#YOU ARE LITERALLY IDENTIFYING YOURSELF AS A MAN AND SAYING YOU CAN BE INVOLVED IN LESBIANISM

[honeylemony]

Post: lesbian erotica, for lesbians, says men do not interact, says specifically for lesbians

Replies: FTM here, what if I was involved 😜

[suffersinfandom]

Alright, I’m gonna talk about Ed and abuse.

“Why? Why are you spending your precious time on Earth typing about some dumb fandom stuff when you could be doing literally anything else?”

In short, seeing the “Ed is an abuser who’s inevitably going to hurt Stede” takes has been driving me absolutely bonkers since I first noticed them. They’re not going away, so I have to essay about it. 

In less-short: it’s because abuse is a serious thing and, as someone who’s experienced it, I get riled when it becomes a topic of discourse in my silly pirate fandom. It’s because it’s upsetting to read meta after meta accusing an indigenous man of being an abuser when the text doesn't support that reading. It’s because a lot of the abuse discourse in the fandom fails to separate real-life abuse from violence in a show. It’s because the vast majority of the abuse talk only acknowledges physical abuse which, while terrible, is not the only kind that hurts people and utterly destroys their lives. 

It’s because calling Ed abusive or insisting that he’s a future abuser can harm people who are like him -- people who have suffered abuse or get angry sometimes or have hurt people when they were hurt. Victims of abuse, especially those who dealt with it in childhood, often fear becoming abusers themselves. They bottle up their anger for fear of hurting someone. They hurt themselves in a misguided attempt to protect others. They don’t need to see meta that enforces their fears.

Before I get into it…

I may as well come clean and say that I’m on team Ed absolutely isn’t abusive.

Plenty has been typed in Ed’s defense by POC in the fandom, so I’m not going to go into how deeply unfortunate it would be to make an indigenous main character an abuser. I’m just going to say that, when you consider OFMD’s genre and attitude towards violence, it seems clear to me that you can’t call Ed abusive without calling out other characters unless you have some kind of bias against Ed. His actions are deplorable in the real world, a bit much in OFMD’s world, deeply unhealthy, not okay by any means, and shitty and traumatizing for his crew, but they aren’t abusive.

Remember: Our Flag Means Death is a comedy with tons of over-the-top violence. If your theory is unrelentingly grim or looks at violence and its consequences in a real-world light, consider stepping back and remembering what genre the events of the show are happening in.

And if you think that only the violence committed by the indigenous lead is abuse, look at the actions of the other characters and ask yourself why Ed doesn’t get the same grace you’ve granted the others.

What is abuse in the real world?

Abuse “includes [a pattern of] behaviors that physically harm, intimidate, manipulate, or control a partner or otherwise force them to behave in ways they don’t want to. This can happen through physical violence, threats, emotional abuse, or financial control.” (1)

“Emotional abuse includes non-physical behaviors that are meant to control, isolate, or frighten someone. These behaviors are often more subtle and hard to identify but are just as serious as other types of abuse.” (2)

It’s important to emphasize that not all purposeful harm to another person, physical or otherwise, is abuse. “What abuse really means is control. When a truly abusive situation exists, it’s because one party is seeking to control the other through abuse.” (2)

Abuse is a pattern of behavior that involves one person intentionally harming another. That harm is meant to control, and it can take on more forms than just physical. 

In our world, all abuse is terrible. Vitally, our world is not a pirate rom-com.

Adding context: what is abuse in Our Flag Means Death?

Our Flag Means Death is a romantic comedy with one core romantic couple, Ed and Stede, whose story takes priority over everything else. It can be dark, it can be serious, but it is, at its core, a comedy, and not a subtle one at that. (3) Sometimes things are just funny and that’s it.

The show’s meanings aren’t hidden under layers of red herrings and subtext; if you’re compelled to bring out the conspiracy corkboard, you’re probably in too deep.

But this isn’t just a rom-com: it’s a pirate rom-com, and that comes with gratuitous violence. Here’s a short, fun list of examples of things that we can consider canon-typical pirate violence:

Tying hostages to the mast and letting them cook a bit

Wanton murder during a raid (“Note the gusto!”)

Threatening a crush at gunpoint until they stab you

Whippies and yardies

Cutting off toes and feeding them to people “for a laugh”

Literally any violence directed at a racist (this violence is, in fact, good and encouraged)

There’s also the pirate-typical killing of other pirates. Duels don’t seem entirely unusual, and Izzy outright tries to get Stede killed at several points in season one. When Chauncey Badminton and the English navy show up after being summoned by Izzy, Stede’s life isn’t the only one on the line: the rest of the crew is also put in potentially life-threatening danger.

In short, Our Flag Means Death has a lot of violence and peril, and very few instances of violence (looking at you, Hornigold) are treated as anything other than socially acceptable. But do you know what’s really important in the show?

Feelings.

The way characters feel as a result of something is given an immense amount of weight. The show’s subtleties are in the realms of the mental and the emotional, and that’s where the real pain is too. 

Nigel Badminton’s death was bad because it was emotionally and mentally devastating for Stede. Ed’s father’s murder was bad because it hurt him and forced him to create a monstrous alter ego to cope. Both of those men -- Nigel and Father Teach -- are totally acceptable casualties. Their deaths would be net positives (in this universe where abusers are punished for their behavior) if they hadn’t had such strong impacts on our leads.

Feelings are everything in Our Flag Means Death, and the feelings of our leads are the heart of the show. That’s where the story is. That’s where the complexity and ambiguity is. 

So what is abuse in this context? The casual treatment of physical violence and the seriousness of emotional distress tell us to adjust our own moral judgments accordingly. Physical violence is everyday, straightforward, and often comedic; emotional violence is devastating and complicated. Physical violence is cartoonish and, often, part of a punchline. Emotional violence is real and raw and not a joking matter. Planning to murder a guy and steal his identity can be shrugged off; ditching your boyfriend after experiencing a traumatic event is more complicated.

When we ask ourselves if something in OFMD is abuse, we have to consider the act in the context of a rom-com that’s all about the feelings of two guys, set against the violent backdrop of piracy, and absolutely packed with people getting maimed and murdered in casual, comedic ways.

So...

Is Ed abusive in the context of the show?

No.

Aaaand we’re done!

Joking, joking. Obviously I’m going to pick out the examples of “abuse” that people cite and discuss each one, but first: we need to talk about Ed, violence, and anger. 

Ed is not a violent person. He’s not full of rage that’s threatening to erupt at all times, and he’s not some kind of sadist who revels in hurting people. The violence of Blackbeard is a fuckery: it's the theater of fear, an illusion of cruelty calculated to terrify others into surrendering and obeying without (much) bloodshed.

Ed has his whole thing with murder that's rooted in childhood trauma. Killing his abusive father to protect his mother scars him so badly that he distances himself from the situation -- he blames Father Teach’s death on the Kraken, an invented monster. As a pirate, he creates loopholes and rules that technically put one step between him and killing (in his mind). He orders murders and causes deaths and maims and maintains his image as the bloodthirsty Blackbeard, but Ed doesn’t do “the big job” himself until the end of season two. When Stede’s life is in the balance, Ed can kill to protect him. 

Edward Teach kills only to protect.

But that’s killing, and we’re talking about general violence. It's true that Ed is casual about the day-to-day violence of piracy. He participates in it, incites it, and doesn’t feel bad about it. No one does; violence is part of the job.

That leaves us with the "anger problem." Ed is sometimes characterized as an angry person who lashes out when enraged, and canon doesn't at all support this interpretation. Ed gets mad, yes, but his anger is always at least understandable (and, in my opinion, he's one of our more restrained characters). It isn’t a constant, simmering thing that turns him into an abusive monster when he’s triggered. He doesn't always deal with his anger -- or any of his other feelings -- in a good and constructive way because both of our leads lack emotional maturity, but I think it's a grave mistake to characterize him as an angry person.

Hopefully I can elaborate on this idea -- the idea that Ed is only violent and angry in a normal and canon-appropriate way, and anger is by no means one of his defining characteristics -- by doing a run-down of all of the times Ed is accused of being abusive or showing signs of being an abuser-in-the-making.

---

Ed loses his shit on a falling snake during his nature adventure with Stede (S1E7). In this scene, he’s embarrassed about the treasure hunt, oblivious to Stede's intentions, and annoyed by the very existence of nature. He is not relaxed. When nature takes him by surprise, he stabs the crap out of it in a scene that is played for comedy. There’s the important part: this is comedy. Ed is grumpy and his childish tantrum is harmless and silly. It isn’t a red flag. Overreacting while irritated isn’t an indicator that someone will be abusive.

Ed punches Izzy after the English have taken the Revenge, captured Stede, and turned Ed over to Izzy (S1E9). Honestly, I think the fact that Ed lets Izzy talk before punching him demonstrates a great deal of restraint on his part. This is justified anger and fear for Stede’s life. This is not an indicator that Ed makes a habit of hitting Izzy.

In his post-pillow fort era, Ed is cleaning up his cabin when Izzy confronts him (S1E10). Izzy insults Ed, tells him that he’d be better off dead than as he currently is, and says that he serves only Blackbeard (Ed better watch his fucking step). Ed reacts by grabbing Izzy by the throat and telling him to choose his next words carefully. This is, in my opinion, a reasonable reaction and exactly the response Izzy was fishing for. The only pattern this scene indicates is one where Izzy goads Ed until he starts performing the violence expected of Blackbeard.

Which takes us to The Toe Scene.

In real life, it would be extremely fucked up for a boss to remove an employee’s toe and make him eat it. OFMD is not real life. One episode earlier, Ed was talking about the life he was glad to leave behind -- the life where The Toe Thing was done “for a laugh.” Not as punishment, but for fun. It’s set up as something that’s gross (“yuck”), not a grave punishment. When Ed feeds Izzy his toe, he gives Izzy what be asked for: he gives him a violent captain. He gives him Blackbeard. He gives him the guy who fed people toes for fun.

But what’s important here is that Ed is not having fun. He’s having a lot less fun than Izzy is, going by their expressions in the scene. This isn’t who he wants to be, but after having the possibility of a better life snatched away, Ed throws himself back into the sure thing. He becomes the Kraken -- the captain Izzy wants, the violent monster that Ed thinks he is and tries to distance himself from, and the only thing Ed thinks he can be. It’s sad. It’s desperation, not anger and abuse.

In the second season, Ed headbutts Stede after he’s revived from his coma-death (S2E4). In the next scene, Stede is holding a cold steak to his face and calling it an accident. Roach says “that’s what they all say” -- a line that alludes to domestic violence. The thing is? It’s not, and the crew has expectations of Ed that Stede doesn’t (as indicated by Stede's earlier assertion that Ed's a nice guy in response to Olu's concern that Ed will kill him).

Ed is freshly out of a coma (or newly alive). He’s nonverbal. His brain is, medically speaking, couscous. He still has one foot in the gravy basket. When he sees the man who left him hovering over him -- the man he loves, the man who just appeared to him as a mermaid -- he tries to say something. When that fails, he resorts to a headbutt. This is a single violent action perpetrated by a confused and hurt man who doesn’t know what to do with all of his feelings. He can't talk. He can't push Stede away.

Stede understands all of this, even if the other characters don’t. He sees the headbutt for what it is: a bit of a bitchy move. He isn’t afraid of Ed. He never is. 

Stede also isn’t afraid of Ed when he acts out later that episode. When Ed learns that Stede went back to Mary, he excuses himself from the dinner table, smashes a chair against the wall, and knocks a vase to the ground. In this entire episode (this entire season), Ed is having intense feelings that he doesn’t know how to express or work through. The reveal that Stede returned to his wife is the final straw. He takes his tangled feelings out on an acceptable target (a chair, a vase) instead of Stede because he doesn’t want to hurt Stede.

This looks like displacement -- when “an unacceptable feeling or thought about a person, place or thing is redirected towards a safer target.” Displacement is an “intermediate level coping mechanism.” That is, it’s more sophisticated than the ways children deal with intense issues, but it’s still not entirely mature. In an adult, it indicates a level of emotional immaturity. (4) Ed is emotionally immature, not inherently violent. He gets overwhelmed by his feelings and lashes out -- not at a person, but at something that can’t get hurt. 

Displacement is not an indicator that someone is an abuser. It’s a coping mechanism. It’s an attempt at emotional regulation. It’s not the best coping mechanism, but it’s not a sign that someone is going to go into a rage and assault people.

Stede cringes when Ed smashes the chair and sends the vase crashing to the ground, but he’s not afraid of Ed. He is never afraid of Ed because he knows that Ed isn’t a real threat to him. He cringes because sometimes that's what a person does when a loud thing happens. That's what people do when chair shrapnel starts flying. Also? It's kind of embarrassing behavior on Ed's part. They're guests enjoying a mediocre dinner! That's no way to act!

And this leaves us with the first two episodes of season two.

Ed is fully in his Kraken era. He has no hope that Stede will return, he no longer trusts the crew, and he feels trapped in a life he absolutely doesn’t want. He thinks that he has to perform Blackbeard until death sets him free. He sobs in his cabin when no one’s looking. Publicly, Ed fades into the role of remorseless and bloodthirsty pirate captain.

Needless to say, this makes for a shit work environment. Ed works the crew (and himself) too hard. He drinks and does drugs (note that his drug of choice is rhino horn -- visually coded as cocaine -- instead of alcohol, the drug associated with his father) and runs everyone ragged. He’s an absolutely terrible boss, but he isn’t abusive.

That isn’t to say that the crew left on the Revenge isn’t traumatized. They are! They’ve been thrown off balance by the sudden change for the worse in someone who was previously a pretty cool guy, and they’re traumatized by the neverending violence that the constant raids -- raids that are bloody and deadly, not the fuckeries of the past -- demand of them. They’re traumatized by that final night in the storm when Ed does everything in his power to goad them into killing him, almost murdering everyone in the process. They’re traumatized by their own attempt at murder and their own capacities for violence.

In S2E4, Blackbeard’s crew has flashbacks to the violence they perpetrated under the Kraken: Jim fighting Archie, Fang breaking a man over his knee. They’re haunted by guilt about what they did to Ed, as evidenced by their Lady Macbeth-style scrubbing. Their own violence is a significant part of their trauma.

No, that doesn’t absolve Ed. He drove the violence -- demanded it of both the crew and himself. He hurt other people because he was hurting, and that’s terrible. 

Ed’s behavior in the first two episodes of season two is horrible, especially when his desperation reaches a fever pitch, but there's no attempt to control and no habitual mistreatment. Nothing he's doing is normal for him. He's spiraling and unraveling and pulling the world apart around him. Not all bad or violent behavior is abuse.

(We also have to ask ourselves just how bad Ed’s behavior really is. Archie, someone from the pirate world who has no idea what the Revenge was like pre-Kraken, tells Jim “that’s how these things usually go” at the height of Ed’s violence. She doesn’t act like she experienced anything out of the ordinary.) 

But what about Izzy?

What about Izzy indeed. Let’s walk through the first two episodes.

One of the first things we see Ed do in season two is shoot a man. At first this seems like the show telling us that Ed is embracing the kind of violence he couldn’t manage before, but if we pay attention, we can see that he’s still following his “not a murderer on a technicality” logic. The man he shoots has a sword through his chest; he's as good as dead. He also falls offscreen before Ed shoots, making the action less impactful.

OFMD is not subtle and this is a quick way to communicate what’s going on with Ed. He’s not doing well and he’s more violent than he was last season, but he’s still himself under the Kraken’s makeup. He hasn’t done a moral one-eighty. If the show wanted us to think that Ed's a monster, they would have made him a hell of a lot more violent.

So. Izzy.

Immediately after Ed tells Izzy that he’s replaceable in S2E1, we reach the scene that some point to as proof of domestic violence. This is where Izzy breaks down because he has just been told in no uncertain terms that he’s not Blackbeard’s special little guy. That’s devastating to him, and he cries when the crew approaches him with kindness and sympathy. 

Jim tells Izzy he’s in an unhealthy relationship with Blackbeard. Frenchie describes their relationship as “toxic.” 

A toxic relationship is “any relationship [between people who] don’t support each other, where there’s conflict and one seeks to undermine the other, where there’s competition, where there’s disrespect and a lack of cohesiveness." (5) And you know what? Yes, Ed and Izzy definitely have a toxic relationship. And is their relationship unhealthy? It sure is -- for both of them. But the crew is, understandably, more sympathetic towards Izzy because they’ve never been present when Izzy was hurting Ed. 

(Only tangentially related, but the crew must have really liked Ed pre-Kraken. As far as they know, the man went dark with no warning or cause. They deal with him for approximately three months (assuming one raid a day), and he has to go so far before they put an end to him. Remember when they were ready to toss Izzy overboard after, like, twelve hours under his command?)

Even though they only have one side of the Izzy and Ed story, the crew isn’t accusing Ed of domestic abuse. The term doesn’t apply to the mutually fucked-up thing that Izzy and Ed have and, beyond that, the scene is played for laughs. Jim and Frenchie use comically modern language. The whole thing feels like an intervention for a stressed-out middle manager with a shitty boss. It's funny. It's a comical thing in a comedy show.

