#Visual representation of me right now

[joy-girl]

Reading Naruto 393 be like:

[that-one-loz-nerd]

Not being good at art is the most frustrating thing in the world

[formulavroom]

pedri?? is that you??

yes.

[wonwoonlight]

that’s so real bc i don’t start actually working until i finish my iced coffee and rearrange my entire desk space 😭😭 the first hour is just me mindlessly going through my calendar and scribbling on post it notes LMAO

THANK YOU for validating me glad to know it's a universal experience. I literally work remotely but apparently it still doesn't matter bc my brain is just Not Working yet the first hour 😭😭😭 i usually check emails without actually registering what's being said and go through work messages that i refused to reply after working hour lmao

[purgatory606]

A visual representation of me right now

[interact-if]

Our second edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series features beloved author, C.C. Hill (@when-life-gives-you-lemons-if)!

(CC is an absolute institution. What better way to celebrate Valentine’s than by doing a feature of the slice-of-life romance queen herself? CC is one the most inspiring, supportive IF writers out there, and it was a great honor to pick her brain! Read on for pandemic-setting feel good stories and Creole-based spells!)

Author: C.C. Hill

I'm from Haiti, born and raised. I love red wine, ice cream, and I'm obsessed with true crime podcasts.

Games: When Life Gives You Lemons (Slice-of-Life)

Synopsis: You play as an MC starting a new life in a small town called Lemon. It’s a story about self-discovery, love, and parenthood—a comfort story where the love interests want to sweep you off your feet.

Games: The Midnight Saga (Horror)

Synopsis: After finding yourself trapped in another dimension, you and your friends must fight for survival and defeat the monsters that lurk in the shadows. Make sure to grab a weapon as your quiet Halloween night turns into an out-of-this-world adventure!

Quote from the interview:

What mostly inspired Lemon in particular was the need for a feel-good story—a story where the character just needs a break. No magic, no monsters, just going through life and having the romance options fall in love with them no matter what. It was just the need for comfort, for feel-good moments, for romance, and a little bit of drama.

Read on for the full interview!

Tell me more about yourself! What are some things new readers or long-time readers might not know about you?

I'm from Haiti, born and raised. I love red wine, ice cream, and I'm obsessed with true crime podcasts.

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

I'm working on so many things it should be illegal for my brain to operate this way. But mainly, When Life Gives You Lemons. My plan is to focus on the final part in March, do some beta testing, and submit it to Hosted Games in April for my birthday month.

I'm also under contract with Heart’s Choice, writing Spices of the Heart, with hopes of completing it this year. On top of that, I’m working on publishing my first visual novel, The Wedding. It’s close to completion, and I have the third quarter of 2025 planned for publication.

I only started writing interactive fiction in 2020. When the pandemic hit, I needed something to keep my brain occupied, and five years later, I’ve published three games and still have a ton of projects in progress.What mostly inspired Lemon in particular was the need for a feel-good story—a story where the character just needs a break. No magic, no monsters, just going through life and having the romance options fall in love with them no matter what. It was just the need for comfort, for feel-good moments, for romance, and a little bit of drama.

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

My first game, The Midnight Saga, was heavily inspired by my background and where I'm from. The story itself is based on an old Haitian folklore about not staying outside after midnight—if you do, the Keeper of Midnight will eat you. I took that idea and built the characters around it.

I even managed to include some spells written in Haitian Creole. It was a lot of fun to write, and even though Book 2 is currently on hiatus, this story has a special place in my heart because it was my first game. The characters are a representation of my people and the struggles they’ve gone through. I’m really happy that it was my debut story.

What are some of the most rewarding or challenging aspects of writing Interactive Fiction for you?

For me, it’s branching and being able to write an MC and other characters in a way that readers can truly connect with. Lately, I’ve been writing a lot of feel-good romance and slice-of-life stories, and I’m starting to feel like this is my comfort zone—and I want to stay here forever.

I never want to create a romance option that is inherently bad or purposely deceitful. My biggest challenge is writing characters who are flawed and complex—where readers can love them or hate them—but making sure they aren’t just villains for the sake of it. They’re simply existing in the world they were created in.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

My writing process is a mess. My brain gets pulled in so many directions. When I get an idea, I have to code it, shape it, and give it life—otherwise, it’s going to bug me forever. That’s why I end up with so many WIPs. I need to see them through, at least to a short demo, to see if they make sense.

My desk is also full of notes, and I basically write on anything—pieces of napkins, tissue boxes, whatever is nearby. One weird habit I have is that some of the best changes I’ve made to my games, those "spark" moments, happen when I’m in the shower. It’s weird and strange, but it works.

What’re you excited to tackle/implement/work on next? Or anything you’re looking forward to in the year ahead?

Keep writing romance and feel-good slice-of-life stories. Get When Life Gives You Lemons published this year. Focus on doing this full-time. Publish my visual novel.

Overall, just stay busy and be productive.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be?

To the readers—us authors don’t have all the answers. Sometimes, we start writing a story and end up forgetting certain plots or characters, which is easy to do when writing interactive fiction. So yes, we often write ourselves into a corner and just put a period there so the story can progress.

To the authors—write stories you love, something you would want to read. It makes it easier to keep going because if it’s a story you love, you’ll want to see how it ends, and that will push you to persevere.

This-or-that segment: (red = CC's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

Angsty or Cozy romances?  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Introvert or extrovert?

Plotter or pantser?

[twobitsblade]

Hi!!! I saw your poll and I was wondering if you could write a 60s!Elvis X Reader fic, where Reader is having a hard time at work because they can't seem to keep up with everything and Elvis finds them crying outside their work place? Comforting them and asking why they can't just let him take care of them?

Take all the time you need!❤️

(hello, thank you so much for requesting this! it was slightly difficult to write since this is my first time writing smut, but i hope you all enjoy it. i’d love to see more requests featuring elvis in my inbox!)

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ MY HEART BELONGS TO DADDY !

a work of fiction written by @twobitsblade and inspired by @atleastpleasetelephone, @jhoneybees, @wanderingelvis, @lustnhim, and @theelvisprincess !

contains: smut (obviously), reader and elvis are married, elvis is a cocky know-it-all with hints of the 1960s male mindset !

you and elvis had been together for a while now; around three years of loving, fighting, and arguing, but you knew that at the end of the day he’d always be there for you. and you knew that even when you took up a new job at your aunt’s boutique—something which elvis discouraged multiple times (“oh m’baby, you ain’t needuh do these stupid ol’ jobs, m’the one providin’”)—while you were very thankful for him, your aunt desperately needed your help, and who were you to turn her down?

but it turns out that perhaps elvis was right—this job began to be a lot more than you’d signed up for. originally, the deal was you’d wear a cute dress, get your hair done all nice (for free, mind you), and greet the customers, but then more and more duties started being asked of you.

“oh dear, can you go bring the boxes from the basement?” “can you go downtown and pick up some new hair dyes? we’re all out, and the shipment won’t be on time?” “can you give her a little trim? it’s not too complicated.”

while you don’t like to think of yourself as spoilt, you’re not very used to working these types of jobs. i mean, you and elvis have been together for years, and you’d gotten used to the comfy lifestyle he provided you.

one day, it just became too much—you were turning around like a dog, fulfilling one task after the other, and it didn’t help that you barely slept last night. it’s not like you could tell elvis about this because it’d prove him right, and you can’t handle that damn cocky smirk on his face as he tells you how he knows his little one wasn’t made for such hard work.

you sigh, placing your things down—the sound a bit louder than intended, causing you to flinch. you toss off your high heels, lazily running up the stairs of graceland and into the bedroom you and elvis shared—grand, beautiful, and decorated by both of you as a visual representation of your love for the other—but now all it felt was suffocating.

you plopped down on the bed, not bothering to change out of your outdoor clothes, and laid your head facing the ceiling when suddenly you heard rustling and groaning, causing you to turn your head as you saw the back of elvis’s head. he slowly turns around to face you, clearly still half asleep.

“mmm, hey m’baby, how’s work?” he says drowsily, grabbing you by the collar of your dress and pulling you close, wrapping his leg around your waist.

“it was fine, el—fine as usual,” you say, though he wasn’t stupid; even half asleep, he could tell. he groaned, rubbed his eyes, and sat up.

he looked you up and down before smirking—god damn it—“well, what’s the matter, huh, little ’un?” you rolled your eyes and weakly shoved him, the shove barely moving him.

“i said it was nothing, didn’t i?” you groaned, but he doesn’t care.

“ah, f’god’s sakes, just let me take care of my babygirl…” he groaned, grabbing you and laying you on top of him. you tried to pull away to no avail, causing you to let out a mewl which made him chuckle—everything about him was irritating you in that moment: his baby blue eyes, his tan skin, his perfectly, oh so disgustingly perfect smile, and the softness with which he looked at you, his girl. you sighed, resting your head on his chest and stifling a sob, and he noticed, tangling his fingers in your hair, “shh, m’girl, tell daddy what happened.” you did, and even though it all came out as incomprehensible high-pitched, whiny rambles, he nodded as though he understood you—not just your words, but the language of your soul.

you eventually felt content, done venting. you sighed, wiped your tears, and looked up at him, and suddenly you chuckled. it wasn’t quite wry but not quite from happiness; you felt good—elvis always had a way of making you feel good.

and in your exhausted state, you needed him, needed him badly, and he could see that; after all, he knew you inside and out. his hand went down to your back, then to your hip, then to your butt, then to your thigh, causing you to feel slight tingles coursing through you—you hated that, you hated how easily he could get you in such a vulnerable state.

