#it's more ok to have white features of your an alien?

[yawnderu]

I’m sorry for sending another request AKDHSJSHSJ u don’t have write this if u don’t want to

ok so it’s kinda similar to my last request but reader is the evil queen. Like the one from snow white. They ask their mirror who the fairest one of all is and instead of it being her, it’s Miguel. So she decides to journey to him and try to kill him but instead ends up fucking him

Snow White!Miguel O'Hara x Evil Queen!Reader

''Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?''

''Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But hold, a manservant I see. Rags cannot hide his gentle grace. Alas, he is more fair than thee.'' The mirror on the wall spoke, much to your horror. There had never been anyone who could compete with your beauty, yet you knew the magic mirror could not lie to you.

''Alas for him! Reveal his name.'' You demand, curious to know who exactly took your place. You'd have no issues paying them a visit.

''Eyes like darkened carmine resin, hair the brown of aged mahogany, skin like the mellow-brown light that bathed the forest.'' Was all the mirror replied, yet that was enough for you to know who exactly he was talking about.

''Miguel O'Hara.'' You spat out through clenched teeth, recognizing the features of the little rascal you haven't seen in over 20 years. His mother kept him hidden from the outside world, yet you'd never imagined that was to protect him from your wrath.

... Tough luck for the little bastard, as you now stand outside of a humble cottage disguised as a mere peasant, taking a deep breath before your knuckles make contact with the door. You hear a crash on the inside and a string of curses in Spanish before the door opens, a tall, tanned man opens the door with a small smile, sweat pooling on the middle of his thick eyebrows- it seemed he was in the middle of doing chores.

''Sí?'' He asked quietly, a small, nervous smile on his face as he looks down at you. He changed a lot ever since the last time you saw him- he's now much taller than you, dwarfing your frame with his behemoth 6'9 body, his features are way more defined and he carries himself with more confidence than when he was a scrawny kid.

''Oh, my. You've grown quite a lot, Miguel.'' You reply in your best fake tone, hiding the fact that you want to rip his heart out for having the audacity to take your place. He simply nods once, waiting for you to continue.

''I'm your mother's friend, she told me to wait for her inside.'' You don't even wait for him to reply before you walk past him, ignoring his confused stammering behind you. His mother never invites friends over, opting for completely alienating him from the outside world in fear he'd escape her controlling grasp. He was about to stop you, yet having company other than his family was nice enough for him to ignore all the red flags.

''Lo siento, I was cleaning before you-'' You dismiss him with a flick of the wrist, taking seat on a chair in the dining room before you motion for him to sit down next to you. As annoyed as you were, you were curious about him enough to ignore the urge to claw his heart out. For now. He nods his head, sitting down next to you, his red eyes looking curious as he waits for you to start the conversation.

''I've never seen you around, Miguel. Why is that?'' You ask curiously, tilting your head to the side as you wait for him to explain the lies his mother fed him for over 30 years.

''My mother says it's not safe outside, lots of hunters and wild animals.'' He replies politely, fully believing the lies carved into his brain from a young age, despite the small frown on his plump lips. ''Gabriel is allowed to go outside, though.'' His frown deepens as he thinks about how unfair the treatment is, yet his gaze focuses on you the moment your hand rests on his thigh. He raises an eyebrow, giving you a questioning look.

''Isn't that unfair?'' You ask with mock empathy, pretending to match his frown. ''You're so much bigger and braver than Gabriel is, yet Conchata doesn't let you go out... how odd and cruel.'' As if your plans for him aren't crueler. You resist the urge to smile as he nods his head in agreement, seemingly already used to your hand on his thigh. Hook, line, and fucking sinker.

''I could help you see the outside world, you know?'' You say gently, your hand starting to slowly run up and down his leg, yet he doesn't seem to protest yet.

''My mother wouldn't like that... I try my best to be respectful.'' He already spent his teenage years trying to escape and getting punished for it. He got it out of his system already.

''Ah, but you wouldn't like to see the huge castles? All the animals on the outside, tasting the best food the country has to offer...'' You trail off, your hand slowly cupping his groin. You hear him suck in a breath, his leg slowly starting to bounce, yet all he can do is nod his head in agreement with you. He'd love to see all those things, it's everything he ever wanted. Maybe he could even fall in love, like in those fairy tales he reads whenever he's not being burdened with chores.

''I'd love that.'' He said softly, his eyes closing when you started rubbing his groin softly, your fingers teasingly squeezing his hardening length as you continued to make conversation like nothing is happening. You just started touching him, yet his breathing was already growing heavier, his bulky chest rising up before falling as his head slightly tilted back.

''I could show you great pleasures, if you let me.'' This time, you're not talking about the outside world. Your hands fumble with the zipper of his pants once he nods his head, eyes still closed as he softly bites his plump lower lip.

There's no harm on playing with your prey, is what you tell yourself as you bring him in for a kiss, your hand gently rubbing up and down his thick shaft as he softly groans into your mouth, his inexperienced tongue wrapping around yours as you both battle for dominance. Of course, despite his best efforts, you win. He breaks away from the kiss, bending down until his forehead is leaning on your shoulder as you continue to jerk him off, fingers teasingly rubbing against the mushroom tip, pre-cum only serving as lube once you continue your movements.

''Good boy.'' You praise, and he can sense the arrogance in your tone, yet it feels too good for him to ask you to stop. He lets out deep moans and groans as you keep going, already feeling himself going to the edge before you suddenly stop. He looks up at you with an exasperated expression, though he doesn't protest once he sees you sit down on the table, gown folded on your stomach as you expose yourself to him. He doesn't need to think twice before getting on his knees, sloppily starting to lick your cunt with his inexperienced tongue. He's clumsy, yet his plump lips and big tongue feel too good for you to care.

''Keep going.'' You moan out and he obeys like a dog, eating your pussy out like a starved mad man who just found a home. His tongue seeks shelter inside your cunt, pushing itself in and out as he begins to rub his dick up and down, the same way he has been doing for so many years, thinking about this moment. He tries to go back to licking your cunt as you push him away, yet your glare is enough for him to stop, standing up when you instruct it.

''Put it in.'' You say bluntly, too impatient to wait for him to be inside you. It has been so long, and although you're still mad about him taking your place, you'll deal with him properly when the time comes. He nods his head, carefully lining up his dick to your hole, moaning when the sensitive skin makes contact with the mix of his saliva and your arousal. He starts to slowly go in, hissing as your tight cunt swallows him up, his forehead resting on your shoulder. You can feel the bared fangs against your neck, yet you know he's too good to do anything.

''Ay, Dios...'' He groaned once he bottomed out, his moaning mixing in with yours as he began to move, slowly building up a faster rhythm as his arms wrapped around your waist. He was now slamming into you, looking into your eyes a few times to bask in your expression, always making sure you're also feeling good. Your long nails scratched down his back, his low growls making you smirk.

''Just like that.'' You said between moans, already feeling yourself close to the edge as your hand came down to rub your hardened clit as Miguel went faster and deeper, fangs bared as he looked down at you. At this point, his behemoth frame was using your much smaller body as a fleshlight, too lost in experiencing pleasure for the first time to even bother being embarrassed.

''Voy a-'' He interrupted himself as he pulled out, jerking himself off while you were still too dazed from your orgasm, barely managing to feel the warm liquid landing on your wet, abused hole.

[thecapricunt1616]

Blue Lotus - SxC Fic - Chapter 2

♡ Summary: Carmy & Syd go horseback riding!!! Carmy's therapy friends push him to go for what he wants, his 'light at the end of the tunnel'

♡ W/C: 6,534

♡ Posted Date: 04/07/2024

♡ A/N: Hayoooo!!! I am too inspired... this has become a multi-chap fic hahaha I am havin' so much fun here!! Thank you @gingergofastboatsmojito for inspiring me to keep going!!! ILY! As per usual please know - this fic was inspired by THIS FIC here - Tucson by the GLORIOUS GINGER!!!! Go read that before you even THINK about reading this fic ok?! I love how I hate storer for the same reasons but im a sucker for writing a slowburn - I find myself screaming at MYSELF internally "make them kiss already!!!!" but they will KISSSS SHORTLY SO SHORTLY MY DEARSSSS !!! It will be a JUICY TAYLOR SWIFT DAYLIGHT ASS KISS OK!!!! THEY WILL ONLY SEE EACHOTHER FROM THEN ON!!!! Its gonna be a 'and I can still see it all in my mind all of you all of me intertwined I USED TO THINK LOVE WOULD BE BLACK AND WHITE BUT ITS GOLDENNNNNNN. We need Carmy to realize a few more things but then - he will be hozier level devoted to this woman even more then he already is, I hope you enjoy!!