Izzy returns to Ed and tells him that the crew won’t throw treasure overboard to make room for more treasure. Ed says, “And that’s another toe.” Losing a toe is the penalty for failing the kind of captain that Izzy said he will serve. It’s obviously not okay to punish an underling by taking toes, but we’ve already established that toe-removal isn’t a cruel and unusual pirate punishment.

(Specifically, toe-chopping is the cost of Izzy’s failure. Frenchie disobeys and lies to Ed in his short time as first mate and he doesn’t lose a single toe. Izzy bears the brunt of Ed’s cruelty because he’s the one who demanded it.) 

This is not who Ed wants to be, but it’s who he thinks he has to be. It’s who Izzy told him to be.

Next, Izzy makes the mistake of invoking Stede and Ed storms above deck. He holds the crew at gunpoint, one by one, and asks them if they think that the vibes on the ship are poisonous. No one gives him a positive answer and Ed turns the gun on himself. He works himself up until Izzy interrupts and the following exchange happens:

IZZY: “The atmosphere on this ship is fucked. Everyone knows why.” ED: “Well, I don’t. Enlighten me.” IZZY: “Your feelings for Stede fucking Bo--”

 [Ed shoots Izzy in the leg. Ed steps over him on his way back to his cabin.]

ED: “Throw this shit overboard and get suited up.”

The fucked up vibe is not because of Ed's feelings for Stede. Ed's feelings for Stede resulted in Ed having a nineties-rom-com-style breakdown and proposing a talent show. The Kraken and the ensuing fucked atmosphere were ushered in by Izzy.

Izzy is only shot after he proposes talking it through (something he attacked Ed for in S1E10) and publicly places all of the blame on Ed's feelings (feelings that he previously threatened Ed about -- Izzy owes his loyalty to Blackbeard, not a "namby pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend" who would be better off dead). Whatever Izzy's intentions are, it's not irrational for Ed to interpret this as a further threat or an attempt to stir up a mutiny.

What’s important for this post is this: Ed's actions are not unusually cruel for a pirate captain who considers his first mate out of line. Shooting someone in the leg is the kind of thing that the idea of Blackbeard that Izzy worships does to maintain his reputation.

Fang cries when Ed shoots Izzy because he knows Blackbeard. He has been with Blackbeard longer than anyone else, and this isn’t Blackbeard. Blackbeard doesn’t work his crew this hard. Blackbeard doesn’t disregard the deaths of long-time crewmates like Ivan. Blackbeard doesn’t shoot his own crew. Fang is off-balance and distraught because his captain of twenty years is acting far, far more cruel than the one he knew.

This is not Ed as he usually is. Ed at his worst is breaking all of his past patterns. He’s behaving like a different person. His actions at this point in time are not typical of his past actions or predicative of his future actions.

When we reach S2E2, Ed is chipper. He’s cleaning up, he’s tying up loose ends, and he has decided that, no matter what, this is the day that he dies. He’s determined. First, he’ll give Izzy a go at killing him; next is the storm, the destruction of the steering wheel, and taking increasingly desperate actions to get the crew to stop him. He tells Jim and Archie to fight to the death. He goes to blow the mast away with a cannon and doesn’t react as nameless crew members are being washed overboard. 

Ed is stopped only by Izzy’s reappearance and the violent mutiny that follows.

None of what Ed does here is abuse. This is desperate violence. This is an unwell man begging everyone around him to send him to doggy heaven.

And finally, we have the big murder party in the season finale. A surprising number of fans interpret Ed’s willingness to cut down naval officers as a sure sign that he’s gotten worse and he’s more violent than ever. This is, in my opinion, a take that completely ignores everything we know about Ed and his relationship to violence.

It bears repeating: Edward Teach kills only to protect. He murders his father to protect his mother. He kills as Blackbeard to protect himself (and no matter how he tries to distance himself from that violence, he still causes deaths). He mows down colonists for Stede. He kills for safety and for love, and by the end of season two, he has made some kind of peace with the Kraken and his own capacity for violence.

It’s sweet. It wouldn’t be sweet in the real world, but in this world? In a world where physical violence is funny more often than it’s serious? In a world full of pirate characters who all have hefty body counts? It’s growth. It’s Ed healing.

Ed is doing better. He’s not a threat to the man he loves, and now he’s not a threat to himself either.

Anyway.

No, Ed is not abusive. No, there’s no indication that Ed will become abusive in the future.

Dislike characters. Take issue with things. Feel whatever you want to feel, but remember that abuse survivors are not a monolith. Consider, just for a moment, that the abuse you think you see in the show is not textual. Ask yourself if Ed is truly worse than all of the other characters or if you have some bias warping your view of him. 

Finally: please keep in mind that I’m not trying to present The One True Interpretation. I’m just rolling all of my arguments and thoughts into a ball and throwing it out into the wild. You don’t have to agree with me but, if you don’t, I hope you’ll at least consider what I'm saying.

Peace and love and goodbye.

[inuette]

A lot of the arguments we see other anti-radqueers use against RQs are TERF rhetoric (i.e. "You wouldn't understand what it's like to be born as [X]," "Biologically you're not [X] and lying that you are is immoral," etc.) I wish to raise alternative arguments one can use that aren't TERF rhetoric that still work and arguments to convince radqueers that they don't need to be apart of that community (because remember, the goal isn't "extermination" — it's education!!!)

Transitioning to another race is literally impossible. This one isn't even the TERF argument of "You'll always be a man/woman!! >:(" because hormonally, physically and socially — one CAN transition to another gender. This isn't possible with race. The biology that determines what race you are can't be changed like how one's gender can.

You cannot and will not experience the culture the same as someone who was born into it/raised into it would (nor would you experience disconnect in the same way!) The only man or woman "culture" that's present in society is the one that's forced onto them. Ethnic cultures are much more nuanced and stem from centuries of tradition, and while you can argue that that's the same for "man culture" or "woman culture," that's different depending on the society too. Plus, if you're just generally 'transitioning' to "transblack" or "transjapanese," for example, what exactly are you transitioning to? Different people in different areas will have different cultures with their only link being their ethnicity/race. Are you transitioning based off of stereotypes? Or how you 'think' a black person should look? What about people who differ from that? What about the large culture differences even between people in the same country? What then?

For those who are transage and attempting to 'transition' — age regression exists. Get a caregiver, or if you don't trust anyone else to, be your own caregiver! Age regression isn't just to ages 1-9, you can regress to your teenage years! Tips for age regression and age dysphoria exist that DON'T involve lying about your age.

Those with BIID who identify as transdisabled, amputations and disabling yourself are an option. Getting therapy is an option, but disabling oneself is the last choice. There are ways to deal with your dysphoria, there's medication too if that's the route you wanna take. But you don't need to be apart of a community that actively supports groomers, racism, pro-contact paraphiles, or any of that shit to ease your dysphoria.

Transspecies. Do I even need to say it? There are people who are transspecies and have transitioned. It was a nonhuman term at heart, not a radqueer term. There are tips and ways to ease your dysphoria as well that don't include being apart of the radqueer community. Unless you're using your 'identity' as a transspecies being to act on your paraphilias, the otherkin, therian, alterhuman and nonhuman communities will welcome you with open arms!

If anyone else has alternative (non-TERF rhetoric) arguments that the community can (and should) start using more, please add on in the reblogs!

[elumish]

"being cognizant of the implications of what I write" and "doing what you can to avoid hurting other people" sound a hell of a lot like the people who claim writing toxic relationships is bad because it isn't inherently or explicitly demonizing the relationship, and it's "triggering" abuse survivors. "Don't like, don't read" exists for a reason, but it's a lost rule to far too many. It's impossible, unrealistic, and unreasonable to expect someone to know and cater to anything and everything that could possibly her someone.

Writing a toxic relationship that doesn't end in that relationship being clear cut disavowed is probably going to hurt some people. Writing an incestuous relationship or a homophobic relationship is going to hurt some people. Those stories still deserve to be told. Sometimes you end up dating a homophobe, and 4+ years into the relationship you realize you're queer, and you have to juggle a long term relationship with what you understand about yourself. And not everyone has the strength or the means to walk away from that relationship. Is it toxic and traumatic to be in that situation? Yes. Is reading it potentially going to be triggering for some people? Yes. It still deserves to be written.

That's where your language gets muddy. Because the same arguments you present are the same ones used by purity culture warriors. It DOES need to be clarified, because far too many people equate "avoid hurting other people" with "authors should never write anything even remotely toxic or triggering". Because "be cognizant of the implications of your writing" too often means "never criticize a minority author except for when they don't write representation exactly the way you want it perfectly" or "you didn't explicitly say this relationship was bad so you're implying it's okay and that's evil".

With as much censorship as there is currently happening, YES, you DO actually have to keep this in mind. How ironic that you want to preach about being "cognizant of implications", yet viciously attack anyone for elaborating on your own ambiguity.

Wow, I'm so glad that we've decided that saying that someone was using a straw man fallacy is a vicious attack (though, somehow, an anon swearing at me in my asks and calling me an asshole was a totally measured reaction).

Look, anon, I am not at fault for you reading things into my words that I never said. I am not using subtext. There is not a deeper meaning to what I'm saying.

When I say "be cognizant of the implications of what you write" I mean literally that. i mean that you should know what you're writing. You should have an understanding of the meaning and the implication of what you've written down. That's it. That's the entire meaning of that statement. Understand your own work and the implications of it.

When I write stories involving characters who are or have been in the military, for example, I take some time to think about how it fits within the broader context of American civic religion re: the military and our general pro-military narrative in the culture that I live in. I look at how I'm writing the character and the world to see if I am sending messages that I don't want to be sending. When I write a character who was deployed to Afghanistan, for example, I think about what I or the book is implying about the invasion/war and how that might continue to shape or subvert existing narratives about the War in Afghanistan and about Afghanistan in general.

When I say "doing what you can to avoid hurting other people" I mean literally that, too. I mean putting even the bare minimum thought into (as noted above) the implications of what you are writing and then, if you identify something that you think might hurt other people, doing what you can to minimize that.

Continuing the example above, maybe I realize that I included a line that implied that average Afghan citizens are responsible for the deaths of American civilians, when it was really intended to just be a disillusioned character's feelings about their experience during the war. I would then edit the line to reflect my intention (the disillusioned character's feelings about their experience) while minimizing the harm (not implying Afghan citizens are responsible for the deaths of American civilians, which reinforces Islamophobic and anti-Afghan narratives). Understand implication, do what I can to avoid hurting others.

But you control what you write, and you are the one who makes the decision as to what to include or not include. As I noted in one of the posts you all are so mad at me for, we can figure out what that means for ourselves, based on our own morals and ethics and standards. I am a writer! I give writing advice! My advice is how to make your own writing better, not about how to somehow censor other people. This is not about critiquing other people's writing or about when you can or can't criticize authors or about anything other than writing your own stories.

There is nothing inherently wrong with writing bad or toxic or awful things. I do that in my stories all the time. I just also do my best to write about them in a way that minimizes the harm to others, based on my own standard of what is harm and what it means to minimize that harm.

There is an irony in you telling me I sound like I'm making an argument that I literally refuted in the last ask I got about this, but c'est la vie.

I can't control the made up things you read into what I write. But stop accusing me of saying things that I didn't say and then getting mad at me for it.

[randomwriteronline]

I'd like to ask your thoughts on your Foster Parent AU, please!

(scuttling towards you at the speed of sound) WOULD YOU LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT PARENTAL LOVE AND THE HORRORS

OK so. i. do not remember how this came to me BUT i am half certain it was due to my "the turaga are the mata's parental figures whom they love dearly and are loved by and artakha has lost the custody battle So Severely that he can see them once every two months" view of their relationship (which i have exaggerated in that description for comical effect) and then bloodborne got involved in it bc im watching a blindrun of it

this resulted in what was at first a Superpowered Teens AU becoming a Parenthood And Other Horrors AU. sort of. my thoughts about it are still unfortunately vague and the more i write it down the more incomprehensible it becomes BUT take this mess

Very simply put: six parentless teens, separated from birth but vaguely aware of having five siblings somewhere out there, are serendipitously handed over to six very loving foster parents who all happen to be friends and like to hang out.

except its not a coincidence, their instinctual knowledge of one another's existence is not just a gut feeling, their guardians are very aware of everything thats actually going on but wont say anything, a weird man claiming paternity of them keeps showing up and very aggressively demanding they be handed over to him, and they are not human.

So anyways!

the relationships between the turaga and the mata are the Big Focus for the chunk of story thats like Normal bc. i love them. ofc

Whenua and Onua hit it off immediately despite Whenua being the one whos the most tense abt this whole situation of Taking A Teen In His House - this is partially thanks to the fact that he has a business handling and selling bugs and especially worms and Onua loves being in the fucking dirt as much as possible, so they go on nice hikes collecting crawlies of all sorts and having a fun time bonding over their shared love for beasts that live in the ground. Onua used to get yelled at for being always dirty so hes having a blast with his foster dad who starts shaking and hooting in excitement when his incredibly autistic teen son pulls an entire mole out of the ground and proudly shows it to him so he can identify it properly. Onua has a small pocket that is always SQUIRMING with worms and he hands one over to each of his siblings when he meets them for the first time to... varying reactions (mostly baffled polite disgust, tho Lewa falls in love and decides thats his new pet)

on the completely opposite end of the spectrum, Tahu fucking HATES Vakama at first. he has a reputation for running away to "find his siblings" (nobody believed him) and this old man is NOT going to stop him. as in he literally isnt. Tahu glares daggers at him on the drive home and tells him hell disappear as soon as he can and Vakama deadpan goes alright, can i at least get you a tent first. can i get you a sleeping bag first. can i get you a portable stove first. can i teach you valuable working and cooking skills so you can find a way to keep yourself alive and indipendent first. and he manages to keep Tahu around by legit just preparing him for living alone when he inevitably runs off - which he ends up not doing bc of All That and also Vakama has a FORGE in his HOUSE and Tahu loves fire so much and also hes actually a very cool dad but hes embarrassed to tell him bc he was so mean to him at first. Vakama gets him into glass blowing (so he doesnt try to put his whole hand in the furnace) and he is so so proud of his lil crafts. Tahu gives him a necklace with beads he made and you bet your ass that old man is keeping it on 24/7

Gali has been on her best behaviour for all 15 years of her life and she has so much Insane Wrath in her that shes desperate to keep inside. ofc Nokama (a very mellow linguist who likes to lay on the beach for five hours in her time off) decides its time to teach her the most insane martial arts combination possible and let her go to town on a training dummy until shes about to rip the stuffing out of it until she feels better. then they can do a bit of meditation and go down for her surfing lessons :) Gali was. deeply confused the first time around but Nokama was just like "sweetheart you need that. trust me i do it every saturday its a good way to get the pent up rage down. but do actually talk to me abt whats upsetting you also so i can lend you a hand if i can. that helps too" and wouldnt you know it She Was Right! and Nokama is like so smart and also so stupid and its SO GOOD to be able to tell her "thats a dumb idea" and not immediately get told to shut up. in the course of two weeks and a half Gali's shoulders and jaw finally unclench and shes bitching about school and whatnot and theyre telling each other stupid crass jokes and shes just so happy. thank you mom :) (not pictured is Nokama trying her hardest not to burst into tears bc oH MY GOD IM MOM NOW...... IW ILL PROTECT HER W MY LIFE)

Onewa got handed over this incredibly anxious people pleasing kid who crosses his legs weird to keep them from bouncing and hes like ah..... this one is NOT a sculptor. so he puts off the mallet for a while and tries to see which ball sport he likes the most before letting him loose doing soccer trickshots in the yard for about four hours while hes filing down some rocks into shape. Pohatu then runs twelve laps around the house, passes out, wakes up, runs twenty more laps, eats like a horse, passes out on the couch. thus begins Onewa's quest to get him enough enrichment everyday, which is actually pretty fun and also good for his posture now that he has to Stand Up and Go Places. it takes longer to get Pohatu to act completely genuinely around him bc hes used to some of his snarkier jokes getting him left alone or reprimanded so hes always walking on eggshells, but luckily for him Onewa has No Such Problems and will tell anybody to fuck off and snark back at him playfully and generally just make him feel a lil easier abt being mean. its also very fun to get yelled at by him when racing him bc he gets winded after five meters. Pohatu is still polite but by god if Onewa's influence isnt turning him into a lil bit of a bastard. and we love him for it

Kopaka and Nuju's first interaction was not talking for an entire day and then, at breakfast, Kopaka asking him "are you deaf?" and Nuju replying "are you?" and those were the first words they ever said to each other. and they continued to keep this pattern of minimal conversation for like three months. possibly longer. Nuju is trying very, very hard to remain detached for Reasons and i can tell you already that he is failing. he is respecting Kopaka's space n interests n introducing him as his "flatmate" instead of foster son bc Kopaka is refusing to call him dad at first, but he is NOT saving himself from getting deathly attached to this edgelord. He Is Not. he got Kopaka into photography by handing him a professional digital camera and telling him to do some nice shots so he can print them later if he wants, and Kopaka did just that and turned out to be VERY good at it. now if you look at the walls theyre covered in his photos. Nuju the unflinching astronomer never comments on them but prints them out all fancy and gets them in frames and all. he has set them up as his wallpaper on All Digital Devices. they Do Not talk about this. Kopaka is very flustered about it actually. not that hell say it of course, theyre the same in that regard lmao

Lewa on the other hand starts calling Matau dad after roughly two hours. he has Imprinted On Him and dad has Wholly Accepted That. it helps that the kid is as chaotic as him and loves to listen to him tell him abt his old days as a stuntman while hes custom modding motors and bikes. he very quickly realizes, however, that Lewa needs to be in his natural habitat aka At The Skatepark or he will start peeling the paint off the walls with his bare fucking nails so he puts a pair of rollerskates on that beast (plus protective gear) and unleashes him upon some unsuspecting ramps. he treats his practice like its the olympics. im talking full commentary, arbitrarily pitting him against random kids, and screamed cheering that scares off several smaller children and gets him ugly looks from the other parents. Lewa is soaking in that attention like its a hot bath, hes having the time of his life. Matau is also... surprisingly? good? at making him feel safe? Lewa has vivid night terrors and Matau knows how to ease him back down from the fear and panic without being silly or dismissive about it either. like hell lay down with him if it can help even tho Lewa is techically too old for that by now and just not. make a fuss of it

so anyways things settle into normality, the kids meet each other via their foster parents bein very close pals and become friends, theyre hanging out, weird elemental stuff happens sometimes but its so minimal they dont even notice it really (the turaga do, and theyre monitoring that closely)

and then Artakha shows up.

and Artakha's mere existence ANYWHERE in the kids' sorroundings is enough to make the turaga incredibly on edge and territorial. which in turn, together with Artakha claiming ownership over them, clues the mata in that something is going on and that it is not normal at all.

