Text
If you're a Hazbin Hotel Kinnie that's not your own O.C I officially have beef with you. I'm in my "Anti Kinnie" villain era and I'm done.
First of all, I'm so sorry for not having proper context for the screenshots, dude was typing at me so fast and just attacking me so quickly and refused to let up for me to catch my breath, and I knew if I was gonna say what I needed to say and bounce, then I knew that I had to start getting those screen shots quick because I knew how this situation escalated was gonna be so fucking funny, man...
All this for saying that if I was Viv, I probably wouldn't have *confirmed* the cannibalistic Serial Killer as being her only asexual representation and people had a right to critique it and then this Alastor Kinnie in this 21+ server with me turned it into "so you don't want Viv's characters to be morally gray and evil even though they're in hell?' and I was like: "I literally didn't say that", and then "Al" ignored me, and I didn't feel like being attacked and ganged up on by another group of radiodust kinnie, so I went off and said my piece and was clearly about to leave:
Cue these weebs acting like I literally did not say I was just leaving or was about to, and acting like Brandon Rogers ableism doesn't exist:
But see, now I'm apparently "transphobic" and in need of "a warning", even though I clearly deadass just said the words "OH BABY I'm already gone ... "
AGAIN LETS JUST IGNORE HOW 'ROLLING ROBBIE' DISRESPECTED DISABLED PEOPLE AND HOW I WAS 'BOUT TO SAY THAT THIS GUYS KINNIE S/O SHOULD JUST PICK A DIFFERENT NAME IF HE WANTS ME TO TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY BECAUSE, FICTIONAL CHARACTERS AREN'T REAL ....
(Blatantly ignoring how I just implied/said I would be leaving/not acknowledging how Rogers' BLATANT ABLEISM is fucked up to begin with, because as soon as I mention any sort of ableism in this fandom I'm the one who needs to "cool off" again, acting and talking at me as though I hadn't already made up my mind, making new edits to the conversation my crippled arse can't even keep up with.. Acting like having a fictional characters name for your chosen Queer Name and then shouting "TRANSPHOBE!" when people make fun of you for it isn't already the most High School thing ever...When I know that in turn if I jokingly replied that I can't "Take a step back" because wheelchair user, their big ol' anime titties would have exploded... )
(I literally introduced myself into this server as a High Femme Queer Trans She/They, aspiring Drag Artist.. Why does the Angel Kinnie get to call out my perceived "transphobia" for implying his beloved Alastor Kinnie should just pick a different name, before their "husband" attacks me like he's being discriminated against for just saying we could've avoided a lot of weirdness in the fandom around the sexuality of the radio demon and the concept of asexuality in general if The CHARACTER who kills and eats people just wasn't the one to be confirmed asexual? But then the Alastor Kinnie is just allowed to get away with calling me "bro" here, even though I'm obviously the most feminine presenting person in the conversation, and, as far as I know, the only actual girl involved in this conversation? Why am I being misgendered? If I pretty much said I was a girl when I got in here, then why are you calling me "Bro"? #Hypocritical #Transphobic Transfemmephobic. #Femmephobia #WomenHating #MenHatingWoman #Misogyny Guess this particular Alastor Kinnie absorbed a little bit too much of Edward's "Dude Bro" personality into his own gender presentation so #BlameBosco for that one, I guess? Did I mention that Edward Bosco keeps getting squicked out by kinnies cause they're weird? Well he's right, they're weird. )
(And again, as you can probably make out, these people are still talking about me as if I wasn't the one to start announcing my intention to leave and in the above image are still talking at me as if I didn't basically just tell everyone to fuck off. So we ignored me bringing up Brandon Rogers ableism and then this dorkis just lets his kinnie husband outright misgender me for real and then this weirdo can't even be fucked to unfollow me on here afterward so then I have to be the one to do the blocking. Great.)
But not before ladies get the final word... ;)
( Yes this server owner is also the kind of person who censors the names of fictional characters they don't like, FYI. And all these radiodust kinnie couples just seem to bleed into eachother, don't they? Especially if the Angel Dust kinnie also just so happens to be an Italian femmeboy trans who also happened to be a sex worker and I'm gonna be called "whorephobic" now, but hot tip: If you claim to be/ have done sex work in the past, maybe then it's time to move past the need to "kin" your comfort characters if you don't want all the mean little girls out there that you misgender and all mean Mommie Doms out there who hate cartoons to laugh at you because this shit is why they're laughing and this shit is why they hate you and this this shit is why I'm starting to hate you too. And I'm saying this as someone who had to learn that lesson the hard way okay? Okay. So glad we cleared that up. )
(And yeah this person was 29 years old the same as me... SO! SO MUCH FOR A 21+ HAZBIN HOTEL DISCORD SERVER NAMED FOR A GODDAMN FUCKING CHILDREN'S TOY SHOP I DON"T DON'T KNOW WHAT I WAS EXPECTING BUT AS SOON AS HE STARTED TALKING ABOUT CENSORING FICTIONAL CHARACTERS NAMES LIKE SLURS I KNEW I WOULDN'T LAST LONG GURL. LOL! )
Putting the transcript of my last message to this douche bag "pastamic" under 'readmore' with more corrected spelling cause I'm so exhausted. And Anti Kinnie. ^_^
To "pastamic":
You know …. I literally just left your server and I don't care if you're "literally married". I literally said you're the second radiodust kinnie couple I had issues with and I don't care. I am a nonbinary transgender, queer drag artist and just like every other disabled person, had a period where I thought I was a sex repulsed asexual. I'm not "transphobic" for saying I felt uncomfortable calling your s/o "Alastor" after feeling attacked by him and expressing you're literally the second pair of radiodust kinnies in love that I've had issue with because FICTIONAL CHARACTERS ARE NOT REAL. Valentino isn't real for that matter ether, so you don't need to censor his name like a slur. You also have bad taste in Hazbin Fan Music. You're 29 years old please get a life.
#Hazbin Hotel#Helluva Boss#hazbin hypocritical#How seriously you choose to take this post even though it should be clear that I just be rollin' rollin' rollin' and trollin' trollin'#trollin' is on you..#I originally WANTED to say 'well YOU'RE not...'#Alastor#the radio demon#but I didn't want bully them that hard lest they have a psychological break with reality or something ...#That's twice now I've been through this#radiodust#kinnie drama#bullshit man I'm getting too old for this and so are they... the#Angel Dust#kinnie#favorite catch phrase is 'yikes krispes'#now that's some#tenderqueer#phrasing if I've ever seen one...#tenderqueers#pastamic#Didn't care enough about the other#kinnies#to learn his url just like he didn't care that I'm a girl ...#ableism#fandom ableism#fandom fuckery#femmephobia#undescribed#This is literally gonna end up being my 'last hurrah' in fandom spaces after these shows are over I've literally put up with so much.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
UTY!Flowey, "lore" and how to criticize a fan prequel without being an insufferable pedantic, a guide by Biscia.
(for my muskless fellows, here's a transcript of my thread on Undertale Yellow that I posted on Twitter. enjoy!)
There's this really frustrating attitude in fan spaces i like to call "lorepilling" where people are substantially more concerned with encyclopedic knowledge of details & minutiae (so called "lore") in place of full-text thematic/narrative analysis as if the two are mutually interchangeable.
It's especially common in large franchises and story heavy videogames, and it's like... Are You Treating This Piece Of Art Like A Trivia Battle Or Are You Treating It Like A Story
This is coming from a person who is also deeply autistic about UTDR trivia btw, I'm just saying that when it comes to transformative *stories*, depending on the impact it has on character, themes, and narrative structure... lore is expendable.
Ultimately this is why most of the UTY criticism i see (on twitter specifically) falls flat. What does it matter if "lore" means Flowey couldn't chronologically be there when the justice human fell, as long as the game narratively justified his presence in the story in a compelling way?
The real criticism, in the end, is that it didn't.
He's a plot central, main cast character from the canon returning in a cast of mostly OCs and what does he have to show for it? An admittedly sick boss battle in 1/3 endings, sure but... not much else. He has no significant "presence" in the story, no tie, interaction, or even just... an opinion on the rest of the cast. Which is a huge miss when Flowey's meta role is to be Thee completionist player mirror. He's the OG lorepilled UT fan! He's an opinionated little shit!
This isn't to say that UTY *didn't* engage w/ his metanarrative. When me and @a-town-called-hometown first started playing the game (we were both skeptical of Flowey's inclusion), he immediately said "It would be really cool if they made it so this has been going on for a while and Clover has no idea". Which is precisely what the game did in the neutral ending, and what I will openly say was the most well written & well executed part of this game's story...
...a part we almost didn't see, because the pacifist ending disappointed us so much we lost all will to replay.
To put it in the words of my friend Mel @clowwwnbytes, there's a deafening hollowness to UTY Flowey's motivations & core principles where his guilt towards Chara—and resulting black and white thinking—should be. You're telling me Mr Kill-or-be-killed, "sacrificing yourself to do the right thing is stupid", would stand there after 1000s of failed attempts to make Clover survive, look on as they make the same mistake Asriel he did, and fondly call them friend? Cue the guitar, roll the credits?
He would lose it. Oh my god he would lose his goddamn mind, he would throw the nastiest temper tantrum in the world. Are you serious? How dare you. How DARE you. All this effort, all my patience, and you just let yourself DIE for a few worthless idiots? I should've let you ROT!
*clears throat* sorry got a bit too into character. as i was saying.
I can understand a UT prequel wanting to distance itself from the canon Chara storyline in order to form its own identity, but then turning around and choosing Insane About Chara The Character™ for a sidekick is... far from optimal. In the end, Flowey comes across as underutilized and inconsistent, with a whole lot of wasted potential.
This is an issue I have with UTY's character writing (original AND returning) and story structure as a whole. Lots of inconsistent character arcs, tonal dissonance, overuse of situational sadness... it's an amateurish work, after all, and you can feel it. There's no shame in that.
(Though, there ARE some issues that i take more seriously with its writing, especially when it comes to its two main female characters—Ceroba's lack of narrative agency and depth borders on misogynistic writing imo. But that's a topic for another day)
Over all, UTY was an incredible piece of collaborative transformative work, with gorgeous art and a genuinely incredible OST, which... would have benefited from more experienced writers. But hey, you can only ever learn by trying!
For all it could've been a better story, it certainly did not fail to entertain: both when my friend was playing it, and after in our many discussions of its writing, its faults and how it could've been improved (royal scientist!ceroba character fix you will always be famous. to ME!)
I'm sure this project served as an incredible source of experience for the developers: as individual creators AND as a team. I look forward to their future projects!
but also if i have to see another person say UTY is better than Undertale i might turn into The Jonker.
end of the essay! really couldn't stand any of the pedantic ""criticism"" I'd seen of this fangame so far, so i had to say my piece as someone more versed in analysis. happy to elaborate on anything in the replies or in my inbox!
272 notes
·
View notes
Note
Idia and his parents communicating ipad to ipad for Family day. I want to see it, it sounds like something out of a dystopia 😭 can you write it? (Hope I’m asking the right way!)
I seriously thought long and hard about censoring Idia's whole face out using his tablet in the banner 😂 I ended up choosing not to because leaving his face exposed makes Idia more vulnerable (which suits the tone of this interaction).
This piece was actually inspired by a scene from a cooking manga of all things if you can imagine that 😭 It was about two brothers fighting because they reacted so differently to a traumatic event; I reworked the elements of that for this scene
***Contains major plot spoilers for book 6 of the main story!***
Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.
“Idia.”
“Dad.”
The air between the two floating tablets was electric—not from the devices, but from the charged tension they emanated.
On one screen was a circle encasing a triangle and skull emblem, a generic symbol for Idia’s infamous voice calls. On the other screen was a man that could only be described as Death itself, pale skinned and blue lipped, suited in a pristinely lab coat. His hair was a blue blaze, and his mouth folded into a neutral line.
Ortho floated between the two tablets, his gaze darting nervously between them.
“So nice of you to pay your son a visit,” Idia spat. A mean, pessimistic bite to his speech was the norm—but these were different, coated in something stronger. Not quite hate, but the distinctively metallic flavor of masked hurt. “What am I in for this time?”
“I’ve come to check up on you,” Mr. Shroud said carefully, as if placing each word down with a fine pair of tweezers.
Idia couldn’t suppress an audible scoff from slipping out.
For as long as he had lived (though could one really define “living” as being cooped up in his room 24/7?), Idia had never known his father to be particularly warm. He was an aloof man, as icy as the pits of Tartarus itself, dedicating himself to research above all else. Results over emotions, and facts over feelings: that was how Mr. Shroud operated.
Something about his mere presence made Idia freeze over, his limbs lock up like a machine with cogs that hadn’t been greased. The man he called father—where had he and mother been when their son needed them most?
Two years. Two years of crying alone, grappling with his guilt and his fears, shut away from the world. Researchers passing him looks of sympathy, containing their whispers amongst themselves. It was the robot parts gifted to him that kept him sane, gave him some semblance of hope.
The limp body of a child, entirely indiscernible on the floor, was still so clear in Idia’s mind. Mangled, the warmth robbed from it. As cold and as lifeless as the machines that populated Styx HQ.
“Give him back. Give him back to me…! Give me all of Ortho… His body, his personalities, his memories! EVERYTHING!! I WANT IT ALL BACK!!”
His tears had run hot, but his parents’ blood had turned to solid ice. He had fixated, and they had seemingly forgotten.
“Kk, sure. I’ll buy it even though I actually don’t,” Idia said sarcastically. “Go off, say what you want to say.”
If Mr. Shroud was offended by his son’s tone, his face didn’t show it. “I wanted to ask if there have been any… issues since ‘the incident’. More specifically, among ex-subjects A through F, regarding their experiences within our facility.”
Because we neglected to wipe their memories with River Lethe this time, Idia knew. He wants to know if they’ve been running their mouths off about Styx with all the online rumors on secret organization going viral…
“How should I know? I don’t make it a habit of monitoring my classmates’ internet posts. And so what if they do? It’s not like anyone has proof…”
“This is a matter of great importance, young man. If word gets out about what we are and what we do…” Mr. Shroud frowned and shook his head. “It puts our entire operation in jeopardy. As future director, you should be taking this more seriously.”
