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theprettynosferatu · 7 months

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One would think once the heart has beat its last and everything grows gray, when year by year, decade by decade emotions dull and what was once vibrant feels so far away, that tedium would also have the decency to become muted, a shadow of the real feeling. Belladonna was very aware of the fact that, of all things, tedium was the one that remained. It’s just business, she told herself as she flashed a carefully measured smile. Not too inviting, not at all threatening: the perfect smile that seemed to say hey, I’m just like you, I’m on your side, so why not hear me out?

We’re all together in this. In this house. In this gated community. In this business. In this world inside the world, away from the day to day of hundreds of thousands of schmucks that had no idea how reality worked, of the value of handshakes and conversations in back rooms, of the dance secreted away from their sight. I’m one of you. You can trust me.

It worked. Of course it did. Belladonna had practiced it, perfected it. She wore a thousand faces like so many dresses. Everyone wore masks, of course: at the office, at home, in bed with a lover… but only a handful of beings in the city truly knew the importance of a pleasant, believable deception. Only a few beings knew their survival depended on it, not just their prosperity. Only a few dead glided among the living.

She shook the man’s hand. Her servants could finalize the legal details. She politely declined a platter of pastries being offered by some anonymous waiter. She had what she had come for, and yet she had to stay, to keep up appearances. Such banalities were unbearable. In another age she would have killed the time luxurying in the looks of the men and women around her, in their barely concealed desire. Her dress was certainly one that called the eye, and she was well aware of the effect her long, red hair and her pale, smooth skin had on the cattle; but now she saw sex for what it was: just another tool in her extensive arsenal. Too much attention was a danger all in itself, and toying with people could lead to unexpected and unwelcome attachments. She was older now. Wiser.

Belladonna wished others of the kind understood things like she did.

Something was off, however. Sure, she wasn’t courting attention but some degree of fawning was inevitable. And yet, on that night, eyes weren’t on her. Interesting. Who, she wondered, could be stealing the light?

Ah, a latecomer. Belladonna looked for a secluded spot. Peoplewatching was as good a way to while away the dull hours as any other, and much safer than some.

A few things stood out immediately. Belladonna couldn’t quite put her finger on a certain… air. The young woman had a way of moving, a manner of holding the gaze of everyone around her, both seductive and challenging, almost like she knew herself to be a prize that only the very best could win. Her dress certainly was a calculated affair: classy, perfectly tailored, without a single detail left to chance, even in those moments where a less educated mind could believe it saw an accidental flash of thigh. Nothing about this woman was accidental. But no matter how carefully she wore her mask, Belladonna had decades of experience ready to pierce it.

Poor foolish men, groveling around the newcomer. They couldn’t know, of course. The brunette beauty did a marvelous job hiding it, but to Belladonna she might as well have been wearing a neon sign. This woman was not interested in men, unlike her companion. Oh, silly man, trying so hard to feign attraction, to posture as what some idiots called an “alpha male”, to show off the beauty hanging on his arm. Absolutely pathetic. Even if some could not see his true self, anyone could realize that next to her, he was completely, hopelessly outclassed.

Intriguing. Something to burn a few hours on, at least. Such things came rarely enough, and were not to be wasted. Belladonna moved slightly to catch the ensuing conversation.

It took her less than five minutes to map out the dynamic. This girl was good. Suspiciously good. The men were like silly peacocks, trying oh so hard to impress her, to be worthy of her attention, to earn a look, perhaps even a word or, in very measured cases, a slight smile. And in trying to impress her they bragged. They spoke and spoke and soon weren’t measuring their words, letting small morsels of information drop at her feet, like offerings before a goddess. That much was common enough- many men, in her experience, were often eager to worship, to cast away the role of masters of the universe to bow and be stepped on. No, what was remarkable was her reaction.

She was training them.

The brunette rewarded information with tilts of her beautiful head, with a sidelong glance, with a hint of a smile. She punished obvious tall tales with indifference. And all the men around her were wrapped around her fingers, dancing for her without even knowing they were being drained slowly, skillfully, hoping against hope for a treasure they would never, ever lay their sweaty hands on. Like conditioned dogs, they picked up on what worked and what didn’t, revealing more and more of themselves, of their supposed accomplishments, their deals, their holdings, their secrets.

It was beautiful.

One predator knew another. This woman was a predator, even if it wasn’t in the way Belladonna was a predator, which raised uncomfortable questions.

No one was that good without training. And Belladonna knew all the operators in Montevideo already, so this girl, with her pretty accent, was a newcomer. Not kindred. Maybe a ghoul? If so, whose? Belladonna quickly made an inventory of the players who could have imported a first-rate spy. “Could” was a long list. “Would”, however, was a much smaller category. The Montevideo Camarilla kept things local as much as possible. The city stood because it had been born and molded by the will and vigilance of the Prince, and she wouldn’t allow some outside actor to just wander into town.

Belladonna watched the unknown figure brush her hair under her ear and launch a look at a boy that might as well have been a nuclear strike. He would be spilling every dirty secret he had before the night was done, and she wouldn’t even let him lay a single finger on her smooth, pale skin. She would haunt his dreams for years to come, maybe for the rest of his life- and he would be, to her, another faceless, nameless mark.

Professional admiration aside, Belladonna knew she had a duty to her kind, to her sect, to the one that made her. Perhaps a little personal curiosity as well, but the point was clear. This woman could not go unwatched, but so far there wasn’t anything to throw up the chain, to the Prince or the Sheriff. It only made sense that Belladonna took on the issue herself.

She listened in for a second and heard it. Drusilla. The woman went by Drusilla.

Dru had only been at this particular elite social gathering for just under thirty minutes, and already she could tell that she’d been to dozens, maybe hundreds, just like it. She slid into the all-too-familiar rhythm.

The social elite here were just like the social elite back in the States: obsessed with appearances. It was therefore important that she kept up her own. That was, after all, why she was here. She was there with the son of some… corporate bigwig or other, as the poor boy’s date. She was on the job.

She had been hired by the boy’s mother to be seen accompanying him at numerous events and gatherings in order to hide the fact that he was, in fact, a homosexual. Such deceptions as that were child’s play to her. After all, had she not successfully hidden that fact about herself all these years?

Despite herself, she couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly as this thought crossed her mind. Indeed, even now, she had several men fawning over her for a chance at winning the privilege of her attention. A few of them, she could see, believed themselves capable of coaxing her into their beds that very night, the poor fools. They were so adorably pathetic.

It was in the midst of playing one particularly eager and foolish young heir to some such family empire, carefully filing away all the little details the loose-lipped idiot threw her way in the vain hope of impressing her, that she noticed the beautiful redhead in the room. Something didn’t add up, although she couldn’t say exactly what. The woman was somehow in the party and outside it, above it. She was holding down conversations, making everyone feel special, while also keeping an eye around, sometimes almost tilting her head as if she was listening to music only she could hear. Her mind was hard at work even as her smile, her gestures, her every movement entranced those around her. They would all feel as if they were the only one in the room to the redheaded woman, but Drusilla could tell her true attention was anywhere but on the gaggle of courtiers that had suddenly accumulated around her.

Who was this woman? Drusilla would have to do a bit of discrete digging.

“...a great patron of the arts…”

“...real estate, I believe…”

“...inherited lands in the countryside…”

It made no sense. Everyone seemed reluctant to talk about her, and everyone had their own theory of exactly what she did, who she was. Most of the men she had asked had given her a look of befuddled confusion, as if she was asking about the moon, or why the stars shone at night. This woman was a given to them, her presence not only expected but welcome, even if no one could articulate precisely why. In a world where everyone kept a mental folder about everyone else—if not a literal one—such fuzziness on the details, such a laissez-faire attitude was impossible to explain. If she was a player, and she clearly was, why was no one following her every move? How could someone be both a sun and a shadow?

Drusilla’s date gave her the signal. It was time to go. His social obligations fulfilled, he had no desire to spend one more second pretending. Dru faked relief, while silently lamenting the sudden stop to her real work, her discreet gathering of information. Well, at least she had gotten something valuable.

The redhead was named Belladonna.

Coming home felt, to Dru, like the clock had struck midnight and suddenly she was surrounded by pumpkins. Gone were the lights, the art, the beautiful dresses. As expected, Luis was loitering in her block. Old City was not her kind of place, but the social dynamics were simple to map out, and it had a certain code of honor. No one hurt someone from the barrio, unless gangs or drug deals were involved, and Luis was very firmly planted on the “user” side of the drug equation. She bitterly thought about that sort of proletarian chivalry: up there, in the world of big deals and luxury, no such rules were in place. Luis, reed-thin and almost shaking, asked her for the usual “whatever you can spare”. She felt a mixture of disgust and pity, seeing this man, this creature reduced to something that approached a human but didn’t quite get there. Pitiful, sure, but she didn’t intend to part with a single cent of her hard-earned money.

At least her apartment felt like something close to herself: an oasis of taste in a sea of gauche misery. What it lacked in location, it made up for in size. Still, it was only a stepping-stone. She had no intention of lingering in the lower bowels of this new city. In fact, doing some quick math, she felt she was a few events—or one big blackmail—away from ditching the apartment for something better suited to her status. At least she had a view of the sea—or rather, the port—through her bedroom window. The living room window, however, offered a different kind of entertainment, as it overlooked two competing drug houses. That window had been her education on the finer points of low-class diplomacy. She had studied the comings and goings, the relationships between the rival dealers, even the secret rendezvous that the sister of one dealer had with the cousin of the other, in some sort of crass parody of Romeo and Juliet. Amusing, but not worth the annoyance of their late-night music and occasional street fights. Dru couldn’t wait to get out.

She sat cross-legged on her bed. She closed her eyes and started her work: sorting names and faces, relationships both stated and hinted at by looks, body language, simultaneous absences from the party, errant comments. It was a detailed filing system that left no trace, no evidence. It existed only in her mind, blessed by an outstanding memory and years of diligent training. It was there, in the sifting of the information, that real gold could be found, if not now, then probably later, when just the right seemingly innocuous tidbit or rumor made everything fit together in the shape of a dagger to be wielded.

However, Dru found herself having a hard time focusing. She had no reason for the feeling, but she couldn’t shake it: that subtle, needling sensation on the back of her neck, as if she was being watched.

