#everyone should post yours if youre comfortable!

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side

[moviestarmartini]

yellow flowers. — jude bellingham x gf!reader

él sabía, ella sabía y se olvidaron de sus flores amarillas.

summary: how can your relationship recover from such a serious argument the night before?

wc: 975

warnings: angst, not that much dialogue, like three words in spanish, established long-term relationship.

A/N: WHAAAAT?? GIGI POSTING TWICE IN A DAY??? its more likely than you think! thank las flores amarillas hehe.

now playing... flores amarillas from floricienta

The fight was stupid, really. 

You both had to admit it was. Even then, that doesn’t take away the fact it snowballed into issues each of you held back for what seemed ages, and only ended up with Jude slamming the door on the way out of your apartment. 

After hours of crying, your own exhaustion from the ordeal lulled you to sleep. When you rose up in the morning, neither your mind nor your body prepared for the fact it was a Saturday. 

Nor the fact everyone and their mothers were receiving yellow flowers, something you’d always craved but were always just another bystander. 

If you listened to that song again you might just rip your hair off. 

You had a whole day planned with Jude after the game, he wanted to do something special, but the fact you couldn’t hold back your jealousy the night before was more than enough to dampen the idea, whatever it was. 

For a second, you tried to put things on the positive side. A self-care day. In theory it was wonderful, but the second you sat alone in the bubbly bathtub, you broke down in tears. 

You’d been together for years. You changed your whole life around him, learning German to go to school in the same country and planning your masters in Spanish. Maybe that was part of the reason he called you spineless; you adapted to other’s needs and perspectives easier. His words bounced around your head, each reminder taunting you more. 

To top it all off, Spotify seemed to have a vendetta against you, your daylist was insanely depressing. 

“Is this because he plays for Real Madrid?!” You spoke out into the world, growing frustrated with your situation. 

That did spark an idea in your brain; or more of a reminder. 

Jude had a game today. And you weren’t going to be there to watch him. That just made you jump out of the bath, get changed into decent clothes and leave the house for once to watch him at your best friend’s house upon her request, miserably so even when the team got their footing back up— knowing you should be in the stands cheering him on. But alas, you weren’t.

And you wondered if you would ever be again. 

The moment he fell clutching his shoulder, your heart stopped. Tears welled in your eyes but you avoided letting them escape, remembering the long hours of work and recovery, the utter joy you felt when he informed both you and the team he was comfortable playing without the big chunky brace again. All that, and it crumbled down right before your eyes, like your relationship. 

Still, you didn’t hesitate on reaching for your phone, not finding any elation on the team’s victory. 

[ I know you don’t want to see or hear from me ] 

[ But how’s your shoulder? I’m seriously concerned ] 

You knew he wasn’t going to reply right away, and when your companion found out who you’d texted, she ripped the phone out of your hands and put it away for the reminder of your evening laced with white wine and take out sushi. 

“Thank you for releasing me, master.” You joked by the time she gave you the mobile back, swallowing hard upon seeing Jude hadn’t replied. 

He hadn’t even read it. 

Now you were actually panicking, swallowing down the tears in the Uber and wishing the small elevator could go fast enough that you didn’t break down somewhere that wasn’t in the comfort of your home. 

You were overwhelmed enough that you didn’t even take into account your door was unlocked when you clearly left it locked, nor the warm light coming from the tiny space under the doorframe. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Were the first words you registered before your eyes caught the indoor prairie your boyfriend had installed in your living room in the shape of yellow daisies. 

Your eyes trailed the hundreds of petals before your eyes finally fell on him, scanning from his toes up to the apologetic expression he was carrying. Now it all made sense; your friend insisted on getting you out of the house for this. He didn’t reply because of this. 

Though your heart was running at a whopping speed of thirty miles per second, your feet took you painfully slow— cautiously— towards him. You were still marveled, carefully watching where your sneakers landed to avoid stepping on the beautiful work he’d planned for you. 

“Perdón,” Jude repeated, as if the words in Spanish meant so much more than the English language. He opened his mouth for what seemed to be a rant, but the way you squeezed the life out of him with a desperate hug left him speechless, followed by your hugs. 

“I thought you— you were going to dump me and I would have to move back home and— and I can’t imagine that because I love you so much and that’s why I was scared!” You babbled between hiccups, trying to calm yourself down before his gentle hands cupping your face did the job spectacularly. 

“I would be such a fuckin’ idiot to do that.” He couldn’t help but let out a laugh, not at you nor your claims, but at how ridiculous he had been. 

“Te perdono,” You sniffled, your bottom lip still puckered up ever so slightly. 

“But what’s all this?” You turned to look at the scene, something straight out of a Van Gogh painting. 

“You thought I forgot with the thousand TikToks you sent me on this day?” He leaned in to kiss your forehead before pulling you into another warm hug. 

“I also watch Gilmore Girls whenever you do. Whoops.” 

Your laugh echoed as you snuggled closer to him in your upright position, being extremely thankful the last sentence of the song wasn’t your reality.

A/N: if y'all seriously thought it wasn't going to have a happy ending you clearly don't know me well enough rip

[hotvintagepoll]

Welcome to the HOT AND VINTAGE MOVIE STARS poll blog!

The Scrungly Little Guys (gender neutral) Contest will start THIS THURSDAY, September 26th. All contestants have now been processed and are ready to scrungle it up for your enjoyment. Reminder that this contest enshrines the weird, the off-putting, the comic, the character actor, and the strange cinema legend. If you need a reminder of what scrungle means, this picture is the golden standard.

All polls—including ongoing polls, previous rounds, old tournaments, the various shadow brackets, the Dracula Daily polls, and fun mini polls—can be found in the #hotvintagepoll tag. I am working on a more complete tagging system so people just here for the polls can navigate the blog more easily, but that's still in the works.

FAQs:

“Define scrungly?” For the purposes of this tournament, a contestant must noticeably present in some way as at least one of these: odd, bizarre, off-putting, disheveled, creeping, feral, small, filthy, silly, funny, kooky, comical, exhausted, or just plain strange. This contest presents a wide array of scrungly appeal, so not every contestant will hit every single one of these (but should, ideally, be a few of them). Scrungles were chosen based on how convincing their submitted propaganda was. This contest is all about oddball character actors, creeping henchmen, comic relief sidekicks—the side characters who never get the credit they deserve in proper rundowns of famous old movie actors.

"How do I decide who to vote for?" Vote on whoever seems scrungliest to you. Do not vote for someone based on hotness alone. The video propaganda, included under the cut, is highly encouraged for showcasing scrungles.