Artakha is. oh boy. he is certainly A Guy. he is incredibly cold, unfeeling, relentless in his insistence that the kids come with him. his skin is excessively smooth and his movements feel calculated in a way that is hard to describe. his hands are always cold. he seems to be a scientist of sorts, or at least he dresses in a way that reminds of a stereotypical scientist. he does not refer to the mata as his children or as people in general, but he claims to have made them and as such demands custody. he never touches them, but being near him stirs something confusing in them. he instigates a visceral reaction from the turaga that makes them almost literally bark at him by simply being in their line of sight. its so bad that their worry and discomfort is literally physical and they will sometimes puke or get a fever during or after an interaction with him. its like he activates some kind of lizard brain response from them.

he puts so much pressure on the kids that the previously dismissable element-related strangeness ramps up in intensity together with weird dissociative episodes to the point its genuinely getting scary.

Tahu steps into the spent furnace and immediately ignites a flame. Onua tries to bury himself and almost digs through a sewage tube. Gali falls off her surboard and does not resurface for half an hour. Pohatu clips through a block of marble and has to be carved out of it. Lewa leaps off during a grind and he just disappears into thin air.

Kopaka becomes snow.

One night Nuju feels a sudden cold wind coming from inside the house and runs straight into Kopaka's bedroom praying it hasnt happened and find only a small tornado of snow violently tearing the place apart. hes despairing over losing his boy when he notices something that looks like a hand trying to reach out to him - so he grabs it and pulls as hard as he can, and the hand slowly grows an arm and an elbow and a forearm and hes yanking as hard as he can until he finally rips Kopaka out of the snow and falls to the ground with him. he hugs him as tight as he can and tells him how wonderful hes been, fighting back like that. then he notices, to his horror, that Kopaka has gone into cardiac arrest.

in five different households the mata instantly know something has happened. they dont know what, but they know its bad.

minutes after Gali tells her this, Nokama gets a call from Nuju. she drives herself and her daughter to the hospital to find her friend bawling his eyes out about his boy, his little boy, trying to tell her how it happened and how he almost killed him and while Nokama is trying to calm him and call the other turaga Gali sneaks off to see Kopaka, who is stable but catatonic. as the turaga arrive with the mata in tow, the latter all gather around their brother: touching him seems to let him live through them (or is it the other way around?) and he begins getting out of his vegetative state while they move him around and speak his thoughts as though they were him

which is. you know. Not Normal

so this extremely unnatural situation (and Nuju holding Kopaka and kissing his face like his life depends on it and let me fucking tell you It Just Might) is the perfect time to talk about WHAT in the FUCK any of this is about. you know. just in case all this happens again.

as it turns out, Artakha IS a scientist and he DID make the mata. the reason behind this is still unknown to the turaga, who know him as they were previous test subjects of his for the same project who managed to escape after essentially being sequestered - the main difference being that they were humans who underwent the side-effects of what he claimed to be a "vaccine" of sorts, whereas the mata were physically created in a laboratory and are something else. their bets were on very advanced robots, since the facility they were in did have some robot-making stuff. going back to the turaga, whatever the vaccine was had meant to elevate them in some sense or other; what it did was, effectively, giving them the ability to undergo a very painful transformation when encountering specific triggers. this also led to more or less useful sidepowers, like the ability to understand a "star language" and in Vakama's case getting The Visions! You Know The Ones. these two combined clued them in on the creation of the mata, and they decided that they would NOT have allowed Artakha and his buddy* to pull some shit on what the stars essentially described as newborn children. their plan was to break into their facility again and steal the babies and maybe raise them?? try to???? that seemed to be the plan in the stars?????? but effectively they. uh. Dont Know What Happened. they just collectively woke up with the knowledge that the kids were dropped off to the fostering/adoption system. between them making a plan to go get them and After there is a giant black hole and they have been desperately trying to find them again for fifteen years to try and give them a normal life away from everything as like. an apology for being born in such terrible circumstances

*wait Artakha has a buddy? yes! apparently! its hard to explain. there was certainly a second person, but the turaga never saw them properly. its possible they were one of the triggers that caused the transformation, as their memories get muddled if not just ripped away from their minds while transformed

from here to the next part of the story there is a gap of plot that i Do not exactly have in mind. the mata definitely experience the same thing as Kopaka, becoming their element and needing to be physically taken out of it before they are lost completely in it. Artakha might actively trigger this a few times, for example with Lewa (who kicks his ass as a result) and generally becomes much more aggressive in his pursuit of the kids while the turaga do their best to keep him at bay

AND THEN ITS FACILITY TIME. i do NOT know how they get there i just know they DO and the HORRORS are coming

first of all: the place is effectively some kind of very powerful observatory around which some insane sci fi bullshit was built. here the mata and turaga find themselves pursued by Artakha as well as his buddy - an enigmatic woman named Velika who observes them through the cameras and eventually corners them in a specific area of the facility

before that, the power briefly goes out due to the kids trying to make Artakha lose their tracks. during this time, Gali finds a locked door filled with medical equipment meant to keep someone alive through a coma. the room is covered in dust, very quiet, and there is a bed in the middle of it. someone is clearly on it. when the lights come back up the machines restart and she is able to see the state of the body on the bed just as a monitor loudly announces a flatlining. it is not shown, but baby you can bet that it is Not Pretty.

This, as they will find out later, is Karzhani.

who is a researcher who once partnered with Velika and was then replaced by Artakha.

Velika and Karzhani had different fields of expertise, essentially having an equal split between studies of the mind (Velika) and the body (Karzhani). while running completely different tests they had by complete chance made tentative contact with some kind of ineffable thing which they dubbed "the great spirit": this mostly unilateral relationship (as the great spirit showed very little responsiveness at their probing, providing them what they asked in an incomplete way and rather distractedly) very quickly consumed them, and from curiosity they slowly developed completely different obsessions. Velika remained focused on the strange creature and her studies, growing an unhealthy desire to bring the great spirit down to dissect its brain as she slowly stopped viewing living beings as sapient and began seeing them more as a series of increasingly more complex puzzles for her to crack; Karzhani, who instead had been heartbroken by his inability to have children, began obsessing over the concept of fatherhood and the possibility of creating his own offspring from scratch through the energy and materials they were picking up from the contact with the great spirit. These obsessions coincide in a singular project when it turns out that, in order to bring the great spirit to them, they need a number of sentient minds made with the aformentioned materials to "open the sky" beforehand - hence the idea to create the mata

Velika and Karzhani were on amiable if somewhat apathetic terms before getting their brains boggled by Knowledge Beyond Human Comprehension, but afterwards Karzhanis obsession with parenthood got so bad that he sort of deluded himself into believing Velika was going along with his fantasy of becoming parents and started talking about her like she was his wife who was 100% into his goal, which gave Velika INCREDIBLY BAD VIBES so she decided to replace him. by essentially putting him in a coma, extracting his consciousness, altering it to fit HER goals, placing it in a robot body which shed convinced him to make (bc she cant make bodies, thats his deal) and just leaving the real Karzhani to rot in a vegetative state as like a side experiment. bc as mentioned. she wasnt exactly sane either.

the result of All That is Artakha! who is incredibly despondent to and barely tolerates Velika since she regards him as another side experiment instead of a properly sentient if artificial being. he is essentially a refined version of Karzhani, though Velika was unable to eliminate his possessiveness towards the mata - which was useful to find them but becomes a problem when he refuses to let her use them for her alien contact attempt

so she brutally kills him by disabling his bodily autonomy and throwing him in a shredder as he screams in morse code for help

Livestreamed for the kids and turaga to see!

Because She Is Totally Normal

and speaking of unnecessary cruelty she decides that shes too lazy to trap the mata and go get them herself, so she triggers the turagas transformation to use them as guard dogs fetching her the kids <3

slight problem in her plan being that the turaga get so stressed about this that they manage to slow down the process enough to throw their children to safety aka as far away from them as possible and give them at least some instructions on how to deal with them from their own experience and what little memories dont get blotted out by the transformation. once theyre fully gone tho they are Terrifying As Hell Beasts and start hounding the children like starving bears while the poor things scuttle away into the ventilation and Velika watches the whole thing with great interest

during this escape Lewa ends up finding their seventh "sibling" - that being Tren Krom, made entirely from cosmic material and technically not yet born as he is a failed first attempt by Karzhani to make a child. hes the one whos been pestering Lewa with all those fucking night terrors like a git in the attempt of getting him to find him and let him just stop existing in peace bc hes tired of this not-life not-death situation hes in

hes the most aware of everything thats going on due to being such a simple organism that the cosmic knowledge doesnt faze him. he reveals to him Velikas plan of getting the great spirit in this realm, as well as the fact that the great spirit itself does Not have a body and will have to inhabit one, possibly that of one of the mata (Lewa Will Remember That). before Lewa shuts his containment down and lets him drift to sleep Tren Krom also tells him that Karzhani would have been a terrible father for them, and it was for the best that the turaga got them out of there and still tried to give them a normal life despite everything going to shit so quickly even years after theyd last seen them as itty bitty beasties

speaking of the turaga, they DO each corner their respective mata eventually, bc theyre big terrifying monsters and those are highly stressed teens panicking as they try to scramble away, and they DO NOT HURT THEM nor bring them back to Velika bc that idiot did not account for THE MOM/DAD INSTICT. YES THE HORRORS ARE INEFFABLE BUT SO IS PARENTAL LOVE BITCH.

Velika, loading a gun: ah dangit, they were such a fun experiment

SHE DOES NOT KILL THEM DONT WORRY but she does knock them out and wound them enough to incapacitate them so she can actually get her hands on the kids and drag them into her Fucked Up God-Calling Contraption

she fires it up, the kids almost get atomized by it for a moment as their elemental part gets almost torn out of them...

aand then. it.

doesnt do anything.

the whole process goes through successfully and then everything stops, and the kids are catching their breath but still alive, and nothing happens. to say Velika is anything less than fucking pissed would be an understatement.

her up until now eerily cheerful demeanor drops. she starts checking her machinery and data trying to understand what went wrong, and all she gets back is that, technically, everything went perfectly fine. she turns to the kids who are still horrendously weak, shaking them and yanking them and demanding an explanation because it HAS to be something THEY did that caused this (she is only partially right*). shes pacing angrily everywhere. what the HELL did you do. WHERE is the god i wanted to dissect. im going to kill you. you damn kids. and why am i cold all of a sudden. (puts hands on her neck) wait wheres my pulse. (checks properly) holy shit i have no pulse.

she then spends about. i dont know. ten minutes? slowly going insane as she loses control of her body piece by piece. she reverts to a giddy scientist except now shes very audibly panicked about the situation, and loudly dictates the description of her demise to her computer as if it was another experiment. she ends up almost completely paralyzed on the floor snarling orders at the mata to come pick her back up until she finally stops breathing and hushes completely

and then her voice rises again. but its not her

*because in the brief moment while the mata were closest to getting Fucking Spaghettified, their supernatural bond shared the info Lewa had learned from Tren Krom and managed to contact the great spirit as he started looking for a body to inhabit in order to come visit, directing him to Velika instead of any of them :)

they didnt fuckin know that would have KILLED HER bc the great spirit DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO USE A BODY and Velika was VERY MUCH UNAWARE IT WAS THERE so to stop her from hogging the controls it just SLOWLY SHUT DOWN ALL ORGANS

so this cosmic entity is just There, On The Ground, calling for them through Velikas mouth without moving it bc as mentioned it does NOT know how to use a body. it knows theyre there bc they called it but it doesnt know how to move its eyes so he has no clue where they are but he wants to see em :( its been a while since its seen those six stars and it was so happy to hear their voices again so it was really looking forward to seeing them :(

except the second it sees them (when they manage to get up bc theyre. struggling) the cosmic horror experiences the Cosmic Horror right back! because it Does Not Have a body, and it hasnt seen any body, ever, and all this skin and flesh and bones and hair and stuff is SO absolutely nightmarish that not only does it not recognize the kids, as they are humans, but it also just leaves back for whatever recess of space it came from in no time. all this fucking unethical as hell work and descents into madness and then those two/three idiot scientists didnt even realize their alien mightve had this bad of a culture shock and felt compelled to get out in less than two minutes. fuckin hell.

the kids sort of let everything sink in very quickly. because goddamn that was a lot. and then they remember OH NO OUR PARENTS and hurl themselves back to the turaga to make sure theyre alright bc theyve had enough trauma already for today theyd rather their guardians be alive and possibly not big terrifying monsters anymore

theyre alright :) they get to hug their kiddos tight

and then i guess they all go to the Fucking HOSPITAL and as soon as theyre all safe and sound and fine they can take a fucking break

and that is. an absolute clusterfuck of an au dhgjsgdgkf

it sounded better in my head. damn

anyways take this hellish thing hope you find SOMETHING of value in it bc im slowly clipping through the wall thinking about it

[mcl38]

lmao i had to unfollow a mclaren moot because they took the "twink" thing to an extreme and were pointing out how he's just oscar's little twink and would always be fragile and small instead of big and strong and fit like "broadscar" and i really just had to. 🤦‍♀️ fit? FIT? lando was the only driver not on the brink of fainting after qatar, not everything in f1 is about how "broad" and "muscular" you seem. i wanted to give the benefit of doubt at first but when the fetishizing gay relationships turned into pushing these bodyshaming stereotypes onto a literal professional athlete i was out.

i mean its so wild bc half of them seem to give the twink descriptor to both drivers and half specifically pin it on lando because hes smaller than oscar & make it into a whole Dynamic of lando being sooo toppable or whatever. which just shows that there isnt actually any weight to 'twinklaren' at all and it rly is meaningless, bc surely if it was clear cut and obvious these differences wouldnt exist ykwim? like its just about what serves their fandom purpose in that moment

idk i think as much as the term broadscar is unfortunately quite funny to me, f1 fandom discussions abt weight and bodies r kind of bound to become problematic (real sense not 2014 tumblr sense) bc of the requirements of the sport. the way lewis has said that hes not allowed to bulk up because it would make his weight balance too lopsided (as a side note u guys do not know how ready i am for post retirement bicep BEAST lewis hamilton. the only way im gonna survive him retiring) etc like its not just about appearance for them.

in terms of how lando is fit like ur 100% right - stuff like qatar shows that he (and jon) has been doing his due diligence w preparing for these conditions. u can also just see in that last quadrant video how hes obviously very physically fit and ready for the season. its just that bodies have natural differences between them - oscar is genetically taller, lando is genetically more flexible; oscar is naturally broader around his arms, lando is naturally broader around his back, etc. and its not necessarily an issue to point these things out or even joke about them (when ppl say daniel's got birthing hips it still makes me laugh and its been years since i first heard it) but at some point it does start to show a fundamental misunderstanding of what f1 drivers do. like do i need to pull up the real sweat im a high performance athlete clip or what

so thats on the body stuff. re: the twink stuff i think the reason it rubs me, you, many ppl wrong even before we consciously realise it is like. a twink is a type - not just a body type, a *type*. in the gay male* community, you identify yourself as a twink (or bear, otter, etc) because some people are particularly attracted to twinks, bc they have a type. then obviously because the gay community is way more than just sexual attraction & has a lot of cultural capital, the term twink gained connotations and cultural history etc and grew past that. but the origins are still very much in gay male* attraction. so now that the term has become accessible to ppl who arent in that community, and therefore arent *participating*, identifying someone by their physical characteristics (and maybe implied penetrative sex preference) no longer has the subtext of appeal, but of derision. because no longer is it implied that everyone involved is a gay man*, which means calling someone a twink also implicitly calls them gay. and i think 'twink' specifically gained traction compared to other types also bc of its association w femininity in one's physical appearance - which, again, ur just derogatorily calling someone feminine and gay. even if, say, ur a member of the lgbt community who isn't a gay man*, it still carries the subtext - like anon u completely correctly identified the condescending undertones of whoever ur talking about. which is why i say we should just bring back fag #justsayfag

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 3

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s becoming extra horny around you in the office.

