#Keyboard Rape
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
⚠️ TSC spoilers and also chat about the thanksgiving chapter of TRK below:
i know no one wants to look at this chapter/scene too closely so apologies but i mentioned this to friends a few days back and i need to share.
i think about "aaron was faster" like all the time. do you ever wonder what that did to neil? it haunts me. there is something so yummy about it all, about aaron getting to kill for andrew — on a twinyards level but also on a... neil gaining respect for aaron level. HOWEVER. that line and all those questions have been tumbling about in my mind extra hard since The Sunshine Court because neil was ON IT. he did not waste one fucking second when it came to jean. he asked stuart a question and he wrote a name down in that napkin. that was it. he got it done immediately and i can’t stop thinking about it.
how many times has neil regretted freezing, how many times has he replayed it in his head, how many times has he promised himself he would never hesitate again...
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
I keep seeing posts abt lesbophobia enacted by bi women that I broadly agree with until op slides in some implication that bi women wield societal power over lesbians and then I'm like. Well
#like that one (absolutely wretched and rank) poll that was going around in the past few weeks#i think telling lesbians that they should 'be bi' (for whatever reason or justification) is uh. disgusting! dont do that#however people likening a poll that was made in (extremely) poor taste to...actual real-life corrective rape....guys idk.#like the safety im afforded by being in a straight-appearing relationship is negated by the fact that a lot of men#will feel threatened by the fact that im not solely interested in them and that in and of itself is somehow indicative of infidelity#not gonna do the whole 'erm guys we should be making out instead of fighting!' bc that shit comes across as rly uh. idk the word for it#belittling#and it tamps down any attempt at good-faith communication#but we are in the same shitty boat together l#didnt mean that l. mobile keyboard
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Misplaced Priorities
Jenna Ortega x F!Reader
Contains: Angst, Rape
You stared at your phone, Jenna’s text lighting up the screen for the fourth time in two weeks.
“Hey, Percy needs me for something. Can we rain check? Love you.”
The dinner reservation you’d been so excited about was now pointless. You looked down at the little black dress you’d carefully chosen, mocking you from where it hung on the closet door.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. What could you even say?
Instead of replying, you dropped your phone onto the bed and sat down, burying your face in your hands. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the now-familiar feelings of rejection and disappointment welled up inside you.
It wasn’t just tonight; this was becoming a pattern. Jenna always had time for Percy. It didn’t matter how much you planned or how much you tried—he was the constant in her life.
You thought back to the first time she canceled on you. It was supposed to be a movie date—a rare day off for her during filming. You’d been excited, even giddy, but then she called.
“I told you, Percy’s my friend!” she snapped when you asked why she couldn’t reschedule with him.
“I know that, but it feels like you’re choosing him over me,” you said, your voice trembling.
“God, Y/N, not everything’s about you! Why do you always make it about you?”
That night, you cried yourself to sleep.
Things only got worse from there. On the rare occasion Jenna did show up, she was late or distracted. One time, you planned a picnic at your favorite park. She arrived two hours late, unapologetic and laughing about something Percy had said earlier that day.
You hated him.
But it wasn’t just because of the time he monopolized. There was something deeper, something Jenna didn’t know.
The Wednesday Season 1 wrap party was supposed to be a celebration. You weren’t much of a party person, but Jenna had convinced you to come.
“Just for a bit,” she’d said, her smile lighting up the dim room. “I want you there with me.”
The music was loud, the lights dim. You clung to Jenna at first, but as the night went on, she drifted off to mingle, leaving you alone. That was when Percy approached you.
“You look tense,” he said, handing you a drink.
You hesitated but accepted, not wanting to seem rude. “Just not much of a party person.”
He laughed. “Come on, loosen up. It’s a celebration!”
The drink was bitter, the alcohol burning your throat. But as the minutes passed, something felt off. Your limbs grew heavy, your vision blurred, and the room spun.
“Hey, you okay?” Percy’s voice was close—too close.
“I… I don’t feel good,” you murmured, your head lolling.
The next thing you remembered was waking up in an unfamiliar room, your clothes disheveled, and Percy sitting on the edge of the bed, smirking.
“You’ll thank me later,” he said casually, as if what he’d done was nothing.
You didn’t tell anyone. Who would’ve believed you? Percy was charming, well-liked. And you were just… you.
*
Jenna’s parents’ anniversary party was supposed to be a celebration, but you felt out of place the moment you walked into the house. Laughter and chatter filled the air as family and friends mingled, but all you could feel was the growing distance between you and Jenna.
She’d barely said two words to you since you arrived, her attention flitting between her parents, siblings, and a dozen other people. You sat quietly in the living room, nursing a glass of water and trying to blend into the background.
After what felt like hours, you slipped outside to the backyard, needing air. The night was cool, the stars above twinkling in the clear sky. You wrapped your arms around yourself, letting the silence soothe your frayed nerves.
“Hey,” Aliyah’s voice startled you.
You turned to see her standing at the patio door, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity.
“Mind if I join you?”
You hesitated but nodded.
She walked over, standing beside you. “You’ve been quiet tonight. Actually, for a while now.”
“I’m fine,” you said automatically, your gaze fixed on the stars.
Aliyah gave you a skeptical look. “Come on, Y/N. I know ‘fine,’ and this isn’t it. What’s going on?”
You sighed, your shoulders sagging. “It’s nothing, Aliyah.”
“Bullshit,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Talk to me.”
The lump in your throat grew as tears welled up in your eyes. “I don’t think Jenna and I are okay.”
Aliyah frowned. “Why not? You two are always so solid.”
“Not lately,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “She’s always with Percy. She cancels on me all the time, and when I try to talk to her about it, she shuts me down. She makes me feel like I’m the problem.”
Aliyah’s frown deepened. “That’s not fair to you.”
You shook your head, your voice trembling. “It’s more than that.”
Aliyah waited, her expression softening.
You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “At the Wednesday wrap party… he drugged me.” Your voice broke, and you felt tears streaming down your face. “And he… he didn’t stop, even when I begged him to.”
Aliyah’s face hardened, her hands clenching into fists. “Y/N…”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” you continued, your voice shaking. “Who would believe me? And Jenna… she’s happy when she’s with him. I couldn’t ruin that for her.”
“She’d want to know,” Aliyah said fiercely. “She’d never choose him over you.”
“She already does,” you whispered. “Every time.”
*
The car ride home was silent. Jenna’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and you stared out the window, the weight of her overhearing your confession pressing down on you like an anchor.
Finally, Jenna pulled over to the side of the road, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.
“Y/N,” she said, her voice trembling.
You didn’t look at her. “What?”
“I heard you,” she whispered. “At the party. I heard what you told Aliyah.”
Your heart sank, the dread settling in your stomach like lead. “Jenna, I—”
“I didn’t know,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “I didn’t know what he did to you.”
You closed your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm. “You didn’t want to know, Jenna. Every time I tried to talk to you about how I felt, you shut me down. You made me feel like I was the problem, like I was asking for too much.”
“I was selfish,” Jenna admitted, tears streaking her cheeks. “I was so caught up in my work and my friendships, I didn’t see what it was doing to you. But I swear, I’ll cut him off. I’ll never speak to him again.”
A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “It’s not just about cutting him off, Jenna. It’s about trust. It’s about priorities. And you… you didn’t choose me.”
Her face crumpled. “I’m choosing you now. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. Just… please, don’t give up on us.”
You turned to her, your voice hollow. “Do you even realize how hard it was for me? Watching you laugh with him, defend him, when I couldn’t even tell you what he did? Do you know what that felt like?”
Jenna reached for your hand, but you pulled away, your throat tight. “I believed in us, Jenna. I loved you enough to stay quiet because I thought your happiness mattered more than my pain. But I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being second.”
Her lips trembled. “You’re not second. You’ve never been second.”
“Then why does it feel like I am?” you whispered, your voice cracking.
She didn’t have an answer.
The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You turned back to the window, blinking away the tears that blurred the streetlights outside.
“I need time,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “To figure out if I can forgive you. If I can move past this.”
Jenna’s breath hitched. “Please don’t walk away.”
“I’m not walking away,” you said softly. “But I’m not staying, either. Not until I know it’s safe to.”
Her sobs filled the car as she slumped forward, her hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.
When the car pulled into your driveway, you stepped out without another word. The sound of the door closing behind you felt like the end of something fragile, something that had once been beautiful but was now irrevocably broken.
You didn’t know if you could piece it back together.
And as Jenna drove away, the red taillights disappearing into the night, you stood there, wondering if you ever really could.
#jenna ortega x reader headcanon#jenna ortega angst#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader angst#angst#wednesday addams x reader#wednesday addams#cairo sweet#cairo sweet x reader#jenna ortega x y/n#tara carpenter x female reader#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega x reader
207 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Assistant * Epilogue
Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger, necophilia. These warnings are not exhaustive and some triggers may not be specified for plot reasons.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.
Characters: Clark Kent
Note: We came back.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖
🖊🖊🖊
The red blaze sears into the large stone at the edge of the cliff. Clark huffs and reins in his fury, balling it up in his chest as he heaves. He blinks and looks up the burnt husk in his hand. Her body dangles from his grip, lifeless as what's left of her skull is a pile of ash on the ground.
He drops her and recoils, grasping his skull as he snarls. Why did he do that? No! Why did she run? All these months, up here, living together, building their dream, and it ends in dust.
He staggers and leans against a tree.
He’s back in the office, hovering his fingers aimlessly over his keyboard, staring at a flashing cursor. Then he hears her voice. He didn’t know who she was then. Or what she was. His everything.
He sees a hint of her pink plaid skirt as she passes by his office. She’s getting the tour. He stares for a moment then returns to his blank page.
He can’t focus as he hears her muffled laugh. He sighs and grabs his cold mug. He takes it out into the hall and into the lounge. As he dumps it, he hears her getting closer.
“And this is the kitchen, or lunch room, whatever,” Glenn explains. “And our star reporter, Clark Kent.”
Clark looks over his shoulder as he rinses out his cup. He smiles and hesitates to get the quip out as he gets a look at her. Her eyes round in amazement at him. He can’t remember the last time his own wife looked at him like that.
“I think you should reserve that for Lois,” he scoffs. Glenn chuckles in that bootlicker way.
“Don’t let him be humble,” Glenn says then introduces her.
She gives a small wave and a wiggle, “hi, Mr. Kent.”
He smiles. He’s in love.
He sits up suddenly and nearly lets out a wail to the trees. It’s those other voices that keep his muted. He closes his eyes and hangs his head back. Everything gone. Everything he sacrificed for her.
His job, Lois, and his child. He saw it inside her. Growing. She didn’t know yet. He was going to surprise her. Again. He loves giving her surprises.
Loved.