"Is this just like the hotness tournaments?" No. This contest is sillier.

"Hey! Some of these guys sucked and they shouldn't be here!" Yes, some of these guys sucked. I agree with you. For reasons I've gone into before, I don't exclude anyone from the contest for moral reasons, even if I personally think they were garbage. I do this because I cannot responsibly research and vet every competitor's background and legacy, and I'm not comfortable being the moral barometer for everyone, even in cases where I think it's really obvious. You are welcome to vote against people for moral reasons, but as mod I don’t post or boost negative propaganda about anyone.

If I see repetitive, trolling, or bigoted remarks in the comments, I will block you from this bracket. If you want to point out a competitor’s problematic aspects in the replies, that’s fine, but if I see bad-faith trolling, you will be blocked. I will also block if you start harassing other people voting on the polls. If you really hate that someone is winning, please post positive propaganda for their opponent instead.

I welcome additional propaganda for the scrungly little guys in reblogs or asks. I boost the best propaganda I see and try to boost equally for everyone. I don't accept propaganda that’s post-1970 or from non-film appearances. When sending your propaganda, please don't send me too many pics or videos at once (I max out at about four per ask.)

The views expressed in the propaganda are not my own. I don’t alter submissions beyond fixing obvious spelling mistakes. I do choose the poll pics, purposely trying to pick the silliest ones possible for this contest; if you think I could do even sillier, send me one I can use instead. If you think a contestant needs more propaganda, send me an ask with some and let me know if you'd like it added to the poll post if they make it to the next round.

“Who won the major hottie tournaments?” Eartha Kitt and Toshiro Mifune are the reigning hotness champions. They are both living it up by the pool in the sunshine, as far from the shadow realm as possible.

“The....the shadow realm?” All hotties who fail to continue in a hotness tournament are sent to the shadow realm, far below the crust of the earth where the sun never shines, a dark and dismal and gloomy place. (Boris Karloff keeps making everyone try his brandy-based guacamole.)

“Was [this famous person] submitted to any of the tournaments?” Try a tag search for them (ie, [#famous person name] in my search bar). If you still haven’t found your hottie, they either did not fit the criteria of working in movies from 1910-1970, weren't convincingly scrungly in their submission, or were not submitted at all.

“My FAQ isn’t on here :(” send me an ask! I love hearing from you guys—just please check these basics first.

Thank you for being here! Enjoy the polls.

Tournament schedule post-hiatus:

Ongoing: Dracula Daily casting polls

Starting September 26th: Scrungly Little Guys contest (gender neutral)

After that: Ultimate Hottie Tournament (top brackets of the hot men & hot women competing together)

TBD: Hottest On-Screen Couples (Astaire and Rogers, Bogie and Bacall, etc)

TBD: Horror Hotties (Frankensteins, Draculas, Brides, etc.)

TBD: Dandy Detectives (Marples, Sherlocks, Nancy Drews, etc.)

fun mini polls that pit sets of characters from the same movie together, like the Philadelphia Story or Seven Brides for Seven Brothers ones (these can be found in the #minis tag)

[evilminji]

You know my Crechelings Are Possessed post?

What if it was just the one? A SI-OC or OC?

Dying and going THROUGH the Force? I will attest, is GONNA have side effects. You're gonna end up... weird. Not Normal for a Force Sensitive. Kinda like Anikin tbh. A bit TOO in tune. A bit TOO aware. Connected.

As though your brain was cracked open 5+ dimensionally, to the Whole Of Creation that IS the Force and it kinda fucked you up a bit. Cause as A Luminous Force Being? You were fine! Energy and light! But as MATTER? Well...

Matter breaks.

Can withstand only so much.

We are LIMITED by our matter, crude and flawed as it is. Beloved as it may be.

Cause make no mistake! You aren't BROKEN. But you are CHANGED. There were a series of clear, monumentous, and "life" altering events back to back here! Death, a traumatizing thing no matter HOW peaceful it may have been. And in all likelihood? It was NOT a peaceful end. It probably? Hurt. Was frightening. Abrupt. There is grief and hurt there. Fear.

Then the trauma of being separated from everyone we have ever known. Without closure. For them OR us. Our empathy would remind us of their suffering. That they do NOT know we are okay. That we have no way to TELL them we are. This too, is trauma. But? Worse?

Is the Force.

We? Are no Jedi. Not yet. We are confused. Lost and do not understand. It is FOREIGN to us. An outside will that we cannot escape. Where are our gods? The death we expected? The afterlife we assumed we would meet? It's INSIDE US. It IS US. We are IT. We don't know where we are and everything feels?

E N D L E S S .

Can force ghosts even cry? Weep, terrified and overwhelmed? Afraid? Simply BRINGING us to them would not impart understanding. And imparting understanding? Well... we know it to be not OF us? To be inflicted. An invasion. The Force is not cruel. But! Importantly! It is not and has never BEEN? Mortal.

Blue and Orange morality is at play. How do you explain to a formless, infinite, all knowing, all powerful God Force? The concept of "boundaries"? Limits? There is GOOD to be done. It's helping you! Pushing love and comfort! Surely that should work? Why is that not working? It is... confused. Not MADE for such contemplations.

This too, is Trauma. Being held in the hands of a God. Benevolent does not mean SAFE. Does not mean you will not be unharmed. Just... that they do not MEAN to harm you.

Or have very Good Reasons for why they "Must".

The Force Ghosts help. They are patient in the way only old Master's could be. Kind. They understand. Have taught. And so? Though they are quite confused, they understand you struggle to release your fear. Explaining things helps. Talking helps. And you find peace.

Not the afterlife you EXPECTED, but not terrible.

Which... of course, is when once again things change.

Birth, Life, these TOO, are Trauma. You were FREE. No more pain. No aches. No hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion. Connection deeper then this broken and flawed matter could ever hope to achieve. The world has gone SILENT. Muffled. Like solitary confinement for the SOUL.

Only in meditation, are you FREE.

Your parents can't handle you. You grieve for them. For the child they should have had. Look around the nursery, so filled with excitement and love, and feel nothing but the urge to weep. You are a stillborn, brought to life. A child stolen. They deserved better then this. Even as you can not be anything but what you ARE? What of THEIR sorrow? Their confusion and futures now impossible?

You love them. They are not yours. Will never tryely be your parents, for all they brought you into this world. But oh, Oh, you love these poor grieving souls. Wish it had not been you. That they could have had the child they were so excited to love. You... you are sorry. So, so sorry.

They take you to the Temple. You guild them to a child in need, first. Hope they will be happy.

