#(my 'gay writing stuff' tag)

[deep-space-lines]

okay but like. I just had the weirdest thought about that ‘don’t look I’m naked’ comic. Which is that that’s essentially the same thing Adam and Eve did after they ate the fruit of knowledge of good&evil. So I feel like the theological implications of that could kneecap Gabe if he doesn’t think V1 is a being with free will.

yeah ok. i dunno man. is this anything

((side note. this isn’t necessarily meant to be in-character or story-accurate or take place at any particular point in time, just a way to explore some Thoughts. i was also imagining more that V1’s words aren't actually spoken, more like Gabriel’s more articulate interpretation of whatever garbled mechanical noise V1 is using to communicate. I think an angel could do that.))

and then they fucked nasty the end

[kelocitta]

In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-

Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.

To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)

And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.

Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.

The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.

They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri

[the-golden-comet]

💋Friday Kiss Tag with Mix-Fried Onion Breath 🧅💋✨

It’s smoochin time once more! 💋

Thank you for the following tags this week ✨:

@tragedycoded and @gioiaalbanoart for an out of context tag, @wyked-ao3 , @gioiaalbanoart , @cowboybrunch , and @sableglass for a writing share, @kaylinalexanderbooks for an open writing share tag, @pippinoftheshire , @jev-urisk , @wyked-ao3 , @justabigoldnerd , and @eccaiia for a WIP Wednesday, @mysticstarlightduck for a Guess the OC tag, and @illarian-rambling for a Character Profile Tag!! Absolutely love the community involvement and engagement this week! 💛✨

To include all the tags, I will make this into the “Guess the OCs” format with the hints as a character profile tag. Let’s see how this goes! ❤️✨

Slowly, sweetly, __________ kissed his __________. Self indulgently, but also to prove a point.

❤️💋✨ALRIGHT—WHO ARE THESE KISSING MEN? ✨💋❤️

The hints about these OCs:

Both appear in their 20s.

They both have issues with their fathers.

One is overconfident, the other is irritated.

One is stressed, the other is relaxed.

More than one nation is represented.

Feel free to respond with a kiss tag of your own, or any of the other tags here! Rules below:

Rules: From your Story/WIP, share a kiss. It can be any kiss, from familial pecks on the cheek, forehead kisses, platonic smooches, to full-blown makeouts.

Rules for non-kiss:

Rules: Share a snippet of your story/WIP!

Leaving this onion-breath kiss tag +open and gently alerting the tag list. Happy smooching! 💋❤️✨

✨👇Tag list for writing snippets below. DM me if you would like to be added 👇✨

Tag List for writing tidbits (lmk if you want + or -)

@autism-purgatory , @jev-urisk , @talesofsorrowandofruin , @ragin-cajun-fangirl , @wyked-ao3 ,

@glasshouses-and-stones , @alinacapellabooks , @gioiaalbanoart , @tragedycoded , @deanwax ,

@dyrewrites , @honeybewrites , @drchenquill , @paeliae-occasionally , @lychhiker-writes ,

@thatuselesshuman , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @phynewrites , @zackprincebooks , @fantasy-things-and-such ,

@finickyfelix , @billybatsonmylove , @madi-konrad , @houseplantblank , @far-cry-from-finality ,

@froggy-pposto , @fractured-shield , @avaseofpeonies , @topazadine , @thecoolerlucky ,

@theaistired , @somethingclevermahogony , @noxxytocin , @the-inkwell-variable , @phynewrites ,

@leahnardo-da-veggie , @addicted2coke-theothercoke , @illarian-rambling , @mysticstarlightduck , @the-letterbox-archives ,

@ominous-feychild , @saturnine-saturneight , @words-after-midnight , @sableglass , @cowboybrunch ,

@yourpenpaldee , @moltenwrites , @pixies-love-envy , @davycoquette , @writeahurricane ,

@nczaversnick , @greenfinchwriter , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @lavender-gloom , @smellyrottentrees ,

@aintgonnatakethis , @thecomfywriter , @pluppsauthor , @michellekarnold , @flurrysahin ,

@authorcoledipalo , @jadeglas , @spookyceph , @astramachina , @48lexr ,

@inseasofgreen , @agirlandherquill , @saebasanart , @leatafandom , @justabigoldnerd ,

@pippinoftheshire , @just-emis-blog, @aalinaaaaa , @badscientist , @dearunreliablenarrator ,