Belladonna slotted the SD card into her laptop. She hated this—hated feeling like a child, needing to learn the latest computer formats and lingo. She had always prided herself on not being one of those old timers that still marveled at the combustion engine, but lately… trying to follow technology was like trying to paint on a running river. She detested that culture seemed to be gathering the same mind-numbing speed. Fads and backlashes and the backlash to the backlash to the new normal just before a newer, shinier normal took hold. It was all a blur. Time used to be measured in decades. The twenties, the thirties, the forties: that made sense to her. Now, however… a year might as well be a decade, and anything five years before might as well be prehistory. It was darkly humorous: the efforts she was going through proved their own necessity.

She had called in too many favors in places too dark to admit she had done it for reasons beyond any rational interest. It had started as curiosity, sure, but it had quickly evolved into something else, something she couldn’t put a word to, almost like an echo of an emotion she would have felt long, long ago. Before she knew it, she had been building a case for this girl, had found herself rehearsing how she’d approach her own maker with the request to…

No. This needed to be played carefully. The risks were too great to rush it. And yet, she knew, deep down, that she was rushing. Every report, every video, every bit of intelligence her associates sent her reinforced the urgency of the matter. She needed Drusilla in her life– no, she needed her by her side. She watched the latest batch of videos, the captured phone conversations, the photographs. She read the hour-by-hour report of the girl’s activities. That the most interesting parts were not included was a testament to Drusilla’s potential value.

The girl never wrote anything down. To the creeps following her, she was just a particularly talented high-end escort. But Belladonna could tell there was a different game being played, a complex web of actions, seductions, smiles, relationships carefully monitored and calculated, all in her head. Even seemingly random encounters only furthered the girl’s goals. In two months she had moved up from the Old City to a respectable Downtown apartment. A stranger in a new land, she moved inside society with the deadly elegance of a shark on the hunt. Even when she did pull the trigger on a crucial piece of information, she didn’t outright say anything: the playful hint that she might know something, a choice of words, a smile was enough to make others act as if she had them in a vise—which she often did, even if she didn’t state it. It wasn’t just effective. It was elegant. Drusilla danced where others punched.

Her value was evident. But was she everything she seemed to be, or was Belladonna perhaps putting a bit too much of herself into her evaluation? She couldn’t say. Distance made everything less certain, and Belladonna had made it a point not to appear at any functions Drusilla would attend. Why? Another element that, if she looked at herself coldly, revealed that her own judgment was not to be trusted. She needed something more solid, a controlled, tangible proof of Drusilla’s talents.

What was needed, she decided, was a test.

It would be hard to engineer, and that only made it more interesting. Soon, Belladonna was smiling like she hadn’t done in decades.

In purely pragmatic terms, Dru didn’t have to attend the party. She had built her own network of confidants, fools, and lovestruck, pitiable people. Her new apartment was beautiful, and she kept collecting secrets, keeping them close like beautiful crystals in a necklace of opportunities. She only dropped one of those gems when she was absolutely sure it would lead to the right payoff, and her eye for openings was impeccable. Some members of the higher classes saw her as a charming conversation partner; others like something more akin to a friend; a few as an occasional paramour. She only liked women, of course, but every now and then she would take on a male client if the price was right and, more importantly, if the client moved in the right circles: it was in the small talk after they had their fun that the real rewards were hidden, and that made pretending to enjoy the act almost bearable. People tended to lower their guard after sex. Perhaps that was why she agreed to go to this latest party: even though she didn’t need to help the poor closeted man that had been her introduction to the hermetic world of the elite, she felt a pang of pity for him. She knew, after all, what it was to fake attraction to people and it was, in the best of cases, exhausting.

It was a smaller affair than she had expected, with fewer guests than usual and the luxury taken to an almost comical extreme. It bordered on being tacky, without actually crossing that invisible line of taste. Still, something felt slightly… off. She filed this fact away as she did all others. One never knew what seemingly useless observation would turn out to be the key that opened many doors.

There was one notable presence. Hovering on the margins, engaging as little as possible in the banality of the whole thing, was the woman. Belladonna. Drusilla hadn’t seen her for almost a year. Interesting.

Drusilla entered the battlefield with special zeal. Armed with smiles, furtive looks, seemingly innocuous questions, fake ignorance and the kind of looks that birthed dreams, Dru did some of her best work. She knew Belladonna was watching, and she wanted to impress this woman, this riddle at the center of so many webs, this seemingly invisible pillar of so many schemes, deals, falls from grace. Of course, that wasn’t the only reason. The redhead was alluring in a different way, one Dru couldn’t exactly name. It wasn’t just aesthetic attraction, although that certainly was part of it– it wasn’t even desire, exactly. Whatever it was, however, felt overwhelming. As much as Drusilla knew she was performing, it felt too good to stop. There was an element of dance, of theater, of the peculiar joy that came with knowing the eyes of someone fascinating were on her.

It was when the party was winding down and a few guests had excused themselves that a nondescript man in a suit approached Drusilla. One look told her all she needed to know: this man was dressed to blend in, his expression unreadable, his movements designed to deflect attention away from himself. He was one of those invisible men that often worked as the hands and mouths of the truly powerful.

“You are cordially invited to a drink in the study,” he said. He didn’t need to say who issued the invitation. Drusilla’s heart skipped a beat. Finally.

She followed the man through a few hallways, beyond doors once locked, now opening for her. Soon she found herself in a room lit entirely by the silver moonlight entering the window.

Drusilla’s body froze. There was a maelstrom of contradictions raging inside her. The alabaster beauty in a black dress, her legs crossed, her green eyes seemingly glowing in the penumbra, called to her, told her without a word that this was a good thing, that everything was okay, that everything would always be okay. And yet another part of her, a lower part deep down in her lizard brain, screamed for her to flee, to seek shelter, to get out immediately and never look back. She found herself trapped between two opposing impulses, and she felt something like loathing towards her own fear. Hers was a world of beauty and strategy, of calculation and play: the panic in the pit of her stomach felt to her like the bestial intrusion of instincts she had no intention to acknowledge. Then Belladonna smiled, and the fear was washed away like so much dirt during a cool spring rain. She almost laughed at her own fear, so silly when contrasted with the calling of that smile, those gestures, those deep, green eyes.

“Drusilla, it is such a pleasure to be able to speak with you. Please, make yourself comfortable. We should have done this sooner!”

“Thank you. Belladonna, right? I’ve heard so much about you!”

Not the most elegant start, but it would do. Dru felt the heat on her cheeks and knew she was blushing. She sat across from Belladonna and suddenly felt slightly self-conscious. It was alien to her, but looking at this woman, her poise, her almost perfect stillness and class only made her every movement feel superfluous, fidgety, clumsy.

“Quite a motley crew our host has gathered tonight, don’t you think?”, said Belladonna.

“It’s certainly a very interesting group.”

“Interesting? Good choice of words. Agreeing with me without revealing any true feelings about your fellow guests. But surely you must have more to say than that. After all, you were quite the social butterfly out there tonight.”

Drusilla felt a strange sort of relief. This was a player talking to another player, not a mark to be fooled. It felt invigorating to sense someone seeing the world through the same lens she did. It also felt like a challenge, an invigorating bit of sport. Might as well throw up a big flare, raise the stakes.

“Oh, I’m a bit tired. Many stimulating conversations. And your hand must be tired as well.”

And there it was, just for a second, a flash cracking through the mask. It wasn’t quite a smile, but Belladonna’s expression had spoken volumes. She was taken aback by Dru’s boldness, and delighted by the surprise.

“My hand? What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems to me directing the whole choreography is more tiring than just being another dancer. And your hand… small gestures, but they relayed their messages well enough. People suddenly excused themselves to leave room for new conversation partners, dull men introduced this guest to that guest, a waiter interrupted a talk at just the right time… all because of those seemingly innocuous, subtle hand gestures.”

“Fascinating theory. But this isn’t even my party.”

“True. But whose party did we attend? Our dear host welcomed the guests, gave a rather lackluster toast to all present… and then might as well have vanished. His demeanor was not that of a man comfortable with his surroundings. Indeed, it felt as if he barely knew any of the guests, let alone enjoy the company of anyone there. Nor was he shaking hands and making deals. He was adrift. Whoever crafted the guest list, it certainly wasn’t him.”

“I see…”

“And then there’s the matter of the decor, the menu, the whole aesthetic dimension.”

“Oh?”

“It was tasteful… and it wasn’t. It went almost too far, to the point that I gather some people might find the symbols of prosperity a tad… gauche. But it didn’t go far enough to be an aesthetic choice, it wasn’t decadentist but it wasn’t measured. It was a party at odds with itself. Like a painting with two radically different authors. If I had to guess, I’d say you found yourself in a conundrum. It had to look enough like it was his party, but he is, at heart, a man devoid of good taste. You couldn’t abide by all his choices and added some measured class to what, I suspect, would have been a gold plated monument to excess. He had to be the face of the party, the name on the invitation. But it wasn’t truly his event. It was yours.”

Belladonna threw up her hands and smiled, the rehearsed gestures of a child caught in mischief.

“Guilty. I can’t throw my own parties, I’m afraid. Too many people get offended if I don’t invite them, or scrutinize the guest list to glean what my future… endeavors might be. I must say, I’m quite impressed, Drusilla. I see your socializing was indeed time well spent. I trust, of course, that you’ll keep this little fact between us–”

“I’m terribly sorry, but… I wasn’t done.”

“Oh? Did you manage to find some more tasty secrets?”

“Too many, in fact.”

“Too many? What do you mean?”

Drusilla took a deep breath. Time to go all in.

“Let me tell you what I don’t get. Why would you invite the head of the company that got the license to repair the toll roads and his former business partner, whom he stabbed in the back? Not to mention that partner’s secret lover, who in turn had to share the party with her former friend from university, who also happens to be the one person that knows about her bisexuality? And why was that friend’s former professor present, who just so happened to have slept with her while she was her student? And why was that professor’s wife present when she is putting on a brave face despite her secret illness? And speaking of illness, it appears you invited the doctor who misdiagnosed her five years ago, costing her valuable time. And the lawyer who managed to bury that same doctor’s malpractice accusations. Not to mention the one man who was, as far as I can tell, an intelligence officer. Now, I didn’t learn all this tonight. I did my research beforehand, and had many of my suspicions confirmed by their words, their looks, their silences. But like I said, too many secrets. What are the odds that such a concentration of betrayals and shadows would happen naturally? Close to zero, I would say. No, the guest list was curated… but why? Why would you create this… nexus of threads?”

