#Like a world in which Echoes are just the norm or at least not some fuckery exclusive to what Kalmie/Mull's got going on

[shakespeareallanpoe]

This Fate We Choose

Word Count: idk

Warnings: none, unless you're terrified of afternoon strolls

______

Reality was a harsh place. War and evil existed only to destroy and the world was the perfect place for it to flourish. Damian had had enough. He was born as the assassin and he had lived as the hero. And just like him, despite his father's efforts and optimistic beliefs, the world had made a full circle. Every battle the justice league won to fix their world led to the world falling back to being broken.

  Damian was leaving. Returning to his grandfather's league to make a real change in the world instead of playing hero and uselessly accomplishing nothing. He dropped a few hints that morning to the team as his only way of signaling his intent to depart. If the smart ones on the team lived up to that title they would know what he was doing and for the idiots, they didn't need to know he was leaving. Or at least they didn't need to be able to bother him about it until he was long gone.

  Weighing on him, and maybe if he was being honest, what had delayed his decision to leave for so long, was something he knew he had to address. Today. So in his casual clothes, with his belongings already packed in his ride, and his favorite sword left behind, something that rarely happened, Damian stood, unarmed in every way, in front of Raven's bedroom door.

  He needed no excuse to talk with her. They were past the formality the other team members needed to approach either of them. Damian gestured curtly with his hand outside, where the golden hour sunshine casted plenty of light and warmth for a stroll around the tower, and with a graceful nod Raven agreed.

  As they walked Raven lightheartedly offered conversation, as was their norm. She always broke the ice and settled them into their pleasant conversation first. It was something he knew she only did for him, as she rarely offered light conversation to anyone else. And he knew he did something similar in his own way, offering to her some side of him that was for her and her alone.

  After a while Damian ventured to drift closer as they neared a curve in the path, slowing to a stop as his gaze fell onto Raven. In the direct purity of the afternoon sunlight, her smooth midnight hair almost glowed with a purple shine, as if by its own magic. Her eyes were caught in the light which dazzled with every hue of amethyst, and her expression was attentive and beautiful.

  Raven was like that. Damian always felt as if from within her, she radiated her own evangelical aura, an energy that was uniquely her. It was different than seeing her magic in use- her aura didn't come from hell or a demonic ancestry. Raven lived the life of her own choice, and however limited it was by her father's efforts Damian had no doubt that no one ruled over her destiny but her. She was no one but herself, and from that she would never stray or bend for anything. Raven never boasted her strength or competed to prove what she was capable of. She was so different than him, like the perfect yin to his yang. The rain to his wildfire.

  And he knew, so, so late but now for sure, from the depths of the heart so many told him he never had, that his naturally keen observation didn't tell him this. That his astute scrutiny of the world and everything in it couldn't be responsible for telling him how Raven's gentle smile softened her sculpted features or how her voice just barely picked up when she was talking about what she loved. She had an effect on him, almost like magic and maybe it was in a way, it was a magic of her own. A magic which resonated like the perfect harmonic chord echoing in his heart. If it was, it had to be her. Damian could live a hundred lives and travel a thousand miles and never would he find another who navigated the complex depth of his mind and soul like she did.

  They were different than destiny. From the life they were promised they would lead. This was a choice. Raven was in control of who she was and so was he. They could choose this. They could choose each other. This life they led could be rewritten.

  But when Damian tried to tell her, all that fell from his mouth to the girl he had so completely fallen for, the beautiful girl he knew he could fall forever for, was "would you be interested in joining me in leading the league of assassins?"

[ukrainian-gender-critical]

Bullying your mum isn’t activism

Political purity is another mask for patriarchy

Perhaps this will come as a shock to purists, but parents — good ones, at least — do not always tell their children the truth. Preparing a person to live in the world as it is, as opposed to the one they might like it to be, does not always involve confronting them with harsh realities. You ease them in, making difficult judgements about what to reveal, what to withhold. This isn’t dishonesty or pandering; I consider it pragmatism.

Whilst my own sons know more than me about what it is like to be young at this moment in history, I know more than them about other subjects, simply because I am older. At the same time, I do not want to dent their enthusiasm, make them feel small, drop unnecessary truth bombs just to boost my own ego. Having grown up in a household where “just being honest” could be wielded as a weapon to make others feel ugly and stupid, I try to take care over what truly needs to be said. There are some truths which I consider important but which I know will not stick, at least not yet. I hold them in reserve.

I am sure this leads to some situations in which Mummy is considered an ignoramus in relation to topics about which I know a great deal and yes, this rankles. Still, I would rather wait it out, picking my battles. My aim as a parent is not to create individuals who echo my own beliefs. I want them to be people who have the confidence to be questioning in their own right. Plus, I have enough confidence in my own politics to think they can withstand said questioning without recourse to forced compliance.

Threatening to isolate a female relative is a form of coercive control

I know that I am fortunate not to have been tested too harshly on this. I have female friends whose daughters have disidentified from femaleness. In doing so, have seen fit to lecture their mothers on how they — mere older women — could not possibly understand what it is like not to feel at home in one’s female body or to reject the social identities imposed on female people. When my friends initially protested that on the contrary, they knew exactly what it was like — that they, too, had complex inner lives, and had only come to accept their bodies after fighting to reject the meanings imposed on them — their children did not believe them. Instead, they saw a bigotry that had to be combated with an even more aggressive form of disidentification.

A mother who is anything other than a regressive stereotype is a threat to those whose identities are founded on not becoming her. “Easier by far to hate and reject a mother outright than to see beyond her to the forces acting upon her,” wrote Adrienne Rich. “But where a mother is hated to the point of matrophobia there may also be a deep underlying pull toward her, a dread that if one relaxes one’s guard one will identify with her completely.”

My friends have not abandoned their children. Instead, they now walk a tightrope, keeping their mouths shut in instances where they feel it would only entrench their children’s views further. They make compromises, doing what is necessary to ensure their children feel accepted, whilst keeping the option to change course open. They understand there is little point in demanding that their children empathise with them, at least not yet. It is hard for these mothers, not least because what they are enduring from their children is a form of sexism in the name of rejecting gender norms: Mummy, know your place.

As far as the children are concerned, Mummy has been if not convinced, then cowed. They have won the battle of who gets to control which pronouns are used round the dinner table. It is not a real victory, but a managed truce for which Mummy will — in another backhanded reinforcement of traditional gender norms — receive little appreciation.

There’s something similar going on, if much more darkly, in a pre-Christmas Novara Media piece on “How I Deradicalised My Terf Mum”. In it, an adult child — in this case, a son — boasts of how he coerced the woman who gave birth to him to deny there is any social or political salience to who gives birth to whom. He pities his mother for undergoing “Mumsnet radicalisation” and resolves to cut off all contact unless she pretends to think her own feminism does not matter, telling her, “Look, if you don’t fucking fix up, I’m not really interested in having an endless debate with you, I will just leave.”

He remembers his mum’s anger and devastation. “She thought it was a dirty tactic.” Whether or not it was, it worked: “I think the fear of losing the people closest to her was a strong motivating force.” Broader social pressure may have multiplied the brothers’ impact. Will’s family is part of a small, close-knit group of families in south London, and when their children found out what was happening with Janet, they encouraged their parents to speak to her, too. “There was another community she would have been isolated from that she also valued.”

The son “Will” is obviously proud of himself, even though what he is describing is a form of coercive control. Threatening to isolate a female relative unless she denies her perceptions of reality indicates he does not care that she may not believe what she is saying. All that matters is that she has been forced into line. This is not activism; it is patriarchy.

I had that chance to browbeat my Catholic mother into submission

It is not that I always think mothers know best, or that I have never been in the position of a young person believing their mother to hold harmful beliefs. My own mother was vehemently anti-abortion. There are many reasons why I think she was wrong, one of them being that prioritising the needs of an embryo — perfect, unsullied potential life — over that of a woman seeking a termination — a messy, complex person, not a flawless blank slate — doesn’t look like real compassion to me. Opposition to abortion, to my mind, is less about saving others than keeping oneself ideologically pure.

I never once considered forcing my mother to say this, though. I know there are some who will think this makes me complicit in the suffering of women and girls denied abortions. I had that chance to browbeat my Catholic mother into submission — to convert a true sinner — and I never took it. I could perhaps have bullied her into pretending she agreed with me, though I doubt this would have stopped her making regular donations to the Society for the Protection of the Unborn Child.

In the end, I’d have been doing the very thing of which I accuse anti-choicers: prioritising looking pure (my mother’s politics shall not sully me!) over doing good. Forcing my mother to say things she didn’t believe, and distressing her in the process, would have made zero difference to a desperate woman in Poland, Malta or the US. It would not have been a feminist victory.

When one person’s perception of reality (usually, but not always, the eldest male’s) is prioritised over everyone else’s, the family is patriarchal. I do not want my sons to grow up in a household in which everyone else either has to gaslight themselves into going along with one person’s truth, or must pretend to do so out of fear.

Young adults who boast of “schooling” their “bigoted” mothers are model patriarchs. They might have won the power play, but they have lost the moral argument. Maybe one day they will find a politics that can bear the weight of scrutiny, ceasing to treat others as mirrors reflecting their politics back at them at several times its actual validity. That is what I had to find for myself, and what I want my own children to discover, in their own time.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Ally of Neverland 1

You know what? Enjoy the proper beggining of Ally of Neverland AU with me or suffer. Preferably enjoy, though.

Alice is falling again – or maybe she jumped. It’s hard to tell. In Wonderland, the outlandish is not out of the norm at all and the nonsense makes sense if it wants to.

But regardless, Alice is speeding down the rabbit hole again.

It is not a gentle fall this time: The cosy furniture grabs at her skirts and the vines try to tangle her hair.

„That is rather rude of you!“ protests Alice.

A rug tries to tie around her ankles and a picture frame almost nails her against the wall as a photograph. Well, more like a poor little butterfly or a moth caught in a lepidopterist’s collection… But as she said, rude.

It’s almost as if these items (?) don’t want her to go where she is going.

…Where was she going anyway?

She can’t remember. 

She clearly must have been going somewhere if she is on the way…

But then again, if you don’t know where you are going, all ways are the right ways.

All ways belong to the Queen of Hearts.

Right! Queen of Hearts!

That’s where Alice wanted to go!

Well… Not really. She has no desire to stand once again in her court, tried for a crime she can’t even understand. 

But.

But!

She heard the most curious thing about Queen of Hearts, and she simply must know whether it is true or not! She must know–

Because, you see, rumour has it, the Queen of Hearts is no longer in Wonderland, but rather on this place called „The Isle of the Lost“. Curious, isn’t it?

The last time Alice heard of the Queen, she wasn’t lost at all.

With that thought, the world speeds up.

Her skirt flares up around her waist and some of her hair stay dangling way above (?) her, tangled in a mess of vines and spiderwebs; she cries out in pain when she realises, and, delayed as it might be, the scream echoes through the tunnel and Alice falls down, down, down.

If she lands now, she will shatter completely, like a mirror, and that is seven years of bad luck. 

Everyone knows that.

Funny, now, it is exactly seven years since she fell through the rabbithole for the first time…

Alice’s mind does a somersault as she falls through the ground and somehow lands on her feet, a feat which makes perfect sense by the twisted physics of Wonderland. 

Her stomach follows with a backflip immediately after, just when she takes in her surroundings properly.

The omnipresent smell of rotten fish that will take weeks to wash off her hair, Alice is sure. 

The muddy ground that smells of alcohol and metal, the blank grey sky. The sign that broadcasts to the world: „Feeling happy? We can help!“

There might be little voice telling Alice that exploring this place might not be a good idea, but, well, Alice has never been that great at listening.

She sneaks out of the alley, only to flinch back in again when a gang of pirates (?) barrels through the street.

At least it isn’t a circle of sea creatures singing and running in an endless and meaningless cycle this time, though. No long-extinct species in sight, too. 

Although yes, this place does look like a living fossil otherwise, even without the birds. The extinct ones. There are plenty of seagulls here, their screeches pulling at Alice’s ears just as the vines were trying to. She likes her ears, you know? And her new earrings, too.

So she presses her palms on her ears and wanders down the street, not really worrying where she is going. All ways are the right ways, after all.

Alice carefully sidesteps the puddles of muddy water and less… pleasant liquids and scrunches her nose.

This place is not Wonderlandiful at all, that you for asking.

Outlandish and nonsensical, yes. Wonderful? No.

„Curl up and dye,“ says a colourful sign on the wall.

„Curl up and die,“ counters a hastily scribbled message next to it.

(„Gladly,“ agrees the word below it, written in a child-like scrawle.)

„Wherever have I landed?“ asks Alice no one in particular, the heavy suspicion landing at her heart. 

„I feel lost…“

A trio of children runs around her, laughing and chasing each other, their clothes torn and dirty. One boy holds a dangerously sharp metal hook in his hand, and, god, what if he falls and injures himself? 

The girl has no shoes and bright teal hair.

Alice reaches out to stop her; the girl freezes and points a dagger at her. (Alice doesn't see it, but behind her back, the boy points his own weapon at her too.)

And must all of these kids carry around such sharp things?

„Where are your shoes?“ Alice asks.

„Shoes?“ The girl shrugs in answer, careless, „Never had ones.“

„You should have shoes. It's dangerous to run around barefoot…“ 

The ground practically shines with broken glass here and there. Broken mirrors, again and after all. Broken mirrors of the world.

Wait, what?

„Give her yours, then,“ challenges the boy boldly, his hook still pointed at her, as Alice sees when she turns around.

„My shoes surely wouldn't fit–“

„Better than going barefoot, isn't it? Safer?“

Madness, these children really are good at twisting words, aren't they?

Alice takes off her shoes and silently hands them over; the children bolt away without as much as a backward glance.

Alice continues her way barefoot, moderately careful to not to step on any broken glass or rusty nails.

(„Try to be good, for goodness sake!“ asks a poster on the wall, one after another, each more disfigured than the last.)

Alice sidesteps a puddle of what she suspects to be spilled fish guts on the ground.

„Hey, you! Stop!“ cuts a woman's voice through the air.

Alice looks around, confused. 

„Me?“ she asks, pointing at her chest.

„Yes, you!“ A woman appears next to her, a baby at her hip and a gun in her hand.

„You are not from here, are you?“

„No, madam. I'm afraid I am rather lost.“

„Aren't we all,“ snorts the woman with dark amusement, „But you, you have a way out of here, don't you, girl?“

She has far too intense eyes and the gun really isn't helping matters in Alice's opinion, but she gulps away her fears and answers:

„Yes. Yes, I do. At least I think so: I can hardly believe my own eyes, most of the time.“

The woman mutters something Alice doesn't catch and adjusts the baby she is holding. Then:

„Good. Take her.“

„Excuse me?“

„Did you not hear me, girl?“ she thrusts the child into Alice's arms, angry eyes just inches of her own, „Take her and run! Give her a better life.“

„I…“ Alice's words die in her throat, choking her, „I can't possibly–“

„You must,“ counters the woman, „You must take my daughter and get out of here.“

What kind of mother gives up her child like that? What kind of world is this, where all sense is lost?

A girl rounds the corner, carrying yet another baby, an almost identical copy of the one Alice reluctantly accepted. The baby is sucking at her hair.

„Could you possibly take both of them?“ the mother asks, her eyes sad all of the sudden. Alice looks away from them.

„I don't think so. I don't know if I can even take this one – I don't know if she will survive the journey. No one but me has ever travelled through the rabbit hole…“

„They could take it, they are Neverland,“ the mother counters desperately. It almost makes sense in Alice's head, but only almost: when she tries to catch the idea, it flees, again and again, like a butterfly that doesn't want to be caught or a cat that should be given a bath.

The baby is heavy and her arms already ache from the weight: she adjusts the kid on her hip, as she has seen her sister and mother do. It helps only a bit.

„Take them.“

Alice looks at the blonde curls of the baby in her arms and regrets her next words even before they leave her mouth: she wishes she could catch them and stuff them back, foolish as they might be. Those words are true, after all, and one cannot imprison truth.

„I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I cannot take both of them: what if I lose them, what if they fall? What could happen to them in the rabbit hole? They are so tiny, they'd be dead–“

The mother stares at her with calculating eyes, as does the girl that caught up to them. Alice feels tears pressing into her eyes, so she lets them fall. Tears, just as true words, shouldn't be imprisoned.

„I understand,“ says the woman finally, completely blank. Alice has a suspicion that her soul is a graveyard now.

„Take this one and go. Now.“

Alice presses the baby closer to her, reluctant still: if she jumps through the rabbit hole with the child, who knows what could happen? Who is to say they'd both survive the journey.

„Where are they going, mother?“

„To a better place.“

It says a lot that the girl, barely seven years of age, doesn't ask if she can come, too. Maybe she doesn't believe in better places, or maybe she just gave up hope of ever finding one for herself. Maybe she resigned herself to this lost and damned fate a long time ago; such thoughts will haunt Alice's mind for years to come. They'll refuse to leave, those uninvited guests, and they will make themselves known at the very most inconvenient of times.

„I'll take her,“ Alice whispers, promises more for herself than for anyone else. 

„I'll take her and take care of her. She will be fine.“

If she repeats it enough times, maybe she will believe it.

„Go,“ says the mother.

„Run,“ echoes the girl.

„Get away while you still can.“ 

„Be nice to my baby sister.“ 

„You are my saviour.“

„I will never forgive you.“

„A better place, a better life.“

„Give that to her, or die trying.“

„Better for her if she dies, than the Isle.“

Those words fall down like an avalanche, unstoppable and still speeding up, even as she falls down the rabbit hole, and down, down, down.

She turns around, face-first, hoping that she will be faster than the hurtful words, faster than all the things that try to grab her and take the baby away. Her heart beats faster and faster too; it's the only thing she can hear now. Maybe it's better this way.

An armchair collides into them, causing the child to cry out and squirm.

„Hush you now,“ says Alice, gathering all her calm and holding the baby closer.

„It will be but a moment.“

And yet, the horrific fall feels like a forever.

@dragoneyes618 (Sorry for bothering you, but I figured you might be intersted?)

[casgape]

i would lovvvve to hear more about the evil Expectations AU if you want to share. because Expectations is such a pleasant read in practice imo 🙂 but also the characters are at all times hovering on the knife's edge of horrible irreparable structural violence. But there's an author-reader contract that this is a fairytale-aesthetic bodice-ripper and so Cas' struggles will remain manageable 🙂 Also he's holed up in a safe-house with a bunch of trafficking survivors for like 300 pages. idk i thought the Romance-Novel Trope Cognitive Dissonance was really crunchy and palpable

Hello!!! Consequences is the brainchild of me and @electracomplexshiv, but basically, the premise is, what if we force the consummation issue - i.e., what if Dean doesn't have a choice with what he does to Cas? What then?

But also on a broader level (that I'm still working out, god I need to write again), it's also about like, the mechanisms behind rape culture.

there's a study I remember reading about how cishet couples tend to rely on non-verbal communication vs non-cishet couples wrt initiating sex. and that kind of stuck with me, because if you want to create a society wherein rape is considered relatively normal...creating a culture where talking about consent isn't the cultural norm would be a place to start.

and then, for example, when you look at Samandriel in Expectations - he's right. in a world where omegas are basically chattel, marriage, and a softer face on the violence usually is as much structural power as people can have to reduce suffering. it's creepy! it's autonomy-violating! but within the system as-constructed, it's genuinely not a bad option.

on the other hand, I've also been thinking about the nature of the monarchy itself - a line that's kind of striking in expectations is "we're all property of the king". This is in the context of the New Eden rebellion, but I still think it's a salient point - historically, rape hasn't always really been considered a violation of someone's personal autonomy, but of their father's property rights (at least among western cultures that I'm familiar with). even now, we see echoes of this history in modern day purity culture & fundamentalism.

so, to me at least, what I hope Consequences to be is an exploration of the mechanisms of violence - even when everyone is trying their best. Even when everyone's a good person, when everyone's kind, and caring, that the sexual violence is baked into the model. and because you can always count on me to be obsessed with either people hurting you because they love you (john & dean behavior), or hurting you without realizing it because they think it's normal (sam behavior).

there's some other relevant points here - the fantasy of arranged marriage AUs, is, imo, to be able to skip the fucking dating apps. somewhere, out there, there is a person who is tailor-made for you, and you just need to be forced into the situation to see it. on the one hand, I'm very sympathetic to this fantasy, but on the other hand, I think in some ways, it's about people being pre-disastered for each other, which to me is very destielcore. Like at their core, Dean and Cas are both fucking crazy, but in ways that are complimentary towards each other. It's literally, man who experiences boundaries as violence vs man who has been part of a hive mind for a billion years - I don't really see how anyone else could handle dating either of them. So a dual violation event (to borrow @astermacguffin's phrasing), is the sort of thing you can build a really crunchy destiel dynamic around.

