#non binary protagonist

[egotenebrisper]

RAESSAN

Raelyn + Ghassan

(she/they) (they/he)

Picrew by elenaillustrate

[thicc-astronaut]

Sitcom about genderqueer roommates, Person A uses he/him pronouns exclusively, Person B uses they/them pronouns exclusively, and Person C uses both they/them and he/him pronouns. Persons A, B, and C get up to misadventures together from their combined bad luck and poor decision-making, and usually some innocent bystanders end up wrapped up in their antics.

Running gag through the series is that whenever the police show up, they misinterpret all the reports of “he did this” and “they did this” and think that Person C is the sole perpetrator, no matter how implausible it is that one person did all of that.

[bubbles-the-banshee]

I love picrews! Introducing Mage Eliott Fauve (they/them) and Spymaster Rowen Erzsebet (she/her) from my novel in progress, Goddess Dead 🖤

[wanderingspirt47]

Guess who my favorite character is.

There’s this book written by C.E Simpson called 8th grade witch and I am  Obsessed with this book.  it’s a choose your own adventure book. The main character name is rabbit, there non binary. The red hair girl name is Astrid and I love her. The book has 28 different endings. I love everyone in this book so please give it a shot.

[flowersandcitrus]

Quotes from my story

“I’m not so sure why my paranoia kicks in now, for I know that the monsters on earth take to the cities, I, of all people should know; for one has taken me as their spouse before.”  - Chapter One

“‘No - I would rather bear the wrath of these wilds than be with that irascible man a second longer. Although I had wished I had time to say goodbye to him, the one person in that wretched city, I could have trusted.’” - Chapter One of TDITW

“Oh how much I've hated the silence - when the only thing left to occupy your mind is your own twisted thoughts. Oh how wrong they were, those thoughts, but not much could ever block them.” - Chapter One of TDITW

“Like an abandoned dog, I await eagerly at the door, a glint in my eyes as I perk up at each and every noise that comes from outside the tarnished door, as I patiently await his return.” - Chapter One of TDITW

“I’m always the object of people’s sympathy, and I wish it wasn’t as such, a broken person with nothing left for them, I hate the offerings and favors people give me. This guilt is the trickiest pill to swallow above all else.” - Chapter Two of TDITW

“It's a shame we had to fear those set in a place of power to protect us.” -Chapter Five of TDITW

“ Were we just cat and mouse, a predator and its prey?” -Chapter Seven of TDITW

“Everything had layers, time itself, including that wretched man. He carried more layers than you could count by the rings in a tree's trunk.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“That's what he made me. Curious to feel what it meant to truly be loved. To be loved is like birdsong. Whenever you get close enough, the singing will abruptly stop and the birds will take flight. But what happens if the singing continues even after I get close? What would happen if he was really in love?” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“You know what they do to boys like us.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“Is it really so hard to believe that your son dawns a love for another man?” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“My time will come soon enough, less years to serve in prison.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“What does the bible or sins have to do with who another man or woman (or someone somewhere in between) loves? Why can only straight people love who they want, why can’t I? And damn the consequences for my actions.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“Tragically beautiful was he, the man in front of me as he tells me of his beginnings.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

 “I think you’ve made what you could have given that the law is discriminatory towards people like us.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“The sun was rich in the sky against a vibrant mess of blues and orange hues in the midday sky but something darkened the world's hold on the lonely pair.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“For most of my life, I was treated like some piece of meat, something to be discarded after it no longer suits your needs or after it has sated your appetite.” -Chapter Eight of TDITW

“Perhaps it's a trick of the light, but as he reaches for my hand, he looks almost desperate, like this was his last chance to say it; like it was now or never.”  -Chapter Eight of TDITW

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Reasons to play In Stars and Time: Canon Pronoun Warfare.

[sarielsnowings]

Clownsona who? 🃏🎪✨

Also here are some extra concept doodles.

I think they’re cute.

You’re welcome:

[queenjulia11]

Re-listened to the whole first season yesterday (because I’m chill and normal about my interests) and wow is Phineas the perfect example of how toxic masculinity completely changes a person.

In his introduction, Phineas does exactly what he needs to in order to get the job done. He doesn’t use excessive force, and is able to solve the problem without anyone getting hurt. In any other world, this would be impressive.