Belladonna’s face seemed like a statue’s. Not a hint of emotion.

“You know why.”

“I don’t. I mean, surely…”

“Just say it. Your instinct is correct.”

“It was for me. A puzzle. A chess riddle with living pieces.”

Belladonna rose to her feet. Somehow, she appeared taller than she was. She seemed regal, intimidating and strangely comforting in her expression. She gently put her cold hand on Dru’s cheek.

“So beautiful… so full of potential… so… now.”

Drusilla felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn’t just how cold the goddess’ hand was. There was fear and a strange, deep longing she couldn’t entirely comprehend, and something else, something she had been trying to hold back since the moment she had first entered the room. Desire. Her body wouldn’t be denied any longer, and Dru had to make a titanic effort to keep from squirming. When Belladonna sat beside her, Drusilla felt every inch of her skin screaming for more of that cold touch, begging to be taken.

“You were right, of course. I needed to be sure, you understand.”

“Sure? Sure of what?”

“That you are all I thought you were. Oh, and you are. All I believed and so much more… Ah, but I’m rambling. My apologies. What I mean to say is you have so much potential, and you are doing so, so well… On a rather limited stage. But you can feel it, can’t you? You are ready for more. You know it somewhere deep inside you: there’s something else out there. In the shadows. And I might be mistaken, but… you don’t have to do it to survive. The gathering of information, the deductions, the seduction. You could just be an escort. But you need to do it. It’s more than your livelihood. It’s part of who you are. You enjoy it. You like knowing, and holding that knowledge like a weapon, even if you rarely use it. You feel that power… intimately.”

Dru felt naked. Vulnerable in a way that normally would make her panic. But Belladonna’s tone was… gentle. Genuine. There was no judgment there, no self-interest, not even a slight hint of malice. Drusilla was being seen, truly; and for the first time, she wanted it. She felt something odd, something she hadn’t realized she needed before. She felt less lonely. She felt dazed, desired, intrigued.

“What do you mean, a… what was it? A limited stage?”

Belladonna looked down.

“Ah. That… You are ready to see the grander game. But to do so… you need to trust me. I know you’re just made for it. And all will be worth it in the end. Do you think you can trust me to guide you?”

It was phrased as a question, but to Drusilla it was everything but one. It was a certainty. She could trust this woman. She wanted to trust her, to believe her, to be guided by her. She could sense a truth behind the words, vague as they may have been. Beyond that, there was no way she could even think of denying the woman anything. Not when her green eyes were on her, not when they were so close that she should have been feeling her breath on her face. She needed to follow her, no matter where the path led. The destination would be worth it. Belladonna had said so. Words failed Drusilla, and she noticed she had forgotten to breathe. Instead, she nodded. Yes. Yes. She would give in. She would follow, heart and soul.

The kiss was inevitable, predictable as a hurricane slowly moving to shore and no less powerful. Belladonna’s lips were suddenly warm, and the world around them faded like a castle of sand caught in a storm. Dru couldn’t tell where she ended and the perfect woman began. They felt as one, as if Belladonna’s inexplicable brilliance was inside her, reflected by her, filling every inch of her. She felt loved and desired, seen and contained, safe and wild in a frenzy of freedom she had long denied herself. There was no need to hide, no need to pretend. No masks, no witty deflections, no artifice. She was at once on fire and perfectly still, like a star in the night sky. She was the center of Belladonna’s universe, and Belladonna’s body was the one guiding point, the place she had always craved without knowing, the home she had always been meant to return to.

Their hands explored each other, setting skin ablaze with each touch, with every gentle brush of their fingertips. Drusilla’s ideas of the power of independence evaporated in an instant. Companionship. Sharing. Support. Their value asserted itself as Belladonna moved down her body, kissing her neck, her clavicles, her breasts. Drusilla felt every kiss as a gift and a reward. Part of her knew she didn’t deserve to be treated as a queen by this goddess; part of her felt it was her due, her right, the just compensation for her beauty, her skill, the many, many nights of hard work. When Belladonna went on her knees and kissed her legs, Drusilla felt at once like a sovereign and a servant. She nodded, an unspoken agreement between them. Yes, you can go higher.

It was like being caressed by silk. Belladonna went slowly, savoring every inch of Dru’s skin, playfully kissing, nibbling, licking. Even on her knees, she exuded power, and Drusilla’s body was like a musical instrument played by a master. No matter how much Dru wanted to scream, to beg for Belladonna to go faster, higher, to quench the need between her legs, the woman kept teasing her, denying her, keeping her in the most beautiful of agonies.

Then came the sting, right on the inside of her right thigh. It lasted barely a whimper, and everything changed. Drusilla had never partaken in drug use, but she felt the way she imagined the best heroin might make her feel. She was both floaty and perfectly aware, enveloped by a sense of intimacy deeper than anything she had ever experienced before. She felt Belladonna deep inside her, and herself fading into her, a welcome dissolution of the self into something greater. There was no her, not really. There was only the peace and pleasure of a comforting us. Every sensation was shared, every possible wall shattered. She drifted in that oneness, letting go of her vanity, her pride, her loneliness. If all were one under God’s gaze, then Dru felt she had found her private heaven, with a beautiful divinity all for herself. She felt special, chosen, valued… and also ravaged, taken, conquered. And it all felt simply right, almost obvious. This was what she existed for.

When it stopped, Dru felt like a newborn being torn from her mother’s arms. She also felt faint. Dizzy. Barely holding on to life. And still, if that sensation had been a herald of death, it was death she desired more than anything.

Belladonna looked different. Flush with life. Calm, yet concerned.

“Drusilla… stay with me. Don’t let yourself drift off,” she commanded. With a graceful gesture, Belladonna opened a small cut on her own breast. She put Drusilla’s head on her lap and leaned over her, the bright red wound right over the brunette’s face.

“Now drink,” she said.

And Drusilla did.

She suckled on that breast and her body tensed up, suddenly invigorated by a red, golden light. The Universe shrank down to a single, perfectly brilliant point. Everything else was out of focus, irrelevant. Where once death had taken a slothful hold, life, or something like it, coursed like lightning. It was more than intoxicating. It was necessary. Vital. All that could ever matter, all that could ever hold any value. Power, beauty, success… they were pale imitations of the sheer overwhelming sensation of complete dominion over the fundamental power of existence itself.

But this too had to end. Belladonna, firmly but gently, pulled back and held Drusilla tight. She knew what would come.

Pain.

It would have been too much, if not for Belladonna’s embrace and her words; words Drusilla couldn’t comprehend but reached her somewhere deep in her chest, as if from another world. In the comfort of her arms, Drusilla felt she could endure this… whatever it was. She could endure anything.

And so it was that Drusilla died.

Then, she opened her eyes.

It was like she was seeing for the first time, as if she could now hear a music she had been deaf to, notice a color invisible to her before. Only then was she truly aware of Belladonna’s true beauty, of the dance-like grace of her every movement, the real hue of her deep eyes, which held galaxies within them. It was almost enough to distract her from the hunger. Belladonna made a quick call while Drusilla looked around herself, taking in the real perfect aesthetics of the room. She barely noticed she was shaking.

Belladonna held her hand.

“Don’t be afraid. Sustenance is coming,” she said. “Welcome to the grand stage,” she added with a smile. Drusilla couldn’t help but smile back.

When a servant walked in, veins coursing with blood, heart loud as a drum, Belladonna gave her a reassuring squeeze. Drusilla smiled a new smile, the smile of a predator.

She knew exactly what she had to do.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

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eunxhan · 3 months

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❝ Despite all the difficulties, I have grown to care about you in a way I never expected to. ❞

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Ꮺ 🗝️ Anon Requested ⨾ OHHMIGOSHSHHHHH HI!! i love your blog so far, and its just so cool!!/srs/gen i was wondering if u could write anything for masky? idk if u do marble hornets but i noticed u write 4 creepypasta!! IF YOU DONT YOU CAN DELETE THIS ASK!!!! if you would like me to be more specific, i was wondering about a male reader who is a proxy..? :3 hi this is the anon that asked for the masky w proxy reader!!! i ws wondering if i could go by 🗝️ anon? SORRY I FORGOT IN THE ASK

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ I love how cheery you are and I appreciate the kind words, I've been trying my best ^^. Ah yes, I do write for Marble Hornets and i was planning on expanding for what fandoms i write in. I did have some errors because of how i wanted Masky to be Canon as much as possible. I apologize if i made him ooc, i barely remember the actual lore. I hope you do enjoy my works.

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Ꮺ Disclaimer — I do not condone this kind of behavior in real life situations. Might be out of character, I apologize it might be random. English is not my main!

Reader & Genre ⨾ MALE!PROXY!reader, can be romantic or platonic.

Words used ⨾ 10,000+ ( 27 headcanons )

Character ⨾ MASKY ( TIMOTHY "TIM" WRIGHT )

Links ⨾ My Navigation and Mandates

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FIRST MEETING —

Masky from marble hornets encountered a new male proxy, he would likely react with extreme suspicion and caution.

Masky would have a very strong protective and possessive attachment to the current male he is bonded to, and would view anyone else as an unwelcome intruder and threat.

Masky's reaction would likely be more reserved and guarded towards the new proxy. He would still feel protective and possessive towards the current proxy, He would likely just observe the new proxy's behavior and attitude, and would attempt to get a read on their intentions before deciding what level of caution and suspicion he should have towards them.

He would likely have a more calm and neutral reaction. He would likely still be somewhat suspicious and cautious of the newcomer, but would not likely view them with much aggression or hostility. Masky would likely act cautiously and reserve judgement until he actually got to know the new proxy, and would not likely act aggressively or violently without reason.

Timothy's backstory has made him very guarded and paranoid, making it natural for him to be suspicious and cautious of other people's intentions. However, he has still developed some affection and fondness for the group, feeling somewhat close to them but still keeping some distance and mistrust towards them.

His initial reaction would be one of suspicion and distrust. He would likely sense there is something special, unique or different about this new male, and would feel wary and unsettled by this fact.

