#i'm going to be sorting through things on here

[lemonsoured]

Ngl every time I see posts on here complaining about how much more accepted transmascs supposedly are in queer spaces, I'm reminded how the former leader of one of the local petplay groups in my area was super fucking weird about us specifically.

I think people just. Forget?? That many cis gay men have extreme hangups about the genitalia of trans men just. Existing near them. It's just like cis lesbian TERFs. It goes beyond a genital preference. Bro wore his disgust for "females" in his fucking bio

Down to even "supporting" trans people as long as they were AMAB in his mind. (I have doubts on if his NB friends would appreciate being called "male...")

This is not some extremely rare thing. People just don't talk about it! Gay trans men/mascs, especially those of us who don't pass, aren't welcome in a lot of places! Some people are just Not Normal about us. The idea of trans men raping cis men through deception or "turning them straight" is Not some fringe idea.

It took me like 2 minutes to find this screenshot on KF, reposted by someone who was very happy to see this attitude. There are tons of posts just like this. Christ, you don't even have to go to KF, just check any of the gay male subreddits.

And if, unlike me, you live in an area where there's only one gay bar or one kink group, then you might have nowhere to go. Transmasc people are known to be isolated from community, and it's important to point out that this sort of attitude keeps them from finding safe places to exist and be themselves.

Frankly, it's even kept me personally from feeling like I can freely *exist* in queer male spaces, much less entertain the idea of engaging romantically/sexually. So... jesus christ guys, just try to get some perspective.

Trans people of all kinds have more in common with each other than you think. We need to be able to support each other. Support EVERYONE. Because we're all dealing with this shit.

[blenderbender1811]

I think part of it is that a lot of women have felt left out of action oriented genres when they were kids and so they want to write more action oriented women and a lot of men... let's be honest, they don't know how to write women so they either have them doing the things the guys are doing or they end up sidelined. Look at how many big fantasy franchises have twice as many men in them as women. That feeds back into your point about how women's work ends up being undervalued - maybe not on purpose but undeniably.

I think the best answer is to have a large and varied cast of women with different roles and skills. I tend to find female writers are better about that but there are some stories by men who pull it off. I'm very partial to Tamora Pierce's work, which DOES focus on Action Ladies but there's also really cool women who aren't action types and some like Thayet who have the skills of both.

The second post is so true too! There's so many ways to use the soft power and skills classical ladies had to make interesting resolutions and storylines! Yeah, sure, maybe the man knows how to swing a sword but his lady wife's been in charge of the finances for ages and she's been the one dealing with the business contacts. If he fucks with her she'll guarantee he's broke within a week. Or maybe she's been the one bringing the tenants soup when they're sick and checking on their problems so now they're all very protective of her and they outnumber the soldiers five to one.

So for those of you who would like to know more about what upper class women did, here's a list of skills

1) Have and be responsible for children

2) Oversee the staff (for your household if not the whole house)

3) Ensure wine, ale, mead, beer, etc. are brewing correctly and on time

4) Ensure supplies are put aside for famine, siege and/or winter and being maintained and cycled through so it doesn't spoil

5) Negotiate with traders to sell and buy products

6) Keep accounts for household and the overall house's holdings

7) Ensure everyone is clothed - old nobles clothes get given to servants, old servants clothes get repurposed until it's useless and eventually composted

8) Mediate disputes between vassals

9) When husband is away, overseeing the military forces (make them fed, equipped and trained and behaving)

10) If the castle is attacked and husband is away, the decisions on tactics and orders stop with her (even if commanders are still around, they need to answer for her). If it gets bad, there's a non zero chance they'll be given a bow, a small knife/dagger and armour and have to join the defence

11) Politicking - hosting parties and events, hosting visits, paying visits, picking gifts for occasions, and having a lot of influence over fosterings and marriages

12) Teaching the girls to do this stuff

13) Oversee, monitor, and evaluate people she delegates to, meeting with heads of different departments and random spot-checks

14) Needlework - both making clothes and all sorts of other needlework and decorations - in her spare time.

15) "Keep home happy" with painting, dancing, singing, poetry, music, or going on hunts.

16) Discussing matters of province with counsellors or Lord (or whoever husband is)

17) When the husband is gone, making judicial decisions, supervise rent and tax collection, address problems and hire/fire staff

I don't know exactly how to articulate this but... if you repeatedly show historical fiction women rejecting traditionally female skills/duties and doing swords instead, because swords is obviously the Most Important Thing, you are kind of implying that all the work that has been traditionally done by female hands for millennia was useless all along and not, you know, keeping civilization going. Because it's usually rejected not as a personal preference but as This Is The Important Stuff (male work) and That is The Dumb Useless Stuff (women's work) and that kind of bothers me. The message was supposed to be Vital But Underpaid and Underappreciated, not women's work is insignificant so let's all go do swords.

[misspantymime]

Bat x Family ("A Family Meeting...Sort Of")

a/n: Once again, I forgot to update within the week. I'm ready for any punishment you have for me! Also, did the Batfam seem awkward? I usually don't right all of them together. (///￣ ￣///)

TW: Slight mention of starvation of children (no deaths though!)

Taglist: @c4xcocoa, @shinning-stars, @whognuthis, @dkddkdkdkdkdkdk, @nisarelle, @tree-ag, @welpthisisboringing, @sugary-strawberry-shortcake, @thatoneraeder, @celesteelysia, @scentedwombatarcade, @nxdxsworld, @lonely-entity, @jsprien213, @cocobally229, @kokazuu, @alishii, @misdollface, @charlenexoxo1, @wendee-go, @lunoorbonoor, @rainschnael, @punkandnerdy9, @mintynilla, @nervousalpacalady, @mallowryblog, @sirenetheblogger, @cupid73

Anya Forger! Child! Reader x Yandere! Platonic! Batfam

When Bruce called for a “family meeting”, Dick only had half an idea of what it was about.

More than likely, it had something to do with the trafficking bust that happened less than a week ago. The one that Jason seemed to fumble, despite his protests that the place had been cleared out before he even reached the location. Supposedly, the “product” had been left without food or water for an undisclosed amount of time before the GCPD had gotten a lead, but there had miraculously been no deaths.

That being said, Red Hood wasn’t the only one to drop the ball.

The breakout from Arkham had involved more major threats and the consensus had been that resources would be better allocated to that issue, above everything else. Or, to put more bluntly, the trafficking business, while urgent, just wasn’t to be prioritized at the moment. Which would eventually bite them in the butts later.

Through police contacts, the grapevine, and the ravenous media, Dick had heard less than stellar remarks on the poor handling of it all. Many papers and news outlets were questioning the lack of urgency from the GCPD and the Bats, seeing as some of the most vulnerable people of society’s lives had been put at stake yet appeared to not be on they’re radar. Not to mention the main perpetrators had slinked away unscathed.

So, if Bruce was going to ream them over the poor handling of the case, Dick was more than ready to take it on the chin. Even if the others weren’t.

Which is why when he reached the parlor, Dick was met, not unsurprisingly, with chaotic arguing.

“-admit it, Todd, you failed.” Damian’s resolute assertion was the first thing Dick heard but it was soon followed by–

“Listen, you damn demon brat, I told you already–” Jason was cut off, by Duke trying to placate them all.

“Look, guys, no one expected this, alright? You can’t blame him for that.”

“Incompetence doesn’t justify failure. It was in his territory, so it was his responsibility.” Damian argued just as Tim added his two cents.

“Yeah, but why are we all here, anyway? If he has something to say, he can just say it to Jay, right?” He groaned, rubbing his temple while nursing a cup of coffee. No steam, so they must have been at it for a while.

“Maybe he needs all hands on deck for it or something?” Steph chimed in, lounging on one of many seats, back leaning on one armrest while her legs hung over the other.

Cass simply observed the carnage from the side.

“Hey, hey, look we all messed up, alright?” Dick chided gently, with his trademarked golden boy smile as he stepped fully into the parlor, ”Let’s just see what Bruce wants, okay?”

Someone had to play peacemaker, since it looked like Duke was fighting for his life and Alfred was nowhere to be seen. 

“I hardly see where I–” Daminan started.

“Listen, we all could’ve done better,” Dick reiterated, “We’ll just hear him out and see how we can make this better.”

“I kind of doubt that’s possible” Barbara spoke up, on her laptop and scanning the various pages scrolling across the screen. “This is a bit of a–”

“Shitshow?” Jason prompted.

“Yes,” She sighed, before adding on, “No perps, and the place was, apparently, cleaned out before they got there. The GCPD is still scanning for anything, to be honest, but it’s not looking good.”

Barabara’s olive green eyes soon grew darker as she continued,

“Some of the kids were in critical condition.”

A hush fell over the room, smothering any irritation under a somber atmosphere. 

Just then, the door opened once again and Alfred, proper as ever, strolled in amidst the cold tension, seemingly none the wiser. If anything, the butler almost looked…amused?

“Master Wayne would like to apologize, but it seems he is…preoccupied at the moment.”

“The hell? He’s the one who called us” Jason grouched, flopping down on an armchair. 

 “Yes, but something of utmost importance has come to his attention.”

A sort of sharpness tinged the atmosphere, as they all tensed in anticipation. 

‘What could be so important?’, They all thought.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Bruce was not prepared for this.

He was not prepared for any of this.

 Bruce was ready to leave you to your show– a loud sort of spy cartoon? –but you had other plans, charging him as soon as the words “I have an errand to run” left his lips.

“An adventure!” You cried excitedly, latching onto his suit’s pant leg. “Lemme come!”

“Wha–? No, it’s an errand.” He repeated, trying to slip from your grasp. However, it proved to be far stronger than he expected, as you clung onto his leg even when he swung it to-and-fro rather inelegantly. 

‘I need to get to the cave with the others. Alfred can probably keep her away long enough for me to give them the rundown.’ Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I wanna go with Papa!” You cheered once again, your small hands leaving wrinkles in his pant leg.

“You’ll be bored” Bruce tried to reason with you, “Just stay and watch your show.”

‘She can’t get anywhere near the Batcave.’

And he failed. Spectacularly.

“No, no, no!” You exclaimed, climbing higher up his leg to cling off his waist, “I wanna be with Papa!”

‘This is illogical. Why is she so attached to me right when she got here?’  

You beamed up at him, shamelessly hanging off him like a juvenile monkey from a less than willing tree, “Please?”

“(Name)–” Bruce sighed again.

“Pretty please?” You emphasized in a drawn out whine.

While he was far from a master negotiator, Bruce fully believed he could hold his own in terms of brokering a deal. The social minefield of Gotham’s elite proved to be a formidable challenge time and time again, while the overt battleground of it’s underbelly remained default even for the most hardened of individuals. 

That being said, Bruce Wayne would not fold to a six year-old.

“Papa!”

