#beth is kind of non-existant

[rubyreverie]

about fatine idrissi, my bau agent ☕📁

fatine found it hard to adjust to the bau, as she was transfered from a different unit in the bureau. she previously worked as a negotiator for bomb and terrorist attacks and replaced jennifer jareau briefly while she was on maternity leave from the bau team;

the team is a welcoming bunch, specially penelope, but fatine tends to be reserved and although she has no issues keeping professional relationships, the close-knit bond of the team intimidated her;

fatine has two sisters, one older and one younger.

fatine was always interested in the work the bau unit does, but felt as if her opportunity to join was limited. her current job kept her on her toes and led her to master psychology which proved extremely beneficial during her stay in the bau team. the crimes she was getting exposed to were very hard to swallow, but the new ways of using psychology and behaviour analysis to catch those criminals were fascinating to her. despite the team not needing a new profiler, fatine impressed agent rossi and the chief in unit decided to fight for her to stay in the team. unfortunately, fatine had to go back to her previous position until they found an appropriate replacement. once back in the bau unit, fatine quickly found her place with her peers and colleagues;

she becomes reid’s chess partner (fatine is only able to win him twice);

fatine’s mom often bakes for the team, premiering her work on fatine’s first official day;

rossi became fatine’s mentor and helped her fill in the gaps of her profiling, which allowed her to become an official member of the bau much sooner than anticipated (sorta how it happens with ashley);

the whole teams help fatine with her profiler training, but rossi is especially helpful, as well as emily. the unexpected here is aaron, who sometimes would give her tips and actually talk through cases as an example for what she’d be training for. both of them tend to stay late in the office, fatine doesn’t like an empty house and hotch is already part of the furniture. so the two of them would have had a couple of moments talking about cases;

having been a negotiator, fatine is good with words and often helps jj with the press and steps up to fill in her shoes once she is transferred to the pentagon;

fatine had a previous relationship that ended up neglected on her end, despite her loving that person more than she ever had in her life. he carelessly broke up with her after 8 years of being together, saying he met someone new and that he no longer saw a future between them;

hotch and fatine bond the latest, it’s hard to get past the chief’s walls (and rightfully so, after haley died such an awful death);

aaron and fatine’s relationship blossoms very slowly, as both of them realise they’re way too similar for their own good when it comes to work, while their differences compliment each other so seamlessly. small but significant moments happen between them that show their compatibility, which often takes each of them aback. hotch ignores, and fatine pretends it’s just their friendship growing and nothing more;

and fatine can’t ever take that first step, not after seeing haley dead in that room, not after seeing jack say goodbye to his mother at her funeral and how the memory of her lingers in every decision hotch makes in the year that follows;

fatine helps hotch with jack’s football team when rossi can’t make it. (she did it as favour once, twice, too many times);

fatine thinks she’s starting to grow weak as the years go by and showing herself be vulnerable in front of hotch makes her feel like she’s not enough for the job, for him. while hotch worries, and he doesn’t think she’s weak, he just thinks her heart is brave, and kind, and despite everything, fatine still has so much goodness to give;

towards the end of season 6, that’s when fatine’s feelings start to manifest. during the course of season 7, her feelings are solidified;

her arc throughout the series is to let her emotional side come out, become more vulnerable and actually rely on the people around her in her private life. let people in, spend more quality time with others instead of just burying herself in work, enjoy life’s small pleasures, smell the roses, get caught in the rain. this makes her a better agent and a better person. it also makes hotch fall in love with her, seeing her evolution, and seeing that side of her makes him proud, makes him want to get to know her more, makes him feel comfortable around her, makes him feel like he could learn a thing or two from her, makes him feel like he could lean on her too;

fatine is very close with all of the team, but i'd say penelope really puts fatine under her wing and therefore her relationship with morgan gets a fast track. especially once emily "dies";

her and spencer also quickly bond over books and despite the team finding his fun facts annoying, fatine appreciated them from the get-go;

emily really helps fatine out after she and peter break up. she hypes her up (the whole team does but emily's advice really helps) and talks her anxiety through. since both of them are single also, they bond over that and go for wine together a few nights a month;

morgan really encourages fatine to just get out there and by doing so it boosts her confidence;

fatine doesn't have much success in dating after her breakup. her job is too important and she's also not that interest in anyone she meets. her co-workers are more interesting and fun. and she's getting deadly curious about one of them to care about what joe from tinder thinks.

[augustjoy]

I’ve got you!

Based on the following ask: I want fluffy romance

It’s an Aaron Hotchner x reader (lmao daddy issues on fleek) anyways

I’d like to see like romantic tension building between them like it begins small but slowly gets bigger and it isn’t until reader gets into trouble (like say almost drowning because she never learned how to swim like my dumbass) that Aaron almost loses it a little and saved reader which makes him end up confessing to each other and they get together and it’s just fluffy romance because as much as I love the smutty stuff, I crave fluff so badly for my poor heart and for Aaron because baby deserves comfort too. Anyways Love you gorgeous

Aaron Hotchner x BAU! Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 2533

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, SLOW BURN, Age gap (non-specified), some explicit language, reader can’t swim, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description, canon typical violence, reader almost drowns, mention of Jack, Beth never existed in this okay!, mention of hospitals, team calls reader flower as a nickname! let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Your first impression of Aaron Hotchner was at a lecture at your university. Jason Gideon had been leading the BAU and Hotch had just been an agent at the time, but you had been captivated by his intelligence and the way he carried himself. He was so confident and had this strength about him that drew you in. Not in a romantic way though!

At least that’s what you told yourself.

--

Aaron’s first impression of you was when you had been hired onto the team through Director Cruz. Mateo had brought you along with your file and handed you off to Aaron, informing him that you’d be joining the BAU effective immediately.

Initially Aaron was annoyed, this kind of thing hadn’t always worked out in his favor, having agents assigned to his team without his approval but, looking at you and your impressive file, he knew he had to give you a shot.

Glancing over to you he took note of your beauty. It wasn’t the obvious fake filter-like beauty, but something more natural. You had this air of warmth that radiated off of you, it was the type of energy that just made you feel comfortable around someone. He couldn’t help but think that if he’d met you some other way, that maybe he’d have asked you out.

--

Things between you and Aaron had progressed organically. The two of you had grown pretty close, being one another’s confidant within the team. You weren’t together, but the amount of time you two spent together suggested otherwise.

It all happened pretty quickly.

--

“Does Hotch always stay late?” You asked.

“Uh, yeah pretty much.” Emily laughed.

“What about Jack? He doesn’t go home to be with him? I mean…I, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean that to sound judgy, I just meant like doesn’t he want to go home?” You stuttered.

“I’m sure he wants to go home to Jack. His sister-in-law watches Jack when he can’t, but since Strauss died, they gave Hotch a lot of additional responsibilities for this team. Things that Cruz never took back on, so he has nearly double the workload now that he did back then.” Derek explained.

You stood there stunned to silence as the others packed their bags to head home for the evening. You hadn’t even noticed them making their way to the elevator.

“Aren’t you coming?” JJ questioned.

“You know, I just remembered I forgot to get the file for that case we had in Minnesota back to Hotch. He’ll be pissed if I don’t turn it in before our days off.” You lied.

“Do you want us to wait?” Spencer asked.

“No, you guys go ahead! Enjoy your weekend!”

You sat back down at your desk, attempting to make yourself look busy while the other piled into the elevator. Once the doors had closed you made your way up to his office…unable to hear the others…

“She’s got it bad.” Derek teased.

“So does he.” Rossi confirmed.

You gently knocked on his office door and waited for him to permit your entry. Once he did, you pushed the door open slightly and peaked in, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence.

“Oh hey, what are you still doing here? I figured you’d have left with the others.” Aaron let a slight smile slip past his lips.

“I was going to, but you’re still here. It didn’t feel right going home for the weekend while you are still here working your ass off.”

“I’m the boss, I’m always here working my ass off. Head home, enjoy the time off. Seriously.” Aaron suggested.

“How about instead, I do whatever I can to help you get through your work a little faster and I order dinner for us. Would you prefer tacos or Thai food?” You pulled up your maps app to see restaurants that were nearby.

“You should-”

“Don’t even try to argue with me Hotch.” You threatened.

“Tacos.”

“Perfect.”

--

That night you helped Aaron double-check the case reports and cross reference them to make sure they were all filed properly. It allowed him some extra time to complete some administrative work and when your food arrived, the two of you sat and laughed while enjoying your tacos.

--

Garcia, Emily, and JJ were all clutching their temples while chugging down coffee in hopes to alleviate their hangovers.

Spencer and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at the girls and the fact that they chose to drink far too much last night, knowing full well they’d need to be up early to cheer on their fearless leader as he completed the annual FBI triathlon.

Dave waved to the others notifying them that he could see Aaron coming around the last corner.

“Wait where’s flower at?” Derek asked.

The team looked around to see if they could spot you, knowing that you would never miss this, given how close you and Aaron had become. Dave chuckled to himself and pointed over to where you were standing with Jack on your shoulders as he held up a large glittering sign.

Everyone cheered as Aaron crossed the finish line only, he didn’t stop to greet the team. He made his was straight to you and Jack, he assisted him in getting down off your shoulders and complimented the beautiful poster he had made.

“I had some help!” Jack replied, gently grabbing your hand.

You’d smile and wish Aaron a job well done.

The team would just watch from afar and wonder how the two of you could be so incredibly oblivious to the love you so obviously shared for one another.

--

“Wooo go Jack!” You cheered.

Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle at you, genuinely loving the bond you’d established with his son. It had started when Jack needed to spend a day at the BAU and you’d gone out of your way to get him snacks and print a few coloring pages for him. It had shifted to something deeper than that not long after. Jack would ask if you could come to the park with them or if you could help him with the poster for his dad or, like today for instance, if you could come to his soccer game.

You had packed up a cooler bag full of drinks and snacks for the three of you. Dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, Aaron had never thought you looked better. You’d been so casual and comfortable, and when you hopped in the passenger seat of his car that morning something stirred in Aaron. A feeling he wasn’t sure he was ready to feel again, let alone give in to.

“Did you see that? I made a goal!” Jack hollered running over to your waiting embrace.

“I did buddy, you were incredible out there!” You praised.

“Dad, can we all go get lunch now? And maybe then we can go see the new spiderman movie?” Jack pleaded.

“Oh – bud I don’t, I uh. I’m not sure that’s a good –” Aaron fumbled.

“I would love to, as long as it’s not an imposition.” You smiled.

“It’s not! An imposition, I mean.” Aaron clarified.

“Well then! What do you want for lunch Jack?” You asked.

You’d spent the rest of the day with the Hotchner boys, going to lunch and then seeing a movie. Which led to you offering to make them dinner, and building Legos with Jack, and then a nightcap with Aaron. He’d offered you his guestroom and then to drive you home first thing and given that you were both tipsy…you were quick to agree.

What you hadn’t expected was breakfast. He and Jack had gone all out with chocolate chip pancakes…things were feeling a little too domestic. When had things gotten so comfortable?

--

As the feeling stirred in both you and Aaron, you had begun to notice all the little things you did for one another. Things that had just become natural for you both in the time you’d known each other, second nature at this point.

You always slid sticky notes in your case files before turning them in to him. Sometimes they’d contain a doodle of something silly or a quote you’d read somewhere that made you think of him. What you didn’t know is he saved them all. They were tucked away in the back of his desk drawer, a neat pile of multicolored paper, serving as a reminder of how happy you made him.

Aaron shared similar antics…only his served in the form of your favorite tea, left on your desk each morning before the others arrived so they wouldn’t know it was him placing it there. Though they all had their suspicions anyway. Every once in while…usually after tough cases, or if he knew you hadn’t eaten dinner – which he’d know because you’d fall asleep mid-conversation via text – he’d leave a chocolate croissant…your favorite.

--

Aaron had almost let his feelings slip once. Dave had caught the internal battle that Aaron was facing, he wore it as a pained expression and tense shoulders. Dave had reassured him that you were alright and there was no need to worry, only that didn’t help much. You had gotten hurt, and that only proved that it could happen again. This was a dangerous job full of pain and suffering. Aaron realized he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.

You had been away on a case; the team had found the unsub and were closing in on him. You had rounded a corner in your chase and came face to face with the man you were after, and he had gotten the upper hand. He’d gotten a few good punches in and knocked you on your ass. Aaron had been quick to return the favor once he caught up.

That is when this need to protect you had grown all consuming. Aaron decided then to offer to train with you, in the hope of improving your self-defense skills a little more. And that is where you found yourself on Thursday evenings. Aaron and you would go to the FBI gym and train for about an hour before going to dinner.

This tradition sort of kept going…it sort of progressed from self-defense training to just working out together. An excuse really, an easy way of spending more time together without it looking too suspicious.

--

Dave had pushed Aaron time and time again, practically begging him to ask you out once and for all. To which Aaron always had the same reply; “She doesn’t feel that way about me and even if she did, it wouldn’t be appropriate”.

“You must be blind if you don’t see how much she cares about you. Or perhaps I was wrong about you being such a skilled profiler.” Dave chided.

“Excuse me?” Aaron was stunned.

“She is in love with you Aaron. You’d have to be an idiot to not realize, and even worse to keep yourselves from the happiness you both deserve.” Dave scolded.

Aaron sat with that for some time…wondering if Dave was right. Maybe enough was enough.

--

This case started out fine…but would quickly become both yours and Aaron’s worst nightmare.

This particular unsub had been murdering people with seemingly no connection. Disposing of their bodies at the South Coast Shipyard in Newport Beach, California.

The team had been working for days, trying to catch this guy. He was meticulous and stuck to his MO, not straying from his routine even the slightest. Spencer had suggested that he might have OCD.

That is what led you guys to the shipyard to try and corner him. Catch him in the act. You’d been on edge about being so close to the water…truthfully you’d always been afraid of it. And one night in a drunken stupor, you’d let it slip to Aaron that you’d never learned how to swim.

So, when Derek shouted out that you were FBI and Mathias Edwards took off running, you’d been a little nervous to chase after him. You’d do your job as expected…but there was a sick feeling in your stomach as you sprinted on the creaky dock.

It was just you Derek and Aaron at the docks, you had been checking things out, knowing that he’d likely be scoping out the area to see what boats were docked so he could find his next dumpsite. You hadn’t expected him to be there so early.