Spahr is proud of him, but reminds him to play it up more for the media. Okay, noted, he’ll do better next time. He did exactly what was asked of him, just not in a manner that makes The Trust sound badass and cool to the kids listening back home.

He doesn’t break even — sucks, but no time to be sad about it! Here’s Backpack with her microphone! Look on the goddamn bright side, Phineas!! He still feels his feelings, but does way more than he should to cover them up around other people.

The gala goes well for him, a much needed confidence boost; he takes pride in not accepting handouts. But he doesn’t just say “no thank you,” like episode 3 Phineas might have, he’s offended that Mr. Loxlee expected he would want his help. That would make him weak. Mr. Loxlee clearly just doesn’t get it. This righteous reaction to turning Mr. Loxlee down says more than I realized at first about The Trust’s propaganda that Phin’s been consuming literally since childhood.

Then Spahr basically tells him to stop having social anxiety. Phineas has been feeling so many emotions, asking himself so many questions, trying to put on the Starship Troopers G.I. Joe face this entire time — looking for the answer. Looking for a guiding light to tell him how to be who he’s been told he’s supposed to be. And what answer does Jonas Spahr give to sweet, mild-mannered Phineas Thatch?

Don’t show weakness.

Or else he’s out. Last warning. Is it really that surprising Phineas lashed out against Sherman the way he did?

Spahr is certainly surprised — woah, this is not what he meant. But regardless of his intentions, this is what he fostered. This ruthlessness. This cruelty. This Adsecla who Phineas never would’ve seen himself as back in episode three. “An impulsive fucking idiot.”

“Phineas sees Jonas Spahr. But Jonas Spahr does not see Phineas.”

In more ways than one.

And after finally doing as he was told (to the best of his understanding), Phineas’ mentor, his hero abandons him. He didn’t want to, he never meant for it to go this far. But Phin doesn’t know that.

And now here he is, chewed up and spat out by the system he was born into. After following all the rules, he has become one of the indebted former trustees he was tasked to hunt, with no hope of ever getting back to where he was — let alone breaking even.

This is what propaganda does. This is what toxic masculinity does. This is what a cult does. And it doesn’t happen in a way you can easily see, it slowly simmers until it boils over into something unrecognizably sharp.

Oh, Phineas. I’m rooting for you, buddy.

[madhogthymaster]

This is Not a Review of In Stars and Time

Let us set the stage.

An entity known as The King has cast a horrible curse upon the land, freezing people in time. It's up to the Chosen One and her friends to save the day. After a long journey, the party arrives at the final town right before the final battle with the final boss. He awaits the heroes at the final castle which was once the house of worship to Change Themselves.

You, the player, are the second to last party member (who joined right before the cute mascot character) and you find yourself "blessed" with the symbolically relevant ability to loop in time - which you discovered after being suddenly crushed to death by a big rock with a sense for dramatic irony. Now, admittedly, the prospect of dealing with Groundhog Day related shenanigans might seem daunting, at first. Dare I say, it might even be emotionally and psychologically taxing, in the long run. However, do not panic! A volunteering social worker has already been sent to "assist" you with your predicament. You can trust them completely.

Now that we have dispensed with the formalities, let's get down to business to defeat The King. Use your newfound powers to help your friends navigate the castle, climb the floors, overcome the obstacles. Be ready to repeat all that several more times. You know the drill. Perhaps, if you do everything right, your buff boyfriend will finally confess his feelings to you.

Wouldn't that be swell?

Wouldn't it?

It would be nice.

It sure would.

...

There will be no additional plot synopsis, at this time.

As I type these few words of appetizing anticipation, I find myself in a predicament of my own: I played In Stars and Time and now I have to talk about it. I have many emotions swirling, dancing incoherently within the very fabric of my being. Feelings that I must convey to you before The Moment passes, you see. I'm not sure I can, though. I'm not sure I can steel my trembling hands for long enough to wax poetically about this being, without hyperbole, one of the best games I played in the past decade. A masterpiece with many juicy layers waiting to be peeled back, one by one. I don't have the energy to write the monstrous essay it deserves for all I want to do is sit in a corner and weep quietly for a few hours, trying to process it all. I'm sad not because it's over but because I can't experience it for the first time ever again. Which is an ironic statement considering the nature of this game, I realize. Allow me to try this again.