Word Count: 2,697

Warnings: still smut, boss x employee affair, unprotected sex everywhere, hints at misogyny???

A/N: And a mini series was born 😂 no but honestly, I didn’t expect for parts 1 and 2 of The Match to receive such amazing feedback 😭 I really enjoy reading everyone’s reaction to this series and trust me, all comments keep giving me ideas. Thank you all so much!!!!!!! 😘😘😘 and btw, this part isn’t their promotion “celebration” because that will have a chapter on its own. Long story short, that will be pure porn with no plot at all so stay tuned for that 😂

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

It’s been a rollercoaster ride since you matched with James— Bucky, on Tinder. Maybe not a literal rollercoaster ride but with how Bucky had you bouncing on his cock as he sat on the couch, or that one time he asked you to sit on his face inside his car, it was a ride nonetheless and an exhilarating one at that.

Despite your relationship with him, the both of you surprisingly managed to keep things professional when there was work involved. Of course there were times when quickies in the office took place, given that Bucky was fucking insatiable (let’s all admit it, so were you). Work was work and you excelled at being the head of your department, but once office hours are over, you excelled more at giving Bucky head.

Oftentimes you found yourself worrying about getting caught. You’ve always been careful but lately, Bucky seemed to be slipping up. He just couldn’t seem to get his hands off of you and he was becoming more and more obvious. You were pretty good at being discreet but sometimes, it was hard not to react to Bucky when he would look at you with a naughty glint in his eyes, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you present. He’d tilt his head sometimes as he looked at you, lifting a brow as he smirked whenever he was impressed.

You ended up stuttering when he gave you that look one time. It was proud and it made your chest swell and your pussy throb. He rewarded you that night in his office by making you cum on his face twice.

That look was going to be the death of you and he was giving it to you now as you entered the conference room for the monthly mancom meeting. Bucky eyed you as you went around the desk, lifting a brow and pulling the empty chair next to him, commanding you to sit beside him without having to say a word.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair, noticing how Bucky eyed your ass before you sat down.

“Is everyone here?” He asked after ogling your backside for a good five seconds.

All the department heads affirmed their attendance and soon enough, the meeting began with the HR manager reporting first. Lights were shut off and as soon as the report was projected onto the wall, Bucky began his little game. You were paying attention to the slides being presented until you felt Bucky’s foot nudge your ankle, hooking around it to slightly open up your legs.

You side-eyed him and subtly shook your head. He had never done this in public, at least, not during meetings. So you weren’t sure why he was being so frisky now, placing a hand on your thigh. You grabbed his hand and moved it away gently before slightly moving your seat away from Bucky, crossing your legs in the process.

“What do you think Mister Barnes?” The HR manager asked.

All heads turned towards Bucky, who obviously wasn’t paying attention provided that his hand was trying to sneak back onto your thigh. He cleared his throat and straightened up on his seat, fixing his tie before pursing his lips.

“I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?” He asked and you fought the urge to snort.

“I was wondering if we can hold another seminar about workplace etiquette.” She said.

Bucky hummed, “Do we have problematic employees?” He asked curiously.

The HR manager sighed, a blush creeping up to her face. “There have been rumors going around the office about employees engaging in...lewd acts within the workplace. I thought that we should revisit the topic about workplace code of ethics.” She explained.

You ended up in a coughing fit, quickly apologizing and reasoning out that you were having allergies today. Bucky tensed in his seat but managed to remain calm. He stole a quick glance at you before turning back to the HR manager.

“And have we identified these employees?” He asked, rubbing a hand on his chin. A nervous habit of his, you noticed.

This was what you have been worrying about! Bucky has been fucking you around the office and now everyone was catching on to it. And although you wanted to blame Bucky for this, you knew you were just as much to blame. Damn you and your hormones!

The HR manager shook her head, much to your and Bucky’s relief. “No sir, but some employees have been noticing and hearing things, especially after office hours. Janet for instance, filed a report last week about hearing hushed whispers from the pantry, followed by the creaking sound of the table. The following day, shards of someone’s mug were found in the trash. There was an assumption that there might be employees behaving inappropriately.”

“Oh my god, I’m close. Bucky I’m—“

Bucky’s hand clamped around your mouth as he shushed you, hearing footsteps approach the pantry. You stilled as you nervously watched shadows move beneath the door, but of course, this didn’t stop Bucky from snapping his hips against yours.

His thrusts were slow and languid, but he slammed back in with such force that made the pantry table scratch against the floor. Once the footsteps faded, Bucky wasted no time to get back to fucking you. He lifted your legs up and rested the back of your ankles against his shoulders, slightly bending down over you so he can angle his cock to perfectly hit that one sweet spot.

A single, powerful thrust sent you reeling, your hands finding purchase on the sides of the table.

“Cum, baby. Cum.” Bucky growled.

Another thrust made you gasp out loud, feeling the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against your cervix. One hand reached for his bicep, your nails digging into his dress shirt while the other reached back for the edge of the table only to knock off the mug resting on top.

You made a face when you heard it crash against the floor. The mug was soon forgotten when Bucky leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hand reached down to rub your clit.

You wiped the sweat on your forehead upon remembering that incident. Fucking Janet just had to file a report. It was after office hours, for fuck’s sake! Who cares what employees do after their shift?!

“I see.” Bucky responded, fixing his suit. “Okay. I approve of the seminar. Who’s next?” He asked, quickly changing the topic as if it was no big deal.

The head of the Finance department began with his presentation and just like that, Bucky returned his hand on top of your thigh, prying your legs open. You turned to him with a look of disbelief on your face. He was acting as if there wasn’t any close call earlier. You couldn’t believe this man, sure he was hot as hell, but you weren’t giving in to him. Not today, not when the both of you were almost caught.

The entire mancom meeting was pretty eventful, with Bucky teasing your legs with his hand despite your half-hearted protests. You hated how Bucky was able to familiarize himself with your body and how it reacted to him. Your eyes might be saying no but with how your legs eventually spread on their own, Bucky knew you were desperate for him too.

-

It was an hour past your shift when you received an e-mail from Bucky with the subject being “Report”. Thinking it was one his follow-up e-mails (Bucky is an impatient man when it comes to the submission of reports and you weren’t an exception) you opened it immediately and choked on your spit when a photo of his dick showed up on your desktop. You started clicking around in an attempt to close his e-mail, but instead of hitting the “x” button, you ended up maximizing the window instead.

“Jesus fucking christ!” You cursed and covered your monitor with your hands as you frantically looked around the office.

It was like a fucking jump scare, like one of those computer pranks asking you to concentrate on a dot before a scary photo would pop out. Except that it was Bucky’s dick that appeared. A dick scare.

Fortunately, you were the only one left in your area since pretty much everyone else scrambled out of the office as soon as work hours were over. It was a Friday after all.

You sighed in relief and quickly scrolled down to see the message beneath the photo of Bucky’s dick.

Need you in my office in ten.

P.S. Bring the report I asked from you the other day.

Best,

Bucky Barnes

Who sends an unsolicited dick pic through e-mail followed by a work reminder? And the signature? It was the cherry on top. Bucky Barnes was something else. Sweet jesus, you really couldn’t believe this man.

Grabbing your report, you marched your way to the elevator and headed up to Bucky’s office. Seeing that his floor was empty, you didn’t even bother knocking on his door and simply barged in.

“I can’t belie— what the fuck?” You called out when you were welcomed with the sight of Bucky leaning back on his chair, his cock out for the world to see as he gently stroked it.

“Need your pretty mouth around my cock, baby.” Bucky cooed with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed out a humorless laugh and shook your head, “I’m not sucking your cock, Bucky.” You refused and walked over to his table, slamming your report on top of it before walking away, but not before stealing another look at his majestic cock.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asked but he was smirking with amusement. He was giving you that look again but you were having none of it tonight.

You stood in front of his desk, keeping a safe distance away from him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scowled at Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes fall down to his cock again. Which by the way, he continued to stroke.

“For someone as smart as you, I can’t believe you’re so fucking dense.” You said with irritation when Bucky didn’t seem to understand why you were agitated.

He licked his lips, bucking up his hips when he squeezed the base of his cock. Bucky let out a delicious grunt as he continued to stroke himself. As much as you were salivating at the sight of Bucky’s cock— tip red and swollen, begging to be sucked— you didn’t want to give in.

“You’re fucking priceless, James.” You said, exasperated and turned around, heading towards the door.

You were about to reach onto the door knob when you heard the sound of a zipper followed by the wheels of Bucky’s chair screeching against the floor before a pair of hands grabbed at your waist. Turning you around, you were met with Bucky’s worried face.

“Shit, you’re really mad. Talk to me?” He pleaded, eyes apologetic as he took a step back, urging you to speak up.

“You might want to take a seat because I’ve got quite a list.” You said.

Bucky obeyed and returned to his chair immediately, sitting upright as he looked at you with doe eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you would’ve melted at the sight of him like that. And the Bucky Barnes? The CEO? Obeying you like a good little boy? Huh, what an interesting concept. You mentally took note of a certain kink that you might enjoy. But for now, you were mad at him and you were going to make him understand why.

“Number one, I don’t particularly enjoy it when you tease me in front of everyone else. We talked about staying professional when there’s work involved and what you did during the mancom was definitely not professional.” You told him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back not when your ass looked so fuckin’ tight in that skirt of yours. Can you blame me?” Bucky almost whined.

“Keep it in your pants, Barnes. I’m not yet done.” You reminded him and went over your second point.

“Number two, we almost got caught to the point of the HR deciding to hold a seminar on workplace ethics! Do you know how awkward it would be for me to sit there and listen to scenarios about office misconduct? Most of which we’ve probably done. I’d sweat like a whore in church!” You hissed.

Which scenarios could that be? Fucking inside the janitor’s supply closet? Check. Doing the nasty in one of the bathroom cubicles? Check that twice. Giving a blowjob beside the fax machine during lunch break? Triple check that shit.

“And oh, you sent me a dick pic using your work e-mail! You do know that the IT can access our computers right? Almost gave me a heart attack when it flashed on my monitor.” You asked in a huff.

Bucky snickered, “Are you forgetting that I’m the CEO? Baby, I can easily clean up our mess.” He reassured and stood up, approaching you.

You shook your head, “That’s exactly the point, Bucky. You are the CEO and I’m an employee. You may not understand it but I’m scared. If we get caught, it’s over for me. Whether you have it cleaned up or not, I’d still be the one at risk here. You’ll never be in the same position as I am. People won’t call you names if we get caught. No matter what happens, I’d always get the short end of the stick.”

You didn’t mean to be all serious, talking about the possible misogynistic outcome of your relationship with Bucky. As much as you enjoyed it, it still scared the living daylights out of you. Some were already spreading rumors about your promotion, getting caught would only add fuel to the fire.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to understand where you were coming from.” He genuinely apologized.

“If it scares you that much, then let’s make it official.”

You deadpanned at him, “Make what official, Bucky?” You asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Bucky shrugged and motioned his hand between the both of you, “This...us.” He simply said.

You scoffed, “Tell the entire office that we’re fucking every chance we get? Are you out of your mind?”

Bucky ran a hand through his cropped hair, “Not like that. Look, we’ve been at it for what? Two? Three months now? We might as well make this into an official relationship.”

You blushed at Bucky’s suggestion. Sure, you practically jumped at the opportunity to fuck your boss when he asked you. But were you an easy bitch in general? Of course not, even with how thirsty you were for him, you still had a little bit of appreciation for the old-fashioned ways.

Pushing Bucky’s chest away, you shook your head at him. “That’s now how relationships work, Bucky. You can’t fuck your way into my heart.”

Bucky laughed and bit his lip, “Fine. Then I’ll do it properly.” He said so easily you were starting to wonder whether he was fucking with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, “I don’t believe you.” You said.

“You will, baby. I’ll make sure of that. We’ll do it old-school.” He said, caressing your cheek.

You were caught off guard but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Bucky had been an amazing lover and in the past months you’ve fucked, he treated you with respect and took good care of you. He brought you dinner, drove you home and texted you good night. Sometimes he’d text you during the weekends too.

“Old-school it is then.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal but oh, it was a big deal.

Bucky nodded with a grin, “Okay. But...” he trailed, his smile turning upside down in deep thought.

“Does that mean we’d stop fucking each other for the mean time?” He asked.

You snickered, “I said you can’t fuck your way into my heart, not my pussy. So sit down and let me suck your cock.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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[crescairis]

hi, i genuinely don't understand how a lesbian person can be attracted to men? like i really don't get "pan lesbian"/"bi lesbian"/etc... im an AFAB, transmasc NB lesbian myself but i am, for all intents and purposes, exclusively attracted to women.

i thought the term "lesbian" meant "any non-man exclusively attracted to women/fem-aligned people"

please explain? this is not hate or anything, this is a genuine question!

hi there! thanks for your good faith questions! :] this is gonna be a long one, so buckle up

the simple answer is that queer identity is never as simple as A + B = C. people can be multigender, genderfluid, genderqueer, Literally Just Butch, etc... it puts a wrench in very simple descriptions like that. there's gotta be some wiggle room for labels to work—and even then, it's entirely against the idea of queer liberation to let anyone but yourself define your connection to a label. as the saying goes, "not gay as in happy, but queer as in fuck you". (not directed at you, ofc :) /lh)

plus, the "non-men" definition kinda...inherently misgenders people who aren't men but aren't lesbians either. i know people who aren't men and would frankly bite anyone who tried to call them a lesbian for the sole sake of them liking women. a label based on exclusion is always going to run into road bumps like that.

but, if you want a more historical answer...

basically, the definition of lesbian has changed a lot over time. for a while in the 20th century, lesbian basically just meant "woman attracted to women", or even just "women who sleeps with women", regardless of how they felt about men.

the idea of lesbianism inherently not including men only really came around with the advent of lesbian separatism in the 1970s:

"In essence, lesbian feminists tried to untie lesbianism from sex so heterosexual feminists were more comfortable. ... Lesbian feminists responded by distancing themselves from stereotypes of “masculine roles,” maleness, and patriarchy. One way they were able to do so was by disentangling lesbian sexuality from heterosexuality and re-conceptualizing heterosexual sex as consorting with “the enemy”. ... They were then able to draw a distinction between lesbian sex and heterosexual sex, claiming that lesbian sex was “pure as snow” since it did not involve men." —Yamissette Westerband, "Lesbians in the Twentieth Century, 1900-1999"

this was coupled together with political lesbianism, and putting this all together, you got a doctrine that followed as such:

lesbianism was a conscious, feminist, and correct choice. (political lesbianism)

any relations with men were considered traitorship towards women and compliance with the patriarchy. (lesbian separatism)

this meant that bisexual women were considered traitors to their sisters. (biphobia babey!!)

this, at its core, was the belief of radical feminists—and it certainly wasn't something that was met with full agreement. while there were many lesbians who scorned any physicality with men, there were just as many lesbians who refused the idea that to be a lesbian, one must completely remove men from their lives.

there are accounts of bisexual women who saw their lesbian identity as a political stance alongside their bisexuality, or even the other way around. [there's a few here!] the phrase "lesbian-identified bisexual" comes up a lot in the literature spanning from the 1970s-1990s.

here's a couple select quotes from the page i linked:

"[Betty Aubut]: ... I never used to identify as lesbian out of respect for women who made the lifelong choice never to sleep with men, but then I realized that was a lot of bullshit. Calling yourself lesbian does not necessarily mean you have made that lifelong decision. Now I mostly identify as a lesbian–so I call myself a bisexual lesbian." —Robyn Ochs, “Bi of the Month: Betty Aubut,” Bi Women Vol. 5, No. 2, April-May, 1987]

"10 years ago when I left my husband and full-time role of motherhood, it didn’t make me less conscious of what being a mother means. In fact, it gave me a deeper understanding. I am still a mother. That experience cannot be taken away from me. In much the same way, my lesbian awareness isn’t lost now that I claim my bisexuality. When I realized my woman-loving-woman feelings, and came out as a lesbian, I had no heterosexual privilege; yet there were important males in my life, including a son. I am bisexual because it’s real for me, not in order to acquire or flaunt the privilege that is inherent in being with men. My political consciousness is lesbian but my lifestyle is bisexual. If I keep myself quiet for another’s sense of pride and liberation, it is at the cost of my own which isn’t healthy–emotionally, politically or medically. Not only is it unhealthy, it’s ineffective." —Lani Kaahumanu, “Bisexuality & Discrimination,” BBWN Vol. 3, No. 6, Dec 1985-Jan 1986; Reprinted from the 1985 Gay Pride March magazine, San Francisco

regardless of what anyone thought, this was still an opinion that stretched forward into the modern day, though it feels that a lot of exclusionists have all but forgotten it was the belief of radical feminists—or even accepted it, becoming modern radfems all on their own.