The three of you had split up, chasing after Mathias. You, thanks to all the training with Aaron, were quick on your feet, catching up with him quickly. You were running down a long straight on the docks, carefully avoiding any rope or ties holding boats in place when Mathias jumped out from between two boats, shoving you full force backward into the water. You’d immediately screamed, flailing your arms in a desperate attempt to stay above the surface.

Derek had been coming from the other direction and was able to tackle Mathias and was working to get him in cuffs. It wasn’t until Aaron came around that Derek even knew something was wrong.

“Where is she?” Aaron shouted. “Flower, where is she?”

Derek stood up, pulling Mathias to his feet and shoving him in the direction of the SUV. “Mathias pushed her into the water, I figured she’d swim around to the ladder at the end of the dock.”

“She can’t swim!” Aaron panicked, wasting no time jumping in the water to find you.

Moving swiftly, Derek secured the unsub in the SUV before running back to help Aaron get you out of the water. He’d found you quickly dragging you by your arm to the surface and lifting you into Derek’s waiting hands.

He’d checked for your pulse and when he couldn’t feel it, he began chest compressions. Aaron heaved himself out of the water and back on to the dock and pressed his ear to your chest to listen for any kind of breath sounds.

“Go call for a bus!” Aaron commanded.

Aaron took over CPR and leaned down to listen for your heartbeat once more. When he again heard nothing, he attempted mouth-to-mouth. He continued on like this for a few more seconds before you lurched forward, sputtering up the water that had entered your airways. Aaron helped you sit up and pulled you into his embrace.

“Oh, thank God.” Aaron muttered. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

--

You were taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital. They wanted to check your vitals and run a few tests to make sure you were alright. Aaron had insisted on riding along with you and held your hand the entire way. He was by your side the whole time.

“You can’t do that to me.” He whispered.

“What?” You rasped.

“You can’t scare me like that sweetheart. I don’t know what I’d do if we lost you.” His eyes brimmed with tears.

“The team would be okay.”

“Not them. Me and Jack. We can’t lose you baby. We need you; Jack loves you, hell, I love you too much, I don’t think my heart could take it.” You were both crying now.

“I love you too.”

[twola]

Sorta got carried away with the prompt list…(I must be ovulating because DAMN the pregnancy prompts got me going)

But #161, 154,151,140,125- where the reader is preggo and miserable walking around camp so the gangs giving out ideas (sexy time) and Arthur’s like ;) then later on the reader is like ya know what get over here.

Do with it what you will.

You do the best with anything you type!

Xoxo

Oh - trust me, I am into this.

I'm also eight months pregnant myself so I am SUPER into this. Am I projecting something here? Perhaps…

Pain Relief

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You are very over it at this point. Really. Very over it. It’s a struggle to get yourself out of the cot that you and Arthur share. 

The morning sun beats down on the worn canvas of your shared tent, and you know it's by some divine providence that Miss Grimshaw hasn’t summoned you to work yet. Or maybe it was Arthur snapping at her when he saw you struggling to carry a basket of laundry.

That must be it.

But a laze you are not - even now, when your swollen stomach makes any kind of movement difficult - when your sleep is nearly non-existent and the pains and swelling and overall discomfort are driving you crazy.

Pushing yourself up, you huff, annoyed that seven months ago you were chasing down bounty hunters on horseback and now getting up out of a cot makes you lose your breath. 

God, this was terrible. Finally getting around to standing up, you glance at yourself in the small mirror Arthur uses for shaving. Your chemise stretched taught over the swell of your belly. The dark circles under your eyes from lack of quality sleep. Sighing, you run your fingers through your long hair to tame it, or at least attempt to. After fighting with the fabric of your dress to cover your frame, you shove your feet into your boots and breathe out heavily as you sit back on the cot to tie the laces. God damn everything is a struggle with how swollen your belly is.

By the time you make it out of the tent, the midmorning sun beats down, and you shield your eyes for a moment before you feel a small tug on your skirts. You look down to see Jack give you a toothy grin, one small hand fisting the cotton of your skirt and the other clutching the most recent toy Charles had carved for him.

“Auntie, you’re so big! You look ready to pop." Jack pipes up excitedly.

You laugh as you hear a cluck of disapproval as Abigail follows in her son’s footsteps, “Jack - that’s very rude of ya - shouldn’t make comments about ladies like that.”

“It’s alright, Abigail,” You smile at her as she frowns down at the boy, “I do feel ready to pop.”

“Y’look like the baby’s dropped… ain’t long now.” Abigail’s eyes trail down to your belly as she shoos Jack off to play elsewhere.

“Too long in my opinion.” You roll your eyes and Abigail chuckles in return.

“Ladies!”

Susan Grimshaw’s voice cuts through the peace of the morning. Abigail’s gaze looks past you to where the sharp disappointment came from, and you frown as you hear footsteps stomp ever closer before the camp matriarch pushes into your view.

“There’s laundry to be done,” Susan eyes you up and down, “You can certainly sit and still do the washing. C’mon, get to it.”

She waves her hands at you dismissively, Abigail rolls her eyes and starts to head over toward where the other women have started doing the day’s wash.

You scowl at Grimshaw’s retreating figure, rubbing your aching lower back as you too make your way over to the edge of the camp, where the large tub is filled with soapy water and the pile of men’s shirts seems to be overflowing. You sigh tiredly, finding the stool 

Mary-Beth places her hand on your back slightly over your own, massaging gently as you sigh in a moment of temporary relief. 

"Try walking, I hear it helps. Tilly and I will cover for you for a few minutes.”

You thank her quietly and slowly make your way to the woodline of camp, taking a few minutes to walk back and forth before giving up and sitting down on the stool, letting out a long, labored breath as you wince in pain.

“Y’know….”

You open one of your eyes to see Karen across the tub, a mischievous look on her face. Cocking your eyebrow, you wait for her to continue.

Karen smirks, "You should try having sex."

Well - volume was never her strong suit. Across the camp, the men’s conversation falls silent as several pairs of eyes glance at you.

You flush from your hairline to your chest as you dunk a shirt into the tub, trying to ignore the stares you know you're getting as Karen merely chuckles.

“Aye, Arthur- sounds like you're needed elsewhere.” Javier chuckles and you're mortified.

You spare the quickest glance up in his direction, the man who got you into this mess in the first place. You can see Arthur’s smug grin from under the rim of his hat.

-

You silently scrub at the rest of the laundry load, handing shirts to Tilly for her to wring out and hang on the line.

“Don’t let her get to you, you know how Karen is. Tilly places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently to assure you before returning to the laundry. You sigh, taking another shirt and dunking it into the water.

A pair of boots land in your vision before a hand reaches down toward you. You look up to see Arthur ready to pull you up to stand, a gentle smile on his face.

“C’mon now sweetheart.” 

You sigh and take his hand, secretly grateful for the assistance to stand up. He steadies you before pulling your hand to his lips and pressing them to your knuckles.

“How’s about you lay down for a little.” He offers, holding his arm out to you as you wind your own around it, letting him walk you slowly to the tent, holding back the canvas for you to step inside. 

You let out a long breath, bracing your lower back with both hands for a moment before sighing. There was just no getting comfortable at this point.

“C’mere, let me help you.”

Arthur stoops down on one knee and loosens your bootlaces enough that he can pull them from your feet one by one. You let a breath out once both boots are off, unable to deny it felt good to get your swollen feet out of them.

“Better?” He looks up at you for a moment and you nod, your hand moving from his shoulder that you were balancing on to your lower back again, idly rubbing at near-constant ache that has settled there. 

Arthur stands up and places a kiss to your forehead before turning around and taking his hat off, placing it on the small table where he kept his shaving kit.

Karen’s suggestion echoes in your mind as you watch him run his fingers through his short hair absentmindedly.

You roll your palm over your distended abdomen, frowning.

“You don’t have to lie and tell me you want me.” Your voice cuts through the silence and Arthur swings around to look at you, puzzled.

“Darlin’, it ain’t a lie. It’s never a lie.” He responds softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Really? Lookin’ like this… it does something for you?”

Arthur blushes before looking down at his boots. “Well, I… uh... Yes?”

You quirk your eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips, “I’m a goddamn watermelon-”

“You’re pregnant-”

“Literally swollen up like a damn cow-”

“C’mon now darlin’-”

And damn, if you can’t hold back the tears from collecting on your eyelashes as you spin away from him.

His broad arms wrap around your swollen waist, pulling you back half a step and against his large frame. One hand spreads wide over your belly as you feel him press his lips to the top of your head.

“I… ain’t the woman you was chasin’ after anymore.” You admit with a cracking voice, the tears spilling down your cheeks as your hand falls upon his over your belly, “Who knows when I’ll be able to ride or shoot or do anythin’ like that again.”

His lips move from the top of your head down to your earlobe, where he nips gently. Arthur’s low voice rumbles in your ear, causing a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Whole world knows you’re mine -” He pulls you another half backward and you gasp as you feel the long, hard line of him against your rear, “Christ, you’re the most beautiful thing alive, all big with my child.”

“A-Arthur - ” You whine as one of his hands cups a swollen breast through your blouse.

“Have half a mind to keep you like this.” Arthur continues, his other hand moving downward to slide between your legs and the needy sound that escapes your throat is loud enough to make him shush you as he presses at your core through layers of cotton.

Your hands fly to grasp his forearm as he gently gropes at your breast, and you turn your head up toward his and he greedily pushes his lips upon your own, tongue pressing inside your mouth as you moan into his.

You have no idea how long it is you spend wrapped up in his arms - your hips pressing back into his, his hands groping at your breasts and cunt, your knees shaking as you pant into his mouth. 

Those damned hands of this, they keep you under his spell as somehow, he unlaces your skirts and they fall to the ground in a heap around your ankles. He spins you around in his embrace, and his lips fly to your neck as he opens the buttons of your blouse. You let him pull the sleeves down your arm, leaving you in just an old cotton chemise stretched tight over your belly. The seam of your bloomers, soaked, chafes delightfully against your cunt.

It’s only another moment before he’s shrugging your chemise down over your shoulders to free your breasts.

“What’s gonna be the best for you?” Arthur whispers into your ear, his warm, somewhat rough palm engulfing your breast, squeezing it gently.

Your head tips backward as you lean against him, a high and flighty moan bubbling up from your chest. “On- on my side-”

Your chemise flutters to the floor, along with your bloomers, his hands pushing the cotton down of your body.

“Go on, get in the cot and get comfortable.” Arthur nips at your ear again and gives a playful swat to your rear.

You nod, eyes falling from his face to his hands as he pulls his suspenders down his arms and begins unbuttoning his work shirt. You back up two steps to the cot, slowly sitting down upon it, your gaze refusing to leave him as he strips himself down.

With the speed of a man on a mission, he rids himself of his boots and the rest of his clothing and stalks the few steps to the cot.  You turn yourself over to lay in it, burdened by your stomach as you let out a long breath as you finally settle down on your side, facing the wagon that makes up the side of the tent.

Arthur slides into the small cot next to you, that warm, big hand finding its way to your belly as he situates himself behind you, pressing all six feet of his frame against you, his body hard, hot, and wanting.

“You tell me what feels good, darlin’.” He mouths against your neck as his hand retracts behind your hip to stroke his cock.

You moan lowly and press your hips back against him, you can feel his smile on your skin as he guides himself to your entrance. The blunt head of his cock presses into the rim of your cunt, and his hand moves to sling your thigh back over his, opening you to him more.

“Mm, that feels good.” Your voice strains as he slides himself deeper into you, a deep, satisfied rumble coming from his chest when his hips press fully against your rear, fully sheathed in your cunt.

His arm swings across your hips, pulling your thigh backward even more as he languidly rolls himself into you. His fingers find that small bundle of nerves as he nibbles on your earlobe.

You mewl aloud at the stimulation, panting as he continues to press himself into you. His low, rough voice whispers in your ear, vacillating from sweet nothings to filthy utterances. The slide of his cock into your cunt is the constant, grounding thing as his fingers that rub at your clit speed up and slow down.

“A-Arthur-” you pitifully whine, gasping as you huddle toward that precipice. He grunts into your ear as he slightly picks up the speed of his hips rolling into yours, still gentle. He pinches at that nub and you’re gone, your legs shaking and hips seizing as you meek through your release, your slick glossing his cock and dripping from your body, even with him filling you.

“Tha’s my girl…” Arthur slurs as his hand moves up to cup at your lower belly, “Christ, I ain't ever gonna be able to stop fillin’ you-”

His murmurs fade into a groan as he presses forward one final time, burying himself deeply in your warmth as he shudders his release into you.

You sigh in contentment at the feeling, warmth blooming from your joined hips. His lips touch the back of your neck as his large hand rubs gently at your hip as he catches his breath.

Arthur gently pulls out, you gasp slightly at the feelings of the loss of his flesh and the dripping of his warm spend from your body. He shushes you with a kiss over your jaw, rubbing circles over your swollen belly.

“Feelin’ any better?”

Your hand covers his over your belly as you lean back fully into his embrace.

“Much better.”

[storm-and-starlight]

so a while ago I saw this post going around that talked about, like, when you're picking names for genderbent characters, sometimes just going with the masculine/feminine version of their original name isn't going to work because the context and connotation is completely wrong, and I was like yes! good! excellent! but it used some batfam characters as examples and the name it picked for a genderbent Damian went so completely against the tone of the name "Damian" that I immediately went "nope I'm doing this myself" so uh. here's the Storm version of a genderbent Batfam + reason why I chose those names.

Bruce "Brucie" Wayne -> Elizabeth "Beth" or "Lizzie/Bessie/Buffy" Wayne OR Berenice "Bunny" Wayne Elizabeth, at least in my head, feels like the same kind of "classical english name" as Bruce -- it's well-known, not particularly tied to any one era, relatively formal, and makes sense for an old-money family that doesn't really have East Coast WealthyTM names (think Throckmorton). "Beth" feels like a good parallel to "Bruce" in that it's a short, workaday name, and there are plenty of silly nicknames for the ditzy socialite side - I am enormously amused by the idea of Beth Wayne, Batwoman, going by Buffy in public, but if that's too much of a reference "Lizzie" or "Bessie" also exist. Berenice, meanwhile, is on here largely because of the nickname "Bunny", which is even better, imo, than Buffy. Bunny Wayne. It delights me. (Berenice is. fine. It's a bit fancier than Bruce, imo, which may or may not jive with the tone of any given fic, but it probably wouldn't be my go-to.)