♡ Warnings for BTC: Not really any? Like? LOL - Swearing?! Smoking cigarettes?! They just went horseback riding & carmy went to therapy- oh Ig talks of carmy getting hard LMAO but thats as crazy as we get this chapter. ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

Stardust nudges his shoulder so hard he almost falls over, and he turns to look at her. His heart jumped into his throat, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. She was there, she was really there. 

“Uh-” he blinked a few times, to be sure that she wouldn’t disappear. “Syd? Hey..uh-” he felt his entire body buzzing with excitement. He couldn’t help the smile that took over his features. She looked… gorgeous. Carmen wasn’t sure there actually was a word in any human language ever to exist that could describe just how wonderful she looked. 

Her hair was in its natural state, she was wearing an adorable corduroy jacket, black jeans, and white sneakers. “You came to a farm…in those?” he motions to her shoes. 

She laughs a bit “Wow- it’s great to see you too, Carm. Didn’t realize you were…actually like living on a farm” she approached him carefully. 

“Shit- yes- fuck- It’s its so good to see you, Syd, C’mere” he pulls her into a tight, long hug. The smell of her lavender vanilla perfume nearly made him melt. 

“You’re like…tan- and…muscley now” She laughs a bit, squeezing his arm lightly. 

“Uh..” he pulled away, cheeks bright red. “Yeah uh.. It's like- fuckin hard t’ride a horse. And the um…” he rubbed his neck nervously “The uh cows.. They eat hay? Most the time, and so we need to move the bales during the morning for em, they’re like…. 75? 80 pounds? So moving like 10 back and forth every day helps. And I dont really.. Go inside? Here? Its like… uh.. Thats the therapy mostly, the animals- at least f’me” he said sheepishly. 

She nodded, looking around the stable. “That one behind you is yours? Shes been side-eying me creepily since I started talking” she pointed to Stardust. 

“Oh! Fuck sorry yea, well- no…not- not mine- I got ‘er t’trust me. But uh, yeah this is Stardust. She’s a super sweet girl” He explained. Stardust leaned in, sniffing Syds hair carefully. 

“Cute- All you’re missing is a hat” She teased.

He chuckled a bit,  “Ok, c’mon - why are you here, Syd” He said with a small smile, crossing his arms over his chest.

She shrugged, looking at the ground and kicking a rock out of the way with her shoe. “Cause…I was worried- I dunno…” She definitely wasn't going to get bold and tell him that she’d missed him, terribly.

“Ok…well now that y’here, and y’see i’m okay…wanna have some fun?” He asked, a small smile on his lips.

Syd looked back up at him, as if he had 3 heads. “Okay- Where is Carmen Berzatto- Not his… Weird alien clone- Camren Brazota” she said, laughing a bit “what do you mean fun?” She asked, and Carmy laughed, real, and genuine. 

“Well- If I didn’t change my view a little I’d never leave. So, yes, Syd, ‘a little fun never hurt noone’ - per my therapist. Shes fuckin annoying. I much prefer the horses.” He pet Star’s mane and she leaned into his touch.

“Holy shit” Syd laughed a bit. “Wow- alright. I feel like you’re a whole new man already, what kind of fun?” she mused. 

“Ever ridden a horse?” he walked over to the saddle rack, pulling off a double seated one and hanging it over the back of the stall door. 

“No- Actually, Don’t I need um…like - stuff for it?” she asked. 

“Oh don’t think I wont give you the full experience” he opened the riding closet, “Whats your shoe size?” he asked, crouching down and looking through the pairs of extras. 

“8? Er- 9 probably 9” she said. He dug through them until he found a matching pair.

“These should do, y’stuff is cool here we can just leave it in her stall” he told her, holding out his arm for her to hold while she switched her shoes.

“You seem like…” she said as she slipped off her sneaker and put on the boot. “I dunno…chill- well- i wont go that far- but chill-er then before.” Carm snorted a laugh, holding on to her arm to steady her. 

“Thanks? I guess..that’s good right?” He asked. 

“Yeah! Yeah of course…I mean, it’s nice. To see you not so…anxious.” She said, slipping the other boot on. 

“Yeah I um…” he cleared his throat, opening the stall door. “I uh..I’m takin meds- Now? Uh..all this shit. Y’know they have me like tranquilized more then these guys” he said and she laughs, Carmen smiled proudly at the fact, relishing in the wonderful sound. 

“But yeah like Like 3 er..er 4. they say I had all this uh..mental shit. Goin’ on w’me and that’s why I was all…wound up I guess” he explained, calling Star out and getting her harness situated. 

Syd caught herself staring at his arms as he worked, how the toned muscle moved beneath the fabric of the shirt. 

“Aren’t you freezing?” She asked, noticing he wasn’t wearing a jacket like she was. 

“Used to it now, well- I mean the moving around. It gets hot this shit is heavy. Wanna try to hold the saddle?” He asked, unhooking the saddle from the stall door where he’d left it momentarily. 

“It can’t be that bad” she countered. 

“I think this thing weighs probably as much as you do.” He said “hold out your arms” he smiled a bit. 

She lifted her arms out in front of her and he plops the saddle down, she had to plant one of her feet forward so she didn’t fall face first due to the sudden weight and he laughed, catching the saddle quickly and baring most the weight. 

“Told you” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes “yeah whatever. Saddle up the horse, cowboy” she dropped the saddle back in his arms. He hurled the saddle over Stars back with a grunt. 

“Fuckin hell” he huffed, realizing since the saddle was nearly double the weight as his usual, and being on the shorter end- he couldn’t just get it on her when she was standing straight. “Bow” he told the horse and she just stared at Sydney. 

“Don’t embarrass me, Star. Bow” he told her and she looked the other way. 

“So uhhh…this one’s trained, huh?” Sydney teased. 

Carmen looked back at her “mmhmm maybe she doesn’t like strangers” he said, walking over to the other side. 

“Since she’s bein difficult y’gonna have T’help. C’mere” he waved her over and she followed. “So when I push it up, just grab the saddle pad and make sure it doesn’t move, yea?” He asked. 

“The fuck is a saddle pad, dude- I know my way around a kitchen not a fuckin horse stable.” She looked at the many different layers the horse was already wearing. 

“Alright. So this,” he lifted the cloth, “is her blanket. Keeps her core warm. And beneath it” he pats the pad “this is her saddle pad, it makes it more comfortable. So our bones aren’t like..diggin in her back and shit. Also shock, when she jumps the foam of it helps our weight disperse. The saddle is so big and heavy I can’t keep the pad still at the same time, so just hold it f’me,” he took her hand, guiding it to where he wanted her to hold. 

She felt her heartbeat quicken, his hands were so large and calloused on top of her own. She nodded wordlessly, keeping her eyes trained on where she was meant to be holding and focusing on keeping it steady as he went back around and carefully lifted up the heavy saddle with a grunt, laying it over the horses back. 

“Jesus- how much can this thing carry” Syd asked. 

“Well she is a mare, she weighs about…mmm- 1900? She can comfortably hold about 400 pounds for a decent distance but she can’t do that for hours and hours at a time. We together can’t be more then 300, and her gear is less then 100 pounds. Were just goin f’r a quick ride, I gotta get to therapy at 3” he explained as he buckled on her saddle. 

“Ah. So you’ve been memorizing horse information instead of creating recipes? I figured when I got here you’d have gone nuts by now without being in a kitchen so long” she gently touched the horses mane as she spoke. 

