#i feel this comes from fan fiction where it usually only feels natural if a fan fic of a first-person book

[thegirlwholied]

not to have a grudge against all books written in a certain POV but first-person alternating, we meet again, my beloathed

[mommageto]

Domestic Hashira: Part 2 (Himejima x Reader)

Title: Domestic Hashira: Part 2 (Himejima x Reader)

Word Count:  1817  words

Description: (Y/n) and Gyomei navigating the unfamiliar territory of an arranged marriage. 

Warning/s: This fan fiction may contain disturbing or implied sexual content that may not be suitable or sensitive for readers. Read at your own risk. 

Part 1

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

The sun is veiled by haze, and the sound of bushes dancing as the freezing breeze passes by. You were sitting on a rock beside a river that flows from the feeble waterfalls. It was one of those walks you enjoy taking with Himejima when neither of you was occupied with any activity on that day. The walk you always have with him to enjoy the nature surrounding you always ends up with interesting conversations to get to know each other better. 

As newlyweds, it seemed too far to build a relationship with a man you barely knew in the beginning. Nevertheless, you both had a mutual apprehension about starting over. Throughout the days, you and Himejima opened up to one another, starting with both your pasts, where you found comfort in each other. 

“I couldn’t accept all of the things that happened that day. My parents were everything to me. It was difficult to lose both of them. I miss them so much,” you said to Himejima while looking down on the stream of water passing through your feet. With your words, Gyomei turned to you and gently placed his large hands on your head. He rubbed your head tenderly. “(Y/n), your parents loved you deeply. They may not be here, but their memory lives on in you,” he replied.

Himejima’s words of affirmation have always filled your recent days with delight and a sense of security. There is something about his use of words that tells you it is exactly what you need to hear. That healed a part of you and allowed you to look forward to your future with clarity. Gyomei’s line of work may be risky, but you have faith in him. 

Gyomei informed you that he will be away for a week for a mission on a farther land south, where there were incidents of demons attacking a huge village. This is the part of your relationship that you dislike the least. It is not because of how he is constantly putting his life on hold, but because of the loneliness that comes with his absence that you have to endure.

To doubt his skills is merely an act of foolery. Himejima always trained with relentless determination. He is committed to every single thing he does, from his training to his relationship with you. Himejima ensures that he is trying his best, if not becoming better. This is a part of him that makes you admire him even more. 

As you’ve accomplished your social duties as a wife, you went straight home. This was the day Himejima ought to arrive. Nothing but the pure longing to reach out and be in your husband's arms is what you desire. With such haste, you went to the training area by your house. Himejima frequently goes to the training area. This is how he usually finds consolation to meditate after a long mission. There he was standing on his feet, and you approached the giant man from behind. 

Gyomei, a subtle shift in his massive form, tells you he knows you're there around the place. Even before you and Himejima became closer, he never failed to sense whenever you were around. He surely did possess quality senses, and they were useful in his relationship with you. The stone hashira has put his boulder to a halt and turned to greet you. 

With you closer to him, he pulled you in for a warm and delicate embrace. You can feel the tears in his eyes falling down. “I’ve missed you so much,” you whisper in his ear. His arms tightened around you, offering a comforting warmth against the chill of the evening. For a moment, there were only the two of you in an intimate embrace, leaving only the soft rhythm of your heartbeats echoing in the quiet space between you.

 As you slowly move away from Gyomei’s grasp, you look up to him and see a delicate smile painted on his face. This offers you a bundle of joy. His hand cups your face to feel your being. “I’m so glad to be back home with you,” he says. You leaned on his hand and rubbed it. You never fail to appreciate the physical love you share with Gyomei.

“I apologize for having kept you waiting.”

“No, you don’t have to. I’m just happy you’re here with me now.”

“That reminds me,” he says. With a small pause, he pulled out a rectangle-shaped box from his pocket and gave it to you. “I got you something while I was away,” he continued. You opened the gift to see a sakura kanzashi. Your eyes lit up at how mesmerizing it was.

The smile on your face has doubled from what it was a while ago. You simply cannot help but be flattered by his gift. “I thought you were just the strongest and biggest Hashira there is,” you teased him. “You never told me that you’re also the sweetest Hashira.” 

A gentle chuckle escaped his lips. “I may be a hashira, but I am your husband too.”

You loved every moment you shared with Gyomei. It didn’t take long for your relationship with Himejima to flourish. Both of you were well respected by everyone in the Demon Slayer Corps. With your lineage as a relative of Kagaya Ubuyashiki and Gyomei’s position as the leader of the hashira, people tend to be attentive whenever you and your husband are both around. The other people thought you were a beloved couple. 

After you had dinner with Himejima, he held your hand on the way to your shared bedroom. The night was still young, and both of you decided to cozy up before sleeping together. This is something you enjoy with Gyomei during the night. He's lying at your back, and you're in his arms, watching the moon’s watchful gaze from your window. The size difference between both of you has made you feel like a stuffed toy for him. Himejima does not like to admit it, but he loves your size. He perceives you as a fragile being for him to forever protect and hold. 

“Are you comfortable enough, (y/n)? ”He asks you. You turned your head at him and nodded in response, only for him to plant a kiss on your forehead afterwards. The way his lips filled your forehead made you feel the love of Gyomei’s physical affection. 

It didn’t take long for you to face him and start kissing his cheeks one by one after another. Himejima could feel your kisses all over his face. Until you reached his lips, this caused him to be surprised and stare at you for a while. The eye contact you both had was full of tension until you both gave in to the pleasure of kissing each other on the lips. 

Your body was leaning at Himejima’s huge form with arms wrapped around his being, and you could feel the heat of his body pressing into you. His arms moved down from your hair, slowly reaching to your waist, feeling the moment he shared with you. It didn’t take long for your hands to feel his hard and muscular form, moving your hands from his shoulder to his biceps. You can feel Gyomei’s hands tighten his grip while holding your waist. This encouraged you to explore more of his built form with your hands while not holding back from the intimate union of both of your lips. 

Every part of him is bulky and strong; you can appreciate Himejima’s athletic physique as you continue caressing his body. Despite his large, hard chest, you felt the fast beat of his heart’s palpitation. As you were in the moment, you felt greedy for Himejima. You wanted more of him, and you needed more of Gyomei. Your left hand was supposed to feel his abdomen, but it dropped between his legs, where you felt the heat of his hot and large manhood. 

Himejima pushed you away. It took a moment for you to catch your breath. The tension, the heat, and the feeling were there, but Gyomei stopped them. For a while, you felt the feeling of embarrassment creep up from your head to your toe. ‘Was I pushing myself onto him? ’ you thought to yourself. 

This made you feel uneasy. For a woman, it is unlikely for this to happen or for you to feel this way. Numerous thoughts filled your head, and you questioned why Himejima stopped. He is your husband, and you have undergone the sacred act of marriage; you didn’t understand how it felt wrong. Not only that, it seems to you that Gyomei doesn’t feel as ‘attracted’ to you as you thought.

“(Y/n)—“ he uttered, but the embarrassment you felt made you not want to face your husband. 

The night felt like your first day; it was silent, and not much conversation was involved, which was different from how you fixed it to be. It also felt like a long night, as you could not put yourself to sleep. However, it felt like the stone hashira did not get to rest peacefully either. As you’ve noticed, Gyomei does not sleep silently. He has a deep, rumbling snore, and that is something you have observed after several nights of sleeping beside him.

The next morning, you can hear the morning chirps of the birds, and the sun rays hit a part of your room. Your eyes slowly opened to wake you up. Your hand reached out to your side to find the familiar being you sleep with. Himejima’s presence beside you was nowhere to be seen as you opened both your eyes. You sat down to collect yourself and saw his bed area fixed already. Thus, your brain recollects the memory of last night. You were hoping for that night to be just a nightmare. 

It was still too early in the morning. The thought of where your husband is is bothering you. ‘Did he leave for a mission?’ you pondered. You walked around your house to search for him. You peeked at the training area by your house, where Himejima usually does his morning meditation and training. There was no sign of him there. 

“My lady, are you looking for Himejima-sama?”You were startled by the voice of your older servant, Yoko. “Himejima-sama woke up early to train near the waterfall.”

It didn’t take long for you to go there and watch your husband do intense training. You can only watch from afar, as you do not want to talk to Himejima for now. The view of the stone hashira withstanding the pressure from the waterfall. With the time you spent knowing your husband, he only does intense training when he’s stressed after a battle where he could’ve saved many lives. However, to your knowledge, something like that did not happen previously.

This story has a Part 3.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Interested in Writing But Can't Seem to Write

Anonymous asked: I've been interested in writing since I was a child. Used to be a bookworm. Whole chapter books in one night, completely addicted as a form of escapism. My first real dream job was to be an author - I decided this at around 11 maybe. No matter how many phases I've had, I always return to wanting to be an author. I am 22 now. I have not written a single thing. I vaguely remember writing like, maybe 3 things at most. Incomplete works that I just had fun with. And this was before I even turned 14. But in all those years of "loving writing and books" and "wanting to be an author" I did straight up nothing. Didn't even contribute to fanfics for the fandoms I was deeply obsessed with (I do remember trying once but wasn't into it). At some point reading was out of my life too.

I'm going to start here, because of these conflicting statements:

-- "I have not written a single thing." -- "I vaguely remember writing like, maybe 3 things at most."

See the issue? ;) If you've written "maybe 3 things" you have written something. They may have been incomplete, and you may not even remember what you were, but that doesn't mean you should discount them. You have written. That experience is still in there somewhere.

One of my biggest pet peeves as a longtime writer is hearing newer writers refer to themselves as "aspiring writers." If you write, you're a writer. Period. It doesn't matter if you journal, write poetry, write fan-fiction, or wrote a middle-school round robin with friends where you all married your favorite K-Pop stars. You write. You're a writer. And, honestly, even if you're not actively writing right now, if you want to write--if you think about writing, are constantly jotting down story ideas and character names, and are eagerly gathering inspiration from all around you... guess what? You're still a writer.

Now I'm trying to take my interest in writing more seriously, but I just can't sit down and write. I'm good at storing notes and ideas and daydreaming what my stories are about, but nothing is ever produced. If I think about it I immediately lose interest - even if I am in fact still interested in writing and publishing? I'm very confused by my behaviour and I wonder if it's normal.

What you're experiencing isn't unusual. In fact, most writers experience it from time to time, though usually it happens at points further into the writing journey and not right at the start. But I still wouldn't call that "abnormal." It happens.

There are a hundred-million reasons why it happens, and the only way to figure out why it's happening for you right now is to do some soul-searching. At your age, I think a prime suspect would be that you're in the jumping off point for your adult life. This can be a tumultuous time for a variety of reasons, and your focus and energy may be naturally geared toward the things that help you explore and settle into this new phase of life. Even beyond that, if you have have a demanding job (including being a parent or caregiver), are going to school or studying for job-related tests/classes, or have a lot going on right now (multiple projects, lots of travel, lots of appointments and social commitments, etc.)--your focus and energy is probably running thin as it is, so finding a way to funnel what's left into writing is going to take some finesse. And that's if this is even the right time for it, which I'll get to later on.

Writing Stress = Writing Avoidance

One of the most mind-blowing things I've learned about writing is that writing avoidance often comes down to writing feeling stressful for whatever reason. If you're putting a lot of pressure on yourself to write, write a certain amount, meet goals or deadlines, that translates to stress. It makes writing stressful, and the problem with that is evolution has wired our brains to avoid things that are stressful. At its most basic level, stress is a response to danger--you hear a lion roar in the distance, it causes you stress, you turn and run in the opposite direction. Stress triggers the "fight or flight response," a defense mechanism that protects us from the impending danger. With writing, "fight" shows up as self-criticism. "Flight" shows up as avoidance.

So, if you find that you want to write but are avoiding it, it's worth considering if you're avoiding it because it feels stressful to you. If so, there are things you can do to de-stress writing. For one thing, let go of the notion that you have to write any particular thing or amount in order to be a writer. Set yourself a bare minimum writing goal to reach every day... like writing for 10 minutes. That can be any writing--journaling, writing prompts, working on a story, fleshing out story ideas, fluffy fan-fiction, poetry, writing down a favorite memory, doing a book or movie review, anything. Try to do it every day, but don't beat yourself up if you sit down and aren't able to write anything, don't write a lot, or never sit down at all. Just try, every day, do your best. Also, try setting up a writing routine that you do every day when you sit down for that little writing session. Try to pick the same or similar time each day, do a little meditation or stretch beforehand, put on some soft music or light a candle, get your favorite drink or small snack. If you do this almost every day, what you'll start to find is that the writing happens more and more easily. Eventually you'll be spend more and more time doing it.

Why can I say I'm interested in writing when I don't write at all?

I'm interested in traveling to England but I haven't yet and have no current plans to. Does that mean I'm not allowed to say I'm interested in traveling to England?

Being interested in something doesn't mean you have to do that thing right now or you can't say you're interested in it.

And even if you can't write right now for whatever reason, there are still plenty of writerly things you CAN do. Following writing blogs and vlogs is a good start. You can listen to writing podcasts and read writing craft books. You can keep a notebook full of plot and character ideas, setting inspiration, favorite quotes, interesting words, and overheard bits of dialogue. You can watch TV shows and movies (and read books, which includes listening to audiiobooks!) You don't even have to do these things all the time or everyday. Just periodically, when you can. It all goes into your creative well and will be there to draw from when you are able to write.

One final word...

You do not have to be in a hurry to be a writer or to be a published writer. The average age of first-time publication is mid-30s. I was mid-40s. Jane Austen was 35. Toni Morrison was 40. J.R.R. Tolkien was 45. Richard Adams was 52. Annie Proulx was 57. Laura Ingalls Wilder was 65. National Book Award winner Harriet Doerr was 74. Poet Sarah Yerkes started writing poetry at 97 and was published at 101.

So, be interested in writing. Own that interest. Figure out if and how writing fits into your life right now. If it doesn't, do the other things. Fill your creative well so it will be ready when writing does fit into your life. ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[that-ari-blogger]

On Grim Spectacle and Greatest Fears

There's a reason Enchanting Grom Fright is beloved by fans of the Owl House, not only is it just a plain old good story, it's also a phenomenal queer story.