He would not fold.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Dick stared at him.

Bruce stared past him, through the open doorway.

The parlor remained quiet, but the it’s inhabitants faces spoke volumes:

Alfred contained a chuckle behind a cough and his fist.

Tim raised an eyebrow over his cup of coffee, frozen just before taking a sip.

Jason, faced away from the door itself, did a double take upon shooting a glance over his shoulder. 

Duke’s face seemed to be caught between a gawking expression of shock and a nervous laugh.

Cass–stoic and steely eyed Cass– betrayed the slightest widening of her eyes.

Steph hid a bemused and bewildered sort of smirk behind her hand.

Damian looked aghast, bordering on disgusted.

And Barbara? She simply looked at him over the rim of her glasses.

All the while, you grinned quite triumphantly in his arms, balanced on his hip.

“Uh, B? You got a little–” Dick pointed and Bruce immediately cut him off.

“Yes, I know.” He asserted.

You grinned mischievously as a satisfied giggle escaped you.

“Everyone… this is (Name).”

a/n: Start of the Batfam shenanigans! Hope you stick around to see more! (´｡• ᵕ •｡) ♡

[thesportsprgirl]

Since Lando is involved, there's of course a particular narrative that has popped up around his Monster release and which other drivers deserve it more, so I'm going to get on my professional soap box once again because oh my god shut the fuck up already.

My creds: dual BS in Business Analytics and Marketing. MA in Strategic Communication (thesis on sports PR in the social media age). MBA with a sports economics coursework emphasis. Consultant working in corporate partnerships in a variety of sports, including motorsport.

Based on what I've seen today, people have no idea how much work goes into securing personal sponsors. In order to get a personal sponsorship deal, you and your team have to pitch the sponsor and demonstrate the value that it will bring to their business through things like DATA and RESEARCH. Engagement metrics, impressions, reach, products sold, brand recognition, return on investment, etc.

If a McLaren sponsor does a personal sponsorship of Lando as well, it's because his team pitched and demonstrated that the metrics bear out that it would be worth their money. It's not like oh let's throw money at this kid bc VIBES. Or bc Zak Brown says we had to. I keep seeing people implying that they just picked him on a whim, when things like this take ages to decide, with a ton of data, a ton of research, and a ton of really smart people analyzing it before making the call.

You have to show a sponsor the reasons that they should work with you and why it's worth their money. Lando and Quadrant have done that. And it's a fuckton of work to not only get them, but to deliver the results to retain them. Some of those results are in the form of social media engagement that they've gotten from Lando and his brands likely before the drink was even contracted.

Identifying sponsors, pitching and securing their money, etc. is a multi-billion dollar industry that requires a ton of work, data analysis, content testing, focus group testing, etc. The people saying "it should have been _____" clearly either have a personal bias or don't understand the level of personal brand you have to have to get this sort of a deal.

Lando has larger reach, more engagement, recognizable brands with very passionate followings, etc. when compared to some of the other drivers people are bringing up here. He's selling out merch collection after merch collection after merch collection, and that is not true of 90% of the other drivers on the grid. He sold so many tickets to Landostand that they quite literally BUILT ANOTHER GRANDSTAND. And sold that one out, too! These are things that come with a ton of value to sponsors. Sponsors are seeking out his audience based on demographics. It's not some sort of conspiracy, it's business.

Right now, there are a couple of drivers that are LEAGUES above the others when it comes to the effort they've put into developing their personal brand, ability to drive product, and relevancy within high disposable income and retail-spending fan demographics (Lando over indexes with four key demos: young women, highly educated women, queer men, families with children). Averaged across these "big spender demos," Lando is in the top 2. I can say that based on the data I have at my fingertips.

tl;dr - Monster is looking to sell product. Data says Lando Norris sells product because people actually like him very much.

[mona-risms]

Can’t stop thinking about reader’s family and friends not believing them when they say that they’re dating rumi, bc 1. Rumi is a worldwide famous popstar and 2. Rumi is a literal goddess in her own right and reader is just going insane trying to prove that Rumi is actually their girlfriend.

The moment I saw this ask come through I really did just have to run over here bc as someone with a large family, white siblings and two fuckass extended family ahh friend groups this felt like an obligation. Ofc different groups may respond differently, but 😜

Telling your friends would be a Challenge aka they'll probably laugh your ass out the door. How the fuck did YOU??? Bag THAT fine piece of ass HELLO????? Like okay bae and I'm actually Tom Holland's side piece it's time to wake back up to reality 🫶. You need like proof in pictures, receipts in messages and preferrably her right in front of them. It feels like you're going through an immigration checkpoint. When they actually see that Oh you're Not actually bullshitting and this is actually #holyfcknairball? "THEM?????? REALLY" but tbh at the end of the day they'd support it easily. If you have K-Pop enthusiasts in your group they'll probably freak out and faint but they'll be back up later asking for autographs from her and the other members. My friends would threaten me if I ever fumbled personally

Rumi finds it funny asf but also she's kinda like "my bad", half laughing at you and half sincere bc wow you fr have to prove you're not just being DELUSIONAL. It's okay she'll kiss you in front of them if they want proof, she'll take Any excuse to kiss you :3c

Family would be another thing. You wouldn't even need to supply proof though, she'd wanna make a good first impression on her own. She'd bring like food baskets and gifts and everything, getting to know your family and all that. She'll basically do all the work for you and next thing you know she's basically already invited to the gc and whatever sort of family gatherings you have 🤷‍♀️ atp wedding her would just become a formality LMFAO but if you fumble this they'll kill you. Joke. Maybe. Who knows. But she's like the most likeable person out there, parents fucking love her and yours probably won't be an exception—can't help but stare at how easily she can just. Do it like "is it PR training or is this just like natural for you" "🥰"

My mum would love her and she's very Traditional so 💀. My siblings would personally also laugh me out the door too 🫶 hate them (love them)

[lyricwritesprose]

I mean. I'm not going to tell them.

I listen to the yelling, giggling occasionally and lying in the rain, Fucker motionless on the hilltop beside me. (You spend enough time with a thing, it gets a name. Fucker deserves it. Even though we're sort of friendly by this time, I talk to it and tell it things, although not the most important thing.) I suspect every one of them thinks I've lost my mind, and you know, it's possible.

They, however, have just lost. And they lost because they decided to be cruel.

Uphill, all the time, in rain and sleet and snow and boiling heat, all of which had to be piped in specially because Hades (realm, not entity) doesn't have any unless Hades (entity, not realm) decides to mess with a guy.

You know what else rain messes with?

Messes with the height of the hill. I just had to wait until it got down to the point where they predetermined for Fucker to break loose.

In a little while, I'll see what sort of truce I can wring out of them. It'll have to be a truce, not a victory, they're too vindictive not to poison a victory—but I do think I have a few of them on my side. Hestia is clearly resisting the urge to give me a warm bathrobe and a place to dry off. Athena is consumed with curiosity over how I did it, I could maybe get somewhere if I offer her the solution. Heracles is only a god through nepotism and loopholes anyway, but he figures that if a guy wins fair and square, then a guy wins fair and square, and he's always kind of fought against eternal punishments even if it's partly to make a name for himself. (They say he knows where Prometheus got to, and they also say he isn't telling. I can respect that.)

Right now, though? The rain is nice. I'm gonna lie here a little longer.

You're Sisyphus. After being cursed to roll a boulder uphill for all entirety only for it to roll down when you near the summit, however, after thousands of years you finally reach the hilltop. The gods, especially Hades, are furious and want to know how you broke the curse.

[hoe-in-deepspace]

Im literally obsessed with your blog, and the fact that were practically the same age..their both a warm.balm to my soul 😫! Can i request something from one zayne girlie to another? We all knkw that caleb is considered a panty sniffer but...what if zayne is a bra feeler, and you catch him in the act? (We know he got some crazy hidden kinks as well 🤭). If you decide to do this, then my aether embedded heart will beat once more.

Omg thank you so much!!!! That makes me very happy 🥰 Similar age AND both Zayne girlies??? The universe must want us to be friends 🙂‍↕️ I'm drooling over the Zayne pic bc goddamn he looks breathtaking 😍

You are absolutely right about Zaynie being kinky (it's always the quiet ones) and I could definitely see him having a thing for bras

I haven't really written much fanfiction so there is no guarantee that it'll be good but I did my best for you!

P.S. I made the bra a red lace one to match the red lace panties in that panty sniffer Caleb edit 🤭

Dividers: enchanthings

Caught Red-Handed

Zayne x Reader

CW: Mentions of reader having breasts/wearing a bra but otherwise written as gn as possible (tagging as x fem reader just in case), pre-established relationship, two yearning idiots, Zayne realizing he is a horny freak for reader's bra (pops a boner that's never mentioned again). I think that's everything. Let me know if I forgot anything that should be here please.

Everybody knows that Zayne shows his love and care through acts of service. Which is why he's currently in your laundry room moving your freshly cleaned clothes out of the dryer and into the laundry basket that's resting gently between his arm and hip.

You had casually mentioned to him earlier in the day that you were exhausted from the countless missions the association had sent you on for the past week but couldn't spend your day off resting as there were many things you needed to take care of at your place. You had been putting the tasks off until you had more time and now that you finally had the time your body decided it only wants to rest. To say you regret leaving everything to be done on the same day is an understatement.

When you confided in Zayne about your predicament you hadn't thought he would show up on your doorstep 20 minutes later with your favorite drink in hand along with a small paper bag containing a few sweet treats for you two to share.

Once you both finished eating, Zayne adamantly insisted on helping you with your chores under the guise of not wanting the stress of it all to overwhelm your already exhausted body and heart. You knew he was helping simply because he cares about you but you couldn't resist the urge to ask if he's this caring with his other patients. His response? "Only the ones who cause as much trouble as you." You gasp. "There are others?" you joke with a faux look of shock displayed on your face. The corners of Zayne's lips quirk up ever so slightly before he breathes out a small "No".

Seeing as how Zayne wasn't going to take no for an answer you decided to leave him in charge of washing the laundry since it was the easiest task on your list. You know he works hard day in and day out at the hospital so the idea of letting him take on your biggest tasks on top of all that made a twinge of guilt bubble up in your chest.

Zayne carried the now full basket of clean clothes to your room and sat it down on the edge of your bed before proceeding to fold its contents.

When you had suggested for Zayne to wash your laundry he had politely asked if you wished to remove any intimates you didn't want him to see from the pile. He reassured you that he had no issue with handling such garments and was only asking out of respect for your privacy. You quietly thanked him before sorting through your laundry pile until you had collected all of your intimates to be washed by you later.

Zayne sorted your clean clothing as he folded them making separate piles for your t-shirts, jeans, socks, hunter uniform, etc. Once everything in the basket was folded and separated he began putting them away in the places you instructed him to. The closet was first and once everything that belonged in there was put away he moved on to the dresser. You had specified that your t-shirts go in the top drawer on the left but when he opened said drawer he came face to face with your collection of bras and underwear instead.