@worlds-tallest-fairy , @rhikasa , @eccaiia , @theink-stainedfolk , @theverumproject ,

@theprissythumbelina , @riveriafalll , @revenancy , @inadequatecowboy , @amielbjacobs ,

@patternwelded-quill , @sugarchains , @garthcelyn , @prettytothink-so , @the-inkwell-variable ,

@winvyre , @speaknowbuckley , @lamuradex , @wintherlywords , @sharkblizzardblogs ,

@dragoninatrenchcoat , @darekasama , @theprissythumbelina , @seastarblue

[samijey]

why are they always like this.......

bonus Jey responding with some serious "i love you // i know" energy:

[lesbianphan]

Gentle

(One-shot: 1,8k words)

Summary: Phil doesn't really look at photos of their faces that much. Truthfully, there's only so many gifs, followed by people pointing out how utterly hopelessly in love you and your partner look at each other that you can actually absorb. Phil's brain feels like mush sometimes, with the amount of feeling right there, displayed for the world to see. This livestream was special though - in so many ways, - and he found himself transfixed by the animated images of Dan's gentle touching of his face, feeling some kind of cosmic shift happening on screen, the realization on the tip of his tongue.

Just a fluffy thinkpiece on their current content, and all the little moments they decided to share with their audience these past few months.

Read on AO3

[right-there-ride-on]

Gyjo in the fandom

cw: light discussion of ableism

Gyjo… what am I thinking about gyjo…

I like them. I like them a lot, actually. They have paralleled narrative arcs, they complement each other nicely, the romantic subtext is incredibly obvious to the point that even the most homophobic fan you know will admit they understand why people ship it… so why do I also have a problem with it?

There’s a lot of good fanart. Hell, I’ve reblogged plenty. Maybe it’s just something that’s more pronounced in fic.

I’m trying to word this correctly. My issue with gyjo has nothing to do with the text itself. I think my problem is just how people portray it in the fandom.

Maybe it’s because it’s so popular, or maybe it’s the sheer prominence of applying ‘Character A’ and ‘Character B’ dynamics without considerable regard for the characters involved, but I feel gyjo is very prone to flanderization. I believe the intersection with how ableist people are toward Johnny (intentionally or not, subtly or not) and the old tropes these two get shoved into makes it so I have trouble enjoying fics in the fandom.

I’m not saying it’s bad to enjoy certain tropes. I’m not saying headcanons are bad either. What I am saying is that writing is hard, but if you’re going to write fanfiction please have consideration for the characters you’re writing. The arcs of these two are complex and multilayered, which is why I think they have such staying power, but I also think they also provide a good opportunity for us as writers and artists to examine our biases when it comes to the portrayal of certain groups, personality types, mental illnesses, queerness, disability, etc. and maybe come out better people for it.

[lesovyart]

im so obsessed w them that I made fanart AND my own playlist

[jake-is-screaming-in-tune]

Hello! Today I went with some Zoro, because he's my favorite. He's a bitch to draw, it's so hard. I'm used to writing his pov, and find that pretty easy. But drawing him is hard. I don't know how people do it.

Under the cut are some different versions as always, since I can't decide on anything lol.

You know what's the thing that almost made me want to throw my laptop? Doing the triangle in the demi flag. But I'm happy with the result.

As always, I don't know how to draw hair and face, but who cares!

Is it obvious that I have a thing for Zoro covered in blood? Probably. Do I care? Not really.

Close up of Zoro's boobies and chest hehe (since I hate how the face turned out).

[transannabeth]

for research purposes (genuinely), i'm looking to make a list of what people consider Required Viewing™ (or reading) in terms of vampire fiction. while specifically this research is for paranormal romance, other iconic vampire fiction that add to the canon would be much appreciated. i would especially be interested in any stories about non western vampiric creatures since they are absolutely out there!

some (but not all!) of my current list includes

dracula by bram stoker

carmilla by sheridan le fanu

interview with the vampire by anne rice

twilight by stephenie meyer (yeah i know)

the awakening by l. j. smith

[grimark]

the problem with a lot of f/f fic is that people will do things like tag it with the words "useless lesbians" and i will have to be like sorry i'm not reading that

