#reproductive abuse cw

[firstcurse]

Eleven and Henry Lab scenes analysis / headcanons.

So  this  is  a  repost  of  an  analysis  I  wrote  quite  a  while  back  on  the  scenes  of  Henry  and  Eleven  in  the  lab  since  the  current  fanon  take  on  that  is  that  Henry  tricked  and  manipulated  Eleven  into  removing  the  chip  from  his  neck  so  he  could  commit  the  massacre.  Which  I  personally  will  always  find  strange  because  the  canon  shows  something  completely  different  in  my  opinion  in  regards  to  what  Henry's  "intentions"  with  helping  Eleven  actually  were.  My  response  was  to  an  Anon  I  got  about  the  subject.  

AS  A  NOTE  and  as  TW  for  SA  /  reproductive  abuse  /  child  abuse  etc  because  we  were  also  discussing  the  concept  of  Henry  possibly  being  Eleven's  biological  father  amidst  this.  Although  my  personal  take  on  it  will  always  be  that  I  don't  believe  Henry  had  "relations"  with  Terry,  if  Henry  is  Eleven's  actual  father  it  was  artificial  insemination  on  the  behalf  of  the  lab  against  the  knowledge  of  both  Terry  and  Henry  which  is  why  Henry  is  oblivious  and  Terry  assumes  her  boyfriend  who  had  left  to  fight  in  the  Vietnam  war  was  the  father.  

That  would  not  surprise  me  honestly.  It  wouldn’t  be  something  I’d  put  past  the  canon.  Its  very  skin-crawlie  honestly  but  I  think  people  are  getting  "bad  vibes"  from  the  lab  and  the  possible  experiments  there  for  a  reason, like there was def a lot of rights violating going on with the lab  and  I  just  don't  think  that  anything  like  that  would  be  outside  of  the  canon  surrounding  the  Lab  and  Brenner's  associates.  Particularly  because  Henry  implies  that  a  lot  of  the  people  work  at  the  lab  for  bad  reasons.  

There  is  a  heavy  suggestion  they're  present  /  former  criminals  or  people  with  bad  things  in  their  pasts  that  are  being  exploited.  And  that  would  make  sense  given  it  would  take  a  "special"  kind  of  person  to  work  at  the  lab, not  to  mention  the  scientists  obviously  have  to  be  the  type  to  view  the  subjects  as  subhuman  in  order  to  treat  them  in  any  type  of  way,  the  lab  would  be  a  playground  for  psychopathic  personalities  and  we  know  Brenner  was  pretty  fitting  to  that, and we also know MK Ultra was the basis of this and we know where MK Ultra was hijacked from,  which  is  why  thats  my  headcanon  on  that.

( Note,  I  also  just  want  to  say  I  personally  do  not  HC  that  Brenner  assaulted  terry  personally  but  he  obviously  had  no  problem  using  her  for  his  experiments  and  then  discarding  her  after  literally  stealing  her  new  born  daughter  fresh  out  of  her  womb  so  you  know. I  may  not  HC  Brenner  as  a  r*pist  in  the  personal  sense,  but  he  def  seems  to  think  science  comes  before  human  lives  and  rights,  and  will  use,  exploit  and  abuse  human  bodies  and  minds  however  he  sees ��fit  and  i  cant  /  wont  deny  canon  with  that. The  worst  part  is  he's  absolutely  the  type  who  is  out  here  thinking  hes  the  one  making  the  "difficult  choices"  and  the  "sacrifices"  for  science  /  the  greater  good,  like  bruh.  Fuckin'  Shou  Tucker  ass  man  this  one. )

But  anyway,  I   think  what  makes  it  most   believable  to  me  is  Eleven’s  powers.  Like,  as  far  as  canon  goes  it  seems  Eleven’s  powers  are  “explained”  by  Terry’s  participation  in  the  experimentation  from  Brenner - but  since  Eleven’s  powers  seem  to  be  so  much  stronger  and  I  suppose  "more  natural"  than  some  of  the  other  subjects  it  would  also  make  sense  if  they  weren't  actually  “artificially”  induced  as  is  apparently  the  case  with  a  lot  of  the  other  subjects.  Like  there  is  no  reason  for  Eleven’s  potential  to  have  been  so  great,  "equal"  to Henry’s,  if  they  were  artificially  induced  just  like  what  seems  to  be  the  case  with  the  other  subjects  who  were  very  much  shown  as  “inferior”  to  Henry  and  Eleven  power / potential  wise.  She  wouldn’t  be  a  stand-out  as  she  was,  or  thats  how  it  feels  anyway.  It  feels  like  there  should  be  a  “reason”  for  why  Henry  and Eleven  stand  apart  from  the  others. 

As  for  Henry,  I’m  not  sure  I  understand  father-ness  the  same  way  as  others  if  that's  the  case.  A  father  can  be  a  lot  of  things  and to  be  fair  if  we  define  a  father  as  an  older  person  who  teaches,  protects  and  cares  about  someone  else  then  Henry  actually  did  hit  those  marks  to  me.  He  wouldn’t  have  known  it  and  I  don’t  think  Eleven  ever  actually  being  his  daughter  crossed  his  mind  once,  but  he  did  empathize  with  her  deeply  as  a  child  who  he  could  see  himself  in  more  than  many  others.  I  guess  it  really  comes  down  to  whether  or  not  you  believe  Henry  was  just  trying  to  manipulate  her.  I  personally  don’t  believe  he  was  and  as  far  as  canon  goes,  I  think  it  makes  more  sense  that  he  wasn’t  -  or  at  least  his  moments  of  manipulation  were  not  as  self  serving  as  people  think.

 I  think  there's  a  lot  of  evidence  for  this  but  particularly  here  are  some  key  moments  for  me:  when  we  see  Henry  is  “punished”  for  stepping  in  and  trying  to  help  Eleven,  Henry’s  reaction  to  the  punishment  of  Two,  Henry’s  reaction  to  Eleven  offering  to  help  him  in  return  and  the  scenes  with  Eleven  and  Brenner  in  “Papa.”   Like,  for  me,  there  had  to  be  a  trigger  for  Henry  suddenly  escalating  in  his  efforts  to  help  Eleven.  If  you  think  about  it  he’s  been  there  for  twenty  years,  he’s  presumably  had  casual  contact  with  Eleven  for  about  nine  of  them  ( her  whole  life )  and  while  he  might  have  always  felt  a  sense  of  kinship  with  her  he  only  started  going  out  of  his  way  to  help  her  to  the  point  of  risking  his  own  safety  at  a  specific  point  in  time.  Henry  claims  the  trigger  was  that  he  over-heard  Brenner  and  his  associates  planning  to  “allow”  the  other  children  to  attack  Eleven  and  potentially  kill  her.  Whether  this  was  because  Brenner  saw  potential  in  Eleven  during  their  1  on  1  sessions  or  because  he  thought  she  was  falling  behind  isn’t  clear,  it  could  have  been  either.  But  we  see  this  did  actually  happen  so  Henry  can't  have  actually  been  lying  about  this.  Its  also  noted  the  cameras  were  mysteriously  turned  off  during  the  time  Eleven  was  being  attacked. 

( My  personal  take  on  this,  FOR  NOW,  until  canon  gives  us  more  on  this,  if  that  does  happen  at  all,  is  that  Brenner  was  actively  trying  to  create  an  immense  power serge  and  he  was  using  Eleven,  Two  and  a  few  of  the  other  more  "promising"  test  subjects  to  do  it.  In  my  takeaway  from  canon  Brenner  didn't  care  about  the  children  like  he  pretended,  perhaps  he  had  his  favrioutes,  but  I  don't  believe  Eleven  really  became  one  of  them  until  she  showed  her  potential  and  even  then  I  don't  believe  Brenner  became  interested  in  her  outside  of  using  and  possibly  sacrificing  her  to  achieve  his  grander  goal  until  he  lost  Henry  and  the  other  children. 

So  basically  in  season  1  it  was  explained  that  if  another  dimension  exists a  massive  power serge  would  be  needed  in  order  to  "open"  a  portal  to  that  world. Once  again,  I  believe  Brenner  knew  about  the  Upside  Down  and  he  knew  such  a  "power serge"  was  needed  to  "open"  this  other  dimension. He  also  knew  the  type  of  power serge  that  was  needed  could  be  achieved  through  the  psychics  and  their  powers  as  I  headcanon  he  learned  all  this  through  experiments  particularly  on  Henry  in  his  boyhood.  We  are  explained /  shown  a  similar  thing  with  the  Soviets  in  season  3.  They  were  using  a  crazy ass  machine  to  create  a  power surge  strong  enough  to  chip  away  at  and  eventually  re-open  the  gate  to  the  Upside  Down.  This  should  also  put  into  perspective  the  kind  of  terrifying  power  Henry  and  some  of  the  other  subjects  were  capable  of. 

So  yeah,  anyway,  as  far  as  my  headcanon  goes  right  now  Brenner  was  planning  on  pitting  Eleven  against  Two  in  the  hopes  of  them  causing  a  power serge  great  enough  to  open  the  Upside  Down  for  him.  In  my  opinion,  at  this  point,  he  viewed  Eleven  as  disposable  and  Two  as something he wouldn't cry too much about because  even  though  Two  was  very  powerful  Brenner  didn't  seem  to  like  the  guy  that  much  and  ultimately,  in  my  headcanon,  the  only  one  of  the  numbers  Brenner  truly  placed  value  on  was  Henry,  hence  why  even  after  Brenner  took  away  Henry's  powers  he  refused  to  let  Henry  go.  He  has  a  very  creepy  obsession  with  Henry,  honestly,  but  YEAH. )  Side  note,  I  also  think  the  cameras  being  off  had  to  do  with  Henry’s  own  assault.  He  was  taken  into  one  of  the  test  rooms  and  had  the  hell  beat  out  of  him  while  Brenner  watched.  Why ?  What  where  they  doing  that  for,  it  couldn’t  have  been  ethical  or  something  you  want  to  record  for  everyone  to  see  and  we  do  know  Brenner  messed  with  the  tapes  and  removed  footage  which  seems  to  further  incriminate  him  in  this  and  bring  more  truth  to  Henry's  words. 

So  what  did  Henry  say  or  do  that  made  Brenner  decide  he  needed  a  pummeling ?  Obviously  he  interfered  in  a  way  Brenner  didn’t  like.  He  might  have  even  spoke  against  Brenner’s  plan  to  let  the  other  subjects  ambush  Eleven  or,  as  is  the  case  in  my  canon,  they  were  beating  him  so  he  couldn’t  intervene  which  adds  up.  Like  while  Henry  was  going  through  this,  Eleven  suddenly  gets  jumped  by  the  other  test  subjects  who  were  let  out  of  their  rooms  for  some  reason.  Henry  can’t  be  lying  because  all  of  that  is  suspicious  and  wrong  on  so  many  levels,  and  we  know  Henry  was  occupied  at  the  time  the  other  test  subjects  were  mysteriously  freed  from  their  rooms  and  the  cameras  were  shut  off.  It  adds  up  completely  with  what  he  says  about  Brenner's  plan  to  harm  Eleven.

 Eleven  didn’t  fight  back  and  survived  the  initial  attack,  and  Brenner  “punished”  Two,  further  exasperating  Two’s  hate  for  and  competition  with  Eleven  which  could  easily  escalate  things  further.  Henry  mentions  Brenner  was  manipulating  the  other  subjects  so  its  likely  Two  was  receiving  signals  to  encourage  him  to  hurt  Eleven  outside  of  just  being  shown  up  by  her.  I  completely  believe  Eleven  was  at  risk  of  being  attacked  again  and  possibly  killed.  We  have  a  moment  when  Brenner  approaches  Eleven  and  goads  her  over  the  other  children  laughing  at  her  and  mocking  her.  Who  is  to  say  Brenner  wasn't  whispering  similar  things  in  Two's  ear  to  make  him  angry  and  make  him  think  he  had  to  hurt  Eleven.  Henry seemed to literally be trying to help Eleven master her powers entirely to protect her from this.

The  canon  seems  to  show  that  Henry  tried  to  guide  her  toward  success / protect her  because  he  empathized  with  her  as  a  lonely  child  who  was  mocked  and isolated  from  others  which  we  saw.  He  straight  up  tells  her  she  reminds  him  of  himself.  We  know  Eleven  is  mostly  on  her  own.  She’s  shy  and  she  lacks  confidence.  The  other  children  make  fun  of  her.  We  saw  all  that  so  this  isn't  some  kind  of  misinterpretation  by  Henry. 

Henry  empathized  with  this  and  wanted  to  help  her  with  her  powers  but  he  realized  this  was  a  mistake  because  Brenner  saw  the  test  subjects  as  lab-rats  first  and  humans  never.  No  one  was  exempt  to  this,  no  matter  how  talented  they  were.  Showing  talent  didn’t  mean  safety, especially not from Brenner  and  Brenner  makes  a  point  of  emphasizing  this  in  the  scene  where  he  “punishes”  Two.  

You  can  see  Henry’s  reaction  to  this  is  one  of  fear,  discomfort  and concern.  This  resonates  badly  with  Henry,  probably  for  a  lot  of  reasons  but  we  def  get  to  see  that  reaction  out  of  him  for  a  reason.  It  backs  up  a  lot  of  things,  particularly  what  he  said  about  wanting  to  help  Eleven  but  only  making  it  worse  and  his  guilt /  remorse  for  that,  hence  why  he  seems  to  have  escalated  his  efforts  to  rescue  / protect her. In  the  test  scenes  previous  to  this  we  did  see  Henry  helping  Eleven  in  a  friendly  way  and  if  you  pay  attention  to  Brenner  whenever  he  is  in  the  room  with  Henry,  Brenner  is  noticing  Henry’s  “friendship”  with  Eleven  as  well.  He  does  not  seem  to  take  too  kindly  to  it  either  and  as  a  result  he  starts  taking  an  interest  in  Eleven  himself. 

So  to  me  this  means  Henry  tried  to  help  Eleven  show  her  powers  in  a  way  that  wouldn't  harm  her and help protect her from Two  but  instead  of  this  satisfying  Brenner  like  Henry  hoped  it  only  furthered  Brenner's  interest  in  Eleven  and  the  ways  in  which  he  could  use  her  powers  for  his  own  means. This  doesn’t  seem  off  to  me  with  all  of  Brenner’s  other  behaviors  and the  characters  general  MO.  

The  facts  that  I  can  see  is  that  Henry  literally  risked  his  life  and wellbeing  to  help  Eleven.  He  escalated  from  just  reassuring  her  and giving  her  tips  and  standing  up  for  her,  to  full-blown  trying  to  break  her  out  of  the  facility  and  this  was  all  directly  related  to  the  way  Brenner  was  treating  her  and  the  danger  she  seemed  to  actually  be  in.   Which  are  the  other  key  parts  in  figuring  out  whether  Henry  was  always  just  manipulating  her  or  he  was  genuinely  trying  to  save  her  like  he  says,  imo.  I  mean  aside  from  Henry’s  own  reaction  of  hurt  and confusion  when  Eleven  accuses  him  of  tricking  her, which  I  think  is  also  something  to  consider  and  that  seems  to  be  overlooked  to  me.  Like  why  did  he  react  with  such  hurt / confusion  if  he’s  an  emotionless  monster  who  planned  all  of  that ?  Wouldn’t  his  reaction  to  this  accusation  be  more  of  a  “lol  u  got  me”  instead  if  that  were  the  case ? 

Henry  literally  takes  Eleven  to  a  place  she  could  escape  and  sends  her  on  her  way.  He  doesn’t  try  to  stop  her,  he  reassures  her  that  she  would  be  okay  and  not  to  be  afraid.  If  Eleven  never  offered  to  help  him  return  what  would  he  have  done ?  Stopped  her  and  told  her  not  to  go ?  Literally  all  Eleven  had  to  do  was  say  “thanks”  and  crawl  into  the  tunnel  as  Henry  instructed.  That  seems  to  be  a  huge  gamble  to  take  if  this  was  all  a  super  carefully  planned  manipulation  and  all  he  planned  to  do  was  use  her  to  facilitate  his  own  escape. Eleven  has  a  good  heart  and  she  assumed  Henry  had  to  leave  with  her  because  he  was  in  extreme  danger  himself,  which  is  the  other  thing.

 Henry  had  no  way  to  know  Eleven  saw  him  being  tortured  which  is  what  ultimately  swayed  her  decision  to  help  him  back  and  he  doesn’t  make  it  about  him. Consistently  its  always  about  helping  her,  its  Eleven’s  idea  based  on  what  she  saw  to  help  him  in  return,  something  Henry  didn’t  know  about  until  AFTER he  had  already  put  HER  escape  plan  in  motion. and  of  course  he  takes  her  offer  to  help  him  because  why  wouldn’t  he ?  Theres  no  reason  he  wouldn’t  jump  at  the  offer  when  given  to  him  just  like  there's  also  no  way  he  would  know  how  she  would  react.   

