#it's....always very circumstantial ?

[homelyhoney]

ughhh I'm feeling out of sync and a little at odds w my best friend rn which BLOWS

[gyrabanias]

the one w the mirror black psyche lock reminds me of a fic I read where nick used the magatama on himself like that and it's such a FUN idea

[recoord]

Staying neutral until Neil Gaiman is convicted by the courts?

Second attempt to express my thoughts on the matter. The first time, my wording was not the best and it needed to be fact checked so here there is a summarized attempt. Thank you to everyone who pointed it out.

Using "neutrality" to remain sceptical to the allegations is not as good as an idea as it seems.

Many have shown scepticism because of the medium, The Tortoise podcast, used to publish most of the accusations. I've found many don't know there's a second podcast that published one of the women's allegations: Am I Broken: Survivor Stories Podcast. A podcast made by a non-binary licensed clinical mental health counselor specializing in sexual trauma. The link for the podcast is here and the link for the transcript here. [Credits for the transcript to Ersatz Haderach].

Personally, I think you shouldn't discard the allegations just for the medium chosen, they're still valid. But, there’s a second podcast and Claire's allegations there help to amplify the other victims's voices. If you haven't read or listened to any of the allegations, that could be a good start.

Ignoring that information and testimonies exist is far from being neutral. Learn about the allegations before choosing "neutrality".

It's important to notice that in cases like the ones exposed by the women's allegations against Gaiman, "Neutrality" is already biased in favor of the accused.

Waiting for a formal sentence for Gaiman to start believing in the victims is choosing to blindly trust a corrupt system. It also sounds like if you weren't conscious enough of the many problems that rape victims face in the justice system.

I've found an interesting report on the matter with information about how justice fails victims . Here are some important points:

Why the legal justice fails rape survivors?

According to a report made by Centre for Women’s Justice, the End Violence Against Women Coalition, Imkaan and Rape Crisis England & Wales.(2020):

Obstacles to conviction

- "In the vast majority of (adult) rape cases, the defendant will accept that sexual intercourse took place, and it is only the element of ‘consent’ that is in dispute, or – put another way – whether a reasonable person would characterise what happened as consensual or non-consensual."

"Given the sexual nature of the offence, it will often take place in private, the complainant and defendant (or defendants) being the only persons present."

"There are very rarely any eye-witnesses to the offence itself, able to corroborate either the complainant or the defendant’s account as to what has unfolded. Indeed, there will more often be no independent evidence at all which corroborates the complainant’s account as to the circumstances of the sexual encounter. At best, there may be circumstantial evidence which supports what the complainant is saying: evidence which, for example, provides a picture of the complainant’s physical or mental state before and/or after the attack; or there may be evidence which is broadly supportive of her credibility, or undermines the suspect’s credibility."

- Even in ‘better’ periods, rape cases have always posed very significant challenges for prosecutors. While volumes of convictions have fluctuated over the years, the rate of convictions for rape has invariably been lower than in most other areas of crime."

-“it has been widely accepted by criminal justice bodies that many members of the public continue to believe in long-standing ‘myths and stereotypes’ relating to rape, which do not correspond with reality, result in disbelief of victims/survivors, and are now outdated in the eyes of the law.”

- “When a victim/survivor’s credibility is considered so fundamental to winning a rape or serious sexual offences trial, those who do not fit the ‘mould’ of a credible victim – because of their age, their outward presentation, their social skills, a disadvantaged background, or a learning mental health disability – are the least likely to see justice served.”

- “Whenever the profile of rape victims/survivors and their poor treatment by the criminal justice system begins to receive the attention it deserves, there comes a backlash and a rise in public concern regarding the fate of the ‘falsely’ accused.”

I recommend reading the whole report for further information.

Don't choose "neutrality" as an excuse to hide your bias, listen to the victims. There is a lot of information out there. Many patterns are repeated among victims who, before the allegations were made public, thought they were the only person who experienced the same thing, with Gaiman as the common denominator.

If you want to add something, feel free to do it.

[asidian]

One thing I've spent a lot of time thinking about is how quickly Charles opens up to Crystal, and why it was he showed her things that he's kept from Edwin for thirty years.

The first component is, I think, because she needs him to.

Charles is, at his core, an extremely supportive person. He tries so hard for everyone around him, unfailingly. He's there for Edwin and Crystal, emotionally and physically, throughout the series. He tries to put on a happy face to keep everyone's spirits up, because at his core, he needs to be needed. He desperately wants people to like him, and his always-cheerful act is at least in part meant as an offer of support to others.

Not only that, but he routinely puts his own needs and wants aside in favor of giving others what they need instead. (I go more into how that affects his relationship with Crystal here and with Edwin here.)

So it's interesting to note that the first time he opens up to Crystal, it isn't for his own sake. Crystal is saying that it's hard not to be able to go home.

And what does Charles do? He reaches out in the way he thinks she needs.

He shows her his parents.

It's his way of saying that he gets it. He understands where she's coming from. It is hard not to be able to go home. And won't she let them help?

But it's interesting that this is something that he hasn't shown Edwin.

Not only hasn't he shown Edwin, but he still doesn't want Edwin to know. He specifically asks Crystal not to tell him.

So, why?

Well... just like he thinks Crystal needs to hear it, Charles thinks that Edwin doesn't.

One of the very first things he learned about Edwin is that he escaped from hell. Charles says that Edwin has told him a lot about it. And from the very first episode, it's extremely clear that Edwin doesn't shy away from talking about his time there.

So we've got Charles, a consummate people-pleaser who's desperate for approval, faced with this boy who just did the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him. We've got Charles, who supports the people he cares for as naturally as breathing, faced with a boy he cares dearly for, and that boy is dealing with decades of trauma.

So what does Charles think that boy needs? He needs someone to help him. He needs someone to be kind, and optimistic, and cheerful, because Edwin's time in hell has taught him to always expect the worst.

So Charles stuffs his own issues down somewhere deep because Edwin needs him to put on a cheerful face.

That's the first part.

The second reason why Charles opens up to Crystal so quickly is, I think, circumstantial.

She happens to be there during the Devlin house fiasco, when he's being faced by very visceral, unavoidable reminders of his own abuse. She's literally in the room when he reads Hope's diary, and from what we see and hear about Charles' family life, everything in that diary mirrors what Charles went through.

Hope's father has very strict rules. She's walking on eggshells. She never knows what's going to set him off.

Charles relates deeply to all of those things, and seeing his own thoughts and feelings spelled so clearly out on the page is enough to bring him to tears.

He's looking at this girl who, like him, struggled constantly to be good enough and constantly fell short.

For the first time in three decades, Charles is confronted with a situation that mirrors his own home life, one to one, and Crystal is there for it in real time.

She's able to see him put the mask down because she's there when it cracks.

Which brings us around to the third component.

And this one is a little more speculative, but hear me out.

Picture one Charles Rowland, circa 1989.

His dad beats the shit out of him on the regular. He thinks it's because he can never quite manage to be good enough, even though he's trying as hard as he knows how. His mother never defends him or speaks up for him.

His so-called friends? They'll beat him to death later this same year.

He's bi, but the AIDS epidemic is in full swing, and even if it wasn't, he's busily pretending the part of him that likes boys doesn't exist, because he looked at a boy the wrong way once, or maybe even kissed one, and his father beat the shit out of him for it.

So with a dire home life and the world's worst friends, what's left? Where's this boy who's desperate for a little kindness going to look for it?

Well, the only option that's left.

Charles is starved for approval and affection both, and for most of his short life, he's got exactly one avenue available to get either of them.

Girls his own age are safe.

They don't hurt him. They don't stand by and let his father beat him. They don't turn on him and literally murder him, when they don't get their way.

After he dies, he's got Edwin, and Edwin is everything to him. But for thirty long years, Edwin's sexuality and romantic inclinations are so far under wraps that they may as well be in another galaxy.

Edwin is kind, but he's stilted and does poorly with people. Edwin values Charles dearly, but he's awkward at expressing physical affection. Edwin cares about Charles a great deal, but he shies away from strong emotions. (If you're interested, I talk more about Edwin vs emotions here.)

So of course Charles would miss kissing. That's the only chance he's ever had, as far as experience has taught him, to earn any kind of physical affection.

And Crystal, when she comes along, falls directly into that "safe" category in his brain.

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Old love never rusts. Shanks has to face that truth when he meets again the husband of the girl he almost had.]

Shanks's version | Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Shanks knows he has no right to ask this question. Not when he's the one that up and left in the middle of the night, without even a word of warning that could soothe your aching heart. Nevertheless, he can't help but indulge his yearning:

"How is she?"

Mihawk raises his eyebrows barely noticeably. He seems surprised that after Shanks's disappearing act and a decade of dead silence, he's still interested in you, even if motivated by pure courtesy. But before Mihawk answers the question, he notices something strange in the red-haired captain's eyes, a sensation he's rarely seen in them before - sadness.

Interesting, how some things never quite change.

"Well," Mihawk answers laconically. Instead of indulging Shanks's lovesick longing, he wishes the man would finally accept his utter failure and move on. You're married to Dracule and this isn't going to change anytime soon. If ever.

"Wells tend to be cold and musty," Shanks jokes but his tone is far from lighthearted. In fact, his voice sounds strained like he's holding back tears. "I hope she fared better with you."

The Red-Hair pirates laugh at their captain's joke but quickly turn quiet again. Something about the tense confrontation makes their good humour virtually nonexistent. Especially when Mihawk gives them a curt, cold glare. He doesn't find his past rivalry with Shank to be funny in any way.

"She has everything she could ask for," he says with a sense of finality to his words. Mihawk feels himself growing irritated.

"Good, good..." Shanks nods, lost in thought for a moment. He clenches his hand, giving away the unpleasant tension inside his chest. The captain has promised himself to let go of you. Alas, here we are. "Is she happy?" he suddenly asks.

Mihawk furrows his thick eyebrows in an angry frown. It's almost insulting for Shanks to have any doubts regarding your well-being under the Warlord's care. "What sort of question is this?"

"A 'yes or no' sort."

"Then yes," he drones his words.

Shanks forces a wide, playful smile. There's agony hiding in his eyes and as though Mihawk is a blind man, he's trying to play it cool and appear unaffected. The truth is, the red-haired man is holding on by a thread.

"I bet she talks about me all the time," Shanks says in faux amusement. His voice almost doesn't shake. "We both know I've always been her favourite."

"And you'd lose." Mihawk begins to feel an insidious satisfaction from the distress of the other man. "In fact, I doubt she thinks about you at all."

"You keep telling yourself that, hawk-eyes."

"This misguided flattery is much unwarranted," Mihawk warns him. "No one bets on losing dogs."

But she would, Shanks thinks to himself. She always did.

Short fingernails leave bruising marks on the inside of Shanks's palm as he's clenching his fist. Once again he's reminded that when it mattered, he was a coward and fled from the overwhelming, crippling love he feels for you. Only know there's no hope, there's no ifs - you belong to another man.

Afternoon sunlight reflects off of Mihawk's gold ring. Shanks glares at it for a moment too long to pass off his intense stare as circumstantial. He can almost hear the mocking laughter of the universe as the consequence of the amalgamation of his bad choices is merely two meters away from him. There is nothing he wouldn't give up to turn back the time and make sure that things go differently, that he never became afraid of being too deep in love.

But time, like the seas, has no master.

_____

I was so torn about this one, I couldn't decide until the very end, so if you want to read a version where the scenario is flipped and Shanks is the 'lucky guy', just hit me up.

[natalyarose]

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓼 - 𝓐𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮

Hi, and happy Bharani season to all :) I've been working on this analysis for days not necessarily because it took long to write, but moreso because I could write endlessly on Venus Nakshatras & it took me a lot of time to organize the stream of info I'd written in a more adequate manner. I hope this piece is enjoyed & informative to someone 🩷

In this piece I'm going to be diving into Venus's themes of dancing along the line between pain & pleasure, and the artistry and beauty that is born from the merging of these two extremes.

𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓑𝓸𝔁 𝓫𝔂 𝓟𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓼𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓝𝓪𝓴𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼

The song 'Glory Box' by Portishead is the song that inspired me to write my first song and take it truly seriously.

It's just such a sensual, classy, sexy, beautiful masterpiece. Though beyond that, the meaning portrayed in the song & music video speaks to my soul so vividly. I always was enchanted by this track, but seeing the music video brought it all together for me and the meaning just 'clicked'.

'I'm so tired, of playing playing with this bow and arrow I'm gonna give my heart away leave it to the other girls to play for I've been a temptress too long just give me a reason to love you give me a reason to be a woman... I just wanna be a woman'

Everything about this song, this video just screams Purvashadha & Venus. Even the line 'playing with this bow & arrow' lol- sidereal Sagittarius much? I wouldn't be surprised if Purvashadha is directly connected to Cupid.

I'm going to go a bit freeform in my interpretation of the song & video, but I think I've got the 'right' grasp of the idea portrayed:

The music video depicts people in a vintage style office setting & old fashioned, very professional 'uptight' attire. It is boring and in a sense drab, but we see life in the subtle expressions & communication. There is flirtation, but it is secretive. There is an an expectation to be professional, to be 'proper'.

There are clips of Old Hollywood-esque people having drinks, enjoying themselves. We get sporadic visuals of the singer (Beth Gibbons, Purvashadha Sun, likely Uttarashadha Moon; Uttarashadha being prominent in music), dressed beautifully & glamorously performing on the tv, looking almost pained in her beauty & artistic display of emotion.

This song speaks to the desperation to be free and sensual as a woman, or just as a soulful human being in a world where there are responsibilities and expectations to keep up an image, 'play the game' in society. The desire to 'be a woman' and express your feminine energy authentically, dress up, be emotional & sensuous, indulge in pleasure and break free from social/circumstantial limitations. However, the pain and friction between two worlds almost makes the longing and lust for the person/life you desire even more intoxicating.

Venusian desire & artistry is so intense, in the corporate world Venus ruled individuals often find themselves needing to reign in their passion, and even punishing themselves for it.

I think I first started listening to this song when I heard it in a reel that was again, extremely Venusian! I would credit it, but I think this just was a circulating video & I have no clue who the originator was. The dude (Gene Kelly) has Purvashadha Moon & Purvaphalguni ascendant. Just look at the suave-ness of Venus men lol :

There's so much more I could write about this specific song and the nature of Venus, but ima try to stick with the 'k.i.s.s' (keep it simple, stupid!) principle.