You do not look back.

They put you in a Creche with others just as "Unusually Strong" in the Force. Is that Grogu? Hi Grogu. Who are the rest of you? The room is quite. Everyone talking loudly in the Force, instead. It would be deafening for the more delicate younglings. They don't have the shields for it yet. The children here SHOUT without meaning too, like standing at a rock concert.

Visions are a constant thing. Unusual Force gifts and manifestations. Illirrrska can see auras. Doesn't know what they MEAN, mind you, and xe sees them on EVERYTHING that lives, but still! Xey are well on xeir way to figuring it out. (Xey have a holo document cataloging the colors, you see.)

You fit right in! With your Tiny Herald Of Death To Come nature. Your Creche mates believe you. The adults? Have grown numb. Used to filtering. Tiny younglings with Too Much Force flowing through them? Are horrors. Viscerally unsettling. Unnatural.

Even to the Jedi.

But! They REFUSE to treat children with such caution and distain. Hold them at an arms length out of FEAR. So they mentally filter. "That's nice dear, horrifying concepts and brain melting secrets, mmmhmmm. Eat your pudding. Who wants to play float ball~‽ Yaaaaaay!"

No one will listen. Future in motion. But really, of course it is. You are no fool.

However... tell me, Master Jedi. Does it matter? If we die one step to the right as apposed to the left? Because you would not LISTEN when the Force spoke? The future only changes when you ACT. Not when you REFUSE too. Out of FEAR. Out of IGNORANCE. Out of ATTACHMENT.

And make no mistake, you ARE attached. Clinging so hard to your beliefs that you could not POSSIBLY be wrong. Could not POSSIBLY be fallible, be fooled by the Dark Side and lead astray, that you have turned your back on the very Tennants of the Code itself.

What is more important? Tradition or the Force? The innocent or the way things were? Tell me, what is the will of the Force... and what is Fear? Convenience? The little moral compromises that damn? Who do you serve, Master Jedi? And ARE you serving them?

Perhaps you should meditate.

Just???

This Tiny Cryptid Crecheling? That speaks like a wizened old Master? Feels like a tiny star in the Force? Not a cute lil ball of light. A FUCKING STAR. Giant ball of gas in space, a burning ball of light, THAT kind of star! But... small? Person shaped. It's like meditating next to a Force Nexus.

They just? Hand you things. Or sabotage random ships. Literally just FUCKING SHOT a knight once, for no clear reason! All they would say is "it's not like you'll actually listen. This is the only way." What? Of COURSE WE'LL LISTEN! (No. They won't. Just ask Sifo. Ask Obi-Wan. The Sith, fear, and hubris have eroded the Jedi from within.)

The full blown confidence of an adult? Combined with the creepy "oh god. They're in THE VENTS!!!" Nature of highly force sensitive Crechelings?

Magnificent~☆

They can see into your SOUL. Are holding a toddler that squirms around, wiggles up to whisper in their ear, gets a nod, only for YOU to be somberly informed that your second in command (a life long friend) has betrayed you. Avoid wearing red. You will die on a Friday. By the way, they can't reach the counter... could you hand them those snacks?

One of the other one speaks to trees.

The trees SPEAK BACK.

Prophecy. Fuckin Terrifying Prophecy EVERYWHERE.

Did YOU want to know that your grandson will grow up to kill his brother? No? Too bad! Not even married yet? ALSO TOO BAD! Have FUN with that knowledge! How about learning that there is horrific suffering planets away? No. No there ISN'T anything you can do about it. Just... here! Have some Deeply Cursed Knowledge. From a toddler. Now! They're gonna go eat grass~☆

The appear and disappear at random. Climb the walls. Fuckin FLOAT. The Force itself is their imaginary friend! They literally consult it over PUDDING CHOICES. Sometimes? They talk in perfect synchronization, like a hive mind. Stare without blinking. One moment they are perfectly normal children... the next? Like PUPPETS.

Tiny avatars. Through which SOMETHING GREATER speaks. They KNOW, not think, KNOW what they need to do. You can not convince them. Trying just makes you an obstacle to be overcome.

They are four.

Toddlers and children. Younglings. Initiates!

I just? Want there to be? A portion of Deeply Cursed/Possessed Crechelings? That are just LIKE that. Loved regardless. Nothing wrong with them. They're just too strong for their lil bitty baby brains. Once they learn to shield better? It'll balance out. Anikin would have gone there, had he been found young.

It'd be hilarious? If what saves the galaxy? Is someone finally REMEMBERING that? And thinking to themselves?

"Hey, you know what might be good for that Skywalker kid? Being exposed to more Force Sensitives that GET him. We should put him on Cursed Crechelings duty for a bit." And??

Anikin? Is in LOVE? They are all so SMOL an NORMAL? Finally! Jedi who aren't EMOTIONALLY DISTANT! Shielded? What do mean "Shielded"? No I'm not shouting all the time! This is my normal speaking voice! *Skywalker confusion as he cuddles babies*

Cause like? He too? Spoke in horrifying prophecy? Was vaguely Anti-christ-y? Did the (o.o) see into your sooooooul stare? So WHAT? That's just how babies ARE!

.....what do you MEAN "no"?

Every day, throwing open Obi-Wan's poor, slowly being destroyed, front door like "Master! Did you know I am AN OUTLIER!? And REALLY LOUD!? Other people aren't emotionally crippled psychopaths, they're just really REALLY quite compared to me!!" "Ah. Yes, Anikin, please. Maybe say that LOUDER. I don't think the ENTIRE temple quite heard you... -_- "

Just?? Anikin Skywalker! And his Hoard of Creepy Possessed Crechelings that are TOTALLY NORMAL, Guys! All kids are like this! He's a GREAT role model and baby sitting! Yeah, it's the Clone wars, and no, he has NO idea how the entire Creche got onto the ship... but hey! Enrichment! That's good for them, right?

(^-^) (o.o) (|o.o|) (o,o) (o-o) (|o,o|)

*clones look from their general, to the tiny unblinking magic jedi babies, back to their general* s-sure?

@legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @leftnotright @starwarsblr

[thewritingwolfie]

trusting - harvey sdv fic

pairing: Harvey x Farmer OC (September)

warnings: mentions of sex (!!MDNI!!), self-doubt & anxious thinking patterns (from Harvey), hurt comfort if there was more comfort than hurt

summary: after a night of role-switching, September can't convince Harvey to let her take care of him

word count: 1.2k

a/n: LMAO AM I FORMATTING THIS RIGHT. first time I'm ever posting a fic on like. almost anything (except i did a couple things on ao3 a bit ago but that's different). hopefully this is super cool and not cringe gang <33

~~~ Harvey wouldn’t hear anything of it.

He was standing in his apartment, nearly naked, flummoxed, and staring at a very exasperated September. She’d come to see him for the evening, but after-hours alone at the clinic usually meant things led from one thing to another. Well, most of the time, Harvey prided himself on the aftercare aspect of things after knocking her socks off. But tonight, he had not only taken on a more… submissive role, but now she was insisting she take on that caretaker role.

“No, no, September. Sit down. I can get us our usual snacks,” he said, holding up a hand to silence her protests. It was his job, in and out of this relationship, to take care of her.

September groaned, running her hands through her hair. “Harvey, love of my life, apple of my eye, I swear to Yoba.”

“What? This is what we do every time.” He went to take a step forward, having to pace himself from his wobbly legs. September hadn’t exactly spared him. “We get, ah, intimate, we wind down, and I take care of you. I don’t really understand what your problem is.”

“My problem, love, is that our dynamic was different tonight. You wobbled as you stepped, don’t think I didn’t see it,” September replied, cocking an eyebrow at his legs.

Shit. She was always an observant type. Harvey adjusted his glasses, face dusted with pink. “Well, yes, I suppose, but-”

“No buts.” She gently stepped up to him, pushing his shoulders so he fell back onto the couch in his living room. “I’ll make some snacks. Rest up.”

“September-!” he gasped, making a move to sit up. But his body, wracked with aftershocks and exhaustion, let out a protest stronger than his will. He grumbled, crossing his arms. Why was she being so insistent? 

He watched her in his tiny kitchen, pulling together some snacks on a plate. She looked so calm, so intent on doing this. Some pang of emotion shot through Harvey’s chest as he watched her move, only in her undergarments, bringing over glasses and wine and food. She was pushing herself too hard, wasn’t she? He had to step in, he had to be the chivalrous doctor everyone knew him to be-

His flurry of thoughts was interrupted by the feeling of the farmer’s body bumping his as she sat down. “Here, I got those little pickles you like so much. You should eat, you’ll feel better.”

Harvey stared at the plate. He… didn’t have an appetite. “Why?”

“Hm?” September cocked her head.

“Why are you… doing this? I mean- it’s my job. I’m a doctor, I take care of you, right?” he spoke slowly, his hands rubbing the edge of the couch nervously. “You work so hard, doing your farmwork all day, not to mention the mines, a-and running errands for the town… this is the least I can do, isn’t it?”

September watched him speak, watching his face twitch with despair as he spoke. His voice began to crack. She’d never seen him so… vulnerable. Harvey almost burned with shame. Why wasn’t she responding?

“Oh, Harv,” she whispered, reaching over to cup his cheek. “You do so much for me. I never expect you to just- to just throw yourself into caretaker mode after we mess around, dear. You deserve that same care you give to me, silly!” She laughed softly, kissing his cheek, speaking so casually as if it was information he’d know all along.

Harvey felt a soft choke of tears. How was this so easy for her to say? He couldn’t afford to let himself relax as a doctor. He never had. “September-”

She shook her head. “Hold on.” September wrapped around him, pulling him onto her chest as she laid back on the arm of the couch. “Okay, talk.”

Had he ever been held like this? Harvey opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a soft whimper. The whimper gave way to the dam in his throat and behind his eyes, which gave way to a soft, strangled sob.

September startled, pulling him tight. “Oh- love, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, tangling a hand in his soft hair. “Hey, shh, shh, I’m here. Did something go wrong during our-?”

“No," he whispered softly, weakly pulling his glasses off of his face to wipe at his eyes. In front of her? He felt even more awful. “No, no, everything was- was nice, I just-" 

He let out a shaky sigh as she curled her fingers at the base of his neck, massaging it with gentle care. She hummed softly, feeling his body shake from trying to hold in his tears. “Not used to this?" she whispered, a sympathetic smile on her lips.

“I'm supposed to take care of you," he whined, hugging her waist. “Why can't I-?" 

“Because you're exhausted, Harvey. You have done so much for others today. How many checkups have you done?” she asked, not giving him a breath to answer. They both knew. "How many records have you filed?” Too many. 

Harvey buried his head in her skin, considering her. She was too soft and too comfortable to fight anymore, so he gave in. But still, mentally, he couldn't relax. “September-" 

“Harvey, can you listen to me for a second?" 

He couldn't say no, so he just nodded.

She sat up, gently propping them both against the couch in a half-up half-down position. He laid on her chest and her arms encircled him. "Okay. Look. You're a doctor. How important is after are for a patient after a medical experience such as a surgery?" 

“Vital," Harvey responded, barely thinking. It was like he was back in med school for a mere blink of an eye.

“Exactly. And if a patient has a panic attack, how important is aftercare?" 

“Still vital." 

“Uh huh. So tell me why this is different,” September said, kissing the crown of his head.

Here he fell silent. He felt September smile against his skin.

“Exactly. Harvey, you are a human as much as anyone else. No one could ever ask you to be on target 24/7. If you didn't sleep at night you'd crash and burn for sure.” She tilted his head up so his eyes met hers, smiling brighter to make sure he could see it through the fuzz of tears and the lack of glasses. “I love you. I feel no weird begrudging obligation. I will always be there to catch you when you fall. And I need you to trust that I will tell you when I can't. Can I trust you to trust me?”

His eyes flicked between the blobs that he was sure were her own. Could he trust her? With his life. So why was this so hard to swallow? Was it even safe? Was he safe?

Harvey took a slow breath. Of course he was.

"Okay,” he croaked, voice a little weak from the night. "I can.”

"Good,” September mumbled, kissing him briefly. "We can trust each other.”

Harvey hummed, sleep threatening to overtake him. He hugged September closer, burying into her skin, making her giggle against him. Maybe he couldn't be entirely sure. But even a small chance of success was worth going for, wasn't it?

Finally, fading into the soft, welcoming arms of sleep, Harvey let go for the first time.

[zaceouiswriting]

Fairy Prince - Hearts of Leviathans - Ch.34

Character: Sky x male reader, Riven x male reader, Brandon x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Winx Club/Saga

Warnings: Non-consensual advances

(Please welcome our beloved, golden retriever-like, loyal, maybe a little possessive guy, Brandon…I mean…Sky.)

When we finally get to the house, I ask the soldiers to let us down again. Although my new friend's knees were still pretty wobbly, she could stand mostly independently with some help.

“I give you permission to leave!” The two soldiers salute once more before disappearing into the ground and returning to where they belong.