“Maybe. Well…I am kinda goin crazy? But I can’t…let it out?” He chuckled a bit “does that make sense? Nights are a little hard before my sleep meds kick in but that just says I haven’t done enough that day” he got up. “So y’gettin up first since I’m sittin in back” he explained. 

“Oh…uh- ok how do I?” She asked looking up at the at least 7 foot tall animal. 

“Y’not gonna be able to do it alone. C’mere” he told her. She comes over and looks at him. 

“How the fuck do you do this?” She looked up at the saddle that was at the top of her head before looking back at him. 

“So-“ he snorts a laugh at her wide confused expression. “She’s not gonna like you trying to roll up on her back, and I don’t want you t’get thrown off, she can be moody with new people. I almost broke my shoulder my first time trying to ride her” he said and she crossed her arms slightly. 

“So how. How do I get up there?” She asked. He pulled out a step stool, setting it next to the horse and getting up on the third step. 

“I’m giving you a lift. Arms up” he said with a playful smirk. 

“No- no way- Carmen that’s too high. You’ll drop me!!” She took a step back, feeling slightly nervous. 

“I won’t because I’ll bribe her Syd. C’mere” he pulled a pack of peep marshmallows out of his pocket and the horse nearly starts dancing. 

“Carm- what the fuck is happening?” She asked and Carmy chuckled. 

“Bow. Cmon Syd wants t’ride. Bow and you’ll get y’treat star.” He told the horse. 

It obediently bowed down and before Syd could process what was happening, Carm was scooping her up beneath her arms Syd squealed in surprise. “Oh my GOD WHY ARE YOU PICKING ME UP!” She shrieked, wiggling in his arms. 

“open y’legs! Cmon! she’s gonna get up!!!” Carmen laughed holding her up higher. Syd finally obeyed and he gently plopped her on the first saddle. “Good girl” he told the horse, feeding her the marshmallow and putting the packet in his pocket again before swiftly getting on behind Syd. 

“Alright. Hard part done.” He reached around her waist, and she lifted her arms slightly. 

“What- can you tell me what’s going on? I’m a horse virgin!” She said, and they both went quiet for a moment, before cracking up laughing. Syd leaned to her left slightly as she tried catching her breath, grabbing the rein for stability and tugging. 

Star took off sprinting, Syd screamed in surprise, her body going tight with fear. Carmen quickly wrapped his arms around Syds waist protectively, tugging on the reigns “WOOOOAH!” He called to Star and she quickly came to a stop. 

“Stand.” He told the horse firmly. 

“What the fuck Carm I thought she was trained!” Syd exclaimed, gripping onto his forearms for dear life. 

“I gotchu, you think I’d let her kick you off?” He tightened his arms around her. Carmen swore his heart was thumping so hard that she felt it on her shoulder blade. 

“Also when she moves it’s hard to keep still.” She said nervously. 

“Don’t worry, I gotchu, Syd. Lean into me, if our weight is centered then it’ll be easier for all 3 of us” he gently pushed at her stomach. 

She leaned back into his broad chest, “see” he said softly. He was lucky the angle didn’t allow for her to see him, because his face was bright red, And having her body pressed against his…was making him flush somewhere else too. 

He clicked his tongue and Stardust started walking again, at an easy comfortable trot. “This…is ok.” She said, much more comfortable now. 

“I’m gonna take you t’one of my favorite spots.” He said, pulling on the reins to the left lightly so she would follow the left trail. 

“Wow, already sharing secret spots huh? I think this therapist may just be Doctor of the year I don’t even think I’ve seen your favorite Chicago spots” she teased. 

Carm laughed a bit, he felt so much lighter with Syd around. And life had been lighter ever since he got here. 

“How is…uh- how is it back home?” He cleared his throat lightly. It was something that had being weighing on him. Yes, he was here, he was doing the thing. He was making Sugar happy. He was making Syd happy…but he would go back, at some point. 

And his biggest fear was things will just go right back. He won’t have this outlet, he won’t have sunset rides with Stardust to ease his mind. He won’t have the cows happily running up to him and greeting him when he was the first one to bring out a bale of hay. He felt like if he was here, he may have the confidence to tell Syd how he feels. But back home? It was another life. 

“Fine..things are..y’know. The usual shit. But nothing bad, no one’s getting locked in any freezers if that’s what you mean” she said playfully. 

Carm rolled his eyes with a light smile. “Mmhmm. So the restaurant is-“ 

“Is fine.” She said. “I’d have told you. You know that.” She said and he nodded a bit. 

“I know she scared you back there…but it’s pretty fun to go fast. You wanna try?” He asked. 

She shifted a bit uncomfortably, her hands tightening around his arms that were holding the reins around her waist. “Uhh…maybe? Are you sure we won’t fall off?” She questioned. 

“I’m sure. Here you can be the one to control it. Start light ok? With your legs.” He gently ran his hands down her thighs to right below her knees “here” he said softly, squeezing the flesh gently so she wouldn’t have to lean and look. “With that part of your legs, give her a little squeeze. But really light, or we’ll take out of here like a bat out of hell” he held around her waist again, securely holding the reins. 

“Mmhmm” she said, she was beginning to feel hot- and not because she’d done any hard work in regards to getting the horse ready. 

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready, you’re the boss” he said the last part softly in her ear. If it wasn’t for her jacket, he would see the goosebumps that had risen on her arms. She nodded quickly, staring straight ahead and trying to maintain her composure. 

“So I just?” She squeezed gently and the horse picks up her speed slightly. “Oh…ok” she said. 

“Told y’she was trained” Carmy teased and she rolls her eyes. 

“Mmm you’ve done a very good job, bribing this horse with peeps. The staff know you do this?” She asked. Carmy snorted a laugh

“No. But she’s healthy. Made sure. She only gets one or 2 if she doesn’t listen.” He admitted. 

She shook her head with a smile. “And how’d you find this out, Carm?” She leaned into him once more. 

“I…” he laughed a bit, his chest vibrating with the movement and it made her heart warm. 

“I uh…spent a few days in the library here. Reading up. After she threw me off. It’s all about trust with em. So I never lied to ‘er and I’ve never done something she didn’t expect because I always try to warn her.” He said, pulling her reigns a bit tighter. 

“This is like a joyride Syd cmon, I said fast not an evening stroll.” He teased. 

“Fine. Mister horse master- show me what Miss Stardust can do.” She said. 

With 2 kisses and a quick tap of his heel, they were off like a rocket. He held Syd steady, being sure she wouldn’t have to do most the work of holding herself center as he gripped each reign with the opposite hand, holding them taught so Star knew to keep going. 

Syd laughed, the wind flicking her dark curls all around. He wished she could see her amused expression. “Holy shit this is the best!” She shouted over the loud thuds of Stars hoofbeats. 

“I know right! Can you believe she can go faster?” He said, holding his knees taut around her hips to keep her from sliding. 

“Okay we are not! This is fine!” She said and sat up a bit “are we going into the-” She asks as Star begins to barrel through a creek, the freezing water spraying up and around them getting them slightly wet, the freezing water splashing from their calves up to their cheeks.. “CARMY!” She screams through laughter. 

He could barely catch his breath as he laughed so hard his stomach and ribs ached. “I’m sorry!! Syd! Oh god-“ he chuckled “woah girl- woah” he called to the course and she slowed down once again to a stop. 

“Fuck-“ Carmen chuckled “you okay?” He asked, picking a wet leaf from her jacket and throwing it to the forest floor. 

“Yeah- I’m.. I’m fine. That was really fun actually. C’mon I wanna see the spot” she said and took it upon herself to tug the reins so Star would take off again

“Shi-it!” He quickly finds his balance, “warn me!! Oh god I almost flew off!!” He told her. 

“You think I’d let her throw you off?” She mimics him from earlier and he takes the chance to playfully pinch her waist 

“Yes because who’s in back and who’s in front?” He wrapped his arms around her again, taking the reins from her grasp. “Your reign privileges have been revoked for this riding lesson, Ms.Adamu”  

She laughed a bit “I’ll earn them back. Don’t worry” she mused. 

“Mmm we need to talk about more shit before I just literally hand the reins over. Coulda spooked her and we’d be fuckin dead.” he angled the outside reigns so she’d slow down as they came to the clearing. 