So, we take this horrific event, that happens relatively (though not completely) privately, as a unique trauma that only Dean & Cas are really able to understand, because they're both unwilling participants. And I think the question I'm asking is, can you still love someone, or be in a healthy relationship with someone after that kind of trauma? What are the limits of forgiveness, and under what circumstances can a relationship be safe for both parties after someone has done something "unforgivable"?

Also, tbh, some of this IS a reaction to the common mentality that rape is worse than death. because like, it's not. rape survivors can recover from PTSD. you can't recover from being in the fucking ground.

I don't know how well I'll be able to pull off the monarchy critique tbh, because, lbr, I enjoy a good royalty/arranged marriage AU, it's a fun little fantasy - and I don't have a good explanation for why I like the royalty part of it, otherwise I'd be making that yet another fic thesis. but, it's what I think about, especially with all of the other thoughts I have swirling around.

[charissekenion]

Newsletter #53: The advert for new Prada Beauty perfume Paradoxe directed by Emma Watson

More and more I’ve been trying to lean into the things that make me, me. Getting a bit obsessed and involved over a particular image, show, campaign or music video is always something I’ve enjoyed doing, but I’ve never really shared it anywhere. But recently, I realised that it could be the way I interact more on social media. I know, social media can be a cesspit of human fails, but it also can be a creative outlet. I just think I’ve always assumed that this outlet involved me having to do dances that make me feel silly, bare my soul, sell my soul for products or rant at the world. Instead I can use it to share the things I’m interested in and if you’re interested too, then hey, it serves another purpose.

So this week’s obsession has been the advert for the new refillable Prada perfume: Paradoxe. Here’s why it’s interesting to me.

What’s a paradox? Firstly, in case you’re sat there wondering exactly what is a paradox - like I was; it’s a statement that may seem contradictory but can be true, or at least make sense. For example, the phrase, ‘less is more.’

The hashtag for the campaign is in itself a paradox: #neverthesamealwaysmyself hints at how although we are individuals, we can take on many forms, literally and figuratively.

The campaign Prada chose actress and activist Emma Watson to be the muse and invited her to write her own script, narrate the story and direct the visuals. It’s actually been hilarious to read some of the comments on sites such as The Daily Fail; a lot of men seem to be really upset that the Harry Potter actress got the gig. What’s interesting is the seeming action of putting the actress in charge, of her vision, how we see her; several comments on YouTube suggest that viewers are truly involved and invested in learning more about Emma not just the new fragrance. I find that interesting because of course it could be a gamble for the brand; this could be a move that’s bigger for the actress than the perfume.

It does seem believable that the vision we’re being shown comes very much from Emma; she has often expressed distaste at how forceful societal norms can be - how turning 30 supposedly means you should have life figured out, have a partner and a family etc. In the ad she asks why should she be framed, when the boxes we create are too small? She says she is always herself, no matter her imperfections, her mood or what is happening. She even goes so far as to say: ‘I am partnered with life itself’, which echoes something she said a few years ago about being ‘self-partnered’ and at the time that statement was widely mocked in the press and online.

Today it’s a refreshing message and definitely works with Prada’s own iconic minimalism. Miuccia Prada has been at the helm of the family brand since 1978, and she is the one who instilled an almost severe yet fun approach to fashion. Her collections have often looked a little like school uniforms, from pleated skirts and crisp button-up shirts to stiff coats, but there’s always been an element of frivolity.

When it comes to the new ad, the brand’s own ideals are still there, but there is also a strong reference to ‘90s ideals and beliefs, especially where imaginings of what the future might look like are concerned. For instance the multiple television screens and industrial settings, complete with puddles and heavy boots, definitely look back to music video trends of the ‘90s. It’s also got this dreamy yet earthy vibe - kind of a hopeful note – showing Emma doing yoga surrounded by nature, dancing in the open air and painting a huge work of art. While it does show Emma wearing a virtual reality headset, which is of course a nod to our immediate, very real future, it still feels like a very idealist and yet nostalgic vision of the future, which might make sense as the actress is in her 30s.

While descriptions of the fragrance so far have been limited to big, fruity and floral with hints of leather, as per the Fragrantica site, on Prada Beauty’s YouTube channel a list of three ingredients and descriptions (perhaps reflecting the 3 sides of the isosceles triangle that also denotes the iconic Prada logo) go as follows:

The freshness of Neroli buds

The sensuality of Amber

The intensity of Musk

While that’s a limited description it does sound like something I’d want to try - I love musk and am definitely into the freshness of Neroli. Those three notes also feature in Narciso Rodriguez’s 2021 Neroli Ambree fragrance, which is quite fruity. On the new Prada Beauty Instagram there is also imagery showing vanilla pods, and on their website they mention Jasmine, so I’m not sure if all of these ingredients feature in the new fragrance or if there’s something else we can expect.

One thing’s for sure, I don’t think it will be long before Prada lovers will have to wait for makeup - back in 2019 Prada signed a contract with L’Oreal to license their fragrances so makeup is likely to be next. I’m personally quite excited about this, as Prada’s always been one of the fashion houses to skew our definitions of beauty when it comes to its shows. The legendary makeup artist Pat McGrath is often the one that Prada calls on to create magical, sometimes futuristic, always imperfect makeup looks behind the scenes, so I’m really intrigued as to where a potential makeup collection could take us.

For me what is most interesting is just how Prada has managed to capture our attention - even if it’s only until the next beauty launch. The brand has of course launched other perfumes - I used to wear Candy myself - but it seems like it’s enjoying a new evolution since designer Raf Simons joined Miuccia Prada as Co-creative director in 2020. It’s been said that Raf himself is obsessed with the Prada triangle, so I’m wondering if he had any influence over the ad as we see the triangle referenced in buildings, in Emma’s Euphoria-style eye makeup and in her Prada earrings.

Of course the biggest celebration of the triangle comes in the shape of the bottle of Prada Paradoxe.

The triangle bottle has rounded edges for softness and the perfume itself is a coral pink, which actually reminds me of the younger Prada brand, Miu Miu. I really like the deep black lid and I think it might provide a hint re how the potential branding of a makeup line could look. I did read on the Fashion Law that back in June last year the brand trademarked a simplified, black version of their branding, and that makes perfect sense for a strong beauty look. Also, it should be noted that Prada has never taken part in logomania culture – as often utilised by Louis Vuitton and Gucci, and instead has always preferred to hint at luxury or coolness, remaining discreet and minimalist, so again it would be interesting to see how that plays out in makeup, or even possibly skincare. It’s still early days but so far I’m seeing a lot of people comparing the bottle with the Guess triangle and the bottle of the Valentino V fragrance from 2005. What I’m really after are real reviews of the fragrance itself. Watch the full ad here:

What do you think? Are you ready for Prada Beauty?

Find out more at https://www.prada-beauty.com/paradoxe.html

If you’d like to receive this newsletter each week, direct to your inbox, please subscribe at https://beautymenotes.substack.com/

[solarsavoy]

WIP Wednesday, Krystar!

For being the main subject of my Monday posts, it's kind of weird I haven't talked about this yet. So here we go.

Krystar is meant to be an epic fantasy targeted at new adults, age 18-25. Deshi, 16yo male, gets randomly isekai'd to another planet and obtains a god relic. It's meant to speak to anyone that's reluctant to do things out of the norm while also wishing to be somewhere else, like in their own anime or game. This is Deshi. He uses videogames as an escape and gets his wish only to find out that he actually has no idea what he's doing and everything is trying to kill him. And a lot of things get really close to succeeding.

I think he almost dies twice in the First Fragment. Gotta love those natural D20s. (AKA for those that don't know DND, he's very lucky without a luck stat. So very lucky.)

The Fragment series, which will consist of five books, focuses on Deshi as he breaks out of the indecisive nature he's always had and rises up to save his soul mate, the princess. There's a lot of twists and turns that should turn the chosen one trope on his head, but no spoilers. Let's just say he's uniquely qualified, but he was picked at random. If anything, by accident. 😏

I currently have First, Second and Third Fragment written but only the First one is consumer ready. Even so, I've put it on hold temporarily as I figure out just how I want to self publish it. In the meantime, if anyone wants to become a Tier 1 Patron, I'll start posting the First Fragment by chapter twice a week. Once you've read the first book, Patrons will have an opportunity to become beta readers for the other Fragments. (Others I've asked to be beta readers already can still be beta readers whether or not you are a Patron.) If you'd like to support me as a writer and artist, become a Patron today!

Moving on. I also have half of the Fourth and Fifth Fragments written. (Don't ask. It's complicated and contains spoilers if I explain how that happened.)

After the Fragment series will be a standalone called Lost Fragments. Lost Fragments contains 3 smaller stories called Peace Bringer, Gerit, and Mythren. Gerit is finished, but I'm doing art (or slacking, really) for it as I publish it on AO3. It should be the only one I put on AO3 and I'll be taking it down when the other two stories are finished and I'm ready to publish the book. It comes with a lot of content warnings, but it's surprisingly wholesome despite them. You know, since it's popular at the moment, think Sandman. There are very dark and suggestive themes in Gerit, but the story is what matters.

These three stories are related to the world of Krystar, but do not interact with the Fragment series. At least directly. They sort of provide some background for the world. But it's really a sort of prelude to the second series of Krystar, the Echo series.

The Echo series will also consist of five books (all Stag's fault by the way) and focuses on the lives of five other individuals. The first one will be called Echoes of Stag. I have names for the others, but they are spoilers. 😏 And Echoes of Stag is complete. Just needs editing. It does have to be read after the Fragment series though, even though the spoilers are mostly in the epilogue.

The Echoes series brings all the other stories together and an end to the world of Krystar, which brings me to the 12th and final book, Reign of Mynt.

Reign of Mynt follows Mynti, Mythren's daughter, as she attempts to claim her rightful place as a Kares royal. Like Lost Fragments, it's a side story simply set in the same world, but there will be hints of all the happenings from the other books in this one. It would not be the way it is if the other eleven books didn't happen. 😁

Should be interesting.

And that is the general overview of Krystar! Thanks for reading. Let me know if you're interested in me doing a WIP Wednesday for Peace Bringer or Mythren. The other stories are either finished already/waiting for edits or contain spoilers, so unfortunately, those are the only ones I can really do a WIP Wednesday for. Have a good day!

[uncertainwalls]

5

On the third evening since entering the town, I pushed open the door of that building. It was an unremarkable old stone structure, situated a short walk east along the river road, just beyond the central square facing the old bridge. No signs adorned the entrance; to those unfamiliar, it might not have appeared to be a library at all. A simple brass plate bore the engraved number "16" lacking any pomp or flourish. The plate had tarnished with time, and the letters were difficult to read.

The heavy wooden door creaked as it opened inward, revealing a dim square room. Not a soul in sight. The ceiling was high, the light from the wall-mounted lamp was feeble, and the air carried a faint scent akin to someone's dried sweat. Everything seemed to be veiled in a dimness ready to disintegrate into molecules and be absorbed into some unseen place. The worn cedar floorboards creaked sharply with each step, echoing throughout. Two tall windows adorned the walls, and not a single piece of furniture occupied the space.

At the far end of the room was a door. It was a simple wooden door with a frosted glass window at face level, bearing the same number "" in an old-fashioned decorative font. A faint light shone through the frosted glass. After lightly knocking on the door and receiving no response, I waited. No footsteps were audible. After steadying my breath and turning the discolored brass knob, I gently opened the door. The door creaked, almost as if warning the surroundings that someone had arrived.

Beyond the door was another square room, approximately five meters on each side. The ceiling wasn't as high as in the previous room. Again, no sign of anyone. There were no windows, only walls of plastered stucco. No paintings, photographs, posters, calendars, and certainly no clocks—just bare, flat walls. There was a modest wooden bench, two small chairs, a table, and a wooden coat rack. Coats weren't hanging on the rack. In the center of the room stood an old-fashioned wood-burning stove, rusted and emitting a fiery glow, upon which black pots and cans emitted steam. At the far end, what seemed like a lending counter was positioned, with an open ledger upon it, as if someone (likely a librarian) had left it halfway through some task. Perhaps this someone would return to this room before long.

Behind the counter, there was a dark door that seemed to lead to the archives. This, then, was indeed the "library." Even though not a single book was in sight, the unmistakable aura of a library remained. Whether large or small, old or new, it carried the distinct atmosphere that libraries all around the world possess.

I hung my heavy coat on the coat rack, sat on the hard wooden bench, and warmed my hands by the stove's heat as I waited for someone to appear. The room was filled with absolute silence, akin to the depths of a still pond. I coughed slightly, just to break the silence, but even that didn't sound like a cough here.

You opened the door that led to the archives and emerged about fifteen minutes later (at least, I think it was about that long; with no clock, I couldn't be precise). Seeing me seated on the bench, you momentarily stiffened, your body tensing, your eyes widening. Then, taking a slow breath, you spoke, "I apologize for keeping you waiting. I didn't know someone was here."

Words I should say escaped me, and I merely nodded a few times. Your voice wasn't quite your voice—it differed from the voice I remembered. Perhaps, in this room, all sounds and voices resonated differently from the norm.

The lid of a container suddenly clattered, as if awoken, and it shivered like a small startled creature.

"By the way, what brings you here?" you inquired.

I was here for the "Ancient Dream."

"The 'Ancient Dream,'" I replied, showing you a pair of deep green glasses. They were unmistakably the eyes of a Dream Reader. They couldn't withstand the harsh daylight.

"I understand. Only Dream Readers are allowed to touch the 'Ancient Dream,'" you said, your gaze briefly dropping. Perhaps my eyes unsettled your composure. But there was no choice—I had to alter my eyes this way to enter this town.

"Are you starting work today?" you asked.

I nodded. "I still don't know if I can read them effectively, but I have to get used to it little by little."

The room remained as silent as before. Not even a single sound echoed. The container that had stirred had returned to its silence. You finished your incomplete task with the ledger and neatly stored it away on a shelf behind you. I watched you from the bench. Outwardly, you hadn't changed at all. You were the same as that summer evening. I recalled your bright red sandals and the locust that had suddenly taken flight from the nearby grass.

"I wonder if we've met somewhere before?" I involuntarily asked, even though I knew it was a futile question.

You raised your gaze from the ledger, holding a pencil in your left hand (yes, you were left-handed, both in this town and wherever you may be). You shook your head.

"I don't think we've met," you replied. Your respectful tone was likely because you remained sixteen while I was already seventeen. I had become an older man in your eyes. It couldn't be helped, but the passage of time stung my heart.

After finishing your incomplete task with the records, you closed the ledger, put it back on the shelf, and began brewing herbal tea for me. You took a container from the stove and carefully combined the hot water with crushed herbs, creating a rich green brew. You poured it into a large ceramic cup and placed it in front of me. This was a special beverage provided for Dream Readers, and it was one of your duties to prepare it.

I sipped the herbal tea slowly. It carried a distinct, slightly bitter taste that wasn't easy to drink. Yet its nutrients healed my still aching eyes and calmed my mind. It was a special drink for this purpose. You watched me from across the table, concerned about whether I liked the herbal tea you had prepared. I nodded slightly, assuring you that it was fine. You responded with a relieved smile, a familiar smile I hadn't seen in a long time.

The room was warm and quiet. Time moved silently, even without a clock, like a slender cat walking soundlessly atop a wall.

[sas-archived]

I knew like 16 year old me was onto something with the concept of Echoes. Question is how the fuck do I play around with it.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

One Shot Werewolf Story

So... first of all, Next part of PFTS should be coming out soon. It's going to take some work to make sure that I pull all the threads that's I've placed in all the worlds together without plot holes, so apologize for how long it's taking. Will probably finish this last world in 2-3 parts, with possibly 1 or two extra parts from Liam and the Traveler's perspective.

Now, back to the story at hand. About a week ago, I wandered into the werewolf side of Wattpad. It was very... interesting. Never written about werewolves before. Thought it might be fun to try my own using my own style. (Women who constantly think they aren't pretty or good enough for the man, men who force physical intimacy and growl "mine" aren't really going to work for me.)

Anyways, It's about a 13k oneshot. It's a bit out of my norm, so I hope you guys enjoy! (Also I would love to hear ideas on what to title this.)

Here it is:

________________________

“I can’t believe you read this garbage!” Alyssa’s coworker held up the book in her hand, staring at it with disgust. “What do you see in books like this, anyways?”

Alyssa sighed, looking up at the book in question. The cover showed a shirtless muscular man holding a busty woman while scowling at the camera, with the title written across the top in bright orange words: “The Alpha’s Timid Mate.”

“I don’t read it for fun.” She muttered, reaching up and snatching the book back. Opening the large roller suitcase behind her, she found its place among the hundreds of other werewolf books and put it away carefully.

“Then what is it?” Her coworker asked with a tone of disbelief.

“Research.”

“Really? Research? For what? When your werewolf boyfriend shows up out of nowhere? “ She let out a derisive snort. “Sure.”

“…You don’t understand.”

She doesn’t understand us. The wolf in Alyssa’s head spoke up silently.

“That’s what I said.”

Can we eat her? Her wolf seemed excited by the idea.

“No. You know we can’t. You don’t even really want to. You’re just acting out because you’re upset I won’t let you watch horror movies any more.”

I am not acting out! But since you mentioned it… bring back the horror movies!

“No.”

“What are you talking about?” Her coworker frowned; confused by the conversation she could only hear half of.

Turning to her briefly, Alyssa shrugged. “Sorry, I’m just having a small discussion. I’ll be free to talk shortly.”

“Don’t bother.” The girl walked away, whispering under her breath. “Freak.”

Should have just eaten her.

“Wolves don’t even eat people. Stop pretending.”

How do you know? Maybe WEREwolves DO eat people! You have no clue! You haven’t found a pack yet. Even though you PROMISED!

“I know, I know.” Alyssa rubbed her forehead tiredly. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

I’m lonely and bored! I want to go run! I want a pack!

“Anything else, Your Highness? A bone on a silver platter?”

The wolf paused at that, pouting quietly … I’m hungry. Feed us something tasty.

“That I can do. We’ll eat on our lunch break.”

Steak?

“…We’ll see.”

As her wolf silently cheered, the door to the bookstore she was tending opened. A strange smell reached her nose. Mint and pine along with another scent she couldn’t quite place.

Alyssa looked up and was startled. The man who walked in looked like he had stepped off the cover of one of her werewolf books. Muscular, handsome… his brown hair just long enough to frame his green eyes. And tall… Alyssa had always known she was short, but never felt quite so at a disadvantage height wise as she did at the man’s approach.

He looks like the lead from book #298. Her wolf suggested in an interested tone.

“I was thinking book #645, but I see your point.”

Why do you think he’s here?

“I don’t know.”

As he moved closer, his gaze meeting her own, Alyssa stepped back, the sound of her wolf’s growl filling her mind.

