#it's enough to make a grown man cry (derogatory)

[scrumptiousfoxglitter]

A complete list* of every allo character I know of.

[freiwrites]

Uhhh first writing, it's a small blurb idk if I wanna continue it. Also I'm new to this, please excuse any weird formatting (I'm also writing on mobile hkdgsjskh, let me know if anything looks off though. I'll try to fix it later, but for now I'm just dipping my feet)

sdj ian x gn reader, smut:

Ian (derogatory) , I wanna bully him

Ian creeps you out, and he's a little bit pathetic. You love him.

He's your closest friend, your best friend.

The red head is kind overall, without a single bone in his body that would harm anyone, especially you.

He makes you feel needed. You hold him once more. Something twists in your belly a little when you see him cry or call out with that whiny voice of his. It twists inside you and settles into a knot that festers into something you can't quite name.

Because of his awkwardness, he fumbles often. Clumsy lips and wandering hands that aren't sure where to rest on your body. You watch him struggle for a bit and you decide to cut Ian some slack, letting him explore blindly.

Occasionally, a brush of his fingertips jolts something inside of you. You want to wiggle in place, incite him to come back and make you feel good. Still, you stay put until you've felt he's had enough time to get used to touching you, that and you've grown tired of watching him flounder.

Gently, you place your hands over his, feeling him jump under you, and you bring them to rest on your hips. You squeeze his hands to grip you a bit harder, more firmer. Be more rough with me, it's okay.

You look at him from under your eyelashes, craning your neck to meet his half lidded stare. Ian's glasses have long since been taken off, giving you a generous view of the freckles scattered on his face and neck. You brush his fringe away from his face and lean up to kiss him, gently tugging on his lip with your teeth. He yelps, pulling you closer to his hips and—

"I—! That's—"

You kiss his cheek, nuzzling against him. Then, Ian feels a smile at his neck.

"It's fine. More than fine, actually." To emphasize how fine this is, you grind back on his growing bulge, relishing his whimpers and how he ruts against you like a dog in heat.

"Haa! P-please! I need you!"

"Hmm? Need me to do what?" You simper cruelly.

Ian whines, you're too mean. Don't bully him so much, don't tease him. You don't get an answer and while you think you have an idea of what he wants, it's better to hear from the man himself.

"Use your words," a hand runs along his back soothingly, up and down slowly, and Ian slumps into you, "I'm not a mind reader, sweetheart."

There's a whimper as he buries his face into your neck and he continues seeking friction to ease his aches. You move your hand from his back to rest on his hip. You squeeze him, not enough to prevent him from humping you, but he seems to get the message and lets out a small cry of frustration.

"Come on, tell me. It's okay, Ian." Your whisper sounds devilish. He feels like he's burning under your holy gaze. He looks at your sweet angelic face and Ian finally crumbles.

"Wanna— I wanna fuck you, please! Wanna fill you up!"

How cute. So polite too.

You decide to ease up and pull away from Ian, and he loathes it. He hates being away from your warmth and wants nothing more than to chase after you, clinging on and burying himself into you.

But he knows better than that.

You unbuckle his belt and shimmy his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It's leaking with precum, dribbling onto your hand as you grip him.

Ian sharply inhales and his legs shake.

Your thumb rubs tiny circles onto his inner thighs before planting kisses. You look up at his teary face.

You're going to ruin him.

[4ragon]

Any Simon Blackquill thoughts?

Bro you have no idea how many thoughts I have about Simon Blackquill.

I keep saying this, but I used to hate this dude a lot. I went into Dual Destinies with a lot of spoilers, but I hadn’t realized that Simon Blackquill was just a dude convicted of murder?? Prosecuting?? For some reason??? And again, DD was that game that really liked to stretch the limit of my tolerance. I get that they retroactively make it work like they do with every other ‘pushing the limits’ plot twist they’d take away at the last second, but at the time, it was just one more “Oh okay, they’re just going to not care about making sense” to add to the pile. It was stupid! And Simon was a mean asshole, I didn’t get him. I didn’t get why people cared about him. Sure his backstory was sweet but what was the point of what he was doing anyway? I didn’t get it.

And for a while after I finished Dual Destinies, that was kind of it. He was a frustrating presence, and he was boring and bland, and I didn’t care for him.

And then I replayed Dual Destinies with some friends, and I realized: Oh? Wait. This guy is genuinely kind of funny????

Like. Simon Blackquill is really funny. He’s funny! He talks like a fucking ye olde samurai for literally no reason, and the things he says make no sense. He switches rapidly between angry no-nonsense asshole and “Ah Yes Your Baldness That Man Is A Ghost” and then he just up and leaves in the middle of court to go for a walk??? Like. He’s unhinged and weird and I appreciate that.

So that was it, right? He went from Bland and Uninteresting to Funny. Maybe that was enough. Surely there wasn’t more to it than that, right?

Listen. You guys. I think Simon Blackquill is my favorite prosecutor.

He’s got all these layers to him. There’s this angry no-nonsense ruthless prosecutor, who is dangerous and scary, who threatens people who annoy him, who has this short fuse. And then he’s refusing to respect a single person he talks to like some sort of petulant, sulking teenager, calling the judge Your Baldness and lounging backwards at the bench and falling asleep during a very boring testimony. And he laughs at his own jokes even if they’re bad, and he loves that fucking bird so much, getting angry and menacing when someone said “Birdbrain” in a derogatory way. Guys, he was So Stoked To Kill A Whale. And for what??

And then you add into the mix the fact that he’s on death row for a crime he didn’t commit.

Like. How much of how he presents himself was a defense mechanism of a scared young man who had to pretend to be a ruthless murderer at all costs? He had to be this violent, scary monster because the moment he stopped was the moment the jig was up, the moment he failed. There was not a person alive who knew that he was innocent, other than Athena and the Phantom, and the fact of the matter is, there was no instance where Simon could let that facade drop even for a second, probably even for himself.

Like he had to have been terrified to let his guard drop with anyone. For one, as a man who was supposed to put criminals in prison, being this ruthless scary monster was probably his biggest defense he had in prison. And conversely he couldn’t even drop the act around people he trusted if he had any hope of convincing them he murdered his mentor in cold blood.

And he was so ready to die for Athena, too. He was so close to his execution. And he had to keep pretending, keep building these walls around his heart just to save one girl from taking the blame. He’s an asshole, and I wonder how much of that was a conscious effort to drive people away? How much of it was him not wanting to hurt people by getting close to them, and how much was him not wanting to hurt himself? I feel like he did desperately want to be saved, wanted to cling to life, was terrified of what was happening, but anything that could possibly give him that hope was also just as quickly going to damn Athena, and he couldn’t even let himself care about that, or about his own personal wellbeing, since after all, he himself was throwing all that away anyway. All he could do was cry in private, letting his tears stain his face but not even caring enough to wipe them away.

I’ve said it before, but the Simon who went to prison and the Simon who was released from prison had to be two different people. He spent so much time becoming the Twisted Samurai and facing his own mortality that so much of who he was had to have been warped and twisted just to survive, just to keep himself together until he could be sacrificed for his mentor’s child.

There’s clearly so much trauma wrapped up in him. And yet there’s still this twisted humor that he thrives on. He fucks with the other inmates by greasing the floors, he asks Apollo if he wants to come back to his prison cell for the night for Some Fucking Reason and then has to write fucking Lines like a middle schooler. He’s trying to squeeze all this humor out of his shitty taste of freedom as he hurls himself off a cliff, while still being an uncooperative asshole to everyone around him.

Shit, dude, I love Simon a lot. I love characters clinging so desperately to these facades they create to protect themselves. I love characters who are so desperately lonely and still lash out to keep people away from them. I love it. I love it so much.

And I love that he’s a little more chill in SoJ. He’s reconnecting with some old friends, eating at restaurants he used to love. He’s still spending time with Athena and growing past the horrible shit he’s been through. And he’s still this smug, uncooperative asshole, butting heads with anyone and everyone he physically can, but there’s no longer that air of “A dying man recklessly wringing everything he can out of the last year of his life,” now he’s just enjoying being an asshole. And you know what? I think he’s earned it.

There was an artbook or something that described pre-prison Simon as polite and reserved. I do like to think there was a mischievous side to him too, especially given the fact that he had someone like Aura as an older sister. But he was just a polite, gentle soul who had to twist himself into something horrible just to get through to the other side. And now he gets to heal and grow, and get a new chance at life that was taken from him for seven years.

Shit. I can’t believe how much I’ve grown to care about this shithead.

[damn-stark]

Wait

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N- I’m sorry if theirs some misspelling I literally just finished this and wanted to release it right away to post a request today. ALSO, I combined the two requests because they were about the same, hope you all don’t mind :)

Requested by anon “Are you still taking requests? If so, could you maybe do a reader x Diego one, where reader is dying and is just trying to hang on long enough for Diego to reach them so they can say goodbye?” (And since they’re like the same request I decided to add both together, hope you all don’t mind :) “I was wondering, if you're still taking requests, if you'd maybe do a Diego x Reader, where the reader gets put in danger because of Diego's vigilantism, and they almost die/do die?”

Warning- ANGST, violence, use of some derogatory names (swearing), light fluff and just pure sadness (you guys asked for it :/) talks of blood.

———-

‘Meet me tomorrow at our usual spot, at our usual time.’

Staring at the note in your hand and then at your watch one last time you ball the paper in your hand and shove it in your pocket, putting down what could be your hundredth cup of tea ever since you entered the damned place to wait for the boyfriend you had that was never in time.

Usually you forgave thirty minutes because you knew that his “line of work” held him up most of the time but taking two hours was unlike him. There could be the chance he was on his way. But he did state that today he wasn’t going to be held up by usual activities. Maybe—no.

Maybe you were just an idiot waiting for someone who had forgotten and just left you here. Hmph.

Pushing your chair back you stand from it and finally choose to leave, walking out into the cold with your arms crossed on your chest and an angry scowl twisted onto your features, cursing Diego under your breath and going clueless at the fact that someone had begun to follow after you, that more than one person had began to trial you. Feeling almost a steam of smoke come out of your ears and rise from your head at how angry you currently were at Diego, at how he didn’t even try and call to say he was not going to come at all. He just left you alone without a word.

“Hey, care to spare some change for a hungry woman.” An older woman suddenly said from her spot on the ground, making you lose your train of thought to stop and look at the tin can she had raised your way. A sunken look featured on her face and an exhausted smile on her face.

You nod and try to copy her smile, but yours is more feigned than her was, regardless you grab your bag and zip it open to take out what she requested, reaching your hand to drop it, but before the dollar bill could drop on the can, a wet cloth went over your mouth and arms wrapped around your neck. The sudden feeling surprised you causing a late reaction that cost your body to give in to the sudden darkness your unconsciousness brought. Managing only soft groan before nothing.

——

(Previous day)

“You’re finally on time today, what a lovely surprise.” You say with a grin, turning around to walk back to your couch, plopping yourself back on the comforts of your spot before grabbing the bag of snacks from the coffee table.

Diego takes his shoes off and throws them to the side, removing his jacket and lazily putting it on the coat hanger by the door before rushing to jump on the empty seat next to you, showing you a smile before laying down to rest his head on your lap—“I had to make an exception for you.”

You chuckle, “so you let yourself have a night off from being a vigilante? Did you tell the criminals. ‘Hey! Not today, I’m busy, but we can proceed tomorrow.”

Diego’s shoots you pointed look, his smile contrasting the annoyance he was trying to show off; “exactly. But actually tomorrow I plan to have a day off too.”

“Oh?” You ríase your eyebrow and shoot him a questioning look as you grab a snack from the bag and put it in your mouth, “what’s the occasion?”

“You.”

You laugh and shake your head, swallowing down your food before replying, “really? Taking a night off from being Batman to be with me?”

“Always.” He lifts his hand and takes yours to place a folded piece of paper on your palm, “I thought I wasn’t going to make it in time today so I planned leaving a note, but here we are and I didn’t want to let a good written note go to waste.”

Letting out an amused huff of air you unfold the paper and read the words, ‘Meet me tomorrow at our usual spot, at our usual time.’

“Ah, my boyfriend the poet, your words are so moving and kind. This note is going to make me cry.” Regardless of your teasing you lean down and press a kiss on his forehead, receiving a brighter smile from said man.

“I knew you’d like it.” He joked, his eyes widening as if he had seen something utterly terrifying. He sat up quickly and shoving his hands into his pocket, a relief sigh leaving his lips as he seemed to be content with what he found.

“You lose something, knife boy?”

He shook his head and just smirked, “I-I just thought I had lost my keys that’s all.” He moved back to rest on his previous position before taking your hand in his once more to interlace it with his.

You blink, “I thought you were going after that one gang the police still couldn’t track down?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but like I said just you and me tomorrow. If you’re up for it of course?”

You grin and lean down to press a kiss on his lips this time before whispering softly, “of course.”

——

Your eyes flutter open and the moment your vision clears you’re welcomed by bright and harsh lights that hang from above; you groan and lull your head to the side, noticing people behind a window, seeming to be arguing amongst themselves until the same woman from before notices you awake and stops them to come out of their office.

“Well, well,” one of them taunts while he moves towards you, his hands going to his hips before he crouch’s down to be on your level before you. “If it isn’t Hargreeves favorite girl.”

“Why are you surprised if you're the ones that took me.” You snap back. “I’m not even going to bother asking where I am, cause you’re not going to tell me. Typical.”

The man with the deep grey eyes shoots you a glare before a cruel smile curls onto his lips, “such a smart girl, no wonder our hero likes you so much.” He stands up and walks over to a table by the window, picking up a phone to press a couple buttons before putting it up to his ear. “It’s okay, you can lead him over here now, we have his girl.” His eyes never leave from your sitting figure as he finishes talking, setting down the phone whilst he leaned on the table. “I will tell you why you’re here though, just so you know why to blame your cop wanna be boyfriend.”

You huff and try to move your arms as the raspy material around your wrists seems to feel loose.

“Your boy has gotten too far up in our business and I don’t like it.” He seethed.

Your eyebrows furrow and a taunting and dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, “maybe you should be better at hiding then.” The man’s hand instantly slams the on the top of the wooden table while his other one goes to the gun holstered at his side. Ripping it out and shooting in a blink of an eye to the cement floor, the sound echoing the white room that seemed to be a warehouse of some kind.