He looks over at her corpse and whimpers. He’s seen the worst of this planet, of these people. Blood, marrow, bone, bruises... he’s faced the worst villain from across the galaxy. This is unlike any carnage he’s ever seen. He is the greatest monster he’s ever known.
He’s not some farm kid. He’s not some saviour. He’s a twisted fucking alien.
He exhales and stands. He paces, mindless of his naked form. He can see beyond the cliff, the outline of the swimmers, he can see for miles the wildlife and thick trunks.
He swallows, his mouth acidic. He keeps his back to her and head back toward the trees. He’ll tear the place down. Burn it. He’ll go somewhere. Somewhere not earth.
He stops before he reaches the trees. He can’t leave her there. He wretches as he makes himself turn back. He brings his fist to his mouth as he crosses back to her lifeless form. The top of her neck is melted and black. Her flesh stinks from the burns.
He drops to his knees beside her. He slides his arms under her gently and scoops her up. He hugs her to him and his eyes tingle. He stands with a wobble. It takes several steps to find his balance.
His heart thumps as he turns and carries her into the trees, the sway of the leaves, the shrill joy of the swimmers, muting into a bitter silence. His footsteps echo through the forest as the chain links tinkle over the ground. Her warmth is draining from her.
He lays her at the threshold of the house. He should burn it with her inside. Burn the whole damn planet.
He can’t.
He starts digging with his bare hands. It doesn’t take long. When he’s done, his nails, his knuckles, his knees are dirty.
He reaches to her as he stands in the hole. He doesn’t look as he drags her over by her ankle. He takes the chain off her before he puts her at the bottom, between his feet. She’s flat, her arms limp, legs too. He looks at her, unable to make himself leave her.
His body moves on its own. He’s blinded with tears as his grief overflows. He’ll never feel her again. He wants to feel her.
He’s between her legs before he can think. He curls an arm under her, crushing her as he guides himself along her cunt. She’s still warm enough. He closes her eyes to block out her stubbed neck.
He ruts into her as the dirt tamps down beneath the shape of her. His knees sick as he pounds with everything he’s lost, everything he ever wanted to give her. He cums quickly but doesn’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.
The night falls and passes over him. He stills but doesn’t leave her. He stays inside her until he feels the stiffness in her. Until the chill has overtaken her completely.
He grunts as he forces his way out of her. He winces and digs his fingers into the dirt wall to help himself stand. He hops out and goes inside. He finds the plaid skirt. The one he went back for when they got here.
He brings it to the hole and slips it onto her. She doesn’t look like her. Not just because the missing part. She’s truly gone from him. He feels her death inside him.
He’s numb as he shovels the dirt with his hands. He covers her, fills up the hole, then sits on it and watches the house beneath the sunlight. He can hear people. All the way down at the lake. They’re happy. Why the fuck are they so happy?
He’s not.
Darkness comes again. The house is still standing. He goes inside.
He doesn’t come out. Not for a while. Not at the days grow cooler. Not as the snows come. Not as the thaw softens the earth around her body. Only when the sunlight wakes him does his hibernation end.
His hair is messy and long, his beard too. He has no mind for it. He hears the splashing down at the lake. He can see the women diving from the dock. He stands and goes to the door.
He walks out into the summer haze. The grass has grown over her grave. He stomps past it without a glance and heads for the trees.
He can’t get her back, but he doesn’t need to be alone. What he is, he doesn’t need love. Love? It’s so human. So pathetic.
He won’t make the same mistake twice; a cage will do better than the chain.
End.
Read the sequel.
#clark kent#dark clark kent#dark!clark kent#clark kent x reader#superman#dcu#dc#the assistant#series#fic#dark fic#dark!fic
114 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Lost Haven (3/16)
[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]
[ warnings: kissing, incest obviously, smut, the angst, description of cruel physical violence, bad, bad things ]
[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]
Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.
Song used in this chapter: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds.
Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
For the next few days, he felt that he was functioning like a well-oiled mechanism without thoughts or feelings, without experiencing or reliving anything within himself. His mind was filled with complete emptiness: he preferred this state of affairs, because whenever a part of him hidden deep in his darkness started to come to the fore, he felt the need to write back to her.
Thank you.
She wrote it to him the next day.
He often went back to that message and looked at it for long minutes, maybe even hours, asking himself the questions his fingers wanted to tap out on the keyboard of his phone.
Who did this to you?
What were you doing there?
How do you feel?
He felt uncomfortable with the thought of how much it had affected him. Their reunion years later was shocking to him, and by virtue of him being the only person who had really experienced this reconciliation, there was something intimate and mysterious about it.
He rubbed his fingers against each other, feeling a shudder at the memory of how soft her skin was beneath his hand.
He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to control himself.
"Rough night?" Alys asked, sitting next to him at the bar, like him waiting for the club owner, clearly also having some business to attend to.
They fucked several times, from his perspective to simply get off: there was no finesse in these acts, but some kind of mutual understanding − they both just wanted to relax and didn't expect anything more from each other.
They spoke several times afterwards and he found that he actually liked her: she was a direct and confident woman, teasing and calculating, just like him.
Looking at her he felt he was looking in a mirror and it was an interesting experience.
He knew from his co-workers that Alys also liked women and he often saw her hitting on young girls in clubs.
She at least didn't slip rape pills into their drinks, he thought regretfully, taking a sip of his whisky as he tried to focus, the loud music around him made him feel like his head was about to explode.
"In a way." He muttered reluctantly, looking around, feeling an unpleasant squeeze in his stomach at the memory of her numb body lying in that toilet.
Vulnerable, forsaken, helpless.
"I heard about your heroic act. Apparently, you carried a little girl out of the Heavenly Beach before anyone had time to get into her panties." She sneered, taking a loud sip of beer from her bottle. He pressed his lips together, hearing the loud hiss of bubbles as she set it back down on the countertop. "Since when are you so caring?"
"It was my niece." He replied coolly, wanting to cut off the subject, drinking his whisky to the end in a deep gulp.
Alys furrowed her brow and laughed, stroking her chin, intrigued.
"So you're a good uncle, huh?"
"Fuck off."
"Why are you upset? Do you like her a little too much?"
She hissed as he grabbed her hard by the arm and jerked her, making her almost fall off her seat. He stopped, breathing heavily through his nose when he felt her pocket knife between his thighs.
"You'd better watch out, my friend, if you ever want to fuck anyone again."
He let go of her and she stepped back, massaging the sore place on her arm, looking at him angrily.
"You're fucked up."
He stood up, furious, heading for the back of the club even though he should have waited for someone to come out to him, figuring he couldn't stand to be in this place for a moment longer.
He felt like he was suffocating and wanted to leave already.
Her sleeping face as a child lying next to him on a pillow and her sleeping face then, in his car, leaning against the window, merged into one in his mind.
He realised with horror that only thinking about her made him feel anything.
"How much longer do I have to wait? You think I don't fucking have anything better to do?" He growled to one of the bodyguards, who grunted loudly, shifting from foot to foot, terrified.
They'd all heard about his scar and artificial eye, and they all knew what he'd done to some men who hadn't paid on time.
"I'll ask the boss if he's done yet." The man muttered.
He rolled his eyes as he heard the distinct, almost animal-like moans of two men from behind the door. After a moment, a young boy, all red and welted, walked out of the room, throwing him a look from which he felt discomfort, staggering with difficulty.
Tyland Lannister sighed heavily, standing in the door frame, looking at him disapprovingly, all sweaty.
If it wasn't for the fact that he and his brother dressed a little differently, he wouldn't have been able to tell them apart.
The fascination towards boys was apparently also inherited by both of them, he thought with a sneer.
"I said I'd come soon." He said.
"I don't have time for your soon."
"Jason gave you half the money last time, as agreed. I have to earn the other half, I need more time."
"Your time is up. I told him that you have two weeks, not a day more."
"Come on, we'll get along, after all…" He didn't finish as his fist slammed into his face − Tyland staggered backwards, falling to the floor of the room, and he closed the door behind him, leaving his stunned, big bodyguards behind.
He knew they wouldn't do anything to him.
It was his grandfather who ruled this town.
"Tyland." He said calmly, walking towards him with a lazy step – Lannister began to move backwards on his elbows, holding his swollen cheek with his hand, a trickle of blood dripping from his nose.
He crouched in front of him, pulling out his pocket knife, sliding the blade out.
"− n-no − please −"
"− which one do you choose − left or right? −"
"− please − please, I promise I'll have the full amount for tomorrow, I promise −" He mumbled, choking on his own tears, looking like a big, bearded, helpless, pathetic child.
He tsked, shaking his head, a smile of amusement on his face that didn't reach his eye.
"− we agreed for today − do you think I'll want to come here tomorrow and look at your face? −" He sneered, his voice on the verge of a dangerous hiss indicating that he was losing patience. Tyland nodded, his hands raised in a pleading, submissive gesture.
He looked like a dog who was laying on his back to prevent the other one from biting him.
"− I understand − I'm sorry − I'll think of something right away, okay? −"
"− now −"
"− y-yes − yes, I'll call one place − alright? −" He muttered.
He lifted his pocket knife up, grinning broadly, showing that he was able to wait another moment.
Lannister quickly took his phone out of his trousers and, with trembling hands, dialled a number. After a moment, someone on the other end spoke up.
"I need a quick loan. Twenty thousand. I know, I know I already owe you, but it's very, very important, do you understand?" He mumbled in a breaking voice.
He thought with disgust that he looked pathetic.
What did he expect?
"− please − please, help me −" He muttered, but his caller hung up.
He sighed heavily, spinning his pocket knife between his fingers.
"− time's up −"
When he returned to his flat the first thing he dreamed of was taking a shower. He watched impassively as the red-tinted water ran down his body, washing him of his sins like Saint John in the Jordan. He closed his eyes, trying to tell himself that God was forgiving him.
He had no choice.
He distanced himself from what his hands were doing, as if it wasn't his body, as if he was being directed by someone else. As a result, he felt no remorse, because he felt that he wasn't the one doing all those terrifying things.
It wasn't him who had done it, it was his dark shadow, the same one his niece had feared at night.
The thought of her made him feel an unpleasant sting in his chest. He pressed his lips together in an attempt to restrain himself, leaning his palms against the cold tiles, but his mind showed him her peaceful face again anyway, sleeping in his car.
She was so close he could smell her.
The smell of vanilla.
The next day his mother called him saying they needed to talk.
"Your father wants to throw a big party to celebrate his sixtieth birthday." She said, her voice trembling for some reason, as if something about this fact bothered her.
"Let him do what he wants." He hummed, pouring Vhagar's dog food into her bowl.
"He wants to invite Rhaenyra and her husband. Their children." She said, and he froze and cursed, seeing that he had poured too much, and some of the brown balls had spilled onto the floor.
"− fuck − has he completely lost his mind? −" He asked, running his hand over his face, feeling his heart begin to pound like crazy.