Richard "Dick" Grayson -> Dorothy "Dotty" or "Dolly" Grayson I pulled this one directly from the original post bc I really do like it and think it works well - it's all about the nickname. It needs to be something that was once a legitimate, unremarkable name that is now a deeply ridiculous thing for someone to unironically call themselves and Dotty and/or Dolly are about as close as you can get to that without it being. actual slang for penis. "Dorothy" also works well as a counterpart for "Richard": a well-known, somewhat old-fashioned name but one that's still in use in modern times.

Cassandra "Cass" Cain/Wayne -> Cassander "Cas/Cass" Cain/Wayne This is one where I actually do think just using the masculine version of the original name works quite well. Cassandra is a name from Greek myth, and given Cass's history and parentage, I think that that context is one of the most important things about how that name works with her character: it's a non-English name, pulled from a culture commonly treated as a "lost golden age of civilization", it's long, it's complicated, it's elegant and a little bit strange. "Cassander" was the name of a king of Macedonia, according to behindthename.com it's the masculine version of the name Cassandra, and to me it has that same sense of slightly eerie elegance.

Jason "Jay" Todd -> Jessie "Jess" Todd This one is more about sound and and vibes than anything else - Jason is a well-known, plain, fairly workaday name that gives me the impression of someone who is strong and no-nonsense, and Jessie (not short for Jessica) gives me the same impression, especially if she habitually goes by Jess in public. Also, they're very sonically similar, and I liked that.

Stephanie "Steph" Brown -> Sidney "Sid" Brown OR  Zachary "Zach" Brown I'll be honest, I don't know nearly as much about Steph Brown as I would like to, so this one is based mostly off of sound, nickname quality, and some context - Stephanie sounds relatively modern, to me, it's a name that wouldn't fit a pre-1980's character (at the earliest). I went with "Sidney" and "Zachary" because they both also have that relatively modern feel with a well-known short form. "Sidney" is here because it starts with S and I think "Sid" fits okay? with the character despite being pretty sonically different from "Steph", "Zachary" because it has a closer sonic feel to "Stephanie" despite the name "Zach" being a little further, vibes-wise, from "Steph".

Timothy "Tim" Drake -> Cordelia "Cora" Drake OR Theresa "Tess" Drake Okay, okay, listen. I know "Cora" sounds nothing at all like "Tim" BUT. in my heart. the name fits the character better than any others I could find. "Timothy" feels very Victorian Boy's Name (or like. animated movie about talking animals set in the 1920's/30's) to me, and in modern days it's a longer, very formal name that's basically never used full-length, but the shorter form is plain, well-known, and still very common. "Cordelia" was also popular in the Victorian Era, would be a familiar-but-uncommon name to most people, and having "Cora" be the everyday name I feel just. fits the character well. Theresa is on here as a closer-sounding alternative because "Tess" is the closest I could get to "Tim" without just stealing Tamara's name (although come to think of it, in an "everyone is genderbent" world just swapping Tim and Tam's names would be very funny), and it has that same "common short form of an uncommon, slightly old-fashioned full name" element, and because "Tess" is a better fit for the character than the other two candidates ("Tori", short for Victoria, or "Tilly", short for Matilda - I liked those two because they give me the same vibes as Timothy, but the short form is the more important part).

Duke Thomas -> Blue Thomas Okay. I know, this sounds nothing at all like "Duke", but again. in my heart. same vibes. It's a name that's very modern-sounding without being Trendy, it's a single syllable, it's a name that is also a common word, and just. idk, they feel similar to me. A little bit cool (in multiple definitions of the word), a little bit laid-back, like they'd both work as nicknames for a 1920's jazz singer. You get it.

Damian Wayne -> Alecto Wayne Yes. I know. Hear me out on this. The original name proposed for a genderbent Damian is what prompted me to make this post in the first place (and no I'm not saying it because I don't want to rag on OP too much) because Damian, as a name, has. just. so much meaning and so much context that is so important to my perception of Damian as a character. It's a Greek name, meaning "the tamer" - it's clearly non-English - it's strange and unusual and stands out among a modern American crowd - it's older, darker, dangerous - it's pulled from a long-gone civilization that for a long, long time was treated as one of the pinnacles of human achievement and yet was just as fucked up as any other society and often was significantly more so - and, most importantly, it is such an Edgelord of a name. It's the name of the overdramatic bad guy in a vampire play (not movie. play.) who stands in a tower drinking blood out of a jeweled goblet. It's a name given to a baby who was raised by assassins and the grandchild of an immortal assassin bent on destroying civilization in an attempt to make the world better. Damian is a sharp prickly pompous brat of a ten-year-old and part of that is looking down at a little kid with a sword with a name like Damian. It's just. how do I even explain this. it makes perfect sense for the League to have named him like that and it makes perfect sense that part of his personality is trying to live up to that and yet he can't because he's like ten. I picked Alecto because of all the names I found, it was the only one that gave me that same, immediate sense of "this is the name of a villain in an overdone fantasy novel, with over-the-top Meaning and Symbolism". It sounds Sharp and Strong and while recognizable, it's clearly not something people are typically actually called. It's Greek, meaning "unceasing" - it's the name of one of the Furies. I just. It works. (I know it's gonna get read as a TLT reference. I don't care. It's use in TLT is exactly what I mean by "it's the name of the villain in an overdramatic fantasy novel" tbh).

[youledmehere]

yellowstone has a ton of issues but something that bothers me is how the relationships between the siblings is next to non-existent. the most we get is jamie and beth hating one another, which fine we don’t expect much from that since they just rehash the same issues. but it’s like half the time they don’t remember kayce exists. i don’t even think he and beth have shared more than 5 minutes of screen time together. the only real good scene he and jamie had is when he assures him they’re still brothers. you could say this is intentional because he’s not as close to his family but after 5 seasons there has to be some kind of development happening instead of it still being jamie vs beth/john while kayce is stuck doing some random side mission that doesn’t add much to the plot. hopefully in the new season something changes..

[theundeadgospel]

the thing I love most about Beth is the fact each of her AUs are connected to the main storyline (COS) by just one mere immortal movement

that no matter what timeline she exists in, no matter the species or body, she is meant to stand for and represent the unity between mortality and undead. it’s why she ALWAYS has the same exact martyring feat — the same championship of a dead god, the same steadfast determination to sanction undead and demented, the immortality to keep coming back over and over again until she successfully unites the living and the dead. it’s quite literally her legacy and what she exists for — to be a gospel.

she either dies trying in a timeline or she succeeds. so far, she’s only permanently died once in a timeline attempting to get the townsfolk to see her ways — to which majority of the town agreed, but the corrupted baron wrongly executed her before she could get far.

it goes as follows with the pattern of over two years now

—

• Realms of Adventure / First debut in LARP : Necromancy and undead activity HIGHLY illegal. She converted to vampirism and attempted to get the townsfolk to see that not all undead and demented should be kill on sight, and let her being one prove it. The townsfolk gave her a chance — only for the corrupt baron to execute her in private, scared of his people backlashing him and denying his authority. Her martyring caused an ancient infernal being to sacrifice himself for the town’s safety because of the kindness she showed him. If he hadn’t sacrificed himself, more than half of the town would have perished to an explosion.

• Curse of Strahd (Homebrew) / Original timeline : The champion of Lord Myrkul, the God who houses necromancy and undead. Barovia is filled with loads of undead — and the townsfolk fear them with given reason. Some of them can’t be redeemed or are non-sentient. Paladins here are especially divine based and the Kelemvorites consider Beth kill on sight because she stood against a literal fucking God due to him spiting her kind.

She’s insanely steadfast with her endeavor in this timeline alone — she isn’t afraid of death, nor torture, nor the Gods. All she sees is unity and all she cares about is coming back as many times as possible to make sure her people are fucking safe. So far, she’s gotten a lot of people to accept her existence, and she managed to convince her faithful comrades to accept her POV too. One of which is the champion of Kelemvor himself. The other two are the chosens of Ilmater and Lathander. She’s spoken out many times to divine faiths in order to establish an alliance as a natural born leader. She also is the main factor to go to when it comes to Myrkulites and undead business.

• Warhammer / Continuation of ROA after being executed : Despite being malicious as all hell and batshit psychotic in this timeline, she still houses the demented and undead. More specifically, skaven. Another race widely hated lmao. She only associates with the dead and demented and does not mingle with the living at all. Unlike COS, where she accepts mortality too and wants to unite them, this timeline DESPISES mortality and considers them kill on sight. Desires a world with just undead since the living can’t act right and is killing off their own kind anyway.

• Sacred Grounds / Current LARP : A vampire descendent. Basically a daywalker. She’s a knight in training but heavily embraces her Scandinavian roots here and acts more like a viking than a death knight atm. The undead here are mainly sideshows — undead clowns. She’s a heavy advocate for them and Grobs, whom are just weird ass goblin people known to start shit and cause violence. This LARP has a dead three as well similar to Forgotten Realms — and of course, Beth is getting close to the God of the dead to be his gospel.

• Dragon Age : The newest verse and she’s a Mourn Watcher of course. Myrkul is still her faith and she’s still his champion, just on the down low because the Gods there are different in Nevarra. She mainly resides in the Grand Necropolis to watch over the undead there and is, as expected, fiercely protective of them and her allies.

—

what cracks me up is the fact that she almost always ends up romancing someone entirely opposite of her. like a fucking aasimar or angelic being when she’s heavily against the divine — but as long as they’re nice to her people, she can make exceptions. being with a divine being when you’re the standing face of necromancy is the biggest example of unity you’ll get.

[actiongrrl]

➤THE MUSE INFO SHEET !!

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

{Basics}

Name:  Samantha Elaine Giddings

Alias:  Sam, Sammy, Bird

Gender: Female

Age:  Verse dependent, Main; 19 - 20

Species: Human

Zodiac: aquarius / aries / cancer / capricorn / gemini / leo / libra / pisces / sagittarius / scorpio / taurus / virgo / unknown

Abilities/Talents:  General athleticism, cooking, problem solving, picking up random hobbies, professional buzzkill

{Personal}

Alignment: lawful / neutral / chaotic / good / neutral / evil / true

Religion: Agnostic

Sins: envy / greed / gluttony / lust / pride / sloth / wrath

Virtues: charity / chastity / diligence / humility / justice / kindness / patience

Languages: English

Family:  Father (Scott), Mother (Angela), Step-Father, Older Brother (Cody)

Friends:  The Crew™️ (Hannah, Josh, Beth, Emily, Chris, Mike, Matt, Ashley, Jess)

Sexual Orientation: heterosexual / bisexual / pansexual / homosexual / demisexual  / asexual / unsure / questioning / other

Relationship status: (Verse dependent) single / dating / married / widowed / open relationship / other

Libido: sex god / very high / high  / average / low / very low / non-existent

{Physical}

Build: twig / bony / slender / average / athletic / curvy / chubby / obese

Hair: white / blonde / brunette / red / black / other

Eyes: brown / blue / green / black / other

Skin: pale / fair / olive / light brown / brown / very brown / other

Height: under 3 foot / 3-4 foot / 4-5 foot / 5-6 foot / 6-7 foot / above 7 foot

Weight: under 100 pounds / 100-150 pounds / 150-200 pounds / 200-250 pounds / above 250 pounds

Scars: Right knee, hands, right thigh, back, forehead

Facial Features:  Green eyes, freckles on nose

Tattoos: IDK YET

{Choose}

Dogs or Cats?

Birds or Hamsters?

Red or Blue?

Yellow or Green?

Black or White?

Coffee or Tea?

Ice Cream or Cake?

Fruits or Vegetables?

Sandwich or Soup?

Magic or Melee?

Sword or Bow?

Summer or Winter?

Spring or Autumn?

The Past or The Future?

Tagged by; Stolen

Tagging; @jesvshotsaucechristmascake , @joshinyou , @prankdate , @spectrophobias , @frightmeister

[justcallmealt]

So, my work about Fau's distortion and how it happened. Also hint to how he got his e.g.o.

Warning: it's REALLY a lot of text

+ description of panic attack (not sure if it's graphical but still) and some little wounds

+ description of drowning, more graphical even it's just nightmares

+ Carmen appears what do you expect to go right?

+ Parahumans series reference. It's motto? "It goes worse!"

+ body horror, you were warned

And sorry if any of the canon characters will be ooc I'm bad at this (I'm good in char only to my OCs)

Kind of songfic, because if there's Alt, there's a song.

And please, don't hate any librarians till you read to the end, thank you

Sorry for some unreadable text, but it's important for the atmosphere

* - actually it's guan dao

** - I'm NOT using inches and American metric system

*** Fau's second name if you wonder

"What an curious little anomaly. And you're not here by accident, but on purpose. How interesting..." — The voice of that woman, Purple Tear, still echoed in Fausto's mind, reminding him that he didn't belong here, it wasn't his Earth Bet with such familiar, but at the same time distant parahumans and their superpowers.

Before attacks, Purple Tear looked at the librarians and their tacticians like a predator, ready to strike at the slightest mistake of the opponent, but at the same time something like a teacher, strict and cruel, but if you could survive this... He didn't know what to think. This tactic was almost reminiscent of his behavior on Earth Beth, when Fausto only had to rely on words and his Thinker power in few battles, but less so when Fausto didn't have to hide his powers in, well, a suit. It was also difficult to find colored glasses or glass here, but librarians could get "gifts" by suppressing guests, and when he found out about this, he was able to get several types of glasses: ordinary and black (although only one could be used in battles, not like his goggles, where the glasses were easy to change with one habitual movement of the hand and which were protected from the inside after the Shatterb...), using the fact that he was the last to wake up on the floor of the Social Sciences. Luckily Chesed was still an understanding and kind person (no longer that awful-looking boxbot and for good), he was able to gain experience, brush up his rusting skills a bit, and pick up some edge along the way. Although he lacked the familiar grip on the falchion*, that habitual hand-biting feeling at the slightest sign of panic. His armor was also missing, the pressure on the surprisingly pleasant, to the point of breaking, scales on the shirt below. Perhaps his armor was somehow different from the other, it seems that another set of Discord was worn by someone, if he is not mistaken, on the Hod floor, so he couldn't ask about this that time.