“You better shut your mouth you little bitch, you might think this is a game but trust me it isn’t. Your stupid boyfriend is going to pay for shoving his nose in what doesn’t concern him.”

You swallow thickly and let your head drop while also still squirming your hands around to loosen the restraints around your wrists. Hearing but ignoring the footsteps approaching you until the same lady from before yanked your head up by your hair and made you look into her green eyes. “While we wait for precious number two, why don’t we make him a nice film.” She tilts your head down to make you look straight forward at a camera some other goon was positioning a few feet before you, his finger moving inches from the lens to press a button that made a red light go off.

“Okay.” The lady begins loudly, flipping her dark black her back to smile at the camera and pull a small silver knife out of her pocket. A knife you recognized as Diego’s; “I’ve grown tired of you coming in my business, number two. I’ve warned you time after time and you just don’t seem to get a hint!” She snickers and moves the knife to your face, straightening your head as you begin to move it away. “I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me no choice….” she pauses and then looks at you, shooting you a wicked smile before she presses the sharp blade to the side of your head just above the tip of your ear and slowly slides the blade down to the tip of your cheekbone. Creating a gash that made you let out a pained cry that made tears roll doesn’t down your cheeks.

“Ahhh!”

The woman chuckles and offers you a feigned sympathetic look, “Just one more.”

You try to squirm away, panting quietly as you try to move your restrained hands faster, having your efforts slow the moment she moves the blade to the other side of your face to press the tip of the blade on the top of your eyebrow and slid it down a couple inches to make a small slit. This cut wasn’t as painful but it still made your eyes shut firmly and more tears to roll down, making the woman smile and finally pull away, dropping your head to let it hang as she moved to the camera to speak words you didn’t catch as you felt the restraints fall off your wrists. Making a proud smile grow on your features before you jumped to your feet, ignoring the pain on your face and lifting the chair to throw it at the woman.

The men around instantly pulled out their guns at the sound of her yelp, but she signaled them to stay put, all of them not hesitating to do so—Noticing that slight fact you stride towards her and in a hasty move reach for the gun in her holster, finding to have trouble as her hands fell on yours to begin to fight for the hold, in that moment dropping the knife that was in her hand. Your eyes widen as the knife clinks on the ground, letting go of the gun to quickly pick up the object, noticing from the corner of your eye that she was quick to put up a fight by kicking you down.

“Ahh, fuck!” Your jaw drops to let out a couple of pained grunts, trying to shove the pain aside to slide your hand over to the blade, feeling in a matter of seconds her boot stomp on your hand. “You stupid bitch!” Using your other hand you grab her leg and yank her down, the move making her back land on your hand, but also making it easier for you to snatch the knife.

Just as you’re about to stab her arm, she rolls over to climb on top of you, beginning to wrestle for the object in hand, neither of you gaining the upper hand while also multitasking and reaching for her gun—“fuck you!” You growl, throwing your head forward and hitting her forehead hard, making her slightly fumble back but not removing her hands from either object and instead pulling out the gun the same time you did.

The woman smiles and digs her knee into your stomach, making you yell in pain and unintentionally losing your grip on the knife. Allowing her to swing her hand to the side and cut your cheek, making you let out another pained yelp.

You wanted to react more and just stop but you knew you couldn’t, you had to keep fighting. So you did; just as she thought she was going to win the gun, you got ahold of it first and swung it across her face, making her roll off your body and groan loudly, her hand flying to her wounded area—using her distraction you crawled to be above her head to lift it and threaten her with the gun in front of her goons, but as you tried she threw her hand back and the blade in hand Impaled your stomach. Instantly making your movements freeze and for the weapon in your hand to drop to the ground.

Your hands go to your new wound and the woman presses the knife deeper into your flesh, making you cry out and collapse to the floor, gasping softly for air to hit your lungs.

The woman's footsteps are heard walking beside you, her evil green eyes blinking and her head tilting to the side before a cold smile grows on her face. “Well, I was only planning to maybe let you live and just have some fun with you, but I like this outcome better. Shows a stronger message, don’t you think?”

You glare up at her and just spit in her face, earning feigned chuckle from her before she crouched down and stabbed the blade in you one more time, moving her head so her lips were by your ear to whisper. “If you see Diego, tell him that I don’t want to see him anymore, get it, honey?”

You tilt your head away and just ignore her, hearing her chuckle one last time before she stands up and orders her people to move out, leaving you spread on the floor with thick crimson red blood pooling around you. Feeling your heart beat slower and slower inside your chest, hearing your breathing begin to sound shallow and slow. Noticing your eyes are quick to get heavy.

Time was coming to an end, that much you figured out, unless someone just magically appeared and brought a couple doctors with them—it was wishful thinking, but you still hoped, somewhat. Even if you felt everything begin to numb to the point you couldn’t feel anything you held hope, perhaps not for the magical doctors, but for Diego. To at least see him once more before everything faded into internal darkness.

They did say to lead him here after all, so that wish wasn’t so far stretched as the other….right?—A violent cough suddenly escaped you, making you roll to your side to spit out the warm metallic liquid that rose up in your lungs. Noticing more blood stain the grey floors and spill all over your hands. Great—you fall back down on your back and take in a shaky breath, feeling warm tears roll down your cheek and hearing the door slam open.

Footsteps rush forward and come to a stop—now you would have tried to see who it was but even thinking of the effort was too hard, everything was beginning to feel hard, even breathing. So you instar you waited and heard as the mysterious newcomer stood frozen for a moment until you hear their loud footsteps rush forward, stopping once more but this time letting out a gasp and running towards you.

You blink to look at the feeling of someone fall to your side, instantly seeing the familiar face of Diego, his eyes already clouded with tears.

“I’m here. I’m here.” Without waiting more, his hands looped under your head and under your shoulders, lifting you up so you could rest in his arms. “I-I’ve got t-t-this, I can-can take you so th-th-th-they can help you. I-I’ve got you. I can-can help.”

You smile softly and reach to cup his cheek, wiping the tears off his cheeks and whispering to him, “no, it’s okay, I got to see you, just don’t leave me, okay?”

Diego shook his head and exhaled shakily, moving one blood covered hand to cradle your cheek, “no. No. P-p-please no.” He swallowed thickly and rested his forehead on yours, “I’m go-go-go-going to save you. Hold…...on.”

“Diego...please.” You cry softly, shaking your head to put down his suggestion, knowing and feeling that it was a matter of seconds now. “I love you, so much.”

Diego let out a sob and cradled your body closer to his, leaving a wet but soft kiss on your lips before stuttering out his reply. “I-I….I love you.”

You grin and keep your eyes on him as your vision begins to dim, feeling your hand slowly slide off his cheek, and feeling your breath slow down until you fall into a peaceful and internal darkness….

[square-blunt]

Even though you're never there I didn't feel you disappear.

WOOOOOOOOO I HAVE NOT SLEPT IN THREE DAYS LET'S FUCKING GO WITH A MUMZA & MR. TOMMY DANGER CAREFUL KRAKEN INNIT FIC WITH A THEMES OF REGRET AND CLOSURE WIHT A SPECIAL APPEARANCE FROM HAPPY GHOSTBUR AND FRIEND BC WILBUR SOOT CAN SUCK MY FUCKING DICK LETS FUCKING GO

Tw- a slight bit of a panic attack, but it doesn't last long at all, only a line or two, uh, death mention, Tommy's normal 'I love women' humor, I've taken the liberty to add some of my own hc about how this whole thing works and it's better than what ever Soot (derogatory) could come up with bc i say so. Wc: 4200 (lmfao 420 lol haha) AO3: here

-

Tommy regrets a lot of things. He doesn’t realize how much until he’s walking back from the hotel one cold, windy night. Nothing he would admit, oh no, he would never do that. It was only a way for people to target him more.

‘Talk less, smile more,’ Wilbur would say, ‘everything you say can be used by our enemies.’ And Tommy took that to heart… later than he should have. After Exile to be exact.

‘There’s a reason you never told Techno about what happened,’ Puffy had said, ‘you were scared he would use your trauma against you.’ And she was right… to a point. All this 'would say', 'had said', it didn’t matter to Tommy, it couldn't matter less because what’s done is done, what’s said is said, and who’s gone… is gone. Forever. There’s no point in fighting the unfightable. Battle, person, there was no point. The last time he reached to try and change anything he got killed- he was abandoned, again, and left to die. He knows his situation isn’t fair- Puffy’s told him so, Eret’s told him so, Ranboo’s told him so- but that doesn’t change the fact that it is. It is unfair that he can’t… have things, people. As soon as he makes something for himself, people try and take it away from him, as soon as he finds something that makes him happy they get snatched out of his hands, as soon as he finds people who are willing to help him, unapologetically, no strings attached, they are murdered in front of him. It isn’t fair, and no one else seems to see it. That’s something he regrets. Letting it get this bad. Because if all of this is happening to him, is being blamed on him, there must be something wrong, right? Ranboo doesn’t remember things, so maybe he did something awful and just… doesn’t remember. He burnt George’s house down, and if that warrants Dream’s abuse for months then he could have done anything to deserve everything else. To have almost everything and everyone he loves to be taken away from him time and time again. He couldn’t show emotion about it either, because he would be punished then, too. His best friend got blown up and he- he fucking- says something about how that’s not fair and then- he gets beat to death in a fucking box- for the crime of- fucking, what would that even count as, questioning the great Technoblade?

‘Oops- sorry- you enjoyed your music a little too much I’m going to kill your best friend and throw you in the prison for it, shouldn’t have done that, Tommy, c’mon now you now better-’ It was fucking ridiculous. He can’t understand why his consequences are so extreme compared to everyone else- Schlatt still got a grave for fuck’s sake! He has no fucking idea if anyone ever made him one- he knows Tubbo did, but Tommy and Tubbbo- Tubbo is the only one who actually gives to fucks about him at this point. Ranboo might be another, but with his memory shit, it’ll only be a matter of time before all he knows of Tommy is what other people tell him. Puffy’s only doing therapy for him because she feels guilty about losing Foolish, Eret, as much as he cares about her, is really only by his side because she feels she has a debt to pay, he’s the one following Wilbur around, fuck what Sam used to be to Tommy, Quackity was only going to get worse, Jack and Niki tried to fucking blow him up- anyone else who has unapologetically been by his side has been killed right in front of him. Everyone who has ever stood up for him has been killed in front of him or almost been killed in front of him- maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s why no one wants to be on his side because they’re afraid of the trouble he brings.

He’s a liability. They don’t want to die- so they’d rather let him die than risk anything.

He’s not a kid.

He’s something to avoid like the plague, and anyone who even remotely cared about him caught it. He feels tears sting his eyes. He hears a big gust of wind shake the trees before it whips around him- carrying a voice. A familiar voice. It whispers in his ear and settles in his mind, soft, like a blanket, he can hear it clear as day, asking if he needs anything, asking what his favorite thing in the world is, crying- crying out that he’s scared- asking with tears burning his face if it’ll be alright, ‘You promised I’d be ok!’

He regrets failing Ghostbur the most out of everything. He regrets not spending enough time with him, he regrets not telling him how much he meant to him- he sprints the rest of the way home. The digs through all his chests, his ender chest, not stopping until he finds-

“Blue, blue, blue, where is it- fuckin- please tell me I have some left, no- fuck where is it? What happened to it- please tell me- oh thank fuck- thank fuck-” After combing through the same two chests multiple times, he finally finds a few handfuls of blue left. Choking back a sob, he sees what's left of the clear turn blue and grow heavy in his hands. Ghostbur remarked that any blue he gave Tommy turned blue on contact, that it was odd, because it only happened with a few other people- Phil and Eret. People with towering regret. Phil must have regretted killing Wilbur… Eret, well, Tommy knows all too well their regret. Tommy was never able to place exactly what his regrets were.

He knows now that his regrets have only grown to encompass everything he knows.

Fuck, he feels so guilty about Ghostbur- it was Tommy's fault, wasn't it? He blamed Sam in the moment, but it really was… he was the one who told Ghostbur what to do- he was the one to use him to get into the prison in the first place. And he had to try and- calm him down- his fear still haunts Tommy's nightmares. Because he did promise. He did promise everything would be ok. But it wasn't, Tommy botched it, and Dream- Tommy had to watch- shit, it was his fault. Ghostbur is gone and there's nothing he can do to bring him back. He doesn't know anything about resurrection, and he- maybe- what if he agreed to let dream out if he got ghostbur back- no, no- no, no that's exactly what Dream wants. He wants Tommy to feel as though he's his only option. So Dream still has control. He… the last thing he wants for Ghostbur is to become a trading point. On the verge of tears, the blue changes in his hands. That never happened before- the blue changing. He looks down, and sees that the blue has turned into wool.

He hears a sheep bleat happily outside his door.

He scrambles up, moving faster than he has in a while, throwing his door open- he's not at his house. He's… not in the server even- what the hell-

It's still nighttime, but the stars are thousands of times brighter than he remembers. Instead of the prime path ahead of him, there's a quartz walkway spanning under tall birch and spruce trees; it seems that the stars are in the leaves, too. He looks behind him, hoping to hide back in his house- but it's not there. Instead, a quartz and mossy cobble archway, with more quartz pathing spilling out behind it. Tommy… might be stuck here. But he doesn't start to panic. He feels a strange kind of calm. Like this realm will let him out when his business is done. But he doesn't know what his business is.

He feels the weight leave his hands. He looks down- and the blue wool has turned clear. It's turned into delicate spindles of… something. Back to its original state. That has… never happened to Tommy before.

He looks past his hands, and the path lights up where his feet are. He jumps around a little, the light disappearing when his feet leave the path, and reappearing as they make contact again.

He laughs.

He dances around, his smile growing bigger.

The stars and the leaves seem to laugh with him.

"Hello, Tommy." a soft voice says behind him. A woman's voice.

Tommy stops, turning around, his grip tightening around the… well, it's not blue anymore, is it?

The woman is standing under the archway, tall, wearing black robes that flow around wings that are tucked neatly behind her, her long black hair almost seems a dark purple when it catches the light. To top it all off, she has a large black hat, similar to a witch’s hat, but Tommy understands that she doesn't want to hurt him. But he can never be too careful.