Let us set the stage.

In Stars and Time is is a cleverly designed title. The time loop structure works both as a gameplay and thematic device, a means to (purposefully) emphasize the monotonous nature of the RPG grind in relation to the protagonist's deteriorating state, cycle after cycle, play after play. You have your classic meta-textual musings about video games as well as a legitimately gripping tale filled with many twists and turns, good use of symbolism, salient points to make about Trauma and its effect on one's memory, the Fear of Change versus the necessity of it, and Depression. It all comes together by the end in a subjectively satisfying manner and...

...

And...

...

...I have to stop myself.

I'm reducing this deeply personal experience to a mere "review" and that's not what I'm here to do.

I don't know what I'm here to do.

Frankly, there are themes in this game I am not equipped to discuss, such as its intensely felt (and horrifyingly topical) commentary about Diaspora, the shared trauma of cultural displacement, a people fading away from memory like stars in the sky. That kind of analysis would be too much for a simple "review." if this were to be one, I would praise the game for being the best possible version of itself, the best version of a Time Loop story. One that perfectly applies the narrative tropes of the genre to its gameplay, plot, all that jazz. I would also state that it didn't reinvent the wheel of "Indie Gaming" and I could feel inclined to make obligatory comparisons to That One Game because that's the unfair standard by which everything MUST abide! No, I shall not do that. I need to rethink my approach. I am going to take a small break. In the meantime, please enjoy these unrelated GIF files of Christopher Lloyd from Toonstruck that I have lying around on the floor.

I had dinner with the family. It was a small, daily reminder that I am loved unconditionally. That I deserve it. Something that is immensely easy to forget. The meal was tastier than usual.

...

Back to it.

This is the brutally simple truth of the matter: there is a lot to love about In Stars and Time, with its writing, design choices, characters, nuances, big feelings. It has the potential to be a massive crowd pleaser and it would be well-deserved. It's got explicitly gay lore, as well! In case I didn't make it abundantly clear, this game is 100% queer. Every aspect of it, from the characters and the world they inhabit to the culture and its history, is built from the ground up as a queer utopia. You might recall, all the way to the first paragraph of this long-winded, amorphous ramble, I mentioned something about Change with a capital C. That is because the very concept of Change has been deified, becoming the base of a whole religion: an extremely inclusive, open-minded, progressive community that celebrates life in all its multi-faceted forms. A significant portion of its foundation is the magical technique of "Body Craft" which allows the user to literally transform their physical appearance into their preferred shape, one that better reflects who they are. Children are given many names, both male and female, for the purpose of facilitating their own change, should it occur. Literal and figurative transience lies at the heart of this belief system, meaning that about half the population is trans/non-binary, and queerness is normalcy. As a side note, I want to live in this world. Change is viewed as positive, in other words. In light of that, the arrival of a hostile entity with the power to simply stop all of existence from ever progressing by freezing everyone in place might seem like an easy metaphor to read. I assure you, the game is eager for you to make that assumption.

As I mentioned earlier, this story tackles Depression and it doesn't pull its punches when it comes to portray the more "inconvenient" aspects of living with crippling self-esteem issues. That's when the game became a masterpiece to me. I resonated with Siffrin (He/They), the protagonist. That's you!

Their struggle to navigate the constant torment of the loop is paralleled with their increasing mental and emotional instability. Intrusive thoughts overpowering their head, saying he will never be loved, that he's toxic and manipulative. There's the all too familiar frustration of not being understood by others despite not having tried to explain how you really feel to them, trapped as you are in your own head. Big issues are equated to "small" issues. I relate with most of this. Through the Time Loop allegory, In Stars and Time captures the Kafkian Horror of existing as a neurodivergent person who gets in the way of their own happiness. It's isolating, drives a barrier between your loved ones, makes you lose touch with reality. Sometimes you have good days, sometimes you have bad days. Everything eventually blends together in a sickening routine until you either drown or you start swimming furiously.

Then the cycle repeats.

It's too much.

You cannot do it alone.

You are not alone.

Let them in.

Let yourself be loved.

