#you have no idea how hard it was to unlearn that kind of style in order to write something more 'traditional'. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cha0ticspacebi · 2 years ago

Text

Trying to date after escaping an abusive relationship is hard. Thankfully Eddie can provide just what you need. Freedom.

Pairing: Dark! Obsessive! Eddie x Naive! Trusting! Female Reader

Word Count: 6.8 K

Tags: Serial killer! Eddie, he kills in the name of love but murders nonetheless, graphic depictions of violence (very Dexter like), possessiveness, obsession, knife play, oral sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, talks of domestic violence, Billy is reader's abusive ex (I'm sorry if you like him, he's my default villain!), other characters make a minor appearance. I’m not creative enough for song lyrics so I pulled out some real dusty ones from my emo days. Please mind these tags, this story is the darkest thing I've ever written! ⚠️ 21+ MDNI ⚠️

A/N: This story is 100% inspired by and dedicated to @eddiethetwisted. If you are here for dark and twisted, Yandere Eddie please check him and @eddiemunsonfuxks out! You won't be disappointed!

divider by firefly-graphics

It’s been 3 years since you escaped from your worst nightmare. 1,095 days since you last had to see his face in that courtroom. It had taken a while for the bruises to fade. It’s taken even longer for the nervous glances over your shoulder anytime you went out to subside, but you felt better. Supported by your friends and a therapy group for other survivors of domestic abuse, you were healing.

“Have you given any more thought to my suggestion?” your friend Barb spoke so sweetly as you had lunch with her.

You pondered the suggestion in question. A few days ago she brought up the idea that you try dating again. Her words and positive sentiments replayed in your mind, just because Billy was a piece of human trash doesn’t mean that all men are. You shouldn’t feel like you have to be alone for the rest of your life just because of what he did. There’s somebody out there meant just for you and what you need– I can feel it!

The truth was you did want to try again. You missed having someone to hold you at night or kiss you goodbye before you left for work each day. But that’s how it began with Billy. He was kind, supportive, loving…until he wasn’t anymore. How can you trust that the same thing won’t happen again?

You sipped your iced tea to avoid answering right away, “I don’t know. I mean I want to but,” she cut you off.

“Just come out to The Hideout tomorrow night with me and my friend Nancy from high school. There’s a local band that’s going to be playing, even if you don’t meet anymore, I’m sure you’ll have a good time!” she smiled brightly at you, adding to her plea and tugging at your heart strings.

“Ok, I’ll come along.”

Billy liked to control everything you did. Who you were allowed to hang out with, where you were allowed to go, not to mention controlling every aspect of your appearance. How you styled your hair. The clothes you wore. Even the colors of makeup you were allowed to use. Everything had to be approved by him. It had taken a lot of hard work to unlearn some of the things he had driven into your mind. It was still a daily struggle.

Even now, standing in front of the mirror wearing a skirt that never would have been allowed felt wrong. You’re showing way too much leg and men will see you for the whore you are– you shook away the thoughts! That was Billy’s insecurity, not yours. He never wanted you to feel good about yourself because that meant you were easier to control.

People wear things like what you had on all the time. There was nothing wrong with the way you looked. Trying to hype yourself up, Barb walked into your place using the key you’d given her and joined you.

“You look so pretty! Don’t change! I can see that look on your face,” she wagged a finger at you.

You jumped, surprised by her sudden appearance but laughed, “Guilty! I was just about to go back to jeans and a sweater.”

“Don’t you dare!” she scolded, “I told you, it’s just drinks. No pressure. We’ll listen to some loud music and have fun.”

You nodded while finishing up and then grabbed your purse. Feeling excited for the first time in a while about the prospect of going out and possibly meeting someone special.

The small, sleepy town of Hawkins, Indiana hadn’t been your home forever but it was where you had settled and weren’t about to let Billy take your home from you too. Unsurprisingly, since Billy never let you go anywhere, you hadn’t been to this particular bar before. It was a hole in the wall bar, a local watering hole filled with a seemingly tight knit group of loyal patrons, thankfully ranging in ages from 20s to 60s. If you had walked into a bar filled with nothing but mean, grouchy looking old men, you’d have turned right around and went home. Still, some of the confidence you had managed to build up vanished as soon as you stepped inside.

“There’s Nancy!” Barb waved at a pretty girl with brown curls on the far side of the room, “Come on let’s get drinks and then join them.”

Meeting a new group of people could’ve gone a lot worse. Barb’s friends were all really nice. You met Nancy, a journalist for the Hawkins Post. Then there was her girlfriend Robin, a freelance painter. Finally there was Steve Harrington, a newly single high school history teacher. You learned that they all went to school together, along with the guys from the band that was playing tonight. It wasn’t long until you had finished your first drink and longed for a new one because much to your surprise, you were having a lot of fun.

“I’ll be right back,” pointing to your empty glass.

Doing things on your own has been a goal of yours since leaving Billy. He had often forbid you from doing things alone, claiming it was for your safety but you learned it was just another thing he wanted to control. Going to the bar to order your own drink was honestly something you never thought you’d be able to do again.

It helped that the bar wasn’t super busy and the bartender looked nice. She took your empty glass and suggested something new that you could try.

“Hey toots,” a gruff voice from beside you broke your focus, “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” He flashed you a grin with yellowing teeth and smelled of stale cigarettes, like the one currently clutched between his fingers.

Moments like this tested all your resolve and work you had done trying to recover. It would have been really easy to fall into old habits. Claiming that your boyfriend was in the bathroom or some other excuse and then run as far away as possible. Your therapist had prepared you for the fact that when you were ready to try dating again, you might encounter more thorns than flowers. He was staring at you waiting for a response.

“Oh there you are sweetheart! I’ve been looking all over for you,” a velvety sound hit your ears and sent shivers up your partially exposed spine. With just a slight turn of your head, you were met with a pair of dark brown eyes and a smile you wouldn’t soon forget.

The man put himself right between you and the creep before grabbing the drink that was sweating on its coaster, “Silly girl, come on! You don’t want to miss my show do you?”

You played along, not wanting to miss the escape this man was offering you from your current predicament, “Of course not.” You grabbed the drink from his hand, “Let’s go.”

He smiled and then addressed the man who had been bothering you, “Careful now Gene that pacemaker was just replaced wasn’t it? Would be a shame if you worked it too hard and something happened again.” You could hear the man at the bar grumble something in response but couldn’t quite make out what it was.

Once you had walked a safe distance away you realized you’d still been following this man who you didn’t know. “Um,” You grabbed his sleeve to stop him from where he was still walking ahead of you, “T-thank you for that. He was making me really uncomfortable.”

He turned and gave you a better view of his face. He was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. His dark brown curls perfectly matched his eyes and his smile was even better now that you could admire it properly. He spoke so warm and kindly, “You’re very welcome princess. Men like him are a waste of breath. May I ask your name?”

You tell him your name and learn that his name is Eddie. But the larger development that takes place is when Steve walks over looking very confused, “Munson!” He smacks Eddie on the back, “So what, you two know each other or something?”

He shakes his head, “I am but her humble savior and defeater of evil.”

You can’t help the little giggle that you let out, “He rescued me from some old creep at the bar.” You motioned between the two of them, “Do you two know each other?”

Steve explains that they went to school together and that Eddie was actually in the band you were here to see with your friend. Which must have reminded him that he was needed backstage once again since they were about to go on.

Before departing from you though, he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the top of your knuckles, “Until we meet again princess.”

Your heart fluttered more than it reasonably should have. You’d known Eddie for all of 5 minutes and he had already consumed your every thought. He was so sickeningly sweet and kind with every word he had said to you. Then watching him perform only amplified the feelings up to 11.

He took to the stage a few minutes after leaving your side. You had rejoined your group, of course regaling the tale of your sudden savior. As soon as the lights dimmed you heard his voice again coming through the mic. You were mesmerized by the way his ringed fingers pressed into the strings of his guitar and then moved along the neck with ease pressing into a different fret causing a change in the sound. Matching perfectly with the bassline and drum beats provided by his bandmates. You were so lost in his beauty up there that your brain couldn't truly process the weight of his lyrics.

He dropped you off

I followed him home

Then I stood outside his bedroom window

You caught words like bloody, valentine, and love. You wondered how he made a song that sounded so violent seem so romantic.

Standing over him, he begged me not to do

What I knew I had to do

Cause I am so in love with you

His eyes locked with yours the entire time. You tricked your brain into thinking he was singing right to you and no one else. For a brief moment, it’s as if all your anxiety and concerns about coming out tonight never existed in the first place. For the first time in a really long time you forgot about everything you’d been through and allowed yourself to entertain the idea of happiness. Maybe Eddie could make you happy.

After the show he emerged from the back and came to stand right beside you again, “What’d you think of the show sweetheart?”

You bit your lip, a bad habit Billy hated, “It was really good Eddie. You’re a great singer. Do you write the lyrics or is it more of a group effort?”

He took a drink of the beer one of the guys had delivered to him, “It’s all me princess. Why did you hear something you really liked?”

“Well, they were pretty dark but honestly,” You thought back to that first song, “There’s something kinda romantic about the notion of killing to protect the one you love.”

Barb gave you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher, it was quizzical but also hopeful, “Yeah you think so? I mean that song about murder is still murder but I guess the fantasy of it could be alluring.”

Nancy joined the conversation, “I’ll have to disagree. Sorry Eddie,” he nods to indicate no offense taken, “There’s nothing sexy about the idea of killing an innocent person just to show your love and affection for someone.”

Eddie didn’t miss a beat though, “But what if the person wasn’t innocent? What if it was someone who deserved it?”

“That’s why we have a court of law, due process to clear those who are innocent and punish those who are guilty. People who take the law into their own hands are just as bad as the criminals they claim to hate so much,” Nancy made her position clear as day on the issue.

As soon as she was done, you felt you had to speak up, “But what about when the courts that are supposed to protect the victims fail and end up favoring the abusers? Real life just doesn’t work like it does in a textbook. Our court systems are incredibly flawed.” For a second you forgot who you were talking to and that Barb was the only one who knows about your past, “They certainly didn’t help me any. All I got was a lousy restraining order and he got a slap on the wrist.”

The table was silent.

Eddie downs the rest of his beer in one gulp, “Who hurt you sweetheart?”

You felt the burn of the spotlight that was suddenly on you. You had let your guard down and exposed a part of yourself you wanted nothing more than to hide away from the world. Finally the words came but they were broken, “I- it's not important.”

The tone in Eddie’s voice lowered and darkened but still managed to drip with sweetness, “I’m so sorry you think that sweetheart, but that’s not what I asked. Who made you think that?”

You swallowed hard, “My ex Billy.”

For the first time all night, his eyes were on his hands instead of you, “Does this Billy have a last name?”

Your brows furrowed as to his sudden interest in your ex, “H-Hargrove. Billy Hargrove.”

Steve could see your distress and tried to make the conversation shift away from you. After that brief drop in his tone Eddie bounced back and was once again laughing along with everyone. The topic of discussion thankfully drifted further and further away from murder and the morality of killing someone who deserved it. You blended into the background as the old group of friends spent the rest of the evening reconnecting.

After last call was made the bar was nearly empty. Only your group and a few other lonely souls that would rather spend as long as possible at the bar than go home alone remained. One of whom was the yellow toothed creep who tried hitting on you earlier in the evening.

Barb grabbed your hand, “Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Actually,” Eddie spoke, picking up on the implication that you didn’t drive here since neither of you seemed to be making a move to grab your keys, “I’ve only had this one drink so I’m good to drive you home if you’d rather save some cash on a cab.”

Nancy agreed but offered an alternative, “Eddie, your trailer is in the opposite direction of Barb’s place, I’ll drive them back.”

You didn’t know where Eddie lived but if he was in the opposite direction from Barb, that meant he was in the right direction for you, “Nancy why don’t I just go with Eddie? That way no one has to drive out of their way.”

Eddie’s face lit up with fireworks exploding on his cheeks and in his eyes, “See Wheeler? It’s a win win really.”

“Will you be alright?” Barb asked.

Eddie wrapped his arm around you, “I swear I will protect her with my life.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze, “She has never been safer than she is right now. Cross my heart!”

Eddie led you out to his van. It was old. The peeling blue upholstery of the passenger seat lifted slightly as you sat down. The engine showed its age too as it started up. You looked around curiously, inspecting the cigarette butts sitting in the ashtray and the two plastic coke bottles on the floor by your feet.

“Sorry for the mess,” he somehow managed to look at you and the road at the same time, “I wasn’t expecting to have anyone in here tonight.”

Now that you were alone you wanted to make sure you thanked him properly for his help earlier, “No worries. I really appreciate the offer to drive me home. Especially after you already helped me, a perfect stranger, out with that little issue at the bar.”

He waved it off, “Don’t mention it princess. A beautiful lady like you shouldn’t have to put up with crap like that, especially from scum like him.”

His words couldn’t help but have a profound effect on you. Billy never called you beautiful. Hot or sexy sure but never beautiful. It was really nice to hear and even thought you felt yourself slipping, there was nothing you could do to stop yourself from falling. You were too far gone already. You really liked Eddie.

He turned on some music, obviously one of the groups that served as inspiration for his own music. You glanced behind you as he drove expecting to see various musical equipment but instead you saw only a black duffle bag, several tarps, and a few loose articles of safety gear like gloves and glasses. You turned back to him, “Where’s your guitar and amps and stuff?”

“My uncle works construction so he sometimes uses the van for work,” he shot his thumb pointing backwards, “It’s pretty dirty back there so we started using Gareth’s truck to move the stuff around.”

“Do you live with your uncle?”

“Yeah, he took me in after my asshole dad got locked up,” he turned down the street that would lead to your house after following your instructions.

You pointed out your house to him and he pulled up into the driveway. To your surprise he got out with you.