Realizing he must have made a mistake when remembering your instructions he goes to close the dresser drawer until a certain red lacy bra catches his eye. He stops in his tracks and stares at the garment with increasing intensity. He gets an overwhelming urge to pick up the bra and feel the delicate lace between his fingers but pushes the feeling down. Or at least he tries to.

Before he knows it he's got the red lacy bra in his hands. He drags his thumb slowly across the underside of the right cup. His fingers follow along down the length of the band before gently making their way to the straps. It's clear to Zayne that this bra serves as fashion over function due to the rather fragile natural of the straps. He imagines how they'd struggle to hold up your perfect breasts (no matter what size they are). The way they'd practically beg to be slipped off your shoulders so they can get even a few moments of respite from their losing struggle with your breasts. After Zayne's careful assessment of the garment he concludes it's rarely worn (if at all) based on the near perfect condition it's in. This discovery brings a sense of relief to his yearning heart. Next he uses his long fingers to stretch the cup out as if it were being worn by you. His breath hitches as he imagines your breast filling the cup. The way the lace would stretch across the tissue as if it were a second skin, giving the illusion that the lace was just another part of your gorgeous body. How despite your breasts being covered there is still very little left to the imagination. The growing tightness of his pants pulls him from his lewd thoughts.

He shouldn't be doing this. He knows it's wrong but he can't seem to get himself to stop no matter how hard he tries. He's never been so drawn to a piece of clothing before so he had no way to mentally defend himself against such an occurrence.

After fighting with himself internally, he cautiously continues running his fingers across the bra tracing the pattern of the lace on each cup. His breathing becoming more rapid and audible as a slight blush creeps across his face and ears. Eventually losing the battle with his intense urges, Zayne slowly drags the delicate fabric across his cheek to then ghost over his lips. A languid sigh escapes him as his eyelids flutter shut. The lace barely touched his lips but it's enough to make him weak in the knees.

While Zayne was busy fighting his demons in your bedroom you were in the kitchen putting away the last of the dishes you just finished cleaning. Suddenly you remembered (a bit too late) that you had rearranged your clothes in your dresser last week to make more room and things were now in a different spot than you had told Zayne they'd be. You mentally scold yourself for making such a mistake. You had given him the rundown on where everything goes while you were busy washing the mountain of dishes that accumulated over the last few days. That coupled with how exhausted you were led to you telling Zayne the spots those clothes used to go.

As you make your way to your bedroom to apologize and correct your mistake you can't help but wonder why Zayne hadn't come out to address it as it had been almost half an hour since he had taken your clothes out of the dryer. Surely he wasn't still folding them? Maybe he just opened the rest of your drawers to figure it out himself? But he had been so respectful of your privacy earlier so there is no way he would have gone through your other drawers without your permission, right? Questions ran through your head as you finally made your way into your bedroom.

"Sorry Zayne I-" you start but quickly cut yourself off as your gaze lands on what's happening in front of you. There stands Zayne slightly hunched over your open dresser drawer with your red lace bra in his hands and a deep blush on his face.

Zayne immediately whips his head in your direction and looks at you with widened eyes before quickly looking back down at your bra in his hands. He's been caught red-handed. He stays quiet for a moment while he tries to come up with any possible excuse that could explain why you found him in such a state. All the while his blush deepens.

You were so caught off guard by the situation that all you can manage to say is "is that my bra?" to which he just slowly nods while still avoiding your gaze. Before you can say anything else Zayne speaks up. "I apologize for my behavior. I don't know what came over me." You notice he still has your bra in his hands and has started nervously running his fingers along it. It's such a small movement that you doubt he even knows he's doing it.

The pieces of the puzzle connect in your mind as you realize Zayne, your usually composed doctor friend you're in love with, was just helplessly touching (and who knows what else) your lace bra he accidentally stumbled upon while you were in the other room. Your face heats up at the implication of the situation. Zayne wouldn't have acted the way he did if he didn't have feelings for you right? Maybe you're reading too much into this? Your mind is plagued with questions that you desperately need an answer to.

Mustering up all the courage you have you slowly move closer and gently place your hand over Zayne's to stop his fidgeting fingers. You both look up at each other and lock eyes. The two of you stand there in silence for a brief moment before Zayne instinctively looks away and clears his throat. He knows he should release your bra from his hands but that would mean removing his hand from your gentle grip. It would mean losing the feeling of your warm palm and slightly pruning fingertips against his cool skin. Zayne may often seem calm and collected on the outside but inside he deeply craves touch and affection. But not just anyone's will do, no, he craves your touch and affection. Which is why he's going to stand here as long as you'll let him with your hand on top of his.

Zayne makes no effort to move from the current position so you decide to take it upon yourself to gently remove your bra from his hands. He shows no resistance to your movement but carefully watches you from the corner of his eye. It's as if he's studying your expression for any signs of anger or disgust. He sees neither on your face but that does little to calm his racing heart.

Once the bra is free from Zayne's grip you drop it into the still open drawer and quickly close it. A deafening silence rings in the air as neither of you know where to go from here. Unable to cope with the lingering silence any longer you spit out the first thing that comes to mind. "I've never worn it. I thought I would save it for a special occasion". Zayne hums softly in response. "What occasion would warrant such attire?" he questions with a teasing lilt in his voice. You exhale a small laugh as some of the earlier tension dissipates. "I'd probably wear it on a date if I really liked the person." you half joke.

Zayne finally turns to face you before uttering lowly, "and if I was your date?" He prays you understand the underlying meaning behind his words. That you understand he's not just interested in seeing you in that risque garment. That he wants to see you in every facet both physically and emotionally. He wants to see you when you're happily gushing about a show you like, when you're sad because your favorite restaurant stopped serving your go to meal, when you're laughing over something he said, when you're too tired to get up for work in the morning because you stayed up late playing a video game. He wants to see you.

He looks at you with a mix of hope and fear in his eyes. Hope that you'll return his feelings and fear that your friendship is over if not. His heart is beating a mile a minute as he awaits your response.

Luckily for Zayne, you understood exactly what he meant. You knew he was never the type to make crude comments so it was clear to you that he was saying a lot more than the words that came out of his mouth. After being friends with Zayne for so long you had learned to pick up on the subtle ways he would express his intentions without actually voicing them. Even after all those years apart this still rang true.

A small smile appeared on your face and Zayne's heart clenched in his chest. Finally, after what felt like hours, you respond.

"I'm free this Saturday if you'd like to find out."

A/N: Ahhh I hope you liked it! I didn't mean for it to be this long but my inspiration was just raring to go apparently. I thought about making it smutty but didn't want it to be too long so maybe I can do a part 2 if people are interested. Never wrote smut before but I read a lot of it so maybe that'll be enough to help. Anywho, thank you for reading!

[runforthehillsbestie]

Sympathy For The Devil

Part 6 - home in the stars

Read the story context and warnings here

It's been four days since you arrived at the Hewitt house, and today's weather is the hottest it's been yet. Luda Mae is fanning herself as she rocks on the porch, the rocking chair squeaking with each push of her foot. Her twin stitches are thin and spidery at her hairline.

"Mercy, it's hot enough to fry an egg out here," she says, and she's probably not wrong.

The mid-morning sun is glaring down with a viciousness that causes even the birds to go still. Nothing but a hiss of dry wind now and then, which only serves to stir up warm drafts and somehow make the heat even worse. You're dressed in cut-off jean shorts and a white spaghetti strap top that you found in the closet. It's washed, but there's a huge stain on it.

You're not wearing a bra and Monty has tried just about everything to get a look at your nipples through your shirt, much to your annoyance. You rest your head against the porch railing and gaze out over the unused farmland that's now covered in weeds and dry grass. The air in the distance shimmers a bit.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Luda Mae questions.

"My mother used to get cranky when the weather was hot," you murmur.

"I don't blame her," Luda Mae says. "Feels like hell opened up."

Just then an unfamiliar figure comes into view around a rusty old truck parked down by the fence, trudging up to the house with a basket tucked under their arm. You tense at the sight of the stranger, but they're approaching with ease like they know this place. Uncle Monty's dog confirms this by wagging his tail once, then flopping his head back down on the floorboards with a groan.

"Oh, look," Luda Mae says. "If it isn't Henrietta!"

Oh, you recall hearing that name before.

"It's quite the day, isn't it?" The small woman says with a smile as she comes to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

She has a long-sleeved cardigan on despite the heat and the dress underneath is faded grey from being worn and washed and hung out in the sun. Her feathery, short hair clings to her sweaty forehead.

"Who's this?" She looks at you curiously.

Luda Mae says your name like it's familiar on her tongue, as though she's known you forever.

"This is a first," Henrietta says with a blink. Her voice is soft and hesitant.

"We're keeping this one!" Luda Mae says, leaning over to stroke your hair.

You give Henrietta a weak smile.

"Here." She extends the basket to you. "A little gift to welcome you to the family."

The basket is full of green beans. You burst into a spontaneous laugh.

"Oh, I used to hate these when I was younger!"

Henrietta's smile fades, and her face goes blank, like the face of a mannequin.

"You don't like them?"

"Oh, I do! Um, thank you," you say hastily, and the smile returns to her face like the sun from behind a cloud.

"Good," she says. "I should go. I need to look after the baby."

"Take care of yourself, now," Luda Mae says.

Henrietta turns and shuffles back the way she came, clutching her arms around herself as though she's cold.

"Is she family?" You ask.

"Something like that," Luda Mae says. "Give me half of those beans. If we snap 'em now we'll have something green for dinner. Some sort of stew, I'm thinking."

The screen door slams and Sheriff Hoyt marches onto the porch with his rifle balanced against his shoulder, like he too has had enough of the heat. "I'm gonna go shoot us some game."

Luda Mae snorts. "What are you going to shoot, Charlie?"

"Eh, I'll find something. We're running out of meat as it is. Where'd those beans come from?"

"Henrietta. I'll have to repay the favor later and send something by," Luda Mae says, snapping a bean.

Sheriff Hoyt tromps down the stairs and gets into his car. The engine rattles and then coughs to life. You watch the car pull away, resting your chin on your palm.

"Where's Tommy? I haven't seen him all morning," you say several minutes later.

"I have him mending some things for me down in the basement. I'd have done it myself, but it makes my head hurt," Luda Mae says. As if she can guess your thoughts she adds, "You sit here and finish up with those beans, girl. Then you can go to him."

You blush and dig back into the basket, poking your thumbnail into a bean and yanking out the stringy part.

"You know, it's good of you to treat him so kindly," Luda Mae murmurs after a while. "He ain't ever had that before."