That is, in essence, the reason why I think so highly of this title. I related with the story and characters. Yes, it all comes down to the most obvious thesis statement in the universe. Yes, I probably didn't need to write so much about it but, regardless, I'm glad I did. I poured my feelings towards an Object D'Art onto figurative paper as I was processing them, doing away with any pseudo-intellectual vernacular in order to get to the soul of the matter. I expressed my emotions and I feel better for having done so. Now, I can move on. All that is left to do is to recommend the game.

...

Go play In Stars and Time, I recommend it. It's good.

...

That's about it.

...

You're still here.

...

......

..............

Go away, stupid!

---

A/N:

Thank you for reading this rather personal piece. The article was extrapolated from a thread I wrote down on the subject. You can read that here. I also typed about the official prologue to the game, Start Again, which you can view here.

As a reminder, I have a YouTube channel.

In Stars and Time was developed by Adrienne Bazir. Follow them on Twitter, Tumblr and Itch.io.

Tell the people in your life how much they mean to you, and have a good day.

[chaos-husband]

Pride Icons of Makoto Yuki, Yukari Takeba and Junpei Iori from Persona 3

○ Part 1 of ??? ● 1000×1000 px each ○ Free to use, no credit required ● Please like / reblog if using or saving.

[hiddenbookcasepodcast]

Happy International Nonbinary People's Day 💛🤍💜🖤

Here are a few quick book recommendations from the two of us to celebrate, all featuring prominent nonbinary characters! From cosy graphic novels to epic fantasy, we hope you find a new favourite, and never forget you're always welcome through the bookcase, today and every day 📚💕

[bumblebeeappletree]

“Drawing in the dirt! Drawing in the dirt! I’m drawing in the dirt!” Little Juniper sang as she drew in the dirt with a stick she found. “Draw up! Draw down. Draw in the dirt all around!”

From flowers to butterflies to fish to trees to imaginary things; Juniper drew them all. A little budding artist could work with any medium after all! And her absolute favorite was dirt.

“June!” A voice called to her.

Popping her head up, Juniper saw her MaPa wave to her.

“MaPop!” Little Juniper cried out in delight. “Look look! I made things!”

MaPa walked over as Juniper pointed with enthusiasm. Her chubby arm was waving all around as she pointed to her grand canvas. As MaPa got closer, a smile grew on their face.

“Oh how lovely! My Little Junebug your drawings are wonderful.” They said, squatting down to the young child.

“Yeah!” Juniper grinned.

MaPa chuckled.

“Is Mama coming? I wan’ her to see!” Juniper spoke fast, mouth fumbling with the word ‘want.’

MaPa glanced up, a mischievous smile taking place. “Why don’t you go ask her?” They pointed out to a tree.

Juniper squinted. The light of the day shining in her eyes. The creak bubbling by occasionally made the shine brighter. It was hard for Juniper to see exactly where MaPa was pointing to. So Juniper looked around the tree.

Was Mama over by the bench where Kyle was sitting with his Auntie in his wheelchair? No. Mama definitely wasn’t running with the joggers with their cool metal legs. Mama hates to run. Mama wasn’t with the bird watchers who come every Tuesday. Mama goes with the bird watchers that come every Thursday.

Juniper blinked hard and tried to look at the tree again. There! Mama’s pretty yellow and green dress was blowing in the wind!

“Mama!” Juniper cried with joy as she jumped up. Carful to go around her art, she ran right to her Mama.

She slammed right into her Mama, hugging her legs with every bit of strength she had.

“Oh my little Juniper. Did you miss me?” Mama’s soothing voice asked her.

“A little bit.” Juniper said. She’s a big girl, and while she doesn’t need to be with her Mama all the time, she still loves her Mama and misses her.

Mama laughed her soft laugh that Juniper loved and ruffled Juniper’s already ruffled hair. Oh! Mama pulled out a stick!

“How did that get there?” Mama asked.

Juniper just made a noise sounding like a ‘I don’t know.’

Juniper finally looked up, but then froze. Wide eyed.

Tears burst from her eyes as Juniper started to sob.

“June!” Mama shifted her to be held in Mama’s arms. “June baby what’s wrong?”

MaPa came over with worry on their face. “Baby what’s wrong?” They asked.

Juniper pointed to the direction of Mama’s face. “Ma-Ma-ma sh-she-“ Juniper hiccuped, “she don’ have her bear no more!”