However, the new male's personality and friendly interactions would also likely intrigue Timothy and make him feel somewhat attracted to him. Over time, Timothy's suspicions and mistrust would likely lessen, and he would begin to develop an attachment and fondness for the new male. He would likely begin to feel protective and possessive over the new male as well.

FIRST INTERACTION —

If the two were forced to have a first interaction and to work together, it would likely be quite awkward and tense. Masky would likely be very reserved and guarded, and not be very willing to engage in any type of interactions or small talk. The new male proxy would likely find this interaction quite uncomfortable and awkward, and may feel frustrated and irritated at Masky's non-responsiveness and guardedness. This interaction would likely not go too well, with little communication between the two.

Masky might even try to convince the group to not include the new male proxy in their assignments or tasks, but would find it difficult to justify not having them join the group without revealing his true and possessive feelings towards the group. Overall, Masky would likely be quite distant and aloof towards the new male proxy, refusing to engage in any form of small talk or interaction.

If the new male proxy happens to be talkative, this would likely frustrate and irritate Masky even more than having to interact with a new person already would. Masky would likely feel overwhelmed and irritable at the new proxy's attempts at communication and small talk.

Outside, Masky and the new male proxy would probably mostly avoid each other.

Masky would try to keep to himself and not engage with the male proxy unless absolutely necessary. The male would likely find this attitude quite frustrating, feeling pushed away and ignored. Masky only responding to them with minimal replies and refusing to engage in any type of long conversations. The two would likely keep to themselves and avoid interaction with each other unless they had to work together again.

Masky would not trust the new proxy to watch his back or back him up in case of conflict while on missions or outside of them. He would rather stick to himself and rely solely on his own skills and abilities.

Masky would not be inclined to share his thoughts or feelings with the new proxy, seeing them as someone who he only has to work with and does not want to get close to on a personal level.

Little by little, the two would likely become somewhat used to the presence of each other. The new proxy would likely become used to Masky's aloofness and detached nature, and likely learn how to read his subtle cues and body language. Masky would also be somewhat familiarized with the new proxy's talkative and energetic nature, and would learn to anticipate and prepare mentally for the possibility of such interaction. Despite their one-sided conversations, the two would likely become used to each other's presence, though their conversations would still remain largely one-sided.

Masky would likely react with frustration and irritation to the male proxy acting as if he was just any normal person, despite having such a dangerous job under slenderman.

Masky would feel his own importance and role being diminished and not given the respect it deserves, and would probably be upset that the new proxy does not understand or recognize the challenges they face.

Masky would likely act in a dismissive and detached manner towards the new proxy, feeling frustrated and annoyed at his lack of understanding and respect for their situation.

People would likely feel intrigued and perhaps also a bit suspicious of the dynamic between Masky and the new male proxy. The others would likely notice how close Masky is to the male proxy, and would wonder why he is always right behind him or holding onto him in such a possessive manner.

Some would likely joke and make fun of Masky for seemingly needing to watch over and protect the male proxy, while others would feel slightly unnerved by the intensity of his protectiveness. Either way, their dynamic would likely raise some eyebrows and cause some speculations among people.

Masky would likely treat the male with somewhat indifference and detachment, though he would also be very territorial and protective of him, being constantly by his side and acting as his shield in case anyone tries to come near. Masky would likely only interact with the proxy if it was ABSOLUTELY necessary, and even then, he would keep his interactions short and to the point. He would not like forming any kind of friendship with the new male proxy despite having to work with them. He would see the man as just an associate and nothing more.

If the male proxy becomes comfortable around Masky by small things like sleeping on him and being in close physical proximity with him, Masky would likely feel slightly unsettled and uncomfortable. He would not be used to such closeness and familiarity with anyone outside of the core group, and would likely feel awkward and irritated by the man's actions. He would also not like the feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that the male proxy's closeness and intimacy would cause him to feel.

If others grab the new male's attention, Masky would likely show off his behavior by trying to constantly position himself between the male and others. He would likely make it a point to be as close with the male as possible, and would use his body as a shield to block or push away anyone who tries to approach the new male proxy.

Masky would likely try his best to not show it or act too aggressive about it. He would likely just make passive and casual remarks that would signal his frustration without revealing the full extent of his feelings. Some examples: "Oh, you're so popular" or "Everyone seems to be so interested in you".

Masky would likely find it irritating that the new male is not noticing or appreciating his efforts to shield the new male proxy from others. He'll probably start making slightly angrier and more aggressive remarks at the new male proxy, in an attempt to get them to focus their attention on him instead.

Masky and the new male proxy get closer, Masky's behavior towards the new male proxy would shift slightly. Starting to show a bit more warmth and friendliness towards the male proxy, as he starts to trust him more and feel more confident in their relationship.

Masky would also become more protective of the new male proxy and would be more likely to stand up for him or defend him against others. Masky would likely still be somewhat distant and aloof at times but would overall become more caring and considerate towards him.

Masky would also be very uneasy and distrustful if he catches the new male proxy being too friendly with other proxies or people outside the group.

Masky would feel slightly threatened if the new male proxy became close with other members of the group.

Masky and the new male get closer, Masky's behavior towards the new male proxy would shift slightly. He'll start showing a bit more warmth and friendliness towards the new male proxy, as he starts to trust him more and feel more confident in their relationship.

Masky would also become more protective of the male and would be more likely to stand up for him or defend him against others. He likely still be somewhat distant and aloof at times but would overall become more caring and considerate towards him.

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Ꮺ ⨾ I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED.

#Eun.writes #Eun.asks #Eun.🗝️#marbel hornets #marble hornets x reader #marble hornets masky #masky x reader #masky x you #masky x male reader #male reader #creepypasta #creepypasta masky #ftm reader #my balls are so scared of fans who might attack me for ooc

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trainingdummyrabbit · 5 months

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okok this took longer than i thought but :] funy fan abno time. LOTS of stuff under the cut, lets go <33

> Whispers of Another Life // O-01-19 // WAW

(I feel it, I feel it-- Can't you hear the horizon calling?)

The ever-present pull of a place you don't know, but desperately need to be. Misplacement and loneliness. The siren's song of a stranger you so badly wish to return to.

Its body is made of a series of collage pieces, each bearing a different artistic style. It has a set of cartoon wings that are naught but a scribbled outline, unsteady but with purpose. In stead of facial features, its face is obscured by what seems to be a messy pencil scratch. It twitches and changes frequently, as if trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle. It can never seem to find the right combination.

(Most to least unstable: hands/wings/mask -> limbs/head -> torso/shape.)

Low Q Counter. Work types Best to Worst:

- Repression ++

(Quelling its desire to search provides a grounding effect, preventing it from growing out of control.)

- Attachment +

(Having something to fill the gaps helps to keep it level, but it can never truly replace what it is looking for.)

- Instinct -

(It tolerates this type of work, but it does nothing to address its nature.)

- Insight --

(Trying to understand or bring out its essence simply destabilizes it further.)

Capable of breaching-- it changes form to become much less humanoid when doing so. While dangerous, it doesn't ever actively attack employees. Rather, it deals passive white damage to anyone in the same corridor as it, as its emotions overflow and tamper with the physicality of its immediate surroundings. It's more of a loss of control than a rampage. It wanders for an exit it can never find, and becomes more and more unstable as it goes. If left unattended, its passive damage steadily increases. It has a high movement speed after breaching, but it proportionally goes down with its damage output.

Agents that panic under the effects of this abnormality are switched to Release behavior, regardless of their typical panic type. Agents afflicted with this state gain a collage-type effect obscuring their eyes, and have a slightly harder time being suppressed due to an increase in movement speed.

Resistances (Highest to Lowest): Red, Black, White, Pale

---

EGO Equipment: Hiraeth

Weapon: A patchwork violin that always sounds nostalgic, a feeling just outside of your periphery. Ranged, white damage. Low damage, but quick output.

Special: A loud screeching note that deals heavy white damage, but has a bit of a recharge period.

Gift: A small, scribbly set of wings by the head. Increases SP, attack speed, and work speed.

[ Snippet of a recording of an Employee account of the subject. ]

Have you ever wondered what it was like to be a shooting star? To travel miles and miles and miles, only to land somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere strange. A place not built for you, unwelcoming to your very essence.

[...]

Hm? The recording? Ah, yes, I'm getting to it. Don't worry, everything I'm saying is very important to the report.

[...]

...Fine, if you insist.

When it arrived, nobody was really sure what to make of it. Many others who had tried to work with it simply did not get any conclusive results. It was "unresponsive," "uncooperative," "difficult." They just didn't know what they were doing. So, they ended up picking me to work on it next; something about being "receptive" and "observant," or something like that. You know, work speak.

It never responded too much, at first. I can't imagine why it would. But I'm nothing if not persistent. I always find a way. Maybe it just needed a little help communicating. So we brought in some basic crafts material. You know; paper, pencils, crayons. I will admit, it may have been at least a little bit for me, too.

I used to draw a lot when I was little, you know. Was a bit of a lonely kid, y'know? I don't do it so much anymore, it just isn't in the cards for me. But back then, at least, it almost felt like--

[...]

...Right. Sorry. The subject.

Surprisingly, it actually moved to join me after some time. Drawing, I mean. I wasn't sure it had the ability, but sure enough, it had picked up the nearest utensil and begun working with purpose. I don't much like prying with this sort of thing, but looking at what it was doing... it was the strangest thing. It was a mess, incomprehensible-- but somehow, it was striking. I knew that place. Or at least, it felt like it. It wasn't clear, but something in it... it felt like home.

But as it went, it got less and less steady, more sporadic-- frustrated, almost-- until eventually, it grew so unstable I was forced to end working with it early. We didn't touch its unit for a while after that, but I couldn't stop thinking about that scene it was drawing. It never spoke, but I could hear it. It whispers, you know? If anyone had taken the time to listen, maybe they'd have noticed.

I know what it's like to be alone first hand, you know. That feeling of listlessness, that incorrectness... I know it all too well. And once, for once in my entire life... it felt like I finally, truly found someone who understood.

[...]

Yes, I know we are not supposed to view the abnormalities as people. Trust me, I remember. You don't have to worry about it. Those rules are just petty precautions anyway.

[...]

Hm? Oh, I don't think you understand. I know exactly what I'm doing. In fact, I think i've done my job quite well.