"He looks scarier than he is," you reply, lifting your shoulder in a shrug. "I'm good at figuring out how people are on the inside."

"Well, that's far more than I can say for those children he used to go to school with," Luda Mae tuts. "Nothing hurts the pride more than rejection."

You look up. "Did he ever try to befriend them?"

"I think he knew his place long before anyone tried to put him in it." She shakes her head and rocks some more, lost in her thoughts.

You're also thinking of your childhood. You never had anyone throw rocks or piss on you like Jeremy said they'd done to Tommy, but there had been other things. Mean words the other kids would throw your way, the filthiest curses they could come up with because they thought it was funny to see how it made you blush bright red. The boys would grab you in places they shouldn't, asking if you had scripture verses rolled up and stuck in there. It was a mercy when your father decided to start homeschooling you at twelve, just as puberty started to hit you.

You bite down your tongue until the sting of pain anchors you back in the present, on the porch you're perched on. You take a deep grounding breath. You'll take being here over being back with your father. By the time you're done with the beans, your hands are sticky and smell like crushed leaves.

"What do I do with them?" You ask as you stand with the basketful.

"Soak them in some salt water and just let them stand until we need them," Luda Mae says, getting comfortable in her chair and closing her eyes. You do as she has asked, leaving the pot of salt water and beans on the stove for later.

You wash your hands and dry them hastily on your shirt before you head down to the basement, easing the heavy door open. You hear the rhythmic clatter of a sewing machine. Surely it would be better to sew in natural light, but Thomas probably finds it more comfortable down here. It's also far cooler, you realize as you make your way down the stairs. The pleasant change in temperature livens you up and puts a spring in your step. Tommy is sitting at his work table. He glances up, his eyes dark and searching.

"Hi," you murmur.

He grunts and spins the wheel some more, leaning in to examine the work he's engrossed in, his grubby fingers turning over the material. You inch a little closer so you can watch. His movements are comfortable and familiar and he handles the sewing machine with ease. The needle stabs through the fabric in a blur. After a few moments, he holds up the pillowcase. The tear has been neatly sown together and it looks almost as good as new.

"Did Luda Mae teach you?"

He nods, glancing at you again, perhaps wondering why you're down here bothering him while he's trying to work.

"Can I help?"

He tilts his head.

"I know I'm not very good at sewing, and I don't know how to use the machine, but I can patch up small holes?" You say hoping you can stay here a while longer.

He remains quiet, thinking.

"There's nothing else to do." You admit. "I'm bored."

He lifts his hand to his jaw and scratches, then he points at the chair in the corner, the same one Charlie made you sit on for your 'punishment' on the second day. You drag it over and set it at the side of the worktable, glancing at him to see if he's okay with that. He plucks a pair of plaid boxers from the pile and holds them out to you. There are a myriad of small holes approximately where the balls should be. You can't help but snicker.

"Are these for Hoyt? What on earth does he do with them?"

At least they're clean, you think to yourself, picking up a needle and proceeding to spend an entire minute trying to thread the damn thread through.

You steal a glance at Tommy to find that he's watching you, one big forearm resting on the table. You jump as you somehow manage to prick your finger and look back at the needle.

"Dammit," you mumble quietly.

He reaches out and you flinch out of habit, anticipating a pinch on the arm for your failure.

"Sorry," you mumble.

He takes the thread from you and lifts it to his mouth. You see a pink flash of his tongue through the mouth hole of the mask as he licks the end of the thread. Then he takes the needle and slips the thread through on the first try and hands it back to you.

"Thanks." You hunker over and dutifully get to work.

Your work is hardly perfect, but the threads are sturdy and will hold. You fall into a rhythm, and when you're done with what you're working on, you go to another piece of fabric. A shirt. Too big for Hoyt and too big for skinny old Monty. There's a single tear in the back.

This is one of Tommy's shirts.

You get to work on it, putting in extra care and trying to make it as neat as possible, trying to guess what could've made that tear. Something fairly sharp, like scissors, maybe, because the edges are barely frayed. You're so engrossed in your work that you startle when Tommy hooks his fingers under your chair and drags the whole thing closer to him. You peer at him over your eyebrows, a silent question on your face. His palm presses against the middle of your back, applying pressure.

You pause with the needle half-pulled through the material, trying to guess what he wants. You soothe your dry lips with a sweep of your tongue. Your gaze darts between his legs, almost subconsciously. He catches your jaw and you look up at him in confusion. This time he presses one hand to your shoulder while the other nudges your back, applying pressure from both sides and forcing you to straighten. He grunts and turns back to his work. You were bent over like a shrimp, you realize. Your mother used to scold you for that. Tommy was correcting your horrible posture.

"That's sweet of you." You reach out to touch his forearm, and he huffs and plucks your hand away, pointing to the shirt.

He wants you to carry on. This is an important task and you're not going to distract him from mending every single item in that basket. Intrigued, you watch him. There's no way you can't tempt him to take a break and do something else more interesting, right? You surreptitiously drop your needle on the floor.

"Oh, whoops. I guess I'll have to get that," you say dramatically.

Your knees thunk softly against the floor. Of course, you don't need to do all that just for a needle. You could've just reached down and picked it up. Instead, you crawl under the table and get comfy between Tommy's legs, scratching your nails gently against the worn fabric of his pants. The sewing machine comes to a rattling halt as he pauses. Boldly, you press your cheek against his knee. He smells like musk and salt and iron, a scent that is slowly becoming familiar to you. He leans back in the chair and looks over his stomach, down at you. His hands rest against his thighs, fingers twitching idly. You take one of those paws and press it against your face. You want him to touch you, you have the sudden urge to be close to him, a pull so strong it makes your eyes water a little. His fingers fan out, mapping your face. His fingers pluck and squish at your cheeks and smooth over your eyebrows like he's memorizing you.

You don't close your eyes, not even when his fingers get dangerously close, brushing over your eyelashes. He takes your jaw and turns your head to the side, callused fingertips following the curve of your ear downwards, pressing lightly against the vein that thumps just underneath your jaw. A warm feeling settles in your stomach. You want to take the initiative for once and suck him off just because you can. You barely manage to cup his bulge before he's suddenly standing and lifting you off the ground with him, his hands hooked under your armpits. The world spins for a moment before he deposits you neatly back in your chair. He gives you the needle and a ragged dishcloth to mend and pats you on the head with a heavy, awkward hand. Your mouth drops open, realizing you've been put to work again.

"Hey," you protest.

The air that puffs out of his mouth almost sounds like a laugh. After that you're content to simply sit in companionable silence, your drifting mind lulled into a state of calm by the rhythmic whir of the sewing machine. Sitting with him is also fine, you decide. Half an hour later the peace is broken by the distant yelling voice of Sheriff Hoyt.

"Tommy!"

Tommy cocks his head, listening.

"Get your ass out here!"

Tommy's chair scrapes back as he stands. The ground trembles with the weight of his steps. He grabs a wickedly curved metal hook from the wall and bounds up the stairs, the quickest you've ever seen him move. You scurry after him into the bright sunlight outside the house. The sun is still high in the sky. You're expecting some kind of trouble, so when you see Sheriff Hoyt casually standing there with his hands on his hips, you pause. Tommy looks confused as well, sweeping the area with his gaze. There are no intruders to be found. It's just Sherrif Hoyt with a piece of rope in his hand that leads to the neck of a comically round brown cow. Reality seems to cleave in two. This can't be.

"Daisy?" You gasp in amazement.

At the sound of her name, the cow perks up, dragging the Sheriff forward as she trots up to you. You come down from the porch to sling your arms around her damp, warm neck. It is Daisy!

"This cow is yours?" Sheriff Hoyt gnaws on whatever is in his mouth and spits on the floor. "How can that be? You live round these parts?"

"In the next town over," you say. "It's pretty far from here, though. I didn't even know Fuller existed."

Sheriff Hoyt startles like he's been shot. "I thought you came from someplace far, Missy! Why didn't you say anything?"

"You never asked," you reply, petting the short velvety fur of Daisy's neck.

His eyes narrow and he thumbs the gun holster at his hip. "You got somebody?"

"No." Your response is short and dry.

"Any family?" He prods.

You laugh, the sound flat and dark. "My father probably hopes I'm dead. No one is going to come looking for me."

"Hmmm," he scrutinizes you. "So you're all alone."

"Which is what you want, isn't it?" You meet his eyes.

"You'd better hope you're telling the truth," he replies. "'Cause it won't be too hard to put a bullet in you yet."

"What's all the noise for, waking me from my nice nap," Luda Mae mumbles as she steps out onto the porch, squinting. "A cow? Where'd you get that?"

"It was wandering around on the edge of town. Looking for water, I'll bet," Sheriff Hoyt says. "Well, I got us supper."

"We can't eat her!" You protest. "She's mine!"

Sheriff Hoyt raises his scruffy eyebrows. "You wanna rethink those words, girl?"

"I-I mean, she's pregnant," you shrink under the Sheriff's cold eyes, feeling a chill pass over you despite the heat. "If we wait until she calves then we'll have two cows."

Sheriff Hoyt grins. "Persuasive, ain't ya? You could sell a porno to a priest if you had a mind to!"

"So we won't butcher her?" You ask cautiously.

"Nah, we'll wait." Sheriff Hoyt strolls towards the porch steps. "Besides," he says, leaning in to hiss in your ear, "Veal tastes much better than some dried-up old cow."

He clomps up the stairs and calls over his shoulder, "Tie her out in the field. Plenty of grass to fatten her up!"

You take the frayed rope collar and tug at it. Daisy is fully grown now, but she follows you all the same, just like when she was a calf herself. Your boyfriend had bought the bony little thing as a birthday present for you and it was the one nice thing he ever did. Having her with you now feels like a gift from heaven. You sniffle, trying to keep from crying.

"Don't listen to that crusty old man, Daisy. Nothing is going to happen to you."

You lead her to an old post and tie her up there, crouching to murmur sweet little nothings into her ear utterly delighted to have your animal friend. Thomas watches from where he's standing by the house, absentmindedly scraping his thumb against the sharp edge of the metal hook he no longer needs. Never in his life has he seen anyone care about a cow. As far as he knows, all they're good for is the slaughterhouse.

* * * *

Dinner smells heavenly, but now that you know what meat you're having, it dampens your hunger.

"Why don't you say the grace tonight, dear?" Luda Mae asks.

You clear your throat and rattle through the Grace. Luda Mae looks surprised at how easily it comes to you.

"Well, ain't that a regular sermon!" Sheriff Hoyt sneers. "You sound just like a preacher."

"My father was something of the sort," you say, and then you wish you could take it back.

Why do I ever open my mouth, you wonder to yourself.