He usually wore glasses on his forehead, lowering them only immediately before receiving guests. The headaches weren't as severe or non-existent with moderate use, his habitual tactics weren't as conspicuous, perceived as trying to be cool (as in Winslow, where he had to pretend to be normal despite gangs that could, with one wrong look, destroy his life), if you take into account the fact that he was the youngest agent in the corporation, which Captain Devona or Sammer could joke about in a friendly way (or how he heard whispers from clerks behind him, discussing where he could get all these scars on his face and why he didn't work as a fixer with such skills at that age). He used to work with it so much before, making it almost second nature, hiding in plain sight to some extent.

With the deterioration of vision, there was a somewhat easier attitude. Because he tried not to use too much force and not get caught, the vision loss in his remaining eye had slowed down to a negligible level. If he was killed at the reception... A strange feeling, as if he had been before the Libr... It doesn't matter, some stupid feeling.

These thoughts always made Fausto's head ache. He hated this feeling. And how, after the resurrection, he did not remember anything after the defeat, except for a feeling of fear and something that he could not name. It was so different from being locked up with an abnomality in a book, being able to see what was happening, feeling everything as if in a dream, being aware of the information.

After Fausto, the Librarians in general, or even the Patrons were resurrected by the power of the Library, none of them showed any damage, which added a bit of honey to the tar. But intuition suggested that only he felt after the resurrections so strange that it was not something to talk about with others. The feeling of déjà vu and that he was missing something important that he could never find, not without someone else's help.

From Purple Tear, like other Color fixers like Red Mist or Blue Reverberation when he was scouting the situation in Library, there was an air of strength, power, so nostalgically reminiscent of the Earth Bet and the Triumvirate, only different in being not like that, more ... Supernatural.

Travel through dimensions, as she herself said. Not that the rest of the Library understood it as the Purple Tear herself, or at least him (not sure if it's correct, but hey, it's better than nothing), but on Earth Bet it was common knowledge.

The original Earth Aleph, the professor who created the door and made contact with the Earth Bet, twenty-two portals, hidden and guarded from the civilians, how they received some films, books or computer games from the Earth Aleph and so on. Such a familiar and once disgustingly boring part of recent history was now saddening. Fuck, what would have happened if he'd stayed there instead of accepting that forced offer? Could he live on another Earth provided he didn't approach the cape's business at all? Sometimes this questions still plagued him, when the loneliness became unbearable, when he was caught in small details only to end up unimportant because of his corrections or lies, or when his "luck" gave him a short break from all this encryption at every conversation. If only he was better...

The blue color that was everywhere on the Social Sciences floor was supposed to be soothing, but sometimes Fausto caught himself thinking that calmness was replaced by nostalgia for the coast of Brockton Bay, how he missed the bitter-salty smell from the Bay, not enough warm, wet and a little snowy weather in winters , no matter how terrible and rotten the city in which he was born was. There was less fear. Leviathan's attack still made him shudder sometimes in his sleep, waking up silently from nightmares where water was everywhere, he couldn't get out, his breath was not enough, when the reflex breath escaped only to bitter and icy water made him choke, the pressure of the thickness was unbearable , squeezing it and making it choke harder, making him feel like the chest is squeezing the organs, especially the lungs. The cold from the water was awful. Sometimes it was nightmares of flying shards of glass biting into his body, the pain was almost real. Sometimes his scars would throb and burn like a fire as a reminder. Sometimes it was just the color and texture of the floor space that made Fausto feel panic attacks. He could get distracted when reception of the guests happened, but their floor was used for this a little less than others, especially the floor of Languages under the auspices of Gebura.

Fausto took a deep breath, hoping no one heard what was said to him, that everyone took it for them and not specifically for him. The page he was equipped for the battle was unequipped and he could relax a little in his body and the form of the floor.

"Fau! Please wait for me!" — Familiar voice, his floor colleague, who came to the Lobotomy Corporation on day 50, not quite familiar as Fausto would like, but if he remembered correctly, his name was Adam. He had woken before him, but nonetheless seemed ordinary, if not seen in combat, where they weren't as different as wanting to survive.

"Of course. Did something happen?" Fausto slowed his pace, allowing his fellow librarian to catch up.

Adam looked out of breath, his usually beautifully styled purple bob was disheveled, and he himself was breathing rapidly.

"Didn't think you'd hear me at all, tall man," the violet haired smiled contagiously, causing Fausto to smirk slightly at the corner of his lips. Despite his age of twenty, he was tall compared to most of his colleagues.

"Why is this?" He asked politely, not really expecting an answer, and continued walking towards the stairs to either go down to the Hod or Malkuth floor, or go up and help someone on the upper floors if he was unlucky and noticed. Chesed didn't mind the behavior of the librarians as long as they were normal about it and helpful. Perhaps it seemed to Fausto, or Chesed realized that Fau sometimes felt uneasy in this environment.

"I can't keep up with your big steps with my small legs." Adam explained, gesticulating emotionally.

"Aren't you only a little shorter than me," Fausto narrowed his eyes, trying to determine the height of the interlocutor by eye, but did not succeed very much, "ten centimeters**?"

“Not all of us are given high growth. And in my opinion, it’s fifteen,” such an answer made Fausto raise an eyebrow, but in a second he realized that it was another, hidden with a prosthetic eye behind the hair and changed his expression.

Adam didn't answer, and they came to the stairs in almost awkward silence. But as soon as Fausto was convinced that none of the patron librarians was going to show up or go in his direction and was ready to go to the lower floors, Adam broke the silence.

"Where are you going? Isn't it interesting on our floor?" That question threw Fausto off balance.

"No, it's just..." He hesitated for a moment, torn with the urge not to reveal himself and to explain at least something so as not to arouse suspicion, before continuing with a weary sigh, "I just need to take a break from the blue. Not really good memories."

"Oh, sorry for asking that question in this case," Adam looked guilty, but Fausto just brushed it off, "And which floor are you going to? The Engineering floor?"

Garza*** just shook his head.

"No. I don't think I'll be able to look at purple in the next few hours after doing this with the Purple Tear and her teleportations."

"Is it because of what she told you at the reception?" - This phrase was said as if by accident, but caused an instant response.

Silence. Fausto could have sworn everything stopped for a second. The thought flashed through his head that he could not be mistaken here. If he's lucky, it'll just be written off as a joke or forgotten in a bunch of cases. But there were no distractions he could use. He mustn't make a mistake.

"What do you mean by that?" He gave Adam a thoughtful look, hiding his too-fast-beating heart and the unnatural immobility of some muscles under his usual tone and bored look.

Adam shrugged. His bright pink eyes peered into Fausto's reaction.

"She was focused on you for the first part of the battle. You have something similar, but I don't know what. And why did she call you an anomaly?"

Too close. Need to calm down. Pretend that she was mistaken and confuse the interlocutor, put him on false trails, chasing wild geese. What to do here? His body treacherously froze as he pondered the answer.

"She could have been lying. Besides, she hurt me quite badly in the beginning, why shouldn't she be focused on attacking? Unless..." He recalled how much the corporation employees loved rumors. This could be his chance and saving straw for his bluff, "Couldn't she have mistaken me for her son?"

Fausto feignedly widened his eyes, hoping that this trick would work. Adam frowned thoughtfully, forcing him to believe for a second...

"I don't think so. That's not what she was talking about and that's not what I meant. Your attack styles are somewhat similar, but..."

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. Fausto turned to see the two librarians from his floor. He didn't hear what Adam was explaining now. They followed him. And now they realized that he noticed them. As Adam, who suddenly fell silent, also noticed.

"What does all this surveillance mean?" Perhaps his tone was too dry, but he barely paid attention to it. The sharply pounding heart in the chest did not improve the situation, as did the distant pounding of blood in the ears.

“Fau, listen. We noticed that you have become less frequent on the floor with us and more and more distant. We just want to understand and help,” Acacia, one of those who followed him, began to explain, as if trying to calm him down, but she was interrupted Cosmo:

"What does it mean that you're an anomaly and not from here? What about your other oddities?" Her normally emotionless tone this time was full of suspicion, weighing on her emotions uncomfortably.

This means that his thoughts about this all this time were correct, and all his successful cases and avoidance of an answer were not forgotten. It forced previously frozen muscles into a fight-or-flight corporate readiness mode, no freeze that could lead to a fate worse than death.

"What's wrong with that? Do you rather believe the guest to be received and pry into my story that I don't want to remember because of all these injuries?! I have my own reasons!"

Anger mixed with fear. He began to see red, processing every movement of his colleagues as if instantly, waiting for the inevitable reaction, a blow.

"No, wait!"

"We just want to help!" - Two voices: Adam and Acacia tried to bring him to feelings, but Fausto focused only on Cosmo, entering into confrontation with her views. Adam moved away from him, noticing an overreaction to the approach, namely Fausto's tension. Cosmo remained unmoved.

"Maybe it was worth trying to discuss it with us instead of hiding?" Cosmo raised her voice, going on the offensive. Perhaps there was meaning in her words, but now Fausto did not hear it, absorbed only in his own mistakes.

"You want this?! For me to have another panic attack like Leviathan or Shatterbird attacks?! You want me to show all my cards?! No, fuck you. Just! Leave! Me! Alone!" He broke into a shout, oblivious to the curious looks of the librarians from the floors below, who had come to inquire about the source of the sound.

Silence. Realizing what he said, Fausto immediately came to his senses. No. No. Nonononononono. Now it's over. Now he... No, he wanted to live. He didn't want too many questions, or questions in general. But now it's all his fault. The pounding in his ears became unbearable. He failed. He failed. Damn it, he didn't make it. Everything seemed to stop. The pounding of the heart was replaced by white noise. Tense muscles reacted without his participation. The habitual reflex of childhood and adolescence eclipsed everything.

Run.

And he sped off.

***

Fausto did not know how long he had run. He followed his extraordinarily heightened intuition, skillfully dodging and hiding, taking advantage of every advantage of the situation in pursuit ("•_• Translation error?...). Perhaps he was not pursued, but his wildly pounding heart spoke of something else. To safety. Away from them. Where could he hide, even if only for a short time. How he wished he could turn back time and stop those words from escaping, instead telling another lie that others would gladly believe. But... Would there be any questions left for him?

Intuition suggested that here he could hide for a while, which he did. It looked like it was one of the upper floors, he wasn't sure which one, despite the colors, now looking a little faded.

But if he had said something else, would he have been safe? His excuses would have been remembered, and sooner or later this situation would have happened. No. Even in the Library, where Angela was the director, an android who broke the Head's taboo by her mere existence. No. Not safe. Nowhere. Nowhere nowhere nowhere nowhere nowhere.

Fuck, if he only knew how to keep his mouth shut, he wouldn't be in this situation right now. Or not, would be, but later.

Fausto wrapped his arms around himself as he slowly lowered himself down the wall. His forearms hurt from his own grip, and his body began to shake violently. These were the consequences, only of his actions and no one else's. So why was he so scared? Why couldn't he move more, again, instead being stuck in his own thoughts? Soon he would run out of hiding power, or run out of space, given the possibility of other librarians or even Angela joining the search. He will soon be found, he will have to run again, but he will not be able to leave the library, he was tied to this place after the collapse of the Wing L and the subsequent days of light until it became dark. No. What will happen to him now? These are not the words that he will be able to hide from, he will not be able to escape like in Brockton Bay.

Another spiral of thoughts was interrupted by someone's gentle voice:

-"Child, can you hear me?"-

"W-who are you?" - the voice could not stand something louder than a whisper, the throat, compressed from all these negative emotions, simply did not allow it.

-"Does it matter now? What do you want?"-

What did he desire? The only thought that raced through his head was safety. But fear didn't help. Trust this voice? Why should he?

"Who are you? Why should I trust you?" There was no one around, a quick glance around the area made that clear. Who was he talking to then?

-"Perhaps you've heard my name somewhere. I'm Carmen, child, and I know that you are Fausto, and you didn't come here of your own free will, and that you didn't want to feel any of that."-

A gentle voice, from which only kind red eyes appeared in Fau's head, caused another attack of fear. It was what he feared the most after being in the City. If anyone else found out about this, their life would be ruined given the possibilities. What will they do with it? If someone finds out about his superpower, what will happen to him? It certainly wouldn't be safe and put the Fau at risk. Only his consequences...

He didn't know anyone named Carmen, that name just didn't add up. Intuition didn't respond, and neither did his powers when putting on his goggles, showing no threads of emotion or action other than his tangled light blue, cold and wet. There was no one there, and yet he heard a voice. It didn't feel like a memory about his Trigger, which was confusing. The lungs involuntarily contracted, the feeling of squeezing made him think of panic attacks that had not occurred for a long time.

-"Child, it's okay not to know any aspect of our lives. Please don't be afraid to speak up, I'm not the type to give your secrets to others. And if you want, you can not share your secrets and fears, I won't judge. Isn't it Wouldn't you like to live without this fear?"-

Such words were reminiscent of Coil, but how could someone with such a kind voice have terrible intentions? The body felt like after an electric shock, involuntarily causing the compressed lungs to gulp air. Stranger's abilities. Of course, it wasn't just the abnormalities here or the capes of his world that had strange powers. He must not believe, he must not, he must...

-"Please, can you explain what you're talking about?"-

Did he speak out loud? No, panic must have gotten the better of him. But... What did he have to lose now, knowing he couldn't escape? He began to speak, listening to any rustle, his heart beating in his chest like a small bird caught in the dark capture of a predator, and fear made its way up from his chest, through his arms, to his numb fingertips in an icy wave. So little time before the inevitable. He remained a coward after all...

Why does it always have to be him? It's so unfair...

"Where I'm from... Some have superpowers. Different. Strangers affect how you perceive things. They can be dangerous, but they'll be like your best friends until your belly is ripped open and you're still smiling, not seeing the trick."

Fausto took a sharp and noisy gulp of air, catching his breath.