“baby, come on, you need to open up for me. how else can i keep you safe, huh, lil ’un?”—ah, the typical elvis double entendre.

you nodded slowly, turning around on his lap so he could unzip your dress, the slight friction causing him to groan, “fuckin’ tease, you are…” he said, unzipping your dress slowly but surely, “ah, m’girls wearin’ somethin’ fancy, hmm?” he said, observing your baby pink bra with lace detailing. your face heated up at his words as you expected him to unbuckle your bra, but he didn’t.

he linked his fingers underneath the clasp and pulled you backwards so that your back rested on his chest, as his hands, in a painfully slow manner, slid down from your cleavage to your ribs, to your belly, down to your pelvic bone, and under your skirt—and you arched into him, causing a giggle to escape him. “hmm, needy, ain’t ya?” he said, his fingers rubbing circles on your clothed cunt as you squirmed into his touch. he slipped one finger underneath the fabric and then inside you, causing you to let out a loud, high-pitched moan—and god knows he wasn’t going to be the one to silence those sounds—then another finger, then a third and final one, as he slowly began pumping them in and out of you. you lost yourself in his touch; incomprehensible words mixed with moans left your mouth drowned by his groans—the sounds almost pornographic.

he pulled his fingers out and wiped them on your dress, causing you to whine at the sudden emptiness you felt and at the vulgarity of the action.

he rolled around so that you were now under him, and a surge of excitement crossed you.

he removed his pants, then his boxers, his erect cock springing out from them. he grinned, “y’ready m’baby?” you nodded, preparing yourself as he aligned his tip with your entrance, your wetness working as the perfect lube, and slowly—painfully slowly—he entered you, moans leaving your mouth as your mind became dazed, hungry for the man you loved so much.

slowly, he began thrusting in and out repeatedly, causing you to let out a strange sound—a mix of a scream and a yowl—with his fingers digging into the sensitive flesh of your hips. “mm, take it for me like a good little girl.” you nodded, continuing, and as you felt your climax approaching, he nodded, a silent signal that you could release yourself, and so you did—all over him—and soon after, he followed.

you both plopped down onto the bed with a sigh. he looked at your tired frame with admiration, the sweat glistening off your body and making you look like an angel. he hugged you slowly, “m’girl, you gotta be honest with me; i’m always gonna be takin’ care of you, aight?” you nodded, letting out a gentle mix between a whimper and a sigh as his body embraced yours.

[love-byers]

i've said before that some of the biggest byler proof is that mike was willing to fight with will instead of look for his distraught girlfriend

like if he loves el the way he says he does then why in hell would he STOP looking for her to argue with will??

but i want to specifically talk about this

"Well what about us?"

"What?"

mike stops in his tracks and swings around when will says that

why he reacted that way is an entire different topic of conversation, and this post isn't about that

rewatching this episode, a lot of watchers probably thought "no, mike, don't turn around, el is right there!" because we know el is in the employee's room right behind mike. obviously mike doesn't know that, but it's about the visual representation of mike turning away from el and devoting all of his attention to will in that moment when there's something arguably more important going on with the supposed love of his life

mike was walking towards his crying girlfriend, and the question "what about us?" from will made him stop in his tracks and turn away from her.

if i was looking for the love of my life who i knew was crying somewhere alone, and my friend tried to pick an argument with me over us growing apart, i would be BEYOND pissed. like hello im not talking about this right now we need to find my gf???

rewatchers who ship mlvn are thinking "NO MIKE WTF ARE YOU DOING SHES RIGHT THERE UGHHHH"

and before antis come in here saying "mike didn't know she was in there!!" I KNOW. it's not about mike knowingly choosing will over el in that moment, it's about the visual representation.

[bonus-links]

Ruins pt 16 please 🥺

OUGH YEAH THIS ONE

I wanted to give Loft a chance to explain a little bit of his ideology around what being the capital H Hero means to him. Despite all his misgivings about having his life orchestrated for this purpose, he 100% would do it all again, no questions asked. He firmly believes at this point that being the Hero and wielding the master sword is still a blessing. I also think from his perspective, if it really is true that Demise is going to curse this land forever, it's imperative that there's always a Hero willing to take up the mantle. Slate doesn't want the title, but to Loft he's already doing the action, and that makes him worthy of the sword. They're, like. fundamentally disagreeing on what being "the Hero" even means.

Also, having Fi as a companion was really important to him. I think it brought him some comfort to think that future heroes would have that too. To find out that they didn't, and that one even 'rejected' her entirely really upsets him.

also, if you don't actually need the sword to defeat the great evil, the whole thing kind of falls apart, right? Remember, nearly Loft's ENTIRE journey revolved around forging the sword for this exact purpose. What did he do all that for, if you don't need it in the end?

as a sidenote, slate definitely has more than '6 hearts' worth of health lol, not that I'm taking that literally. this was just kind of visual representation of the sword sapping his strength. I think it's interesting that while this isn't the only game that locks you out of pulling the sword until you're strong enough, it is to my knowledge the only game that hurts you for trying if you're not.

Slate's first champion sighting! Whether or not Champion is trying to stop him here or finally letting the sword go is up for interpretation, but if you ask me it's kind of both. Also, for the record, only Slate saw him.

bro is fucking flabbergasted. he 100% did not expect to actually pull the sword. world view altered. Slate genuinely did try multiple times, before ultimately resorting to the nuclear option of facing Ganon without it. He went into the fight with the expectation that he would probably fail and die. To pull it now, after everything is said and done is,,,,frustrating to him. To severely understate it.

the koroks all cheering with loft 😭

i think this is my favorite slate I have ever drawn.

I think Loft had definitely hoped for a little bit more of a reunion with Fi here. This chime is the only indication she's there, and even then he's not sure.

[noodle-is-unstable]

What size and look are the JJK Characters 🍆

(Head Cannons)

Ft ~ Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, Toji Fushiguro, Ryoumen Sukuna, Choso, Takuma Ino, Shiu Kong, Uraume, Yuki Tsukumo, Shoko Ieiri, Mahito

Synopsis ~ What size and look are the JJK Characters 🍆

Content Warning ~ 18+, 🍆 descriptions. Idk adult stuff (Picture of monster 🍆 for reference)

BEFORE I START!

We are being (semi) Realistic here. Smut writers are out of control with the sizes. Here is a visual representation next to my forearm. This is 12 inches (30.48cm), basically my entire forearm and hand.

I'm a monsterfucker along with a lot of you but lets still be a little realistic here. No one is taking a foot long, subway sandwich length dick and not heading to the hospital after. This is an 8 inch monster cock and it is huge. 8 Inches (20.32cm) is BIG

Also while I'm at it GOJO DOESN'T HAVE 6 INCH (15.24cm) FUCKING FINGERS! WHO STARTED THAT?! He would look like salad fingers! fucking Slenderman ass fingers. Just no! Andre the Giant didn't even have 6 inch (15.24cm) fingers! He was 7'1" (2.24 meters)! Stop the Gojo finger LIES

Anyhoodle, that's my rant and information now enjoy the head cannons 💖

Gojo~

Size: 7.5" (19.05cm) Long. Not super thick but not awkwardly skinny either. Very middle of the road thickness

Description: Pale like him, blue veins can be seen all over it. The veins are very tactile and pop out a lot. Tip is also fairly pale but a blush pink. Leans slightly to the left

Geto ~

Size: 7" (17.78cm) Long. Thicc with two C's

Description: Two toned, darker at the base and more pink on the top 1/4th. Thick vein running underneath. THICK tip. Curves up

Nanami ~

Size: 7" (17.78cm) Long. Not terribly thick but a good girth

Description: All the same colour. Very aesthetically pleasing with one prominent vein up the right side. Tip is the same colour as the shaft. No lean, very straight

Toji ~

Size: 8" (20.32cm) Long. Thick too. He's a tanky man and his cock is the same

Description: Darker tone than the rest of his body. Fat veins running along it, very prominent. Tip is slightly lighter but still more tan than pink. Sharp right lean

Sukuna ~

The Twin Terrors are exact twins so this applies to both.

Size: 12" (30.48 cm) Long. Equally as thick as a forearm (He's a literal monster. Fight me.)

Description: Slightly pale compared to his body. Veins aren't super visible and don't poke out much. Tip is a deep pink in contrast to the rest. Tattooed circle at the base. Both gently curve up but sag because of the weight

Choso ~

Size: 6.5" (16.51cm) Long. Not thick or thin

Description: Prettiest cock you'll ever see. Same tone as his body. Deep blue veins that don't pop out much. Baby pink tip. No lean, very straight

Ino ~

Size: 6" (15.24cm) Long. On the thicker side

Description: Lighter than his body. One dark and thick vein running up the right side. Pretty pink tip. Small, almost invisible, left lean

Shiu ~

Size: 7" (17.78cm) Long. Slightly thicker than average

Description: Slightly darker than his body. One fat, light blue vein on top, doesn't pop up much. Tip is only a slighter shade of pink. Small right curve

Uraume ~

Size: Unknown

Description: It's unknown what happens between the ethereal beings legs and I won't be speculating. It's a portal to a different dimension for all we need to know

Yuki ~

Size: Everything from 3" (7.62cm) to 15" (38.10cm) Long and any thickness can imagine

Description: Yuki is a collector and has every kind of cock shape known to man or monster. Her dildo collection is unmatched

Shoko ~

Size: 5.5" (12.70cm) Long. Most average thickness

Description: Shoko prefers a very average sized dildo. Not too big, not to small. just average

Mahito ~

Size: Anything

Description: Just say what size, shape, colour, curve, thickness and Mahito will provide. Get ready for things to get weird because you can literally fuck any monster with him

[bitethedevil]

The Science of Why Raphael Won’t Get Tf Out of My Head

It’s your local doctor in cambion physiology here. I’m going to take you through my theory about why Raphael is stuck in our heads. It’s all based on Science™, of course. Some of these carefully studied theories are dependent on the fact that you are the owner of a uterus. If you aren’t, then idk. I can’t help you. You’re a medical anomaly. It’ll all make sense in a moment, don’t worry about it.