“I didn’t make that choice,” Idia muttered. All I wanted… was to be normal. But no, that freedom was already taken from me before I was even born.
“What was that?” Mr. Shroud’s volume rose ever so slightly, brows subtly drawing together.
“Wah, let’s not fight!” Ortho interjected, holding up two hands. “It’s Family Day, Nii-san! We should be doing fun activities as a family. Will you join us, Mr. Shroud?”
“Ortho…” Idia bit back a protest.
Mr. Shroud’s expression shifted, adopting mild amusement. “… The world’s first self-improving technomantic humanoid.”
“Yup, that’s me!” Ortho twirled happily. His outfit—black and blue, just like the school uniforms of the Ignihyde students— shone wonderfully in the sunlight.
“Fascinating. It’s been equipped with a new gear which seems to being it something akin to human joy,” Mr. Shroud mused. “I assume this was your doing, Idia?”
At the other end of his tablet, Idia clenched his clammy fists. There he goes again, acting like people are his experiments. Just data to be stared at, manipulated and studied.
Annoyance colored the tips of Idia’s hair red. Ortho’s smile, his happiness, was genuine. Of that, Idia was certain—but it was a waste of his breath to try and convince his father otherwise.
For Ortho’s sake.
A deep breath in, a deep breath out. He expelled his pride, and his flames cooled back to blue.
“Yes, I made his College Gear. Ortho’s officially enrolled as a student now, so I don’t get what the big deal is. You signed off on it.”
“An artificial intelligence with the capacity for organic learning and growth is an ever-expanding field of interest. Your mother and I granted our permission for Ortho’s enrollment so as to collect data on…”
There was a rattle and a slam from the other end of Idia’s tablet. His shaky voice rose, fire burning red hot.“L-Look, I… I don’t care what you think of me, or about school, or your work. But don’t talk about Ortho like he’s just an object.”
“Technically speaking, it is an accurate statement.”
“Ortho’s so much more than that!! He’s my brother. Kehehe… If you can’t recognize that, then maybe you aren’t as smart as you like to think you are.”
Ortho’s eyes widened. “Nii-san…”
Mr. Shroud pursed his lips. “You’re being emotional. Let’s think about this rationally—”
“One day,” Idia continued, his voice cracking. “Just one day of being normal boys with a normal family. Can’t you at least give us that? No, I guess you can’t, because all you care about is getting your results. The feelings of your sons don’t matter.
“You won’t acknowledge Ortho as his own person, but you’re the one that’s more machine than man. We may as well not even exist until you need to call on us for something. Y-You..: You didn’t even cry when…!!”
“Idia.”
Mr. Shroud’s face was a marble mask, free from feeling—but in his eyes was an immense sadness. Despair swirling in a vortex of lost souls, locked away and the key thrown out. “You think you’re the only one who has been suffering? Your mother and I…”
He didn’t finish the thought. Or else the marble would crack, and a torrent of tears would escape him.
Idia went silent. Harsh accusations rested on the tip of his tongue, unsure if they would be spat up or swallowed down.
“… Human beings choose to mourn and to honor the dead in their own ways,” Ortho said quietly. “Coping is unique to the individual. Even so, I think it’s possible to understand one another.
“Nii-san, Mr. Shroud. Why don’t we do away with the screens and speak face-to-face? Maybe then… we could understand each other.”
Idia gave a bitter laugh. “… Sorry, Ortho. I don’t think I could do it.”
“But…”
“He is correct. From the looks of things, it would ultimately be a fruitless, futile effort. We’re done here,” Mr. Shroud declared. “You have the day off from classes, so you may spend it however you wish. Play your video games or whatever it is children do these days to amuse themselves.”
Idia snorted.
“… Be well. Until next time.”
Click!
His video feed abruptly ended. The cord between him and his children, cut.
Back at the Isle of Lamentation, Mr. Shroud pulled up a keyboard and notes on his device. He began punching in his report.
Day XX / Month XX
I was worried about Idia’s emotional and mental state in the aftermath of the incident. The boy has experienced a number of hardships as of late. Regardless, he seems to be doing well. He is still as reclusive and as snarky as he ever was. However, I observed a marked change in his behavior with regards to Ortho.
Idia has become rather protective of the android of his own creation. He now truly regards it as his own brother and reports to enjoy spending time with it. This could yield promising therapeutic results in the future.
I will continue to log his progress.
Signed,
Director Shroud
#Idia Shroud#Ortho Shroud#Ignihyde#twst interactions#twisted wonderland interactions#twst#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#NRC Family Day#twst scenarios#twisted wonderland scenarios#twst imagines#twisted wonderland imagines#spoilers#tw // death#angst
210 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝟎𝟎𝟐: 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃
𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫.
peter parker should not be allowed to be this beautiful.
the sight of peter on his knees should not make your heart skip a beat, but it does.
“what?” you stutter, trying to ignore the blood that rushes to your cheeks at the sight of peters puppy dog eyes, but it’s hard. it’s oh so very hard.
he clears his throat, “i want you to date me. well, more so, i want you to fake date me.” the blush in your cheeks seem to disappear at that as you push him away and walk to the other side of the room.
your brows furrow, “i’m sorry, but peter this is actually one of the dumbest things you’ve ever asked me to do- which is saying a lot because you’ve asked me to jump off of the top of the playground before.”
peter coughs out a laugh at the memory, and then his expression changes back to a more serious one.
“i’m not kidding though, y/n/n.” he says, “i want to show mj that i can be a good boyfriend.” he explains. you frown.
you bite your lip and lean against the wall. “peter, dating me is not going to help you. you just need to go for it, i know she’ll say yes-”
“y/n.” peter interrupts, “i’m asking you, to please, please do this for me.” he mumbles and your chest suddenly feels too tight.
you groan and squeeze your eyes shut. this is a bad idea. you know it’s a bad idea. but this is peter- your peter. it’s not like there’s a whole bunch that could go wrong, right?
you sigh and sit on the ground next to him, “if we’re doing this, we need too have some rules first.
peter nods swiftly, “yeah, yes, of course.” he says and you reach for your backpack for a piece of notebook paper and a pen.
once you have it you lay it in your lap and write ‘RULES’. peter leans closer, and you’re suddenly all too aware of how close you both are.
you clear your throat, “first off, i’m not going to kiss you.” you say. peters eyebrows furrow and he goes to argue but you interrupt him with a shake of your head. “that’s a line i’m not going to cross with you, okay?” you say seriously.
peter bites his lip and nods.
he shrugs, “if i can’t kiss you than what can i do?”
you think for a moment and then smile, “you can put your hand in my back pocket.”
peter rolls his eyes, “you seriously need to stop with the 80’s movies.” he groans.
you laugh, “you know you love it.”
you’re both silent for a moment after that. it’s not the usual comfortable silence that you and peter usually share, this one is awkward and tense.
you clear your throat, “okay, rule number two, we are not allowed to tell anyone that this is fake. not even ned.”
peter nods his head at that, you both love ned but he can not keep a secret to save his life.
“rule three, this has to be over by the end of our trip to europe this summer.” peter adds.
your eyebrows furrow, “peter, the trips in two weeks.” you say.
he shrugs, “we’ll be in europe for a little over three weeks, so that means we’ll be ‘dating’ for a little over a month. don’t normal high school relationships barely make it past the two week mark?” he questions and you nod your head in agreement.
you and peter spend the next hour or so discussing how you would announce your new ‘relationship’ to ned and the rest of the school, the both of you deciding to just post it on your instagrams.
once the brunette leaves you scroll your camera roll for a picture of you and peters first halloween, you had dressed up as anakin and him as yoda. aunt may had painted his skin a bright green that ended up looking yellow on the camera.
you bite your lip and choose it, captioning the photo, ‘bestfriends to lovers who?’.
you nearly throw your phone across the room as you post it, because now it was real. like actually really happening.
it takes everything in you to not immediately delete the post, instead deciding to turn out your light and just go to bed.
as soon as you step through the threshold marking the outside and the beginning of the main hallway, you are immediately bombarded by a sweaty ned.
“you and peter are dating?” he questions. your jaw goes slack as you attempt to answer, but before you can someone beats you to it.
“well, that’s what the post said didn’t it, and why are you so sweaty?” peter asks from next to you, awkwardly slinging an arm over your shoulder and it takes practically everything in you to not shrug it off.
ned ignores peters question, “well, i mean yeah, but i thought mj-”
peter interrupts him, “we talked last night and we both realized that we, you know…” he glances to you.
“we both realized that we like each other.” you finish.
ned’s eyebrows furrow, “right…” his tone suggests that he doesn’t believe you.
the walk to first period is spent in an awkward silence, and you find you’ve never been more thankful to get away from your best friends.
you let out a sigh of relief as you sit down, pulling out a pencil from your book bag and beginning to write down todays agenda.
mj sits in her usual spot next to you, and you glance at her cautiously, and immediately regret it when you see she’s already staring at you.
“so, you and peter, huh?” she hums.
you clear your throat, grip tightening on the pencil in your hand, “mhm.”
mj seems to sense how uncomfortable you’re feeling and changes the subject, “so, did you finish the book?”
you nearly stumble out if your seat from how fast your head snaps to look at her. you groan, “oh my god, yes i did, and let me tell you- i am never reading that book again!” you cry.
mj laughs, “i don’t blame you! i was devastated the first time i read it.”
you laugh, frantically throwing your hands in the air, “i mean, how can it just end like that? like he’s dead and that’s it?”
mj shrugs, and before she can say anything else mrs. notting has started her daily ritual of banging a ruler on her desk to get everyone to be quiet. it’s pretty effective.
each class passes by quicker than you would’ve liked then too, and you find yourself dreading your usually favorite time of day: lunch.
you and peter share the period before together so you walk down the hall hand in hand awkwardly, trying to ignore the stares you receive from classmates and teachers.
peter seems to sense how tense your feeling, and he leans towards your ear and whispers, “thank you for doing this, y/n/n.”
your heart skips a beat when his lips brush against your ear. not trusting your voice, you squeeze his hand three times in response. he smiles.
as soon as you enter the lunch room ned is quick to bombard the both of you with more questions, but you successfully tune him out, instead focusing a little too hard on the back of mj’s head. she seems to sense someone staring and turns around and you quickly advert your gaze, suddenly becoming very interested in peter and ned’s conversation.
“i guess i just don’t understand, because last time i checked you were practically obsessed with mj!” ned says, eyebrows crinkled in frustration.
“i don’t know man, this just kinda.. happened.” peters mumbles, and ned bites the inside of his cheek and then shrugs, “well as long as you’re both happy.”
you smile at that, glancing at an also smiling peter.
“just promise me that no matter what, we’ll all still be friends.” ned says and you stick out your pinkie, prompting ned and peter to do the same.
you all intertwine your pinkies to the best of your abilities, all chanting “i promise.” at the same time.
when you unlatch from each other and the boys go back to their usual conversations you feel your heart begin to swell.
this, thing, you were doing with peter was only temporary and you needed to remember that. in a few months, everything will be back to normal and peter will be with the girl of his dreams.
in a few months, everything will be fine.
i ❤️ taylor swift
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ❤︎︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭 ఌ
#peter parker x reader#peter parker#marvel#tom holland#mcu#angst#far from home#fake dating#friends to lovers#fluff
144 notes
·
View notes
Text
Misconceptions about Godspousery and intimate relationships with the divine Part 2
Disclaimer; This post is written from my perspective and experiences as a godspouse ( being married to two demonic divine dark lords for 6 years and having almost 16 years of experience connecting and working with deities, demonic divine beings and spirits), in connecting with others who are genuine godspouses and also has input, information and insight gained from various conversations with Demonic Divine beings- DL’s, other gods and spirits around these topics. I obviously do not speak for all Godspouses, however these are some similarities and trends I have noticed amongst those genuinely in these relationships.
follow on from here
On discernment:
Most if not all of the human spouses have been or are devotees to the god before they become a spouse and may even be clergy already. Some people have stated that a “god” supposedly asked for their hand when they hadn’t even worked with the god. This is not something that happens. Even if the person did not know the deity to begin with, the deities usually guide the person to a working relationship with Themselves and a deeper relationship before they would consider asking, if that had been something the deity was even interested in to begin with. The human can also recognise throughout their life signs of the deity being present and feeling very intensely drawn to areas that the deity works within, as though it is natural to the person, it can feel like coming home in a sense ( though this can go for any deep connection to a deity as well). And it also plays into the future human spouse’s choice in the matter as well. To see if they truly resonate and want to engage that way with the god. You can still have wonderfully loving and beautifully profound, close relationships with deities without being espoused to Them. So it is not something that should be overly sought after in my view.
Something that has come up fairly recently it seems is the notion of “dating” a deity. I honestly find this exceptionally problematic, even more so when one has never worked with the deity before, or the deity has never indicated They are interested in such a relationship with the person. How can one possibly discern its actually the deity connecting- if they have never worked with said deity?, how would they even be attuned to their energies enough to get clear communication with them? The deity is the one who chooses this, Its not as much “up to the human” as people/ the egoic human mind, would like to believe it is. This attitude of actively seeking to date a deity seems to carry with it the assumption that a deity is automatically interested just because the person is and the expectation that They would want to marry the person just because the person is interested. All divine beings I know do take marriage seriously- it is not a game, pokemon-collect them all or a roulette wheel of options for the human to pick who they like best. Desiring this, does not make it so. To my eyes this practice and attitude that it is simply the humans choice, diminishes what godspousery actually is.
Some others have stated they have past life connections and so the “deity” is demanding they resume that or state that they have some claim on the person. Any “deity” or spirit doing this should be treated with a lot of caution and it most likely is not a deity if they are demanding you reunite with them. Each life is individual and it is helpful to remember that this is your life not what you were in the past. Past lives only have such importance if we choose to assign this. Past life connections and deeper soul level can hold weight in this- though it is usually something that is discovered along the journey and should not be a sole reason for marrying.
Another important thing to note is Respect and Consent. You cannot force a deity, spirit or being to marry you if they haven’t consented to it, nor should they force you either. Some divine beings may not even be interested in engaging this way either, it can even be hubris and offensive to Them to ask or attempt to connect with Them in this way, not all are open to this. Usually if not always it is the deity that asks in godspousery not the human.