[ An alarm begins blaring. ]

Ah, there it is. This was nice, but I think that's my cue. Now if you'll excuse me, me and my friend will be going now.

[ A sudden cacophony of noise kicks up, and the recording abruptly ends. ]

#long post #pikocs #projmoon #pikart #um um !!! never written one of these before so dont expect this t be like. balanced or coherent or whatever i just write words here #th snippet at the end i lichrally did just now so um <33 yay (<- girlies who didnt proofread)#ANYWAY. considerin having it interact w fragments. like if it breaches so does whispers. or smthn like that.#ithink theyd interact interestingly. but im not thinking too hard <3 yipy

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we-are-lawyer · 4 months

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A New Path for the Collective Public Discord

Having existed since 2018, the discord server has gone through a variety of phases and purposes. It has come to the point where in our growth we have developed beyond the original intention of an attachment of the tumblr presence. The question has been asked of whether the server and it's members are served well by the current attachment, and a referrendum of our server members has decided with overwhelming majority that is it time for us to fly the nest and strike out on our own. we will not be removing the collective fully from us - the collective was our origin and home and the origin of everything we have built, but is it my opinion that it is time for us to spread our wings and become something in our own right.

We hold no ill will to the Collective, and we’re grateful for all our experiences there as our foundation for this, and for the friendships we made through it. However, numbers wise, we see some distinction as our discord server has grown in community beyond what isolated tumblr blogs could. For the creative freedom and community of us and our server members, we will be severing official ties to the Collective, in the spirit of freeing our own creative decisions to grow our space going forwards. The server will not be removing our collective members, nor will it become an unwelcome space for those of you who have joined us or will join us - it will simply be becoming a space of it's own, tied to nothing but itself. This will be a long proccess and I do not expect it to happen overnight - however, if you'd like to come and be a part of what we are building, please do feel free to join us; https://discord.gg/4fFsP5TUwr

I hope to see you all there :)

Thank you!

Jon

#collective #discord

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vikingnerd793 · 5 months

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So there was a take on Tumblr that went something along the lines of

"BG3 would be nothing without Astarion, Neil makes this game."

Let me just talk about fucking trash takes like this that no one, including Neil, asked for.

This is, IMO, a great example of the parasocialism that plagues too many of the chronically online, and particularly those who are younger in Fandoms who grew up tethered to their phones and thinking being a Stan means you have to shit on everything that isn't what you Stan because you think that is how you show devotion to someone who doesn't even know you exist. I know it's probably hard to think about things in a grander scheme, putting these things out on the internet achieves absolutely nothing, for no one. It doesn't make you a true fan of Astarion and Neil. It does make you someone who seems like you could use a healthier attachment to both of them where you don't need to diminish other things to elevate them.

Additionally, this is how you get other BG3 fans to go from being lukewarm on Astarion or even somewhat fond of Astarion, to hating that character. And it paints Astarion fans horribly when you act this way. So, again who do you think you're helping with these AWFUL takes?

And speaking of that awful take -- incorrect. BG 3 is GOTY because of the collective. It goes beyond any one actor. It goes beyond any one character. It is a masterpiece of a game IN ITS ENTIRETY. GOT IT? It is absolutely fucked up that you reduced the impact this game has as a cultural phenomenon, and as a game that had shaken the status quo of the industry, to a single character just so you could feel like your favorite comes off just a little "above" the rest. Stop it. Stop it right now.

And I have said it before-- multiple actors in this game including the incredible narrator could justifiably get nominated for awards. Sam? There isn't a scene in the game that beats the Gortash scene. I will die on that hill. That said, that is one of many outstanding performances, but I am hard pressed to think of any performances that weren't great. They all. Deserve. Praise.

Anyway, back to my regularly scheduled fangirling over BG3. I hope some of you seriously get a grip on yourselves and leave those awful takes out of the community. It is so toxic and so unwelcome.

#I would say touch grass but I genuinely would prefer people just reflect and do better #please evaluate why you need to be that awkwardly combative when nobody asked #I may tag this for bigger reach but for now just let this marinate on my Tumblr #it is ok to be a superfan but please don't make it abrasive and weird #you will make a lot of us hate the thing you love and that is not your goal I feel like

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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 8 months

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I'm really contemplating whether or not I can in good conscience keep thinking of myself as queer, which is kind of painful for me, because I have a lot of attachment to what it means to me. But it really does clearly mean something very different to most people, and I don't want to ignore that reality. It bothers me that when I say it, people might reasonably believe I'm talking about a particular type of ideology and political agenda that can be separated from the Normie Gays and the Hateful Assimilationists, that a person could learn about then choose to agree with and support or not agree with and support, because I've always felt strongly that being queer isn't a type of politics you can have, it's an experience of existing in a politicized way.

I'm well aware that 90% of the people in my Tumblr orbit perceive me (or would if they knew me) as one of the Hateful Assimilationists, which in some sense I agree that I am. I think it's actually a reasonably psychologically healthy goal to want to be a participating member of one's community and culture, although that's not the only thing I think a reasonably psychologically healthy person should care about. And it's not the only thing I care about, but I do want to just -- go about my business in life, and do my job and shop and socialize and deal with bureaucracy and attend events and never have to navigate feeling anxious or unwelcome or unsafe simply because I exist in public and other people have feelings about that. To myself, I feel -- normal, I'm just a person, I'm not doing anything that I feel like should be all that bothersome or intrusive to other people. It's other people who are intrusive when I I just am here, looking like they don't think I should look, having a family they don't think I should have.

So, like -- I'm not queer because that's some kind of mission statement for me, I know other queer people like the idea of having a Disruptive Agenda, but my agenda is and has always been trying to convince other people to be less rude and weird about me, because I'm just like, some person who is alive and trying to get through life like anyone else, like everyone else. As far as I'm concerned, I have never been the weird one; people who have absolutely no stake in my clothes, name, sex life, facial hair, general manner of existing, and yet feel thoroughly empowered to inflict their uninvited opinions about those things on me -- those people seem bizarre to me.

So when I've used the word queer, it's always been an acknowledgement that these are non-normative ways of being, and these are stigmatized ways of being, and there has been an ongoing experience of stigmatization and marginalization in my life that I recognize as a broadly shared experience with many other flavors of gender identity and sexuality minorities. And I need language like that to be able to say, hey, I recognize that across our diverse experiences, we've all been defined out of Normalcy whether or not we wanted to be. That's been placed on us, similar to the way that "non-white" and "people of color" are categories people are placed in by the hegemonic power of white supremacy, not because there's something inherently Other or Non about having skin darker than a Styrofoam cup, or because every other ethnic phenotype in the world shares some particular quality. The only quality they share is the way that whiteness Others them, and the quality I share with all other queer people is the way that heteronormativity Others all of us.

But it's used so often by so many other people as a signifier of some ideological commitment to an adequate level of Smashing the Patriarchy, and I'm not remotely interested in a vision of queerness that audits people's beliefs and motives and degree of radicalism, because for a lot of people, simply existing is as much radical disruption as they're able or willing to commit to, and that's frankly their business, not mine. Queer people spend our lives being judged and excluded, measured and found wanting. I'm just not up for a vision of queerness that imposes yet another external standard that people have to figure out how to meet in order to avoid hearing some version of "you're not queer, you're just a girl who likes girls" or whatever the current clever zing is about why they don't make the cut.

The world ascribes political meaning to our existence, it thinks that us merely wanting to live is "activism" and "radical leftism" and "the woke mind virus" or whatever the fuck. But we're not issues, we're fundamentally people, and presumably over the course of our lives we'll identify with any number of different issues and goals and beliefs, but we were people at birth and have always been and will always be people, and that is what I personally think should be at the center of whatever we're trying to do as a community, I think here you can be seen as the person you are is more impactful work than trying to make sure we don't accidentally embrace any Assimilationists.

I'm not saying there's nothing political about it when I call myself queer, but I am saying that the statement "gender and sexuality diversity is just part of the human experience, we are simply humans no matter what" is unfortunately already politicized. I wish it weren't. I wish that were just a thing I could believe in because it seems objectively true to me and it didn't have any particular politics attached to it. I would like my actual causes to be, like, climate change and food justice and socialized medicine! It's a bummer to me that I have to spend so much of my life asserting my own basic humanity, and I would like even more of the straight world to come around and join me in just not thinking my transness or my bisexuality are particularly fascinating aspects of my personality.

I don't know, I've just never been a "queer as in fuck you" person, and I never am going to be -- I can certainly get mad enough to be combative at times, but that's not fundamentally who I am or how I see the world. I like communities and I like getting along with people when I can, I like social safety nets and good neighbors and ethics of care, and I don't want people -- including me! -- to feel forced to the margins of their families and communities and churches and schools and jobs. I think it's good to want to belong to things and painful and often traumatic to be excluded and shunned. I know you do have to set some functional limits to your inclusion, paradox of tolerance and all that, but I also think you don't make a good life or a good world without some degree of learning to practice civility and coalition building and compromise. Those are the things that make communities, because if you can only deal with the people you easily mesh with, that's gonna end up being simply not enough people to survive.

So I want to draw boundaries wide, for practical purposes, and also because like I said, that is my core value, that people have inherent worth and dignity that doesn't depend on their actions or their ideas, but simply on the fact of their humanity. I think queer people need advocacy and need respect and need community even if I also think those people are full of shit, and my allegiance to the idea of queerness has always been about that respect -- that you don't need to justify exactly where you fit in order to fit here, that we make room for people to be themselves who have otherwise been told it's not okay to be themselves.

#idk i'm still working this stuff out #i just feel super alienated and frustrated right now maybe it'll pass

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coochiequeens · 5 months

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A fully intact male walked into a shower with girls and then exposed himself. But that never happens.

The Department of Education (DOE) has opened an investigation into an incident at a Wisconsin school involving a transgender woman student in a locker room with female students.

The Wisconsin Institute for Law and Liberty, a conservative law firm, announced this week that it received a letter from the DOE saying that the department's Office of Civil Rights (OCR) was opening an investigation into a complaint it filed earlier this year involving a transgender student who undressed in front of female students in the Sun Prairie Area School District (SPASD). Newsweek reached out to the DOE via email for comment.