[corvid-canidae-art]

help it is late at night and I’m listening to the song “putting the dog to sleep” by the antlers. And now I actually kind of wish I was the dog in that song. I am NOT suicidal btw. I love living I love sunlight I love being on earth etc. HOWEVER I want that. I want to bleed out to death in a snowy forest where the sky is so so clear and I can see the stars as they were when I was born, being held in the arms of someone who loves me so dearly that to give me peace they shot me. Even if it kills them. Even if it breaks their heart, they love me enough to let me go gently because I begged them to. Because I wanted it to be them. I will always choose them, and it always will be even if it’s the last thing I do. I want to be held tight in their warm embrace in the snow surrounding us, my life bleeding out from me and into their gentle hands, the hands that held me when I cried for them, held me when we danced all those summers ago, cradled my face and wiped the tears from my eyes even though I snarled in fear, in pain. The hands that belonged to someone so human, so unafraid, so caring as to love a beast as I. To take my teeth in his neck with a smile and hold my talons despite my claws, to wipe the blood from my snout with a loving gaze. Someone I will love forever until my last dying breath and then beyond my life. Someone who will miss me for the rest of his. I want to go looking at his face, despite his tears, despite the blood on his hands, my blood. Despite it all, I want that. To be with him one last time like this, held close to his heart so I may hear him sing in his heartbeat once more to me of our time together. Then I close my eyes one final time, the stars gleaming so bright exactly as they looked the day I saw them the first time all those years ago, then blurring together as the world spins and fades away…

idk is that like. Normal. Is that a normal thing to want?? idk but i promise I’m fine ok i don’t WANT to die. But like when I do I want to go like that does that make sense. Something something dog motif something something being truly loved by someone that they’ll kill me if I asked because I want it to be them. Someone who will hold me as I bleed and fade away in their arms under the moonlit snow and stars. Someone who will let me go even if it kills them, but hold me in their arms as I do.

⬆️actual text messages I sent to one of my friends

straight people: I love boys so muchhhhh I love kissing boys they are so pretty!! I want to hug him and I want to dance in his arms on a nice spring day in the meadows!!

gay people: I want to bleed out in his arms while he cradles me tight, close to his chest, his heartbeat a song that fills my chest as my own heartbeat slows and fades. I want him to be the last thing I ever see, I want the life to spill from me slowly in the sparkling quiet night, into the hands of someone who loves me truly, the hands of someone who loves me enough to let me go even though it will kill him, will let me go because I wanted it to be him, because I will and always have chosen him, even if it’s the last thing I do. I want my life to stain the snow and frozen ground around us, color blooming into the blank winter forest for the first time in a long time, so that one day in the coming spring when life blooms anew my blood may bloom through the new shoots and buds and I may live on through them. I want to see the stars fade and blur around my beloved’s face, reach my bloodied paws up to his tear stained cheek and cradle it close, so warm as my life fades into the snow around us, as I grow colder in his embrace. To look in his eyes one last time, see the stars as they were when we met, when I was born, and again as I die.

Anyways here’s the song btw if you want to experience what it’s like to die bleeding out in your lovers arms as their dogboy/werewolf boyfriend or whatever. Idk. Shuffles away and hits my head on a tree branch on the way out.

[imavikingo]

Everytime I look at Tumblr and see the tl I remember why I hate endgame with a passion you couldn't understand.

They fucked up Steve and Bucky so bad (yes, Bucky too bc suddenly he doesn't matter/isn't even a secondary character that deserves to be near Steve)

It's so funny to me (not) bc they talked about gay characters being in the movie at panels and interviews and even talked about Stucky at some point (basically queerbaiting) for then... Steve not even acknowledging Bucky. An awkward and impersonal hug doesn't cut it.

And Steve suddenly yearning and talking about Peggy? When he didn't even mourned her that bad and already had let her go ages ago? They knew they fucked up in CATWS with Steve and Buckys relationship, so they tried to distance them and then inserted Peggy bc ofc

(they possibly didn't have the time for a new character and they already had fucked up pairing Nat and Bruce and Wanda and Vision). Steve didn't have anyone else he cared about so they couldn't give him a new girlfriend. So they used Peggy AGAIN.

I'm not mad bc "Stucky not canon grr"

No.

I'm fucking pissed off because they did the worst character assassination and friendship assassination possible. Every movie of Cap America revolved around Steve saving Bucky at some point and him caring about him above all else, and you want me to believe that Steven Grant Rogers didn't care about him when Bucky died in front of his eyes? AGAIN? That Peggy's death was more important and impactful for him? If that was the case then why the fuck did he crash the plane then? If he cared so much about Peggy since forever?