Another thing to note also is on interpretation of energies and how humans interpret these feelings. Love in and of itself is not a very well elucidated energy among the human realm. It is common parlance from a human perspective to feel loving energy from another being and assume that it means the same thing as it does when you feel it from another human or even that the intentions of the being and their response to love will be the same. This is often not the case with otherworldly beings. There are many forms of love as well, not all of them lead to romance, or even have the same end result. While Love is often stated as part of Godspousery relationships it can take on different forms then what humans may conceive of love to be. Often while it is part of the relationship and allows us to interact with the god or god level being in a way many do not( which is a very sacred and humbling experience to be granted such insight and interactions with them), it is not the only or even in some cases the main part of the relationship.
The same concept goes with sexual energy; just because a person feels what they may interpret as sexual energy from a being, does not mean that the being wants to engage sexually with them or even needs to. It should also be noted that not all godspousery relationships have a sexual component either. Godspousery can be a truly amazing and profound experience opening you up in ways you never thought possible, but it can equally be more challenging and more devastating in its ability to transform you and in some of the things you undergo, then any human relationship ever would be. There are two sides to it. And it “expects” a lot from us. Most of those who are godspouses also have open senses, as an accurate and reliable way of communicating with the deity by yourself is necessary.
If someone feels that a god or any spirit is suggesting marriage to them it is important to do divination once you have determined it is actually the deity and not a thoughtform, fantasy or someone using the name as a mask. One should be questioning themselves a lot, to see whether this is just an egoic desire on their part, self examination is also key here to determine why you might be considering it, it is not something to be rushed into out of infatuation or from an egoic perspective, nor “status”. Listen to your deeper soul self too, but divine for yourself, then have trusted other divine for you and then another who does not know you personally or the situation. As this is quite a lifechanging experience as well, if there are clergy for the god or those who work closely with the god then seeing what they have to say about it and learning about if this has been practiced with the god in the past can also be helpful. Usually there is some kind of contract for the actual marriage and it can be really helpful to have one that is agreed upon, so you know what to expect around this, if there are taboos of things etc.
Also in terms of “status.” It doesn’t necessarily lend you any status at all, actually being married to a deity. Usually if they have other spouses and it is hierarchical you tend to be lower down on the rungs, you could also end up being part of a harem, or a concubine in a way. So something very important to ask yourself is if you would be okay with that. Also would you be okay being celibate from humans if the deity asked this, even though the deity was polygamous? In my experiences most deities and demonic divine - if not all, are polygamous, you will not be their “only” spouse. Also if you do otherworldly work, it is important to get to know and understand the culture you are going to be marrying into as well as if the deity or divine being has a certain rank, then the politics around that. Mostly the human partners are not so involved in the politics but it does still have some effect. It is also important to note that marriage may not look anything like the human idea of marriage especially with otherworldly beings- the more otherworldly the less likely this is. That is why it is important to drop preconceived notions around this and have clear communication with the beings to establish what the marriage will actually look like. These are just some of the questions one should be asking before even considering this.
It is also important to note that genuine godspousery is not just “taking an oath” either. Genuine godspousery is a lifelong commitment. While the marriage can involve such things and often will, it is not all it is. And oaths are not just for godspousery, oaths are used in many situations. It is not so particular.
One other key area I feel should be addressed, wishing, desiring and hoping from the humans behalf and even acting on that wish, does not make it so. There are two (or more) beings to any relationship especially with deities and spirits and they have a say in this as well. and all parties can say no. To my eyes claiming you are something you are not or in a certain type of relationship with a being when you are not- is deeply disrespectful to the being and one would be lucky if the being actually chose to interact with them again. Even though ultimately god level beings and demonic divine can definitely take care of themselves (as can most other spirits) and are quite unaffected by what people claim about them. It is still inherently disrespectful thing to do.
So some areas to look out for in determining if the being is more legitimate or not; One of red flag to watch out for is people claiming DL’s or deities are “thirsty” for them, DL’s and deities do not lust after us, they have no need to and are perfectly able of finding their own satisfaction with their own spouses, consorts etc. of their own kind.
Another red flag to watch out for is the supposed god, DL or spirit “claiming” that the person is their one and only and is oh so special and how important the person is, always telling them to best things about themselves and never criticising them nor pushing and aiding in for their growth. Also isolation tactics and claiming to “own” them without a prior arrangement or agreement in that manner. It is most likely a parasite wanting to feed or something trying to trick you into giving them you power and energy. These are just a few among many other issues that can arise in this which is why discernment is so important in this. One of the key ways to differentiate just in general also; is to be able to read the beings core energy. It is also useful to note that those who are genuinely married to divine beings, very often keep it private due to the nature of it being an intensely personal relationship. How private they keep it varies and is of course up to the individual and their Spouse. It is not something that is talked about very often. And they are not likely and don’t tend to use it as a status symbol to lord over other people or boost their egos either.
A final aspect I wanted to address is when people are claiming they have many godspouses. Anyone saying they have more then 1-3 godspouses is suspicious and most likely into delusional territory or interacting with sock puppets. Deities and divine beings understand humans well and that we are while here living a human life and are in “linear time”. The divine are not that “irresponsible” that many of Them would dogpile all on one person for marriage. They have plenty of devotees to choose from, if They were even interested in such a thing anyway. Also one or two deity spouses are rare enough let alone 8 or 14 to one human. In genuine godspousery because of the depth of connection and time commitment these marriages and path requires from a person, a single human does not have enough time to build such a deep connection with so many entities ( I have heard people mention they have like 5,7 or 14 deity spouses- to my eyes honestly if there even is anything there in these cases it is sockpuppeting or thoughtforms- genuine deities/divine beings/DL’s do not do this.) Especially since the human has a life here to attend to. Not only that; but the depth of connection also carries the majesty and gravity of energy of the divine being, so much energy from so many separate beings at the level and depth of connection- would wreck a humans energy system. As such I would be wary of those who claim so to have many spouses.
art by NanFe on deviantart
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Le Cirque du Fantasme | Part Two
Word Count: 6.2k
A/N: SURPRISE, I got too carried away and felt pretty bad when I realized the last half of this story was another 20k, so I made the executive decision to divide it up into three parts rather than post something so egregiously long in one post.
The last mammoth chunk will be posted in the wee spooky hours of Halloween. :-P
Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03
“I don’t have many talents,” says Mariam, wringing her hands.
“We’ll find them, trust me,” the ringmaster assures. “Most of us found our talents not through natural gift but through fearlessness. You just have to be willing to try something you haven’t before. You may find that not only are you good at it, but that you like it.”
A shiver rips through her.
“Let’s start simply,” Jooheon says. He takes her hands in his and holds them as he stares softly at her. “Close your eyes and think of a number one through seven.”
She does as instructed and lets her mind drift where it wants as she says dreamily, “Three.”
Jooheon hums. “Now, think of two colors please.”
“Red and blue,” she says automatically.
“Very good, Mariam.”
“How do you know my name?” she whispers.
“I’ve seen your dream, remember? I heard them calling your name.”
“Them?”
“We’ll get to that. You can open your eyes now, dear.”
When she does, the ringmaster fills her vision though he is flanked by the two aerialists as well. All three smile sweetly at her.
“You’ve chosen well,” Jooheon says.
“I didn’t really choose anything,” she objects.
Beside the ringmaster, Minhyuk’s face falters. “I feel a little offended then. And here I thought we really wowed you.”
Mariam panics and reaches toward him. “That’s not what I meant! I thought—”
“He’s just teasing,” explains Changkyun. “Minhyuk likes to do that. You’ll see.”
“We’ll get to that, too,” Jooheon says tersely.
Her head spins with their vague words and their beautiful faces. Up close, the two aerialists are even more bewildering. It’s clear the glitter on Minhyuk’s skin is not show makeup, and it’s also clear that Changkyun isn’t just wearing some kind of reflective suit—he really is translucent in places.
But that’s… impossible?
“So I’m going to try aerial stunts?” she asks, choosing to deflect their attention from her face to the silks and hoops dangling above them.
But it doesn’t work. Minhyuk is still grinning at her like a Cheshire cat. “Are you ready for us to take you to new heights?”
“Minhyuk,” scolds Changkyun though it’s half-hearted at best judging from the tongue poking at the corner of his mouth.
“What? We will.”
“Are you afraid?” asks Jooheon much more seriously.
Mariam turns back toward the three handsome faces studying her.
She should be afraid. She knows how many performers have died even after decades of experience. Even more importantly, she is a cautious person. She doesn’t stray much outside her comfort zone, which is probably why she never left Carmel—she grew up there, her family is there, everyone knows her and she knows everyone.
But she’s never wanted to be this way. She supposes much of it is the way she grew up. Her family is conservative and faithful. It would break their hearts to know she’s not a virgin for marriage, and it would probably break their hearts even more to know she’s not sure she even wants marriage.
Because the truth is what Mariam has wanted all along in the deepest, darkest, most secret part of her heart is to break out.
To break free.
To fly.
She wants things for herself, things she's never been able to voice.
“I’m not,” she confesses.
Jooheon smiles. “Good. Now, why don't you put this on, and when you come back, we'll teach you some tricks.”
Changkyun offers a folded outfit to her, and she looks at them questioningly, but the ringmaster beats her to it. “The fewer restrictions you have, the better. The circus is all about soaring past boundaries. Don’t even bother with your shoes.”
“You can change through the curtain there,” Changkyun says as he points to the entrance.
At last, Mariam takes the offering and heads behind the curtain where she examines what turns out to be a bodysuit. It’s black and red exclusively, with a plain black chest but a corset of red and black stripes. A little peplum skirt of more stripes and black chiffon add a touch more femininity while a cute little bolero with matching ruching hugs the shoulders and the back of the neck.
In order to squeeze into it, she has to strip just like for a swimsuit, and a wave of self-consciousness washes over her at having to press her nakedness into a garment that doesn’t belong to her. She doesn’t have a choice though. She wants to be as free as Jooheon promised her she can be here, so she leans into the feeling of the cool air kissing her bare legs and arms.
She can hardly believe she fits into the snug suit. It leaves very little to the imagination. She’s especially worried about how indecently the seat of the outfit cradles her sex, but she figures no one will be close enough to notice, and maybe the skirt will shield the swell of her lips there.
With a hard swallow, Mariam enters the ring again to find the ringmaster has shed his coat down to the fitted black tee beneath while the two aerialists have stripped off their performance tanks to leave lean, sculpted torsos on full display. Her face grows hot in an instant. All three men look at her with stars in their eyes, though that could be from the single spotlight that still glows into the center of the room.
“Already a starlet,” Jooheon praises. “It’s like you’ve always been a part of our show.”
“Thank you,” is all she can think to reply.
At last, she finally tears her eyes from the performers to see the ribbons have descended again, this time to brush the floor itself. Unlike during the aerial clowns’ showcase, there is a thick padded mat out, she’s relieved to see.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m going to be much of a performer on those things,” Mariam comments.
Jooheon raises an eyebrow. “You may surprise yourself.”
She notices then that the two aerialists have disappeared, but when she turns around, she finds Minhyuk crouching over the shattered remains of the aerial hoop. He scoops up a handful of the shattered steel and cups it between both hands. His eyes close in an uneven blink, like a gentle seesaw, as he cocks his head and peers through a slat in his fingers. Mariam can't see what he's doing, but there's no mistaking the scarlet glow emanating from his skin and the hint of smoke in the air.
After a moment, he lifts his hand, and in the center of the other is a marble-sized ball of molten steel. Waves of heat roil in the cool air as crimson, tangerine, and pearl hues dance in the liquid metal. It’s just as astonishing that he can superheat steel as it is that he can hold it in his hand.
He rocks the ball back and forth between his palms to roll it into a fiery worm. With the tip of his fingernail, he clips off part of the ends before he coils the metal around and up in a spiraling open-ended vine. Then, he pinches the spare ends into smaller pieces until they form into delicate little petals, which turn out to be thorns because a moment later, he grabs another shard and, in a flash, twists it into a sweet flower shape and solders it to the rest of the ring.
Mariam is transfixed by his delicate movements. His fingers are extraordinarily long and even more nimble. It’s clear now that his artistry isn’t limited to the skies.
Minhyuk puts the last touch on his creation and reaches for her hand. Changkyun scowls.
“You can’t give it to her like that,” the blue-haired man reprimands.
With a pop and sizzle, he grabs the ring from his partner, but if it burns as badly as it sounds, she would never know, for this aerialist doesn’t flinch either. Changkyun holds the delicate thing in his palm as it smokes. Then he puffs his pretty lips and blows a jet of icy air that tempers the metal until it dulls like a dying ember and finally hardens to cold steel.
“Milady,” Minhyuk says with a flourish of a bow and presents the ring to her.
“What’s this for?” she asks, her voice ripe with shock.
“Consider it part of the VIP experience.”
Judging from the stern brow on the ringmaster’s forehead, it seems unlikely, but she knows she shouldn’t ask; even if she does, she won’t get an answer.
Trembling, Mariam holds out her hand, and the redhead slips the ring onto her middle finger. It slides on easily, but once it’s seated at the base, Minhyuk’s fingertips warm against her, and he softens the ring one last time as though it’s only made of beeswax. With a roll and a rub, it fits snugly at last, and he pulls back with a grin.
She stares at the ring. She has so many more questions. Is this still part of the act? Do they do this after every performance with every VIP? Why does the ringmaster look like a line has been crossed? But when she looks up at the two aerialists, both smiling beautifully at her, other words come out that she never planned to voice.
“What are they?” she breathes.
Jooheon laughs sweetly as though he pities her ignorance. “They are sylphs, one of the air and the other of fire.”
“Sylphs…” Mariams tests out the word and finds it tastes as buttery as it sounds. She turns to the ringmaster now, her thumb already pendulously rubbing the smooth ring backing. “What are you then?”
“Me? I’m just a man who wandered in from the fog and couldn’t let this place go. But the Cirque du Fantasme has a funny way of bringing out hidden talents you never knew you had. I'm a dreamer—always have been—but thanks to the Fantasme, now I can eat dreams. They become a part of me. They change me. They open me up to endless creativity, which is a very good thing running a circus.”