"Who- who the fuck are you?" Tommy says, defensively.

"Please, don't tell me that's how you greet every woman you come across?" She says, lightness in her voice and laughter in her eyes.

"Only the ones who trap me in weird- what is this place?" Tommy mutters, then asks.

"This is my home," she says clasping her hands together in front of her. "I figured you might need some closure."

"It's very pretty," Tommy murmurs again, looking down at his feet.

"Thank you, Tommy, I-"

"Wait, how do you know my name? I've never seen you before, and trust me, I would remember if I had met you." Tommy says, trying to lighten the small ball of worry in his chest. The woman laughs.

"Oh, you are exactly like my husband-"

"Oh no- You're married? Why?? A woman like you can't be tied down to just one man-"

"Tommy!" The woman laughs more.

"Augh- you're tall- you're so fucking tall and dark and mysterious- fucking hell you're tall- like I'm comfortable enough in my masculinity but still-" Tommy laughs, "and you're wearing all black- who's funeral are you going to?" he adds sarcastically. His face falls as her mood noticeably changes more somber.

"Everyone's- and no one's." she takes a few steps forward, and sighs. "My name is Kristin, Goddess of death."

"...what- i- how can- Wait a minute- oh fuck am I dead again- Wait a fucking minute where the hell were you the first three times I died- or for Tubbo- or for- Wilbur- Ghost- Ghostbur? Mexican Dream? Are they here? What do you fucking mean goddess of death? Is this the afterlife? Why the fuck didn't we go here-"

"Tommy, Tommy, I understand that you are.. allowed to ask questions, I called you here against your will- I will let you go back, I promise, and I'm going to try and answer all of your questions. Shall we walk?" She steps up, offering an arm.

Tommy is hesitant. If she… is actually the goddess of fucking death itself does he even have a choice? He nods and takes her arm. He immediately is filled with a cozy warmth- like drinking hot chocolate on a snowy day, finally getting in bed after working all night, a warmth that feels like home, like rest. Tommy muses if that's what a true, honest to prime death would feel like. When your joints finally stop aching, your breath stops rattling around your lungs.

His didn't feel like rest.

He wonders if he'll have a true death- he wonders if his joints will ever stop aching, because they do already. His breath rattles around in his lungs. Will he ever feel rested? With everything he's been through, with all the guilt he's got, probably not.

"Tommy-" Kristin begins to say,

"Are you an American? You sound-" Tommy tries to postpone the conversation he knows she's about to start

"Tommy-" she sighs, but he knows she's not mad.

"I know, I know, I use humor to cope with my trauma and to avoid talking about it, Puffy's told me this." Tommy quickly says. He feels something light brush his other arm- a feather, Kristin's put her wing around him.

"Puffy's smart, you should listen to her." Kristin nods. "But even Einstein didn't have all the answers-"

"Who?"

"-so you still should ask questions." She waves away his confusion with a motherly smile. "And you've asked plenty. And I have plenty of answers. So, one, no. You aren't dead. I simply realm hopped you to me. Any doorway can become a gateway, and it is quite easy to make one for someone like me. Something that I can't do, however, is help with pre-set death rules. Each timeline we make- just plain old 'live your life and die' got boring, so we shook it up. You all got canon lives, which… are completely not up to me. I do not get to decide which death is canon or not, and I don't get to even interact with your spirits until the third."

"Ok, then I wanna talk with the motherfucker who is in charge of those because I have a few words for them-"

"Tommy, trust me, you don't. While you are of great interest to them, and they do like you a lot, they are not going to budge on things. They are stubborn as hell- but they're a storyteller."

"Well, they're fucking stupid whoever they are."

"Although, something they- any of us really- didn't plan for was Dream having the revive book- or the revive book getting stolen from my husband in the first place. I can't tell you how many meetings I had to sit in to try and convince the others not to smite him off his earth- but that's a story for another time. Because of Dream knowing… the contents of that book, he was able to hold souls from coming to me, and he was able to place them wherever he liked. He didn't do Wilbur's soul correctly, however. His soul slipped through the cracks and got placed in… he called it limbo? That caused some issues for Dream that I'll tell you about later, but he messed up again, placing Mexican Dream in a limbo of his own, but those circumstances allowed me to save his soul from Dream-"

"Wait if you could save MD then why not-"

"Wilbur, like I said, slipped away from Dream and fell into his limbo. But, because Dream had no hand in actually directly placing Wilbur there, I wasn't able to save him. Not to mention, the manner of his death…. Nevertheless, I was able to save Mexican Dream from his limbo. In hindsight, I maybe shouldn't have, because Dream learned from that and you… you were placed somewhere I can't even access-"

"The void," Tommy whispers. He doesn't want to think about it, he shifts closer to Kristin, holding tighter to the fluff in his hand and onto Kristin's arm. She, in turn, holds him closer with her wing.

"There's an in-between life and death, and an in-between here and the limbos. Pockets of emptiness, waiting to be filled. More people find themselves there than you think, but even fewer who find their way out- you, and one of our own. There have been others, but your entire life has been different. Do you remember your life before the SMP?" she asks, softly. "You don't have to answer, but it's something to think about."

"I just want- Wilbur said that his limbo was awful. That he was there for thirteen years and that it was awful, and now because of me Ghostbur is there, too…" The black hole in his past is the last thing he wants to think about, so he changes the subject- guilt radiating off him.

"Remember the reason why I couldn't save Wilbur?" she asks, a twinkle in her voice.

"Because Dream didn't put him there- you can only save people who got put somewhere they weren't supposed to be?" Tommy looks up at her, hope tingling in his chest.

"Because Wilbur's soul fell… as naturally as it could have, Dream had to find a soul to replace Wilbur's with- with you, there was no need to find a soul to replace, because he had your soul in his hand, but for Wilbur, it was a… natural resurrection. With a missing soul, the entire continuum would collapse. So, he swapped Wilbur with Ghostbur. He placed Ghostbur somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. I was able to save him. Would you like to see him?" she smiles down at him.

"Wait he-" Tommy stops, his head spinning. Kristin stops too.

"He's safe. He's safe, and it's actually because of you. Because of that book- you can only place a soul in the void once. That was you. He had to put Ghostbur somewhere I could get him, or else his plan falls apart. Now… I can show you where Ghostbur is. But, I can't let him see you, or let you talk to each other. It's a precaution we have to take-"

"No, no, that's fine I just want to make sure he's- that he's- that I'm not-" Tommy shakes his head, trying to clear his mind, he feels like a vice has been released- one of many, but it's one. He takes a long shaky breath and nods his head. "I want to make sure that he's happy."

"Alright, come with me." She leads Tommy off the path and into the trees. Tommy hadn't lied when he said it was pretty. He has lighter steps now, and his smile is bigger than it was when he got here. They walk a little ways, Tommy sprinting when he hears the sound of familiar laughter, bright and carefree. He peeks out from behind a tree to see a clearing with a small house, mossy stone bricks, wood, and- and cobblestone. And, one semi-translucent ghost sitting behind a wall, in a garden of blue and yellow flowers, giggling. He's got a new sweater, still yellow, but there aren't any stains on it- blue or red. It's just… yellow. Pure yellow.

"I also pulled a few strings after that Skeppy incident," Kristin says, coming up behind Tommy, and Tommy perks up as he hears Ghostbur laugh again, this time a blue sheep running around the wall and up to Ghostbur.

"You found me! Good job, Friend!" Tommy hears Ghostbur say. Tommy feels a sting in his eyes, and then a hand on his back.

"You promise he's happy?" Tommy whispers.

"I swear," Kristan answers. Ghostbur stands and says something to the sheep, who bounds away. Ghostbur begins to count- backward from 10. Tommy doubles over, clutching his stomach.

"Tommy?" Kristin crouches down next to him, rubbing circles into his back.

"Counting down from 10 is not a good thing, I've decided," Tommy says, looking ahead, as Ghostbur laughs his wonderful laugh and disappears around the wall. His throat becomes dry, he doesn't want to cry in front of a goddess.

"It wasn't your fault." Kristin stands next to him, Tommy straightening up to meet her.

"Wasn't it?" he feels a tear run down his face, as he stares at the spot in that gates where Ghostbur was just moments ago.

"It was Dream's, as are so many others. Just because he punished you, doesn't mean it wasn't his fault, to begin with. Chances are, it was his fault more than anyone else's," Kristin says, her hand still running Tommy's back. He sniffles. "Are you ready to go?"

"No."

"I know, I'm sorry." Kristin's hand leaves his back, and it takes all his willpower to turn away from the small cottage and follow her. They make it back to the path, and she stops, "Oh, he gave this to me, but I don't really need it, so here. Have some blue."

That's when Tommy cries.

She's holding out a handful of light blue wool, he opens his left hand to show his one wool, now a dark blue. He reaches out, quickly, snatching it out of her hands, and he sobs out a sorry. The blue, once again, turns dark blue on contact. Then it turns clear- and then immediately turns dark blue again. It fluctuates between clear, and every shade of blue, as more and more tears fall from his face. He blocks out Kristin's words on habit- Wilbur would be telling him to suck it up by now. He tries to stop the tears, to stop sobbing, to regain composure, but he can't.

"I- I- I've- I'm a murd- I murdered pe- people- I'm not- a good p- person- why- did he tr- eat me like- I was- he treat- they tre- treated me like- like- like- like a human- when no- no one else- did- and- look at- look at where that got h- him-" Tommy turns his face into Kristin's side, and she hugs him close, closing her wings around him too. He holds the blue up to his face, letting the tears catch in it.

"Tommy, there's a reason they chose you. It's because they saw what you could be- who you could be. They wanted to help you. They knew, under all that doubt and hurt and regret was a boy who loved his friends. And they love you, too. I swear on it." She keeps rubbing circles into his back, letting Tommy cry. "I know all about sorrow, Tommy," she says, kind, "I understand that you will hurt. There's no bringing back who you lost, and it will hurt for as long as you live- but that hurt is proof that you care. It's proof that you are a good person. You are a good person."

Tommy breathes in a long shuddering breath, and lets it out, moving his arms to hug her back.

"Thank you, mom- oh wait I'm sorry-" Tommy pulls back, absolutely mortified at his slip-up, Kristin just laughs- not at Tommy, no, no, it's happy… motherly.

"No, Tommy, I can be your mother if you'd like!" She smiles.

"Yeah, because Puffy is kinda my dad because Phil didn't really do a good job." Tommy looks down at his feet.

"Oh, of course, I think my husband would be fine with adopting another kid. Although, considering what happened to the first one- I'm kidding, I'm kidding, he could have turned out worse," Kristin laughs, holding Tommy’s face and wiping away the tear marks.

"Wait- wasn't I flirting with you a few minutes ago-" Tommy smiles, laughing too.

"Oh my-"

"Welp, you're still my mother now- that makes you a milf, you're welcome!" Tommy doesn't mean anything by it, of course, he's just pointing it out.

"Tommy!!" Kristin laughs harder, and Tommy's smile grows bigger. "We should get you back anyways, you need some sleep."

"But moooooooom-" Tommy complains, joking, of course.

"Now, now, Tommy, I am your mother, I know what's best," Kristin says, picking up the bit.

"My stomach hurts, do I have to go to school tomorrow?" Tommy jokes, walking back towards the archway.

"Oh dear," Kristin tsks, walking next to him, putting the back of her hand up to his forehead, "You don't seem to have a fever at the moment, we'll see how you feel in the morning."

They laugh and joke around until they reach the portal, and she reaches up to pluck a feather from her hat and hand it to Tommy.

"A token for my son. Something you can flaunt around. Also- can you do me a favor?" Kristen smiles.

"Oh, of course!" Tommy gingerly takes the feather and spins it around in his fingers.

"When you get back, can you just tell my husband I said hi? He'll see it." She looks through the empty portal longingly, and Tommy wonders who this husband is.

"If he ever hurts you I'll kill him, " He says, completely serious.

Kristin laughs, "I know you will, Tommy, I know you will. Thank you." She snaps her fingers and the archway leads into his house. She ruffles his hair, and Tommy playfully swats her hand away. "I'll see you again, be safe, ok?"

"I will. Tell Ghostbur, if you can, that…. Tell him that I'm sorry, and that I miss him?" He says, one foot through the gateway, before stopping and looking back.

"I will. Good luck, Tommy.” She smiles, and Tommy can’t help but smile back. He steps through the portal, and looks back one last time- and it’s gone. He sees those oak doors, the prime path outside, he hears Shroud above him. His smile stays.

/msg all: Hey, Kristin’s husband? She says hi.

He laughs.

/msg all: She also adopted me so I’m your son now, good luck L kekw

With that, he closes his communicator and lets the chaos ensue. He spins the feather in one hand and holds the blue- back in its original... substance? He opens his ender chest, placing the blue somewhere he knows he’ll find it, and lays the feather next to his discs.

“Thank you. I’ll do you proud.”

[adowbaldwin]

Oasis

requested by @madwriterscorner  :) The title made me giggle, so i hope the reference is not missed on anyone!!!

Ps. i kind of suck at time frames, so it’s ‘roughly’ ahahaha

510…ish…

Lucius and Hugh sat tall and proud atop their stallion’s, and the small thing blocking their road had to crane his neck to reach their full heights. He thought them to be out of this world, Gods he could not quiet reach.

“Boy move before you are trampled” the dark haired one barked, he knew him to be Sieur only and could not find the words for his response. He was almost starstruck

“Are you deaf” the other copper one growled, slightly huffing "or stupid”. He eyed the thing with disgust ridden on his face, and encouraged his horse to step closer to the boy with a small kick “Perhaps you wish to be trampled on” he growled

“LUCIUS!” Hugh berated his temperamental brother “do not dare, you are not in Rome any longer” his voice had shot out half as a command, and half in jest.