Sheriff Hoyt doesn't care, but Luda Mae is excited, asking you what your favorite book in the bible is. The answer is automatic, Psalms. You have the whole thing memorized, pretty much. From there she asks about your favorite chapter, then the verse. The memories begin to resurface, and you can almost feel the pain in your knees again from kneeling on the hardwood floor and reciting the Psalms. It was one of your father's favorite punishments. Somehow he always knew when you'd stopped kneeling properly and would stomp into the cleaning closet to yank you back onto your sore knees. When you grew older you realized he would often watch you through the keyhole, and that's how he knew. For the longest time you really believe he was like god and knew everything.

"Dear?" Luda Mae says.

"Yes?" You blink rapidly and look at her.

"Eat your food. Everything, now. You need the strength."

You swallow hard and look at the meat you've been served. The pieces are fried, lying in a glistening pile next to the string beans, which are salty and buttery. Sheriff Hoyt is eyeing you, licking grease from his lips.

"You go on now," he says. "You need the protein. Of course, if this doesn't suit your tastes we've got ourselves a nice cow out there. Tommy can butcher it up real nice for you."

Those words feel like a fist that wraps around your heart and squeezes.

I can't, you think to yourself, but you're mechanically spearing a piece on your fork and lifting it to your mouth. I'm doing it for Daisy. Dear, innocent Daisy.

Sheriff Hoyt watches you like a hawk as you chew. You can tell he's waiting for you to choke or push your plate away. He's itching to punish you but he needs a good excuse to do it. You try to think of anything other than the slightly tough meat you're chewing on.

You dart a glance at Tommy but his head is bowed over his food. He has stopped putting his face in his food after Luda Mae scolded him twice for eating like that in front of you, but he still forgoes the utensils, choosing to eat with his hands instead. He doesn't balk or hesitate at all. How could you forget what he is? Hot tears spring to your eyes.

I hate you, you want to blurt out. I hate all of you horrible people.

But you don't. You pick at another piece and chew it halfway before you choke it down. Sheriff Hoyt finally grunts and looks down at his plate. You eat about half before you really can't manage anymore. Nobody says anything though, and the rest of it goes to Uncle Monty's dog.

After dinner, the house grows quiet. Uncle Monty is in the living room, leafing through magazines of skimpily clad women, and Sheriff Hoyt and Luda Mae are in the kitchen arguing about something. Tommy is off somewhere, and you wonder if it'll be pushing your luck if you go to find him. You're still contemplating this when you see the dark, fat shape of Daisy moving through the grass, the rope trailing freely from her neck. You know how she likes to run off whenever she can all too well, so you push open the door and go out to snag the rope. She blinks her long-lashed eyes at you, grass sticking out of her mouth as she chews leisurely.

"How dare you look innocent," you murmur. "You chewed through the rope."

There's a fenced area just a little further out where she'll be safe for the night and you won't have to worry about her escaping. You begin to walk her there. The moment you walk out of the pool of light coming from the house the front door crashes open and Tommy comes storming out. He looks angry, and he's coming right at you. You're reminded of just how huge he is as he easily covers the distance in a couple of strides. He could squash you by accident without even trying.

"Tommy," you say warily. "I wasn't trying to run, I swear. Daisy got loose..."

The rope slips out of your hand and the troublemaking cow in question begins to walk off, but you barely notice, distracted by the large man who looks like he's going to square up with you and knock your teeth out. Well, maybe not, but you never know. You've had your fair share of men who are nothing like who they pretend to be. Your brain is flipping between freezing or fleeing. You take a step back and stumble on a loose rock. The rush of adrenaline from almost falling kicks your brain into flight mode. You burst into a disoriented jog to nowhere in particular, just away.

Tommy chases you with a low growl. You're running simply because you're not sure what will happen if he catches you, now that you've made him angry. The noises rumbling out of him are the promise of your undoing. You only manage to take a couple more stuttered steps before he grabs you, his fingers locking around your upper arm and pulling you up short. Your ears ring.

"No," you shriek, "let me go!"

You flail like a fish on a hook, digging your feet into the ground. Your shoulder pops as you strain to pull away. You're back in that cramped, musty cabin, teeth chattering as your furious father rattles you like a doll. That was always the awful part, how you were unable to get away. He was bigger than you, and could nearly throw you across the hall if he wanted to... A sharp slap on your cheek grounds you, and you just stand there and blink dumbly at the man in front of you. His chest is heaving and his dark brown eyes are filled with something. Concern that he's broken you somehow. You're shocked. You've never panicked this badly before.

"I..." Your mouth opens and closes, but no more words come out.

You're present again, standing in the stifling heat of an early evening, crickets chirping and fireflies blinking in the grass. A brief wind flutters Tommy's hair and he pats it down, then reaches out and rubs your cheek like he's attempting to soothe away the slap.

Sorry, his touch seems to say, I didn't know what else to do, how else to reach you.

You stare at each other. Impulsively, you throw your arms around his stocky midriff and bury your face in his chest.

"I'm okay," you mumble, and you mean it.

For a long moment, Tommy stands absolutely still, then his arms curl around you and pull you closer. Contentment creates a safe bubble around you and for a moment you allow yourself to relax and let go of everything but him. Up at the house a door slams, and your eyes blink open just in time to see Sheriff Hoyt disappearing inside. A twinkle high above catches your attention. There's not a single wisp of cloud in the sky tonight, so the stars look like a glittering blanket wrapped around the Earth.

"Look at the sky, Tommy," you sigh. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Tommy doesn't look up, though. He looks at you.

Inside the house, Sheriff Hoyt is scratching an itchy spot on his neck and glaring out the window.

"So are they lovebirds now or what?" He demands. "Look at that whore, cozying up to him."

"Leave them be," Luda Mae says pulling the curtains over the window to block his gaze.

"She's gonna make Tommy go soft," he mutters, squinting through a hole in the threadbare drapes.

"Well, Tommy could use some softness," she replies, idly touching a hand to her neck. "I've never seen him like this. Not that I can remember anyway."

"Seen him like what, all weak in the knees?" He scoffs.

"At peace."

Part 7 - (Coming Soon!)

@typicalchaos, @slut4acotar, @lovelymindescape, @dabisnympho, @thetoastghost222, @night-shadowblood-writes2, @erosmutt, @lilaclichh and @jillian-mill asked to be tagged! I'll add anyone else who asks <3

@runforthehillsbestie

[dailypj]

(Assuming that you’ve already put some thought into characterizing PJ, tho feel free to ignore this if not! I’m just trying to scope out how to potentially write PaperJam’s character into a fic, since him being sort of a skeptic could mean that he wins the idgaf war too well and has no impact on the central plot yknow)

Do you have ideas for any fun internal conflicts or character arcs for PJ? If there’s a multiverse-threatening conflict unfolding, what would PJ be doing about it, if anything? What mcguffins or circumstances could be triggered that would quickly pique PJ’s interest enough to get involved?

As always my first piece of advice for writing anything pj is to go through the resources provided by his creator, @7goodangel (@-ing in case you wanna put in ur 2 cents, he is ur guy)

Here are the links for:

Pj’s bio

Pj info tag

Pj faq page (bit of a shortcut for the info tag since it holds answers to a lot of previously asked questions, tho not all of them)

now for an actual answer, there's a long ramble under the cut, enjoy

first thing that ik for sure is canon, pj would step in if it's necessary to protect his family (I believe it was a comment somewhere by 7 that stated that pj would go as far as suffocating someone for threatening his kid's life)

if the multiverse being in danger has the capacity to hurt his loved ones I'm sure he'd do something about it, but I think the lengths he's willing to go will vary depending on what/who is causing it and which other characters are joining the fight

Ink for example is definitely an interesting ally considering their past. a conflict between them is pretty much inevitable, especially if you take from canon and had them separated years prior

Now if pj’s loved ones aren't present here, that’s where my guesses on how she’d act get fuzzy. In the past, pj took it upon herself to judge whether certain aus should stay alive or be erased. She believed that what error did was wrong not because it was a massacre of innocents, but because he did it too indiscriminately

(I’d say it was pretty easy to gain a dehumanizing view of others when the 2 biggest influences she had referred to the masses as just fictional characters or anomalies…)

Now, she does indeed spare aus she deems acceptable, but I’m not sure how much she’s willing to risk for them. Cuz like, part of her self-given job is motivated by the want to prove she isn’t a mistake to the man who wants every universe to die

Basically she’s got some pretty dark grey morals and it’s fun to deconstruct them (or make them worse if you wanna go the antagonist pj route, equally fun imo)

now a more headcanon-y idea (aka the trait I tend to exaggerate in nearly every pj varient I've made thus far for angst purposes) is leaning into the whole "I have to be useful to be worthy of anyone's care" thing, and just strongly wanting to disprove bad assumptions/expectations about herself (especially the mistake thing) which couldd lead to her going down a phase of believing she should follow in ink's protector footsteps to try and become more of a priority in his eyes (with the added bonus of keeping fears other characters may have about her "becoming like error" at bay)

does it work? idk but maybe if she just obsesses over it even more the identity crisis will be worth it Slash J

so ya that's my 2 cents on a potential conflict based on canon stuff, absolutely feel free to go ham on whatever direction you feel like taking pj I'm just a big advocate for "learn the rules before you break them" 👍✨

[aetherograph]

With men it's also like, part and parcel with them living in constant terror of not being seen as "man enough". Men aren't allowed to be gentle ever. Men aren't allowed to like animals or want to NOT kill things. Etc etc etc. That's why they get angry. Bc by assuming people don't want to kill things, you are insinuating they are not man enough, that they're weak and "soft".

I'm not excusing it as reasonable! I'm just explaining that's why they're reacting that way. YOU obviously do not mean "I think you're all pussies" because you're so divorced from toxic masculinity such as this that it never occurs to you that caring about animals dying would be gendered. But that's what they're hearing bc of how they were raised. Caring is womanly. Killing is the only manly choice of action toward a wild animal. You are not allowed, as a man, to care about something unless you're angry about it.

You're certainly not allowed to be scared of something if there's a Not Man who isn't, as I learned a couple years ago.

One time there was a rat snake in front of my apartment door in Georgia. The outside hallway my door was on went from the parking lot to a sort of wild area so the animals used it as a passage from sunning spots to hiding spots, and one hot night a person or car or something scared this poor snake on her way through this passage, so she was coiled up by my door trying to hide as best she could. My roommate and best friend @trellanyx went to put out the trash, and opened the door, and called me over, "[Aetherograph]! There's a baby." (she also likes snakes).

But soon enough, a person came along, and I found out our upstairs neighbours were all some sort of French-speaking African folks because this person, a gentleman in a delivery uniform (though I think he was on his way home rather than to a delivery), stopped dead and yelled "SNAKE!" and there was a great flurry of activity and French yelled back and forth from upstairs, and a bunch of people came down and sat or stood on the stairs, not coming all the way down.