“I’d call you a liar, but I guess I can’t,” she muses. “A dream-eater…”
“Does It freak you out? What we are?” Changkyun wonders.
“No, that's not it... I don't know. I think my brain wanted to believe that all of this was just some kind of illusion. You know, circus magic? But it's not, is it?”
“It's not,” he confirms.
All three stand very still, as though they're waiting for her to make her escape, but she doesn't move. Instead, she asks, “Is everyone here as special as you are?”
“Well, of course, Mariam. As are you,” says Minhyuk matter-of-factly.
“You're our VIP, remember?” Jooheon notes.
“Let us show you how special you are,” Changkyun offers.
With each passing word, things feel heavier, realer, like she’s descending without moving at all.
“There's so much you're capable of,” assures the ringmaster. He leans in, his dimples cavernous, his eyes shining. “Come.”
Jooheon offers his hand and walks her toward the center of the ring.
“Here,” he says. He extends her arm and grabs one of the silks and wraps it around her forearm, then he pulls it back so the fabric snakes addictively across her skin. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
She nods.
Beside them, Changkyun goes to work on the ribbons, knotting them up with ease. When he’s done, it looks like some fairytale swing straight out of the fantasies of a girl imagining she’s royalty.
“Ready, princess?” says the blue-haired man with a bow as though he’s a mind-reader just like his dream-eater friend.
“I’m nervous,” she admits.
“We’ll take the very best care of you. Wait and see,” promises Jooheon with a smile too beautiful and open to refute.
Mariam takes a deep breath and steps forward.
Minhyuk zips to her side like a magnet and yammers through a series of safety precautions that she knows she should be paying more attention to, but she can’t get the image of his singular fingers contorting metal to his every whim.
In the spotlight now, her pecan skin washes out a bit, which she’s especially self-conscious of the moment Minhyuk’s shimmering gold-flecked hands cinch around her waist.
He lifts her into the basket of ribbons and instructs her to find her balance. Mariam grips the silks and scoots her butt back so she’s centered just as she would be on a swing set. When she’s ready, she looks up at him for approval, and he whistles.
“Wow. Your eyes are like sea glass. They’re stunning.”
She casts them down with embarrassment because it seems insane that an otherworldly beauty like Minhyuk could think her looks are anywhere near as special as anything in their circus, but, suddenly, he pulls the swing toward him, and the self-doubt is lost behind her. She yelps, gripping the fabric tighter as she tips back in the swing. She looks wide-eyed at him, and he stares back determinedly.
“The circus is all about flaunting yourself. Don’t hide from it,” he admonishes.
“Okay,” she replies shakily.
With that, he pushes her back, and Mariam sails in reverse with another little yelp, but that quickly gives way to a surge of unadulterated joy.
She’s flying.
When the swing rocks forward, she leans into it just as she remembers from a playground, and she sails a little higher. This time, she giggles. And when she drifts back, her hair surges around her face and the ribbons billow below her feet like a banner.
“You’re a natural!” Jooheon shouts. “How does it feel?”
“Amazing!” she squeals. “I could do this forever!”
“But there are so many more things to try,” insists Minhyuk.
Though she sours a little at the thought of ending her ride so soon, Mariam’s seen what these performers are truly capable of in the air, and she is curious about how far she can push herself, too, so she slows her swinging until Changkyun grabs the silks to still her.
He’s smiling at her in a way that makes her feel even more fluttery than the ribbons in full sail.
“You looked great. Let’s try a little more advanced swing now. Can you stand in the basket?”
“On the knot?” she asks dubiously.
“Don’t worry. I tied it. It’s sturdy enough.”
She hoists herself up carefully until she’s got her balance between the ribbons.
“Perfect,” he compliments. “Now, try to stand on one foot. See if you can raise a leg.”
This is far more challenging, and she feels a bit like a flamingo, but again he praises her, and her confidence builds.
Changkyun steps forward, his arms wide like he’s waiting for a hug, as he says. “See if you can arch your back. You might drift forward a bit, but just hold tight to the ribbons and don’t worry. I’m here to catch you if you fall.”
Looking at those sinewy arms, Mariam has the urge to let go if only so he’ll catch her, but she isn’t that selfish. She tries in earnest, and since she goes slowly, she keeps her balance. Her head falls back, and she’s met with Minhyuk’s sharp face behind her.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says with a teasing grin.
She squeaks and almost loses her balance, but she chokes up on the ribbons just in time to stand back up.
Changkyun sighs and shakes his head. To her, the air sylph says, “He can’t stop being a clown for even a moment.”
“Hey,” retorts his fellow aerialist, “surprises happen up there. Now the Marvelous Mariam knows she can still control herself perfectly.”
Changkyun rolls his eyes back to the woman in the ribbons. He coaches her through a few standing swings, and when he’s satisfied, he says, “Well, you’ve got our approval, Miss Mariam. Since you’ve gotten basic balance down, are you ready to go a little higher?”
“I’m ready.”
“Have a seat again.”
Slowly, she hunkers down though it’s much easier to balance now.
“Cross your legs,” he instructs.
Minhyuk lets out a wolf whistle. “Now, this I would pay to see.”
Jooheon pinches his friend, but the redhead laughs and raises his hands to swear he’s just teasing—not that Mariam minds any of this. It’s not just the balance she’s growing used to—it’s their attention. She likes it more than she should, more than she ever thought she would, considering she’s never been one for the spotlight.
Changkyun shuffles off toward a pole where he grabs a cable and starts yanking. It’s a sight to see his bare arms flexing just as much as it is to hear his soft grunts, but before Mariam can revel too much in either, she is climbing higher and higher.
The seats grow smaller while Jooheon and Minhyuk stretch a net from tent pole to tent pole. She must be almost two stories up when she’s tied off.
“How’s the view from up there?” the ringmaster shouts.
“Incredible!” she exclaims, her feet kicking in unrestrained joy in spite of her rush of adrenaline.
“You want to try a spin?” Minhyuk asks.
“How do I do that?”
“Try swinging your leg to the side little by little and see what happens.”
The rotations are halting at first as Mariam finetunes her movements, but a few more gyrations of her leg to steady her rhythm, and she’s spinning properly. The silks billow with the breeze, like sails—like wings.
She is absolutely giddy. “I feel like a butterfly!”
“You look like one!” assures Jooheon.
After a moment though, she feels her head start to spin just like the swing, and she stills to let the motion come to an easy stop.
“Doing okay?” Changkyun checks in.
“Just a little dizzy.”
“Hold on tightly, okay? Lock your arms around the silks and in front of you, and we’ll lower you.”
As much as she doesn’t want to come down from her high, Mariam obeys. Since the guys have to roll the net back up, she descends even more slowly than she rose, and yet, it seems she’s down all too fast. She doesn’t have time to complain though because both aerialists surround her to gauge her carefully.
“I’m fine,” she swears, but that doesn’t stop their hands from steadying her in front and back, and that makes her dizzy all over again.
Changkyun, who has sidled up behind her, says in a husky voice, “We’ll do some artistic hangs now, okay?”
“I don’t have a lot of upper body strength,” she informs.
“We’ll get you into some positions that will make you feel so pretty. You don’t need to worry about a thing,” assures Minhyuk.
“Maybe they’re a little more daring,” adds Changkyun, “but we can tell you’re up for it, aren’t you?”
Mariam smiles. She’s up for a lot more than she’s willing to admit after everything she’s experienced tonight.
“Tell me what to do.”
“Music to my ears,” Minhyuk practically sings. “Okay, we’ll start super easy with a foot hang. It’s the perfect place to start trussing you up.”
Changkyun elbows his friend before he looks to Mariam. “Everyone learns this first.”
It is as simple as promised. With their support at her hips and feet, she climbs up a couple lengths on the silk using her feet to pinch the ribbon. When they call out she’s at the right height, they walk her through the winding of the fabric around her ankle and a trembling pike back where she slowly releases her fear and swings completely upside down.
She’s hanging by one foot. Her heart screams. Blood rushes to her head. She feels high even hanging so low, for in reality, her fingertips are just brushing the mat. And there is something about the way the chiffon feels coiled around her... It isn’t just the fact that she’s snared—the binding itself is exhilarating.
“Let’s test your flexibility next,” Minhyuk says as she hangs.
Mariam’s voice warbles as she tries to have a normal conversation when she feels part-bat. “Not sure how flexible I am, honestly.”
“You don’t know until you’ve tried. I’ll bet you can stretch a lot farther than you think you can.”
“Gravity will do most of the work,” Changkyun adds. “Here, lower your leg to the side just a bit, like shoulder-width.”
When she does, half of the silk follows as it splits. She gathers both sides in one hand, and the aerialists show her how to spread her free arm in the other silk until she makes a little box shape.
“You’re a natural,” Jooheon commends.
Mariam releases the box on instruction and then hangs free again until she’s told to drop her free leg farther and farther and farther. The wider she splays, the more her thighs and hamstrings shake.
Minhyuk wraps his extraordinary fingers around her ankle and adds the gentlest of presses. It occurs to Mariam how exposed she is in this stretch. As she dangles like a pretty piece of meat, the little isthmus of lycra is all that separates her most intimate secrets from their eyelines.
“You're incredibly tight,” muses the redhead. Maybe it’s all the blood rushing to her head, but his tone isn’t teasing; it’s heavy—dark. “We need to loosen you up. Let’s try Scorpion next.”
Minhyuk helps direct her leg back behind her like a scorpion tail, and at first, it is awkward, but then she arches her back, and the stretch feels wonderful. The move swings her to face Jooheon.
His smile is different. Perhaps it’s because she’s looking at him upside down, but it’s sharper, almost fanged at its ends.
“Nice and loose now,” murmurs Minhyuk. “Let’s try another easy hold.”
“I don’t know…” she hedges.
“This one’s right side up.”
With their help again, she’s released from her foot trap and eased down the ribbon a bit so they can help her contort her body, legs jackknifed, over the silk so it presses urgently against her heat. The pressure is intense, and she fights to hold in a surprised moan.
In this position, the silks have twined around her upper thigh while her hands are made to wrap the loose ribbon below around her waist. Slowly, they roll her completely through the twists so she is upright again and her upper hand has both ribbons in it. She dangles from a basket loop right up through her middle like an ornament.
Her legs knife into a T shape, and the ribbon holds her weight directly against her sex. Mariam swears she can feel her heartbeat in her core.
The fabric constricts her in all the right ways. It makes her extra sensitive—to the cool autumn air permeating the tent and the pervasive heat emanating from the redhead beside her. She is wound up in more ways than one.
She dangles like this, eyes down at the floor because otherwise she’d be face-to-face with Minhyuk. He seems to know this because he chuckles. He gives her shoulder a gentle push, and she twirls enough to catch a zoetrope of otherworldly faces.
“What a stunning mobile,” Minhyuk laughs again. “I’d like to hang you above my bed.”
“Wow,” Changkyun groans though it’s directed at his friend. “You are embarrassing us, Min.”
“No, I’m embarrassing you.”
“And Mariam,” the blue-haired man corrects.
But she isn’t embarrassed. She’s aroused—which is probably the most embarrassing part, if she thinks about it.
Minhyuk stills the chiffon, and now she has no choice but to meet him face-to-face.
“She’s not embarrassed,” he says with a sly grin, “but she is pretty. How do you feel about one more position before the final one, Mariam?”
“I’m up for it,” she says, her voice trembling as much as the muscles in her arms.
“Perfect.”
He shows her how to unwind until her feet are back on the floor, but that is short-lived.
“Grab hold of the silks together,” he urges. “Pull up as best you can, and don’t worry, we’re here to help as always.”
She follows Minhyuk’s instructions and hikes herself up, but she wasn’t being modest—she doesn’t work out save for irregular bouts of cardio, and she knows she looks a little pathetic, especially since her arms are more and more fatigued with each new stance. But Changkyun doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he seems to prefer it this way as he steps in and grabs her waist from behind, his sturdy hands splaying across her lycra-ed skin while his hips slot against her barely covered backside.
He hoists her up enough to get her feet off the ground as Minhyuk instructs, “Perfect, now, we’re going to help you flip over while you hook your leg around both silks, a little like that last position, remember?”
Again, with Changkyun’s help, Mariam does it, and she’s hanging upside down with one leg straight and the other crooked around the fabric.
“Use your hands to climb up,” Minhyuk continues, and with more help, she’s upright again. “Push this leg down as you pull the other up, like a pulley.”
That she can do herself, and Mariam beams before she gets a push in the back from Changkyun that rolls her over in the silks, the ribbons cinched tight around her hips while she swings free, held up by nothing but fragile fabric at her waist. Her arms and legs dangle free. She’s bait on the line, though she’s not sure what exactly she’s about to reel in.
Minhyuk gives her a little push so she sails wide with a cry, and they all laugh.
“How pretty!” Jooheon praises. “All dolled up in silk.”
Mariam feels her cheeks heat to unprecedented levels that have nothing to do with her blood rushing to her head and everything to do with the blood rushing between her legs from the gravity of their gazes.
“Very pretty indeed. A real princess,” Changkyun agrees. “But I think she needs a little circus shimmer.”
“Circus shimmer?” she echoes.
Jooheon nods. “They know what they’re talking about. They aren’t just aerialists but artists, too.”
The two performers still the silks and unwind her before helping her back to her feet. While she watches, Changkyun cups one hand and hovers the other over it, and in a matter of seconds, he has a pile of snow in his palm. He grips one side of the ribbons while his fellow aerialist grips the other, and together, they launch into the air in a wide circle around her.
Changkyun blows the snow into the air above her, and as their swirling whips it into a makeshift snow globe storm, Minhyuk puffs a thin jet of flame from his lips like a human blowtorch. The snow melts into water and rains down on her until every inch of her skin and hair is dewy.
The pair lands to appraise their work. Each man lifts one of her hands and brings it to their lips for a kiss, though Mariam doesn’t miss the blaze of Minhyuk’s tongue darting out to collect the wet glimmer on her skin.
“The starlet is truly shining now,” proclaims Jooheon in his loud ringmaster voice. “How do you feel, Mariam?”