But why is that so, and what makes it so important? That's what this post is about.

And if you're wondering whether I'm going to talk about @moringmark in this post, you bet I am.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

If you look at online discourse, there is a lot of discussion about "good representation" and that is certainly an interesting discussion, but I don't think there is much explanation as to why representation is important in the first place. It is a good thing, we all know this, but why?

One word: Normalisation. Representation of varying identities, cultures, and ethnicities is important because it takes apart the implicit bias inherent in society.

The generic individual in western society is white, male, and straight, and while there is nothing wrong with these character traits, this means that anything added to that template becomes a statement. It becomes an important metaphor for the story which doesn't get applied to someone with the three characteristics I mentioned earlier.

For example, there is a question in analysis of what a character being gay does for a story, where a character being perceived as straight doesn't get that level of scrutiny.

This is a problem for a number of reasons, most notably it abnormalizes certain traits that a large proportion of society (myself included) exhibit, effectively othering those people as a result.

Representation does the opposite of this, it allows real people who are not the generic individual to be treated with the same level of respect and for audience members who don't usually see themselves in media to find characters like themselves, to see their own stories reflected in fiction.

I think the best reason for representation actually comes from Ordinary, by Joriah Kwame, the sequel to Little Miss Perfect. This song, written explicitly from Luz Noceda's perspective, says this:

"The characters I read never act or look like me I can't depend on them to lead me through the right door"

Stories are a way of learning about the world and yourself, and in stories with extremely low representation for marginalised people, that lesson is pretty clear.

@jameswoodall has a video essay on YouTube titled How Much Representation Is Enough. In it Woodall discusses the benefits of representation through a queer lens, and argues about the end goal thusly:

"It's not about achieving a certain percentage. It's about making that percentage stop mattering. When queer representation is no longer noteworthy. When queer inclusion is so naturally assumed that nobody feels the need to count anymore. When even if we did put queer rep in every story, nobody would bat an eyelid. Because we have just as much right to be there as anyone else."

So, let's talk about Grom.

Meromorphic is a channel with a two-hour long video about The Owl House as a whole, and while there is a lot in that video that I disagree with (as is the nature of media analysis) it is comprehensive and fascinating, and I would recommend giving it a watch.

However, I am not bringing up that video to talk about its points, instead, I would like to shamelessly steal borrow a term from it: Magic Literalism. In this context, it means when a piece of media uses magic to make physical an intangible concept. In this case, it turns fear into a monster, that being Grom.

When Grom looks into Luz, she sees Luz's mother, and she sees Luz's fear of disappointment. She sees that Luz has a secret that she hasn't told her mother in case she breaks her heart. It's literally about the Boiling Isles, but there's something written between the lines here.

It is possible to read this as Luz's fear of coming out to her mother, and by "it's possible", I mean that this is how I read this.

Coming out is terrifying, even if you have supportive parents, it's still asking people to accept a part of you, and that comes with risk, because if they don't accept you, what do you do?

That's what I think Luz is afraid of.

Amity, on the other hand, is afraid of getting rejected in a similar way, although hers is more direct. Amity is scared of falling in love and not being loved back.

As a side not, I think it's a really cool detail that of Odalia's many flaws, homophobia isn't one. As in, Amity isn't afraid of coming out to her parents, and when she makes passing remarks about having a girlfriend to her mother and father, their surprise is that it's with Luz, not with another girl. Bellos kind of keeps this going, and the message with that is clear. Homophobia is too low, even for these villains.

Anyway, Amity's experience with Grom is the other side of being queer, the romantic part. I am aware that romance isn't something everyone experiences, but when you do, especially when you are queer, confessing your feelings for someone is terrifying.

So, Amity avoids the question and doesn't really confront it directly at all. Even at the end of the episode, she has everything thrust upon her and still doesn't confess. Luz does the same thing with her mother. Fear is a powerful force, and I would argue that the best time to deal with it is when you are ready, not before.

I really like the scene in the forest. The light gives the two a feeling of warmth and safety, and it wards of the night. Once again, it's Luz giving hope to those around her, and here it is in a more personal sense. Light, do not falter.

The colour palate of the scene (that warm light) conveys that these two people are comfortable in each other's presence and can talk freely around each other. They are already in love; someone just needs to say it.

However, there is another side to Grometheus that also factors into being queer. When Amity explains the event, the art style changes into this style that I want to call classical, even though it probably isn't (art nerds, rise up in the replies and tell me what this is please). But she also directly calls the Grom event a tradition.

"Every year it tries to break out and a student has to defeat it before it invades town. Ever the optimist, Bump holds a party and calls it tradition."

Perhaps tradition, at least in the Boiling Isles, isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Perhaps there is an issue with seeing a problem and instead of trying to fix it, stalling it and making a spectacle out of achieving nothing. Maybe there is an issue with willingly putting children in danger for the drama of it. Maybe the fact that certain sports are just the audience enjoying people getting life threatening injuries might be an issue. I'm just throwing ideas out at this point.

If we link Grom with fear, there is the idea that fear spreads from schools and it is the role of the students, as decreed by the adults, to contain it. See the plot of Footloose for an example of this, or certain places in the real world today, where fear of the other (mainly bigotry) takes the form of arguments about schoolbooks.

This is a valid reading, but I'd like to go a bit wild with my interpretation and talk about @moringmark's comics.

Chapter three of A Little Hint of Blue is a brilliant piece of storytelling that actually characterises Bosha a ton. It carries the theme of fear over to both Skara and Bosha, but it shows them in real time. Skara is scared that Bosha won't let her spend time with... (*checks notes*)... Fledermaus?

She has good reason for this, Bosha is overprotective to the point of toxicity and runs on her own fear. Bosha's hierarchical worldview comes from a place of fear as well, she's afraid of being out of control, and a really subtle thing that gets done in this comic is the association of Bosha with fire.

It doesn't really get done in the original series, but Bosha and fire are such a neat thematic paring. They both consume, they both try to reach out, and fire is heavily associated with strong emotions, like anger and fear.

Bosha tries to control everything in the same way she controls her flames, but as it turns out, people aren't fire. People, when they are free, don't immediately destroy things, and a lot of people actually benefit from that freedom. Most notably, artists and musicians, like Skara.

Grom Factor also deals with the subject matter, but from a slightly different perspective.

First up, the most obvious, at least to me. Enna saves the town but it outcast in the process because what she is scares people, despite her heroism, she is not accepted. The metaphor isn't perfect and reading it as a one-to-one analogy is a detriment to the story. For example, the reason for Enna being outcast is because of a curse, and queer people are generally not magically cursed to be queer, they are born that way.

But, there is also the idea of Luz's fear as an adult being the exact same as when she was a child. She is scared of disappointing people, specifically her family and her daughter. This means that she is acutely aware of Ayzee's own mirror of that, and this line is spectacular:

"Make yourself proud"

It's ok to be afraid of what others think, that's part of being human (or a witch, or a demon. It's part of being sentient), but in the end, the only person who you have to make proud, is yourself.

Final Thoughts

I've been dying to talk about the Moringmark comics, and I do plan on talking about them more, but that will happen when I get there. I will do more gushing about their serious artistic and storytelling skill when that happens, so buckle up.

Enchanting Grom Fright is one of my favourite episodes of the series as a whole, and its a testament to the writing of it that there is more that I am yet to cover, and more that I am discovering as I watch it. For example, the storyline with Gus and King is a big part of the episode, but I didn't mention it because it wasn't really relevant to my main point, and the whole thing with the dance is stellar.

Next week, I am looking at Wing It Like Witches, so stick around if that interests you.

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[jokobub]

The Great Thing About HNKNA Being An Otome Game

I had an epiphany a few months ago. I’ve talked before about how many pitfalls HNKNA experiences by nature of it being a dating simulator, and how a lot of the cooler parts of the story and lore are overshadowed by the core romance mechanic and how I’m not a big fan of it, blah blah. But I’ve also seen way too many modern Alice in Wonderland adaptations as a result of my ridiculously long-term Kuni no Alice hyperfixation, and allow me to say that there is one thing that it nails that nothing else can even come close to touching— Alice herself!

The Kuni no Alice series brings about what I think is the best modern interpretation of Alice I’ve yet to see in any media I’ve consumed. She’s quick-witted and brings the attitude, but she cares. Her reactions are realistically absurd and there are few moments throughout everything where she feels out of character or unrelatable. And I think the otome genre is crucial to why that is.

By nature, dating simulators don’t have strong protagonists. They’re supposed to be a blank canvas for the player to project onto to achieve their goals. Am I calling Alice flat? No, quite the opposite. Her story is set in a Victorian-inspired fantasy land with lots of guns and danger and a strict social structure, but it’s intended for a modern audience, and when connection with your protagonist is the key to connection with your story, a modern audience means a modern Alice.

The modern Alice is one of the hardest characters to write.

In most instances of an adapted, cool, edgy Alice in Wonderland, the most insufferable character on screen is, in fact, Alice. This is true of the Disney films, SyFy’s Alice special, Once Upon a Time in Wonderland, etc. More often than not, Alice Kingsleigh, Hamilton, whatever you want to call her, is a young adult frustrated by life in an oppressive society who will only accept her if she acts in a hyper-specific way, usually at the risk of being institutionalized should she fail to comply. She argues with her parents, who want her to get married, and all of this turns her into a spiteful girl who is always on the defensive.

It’s insufferable to watch.

The character of Alice is too often portrayed as relentlessly mean, but under the guise of empowerment. The audience is tired of weak-willed women, so the director hunches Alice’s dress up passed her ankles and gives her a sword, an attitude, and an ugly man to kiss without her parents’ involvement. Biologically engineered to shatter every well-known gender role established in Victorian England and basically nothing else, movies and TV deliver their “strong female protagonists” in the form of a curt, unchangingly rude version of Alice whose words and actions are supposed to be justified by her circumstances. And god, does it fucking suck!

You can't connect to this Alice, this armed and ready, sharp-tongued, "curiouser and curiouser" Alice who lives in a world that practically clears a narratively untouchable path to every foot she plans to step on. Personally, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The misunderstood to confused, to disgruntled, to aggressive pipeline is overplayed to the point where the Alice of any and all modern interpretations has become, essentially, the same character, forced to loop the same 6 emotional plot points from now into eternity, no matter how many coats of science fiction you put over it.

(Yes, there is a part of me that understands this comes from the fact that Alice is most often written by money-hungry, corporate studios, led primarily by men, who do not understand feminine audiences, or how they want to see themselves represented in media. I get that. And Alice Liddell is not safe from that. But consider: she's my babygirl.)

Am I saying the character of Alice can't be mean, can't say fuck, can't have a sword? Of course not!!!! Give women swords!!! But I am saying that every time a director phones it in with that "Oh, I know that book" budget and gives a British blondie trust issues, a prophecy, and a quirked up, top hat-wearing sidekick to have unfulfilling sexual tension with, i lose my wings AND my marbles.

Enter: our Alice Liddell.

What do we have with her, really? Well, the protagonist of a mid-shelf otome game, which has sequels out the wazoo, a movie and 2 stage play runs, but still somehow only enough translated media to fill a single Barnes and Noble shopping basket about halfway. Thanks QuinRose.

But for real.

Alice Liddell is written, from the ground up, as an otome protagonist. As such, there are narrative must-haves that she can't shake. She needs to be relatable to the modern young adult, even if she's supposed to reflect the Victorian female experience. This would usually be the Achilles Heel of an adapted protagonist: you, the player, get to watch in horror as your favorite whimsical Main Girl is watered down into a bowl of nothing soup for the sake of projection and selling more copies of a game with eye candy catboys and toxicity glorification.

HOWEVER,

(stay seated girlies don't go yet)

This necessary mundanity that is baked into Alice's character, inseparable from her very being as the taste of weed in a brownie, is what singlehandedly saves this adaptation and makes her objectively the best. Unlike in a lot of cinematic adaptations, she's not meant to be the (failed) vehicle of a "deeper narrative" about the strength and roles of women in society. She doesn't exist for any higher purpose, she isn't the chosen one who will declare "Damn The Man" and force the world to listen.

Alice is a girl doing everything she can. She's experienced profound loss. She's self-deprecating. Snarky. She's been through break ups, gotten even with bullies, cuddled with her cat on a Sunday, everything that doesn't matter. The crux of her character is that she's been burned by life and love, yet she can't truly give up on them. Hers is a story of healing, of adaptation and getting back up when life kicks the shit out of you. No matter how sharply she speaks, Kuni no Alice's Alice almost always acts from a place of concern and love for others. She crucially never wields a weapon, reacting to the violence of Wonderland with that extremely jaded "holy fucking shit, what the fuck?" energy that I think any of us would bring to the table, given the circumstances. She's not her community's """lunatic,""" she's not sailing the high seas sideways, she's not on drugs, or destiny's favorite, or anything like that. She's new in town! She's sick of these people! She just wants to go home and read!

She's you. She's me. She's a clusterfuck of a damaged girl, trying to sort out what matters, find her passion and move forward without letting her past stray too far from memory. She's someone whose self-importance and perception by others is foreign to her. She wants to matter, wants not to be left alone by the people she loves, but god forbid she ever admit it.

QuinRose gives us Alice Liddell, suffering failgirl, not Alice Liddell, conceptual landmark, and that was the best possible route anyone could have taken with this character. Alice is the main character, but she is not a hero, and that's a fucking genius move.

thanks for coming to my ted talk. i love u alice.

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙶𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚘𝚠𝚗

Sylus X Evie (OC)

Warnings -> Humour, mentions of murder, Sylus getting his ass slapped, gets the tiniest bit suggestive at the end, situationship dynamic

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

I’m going to die today.

I can picture my final resting place now; a six foot hole in the ground with fresh dirt on top, a bouquet of my favourite flowers and a tombstone that reads:

‘Here lies Evie. Dead because she was dared to slap the boss of Onychinus’ ass.’

If I had more time, I would have studied black magic to make sure Luke and Kieran go out with me. But I don’t have more time, not when the re-release of one of my favourite smutty books is on the horizon with an exclusive and very limited cover.