No, that was just lazy writing and a way to reinforce Steve's sexuality "He can't be gay and you can't say that bc he LOVES PEGGY"(even tho he only kissed her once, even tho he crashed the plane and didn’t give her the coordinates, he didn't really care that much after all) they could have paired him with Nat in later movies, but they didn't.

That's why I only raise my eyebrows a lil when people say that x character will be gay canonically in a marvel movie/series. Is more than possible they won't. And if they are they're Deadpool, a secondary character no one cares about (obscure in lore too, so they can cut them off) or is plain queerbaiting again (because yes, even if you don’t see Steve and Bucky’s relationship as romantic, they DID QUEERBAIT IT)

Steve and Buckys relationship wasn't even written in a romantic way (you can ship them or not), but they tried so hard to rectify Steve's heterosexuality in endgame, that they fucked up their character arcs on purpose. And now they will always feel hollow and inconclusive. A bad taste in the mouth, a painful reminder of what it was and a what? 11 year long? characterization.

Idk man, I know I've talked about this more than three times, but omfg Tumblr reminds me why I hate that fucking movie!!! It's not my fault!!!

I know I'm going to end up writing something out of spite bc I can't take it shdkdjjcif

"It's been more than 4 years get over it" NEVER

Also the bit with Johnny Storm in Deadpool and Wolverine was also a dig (a fuck you if you will) to the fans bc Deadpool explicitly calls him Cap. And it implies that Steve as a character (not that old Steve nonsense) won't be back.

It's funny they've remade over and over again some movies (Fantastic 4, Spiderman) changed actors for characters (James/war machine, Bruce) and they include them in the multiverse/plot, but they won't do the same to some movies and some characters when they fuck up their stories, because they know if they do, they will have to acknowledge WHY they did it. Like with James/war machine changing actors.

So yeah, that's one of the reasons I don't care about Marvel anymore.

**I mean remake the movies ((Also they Can't remake Cap America bc that would mean they need to remake every important movie. And they don't have the time, the money nor the need. So that's why they decided to fuck their character arcs))

or include some characters in multiverse (they're going to do that with Tony/RDJ/Dr Doom after all, no?) and they also won't remake Cap bc the movies are amazing.

But the point stands. Steve couldn't be in DaW bc that would imply he's an alternative one or that Old!Steve was an alternative one or wasn't even Steve to begin with. But they couldn't do that ofc, no, bc that would give the fans hope in seeing Steve and Bucky together once again. So they did a dig at the fans bc "haha you thought it was Steve, but it's Johnny!"

Idk if I'm making sense at this point I'm tired af, need to sleep.

The thing is that they fucked up Steve Rogers's arc on purpose (Bucky's too, and others charas too tbh) and now they expect the fans to accept everything they give us with open arms. And imho I won't accept shit.

"Deadpool saved the MCU" how? If the other og characters are DEAD or they fucked them up too? Or are the butt of the joke now? Don't make me laugh. Most people don't gaf bout the new charas bc they only are presented in series not everyone watches (only available in one place) or are presented with characters that are dead now or as a replacement for the og characters. They aren't interesting on their own (not really, at least in mcu) and that's why most of the new stuff isn't liked as much. If they wanted to present more characters the opportunity passed already.

Also now if you want to watch and really understand 1 movie (if you don't read the comics too) you need to watch like 20 other movies and 5 shows. it's fucking exhausting.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

~

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need. 

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine. 

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer. 

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again. 

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny. 

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business. 

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves. 

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company. 

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five. 

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home. 

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back. 

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items. 

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat. 

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close. 

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow. 

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech. 

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move. 

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either. 

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

[the-golden-comet]

✨Writing Share Tag🧞‍♂️✨

Thank you for tagging me @tragedycoded , @wyked-ao3 , @gioiaalbanoart , @theink-stainedfolk , @drchenquill , @leahnardo-da-veggie , and anyone else who has pinged me for a writing share! I’m feeling the love 💛💛💛✨

Since I’m in the editing phase of YWIMC, I’ve been more than excited to share more snippets from later chapters (without spoiling of course). So, without further ado….~

“Ali….your eyes!”

“Mmmm?” The djinn questioned.