-"Why do you think I would do this? I can't influence the real world in full understanding, only guide others with advice. But the outcome should always be chosen by the person, not by me. Shouldn't your opinion in a conversation be on an equal footing with opinion of the interlocutor?"-

He would have chuckled at such a statement, but the rustle of other people's steps, along with the voices of others, made him frantically search for a place, hide and be silent, waiting for the slightest rustle of the soles of someone else's shoes, a hint of other sounds except his heartbeat and quiet, but hoarse breathing, to finally leave. He had been doing this for so long, since he was a child, and he doubted those skills would ever rust or go away, not with his appearance there, not with his secrets here.

As soon as he knew that everyone was gone, intuition prompted it, almost drowned out by the fluttering of his heart, Fausto continued.

"If everything was so simple, then there would not be much in my life. There would not be so many situations on the verge of life and death, there would not be my forced work for the Coil, the persecution of heroes if I was in the field of view after those robberies not according to my will, battles with the Endbringers," His throat closed sharply at the mere memory of the sound of a loaded gun pointed at his head, a conversation where he could not even defend his opinion and an unexpected rescue. It would not have been his work in the Lobotomy Corporation, there would not have been his fallen comrades-in-arms who did not wake up in the Library...

But the voice seemed to understand the direction of his thoughts.

-"Poor child. Wouldn't you like this to end? So that you can finally be safe, not haunted by a past you can't control? All these actions... It's not your fault, child, and you shouldn't blame yourself for not having choice or power to change something. Aren't you tired of running all your life? Maybe you want to forget about all these horrors?"-

Something in that kind voice pulled him, wished that this would finally end, that it would all fall into place. But Fausto himself... He didn't know. No more. If he had a chance to forget everything... What would he do? Would it be worth it? If he accepted it, what would be the price? What about others?

The voice answered patiently, without reducing its warmth, as if reminding of someone far away, but... About whom?

- "The decision and the price depends only on you and your judgment. If you do not want, then I will not judge or interfere. If you accept this ... It is not for me to judge your price, nor for me to condemn you. Take your time, child, I will wait until your choice."- The soft intonations of this voice somehow resembled a mother, not his, those he read about in deep childhood, which he dreamed about all this time, hiding from drunken anger, and after and "friends" of his mother, having learned his lesson with his blood and his broken nose.

Two possibilities hung in front of him: frightened and panicked, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But... Would it really be worth it? Just forget about it and be safe? And How? Was it even possible? His intuition was silent as he teetered between choices, feeling himself walking on a thread over an abyss.

Footsteps approached from both sides. In the echoing voices, he recognized Roland — patron librarian of the Keter floor, whom he had helped with sorting books once or twice. Fau's heart sank sharply, and it felt like it had missed a few beats. They talked about him.

"Mm, how did you manage to lose your friend? There aren't many places to hide. Or you could ask Angela instead of me." Roland's tired voice was spiced with curiosity and slowly approached his location.

No. No, no, no, there was nowhere to run from here, he couldn't do anything. Even if he resisted, it was most likely not just Roland. Indeed, the patron librarian of the Keter floor was answered by Adam's voice.

"He was surprisingly fast and zigzag like a drunken hare. I swear we didn't expect this, we just wanted to talk, but Fau was too fast. What if he's a spy for the Head and that's why he did it? What if he's just a misguided Arbiter or even Color? Perhaps we acted too directly and therefore scared him off and were too harsh? Angela... We were a little scared to ask her after what we did."

Adam's rantings were interrupted by the usually little emotional and firm voice of Cosmo:

"He hid too much and acted suspiciously. If he chose to run instead of answering, then he could act dangerously in the future and put us at risk. The conversation was necessary, sooner or later."

Roland answered, and Fau couldn't quite make out the tone.

"Mm, it's all understandable with the four of you. Could be softer."

Is this what they thought? Is that what they thought about him all the time, regardless of the fact that he worked longer than some back in the Corporation? Fausto ignored Roland's reply, removing his hands from his forearms and clenching his teeth and fists tightly, digging painfully into his skin with his nails until blood oozed out. On the other hand, they were also approaching his location, only their voices were not heard, but the steps, one person, echoed in space. There was nowhere to run. He has led himself into this trap.

-"Child, you don't deserve this. What they're talking about... It hurts you, doesn't it? It's not your fault."-

He just nodded silently, barely holding on to this emotion and the feeling of pain in his palms. The mixture of fear and anger was explosive: Fausto wanted to answer these accusations, hurt them with words and unleash all the accumulated barbs, even if he deserved it. On the other hand, fear wanted him to shrink into a ball, invisible, hide, wait until this storm passed by and then slip through any gap that opened, any gap and hide as far as possible, to any tiny place, curl up into a ball and not come out until he can physically react to any stimulus, until he is mistaken for dead.

"How much longer can he hide? We searched almost everything!" There was a familiar annoyance in that tone that made the fear triple in intensity. No, please, not that tone, what did he do to deserve that?

The whole body was reduced by immobility from the sharply surging memories of childhood. The ones where the bridge of his nose was broken and after the hospital he had to hide to the best of his childish strength. Please let this be just a nightmare. The chest heaved rapidly in frequent and superficial breaths, and the air again began to lack. W-would he never run away from that tone? Why does it always happen like this? Does this mean that it will again be painful and bad?

They entered the library room where he was hiding. Still far from him, but already noticed. No, please no. Fausto's gaze was fixed only on Cosmo. Her gaze, as always, expressed little emotion, but now it was dominated by only irritation. Not anger, but irritation. It wouldn't hurt as much if he just avoided the blows, but his body was numb again from the other eyes, completely immersed in memories, all the way down to Leviathan. Then his numbness saved him, but the sight of so many mangled corpses that just recently were still breathing and laughing... But this is not Leviathan, there is nowhere to hide.

Noticing his condition, Adam was about to say something, but was stopped by a slightly tense Roland. Fausto did not take his eyes off Cosmo, trying to step back, but only bumping into a wall. Trying to defuse the situation, Roland began:

"Ugh, listen. You don't have a problems, you just have to explain something in front of your friends, nothing more. You're not in any trouble, bud."

Friends? It didn't feel like friends. Even his so-called buddies in Winslow were nothing more than acquaintances with whom he seemed to be a normal and more or less cool guy, just so as not to slide into the place of a victim of bullying, no more, not to be like Taylor Hebert, who then turned out to be supervillain Skitter, exposed in Arcadia by two heroes. Here...

Knowing that this situation was hopeless, he silently whispered:

"Please help me to be safe, please."

A gentle voice answered, still warm, and with a kind of sadness that was elusive for him, but at the same time with almost maternal love:

-“Then follow the Light, Fausto. May you find what you desire, one way or the other."-

And he did it.

Everything has changed. He didn't hear Adam's subsequent sigh, didn't see Cosmo's and Roland's widening eyes. It's like... Faded. Then there was the crackling of glass.

***

Adam was shocked. They couldn't have made thi... No, they were the ones who had driven Fau into a state of panic, and now he towered in front of them like an ice statue. His decent height for most librarians from the Social Sciences floor has grown even higher. No, they really shouldn't have done it. They shouldn't have tried to open other people's scars, because now instead of their curiosity and awkward attempt to help, Adama and Cosmo met the consequences. If Acacia or the other librarians come here right now without equipment, there could be nasty deaths.

His conspiracy theories simply helped to brighten up time and cope with anxiety, he did not want to cause harm, especially this. He didn't want Fau to be afraid of them. Perhaps all of them should have noticed their colleague's anxiety when talking about the past and taken it into the plans instead of approaching the problem from the bad side. Oh Wings, they weren't even really watching, they just wanted to come one at a time and it so happened that Fau spotted them at the wrong time.

But at that moment, he clearly saw Fau's fear in his not hidden under the bang eye, how he looked at only one point, as if into nowhere, concentrating in his thoughts ... What did they do? If he really distorted, does that mean the Fau won't be back and will be turned into a book forever? What will happen to their Floor? Can they be an effective team after what they've done? Then... If they had to fight and win, wouldn't the price be too high?

Now Fau towered over them, even when they were all at a distance, changes in his colleague were noticeable. What a second ago seemed like a crack on the bridge of the nose had grown and something came out from there, now, instead of the face, Fau now had a hexagonal crystal that turned from light blue to dark purple in especially shaded places. The crack remains. Fau's hair lengthened dramatically, its tousled ends floating, revealing first the scars on his colleague's face, and then the face-replacing crystal solid with finer cracks on the sides and bottom, replacing the scars on some visible scalp. The crack that they had heard earlier turned out to be scattered into hundreds of glass fragments of various shades of hands. On the shoulders now was something like a pile of broken fragments, growing in different directions right from under the skin, tearing through the T-shirt and soaking it with blood. These fragments either broke away from Fau's former hands and soared in the air, then settled back, forming a terrible likeness of a tree crown: transparent, light blue, dark blue, green, yellow, red, and even several orange and purple fragments of various shapes and sizes rustled in air, occasionally touching each other with an unpleasant sound. For some reason, the Fau's head ended up with goggles, like swimming goggles, but with deep dark blue shards of glass instead of normal lenses, too strange for a normal model, what were they even for?

They definitely shouldn't have pushed like that.

Cosmo, being more attentive, noticed something else: a red thread coming from the center of Fausto's chest, no, not red, dyed red. On the neck one could see a trace of compression by this thin and most likely sharp thread, and in some places the beige colors of the trachea and possibly bones could already be seen. The way the scars on visible skin grew grotesquely larger; how something separated from the eye socket a second before crystallization; how on his clothes a ball of threads became visible on his chest, the same red ones as on the neck, only more voluminous. And it seems that part of the glass from his hands began to merge into something, still floating in the air. Yes, it did not seem: part of the glass of the same colors began to form crystals, no, rather, figures similar to crystals. In the name of the Wings, what is all this supposed to mean? Why couldn't he use words and speak directly to them instead of squirming and dodging questions? Why couldn't everyone just answer honestly? It was so annoying...

Cosmo clenched her fists, preparing for battle and getting ready to equip the page. He will need to hammer in some common sense, as they did with Angela when she resonated with the Library on the lower floors, after which he will answer questions and there will be no more innuendo. She could only hope so. People couldn't just lie all the time, right? If they won't lie they won't hurt other feelings so much worse, right?

Roland tensed. It's... Seeing the Distortion phenomenon live was unpleasant. At one moment there was only one Fau, with an unpleasant crack on the face in the area of the most noticeable scar on the bridge of the nose, and a second later the sounds of changing alien flesh were heard and in front of them was Distortion. It was distortion—it wasn't like all the times Angela had resonated with the Library. There wasn't a whole floor shaking, there wasn't that cool whispering sensation in the back of his head, it just wasn't an instantaneous process. Yes, that would definitely be a problem, and Roland could only hope it wasn't his problem. Thank you, no, he's already fought enough without his self-imposed choice.

***Roland wondered if all these little librarians, along with the patron librarians, could be... Truly real people, not projections of dead people created from the Light by Angela. It almost made him feel sorry. Too bad it's not enough. His plan still needs to be carried out. Not now, but when he can... Roland won't stop. He knew it.***

***

Everyone prepared, if not for battle, then for readiness to escape and return with reinforcements. But... The distortion didn't attack. Fausto seemed to be unresponsive to anything. Perhaps it can be returned normally in another way?

The three looked at each other. Fausto still did not move, instead bowing his head to his chest, and remaining in that state. Cosmo wanted to come forward. Adam shook his head, wordlessly urging her not to do it so hastily. Cosmo seemed to agree with this, as far as the short and decisive nod could tell. Adam exhaled sharply and exchanged expressive glances with the others as he stepped forward, suppressing signs of hesitation. Now is not the time for his anxiety.

Fau reacted by raising his head sharply. The crystal surface was now looking straight at Adam, and he swore he could see his own reflection in that crystal. The Librarian stopped, and Fau didn't react.

"F-Fau, please tell us what we did wrong? I swear we didn't mean to put pressure on you like that, we didn't even want it to look like that to yo..."

His words were interrupted by a torrent of shrapnel that hit the spot where he had stood a second ago. Only his quick reaction saved Adam from serious injury. Fausto did not speak - he had no mouth. However, the words reverberated through everyone's heads, causing a slight throb in the back of the head and temples.

P҉l҉e҉a҉s҉e҉ ҉l҉e҉a҉v҉e҉.҉ ҉L҉e҉t҉ ҉m҉e҉ ҉s҉t҉a҉y҉ ҉w҉i҉t҉h҉ ҉t҉h҉e҉ ҉o҉t҉h҉e҉r҉s҉ ҉i҉n҉ ҉t҉h҉a҉t҉ ҉a҉t҉t҉a҉c҉k҉.

Fausto's "voice" seemed to echo from the surrounding space, both unnaturally high and startlingly low sounds were present in it, as if several people were speaking at the same time.

"What do you mean?" Roland tried to ask, but he and Cosmo had to dodge, although this time the pieces were moving... Faster?

L҉e҉a҉v҉e҉.҉.҉.҉ ҉L҉e҉t҉ ҉m҉e҉ ҉d҉i҉e҉ ҉i҉n҉ ҉t҉h҉a҉t҉ ҉a҉t҉t҉a҉c҉k҉.҉ ҉I҉t҉ ҉w҉o҉u҉l҉d҉ ҉b҉e҉ ҉b҉e҉t҉t҉e҉r҉ ҉i҉f҉ ҉I҉ ҉d҉i҉e҉d҉ ҉t҉h҉e҉r҉e҉ ҉a҉l҉o҉n҉e҉.

The tone was starting to hurt their heads. The three people looked at each other again. This seems to have affected Fau too much. It's like... He couldn't get out of the past.

Then... Roland nodded, stepping back... And getting no response. He quickly retired for reinforcements and possibly Angela.

Fausto made no move. He didn't even seem to be breathing, completely becoming a statue in his sorrow and memories. Only... Anyway, even in his inaction there was something wrong.

W҉h҉y҉ ҉d҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉l҉e҉a҉v҉e҉?҉ ҉E҉v҉e҉n҉ ҉i҉f҉ ҉I҉ ҉s҉u҉r҉v҉i҉v҉e҉,҉ ҉S҉l҉a҉u҉g҉h҉t҉e҉r҉h҉o҉u҉s҉e҉ ҉9҉ ҉w҉i҉l҉l҉ ҉b҉e҉ ҉h҉e҉r҉e҉ ҉s҉o҉o҉n҉.