Like  I  said  all  she  had  to  do  was  say  thanks  and  crawl  into  the  tunnel,  its  an  insane  and  illogical gamble  to  take  if  it  was  all  just  for  his  own  means  imo.  Further,  his  reaction  to  the  offer  came  off  to  me  as  one  of  surprise  but  also  an  extreme  giddy  sense  of  elation  to  finally  be  presented  with  a  way  out  of  that  nightmare  for  himself.  Something  I  really  think  he  had  probably  given  up  hope  of  until  that  moment.  (  * I  just  want  to  say  since I wrote this the  script  has  since  confirmed  this  is  true.  The  script  described  Henry  as  surprised  and  moved  by  Eleven's  offer  to  help  him  back.  Which  kind  of  proves  he  can't  have  planned  for  Eleven  to  help  him  or  else  his  reaction  /  feeling  would  be  different. )  For  me,  almost  every  single  thing  Henry  said  to  Eleven  rings  true.  From  his  monologue  about  how  she  was  nothing  but  a  animal  to  Brenner  and  that  he  had  saved  her  by  doing  what  he  did,  to  him  telling  her  he  was  glad  she  was  born  and  that  he  believes  in  her.  It  really  seems  to  me  that  everything  Henry  did  he  did  to  help  her  just  like  he  said.  

Any  manipulations  in  Henry’s  actions  seems  quite  minor  and  well  meaning  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things.  And  I  think  the  only  manipulation  /  trick  I  can  actually  see  from  Henry  is  the  fact  he  told  her  to  wait  in  the  store  room  while  he  found  a  way  out  when  he  didnt  just  do  that.  Honestly,  in  a  lot  of  ways  Henry  parallels  Brenner.  They  are  extremely  similar  in  their  behaviors  but  I  think  Henry  becomes  an  inverted  parallel  of  Brenner  as  a  twist  here  due  to  his  intentions  being  much  more  genuine  and benevolent  than  Brenner's  actually  were.  

And  I  think  the  scenes  in  the  ep  “Papa”  emphasize  this.  Initially,  Eleven  believes  Henry  is  the  monster.  She  was  so  young  and at  the  time  of  their  confrontation,  Brenner  and  the  other  test  subjects  were  the  only  family  she  knew.  She  rejected  the  truth  Henry  told  her  about  Brenner  not  really  caring  about  her  but  in  every  experience  she’s  had  since  then  she  starts  to  realize  maybe  this  was  true  even  if  she  doesn’t  want  to  at  first.

 In  the  episode  she  initially  accuses  Henry  of  being  the  monster,  she’s  even  angry  and  confused  as  to  why  Brenner  would  allow  someone  like  Henry  to  be  around  the  children  in  the  first  place,  but  throughout  the  ep  this  thought  process  breaks  down  and  she  begins  to  see  through  all  Brenner’s  gaslighting  and  lies  and excuses,  and starts  to  believe  that  no,  Henry  wasn’t  “the  monster,” and she wasn't the monster  at  all,  Brenner  was.  Brenner  was  the  only  “monster”.  Henry  was  ultimately  right  about  everything  like  it  or  not.  And  Eleven  directly  tells  Henry  that  he  isn't  the  monster  in  the  piggyback  episode.  The  big  tragedy  is  this  realization  and  validation  has  come  far  too  late  to  reach  Henry  now  because  overall  Henry’s  now  a  supernatural  terror  whose  on  an  absolute  mission  and Eleven’s  still  a  confused  child  who  has  stepped  up  from  being  a  lab-rat  to  a  super-hero  and it  turns  out  that's  not  the  upgrade  everyone  wants  to  think  it  is.  And  yeah.  Thats  my  analysis  on  that  thanks  for  reading  sjfkdkfd. 

[midcenturypartum]

what happened with evinrude’s other partners? how did he and Miriam get to know each other? Thank you for the wonderful art.

Thank you for the interest and kind words! sorry for the late reply haha I ended up with a long answer dumping quite a bit of lore and got a bit sheepish. Initially I didn’t have plans to pair them with each other, it’s just one of those cases when you have two characters and are like hmm what if?

To start Evinrude and Mariam met because Mariam is a doula! she was originally a masseuse who began training due to the compassion she felt for pregnant clients, and a desire to provide them with care beyond prenatal massage, particularly those who struggle finding someone who will advocate for their reproductive rights.

She has no medical training of course, but she’s excellent at providing new parents with platonic love and support and often sticks with them for 2 weeks postpartum. Evinrude was her client for his first 4 children.

more about Evinrude's past partners under the cut but tw for death and reproductive abuse

Evinrude’s children have 3 different non-gestational parents. He was in a throuple with 2 loving spouses for most of his 20s. When they were ready to have children Anita was born, conceived with Gail, then Henry, Eleanor, and Theo, conceived with Thomasin. They worked and met at a textile & shoe manufacturer owned by Gail’s parents, where Evinrude learned his trade, and they had a collective goal of opening a small independent tailor & shoemaker workshop, despite Gail’s parents often interfering out of their desire to pass their business to him.

Gail and Thomasin are passed. They died due to a fire that broke out at the factory, caught up in rapid flames that spread through the highly flammable fabrics they worked with. Evinrude, primarily working with high flashpoint materials common in shoemaking, managed to get out in time.

Gail’s parents never approved of their only son’s queer-poly relationship, and not having any more heirs after his passing went after Anita, trying pretty ruthlessly to paint Evinrude as an “unfit parent incapable of providing for 4 children on his own.” This ordeal lasted for 2 years, and when the stress and instability started to affect his kids Evinrude was officially at his lowest. He became distant from everyone he knew when Gail and Thomasin were alive, including Mariam, and jumped too quickly into a new relationship with his attorney Oleander.

His initial attraction was due to the lawyer’s commitment to the case, as Oleander managed to bankrupt Anita’s grandparents with countersuits by not only Evinrude but several employees/families effected by the fire, with evidence that the disaster was preventable, forcing them to drop the custody suit.

Their attraction to each other was very strong during the case and they got married on a whim, but cracks began to show quickly. They were very different people with irreconcilable differences and did not get along. However Oleander, while indifferent, was at the very least not ugly to Evinrude’s kids so he stayed for the stability it brought to their lives. Violet and Carol were conceived with Oleander.

He had zero plans to have children with Oleander and had been very explicit with him about this before they married, so Violet was his first surprise/unplanned pregnancy. However, her birth helped ease some of the tension in their relationship, and things looked very hopeful.

When the novelty of a new baby seemed to wear off of Oleander, they both agreed (i.e. he convinced Evinrude) to have another under the false implications it would “fix” the marriage again, but their arguments merely escalated.

It was during one of these arguments that it’s revealed Violet’s conception was not an accident, and that Oleander had sabotaged Evinrude’s birth control. Evinrude began making plans to leave.

Since the ordeal with Anita the fear of his children being taken from him was and is always on his mind, so the day he left he had Oleander sign a document relinquishing parental rights to Violet and soon-to-be Carol, blackmailing him with information that Oleander had been embezzling money from his clients for years.

Evinrude is very proud, and struggles to ask for help. He reconnected with Mariam mostly to apologize for becoming distant with her. Mariam, thankfully, is an emotionally intelligent person, informing him that she was expecting a baby of her own and making him a deal where they help and support each other as single parents. Him and his kids ended up never leaving.

i hope to flesh them and their relationship out more as i continue to entertain them as a couple, i'm leaning towards something more queer-platonic as Mariam was originally created as a way to explore an ace/aroace person who chooses to have a baby. if you made it this far thank you for reading ;o;

[merriemarvels]

If the world was just, if fate was kind, Clarice would have died in the raid on her home. Or maybe she'd have been born in a world where Apocalypse never existed, or never awoke, or was defeated before he could close his iron fist around the throat of every living being on the planet --

Instead, Clarice Ferguson had the unique misfortune of being born in this time, in this reality… and a direct descendant of one En Sabah Nur, one of Clan Akkaba. Not that she could ever have known, her parents certainly never knew they were carriers of the X-gene until their daughter was born pink. And worse -- that genetic heritage did nothing to help, when she was deemed weak, and tossed into the pens.

She became the favorite plaything of the madmen of the regime -- the bloodthirsty Dark Beast, and the twisted, perverted Sugar Man. Each had their ideas of what they could learn from her…

The Beast simply wanted to know how she worked… Testing her endurance, her strength, stress-testing her to induce further whatever potential her genetic heritage held…

but the Sugar Man had ideas, plans for her legacy. He was a geneticist, after all, and any geneticist had need of material…

Clarice has a number of surgical scars in her pubic region, mostly below the rise of the pubic bone (just above the top of where one's pubic hair starts) from having her eggs harvested several times after reaching puberty. A great fear of hers, come adulthood, is that the Sugar Man's tampering has left her infertile -- she doesn't even know if she still has her ovaries at all, all she knew was he was taking something that had to do with her ability to have children.

It's part of why she isn't particularly careful with sexual partners.

[cartoonscientist]

I’m sorry but there’s something so funny in a Blackadder/SNL way about the fact that one of doctors who revolutionized the practice of gynecology was secretly a trans man

“my god! who would have thought that it isn’t best practice to simply pry open the vagina with a mechanical vice and jimmy the babe free with a household crowbar! this man must have some supernatural insight into the arcane crypts of the female body heretofore unknown in the superior sex!”

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

I’m the anon with the abortion discussion ask—I do want to add the reason I’m challenging my old biases is because I was raised with my mom telling me that if I got an abortion then I was basically murdering a baby. She is abusive, so I’m not shocked she told a ten year old that (especially since she used the fact that people supposedly told her to abort me bc I made her ill). So yeah. Old biases suck and I was neutral in a “I’ll protect it bc it doesn’t affect me” way, since I won’t have kids

Ahh yeah, I understand where you're coming from, Anon. And yeah being ace can sometimes push us more into 'well this issue doesn't affect me personally.' But it is a good idea to break out of that bubble and expand our world view. But also be careful you're not opening up old traumas, and that you're taking care of your own mental health.

I would still recommend reading up on the issue in a way that's looking to understand it rather than just trying to form an opinion right away. The more informed you are, the more nuanced your view will usually be. Even if you just want to read through a Wikipedia page or two, or check through a list of myths people have put together (though again check it's from a reliable source and don't be afraid to fact check) can be a good start in understanding an issue better.

Reproductive rights are a particularly complicated topic. There's a lot of different aspects. For example I know a large chunk of my position as being pro-choice comes from reading up on medical ethics around bodily autonomy (for example how a person can refuse to donate blood or their organs when they die). I'm a big believer in respecting whatever choice people make with their own bodies. I have other reasons but that's one of the big ones. Other people have other reasons for taking the position they do, even when it's the same position I have.

Don't feel like you have to have all the answers right away either, or have to spend ages searching and researching. But taking some time out to look into something in more depth, and trying to be thoughtful with how you think about things will often go a long way when it comes to more controversial debates.

And of course just do your best. Don't think you have to be perfect or always have the perfect stance or be perfectly right.

All the best, Anon! Good luck! And let me know if you have more questions.

[ashasdiary]

Ovulation

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader

Synopsis: Toji is away for work while you are ovulating — and you are suffering deeply from needingtobefuckeditis. When he returns, boy does he deliver. 

CW: horniness like you’ve never felt before, mentions of masturbation, established relationship, smut — unprotected sex, spanking, creampie, overstimulation?, anal fingering, squirting, hair pulling, dom!Toji, breeding kink (MDNI) WC: 4k A/N: oh to be Toji’s toy during ovulation… 😵‍💫

You could not think straight. Usually, the ovulation stage of your cycle would bring the to be expected egg white and some out of pocket dirty thoughts here and there, but this time? Your reproductive organs were on steroids. 

Even before your period had ended, your mind had been clouded with such downright dirty thoughts of being absolutely rawed that you worried to think what your body would be like once it actually did finish. 

And oh, were you ill-prepared. 

It hit you with full force the first morning without your period. All you could think about was sex. Of being fucked so good that you’d see god. Of your cunt being used and abused in the way that she was clearly craving so fucking badly. Of being so stuffed full of cum that it would leak out all over your legs. 

Going to work in these conditions was brutal. The work day was ordinarily not so long, but now? You were suffering. To add insult to injury, Toji was out of town for work, so you had no one to satisfy you except the sad little piece of plastic in your bedside drawer. 

You had long retired your rabbit since being with Toji, for obvious reasons, the main being that nothing and no one could ever come close to him. And you’d gotten so used to how good he would give it to you that you knew that nothing you could do with the rabbit would ever compare. 

Every time he was away, you’d have no communication until he came back, which you understood due to his line of work, but right now, you hated that fact because you wish you could at least hear his voice. Something, anything from him would help. 

So here you were, on day 2 of your ovulation phase, trying to get Megumi to sleep sooner so you could get to bed yourself. 

When he eventually did fall asleep, you darted out of his room and into yours, pulling off your clothes hastily and grabbing your current sleeping companion from the nightstand. 

While it wasn’t Toji, you managed to satiate your aching cunt for the time being. 

The next day was ever the challenge, but thankfully you had some tasks at work that required additional brain power so this distracted you briefly from the dire need to be fucked.

The constant horniness was getting tiring without Toji truly satisfying it, but you did your best to nonetheless, counting down the days until he’d come home, which — you check your watch — should be in 3 days, 2 hours, and 24 minutes. 

You decided to get creative with your methods, one such being a Pilates class. Your friend had told you, verbatim, “If you want to feel like you’ve been bent over, disrespectfully, and have your legs quaking by the end, go to a Pilates class.”

So you had decided to do just that. Megumi had a babysitter for that evening while you were at the class, so you got to fully immerse yourself into it. You did not expect it to be so difficult, having to bend your body into all these different positions and engaging your core in a way that you’d never felt before. The burn was undeniable and strangely, you did find that it helped somewhat. 

Your muscles truly ached the next day, a Friday. This helped keep the dirty thoughts and the horny feelings at bay as you winced from the muscle ache at work, but by the time you got home, your mind had clouded once again.

You had Megumi to tend to for the evening until his bedtime, so you had to keep it all at bay while you watched over the sweet boy. He was a great kid and you were grateful that he was as such. 

Finally, finally, you tuck him into bed a few hours later and make sure he’s asleep before you shut his door and head into yours like a woman on a mission. 

Day 4 of ovulation and it was probably the worst of them all. The desperation you were feeling was like you were a bitch in heat.

So, imagine the sheer anger that strikes through you when you find that your rabbit’s batteries had died and you had no spare ones to hand. Of fucking course. 

Toji is very many things. Toji is a punctual man. (Or, at least, he tells himself that. He tries to be.)

He had told you he’d be home after his mission on Sunday afternoon, and usually his missions take the whole predicted time, but this mission he’d gotten lucky with and he’d managed to finish up quicker than anticipated by Friday evening. He was happy about that; he’d be getting paid the same figure and also get to go home sooner. 

While he’s making the journey home, he wonders what he’d do with his “paid time off” as you’d call it — probably primarily family time with you and Megumi. You. He’d missed you, your voice, and your sweet body. He wouldn’t say it outright, but he was excited to see you. And so was his cock. 

Toji had expected to arrive home to a quiet, dark house since it was nighttime and you loved your beauty sleep. What he didn’t expect was to find you splayed out open on the bed, fingers knuckle deep as you pump them furiously in and out of your weeping pussy, quiet mewls falling from you as you gasp and rub quick circles on your swollen clit. 

Toji can do very many things. Arriving early to places is not one of them, you’ll note. 

Your eyes were closed and your face twisted into one of pleasure as you made do with your hands and fingers, but you opened them to watch yourself when you suddenly notice Toji stood in the doorway, raging hard on poking through his pants, and you instantly stop. 

“Toji?” You sit up quickly, unable to believe the sight before you. Were you so far gone that you’d imagined him? 

“Oh, don’t stop, baby, I was enjoying the show,” he husks, a sexy smirk on his lips as he kicks the door shut and stalks towards you. 

You kneel over to the end of the bed and let out a soft whine when he pulls off his shirt and comes to stand in front of you, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He was real. When you break apart for air, you sigh, “I can’t believe you’re home already, I was going insane without you.”

“That so?” He chuckles lowly, big hands groping the bare skin of your hips and sliding back to your ass as he connects your lips again. He can sense some urgency in the way you kiss. “Unwrapped my gift for me, huh?”

“I’m ovulating, Toji. I’ve been fucking feral. I needed you so bad this past week…I still do. I need it. I feel like I’m going to die if you don’t give it to me,” you look at him and he can see the desperation in your eyes. 

He laughs quietly, letting you open the ribbon of his pants, “Death by lack of dick. Interesting way to go.”

“I’m serious, Toji,” you responded, pulling him onto the bed with his pants at his knees. He lets them fall down the rest of the way and he kisses you again, hungrier this time. You moan into his mouth, lying back and pulling him on top of you. He hovers over you, your legs instantly wrapping around his hips. 

You feel the hot press of his heavy cock against your puffy folds, and the excitement of finally getting what you had been longing for, for this entire week gives you a rush. He grunts as he rocks his hips into yours, covering his thick cock with the copious amounts of wetness that had already accumulated at your core. The rubbing of his cock on your clit makes you mewl and you get restless, reaching down to guide him into you. 

“So needy for me, aren’t you? My perfect little wife,” he hums against your mouth and you lift your hips, pumping him with your hand once, twice, before you’re guiding him into your waiting entrance. She’d been waiting for this, waiting for him, and the pure relief that you feel of his cock filling you and stretching your walls is something heavenly. 