"Following the school's failure to sufficiently address the incident, disregard for parents' concerns, and their stonewalling of an open records request, WILL worked alongside parents of the school district to seek an investigation and remedies from the Department of Education under the Biden Administration," the Wisconsin Institute for Law and Liberty [WILL] said in a press release on Thursday. "The federal government notified WILL that in response to our complaint they are opening an investigation of SPASD."

WILL Deputy Counsel Daniel Lennington told Newsweek on Thursday: "This opening of a formal civil rights investigation is tremendously significant, not only for this case, but as a warning to other schools nationwide that embrace new and untested transgender policies without considering the impact on female students."

According to the WILL, in June, it filed a complaint with the DOE after learning that an 18-year-old transgender woman student undressed in front of four female high school students in a locker room.

"As the girls began to shower, the male student approached them, entered the shower area, announced 'I'm trans, by the way,' and then fully undressed and showered next to the girls," the complaint said. "He was initially turned towards the wall but turned and fully exposed his body to the four girls. He had not transitioned medically and had the physiological appearance of an adult male. Understandably, the girls closed their eyes and tried to hurry up and leave the showers."

Conservatives have continued to slam the LGBTQ+ and transgender community this year after Bud Light partnered with transgender influencer and activist Dylan Mulvaney, with many calling for boycotts and an end to the inclusion of transgender women in female sports.

Many Democrats have shown support for the transgender community, with President Joe Biden recently calling for an end to discrimination against trans individuals and saying: "My Administration ended the ban on transgender Americans serving our country and I signed historic executive action to strengthen civil rights protections for all LGBTQI+ Americans."

In the complaint to the DOE, WILL said that the locker room incident is a violation of Title IX law involving the prohibition of discrimination based on sex.

"Under this law, sex discrimination encompasses sexual harassment, which includes unwelcome conduct so severe that it effectively denies a person equal access to the education program, like the incident that occurred at SPASD," it said.

"WILL claims in this complaint that SPASD discriminated against four freshman girls on the basis of sex. Not only did the district fail to comply with requirements under Title IX, but its policies fail to protect all female students in the district."

The law firm said it previously listened to complaints from parents following the incident, and that the female students initially informed an assistant principal, who was required to notify the Title IX coordinator but failed to do so.

"Over a month after the incident, a principal emailed our client and apologized 'for the incident that occurred' and attached a copy of a 'Restroom and Locker Room Accessibility Guidance' document [Ex. A], which by all accounts was never adopted by the school board," the complaint said. "No one at SPASD contacted the girls to offer supportive measures or an opportunity to file a formal complaint of sexual harassment until after WILL became involved."

A spokesperson for the school district confirmed to WMSN-TV in Wisconsin receipt of the letter from the DOE but didn't comment further.

The letter announcing the investigation by the DOE said the department will remain "neutral," and "will collect and analyze the evidence it needs in order to make a decision."

"We applaud the Department of Education Office of Civil Rights for investigating the allegations made in our complaint, but we all need to wait and see if they take this as seriously as they should," WILL Associate Counsel Cory Brewer said. "We hope this results in answers for parents and families at the Sun Prairie Area School District, but we won't know until we see the results of the investigation."

#usa #Wisconsin #The Department of Education (DOE)#The Wisconsin Institute for Law and Liberty #Office of Civil Rights (OCR)#Sun Prairie Area School District (SPASD)#Keep men out of women’s spaces #Restroom and Locker Room Accessibility Guidance' document #I hate that a conservative law firm is taking up the case on behalf of those girls #But liberal law firms are too busy protecting men

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confusing-cherry-writer · 7 months

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You're Always Welcome Here

She gave him her key.

The day started out like any other normal day. The difference happened when a Messager hawk arrived with a letter in his claw and a pouch tied around his right leg. Gaara tensed, weary of the bag until the slight scent of vanilla reached his nose and his eyes spotted the peach envelop that reveled who the secret senders identity was instantly. There was only one person this would be from.

Sakura Haruno.

The two had started seeing each other last spring, but being from two different villages, letters were often the way they communicated. Neither of them seemed to mind it to much. Gaara sure didn't. As much as he would like to see her in person, being the Kazekage isolated him from the rest of the world at times. Sakura understood this as she had her own busy schedule. She never expected to be able to see him every day.

Even with a lack of face-to-face communication, letters were sent often enough to forget about the distance. This was why he had a pile of letters hidden in his room for his eyes only. Her letters gave him something to look forward to between the piles of reports and the headaches that came in the form of elder meetings.

Going forward to collect his prizes, no one would be able to see the way his mouth slightly turned upwards as he opened the envelope to start reading. However, his attempt at a smile quickly changed once he finished her letter.

It was a simple letter stating that she would be busy over the next few weeks. With flu season coming soon and her various experiments going on, she might be lacking in the letter correspondence department but she wanted to tell him so he didn't worry.

That part didn't bother him. It filled him with warmth knowing that she was a highly respected medic-nin with a lot of responsibilities and reports to do but she still tried to make time for him. It was inevitable that she would occasionally become swamped with work. The same happened to him time to time.

That wasn't what made him nearly drop the letter and its now extremely important attachment to the floor.

No.

It was when his seafoam green eyes casually scrolled over the last couple of lines in the letter that his fingers suddenly wanted to disobey his mind.

"...Here. Incase you ever need to stop by (and maybe get a flu shot while your here), just let yourself in. After all your always welcome here... PS: Beware of the traps"

Eyes flickering to the little cotton pouch with a small white bow holding the top tightly shut. Gaara quickly opened it and dumped out a small metal key.

The key that was supposedly to open his partners door... all the way in Konoha.

All things considered this was a highly dangerous stunt Sakura pulled. What if any enemies saw the Messager hawk? What if they shot it down and read the contents of the letter? Now they would have access to her house.

These were the unwelcomed thoughts playing out Gaara mind as he quickly gathered and appointed his siblings as substitute leaders under the guise of an impromptu vacation in the Leaf. Besides, It wasn't a real vacation, he rationalized. He would go to the leaf, lecture Sakura on the importance of message safety, stay the night, and then come back home to the Sand in the morning. That would be it, he would be back in exactly one week.

He ignored the curiosity and amusement dancing in their eyes as he swiftly turned and left the tower.

He found his thoughts weren't done with him yet.

What if they somehow managed to get past the leaf guards patrolling around the village? That's what haunted Gaara the entire time he was packing for his sudden trip to the Leaf.

What if they had managed to find her house out of the hundreds of houses there? He was at the gate about to start running when this thought happened.

What would have happen if they managed to take her by surprise? They could eliminate her and then rob her for all her medical scrolls. Those would sell for a fortune. Gaara by no means thought of the Godaimes apprentice to be a weak woman. He wouldn't consider a suitable partner if she was. No she was one of the strongest kunoichi he knew.

But he of all people knew how even the best of soliders could fall when properly unaware.

He didn't want to think anymore as he leapt to start his journey. If he sped up and cut down the time on his trip a little. Well. That was his business.

His thoughts didn't bother him again until he was in the lush forests of Konoha. Logic seemed to catch up to him in his change of environment.

Not once through his trip did did question why the Kazekage of would suddenly show up in Konoha unannounced. Nor did it occur to him that even if he was to show up, there were special rooms for high ranking political figures. There would be no way the kazekage would have no where to stay and be forced to stay at a random ninjas house. Even if he needed a special flu shot, Konoha would surely just send him a medic instead request he go to them.

All in all, a key to Sakura Harunos house made no sense politically. He slowly stopped running for a second as the next thought entered his head.

Ah.

Sakura simply wanted him to visit and wanted him to stay with her whenever he visited.

Shaking his head as he started running again, this time at a more leisurely pace. Even his safety concerns seemed more flawed more he thought about it.

Even if random enemies did somehow get ahold of Sakuras key, she would most likely would have sent a confirmation letter later to see if he received it or not. Not only that, how would they even know what house was hers? How would they even get in one of the most protected villages without been detected? If they could do that, there would have be no reason to have the key in the first place, surely they could just broken in and robbed the place at any time.

Checking in at the village gates, ignoring the confused looks and the rushed statement of "Informing the Hokage right away Kazekage-sama," Gaara had already started down the path of his lovers place.

Using the key that started this whole journey, he felt some type of joy in watching that it really did open her house. She had entrusted him the real thing. Easily disarming the traps she spoke of, he sat on her couch as he wasted time for her to get home.

Three hours later and his anger was nonexistent by the time he actually felt her chakra inch near him. After all, logically he knew all his earlier concerns were improbable. That didn't mean he liked the situation any more than before and he was fully prepared to inform her of that until he saw her actually open the door.

The first thing he noted was just how tired she looked. Next that he saw was the kunai in her hand as she obviously noticed the lack of traps around her place. It eased some part of him. Knowing that even though his partner was tired, she still was alert about her surroundings, even in her own house.

Then their eyes finally met. He opened his mouth to start, but found Sakura beat him to the punch when she suddenly smiled and launched herself at him. Pushing her face into his chest, Gaara could barely make out the words, "Your here" in the silent room.

Well. That's just not fair.

How could he mad at his love when she obviously missed him more than he thought she did? Leaning down, he planted a quick kiss on her forehead. Before he could fully pull back, she had chased his lips with hers until they met.

Melting into the kiss, Gaara had one last coherent thought before his mind went blank

'Well damn.'

Guess he would take a real vacation while he was here after all.

#gaasaku #No beta we die like neji #writing #Not my best work #Gosh I haven't written in so long #Oneshot #Maybe?#Kinda wanna write from Sakuras POV #I was supposed to do both but then it would have really spiraled out of control #IDK I wrote this at 3 am #This was supposed to be short & Sweet #How did this happen

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l-anna-art · 2 years

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Ask game: dragon!Izuku existing in a sci-fi AU, please!

Dragons are cosmic creatures that wander through the universe, most of the time being carried in the sidereal void. These creatures are rare and are born in suns, whose heat serves as an incubator and feeds them until they hatch, causing the death of what served as their nest by transforming it into a white dwarf. However, the dragons belong more to the legends circulating from ship to ship than to real observations.