“What?” he smiled, “I told your friend I’d make sure you were safe.”

You laughed, “Nothing’s going to happen to me between here and the door though Eddie.”

“I’m nothing if not thorough sweetheart. When I set my mind to something I see it through to the end,” he even opened your screen door for you as you dug in your bag for your key.

“Thank you for the ride Eddie,” you lingered in the doorway for a moment. Waiting to see if he would make a move, granted you didn’t have a lot of experience, but it seemed like he was into you, or at least that’s what you hoped.

“You are very welcome,” he kissed the back of your hand again, “Would you do me the great honor of going to see a movie with me tomorrow?”

“I’d love to Eddie, pick me up at 8?”

“On the dot princess,” he planted one last kiss on the hand he was still holding, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You locked the door behind him and fell asleep for the first time in a while feeling hopeful for the fate of your love life.

• • • • • • •

Somewhere in the forest outside Lover’s Lake later that night.

“Oh, don’t bother begging for mercy now Gene. You shouldn’t have tried to take what didn’t belong to you,” a dark voice speaks low to the terrified man from where this assailant hovers over a nearly broken leg and bloody arm.

His breathing was labored, “Y-you’re i-in-sane!”

The man shrugged, “Maybe. But I did try to warn you about that pacemaker, didn't I?” He knelt down and pressed the tip of his pocket knife into the man's thigh, “Tell you what, since you were good and kept your hands off of her I’ll give you another chance.” His voice lifted and dripped with a touch of mania, “If you had touched her perfect skin with your disgusting fingers I’d be breaking each of them one by one.”

Gene went white but didn’t have a chance to react. The man was speaking again, “If you can make it to the lake before that little piece of metal keeping your heart beating gives out, I’ll let you live. You can even tell them what I did and how that Munson boy is as crazy as everyone says he is!”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Unfortunately for him, Eddie had already done a number on him. He was bleeding from several places and had no idea what direction the lake was in. He hobbled frantically and panicked through the forest, desperately searching for the lake. Under different circumstances this old local might have noticed the change in soil texture or the shifting foliage signaling that water was nearby. But at god knows what time in the morning being chased by a madman, he felt the beating in his chest begin to falter. He collapsed to the ground.

“Oh,” Eddie had caught up to him with ease and stood over him watching as the older man struggled to breathe. The silver of his blade shining in the moonlight, “Too bad.”

• • • • • • •

Eddie was precisely on time for your date the next day. He drove the two of you to the theater in town and paid for the tickets.

“Do you want a snack princess? Are you a popcorn girl or maybe something sweeter just like you,” Eddie’s constant flirting was consuming you. It felt so good to be desired in a way you never had before.

“Popcorn is fine Eddie,” you grabbed his hand, “Thank you.”

Everything was going perfect. You had dressed up and not once thought about what Billy would say. Eddie was a perfect gentleman and even let you pick some romantic comedy that Billy never would have seen with you. The movie wasn’t great, it was cheesy and predictable, but that wasn’t the important part. Eddie’s hands never left your skin the whole night. Whether he was holding your hand, wrapping his arm around you, or just mindlessly thumbing over your wrist while the movie was playing. It was the best date you had ever been on. Until you stepped out into the night air of the parking lot following the credits.

“Well well sugar, fancy seeing you here,” a voice you never wanted to hear ever again hit your ears and you froze in place.

Eddie was right there to catch you before you could fall down that slippery slope of fear, “Sweetheart? Who’s this?”

“Who the fuck are you freak?”

“Billy please!” you felt yourself shaking as you tried to speak up for yourself, “I- I still have a restraining order so just leave me alone.”

He stepped forward just once before Eddie cut him off, “You should listen to her. Wouldn’t want to make any trouble.” He looked around, assessing that Billy was here alone, “Seeing a flick all by yourself?”

“Fuck off freak,” Billy looked right at you from where you were cowering behind Eddie, “You’re still as weak and spineless as you were when I left you. Just now you’ve shown your real slutty colors.”

Eddie’s tone dropped again like it had last night when he was protecting you from that guy at the bar, you thought he might address Billy again but instead he pulled you tight into his body, “ Come on princess. Let’s get you home. Something just came up and my evening suddenly looks very busy.”

You didn’t have time to process what could have possibly come up in those few seconds of interacting with Billy but you were just thankful to be back in the car with Eddie.

He was driving slowly towards your house, “Sweetheart? I need you to know I really like you and I have a very important question to ask. I know it might be difficult to talk about but I need to know. Just what did Billy do to you?”

You rubbed anxiously at your legs, “I really like you too Eddie. I feel safe with you. Unlike with him.”

You somehow manage to describe a condensed version of the hell that Billy had put you through over the years you were together, “He was my high school sweetheart but he started getting really controlling, that led to me breaking his rules which eventually reached the point where h-he would hit me, or kick me, always making sure to target spots that I could easily hide with long sleeves or pants though.”

Eddie was quiet so you continued, “I finally managed to get away with Barb’s help and I thought he had moved away after serving his pitifully short jail sentence, but I guess not. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen him since the trial three years ago.”

He arrived in your driveway and grabbed your hands, “You’ll never have to see him again. I swear to you. He’ll never hurt you ever again.”

It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable position being pulled in for a kiss from across the center console, but the feeling of his lips on yours was divine. He kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he was drowning and you were his only source of oxygen. Your heart raced and pounded louder when you felt his hands moving down towards your chest. He stopped right at your heart.

“Go inside and wait for me. I have something to take care of but it shouldn’t take long, ok? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

You obeyed and watched his van back out of your driveway before pulling off down the street.

• • • • • • •

The movie theater parking lot was still busy. Perfect.

Eddie parked his van close to but not directly beside the blue Camaro that he had seen Billy leaving just a little bit ago. Eddie had to plan this timing perfectly. If the movie that walking shit stain was seeing was the average run time he had to work quickly. He grabbed some rubber gloves and pliers from the glove box and got to work hot wiring the Camaro.

It roared to life and he managed to avoid any noisy onlookers tonight. He drove it to the side of the currently desolate highway and staged a scene. Left the headlights on, opened the doors and rummaged through the contents as if someone had disposed of the driver before robbing them blind.

After he was satisfied he took the long walk back along the road not wanting to leave any footprints in the dirt of the forest. He checked his watch as he reentered the movie theater parking lot for the third time that night. If his calculated moves had been correct, ahh right on schedule. Billy was walking out and hadn’t seemed to notice yet that his car was missing.

Eddie hurried to his van and grabbed his signature chloroform soaked cloth and waited in the shadows for the perfect moment to strike.

When Billy was walking past his van to possibly inspect a different row looking for his car, Eddie grabbed him and placed the cloth over his mouth. As they all do, he struggled for a minute but eventually went still. Allowing Eddie to toss him in the back of the van on the tarp he’d already laid out before diving out like nothing had happened and headed for the abandoned lake house he saved for special occasions like this.

Just off Holland road sat his destination.

A few years back, his old supplier Rick, had gotten busted for good this time but his family still paid the bills on this old place so Eddie had started using the old boathouse for purposes just like tonight. When a so-called man made a foolish decision like getting anywhere near one of his girls he’d bring them here. Not that any of his girls ever knew what he had done for them. No one even gave him the time of day, until you. He thought about your perfect face, your smile, your chest, and the way your hips moved as you walked–focus!

He was going to enjoy this kill.

He readied the space and then went to retrieve Billy’s still unconscious body from the back of the van. Now he just had to wait.

The telltale signs that his victims were coming to were always the same. The grogginess, the hazy look in their eyes, and the same inane questions of where am I or why are you doing this?

He was done waiting so he smacked Billy’s face a few times, “Wakey wakey Billy boy. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” Eddie pulled a knife out from the black roll of cloth that concealed his tools sitting beside him, “You hurt someone very important to me and now I’m going to make you pay for every single time you dared to lay a finger on her.”

Billy’s eyes widened with panic as Eddie stepped hard on the ground towards him. After making the first cut along Billy’s cheek, he got down to business.

Eddie wasn’t usually this messy when he worked, he was colored crimson with this filth’s blood. Even the real pieces of trash who he killed didn’t look this bad when he was through with them.

After enduring his beatings, cuts, torturously slow breaking of each finger, they were usually still recognizable. Not Billy. Eddie had all but bashed his head in and was currently in the process of dismembering his corpse and placing each piece in a duct tape wrapped garbage bag.

Once he was finished, he cleaned up and disposed of the parts where they’d be lost to the lake and even if they were ever discovered, they’d be beyond the ability to identify. Not that Eddie believed even for a second that someone would report a piece of crap like Billy missing.

Besides, he had better things to worry about. He’d gotten a little carried away and kept you waiting longer than he wanted to. So he had to get going.

• • • • • • •

After Eddie had dropped you off, you changed into some soft comfortable pajamas and brewed a pot of tea. All the things your therapist had suggested to do when you got overwhelmed with the feelings of what Billy had done. It helped a bit but the thought of Eddie returning helped more.

He was gone longer than you anticipated but your spirits lifted when you heard the sound of his van pulling up into the driveway.

Carefully you set down your teacup and hurried to unlock the door for him. On the other side of the door however stood a very different Eddie than the one that had left you. He was covered in blood.

“Sorry I’m late sweetheart, I have something to take care of.”

“Eddie!” You panicked and couldn’t understand why he wasn’t panicking too! He was obviously injured from something, “Are you alright? Were you in an accident? Oh god we need to call an ambulance!” You yelled.

He looked down at himself as thought it was raining heavily and the liquid soaking through his clothes was water and not dried blood, “None of it’s mine I promise.”

Your face froze. If it’s not his, that means it’s someone else’s, “E-Eddie? What exactly did you have to take care of ?”

The smile on his face was just as bright as it had been when he picked you up earlier, only now accented by the blood staining his face, “I told you princess. He’d never hurt you again.”

Your stomach dropped. The pieces fell into place. It made you sick but there was a part of you that was– happy, “H-he’s dead?”

“As a fucking doornail princess, can I um, come in?”

“Oh! Yes, yeah! Wait! Should we lay down plastic or something?” you looked to see if his boots had blood on them.

He laughed, “Nope we’re all good sweetheart. Just need to ditch these clothes and use your shower.”

Your brain worked in overdrive trying to process all of this as you waited for him to finish in the bathroom. You didn’t have any guy's clothes for him to change into so you had dug to the back of your closet looking for some old oversized shirts you saved for painting. You managed to find a shirt and then pulled out a pair of sweatpants you thought might fit him. Lastly, you grabbed a trash bag for him to toss his bloody clothes in. Then you heard the shower turn off.

Your voice was quiet as you tapped on the door with the back of your knuckle, “Eddie? C-can I come in?”

“I’d love you to come in here with me sweetheart.”

You slowly pressed the door open and you saw that he had the towel wrapped around his waist, “I don’t know how well they will fit but here are some clothes a-and a trash bag for you know. Your dirty clothes.”

“You’re an absolute dream,” he took the clothes and the bag then motioned towards the door, “Why don’t you wait in your room for me? Can’t have any of this dirty mess getting on you can we?”

Without another word you just nodded and closed the door again. Your weight sitting on the edge of your mattress felt heavier than normally. The man you just met had killed the man who made your life a living hell and you weren’t sad. You should be calling the police and hiding in case he decides to kill you too, but you somehow knew he wouldn’t. You still felt safe with him. Not only did you feel safe but you were pressing your thighs together as that familiar feeling bubbled in your core. You wanted him.

No matter how wrong it felt, you wanted him to come in here and absolutely wreck you.

“You look so cute in those pink pajamas princess,” he was wearing the clothes you’d given him and you felt your cheeks heat up even more. He stepped towards you and sat on the bed with his body pressed right up against yours, “You’re trembling love, you know I’d never hurt you right? Just like I said last night. I only hurt people who deserve it.”

“I think I’m trembling Eddie because I can’t believe the nightmare is finally over, no more looking over my shoulder wondering if he’ll come back one day and kill me,” you looked up into those brown eyes that somehow still managed to look soft and caring, “I know you won’t hurt me, you did this for me right?”

He lit up, “Yes! Yes I did this for you and it makes me so happy that you can see that. It’s my god given duty to protect you and I’ll never stop killing for you sweetheart! I took care of that creep who bothered you at the bar last night too!”

You knew in the reasonable side of your brain that you shouldn’t be feeling this way. That you shouldn’t be turned on by the thought of a man who loved you so much that he was willing to kill anyone who hurt you, or even slightly inconvenienced you. But you weren’t thinking with the reasonable side of your brain.

You crawled into his lap and felt his cock twitch beneath you, “You did so good Eddie.” He blossomed at the praise, “Can I make you feel good now?”

“Just holding you makes my cock hard as a rock, baby. It’s my job to make you feel good,” his hands grabbed at your hips. The pads of his fingers tracing lightly over the skin of your midriff exposed from your crop top.

You rubbed your hands along his shoulders, “Let me take care of you Eddie.” Slipping out of his lap, silencing the little whine that left his lips with a kiss and your hands on his crotch. You rubbed his covered cock before pulling at the waistband of the sweats you’d just worked so hard to find for him. His cock sprang out with a flourish. Your eyes widened and you sucked your bottom lip up into your teeth, biting down to hide your smile.

“Yeah?” he ran his fingers across the top of your head, “You like what you see angel?” He chuckles at your little nod.

“Can I suck your cock Eddie?”

He let out a pleased hum, “Mmm, that sounds great sweetheart. I can’t wait to feel your pretty little mouth on my cock.”

Not wasting anymore time you took him into your mouth and rejoiced in the pleasant stretch his cock gave your throat. He was big and you didn’t even try to stifle the chokes and gags you made as you took him in and out of your mouth.

“Fuck! That’s my good girl, I’m gonna fuck that throat of yours ok?”