“They were good men, weren’t they?”

I couldn't help but sigh heavily. "According to legend, they were the best in every sense of the word," I tell her, unable to hide the sadness in my voice. "Apparently, there was once a ritual where the best soldiers of each generation were sent to join the ranks of the legendary hidden military unit of the Deep Rock Legion in case we needed an army of incorruptible and fiercely loyal soldiers. But in the long run, it ruined our population. Of the ten million we had left after the orbital crash, there are now just over seven million left, and my grandfather isn't helping."

"Your grandfather? But that would mean-"

I quickly realize my mistake. Until now, everyone thought I was trying to boast about myself by calling myself a prince. But now that I've talked too much and I'm desperate to make new friends, I know I can't lie to her anymore.

“I am the crown prince of Gyonos and, therefore, its guardian fairy, the last fairy in my world after my grandfather.”

She gasped when I shared my revelation with her, and before I knew it, she had come over to me and pressed her slightly plump body against me in a way I hadn't experienced often in my life: a hug so warm that a few tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.

For the first time in ages, I feel like I can let myself be seen crying in front of someone, and maybe it's selfish, but I take full advantage of it. I cry into her head, as she is tiny compared to me. To my surprise, she doesn't walk away but stands there and speaks in a warm, comforting voice, telling me that everything will be okay in the end and how much I want to believe her words, but I know better. I have seen the truth behind people's attentions, fallen victim to the betrayal of those closest to me, and experienced death many times. I didn't cry when he died, not after I had to let him leave my arms when our posts were overrun by those monsters. I will never be able to forgive the Scallierds or forget what they did and what they forced me to do.

I hold her for what feels like an eternity. But when I finally let go of her, she looks straight into my watery eyes. Her blue-green eyes shimmer with what I can only describe as a motherly concern, a desire to be there for me emotionally, and I couldn't be more grateful.

“You should go inside, it’s late and cold,” I tell her quietly.

She smiles kindly. "You should, too. After all, you're probably just as exhausted as I am." Her voice is warm, really like a mother's.

"Sure, but I would like a few minutes to myself before I return to my personal dark world or, more commonly known, my dorm room.“

She nods understandingly, wishes me goodnight, and goes inside, leaving me under the star-studded night sky. I wait until she's gone before turning around and looking across the large, empty field into the forest beyond. I take a deep breath, raise my right hand, and see it shaking. My magical reserves feel depleted; the healing processes and summoning of those soldiers were too much for my fairy core. I need to train; I can't even fight a specialist like this without being knocked to the ground in seconds.

I feel frustration building up inside me. How could it be otherwise? I've gone from being a prodigy in magic and weapon combat to this pathetic excuse of a fairy. I would be unstoppable if only I could access the abilities contained in the crystallized cores of my ring. But how? I hold out my hand holding the ring and marvel at it. Somehow, it only looks normal now that the two cores are in it, surrounding my family's crest in its center. Many have an initial letter, but my family decided to fill it in with our entire crest, as detailed as possible in this small form, with the only exception being that the two sword-shaft-like pieces of metal always hung off the sides. I always thought that happened over the eons the ring was used, but now that the two cores are safely clammed underneath them, I realize there should be something in them. But what? If it's for magic cores, then why aren't there three? What does my family or planet have two of?

I ponder these questions for a while, only coming back to myself when a cold breeze sends a shiver through my body. This is the best time to go back inside. As soon as I step into the building, a fleeting sigh of relief comes over me. 

With my eyes closed, I enjoy the warmth heating my cold bones. But when I open them again just a minute or so later, confusion fills me. I try to reach out to protect myself, but before I can, I'm pulled off my feet, my rear end grabbed, and my front pressed against a warm, muscular body. Before I know it, my legs are wrapped around that person's waist, and we are no longer in the foyer. He carries me around until he finally forces open a door and mindlessly slams my back against a metal shelf and then my head against some boxes. A groan of pain escapes my lips as the metal stabs into my back.

But before I could react, soft lips were on mine. Shock floods through my entire being as the moment has taken me completely by surprise. My eyes widen, forcing me to stare at him. There, pressing me against the shelves and trying to push his tongue into my mouth, is Sky. I couldn't believe it. He was always so gentle and kind, but now he's carrying me around and kissing me without my consent. I try to push him away, but he feels like an immovable object, heavier than a mountain. I even punch at his rock-hard pecs as I feel myself slowly falling into him. And before I know it, our lips move in perfect harmony; my mouth even opens slightly as he grips my ass a little tighter. His tongue swallows my moan. My hands land on his back. But suddenly, I can feel him smirking against my lips, making me wonder if this is what he wanted.

My hands quickly move from his chest, where I have only shown him aggression, to his neck and pull him closer to me. What is that feeling—this warmth deep in my stomach? Or this tingling further south?

Even though hundreds of these thoughts of the strangest feelings are racing through my head, I can't let go of him. His woody smell, mixed with the sweetness of something in his mouth, intoxicates my senses. I feel the desire rising for him to continue and take what he wants.

This time, not even the thought of him and his senseless death could spoil my mood, as I feel safe and even desired in Sky's arms.

"I fucking knew it." I hear him suddenly grumble. When I open my eyes from the daze, I see Sky's blurry image, his pale face flushed and his expression serious, if not angry. When I try to say something, he pushes me roughly against the shelf, his legs pushing up. "You've wanted me since you first saw me."

I can only stare at him in confusion, but he is already kissing my neck, biting me gently, and whispering things in my ear that were dirtier than anything I'd ever heard before. Something was clearly wrong.

I hold his face in my hands and try to get him to look at me, but when he finally does, his expression turns angry. Before I know it, his hand is around my neck, his grip is tight, and he is choking me painfully.

"But then I saw you with the girl and these two huge men. I couldn't believe it! Before I could make a move, you had already gone out and found yourself some toys."

When he calls my stone soldiers "toys," my heart starts to burn. How dare he call honorable men that? He has obviously misunderstood something, but when I open my mouth to clarify, his grip on my neck tightens even further, so much so that I can hardly breathe. He seems to have lost his mind, but what can I do?

"Sky!" I barely manage to say, but he's not listening. Instead, he talks about me, telling me what a selfish wanker I am for allowing both Riven and Sky to touch me and defile my body for him. 

I can't believe the Gaul of him thinking I would stay pure for him, and then suddenly, something bursts out of him that he probably didn't want to say. He shouts out what I already suspected, namely that he and Sky have switched identities.