“Here we are” he hopped off, raising his arms to help her down. 

She carefully reached out for him and he lifted her off, gently setting her down. “Holy fuck Carmy” she turned around, watching the waterfall cascade down over the rocks. 

“Right! Told you. It’s a fire spot” he went over to one of the rocks he usually sat at, plopping down and taking out a cigarette. “Oh- shit- can’t have y’running off” he told Stardust and chuckled, leaving the cigarette between his lips as he walked over to her, guiding her over to the tree, and hooking her right rein around a branch before sitting back down. 

“Yeah…I can’t remember the last time I went somewhere so…” she trailed off, looking at all the trees and running water. 

“Green?” Carmy lit his cigarette, taking a drag. “Not packed with smog? Somewhere that doesn’t smell like shit.” He said as he exhaled. 

“…yeah” she said and laughed a bit. “Yeah. Guess that’s it.” She came and sat next to him. “What did you mean about her getting scared?” She asked curiously. 

“Oh- a scared horse will fucking kill you. Not on purpose, but they’re big and pure muscle, and will do anything to get away from danger. I scared the shit out of her one time, that was it. Dislocated my shoulder 8th day here. Doing that hurts like a bitch by the way.” He rolled his shoulder gently. 

“How’d you manage that? God I knew you were shit at chatting up girls but she dislocated your shoulder?” She teased. 

He rolled his eyes with a playful smile, taking another drag. “Yes, I was fuckin around on the trail, dunno why- but there was this branch sticking out so I grabbed it, it snapped, she fuckin reeeared dude. I flew back so hard. My back might still be bruised I’m not sure. Still hurts a little to laugh” he said. 

“You better have seen a doctor” she said. 

“Ohhh silly Syd.” He sighed, a puff of smoke filling the air in front of him. “We aren’t allowed to refuse treatment here. If you get hurt, and you refuse to get help, it’s considered self harm, which leads to them believing you have suicidal ideation, which leads to you being locked in the actual nuthouse. So yes. I willingly went to the doctor daily for a week. And now, I’m being checked on once a week. So yeah. Oh and therapy daily. And every day I’m given my meds and someone checks over ‘pre-existing injuries’ which that is now considered. So yeah. I’m good. I’m fuckin fine as fine can be.” He said. 

“Awww poor little chef, being taken care of so well that’s so hard isn’t it?” She teased and he gives her a playful glare, but couldn’t help but crack a smile when he realized she was smiling too. 

“I was being taken care of fine at home by myself but you and my sister just had to ship me off after one tiny accident” he leaned back on his hand, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

“It stops becoming an accident when you didn’t care, Carm. You didn’t care. It didn’t phase you. You weren’t even…you weren’t even scared. Just because you didn’t do it on purpose doesn’t mean you did the sane thing which would have been doing everything you could to not let something like that happen.” She said, her tone suddenly serious. 

He looked down at his lap, swallowing thickly. He suddenly felt all of the armor he’d spent the last 31 days chipping at, slowly start to meld back together and shell him back in at the shame the whole situation was making him feel. 

“I have nightmares…you know. About it. What happened” she said quietly, and he could physically feel his heart ripping open. 

The only sound between them was the bubbling stream, and the sounds of their even breaths. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, gaze fixed on his lap knowing he would burst into tears at the admission she’d been so deeply plagued by something he’d done, if he had looked at her.

“I know” was all she said, gently resting her hand on top of his. He felt the same fireworks exploding in his chest that he only ever felt when she was around. 

“Do you um…” he clears his throat and shook his head, embarrassed by the question plaguing his mind. “Never mind it’s..it’s stupid.” He removed his hand, putting his cigarette in it and resting the hand opposite of her on the rock. 

“That usually means it’s not stupid. What?” She coaxed, bumping his knee with hers gently. 

“It’s stupid” he said again, shrugging his shoulders. 

“It can’t be stupider then asking me what UPS means” She said playfully. He rolled his eyes, smiling and looking over at her. 

“And what if it is?” He questioned. 

“I would be..worried they’re giving you a bad concoction of meds that’s turning your glorious chef brain in to Swiss cheese” she teased 

He snorts a laugh. “I was gonna ask..if you wanted to cook..t’night. My cabin…it uh- has a kitchen? I haven’t cooked in a month. They give us food so I haven’t really bothered but…seeing you makes me miss it more, I guess” he blushed, looking back down at his lap. 

“Well obviously. Not gonna let you eat whatever bullshit they’ve been giving you while I’m around.” She said and he shook his head, meeting her gaze once more with a playful smirk. 

“Maybe you should check in. My therapist says it’s bad apparently to feel ‘responsible for others’ - says it’s a ‘subconscious self harming behavior’ “ he teased. 

She smiled a bit. “Okay- say I do. How about, I check in now, we shoot the shit for what- eleven more days- then, you go back home- and see how stressful it is in that restaurant when one of your hands is basically missing” she plucked the cigarette bud he’d forgotten about from between his fingers before it burnt him, flicking it into the creek. 

“You know that’s the first time I’ve seen you smoke- other then…me like checking on you when you were about to explode at work. But you’ve never…pulled one out and smoked it I guess” she said, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her cheek on her forearm as she looked at him. 

“Oh…” he said, pulling one of his legs up and resting his arm on it. “Didn’t realize you noticed” he said, brushing some dirt off his jeans. 

“I notice a lot of stupid shit about you, it’s kinda annoying honestly.” She said without thinking, her eyes widening when she realized and she looked the other way, resting her other cheek on her knee and squeezing her eyes shut. 

Why would you ever say that?! She asked herself internally. 

“Oh?” He said again, smiling a bit. “You do?” He questions, but that was as far as he’d push. 

“Mhm” was all she responded. Carmys phone started buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out in case it was one of the ‘base keepers’ they called them. Carmy rather call them babysitters. He knew what they were for, being sure if they were out of sight too long they were making sure they could still get ahold of them. 

He sighed in relief when he saw it was just his 2:40 alarm. “Gotta go” he stood up, offering his hand to Syd. “Like- now. Or my ass is getting chewed out.” 

The ride back to the cabins was mostly silent. He had no stool this time, so he had to pick up Syd essentially by the ass and gently place her on Stars back so she didn’t get spooked. 

He was embarassed as fuck that the tiny action had the crotch region of his jeans tightening more then was casually explainable. Thank god no one was around to see him awkwardly hop in the way of his semi hard third leg down his left pant leg, grunting but covering it with a dry cough when she settled her ass back into him to ‘center their gravity’ 

Syd absolutely felt the firmness pressing into her ass. She thought it was a bit funny, but also brushed it off to the strange friction that came with riding a horse. She couldn’t allow herself to fully believe his teenage like excitement was due to her, or she’d go insane. 

Carmy dropped Syd off at his cabin, giving her the key and telling her he’d put up Stardust and be back by 5, she would be blushing if it weren’t for her mahogany complexion at the domesticity of it all - er what she could imagine domesticity with Carmy would feel like. 

Her panties were also soaked through from the feeling of his enormous length pressed into the curve of her ass - the entire way back - but she just chalked that up to not getting laid for a few months, and misreading his natural arousal for him being horny- she quickly pushed the thought down and just chalked it up to the horse. Because guys get hard when they ride horses…right? Right?!

Carmen arrived to therapy extremely frustrated, and extremely ready to talk. He sat down in his regular spot in the back, tapping his knee nervously and covering his crotch with his hands. Luckily, thinking about his mother was enough to make him soft nearly instantly so he had that to thank her for at least. 

“Alright guys!” Julienne, the usual Friday therapist came in, sitting in her spot in the circle. “Who is up today! We are-“ she looks at her iPad “oh! Yes this is another OP class, so- no pressure but, I wanna hear what’s goin on!” She crossed her legs. 

Julie was far from his favorite therapist, at Blue Lotus. But he wasn’t his least favorite. So he would still talk. He cleared his throat, raising his hand slightly. 

“Carmy?! What a treat! Okay what’s up” she grabbed her little stylus pencil. He bit the inside of his lip nervously. He despised how casual she tried to make this all feel. 

