Y'all need to be fucking nicer to men/masc queers
I was talking to an old friend/short lived boyfriend from highschool and the topic of sexualities came up. He identified as bisexual throughout highschool but told me that recently he doesn't know what he was and just preferred to remain 'unlabeled' until he figured it out. I told him to his face "thats valid man and being unlabeled doesn't make you any less queer than when you were labeled"
God you should've seen his fucking face, he looked so happy and also like he was about to goddamn cry. He told me that no one ever told him that. That he tried to join queer spaces but they said he didn't fit in cause he wasn't 'gay' enough. Told me that I was the first person to ever confidently tell him he was queer and that he didn't need to change himself to 'fit in'.
I gave my friend one of my mini pride flags I had lying around and the dopey grin he had on his face while waving that thing around for the rest of the night made me smile too. When he finally went home he thanked me for the flag and for reassuring him when he felt insecure for 'not being gay enough'.
I want y'all to know that whole time he telling me about people not accepting him for "not looking queer" made me fucking pissed. Oh, because he's not petite, feminine, and white he can't be queer? Because he doesn't look like a fashionable and conventionally pretty gay on you'd find on your TikTok homepage he can't be queer?
THIS ISN'T EVEN THE FIRST TIME I'VE HAD THIS CONVERSATION WITH A FRIEND BEFORE
In highschool I had ANOTHER friend who had this same problem but in a different font. He liked cute things, he liked flowing fabrics and skirts, he even liked being called princess! But because he was fat and not conventionally attractive he felt like he couldn't be queer. Because from what he saw, queer people don't look like him.
If you're one of those people who would gatekeep ANYONE who doesn't fit into your Pinterest board ideal version of queer from the LGBTQ+ community, you can fuck right off because anyone who would just shut of someone out of our community for something so petty and dumb and ignorant doesn't deserve the keys to the fucking door in the first place.
Start treating people who don't fit into your saturated and commercialized view of queer with more respect and kindness before I start biting off your fucking arms
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I cant take this anymore. Take him. I don’t have a name for him nor for the others but I love them all. I’ve explained a bit for Age’s dad’s personality and his story. I’m gonna talk about a certain battle from AOC so spoiler warning for that. It’s not connected to the story at all but just in case
There’s this battle called “a Knight’s nightmare” or something like that, and you basically have to go rescue Link who is trapped in a small area completely surrounded by guardians. It’s actually a quite challenging battle if you’re unaware of what’s happening cuz Link’s health goes down VERY quickly. It’s a sad battle really cuz it’s implied that Link is terrified of guardians and being surrounded by them, and in botw, that’s essentially how he died. Anyways I miiiight have this battle happen with his dad involved, but it gets so bad that his dad ends up losing his arm. This is after the calamity, but he loses his ranking and is pushed to retire, living in Hateno with his wife and daughter again. He doesn’t have that much time to be with Link unfortunately since Link is doing heroic work, but at least he can see his daughter more often.
His dad is a very positive man, a guy who tried to be positive even when things are bad. He’s a glass half full kinda guy, but losing his arm was very hard on him since he is an active person and gets stir crazy really easily. Out of stubbornness he does learn how to do most of his activities with just one arm. He shield surfs at mount Hylia a lot, learned how to use his sword with one arm, and a whole lot other things. It helped with him being forced to stay home, but he does miss the traveling and the action. Tho he’s just happy to spend time with his family, he only wishes that Link could be there more often.
He was also close with the other bodyguard of the king. There were two in AOC who were with Rhoam all the time tho I don’t remember what they look like lol, but I think he grew close with his partner. I’m sure he misses the talks they used to have. Rhoam is a very strict and serious man so I doubt he was super close with the king, but he was close enough to have some pleasant conversations. But the looming calamity stifled a lot of friendly conversations
Also when I was designing him, I always had Leon’s facial hair in my mind, so you know that Linebeck is gonna confuse the two of them SO much. The biggest difference tho is that they’re almost a foot apart in height (Leon is almost 6’ while this guy is around 5’-5’2) I guess the missing arm and chipped ear are good differences as well lol
Sorry for the rambling it is late and I can’t stand not rambling at times so take this dbsksbksb
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CW: Graphic depictions of violence, lots of Death and Gore, Psychological horror for like 3 lines, mentions of drowning. Please read the tags and take caution. This one's more than a little visceral.
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The King is here.
You walk through crowded halls of rushing Housemaidens getting into defensive positioning. It's like fighting a wave in the ocean, hard to push through the crowd. You make do anyways, curling through paths you normally wouldn't take.
It's a big deal to everyone but you, at this point. This is the big event, the big fight; to you it's simply where time loops back. Just another day, y'know? You've done it over and over, and you'll probably keep doing it anyways.
It's odd, pushing through the crowd. Everyone is going one way and you are going another. Rushing versus strolling. Your hands are in the pockets of your lab coat. You're practically whistling, for crab's sake!
You simply cannot be bothered this loop. It's a failure from the start: you crabbed up making the bomb, which means you're crabbed from the very beginning. You climbed up the Favor Tree and wedged yourself between the braches for a few hours to pass the time, because looping back would be too much of an inconvenience, and you could just wait until the tears started spawning in the house to go back. The birds had a good time at least, one starting to craft a nest next to you.
You ghosted throughout the day, and now its go time. Everyone else is prepared and ready to fight for time itself, and here you are just. Walking. Realistically you're searching for a tear to stop it all before it starts, but luck isn't on your side this loop.