HE’S A WEREWOLF! … even better, he smells strong… an ALPHA? QUICK, MATE HIM!

An alpha? Crap. Alyssa had done enough research to know that was bad news. “Look here, missy, I am not assaulting some stranger just because…”

Then let’s switch over to wolf so I can do it!

“No!”

“Excuse me…” The man spoke up, his voice hesitant and trailing off.

Alyssa turned and hurried out the back. Passing through the bookshelves, she heard someone following close behind, and picked up the pace. The door squeaked loudly as she forced it open, slamming against the wall as she broke out into a run towards the back alley.

“Wait!” The man’s voice called out.

Seeing that they were now alone, she stopped in her tracks, and turned, more irritated than nervous. “What?”

“…” He seemed thrown off by her sudden change, but shook his head, studying her closely. The man seemed to recognize something, and moved quickly to stand next to her. “You’re…” His eyes widened, and he reached out to grab her. “A werewolf? My mate?!”

YES! I knew it! Her wolf’s scream of excitement echoed in her mind.

Alyssa sighed tiredly, reaching into her bag. “Well, crap.”

________________________

It had been a terrible day.

Lewis listened to his family arguing, wishing for the thousandth time that he wasn’t in charge.

“Nightfang’s pack could wipe us out!” Gary, his Beta, slammed his fist on the table, the force of it scattering plates and cups.

Lewis’s mother stood up, and despite her height only coming only to the enormous man’s chin he shrunk down in fear. “…Did you just mess up my kitchen?”

“…”

“Then you’re gonna be a good boy and clean that up right now, yes?” She raised an eyebrow. “Or you won’t have to worry about that Nightfang pack. There won’t be enough of you left for them to fight over once I’m through.”

“…I’ll clean it up right away, Ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought.” She turned to Lewis, patting his shoulder comfortingly. “What’s you plan to deal with this, dear?”

“My plan?” His voice came out slightly more stressed than he meant it to.

“Well, you’re the alpha. Your father left it to you to protect us. “

“Yes. Of course… a plan… which I definitely have.”

Gary and his mate Berta glanced at each other from the other side of the table.

“He doesn’t have a plan.”

“Did you really expect him to?”

“Hey!” At Lewis’s hurt exclamation, Gary shrugged.

“No offense, Alpha, but since your broth… since Nightfang left and took half the pack with him, things have been a little disorganized. You have to admit that’s true.”

Lewis walked over to the window of the cabin, leaning on the sill and staring up at the cloudy sky. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to help each other. Help the pack. But now it’s all just one huge mess and I’m the only one left to take care of it.

Hey, you’re not alone! His wolf’s irritated voice burst out. I’m always here. We’re stuck together for life!

I’m aware. He chuckled quietly. Glad to have you, Buddy.

So… Can we go find our mate now?

You know we can’t. There could be an attack any day now. Besides, I’ve already visited all the packs within driving distance. She’s not there.

Maybe she’s human, like our mom. We should go to town and find her.

Yeah, just go to town and pick up a mate like going to the grocery store to pick up milk. No problem with that.

She’s probably waiting for us! She’s wondering what’s taking us so long to find her. What if she thinks we can’t provide for her? Hurry, you have to find her…. Bring steak… no… four steaks… fatty ones! It will show that we can feed her… make her fat! She’ll definitely want to mate with us then!

Nothing turns women on more than shoving red meat in their face and telling them that you’ll help them gain weight.

Like you would know? Who have you dated? Regale me with tales of your vast experience.

Hey! You haven’t dated either.

I have instincts, at least.

“Lewis?” Gary’s voice broke him from his silent talk with his wolf.

He turned back “We’ll tighten up the patrol schedule.” He rubbed his forehead.

“It will mean giving up territory.”

“I’m aware.” The words came out as a growl. Territory was everything. In the old days it was a pack’s survival. The instinct to protect it at all costs remained, but Lewis had no choice. “Their safety matters more.”

The pack has to be protected first.

Agree. His wolf sounded unhappy, but stood by him, as always.

“Alright then. Continue with training, and preparing for if Nightfang brings his pack for war.” Lewis sighed. “Hopefully they’ll wait until the colder weather passes.”

Although it might be just delaying the inevitable.

“You are all dismissed.” As he stood up, however, his mother stopped him with a smile.

“Can you pick up some milk, dear? I’m out.”

“… Sure, Mom.” He held back a laugh thinking about his conversation with his wolf, knowing that no one else would get the joke. Maybe I’ll pick up my mate while I’m there.

He headed into town.

As he parked his car and walked towards the supermarket, however, his wolf suddenly started shouting in his head.

She’s here!

Lewis frowned. Who? Nightfang or one of his followers?

No, you idiot! Our mate!

Where? He skidded to a halt, staring around frantically. His heart started to race, as he prepared to meet his soulmate… the one he had been waiting for his entire life.

In the bookstore! His wolf wasn’t much better, barely able to communicate in its excitement.

He opened the door, ignoring the soft chime that sounded out to alert a new customer’s arrival. His eyes scanned the room, trying to spot… something. A familiar face, a special feeling. How do you know if someone is your mate…?

His silent voice trailed off in shock as he stared at… her.

She was beautiful.

Dark curls, the tips just barely brushing her shoulders. She was short… very short. He felt awkwardly tall, wondering if she would dislike his height. She seemed to be packing a book into a suitcase, but then turned to face him.

Her grey eyes widened at the sight of him.

Does she feel it too?

QUICK, FEED HER!

With what?!!! I don’t have any food!

Why didn’t you bring the steaks?!!! Now she’s going to think we’re weak and she’ll starve as our mate! What if she leaves us?!!

Human women don’t need steaks for courtship… watch.

Lewis cleared his throat. “Excuse me…”

She turned and rushed out of the store.

…

…

…You were saying?

…Maybe you were right about the steaks.

He followed her out to the back of the shop, cringing at the suspicious looks that the customers in the shop gave him.

I’m chasing after a girl into a back alley. I’ll be lucky if no one calls the cops.

She’s our mate! We could never hurt her!

They don’t know that. She might not even know that!

To his shock she stopped and turned around once they were out of the store. Placing her hands on her hips, she glared at him. “What?”

“…” She was even more mesmerizing up close. Lewis nervously cleared his throat, stepping closer.

Her scent filled his senses. Lilac and spring and… wolf?

She’s a werewolf! That’s awesome! Let’s shift and show her how strong our wolf form is. It’s much better looking than the human look.

“You’re…” Feeling stunned, he reached out, wanting to touch her, to hold her hand. “A werewolf? My mate?”

This is amazing! His mate, his soulmate was standing right in front of him. Would she be happy too? Was she excited to meet us?

She didn’t seem shocked. Didn’t seem happy either… or angry, or afraid. Her face just showed mild… annoyance?

Does she not feel the bond?

“Well, crap.”

As she spoke out with a matter of fact tone, Lewis’s hand neared her shoulder, only to spasm and drop as he fell to the ground shaking. His mate stood over him, staring down at him blankly, the Taser in her hand still sparking.

Well, crap. He silently echoed his mate’s words as darkness overcame him.

________________________

Alyssa sat on her favorite chair, holding her favorite mug, drinking her favorite tea, wrapped in her favorite blanket, hoping it would improve her mood.

It wasn’t working.

Mostly due to the large man on her living room floor, just now waking up from the effects of her Taser… and the large animal sedative she stuck him with after he went down. He blinked his eyes, seeming confused and disoriented.

He’s adorable. I bet his wolf is good looking! Can you ask him to shift? Her wolf hadn’t shut up since they met the other werewolf.

“Shush. He’s waking up now. It would be rude to ask him before we’ve talked. “

Spoilsport. At least show him all the hamburger meat we have frozen.

“Why would he want to see our hamburger meat?”

THAT will show him how effective we are at gathering food! We can be an asset to his pack! If he doesn’t have a pack he should follow us around, and we can fatten him up! … he’s too skinny.

“He’s not skinny… he’s very muscular.”

What if there’s not enough prey in the winter? His muscles will go away. He should have a nice little layer of fat.

“Do not fatten him up! I like him like this.”

“Excuse me?” The man on her living room floor struggled to sit up. Leaning back against her TV stand, he blinked a few more times, obviously still fighting off the tranquilizer. Looking around, he just seemed more confused. “Where am I?”

“My home.” Alyssa told him, taking another sip of her tea.

“Ah.” He paused, awkwardly shifting his weight and raising his hands which were tied together with silver chains, like his ankles. “Why am I tied up?”

“…” She stared at him silently a few moments. “You’re a werewolf.”

“…Yes. So are you?”

“You said I was your mate.”

He blushed at that, avoiding eye contact. “Sorry. I know that was awkward. I was surprised. I’ve been looking for years since I reached adulthood.”

“You’re an alpha?”

“Yes.” Straightening his spine, he forced a cocky looking grin. “A strong alpha of a great pack.”

“So now you know why you’re tied up.”

“…pardon?”

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “I’ve done enough research to know when an alpha finds his mate, it tends to get physical… and non-consensual… real quick.”

He still seemed confused. “Research?”

She set down her tea and blanket and dragged over the enormous roller suitcase. Opening it, she displayed hundreds of paperback romance books. She pulled one out, showing off the cover, which showed a half-naked muscular man holding a woman tightly as she half-heartedly pushed him away.

The bound man looked at the picture. “The Reluctant Mate of an Alpha? What is this?”

“There are 983 books on werewolves in my possession.” She pulled out her notebook, quickly flipping to the “alpha” section. “88% of them feature an alpha werewolf as the male lead… and 92% of those characters force their mate to engage in physical intimacy… mostly hugging and kissing… within the first few minutes of meeting them.”

“You… you’re getting your information from romance books?” He looked horrified. “Where’s your pack?”

“No pack. Abandoned as a baby. I grew up in the foster system.”

A low angry growl sounded from his chest. “What pack abandons a child?!”

“The kind of pack that I’m probably better off being abandoned than raised by.” She tapped the book again. “Back to the fact that I’m apparently the mate to an alpha wolf.”

“Not apparently!” He looked distressed still. “You ARE! Can’t you sense it?”

She ignored him, putting the book back carefully. “You know that alpha wolves aren’t even a natural thing… only happens with wolves in captivity. Wolves in the wild tend to form family units. “

“…But we aren’t normal wolves? We wouldn’t have the exact same pack structure.”

“Exactly. Thus I can’t use my wolf encyclopedia to gain information.” She frowned. “That would have been preferable, honestly. I don’t really like the alphas in these stories.”

If you’re not going to mate with him… can we eat him?

“Stop asking to eat people. You know the answer.”

Lewis’s eyes grew wide. “Did you say ‘eat PEOPLE?”

“Don’t worry. There’s a strict ‘no eating people’ rule. It’s just a phase she’s gone through since I let her watch 80s horror werewolf flicks. She thinks its funny, but its not. “ She threw her hands up helplessly. “This is WHY we are on a horror movie ban!”

This is unfair!

“It’s perfectly fair! Even if you ignore the moral implications, you wouldn’t even like the taste of human flesh!”

What about hot sauce? Didn’t you say hot sauce makes every thing taste better?

“Yes… hot sauce does make everything taste better.”

“Wait… are you going to EAT me?” Lewis questioned with a panicked tone, scooting backwards closer to the door.

“No. I told you, there’s a firm ‘no eating people’ rule in place. We’re done discussing that.”

“But…”

“We’re discussing whether or not hot sauce would make your flesh taste better if we ate you… hypothetically.”

“Oh.” He thought it over. “I do like hot sauce. But I don’t think wolves do.”

“No. It would give them diarrhea, probably.” Alyssa nodded. “See. Even hot sauce wouldn’t help.”

Then if we aren’t going to eat him, can we please just MATE with him?

“No eating. No mating.”

“Wait, can we not put a strict no mating rule in place just yet? At least not a permanent one?” He paused. “Also, if I promise not to engage in any alpha behaviors like you see in your ‘research’, can I please be untied?”

“…” She studied him warily. “I suppose.”

“Great!” He held out his wrists, smiling with relief as she started to untie him.

“I have plenty of tranquilizer anyways.” She muttered.

“…pardon?”

The bonds slipped free. The man rubbed his wrists, careful to not make any sudden movements. Relieved by his apparent honesty in not trying anything, Alyssa headed back to her chair and wrapped herself back in her blanket.

Grabbing her tea, she took a sip of the lukewarm liquid and smiled. “So what brought the great alpha into my place of work today? Were you looking for me?”

________________________

Lewis was unsure how to answer his mate. Panicking, he said the first thing he thought of.

“Actually I was going to go buy milk.”

She raised an eyebrow. “In the bookstore?”

“Yes! I mean, no!” He covered in his face. “I was on my way to the supermarket, when my wolf… sensed you.”

She tilted her head, seeming more interested. “Your wolf? What’s he like?”

TELL HER I AM VERY STRONG!

“Umm… he’s strong…”

TELL HER I CAN MAKE HER FAT!!

No!

How else will she know I can provide food for her and our children?!

No. I’m not saying we’ll make her fat!

ITS IMPORTANT! TELL HER HOW FAT WE CAN MAKE HER!

“Are you okay?”

“WE’LL MAKE YOU REALLY FAT!” Lewis blurted out… and then stared at the ground in embarrassed horror.

“…” There was a long silence.

“My wolf says that’s very attractive.” She shook her head. “She wants you to know that we have several pounds of hamburger in our freezer and that we are happy to contribute food to you and your family.”

She’s smart and stores plenty of meat in her freezer! Please convince her to stay as our mate!

“So would you like to come visit our pack? He asked, wincing as she pulled what appeared to be a miniature Taser out of thin air. “Just visiting! No mating!” He relaxed as she hid the Taser away again “…Where were you even keeping that?”

“Secret pocket in the sleeve…. It’s not my only one, so don’t think I’ve given you any advantage.”

Lewis tried to think of something that would appeal to her. “I know you don’t have a pack… it would be a chance to get to know others like you… “

“… I would be able to refine my research…” She muttered, staring down at her notebook. “Plus my wolf really wants to…”

SHE’S GOING TO SAY YES!

Shush!

“Sure. Why not?” She shrugged, holding out her hand. “I guess we should officially meet if we’re going back to your pack together. I’m Alyssa.”

Alyssa! Her name is pretty!

“Nice to meet you Alyssa.” Lewis smiled brightly. “I’m Lewis.” He shook her hand, trying to stay calm at the shocking feeling of touching her. It was almost painful, as if every cell in his body were screaming at him that he’s met his soulmate. Overwhelmed, confused, he glanced over at his mate, only to see her calm expression.

Does she not feel this? Are we just delusional?

She’s our mate! Of course she feels it!

She’s not acting like it. Maybe we’re wrong? Lewis felt a stabbing pain in his chest at the thought. She was his mate. He had waited his whole life to meet her. He belonged to her.

What if she doesn’t want us?

… His wolf didn’t have an answer to that.

Maybe she can sense our weakness… our failure.

No… we’re not weak! We’re alpha of a strong pack!

That’s fallen apart because most of them felt I wasn’t the best one for the job.

We have to be strong. We can’t fail our pack or our mate. Don’t show weakness!

I’ll try.

Lewis forced a calm smile as he looked at Alyssa. “Should we head over and meet the pack?”

“Hmm… Aren’t you forgetting something?” She angled her head, studying him.

“What?”

“Didn’t you say you were on your way to pick up milk when you met me?”

“OH SHOOT!” He jumped to his feet. “I’m glad you said something! You saved my life!”

“By remembering milk?”

“You don’t realize how horrible my death would be at my mom’s hands if I had forgotten it.”

“…” She raised an eyebrow, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. “You’re welcome, then.”

I like her smile! Let’s help make her smile more!

Agree.

Lewis ran to pick up some milk while she packed a bag for the trip. When he returned, he was shocked by the number of suitcases she had brought with her.

“Are all these clothes?”

“Don’t be silly.” She looked at him like he was an idiot. “It’s my research.”

He was almost afraid to ask, but felt he had to. “… They’re all filled with werewolf romance books… aren’t they?

“Not just books… “ Alyssa seemed a little defensive. “There’s some weapons. And a few changes of clothes.”

“If you’re staying a few days at least, do you need to take off work?”

She shook her head. “No need.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. “

“…Okay.” He didn’t want to pry. At least not yet. Maybe one day she’ll trust us enough to tell us more.

He packed her bags into the car, glad for his superhuman strength as he lifted the suitcases filled to the brim with books. Alyssa sat in the passenger seat, clutching a notebook and a small messenger bag, which also appeared to be filled with books. As they headed outside of town, an awkward silence fell between them.

Say something witty! His wolf finally lost patience with Something that will make her think we’re smart!

Open to any suggestions, Buddy. I’m having trouble thinking straight with our mate so close, much less think of something smart to say!

Aren’t you supposed to be the more intelligent half? I’m supposed to be the stronger one.

You’re the one always saying that wolves are super intelligent creatures and I should listen to you more!

Now we’re being silent for too long! What if she thinks we’re an idiot?!

You’re not helping…

“So how do werewolves mate?” Alyssa asked calmly, the question almost causing Lewis to swerve off the road in shock.

“…”

…

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you. Could you repeat the question?”

“How do werewolves mate?”

… I think I preferred the awkward silence.

No! This is good! She’s showing an interest in mating!

“Umm… Not differently than humans… you learned about that in health class, right?” He desperately hoped he would not have to have a “birds and bees” talk with his mate right after meeting her.

“Oh.” She sounded slightly disappointed. “So we don’t mate in wolf form?”

I’m game.

SHUT UP.

“Typically no… I mean I guess it’s possible…” He felt himself turn bright red, feeling super uncomfortable. “But usually its in human form… at least from my understanding of what mated couples say.”

“Hmm..” She seemed to be listening to something. “No, I don’t think his wolf is impotent. I think it’s a cultural thing.”

HER WOLF THINKS I’M IMPOTENT, WE’RE SHIFTING NOW!

We are currently driving down a highway! We are not shifting any time soon! Besides, what on earth do you think you’re going to do in wolf form that’s going to convince her otherwise?

I’ll show her my genitals, to reassure her.

THAT DOES NOT REASSURE WOMEN! ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US TASED?!

“So I bet that means that werewolf pregnancy follows human rules then. “ She sighed, frowning while pulling out her notebook and writing a few things down. “There was only 3% of books that presented mating and pregnancy while in wolf form, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“… I see.”

“How long does pregnancy last? 19% of the books depict a shorter pregnancy cycle, but I wasn’t sure if it was just to get the plot to move faster.”

“Normal 9 months.”

“Number of children per pregnancy?”

“One… unless you have twins.”

She groaned, leaning back in her chair. “So no advantages at all? So disappointing.”

SHE’S DISAPOINTED! TELL HER TWINS RUN IN OUR FAMILY! WE’LL GIVE HER SO MANY CHILDREN!

“Twins run in our family!” Lewis nearly shouted.

“Really?” Alyssa studied him, looking slightly interested. “Do you have a twin?”

Great. I really had to bring HIM up.

“I do… but he left the pack.”

“Does that happen often?”

“No.”

“I see…” She made a few more notes. “Obviously the villain.”

“…” I mean, she’s not wrong. “Any other questions?” Please be something easy.

“Will mating with another werewolf change my menstrual cycle?”

“…”

…

Do you know?

Nope. Nothing in the instincts about this. Do you?

Nope.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry, I don’t know the answer to that question. One of the pack might be able to answer it. Maybe Bridget? She seems pretty knowledgeable.”

“Bridget? Your sister?”

“No… she’s just one of the warriors in the pack..”

“Hmm…” Alyssa thought that over. “Is she pretty?”

Lewis shrugged. “Seems pretty normal.”

“Do you two get along?”

“She follows orders, so I guess?”

“I see.” He could hear her pen scratching against paper again. “The female side character who will try to chase we away, maybe? How exciting.”

“…” Lewis decided he didn’t want to ask anything about it. For the sake of his sanity if nothing else.