“Uh…so- my um…business partner, she came to see me. I guess I haven’t been…keeping touch? Enough? She just said she was worried…” he cleared his throat again, gaze fixed on his lap. “And uh…I’m startin’ t’-t’realize stuff?” He sniffled nervously, rubbing his mouth with slightly clammy, nervous hands. 

“She uh..” he chuckled a bit. “She…she just…showed up. Didn’t hear shit from ‘er. She probably knew that I’d uh…I’d tell ‘er no?” He finally meets the gaze of Julie. 

“Okay. You know guests are allowed right? Like- during the visiting hours, 6am to 11pm, no fraternizing between patients but-“ Carmen cuts her off

“We aren’t - no. Not fraternizing” He shook his head. “But uh…today? We were- we were sitting. This spot, near uh, Jupiter point? On the north side. And I had this- this urge T-to tell her…everything.” He shook his head, looking at the floor again. 

“So…you wanted to tell her you love her?” Jesse, one of the guys he’d had lunch with a few times piped up. 

“T’be honest, I don’t know.” Carmen said honestly, looking at him. 

“Well what does it feel like?” Jesse asked, sitting up a bit. 

“What? Like- what does what feel like?” Carmen asked curiously. 

“Her. Being with her. Talking to her? Inside. Like. Your chest. Your skin?” He questioned. 

“Uh…” Carmen sat back, swallowing thickly and crossing his arms over his chest. He thought for a moment. 

“Hot. I get hot. All over. My chest feels tight but - but good? Like- a hug almost. And then…when she…” he blushed, looking down with a shy smile. “When she touches me” he shook his head slightly. “When she touches me it’s like um.. fireworks? Like fireworks beneath my skin.” He chuckled a bit at how cheesy it sounded. 

“And you haven’t fucking nailed her?” Jessie asked plainly. 

Carmen furrowed his brows, glaring at him. “No” he clenched his jaw “I haven’t.” He snips. 

“Dude- you are- pussy whipped with no pussy?! You- you love her, Carmen. You love this chick. I feel like I’m looking in a weird straight mirror - the first time-“ he laughed a bit “the first time I kissed a guy- god. He was so hot. But I had no idea! I had no idea. I really thought that I was just-“ he shook his head “that I was just wanting to befriend him? Or something? But like- I wanted to fuck him. And when I did kiss him? Something unlocked in my brain dude. It was like…like a whole new world. I felt like I knew - I knew what love could feel like? Just ‘cause of that one kiss “ he shrugged. 

Carmen looked at him, arms crossed, trying to absorb everything he was saying even though every fiber of his former self was screaming to take it with nothing more than a grain of salt. 

“Kiss her dude. Kiss her.” Jesse said and sat back in his chair. 

“Well. Although, consensual sexual instances are against the code of conduct to discuss - I am very proud to see you two coming out of your shells. Has anyone else felt… confused in their romantic endeavors and would like to share?” Julie asked. 

Carmen crossed his arms tighter, looking down at his lap. This was quite unusual for him, he was one of the patients to only add what he had to to be credited during inpatient, and during outpatient - only spoke when he really and honestly had to. 

“Uh-“ the super tall girl, Shayna sits up. Carmen was never really sure why she was here. She looked…perfect by all means. Perfect skin, perfect nails, pretty face, long blonde hair, a perfect body by girl standards. Or at least what Carmen had understood of them.

 “Not really the same.. but before I came out? I like…I would uh buy…girl clothes. That I liked. For my girlfriends at the time…” she blushed “and um.. I realized after a while that I liked them. And I wasn’t just..wanting to see my girlfriend in them. And like- it’s not the exact same, but when he said… about how Jesse realized he wanted the guy. That’s how I felt when I finally tried the clothes on” she shrugged. 

Carmen was…aghast. He just simply stared at her. He’d never met- or thought-  he’d ever met a trans person before today. But…Shayna? 

Well- he was wrong because he had met her, they actually knew each other fairly well as far as patients go, she joined the program when he did. When they first met, she’d made a joke about how they were the tallest girl and shortest guy in the class, so that meant they were bound to be friends, since opposites attract - and that earned a chuckle out of him before his meds had even fully evened out. 

“I love the cis-and-confused look- it’s cute” she said and laughed a bit. Carmen blushed, smiling a bit. 

“Not confused- well, maybe. Maybe a little. Y’Just so…dainty? I dunno..” he shrugged. 

“In case you haven’t noticed- mr.little man syndrome- you’re only one out with the cows doing the hay on time in the morning. Ninty percent of the group is your version of dainty ” Jesse teased. 

“Jesse” Julie gives him the look. “I’d assume that means- the rest of you that aren’t out helping with the bales- are scraping out the cow pens? Since Carmen is doing all the hard work according to you.” 

“I’m not girl- fuck no! The second I got out of inpatient house arrest? I walked my happy ass down to Walmart and bought me some blackout curtains. I recommend those to all of you! Oh my god and some ear plugs!! The stupid fucking roosters! Worst 15 days of my lifeee! I’m never coming back here peace and love to you all though. Truly. Can’t stand this cow shit stank ass place.”  Shayna said dramatically, causing Carmen to chuckle a bit.

 He had loved her boldness since they’d met. If Shayna didn’t want to do something- she wasn’t doing it. He learned that the day the staff tried to force her on anti-depressants. One of the main therapists got a Wellbutrin straight to the eye, they never attempted that battle the same way again. 

“We know Shayna you aren’t shoveling scat, princesses don’t do that” Jesse mocked her valley girl tone. 

“Okay! Okay. Alriiiight! Back on track- done with the bickering!” Julie said. “Now that open call is over let’s move on to breakthroughs. This issss-“ she looks at her iPad “ah- yes! D group. So. That makes it-“ he checks her watch “ah- right. 11 days! How are your light tunnel projects going?” She questioned. 

Carmen’s chest tightened, but not in the Syd is smiling or he made Syd laugh way- in the - I haven't done something I was meant to do way. 

The Light Tunnel project wasn’t hard. It was simply one thing you have done that you had wanted to do when you came into the program. And Carmy knew what his answer was, 

Admit how he felt to Sydney. 

Or, as his Therapist- Mandy told him ‘become more truthful with yourself and those you know about how you feel’ because “counting on someone to like him back would put him at square one” he had pretended to understand, but knew that he had to tell her and soon - or he was going to really go insane. 

“ my light tunnel was to talk to my asshole father- but lucky for me I just caught wind the motherfucker finally died thank god. So by default I win and don’t have to be here anymore cause his abandonment was what fucked me up anyhow“ Shayna said jokingly, causing Carm to snort a laugh. He knew she was only joking about the leaving early part, not the father part. Her father was an even bigger piece of shit then Carmen’s was, he had come to learn.

“Mmm that isn’t how it works we know that Shayna. We’ll talk more about this in one to one “ Julie told her and Shayna crossed her long legs, looking out the window. 

The last 20 minutes of the session Carmen sat silently, looking out the opposite window to Shayna, watching the horses running around in the field before they got called in for dinner and just spacing out, thinking about what he may say to Syd. 

“Yo - Carm space cadet” Shayna said before kicking his boot he jumped a bit, looking up at them both and had realized the room since had cleared and Julie was preparing for her next session. 

“Shit.” He said “how long have I been like…like that?” He asked, his cheeks feeling hot. 

“It’s the OCD meds. They get you stuck in a happy thought loop sometimes. Are you just gonna sit here? You wanna do another hour of this with sniveling group a? They got here three days ago.” Jesse said. Carm shook his head, getting up. 

“No- no sorry” he said starting with them outside. Shayna laughed a bit 

“You were thinking of screwing that business partner aren’t you. “ she said, causing Carmys cheeks to go pinker. 

“Shayna shut up!” Jesse scolded, pushing her shoulder lightly. 

“Awwww carmyyy are your feelings hurt little buddy? Do you need a hug? Jesus men are such pussys” she pushed open the doors of the therapy cabin for them. 

“Let me see pictures of this hot chick. If you don’t fuck her I will and I bet I’d do a better job” Shayna teased as they started heading back towards the cabins. 