As she cried her parents blinked before understanding.

“Oh honey,” Mama cooed. “I just wanted to have a little change, that’s all.”

“That’s right our Little June bug, Mama looks quite dapper.” MaPa said, rubbing Juniper’s back.

Juniper momentarily stopped crying. “What’s dapper?” She asked.

Her parents smiled with amusement in their eyes. “It means fancy love.” Mama said.

Her saying that caused Juniper to look at her again. She then promptly burst into tears once more.

Mama and MaPa began shushing her in their ‘I’m here it’s okay’ way as they swayed together back and forth back and forth back and forth the way Juniper liked it.

But Juniper wasn’t happy. No Juniper was sad and some other things she didn’t know. Instead of the fluffy beard Mama had, she got a mustache instead! It wasn’t the same! And because the fluffy beard was gone and it wasn’t the same Juniper didn’t like it.

So Juniper said “I want Mama’s bear back.”

“Aww baby, Mama can grow her beard back.” Mama said.

“Really?” Juniper asked, rubbing her eye.

“Really.” MaPa said. “Hair likes to grow you know.”

Little Juniper pouted, but nodded. Okay, Mama can grow her beard back. “Okay! You can grow it back now!”

“Juniper, sweetheart, it takes a while.” Mama said.

“… tomorrow?” Juniper asked shyly.

“Longer than tomorrow sweet pea.” MaPa said.

Tiny lips wobbled as crystal clear tears started to well up in Juniper’s eyes. Mama shifted Juniper in her arms. Now the child was on Mama’s hip.

“I’m sorry for not letting you know that I was going to shave today. I wanted it to be a surprise.” Mama apologized.

The small nose sniffled. “A surprise?”

Mama nodded with a hum. “I thought you would like it.”

Juniper pouted as she shook her head. She didn’t like it one bit.

MaPa hummed. “Well, your Mama wanted to do something different for herself as well. Don’t you want Mama to do something that she likes?”

Juniper thought for a moment. Then nodded. She wanted her Mama to be happy. What she didn’t notice was her parents doing the face communication on what should be told to a child. They stopped when Juniper looked back up at them.

“I don’t like it… but I want Mama to be happy.” Juniper said solemnly.

Mama kissed Juniper on her forehead, the mustache tickling in a way that the beard had done before.

“How about this,” Mama started, “next time I decide to change my style, from a beard to a mustache or even nothing at all, I’ll let you know first. No surprises.”

Juniper liked this more. But then she scrunched up her nose. “Mama not having a bear on her face? Or a catipiler? Tha’s weird. Your face is naked if you do.”

Both Mama and MaPa blinked at that then laughed. “I suppose not having a bear or a caterpillar on my face would be weird.”

Juniper nodded rather seriously. Mama was prettier with her beard. But maybe Juniper would think Mama would look just as pretty with the mustache. After all, it takes time to adjust to change.

“Come on now darling, you need a bath. One with water. I don’t think your dirt bath did anything.” MaPa said.

That caused Juniper to gasp. That’s right! Dirt!

“Mama! Mama! I gotta show you my art!”

Together the family of three went to the drawings. They ooed and awed at what Juniper created. Later they would go home just the other side of the park. They would go have baths and have dinner at the community room in their apartment building. And later on in the night they would wake little Juniper up to let her see the summer night stars during the designated black out. And in the morning Juniper would hug her mother and say “I think your catipiller need to be brushed.”

———

So some notes on this is that this was created for @solarpunkaestheticweek for the aesthetic week. While I did plan on trying to draw a picture once a day, I figure writing a short story would be good enough. And I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Juniper and this story is actually based off of a couple of things that happened to me when I was a little girl. My mom suddenly came home having chopped off her long hair to be super short and had it dyed! And toddler me did not like it one bit because it was different! I cried like how Juniper cried. The other inspiration was the opposite of Juniper. I liked it whenever my dad was clean shaven and hated it when he grew out his stubble. As for Juniper’s parents, her MaPa is non-binary and when Juniper started calling MaPa, MaPa it just stuck. As for Juniper’s Mama, you the reader can interpret her as trans, intersex, a cisgender woman who just happens to have facial hair, or anything else. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story!