I stood there, wearing a long skirt, trying to calmly explain that this wasn't a venomous snake, we don't have venomous snakes that look like this, to the people clustered on the stairs trying to call out to their male comrade on the edge of the parking lot. I was halfway between them. The snake was afraid of my skirt, and struck out in feints a few times, which terrified the people watching, but I just stayed calm, moving back a bit as she struck so she wouldn't hurt me or herself. But I was terrified FOR her, and kept standing between her and everyone as this poor guy tried to edge past me. It was a wide corridor, he had plenty of room, but he was just so scared, and my heart went out to him, and I just said, without thinking,

"Do you want me to hold your hand?" in a very calm, concerned way, holding out my hand. To me, he was just a scared human being, a fellow human being I wanted to help.

I just wanted to help.

But I was a "girl" in a skirt, and I wasn't scared of a snake, and he was. And I guess me offering to hold his hand made him realise he was more scared than a girl, and he snapped "No I do not need you to hold my HAND" and speed-walked past me to the staircase. I was a little startled, but just happy the snake wasn't being attacked, and he had found a way past me.

"You are very brave," said one of the ladies on the stairs, lingering after the men seemed to have gone up. "Or crazy, I don't know which."

"We don't have mambas or anything here," I said. "The dangerous snakes here have a head like a heart shape, and a rattle on their tail, or they are striped red and yellow. They are shy and don't want to waste their venom on you, here. She's just a rat snake. She won't hurt you, she's scared. She just wants to go home."

This went back and forth for a while, because they didn't know at first that I was familiar with why someone that had immigrated from Africa would be afraid of snakes, and also I do not speak a lot of French, certainly not enough to give a science talk. But the ladies were willing to listen, and to chat back and forth to me, and I hope that some of the information I told them helped them not be afraid of our wildlife.

But my compassionate offer to help someone who I saw was frightened? That was not seen that way by that gentleman, because being afraid is not manly.

But at least the snake got away free. She had just eaten, so the stress was hopefully not too bad. I guarded her until all was quiet again, and then went inside to give her space. When I went to check, she was gone. I hope she made it back to the overgrown field.

I still don't fundamentally understand toxic masculinity in terms of how you're supposed to interact with it, but I know enough to understand why men react certain ways to stuff. So yeah. I hope the explanation was helpful.

You know that post I made about telling people not to run over wildlife and joking about people getting mad at me? That is not an exaggeration. Based on a real experience. I used to live next to a lake with a large reptile population and one spring I made a post in the community Facebook page about what types of turtles are native to that area in North Carolina, which ones are endangered/rare, which ones are likely to musk/bite you, telling people to check their boat lifts before docking their boats because aquatic turtles like to sun themselves on structures like that, what to do if you find a turtle nest, how to make a turtle dock so turtles don’t sun themselves on your dock. Helpful turtle primer for those who were curious because we did make little wildlife spotting/identification request posts on the page.

The women replying to the post were like “Wow! They’re so cute! I didn’t know we had so many turtles around here!” “This information is so useful, I can’t wait to tell my kids these fun facts!” and the piece of shit redneck dudes were irate at the post for some reason, they were like “I HATE those motherfuckers! I kill them on purpose! They ruin my fucking lawn! I run over them on purpose. Fuck these turtles. Fuck you bleeding heart hippie fuck.” and it was such a bizarre surreal experience. I was not condescending in the post in the slightest, I was just giving advice on how to help wildlife for people who may be interested. Just an informative post about turtles. And it made them really mad?

[codeword-art]

I don't want this to come off as judgemental or like I'm personally attacking anyone that thinks differently about this specific scene, but I'm not going to lie and say I won't be a bit dramatic/harsh in these statements either. Ultimately I can sort of understand why some may think this is funny or humorous given similar jokes and scenes in other media, but to me personally, I don't. When Henry rescues Hans at Maleshov, and they're discussing the secret passageway and how Hans refuses to take it because of his claustrophobia, I don't think its funny to then physically assault Hans and drag him unconscious through the passageway anyway. Is it easier as a game mechanic, sure. If people are having a hard time getting through this quest the other way, I can understand simply making this option to just move on.

However, to me, that option is not acceptable under any other circumstance when RPing a good or neutral Henry. It'd be one thing if this scene was played humorously, like so many questlines in KCD and KCD2 are, but its not. If Henry presses Hans about not going through the passageway, he damn near has a panic attack, it's actually awful to watch. Hans is dead ass serious about his phobia, says the idea makes him nauseous, and he'd rather take his chances at the front gate. He is damn near close to crying here, while trying to make Henry understand. He is not doing well.

I understand this is frustrating, I'm not saying I wasn't frustrated at first either, from both a players and Henry's POV, but phobias are irrational fears that cannot be controlled, especially in 15th century Bohemia where therapy wasn't even a science yet. Hans has a good reason to be scared, he already was uncomfortable in tight spaces, and his fear was exacerbated during the "Finger of God" quest, and he hasn't really had any time to process what happened. He was immediately kidnapped and thrown into a tiny room with Brabant, of all people.

So to have Hans express this fear, lightly or seriously if pressed further by Henry, and then to think I'd immediately turn around and betray his trust and bodily autonomy to just make my quest objective easier, it's just gross to me. Hans is allowed to make that decision, no matter how annoying it is in the moment.

Also Henry is already weirdly written out of character here anyway, in my opinion. The non-romance options are just weird.

If it was the only choice to make, or if the second option had worse negative outcomes that'd be one thing, but it's just a little more sneaking around a subjectively easy area with light patrol.

Now again, I understand this is just my opinion. I don't think people are monsters for taking this option towards a fictional video game character. I know people like to play evil Henry, or depending on the conversation you have with Hans, some players may not even realize how serious Hans in being here, and surface level it's an objectively easier choice to make. If you're just trying to get through the quest, doing a speedrun, mistakenly misinterpret the scene, or whatever that's fine. We all play differently, I just don't think the choice itself overall is a funny, "Ha-ha, jokes on you Hans."

Also, I think this should lock Henry out of his romance. If I relayed a fear to a dear friend or partner and they actively force me through that fear, especially by choking me out? Yeah, were done. Relationship is over. Hans is far better than I am in that circumstance.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM DATE EVERYTHING (PART 1) *  assorted dialogue from the 2025 video game, adjust as necessary

i ordered this couch, but it popped, and now my kitchen is all wet and covered with wet stuff.

i need you. i need to care for you. it is the reason for my existence.

do you want to go on a date?

can you tell me how the book made you angry?

your life is about to change. hope you're ready.

let's go on a date right now.

trust me, this is going to go super well.

if everyone were friends, the world would be an awful lot safer in my opinion.

i've seen the complications of love. i've lived through the jealous quarrels of hate.

the true bond is one between two friends with none of the intricacies of romantic tension.

i like it much better up here where i can see your face.

hey there, stranger.

we've been sleeping together so many years, it would be a little weird if you didn't know me, don't you think?

it's a shame for someone as cute as you to be alone for so long, isn't it?

will you be bringing someone back here anytime soon?

i do hope you'll come talk to me. it'd be nice to finally get to know each other.

you've caught me at a strange time.

that's okay. i like being naked.

why are you here? what are you doing?

please, please... i'm not ready. not like this.

i've dreamed of this, of meeting you, finally... and now the moment is here, i... i just can't. not yet.

honestly, that's a objectively terrible password.

i get chills just thinking about it.

i would love to answer that for you, but the knowledge would no doubt drive you to madness.

can i be honest about something?

it's just that... before today, i had all these needs, but i couldn't articulate them to anyone.

you're quite the looker, aren't you?

i have had enough attention on me, thank you very much.

i can't say i'm looking for anything too serious right now.

i just want to see you live a little, that's all! stop watching life pass you by! enjoy yourself! kiss someone! kiss many someones!

my senses are heightened when i'm in a mood.

the physical connection between him and me... it is like nothing i have known before or since.

thank you, sincerely, for listening.

you're serious? you're not fucking with me?

do you, like me, enjoy celebrating at the altar of your own glorious form?

i knew i could count on you.

are you as excited as i am?

you are radiant.

i was thinking we could visit some very naughty websites together.

honestly, you're being super disrespectful.

we'll have to work on that enthusiasm.

get out. i've got work to do.

what brings you to the call of night?

i have been waiting in the abyss in search of a companion.

you? i always thought of you as a companion, someone who followed me around and gave me advice. cute, but expendable.

do you enjoy coming here?

i assume you brought your tools and knowledge and... probably a snack of some sort?

i am beside myself with happiness.

what can i do for you?

today was supposed to be my day off.

how much do you think about me?

for you, there is almost nothing i wouldn't do to help you relax.

to know that i'm giving you precisely the thing you want at that moment... oh, it fulfills me. it makes me whole.

as soon as i fulfill your command, your desire, i become the one with the power.

sometimes i cannot resist playing your sensation. just a bit. i am a craftsman and you are my clay.

now i have truly said too much.

i'd be lying if i said i wasn't just a little bit sweet on you.

hold onto me real tight.

[huffelpuff210]

You belong to me now

Dark Mob boss Bucky Barnes x OC Reader

Summary: Regin is Peter's Best friend what happens when Bucky and Steve get a glimpse of you for the first time, Bucky is the most feared boss in the entire country, and what ever he wants he gets, and he wants you.

Notes: Regin and Peter around around nineteen

Warnings: Age gap, forced relationship, forced marriage, violence, obsession, possessiveness.

If Peter wasn't my best friend right about now I would kill him. After my double shift at the hospital, He knocked on my door. Yeah we also live next door to each other, about a week ago he asked me on some advice on how to not show emotion, how to be hard as nails like me...

You see I show little emotion when it comes to people, I barely let my guard down, its how I survived living with my father until I moved out of course. But I don't take too much crap from anyone anymore,

But He asked me, So I did explain to him that the key is to keep your expression the same, that it is sort of like poker, you don't want your opponent to know what you are thinking, if they do then the game is up, 

He nodded agreeing, I did ask him why he wanted to know, He told me he applied for a job as one of the men in Barnes's crew, Even though I wanted to tell him that it was a bad Idea, I supported him, 

Now two weeks later, He needed my cooking skills so to speak, cooking my ass off because he was having dinner with his new boss and his bosses right hand man..

So here I am after shift cooking my famous lasagna, in dark jeans, that hugged my ass a little too well, a flannel and a pair of white tennis shoes. 

"Parker where in the hell do you keep the parsley?" I asked rummaging through the cabinets I am on my toes as I look though the top cabinet, I see a gun, 

"Seriously a gun but no spices?" 