There are a couple of things that I believe are necessary for prolonged focus on a specific character (Source: The Devil, Bite. 2024: Pulled it out of my ass):

Attraction: It helps if said character is hot.

Versatility: I’ll explain later.

A feeling of being able to relate to said character

Attraction

There’s this theory about how women’s attraction to men changes in accordance with their menstrual cycles (source and source). Basically the study says that when a woman is at her most fertile, she prefers more traditionally masculine looking men. However, the rest of her cycle she might prefer men who lean more towards the feminine (both in general qualities and physical attributes).

The whole point of this, is that at ones most fertile, it’s full on monkey brain genetics going “he looks strong and male, so he’ll make good offspring”, while for the rest of the time, it’s more attractive to find someone who actually has good partnership potential. Someone who is reliable and caretaking, and who would be stable in a longer relationship.

I suppose you could sum it up to one being a more romantic attraction while the other is more of a primal and carnal attraction.

Now I want you too look at this very educational graph that I used a couple of minutes to slap together:

Basically, my argument is that though Raphael is not stable or caretaking in any form, the difference between the two forms still visually fits into the two respective categories. His human form for the rest of the cycle, and his cambion form (the ascended form too if you’re freaky, I guess) that seems more traditionally masculine when fertility is highest.

That means that you can look at his dumb face throughout your whole cycle, but might feel a shift in which one you find more attractive (if all this science stuff is correct).

Even if the science behind all of this is bullshit, I still believe that different forms help when it comes to not getting tired of looking at someone.

Versatility

I’m just going to say it, even though my heart might disagree: Raphael would not have the effect he has if he was a more explored character with more screentime in canon. We would all love more Raphael, but I really think the reason for his longevity in our minds is that he is still somewhat mysterious.

Which parts are actually him and which parts are performance? What is he like behind closed doors? How much devil and how much man is he? We don’t really know. We have been given puzzle pieces, but there’s still a loooot of space free for interpretation, which is honestly what makes him great.

It’s been said before in this little corner of the internet: there are so many versions of Raphael, and the great thing is that people are never fighting over which Raphael is the “right” one. Some prefer Soft!Raphael, while others prefer Dark!Raphael. The versatility of his character’s representation allows for that, which I know at least has kept me interested for a long time when it comes to writing him.

Being able to relate

In much the same vein as above, people find different ways to relate to him. The thing on top of that is the feeling that we shouldn’t be able to relate to someone like him, which adds a certain level of taboo to it which is interesting.

He is both the smoothest mf alive and the biggest cringefail loser behind closed doors. He’s obsessive, weird, and too fucking much to be near for a longer period of time. He writes his contracts as songs because he likes ‘whimsy’. He’s got daddy issues and makes that everyone’s problem. There’s a lot to him that someone would at least be able to relate to at some level.

In conclusion

He is without a doubt the character I have hyperfixated on for the longest time, and I know it’s the same for a few others. I genuinely believe it’s because there is so much to him. If you get tired of one aspect of him, there are always other aspects of him to focus on, both physically and psychologically, instead.

And there is some variation to the attraction that I atleast can feel myself. If I have written a lot of darker stuff about him for a while, I get the urge to write something softer, and the cool thing is that you can do that and it still makes sense with the character. My preference for his forms vary often too.

Even when I tried to focus on other characters, I found myself returning to Raphael, because those other characters were often too fleshed out canon-wise. It quickly bores me because then there is a limit to what you can do with them.

There is a lot to Raphael and he’s like a glob of clay. You can mold him into whatever you like.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

[terriblepersongreatseamonster]

Something that comes up in the light novels is Maomao acknowledging that she feels safe with Jinshi. It even comes up after volume 5. Some spoilers for the light novels ahead.

Maomao isn't like Jinshi when it comes to experiencing love. For Jinshi love is this overpowering, overwhelming, fiery thing. Maomao doesn't seem to be given to those types of feelings about another person (rare medicine ingredients are a different story 😅). And I think this is a part of why Jinshi's attempts to use his seductive charms on her don't work.

Maomao's life before Jinshi was not very safe. Yes, she had people who loved her & did their best to protect her, that's very clear. However, she lived with the constant threat of abduction &/or rape. Years after it happened, she still has nightmares about her mother cutting her finger. She also grew up believing Lakan had abandoned her & her mother for the first few years of her life (and he freaked her out once he did come back).

Safety is one of those things that you don't really think about, unless you've experienced feeling unsafe. While my childhood wasn't the same as Maomao's, there was a tremendous amount of food & financial insecurity. My mom's mental health was not the best, and while the abuse was never physical, there was abuse. I was not safe with her. When I was in my mid-30s, a few years after I got married, I had a startling realization that for the first time in my life I felt safe. My husband & our home made me feel safe. I looked back at when we got together & it dawned on me that the thing that drew me to him was how safe he made me feel. Even now, 5 years later, being able to feel safe is overwhelming & something I'm grateful for.

I experience feelings very similarly to the way Maomao seems to. I think that's part of why this story has really caught my attention. I do think Maomao loves Jinshi, but it's a softer, slower, calmer version of love, & certainly not the kind of romantic love we typically see depicted in visual & written media. He makes her feel safe.

Personally, I don't fully understand her being able to feel safe, because of things like the choking scene. That scene made me sick to my stomach, tbh. Both Jinshi & Maomao are masochistic. They didn't grow up seeing many, if any, healthy representations of attraction & romantic love. Maomao saw love being a transactional thing that people bought & sold. Jinshi saw his dad/brother take what they wanted, whenever they wanted from their concubines & consorts. They also live in a setting & culture that is fairly different from the kind I live in. By no means am I excusing or condoning things that, as far I'm concerned, qualify as sexual violence. However, I can look at the factors that have made both Jinshi & Maomao the people they are & the way they behave/interact with each other.

This is a work of fiction. These aren't real people. This is not a story for everyone, I can see it being very upsetting for people depending on their own life experiences. If characters always did the good thing, made the right choices, it would pretty boring. A story should have things that make you think. Characters should have depth & growth/development. This story does all of that.

[tofics]

When Time Stood Still

Pairing: no outbreak!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: In a universe where the apocalypse never happened, Joel gets drunk and regrets breaking up with you, resulting in a video tape he wishes he hadn't sent... Set in a timeline somewhere around Joel's 40th year around the sun, where he hasn't allowed himself to really love anyone since Sarah's mom - at least until he met you.

Word Count: ~3.5k

Tags/Warnings: alcohol, mentions of a stroke/aneurysm, broken hearts, angst, regret, fluff

A/N: This idea came to me after watching Pedro perform "For All The Lovesick Mad Sad Geniuses" by Ngozi Anyanwu as part of the 24 viral monologues by the 24 Hour Plays. This fic is based around Anyanwu's incredible monologue and Pedro's performance of it. Please give it a watch, especially if you'd like a visual representation for half of this fic 😅

They say that some things have to be felt to be understood.

A sentiment you had never subscribed to. If you could imagine it, you could understand it. That was how you saw it.

Until the day that Joel showed up at your door at 10am on a Sunday morning, hair disheveled and brows furrowed, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Time really did stand still then.

You hadn't seen him in months. Hadn't expected to see him now at your front door either. It just wasn't the kind of thing one expected after a break-up. Hoped for maybe, sure. But expect it?

Not in a million years. Not after he'd shattered your heart into a million tiny pieces, fragments so little that even months later, you were still in the process of gluing it back together; trying to find matching fragments in a sea of chunks and shards. They cut you sometimes, sharp edges and all, memories bleeding into the now. It made you wonder now, just for a moment, if you were hallucinating him.

"Did you watch it?"

The hallucination spoke with his voice - Joel's voice - and then it pushed past you (with all the force of a very real being) into your living room.

You watched as Joel marched over to your couch, shaking up the blankets you kept on it for comfort and warmth, then digging through the cushions.

A cold draft blew around your bare legs. While the Joel-shaped person blew through your living room, you stood by your front door, handle in one hand, a sagging slice of toast in the other. The bite that was still in your mouth had taken on the consistency of cement.

Is this what a stroke feels like?

You could only briefly wonder if you had blown an aneurysm before hands were on your shoulders and you heard your name being spoken in that awful, awful favorite voice of yours.

"Hey, hey. Focus. Did you watch it?"

This version of Joel was different than the one you knew. His hair was a bit longer. Messier too. There was more silver in it. Bags under the eyes, dark and heavy. They matched the dark irises that were boring into yours. Your Joel's eyes had always been warm, like a cozy fire that was happily crackling on in the background. This Joel's eyes had none of that. His were dull and empty, like a fireplace long forgotten.

You liked your version of Joel much better.

Like a bizarre game of ping-pong, you matched this Joel's eyes as they flicked back and forth between yours. Left-right-left-right.

A deep sigh, and though you didn't think it possible, the light in his eyes darkened even more.