She wants to keep the truth locked up because it feels like she’s bragging, but she can’t. She answers, “Pretty.”
“You are pretty. Absolutely beautiful.”
She looks at all three of them sheepishly now and brushes a loose, damp hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
Jooheon takes a step closer. “We’ve earned your trust, right?”
“Yes.”
“And we’ve made you feel special, too?”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“So,” the ringmaster hedges as he steps between his fellow performers and wraps his arms around their shoulders to draw the three of them into a tight hold, “would you trust us to make you feel even more special?”
Mariam swallows and her heart drops all the way down to her belly. “What does that mean exactly?”
She asks it even though she thinks she knows—she hopes she knows.
“From the inside out,” Jooheon replies.
“Desired. Adored. Needed,” adds Minhyuk with a lick of his bottom lip.
“Needed?” Her voice tips up higher than her hopes.
Changkyun casts a glance at his fellow performers and sighs lightly. “What they’re asking is, will you let us fuck you?”
As Mariam chokes on her surprise at his bluntness, Jooheon gripes, “I was trying to be a little theatrical for the lady’s sake.”
“It will be sun-up at this rate, and I don’t want to miss another second we could be spending with her, do you?”
“He’s right,” agrees Minhyuk.
Jooheon frowns at both of them, but Mariam interjects, “Is that why I’m here?”
“Isn’t it?” the redhead probes.
Is it? It wasn’t like she had sought out the Cirque du Fantasme on a flyer or commercial—for all intents and purposes, it had come to her—but it had come all the same when her life had started to feel constricting…
Repetitive…
Numb.
She could have left after the show just like everyone else had, but she’d lingered, and she’d lingered with some kind of aimless desire in her heart. For the show? For the beings in it? For anything more than what she’d been living her whole boring life?
“No?” says Mariam. “Yes? I don’t know. I just want…”
All three men lean in, their eyes as hopeful as their ears.
“I just want something different. Something exciting.”
“I know,” replies the ringmaster. “I’ve seen your dream. We’ll give you that and so much more.”
“We’ll give you our all,” assures Minhyuk.
Jooheon takes a step into her personal space, and Mariam’s world fills with him. His powerful voice drops soft and low, as ethereal as the chiffon fluttering in the cavernous tent. “You’ve got us desperate.”
“We’re begging, beautiful,” Changkyun adds, and his voice, which is always low, is dripping like paralytic venom from the fangs of lust now piercing her chest.
“Okay,” she says shyly.
“A little louder, baby,” says Jooheon. “It’s a big tent.”
“Okay,” she announces, “let’s do this. I want you. I want you all.”
The men beam at her before their smiles curl into something less jubilant and far more predatory.
Mariam clears her throat, but it doesn’t disguise the tremble in her voice as she asks, “Are we going backstage now?”
“No,” Jooheon answers with a shake of his head, “baby, no. You’re a center stage girl. You’ve been living in the shadows too long. It’s time for you to shine in the spotlight.”
She looks around the tent. “I don't know. Anyone could walk in.”
“Isn't that part of the fun?” retorts Minhyuk. “You are a part of the show now. Be a shame to waste all this pretty glitter in some dark back room.”
Mariam realizes then that he’s right. She’s putting up this pretense of hesitation because she feels like she is supposed to. This kind of clandestine encounter is supposed to happen to girls very different from her, not a strait-laced, small-town, once-religious princess. She’s been trying to break free—to find her true self—for years, but she’s always held herself back. In her heart, she’s always wanted things she’s been taught she shouldn’t want, but reaching for them felt impossible or wrong. What she’s needed is a push, and here are three men more than happy to push her into each other’s arms.
She bites her lip.
She falls.
“I’m ready.”
She reaches for the bolero to remove it, but Changkyun stills her hand. “Patience, princess. We may be circus performers, but we are also gentlemen. We'd like to kiss you first.”
“Really?”
Jooheon closes the space between them so his arms can encircle her. One hand finds a home in the small of her back, and the other weaves up through her lush hair to cradle the base of her neck. “I knew the second our lips met that it wouldn’t be enough. I’m a greedy guy, what can I say?”
Mariam rests her hands on his hips. She can feel the real him under his shirt, firm but yielding. She clings to him as though he’ll vanish if she doesn’t.
She pushes up on her tiptoes as he descends to her, and their mouths meet sweetly. This time she can be greedy, too, and she is—she takes those swollen lips and nibbles on their plumpness. Jooheon’s even more delicious than she’d imagined, and she falls into him completely, trusting that he’ll keep her upright in his arms because her knees have given out.
“What a hungry little thing,” muses Minhyuk beside the couple. Changkyun only grunts in response.
Abruptly, Jooheon pulls back. He looks down at Mariam, his eyes pitch black. Their panting see-saws between them.
“You don't know how hard I'm fighting to keep from stealing all of your dreams,” he grumbles, “and replacing them with ones of me and me alone.”
She licks her lips and savors the decadent sweetness of the ringmaster. She smiles at him. “After tonight, I don't see how I could dream of anything else ever again.”
Jooheon grasps her face between both hands and kisses her so enthusiastically that she tips back in his arms. His tongue probes her mouth as deliberately as it does deliciously, and it’s clear he knows just how to invade her body as he does her dreams. She feels weightless—who knows, after all she’s experienced tonight, maybe she is floating.
They both come up gasping for air, and Mariam huddles against Jooheon’s sturdy chest while his arms wrap around her. He kisses the crown of her hair and murmurs, “What a perfect answer. What a perfect girl.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” says Minhyuk as he comes up behind them and wraps the pair of them up in his arms.
She’s smothered between them—one hot and one absolutely blazing, though her body is lit up by a fire far hotter than even the fire sylph is capable alone.
Minhyuk scoops her hair back over her ear, and just the brush of his fingertips jolts her in Jooheon’s arms. The aerialist brings his mouth to her throat and suckles at the dew there even as the ringmaster continues to tackle her lips, and their tandem attentions make her tremble. Now, she truly is weightless as they have her pinned between them in a suspended state of bliss.
Suddenly, Jooheon pulls back with a laugh and then a growl. “Cut it out, Min.”
Mariam feels the redhead smile against her throat before she notices his arm retracting from under Jooheon’s shirt.
“Just wanted a minute alone with her. Can you blame me?” retorts Minhyuk.
“You could have just asked.”
“And you would have said no.”
Jooheon rolls his eyes, which all but confirms Minhyuk was right about his friend, but the guilt trip works. With one quick, final kiss, the ringmaster steps back, and before her body can ice over from his disappearance, the aerialist twirls her in his arms so he can kiss her ravenously.
His enormous hands grope her ass as his tongue roams her mouth, and once his base greed has tempered, his fingers work themselves under the tight elastic hugging her cheeks. He cinches the fabric until it’s practically a thong so his hands can return to knead the now-bared flesh.
Mariam whimpers into his mouth, and she can feel Minhyuk’s smile as well as she can feel his nails scratching the smooth skin of her backside.
He pulls back from her lips to study her, a strange sort of grin on his face as he looms over her like the sun. “You are going to look so beautiful tied up for us.”
“Tied—”
But before her question can escape, a chill ripples up her thigh, over her ass, to finally penetrate her stomach. Her eyes wrench from Minhyuk’s to find Changkyun’s hand splayed over her lower belly.
His voice is as icy as his skin as the other aerialist kisses her cheek, leaving a cold tattoo, and says, “You act so innocent. I know you’re not, doll baby. I have a feeling that once we start this, you’re going to beg us to never stop.”
“Please don’t,” she breathes.
Changkyun chuckles and Minhyuk joins.
“Already begging,” says the blue-haired man. “Jooheon’s right. Perfect.”
Changkyun turns her in his arms, and she feels like some trite Southern belle with the vapors, practically going limp in his grip as she basks in his elegant angles. His untouchable beauty bewilders her even more than his strange translucence.
“Kiss me, Mariam,” he orders.
Unlike the others, she must go to him, and something about that makes her feel small and desperate, like she’s crawling on her knees even if she’s actually in his arms. Her hands paw at his bare chest in pitiful attempt to bring him to her, but he stands tall, and she trembles on tiptoe to plead her case with desperate kisses along the breadth of his pretty lips.
When Changkyun is satisfied, he offers her mercy in the form of his mouth. He kisses her back with a sensuousness that his friends can’t quite match. They are bold and brazen where he is elusive and restrained. It makes Mariam all the more frantic for his attentions.
His tongue brushes hers at long last, and it’s like sucking on an ice cube. It’s as soothing as it is addicting. A shiver runs through her, but it’s not heat her body seeks so much as it is satisfaction. She’s overstimulated, but she needs so much more.
Jooheon clears his throat as though he continues to know all. “Kyun’s right. It’s time to indulge in the main event.”
#monsta x smut#le cirque du fantasme#october vibes#jooheon smut#minhyuk smut#changkyun smut#third person#trilogy
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cassie and Jacqui: Opinions and Thoughts
These are my thoughts and opinions on Mortal Kombat that a bunch of people probably won't care about, but I thought I should post them here. Now I will be using past games as reference, even though every character's interpretation/counterpart is different, they still play part to the canon storyline.
Okay, so these two are besties. Now before I get into any details, this is just theories and opinions. I just want to quickly say that I like Jacqui's character, and not just because I was able to play as a black female character, but I found her interesting and liked her romance with Takeda.
I'll start with Cassie. She is a nice enough blend of Sonya and Johnny, I guess. I found her a little annoying in mkx but only because of her intros, and to be fair a lot of character dialogue kind of sucked in that game. I found her very relatable when I was younger though, because I said a lot of cringey things when it came out. Other than that she was pretty cool, and was a different kind of case where a character voices out what everyone else is thinking. To be fair, Johnny has that as well but Cassie is Gen Z levels of voice (or an everyman). I also appreciate that they made her more girly, although I do miss the tomboyish Cassie from mkx.
Thing is, I don't like how they made it into a thing where they made Cassie feel like a main character, and while I understand that's how it must be done with next generation games, I get the impression that she was treated better than her teammates. That impression was solidified in the mk11 storyline where Cassie was chosen to be the new general with the addition of Takeda and Kung Jin being cut from the game. I get that she defeated Shinnok and whatever, but seriously? It was also a situation where Sonya was choosing randomly, so I think she should've chosen Jacqui simply because Jacqui is genuinely into being a soldier. For a moment the audience is shown the pain on Jacqui's face, and I was honestly anticipating some kind of rivalry to take place where Cassie and Jacqui end up fighting about something within the story mode.
I wrote in another post that I think Cassie joined the special forces because she wanted to impress Sonya. We know that from mkx Sonya was neglective, and if Cassie is much closer to Johnny then I don't think it would make sense for her to not have some appreciation for the creative arts. Meaning, Cassie yearns for Sonya's approval. It was also hinted that Sonya may have been abusive, randomly attacking Cassie and Jacqui with arm bars. Even while Cassie is an adult Sonya is still neglective, as noted in the last game, not even caring about Cassie's love life. It's very clear the two of them have problems with each other. One thing for sure, Cassie has inherited Sonya's cruelty which makes her snark different from Johnny's. A nice blend of seriousness and un-serious = obvious sarcasm. I'm also calling back to the 'Johnny pee pants' incident that she was told about.
"So how are things between you and Bob?" - Sonya
"For the last time his name is Dylan." - Cassie
"Why learn his name if he's not sticking around?" - Sonya
----
"I'm the new improved you." - Cassie
"(Scoff) Improved how?" - Sonya
Well for one thing, she's got powers.
----
"Jacqui says as kids you were scared of me." - Sonya
"You'd randomly attack us with arm bars." - Cassie
"And you learned to always be ready." - Sonya
The fact that she says this with a smug smile shows she sees nothing wrong with the fact that she went out of her way to scare and hurt children. Characters have been drilling in on Johnny but had nothing to say to Sonya about her parenting. Johnny made it his mission to change into a better person, even in his ending he didn't need people to tell him that he was doing something wrong because he realised it by himself. Sonya for whatever reason lacks that same awareness.
----
"Growing up I always wanted a sister." - Sonya
"To exchange style tips and dish on boys?" - Cassie
"No! To spar with." - Sonya
You can do that too, Sonya. Jeez.
----
"You are Johnny Cage's daughter." - Robocop
"Ha! Shocked I'm not some Beverly Hills brat?" - Cassie
Beverly Hills kids: Well... that hurts. I think it's somehow been engraved in Cassie that being any old normal girl is a terrible thing, and I don't support that "I'm not like other girls" nonsense. I think it was Sonya's influence, and potentially Jax.
----
"I am honoured to fight you." - Liu Kang
"I'm no chosen one, Li Kang." - Cassie
"You fought shinnok and won." - Liu Kang
Oh he's mad. He is so mad. Bro died because of Raiden.
----
Now with Jacqui.
I think Jacqui is in Cassie's shadow, hell they even erased her from her own ending. Even when she was given screen time it still felt like she was brushed to the side. Cassie was chosen to be the leader of the friend group, and in hindsight that was a bit predictable. In comparison to her Jacqui is rational and doesn't turn things into a joke. I know Cassie is serious as well, but Jacqui is more passionate about fighting for Earthrealm and being in the special forces while Cassie is more of a show off.
"Leave dad in peace." - Jacqui (mkx)
"There's things only Jax can do." - Sonya (mkx)
---
"What do you see when you look at me?" - Frost
"A cheap second gen knock off." - Jacqui
"I said look at me, not you." - Frost
These two are love and hate, two sides of the same coin. Frost wants recognition and goes against the Lin Kuei to have that, while Jacqui wants to make people proud and carry on a legacy. Both have a male counterpart of some kind. Frost disappointed Sub Zero for not being patient and she became a villain, while Jax doesn't want Jacqui to even be involved in anything kombat related. Jacqui follows, Frost demands command.
---
"Cassandra Cage overshadows you." - Cetrion
"In her own mind maybe." - Jacqui
"Do not deny your jealousy." - Cetrion
---
"It's time to pass on your mantel." - Nightwolf
"Baby girl's good, but she's not me yet." - Jax
"Don't underestimate your daughter, Jax." - Nightwolf
Notice the edge in Nightwolf's voice? Also, Jacqui doesn't have to be Jax. Not to mention she was trained by Johnny and not Jax, so it's weird of him to say that. I think she should be trained by Scorpion as a wedding gift and have a few Shirai Ryu inspired outfits if she's introduced to the franchise in future games. Anything that distances her from Jax.