Lucius smirked over his shoulder “You are right brother, if we were in Rome he would have no head” the boy skated back on his heels, hoping to avoid certain death

“I was here first” his brows furrowed as he looked down kicking a stone out of the path

Lucius had been circling the boy on his horse as if to torment him, though this comment stopped him in his tracks and he shot down from his horse grabbing the child by the shoulders “what did you say” his jaw was clenched, teeth rattling under the pressure and he knelt down to the boys level

“i-“ he stuttered, then regained his composure looking him square in the face “I was here first. You interrupted my path. I was getting wood an-“

His story had been cut off when he felt leather connect to his rear, and he yelped in shock “you best learn manners boy or ill beat them into you” Lucius rose from his couched position, and when the boy looked up he fell back onto his now saw bottom

“Lucius, stop toying with the child and get a move on” Hugh knew better then to interrupt his little brother when he had prey in his sights and wished that he would just hurry up and either kill it or leave it. He wanted to drink the day away, not spend it in the forest.

“what is your name boy” the last word came out as almost a threat, though it was not usually formed in that way

The boys self-preservation had been launched out of the window some years ago and he did not take kindly to men whom used their influence to belittle others. He had not yet been a mature age, but he would not be pushed around by them “what is your name, Sieur” he tried with might to spit the last word out as venomous as the devil in front of him had, and in a decades to come he would manage. Not today, though.

Hugh sucked in the air around him, bracing himself for the impact he would not feel himself. He winced when he saw Lucius draw his hand back and deliver a harsh slap to the boys bum, and had closed his eyes by the time Lucius reached 10.

He was sniffling, though not crying. Not even his own father had punished him so hard, and he had caused far greater mischief at home then he had thar day.

Lucius grabbed his skinny arm and threw him on his horse, and the boy lay on his stomach over the saddle “Next time boy tell me your name” he growled, and aimed back towards the village to return it to which way it came from.

 520…ish…

Lucius’ sword scraped along the ground and the stone bit out an ear piercing screech at the contact “Matthaeus, keep slipping the wood from your shoulders and I will tan your rear” he smirked “no matter how you’ve aged”

Matthews shoulder ached from the constant, unrelenting work he had been subjected to for the past three months. The De Clermonts had demanded requested another part to their stone tower, and his craftsmanship had been sought after. He welcomed the work, and begrudged the barbarian whom had been overseeing the build.

Matthew huffed, disgruntled at the sheer lack of decency by this muck-spouted, quisby fopdoodle. Matthew used every derogatory word in his capability to describe Lucius, and he chuckled thinking of the wonderous foul language

“You jest, please share” Lucius growled, becoming impatient with the runt

“You wish to distract me from my important work, Sieur” He smirked back, using his free hand to wipe a stray bead of sweat “your father will not be pleased”

“speak less of my father and more of what thoughts ensued such joyous laughter” his arms stretched out to emphasize his speech as his voice became mocking

Hugh looked over nervously and had secured his blade within it’s sheath knowing within all of three minutes be would referee his brother and the human. They had yet to come to physical blows, and Hugh knew it would occur soon and hoped his home would be built before his brother murdered the towns best stonemason.

“I cannot speak such thoughts as they bare ill towards my Sieur, and I fear he may redden my ass” he quipped back, tipping his chin higher “perhaps though he looks for an excuse to darken my rear” he chuckled, and the men around let a small laughter escape

Lucius face fell at the insinuation and Hughs eye’s popped out of his skull. His brother was known in every city for being a woman loving, bed hopping whore and this suggestiveness would anger him.

Lucius took slow, purposeful steps toward in the impotent swine and the light of day shuddered in response “What did you say” he growled

Matthew, having been one of two men who dared challenge Lucius (the other only being Sieur Philippe) dropped the wood he was holding and met the man in the middle of the stoned courtyard “I said, perhaps you endeavour to redden my ass as an excuse to see it in all its glory” he bit out. He had grown to an impossible human height, and now matched the vampire in length. Where he did lack though, was the brawn the Roman possessed.

Lucius thought better of satisfying the runt with a reply, and simply patted him on the shoulder. He leant in to whisper to him “you will learn to regret that, boy”

Everyone had been shocked at the calm, collectiveness of Sieur Lucius that day and thought he may have changed.

He had not.

 Three weeks later

It had been a difficult few weeks, and his work never seemed to end. The days had gotten longer and the work excruciating. One solace had been his unrelenting ruler Lucius had not made much comment since the day some weeks ago. He had kept out of Matthews way, and managed to be as polite as he could. That was unsettling.

Matthew made the short walk to his home, dreaming of his awaiting cot and he could practically smell the stew wafting through the streets awaiting for him to return home.

His ears picked up an odd sound coming through his stone walls, and tentatively stepped inside his home. He had almost vomited at the unsightly thing he had been subjected to; his loving, wonderful mother whom he doted on had been ontop of their dining table being entertained by the devil.

He had seen enough; the copper haired bastard had sarded with his mother.

His slammed the door with an ominous thunk, and sank down on the stone wall out of earshot. He would have stern words with his mother, and a sharp knife for him.

The door creaked open and Lucius had looked proud of himself. He thought he had done a good deed, the woman was widowed and short of this months tax payments. Her sons efforts to keep a roof over their heads had been noticed but he felt entitled to ensure she made up the rest of the payments. The added bonus being her impertinent son had seen, and he could not doubt his intentions again.

He made good measure to ensure Matthew had seen him jostling his trousers and tucking in his unruly clothing before approaching him on the stone wall. Matthew rose from his seat, his face riddled with hatred “You utter bastard” his sent a dissatisfying week shove to him, and this ensued hysterics from the blood sucker

He grinned “I was collecting your taxes” he could not manage any anger, he had released his frustrations on the boys mother (and she had accepted them happily and satisfied) “Do not fear boy, you will not have to call me father” he tipped his head back roaring with laughter as he retreated.

As he had gotten further away, Matthew had hoped staring a hole through his head would result in him dying.

It did not.

530…ish?...

Ysabaeu had almost looked sad at the sorrowful state lying crumpled on the floor. Matthew, the bright boy from the village laid broken on the cobbles. She had sensed his bones were no longer in tact and knew if she did not act quick, the world would lose a bright spark.

Lucius grumbled loudly looking at his stepmother whom had a doe-eyed expression. She was about to make it her child. “Perhaps he will be fine” he tried to reason, and gave his leg a quick tap for good measure “see, hardly broken”

Ysabaeu growled, stepping over the broken body to his side “if you do not wish to be in the same sorrowful state, I suggest you leave”

“Now, there is no such need for dramatics” Philippes voice boomed unnecessarily loud and the world almost stood still everytime he spoke “Come Lucius, leave Ysabaeu to her own devices”

He looked to the pitiful sight on the floor and shrugged “all over a woman” he spat “pathetic”. Lucius could not fathom a love so deep a man would fling himself from a bell tower and thought him week to do so. Perhaps he could sympathise the loss of a child, but he could not care for it. He sneered, and left awaiting the arrival of his pitiful new brother.

 Matthews transformation had been far from easy, and with his sickened blood Lucius had found new reason to hate him. He had known Ysabeaus was tainted, but he had to feign a care for her since she was mated to his father. This thing he did not care to like.

He saw an opportunity now Matthew had turned and took great satisfaction in knowing the next time they shared words he could beat him in every way he had dreamed of. No longer a frail human, he would choke him till his heart exploded with joy.

He had been known for a shortened temper, but it was something about this oozing sack of self-pitying puss that truly angered him. As a boy he was self-entitled, in puberty he was utterly impudent and in adulthood he has acted like a degenerate. If it were not for his skills in building, his head would be nicely mounted to a stick in Lucius room.

As the days drew to a close, Ysabaeu proudly presented her son to her family. The celebratory dinner saw him welcomed, though it truly was just an opportunity for Philippe to be centre of everyone’s attention.

Matthew had not liked the crowded feel and had been grateful for his now ‘step-father’ taking up the role of entertainer, host and joker. His mind still burned from the memory of his wife and child and his heart bled in pain thinking of his loss. How he could go on, why he had agreed to go on wounded his thoughts as he betrayed his love and his God.

His eyes met Lucius across the dining table, his own dark orbs to his golden, fiery ones. He could feel the hate burn his veins, and did not once avert his gaze as he would have done as a human.

“Lucius” Philippes melodic voice broke the trance “Come, lets walk our grounds” His arm swung over the shoulder of his favourite son and goaded him into leaving the table

The sweltering, humid air had reflected the conversation at hand hot and stifling. Atleast, that is how Lucius felt “Come now Son, I trust no other with this” Philippe tried to reason. His most trusted, favoured son had a wicked temper but he could not place this into the hands of another.

“I do not understand, why of everyone you burden me with such a task” he growled, though it were more of a petulant child grumble then of a genuine challenging nature

“Ysabaeu’s sickened bloodline cannot be uncovered, nor Matthews affliction. I need you to be his guardian. To ensure he is kept in check” Phillipe tightened the grip on his shoulder and sighed deeply “Please”

He was not one for begging, but his relationship with this boy had been different. In some respects, despite the age gap he saw Lucius as his equal, someone he could admire for his sharp mind. He thought paces ahead of anyone around and even sometimes himself.

Lucius regarded this request, and thought of no other way to make this tolerable “if you expect I take Matthew as my charge, expect I shall not refrain from relentlessly making his life a misery, and beating him” he folded his arms across his broad chest and stood in front of his father holding the upper ground “and so help me God, if he ever does something to jeopardise the family, I will put him down”

Philippe nodded, knowing better to argue once he had set his mind “do try to atleast be friendly with him”

“I attempted so once, I allowed his mother to slip on taxes” he tipped his chin upward patronisingly “he was ungrateful”

Philippe gave his boy a stern look “Sarding his mother is not attempting to be friendly. It is antagonising”

“How does the corpse of his dead wife fair?” He smirked maliciously as his father’s face fell

“You are a very sick boy, Lucius” he shook his head in disbelief. He had known this was said in jest, but the depths of his bleak imagination had been one of the few thigs still to surprise the ancient being.

“No father, Matthew is the sick one. I am perfectly well, perhaps you are losing your mind”.

The clip around the earlobe Lucius received from that comment could still be felt almost 2000 years later.

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Kit Berker AGE & BIRTH DATE. 35 & July 19th, 1986 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/him SPECIES. Werewolf OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Serkay Tütüncü

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: domestic abuse, gore ) Kit was born in Harlan, Kentucky to Abigail and Arthur Weiss. His mother worked at one of the highway diners all day while his father worked in the mines. Mostly anyone under the middle class made a living working in the Harlan Hills. The moment that Kit was the legal age he joined right up with his father. Coming home covered in coal dust and dirt, smoking a cigarette and nursing a beer on the porch. Kit was so tired most of the time that it became real easy to tune out the yelling and screaming of his parents having their nightly domestic. Often ending with a crash of something breakable and his mother weeping in the bathroom with a glass of wine. Harlan County was the kind of place where you don't ask too many questions and you don't stare too long. Everyone kept to themselves, you certainly did not confront your neighbor who you saw coming home late last night covered in blood, and you absolutely did mention a troubled marriage. Everyone knew what was going on; nobody dared say anything. The worst was in church with the side eyes and whispers. 

When Kit turned Twenty-two his father was killed by his mother. Across the dining room table, a beautiful dinner was laid out. His father on one end, his mother on the other. He was talking too much, saying derogatory things. “You’re worthless, you call this food?. What kind of a woman are you?” etc. She must have finally had it and let a shotgun shell cut straight into Arthur’s head. Brain matter and blood splattering the window behind him. Kit hadn’t been home at the time and ended up finding out after getting off a shift at the mine. Called down to the police station, the scene was described to him and told that his mother wouldn’t be going to prison. On the account of claiming it was self defense. Everyone in Harlan County knew she was being abused. It was just a matter of time before she lost it. 

Living under the same roof as his mother was uncomfortable, sure Kit loved her and understood entirely why she did what she did. But there was some tension and uneasiness that Kit would feel whenever he would sit across the table from her in the same spot where his dad got his brains splattered on the dining room window. So he left, quit his job at the mine, took all his savings and headed North. Finding a job up there wasn’t hard. Getting himself sorted on a ranch that raised livestock, most of his duties were fixing things and herding the cattle too and from grazing grounds. The owners were especially nice to him, and they ended up getting pretty close. They were a younger couple who inherited the farm from their family and just needed help around the place since it was such a large property. Kit happily obliged, and of course the paycheque helped. There were a couple of ‘em, people looking for jobs that paid mostly under the table, but they were all good folk. 

There were predators that would come and pick off the cattle now and again, most of the time it was just pesky coyotes who were easy to scare off. But a couple mornings, the farm hands would stumble across the corpse of a cow ripped apart by something much bigger. Everyone assumed it was a bear, and night patrols were set out in the evenings. Armed with a rifle, Kit headed out on his own, riding a horse around the property. Keeping the cows herded closer to the homestead. He could remember the moon being at its peak when his horse started acting strange because he could clearly see the fearful whites of the horses eyes as he was flung from it’s back and hit the ground with a hard thud and snap. His hand catching his fall and snapping under the pressure, letting out a painful cry and holding the broken wrist against his chest, eyes rising to watch his horse running off in the opposite direction, gaze trailing to the tree line where he spotted two yellow orbs staring straight at him. Everything after that was chaos, he tried to get up to run but his legs felt like jello, he went to grab his rifle but it was impossible to hold right with only one hand. The thing got closer and closer, a low growl emitting from it’s form. From a distance, Kit thought it was just a regular wolf, but as it got closer it got bigger and bigger. A massive beast that could fit Kit’s entire head in it’s mouth if it wanted. He clumsily fired off a shot that hit the wolf in the leg, it didn’t even flinch. Lunging at the man who was now helpless on the ground. 

Kit could remember a lot of pain in his arm before blacking out, found only half an hour after the attack since the ranchers heard the gunshot. Miraculously they managed to get him to the hospital without him bleeding out. In the emergency room for only a few days before the large bite wound in shoulder was on it’s way to being completely healed. “A miracle” the doctors and nurses would explain to him as he finally came to with what happened. No matter how much he insisted he could go back to work, the kind owners of the farm wouldn’t allow it and said that he should take the month off after a scare like that. But as the days went by Kit was only feeling stronger and stronger, like a second wind was breathed into him. He left the hospital a week later when they could no longer rationalize keeping him there. But it was in the weeks that followed when he realized something was wrong with him. The full moon approached rapidly as he was tending to the animals making sure they were all herded back before it got too dark. 