"Of course you saw it. Of course. Fuck."

He sat on your couch, face in his hands. Another cold breeze blew through your open door and rustled the loose papers on your dining table. With goosebumps all over your legs you closed the door to your apartment, sealing whatever hallucination had blown through inside of your apartment.

"Would you like a glass of water?" Stroke, hallucination - you figured it couldn't hurt to be polite. There was a guest in your house, and you had manners.

It was also the only thing you could think of to say.

Because what was the alternative? Demanding to know what he was doing here? A plausible choice, if he was real. The jury was still out on that one.

You set your slice of toast down on the nearest end-table, the strawberry marmalade having lost all its appeal. It'd have to go on the "forbidden items" list once this was over, joining its brothers and sisters with memory-jogging-capabilities. Another thing lost to Joel Miller. Would the list ever end?

Once you dared looking over again, you found the Joel imitation staring at you like you were the alien in your own house, not him.

“I also have coffee.” Did figments of imagination prefer caffeinated water? You didn’t know.

He regarded you for a moment longer, then nodded slowly, as if coming to terms with something he’d been struggling with.

“Of course you’d wanna talk about it,” he mumbled, seemingly more to himself than you, then: “Coffee’s fine.”

Talk about what?

You filled a mug for him, then repeated the question out loud.

'Joel' accepted the cup with a dry snort. “You’ve always been too kind for your own good. Y’don’t gotta pretend. Go ‘head. Lay it on me. I deserve it.”

A somber expression took place on his face, one you’d seen him put on before meetings with clients he knew had a bone to pick with him.

You blinked at him, trying once again to figure out if this was happening or just a really absurd dream.

“Umh.” You felt the strong urge to reach for your phone. Didn't Google have an answer for everything? 'how to tell if a person is real' 'how to politely ask if someone is real without coming off as crazy' 'signs of mental breakdown' Wouldn't that be a fine addition to your digital footprint.

You cleared your throat, hands nervously twitching at your sides.

“Uh… don’t take this the wrong way. Please. But, umh, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Joel's fingers fumble across the screen, accidentally swiping back and forth between the photo and video option a couple of times. A frustrated sound bubbles up from the back of his throat before he finally manages to settle on the correct setting. A tap of his thumb, and the countdown starts.

10, 9, 8, 7...

The visual on the screen shakes as Joel hastily props his phone down against the makeshift stand he created out of books and manuals. It's not perfect, but it'll get the job done. Hopefully.

Little beeps accompany the dwindling numbers until there's silence. He glances up at the screen, half-convinced he's fucked it up again - but there's the big red stop button, along with counting numbers at the top.

The tape's rolling, metaphorically at least.

A grin breaks out on his face. Victory. He did it. He's doing it. He's doing this.

He's going to pour his all into this video. Gonna put into words what has been trudging through his brain in an endless loop. He's gonna make you see, that you're still here, in his heart, his brain, his every fiber-

The numbers are going, running away from him. The tape's rolling, and he hasn't said a word so far. Out loud.

The smile falls from his face as he sombers, focuses.

"Hi."

The greeting hangs heavy in the air. It sounds unfinished to his ears, lacking one of the many endearments that used to follow his hellos.

"I... I, I, I..."

He had a plan. A speech, if you will. All laid out and practiced in his mind, but now that he's doing this, talking to you... He knows it's just his phone. But it's not. He's not talking to a mechanical box, he's talking to you. And that knocks the wind out of him.

Joel takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knows he has to say. Needs to say, or his head will implode. His chest might too.

It's now or never.

"I was thinking about you. I always do, around this time - every time of the day, actually... Uh, anyway. You're probably not even thinking about me." He's moved forward, more subconsciously than purposely, leaning towards the camera.

"Do you? Ever think about me?" Please say you do. "A little?" Please.

The picture of your smile enters his mind, distracting him momentarily. God, he misses you like a desert misses rain.

You're getting off track. Shit.

"What was I saying. What am I... What am I saying...? Don't lose track. Fuck!" He straightens momentarily in the hopes of straightening his thoughts along with his spine. This is so stupid. What is he doing?

"What am I saying!" He can't help but grin at his own incompetence. You used to lovingly tease him for it, the way his mind would sometimes scramble mid-sentence when he looked at you. God, this is awkward. He had a whole speech planned. Where did it go? What did he want to say?

Joel rubs his hands over his face, then claps them together. Focus.

He had a speech. A point. Time to bring it across.

"Do you remember - d'you remember when we saw that - what was it? Uh..." Fuck, what was it called? He snaps his fingers like the memory will snap back into his brain if he just does it enough. What was it called?!

"You remember?" Please say you do. "They used to be in these big ass expensive fuckin' buildings - you remember? What are they called... Erm-" What's the fucking word! Joel can't remember for the life of him. Perhaps the various whiskeys he's had have something to do with it. Either way, this is going nowhere. He's trying to make a goddamn point, for Christ's sake!

What were they called, what were they called? He knows he has one of them lying around. The papers that used to come with them. Probably still do. The little leaflets, you saved so many of them...

Joel doesn't realize he walks out of frame, nor the ruckus his search causes. Shit, this place is a fucking mess. But he knows there's one of them somewhere. He has kept them all, even if he didn't keep you. Don't think about that now. Don't. This is why you're doing this. Focus! Too many empty beer cans. He swipes them off the counter, along with his toolbelt. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is... There!

Joel hurries back to the camera, holding up the leaflet triumphantly. It has the word "PLAYBILL" stamped across its front. "Plays!" He beams at the camera. Finally. "This dude." He raps his finger against the thick paper. "The Last of the Sad Mad Geniuses," he reads the title. It was one of the first ones you and him saw together.

"Remember plays?" You have to. There's no way you forgot. "Songs?" You used to sing them all the time. In the shower, in the car. "Poetry?" He'd read them to you, verses you found in old books you picked up at the flea market. Your head on his lap, one of his hands in your hair-

God, why did he let you go!

You probably don't remember any of it.

"Yeah, me neither." The beer and whiskey slosh around in his stomach. Fuck, his head is kind of spinny too. Wait, didn't he have a point?

"What was I saying?" A point, yes, he had a point. "Right, umh." The play.

Joel holds the pamphlet up again, taps its cover. "Remember we saw this play, and you laughed so hard you peed a little..." You had been so embarrassed, but it just made Joel love you even more. Your joy was contagious. It'd make everyone smile. Him. Sarah. Most of all him. It makes him smile now too, just thinking about it. What was that line again?

"What was that fucking line in the play? How the fuck did it go? If - if if if -" Get it the fuck together, Joel. Focus. What was that line?

"If you got one friend when you die..." He hears your echo in his mind. It's hollow now, not as clear as it used to be, your voice slowly fading into obscurity as the days without you begin to outnumber the days when you were still his. If you got one friend when you die...

"...then you got something most people never have." He finishes the line and takes the verbal punch to the gut. Who knew theater could predict the future? You'd been his, and he had cast you away. For all the good reasons, the good and bad, though they all seem bad now in retrospect. Why the fuck did he push you away!

"And I tried to quote that shit back at you..." He sees you clearly now, down in that alleyway about a block away from the theater, your eyes shining with tears of laughter. "And you laughed at me, cause I fucked it up-" Like he always did. Like he had, with you. Finish the story.

"And I kissed you-" And then he threw you away. Suddenly, the tears are too thick to hold back. They burn in his throat, on his tongue. Fuck, fuck, hold it in, hold it in. Joel's breath trembles as he speaks again. "And you let me-" God, it hurts to breathe. His chest is too tight for his lungs to spread. There's not enough air, not in his lungs, not in this room, not in his heart. Fuck, his heart. It hurts so bad.

"And it-" Breathe, he has to breathe. "And it rained like we were in a fucking movie! And life was never better than that." The sobs come as the truth hits him smack in the face. He loves Sarah with all his heart. But you? You completed him. Filled in the cracks that opened when Sarah's mother left him. You made him whole.

Which means that he not only broke your heart, he broke his own too. In trying to do what he thought was best, he broke the both of you.

Joel thinks this just might be the moment that death comes and takes him. Almost hopes for it as he faces the ugly truth of his own actions. "Shit," he curses through his tears, then again. "Shit! What am I saying?" Didn't he start this full of confidence, with a plan? "Wh-what was I saying?" Breathe, Joel, breathe. Focus.

"Right. Right!" He remembers, now. The question he meant to ask.

"Why did you have to love me like that?" None of this would have happened if you hadn't loved him, after all. He wouldn't be here, suffering worse than he did after the mother of his child left him, left them. He wouldn't have to face the fact that his good intentions had been anything but.

"Why did you have to love me back!" It comes out in a yell, all wound up and tight like his anger is inside of him. At you, at himself. Mostly himself.

"You know? Why'd you do that?" Why did you? Love him back?

"You'd have to have known that you'd - you'd send me into a kind of madness, you know. Sometimes... Sometimes I think, maybe, uh... I made you up." Say that you were real. Say that we were real. "Sometimes," Joel whispers and wishes nothing more than to hear you answer him.

"So I go into the quietest parts of this house and... I whisper your name. I wish I could scream it." He should. "I should." Should he? "Should I scream it? I will. I should." He inhales deeply, your name already at the tip of his tongue. Just say it. Scream it. He wants to. He does. But his throat is locked up, your name heavy on his tongue like lead. Try as he might, it won't roll off.

The air dissipates out of him like a deflated balloon. He's dizzy, his stomach in an uproar. His pulse pounds in his ears.