Clearly, I value books more than my own life.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight.”

I jump at the voice, head snapping towards Sylus sitting in the driver’s seat of his car. One of several cars he owns. He isn’t looking at me, scarlet eyes fixated on the road ahead as he drives at the N109 Zone’s speed limit. In other words, faster than Linkon’s law actually allows.

“It’s nothing.” I deflect his observation as casually as I can manage. I turn my eyes to look out the front window, not wanting to risk making eye contact with him should he happen to glance at me, but also not wanting to turn away completely and raise suspicion. “I stayed up later then I should have, that’s all.”

Working for Onychinus has completely warped my sleep schedule. My patterns used to be that of a normal person, awake during the day and asleep at night, but now I’m active beneath both the sun and moon. Instead of sleeping straight through one cycle phase, I’ve learned to split my rest in two. Sunrise and sunset are my resting hours now, with daylight my free time and overnight my work hours.

Sylus hums, and the sound vibrates in my gut. I love hate the way it feels. “Reading again?”

I did fit in more reading time where I should have been asleep, but that wasn’t the cause of my hesitation to start a conversation. “Am I that predictable?”

“Painfully so.” He turns onto the street that leads to the base. “I am, after all, aware of your particular taste in novels.”

My face burns hot, much so that I cross my arms and dig my nails into my skin. “That isn’t the only genre I read. I keep more tame stuff at home.”

He snickers. “I’m sure.”

Minutes later, we arrive. I follow half a step behind Sylus as we navigate the base, the both of us headed in the same direction. My office is in his personal wing, where it has been since I got hired a year and a half ago. To this day, I still haven’t been able to get a clear answer as to why he put me so close to him. On a professional level it makes sense, being his personal assistant and all, but given the nature of his work… it seems odd to place an absolute stranger right outside your door.

Though, I’m not exactly much of a threat. I doubt a man like Sylus sees much harm in a woman whose only weapon is a pencil with a pointy end.

“Take the rest of the night off.” Sylus breaks the silence as we turn down the hallway leading to his wing.

Stunned, I come to a stop. Sylus carries on without looking back, his footsteps alone echoing off the walls. He gets a several strides ahead before I’m jogging to catch up. “But, the notes from the meeting today need to be-”

He grabs the handle of the door that leads to his private quarters, and he finally turns his head to look down at me. Not in the sense that I’m below him, but literally has to look down. “If you’re too tired to interrupt my peace and quiet the way you normally do, then you’re useless tonight.”

I huff and cross my arms. “You make me sound like someone who never shuts up.”

One corner of his mouth curls up. “Are you not aware of how noisy you are, kitten? That’s an order.”

I clamp my mouth shut to keep any witty remarks inside. Sylus waits a moment, and when he’s satisfied that I won’t argue, turns the handle and pushes open the door.

That’s when I realize that if I don’t strike now, I’ll never have a chance to do so again. The boss’ guard is down, the hallway is empty, and several escape routes are available.

Should I go light? No, better to stun him and buy myself several seconds of precious time.

Sylus makes it half a stride through the door before my hand connects with his ass, the resounding slap like a grenade in the silence.

Then I’m flying back the way we came, fleeing for my life and the exclusive book cover I’m so desperate to get my hands on. “Sorry, Sir!”

I whip around the corner, going so fast I almost crash right into Luke and Kieran. They jump to the side, pressing their backs against opposite walls and clearing the way for me to get by.

Luke cackles beneath his crow mask. “Where’s the fire, Evie?”

“I better get a signed copy, you doorknobs!”

I’m racing around the next corner seconds before their howling laughter turns into strangled yelps. My heart sinks. He’s catching up, and he’s catching up fast.

I throw myself into the closest supply closet without thinking, barricading the door with a gun rack and ducking behind a shelf of random things that I make a mental note to sort through at some point in the future. Assuming I even live to see the future.

I throw my hands over my nose and mouth to muffle my breathing when footsteps draw near. I stare through a gap between the shelves, watching the light beneath the door. A prayer my grandmother used to recite comes to mind as footsteps drew near, two points of shadow obstructing the light.

The footsteps fall silent. Neither of the shadows move.

‘Please no, please no, please no, please no, please no.’

The shadows move and the footsteps start again, the sound becoming distant until they disappear completely.

Dropping my hands, I let out the quietest sigh of relief I can manage. I’m not brave enough to risk sneaking out now, not when Sylus is still on the prowl. I’ll stay hidden in here until sunrise if I have to.

Getting comfy on the floor, I fish my phone from my back pocket. The clock reads 11:48 PM.

‘I won.’

Three hours go by. Pain attacks my spine when I finally straighten myself out, fingers numb from holding my phone and battery percentage in the red zone. I started and finished an entire book on my reading app in the time I’ve been hiding here.

No one has passed by the closet since I first jumped in here. If it was Sylus who briefly stopped outside the door, he hasn’t come back yet. Either he was still lingering somewhere in the base, or he stepped out.

Waiting till sunrise to make an escape no longer feels doable. Not if I still want to have any kind of feeling in my body.

Tucking my phone away, I uncross my legs and bite back a cry at the pins and needles feeling that shoots up them. I mentally curse out Luke and Kieran as I grit my teeth through the attack. It feels like forever before the numbness finally fades and I can stand without feeling like my legs are going to give out from under me.

The stupid wheels on the gun rack screech obnoxiously as I push it aside. Then the hinges on the door shriek as I slowly crack the closet open. Both ends of the hallway are clear, and a quick glance at the ceiling doesn’t reveal any sign of Mephisto.

I’m clear. Hopefully. I get going before that changes.

I make it halfway down the hall when something drifting from the ceiling catches my attention. It’s a black feather, and it sets my internal alarm off and has me making another scan for the mechanical crow. I still don’t see him.

The feather floats down in front of me, and my curiosity wins. My hand seems to reach out all on its own to grab it. The second my fingers brush against the soft feather, it disintegrates into black and red mist.

‘Oh fu-’

My wrist is suddenly caught in an iron grip, a pair of crimson eyes narrow, tempting lips set in a firm line. I don’t even think to run.

Instead, I blink up at him. “Hello, Sir.”

“Evie.” My name is flat on his tongue.

“About earlier,” I put on the most innocent smile in my arsenal. “It was Luke and Kieran’s idea. Punish them, not me.”

“Oh, they’ve already received what they’re owed.” He pulls my wrist until I bump into his chest. “Now, what do you think you’re owed for that little surprise?”

“Forgiveness?” Noticing the thin chain on his collar was undone, I fix it for him. “You know, Sir, I think it would be good for you to practice leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past. A handsome face like yours should eliminate as many causes of stress as possible to prevent faster aging.”

He raises a brow, not at all looking convinced. “Is that how it works?”

I nod. “There has been research done. If you let me live, I can have a full report on your desk by tomorrow night.”

Sylus hums as if considering it. Then, miraculously, he lets me go. “Leave yesterday’s grudges in the past, is it? Perhaps you’re right.” He turns to the side and lifts an arm as if to say ‘go ahead’. “Enjoy the rest of your night off, Evie.”

‘I’m so dead.’

I don’t turn my back to him. In fact, I walk backwards while holding eye contact with him, the amused smile on his face a mask for something more lethal. It’s only when I’m forced to turn a corner that I let him out of my sight.

My steps and quick and paranoid, the base seeming to stretch on endlessly before I finally make it to the exit. Then I actually make it outside, the full moon and cool air welcoming me in celebration of my survival.

“Huh.” I cross my arms and pinch my chin between my thumb and index finger. “I can’t believe I actually got away with-”

Something slaps against my ass with a swift, sharp strike. I jump in surprise, a startled yelp forcing itself free from my throat. Eyes wide, I whirl around to find Sylus smirking down at me with one hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other hanging at his side.

“Sir!” I exclaim, rubbing the spot he hit. It was tingling, though I can’t say if it’s from the slap or the knowledge that it was him who touched me. “What happened to leaving yesterday’s grudges in the past?!”

“You’re so naive, kitten. For a man who is more active at night, ‘yesterday’ is still today.” He closes the distance between us and leans down until his lips are at my ear. “Pull a stunt like that again, and I’ll bind your wrists until you’re begging me to set you free. Do you understand?”

My breath hitches. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He nips my earlobe before pulling away. “The driver will take you home.”

Even after he disappears back inside, I’m still staring at the door, my heart hammering and cheeks burning. Is a book cover really worth what I put myself through tonight?

My phone buzzed with a message. It’s from Kieran, showing proof that they held up their end of the bargain. Not only did they get their hands on the exclusive cover, but they got it signed.

‘Totally worth it.’

SFW Masterlist

Tag List:

@softlycandescent @goat-mama-breezie

[aingeal98]

Y'know this is a really broad question and (since I know you're more of a Cass/stephcass kinda person) potentially out of your wheelhouse but I enjoy your perspective on lots of Steph related matters, so indulge me if you will: any thoughts on the argument that timsteph is/isn't 'unhealthy' and/or the characters are unfair to each other/bad partners?

Lots of qualifying clauses in that question, I know, but it's interesting to me because I usually see a lot of staunch arguments that either timsteph is completely/irreparably unhealthy (usually with one half as more of a 'perpetrator' in the eyes of fans) OR that timsteph is exclusively a great romance and that their various ups and downs are either inconsequential or the result of OOC writing.

I think the question is mostly interesting to me bc I see both sides of the argument and to me it raises questions about when things cross the line from "a fictional relationship we're meant to root for that simply contains elements of heightened drama which would be considered unhealthy IRL due to it's fictional nature which we're meant to excuse/suspend disbelief for" to "a fictional reflection of unhealthy dynamics".

This is a lot of yap on my part so again, no hard feelings if you decide to pass up tackling it.

Really good question that I had to think hard about. Ultimately the answer depends on if you mean they're unhealthy in universe vs out of universe, Watsonian vs Doyalist. I'm going to stick to pre N52 only as I think from N52 onwards they were... Fine? But kind of bland. The writers had erased all of Steph's backstory anyway so they had none of their history and were just kind of... Normal dating. But pre N52 in the 90s and 00s is where the unhealthiness is at its peak so that's where most of the discourse comes from.

So in universe I think both of them make mistakes and have certain attitudes and behaviours that could be deal breakers for some people, ie Tim's cheating and how he follows Bruce's footsteps dismissing Steph, and how Steph will sometimes overstep some boundaries because Dixon wanted to write the spunky bad girl pursuing the sensible chaste guy. But ultimately in universe there's nothing so bad that I'd write their entire relationship off as unhealthy, at least not before War Games. They had good moments and bad, and whether you think the good outweighed the bad or vice versa really comes down to what you personally can forgive and understand in a relationship and what you enjoy seeing in fictional romances. So Tim's cheating was an immediate red line for me even though I never thought him evil for it, just kind of dumb. And I'd understand if people still shipped them and thought them sweet despite that. So like, they have their unhealthy moments but I'd be wary of going to either extreme aka "Toxic and evil" or "perfect soulmates who's mistakes were ooc"

This is their pre war games versions I'm referring to. After War Games when Steph came back the writer for Robin basically used her as a tool to give Tim angst and show how cool he was. It's the worst Steph's ever been to Tim but it was also so poorly written and clearly biased thay even from an in universe perspective I can't take it seriously. Everything pre war games I wouldn't count as ooc but this... Yeah this deserves the extreme. It's not even "She wouldn't do that." it's more "Why are you not showing us why she's doing this. How am I meant to accept this when her motivations and characterization is so poorly written." It's like a lesser version of when writers lazily butcher Talia to benefit Bruce or Damian. There's no explanation or motivation for Steph's actions that make any sense, so I have zero interest in that version of Steph because she's even more of a prop for Tim than she was during war games, which was an incredibly disappointing way to bring her back and one of the reasons I'm very glad she got her own batgirl run.

Which brings me to out of universe. Because while in universe I'd hesitate to slap the unhealthy label on them the way I would on say, versions of Bruce that hit his kids (I think there is a big difference between the unhealthiness of timsteph and the writing of Batman as an abusive father, and I think Bruce's dynamic with his kids crossed the line from dramatic to unacceptable and toxic a lot more frequently and more extremely than timsteph did) out of universe looking at them from a perspective of how it benefits their characters I would say it's super unhealthy for Steph. Which is ironic because her romance with Tim and her featuring in his comics is how she became a constant character, but the writing is always trying to remind us that Tim is better than Steph, more heroic than Steph, more suitable for this life than Steph. Only the writing is so bad that, like with a lot of Tim's writing, the proof comes down to "Because Batman said so idk."

And that culminates in the failure that is War Games. Steph becoming Robin is all about getting Tim back. Both in universe as Bruce's motivation and in reality as the writers plan. While Steph is being tortured horribly Tim is helping is classmates as a civilian, and the writing hammers us over the head about how capable and competent and perfect Tim is to the point that I felt nauseous reading it because it felt like such a disgusting way to uplift him. And then when Steph comes back, she's not allowed have any actual emotions or feelings about what happened to her. The writers just throw her into a dumb Tim and Bruce plot without any care about how she would actually think and feel, and the same happens in Red Robin. It's all Tim Tim Tim and only her Batgirl series and her reaction to Bruce being alive actually allow her to be shown as a person and not just a prop to uplift Tim.

So basically in universe they're not my cup of tea but they're not like, abusive or anything. They're just shitty to each other sometimes, but they love each other and have their good moments pre war games. From a Doylist perspective though? I've yet to see timsteph written in a way that actually uplifts Steph's character, as even when she's written by someone who likes her and wants to keep her around such as Dixon there's just so much misogyny in how their dynamic is written. So I'm hoping they never get back together and just stay exes with a past so painful and complicated they don't want to talk about it with anyone, but especially not each other.

Thanks for the ask! I hope this made sense lmao I rambled a whole lot

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

I was wondering your thoughts on Yui Kodai and what would you have done differently with her character?

Alright, buckle up, cause this is going to be a trip down head-canon city 😂. Feel free to let me know what you think about my head-canons.

So Yui’s seen as a blank slate character. In the manga/anime, she has little to no personality and really only exists to enlarge objects for other characters to use. However, even from such a small template, there’s quite a lot you can do with her.