You let out a filthy moan when he bottoms out inside you, and he covers your mouth with his large hand, “Meg’s sleeping, sweetheart, I know you’ve been waiting for this but keep it down.”

You swallow, biting your lip and nodding before he gives you a dirty grind of his hips, his pubic bone grazing your clit. You nearly go cross eyed at the pure bliss this gives you. Truth be told, he was surprised at how easily you’d taken all of him on the first try, but he wasn’t complaining. You were snug as always, wrapped around him so perfectly like you were moulded just for him. 

He draws his hips back and you let out a gasp at the heavy feeling of his cock dragging against your plush walls. When he thrusts back into you, you feel like you might explode. You need him to fuck you senseless. 

“Faster, baby, please,” you plead, grasping onto his beefy arms, nails digging in a little. 

“I love when you beg for me,” he murmurs, lips curled into a smirk as he sucks on your neck. He rolls his hips steadily a few more times, ever the tease, but then he obliges with your request, quickening his pace. He brings his lips to yours in an open mouthed, breathy, messy kiss while he fucks you into the mattress, then leans back because he wants to watch the way you fall apart under him. 

You’re on cloud nine; there’s nothing better than the satisfaction of having a craving fulfilled, nothing better than the pleasure of Toji putting you through the mattress. You try to stifle your moans but you can’t, your face twisted in pleasure as he rams his thick, delicious cock into your needy cunt over and over again. 

It’s when he grabs your legs from your knees, pushing them up one at a time to fold you in half, that you feel the tingles of your orgasm fast approaching. He hooks his arms under your thighs and pins you to the bed that way, fucking into you rougher despite you being tighter around him now. “Ah— mm, T-Toji-!” Your hands trail up around his shoulders, nails leaving angry red tracks on his muscled back while he pistons his hips repeatedly into yours, the sound of your hips colliding echoing in the room alongside your lewd moans. 

You can feel your orgasm approaching fast and you grip onto him, gazing up at him, dazed. “Cum f’me, sweetness— hah— oh, fuck,��� he grunts, dipping his head to tease your taut nipple with the flat of his tongue. 

He loved having you in this position, he loved testing fate every time you fucked like so. It’s the combination of your carnal desire being satisfied, his mouth on your tits, the deep plunge of his cock inside you, and his direct order that sends you over the edge into the deepest depths of euphoria with a moan so dirty it sounds like a cry. The wave that overcomes your body makes you stiffen and your walls pulse so tightly that it almost becomes painful while he continues to fuck you through it. 

“That’s it, baby, f-fuck, give it to me,” Toji groans, hips stuttering as he feels his balls tighten, signalling his imminent release. He pants as he keeps thrusting, and you pull his face up to yours so that you can kiss him. Tongues tangled, his pleasure overcomes him and he buries himself deep inside you as he cums, releasing his thick ropes into your waiting cunt. 

He breathes heavily and tries to catch his breath for a moment, lips moving lazily against yours. You bask in the delicious feeling of him fucking his cum inside you. 

You’re holding onto him tightly as he releases your legs and you wrap them around his waist again, letting out a quiet mewl when you feel him slip from your confines. “Baby…wait…” 

“Remind me to go on missions while you’re ovulating,” he says, a smirk curling at his lips while he pecks kisses on your jaw, “we should do that again sometime.”

You feel up his back, a part of him you loved especially, already feeling empty and wanting more of him. “Sometime? How about… again, right now?” You suggest, and he stops for a second, looking down at you incredulously. 

“Wh—now?” He repeats and you nod, biting your bottom lip as you bring your hand to cup his face. Thumb caressing his cheek, he turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand, his eyes hooded as he feels the rush of arousal through his body once again. His cock was still hard and he grabs your face in both his hands, crashing his lips to yours in a rush of desire. You moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue past the seam of your lips and against yours. 

You push him up and this causes him to break the kiss as he sits back on his haunches and waits to see what you want to do. Precum oozes from his slit when he watches you get on all fours and rock your hips sensually for him. 

The mess between your thighs drips down them, but you don’t care. You just needed him, again. You wanted more. You wanted all of him. You arch your back, bringing your arms down so you can rest on your elbows. “I want you this way,” you tell him and he wets his lips as he kneels behind you. 

He’d never seen you be this damn needy. It was so sexy to him.  

Large hands grabbing your hips, he rests his heavy cock on the crack of your ass as he reaches around you to toy with your clit. You keen at the calculated movement of his thick fingers, absentmindedly pushing your hips back against his. “God, Toji…” you sigh contently, eager to have him inside you again. 

He can be a tease sometimes and make you beg for it, but right now, he was more than happy to entertain this. Taking his hand away from your clit, he holds onto your hip while he guides his leaking cock into your cunt. You keen at the feeling, the difference in position being felt entirely. You rest your cheek against the bed with a breathy sigh.

He feeds you inch by delicious inch of his thick cock, letting out a tsk when your walls clench around him involuntarily. He swats your ass in response and you let out a small cry, the sting of it going straight to your pussy. He finally bottoms out inside you again, and he pulses his hips, his balls teasing your throbbing clit. 

“O-oh…mmnh…” you let out incoherent sounds, gripping the bedsheets when he draws his hips back until only his tip was inside you, slamming his hips into yours with a forceful thrust. 

He begins a brutal pace, the sound of your hips slapping together even louder than before. Your eyes are screwed shut as you enjoy the feeling of being thoroughly fucked, your mouth agape while he pulls you back onto his cock. 

It’s too much, too fast, your brain can hardly keep up with the fast pace of his. He’s drawing out lewd and dirty moans of his name from you, to which he reaches up and wraps his hand around your hair, pulling on it a little. “I told you to be quiet, sweet thing.”

You bury your face into the sheets and muffle your moans while he continues to ravage your greedy cunt. He releases your hair and lets out a low growl at the sight of your pussy creaming around his dick. Toji loves your ass. It’s why he doesn’t even think about it before he’s gathering your slick and teasing your asshole with his finger. 

He’s fucking you into oblivion now, and the sensations are getting slightly overwhelming but you want to power through because you’d been needing this like you needed air. You wanted this. 

With each mean thrust of his cock against your plush walls, you edge closer and closer to another, no doubt, life changing orgasm. 

“Takin’ me so damn good, baby,” he grits out, dipping his finger into your ass as he continues his mean pace, the thump, thump, thump of his hips hitting yours like the base of a delightful melody. 

And boy, oh, boy, was he playing your body like his favourite instrument. 

It’s when he’s fully fingering your ass that it happens all at once, your orgasm hits you in an instant and a sudden rush washes over you; a pressure in your abdomen being released as you squirt all over him and the bed. You cry out, tears in your eyes from the ecstasy of it all, your legs almost giving out. 

He lets out a gasp, both from the surprise of you squirting all of a sudden, and from the sheer strength of your orgasm which had your walls gripping him so tightly that he struggled to keep his own at bay. Again. Fuck, you were addictive. “Jesus—! Fuck!” He hisses through clenched teeth. 

The mess of your squirt, your juices and your cream covered his lower abdomen and he was living for being this fucking filthy with you. He fucks into you a few more times before he starts to cum, slamming his hips into yours again and again to ride through it. His breath shudders as he slows gradually to a stop. He stays there, plugging his cum in you, and you inhale shaky breaths, eyes still closed. 

Toji can do very many things, especially with you. Fucking like rabbits was one of his favourite. 

He bows over your back, panting for breath, and you both fall onto your sides as you come down from the high. He caresses your hip, where he’d held a bruising grip on you before. You take a moment to gather yourself, and you move off of him, your puffy pussy feeling (and looking, Toji noted) truly abused by that point. You grab the glass of water you’d put on the bedside table earlier and take a long sip, rehydrating yourself. 

Toji rolls onto his back, closing his eyes, hand splayed on his abs. You let yourself shamelessly ogle his body while you drink your water; eyes raking down from his pretty face to his large torso, bulging pecs, defined abs, prominent v-line that led straight to his beautiful, big, curved, and still hard but slowly softening cock. 

You salivated at the sight of it. The tiredness in your body starts to dissipate the more you look at him. 

More, more, more. You wanted more. 

You set your glass down and crawl over to him, straddling his hips. He opens his eyes at this and gazes up at you in question. As far as he was concerned, you should have been satiated following that last round. 

He can see the glint of mischief in your eyes as you reach between you and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping it slowly. He doesn’t protest — if anyone can keep up with you it’s him — and he watches with piqued interest at how you work his cock so easily, doing all the right things that he likes. 

“We already got this messy and you wanna go again?” He inquires, and you nod lazily, thumbing over his slit and smirking to yourself when you feel it jump. Not only are you stroking his cock but you’re also stroking his ego, and he is thoroughly enjoying being the recipient of both of those things. 

It doesn’t take much before he’s rock hard again, and he’s groping your ass as you lift your hips and aligning him at your entrance, sinking down onto him in one smooth and steady motion. 

He grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he gazes up at you, your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head as you feel yourself being split apart on his thick cock for the third time that evening. 

You didn’t need much time to adjust to him so you rock your hips back and forth, feeling the base of his cock catch at your clit, making you cream around him. Toji’s groans are deep and rumble from within his chest as you take the reins, lifting your hips and sinking back down, over and over, desperately. You look so wanton as you ride him, your pretty tits bouncing in his face so he can’t help but give them the attention they deserve. 

You clench around him when you feel his mouth on you, so messy with it; open mouthed kisses, sucking, licking, damn near drooling all over your chest. 

“Christ, you’re gonna end up pregnant at this rate,” he says with a warning tone, but you only look at him with hooded eyes.

“What if that’s what I want, Toji?” You murmur, bouncing your hips faster. “What if I want you to put a baby in me?” 

“Yeah? Wanna give Gumi a sibling, huh?” He rasps, squeezing your ass tightly. 

It was at that point that you go onto autopilot, your body moving on its own accord, fucking down onto him with such carnal need that you felt like an animal. 

“Yes…yes, fuck, Toji, yes,” you ramble, feeling that you’re nearing your release. You reach back and play with his balls, squeezing them, pulling ever so gently, wanting him to cum with you. 

“I’m gonna give it all to you, pretty. Gonna give you every last fuckin’ drop,” his chest rises and falls quicker as you both get closer and closer to the edge. 

You lean forward and bounce your hips faster, filthy moans being drawn from your lips which Toji tries to quieten by crushing his lips on yours in a bruising kiss.

You both reach your peaks within seconds of one another, and you try to keep your pace to ride through it but you simply give into the rush of your orgasm and let it take hold of your body. Toji shoots his hot load into you, holding your hips tightly as you both let out breathy moans of each other’s names alongside profanity. 

Your walls greedily milk him of every drop that he has to give, and you sigh in contentment as you relax against him, sweaty but satisfied. 

Your legs had gone jelly now, the lactic acid build up was catching up to you. Many won’t know this but Toji does have an attentive side that he keeps reserved for you (and his son sometimes). You find yourself smiling when he brings his hands to your thighs and massages them gently, squeezing your muscles a little to get rid of the lactic acid burn. 

You kiss him slowly, taking your time to savour the taste of him. 

“Can we go again?” You ask with a needy tone, but you couldn’t quite hide the slight tiredness in your voice. 

“Honey, we’ve gotta pump the brakes…I’m tired as shit right now and I need— we both need to sleep,” he sighs, running a hand up over his face, pushing his hair back a little. 

You pout at him, rubbing the base of his neck and leaning in to suck a dark mark onto his skin, knowing you’d have to let up. “Tomorrow, then? Breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

“Do I look like a buffet to you?” He quips, and you dissolve into a fit of laughter. “But…fine. Since you asked so nicely.”

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

Divider by cafekitsune

[jymwahuwu]

ღ Honkai: Star Rail Master List

Penacony

WARNING: DARK CONTENT.

Aventurine

Aventurine x bakery owner! reader story

Summary: You are a bakery owner and you and your shop are going to be evicted by the IPC. Unfortunately, Aventurine is the one handling the plans.

Aventurine hypnotizes and non-con you

cw: yandere, dub-con, non-con, hypnosis, mind control, aventurine's eyes don't have such abilities in the official plot of course!!

Aventurine deceives you…

CW: yandere, scam, stalking, no official plot yet so this is OOC, this happened before he became senior manager of IPC!

Aventurine peeked into your dreams

cw: yandere, non-con (in your dream), peeking into your dream without consent, invasion of privacy

Aventurine claims he needs to check you out but ends up fingering you

CW: yandere, non-con, fingering, forced orgasm

Waking up to find you're in Penacony and being gaslighted

Aventurine and humiliated reader going on a business trip to Pentacony and Sunday offers you a new job

cw: yandere, non-con, abuse of power, humiliation, forced breeding

Sunday

Sunday has corruption kink

CW: yandere, manipulation, gaslighting, corruption kink…?

Sunday is a firm believer of no sex before forced marriage

CW: yandere, dub-con, overstimulation, penetration, nipple stimulation, gag, spanking, reader has female reproductive system

-> what if the reader got a masochist streak and came even harder from that

cw: spanking, being spanked to orgasm, (not mentioned here but) yandere

Sunday controls your thoughts during your private moments

CW: yandere, mind control, forced orgasms, masturbation, no privacy…?

You get punished after escaping

cw: non-con, forced orgasm, yandere, discipline, control

Sunday brainwashes and controls you

cw: yandere, (implied) brainwashing, manipulation, amnesia

Sunday with virginity reader

cw: yandere, manipulation, gaslighting, orgasm control, non-con, corruption kink, some inappropriate views on virginity

You reveal who your crush is to your best friend Sunday

CW: yandere, brainwashing, mind control, non-con

Hair / Wing pulling + Sunday

cw: yandere, dub-con, brainwashing, mind control, hair pulling

Sunday puts you in the miniature...

cw: HSR 2.1 spoilers, yandere, punishment, discipline

Sunday manipulates arrogant reader into submission

part 1, part 2

cw: yandere, non-con, brainwashing, mind control, housewife kink, inappropriate traditional concepts (language about serving husband and family)

Sunday + housewife kink

Waking up to find you're in Penacony and being gaslighted

Sunday asks you if you want to join The Family

Sunday + librarian reader

[crystalflygeo]

Last of her kind Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Slave!Omega!Dragoness!Reader-

cw/tags: mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics, mating bites, fingering, scenting, pet names, zhongli has a knot and alpha fangs and is not afraid to use them lmao, some nip and clit stimulation ig?? emotional roller coaster ngl.

notes: So remember a loooong time ago when I held a poll and one of the options was "dragon" and it WON?? well actually it was this, (dragon READER heh) it just got WAY out of control. 5.6k words and now I wanna make it into a whole series //head in hands// anyway ye have this weird lil funky AU I poured my sweat blood and tears into (also my heart and soul) idk why I am just so attached I love it so much plsss I have ideas fot other scenes with them already aaaaaaaaa <3

Partially inspired by some of @silentmoths' fics holy shIT I LOVE DRAGON READER AND I LOVE OMEGAVERSE NOD IF YOU AGREE!!

Last but not least if y'all wanna be part of my pinglist uhh I'm making one now so :3c

Part 2 ->

Strange yellow leaves fall around you all over the courtyard…

“Fix your clothes, you have to look appealing… well, as appealing as a creature like you can be.” The voice of your Master calls out harshly, pulling and tugging at details in your outfit. It was a flimsy and silky thing, mostly see-through, rather elegant, but very revealing.

You’re used to it.

“And stop looking so miserable! You better smile and please this Alpha. He’s not just anyone, you know?”

You nod meekly, trying to hide the slight trembling on your body. This will be just another bonding attempt. Nothing else.

It will fail. Just like all the others before.

Silver chains clink and tug the collar at your neck, it shakes you back to the present as you stumble forward.

Master guides you through a maze of corridors, with sleek surfaces of dark wood, decorative lanterns and paper screens. They’re strange, covered in even stranger symbols that look nothing like the ones back in the desert. Your bare feet, used to rough hot sand, now walk along polished wood with your draconic tail dragging behind. Everything looks so lavish…

You’ve been brought all the way to Li- Liu-… Li-yue? A foreign country, to meet a potential client. Well, a client to your Master. You are just the merchandise: a dragonblood Omega. Rare, unique even, “exotic”.

But defective.

Your fists clench in nervousness. How rough will this Alpha be with you? You dread to find the answer. Alphas were cruel, ever since you remember you’ve been taught to please, be gentle, obedient and look pretty, but they were never any of those things. Alphas just took their pleasure and used your body as they wanted, usually until you were crying and screaming, begging for mercy. You just hope this Alpha would give you some pity and be quick… or give you time to rest in between attempts.

Though you had learned since long that your wishes don’t tend to come true.

What a disappointment. After I spent so much money and resources on you.

Such a waste of time, what use is there in an Omega that can’t bond?

Why do I even bother with you? You’re just good for the reproduction camp. Maybe that way you can produce another dragonblood.

This is your last chance, mutt. If you fail again, I won’t be bothering with you anymore.

You feel anxiety creeping on your chest, heart jumping to your throat as the dark thoughts invade your mind. Last chance… your last chance at bonding. At proving you’re not useless and stupid. At serving your purpose as Omega. What was happening to you was fair. You deserve to be punished and you should be grateful you have one last chance after all your failures.