“They’re…..they’re a deep brown…..” Noah reached up to pet Ali’s azure whiskers, scoffing through a smile in disbelief. “…..were these your eyes before….?”

Ali let a quick, weak breath exude from his chest as he nodded. “Yeah….I almost forgot their color…..”

Noah felt as if he were glimpsing into the past—what his habibi’s gentle gaze looked like before the curse. Deep cocoa…..a dark chocolate garnish over the sweetest baklava. Noah’s own olive eyes welled up in tears as Ali was quick to brush them away with his thumb.

Chopping some onions today and leaving this tag +open 😌🧅✨

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[manhattan-gamestop]

Does something ever happen to you and you’re like I’m gonna need at least 10 therapy sessions to get over that

[pen-inks]

Pen inks shows you all their poems⁉️

Open hands he bestow

The king, yet humble, with his crown

How eyes so holy, wry and frown

Is that the harp? Is it now?

Aye- listen to he who cry

The blood of the morose

Fills the sky

None shall come to thee if not for lie

Busy hand at the harp

And none shall heed to thee; If not what is last—

And tremble do my shudder dry—

The hands, down, thrown

If he, dear dove, dare not fly.

If not the cross,

Whom is the stallion of dawn,

If not what is past?

If not Mortes, death upon me, the last?

And shall useless choir sing low,

The blood of the harp, our lungs; Hark!

Ah! And the image of he

Does the wings of salvation

Feather upon me?

And thou shall not pluck a single from the plume

Aye, cry Hark!

Doom, Ires, whom?

Brutal and barrage

Crawl, rage, bawl!

Spines of the sun stab us gone

Blood of harp; note long.

Ah, I rest here.

And his voice to me

“Come back, come back!”

And my harp, heed at last,

“No,” I say, “The ripping of mast.”

The eyes they grimace

The lip, it foam.

The words they rave

Fist, curl;

Hand of stone.

And into my bosum;

Into my heart,

Into the harp, where busy hand start

Where holy feathers; they fall and fly

And sinner I, sinner I die.

NEXT POEM

He perch on throne thine wrath

He relinquish in memory hath

And would thou tremble at that

He say

“Thou shall shutter at the glass”

Tyrant restraint of thy mind

Estne in my judicious eye

Caedes! Alas! Removed my heart, did he see

Beat, bruising, moral flee

O’ woe of thee!

And upon the dreary throne

Rex de la pallid, horrid light shone!

I do not do as he so!

He who marionette the throne;

tremble the trees

And glass shutter and shriek

“Thou will not come” he so believed—

Ah, and wondrous plague!

Oblique arrival, goth and vague

Of wine in pax would drift away

And in the inferno of the past

Luctus! Shutter glass!

In crimson blood dare he lay

In stone, and blade of heart

Shriek they:

“He shatter Glass! He shudder free!”

He lay there as wrath of me

And yet, behind those glazed eyes

Glare and less

And mind portrait me as best

A horrid brutus!

And Mortes say up at me

“Sallow morose, sin of thee!—

Lie here the body, forgiveness plea”

Whom is the impetus of ires!

But the likeness of me!

NEXT POEM

I’ve always been fond of your embrace

Your crystal eyes, how they rest in your face

Your mouth so soft with its distinct taste

It makes me wonder if you feel the same

Every night I fantasize,

With the moon in its sigh

You approaching me at my door

“Hello friend” and not more

But we look and we share

Something we want there

Something we know in our hearts.

Very much.

And maybe to be entertained, my heart is beating in vain

and I wish you would pull me apart

so that this hideous beating was to stop

and even if they never know

a phallic symbol is always thrown,

We love so closely,

I feel at home

And even with our depart

How I want you to pluck me apart

like the feathers on my tongue

What is my lungs but a sack of filth? May your holding grasp choke them until my blood runs cold

until my eyes roll back

until you are told

But how can you stop, if I am dead?

You mustn’t, no shouldnt,

There’s all this blood to be shed.

My wings are twisted and crooked,

and God laughs in my pain.

My bones they poke out

the ivory in the gaze

I am nothing but wine and meat

A sinner unsaved

Feast upon me!

I consent to your game!

Maggot like do!

I cry and sob, but it’s none to you.

They slither, my insides, like mulberry snakes

and your teeth, so white, will be colored the same

I wrestle and choke and bleed and cry

I beg for you to let me die

But to make my whines cease,

You break my jaw, expose my teeth

With all this sickness and blood and gore

Out jumps my heart, beating and sore

Beating.