Joel glances at the screen of his phone. Five minutes in, and he's only made a fool of himself.

"Yeah, I... I can't send this." What the hell was he even thinking?

Joel sat on your couch like a statue made of stone as you watched the video. If you'd had looked up from your phone, you'd have seen him flinch and cringe during various moments, but alas, your attention was fixated on the video Joel had sent you.

You hadn't seen it before he arrived. As a rule, you avoided your phone until after you had finished your breakfast, and Joel had interrupted you right in the middle of it. To be fair, the rule had only recently come into place, more specifically after Joel had broken up with you. Not immediately after, only when you noticed that you would scroll through his old texts and stalk his business' website like a madwoman, or - well, like a woman with a broken heart. You knew it was unhealthy and getting you nowhere.

So you hadn't seen it, not when he had sent it and not the morning after. Not until he showed up at your door like a ghost from the past you had tried to summon with your heart every day since he had cast you out.

You could hardly believe your eyes nor your ears.

The Joel that had recorded this had clearly been intoxicated. That, or someone had switched out your version of Joel for one that spoke a lot more openly about what he felt.

Silence filled the room when the video ended. You saw your own stunned reflection in the reflection of your phone screen as turned black.

"Umh-" You searched your mind for the right words, for the appropriate reaction. What did one say in a situation like this?

"I know," Joel interrupted your thinking before you could get anywhere. "M' sorry. Shouldn't have... I shouldn't have sent that. Or recorded it to begin with." He scoffed. "Just goes to show wha'a fool I am. M' sorry you had to see all that." Joel didn't look you in the eyes as he spoke. His eyes landed on your half eaten toast instead. "Sorry I interrupted your breakfast too." You saw him run a tired hand over his face, heard him sigh. "Guess I'm sorry for a lotta things these days."

Was he? Sorry? For breaking up with you?

For all he'd said in the video, that much still wasn't clear. You could assume, of course, but you had also assumed that Joel had loved you enough not to send you on your way, and you had been wrong about that.

"Why did you love me, Joel?" It wasn't quite what you had intended to ask, but it was close enough. You could tell it caught Joel off guard by the way he froze in place.

He took so long to answer that you were almost convinced he wasn't going to, or that he didn't know how. You couldn't have blamed him for the latter. It was hard to summarize why you loved the people you did, especially when put on the spot. To his credit - and your surprise - he tried regardless.

"Because you made me whole." He said it quietly, but with conviction. And then, for the first time since you had clicked play, he met your eyes. "Cause you love loudly and without fear, n' I loved it so much - you so much - that it scared me. Terrified me, actually." Joel was on his feet now, slowly approaching you. "What you gave me, I haven't felt that since Sarah's mom left. Hell, if we're bein' honest, I never allowed myself. But with you..." He came to a stop in front of you, and now you could see flickers of that warm fire in his eyes again. "Never had a choice."

Though he looked more like the Joel you knew again, you were starting to doubt his realness once more. How else could you explain the man you loved so deeply standing in front of you, telling you all you'd wished to hear ever since he had cast you out?

"You took my choice, too." For all the good he was saying, there was still a lot of hurt inside of you. "When you told me to leave, you took away my choice of staying with you despite your fear." The words felt wide and heavy, awkwardly shaped lumps that you had to force out of your throat and over your tongue out into the world. You blinked ferociously, trying to keep the few tears at bay that had pooled in your eyes.

Joel's face twitched and crumpled at your words. His arm jerked, like he was fighting an instinct, and then he brought a thumb to your cheek regardless, wiping away a single tear that had managed to escaped.

"I know," he rasped, visibly trying to control himself. "N' I'll spend my whole life makin' it up to you. If you'll let me."

And despite the pain he had caused you, despite the many nights you had cried over him, you didn't need to think twice to know your answer. You still loved him, after all. And in spite of it all, it seemed that Joel Miller still loved you too.

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[cripplecharacters]

hello! feel free to ignore me if this is slightly outside the boundaries of this account, but i'm a tabletop roleplaying game (ttrpg) designer looking for opinions on mechanics for disability in games.

my game specifically covers a lot of themes that, while not about disability, would make me feel remiss to not include some explicit mention of how physically/mentally disabled characters fit into the greater picture of the game. it has a specific focus on telling stories of diverse characters, for one, and on fighting the unfair capitalist systems that harm these marginalized groups.

my issue lies in how, exactly, to both treat this topic respectfully and make the characters not feel out of place or unbalanced. i've considered several options, and was curious to hear from a physically disabled perspective how to proceed (i am mentally ill & neurodivergent, but to my knowledge not physically disabled).

option one: mention that disabled characters of all kinds are encouraged, and talk about roleplaying them or provide resources for how to handle them respectfully, but don't apply any specific rules with hard mechanics or numbers to them. this option is least likely to be inadvertently misconstrued or written poorly on my part, but may make disability feel like a "flavour" side note.

option two: provide examples for some common disabilities on the mechanical effects (such as a low vision character rolling less dice on rolls to notice visual details) without any "counteracting" mechanics. this one gives mechanical weight to disability, so it feels less like an afterthought, but may discourage people from playing disabled characters as they would be more likely to fail than other characters.

option three: the above, but with mechanical incentives for roleplaying in a way that acknowledges the character's disability. a "benefit", but less "giving a blind character echolocation" and more "gain XP for showing your characters disability and any aids they use" (similar mechanics exist for following your character's goals/personality traits). this would make disabled characters be more on par mechanically with other characters, but i fear it may come across as... viewing disabled characters as not worth it without some sort of benefit, i suppose?

apologies for the long rambling message, but i'd love to hear which of these options (or another suggestion) you'd be happiest to see in a game written by someone who isn't physically disabled! this is far from the focus of my game, but it's still an important part of the greater theme that i'd love to be able to get right. thanks! (similarly, if there are any groups not covered in the "underrepresented but common disabilities" post from your FAQ that you'd want to see in a game, i'd also be happy to hear those!)

Hello!

First things first, thank you so much for thinking about this! This isn't something that most TTRGs consider and, as a massive nerd who plays DND, Pathfinder, and other tabletop games, this has always been a big pet peeve of mine since making a disabled character is always unnecessarily hard to do with the game mechanics and rarely works out well.

Most of the time, I have to talk to my GM about how to make it work in their game and, unfortunately, I'm often told they won't allow it because it's "too much trouble".

This is all just to say, I really love the idea here and the fact that you're actually thinking about these things and wanting to do well by them is great!

Now, taking a look at the options:

Option One

One of the unfortunate things that I see a lot is people that are too scared to get something wrong with representation (Or social justice on a broader scale) that they don't try to do it at all. With this current era of cancel culture and people's reactions to what they deem 'offensive', it's understandable to be a bit apprehensive but if you're approaching the subject from a place of respect and you're receptive to learning and improving, most people will appreciate the effort.

While this option does sidestep the main issue you've identified, I do think it sidesteps the attempt at making disability part of your game as well. You can encourage people to make disabled characters all you want but without any real content for them in the game, it won't do much.

If you do go with this option, I'd strongly suggest including some information on the culture of your world and how it relates to disability, both to provide more substance to the content and to give players a bit to go off of when making a disabled character.

Option Two

I like this option much more than the first one, though I do agree that it may discourage people from choosing to play a disabled character.

Within the game mechanics, I think it makes a lot of sense to have these kinds of effects but I would encourage you to include more variety with it. Disability isn't 'one size fits all' and two disabled people can have different needs, strengths, and experiences -- even if they have the exact same disability. Instead, I'd suggest going for a slightly different model that includes more choices.

For example, a character with low vision may:

- Roll lower on perception checks involving vision

or

- Have disadvantage with ranged weapons/attacks

or

- Have lower rolls/less success in dim lighting

Do you see where I'm going with this?

Having more options for how the character's disability affects them allows players to make a choice for how they want to play the character while also encouraging them to think more about how their character's disability might affect them and impact their life.

The examples given are all reflections of how blindness can affect somebody. Blind spots or blurry vision can make it more difficult to notice certain visual changes, severe nearsightedness can make it difficult to aim/focus on things that are far away, night blindness can make it difficult to see in the dark or in dim lighting, etc. That being said, there are dozens of other ways to go about this (Though I'd advise sticking to five options per disability at most to avoid overwhelming people).

Option Three

Personally, I like this one and the second option the most. Although I understand where your concerns are coming from, it feels less like it's implying that disabled characters have to be 'worth it' and more like it's just balancing it out.

Like with the second option, I'd suggest going for more of a choice model here where the player can pick what 'benefit' (For lack of better word) that their character has -- or even to choose no benefit at all.

Many physically disabled people develop our own skills or tools to compensate for where we struggle, whether this is an intentional decision or just something that happens.

For example, my boyfriend is paralyzed from the waist down and uses a wheelchair full time. As a result, he has kick-ass upper body strength from it.

Similarly, many deaf and hard of hearing people are more observant when it comes to visual cues and many blind people are more sensitive to other senses (Though, of course, the whole 'super senses' thing is a myth).

While this isn't true of all disabilities or all disabled people in general, it is something worth considering.

That being said, if you do decide to implement this option, make sure that the benefit makes sense for the disability or is related in some way and isn't just something random being tacked on -- that would make it seem more like a 'disabled characters need to be worthwhile' thing.