“Mhmm!” you adjusted yourself back on your knees as he stood up from the bed. Getting a better grip on your head, he fucked your throat until you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“M’gonna fuck your pretty throat until your gasping for breath sweetheart,” your lips vibrated against him with want at his words, “Wanna see those sweet eyes roll back in your head and then just before you pass out on my cock, m’gonna absolutely wreck that cunt of yours. Sound good?”

He pulled back just a bit to let you answer, “P-please! Thank you Eddie!”

He pressed your head right back down onto him and listened to the sounds of your gags fill his ears, “Such a good girl with good manners sweetheart. Fuck!” He slammed back in harder.

Your brain was turning to mush. Getting lost in the feeling of his length bruising your throat. At some point he pulled out and tossed you up on the bed. He was careful as he slipped your pajama bottoms off but before he could tear your underwear off you grabbed his wrist.

“Knife–” words were hard but you tried to ask in some semblance of coherency, “U-use the knife I saw in your back pocket. Don’t like these ones anyways.”

A devious grin covered his face, “Fuck you really are perfect! My perfect princess.”

He left for just a moment and returned quickly. The silver of the small blade shimmered in the dim light of your bedside lamp. He licked his lips and grabbed the edge of your panties. The metal was cold where it just barely touched your skin. He was careful not to cut you. Just slicing through the fabric like butter on the right then again left, exposing your wet pussy to him, “I’ll just keep these for later.” He tucked your torn panties in his pocket. Then he turned his attention to your bare pussy.

“She’s beautiful princess,” he pressed his thumb to your clit and twirled it in small circles. Delightful whimpers and whines filled the room, “That feel good baby?”

“Yes! So good Eddie, more, more please!”

“Anything for my best girl,” he turned his wrist and with ease slipped 2 fingers into your sopping wetness while his thumb continued attending to your clit.

You screamed out for him, you’d never been touched like this before. It felt incredible! He was reaching places inside you that you could never reach by yourself. Bringing you to your climax faster than ever before, “M’gonna come Eddie! Don’t stop!”

“Never princess, come all over my fingers.”

The building pressure broke the dam and you cried out, cunt pulsating as you squirted all over his hand. The liquid dripped down between your ass cheeks and pooled on the bed.

He pulled his fingers out and you were so fucking glad you opened your eyes to see him licking your juices off his fingers, “Ready for my cock baby?”

“Y-yes Eddie, fuck me please!”

He took great care to adjust your body on the bed and support your head with a pillow before pressing right in with his bare cock. The sensation of his warmth filling you brought you right back to the edge. You didn’t even care that he wasn’t wearing a condom. If he asked you’d probably let him come inside you.

Lewd noises filled the room as his thrusting squished the wetness in and out of your hole. Both of you were moaning loudly without a care. His pace quickened, “M’close sweetheart. Gonna fill you up ok?” His voice was labored from fucking you but it still held that same sweetness, “You’ll look so pretty all round with my baby princess. I’ll take such good care of both of you. You’ll never have to worry about anything ever again.”

With just his mere suggestion it was suddenly all you ever wanted in life. The man who killed your worst nightmare? There was no one else you’d rather start a family with.

#dark!eddie #dark eddie munson #serial killer eddie munson #talks of domestic abuse #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x fem!reader #dark content #eddie munson smut #dark Eddie munson x reader

125 notes · View notes

langernameohnebedeutung · 2 years ago

Text

Maybe some elaboration: The point of this post is not to advise a specific behaviour or comnment on a specific social phenomenon or moral question or political practice. It's already assuming that a person has (possible very good and very reasonable) convictions that they deem to be good criteria to make decisions on. It's about occasionally taking a moment to reflect one's own actions and opinions and interpretations of the world and consider whether they align with what you believe in and the person you consider yourself to be.

And if you drive your heart into the garage and open the hood and take a good look and find everything to be in good working order and all your actions are in tune with all your ideas of right and wrong - you're good to go. Happy days.

But sometimes you might find that you believe one thing - but that there's a pattern to your actions or decisions or thoughts that does not line up with that standard you set for yourself - and others, probably. And in that case, you will probably find that you had some good reasons and justifications for acting the way you did while you did. And when you explore those reasons and justifications, you might find that they actually do hold up to your standards. Or that maybe your original standards were wrong in the first place and need a little bit of updating in some regards. In this case, you can reflect on that, find a way to adapt - and you're also good to go. But the problem is that when left unchecked and left uninvestigated and left unaware, patterns like that tend to gain a life on their own and lead you into a spiral way of thinking that is actually very destructive and that might warp your moral code without you even noticing. Which is one of the paths towards most forms of radicalisation.

You might also find that you treated someone in a way that is not in sync with your moral code. Maybe you were unfair with someone. Or selfish or cruel or dismissive or arrogant or held someone to different standards than yourself. Anything that us falliable human beings are sometimes prone to. Maybe you judged someone based on a moral codex that you are trying to unlearn - and justified it by framing it as evil in your 'new' moral code, even if there is technically nothing harmful to what the person did. Maybe you were a bit eager to dismiss a real issue because it doesn't fit your convictions or you have no frame of reference for it. Maybe you find that you used your moral and ethical convictions and (consciously or not) applied them with ill intent to a situation - for example, maybe you went particularly hard on someone for some issue because you don't like that person personally, when with someone else you might have let it slide as a minor issue. Maybe you were a bit too eager to abandon Hanlon's razor and interpreted as malice what might just have been someone not firing on all mental cylinders in that moment (or ever). Maybe you were a little too eager to group someone with a group of people you despise based on insufficient evidence because you do not like this person. Maybe it wasn't even ill intent - maybe you experienced a certain kind of behaviour or style of argument so often and in such harmful and destructive ways, that your brain (being the pattern recognition machine it is) lashed out instinctively bc it only saw one way this situation might go - but in retroperspective, it turned out that the person never had those kind of intentions and didn't know the implications of what they were saying.

In which case it is time to say: "Wow, not my proudest moment but that is part of being a fallible human being" - - - and then you can reflect on how to prevent it from happening again. Or, if necessary, to undo possible damage you have done. Maybe apologise, if your actions hurt someone.

honestly, I think it's really healthy to sometimes acknowledge that pretty much every bully and bigot in the history of the world thought their bigotry was justified. They all had their excuses. So I really recommend doing some occasional soul-searching and asking yourself whether you are making excuses somewhere for mistreating someone.

#but from Germany with love: Definitely punch Nazis.

18K notes · View notes

anthonybialy · 2 years ago

Text

Lessons Unlearned

The cruelty of checking results hurts the feelings of Democrats who are trying to make everything free. You weren’t supposed to notice. Perhaps another magical payment for doing nothing will change your mind. It just needs to arrive before prices rise between grabbing a cart and reaching the checkout.

It’s hard not to perceive how bad present political notions are going even if you hate politics. Minimizing endless irritations is the only legitimate reason to care. Dim goons who impose the manifestation of themselves via executive diktat are why everyone else must involve themselves in toxic civics.

Paying attention means never getting to enjoy awe. Be filled with wonder by never learning. Democrats are shocked that what they think turned out awfully. Knowing what peril was about to be inflicted would require realizing their policies couldn't be designed to spread more aching. Inflation can’t be that bad if there’s still paper to print checks.

Shoplifters pointing out who stuffed packaged steaks down their trousers are surely not creating distractions. Enabling thieves is either the goal or inadvertent result of Democratic rule. Your level of cynicism doesn’t affect how the few things in stock are getting stolen.

Feeling bad for criminals makes it tough to stop them. It’s too bad nobody can sell sob stories about needing to rip off stores and raise prices for those who obey rules by claiming they’re not to feed their families without what they yoink.

The only way to make excuses for thievery worse is to note that those responsible made others poor in the first place. Liberalism causes misery it then exacerbates. The spiral heads the wrong way. There’s no possible solution like letting buyers and sellers negotiate while punishing violators: we must send out checks until everyone is wealthy and look away from stealing until then.

Take away police and crime rises. Next, it’s time to learn how ice cream cake for breakfast may provide you with too many calories and not enough vitamins. Keeping criminals on the honor system doesn’t create as much tranquility as projected. It turns out the world has bad people who don’t care for obeying standards that are legally binding. Contrived ineptness is the theme of politics in the 2020s unless chaos was the goal all along. If criminals are thriving by design, then the municipal environment has been well done in its way.

It’s unsurprising that those who steal from the economy have excuses for criminals. Government makes everything free. All faith takes is pretending the capacity to make money is as boundless as the willingness of the successful to get indefinitely bilked. Nothing’s more costly than an asterisk. This remedial White House will never grasp what incentives are even as they inflict the wrong kind.

We inhabit a globe as dangerous as American cities have become. There’s nowhere to hide, which offers relief in its way. Life gets hard when we’re saddled with a president who’s soft internationally. You might think progressive Teddy Roosevelt would inspire the incumbent with big stick talk. But he was an icky Republican, which is why his advice has been discarded.

The urge to be tougher than anyone who might cause trouble is not a mere endorsement of might in a moral vacuum. The astute can avoid lunkheaded Trump-style ersatz strength for the same reason it’s wise to remain unimpressed with gaudy wealth displays. Righteousness paired with the ability to challenge scumbags pre-empts a great deal of disarray. The very ability to back up a threat keeps potential scoundrels in line. Next, we’ll review why lower taxes increase revenue as people work harder.

Everything uncannily turned within the past year or so. Joe Biden has the worst luck if you ask him. Why did life get so wretched just as he implemented his awesome ideas? All this misfortune has prevented universal joy from taking hold. Zeus must be a Ron DeSantis fan.

It’s too bad pointing fingers can’t create happiness. Blame heartless conglomerates for reaping record profits as part of the enhanced commitment to demonizing success. The nerve of receiving currency in exchange for providing items or services cannot be tolerated.

Corporations are so stupid that they waited to rip off. The mystery of why capitalist tyrants waited until Biden became president to gouge should be investigated by the Justice Department. Prices going up on every last thing for sale must indicate collusion, according to woke economists who think success must be a conspiracy.

The sudden uptick in the cost of everything is almost as bad as when government commandeers a sector. I again blame corporate fat cats. Record profits are qualified by how money is worth way less thanks to inflation, which also must be the fault of malicious conglomerates.

Everyone sadly direct results to experience in case those responsible somehow didn’t realize beforehand that they should worry about planning their own lives before trying to do so for everyone else. Minding their own freaking business is an example the useful set that liberals never heed. I thought Democrats were dedicated to empathy.

Commandeers of liberty don’t believe in cause and effect by rule. Meddling concepts are supposed to be awesome, yet woe spreads in a way prosperity doesn’t. It’s little wonder liberals are so keen on stifling dissent when doing so is the only hope for inflicting their ideology. You stand in the way of communal glory with your antiauthoritarian questions.

0 notes

cy-lindric · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! First of all let me say your art is amazing!!!! The colors are so fresh and the lines are c r i s p !!!

Sorry if this has been asked before, I tried searching for but I couldn't find any similar questions: I assume you first learnt traditional/realistic anatomy, fashion etc art, and then you naturally developed your own art style?

I find it very hard to stray from realism and I don't find it fun, but I can't draw, say, cartoony faces without thinking they look wrong. Any uh, tips? 🥺 should i do studies of artstyles i like to get used to it?

Hi, thank you !

To be fair, I'd already been drawing stylized stuff for a while before I started studying art, so when I actually tried to learn to draw more realistically I had a lot of habits to unlearn. I have a fairly realistic artstyle now, compared to what I did before, and I do notice that as I grow stronger in that direction, cartoony stuff comes less and less naturally. I think it's a normal thing to happen, if you don't stretch both muscles, so to speak.

In your case, gathering a panel of stylized works you enjoy and figuring out what you like about them does sound like a good start ; not really doing a study of a single artist's style, as much as picking up ideas here and there. What kind of lines (or flats) do you like, do you prefer shapes streamlined into curves or broken into dynamic angles, how would you like facial features signified, etc.

I wouldn't worry about it too much, though. What we tend to refer to when we say "artstyle" or "graphic style" is a combination of conscious decisions and mecanical habits, and the latter part tends to outweight the first in a lot of situations, so it mostly comes down to doing something one way enough that you start doing it the same way everytime without thinking about it. It's shaped by the references you try to emulate and your work habits, so it'll come to you. The only thing (and I know it's not always easy), is to keep asking yourself, what kind of art do I want to make ? What would I love to see if this came from someone else ? And the answer doesn't always have to be the same, it should adapt depending on the project and you can look for references accordingly.

