictures of you before, Veronica, but they don’t do you justice. You look absolutely beautiful,” the King said.

Roman looked down at his plate in embarrassment and just a touch of anger before he looked back up and said, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The King smiled at him and as the Queen and his mother started talking about wedding plans in excitement, Damien and Roman shared embarrassed glances. Roman was relieved that at least he wasn’t the only one who felt embarrassed by this turn of events. Damien didn’t feel completely comfortable with the wedding either, or at least, he didn’t feel comfortable with their mothers’ plans.

The conversation continued for a while, as Roman picked at his food. Then, “What do you think, Veronica?”

Roman hummed a question as he washed down some of the chicken with his water. “I’m sorry, what was the question?” he asked.

“Do you have a preference on a dress?” his mother asked with a touch of impatience. “I was hoping for something rather intricate, I love it when you wear lace.”

Roman bit his tongue and shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought, truth be told. Although I must admit I’m not looking for anything like lace in particular. It’s rather difficult for me to enjoy myself when I’m wearing something that...well...feels wrong.”

His mother sent him a warning glare. Roman shrugged. “I just don’t like lace very much, Mother, I’m sorry.”

The conversation continued, with Roman reluctantly roped into it. It was all “Veronica” this and “Veronica” that, never once asking his opinion on the questions that mattered, and he absolutely hated it.

“Do you prefer gold or silver, Veronica?”

“Chocolate cake for the reception, Veronica?”

“What do you want your first dance to be, Veronica?”

Roman stood up from the table the moment he finished his chicken, the chair he was sitting in screeching across the floor. “Apologies, I’m still not feeling well,” he said, before leaving the room without another word.

Tag List: @loganpatton​ @lilbeanblr​ @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander​ @narniasfinestavengingsociopath  @rjmeta​ @ambersky0319​ @anni-cat-flower @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @nafsbluebery @lunareclipse-13 @sanders-sides-crofters @blushy-gigglee-mess @wannacrymetoo @kaytikitty @magicalspacepanunicorn @bootsinthesun @pricklyfish777 @flowersanddinosaurs @leiasolo77 @voidvirgil @birdybabybird @enby-phoenix @luna–28 @justagaygoose @the-prince-and-the-emo @fandomsandanythingelse @randommuffinyt @snekky-boi @thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot @twilight-trix @abby5577 @escalatingtoofast @friendlyfacestabbing @remus-is-stinky @foggybanditdreampeanut @ghostskull300 @sprinklestheditty

#roceit #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #royal growing pains #our creations

[melodiouswhite]

Quiet

(Lady Summers, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde struggle to cope with their immortality, as their loved ones pass away one by one. But they find comfort in their friendship.)

Most people found that with the end of Victoria's reign, it was finally time for progresses that hadn't been made before.

It was December 1926 and many things had changed.

While she was all for progress, she was a child of the mid-19th century and this new era seemed so foreign to her. So fast. So fleeting. So different.

Women had won the right to vote.

Medicine progressed like never before.

The Great War had ravaged the whole world just a few years earlier and changed everything.

She still could see the scars. In form of shell-shocked soldiers, of people who found no work, because of the poor economy, of invalids, who were reduced to begging in the streets.

She had more patients than before – most of them traumatised from the War.

She had buried herself in her work as a therapist. It was all she had left.

For Lady Summers, the beginning 20th century was a time of grief. After decades of wearing no mourning attire, she had returned to wearing nothing but black.

Her villa, which she had loved ever since she had moved in, had grown quiet.

While she hadn't aged a day, her servants had and most of them had passed on by now. The fact that most of them had been her half-siblings made this even more painful.

Philippine had been the first to go.

The night nurse had always been of delicate health. So it had been no surprise, when she had succumbed to scarlet fever (proving once again, that scarlet fever was no children's disease).

Her older sister Julie had died a few years later.

One day the Frenchwoman had styled Lady Summers' hair not with her usual braids and fourragères, but with a fashionable, beautiful and complicated style. It had been the last time – a farewell gift, maybe. Aoimoku was now the one to do her hair, as the Countess hadn't hired a new stylist. It just wasn't the same.

After that, they had died like flies. Some of the losses were worse than others.

The worst was Marie.

The cheerful and hardy Austrian day nurse had been one of her closest servants and the oldest of her half-siblings. And she had been her closest confidante, even closer than Aoimoku. But tough has she was, she had been the last of her deceased servants to pass on. Just a month ago, she had died at the age of 80 – the only one of her servants to die of old age so far.

Lady Summers had sat beside her elderly younger sister's bedside, as she had died.

“I know that you have lived a long time, but it still seems too soon”, she had whispered.

Marie had laughed faintly: “Now, now. Don't be sad, because it's over. Be glad, because it happened. I'm content. It was … a beautiful life. Being your nurse … and your little sister … was more than just … a great honour. It was a gift from Heaven.”

And with a last feeble squeeze of the Lady's hand, she had fallen asleep forever, smiling.

Just the memory made the Lady's heart bleed.