The way he felt that night he couldn’t possibly describe, it was a mix of anger, strength, fear all mixed together that sent his body into a quivering mess beneath the full moon. Everything he was feeling was amplified and he had to have thrown up at least once or twice as he curled up in the middle of the pasture. His horse had run off, the livestock wouldn’t come anywhere near him and as soon as the last cloud passed away from the sky and the moon hit its peak, his body snapped and fractured, breaking down on itself. If you asked Kit to recall how he felt in that moment the absolutely couldn’t, after both his legs snapped out of place he blacked out. Only waking at sunrise in a misty field with his face buried in the rapidly cooling corpse of a cow. Luckily no one had spotted him out there in the pasture and while naked and covered head to toe in blood he wobbled back to his cabin on the property, hiding behind the locked door for days.

Irrationally he believed that it was obvious he was the culprit, he was the last one out there, but the body of the heifer was mangled to a point that pointed towards a large animal not a “human” He had to get off the farm, at least for a little while, while no one suspected him. After the first time he went through the shift, Kit had grown to be more careful, making sure he was alone whenever a full moon came around. Controlling his emotions well enough to keep from shifting out of the blue. But the dates slipped his mind, he’d been working so much and was getting exhausted and careless. He never would’ve gone into the city had he known. It was just supposed to be a quick drink at one of the local pubs and then he’d head home, but it turned into a couple drinks and by the time he left the bar the street lights had come on and the moon was rising further up into the sky. He could feel the power tingling down his arms and through his fingers. A change he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t have many options, peeling away from the streets he ducked into an alley to let the wolf take control under the cover of darkness. It wasn’t ideal and the fear of killing someone in the city was ever present in the forefront of his mind while his body shifted and cracked into a monstrous form of broken bones and torn flesh. 

A wolffish creature emerged from where the small human once was, a mind of its own as he scavenged through the dumpsters and garbage that scattered around him. It wasn’t long before it caught the scent of a human walking by. A poor victim for the monstrous beast.the growl that erupted from the back of his throat resonated off the close walls of the alley way, creeping forward as yellow eyes fixated on the now frightened form of a young man. The moment his victim spotted the wolf, he lunged, hackles raised and long teeth the size of kitchen knives tore into soft flesh. It took every ounce of Kits willpower to tear the beast away from the boy before he could mangle the corpse pass recognition. By the time he left, he thought he had killed him, with the amount of blood he left behind. But the wolf wasn’t satisfied, stalking the streets looking for a feast. 

Again, Kit would wake up surrounded by the sickening scent of blood, however instead of the corpse of a cow, it was a person. A man, no older than 35, body torn to pieces, missing a arm. Looking around Kit felt sick to his stomach when he couldn’t find it around the body and assumed the worst. Crawling to the side of the road he retched whatever remained in his stomach. It took a couple more minutes to realize he wasn’t in a pasture or a forest where he wouldn’t be noticed. He was on the corner of a street, a cross walk just a couple feet down from him where he spotted people approaching, someone had already pulled out a cellphone to record. Panic set in, and again butt naked and covered in blood he made a run for it, luckily he was on the edge of town and could cut through the forest to make it back to the farm. Too bad his wolf self didn’t kill that poor sap just a mile down the road. 

By the time he made it back to the farm it was daylight, the farmhands were already out and about and making it to his cabin was no easy feat. The only way without being seen was to go around the homesteaders farm house, where he saw the wife cooking with the tv on through the big bay windows, while hiding in the shrubbery he could hear a loud travel ad for Greece came on, tickets were cheap for economy, and the exhausted and out of ideas Kit, made the decision to grab what little he had and make a beeline out of the country before he could be identified.

PERSONALITY

+ hardworking, passionate, selfless – nervous, impulsive, stubborn

PLAYED BY NOAH. EST. He/Him.

[inkedfingersat4am]

boys will be boys

[Trigger warning: mentions of abuse]

As a young girl,I was taught that I shouldn’t hate boys,I shouldn’t fight back to them regardless of what they did to me because it wasn’t ladylike,they probably only did it because they liked me and boys will be boys,right? I tried to remind myself that when in fourth grade,I went home with cuts and bruises because a boy was pissed that I did better than him on our English test and he wanted to get even with me.I didn’t fight back because as my teacher had always said,“that’s just how it is,honey,boys will be boys”.It was one of the two things that she had said to me that never left my mind,along with the reminder of how a real boy and a real girl can be distinguished from the “others”. I was twelve when I was molested repeatedly but I didn’t do or say a thing except try to get out of this dirty,wretched skin because it was probably my own fault, I shouldn’t have such precocious breasts at an early age. Ha!What was I thinking?Going through puberty like that,looking all sexualized when I know that grown men cannot control their urges. Stupid little girl, how could she forget that boys will be boys? I was thirteen, when I was told about the “proper” way to dress and act because I might provoke the boys and they could be ruined for life. I was fourteen when I was first told what my hips,my thighs,my legs,my bottoms and my chest should be like,in the way that most boys like. Because the only way I’ll ever validate my existence is when a boy takes me as his and to do that I should be what most boys like: not too tall,not too short,not too skinny but also not fat,witty,funny and smart but I also need to know when to shut the hell up. And I can’t change that because it’s the unspoken rule in our world,and no,I can’t try to convince the boys either (my ability to know when to shut up is put to use here,because it doesn’t matter if you’re the oppressed, you need to shut the hell up and grovel before the patriarchy just like everyone else) because that’s just the way they are and boys will be boys. I was fifteen when I witnessed the torture that some of my guy friends experienced because they acted like “girls”,as if my gender is an insult, as if being a girl automatically makes you weak and helpless.(Since when did being supposedly invincible and not crying made a boy a real man?I don’t think that’s what real masculinity is about.Does being a real man or woman come with corresponding terms and conditions?) It was only a few months ago when a rapist walked free despite destroying the life of a college girl.He did not get convicted because she was reportedly drunk and he was a boy and boys will be boys. (So, who will take the blame?the alcohol or the girl?were they the ones who forced themselves on someone against that someone’s will?) This case took me back to a decade ago when one of my best friends was sexually abused by an older man but nobody helped him, they told him to just toughen up, rape isn’t real for him because he was a boy and boys will be boys. And I wonder,when will these monsters finally be convicted for their crimes? When will the guilty boys be held accountable for their actions? When will the pain of other boys finally be considered valid,when will being of the sex that they are stop making them “not really victims”? When will one’s gender stop being an excuse or in some cases—serve as a derogatory name? When will the screams,cries and pleas of women abused and victimized everywhere be loud enough for you? Loud enough so that you might actually feel their agony creep in your bones,consume your whole being that all you’d want to do is crawl out of your skin,loud enough so that you might actually begin to understand how it feels like to be us,objectified and dehumanized,loud enough so that you might actually hear the pleas of boys and other men everywhere,asking to be freed from gender roles that limits their ability to exist beyond labels or to feel pain. I wonder just when will you stop using my gender as an insult,just when will you stop telling the world how a real man or woman should be? Please do tell because the little faith in humanity that still resides in us is slowly fading. From where I see it,I feel as if there’s no hope. There will be no hope as long you all remain slaves to bigotry and the patriarchy. I guess,there’s no hope for your mothers,daughters,even other boys and young girls like me as of this time. And maybe,when another rabid man decides that he wants as his meal for the day,like I am meat,like I am something to be consumed and spent,I would just have to accept my fate. Maybe,as my lifeless and ravished body lies motionless in an alley somewhere, you would be shaking your head, condemning the girl who was stupid enough to walk alone at night,unaccompanied,the girl who was “asking for it” because she wore “revealing"clothes,the girl who probably got what was coming for her because she didn’t know when to shut her mouth,the girl who thought she could exist the way she wanted when she knew full well that there are rules,stigmas and that boys will be boys.

-Winona

10/13/2016

[3500things]

national coming out day 2019

originally posted 10.11.2019 on my personal facebook page

To everyone:

National Coming Out Day is today, Friday October 11, 2019.

And I know this post is late. I realize it is after midnight on the east coast so technically it isn’t National Coming Out Day anymore, but something happened tonight that was monumental- and I didn’t get to finish my initial thought while writing earlier. Keep reading, please:

I am excited to celebrate in my first National Coming Out Day, in 2019, as an officially-out member of the gay community. However, today has been very emotional as it causes me to pause for a moment and reflect on my own journey and how I arrived here. As I am reading articles and newsfeeds on the internet today and seeing people compelled in the acceptance and encouragement of this day, to come out, I must say I have very pointed and mixed emotions.

I have mentioned and identified myself as a gay man in a few blogs that I have written recently (that I am sure nobody reads), however, this is really the first time I have publicly acknowledged it as a whole on Facebook- other than to those who I have directly come out to. I have taken pleasure in promoting myself as an ally for a few years now, but I am tired of hiding behind that identity and am ready to step out into the light and live a full, unfiltered and authentic life.

I have known I was different for a long time. I felt feelings as a young child that I simply did not understand, and those feelings did not go away- they never have and only intensified over time. I was raised in an extremely conservative-Christian household, taught that being gay was an immoral and unnatural thing, I got the hellfire and brimstone speech and I was encouraged and forced to speak hate towards things that were supposedly against God. And I did those things. And I hurt people. And I never wanted to do them. But, I always knew that I was what I was forced to speak out about.

I became extremely depressed and suicidal in my teenage years. I tucked away my true self and I damaged myself mentally and physically with the rhetoric I was forced to digest. I never felt like I could be me, until now. In this moment. But getting to this point hasn’t been easy. It has been countless therapy sessions, panic attacks, many nights crying myself to sleep and length of time to get me to finally accept myself and allow myself to explore with the God-given (yes, God-given) gift that being gay has ultimately brought me.

Let’s talk about God for just a quick moment. Know that I am a spiritual person but there is no religion here. Not a drop.

You can throw Genesis 19, Leviticus 18 & 20, Romans 1:18-32, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and 1 Timothy 1:8-10 at me all day. The Bible says what it says, but it does not mean anything to me personally. The Bible was a manuscript that was written for an ancient time, in an ancient time and does not take into consideration the advancements in human thought and condition over the many years since its inception. The Bible should not be a standard to compare, govern nor should it be used as a tool ultimately control how people live nowadays. Without discrediting the text itself, I do believe there are great life-lessons to be learned from the Bible about love and how to conduct yourself in a more upright way. However, I believe that taking the current Christian argument to the case of homosexuality is the wrong thing to do. And I will vehemently disagree with anyone who does this. It is damaging. It is hurtful and it adds no real value to anything.

Contrary to what religious types will argue, being gay is not wrong. It is not ungodly; it is not a sin and gay people will not go to Hell- even if there is such a place. Being gay is way more than a physical thing. It is an emotional intelligence, it is the idea of love, acceptance and tolerance that comes with a huge responsibility. Being gay is not defined by who you love or choose to be intimate with or enter into marriage with. It is not a choice; it is a reality, a truth, a tangible thing. It is also a greater expansion of oneself, ones spirit and your ability to express love and accept love.

Saying that I was a repressed gay man until the age of 34 is the understatement of the year. I wanted so desperately to explore my sexuality in high school, when at age 16 I decided that I had struggled long enough with trying to figure out what being gay meant and finally internally accepted that I was.

However, I didn’t have the freedom to operate in or express my sexuality, as a teen in my household, at the time. I got bullied in school for not dating women, so I did, and I eventually married a woman. Several years in, while trying rather unsuccessfully at keeping the charade going and while being accused almost daily of being a closeted gay man- we divorced. I had to lie to my friends and family, I had to create a scenario where I was the good guy and she was the bad guy and she did all these things that contributed to the breakdown in our marriage. I wanted something that I felt like I couldn’t have at the time and I couldn’t be the partner she needed much less deserved. We are both better people apart than we ever were together and marrying her is the single biggest regret in my life.

As I’ve grown older and started to formulate my own opinions and ideas about things, I decided to distance myself from my faith and seek a journey of my own understanding. Part of that journey was finally resolving in this year to come out to friends and family.

I told everyone by the end of July, except my dad. I know his opinion of gay folks- he has made it clear. Nothing derogatory of course, but the ignorance to it shows through sometimes. I also know where he stands from a religious perspective- he has also made that clear. He has accepted my friends who are gay, he wants to meet my new friends who are RubiGirls, see a drag show and he wants to know things or ask things but is sometimes hesitant to do it.

I’ve been on an exposure-therapy campaign with him over the past several months. I put a pride flag in my bedroom, some drag queen paraphernalia went on display, I went to 2 Pride celebrations this year- one in Dayton and the other in Cincinnati. He knows what I’m doing is out of the ordinary for me because I’ve never done it before but have always wanted to and have been interested in it. I wanted to go to a Pride event for many years, but I just couldn’t do it. So, as I’ve slowly been exposing him to things and being a little more vocal about my standpoints and viewpoints on LGBTQIA+ issues in the news and culture, he has started to gather and form an opinion.

Today, I was reading a page on Facebook that stated it was a moderated safe space for individuals who were not out to talk and share their stories. What I read was heartbreaking; just the sheer ignorance of parents and things they say to their children just for being gay. I wanted to talk to dad about it, and I did. I told him some of the terrible things that happened to people- mostly issues between sons and fathers- and he expressed to me his disgust with families disowning children just for being gay. I understand and fully appreciate his comment of “…well, I don’t understand it totally, but I’d want my kid to be happy and healthy. There are bigger ‘crimes’ than being gay.”

This ultimately led into a 90+ minute conversation where I was able to tell him how I felt and my entire 16-year backstory. There is more to discuss between he and I, but my tone was measured and precise. The main thing I needed to say, in order to heal myself, be true to myself and allow myself to advance in my life were these 4 words: Dad, I am gay.

We talked and talked some more. He is not mad, a little confused (which is a normal response), and more reflective. He expressed to me that he wants me to be happy, healthy and to make wise decisions (typical dad advice). He also said he loves me and supports me, and always will, regardless of any decision I make – good or bad – in my life.

What a relief this is! On my first real National Coming Out Day I was able to finish writing the prologue of my story of becoming the person I always knew I could be. I am starting to write the chapters of my new life around all the garbage that is in the past. It’s a new day and I am ready to face it with the full support and love of my parents by my side. I truly am blessed and lucky to have this experience play out as it did. A lot of people do not get what I have, and I am very fortunate.