there's actually a huge radfem population on tumblr, and has been since tumblr's inception—and that's a big part of why this belief system was able to push its way into the wider queer community. with such a lack of queer elders coming out of the AIDs crisis, queer teens on the web didn't really have very many ways to learn about queer history—especially with bigoted parents around, leaning over their shoulders.

thus, radfems were given a perfect opportunity to deliver their verdict, and these queer teens just...didn't know better. i'd go so far as to say that i've seen radfems and exclusionists alike scorn their queer predecessors, claiming that, in nicer words, "being older doesn't mean you're right". it sucks a lot.

in general, a lot of the hatred comes down to the views of radical feminists. that men and masculinity are inherently evil, that to have relationships with men is a betrayal to one's sisters...when really, there's a lot of men who don't benefit from the patriarchy at all. if the patriarchy were some magical force that protected all men, we wouldn't get cishet men being called f or t slurs for showing emotion. men wouldn't be constantly doubted every time they admitted that they'd faced abuse from women.

instead, the patriarchy only rewards complete compliance and gender essentialism. to be viewed as a good man under the patriarchy, there can't be a whiff of femininity on you. likewise, to be a good woman, you can't be masculine in the slightest. (this is a big part of why things such as stay at home husbands and working wives are seen as such a "horrific" phenomenon. it's also the basis of—you guessed it—homophobia!)

it doesn't just tie into gender; in fact, it's very much tied to white supremacy as well. to quote gerald torres, in his book "Understanding Patriarchy As an Expression of Whiteness: Insights from the Chicana Movement" (which i highly suggest you read, as i can only say so much on the subject, being white myself):

"Whiteness has a gender. The history of American racial thought held that to be white was to possess certain superior characteristics that on closer inspection turned out to be as gendered as they were racial. Though the content of the construction of race and gender changed over time, the gendered nature of whiteness, and of race in general, remained constant. Whether attempting to claim white privilege for themselves or positioning themselves in opposition to that privilege, America’s racial and ethnic minorities have historically defined and redefined themselves in relation to the core characteristics of whiteness. To be white was to be civilized, rational, moral and in command of one’s emotions. Of course, these are also gendered characteristics. The absence of these characteristics was stereotyped as definitive of lesser races, and was sometimes even characterized as such by the occupants of those classes."

to double back to radical feminism, this actually also ties into a lot of queer issues that people feel much less vicious about; transmascs are seen as traitors by radfems as well, abandoning their womanhood to join "the side of the oppressors", or even that, by being men, they automatically have all of the same privileges that cishet men do, completely ignoring the fact that a LOT of transmascs don't ever get to access the male privilege that radfems believe they have by nature of being men. (gnc transmascs, those who don't or can't pass, etc)

the same goes for the trend of mlm positivity posts being hijacked by women who feel the need to complain about how "ugly" and "gross" men are, or that people with male partners should "dump them and get a girlfriend instead".

this lateral attack on queer people all comes down to the idea that "it's okay because men are the ultimate oppressors", yet another idea that both benefits radfems by implying that, because they're women, they're the ultimate oppressed party, while also ignoring the fact that, by nature of many of them being white, or cis, or dyadic, or allo, they still have power over those who are people of color, or trans, or intersex, or aspec.

all in all, this isn't to say that you have to like men as a lesbian. you don't! you yourself can define your lesbianism as completely absent of men, and no one can stop you from doing that. in fact, i would defend your right to do that just as much as i defend bi lesbians.

the problem is when people try to define everyone's lesbianism by their own personal definition, and/or they decide that to like men as a lesbian (or at all) is some irrevocable sin. it's ahistorical, it enforces gold star lesbianism, which is already a lesbophobic concept, and it completely contradicts the idea of queer liberation and autonomy.

and to any radfems and exclus who decide they're gonna send me some mean messages after reading this: hi <3 anon is off. show me your pretty urls so i can block you.

[dancingamongstdust]

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting Part 2

Hoodie

The area where you lived had a ton of back alleyways that acted as shortcuts in a pinch. They were generally safe but you often got an uncomfortable feeling when using them so you preferred to take the busier roads if you could.

Unfortunately, when you had gone to leave work that day, you had spotted the customer who had been harassing you the entire day. It wasn’t anything creepy but it was over-the-top persistent and you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. You slipped out the backdoor as a result. At least you’d get home sooner.

For the most part, you didn’t encounter anything too suspicious and the light from the streets illuminated where you were going.

The large bins outside the grocer’s home indicated that you were getting close. You sped up and rubbed your eyes blearily.

Ahead of you, a dog was barking from inside one of the buildings. It was a pretty noisy animal and you began peering around to see what the source of its agitation was. Ironically, you ended up bumping directly into him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, rubbing your shoulder.

The guy was tall, wearing dark clothing and standing right in the shadows. You could have probably noticed him if you were a little more awake.

He turned and your breath caught.

His face was obscured by a dark mask with red features stitched onto it. His hoodie which originally seemed dark was now illuminated into a soft yellow or orange, stained with a dark substance.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. His voice crackled out, clearly coming through a voice changer of some kind.

“I – I was just taking a shortcut home. I live near here so I thought… I really didn’t mean to bump into you. I’m super tired.”

“Tired or not, you shouldn’t have seen me,” the guy said. “Do you have a phone or a camera?”

Slowly, you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone. “I don’t have any cash in my wallet –“

“I don’t want your money!” he snapped. “I’m not some petty thief, believe me, I have better things to do with me time. Unlock this.”

You did so and he went through it with a gloved hand. He didn’t have a weapon but something in your gut warned you to just go along with it. Nobody covered up everything, including their voice, when they were up to something good. This guy may not be a thief… but the alternative didn’t feel too much better.

He shoved your phone back at you. “Get out of here and don’t breathe a word of this to anybody. Consider yourself lucky that I’m in a good mood today.”

You swallowed nervously. “Thank you?”

“I’m serious,” he warned. “I can let you go just because you seem pathetic enough to not take this to the police but unless you want to catch a bullet in your back, you’ll keep quiet. My boss doesn’t like people getting involved with this nonsense.”

“A bullet?”

He didn’t answer and your heart thundered in your chest. Part of you wondered if he was going to kill you while you ran away but his attention seemed to have moved away from you. You hurried away, holding your breath the entire time. Every time you glanced over your shoulder, the guy remained unmoving.

When you reached your home, you locked the door tightly and slumped against it in exhaustion.

Homicidal Liu

The sunset was beautiful over the graveyard – the only beauty to an otherwise morbid place.

You stared at the purples and oranges dancing across the sky. The wreath pricked at your hands after a while and you stared down at it. Why did you still bother with bringing flowers? Hadn’t it been long enough? Still, you made your way down to the grave and placed them there, not even bothering to read the name on there.

Lately, your graveyard visits had becoming fewer and fewer. Time hadn’t been on your side recently and thus, your precious solitude had to suffer. You relished in the way that nobody really bothered you here.

An orange glow warned you when the streetlights came on. Perhaps you had been there for longer than you thought but this was to be your last visit.

Better to make it count.

Something caught in the wind made you raise your head. A piece of fabric was stuck in the nearby fence, identifiable as a scarf when you ventured closer.

You took it from the fence and looked around for its owner. Nobody was in view… maybe it had been blown off one of the graves? It did seem homemade.

Guessing, you began to place it on a grave when a voice startled you.

“I’m sorry to bother but I think you have my scarf?”

The man was standing far too close for you to have not seen him when you were glancing around but you blamed that on your night vision. He wore dark clothing and seemed awkward just to be speaking to you.

“Thank goodness,” you said. “I was just going to leave it on one of the graves because I didn’t know who it belonged to.”

He thanked you for it, wrapping it around the lower half of his face almost immediately. “That would be a waste,” he said. “Especially to leave it on this one. Thank you for grabbing it.”

A harsh wind blew through the graveyard, carrying with it the smell of an incoming storm. He grabbed his scarf just in time to prevent it from going flying away again.

“Seems like the weather is determined to steal it from you.”

“Far more powerful things have tried.”

You buried yourself further into your jacket and smiled. “I haven’t seen you around before, are you new in town or just coming to visit a new grave?”

“I’m not visiting a grave,” he admitted. “I just thought that this would be the way back to my house… I grew up in this town but only recently moved back and I’m already lost. It’s a little embarrassing if I’m honest.”

“Well, I like to know everybody,” you said. “What’s your name?”

“Su – I mean, Liu,” he said. “Liu. Sorry, I nearly gave you my surname.”

You laughed. “Oh that’s no problem. It’s nice to meet you but I really like your name. Is it Chinese?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He looked around and began walking away. “I really have to go. Thank you for getting my scarf and all that.”

“I’ll see you around,” you said with a wave.

It was only later when you realised how suspicious that entire interaction was. You had never seen Liu before in your life and he was just hanging around in the graveyard? He hadn’t seemed too creepy at least. Maybe you would see more of him in the coming days.

Jane the Killer

It wasn’t that you were unobservant or inattentive toward girls but nobody had really caught your eye until Jane.

She was stunning in a way that few people could ever match with dark hair that tumbled past her hips and soulful eyes. Her walk was always confident, her smile always perfect, and her attention always desirable. Your main regret about life was that you didn’t speak to her sooner – especially when you thought back on what happened not too long after your first meeting.

You organised with your friends to somehow bump into her but instead, you wound up getting treated for a pretty painful bruised hip. Your second plan didn’t work out either and your third never even left the drawing board.

“Just go up to her and say hi. Tell her that she’s beautiful,” your friend encouraged. “She’ll say thanks and then you’ll be able to talk to her.”

“That’s so boring though,” you said. “It’s not like something out of a romance novel.”

Your friend groaned and stood up. “Well, I’m going home. We have like three months left of high school and I’m not going to spend that time obsessing over how to speak to a girl. She’s literally a regular person.”

They were right and you knew that. No matter how you tried to set up a sweeping romance, it probably wouldn’t work out.

So you tried.

And you tried.

Two weeks later, you were about to give up on mimicking a romance novel and it appeared that your friend was thinking the same thing. She grabbed your arm and began to drag you somewhere, muttering about changing the topic. You had a vague idea of where you were going but you didn’t fight too much.

“What if she’s still dating that Woods boy?” you asked. “The older one.”

“They broke up after literally a month of dating. I don’t blame her – those Woods boys are pretty enough but the older one has something seriously wrong with him. And the younger one is always talking to himself…”

“I really don’t care about the Woods’,” you commented.

“No, you care about Jane who is honestly quite weird as well,” they said. “But that is going to be your problem and not mine.”

They dragged you directly up to her group. It wasn’t large – despite Jane’s beauty, she wasn’t incredibly popular due to her associations. Your friend wasn’t the only one who was a little scared of the Woods boys and Jane had hung out with them for quite a while.

“Hey,” your friend said before even letting you go. “You have no idea who we are but my friend here has a massive crush on you. Could you please just say hi so they can get it out of their system?”

You were sure that it was unhealthy to be as red as you were. It felt like your heart was about to leap from your chest.

Jane laughed, a soft and gentle sound. “I’m not really interested in a relationship,” she hummed. “But thank you. That’s very flattering.”

Somehow, your heart sped up still and you awkwardly rubbed your arm. “No problem?”

“Why don’t you join us for a little bit?” Jane offered. “Just because I don’t want to date anybody doesn’t mean that we can’t become friends. You look like my kind of person.”

You stumbled over your words but somehow, your conversation managed to go extremely well. Jane was brilliant in every possible way and you quickly grew attached to seeing her every day. That was why you mourned so greatly when she died.

Jason the Toymaker

The sun was so warm against your skin. You could stay there forever, stretched out on the grass and basking in the sunlight.

“It’s done,” your friend’s voice broke through your daydreaming

You opened your eyes and rolled over to see exactly what they had been working on for the entire trip. After realising the first few times that you weren’t going to get a reaction, you had decided to wait for them to finish working before you tried to have a conversation.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said. “That’s amazing.”

The hyper-realistic man was sketched to perfection with a top hat, a fur coat, and a small mouse sitting on his left shoulder. It felt like his eyes could piece into your soul.

“Who is that?” you asked them.

They stared blankly at the image and shook their head. “I don’t know,” they said. “He’s been in my dreams for so long. I think it has something to do with my amnesia. Maybe I knew him once before.”

“He’s a little intimidating,” you said. “I could imagine him to be a ringleader in a circus that’s like a secret cult. Maybe he’s why you lost your memory.”

“Maybe…” they said, tapping the picture. They suddenly shoved it into your chest and stood up. “You keep that. I don’t want it anywhere near me. I need to go talk to my parents.”

You watched them race out of the park in confusion. The man in the picture stared up at you with haunting eyes.

Folding it in half so it didn’t freak you out, you stood and dusted off your clothing. Maybe it would be best if you headed home. It was getting late either way.

Later on, you’d call your friend and check up on them.

About 10 minutes away from your house, the feeling of being watched snuck up on you. It hung heavily around your shoulders like a cloak. You glanced around but saw nobody.

Still, you didn’t feel comfortable leading whoever was following you back to your house. You made a point of walking amongst large crowds and headed for the police station.

They were watching you the whole way.

You sped up. A few people bumped into you and you apologised as best as you could. Your grip on the picture was getting tighter enough for you to tear it. The later it got, the fewer people were on the streets and so you were pretty much alone when you bumped into him.

It took you a few seconds to recognise the man from the drawing.

If you thought his drawn eyes were captivating, they had nothing on his real ones which glowed with an almost ethereal light.

“You’re him,” you breathed.

He stared at you, smile falling from his face in confusion. “Who?”

You shakily held out the drawing and he yanked it from your hands. “My friend drew that,” you explained. “They said that its of somebody from their past. They have amnesia you see.”

He was unmoving as he studied the picture. You began feeling a little uncomfortable and then his gaze snapped to you. “Is that so?” he asked.

You nodded and took a small step away from him. “Maybe you should go and talk to them? See –“ you swallowed nervously. “See if you can help them remember?”

“No need,” he said, dropping the paper on the ground. “Who are you?”

Your name came out as little more than a soft whisper. Something about the entire scenario made you uneasy. His appearance was too unnatural.

A gust of wind came by, picking up the drawing and whipping it away. You watched it go and when you looked back down, his eyes were locked on you.

“Such a pity,” he said. “You would have been the perfect doll.”

Wearily, you took a step backwards. His words made your stomach churn uneasily. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled. It was kind and warm but it only made you more nervous. His eyes looked like they had almost changed colour; shifted a shade darker than previously. “Thinking aloud my dear,” he said.

“About dolls?” you asked.

He tilted his head a little towards you. “I’m going to have to bid you goodbye. It seems I have other matters to attend to.” He brushed past you, stopping briefly when directly next to you. “Consider yourself lucky.”

He was gone before you could even spin around to face him.

Jeff the Killer

Pausing the song, you removed your earphones as quietly as possible and placed them down on your desk. According to the blinking numbers on your phone screen, it was nearing 2 AM. Far too late for anybody to make an excess of noise.

You listened closely. The music had been too loud for you to hear anything and you almost brushed the strange noise off as your sleep-deprived imagination. Until something squeaked like shoe soles on tiles.

In retrospect, you should have immediately called 911 but you didn’t want to sound a false alarm.

The light switch was thankfully directly outside your room. The hall illuminated most of the house when they were on and it steeled your nerves. Your roommate’s door was open, allowing you to confirm their sleeping state, curled up in their bed amongst the piles of mess. They had had to move to the spare room due to a faulty window earlier in the day and had clearly given up sorting items.

You glanced into the apartment’s other rooms before heading to the kitchen. There was nothing odd. The scuttling when you entered the kitchen just suggested that your neighbour’s rat infestation may be migrating.

Making a mental note to call the exterminator, you turned to switch off the kitchen light.

Something slammed into you, forcing your back to collide with a wall. A hand covered your mouth and the overwhelming scent of blood and decay invaded your nose. Something cold and sharp pressed against your neck.

“Shut up and stay still,” the man snarled at you. “I don’t think anybody will appreciate you getting blood in the kitchen.”

Your heart leapt into your throat and your body stilled. The man in front of you was terrifying. His skin pale and mutilated. Eyes far too wide for a normal person and dancing with an insanity that sent chills down your spine.

And his mouth… a bloody smile carved across his face, stretching halfway to his ears.

He studied your face carefully and his expression twisted. “You’re not the right one,” he snapped. The knife moved away from your neck, so he could point with it. “I had this all planned and yet when I came into that room, I found it empty. Why?”

Even if he hadn’t been holding your mouth shut, you doubted you would have been able to formulate an answer. The pounding heartbeat in your ears was nearly blocking out his voice.

He lightly tapped your cheek with his knife. “Not that it matters,” he said. “I’ll just have to adapt my original plan. You’re not the right target but I’m a huge fan of collateral damage.”

A small whimper escaped you and tears welled at your eyes. You didn’t want to die.

“Don’t blubber!” he ordered. “View it as a good thing. You’ll be all over the news. Another victim of Jeff the Killer. Hell, you might even be added to a Wikipedia page or something.”

You could recall that name from the news. Often followed by a lengthy list of deaths and the police chief begging for any information about the murderer.

Jeff stared at you for a long minute before he pressed the knife’s blade to your throat and moved his hand away from your mouth. “Scream and I will remove your vocal cords,” he threatened. “Who are you?”