I always thought that this song & message is such a perfect piece of art to demonstrate Venusian nature, but I will note that Beth's Uttarashadha Moon definitely intertwines in terms of the message this song communicates. Uttarashadha being the height of the Sun (a 'masculine' energy) is very on par with the experience of wanting to be feminine in masculine dominated fields/with traditionally masculine expectations upon you. We could see this as almost like a conflict of interest between Beth Gibbon's Purvashadha (Venusian, feminine, romantic, beautiful) Sun and her Uttarashadha (ambitious, masculine, stoic) Moon.

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓪𝓷 '𝓑𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓸𝓶' & 𝓛𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰

You can often tell when a Venusian is behind a song or art piece because the vocal tone, writing style and or colour choice emanates this distinct attitude: sexy, raunchy, articulate... & often kinda bored or reflecting an unhappiness with the way the modern/current state of the world is. Especially in Purvashadha Nakshatra, there is often an intense idealisation of the past and 'old times', reflecting Venus Nakshatra patterns of longing for things they can't yet have and shaping their world view around that desire. This definitely speaks to the way Tropical Earth signs (especially Capricorn) are seen being drawn to old, vintage & prestigious relics of the past. This is in part due to Ketuvian Nakshatras residing within Tropical Earth signs, but it is also Venus Nakshatras' placement. Venusian elitism is possibly best observed in idealisation of the past- something so exclusive that nobody can actually go back to it & mainstream society often disregards it.

Venusians can exist in this state of boredom and embody this energy, this aura that almost reads 'impress me, peasant' lol. Feed me grapes & fine wine while I lay adorned in jewellery on a velvet chair- then we'll talk.

This is where Venusian Nakshatras classic pickiness, elitism & in some cases classism (and all the other isms lmao) comes in.

I once read that men can be attracted to women who look bored, disinterested or detached, because they take it as a challenge to be the one to impress her and light her up- very Venusian. It kinda explains (some) men's misguided efforts to impress women who are very clearly not interested. We see this in nature too- peacocks (and other birds), for example lol; the male peacock flamboyantly attempting to impress the female, and more often than not she is disinterested- female peacocks are a tough crowd man.

You can always spot Venusians by their expression & overall demeanour- they leave you feeling like 'I admire you, but I'm kinda scared of you and feel like you're judging me at the same time' lol. The irony lies in the fact that while yes, Venusians can be extremely critical of others, their 'judgy' expression often has more to do with the fact that they're always judging themselves. Harshly critiquing themselves like a piece of art. Venusians can find it veryy hard to feel they are 'good enough', the same way an artist never feels the painting is truly done.

Sophia Loren, Purvashadha Asc | Blake Lively, Purvaphalguni Moon | Donna Summer, Purvashadha Sun & Purvaphalguni Asc

daddy Ted Danson, Purvashadha Sun | Audrey Hepburn, Bharani Sun | Johnny Depp, Purvashadha Moon

admittedly, Audrey & Johnny boi come across a little softer to me due to their other placements, but they still definitely have the look/energy. My Bharani mama was a master of this look, & I always thought she looked a little like Donna Summer.

While Venus women embody this choosiness & unapproachability, Venus men can take on that role of wanting to be the ones to impress the woman they've set their sights on, 'wow' her.

However, that being said, Venusian men are also often very picky themselves. Venusian men and women alike are seldom impressed by aesthetic beauty alone and place a lot of importance on internal value. They often crave exoticism & uniqueness in women. Venus in our charts represents what we value & find beautiful. In a way there is more value in something or someone who is rare.

When Venusian men do find a girl they really like, they can be extremely persistent and there are a lot of cases where Venusian men will successfully initiate a relationship with a woman who wasn't initially interested by genuinely winning her over with his dedication, adoration & direct pursuit of her.

In terms of aesthetic appearance, Venusians (again, men & women) tend to have a preference for natural beauty in some way too. Femininity often refers to an energy of being flowing & receptive rather than performative or immensely exuberant. It's not uncommon to see Venus women forgoing 'performative' femininity and embracing raw female beauty. No makeup, allowing body hair to grow, messy hair, not being afraid to look 'beautifully dishevelled'- yet never necessarily unkempt. Imperfectly perfect, like a piece of art.

This is why Mars Nakshatras tend to be the women most prominent in the world of makeup and glamour. The curation and forceful manipulation of the body to look a certain way is 'masculine' in a sense. Like the way mankind manipulates & curates nature. Although there are two sides to this coin, as Venus Nakshatras can also grapple with the 'beauty is pain' idea and go to great, sometimes sadistic, masochistic lengths to achieve their ideal.

Venusians, but Bharani natives especially have a reputation for rarely smiling fully, always holding a mildly restrained expression (one of Bharani's translations literally being 'the Star of Restraint'. The Mona Lisa famously depicts this Bharani-esque expression; painted of course by Bharani Sun, Leonardo Da Vinci. It is often remarked that the painting itself isn't particularly outstanding in terms of beauty, but what makes it so charming is the mysterious aura emanated through means of the 'drab' yet earthy, sensual colour pallet & demure, vaguely amused expression. Others have remarked that the drab colour scheme brought special attention to the Mona Lisa's face, inviting us to engage with her.

Off the topic of Venusians; but Leonardo Da Vinci is also Shatabisha Moon conjunct Jupiter - Shatabisha natives, in true sidereal Aquarian fashion often receive praise for being 'ahead of their time' as Leo was indeed.

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼, 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓷 & 𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮, 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

Purvashadha is said to embody a state of wishing to return to the 'Garden of Eden', where we are one, we are divinely connected in pure bliss, beauty and pleasure. This further explains the Venusian life of oscillating between/existing with the realms of pain & pleasure.

Bharani experiences these themes through its association with 'delayed gratification' & later rewards. Bharani will work hard and go through a lot of pain to reap pleasures later on. Bharani being ruled by Lord Yama, the Vedic God of Death draws a connection between Bharani & facing your karma in your next incarnation.

Purvaphalguni experiences the conflict between pain & pleasure through the realisation that nothing can be 'perfect' and the frustration of knowing that some things are just out of their control. Purvaphalguni experiences the 'royal' quality of the Sun combined with the the sensuality of Venus- these people often take their happiness into their own hands, but run into struggles when they realise they can control themselves but they can't control other people's mistakes & external circumstances that may put a wrench in their ideals.

Purvashadha experiences the pain/pleasure theme through pining for something, shooting for the stars with some usually highly ambitious goal, and then realising all of the obstacles in the way of attaining that goal. However, Purvashadha translating to 'the invincible one' and also having the elephant tusk as a symbol (strong, unbreakable) shows how when Venusians persist in pursuit of their desires, they ultimately are successful and attain that Venusian dream life.

In my mind desire, is a result of the friction created between pain and pleasure. This is why forbidden love is so beautiful yet hurts so badly. Almost every Venusian I've ever met has some intense story of forbidden love- falling madly in love with a cartoon character that doesn't technically exist, falling in love with teachers, falling in love with someone who's dead, falling in love with someone who's an inappropriate choice due to their age, status, culture, professional role, etc.

Perhaps the most infamous story of forbidden love, is Romeo & Juliet. I had to check, & William Shakespeare is most likely (almost definitely considering the range of birth times proposed) a Bharani Sun native. (Side note that he looks kinda like Leonardo, lol)

Amidst these intense themes of romance, tragedy and longing, Venusians are very good at playing a role in their life and showing up to that role, often very ambitiously. However within them is always this gnawing desire to just- be wild and free with their passions without the pretence, without the pressure. This can sometimes express through random outbursts of frustration.

The elitism of Venus can even be somewhat of a defense mechanism. in Venus Nakshatras there is such a deep desire to experience true intimacy and bliss with another human being; that to protect this very human vulnerability they will often design some sort of system to decide who is worthy & who isn't- eg. 'I will only befriend/associate with people who enjoy this type of music'. That way there is always guaranteed common ground & allyship between them and those whom they let in, somewhat protecting their heartspace. In this way, Venusians are 'warriors of the heart' in a sense.

This longing and desperation to be united and feel that oneness, but knowing it may not be possible is often the drive for the art of Venusians in some way or another. The pure angst, the passion.

A lot of Venusians I've observed can develop an almost nihilistic worldview, or can even seem very 'boring' or overly structured on the surface- but ironically, the reason they have this view & demeanour is because they are at their core so idealistic and full of passion that it hurts. It feels easier to just close off the heart-space all together and in some cases express their passion in a strange, or abstract (or in darker cases, violent) manner because society isn't built around beauty & pleasure as much as Venusians tend wish.

This aching to feel alive & dance between pain vs pleasure can be seen in Venusian Nakshatras' tendency to self harm or self sabotage. Venusians can do wild and even dangerous things just to feel ALIVE. To Venusians, pain is worth it if it means there could be a pleasurable outcome.

More on Venusian boredom: one of Purvashadha's symbols is a hand held fan, often a symbol of gracefulness and high society, sometimes used to convey boredom (think of the classic imagery of the beautiful women with unenthused expressions on their faces watching a riveting piano recital).

𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓾𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭~

(Refer to image below)

Venusians often look PAINED lol, the women too but especially the men. Venus men have this distinct look. A lot of the time they can be womanizers or at least pleasure seeking, but also kinda sad and troubled (more of Venus' pain/pleasure themes. In a lot of stories of Venus men, they may be womanisers in lifestyle yet always have 'that one woman' who they really can't get past and regard as their 'soulmate'.

Johnny Galecki , Bharani Sun & Purvashadha Moon - particularly in his famous role as Leonard Hofstadter in the Big Bang Theory. He pines after his love interest, Penny for yearsss, getting shot down but always persisting- eventually he 'won her over' and even got married. (Bharani's delayed gratification & Purvashadha's romantic ambition).

Johnny Depp (what's with these J names?? There's this meme that boys with 'J names' are trouble, I wonder if there's any cosmic connection with Venus Nakshatras lol) Purvashadha Moon - famous for his intense relationships with women (and substances), somewhat of a womaniser as well

Jim Morrison, Bharani Moon - stunning artist & musician of course, also a womanizer who often slept with women on the road, indulging in substances.

Charlie Sheen, Purvaphalguni Sun - in real life & in the show 'Two and a Half Men' where he quite literally plays himself, he is an infamous womaniser with a penchant for substances, partying and destructive forms of pleasure.

My partner was originally in this collage lmao because I kid you not his Purvashadha lookin self fits this collage perfectly (he's got the Jim Morrison beard and the whole shabang), but he wouldn't enjoy being on tumblr so eh.

It's worth noting that a lot of Sun men who are considered attractive to women often have Venus ruled Nakshatras through their chart also. Sun influence without Venus can make men seem very dry and not very understanding of female emotions or psychology, therefore somewhat unpleasant for women to be around.

Bottom line is Venusians, love women! Venus men love women, Venus women love women.

Anyway, as always this was toooo long and like I earlier mentioned, this is the tip of the iceberg on what I could yap about in regards to Venus Nakshatras and their influence on their natives and our world in a general sense.

Thankyou for reading :) 🩷

ps. I'm very wary of talking about planets and the whole feminine/masculine thing because I really don't want to give the impression that there is a certain polarity that is more or less ideal for a gender. It's not as though if you're a woman with Mars or Sun Nakshatras you simply are not feminine, neither does it mean a woman necessarily should be traditionally feminine. be yourself lovely people ✌️

[girlkisser13]

ADDRESSING THE ACCUSATIONS

if you haven’t read the post by @valsverse, you can read it here.

i want to clear the air regarding the accusations being made against me. i understand that this situation has caused a lot of concern, but i need to be very clear: besides the situation that happened months ago (that had already been resolved) i did not engage in any plagiarism. i have also never harassed anyone. the claims being made are false, and it’s disheartening to see someone spreading misinformation about me in the community. i value the tumblr space and have always worked to contribute positively.

The Original Incident + The Resolution of that Incident

as many of you may know, approximately four to five months ago, i was caught plagiarizing the work of a well-known writer in the pjo fandom. when searching for "pjo dating headcanons," @valsverse's posts consistently appear among the top results. after reading her content, i made the regrettable decision to extract her writing from multiple posts and consolidate it into a single post for each character. this choice was both unethical and misguided, and i take full responsibility for my actions.

on june 3, 2024, after being contacted about the plagiarism accusation, i did block the user— not out of malice, but because i was overwhelmed and didn’t know how to handle the situation. this was a mistake, and i apologize for how it may have come across. however, once we reconnected, we did resolve things privately, and I took responsibility for my actions. i never should’ve copied anyone’s work.

regarding the request to take down the post, it wasn’t an attempt to avoid accountability, but rather an effort to move on from the situation. the backlash was intense, and it was emotionally challenging to cope with. it was to the point that i was receiving death threats and messages in my inbox telling me that "my parents should have hit me harder as a child". i appreciate that the post remained up as a matter of principle for the other user, but i also felt that once we had come to an agreement, i was still facing more negativity than i knew how to handle.

since then, i’ve made a conscious effort to learn from this and be more respectful of others’ work. i’m committed to improving and being part of this community in a positive way.

MultifandomBisexual13

with the permission of this account, i have added screenshots of the conversations between their account and @valsverse.

@valsverse has claimed that @multifandombisexual13 and i are the same person. this argument hinges on circumstantial evidence, but it doesn’t actually prove that we are the same person. similar usernames, reposting content, or replying within a short time frame can easily be coincidences, especially within fandom spaces where people often support similar creators and engage with their content closely.

while it’s true that both of our accounts include the number "13," this does not imply we are the same person. as many of you may know, i’m a swiftie, and the number "13" holds significant meaning within that fandom. furthermore, suggesting that i am behind the other account simply because it includes "multifandom" in its username, and i happen to write for multiple fandoms, is unfounded. by that logic, would every account featuring "multifandom" also be attributed to me? such an assumption is both unreasonable and baseless.

she also claims that we share the same "writing style." if using all lowercase is what defines having the same "writing style," then sure, we share that. but by that logic, i also share the same style with the majority of the pjo fandom. does that mean i’m secretly running every single pjo account? of course not— that’s an absurd assumption.

furthermore, i do not know why @multifandombisexual13 only reblogs my posts and why my account is the only one featured in the "check out these accounts" section. however, i want to stress that @valsverse doesn’t have any credible evidence to support the claim that we are the same person. it’s important to avoid jumping to conclusions without solid proof, and I hope this helps clear up any misunderstandings. i understand that @valsverse feels harassed, and it’s fair to address that. however, accusing someone of operating multiple accounts without solid evidence is wrong.