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence.

________________________

Alyssa felt increasingly nervous the closer they got to pack territory.

I think we’re almost there. This area smells different.

“Different how?”

It smells like our mate! I like it!

“Hmm… Do you think he pees on trees to mark his territory?”

Isn’t that normal?

“It’s normal for wolves… do you think he does it in human form too?”

“I DON’T MARK TERRITORY AS A HUMAN!” Lewis spoke out frantically. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not here?!”

She turned to him, curious by his reaction. “Don’t you talk to your wolf?”

“All the time, but I do it SILENTLY!” He paused. “Do you not know how to?”

“Oh I know how to, I just think it’s really rude to leave her out of the general conversation. She’s here too you know.”

“That makes sense… I guess…” He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Well, I assume you know since you were commenting on the scent markings, but yes, we’re in pack territory. “

Alyssa nodded, her heart rate increasing slightly. She didn’t like this. Going to unfamiliar places. Meeting new people. Especially people who may have a culture or rules that she didn’t understand. They might not like her.

How could they not love us? We’re a strong, beautiful female… at least when we’re in wolf form.

“Hey!”

We’ll be just fine.

“I hope so.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

A warm hand hesitantly grasped her own. She felt an electric shock traveling up her fingers from the touch, but kept her face expressionless. “Are you okay?” Lewis’s voice was quiet, a comforting sound.

I like his voice. His touch his very warm!

“If you’re worried… I know that you might not believe me, but the pack is very friendly. You’ll feel very welcome.”

“In 42% of the books the pack is welcoming to a stranger… usually because she’s the alpha’s mate. In the rest they are either wary of the unknown person, or distrustful or unfriendly. “ She thought it over. “I guess it���s not bad odds.”

The car came to a stop. Lewis squeezed her hand one last time, and then stepped out, getting her suitcases from the trunk and back seat. Alyssa stared down at her now empty hand, feeling frustrated.

I trust him.

“You trust everyone. It’s my job to keep us safe.” She got out of the car, staring around at the area. There were several nice houses, all scattered far from each other. The place was quiet, peaceful, surrounded by woods. She liked it.

He won’t hurt us. He can’t. It would be like hurting himself.

“You’d be surprised how low people can sink if they want.”

No I wouldn’t. I lived through all the same experiences with you. But wolves do better with a family. We’ll do better with a pack.

“I haven’t agreed to that yet.”

We’ll see.

Lewis carried her many bags without seeming stressed by the weight. “I’ll bring these into the main house. Do you want to come along? Or you can wait here, I can show you around.”

She glanced around at the forest around her. “I’ll wait here.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back.” He looked slightly worried about separating from her, but after a brief hesitation, he walked away.

Alyssa strolled around the clearing by the car, feeling calmer as she took in the fresh air.

I like it here. We should live here.

“We’ll see.”

Also mate Lewis before another female gets him.

“I don’t think that’s how it works. In 82% of the books, being mates meant soul mates. Only small exceptions made for if mates rejected each other and such… for the drama, I suppose. “

Don’t take chances. Even with an impotent wolf we should claim him sooner rather than later. He has fatty steaks in his house. I can smell them.

“That’s what’s important to you? And I told you, I don’t think his wolf is impotent…”

“WHO ARE YOU?” A strident voice called out.

Alyssa turned to see a beautiful young woman walking towards her with a suspicious expression. She had shorter, curly blond hair and bright green eyes, towering over her in height. Alyssa sighed slightly as she realized she would probably be the shortest werewolf here by a good amount.

We’re short but feisty! Don’t underestimate us!

“I’m Alyssa.” She waved cheerfully. “Who are you?”

“…” The young woman seemed confused. “Bridget.”

The bitch side character! Maybe she’ll shout at us to “stay away from her man!”

“You don’t know that. Maybe she’s nice. She’s pretty.”

She is pretty… but it would be more fun if she were hysterical and tried to scare us off.

“…Who are you talking to?”

“My wolf.” Alyssa grinned at her. “She’s wondering if you are going to scream at us and tell us to stay away from Lewis.”

The woman seemed stunned. “Why would I do that?”

“All the books have it.” She pulled out her notebook and spread out the books from her messenger bag. Holding up one where a woman in a ripped dress stood next to a large wolf titled “The Alpha’s Runaway Love”, she pointed to a smaller, angry looking woman in the background of the cover. “See… in 79% of these stories there’s a strong female side character who is desperately in love with the alpha despite him being mated to the main character and tries to drive her away.”

“… Are those… romance novels….?”

“But I really hope you aren’t that character type. I think you seem like an awesome older sister type.” She stepped closer, which highlighted the height difference between them. “We’ve always wanted a cool, pretty older sister like you. “

“…” Bridget seemed genuinely overwhelmed. “Umm… first of all… I don’t want to scare you away from Lewis… I grew up with the guy. He wet the bed once when I slept over when we were five… ruined my favorite princess sheets…”

Alyssa started taking notes.

“I was just curious about who you were…” She rested a hand on Alyssa’s head, almost seemingly despite herself. “Are you Lewis’ mate?”

“Yep! He found me in a bookstore.” She paused. “Do you know if mating with a werewolf changes your menstrual cycle? I asked Lewis, but he seemed like he was having a seizure and said he didn’t know.”

“…” Bridgett’s face spasmed at that, she seemed to be holding back a laugh.

“Also… I brought hamburger meat… do you want some? “

“So…” Bridget’s voice trailed off.

“So?” Alyssa tilted her head, confused.

“SO CUTE!!!” Alyssa was pulled into an enormous bear hug, squeezed almost uncomfortably tight as Bridget continued to yell. “YOU’RE ADOPTED!”

“What are you doing with my mate?” Lewis’s strained voice made Alyssa want to look over, but she was still trapped in the hug.

“She’s my little sister now, Alpha.” Bridget’s voice was calm, but stern. “If anything happens to her, I will destroy you.”

Alyssa smiled at her as the tall woman set her down. “Really?”

“Really.” Bridget grinned back. “I’ve always wanted a sister too.”

“Awesome!”

As the two girls began chatting excitedly, Lewis cleared his throat. “Guys? I hate to break up the love here, but the pack is gathering to meet Alyssa.”

He walked over towards Alyssa, stopping in his tracks as Bridget grabbed her first and tugged her in the correct direction. “Come on, let’s hurry up! I can’t wait to introduce you to them!”

“She’s MY mate! I want to introduce her!”

“Too bad, so sad, bedwetter! If you weren’t so slow maybe you could have grabbed her first.” She laughed.

“Hey, you promised never to mention that again! What if you scare my mate away?!”

“Even better, she’ll just live with me and my family.”

As they moved, Alyssa tapped her arm, leaning close. “Is this really okay?”

“Is what okay?”

“I mean… he’s your alpha… is it okay to be like this with him?”

Bridget smiled. “Don’t worry. He’s a good alpha… a strong fighter, a capable leader… but he’s very kind. He prefers his pack feel comfortable enough to joke around with him. Says if they can trust him enough to make fun of him that it means they’ll trust him enough to have the uncomfortable conversations as well.”

He’s a good leader.

“Maybe…”

Let’s mate him!

Alyssa groaned at the expected response from her wolf, shaking her head slowly.

They arrived in a clearing in the woods, where twenty or thirty people had gathered. Everyone looked very different, with skin tones, eye and hair color varying widely from person to person. People of all ages chatted excitedly, watching their approach. They did have one thing in common though:

They were all tall.

We’re… tall… too.

“We’re short.” Feeling uncomfortable, she hid behind Bridget, who growled at the crowd.

“Don’t you guys make my sister uncomfortable! Sit down, you’re scaring her.”

The crowd looked very confused at that, but sat down on the grass anyways. Besides the three of them, only one man remained standing. He was enormous, a head taller than even Lewis, who Alyssa already considered very tall. He was broad as well as tall, his muscles nearly bursting out of the flannel shirt he was wearing. His face was covered in a bushy beard, his dark hair cropped close.

Overall Alyssa thought he looked very intimidating. She watched as he approached, a hand grasping her hidden Taser in her sleeve.

“This is my Beta Gary.” Lewis’s calm voice was reassuring, but she refused to relax her vigilance as the large man bent down to look her in the eye. “Gary, this is my mate, Alyssa.”

“Hey there, Alyssa.” The hair-covered face broke into a friendly smile. “We’ve been hoping Lewis would find a nice mate for a while now. Glad you’re here. If anyone gives you trouble you let me know, I’ll knock a few heads in.”

Alyssa grinned back at him. “Nice to meet you, Gary. You’re really large.”

Ask him if we can sit on his shoulder! I want to be tall!

“It would be rude to ask to sit on his shoulder right after meeting him. We’ll ask him later.”

But…

Before her wolf could complain too much, Gary reached out and picked her up easily, placing her on one broad shoulder and steadying her with a single hand. “How’s this?”

Alyssa looked around. “This is GREAT!” She laughed.

Bow before us mortals! WE ARE TALL!

“My wolf is very happy right now. She was sad that we were so much shorter than everyone.”

HEY! You were sad too!

“Well you can ride on my shoulder anytime you want.” Gary laughed. “My mate Berta and I always wanted kids, but…” his voice trailed off slightly. “Well, anyways, feel free to come to us if you ever need help.”

“OR ME!” Bridget burst out. “I’ve already claimed her as my little sister!”

Lewis stared at the three of them, looking slightly tired. “Do I get any time with her as her mate?”

Gary and Bridget glanced at each other. “… We’ll see.”

Putting Alyssa down in front of the pack, Gary winked at her as if to reassure her before taking his place standing behind the Alpha. Lewis stepped forward, his manner becoming stronger, more confident as he addressed the crowd.

“Everyone, this is my mate Alyssa. She’s one of us, but she doesn’t have a pack. So I expect you all to make her feel safe and welcome.” He looked around, smiling as everyone nodded obediently.

“Welcome!”

“We’re glad you’re here!”

“Maybe Lewis will stop moping so much now!”

The cheerful voices of the pack made Alyssa feel calmer. She waved at them, speaking up. “Hey everyone! Like Lewis said, I’m Alyssa. I don’t know much about werewolves… I’ve only grown up around humans, but I’m excited to learn more.”

They seem nice.

Her wolf was happy about the packs’ reactions. No one seemed thrown off by her introduction. No one was glaring at her or even seeming suspicious of her.

It’s a good thing, right?

Before she could respond, Lewis spoke up, distracting her. “Let’s take you back to meet my mom.”

________________________

Lewis was relieved that the pack introduction went so well. Not that he was overly surprised; most of the more disagreeable pack members had left in the split with his brother. Who was left were either the ones too reasonable to be sucked into his rhetoric, or the very loyal ones to himself or his father.

Either way, I guess it’s a good thing.

He led his mate towards his house, breathing a small sigh of relief when Bridget and Gary didn’t insist on following. He liked them both a lot, but they could be a lot. Especially since they seemed to have instantly bonded with Alyssa.

Just admit it. We’re jealous. We want to bond with Alyssa too.

We don’t know what all she’s been through. She was abandoned by her pack as an infant. Her only knowledge of us doesn’t paint Alpha’s in a good light… or at least they don’t seem to. Lewis resolved to get his hands on some of those books and read through this. It might help us understand how she views us… and how to reassure her.

I like her. His wolf’s voice was filled with a patient care. Even if she doesn’t like us just yet, I hope she’s happy and feels safe here.

I do too. Lewis desperately wanted to reassure his mate. He could feel her anxiety through the bond. Even when she was smiling she didn’t feel safe. But he didn’t know how to help just yet.

They reached the house, and as they were about to enter, the door swung open and Lewis’s mother rushed out. Making a beeline for Alyssa, she hugged her tightly, grinning.

“I’M SO HAPPY YOU’RE HERE!”

Alyssa seemed shocked at the sudden appearance of his mother. Lewis tried to step in. “Mom, don’t scare her…”

“Finally someone normal sized!” Alyssa burst out, hugging his mother back.

“I know, right? They’re all way too tall!” Lewis’s mother stepped back, patting her head fondly. “I forgive them since they’re all such good people, but still, I’m happy to have someone I don’t have to strain my neck to look at.”

“Mom, this is Alyssa, my mate.”

“I figured as much dear. You’ve never paid so much attention and care to a single person before. “ She grabbed Alyssa’s hand. “Come in, I made food.”

Our mother understands! She’ll show our mate how much food we can provide!

Alyssa glanced at him. “My wolf wants to make sure that the hamburger meat we brought got put in the fridge.”

“I took care of it.” Lewis puffed out his chest, feeling accomplished.

His mother just shook her head. “Boys. Why don’t you take her bags up to the room next to mine while I get her something to pad her stomach?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grabbed the suitcases full of books, weapons and clothes and rushed up the stairs. Her room was on the opposite end of the house from him, right next to his mother’s rooms.

Why is she staying so far away from us? His wolf whined in his head. What if something happens? How will we protect her?

She already doesn’t trust us. Hopefully the living arrangements will make her less nervous. If she doesn’t like it, she might go stay with Bridget instead. Do you want that?

No. Stupid Bridgett. She brought up the bedwetting incident. Our childhood shame bared in front of our mate! What if she doesn’t like us now?

We were young. I can’t imagine she would hold it against us… although yes, it is very embarrassing.

As he neared the kitchen once more, he overheard Alyssa and his mother talking. About to announce his arrival, his mouth slammed shut as he heard his mate’s question.

“So Lewis’ brother is a villain, right?”

“…” His mother sighed. “How much has he told you?”

“Just that he has a twin, and he’s not with the pack.”

“Well, I guess you haven’t known each other long… you’ll hear it anyways, might as well be from me, since he’s my son.” She sat down at the counter, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

“I had three children, actually. Twins boys and a younger girl. My husband was the Alpha of the Western pack, and although it’s not set in stone, usually one of the children of the Alpha will inherit the position.”

Lewis could hear Alyssa’s pen moving as she frantically took notes. He silently laughed, even as his chest hurt at the sound of his mother’s disappointed tone, leaning against the wall to hear how she would describe their situation.

“Now, I’m not a werewolf, you know. I’m a human who happened to be mates with a werewolf. So maybe I didn’t instill the idea of pack values as strongly as I could have.” She sighed. “Lewis seemed to get it naturally. He got hurt when he was ten… the first time he transformed, just to protect an elderly pack member who was being attacked. He’s got a large scar on his left elbow from a hunter’s arrow. Werewolves heal well… but the scars remain.”

My other son… Benjamin… he wasn’t nearly as concerned about the pack’s well being. Just obsessed with being strong. Being in charge. My daughter Emily seemed to feel very similar.”

“Seems pretty Alpha-like… at least how the books describe them.”

“But that’s the thing. Alphas SHOULD be strong. My mate was very strong, in fact. But their strength exists to protect and feed the pack. Strength and power for its own sake has no purpose… and often leads down a dangerous pack.”

“…”

“My mate died.” His mother whispered, the pain in her voice breaking Lewis’s heart. “Lung cancer. Even werewolves can die from disease. They heal… but not fast enough for more aggressive wounds or diseases. They’re not immortal.”

“I’m sorry.” Alyssa seemed genuinely concerned. “How did you survive losing your mate?”

“It helps that I’m human.” Her voice was still quiet. “The pain is still there…it’s like a piece of your soul missing. But I had family, pack … people who needed me to keep waking up each morning. And I’m glad I have.”

“So what happened next?”

“My mate’s will left the pack to Lewis.” His mother shrugged, turning back to stir the contents of a pot on the stove. “It was an obvious choice to us. He is strong, careful… puts the pack first.”

“But Benjamin didn’t agree?”

“He rebelled. Said Lewis was weak. Tried to fight him, but was pushed back by the loyal members of the pack. In the end he took almost half the pack with him to start a new one… including my daughter who also thought Lewis was too weak to lead.”

“…” Alyssa was silent. Lewis leaned against the wall, desperately trying to sense his mate’s emotions. Was she disappointed in him? Did she think he was a failure.

“He goes by Nightfang now… his group is our pack’s greatest threat.”

“…” Suddenly in the silent kitchen, Alyssa chuckled. “Seriously? Nightfang? Did he think that was a cool name?”

Lewis’s mother laughed too. “I know, right. I mean, it’s a serious situation and all, but seriously… he sounds like a villain in a Saturday morning cartoon.” She looked over, and chuckled again. “Alright, Lewis. Stop hiding around the corner and come join the conversation.”

Shamefully, Lewis ducked his head and entered the kitchen. He noticed Alyssa didn’t seem surprised by his presence.

She probably can sense when we’re nearby. It means our bond is slightly stronger!

It also means she knows we were eavesdropping like a creep!

Well we were… not like it’s much better if she doesn’t know.

“So…” He spoke up, trying to appear less awkward. “Can I help with dinner at all, Mom?”

She smiled, reaching up high to pat his head as well. “I’m pretty much done. How about after we eat you show her around the territory?”

Alyssa seemed a little more relaxed, to Lewis’s relief. “I’d like that.”

WE GET TO SPEND TIME WITH HER! THIS IS GREAT!

Play it cool! She already knows that half the pack left because we’re too weak to convince them we’re a good Alpha. If we look like an idiot too…

OH SHUT UP! His wolf snapped at it. Don’t pretend you’re not super excited. We’re the same person!

…Stupid wolf.

Silly human.

... Lewis was excited. So excited he could hardly breathe. His mate was right here, in front of him. She was smart, beautiful, friendly… at least to everyone else… more than he could have ever dared to dream of.

I just want her to like us… any ideas?

I still vote for bringing her food or showing her our genitals. .

… Never mind… I’ll think of something.

________________________

A few weeks passed.

Alyssa sat on the cool grass, watching Lewis in wolf form teaching some of the younger pack members how to fight.

“Watch out for each other.” His voice resounded her mind. “You can’t be so focused on the enemy that you lose track of what’s behind you.”

Having never spent any time prior to this visit around other werewolves, she was interested to find that although she did understand some of wolf language – a combination of scents, sounds and body language – the majority of the time werewolves simply spoke through mental communication.

Lewis batted one of the young wolves aside, snapping at another’s flank and using his weight to push a third to the ground, baring his teeth. The fallen wolf whimpered slightly, more with frustration than pain.

“Alpha, I thought we had to focus all of our attention on the attack, and not stop until the enemy was dead?” The youngest of the three, a male wolf named Teddy, finally spoke up, his tail between his legs. “How are we supposed to do that AND watch our backs?”

“Who told you that?” Lewis seemed shocked. “You are nothing without your pack! Only by working together and looking out for each other will you be at your strongest.”

“It was Uncle Ben…mmph” Teddy’s voice was muffled as the other two wolves tackled him.

“Sorry Alpha, he’s a little dumb.” Teddy’s sister Lara apologized, grinding her brother’s muzzle into the dirt with a paw. “Of course we aren’t going to follow what the traitor Nightfang taught us.”

“But LARA…”

“SHUT UP and let me get us out of this, idiot!”

Lewis stared at them for a few minutes, and then laughed silently in our heads. “It’s okay. I know he was in charge of teaching fighting for years. It’s a different strategy, but give my idea a shot before you dismiss it, okay?”

“YES ALPHA!” The three younger wolves shouted in unison.

“…” Alyssa studied Lewis with a thoughtful expression. He was kind enough to the pups, even when they challenged him and brought up his brother’s name. He didn’t lash out, just calmly guiding them forward. If she didn’t know better, she would think the mention of his brother didn’t bother him at all.

But she could feel it.

Behind his kind words, there was a deep agony. Fear, hurt, betrayal. He resented that his brother left the pack, that he split the pack with his leaving. He regretted that he had let his brother teach the pups… that he taught the pups to be killers rather than to defend and protect the pack. Feared being compared to his brother at every turn.

But mostly… he blamed himself. Hated that he wasn’t a strong enough Alpha to force the pack to stay together. He wished desperately that he could be a better leader… more like his father.