Before we start, I wanna say that Yui’s got one of my favorite designs in all of fiction. I don’t know why I like it so much, but I think it’s cause it’s the perfect blend of cute and plain. I tend to like the simpler designs and she’s without a doubt got that all down.

Now for the head-canons:

- Yui’s a clear introvert. So much so that her idea of fun is hanging out in her room either alone or with one individual who’s on a similar wavelength to hers, hence why she’s usually seen around Reiko… whenever she’s out of her room. 1-B’s a bit too eccentric for her most of the time, but it’s not like she’s got any ill will towards them. She sees them as friendly people and doesn’t really resist being dragged around to their hangout sessions, but she’s not too involved with anything they do.

- Yui’s a cat person over a dog person. She really likes dogs, and animals in general, but cats have a personality similar to hers so she enjoys their company.

- She’s a huge Ultraman fan. So much so that if someone gives her the time, she can recount everything there needs to be known about the Ultraman series. She also likes other manga and anime, but Ultraman’s really where her passion lies. Why did I pick Ultraman of all things? It’s cause her costume and quirk are actually based on Ultraman.

- Yui’s stoic nature is due to the popular kuudere trope, but if we wanna add a realistic explanation for why she’s stoic, in one of my fics, I’ve made it so she has Schizoid personality disorder. For the most part, Yui feels like she’s more of an observer when it comes to her life. She struggles to make meaningful relationships in her life, struggles to find excitement, and a reason to exist. She’s not suicidal or anything, but it’s hard for her to get involved with the world. She’d rather be in her own world, which is quiet, cozy, and the one place she can find entertainment.

- Though mostly apathetic to the world around her, in her eyes, she knows there’s something “wrong” with her. It’s something that gnaws at her and is one of the rare topics that’ll cause her to get frustrated. When she gets like this, she shuts down as drifts off into space. This is one of those head-canons that is based around my own experiences with my mental health.

- When it comes to friends, Yui has given it little thought. She views 1-B as friendly people she interacts with, but isn’t sure she’d call them her friends due to her struggles of forming relationships. At best, she closest with Reiko, but it’s due to Reiko being a quiet individual herself and the fact their quirks synergize with one another’s.

- Yui’s got a 5/6 A+ ranking in skill. How does that translate into a fight? First off, she knows numerous martial arts, that much is a given. She took it to feel more alive and ended up being quite good at it. Her brain doesn’t really overthink things, so she never hesitates. That’s not to say that she isn’t a strategic fighter. One of Yui’s favorite tricks is tossing an item and enlarging it. Against those with destructive quirks like Katsuki, it forces them to either dodge or break the item, and when the enemy breaks it Yui capitalizes on the new weapons. In a fight, Yui’s quick and to the point. Her model of fighting is to finish things as quickly as possible, and she doesn’t think twice about playing dirty. Throat punches, striking pressure points, enlarging objects like rocks to bludgeon someone with them, she’ll go for it all. If she has to break someone’s leg to get an advantage, she’ll do so too. Her method of fighting’s something most people would see as brutal and somewhat morbid, but for Yui, it’s a means to an end, and due to her apathetic nature, she almost never hesitates to go for low blows if at a disadvantage. She does know self control though, but she doesn’t really care what others think about the way she fights.

- Her reason for being a hero is a mixture of her being inspired by the Ultraman comics and because people told her she’d make for a good hero due to her quirk and skills. Having no other prospects in life, she decided to give hero work a chance. Hero work’s one of the few things she’s somewhat passionate about and she hopes to learn a bit about herself along the way.

- According to Hori, Yui had a fanclub of guys who liked her in middle-school. Yui has no idea about their existence. For the most part, people see Yui as an enigma. No one knows what’s going on inside her head and that combined with her looks is why she’s popular with guys. She has no idea when guys are flirting with her and is always blunt with her answers. For the most part, she’s not interested in relationships, mainly because she lacks the ability to form such relationships, but if someone can knock down all her walls, she might be interested.

These are all my head-canons for Yui. I know it’s a lot for a character with very little screen time but let me know what you all think 😊

[rad-hound]

Top five writer pet peeves you have. Hell, artist as well if you have any

TOP FIVE WRITER / ARTIST PET PEEVES

1. Overuse or repetition of tropes or stereotypes in fiction:

This includes, but is most certainly not limited to, tropes you may begrudgingly stumble across on fanfiction-housing websites like AO3, such as: borderline or unapologetically racist depictions of black and brown people. And especially upon the likes of AO3, if you know, you know. As well as fetishized depictions of trans men... of which is sadly common in the Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance community, as well, in primary reference to how they write Raiden. And while I'm no stranger to trans headcanons of my own, a lot of the work on AO3 where Raiden is depicted as a trans man seems... tasteless. Seeing how most of these depictions I find myself irked by appear to have been written by people who aren't trans themselves. Or, at least, not to my own knowledge. (Typically, my know-how is whether or not they tag their work as, "Trans [redacted] written by a trans author." But of course, this is but a shallow assumption to be taken with a grain of salt.) Such other, lesser consequential and controversial repetitive (albeit, with a grain of salt) tropes I often see in writing are primarily some nitpicks of mine, such as how some people who clearly aren't Southern try to write or depict a Southern accent, without so much as speaking to, much less interacting with someone who may live in the U.S. South within an inch of their life. Or how Latino men in fiction are often treated as these... promiscuous, dangerous rebels who fruitlessly try to whisk their love interest away from their already-existing, usually white or eurocentric lover. I see this with how people write Jetstream Sam / Samuel Rodrigues in fanfiction, despite his base depiction not at all reflecting the odd fashion which fans always seem to write him within. Though, I wouldn't know, maybe such depictions are equally as controversial, or perhaps they cannot be compared. But these are ones that I notice right away that sort of make my brain itch. Not enough for me to gripe at a writer face-to-face about it, but... just a thought, since we're here. Don't burn me at the stake.

2. "Woobification" of antagonists & the morally ambiguous / exclusion & sanitization of moral ambiguity in fiction:

The same sentiment is equally applicable in the very opposite manner; the manner in which people who write fanfiction for some reason crank the edge factor up to 90, when the canonicity of aforementioned character's moral ambiguity is much more subtle and lesser obnoxious than they believe. Yet another phenomenon I see occur in characters like Raiden, where—while yes, at points, or a point, he is rather... unsavory—this lesser subtle, more violent side of him comes to surface even once, it feels as though fans completely disregard his other personality traits entirely. But if you were to ask these very same people to give the same treatment to the version of Raiden that is present in Metal Gear Solid 2: Sons of Liberty, you will hear nothing but crickets, despite his history of being a child soldier being present and stable within both games. Because, with that version of Raiden, the forced feminization—infantalization—he already endures conflicts with his more violent, unapologetic nature that exists within the canon of Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance. However, the opposite sentiment was not what I wanted to bicker about, my primary focus being how fans have a tendency to not only water down, but entirely disregard a morally-dubious character's behaviors and history, all for the sake of... "making their favorite character easier to digest," so to speak, so that it may leave less of a bad taste in their mouth whenever they faun over them so restlessly. Or, rather, resorting to the quite popular, fandom-intersectional excuse of, "the writing was bad," to void and excuse the fact that they enjoy a morally dubious character, while also simultaneously voiding themselves of the reality that they—as a person who indulges in and digests media—may or may not indulge in a problematic piece of fiction. When, in reality, the fact that we as people are even able to witness this side of fiction—while potentially unsavory, and triggering, in which case one should browse carefully—should serve as a testament to encourage us to broaden our own palette, and to exit our own comfort zone. Because it isn't wrong to read, or even think about, such stories, and it doesn't make us horrible, irredeemable people for doing so. So long as one isn't glorifying or praising the events or actions which may be portrayed through said stories. Because, at the end of the day, simply reading or liking a piece of fiction does not equal endorsement of anything to occur within it. It NEVER has equalled or equated to endorsement, in any sense of the word. Unless you're very outspoken about your own moral ambiguity and problematic views, simply liking a problematic character whose own views do not equate to your own does not make you somehow equal to them on a scale of morality. No one is judging you for enjoying Sundowner from Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, I assure you. Sincerely, a person whose current favorite Metal Gear character is, by far, the most unapologetically evil piece of shit in the entire series. And while it is not the hill I will die on, I've made myself clear.

3. Erasure of key character / ethnic traits of fictional characters in official IP art & fanart:

While this may not necessarily be in regards to how some characters are portrayed within written works or fanfiction, I still believe there is a conversation to be had about how frequently characters—especially characters that are black, brown, indigenous, etc.—are regularly misrepresented through not just artwork created by an IP's fans, but a lot of the time by official works leased by the companies who hold ownership over said IPs. The very same can be said about overweight or fat characters, who may regularly be drawn slimmer or skinnier to better suit the artist's own "comfort level," however even when such artists may be tasked through commission to draw a person's character that may be fat, they somehow still miss the mark. And, truthfully—in both discussing fat erasure and the erasure of POC in fictional media—I find that to be utterly ridiculous, because several black artists across every art or fannish community under the Sun have taken it upon themselves to not only create brushes to better emulate black features in digital art programs, but have—with their God-like patience—taken it upon themselves to create tutorials on how to not only draw black features, but how to color and shade black and brown skin, as well. Unfortunately, official artwork leased by the companies that create these characters aren't all that great about ensuring that all of their customers and fans are well-represented, either, as the most prime examples of companies which come to mind typically have a tendency to either be openly racist, colorist, sexist, homophobic... the whole nine yards. A sort of prejudice that is also very much present in a game like Metal Gear, or more particularly, Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, where several of the characters—either Costa Rican or Hispanic—are pasty pale, with very Eurocentric features. (Correct me if I'm wrong.) But, with situations such as these, I find myself feeling grateful for the fans of any IP that create artwork and fanart where these characters are given their proper, adequate features, either to make up for where the parent company of aforementioned IP failed them, or to make up for the already significant lack of representation that marginalized communities receive from aforementioned companies.

4. Usage of generative AI to create literature / fanfiction & for other intents & purposes:

This, in particular, applies to a more broad area than simply fanfiction alone, given people's tendency to resort to using artificial intelligence to pick up their slack in other areas, as well. Such as college essays—of which is already quite common, and often results in students being ruthlessly flunked from their courses for even considering such a course of action, and rightfully so, because most generative AI programs are trained on both accurate information AND misinformation—and roleplay. Where, at some point, I must beg the question: is this truly helping us? Now, don't get me wrong, artificial intelligence has already existed for decades, and has already helped humanity on a number of fronts; from the creation of the internet and its algorithms, to the aiding in the creation of modern medicine... but as we've seen again and again, generative AI really doesn't help anyone. And as we've seen again and again, those who shill and are the most vocal about this push to include generative AI in every facet of our lives have proven that, actually, they don't give two squats about the integrities or livelihoods of human artists. For instance, what we're seeing occur with the Glaze program, where artists are tainting their own art with cloaks in hopes that it would poison the already-vast dataset that exists within generative programs such as MidJourney and otherwise, likely already acquired by legally dubious means. But seeing the founder of Stability AI's willingness to break the law in order to scrape data, we already knew that. But, even when we put aside the very clear legal hurdles that the likes of generative AI present, there is also the very opaque matter of people using the likes of generative AI to not only generate pieces or the entirety of their fanfiction—of which is already a hot topic and very controversial within fandom and fanfiction spaces, particularly AO3—but also to fill in the gap for a roleplay partner which they might not have. Entirely defeating the purpose of roleplay at all; to make friends, connections, and to bond with those you roleplay with. In a manner no infinite amount of shallow AI could give you. And it pains me to see more and more young people finding themselves talking to an algorithm to get those experiences, or to fill in such an absence within their own online experience. To my roleplayers out there: roleplay forums do exist still, and there are thousands of them! Such examples include Forum Roleplay, RP Nation, RPG Initiative, RPGnet Forums... the list goes on and on forever! One that I personally reccommend from days of yore would be Chicken Smoothie, which doubles as a roleplay / art forum, and an animal adoption and trading game. Hell, there's a covert roleplaying community that is present here, on Tumblr! You don't have to resort to a shoddy AI to have a little bit of fun.

5. The concept of competitive & "the academic" arts in school settings / educational environments:

This very much applies to high school and / or college courses, the likes of which encourage students to, for some reason, "replicate" famous artists and their staples from the past. For example, Pablo Picasso, whose style was not only abstract, but a landmark at the time... something the likes of which no one has ever seen before. And it was that... new, innovative way of creating art that drew people in, that still draws people in to this day. As do several other famous artists in this world's history; Leonardo da Vinci, Vincent van Gogh, Frida Kahlo... even pop artist Andy Warhol. But... that's just it. I understand if there is some deeper merit of experience or a notion of, "hey, I tried this," when it comes to the task of replicating—or attempting to replicate—the styles and staples of famous artists in the past... but the one thing that all these artists have in common was that their minds were new, their works innovative... so why shouldn't art students be tasked to reach within the very same depths of their own soul to bring out their inner innovative artist, as well? Instead of simply replicating art from the past, and putting it into a portfolio in the hopes that some lousy liberal arts college finds them interesting. Of course, learning the history of art, and of famous artists, is rivetting, and is very interesting in its own rite. However, I believe curriculums should be encouraging artists to think outside of the box, instead of restricting them to a singular prompt or already-existing art style to simply replicate. And I understand, while restriction can be quite good for innovation at points... it shouldn't be the entirety of the curriculum. Give student artists a sense of importance, embolden them to discover their own identity through their art! Encourage them to do as they please! I've learned my lesson, and never again will I consider the notion of either attending an art school, an art class, nor will I submit porfolios of my art to any sort of institution. For my written works, maybe... but with physical artwork... that is a very different ballpark.

Anyways, those are my top five artist / writer pet peeves! Sorry, it drones on forever, but I simply had to take advantage of this ask and let it alllll out. So thank you, @miz-orque, for this ask, as it gave me a good opportunity to reflect upon my vices. ^_^

[sailor-aviator]

Sailor-Aviator's FAQ

Hi! Welcome to my FAQ page! Here is a list of the different questions I get asked fairly frequently or things I've had to address more than once.

✨ Can I tag you in my fics?