The story takes place as the OFA ship and its crew are on a mission to evacuate people from a dying solar system. In addition to helping with the evacuation and preventing curious people from getting too close, their main role is to monitor the evolution of the sun as it enters its final moments, in order to keep a record of this event. However, things went wrong and the explosion that announced the death of the sun was much bigger than expected. Some of the ships were destroyed, others were completely paralyzed. Toshinori regained consciousness in space, ejected from his ship. He can do nothing but wait when he sees the creature leaving the remains of the star and heading towards him. Toshinori clearly thinks he is dead at that moment.

Actually, it's one of the most peaceful creatures he's ever seen. Izuku being the equivalent of a newborn, he absorbs all the new experiences developing his identity and grows extremely fast. And Toshinori being the first conscious being he interacts with, he becomes attached to him. It was also Toshinori who named him Izuku.

His mode of communication is based on telepathy, both of sound, images and memories. However, this only goes one way because Toshinori's mind can't handle receiving so much information. It is by relying on Toshi's memories that Izuku will allow him to find his ship and will take a more humanoid form.

Izuku then begins his life in the OFA ship. It takes him only a few hours to learn the different languages and customs of the members, he is absolutely curious about everything new, and Yoichi, who was known as a passionate of myths and legends about mythical creatures, was good at dealing with the youngling, although Izuku prefers to stay close to Yagi.

Even though some members see Izuku as an ominous sight, the crew decided by mutual agreement to hide Izuku's nature, as his existence is very controversial and could bring them a lot of unwelcome attention across the galaxy.

The hardest part was teaching him to speak by himself and the notion of consent in regards to invading people's minds. However, he continues to do it with strangers, because it allows him to sort out the ill-intentioned people from the rest.

#asks game #5 headcanons game #cosmic dragon au #gentry

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bokettochild · 10 months

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Different anon, but I'ma just get straight to the point.

What are your thoughts on the queer/pride community?

That's what most this drama is about.

Well....

I've repeatedly been told that I'm part of the community because I identify as demi-sexual. I've never seen myself as a part of it though, not because anyone is unwelcoming or gatekeeping! But just... because. I don't feel like who I am fits within what is covered in LGBTQ+. I like men, but I have attachment problems (basic summarization), and I'm a cis woman, thus, I see myself as just.... being.

As for how I view the community, I see it as a huge realm of possibilities. It's a group of people of all sorts, just like any other group. There are some really sweet ones, who are warm and friendly with everyone, kind of like my boss! He's openly gay, and really sweet. He likes asking me about my writing, sharing about the books he's reading, and randomly checks in to see that I'm eating enough? Others are like my old piano teacher, where you never have reason to feel unsafe, but yeah, it's a bit uncomfortable between you, even though neither party brings up their differences openly. (I think he was uncomfortable too, but have no clue what was up with our dynamic).

There are, granted, some who are like my predatory elder sister, but those are, in my experience, less prominant (thank God) and frowned upon by the rest of the community because they give everyone a bad name.

In my experience here on tumblr, I've found that a lot of them are just scared kids trying to make sense of what is going on inside and why they feel certain ways. Others are defensive and aggressive individuals, demanding recognition and acceptance, and pushing people to the point of a breakdown if they don't get it (October 2020 is my witness)

But really, they're PEOPLE. They have different ways of thinking and living than I do, but the majority of them are usually kind and friendly. While I am Christian, and my Bible does teach against homosexuality, I do know that my Bible ALSO teaches to love thy neighbor, regardless of belief, lifestyle, mode of dress, lover, religion, or anything! I mean the famous parable about the Good Samaritan is literally this teaching! Sure, people may be different and we may not agree, but we can still treat each other with respect and love, even if we still don't agree with them.

I think that's what they call human decency :)

So yeah. I guess for me, I just see the community as a culture I am not part of, but can exist beside if we both treat each other like humans with the right to choose how they think and feel.

#asks and answers #lgbtq+#christianity #not lu

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bluegekk0 · 6 months

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💐

gift giving is the primary way everyone in the family expresses their appreciation for each other. for some, it's just something they enjoy, but for others it's sadly a result of struggling to communicate their feelings

i think i'll start putting longer responses under a read more thing, i think they end up cluttering people's feeds too much, so here it is haha

i mentioned before that grimm loves bringing gifts for each family member every time he leaves town. he's completely obsessed with them, they're on his mind 99% of the time, and whenever he's away from home he wishes they could all travel together. unfortunately, that is not possible, at least at the current point in the au, so instead he puts all of his mind into searching for things to buy for each of them in the shops and markets of various kingdoms. to him, they're like little pieces of the places he's in that he can bring back home and share with his loved ones, and he makes sure each gift is something that would be to their liking

the emoji reminds me of valentine's day so i'll touch on that as well. grimm is most certainly a romantic, and if hallownest doesn't have a designated love day, he'd pick one himself to shower fpk with affection. they don't have many date options seeing as fpk is still afraid of traveling, and the city of tears is quite unwelcoming to them (though i do have a small side plot in mind where grimm finds an acquaintance in the city who offers them safe visits in their dining place, i'd love to touch on this later). but to them just spending some time together is enough. they have a favorite spot in greenpath, the bench by the waterfalls to be exact, and i could see them going there for a romantic date and some alone time

as for fpk, he started out in the "i'm not sure how to express that i love you so i will give you gifts instead" camp but over the course of the au he opens a lot more, so now he's doing it because he enjoys making his family happy. since he can't buy gifts, he instead makes them in his workshop. toys for lewk, new hunting tools for hornet, gardening tools and arm upgrades for holly, even something for zote if he ever hears that zote is in need of a thing he knows how to make. for grimm it's most often tech for his performances, mostly for special effects but also props. he does try to make things that can be considered beautiful, like some kind of sculptures or figures with mechanical elements. his sense of aesthetic and beauty is far from grimm's, so the end result isn't always the best of the best, but grimm still loves it and showcases each one on the shelves in his troupe tent

hornet is definitely in the same camp fpk once was. she has no idea how to talk about her feelings, she bottles everything up and often reacts way too angrily even if she doesn't mean it, but she does genuinely care about her family, even despite everything that happened. she struggles with communicating that, her fear of getting attached always gets in the way of every "i love you" she could've said to them, so gift giving is the best way she can express it without outright stating it. she wanders around hallownest a lot and she occasionally visits the junk pit to see if there's anything fpk could use in his workshop. if she goes out hunting, she always takes note of what food each family member considers their favorite. i think she also visits the city far more often than anyone else, so if there's any traveling merchants that stay there, or any new shops that opened, she will take a look at what they have to offer. holly enjoys drawing and sewing, so if she finds new pencils or sewing tools, she will bring them back home for them. if she walks by a bookstore, she'll look through the books and buy the ones she thinks grimm hasn't read yet. and if any merchant sells toys, she'll get something for lewk too. she's quite similar to grimm in this regard, even if she doesn't want to admit it

holly rarely leaves dirtmouth but they still have things to give to their family. their hobbies include drawing and sewing, so they often make things for the family to express their love, as they can't do it through spoken words. they enjoy sketching what they see, and that often includes the rest of the family. hornet reading a book on the couch, fpk hard at work in his workshop, grimm and his troupe doing a performance rehearsal, lewk chewing on zote's cloak. all kinds of everyday mundane things that they cherish greatly, and so are very inclined to draw on the pages of their little journal. if they like the result, they'll rip the page from the journal and give it to whoever's portrayed, hoping that they enjoy it. when sewing, they love making plushies that resemble the other family members (and other dirtmouth residents) and then giving them as gifts

lewk is still a child, and children love making gifts for their family. he is no different. he'll use holly's drawing supplies to make adorable family drawings, or try to make plushies similar to what holly makes. similarly, if he's in the workshop with fpk, he'll join him at the desk and attempt to craft something with his help which he could then give as a gift. he also joins hornet whenever she goes out wandering, so he'll bring back things that remind him of anyone, which most often end up being rocks that have a funny shape, or a piece of junk he thinks looks cool. things that can be considered, well, junk, but in his eyes are great gifts that he gives out of love and appreciation

i'd mention zote here but truth be told i think the concept of giving someone a present out of the kindness of one's heart is still a bit alien to him. he is always quite surprised if he receives one, and he does appreciate it even if he acts like he doesn't, but he still has a lot to learn and so hasn't yet processed that concept properly. he's never had a real family, and the years of putting on a mask and acting like a jerk aren't that easy to reverse. perhaps with time that will change, it'd surely be an interesting character development for him

#ask stuff #feral pk au

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isobelleposts · 2 years

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5 Films to Watch and Cry About Love

Directed by Joachim Trier - Starring Renate Reinsve

The Worst Person in the World (2021)

When I first finished this movie, I felt as though there was so much to talk about but found no place to begin, hence my Letterboxd review only mentioning how great its soundtrack is—though it is so much more than just that. The Worst Person in the World follows the life of an ever-changing woman named Julie and her struggles in finding her career path and keeping her love life afloat.

This is a film that I wish I could watch for the first time once again and reminisce how my eyes never left my screen. It allows you to feel conflicted and worry about the protagonist's plights and almost leaves you renewed and grown in someway by the end.

Directed by Cooper Raiff - Starring Dakota Johnson

Cha Cha Real Smooth (2022)

This film is one of those that you get into without much expectation and then suddenly, there on your couch or in your bed, you feel a warmness fill your insides and catch yourself attached to its stories and characters. With its natural dialogue and delivery, Cha Cha Real Smooth follows the story of Andrew, a guy who is new to love’s pains.

Director and actor Cooper Raiff manages to let his audience feel as though they had just watched a fracture of someone’s life at some corner of the world, and just so unexpectedly brings them comfort.

Starring Daisy Edgar-Jones & Paul Mescal

Normal People (2020)

Marianne and Connel have to be one of the most humane and genuine relationships I’ve ever seen featured on screen. Normal People is a show that doesn’t over-dramatize or romanticize life and instead features its admittedly “boring” yet raw cycle of love and relationships.

If he silently decides not to say something when they’re talking, Marianne will ask “what?” within one or two seconds. This “what?” question seems to him to contain so much: not just the forensic attentiveness to his silence that allows her to ask in the first place, but a desire for total communication, a sense that anything unsaid is an unwelcome interruption between them.

Page 26 of ‘Normal People’ by Sally Rooney

Normal People is a TV adaptation of the popular novel in the same title by Sally Rooney, and both capture you with sympathy and heartache for both leading characters. This is a story about loving and growing apart and with each other, which has you pondering about life and its still movements in time.