#not sure if that helped lol i'm sorry #replies #mmolia #txt

173 notes · View notes

thedreadvampy · 5 months ago

Text

ok so not to sound like a bitter fuck but the way people are reblogging this like YEAH I HAVE THESE EXACT EXPERIENCES #RELATABLE is really kind of how I got in this situation

it isn't that I don't recognise that the traumatic things that have happened to me are traumatic things. it's that:

a) in my experience we tend to cluster together and pick up on shared experiences, like SAME HAT style, bc it immediately pings when you're taking to someone like OH, YOU GET IT. YOU KNOW THE HORRORS. so like we're way more likely to talk about this stuff to other people who've had similar experiences. which is good but also

b) we tend not to really have a baseline for how common difficult or stigmatised experiences are. The categories are kind of "no," "maybe but they wouldn't tell you," "one specific incident" or "more than once".

what that means is my whole life I have been hanging out with people and having conversations with people who largely have experienced X thing as a fact of life.

so first that makes you assume that X is something most people have experienced, which is a whole process to unlearn bc you normalise your own experiences very easily.

but even once you recognise that actually, for example, not everyone HAS had many, or any, experiences of rape, there can be another stage to recognising how common your experiences aren't. which is like. uhhhh what do each of us mean when we say "many"?

because with rape as an example, I have had some conversations with people I've known for years, who I've met through survivor activism, where we're both like, VERY repeat survivors of similar types of assault. and in most cases it doesn't matter whether "this has happened a lot" means 5 people or 30 people because the point is that it's normalised complex trauma which affects you in similar ways once it ceases to be a shocking aberration and becomes part of the normal state of play. so what MATTERS is that it's 'a lot', especially bc raw numbers can be hard to define and bc also there isn't a direct comparability - more incidents doesn't necessarily correlate to a more traumatic overall experience, and anyway formative experience isn't a numbers game, it's a question of whether it's happened enough to be normalised into your models of the world.

and that's what I was reflecting on here, not 'oh I've just realised these are traumatic experiences not everyone has' (and not 'i have it Worse Than Anyone Else' bc see above re trauma not being a numbers game) but the way that I sometimes am like oh lol that's wild because I am confronted with the idea that even when people are like 'oh I have experienced this lots' and I'm like 'oh I have experienced this lots', they're thinking 5 or 6 times and I'm thinking like 30+.

this is difficult to talk about btw because it SOUNDS a lot like dickswinging 'I have the Most Trauma' and I don't think I do, but I do think it's sometimes funny how off my baselines are because like the things I listed above are limited to things that have been major parts of a majority of my relationships (/relevant experiences)

so I only listed stuff that I would say has been relevant in 15+ discrete relationships (except the work thing cause I've only had like 6 jobs and 5 of them went through management collapse, and the A&E thing cause I don't drive so that's limited to the 3 years I was in walking distance of a hospital so it's only like like 8 people) and which I have at some point been talking to someone ELSE who has had that be a recurrent experience, in the context of 'isn't it wild how normal this experience is in our lives', and has the realisation that even in those contexts those things have happened kind of a lot in my life.

and I suspect we all have some stuff like this. because baselining what 'this happens a lot' means is HARD. but I also keep being told by people around me (who are all also People Of X Experiences) that I am still not registering how much of X experience I seem to have had relative to the people around me. which is an ongoing process.

'your experiences are not universal' here means 'that was a fucked up experience you've normalised that isn't actually as common as you think it is'

'your experiences are EXTREMELY ATYPICAL' here means 'even considering that this is a not-normal experience, you have a pretty weird relationship to it compared to other people with similar experiences'

and that's what this is about. and I am being a shitty little bitch about this but given that that's what I'm trying and failing to say here I'm not enjoying people reblogging it like 'YEAH ME TOO I HAVE THOSE EXACT EXPERIENCES' like yeah I know! loads of people do! I'm trying to disambiguate for myself where I stand in relation to a much more specific cohort!

(also honestly I just don't like when people rb my posts about my experiences with 'THIS ME' bc no it isn't it's me. I'm taking about my experiences. I'm me! You're you! These posts are shorthand for some specifics about my experience and even if yours is a very similar experience and set of feelings this isn't about you! It's about me! I'm trying very hard to be more about me!)

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

#red said #this is my fault bc it was not clear what i meant in the post #but that's bc i am using this blog to try and make sense of thoughts so they WON'T always be clear

65 notes · View notes

beatriceeagle · 5 years ago

Note

I'm more of a fantasy than sci-fi person, but consider my interest piqued. Why should I watch farscape?

Okay, the thing is, every Farscape fan’s pitch on Why You, Yes You, Should Watch Farscape ends up sounding very similar, and that’s because Farscape is a black hole that sucks you in and does things to your brain, and after you’ve watched it you are never, ever the same, which incidentally is basically the plot of Farscape.

I would summarize the basic plot for you, but that’s work, and luckily, the show’s credits sequence includes a handy summary that I will provide instead of doing that work: “My name is John Crichton, an astronaut. A radiation wave hit, and I got shot through a wormhole. Now I’m lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship, a living ship, full of strange alien life forms. Help me. Listen, please. Is there anybody out there who can hear me? I’m being hunted by an insane military commander. Doing everything I can. I’m just looking for a way home.“

So let me break down that monologue into its component reasons you should watch Farscape.

1) Some of the strange alien life forms are Muppets.

Farscape a co-production with the Jim Henson Company, and while there are many aliens played by humans in make-up, there are also a considerable number (including two of the regular crew) who are Muppets. By which I do not mean Kermit. I mean really gorgeous, elaborate works of art.

Also, even a lot of the humans-in-makeup aliens just look cool, and incredibly weird. Here’s an alien who appears in a single episode of season 1:

Not that there aren’t, you know, occasional Star Trek-style “these guys are just humans with weird hair,” or whatever, but in general, the aliens on Farscape look really alien. And that’s more than an aesthetic choice; it’s Farscape’s driving narrative principle. The aliens look alien, they act alien, they have alien values.

You know how a lot of sci-fi shows will have a stand-in for “fuck,” like Battlestar Galactica has “frak”? Well, Farscape has “frell.” And also “dren.” And yotz, hezmana, mivonks, loomas, tralk, snurch, eema, drannit, dench, biznak, arn, drad, fahrbot, narl. Some of those are swear words, but some of them are just words, never explicitly translated, that the alien characters will pepper into their speech, because, well, why should translator microbes be able to completely translate all the nuances of an alien culture? You’ll pick it up from context. One time, in passing, a character mentions that he’s familiar with the concept of suicide, but there’s no word for it in his language. I cannot emphasize to you enough how fleeting this moment is; the episode is not about suicide, we’re not having a great exchange of cultural ideas—at the time, the characters are running down a corridor in a crisis, as they are about 70 percent of the time—it’s just that the subject got brought up, and this character needed to talk around the fact that he literally didn’t have a word, in that moment. Things like that happen all the time, on Farscape.

Because more than anything else, Farscape is a show about culture shock. John Crichton is this straight, white Southern guy, at the top of his game—he’s an astronaut! he’s incredibly high status!—and then he ends up on the other side of the galaxy, where none of his cultural markers of privilege hold any meaning, where he doesn’t know the rules, where he literally can’t even open the doors. And he has to unlearn the idea that humanity is central, that he is the norm.

2) John Crichton, an astronaut, is pretty great.

A show that’s about a straight white guy with high status having to learn that he’s not the center of the universe could easily be centered around a really insufferable person, but one of the subtle things that makes Farscape so wonderful is that Crichton is, for the most part, pretty excellent. He has a lot of presumptions to unlearn because almost anyone in his cultural position would, but he’s also just a stand-up guy: compassionate, intelligent, open-minded, decent, forgiving, brave, hopeful.

And the galaxy tries to kick a whole lot of that out of him. It doesn’t succeed, mostly, but if Farscape is about anything other than culture shock, it’s about the lasting effects of trauma. How you can go through a wormhole one person, and experience things that turn you into someone you don’t recognize.

That’s kind of grim-sounding, but ultimately, what I’m trying to say is that Farscape is almost fanatically devoted to character work. Crichton is not the only character who sounds like he should be one thing and ends up being another. All of the characters—all of them, all of them, even the annoying ones—are complicated wonders. And you don’t have to wonder whether the events of the episode you’re watching are going to matter. They will. Everything that happens to the characters leaves a mark. Everything leaves them forever changed. Whether it’s mentioned explicitly or not—and often enough, it’s not explicit—the characters remember what has happened to them.

3) The living ship houses a lot of excellent women, among them the ship itself.

Ah, the women of Farscape, thou art the loves of my fucking life.

There’s Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper (that’s the military that the “insane military commander” hails from) now fugitive, currently learning the meaning of the word “compassion” (literally). She will break your fingers and also your heart. John/Aeryn is the main canon romantic ship.

There’s Pa’u Zhoto Zhaan, a priestess of the ninth level, current pacifist, former anarchist. Sorry, leading anarchist. She orgasms in bright light! (Oh my god, Farscape.)

There’s Chiana, my fucking bestie, a teenage(ish? ages in Farscape are weird) fugitive on the run from a repressive authoritarian state. Chiana is like a seductress con artist grifter thief who mostly just wants to survive so that she can have fun, damn it. Characters on Farscape do not really discuss sexualities (sex, yes, sexualities, no) and it would be fair to say that several of them do not fall along human sexuality lines generally, but I’m gonna go ahead and say that Chiana is canonically not straight.

Then there’s Moya, the ship herself, and it’s hard to get a straight read on Moya’s personality, since she mostly can’t speak. But she definitely has opinions, and things and people she cares about. And she moves the plot, though that gets into spoiler territory.

Past first season, further excellent women show up: Jool (controversial, but I like her), Sikozu (I once saw a Tumblr meme where someone had marked down that Sikozu would lose her shit when someone pronounced “gif” wrong, and that’s absolutely correct, and it’s why I love her), and Noranti (who is incredibly weird, and incredibly hard to summarize, but man, you gotta love her willingness to just show up and do her thing). Plus, there’s a recurring female villain, Grayza, who I could write probably multiple essays about. (I don’t know how you will feel about Grayza, as not everyone loves her, but I think she’s fucking fascinating, especially because she’s not actually the only recurring female villain. We also get Ahkna!)

(Side note: I should mention, here, that the cast of Farscape is really, really white. There is one cast member of color, Lani Tupu, but he pretty much represents the entirety of even, like, incidental diversity in casting for the series.)

Anyway, Farscape is full of awesome women, and also awesome and unexpected men, and it really enjoys playing with audience expectations of gender roles, generally. Literal entire books have been written about the way that Farscape fucks around with sex, sexuality, and gender. It’s a little weird because it was the late 90s/early 2000s, and sometimes that does come through, but Farscape’s guiding principle was always to try not to present American culture of the time as the norm, so like. It is not.

(An aside on Farscape and sex: Literally every character on Farscape has sexual tension with every other character. If you are a shipper, this is a Good Show, because no matter who you ship, there will not only be subtext, you will get a Moment of some kind. Multiple characters kiss the Muppet. Farscape is dedicated to getting into the nitty-gritty of the galaxy—I like to think of it as showing the guts of the universe—so a lot of the show is kind of squishy. They live on a biomechanoid ship, instead of androids there are “bioloids,” there’s a lot of focus on strange alien biologies, and lots of weird glowing fluids and things. I think the sex thing is kind of part and parcel of the larger biology focus: Farscape is really fascinated with how we all eat and evolve and live and die and, well, fuck. Which is in turn, kind of part of its focus on making everything really alien.)

4) Other stuff you should know.

Farscape as a whole is excellent, but it was kind of the product of creative anarchy—an Australian/American coproduction (oh yeah, everyone except Crichton speaks with an Australian accent) that was also partnered with the Henson company, whose showrunners were based in America but whose actual production all took place in Australia, and who was just constantly trying new things. So individual episodes can vary wildly in quality. It really takes off in the back half of season one, but no season is without a few off episodes.

It is extraordinarily funny, and I really think I haven’t stressed that enough. It’s one of the shows I want to quote the most in my daily life, but almost all of its humor is really context-dependent, and if you just wander around going, “Hey Stark? What’s black and white, and black and white, and black and white?” people look at you really funny.

It’s very conversant with pop culture generally (although obviously sci-fi specifically, and Star Trek most specifically of all) and really enjoys deconstructing tropes, often to the effect of, “Well, Crichton really does not know what to do here, does he?” but sometimes just to be interesting.

There are also a lot of themes about science, and its uses and misuses.

The whole thing is fucking epic, and if you get invested at all, will take you on an emotional ride.

This show is weird. I know that that’s probably come across by now, but I think it’s worth reiterating as its own point: Farscape is so weird. Like, proudly, unabashedly, trying its hardest, weird. An amazing kind of weird.

If you’re into fantasy, you should know that there’s a recurring villain who’s just a wizard. Like, they don’t bother to explain it any more than that, he’s just a fucking wizard.

In summary: You should watch Farscape because it is a weird, wild, emotional, epic romance/drama/action/allegory full of Muppets and leather and one-liners and emotional gut punches and love, and if you let it, it will worm its way into you and never let go, which, now that I think of it, is another Farscape plot.

Send me meta prompts to distract me from my migraine!