The Anonymous Messages + My Brother's Involvement

so, when i received the screenshot sent to my account, i genuinely didn’t know what to expect. honestly, the reaction i got was a bit overwhelming. yes, i told @valsverse that my brother sent that message. for anyone with younger siblings, you know how it is—sometimes they grab your phone without you realizing it, and things can get messy. it’s not unusual for a sibling to get involved, especially if they’re curious about what you’re up to online.

but instead of understanding that, i was met with accusations and skepticism. suddenly, it felt like i was being scrutinized for having family access to my account, and they implied that it was ridiculous for my brother to have any involvement at all.

the absurdity of the situation was hard to digest. i was just trying to explain what happened, but instead, it felt like i was being painted as a liar. it’s disheartening to see my honest intentions twisted into something malicious. i was being transparent, but all i got in return were assumptions about my character.

and when i tried to apologize after being caught off guard, it only seemed to add fuel to the fire. i felt like my attempts to clear the air were dismissed, and i wish you could all see it from my perspective. i’m just a person navigating a complicated situation with a younger sibling who sometimes doesn’t understand the implications of their actions.

in the first screenshot, @valsverse asserted that i should "either deactivate my account or admit the truth." while i cannot definitively ascertain whether this statement was intended as a threat, it nonetheless raised concerns for me. i want to emphasize that throughout this situation, my intention has always been to convey the truth. i believe in the importance of honesty and integrity, and i hope this clarification sheds light on my perspective. my goal is not to evade responsibility, but rather to communicate openly about my actions and the circumstances surrounding them.

as i write this, i am acutely aware of how absurd it may sound. the assertion that "my brother sent that message" might seem implausible at first glance, yet i invite you to consider that it could, in fact, be true. my brother, who is twelve years old and actively engaged in the pjo fandom, has a keen awareness of the ongoing "drama" between myself and @valsverse. from his perspective, the message he sent to her was intended as a harmless "joke".

furthermore, it's important to note that my brother has adhd, which contributes to his tendency toward impulsive behavior. this characteristic can lead him to act without fully considering the consequences of his actions. given his familiarity with the dynamics of the fandom and his impulsivity, it is entirely plausible that he may have sent the message in question without fully understanding the context or the potential ramifications.

in light of these factors, i hope you can appreciate the complexity of the situation and recognize that the possibility of my brother’s involvement deserves thoughtful consideration rather than outright dismissal.

Summary

to sum it all up, after the resolution of the initial plagiarism incident, i can confidently state that i have not engaged in the plagiarism of anyone's work. the only instances of plagiarism i have committed were specifically related to the pjo fandom. since that time, i have made a conscious effort to create original content that reflects my own ideas and creativity. for all other fandoms in which I participate, I take great pride in the fact that the work i produce is entirely my own. i believe in the importance of intellectual honesty and integrity in writing, and i am committed to upholding these values in all my future endeavors.

i would like to clarify that i harbor no animosity toward @valsverse. in fact, i hold her in high regard as both a writer and a creator, which is, regrettably, a factor in why i plagiarized her work in the first place. i would never condone or encourage anyone to harass her, and i take full responsibility for the circumstances surrounding this situation. furthermore, @multifandombisexual13 has engaged in harassment toward a mutual of mine and has unfoundedly accused her of plagiarizing my work. due to these actions, i blocked her. when @valsverse requested that i reach out to her, i had to unblock her in order to do so.

@valsverse, if you’re reading this (and you likely are), i understand your desire to make this situation public. if i were in your position, i likely would have done the same thing. however, i want to clarify that the apologies i offered— those that you referred to as "pulled out of my ass"— were genuinely aimed at salvaging our relationship. at one point, we were mutuals, and i valued that connection. when you unfollowed me, i reciprocated by unfollowing you as well. i'm not sure why you unfollowed me, but i want to sincerely apologize for the impact my actions have had on your mental well-being. it pains me to know that i contributed to any distress or discomfort you have experienced. please understand that it was never my intention to cause you harm, and I am truly sorry for the damage I have inflicted.

i hope that the evidence i have provided in this post enables you all to draw your own conclusions about me. it is important to consider the context and nuances surrounding the situation, as well as my actions and intentions. i encourage you to reflect on the information presented and assess it critically. ultimately, i understand that perceptions can vary, and i respect your ability to form your own judgments based on the details i have shared. your understanding of my circumstances is valuable to me, and i appreciate your willingness to consider my perspective.

if anyone has questions or seeks clarification regarding any aspect of what i’ve wrote, please do not hesitate to reach out. i am more than willing to engage in a conversations and provide any additional information you may require. your understanding is of great importance to me, and i welcome the opportunity to address any concerns you might wish to raise.

[ludinusdaleth]

one of the most fascinating parts of imogen & ludinus's dynamic is that, despite everything, and how much righteous hatred imogen has of him, and how ludinus is the one who led her down this path: ludinus is the literal only person imogen can act like a child to.

she talks to relvin distantly. she talks to liliana, her own mother, like shes the parent and her mother is the child. id say keyleth is the closest she actually has to a mother figure but it is so circumstantial, and imogen is hyperaware she needs to be on her best behavior or else be treated as a threat. shes the face of the bells as a party, and even if theyre silly and emotional together, she feels she must always pull them together and speak on their behalf, and she knows she will be put down if she turns "bad" by them. her own party.

she can fucking yell at ludinus. she can tease and mock him incessantly. because no one can judge her for it. in the moments shes in his vacinity she acts as though hes a shitty step dad who fucks her mom badly and she mocks aeor in front of him and she mocks that he isnt ruidisborn and shes ugly about it (correctly so). and it is release. she cant do that, she cant rant, she cant break, not to the bells, not to her mother, not to fucking anyone. so she'll throw a (completely justified) tantrum at him so much deeper than any current conflict, it's blood deep, how dare he steal her life and her moms life and how dare he destroy exandria for his plan and how fucking dare he-

ludinus, seeing the visage of liliana's likeness exactly in her child, takes the hits. as far back as c2 we see him able to lower his head at his actions. he at least has enough humanity somewhere that he has capacity for shame even if he will not fix it. he yaps to the high heavens but he allows others to batter him all the same when it comes to how he's hurt them, which i find a very unique trait among his kind of villain. and i think that awareness compounded with seeing the kin of this woman he clearly "loves" (even if insanely badly) is oddly a perfect conduit to imogens rage. he occasionally talks back but he never expresses anger with her - she merely considers predathos for a millisecond and is threatened by the world, but when she mocks the deepest worst fears of ludinus, he holds fast. they are an unstoppable force & immovable object of words thrown as shards of glass. ludinus who claims himself the child and who stole imogens parent is oddly the most parent-like in stoicism against a rebellious childs words, as she descends into being the child she couldnt be . he doesnt even chastise her. he can only look at her despairingly when she wont treat her mother with reverence, not him.

just. theyre so interesting. ludinus and the temults everybody

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Subway Obsessions Arthur's POV ch.1

Arthur Fleck POV x Fem!Reader  

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: From Arthurs POV. It's just another night on the subway. A typical ride on the Gotham train on his way home from a long day of running errands and away from his tedious depressive thoughts. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the woman he could only seem to catch in passing, the woman he’d been secretly watching, following, fantasizing about nightly. Perhaps the unending misery that is the city above had him thinking of change, of something new to obsess about. Something to draw his mind away from the blistering and the mundane. Would he finally get the courage to talk to her? 

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, swearing, stalking, obsession, mentions of violence, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Beginning to a series? Who knows. May add things later. First fic, btw! I'm hyper fixated now, so expect more. This is something I've been mulling around with for a while. I've done this story from both the readers' POV and from Arthur's because I can't get enough!! So, make sure to read both! I loved writing from this perspective so much, btw! Literally! Send ideas, edits, etc. my way!! And be nice please. The first chapter is mostly fluff/ descriptive plot/character building. Cheers! Enjoyyy!

Word Count: 3.9k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions 

CHAPTER 1: Chance Meeting 

Today was another mundane day. Arthur had been out earlier in the evening running errands for his mother. Picking up T.V. dinners at the grocer and medications for him and her at the local pharmacy. Still, getting around the city was a chore in of itself. He figured the subway would be the easiest and quickest way home. It was nearing 10 o'clock pm. His mother would be worried, and it was getting late. He knew the dangers of roaming Gotham city at these hours. His mother used to say, "That's when the colorful people come out." A way to make something serious, completely unserious. Still, he knew the dangers and tried as hard as he might to keep his wits about him. Easier said than done when you're a man with a neurological disorder, apparently so many people hate you for. He wished they’d understood or tried at least.  

He always pondered why the people of Gotham were so... well so mean! Everyone he encountered save for the very, very few were just assholes to him. Perhaps it was the political climate? With Thomas Wayne running for government placement, it probably didn't help. Make the rich richer and the poor poorer he thought. Perhaps it was the state of the city itself, the infrastructure, the lack of resources. He sure has been on the wrong end of that stick one too many times. "Good people suffer Happy," his mother would say. But he never understood why it had to be that way. Life was circumstantial. He didn't ask to have what little he did. He didn't even ask to be born and thought life was the real joke.

It doesn't have to make sense to be funny! He jested internally. Because its fucked! And there lies the comedy for those broken enough to see, yet perhaps healed enough to laugh at the pain. Because, what else can you do?  

His mind wandered through these endless fields of thought when a train car stopped in front of him. He had been standing on the platform disassociating for some time. Perhaps he even forgot where he was for a moment, ruminating over the wrongs of life and playing them out differently in his head. The things he didn't say or do, what he could have done differently... 

The brisk hiss and click of the air brakes as they screeched to a halt brought him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the doors to open. As he did, a disheveled looking figure pushed past him while exiting. He burst out in a cry of compulsory laughter and stepped on the train. He was in the last car and immediately noticed it was bearable, as bearable as riding the subway can be he postulated. 

In his search for a seat towards the end of the train car, he noticed a large putrid looking spill in the back. It melted off the seats and slid across the aisle. It looked sticky. Best to avoid that then, he thought. He opted for a bench seat away from the offending area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, arm outstretched on the head of the seat next to him. No one was in this car except for him. He found a moment of solace and drank it in, filling himself with the noiseless satisfaction of silence and peace when a warbled voice broke over the loud speaker. He couldn't really understand it, but the semblance of words spoke what sounded like “platform 19”. It was all he could understand through the robot whine. He felt anticipation rising within him. 

At approximately 10:15 p.m., the doors of the subway train broke open with a gush of cold night air. At the other end of the subway, he watched as a woman stepped onto the train like a fawn. Scared and unsure of where to go or sit. She was bright and colorful; she immediately caught his eye. Was this what his mother meant by colorful people? He thought to himself. He quickly realized it was her! The girl he had fantasized about daily and nightly, hoping to catch her on the train but only seeming to in his thoughts and dreams, remembering her face, her scent that penetrated her surroundings. He had tirelessly followed her the first time he saw her. She was the only person to smile at him that day. He had to know more and had to know why. But she wasn't always on the same train. He always hoped to run into her and had almost given up, thinking she must have been some sort of hallucination he created for himself to lessen his own pain. But there she was.  

She looked different tonight. She looked like a predator, displaying colors brightly in the face of possible danger. She was a force; he felt the atmosphere change as soon as she stepped in through the steel doors, a thickness lifted in the air and he could feel himself tense in his seat. His clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, his collar too tight, his hands, sweaty. She always looked beautiful when he saw her, she always looked content and comfortable. Hair in a messy bun with strands falling about her face swayed by the wind that surged through the train car. Sweats he could still make out her figure through, leaving him wanting more every time, it drove him crazy! But today she looked like she was straight out of the films on the TV! He thought to himself. She made him think of glamour, it's the only word that truly fit, like the old films he would watch with his mom. Wow! Was she a sight to see, a cool pristine liquid flowing over his burning eyes. A soothing image of pure proclivity. An unknown sense of calm swept over him. 

He watched, frozen, as she cautiously observed the train car searching for a seat. He looked at her from top to bottom. She was significantly smaller than him, petite, probably around five feet three he gauged. Fuzzy black boots, blue jeans tightly hugging her figure, full thick thighs, his mouth began to water - he thirsted for her, wanted to drink in her every essence. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to choke it down. A tight black shirt under a small cropped pink sweater with red hearts all over. It perfectly displayed her large soft breasts. Brown curls bounced about her shoulders as she walked, strands of them fell daintily on her face and cheeks. As she walked, she would flick it away with a quick movement of her head. The way she did that, moving her hair out of her face without using her hands. It made him tingle in all the right places. His mind raced. What else can she do without using her hands? he thought.  

There was something pink in her hair too, he saw as she walked past. She didn't notice him at first. Most people don't he thought to himself. Although this thought disappointed him, he didn't fault her for it. He had the urge to make her notice him. To be a presence and to be objectified by her, he only wished he could hold that kind of power.  

As she passed, the scent he had come to know as her- wafted past him, he sucked in through his teeth sharply. It was heaven on earth. Stimulating. He would follow that scent hoping to find her, mercilessly searching. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac, and he felt his cock spasm. She was eyeing the seats towards the back where that odd spill was. A butterfly he thought. It's a pink butterfly in her hair. He immediately felt like a school boy again, fawning over and wanting to get the attention of the pretty girl and for her to return it.  

"This one's fine!" He blurted out, not really knowing what he was saying. She turned around, her beauty, dark, striking, and he found it hard to speak again. He stammered and was able to get the lump out of his throat to follow up with; "I don't know what that is back there but these are not so bad" his voice felt cracked but he tried to contain his composure, he didn't want to scare her off. He was the only other person on the train, and it must have jolted her since she didn't see him at first. Plus, she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep or weirdo, he thought to himself. There was some truth behind those thoughts, but that didn't make him a bad person, he thought. All day, he spends trying to have a nice day to make himself and others happy, trying to think good thoughts, trying not to let the bad influence the good he can salvage. 

"Oh, thank you!" A sweet voice broke the monotony of thought, and immediately he was flung back into the present. She made her way to the seats laid out in front of him. A row of sideways seating. He watched her sit gracefully, slowly, like a calculated ballet dancer, he thought. Every move fluid, every move perfect. When she sat, she arranged her things on the seat next to her and settled in. He wondered to himself where she was going. Why she had so many bags, why she was riding the subway so late, as a woman, she should be terrified. This city is not safe, especially for someone as strikingly beautiful as her. She was like a beacon of light, too bright to stare at, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and simply couldn't resist the allure. 