It took several deep breaths and a flicker of impatience in his expression to give you the ability to talk again. You stammered out your full name as quickly as you possibly could.

He rolled his eyes and tilted the knife so it scratched your skin. A sticky and warm substance ran down your throat in small droplets. “Pathetic.”

“Sorry,” you whispered on instinct. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You ruined my earlier plans to take out my original target by interrupting me before I could find them. Why shouldn’t I settle for you instead?”

You didn’t have an answer.

He took the blade away from your throat. “If you call the police and report what happened here tonight, I will slice you into little pieces.”

It was almost twenty minutes after he left before you regained any movement in your body. You slumped into a heap on the kitchen floor and started sobbing.

Kagekao

Things had been going missing around your house.

Initially, you had thought it was just due to you forgetting where you’d plopped things because it was simple things. Drinks that vanished, keys turning up on the opposite side of the house, and random spills that you didn’t remember making.

But then it started getting weirder still.

You would make food and pack it away, knowing that you would eat it later, and find it gone. Picture frames disappeared, never to be seen again. Your rug half-unraveled during the night and you found it in a pile the next morning. A candle in your bathroom fell over and, somehow, the curtains on the other side of the house had caught alight.

It was suspicious, to say the very least. You began to think that you had some kind of intruder – once, the news reported that a woman found a homeless man living in her attic and eating her food when she wasn’t looking.

So you went out and bought cameras, setting them up throughout your house.

For two weeks, they caught nothing until one of them ended up breaking. You went to get it repaired and the company managed to recover what it had last seen. Which was nothing on your first glance.

But you were soon to realise, that was only because you had been looking at the floor.

While you were rewatching when you got home, you noticed something. The window was sitting wide open and the camera’s angle only allowed you to see half of it. Right toward the end of the feed, a gloved hand appeared on the side of the window and a slight shadow indicated something climbing through.

So you got reinforced windows and made sure that none were open unless you were in the room.

Things still continued happening.

You were beginning to get really annoyed by this. It was tempting to go to the police and let them just handle it but that was going to be a lot of effort that you really didn’t care for. You didn’t feel like you were in much danger. Nothing had happened in your bedroom.

Your next plan was to set up a trap of some kind. With a hidden camera set up, you made extra food and left it on the counter to see if something happened.

The next day, you watched as a plastic toy of some kind was thrown directly into the plate from somewhere off-camera, breaking it and leaving an absolute mess everywhere.

Still not considering it to be anything dangerous, you just cleaned up the mess and loudly cursed out anybody who was listening. You stalked the house after that, searching every nook and cranny with a bat in hand. The final place was the closet in your bedroom and you peered in, expecting nothing.

When you turned around though, you spotted something sitting in the corner of the room.

It was humanoid with arms twisted into awkward positions and a mask on its face. Half the mask was black and the other white, both sides bearing an unnaturally smiling expression. The creature cackled when you saw it and scuttled out of the door, stuck to the roof the entire time.

A second passed.

Then another.

You pinched your arm hard and waited to wake up. Surely there was no way… I mean, why would… humans didn’t generally crawl along the ceiling? Well, you were quite sure they never did that. You must have been imagining it.

A second laugh corrected you on that.

You swallowed thickly, walked over to your door as calmly as possible and locked it. Then you took out your phone and finally called the police.

Kate the Chaser

The day when Kate was sent away remained very clear in your mind. It was a moment that brought extremely change to your life, mixing up your friend group and sending you in a different direction.

The years has passed and you had never gotten over your best friend. They said that she had lost her mind and you knew it was true. All those games investigating the woods and ghost hunting must have put a toll on her mind. Sometimes, you blamed yourself for all the pranks and you knew that Lauren had similar doubts.

And now she was back.

Lauren and you hadn’t remained close, the entire situation feeling too real with one another. Your greeting was stilted but neither of you wanted to be the first to approach the house.

“Do you think that she remembers us?” Lauren asked.

“If she didn’t then her mom wouldn’t have invited us over,” you said.

You stood in complete silence, staring up at the house. Would you even recognise Kate? The last time that you had seen her was when you were both young children and her face remained at that age in your memories.

Eventually, you gained your confidence before Lauren and you walked over, knocking on the door before anxiety could find you.

Kate answered the door and you forgot why you had ever been nervous.

Time had slimmed her face and shortened her hair. Her eyes were still a gentle brown and the cockiness had faded from her smile, but it was recognisable from your nostalgia. It made you feel warm and known – an aura that you had missed without even realising it.

“Hi,” you greeted.

Kate pulled you into a tight hug and you returned it, clutching at her tightly as though she could slip through your fingers. It really had been too long and when you moved away, she held onto Lauren with the same enthusiasm.

“How have you been?” she asked. “You have to tell me everything.”

The three of you spent the rest of the afternoon having tea and just talking about the world at large. Kate didn’t have many stories from the hospital – she claimed it was because the place had been extremely boring and neither of you pushed to find out more about it. Honestly, it was more comfortable to act as though she had simply moved away.

Lauren had to leave first and you were going to go with her but Kate had looked so down that you remained just a little longer. That was when things got weird.

“I’ve missed music a lot,” Kate sighed.

“Did they not allow you to listen to music?”

She grimaced. “No, they did but often I couldn’t hear it over the static. Its mostly gone away now but it came back last night… it fills my brain and all that I can think of is a way to make the pain stop.”

The colour drained from your face as you stared at her. You didn’t know much about what happened to her but you had thought she would be okay now.

Realising it, Kate hurried to reassure you, “I really have recovered,” she said. “My hallucinations have faded and my medication keeps my emotions in check. You really don’t have to be scared of me.”

You stared down at your cup awkwardly. “I’m not scared of you,” you reassured her. “You’ve never done anything to me.”

She nodded. “It will be alright, you’ll see. I’m ready to get back to a normal life with my friends and not have to worry about that ghost stuff ever again.”

Laughing Jack

It was on your leg…

The glare you fixed the small child with could wilt plants. It didn’t care though and merely clutched at your clothing with a happy smile. “Come play with me?” it asked. “I can introduce you to all my friends!”

“How old is she again?” you grumbled at your friend.

Your friend laughed and ruffled their cousin’s hair. “I had an imaginary friend when I was 10. She’s only 6, she’s still at the stage where they’re a big deal.”

The child was oblivious to your conversation and reached out her arms. “Come on. The parents are being boring. I have candy that my friend gave me. We can share it.”

“I agreed to come along to your family get together to keep you company,” you said to your friend. “You know I don’t like children. Babysitting really isn’t my forte.”

All you received for your complaining was laughter.

By the time you had the 4th teddy bear had been introduced, you were done. Why did one kid have so many toys?

“Now which one of your friends gives you candy?” your friend asked. “Because if it’s from Princess, I don’t think it’s edible. What if she secretly puts glitter in it?”

Expected to play along, you sighed. “Unless it’s glitter from rainbows because then it’s got magic powers and allows you to fly.”

The child liked your thumb-sucked statement because she jumped up in excitement. “I don’t get it from Princess. Jack gives it to me! But if Princess can make me fly, I want to have that kind of candy instead!”

“Which one’s Jack again?” you asked, eyeing the line of toys.

“He’s not here right now,” the child said, biting her inner cheek. She turned in a circle. “Sometimes he hides in the cupboard though!” She ran over to her cupboard and pulled the doors open. “I don’t think – OW!”

She reeled backwards, clutching her cheek. Both you and your friend immediately jumped up and ran over to her. A tiny slice mark ran across the side of her face. It wasn’t anything serious, but she was sobbing as though it would kill her. You presumed a small edge on one of the boxes in the cupboard had been the cause.

“Do you want me to take you to mom, so she can kiss it better?” your friend asked. “Your new best friend can wait here and make sure all your toys are safe.”

The child nodded, and she got led out of the room. You rolled your eyes at the sensitivity and reached into the cupboard to push the box out of the way. A clawed hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed your wrist tightly.

Before you could even shout, it lifted you off the ground by your arm and a second hand had wrapped around your mouth.

The monster’s body appeared out of the closet.

It was a clown. Easily 7ft tall and comprised of monochrome colours with a sharp, pointed nose and long, greasy hair. Its black lips spread into a smile, revealing pointed teeth and a sickeningly sweet breath.

You writhed against its grip, trying to scream or do anything but it was insanely strong, and it just laughed at your efforts.

“How mean,” it purred, leaning in close to your face. “You ask who I am and then, when I appear to you, you insult my appearance. Awful etiquette. Your parents should be concerned about how rude you are to strangers.”

You strained your memory to think about what you had been doing before it grabbed you but the adrenaline was clouding your mind. What had you asked? You struggled more with the lack of memories.

The clown shook its head. “I haven’t revealed myself to somebody so old in a long time. You should be flattered but instead you choose to try and kick me. This is why I don’t do this. Children are far more polite.”

He released you suddenly and you landed hard on the ground. It winked and disappeared, right as your friend and her cousin returned.

“You met Jack!” the child shouted excitedly, pointing to the candy lying next to you.

You shoved it away from you as quickly as possible.

[cafecourage]

The moment they realized they loved you. (Isekai Au Edition) Part 1

Because this was my first time doing this I went a little crazy. If you want more information on this AU here is the Link!

Time:

- It had been welcomed with open arms.

- You two are literally the opposite but also very similar. Time is calm and stoic. You are chaotic and loud. But both of you are very cryptic.

- You’re the only person in the kingdom of hyrule currently that remembers what he had gone through. He feels like he can trust you with anything.

- It’s started with a slip up by wind and just spiraled out of control.

___________________________________

Time was discussing the groups inventory with Twilight and Wild when it happens. A small slip of the tongue followed by a laughter that could be mistaken as a fairy chime. He looked over to see your bright smile shining through under your hood. In front of you was the target of your amusement, the youngest link.

“That’s so cute!” You exclaimed to the horror of Wind, who was red in embarrassment. “Wait who’s dad?”

“Can we let this go?” The teen was covering his face now.

“It’s Time.” Four said without looking up from his book. Utter chaos broke loose in camp with just a few words. A chorus of any forms of agreement was making you laugh even harder. Time though covering up his true feelings about the situation was very lost. While yes, he acknowledged that he had slowly became the father figure of the group. That title didn’t involve you.

Unless…

“Time! I didn’t know we were married!” You bounced over to their leader looking at him with a playful smirk.

A life with you flashes in his head.

There could be a small cottage farm surrounded by the forest that reminding him of his old family and home. You could take care of the garden while he could take care the animals. In a few years the two of you might just have a few kids running around. Playing with each other without a care in the world. No more fighting. No more traveling. Just a simple lifestyle with a tight knit family. It looked peaceful. Everything he would want.

“You should have told me.” He was brought back to the present by your face looking up at him expectedly.

“I thought you knew.” He said super seriously. “We’ve got to raise nine children together already.”

“Hey! I raised you during the war old man!” Warriors called out from across camp.

“You’re the uncle then!” (Y/n) countered “I already say Twilight is our first born!” You declared pointing to Time’s flustered descendent. The rest of the conversation was tuned out as he went back to his thoughts once more.

Time lived longer than most of the heroes here by age 11. Yet not once did he stop to think about a future and family. He was so busy trying to keep out of hero work that it just slipped. Yet see you with the other heroes, knowing now that you were just as much a parental figure to the others as him. It made his softer just thinking about it and he welcomed that warm fuzzy feeling with open arms.

Reaching out he brush’s hair out of your face to kiss your temple. “I’ll propose to you properly later.” He said in a teasing tone to suggest he was only joking to hide the truth in that statement. Seeing your entire face flush red was really worth it.

“Gross Mom and Dad are flirting!”

___________________________________

- He’ll never once tell you straight if he liked you or was just playing along with the ongoing joke that the chain has.

- This time instead of you observing him. He wants to see how far he can go until confessing.

- It drives you crazy. Since you can’t get a read on him. You attempt to flirt back in retaliation. However, it always ends with you being the most flustered.

- Who knew the Old Man had it in him?

Twilight:

- It became a melancholic hopeless feeling that spiral out of control.

- He already had his heartbroken by someone before and he knows he shouldn’t get attached to you too.

- Yet he can’t stop himself from wanting to be near you. He heard you so clearly before.

- Now that he can actually speak to you directly, he wants to get to know his other travel companion more.

___________________________________

Being alone in the forest with you wasn’t what Twilight planned when dropped in a different Hyrule but here you two where. You offered to go on patrol with him when the others were setting up camp claiming it was too see if you could identify the era. It didn’t matter since Twilight enjoyed your company no matter what. The lack of conversation between the two of you didn’t bother him. If anything, it felt the most natural. Only a few words were needed for the two of you to understand each other. “Do you mind if I use my wolf form?” Twilight asked fiddling with the chain that attached to the shadow crystal around his neck.

You paused to think about it. “I mean you can. But be aware I will baby talk you.”

This got Twilight to stop walking. Maybe he lied. He doesn’t need a few words to understand your thought process. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t control myself around cute creatures.” You simply stated like it was the most obvious thing.

Instead, Twilight was burning up. You thought his wolf form was cute? Of all things you used that word? What did you think of human Twilight if you thought like that? Did he want to even know? He was searching for any way to take this conversation but it all lead to dead ends. “Cute?” Was all he could ask. His voice pitching up as he got flustered.

“Yeah?” You looked at him just as confused as he was. “Wolves are just like big dogs and to be honest you look more like a giant dog then a wolf.” Your explanation did not help at all with his situation. “If it makes you feel better you’re very handsome as a Hylian and also built like an go-“

Twilights brain was malfunctioning he couldn’t hear any more of what you had to say about him. He grabbed on to the shadow crystal, turning into his wolf form he ran. He didn’t hear you call out his name in surprise.

Hylia, what was wrong with him? You were just a friend. A very blunt yet gentle friend. Nothing more. Nothing less. Why was his heart racing so much? He had heard you shower him in complements before while on his first adventure. But hearing you say it to his face with no shame whatsoever was a different story.

Twilight knew what these feelings were and deep down he really wanted to act on them. But was it ok? Was his heart finally healing from his last love? Twilight was already aware this time that you had to leave at some point. He didn’t need to act on them despite wanting to. He could just be your friend and continue the relationship like that.

His heart was already breaking a second time.

Twilight was in love you and it was driving him crazy.

___________________________________

- Like Time, Twilight isn’t going to tell you about his feelings. Instead, he is going to forever pine for you.

- It’s going to be a slow process and you need to be aware that he will get hurt if you’re going to go back home.

- He’ll see you off with a smile, but as soon as your gone he will break.

Warriors:

- It was full of denial and fear.

- He went through the receiving end of someone’s obsessive love.

- And it doesn’t help that you’ve watched over their adventures. He vowed to not get that close to you.

- There was a need to destroy the endearing feeling he sees when you smile at him.

- Yet seeing you with a sad far out look on your face makes him scramble to your side to find out what’s wrong.

___________________________________

It was just the two of you. Weaving throughout the crowds of castle town. You were currently in Four’s Era and in the middle of the Picori festival. The group was long spilt up, leaving Warriors alone with the dimensional traveler. Soon even (Y/n) was walking away from him. He didn’t know why he followed, the argument in his head was telling him that it was so they didn’t get lost. Yet there was a part of him that knew that wasn’t it.

“Where are you going anyway?” He thought to finally ask as you reached a quieter area. “It’s going to be hard to spend time in the festival from here.”

“Yeah, that’s the point.” You were a bit snappy today, “shouldn’t you find someone else to hang out with?” Warriors just shrugged as you slowed your pace down to pause in front of the small river that ran through castle town. The silence now filled with the rushing of water as you sat on the bridge.

Against his better judgement Warriors sat next to you. Finally, he got to talk to you one on one but the normally impulsive and excitable person Warrior’s grew to expect had changed in that moment.

You looked so tired.

“Hey Link?” You finally called out to him “I know I shouldn’t ask you this but…” hesitation was new to your character. “How do I even start?” You rake a hand through your hair. Sweeping a part of your hair out of your eyes. “Was I ever helpful during your Adventure?”

Oh… Oh he really wasn’t the right person for this talk.

You look back you and towards the festival and he followed your gaze. From where they were he could only spot a few of his party members. Wind was with Legend and Hyrule playing some of the stall games. While Four was with his Zelda holding hands as she pulled him further into the crowd. “Last time I saw this festival it ended up destroyed by Vaati.” The wind mage was only brought up a few times by Four. All Warriors really knew was that the villain was supposed to be sealed away by the Four Sword, and that his power was connected by the dark mirror. “I found myself wondering if my presence even mattered.” Your shoulder slumped in defeat as you curled into yourself.

The instant need to comfort shot through Warriors. He wanted to reach out. He fought the urge to hold you. He bites his tongue when he started to think of embellished words to make you feel better.

What was wrong with him?

Warriors had to say something though. “I don’t know about Four or the others.” He didn’t even think about your presence in his adventure too much. If anything, he actively tried not to think about it. Here you were though a person and not a figment of in his imagination. “During the war, your voice and presence is what broke the tension. The moments that could have been my lowest, you were there saying things that I wanted to repeat out loud.” There was a fondness while he was looking back at the memories. From the moment he ran on the battle field foolishly as a trainee soldier. His pride grew upon hearing your praise and surprise when seeing him fight for the first time. To your excitement while meeting his friends from the other Eras. He shared your sentiments about Mask as you cooed over the child as Warriors fought by his side. Then your anger, disgust and pity towards Cia. While on his side, your empathetic nature had you morning during her passing. These where just the tip of the iceberg.