For those of you who need support in whatever journey you may be on, reach out to me if you feel comfortable in doing so. I’m a safe person to come out to. If you’re reading this and you have questions, contact me too. I’m an open book- ask away. If you’re reading this, and you have nothing positive or of value to say then move on.

Thanks for allowing me to share my life so unfiltered and express that vulnerability on the internet for all to consume. This goes a long way in my healing and with moving forward in my life. And, thank you to all of those who have supported me in the past several months as I have made declarations to you about my life. Your love and support mean the world to me and I can never thank you enough.

Love, Jacob

[theomotaku]

FFXV Ignis Omorashi

They were on their way to Lestalum when Ignis noticed a slight fullness in his bladder. No matter, it wasn't that urgent yet - he could wait until they got to the city. Except, for a moment, he forgot one teeny, tiny (read: major, terrifying) detail. Noct. Was driving. The Regalia. Type-D. He just had to hope Noct wouldn't try anything too crazy...

Trusting Noct to not go crazy was a foolish mistake. The prince was mostly staying off the road and, it seemed to Ignis, trying to jump every rock they pass! And, as if the jolts to his bladder from the jumps weren't bad enough, it had started filling more quickly! Damn those two cans of Ebony he drank earlier! Ignis crosses his legs tightly and squirmed a bit, hoping that Gladio wouldn't notice. That's when it happened...

A big jump gone wrong and Ignis went flying out of his seat, slamming his belly into the back of the driver seat and putting far too much pressure on his bladder! The royal advisor stayed standing for a moment, too stunned from embarrassment to move. Oh, yes. He knew as soon as he left his seat that this would be it. He felt hot urine running down his legs. He just knew everyone could hear it and smell it. Ahhh, the relief was, well, a relief, though. He made himself stop and he sat back down.

Ignis was so embarrassed and a bit angry with himself. He wanted to cry. But he wouldn't let himself. 'Nobody knows. You can still salvage the situation. Don't draw attention to yourself,' he thinks sternly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gladio didn't know what was wrong with Iggy, but he knew it must be something big. It took a lot to make the younger man cry, and there were silent tears rolling down his face. He scooted over and put an arm around the smaller man's shoulders, pulling him toward himself. He let Iggy cry into his chest for a few minutes before he finally, as quietly as he could so as to hopefully not let the boys up front hear, asked what was wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gladio doesn't whisper very quietly. Promto heard his "What's wrong, Iggy?" loud and clear. He strained his ears, but didn't hear anything else. He stopped trying to listen after a few minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's wrong, Iggy?" Gladio asked. Ignis did nothing but shake his head. Against Gladio's chest... Why? He sat up and felt the tears on his cheeks. How long had he been crying? Why did he let himself cry?

"I'm fine," he managed, though his voice was raw with emotion and louder than he meant for it to be.

"Specs, do you need me to pull over?" Noct asked from the driver seat.

Noctis heard the roughness in Specs's voice. He only sounds like that when he's trying not to cry or has already been crying. And he usually only cries when in extreme pain or emotional turmoil - that is to say, usually blaming himself harshly for something beyond his control. That's why Noct offered to pull over. Of course, Specs said no. Gladio and Prompto both said yes. It was getting dark anyway. He could see the blue light from a haven. He stopped beside it, worried that Ignis was injured and trying to jump the Regalia onto the large rock would make it worse.

"Flashlights on, everyone," Prompto said as soon as he jumped out of the car.

Noct switched his flashlight on and went to the door Specs would be getting out of.

"Hey, Noct, you ready?" Gladio asked- seemingly reading the prince's mind. Noct called up his affirmation.

"Really, I don't need help." Ignis tried to convince the others, voice a little more normal now. He backed away from Gladio.

Ignis didn't realize how close he was to the door. The open door. He backed away from Gladio and fell backward, out of the Regalia. Another thing he didn't realize until he landed facedown on Noct, which once again put too much pressure on his bladder and he began wetting himself again. This time, he didn't hold back, he let himself cry on the prince's shoulder.

Noct awkwardly hugged Ignis. It was a little gross, being peed on, but he knew Specs wouldn't do it if he could control it.

"It's okay, Specky," he said softly. The nickname comforted Ignis somewhat, but it also served to make him feel even more childish.

Prompto and Gladio ran around to the driver's side when Ignis fell. They watched in sympathy as the puddle grew underneath their two friends. They couldn't tell from looking whose urine it was, but they could guess.

"Iggy?" Gladio asked softly. Prompto knelt down beside the two on the ground, hardly caring if he got in the puddle.

"Hey," Prompto placed his hand on Ignis's back, "there's nothing to worry about. Accidents happen."

'Not to me,' Ignis thought. 'How unbecoming! A grown man, the Royal Chamberlain wetting himself. In front of everyone. His charge - the prince, the Royal Shield, and... what is Prompto? Everything I could think to call him sounds derogatory compared to the rest of our titles. The Prince's friend. That's what he is. I need to learn t-'

"I can practically hear what you're thinking, Iggy," Gladio said. "Stop degrading yourself. Come on." He gently moved Prompto and pulled Ignis to his feet. "Prompto's right. There's nothing to be upset about. All we have to do is clean up and then" he waved his hand, "it never happened."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Being lectured by Gladio. Yeah, that didn't make him feel small. Ignis nodded, trying to reign in his emotions. He reaches up to wipe away his tears, but Gladio catches his hand.

"That doesn't mean to bottle your emotions back up," the eldest said, firm yet kind, while gently wiping away Ignis's tears, though they were instantly replaced with new ones.

Noct, having gotten up off the ground a second after Ignis, came up and placed a hand on his shoulder and, a bit awkwardly, said, "Yeah, you keep way too much inside. I got stuff ready for us to clean up. Gladio, Prompto, you can get camp ready, right? They both said yes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After cleaning up, during which Ignis finally properly grieved over the fall of Insomnia and anything else that came to his mind, he and Noctis walked back to the haven together. There, Gladio had set up the tent and Prompto had cooked a simple yet healthy meal. Noct glared at his best friend for putting so many vegetables in their food and mumbled something along the lines of "Some friend you are." This caused Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis to all laugh. Prompto and Gladio cleaned themselves while Noct and Ignis cleaned up their meal once they all finished eating.

They were back to their normal, talking and joking around the fire before bed. Yes, what started out as the worst night of Ignis's adult life turned out rather nice.

[flatstarcarcosa]

1-6 for rust and 20-29 for slade!

cut for length!

What was your first time with your f/o like?

the first time was A Mess because we were both hyped up on whatever had been circulating at the Crusaders’ party. we ended up in some empty room in this run down fucking house fucking over a table, and got walked in on by ginger and his gaggle of goons. i realized later though that ginger and them never realized it was ME rust was with, because he’d leaned forward and put his arm in front of my face, so all they saw was the blonde hair and just assumed he’d found some chick. it was kind of, idk, sweet?? to realize years later he ended up reflexively protecting me from the start. 

How often do you and your f/o have sex?

it depends. pre ‘95 we were going at it pretty wild until he was able to push me out of the crusaders after i got jumped. ‘95 was a mixed bag until the dora lange case was solved, but after that it was pretty regular, a few times a week until shit imploded in ‘02. 

Is the sex between you and your f/o usually sensual? Passionate? Animalistic?

sensual is probably a good fit for the most part. not to sound cliched but we definitely try to convey things through sex that we’re too emotionally constipated to say with words. sometimes rust buries his face in my neck and tells me i need you, and i know that there’s more to it than the immediate, psychical need. (altho what he NEEDS is a therapist lbr here)

How messy is the sex, or do you and your f/o try to keep it as clean as possible?

oh it can get pretty messy, entirely because of me. he tells me once after the fact, because he’d gotten into something in the evidence locker, that when he was married him and his wife could go at it and you couldn’t even tell, “but we go at it and it’s like the goddamn flood sweepin’ noah’s ark away”. 

Do you and your f/o prefer having sex in the dark or with the lights open?

he likes having the lights on. not like, blindingly bright, but a nice soft glow is good. i prefer them off so we compromise sometimes. 

What was the most embarrassing thing to happen between you and your f/o before, during, and/or after sex?

marty caught us once when he was staying with us in ‘95. rust had actually gotten some sleep the night before, and it was right after the dora case got closed, before marty was allowed to move back in w/ maggie and the kids, and well...we do like tables. nothing kills a boner faster than glancing over to see marty walking into the kitchen giving his balls a morning scratch and proclaiming through a yawn “aw, come on man, i fucking eat at that table” followed by “great, i’m gonna be seeing rust’s ass every time i close my eyes now, thanks for that partner.” 

How good is your f/o at oral? How do they use their lips and tongue to pleasure you?

jesus fucking christ slade’s so good at it. and he KNOWS it and he USES that. he’s also into face sitting, and his extra sturdiness from those army experiments means no worries about his neck. he likes to take little breaks though to come up and kiss me, he thinks it’s very important i know what i taste like. 

How does your f/o taste?

like a goddamn killing machine hm, [swirls cum around a wineglass] DO I DETECT A HINT OF NUT??? i want to say like, iunno, tangy? altho outside of the drink i’ve never been able to figure out precisely what tangy even means, but pleasant enough nonetheless. 10/10 would swallow again.

Is there any dirty talk? If so, how dirty? What about pet names and/or derogatory names?

oh jesus there is. so much. like almost every time, it’s rare there’s not. it kind of took a while for us to find the right balance of it though, and i realized during that time apparently i was unintentionally creating some sort of build-a-dom with him, because he actually admits once he didn’t used to be so ‘like that’. he ended up following my cues which basically led to a “hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me” situation. 

the best mix though is an even distribution of degradation and praise. like, absolutely tell me what a filthy fucking boy i am, but be sure to tell me what a good filthy boy i am. he also likes to claim ownership, which is how his dumb ass accidentally pavlov trained himself into going into nut mode whenever someone calls him death//stroke because “slade” as an answer to “whose pussy is this?” wasn’t getting me what i wanted and it was like ten minutes before i came up with the right answer. after that he kept doing it because you know, ego, hubris, etc, and now he’s fucked himself while trying to fuck me, good job, colonel. (oh, great, colonel will be the next thing.) 

How good is your f/o with their hands/fingers?

sO LIKE, i actually have a non-sexual attraction to hands to begin with but i particularly go nuts for slade’s, and usually always want to be fidgeting with one of them as much as possible, so with that said, 

rifp this fucking pussy honestly. he loooves getting fingers involved with oral, and is also good about thumbing up against the clit while balls deep. i actually don’t let him do the second one that often though because it gets to be too much stimulation, but is also the quickest way to get me cumming. he’s misjudged it before and had me done before he was, which of course i used to say “haha look what you did, mr. big man”. he jerked off onto my chest in response.

How loud is your f/o? Do they moan/whine/whimper? Do they curse? Do they call your name like it’s the only thing they know?

for all the talking that goes on he’s actually fairly quiet. because that’s what it is, talking. and he knows what really gets me off is him growling in my ear, not raising his voice. he’s prone to the usual moaning and a few swears here and there. sometimes when i’m being particularly frisky i can manage to weasel this kind of, not high-high pitched, but high pitched for him yelp out of him when i’ve been sucking dick for too long and he literally has to pull me off him. 

i think there was like one single time where i got him to the point where he actually called the safe word instead of pushing me off. (it’s titan, by the way. which was decided as being the most obvious word neither of us would be saying during sex, but my response was also “i dunno, that seems like a good way to turn on your revenge brain and get my neck reflexively snapped”. he didn’t appreciate the joke.) 

Do you and your f/o hold hands while making love? How tightly do they hold onto you?

yee, sometimes. it depends on what position we end up in, or what we’re hanging onto. surprisingly enough i’ve never had a problem with him like, not paying attention and hurting my hands or anything. you’d think it would be a problem, what with the augmented strength, but no it never is. sometimes i feel like he’s holding on because he still thinks i’m not going to be here when he wakes up. 

What’s your f/o’s stamina like? Do they last long or finish quickly? Can they go for multiple rounds?

god bless the us army for that healing factor and enhanced metabolism and stamina can i get a YEE HAW from the crowd!! i mean, yeah he still needs a few minutes, but it’s absolutely multiple rounds. he can usually last a good bit, too, but every now and then that hubris rears up and he gets himself too psyched up playing with me and will come early, but it’s fine, he always makes up for it. 

Is there anything that can make your f/o cum every single time?

every now and then, i will absolutely ride him, and he will fucking go off like a geyser every time. there are times between that and oral where i get a bit puffed up and take the reigns for a bit, and like a dog with a bone, slade goes nuts for it. 

How wrecked/spent does your f/o look by the time the two of you are done? Do they have a dazed look on their face? Completely disheveled hair? Chest heaving for breath?

sometimes the eyepatch ends up getting lost in the shuffle because i’m like “oh shit, handle!” and i may have broken a few straps. if his hair’s grown out enough it’s absolutely a fucking MESS and i have no idea how he can stand to detangle that shit. on rare occasions slade just absolutely knocks the fuck OUT afterwards and i can always tell that whoof, i did a good job when that happens. he always ends up commenting about how well he slept the next morning, so i strut around like a preening peacock for the rest of the day. 

What’s the aftercare like, if there is any?

oh it’s a must if things got intense. lots of nuzzling and kisses and praise and affirmation. also sometimes the heating pad for me because sex can rev up those kidneys and i need to be able to relax everything. and sometimes when the orgasm(s) gets intense enough the flood of hormones makes me cry. 

i judge a good bout of sex by if he falls almost into a coma after, he judges it by if i start crying. but it’s fine, because he kisses my cheeks and tells me again what a good boy i am, and tries very very hard not to laugh too much about the juxtaposition of me during foreplay vs me sobbing intermediately after an orgasm. 

[kingpadackles-blog]

SPN Fans? (Beware VERY VERY Long Post!)

There has only ever been a very small handful of times where I have had to make a public post to call out hypocrisy in this fandom. And now, again, this is one of those times.These past few days I have seen fans, specifically Destiel & Cockles fans, hating on both Jensen & Jared. Some of these fans reasons being valid, while other reasons are just to be malicious to these men simply for the attention of a retweet on Twitter or reblog on Tumblr.