Alyssa rubbed her chest idly, feeling a pain in her heart that wasn’t physical but still wishing to ease it. She could sense his self-doubt, his feelings of helplessness, but was unsure what to do with the knowledge.

Over the last few weeks, they had spent a lot of time together. She had come to recognize that he was as kind as he first seemed, very different than what her book research had led her to expect. He was strong… she could see that in every move her made, especially in his wolf form… but he didn’t seem to place his importance on that strength.

His mother had described him well. He was strong, careful… and he put his pack first.

The closer they got, the more she learned about him, the more she could feel through their bond. His emotions, his mental state. She couldn’t hear his thoughts, not unless he was mentally communicating in wolf form. The information she was getting, however, was almost more than she could bear.

It made her terrified to guess what he could sense about her.

That’s how bonding goes. He is our soul mate. We can’t hide from him.

“…” Alyssa ignored her wolf, mad that she was telling the truth.

“Are you okay?” Alyssa looked up at Lewis’s mental question, startled to see his wolf’s face right in front of her own. “Did something upset you?”

“… What would you do if something did?”

“Help you. No matter what.” His mental voice was firm… reassuring.

“What if it was you that upset me?” Alyssa was curious how he would answer that.

“… If I did something, please let me know… I don’t want to hurt you, even by accident.” He paused. “If you don’t feel comfortable telling me… then my mom or Bridget would be happy to listen. And of course beat me up for whatever I did…”

SORRY WE UPSET YOU MATE! WOULD YOU LIKE MEAT?! Startled, Alyssa realized she could hear Lewis’s wolf directly. He sounded a lot like Lewis, but slightly more… straightforward.

TELL HIM WE LIKE MEAT! Alyssa’s wolf shouted with frustration. OR SHIFT SO I CAN TELL HIM MYSELF!

“How can I hear your wolf? I thought that could only happen after mating?”

Lewis shook his head, the motion strange appearing when performed by a wolf. “I’m not sure… I’ve never been mated before… but I think as our bond deepens we’ll hear more. I can’t hear your wolf now… if she’s speaking…”

I AM SPEAKING! TELL HIM I WANT THE STEAK HE HAS IN THE FREEZER!

“…But if you were in wolf form I might. Their control is a little stronger in that form. One day we might be able to hear each other’s wolves even when in human form.”

“…”

We like you, Mate! We think you are smart and pretty and smell nice! We spend a lot of time arguing over what would make you like us! Lewis’s wolf chimed in.

“Shush…” Lewis tried to interrupt, but the wolf kept talking.

I wanted to bring you meat and expose our genitals to reassure you of our virility, but he insisted that would make you mad.

His wolf is smart. Alyssa’s wolf approved. That would have made me happy.

“…Your wolf and my wolf are on the same page. I have no desire to see genitals, though.”

“No worries, there’s a firm ‘no flashing’ rule in place. “

Her stomach rumbled. “Wouldn’t say no to a steak though!”

Hooray! We’ll bring you the tastiest of the steaks!

See, he loves us enough to bring us the best steak! We should mate him now!

Lewis ran behind a tree and shifted, quickly changing into loose fitting shorts and t-shirt. Alyssa had learned the hard way that the pack had very little sense of modesty.

After numbing her brain to the sight of naked people who had transformed back from wolf form multiple times, she had come to somewhat accept it as normal.

She was still glad that Lewis tried to not be naked in front of her. Although she was now realizing that this might have more to do with avoiding his wolf’s desire to show off genitals then anything else.

“Let’s go.” He smiled, the expression causing her heart to skip a quick beat, and held out his hand. After a short hesitation, she took it, feeling as always the thrill that came from touching him.

They walked together in silence.

As they neared the house, Lewis spoke up. “You know everyone likes you here.”

Alyssa tensed up. “But…?”

“No buts. They just like you.” He let out a quiet sigh. “You don’t have to try this hard.”

“…”

“You look relaxed when you’re talking with the pack. You’re smiling and joking around… you’ve even got half of them addicted to those werewolf romance novels… I mean your research…” He chuckled, squeezing her hand with his own. “But I can feel it, Lyss. I can feel how stressed out you are… how hard you’re trying to make them like you.”

“I…” Alyssa started to talk but then fell silent.

I told you he knows us.

“I’m not judging.” He smiled bitterly. “I wish I had met you much earlier. I don’t know what your life has been like leading up to now. I just want you to know that people like you for the weird, lovely person you are. You can try to relax a little.”

Alyssa thought his words over. “Growing up… being liked… it was safer. Especially if you were the weird kid who had a wolf voice in her head. I learned early how to read people, and act the way they wanted. I’ve grown out of it some… it does get very tiring. But I don’t know if I could completely stop, even if I wanted to.”

“That’s okay.” He grinned. “Just know that I care about you... honestly maybe more than that, although it’s just been a few weeks. You never have to try to get on my good side.”

“I don’t think we ever tried to do that.”

We tried to scare him off. And instead he treated us better than anyone else.

He grinned. “Good. Then I guess I got to see a closer side to you than most… even if it was not meant as a compliment.”

Alyssa felt scared by this. His care. His acceptance of her. Even worse by the fact she could feel through the bond that it was completely genuine.

“Don’t let it worry you too much. Let’s just take it a day at a time for now.”

She sighed with relief at his words. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He thought it over for a moment. “Wait? What about your job at the bookstore? You’ve been here two weeks without notice? Do you still have a job?”

“You don’t need to worry about it.”

You’ll have to tell him eventually.

“If you say so.” His expression and mental state were a little sad, but she ignored it.

She would take it one step at a time, just like Lewis suggested.

________________________

Lewis was going a little crazy.

It had been a month. He spent every day at his mate’s side. Every day talking with Alyssa, laughing with her, getting to know her more and more. As they grew closer, he couldn’t help but wish for more.

They had just returned from a run through the forest in their wolf forms. He loved spending time with her wolf as well. She was much smaller than him, with silver fur and grey eyes that saw right through him. Her wolf self was much more open and playful, often pulling him to play or run through the forest. His wolf was enamored with her, yelling out offers to feed her or provide her with pups… or both. Her wolf was in hearty agreement, only to be silenced by Alyssa, who still seemed somewhat uncomfortable about the whole situation.

Lewis was happy. He hoped she would continue to stay with the pack… stay with him. He just wasn’t sure how long that would last. Fortunately she seemed completely unconcerned about how much time she took off the bookstore.

He shifted back behind a tree, changing into his clothes stuffed nearby and staring down at the ground until he heard she was done doing the same. Stepping out of his hiding spot he grinned and offered his hand.

“Should we get something to eat?”

Alyssa took his hand without hesitation. “Sure. What should we make?” Lewis felt his heartbeat speed up at her casual use of “we”.

STEAK!

STEAK PLEASE!

Their wolves chimed in, making them both shake their heads.

“How about pasta?” He asked. Feeling the wolves’ disappointment he added “We can have meat in the sauce.

YES!

Our mate is the best!

Lewis couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Her wolf likes me at least.

“ALPHA!” Gary’s panicked voice caused him to turn, seeing the large man running towards them fully naked.

Seeing Alyssa look towards the ground, Lewis couldn’t help but growl with annoyance. “Can’t you put pants on?”

“No time.” He skidded to a halt, trying to catch his breath. “It’s your brother…”

His heart stopped.

Benjamin. Nightfang. His brother. His enemy.

“What has he done?”

Gary’s face was grim. “He’s invaded. The South Segment.”

Lewis pulled off his clothes, shifting to his wolf form.

“Are there any of our pack patrolling in the area?”

“I let Teddy and Lara take that segment… it was supposed to be our safest area…” Gary rubbed his face looking horrified. “I thought it would be okay.”

“Stay here. Protect the pack. I’ll get the young wolves.”

His silent voice projected across the entire territory.

“Everyone. We are under attack. Go to your designated areas. The Nightfang pack has definitely invaded the South Segment, but it could be a distraction. DO NOT LET DOWN YOUR GUARD! Watch each others’ backs. I’m going after Teddy and Lara who were last seen in the attacked area. Listen to the Beta while I’m gone."

He hesitated mentally, continuing to run as fast as possible to the south segment, and then reached out privately to Alyssa.

“Please keep yourself safe. If you want to fight I won’t stop you, stay near Gary. If you want to stay out of the fight, go hide in the house with my mom. The pack is instructed to guard it. “

“I… “ He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

TELL OUR MATE YOU LOVE HER!

He wanted to. He wanted to express the thoughts, the emotions that had slowly sprouted within him in the time they had spent together. To say everything he had wanted to say when he was by her side.

But he couldn’t.

We’re not strong. We can barely protect our pack. She won’t want us. She doesn’t trust us yet.

He reached out for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time to his beloved mate.

“Stay safe.”

With that, he continued towards the south sector.

Calling out for Teddy and Lara as he neared the attacked area, Lewis wasn’t getting any answers. He tried not to think too hard about what that could mean.

They might just be unconscious… they might not be… His wolf trailed off, hesitating.

I don’t know what Ben… what Nightfang is capable of. He might kill them. But if there is a chance they are still alive… we have to try.

He slowed down, his paws silently stepping on the soft earth. He stayed on high alert, listening for any possible signs of the intruders.

Don’t let your guard down. Someone is close. His wolf could feel the intrusion on the Packs’ territory, it bothered him.

There, in the clearing! Lewis spotted two small wolf forms laying still on the ground. Praying they were just knocked out, he crouched down and inched closer.

They were breathing.

He let out a silent sigh of relief. Scouting around, there were at least two from the NightFang pack in the clearing with the pups.

Only two.

Where’s the rest of that bastard’s pack?! Where’s Ben? His wolf snarled within him.

It’s a distraction.He had known there was a possibility. But he couldn’t leave the two young wolves for dead. He couldn’t.

And Nightfang knew that.

Let’s save them quickly and head straight back. Hopefully Gary will keep things together until we return.

I miss our mate. I hope she’s okay.

… Me too.

Lewis attacked from the shadows. Normally he would owe them a noise, some sort of warning of his approach. He should give them the chance to surrender. To run away.

He didn’t warn them. They had invaded his pack’s territory. Kidnapped and attacked their young wolves. They knew the consequences.

One wolf screamed in pain and fear as his hamstring was shredded between Lewis’ teeth. He shifted in his confusion and shock, the bloody mess even worse in human form. Lewis had already turned to the next one.

He snapped at the enemy’s flank, and as the wolf dodged to avoid his teeth, used his much heavier muscle mass to push him to the ground. He grabbed his throat, resting his canines against the carotid pulse. The wolf grew still, not wanting to push him into ending his life.

“SPEAK! What is that traitor’s plan?”

The wolf whined at his mental command, but stayed silent. Lewis began closing his jaw. We don’t have time for this. The pack is in danger. Our mate is in danger.

“He’s attacking from the West!” Sensing death close by, the wolf began to mindspeak. “He wants to wipe out your pack while you’re distracted.”

Lewis opened his jaw slightly, considering his options. If I let him go he could warn the others.

Kill him.

He surrendered.

The pack must be protected.

Let me knock him out.

“Weakling.” A snarl came behind him, and he realized it was the man whose hamstring he had torn out. Swinging a metal bar at his head. At the same time, the wolf he had pinned bucked with teeth bared, trying to throw him off and attack.

Lewis dodged, clamping down his teeth as he moved, tearing the carotid and jugular with the sharp points of his teeth. He let go, tasting blood, knowing that the wolf beneath him was dead.

One left.

Before the attacker could say anything, Lewis jumped, fangs bared, and tore his throat out as well.

We did it.

He nudged Lara, the older of the two wolves, relieved when she woke up right away.

“Grab your brother and go to the main house.” His tone didn’t allow room for argument. She nodded silently, shaking awake her brother, and the two ran into the forest.

Lewis couldn’t help but chastise himself as he watched them move away. I hesitated.

You’re our kind half. I am the viciousness we hold, the killer instinct.

I’m weak.

We have to have both, or we’ll either be a tyrant killer or a ineffective Alpha. Now stop having a personal crisis and go SAVE OUR MATE.

Lewis nodded grimly, padding off into the forest towards where he could sense the pack.

It’s time to end this.

He ran into more enemy wolves as he neared the center of his territory. This time he sighed, giving up control to his wolf. His wolf seemed relieved at taking over, fighting both enemies to severe injury or death before moving forward.

Mate. He picked up the pace.

________________________

Alyssa had never been in a fight before. At least not with other wolves.

Don’t worry, I got this. Her wolf took over and leapt at the nearest attacker. Gary and Bridget were to either side of her, their much larger wolves defending her flank.

“There’s a lot of them, but I think we’ve got control.” Gary communicated calmly, his frantic attacks never slowing.

“They seem disorganized. “ Bridgett’s silent voice conveyed her disapproval. “Did they come here just to die?”

As her wolf continued to fight, leaping nimbly in between the snarling wolves, Alyssa studied her surroundings.

This is too easy. They’re injured… starving… what have they been doing in their territory?

Her wolf had no sympathy. Bad alphas make bad packs.

She looked around in the chaos. Everywhere she looked wolves were snapping at each other. Blood stained the cold ground, trampled into the dirt churning it into mud. Howls and whines of pain filled the air.

“I don’t see him.” She communicated to the other pack members.

“Who”? Gary trampled his enemy into the mud, his jaw locking on the throat of the other wolf. “Lewis?”

“No. Benjamin. I don’t sense an alpha in this group. Shouldn’t he be larger or stronger than the rest? Where is he?”

“Maybe the Southern Sector? An alpha fight?”

“No.” Alyssa’s mind was racing. “He doesn’t seem like the type to respect Lewis enough to fight him head on. 64% of the stories show the villain attempting some sort of sneak attack. The South Sector was a distraction… and so is this. They sent their weaker, injured members to fight us.”

That means….

She took off for the main house.

Alyssa! Bridgett called out. Where are you going?

To where the real fight is.

She crashed into the house, skidding to a halt at the sight of Lewis and his mother.

No… it’s not Lewis.Their faces were very similar, but everything else was wrong: his scent, his expression, his posture.

He smells dangerous… aggressive… Her wolf complained. He’s everything our mate isn’t.

I don’t like him.

Me either… he’s scary.

We should be careful.

She kept a defensive posture, her hackles raised, her teeth bared.

Benjamin looked down at her with a mocking smile. “Ah. The princess is here.”

His mother glared at him, holding a gun in her hand. To Alyssa’s shock there were already two large wolf bodies on the floor, cooling blood spilling from multiple bullet wounds. “Don’t you look at her, Ben! You came here for me.”

“It’s Nightfang now, Mother.” Ben laughed. “And you can’t tell me what to do. Not anymore. You lost that right when you betrayed me to side with my weak brother.”

Alyssa advanced closer.

“Oh don’t give her that crap, Benjamin. You might pretend to be mysterious and evil but you’re just pathetic. You aren’t Nightfang, or Eveningclaw or even Morning-freaking-wood. You are Ben. A bitter little boy who is mad at his mommy and daddy for giving the pack to your brother.” She kept her gaze on his, and his green eyes had trouble continuing to look into her own. “Never understanding why they made the choice, even though it’s obvious to anyone else.”

“Oh really?”

“I’ve only known you for a single minute and I wouldn’t trust you to be in charge of a self-cleaning litter box, much less actual people’s lives. “

“Well, well, Princess. That’s just needlessly cruel. Trying to rile me up? Distract me?” He shook his head sadly. “That only works in stories. It’s true that I’m very disappointed in my parents’ choice. They thought I was too violent to lead. That I didn’t care enough about the pack. But I did. I’m the only one who does.”

“Sure.” She circled around, spotting one of her bags close to the wall.

“Be careful, Alyssa.” Lewis’s Mom called out, still pointing her gun at her own son. “He’s dangerous.”

“You used up all your shots in the initial attack, Mom. Don’t embarrass yourself by pretending it’s still a threat.” Benjamin reached out and took the gun from her. “I forgive you for killing my men. But you should some respect when addressing her.”

“What are you…?” She looked over at Alyssa, who stayed silent.

“You didn’t tell them? ...Interesting.” He rubbed his face, a mocking grin starting to form. “Maybe you don’t even know?”

“Shut up. “ Alyssa leapt forward, reaching for his throat. Throwing himself backwards, Benjamin shifted as he moved. At the change she miscalculated, slamming into the much larger wolf, her teeth closing on only the fur around his neck.

“You want to fight? I’ll fight.” His wolf charged, snapping at her flank while she twisted desperately to avoid him. He was larger, stronger… but she was definitely more agile.

This isn’t a winning strategy. We can’t face him head on. Her wolf was directing the movements, keeping them alive from moment to moment as Benjamin pressed the attack.

I know that… Circle around towards the back of the room. I have an idea.

They growled, running in and taking a small chunk out of his foreleg before darting in the direction Alyssa had spotted earlier. Benjamin howled in pain, slamming her with his weight, throwing her smaller form enough to slam her against the wall. At the impact she shifted, turning into her more vulnerable form.

I don’t like this. We’re easier to kill this way.

“Not excited about being naked either, but it’s necessary.” She muttered, her hands working quickly.

“He should have protected you better than this.” Benjamin laughed silently in her head. “He didn’t even realize what a treasure he had.”

SLAM!

A grey form jumped through the air, landing on Benjamin and knocking him to the ground. As they straightened up Alyssa recognized her mate with a sense of terror and relief. Relief that he was here. Terror that he was now in danger.

The two alpha wolves circled each other.

“You should have just found your own territory.” Lewis silent voice was grim, full of his authority as Alpha. “Even with your treachery, I was willing to let you go.”

“That’s because you’re weak. This is MY territory. MY pack. You are the one who has to die. And as for your lovely mate who you know so little about… how about I take her too?”

He sighed at his brother’s words. “You’re forcing me to kill you.”

“Lewis, push him my way!” Alyssa called out silently through their connection.

“That’ll put you in danger!”

“Trust me!”

Lewis ducked his head, the almost submissive posture throwing his brother into confusion. As Benjamin hesitated, Lewis charged forward, aiming not for his throat or other vulnerable points, but at his feet. Throwing all his weight behind it, Lewis tripped him up, pushing him back- straight towards Alyssa.

“Here you go! Be careful!”

“Thanks!”

“You just put your mate in harm’s way! She’s defenseless!” He snarled, turning his attention to Alyssa’s vulnerable state. “Fool!”

BZZZT

His form seized for a brief moment and collapsed to the ground,

“Nope!” Alyssa grinned and held up her Taser. “He just trusts his mate!”

“…”

“…”

There was a brief stunned silence.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Lewis’ mother leaned against the counter, looking relieved.

“Just one more thing.” Alyssa held up a finger. Reaching down, she grabbed her overly loaded suitcase filled with her research books.

BAM! And raised it over her head, slamming it down on top of Benjamin.

“Oof.” Both Lewis and his mother winced, but made no move to stop her.

“That’s for attacking me. Not to mention what you’ve done to Lewis!” She then reached down and pulled an ampule out of one of the pockets, stabbing Benjamin in the arm with it.

“What is that?”

“Tranquilizer.” She answered, making sure the drug injected okay.

“It’s very effective.” Lewis laughed silently in their heads, and then slowly shifting back to his human form. His green eyes met her own, and neither looked away for a long a moment.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you alright?”

They asked at the same time. Alyssa smelled his blood and panicking, ran over to look at him closely. “Where are you hurt?”

She grabbed his arm, finding a small cut there, and continued to look at his limbs.

Lewis froze. “Umm… Could we do this with clothing on?”

“…” Alyssa stepped back, rubbing her forehead as she realized that they were both naked and she had been feeling him over. “…Sure.”

“…Well” Lewis’s mother broke the silence with an awkward cough. “I’m going to go see to the pack. You two… talk.” She gave them a thumbs up and slipped out.