The possibility of meeting her while she was conscious made him feel his mind go into a state of panic.
He wasn't ready.
He couldn't.
He wanted so desperately to see her again.
"− he had already called her and she had said yes − Aemond, things are getting worse with him −"
"− I can just hear −" He growled, walking around the flat, feeling his emotions buzzing inside him.
"− I mean it − he's seriously ill −" She muttered, and he stopped in place, once again feeling the emptiness in his head.
"− what? −"
"− only me and your grandfather know about it − he asked not to tell you − he thinks it might be his last birthday −"
To his despair, his father demanded that everyone come to his birthday party, apparently wanting to put together in some pathetic way what had long been shattered.
Neither his grandfather nor his mother succeeded in dissuading him from this idea − his father rented a large banquet hall in a country manor house, an hour's drive from their town, and decreed that the whole event would be held there.
The manor also had rooms where they were to stay overnight, but he had no intention of remaining there any longer than necessary.
For the next few days, he would wake up in the night drenched in cold sweat, dreaming again and again of cutting her face with a pocket knife despite her screams and cries, her terrified eyes and lips parted in terror, leaving him no peace.
He was afraid of himself and what he was capable of.
He was afraid he would do something to her.
He was the last to arrive, the few missed calls from his mother indicated that everyone was waiting for him. He sat in his car for a long time, looking at the sun setting in the distance, thinking about that evening, that day, hearing the sound of the sea.
He tried not to think or feel when he got inside, all tense, his heart beating so hard in his chest that he felt like he was dying.
He was immediately struck by the loud 80s music − Don't You (Forget About Me), Simple Minds's song playing in the background, made him feel like a child again.
Won't you come see about me? I'll be alone, dancing, you know it, baby
Tell me your troubles and doubts Giving everything inside and out and Love's strange, so real in the dark Think of the tender things that we were working on
Slow change may pull us apart When the light gets into your heart, baby
Don't you, forget about me Don't, don't, don't, don't Don't you, forget about me
He felt a sense of discomfort hearing this lyrics, looking around at the crowd of people, his father's acquaintances, friends and business partners − he knew most of them, now laughing with drinks in their hands, doing disgusting and terrifying things on a daily basis, just like him.
His breath froze in his chest when he suddenly spotted her silhouette sitting at one of the tables.
She was looking at him, dressed in a simple, elegant, knee-length matte dress with long sleeves and a white collar, her long, dark hair loose.
He thought she looked like a miss from a good home, educated, full of culture and familiarity with the world that he lacked, feeling a sting in his chest at the thought.
Don't you try and pretend It's my feeling we'll win in the end I won't harm you or touch your defenses Vanity and security, ah
Her hands clenched into fists at the sight of him, something pleading in her gaze, as much as in her parted, sweet lips, looking so luscious, so soft.
She made a movement as if to rise from her chair, but he turned suddenly, panicking, walking towards the table where his brother was sitting.
"− where the fuck have you been? −" Aegon asked him, he, however, heard him only partially, his gaze returning to her: he swallowed hard when he saw that her seat was empty, but he did not see her either among the dancing couples or anywhere else.
Fuck.
"− are you listening to me? −" He asked, and he nodded.
As you walk on by Will you call my name? As you walk on by Will you call my name? When you walk away
"− there was terrible traffic −" He lied.
He lied constantly.
Lying to himself and others was so easy.
It helped.
It helped him live with what he did.
Who he was.
Aegon and Helaena were talking amongst themselves, he, however, was unable to focus − all he could think about was the fact that he couldn't calm down and needed a cigarette.
He pretended not to hope at all that she had gone out into the garden, that he would meet her there, that he would be able to look at her lips again.
At her eyes.
Her terrified face, the blade of his knife sinking into her skin above her brow.
God, make it stop.
"− where are you going? − you just got here −" His brother called out after him seeing that he was about to leave again.
"− I'm going for a smoke − I'll be right back −"
He stepped outside, feeling the pleasant evening breeze again, and looked around feeling his heart in his throat. He stopped when he spotted her sitting silhouette in the darkness at the end of the pier that overlooked a small pond.
He stared at her for a moment, feeling the urge to run away again, but some part of him that terrified him told him to approach her.
So he did.
Step by step he moved closer to her, as if to something inevitable, his death, his doom.
She turned, hearing him − her eyes widened in shock, her lips parted again, but this time in disbelief. She stood up from her place and he stopped a few steps away from her, pulling a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket.
"− what were you doing there? −" He asked, but it seemed to him that it was not his mouth, not his throat that left those sounds, cold and dry.
She blinked, as if she didn't understand what he meant, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.
"− what do you mean? −"
He slipped the cigarette into his mouth and leaned over, lighting the lighter, the warm flame making its dark tip begin to smoke. He took a drag, feeling that his hands were shaking, that although on the outside his posture was stony, on the inside everything in him was quivering.
"− what were you doing in that club −" He explained. "− looking for a new experiences? −"
She furrowed her eyebrows at his words but did not answer him, which frustrated him.
"− I don't like to ask twice −" He said more sharply than he intended. He saw that she swallowed hard, looking at him with fear and something else he couldn't define.
Her gaze was both terrified and warm at the same time, making him feel a familiar tickle in his lower abdomen that he hadn't felt in years.
God, no, he thought.
"− I wanted to find out how my father died −"
There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them, which was broken by his mischievous laughter. He tapped his finger on his cigarette making the ash fall to the ground and took another drag, its tip turning red.
"− and what did you find out? −" He sighed, letting the smoke out through his nose, looking down at her.
"− that your grandfather killed him −" She whispered in a trembling voice.
His hand froze in mid-motion before he laughed out loud.
"− who told you that? − Larys Strong? − was he the one who dragged you there? −" He sneered as if he was speaking to a small child, seeing with every word by her face full of pain and disbelief that he was right.
He walked closer to her, towering over her, feeling some sudden, strange surge of confidence, his heart pounding like mad with anticipation.
It seemed to him that he was dreaming all this, that he was about to wake up in his bed in his flat.
"− it was Larys who reported him − after the death of his father and brother, all the fortune fell to him − my grandfather just passively looked on −" He said, taking a drag on the remains of his cigarette, looking with interest at her pale face.
He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than they were then, surrounded by a fan of her dark lashes, her eyebrows arched in disbelief, her puffy lips shiny with glitter, probably from some kind of lip gloss, parted in a heavy, drawn-out breath, as if every word he said caused her pain.
"− did you know about this? −"
"− everyone knew −" He replied. "− he passed sentence on himself when he started talking with the police − his days were numbered anyway −"
She surprised him when she moved suddenly in front of him and passed him, bursting into a loud sob, walking back towards the building. For some reason he felt a cold shiver run along his spine, his mind seeming to scream.
Not yet.
Not yet.
He grabbed her aggressively by the arm making her voice stuck in her throat, her body slamming into his as he pulled her violently towards him. They struggled for a moment, his hands tightening around her waist, not allowing her to pull away.
He wasn't done yet.
Not yet.
She squirmed and whimpered, tears running down her red face as he grasped her cheeks between his fingers, able to look at her closely at last, pressing her body against his with his other arm.
Their breaths were heavy and broken when her body finally stopped resisting him, his face bent over hers so that the tips of their noses were almost touching.
"− don't you miss your favourite uncle anymore? − hm? −" He gasped, for some reason wanting to watch her suffer, wanting to punish her for seeing other men, for perhaps fucking other men, for perhaps daring to love them while he thought only of her, her, her.
She swallowed hard, her fingers clenched helplessly on the material of his leather jacket, her warm, soft cheeks all wet with tears under his fingers, her eyes big and shining, staring at him, only at him.
"− I don't recognise you −" She mumbled in a breaking voice. She closed her eyes, tears one by one running down her face again. "− God, I don't recognise you −"
He looked at her feeling his whole body tense up, his heart stopped in his throat − his lips tightened into a thin line as his grip on her cheeks grew stronger, making her cry out quietly in pain. He wanted to say something but was unable to − he just stared at her, feeling himself begin to tremble all over, a burning, embarrassing wetness gathered under his eyelids.
He knew he would be a disappointment to her and that was why he never wanted to see her again.
He didn't want to hear those words.
I don't recognise you.
"− good − because I don't fucking recognise myself either −" He hissed in a hoarse, trembling voice.
He pressed his forehead against hers, wanting to hide, wanting to be close to her, wanting her to forgive him, to tell him that everything would be all right, that she would come to him at night just as she had then.
He waited for her words, but all he heard was her loud breathing, her trembling fingers from his jacket rose slowly to his neck and jaw, her thumbs stroked his cheeks.
Something akin to a soft moan and sigh left his throat as her plump, moist lips ran slowly over his, merely teasing him. His cock responded immediately with an aggressive pulsing at the thought that her lip gloss tasted of strawberries, his eyes closed in delight as his tongue licked her upper lip, letting her know to keep going.
A wonderful, tickling heat rippled across his chest and lower abdomen as she mewled softly, opening her mouth a little wider, finally joining him in a shamelessly sticky, wet, loud kiss full of their slick, warm tongues.
The grip of his fingers softened, still holding her securely while his lips sank again and again into the wonderfully fleshy, silky structure of her skin, her scent, her hot breath, the softness of her body were wonderfully familiar, wonderfully safe.
He embraced her as she threw her arms around his neck, her body pressed against his − she moaned in embarrassment into his throat, letting his tongue invade deep between her teeth as she felt his swollen, throbbing erection on her stomach.
"− it's your fault − it's your fault −" He panted between greedy, aggressive, deep kisses that took his breath away, his wide hands clamped down on her back on the material of her dress, wandering up and down, closing finally on her plump buttocks making her fingers tighten on his short hair.
"− mghm −" She babbled between one lick of their tongues and the next, their lips joined and separated with loud, sticky clicks of their saliva, his hips rolled back and forth, rubbing his erection hidden in his trousers against her body, holding her in place.
This heavenly, shocking pleasure was violently interrupted for him when they heard someone's voice in the distance.
"− are you sure you saw her here? −" He heard Daemon's voice and moved away from her, looking at her in horror, her eyes big, her mouth open wide as if she couldn't believe what they had just done.
Oh my fucking God.
"− yes, I'm sure −" Jace said.
"− I'm here − I'm coming −" She called out to them, running towards them, leaving him alone amongst the evening chill, uncomfortably enveloping his body hot with delight and desire.
Only after a moment did the adrenaline begin to leave his veins, and the thrill was replaced by rage and shame. He groaned loudly, kneeling down and closed his face in his hands, bursting into loud, uncontrollable sobs for the first time in years.
He still loved her.