Of her over a dozen servants, only three were alive now: her butler Sameer Singh, her first lady-in-waiting Kurogawa Aoimoku and her driver Sean O' Connor.

Sameer, just like herself, hadn't aged a day. She attributed that to his Rakshasa heritage. He was more demon (or spirit, or whatever those beings were) than human. But it was a comfort, that he would always be there, her loyal butler.

Aoimoku was 71 years old now, but still held herself with a unique grace, elegance and nobility. The wrinkles and the grey strands in her raven hair had in no way tarnished her beauty.

Sean had gone from being her coachman to being her chauffeur, as Lady Summers had traded her coach for a car. Probably better. He was 76 now and his hands were too stiff from rheumatism to hold reins. His red hair had grown thin. Lady Summers dreaded the day when she would no longer hear his cheerful singing and see his goofy smile.

The only other one of her half-siblings still alive, was Alma, who was now sixty years old, but had never been part of the household. The half Irish, who had once caught everyone's eye with her fire red corkscrew curls, ice blue eyes, red lips and tall and slender figure, now looked more like a crazy old witch (she was even keeping cats – Aoimoku hated them).

Lady Summers sighed.

There were other losses she hadn't recovered from – maybe never would. Coping with loss had never been her strong suit.

Most of her friends and family had passed away as well and each loss had been painful.

Of course her former father-in-law, Lord Summers, was long gone. He had lived on to eighty-two, a feisty and kind old man.

Her brothers-in-law were also gone, the last tie to her first husband.

“Say hello to my darling copperhead from me”, she had asked his oldest brother Edward, the last of them to go – a hardy gent like his father.

He had responded with a toothless laugh and a twinkle in his eye (so much like James): “Will do.”

Gabriel John Utterson, her oldest and best friend in England, had passed away of old age fifteen years ago. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, his lover(s), had been left behind to grieve.

But the worst loss was Dr. Lanyon.

Her dear soulmate.

Shortly after the incidents in 1886, they had entered a morganatic marriage with Queen Victoria's permission.

But he had been a bit older than her without having her immortality.

And he hadn't wanted to be immortal either. She had accepted and understood, but it still had broken her heart.

He had passed away in 1910 at the age of 80.

He had been long ill before, so it had only been a matter of time. He had died awake and promised her that, if rebirth really existed, he would meet her again one day.

“Auf Wiedersehen … my lady, my love, my wife …”

It had been sixteen years now and her heart was still as shattered as it had been back then.

Lady Summers didn't know the future, like her dear half-sister and her old friend.

Lanyon had always kept his promises, but the lady just didn't know, when “one day” would be.

It could be tomorrow or in a hundred years and the thought was unbearable. Worse, her old friend Johann (who now called himself John in response to the anti-German sentiment) had implied, that it was closer to being a hundred years.

So the only thing she could do was wait … and grieve.

It was so quiet in her house… so empty.

It was unbearable.

“Sahib?”

Her butler's voice tore her out of her spiral of depression.

Sameer truly had the best timing.

“What is it, Sameer?”, she asked.

“Doctor Jekyll is here to visit you”, he announced.

Suddenly she felt a surge of relief.

“Show him in then.”

The butler left the room and returned with a tall, blond Englishman.

Dr. Jekyll hadn't changed at all – he was still the dignified, handsome gentleman she had met more than forty years ago.

“Hello, Henry”, she greeted him and stood up. “You have no idea how good it is to see you.”

They had been on first name basis for a long time now.

“Actually, I think I do”, he replied smiling. “Hello, Luise. I would ask you, how your day has been so far, but your facial expression sort of gives it away.”

She chuckled bitterly, but invited him to sit down.

“Do you want some tea and cake?”, she asked. “It's tea time anyway.”

“Yes, please.”

Sameer saw this as his cue to make his way down to the kitchen. He returned with a full tablet for his mistress and her friend, before seeing himself out.

“Do help yourself”, she invited, “My new cook is quite a good one.”

Dr. Jekyll was obviously a bit apprehensive, when he tried the muffin, but his face brightened up quickly.

“Oh, they're scrumptious!”, he exclaimed, “Your butler must have a really good eye for picking your servants.”

“He certainly does”, the Lady agreed. “Then again, he is part Rashasa. They can see and are aware of things that are beyond human comprehension.”

Dr. Jekyll chuckled: “I remember how you and he identified the impurity in my special salt. Speaking of which, I have never thanked either of you. Had you not found out, what was different in my first badge of salt, ohhhh boy! I don't know, if Edward and I would have learned in time how to properly share control of our body. Sooner or later he would have overpowered me without even wanting to and without the proper formula, I wouldn't have been able to transform back. And what's more, you two helped me learn to shift without my formula.”

Lady Summers nodded: “Yes, that was fortunate. Don't forget to thank him personally.”

Suddenly she sensed Mr. Hyde stirring inside Dr. Jekyll's conscience.

“Did somebody say my name?”, the androgynous, guttural voice piped up.