The fact that he lied to me for so long hits me the hardest. I thought I could trust him; after all, he always came to my cell when I was a prisoner, cleaned me, and fed me one by one to torture me like the wild animals they are, but that was obviously just wishful thinking. It makes me angrier than I probably should have been, so I turn the tables. Finally, I grab him by the neck and hope he lets go, but he starts grinning in a sinister way. It sent cold sweats down my spine to see something so vicious on the face of a man who always seemed like a puppy.

"I fucking dare you," he said through pursed lips, staring madly into my eyes, "Squeeze harder, I dare you!"

I've never felt so intimidated before. Is there something wrong with him? Suddenly, his grip on my neck tightens enough to easily snap it; no doubt there will be many bruises afterward. I have to make a decision. If he keeps this up, I will surely die.

"Brandon!" I yell, making him stop. Confusion is clear on his face, his eyes glowing with dawning realization. His hand quickly withdraws. As I gasp for air, he holds me upright, one of his hands behind my head and the other trying to protect as much of my spine as possible. He begins to apologize endlessly, like a child found with his hand in the cookie jar.

I try to breathe, but my throat burns painfully. Yet, I push against his chest again; this time, he lets me down but still holds my body upright for a minute. My body is at its limit from the rapid healing before, and the now compromised state is just too much. Thankfully, it only takes a short time before the rest of the healing magic still coursing through me at least helps to ease the swelling in my throat, just enough to let me breathe evenly.

I want to lecture him, scream at him, and let all my feelings out, but his glassy eyes tell me he's not there. Hopefully, it's just the clearly smuggled alcohol and not something more serious.

I try to get past him, but he quickly tries to hold me back. He mumbles something about me catching my breath, giving me hope that even in this situation and condition, he's still trying to help me. But it feels wrong because none of this was consensual, as if he's trying to clear his conscience of what he did to me here in this... in this supply closet.

Somehow, the place we ended up in while making out makes me feel even worse. Am I just a toy to him? Did I misjudge his personality? Is he really a player who breaks people's hearts? I feel so stupid, so silly. Why did I let this happen? I could have prevented everything, but I didn't. Why?

"Please, I- I was just so overwhelmed-"

Before he can spit out his lies, all I see is red, and anger shoots through my veins, just like it did on the battlefield. Can I control it this time? My anger had always been uncontrollable, like I was an explosion just waiting to go off. But this time, in this small room, surrounded by Brandon's intoxicating scent, it doesn't seem to be able to happen, even though my anger threatens to boil over. The overall emotions just weren't there. It was almost as if the last explosion had balanced me unknowingly out. 

But that couldn't be. How could the death of my true love be the catalyst for my anger to subside?

[Masterlist]

[jabeur]

to the anon who is new to tennisblr and intimidated, me too!!! like everyone is friends with everyone and I feel like an intruder everyone here has so good posts!!!!

🫂🫂🫂🫂 you are NOT an intruder i PROMISE !! no one is, this space is open to anyone, you can join in at any time !! we love seeing new people be insane about this stupid sport with us !!!

i do get it tho, i know coming from someone who was like, in the fandom already that must sound like "yeah, easy for you to say!" 🫂🫂

you do you anon, be yourself and if it feels comfortable, start talking to people a little bit at a time! even just rbing people's posts with tags. this is tumblr and that also counts as talking to each other <3 i could give you advice but truly i think what's most important is that you be yourself and do what feels comfortable! this should be a happy space! try not to beat yourself up, it's normal to feel distant from others in the fandom at first, but i'm sure you will both be able to have a fun time with us 💗

and this is an official invitation to both you and other anon to message me if and when you want! my dms and asks are open <3 send me silly stuff cool pics thoughts memes tennis questions things that have nothing to do with tennis anything!! or leave a reply or anything idk we can talk however you want <3 if you feel more comfortable remaining anonymous rn we can talk thru anon asks!!! or not, your choice of course, just please know we're all ready to welcome you in and you could NEVER intrude 💕

[archivalofsins]

Addendum (September 23, 2024 5:03pm )- It was brought to my attention by a concerned friend inquiring if something had happened yesterday that this post can come off as complaining about a fandom issue of some sort. Because of how often "Don't be like x" (in particularly Futa) has been used in regards to ongoing Milgram fandom incidents.

It was not my intention to invoke those sort of alarming past experiences for anyone that may have come across this post. My intentions when writing this were to interrogate the prevalence of that phrasing when it came to Futa as a character while including the prisoner paired with him known for bullying as well.

To put it in a plain and jovial way- These are my feelings in regards to this topic in a meme format,

Since I have now been informed of how emotionally disruptive this phrasing can be given the things it's been associated with in the past at least within the tumblr Milgram community I will be putting it under a cut with one more addendum further down that uses the same phrasing.

Once again saying to not be like Mu.

It's easy for individuals to understand why they shouldn't be like Futa. In a lot of ways, not many people would see their actions as being similar to his even when they are. This is why I stress not to be like Mu either.

Because it seems to me that a lot of people are comfortable with being bullies as long as they convince themselves they were the victim first.

A trait that's present throughout both Futa and Mu's narratives. Even if not many people recognize how emotionally manipulative, insidious, and abusive this sort of behavior is socially.

Because just like with these two, some will convince themselves it's the other parties fault for doing something wrong first.

That the person who did something wrong should just,

"You apologize if you do something wrong, you learn that even before words, don't you?"

Q.09 Do you want to apologise to the person you killed?

Mu: I think the person who did something wrong first should apologise first.

These two are simply not as different as some fans like to tell themselves. They are both reactionary bullies. Just because one goes on offense (attacks) and the other defense (cries/deflects) doesn't make one any better than the other. That's why they both got into codependent relationships with another prisoner over the first trial intermission.

Both Amane and Haruka provide them with something. Giving Futa and Mu hope and help in a difficult situation. Along with something to do with themselves to prove their own worth. They also both took on a naturing and protective role in Amane and Haruka's lives. Making the other their main priorities as of the second trial.

23/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Futa: Oi, you. Is he ok? He’s not even left his room lately.

Mu: You mean Haruka-kun? Hmm. Yeah, probably. I’ve been bringing all his meals to him so he should be fine. Isn’t that great of me?

Futa: Hah? Who the hell says that sort of thing about themself. ……ah, no, well, right now I understand a bit. When you’re feeling down, it’s nice to have someone who relies on you and accepts you. The rest of us can’t really understand you from where we’re standing. But well, if you’re Haruka’s “salvation” then I guess it really is great.