#modern aemond#modern aemond targaryen#modern aemond angst#dark modern aemond#dark aemond#dark aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#prince aemond#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#prince aemond targaryen#aemond angst#aemond fluff#modern aemond fluff#hotd fanfiction#hotd angst#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#hotd smut#aemond smut#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewan mitchell fanfiction#ewan mitchell fic#aemond x niece#aemond x female#aemond x female character
385 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fandom Problem #5781:
Important fandom tip: Regardless if you "did" anything or not, never post a single scrap of anon hate. Do not give people who click a button to hide their face to send a nasty message the time of day. Do not acknowledge you have received anything at all, no matter how vicious, petty, abusive, or threatening the message is. Simply block and report all gross anons. I don't want to see anyone try and defend sending someone suicide bait, death threats, rape threats or rude messages either there is no excuse at all. "But they're a Bad Person!" So that means you get a free pass to tell them you will sexually violate them and their kids? What kind of person does that make YOU??? Keyboard warriors, those with parasocial relationships, people with personal vendettas that would make John Wick cringe, and your average troll do not deserve your consideration. You could also just delete their shitty message so they keep writing out essays of how stupid/bad/annoying you are over and over until they give up. But I am serious, you don't owe these people anything and totally ignoring or blocking/reporting their harassment is the best you can do to curate a good experience. Remember, they want you to respond! They want engagement and to know they got to you. Starve these fuckers and keep living your life
136 notes
·
View notes
Note
I think antis are funny... Cause like.. You're gonna bash my head open with a rock? Tell me to kms? Want me to get raped? If you can say all that then SURELY you can come do it? Oh? You're literally a pussy ass keyboard warrior with nothing better to do but harass people online. You're not going to do shit in real life.
You'll notice I'm happy to invite folks to tussle with me in-person. Hell, I won't give you my full address but I'll def find a place an hour away and eagerly await our meeting. May the best bitch win. Might as well.
#proshippers against censorship#jackal barks#proship please interact#proshippers please interact#proship positivity#proship#proshipper safe#proshipping#proshipper#anti anti#ask#asks#pro stance
66 notes
·
View notes
Note
Im neither a proshipper nor an anti at this current stage in life, but at one point i was an anti i guess? And I hate it say it, but looking back, I understand why. I don't think I actually gave a fuck about Harmful Fanfic or whatever, it was just a substitute for therapy that i couldn't get at the time (because "literally neurodivergent and a minor" or whatever, but like...actually literally neurodivergent and a minor LOL).
As weird as it sounds like, no one cared about my ACTUAL PAIN, and that made me feel EVEN MORE PAIN, so i took it out on ppl who shipped "abuse", or whatever.
It's so stupid now, as an adult who is mentally better than I was then, but as ridiculous as it was, seeing someone ship an "abusive" ship or a "queer erasing ship" (like a canonically gay character with someone of the other binary gender)...it felt eerily similar to the actual abuse I was facing and the stress that everyone was putting on me to find a boyfriend or ask why my (closeted lesbian) self didn't like any boys.
But it was so much easier to keyboard warrior about how people who ship Bad things are Bad people, than it was to fix any problems in my actual life because...well, the actual problems in my life COULDN'T be fixed. That isn't a learned helplessness thing, there was genuinely nothing I could've done. So pissing off Shippers was, like, a vessel for that, and it *felt* like I was getting to lash out at the same people who were ACTUALLY hurting me, even though that obviously is not the case. Funny thing is, it wasn't actual fandom discourse that made me switch sides, it was getting to learn more about youth liberation movements and stuff, because it was then that I recognized the actual structures that were making me hurt.
I think one silver lining is it's made me more compassionate an adult. While I don't have any defense for the antis who do actual horrendous stuff like doxxing or sending death/rape threats, etc, I do have a lot of defense for the ones who were like me and would just make posts talking about how Wrong it is to ship certain things. I know that not all antis are in the same place that I was once was, and some are just genuinely immature brats, but it's like. . . I get it, you know?
The cycle of abuse/bullying is weird and it's not often a 1:1 "I had an abusive parent so now i'll be an abusive parent", sometimes it's the chronically online stuff like I did. It's also why I'm careful-careful to not engage and to just block or, even try to have a mature discussion if I can, and if the person I'm talking to is just "a little bit annoying" rather than "actual bully doing/sending illegal stuff". A lot of them just want to be heard, I think, and it really makes me sad that this is the way they choose to be heard...but also i get it, because i was that.
--
Yup. We often discuss anti tendencies in this framework.
People want control over their environment when they have none. They want the world to make sense and for there to be simple rules they can follow to Never Mess Up. This is a very common reaction to trauma and also typical of brains that like order and neat boxes and a world full of justice and logic.
The trouble is that a critical mass of "I'm just pointing this out" type posts does tend to make all the other teens with an issue around moral scrupulosity implode. (And let's be real, plenty of the antis themselves are secretly into dark content and are trying to pray the gay kink away.)
I have some sympathy, but I'm still going to tell people they're sealioning when they are and tell them they're flat out wrong about how fantasies work, not sugar coat it because they're probably a delicate teen. There's no need to be excessively mean or treat people as irredeemable, but I also don't like how we talk endlessly about compassion for teen antis and not for teens targeted by antis. It's similar to how there are all those complaints like "Hey, I work hard to manage my mental illness, but all the support seems to go to people who are letting their issues rampage..."
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
If you're censoring the words pedophilia, rape, incest and other words because Purity Culture(tm) has taught you these are Taboo Words(tm) that are so horrific you can't even type them on your own keyboard ... please stop and consider that the people who genuinely need those things blacklisted for trigger reasons can't actually blacklist them if you keep making up new ways to tag them.
If you are censoring these words for your own personal comfort with using the words you are not helping anyone.
And if you can't even say the words, you definitely don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to arguing the validity of artists and authors using them as themes in fictional settings.
#proship safe#proshippers please interact#is this based on something I saw? yes.#but it's not directed at anyone in particular. it's just a blanket statement.#ambers.txt#edit: fixed a typo and rephrased part of it - sorry about that
303 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Path Iceberg
This is an Iceberg for The Path- created by myself with editing help from my good friends Samhain, Torr and Gloria. If you don’t know what an iceberg is, it’s a chart to discuss different levels of knowledge for a specific topic, the farther you go down, the more obscure or dark the topics become.
Before you read, I need to state that there are discussions of Rape related to people aged 9 to 19, Death, Potential Triggering content within links, and Spoilers for The Path.
Thank you! And Enjoy!
This is an Iceberg for The Path- created by myself with editing help from my good friends Samhain, Torr and Gloria. If you don’t know what an iceberg is, it’s a chart to discuss different levels of knowledge for a specific topic, the farther you go down, the more obscure or dark the topics become.
Before you read, I need to state that there are discussions of Rape related to people aged 9 to 19, Death, Potential Triggering content within links, and Spoilers for The Path.
Thank you! And Enjoy!
Tier 1 - The Sky
The Path is a psychological horror art game created by Tale of Tales, now Song of Songs, in 2009. It follows a modern retelling of Little Red Riding Hood as it's experienced between six sisters, the wolf-loving 9-year-old Robin, the precocious 11-year-old Rose, the tomboy 13-year-old Ginger, the brooding 15-year-old Ruby, the confident 17-year-old Carmen and the responsible 19-year-old Scarlet. Each sister takes turns walking to their grandmother's house, with the only rule being to stay on the path. And the only way to win is by dying. The Path is a walking simulator and is seen as one of the best representations of the fact gaming can be art.
Tale of Tales was a Belgian game development company that ran from 2003 to 2015. It was founded by artists Auriea Harvey and Michaël Samyn in an effort to bring art to an interactive medium. They're known for games like The Endless Forest, Graveyard, Fatale, Sunset, and especially their cult classic The Path. In 2015 they ceased making commercial video games after the release of Sunset, and now work on art projects together under the name Song of Songs. Currently, they’re working on a remake of The Endless Forest, which is currently in its beta stage open for patreons!
Little Red Riding Hood is a fairy tale about a young girl with a red cape who meets a wolf on the way to her grandmother's house. The basic story has Little Red walking through the woods to bring food for her sickly grandmother, where she meets the wolf who wants to eat the food and her. The wolf tricks her into telling him where she's going while she stops to get her grandmother flowers. When she finally gets there, the wolf has eaten her grandmother and tricks her into getting into bed so he can eat her as well. Depending on the version, a hunter may come in and slay the wolf saving the granddaughter and grandmother from his stomach, or the grandmother could be unharmed in the wardrobe.
Auriea Harvey is a digital artist and sculptor currently living and working in Rome. She’s one half of Tale of Tales and is specifically credited for Design, Direction and Character Design on The Path. She was also the author of the post-mortem on The Path which you can see I’ve heavily referenced throughout this whole post. She currently has an art exhibit at the Museum of Moving Image called My Veins are the Wires, My Body is Your Keyboard which features images, models and the ability to play the path!
Michaël Samyn is a graphic designer and digital artist specialising in VR from Belgium, currently living and working in Rome. He’s the other half of Tale of Tales and is specifically credited for Design, Direction and Programming for The Path. His most recent work, apart from actively working on The Endless Forest, is The Viriditas Chapel of Perpetual Adoration, an utterly stunning VR experience you can get on Steam.
Tier 2 - Tip of the Iceberg
The Path as a game is about building your own interpretations of the character's struggles via item reactions and rooms in Grandmother's House. There are generally two main interpretations believed by most who play the game. One is that the game shows each girl's death, Robin being mauled to death by a wolf, Rose drowning after she falls off the boat, Ginger being strangled/electrocuted on the flower fields wires, Ruby getting into a car accident, Carmen being killed and chopped up, and Scarlet being hung by the string seen on her wolf’s claws. However, these are also usually viewed as metaphorical examples of the sisters feeling like they died after extreme traumas. Using the items and images as clues, there is a common consensus of what each sister went through that made her feel like this. Robin's is learning about death and the consequences of actions, Ginger's is getting her first period and being forced to grow up, Ruby's is falling in with the wrong crowd and getting into harmful behaviours, Carmen's is getting taken advantage of while drunk, and Scarlet's is falling under the weight of responsibility placed upon her to look after her family.
Some places reported that the game would be about rape or pedophilia, like this spread in a Dutch gaming magazine. Something that gives credence to the rape interpretation is the basis of Perrault's version of the tale where the wolf tricks the sister to take off her clothes and get into bed together, as well as the uncomfortable positions the sisters appear in after their encounter. Though, this is how Auriea addressed it in the post-mortem- 'Some say blindly that the game is "about rape." And while that could be one of the interpretations -- and I understand it -- for me, those black-out moments after meeting her wolf are the moments of realization. Those are the times when a girl grows. And what happens in Grandmother's House is not a murder but a shedding of childhood and an initiation to womanhood. Each girl is one step closer to her fate.'