She actually sat next to me! He thought. Only one seat away, actually next to me. But that wasn't all. She saw him, noticed him, heard him, and listened to him. The weight of these simple gestures made his hands sweaty, and he tried his best to remain aloof. The doors of the train opened on the other side of her, and a breeze blew her hair behind her and over her face. He couldn't help but see her, every aspect of her. He studied her every move, every inch of her body. He wanted this to last, for this image to never leave his mind.  

The wind that blew past her carried on it her scent. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sweet alluring scent of peach? No. Some kind of berry? No. When the doors shut and the pressure created another breeze, the scent wafted to him again. Taking it all in, he identified the smell as watermelon. Some kind of fruity smell filled his senses with the feeling of euphoria. It was intoxicating. He wondered what it would be like to be pressed up against her, inhaling her deeply. He looked down with a deep sigh when he looked back over. She was moving a strand of hair out of her face and caught a glimpse of her looking at him as well. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she broke her gaze. She was fire, burning too hot near him, and he wanted so badly to play, to burn himself, engulf himself in her flames breathlessly.  

He tried to come up with something to say, anything. How do I talk to her? What would I even say without sounding stupid? He thought. He watched on as the florescent lights above her flickered. It lit up parts of her he hadn't seen upon first observation. Glitter decorated her collar bones and cheeks. Her sweater was slightly unzipped. He could see the peeking out of her cleavage. Sparkling with glitter, so pretty, she reminded him of the stars of the night sky. Unmistakably beautiful, yet so. Far. Away. He had been working up the courage to say something to her, to hear her voice again, he didn't want to forget it. A symphony replayed in his mind. He needed more.  

He stumbled over his words, "Sorry, I-it's hard for me to talk, I meant to introduce myself. I'm Arthur, " he said in the kindest, most unassuming voice he could muster. She looked up and locked eyes. They burned his insides like hot coals. He anticipated her reply, not knowing if she would even engage in conversation with him. "No worries!" She spoke in a reassuring way that made his heart flutter. "I know how it can be, trust me!" She sounded genuine. Kind. There was something underneath her voice, though he couldn't quite conceptualize. Fear? Doubt, maybe? He wanted to take it away.  

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Again, her voice beaming so light and so lifting. She reached out to shake his hand that he had offered. Her hand was small and was practically swallowed by his. Her fingers were warm, sweeping softly over his palm as she grasped his hand in hers. It's a simple thing, he thought. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him crumble inside. She felt so nice! "Y/N," he said. "I like that." He lamented. Such a beautiful name. But everything about her was beautiful. Her presence was wholesome and welcoming. Is this real? he pondered. Thoughts took over again, and not knowing how to continue the conversation, they sat in silence for a moment as he worked up the courage to speak again. 

Moments passed that felt like a lifetime, but he was content in her presence, soaking up her aura. As he went to ask her a question, she moved to speak as well. Catching each other off guard, Arthur profusely apologized "No it's okay, go ahead," he said, not wanting to interrupt her. "No, no, that's okay, what were you going to say?" She insisted back. Her voice was small and mousey, she seemed so shy. Why would she be? She screams confidence and power. Even in her apprehensive movements, she seems calculated, he thought to himself. He stole another glance at her. Her eyes sparkled reminiscent of a smokey quartz gem in a bracelet he once saw in a shop window. A thought of her adorned in nothing but gems crossed his mind. He tried to hold onto the image before it left his mind's eye. He felt a flush in his cheeks again, and his eyes darted. He couldn't look her in the eyes for too long. It made him nervous. He was working up the urge to speak again, to say something, anything.  

He broke the silence and asked, "So what brings you to ride the subway so late at night? Aren't you scared?" He uttered jokingly. After saying it, he felt immediate stupidity. Why would I say that? He thought and started an inner spiral. As if seeing his reaction to his own question and wanting to ease the tension building within him, Y/N said, " Well, I work at the Gotham shelter overnight. So, having to ride the train every night, I guess, I've gotten used to it for the most part. But, yeah, I do get scared sometimes. The city can be super sketchy, and I've been attacked twice already, so I had to buy mace and stuff to try and protect myself."  

The words spilled out of her mouth like a wave of glass, he couldn't fathom her ever saying this of all things, it was jolting for him and triggered something within him he had tried so long to hide. His mind raced. He felt anger and rage well up inside of him it hardened his sternum and burned in his throat. He became stiff but was unaware. The spiraling began to start again. This city was ruining people, hurting people, good people! He thought. She helps people, and then people hurt her?! Pieces of shit! He screamed internally. The emotions he felt were at war within himself. He felt rage for her pain and suffering at the hands of this city's denizens, he felt fear for her life knowing she rides the train every night, he felt regret, why couldn't he have been there to help, to do something? He all but took the pain on as his own, it soaked through to his core. He too had been at the mercy of some of the worst people he has ever had the displeasure of encountering in this god forsaken city, he too had been attacked, hurt, mercilessly tortured by these fucking terrible people.  

Lost in his train of thought and looking straight ahead he couldn't help but sternly say in sympathy "These people are just fucking terrible!" She must have noticed his change in demeanor at this declaration. He suddenly felt a warmth cross his leg, and lightly squeeze. It was smooth and comforting. His concentration broke completely. Pulled out of a trance by her as if the thoughts were just zapped out of his brain. His eyes quickly darted back to her where they followed the length of her shoulder, to her arm, and from her arm to her hand that rested upon his thigh. He felt the muscles in his face relax, his shoulders dropped, jaw unclenched. The sheer power she had over him he thought. The warmth emanating off of her palm was like security, a blanket of nostalgia. He couldn't remember the last time he felt what felt like love, like connection, or attachment. He couldn't help but see flashes of images in his mind, her moving her hand closer to his cock which had began to throb. He tried to brush away those thoughts but they plagued him. She was touching him. Something that never happens to him. He immediately craved her touch, he wanted more, he wondered how that would be possible. He thought this couldn't be real. Not this time.  

Once again, breaking his thought pattern she spoke, and he gave her his full attention. "Yeah, but I'm ok now!" She said in a reassuring tone. Her voice, like petals on velvet. Soft, gentle. "You're here now! And so, I feel safe." Safe? He thought, with me? Like she trusts me? He could feel the negative thoughts start to brim to the surface of his mind but quelled them by responding instead. He needed clarification. The words she spoke just didn't make sense to him. He couldn't see why she would or should trust him, although he so badly wanted her to, for this to be true, he needed it to be. He suddenly felt the urge to never leave her, to always be by her side. He would watch, he would follow, and he would do anything for her.  

He only imagined what it would be like to know her both romantically and intimately. "You feel safe? W-with me?" He spoke haphazardly, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear, hoped to hear. "I do." She looked into his eyes sincerely. His heart leapt into his throat; he couldn't breathe. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to feel her against him. He shifted his legs at the thought. Looking up at him like that weakened him in so many ways. Most noticeably, in his pants, where he tried to conceal the results of his dirty thoughts. "Then I will protect you Y/N" he proclaimed proudly. A shy smile touched her lips and she continued to gaze into his eyes. He smiled back. I make her feel safe, he thought. She is comfortable in my presence. No one even bothers talking to me, no one ever wants to talk to me. He had the urge to speak once more but couldn't find the words.  

Before either of them could speak, the subway speaker rang out once again in that barely audible robotic toned voice announcing the next stop as the harsh brakes squeaked heavily to a stop. As if anticipating her to leave, he just as quickly stood up and offered out his hand. "Thank you," her voice sang. She turned to face him, her small stature looking up at him once more. He held his composure but felt the heat well up inside him. "It was so nice having someone to ride the train with tonight for a change!" She cheerfully exclaimed with a smile.  

She had grabbed her things and had let go of his hand. What sweet bliss it was for the few seconds he had held it. Her fingers, so dainty and soft. The train screeched to a halt, and he instinctively grabbed her hand again and put his other hand at the small of her back to steady her. He could feel the soft curve of her spine. He slowly moved a pinky closer, hoping she wouldn't notice, tracing the line of her jeans as he did, feeling the line of her panty through the fabric. He quickly pulled away as she exited the train. He had held back. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to turn her around, grab her face and kiss her, shove her onto the subway seats, and have his way with her, make her cry out. He wanted her to miss work. He wanted her to quit! He wanted her all to himself.  

This moment was too perfect. It felt like a dream. As she stepped off the platform and began to walk away, he stood as the doors shut, helplessly watching her as she slowly walked. Unable to stop time. As the train brakes hissed and cranked, he saw her stop and turn around. She had stepped to the doors, but it was too late. He watched on as her figure shrunk into the distance as the train traveled once again into the dark tunnel. He waved. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Platform 19. He thought, I'll remember this time. 

[destinysbounty]

Ever since Crystalized came out, there's been this theory circulating that the reason the Overlord somehow managed to manifest crystal power seemingly out of nowhere and with no explanation (at least, none that I can find/remember), is because his fight with Zane affected his power in some way.

The main evidence for this is that:

Zane was the last person to fight the Overlord

Ice is technically a crystalline structure, depending on how it's formed, and Zane is the master of ice

When Harumi was first resurrected, she found the Overlord's spirit imbued into a purple crystal

As evidenced by past seasons, the Overlord's power seems to be influenced by his circumstances and environment in the wake of his last defeat. During Rebooted, a tech center was built over his resting place, and he ended up taking on the abilities and limitations of a computer virus. And in this case, the theory suggests that the Overlord's power was then influenced again by all the ice surrounding him as Zane destroyed both of their physical forms.

This does, to some extent, seem to fall in line with everything else we know about the Overlord. The Overlord is a being of shadow and darkness, and the shape of a shadow will always be influenced by the light around it. (And if we want to get into the theory that the Overlord was created as a result of the FSM trying to purge the oni blood from his veins, then you could even bring up the fact that the oni are shapeshifters sooo).

Now, I'll be the first to admit that this theory is ultimately pretty circumstantial, and there's nothing in canon to point to it being explicitly true. BUT, the cool thing about this theory is that it does also retroactively solve another big fandom mystery: that is, it explains how Zane survived his fight with the Overlord.

Let me explain.

When Zane came back to life after his fight with the Digital Overlord, while it was never outright explained how he did so, it was implied that he came back the same way the Overlord had: by spiritually manifesting within the systems at Borg Tower - specifically, the Digiverse. But that doesn't really answer the question, does it?

Like, the Overlord coming back as a spiritual manifestation makes sense. He's a regenerative being, an immortal abstraction of all the evil in the world. And Zane, as far as we know, is very much not that. So what could have happened to cause Zane, a nindroid, to end up being resurrected in the same way as the god of darkness? Why did he come back to life, instead of passing onto the afterlife? Even Lloyd, the special-est boy in all Ninjago, made a quick visit to the Departed Realm and only came back because the FSM said he could.

And true, it's certainly possible that Zane had a similar encounter with the FSM. Or that his power source is responsible for his resurrection, and just as we may never know how his power source works he may also never know how it brought him back to life. Those are all very possible solutions, and you're welcome to just accept those ideas and move one.

But if you're like me and you don't find those answers particularly satisfying, here's another possibility:

Just as Zane's power has influenced the Overlord, the Overlord's power has influenced Zane. In the explosion of Golden Power that caused both of them to be destroyed in unison, their souls became intertwined. So yes, Zane was meant to die. And judging by his account of the situation in Decoded, he did die. And maybe a peaceful afterlife was well within arm's reach, maybe he was just about to grab the FSM's hand...but then something pulled him back. His soul, chained to the Overlord's dark power, dragged him to the land of the living once more.

And if you really want to get into it, then you could even theorize that this connection ended up influencing Zane's power as well. During the Ice Chapter he was capable of turning people into ice samurai zombie-things kept under his control, as well as creating ice constructs like Boreal. These are not abilities that have been established in the ice power-set, nor are they logical powers for an ice elemental to have. Now correct me if I'm wrong, but the Forbidden Scroll doesn't give you new powers, it just enhances and turbo-boosts what you already have. Which is why it did nothing when Kai held it, as his power had been stolen from him at the time.

(Now before you ask why Pixal could use the Scroll despite seeminlgy not having any powers, there are very subtle implications that she had developed a very, very minor sixth sense due to her inheriting some of Zane's power. If anyone wants me to explain that in greater detail, I'd be more than happy to.)

And yes, Aspheera is also capable of creating elemental zombie/mummy things and other such constructs, but she did all that before she found the Scroll. This is a power-set she had by virtue of her being a powerful sorcerer, not something granted by wielding the Scroll.

And yet somehow, the Scroll did seem to give Zane these powers. Powers that so far have only been exhibited by two people in the series: Aspheera, and the Overlord. So if we submit to the theory that Zane and the Overlord's fight have caused their powers to mix a little, and the Scroll magnifies your power....well, it suddenly becomes very possible that the Scroll amplified some of the dark energy he inherited from the Overlord and awakened some of the Ice Emperor's more unique abilities.

And if that's true, then that really just kinda makes the whole Ice Emperor sting that much more. All of the good things Zane has done, all of his biggest sacrifices, all led to this moment. To him becoming the Ice Emperor.

I dunno. It's just something to think about.

[autistichalsin]

What are some of Halsin's flaws, in your opinion?

Halsin's flaws, personality and others, major and minor (note that some of these are a bit circumstantial):

-He can't control his baser/animal instincts, which comes out in his wildshape issues. This corresponds with bloodlust in his animal form.

-He isn't suited for Druidic leadership, as shown at the Grove, which led to disastrous consequences.

-By his own admission, he focuses too hard on the tasks important to him and lets other ones fall by the wayside.

-Due to the above, he struggles tremendously with balancing conflicting obligations; he didn't bother much with the Grove when he was trying to solve the Shadow Curse, abandoned the Grove when the player showed up (though of course that was also due to his trauma and hatred of the Archdruid role), and if romanced to Karlach, is one of the only ones who refuses to go to Avernus with her, feeling that he and he alone can start the commune for the children and their needs are greater than hers.

-He has a self-sacrificial view about what being "good" is, and feels that he has to be unhappy if he's helping; he let himself suffer as Archdruid for 100 years rather than find someone else to take the role, and in the ending, he tries to break up with a romanced player to start his commune both because of his possible abandonment issues and because he doesn't see room for his own happiness when he's trying to help people.

-As I just mentioned, he does have abandonment issues to a degree; if the player dumps him in the ending, he says he knows nothing lasts forever. If the player suggests the party go their separate ways immediately after the battle, he says it was always destined to be so, but it stings nonetheless. He is shocked when the player comes to rescue him from Orin if taken.

-While he is an extremely kind and forgiving person, he has limits, and once those have been crossed, he gets very vengeful (I.E. everyone involved in his captivity with the goblins, or saying he'd like to "do the same" to whoever killed and stuffed a young bear for decoration in one shop in Baldur's Gate).