As a few extra notes:

If you go with the second or third option, I'd suggest separating the different stat effects into different types of disabilities. You don't need to go too into specifics with it but something like 'low vision/blindness/vision loss', 'deafness/hearing loss', 'limited mobility', and 'chronic illness' would work. While disabilities are more nuanced than this in real life, setting it up this way would keep it pretty simple and allow players to tweak the mechanics slightly for their own characters.

If you go with the first option, I'd probably avoid discussing how to roleplay disabled characters. Because roleplay and character development is much more open than stats and game mechanics are, showing one or two 'proper' ways to play a disabled character is more likely to reinforce stereotypes, dismiss certain experiences that disabled people have, or just come across as more of a 'lecture' than anything. The same goes for including information on what to avoid. I'd stick to providing information about your world and how disabilities are seen in them instead of giving instructions here.

I'd suggest including ways for players to bypass the mechanics of disability if they'd like to, even if their character is disabled. That would allow for a bit more freedom with how they portray their character and would also ensure that they aren't being 'penalized' (For lack of a better term) with their stats for playing a disabled character. As a bit of an example of what I mean: A character in DND could have been a criminal growing up without necessarily taking the Criminal/Spy background.

In general, I think as long as you're approaching this respectfully (Which you are!) and reaching out to physically disabled people for their input (Which you are!), you don't have to worry too much about misrepresenting it.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You arrive home to your husband and a visual representation of how much he loves you. Your house is filled with treats to make you smile, and the attic has been ripped apart to start accommodating your new addition. The way Bradley loves you and the baby makes everything even more exciting. But as much as things are changing, they are also staying the same. 

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff, smut, oral sex

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

When you woke up, you were afraid you were still on the flight home to San Diego. You desperately wanted to stop throwing up. Your ribs were starting to ache from it, and your back was sore from hunching over the toilet. But the unique smell of a new car filled your nose as you opened your eyes, and you knew you were in the red Bronco. 

"Roo?" you groaned, reaching for him but accidentally hitting the vase full of flowers that was for some reason in the cup holder instead.

"We're home," he replied right away as he pulled into the driveway. "I'm with you, and we're home."

You whimpered in response as you saw the front window of the craftsman glowing with a cozy orange light. The week in Annapolis had been one of the longest of your life, but you were home. And Tramp was here, and so was your own bed and your bathtub.

Bradley knew you were crying again before you did, and he swiped at your tears as soon as he turned the engine off. "It's okay, Sweetheart. Let's go inside." You made some sort of pitiful sounding noise, and a few seconds later, Bradley was carrying you up to the porch. "I'll go back out for your stuff. Are you hungry? I think you should try to drink more ginger ale or maybe a seltzer or gatorade."

You just gasped as he took you inside; every surface was covered in unlit candles and yellow flowers. Even in just the soft glow from the lamp on the end table, everything looked exceptionally romantic. "Bradley." 

He kissed your cheek and continued toward the kitchen while Tramp followed along whimpering for you. But the kitchen was more of the same. Your husband must have gone grocery shopping without you, because there was a little box of pastries and different snacks and more flowers lining the counter. He set you down and held your face gently in his hands. "What can I get you to drink?"

Your lip quivered as you looked up into his brown eyes. "You made everything so romantic."

He sighed and kissed your forehead softly. Then his lips found your nose and then your cheek before ending up on yours. "What can I say, Baby Girl? I missed you. Both of you. A lot."

You thought back to the way you were begging for him and his cock when you talked to him on the phone, but right now you could barely stand up after the horrible flight home. "I don't think I can be romantic right now. I feel disgusting."

He smiled against your lips. "This is peak romance to me. Yeah, I was going to light some candles and feed you some snacks and let you take the lead, but all I really wanted all week was you. Here. At home. With me."

You kissed him deeply, and then let your cheek come to rest on his chest while your stomach churned softly. "I love it. The flowers are beautiful. And can you leave the candles out until tomorrow?"

He nodded and kissed your ear. "I won't put them away yet. Now can you tell me what you want to drink? I just want to dote on you and the nugget all weekend."

You smiled and whispered, "Gatorade." Next thing you knew, there were several chilled bottles lined up on the counter for you to choose from. Bradley opened the orange one and put the rest away, and then you saw the refrigerator door. He had hung up the ultrasound photos in the shape of a heart, and you couldn't stop smiling. He went to the pastry box and broke off part of a croissant and held it out for you to nibble on. When you nodded he fed you more until you shook your head.

Then he helped you into the shower, and it took almost no convincing to get him to join you. "I want you with me," you said, and he started taking his shirt off. A minute later, there was a discarded pile of clothing on the floor, but the two of you were under the steamy spray. You washed his hair for him even though your body felt physically exhausted, and he melted into your touch. "You really missed me, huh?" you joked softly.

His eyes were closed, and he grunted softly before he said, "I miss you when you go out to brunch while I play golf. I miss you when I don't see you for eight hours at work. I miss you when you spend seven hundred hours at Costco without me. But this week was unbearable, Sweetheart. Let's not do it again."

When he didn't even mention being deployed for weeks and weeks on end, you relaxed a little more. You pressed your lips together as his big hands settled on your belly. "The nugget is already calmer with you around," you informed him. "The baby definitely prefers you."

He kissed you and rinsed off all the soap and shampoo. "Yeah, well the nugget and I are about to have a conversation once we get in bed."

You brushed your teeth and removed your contacts, and Bradley already had his UVA shirt ready for you. A couple minutes later, you were in bed with your fingers tangled in his damp hair while he pushed the shirt up so he could kiss your belly. 

"What did I tell you about being nicer to Mommy?" His lips found your belly button, and his breath was warm on your skin as he said, "She's the best fucking thing in the world."

"Don't teach the baby bad words," you mumbled as you set your glasses aside.

He kissed along to your dainty rooster tattoo and traced it with the tip of his nose. "Nah, that's what Aunt Natasha is for," he said, and you giggled as he kissed you everywhere. 

"Roo?" you asked with a yawn.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"It's literally my favorite thing to do."

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

Bradley didn't realize just how poorly he had been sleeping until he ended up staying in bed with you until almost noon on Saturday, finally feeling refreshed. When you woke up and immediately reached for him, he scooped you up in his arms and rolled you onto your back. 

"I'm hungry," you whispered as your stomach started growling loudly while he kissed you.

"Hi, Hungry. I'm Bradley," he replied with a smirk as his fingers brushed along your belly.

Your eyes lit up with mirth as you gasped. "Oh my god! That was your first dad joke!"

He chuckled against your neck. "I'm going to be so fucking good at this shit."

"The nugget already likes you better," you whispered as he started to kiss his way down your chest over the shirt. Bradley paused with his hand tucked beneath the fabric, fingers stroking your side softly as he looked at you.

"You said that yesterday, too. I don't like it when you say that."

When you swallowed hard and turned your face away, you whispered, "I swear it's true."

"No," he said sharply. "This is just because the first trimester is filled with so many changes in your hormones. After the nugget is born, he or she is going to take one look at you and realize they have the most perfect Mommy. I've already written about it in my Nugget Notebook."

He nodded his chin toward the pink and blue notebook on his nightstand, and you asked, "What else did you write about?"

He hummed and pressed his lips to your rooster tattoo, earning a little squirm from you. "I wrote a little about Grandma Carole and Grampy Goose. I talked about how you and I met, and how I fell in love with you. I told the nugget I never really thought about having kids before I met their mommy."

"Roo," you sighed softly as he brushed his mustache along your soft skin, his cheek coming to rest on your hip.

Your stomach rumbled softly as he asked, "Want me to make you some peanut butter toast and some hot tea for breakfast?"

Slowly yet intentionally, you started to slide your legs apart along the fitted sheet where Bradley was laying halfway on top of them. He propped himself up and met your gaze as you said, "In a couple minutes."

He kissed your tattoo again as he tried not to grin. "Hmm. Anything you think you might want before that, Sweetheart?"

You bit your lip and turned your head to the side as he placed his palm on the top of your thigh. Bradley listened to the deep intake of your breath before you let it out slowly and asked, "Will you go down on me?"

He had his lips pressed to your pussy before you finished the sentence, both hands on the backs of your thighs as he spread your legs wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders. "Gorgeous," he whispered, his mustache feather light against your slick slit as you squirmed and whimpered his name, pressing yourself up for more. 

With a smile, Bradley parted you with his tongue, taking the time to remind you just how much he missed you. "Thought about you all week long, Baby Girl," he said after pulling your clit briefly between his lips. He plucked you a few more times as you moaned. "You're perfect," he promised, teasing your opening with his fingertip. "I missed you."

Then he took the time to taste every bit of you, his tongue swiping down to your ass as you begged him for more. He spread your wetness all over and when he made his way back up to focus on your clit, your fingers were in his hair. "I missed you, too," you managed before your voice broke softly as he sucked on you. "I was so horny all week, but nothing is as good as you."

Bradley smirked and sucked a little harder, leading you directly to your orgasm, showing you just how much better he was than your toys or your own hands. Reminding you that you'd never have it this good anywhere else. When you started to thrust against his face, he let his hands slide up to your waist. 

He waited until you were coming on his tongue and crying out before rubbing his nose along your clit and grunting, "I wanna fuck you."

You yanked so hard on his hair, he saw stars for a second, but he took your lead and kissed your mouth as he pushed his cock inside you. You were so wet and tight, he knew he'd only last a few thrusts, especially with the way you were squeezing him as your orgasm started to taper off. And then he was right there with you as you licked his mouth clean of your decadent taste and let your fingers snag in his messy hair. 