Dr. Jekyll just rolled his eyes, but the Lady smiled lopsidedly.

“Hello, Edward. Did you sleep well?”

“Eh, it was okay. Hi, Luise.”

“Speaking of sleep”, Dr. Jekyll spoke up again, “How has yours been?”

She sighed and didn't answer.

It wasn't necessary.

After more than forty years, the Doctor knew her so well … and he was one of the few friends she had left.

His face became sombre. “It's so quiet here without Marie.”

“It is”, she whispered. “It really is. Without all of them … and so empty …”

She didn't bother keeping her act up and broke into sobbing.

“I … I miss them so!”

Soon his arms were around her and she was crying into his shoulder.

Lady Summers didn't cry often. It just wasn't in her nature.

But she had been strong for too long now.

It seemed to be the same for Dr. Jekyll; at some point she felt his body shake and knew that he – no, she could hear Hyde sob too – that they were crying with her.

This way they sat, hugging each other and crying together.

They wept for their lost loves, their dearest friends and all the other familiar faces, which had one by one faded away, wept because they could never follow (they had promised to Gabriel and Hastie, that they would never end their own lives), because almost everything they had once known and loved was gone and because all they had was each other.

Sure, there were the three alchemists and Victor and Adam and they all knew the pain of losing someone dear. But these five had chosen immortality; they had wanted it, had strove for it.

Luise and Henry had never wanted to be everlasting, had never asked for this cursed existence.

When they finally stopped and withdrew, a glance at the clock told her, that they had wept for three hours.

“Are you feeling better?”, he finally asked kindly.

She nodded and blew her nose. “A little. And you?”

“Me too”, he replied.

“Me too”, Hyde echoed from inside Jekyll's head. “Holy shit, we three really needed that, huh?”

“Indeed so”, the Lady sighed. “Listen, you two, I have never apologised.”

Dr. Jekyll tilted his head in confusion. “Apologised for what?”, he inquired.

“For doing this to you”, she explained softly. “It's my fault that you're ageless and immortal now. I know, you never asked for this cursed existence.”

He smiled gently. “Hey now. We know you didn't mean to. In this moment, our life was at stake and if it hadn't been for your blood donation (and that of Gabe and Hastie), Edward and I would have died. And maybe … maybe it was supposed to come to this. Maybe it was fate, that Edward and I should remain on this earth and keep you company, my friend. Anyhow we're both glad that we can finally return the kindness and sympathy you have given to us all these years.”

“Couldn't have said it better”, Hyde agreed.

The Countess chuckled hoarsely.

Dr. Jekyll patted her hand. “You know, I'm glad that we three are together in this. I know what loneliness feels like. But when you and I can just sit together as old friends, the silence becomes so much more bearable.”

Finally she smiled back. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

A knock on the door made them look up.

In the doorway stood Sameer, with a table cloth, and the Lady's new nurse, holding a carafe of water.

“It's time for dinner”, the butler reminded his employer and laid the table.

The day nurse nodded. “And we saw you crying earlier, so we thought you might want some water afterwards?”

Lady Summers laughed: “Thank you two, that's quite considerate. We could indeed use some food and drink. Ah, and bring a second set, Dr. Jekyll is staying for dinner.”

The two servants nodded and saw themselves out.

Dr. Jekyll turned back to the Lady. “Isn't your new day nurse the granddaughter of your hairstylist?”

“Indeed”, the Lady confirmed, “She even looks a bit like Julie. But in her personality she comes more after her grandaunt Philippine.”

The Doctor chuckled: “Mademoiselle Desmoulins never truly left you, did she?”

“No”, the Lady answered fondly. “She didn't.”

“And you know what? Perhaps your butler is right about the reincarnation thing. I think someday we will see them all again, in one form or another. We just have to wait for that to happen.”

His trusting smile warmed her to the bottom of her soul.

Yes. They just had to wait.

All of their friends and loved ones would return one day, because true friends never truly left.

And then Luise's and Henry's homes wouldn't be quiet and empty anymore.

#The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll #henry jekyll #Mr. Hyde #edward hyde #ocs #loss #grief #mournin #comfort

[sparkles-rainbows-severed-heads]

Nazi-Hating, Bisexual King, and German actor, Conrad Veidt (1893-1943) whose performances inspired the creation of Edward Scissorhands, Jafar from Aladdin, and The Joker, was a gem in real life. Be like Connie. Do it for him.

Here’s some information on how great he was:

https://aikainkauna.tumblr.com/post/41163268378/ten-reasons-why-you-should-love-conrad-veidt

“In honour of Conrad Veidt’s 120th birthday, let us present you with a list of reasons why you should love him. Because, let’s face it, he kicked more arse than you ever will. While wearing your great-grandmother’s dress.

1. He was an awesome actor who could hypnotise the screen in both the silents and the sounds. He could do amazing things with his body language, his eyes and his voice and move like an actual cat. Oh, and he was Method before it became popular. To the point where his friends and colleagues would get worried because his entire body language and way of speaking would change. He genuinely believed he was possessed by some greater spirit when he was acting. And it shows. 2. He was an amazing human being—everybody loved working with him because he was incredibly polite and jovial and charming, but he was even more amazing off the screen. Let us tell you why.