Did I ask to be tagged? Then no.💛

(You will be blocked if you do this anyway.)

✨ Can I make fan art of your fics?

My brother in Christ…..we will have a spring wedding.

(Just let me know/tag me/give me credit)

✨ Can I be added to your taglist?

I do not have a taglist. If you would like to be notified on when I post, follow my sideblog ( @sailoraviator-library ) and turn on post notifications. I will ignore requests asking to be put on a taglist from here on out.

✨ Do you have a posting schedule?

Not currently, no.

✨ Can I request something?

Yes! But please keep in mind that I might say no if I'm not interested or comfortable with the topic. Usually, I will send you over to an artist/writer who I think might be able to fulfill your request if I cannot.

✨ You haven't answered my ask/request/questions or updated my favorite story in a while. Why?

While I try to get to requests, sometimes the writing juice just isn't plentiful for an idea. Also, I'm a grown woman with a full time job, friends, family, and other hobbies/obligations outside of this blog. I travel for work which means at any given time, I'm sitting in a hotel room after multiple hours of driving. If I have time, I try to answer everything, but I also have (as of 7.30.24) 94 requests sitting in my inbox, with some from a couple of months ago. Please be patient.

✨ I want to write a story, but it's similar to yours. Is that okay?

Listen, my love, as long as it's not a complete ripoff of one of my stories, I really don't care what you write. You want to write about mermaids? Please do! You want to write about cursed pirates? Go ahead! The nature of AUs is that you are going to use similar tropes for the stories, and the nature of tropes is that you are going to have similarities to stories that use the same ones. There's only so many ways you can write a meet cute in a bar.

✨ Will you promote my fic?

I try to reblog fics I come across, and promote the ones from smaller authors as much as possible. However, that does not mean my blog is a billboard for you to promote your fics on. I was once a small time author, so I know how hard it can be to get your stuff out there. Shoving your work at me is a guaranteed way to get me to NOT read it and actively ignore it in the future.

✨ Why do you have so many WIPs (Works in Progress)? You know you probably won't finish all of those, right?

I do, and that's okay. That's the nature of writing fanfic, unfortunately. Not everything is going to get finished. You also have to understand that just because I haven't touched a story in a month or two doesn't mean it's been abandoned. The writing muses just haven't given me inspiration or motivation to write for it. I will make an announcement and take something off of my masterlist if I have decided to abandon it.

✨ What are some thing I can do to get my writing noticed?

Tag appropriately. I cannot tell you how many people are going to scroll past your writing if you tag a character fic with the actor (for example, tagging a Jake "Hangman" Seresin fic with Glen Powell). In fact, you are more likely to get yourself blocked versus someone reading your fic. Make use of the "Read More" feature on your fics. People are more likely to block you than read your fic if they have to scroll endlessly past your fics. People will find your fics by searching the appropriate tags. Just give it time.

✨ What are some things I should do when posting/writing?

Do NOT write real person fic. It's one thing to write about a character that doesn't exist, it's something else writing about a real life person who will suffer the consequences when people will inevitably mix reality with fiction. How would you feel if someone wrote a story about you where you did all of these things you'd never do?

Put appropriate trigger/content warnings above your fic. If you are going to write about sensitive topics, it is SO important that you warn people before they reach the story. Writing about losing a child, cancer, or sexual behavior? Tag it explicitely so people can filter it. Do not censor your warnings and do not use "angst" as a catch all. Allow people to protect themselves.

✨ I didn't like [insert fic here].

I literally don't care. Telling me you didn't like something instead of scrolling without a hateful comment makes you a loser, actually.

✨ Do you take non-fanfic related questions?

Yes!! I encourage them, actually! Never feel like you can't shoot me an ask that's not related to fanfic or fandom because I love chatting!! Even if you want to chat with me about fics, I'm more than happy to do so!

✨ Who do you write for?

Mainly Top Gun Maverick at the moment, but I might write for other fandoms in the future! I wrote reader inserts, and it’s good to note that my reader inserts are female unless otherwise stated!

This is by no means a comprehensive list, and will be updated as I get more questions!

[kiisuuumii]

@kiisuuumii's writerly questionnaire !

thank you @lead-to-code for tagging (ily kara <33)

i'd love to see yall's answers (only if you'd like to share of course !) @noahsbong @yearning-rambles @thesorcererpoet

about me:

1. when did you first start writing?

i was maybe between seven and nine ? to be honest, i can't really remember when it was, but i remember the first few things i wrote were story quizzes on a (now gone </3) website called quizilla (it was naruto rp....................)

2. are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

not really, now that i actually think about it ! ive always been the type of writer that only liked writing angst, and even outside of writing (fan) fiction (which tbh i dont do very much of anymore), so much of my poetry either comes from heavy emotion or features it so sdghjksd

3. is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

theres one mutual, actually, who i actually wished i could write more like. in a very self-deprecating way, but ive since become very comfortable, and maybe even happy (!), with my style of writing ! so, no, i'm not really looking to emulate anyone in particular, and no one's ever made a comparison between my work and someone else's so no to that one too :0

4. can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (room, coffee shop, desk, etc)

i usually write on my phone, in the notes app or in my drafts here ! and ill usually only write in a (head) space where i can really think, undisturbed, for at least 30-45 mins. so i'll usually be out in my backyard under one of my calamansi trees ! though, lately, ive been occasionally writing at my desk on desktop tumblr :>

5. what's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

fall in love with someone

once i start thinking about how everything around me is alive, i start remembering that i, too, am apart of nature—a lucky enough set of sequenced mutations, to make me—just a eating, breathing, shitting animal. how lucky this set of mutations is to take it all in, the emeralds in the trees, and the beat of a chipmunk's heart, how scared we all are.

that or love

6. did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

people, no, but places, yes. i grew up for most of my childhood in the desert, and i have /always/ hated summers, because i'm kinda heat sensitive, and i sweat easily, and i hate it i hate i hate it djhks

but, a year ago, i moved back home, and, honestly, since being back home, ive come to appreciate the desert a bit more sgkjds i used to think they were ugly and uninteresting, but there's so much more there if you look a bit harder imo

7. are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

honestly !! i think there are plenty obvious ones, but i really wanna talk about /the lack of/ sexual themes in my work !! i wanna write more sexetry or whatever, but it feels really embarrassing to sdghks i really like writing them too, but again !! it just feels embarrassing !! ;w;

my characters:

1. would you please tell me about your current favourite character? (current wip, post wip, never used, etc)

not to copy of kara dskjfs but i love my first (and my current) d&d chara !! her name is maeve umerie, and shes a drow wild magic sorcerer / (planned artillerist) artificer !! shes so packed full of trauma and self-harming behaviors and addictions that i dont even know where to start <33 (i promise i love her i would actually be so devastated if she died before i could give her a proper happy ending </3)

2. which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

i have this fantasy novel thought that ive floated in my head since maybe september-october of last year, and, in it, i have a character named levin hel, and AUGH hes just a sweetie :^( hes the son of a blacksmith-gunsmith duo who know a thing or two about magic, and is the apprentice to the son of the wizard who saved his life (who's name is nox, and he's an asshole ! but also i love him so much ;v;)

i need go go back to all my notes and stuff on it, bc i invested A LOT of time worldbuilding for it, but yea levin's a very kindhearted person, very much wanting to be like nox's father :'''^) </3

3. which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

i would absolutely hate to meet maeve mother. she's horribly self-serving and emotionally manipulative. she rules the house with an iron fist, and anything less than the best is worthless. she uses everything at her disposal to get what she wants, family or not.

4. tell me about the process of coming up with one, all, or any of your characters.

im ngl most if not all of my characters are just bits and pieces of me and my wants in different aus >_> .................................

5. do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

family and/or religious trauma mhm yep

6. how do you picture them? (as real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc)

for my fantasy wip, i imagine imaginary artwork, but for maeve, i have pieces i've drawn and pieces i've commissioned of her !! id love to someday get pieces of her family and other major characters in her past commissioned :>

my writing:

1. what's your reason for writing?

i will say that it's changed over the years. as a kid, and up until college, i've wanted to always be a story-teller. but, lately, i dont really have a reason for writing, other than to satisfy the thing that lives inside me that wants to write :^)

2. is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particular motivating coming from your readers?

knowing other people's reactions, getting to hear how something made them feel emotionally, or physically, or if there was a particular thought or memory that came to mind. i love knowing what people see, what my work makes people see, if anything.

that or if theres something, a word choice, or a line, that you thought was clever or struck you !!! i always love knowing people's thoughts !!!

3. how do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (for example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who "gets" the human condition; as a talented world builder, as a role model, etc)

i want to be thought of just as another person, honestly. someone who had very human emotions, and did the only thing she knew how to do.

4. what do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

uhhhhh im ngl i think this is also my greatest weakness but i have a tedium to my world-building, in that i need history-book-level details of my worlds or i will die (like i drew my own map. i drew a fucking map of an entire contiment)

5. what have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

yk,,,,, no ones given me a whole lot of specifics so im not sure,,,,,

6. how do you feel about your own writing? (answer in whatever way you interpret this question)

i said it before, but im pretty content at the moment with my poetry. though with prose, i think i could probably improve a bit sdgjksg

7. if you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

uh yeah !!!! i write and record voice memos in my journal fully knowing no one will ever read it or listen back right now as it is so !!!!

8. when you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? if it's a mix of the two, which holds most influence?

i gotta be honest, writing is a selfish act for me. i write because i want to, in ways that tickle my fancy dgkjds

it really is almost like an instinct for me

[dododan]

(Un)mortal love - Chapter 1

This is fan fiction from the game Cult of The Lamb. The story is set before Narinder's imprisonment. It will be a romance, or at least it's supposed to be, and how it comes out in practice remains to be seen. The story will focus on Heket and Margo (my OC) and how their relationship developed. It's hard for me to say when the next chapters will be, but I'm working on them.

Forgive me if I make mistakes with Shamura's pronouns, but English is my second language and I'm translating this story myself, so minor errors may sneak in.

"Anura was a place Heket loved from the first moment. She loved strolling its paths along with her older sibling, Shamura. Normally, she would have enjoyed Shamura's offer, but somehow she felt that this walk was different from the previous ones. What does Shamura want to talk to her about?"

Anura was different from the other domains. 

It wasn't as harsh or grim as Silk Cradle. Wherever one looked one saw rocks covered in webs. The bones of enemies fallen centuries ago, or giant rock formations that were home to followers of the God of War. Even if Heket liked a certain creepiness that Shamura's domain spread, she herself wanted something different. A place where her followers would feel safe and comfortable. They could rest in peace, enjoying the beauty of nature. 

Her Land was also not to be as kitschy as Anchordeep, where there were colored crystals everywhere. Maybe the fluorescent plants could look charming at times, but anyone could get disgusted when Kallammar was talking about them all the time. Heket preferred Anura not to be overwhelmed by her wealth. She wanted her to be beautiful, but delicate at the same time, pleasing to the eye. Her land would spread a serenity around it that hid some treasures. 

And Narinder's domain? Well, only he could reside there and the souls, of those who had passed away. Heket always absorbed her elder brother's every word when he talked about his realm. Creamy clouds stretching to the horizon. Immeasurable space to the eye, and light from beyond the horizon that never disappears. He told of red skylights — the souls of the dead — crossing the land and heading towards the horizon to return to The Beginning. The God of Death never revealed to her what happens to the souls when they disappear over the horizon. He only smiled, silently. No matter how hard Heket tried to force the information out of him, whether by asking or provoking, that he himself didn't know what was next. He just smiled and remained silent. Heket would never say it out loud, but she wished, like Narinder, that she could rediscover the beauty of her domain every day. She feared that one day she would get used to those tall trees, covered with different species of mushrooms. To that captivating smell of flowering herbs in the high grass. To that lush vegetation in shades of red, orange, and brown. She would like to always feel the pride she feels now, walking through Her Anura. 

Anura that has finally fully formed. Looking at her land, she still remembers the feeling of excitement when Shamura took her here for the first time. Back then, the place was no different from the usual green forests that covered the rest of Bishop's lands. The land had changed over hundreds of years under the influence of Heket's divinity. The landscape was slowly changing, forming. Shamura usually said that places of worship responded to the powers of the gods and shaped themselves as their powers developed. 

Heket glanced at her older sibling. They were walking together with Shamura in the warm light of the morning. The God of War walked beside her in complete silence, with his serious face. Shamura may have been strict at times, but Heket knew that beneath that mask, there was a caring and loving spider. She knew they cared for her, but this uncertainty was beginning to stress Heket out. This walk was different from the previous one. 

It was Shamura who invited Heket to this walk. They wanted to talk to them alone, although Heket was not sure how Shamura understood this concept. Although, a group of a couple of Shamura's followers were a few meters behind them, and they had no chance to hear their conversation, still Heket was uncomfortable. Would her followers also follow her like a shadow? 

A shudder went through her at that thought. She liked being the center of attention, but she also cherished moments of alone time. She hoped that when she finally became a complete god and bishop, she would find time for herself. She didn't really believe Shamura's words that, as a goddess, she would have to devote all her time to her followers and maintaining harmony. After all, even Shamura was finding time to read books or spend an evening with the rest of their siblings. It couldn't be as terrible as Shamura described, after all, they were the gods. The last sentence belonged to them. 

Heket felt an unpleasant sensation in her stomach. She might have enjoyed these walks with her siblings, but today the silence was killing her. She preferred to get to the point rather than agonize further. Better to do it quickly so that it hurts as little as possible. 

— So, what did you want to talk about? — Heket asked, trying not to let her voice tremble. She didn't want to appear nervous in front of her siblings or continue to be seen as a child by them. 

— Anura surprises more and more every day — Shamura stated, stopping for a moment. 

They could see the young frog was getting annoyed. Heket plucked at a scrap of her coat with the tips of her fingers, not really knowing how to respond to the comment. It wasn't a very good habit, as it immediately betrayed her nervousness. Shamura sent her younger sister an encouraging smile. Heket tucked her hands deeper into her black cloak, straightening slightly. Her shoulders were no longer as tense as before. The God of War made a mental note to help their sister get rid of this habit. Her future followers must not see her indecision or worries. They might see it as a weakness, and Shamura must not let anyone take advantage of it. A small moment of inattention, could cost a lot. Even if they are gods and mere mortals can't hurt them too much physically, it doesn't mean they can't inflict emotional wounds. 