Mu: Salvation……? I don’t know what you mean. Futa-kun, you don’t sound like yourself. Did you hit your head or something? Oh, wait, you actually did, didn’t you. Ahaha. Ah, putting that aside though, did you know it’s my birthday today?

Q.02 What do you think of Haruka?

Futa: I can’t afford to be worrying about other people at the moment. Anyway, he’s not a little kid.

This is also why one of my first posts discussed them together. They were both even abandoned by their groups,

"Everyone else was having fun, weren't they? What about them?! Why is it just me?!"

Q.18 Do you regret anything?

Mu: I think maybe I should have chosen my friends a bit more carefully.

Q.11 Who do you want to see right now?

Mu: I miss my friends too. But most of all, Papa and Mama.

Yeah, don't be like either of them, actually.

This is not a healthy thing to strive for. The only difference between them is that Futa takes the orders, and Mu gives them. Aptly portrayed in the relationships they've formed over the course of Milgram.

Also, a bully is a bully regardless of if they cry about it. Women have been weaponizing crying for decades. Stop pretending like this is a brand new undiscovered form of manipulation it's not.

Addendum (September 23, 2024 5:03pm ) continued: Also it was not intent to specifically call to attention Mu's characters flaws or take any digs at people who relate to her. Saying things like don't be like x character can be inconsiderate towards individuals who relate to that character a lot especially if it's something done on a consistent enough basis.

These are once again my feelings on that in meme format.

[hamtaro-y0]

It's spotify wrapped time!! Ngl this one kinda surprised me. I definitely find new songs and only listen to them on repeat for weeks but I did not think I listened to those that much lol. I guess some of my later obsessions didn't have enough time to compete

[chronically-ghosted]

day before a 5 day holiday weekend. office empty. got me thinking thoughts.

[fallershipping]

I love Looker and his gender-nonconforming wife

(I love Anabel and her gender-nonconforming husband)

[fearandhatred]

.

[hecksupremechips]

Shinjiham is cute when it’s romantic but tbh I think i vastly prefer the idea of them being best friends instead. Like, neither of them really saw it coming and weren’t really looking to get another best friend (Shinji has Akihiko, Kotone has Junpei and Yukari respectively) but it happens anyway. Kotone takes a liking to Shinji much faster than she does anyone else and I’d say a big reason is just the fact that he’s so reserved that it allows Kotone to do most of the talking while he just listens and they love this arrangement cuz Kotone doesn’t get to talk about her own interests very much. Though I think some of her needs to talk to Shinji stems from this insecurity that he isn’t happy in the group and she has this people pleasing problem and wants everyone to be happy so she makes a much bigger effort to talk to Shinji. And it’s very unfortunate because Shinji intentionally acts cold and distant because he doesn’t want to form any attachments because he wants to die soon, but aaaaaaaagh dammit this girl just keeps talking to him and being sweet and encouraging him to engage in his interests and share them with the others and he just can’t seem to say no when she’s got those damn puppy eyes. And Kotone is just able to get him out of his shell by being persistent but not in an overwhelming way, she’s very cheerful and supportive of him. And Shinji is able to offer her support by encouraging her to talk about herself and by making sure she’s taking care of herself. They just click really well and make such a positive dent in each other’s lives and it’s all about basic acts of kindness going a long way you know?

[crescentfool]

beaming everyone on the dashh with good brain day vibes!!! i hope that you all can remember to extend self-compassion to yourself whenever you're feeling down about something 💙

[they-of-fixation]

Die Alone Together [Placeholder Name; DRAFT]

A Cult of The Lamb fic (my AU)

There I lay, crouched in the grass, clinging to myself desperately; falling, falling, falling... my mind miles below the soil in which I cowered. The moment I fell to my knees, there became of time this... dissonance, a rift between it and space, and though the ground caught me, I never quite stopped falling- falling away from myself, from this place, and into a memory; miles away from here, years, suspended in an unreachable past and yet frozen in the present. For my dissociation, I could hardly think but one thing:

I was too late.

They're all-

I could scarcely hear myself screaming, nor could I feel the tears stinging my cheeks, nor the burn in my lungs or the ache in my legs from the fighting; my body did not and does not feel like my own. I am not in it. Everything felt distant as I held myself, and as I drew the corpse of one of my own to my chest, I realized how far this place had become from my home.

'They're all dead.'

And I will never get them back.

I don't know how long I laid there for, but I do remember thinking myself damned to the same fate, trapped in the same place; that I'd die there, alongside my brethren, eventually- in some way. I couldn't bring myself to leave them, not even to stand, and had little reason to think anyone would find nor save me. I was alone in the depths of Darkwood, miles away from any living thing- who could possibly hear my crying? I could hardly hear myself, and any person who might would surely, in devotion to the Bishops of the Old Faith, to the Worm, Leshy, end my life.

That is, or so I thought.

There was movement, rustling, in the brush surrounding me, and I was suddenly aware of just how loud I had been mourning, and, consequently, of the fearful silence that followed- but I did not move. I was not frozen in fear, at least not completely, more I was complacent; maybe someone had heard me, and I was going to die here. In a way, I deserved to. Perhaps dying the same way my friends, my found family, had would honor them, perhaps it would free me.

So I stayed. I stayed right where I was, amongst the remains of my community and embracing the body, only turning my head up to look in the direction of the sound, to see my assailant and face them head-on, if only for a moment. I dared not stand nor speak, I just patiently awaited in trepidation whatever fate it'd be to befall me.

It was quiet again for a moment as I stared into the shadowed flora, but then, not only could I hear the crackling of leaves on the forest floor, I could see someone, something, moving towards me. I drew in a sharp, panicked breath despite myself and held it as I watched the cloaked figure step into the clearing and catch sight of me.

I could feel my breath hitch yet again as I made eye contact with what seemed to be a child, at least no older than me, donning the crown of my god, and... not just a child- at that, a lamb?

I knew my face betrayed me; I was never known for my poker face, and despite my position, now was no different. I could not hide my confusion, for it had been years since anyone had seen a lamb. I thought- as we all did- that the Bishops had caused their extinction. The lamb's eyes were dark, stoic- nearly expressionless, if not for the silent and subtle shock at the sight before them; had it been any darker, I would not have noticed. I stared back with exceptional surprise but equal intensity. I did not ask.

Neither did they.

"What is your name?" They spoke softly, their hooves visibly unarmed and reaching towards me in, be it genuine or not, seeming good manner, the bell clasped to their cloak jingling quietly with every step.

"What are you going to do with me?" I diverted; they were a lamb, a living lamb, likely the last of their kind- and better yet, their crown… not to mention that they held no weapon that I could see- but even so, after everything I had gone through, and they as well, I could not be certain of their intentions. It was not in my favor to let down my guard, not with such ease.