THIS IS A PERFECT CHANCE TO DISPLAY YOUR GENITALS! WHY DID YOU RUIN IT!Lewis’ wolf spoke up, frustrated.

“That’s not even a wolf mating ritual.” Lewis hissed. “Will you leave it alone?!”

Don’t worry! Her wolf chimed in. We don’t think you’re impotent anymore!

“See…”

So we should just get straight to the mating!

AGREE!

Lewis and Alyssa sighed slightly at their wolves’ excitement, and looked down at Benjamin, still unconscious on the floor.

“What do we do to him?” She asked, feeling tired.

“Do you still have some of those chains?” Taking the object she handed to him, Lewis bound the now human form of his brother, sneaking in a single kick in the process. “We’ll send him to the Council. He’s broken every law that I know of.”

“… You know in all the stories where he’s not killed the villain escapes and causes trouble again.”

Lewis sighed at that. “I know it would be safer to kill him. But… I…” He trailed off, looking conflicted.

“It’s okay.” She patted his arm, avoiding the injury she found before. “If you were able to kill him so easily you wouldn’t be you.”

“I worry sometimes that I’m too weak to be an Alpha.”

“I know. And I’m sure there’s probably some perfect balance of strength and mercy… but you don’t have to have everything figured out right away.”

“…thanks.”

She shrugged. “Besides, isn’t your sister still out there? Maybe the council can use Benjamin to figure out where she is.”

After handing Benjamin off to Gary and Bridgett to guard (And having them both fuss over Alyssa to make sure she was okay) the two went back to their rooms to change. Alyssa stared at the wall of her temporary bedroom, feeling conflicted.

He’s our mate. He’ll understand.

“I know. And that’s what scares me.”

Finishing her brief hesitation, she walked over to Lewis’ room, knocking on the door.

“Come in.”

“We need to talk.”

________________________

Lewis was extremely nervous as he waved his mate to sit down on the bed. He took the chair on the other side of the room.

What if she doesn’t want to stay?

She’s our mate! His wolf answered his nervous thoughts. She won’t abandon us!

“I don’t know what you told him, but your wolf is right.” Alyssa spoke up. “We won’t abandon you. Not over something silly like your evil twin brother trying to invade and kill us all.”

Lewis let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s a relief.” He leaned back in his chair. “So what do you want to talk to me about?”

She stared at the ground a few moments before painfully continuing. “So I told you I grew up in the foster system, right?”

“Right.”

“So the part I didn’t tell you… is that a few years back, around the time I turned 18… a weird guy came and found me.”

Lewis growled. “Did he try to hurt you?”

“No. Quite the opposite. He said he was a friend of my family. He wasn’t one of us… definitely human.” She ran her fingers through her hair, obviously unhappy. “He wouldn’t tell me who they were, or why they abandoned me. He just said they had no choice.”

“That’s crap. I don’t know their situation but their only option was to abandon a baby?” HE shook his head. “Something’s off.”

“I thought so too. I told him to get lost.” She hesitated. “And he gave me a million dollars.”

“What…?

“He said it was a small gift from my parents. I don’t know who my family is, or what they were involved in, but it’s probably big… and definitely not good.”

Lewis processed this for a few moments. “So your job at the bookstore?”

“I actually own it. But I have a manager run it. I stop by occasionally and shelve books while I look for new research.”

“So…” He grinned. “Does this mean you can stay longer and not worry about losing your job?”

“…”

“… Is that what you’re thinking about?” Alyssa demanded, her hands twisting in the fabric of her t-shirt. “You’re not worried about unknown schemes, powerful families… who knows what nonsense could happen! I swear, haven’t you ever read one of these novels?!”

Lewis picked up the book on the table nearby. “I started reading through a few at your suggestion.

“The Seductive Alpha’s bride?” She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“It’s research! I’m trying to learn how to be a better mate!”

He’s hoping to learn how to make himself more attractive! His wolf added.

We already think you’re both attractive!

Great! Let’s mate then!

Agree!

“Not yet!” Alyssa stepped in as their wolves got carried away once more. “Although she’s right… we do think you’re attractive…”

“Really?”

“But how about we go slow… like a date, first?”

“A date!” Lewis jumped up, his mind racing. “Yes! Let me grab my car…”

“We were just attacked… remember?”

He stopped at her gentle reminder. “Oh. Right. How about after we get things sorted out?”

She smiled, the expression causing his heart to race.

“I’d like that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence.

“So how accurate has your research been so far?” He asked after a while, curious.

“The books?” She thought it over. “You know, considering the Alphas and the relationships I’ve read about?” She looked him over again. “I’d say I was a little surprised.”

“In a good way?” His tone was hopeful, he couldn’t help it.

“Yes. As for the future though?” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “The majority of these stories have a happy ending. But we’ll just have to see.”

Lewis touched the spot that had been kissed, smiling. “A happy ending, huh? I’d like that.”

[llamagoddessofficial]

what was it like the first time Mc met Skull in the portal Au?

Is it story snippet time? I think it’s story snippet time.

The vent cover was loose.

You’d noticed, as soon as you’d rounded the corner. It didn’t matter that the facility was dark, quiet, deep in one of its night cycles... in the faint illumination of the safety screens and directional arrows left on, you picked up the silhouette of the cover. You were so familiar with the area of the lab around the room you slept in that you probably would’ve seen it anyway... but what immediately made all your attention snap to it was the fact that the glint of sleek metal in the darkness was, in fact, misaligned.

... Sans wanted everything neat. Sans wanted everything right. Red liked it that way, too, but Sans seemed to have the final say. And it showed- the entire facility was neat, angled, symmetrical and impossibly clean. It was so regimented and unnatural that you felt like an outlier yourself; a strange, curved, imperfect biological creature in a space that seemed to bleed robotic perfection from every corner.

... So... something about this one plating... this one vent cover, at a bad angle, tilted just against the grain...

... You were hyperfocused.

You moved over to it, bare feet cat-silent on the warm white floor, crouching down. You weren’t supposed to be out of your room at night, Sans didn’t like you wandering around when he was unaware, powered down for system maintenance and repairs... your fingers sealed around the loosened ends of the vent cover, and with the gentlest of tugs the whole thing came off, leaving a gaping hole in the wall large enough for you to crawl into. 

...

It was like you had a fog, separating one half of your mind from the other. Every day in this strange lab was confusing- and when you tried to ask yourself normal questions, like “where am I?” or “how did I get here?” or “why do I have no memories before this place?” your brain supplied you with absolutely nothing. And not only that, it couldn’t even supply you with the concern you knew you should be experiencing... the fear, the panic, it wouldn’t come. It was the most paradoxical and horrible sensation... the feeling of knowing something was wrong, of knowing you should be scared, but something in your head just not letting you access it.

... Maybe that was why the sight of the hole in the wall, the gap in the artificially perfect world around you, made your heart skip in excitement instead of fear. Maybe that was why you normally would have stuck to what was safe and not done stupid shit like going into vents...

... But this time, you got on your hands and knees, and crawled right in.

You weren’t crawling for a very long time; after what couldn’t have even been a minute of moving in a straight line through the smooth metallic system, the dark space opened up above you, more than enough for you to stand up to your full height in. Your eyes were wide, childlike in wonder- unlike the rest of the facility, that at least seemed to try and fake an air of safety, this place behind the walls... every surface around you was dirty, stained and rusty, there were tubes and buttons and tangled wires sticking out of the floor and ceiling, the whole place was lit up with an unnerving orange glow that was leaking through slits in the flooring. The air was filled with a nasty tang, metallic and almost blood-like, heavy and claustrophobic...

... It was like you’d crawled into hell. Like you’d gone from the head of the facility to the entrance of the throat. Another world...

...

As your gaze lowered...

... There was something in the room with you.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. Near the other end of the room there was a large, metallic box, most likely containing important wiring of some kind. From where you were standing you could judge that it was about your shoulder height... pretty big. 

... But it wasn’t the box that had your attention. It was what it was blocking from your view. A perfectly circular crimson light was peeking out from behind that box... a turret eye, bright and awake and alive, cutting through the murky coloured darkness. And the more you stared, the more you could make out, the more you could see the partially obscured hunched figure attached to the eye that was trained directly on you. 

...

“H-hello?” You whispered.

...

“sh-ouldn_t.. be.here.”

... The voice was like nothing you’d ever heard. Deep, deathly deep, you could feel it in your chest like standing next to a speaker- vibrating in your stomach, the palms of your hands, even tingling along your scalp. It sounded... automated, jittering and autotuned and with inflections no human would use, but so clearly with thoughts and feelings behind it, the unmissable edge of somebody who’s cautious, afraid... a downright uncanny mix of machine and man.

“... Should you?” Your voice sounded so... weak. So biological. Your heart was pounding.

... The eye noticeably changed; the dot in the centre became a fraction wider. It took an odd shape, too... from your distance it... looked like a heart...?

A soft, low “... no_.”

“... Then that makes two of us. Right?”

...

The owner of the eye stood up. 

He stood slowly, too. And as he did, the box he’d been crouched behind just got smaller, and smaller, and smaller... a beast, made of the facility’s leftovers. Large enough to crush you like a beetle. The dim orange light touched his silhouette to reveal thick tubes, misshapen metal plates, wires hanging off him like cut vines... a gaping cavity in his chest where a half-broken plasma motor was faintly humming and glowing. One of his hands looked vaguely humanoid but the other was just a badly affixed pincer claw... the plate on his face had been haphazardly cut away so his one red eye could see, and a skeletal nose shape had been carved into the centre. Everything about him was asymmetric, uneven, mismatched... 

You opened your mouth-

[Bleep!]

...

It floated through the room. A light noise, like a phone notification. You took note of the fact that you couldn’t hear it echoing through the rest of the facility... something that was only heard in the backrooms, perhaps? It was a very gentle little sound, nothing more than a light jingle...

... Except he flinched like a gunshot had gone off, eye blinking out entirely. Immediately, he turned around- you let out a little “H-hey, wait!” and raised your arm but it didn’t stop him. In a few giant steps he’d completely disappeared around a corner, clanging sounds moving so much deeper into the metalworks in such a short amount of time that you found yourself immediately disoriented. How... you were just standing there, how did someone that huge and heavy move so fast?

...

You wanted to pursue. You wanted to chase him deep into the bowels of the lab, down where you weren’t ever supposed to go, where no light would reach... you wanted to so badly you’d already moved a few steps without realising.

... But at the same time, you felt like you’d done enough for one day. Your nose stung from the strange smells in the air, your eyes were straining in the orange darkness... you wanted to go to sleep, back to your relaxation chamber, to rest for now and figure out what the hell you’d just seen.

What the hell you’d just spoken to.

... You turned, and clambered back through the vent. It took no time at all to re-emerge back in the regular facility... back to the whiteness, the cleanliness, the perfect and fake.

...

You had no idea why he’d reacted the way he had to that sound. What did it mean? You trailed your hand along the wall as you walked, making your way through the halls back to your chamber, the floor smooth and faultless under your bare soles. Was it... some kind of warning? An alert system? Was he running toward something, or away fr-

“subject.” 

- You almost jumped out of your fucking skin.

You were never sure where Sans’ voice was coming from. It always seemed to just spontaneously exist all around you, disembodied and impossible to describe, surrounding you on all sides as if emanating from the air in the building itself. No matter how hard you searched you could never seem to find any speakers on the cold, unfriendly white walls or floor... just further adding to the confusion and dream-like quality of this whole place. You clutched your chest, taking a little breath, trying to disguise the wild flinch that you’d just experienced.

“Y-yeah?” You said, smooth as always, and totally completely not-startled.

Sans always heard you, no matter how quietly you spoke- and judging by passing comments he’d made he always seemed to be able to see you and your expression. God, you hoped he couldn’t read the panic in your face.

“the facility is in night cycle.” Calm, emotionless, slightly autotuned, as per usual... but a little softer than the norm. “why are you out of your relaxation chamber?”

You glanced up at the nearest camera, a small black orb close to the ceiling with a gently blinking blue light.

...

“I-I can’t sleep.” Was all you could think of.

...

“... perhaps it will be easier to sleep... if you are reclined in a position, in which you can actually sleep. you should return to your chamber.”

“... I’m just walking around.” You kept moving, hoping he wouldn’t think about where you’d come from. “I mean... N-not all of us have a ‘go to sleep instantly’ button. I’m clearing my head. I’m fine, I'm on my way back anyway.”

...

“you’re stammering. your heart rate is elevated.”

Shit. Shit. No, it’s-

“... did you experience a nightmare?”

...

“O-oh. Yeah. Uhm...” You rubbed the back of your neck, eyes drifting down to the floor. “You know about those?”

“i have access to the combined entirety of human knowledge. yes, i am aware of nightmares.”

“W-well... yeah. Yes. I... had one. I’m walking it off.”

... A pause, on his part. 

...

“... i can turn the lights back on. if... you’d like to walk around.”

“No thank you. It’ll just make me feel more awake.”

“i see. ... well. i need to complete some more system reboots. i will be partially offline again. if... you need me, just call.”

“Okay. Sure. I will.”

[soundsfaebutokay]

So I've recc'd this video before, but it deserves its own post because it's one of my favorite things on youtube. It's a Tedx Talk by comics writer, editor, and journalist Jay Edidin, and I really think that it will connect with a lot of people here.

If you live and breathe stories of all kinds, you might like this.

If you care about media representation, you might like this.

If you're neurodivergent, you might like this.

If you're interested in a gender transition story that veers from the norm, you might like this.

If you love the original Leverage and especially Parker, and understand how important it is that a character like her exists, you will definitely like this.

Transcript below the cut:

You Are Here: The Cartography of Stories

by Jay Edidin

I am autistic. And what this means in practice is that there are some things that are easier for me than they are for most people, and a great many things that are somewhat harder, and these affect my life in more or less overt ways. As it goes, I'm pretty lucky. I've been able to build a career around special interests and granular obsession. My main gig at the moment is explaining superhero comics continuity and publishing history for which work I am somehow paid in actual legal currency—which is both a triumph of the frivolous in an era of the frantically pragmatic, and a job that's really singularly suited to my strengths and also to my idiosyncrasies.

I like comics. I like stories in general, because they make sense to me in ways that the rest of the world and my own mind often don't. Self-knowledge is not an intuitive thing for me. What sense of self I have, I've built gradually and laboriously and mostly through long-term pattern recognition. For decades, I didn't even really have a self-image. If you'd asked me to draw myself, I would eventually have given you a pair of glasses and maybe a very messy scribble of hair, and that would've been about it. But what I do know—backwards, forwards, and in pretty much every way that matters—are stories. I know how they work. I understand their language, their complex inner clockwork, and I can use those things to extrapolate a sort of external compass that picks up where my internal one falls short. Stories—their forms, their structure, the sense of order inherent to them—give me the means to navigate what otherwise, at least for me, would be an impassable storm of unparsable data. Or stories are a periscope, angled to access the parts of myself I can't intuitively see. Or stories are a series of mirrors by which I can assemble a composite sketch of an identity I rarely recognize whole...which is how I worked out that I was transgender, in my early thirties, by way of a television show.

This is my story. And it's about narrative cartography, and representation, and why those things matter. It's about autism and it's about gender and it's about how they intersect. And it's about the kinds of people we know how to see, and the kinds of people we don't. It's not the kind of story that gets told a lot, you might hear a lot, because the narrative around gender transition and dysphoria in our culture is really, really prescriptive. It's basically the story of the kid who has known for their whole life that they're this and not that, and that story demands the kind of intuitive self-knowledge that I can't really do, and a kind of relationship to gender that I don't really have—which is part of why it took me so long to figure my own stuff out.

So, to what extent this story, my story has a beginning, it begins early in 2014 when I published an essay titled, "I See Your Value Now: Asperger's and the Art of Allegory." And it explored, among other things, the ways that I use narrative and narrative structures to navigate real life. And it got picked up in a number of fairly prominent places that got linked, and I casually followed the ensuing discussion. And I was surprised to discover that readers were fairly consistently assuming I was a man. Now, that in itself wasn't a new experience for me, even though at the time I was writing under a very unambiguously female byline. It had happened in the letter columns of comics I'd edited. It had happened when a parody Twitter account I'd created went viral. When I was on staff at Wired, I budgeted for fancy scotch by putting a dollar in a box every time a reader responded in a way that made it clear they were assuming I was a man in response to an article where my name was clearly visible, and then I had to stop doing that because it happened so often I couldn't afford to keep it up. But in all of those cases, the context, you know, the reasons were pretty obvious. The fields I'd worked in, the beats I covered, they were places where women had had to fight disproportionally hard for visibility and recognition. We live in a culture that assumes a male default, so given a neutral voice and a character limit, most readers will assume a male author.

But this was different, because this wasn't just a book I'd edited, it wasn't a story I'd reported—it was me, it was my story. And it made me uncomfortable, got under my skin in ways that the other stuff really hadn't. And so I did what I do when that happens, and I tried to sort of reverse-engineer it to look at the conclusions and peel them back to see the narratives behind them and the stories that made them tick. And I started this, I started this by going back to the text of the essay, and you know, examining it every way I could think of: looking at craft, looking at content. And in doing so, I was surprised to realize that while I had written about a number of characters with whom I identified closely, that every single one of those characters I'd written about was male. And that surprised me even more than the responses to the essay had, because I've spent my career writing and talking and thinking about gender and representation in popular media. In 2014, I'd been the feminist gadfly of an editorial department and multiple mastheads. I'd been a founding board member of an organization that existed to advocate for more and better representation of women and girls in comics characters and creators. And most of my favorite characters, the ones I'd actively seek out and follow, were women. Just not, apparently, the characters I saw myself in.

Now I still didn't realize it was me at this point. Remember: self-knowledge, not very intuitive for me. And while I had spent a lot of time thinking about gender, I'd never really bothered to think much about my own. I knew academically that the way other people read and interpreted my gender affected and had influenced a lifetime of social and professional interactions, and that those in turn had informed the person I'd grown up into during that time. But I really believed, like I just sort of had in the back of my head, that if you peeled away all of that social conditioning, you'd basically end up with what I got when I tried to draw a self-portrait. So: a pair of glasses, messy scribble of hair, and in this case, maybe also some very strong opinions about the X-Men. I mean, I knew something was off. I'd always known something was off, that my relationship to gender was messy and uncomfortable, but gender itself struck me as messy and uncomfortable, and it had never been a large enough part of how I defined myself to really feel like something that merited further study, and I had deadlines, and...so it was always on the back burner. So, I looked, I looked at what I had, at this improbable group of exclusively male characters. And I looked and I figured that if this wasn't me, then it had to be a result of the stories I had access to, to choose from, and the entertainment landscape I was looking at. And the funny thing is, I wasn't wrong, exactly. I just wasn't right either.

See, the characters I'd written about had one other significant trait in common aside from their gender, which is that they were all more or less explicitly, more or less heavily coded as autistic. And I thought, "Ah, yes. This explains it. This is under representation in fiction echoing under representation in life and vice versa." Because the characteristics that I'd honed in on, that I particularly identified with in these guys, were things like emotional unavailability and social awkwardness and granular obsession, and all of those are characteristics that are seen as unsympathetic and therefore unmarketable in female characters. Which is also why readers were assuming that I was a man.

Because, you see, here's the thing. I'm not the only one who uses stories to navigate the world. I'm just a little more deliberate about it. For humans, stories formed the bridge between data and understanding. They're where we look when we need to contextualize something new, or to recognize something we're pretty sure we've seen before. They're how we identify ourselves; they're how we locate ourselves and each other in the larger world. There were no fictional women like me; there weren't representations of women like me in media, and so readers were primed not to recognize women like me in real life either.

Now by this point, I had started writing a follow-up essay, and this one was also about autism and narratives, but specifically focused on how they intersected with gender and representation in media. And in context of this essay, I went about looking to see if I could find even one female character who had that cluster of traits I'd been looking for, and I was asking around in autistic communities. And I got a few more or less useful one-off suggestions, and some really, really splendid arguments about semantics and standards, and um...then I got one answer over and over and over in community after community after community. "Leverage," people told me. "You have to watch Leverage."