Shamura picked one of the orange-yellow flowers from the nearest branch. She looked at it carefully, admiring its luscious colors. They turned towards their younger sister, extending their hands towards her. They gently captured her hands in their own. 

— Anura has great potential — said Shamura, with their third hand, setting Heket's flower by the crown. Her eye was still closed, indicating that the true power of the crown was still asleep. Heket hadn't yet had her awakening as a goddess.

— It hides a beauty that cannot be found anywhere else. — Shamura placed their third hand on her sister's shoulder and gently touched her cheek with the fourth. — This place has your strength. We can feel it in every bit of this land. — Shamura pointed with their hand to the surrounding forest. Mighty trees towered above them, and the sun's rays shone through the leaves. — Even though you rarely acknowledge it, your willingness to care is evident in this place. Your gentleness and care for others, sister. — Heket felt herself start to blush from these compliments. Shamura rarely complimented someone openly like this. Slightly abashed, she lowered her head, avoiding Shamura's gaze. They only laughed lightly. They liked to tease their sister sometimes. — Nothing to be ashamed of. — The God of War bent down, trying to look her sister in the eye. With one of her hands, they lifted her chin. — These are qualities that are more than desirable in a god. 

— But I'm not a god yet. — Heket said weakly. — I'm just learning. — She really wanted to escape the gaze of her older sibling. In another situation, she would have been happy to receive such attention, but now she wasn't sure where the conversation was going. It promised to be another conversation about how she would be a great god, but for now she must wait. She hated these conversations. She felt a sting in her heart. She wanted so much to be like the rest of her siblings. 

— Still, that's the key word, my dear sister,- Shamura said, straightening up. She smiled, as if with pride in their eyes. Heket stared at her older sibling, feeling more confused than before. 

— Is this another of the conversations about the philosophical meaning of time and its perception? — asked Heket with a little timidity. 

Shamura only laughed pearly. Out of the corner of her eye, Heket noticed how most of the followers shuddered. It must have been a rare sight indeed for them, for the usually serious and reasonable God of War to laugh so freely. Only one follower, did not flinch. 

— Not this time, but if you're willing? — shrugged Shamura's shoulders, continuing to smile. 

— No! — Heket said quickly, before her older sibling began to lecture. Only after a moment did she realize that she had acted like a child by raising her voice like that. — I'm sorry,- she added, lowering her head. 

Shamura looked at their younger sister, seeing her frowning. They found it heartwarming that Heket was so reluctant to offend them. They put their hand on their sister's head, like when she was a child. Though to Shamura, Heket would always remain the little frog they met on their journey. A brave yet frightened child. Now a mature woman, she was soon to begin a new phase of her path. 

— There is still a lot of learning ahead of you. There are still many things that need your attention. — Shamura said calmly. Heket felt herself shrinking inside. — Taking on the role of Bishop will help you understand them. 

Heket immediately raised her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She stared at Shamura, wondering if it was a dream or a bad joke. A dream it certainly wasn't, and the God of War would never stoop to such a cruel joke. Maybe if Narinder had said it, but then she would have heard Leshy's laughter, hidden somewhere in the nearby bushes. However, nothing of the sort was happening. 

— Really? — She asked, wanting to make sure. She felt excitement growing inside her. Shamura saw a glint in their sister's eyes. 

— You are ready, Heket — Shamura said. 

Heket's biggest dream was becoming a reality. She will be just like her older siblings. She will be a god and do what they do. She couldn't stop herself. She immediately hugged her older sibling without stopping laughing. Shamura froze for a moment. They had hoped their sister would react enthusiastically to the news, but not so much. Shamura sighed. They returned their younger sister's hug. This reaction was even better than they thought. 

The God of War had given their younger sister as much time as they needed to calm down. They also didn't want Heket to get tense. She had become very careful in their relationships lately. Shamura knew that she didn't want to let them down, but that would never happen. No matter what Heket would do, Shamura was always proud of her. 

— Remember that you are wonderful, Heket — Shamura said, pulling away from her sister. — You will be an amazing god and never doubt it. 

— Fine,- said Heket, still smiling. If Shamura had said so, it must have been true. Everyone may have had some visions of the future, but it was Shamura who had the most talent in it. It was their visions that were the clearest and most detailed. If they saw something, it had to happen. 

— We have a month to go. I have already asked Kallamar to take care of preparing your temple,- Shamura said as she continued walking. Heket was so happy about her awakening as a goddess that she could even turn a blind eye to Kallamar's help. At least she wouldn't have to deal with it. Decorations were not her fable. They were superfluous and unpractical. She preferred the current minimalist decor of her temple, but her awakening was a not far off event. Maybe a few decorations wouldn't be so bad. — Just please no brawling, okay? 

— I'll be polite, the rest is not my responsibility. 

— At least that's it,- Shamura said. They were silent for a moment, wondering what else they should tell her sister. — The preparation of the followers or other small matters will be taken care of by me and Narinder. You don't have to worry about Leshy either, we'll keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't destroy anything.  And most importantly,- Shamura said, folding her hands. — During the ceremony, you will give your first sermon and demonstrate your power. You will discover your calling as a god and your future duties,- Shamura explained further. 

Unfortunately, Heket no longer paid much attention to their words. She was very excited. She was very curious about who she was going to be. She had a certain feeling that her powers would be connected to the earth, as she had long been sensitive to its vibrations. She was also extremely strong and resilient. Kallamar and Narinder had also acknowledged this when she had trained with them recently. 

— Heket - said Shamura, a little more sharply. They had the feeling that their sister had drifted off somewhere with her thoughts. The future goddess blushed slightly in embarrassment. She muttered a silent apology, this time listening carefully to her older sibling. — Well. As I said. Your first solo appearance in front of the followers is extremely important, because it determines how they will perceive you. From the very beginning, you have to show your devotees that you are worthy to lead them, but you also have to show your strength so that they never doubt you. — Although Shamura spoke calmly, Heket felt the excitement giving way. With every word from her older sibling, she felt a lump grow in her throat. — You can always come to us if you need help with a sermon. But I'm sure you'll handle it brilliantly and dazzle everyone. 

Shamura decided that this one time they could afford to get emotional. It was hard for them to let go of old habits, but they knew how significant it was for their younger siblings to show their emotions openly to each other. They hugged their sister. 

— I know you can handle it - they said, pulling away from Heket. Their younger sister stood still, just staring at them. Apparently, Shamura must have surprised them with this reaction, or Heket was already thinking about the preparations for the first ceremony. — Forgive me now, sister. But I must get back to my duties. 

Heket only mutely nodded, gazing at Shamura. She watched her older sibling join their followers. They all followed Shamura faithfully, listening to what the God of War had to say. They were probably preaching her next wisdom to them. Though, Heket's gaze, was caught by another follower. She stood too far away for her to see who it was specifically. She got the impression that the follower bowed to her and then ran after Shamura. 

Heket found this strange, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. She had worse things on her mind than strange followers. Shamura didn't seem to notice her nervousness, or at least that when Heket heard about the sermon. After all, she had never written a sermon. 

She had no idea how she was supposed to make her sermon inspire the followers to believe in her divinity? How was she to check that they would both admire her, but also respect or fear her power? Shamura believes in her, but will she be able to live up to the expectations of her siblings? 

Will her sermon be as wise and message-bearing as Shamura's sermons? 

Will she manage to show her power and inspire them like Narinder? 

Will she be able to speak as flowery as Kallamar? 

Heket felt a strange tightening in her stomach. Like a cramp she hadn't experienced before. She couldn't exactly describe it. She took a deep breath. She counted to ten to calm her emotions. Just as Kallamar had taught her. A warrior, she must not be nervous. She must keep her nerves in check so as not to give the enemy the upper hand. 

— It won't be so bad — Heket said aloud, trying to comfort herself. 

If her siblings are doing the sermons, why shouldn't she be able to handle it? She's not alone with this. Besides, she still has plenty of time. The ceremony is only a month away. She can deal with it later. 

I'd be delighted if you wrote what you thought of the story! I would love to hear your opinions^^

[xx-slug-xx]

This is kind of late, but about your post regarding people in the proship community who exclusively ship ONLY "problematic" pairings: FWIW, in my experience these types of people have turned out to just be antis who are trying to ~ InFiLtRaTe ~ proship spaces (their sad attempts to screenshot things to either share with their puritanical little fascist anti friends, or gather "evidence" for callout posts) most of the time. I'd say around 90% of cases are this, based on what myself and many of my other friends have seen firsthand.

But for the record, it might be worth noting that there's some cases where this is completely genuine and it's entirely legitimate. I have a friend who really enjoys the big sister/little brother genre specifically (so, they don't really engage with big brother/little sister stuff) so all of their favorite ships just happen to be "incest ships" by virtue of that. They certainly didn't pick and choose exclusively incest ships on purpose, if that makes sense? And it follows that if a person is a very big fan of lolisho, then all of their ships have a high chance of being age gap ships or minor/minor ships, just as a side effect. I very much doubt that anyone who takes genuine enjoyment from their ships that happen to be "problematic" went out of their way to select problematic things on purpose.

You’ve made a pretty good point anon! And I’ve had a few people share some similar things too about that post!

I can’t really explain why, but I can usually tell when it’s a bait account made by an anti or not. And again, I can’t explain why, and its not always accurate. But the vibe is off putting in some strange way when it’s a clear bait account. But I do run accost the ones who aren’t bait, and the vibe is different. It feels too forced when antis do it. When it’s genuine, it’s more natural.

A few people explained that a good reason why there’s so many genuine blogs that are like this is due to it being something like a side blog where the user feels safe expressing their more “problematic” ships. Which is absolutely valid imo. Antis are vile and I’m not surprised that people are “secret proshippers”. But it honestly doesn’t solve the bigger problem at hand. I think more people should be publicly proship and comship so that we can all stand for our beliefs. Justice doesn’t come from sitting in silence. Revolution doesn’t come from hiding in the shadows (though, let’s be real here, fandom is not all that comparable to issues in the real world, but I hope you get my analogy regardless lol). I really think that there’s a good reason so many people are secretly proship, but at the same time, it doesn’t really solve much :/

Plus, like you said, a lot of it comes down to coincidence too! If people like something in fiction, then they have a right to express themselves. If someone is drawn more towards a certain type of pairing, then they still have that right! Doesn’t really matter if it “problematic” or not!

[multiversxwhore]

☾☾☾Hello! Hope you enjoy what you’re about to read, I would appreciate if you like, and reblog my work here on tumblr. Please do not share my work anywhere else, and if you see it has been, or someone is claiming the work as their own please tell me. My master list is pinned to my page if you wish to see more! ☽☽☽

*a/n: I know I’ve been only one posting on Wednesdays so far, believe me there’s still something coming next week as scheduled. But this story came to me late at night when I was trying to push out a Kang The Conqueror fic. Then I fell down the rabbit hole of Jonathan Majors fan fiction( @miyuhpapayuh ) and here we are

Pt. 1

Judith liked things to be simple, easy, and peaceful. She liked sitting outside in the summertime, feeling the breeze caress her skin, and the sun bless her by turning her almond skin into a deep honey. In all her time working for Mary in her saloon, she never experienced much excitement. Except for the occasional bar fights amongst only the drunkest of men, but usually Mary did all the heavy lifting. Things didn’t start to get too hectic in her life until she met him, and any woman with good sense wouldn’t have gotten involved with Nat Love. Let’s just say, Judith Pierre didn’t have good sense.

“One whisky.” Nat took a seat at the bar, he wore a long brown leather coat, and a scarlet red bandanna around his neck. His hat sat low on his head as if he didn’t want to be seen, he travelled far for this lead. He had been sitting on that stool for around an hour, watching, and plotting. He Didn’t want to scare his prey away before he had a chance to drink.

“Sure thing sir, once you take that hat off.” Judith spoke politely as she whipped down the old wooden bar top with a rag. He hadn’t paid any mind to the woman behind the bar initially, but her accent was something he’d had not heard before, somewhat southern, yet foreign.

“Since when did Mary have rules on hats?” He sighed turning in his seat, he paused upon seeing the woman behind the old bar. He’s seen plenty of pretty ladies, but this one was different.

“She doesn't, but since I run the bar, I set the rules. Now I don’t mind serving you, that hat has to go, I treat all customers the same.” Judith doesn’t know who this man was, he walked in like he owned the place, his steps slow, and purposeful. He weaved his way through the crowded saloon like a snake cutting through grass.

“What if I don’t like your rule?” He asked playfully, he watched as she pressed her lips together, an attempt to keep a smile that threatened to spread onto her mouth.

“Well then you can not like it from outside.” He liked how quick she was, never hesitated to respond, and she was brave. Most women don’t dare speak to men this way, but not this little lady.

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you little miss.” Nat smirked, from his peripheral he could see a man watching the two of them from his spot in the shadows of the bar.

“Yea what about it?” She rebuttals quickly, Judith doesn’t flirt with strangers often, but he naturally drew it out of her without much effort.

“I’m Nat, Nat Love.” He took the hat off, and placed it on the stool next to him. Finally getting a good look at the spitfire of a woman.

“That’s some name, well Nat Love, I’m Judith. Sometimes my friends call me JP.”

“JP?”

“Judith Pierre.”

“Hmm, isn’t that last name French?”

“Mmhm c'est vrai monsieur l'amour.” She poured him up that glass of whiskey he had asked for with a small smirk on her pouty lips. “Have you ever been?” Judith asked, she leaned her hip against the bar, and ruled a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Where?” He asked, and he took another sip of the brown liquor.

“France.” She mocked the thick French accent she heard from her father many times as a child, her heart felt heavy at the thought of him. He passed away when she was 15 years old, leaving her with her mother, a house too large for a negro woman to have owned.

“Mmm, no, can’t say I have. But I’ve met some French men before, they sounded a little like you. They also had rules, funny enough.” Nat remembered exactly how that ‘meeting’ went down, he ended up shooting them all, and killing them.