The hideous beating.

It’s all in my jaw

So cold and broken,

and to never be thaw

A face of winter

White and blank

I turn plum,

My mouth agape

But in the end, with all this agony,

the price of your love

it kills me

You grab my face

“I love you most”

And to your lips

So sweet

So raw

I simply…

And that is all.

And when I am dead

as you suckle my lung

all fall out, the feathers on my tongue

NEXT POEM

Mist was in the air

I looked up above

It tickled on my face

Feather of the dove

I asked it to rain

But with a refuse to pour

“You ask me so rudely! Frozen to your core!”

I ask it again, I once more implore

“Please do rain”

“I refuse to pour!”

“Snow, you must!”

“Mist I be!”

I looked out, and abounded

Oh forgetful me!

Ghosted was the memory, right under my toes

And once I had realized

I was unknown

I needed the rain

I pleaded once more

And with a lethargic sigh,

It started to pour

Right onto my head

Right into my mind

Wash away the dust, the dirt, the grime

Listen to me, listen as I speak

I reveal such a secret, one I shall not keep

I was simply asking

Begging, implore

Heartache, throbbing,

Coughing so sore

And for only a while

Did the rain dare to pour

And when I was washed

And the sun washed on shore,

I sheepishly smiled,

And begged no more

NEXT POEM

The Wolf of Massachusetts

There was a certain wind

That laid so high

A scent so faint

Like the tear in my eye

I tell you this tale

With much discrete

I tell you so softly

Heed me as I speak

I lived up North

A healthy man

A wealth to be respected

known among the land

And I walked upright

On my Jersey boots

On tether a dog

With an acute snoot

And as I make my way with the rifle

I pinprick the sound

It was ever so trifle

So faint

So dainty

I tensed my loose

And thereupon my track

Was The Brute of Massachute

I am a keen man

And I knew the land so well

I could decipher a noise

With no prevail

And I crept so sneakily

I caressed the ground

I did so quietly

As not to rustle abound

The pelt was of cloud

Like storm above

A transgression of lambs

With a tail that hung

Between his haunches

I could see

An animal painted crimson

Torn by he

As the hunter I am, as I was before

To return to town, my snoot implored

But to refuse such pelage

No, I’d never wanted more

But no! I was foolish!

The beast was the shrewd!

He snapped suddenly

For what could I do?

The monster growled

The largest in Massachute

I stepped back meekly

Who could save me, oh who?

And with each step,

I tell you as he do,

He grew more robust

He grew and grew!

Horns of the ram!

Bust of the hen!

I thought I was to never hunt again!

It growled like a cat!

It hissed too!

So helpless was I,

For what could I do?

I fired a shot, I fired two

But it was futile

Who could help me, who?

Fruitless, per se

While whimper from I

My snoot, a bay

And I, so clearly

Remember the day

The Brute of Massachusetts

Came to my dismay

The horns like lamb

Ivory in day

But the shade of brute

Choked the sun away

My snoot it dashed

And I was at last,

Met with no companion on my side

No where to seek refuge and hide

And I remember last

Among the blurry past

The creature’s crimson eyes

The kind no fauna has ever hast

Now if you fancy me

Don’t fancy me mad!

The scarlet is bore into my skull

You may look when you’re mourning and sad

I claim so big! It is in my mind

The hunger that lay so darkly upon those eyes

It had the teeth of daggers

It had the fangs of knives

It had a heart of frozen time!

The saliva… it dripped so slow

It hung in glass

And hung in a row

And came upon me!

The wretched brute!

And pounced upon me, The Creature of Massachute!

But I, a hunter as before

A hunter until death

A hunter till sore

I knew that if I was to go

Then glory it may be!

The creature’s wit was no match for me

Logic? I could

But instinct?

Not I.

But in such time, I was as vigilant as flies

And stared up the beast, into its’ very eye

And with a swing of the rifle and an audible wack

Fell down the Massachute

To aid him no pack

And up he arose

And vaulted on me!

His teeth gnashed!

I clambered

I cried!

But so stubborn, the hunter I

Slipping out of the grasp,

And with my Jersey boot,

I kicked down the beast

The brute of Massachute

And I stomped it down

And grabbed my rifle too!

And with a BOOM!
I CLAIMED VICTORY ON THE MASSACHUTE!