You just want to… to…

Tears prickle at your eyes and you breathe in deeply, trying to contain your distress and hugging your own tail, rubbing your face on the fluffy tip.

Whatever happens today, your fate is going to be sealed.

The nest room is nice.

Like the rest of the place, it is rather elegant, dimly lit with neutral colors and wooden walls, filled with pillows and blankets that had a very subtle flowery aroma to them. Small cabinets to one side with some decorative objects on top and a full-length mirror on the other side. So much different from the barren cold stone walls and tents from the desert camps.

“Hm, pretty fancy.” Master says taking off your collar, your soft unblemished neck now on display, free from any claim. “Now…” He pulls at your hair and you wince, whining and lowering your ears on a submissive display. He wouldn’t hurt you right? You have to look pretty. “The emperor will be here shortly. Make sure to do anything and everything he wants. And you better smile, I told you.”

“E-Emperor?” You pale, eyes widening.

He scoffs and pushes you back, you stumble back into the mess of pillows. “That’s right. I don’t know why but he was very adamant to see you it seems. Perhaps he just wants the prestige of owning the last known dragonblood, hm? Another novelty for his collection, I’m sure. You should consider yourself really lucky. So…” He flashes his Alpha fangs at you with a growl and you whimper again, cowering. “I would suggest you do your best and don’t disappoint this time, he’ll pay a pretty penny for you.”

And with that he leaves, muttering something and almost slamming the strange sliding door.

And so, you’re alone.

Immediately your brain goes into overdrive. An emperor? You had been presented to various Alphas of high status before, wealthy merchants and high-ranking tribe members, but this… this was probably a whole other level.

An emperor had to have an empress, right? Someone of noble birth and high status such as himself, not a lowly sand lizard like you, with weird ears, scales, horns and a tail. Why would he want to see an Omega like you? Perhaps Master was right, he intended to keep you as a trophy in his collection, another pretty thing.

It was humiliating.

But anything was better than being doomed to the reproduction camp…

Maybe the emperor had a harem? You’ve heard of them before, some Alphas liked to boast having many Omegas bound to them. Living in this luxury, not having to worry about much anything except looking pretty and pleasing him once a while. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t even pay attention to you, you’d be just a glorified pet.

You could… do that.

Without noticing, your tail starts swaying after you, this could be a chance. Your chance. You just had to make him like you. Forget the bond. Don’t think about it. All you have to do is please him.

You start frantically arranging the sheets and pillows around, building the comfiest nest you ever had with all the extra material, scenting it with excited happy pheromones. You could do it, this was your chance.

You won’t fail this time. You’ll be pretty, obedient, submissive, the ideal Omega. You’ll let him use you to his heart’s content, sure you may be a little sore but it’ll be worth it if he chooses you. He won’t even care about the bond.

…Right?

You jolt when you hear the door slide slightly open again, your heart leaps to your throat as someone walks in.

Oh.

Is… he the emperor? … He’s handsome.

To be fully honest, you expected some fat pompous middle-aged man not this… perfect specimen of an Alpha.

Your tail sways a little with curiosity.

He looks only slightly older than you, tall, wearing elegant robes in brown and golden hues. His eyes are like a sunset: golden, warm, almost glowing. A red liner accentuating them. Long chocolate hair faded to amber at the tips. His scent was earthy and pleasant, subtle unlike most Alpha musk. Almost comforting and… familiar?

He seems to stare back at you with the same surprise, frozen for a moment, eyes slightly wide, he says something you can’t quite hear and it shakes you out of the spell. You suddenly feel a little self-conscious, curling your tail around you, ears down and resisting the urge to brush (hide) the scales at the corners of your eyes.

It occurs to you that you’ve been just staring like an idiot, you don’t know very well how to address him, nor know his foreign tongue. So, you simply lower your head in respect. “My Lord…”

You suddenly feel nervous. This is it.

You turn around, following the motions ingrained in your brain. Body splayed on the nest, arms tucked in, head down. Submissive, obedient. Your hands are shaking, you feel dizzy, heart thrumming in your chest, blood rushing in your ears.

You lift your butt just slightly, tail curling elegantly over your back, out of the way to expose the flimsy fabric covering your privates, properly presenting to the Alpha. You focus on trying to control your pheromones, letting out just whiffs of a needy sensual scent, worried of mixing in your anxiety and fear and displeasing the emperor.

You had to be pretty, enticing, compliant, and he would, h-he would…

A rather awkward cough has you tense. “There is… no need for that.”

You blink for a moment, taken aback at the rich deep baritone of his voice, so hypnotizing you almost don’t register his words. He speaks common tongue, but still, what does he mean? Isn’t this just… standard protocol for bonding? Isn’t he going to mount you?

You dare peek over your shoulder and see him sitting elegantly over his knees at the floor. He’s outside of the nest range.

He’s also slightly pink at the cheeks and pointedly avoiding looking at you.

Is this a trap? Is he testing you to see if you’ll misbehave? Your hands clench, nails digging at your palms, your breathing and heart increasing pace.

“I just want to talk, I promise.” He tries.

You hold the position.

He sighs, and then-

“Omega, relax.”

You almost squeak at the Alpha command. His voice, his will, seeps into your skin, your nerves, your very bones. You feel your muscles loosen up, tension leaving your body like a bowstring snapping and you lie on the sheets sideways.

Right right right, you’re tense, you have to be soft and pliant-

You look over at him and he’s… heading over to the little cabinets. He picks up a kettle of some kind and little cups that sit on the top, moving around calmly and elegantly as he seems to prepare something. Your head tilts and you gingerly sit up straight. Tail and ears down, curled up not unlike a wounded animal.

“Do you speak the common tongue?”

“Y-Yes!” You nod. “A little…”

“Good.”

The emperor seems… pleasant, he is calm and unguarded, so different from the cold intimidating Alphas you’ve met who like to show off, who immediately order you around. He even used an Alpha command on you but it felt… grounding. There is something equally eerie and entrancing about him and you feel yourself as much drawn to him as terrified of his imposing aura, and you couldn’t explain why. It’s a bit unsettling but also comforting at the same time.

He pours two cups and turns to you. You stiffen and he offers you one.

“Qixing tea is one of the most refined Liyue teas. It tends to be very bitter but this blend has a more pleasant taste, a little floral even. It is also said to help relax one’s mind.”

You carefully take the cup, not wanting to insult such gracious offer, though you’re utterly confused, shouldn’t you be the one serving him?

The cup is warm.

You stare at the golden liquid, small black dots sit at the bottom. This has no alcohol… right? It can’t be worse than snake wine at least.

You carefully take a sip, trying to imitate how the emperor is holding his.

It is… nice, a strong sharp taste but not bad, and very aromatic.

He’s looking at you expectantly and your tail and ears twitch. “I-It’s very good. Thank you, my Lord.”

He smiles and your heart skips a beat. “I am glad. Some say Qixing tea is for older people, but it’s frankly one of my favorites.” He stares at his cup with a somewhat nostalgic gaze, as if it brings him fond memories. “Ah, you can address me as Morax.”

You nod quietly and take another sip. Past the tea’s powerful flowery scent, you can now sense his Alpha pheromones, with him being so close and the air less tense. They’re strong but not overwhelmingly so, sharp and tantalizing, a refined foreign scent you can almost taste in the back of your throat. It stirs something in you, something warm and alluring.

“Do you know where were you born? Who are your parents?”

The question takes you by surprise for a moment as you shake out of your thoughts. Ah, he must be inquiring about your dragonblood. “I-I’m…. I’m not sure, my Lo- um… L-Lord Morax. As far as I know my mother worked at a-a heat house… no one knew who my father was and she passed away when I was very young.”

“I see… so you have no idea where you got your dragon traits from.” It was a sentence rather than a question and you shake your head meekly, taking another sip from the tea, ears lowering back.

“Apparently it could be due to recessive genes.” You once again repeat the same words you’ve heard all your life. You hate bringing attention to your dragon features, people either treat you like a rare exotic creature or a dangerous one. You didn’t know which was worse.

“Hmmm…” Lord Morax seems pensive for a moment, also drinking some of the tea. “Have you been with your caretaker for long?”

You look down. “Master has been in charge of me ever since I… p-presented as an Omega.”

“Does he treat you well?”

Your eyes widen, the question catching you completely by surprise. T-Treat you well? You are… treated like any other slave omega, if only being singled out by your draconic traits. He feeds you, he gives you clothing and education, he arranges the best matches he can for bonding, he even got you here in the first place. You owe him everything, you’re nothing without him.

So then… Why do you find yourself thinking back on all the harsh words, all the punishments, all the screaming and crying, all the… t-touches…

You gulp. “M-Master ensures I have the best living conditions and opportunities I can.” Is what you settle for.

He hums.

There is silence for a moment and lord Morax settles down his cup.

“I don’t think you’re aware of how special you are.”

Just when you thought he couldn’t surprise you anymore, he utters those words and makes your heart speed up.

Is this anxiety? Fear?

“Judging from what your Master has told me, you’re treated like quite the novelty, an exotic half-blood not unlike the Valuka Shuna or Kätzlein. Here in Liyue however those with traits like yours are called Xiānshòu.” The foreign word rolls off his tongue. His golden eyes fix on you and you freeze. “Also known as illuminated beasts. With immense power and longevity, even the half-bloods. They’re well respected and looked up to, why, some are even revered as deities...”

You? Such a fantastic creature? That can’t be…

“Seems to me like things are different in the deserts of Sumeru, however.” His eyes narrow and for the first time you notice his diamond pupils. They look like a snake’s. The same eerie glint he had a few minutes ago is back darkening the bright golden eyes. Yet, for some strange reason you don’t feel scared this time.

A shiver travels down your spine as you feel your instincts purr in delight. Protective… for some reason lord Morax is being protective of you. You don’t know why or how but you can feel it and it made your inner Omega preen inside. An Alpha wanted to protect you, care for you.

“Such a shame.” He adds, sounding almost disappointed but there is something darker underneath. Word simmering with… frustration? “You are such a lovely dragoness, worthy of every praise and prayer they’d sign in your name here.”

You’re very glad your cup rests at your lap, blushing furiously with trembling hands.

For the next few moments, he continued to ask some more questions. What you like or dislike, what you do in your free time, even something as innocuous as your favorite color. Time seemed to stretch into infinity as you grew a little more comfortable with your answers and the whole situation, as though you weren’t talking to an emperor, or even a potential master or Alpha but rather… someone who saw you for who you are.

You liked that. You liked him.

You wanted to stay with him.

You wished to-

“Alright, I think that’s enough. I will have a talk with your Master and we’ll settle things.” He stands up and dusts his attire a little.

Your breath stops.

He is leaving.

He is leaving.

Did you do something wrong? Didn’t he say he liked your appearance? Are you such a failed disgraceful omega? Your last chance at bonding. You didn’t even get to impress him. You want to call out to him, do something, anything. Panic rises in your chest, drowning you, freezing you. You can barely think, instincts screaming, begging, wailing in despair for him. This kind Alpha, this gentle, patient, imposing, majestic Alpha who’s too good for you and yet something deep inside you yearns for him…!

“I am very glad to have met you little xiānshòu.” A small smile tugs at his lips. Then, he turns and heads for the sliding doors.

So, you do the first thing that comes to your mind.

The empty cup falls from your hands, your footsteps thump loudly on the wooden floors, soft fabric clenches between your fingers.

As soft as the lips you crash yours onto.

…

It only lasts a few seconds but when you back just a little, ears low and tail curled up in apprehension, you realize what you did.

You’d kissed him, you’d kissed the emperor.

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him for dear life. He stares at you with wide surprised eyes but you’d rather die right here for your insolence than live the rest of your days in regret.

His scent takes on an alluring hint to it and your inner Omega is overjoyed. Up so close it is almost irresistible. His face remains impassive, if a little tense, but you can see in his eyes something you identify very well… hunger, desire.

“Lord Morax… t-the nest… please.”

“Y-You don’t have to-”

“Please! Allow me to please you, allow me to show you…how…” You whisper against his lips, leaning in again as your eyes flutter close.

And suddenly his hands wrap around you and pull you close, cupping your face, curling at your waist, there’s something possessive in it and you feel slight vibrations as he growls deep from his chest against your mouth. But there is also something sweet, something delicate…

And for once, you want more. You want this.

How did you end up here? In the most beautiful nest you’d ever constructed, with the most handsome, kind, caring Alpha you’d ever met?

His kisses are deep and slow, completely unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You lie on the soft sheets as he looms over you, exploring your mouth with an unhurried pace, hungry yet not forceful, letting you timidly do the same at your own pace.

This is nice…

His hands run along your body, caressing your skin through your flimsy attire. His touch curious but gentle.

“May I?” He asks, tugging at the fabric off your shoulder.

You shiver, at his voice, as the pure want in it, in his eyes, in his scent.

“Y-yes my lord…”

“Hmm…” His kisses trail down your jaw down to your neck as he starts pulling the garments off. Careful, instead of simply ripping them apart, your heart skips a beat. “If we’re going to do this, you can use my name and not just titles…”

Your top falls off and goosebumps litter your skin, nipples pebbled as one of his hands cups your breast.

“M-Morax…” You try, shakily, as if testing out the word alone on your lips.

“No, little one. Zhongli. That is my name.” He kisses down your shoulders, nipping at the skin.

“Ah!” Your tail flickers around and you purr.

You take the initiative to kiss him this time, and your hands start roaming his foreign clothes, fumbling with knots and pawing at the fabric. He chuckles at your frustrated whine. You want more, more of this feeling, more of him. To touch his skin, cover him in kisses, worship him.

(Show him what a good Omega you can be.)

No…

You want to make him feel good and please him.

Elegant fabric falls down discarded as he shakes off the layers of his top and you blink surprised. The fabric was bulky and covered up his figure. Lean but muscled, tantalizing like honey. You immediately latch onto him, nosing, scenting, nipping and kissing, feeling the faint outline of his abs and muscles twitch under your touch. He smells so good, he feels so good…

Your Omega instincts are starting to cloud your senses more and more.

Suddenly one of his hands gently squeezes a soft breast and you moan at the sudden touch “O-Oh!”

“You’re sensitive here, do you like this?” He asks, massaging your chest.

You whimper and nod frantically, tail wagging behind you. You had never been this responsive to having your chest played with, though then again, it was rare… but his sensual touches were quickly undoing you. Wetness pools at your gut and you rub your legs together.

Lord Mor- Zhongli… leans down then and something wet flicks over your nipple making you gasp, before warmth surrounds your nub. You cry out even louder. He sucks and laps at it and you instinctively tangle your hands on his hard dark hair, your legs wrapping around his waist.

You groan again, too many layers on the way.

“C-clothes… off, please!”

“As you wish, my dear dragoness.”

He continues squeezing, kissing, caressing and lapping at your skin, leaving a couple of hickeys along the way and teasing his Alpha fangs against you as his attention descends through your body once more, continuing his trail of kisses along your hip. His fingers dip down the waistband of your mesh pants and when you raise your hips to help, he pulls them down.

You’ve been naked in front of others more times than you’d like to count. But there’s something oddly intimate and special about this situation right now.

Your ears lower in apprehension, and your tail flicks by your side, resisting the urge to cover up. Lying down with your legs slightly spread around him. Already flushed, sweaty and panting.

“…You’re gorgeous.”

Huh?!

“I’m so lucky to have found you.” Zhongli nips at your hip. “So lucky that you want me too.” He kisses at your inner thigh.

Your breath hitches.

You’re the lucky one. Completely overjoyed that this Alpha likes you, desires you.

The first touch at your core has you mewling.

Zhongli strokes at your folds, still gentle, finding you soaked as your slick coats his fingers. Your body jolts and you moan “A-Ah!” He smirks against your thigh and nips there again as his fingers move in circles, teasing, testing, before moving to your clit. A finger pad stroking it just so, making your whole frame tremble, like every nerve in your body is being stimulated.

“Mngh- please!”

His fingers travel between your folds. First one sliding in rather easily, pumping steadily as you shudder in pleasure, and then two, making you writhe, bucking your hips against the touch, pushing them deeper, chasing that feeling.

Your body feels hot, too hot. Every sensation blocked except that warm wet feeling down there, in your new heaven. Your hands claw at the sheets, a pleasant fog setting in and you can feel yourself slipping into your most primal needs. But oh, oh, not like this.

You want him. Need him.

“You- y-you! please my lord!”

Something snaps in the Alpha’s eyes and Zhongli growls. Golden eyes dark, swallowed by lust and need and you whine when his fingers leave you. You vaguely hear rustling noises and before you can protest again, he pulls you up back on his lap and oh…

He’s big.

His erection stands proud between your bodies, rubbing against you and you shuffle impatiently, nuzzling against him.

Yes, yes…

Zhongli helps positioning you, gives himself a few strokes, and you feel his cockhead kiss at your entrance, you whine and stare at him rather confused. “L-Like this? B-But I have never- This is n-not how-”

He kisses your forehead, your nose, and pecks at your lips. “I can imagine this is very different from how they’ve taught you Alphas mount Omegas, but I my dear, intend to make love to you.” He whispers, hot breath fanning your cheeks as he nuzzles you, so close, so intimate. Your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Like this you will have more control. I want you to relax, enjoy, my sweet dragoness.” He kisses at your cheek, down your jaw to your neck. “May I?”