-He misreads social cues fairly often.

-He seems better able to assert his boundaries to strangers than to his friends and loved ones, I.E., not having much of a negative reaction to a Lolthsworn Drow threatening to sell him back into slavery.

-Because nature is his way of understanding the world, he struggles to understand things through any other lens. He has little interest in other things that can't be considered part of either nature or his Druidic duties.

-He takes things very literally at times, I.E. the phrase "you can say that again."

-He doesn't bother trying to hide when he doesn't like someone (I.E. if the player has incredibly low approval with him).

-He can sometimes be insensitive on accident, such as saying "imagine the horrors" when they're in a tadpoling facility, to Wyll in particular, though he does apologize right away when called on it.

-He is slow to true anger, but sometimes quick to annoyance, at least where strangers are concerned. (This is more so the case if they question him).

-He infamously doesn't trust Drow, and while this is justified in the case of Lolth-sworn Drow, he is initially mistrustful of the player if they are a Seldarine Drow too (though later he shows far more trust of Seldarine than Lolth Drow).

-His objections to some of the evil things encountered in the game are their unnaturalness more than their evilness, fitting with the Druidic belief that evil is as much a part of the world as good. He is more upset at how unnatural the tadpoles are than anything, at least at first, and if the Dark Urge shows off the Slayer form in front of him, he says it's "most unnatural. Most foul," and says that it only serves death/murder. (It's how unnatural and unbalanced it is that it bothers him more than the form being a giant monster, basically.)

-He has a huge case of hero worship to the player, which is why he falls in love with them almost immediately after they break the Shadow Curse, and has feelings for them even sooner than that.

-He despises turnips.

[tf-lover]

Commission - Undercover Truths

Interested in commissioning me? Check out this post for more information on rules and pricing.

Detective Patrick Walters had been in the game a long time. Having just hit 40, he was still in very good shape compared to a lot of guys his age. By this point he’d watched many formerly athletic colleagues in their youth grow lazy and spend more time behind a desk than in the gym, but not Patrick. He was still in the gym five days a week, working out to keep himself in top shape. He prided himself on it. Sure, most of the time you didn’t get dramatic chases like the movies showed, but there were occasions over the years where his athletic prowess had mattered. And besides, it wasn’t for the job. He stayed fit because he liked how it felt, even now into his 40’s he worked hard to keep his appearance as good as it could be for himself and the ladies he hooked up with.

As a seasoned detective who’d worked his way right up the chain from a new member of the force at 18, Partick knew what he was doing when it came to the job. Living in a big city there were always new cases being dropped on his desk. From murders to drug crime at the extreme end, there wasn’t much he didn’t know how to handle at this point in his life. 

This new case though, this one had been tough. Gang activity, but none of his usual sources had been at all useful, and any evidence he’d gathered so far was circumstantial at best. He’d been on the case long enough to know some shady stuff was going on; everything from drugs to disappearances had crossed his desk; but there was never enough hard evidence to back up his instinct that all the cold cases over the last few months were connected. He knew they were though. He could feel it in his bones, as nonsense of a notion as that was. 

So, as he saw it, Patrick only had one option left. 

“Absolutely not.” The precinct’s chief, a man Patrick had been friends with a long time named Simon, said when he put forward his idea. “Out of the question Detective, I’m sorry. I can’t authorise an undercover mission to investigate a hunch, as much as I agree these cold cases are odd and need a solution, we’ve got no proof the downtown gangs are responsible. Sending you in without a strong reason or proof of their involvement just isn’t something I can authorise.” Simon had an apologetic look on his face as he sat back in his desk chair. “I’m sorry Patrick, really. I wish I could help, but I just can’t authorise an op like this and you know it. Maybe taking some time off would help clear your head of all this? You barely ever use your vacation time, that I could quite easily approve.”

A small smile spread over Patrick’s face. “You’re right Sir, maybe I should use up some of those vacation days.” He turned to leave the office, but paused when he got to the door and glanced back at the chief. “Thank you Simon, really.”

“Don’t know what you’re thanking me for Pat, I’m just approving some vacation time is all.” Simon didn’t give any hint of anything showing through, but Patrick didn’t need him to. “Now get out of here, you’ve got some vacation time to enjoy.”

Patrick nodded and headed out of the office. He was lucky he’d known the chief as long as he had, he’d have missed the hint at an off books snoop around if not. Simon couldn’t approve a full on investigation, but if Patrick could come to him with enough evidence, officially or unofficially obtained, to link one of the downtown gangs then maybe he could launch something. He’d have to be careful though, since he knew there was no protection if he was caught; Simon would have to deny all knowledge and claim he went rogue. 