3. This guy starred in the first gay rights movie ever and played the first explicitly-referred-to-as-gay character on screen, and the first sympathetic gay character on screen. In a movie that said it was okay to be gay and that some people were just born that way. In 1919. The makers of the film and Connie himself were flooded with death threats from the far right. They would arrange riots in theatres and release gas and rabid rodents into the aisles. But the makers of the film stood their ground. Later, the Nazis tried to burn all copies of the film but over half of it still survives and a reconstruction can be seen here.

 4. Oh yeah, and this guy also starred in an early pro-choice film, had a high opinion on women (with some progressive views for his time, when the right to vote and to wear trousers were still seen as new and scandalous things) and was a fierce campaigner for human rights and a vehement anti-Nazi for his entire life. Speaking of which… 

 5. In the Thirties, he starred in two British movies sympathetic to the plight of the Jews. While still a German citizen. Hitler sent him personal hate mail, Goebbels tried to persuade him into doing propaganda films for the Nazis instead and he told them to go stuff themselves. This was after some of his Jewish and gay friends had already been killed by the Nazis, too, so he knew exactly the sort of danger he was in. Oh, and they imprisoned him and tortured him with sleep deprivation and put him on the Gestapo hitlist. Guess what? He didn’t budge. He never raised his hand in the Heil Hitler salute, once. And when, finally, the British authorities helped him escape to England, he never went back to Germany again. Also? Despite being Protestant, he identified himself as Jewish on official forms as a form of protest. In. Nazi. Germany. I’m sorry, but Conrad Veidt’s balls»»»>yours. 

 6. He spent a huge amount of money supporting the British war effort and personally smuggled people out of the hands of the Nazis. Including driving his third wife’s Jewish parents out to Switzerland in his car under the cover of night after much bribery and passport shenanigans. In the Forties, he participated in a fund helping fellow Europeans escape Nazis and settle in the UK and the US. One of the people he helped was his Casablanca co-star, Paul Henreid. By the time Henreid had reached the UK, the war was in full swing and he was treated as an enemy alien. Connie (who had managed to acquire British citizenship just before war broke out) personally rang the British authorities and vouched for him until Henreid could finally cross the Atlantic to safety (with some monetary assistance from Connie himself). So, kids, when you watch Major Strasser menacing Laszlo in Casablanca, remember this guy actually helped him escape the Nazis in real life. 

 7. While living in London in the late Thirties, he and his wife would regularly shelter war children at their house. When the air raid sirens came on, he’d rather run back home to be with the kids rather than stay safe at the studio’s bomb shelter. No, really. And even when he’d left for Hollywood in the 40s, he would do stuff like this for the poor kids of London huddled in bomb shelters. You might need tissues. 

 8. He was made of actual sex on and off the screen. He possessed an amazing, androgynous sexual aura that would take no prisoners. He could be feminine without being effeminate, seductive and possessing and powerful without being gruff or macho, incredibly catlike and soft without being weak. Despite being skinny as hell and 6’3” tall, he was as graceful as a dancer, gliding around so smoothly it was uncanny, slightly unnatural (when Disney were making Aladdin, they deliberately based the cartoon Jafar on his performance in The Thief of Bagdad and told the animators to make him glide like Connie did. Yeah, that’s right, Disney villains were based on him. No wonder. No, really, look at that). From the Thirties onwards, he was repeatedly described as pantherlike. He had a sensuous, cruel mouth (always a little more red and open and wet than it should have been in order to be decent), large, pale blue piercing eyes (oh yeah, he was well-read in hypnotism and occultism, so he is actually hypnotising and possessing you for real), finely manicured fingernails (sometimes filed into sharp points) and a voice to melt knickers off anyone within a five-mile radius. When he smoked, it looked like he was giving oral sex to a woman and a man at the same time. Watch A Woman’s Face, The Thief of Bagdad and Dark Journey for good examples of this amazing man’s slinking, slithering, purring charm. 

 9. Oh yeah, speaking of the off-screen sex… Merle Oberon said “he would have sex with a butterfly”, Anita Loos quipped “the prettiest girl on the [Berlin] street was Conrad Veidt” and he was a major gay icon in 1920s Germany thanks to the aforementioned gay rights movie and his androgynous looks and style. Let us remember this guy spent his youth in Weimar Berlin and its cabarets, a modern Babylon where “anything goes” was an understatement. Drugs, wild parties and sexual diversions of every sort imaginable were the done thing in those days. You were considered unfashionable if you didn’t dress in drag and experiment with bisexuality. In that, he was hardly different from his peers (like, for example, his good friend Marlene Dietrich). But then again… there were people who experimented and there were people for whom it was all a phase, but according to numerous sources, he was a natural, voracious bisexual and so in love with everything feminine he genuinely loved to dress as a lady. And apparently he would fall in love all the time, so the Twenties were… busy years for him, especially when his second marriage had started to fall apart. Just don’t ask what he did to Olivier. And according to a couple of sources, Gary Cooper. Oh, and his first wife left him after she found him wearing her dress (her loss). Most of the time, his friends would describe him as a ladies’ man during the day, and going after the men as well after he’d had a few drinks in the evening. He seems to have calmed down a lot in the Thirties after he found genuine happiness with his third wife and escaped the Nazis to the UK, but apparently he was still an incorrigible flirt with both sexes until the end of his life. If you think he looks seductive and deliciously perverse on screen, that’s all real and then some. So, yep, this was a guy who was a genuine saint and an amazing human being and a naughty, naughty man at the same time. How often do you hear of both sides coexisting in the same person? 