So I watched Leverage. Leverage is five seasons of ensemble heist drama. It's about a team of very skilled con artists who take down corrupt and powerful plutocrats and the like, and it's a lot of fun, and it's very clever, and it's clever enough that it doesn't really matter that it's pretty formulaic, and I enjoyed it a lot. But what's most important, what Leverage has is Parker.

Parker is a master thief, and she is the best of the best of the best in ways that all of Leverage's characters are the best of the best. And superficially, she looks like the kind of woman you see on TV. So she's young, and she's slender, and she's blonde, and she's attractive but in a sort of approachable way. And all of that familiarity is brilliant misdirection, because the thing is, there are no other women like Parker on TV. Because Parker—even if it's never explicitly stated in the show—Parker is coded incredibly clearly as autistic. Parker is socially awkward. Her speech tends to have limited inflection; what inflection it does have is repetitive and sounds rehearsed a lot of the time. She's not emotionally literate; she struggles with it, and the social skills she develops over the series, she learns by rote, like they're just another grift. When she's not scaling skyscrapers or cartwheeling through laser grids, she wears her body like an ill-fitting suit. Parker moves like me. And Parker, Parker was a revelation—she was a revolution unto herself. In a media landscape where unempathetic women usually exist to either be punished or "loved whole," Parker got to play the crabby savant. And she wasn't emotionally intuitive but it was never ever played as the product of abuse or trauma even though she had survived both of those—it was just part of her, as much as were her hands or her eyes. And she had a genuine character arc. My god, she had a genuine romantic arc, even. And none of that required her to turn into anything other than what she was. And in Parker I recognized a thousand tics and details of my life and my personality...but. I didn't recognize myself.

Why? What difference was there in Parker, you know, between Parker and the other characters I'd written about? Those characters, they'd spanned ethnicities and backgrounds and different media and appearances and the only other characteristic they all had in common was their gender. So that was where I started to look next, and I thought, "Well, okay, maybe, maybe it's masculinity. Maybe if Parker were less feminine, she'd click with me the way those other characters had." So then I tried to imagine a Parker with short hair, who's explicitly butch, and...nothing. So okay, I extended it in what seems like the only logical direction to extend it. I said, "Well, if it's not masculinity, what if it's actual maleness? What if Parker were a man?" Ah. Yeah.

In the end, everything changed, and nothing changed, which is often the way that it goes for me. Add a landmark, no matter how slight, and the map is irrevocably altered. Add a landmark, and paths that were invisible before open wide. Add a landmark, and you may not have moved, but suddenly you know where you are and where you can go.

I wasn't going to tell this story when I started planning this talk. I was gonna tell a similar story, it was about stories, like this is, about narratives and the ways that they influence our culture and vice versa. And it centered around a group of women at NASA who had basically rewritten the narrative around space exploration, and it was a lot more fun, and I still think it was more interesting. But it's also a story you can probably work out for yourselves. In fact it's a story some of you probably have, if you follow that kind of thing, which you probably do given that you're here. And this is a story, my story is not a story that I like to tell. It's not a fun story to talk about because it's very personal and I am a very private person. And it's not universal. And it's not always relatable, and it's definitely not aspirational. And it's not the kind of story that you tend to encounter unless you're already part of it...which is why I'm telling it now. Because the thing is, I'm not the only person who uses stories to parse the world and navigate it. I'm just a little more deliberate. Because I'm tired of having to rely on composite sketches.

Open your maps. Add a landmark. Reroute accordingly.

[alloftheblackwidowfeelings]

Kid Natasha stalked away looking upset when Melina was comforting Yelena. What did you make of it? Was she shrinking away from Melina's gentleness? From the always present knowledge it was part of an act, even if it felt so real? Or was she reacting to Yelena's vulnerability, so easily on display, so unacceptable in the Red Room? Was there some resentment that she wasn't treated so kindly at the same age?

I feel like I keep saying this about this movie, but this is another one of those situations that I love because every read is awful but also every read informs Natasha's adulthood differently.

I'm gonna go into detail with each of these, and a few more besides, because it's so bad and that makes it so good.

The one thing I think we 100% get from it is how each of them has adjusted to living as a family: Melina knows how to play her part well (with an asterisk). Yelena accepts this as the norm. And Natasha is in that awful in-between place, where she knows she's living in a lie but everything around her insists it's true and even if she has three years of proof of consistency, she doesn't trust it- which, later that day, she's shown to be right not to trust.

Is Melina a good mom? She definitely plays the part of a good mom. She definitely knows how to put on the performance of being a good mom. I don't know if that's the same thing, and more importantly, don't know if Nat or Yelena would think it is; pretty much everyone i know who has significant trauma struggles to reconcile the facade presented to the world against what really went down, and that has to be even harder when the facade was presented even to them. Alexei and Melina both insist they played their roles to perfection, but they were roles. Part of that seeps in. At the end of the day, Natasha was willing to pick up a gun to protect Yelena, while Melina and Alexei were both just fine putting Nat and Yelena in a plane to be shot at.

How did Melina feel about all of it? We know she couldn't have kids of her own (she's been cycled through 4x); we know she doesn't want to go but not only does so anyway but also tells Yelena they're going "home" (echoed, obviously, later with the pigs- "go home where it's safe" even though the home she took them back to was anything but). Was being a parent an act for Melina the way it was for Alexei? Was she comforting Yelena because she was supposed to? Or was she offering what she'd never gotten but wished she had? Natasha said that what Melina had given them was what got them through the Red Room, but how much was intentional parenting and how much was performing and how much was playing house in between experiments in the SHIELD labs? Melina says she didn't raise them to be weak; how much was involved in that?

(The girls do backbends for fun in the backyard; we know gymnastics and ballet are part of Red Room training for Widows. How much of Melina's parenting was preparing them for the world and how much was preparing them for the Red Room? Was it to help them or because she had to?)

After at least two years in the Red Room (because we know Nat was younger than six when she started and this mission has been three years), it's pretty amazing she's able to respond to gentleness as well as she does. How could it not seem like a trap? Yelena isn't a spy; she's living the life the family set up. But Natasha is old enough to see the cracks and know she has to pretend not to.

And seeing Yelena's vulnerability, as you said, must have been terrifying, because vulnerability came with consequences. We see in Cuba that Nat wants to protect Yelena; it must seem like Yelena, crying just from falling down, is painting a giant glowing neon target on her own back. Or is this the RIGHT way to behave? If being better at undercover means showing weakness, what is a baby Widow supposed to do? And how does this reflect in how Natasha as an adult responds to vulnerability, when she needs to offer it and when she needs to (but often can't) accept it?

There's also the theory that she felt responsible for hurting Yelena- did she not want to get in trouble? Did she not want to deal with her guilt for harming her? Did she just not want to see Yelena hurt? Or was she remembering a time when hurt children did not get kisses and firefly lectures, when girls face off in a ring and snap each other's necks?

I feel like all of these are very real possibilities and all of them are terrible but fascinating to explore, and the only thing they have in common is that Natasha, especially as a kid, has absolutely no sense of what is a logical consequence of any given act. The same things that were unacceptable in one context were encouraged in another. The Red Room clearly got under her skin but then she had to spend three years pretending it didn't, and then get right back into it. I mean, shit. It was, what, twelve hours between being encouraged to call their "mom" about Yelena's scraped knee, and Alexei telling her to not try to protect her sister from being kidnapped to the Red Room, which Nat knows for a fact is an abusive murder factory because she's lived there and doesn't want to go back?

Yeah, there's no read here that doesn't hurt.

And I can absolutely understand people who see this as the text not committing to a single read, but to me, it's the text allowing for all the reads at once. This movie had to straddle the line of being a PG-13 movie about severe child abuse, and it leans heavily on giving us just enough to make any read we could figure out feel horrifying.

I think I might feel differently if Nat had more of a future in the MCU, which- as far as we know at this point and hopefully subject to change- she does not. For me it's a kaleidoscope of pain, and every possible twist reveals new ways for us to interpret Natasha. And if we're not going to get new things to interpret, I like that we have this many lenses to use on what we've already got.

[bombyxluna]

Omega Mammon X GN!Human MC 

This is more of an intro to the series, which is why is a lil bit longer and more explanatory.

We’re here to break sub gender norms! 

I don’t know how many parts this will have but I want it to be angsty.

No NSFW yet :P

CW: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Talks of heats/ruts/sub genders

The Devildom is, for a lack of a more fitting word, strange. Though, you suppose, being surrounded by demons should be. 

There’s too much you don’t understand still. Three months have passed since you arrived - or were kidnapped? the jury is still out on this one - and it feels like an eternity of time and too little all the same. 

Demons, as it turns out, have very different customs and rituals from humans. So do angels. You are in the least thankful for the classes, but every other student in them seems well versed in the basics, while you float about unsure of what’s happening. Hell, even Luke knows more than you, and he hates demons. Not to mention he’s a child. Double low blow. 

The classes would be going a little bit better if you only had time to actually study for them. Though you do suspect that Diavolo doesn’t actually give a shit about grades and this entire school is a mockery to appease his peaceful plans, you're still stuck in what’s basically hell and having to go to what’s basically hell’s undergrad school. Great. 

The least you can do is prod around for some demon knowledge. You know, just in case. Because things are getting weirder by the day, and sometimes it feels like it’s all an ongoing inside joke you’re not really a part of.

Also, because of them. 

Living with demons wasn’t exactly unexpected, but living with the Seven Rulers of Hell - well, six of them, was. 

Despite initial impressions, you’re quickly figuring out there’s more to each of them than the public eye could see. Something lurking below their perfectly crafted personas, that is reserved only for the ones in close proximity to them. Only for family.

You’re not family, but you’re definitely in close proximity. 

It’s easy to tell how much they hide behind masks. Lucifer, as far as everyone else knows, it’s the always serious and stern big brother that will never crack a joke or play around. The entire foundation of that statement could be torn down with one single picture you had, of him playing with Cerberus. 

Leviathan, despite actively trying to kill you over a book series since - no, you’re not over it - is more than the shut-off otaku who is otherwise known as the Admiral of the Devildom’s marine. He is also clumsy and shy, and he goes on tangents about what he likes, and he is friendly. 

Satan, known as the hot-headed brother who has a tendency to overwork himself into humor changes and explosive arguments, is a reserved person, a cat lover, an erotica reader, and an absolute dork. 

Beelzebub, though he whines about food a lot, is far more than just the hungry brother who also happens to be a jock. He’s a carebear, a very attentive listener, has great movie recommendations, and an amazing cook. 

Asmodeus, who may look lust-driven and shallow to the onlooker, but is caring, a hopeless romantic, a good friend and brother, and even a little insecure. 

And then there’s Mammon.

At first, you didn’t know what to think of him. He acted high and mighty, too strung up in his high horse to look at a human such as yourself. When Lucifer put him in what was basically the task to babysit you, it’s safe to say you were annoyed. 

But then, you started to pick up on things. Small things. Unnoticeable to those who aren’t looking, but that become increasingly clearer once you realize them. 

He’s clingy. With his brothers, with you, even with his credit card. Though he never lets himself linger, when he hugs you, it’s tight and crushing, like he needs to be as close to you as possible. When your arms brush together as you walk about, he blushes. 

His brothers tease him. A lot. To the point, it’s painful to even to you sometimes. He laughs through it all, but you can see the drooping at the corners of his mouth, and how the giggles don’t reach his eyes.

And he’s scared. At least, that’s what it seems like to you. He puts up a front of being this big, angry, scary, and powerful demon such as his brothers, and though you certainly don’t doubt the powerful part, the angry and scary seem faulty. 

It’s intriguing. One day he’ll be all over you and the next he’ll act like he barely knows you, avoiding your eyes and only answering in curt answers. Sometimes his PDA is off the charts - he’ll throw arms around you, stick close, pull you closer when you’re walking together - and others he acts as the smallest of touches burns him like it pains him to be so much as near you. 

And there is that smell. It lingers on him but not on his brothers, like a perfume stronger than anything else. It doesn’t make any sense, though, because you’re pretty sure it’s not perfume. You’ve seen him spray himself before leaving in the mornings and it’s not the same smell. It’s something else, a light waft that emanates from him in waves, but no one else seems to pick up on. 

He’s a puzzle that refuses to fall in place, and all you want to do is figure him out. 

Solomon sits down in front of you with a loud gruff, dropping a small pile of stacked books on top of the wooden table in the library. The librarian shushes him when the sound echoes through the empty halls. Asmodeus hot on his trail, carrying nothing but a bag. He sits down as well, eyes all but sparkling.

“MC!” He sings. The librarian shushes him. 

“Hi, Asmo,” you make space on the table, putting your bag on the chair next to you.

“Ready to cram years of demon biology in one afternoon?” Solomon asks. He smiles wickedly as if he thinks it’s actually possible to do so, and you feel a little bit like a prey caged in by a much, much more astute predator.

You asked for help with the subjects, and maybe you’re already regretting it a little. “Sure,” you answer, trying to sound determined. 

He smiles. “What are you seeing in your class?” 

Solomon picked different classes for the year, and while you were fine with not doing whatever the hell goes on in advanced alchemy, it’s a little bit of a bummer to not share even one class with the only other human around. 

“I’m not… really sure,” you slouch on the seat, ready to give up. Why can’t the world be like the movies and you can spend an entire year just looking out the windows and being pretty? “Subgroups? Or sub genders?” 

“Oh,” he says softly, flipping through one of the heavier looking books. 

Next to him, Asmodeus is pulling out a notebook filled with post-its and notes made in glitter pens. You suspect he didn’t come to lecture you, and that suspicion is confirmed when the notebook is discarded as soon as it showed up, apparently being pulled out only because his bag was on the smaller side and his pink switch-like video game was at the bottom of it. He sighs dramatically, lowering the music coming from it, and laying his chin on Solomon’s shoulder.

Yeah, definitely not here for you. 

Solomon slides the open book towards you, marked on a page titled Subgenders then starts flipping through the next. 

Asmodeus watches as you read over the basic introduction. 

“It’s not hard,” he says, voice bubbly even though the words game over can be read on his screen, “It’s a little tricky to separate, but you get the hand really quickly.”

-

It’s not actually all that hard to figure things out. Solomon, despite the borderline chaotic ways he chooses to explain things, is a fairly good teacher. You manage to grasp the three sub genders and the differences between them in no more than a couple hours - a record if you’re being honest. 

And Solomon had been right. It’s not hard to separate them. Alphas are, generally speaking, the “dominant” gender. They’re easier to anger and natural born fighters. They experience ruts, can mate, and have knots. Most of the royal court are alphas.

Omegas are the “lower” gender - though according to Solomon, the idea that one is lower to the other is being more and more fought againts and discussed in the realms - they’re conflict solvers and are seem as sweeter and more fragile. They experince heats and self lubricate. Most of the common demons are omegas.

Betas are a middle ground. They don’t have scents as strong as alphas or omegas, and aren’t easily affected by ruts or heats. They can still mate, however, and are often seem as level-headed and good right hands for alpha leaders. They’re rare. Barbatos is one of them.

And then there’s the Apex, the “alpha of alphas” as Asmodeus described them. An alpha so powerful he stands above all others, in the top of the “food chain.” That’s the category that fits Diavolo.

“So… what are you then, Asmo?” You ask, folding your arms above the book Solomon had highlighted to you.

Asmodeus perks up, bright as ever. “I’m an alpha, of course! Can’t you tell?” He gestures to himself, manicured nails gleaming under the bad lighting. 

“What about you?” You turn to Solomon. He hadn’t mentioned anything about humans having sub genders, but you kinda wish that was possible, although you couldn’t tell why.

Asmodeus pulls Solomon closer by the arm and beams. “He’s my omega!”

Solomon shrugs him off with a low chuckle. “Don’t make me slap you.”

“Kinky,” Asmodeus points a finger to him, smiling wide. He pulls Solomon again, by the shoulders, and lowers his turtleneck, revealing a bite. “I didn’t lie, though.” 

Solomon pushes him off with a scowl, covering the mark with his hand. “Yeah, yeah.” He waves Asmodeus off, adjusting the clothing.

You chuckle at them but say nothing. It’s clear Solomon doesn’t want you to.

Asmodeus pays his scowl no mind, resting his head on Solomon’s neck. Solomon sighs. “I’m not anything. Humans don’t have sub genders. We didn’t evolve to them, so we end up in somewhat of a grayscale. The closest thing to us would be betas.”

“Then we… claiming and that stuff… we can’t do it?” Your eyes trail to Solomon’s neck, but the bite is covered. 

“Not really,” he sighs, “this was an exception.”

“And why’s that?” Asmodeus hums, leaning over Solomon. Their faces are almost touching. 

Solomon sighs again, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Because I’m a demon’s whore.”

Asmodeus smiles, so much that little dimples show up at the corners of his lips, and he claps. “I love you so much.” 

You roll your eyes, making a vomiting sound when they kiss. Lowering your gaze, you read over the title of one of the chapters. 

“Hey,” you look up again, catching their attention, “what about your brothers? Mammon has a different scent, is he an omega?”

Asmodeus splutters, looking exaggeratedly shocked. He chuckles, strained. “Of course not!” He waves hands in front of himself, almost hitting Solomon in the face, “We’re all alphas.”

“Oh,” you say. It doesn’t make sense. None of the others have a scent like Mammon’s. It’s a little sweet, but seems clouded, slightly sour in the corners. 

“I don’t get it,” Asmodeus muses, tapping a finger to his chin, “humans don’t really feel our scent, how can he be different?”

His gaze is closed off on you, analyzing a little too much. It makes you feel like an ant under a magnifying glass, “I uh… he just does.” 

Solomon stares at you but doesn’t comment on it, even if it looks like he wants to. 

Asmodeus hums in thought, gaze still sharp on your every movement. Then, he smiles, almost artificial in its wake, “Well, whatever!” He slaps a hand to the table. At this point, the librarian gave up on shushing you.

Solomon is still staring at you. You move a little. Being watched like this makes you feel kind of squeamish.

Asmodeus is staring at Solomon, and then at you, resting his head on a palm. He hums again, stretching his arms over his head, and then he’s up, pulling Solomon with him. “We should get going!I wonder who’s on dinner duty.”

You blink. Dinner was still far away. Your study session just got cut short, and while you have no idea why, it feels like it’s your fault.

As you close the book and gather your things alongside them, the word seems to call you again. “Being an omega sounds painful, though,” you close the book, “heats and all.” 

Solomon scoffs. He closes his notebook, sliding his bag over a shoulder. “That makes it more fun.”

Asmodeus tsks, waving Solomon off, “Don’t listen to him he doesn’t have a soul.” 

Solomon neither confirms nor denies this statement, instead only giving you an amused chuckle and a tilt of the head. 

The feeling that you did something wrong, crossed a barrier you weren’t supposed to, clings to you. But still, it makes no sense. 

There’s something different about Mammon. You have to figure out why. 

-

The first thing you notice is that you’re missing a pillow. You’re back from a week filled with classes, ready to drop in bed and sleep the entire weekend when you realize something seems off. You look everywhere, but the pillow is nowhere to be found. 

Then, a couple of days later, the thin blanket you keep for movie nights and long study sessions is gone. 

It progresses like that. The throw you use to warm your feet. Your favorite stuffed animal. A fluffy winter jacket. 

When you ask, fed up with this little prank, none of the brothers seem to know where your things went. 

Your pact with Mammon is still somewhat fresh, but you find yourself going to him, if not for a solution, maybe to complain. 

The door is open when you arrive, pushing it inside without ceremony. 

“Mammon, you’re not going to believe-” 

The words die on your throat. There, spread on top of his bed, twisted and fluffed together into a carefully crafted bundle - no, your mind provides, a nest. This is a nest - are all your missing items, and, sitting on top of them with a flushed face and big eyes, is Mammon. 