All he had to do now was finish off some paperwork then he’d be ready to head off for his ‘vacation’. One that, little did he know, was going to be far more life changing than he was expecting…

~~~

It’d taken a couple of days and a lot of phone calls, but eventually Patrick had found an in. He’d hung around the right places and managed to run into a former member of the largest gang in the city, one who let just enough information slip when Patrick had pretended to be someone the guy knew from the gang years ago. Act in the right way and you could get people to think you knew them from a long time ago, a skill Patrick had become fairly good at over the years.

Armed with the knowledge he needed, Patrick made his way to the warehouse district of the city after that conversation. He’d long suspected there was gang activity around these parts, but had never had enough specifics. Now was different though, as now he knew the rough area to check. There were only a few unused warehouses in the southern part of the district below the river, so one of those had to be the one he was looking for. 

The first one was a bust. Picked the lock and slipped inside, only to find stacks of rotting cardboard boxes, filled with products from a toy company he knew had gone out of business several years ago. 

The second of the three ws now in use he’d discovered. When he’d walked up there were a few workers loading furniture into the back of a van, and a quick conversation after pretending to be lost had revealed this definitely wasn’t the place he was looking for. 

All he had left was the third one he knew was abandoned. 

When he got there he was glad to see no signs of life like the second one. No signs of anything when he walked in, not even boxes stacked up like the first. He still had a good look around though, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. And he was lucky he did, as in one of the back corners was a hatch that had to lead down to a basement. As he descended the ladder down he could see a soft glow of some type of light and the sound of a voice, which meant he had to be in the right place. 

A few seconds later he stepped back onto solid ground to find himself in a short corridor with sets of doors along each side and one at the end. It was this end one that piqued his curiosity, as this one unlike the others was slightly ajar and was the source of the sound and pale glow. 

Partick stepped closer quietly and carefully, not wanting to alert anyone that might be inside. The closer he got though, the more he realised it wasn’t a conversation he could hear and wasn’t a light on he could see. It was the same voice saying the same words on a loop of several minutes, which meant the light was probably a TV playing a video on a loop. Why there would be something like that down in the basement of an abandoned warehouse he had no idea, but it was definitely suspicious enough to lead him to believe he was in the right place. 

Once he got to the door at the end of the corridor, Patrick hovered outside for a few moments to make sure he couldn’t hear anyone moving around. When he was sure he pushed his way into the room, gun held low and ready to fire if it came to it. As he suspected though, there wasn’t a soul in sight; only him, the TV as he’d guessed, and the rest of the small room. A table with clothes and a half used pack of cigarettes on, a shower in one corner, and the TV in the centre of the room with a chair in front. It was an odd set up to say the least, and not what Patrick had been hoping to find. 

“This is… What even is all this for?” Patrick mumbled to himself as he walked around. The most confusing part of it all was the fine layer of dust on everything, a sign no one had been here or touched this stuff in some time. “No one’s been here, so why is the TV on? I can’t have been left on for the same amount of time as this other stuff hasn’t been touched.”

With nothing particularly interesting laying around the room, Patrick turned to the TV. He’d largely ignored it until now, but with no other signs of a clue it was the only thing left. It was clearly pretty old, not one of the more modern flat screens by any means. It wasn’t playing anything in particular though, all he could see was a blank white screen that occasionally flickered to black when whatever was playing looped to the beginning. 

Welcome back home Lance, you’ve been gone a while.

The words the voice spoke struck some kind of chord within Patrick’s mind. He wasn’t this Lance guy, but somehow he knew instinctively he was the one being spoken to by the deep voice. A pause later as Patrick moved around to the front of the TV and the voice spoke again. 

Not saying anything? Figures. At least take a seat why don’t you?

Patrick sat down in the ratty chair without thinking about it. Not until he’d got comfortable anyway did he realise he’d just listened to what the voice said. It was like it was talking to him, but that wasn’t possible. Was it? 

“Who are you? What is this place?” He asked, his curiosity getting the better of him despite the logical part of his brain knowing he’d heard all this before in the background as he’d looked around the room. “Can you hear-”

We’re not having a conversation, I just know you well enough to know what you’re going to ask whilst you’re like this. I’m your everything Lance, I’ve missed you.

Missed him? How could this voice have missed him when he didn’t even know who it belonged to? Despite that, there was still a shiver of satisfaction as whoever this man was said that; Patrick was suddenly feeling like he had missed the man behind the voice too. It made no sense, but he couldn’t deny the feeling was there now out of nowhere. 

It sent a jolt of panic running down his spine and Patrick fought the urge to stay sitting in the chair like he’d been told. He wanted to run, get out of here and all the strangeness of this small, dark room whilst he still could, but something deep in his core kept him locked in place.

You’re probably panicking right now. Have a cigarette Lance, that always helps you calm down.

Patrick’s eyes flicked over to the pack on the table. There was a lighter there too he realised, all ready for him to grab and light up. Patrick had never smoked in his life, not even a slight puff on one as a teenager. He hated the things, could never see how someone would want to destroy their body like that. 

He was reaching over to swipe them up before he knew what he was doing. Slid one out of the pack, balanced it between his lips, then flicked the lighter with a practised ease and set the cigarette burning. Two fingers around the end by his lips to keep it steady, then one deep inhale later he felt that sweet, familiar rush of nicotine and a calm wash over him. Lance blew the smoke out slowly as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, letting out a content sigh as he did. He’d missed that feeling. 

Patrick blinked down at the cigarette in his hand as he was about to raise it back to his lips. What had he just done? For a moment he’d lost himself completely. No coughing after what he knew was his first time smoking; the ease with which he pulled one out a lit up wasn’t one he possessed; he definitely wasn’t familiar with the calming high he got afterwards. It wasn’t possible for him to be missing a feeling he’d never felt before, and he absolutely did not know where the momentary comfort with being this ‘Lance’ dude had come from. 

Again.

On reflex, Partick slotted the cigarette back between his lips and took another long, heavenly drag from it. Smoke filled him up, swirling around as he held it inside for a moment to enjoy the sensation before he let it back out in a lengthy blow. 

Comfort. Home. Relaxed. All those feelings swirled around with the smoke as he took drag after drag from the cigarette between Lance’s lips. 

Confusion. Panic. Fear. All those feelings left Patrick as he blew out the smoke each time. 

There wasn’t anything to worry about here, the cigarette had reminded him. He belonged here, this wasn’t some break in, he was just coming home. Each inhale of smoke he calmed down as the previously unknown itch for nicotine was scratched, each exhale Patrick felt more comfortable and at ease letting this voice call him Lance. It felt right, more right than Patrick felt as his name in the current moment. 

Once you’ve finished that off Lance you should get changed. Have a shower to wash off all that hair dye and makeup covering your tattoos, then your usual gym clothes are all there just as you left them. 

Lance looked over at the shower in the corner of the room. He could do with a shower after the long day, even if he didn’t quite know what else the voice was talking about. He ran a hand through his grey hair as he stood up and kicked his shoes off. It’d been brown once upon a time, but he’d never cared enough to dye it as he grew older. He’d never liked the way tattoos looked either, so why the voice thought he’d need to wear makeup to cover something he didn’t have was beyond him.

Nevertheless, he still switched the shower on then stripped quickly and stepped under the warm spray. It felt almost as good as the cigarette had, so much so he unconsciously turned the heat up higher than he’d usually tolerate. There was something about the almost scalding hot water as it rolled down his neck from his head, over his shoulders and down his torso, something that just felt right. There was a cloth and bottle he could only assume was shower gel, so he squeezed a generous amount into his hands and started rubbing it into his skin. Under his arms, over his crotch and between his ass cheeks, then up and over his shoulders and back into his hair, barely an inch of him was spared.

Once he was properly soaped up, Lance turned a little to place himself back directly under the spray and went to work washing it all off again. He barely noticed the grey colour that came with the suds in his hair, or the pinkish tint that sloughed off as he rubbed at his skin. Dark lines appeared the more he rubbed and cleaned, revealing dark tattoos and tanned skin all over his body, just as the voice had claimed. As he washed his hair he watched as some of it fell out and washed away down the drain, leaving it now cropped perfectly short to his scalp.

“When did I…?” Lance hesitated for a second as he stared at his inked flesh when the last of the shower gel had washed off. He didn’t remember getting tattoos… or did he? “Huh, yeah. That’s… that’s my ink. Missed seeing that on this job, maybe I’ll get more to celebrate being finished at last.”

“You did a great job getting into the police so deep Lance, I’m proud of you. Undercover work isn’t easy, but you’re done now.”

Lance smiled to himself as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. It was all coming back to him now. He wasn’t a cop or a detective, he was only pretending to be for the gang to throw off some of the stuff they’d been doing. He wasn’t this perfect Patrick Walters guy, that was just an alias they’d created for him. The memories of that life, growing up into some old guy like that, none of it was real. It was a backstory they’d planned out together. Even now he barely noticed as the memories slipped away, just the important details Lance had to memorise for the job sticking around. 

The location the voice was coming from had shifted too, but Lance was too preoccupied with drying himself off and grabbing his clothes to notice. It was clearer and closer to the door instead of sounding like it came from the TV in the centre of the room, not that it made a difference as Lance pulled on his favourite jockstrap and shorts. A tank top that showed off his muscles and tattoos followed, along with the necklace, backwards cap and earrings he always wore. 

He felt comfortable again now he’d dropped out of the disguise and got back to himself. How the stupid pigs had ever believed some shitty hair dye and makeup he hadn’t a clue, it wasn’t exactly a believable disguise. That and somehow passing for a man who just turned 40 when Lance himself had turned 28 only a few months before the beginning of this undercover stuff; the cops were really all as stupid as he thought they were. 

“How’re you feeling babe? Better to be back?”

The voice that was very clearly from inside the room startled Lance for a second before he looked up to see his boyfriend, who was also the leader of the gang he was part of, stood at the door. He had his arms folded over his chest and his signature smirk on his face, one that always got Lance’s cock throbbing.

“You know I am Raf. Been dying to be back in your arms for months.” Lance said as he strolled across the room. When he got close enough he untangled Raf’s crossed arms and pressed himself up against his lover, their muscled bodies snug together. “You got no idea how much I’ve missed you and myself, pulling off the straight older cop shtick was torture.”

Raf rubbed a hand over Lance’s shaved hair then let them slide down and settle around his waist. “I bet it was, but you’re back to normal now eh? Can get the hell outta here and get shit moving on the next phase. Now you’ve thrown them off us we can expand and take over the smaller gangs, become the big underground name around here. We’re gonna own this city thanks to you babe.”

Raf leaned in and kissed him then. Lance happily kissed back, letting his lover's beard scratch against his jaw as their lips slid together. It was more heavenly than the cigarette, which was something considering how much he smoked in one day. Not smoking or being with Raf had been the worst torture of his life, but it was all over now. He had his boyfriend back kissing him, his life back, everything. 

A few moments later the kiss ended and Raf slid out of his arms. He still held Lance’s hand tight as he pulled him out of the small room and pushed him back towards the ladder upwards, then let go so his lover could move. “You go on up Lance. I’m just gonna clear this place out, then I’ll come meet you up there and we can leave yeah?”

Lance nodded and grabbed hold of the ladder. “Sure thing Raf, I’ll see your sexy ass in the car for some hot sex yeah?”

Raf nodded and smirked again. “You bet your ass I will. It’s been long enough, I’ve missed the way you suck dick.” He watched Lance blush as the other man climbed the ladder out of the small basement, leaving Raf alone down there. He switched the TV off, grabbed up the clothes his boyfriend had taken off to get in the shower earlier, then walked back to the door. “Well Patrick, that sure went off without a hitch, didn’t it?” He said to the empty room before he locked it and headed off to catch up with Lance. 

Raf had a lot of fucking to do so he could make up for lost time, though whether that time was a few months or a lifetime was anyone’s guess…

[andsoigotabutterfly]

-Save me from her - chapter 1

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You and Tara had been circling around each-other for months now, driving your sister insane. What will it take, for you to finally get together?

a/n: I am planing on making a series out of this, which I haven't got a clue on how long it'll be. I am not a native english speaker, please keep that in mind.

!poorly proof-read!

warnings: amature writing, blood, canon-typical violance, swearing, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, tell me if I left something out please!

“Sooo?” Anika leaned before you on the counter; huge smile plastered on her face. ”How did it go?”

You rolled your eyes and stared at your sister. Her eyes were gleaming with anticipation and curiosity. Even though you loved her she was unbearable when she got like this. You told her so.

“Well, you’ve put up with me for nineteen years, so that’s on you. But seriously tell me everything!”

“Nothing happened!” you chimed as you desperately wanted to change the subject. “It was just a normal study session. We started laying out how the project should look like and things like that.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know how we are related…” she huffed, and her shoulders dropped in disappointment. “You’ve been drooling over her for months now! How is it that you didn’t make a move yet?”

“She is scarred, closed off, and has an overprotective sister. And for the record I have made moves. They just… didn’t go as planned” you said and stood up from the counter as you started to make your way to your room to get ready for the day. “Also, drooling is a strong word for how I feel about her.”

Anika raised a brow. “Poor Tara. Mindy told me that they… never mind. It’s not important anyway” she said slowly and taking her coffee mug to her face to take a sip from her drink.

You span around your heels to look at her and stormed to the kitchen’s counter which she was still leaning against. “What did Mind-“ you didn’t finish the sentence as you realized the trap, she laid out in front you, low smile taking over her mimics. You cursed yourself internally for losing your brain whenever her she got on your mind. Which in the last two months was always.

“As I said; drooling” she interrupted then took another sip from her hot drink.

“Out with it. What did that manipulative, smart ass, hot girlfriend of yours say about T.”

She giggled at your behaviour. “I think you meant successful and clever” she was avoiding your question. Oh, how she knew how to get you on your nerves. “The last part I agree with though” she said as her eyes started drifting away, out the window.

“Anika! Focus!”

“Oh, yeah sorry. My mind wandered” her cheeks reddened just the least amount. “About what Mindy said, no way I’m telling you! That would mean I’m abusing her trust. Plus, you know how I hate to gossip around.”

“Sure, you do…” you said knowing very well that her last sentence was a full-blown lie. You rewarded her with your glare that she knew all too well. As soon as she noticed it, she flinched.

“Stop that! It won’t work.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about” you grinned.

“I hate you!”

“I couldn’t care less.”

Anika groaned and tilted her head back. As she looked back down, she caved under your stare and told you what she heard from her girlfriend. After she finished, she added a ‘I promise that’s all I know’ and shunned her head down. With a satisfied smile you patted her shoulder and let her be at the counter.

As you were getting ready for school, a familiar nervous churn got hold of your stomach at the thought of sharing classes with her. What Anika told you was all just circumstantial and didn’t mean much. That girl had you wrapped around her fingers, and she didn’t even know about it. You thought about her sweet smile, her mesmerizing, deep brown eyes her perfect curves. The way she laughed at one of your dumb jokes or the way she smiled back at you across the cafeteria on one of the first days she arrived at Blackmore University. Oh, how you hoped to see that beam of light today too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were deep in conversation with Mindy and Anika about movies when she saw you. Your group was sitting before the university, below the shadow of a small tree. A small breeze blew colourful leaves in the air reminding Tara why she loved Fall so much. As the sun shone through them, it gave you an ethereal glow which made her breath get caught in her throat, your happy-giddy expression making butterflies erupt in her stomach. As she took in your features, her gaze stopped on your lips. Your soft, beautiful, kissable- ‘Snap out of it!’ she thought to herself. As she looked anywhere but you, she realized that she stopped in her track and now Chad was looking curiously at her, waiting on her to catch up.

“What was that all about?” Chad asked with knowing grin on his face as Tara reached him.

“Shut up” she huffed back as they continued their route towards the exit of the building and your table. As they got closer, Tara’s heart started beating faster and faster, her vision tightening down to only you. Your posture, the crinkles in your eyes, your toothy smile. She found everything perfect about you. She was so deep in thought, she couldn’t see a younger boy coming as she bumped into him, breaking her trance. She fell to the ground, hitting the floor. Hard.

As the sounds of her items hitting the floor, reached you, you snapped your head in their direction, noticing her. Then you went red with anger when you heard her pained groan and got up in an instant, marching your way towards the scene.

“I’m so sorry, I should have looked before me, I didn’t mean to knock you over…” the boy started rambling her apologies as Tara slowly got up from the ground gathering her stuff slowly.

“There is no problem, really-“ she started but got cut off by a voice, that had her stomach churning in the most unbearable and pleasing ways.

“You bet that there is a problem!” at your raised voice the whole hallway silenced, listening carefully to the show. “You see, Aaron I didn’t care about you embarrassing yourself in high school when you confessed to your elderly arts teacher, but this? This is worse than when you left the classroom crying after she explained a few things to you.”

“Y/N stop” you could hear Chad’s smirk through his firm voice, but you didn’t care.

“Don’t you know not to be entranced with your phone like a big nerd as you walk through a crowded space? Hell, with this attitude, why don’t you march down the street not a care in the world and knock over your idol ‘by accident’, like you did last time? Who was it again? Oh yes; Tom H-“ you couldn’t finish because you felt her fingers gripping into your arms, calming you down. You looked down at her, her bright smile instantly managing to cool you off. For a few moments you just gazed into each other’s eyes, then you heard a small sob and looked up at the boy.

He looked broken, like a glass that was forcefully thrown at the floor, his eyes gleaming with built up sorrow. Before you could say something more, he mumbled a low ‘Sorry’ towards Tara, then quickly walked off, holding his stuff close to his chest.

You were horrified and frozen in place as you watched him go. After a few seconds, the hallway restarted its usual buzzing. This was when you realized, that almost if not the whole school had heard what you were bawling at him. As the noise indoors got back to its normal heights Chad spoke; “Well, that guys life is over.”