Just to be clear before I even start to delve deep into the several topics of what I am about to discuss. Yes I am a “AA” or whatever people like to insult Jensen fans with. And yes I am a fan and appreciate Jared. And lastly, yes I do ship Wincest. I am not ashamed of it either. All this evidence is visible when you (because I know some of you will) click on my account to view my posts. I normally avoid drama because I am fan that likes to reblog or to simply make posts that support the boys and the wonderful show that is Supernatural. But I do have a decent following and amount of followers on here. And me staying quite on issues like this is almost as bad as the malicious people who attack the SPN actors out of spite.

Now to get to the matters at hand.

Jensen Ackles: I’ve seen Destiel Fans hate on Jensen because he quote on quote “doesn’t speak up enough on political issues.” And when he does he still receives mass amounts of criticism for it. An example of this is when Jensen recently made that #metoo tweet on Twitter to show support for women who have been sexually abused/assaulted/and or harassed. And when I looked at his mentions I honestly cannot even give you the exact number of how many people attacked him for showing support to women because there were so many. I could have taken screenshots & added them in this post, but I wont. That is how disgusting I found them. If anyone would like to know what I am talking about for proof all you have to do is go to Jensen’s Twitter, click on the #metoo tweet, and see for yourself.

Another thing Jensen receives hate for and fans have called him homophobic for is because he said “Destiel doesn’t exist” at a convention. I do understand if you are a hardcore Cockles or Destiel shipper and what Jensen said grated your nerves. It is a common human emotion to be upset. What is NOT okay is to tag him on Twitter calling him all sorts of derogatory hateful slurs because your feelings got hurt over a fictional ship. I’d like to point out that Jensen being called homophobic has not happened recently, but when it did happen mass amounts of people dragged him. And yes I did call Destiel a fictional ship because it is not canon. That’s not a dig at the ship or anyone who participates in that part of the fandom either. That is literally just the truth. Destiel isn’t canon the same way Wincest isn’t.

When Jensen first dismissed Destiel questions at a J2 panel, within days the top Google search when typing Jensen Ackles name in the search bar was “Jensen Ackles is homophobic.” It stayed like that to for a long time. And it is crazy that people in this fandom do not realize how fucking damaging rumors like that can be to someones career let alone how that might make them feel if they were to see what was being said about them. 

Could Jensen have handled Destiel questions better? Absolutely. But the fact that fans started career damaging rumors about him out of spite of what he said is extremely harmful. 

The most recent thing Jensen has been dragged for is for liking a Blue Lives Matter post. Even I am a huge fan of Jensen and even I know that shit was wrong. But instead of attempting to educate him respectfully on his ignorance, he received slurs and name calling instead.  

Jared Padalecki: Recently Jared has been getting hate for calling out bad service on his social media in front of his several million followers. The first few times he did it, those could be semi excusable because everybody has their days where they’re off. I do believe fans had the right to say “man that isn’t cool, please delete this.” But instead of doing exactly that and trying to educate in a calm, cool and collected manner. The same way they should have done to Jensen when he liked that Blue Lives Matter post. Some of you do the exact opposite. You berate Jared with your words in attempt to make him feel lesser than. As if you fans not tagging him on Twitter means he won’t see the shit you say about him. It’s damn near common knowledge that most celebrities search themselves up online.

And the comments some of you say to Jared shake me to my core. When I see some of you telling Jared to kill himself, it literally hurts me which is a bit insane because these comments are not even directed at me. Fans wishing that Jared would die, makes me scared for his life. And I’m not trying to play that card of “ooooooohh poor weak Jared! He has depression! Everyone please be nice to him! Let him be, poor weak little soul! Awww!”

No, I realize Jared has made mistakes. But the way some of you go about correcting him is appalling. I am shaking as I write this because you are telling someone to die who has publicly said MULTIPLE TIMES he’s wanted to die and has been on the verge of almost killing himself, that he is basically a worthless piece of shit. Those types of comments literally make me want to cry which bothers me because I don’t consider myself a weak minded person. Not after all the obstacles I have personally went through. Jared, like Jensen, is a grown man that I’m sure can handle some criticism. But the criticism some of you show isn’t educational criticism at all it’s hate. And I have to say is that if Jared ever tried to hurt himself over something he’s read online that a supposed “fan” sent him, you will always be vile to me.

Jared’s most recent call out tweet, was that wrong? I have to say yes. And that is not hate, just truth. But clearly Jared learned his lesson seeing as he deleted the tweet within the first few minutes. 

Final Thoughts: It’s very sad to me that fans, and lets be honest here, mostly Destiel and Cockles shippers with Misha in their icons are the ones that continue to attack Jared and Jensen for things that happened years ago. Could you imagine everyone bringing up your past only to throw it in your face every five seconds? Most of you are lucky stuff like that does not happen to you like it does for celebrities in general every morning they wake up. Some celebs deserve criticism while others don’t.

What’s also fascinating is that a specific group of fans continue to drag Jared for calling out bad service or defame Jensen for several different matters like dismissing the ship that is Destiel. When only a few years ago Misha Collins was making racist and disgusting slavery jokes on Twitter.

It’s jokes like the one Misha made a few years back that literally give more examples and reasons as to why informative enlightening groups like Black Lives Matter exists. It is also jokes like that being the reason why I still get the “she must be angry” simply because I am a black woman who was having a bad day and didn’t feel like smiling at any creepy ass men. 

Stereotypes like the “black women are always angry” are so fucking hurtful and I can’t stand all the misogynistic and racist people out there. This fandom claims they’re so progressive but are the first ones to call a women or even some men of a certain age “old hags” or say things like “you’re too old to be in a fandom”.

As a woman of color I was extremely offended, hurt, and surprised when Misha made those borderline racist tweets. Did he apologize? Sort of. In the second screenshot above, that apology was half-assed. I still cannot for the life on me wonder why he seemed surprised that a slavery joke like that would not receive backlash just because he does a lot of great charity work. And that slavery joke that he made on Twitter is the number one reason why I can’t and will not support Misha and his endeavors. But despite the fact that I do not support Misha, you don’t see me slandering his name every five seconds either.

To be clear I don’t think Misha is a racist nor do I believe that people should loom this over his head for the rest of eternity. But I’m using this as example to show that like Misha, both Jensen and Jared have made mistakes. And to bring up their mistakes on a constant basis like Misha’s fans seem to do to Jared and Jensen whenever possible is out of decent respectful humane character.

There is one thing no one in this dysfunctional fandom can deny. And that is that all three of these men have some of the biggest hearts, when it comes to charity, in the sexist world that is Hollywood. And the fact that some fans can’t even let Jensen, Jared, or Misha do any charity work without them supposedly having some sort of hidden deceitful agenda behind their motives it is truly sickening. 

Now before anyone attacks me on bringing up old news, like the racist tweets on Misha, decides to say that I just contradicted myself. Or that I am trying to bring Jensen and Jared up while tearing Misha down. That isn’t even the case.The point I was trying to make was that I or anyone else really could say and do that EXACT same thing, in regards to bringing up old mistakes, the same way some of you do to Jensen and Jared whenever you get the chance or whenever they do or say something you don’t like. Jared, Jensen, and Misha are not your puppets. They don’t jump when you say jump and they will continue to make mistakes. Which isn’t all that surprising seeing as they are human beings with emotions like everyone else.

I realize many people will not take this post and message the way it was meant to be, which is honestly to stop being so petty and let people ship what they want to ship. And let them love their faves. No, I’m sure a good amount of people will see this post as something to start up drama. But it’s fine because I would not have made this post if I couldn’t handle people not agreeing with me.

This fandom always talks about how they support women, they don’t bully, and that they support the LGBTQ community. Now lets see if I get attacked and berated for expressing my opinion. 

I am going to put this post in the tags because I feel like it is extremely important. No matter your take away from my post and message I am trying to send. It is critical to realize that at the end of day, it is okay to respectfully call a celebrity out without any hidden shade and name calling. But it is not okay to tell Jared to kill himself, call Jensen homophobic or racist for liking that Blue Lives Matter post when you don’t know his stance on anything. It’s also not okay for people to tag Misha in their slander either.

It really is time for fans to start respecting Jared, Jensen, and Misha. This fandom is headed down the wrong path. And we really need to fix it before it’s too late.

[snarktheater]

Could you not say qu**r so often, please? Or at least tag it? Alternatives could be SGA or trans (depending on which part you're referring to) or LGBT? It's uncomfortable to quite a lot of people if it's used as an umbrella term too. Thank you

While I’m not interested in delving into that discourse on this blog…well, I guess it was gonna happen sooner or later. 

So just to be clear, before I say anything else, let me preface this post by saying that I’m going to state my position on this, but I will not admit any further discussion on the subject on this blog. You’re free to talk to me @talysalankil​ if you feel like having further discussion, but this blog isn’t the right place to do so. Also I’m going to use links from my personal blog because it’s just easier. But frankly if you want better sources on the subject, they’re out there.

Warning for massive wall of text. I tried to structure it, but there you go.

“Queer” has been reclaimed for decades. Many people who are much more knowledgeable than myself have pointed out that it’s been used at least as long as LGBT as an umbrella term (and that it was reclaimed before SGA was even invented), and it has the benefit of being inclusionary. The fact that is a historical slur cannot and should not be ignored, but the thing is, there is literally not a single word in use to refer to people who aren’t cis and straight that hasn’t been used as a slur at one point or another. Fuck’s sake, people still use “gay” today as a derogatory term, even when discussing things that have nothing to do with sexuality.

Meanwhile, SGA is an acronym that takes its root from conversion therapy (yes, really; SGA discoursers have claimed otherwise but survivors of conversion therapy attest to it), so I’m pretty sure it is equally trigger or even more triggering that queer to people.

SGL (same-gender loving) is a less historically charged acronym that I feel less strongly about for that reason, but it also comes from AAVE and I feel like there’s an element of cultural appropriation for me to use it as a white person, just like I wouldn’t use two-spirits because it’s a native american term. 

But that’s not my only issue with either acronym. See, the issue I have with SGA/SGL are multiple, and I’m going to put a cut here because this is getting out of hand:

It is an inherently binarist concept. Meaning, it either excludes nonbinary people entirely, since for many of them, the concept of “same gender” is compeltely irrelevant; or it partially erases nonbinary identities by grouping them together as “male-aligned” or “female-aligned”, i.e. implying they’re “basically a man” or “basically a woman”. Which, even if that is something some nonbinary people do identify with, is not something anyone should be entitled to force on people. Plus, you know, I guess people who aren’t on the male/female spectrum or agender people don’t exist at all and/or don’t belong in the community according to those people?

Bisexuality and polysexuality does not necessarily include “SGA”, even for cis male/female people. Implying that a bi person is straight if they experience attraction for the opposite binary gender and for nonbinary people is, once again, erasing those nonbinary people’s identities.

Because of these two points, the concept of SGA is inherently transphobic, since you cannot use it without assuming people’s gender.

This also adds a shade of exclusion of intersex people, whose status with regards to the community has always been complicated. Some intersex people don’t want to be included, some do. But “SGA and trans” doesn’t leave room for those who do, but don’t identify as trans (and those people exist), to join the community, even though they deserve a place.

Bisexual and polysexual people are constantly erased, and reducing their right to belong to the community as their attraction to their own gender is harmful rhetoric even for those who do experience that attraction (such as myself). It is the kind of thinking that leads to saying they’re “basically gay and using bisexual to ease into it” or that they’re “basically straight and just experimenting/lying” (the latter is particularly directed at women, especially if they are in a committed relationship with men, while the former is particularly directed at men, including myself). I am not “basically gay” and I don’t want to use an umbrella term for my community that reduces me to that in all but name.

More biphobia: it assumes that there’s such a thing as “straight passing privilege” and that anyone who’s not presently dating someone from their own gender is benefitting from that. That line of thought literally started off as biphobic rhetoric. Oh, and, you know, “straight passing privilege” is just being in the closet. Kind of like how TERFS say that trans women experience male privilege instead of being trans women in the closet. Apparently the closet only applies to you if you’re gay.

The unifying experience of the community is not homophobia. I mean, the fact that you have to use “SGA and/or trans” should be proof enough that you’re already adding trans people as an afterthought. But beyond that, biphobia is a different beast from homophobia, as is transphobia, as is aphobia. They stem from a similar form of societal bigotry, and there is intersection (a bi person dating someone of the same gender will probably experience similar issues as a gay couple, corrective rape which lesbians and ace people are both targeted by), but there are also differences of specificities (I already mentioned bi erasure; ace/aro people are targeted for being “mentally ill”; and I don’t think I have to explain the specificities of transphobia in a world where “bathroom bills” is a phrase that exists)

As others have pointed out, the phrasing makes it sound like the community started with “SGA people” and then was gracious enough to include trans people, which is historical revisionism.

The queer label offers grey areas for people who need time to figure out their own identity or just cannot place their identity on the existing, mainstream labels. SGA does the exact opposite of that by forcing people to place themselves on one side or another of a pretty ill-defined line.

Even if it weren’t for any of these points, the term has now been claimed as the rallying cry for exclusionary LGBT+ people, particularly to target ace and aro people. And by that I mean it started of as that, but let’s pretend it was already around and was claimed by those people.  Well, I will not stand for that, just like I’m not standing by TERF rhetorics. Interestingly enough, “queer is a slur” only emerged as discourse at the same time (and usually from the same people) who tried to enforce that exclusion.

LGBT+ aphobes have time and again shown that they were recycling biphobic and transphobic rhetorics (as I’ve shown myself earlier in this list), and in many cases, have proven to be the same people who used biphobic and transphobic rhetorics a few years ago, and that they haven’t given up on those views, merely grown more careful about where and how they advertise them.

If you want more I suggest you run a search for “SGA” on my main blog. It’ll be a lot of the same idea as what I just summarized here, just with more details.

So…yeah. If anything, I do not want to be included under the SGA umbrella, even though I am a bisexual man who so far has only ever dated other men. Well, one other man, but my dating history is kind of irrelevant anyway. Point is, I’m not using that umbrella. And I have every right to reclaim queer since…well, I just said I’m a bi man, which I’m pretty sure that should be enough.