The Path may have intended answers that are mostly agreed on, but the format of the game is purposefully set up so there is no wrong or right answer, allowing for more personal or specific interpretations. You may notice I didn't mention Rose in the last section- and that's because there isn't an accepted answer. The most popular ideas are either her blooming spirituality, or dealing with illness, though those are both contested. There are other popular interpretations for each character- Robin having a family member pass, Ginger being a lesbian or trans man in love with her wolf, Ruby's experience with ableism or addiction, Carmen experiencing society's sexualization of teenagers, Scarlet having extreme psychological issues, with Rose's ranging anywhere from the struggle of a gifted child, actually dying or even the creators not having an actual set intention!
Each sister you can play as has their own Live Journal- Robin's is named Kid Red, Rose's Innocent Red, Ginger's Tomboy Red, Ruby's Goth Red, Carmen's Sexy Red, and Scarlets Stern Red. Here the sisters post about their lives and talk to one another and sometimes other people, there seems to be a group of people who didn't know these were fictional characters, and one person talking about the Rio World Cup. Nowadays, this blog project could be seen as an early form of an ARG, considering its interactive nature.
The Company of Wolves is a 1984 gothic horror film about a grandmother warning her granddaughter about straying from the path and never trusting charming men. Multiple stories are told about girls falling for people who are secretly wolves and how it became their downfall. There are similar themes of femininity and sexual awakening, as well as the usage of Charles Perrault's Le Petit Chaperon Rouge at the end of the movie and in the trailers for the game.
If you've played The Path in recent times you may notice that there are various bugs that range from bearable, game-breaking, beautiful or simply funny. The creators have an image folder of beautiful glitches from developing the game and the VK fanclub has compiled some glitches found themselves.
The game is turning 15 this year- and as time goes on the web aspects that hosted information about it are slowly going out of date. There's been an effort to archive images, the character models for the sisters, and object textures.
Jarboe Devereaux is an experimental rock musician probably best known for being an early member of the group Swans, who co-composed the soundtrack for The Path with Kris Force along with lending her voice to some narration in the soundtrack and trailers. A lot of her music is experimental and I honestly recommend listening to it if you want! At the moment she’s working on her next solo album to come out in late 2024, as well as considering a tour in Europe after the album is released!
The Path of Needles or The Path of Pins is a line from one of the earliest versions of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf asking which path she will travel down, the needles representing maturity while the pins represent childhood. It's said to be based on a French village in which a girl was sent off to become a seamstress for a year, as a sense of sexual maturation. This features heavily in the trailers as well as being part of The Grandmother’s Tale read by Jarboe, with it being referenced to by Ruby in her reaction to the needle.
The Prologue is a short free version of The Path you can find on their website where you play as the mysterious Girl in White. You're unable to interact with items or go to grandmother's house in this version- but you are much more able to explore and find your way back to the path on your own, something you cannot do in the full game.
Izzzyzzz is a YouTuber who makes commentary videos who posts deep dives on things like famous fandom stories, old media and internet legends. In late 2021 they posted a video covering The Path which now sits at 1.4 million views, introducing a good chunk of the modern fan base to the game, as well as causing a surge in new content for the game, with a follow-up video in 2023! Their most recent video is about the game Palworld and it’s plagiarism, as well as having a new line of merch out.
Despite being released in English and Dutch only, The Path very quickly grew a fanbase in Japan and even more so in Russia. Screenshots from Auriea's post-mortem showed Russia was the second biggest purchaser of the game. The European social networking site VK has a fan club of 5.4k members as of writing this- as well as having produced 251 fanfictions on ficbook (for context, Rule of Rose, a game with similar themes and an overlapping fan base has 5 fanfictions on it) Japan's is a lot less archived, but on niconico you can find a lot of fan videos for The Path that is simply not there on the English net.
Though not like how it's used in other games- The Path has an inventory system in which you can collect, store and view items found in the forest. These are deemed "Distractions", and you're able to use these to unlock parts of grandmother's house. There are 30 items you can collect, the bread and wine are already collected which unlock the house and gate respectively, but there is also: A Knife (Unlocking a knife on the kitchen table), a Bullet (Unlocking a deer head), a Feather (Unlocking a Cage with a bird), a Mask (Unlocking the curtains in the kitchen), a Dead Bird (Unlocking a tv), Treasure (Unlocking a stack of money), a Needle (Unlocking pills), a Two-Headed Teddy Bear (Unlocking the bear in grandmother's house), a Boot (Unlocking a table), a Record (Unlocking a stereo), Flowers (unlocking hanging flowers), a Balloon (Unlocking Balloons on the ceiling), a Piano (Unlocking a Cobweb), the Playground Tower (Unlocking a picture frame), a Bunker (Unlocking beer in a fridge), and a Grave (Unlocking a Vase). Each sister then has three special items that unlock secret rooms. For Robin, an Open Grave, Swing and Shopping Cart unlock a crib with a birds-nest, a side staircase and a birthday party. For Rose, a Living Crow, a Skull and a Well, unlocking a long corridor of bathroom stalls, a flooding hallway of doors and a greenhouse. For Ginger, a Twisted Fence, a Climbable Tree and a Shed unlock a hallway, a bedroom and toys under the bed. For Ruby, a Scarecrow, a Wheelchair and a Car unlock a hallway, gymnasium and giant cage. For Carmen, beer, campfire and bath unlock a bush corridor, a basement and a row of fire. And for Scarlet, a cobweb, a clothing line, and a tv unlock a music room, a library and a hall of books.
Tier 3 - Beneath the Surface
Kris Force is an electroacoustic composer, performer and visual artist you'd probably best know from her work as Amber Asylum and with Neurosis. She’s an extremely talented multi-media artist, including such skills as painting, sound and photography. At the moment her most recent release was The Embrace, with Jarboe whom she collaborated with on The Path!
1001 Video Games To Play Before You Die is a spinoff book from 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, featuring games from 1970 to 2013, with The Path being listed right between Punch-Out for the Wii and EyePet the pet simulator. Listed as being so effective due to its interactivity.
The Girl in White, the mysterious forest girl who brings the sisters back to the path, seems to be tied with two of the sister’s Wolves. Ginger’s, The Girl in Red, and Carmen’s, The Woodsman. The Girl in White has a small tent next to the Woodsman’s area, as well as sharing the same skin colour, hair colour, eye colour and similar-looking boots. With the Girl in Red it’s much the same, the only things being different are the colour of their dresses, and the directions their pigtails point, and is directly named as the Girl in White’s twin. There’s even art of all three together named “The Woodsman’s Daughter” but not saying which one is his daughter.
Fey Wolf, if you aren't familiar, is the name in the files for Scarlet's Wolf, the white-haired pianist found in the theatre. You'd not be faulted for seeing them as either an older woman or a long-haired man, or even a genderless ethereal being. The Fey Wolf was never specifically gendered by the creators, but insights about The Girl In Red Wolf reveal that she is intended to be the only female wolf.
Laura Raines Smith is an extremely prolific animator specialising in modelling and textures and was the main animator in a lot of Tale of Tales games. Some of her Tale of Tales animations can be found here, but she's also worked on games like Borderlands 3, Rage of the Gladiator and NHL 95. Her most recent work from what I can find was the animation and rigging on Saturnalia in 2022!
If you’ve been in the community or if you’ve seen people discuss theories for The Path, you have probably seen the interpretation that Ginger is a lesbian, or transgender. This goes beyond just a shared headcanon, there’s a mountain of evidence for both camps that seems potentially intended. Starting with Ginger being transgender, just out of respect, in this section Ginger will be referred to with gender-neutral pronouns. Their appearance is particularly androgynous compared to their sisters, with a short bob cut and a black shirt and shorts- along with having the gender-neutral name Ginger that doesn’t quite fit the family naming theme that could be seen as a chosen name. Ginger also is associated with things that are seen as more masculine, their favourite video game is an action-adventure called Ico, they enjoy exploring the forest and trying to blow things up or fake crop circles, as well as having “boy” toys under the bed, little army men and dinosaurs. Ginger also notoriously dislikes things that are more “girly” like dressing up pretty, going as far as to make their entire family forget their birthday to avoid it. Their wolf can be seen as a manifestation of that, of all things girly and feminine, literally being only known as a Girl in Red- and the GIR’s obsession with barbed wire could be how they feel their feminity is trapping them. Ginger getting their first period is near-universally considered to be the “proper” interpretation of their route, but people who believe in Ginger being transgender use their overwhelming reaction to their first period being a sign of gender dysphoria, and fear of now believing they will be stuck to becoming a woman. This can be summed up in this image, of Ginger clutching their legs together with what's supposed to be in the middle being completely absent, instead with a drawing of flowers in place and barbed wire across, a clear sign of how they see their period as trapping them into womanhood. For the lesbian side, Ginger never specifically states that she doesn’t like men like Scarlet, but more shows her complete disinterest in them and romance in general. She mentions how she hates that “kissing stuff” and describes Carmen as “Hot, if you’re into that kinda thing.” While that does seem to show Ginger isn’t into romance at all, there are some things. The recurring image of two girls holding hands as a doodle can be found all over the game, and her general identity as a tomboy is sometimes seen in young lesbians yet to have come out, but most of the evidence lies within her wolf and their relationship. They’re clearly close, they have a handshake, and Ginger is more comfortable with affection with her than compared to her own grandmother, with the two girls hugging deeply and the GIR even lifting her into the air. The Wolf Encounter is comparably tamer and almost sweet compared to every other wolf encounter, ending with the Girl in Red grabbing Ginger’s hand and pulling her down to lie together in the sun. The final flashes show an image of the GIR leaning in, almost looking like she’s kissing something. On the GIR’s development blog, their relationship is described as “They are what is missing from each other's lives” as well as describing why Ginger was chosen to have a female wolf as “And the girl most likely to be attracted would be Ginger.” These development notes as well as the general tone of the wolf encounter seem to apply that Ginger and her wolf’s interactions weren’t as antagonistic as the others, almost as if her goal was not to hurt, but to trap her, seemingly to stay in the relationship.
If you’ve lurked on forums about the game for any amount of time, you’ve probably heard the question of “Getting an A” in the game's grading system, and speculation on how it’s possible. Well, I’m sadly here to tell you it’s impossible. Even if you get all of the items, all 144 flowers, successfully succumb to the wolf, and become Grandmother's favourite grandchild, you are unable to get an A. It honestly should not be a surprise- The Path is not supposed to be a normal game that rewards you for your completion, it’s… The Path.
Lisa Falzon is an Illustrator turned tattooer and multimedia artist from Malta. She was originally approached early on in the production to design the box art, though I don’t know if this was ever made or shared, and went on to inspire multiple other aspects of the game, being described as "Awkward Realism." She even drew Ginger when Tale of Tales interviewed her! At the moment she’s working in her own Tattoo shop called Upward Spiral Ink- her tattoos involve amazing detail and beautiful shading, I highly recommend checking it out!