 10. He was, basically, the last lingering sigh of Romanticism as a genuine cultural movement. On screen, he played the Gothic, Byronic hero to the hilt (The Student of Prague being one of the greatest examples of the type). In the silents, he played degenerate dandies, tortured painters and pianists and violinists, cruel yet seductive tyrants, men haunted by their doppelgängers, possessed creatures wanting to crawl out of their own bodies, sleepwalking and twitching and writhing on the screen, turning everything into a dark, exquisite ballet. In the sound films, he turned that demonic energy outwards and would pin people down with his gaze as he cursed them, would undress women with a flick of his pitch-black lashes, would curl his long fingers around their arms in a sadomasochistic, erotic stranglehold. He never completely lost his accent, but he compensated for it with pitch-perfect softness and tone, speaking very slowly and quietly when everybody else would speak loud and fast. His voice in The Thief of Bagdad was compared to poisoned honey. The MGM bosses were surprised at the mountains of fanmail he received from women in the Forties, even if they had never given him a starring role, only supporting, villainous ones. And the ladies wanted this villain, oh yes. A woman moviegoer (presumably after seeing his performance in A Woman’s Face) described him thus: “Conrad Veidt has wicked eyes, a sinister mouth, strange hands and a half-man/half- woman quality about him. His walk is frightening. There is something not quite normal about him. And yet, he was totally fascinating, charming and appealing to me at the same time!”

So, there you have it. There are many more reasons to love him, but it would take forever to try and list all of them. I suggest you watch his movies and read up on him yourself, because he deserves to live forever.”

#conrad veidt #do it for him #do it for her #the cabinet of doctor caligari #the cabinet of dr. caligari #the man who laughs #gwynplaine #casablanca #the hands of orlac

[archonfurina]

It's been super hard to deal with pcos and endometriosis lately, and I went into the tag to see if there's people who feel the same way. Then I saw someone ask if people with pcos identify as intersex and I literally just. Broke down. I experience so much dysphoria (? am I allowed to use the word?) because I hate, I hate what pcos does to my body. I'm a woman yet I don't feel female enough. I look in the mirror and I hate everything I see and I don't feel normal. Sometimes I wished I was nonbinary or androgynous or trans so I could feel at ease about the body hair, not having breasts to speak of, etc.. But I'm not, I'm really not, I just want to feel and look like a girl with my clothes off. Not being able to lose weight makes it worse. Having depression and anxiety makes it worse. I have pills that are supposed to help but I've been on them for less than a year, and my doctor said the symptoms will never go away, only lessen. So I'm forever trapped in a body I hate.

#pcos #it's no offense to people who talked about it!!!! I've been dealing w this since I was a teenager #💚.txt

[werevulvi]

My everlasting beard issue. I just need to figure it out sometime, and writing about it over and over is my best approach to do so. Deal with it. I had a pretty long time of feeling almost certain that I wanted it removed, until it changed again, very recently. Perhaps that's how it always will be, forever switching between wanting and not wanting it.

Deep down I really do wanna keep it, but on surface level I really don't like it.

I think it's possible that I just refuse to accept that I want to keep it, and try really hard to disconnect myself from it. I wanna live as a woman now, but having facial hair makes me being perpetually read as male. I deeply crave to just be read as female. The social hurdles of being a male-passing woman are grinding me down to the ground. But then deeper down I just wanna have whatever physical traits regardless if they make me look male or female, and be open about that my sex is female regardless of how I come across. I will always be female and I'm totally fine with that, but only if I get to be a woman in whichever way I so please.

Perhaps to be happily a woman, I need to stay masculinised, and keep all of the permanent traits that I got from the testosterone.

I am not immune to being treated like shit just because I now embrace my sex. Not being believed, being viewed as a threat by other women, keep being denied access to lesbian groups on facebook despite being as overly clear as I can be about my situation, being tossed out from women's locker rooms, etc, does get to me. It makes me claw at my skin, wishing to tear it off. It makes me grunt at my mirror reflection, wondering what the fuck happened to my natural beauty that I traded for a medically transitioned mess that I can't help but to hate to love, and love to hate.