He chuckles entering the room, 

"Mr Barnes says to keep one in close proximity of every room." He says 

"Peter don't call him Mr. Barnes you sound like a teenager." I say as he hands me the spice

"He said not to refer to him by his first name, since were not on a first name basis." He says 

"Then call him boss." I say sprinkling the spice 

"Oh I guess that does work." He says with a chuckle 

I roll my eyes, 

"Honestly how do you even survive without me?' I say in a blank tone, Peter is used to my tone most people take it as offensive or me being a bitch but that is just how I am, 

"I really don't know at this point." He says rubbing the back of his neck, 

"So my tips helped you get the job want more advice about tonight?" I asked putting the dish in the oven, 

"Yes." He says 

"First off stand straight, you are slouching," I say narrowing my eyes at him he straightened up, 

"No talking with your mouth full," I say 

"And go shower and change into something presentable you look like a hobo. and smell like one." I say 

"Yes ma'am." He says with a sarcastic salute, 

"You look like one too." He remarked 

I smirked 

"I'm not the one having a business dinner to impress my new boss now am I?" I say crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes at him

"touché" He says 

"I won't be long." He says walking away 

"And don't douse yourself in Cologne!" I yell 

I pinch the bridge of my nose turning around, bending over to examine the food from outside of the oven, 

                                      Bucky POV 

Me and Steve enter the home of Parker, the kid means well but he acts like he's thirteen calling me mr Barnes, so Steve suggested dinner with the kid just to see how things go. 

We hear talking, 

"Mr Barnes says to keep one in close proximity of every room." We hear Peter  say

"Peter don't call him Mr. Barnes you sound like a teenager." we hear a female voice 

I swear if it's his mother I'm out..

"He said not to refer to him by his first name, since were not on a first name basis." He says 

"Then call him boss." we hear

We look at each other, I like this person already, We peek around the corner not making ourselves known, it was a woman about Peter's age, She had her dark hair in a messy bun, She looked to be about 5'4 maybe 5'3, she had piercing green eyes, she wore dark jeans, a dark red and blue flannel with a grey shirt underneath, 

She was breath taking, 

"Oh I guess that does work." He says with a chuckle 

she rolled her eyes, 

"Honestly how do you even survive without me?' she say in a blank tone, I smirked 

"I really don't know at this point." He says rubbing the back of his neck,

"So my tips helped you get the job want more advice about tonight?" she asked putting the dish in the oven, 

Me and Steve exchange looks, I smirked watching the exchange 

"Yes." He says 

"First off stand straight, you are slouching," she says narrowing her eyes at him he straightened up, 

"I like her." Steve mouthed I nodded 

"No talking with your mouth full," she says

"And go shower and change into something presentable you look like a hobo. and smell like one." she says

"Yes ma'am." He says with a sarcastic salute, 

"You look like one too." He remarked 

she smirked 

"I'm not the one having a business dinner to impress my new boss now am I?" she says crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him

"touché" He says 

"I won't be long." He says walking away 

"And don't douse yourself in Cologne!" she yells

she pinches the bridge of her nose turning around, bending over to examine the food from outside of the oven, and I get a nice view of her nicely shaped ass. Now I'm not much into younger women, But this one... this one I like.

I clear my throat. 

She looks over her shoulder with a bored look, 

"One minute." She says 

We both were a bit confused most people cower at the sight of us, 

She pulls the dish out of the oven taking it over to the table placing it in the middle straightening the dish, 

"Buy my estimate you two must be Barnes and Rogers." She says 

I hold out my hand, 

She takes it, 

"Please call me James or Bucky, and this is my right hand Steve." I say 

She shakes my hand then Steve's 

"Regin, Nice to meet you, I'll go fetch him for you." She says walking away without another word, 

"Oh I really like her." Steve says 

I chuckled 

"She's mine pal." I say with a smirk

[zeondraws]

Making another post about the AMA, as a few questions couldn't be answered on the reddit post before it was closed. Some of the answers were send to the Secret Mode server instead.

So I am listing them all in this post, so I can use it for the wiki. I also asked a few additional questions about Alex, (for example, we were confused if we had two Alex on the rig because of the Alex P. signature. But turns out, Alex Cranstoun is the same Alex who talks to Sunil).

Lead Narrative Sagar: "His full name is Stuart Gibson"

Lead Design Jade & Lead Narrative Sagar - "Spot on, this was definitely our goal!"

Lead Narrative Sagar: "Wait, we completely agree: Billy Chamberlain is DEFINITELY very important! He's the inciting reason for Caz's presence on the Beira D to begin with! Yeah, we have a sense of what sort of person he is, and what happened that fateful evening at the pub in Glasgow. But nothing more we can share here, I'm afraid..."

Lead Narrative Sagar: "Haha! This is the first name of a very important member of the crew. Check out the answers I gave to roses-in-the-abyss and to Icy_Piglet4732"

Lead Narrative Sagar: "Thanks for asking this. It had to do with the overall arc of Mhairi's story. Mhairi, for us, works really well as a foil to Caz. She has more information, plans more, and most importantly, chooses to go into a dangerous situation. True, she doesn't know quite how dangerous it's going to be. But it's a far cry from Caz, who never expected to be running around like mad on a sinking oil rig, and is equipped just with a screwdriver. His final action is exactly what he has grown to be capable of doing. By contrast, no one asked Mhairi to go to the bottom of the North Sea and disturb what was there. She chose to. The most straightforward thing to do, narratively, is to make her pay for that choice, maybe with the ultimate sacrifice. But we wanted to reflect the greater agency Mhairi has a character to do a bit more, and ask the player what they think makes sense for their version of Mhairi. After all, even the game itself opens up a bit more: your version of Mhairi might be more exploratory and less resolute than another, or vice versa. We don't branch very widely in this story, just at the end, so it's not too hard to keep the various realities in our heads simultaneously. It would be a different design challenge if the game were built around branching. Thanks for your question!" Lead Design Jade: "On SWTD we wanted to tell a story about a person who was always running finally deciding to do what's right for his family. A choice would have not given the experience we wanted. But Mhairi has a choice because I think we all deal with grief in a different way. When someone dies you can feel guilty about letting go of that sadness because it feels scary when you built yourself around it. Ultimately you can either let it consume you or let it go and I love that we managed to talk about it in such a way. I think in our mind both ending are open enough that we can do different things with them if we decide to."

Who is Alex/what is his backstory, and what's his surname? (Lo-Honko is my reddit name)

From Sagar: Lo-Honko's questions were quite fun to respond to. But this specific question (the 5th) was ambiguous. There isn't just one body in those two locations: there are two, one in each named spot. In my answer, I only responded to what I thought was being referred to in the second one, later on in the pipe maze, the body with the lighter. But let me expand on both bodies, because I think the first at least has some cool implications about events we never get to see. Once you're down at 237 metres, you get into Mud Pits. (That's the "giant room, split by a fence", as Rob says.) If you make your way through a pipe at the top of the room, you can snake your way into a smaller room, called Mud Handling. That's the one that has a dartboard and also something that looks like a body, buried under some rubble... but also bizarrely with a seeming cross / grave marker? Now that is a weird and confusing thing... is it a legit grave marker? What the hell? This is actually one of the oddest things Mhairi has found to date. It's what leads her, uncharacteristically, to trip over her words. "I-I don't know... body," Mhairi says. Because she can see something Rob can't. It's not just a body. It's a body with debris that seems to have fallen (or been placed!) in the shape of a grave marker. Who would have done that? Presumably the collapse of the rig was an emergency. Who would've had the time, and if they did, why do it in that location? Doesn't seem to be someone in their right mind, and moreover, it'd have to be someone (or some thing) that could have survived such an emergency, present in Engineering and full of confused emotions. --------------------------

The second body (the one holding the lighter in the pipe maze) after you listen to the second data logger recording is Alex Cranstoun. I expanded on this in the AMA and how he got ahold of Finlay's lighter. Alex worked hard on the rig, and he was seen in the first game working with Sunil. He works on the Deck and is always fixing something or trying to keep the rig from falling apart. We get a hint way back when Mhairi discovers the Ganpati murti of just how heavily Sunil's loss was felt, but we don't discover too much about Alex. In fact, Mhairi's quite confused by this body too, even about how it possibly has arrived into the vent. How horrific, if this person died, trapped in the vent. Alex was no less loved by his mates. He was a particularly close co-worker with Sunil. In fact, we see the two of them talking together very early in Still Wakes the Deep. Work on a rig can be very uncompromising and very busy. But there can also be a lot of dead time. You have to make your own entertainment. Sunil, Alex, Archie, and Gregor would sometimes have competitions around who could grow the most luxurious facial hair. Let's just say that Alex did not win this competition... He was determined to get his revenge on Sunil during the darts tournament, and even this did not go his way. Though as a consolation, Alex did manage to win Finlay's lighter off her late in the darts tournament, after everyone was deep in their cups. When the disaster began, and the leccy went out, that lighter was what Alex used to navigate for a little bit while he was running for safety. But it barely lasted a few minutes, before plunging him into darkness. And as the rig listed, Alex tragically tripped and fell into a vent, a slow and tragic end for someone who deserved better.

And for context, this was Lo-Honko's question from the AMA.

"Does the guy from the vents and mudpits have a name? Who is this person Finlay lend her lighter to?"

-

-

Thanks to Liam from Secret Mode for forwarding the Alex questions!!

This is super interesting, this is gonna take a while to put into the wiki. But today I am editing Alex and Archie (I deleted the Cranstoun page and will delete the Dunbar page later, don't touch it!)

I find it important to have sources because some people will think you lie and edit something and claim it's a headcanon. I had to re-edit a page because someone claimed the father-son relationship between Muir and Innes was a headcanon (because of the new memento). I think the person means no harm, but I figured I mention this.

Double check before you edit something, because if you don't have a source for example, you may spread wrong information.

[tofics]

I finally made time to listen to this and I am so glad I did. Let's dive straight in, shall we?

This was my very first time hearing your voice, and I feel the need to point out what a pleasant voice you have, Alex! And I do mean this in the most sincere way, coming from someone who can be very very picky about what voices to listen to. I know this wasn't the point of the podcast, but I had to let you know :)

I took notes while listening, so I'll just be going through them and kind of sort them into something more tangible as I go.

It was awesome getting to hear so many "behind the scene" thoughts from you about your writing. There were a couple of small things you mentioned that I wanted to comment on just for the fun of it:

Something that draws you to a fanfiction is if characters are canonically written. It's funny you should say that, because your characters are some of the most in-tune-with-canon characters that I have ever read. I've mostly consumed your Dean stories, and even in an AU setting (I'm looking at you, Smoke Eater) he is 100% Dean as seen on the show. As far as fanfiction goes, that puts yours on a pedestal imo.