You can feel your eyes water. No one had ever told you that. No Alpha had ever been this patient or even asked your permission before. Words die on your throat as you stare mesmerized at Zhongli. Grateful. Incredulous. Completely enamored.

You nod, and he guides you down.

It’s different like this. So much different.

You bite your lip and whine a little once you start to move, his hands hold your hips as you raise them and sink back down on his cock, inch by delicious inch. You feel… full, but warm, good. Your insides clench around him and he groans.

Oh… you could get used to this…

“Hah… ah! … m-my lord... I’m…” You feel dizzy but in a good way, your body tingles all over and it’s exhilarating, addicting.

He leans forward a bit, nosing at your collarbone, soft kisses tickle your skin and he… he’s almost purring in delight, inhaling your scent. “I told you, you can just call me by my name... Would you let me hear it?”

You buck languidly on his embrace, enjoying this…sensual experience, these new feelings and sensations. His tender closeness, his intoxicating pheromones, his deep baritone.

Him.

“Zhongli…”

His name comes out as a needy cry and he growls, Alpha pride clearly satisfied. His hands roam your body just enough to shift position and pull you even closer, hips rolling in tandem, picking up speed, his fangs grazing your shoulder.

Your head is swimming in pleasure, fuzzy like stuffed with cotton, small little “Ah… ah… ah!” moans punched out of you. You’re vaguely aware of your nails digging onto his skin but you can’t even stop yourself, you need to hold onto something, anything.  

Even your tail subconsciously curls around his ankle (and he doesn’t even seem to mind), like every cell of your body is screaming at you to hold onto him and never let go.

Zhongli’s own breathing comes out in harsh puffs and satisfied groans as he buries himself in you over and over, the sound of skin slapping on skin becomes more prominent.

And then, he hits a spot that has you seeing stars.

Your eyes snap open (when had you closed them?) Back arching as if struck by lightning and letting out a high-pitched moan. H-How did he do that?! What was that? You don’t remember ever feeling like this in previous bonding attempts.

“M-more?” You mewl in delight.

Zhongli looks at you with a satisfied smirk and it only fuels the fire in your belly.

“Gladly.”

That same wonderful feeling travels up and down your body again and again as your moans and whimpers rise in volume, calling his name over and over. Zhongli kisses you, deep and passionate. Whispers praises and sweet nothings on your flickering dragon ears. Touches you so soft and reverently. Your body feels so hot, your mind going blank, you can feel the base of his cock swelling with his knot and the familiar coil of pleasure tightening as you anticipate it, crave it, more intense and satisfying than ever before.

And just as you reach that high, his fangs sink into you.

You come with a squeal, body tensing, clinging onto him, clenching on him as he lets out a deep satisfied groan, knotting you. Wet stickiness coats your insides and thighs. And everything feels right, just right. Perfect even.

It takes a moment to come back to your senses, and it’s to Zhongli’s hands rubbing circles at your back comfortingly, while he laps and kisses at the bonding mark he left on you.

And then the high comes crashing down.

The bonding mark.

Tears well up in your eyes and start rolling down your cheeks, your tail uncoiling from him and curling around yourself protectively, ears down.

Please no… this can’t be…

Please stay…

Please.

Zhongli immediately notices your distress, in your actions and your scent, completely different altogether. His own instincts going wild at the lack of a happy sated mate scent. “Darling, what’s wrong? I’m sorry did it hurt that much? Did I… harm you in some way or did something wrong?” Oh, he sounds so genuinely concerned.

You shake your head desperately. Of course he hasn’t.

But you will.

Your body will. Betray you as always.

No bonding mark has stayed in your neck for longer than a few minutes. They all fade.

Just like the alphas that place them in you.

And then comes the anger, the guilt, the disappointment, the despair, the loneliness…

You can’t take it. Not this time.

“S-stay… please…” You sob.

Your voice sounds so broken, so weak and tiny, absolutely heart wrenching.

And Zhongli embraces you.

“I will, my dearest dragoness. I promise you.” He kisses one of your horns.

You want to believe him but you can only cry harder…

The room is dark as your eyes flutter open. It takes a few minutes to adjust and for your mind to catch up. Where are you…? You look around at the wooden walls, nestled in comfy sheets, you see some wooden cabinets and a tea set-

…!!!

You jolt awake, tumbling some pillows from your fancy nest. Your last chance at bonding. The emperor. He was leaving, and then…!

You slap a hand against the junction between neck and shoulder and feel something there, a bandage… you try to stare at it confused, though it’s impossible from the angle. And then fear consumes you. What if… it’s not there…?

Your body is still naked, though you have been covered with a thick fabric while sleeping, as it now pools at your lap, your Omega scent and that of an Alpha mixed together pleasantly, you turn around.

The Emperor. Lord Morax. Zhongli.

He sleeps peacefully by your side, on your nest, after having mated you.

He stayed.

You stare at his handsome features, fair skin, dark long hair, strong jaw, muscled arms. His lips slightly parted as he breathes evenly. So at ease.

You want to reach out and brush at his hair, touch his face, kiss him.

You want this moment to last forever.

Looking up slightly you see the large mirror, see yourself. A tiny thing, with freaky ears, horns and a tail.

It was… good, while it lasted. Almost like a dream.

Tears start falling down your cheeks again and you try to be as silent as possible as you pull and lift at the bandage in your shoulder. And there underneath it is… something?

Your fingers trace a mark, a wound, it stings and you hiss.

No way. There is no way.

Hope flutters in your chest, your stomach flips and you feel dizzy, nervous. A bonding mark? Is it real? Is it still there?

You shuffle out of the nest as fast and stealthily as you can, standing in front of the mirror. Hair a mess, eyes wide, pale in fear.

And there it is. The clear mark of an Alpha bite, still rather tender. A claim. A bond.

You start sobbing as you trace it, touch it, feel it. It must have been hours, there is no way…

It’s there, it’s there, for real. You want to laugh, to cry, you’re still nervous, scared, hopeful, happy, a million things at once.

But how? Why now?

“Hnng… darling? Are you crying again?” You stiffen as you hear the voice, deep and hoarse, laced with drowsiness. You turn and see him sit up and yawn carelessly like a rishboland tiger. Elegant and intimidating like one too with his bright golden eyes, Alpha fangs and muscled figure. Still naked as well, you note.

“T-the bonding mark… it’s still there!” You exclaim to him, gesturing to it.

“You should let it heal nicely.”

“Y-You don’t get it!” You huff. “My Lord… it’s still there! I’m bonded, I’m yours!”

He chuckles. “Rather, I would say we belong to each other, now.”

Belong to each other.

That sounds nice.

You turn back to the mirror, still staring at it, poking it with a finger softly, as if afraid it’ll disappear, as if it was an illusion, a dream.

But it’s there.

“For years… for years I thought I was doing s-something wrong, that there was something… wrong… with me…” You cry softly. “No Alpha had even bonded me…”

Suddenly you feel strong arms curl around your frame, a chin resting at your shoulder where it kisses your skin, and then brushes over the mark. It stings but you welcome it.

It means it’s real, all of this is.

Zhongli inhales, taking in your scent. “Well you see my dear, a dragonblood… a xiānshòu like you, can only be truly bonded by one of its own kind.”

The words take a moment to process, to sit on your brain, and you frown confused, staring at him from the mirror. And then your eyes widen.

Golden antlers crown his head, majestic and almost glowing, small scales appear under his striking amber eyes, the color of burnt ocher. A large tail, even bigger than yours in golden and brown hues, sways lazily behind him, before finding yours and intertwining with it, the feel is foreign but not unwelcome. Like holding hands.

You turn around so fast you almost trip if it weren’t for his hold. The dragonblood features are still there, in plain sight.

Your throat feels dry.

“You… you’re…”

He raises a finger to his lips and shushes you, then smiles. “I am yours my dear. Just as you are now mine.”

You cling to him and hide your face on his chest as you cry. Overwhelmed, relieved.

Yes, this is where you belong.

[pavosnoctua]

Please please please! Can I ask for yan!Neuvillette with dragoness!darling?? 🥺🥺

I like yandere!xYandere! Darling (I don't know why? I loved your Diluc x delusional reader)

Hello! Thank you for the wait!

Thank you!

cw: obsessive behaviors, possessive behaviors, general yandere warnings, abuse of power, afab reader, dub-con, fade to black, mentions of breeding, slight ooc, stockholm syndrome(?). the writer does not condone these actions, minors dni, mdni, yandere content, slight dead dove. if i am missing a tag, let me know!

Neuvilette is a...kind lover. In the sense he doesn't keep his darling trapped away in a luxurious home, and he allows you to go out and about, so long as you have some security detail with you. You are, after all, his lover and he wants to take the utmost care so you don't get hurt or get lost. You're just like him, in a sense, so of course he wants to keep you safe.

You tell yourself this every time - it's for your own good, for your own safety as you are like him. A dragon, a dragonness really, in human form but your eyes give you away and this makes you a target of nefarious people. Fontaine is full of crime, after all. Neuvilette is unafraid of using his status against you, spies everywhere. You can't escape unless you leave Fontaine, and you can't leave Fontaine because the world outside of the gilded cage of your home is dangerous and terrifying.

At least, that's what he told you. Look at how Fontaine is. Do you believe Sumeru, Natlan, or Mondstadt would be any better? You have me.

A dragon species is a rare species, hardly ever born - the details of it are lost to you and nobody explains it to you and Neuvilette seems to want to keep you from it. So, all you can do is rely on him.

He kisses you, softly, kindly, bringing you something he knows you'd love - his fingers running over your hips. He is a perfect lover, tender with you as he leads to your marital bed. Something happened in court today, something that set off his protective instincts.

Hunger is in his blue eyes as he kisses your lips until they're puffy from being licked and bit. Wet kisses press along your neck, hands rubbing at your thighs as he leaves red marks everywhere.

"You'll make a good mother," he groans as he grinds himself against you. If there's one thing that puts you both apart from the humans, it's how reproduction works. There's two penises and you're not sure you can take both or even just one, with how big he seems. "Gonna - make sure you never leave. I'll keep you and our child safe."

All you can do is lift your lips to help him remove your skirt - made up of highest and best quality.

"My beautiful mate." he groans as he pushes one dick inside of you, and you cry out. Neuvilette presses desperate kisses against your lips. "It's okay, my beloved." Your cunt clenches around him. "You were made for this."

You nod, weakly.

You are, you tell yourself. Neuvilette is a wonderful lover, he leaves you wanting for nothing. You are free to wandering Fontaine's streets so long as there is someone with you. You, one of the few rare dragons left in this world, just need the extra detail. And Neuvilette is making sure you're safe, you're happy, and the two of you are perfect mates. And the best you can do to repay this kindness is give him what he wants.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 2 - Work Introductions

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Mentions of child loss, mentions of medical neglect/abuse, mentions of reproductive abuse, mentions of pregnancy complications and death, mentions of racism, sexism (in an omegaverse way), Brandon (unfortunately living), real world references

Data entry and analysis isn’t the most exciting job in the world, no matter what kind of fancy title you’re given, but it pays the bills. Working on a military base isn’t ideal, but the benefits are nothing to sneeze at. And most days, you get to sit alone and uninterrupted, in your own office, instead of in a cramped cubicle.

On Tuesday, you’re startled out of your audiobook by a gentle knock on your desk. Sherry, your immediate superior, gives an awkward little wave and waits for you to finish your line and mute your music.

“Hey, I’m so sorry about this,” she says, as soon as your headphones are clear. “You remember those port reports from Honduras? Some of the senior analysts have some questions for you? They’re currently in a meeting and requested some clarification…?”

You wait, but she doesn’t say anything else. “…what do they want to know?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell me, I’m sorry,” Sherry says. “They asked if you could… Well, they need you to attend the meeting. Right now.”

“Do I even have the clearance for that kind of meeting?” You stand without waiting for an answer and disconnect your laptop from the dock. With it tucked under your arm, you grab a notebook and pen, as well as your water bottle.

Sherry leads the way out of the office. “I know you submitted these reports two weeks ago, and your notations are excellent. I think the problem is with one of the flagged ship manifests, but they wouldn’t clarify why they were concerned. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

Her apologetic air suddenly makes sense. “Brandon’s in there, isn’t he?”

Sherry grimaces. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s him and a few alphas. There’s an American CIA agent as well.”

“So I absolutely don’t have the clearance for this meeting,” you sigh. “Great.”

A short elevator ride and two halls away, you take a fortifying breath before you step into an occupied meeting room. Brandon’s is the first face you see, and when he sees you the corners of his lips turn up in an infuriating smile. Next to him, another senior analyst’s eyebrows pop up, but Andrew actually looks happy to see you.

Before the door can close behind you, a blonde, American alpha stands and offers her hand in a no-nonsense shake. “Kate Laswell. We appreciate you being so prompt.”

“Of course,” you answer. Unfortunately, your attention is a little torn. All four members of the 141 are sitting at the table, looking at you curiously. Sergent MacTavish grins like a wolf. Captain Price tips his chin up just enough that you know he’s scenting you. Lieutenant Riley, face covered from the nose down in a black neck gaiter, gives you a quick once over that makes you want to shiver. But you’re a professional, so instead of fleeing you take the nearest seat, across from a smiling Sergent Garrick. You fold both of your hands on top of the table, the very picture of accommodating and helpful, “What can I assist you with?”

“Why’d you flag this shipping manifest,” Brandon asks. The projector at the front of the room switches to a document that would be barely legible, even without the distortion of zoom.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you tell him, flipping your laptop open. “What’s the file name?”

“Honduras,” Brandon says, Port Cortez.”

“Puerto Cortes,” you correct. And seeing as it’s the largest seaport in Central America, I’ve combed through literally hundreds of manifests, you think, but don’t say. “I’m going to have to ask you to be a bit more specific. The projector isn’t easy to read.”

“You flagged this manifest for a Korean ship.”

You jump when Sergent Garrick says, “Christ, mate, just give her the file name.”

Lieutenant Riley gives a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. You think you see MacTavish still grinning at you out of the corner of your eye. Laswell rattles off the document name without looking.

As soon as the document loads, you know exactly why Brandon and Andrew are confused. And you know that the following conversation is going to be so unpleasant that you shoot off a quick email to take the rest of the day off once this meeting ends.

You take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “The manifest is inconsistent with previous patterns from that particular port and that particular captain and crew. As I noted, the four containers from Venusian Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t have made it on the ship do to political and economic pressures.”

Brandon doesn’t bother to look at you when he asks, “What pressures?”

Laswell interjects before you can answer, “Leaked internal communications provided evidence that Cloudstone Pharm was selling tampered heat suppressants and birth control in various black markets. The 4B movement in South Korea had been calling for an investigation for years by that point. A lot of omegas were killed because of mis-labeled medications. Pregnancy and birth related complications.”

“I remember that. It was, what, five, more years ago?” Lieutenant Riley asks. “Had an entire re-brand. Cloudstone to Venusian. Everything went from blues and whites to greens and yellows.”

“Okay, so the containers had a bit of extra security to get onto the ship,” Brandon says, before you can get over the shock of two alphas in a room who know anything about even the broad strokes of omega health care. “There’s protesters at every major port for one thing or another.”

“Even if they’d gotten on the ship, they wouldn’t have made it to Puerto Cortes,” you counter. “The captain lost two of his kids because of their medications. He’s had his crew dump the containers and alter manifests before. He was investigated for it, but his crew wouldn’t speak against him.”

Brandon frowns. “How do we know he didn’t get paid off?”

How do we know the omegas weren’t worth less than a cash payment? Your throat feels like closing in on itself. You keep your voice as steady as you can. “He wouldn’t have been.”

“How do you know?”

Andrew, eyes darting between you and Brandon, tries to interrupt. “Well-”

“Because he made the autopsy reports for both of his sons public,” you answer. You have to force your jaw to unclench. “Along with pictures and videos of how sick they were before they passed, before anyone knew what was really wrong with them. And the executives of Cloudstone, an American company, laughed. Called them slurs and ignorant animals in emails and meeting memos that were later leaked to the public.”

Across from you, Garrick is not smiling anymore. “That’s… disgusting.”

“Cloudstone struggled to recover in eastern Asian markets, even with the re-brand,” you continue, then take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And all of this was in my report.”

“Your job isn’t to provide those kinds of references. You’re not trained for it. There were a couple of links to articles,” Brandon dismisses. “Not enough to-”

“One of his sons experienced total organ failure,” you interrupt, closing your laptop. You know your scent must be all over the place, but the subject matter was already touchy. Now he’s questioning your work and misrepresenting your job duties? Oh, fuck him. “Because he was on incorrectly administered fertility treatments that were disguised as birth control, he had a high-risk pregnancy with multiples. And then his medications were switched with heat inducers. His other son had rapid onset neuropathy and multiple strokes within a week. Neither of his sons wanted to have children. One of them couldn’t, biologically, because it would have killed him anyways. And their partners decided that they didn’t care.”