Beneath all that extra hair I am still me. The little girl who grew up to this mess of a woman. The name I now proudly carry is the one my mother gave me before I was even born. She knew she was gonna have a daughter before I was even conceived, and I'm her first child. She's very intuitive like that. There is a lot of positive meaning to my name which I up until last year rejected and felt was misguided, but it couldn't have been more right.

No matter how far I've transitioned, how much or little I still resemble the girl I once was, I am still her.

No matter how badly I perform femininity, as if I learned to only be feminine in a way that is mocking my own sex, and no matter how awkwardly I portray masculinity, like a Barbie stuffed into Ken's clothes, what does it matter? No one is born with knowledge on how to dress or how to behave. Autistic people like myself are arguably even worse at learning such things. It's just fabric after all.

I've become better at standing my ground. Went to a bar in a foreign country a few weeks ago, dressed very masculine, no makeup, my short hair with sidecut on display. A presumably straight man attempted to hug and kiss me, and I swear I nearly scratched his eyes out. I didn't need to know the word for "no" in that foreign language to very clearly state my disinterest. He bounced off me as if electrocuted and didn't even look in my direction for the rest of that night. I felt a surge of confidence liberating me. I defended myself against a creepy man and won the battle.

The lesbian in me is proud as fuck, and so is the rape victim in me. That was a huge mental victory. It told me: yes, I can survive in the world as a woman, and I'll do it just fine.

I've lately been going to women's bathrooms like it's nobody's business. Just a quick glance at me and my beard shadow is very striking under such strong flourescent lights. I make no attempts to hide it other than shaving, and I don't care to, but it keeps me on my toes knowing it's so visible. Yet I keep thinking: so what?

What do I even want? Something impossible like being recognised as bio female despite my beard? Probably. But how much should I really listen to my social dysphoria? Isn't my body still far more important than how it comes across to random strangers? Yes, it is. My body is mine, not theirs. Who I am in a stranger's eyes might not be true. In fact, it's highly likely to be false, but that doesn't mean that strangers have some kinda right to argue with me about what my sex is. I damn well know what I was born as. It's not something I tend to forget. As soon as I get my legal sex marker changed back to female and new breasts, I'm gonna take it up into stride with the staff at my local swimming hall about that locker room situation. I'm technically a biological woman even if I look male. They have no right to bar me from the women's locker room and stuff me into the handicap locker room as if I'm an embarrassing inconvenience. If I had actually been a trans woman, which I'm pretty sure is what they assume, it would have been different.

They should have asked instead of assumed. I should have said something instead of quietly accepted. But I won't be silent forever. Right is right, and I don't like this kinda discrimination.

Sometimes it boggles my mind... how can they not see that I'm female? When I'm standing just centimetres/inches from their faces and being looked up and down. When I'm literally only wearing a bikini, or even entirely naked, and they still believe I'm male. When they state it smuggly as if they think they for sure just clocked a trans woman. People's clocking skills are so fucking broken, I almost wanna hand them my glasses! Makes me feel like some kinda double spy. It's eerie. As if I had lived in another country for many years before returning back home to Sweden, but no one believed anymore that I'm truly a native Swede.

Such has my detransition been like so far. Like I am back in my home country but everyone treats me like a foreigner. Have I forgotten my language, have I forgotten how to female?

I cling to my beard, I still do. Sometimes I get this strange feeling as if I "feel masculine" and those are the moments that I love being a little scruffy. That's when I tend to feel more connected to my facial hair, deep voice, body hair, etc. And when I "feel feminine" I tend to instead feel more connected to my curves, pussy, etc. Although I always like my pussy, curves, body hair, and always want new breasts just as much, it drastically changes how I feel about my deep voice and facial hair. That confuses me.

As I've stated before, I think if I hadn't been gender critical, I would have identified as non-binary. I know a lot of how I feel could be explained by that, but I don't want such a libfem loaded term. I keep seeking a realistic, logical explanation for how I feel. Perhaps I'm just very androgynous and maybe my androgyny extends to what could be called some kinda sex dysphoria which wasn't created by my past traumas. Perhaps I just like having a very masculinised female body, and perhaps the way I view my body is more important than how other people view it.

Perhaps I never actually want to grow out any significant amount of my facial hair. Perhaps the little bit of stubble that happens between shavings is just enough. Perhaps a small soul patch or a few hairs left unshaven is enough. Perhaps I just like having the total freedom of having any possible beard style, and am strangely proud of how dense and dark it is. Perhaps the act of shaving my face in itself feels like a very masculine and soothing ritual for me to do routinely. Perhaps beard care is something that hugely matters to me in terms of self-care. Perhaps there is a deeper reason as to why I dream of learning how to shave with a straight razor. Perhaps the skin issues I get from my facial hair can be solved without removing the hairs, if only I manage to drag my ass to a dermatologist eventually.

Perhaps I should really listen to that sadness I feel stabbing my guts every time I toy with the idea of removing my facial hair, like something deep within me doesn't want it gone.