I don’t have as many issues with LGBT, but at the same time, the acronym has also been pushed as “it’s LGBT and only LGBT therefore anyone who’s not lesbian, gay, bi or trans doesn’t belong” by the same people, enough that it feels sour in my mouth. I still use it liberally, although I try to use LGBT+ or other variations, such as LGBTQ, LGBTQIA, LGBTQIA+, LGBTQIAP+, etc, but ultimately, queer is just easier and has the benefit of being more inclusive than any of the above.

I understand that it’ll make some people uncomfortable, but until someone comes up with a word that makes no one uncomfortable (which, again, does not exist yet—the closest we got was MOGAI, but that one was targeted by a smear campaign from, you guessed it, exclusionists who didn’t like that it included ace/aro or trans people and now people can’t use it without starting a similar debate as this), I’m gonna have to settle for one, and I’ll pick the one that makes me the most comfortable, because I am a member of this community too and I have the right to do that. Just like you have the right to use SGA and it’ll make me uncomfortable, but I won’t come to your blog sending you an anon message asking you to stop, because I understand that no umbrella exists that satisfies everyone at the moment, and I have more pressing issues to deal with.

If that’s an issue, feel free to unfollow or whatever else it is you feel like doing. But I will not budge on this.

[tripstations]

Stop Asking Women Why They Are Traveling Alone

All Photos Courtesy Of Audrey Farnsworth

Yes, I am here by myself. No, I am not upset about this.

When I tell people that I travel by myself for work (I’m a travel editor, after all), I am met with mixed responses, from, “Oh, cool!” (the general and normal response to hearing about anyone’s job) to, “WHAT? YOU GO ALONE???” (usually from men! Not all men–but enough of them for it to be a noticeable trend).

There are a thousand million reasons a woman (or any person) might choose to travel alone. I, personally, travel by myself frequently for work. I’ve grown to love it, and over the past three years, I’ve become quite content with extended periods of alone time–it’s taught me to truly enjoy my own company and, most importantly, to trust myself in new situations and places.

As I went on more frequent solo trips (and posted updates to my personal Instagram account), I noticed a common occurrence: people–sorry, men, it was absolutely always men–asking me very leading questions about how it must feel to travel alone. And if it wasn’t a question, it was a direct statement as to how I must be feeling (i.e. “You must be so lonely being there by yourself!”).

This made me think about the politics of being alone. As far as being “uncoupled,” there is a lot of stigma in it for women. Historically, women have been looked down upon by society for being unpartnered. Derogatory terms such as “spinsters” and “old maids,” are reserved for unwed women of a certain age, while uncoupled older men, on the other hand, are referred to as “bachelors” or, say, “silver foxes.” The framing of these titular discrepancies, though not particularly nefarious, illuminates another lens of patriarchy—one where solitary women are to be pitied or scorned, while men are celebrated.

So, I have decided to go ahead and compile and answer a few of those leading questions about how it must feel to travel alone—the ones I have actually been asked, by various men–here.

When I am asked this question, I answer straight away that it’s not a vacation I’m taking—it’s work. I highly doubt that a man traveling solo (business or otherwise) would, A.) be asked whether or not he’s sad to be solo in a destination because it’s considered “romantic” or B.) be asked this question at all.

It seems inherently sexist that women are asked when traveling solo if she is upset about visiting a “romantic” location sans partner because the concept of romance, in general, is a thing people assume women to be obsessed with, or at the very least, predisposed by.

Sad and solitary are not the same thing, actually.

Secondly–what? Wait, so just because I’m alone in a place deemed “romantic” (which, sorry, can be literally anywhere—something is romantic if you are experiencing romance), you assume that I am… upset about being by myself? I am enjoying this beautiful place I don’t live in! Also, let’s talk some more about the term “romantic,” please. Just because something is considered “romantic” doesn’t mean a person shouldn’t experience it without a partner. Yes, Venice is very romantic and a perfect setting for couples. However, I don’t define myself by relationship status, and therefore do not define an entire city by it–no matter how much of a “perfect honeymoon locale” it may be to some. Romance is subjective, and only an adjective you can use to describe something when you’re in a certain state of mind. As I’m not in that state of mind on these trips, I’m not moping about Venice like, “Wow, this place is garbage because I’m uncoupled,” but rather I’m walking around with an open-mouthed, weird grin saying, “This place is pretty and I don’t live here!”

INSIDER TIPGoing on a gondola ride with a partner is equally as dumb/amazing as going on one by yourself.

For obvious reasons, to start: my friends, family, and potential +1s have jobs and they understandably can’t necessarily drop everything and pay a bunch of money to go with me to wherever my work is sending me or I am choosing to explore for a couple of days. Also, when I am traveling for work, I’m… well, I’m working! It’s very different than going on a vacation in that I need to be professional when I’m there and I can’t put a friend’s enjoyment as a top priority, so it’s generally easier to go it alone anyway.

Literally, a man asked me this on a first date. Yikes! To you, sir, I say: Well, first of all, stay away from me. That is quite the projection! And second of all: Sad and solitary are not the same thing, actually. During these “solitary” times, I am teaching myself how to get around in the world and do so without anybody’s help. During these “solitary” times, I am writing and creating. During these “solitary” times, I am thinking and being and learning and enjoying my surroundings, and also making myself laugh and having a REAL good time, because, actually, as it turns out, I am pretty damn fun, even when I’m by myself. Traveling alone helped teach me to enjoy spending time by myself, which was something that I didn’t always know how to do. So, no, it’s not sad. It’s actually pretty rewarding.

Oh, and in many cases, during these “solitary” times—and I cannot state this enough—I AM WORKING. People take business trips all the time. Why would it be sad? Why wouldn’t it be exciting or affirming of my own personal success or whatever?

How will I ever enjoy this all on my own?! How?!

My friends are at home, man, and I plan on hanging out with them when I get back into town. Good lord.

Again, this is not a question I could see someone asking a man, but this time, I (unfortunately) understand why: Women traveling by themselves are much more vulnerable than men in terms of safety, as there are countless horror stories from women (who did not even necessarily put themselves in “harms way”) being attacked while traveling. But traveling by myself has taught me many safety lessons and made me a much more cautious traveler. However, the answer to this question is: Yes! I do feel unsafe while traveling alone—not all the time, but periodically. Thing is, I also feel unsafe walking down the street in my own city periodically, as well, so this doesn’t just apply to travel, unfortunately. Feeling unsafe in certain places or at certain times is just part of being a woman.

At the end of the day, as my mother always told me, “We’re all in this together, by ourselves.”

Is it usually men that make me question my safety during these times? Nine times out of ten, yes—that’s been my experience. As it shouldn’t be our responsibility as women to have to go to extra measures to keep ourselves safe while traveling alone, we don’t have any other choice. Because we also shouldn’t have to forgo the ability to see the world.

Let me get one thing straight: People need to stop pairing being alone (and traveling alone) with loneliness. It’s very important for anyone to learn how to be alone–and, honestly, traveling alone teaches you a lot, and QUICK. At the end of the day, as my mother always told me, “We’re all in this together, by ourselves.” As important as it is to cultivate meaningful relationships and connections with other people, it is equally as important to nurture one with yourself. Traveling alone has had a big hand in my own journey of learning how to trust myself, and it’s shown me that I am capable of figuring out many a dire situation.

I’ve been lost in the middle of the night in foreign cities. I’ve missed flights and thought I was to be completely stranded somewhere. I have been in situations that Past-Me would’ve assumed I would be so stressed out that I would’ve just straight up fainted, but you know what? I didn’t. Perhaps, at first, I did it kicking and screaming (a.k.a. crying a lot) but over time I stopped kicking, screaming, AND crying, and learned to pull myself together and just get it done. This lesson is invaluable. This lesson stays with me for the rest of my life.

So, now, whenever I get a comment from a dude about how I must be sad while traveling alone, I always say the same thing: Hahaha. No, dude. I’m fine.

The post Stop Asking Women Why They Are Traveling Alone appeared first on Tripstations.

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Are you wondering about which important life lessons for boys that you should be teaching your son?  It isn’t always easy raising boys in today’s world. When my son was born 13 years ago I looked into his tiny face and wondered what sort of things he would accomplish in his life.  Would he be a famous scientist?  Maybe he would discover a cure for cancer or help bring about peace to nations at war.  There are so many possibilities when a baby is born that it is just a bit overwhelming to realize that YOU are in charge of the fate of this boy.

As his mother, I know that I play a big role in how he grows up and the development of his personality.  It is just a tad bit intimidating…I could really screw up an otherwise decent kid with a few stupid decisions!  As he has gotten older, I have come to realize that WHAT he accomplishes in life isn’t anywhere near as important as the type of person he becomes.  I would rather him be a garbage man with a well-developed sense of pride, independence, and individuality than have him become a lawyer with no moral compass to steer him in the right direction.

There are a number of life lessons for boys that we should teach our sons as they grow up. You want to ensure they become men who we will be proud to have raised.  I don’t want his future wife to wonder what in the world I was thinking when I was raising him!

I am putting these important lessons we should teach our sons down in print, as a reminder every day that this boy needs guidance if he is going to grow into a decent human being.  Of course, as a teenager, we are REALLY far from decent human being right now!  At the moment my son is in the grunting and acting slovenly stage.  I really hope this phase passes quickly! Until it does I will just keep hammering these lessons home and throwing up a prayer to God every once in a while that maybe he could give me a helping hand.  Here are my own ideas for lessons we should teach our sons.

I am putting these important lessons for boys down in print, as a reminder every day that this boy needs guidance if he is going to grow into a decent human being.  Of course, as a teenager, we are REALLY far from decent human being right now!  At the moment my son is in the grunting and acting slovenly stage.  I really hope this phase passes quickly! Until it does I will just keep hammering these lessons home and throwing up a prayer to God every once in a while that maybe he could give me a helping hand.  Here are my own ideas for lessons we should teach our sons.

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Life Lessons for Boys

Unless you want to starve, learn how to cook

Nothing will impress your future wife more than if you make her a home cooked meal that did not come out of a can.  Pick up a wooden spoon occasionally and use it for something other than scratching your back.  Give him a copy of Teens Cook: How to Cook What You Want to Eat and get into the kitchen with him for a bit of guidance. You don’t want vegetable chopping to turn into playing with knives.  Raising boys can be challenging some days! 

  Body odor is NOT manly

Bathe regularly.  And actually use soap!  Keep your nails trimmed and your armpits de-stinkified.  Deodorant is helpful but do not use cologne to take the place of a shower.  You will still smell like BO, I promise!  Make him a few homemade sneaker sachets for stinky shoes and teach him how to remove armpit odor from workout clothes.

Real women do not look like Victoria’s Secret models

Your future wife will most likely not look like the life-sized version of a Barbie doll.  Get over it…you don’t exactly look like Ken, either!  Teach him that beauty is more than skin-deep and that a woman who is ugly inside is not a person they should consider dating.

Life lessons for boys:  This is not an attractive look!

Pull your pants up

Wearing your jeans around your butt cheeks with your underwear hanging out is not an attractive fashion statement.  Invest in a few belts and put your pants up around your waist where they belong.  Life lessons for boys that teach them good fashion sense may just help them land a job when they get older.

Money doesn’t grow on trees

Just because you have a plastic card with a nearly endless supply of purchasing power doesn’t mean you have to use it.  Spend wisely and save for a rainy day.  If your girlfriend is more impressed with expensive, sparkly things than an act of kindness occasionally she isn’t worth having.  Learn how to balance a checkbook, invest in mutual funds, and create a budget.  If you choose not to do this, there are plenty of empty boxes on street corners that you may end up living in.

It takes more guts to say NO than it does to say YES

Your friends will no doubt attempt to get you to do stupid things.  You are boys.  Boys are notoriously stupid at times.  Use your best judgment before making a bad choice.  When in doubt, ask yourself “Would mom beat me if I did this?” If it doesn’t have the mom seal of approval you are probably better off saying no.  Remember, it is mom’s prerogative as to whether or not to bail you out of jail the next day.

You never, EVER ask a girl out for the first time OR break up with her via text or telephone

Be a man and stare her straight in the eyes when you have something important to say.  Teens today have lost the ability to interact with other human beings on a personal level.  They need to know how to communicate with their peers as well as adults.  Important conversations should never happen via text message.

Naked pictures of yourself are not cute

Unless you are an infant in a bathtub full of suds and a rubber ducky, you should not be appearing naked online.  Naked pictures of grown up you that are posted on Facebook, Twitter and texted to your friends will come back to haunt you. My kids are in high school now and I can tell you honestly that sexting IS a big problem and happens more often than you think.  Make sure that they know that their dream job may just be taken away because someone Googled your name and was horrified by your naked, dangly bits all over the Internet.

The only safe sex occurs with your hand

This is one of the most important life lessons for boys that I want my son to remember.  No matter how careful you are, every once in while accidental pregnancies happen. If YOU are the cause of that accident, you will be paying for that mistake for the rest of your life.  If you absolutely can’t keep it in your pants, glove up and use a condom.  EVERY SINGLE TIME.  They can save you from years of financial and emotional issues, as well as prevent some nasty diseases. Study after study has shown that abstinence-only programs don’t work as well as safe sex education in preventing teen pregnancies.

The term ‘gay’ should never be used in a derogatory manner

Gay is a state of being, not something to call a movie you didn’t like or a teacher who gave you an F on a final.  And if you happen to have a friend who comes out and tells you they are gay, I hope you are man enough to hold your head high and still call them a friend.

It is okay to cry

Not that you have to cry over the death of a caterpillar, the closing of your favorite bookstore, or your recent burnt dinner attempt (see number 1 above!) but sometimes, something will happen that truly hurts.  And it is okay to let that hurt out with a few tears.  And if someone calls you gay for that, reread number 9 and ask yourself if they are really somebody you want to be friends with.

  I’m sure I have left out a number of life lessons for boys that they need to know.   Please share if you have one!  If you are the mother of a daughter you might like my article on How to Raise Confident Girls.

If you are raising boys, what life lessons do you want them to know?

Looking for more parenting articles?  Try these!

Important Life Lessons for Kids to Ensure Long Term Success

  Tips for Raising Teenagers: Keeping the Lines of Communication Open