Brandon wrinkles his nose at you. “No need to get so worked up.”

You practically feel the way your scent goes hot and acrid. Where most omegas have a distress scent that is sickly sweet, yours is much closer to an alpha’s shock scent. Your parents used to call you “Wildfire” because of it. You watch the hairs on Garrik’s arms stand up.

You can barely smell Andrew’s nervous distress over your rage. “Okay, yeah, that’s plenty. The captain wouldn’t have taken the containers.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t consult the references I added into the report?” You know the sudden calm in your voice, the relaxing of your posture, is at odds with the way your anger scent gets stronger. You’ve been told it’s a sensory nightmare, so you only do it when someone tells you you’re not calm enough. You fold your hands on the table again. “Because I included original and translated sources, according to the standards of the department.”

The room is silent. All seven alphas are agitated. You can only pick out MacTavish’s scent, muddled and frustrated. Andrew opens his mouth, closes it. Finally says, “I didn’t receive the references.”

“Senior analyst Lawrence received the full report directly,” you say, holding eye contact with Brandon. “But I know how emails can get lost. I would be happy to send them again. I’ll CC you, and request that your access to the full drive be confirmed. Sir. Is there anything else I can assist the team with?”

Laswell scrawls something on a sticky note and passes it over to you. “Please also include me on those emails.”

You give her your most demure smile. “Unfortunately, Agent Laswell, I don’t have the clearance to send reports outside of the department. I would be happy to help you coordinate that with senior analysts Lawrence and Bennett.”

You pluck the sticky note from her hand, stand, and gather up your laptop, notebook, and water bottle. When you have everything, you pass behind her to where Brandon and Andrew are sitting. Deliberately putting yourself at Brandon’s back, you hand the note to Andrew with a placid smile. “Agent Laswell requests that you provide her with the full report.”

Brandon smells disconcerted, trapped in his seat with your scent roaring as you stand just inside of his blind spot. Andrew, for his part, only hesitates for a moment before taking the offered sticky note, looking from you to Laswell to Brandon and back. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.” Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“I… believe that will be all…?”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” You cement your little performance with a perfectly deferential partial curtsy to Andrew, then to the rest of the room. “Please do not hesitate to let me know if there’s anything else I can do the support the team.”

As the door shuts behind you, you hear Captain Price’s voice for the first time. “Goddamn. That is a woman capable of murder.”

[bitten-fruit]

Houndtooth | ⇦ Chapter 8 ⇨

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut

18+ mdni - cw: physical violence - 4.8k words

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭

Your hunter isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is.  

He’s not subtle, when his blackened lids droop heavy over his burrowing glare, shifting from disdain to a dark hunger; potent enough to taste, hot and salty. When he adjusts his position in his seat, mammoth thighs spread in egotism, as he bucks his pelvis and leans back to find greater comfort while he indulges in the sight of you. When he sucks his teeth in feigned contempt at your proposition, masquerading as a stoic hunter only interested in the kill – and not the kind that plays with his food.  

The atmosphere between his body and yours has suddenly become heavy. Warm and dense. Weighed down by some mutual cognisance, the sudden awareness that you can read the animal instinct that runs through his mind, and he yours. You feel it in your chest. 

It was a quick and sore distraction, at least, from the revelation of your husband’s true nature. You knew of his tendencies, you caught wind of his exploits. Had some vague understanding that it was illegal, that it operated in the shadows – but you had convinced yourself his money was plucked from deserving pockets. That his industry only stained white collars.  

You’ve been blind. Too focused on the only little world he granted you, your glittering snowglobe, uncaring and uninterested in what he had to do to afford you. But, to give yourself grace, what could you have done?  

Your husband was a smart man. Shrewd. Cunning. There were no feminine wiles you could have employed, no means to mould nor manipulate him, beyond a request for a newer sports-car or a softer mink coat. There was a prescribed window within which you could operate, only a few strings you could pull. To venture outside would have been to seek dire punishment.  

And now he’s dead. Not smart enough to avoid that, was he?  

Whatever love you once felt for him, whatever twisted desperation you had mistaken as affection, has soured into bile. Any fond memory now mutated into some depraved reproduction, ugly and horrid.  

Now, you’re forced to face whatever pitiful life might await you. You’re forced to wonder whether or not he wrote you into his will, left anything in your name for you to survive on – and after his tirade of bitter abuses leading up to his unceremonious death, you sincerely doubt it.  

What is there left for you? 

You truly, truly, have nothing. Not even the faint optimism that you have at least experienced love and luxury in your short and bitter life. All has been tainted. Nothing sacred remains.  

So what now is there left to do but to entertain your abductors? To oblige whatever use they have for you? The only alternative is to give up and await your execution. If it gets to that, you hope it’s quick.  

Not ready to die yet, though, you decide to entertain him.  

“What use, then,” you utter, barely louder than a whisper.  

He leers at you through the shadowed pits of his mask. Dark eyes sharper than piercing bullets, they fire at you, warm the areas of your body that they linger on. Clouded and distant, plainly distracted. 

You know what he’s distracted by. You could see, feel him undressing you through his glare alone. 

He bounces his knee, crosses his arms. Impatient, is he?  

Maybe he just needs you to offer one more time. Give him one more excuse.  

Why are you considering it so heavily? 

“Do you want to go home, Mia?” There’s a thickness in his tone. Not a sincere offer. You foretell a catch.  

The image slithers back to you of that convulsing sentry, choking on his own foaming blood, pleading wordlessly for you to put him down. Just as vivid and squelching as when you had been confronted by it in the bowels of your mansion.  

“There’s too much blood to clean up,” you breathe, staring absently into the floor. 

“To England,” he clarifies through his jaw, “back to Nottingham.” 

Your heart skips. Rush of air escapes your lungs. He notices, quickly, he tilts his head as though to analyse your reaction.  

“You’d like that, eh?”  

Tongue is too heavy. Thoughts indecipherable. Fly through your mind in a blinding, strobing picture show. You hadn’t been home since you were a teenager. Can’t even remember the name of the street you lived on, wouldn’t want to if you could.  

“I…” you hesitate, “I don’t have a passport.” 

“We can get you a passport.” 

Through teeth. “How.” 

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grumbles, a slight roll of his eyes. “We can.” 

You bite the gummy inside of your lip, hoping you split the flesh; suckling at it for some comfort, maybe to pacify yourself for a moment of jittery contemplation. 

“For what,” you ask eventually, voice shaky. 

Fingers interwoven apathetically; he seems to ponder for a moment before he speaks.  

“You’re an asset,” he grunts, tone cold. “A valuable one.”   

You clench your jaw. “What, is it Victor’s money you want?” 

He almost chuckles at that, a huff of disdain. “No. I want the man who helped him get it.”  

“Who?” 

He pauses, tense and fuming, leans forward.  

“Vladimir Makarov.”  

Him again.  

The blood in your swollen head drains out through your neck at his mention. Fills your lungs, thick and dark, plugs your trachea and prevents you from sucking down another breath.  

Ever-observant, he sees that, too. “Familiar, is he?” 

A slow nod is the only answer you muster.  

“How familiar?”  

“Enough,” you croak.  

He squints, dissatisfied. Leans back in his seat. “Gonna need more than that.”  

“You already know who he is. You already know what he does.” You spit, but the quiver in your voice betrays you.  

“There's only so much intel we can get by drone or spy,” he disputes, a severity woven through his words. You can see his fuse burning short. “You know him personally, don’t you?”  

A second to breathe. Two. His questioning, his presence, is suffocating. You stare knives into the floor, wrestling with an amorphous terror that you fail to conceal behind your cracking veneer of bravery.  

He shifts forward slowly, a prowl. Hunting. “Don’t you?”  

“I don’t... I don’t know him well,” you breathe. “He worked with Victor. That’s all I know.”  

“Careful, Mia,” he murmurs, bitter and aggravated. “Don’t lie to me.” 

 You swallow quietly. “He, um. He visited the house a lot.”  

“For what.”  

“Victor would have him over for, for meetings. Not just Vladimir, other men too. But he, uh, he made himself at home. I think he worked more closely with Victor than the others, though. Victor didn’t like him.”  

“They didn’t get on?”  

Cautiously shaking your head, you keep your eyes glued to him. “They were professional. I don’t... I don’t know the details. Victor never said so, um, but I could tell. He would always be in a shittier mood when they had to work together.”  

Riley licks his teeth, crosses his arms as he chews on his next question. “What about you,” he grumbles. “What did you think of him.”  

“He...” you hesitate, glower darting away from him, you stare into the fluorescent bar above him. “I didn’t like him either.”  

“You spoken to him?”  

He must be able to see your shakiness, your jittery disposition, as you bite words out like they’re too thick to fit in your mouth, burn your tongue. “I avoided it.”  

“But you did.”  

An anxious sigh escapes you. “Yes.”  

“Civil?”  

“I was polite,” you murmured. “I was always polite. I had to be.”  

“What’d he think of you?”  

You chew your tongue. Pick at your fingernails almost viciously enough to draw blood. “I don’t think he thought of me at all.”  

Again, he bounces his knee. Fuse burns shorter. “Am I going to have to show you what happens when you lie, Mia?”  

“No–” you squeak, hands landing flat on your knees as if you had been called to attention. “I – I’m sorry. I... he, uh. As far as I could tell he didn’t dislike me. He – he would’ve... he would’ve made it known if he disliked me.”  

“How so?”  

“He has a... a short temper.”  

“He would’ve hurt you?” 

Your jaw tightens, stare at him not breaking. “What do you want me to do,” you utter through your teeth. “Why are you asking me about him.”  

He tilts his head, as though in thought. “I want a quid pro quo.”  

“What’s the quo,” you shiver. 

“You’re going to host your husband’s wake,” he insists, stern as if reminding you that you have no say in your fate. “And you’re going to invite him. All of them.”  

You fall silent. Fall still. Heart thunders in your chest, it aches hot with exertion. You shake your head cautiously, a reflex. “No.”  

Refusal hurtles from your throat with an intensity that startles you; by turn a plea and an avowal.  

“No?” He snarls, a quirk of his head – you’re yet unsure if you had surprised him or infuriated him.  

“No – I – I can’t,” you stammer, vigorously shaking your head in dispute. “I can’t.”  

He scoffs. “You don’t have a choice.”  

Hands grip the edge of the mattress you sit on, bunching the foam in claws, white knuckles, you hyperventilate so vigorously that you feel yourself spinning. “I can’t. They – you don’t understand. They’re–” 

“You know what’ll happen to you,” He growls, suddenly seethingly aggravated. “If you don’t cooperate.” 

Through sore tears you scowl, lips curling, betraying the thunderstorm of turmoil behind them – terror, anguish, fury.  

“There is nothing, nothing you can do to me that could be worse than what they will do. Nothing,” you seethe, enervated voice shaky and pitiful. “They... without Victor, they’ll...” 

“Think you’ll be spared anything here?”  

Through a laboured breath, flared nostrils, a tear trickles into the corner of your mouth, salty on your tongue. “You’re not the one I’m scared of.”  

“That’s a mistake,” he fumes, as he stands up from his seat – stalks towards you slow. Threatening. “I don’t keep prisoners, Mia. If you’re not useful, you’re deadweight.”  

Looking down on you menacingly, he hangs his burly arms by his side. They twitch, he stretches out his fingers before clenching them into fists; a warning. A reminder of how they can hurt you. “I’ll kill you myself.”  

Steadfast, you don’t shift as you glare up at him; boring into those dark eyes, pools of black tar in the darkness cast by his shadow.  

“Then kill me,” you croak. “I’d be better off dead.”  

Ghost lights himself a cigarette the second he barges out of your cell, catching glimpse of you through the miniscule steel-mesh window in the door. You lie down on the deteriorated mattress, curl up, face the wall like you can hide there.  

Better off dead.  

Maybe you’re right.  

He’s well aware of what fate will befall you if he doesn’t put a bullet in your head. Even honourable soldiers will inevitably seek the warmth and comfort they can take from you. Will use you to sate their hunger after weeks, months, of fighting in the barren snow and washing off the indelible blood.  

You think you’re safer here, cooped up in a locked cell, out of reach; than back in the anarchy of your Russian circle of warlords. Here you’re surrounded by the gun-wielding puppets of powerful governments. But their laws won’t protect you. Not here. Nothing will.  

He’ll give you time to think it over. Let you come to your senses.  

Because he’d prefer not to kill you. Not out of any particular compassion, he tells himself, not because he would find it difficult to do so. No, instead, because he had been the one to suggest your abduction at all. The others would have left you amongst the strewed corpses of your guards. Would’ve shot you dead if you screamed too loud. That likely would’ve been the more altruistic approach, but Ghost knew you were not an innocent bystander. Knew you’d serve a valuable purpose.  

Now your value is running thin.  

Yet as he saunters down the empty hallway, to the beating echoes of his boots on vinyl-coated concrete, the image of you persists in tormenting him. The glint of your lips, the sheen of your cheeks, damp with fear and sweat. The strain of the fine tendons in your neck as you draw in your careful breaths. The lilt of your depleted voice, hoarse, pleading.  

Still he stares ahead as if he can see you there, standing winsomely in the tunnel; still he glowers at you with a ravening appetite, far beyond his control. 

Could you read his mind?  

He had seen you shift edgily. Lips part in apprehension. Knees press together. Fingernails dig into your thighs and inflict little red moons in their wake.  

Could you feel his hunger?  

He hopes you couldn’t. Hopes you can’t. Hates you for having any sway on him, for coaxing out whatever fucking animal sits behind his teeth and leers at you so shamelessly. Hates himself for losing his grip.  

Swirling the bitter smoke in his empty mouth, letting it pour from his nostrils, he marches to the gear room to grab his Goretex snow jacket. Needs to get some air. Needs the winter dawn to cool the burning heat that swells in the back of his neck.  

He’s out there for an hour. Silently thankful nobody bothers him, as he tucks himself against a wall near the back of the maze-like concrete compound. He sucks down three Russian cigarettes in his solitude, exerting every effort to focus on the war, the objectives, the strategies, the orders – and not you.  

After a long while, once the encroaching sun licks the sky a deep shade of lilac from behind the black horizon, he eventually cools off. Whatever flare had overwhelmed him finally settling into a simmer he can for now keep a handle on.  

So he heads to the Captain.  

Not sure yet what he’ll report to him. Admit that he has failed to convince you? That the very thought of you has infected him like some encephalitic disease, eating away at his mind from the inside out? 

He pushes down the rattling door handle and storms into Price’s makeshift office without knocking. Ghost doesn’t knock. He enters with impatience.  

“Fuck – Simon,” Price barks, startled by the Lieutenant’s arrival. He stands at his desk, leaning over a fraying map. “Y’really are a fuckin’ ghost, eh?”  

“She refused,” Ghost declares in a growl, curt and frustrated.  

“’Course she did,” the Captain dismisses uninterestedly, turning to lean on the edge of the desk.  

Crossing arms over his chest, Ghost licks his teeth. “She’ll change her mind,” he shrugs. “Give ‘er a couple days o’ this place, she’ll change it.”  

“We don’t have days, Simon.”  

“Then what’s your suggestion.”  

Price lets out a crude chuckle. “Graves had a couple.”  

Ghost grits his teeth. “What?”  

“Y’know the yanks,” the Captain snorts, “definitely their area of expertise.”  

“The fuck are you talking about.”  

“He said he could convince her,” he shrugs.  

Jaw clenches to the point of ache. “You know what that fuckin’ means, don’t you.”  

Price curls his lips into a thin line under the shadow of his beard. The same sort of expression that always betrays his own reluctance to do what he calls the dirty work. To the Captain it’s rational. Any cruelty is allowed when the ends justify the means. Pretends he’s too moral for filth even when he finds such humour in it. No, he can orchestrate the savagery, shift the pawns around on the board, so long as he needn’t witness it.   

“Frankly, Simon, I don’t give a shit what it means,” he grumbles, “if we get a spy out of her, doesn’t matter to me what it takes.” 

“Not like you to abide rape and torture, captain,” Ghost seethes, venom slick and pointed in his throat. 

“Mh, well, you made sure we had no other option when you shot her fucking husband.”  

“Piss off. He wasn’t gonna give us anything and you know it.” 

“You got cocky, Simon, that’s what happened,” the Captain chides, irritation flushing warm in his once jovial cheeks. “Happy to pull the trigger on our VIP but haven’t got the balls to beat some sense into his goddamn hooker.”  

“She knows shit all about the Konnis,” Ghost protested, rage only burning hotter. “Torturing her is a waste of time.”  

“Fuck’s gotten into you?” Price spits, “This sort of business is your M.O.”  

“My M.O. is getting the fuckin’ job done without collateral. Graves is a dog. He’ll only make a fuckin’ mess.”  

Price rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Then go clean it up.”  

Ghost straightens his back, knuckles straining, fists trembling. “He’s got her now?”  

“Yes, Jesus. We’re on a fucking deadline, remember?”  

“Fuck’s sake,” Ghost snarls, immediately swivelling on his boot and ramming open the door with his forearm.  

“You’d better have a backup plan, Simon.” Price barks after him, but his hoarse command is cut short but the deafening bang of the slamming door.   