Emriss, Redsbane and Bonedevill are three accounts found commenting and interacting with the sisters' live journals in the comments between 2008 and 2009. Most of Emriss' comments come from 2008, while all of Redsbane and Bonevill's are from 2009. The common through line is interaction with the accounts by the sisters and deactivation. Emriss plays a more neutral role, while Redsbane and Bonedevill lean more antagonistic with them referencing something bad happening to the sisters, Redsbane also seemingly implies the 'Bane' of the 'Red' sisters. With these accounts not archived on the Wayback Machine it's not clear if these were accounts used by the creators to provide interaction, or if they are actual fans playing along.
Ruby’s Leg Brace is probably the most iconic thing about her, with the rarity of video game characters using disability aids, her open usage of one is a welcome sight- but from the beginning of her development it’s not clear if she needs it. In her original plan sheet it’s noted that she may just be using it for show and later her description on the website saying “When asked about her leg brace, Ruby says she’s in pain, but she doesn’t specify where it hurts,” implying she doesn’t need it. Conversely, one of Ruby’s secret items needed is a wheelchair, and the final flashes put an emphasis on her legs and how they’re bent out of shape, seemingly saying she needed the leg brace due to a car crash, or an alternative reading is that Ruby was already disabled before the accident, as she gets violently thrown through a high school gym, as well as being the quickest character in the game, maybe signalling she used to be a school athlete before the onset of a condition or an accident.
Kirin San may be a kind of mysterious figure for non-Japanese fans of The Path, especially if you’ve gone through fanart, seeing a random man or giraffe in a little suit with the red sisters. The truth is, Kirin-San could probably be best described as the Japanese Izzzyzzz, being a big part of how the game became popular over there, with his playthroughs inspiring animatics and leading to a Japanese translation coming in 2010 from Zoo Corporation! This is a weird side note I didn’t know where else to put, but while I was researching this topic I found out that apart from translating games like GTA and Left 4 Dead into English, they also create hentai card games like Pretty Girls Mahjong Solitaire as well as developing medical prescription systems, so that’s hilarious.
144 is described as the essence of the game by the creators, that it represents “a girl's restlessness, the sound of footsteps on dry leaves, the smell of pine trees, dim sunlight through filtering clouds.” The original working title of it was 144, with the original intent to have 144 red riding hoods. This was quickly abandoned due to the scale, but its importance remains, the 144 collectable flowers in the forest are the most obvious example of this, but it's all over the rest of the game. There are 36 items (144 divided by 4 being 36), 18 secret rooms (144 divided by 8 being 18), 3 secret rooms per sister (144 divided by 48 being 3) as well as six sisters (144 divided by 24 being six).
Something talked about in the postmortem but was not mentioned by name in the game is that The Girl in White is quite literally an older version of one of Tale of Tales past characters, The Deaf Mute Girl in The Pretty White Dress from 8. Her models were created based on making them look like the Deaf Mute Girl but at the age of 13. With 8 never coming out; the Girl in White is both the first occurrence of this character and the second time she was in a game.
Tier 4 - Middle of the Iceberg
An interesting detail that 1c changed when they translated the game into Russian is them choosing different names for the main six girls, unlike every other translation which keeps their original. The names are: Robin as Алина/Alina, Rose as Алиса/Alice, Ginger as Ада/Ada, Ruby as Агния/Agnia, Carmen as Алла/Alla and Scarlet as Аврора/Aurora. The translated names are no longer themed around red things, but around the alliterative A’s, probably due to their name puns being lost in translation.
This is an entry that’s probably more well known to people NOT into The Path, in that The Path is featured and shouted out by name in Hetalia. Yeah, Hetalia, that Hetalia the anime about personified countries that once was the second most popular Anime/Manga fandom on Fanfiction dot net, features The Path in both the anime and manga, with Belgium showing off the game as something from their homeland.
Something never mentioned in the games is that each of the sisters was given birthdays. On their livejournals, you can see posts of them celebrating Robin’s, Carmen’s and forgetting Ginger’s, but they aren’t the only ones with birthdays. On their live journal profile descriptions, their birthdays are listed as the 13th of October 2000 for Robin, the 13th of March for Rose, the 13th of September 1996 for Ginger, the 13th of May 1994 for Ruby, the 13th of November 1992 for Carmen, and the 13th of April 1990 for Scarlet. Rose doesn’t have her birth year listed but it’s probably just 1998, due to all of the sisters being spaced by two years. Something interesting is that all of the sisters were born on Friday the 13th, but only Rose would be her actual age as of the game release. Since the game came out on the 18th of March 2009, the actual character ages would be 8 for Robin, 11 for Rose, 12 for Ginger, 14 for Ruby, 16 for Carmen and 18 for Scarlet. Part of me thinks that this is why Rose’s birth year goes unmentioned on live journal, though if she wasn’t born in 1998 she would not fit the profile of being born on Friday the 13th, but it’s possible it was either a mistake or related to another entry on this iceberg.
Only mentioned in one development image and the development blog for Ginger’s Wolf, is the idea that Ginger and Rose were at one point supposed to be twin sisters, both being 13 similar to the Girl in White and her twin The Girl in Red being 13. In the accompanying image found on Flickr, you’re able to see above Rose her age is listed as 11, or as 13 if she was a twin. The thing is- the sister that has age 13 listed above her is very clearly NOT Ginger, it’s Ruby, and it’s Ginger who’s listed as 15. Well, they’re not listed by name, but Tomboy Red and Goth Red are the names used for Ginger and Ruby as seen on Livejournal, and their appearances are nearly identical to those from the final product. Especially weird considering that Ruby was the first character ever made for this game, and she was listed as 15 in that as well!
You probably noticed this if you looked at the image where Rose and Ginger are listed as twins, but they aren’t the only ones with stark differences that go unexplained. The Girl in White is listed as LDMGIAPWD, an acronym for the Little Deaf Mute Girl in a Pretty White Dress, simplified in print as the Girl in White and in fan discussions as the GIW. Another thing you’ll notice is that Scarlet has… A different design. With a long buttoned dress reminiscent of something straight out of a period piece set in an asylum, and a hat with things that look like antennas with flowers. And then it comes to… Rose and Carmen’s original names. Virgin Red and Sexpot Red. We’ll start with Carmen. Sexpot is a more crude way of describing someone who’s sexy, which is what Carmen’s nickname was then changed to. It’s still kind of a touchy issue with fans that Carmen, a minor, uses the name Sexy- but it’s still far more appropriate compared to Sexpot. Sexy gives more of a feeling that it’s self-appointed when compared to Sexpot which is more voyeuristic. And Virgin Red. Virgin has two contexts that are relevant here. Virgin within the context of purity and innocence, related to the Virgin Mary as an example of goodness not seeing bad. And Virgin within the context of never having sexual contact with anyone. Given the fact her name was then changed to Innocent Red and the fact she is ELEVEN- it’s likely that it’s related to that first interpretation, further giving evidence towards the view of Rose’s story being about her relationship to her spirituality.
If you’ve read Rose or Ruby’s live journal you’d find out that on the 2nd of May 2008, Ruby dyed her hair black. That’s not surprising to begin with, you can see her with her hair as black throughout the game (Though sometimes it has a blueish look with some lighting)- a bit weird that it had to be pointed out as dyed due to all of her sister’s also having black hair (You can see Ginger’s black roots), but their live journals give a reason for why. In Ruby’s comment section, she’s asked about her original hair colour, which she replies was Green. It’s not clear if she means her hair was last dyed green, or if she has natural green hair. This seems like a reference to one of her final flashes that’s the same as another but with a green colouring. Anyway- this isn’t what we’re talking about. In the reply of that comment, someone calls her a liar, and says if it really was green, why did she get her sister to lie? What they’re referring to is Rose’s post about it- in which she says that Ruby had made her promise not to tell what her old hair is. There’s still a debate as to what her original hair colour is, and I don’t think we will ever actually get to know.
In 2022 @wammy4 on Twitter began multiple Twitter bots based on the sisters in The Path, posting various things sourced from lines in the game, live journal posts, quotes from grandmother's house and links to the game. It posted multiple times per day, now with so many posts it’s hard to keep track, but as of the fourth of April 2023, none of the accounts other than the creator has posted, due to Musk’s shutdown of free API bots and $100 per month bot subscription.
A staple of fandoms on the internet are Askblogs, where fans can ask characters questions and get a reply, usually with illustrated companions. The Path is no outlier, having a dedicated askblog on VK- with over 800 followers. It’s been active for years and has over 2 thousand different images, and has asks for all of the characters in the game, as well as gender-bent versions. If you can speak Russian I highly recommend checking it out, and even if you can’t, the art is stunning!
The Red sisters aren’t the only ones who have live journals, within the comments you can find Grandmother Red interacting with her grandkids, asking when they’ll next come down to see her. However this livejournal is different from the others given that hers is deactivated, even with the wayback machine- and her livejournal was never linked on the official website next to the others.
Fuco Euda is a Japanese-based surrealist painter focusing on the horrific, sensual and innocent, with girls nearly looking identical as if they were family, or the same girl. She was first referenced all the way back when Ruby was being designed as an artist to look into for inspiration. Her artbook LUCID DREAM is out, with a special bound edition if that’s something you’d be interested in!
Alice Knows Karate is an alt-pop band that takes inspiration from fairytales and J-pop, creating a unique nostalgic sound that feels straight out of a video game. They’ve got various albums you should definitely check out, but what we’re specifically talking about today is their 2018 album Fablewave, with their song ‘The Path’. It was originally posted on the head of the band Keiko’s YouTube channel in 2009, with an updated version coming ten years later. It’s outrageously good, it captures the essence of the game perfectly with amazing lyrics, and I got a bit too attached and it ended up as my number-one song on Spotify in 2023. The rest of Fablewave is also based on other fairytales and fairytale-inspired games, particularly ‘Alice, What Have You Done?’ based on American McGee’s Alice. Their most recent work is Grounded, and they’ve also been featured as the theme song for Penny Larceny: Gig Economy Supervillain!
The Path was supposed to be Tale of Tales' first commercial project, and as so it included advertising, but being Tale of Tales, they did this the most extra way they could. Around where they lived, they made a Tear Off poster, with what I believe is Martha Samyan’s art of Robin. The poster asks the reader to choose the path of pins or the path of needles, while linking to the website. On their blog they provide a blank download of the tear-off poster so you can print it off, to draw on it and place it around you!
The Path was Tale of Tales' first foray into creating commercial games, and because of that, there are various different selections of merch, such as: Signed Posters, USB drives, CDs of the soundtrack, Polaroids, Shirts (via Redbubble) and a sticker. Nearly all of this, save the shirts on Redbubble, are no longer purchasable, being limited items when they came out, and then finally being sold in 2015 as Tale of Tales moved. I am still so mad I never got those Polaroids and am still madly searching for auctions of them.