Slowly, a warm smile spread across her lips. Nat began to wonder what she was smiling about, maybe a memory crossed her mind? He’s now interested in this woman, but he couldn’t abandon his mission.

His eyes swept across the saloon as he gulped down the alcohol, there was no site of the man he was looking for, and he had already checked the perimeter of the place. He was out of luck, but at least he had a pretty lady to make him feel better. “So you speak it as well, is one of your parents from there?”

“My father was, his daddy was a slave owner, but when my papa laid eyes on my mama, they said it was love at first sight. Then they ran away together.” There was a sparkle in her chocolate brown eyes, a man could get lost in them if he weren’t too careful. Nat found himself hypnotised, unable to look away, and quite frankly he didn’t want to.

He leaned his elbows against the old wood, he paused for a moment watching her service some customers, and then asked, “Do you believe in that? Love at first sight?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, I’ve never been in love to know what it feels like.” Judith wasn’t quite sure why she was telling all of her personal business to a stranger, but he wasn’t doing much talking himself. It made her feel compelled to share since she had an audience.

“Lies, I do not believe you.” He chuckled deeply, his lips stretching into a bright smile making him appear more youthful.

“What! I do not lie.” She gasped, one hand pressed to her chest her eyebrows creased, and as she threw her towel down which pulled a deep chuckle from him.

“See! You just lied again, everybody lies Judy.” Nat didn’t mean to do it, the nickname just slipped past his lips. The two just met and already Nat had given her a nickname, she liked it, but she wasn’t sure if she liked it because it was a nice name. Or if it was because he had been the one to give it to her.

“Listen, you don’t have to believe me, but I’m telling the truth. I’ve chalked it up to the fact that I’m not easily impressed, and I cut it off before my time is wasted.”

“Hmm, you run a tight ship.” He hummed, their conversation had died down momentarily, and though there was no reason for Nat to still be there, he stayed planted on his stool watching Judith.

“That I do.” She sighed heavily to herself, he tapped the rim of his glass, so she kindly poured him up another drink. When he looked away, she took a good look at the stranger, Nat Love is the most fine looking man that’s ever walked into the saloon. His skin tone is a rich, deep chocolate brown, full lips, large muscular build, and big hands. Judith bit her lip at the thought of what those hands would feel like wrapped around her thighs. Yes, Nat Love was fine indeed.

“JP, Miss Mary got a job for ya.” Bill Picket came strolling towards the bar, his mood calming as usual. She liked that about him, he took his time, thought things through, and always knew the perfect timing to draw his gun. Bill’s made a few passes at Judith in the past, they tried it for a while, but their relationship never made it past friends. It stung him to know that his feelings about her weren’t reciprocated, but he was a man about the rejection. Still he longed for her in the background.

“How you doin Bill?” She greeted in a sweet voice, Nat sat quietly interested in their conversation. He noticed the way the other man looked at her, like she was the moon in the sky.

“A whole lot better now, look here Judith, you got a new customer in Mister Hugh Powell.” He slid a small piece of paper with some hand writing scribbled on it over the bar top to Judith.

“Aw hell, not him again, tell Mary I said no.”

“Got yourself to blame, you put all your love into them pies, now the man is addicted.” Bill teased, his eyes grew soft, they lingered over her lips, Judith looked over to Nat who was already watching the two of them. Embarrassed, she coughed, pushed herself off the counter, and survived two men who had been waiting long enough for her service.

“Can’t he buy pies from somewhere else? Doesn’t he got a wife?” Judith asked, she knew the answer, but she was hoping to weasel her way out of this. Any excuse would suffice for her.

“Now you know that white woman ain’t baking like you, hell JP no woman is baking like you.” Bill proclaimed, this was a huge statement to make considering Nat knew for sure Bill hadn’t had every woman’s food to compare.

Nat snorted at that, if it wasn’t obvious before Bill was head over hills, it is now, he turned to Bill with his hand out. “Pardon me, I’m Nat Love by the way. That tickled me a little, I don’t mean to intrude on the conversation, but if this man is such a nuisance, why not stop delivering to him?” Bill shook the man’s hand, he matched his grip evenly, and when his eyes laid upon the cross cut into Nat’s forehead, a shiver ran down his spine.

“You don’t just stop doing what white men want you to do, unless you want to be lynched.” Judith shook her head, the last thing she wanted was a bounty on her head.

“Could just kill’em.” Nat shrugged nonchalantly, it was a harsh way to go about things, but it’s kept him alive all this time.

“The hell is wrong with you? You can’t go killing a man for no reason, let alone a white one. Tell Mary I’ll take the job, and that I’ll be gone for about a week and a half like usual.” She breathed heavily, as she leaned against the bar, Bill nodded his head, and gave Nat a weary glance as he took his leave.

Silence fell between the two once again, she didn’t want him to leave just yet, he was fighting himself. Telling himself that he shouldn’t be here any longer, that he should be continuing the job the Marshall sent him on. But on the other hand Nat Love wanted this woman, he couldn’t put his finger on why, or how he became so enthralled in such a small amount of time. The band began to play something slow, and romantic. He turned to look at the beautiful woman in front of him, he might not ever see this flower again. Mine as well enjoy it.

“Dance with me Judy.” Nat said as softly as he could muster, his hand outstretched towards her.

“Don’t you see me tending to the bar?” Men usually didn’t make her feel shy, but he was so confident with his words. It encouraged her to meet him at least half way.

“Ain’t nobody at this bar but me and you.” The corners of his lips twitched upwards, he wiggled his fingers at her playfully.

“You won’t let me say no will you?” Judith rolled her eyes, but left from behind the bar anyway, she wasn’t doing a very good job at playing coy at this moment. She all but skipped her way to him, in somewhat of a rush to see what transpired between them next.

“It’s almost as if you know me well.” From behind the bar they were able to see each other eye to eye, but when she stepped down the three steps attached to the bar, Judith was cut down a whole foot. What she lacked in height, she made up for in curves, and that she did have.

“My eyes are up here sir.” She said halfheartedly, though she really didn’t mind it.

“Not much up there shorty.” Nat said playfully, rolling her eyes at his comment, she took his hand anyway, and let him pull her onto the dance floor.

“C’Mon now, I’m just messing with you.” Nat took her by the hand, he liked the feel of her soft hands, felt like she’s never worked a day in her life. A woman this pretty should never have to lift a finger, his attraction to her threw him off. He usually liked his woman a bit more ‘rough’ , someone who’s not afraid to get dirty.

“You know my offer still stands, I don’t mind putting a bullet through anyone that deserves it.” His hand was placed on her lower back keeping her close to him, and his other hand held hers close to his chest.

“It’s not right to play God Nat Love.”

“Oh, I’m not playing God, I’m playing the second in command. The Devil.” He whispered, his head lowered so he could speak into her ear, his lips brushing against her. Judith shouldn’t have let it go any further than where it was right now, she should have just stopped herself. Pulled away, and called this man crazy. That’s exactly what kept her coming back, Nat Love’s unflinching will to cause chaos, and rain hellfire upon those that do wrong. His passion sparked something in her she never knew she had.

His eyes flickered to her lips, he knew he could just take her and get away with it, but he wanted her to make the first move.

From the bar Bill watched Judith, and Nat hold each other like they’ve done it a million times before. Her hands wrapped around his neck, his around her waist, and even though the song had changed to something more fast paced, they still swayed slowly.

“You gone let another man up on your woman like that?” Jim Buckworth: a loudmouth, arrogant, fancy shooter, slid onto the stool next to him. That was the last thing Bill wanted to hear, it’s not like Jim would take a hint at Bill wanting to be alone, so he didn’t fuss.

“She’s not my woman Jimmy, we’ve been over this.” Bill said tiredly, Nat looked more dazed than anything; it’s Judith’s doing, most if not all men became drunk on her. Bill’s never been able to quite pinpoint which part of her caused this. Maybe it was the way she always smelled like honey, or the way her voice soothed you. Whichever it was, kept the men, and sometimes women coming back.

“You’re a dangerous man Nat Love, I don’t get myself involved with bloodhounds.” If they weren’t in such close proximity of each other he wouldn’t have heard a word she said just now.

“Then why are you still talkin’ to me?” A playful grin on his lips, just then a breeze from outside swept through the saloon. The smell of her natural musk wafted through his nose, his eyes dropped down to her exposed cleavage to see the then layer of sweat between her large breast.

“This how you get tips from men?” He asked, his lips pulled back into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s how I’m gonna get a tip out of you.” She purred in a tone that was even unrecognisable to her, Nat’s eyes lit up with titillation.

“You keep working me up like this, you’re gonna get more than just a tip Miss Judy.”

“We’ll see about that lover boy.” Judith pulled away from him ending their dance, she gracefully turned, and walked off towards the stairs that led to the comfort rooms. Nat stood, and watched her leave, her whips swaying teasingly. He told himself he shouldn’t get involved with Judith, that he’d just end up tainting her. She had a good heart, but he just couldn’t help himself, one night wouldn’t hurt. He’d just get it out of his system, then it’d be back to the road the next morning.

He followed after her, straight up the stairs, and at the very end of the hall, a door was cracked open. The closer he got he could see Judith standing by the bed reaching for the strings at the back of her dress.

Just when she thought her fun was over, a soft tap on her door made her heart jump. “Looks like I get that tip after all.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

Judith grabbed him by the face and brought him down to her causing their lips to crash together in a heated kiss. Nat pushed her back into the room, kicked the door closed behind her, and picked her up in his strong arms. He sat her on the dresser, he led sloppy kisses down her neck to her chest. The sweat still on her skin, glistening under the light of the room. He licked his tongue between the crevices of her breast tasting the salty flavor.

“Fuck.” She breathed out, his grip on her was tight, if she wanted to run she couldn’t. Truth be told, the strength Nat held over her turned her on even more. The men she’s slept with in the past were either too rough, or not rough enough. He was right in the middle and it was perfect.

“I was wondering if you tasted as good as you looked.” His free hand crept up her leg, and underneath her dress. Gently she messaged the inner over her thighs, he was pleasantly surprised to find how squishy they were. Judith Perrier is the daintiest woman he’s ever met, a stark contrast to his roughness.

“Yea, did you find your what you lookin’ for, or do you need a second taste?” Her voice husky and low, he breathed through her mouth, before Nat had a chance to answer, Judith was already lifting her leg all the back. Her foot touched the wall behind her, a Cheshire grin stretched across her face as he watched Nat admire her naked body beneath all the layers. Her other leg rested on his strong shoulder, his hands came to her hips, and slightly pulled her forward.

He ducked his head between her thighs, his tongue swiped up from her slick entrance to her pink clit. Her back arched, Judith reached for his head and held onto it for dear life. She tried her best to contain her moans, but she couldn’t hold in her cries as his thick lips wrapped around her small bud, and began to suckle it.

“Goddamn, please don’t stop.” She cried out, on the verge of finally releasing herself after so long, she needed it. Doing it herself just wasn’t cutting it anymore, the feeling of a man she was actually attracted to, and actually knew how to please her. It was more than what she could have asked for.

“Fuck I’m so close.” She whispers to herself out of breath, her heart pounding against her rib cage. Her clit pulsed once, twice, and right before her core could tighten up someone's fist pounded on the door. Followed by a bossy voice, and an attitudinal tone that could have put any man in the ground.

“Judith! I know yo ass ain’t in here fuckin’ when you got pies, and cakes to bake!” Stagecoach Mary, always with her perfect timing.

“Uh oh, looks like your mamma caught us.” Nat joked as he pulled himself from beneath Judith’s dress. His forehead lined with sweat, he licked his lips savouring her flavor.

“Fuck you.” She whispered harshly, like the gentleman he was, Nat helped her down off the dresser. With his free hand he caressed her cheek, his eyes lingering on her.

“Today Judith.” Mary tapped at the door again impatiently.

“We will finish this.” Nay whispered in her ear, they pulled away from each other, Judith took in a deep breath and pulled the door open.

“I’m a grown woman Mary.” She mumbled, but Judith couldn’t meet Mary’s blazing gaze.

“You’ve got work to be done, please see to it.” Mary spoke with clinched teeth, she looked over Judith to Nat who stood quietly with his head turned away from her.

Once Judith was out of earshot Mary took a step closer to Nat, he towered over her, but he didn’t intimidate her. She’s never met a man that did.

“Judith is a good woman, I don’t want you around her no mo Nat.”

“Occupying Miss Pierre time was unintentional, it just happened.”

“You can spew that bullshit, and flash that grin of yours all you want, but that don’t work on me. Now take your shit, and don’t come back here.”

“Alright, I’ll go, but what you not gone do is talk to me like some dog Mary.”

“That’s what you act like, a hound, always on a trail. Always putting your nose where it don’t belong.”

“You ain’t seen the dog in me yet.” Nat pushed past Marry, made his way down the hallway, and down the steps. He walked over to the bar where his hat now sat on the bar top, Judith wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Bill watched Nat from his spot in the back of the Saloon, he didn’t like this ‘Nat Love’ not one bit. He knew men like him were nothing but trouble.

After collecting his guns, and weapons, Nat stepped outside. There she was talking to his stallion in a soothing voice, her hand gently rubbed his nose, and with the other hand she scratched behind his ear.

“You know yo ass is not supposed to be out here.” Nat sighed, he really hate arguing with Mary, both their tempers are explosive. It was exhausting.

“I couldn’t let you go without a little something extra for your travels.” Judith took a step closer, there was a respectable distance between them, but he didn’t know how much long he’d have to fight himself.

“Do you make natural sacks for all your guests?”

“No…just the ones with big appetites.”

“Is that right?” Nat takes the leather satchel from her hands, his finger grazing her wrist as he holds her gaze. He could still taste her on his tongue, he could kick himself right now, he never should have made conversation with her. How could he have known this is how things would have turned out?

“Well that’s just sweet of ya, didn’t have to do that. Hmm, listen, you be careful on your trip tomorrow you hear?” He had a bad feeling settling down in the pit of his gut, he didn’t want to let her do this assignment on her own, but he already promised Mary that he wouldn’t be causing more trouble.

“I’ll be fine, my customers are usually lonely older men.” She chuckled lightly, her foot dig into the dirt, and her bottom lip billed between her teeth.