"Fuck," he grunted, driving into you with a few final thrusts before he filled you up with his cum. You looked so perfectly sated beneath him as you licked your own lips and gazed up at him.

When he stopped moving, his hips finally settling against yours, you looked a little bashful as you said, "I think I needed you before I needed breakfast." Your stomach was growling a little louder now, and Bradley knew he needed to get some toast in your belly to keep the baby happy. 

"Well," he rasped, "this was my breakfast, and I'll have it again for lunch and dinner if you let me." He slid away from you and stood next to your side of the bed, his head still a little fuzzy as he glanced down at his soft, glistening cock. With your legs still spread wide, he could see his cum working its way out of your tight pussy as you chewed on your lip dreamily. "Come on, Baby Girl," he crooned, reaching for you and guiding both of you into the kitchen. "I'll take care of all of your appetites."

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

You were practically shaking with happiness as you nibbled on a crunchy piece of toast slathered with a thick layer of peanut butter and sprinkled with chocolate chips. Your entire kitchen was decorated with the yellow flowers that Bradley got, and you noticed the refrigerator was randomly filled with steaks. 

"What's this for?" you asked him as he made himself some coffee. "It looks like you spend two hundred bucks on steaks?"

"I did," he confirmed, still completely naked from your activities a little while ago. "You really seemed to enjoy that dinner you had in Annapolis. I just thought you might want to try to replicate it here," he said a bit bashfully. "I mean, I could try to help you cook them if you want." You smiled, knowing full well he was more hesitant to admit he spent too much money on food that you'd have to cook for yourself than he was to parade around with nothing on.

"You're the best," you told him, tucking yourself against his chest and admiring the flowers on the island as he sipped his coffee. Then your gaze caught on a thin strip of drywall that was propped up next to the stairs. "Where did that come from?"

"Hmm?" Bradley hummed casually, his lips pressed to the top of your head.

"Is that drywall?"

"Oh. Uh... yes. I must have missed that piece when I was throwing all of it away."

You looked up at him, concern written on your face. "What do you mean by all of it?"

He kissed your nose a few times and said, "Now don't get upset, okay? It's not good for the nugget."

"Bradley."

He swallowed and said, "I got a little bored and anxious while the two of you were gone, and I kind of dismantled the attic."

"What?" You took off toward the stairs. When Bradley bought the Craftsman, you'd been with him every step of the way. You both looked at the house together, and you were there when he closed on it. He had his arm draped over your shoulders the first time he walked inside once he owned the place. You and he both knew the attic would eventually need an overhaul to grow from a sad little workspace into a usable bedroom or two. But now you were afraid to see what he did in your absence.

"Sweetheart, wait," he called out, wrapping his arms around you from behind before you could even put your foot on the first step. He kissed your cheek and said, "There could be a nail or something sharp on the floor that I missed when I cleaned up. Please, put some shoes on first."

You jammed your feet into your combat boots which were next to the front door, and Bradley did the same with his. Then he followed you upstairs, still in all of his naked glory, and watched you look around at the complete demolition job he did to the space. There was no flooring, no drywall, nothing.

"There used to be a half wall right here," you said, waving your arms. "I thought we were going to call a contractor."

"I did," he confirmed, standing there with his hands on his hips, kind of shrugging. "After I took everything down to the studs. But maybe they'll cut out some of the cost for the demolition since I already did it?" he muttered as his cheeks grew a little pink. "I just got excited about the idea of your parents having their own space when they visit, you know? And maybe one day, the nugget can have their bedroom up here. After they grow out of the nursery downstairs."

"Roo," you moaned, launching yourself into his arms. He welcomed you there as you whispered, "I'm sorry you were anxious enough while I was gone that you had the urge to completely dismantle the space up here." His sparse chest hair felt coarse against your face, but it was soothing to you anyway. "But I'm excited about this space. And I'm happy you called a contractor. And also, you look sinfully sexy in nothing but your boots, and I'm really horny again already."

"Oh," he rasped, and you could feel him reacting to you almost immediately. "Well, what do you know... so am I."

Then you and your husband had sex in the attic for the first time.

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

After a lovely steak dinner on Saturday night, which Bradley dutifully helped you make, you took a bath in your luxurious tub. He made sure the water wasn't too hot for the nugget, and then you lured him into the bath with you. All of the candles you'd noticed yesterday were now glowing, and a cluster of them had found their way to the bathroom counter. 

"I liked tonight's dinner a lot better than the one I had with Commander Patterson," you whispered as Bradley ran his soapy hands along your shoulders and kissed your ear.

"Trust me, Sweetheart, if I ever run into Derek, he's getting what he has coming to him."

You gasped. "How do you know his name is Derek?"

"I have my ways," he murmured, letting his fingers trail down along your body beneath the water. After you remained silent, wondering how on earth he had that information, he added, "You let it slip over the phone."

"Did I?" you asked. But you shouldn't have been too surprised. You kept forgetting little things here and there. Your hormones were hitting you hard in a variety of ways, and you'd just about had enough of it. 

"Mmhmm. If he ever comes to Top Gun, it's on."

You knew he was at least partially serious, so you didn't bring it up again. Instead, you let Bradley pull you out of the tub when you started to shiver, and he helped you get ready for bed. "I didn't throw up once today," you said with a smile as you curled up with your cheek on his chest. "The nugget always behaves when you're around."

Bradley kissed the top of your head and cradled your body against his. "If the nugget doesn't start to shape up, I'll have a little discussion with him or her." 

Just as he reached for the lamp on his nightstand, you asked him softly, "Will you read a little bit to me from the Nugget Notebook?"

You weren't sure if his musings were even really meant for you, but he agreed and picked up the pink and blue notebook from next to the bed, leaving the light on in the process. Bradley cleared his throat and started to read. His written words were enough to make you melt, and the deep rasp of his voice comforted you like nothing else could. 

"I hate to break it to you, little nugget, but you're related to some of the coolest people I ever met in my life. Sounds great, doesn't it? I suppose it is. The only downside is the fact that you won't get to meet them for yourself. But that's where I come in, so don't worry about it too much. 

Let's start with your Grandma Carole. Now she had a real talent for always knowing how to cheer people up. Even when she was having a hard day herself, she still saved a smile and a kiss just for me. She was one of the sweetest people around. She was smart, funny and honest, too. But I think if there's one thing of hers that I'd like to pass down to you, it would be Carole's sweetness.

Next we have your Grampy Goose. Don't worry, his name wasn't really Goose. It was Nick. Now this is going to be a little harder for me to write about, simply because I didn't get very much time with him myself, but I know for a fact that Goose could bring a smile to even the most serious faces."

You dozed off, dreaming about a world in which you got to meet your husband's parents. Where you could take your child to spend time with them. Get to know them without visiting the cemetery in Virginia. 

When you woke up, it was to the sound of your alarm while Bradley had you wrapped up with his long arms and his legs. "Roo," you muttered, but he held on.

"Don't want you to go to brunch," he whispered. "Stay in bed."

Goosebumps rose along your arms as you thought about spending the entire day snuggled up with him like this. "I need to go see Cam and Maria," you mumbled. Your stomach growled so you added, "And eat avocado toast."

Bradley groaned and rolled away from you. "At least you're hungry. Go have fun with your friends."

"Do you want me to bring anything back for you?"

He snorted as you climbed out of bed. "Yeah. You and the nugget. ASAP."

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "God, you're sweet. Just like Carole. The nugget will inherit that trait, too."

You watched your husband blush as he snuggled under the blanket and tracked you with his eyes as you got ready to go out. Your stomach was feeling pretty good, but you knew you were tempting fate if you decided to wait to eat something at the restaurant. You made yourself a piece of toast and finished it before you climbed into your red Bronco and headed out to your usual spot while Bradley lounged in bed.

After you parked, you saw some texts from Jake asking how you were feeling and also asking if you and Bradley could watch Jeremiah one night. That sounded like a good sign that things had worked out okay between him and Uncle Bernie. When you saw Cat at work tomorrow, that would be the first thing you asked her, but for now you typed back to Jake. You didn't think Bradley would mind if you agreed to watch Jer. Frankly, the two of you could use the practice.

"Hey!" Cam called out as soon as you walked inside. "Hurry up, I'm starving."

You rolled your eyes as you made your way over to the table and scooted into the seat next to him. "You're always hungry," you mumbled as he handed you a menu even though you both knew exactly what you'd be ordering. "Where's Maria?"

"Late," Cam grumbled. "If she brings Bob with her again, I'll be so annoyed. I need a hot aviator in my life."

And that's when you saw her through the side window. You smacked Cam's bicep and silently pointed to where Maria was standing out on the sidewalk, snaking her arm up around Bob's neck. They were talking. They were just talking. Until they weren't. Bob leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. Then it was over, and you were kind of shocked as Maria made her way inside the restaurant. 

"They're fucking," Cam whispered harshly, smacking your thigh repeatedly under the table as she made her way over like absoltuely nothing just happened out on the sidewalk.

"I can't believe they are hooking up," you hissed, grabbing his hand and shoving it back to his lap just as Maria strolled over to the table.

"Morning," she practically sang. "How was Annapolis?"

"I went to Waffle House," you blurted out like a weirdo. "And a cemetery."

She laughed and picked up her menu. "I was more interested in how your presentation went, but I do love a good Waffle House breakfast."

You and Cam were both silent for a few beats before he quickly and loudly asked, "How long have you been fucking Bob?"

She was looking back and forth between the two of you with her mouth hanging open. "Well... listen... it's not my fault he's so funny and sweet and smells so good!"