You fancy me crazy

You fancy me mad!

But around my neck

Horns of ram

Lay so subordinately

Around my pipe

In the fire, it gleams,

The intrinsic stripes

No goat I’ve ever seen

Has the pelt I claimed as a lad

And I conclude the story I have

I tell you my truth, with arrogance and glad

That the Wolf of Massachusetts was slaughtered at last.

NEXT POEM

Upon the window

I look on the candle

And the fire that dances upon it

the riches of past

I dis-lawfully grasp

So very egotistic

A creative mind

inside I

I think of that before me

I peer at the flame

And make a game

Of fantastic phony

If the flame were a woman

so slim in her frame

a dancer of fire

A dancer of fame

and upon her dress there lick different shapes

As she convulses in grotesque ways

in her stomach, it is dense

Brighter and bolder than the rest

She shed not a tear to flow away

No,but I am not that way

I ask her a question

"The weight on my heart?"

She replies with only a strut and a hop

And upon her sea of rays,

she gracefully grande plie

And I look at the time on my watch

one of the many who line up on my haunch

"And for what must I sore?"

The ballet turns phoenix

abolishing the core

Feathers abound and astray

But no reply for the things I dismay

I ask her again

answer I implore

"The weight on my heart?"

But she says no more

My face grows hot

I red when fall is to stay

I beg her to give it away

But she dances gracefully

And I cry painfully

"The weight on my heart?"

I ask once more

no reply for I

I am no more

I snuff out the candle with a lick of my finger

And the remaining wax falls so slowly

as if to linger

to remind me that of my murder upon her

Was my own guilt of the reminder

NEXT POEM

A bunch of words

Spewed on a page

Are not so wise at long

You say a thing

About love and gain

And you leave it out to thaw

You break it every other word

For a

sentence

you

can just

say

Call yourself an artist

Yet you do this all day

If you call yourself a poet

And follow that simple law

It's just a phrase

For the gaze

And not a poem at all

NEXT POEM

Balls balls wiener balls

And upon the sultry crimson

That lay before I

He came to me to speak

Softly, his whispers rising high

"Dear, I fear

You are not near

The one I do seek

And if you wish

To accomplish this

Then you take order from me"

And for the stumble tumble wry

And upon the whimpering quake

The hand of he

Struck upon me

My heart pulled to ache

"Think of heaven and sky above, think of what's at stake

Think of glittering glamorous groves

And fluffy Angel cake

Think of what I want for me

And what I deserve

And if you were smart

The striking of art

You'd have the nerve"

And dear me my lie crystal skies

Across the darken cove

Would I stagger

As he went madder

I fell below

A blade of good man and mind

A blade of wonderful sheek

The price to pay

A horrid game

A slash upon my cheek

Blood trickle down my face,

Among the softened scars

Like tiger flesh

Or a random guess

Among the looking stars

Hand grip around my pipe

Busy as if rope

And pull and choke

My will broke

And gasp for the floor

Starry glittering freedom

Handsome wonderful things

I want to see

Beyond the sea

Beyond the rushing lake

Pry my hands

wry my face

Wrinkled, pitiful, cry

But he say, address my name

With a voice not mumble nor meek

"Fine the seek I dare shall find

Find it with your eye

And then we will see

Another week

The true man who should die"

NEXT POEM

"My dear friend left me

On Tuesday cold and drew

With a bottle of water

And a dollar for stew

A flute in his baggage

His voice not ravish

But rather silk and skin

With butter flat

And a tip of hat

Off his trip began

And off my dear friend go,

Luck in his gait

To distant lands

Beyond man

Beyond the glittering lake

Discreetly intangible,

Choke dear me on light

Would it be unfashionable

To reach the night

Ah, and what wonders does glee provide me

If not certainty

If not insanity?

Would it be that I would dare clamber upon

The hearty seed

And shoot into the sky?

Across the bridge

Graze the ridge

With my sugarcane eye

And there my imaginary mind go

beyond the quivering snake,

And beyond the venom of wolves howling

And stinging of fate

No, it seems, beyond the bend

Beyond the mulberry grove

Where blood and shatter and nothing of matter send

Things I know

Beyond my dearest mindset

God foresaken me

And watch my friend and dear holy men

Curse at the sky for me

So I stare at a page

And sleep in my cage

And know that I am free

I act like my quick feathered life

Has much before me"

THATS ALL

@cecilthecowardly