The words of their former colleague made no sense. Both Adam and Cosmo braced themselves for another dodge when Adam asked the question:

"Wh-what do you mean?"

Predictably, another attack followed. And immediately after it, the second, stronger one, from which Cosmo, who did not expect such quick actions in her direction, could not evade. A splinter cut her cheek almost to the bone, she briefly gasped, reflexively backed away towards the exit. Fa... The Distortion laughed bitterly, causing the two's heads to throb in pain. But there was a note of pain in that laughter that they couldn't understand. Distortion's laughter was like the soft tinkle of glass: pleasant, but if you listened to it too long, it would suck you in painfully, forever immersing someone's gaze in a continuous mirror.

Y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉o҉ ҉n҉o҉t҉ ҉k҉n҉o҉w҉?҉ ҉E҉v҉e҉r҉y҉o҉n҉e҉ ҉k҉n҉o҉w҉s҉ ҉b҉e҉c҉a҉u҉s҉e҉ ҉i҉t҉'҉s҉.҉.҉.҉ ҉W҉h҉o҉ ҉c҉a҉r҉e҉s҉.҉ ҉T҉h҉e҉y҉ ҉w҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉s҉p҉a҉r҉e҉ ҉a҉n҉y҉o҉n҉e҉ ҉a҉n҉y҉w҉a҉y҉.҉ ҉L҉e҉a҉v҉e҉ ҉m҉e҉ ҉b҉e҉f҉o҉r҉e҉ ҉i҉t҉'҉s҉ ҉t҉o҉o҉ ҉l҉a҉t҉e҉.҉ ҉N҉o҉,҉ ҉i҉t҉'҉s҉ ҉l҉a҉t҉e҉.҉ ҉Y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉d҉e҉s҉e҉r҉v҉e҉ ҉t҉h҉i҉s҉.

The way that Distortion spoke of it... It seemed to be unaware of what it was saying, lost in its own grief.

Adam, ready for new attacks, again asked what Fau was talking about, but there was no attack. As there was no answer. Fau froze again, only the hair fluttering in the non-existent wind proved that he hadn't become the full statue he had been before.

L҉e҉a҉v҉e҉.

One single word before something red oozed from the cracks in the crystal. Not blood, no, they were very familiar with blood. This liquid... It differed in appearance, although it was red. There was no characteristic odor, the liquid quickly rolled through the crystal before a light, too light for blood, drop fell onto the Distortion T-shirt.

An unfamiliar voice was heard, soft and enchanting, not like any person in the Library, or a person in general, could have:

"What's wrong, Fausto?"

What was that voice? Who said it? Who was it anyway?

The unfamiliar voice was neutral, but soft and gentle, reminiscent of a lost home. There were no notes by which it would be possible to determine whether this voice belonged to a man or a woman.

Cosmo reflexively turned her head towards the source of the sound, only to see an unfamiliar face: dark-skinned, with strange markings on both cheeks under the eyes, with white hair gathered in a low and long ponytail. The stranger's eyes were closed and there was a soft half smile on their face. The stranger stood behind her, not close enough to attack, and who knew what the human was up to. The stranger wore strange clothes, even by the standards of the City. Everything from a white and silver shirt with a long hem and wide sleeves at the ends, fastened with two top buttons and pants with a strange flare to what seemed absurdly massive black lace-up boots with high soles compared to the stranger’s height, it seemed strange. All this appealed to some primitive feelings inside Cosmo, the remnants of the genes of the ancestors of people screamed about danger. Only Adam did not seem to feel this sensation of trembling and small goosebumps crawling along the spine and small hairs standing on the back of the head, chills on the skin, the same whispers in the head as when trying to talk with F ... Distortion, but talking about what kind of a predator is watching you. And whether you survive depends only on the decision of this sentient predator. It could even be a Color unknown to both of them, such an aura did not come just like that. But it was different from the aura of Purple Tear or Red Mist... How were they supposed to deal with two problems with just the two of them? If only Adam had noticed this and stopped staring at the stranger's belly like that, and stopped looking at those six pack abs, if he was looking in that direction at all and not into the void, they were actually on the brink of battle.

The fragments flew past her and Adam only to attack the stranger, but they dodged: too fluid movement, which is more typical of either dancers ... Or people who have dedicated their lives to combat and weapons. The second option was really dangerous. How could a guest appear in the library without an invitation? And what in the name of Wings did he want here? She would have bristled, but the stranger's actions weren't hostile, and weren't even directed at her and Adam. The stranger only focused on the distortion and ignored them. Or so she thought.

F-fuck, why can't she move?! It will definitely cost her dearly, won't it? Come on, move at least a finger, break out of this hypnotized state before... Before... Even if the stranger's movements were like a strange dance. She is stronger than that, there is always logic on Cosmo's side, and she rarely betrayed her in contrast to the feelings and actions of other people, leaving her alone in tears. So why can't she move?

***

Adam seemed to be fascinated. Something in him was drawn to this stranger, this warm, homely aura, but Adam knew that this aura was not directed at him. Something in the form of this human was too graceful, as a large cat can be graceful, stretching in a warm place. Something about the stranger seemed unsuitable for the City, heavenly. Adam just couldn't find the right word for this feeling. Where could this person come from? What did they want to do with the Fau?

As soon as the swarm of shards flew past the evading stranger, Adam realized what was wrong: there was no wind in the room, but the hair and long hems of the stranger's shirt seemed to float in the air. Or was his vision simply deceiving him? But Fau's hair was also floating. Was it related to his distorted colleague?

The stranger chuckled at the attack: Adam could have sworn the chuckle was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard in his life, so sincere and echoing off the bookshelf walls. Adam shook his head. Something wasn't right.

"I guess you're out of sorts, aren't you? It's okay if you don't want to talk," half smile in keeping with the soft and almost... Parental? the tone of a stranger could surely make any person stop being angry. But... Fau barely reacted physically, remaining still and sending more fragments towards the stranger, this time splitting the glass and attacking the white-haired one from different directions in succession, who still dodged with amazing ease.

Part of the glass began to fuse into something... He didn't know what it was supposed to be, but this forming thing looked like it was Fau's full height now, which already looked creepy. Hah, he was not so frightened by the abnos of the HE and sometimes WAW levels as now he was frightened by the silent and distorted Fau.

The white-haired human avoided the attack again and again. It was like some kind of dance, not an evasion of possible death. Something on the verge of life and death, more poignant than what he could describe in all his years of life or a day working in the Lobotomy Corporation. Were all high rank spotters that strong? Was this stranger even a fixer?

Adam didn't know if Cosmo felt the same way, but he couldn't move, mesmerized by the stranger's dance-like movements. Fau was in no hurry to attack him or Cosmo while they were both frozen like that. Was Cosmo also motionless like him? Adam glanced briefly at his colleague, only to find her in the same frozen state as himself. It might be the worst decision of Adam's life, but he really didn't want to break that illusion, even with the possibility that because of their inaction, they might be killed here, even if it was only temporary.

G҉o҉ ҉a҉w҉a҉y҉.

Fau's words didn't seem to have the same effect on the stranger as they did on them. The white-haired one tilted their head to the side, playfully saying:

"Why? Is this what suits you? Do you really want this?"

Fau didn't respond. No sound could be heard, only the hair of distortion hovering as his only movement. But finally the pieces formed this something. Resembling a white porcelain hand with a light blue pattern at the top and turning into claws made of rich dark blue and transparent glass, sharp even for a fleeting glance, this hand was definitely dangerous. Only the stranger did not react to this. It seemed that the white-haired did not even feel a drop of danger from the Distortion, on the contrary, with each dodge, the stranger... Approached?

The "hand" of the distortion twitched upwards, fingers soared into the air to pull on something invisible for a moment, and now the two librarians could see many threads of various colors, for which the distortion was trying to pull, focusing on a single target.

Viridian green thread, a rope woven of dark blue and silver, scraps of bright orange with red spots, black twine with a strange tar-like liquid, pink silk fabric, golden threads, a chain of silver, as if burned and severely torn at the visible end - all of them were visible from the stranger's chest. But what did they mean? Sharp fingers tugged at the chain, pulling the white-haired one closer and sending a swarm of fragments at the target.

W҉h҉a҉t҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉.҉.҉?҉ ҉H҉o҉w҉?

Perhaps in the emotionless voice of the Distortion sounded ... Fear? The distortion took a step back, slumping against the wall again, reflexively shrugging its shoulders. The stranger who noticed this clearly did something, otherwise there was no explanation why the stuck fragments were released and now hovered around the body of the Distortion again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." “Why did the stranger even apologize to the distortion?” What would it even give?!

Suddenly, the white-haired waved their hand and said something. Only no words were heard. As well as it was not audible the answer of the Distortion. Oh Wings. This will definitely be a problem.

***

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again, okay?" Alt tried to ask the question as gently as possible. He might have to lower his guard this time. Not that there were many entities that could harm him. The pain wasn't so bad. The pain couldn't have been worse than the time he'd been burned alive by his own flame. This is Fausto and they couldn't hurt him. Not in this condition.

Fausto stepped forward slightly, but did not attack.

W҉h҉y҉ ҉d҉i҉d҉ ҉y҉o҉u҉ ҉d҉o҉ ҉i҉t҉?

Fausto's voice was different. Not in the sense that he looked like his Cie... Falso Cielo, no. In front of Alt was a soul almost torn apart, capable of breaking from any touch, and this voice for them, practically representing the Wind and freedom ... It was a silent plea for the slightest help. Therefore, they limited the hearing of the witnesses, leaving them like that, preventing them from leaving or provoking Fausto. He could have let them pass out from lack of oxygen, but... Perhaps they softened and allowed the witnesses to live an extra hour. But if they were dear to Fausto, what then?

Alt involuntarily began to hum, answering Fausto's question. They hoped that he could hear the echoes of the music.

"I don't want to hurt you."

I'm falling through the hourglass

And I don't think I'll ever take it back

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb

Victim to the sand of time,

Falling through the horglass

The hourglass

They could speak words as much as he wanted, but sincerity was always only in the song. Let it always take time - Alt had plenty of that. Almost a millennium of existence has made it possible to rethink and understand so many things.

Cause that's what I can feel

P҉l҉e҉a҉s҉e҉ ҉d҉o҉n҉'҉t҉ ҉l҉i҉e҉.

"Why do you want it to be a lie?" It was a simple question, but it bled liquid over the crystal that hid Fausto's head. Perhaps it was better that Alt was blind, otherwise they would not have seen, with ordinary eyes, few could understand it, that this salty red water is the cry of a wounded entity, all the tears that were not cried and the severity of the pain.

Fausto trembled. Invisible to the human eye, before sending out more floating glass shards in the hope of defending himself. Those threads that Alt could not see, but could feel - they were tied to Fausto as well. He could almost feel the quickening breath of the Distortion as they dodged again and again without attacking. No. They could not harm this Fausto, more Sky than the one who saved him years ago and raised him in a lie. No. He was almost like the members of the Alt's Famiglia —an equally precious gift. They would have loved to take this Fausto and introduce him to others - the way the little Alfie being ignored by their relatives, the way he later adopted William, Alfie's boyfriend, with his story. How he accepted everyone, letting his loyalty take root in everyone, vowing to protect them to the best of his ability. He couldn't hurt any of his lovely chicks, no matter how threatening he seemed when meeting William.

I'm falling through the hourglass

And I don't think I'll make it back

So I throw stones at walls I'll never climb

Victim to the sand of time

I'm falling through the hourglass.

The hourglass.

Cause that's what I become

(What I become)

Now. Alt rushed forward with a sharp jerk, closing the distance between themselves and Fausto. But instead of attacking, they wrapped their arms around Distortion, letting go of their air defenses and feeling shrapnel pierce their back. It doesn't hurt that much, all their nerves are used to pain. They can heal it in less than half a minute.

"It's okay. I can't hurt you, Cielo." He could feel Fausto's trembling under his arms, they could almost feel the fear and his racing heart. - You're safe.

Salt water dripped onto his shirt. It doesn't matter, they can always wash or replace. Fausto did not respond to the hugs, so they slowly and gently, trying not to startle, stroked the distortion on the back, and then on the head. Again and again, not letting the hug loosen.

There was a door next to it. Intangible, but Alt could still feel the texture of wood soaked in salt and weathered by the ocean winds of Brockton Bay. Slowly, he got up and walked through that door, already knowing how to help.

Inside was a room that looked like a shelter for civilians. But instead of being peaceful, this room was flooded, and in some places floating corpses could be seen, obviously people who had been killed a little earlier. In the corner of the room, behind a pile of broken glass, curled up in a ball, was Fausto himself. He was wearing the civilian clothes he wore on the day of the attack, before things went awry. Fausto was sobbing—silently, barely breathing in and out—probably the first panic attack. A variety of threads twisted around him, but Alt could not see this, just as they could not see the environment, feeling only the icy sea water in their boots and bottom of the trousers.

Alt approached, slowly sitting down next to Fausto, trying not to touch the other at such a vulnerable moment.

"Fausto, please listen to me. I'll try to help you now. You don't mind if I touch you now, okay?"

Fausto barely moved, but he managed to give a barely perceptible nod. Alt gently placed one hand on Fausto's shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. The white-haired one started stroking the other's shoulder in circles.

"Listen to me. Try to breathe with me, okay? Inhale and one and stop, two, three, and four - exhale" - all this was said in a soft tone. The grounding warmth from Alt's hand and the slow pace seemed to calm Fausto enough to make his breathing rhythm more steady, but that was still not all.

"Can you name five things you see?" Fausto hesitated, his eyes fixed on the floor, as he tried to answer. His voice was hoarse, like he'd swallowed water before, and the ensuing panic attack didn't make things any better.

"Water, my legs, floor, shirt, sleeve." Each word was followed by a pause and a convulsive uneven breath, followed by a ragged exhalation.

"Can you say four things you hear?"

"Rustle, the sound of water, k..." Fausto coughed, water spilled out of his mouth before he slowly continued, "knock, your voice."

"Good. Three things you feel?" Alt continued to stroke Fausto, gradually moving to his back, rubbing wide circles on the other's back and shoulders.