#farscape #meta

3K notes · View notes

fishmongeringstudies · 3 years ago

Text

scene two, aka whatever is left of this air conditioning unit

this evening i microwaved my first cup of kraft instant mac and cheese. the print on the side said to stick it in the microwave for three and a half minutes and then add in the cheese and stir vigorously, so that's what i did, but when i took it out there was a frothy boiling mess on the glass plate and an ungodly amount of water left in the cup so i poured out half of the water and added the cheese and 'stirred vigorously' and the whole thing tasted kind of like if you tried to describe the experience of going on a rollercoaster to someone whose only experience with transport is a horse-drawn cart, by which i mean it wasn't terrible, because terrible implies that an effort was made to be good. it is my humble belief that kraft instant mac and cheese has never aspired towards anything.

this morning i woke up sweating. the rooms in this dorm don't have a/c, but at least they have me. unfortunately they are likely to not have me too very soon, precisely because they don't have a/c. in hot weather a/c and i imply each other like a pair of lovers in a horrible codependent relationship that starts out on the best possible foot and starts to worry their friends and family when both of them go missing for three weeks at a time and are found in some dingy motel next to the movie theater drinking dorito-infused sprite while marathoning old animated barbie movies and eventually ends with one party riding off into the sunset on a stolen e-scooter and the other one becoming a fitness influencer on instagram. instagram is useful for some things like stalking people you might want to kidnap and stick in your basement for a few days and contacting friends who have progressed past the need for neanderthal-style text messaging. fitness influencers are not one of those things.

did you know? there were a hundred and forty-four freshmen on campus this spring. according to the corny welcome to the class of 2024 post on the admissions blog, there are three hundred and seventy-three of us in total. i stuck the numbers in the calculator app because i have progressed past the need for neanderthal-style quick math; that's thirty-eight percent. did you know? i've been a college student for a year now, and i've only met thirty-eight percent of my own class.

not to be dramatic, but i'm aggressively stirring another cup of kraft instant mac and cheese right now. not to be dramatic but i've stuck a body in your basement. it's a promise ring. what am i promising? i'm promising i'll come see you.

i think if i get a car i will feel like a real american. of course i will never be a real american because 1) i spent eighteen years living in singapore and 2) i have the spiritual capacity of a well-endowed british opera singer and 3) i don't actually want to be one but the idea has its appeals, like pretending you're part of a group with an identity that isn't an obscure gender alignment (chicken) you came up with on the fly (see? chicken). improvisation has always been my strong suit (for my january term class we had to post self-intros on moodle and for my interesting skill i said i was good at improvisational running. someone commented asking me what improvisational running was. i said i could start running at very unexpected times of the day, like in the lunch line or in the middle of an x-ray examination or while i'm brushing my teeth. this spring i've proven myself to be everything, it turns out, but a liar). forgetting where i started a sentence is also my strong suit. confrontation is not my strong suit.

maybe i should learn to drive. but who is going to teach me? every day we stray further from god, like little bath toys stuck in the pacific ocean getting fucked up by the dolphins, who have gotten bored with the lack of traffic recently and have decided to start their own acting troupe. i am writing this under the impression that there are dolphins in the pacific ocean. if i am wrong please do not correct me. ignorance is bliss. blocking the numbers of people who have set fire to your proverbial house (you live in a dorm room, after all, which doesn't count as a real place to come back to) in various interesting ways without meaning to is also bliss.

the mac and cheese was terrible. but all things are the first time you try them. like how your first novel is three pages long in papyrus font size fifteen on a word document your mom unearths a decade later when she's cleaning the hard drive on your computer. like how the first time you go to target by yourself you pin the wrong target on google maps and end up walking beside a highway getting blasted by fumes for half a mile instead of taking a nice cottagecore jaunt through the bougie neighborhood your school is located in. like how your first semester of college is this huge fucky clusterfuck of absolute horsefuckery that's so bad, even your older friends who've already done undergrad and grad school and passed out in a dumpster behind a denny's a few times in their lifetime are kind of impressed with you.

my first semester of college was a three hour dark souls speedrun. now we're stopping to enjoy the scenery. and what wonderful scenery it is! actually it's very bad. summer is boring because it reminds me of home and the geographical location of home is not itself very bad but i was very depressed for a while so the psychological associations will take a while to unlearn, like maybe five months or five decades. that's fine. i didn't come to america to get away from the monster under the bed. i am the monster. and now i am in america the world is the bed and did you know? i'm pretty tall. so it's fine. i'll break this bedframe. i'll shatter it to pieces.

05.22.21

25 notes · View notes

darkmacademia · 5 years ago

Note

hi! i was hoping you could help me out. i’m really interested in the dark academia ‘lifestyle’ (if that’s what you call it?) but not necessarily the fashion. what kinds of things do dark academics do? basically i guess i’m asking how can i be a dark academic? i hope this makes sense. thanks

Hihi! Yes I can definitely give some tips. Dark academia has a lot of associations so you can pick and choose what you vibe with, but here is what dark academia means to me personally:

1) Love of learning: what really stands out to me is the constant searching for new ideas and the love of knowledge. It could mean studying at school really hard, or researching miscellaneous topics in depth because you just love to expand what you know; always being curious. Persoanlly, this also means being open minded to new information and able to unlearn things too. This is related to -

2) Love of reading: as academia itself is tied to reading, many people have a passion for books, literature, and poetry. There isn’t a specific style of book you have to read, but if you like reading try diversifying your genres and seeing if you enjoy the classics, some non-fiction, young adult, whatever you enjoy. Check out your local libraries, listen to audiobooks, keep a book in your bag - whatever works for you! Also you don’t have to read the classic DA books (The Secret History, etc.) unless you actually want to!!

3) Appreciation of art, music, beauty, architecture: appreciating the arts can mean a few things. You can actively go to museums, galleries, read up on artists you enjoy, visit places with unique architecture, listen to classical music and the like. But I feel it can also mean just being aware of the beauty in your environment, and noticing small moments in life that others might miss. Maybe you pass a building that has a particularly beautiful stone archway, or you stop to listen to a violinist outside the subway station, or you tuck a postcard of a favourite painting into your notebooks or doodle meaningful lyrics on a napkin. Not everyone has a huge museum near them!

Let me quickly say what dark academia DOESN’T mean to me:

Being elitist or classist: so much of the aesthetic is rooted in classism, being privileged (e.g. going to private schools and fancy universities, looking down at people who aren’t seemingly as “smart” or “worldly” as you), which I think is harmful to both others and yourself. I believe the true spirit of DA is to be kind and inclusive! There is also the aesthetic of copious amounts of alcohol and drugs and caffeine but personally I try to keep it a healthier lifestyle haha.

There is no one way to enjoy DA, so have fun with it, find your own style, and respect others!

#thanks for the q!#i left out style and beauty stuff but i might do a separate post!#dark academia #dark academia tips #dark academia aesthetic

595 notes · View notes

springsteenicious · 3 years ago

Note

I love seeing Jackie and Hyde as parents (you know I really do), but I also love seeing Red and Kitty as grandparents! How are their relationships with the kids? Do they agree with Jackie and Hyde's parenting style?

Kitty has a really strong relationship with Patti! Patti ends up being pretty similar to Kitty, she's bubbly and she likes to laugh and she's very fun. So they get along really well. She also gets along with Red. Red goes to all of Nicky's soccer games, and he always sits next to Patti, who makes brightly colored signs to cheer Nicky on. They usually come up with a cheer for him, too.

Red actually has a pretty good relationship with Nicky through his athletic abilities. There is a point right after Nicky comes out where Red's like "He can't be gay, he plays sports" and everyone just has to sit him down and have a conversation about gender roles. He gets there eventually and he still goes to all of Nicky's soccer games.

Cassie loves Kitty, they get along well. But she is not a fan of Red. He is a strong Republican, and Cassie just doesn't like it. She understands that he was a surrogate father for her dad and she appreciates that, but her beliefs don't line up with Red's and she just doesn't get along with him. She far prefers WB.

Rosanna... it's complicated. Not to make this sad, but sometimes extended family relationships can be really hard when you're trans. Especially when that extended family was raised in a society where it wasn't widely talked about or accepted very much. I am really not trying to make Red sound like an awful guy, he does try to be better, he just has very solid ideas about gender that are hard to unlearn. Rosanna knows that he doesn't totally accept her, so she doesn't really talk to him that much. She would much rather spend time with Kitty, who is always happy to help her be more girly if she wants.

For the most part, they agree with Jackie and Hyde's parenting. Red doesn't agree with Hyde's intense support and defensiveness of Rosanna at first. They do fight over it for a while. Red will misgender Rosanna and Hyde will just be like, "She is my daughter. Her name is Rosanna. Please respect her just like you respect my other daughters." Hyde does not tolerate any kind of transphobia towards his daughter. Eventually, Red learns to respect that and he respects Rosanna. Once he learns to respect her, their relationship is better.

#kid fic #our house

4 notes · View notes

formerprincess · 3 years ago

Text

A tale written with fangs and claws || Chapter 60

Chapters: 60/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Nolan (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Alpha Liam Dunbar, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Dunbar Pack, Bisexual Liam Dunbar, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Alpha Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Mates, Liam and Theo are mates, Top Theo Raeken, Bottom Theo Raeken, Top Liam, Bottom Liam Dunbar Series: Part 1 of Morning Dew Pack

Liam meets with Luka again and learns a bit more about the other werewolf pack. The friendship is blossoming.

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

"Thank you for dropping me off." Liam climbed out of the passenger seat of Savannah's car and closed the passenger door behind him. "Don't forget to text me!" The blonde yelled through the open window before she reversed her car. Liam waved at her and watched her drive away before he finally made his way to the front door of his house. Luka, Savannah, Maddie, and he had sat together in the bar and talked for a while until they all had to disperse in different directions. Maddie and Luka had matters to attend to in regards to business and coven, Savannah had plans with her friends later on but offered to drop Liam off. He had gladly accepted her offer since it saved him from riding the bus during summer. Would Theo or someone else had come to get Liam? Absolutely but his Betas were not his chauffeurs.

Liam unlocked the door now and stepped into the house. He heard the tv running, the bass of Mike's music coming from downstairs. As always, it filled Liam with the undeniable feeling of home and happiness. Here he belonged. He hung his keys up and walked further into the house. Theo and Mason lounged on the opposite ends of the couch; Theo with a book in his hand and Mason with his notebook. Corey sat in front of the couch table and solved a puzzle. Tim sat in one of the chairs and watched tv. "Hey, you're back." Mason checked his watch. "Way later than I expected you to be. So it was good?" The others stopped what they were doing and turned to Liam. Tim even muted the series he had been watching. "Mixed, I would say." Liam kissed Theo and then sat next to his mate. Theo licked his lips. "Have you've been drinking lemon shots?" "I'm concerned how you got that from just one kiss", Liam remarked. Then he decided to answer Mason's question. "First of, those Alphas really think they're something else. Something I'm not. I don't have enough millions in my bank account to ever have them accept me." "That bad? I'm sorry." Corey grimaced. His parents were like that as well and he despised them for it. "Most of them, yeah. But I met three people who are very cool. First of, Mase, were cheetahs and vampire are a thing." Mason squeaked and pushed his notebook out of the way. "Tell me everything!" "The hotel had such old Hollywood glam style. Not my chic but whatever. First I met Savannah. She's the cheetah. Alpha of a very small pack here in Seattle. Outgoing, very direct, and honest. She talked to me before I even entered the meeting room. Was her first time too. We kind of stuck together. Then we met Meadow, the vampire. She has been to meetings before but she does not like the Alphas. She has a human best friend and told me he also has some notes about the supernatural community. I invited the two of them here cause I thought you and him could maybe check your notes, combine them so to speak. He surely will have things you don't have and vice versa, Mason and Corey." "Great idea." Corey helped Mason with the Bestiary and he would also profit from meeting Asher. If Asher wanted to follow the invitation. Maddie had said it would not be a problem but Liam would wait for clarification from Asher himself. "You said you met three people. Who's the third?" Theo asked. "Luka. He's the only other cool werewolf I met. Also older than us but his pack is from around. They're more modern and open-minded. Like ours is." "Sounds good. All in all, it seemed as if the meeting wasn't for nothing." Mason smiled. "And vampires. Wait! How was she there? Can she walk in the sun? Did the other Alphas wrangle her into the hotel? Is she traveling in a coffin? Did she try to drink your blood? What was she like??" "Jesus, Mason." Corey shook his head. But Liam gladly answered every question his Emissary had. "I'll stay in contact with them", he finally ended and his mate, as well as Consultant and Emissary, voiced their agreement. "Liam?" Tim said shyly. "Didn't you put up a rule of not having strangers come to the house? When you said you invited the vampire and her friend here, are you not breaking your own rule?"

Shit. Oh shit.

Liam had completely forgotten about that rule. Yes, he had told his Betas not to bring strangers into their new home. And here he was breaking his very own rule. Great, Dunbar! "No...I mean...yeah, I did....But...." Tim got up to leave the room. "I mean, you're the Alpha and therefore it's your decision. You can do whatever you want. I just remembered the rule." He gave an insecure shrug and then left the room in the direction of his room. Liam huffed. "You forgot you had put the rule in place, right?" Theo guessed. "Yep." Liam closed his eyes for a moment and scolded himself mentally. Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! "I mean, you are the Alpha. We can still follow the rules but what you do is up to you", Corey suggested softly. Liam's eyes snapped open. "No!" He said sharply. "We're not running a pack like that! If rules are in place, we all have to follow them. Including me. Especially me." "Then you have to decide what to do with that situation. You could always meet with Meadow and her friend somewhere else", Mason suggested. "No. The rule made sense back then but not it's not feasible anymore. And I will tell Tim that."

The young Alpha got up from the couch and marched downstairs to his Beta's room. He knocked, waited a few moments, then opened the door. Liam peeked into the room. "Hey. Have a minute?" Tim had sat on his desk and now spun around in his chair, a mixture of shock and surprise written on his face. But then he caught himself and nodded. Liam walked in and closed the door behind him. "You can sit on the bed if you want." Tim pointed at said furniture piece and Liam sat down on the edge. He rubbed his palms over his thighs. "You're right. I set this rule and I completely and utterly forgot about it. Had you not said anything, it would have left my mind forever. I am sorry about that." "It's okay. As I said, you're the Alpha. You make the rules, you sure can break the rules." Tim tried his best to give off the impression it was really okay. But Liam was stubborn. "It's not okay", he stated calmly. "When I set the rule, it seemed reasonable to me and came from a place of being worried about everyone and our home. I wanted to be absolutely sure nothing could get to us. That was weeks ago. I should have kept it in mind and change it again after Ever cast the spell and we were more secure. I didn't. I fucked up and I am sorry about that." Tim opened his mouth to protest but Liam was faster: "I am grateful for you guys calling me out. Tim, you're my friend, my family, my Beta. You and the others absolutely should call me out when I do something wrong. I'm not perfect and I will make these mistakes. But only with this echo from you, I can improve and become a better leader. I'm not mad at you and you don't have to be afraid to speak up. This rule was okay back then but now is not anymore. Therefore I cut it. Gone! Just like that! thank you for bringing this up. I mean it. But what will never happen is that I set rules for you and then don't follow them myself. This is not the type of leader I wanna be. Okay?" Tim gnawed on his lip. "I would not care so much but this is the first house I am not judged and ridiculed in. I can be myself and I want to protect it as much as I can", he confessed. "So do I, Timmy", Liam promised him. "I would never let anyone in here I might consider not fully trustworthy." Tim considered. "So you trust Meadow and her friend?" "I do, yeah." Liam nodded. "Do you consider them good allies for the pack?" The twenty-year-old had to laugh. "My brain's not wired like that." Liam played with his hands. "Theo is good at that, Mason too. But I don't think strategically. On the lacrosse field, yeah, that's my jam, but not when it comes to people. I meet a person and I either like or dislike them. Maybe I trust too easy and maybe I will make a fool out of myself but then I have to take responsibility for it. I can't, I don't want to meet someone and be like Your name is what? Oh, you will be a splendid ally to my pack. This is not me and I will probably never get there. Hence why I keep Theo around", he joked at the end. Tim chuckled but then sighed. "I know what you mean. I'm not like that either. It would feel...I don't know...like..." They both thought about it. "Like using someone", they both finally said at the same time and this time they both laugh. "Mike is good at it too. To easily find out how people can be useful to him upon meeting them." "Maybe it's a survival tactic", Liam put out a theory. "How can you help me in my current situation to get a better stand and survive. Would explain why Theo is so good at it. He and Mike both needed to survive in a world that didn't want them." Tim raised his shoulders. "My survival tactic is not being seen or heard. Not draw any attention." "Well, I hope you don't feel like that anymore in the house or around the pack in general." Liam sounded like a father, he realized that himself. But wasn't an Alpha supposed to be a father sometimes? Tim shook his head. "Not always. But it's hard to unlearn what I learned for nineteen years. You know, you guys are great! You make me feel welcome! Don't think anybody else, please!"