---
Jacqui is called "unproven" and a "knock off" when she has in fact proven herself, she just hasn't beaten an elder God- oh wait, what is this? Jacqui defeated Cetrion? (Do not bring jax into this, I chose Jacqui). In mkx she beat Reptile and Ermac, the very same Ermac that Jax lost his arms to because he was caught lacking, and held her own against the revenants.
The characters constantly compare her to Jax, which is problematic in my opinion. As a person who was constantly compared to my older siblings growing up it felt like my identity as my own person was being stripped away from me, and I think it's the same case with Jacqui. Jacqui should be recognised more for who she is rather than who her father is, because Jacqui is just as good if not better.
"Such beauty in Kombat is rare." - Shang Tsung. Oh Shang Tsung, you pervert.
Now onto her friendship with Cassie. It's very obvious that these two grew up together and even went to the same school, which must've meant that they lived close to one another, like the same town or city. I don't think the two have always been buddy buddy, in terms of problems coming up. If it weren't for circumstances I think these two wouldn't even be close or in the same vicinity. Cassie went and dated Jacqui's love interest for prom knowing Jacqui liked him. I'm surprised these two are even friends.
Moving onto her relationship with Jax, I liked Jacqui bonding with the younger version of her dad during story mode, and seeing the differences between older Jax and young Jax.
I always saw Jax as an a-hole, but jeez. I understand being a protective father but he needed to accept that he couldn't breathe down her neck for too long. What ticks me off even more is his disapproval of Takeda. I think one of the reasons Jax isn't very fond of Takeda is because he mildly reminds him of Johnny. Takeda has that charisma about him and makes jokes as well and overall has this easy going air about him. Even after Johnny and Sonya got married, meaning Jax saw Johnny a lot more, I don't think Jax grew a liking to Johnny. I'm not sure if Jax truly had feelings for Sonya, but I do think it's a possibility if Johnny not only did not want to get between them under the suspicion that they were together, but also because he thought they would end up together.
I have a bunch of stuff to say. I believe Cassie should've done MMA fighting or something around there, that way Cassie wouldn't just be another copy of her parents.
If Jax and Sonya did end up together then I think the turn out would be more extreme. An overprotective father and a neglectful mother.
#cassie cage#jacqui briggs#takeda takahashi#johnny cage#sonya blade#jax briggs#mk11#mkx#mortal kombat theories
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whitney x F Player Hurt/Comfort Fic
Whitney isn't there to stop some students harassing his slut. But she looks so pathetic afterwards that he supposes he should probably look after her.
A Degrees of Lewdity fanfic. Contains references to the source material, references to rape, assault, and implied past medical abuse. Minor amounts of blood and injury. The fic itself is wholesome though. Ya know, as far as Whitney fics go.
1800 words - divider by firefly-graphics - @butterbabyflapjack
Masterlist
When you’re late for class, Whitney is irritated. He’d only showed up to bother you, if he’s being completely honest. Watching you squirm under his touches and try desperately to focus on your work, was quickly becoming one of his favourite pastimes. It’s made all the better on days you give in, spreading your legs or slipping under the desk.
Ten minutes pass and you don’t show. It’s uncharacteristic, and concern creeps, unbidden, to the forefront of his mind. He dismisses it, pretending you were stupid and had gotten lost on your way to class. He sighs and resigns himself to a boring day. Perhaps he’d track you down later.
Halfway through the lesson the door opens.
River doesn’t bother looking your way. “Tardiness. Detention.”
Whitney smirks at the punishment. Then you step into the classroom.
You hardly spare River a glance, instead trudging straight to your desk. You move with a heavy limp. There’s a defeated slump to your shoulders and you keep your eyes trained on your feet.
He takes in the finer details as you round the desk. There’s cum in your hair, and blood is smeared at your hairline. Your skirt is torn and your thighs are covered in fluids. You smell like piss and when Whitney catches your eye, there’s no recognition in your own.
“Oi, Teach. I think Player needs to go to the infirmary.”
River doesn’t turn from the blackboard. “Leave her be, Whitney.”
“She’s literally bleeding.”
River finally turns. Takes in your tattered appearance with widened eyes before addressing the class. “Page sixty. Copy and solve. I don’t want to hear talking.”
They cross the room and crouch before your desk, meeting your eyes. “Player.”
You blink. Frown. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
Whitney watches as you take in your surroundings. Shift your weight and wince. “Sorry Professor. I must have been on autopilot.”
“What happened?”
You crinkle your nose. “Got held up by some classmates.”
River leans into your line of sight. “Player. Are you hurt?”
“I’ll be alright.”
Whitney chooses that moment to poke you in the side.
You hiss, nearly falling out of your seat.
River doesn’t look impressed. “Whitney, take her to the infirmary.”
Out in the hall you lean against the bully. Today he doesn’t make a big deal out of the contact. Not as he watches you guard your chest and listens to your unsteady gait.
“Who did this?”
You shake your head. “I didn’t recognise them. ‘Think they were underclassmen. Couple ‘o boys.”
“How many?”
“Four? Maybe five? Dunno.”
His jaw clenches. Five other students dared to touch the girl he’d so clearly marked as his? He’s so aghast that he almost misses the way you plant your feet and sway.
“What?”
“I don’t want to go to the infirmary.”
He lets out a huff, trying to ignore the way your pathetic display makes his chest ache. “Why the fuck not?”
You look at your feet. Mumble, “I didn’t let them. I tried to fight back.”
A surge of pride goes through him, even as he shrugs. “So?”
“They might be there too...”
He grips you by the arm and tugs you into motion. “I fucking hope so, slut. But you don’t need to worry about that.”
The infirmary is, mercifully, empty, save for the nurse. Whitney scowls at her.
“If they were here, they’ve cleared off.”
You grab his jacket sleeve. “Or they haven’t stopped by yet.”
He raises a brow at your touch. You must be seriously unnerved if you’re relying on him to make you feel better.
Still, he shrugs and takes up post beside the door. “We’ll see.”
The nurse takes you behind a privacy curtain, but Whitney hears your examination. His rage builds with each question you answer, until he can barely sit still.
“Can you move this?”
“No. Hurts.”
“And here?”
“The same.”
After a minute. “I think you’ve cracked some ribs. You’ll have to go to the hospital.”
You sound panicked. “No. No hospitals. If it’s cracked, they won’t do anything anyway, right?”
“Sure, if they’re just fractures. But you need an x-ray. If there’re any major breaks, they could do some serious internal damage.”
Whitney watches their silhouette put a hand on your shoulder. Doesn’t want to imagine what kind of pathetic face you’re making to merit the gesture.
“I’ll give you a painkiller. Does anything else hurt?”
“My head.”
“Look here.” Pause. “Follow my finger.” Another. “Any dizziness?”
“Some.”
“Blurred vision?”
“At first.”
“I’ll patch up that abrasion, but I think you have a concussion. Even more reason to go to the hospital.”
Whitney shifts from foot to foot. Grits his teeth. Some stranger had been rough enough to concuss you. He’s absolutely livid.
His ears perk up when your voice lowers. You try to be discreet, but he still hears every word.
“I need some plan B.”
His anger increases tenfold.
The nurse recovers from her pause. “Okay. Do you want a kit too?”
You sound bitter. “And do what with it? Take it to the police?”
“Fine. Have you had plan B before? Shall I explain the side effects?”
You sound defeated. “I’ve had it before...”
Whitney suddenly feels unwelcome. He knows he’s intruding. He’s supposed to stay. To keep watch for any of your assailants. But he can’t help but turn away, guilty. He wonders how many times he was the reason you had to go to the infirmary, asking for plan B.
Deciding it’s one of the rare occasions where it would be best to display tact, Whitney steps outside. Waits by the door, menacing any who might approach with a glare.
The bell rings. Whitney waits until you’re finished.
You step outside and start when you nearly bump into him. “You’re still here?”
He rolls his eyes. “You leaving school or what?”
“N-no. I’ll finish my classes.”
He shrugs. Walks you to English. Doesn’t say a word. His silence is unnerving. It’s not until you’re at the doorway that he bids you farewell.
“I’ll see you after school, slut. Don’t be late.”
He waits until you’re seated at your desk before stalking off. Pulling out his phone and opening his regular group chat.
‘Some guys touched my girl. Find out who.’
---
Whitney waits for you after school. You’re late. River hadn’t bothered rescinding your detention, despite the obvious reason for your tardiness.
You look no worse for wear when you trudge outside, ten minutes later. It seems Leighten went easy on you today. At least, he sure as fuck hopes so.
“Got some errands to run, slut,” he links his elbow with yours. “You’re coming with.”
He doesn’t get your usual eye roll, or the bemused twitch in your lips. You just look tired.
He shoots a stare at the rest of his crew. “You lot fuck off. Unless you’ve finished that job..?”
His friends scatter, though there is a grumbled protest or two. But they won’t stick around. Not the ones who know him. Who can see the shadow of his anger, still hovering. Who’d received his message this morning.
You don’t react to his friends’ dismissal. Only startle when he starts walking, pulling you along.
You’re not in the mood to protest or ask questions. You’re not heading towards the docks, and figure Whitney can’t have anything worse planned than his occasional seaside jaunt. Besides, you’re alone with him. His treatment towards you without an audience tends to be... more forgiving.
But when he turns onto Nightingale Street, you hesitate.
“Where are we going?”
“Where do you think, stupid?”
He doesn’t expect you to plant your feet and pull your arm from his.
“No. No hospitals.”
“You heard what the nurse said.”
“I’m not going.”
He doesn’t understand the tears pricking your eyes or the way you cross your arms. It’s been a long time since you fought him on anything.
“Why the fuck not?” he fights to keep his voice down. He honestly doesn’t know why he’s bothering. It’s not until the glazed look in your eyes comes back that he remembers.
He tries again, gentler. “Babe. Did something happen?”
You look down. “I just don’t like the hospital. The head doctor... he’s a fucking creep.”
Whitney raises his brow. He doesn’t get to hear you swear often. Then he grits his teeth considering his options. Resigns himself to the most tedious one.
“I’ll stay with you. If you’re going to be such a baby about it.
He sets his shoulders before grabbing you and pulling you along again. He’ll bitch and moan about it later. Right now, he just wants you to get that x-ray. Even if it takes holding your stupid hand through the process.
---
Whitney is true to his word, and stays by your side through the whole ordeal. He doesn’t speak to anyone, just looms behind you, glaring at each medical professional you cross.
Dread grows within you in the waiting room. But when you’re called to be seen, it’s by an older woman. Not Harper. You could vomit with relief.
Whitney follows you anyway. Brokes no argument when the doctor raises her brow; asks who he is.
There’s no privacy curtain in the little room you’re seen in. Whitney watches with increasing fury as you undress. There’s a slew of bruises across your torso. Some look like handprints. He holds his tongue. Clenches his jaw.
The x-ray reveals several fractures, but no serious breaks. She prescribes you some painkillers, explains how to manage a concussion, and writes a letter to Leighton, excusing you from school for the next few days.
You hadn’t expected that, and clutch the printout in both hands when you exit the building.
“Wish I got to take time off every time I got into a fight,” Whitney complains once outside.
He’s irritated when you don’t respond. He gave you the perfect setup for a joke there.
Still, you look positively haunted, and he decides to let this one go. Puts his hand on your back and pushes you towards Domus Street. He’s tempted to walk you home, but doesn’t want to seem like he’s fussing.
Besides. It’s not too late to join his mates on the errand he gave them.
“Go home. Sleep it off. I’ll see you next week, slut.”
---
The next day several students are sent home early because of how badly they’re beaten. Somebody is pulled out of their locker, with chipped teeth and a fractured jaw. Two others are found splayed on the floor of the bathroom, ribs cracked, and noses broken. Another was left unconscious behind the bike shed.
Whitney is late for class, but his bloodied knuckles escape River's notice. Settling in to his seat, he can’t help but let slip a self-satisfied smirk.
#degrees of lewdity#dol whitney#whitney the bully#guilty writes#this is a standalone#but i have other ideas for player and whitney that i want to write#feedback and requests welcome
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
I went to watch the first Aquaman movie because I wanted to support Amber Heard. I wasn't interested in the movie but I watched it in theaters to support her, exclusively. I am a woman, a feminist, and I believed her completely. I enjoyed the movie, she was a good, stunning Mera, and I was happy to see her thrive. But I am pretty conflicted about whether I should watch the sequel or not. Just to be clear: I am not a fan of Depp, so you can save anything negative you might want to say about him 'cause I don't care. It's not that I support him, it's just that I supported her and I am extremely disappointed. Most of her fans also disappoint me - from saying she is the "better Ariel" as opposed to Halle Bailey who is black, to attacking Rihanna, a black victim of abuse, for supporting Depp (it's giving white feminism) to saying Depp is a drunk, addict, unprofessional actor. Being those things is wrong but not morally wrong. And again, idgaf about Depp, I simply point this out because there are plenty of people going through addiction out there and they don't need to hear how much of a "failure" they are. You throw Depp under the bus for being an addict, you're throwing most addicts under the bus too. Not cool. I think they claim he's unprofessional and drunk and a mess because they know it's no longer smart to claim he's an abuser.
He is not a savior, he is not an angel, he is not perfect. The thing is, he's not the one who was speaking for us, representing feminism or movements like MeToo. So, deflecting attention by saying the things he did wrong is unhelpful. "He admitted the things he did!" He admitted he took drugs and he was rude to Heard. I'm still waiting for Heard to admit something, anything. I am a woman, I am often inclined to believe women; and because of that I believe all his ex-girlfriends who claimed he is a flawed partner, toxic at times but not the monster she made him out to be. I believe Rihanna who was not afraid to tell her story of abuse and I believe Courtney Love, who was the most hated woman back on her day, before and after Cobain's death, and said she had empathy for Amber yet still hoped justice would be served. What you're doing is sacrificing the word of other women to keep giving this one woman validation, spreading misinformation/trolling. Why does her word matter more than Kate Moss' word or Vanessa Paradis'? Take a look at known abusers from Hollywood - once one of their victims speaks out, so do the other victims. This wasn't the case but you all keep defending her. This is why a lot of people are no longer taking feminism seriously. We need to be more careful about who we choose to represent us. With that being said, don't use this post to be sexist. That's all I ask.