Carmen couldn’t even process what she said as he felt his breath get caught in his chest, he saw her. She was sitting on the porch of his cabin, criss-cross in one of the rocking chairs as she writes in her notebook. He couldn’t help but stop and stare at the way the setting sun hit her bronze skin, her curls casting intricate patterned shadows on the wood. He felt his heart pick up, his chest squeezing in that way, the way that only happened when he saw her. 

Shayna and Jesse stopped after a few moments when they realized Carm had gotten stuck behind. They both follow his gaze carefully to see what he was so fixed on, like a trance. 

“Holy fuuuck!!! Holy fuck how did I get this lucky!! She’s here? She’s here still?!” Shana asked excitedly, “oh my god- you’re getting laid- tonight” she excitedly skips up to the cabin and Syd looks up, locking eyes with her before seeing Carmen just a few paces behind.  “I’m Shayna! Do you and Carm wanna hang out with us tonight?”

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡♡♡

[ntls-24722]

Might be a weird question, but you know how humans tend to anthropomorphize animals and objects and such like in fiction?

Either by just giving them human language and thoughts, or by also making the animals/objects stand on two legs or an upright pose and more human like anatomy in the case with furries and such?

Or even give themselves features of animals like my sona with deer ears and legs and a long tail and such?

Or in ancient Egypt with the depictions of gods with animal heads

Or heck even just furries and fursonas

On Bolur, in any era, do the homo mousike ever anthropomorphize animals or objects in their art and stories? How would a Debu/Zebraman/elf fursona look like? How would they visually anthropomorphize other things in their art and stories?

I think about these things sometimes (when it comes to alien life/spec biology in general)

OOOOH. I LIKE THIS QUESTION A LOT.

So first: Yes, they anthropomorphize their animals and objects! Definitely now when their collective histories just began, but especially so in Zebraman culture all throughout their history, when their entire lives are centered around their animals (recent update, I need to flesh it out). Just about every zebraman god is animal-based because of it, and zebramen have way more societies focused on stewarding the land and its animals.

Debu anthropomorphize objects slightly more than other homo mousike - when nothing around you is your size, you relate to the things that are, and generally those things were the things made for you. They give them faces and have these masks or collective objects dedicated to concepts or people, or a particular figure is embued with a spirit of their own.

As for fursonas...

Ok, here on out, I'm gonna be calling them pycnofiberies, since everything here will be based on the night cloe. This is the debu Dog so I think this is a good candidate for furry-ization, and just for simplicity I'll use the night cloe for the zebrapeople anthros, too.

So, first thing off the bat - the most obvious anthromorphization for debu is sizing everything to their just like we do, it's just more obvious now that they're huge. The front teeth are usually really bunched together and seperate from the others on Bolur and while fusing together into beaks or tusks is common, the teeth are often seperate, like they are in night cloes. Debu often fuse them together to make them resemble tusks more ( since gaps in teeth are kind of uncanny to them) and add a beard, even if it's just stubble to their anthros, the same way we add our hair. They also add a mouthglow! In cartoons, Debu mouthglows sometimes are neon colored rather than just white as an exaggeration of the minute color differences in actual mouthglows, either to tell apart individual debu, as stylization or to be more obvious to the yellow-blue colorblind zebrapeople. (which is why yellow and green dyes are so rare - the species that develops the most dyes don't percieve greens and yellows very well.)

Also, a hump, in the same way we add boobs to everything regardless of the boobage in the actual animal. Humps in debu are attractive in both sexes, and are usually added regardless of the intent on making a character attractive.

And of course, for expressions, the nostrils are exaggeratedly large, no matter what animal it's on.

There's also the exaggeration of facial discs in night cloes the same way ears are in our furries, sometimes so extreme the edges jut out from the face. There's also a feature in a lot of "mary sues"/"gary stus" where the claws are overgrown - in Debu cultures, gods are often depicted with overgrown, curved hooves to demonstrate their age and "mythical-ness", as it's an occurrence in elderly debu but not a very common one. So, to show power, alongside a brightly glowing mouth, mary sue cloesonas have great, curved claws. There's also the "beastars" style hands, where they'll give their hooved hands to animals with little other animalistic detail.

Then there's cloe-girls and "angels"

Debu recognize facial discs as the ears of a cloe, but don't put them at their ears, they put them at the same place they see them - around the eyes. They have the same catgirl ear inaccuracies as us!

There's also angels, winged debu. They have the same gig as us where they just slap cloe wings on there without regard to homologous structures.

Now onto zebrapeople anthros!

Zebramen do the same thing as us, making their pycnofiberies stand on 4 or 6 legs rather than all 6 or 8 (depending on the -pedalism). Zebraelves though, as they are equally hexapodal as they are octopodal, do a mix of both, sometimes relating to sex - "drone" and "queen" pycnofiberies (they project their genders/sexes onto non-eusocial animals too) are often more hexapodal than their worker counterparts, as queen zebraelves are sometimes restricted to hexapodality on account of sometimes being too gravid to walk on all 8's, and drones just generally being found on cloeback or on the ground, where zebraelves usually assume a hexapodal posture. "Taurs" are also very common.

There's also the arm situation when it comes to night cloes specifically, because cloes generally have "plantigrade" forearms, while zebrapeople have "digigrade" forearms; their arm appears to have a second joint. Just like how we deal with digigrade legs in our furries, pycnofiberies have it either-or.

So - this is corny? (just because of the focus on stripes, the one thing that zebras are known for) but a beauty/aesthetically pleasing convention in zebrapeople is the "stripe continuation" comparable to how we like facial symmetry. It's attractive to them to have... geometric integrity with their stripes, which is why monobrows are seen as more attractive than broken brows. It's more exaggerated in zebraelves because their black and white stripes are more common, and they serve more of a purpose than they do in zebramen. Following this, cartoon zebrapeople's faces often are depicted with very simplistic X's, swooping stripes, or are made with "one line". So, abiding by toony laws, so are their pycnofiberies!

Their pycnofiberies have their eyebrows either following or coming off from a continued line, and their lip/nasal area is generally colored black, too, or the color of whatever follows the line. Night Cloes must be super common pycnofibersonas for zebrapeople the same way wolves are common fursonas, because wowza those facial discs follow stripe continuation really nicely.

(sidenote: i think zebrapeople would CONSTANTLY have weird looksmaxxing fads relating to the the geometric integrity of their stripes too, the same way looksmaxxing circles started fretting about canthal tilts and shit. it would get racist fast. just like us :') )

And, they do cloe-girls and angels the same way as us.

[anhed-nia]

I have been trying to figure out what to say about this movie since I saw it on the Brooklyn Horror Film Festival jury, and I keep running up against the embarrassing conclusion that it has been impossible for me not to take it personally. This happens occasionally, where something hits you so strongly right in your DNA that you can't even tell whether it's as good as you think it is; mercifully the quality of RED ROOMS is not in doubt, but it reminded me of my delusionally personal associations with the original SNOW WHITE. The Disney feature was one of the first movies I ever saw, and it seemed to communicate to me very directly about my options for living as a human female of the brunette variety: On one end of the spectrum there is the sickly virgin with her morbid beauty and her kinship with nature, and on the other end, the cannibalizing bitch goddess with her devious mind full of arcane knowledge (ok so the Wicked Queen is not actually dark-haired, but I assert that that cowl counts (and I want one)). As a little girl I thought, yes, this is a pretty good deal for me, either one of these assignments will do.

Pascal Plante's RED ROOMS offers a similar dichotomy, and it has proven very hard for me to avoid seeing its main characters as an Aspirational Self, and a disappointing Actual Self. Maybe RED ROOMS has a Magic Mirror quality, in fact maybe all films do, though they don't all speak so clearly and bluntly to every viewer.