He moved his hands around and knocked over a small can filled with brushes of all kinds. They clattered to the floor. Liam knelt and helped him pick them up again. "Didn't know you were painting, Timmy. Those are many brushes." His Beta turned a concerning shade of red and stuttered. "I...No...Not...Irgs. I don't paint! Pictures! I don't paint pictures!" "Then what do you paint?" Liam had never seen Tim being creative with brushes in any shape or form. From how his friend acted, one would think he was doing forbidden things with those brushes. "You don't have to tell me, of course. I'm just curious." You could basically see Tim's thought process on his face. Denial, fear, nervousness, fear again, shame. Finally, he pointed to the other side of the room. There was a large board with something tiny on it. Curiosity got the better of Liam and he stepped closer. Tiny little figurines were placed all over the board, along with trees, and various other little things. There was even a tiny truck looking amazingly similar to Theo's truck. And there was a car looking like Liam's. Wait a second. "Are those figurines of the pack?" Tim rushed next to Liam. "I can stop with that if you think it's weird. It's just, I like making those little scenes and take inspiration from real life." He gently pushed a tiny figurine in a blue jersey. A tiny Liam in lacrosse gear, Liam realized. "You've got to be kidding me! This is awesome! Can I touch it?" Liam was in awe. Tim blushed furiously but then gently placed lacrosse Liam on Liam's palm. The young Alpha turned the figurine to inspect it from all sides. For such a small thing, the details were incredibly detailed. "I make the figurines from a special clay and then I paint them. I hope you don't think it's weird. I am sorry if you do. I'm not a creep, I promise!" Tim almost stumbled over his words in his haste to get them out. "You make them? This is incredible, Tim! Why did you never show us this? That's not creepy or weird, this is fucking amazing! You're crazy talented." Liam could not stop praising the guy. And Tim beamed under the praise. Once he realized Liam did not find anything weird about that and actually loved it, he preened. "Does anybody in the pack know you're doing this?" "Mike knows." Tim smiled shyly. "But I made him swear he wouldn't tell a soul. Made him swear on something important to him." "Uh uh. What did he swear on?" Now Tim blushed again. "Our friendship." "Aw." Those two were cute and deserved each other. Mike because he needed a calm anchor in his life, Tim because he needed someone to speak up when he couldn't himself. "But seriously, Timmy, those are cool. I'm not going to say anything but if you ever want to share with the rest, I can already assure you, they will be as amazed as I was. It's a really cool hobby. I imagine it takes a lot of time?" "Oh, it does. But I like to modulate all the figurines and then paint them. It's calm work and I can think while doing it." Tim began chatting about his hobby. Now that Liam knew it seemed like a dam had burst and he could share it with the Alpha. Liam willingly listened.

****** "I'm glad you could clear the air with Tim." Theo pulled the covers back and crawled in bed. Liam was already under the covers and had scrolled through his phone but now put the device away to concentrate on the talk with his mate. "I'm glad too. It is important to me to get those kinds of replies so I can reflect on myself. I'm not doing everything right. But I'm working on it." "You're doing a lot of things already right. The things you're not doing right, well they partly make you Liam. Not perfect but human and very loveable." "How were you ever the chimera of death?" Liam teased and Theo smacked him with his pillow. Liam laughed. "I am trying here to compliment you and you do not appreciate it? You should be ashamed of yourself!" Theo wailed. Liam laughed louder. "Naw, you will survive that one, big boy. You know I love you." To prove it, he pressed his mate down on the mattress and kissed him passionately. Theo laughed into the kiss but returned it soon enough. "I know you love me", he mumbled after they parted. "And I love you, Lee." Liam was proud to hear that and he smirked. His phone chimed and he let go of Theo to grab it. "It's from Luka. He's asking if I want to meet up sometime next week. Cool." Liam already typed an answer. "You really like the three, right?" Theo mused. Liam looked up from his phone screen. Theo was watching him with questioning eyes but there was no sign of jealousy as he had shown with Scott in the beginning. He sighed. "I do. It's strange. They're all older than me and yet they never acted like they had to explain the world to me. Never a patronizing word, never telling me I'm still so young. I was just Liam and from the get-go, I was part of this little gang. I didn't have to prove myself to them. Because it felt like I had already proved myself prior to meeting them and they didn't even care. It was nice. I wasn't...." "You weren't the fourteen-year-old?" Theo asked amusedly and yet with compassion. "Yeah", Liam confirmed. "I wasn't even Liam the twenty-year-old. I was just...Liam." He fell silent for a few beats. "Doesn't mean I will leave you guys behind. You're my family." "Nobody's thinking that!" Theo furrowed his brows. "If we did, we would be bad friends and family members. We all are individuals outside of this pack and we all will make friendships without the pack being involved. If not, we would be one lousy pack. What we are is, happy you found people appreciating you and liking you for who you are." He reached out and pushed Liam's chin up so the couple looked at each other. "Liam, you have so many things going on for you. Your age shouldn't be one of the first things to notice." It was still strange to hear those things with such sincerity and Liam swallowed dryly. "What's the first thing?" He asked softly. Theo smiled lovingly. "Your good heart. And your eyes. Not because of their color - even though it's a beautiful color - but because they shine with such honesty and happiness." They stared at each other, Liam lost for words. He found his voice only after moments passed. "Were you always that poetic?" "You bring out the best in me", the ex-chimera replied and then kissed Liam deeply.

****** "Not to be pessimistic or something but would it not have been better to plant the flowers after the heatwave?" Liam stood in the open front door and watched Brett watering their plants. Nope", the tall werewolf replied and carried on with his task. "Because?" "Because I wanted to do it now", Brett simply answered. He gave Liam a cheeky grin. "That's reason enough." "Why would I ever doubt that?" Liam remarked teasingly. "Careful before I water you. You could use some growing", Brett teased back. The next moment, he was distracted by the red convertible oldtimer rolling into their driveway. The car was highly polished, not one speck of dirt to be seen, and it was sparkling in the sun. "Holy crap, that is awesome." Brett didn't even realize he was watering the ground instead of the plants, too busy staring at the car. It stopped in front of the entrance and Luka in the driver seat smirked. "Hi." "Hi." Liam laughed. "Nice car." "It's the pack car when one of us wants to go for a nice ride. Holden, a pack member, resto moded it but he lends it to everyone. Thought it's a nice day, why not take it?" He took off his sunglasses and seemed quite proud of his Beta's skills. Liam had no interest in cars but it was a pretty one and why not? He had no objections to driving around in this. Mike and Theo came out of the house. "Dude, that car is sick!" Mike jumped down the stairs and rounded it. Luka preened. "I'll forward it to Holden." Theo was also circling the car, as amazed by it as Mike and Brett were. Liam could only shake his head. Who knew those guys were such car freaks? "Luka, that one over there is Brett and that guy there is Mike. And that is Theo." "Nice to meet you." Theo was the only one to actually shake Luka's hand, the other two simply waved and then continued to fawn over the car. "Nice to meet you too", Luka replied. "You're Liam's boyfriend, right?" "I am", Theo proudly confirmed. "Bring him back in one piece." "I swear on my life", Luka promised in a playful serious tone. Liam grunted. "I can hear you guys! Theo, maybe I won't bring Luka back in one piece. How about that?" "As long as you bring the car back in one piece!" Mike cut in and made them all laugh. "Okay, now that some of my Betas embarrassed me in front of you, I'll get my sunglasses and we can go", Liam called out to the older Alpha and ran into the house and upstairs.

It took him a little while to find his sunglasses (he really needed to try and be tidier) but when he found them under some papers, Liam let out a triumphant cry and ran back downstairs. His Betas were involved in a conversation with Luka (surprisingly not about cars) which Liam now interrupted. "I'm ready." "Great. Hop in." Liam opened the passenger door and marveled at how smooth this was going. He somehow expected the door to get stuck because of age. But this car looked and felt like a brand new one. "See you guys later. Don't burn the house down", he joked. "Yes, dad!" All three Betas chimed in unison. Theo smirked and came to the passenger side to give Liam a quick kiss. "Have fun", he mumbled and Liam nodded. "Bye, guys. See you next time!" Luka called out before he started the car and soon they rolled down the driveway.

"You're one of the few people in this car to use the seatbelt immediately", he informed Liam when he turned into the street. The young Alpha looked down. "I do this in every car. My mother drilled this into me from a young age. I could not drive in a car without buckling up." "My mom was like that too. She always said just because were werewolves didn't mean we had to challenge fate. And she got mad if she saw one of us without a seatbelt on. Not just her own kids but basically everyone. There is a story where she refused to drive another Alpha's wife to the airport because the lady refused to put hers on. It's said they sat in the car for forty minutes until my dad went looking for them." Liam started laughing. "That's dedication. It's that the temper you were talking about?" Now Luka laughed. "My mom was stubborn. I'm too. And my sister is as well. Fun times during puberty, I can tell you. Good thing my dad was good at finding middle ground." "Your parents seemed like an amazing couple. Their personalities really matched with each other, from what I already heard." He wanted to know more about his new friend. And Liam wanted to share things about himself as well. He believed Savannah was right, this could become great friendships. "They were the perfect match even though their personalities were as different as they can be. But they balanced each other out. They were incredible Alphas for our pack." "You say Alphas. Were both real Alphas? Or just an Alpha couple?" Luka stopped at a crosswalk and let some pedestrians pass. "Technically, if you base it on red eyes and stamina, my father was the Alpha. My mother was a Beta but no one would have dared to treat her like one. Or like she was just dad's wife and mate. The way she cared for her pack, the way she made decisions, the way she spoke, she was an Alpha. There is so much more to an Alpha than red eyes. It's all about behavior and the relationship to the pack members." "I don't base it on the red eyes. Theo, he's also a Beta, but we call him Second Alpha. He takes over if I can't. We're the Alpha couple. Why should the color of somebody's eyes define their role?" Luka agreed with Liam's point of view. "There are some packs without an Alpha with red eyes. One Beta is in charge and guides them." "I didn't know that, that's awesome. But wouldn't that be an Alpha by conquest in the long run?" "Depends on how serious the pack takes it. Not all packs are focused on Alpha and Betas, some are more lenient. There are so many kinds of packs. Not just different species but different versions. There are also many Alpha Omegas around." "Alphas without a pack? So wolves with the Alpha spark." "Yeah." "Huh." Liam had never considered that. To him, Omegas had always been those wolves. With normal wolf powers. What were normal wolf powers? Betas? Liam guessed so. He never bothered to really make a distinction or think about what exactly Omegas were. "I kind of don't know a lot about the supernatural. I know how to fight and about several evil beings but all those connections between weres, species, what other magical beings are there, rituals, I know nothing about." Luka didn't take it badly. "At what age were you bitten?" "Fourteen." "You're twenty now. Which means I'm twelve years older than you. Trust and believe me when I tell you I didn't know that much more when I was your age. Plus I have the unfair advantage of being born in a werewolf family." He smiled impishly. Liam grinned. Yet he still insisted on his opinion. "I still think the first few years as a werewolf did not prepare me for that."

Thus he found himself telling Luka everything, from how Scott bit him to the hyenas. It was somewhat therapeutic to talk about all this with another wolf without knowing him beforehand. He didn't need to find periphrases for things, could tell it how it happened and didn't need to sugarcoat the events. He also could be as open as possible without having to worry about insulting some old friends. It had been the same with Byron.

He talked until they parked in the parking lot of the restaurant they had picked to grab something to eat. Liam didn't know the place but according to Luka it had delicious food and you could sit outside under trees so it would not be too hot. "See? That's the reason why teenagers shouldn't become Alphas", Luka said matter of factly and killed the engine. "I don't mean this condescendingly but it is what it is. Maybe if Scott had been a born werewolf it would have been different but I understand why this was all complicated. And why you didn't learn about the supernatural community. You had enough other problems to take care of." "I just wished I could have learned more. Maybe being an Alpha would be easier then", Liam mumbled. "Nah." Luka denied. "Becoming an Alpha does not mean you suddenly get access to this knowledge. It's not like a hatch opens and it's flowing into your brain. You have to make mistakes to find your footing as an Alpha." He unbuckled his seatbelt. "I was prepared to become an Alpha after my father's death for years. It could have become anybody in the pack but since I'm the oldest it was kind of expected for me to take over afterward. But it's not possible to really prepare someone for the weight we shoulder as Alphas. For the magnitude of responsibility settling in. It's something we just feel. And every Alpha has to find their own way to cope with that." Liam frowned. "How do I know I'm doing the right thing then?" Luka gave him a brotherly nudge. "I'd say you're on a good way already. When the first Alpha came to town, your Betas followed you into a potentially deadly fight. They were willing to die by your side. That's a type of loyalty you cannot buy or blackmail. It's loyalty coming from the soul and the heart. And it's only happening because an Alpha made the right decision for those Betas. You're young, Liam, one of the youngest Alphas I've ever met but you marched into the Alpha meeting without a care in the world. Do you think any of those Alphas would have done that at the age of twenty? From my point of view, you're doing absolutely great. Don't focus so much on being perfect and rather follow your heart and gut and you're set. You will be fine." It felt good to hear that. Byron told him that often enough but now a second experienced werewolf told Liam the same thing. He felt flattered. Those men saw him as equal, not just as a teenager. Saw eye-to-eye with him and respected him the same way he respected them. Enough to give Liam a soaring feeling in his chest. "Thanks." He clapped Luka's shoulder. "No come on, I'm hungry."