Just having someone voice out mutual thoughts on a situation helps when you can’t do it on your own. You feel crazy thinking the way you do. “With you there it’s like you always have someone by your side cheering you on and supporting you.” He paused to look at you. Conflicting emotions clashing together. You turn to look at him, your eyes only briefly visible through your bangs. Curiosity and guilt were swarming with in them. “I’m not the person to talk to about this.” He finally admitted out loud. “But I would be lying if I said your presence wasn’t important to us.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Was that not what he was supposed to say? Warriors tried to stay calm under your gaze.

You let out a huff of laughter covering your mouth and turning away from him a bit to calm down. “I didn’t think about it like that.” There was a pause where you looked back at the festive before turning back to smiling softly at him. “Thanks Cap.”

The smile that you had on your lips had Warriors stomach do back flips. A blush decorated his face as he turns away. “It’s something that should have been said a while ago.” He manages to say without stuttering.

You were really pretty.

The sound of a picto box followed by winds snickering, was ignored when the thought had just register in his head. He finally realized how far he fell for you.

___________________________________

- one by one his defenses lowered.

- With every smiled sent his way, with every laugh that he earned. He found himself wanting more.

- He slowly opens up, a slow process but it wasn’t as scary as he thought it was going to be.

- A teasing nickname here. A gentle touch there. He realizes he has gone too far.

(Part 2)

[enamouredfae]

♡ Pick a Card ♡

What does the person you have in mind think about you!

This is a short and sweet pick a card where I look to tell you how the person occupying your thoughts thinks about you. These can be things they want to say, but feel they can't; the feelings they have for you, the fears and the longings that have to do with you; perceptions of you, etc. This can be a specific person you know or someone you will meet in the future, it can even be a part of you. You can ask about your future spouse, love of your life, twin flame, soulmate, ex, friend, inner child, past self, etc.

Before picking a card ask and meditate on:

"What does [person] think about me?"

then intuitively pick the pile(s).

Disclaimer: I want to remind you that most of the messages are very open to interpretation, and the first "clear" meaning of the message isn't necessarily the right one for you. For example, "i know nothing about you" could mean that they don't recognize you anymore or that you don't share enough information about yourself, but it could also mean that this person is a stranger to you atm. Pick up on the nuance that feels right to you. If you feel like a card isn't accurate or does not resonate, you are most likely right. Don't take the reading as fact. Trust your intuition, and do tell me in the feedback the parts that feel right and the ones that feel wrong, I'd love to hear different interpretations on messages too!

This reading is for entertainment purposes only.

This is a timeless reading for the collective, therefore it is likely that some messages will not resonate with you. Please only take the messages that do! The messages that do not, are meant for somebody else. Remember that the future is never set in stone and that you possess free will! Love you! ♡

Pile 1 ✧ Leaf

leaving, fall, falling in love, drifting through life, lack of control, being pushed around, recipient, yin, withering away, slowly dying, depressed, walked over, easy-going.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

introvert | same age | taller | whip | book | 11 | 26 | 2 | 8

they could be someone you had an argument with or an argumentative person in general, intelligent, secretive, they may have a higher education and be seen as an expert in their field, there may be a power imbalance, dominant, disciplinary, manipulative, you may have written in your journal about them, there may be a secret involved in this connection, using sexuality as a tool of persuasion, coercion into kink/sexual situations, knowledgeable in sex, secret sexual relationship, you may learn a lot from them, they could be a teacher, sexy, they could be abusive please be careful, you may not know them yet or they could be hidden from you atm, thoughtful, critical.

8 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 26th or the 8th. themes of the 8th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 8th house or Scorpio placements. you may have significant 8th house synastry.

11 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 11th. themes of the 11th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 11th house or Aquarius placements. you may have significant 11th house synastry.

2 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 2nd. themes of the 2nd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 2nd house or Taurus placements. you may have significant 2nd house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i wish you tried harder."

"you've outgrown me."

"right person, wrong time."

"your expectations are too high."

"is it because i remind you of them?"

"you didn't seem interested."

Pile 2 ✧ Key

key to one's heart, locked away, hidden, protected, only few can open, key tattoo, looking through the keyhole, looking withing, treasure, opening up to the world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

ambivert | gray or blue eyes | younger | stars | moon | 16 | 32 | 7 | 5

divinely guided and blessed union, synchronicities are prevalent with this connection, feeling like the universe participated in you finding each other because of how unlikely or based on luck it feels, wish fulfillment, dreaming of/about each other, knowing immediately, being a muse, somebody well-liked in their job, popular, you may meet at night, you may know them from work or meet them on vacation, manifesting a person, feeling like a blessing to someone, hopeful, visionary, aquarius/cancer and/or 4th/11th house placements, 4th/11th house synastry, they may have a hidden side, famous, dream come true.

7 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 7th or the 16th. themes of the 7th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 7th house or Libra placements. you may have significant 7th house synastry.

5 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 5th. themes of the 5th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 5th house or Leo placements. you may have significant 5th house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i find pieces of you everywhere i look."

"our love is what movies, books, and songs are written about."

"please start putting yourself first."

"i don't know if i want to be near you, or to be you."

"i play the song that reminds me of you."

"i'm manifesting you."

Pile 3 ✧ Fleur de Lys / Lily

french, royal, pure, faithful, gardner, gold, feeling reborn, motherhood, 100 years of love, fertility, strong morals, growth, in bloom, spring/summer/fall, not a cat person.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

different ethnicity/nationality | blonde | tattoos and/or piercings | man | lily | 28 | 30 | 10 | 1 | 3

they may identify as male, or embody a lot of masculine/yang energy, they may be older than you, very peaceful, you may feel like you can tell them any secret because they are very discreet, they may feel or describe themselves as a "grandpa/grandma" or dress like one, they may be very mature, they might've had to grow up fast, they can feel very serene and like a safe space, they could be the "calm" friend that you just recharge with, enjoying each other's company in silence, they may remind you of your grandpa/grandma, they may be a mentor, they may often talk out of experience or randomly say something very wise.

1 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 28th, the 10th, or the 1st. themes of the 1st/10th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 1st/10th house or Aries/Capricorn placements. you may have significant 1st/10th house synastry.

3 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 30th or the 3rd. themes of the 3rd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 3rd house or Gemini placements. you may have significant 3rd house synastry. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i'm scared of being vulnerable."

"i don't feel the same way you do."

"if we're lucky."

"i always check your horoscope too."

"you're romanticizing toxic things."

"you're my safe space."

Pile 4 ✧ Knot

balanced, harmonious, interconnected, interlaced fingers, hair knots, sacred geometry, synchronicity, self-sufficient, symmetry lover, 444, four-leaf clover.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

green or hazel eyes | older | colourful hair | rider | child | 1 | 13 | 4

they may be a mailman or a delivery person, incredible conversations that can change your perspective on things, immature, naive, happy inner child, enjoys simple things, young, may be a student atm or when you meet, appears into your life with a new beginning, or causes a new beginning, they may be a very trusting person, could literally be a child (under 18), could come with huge announcement, constantly changing, unpredictable, hyper, could have a child together, may have met them during some sort of visit, helping them grow, may see you as a child, trustworthy.

1 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 1st. themes of the 1st house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 1st house or Aries placements. you may have significant 1st house synastry.

4 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 13th or the 4th. themes of the 4th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 4th house or Cancer placements. you may have significant 4th house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i know nothing about you."

"i want us to grow old together."

"cupid ran out of arrows when it came to us."

" i still think about you, i can't let you go."

"i'm obsessed with you and it's not pretty."

"i write you in my daydreams."

Pile 5 ✧ Fork

forks from twilight, great cook, picky eater, a pick-me-up, eating with a specific fork, collecting forks, separation, falling/sliding through the cracks, bifurcation, neptune.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

brunette | straight or wavy hair | extrovert | woman | dog | 29 | 18 | 11 | 2 | 9

they may identify as female, or embody a lot of feminine/yin energy, friendship, loyal, dependable and helpful, humble, "bitch", may be very compassionate but also may be inclined to pitying people, may be a person who is blindly loyal to people that do not deserve their loyalty and love, "we accept the love we think we deserve", very giving and loves giving, golden retriever as a person, supportive, could be codependent, animal lover, a person in your friend group, or any group you belong in, wants to receive love, but even when they don't, they still give the other person their all, requires a lot of attention, athletic, active, optimistic, feels the need to help and people please because they feel like that's the only way they'll deserve love.

11 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 29th or the 11th. themes of the 11th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 11th house or Aquarius placements. you may have significant 11th house synastry.

2 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 2nd. themes of the 2nd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 2nd house or Taurus placements. you may have significant 2nd house synastry.

9 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 18th or the 9th. themes of the 9th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 9th house or Sagittarius placements. you may have significant 9th house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"please don't break my heart."

"i hate us."

"you're one more reason for me to stay."

"you hurt me."

"it's like I'm looking in a mirror."

"our relationship isn't balanced."

Pile 6 ✧ Dolphin

swimmer, psychic, sensitive to one's environment, perceptive, being able to read people easily, intuitive, protective, paranoid, healing, freedom, in tune with emotions.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

Who are you thinking about?

LGBTQIA2S+ | brown or black eyes | shorter | key | garden | 33 | 20 | 6 | 2

they may be the key to your social climbing, you may meet them at a party or social gathering, you may meet them when celebrating smth or in a venue, they may be very social and inviting, open-minded, party person, they are very important to you, they feel like a revelation, they may make you realize smth about yourself, opening lots of doors, they will reveal their secrets to you and vice-versa, they will open you to a whole new social group, opening up to the world, they may hold the key to your soul-tribe, one of the few people who could open you up, they see right through the facade you show the world, hidden treasure in a crowd.

3 or 6 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 6th. themes of the 6th house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 6th house or Virgo placements. you may have significant 6th house synastry.

2 might be their life path number. they may be born on the 20th or the 2nd. themes of the 2nd house in astrology might arise a lot in their life. they may have 2nd house or Taurus placements. you may have significant 2nd house synastry.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

What do they think about you?

"i've outgrown you."

"i'm longing for your touch."

"i won't change for you."

"i wish you knew how much you've helped me."

"stop trying to change me."

"together for a good time, not a long time."

Thank you for reading! Love you all.♡

You can buy me a coffee if you feel called to do so! This is never necessary, but always appreciated! ♡

[legguk]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )

[killingitreservoirdogsstyle]

Hi!! Thank u so much for following me back, you’re the coolest❤️ I was wondering if you could write headcanons for being Joe Cabot’s daughter and Eddie’s younger sister dating Vic. Thank you so much in advance!!!💞

Hello @scarletcountesss! You're welcome for the follow, thank you for requesting and keeping up with my chaotic bin on fire of a blog here! I can totally do these headcanons, this is such a great idea! Sorry it took so long, I hope it wasn't an inconvenience to you. Colds suck, oh my god. But I'm totally living for this idea, so I'm gonna get right into it! Thanks again for requesting and being so patient with me! You rock!

FANDOM: Reservoir Dogs 

GENRE: Requested Headcanons, romantic relationship, light smut, and AU!

SYNOPSIS: You’re the youngest of the Cabot family dating Vic Vega/Mr. Blonde and it is certainly interesting!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: AFAB! reader, innuendo in one headcanon, and romantic relationship!

So right off the bat, your dad and brother are extremely protective of you in every single way possible and in every area of your life. You literally cannot do much for yourself without them fussing so much over the supposed ‘risks’ involved. This had led you to be irate with them, but you know that the intention is good. 

It would be different if you were a boy, but because you’re female, it’s a whole other ballgame. Joe recognizes this more so than even Eddie. He raised you gently but firmly, doting on you constantly. And he teaches your brother manners towards you, that you are a young lady and thus must be treated with high regard. Some of the worst trouble Eddie’s ever gotten into was because he was short, abrasive, or cruel to you. Joe cuts no corners, nobody’s about to hurt his baby girl. 

Say what you want about the Cabot men, but they do know how to properly handle a girl. 

It became more difficult when you grew up, especially in the teenage years when boys began to show you romantic affection. Joe wasn’t against you having a boyfriend, or a girlfriend for that matter, instead he’s wary like a guard dog. He was the more relaxed one, it was Eddie who was the high strung one. Eddie “bitch slap” Cabot ( that’s my nod to @eddiecabotsmile LOL ) would grill, bully, threaten, and at worst, put a bullet in your beau at the slightest provocation and misstep. It’s a bloody affair being his sister. 

However, when you met Vic Vega, everything changed. You both were attracted to each other from the very first encounter, sensing that you two were meant to be a couple. The chemistry was tangible, potent enough that Joe understood what was happening. And he wasn’t unhappy about it, quite the opposite! He loves Blondie like a second son and couldn’t have picked a better man for you to date. Vic’s trustworthy, upstanding, and has you in good hands. It reminds him of his first wife, who is yours and Eddie’s mother, and whom he was just as madly in love with. So, your daddy just lets the relationship bloom on its own. 

Eddie was overjoyed that Vic might be his brother-in-law some time soon, but less thrilled that his baby sister was going to be in a romantic relationship. He just worries for you, what dating or marriage would do to you and your sibling relationship. Deep down he’s anxious about losing you for some inexplicable reason--though he will never admit that to anybody but himself. Whatever he can do to keep you safe seems the best option. Yet, when he sees how happy you are with Vic, something stirs within him that he can only identify as joy. Happiness that you are happy and fulfilled. 

Lots of dates with Vic in which your dad and brother tag along. Be it one of the nightclubs or steakhouses Joe owns or one of Blondie’s biker haunts, you four always manage to have a great time dancing, drinking, and eating to your heart’s content like royalty. 

Joe and Eddie continuing to shower you in gifts, with the addition of Vic’s presents too. Really, you are spoiled by their tokens. Blondie loves nothing more than seeing you in a dress he bought you and your neck dripping with fancy diamonds from his affections. You’re a classy girl, and he figures that a classy girl like you deserves special treatment. 

You are definitely concerned when Eddie and Vic pull jobs with the other Dogs. Things could go sour very quickly. God forbid if something were to befall your brother and boyfriend. Just the thought is enough to make you sick with worry. Luckily you have your daddy to put you at ease. He’s not about to let anything happen to his son and best man/future son-in-law. You know this, which reassures you. 

I had to put something along the lines of innuendo in this headcanon set, because we know that Blonde is a lusty little shit, a closet freak. Skip this one if you are uncomfortable with implied smut! When you’re around your brother and dad, any sexual attention is kept under the radar as much as possible for Vic. This is him we’re talking about after all, ha ha. Anyways, Eddie is certainly not a fan when he accidentally catches you two making out, presumably about to take it a step further. He whines and gags about it, being the drama queen he is. 

All good now for you to look, if you skipped from above!

Vic loves you and your family too, feeling fortunate to even be apart of it in the way he is. And you love him more than anything, living for him every single day of your life. Eddie and Joe are just thrilled that Blonde’s apart of the family now, something that should have been coming for awhile! 

I am so sorry if these weren’t great, please do let me know and I can totally fix them to suit your needs! Thank you so much for requesting again @scarletcountesss, I super appreciate you and your support, kindness, and friendship! You rock! And that goes for all of you, of course! More requests will be released soon, I promise! Stay tuned, and have a great Easter weekend everyone, if you celebrate it! Ciao!

[inmyownlaine]

Hi,love your writing and was wondering if I could request a John Murphy fluff/angst based on season 2or3 where the reader and him get in an argument about him ‘being with Emori’ but he likes the reader?

John Murphy x Reader: Promises

*Absolutely! Thank you for the suggestion. Also, let's just act like I haven't been MIA for literal months :)

GIF//

Warnings: None to my knowledge!

Word Count: 2078

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“Don’t go,” you begged, grabbing Murphy’s hand as it swung carelessly behind him. When your fingers touched his skin, Murphy stopped immediately. He inhaled heavily through his nose, trying to control the sadness and desire that you sent rippling through his body.

“Murphy, please,” you whimpered.

Murphy’s shoulder dropped as he let the single strap of his backpack slide down his arm. Your eyes lit up, hoping that was a positive sign. Hoping that you were enough to make him stay.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” you said assertively. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replied, apologetic eyes looking at you between half-closed eyelids. He was right. You didn’t understand. He had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t have to prove himself to you. Or ask for your forgiveness. None of the things that his blue eyes seemed to convey.

“You don’t need redemption.”

“But if I go now, maybe when I come back-”

“What?” you interrupted. “Everything will suddenly be different?”

“Is it so wrong to want that?” he questioned softly, a shaky sigh leaving his body. You tightened your grip, white knuckles against red calloused ones. Just another casualty of his bad temper.

“Of course not. But you’re not going to fix anything by leaving. You need to stay. Stay and show them who you can be. Don’t leave and prove them right.”

Murphy dropped his head, fixated on your two hands intertwined. There was a lot more going on than the surface discussion. You danced around being in love by using double meanings and knowing glances. This wasn’t about him leaving to find himself. It was about him leaving you.