[stillunpainted]

Xenoblade Chronicles 3 is wild because it is the straightest game I have ever played but at the same time it is the gayest game (that isn't like. something literally about being gay or centered on a mostly lgbt cast) I have ever played. Does this make sense

[mslanna]

It's International Non-Binary People's Day, so have some book recs.

The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo

Story within story

enby story collecting monk

insanely good feminist story in the narration

has sequels

The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected In Water

non-Western story telling vibes

fighting monks

bandits

shenanigans

The Brusing of Quilwa by Naseem Jamnia

FAVE!!!!

Dragon Age 2 based

so good I keep forgetting that and am surprised by what happens

trans brother

vibes for days

blood magic

Finna by Noni Cipri

Ikea Portal Fantasy

only the LI is enby

but I love this SO MUCH

fun romp

with repercussions

has sequel

The Heartbreak Handshake by J. R. Hart

not spec fic 😱

enby protag has ADHD

LI is autistic

small town romance

feel-good book

The Raven Tower by Ann Leckie

FAVE!!!!

say what you want Eolo is enby to me

insane story structure (like Spock's World, I LOVE Spock's World) (by Diane Duane)

strange goods and flawed characters

impeccable 2nd person PoV

this book alived me

Junker Seven by Olive J Kelley

on my tbr

duology

[moodlesmain]

Someone give me recs for media with nonbinary protagonists please give me anything im drowning over here

[flowersandcitrus]

Chapter One (Part One of Two): The Turning Of New Leaves

As every life ends, a new one begins an endless cycle that will continue even after we all die.

-

The sun begins to rise on the vast, dry horizon, casting the valley in shades of umber. The plants crumble underfoot the large mare. The rider continues wearily, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They come to a stop under an old tree, with carvings all over its bark, each of which shares its own story, not unlike the many travelers who have passed it. Its limbs sprawled high into the sky providing shade for the two of them.

-

I can hear my heart still pounding in my ears from when I left. My whole body seems to cave in from fatigue, but I can't rest now. My gaze drags to where my shoes rest inside the stirrup, scanning the dirt stains on the light evening gown I wear. I brush the disheveled and sweat-drenched strands of hair back into the now-messy bun and wipe my hands off on the gown fabric.

-

They were riding for far more than an hour when they slow down at the crossroads, the rider leaning forward to observe the wooden signpost there with a poorly engraved title, "OATSTEAD".

-

It was the name of a small town, and possibly the means to an end, the means to settle down and start a new life here, if they had wanted to live here – in the calm countryside, far enough from their poor city life – leaning solely on the support of a man. They had not wanted that for themselves ever again. They had hoped the saying wasn't true and that history wouldn't repeat itself yet again. Although perhaps it would and only whatever ethereal being above or below could tell the fate of this person.

-

In this part of the forest, the trees are denser, the canopy obscuring most light from the heavens above. Every two paces brought upon another thin trunk, reaching high overhead almost like a bony hand reaching out of the depths of the earth and writhing against the morning breeze. Finally, patches of sunshine seep through the canopy of leaves, scarcely providing a source of light. No matter, it was there.

-

Miniscule versions of glades brought into sight homey cottages fairly spread out on their descent through the woods.

-

My heart thuds faster like the hooves battering the ground the further we ride through the forest, an aching throb that leaves me on the edge of dismay. I'm not so sure why my paranoia kicks in now, for I know that the monsters on earth take to the cities, I, of all people should know; for one has taken me as their spouse before.

-

A cacophony of howls, erupting within the forest, distorted and echoed rang out in the near distance. The massive mare rears onto its hind legs, storming off the weathered dirt path, as its hooves pound against the dirt, it stirs up the brush of leaves underfoot, leaving me gasping and fighting to stay in the saddle.

-

A barrage of branches whips past the rider, tearing and tattering their draping gown. The fragile silk of which their evening gown is composed of splits like the petal of a flower. The bristled fur meets the smooth hands of the rider as they attempt to soothe their unruly mount. Their short trembling fingers glide over the mare's side. They hadn't expected much from their effort, as they were panicking as well, but soon the horse calmed and they made their way back to the dirt path.

-

A sigh escapes my lips, my thoughts racing wildly. I brush my wind-blown hair back into the mess of a bun with one hand, the other in control of the reins, keeping the mare steady.