The Rose Problem is a catch-all term I am using to describe basically ‘What the hell is up with Rose’. It’s no secret that Rose is divisive when it comes to interpretations- so much so that I couldn’t include her in the first interpretation section. So, what is it that makes Rose so difficult? Well, you can barely see her wolf, her house is almost all flooded and she speaks with flowery prose. The reason people seem to view her route as spirituality or disability is because of her continued mention of disconnect from herself. But there have been oceans of other disagreeing ideas, related to her perhaps going through puberty early, her experiencing guilt related to her family, her being potentially molested, or even her literally dying. It’s been put forward by some that Tale of Tales went into Rose not even having an intention in mind, or it shifted from one idea during development and becoming aimless during that period.
Scarlet is known to be the last created sister, Tale of Tales describe the making of her as being the first to be born and last to be made, and because of that, her wolf was the last to be made. The final wolf is named the Fey Wolf- related to the Fae Court. As an Irish person who’s in full belief of the Fae, I don’t see the resemblance. But that wasn’t his final name- maybe it wasn’t his final appearance. His original name, according to a rough floor plan of what Grandmother’s house would look like with the secret rooms was Boy Toy Wolf. That’s… A name change. Especially considering the fact Boy Toy refers to a young man in a sexual relationship, usually with an older woman, and the Fey Wolf is a sort of elderly-looking androgynous thing with a 19-year-old Scarlet who is not into relationships. But because the Fey Wolf’s making has no text, it’s not clear if his appearance or purpose even changed between the name change.
Quest3d was a tool used for making 3D applications, with an intuitive way of programming by using graphs and seeing it in real-time without the need for a compiler. On Mobygames only 8 games were ever listed as created by Quest3d, 6 if you don’t count The Path and The Prologue- with three of them being a Ship Simulator. I say was because it’s pretty much gone. You can’t open their unique file in anything so you’re kinda screwed if you want to do anything with the game files.
The Shrine and the Playground Sign are two interesting objects that you really can’t see in the rest of the game. They both appear along the path but not in the forest, and unlike the crow, you can’t interact with them. Though not immediately clear- the reason why those appear is to signal to the player that the Graveyard and Playground are accessible. That’s probably self-explanatory for the Playground Sign, but for quite a few people the Shrine may come as a surprise, including me before I researched it.
The Path, like everything, has speedrunners. There are two categories- All Girls and Failure%. There have been seven runs altogether, one in all girls and six in failure%. Failure% is reaching grandmother's house without interacting with any wolf, beginning when you gain control and ending when you leave first person in Grandmother's house. Though there are no guides available, the strategy is clear, using Ruby as she’s the quickest. The world record holder as of now is from Krayzar with a one-minute 35 seconds. There's only one speedrun for All Girls, and I’m going to be honest, I don’t think there’s a strategy, at least not one clear from the world record holder Multiwinner who admits that the run they sent in was their first and only attempt. If you want to try this out, go ahead! You’ll have the chance to make history!
In 2020 a zine by the VK fan club for The Path was released- featuring illustrations, comics and stickers, a full collection of all included is linked here. As far as I can tell, this is the only one of its kind! It really is a marvel, and I have said this for like the third time, but if you have a copy of this I would love to buy it from you. I do have to warn you- there is nudity in here of Ruby.
Tier 5 - Bottom of the Iceberg
Tale of Tales references three artists and illustrators that inspired the feeling they were going for The Path, naming them as Lisa Falzon, Fuco Ueda and Ray Caesar. For its first anniversary, three sets of interviews of those artists by the six red sisters. You can find the interviews here, but some highlights are: Carmen asking Lisa if she has a boyfriend followed by Scarlet asking if Lisa is a feminist, Robin asking if Fuco Euda's paintings showed "Good girls or naughty girls", and Ginger just asking if Ray Caesar would ever make a video game.
One of the more confusing things mentioned in the Post Mortem is the fact that Tale of Tales at one time considered creating a mechanic where you would have to dance battle your wolf. No, I am not joking. I just have one question. In a game about exploring your deepest trauma in a wolf-infested forest. Why did you make them dance?
The Path Tribute Project was a group of Vocaloid songs created based on characters in The Path on niconico. The project is from 2014, and due to this and a lack of updating links, I’m unable to find the original organiser of the project and one of the songs, but what I do have, is a Paste Bin of all the found links, the Tumblr blog it was advertised on, and a short compilation of all of the songs reposted on VK!
The canonicity of the grandmother house pages is up to discussion, with Rose, Ginger, Ruby and Carmen all seeming aware they’re in a video game created by these people with Scarlet not making mention of Kris’ involvement with the game. The outlier is Robin, who says not only is Jarboe real in their universe, but that she lives in a black house in their forest- and that she was the one who taught the family the Safe Song. There clearly is not a black house in the forest- the only house is Grandmother’s which is white. Maybe she’s referring to the tent in the Campsite, we never exactly do see the Woodsman go into it, or it could even be the Bunker, as it seemingly has a panel over the door, but neither of those are housey.
Given The Path’s limited characters and interactions, the game’s fanbase has never really been prime with shipping, the most you would see is Ruby and her Wolf along with Ginger and her Wolf. But one pairing stands among them all as the most. Ship to exist. The Woodsman, and the Fey Wolf. There’s a weirdly large amount of fanart for this, despite their status of never interacting or existing near each other, but I suppose what fandoms do best is see two men and decide they should kiss. Should I show examples of this? Yes. Am I going to? No. Just… Take my word for it and understand why I am not showing you a sweaty bald man making out with whatever the Fey Wolf is.
Shamus Young was a game critic and blogger who was an early modder in the Doom Community, and held some infamous views related to parts of The Path. I want to preface this by saying- Shamus Young passed away in 2022 at the age of 50, and out of respect for him and his family, I will be only relaying what he wrote instead of including my opinions. The reason Shamus gained a particular status in the fan community is for his interpretations of Rose and Carmen. Starting with Carmen- he states that he knew girls like Carmen in high school, that would “Find the biggest, strongest, best-looking complete-jerk they could get their hands on, and then endlessly whine about how ‘men are such pigs.’” He then goes on to explain that he believes Carmen was not raped, because despite being drunk she had taken the alcohol without asking, and that it was not rape because “She came on to him.” He does say that it “does not excuse the forester for sharing his beer and hooking up with an (in some states) underage girl-” and then proceeds to say “But I don’t think he’s a rapist.” At the end of the aftermath saying that “Maybe this one bad experience will make her more careful.” Rose’s analysis begins with him prefacing that “I don’t actually want to talk about this one, because it involves stuff I wouldn’t even bring up on my blog.” and then again stating “And I really hope you’ll keep a clinical head on when I bring this up and try to be polite even if you disagree, and furthermore I hope we can keep this discussion civil and remember that this is all open to interpretation.” Before he goes on to explain how Rose’s water motifs are a representation of discovering masturbation- that the reason why her wolf is a Cloudy Male figure is that “She knows she’s attracted to men but she doesn’t know what men look like yet, or how sex works”. As stated at the beginning of this entry and by Shamus himself, I’m keeping this civil and I am not shaming him for his personal interpretations.
There’s quite a bit of Micheal’s Daughter Martha present in the game at various points. Martha made the original pictograms, I believe the poster art was also by her- but the most clear inspiration is Robin herself. As mentioned in her Making of post, Robin’s outfit is based on her, specifically her outfit of her blue hooded cloak and stripey boots. Martha’s actually an artist now too! Martha Samyn is a textile artist and interior architect, with her last exhibit being at Texture Kortrvijk in January! You can actually see the start of her textile art related to The Path, showing off her Ruby-inspired outfit for her doll!
A last-minute change mentioned in the post-mortem was the fact that The Path did not contain any text until the playtest. And when I mean any text, I don’t just mean instructions- until they had people play the games they hadn’t thought to include text for the items, to show what the characters were thinking, because they saw that “Some players had difficulty to let their imagination work.” That’s a wise lesson for you all. Involve Beta testers.
The Path Fangame, titled The Path Fan Project, is a game by Kinder and Doll, a spiritual follow-up to The Path with less of a focus on horror and more on open-world explanation and interaction with the sisters. The graphics are astonishingly pretty, with quite a few new locations like a train, a cave, and a treehouse. The game also involves slight voices, giving the characters voices for the first time! I again urge you to play it, especially since I am unable to because of the age of my computer.
The-Red-Path is a LiveJournal community never officially linked on the website like all the other LiveJournal profiles, with only six members- the six sisters. This account has only three posts, all posted in 2008, between April and August, only one of which I will be bringing up. On the 16th of April Robin asks whose turn it is to visit their grandmother, with Rose mentioning that they’ve all gone down the path already. There's a weird sadness in this post, with the normally boisterous Carmen asking why she couldn’t just go with anyone else.
You have probably heard of the first urban legend about The Path, the ability to get an A, but this one you likely haven’t heard of. There’s a phone present on the road on the other side of the path, calling it will allow you to transport the sister back to the apartment without needing to go to grandmother’s house. The general idea is then, if you go through the wolf encounter, but turn around on the path and walk back to the phone- would you be able to call it and actually return back home without the sister disappearing? There have been testimonies of being able to do it, as well as fanfictions about the concept, and not a lot of checks due to the fact you can’t run after the wolf encounter and your speed is already extremely low. But I am going to come out and say, no, I don’t believe it’s possible. I don’t think the creators would have overlooked that idea, especially since they had a large number of beta testers, but I do really like the idea and I wish it was true.
That’s the end! I have quite a few things I left out, due to it maybe not being interesting or my losing of sources, but I’m glad I could finally do this. In all honesty, The Path changed my life. It’s helped me through a lot in my own journey of healing and accepting trauma, and I will forever be grateful. Happy 15th anniversary!
#the path#the path game#the path tale of tales#the path robin#the path rose#the path ginger#the path ruby#the path carmen#the path scarlet#the girl in white the path#werewolf the path#cloud wolf the path#girl in red the path#charming wolf the path#woodsman wolf the path#fey wolf the path#tale of tales
215 notes
·
View notes
Text
The conversation around NG and the allegations seem to me to have devolved into pandemonium much quicker this time than the last, when the allegations initially came out. Idk why that is. There’s so much vitriolic, combative, moral grandstanding, that any balanced discourse has lost all meaning.
It’s weird. It’s all “fandom this, rape apologia that.” Or “how dare you moral police what I can or cannot enjoy.”
TW: SA, CSA, self harm mentions below
There is a man who has for decades allegedly physically and mentally harmed vulnerable people, fans included. For decades apparently. In front of a child, apparently. He’s misused mental health resources available to him to manipulate a survivor. He’s threatened self harm when called out for his behaviour. He’s used his celebrity to override rules of basic human decency. He’s caused DEEP fucking trauma. And so, I get the sense that a lot of us are super-triggered by it when we type our responses on here.