That was proof enough for you, but she was practically gushing with details, and you couldn't wait to get home and tell Bradley.

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

"Maria and Bob are sleeping together! In the same bed! And having sex!" you announced as soon as you walked in the front door. "Oh, and Cam and Maria say hi."

Bradley looked up from the notebook where he was sitting on the couch and said, "Yeah, I forgot to tell you about that."

"How did you know?"

As you settled on the couch with your head resting on his thigh, Bradley let his hand come up to your belly. "I ran into Bob one morning last week, and it couldn't have been more obvious, Baby Girl."

You yawned and snuggled in. "You should have told me," you scolded softly. "I saw them kissing. It was the sweetest thing in the world."

Bradley stroked your soft skin as you started to doze. "Nah. You're the sweetest thing in the world." A smile curled along your lips as he juggled the Nugget Notebook to his other thigh and continued to write, this time about how much he loved you.

He let you sleep until you woke on your own and suggested the two of you take a beach walk with Tramp. You were gorgeous, practically glowing in the August sunlight, and that's when Bradley realized it was two years ago almost to the day since the first time he saw you. Since he met the woman who changed his life. You were currently talking about work as you held his hand and smiled as you pulled him along the sand, but he dug his heels in until you came to a stop.

"Roo?" you asked, looking up at him as Tramp pulled on the leash in his other hand. 

Two years. He'd spent over a dozen years before that going through the same routine every day but essentially gaining nothing in the process. Work and women and hitting the bar. Shit. Then you had him tearing his life down to the studs just like the attic the first time he laid eyes on you. All he wanted to do was make himself good enough so you'd keep looking at him and smiling at him just like you were right now.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching up to touch the scars on his cheek. Your hand was gentle and soft, and he covered it with his own so you'd keep it right where it was. He had a family again. Something he'd given up on until he met you, but then you made impossible things seem possible again. You loved him in spite of himself, or maybe because of himself. You took the loneliness away.

"Nothing's wrong, Sweetheart," he promised, mesmerized by the sunlight on your face. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you. Of course that's when you pulled your hand free from his cheek, made a miserable face and ran for the trash can at the beach path entrance. Bradley rubbed your back as you threw up and moaned about how much the nugget didn't like avocados. 

Then he took you home and attempted to replicate the steak dinner again after you took another nap. He thought he did a pretty decent job with minimal help. The two of you shared a plate, and you sat on his lap while Tramp begged for some scraps. "You ready to go back to work tomorrow?" he asked as you ate some garlic mashed potatoes that weren't quite as creamy as when you made them.

"No," you groaned. "I just want to sleep. But I'm sure Bickel will want to meet so we can fill him in on everything from Annapolis."

He kissed your cheek and whispered, "Maybe we can drive in together tomorrow? Just to spend a little extra time together in the morning?"

You dropped your fork and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You're so sweet, Roo. I can't handle it right now when I'm this horny!"

His eyes went wide as you reached for the front of his shorts. "Holy hell," he groaned, setting his own fork down as you touched him. "I might have to visit you at lunchtime tomorrow, yeah?"

"Please," you whined, your voice just making him harder. 

Bradley would never get enough of you. The fact that you demanded a quickie during dinner before returning to your food made his head spin. The fact that you sat on the piano bench with him when you were both done eating while he played a few songs for the nugget made him smile. The fact that you and he were going to be parents left him breathless. 

The ride to work in the red Bronco the next morning consisted of some serious hand holding while you drank a can of ginger ale while he drove. "I can't wait for the next appointment with Dr. Morris," he whispered as he kissed your knuckles. "I want some more ultrasound photos."

You laughed as you looked up at both visors which were practically covered with the little baby pictures. "You didn't get enough last time?"

"We need more," he said firmly. "We can tell your parents pretty soon, and then we can tell everyone else. I want to hand the photos out like cigars."

You were still laughing as he parked in the garage on base, and you walked into the building holding hands. He had fifteen minutes until his work hours technically started, and he didn't really care who saw. Bradley kissed you next to the elevators with everything he had, letting you taste his mouth while he worshipped yours. "Go wow Bickel, Baby Girl. I'll come find you at lunchtime, okay?"

You nodded, and Bradley patted your ass as you finally got in the elevator to take you up to your lab. On the way to the locker room, he ran into Jake and Cat who appeared to be doing what you and he had been doing by the elevators. Bradley tried to sneak quietly past, but Cat saw him and pulled away from Jake who whined in response. 

"Morning," Cat said to Bradley as she walked away from Jake with a satisfied little smile. 

"Wow," Jake drawled as he watched her disappear around the corner. "Thanks for ruining the best part of my day, Bradshaw."

He chuckled as Jake followed him into the locker room. "It's not like you won't see her later."

"I won't," Jake whined. "Not alone anyway. She and I are taking Jeremiah to the movies with Hondo."

Bradley pulled a clean flight suit from this locker and started to get undressed. "So things went well between you and Uncle Bernie last week?"

Jake hummed as he yanked his own shirt off. "You could say that. We've come to a bit of an understanding. I understand that he's protective of Cat, and he understands that I'm not fucking going anywhere."

Bradley thought back to just a few months ago when Hondo was running Jake ragged with countless push ups and sprints. "Next thing I know, you'll be asking her and Jeremiah to move in with you."

"Oh, I already did that," Jake replied easily as he zipped his flight suit over his undershirt. "Yesterday."

Bradley stood there in his compression shorts and tank top. "And?" he asked, gesturing for more information. He loved being on the cutting edge of these things ahead of you, and he knew for a fact that Cat was like a steel trap in comparison to loose-lipped Jake. 

Jake shrugged with some annoyance on his face. "She said it's too soon. Then she told me how much she loves me. Then she gave me a blowjob. And now this morning she's making out with me like she can't stand to be apart. So... I don't really know what's up. But I've got plenty of space for both of them at my place, unlike at Hondo's." 

When Jake slammed his locker door, Bradley felt apologetic for putting a damper on his good mood. "You haven't been together for very long," he said cautiously. 

Jake rolled his eyes as he sat to put his boots on. "Longer than you and Angel were together before you bought her a house."

Oof. He was actually right about that one. "Yeah, but there's a kid involved, you know?"

Jake stood and smirked. "You've got one of those now, too."

Bradley looked around with wide eyes. "Keep it fucking quiet," he hissed, but Jake just laughed. 

"The only person with razor sharp hearing is Nat, and if she can hear me all the way from the ladies' room, then good for her," he replied. "See you in the hangar."

Bradley stood there for a few extra seconds in silence before finally pulling on his flight suit. Then he dug around in his locker until he found the ultrasound picture he'd tucked away and gave it a little kiss. The last thing he did before locking everything away was send you a text.

I already miss you. We should have just stayed in bed.

And then he was off to start another week up in the air. He got to the hangar before he ran into anyone else, and he already had his helmet in his hands when Maverick found him and gave him an envelope. Bradley took one look at the raised seal, and his heart plummeted to his feet. 

"No," he rasped, his dark eyes meeting those of his dad's best friend who just nodded at him before apologizing and walking away. "Fuck!" Bradley practically shouted before dropping his helmet to the ground and raking his fingers through his hair. He vaguely made out Nat's voice as he started to rip into the envelope with a level of fury he never felt before, because he never had both a wife and a baby on the way before. 

He skimmed the page before crumpling the paper in his fist and stared at the ground. His breaths were coming quick and shallow. His skin was crawling. He picked his helmet up and made his way toward his Super Hornet without a glance back toward the buildings.

When he eventually found you in your office at lunchtime, he had to watch your smile slowly fade away only to be replaced by sobs and tear filled eyes. 

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

That's a wrap on this series!! Omg, what a ride these two went on! I have a feeling the next one will be even wilder. Please stay tuned for some one-shots featuring Roo, Baby Girl, and the nugget. Then we will pick up later in her pregnancy with a brand new series!!!!! Thanks for all the love, reblogs and comments. They brighten my day and keep me motivated. Big thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[genderfluid-culture-iss]

Black genderfluid culture is looking up for representation and being like: “Why are you white? Where's my representativity, WHERE'S THE MFS THAT REPRESENT MY TRANSITION GOALS???”

I'm dead serious, the amount of times I looked for androgynous people for a lil reference (I need some visualization, long story short I'm using subliminals to get rid of gender dysphoria) and only white and sometimes east asian people popped up makes me mad because: Yo, why only the white enbies get their reference and representation? Why not me? Hm??

And that makes me feral, because the most queer representation, specially trans representation, we see is white. All white people, and that's infuriating because people of colour, trans women of colour, more specific, were a huge, HUGE, part of queer history, and y'all decide to simply ignore our voices? Really nigga? 🤨

Taking this opportunity on this black history month, I wanted to make a highly important request: Dear lgbtqia+ community: PLEASE HEAR COLOURED QUEER VOICES.

Sorry for the rant, I need to get that out. =3

no no you get it.

im white but we don’t talk about that lmao

in the past, A LOT of black folks did a LOT for this community. The fact that the face of the community is now a gay, cis, skinny white guy FUCKING SUCKS!

William Dorsey Swann and Marsha P. Johnson are just two of the names that SHOULD BE TALKED ABOUT MORE!

Please, support your POC girlies! (gender-neutral) This is such a big issue in the LGBTQ community and many others! And you’re right, there really aren’t ANY references for black LGBTQ people.

If anyone has any resources/photos or anything you’d like to share regarding this, please do!!

I’m also passionate about this if you couldn’t tell LMAO