You can hear it, hear it-- the horrors. All the screams of those unfortunate enough to cross the King's path and fight back. It would be easier, for them, to just bow back and let themselves be frozen-- but no one wants to be frozen, because that's having choice itself stolen from you, a cage of ice to lock yourself in forever. It's just as bad as being dead. Stagnant and eternally screaming.
So they march to their deaths.
The King does not take kindly to the Housemaidens fighting back. Some loops, the House isn't prepared for his attack. Those loops are the nice ones, the less gorey ones. Less dead and more frozen bodies, because no one was prepared to brawl with the monster. He can just... swoop on through and take the House without more than a handful of casualties. This loop is one of the bad ones, because your fellow housemaidens were all prepared. You always think your prepared, too, to see the outcome, but you never truly are.
You turn into the main hall, and freeze still.
No matter how many loops you go through, the carnage always gets to you. There's a nasty, overpowering smell of iron in the air and big dark stains painting the walls, the floors and the roof. Bits and pieces of mashed guts and viscera. There were people in this hallway, once.
Not anymore.
It makes you sick to your stomach like every other time. Just the thought of it. There were people here and now there's only parts of them left. Just ten minutes ago or so, there were people here.
There were people here.
The gore goes in a trail down the hall. Paints practically everything-- including frozen people, if you look down the hall. All frozen with shock and absolute horror on their faces. You recognize some of them.
You try not to think about it.
You push on. Try to ignore the way the blood seeps into your shoes very fabric so they become damp. Try to ignore the fact you're trailing someone's very life behind you now with bloody shoe prints.
There are still no tears.
Plan B, then. The King himself.
You hate going against the King. It always ends terribly with you in agony. But that's the only option left right now, so you chase him down on his little path carved from the blood of the innocent. You find him quickly, too- just down the hall.
He stops before you can get too close. The smell in the air is overpowering, the sharp tang of blood and the burning sensation of the sugar.
"Burning one." He says to you. You're not sure where he pulled that one from: the nickname was something different at some point, but you've long forgotten what it was. Maybe it's the smell of burnt, rotting sugar or maybe it's the potions that burnt your throat. You're not sure anymore.
He just... stands there. Turns around and looks at you. You can feel the dead expression you're pulling as you stare back. Blood glints on his armor, shining and the worst sight in the world and all the same kinda beautiful in its own way? Like the lightless gore is the night sky itself, sparkling with little dots. Makes you feel sick just thinking that.
"How have you done it?" He asks. He asks it every time the two of you face off, the same five words. How. A inquiry. Something you have done, you shouldn't have, and he knows it.
You... think you've gotten it, now. Your hypothesis: How you wished. It's not something you were supposed to do. You did something different something WRONG, and it did something to time itself, tearing a hole in the fabric of space. It's wrong. It's wrong, and you know it and so does the King.
He stares in your direction. You think? Despite his hands, blood-stained as they are, not being infront of his face, the mop of hair is still in the way. You can feel the glare still. Enraged. Daggers in your side.
"I don't know." It's the truth.
"You don't know?"
"I don't remember."
The King goes silent. It's odd, having an actual conversation with him. Even if it was a tiny exchange, it still throws you off. He's willing to talk, even if just a question. He's never really talked to you-- or anyone, to your knowledge-- before.
"Ouuuuhhhh... of course you don't." He wails. It sounds like nails on a chalkboard to you. "You shouldn't have been able too, oohhh... not at all..."
He raises a fist up. It sparkles like the night sky, dark dripping from between his fingers. There's still someone's remains painted on them. Preemptively you brace and throw your arms up in an attempt to block.
It's a different thing that hits you. A new attack. A giant open palm slams into your chest, and you go flying backwards into the wall. The world turns to slow motion as something in you SNAPS. Crunches. Your bones shatter and explode with the force and speed, shooting little shards of agony everywhere.
It hurts. It HURTS. Pain rips through your entire body, and you realise you've started to scream when your chest begins to hurt. Blood splatters onto your glasses, blotting out your vision.
You look up at the King. How'd you get on the floor? How are you breathing, with no lungs? You can see fragments of bone stuck between the metal of his armor.
"Let this be a lesson to you, Burning one."
Metal clinks, and your vision swims-- dots in the corners, figures blur. Blood drips down into your left eye and paints half of your vision a dark shade. Nothing but pain.
Make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop make it stop-- it hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts.
You
Simply stop thinking. Just for a moment.
So your brain can catch up! Yeah, sure. That's a good enough excuse.
Just. Pain. You are pain incarnate, and that's all you will be until you die slowly and loop back.
You
Blink,, and
The King. Is gone. You can hear him leaving, loud stomping footsteps dissapearing down a bloodstained trail, and you just stare.
How lucky, HOW LUCKY of you to be left alive this time. Like this isn't a fate worse than death. You gasp for air, and realise all you have left is blood filling your lungs.
It hurts. You want it to end, now. It's hard to see, over the blood and spots dancing across your eyes, but you see them; tears, floating around you. A quick out. You reach out, and the pain in you flares alive, ripping and tearing you apart. You feel like your flesh is going to peel off.
Your fingers brush into one of the tears, and you sob as the ice rolls down your arm and consumes you. It feels a hundred times better than what you were feeling before.
You freeze in time-- and luckily theres no nightmare you have to endure, you just wake back up at your desk. You spend a good chunk of the morning curled up in the bathroom getting sick, because, wow! That's the worst one yet! It's curled into your very being, the feeling of breaking your bones like rock candy, the feeling of drowning in blood.
You just... have to do it better this time, or... something. Hope is fading away into background static. You can't... do this anymore. It hurts too much. You want it to stop. Please make it stop.
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