They blinked slowly, taking another step my way. "Be not afraid, I mean well. Did he," Their smile faltered, no gesture necessary. "do this?"

"...If you mean Leshy, then I suppose. At least, his following. I," I felt my brow furrow as I forced myself to speak through gritted teeth. "was not here to see."

"Ah."

"You didn't answer my question." My voice cracked; for my tears earlier, I could hardly speak. It was only then I realized that I had never let go of the body- and with this realization, instinctively, I pulled it closer to me.

"Nor did you answer mine."

A beat.

"Your name?"

"Oh. My name is..." My hesitance was not to save face, nor to deceive- I could give a false name to “protect” myself and hide my identity, but if this lamb were to kill me, pretending would do nothing to lengthen my life, it couldn't truly protect me- rather, I was weighing my options, deciding my fate in the only way I knew I could. To continue as I had, or-

I looked down at the doe clasped to my breast: her eyes, lifeless, and lips slightly parted by her final breath. “Fern. My name is Fern," I decided, to honor her, not a lie now that it'd been spoken, but not the truth. If they meant what they said, that they were not here to hurt me, maybe, just maybe, this would be my chance to start anew. I did not turn my head to the lamb again; I let my eyes flutter shut and my head hang low, loosening my grip on the carcass to hold her face in my claws.

“...And yours?"

I could barely choke the last two words out.

"Fern… a pretty name!" Their smile, so mellow, in stark contrast to the death around us, struck me- I could not decide whether it was comforting or off putting in the moment. Again, they reached out their hand. "You may call me Lamb.”

This time I did look up; I watched them cautiously, my eyes shifting from their outstretched hoof, which I still refused to take, to their face.

‘Just… “Lamb”?’ I thought to myself, but said nothing. The question, I decided, was one likely better left unspoken.

“Okay, Lamb- your turn.” I interjected, changing the subject, or at least trying to, for what time now I had lost count. “What do you plan to do with me? Why spare me and not just kill me already?”

“No one deserves to meet a violent end. You deserve to have a choice in the matter; I can't, however, deny having an ulterior motive,” their smile never faltered as my eyes burned a hole through their own. “Would you rather me kill you, or to run away and hide before I have the chance? Or rather, the most forgiving of your options, would you like-” they adjourned, their eyes glinting wildly, still holding contact with my own. “to join me?”

“...Join… you?”

“It isn't safe in Darkwood- though I needn't tell you that- and it isn't much safer in any other of the Bishops’ domains. I can offer you shelter; for a price, of course, but a small one. All I ask for is your loyalty, and your devotion- to me, and to my god.”

“You're asking me… to join your religion?”

“Offering, yes. I won't force you. It is your decision, after all- granted, it is the safest, and in my… qualified opinion, smartest choice of the three.”

“And if I decline?” A face on my behalf, more out of curiosity than defiance.

“Again, I won't force you. But would you truly rather die, or spend your life running, only to lose it to one of them in the end, than to stand by my side? A side you should, in theory, have no hard time taking?”

Any argument I could have made, not that I had one nor any intention of refusing (because what choice did I really have?), was instantly, with ease, brought to a screeching halt. Their honesty, their sharp words and rightful, righteous confidence shook me thoroughly, to my very core; that last statement, a confirmation of my only suspicion. They didn't ask, but they knew. I said nothing, but they knew, and when the realization of their admittance donned on my features, they were more than aware that I knew, too. It was like telepathy, a secret passed silently between us, fate drawing me in.

“I am tired of running.”

“Then? I’m giving you an opportunity you can't possibly refuse.” Their expression darkened, their smile, different now- more serious, more grave; the weight of my situation coming back to me once more, and hitting me like a freight train. “Take my hand and join me, join my cult. You will be safe in the commune, and you can take your life back into your own hands.”

And with this- I looked again from their hoof to their twisted smile and somehow, despite the ominous air about them, emanating from the red crown atop their head, I knew that I’d be safe, or safest, with them- I, reluctant to let go and with a final embrace, laid the doe down in a patch of softer looking grass, and took the Lamb's hand.

[mintedwitcher]

I just had two transphobes attempt to insult and degrade me by calling me a tranny, because I said I wasn't going to stop referring to cis people as cis. Then they got absurdly angry that I didn't react in the way they wanted when they called me a tranny. Because I've been calling myself that, proudly, for years now. I've reclaimed that term for myself, because fuck yeah I am a tranny. I think it's a funny term and I like it for myself. And these transphobes lost their goddamn minds because I didn't react the way they wanted me to.

See, this is what exposes them, though. They compared being called 'cis', a scientifically accurate term describing their relationship to their gender, to a transphobic slur, implying with that comparison that the terms were of equal moral value and impact. They're so mad about being called 'cis', because they see 'trans' as an insult, and therefore assume 'cis' is an insult. Their worst fear in this world is being assumed to be trans, or being called trans, or even being accused of being supportive or accepting of trans people. Because they see trans existence as inherently subhuman.

They don't even try to cover that up. They demand we use terms like 'normal' or 'biological' when talking about cis people, implying once again that being trans is subhuman. They cannot stand the thought that they could need to be classified in the same way that we classify transness.

This is also, btw, why their arguments and their composure absolutely shatters when you compare the terms 'cis' and 'trans' to terms like 'tall' or 'short' or 'blonde'. Because 'cis' and 'trans' are adjectives, they're descriptors, that's all they are. They're a way to classify groups of people into mostly accurate categories to make discussions simpler.

If I wanted to give a lecture about the commonality of blonde hair, for example, I would be wasting time and breath by trying to describe blondeness without using the word blonde, and I'd most likely end up accidentally excluding some types of blonde hair while accidentally including some types of hair that would be better suited under the 'redhead' or 'brunette' categories. The same can be said for discussions of gender and sex, which is the only context where these terms are actually widely used.

If I wanted to talk about cis women, I would say cis women. Because that includes all women who were born female and still identify as women now. If I wanted to talk about all women, cis and trans together, I'd simply say women. Likewise, for discussions involving only trans women, I would say trans women. Notice how in none of these circumstances anyone is being incorrectly categorised. Discussions of cis women stay about cis women, discussions of trans women stay about trans women. Discussions about women stay about women.

Categories are helpful. Adjectives are helpful. No one is hurting you or excluding you by calling you cis, unless you're not cis.

And really if you have this much of a visceral reaction to being called cisgender, maybe it's time you do some self-reflection, because you might not be cisgender.