“No its not!” you said quickly. “He… That… This is just a small setback for him! He is a… a grown, charismatic, and lovely human, who had made some bad choices” you managed to stutter out. Then you remembered why you started to call him out. “Are you okay T?”

Her cheeks reddened the slightest. She chuckled lightly and smiled at you. “More than okay, thank you.”

“Then this was more than worth it” you gleamed back and chuckled too.

After you helped her get her things from the floor, you escorted her and Chad to your former company. When you reached them, Anika chose to free up a place and sat in Mindy’s lap, making Tara’s smile grow larger. They were so in love it was adorable.

“What were you guys talking about?” she asked.

“Horror movies” you answered with a dead voice before either of them had a chance.

“Don’t say it like that!” Mindy exclaimed, face showing hurt. “Say it like; Horror movies!” The voice she said it on could be explained as if a character from ‘My Little Pony’ would say it. If they would ever say anything even close to it. “Anyways, I’m just curious so sorry if I cross any line here but how the hell did you know all that about him?”

You shrugged as you sat down, Tara sitting next to you. “It’s what I do. I drink and Iknow things.”

“And you quote things” Anika complemented.

“And I quote things” you agreed. “Looking pretty while doing so.”

As the conversation in the group flowed, you couldn’t help but feel bad for Aaron. Just a little; he still hurt Tara, even if accidentally. Your eyes drifted towards her, examining her again. You were looking, really looking, searching her for little signs that could give away her thoughts and feelings. She looked at peace, was your first thought, yet you couldn’t fully agree with yourself. Her eyes darted away to corners, doors, and windows of the school which you sat before, searching for something, anything. Even in this friendly, harmless banter she was on her heels, and this realization made you furious.

You knew about her past as none of them wanted to keep it a secret. When you first heard the story, it made you just as mad as you were now. How does someone get over a betrayal like that? You couldn’t imagine why someone would try to kill their own girlfriend, especially if that girl is Tara. She was the most pure, kind, and loving person you knew. The thought of her getting hurt made you sick to your stomach.

The group conversed for a long time. Being done with school, nobody had somewhere to be, so you enjoyed your time together. You also rejoined them after you were done with sulking in your own anger, and talked passionately and loudly when someone brought up a topic you were heavily interested in. Nobody noticed as time flew by. You only realized how dark it was getting when Tara’s phone rang. She tensed for a moment, only to relax as she read her sister’s name on the display. The younger Carpenter turned away from the group and picked it up. “Hey Sam!” she greeted and stood, so she may get out of hearing distance, not to disturb you from continuing the debate.

Once she did, Mindy spoke again. “So, movie night at theirs” she gestured towards Tara. “Me and Anika will buy snacks, Chad, I’m assigning you to booze duty. Y/n, you escort your girlfriend home, and we’ll all meet there at eight.”

You rolled your eyes at her comment, but you all agreed on what she said. As you got up from the benches, you heard the brunette say goodbyes to her sister. “Sam needs to stay in late for her shift. She says she won’t be able to make it at least ‘till ten so she asked me to make dinner. I will need to drop by a store from some ingredients” she looked behind you and around. “Where are the others?”

You turned around just to see Chad disappear at the corner of the street. You crossed your arms and huffed slightly. “Mindy handed out the tasks, so she and my sis will probably make out at mine until they have little-to-no time left. After that they’ll find the nearest store, rob it from snacks and meet as at half nine at yours. Chad’s on his drink tour so it’ll take him a while to make it to yours. But at least he’ll be there on time.”

“That is a… pretty accurate picture you painted” she said, chuckling. “Would you care to join me?”

“With pleasure.”

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“What’s for dinner?” you asked as she took a whole sack of onions of the shelf.

“I’m not answering that!” she said, clearly annoyed as this was the fifth time you asked her this.

“Is it onion soup? I bet its onion soup” you smirked behind her, continuing your assault on her nerves. “Do you know it’s one of my favourite foods?”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Stop trying the guess what’s for dinner, I’m not telling you!” she exclaimed, yet she didn’t mean a word she said. You were quite amusing, and your voice was like smooth, alluring jingling to her.

You leaned next to her ear and murmured “Never” before leaning back and continued harassing her, but Tara heard none of it. Your whisper in her ear froze her and had a pleasurable buzz go of in her head. She broke her trance quickly, thanking the gods you didn’t notice what you did to her.

“Oh! Maybe it’s fried onions! That would be a great idea too! Tara you are a genius!” you leaned down again and kissed her cheek, which made her freeze. Again. As she regained control over herself, she quickly put a few other products in her basket and made her way to the cash desk.

“Wait no. I have it! It must be onion pie!”

“Onion what?” Tara asked back. Never in her life has she heard about ‘onion pie’. The cashier made a strange look at you, clearly being at a loss with your words too, as she scanned all the items.

“Onion pie! Don’t tell me you don’t know what it is!”

“No, I don’t” she said sheepishly while paying for everything.

“You need to try it” you said, emphasizing every word. “I swear it’s one of the most delicious things I have ever had in my mouth. Besides onion soup.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll make you one!” you proposed as you made your way out the shop, and slowly proceeded towards Tara’s apartment through the narrow alley of the shop. Small drops of rain started pouring from the sky. “What do you say? Friday evening you drop by me, we watch something you want, and then you try it out. I got the exact recipe from nan, yet I’ve never made it as good as hers so don’t expect no miracle, but I think it’ll still be great!”

“I would love to” Tara started, a grin making its way on her face “but unfortunately my Friday is taken…”

“What have you planned?”

“Movie night with you and our friends in two hours!”

“Oh, yeah right…” you said. “What about tomorrow evening?”

“Sounds-“ she got cut off by a stranger almost knocking her up. You managed to catch her before she would hit the ground. “Ouch!”

“Watch where you go bitch!” he snapped at Tara as he tried to walk away, but you grabbed his shoulder and span him around. “What did you just say?” his breath stank of alcohol and smoke. You knew he was wasted as hell, but you didn’t care. All you could see was red.

“I said your whore shou-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence as you shoved him into the wall left to you, raising your arm to hit him before he could get up, but he was faster than you anticipated. The man launched himself against your chest, knocking you to the ground, straddling you between his legs. Then he started to hit you wherever he could while you effortlessly tried to block his punches. The rain falling in your eyes didn’t help you either. You groaned in pain and after a while, you got a hold of his waist and with the help of your leg you managed to throw him over you.

You quickly got up, to face him once again, but Tara was quicker, kicking him in the chest before he could get up. She moved back and you placed your hand on her shoulder but didn’t take your eyes off drunkard. He didn’t take long to get up, standing before you with a wide, aggressive stance. He reached behind his back and took out a pocketknife. Tara twitched under your hand, and immediately stepped back. “Come here perra!”

Adrenaline coursed through you as you changed your stance and stood sideways towards him, the instructions of your martial arts coach flowing through your mind. Block with the back of your arm, if necessary, grab, pull, strike, repeat. Hopefully without the repeat part, you added.

He rushed towards you, swiping towards you with his knife. You dodged his first swipe left then the one to the right, and his attempted stab. Then you grabbed him by his wrist with lightning-fast movement and pulled him, sending him of next to you. As his body was leaving yours, you hit the man’s armed hand, hard. Not hard enough though, as his wet hand slipped out of your grip, and he didn’t let go of the weapon.

He launched himself at you again, this time making faster cuts. ‘Shit’ you thought as you saw one coming that you couldn’t dodge. You raised your arm so it would hit the back of your arm. You hissed from the impact. The surprise of hitting you made him vulnerable, so you grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm whilst repeating your former actions, this time disarming him in the process. As he turned around, you punched him in the stomach with your unhurt hand, and kicked his feet from under him, making him fall once again. His scalp hit the ground and knocked him out.

Your blood merged with the water on your hand and started dripping off it. You looked down at the wound; it wasn’t deep or wide which was the cause of your bones stopping the attack. “Jesus y/n!” Tara exclaimed as she noticed the cut. “Let’s get you to the apartment. I can get it clean there and then we’ll bandage it up.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were quick to get there, not wanting many people to see you. Tara took the groceries of the ground and started speed walking beside you, her eyes full of worry and fear. Her heart was thrumming in her throat at the thought of losing you. She couldn’t think straight as her mind dictated only one word: faster, faster, faster. Her speed-walking went to jogging, then to running. Your sight was blurry, and your head, ribs and arms hurt but you were able to keep up with her. You blessed your father for forcing you to take those taekwondo lessons, and your coach for not kicking you out even after multiple accidents.

For you had some over the many years you had been attending the classes for your safety. Once or twice during parring you couldn’t hold back against your already defeated opponent, or when Coach Jaehyun, or as you liked to call him; Hun’, called you out to demonstrate a move, you hurt him. You either kicked too hard or made an unpredictable move which had him surprised. None of these mattered as for some reason, he thought highly of you and went out of his way to protect and take care of you. He was one of your closest friends. When you started your training, it was by the side of his father, a strong, kind, and honourable man. After his untimely passing, his son took his mantle as the new coach of the group, and quickly started to bond with you, one of his most successful students.

As you stumbled up the stairs of the building, you cursed, for Tara and Sam of course lived on the fourth level. You hated stairs. They were your nemesis, and never once could you beat them without them wearing you out before. Tara struggled for a moment with her keys, then swung the door wide open. “Bathroom” she ordered gesturing towards it with her hand.

Tara stormed towards the kitchen, searching the drawers for bandages and disinfectant. After she got all, she needed, she rushed after you. Her breath got stuck for a moment in her throat when she reached the bathroom. You took off your shirt, so she could see your bruises. You had them all over your body, as well as a black left eye and an open right arm. Somehow even now, you looked celestial.

She approached you as you were cooling your eye with cold running water and put a hand on you as to sign her presence. “Can I have a look at your arm?” she asked softly. Far softer than she usually was.

Rather than answering her, you stretched your arm out for her to look at the wound. She took it and started working on it gently. Every touch on your skin sent the feel of electricity running through you, making your heartbeat as fast as if you were running a marathon. As she was cleaning the cut you wondered for a second how she knew how to do this. Then you mentally facepalmed yourself. Of course, she knew how to deal with a wound. She would know better than anyone else.

Her heart was beating fast too, which she wished you didn’t notice. When she was done with cleaning, she stitched it up delicately and took the bandages that had been sat down beside her. While covering it, she trailed her eyes over your body. Beside the bruises, it was flawless and gorgeous. Her eyes wondered some more when she noticed a healed and old in wound on your left side. It was long, trailing from the height of your belly button right up, until it reached your armpits. She wondered, what could’ve happened and before she could stop herself, she asked.

You stiffened in her hold closing your eyes for a few moments. “I’d rather not talk about it” you said with a mournful voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No need to be. Really” you said reassuringly.

“Okay…”

Once she finished, she threw the garbage in the trash, then helped you up and out of the bathroom. “Thanks for defending me back there by the way.”

“Thanks for patching me up doc T” you smiled down at her.

“I’ll give you something cold for your eyes and warm for your bruises” she said after setting you down on the couch.

“Wait, warm?” you sat up so she could see the confusion in your eyes.

“Yes” she said smiling. “It helps the trapped blood escape when a bruise already formed, from the area, making it less visible and speeding up the healing. After that you can apply something cold if you want to.”

“I did not know that” you mumbled and dropped back into the couch.

A few minutes later she was back with warmed salt in pouches and beans from the freezer. “Here you go” she uttered and sat down next to you. She gently placed the pouches on the right places and handed you the beans. You sighed in relief when you put it on your eye, muttering a quiet ‘Thank you’ whilst watching her delicately work with your bruises. It felt weird, your eyes felt cold, whilst other parts of your body were warm. Especially your hips, where she kept one of her hands. The heat was radiating through your whole body at the realisation.

You just noticed how close you two were, and it made you forget how to breath. She looked down at you, her pupils widening just the slightest. You could feel her breath on your face, getting faster just a little. She was leaning closer now, her breath shuddering above your face. Her eyes snapped down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. Your beautiful, captivating, deep eyes. She found herself entrapped in them. Your eyes snapped to her lips too, seeing how red they were. Alluring like every of her body parts, and kissable. Oh, how kissable they looked-

You could hear the door opening.

She jolted back, as you also tried, only now remembering that your head was already on the couch. You finally remembered how to breath. Tara felt her cheeks redden and stood up abruptly.

“We’re HERE!” Mindy screeched as they all got in. Why wouldn’t they be punctual the one time they shouldn’t be?

“Hey” you greeted them back, sitting up on the couch, revealing your face.

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Anika’s eyes widened for a moment, then she rolled her eyes, Chad laughed. Your sister marched towards you, clearly irritated. “What did you do this time?”

“I swear it wasn’t my fault!” you started to defend.

“It kind of was” Tara interrupted, smiling.

“Of course, it was, now tell me what happened!” Anika demanded.

So you did. You told the story, of how you heroically fought of three people who were all trying to mug Tara, whilst also saving an elderly lady from the truck that was about to hit her. Whilst your story went on, you got up from the couch and started playing the scene like it really happened. You didn’t seem to be distracted by the fact that your upper body was only covered by a sports bra. They all carefully listened to the made-up story, as they were used to them by this point. “So there I was, grandma in one hand, her groceries in the other, facing off this huge monstrosity of a man. He was about seven feet tall and had the sharpest machete in hand that I’ve ever seen. Then, he lunged at me” you lunged your arm forward as if holding something at Anika’s face. She dropped her jaw, playing along.

“Were you killed?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly curious.

“Sadly, yes” you said, closing your eyes. Then you snapped them open and dramatically said; “But I lived!”

“When exactly did you lose your mind?” Chad asked, before Anika could shut her up.

You stared away into nothing and murmured low, as if deep in thought. “Three months ago. I woke up one day married to a pineapple. An ugly pineapple” you sighed like a lovestruck fool. “But I loved her.”

“That’s enough” Tara cut in, still smiling like an idiot. “I’ll tell you how it really went so I may start cooking.”

“But I wanted to hear how she fought of that giant!” Mindy said pleading with her tone and with her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you but just this once!” you raised your voice and continued the story. Tara rolled her eyes, gave you one last smile then went away into the kitchen to get the dinner ready.

[shwoo]

My very convincing and not all circumstantial list of evidence that the Bugsnax journalist is attracted to Chandlo (It's very circumstantial):

They try to imitate the way he speaks a couple of times, but based on Chandlo's reactions, they just come off as awkward. Journalist: Thanks, Chandlo, you really "slam dunked" my questions. Chandlo: Bro, that's not- just... don't. Chandlo: I gotta be stronger than a Grumpus! I gotta push my limits, ya feel me? Journalist: [Option 1] I feel ya. [Option 2] Word. Chandlo: (looks unhappy) Uh... (squints) I need your help to bulk up. As far as I can remember, Chandlo is the only one they do this to, or even seem particularly awkward around. They also mimic his speech style in a few places in their journal, but it's unclear whether or not they're just quoting things Chandlo said offscreen. Again, they only do this when talking about Chandlo. Do they want him to think they're cool or something? Because it seems to be having the opposite effect.

Look at this piece of art for Chandlo's main quest:

Assuming the Journalist is meant to have drawn the quest art in-universe, that's an interesting choice of framing. His arm is the focus of the image, to the point it takes up more than half its width. That is a muscular arm with some kind of snout guy attached. I know Chandlo has large arms and is always flexing, but still...

Finally, the descriptions for the interview quests all have variations on "time to ask the [occupation name] questions." For example, they call Wiggle a musician, Floofty a scientist, and Cromdo a salesman. Chandlo, though, gets called a "beefcake". They could have called him a builder, like in his profile, or a carpenter or a basketballer, but they went with beefcake.

[my-darling-boy]

Good morning, I hope you're doing well.

I just wanted to start by saying I deeply admire your work, and have found it beautiful, emotive and inspiring.

From what I know, you do reenactments in the UK and I've been wanting to get into reenactment myself for a looooong time, but I've always chickened out because I'm trans (ftm, pre T/medical transition).

It's super refreshing to find a trans person in this scene. I was wondering if you had any advice? Whether that's how to find safe groups, how to find costumes that fit, how to maybe start projects yourself. Any advice at all would be deeply appreciated.

The ww1/ww2 periods are really close to my heart and I would adore the opportunity to explore reenactments for these periods of history in a safe environment.

All the best,

🪖

Ah that’s awesome you’re interested in getting into reenactment, it’s a really fun hobby! Don’t think I’ve seen any advice posts for world war reenactors specifically in your situation; I think “modern” military reenactment with this in mind comes with special considerations, so I’ll do my best to give a loose Survival Guide below the cut if you’re wanting to start. This will be Long, but I’ve not seen another resource on this sort of thing from the trans angle so might as well be specific! These are just my own observations to hopefully give you a bit more perspective on whether or not it’s something you’re comfortable pursuing. That all being said…

★ In the case of being trans, especially without medical transition, I HIGHLY advise against doing this hobby completely stealth, it’s just not a good idea. For many events, you camp in the same tent/room with lads your age to men 60+ and may have to change in front of them. Even in the event there is space/bathroom to change, it’s sometimes only a single stall crawling with spiders as a lot of re-enactments are in a little village in the middle of nowhere. If it’s not your own group that could cause problems upon circumstantially finding out, it could be another reenactor or member of the public. If you bind or pack, you have to get the things on and off secretly around so many people you don’t know. Some events are in other countries. For a lot of events, there isn’t any cell service so in the off-chance something goes wrong and you have no one to help you…. You’re Cooked.

★ Transparency to some capacity is best. Whether it’s just a couple group members that know or the whole group knows, someone’s support is your greatest safety net. If you find a group you want to trial, I recommend first shooting an email rather than meeting face to face. Ask if they’re looking for new members, if they already are, that you would be interested in a trial. Add that you’re trans and you want to know if this is an issue, there’s really no other way to ask this. It’s complex, but really they’re not allowed to tell you no on grounds of discrimination, however you can gauge how accepting they are by their response. If they’re suddenly not looking for new members or they play email tag over weeks with no clear answer, pass. Being upfront about it if you’re pre-everything will save you wasting time on groups who don’t want to work with you.