Perhaps stroking my stubble on the days I skip shaving is important intimacy with my own body and feeling connected to it. Perhaps my ever-growing beard is a positive reminder to me that my body is alive and constantly rejuvenating itself, like the growing of nails and the caring grooming routine of cutting and filing them, and like the constant shedding of dead skin cells and new ones growing in the old ones' places. Perhaps my positive connection to my beard is more spiritual than looks-based. Perhaps I need to embrace it as a woman, no matter how hard it is socially. No matter how much I'd desperately rather take the easier route. I don't want to truly face my beard, but I know I will eventually have to, because I can't continue on like this. Something within me has been begging, urging and scratching at me to listen. It wants to tell me something that I am not mentally prepared to take in. I know it matters, so I won't ignore it forever.

Sometimes I put my feelings on hold when I'm not mentally prepared for them, but eventually I always take the call. Perhaps I should take that call now.

#detrans #detrans woman #facial hair #dysphoria #androgyny #social repercussions

[kennysatyr]

Rise Of The Damsel: Part 2

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of absent parents, transitioning, blood, insufficiant medical procedures, and death.

(Author Note: Sorry I haven't had a consistant posting schudeule I've been going through some things but for some reason finsihed this hope you enjoy it please like and share when you get the chance.If you want to join my crew just send me a message)