They exited the car and walked to the restaurant entrance. The hostess greeted them with a friendly smile and an even friendlier one when she got the first good glance at Luka. Liam was friends with Brett so this was not new to him. He was flabbergasted still. "How do you do that?" He had to inquire once they sat outside on their table and the hostess left to get menus for them. "Do what?" Luka acted innocently but his grin and the sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. The hostess came back and made a show to slowly put the menus on the table. She didn't pay Liam any mind and that was fine, he was mated, instead just gave Luka a coy smile. "Don't hesitate to ask me in case you need anything." "Will do. Thank you", he repaid her with a charming smile of his own and she left in a slow, seductive motion. On top of the menus, she left a little note with digits behind. "You barely talked to her and still got her number. Brett managed to pull this off as well. How? Not that I will ever need to try since I have Theo but how the fuck do you pull that off?" Liam could not find any satisfying explanation. Luka had gazed back at the hostess but now his head snapped back. "Luck, I guess. And charm, maybe." "Maybe, uh uh." Liam snickered. Luka had a certain boyish charm about him and that made him attractive. Not taking life too seriously, giving everything an easier vibe. Liam also understood the hostess because the deep green t-shirt Luka was wearing brought out his eyes nicely and accentuated his fit body perfectly. "I like sex. What can I say? Everywhere. No matter what country I am." Luka was not embarrassed to share this. "Have you always been like this?" "Frankly? Yeah. I always liked to flirt and when I was old enough to actually become sexually active, I saw no harm in there. I don't play. That's how my parents raised me. My mother always said: Go and have fun with whoever you want to have fun. But don't break hearts if you don't have to. Be upfront. If it's just sex, say it. Saves you and other people heartbreak. I always followed that. Yes, I had relationships but most of the time I have been single and had one-night-stands. Or several night stands. Whatever. The minute I'm interested in someone or in a relationship, I'm faithful. I can't stand cheaters." "That's the right answer. Sex is nice, with the right person even better, but I don't like players. Nice to hear someone having values."

Liam took a look inside the menu. Right on cue, a waiter appeared. "Hello gentlemen, I'm your server for today. Would you care for a drink?" The Alphas looked at each other. "Just water is fine for me", Liam decided. It was hot, despite the trees providing shade, and he would become thirsty, he knew himself. "Water is good", Luka decided himself and the waiter went to fetch their drinks. "You said no matter what country you are in. Are you traveling a lot?" Liam had picked up on that. "For work yeah." "What are you doing for a living?" "I deal in car parts for either oldtimer or pimped-out cars. Like the convertible. Holden is the mechanic, we work together. He screws the cars together, I contract the clients and the manufacturers. We have business all over the world since some of the parts are very rare. So I traveled a lot. For periods of time, I wasn't home for months. I never had my own apartment because it made no sense to pay for something I used. Tried it once and after weeks my landlord called and said he just wanted to check if I was still alive since I never came around. So I moved out again and if I stayed home, I stayed with the Alphas." "And that was okay? For you to be gone so long?" "My parents ket an open door policy. If something important came up, they called us home but aside from that, we were free to leave as long as we wanted. We knew we could always return to the pack house. No matter how late, even in the middle of the night, we were always welcome. We all made use of that rule over the years."

The waiter brought their drinks and took their order. When he left the two alone again, Liam raised his glass. "Good idea to meet up again", he praised. "Well, Savannah said it right, it's the beginning of wonderful friendships. So of course." Luka smiled and they clinked their glasses together. Liam took a sip. Perfect, cool water, he never drank anything better. He put his glass down again and savored the sip. "Uhm, I never got the chance to ask. How many Betas do you have? We're only talking about me." "I don't mind. You're good at telling a story and explaining things. Somebody ever told you that?" Luka had put his glass down as well. Liam made an incredulous face. "No. What would they? I'm kind of dumb." It had slipped out faster than Liam could have stopped it. Luka's frown was almost instantly. "What asshole told you that?" "No one. Life experience, if you will. I'm not the brightest." "You don't have to be a genius but you really don't appear dumb, Liam. Don't believe it when people tell you that. They're just haters." It had the same vibe as a worried older brother giving a stern talking to his younger sibling and Liam chuckled. He was a big brother but not a little brother and yeah he called Scott his brother sometimes but that was different. Maybe because Scott was only two years older than Liam himself. They came from the same walk of life, small town, maybe that was also a factor? Liam could not really put his finger on it but it hit differently with Luka. "Okay", he said to end this topic. "I will remember this talk." "Good", Luka looked stern but then he smiled. "To get back to the question, seven Betas. A few less than you have." He leaned back in his chair. "There is my younger sister Delaney. Younger by three years. An absolute firecracker. If she gets angry, if you piss her off, she will cuss at you and rant for hours if you let her. Especially in the background of a phone conversation. Very entertaining, if I'm being honest." Luka laughed. But the love for his sister was evident in his words. "Then there is Simon. He is...was dad's best friend. They've been to school and college together and he acted like some sort of advisor for the pack. Helped with international deals and connections. He's my godfather and like a second dad. I'm happy I still have him after I lost dad. It doesn't bear contemplating if he would have been also gone..." Luka trailed off. Liam managed a compassionate smile. "I am sorry for your loss. Losing somebody we love is never easy." He touched his collar bone where the Lion King tattoo was hidden under his shirt. Luka appreciated the sentiment. He continued his list on a lighter note. "With Simon came Holden, his son. Holden's just a few months younger than I am, we grew up together." "Holden's mom is not part of the pack?" "No. She never wanted to get married or have kids. Yet she married Simon and got pregnant with Holden. Weeks after his birth she handed Simon the infant and announced: I don't want to be a wife or a mother. Here's the child, I'll leave your life for good. He does not have to search for me, I want nothing to do with any of you. My lawyer will send you the documents where I signed my rights away and the divorce papers. Got her suitcase and left. From that moment on, mom and dad gave a hand to Simon. Holt and I basically grew up like brothers. He annoys Delaney the same way I do." Liam giggled. "Are younger siblings not something fun? I have a younger brother. He's ten but living at the lake." "Aw, they're so cute at that age. And then they start stating their own opinions and become brats." It was obvious Luka didn't mean a thing he said about his sister. They both began to laugh. "Holden's a great guy but he can be a hothead. Impulsive and very brash. Those are not his finest moments and we have to hold him back. But he's fiercely protective of the pack. Would do anything for us. Another one of my Betas is Sandro. Alessandro. My second in command. We met during freshmen orientation in college and clicked almost instantly. Have been inseparable ever since. When I brought him home the first time, mom looked at dad and said: Look, it's Luka in another body. Our parents often joked how they could each take the wrong son home and nobody would notice cause we're so similar. It's eerie. "

Their food came out and they interrupted their talk to thank the waiter and dig in before Luka resumed talking. "Sandro was human when we met but after a while, he noticed my family was hiding something. He confronted me and after consulting with my Alphas I came clean to him. Thank god cause when he was twenty-five, he go involved with a lone Alpha and said Alpha got a bit too excited in bed. Right before a full moon. Sandro showed up at our doorstep, bloodied and already on the verge of transforming. Dad took one look at him and dragged him to the basement where we keep a cage for those things. I stayed with him the whole night and after that, it was more or less clear he would become part of the pack. Sandro helped me a lot after my parents' death. He took charge when I couldn't do it and held the pack together. That's why he became my second in command, just like Theo is for you." Luka drank from his water. "We have two other women in the pack. Bryn and Lynn. Laugh if you want, their rhyming names are a running joke in our pack. Bryn I know for almost her whole life. How fit are you in werewolf genetics?" Liam snorted. "That a thing? I'd give it a solid zero." "To keep it simple: The werewolf gene is dominant most of the time. Werewolf parents will have werewolf children. Even if only one parent is a wolf, the child likely will be one as well. The chances are even higher by born wolves rather than bitten ones. But if you have several generations of werewolves mixing with humans there is a slight possibility to have a human child even as werewolf parents. In Bryn's family case it was the opposite. There had been some wolves here and there, some of them had been in contact with my father's pack, but for generations, there were only humans. Until Bryn was born. Boom. Human parents with a werewolf baby." "You're kidding me!" Liam was amazed at how crazy nature could get. "Absolutely not. But her family knew about werewolves and so they knew the name of my father's pack. They grabbed their daughter and moved closer to us, showed up at our door, and kindly asked my parents to help them. To make having yet another child running around somewhat plausible, we started calling Bryn Delany's and my second cousin. We kept this til this day and mostly refer to her as our cousin. Lynn, on the other hand, was bitten after a night of clubbing and then left to die. Mom found her somewhere in the ditch and brought her home. We were not sure she would survive but that girl is tough as nails. Don't underestimate her." "She reminds me of Sadie. One should never underestimate Sadie as well. She will kick your ass and probably gnaw on your bones without ruining her makeup." "Somehow that description also fits Maddie and Savannah", Luka realized. Liam had to agree with that. "Anyway, you said you had seven Betas. One's missing." "The latest addition to the pack before my parents died. Will. He's Sandro's cousin, full-blood-related this time. They have been close while growing up and he visited one time. This family is good at picking up things and he got curious. We never got to explain to him everything cause a hostile pack attacked and he was wounded badly. Dad turned him in an attempt to save his life. It worked and Will moved to live with us. Funny enough, he and Holden clicked almost as instantly as Sandro and I did. They just balance each other a bit better. Hopefully. One's a hothead, the other is too cocky for his own good sometimes. I think the day these two linked, Simon's world kinda ended. He had several gray hairs more after that day. Lynn once kept a tally which one had to get bailed out of jail more often..." Luka tilted his head. "Huh, wondered what happened to that. I think I was the third place..." Liam smirked and Luka gave him an innocent smile. "I mean, we are all law-abiding citizens and never do anything wrong. We stick together and love each other, as a family should." "So do we. My pack and I. They're my family and I don't want to miss anyone of them." "Tell you what, Liam, why don't you and you pack visit us? We could have a BBQ party. Next Friday, is that good?" "That's a great idea. I'll check with the pack and text you."

__________________________________________________

When I started this story, I imagined how many chapters this might will have and thought sixty was a good number. Now we are at chapter 60 and this story is far from over. I can't believe that. It's absolutely amazing and I want to thank every single one of my readers for the support. You all are amazing! Thank you!!!

In regards to this chapter, I like the friendship between Luka and Liam. They both are on the same wavelength and get each other. And it was fun working out Luka's Betas. In the next chapter, both packs will fully meet each other. I am excited.

#Thiam #A tale written with fangs and claws #Morning Dew Pack series #My writing #alpha!liam