★ Research local regiments/groups you want. Searching near your county may mean you won’t have to travel too far for events, but not always. And you don’t have to stay local, I find groups accept members from just about anywhere in the UK, even outside it sometimes! It’s also good to have some research done on the regiment/battalion you want.

★ Next, big, very important: World War re-enactment is a very Actual Military dominated hobby, and you’ll be exposed to all that entails. I say this to give you a heads up as to the social environment you’re entering into which not many trans people may consider. There’s no way to engage with this area of group reenactment that is completely divorced from the genus of the military as it exists today, even for historical education. The groups I’ve met as well as my own are comprised mostly of veterans, people currently serving, or those from military/first-responder families. In my own observation, world war groups feel more like off-shoot capillaries of the military as opposed to doing something like medieval reenactment or a Jacobite. They are run, funded, and supported in full or part by current/ex military members and organisations. Now obviously it’s not the real military, you’re not enlisted, you’re not going to get court-martialed if you do something wrong! However, these groups try to hold themselves to the same professionalism that you would get if you were actually in the forces cos you’re portraying someone in the military—albeit 1916–who would’ve held themselves to the same standards. There’s fun, there’s jokes, but you stand up so straight on inspection that it’s uncomfortable, eyes front, you never fool around with a weapon, you do what you’re told, and you try to help out every member as best you can cos you’re a unit. It’s a balance between being serious and fun. I know I’m silly outside it, but once I’m on site, it’s time for more discretion. You’re first and foremost an educational historical actor, and as such you’re required to conduct yourself in the public eye as a service member—someone’s ancestor—representing a real regiment that more than likely still exists. This is not a Ren Faire environment. A reenactment group does not exist in a vacuum and neither do the world wars. Not every group is as connected with the Real military as others, but this is just a Heads Up in case interacting with these entities contributes to making you feel “unsafe” in your position.

★ There is also that complicated grey area of how even the most progressive group still exists within a network of current systems which are traditional and affects the way that group must present itself to the public and their Real Military Counterparts they are inseparable from. World war reenacting is still deeply intertwined with current forces and old tradition because the wars and their decades are still within collective consciousness and still hot topics of discussion. Some people really take issue with trans people in the hobby, we all know this, so even as supportive as a group may be, many choose for safety to be on the DL when engaging with other hobbyists whom you don’t know (outside of your group). I personally don’t know any other trans men active in WW groups, though I know they’re out there. That alone should give you an idea as to how Quiet we keep it for safety, even if, bless them, our cis group mates would gladly tell someone off for being transphobic. Though having to be on the DL to anyone outside your group at events for someone who is pre-everything can be anxiety inducing. It’s why I say it’s for your own benefit that at least someone in your group 100% has your back.

★ Lads love teasing each other and will tease you, with love, but don’t be the doormat for anything transphobic. As is the case with the real military, jokes/teasing is an integral part of the camaraderie and as I said, lots of people doing WW reenacting are current/ex military. Short jokes @ me are common, they’re made with love, it’s not transphobic or malicious. While someone messing with you is common cis male bonding, don’t hesitate to tell someone steady on if they go over the line or they’re genuinely being malicious before you go to the sergeant with a formal complaint. It’s usually an immediate apology and then never doing it again. And as said, don’t let transphobic teasing slide. If there is any phobic joke that could fly under the radar to someone not privy, it would be jokes equating you with someone called “Bob” so if you ever hear that one—if you don’t already know what that means—definitely bring that up to someone!

★ A tip for cis male dominated spaces: self-confidence, optimism, and a general good nature will get you far. Being extremely, constantly awkward or aloof from dysphoria or fearing cis men will tend to get you “othered”. It can be hard to be more vocal or confident if you’re anxious not having had many dealings with cis male social groups, but my advice is to try to be as casual as possible, shaking hands with eye contact, going about your business, and Being Normal about guys walking around half naked in the mornings or accidentally catching sight of your mate’s bits. Generally, if you’re not Weird about them, no one’s Weird about you!

★ It’s also a mutual respect-based environment. As long as you’re mature, level, putting in the effort, are quick to learn, friendly, and doing your bit in the group, chances are you will get along with everyone fine and they will get along with you regardless of anyone’s politics or beliefs, which I think is most trans people’s fear for this hobby. Everyone is aware infighting and heated debates over anything can destroy a group or bring harm against yourself or your mates, which is why I’ve found if you simply say you don’t feel comfortable talking about something, people back off cos they respect that. Trans or not, if you’re abrasive or egotistical, just like any social situation, respect for you goes down.

★ People are more than happy to impart knowledge, there are lads who could easily talk for hours about one thing if you get them going so don’t be afraid to ask questions! If you’re nervous about asking someone for help with drill, kit, etc it’s less “How do you not know this?” and more “I’m SO glad you asked!” It’s sort of like having a group of brothers for the weekend, always teaching you something. I find reenactors can never pass up an opportunity to thoroughly explain something (myself included) and sometimes even unprompted will just point to something you’ve got and start telling a story about it. Everyone, even elder members, learn something new every event

★ In terms of clothing sizing, I’ve got stereotypical male proportions (bar my height) so I can’t speak much from personal struggle on this one. Most modern-made reenactment gear is quite amply sized, which is fine if you’re larger but is a pain if you’re smaller. Most groups will have spare kit in diff sizes you can borrow on trialling them, and there are good videos on YouTube to familiarise yourself with all the parts and how to care for them, and of course you can ask me here as well. If you want something yourself, everyone and their mums starts out with Soldier of Fortune these days, and owning your own trousers/tunic of course means you can tailor it if need be. You’re also looking at around at least £600 for a relatively complete kit, but tbh it’s easily over £1000 weapons and extras included.

★ On clothing, maybe it’s cos I’m short, but your grey flannel is your best friend if you have to get changed in front of someone and don’t want them to see your Downstairs. The greybacks are quite long I find, so as long as it’s on, you can change trousers and sometimes even undergarments without flashing anyone.

★ On getting changed: always try to be the first to get ready, it doesn’t look weird, you just look on top of things! Do a bit of recon when you can about changing spaces and the toilet situation cos you might be able to get creative where you change, including in your sleeping bag. It’s good to try to get at least an undershirt and bottom half on before the group wakes up, you easily put on tunic and boots and the rest alongside everyone else. You might even find you just end up sleeping in kit, sometimes we do that. Getting to the toilet first also means you not only avoid being late for inspection trying to sort yourself, but you’re not after the lad with the Least Desirable morning routine (and believe me, there will be at least one, if not more).

★ Though sleeping in the same space and getting ready around each other is usually expected, it’s not mandatory. For some multi-day events, it may be possible to go home and come back the next morning so you don’t have to sleep/change with the rest of the boys. It’s possible to show up to events already kitted and leave kitted so you don’t need to change at all. If you’re all staying in a hotel, you can get a separate room or if everyone is staying at camp, you can stay in a local inn if there is one. If you’re under canvas, you can always bring a separate tent and sleep by yourself. HOWEVER, because sleeping together (and drinking till 3 AM) and getting ready polishing brass or making breakfast is a Group Bonding Experience just be aware you’ll miss out on that bonding if you go off alone a lot or cut events short to go home/come back, if having more bonding is particularly important to you!

★ If you’re binding, it’s worth noting depending on what exactly you’re doing you carry anywhere between 20-50 extra pounds on your person. There is decent physical activity, you are with equipment on your feet for most of the day, and hobnail boots are not the most comfortable. Being in an entirely wool uniform on a baking, humid day in a binder would be absolutely bloody miserable. You would have to take the binder off after all that lest you hurt yourself. Also, if you join a Highland Regiment, it is not a good idea to pack. And I’m not talking about your kit bag. If your Swagger Stick falls out on a demo in front of hundreds of families, there is no coming back from that, there really is no room for Oopsy in that scenario, it’s not worth the embarrassment!

★ As for starting projects yourself… that’s a tricky one. If it’s like a little reenactment group, that’s a massive undertaking, I could write a novel about that alone and the money and insurance and complex social things that would involve. There are ways you can do solo reenactment for educational purposes, though this requires having a relationship with whatever venue is hiring you such as a museum. While doing a scout or medic would be easy enough, doing a fully kitted infantryman would be a bit harder. If you have weapons like a rifle or bayonet, you need a permit to carry them. Solo reenacting also requires you to know A TON of information, not just about the war, but the surrounding time period give or take 20 years, your entire kit, gear, and loads of other things.

★ In conclusion, as intimidating as this can seem to navigate around cis men as a trans man for (potentially) the first time in a very military, traditionally masc environment…. I think as long as you come into it with the same attitude as any young man would at the time, you’ve got pals to back you up, and you try to be cheery and do your bit, you’re likely to do just fine and have fun! I know reenactment can seem like the straight white old male phobic hardcore conservative hobby, but it is a really rewarding experience as long as you take some precautions, there are some genuinely lovely people in it, eager to pass on their knowledge. If you feel a group is not a good fit, you can always leave, and there will be other groups who will be more than happy to have you. While I can’t say I’ve met any trans men in my time doing it, I’ve at least met some other LGB reenactors who are really lovely and very supportive.

Hope something here puts your anxiety at ease, or at least doesn’t make anything worse! If it’s of any comfort, I think groups as a whole are becoming much more supportive of LGBT+ members. I think the coming generations that are starting to have more active involvement in this area of reenactment look to be making it better for LGBT+ people to participate in historical education and overall hobby engagement.

Cheers! x

[its-all-stardust]

Guardian Angel

Masterlist

Joel Miller/GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Prompt: Sometimes guardian angels don’t have a lovely singing voice and a set of fluffy wings, sometimes they have a deep frown on their face and a very bad attitude. (from creativepromptsforwriting)

Notes: this was meant to be a lot shorter 🥲 (not that it's technically long, but still). this is me attempting to write shorter fics/prompts as a way of refining my writing for oneshots so they don't drag on. this fic isn't anything special/impressive, but exists as a writing exercise.

You never considered yourself useless, but you were pretty sure Joel Miller thought you were.

He came to Jackson in the spring with a teenage girl in tow. He said she wasn’t his daughter, but everyone could see the relationship all the same.

Joel got put to work right away. As a right of passage for anyone looking to go on patrol—one of the only things Joel was truly interested in—they shadowed you in the stables. You’re technically not Jackson’s stablemaster, but you had the best attitude when it came to training newbies on how to handle and take care of a horse.

You were a good teacher and had the patience to deal with both an angry rider and their annoyed mount. A talent few possessed, so you’ve been told. Your bright attitude, helpful nature, and unwillingness to give up truly allowed you to flourish in your role.

“Have you ever worked with a horse before?” was the first question you always asked a resident who hadn’t come from Jackson.

“I’ve ridden one before,” Joel said, his voice low, like he didn’t want to be heard.

“Okay, but that’s not what I asked.” Riding a horse was different from working with it, trusting it. You couldn’t race along the paths around Jackson, running from or chasing Infected if your mount’s instincts differed from yours.

Despite how gently you said it, the words still made Joel frown and eye you up and down like you’d lost your mind. He hadn’t said anything, though, so you counted it as a win. 

A couple of months later, Joel still greeted you with a scowl.

He’d graduated from stable work, riding and caring for his horse with ease, having become one of your top students. You still saw him at the end of every one of his rounds when he returned to the stables.

You tried not to take his gruff demeanor and permanent frown to heart. Despite his apparent dislike of you, he’d never actually said anything rude or condescending. He was always polite, even with his lack of interest in conversation. No matter how hard you tried to pull him in, get him talking, the most you would get was a word or two amongst the volley of grunts that typically served as his answers.

You kept talking to him anyway because, well, he never told you to stop.

The times you got him to talk, though, were always circumstantial and more often related to something you were about to do or something about to happen to you.

“Watch it,” Joel called, grabbing your arm and yanking you away from the carelessly tossed shovel left near one of the stable doors. “You gotta look where you’re going.”

You knew the stables like the back of your hand; you didn’t need to look up to see where you were going—at least, you never thought you did. You were focused on the torn harness in your hands, examining it and wondering if it could be salvaged or if it was better going into the scrap pile. The last thing you were worried about was watching where your feet were stepping.

Startled by Joel’s sudden outburst and handling of you, you stared at him wide-eyed for a moment before noticing the shovel. It wasn’t anything major; the most that would have happened to you would have been your foot catching on the curve where the wooden handle met the metal. You were around horses all day, every day; you’ve experienced worse than a stumble from a shovel.

Nevertheless, you wholeheartedly thanked Joel.

“I really should,” you said, smiling at him. “But my mind is always somewhere else.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said under his breath.

And it continued like that for months. By the end of fall, Joel always seemed to be there, rescuing you from things that wouldn’t have amounted more to a bump or bruised ego.

“Don’t hit your head,” he said when you tried to stand too soon after crawling under a table chasing after a runaway buckle for the harness you were repairing. Joel’s hand had been hovering over your head, and when you tried to rise, the back of his hand scrapped against the table. 

You thanked him again and politely didn’t say anything about why he felt the need to suddenly crouch at your side to save you from some scrapped skin.

“Like this,” he said when he saw you trying to repair a stall wall. He took the hammer from your hand before you could say anything and promptly started hammering the exact same way you had been. “Gotta move your hand once you get the nail in so you don’t hit yourself.”

“Thanks…” you said awkwardly, less enthusiastic than all the other appreciative words you’ve given out. The man had apparently never seen you do repair work around the stables in all the time he’d been in Jackson.

“Let me,” was said when you were mucking out the stalls. You had the wheelbarrow full and were about to take it outside when Joel stepped up. That, you were fine with him handling, but part of you wondered if he thought you were incapable. Did he really think shoveling shit was beyond you?

It was all, admittedly, a little much.

You didn’t usually get annoyed at people. No one quite got on your nerves enough. And if they came close, you were a master at redirection—either of their attention or your work—which helped to avoid much direct conversation.

Joel, on the other hand, was like your shadow. No amount of running or insisting you didn’t help couldn’t keep him away from you. There was even one instance where you thought he was on patrol, only to turn around and see him staring you down from the stable doors.

Then, one day, one of the horses returned from patrol with a nasty scrape on its shoulder. It had slammed into a tree during a chase with a small group of Infected. The rider managed to get it back to Jackson okay, but once it was in the stable, the stallion started fighting back, not wanting to be touched.

All the horses in Jackson trusted you more than they trusted any of their riders. You figured you’d be able to calm the beast down so he could get treated. 

“Woah, woah!” you called, hands raised in front of you, and you stepped back as the stallion, Ash, reared up. “It’s okay, you’re okay, boy.” You kept your voice soft, gentle, after screaming at everyone around you to keep quiet. Loud sounds weren’t going to help a skittish horse.

All four legs down on the ground again, Ash was still wide-eyed, chest heaving. He realized he was surrounded, looking around and stamping his feet at the circle of people trying to wrangle him. One of the other stablehands, thinking he could lasso the stallion, got too close to Ash’s rear. Ash spied him and kicked out a back leg, nearly catching the man in the chest before he stumbled back just in time.

After that, you waved everyone away. You thought nothing of the new shadow in the doorway behind Ash.

“Now, now, I’m not gonna hurt you,” you continued to soothe. You said nonsense a horse couldn’t understand, but you needed him to hear your voice, recognize you, and realize he was safe.

Ash’s breathing steadily started to even out, and you braved taking a step closer. He was still in his harness, the reins hanging down. If you could grab it, you could lead him back to his stall, giving him more time to settle away from people and other horses until he could get treated.

But Ash wasn’t as calm as you had thought. Instead, he had apparently been readying himself to lash out again.

You didn’t see it, not until it was too late, until you were too close. But someone else did.

“Move!” A voice shouted just as Ash reared up again. The next thing you knew, you were tackled to the ground, a loud grunt of pain sounding in your ear just before you landed.

There was shouting and Ash neighing, but you could only focus on Joel.

He hovered above you, staring down. “Are you alright?” he asked, voice strained. Ash had kicked him, you realized. Ash would have kicked you square in the chest if Joel hadn’t intervened.

His brow was furrowed, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or concern for you.

“Are you alright?” You sat up, needing to check Joel over. Depending on how hard Ash got him and the angle, Joel could have had a broken shoulder or ribs.

“‘M fine,” he said, trying to brush you off. He kept staring at you, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out and touch you.

“You just got kicked by a horse, Joel.” You gently touched his right shoulder and caught him wincing.

You heard Ash squeal then and tensed, preparing for another outburst. But, thankfully, the others had finally caught him. He wasn’t happy and still struggling, but they were able to lead him to his stall, where they could leave him until he would let someone approach and tend his wound.

Able to breathe a sigh of relief, you turned back to Joel.

“Why did you do that?” you couldn’t help but ask. You were pretty sure Joel disliked you at best. What would have made him take a kick from a distressed horse for you?

“Someone has to watch out for you,” he said, somehow looking both inconvenienced and…shy.

You stared at him, stunned, unable to move even as he stood and held out his hand.

Joel Miller couldn’t…

Could he?

You took so long to do anything, Joel started to drop his hand. Your hand quickly shot out, grabbing his in a death grip. As he pulled you to your feet, pain flashed across his face. He used his bad side to help you.

Without letting go of his hand, you said, “Let’s go get you checked out.”

Joel’s protest died on his lips when he saw the look on your face. You wouldn’t take no for an answer.

After that, you let Joel take care of you however he saw fit, and on occasion, you returned the favor.