I'm still conflicted, I still don't know what I'm gonna do but I think I will watch the sequel. Even after the way she lied about abuse, I choose to support the movie because this is probably the last blockbuster she will make in a long long while and while she absolutely brought her ruin upon herself by being vindictive, some people on the internet took things way too far with her. And as I said at the start of this post, I ended up actually enjoying the first film, even though I was only watching it for her. The queue is long so this probably won't be posted before the movie comes out, but I want to thank this blog for giving all of us a haven and I also want to thank you for reading, whether you agree with me or not.
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
i'm struggling to see how the script has anything in our favour... pls give me a hand you're my fav st blog and i always reread your posts when i have doubts but nothing is working rn lol
Okay—first off, and probably most importantly: scripts are not law. You cannot and should not take the script more seriously than anything you see on screen, given that its more a starting document that has to be edited and brought to life, not the show in and of itself.
Taking what is in a script and saying "oh no, we lost because THE SCRIPT said" would be like your professor throwing out your final paper, pulling out one of your earlier rough drafts, and saying "THIS is what I need to take most seriously and grade for concepts and final ideation...rather than their final product," with all your incomplete notions, underdeveloped concepts, and even things you realize later didn't work for making your final (actual) points included...which is what people are doing when they take a script more seriously than what they see on screen.
Just like it would make no goddamn sense to do that with an essay, so there's no reason to do it with a script....ESPECIALLY when we know that The Duffers are 1) more collaborative than a lot of creators (there are some directors where the script is law...Matt & Ross just aren't those directors), 2) there are quite literal obvious changes that happened between script and screen between The Piggyback script and The Piggyback itself, and 3) WRITING is not the medium this story is being told in—its television and film.
Scripts should only ever been looked at for the sake of understanding the starting concepts and ideas that M&R were trying to convey + learning their style/tone of writing, given that what was on that page eventually evolved through collaboration & editing to better convey a more cohesive, thematically comprehensive and even complex story on the screen (and the several mediums other than writing that make up a show that aren't writing) itself. Period full stop.
NOW. (cut because image heavy/script breakdown)
Maybe i'm just inoculated to any true doubt at this point, but: I fail to see what happened in this script that we didn't already know? Or...what would inspire so much doubt?
If its about the monologue, we knew already that Mike said he loved her, and if you read the script back in the version we got...El was literally pale, covered in blood, and losing consciousness as Mike was speaking...and holding onto his words like a lifeline because that's what you do when you're being choked to death. The cues in the moments around what Mike says make that clear as day:
Trying to imagine this scene holds any romantic connotations (in the form in the script, because, again, the script is not what ended up on screen) with these cues is like saying someone drowning in a pool wouldn't cling to the words of person trying to save them from the water, or "find strength" to keep trying to live...even if that person was a stranger.
There's nothing inherently romantic about holding onto someone like a lifeline, which is what this script delineates El doing...with a complete absence of positive "romantic" connotations in her or Mike's (or even ANYONE ELSE'S) responses to what's going on in the moment. Everybody literally thinks she's gonna die—and Mike is just saying whatever motivational thing he thinks is gonna get her to use her powers to stop herself from dying...after Will encourages him to use his leadership ability to help her out.
That...is what happened, both in the script and on screen (though the screen version is arguably WAY worse for romantic mlvn...which is a "good" thing if you choose phrase it like that)—
—and given that we have not one, but two different "romantic (or sexual) tension" moments written in this script as well, its really clear that the intention of the monologue was different than the others.
Even the scene where Argyle calls mike "Romeo" is more romantic-coded than that little monologue...and instead of lovebirds who get their moment like Lucas and Max, we immediately cut to Will being sad about it, which means we weren't allowed to just be happy about their little "flirty" moment anyway.
....like? This is just an ask so I'm not gonna go hard in on it (or comb over 127 pages again) but??? If the script gave you any doubt over what we've spent an entire year breaking down the show itself, the most important thing you can do is put it back in its correct context.
We're fine. Nothing changed. Everything is the same as it was yesterday morning, the canon of the show is still the canon, and the release of this was a rough ideation draft shared for the Emmys and not the final product we all drew our conclusions from.
I just. I guess I hope that helps you lmao. Also, I probably won't be doing any further breakdowns of this script though I did already pull some things I enjoyed before.
Thanks for the ask!
#i'll be so real and say I don't understand doubt coming off this script at all but. Like I hope this helps even on iota lmao#asks
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
my blog is a safe space for neo&xeno genders&pronouns.
i saw a post bitching about it so i wanna make this clear. i will never judge someone for the gender they identify as or the pronouns they choose to use.
for anyone who thinks that neo&xeno pronouns give the community a bad name i need you to get the fuck off the internet for five minutes and go interact with someone in person. people who use neos&xenos are not expecting anyone to use them. they fully understand that people most likely won't, which is why the first pronoun(s) they'll introduce is he, she, and/or them. then the rest follows. "its selfish to want people to use random words as pronouns. yeah. guess what? it's also selfish to want people to use your own preferred pronouns. it's selfish to want people to call you your name. it's selfish to want people to address you in any specific way. you know why that is? because your identity is something you get to be selfish about.
YOU get to decide how people address you. YOU get to decide your pronouns, your choice of identity, your name, your appearance, etc. you get to be selfish about who you are as a person. it is YOUR LIFE. BE SELFISH ABOUT HOW YOU EXIST. THAT'S THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT. "you can't expect people to use those pronouns" you can. and you should. it's called basic fucking manners. you address people how they ask to be addressed and they address you how you want to be addressed. what you can't expect is for someone to use your preferred pronouns when you refuse to use theirs.
i don't use any explicit neopronouns now (unless ny/nym counts, but i see them as xenopronouns? i dont fully know the difference though), but i used to. and you know what? i didn't give two shits when everyone used they/them. my neopronoun wasn't there for people to use, it was for me to have. because it was fun and i liked it. only my close friends used my neopronoun and it was one of my favorite things. because i knew strangers who were never intending to stay in my life were never going to use them. and at times i found i didn't want strangers to use it because it felt personal. like it was a nickname that only friends could say. i obviously don't speak for the entire community, but im sharing my experience with using neos to show that the chances of finding anyone who expects strangers to use their neopronouns are slim to nothing. they truly don't expect it.
neo&xeno pronouns and genders dont give the community a bad name, and most people truly do not care if they exist. "people aren't going to take you seriously" literally who the fuck cares? because i don't. and i guarantee those who use neos&xenos dont give a shit either. the whole point of pride is be proud of who you are regardless of who you love and what you identify as. neos&xenos have been around for a long ass time, and there are several people who used neos&xenos of their own that fought for people to be able to express them as freely as any other sexuality or gender. you don't get to exclude that community just because you don't like it. that's not your call to make.
i dont care if you're queer, trans, a poc, mentally ill, or disabled. i don't care what cringey fandom you're in or what kids' game/show you still watch/play or what fan media you create or what ocs/sonas/self inserts you have. i dont care what religion you follow or if you dont follow one at all. as long as you are a good person this is a safe space for you. and you can go through life knowing that someone out there loves you with no conditions attached, even if i dont know you. the way that you identify is valid. don't ever change yourself because someone, especially a stranger who knows nothing about you, tells you that you need to. you are perfect as you are. your identity is yours. don't let anyone else control it. because the only one who you can ever guarantee will be by your side until the very end is yourself. keep you happy.
#long post#i didn't really mean for this post to get so long but this topic is so important to me#and that's not even mentioning how a lot of things people claim are neos are just she/he/them in a different language#i hate how such a big part of the community is so openly transphobic towards neos&xenos.#its fucking disgusting. grow up#i am not sorry if you are offended by this post. if you dont like it get the fuck off my blog. block me right fucking now.#let people live their fucking life. they're not hurting anyone#just because you arent happy with your life doesnt mean others cant be happy with theirs#if neos and xenos bug you THAT much get off the internet. i hate saying this but you are genuinely chronically online. go enjoy the sun#there's bigger problems in the world than someone using meow/meowself as pronouns#neopronouns#xenopronouns#will be going back to sonic posts now but i needed to make this so if any antis are following me they can leave
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
How to Pitch to Duck Prints Press
A post by Duck Prints Press staff editor Lacey Hays.
In the publishing world, the word “pitch” conjures up a certain image. Perhaps you’ve been asked to write an “elevator speech” so you can quickly pitch your story to an interested party at a conference or meeting. Maybe you’ve participated in Twitter pitch-parties where you only have 255 characters to hook an agent. Every publisher and agent has their own expectations, and we are no different at Duck Prints Press. Since submissions are open again, we thought we’d take out some of the guesswork and tell you what we, as a press, are looking for.
For authors who have never worked with us before, the application asks for two submissions: a writing sample and a pitch. The requirements for the writing sample are listed as part of the rubric for each anthology. We’re often looking for something a little different with each project, so we highly encourage you to look over the rubric and follow it closely when selecting a piece of your writing to share. Otherwise, it’s pretty straightforward. We want to see the best of you—a polished selection of writing that sings to your abilities as an author.
What we’re looking for in a pitch is more subjective and a bit different from other presses. Many presses only accept fully written stories, so a pitch is used as a teaser to drum up interest. We choose authors for their storytelling ability, assessed by their writing samples, and then ask them to write us a new, never-before-seen story. While we don’t expect authors to submit completed stories, we do want to know you have a fully realized story you want to write that interests us and fits within the anthology’s themes and requirements. In essence, what we would like is a cross between a teaser and a summary—something interesting that tells us how the story will unfold and lets us see how it might fit in with the other stories in the anthology. Here are our suggestions on how you can create dynamic and interesting pitches specifically for Duck Prints Press:
Spoil us! No, seriously. We want to know the beginning, the middle, and the end of your story. Or, if not the end, at least give us a clear view of story progression with an intriguing hook. We need to know there is a story in your heart and that you know where it’s going.
Fit the brief. Every anthology is unique. Each one has a list of requirements, and your pitch should make it clear how your proposed story fits those requirements. If the anthology asks for a certain genre, a certain type of character, or a certain type of relationship, call those things out. Don’t make us guess.
Give your pitch some character. Who are the main players and what are their relationships? How do you want these relationships to resolve? Found family? Tell us! Enemies to lovers? Same! The characters don’t need names yet, but they nonetheless need to live and breath on the page.
Plot is everything. What does the main character (MC) want, what is in their way, and how does their life change? What motivates your MC? Who, or what, is the antagonist, and why? How do you want to resolve the plot (even if you leave off on a question?) You won’t convince us you’re ready to tell this story without conveying these aspects of the story.
Make us feel. Is there longing in your story? Passion? Anger? Romance? We want to get a feel for the tone as we read your pitch. Please make sure it matches the tone we’ve asked for in the anthology, though. A grimdark horror story for a “happily ever after” anthology won’t make the cut.
Take all the space you need. Each pitch has a maximum number of words. We give plenty of room to make sure you can fit everything you need because we’re looking for so much more than an elevator speech. Be aware of the flow, though. You want to be concise and exciting.
Edit, edit, edit. Your pitch is as important as your writing sample and should be edited to the best of your ability. It should be formatted well, have good sentence variety, use excellent grammar, and have been spell checked. We don’t expect perfection, but editing is a major part of our process. We like to see that our authors turn in their best work every time. It can often help to have someone else look over your work before you turn it in. We strongly encourage the use of alpha and beta readers for all press work.
Tag it. We ask that, in addition to submitting your pitch, you also submit a list of preliminary tags. Think about how you would tag this story if you were to post it on Archive of Our Own. Will your story contain potentially upsetting content like sexual abuse (on screen or off screen?) Character death? Harm to children? Our staff has a variety of life experiences and while we strongly believe in your freedom to write what you want, we believe equally in harm reduction and giving people the tools they need to curate their own experiences. We request more general tags as well. Are you planning a story that you’d call fluffy? Is it angst with a happy ending, or hurt/comfort, or whump? We’d love to see tags similar to those that would go in each section of an AO3 post: major warnings/potential triggers, type of relationship (if any), and “additional tags.” You don’t have to have everything single thing in there, and they can potentially change, but tags help us assess what tone and specific content you’re planning to include in your story, once it’s fletched out from short pitch to full length. Tagging is not optional.
Most of all, have fun! If you are in love with your story, we will see that love. You are applying to write with us because you have a passion for writing that you want to share with the world. Don’t get lost in the details and forget. We have authors from around the world who have written for a huge variety of fandoms, people who are native speakers and grammarians, people who speak English as a second (or third) language, people who dabble in every genre. What do we all have in common? A passion for the craft. We love to write, and we want to work with people who also love to write. You—yes you!—can do this, and we can’t wait to see what you have to show.
Looking for more information? We’ve got you covered; this is not the first time we’ve written about pitches!
Guest blogger Alec J. Marsh wrote a two-part series about Query Letters: Why Query Letters are Good, Actually and How to Write a Great Query Letter
The last time we opened for submissions, we did an anthology-specific post about what we look for in pitches, including samples of pitches we liked from applicants to our first anthology, Add Magic to Taste.
We also wrote a long post containing general advice on how to transition from writing fanfiction to writing original fiction.
Want some guidance on how to edit, edit, edit? Here are some quick tips on how to edit your own writing.
Who We Are: Duck Prints Press LLC is an independent publisher based in New York State. Our founding vision is to help fanfiction authors navigate the complex process of bringing their original works from first draft to print, culminating in publishing their work under our imprint. We are particularly dedicated to working with queer authors and publishing stories featuring characters from across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Love what we do? Sign up for our monthly newsletter and get previews, behind-the-scenes information, coupons, and more.
Through the month of January, 2023, all new monthly backers on our Patreon and ko-fi can claim a merchandise freebie in addition to all their backer rewards – which, depending on your backer level, could include a free copy of this story! Why not take a peek at what we have to offer?