Oh. 

Turns out you were right. 

“MC, I, I…” Mammon fumbles upwards, all but stumbling in the mess of blankets and pillows he has apparently snatched not only from you but from his brothers as well. There are even some pillows you don’t recognize, cow patterns all over them. 

“Mammon…” it’s all you can say. You have never dealt with this before, but the answer to your question was clear as day, right in front of you. 

Omegas nest when stressed or needy. Came Solomon’s voice, a memory from the lecture just a week before. 

“You’re an omega.” You say, in a surprised whisper, cogs turning on your mind and finally fitting with each other. 

Mammon’s face falls and his breath hitches. “How do you know about that?”

“In class… we went over the basic biology of demons and…”

He gulps audibly, eyes darting to the floor. “Then you know.”

You can almost feel the question marks forming around your head. “Know what?”

“How disgusting this is,” he gestures to the nest. His face is still reddened, voice bordering on wet, “I took your things without telling and I… I used them, my scent is all over them and now… I’m sorry, MC.”

“Mammon…” you reach towards him, but he steps back.

“You probably want them back, right?” He chuckles dryly with no real humor. “It’s okay, I get it. People don’t like when omegas get all needy, I know that.” He scratches at the back of his neck, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes tugging at his lips. “You can take them, I’ll just…” he points to the door, “yeah.”

And then he’s gone, leaving behind the same smell you came to associate with him, only much sour in its wake. Your pact mark burns, glowing a faint yellow tone. You stand next to his bed, confused and feeling like you managed to fuck up even more.

Masterlist

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. tbh i think the pointed ears on the nymphs is kinda cute, the issue is that rachel and her team cannot keep most of their designs consistent and most are so lazy (ie daphne is just persephone with blue splotches, leto is just hera with black eyes, echo is just female hades, etc) that the features arent really a sign of thought out character design, but rather laziness that even they cant keep straight, as well as showing how lazy it is when only single features can tell anyone apart.

2. if anyone wants to see good versions of taking a webtoon and reworking it for print, go look at hooky, punderworld, and even let's play to see how it's actually done. the LO version is so rushed and lazy it's honestly kind of insulting to how well the other examples did their print versions.

3. It’s a fairly profound realization when you can sit back and recognize that Persephone has almost zero personality traits that aren’t completely wrapped around Hades. When taking a moment to think about what other meaningful relationships Persephone has outside of her love interest, there’s maybe…two (Hecate and Eros…possibly Hera)? I just need to point out that this is highly unusual for any sort of character, especially within a serialized work of art, to possess nearly no identifiable attributes aside from “what will their crush think of them if they do [blank]?” Persephone retains the same lukewarm qualities that early-era Disney princesses hold: interchangeable, formulaic, and malleable enough that viewers can easily insert themselves within the character’s respective roles. Some other anon had mentioned this before, but you could just as easily change Persephone’s name to “Y/N” and practically nothing would change within the story context itself.

4. heres what i dont get. its pretty obvious the first lo book at least is riding off repurposing longer panels as page backgrounds, which i do think is neat, the problem is even by ep 26 (which is where the first book ends) rs stops doing panels like this, and if she ever uses them very rare and still lacking interest. by the time the print version line up with the actual comic, it'll be nothing but a bunch of squished in. static panels with nothing to try and punch it up in the background.

5. itss really weird hera pointed out persephone is young and impressionable and would never argue with hades because of her naive nature and how her youth makes her easy to be pushed around and yet ... hades does exactly that to her and its framed as romantic?? like rachel you know when you say hades shouldn't do that that you actually shouldn't have him do that, right?? like she always setts something up to be disproven (like the age gap or smth) only to play it straight, like???

6. what i dont get of the print LO books is that the logo implies it's a whimsical fantasy, which LO is not, and even the first volume's cover implies its a contrast between the ancient world and the modern when thats not what LO is either. It's aN obvious example of false advertising and promising a viewer something they wont be getting. The second volume cover is horribly designed and lazy, but it's a bit more accurate in telling the viewer LO is just a 50 shades rip off at least.

7. What bugs me the most about LO is the over the top naive personality that RS puts on Persephone; for a goddess who lives with her mother in the farms I guess she could have a more assertive personality giving the context of dealing with the constant feeling of getting married unbeknownst to her or her mother, @a-gnosis comic portraits a more competent and unyielding Persephone, even when it needs to confront Hades, she doesn't fall in love in the way like LO Persephone does, that's a good story.

8. I had to stop reading the most recent fastpass because I couldn’t stop laughing at how some of the hands were drawn. Like, there are panels of Apollo and Zeus where their hands are so out of proportion that they are comically huge in comparison to their tiny heads.

9. I looked at the lo fast pass tag and found an account blaming us antis for effing up the LO tag… Like can you guys take it up to ones who made this app??.. It’s not our fault that tag system is messed up.

10. Is it just me or the humour in lo got super tiring an completely out of place? We are getting same old jokes all the time with "people" being loud and disrespectful to social norms (like Hermes walking in the court as it's a tv show) and every time it's placed during serious events, like what for? Why destroying the mood? Also it got super predictable - who would have know P would ask H to represent her - such complicated plot much suspence. It got super tiring to read now

[veliseraptor]

So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him. 

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers. 

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (1) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!!  Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Introducing the reader’s backstory, exploring her life as a wife and then as a single woman who is slowly getting to know herself as an individual person.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are mild curse words, a bit of a sad vibe regarding falling out of love and getting a divorce, description of several bad dates and good ones that end badly, mention of getting drunk, mention of sex toys, mention of one night stand.

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines, and in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

I forgot to mention, bc I’m dumb and bc we’re becoming one body with two souls, but this chapter (as most of the decent, edited things I post) was beta read by the magical @joheunsaram​ (she’s recently lost her previous blog and she’s rebuilding it, please go say something nice and YOU SHOULD FOLLOW HER SHE’S A QUEEN ,,,,, my queen 🥺✨)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 

When you fall in love with someone, the feeling is like entering a chocolaterie. The scent engulfs you, full and rich and sultry, igniting your senses, the heat making your skin glisten in a light sheen of perspiration, making you exceedingly vulnerable to pointless stuff, like the way your lover exhales. Or their hands skimming your arms.

At least, that was what your best friend had told you.

You had none of that. To you love was a daisy being twirled under your nose, sharing cotton candy, the smell of crisp apples, flannel sheets, the sound of dead leaves crackling under matching footsteps, a sturdy but shiny steel band around your finger suddenly substituted by a golden one.

That had been the beginning of the end. When practicality and simplicity had turned into conventionality and disinterest.

When gifts stopped being things you loved and became things he thought you loved. And then things everyone loved.

When love became a chore, that's when everything crumbled. When kisses became just a good morning and a welcome back, when there were no more laughs echoing in the kitchen, when leaves kept falling but it was your footsteps alone making them crackle, when flannel sheets kept feeling warm but still something was missing — because someone was missing — when suddenly there was no more time for fairs and cotton candy, when daisies became roses, Love stopped making sense. It stopped having a meaning for you.

You were no longer sure of the life you had built with the man of your dreams, the boy you had fallen in love with when you were eight, the guy who had walked with you across the corridors of your high school, who had made you twirl under the lame disco ball of your prom, who had gone through college finals with you, who had spent three summers making your hangout spot into a home, turning the small old shack into a proper place for you to build a new life together. He was your first kiss, your first valentine, your first time. He was the man at the end of the aisle, the man who would walk with you until the last of your days.

But one day he started running and you still walked.

Or maybe you were both running in different directions, no longer on the path to the same destination, your priorities somehow switched.

Of course, it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either.

You had both participated in this small unraveling, and you had both expressed the intention of changing, of finding compromise, an in-between, without either of you actually making the effort of fixing your trajectory, small habits and old pet peeves pulling you even farther apart.

The attempts — multiple ones — were painstakingly embarrassing. There were tears on both sides as you wondered what had caused this sudden rift that separated you — except it wasn't sudden, only your realisation was; the crevasse had been there for way longer. Maybe it had started as a small chipping the very day you met him, and it wasn't until now that you realised how the small sign had turned into an ominous presence, and then into unfathomable, inevitable doom.

And then the divorce.

It had been disgustingly easy, both parties agreeing on the procedures.

You didn't want the house. And you didn't need it. He didn't either.

Selling it had been exceedingly painless, you had shared the money, since he wanted to offer you stability. He already knew you would both suffer and he didn't want you worrying about rent. He was still your friend, after all.

Going back to being alone scared you at the beginning, until you realised that few things were truly bothering you. At least there wasn't this ghost of a human making you doubt all of your plans. You could plan dinner five days ahead or improvise. You could go to the restaurant as a last minute deal. You could go on long walks without the 'I'm sorry baby, emergency' making you rush back to town.

It felt like a bit of a liberation.

And your family's bookshop was doing well enough, since it was situated near the college and it also offered printing service.

Of course there were bad days. Sometimes you woke up searching for a body beside yours, however that feeling had significantly subdued after you had gotten used to the new bed. You missed human contact, being close, intimate with someone, having someone who knows you that deeply.

And then the true nightmare.

Finding someone new.

You were genuinely uninterested in dating. You had given it a go and it had sufficed.

It wasn't your world.

How could it possibly be?

You had never dated. You had basically offered your heart to the person that has always owned it. It's not like you had any experience in that labyrinth that is dating. All those unspoken social norms and the pining and tension. You only knew the comfort of a warm hug, the beauty of a kiss sparking from innocence and affection and slowly turning into steady, warm passion. You didn't like infernos, you liked candles. You liked the domestic hearth. You liked moderation.

And dating was all about extremes, from strangers to 'I'm inspecting your throat' on date one. And then suddenly it's date three and the same guy who brought you to a pizza place and a diner is suddenly going out of his way to bring you to a pretentious, expensive restaurant as a way to propitiate the possibility of you dropping your panties.

You had allowed this foolery only three times. Apparently all the suitable suitors were either really prone to pushing the pedal or had a passion for tongue gastroscopies.

The first one, Albert, had been quite the gentleman on date one. On date two he started making inappropriate jokes with a heavy body shaming undertone — a bit cliché for the stereotypical gym rat. And on date three he had dropped all pretenses at politeness and had outright palmed your ass in public, which made you rightfully uncomfortable. As you pointed that out, he proceeded saying that after all it was your third date and it was time to loosen up a little.

You didn’t even bother staying for dinner, left a bill on the table and left.

No matter the first disappointment, you decided not to let that disrespectful fool slow you down. And since your best friend knew everything about rat headed number one, you allowed her to set you up with one of her colleagues after she reassured you he was nothing like the one before.

Except somehow he was. The first date was at the local pub, and you somehow found yourself getting along well, his jokes were funny and he had good timing, he was relaxed, confident but still a bit clumsy and shy. He could be a good candidate.

But that was before he pushed his tongue to your tonsils as he kissed goodbye.

You gagged.

On date two he admitted you weren’t exactly his type. You were glad to reciprocate the statement after he told you his dream was having four children and a farm, alluding to the fact that his bride needed to be the perfect housewife.

You were pretty adamant that was not the kind of future you wanted for yourself.

Candidate number three was a guy you had met while grocery shopping, and somehow he had impressed you in an absolutely positive way on date one and two. Everything had been perfect, he was kind, considerate and well-mannered. Date three had been innocent, simple, down-to-earth. And then date four. Perfect dinner at his place. He had made you swoon and he had a very pretty cat he was very affectionate with.

He was the first man you had felt desire for in a very long time — almost eight months after your divorce.

The sex had been decent for being a first time.

And then he had entirely disappeared and never texted or called you back, which didn’t sit entirely wrong with you. You wished him all the best but you were actually glad. You liked being you and doing your own thing: having someone too much down your neck, getting in a relationship, having to check in with another person again felt more like a burden than a win.

Maybe it was just a coping mechanism to avoid facing the fact that he had been someone you could have liked, someone you could have built something with.

You were a happy woman, and it’s not like you really felt lacking or incomplete, like some of your single friends felt. And you had no intention of starting a family anytime soon, no matter if your old high school classmates had begun popping out kids left and right. You were more than happy to live the teen and early-twenty years you had spent in a relationship.

You were getting to know yourself in a way most of your friends didn’t have time to — you could already see them going through a midlife crisis after their kids became old enough to navigate life by themselves, which meant no more need for overprotective, and sometimes borderline suffocating, mothers, who suddenly found themselves with too much free time and too little tasks to complete.

Knowing your needs made you a stronger, better woman, and solitude had gifted you a level of introspection and balance that you doubted they could ever reach; maybe that was an arrogant consideration, but you knew there was no way knowing and loving yourself would ever bring you to crying over disrespectful, ungrateful youth whose only fault was that of growing up out of their mothers’ plans.

Unfortunately, there was no way your family — especially your grandmother — could ever tolerate the idea of you not needing a man and a family to be happy.

“Oh, come on, isn’t it time for you to bring a nice fellow back home?”

You shook your head as you and your grandma took a walk along the river, the sunny March afternoon feeling way too nice to stay at home. “Granny. There’s no people like Grandad anymore.”

“Oh, darling. You’re starting with the wrong role model. Not even back in my days we had men like him. He was the exception.” She nodded to herself with a sweet smile, remembering the husband she had lost a few years back.

“It’s so frustrating. And after all that happened… You know how it was. We were together for years. He was the only one I had. I don’t even know how to do these things. And books cannot teach you stuff like that. The more you read, the more you realise that most of these men had never even seen a rom com.”

“Oh, come on, but you have the internet these days! Can’t you find him in there? You have all these phones and computers and everyone has them, there must be a good one in the internet.”

She always said that “in the internet”. Like it was a physical place.

“I don’t even want to look in there, Granny. There are so many dangers in there.” You shuddered as you thought at the funny instagram pages where the people posted screenshots of the worst descriptions. All the embarrassing playboys and the fishermen and the lame wanna-be poets.

“Right… How can you know he is really is a person?” She considered, patting your back proudly. “You’re pretty. And you’ve always had the most perfect bum of all your cousins. Just like mine!” She grinned cockily, giving a playful smack to your ass, making you laugh loudly.

“It won’t last long.” You said, looking down. Solitude scared you sometimes. Being old and alone could be hard on the spirit and you had a feeling that old hag you would curse your dumb arrogance and inconsideration. However, for now you were still somehow making it through. Your divorce was finalised almost ten months ago. You could still consider yourself just fresh out of it.

“You’re smart. And I’m sure you have a lot to offer. You’re a good woman, and you’re far from being too old. There’s never a thing such as too old. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Look at me.” She said. “I’m still living a good life. Herbert has left me but I’m still here. Walking. Cooking. Drizzle keeps me good company.” She smiled sweetly at the mention of her dog, a lovely large poodle elegantly strolling at her side, its light grey fur finely trimmed by your grandmother’s expert hands. She had been a hairdresser for decades: learning how to keep Drizzle’s coat had been a cup of tea for her and he’d kept her distracted from grief after your grandpa passed away.

Her face formed a meditative pout. “Maybe you should just get a dog. Or even better, a cat. You’ve always looked like a cat child to me. So quiet and focused, like you knew some secret that nature would speak to you alone. You were always so attentive as a child!”

You smiled and looked at the path under your feet. Drizzle stayed unbothered as a loud, angry dachshund walked towards him, barking annoyingly. You had never felt sympathy for that small evil breed.

“I think I could get a kitten one of these days. Or a cat, from the shelter.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it in the internet!”

“So we’re really doing the party thing?”

“Listen, baby. It’s gonna be your first party as a free woman. Real mind blowing birthday sex.”

“I’m not a virgin, you know?” You stared at your face in the mirror, spreading some moisturiser over your forehead, inspecting the small lines there. You shrugged and let them be.

Maybe you would spend your best years single and find a sugar baby in ten or twenty years. Wait, weren’t those called toy boys?

Who cares.

Maybe it was time to get the post-grad you had always dreamed of. You would need to check your bank account before making that decision — maybe finally telling yourself yes could be the real birthday gift. That is, beside the huge dildo waiting in your drawer. Not being attracted to men or women didn’t mean you didn’t like sex.

You just found it difficult to imagine being with someone.

“Darling I’d bet an arm and a leg he never gave it to your right. You just need a bit more experience.”

All you needed was a hot bath, some candles and a good book. No man, no one night stand, no birthday sex could possibly make you as happy as decent jazz, wine and a novel.

“Why aren’t we doing that wine tasting at the winery out of town?”

“Because I want you choking on cheap alcohol, having all the fun you didn’t have on your twenty-first birthday because you were planning your own wedding. And I bet you’re the only one who wasn’t fucked in the bathroom of the Wickhead.”

Terry could be incredibly crude, but you loved her nonetheless. You loved her even more for it. She had never hidden anything from you, she had told you even the most embarrassing details of her own life. And she had always been the kindest, most faithful friend: she had driven you way out of town when you were eighteen and your period was late and you needed to buy a pregnancy test without all everyone and their dog knowing; she had chosen your wedding dress for you, spotting it and telling you it was going to be the one before you could even see it. When your marriage had started crumbling, she had spent countless nights with you, keeping you company when your husband was busy with his business trips. Though Terry had insinuated cheating, you knew he would never break your trust like that, and she had decided to trust your better judgement.

You had simply fallen out of love with each other.

And when you had moved into your new apartment, Terry had helped you repaint the walls and build the extra bookcases and install the shelves and fill your wine stand. Before leaving she had grabbed an unfamiliar box from her car, placing it on top of your bed, opening it and spreading out a set of “single necessaire”, as she called it. A couple toys, lube, condoms. To celebrate your re-found sexual promiscuity, she had said, though you objected, it was hard rediscovering something you had never had.

She had shaken her head and left you to “familiarise” yourself with everything.

“You know I’m not exactly a party person, Terry. This will end badly.” You said, sitting on your bed with your back against the headboard, your legs stretched out before you.

“You can allow yourself some fun once in a decade, you know?” You could hear her scoff on the phone.

“But I do have fun. Book. Wine. Bingo!” You explained, rolling your eyes as the booed.

“Come on, do it for me. Do it for your single friend who wants to get drunk and possibly sixty-nine? Please?” The other thing wrong with Terry is that if you ever met her in person, you would face the sweetest five foot three and a half — she insisted on the half — human being you could ever meet, with pretty wavy blonde hair and wide, sweet green eyes, the most boopable button nose and a sprinkle of freckles on her golden skin. She literally glowed in sunlight and her flowy gowns always made her look like a goddess: you could see men fighting for her, dying for her and going to war for just one of her gentle smiles.

“Don’t you have a FWB for that sixty-nine thingie?” You asked with an exceedingly inquisitive tone. It had been a while since she last updated you.

“Dumped him.” She replied curtly.

You tutted before exhaling. Emotionally constipated people — what’s wrong with them?

“He’s dating someone since he was ready for a relationship.” Terry sounded a bit colder than usual.

“And you weren’t?” You asked. You felt your tone hesitate with slight concern. You knew she would just put up a wall and ignore your question.

Fortunately, she didn’t. “I’m not ready to talk about that. It’s complicated, Frog.”

She was hurt and wanted a distraction.

“Okay, Terry. We’re going to get rip roaring drunk this Saturday.”

The line went silent.

“You know I love you right?”

“I love you too, sweetie. Now go to sleep, you have an early shift tomorrow.”

The line went silent after you bid each other goodnight, your body settling underneath the sheets once you realised your eyes were fluttering shut  as you tried to read a few pages to put yourself to sleep.

Placing down the book, you hugged the extra pillow, settling your face in the corner between your sleeping pillow and your spare one, the heavy woolen comforter acting like a weighted blanket. You placed another pillow behind your back, making a soft cocoon all around you.

Yes, sometimes you still missed being hugged to sleep.

The taglist is open!

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7