“That’s the problem Judy.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take Bill, the finest gunman I know.”

“That’s cus you haven’t seen me shoot yet.” Nat smiled haughtily, Judith giggled, her hand pressed to her lips, and the other across her chest. He just smiled and watched her, without warning he pulled her by the waist, and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss made her feel hotter than the sun, hunger rippled through her as she kissed back. His tongue pressed into her mouth again dominating her in a way she’d never argue about, and just like that he pulled away.

“I– She opened her mouth to speak, but she wasn’t even sure what else to say.

Nat turned to pack the food away she’d given him, hopped on his horse, and rode off as quickly as possible. Judith was left standing breathless, shocked, and wanting more. She turned to try and sneak her way back into the saloon, but Mary was already standing out front, a disappointed look on her face.

“Do you ever listen?” Mary leaned against the entry of the saloon, her arms folded, and her head tilted to one side. Mary, and Judith were close in age, however, Mary took it upon herself to ‘protect’ Judith.

“Do you ever stay out my business?” Judith rolled her eyes, she sighed heavily, she knew she shouldn’t have pressed Mary like this, but Judith is’ in the mood at this moment.

“You live, eat, bathe, and now fuck for free under my roof. Your business is my business, that man is no good, and it’d behove you to move forward and don’t look back.” Mary loved Judith like a sister, all she wanted to do was protect her the best she could. Nat Love wasn’t the worst thing out there, but he attracts darkness wherever he goes.

“Yea, so you keep reminding me how much better you are than me.” Judith pressed her lips together, her eyes stung from unshed tears.

“Judith, I don’t have time for your nonsense, or your tears, now you’ve got an order to fill. Get to it.”

She inhaled deeply trying to suck up the emotions that threatened to break free from her, “Yessah boss.” She mocked, walked past Mary, and back into the saloon. Bill had heard the whole thing, he wanted to console her, but the scowl on her face was warning enough.

After riding a few miles away from the town he stopped his horse, sat in the middle of the road, and thought for a moment about the events that transpired tonight. He looked back and forth between the road ahead, and behind him.

“C’mon man, you’ve got work to do, you can’t just chase around some beautiful stranger.” He spoke to himself, that’s when he remembered the satchel she had given him. He opened the leather, instantly the smell of fresh bread, and sweet jams filled his nostrils. He pulled a hand sized pastry out of its individual wrapping, the top was golden brown, and when he bit into it. The bread crunched between his teeth, then the flavor of tart berries hit him, the inside still warm, and gooey.

“Oh my lord.” He whispered, his heart was filled with the joy he hasn’t had the luxury of feeling in years. It reminded him of his mothers cooking when he was a boy, Nat was at an utter loss for words.

“Fuck it.” He dusted off his hands, closed the leather bag, and started back towards the town in a hurry. Nat knew there’s no way in hell he was letting this one go.

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Author's Note:  I live for tsundere, inexperienced, pining Dabi. Mans is emotionally constipated, touch starved, and super unfamiliar with love but I adore him for it. BNHA smash showed us that he's super dense and has 0 rizz.

Warnings/Tags: Stockholm syndrome, eventual smut, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, canon typical violence, threats, arson, minor character deaths, death, injury, blood, suggestive for a second

Abbreviation Guide: Y/n (your name), e/c (eye color), f/c (favorite color)

Word Count: 1K

Chapter Four: You're A Witch

It’s the next day and he finds himself in your room again. You’re in the process of healing the burns left over from yesterday. He seems to be in his own world, but so are you.  The silence between the two of you isn’t awkward. Somehow, it's comfortable. It makes the process of healing him calming.

You enthralled him, infuriatingly enough. You were just such a strange person to him, he couldn’t understand why you treated everyone around him like a person, especially him. Even despite your situation, as a captive, you treated most of the league as people. He couldn’t decide if you were dense for putting up with it, intelligent for being obedient, or if you simply pitied them. Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny that he benefited from your presence. Your quirk starved off a lot of his burns and the thought of your cold, healing hands all over him after a shitty mission was enough to let the thought of you pitying him slide. 

Speaking of your hands, he hates how weak your touch makes him. Your feather-light touches are cruel to him. He sees himself as a bastard creation, a seething villain who craves only revenge, but you touch him as if he’s made of glass. Gentleness is something he was never granted, especially not growing up. It’s strange, foreign even, but not entirely unwelcome. He just can’t figure out why it frustrates him so much.

You notice some of his staples are out of place and the burns are spread much farther than usual. He must have gotten into quite the tussle yesterday. You never ask how he gets some of the injuries unrelated to his quirk, not wanting to know the details. You choose blissful ignorance. It’s easier to survive if you just ignore the nature of their activities. 

There’s some raw skin and loose staples on his face. Your cool hands grace his cheeks as you murmur a soft apology, warning him of the discomfort to come. You reaffix his staples into place. He’s so used to the action that it fails to incite a wince. He closes his eyes as your palms cup his face. The telltale coldness of your quirk soothes his skin and rebuilds the damage his quirk inflicted. You catch onto how relaxed and serene he looks in this moment. He seems to enjoy the sensation of your quirk, unlike most others. 

You retract your hands once his skin has smoothed over. There’s an urge to release a light laugh upon noticing his slightly disappointed expression. “No need to be disappointed, we’re not done yet,” you tease. 

From where you are, you’re able to discern a light pink flush on his cheekbones. He averts his eyes from you and responds with a ‘tch’. You let out the chuckle you were holding back. Your laughter sounds airy and musical to him, even if it’s slightly at his expense at this moment. The realization makes him burn in a way that’s unfamiliar to him. 

You shift your focus to the burns on his palms. Your quirk begins to wash over that skin. The relief he feels at your contact is immediate. But your icy skin doesn’t quell the warmth he feels. You’re so close to him and he’s suddenly so aware of it. He can make out every tiny scar you’ve endured, every soft curve to your face, every dimension of color in your e/c eyes. He’s staring but nothing could bring him to look away. Internally, he cringes at his next thought. You’re beautiful to him.

You continue your work, guiding your hands up his wrist and carefully gliding over his staples. It’s tortuous, how slowly your hands rake up his arms. You don’t notice how his breath hitches, something he’s thankful for. He’d hate the questioning that would come from your inquisitive eyes. What you do notice, however, are the burns along his collarbones. It’s hard to see the extent of the wounds with his shirt in the way. You break the silence with a request, “I can heal the burns on your chest, but your shirt is sorta in the way. Do you mind taking it off or pulling it to the side?”

Dabi complies, taking off his white v-neck shirt and discarding it next to him. He feels vulnerable in front of you, a feeling that was once long forgotten to him. You are such a witch for being able to stir such buried emotions in him. Your eyes drinking in his form drive him out of his sulking. He knows your gaze right now is clinical, but he can’t help but feel flustered that you’re seeing so much of him.

If his heartbeat wasn’t erratic before, it certainly is now. Cold fingers trace over the burns on his collarbone. His breath hitches at the contact. The sensation of your touch sends goosebumps down his body. As your hands trace closer to his neck, he stiffens. It’s an attempt to suppress the shiver your touch elicits. He finds it strange. His body feels hotter than normal so it’s not the temperature of your hands making him feel this way. Rather, just your touch alone sends shudders down his spine. What is this magic you’ve cursed him with?

“Looks like theres no more burns. You’re all fixed up,” you conclude. You pack up the medical supplies and stow them away while Dabi redresses himself. Your fingers feel incredibly stiff and cold. You’re toeing a dangerous line with your quirk. “Hey, would you mind telling the others I’ve reached my limit for today? It’ll be awhile until I’ve warmed back up.”

“There’s no need. Crusty hasn’t assigned any missions for today,” he dismisses. You quirk your brow up at the nickname.

“Crusty? You sure do love your boss,” you joke. You give him a sly smile. He’s not sure why he wishes to see you like that more often. He fights those thoughts of his. The rational side screams at him to stay focused, to stick to his life’s mission. You are becoming a distraction. Your voice breaks him out of his internal struggle. “Well I’m gonna go use up all the hot water. Consider it a bill for my services.”

“Cold water never bothered me, go ahead.”

Dabi leaves your room, allowing you the privacy to gather your clothes and fetch a towel before showering. You make your way to the bathroom with your clothes, a towel, and all your hygiene products. The bathroom is rather small, but it’s certainly better than nothing. You shed your clothes and tuck them away, before turning the shower knob all the way to hot. It’s unfortunate how your quirk worked out, as you’re much more tolerant to heat than you are the cold. Whenever you use your quirk too much, you end up showering with water so hot it nearly makes you dizzy. You test the temperature by putting your hand under the water stream, feeling if it’s to your liking. With the water sufficiently warmed, you don’t hesitate to climb in. The shower does wonders to relax your skin. Your skin that was once raised with goosebumps and mottled with purpling skin smooths over and evens in tone. You do the rest of your routine, but you can’t help but think about your situation. 

When Shigaraki explained the ‘agreement’, if it can even be called that, you were dreading having to touch and heal criminals. The mere notion appalled you, especially with how touch reliant your quirk is. So far, the arrangement isn’t nearly as bad as you feared. You’ve really only had to heal Dabi. Speaking of him, there’s something enigmatic about him. He’s so distant from the rest of the league. His eyes are cold yet his quirk is hot, he’s almost like a walking contradiction. 

Like you. 

You halt at the thought. Do you two really have that much in common? If you really stop to think about it, the two of you are just two people with mismatched yet complementary quirks. Your personalities don’t seem to fit what the overarching society dictates. People with fire quirks are supposed to be fiery, hot-headed, and heat-resistant. Healing quirk users are supposed to be sweet, genuine, and usually resistant to damage. Yet, the two of you go through life combatting those ideas. Your sarcasm isn’t telling of a nurturing personality. His cold, analytical approach to life doesn’t match the social scripts for fire users. 

You feel that the water temperature isn’t as scalding anymore. You’ve been lost in thought for too long. The room is filled with thick steam. It’s time to step out. It’s time to get your mind off of him.

Masterlist

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[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

When I made my "which characters read as neurodivergent" tierlist, someone pointed out in the comments that Arisa could have been put in one of the ND tiers, and I suddenly questioned why I hadn't put her there. After all, this was my response (minus the egregious typo): "Arisa I honestly tend to look at as neurodivergent. Her loneliness and being an A+ student, masking to the point of going too far with it, passionate rants, are definitely relatable in that sense."

So what possessed me to put her in the "something going on here, just not necessarily ND" tier? I've thought about it and I think I've figured it out. I like to read Arisa as physically disabled.

This is probably in the realm of headcanon, but it's the type that makes use of canon, you know? I look at her as having an invisible disability. With that in mind, I've used the fact that in the anime, she is for some reason shown sitting on a toilet a couple times (although not actually shown taking a shit, I guess she's just... sitting there...), which is very natural but just isn't the case for the other characters I feel like? That's not usually their pretty girl cute girl place to hang out... ... I've used that fact to create a metaphorical picture where she has IBS or any other sort of condition that makes it preferable for there to be a bathroom nearby at all times.

I know she's not taking a painful shit because I watched this scene, but nothing about this framing proves that she isn't.

And I genuinely think it fits her writing. Having a disability that requires regularly going to the bathroom would easily explain why she avoids going to school - not only is having to leave in the middle of class inconvenient, but it is also a difficult thing to admit to socially.

...And I know BanG Dream! is a family-friendly series with appropriately young fans, so let's get it out of the way. Haha! Poop! ...Regardless, I'd like to talk about this disability neutrally, for what it is, and speak positively about representation of it in fiction.

This is of course not mentioning the stress and fatigue that induces. So let's say Arisa has such a disability. Despite caring about being an A+ student (which she was even in her music school when she was a kid, and we know she was happy about her successes), she becomes anxious at the idea of going to school. Although her grandma isn't given much characterisation, one could infer that the knowledge that this is due to her diagnosed disability - her pain and discomfort - is why she allows her to skip school so often without questioning it. Generally, adults tend to care about that. She takes this habit from a young age and because of that, doesn't form friendships, and what little social life she has is made difficult by the anxiety she already experiences in the first place.

On top of all of this, a mix or her physical appearance and her distant behaviour has her come off as a distinguished young lady. (Not something I'm making up - Eve often mentions it, but other characters also point to her being very delicate, very well-spoken.) Keeping up that façade is made all the more stressful by knowing the social stigma that comes with having the kind of disability that affects your gastro-intestinal movements. Of course, that doesn't exist in a vacuum, and it also hides her sharp tongue. Still, why don't people know about her true personality, if not because she's extremely avoidant from the get-go? All of this explains her behaviour - avoiding social functions (from fear of being "found out"), being socially awkward (from lack of socialisation), and possibly even laying hard into the perception that she's elegant (...and that's why she's so distant, definitely no other reason...!).

And the reason I care enough to lay all of this down is that such a story is honestly very wholesome in the end. Despite her circumstances that made her avoid social life, the introverted Arisa is found by her future wife an extroverted friend who brings her out of her shell. She even ends up in a band! Despite her disability, Arisa is able to participate in social life and stand on stage, be cool, be pretty, be fun, do what she loves to do. This isn't a stress-free life... as we know, Arisa is often stressed out (see picture above). And she might even have to deal with pain and difficulties around and during concerts, but with people around her who want her to be there, the world can be made accessible, less scary and worth the effort.

I'm not against reading Arisa as another neurodivergent member of PoPiPa, especially since neurodivergent can mean many things, but something about her possessed me to think about the possibility that there's a different reason for her "being a little weird". Kasumi has to me a very clear case of ADHD, Tae is the "airhead" character which I also choose to read as a brand of ND and not just... an anime trope..., Rimi is very shy (also fits the food fixations and weird interests bill), Saaya is neurotypical as balls but her social life is impacted by external factors (her family; her mom's disability!) and I think it fits the bill that Arisa has her own reason to be isolated from the social norm. Hey, it even makes Saaya seem less like the weirdo/only neurotypical in the band! Since PoPiPa has this theme going on between the lines, I think it's interesting to look at the possibility that the factor that isolates one of them is a physical disability - because that is a genuine factor for loneliness.