Juliette Gariépy plays Kelly-Anne, a fashion model who is fixated on the high profile trial of Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) who is accused of serial murder and traffic in the snuff films of his young female victims. Seated in a row of goth groupies, the expressionless Kelly-Anne is identified with their fascination with the case, and yet we have no idea what really motivates her. Implicitly, few people would have any idea what it is like to be Kelly-Anne; as her internet handle LadyOfShalott suggests, she lives alone in a luxury highrise with the computer as her only connection to the outside world. She emerges for fashion shoots marked by her dark, edgy brand, and to attend the Chevalier trial. Otherwise, her only regular human contact is with online poker competitors who are no match for her savant-like math expertise and apparent lack of feeling. She presents as a bit of a sociopath, which becomes worrisome as she uses her technological skills to stalk the bereaved mother of the only victim whose recorded murder has not yet surface. However, Kelly-Anne is ultimately unknowable, and not much like the other fangirls and -boys who appear day after day at the hearings. We find evidence of this in the arrival of Clementine (Laurie Babin).

In opposition to Kelly-Anne, Clementine is needy, ingratiating, and naively intrusive. The tiny girl is fueled by her fanatical belief that Chevalier is innocent, a conviction she assumes Kelly-Anne must share. In a moment of rare empathy, the model invites the urchin into her sanctuary and, after flirting with the notion of human friendship, she eventually reveals enough to totally shatter the young woman's illusions. Clementine is the perfect foil, providing us with a tool for interrogating Kelly-Anne's identity and motivation--and for me, she also provided a painful reminder of the difference between myself and what I claim to value. Kelly-Anne is like every William Gibson heroine I have ever attached myself to: beautiful and alien, yet more intelligent than beautiful, dangerously brilliant and purpose-driven, emotionally incompatible with normal people, voluntarily exiled to the fringes of society despite her social currency and financial power. It's hard to imagine what she does and does not feel, but perhaps her life is not so easy. Clementine doesn't see it, of course, finding Kelly-Anne's robotic perfection very amusing. Clementine is her opposite: pretty only in a childlike way, hopelessly unself-conscious, counterbalancing her ignorance with self-righteous fanaticism. I saw myself there, and while Clementine is appealing and sympathetic despite (or even because of) her foibles, it wasn't a great feeling. She is obsessed rather than focused, embroiled in adult matters she can't quite grasp, and incapable of understanding or engineering other people's perceptions of her. She and Kelly-Anne make a lovely odd couple, but true connection is not quite possible, and Clementine only ends up feeling embarrassed, and like she has something to apologize for.

Whatever filmmaker Pascal Plante's grander statements might be, about the cybernetic nature of modern life and the merchandising of other people's lives and deaths, laced through as they are with a peculiar Arthurian motif, I've had a hard time fully engaging with them only because of my own passionate investment in his characters and their perverse interpersonal dynamics. Maybe by October I will have matured enough to articulate a more robust argument about this in-any-case extremely great movie. In the meantime, I am haunted by the enviable unknowability of Kelly-Anne, and the tragic transparency of Clementine. For now I will just say that I love it when a male filmmaker seems to live out a fantasy through a female character. One of the reasons that I don't totally dis Rob Zombie is that I enjoy the way that he encourages personal identification with tough female protagonists represented by his wife Sheri Moon, genre heroines like Meg Foster and Karen Black, and in my personal favorite instance, young Taylor Scout Compton:

When I saw this grim, black-eyed portrait of Pascal Plante, with its stark resemblance to Kelly-Anne, I thought yes, this guy gets it, he wants to live through her just like the rest of us, even if her version of humanity is not ours.

PS Please enjoy Lord Alfred Tennyson's description of average Tumblr user the Lady of Shalott, depicted visually by John William Waterhouse:

[slashingdisneypasta]

Did someone say free Disney villain gushing ticket? :D

- What do you think is under Maleficient's cowl? Like, do you think she has hair under there like the live action movie? Do you think she's bald? Do you think it's not a cowl at all and just a part of her head/horns? (I personally like the idea that it is a part of her head because... It just sounds like Mal to not have so many human features, including hair.)

(On that note; tooootally pure thought. Imagine Mal having a snake/reptilian-like tongue. This is purely for science, I swear.)

- I keep forgetting how much I love Alameda Slim! And just Home on the Range in general. But Slim is especially a fun villain! He kinda gives me 'Cowboy Ratigan' vibes with how extra he is and his musical prowess XD how do you think either of them would feel about this comparison?

- I think if you use specific things to burn, fire will change color. I'm not quite sure if I'm correct, but can you imagine Hades turning into different shades depending on what's around him? Also, also, if I'm correct, blue fire is actually hotter than red fire, which means when Hades is actually a higher temperature when completely calm! And somehow cools down when he's raging XD

- Silver and Scroop... Just... The alien husband's XD they're always on my mind. Nothing even specific, just them- wait WAIT! Imagine being in a throuple with them! You get to have your warm, affectionate, absolute lovely captain, and also your mean, dangerous (they're both equally dangerous, but Scroop is more aggressive about it), not so PDA but will still fight for you lover. The best of both worlds <3

- OK, you knew it was coming... Another Toon Patrol imagine XD imagine that you get to know them because they kept kidnapping you (not like a dark scenario, if that makes sense? Literally just them wanting to hang out, but they- especially Smartass probably- have no clue how to approach you normally, and they're all their own flavors of extra since they're villain toons, so they just 'pick you up' when they just want to play monopoly with you or something). And at this point, you just get used to it... But also tired of it. You're just like "Smarty, I get it, you guys are socially awkward, but I've used your shower and have eaten your food; I think we're past the burlap sack part of our relationship." Idk, this wouldn't leave my head and it made me chuckle so here XD

- Imagine all the side kicks start a support group in the Disney Villain House. Iago has anointed himself as the head of the group, next to Sir Hiss. Pain and Panic and Lefou are the ones who need the most help. Fidget is finally making some friends. Kaa and the hyenas are here for the food. And occasionally the weasels make an appearance since they are supposed to be Doom's henchmen. That's all I can think of at the moment XD

- OK we need Wheezy fluff/comedy, so here; imagine trying to help him with his clothes? Like, my guy here is wearing that ratty vest and that nicotine stained dress shirt everyday. He pulls it off, but for his own sake (and ours because *ahem* those Bill Moseley gifs), we gotta figure something out. It may not nearly be Goob level since he at least has some self-respect, but still. Maybe you two go clothing shopping, or you try to figure whatever concoction of detergent, bleach, and pure willpower and elbow grease will make his shirts white again. Or at least get the smell out. Your thoughts?

Ok this was more of a imagining then a gushing, but I hope you like these XD

OKAY OKAY OKAY you should know that when this came through I was making my bed- and Lotso got thrown in my effort to finish it so I could read this XD sorry lotso

Maleficent: I do think that's part of her head!! :D I agree, hair makes her a bit too human. If it was a cowl- I think she'd shave her head. She doesn't want to be seen as a beautiful fair Tinkerbell-type. Men cannot be trusted to not try and hunt her down in the woods for a glimpse, and thats just more trouble then its worth. Besides, being fair is kind of Hilda's thing XD And Gastons.

Imagine seeing her bald head for the first time; horns brown and rough, under the slick black cowl and telling her she's amazing, gently guiding her down into a kiss <3 She's very proud you're the way you are, and she found you.

She's not shy about thrusting her slimy, forked tongue carefully into your mouth and forcing you to moan for it.

(Um?? Yes to her having a reptilian tongue!! Oh my goodness! It's very in character XDD Haha)

Alameda Slim and Professor Ratigan: Ahhh, I can see that!! XDD Very eccentric, and sensitive XD I don't think either of them would be pleased at the comparison though! 😂😂😂 They're both just silent, giving eachother sideways glances, thinking... 'the rat?' / 'the fat guy?' .

'Cowboy Ratigan', though XDDD Thats so funny XDDD

Hades: Oh I have heard that too!!! I wish they would have used that in the movie, that would have just been so cool! Hades' bodily lore just gets more and more interesting XD

And- right??? I'm sure that's just a design decision (Blue is a calm colour, red passionate) but I do think they coulda made the opposite look pretty cool (Imagine he turns electric blue when furious) but the blue suits him ^^ Red woulda been a tip off XDD Haha. And besides, blue fits with his smooth talking, used car salesman vibe.