You considered doing something with Dean and Yellowstone for the Jacklesverse Bingo. (insert gif of me hysterically crying and hyperventilating) I've only just started watching Yellowstone this year and I am obsessed. I think you would have fried all my synapses if you had gone down that road, in the best way possible 😁

Hearing you talk about your friends on Tumblr and knowing you've included me in that group felt so so special! I'm so proud to be able to call you my friend on here. 🥹🫶🏼

But now! On to the actual topic of the episode :)

First of all, I found it very interesting that despite your own heritage, you grew up with a white reader in mind. Just goes to show how predominantly a white person is and has been the main character in so much of media that that's what your brain defaulted to.

I also thought your discussion about what makes an OC an OC and where a reader insert stops being a reader insert suuuper interesting. Because that's a genuine question! Where does a blank slate stop being a blank slate, and how much character do you have to give to the reader role in a reader insert fic for the story still to work, right? I loved to hear your take on it, especially where you said that writing reader inserts is basically like writing OCs without giving them a name. - I had never thought about it that way!

But of course, you're right. Because a reader that is an active participant in a story can't be a completely blank slate. They have to be assigned certain traits, not necessarily body-wise but character wise - if you're doing more than a drabble, imo. For there to be dialogue and a story that feels full, that feels alive, the reader has to have some sort of character to be a character.

Which brings me to my next point: projectability is always a thing of perspective and the ability to put yourself into someone's shoes. As far as fanfiction goes, the reader insert genre tries to make that as easy as possible by offering a mostly blank slate (that is very often white-coded, unfortunately, but that's not the point I'm trying to make in this paragraph). I have seen people complain more than once about the character!reader being unrelatable because of certain character traits and/or backstories that were assigned to them, and I wonder: people, where has your media literacy gone? Do they not teach to adapt to a person's perspective via literature in schools anymore? Must all media cater exactly to your every taste, down to each very nuance?

And I write all of this distinctively separating characteristic traits from body traits. I am not at all talking about the lack of ethnic representation within the x reader genre.

I love how you give personality to your reader characters, Alex. Especially when it comes to your own representation. You said in the podcast that you were worried about how the traits you assigned to your reader in the Midnight Espresso-verse would be received by your audience and that you received great feedback. I want to reiterate that by saying how despite myself not having the same background as you, I could absolutely relate to the plus-size aspect of the reader, as well as her love for cooking. You said it so beautifully in the podcast, that this version of the reader is one that came from the intent of Dean having a (Latino) girlfriend that nurtured him in the same way he nurtures the people around him, and I fully 100% could relate to that as well :)

Which might be my very complicated and long way of saying: Please do not worry about how much the reader can adapt to the traits you're giving to the character!reader. If most character!readers have been predominantly white for the longest time and so so many people that where not white made it work, then so can we white folks when we are given a reader that does not fit all of "our" typical criteria.

It made me very happy to hear that you're seeing more and more diversity within the SPN fandom these days. I've spent most of my time in the PPCU fandom this past year and all across it, but specifically in the Joel Miller fandom, there have been too many racist instances. It's great to hear that it's going better in other fandoms!

Which brings me to my next point - the anon request you got that led you to writing Unravel Me 👀 Wow. I haven't read it yet. It was on my TBR list anyway, but hearing you talk about how it came to be and how much thought you put into it (understandably so) it's now an absolute must-read for me. (Sort of unrelated but still related: I've seen your playlist covers for the story, and - wow??? A masterpiece??? Visually, I mean?! The EFFORT. I'll be speaking about this in a second, but I needed to mention it now in case I forget! Gorgeous!)

Another point that had me thinking a lot was the question about how much of an immigrant's identity should be kept and how much should be adapted to the country they've moved to also captivated me. I know US politics in regards to immigrants are ""problematic"" atm to say the least, and it's been a widely discussed topic over here in Germany for years now as well, especially with the heavy influx of immigrants over the past years. I can't imagine how complicated it must be, figuring out a sense of self that both fits to where you live and still keeps the core parts of who you are and were before coming to said country.

I want to wrap this up by saying how incredibly impressed I am every single time I hear/read about how you prep for your stories. I think you are by far the most in-depth fanfiction writer that I know. You put so much research into it, and not just for The Honorable Choice, but everything you put out. I'm struggling to find the correct words to properly express how admiring I find it, especially for a story like The Honorable Choice where you take on the perspective of someone of a different ethnic background than you.

You are an inspiration, Alex. Truly.

Thank you for welcoming me into the writing space when I came back. Thank you for answering every question I had, and thank you for the work you put into all of your stories.

To you, to your talent, your inspiration and work ethic, and to many more stories to come! 🩵

Racial & Ethnic Representation in Fanfiction

[🎙️ Podcast Interview]

Hey, friends! Sandra and Kasey, the lovely hosts of @idlingintheimpalapodcast — the podcast for all things SPN and fanfiction — invited me back on the pod for an interview on a topic that's very close to my heart…

With @rubyvhs, we talked about the fun moments and challenges about reading and writing fanfiction that represents specific racial and ethnic cultures, being bicultural/multicultural, the immigrant experience, and much more.

I offered my own experience as a Latina POC writing in the fandom space, specifically Supernatural and The Boys (and adjacent Jackles fandoms).

Check it out here: ⤵️

Interview Timestamps –

(Plus fic recs, SPN writer/reader shoutouts, and more! Links to all the fics we mentioned are at each time stamp.)

2:54 – When did you start writing fanfiction, and when did you join SPN fandom?

⟡ You can check out my first author interview with Sandra and Kasey over here. We chatted about Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles’ early roles, the best and worst seasons of SPN, the joys and pains of writing Soldier Boy, and much, much more. For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

6:18 – What is your ethnic, racial, and cultural background? (And how me and Sandra bond over “food and family” ties between Hispanics/Latinos and Italians.)

13:05 – The immigrant experience in America, what you take with you from the “Motherland,” the struggles of bicultural identity, my personal experience being a second-generation child of an immigrant family, and Sandra’s experience as a first-generation child of Italian immigrants.

16:58 – What do you look for when you’re reading fanfiction? (Canon-compliant, AU, romance, etc.) Does the length of a story matter?

19:52 – Bonus: The merits of drabble writing vs. long-fic writing.

25:54 – Have you ever actively searched for fanfiction that represented your ethnicity? (Whenever I do, it’s like finding gold.) Plus, the challenge of writing reader characters, the “gray area” of writing reader characters like OCs.

32:38 – The inherent “bias” of reading and writing reader characters as White. The concept of diversity being “cool” in popular media, TV shows, and movies is still pretty new.

36:36 – Why I started writing reader characters that might have a specific body type, race, and/or ethnicity.

Examples:

⟡ Midnight Espresso – Dean Winchester x Plus-size Latina!Reader

⟡ If I Stay – Dean Winchester x Plus-size!Reader

⟡ 10 ‘Til Midnight – Professor!Dean Winchester x Plus-size Grad Student!Reader

⟡ Unravel Me – Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader

⟡ The Honorable Choice & Outlander – Cowboy!Dean Winchester x OFC

40:14 – The fun challenges: like giving Dean a partner who takes care of him as much as he takes care of others in Midnight Espresso.

45:28 – The BIG challenges: like writing Soldier Boy being himself with a “person of color” (POC) in this new series, Unravel Me. What even is a POC? Where do you start with Soldier Boy, the Sandra-proclaimed “bowl of fishhooks?"

51:38 – Is there ever an element of fear when you publicly post a story that represents your culture, which is something very personal to you? What happens when you get haters in the comments?

1:05:33 – When and how did you begin to break out of the “ingrained biases” in your writing? (AKA: Always assuming my own characters are White.)

1:08:04 – When did you decide to explore writing plus-size!readers?

1:13:20 – What has your experience been in writing a race/culture outside of your personal experience? The Honorable Choice and Outlander, a western AU where Dean Winchester falls in love with a Native American Lakota Indian. (Shoutout to @jacklesversebingo!)

Plus, the ethical responsibility to “do no harm” when you represent different cultures, and answering question of not only can I write this, but should I write this?

1:32:42 – What advice would you give a writer interested in writing about a culture outside of their own that they don’t have first-hand knowledge of? How can a writer avoid cultural appropriation if their goal is cultural appreciation? How important is a sensitivity reader/beta reader for this effort?

1:40:35 – Final thoughts on diversity and representation of culture in fanfiction, whether it’s your own or someone else’s:

“Write what you know. Write what you can research. Write what you’re interested in. Remember that words have power, so be careful how you use them.”

1:45:30 – Sandra and Kasey’s outro: The importance of representation and diversity in fandom.

I hope you enjoy the ride!~ 💜

💗💗💗 Shoutouts to some of my beautiful friends and lovely readers who've supported my attempts to explore ethnic and cultural diversity in my writing:

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @rizlowwritessortof @roseblue373

@tofics @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @deansbbyx @waywardlatina

@supernotnatural2005 @wayward-dreamer @spnwoman @waywardxwords @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean (shoutout to your 500 follower fic challenge at around 19:52 😘) @siampie @bettystonewell @wvffles

@iprobablyshipit91 @my-stories-vault @littlesoulshine @thatonewriter15 @jessjad

@deans-spinster-witch @winchestergirl2 @kazsrm67 @chernayawidow @jackles010378

@jollyhunter @leigh70 @foxyjwls007 @beakaleak32 @alwaystiredandconfused

[do-you-like-this-mha-ship]

I'm going to stop posting on here for the time being

Alrighty, now that I've hopefully gotten your attention, I've got some bad news, and some kinda good news maybe?

I wanna first start by saying I'm really really sorry about the inconsistency in posting over the last while. Mental health hasn't been the best lately, to say the least lol. And I know it's likely not a big deal and I apologise a lot for this, but I said I'd be at least relatively consistent, and I have not been at all, and I feel like absolute crap for that :(

Apology out of the way, I am going to stop posting polls here, at least for the next several months, though that may extend much further

The main reason being I am currently working 2 jobs, so I'm working a lot more than I had been, and it was hard enough to keep up then lol. And with all the other things going on in my life rn, unfortunately they take priority over Tumblr. Out of all my blogs, this one is by far the most mentally and emotionally draining to run, so if I have to cut one out, it's gonna be this one

I feel like I've gone through the vast majority of ships here, though, so we had a pretty good run, I'd say

Now, I may come back to this when I have my life somewhat sorted out or at the very least, when I have more time and energy. If that happens, I'll likely do a blog restart of sorts. Nothing is guaranteed, but I'd like to return to this someday!

And I will still continue reblog ship art/fics/other media when I find it, so this blog won't be entirely empty lol

I've finished off the rest of the ship requests in my inbox, and any future ship submissions will be deleted

I will, however, keep my inbox open, just in case anyone has anything important they need to tell me (An unlikely scenario, but not an impossible one)

I've known I had to make this post for over a week, but it still makes me sad to do it lol

(If you want, you could also check out my main, @call-me-chips, I'm much more active there and post mha art sometimes, if you wanna see that)