"C-cold, wet... Warm" Fausto seemed to almost cling to comfort, but there was still something that hindered him.

"Well done. Two things you can smell?"

Fausto seemed thoughtful before taking a deep breath to the best of his ability and trying to answer.

"Salt, blood" - the last word was more important than all the others.

"Good. Can you tell me what you taste now?" Fausto finally looked up from the flooded floor, only to meet Alt's slightly parted eyes. This unusual, strange and slightly frightening green color of the eyes hinted at the obvious inhuman origin of the white-haired one, but instead of danger, Fausto felt only an approaching wave of peace. He said nothing.

"It's okay, take your time. We've got plenty of it."

Fausto tried to move closer - not some conscious action, but something that told him to do it, and the body did it involuntarily. Or tried. Fausto almost fell, but barely held on, grabbing onto Alt.

"S-salt," the answer was too quiet, still hoarse and broken.

"Very well," Alt moved closer, gently hugging Fausto, who began to tremble. Tears began to roll down Fausto's face, but this time it was not a panic attack, but relief. - Everything is fine. Take your time

Fausto couldn't even nod as he leaned against the other and felt warm (does a human body have to be so hot? Especially in such cold water? His intuition was silent, so Fausto just tried to enjoy such a vulnerable moment while he could. As if there was no one. As if he really was safe.)

Alt stepped back for a second, standing up and pulling Fau with him. Strangely, compared to him, the white-haired one seemed so small, barely shoulder-length apart from the soles of his boots. But this aura of comfort, at home, still persisted.

Alt quickly found a dry place and it was so strange.

"Can you tell me why you did it? You were hurt by such actions" - Alt's soft tone, no pressure, just a silent promise of acceptance. Is it? Why was he like this? Was it all true?

"Why are you doing this?" Fau looked down, barely accepting all these pleasant emotions and trying to turn the topic of conversation to something else. Why?

"Doing what?" Alt sounded genuinely perplexed. Fau tried to get the point across.

"Why are you saving me over and over again?"

"I don't know." - Such an answer made Fau not understanding look at the interlocutor.

"Wh-what do you mean?!" Another bout of coughing interrupted his thoughts.

Alt shrugged.

"I don't know why I'm doing this anymore. Guess I've grown attached to you." “F-Fair enough, Fausto thought.

Fausto almost drooped, but instead began slowly, with breaks and pauses, to tell his thoughts, his actions and mistakes, expecting at each pause a reprimand or a verbal attack (blow), but none of this followed. When he finally finished, Alt was silent for a second, causing Fau to tense up.

"It's okay. I don't judge your actions. Please don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you, ever."

It was as if a rock fell from Fau's chest and split into millions and millions of dust and debris. Only Alt hasn't finished yet.

"It's okay. Sometimes there are good days, and sometimes there are just bad days. It's normal that you don't understand others and that others don't understand you. How about trying to solve the problem less hastily next time, okay?" No pressure, but he felt guilt." About the voice - is this really what you would like if you were given a little more time?"

Fau was slow to respond. Would oblivion be what he wanted? Would the loss of his memory of his entire life be worth it? If he had time, would he make this decision? Slowly, as if realizing his feelings, Fau shook his head in denial. It wouldn't be what he wanted. It wouldn't be worth it. He... He really wanted to be close to his team, open up without judgment, and above all, not be afraid.

Alt smiled softly.

"It's all right, Fausto."

Fau hesitated before answering hesitantly:

"Please call me Fau. I like it much more and it's more familiar."

Alt hesitated, cocking his head to the side and closing his eyes before smiling again.

"Okay, Fau."

After a while, while they were like that, in pleasant silence (and Fau really enjoyed this consolation, even if he would not tell anyone about it for the rest of his life), when the environment itself changed from shelter to something resembling the dry floor of the Library, Alt nodded before finally saying.

"That's good. Now let's go. You looked too much like a hybrid between Shatterbird and Simurgh."

Fausto's eyes widened sharply. No, he would never! He wouldn't be like those monsters!

When the crackling of glass was heard, it was accompanied by Alta's soft laughter. And Fausto opened his eyes. Well, eye.

***

Cosmo and Adam looked at the sight in disbelief. This stranger not only managed not to be wounded for most of the battle, and not to damage Dist... Fau, and force him to return. The curtain of silence was lifted and they heard the crackling of glass as all the crystals and all the shards shattered and the Fau returned to normal. The stranger seemed a little wounded, but all these wounds healed before their eyes. The white-haired one still held Fau in their arms.

"Huh, what a mess. Guess I'm glad I'm not the one to clean it up."

Fau didn't answer, instead enjoying the pats on his back and head. A playful smirk appeared on the stranger's face.

"By the way, I guess it's time for me to go. Good luck with the explanations there."

"Yes. I would demand an explanation." Angela appeared, along with Roland and several other librarians, looking annoyed.

It also made both Adam and Cosmo flinch sharply, not to mention the sharply pale Fau.

It seemed that their colleague, who returned to normal, wanted to mimic the white wall nearby, but he did not succeed. Angela's gaze pinned him right at the crime scene. And this crime was now his existence.

The white-haired stranger was no more, as if they had ceased to exist. Oh. They all seem to be in serious trouble. Oh shit. In the name of the Wings...

Fausto could hear the vanishing whispers from the periphery before turning completely pale at the sight of the Library Headmistress herself.

"If you hear that lady's voice again, tell her your opinion directly. Good luck."

Angela seemed to look more and more annoyed with every second. Fausto muttered, thinking he was quiet:

"I wish I had been hit by a bus then."

The remaining pair of eyes turned to him. Ah, oh.

[read-alert]

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

This takes place several years into a world in which a virus has ripped through humanity, turning anyone with a high enough testosterone level functionally into rabid zombies. We follow two trans women who scavenge for organic sources of estrogen, the doctor who helps them extract it, a trans man who has been isolated for years but joins them after saving their lives, and a woman quickly rising through the ranks of a newly constructed terf society that wants to eradicate all trans women left.

I was never gonna love this one; I dislike the very concept of gender apocalypses and find that the vast majority of them have extremely reductive, strict, and Western views of gender. This one is definitely the best of its kind that I've ever come across and largely avoids or at least softens my issues with the genre, but it still wasn't quite for me. I only read it in the first place because 99% of the good faith reviews I had heard loved it, with the one exception being a post saying that "turning bioessentialism into being about hormones rather than chromosomes isn't the win the author thinks it is."

And I don't think that that post was wrong, but I do think it was missing the point. I think the author deliberately selected testosterone as the source of the virus because T is one of, if not the, thing terfs focus on the most as the source for "male violence," and that it is intended to conjure the same reaction in the reader and force them to look at and confront their own transmisogyny after intentionally bringing it to the surface. That said, I don't think the book does enough to deconstruct the idea of testosterone inherently making people violent, especially since it does actually do that in this book.

I did enjoy the commentary of the policing of self and identity. Beth, Fran, and Robbie are all still, years into the actual apocalypse where Twitter doesn't even exist anymore, traumatized by the years of having to be constantly aware of every action and how it could be presented or viewed in a way that could lead to callouts or being called an abuser. And Beth, as a non-passing trans woman, had to deal with this to an even greater extent, including irl, having to constantly be wary of the fact that absolutely anything she did could be constructed as a threat. Beth and Fran both have to deal with people calling them rapists for no reason other than not disclosing that they are trans, despite the fact the woman who accused Fran was in the middle of sexually assaulting her. Meanwhile, Ramona the terf is also dealing with similar behavior because she has chosen to surround herself with people who think that they are the arbiters of womanhood and have the right to kill anyone who doesn't fit into their restrictive ideal.

I'm not a trans woman, so I haven't had personal experience with it, but based off of the stories of trans women I know, they do have to constantly present a perfect version of themselves or else they are labled raging bitches who are trying to destroy the community from within. It seems like an accurate reflection of the way trans women have to be hypervigilant in real life and how traumatizing the experience is. And Ramona's experience shows that the transmisogyny fueling the attacks against trans women hurt everyone because it forces everyone to comform to impossible standards, with Robbie and Indi's experiences showing how people of color, even a man in Robbie's case and a cis woman in Indi's, get the short end of the stick in all of it with how rooted in racism transmisogyny is.

There's definitely a lot of good in this book, and I definitely see why a lot of trans women have loved it so much, but it's not for me. 3.5⭐️

[flagellant]

I'm assuming that if Major General Murrchut didn't exist, it's probably a mistranslation of MacArthur from a non-latin aphabet into a latin alphabet (kind of like another Gamorrah to Goncharov situation) .

So, I'm wondering if Blanche Appleton could be similarly messed up? Maybe look for women in positions of power in that industry with similar names. Betsy Appleby, Blaire Anthony, Beth Applebaum, ect?

It's either Major General MacArthur or Major General Marquat; both were involved in the occupation and specifically involved with GHQ economics and scientific bureau. Appleton currently looks to be a contemporary corruption of Applebaum; she and her husband were going by Appleton in the 1940s census by that point. Ancestry . com people are crazier than I am but it's been a blessing to basically be able to genuinely confirm she was a real person.

Now just to find answers for literally everything else, and the questions this raises about US involvement in zaibatsu/Kikkoman postwar clan politics.

[stormbite-art]

i feel morbidly curious since i've been looking at old sb art and stuff, what was the original story/first draft like? story-wise and character-wise? again, just curious

The original first draft, version 0.001, pre-alpha, unrendered version of Stormbite was a hot mess, but there are still some anachronisms of it in the published version because I loved messing around with it in its raw form.

RIP Version 0.001 - Circa. 2012~

The first version was written by an angsty, unknowingly asexual, hyper stressed, nerd-ass teenager full of spite filled ambition, who had a little book/art club of other nerds who were into art, manga, video games, hyperfixations on birds, mushrooms, fish, and all other niche Ology zones, that they wanted to entertain and please. We all liked sci-fi and fantasy, non-human protagonists, were all raging angrily about how a certain series was going and the state of YA fiction at the time (it was those dark 2009-2013 years where all YA fiction was paranormal romance love triangle bullshit).

Because I was full of spiteful ambitious rage, and it was not my first rodeo in deciding to make a creative project of some kind, I decided to do my own story/comic with some characters created by my nerd club friends.

It was entirely what you'd expect of a teenager who did not fear cringe and was just wanting a good time to entertain friends. Plots were flexible abstract things, and canons were loose. Ships passed in the night, and AU's were golden and hyper modifiable to fit any scenario or adaptation. There was no lore or world rules, it was a free for all.

I managed to get through almost 20 pages of colouring this super rough comic, and doing what is essentially still the first chapter without really doing a script or any forethought into what happens next. Version 0.001's remnants still exist in chapters 1-5 and that is it, everything else after that came later when I decided that drawing took too long, and writing was faster and easier to change. Drawing out thumbnails of scenes did help in writing what happened and how a fight played out however.

The original versions of the characters however:

Storm had the full anime works: She had a split personality with colour changing, glowing eyes, possessed by the spirit of her dead twin, a metal collar that couldn't be taken off, lightning and frost powers, nerdy t-shirts and converse.

Kat was originally a blonde-haired blue eyed white girl, with blue jay wings which changed. Her tail was cut off, she was a trained assassin who wore revealing ninja outfits, her and Amell was meant to be a thing.

Beth had a pet owl called Harrold who was a spy for her, wore a cavaliers hat and was a self-proclaimed technomancer who could hack anything and control technology, was cheerful and helpful, had all of her limbs, and was obsessed with blueberry muffins.

Wilny was pasty emo boy with scraggy hair and much greener wings. Also he could actually stop time rather than mess with perceptions to make it feel as though time has stopped.

Amell was a skinny, lanky dude, greek rather than kiwi, and had blue eyes, and could lift a car in flight.

Comet was more of a main character with a kind of disturbing backstory, long hair, reality manipulation powers

Raoul was a wolf-girl before she became Asena and Raoul his own person. Palmer didn't really fully exist.

Malana is more or less the same, but was meant to have horns at one point and was created in Risio but was a reject.

Sabre & Fell were generic bad guys. Rex was a good guy.

There was also a lot of other characters who either have been recycled into other minor characters (ex. Rai, Asena, the Varren group ((that was the first rodeo)) or Roux) or have been lost to time and cut completely.

Of course, time goes on, you grow and change, develop and redevelop both what you like, how you work, what you can do and prefer, so of course it evolved a lot more and there was a lot of changes along the way.

Personally, I think they all look a lot better now.

[lola-andheruniverse]

It's our last SDCC and I'm sad and angry because I love this fucking show so much and I'm going to miss it but at the same time good riddance because yeah we overstayed our welcome

so here's 2 lists in no particular order of

10 THINGS THE WALKING DEAD GOT RIGHT

1) Shane and his descent into madness; 2) Rick as a benevolent and kind leader that also goes batshit crazy and ruthless when needed; 3) Michonne and Carl's friendship; 4) Carol's character development; 5) Carol and Daryl and their incredibly beautiful and meaningful bond; 6) the whole concept of Team Family; 7) pretty much the whole existence of Glenn, Eugene, Lydia and Jerry; 8) siblings love; 9) Aaron having a second chance of having a family with Gracie; 10) villains with very different mindsets, goals and iconic aesthetics.

10 THINGS THE WALKING DEAD GOT WRONG

1) the mistreating of female characters in general; 2) the Rick/Lori/Shane love triangle, putting all the blame on Lori's shoulders; 3) Andrea's whole arc; 4) the non-ending pain parade Carol and Daryl have to unnecessarily endure, which got in the way of they becoming a couple; 5) killing off legacy characters (Carl, Beth, Noah, Henry, Enid); 6) introducing a load of new characters each season just to kill them before the audience can even connect so their arcs are pretty much useless; 7) killing Bob, Tyresee and Noah, three black man, one after the other and on an increasing traumatic manner; 8) Glenn's wasted potential as a character, his death and Negan's redemption arc altogether; 9) Maggie's character development; 10) yes, I'll repeat myself here, Carol and Daryl not being a couple.

and no I won't explain my reasoning

my beloved characters and show deserved better

[oficmag]

Book Rec: As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann

Medium: Novel

Genre: Historical Fiction

Tags/Content Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, murder, rape/non-con, abuse, major character injury, teeth stuff, period-typical racism and homophobia, protectiveness, possessiveness, unhealthy relationships

This book is everything puriteens hate. You’ve got gay men written by a woman, an arguably abusive relationship, a graphic rape scene, and worst of all, a morally despicable narrator who tries to demand your sympathy, and for the tender-hearted, he may nearly succeed. In other words, it’s awesome.