For my full review of the show and book: Click Here.

Starring Jung Hae-in & Son Ye-jin

Something in the Rain (2018)

Regular K-drama watchers know how unrealistic and dramatic Korean Television tends to get, and sometimes there’s this craving for something new and real—distinctly apart from the cliches and repetitive tropes of rich-and-poor, love-triangle, and much more. Instead, the show revolves around two unforbidden lovers and beautifully unravels their relationship and its ups and downs with time’s passing.

Something in the Rain directed by Ahn Pan-seok is perfect for the rainy and winter season with its melancholic feel and tolerably slow pace. You’ll find yourself wishing for a love like theirs by the end of this show.

Starring Rachel McAdams & Domhnall Gleeson

About Time (2013)

Although I didn’t shed a tear for this one, About Time is an extremely heartwarming film that leaves you thinking about time and how it should be spent. The film follows Tim, a guy desperate for love and to keep it with him, spending hours of his life manipulating time only to realize that faith’s path to loss can never be blocked.

The part I love most about this film is its head-on approach to supernaturality without having to explain why or how this is possible. For so long I’ve restricted myself from pursuing ideas and plots in fear that I had to give it sense, but this film made me learn that it is only a fictional world after all.

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thehomeofplatonicfics · 1 year

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It Wasn't Your Fault

Deanna Troi x betazoid!reader (platonic!)

You were finally off-duty after a Night Shift, and you slumped down on your bed as soon as you returned to your quarters. Taking a deep breath in and letting it out in a satisfying sigh, you forced yourself to approach the replicator. “Hot chocolate.” You ordered, offering a tired smile in thanks to the replicator as the delicious sweet beverage appeared. You took the mug in your hand, cradling it’s warmth into your chest before taking a large sip. Finally, you could give in to your exhaustion and get ready for bed.

Making your way over to the mirror, you pulled your hair out of its style and into a more relaxed state. Removing the jacket and placing it on the bed, you suddenly saw the flash of an image in your mind, intrusive and unwelcome. You shook your head believing yourself just to be tired and therefore more susceptible to the stronger emotions of the crew. Moving to grab your pyjamas, you suddenly saw another image. You gasped, dropping your pyjamas on the floor in alarm.

You reached to tap your combadge to call for help, but your hand only found the fabric of the undershirt. Your badge was still attached to your jacket. Trying to reach for it, your mind was invaded with so many images and this time they didn’t stop. You collapsed onto your knees, clutching your head and crying for it to stop.

Meanwhile the senior staff were engaged in a meeting in the conference room, Captain Picard was running through each head of department’s status reports. Deanna’s brows furrowed as she sensed your alarm after the first few flashes of intense imagery. She tried to telepathically ask you if you were alright, but she found for some reason that she couldn’t get through to you. “Counsellor?” Will prompted Deanna, clearly seeing that something wasn’t right. “Deanna.” He called again, his hand resting on her shoulder as she frowned up at him.

“It’s Y/N. Something is… really… wrong.” Deanna’s voice became strained as she began to feel the stress and panic that you were feeling as you cried out for the images to stop. “Beverly, they need our help now.” Doctor Crusher nodded, and Captain Picard gave his consent for the pair to go and see what was wrong. They quickly stopped by sickbay to pick up a medkit, and Deanna urged them to hurry. “I think they’re under a telepathic attack. I can sense a presence in their mind that I can only describe as not belonging to them.” Deanna raised a hand to her temples, struggling to maintain composure. She could tell how much pain you were in.

They reached your quarters and Beverly punched in the code for a medical override. Deanna rushed in to find you on the floor, jerking and thrashing about, mumbling incoherently under your breath. Tears stained your cheeks and you seemed to be fighting with air. Beverly soon joined Deanna, kneeling down beside you and assessing your state with a frown. She realised this was perhaps a betazoid problem best dealt with by a betazoid. “How can I help, Deanna?”

The counsellor remained silent for a few moments, as she probed your mind and tried to read what was happening. There definitely was a force invading your mind, for what purpose Deanna wasn’t sure. She worried that she couldn’t really help, after all if as a full betazoid you couldn’t protect yourself against the presence, then as only a half-betazoid she wouldn’t be any better.

“I need something to lower their psilosynine levels. That should help to decrease their telepathic field and lower the intruder's reach over their mind.” Deanna told Beverly, while she tried to telepathically call out to you. At first, you looked straight past her, clearly unaware of their presence. Then, as Doctor Crusher administered the hypospray into your neck, you looked straight at Deanna.

She tried again to communicate with you, but you lashed out at her, fighting against her in your head. “No, no! Leave me alone!” You cried, your hands balled into fists as you continued thrashing at Deanna. “What’s happening?” Beverly asked in alarm. “It’s helped them, but they think I’m a threat to them. It might be better to sedate them, then I won’t have to fight them to drive out the intruder.”

Beverly prepared another hypospray as Deanna tried her best to calm you and show she was your friend, not your enemy. You were too far gone though to even comprehend anything she was saying to you. All you knew was that you had to defend yourself. Doctor Crusher injected the second hypospray and the pair waited for a few seconds. Your thrashing soon slowed down, then you relaxed completely. It wasn’t more than a minute when you became unconscious.

They quickly transferred you to sickbay, before Deanna got to work driving the intruder from your mind. She sat by your side, holding your hand, while Beverly hovered by your side with a medical tricorder. The counsellor was clearly having a difficult time to overpower the strange presence. Finally, after an hour, Deanna drew back with a tired but relieved smile. Beverly glanced down at the screen of the tricorder, smiling in satisfaction to see all your vital signs were slowly beginning to return to normal.

The pair waited for you to regain consciousness naturally. Beverly continued her work in sickbay, glancing over at your biobed every couple of minutes. Meanwhile, Deanna used her combadge to contact the Captain and inform him of the situation. He decided to wait to have a report from you about what happened before taking any action. Deanna could sense that Picard would be too impatient to wait for the length of time it would take for you to truly recover to produce such a report. However, for now, she didn’t say anything.

After a couple of hours, Counsellor Troi sensed you were slowly coming to. She sat up straighter in her seat and leaned forward, her hand resting on your forearm. “Y/N?” She called out to you, grabbing the attention of Doctor Crusher, who seconds later was hovering over you with a tricorder.

Slowly and lethargically, you opened your eyes. Beverly asked how you were feeling, but you didn’t respond, merely staring into space. The Doctor glanced concernedly at Deanna, a silent plea for help. The counsellor smiled gently down at you, calling out your name again telepathically. This managed to capture your attention, as you turned your head to look at your fellow betazoid.

“Y/N, do you remember what happened to you?” Deanna asked you, quickly sending a comforting smile Beverly’s way as she sensed the Doctor’s unease at being unable to hear the conversation between you. “Yes.” You affirmed, and you felt the wave of relief radiating from the counsellor. “Can you tell me?” You hesitated for a second, a tear rolling down your cheek. “No.” You replied, turning away from them both, though you knew this wouldn’t hide anything from Deanna.

“Oh, Y/N…” You heard Deanna sigh out loud as she comfortingly stroked your arm while standing up. “What is it?” Beverly asked, clearly impatient to learn what was going on. Deanna gently held up a hand to Beverly, silently asking her to be patient. She could tell that your mind was exhausted and injured from your experience, and that telepathic communication would be the best way to help you.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Deanna began, walking away from the biobed and towards the replicator. “It was. I should have been stronger. I should have been keeping up with my mental exercises. I’ve let myself grow weak.” Deanna shook her head to herself, a ghost of a sad smile appearing for a second. “You are too hard on yourself. You have had a lot of responsibility here on the Enterprise recently, trying to increase your psionic abilities would have meant you would have no rest period. You know that is not healthy.” She paused in front of the replicator. “Computer, hot chocolate.” Deanna ordered out loud, scooping the mug into her hands as she made her way back over to you.

She knew you were crying before she heard the quiet sniffles and sobs, and she hoped that the sweet treat that you’d been intending to enjoy would help calm you a little. “Beverly, may they?” Deanna gestured to the mug in her hand. Beverly came closer and scanned you again, smiling in confirmation. “I see no reason why not, everything is returning to normal and it may help speed up the process.”

The counsellor stopped in front of you, holding out the hot chocolate for you to take. You slowly shifted to sit up, Beverly rushing to your side to support you as you wobbled slightly. You snatched the mug and cradled it into your chest, the warmth providing some minor comfort. “Thank you, Deanna.” You offered telepathically. “Is it helping?” You took a sip of the sweet drink, smiling for the first time since you awoke as the trickle of warmth down your throat helped to combat the pit of cold dread in your stomach. To finally answer Deanna’s question, you nodded, looking up at the pair as fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but is there anything important that we need to know? Is there any threat the captain should be made aware of?” Deanna dared to ask, with a concerned look. She did not expect the strong wave of embarrassment and shame that radiated from you, and she almost regretted asking as you broke down into shuddering, loud sobs.

Beverly cautiously took the mug from your hands to save you from spilling away, which gave Deanna the opportunity to wrap her arms around you in a tight hug. You leant against her, a hand gripping onto her arm as you let all your emotion out. In this wave of devastation, you projected an image of what happened to the counsellor, unable to conceal it. Deanna gasped, her arms squeezing you tighter as a tear rolled down her own cheek in understanding.

The two of you hugged for several minutes as you let out all your distress, Deanna piecing together the whole story based on all the thoughts and images you shared. Once you had calmed down enough, you gestured to Beverly to regain your hot chocolate, and Deanna let go. “Beverly, Y/N has shared information about what happened to them that I think the captain should know about. But I think a telepath needs to remain with them for now until they have recovered.” The Doctor smiled gently at you, hoping she was providing a comforting presence for you. “Say no more, tell me what I need to know and I’ll go report to the captain.”

The pair moved slightly away from you, though they knew of course you could understand every word. Deanna kept reassuring you telepathically while she was talking to Beverly, and you felt much calmer as you dipped on your hot chocolate. The Doctor soon left sickbay and Deanna grabbed her own mug of the sweet beverage, before hopping up onto the biobed. Together, you began talking about happier subjects in companionable silence.

#deanna troi x reader #star trek tng reader insert #deanna troi imagine #star trek tng imagine #star trek tng x reader #platonic reader insert #star trek tng

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