Glassy eyes meet together in a flurry of uncertainty and passion. The pit of your stomach churned as Murphy leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. They barely touched before he pulled away, eyes closed. It was a kiss that you never wanted to experience, especially being your first.

You knew he was leaving.

“Don’t cry,” he told you, hearing a sniffle escape. His eyes still rested, he quietly spoke, “I will be back. I promise. I have something to come back to.”

“Murphy, I-”

“I promise.” He now faced the reality of the situation, confronting his fears head on as he stared into your bloodshot eyes. There was no way he would ever be the cause of this again. He just needed one chance to make you proud. To clear his name.

“I promise.”

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The taste of dirt and sweat caused you to gag as you were manhandled into the unknown. You had no idea why you were the target of a kidnapping. If anything, you laid low and kept to yourself. Regardless, you followed the directions given to you, fearing what would become of your life if you didn’t.

“I’ve brought you some company!” the voice behind you bellowed. You jumped at the sudden noise, interested in the way he practically sang the announcement.

“Who?” another voice asked, seeming alert and slightly panicked. You knew this voice anywhere and it quickly became clear why you were here. Even still, you obeyed the commands given. If you spoke a word, made any noise, it would be the end of your life.

“Worried, are we?” The man started to laugh heartily as you continued to walk. Every thundering step matched the beating of your heart. What would happen when you finally stopped?

There was no response, so the man began to speak. “Someone who wouldn’t shut up about you. Scared for you. Desperate to see you.”

As if being captured weren’t enough, this was just plain humiliating. He didn’t have to recount all the times you pined after Murphy while he was gone. You lost track of the months it had been since you last saw him. This was not how you wanted to reunite.

“Who. Is. It?” Murphy asked yet again. It was dark and menacing. A resemblance of a person that he used to be. You knew that would always be a part of him. Especially when it involved people that he cared about.

“A girlfriend?” the man guessed. You cringed hearing that word, tormenting and taunting you of what never was. But how Murphy replied was even more heartbreaking.

“Emori?” The man began to cackle once more as Murphy cursed and threatened his life. It was terrible to hear the intensity of his love. How much he cared for someone else while you turned others down, waiting for him.

The man gave you one last shove, causing you to fall to your knees. Through minute gaps in the woven sack over your head, you finally caught an amber hue of light. You groaned in pain, trying your best to stay upright with your hands tied behind your back.

There was a brief moment of silence before another outburst broke out. This time, you heard the scuffling of feet against the floor. Fabric harshly rubbed against a scratchy surface. It sounded like an attempt to escape.

“Let her go!” Murphy yelled.

“Why would I do that? I have everything I need, now. Except for the information.”

“Just let her go and I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you everything,” Murphy frantically said.

“But I’m having so much fun. Maybe just one...little…” A cold blade touched your neck, causing a shriek to escape your throat. He put an ounce of pressure against your rapidly thumping artery.

“I swear to God if you hurt her I will kill you!” Murphy’s voice was full of anguish as it broke here and there. It was a frequency in which you had never heard from him. It was harrowing to witness.

The knife was removed from your neck. In a series of exchanges, Murphy gave him the answer to every single question he asked. When the interrogation was over, you were picked up and moved to a new area. Here, you were tied once more around my stomach.

Then, without warning, the bag was removed from your head. You could barely take in my surroundings before Murphy called your name. Tears fell from your eyes as you saw, for the first time in months, John Murphy. Though you had to admit, he looked worse for wear.

“Murphy,” you cried back, wanting more than anything to be able to touch him. To hug him. To take in his scent. You had been without this man for way too long.

“That’s sweet,” the man, who you could now identify as Titus, interrupted. “But I’ve got what I wanted. For now.” And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving you and Murphy alone.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Murphy asked immediately.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “But you don’t look good at all.”

“Yeah, well, being tortured does that to a person.”

“He tortured you?” you questioned, breath leaving your body. Picturing someone hurting Murphy made you sick.

“A few times,” he shrugged.

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to ask him about his trip. You wanted to know if he discovered himself. If he found who he truly was. But you couldn’t get past the fact that he said another girl’s name.

You never claimed to be anything more than friends, but you thought it went without saying. A person doesn’t just kiss someone before they leave. Or promise that they would come back to you.

“I hate that I have to see you like this,” Murphy finally said, breaking the silence. “I always imagined coming back to camp with Jaha’s group. We just saved the human race, or something like that. But it didn’t matter, because I was looking for you.”

“Not Emori?” you mumbled, mustering up the courage to be so bold. Murphy’s eyes grew wide as he avoided your haunting gaze.

“Look, it wasn’t supposed to- she just- we were,” he tried to explain, slumping over in the process.

“I waited for you. Every day,” you admitted. “The last thing I did before I went to bed was look out the gate for you. Every morning I woke up with the hope that it would be the day you came back to me.”

You started to sob, recounting the loneliness that you felt. And the fear of not knowing Murphy’s fate. Were you holding out for someone who was dead? Was it hopeless to wish that he would keep his promise?

“I turned people down. I kept faith in you. I told everyone how proud I was. And then to know that you weren’t keeping me with you at all. I wasn’t even a passing thought.”

“It’s not like that,” Murphy said.

“But it is. She’s your girlfriend.”

“I don’t- love her,” he said softly, swallowing hard enough to make his entire throat bob up and down.

“Then what?” You were at the tipping point with Murphy. Exasperated with his short answers and frustrated with the secrets he was holding. If he wouldn’t be honest with you now, there was no way you would ever be with him in the future.

“I’ve been through a lot. More than I expected.” He stared into the distance, seemingly void of emotion. It was like he was lost, trying hard to remember something that he pushed away. “I was trapped. By myself. 86 days. You know how I spent that time?”

You shook your head in response. He was still burning holes in the wall, but somehow knew that you replied. He smirked slightly before saying, “I thought about you. And how good it would feel to see you once I was out. Granted, I went absolutely crazy in there, but you kept me as sane as I could be.”

You couldn’t help but to chuckle at this. “I can’t imagine you any more psychotic than you are now.”

“Is that so?” he bantered, catching you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re a freak,” you teased.

“Why? Because I’ve killed a few people?”

“Yeah, that probably contributes.” The two of you shared a smile, falling back into old patterns. You missed having a person that you could shamelessly be yourself around. The quick wit and sly comments were always absorbed and thrown back by Murphy. No one else stood a chance against you.

“When he said he had someone,” Murphy carried on, “you’re the first person I thought of. But it seemed impossible until I saw you. I don’t know what came over me. I- I was blind with rage. I tried to fight my way out. Because if he hurt you-”

Murphy couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. You didn’t need him to. You knew what was left to say. You heard the distinct difference, the silence that fell, when he realized you were the captured person and not Emori.

“I know that doesn’t make any of this right, but I just wanted that feeling of safety that you gave me. And Emori was there. I misplaced it. And I’m sorry,” Murphy apologized.

“What about Emori, then?” you pressed.

“She’s a good person, and she will understand. I just couldn’t live with myself if I left you again.”

“You mean that?” Murphy simply nodded, outstretching his fingers in your direction. Even though you couldn’t hold hands, the sentiment remained as you reflected his actions. You were two people trying to make your own light in the darkest of situations.

“I love you,” you managed to choke out, taking in the dried blood on his hairline and the bruises on his skin. His pant leg was ripped at the cuff and his hands were caked in dirt. You needed him to know that no matter what happened, now and forever, that he could carry this with him. Even after death, if fate so decided.

“I love you, too,” he said, without hesitation or a second thought. It was something he wished he had told you the night he decided to leave. The only thing he regretted once he left the compound.

But he had the chance to fix all of that. And in that moment, he swore that once you escaped, he would always be there to protect you. He would always console you and your wondering thoughts. He would love you the way that he should have a long time ago.

He promised he would always find a way to come back to you.

He promised he would never leave.

He promised.

**Hey, it's Lainey. Slightly embarrassing but I am back from the grave! I hope you all enjoy this and still love Murphy as much as I do <3

[my-darling-boy]

Hey, I’m sorry you’re feeling nervous/stressed about posting your top surgery thing, I just wanted to drop by and say that you don’t have to experience dysphoria at all to be whatever gender identity you identify as, and if anyone tells you otherwise they are a, probably a terf or a truscum, and b, incorrect! You also dont have to experience dysphoria any specific way! I know you experience gender differently than allistic people, but it sounded like you were worried about having to “justify” yourself and I wanted to remind you that you never have to do that 💕 Your experience is valid and deserves to be heard and anybody who tries to tell you differently can take several seats.

Thanks! Yeah I definitely know you don’t need dysphoria to be trans... it’s just I get asked a lot of dysphoria related questions related to top surgery and am Kinda just worried when bringing up my answers cos gender to me is a social thing I’ve never been able to grasp as an autistic? Like I know I’m a man—in what ways I’ve learned to understand “man”, and “masculine”—and that that’s the label that encompasses my internal identity as much as it can, but I know my understanding of that is SO different than an allistic man’s. And I feel like trying to point out how learning what dysphoria was only confused my sense of identity or how I don’t feel very liberated by some gender language that other allistics feel liberated by or how autistic people can have a hard time navigating social constructs of gender, instead of people acknowledging I have an innately different way of experiencing gender, allistics are just like “no that’s not it. This is the way Classic Trans People experience gender and if you don’t put that stereotypical experience in your take or if you call out parts of that narrative autistics find difficult to identify with, then you don’t get to talk about your own story because it’s not involving my non-autistic narrative” which... literally defeats the purpose of offering my own story when practically all that exists is non-autistic trans narratives autistic people can’t always Vibe with. Like in other words, if I’m like hey I kinda Don’t feel the same way about my own gender experience because of the social lens society usually views it with, someone manifests out of nowhere and is like “why tf are you attacking my dysphoria???” and I’m like what

[interact-if]

Day 2 of Pride Month interviews! You know them, you love them…. give it up for Ames!

Ames, author of Attollo and Metamorphosis

Pride Month Featured Authors

“…and it was a singular, terrible thought, which burrowed itself into your mind like an engorged maggot. This was not a man nor a monster. This was a concept, an ideology, a terrible myth, which had personified itself to stand before you now.You were, to put it simply, screwed.”

After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend.

Too bad it’s never so simple.

Demo: Attollo, Metamorphosis (TBA)

Tags: cybernoir, thriller

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: Tell us a little bit about your project(s)!

Attollo is a cyber-noir horror set in a walled city off the coast of the Atlantic that’s been a victim of a nuclear disaster. After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your sibling’s apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s going on and, hopefully, be home before the weekend. Too bad it’s never so simple. Attollo is a 17+ game that deals with heavy topics and a lot of moral questioning; from cults to corrupt government, it has no shortage of monsters in the dark—both metaphorical and literal.

Metamorphosis is a crime/horror story based in the world of crime scene cleanup, where there are three simple steps: Get the call, clean the scene, and don’t ask too many questions. These are the rules that you live by under the employment of Noctua’s Crime Scene Services, and you credit them for keeping you alive.

However, after a routine house call brings forth nightmares of memories that are not your own, you find yourself pulled deeper into Noctua—a city of both monster and man—in a bid to find out the truth behind the murder of Deirdre Callow, and better yet, how her memories came to be yours. Your job mandates that you don’t dig too deep—but could this finally be the exception?

Metamorphosis is 18+ and will have explicit content; follow the last moments of a stranger to find out not only who took her life, but how this connects to the underbelly that Noctua works so hard to hide.

Q2: Why interactive fiction? What drew you to the medium?

Lmaoo, oh man. I think it really all began last summer when I first found examples of interactive fiction. I don’t even remember how I came across it, it might’ve been that I saw it mentioned in a post or I saw it as a tag on Itch.io, but at some point, last summer I began to investigate it more. I think what really drew me in was the ability for the player to control the narrative; it was like playing an old RPG, but modernized, and the fact that I could see a story unfold that was influenced by my decisions was so fascinating to me. Not to mention that IF allows so much more character depth than regular novels, in my opinion.

I’m 99% sure my first exposure to interactive fiction was through the game Crème de la Crème (a fantastic game, by the way) and I just enjoyed it so much that I went haywire for the genre. Then Temple of the Endless Night came out (another fantastic game that I’m looking forward to!), and that was really the turning point for inspiring me to give it a go. Now, almost a year later, here I am working on my own two games!

Q3: Are your characters influenced by your identity? How?

My bisexuality doesn’t have much of a major influence on the game, but I do think it contributed to the way that I view and write relationships. I figured out my sexuality around high school (I kissed a girl in high school and found out I liked it just as much as when I kissed a boy) and since then I’ve been very involved in the LGBTQ+ community of both my hometown and uni town.

I think this involvement, like being able to hear about other people’s experiences and share my own, has made me feel a lot more comfortable writing some of the characters in the game. Although Attollo and Metamorphosis both don’t focus heavily on relationships (both have murder in them, which I feel is a bit more pressing), I do keep the option for any RO’s to be romanced by anyone, regardless of gender or preference, because that’s simply what I’ve become so attuned to. In terms of side characters relationships as well, I think my involvement and my own experiences have allowed me to write far more diverse relationships than I might have, and I think that this has also allowed a more fulfilling experience for players when reading through.

I also have incorporated some struggles that I’ve faced before because of my identity into the games. For example, I and a few others have faced issues with religion due to who we are, and I incorporate this into both games. Dreamwalker, Pariah, and Sysba from Attollo all have shadows of this experience in their character origins, and Ilali and Ariston from Metamorphosis has a major point involving identity and beliefs. Both games also have undertows of ostracization and division between groups, which is also something I’ve experienced in the past. Being able to grapple these moments and control them via a narrative has been eye opening for both myself and others involved, and I’m hoping it can be a learning experience for the readers as well.

Q4: What would you like to see more of in LGBT+ fiction?

I think, now, the amount of progress in LGBTQ+ fiction is expanding at a wonderful rate. There are so many interactive fictions with options to select sexuality, select gender, select beliefs, etc. However, despite this expansion, there’s still a good deal of backlash against some aspects of LGBTQ+ fiction.

For example, as a bisexual woman who has dated men, I know there are some individuals who may not consider me a part of the LGBTQ+ because of this aspect. Not only is this incredibly disheartening, but it’s a viewpoint that I think should be educated against, and fiction is a fantastic pathway to do this. Another example I can think of is a friend of mine who identifies as asexual but is sex-neutral rather than sex-repulsed. Most people can’t believe her when she says this, and she often faces backlash for this declaration as well. This is another thing that I think that, with exposure through a medium such as fiction, can be worked on.

What I’m trying to say here is that I think LGBTQ+ fiction can be a brilliantly educational platform—if used right. Although it already teaches so much with what it has, I think having that representation of different subgroups of sexuality, of their experiences and beliefs, so people can become aware and knowledgeable of these options, is something I’d like to see more of.

Q5: What or who are some of your biggest inspirations?

Oh man, I struggled to list off inspirations because I know I have some, but as soon as someone asks me who they are my brain just goes ‘brrrrrr’ LMAO.

In terms of the games that I write and the worlds that I build, I think David Lynch and Robert Chambers are probably the two that I somehow incorporate. Attollo and Metamorphosis both have a lot of surrealist horror, which are what these two really specialized in. Shirley Jackson is also another person who inspired me a lot when it came to the writing and creation of Attollo, especially the intrapersonal relationships between the characters.

In terms of life, this is something else I really struggle to answer. I don’t really have celebrity inspirations or anything like that, but I do get inspired by my close friends and sister a lot. Seeing them go through the struggles that they face and absolutely thrive really drives me to push through my own struggles. They’re the strongest, most brilliant group of people that I know, and I consider myself incredibly fortunate that I can be a part of their lives. Not only that, but we also all collectively encourage each other to push further and to chase our dreams (as cheesy as that is LMAO) and that’s something that I think is another stroke of good fortune. I struck gold when I met them, and they’re some of the biggest inspirations in my life.

Q6: What’s a super vague spoiler for your current project?

For Attollo, I’d say ‘Home is where the heart is.’ For Metamorphosis, to quote John Berendt, ‘Always stick around for one more drink.’

Q7: Lastly, what advice would you give to your readers?

What advice would I give to you all? Oh my, I’m not exactly a wise woman here, but I’ll do my best to give you something lmaooo. I think what I really want you to walk away with, from both my stories and this interview, is that if you’re passionate about something, then share it with the world. Don’t let anyone deter your passion.

I remember listening to this painter once who commented to his friend how he ‘really liked painting’, and his friend’s first response was ‘but are you good at it?’. He then compared this to the scenario of walking; would you say, ‘but are you good at it?’ to someone who said, ‘I really like walking’? No, because it simply wouldn’t make sense, and it doesn’t make sense to say that to anyone who’s doing something out of passion.

To put it simply—if you love something, then don’t let anyone take that passion from you. I began writing these stories because I’m passionate about Attollo and Metamorphosis; I love each character, each bit of lore, and I share it with you because I want you all to enjoy it as well. Am I the best writer? God, no. Does everyone like what I write? Definitely not. But will I let this stop me from writing, from enjoying what I’m doing? Never, and I want you to do the same.

Explore your passions, embrace your passions, and let what makes you happy continue to do so