~

Cement melts beneath his boots as he thunders through the intestines of the compound. Wool of his balaclava traps the steam that he exhales with each ragged breath.  

Stalks like a wolf. Dark red of shuddering blood pulses thick and hot into his vision; encroaches his periphery until the remaining pinpricks of acute sight turn to crosshairs. Knows his target, can smell him from here.  

Can hear him, too. Hears that blustering, cocksure laughter reverberating through the clinical halls, muffled by the thick door that keeps you trapped at his leisure.  

Ghost’s fury is rational. It always is. There’s always some detached, intellectual justification for his explosive reaction to whatever it is, slight or significant, that inflames him. This time, it’s imprudence. Stupidity. Arrogance. The stupid fucking privateer will lay ruin the meticulously considered strategy Ghost has been weaving since he caught you.  

There won’t be even a dream of coerced espionage if you’re covered in bruises and bleeding from flesh wounds and violated orifices. If you’re too shaken to even utter a sensical word to the very men you’ll be wringing information from.  

But Graves has no sense of subtlety. Blindly follows his depraved impulse like a spoiled little boy. The kind of disturbed kid that picked the legs off insects, would throw kittens into firepits just to hear them howl. He’d happily drop nuclear bombs on an entire city if it meant a confirmed kill of a single target. Ghost finds himself sordidly repulsed that Price is growing desperate enough to give the fucking dog a bone. To embolden him by allowing him to experiment with your suffering.  

Can hear your noises now, too.  

Not quite screaming, broken cries as though holes had been torn in your throat. Sore and wet. He sees the door to your cell, painted muted teal and chipping around the handle, scratches where keys had cut through the varnish.  

His handgun now nestled in his palm, didn’t consciously notice that he had pulled it from where he had left it tucked in the back of his trousers. Par for the course that the dumb fuck had left the door unlocked. Done Ghost the favour of letting him hurl his boot into the door and kicking it open in a single blow.  

You let out an anguished squeal following the thunderous whack of the door, as it flies open and slams into the cinderblock wall. Not the crashing door that made you scream, though – instead, the closed fist that had just been thrown into your cheek, narrowly missing your eye. Loud and vicious enough to be heard amongst the commotion, the tender crack of bone hitting bone.  

His flaming eyes land on you. 

In the centre of the cell, the arches of your bare feet graze the floor as you’re hung by a fist around your hair; held in a ponytail tight against your scalp, you dangle from it. Too close to the ground to stand on your own feet, too high to kneel. The red welts of your scratches scour the forearm of the man that suspends you, where you’ve tried to hold yourself up to spare your scalp from being torn from your skull like Velcro.  

It’s not Graves that dangles you. Too tall. No, instead, it’s one of his shadows. A myrmidon, muscle to no doubt prevent you from kicking the Commander in the fucking head again. Too much of a pussy to be by himself in the same room as you. Even as he tortures you. Pathetic fuck.  

The bootlicker that carries you is expendable. Disposable. Not Ghost’s comrade. It’s instinct as Ghost raises his gun. It’s reflex as he pulls the trigger, iron sights unconsciously aligned with the skull of the mercenary in black. He seizes before he drops, hot blood spitting in a geyser from the hole that the single bullet tore through his forehead.  

You tumble down with him, erupt out a bonechilling scream of terror as you hold your arms over your head to protect yourself. You scurry, slipping in the blood as you attempt to crawl to the corner of the cell. Only then does he notice your cruel nudity, the rags of your soft negligée left in pink confetti where it had evidently been cut from you.  

Ghost’s fury is quickly redirected to the Commander, then, who merely gawks in the moments it takes him to register the sudden series of events that had erupted before him. The consequences of his actions.  

“What the fuck!” He roars, gesturing with open palms in confused horror at the twitching corpse of his henchman.  

Ghost points the end of his gun at him, jutting it; not to aim, but to emphasise his anger. “You’re a reckless fucking idiot, you know that?”   

“Jesus – what the fuck is wrong with you?” Graves rages, shaking out the fist he had used to pummel you, before wiping his forehead as though he had overexerted himself. “I was following your captain’s orders.”  

“Yeah? Did the captain order you to fuckin’ strip her?”  

“Oh fuck off, you know the playbook, Riley,” he barks, a furious vein bulging in his forehead as he spits out his curses. “You’re not some champion of morality because you leave her fucking clothes on.”  

Therein lies the opportunity that Ghost savours so fondly. One that has him foaming at the mouth. An excuse. An excuse to lunge at the American mercenary, to hurl the butt of his handgun into the side of his head with a crack. Graves narrowly dodges the worst of the blow, instead the metal leaves a brutal scrape in his forehead.  

So Ghost follows it with a launch of his calloused fist into his cheekbone, an uppercut under his ribs, a roundhouse into his ear. God, he missed it. Sure, he’s thrown a punch or two in his uniform, wearing those padded gloves, impeded by a bulky helmet and a painfully cumbersome tactical vest. But why bother, how can one justify old-fashioned combat when they’re holding a heaving automatic rifle? 

It’s this he missed. Back to square one. He likes it raw. Meat hitting meat. Bone hitting bone. Bare, bruised knuckles pulverising rippling skin pulled tight over flesh, over and over, over and over. Thud. Thud. Thud.  

Gun cast aside, he doesn’t care where it had vanished to. Nothing but a red blur as the two men entangled into a bloody, fuming knot on the floor of the cell. A flurry of fists and elbows and boots; Graves landed his fare share, no dismissing that MARSOC training. But he didn’t have the decades of resilience that Ghost had built, layer by layer, fractured bone by fractured bone. No, Ghost can eat strikes to the head like fucking pudding.  

One final blow to Graves’s pig head ricochets the back of his skull off the solid floor with a whack, and he is swiftly decommissioned. Splutters blood from between his teeth and blinks vaguely at the ceiling. Ghost could keep going, fantasises about it – he’d find an abundance of pleasure in beating him to death. But, unfortunately, they need the Commander and his army of over-armed shadows. And, despite how much he yearned to, killing him over the abuse of a single prisoner would be, frankly – humiliating. An overreaction. A reflection of his lack of control.  

But Ghost has control. Tightens his leash, fastens his muzzle, as he pushes himself to stand with an aching hand on his knee. Maintains a violent glower down his nose at the American on the floor, who takes his time to recover. The beaten man grimaces, holding the back of his fist to his nose, smearing the dark blood that had poured from it.  

“Fuckin’ asshole,” he grunts; Ghost fights the urge to throw a kick into his ribcage.  

But instead he rolls his head to relieve the tension, hears the vertebrae in his neck crack with the stretch. With a clench of his jaw, a wipe of his brow, he returns his menacing glare to the American. Through a growl, he orders; “Get out.”  

Watches in huffing silence as he takes his time to stand, using the wall to get himself up and leaving a bloody print on the white paint. Once up, though, he does his best to conceal his injury. Elbows past Ghost as he marches towards the cell door, hurling it open and storming into the hall.  

“Oi–” Ghost barks, as he lurches towards the corpse of the shadow bundled in the centre of the cell. Hoists it up, heavy and dense, he heaves it over his shoulder. Feels the hot blood poor from its bullet hole down his back. “Don’t forget this.”  

With a crude throw he tosses the cadaver into the hallway – it skids across the linoleum, leaving slippery smears of blood along the speckled blue vinyl before it bumps into the furthest wall.  

He grunts as he slams the heavy door, it crashes closed with an obnoxiously loud bang; before he’s left in the throbbing, hot silence. He takes a second to collect himself, to soften his ravaging breathing, to let the blood and sweat dry on his burning skin.  

As he turns, though, he notices the black pile of wool on the floor, amongst the splatters of blood and black skids of rubber bootsoles.  

His mask. Must’ve lost it in the fight.  

And then he hears a click, and a quiet, squeaking breath – from you. In the frenzy he had almost forgotten you were there, a spectator to all of it, the catalyst of his savagery. There you are. Back pressed up against the walls, knees tucked tightly to your bare chest.  

In your velvet hands sits his gun.  

You barely wrap your fingers around the handle, instead holding it like it’s a small animal, like you might coo at it to pacify it. It’s as if you hadn’t noticed him, your dripping eyes fixated keenly on the cold metal, balanced in your shaky grip.   

He can’t explain, nor justify, nor understand his confidence that you won’t aim the weapon at him. Instead, he concernedly anticipates that you might turn it on yourself. He steps towards you, languid but assertive, until he is standing over you.  

Holds out a careful hand, gestures with his fingers. “Give me the gun.”  

Your head raises only slightly, level with his knees, you stare blankly with a pained grimace as if you had forgotten who he was. Not as though you knew him at all, did you?  

But your red eyes trail up his figure, meticulously inspecting, until they eventually land on his face.  

And your features soften.  

That worried strain, the tense muscles of your face ease, brows curling into some sort of pitying daze. He can’t read anything beyond that, can’t tell what you might be thinking as your eyes flit between his features like you’re scanning him, hunting for some realisation or deeper understanding.  

But you won’t find anything, little thing. There’s nothing there.  

His face is just as hardened and scarred, just as obscuring, just as frightening as the skull-painted mask that has long annexed his jaded identity.  

You blink at him, one of your pretty eyes nearly swallowed by the mauve swell resulting from a fist to the socket. You reach upward, gun in hand, you present it to him. Clever girl.  

He takes it, tucks it into the back of his trousers. Chews on words he feels compelled to say to you, they’re dense and swollen in his mouth. Thank you. I’m sorry. Let me get you some clothes.  

But he swallows them. Goes to pluck his mask off the floor, flicking off the dust, before he tugs it over his head. Adjusts the thick wool over his nose, tucks it under his jaw.  

Your stare returns to the floor. You wrap your arms around your shins.  

“I’ll get you some water,” he grunts, short and murmuring, as he turns towards the door and leaves in bitter silence. 

He locks it behind him.  

Next chapter ⇨

[clover0101]

haruka and what each animal on his case represents, an analysis

before we begin, general CW for the issues haruka's story deals with (neglect, child abuse, animal death, etc).

Throughout the MVs, animals play an important role in Haruka's story. I think each of these represents a part of Haruka, both how he perceives himself and how he wants to be perceived. Even if Haruka presumably has numerous animal victims, the ones most emphasized are dogs, fish, and rabbits.

1. RABBITS

Haruka is seen on many occasions with his bunny plush. It’s so important that it appears not only in Weakness and Undercover but also in graffart’s collab, where each item is importan on the character's story in one way or another (like mahiru and the mantis). I see it as a toy from his childhood that he’s very attached to.

The fact that it’s specifically a rabbit is interesting to me, as the rabbit is a prey. If we go to the unique point of view of Japanese culture, rabbits are also quite related to the moon. The lunar cycles are also an important symbol in weakness, showing white, blue and finally red moons over a red sky. The origin of the relationship between rabbits and the moon is debated between admiration as they are perceived as objects of fertility and health because of their reproduction, or a legend that spread from India:

"a rabbit can't tolerate seeing people die and jumps into the fire to become food, then Indra rewards him for his sacrifice and takes him to the moon."

The theme of self sacrifice and the ultimate reward one receives for it is reinforced by Taoism, where the hare, like the moon, dies to be reborn and represents immortality. More popularly, rabbits are also associated with good fortune. It being white also points to innocence, and in turn to the pursuit of something that upon attainment brings discovery, an idea popularized by Alice in Wonderland. Even if it's more seen as a weak and tender animal, it has also been culturally represented as cruel and capable of aggression, closer to what Haruka is than the role of merely a prey. Haruka wants to be seen as weak prey that the strong hunt, to be pitied and loved for it. To be perceived as someone to be protected, as he cannot defend himself, but this is contradicted by his own actions both in weakness and throughout milgram. The prey becomes the predator and gives way to the next animal;

2. DOGS

The dog is universally a symbol of loyalty and the effort it takes to form a training bond between a wild animal and a human. Dogs are seen accompanying men and being obedient to women.

Dogs are perceived as creatures that love unconditionally and are capable of giving everything to protect those they love.

In terms of personality and behavior, they are the closest animals to Haruka, who accepts and actively seeks to be guided and to be faithful for someone, to be used to feel useful and not abandoned.

Even if they are domestic, the dogs whose breeds are distinguishable are large dogs, considered to be hunting dogs. Haruka being represented as a dog also creates a parallel with kotoko, who is represented by a wolf.

Haruka being represented as a dog also creates a parallel with kotoko, who is represented by a wolf. Dogs are the friendlier, "clean" version of wolves, domesticated to be obedient, while wolves maintain a certain solitary air of independence and savagery.

However, whenever a dog is featured on screen it is accompanied by loud instrumentals and rather graphic visuals. In Weakness, child Haruka accepts and expresses affection towards the animal, who apparently is suddenly injured and runs away from him into a forest, where he is disoriented and confused. Haruka follows its footsteps and ends up seeing his hands in horror, realizing that he's the cause of its injury.

The perspective of present Haruka isn't so different, who now attacks it, destroying it until the only remains are the necklace it was wearing, ultramarine liquid and eyes, which I consider represent the opinions of others and looks that judge him.

I think the fact that this dog bleeds the same color as Haruka's is a not-so-hidden hint at the fact that, in a way, Haruka is ending up with a part of himself (this time a bit smaller, not being human yet) to escape people's judgments.

There are also many sayings that by mistreating someone, "you are treating them like a dog", like an animal, something inferior, but that still sticks to what the human wants and believing all their words.

In AKAA, we see that instead of being a mix of at least two dogs, they're now separate entities and different breeds that dissolve as Haruka sings about being reborn. Again, dogs often appear in stories as spirit guides, helping humans enter and exit the realm of the dead safely, representing a middle ground between life and death. Dogs are followers of their owners, not leaders, and no matter how close a bond they form with humans, they are rarely recognized as equals to us.

3. FISH

Most of the similarities between Haruka and fish are presented visually, with Haruka being a passive spectator of his own life, observing others from behind something akin to a glass wall that separates him from normal people. He's constantly surrounded by water drowning, and in one scene is even presented at a fish-eye angle, being watched by his mother.

In AKAA we can see two specific species of fish.

Yellow bobfish: they're very complicated fish to keep in aquariums because they release toxins when stressed and are naturally solitary once they reach adulthood, it's not recommended to have more than two in the same tank because they are territorial and aggressive among their own species, however it's friendly and sociable with fish of other species. It responds to stress with aggression and attacks its own kind (in this case other weaklings) just like Haruka.

Clownfish: they usually inhabit anemones, forming a mutualism in which they find shelter and food. Toxins from anemones don't affect them as they develop immunity to them throughout their lives to eventually live in them. Anemones benefit from clownfishes cleaning its tentacles. Clownfish often eat parasites and are also known to steal more food from anemones than what they give in return. They are also capable of changing sex from male to female. Seeing this particular species depicted tells us a lot not only about haruka, but about his relationship with Muu, as for the first time it's not depicted as a mutual need, a codependency that endangers their lives if they become separated, but a mutually beneficial relationship where both can exist separately, but live much more comfortably by relating to each other in this way.

Extra: Insects (specifically butterflies) and parasites.

The symbolism of transformation and metamorphosis is so present that it even took the title of both voice dramas. Caterpillars can only wriggle and are no different from any worthless worm, but after a season, they manage to transform into a butterfly: beautiful, admirable, much more memorable and lovable. Having been forgiven and meeting Muu, Haruka manages to "fulfill" his metamorphosis and become someone he believes is better. Still, from what is shown in AKAA, it doesn't seem that Haruka is entirely happy with this change happening - the monarch butterflies represents ambition and perseverance, but it seems to be rejected by haruka, who crushes it in his hands

Haruka longs for this transformation, but is unable to fully accept it happening. I think it's because no matter how much he changes and wants to be someone else, he can't get rid of the disastrous image he has of himself, or he has forced himself not to change so as not to be disliked even more by others.

Now, Kotoko is an important figure to Haruka despite not interacting much. It highlights both his codependency (or mutually beneficial relationship) with Muu as much as the fact that he assimilates a parasite.

This is a point I've made several times before, but Haruka's way of socializing is based on taking parts of others and melding them on himself, especially women. It started by stealing his mother's necklace and taking it as his own, continues by killing Mirai and stealing what he lacks, and ends now in a much more obvious way with Muu, imitating her personality, accepting her accessories and the clothes she chooses for him and even copying her sprite pose a bit.

If he had become closer to Yuno and Mahiru, I'm sure he would also start imitating their behaviors in one way or another. Haruka lives by taking parts of the women he surrounds herself with, and he seems to want to take something from kotoko as well, but it's still unclear what he wants.

What does all of this have in common?

Not only is the theme of change and rebirth prominent, but every animal that Haruka comes to hurt relates in one way or another to his desires, thoughts, or parts of himself. Figuratively, we can say that Haruka's case is about him eliminating and hiding every part of himself, until he murders his human victim, Mirai, who at the same time is the closest and most prominent part in him, with whom he wishes he could reconcile and exist together, accepting each other - for, unlike his other victims, Mirai is often presented as a friend and someone Haruka misses. I have yet to write Mirai's analysis on its own, so whether she is also a part of Haruka or not and whether all his kills are figurative is up to each one's choice, I tend to wander between both sides because I like both scenarios. In a less figurative way and taking the case more literally, these facts are simple trivia and interesting symbolism to consider when analyzing Haruka.