#duck prints press#aether beyond the binary#guest blogger#lacey hays#publishing#weekly blog feature#writing advice
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
This was just a small prompt that my friend and I came up with about if Alfred could ever meet his past self. I would place younger Alfred as post-Revolutionary War.
“You hate me.”
The room seemed to fall completely still after that, the words lingering in the air.
“I do,” Alfred agreed easily, smiling thinly. “But I never liked myself all that much in the first place.”
His younger self visibly flinched at the bluntness of his words. “Way to be brutal, man.”
“Honest,” Alfred corrected. “Honesty is not brutality.”
The boy frowned, looking unsure now. “I guess I just haven’t learned as much as you yet. I haven’t learned anything at all really,” he mused, the last sentence mostly to himself.
Alfred paused for a moment, carefully contemplating what he should say next. “I wouldn’t say that, not really. I just already had to survive what you’re going through now. I’m further ahead in the sewers in other words,” he said trying to lighten the mood, but the joke fell flat.
Scrunching up his nose in disgust, young Alfred scowled. “Why the sewers? What does that even mean?”
Alfred chuckled at the familiar childish expression, shaking his head in slight amusement. “There’s a lot of words not meant for a kid’s ear that could describe our lives a lot more accurately.”
Young Alfred seemed to close down on himself after that. The look of unease and uncertainty was all too clear on his face as he glared at the ground. “How did you make it then? What’s there to hope for if nothing changes in the future?”
Alfred closed his eyes, the all too familiar ache spreading across his chest, before taking a deep breath and opening them again.
“Surviving. Surviving no matter what it costs, because if I’m dead than I won’t get to make any kind of difference anymore.” He placed a hand on his younger self’s shoulder, wincing at the all too familiar weariness in his blue eyes. “I’d rather hope than give up. And when I stop choosing to hope, than life becomes pointless.”
“Hope for what?!“ his other self spat, suddenly looking so, so angry. “What is there left to hope for?! The only semblance of a family I ever had hates me, nobody takes me seriously, and I’m always so confused!”
His shoulders drooped in exhaustion after the outburst, the anger suddenly leaving him. “And I’m so alone,” he said, the last word nothing more than a whisper.
Alfred pressed his lips in a thin line, choosing his next words carefully. “Hope that you find a shiny penny on the street.”
“What?”
“Hope that you win a prize for guessing how many gumballs are in a jar,” Alfred continued, ignoring the confused stare. “Hope you make it to the next green light before it turns red. Hope you can wake up early enough in the morning to see the sunrise. Hope that you can see someone you love smile again.”
He backed up a bit from his younger self, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “You don’t need to understand life, or overcome every tragedy or throws at you have to hope. Even though it never really gets better you have to choose to hope. Even when there's nothing left you can choose to hope. Because if you have hope you can survive, because you're looking for the smallest thing to hold onto."
Young Alfred rubbed at his eye, trembling slightly. "And when you're all alone? When nobody's there?"
The question felt a lot like being punched in the gut. Alfred cleared his throat, blinking back the tears that threatened to escape. "You'll have to choose to hope for someone who chases all the gloom away for you.
The boy looked at him for a moment, contemplating the truth behind his words. "Or learn to chase the gloom away. That's what you did. You learned how to be okay."
And there was no way for Alfred to hold back the tears now. "No. I had to learn it's okay to not be okay. Being sad and upset doesn't make you a bad person. When you snap and lash out, it doesn't make you a irredeemable monster. It means you have a right to not be okay for now."
"For now?"
"For now." Alfred repeated, giving him a watery smile. "Because bad is inevitable, but that also means good is inevitable too. They can't exist in their extremes without each other."
The young boy in front of him choked out his next words, so quiet that Alfred had to lean in to hear them. "I never expected to still be here, you know. I was surprised to see you."
"I know." His voice broke. "I know. But we did it anyways."
“And it still worth it? Even without him?”
Alfred chuckled at that. Some things never changed after all. "Yeah, yeah it's worth it. We made it worth it."
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
I don't know if there's anything to say about this situation we seem to be in. My psychiatrist has made it very clear she thinks my headmates are hallucinations, or dilutions and that if we get my antipsychotics right they will go away. I have no diagnosis so she might be right. But if she is then I'm going to feel very bad as though I've been lying and I'm going to lose people who've been very nice to have around with me. And if they don't go away she might try a different antipsychotic even though this one fixed the hallucinations that were actually issues. I feel like I lose no matter what. I wish all of this was much easier. Sorry if this all didn't make sense. Hope you're well. And if you're not I hope you are able to feel better soon
hey, we are so very sorry to hear you’re going through something like this. we’re not sure what sort of advice we could provide to help you here, but we’re seriously wishing you the best.
where we live, we get to have a say in what medications we take, and won’t be prescribed a medication that we’ll then be forced to take without our consent. maybe this is the same where you live? it may be worth it to look up the laws in your area regarding mental health medications and the rights of patients who are prescribed them.
our prescribing doctor also has recommended us antipsychotics in the past. we are prone to delusions and episodes of post-traumatic psychosis. however, we ultimately decided against taking them because, like you, we were nervous about how they might impact our system. in the end, we always have had the opportunity to agree or disagree with our doctor when it comes to managing medications.
it might be worth it to ask yourself a few pointed questions like:
1. what are my hallucinations like? do my headmates feel, act, behave, look, etc. similarly to my hallucinations?
2. are my headmates causing me distress? are they impairing me or making more difficult for me to function?
3. do i want my headmates to go away? is taking antipsychotics worth the risk of losing my headmates?
we’re not trying to persuade or disuade you from taking antipsychotics here. rather, we’re hoping you can do a bit of self-exploration to try and learn how your headmates are affecting you and what you hope to achieve with regards to taking medication in the future.
there are systems out there whose headmates are indeed hallucinations. hallucinations don’t have to be bad, and it’s quite possible to have pleasant or even helpful hallucinations. just because society scorns psychotic folks doesn’t mean those of us who experience psychosis should have to put a stop to our positive symptoms at all costs. you deserve agency and autonomy in your life, and yes, that includes agency to choose how you manage your hallucinations and delusions.
ultimately, we just want to express how sorry we are that you’ve been put in this difficult position. regardless of whether or not your headmates are hallucinations or delusions, you deserve the right to choose whether or not you can keep them around. we hope that, either your psychiatrist will have a change of heart and accept your perception of your system while allowing you to have a say in the medications you take, or you can find a better prescriber who is more willing to listen to you and take your concerns seriously.
good luck with everything. seriously, we are wishing you the very best.
🐢 kip and 💫 parker
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Taemin's personality according to tarots
What is this reading about? In honor of his comeback, I decided to do a little reading on his personality. It's divided in three parts: in the first one I picked a card that would represent the core aspect of his personality, then I picked a total of six cards that would describe what he thinks about himself and what others think of him. The last part is about his positive and negative traits, again I picked 6 cards.
Of course it's impossible to know what each person think of Taemin. Everyone has their own unique views, so I simply tried to look into what are the general opinions going on.
The third part of the reading will be about his positive and negative traits. Positive and negative can be a very vague definition, but I tried to consider which sides of his personality are helpful (for him and for others) and which traits are negative for him and for those around him.
I've been preparing several readings similar to this, one of them should've been posted in honor of D.O's comeback, but procrastination is my second name so here I am, more than one month later, posting a reading about another idol :')
Also, have you enjoyed Guilty?
Disclaimer:
My readings are made for fun and you should read them for fun too. So don't take them seriously.
The main aspect of his personality:
4 of cups
He might feel unsatisfied, there’s a lot more out there, so much potential, so many things that can be better, that can be improved, yet they seem out of reach.
He might lack appreciation or not be fully aware of what he has, of what he achieved.
4 of cups is someone lost in their thoughts, sitting with their eyes closed, dissatisfied, bored. But if only they opened their eyes, they would notice the wonderful nature around them, the clear waters, the stars in the sky.
He feels unfinished and like a raw material that still has a long way to go before it can be called a diamond.
Perfecting himself is the core of his identity.
4 of cups is almost like an "introverted" card to me, so he's probably someone that doesn't open up easily to others and who tends to bottle up his feelings.
How does he see himself?
Rev The empress, rev the tower, ace of wands
It’s interesting, the empress is a very feminine card, it really represents the female energy in cards. It represents sensuality, nurturing and creativity.
All things you would connect with Taemin, right? But here the card is reversed and I think it can be interpreted in two ways.
The first message I get is that he might not feel fully comfortable in his androgynous image. I’m not saying that he hates it, but he might wonder “what if I tried to be something different?”, “is this really ok for me, what I truly wanted to do? Am I just pleasing others?”
It's possible it's an persona that fell on him, he just accepted it and he didn't really choose it himself.
The other message I get is that he might be insecure about his creative direction, he might feel bored or unsatisfied.
The other point I get from the cards is that he might consider himself as someone who is somehow holding on, despite whatever life throws at him.
He tries to protect what’s dear to him, even to the point of being uselessly stubborn. Sometimes there’s less effort in rebuilding from zero a destroyed house, than trying to protect it by constantly working to fix it.
For example, he might be the type to try his best to keep a relationship, even though it would be better to let it go and start something new with another person.
It might also mean that he's simply someone who does always the same things, maybe with a fixed routine, maybe he's someone who always gets the same food in the restaurant or something similar.
I think he’s very anxious about big changes, he wants to have a solid basis and work to improve that, rather than giving up to start something new.
He’s an overall creative person, with lots of new ideas and always interested in new challenges.
How do others see him?
Rev the chariot, 8 of pentacles, 7 of cups
Some actually think he might lack direction and be a bit out of control? As if he doesn’t have a balanced energy or an objective view of himself and what’s around him.
He’s obviously considered as a successful person, with a great work ethic, who achieved important milestones.
They think he’s someone who has a lot of potential, someone who might as well try something new?
While they know he’s already very successful, some people around him might believe he could be bigger if he wanted to.
They might be like "bro you could do anything you want", but Taemin tends to be a bit afraid to jump in completely new fields? Or he needs a lot of contemplation before deciding to do something new.
He might lack the confidence to go out of his comfort zone, out of what he knows he does the best.
Positive traits:
Rev 5 of cups, 8 of swords, the lovers
There’s a childish energy about him.
I think he hasn’t forgotten his roots, he hasn’t forgotten who he was before becoming “the Lee Taemin” everyone loves. It’s possible he has good relationships with his family/childhood friends and that he enjoys going back home whenever he can.
Success didn’t change him.
Despite his tendency to keep his feelings to himself, he just seems like a really lovely and emotional person.
He might be too caught up in his inner turmoil, he might have issues with how people perceive him, but he’s truly someone ready to give love to whoever is lucky enough to be close to him.
He also tends to be faithful and loyal.
Negative traits:
3 of pentacles, rev 6 of pentacles, rev queen of pentacles
He might be too focused on his craft at times, forgetting everything else. There might be a bit of a duality here, working Taemin is a very rigid person who will only focus on improving and learning, ignoring everything else, while off-work Taemin is a much sweeter person. The problem is understanding which one of them you’re dealing with.
He might have a bad management of his money. Either he’s too generous or too stingy. It’s possible it depends on the person.
He might be the type of person who is generous because he expects something back.
He might be too obsessed by his status, like he really wants to look good and to keep his reputation.
He might be prone to isolate himself too much or he has a bad work-life balance that brings him to not give enough quality time to his loved ones.
It's possible he's also not so good at taking care of himself and his surroundings.
19 notes
·
View notes
Note
helloo ! How are you ? I hope that you're not sick anymore ^^.
I was wondering, like what if the facility started to chase Breg after a few month or more and then, they found him. What would happen ?
One thing that I'm sure is that Breg would become mad, probably try to kill them. Maybe he will try to hide it to s/o so he doesn't have to tell them about his past ? What if they find out anyway ? How would they react ? Would they help him ? How would she react to seeing Breg lash out ?? How would Breg react afterward ??
(so many questions ! sorry if this is a bit too long and not very well put)
[Hellow 👋, I've been fully recovered for a day I think.]
First, you might want to look at these posts, they'll give you the general idea: 1 ; 2 . I'm going to focus mostly on the latter part of your ask.
The first thing Breg would do when he encounters, or preferably just spots, someone from the facility would be- Surprisingly, to avoid confrontation. It's more trouble than it's worth, put simply, even egghead knows that. Sure, he could gut one unit sent out to retrieve him feasibly, but who in the right mind wouldn't send an entire capture squad? This is the cream of the crop of the breeder facility, Breg knows it couldn't just be one random sod looking for him.
The best course of action is to move. Quickly. Breg would like to do this without saying anything about his past, but it would be hard, if not impossible. And he seriously considers just grabbing you and hauling ass without a word. He might. Anything to keep those curdled wounds deep in his soul. Sooner or later, there comes a point where he has to sit you down for a talk- Lashing out about the severity of his status as fugitive will warrant a fit of his own, and though the breeder won't hurt you, he'll make it known he's not fucking around. That you, of all people, should be the last one freaking out right now. Is him being a wanted modified specimen a deal-breaker for you? Too bad, angel. Too bad. He didn't choose this.
If you somehow make it clear you know about his past without the breeder ever having mentioned anything of the sort, then you have now just dipped into very dangerous waters. No one knows about his past. Aside from Fasma that is, but Fasma's digging has been subtle, Breg isn't aware the ectoplasm monster knows the nitty-gritty of his prior existence.
Breg's immediate reaction will be some manner of violence. Because who would know about his past, if not someone who had been to the facility itself? Who worked there. This is one of the rare times where Breg will do some damage to your body, whether it be nearly choking the life out of you or compressing your chest so hard to the ground that you crack several ribs. It's then that you see just a glimpse of the beast this monster can be, and how positively angelic he behaves around you. If you found this information through Fasma (the most likely scenario), then snitch on him to save your life. Otherwise you will very likely die in this encounter. Sure, you're sentencing the ecto-monster to a lot of hurt, but he's been through a lot- The old fart can take it.
Afterwards, in the best case scenario, things will be tense. Breg doesn't want to talk about it, he doesn't want to open up yet, and he won't.
37 notes
·
View notes