06/13/1999 10:56 AM She woke up in an unfamiliar place she had no clue where she was she remembered what the goddess made her do suddenly “Oh good you are awake” an androgynous person stood at the door they looked slightly older, red tattoo’s on their face, she is missing an eye yet her eyelid was sewn shut, no hair is wearing a blue kimono they walked slowly towards her “I came to retrieve you for meeting with the general” she was confused “Is this the-” “Yes it is dear Osirus told us you were coming, of course, we had to get the goddess out of you we let you rest” Khadijah got up walked towards the person then saw a mirror she was shocked by what she saw her old body wasn’t seen she saw a woman’s body instead of a man’s she had breast and female genitalia she started to tear up the woman behind her started walking up to her, “Osirus told us you desired a female’s body so while you were asleep we made you one” Khadijah looked at her and said, “Do you know how long I have dreamed about having this body?” “Are you pleased with it” “I very much am” tears started streaming down her face happy ones. 11:15 AM Khadijah and the person walked into a tent candle were lit a desk was surrounded by other people they were obviously debating with each other one noticed them “Our warrior is here” they all looked at them “Amaterasu bring her closer” they both walked closer to the table the people parted to let them through Khadijah looked around to see it was mostly women and androgenous people most missing eyes, hands and other parts covered in scars “Welcome Khadijah” she looked it was an older woman with a gold crown greying brown hair wrinkles visible on her face “You are at the lotus army headquarters I am the leader Hera” Khadijah immediately tried to bow Hera smiled “No need for that child let me introduce you” Hera pointed at the woman next to her “Amaterasu is the main leader of defense here” she pointed to a woman east of her this woman had lavender skin and dark hair “That is Artemis my left-hand woman her voice was taken during the war so she speaks in sign language” Artemis signed “Hello newcomer” Hera pointed to a caramel skinned woman with one eye scars covering her body “That is Sekhmet the goddess who possesed and brought you here” the woman nodded “Everyone else here is a soilder the empty seats are to preserve the memory of those lost” Khadijah didn’t know what to say “I know it is a lot to take in do you have any questions?” “No not at the moment” “Good now come with me and we shall discuss your duties here” she goes to open a curtain entrance and gestures for her to come in Khadijah obeyed Hera looked at the other goddesses “You are all dismissed” she closes the curtain. The room was like the previous ones just with more pictures on the walls and incense burning a desk lies in the middle of the room with a lotus flower engraved Hera sits down behind it and says “Sit down dear” she complied once again she put her hands on the table twiddling her thumbs she was nervous she didn’t know what she’d say to a goddess Hera has a stack of papers most were blueprints on her desk and looks at her “So are you enjoying the new body?” “Yes but ho-” “Most of us have experience in medical things and magic so it really wasn’t too hard and we like to cater to our soldier’s needs here” she put her hand on Khadijah’s and rubbed her thumb against her hand in a comforting way “now there is a reason I wanted to talk to you privately” “To tell me what my role is here?” “That and well I must ask a private question” She felt a chill go down her spine “How close were you to your mother?” she thought about that question she hasn’t been asked that question in years when she was young she used to be teased about it calling her “unwanted” and that her mom hated her and that’s why she left and she answered “Well I am not sure, to be honest, I never really knew her I only know pictures and stories of her from my father who tears up even thinking of her” the mood became melancholy “well I can tell you, me and her were close” she felt a small glimmer of hope, yet inquisitive “You saw how I had a chair beside me empty?” she nodded “Well that spot was for your mother” “Was she a mortal?” “Absolutely not,” she said firmly Khadijah looked down at her hands they somehow seemed different now “Now would you like the full extent?” she questioned herself, but so far the answer yes helped her “Yes” Hera breathed in and out “Well we do not know if she is dead or alive she dropped off the grid a while ago no oracles can find her, after the battle against the god Tezcatlipoca she disappeared” “How long ago was this?” “Four-teen years ago” she was shocked this was how long it’d been since she left her and her father how long it has been since she had felt a motherly touch she clenched her fist “What was her name?” “Morrigan she was the goddess of death, crows, war, and fate” “Didn’t death gods not be involved?” “Morrigan was a... Different kind and she wouldn’t stand for the inequality which made her perfect as my right hand” Khadijah was silent she thought about this she thought of her last memory with her mother her father begged her not to leave and her mother gave her one last kiss on her Khadijahs forehead before she left their lives forever “I’m sorry if this opened up a wound for you” Khadijah noticed that thinking about that made a tear fall down her face “It’s alright I shouldn’t have repressed this” “However she could be alive out there and you could meet her” “That is true” “Would you like me to change the subject?” “Yes please” Hera nodded her head let go of Khadijah’s hand “You first will be trained here to fight” “You are assuming I cannot now?” “Well if you can we will make you better then you were before we would make you indestructible” she was intrigued “Now you will be training with the war goddesses we have to offer and if you’d like we can also teach you magic and the secrets of it” “I can do without magic” “Alright then now any questions?” “Well one” Hera raised a brow Khadijah continued “Would I be able to go home?” “Well you’d have to stay till your training is done, mostly because of where the gods found you and we need to be cautious” Khadijah nodded “However we will have you stay in a tent here at the camp and I’ll have you have a visit with our doctor Dembe because we want to be sure what we will need to do to make you the best” she then slides a picture of a map of the camp and it was honestly bigger then she thought it’d be “Now I enjoyed this talk, Khadijah, but after you go home please promise one thing?” Khad looked at her “You’ll always keep contact with us” “I will,” she said in an affirmative way. 11:50 AM She had finally found her way to the medicine tent instead of a regular curtain it was beaded she pushed them inside she saw bones possibly human incense lit a bottle of rum a shelf full of bottles all of the different colors, a cauldron in the middle of the room “Lost?” she turns around she is now facing a woman a beautiful one her skin was dark but had light skin pigments that make her face look like she was wearing a skull piercing blue eyes “N-no” “You must be the new recruit” her voice was heavily accented yet sounded heavenly to Khadijah “Yes, I am are you Dembe?” “Yes, and why are you standing around? Come in” she grabbed Khad’s arm and almost dragged her to a chair on the side of the room and sat her down and immediately started putting her hands on her face, her hands were cold Khadijah blushed “Why are you, nervous child?” “S-Sorry I-i do not use to seeing” the woman raised her eyebrow “Seeing what?” Khadijah nervously “S-someone as beautiful as you” the woman smiled a bit and started to open Khadijah’s eyes “If I wasn’t doing a check-up I would’ve been more flattered” then opened her mouth “Good teeth, however” she immediately grabbed a pair of tweezers “Hold still this will only take a second” she then grabbed something in her mouth and violently ripped it out Khadijah immediately Yelped in pain “AHH” “Interesting” Khadijah looked it was a chip “H-how?” Dembe threw it on the ground and crushed it “Tracking device is weak” “T-Tracking?” “They must’ve put it in you while you were asleep” Dembe then proceeded to examine her “How do you like this body?” Khadijah was a bit thrown off “Hmm?” “You came here with a man’s body and now a woman’s how does it feel” “Tremendous actually” “Good you are actually one of the first where this ritual was successful here” Khadijah got confused “Ritual?” she started trying to feel Khadijah’s heartbeat “Yes the sorcerers here gathered to give you your proper body I assisted actually, but only in gathering what was needed because I can only bring back the dead” “Interesting” “What?” “Sorry I am not used to being around magic users” “With time you will adjust” “Hopefully I just found out why my mom left today after not knowing for fourteen years” “Well at least you know she had a reason my father just shows up for a while drinks some alcohol smokes a cigar then leaves,” she said as she rolled her eyes “Rough relationship I guess?” Dembe smirked “yeah right he barely has one with his own wife and djol kaka” “Your mother?” “Nope my mother passed a long time ago he still cheats on his wife constantly” “Oh” “How is your relationship with your father?” She hadn’t even thought of him all day “He is the only parent I have, but since I was a child he’s been nothing but supportive” “He sounds like a good one” “Very I haven’t talked to him in so long” Dembe nodded and said “Well your checkup is done and you are in good condition however I’ll give you something for your tooth” Khadijah forgot about her tooth Dembe walked to some cabinets started looking through her cabinets she pulled out a root “Ginger should help” she walked back to Khadijah and handed it to her “You could eat it or crush it up and make tea” “Thank you” “No problem” Dembe was about to walk away when “Since this is no longer a check-up-” “Yes I’d love to spend some time when I’m free” Khad was astonished “How did you know?” Dembe smirked “It’s not every day you find someone as pretty as you” Khadijah blushed.

#somberoutcast #khadijhaghali #backstory #kennysatyr #originalcharacters #originalseries #hera #sekhmet #artemis #lotusarmy #fanartaccepted #orginstory