[wishcamper]

Don't Worry Feyre, Darling: the relationship anxiety to coersive control pipeline

CW: emotional abuse, reproductive abuse

Creds: licensed counselor with focus in addiction, trauma, and gay stuff; experience in group and family counseling, mandated DV clients, and abuse victim support.

Before the mob comes: I am not pro or anti Rhys, and I think his contradictions say much more about SJM than anything. I also believe it’s possible for a fandom to reclaim/rewrite a character who has been massacred by an author.

We’re going to begin at Rhys helping Feyre during an extremely dark place in both their lives. We’re going to end at him withholding vital medical information from her for the sake of “protecting her”. But first, some context.

Inside all of the (amazing) drama around the 2022 movie Don’t Worry, Darling , was a story that is pretty well worn at this point: men deciding they know what’s best for women and giving it to them whether they like it or not. In the movie, Florence Pugh’s Alice lives inside a computer simulation where she is the modern equivalent of a 50s housewife: dresses, calisthenics, martinis, “making a roast”. (She also gets eaten out by Harry Styles but that doesn’t seem to be an explicit part of the world’s design.) The problem? She doesn’t know she’s in the simulation. Harry Styles, in between all the cunnilingus, drugged her and put her in the program against her will. Yikes! Why!

The movie explains that he believed their life in the real world was miserable, and that he was saving her from that by giving her this perfect life. She should be grateful, if anything! What he doesn’t tell her, but that we see, is that Harry Styles also seems to struggle with a sense of inadequacy for not being able to provide. He is failing to live up to personal and cultural standards of manhood but, instead of dismantling those standards, he makes it his wife’s problem by kidnapping and brainwashing her consciousness. Hm. Interesting strategy. Let’s see how it works out for him.

With Rhysand, his motives in the beginning are more understandable - he initiates rescuing Feyre from the very real danger of Tamlin and her own mental decline. He feels justified breaking whatever magic law because of his own experiences being trapped and believing people should have a choice about where they go and who they are. He emphasizes over and over that these choices are Feyre’s and that she has freedom with him. We see through ACOMAF that helping her gives him a sense of purpose after the trauma UTM. His friends remark on how Feyre brought him back to life, never questioning and even encouraging this pattern.

But Rhys clearly has a lot of anxiety about his relationships and closeness in general. He mentions on several occasions that people around him tend to suffer because of him, and how afraid he is of doing that to Feyre. She is very receptive to this and puts effort into proving him wrong. He finds safety in the bubble of their relationship that probably feels pretty fucking good. The unfortunate side effect of this is that instead of processing and resolving his own anxiety, he directs it through Feyre and his love for her. Meanwhile, he keeps his anxious maneuvers behind the scenes, like not telling her about the bond, taking her to the Weaver, encouraging her to learn to read, to train. It may be genuinely helping her, but there’s also this sense of ‘I know what you need better than you do’. And again, nobody questions this.

We flirt with this tension at the beginning of ACOMAF when Rhys enforces their bargain from UTM. As the reader, at that point, we are supposed to believe this is cruel of him. He interrupts her wedding for fucks sake, throw your shoe at him girl! But over time we start to feel like it’s okay because Feyre secretly wanted it, it’s ultimately for her own good. Rhys is the most powerful High Lord in history, I’m sure he could’ve figured out a way to break the bargain, but he didn’t. In fact he engineered a situation where she'd be at his mercy. Why? Because Rhys was worried about Feyre, felt her deteriorating through the bond. Because of that, he felt justified in coming to collect. Personally, I have no opinion about whether crashing the wedding was the right or wrong thing to do. But it does set up, at least in the world of the book, that removing someone’s autonomy is okay if it’s for their own good, if the ends justify the means. In fact, that overstep ends up being the road to Feyre’s life in the NC and her love with Rhysand, a love that is so great she willingly tethers her very life to it. Even in ACOWAR we see how their relationship is a way he regulates his anxiety *cough*battlefield blowjob*cough*. He gets used to Feyre’s health and happiness being his source comfort and can continue to avoid dealing with his own shit internally.

In his seminal work Why Does He Do That?, Lundy Bancroft, a specialist in treatment of abuse perpetrators, debunks the various myths about what causes abuse and why it happens. His thesis is disarmingly simple: people abuse because they believe it’s justified. He says one of the signs of abuse escalation is “a growing attitude that he knows what is good for her better than she does”. Bancroft also notes that abuse is so hard to spot because “most abusive men don’t seem like abusers” (emphasis his) and that abusive men have periods of being charming, funny, even kind. Abusive men often don’t see themselves as such, because the strategy works for them - they feel good when they displace their emotional problems onto someone else.(1)

And then Feyre gets pregnant with a baby that could kill her. Besides the fact they really should have talked about this before trying for a baby given Rhys is mixed race (Cassian and Nesta too, but that’s a whole other post), Rhys claims a sense of ownership over his wife and child almost immediately. He’s constantly being described as smug and glowing with male pride. Even when he’s not smarmy, he’s consumed with his own ideas about protecting them and can’t hear the protests of others. We see his anxiety morph into more overt control in attempt to handle the situation. He believes he’s justified in keeping the danger from Feyre because he doesn’t want to stress her out. But that is not about Feyre, that’s about Rhys. HE is scared, HE is lost, and so he makes a decision on her behalf to lessen the burden he’s already carrying, whether he’s aware of it or not. He must keep her in a happy bubble else how is he supposed to go on.

Don’t Worry, Darling is at least critical of this ‘I know better’ motive even if the movie is stupid, and Harry Styles gets some frontier justice in the form of a whiskey glass to the back of the dome. But ACOSF condones Rhys’ actions and even insinuates our main character is deserving of death for calling him out. Bancroft writes that “part of how the abuser escapes confronting himself is by convincing you that you are the cause of his behavior”. He wouldn’t HAVE to do this if you just TRUSTED HIM.

But here’s what I think. I think Rhys has walked down a path of using his relationship to balance his internal conflict. Anxiety is a force in every relationship, but with Feyre he must maintain her beautiful life where she never worries in order to feel safe himself. I can have empathy for this, kind of - he’s suffered significant losses and it’s understandable he feels protective of those he loves. I think about celebrities with non-famous spouses, and how they avoid talking about them because they don’t want the scrutiny. I believe Rhys thinks he’s genuinely doing right by Feyre. But Rhys is so averse to his own anxiety that he can’t let himself trust anyone else to resolve it. He can’t let go of Feyre as his safe space and almost condemns her to die because of it.

And this is how, ultimately, Rhys traps himself. He tries to create a bubble where Feyre can never leave him, and ends up signing both their death warrants. I hope the world of fan fiction can redeem him, because I really don’t think Sarah can.

And yes, I know it’s faerie porn and it’s not that deep. But this is a series marketed toward an audience at risk of abuse and intimate partner violence. Bancroft lays out key points at the end of the book that feel particularly relevant to the larger conversation:

“Once we tear the cover of excuses, distortions, and manipulations off abusers, they suddenly find abuse much harder to get away with.

If Mothers Against Drunk Driving can change culture’s indifference to alcohol-related automotive deaths, we can change culture’s attitude toward partner abuse.

Everyone has a role to play in ending abuse.

If you are trying to assist an abused woman, get help and support yourself as well

All forms of chronic mistreatment in the world are interwoven. When we take one apart, all the rest start to unravel as well.”

Why Does He Do That? , Lundy Bancroft. https://ia800108.us.archive.org/30/items/LundyWhyDoesHeDoThat/Lundy_Why-does-he-do-that.pdf

[captain-mj]

HII, first of all I just wanna say that I love your fics, and then could please post something about wolfshifter au?👉👈🥺🥺 It's my favorite one, I love it

CW for... a lot man honestly. Sexual abuse. References to reproductive rights/the taking away of reproductive rights

Previous parts

Ghost fell asleep with his head in Soap’s lap. The sun was still shining so bright on both of them and the smell of the honeysuckle lingered on their hands. 

“Hey Johnny.”

Well, Soap thought he was asleep. His eyes stayed closed. 

“Yeah, Simon?”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

Soap pet his hair gently, mulling over the words. He could answer that this was his job and while that was definitely true, Simon also definitely got special treatment from him. Not once in the years he’d be working in this job had he ever, ever taken someone home. 

“I don’t know. Guess I just think you deserve it.”

“Sappy.” Ghost opened his eyes. Chocolate brown eyes stared at him. “You’re so sappy. All the time.” 

Soap frowned. “I am not!”

“Kinda are.” Ghost sat up and leaned into him. “That’s okay though. I like it about you. How… soft and squishy your insides are.” He smiled at him. 

Soap flushed. “You’re weirdly romantic for someone who hasn’t talked for a while.”

Ghost looked around to check to see if anyone else was nearby. “They always had romance movies playing at one of the places. Shitty hallmark level ones. All in Spanish, but I picked up things.” He smiled, tilting his head. 

Soap wanted to kiss him. Instead, he followed behind him. 

Ghost walked funny. A tiny bit lopsided. Soap wondered if he had a limp or something that he had been hiding or if that was just his natural gait. He grabbed on to Ghost’s arm and they walked in tune. 

After the park, Ghost seemed a little brighter. He sat up in the car and looked out the window, showing interest in the things that passed by. 

Soap thought he was gorgeous. Regardless, they could not stay out all day. He brought Ghost home and made him more food. 

“So… you mentioned some things that I’m curious about.” He kept his tone light, not wanting to send Ghost on the defensive. 

Ghost looked up, tilting his head. “Yes?”

“You mentioned that when you were being rewarded, you got more control, right?”

“Yes.”

“And when you were being punished, you got less control?” 

Ghost frowned. He didn’t get why Soap was reiterating this so much. Soap was smart, Ghost had no doubt he grasped the concept just fine, so he didn’t get why he seemed so baffled. “Yes. They’d tie me up and let women use me. Sometimes I wonder if I have any kids.”

“Kids?” Soap stared at him, eyes wide. 

Ghost shrugged. “Makes sense. Take two wolves and shove them together. Get better fighters.” It was logical. 

Soap went to the bathroom and retched. Ghost followed and rubbed his back gently, not understanding such an extreme reaction. He didn’t understand why Soap let out a sob. Why he cradled his face so gentle and started to promise it wouldn’t happen again. 

“I’m never ever going to let anyone do anything like that again. I promise. I’m going to keep you safe.” 

Ghost frowned and pulled Soap closer. “You don’t have to keep me safe. I’m your guard do-”

Soap kissed him softly and pulled him in closer. Cradled his face and dotted kisses all over his face once he had gotten his fill of Ghost’s lips. “No. You’re not. Not anymore. You’re not anyone’s guard dog. Not anyone’s dog at all.” He was just so upset. 

Ghost picked him up and carried him easily. He made Soap drink some water and decided he didn’t need the reward he was promised. Johnny was a good enough reward. 

“You’re a person. A very good person.” Soap pressed into him. 

“Johnny.” Ghost started, very gently. “Is it bad, if I don’t feel like a person?”

“Not at all. We’ll get there.”

“What if I never feel like a person? What if I always feel like an animal? What if I can’t be what you’re expecting?”

Soap paused, having to actually think about that. It was a fair question. If he denied it was a possibility, it could be stressful. And regardless of what recovery would look like for Ghost, he needed reassurance now. 

“I’ll still care for you regardless.”

“You own me then. That makes sense. Why isn’t that… good enough?”

Soap tried to think of how to impress upon Ghost that wasn’t… right. It wasn’t okay. “Okay. Remember when you said you own me and I own you?”

Ghost nodded.

“See, we’re… partners. It’s now ownership, just, I care about you and you care about me.” 

Something about that bothered him. “But… I want to own you. I don’t want anyone else to.” 

Soap blushed brightly. “What exactly do you want no one else to do?”

“Touch you. I don’t want to share anymore. I want you to be mine.” 

“Well, then we can arrange that. It’s part of being partners.” 

That seemed to satisfy something in Ghost. “Fine. If you prefer we act as partners instead, we can. But I really don’t think you should trust me as easily. I’m violent. Bad. Feral.”

Soap shook his head. “One day, I’ll get those nasty thoughts out of your head. Until then, just know I do trust you though. And that we should eat.” 

Ghost quickly went to check on the food, happy to see that before Soap ran off to the bathroom, he had turned it off. He watched Soap, making sure he ate first and then he dragged him to bed and let himself be cuddled to sleep. 

Soap though did not sleep. As soon as he was convinced Ghost wouldn’t snap back awake, he went to the balcony and called Price, lighting a cigarette. He spilled everything and even over the phone, he could feel Price’s distaste. 

“How did you find this out?”

“He’s shockingly open about it. I don’t think he quite gets how awful all of it is. He’s so secretive about certain things but with this, he’s an open book. Is there a way to find out if…”

“There were a couple of children according to their records, but obviously no fathers were put down. I’ll check into it. Did he give you anything we can use?”

Soap sighed. “No. Nothing we can use. I’m sorry, I’m just trying to treat him with kid gloves.”

“It’s understandable, Johnny. Take care of yourself here. He hasn’t done anything, has he?”

Soap felt the wound on his shoulder throb. “No. He hasn’t done anything.”

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

A.k.a the Eva Smith x Jack Nelson hunger games au

The story is pretty dark as there is no pg13 rating to keep me from going all the way as a play around with my blorbos in the Hunger Games universe

Cw: murder, trauma, underage drinking, sex trafficking, reproductive abuse, death, suicide, substance abuse and some sex

@justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings

Ao3 link

Part 1: Tribute

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Part 2: Victor

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Part 3: the Mentor

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Part 4: Rebel

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Moodboards:

Sun to Me

Best kept secret

Laurie

The Last Year

One-shots

No better name

Bit by bit

Odds

[princehendir]

Do you want to elaborate about the alice postpartum post 👉👈

Yeah actually. I kinda do!

[cw: mental health issues, emotional abuse, some gaslighting, implied reproductive coercion. Probably some other stuff.]

So. Alice spends most of Shaun's baby-hood feeling like he's Not Real, though she's not really able to articulate what exactly she means by that, as well being kind of generally aware that it's not true, despite the fact that it feels really really true. That's not a real baby, and if it is a real baby it's definitely not her baby. Which she knows isn't rational but can't quite shake.

She also off-and-on feels like she's Not Real, other people Aren't Real, the world isn't Real, etc. which she was already having a problem with during the pregnancy but it got worse after the birth. Lots of depersonalization/derealization issues. Some of it is definitely the hormones but the emotional manipulator husband who Gently Encouraged her to keep a baby she wasn't 100% sure about (among other things) definitely also contributed.

The pregnancy went very well physically though, despite her emotional/mental issues. And the fact that Nate keeps using the term "easy pregnancy" (we're so lucky!) is slowly turning her evil.

She also gets increasingly paranoid about Codsworth the longer he's in the house. Really convinced that he's Up To Something and either talking to the police about her or spying on her for Nate, who she thinks might have bought him for specifically that reason (it's unclear how plausible this actually is).

Paranoid in general also, after the birth. Like, is worried that the neighbors Know Things about her, that the police are coming any minute, that sort of thing. And unfortunately a lot of her paranoia isn't fully without basis. She & Nate are very much living under stolen identities because they have warrants out. And Nate is kind of getting too into/overselling his whole "I'm a veteran" thing (he's not, to be clear) and there's genuine reason to worry that he might get cocky and blow their cover. So this is the stuff that's hardest for her to manage while she's trying to get her stuff together enough to get out.

(If I never mentioned this, part of her whole deal is that the day the bombs dropped was also the day she was planning on leaving him and starting over on the west coast. Like she had this whole thing worked out where she was going to slip out while he was giving his little speech at the Veterans Hall (which again, insane & ill-advised thing to do given that he's not actually a veteran and living under a stolen identity, but we don't need to go into all that rn) and get in her car and just start driving. Shaun was not actually part of this plan until like two days before, when she decided that it felt morally weird to her to abandon a baby even if it still didn't really feel like Her Baby.)

(The paranoia actually ends up fucking this plan up for her. She freaks herself out and tries to leave early because she thinks Nate's onto her (he isn't) and then he catches her packing a bag and finally figures out what's going on. They're actively fighting in the nursery and he's trying to prevent her from leaving when the news alert comes on about the bombs. In a weird irony, the war starting when it did was kind of lucky for her, because we were hitting "this is about to escalate, worried neighbors are calling 911" around that point and I'm not really sure what would've happened otherwise.)

Also, on the subject of Nate, she does start to think about killing him a lot. Which, to be fair, she also thinks about when she's more lucid (normal side effect of Nate exposure imo) but for a while there it definitely falls more on the "violent intrusive thoughts/violent impulses" end of the scale than the "morally bad but rational murder fantasy" one. This is actually what spurs her into working on an exit plan, it was either leaving or murder, and one of those is slightly easier to get away with.

She's doing a lot better during the main part of fo4, which is nice. But the fact that she was unwell & not really able to bond with Shaun when he was a baby really contributes to a lot of how she handles the main plotline. She doesn't feel as strongly about what happened as she thinks* she should, and she's not really sure what to do about that. Lying about how much she misses her baby feels wrong, but being honest feels a lot worse.

*thinks that other people think?