-

'Was It wrong of me to have left?' The thought abruptly crosses my mind. 'No – I would rather bear the wrath of these wilds than be with that irascible man a second longer. Although I had wished I had time to say goodbye to him, the one person in that wretched city, I could have trusted.'

-

Shaking my head, I clutch the reins, begging myself to focus. I peer ahead, expecting the trail to whip down another way, but instead, I'm met by the blinding light of a clearing.

-

Adrenaline soars through their veins, and all of the hours they've spent without a wink of sleep will soon be worth it. The shallow stream they cross laps at the steed's slender, aching legs, like a cold breeze on the hottest day of summer. A town lurking in the fertile plain below blooming with vegetation acts as a breath of fresh air for the rider, and their heart seems to swell with hope.

-

OATSTEAD

-

As they reach the town, the buildings seep into their mind, sickly sweet. The lightly painted wood mixed with the dull color of the red-hued brick houses slowly passes by as they take in the town.

-

As the wind picks up, it softly tosses their torn skirt around, along with several worn papers with bold lettering: 'WANTED'. The rider slinks down in the saddle, and slows to a stop at a hitching post in front of an old corner store, their windows stocked with candies and fresh produce. Kicking one foot out of the stirrups, the rider shifts to dismount their mare.

-

As my feet touch the ground, a crunch sounds out underfoot. I lift my gown, revealing a stained yellow-tinted paper underneath my loosely laced shoes. Instinctively, I reach for the paper kneeling to pick it off the pebbled road. It's then that I realize the icy hold of silence that lingers throughout the streets.

-

Silence.

-

Oh how much I've hated the silence – when the only thing left to occupy your mind is your own twisted thoughts. Oh how wrong they were, those thoughts, but not much could ever block them.

-

My heart sinks, dread sending chills down my fingertips, hastily flip it over to reveal the familiar sight of a Wanted poster.

-

Inked onto the sheet in bold writing reads, "Wanted Dead or Alive" below, "Reward $5,000 Known alias; Raven". In the center of the sheet lies a sketch that depicts an older man, presumably in his forties. His face is thin and defined. His uneven hair delicately curled against his forehead with a goatee as well.

-

As an attempt to drill his image into my mind, I study his features to know who to stay away from, although the sketch may not be as accurate. He was, unfortunately, attractive, nevertheless, I shall approach this man with caution. Regardless of his past crimes, he may be safer to be around than my ex-lover had been with me.

-

No, that's a ridiculous thought, for such a high bounty, he must be dangerous.

-

Soon I become lost in my train of thought.

-

My teeth sink into my bottom lip in frustration as I walk the streets – empty save for a couple of drunken stragglers wandering home from their nights full of mistakes - to the saloon. Gods damn it all, he can be such an idiot sometimes, going into town just for some booze.

-

Of course, I came with him too, it's fitting as I was the first one to work under him. As I raise my head from the cobbled street, I notice a person wearing a tattered gown standing beside a large steed. They look as if they're in a daze, their eyes saddened, glistening in the sunlight. 'Another sheep entering the wolf's den.' I think, 'I don't have time for this, but perhaps this sheep can be trained to run with the wolves, rather than to fear them.'

-

My head feels foggy, and my thoughts come out messy and uneven, whether from fatigue or dehydration, I have yet to figure out, but I know where they're headed. I can vividly depict the ochre color in my mind, its orangish-brown hue, and how I'll never be able to count the times I've drowned myself in the bitter, acidic edge of the drink. I never remember how the night ends when I get like this. Perhaps I'm too scared to know; to know why I wake up with bruises that I don't remember having, in nothing but my undergarments, scared and alone in a room that resembles nothing like my own, flowing with the overly intoxicating scent of booze.

-

I can recall a time when I had stayed up hours after sundown with my mother, to surprise our father when he had come home from working his shifts down at the station, and so he came home, drunk out of his mind.

-

Like an abandoned dog, I await eagerly at the door, a glint in my eyes as I perk up at each and every noise that comes from outside the tarnished door, as I patiently await his return.

-

It was around this time of year, a few decades ago. My father had planned something special for my birthday.

-

Day and night he worked himself nearly to death, earning money for a present. He hadn't told us why he was working overtime, but we knew. Since my brother had been of working age, he had come home nearly hours ago and passed out on his cot.