3 notes · View notes

opaquecinnamon · 4 years ago

Text

Evie Frye Headcanons

I want to start by saying this is obviously my opinion, if you want to agree/disagree/discuss, feel free to message me :)

~~~

She gets angry/frustrated when she is hurt. She hates the pain and the embarrassment that goes with showing such weakness

Her pocket watch is always set five minutes ahead, even though she of course is aware of this, it allows her to consistently be on time (or early in her case)

Not only does she collect flowers for Henry, she has her own collection as well. Her favourite flowers are hidden, pressed hard into the pages of her thickest novel. She has a separate shelf for what seems like her favourite books but what is actually her precious flower collection

By no means is this one an original idea BUT, Jacob knows how to braid Evie’s hair. Once he has finally come to the conclusion that he is wrong in whatever argument they had the day before, he makes it up to his older sister by styling her hair for her. Seeing as how the two so frequently argue, he has grown rather proficient at this; her hair being equally as good as when she does it herself. He has had much time to practice as they have done this since they were children, he understands how to gently untangle knots in her wavy dark hair and not pull a single strand too tight

Being an intellectual, she has many interests picked up from years of reading. One of these, Greek mythology. Her particular interests fall to the three fates, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Atropos being her favourite as she chose how to end the life of mortals, something that Evie resonates with greatly. This interest is one that she holds close to her heart and she calls her horse Atropos after her favourite fate

Tying in with the theme of the ancient Greek gods, Evie also enjoys ethical and epistemological philosophy, of course deriving again from the Greeks. (Hey I didn’t say her interests would be all that cool, she is a massive nerd after all).

In 1888 whilst she was searching for Jacob, nearly every night she would write to him. These letters were never sent, but kept to herself, a way for her to talk to him without actually being able to do so. At this time she truly lets her guard down and is not the Evie we see in 1868, much more raw and emotional. Twenty years was enough to unlearn the philosophy of ‘do not allow personal feelings to compromise the mission’ and when it comes to the safety of her twin brother, she wears her heart on her sleeve

Something that attracts Evie to others is their mind. If they are intelligent enough to hold a conversation with her there is a solid chance that she may even develop some kind of feelings for them

Jacob is known for being the witty and flirtatious one of the two but what people tend to overlook is the times when Evie shows these same qualities. The difference between the two is that Evie saves these remarks for when she is comfortable or with someone she knows a little better instead of strangers (unless it involves the mission). Evie Frye is as much of a flirt as her brother and let’s just say that Henry was not the first person she had been with.

Speaking of sibling similarities, did you know that twins have a higher chance of being LGBT? And it’s even higher if one of them is already. Anyway so Evie said bisexual rights and no I do not take criticism, she likes women too :)

#she is just bi let me have this #also wow i did a thing #im just a bitch for her what can i say #evie frye #ac syndicate #jacob frye #assassin's creed #mine

4 notes · View notes

arocharacteradvice · 5 years ago

Note

A minor plot point of my story involves the mc getting in a qpr with his aroace friend. I’ve thought a lot about making sure not to break the aroace chara’s boundaries, but I’m slightly worried I might be overlooking the mc’s desires? If the aroace chara doesn’t want to do things like have sex/kiss but those are things the mc would want from him, would it be wrong to put them together? The aroace chara encourages the mc pursuing other people for those things. Is that good enough?

So, I’m not going to make a definitive statement as to whether putting these two characters into a qpr would be ‘wrong’ or not. I also can’t give much specific guidance as I haven’t read your story and this is a very nuanced topic. (Which isn’t your fault, I’m just explaining why my answers might seem vague) What I can do is give some pointers, and poise some questions of you that might help you figure out if this is a healthy dynamic.

I’ll be addressing the aro side of things obviously as this is an aro character advice blog, but you can go to ace blogs for more info on that, and to be honest most of the advice I’ll be giving can likely apply to both areas.

Ok so first off: You sound like you want to respect the aro character, and not have the mc pressure them, which is a very good start! But I feel like you may still be viewing the dynamic as one where mc wants something, the qp can’t give it, and his boundaries are a problem that need to be solved, just with another relationship in this case rather than ‘curing’ the aro or having them give in.To be honest this is probably on some level because the mc is the main character. As a writer, you tend to think in terms of your protagonist’s goals.

(also, as a note, if you were at all thinking about having the qp giving in and kissing the mc anyway, unless this is portrayed as very very negative, Don’t Do That for the love of positive representation)

Anyway! Please, please be clear in your writing that one person looking for a certain thing out of their relationship, and another person not looking for it, doesn’t mean the first person is hard done by and suffering horribly by compromising. It’s simply a matter of incompatibility in that area.

Especially when the situation with your characters is that one wants romance, and the relationship is queerplatonic. It’s an explicitly purely platonic relationship style! This isn’t a case of person A ‘overlooking’ their desires because of person B, this is a case of person A entering a relationship they know full well will Not be romantic, still feeling unsatisfied because it’s not romantic, and person B having to suggest solutions to something that isn’t technically a problem. Imagine getting frustrated with a waitress because they wouldn’t kiss you. Why would you expect them to? A qpr isn’t a romantic relationship with one ‘faulty’ partner. Don’t treat it as such.

(It’s a bit of a different situation with sex, as qprs can be sexual, but that’s not my area)

Sure, some qprs have more romantic coded elements, but they’re not an expectation. If you’re going to write a qpr, please understand that actions within them are on an equal playing field. kissing and having sex have no more inherent value than holding hands or watching a movie. It’s about what individuals want.

I’m also not trying to say that your mc doesn’t matter. Just that your bias could possibly be tipped towards him. He is compromising by not being able to kiss his qp, and the qp is probably compromising in a bunch of ways too. Maybe the qp wants to live together or get a dog or matching tattoos or go to heavy metal concerts together, and the mc doesn’t. There’s Stuff like that in all relationships, you just need to start also viewing romantic coded activities as Stuff, only with more cultural baggage.

On the topic of the mc having another partner: that sounds to me exactly like a compromise on the qp’s part. Did he go into this relationship wanting it to be polyamorous? Because it sounds like this is something he’s doing for the mc, especially as you say this is about the mc specifically having other partners, not the two of them as a couple becoming open. Even if the qp is enthusiastic about it, doesn’t mean it’s something he particularly wanted out of the relationship, just like the mc didn’t particularity want a non-romantic relationship.

I would also question you as to why the qp is enthusiastic, and whether that’s a character choice or something you’ve done to benefit the mc. Maybe examine whether you have a negative gut reaction to the mc not seeing someone else for kissing/sex, and if so, work on unlearning that. I’m not saying that in your specific situation, the qp must feel pressured or not good enough, but it does happen and it’s worth thinking about how aros would feel seeing a character they’re meant to identify with happily telling their partner to see other people for desires the aro can’t fulfill. I know I personally would feel uncomfortable with it unless it was really well written, as I’ve been in a similar situation myself.

Again, some people are fine with letting their partner do that kind of thing, or are polyamorous in the first place, but I would be very very careful about how you present it, (other aro blogs, and the qpr tag, may help) and consider whether it makes sense for the qp to feel this way based on context and their characterization.

I hope this hasn’t sounded too harsh. I’m very aware that you could have considered all this already, but I feel like I need to cover a lot of ground because I don’t know specifics about your characters and this is a stupidly complicated topic.

A few things to consider adding in or developing further:

Both partners entering or being allowed to enter other relationships. This might change the tone from ‘aros aren’t enough so my mc needs someone else to make up for it’ to ‘no one person has to fulfill either character’s desires!’.

Having the mc realise that he doesn’t actually don’t need to date someone else. Not in a way that reinforces toxic monogamy or the idea of soulmates, but presented as him just working through amatonormativity and decided he’s cool without kissing anyone.

Showing what both characters get out of the relationship, rather than just what the mc doesn’t get. For instance maybe there’s a show just the two of them are into, or the qp buys the coolest presents, or if one is home late the other always waits for them to start eating dinner. Just small things that present them as good for/happy with each other rather than focusing on the one area of incompatibility.

Showing why the qp wants to be in this relationship. I think this would help aro readers feel comfortable, as it’s kind of opt in for aros to date as opposed to alloromantics assuming they will, if that makes sense. We also, as a community, tend not to value our own goals and wants. Does he want that partner label to be able to easily explain what the mc means to him? Making that explicit would probably make him more relatable, and help stop aro readers projecting discomfort onto him. Explaining what makes the relationship fulfilling for him would also show that he doesn’t have to lower his expectations just because he’s not willing to be in a romantic relationship.

You don’t have to employ all or any of these ideas to make the relationship work, I just wanted you to have some options if you read my earlier advice on what not to do and though ‘heck, I did do that though’. You might also want to get some aro sensitivity readers to go through some later drafts of the story, though do be aware that some aros would be uncomfortable seeing an aro character in any kind of relationship. Not every aro will want to read what you write, but that’s ok so long as you consider those who will.

tl;dr: Don’t show the aro character’s boundaries as a hurdle, just a different relationship expectation than his partner. Consider why you’re writing the aro character the way you are, and take into consideration what they both enjoy about their relationship.

Good luck! And I’m so sorry for the long post!

- Mod Kaladin

#Anonymous #mod kaladin #long post #asks #qprs #aro

27 notes · View notes

sketchy-saram · 5 years ago

Text

Just some very personal thoughts I had yesterday, thinking about all the small ways that society--and my mother--taught me not to love myself when I was younger, and how long it has taken to claw myself out of that pit. And that was in a LOVING home. How some people ever manage self-love despite the negativity, I have no idea. But I love all of you, and just know that it might take a while--it may take a LONG while--but you can learn to love yourself, and let yourself be. <3

As I was sitting having lunch yesterday, listening to the cafeteria ladies chat about my new haircut, I thought: is it really so revolutionary, in 2020, for a girl to have short hair? But of course it is. It may be something we're more used to seeing than, say, men with long hair, but it defies traditional gender nonetheless. Yet the older I get, the more I wonder why we feel the need to cling to gender and propriety and tradition so strongly that we will limit ourselves and others. But we do, and we begin so early that it is scary.

I thought about my hair. I thought about the reasons I had for keeping it long, when it was long, and I thought about how I felt now that it was shorter. The truth is, I never liked having long hair. It takes so long to shampoo and condition...it clings to your neck in the summer, and gets in your eyes...I never knew what to do with it or how to style it, and from the ages of 12-18 I almost exclusively wore it in a clam-style clip, twisted back and out of sight, out of mind. Why then? Why didn't I get it cut? Because girls are supposed to have long hair. Because when older women have longer hair, they're weird hippies, so if you want to have long hair, you have to do it while you're young. But at the same time, if you have short hair while you're young, it means that you're a lesbian, which of course IS FINE, but yet not at the same time, because you can tell by the way it’s said that it isn’t something you’re supposed to want to look like.

I used to think that I had to grow my hair out so that it could be styled when I got married, because of course only long hairstyles look good on brides for wedding photos, and at that time so long ago I figured that a wedding would be in my cards soon enough. Except that I still hated my long hair. It was frizzy and thick, but nobody would let me get it thinned--for reasons I still have yet to decipher to this day--so it had no shape and no body, it just...existed. The first time I got a major haircut as an adult was the first time I really felt freedom. It wasn’t even that short...just shoulder-length...but I already felt an inkling of what it was that I wanted, which was to take back my appearance and make it my own. My long hair, to me, said that I was trying to fit in but would always be found wanting, because I wasn’t like everyone else. Short hair said yes, I’m not meant to fit into the box of normal things, so please don’t put your expectations on me--I don’t want them. I hate expectations.

It was, more or less, the same for clothes. I am stocky at best, fat at also-best, because neither of those are evil and are only descriptions. But just like ‘lesbian’, ‘fat’ has connotations for normalcy that are stigmatized; while nobody will come right out and say it (unless you happen to be on an internet forum,) being fat is not the IDEAL description you want to be using for yourself. And so it goes. But it made what was already a fraught experience of existing as a girl even more exhausting, because I wasn’t allowed to look fat. The first time I felt that, in my bones, was when I was still fairly young. Maybe eight? I was bathing suit shopping with my mom, and tried on a two-piece that was very 4th-of-July, American-flag themed. I can still see the white stars and blue-and-red stripes on the top in my mind’s eye. She looked at me troubled for a minute before saying, I guess in the nicest way possible to give your child lifelong body issues, that perhaps we should try the one piece. That day, the way the world would look at me suddenly came into sharp relief; all the parts of myself I should be trying to hide popped out like a hidden picture book in that shopping mall fitting-room mirror. I saw my round belly, poking out from between the two separate pieces of fabric, and realized it was not right. I hadn’t even learned to suck in yet, a subconscious action which I now do as thoughtlessly as breathing because of the off-handed comments my mother would make about girls I saw as skinny who ‘would look much better if they just learned to suck in that little bit of stomach’. This is a game with no winners, I realized so early, but I guess I still have to play. Now I have to consciously try not to suck in, and it is so hard to unlearn.

We, mom and I, talked at first about how I would get thinner because ‘it was just baby fat’; and then, when it didn’t go away, how ‘we can diet together. You’re still young. Your skin will bounce back.’ Shopping at the one cheap store in the mall that sold plus-sizes--on the other side from the straight-size section, and with much uglier options--I learned that plaid ‘will make you look like a lesbian’--seems like that was a theme--so I didn’t get the plaid button-up that I really liked. But now I am almost thirty, and I look back with so much anger and sadness and confusion and regret. Why? WHY did it have to be like that? My mom wasn’t a spiteful or a hateful woman. I know that if she read this, it would break her heart into a million pieces to think that all these things have affected me so much for so long. She didn’t do or say anything that a million other parents haven’t told their kids off-handedly before her, or since. But still, I have to ask the question: why? What is the point?

I don’t want to have children. I’ve given the issue a lot of thought, and it just isn’t for me. But I still feel, strongly, that parents need to put more effort into not saying things that their kids will remember long after they’re said. Let your kids do what they want with their appearance. It truly, truly doesn’t matter. Let them have their hair how they want it--it will grow back. Let them wear whatever fashion they like, and refrain from stepping in with your outside opinions about how the world will perceive those choices. Your children desperately need you to be in their corner; not their first bullies, and not the first words of doubt in their mind. Don’t let your voice be their voice of inner-doubt. Kids are cruel, but they don’t have to be. It is just as learned as using a fork, or going to the bathroom, or turning off the lights. When you say things that you think will help your child not be made fun of, you are teaching them a few things; one, that fitting in is the most important thing a person can do, and it is something to strive for. Two, that you are judging them, and that you are part of the society of which they should be worried about pleasing. Why would you want that? If you support their choices, then sure, maybe you’ll have to console a few tears--but in doing so, you put yourself firmly in your child’s corner, and it becomes the two of you versus the world. They will see you as an ally they can confide in, instead of worrying about talking to you because they’ll only get a ‘told you so’. And in the end, isn’t that what you want to be for your children? Otherwise, why did you have them in the first place?

It has taken me the better part of 29 years to learn to, at long last, finally start to quell the voices of inner doubt that plague my every decision, and even now there are days which are a real struggle. I read an article about an 80-year-old woman who was finally comfortable enough with herself to dress the way she wanted. Take that in. Eighty years. Why has society warped us so much that it takes someone eighty YEARS to do what they want to do, when it isn’t hurting anyone? The way you dress, the way you look; as long as you are legal, it shouldn’t be anyone else’s concern. So the next time you see someone who looks a way you don’t agree with, shut yourself down before you think anything unkind. Change starts there. It gets easier to look at yourself kindly when you don’t keep a judgemental running dialogue about other people in your mind. And learn to let yourself be. We all have those moments that we realized the world would not be kind. Maybe, someday, other people won’t have to have those moments. And wouldn’t that be lovely?

So I keep sliding my hands over my shaved head, enjoying the feeling of the buzzed bits, more authentically me than I ever have been, and I smile when people look at me with confusion. Because at last I look the way I want to look, holding nothing back...and that is so wonderfully freeing.

#personal #writing #sketchy stuff #personal writing #body positive #childhood #cleaning out some mental gunk #long post #writing under the cut

7 notes · View notes