The story is set in seventeenth-century England, and of the historical accuracy, NPR book reviewer Lionel Shriver says: 

“Apparently, McCann was a schoolteacher when she wrote this novel, and used to get up at 5 a.m. every weekday to write a few more pages—making me feel quite the lazy bones in comparison. But so professional was her work that when her editor showed her manuscript to an expert on the period, the only error he discovered was a particular postal vehicle, which wasn't used until a few years later. That's pretty high marks.” 

The story begins with our narrator Jacob, a servant, badly pretending he hasn’t just murdered a teenage boy in cold blood and thus goes around being shocked pikachu.jpg about it. He’s set to marry, but shortly after the ceremony, the police arrive and he runs away. He gets picked up by the army and because he’s an enormous man (like, physically), he’s forced to fight in the war. There he meets gunman Ferris, with whom he falls in an intense and totally unhealthy kind of love.

Is this book a beach read? Absolutely not. Is it a fast-paced page-turner? Not even close—in fact it took me over six months to finish it because I kept putting it down to read other, faster-paced things that didn’t make me feel wretched inside. Is it a million fucking pages? Oh yes it is. 

So why should you read it? I don’t know man, I just love that it has the gall to exist.

You can find this book here.

Recommender: Beth | Editor-in-Chief

[caspersgraveyard]

look. look. i get that it gets preachy sometimes but spreading awareness and information about queerness in general is IMPORTANT.

even someone like me, who comes from a definite place of privilege (i wouldn't say I'm privileged enough to just coast by in life or sit on piles of generational wealth but i am aware I'm amongst the mid to upper echelons of general society), and is queer themselves doesn't know about so many things.

the most prominent example i can give you is my experience with gender dysmorphia. for the longest time, i didn't even know that term existed - i just called it "gender stuff" (this was after realising I'm bisexual btw). and then I learnt the term and a little more about trans people and enbies, but still thought it was just restricted to people transitioning to the opposite sex or using they/them or neopronouns.

throughout this i had fleeting moments of deliberation about my own gender but they always ended with "I'm definitely a man so eh whatever". and then I learnt that people using multiple pronouns is A Thing, that it's a type of non-binary. i saw public figures i love (shoutout to @chronicintrovert and Beth McCarthy, thank you) using multiple sets and my brain went "oh. that's a thing, huh?".

so then I started doing some more research about that and read a little about it. i tried to find fiction w this flavour of enbie MCs too because that's always helped me, but unfortunately couldn't find anything (which is why I've taken it upon myself to write those stories; DM me for my writing if you're interested).

and through all that, my explorations of gender began to change and grow. i understood myself more because i was now aware of the options i had. i no longer had to be restricted to one gender. i could be as many as felt right. i still think of myself as a man, but I also think of myself as a they/them and also even as a kind of constant mix of the two (full disclosure: I'm not 100% settled on the they/them bit but i am like 80% sure).

the first time i told someone about using he/they pronouns out loud was at YALC. someone in a line i was in was giving out pronoun bookmarks to anyone who wanted them and asked me which ones i used (sidenote: i LOVE her she is one of the sweetest, kindest people I've had the pleasure to get to know this year). i was terrified but i said he/they anyway, thinking she wouldn't have one of those because "who even uses such weird pronouns, god 🙄".

but then she pulled one out. she pulled one of the LOADS she had out. she had printed entire stacks of he/theys and she/theys and then my brain went "oh. it's not weird at all. it's actually entirely ordinary and perfectly alright" (i love identifying as weird but i meant it in a negative sense there). and that helped so much. it gave me so much more confidence about my pronouns.

look, long story short, it was because of awareness, prominent and proud usage, and normalisation of all types of gender expression, that I came to know more about my own. we need more of it all.

[pancakehouse]

heyy mads so actually i need more of your thoughts on amy/laurie and why you don’t understand people defending them…. i remember being kind of baffled by them when i read the book as a young teen so please <3 be a hater <3

hiii laura oh my god i will (gladly) be a hater it comes sooo naturally to me and we all rlly gotta be biting our tongues on here daily, don't we :-/

(pls ... if you are a passionate amy/laurie fan .. just close your eyes and keep scrolling babes i love you sooo much this post cannot hurt you i promise !!!)

OKAY. so i feel like the whole amy/laurie vs jo/laurie debate has been widely discussed (both on The Internet and in my household lol) but for me it's less that i think he should've ended up w jo and more that i think acting like a/l truly love each other and totally definitely make sense is so stupid. it's soooo stupid laura i am rolling my eyes!! can you see me!!!

and the reason i think this! is because, essentially, Alcott uses the four sisters to like ... represent the few limited life paths that were avail to non-wealthy american women in the 19th century, right?

like meg marries the man who is able (if only just) to provide her a stable home. beth pursues her music (piano? if im remembering right) and is content to live her life at home, with her family. amy wants to (and eventually does) marry a wealthy, cultured man of ~Society who can give her a life above the one she was born into.

jo is the wildcard, ofc. the one who goes off-script for the normal young woman, and ofc who alcott views as a reflection of herself. we know that alcott wanted jo to remain unmarried and was strong-armed by publishers to put her w someone, but if she knew she'd have to, then my only explanation for it to not be laurie was to spite the predictable narrative and spite the readers lol.

the guy jo does end up w is so random and just .. makes no sense. if you're making sense of it, you are having to reach so far up your ass to do so! sorry to be crass!!! (rlly leaning into my hater-moment oops)

anyway - the way this connects to amy and laurie is this:

i do not believe (and i'm sure we are not meant to believe) that meg married for love. beth (</3) did not marry ofc. and it's impossible to believe jo married for love if the author intended her to be unmarried. that storyline doesn't exist to me now.

and amy is the sister that is represented as a bit vain; a bit entitled and spoiled in the way youngest children are allowed to be. from the start, it's clear she plans to marry for wealth. even if we're taking from gerwig's adaptation instead of solely the book, then amy still isn't really represented as particularly romantic (the whole 'i'm not a poet' scene) (also tbf it's been awhile since i read the book, but imo she romanticizes her life, yes, but not love itself).

LAURIE is the romantic, the most so, out of all the characters. i genuinely feel like this is the ONLY reason ppl latch onto amy/laurie and try so hard to rationalize it .. bc they can't bear to think of laurie in a marriage that was w his next-best-option rather than True Love (sorry.. by no means a dig at amy...but cmon guys ..)

because i also feel like the only thing laurie really wanted even more than to spend his life w jo, is to be apart of the march family. it was always clear he wanted that, just as it was always clear he loved jo from day 1! and so the only conclusion i was ever able to come from all this is that he loved jo for being jo and he loved amy for being a march sister.

ah god sorry this is SO anysmally long i am SO SO sorry laura dear!! so grateful to you for this opportunity to hate on them (read: cringe & take the romance out of) them as a couple!!! but there is simply no scenario where i can imagine knowing a boy has loved my sister his entire life and then MARRY him after ?? bc she rejected him ??!!! esp knowing amy and jo's history of shared drama. esp bc the entire story is one of sisterhood!

like bro that girl (amy) has mentally been your sister-in-law for a decade ... and now we're saying we LOVE her? puke vom i hate it it makes me cringe and twitchy and yuck. its so weird ppl !!!! so weird.

[rat-bisexual]

A lot of bisexual history has been erased so I figured I’d remind you all of some quotes and clear up any misunderstandings about bisexuality.

Bisexuality has been described as attraction regardless of gender for decades

"I am bisexual because I am drawn to people regardless of gender"

-‘The Bisexual Community: Are We Visible Yet?’, 1987

“In the midst of whatever hardships we [bisexuals] had encountered, this day we worked with each other to preserve our gift of loving people for who they are regardless of gender.”

-Elissa M., “Bi Conference,” Bi Women, 1985

“To be bisexual is to have the potential to be open emotionally and sexually to people as people, regardless of their gender.”

-Office Pink Publishing, “Introduction,” Bisexual Lives, 1988

“Being bisexual does not mean they have sexual relations with both sexes but that they are capable of meaningful and intimate involvement with a person regardless of gender.”

-Janet Bode, “The Pressure Cooker,” View From Another Closet, 1976

“Over the past fifteen years, however, [one Caucasian man] has realized that he is ‘attracted to people — not their sexual identity’ and no longer cares whether his partners are male or female. He has kept his Bi identity and now uses it to refer to his attraction to people regardless of their gender.”  

-Paula C. Rust, “Sexual Identity and Bisexual Identities,” Queer Studies: A Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Anthology, 1998

“In the midst of whatever hardships we [bisexuals] had encountered, this day we worked with each other to preserve our gift of loving people for who they are regardless of gender.”

-Elissa M., “Bi Conference,” Bi Women, 1985

“To be bisexual is to have the potential to be open emotionally and sexually to people as people, regardless of their gender.”

-Office Pink Publishing, “Introduction,” Bisexual Lives, 1988

Bisexuality doesn’t have to mean a person “sees gender”

“[S]ome bisexuals say they are blind to the gender of their potential lovers and that they love people as people… For the first group, a dichotomy of genders between which to choose doesn’t seem to exist”

-Kathleen Bennett, “Feminist Bisexuality, a Both/And Option for an Either/Or World,” Closer to Home: Bisexuality and Feminism,1992

"Some bisexual respondents bypass the issue of 'degrees' of attraction to women and men by defining bisexuals as a humanistic, gender-blind way of relating to others. They see bisexuality as a way of loving the person, not their sex, or being nondiscrimintory in their attractions to others. For example, Ludwica wrote, 'I feel as if I'm open to respond to the person, not just the gender.' "

-"Bisexuality and the Challenge to Lesbian Politics: Sex, Loyalty, and Revolution" by Paula C Rust 1995

“I believe that people fall in love with individuals, not with a sex… I believe most of us will end up acknowledging that we love certain people or, perhaps, certain kinds of people, and that gender need not be a significant category, though for some of us it may be.”

Ruth Hubbard, ‘There Is No ‘Natural’ Human Sexuality, Bi Women’ ,1986

“Some women who call themselves ‘bisexual’ insist that the gender of their lover is irrelevant to them, that they do not choose lovers on the basis of gender.”

-Marilyn Murphy, “Thinking About Bisexuality,” Bi Women, 1991

“Some of us are bisexual because we do not pay much attention to the gender of our attractions.”

-Bisexual Politics, Quiries and Visions, 1995

Bisexuality is inclusive of all genders

“Who is this group for exactly? Anyone who identifies as bisexual or thinks they are attracted to or interested in all genders… This newly formed [support] group is to create a supportive, safe environment for people who are questioning their sexual orientation and think they may be bisexual.”

-“Coming Out as Bisexual,” Bi Women, 1994

“It’s easier, I believe, for exclusive heterosexuals to tolerate (and that’s the word) exclusive homosexuals than [bisexuals] who, rejecting exclusivity, sleep with people not genders…”

-Martin Duberman, 1974 “The bisexual community should be a place where lines are erased. Bisexuality dismisses, disproves, and defies dichotomies. It connotates a loss of rigidity and absolutes. It is an inclusive term.” -‘Essay for the Inclusion of Transsexuals’, Kory Martin-Damon, 1995

“Bisexual — being emotionally and physically attracted to all genders.”

-The Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network, “Out of the Past: Teacher’s Guide” 1999

"Bisexuality is much more than, and different from, the sensationalized 'third choice, best of both worlds' phenomena it's made out to be. Bisexuality is an inclusive term that defines immense possibilities avalable to us, whether we act on them or not."

-"Bi Any Other Name", Loraine Hutchens and Lani Ku'ahumany, 1991

"Bisexual consciousness, because of its amorphous quality and inclusive nature, posed a fundamental threat to the dualistic and exclusionary thought patterns which were- and still are- tenaciously held by both the gay liberation leadership and its enemies."

-"The Bisexual Movement's Beginnings in the 70s'', Bisexual politics, Naomi Tucker, 1995

Bisexuality historically and currently includes transgender and nonbinary people

“With respect to our integrity as bisexuals, it is our responsibility to include transgender people in our language, in our communities, in our politics, and in our lives”

-Bisexual Politics: Theories, Queries, and Visions by Naomi S Tucker, 1995

"Bisexuality is here defined as the capacity , regardless of the sexual identity label one chooses , to love and sexually desire both same - and other - gendered individuals . The term other-gendered is used here deliberately and is preferable to the term opposite - gendered , because other - gendered encompasses a recognition of the existence of transgendered and transsexual individuals , who may embrace gender identities other than [male and female]"

-"Bisexuality: The Psychology and Politics of an Invisible Minority" by Beth A. Firestein and Dallas Denny, 1996

“From the earliest years of the bi community, significant numbers of TV/TS [transvestite/transsexual] and transgender people have always been involved with it. The bi community served as a kind of refuge for people who felt excluded from the established gay and lesbian communities.”

-Kevin Lano, “Bisexuality and Transgenderism,” Anything That Moves, 1998

"Bisexuality means having the capacity to be attracted to people of both major genders ( don't forget: there are gender minorities, too) ." “As with the word Bisexual, they usually also imply that relations with gender minorities are possible.”

-‘Bisexuality: A Reader and a Sourcebook’, 1990

“There were a lot of transvestites and transsexuals who came to [the San Francisco Bisexual Center in the 1970s], because they were not going to be turned away because of the way they dressed.”

-David Lourea in “Bisexual Histories in San Francisco in the 1970s and Early 1980s,” Dworkin, 2000 Journal of Bisexuality

"The actual lived non-binary history of the bisexual community and movement and the inclusive culture and community spirit of bisexuals are eradicated when a binary interpretation of our name for ourselves is arbitrarily assumed."

-"Bi Any Other Name: Bisexual People Speak Out" by Lani Ka’ahumanu

"In the bisexual movement as a whole, transgendered individuals are celebrated not only as an aspect of the diversity of the bisexual community, but, because like bisexuals, they do not fit neatly into dichotomous categories."

-"Bisexuality and the Challenge to Lesbian Politics" by Paula C. Rust, 1995