-

"I was turning eight this year," I thought, my teeth lightly sinking into my bottom lip, "next year I can become useful".

-

My fingers begin to feel numb and tingly in the cold night air coming in from the drafty windows. Instinctively, as if sensing my body turning numb, mother swaddles me in an old torn quilt.

-

"Come 'ere hon', you'll catch a cold at this rate." She says, a sad smile lingering on her face as she sits me down on a weathered chair, although the original color may have been green, it's merely a ghost of what it once was.

-

"Hello." I hear a soft voice trill, slicing through the fog in my mind. Startled, I yelp, searching this way and that until my eyes meet theirs. Their kind, caramel-colored eyes seek out mine.

-

"Um, Hello...." I croak, as a wave of lightheadedness passes me as if the ground itself was moving beneath us, as I look from the Wanted poster in my hands back to her amiable, welcoming gaze.

-

"Apologies if I have disturbed you, I haven't seen you 'round here. T'was wondering if you need help with anything."

-

Their voice is soft and seemingly sincere, their gaze warm, like pastries fresh out of the baker's oven, they smile sweetly. My heart seems to lurch in my chest, 'They're beautiful' I think, whether out of jealousy or a state of infatuation, the cause remained unclear.

-

As speaking with her grows more comfortable, I take the chance offered and begin to ask, "Actually, is there anywhere to stay for a while, or a job?" My voice is weary from hours without speaking.

-

"Well I'm headed to the saloon now, and they almost always have beds for rent, and folk 'round here would pay good coin for that horse of yours."

-

They gesture to the russet-coated mare, its deep, reddish-brown ears flick at the sound of them speaking and its tail swats at the nearby flies. "I could talk to my boss and have something arranged. All you need is to ask..."

-

The speaker momentarily trails off, cocking their head slightly to the side, as if in wonder. "Er- apologies I realize I haven't properly greeted you." I'm almost surprised when they curtsy, holding their hand across their chest, "Piper, at your service," She coos.

-

The morning sun, peering over the horizon, ripples across her chest and shoulders, causing her stretch marks to shine a beautiful golden color against her warm, cupreous-toned skin akin to the color of rust or copper.

-

A light bronze blush dusts my cheeks at their stunning looks and polite mannerisms, "Beatrice, a pleasure to meet you, madam." I extend my hand to them.

-

"Dear, I assure you, the pleasure is all mine" In an elegant motion, they take my hand in theirs and press their lips to my knuckles.

-

Although it's a common greeting and lasts less than a second, my heart drums, as if intoxicated by their mystifying aura, but if this act does anything, it amplifies the icy numbness that wraps itself around me like a shackle constantly weighing me down.

-

"Now, if you'll excuse me my dearest, my boss is waiting for me at the saloon. If you wish to come with, make haste."

-

I take the reins of the mare and lead her down the road, as I follow the mysterious stranger, Piper, thoughts of the intriguing acquaintance fill my head.

-

The towering, sturdy saloon is surrounded by shrubbery and decorated with delicately crafted flower boxes all blooming with beautiful flowers that are the shades of a sunset. The blue which would normally clash against the oranges, blends in perfectly, and even adds to the warmth of the saloon. At first glance, I would have expected it to be a hotel until a slightly tipsy man stumbles out of the swinging batwing doors. Piper bolts up to him, locking an arm around his waist as he nearly tumbles off the porch side rushing to greet us.

-

The golden light of the sun vanishes behind a thick bundle of cottony, white clouds, shrouding the area in dim light, sending a chill down my spine as the temperature drops slightly. The world around us is cast in shade except for the luminous beams that shoot down from where the sunlight breaks its way through the clouds.

-

Even though they are quite petite and short compared to the two of us, they make up with incredible strength for their size; and although he towers over her, in which she hardly meets his shoulder, let alone my own, she's able to keep him stable with just an arm.

-

He seems to not acknowledge them at all, instead, his soft, silver eyes, glazed over like the frigid, murky, slate-colored waters of home, gaze not at them, but instead, directly at me. Those eyes, barren and aloof seem to devour what's left of my confidence, as they scan every inch of me, I shift, suddenly feeling perturbed as he reads me like a book.