Meanwhile, This spineless coward has sat in his ivory tower in complete fucking silence and watched as keyboard wars are waged over his legacy. As far as I can tell, he’s not being held accountable in any court of law. He’s maybe lost a few sources of income, and that’s a maybe. The survivors? I don’t know how they’re doing, and I hope they’re doing well, but I don’t know if they’ve seen any substantial justice. I don’t know if they ever will.
There was a general sense of massive grief combined with rallying behind survivors six months ago. I’ve read about some fundraisers… some people had helpfully put long posts last time about how to help, how to do better.
Right now it’s just angry words everywhere, and I genuinely don’t know who it is meant to benefit.
Let’s just take a beat. Let’s think about who we are yelling at, really. Stay hydrated, get some sleep and get some distance.
#tw: sa#neil gaiman#fuck neil gaiman#neil gaiman allegations#believe victims#good omens#fandom#tw: neil gaiman#tw: csa#tw: coercion
36 notes
·
View notes
Note
Thank you for highlighting the frightening mob cruelty, antisemitism, and homophobia aimed at Noah Schnapp. So many fans of ST are sure that if they had lived in a small rural town in 1983 they'd have totally been cool with a gay kid, and that they would not have believed D&D and heavy metal were Satanic. They are sure they would have been the good guys, the tolerators, the "different kids." They are wrong. They are the bullies, the cliques, the superstitious goobers. They are the villains - of real life.
I agree with all of this, but I just want to add for any Noah haters who might end up reading this... Social justice theory and practice are two different things. You can post all you want about genocide and oppression and capitalism and apartheid—all of that. Your posts are MEANINGLESS if you turn around, single out a gay Jewish person, and lash out with slurs, death threats, sexual assault threats, doxxing, and more.
It doesn't matter that Noah Schnapp is a celebrity worth an estimated $3 million. That doesn't negate who he is. He is still young, gay, and Jewish; and resorting to violent bigotry and mob bullying as your knee-jerk reaction to him doing something you dislike or disagree with makes any other words that come out of your mouth or off your keyboard completely and utterly vapid and worthless—especially when it comes to matters of bigotry and oppression.
Moreover, you damage the communities you claim to care about when you do this. Non-celebrity gay and Jewish people see the words you say and your behavior and they are made to feel unsafe by it. How many LGBTQIA+ teenagers saw you call him a "fag" or make jokes about him getting passed around by older men? Or making up fake articles about him getting MPox? How many Jewish people saw you say "if only he hadn't been raised in a Jewish household, he would still be a good person"? "But we have a right to criticize him! People have a right to be angry!" You have a right to critique anyone you want. Calling someone a "fag" isn't criticizing them, though. Calling someone an "evil twink" isn't criticizing them. Saying you're going to "beat the hell" out of someone isn't criticizing them. Saying you "hope [they] get[s] dragged into an alley and raped" (yes, I saw someone say this about Noah on the bird app and was too sick to my stomach to screen cap it) isn't criticizing them.
More importantly? You have an OBLIGATION to call out people doing this. Even if you don't like Noah. Any Left-leaning person worth the breath they breathe would be repulsed by people behaving like this — but ya'll are either taking part in it or sitting back and cackling while others do it.
And that's why more and more people are calling you out and refusing to associate with you.
You're fake. You're bigots. You're cowards. And you've spent the last (almost) two years showing your asses. Now, the crows are coming home to roost.
#noah schnapp#will byers#ns#antisemitism#leftist homophobia#leftist antisemitism#stranger things#stranger things s5#answered#lgbtqia#homophobia
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Men go around defaming random victims all the time and then wonder why women don't believe when they cry "false rape accusations". You felt very comfortable falsely accusing a woman of "lying about rape" while sitting behind your keyboard and now you're mad that women around you are putting you on blast and other women are ignoring you? Ok lol.
#radblr#feminism#radical feminism#radical feminists please interact#women#rad fem#radical feminist safe#radical feminist community#radical feminists do touch#feminist#male violence#man hater#rapeawareness#rapeculture#decentremen#liberal feminism#socialist feminism#marxfem
326 notes
·
View notes
Text
Last sigh
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x death!reader
Word count: 879
Warnings: death, attempted suicide, killing
A very short and sad fanfiction because... yes.
Bucky was sitting on the hospital roof.
The air was crisp, and the sun was slowly sinking behind the horizon, painting the sky a deep orange. His metal hand gripped the edge of the roof, while his blue eyes stared at the empty space below. One step was all it would take.
One step, and it would all be over.
The noise of the city beneath him seemed distant, as if it belonged to a world that had nothing to do with him anymore. He had lost everything: friends, family, even his best friend, who had left him for another life. But the truth, the one that tormented him the most, was that he had never truly found himself again after being the Winter Soldier. He couldn’t think of himself without that dark part that haunted him.
“Coward,” he muttered softly. “You can’t even do this.”
He didn’t know if the fall would kill him. Maybe he would just end up in the hospital, forced to talk about his trauma. He already knew the reasons, and he had no interest in digging through his past with a shrink who would try to assign symbolic meanings to his pain. No, his father hadn’t beaten him, and his mother wasn’t a whore. But he... he had been a monster.
Bucky’s eyes drifted into memories. Suddenly, your face came to his mind, vivid, as if it were yesterday. It had been years since he had thought of you—your sweet smile, the warmth of your lips against his, the way your cheeks blushed every time you touched him.
“You…” he whispered, closing his eyes, desperately trying to remember your scent. But he couldn’t. And it tore him apart.
★
During the war, you two had met. You, a kind and gentle nurse, cared for the wounded soldiers. He, a young man full of hope and unfulfilled dreams, had ended up in your makeshift hospital bed.
“I’m not ready to die,” he had said to you once, looking into your eyes. “I’ve got too many things left to do. I want to fall in love one last time, feel my heart race like crazy… I want a family, kids, a normal life. A chance to be happy.”
Your hands trembled as you treated his wounds. Every word that left his lips made you fall for him more and more. And he knew it. You could tell from the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.
“Leave the war,” you whispered to him one night, in a stolen moment between the screams of soldiers and the roar of bombs. “Run away with me. We’ll die anyway, but at least we’ll do it trying to really live.”
He smiled at you. He kissed you. But the next day, the Germans took him.
And you never saw him again.
★
The rooftop seemed to waver beneath him, as Bucky’s cheeks were soaked with tears. He hadn’t fallen in love again after you. He couldn’t.
“And you?” he said to himself, wiping away the tears. “What happened to you?”
He quickly climbed down from the roof, a sudden decision taking hold of him. Maybe there was still something he could do. Maybe knowing how your life had turned out would give him some kind of peace.
★
In the library, Bucky’s fingers tapped nervously, frantically on the keyboard. He typed your name, the same one he remembered like a melody that never left him.
He found an article. A punch to the gut.
“Missing during the war… no trace.”
He kept reading, rage building inside him. “Raped by the Germans while trying to save medical supplies. No soldier helped her.”
His fist slammed into the table with violence. Everyone in the library turned to look at him, but he saw no one. Only you. The pain, the anger, the despair... it burned inside him. Who could understand what it meant to lose everything? To lose you.
A woman approached him. “Are you alright?” she asked in a gentle voice.
Bucky looked up, his heart pounding in his chest. His tear-filled eyes saw her blurry, but something about her struck him. She looked like you. Too much.
“Do I know you?” he stammered, unable to tear his gaze away.
She smiled, stepping closer. “Bucky?”
His heart stopped. His trembling hand reached out to take yours, and the warmth of your touch overwhelmed him. “Tell me this isn’t a dream,” he begged, rising from the chair to wrap you in a tight, desperate embrace.
Suddenly, everything became white. It was just the two of you, suspended in a timeless void.
“You weren’t supposed to come to me like this,” you whispered, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Not before you found peace with yourself.”
Bucky froze, confused. Then he looked down. His body was still there, sitting at the desk, his head resting on the keyboard. A pool of blood was spreading across his back. Someone had shot him.
“I don’t care,” he said, locking eyes with you again. “I’m happy to be dead... if it means I get to be with you for eternity.”
Without waiting for an answer, he kissed you. And in that moment, all the pain, all the rage, melted into one single emotion: peace.
#james bucky barnes#bucky#bucky fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes#the winter soldier#the falcon and the winter soldier#I'm sad sorry#marvel#mcu#fanfic#marvel mcu
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
this is random but i want to thank you for actually calling out the bad stuff lily’s done and talking about how her predatory actions show in her works (eg. all the incest stuff), without implying that everyone who creates works with such topics are predators
it feels rare to see that kind of nuance and compassion and as a survivor i appreciate it a lot
i have said before and will continued to do so: if all LO ever did for the internet was want to romance gardevoirs and write Stockholm, i wouldn't care about her at all. my tiping point was hearing about Brittany and Patch's experiences because that told me we're talking about an abusive and predatory person. a person who is willing to lie and use people like that so much, for so long, is not someone that should ever be trusted. then i looked more into her and it got worse. so much worse. then i made this blog and, somehow, someway, LO found the way to make it even worse than that. then Courtney came out, making way too much sense with how LO is, and now we're here. none of that is just fiction. i don't care about her fetishes or fantasies that she typed on a keyboard. i care about how she has treated people and how she could potentially harm others. i care about she pretending she doesn't have a incest fetish while pretending to normalize clearly incestuous undertones in her work. in her case, her fiction does reveal an uncomfortable amount who she is and what she actually thinks (the whole using Courtney buying a lock for her door after G confessed to mind raping CLO in her sleep in pokemadhouse, for example), so i understand wanting to bring it up, but that still is less important than just talking about who she is as a person.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yea, I still like Jimmy, cos I've been missing a real hateable antagonist for, like, AGES. Jimmy isn’t real. He’s not hurting anyone outside of the fictional narrative. People liking his character doesn’t mean they endorse rape, murder, or any other abhorrent behavior he’s committed. It means they find his character compelling within the context of the story. Shocking, I know—fiction can be nuanced like that!
But no, these self-proclaimed moral guardians want to drag fandom down to their painfully shallow level of “Good vs. Evil,” where liking a villain equates to aligning with their actions. Do they think people who like Hannibal Lecter secretly aspire to eat their neighbors? If your brain can’t distinguish between engaging with dark fictional themes and condoning real-life atrocities, that’s a you problem.
Here’s the real kicker: these people act like their outrage does anything. Spoiler alert—it doesn’t. Shaming others for their fictional preferences won’t stop real-world violence or solve societal issues. All it does is create a toxic, judgmental environment where people feel they have to hide what they enjoy to avoid being harassed by self-righteous keyboard warriors. It’s performative activism at its finest, prioritizing moral superiority over meaningful action.
#tw sa mention#🪻》 random rant#proshippers against censorship#proshipp#proshipper safe#op is a proshipper#proship positivity#proshippers are valid#proshippers please interact#proshippers are welcome
29 notes
·
View notes