Silver and Scroop: ALIEN THROUPLE Y E S XD You get a gentleman who stands up for your honour from behind you, a hand on your shoulder, only subtly threatening people lives when they insult you or make you uncomfortable, and then immediately works to cheer you up again- and also your mean, asshole boyfriend who will get in between you and any threat and just boldly threaten their lives... descriptively (Who you have to calm down afterwards XD). Best of both worlds, haha.

Imagine some asshole at a bar getting mad when you don't react nice to his flirting, and before you even know it Scroop is hissing obscenities in that gravelly voice that make your cheeks hot at the guy. You're shocked, though you don't know why you are (Scroop is always like this), and you let Silver guide you carefully back from the two, guiding you to another seat. "We'll sit 'ere til he's done, lass. I'd step in, but... I think I'd like to keep this old hardware attached ta me." He winks. "Mr Scroop's got this under control. Lets getcha another drink, eh?"

Toon Patrol: Ahhhhh, yes perfect! XD Haha. Omg. Guys, you can- you can call them up and just invite them somewhere- *sigh*

I can totally see this XDDD

Imagine the bag gets ripped off of you and you're just deadpanned, looking at Wheezy who pulled it off of you. "... you must realise, that this has become ridiculous."

"I do... boss doesn't. And, 'sides... its amusing."

"Grrrrrrr- "

Sidekicks: I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH. I JUST LOVE IT XDDD Imagine Sir Hiss and Iago arguing over leadership and everyone else, even Smartass, is just like 'isn't this supposed to be for support??... we getta enough of this at home. XD like 'I have ssssssss-eniority, over you! Besides, more experience- ' 'well, I'm more popular than you bub so shut up and gimmie the gabble.'

Wheezy: I- I cant- I'm weak at the thought XDDD You get to choose his clothes?? Ahhhhhhh, that's absolutely a dream XD He'd be so relaxed, letting you hand him damn near anything and trying it on, staying still while you make adjustments, not making it uncomfortable at all, just looking hot, etc. Reminds me of this one scene in Gilmore Girls XD

Incorrect Quote:

Smartass, walking in on Y/N tightening Wheezy's belt: ... what in fucks name are the two of you doin'??

Y/N: Oh!- *Startled to see Smartass, hands flying away from their boyfriend* Its not what it looks like!

Wheezy: ... *Chill. Taking a drag from his cigerette*

Smartass: It looks like you're dressing 'im...

Y/N: Oh- well then. uh. It's exactly what it looks like! 😅😅😅😅😅😅😅

Smartass: well now i don't believe you-

Alternative excerpt though, with and Wheezy Y/N being an old married couple XD :

Wheezy: Stop tightening my belt, I don't wanna look like a kid goin to prom.

Y/N: You have a slim waist. You need the support!

Wheezy: *Rolling his eyes and groaning around his cig* Look if my pants fall down- just call it a bonus okay? Just let me go, woman.

Y/N: Wheezy, sweetheart, your flaccid penis is not the turn on you think it is.

Wheezy: God I could use a smoke right now.

Y/N: You're SMOKING ONE.

[rollercoasterwords]

#do not even get me STARTED on the overlap w zombie media godddds

I for one am very here to get you started on the overlap with zombie media if you’d like 👀 I love your meta and I think you’d have some really interesting thoughts!

omg omg omg ok kissing u on the mouth first of all second of all i don't even think this is going to be coherent it's just gonna be me rambling but it'll probably get way too fucking long so i'm gonna put it under a cut

okay so the thing about zombies is that they are the perennial "other," right, even more so than most other types of monsters, because the defining feature of the zombie is ego death. like--werewolves, vampires, frankenstein's monster...even creature features like alien or the thing, all these horror movie monsters still have some form of subjective identity, some sense of self, and usually the conflict comes because these monsters live in ways that cannot coexist with human life.

zombies have no identity beyond consumption. like, i would argue that the core feature of a zombie even moreso than just "reanimated corpses" is this violent need to consume--and, in that consumption, to reproduce, to create more zombies. (this gets played around with in a lot of more recent films but i'll get into that later). so, in a way zombies are the antithesis to humanity, because humanity requires coherent identity, and zombies do not have that. in a way, it's almost utopic; zombies are genderless, sexless, without race or capital or religion or politics or any of the things that creates conflict between humans. zombies typically have no issues with each other; theoretically, in a world with no humans and only zombies, there would be absolute peace.

but, ok. hang on. let me back up a bit. because the thing about trends in horror is that they reflect societal fears of the time, and zombies have changed quite a bit throughout history. like, most people agree that the original zombie movie was White Zombie in 1932, which i haven't personally watched but i have read about and like. my interpretation is that a lot of the fear the movie speaks to is fear of the foreign, particularly foreign men/the masculinized foreigner, and as much as i want to go on a rant about like the historical context surrounding that and the gendered dynamics that arise from the movie and how it can be read onto a war story (particularly since we're dealing with the lost generation here, like all these young people who are traumatized from wwi), i am going to reign myself in. and just say: in the original zombie movie the core focus of the zombie was not consumption--in fact, as far as i'm aware (again, haven't actually watched the movie), eating people wasn't even part of it. instead, the zombie was just a mindless puppet being controlled by somebody else, and this is because the zombie mythology that White Zombie was drawing from originated in Haiti, where the zombi was a reanimated dead body that was used as a slave (which really illustrates like. the colonial overtones of White Zombie, where a cultural figure representing the fear and pain of slavery was essentially taken and pasted into a story where the primary monster is the foreign threat to white americans).

SO it's not until 1968, Night of the Living Dead, that romero introduces cannibalism to zombies, and also introduces like...the concept of The Horde. like, in White Zombie, the focus is really just on a single zombie (although there are a few more), but i don't think it's until romero that we get this like cultural image of a horde of cannibalistic ghouls crowding in and attacking.

and so like--this is 1968, right? fear of the Other looks a bit different but is still very much swirling in U.S. politics--like, we've got the cold war, the civil rights movement, the vietnam war, the space race. and the monsters in Night of the Living Dead are actually tied to both fears about aliens and nuclear radiation--supposedly they were created by the radiation from an exploding space probe or something. so in a lot of ways, these mindless hungry monsters are standing in for any number of broad, "evil" forces that the American public is being constantly warned about. but at the same time, there is an argument to be made that romero critiques that fear in the survivor dynamics he portrays and especially in the way he ends the film with Ben's character (again, refraining from another sub-rant within my rant).

okay so THEN after Night of the Living Dead we see the rise in this cultural figure of the zombie, and in the later half of the twentieth century the zombie is normally portrayed as these hordes of reanimated, cannibalistic corpses. but we don't really get this boom in zombie media until the late 90s/early 21st century, particularly post 9/11 with the rise of the war on terror. once again, a lot of these nebulous fears about the "Other" are in the foreground--we've got the advent of the internet, which begins to globalize and connect the world in unprecedented ways; we've got the AIDs crisis and fear of disease and contagion; we've got the war on terror and fear of the cultural Other who takes the form of violent, mindless hordes in the american imagination. and we get not just movies like the 28 Days Later franchise but also other media like The Walking Dead comics (debuted in 2003) which will eventually become staples of the zombie genre.

and so by the early 2000s we've got the zombie established as a horror monster + cultural figure, which opens things up to start pushing the borders of what makes a zombie a zombie and sort of exploring with new forms of zombiism. and we start to see this more in a few different ways--one is the simple physical conventions, which i'm less concerned with, but i think 28 Days Later is the best example of this--suddenly, you not only have fast zombies, but also zombies that haven't died and come back to life at all, but rather have a monstrosity rooted in disease. but then you also have movies like I Am Legend, where we're starting to explore not only different physical forms of zombiism, but also the possibility of sentient zombies.

(sidenote--i know that we saw sentient zombiism explored somewhat before the 21st century, with movies like Day of the Dead, but i feel like it wasn't really until the 21st century that the concept started to take root. just let me have this one lmao)

and now the thing is--remember what i said earlier? a core feature of zombiism is ego death, and it's that ego death that is key to making a zombie a zombie and separating them from humans. so what does it mean when zombies suddenly become sentient--when they can communicate and form their own societies? where is the new line between human and zombie?

we start to see the sentient zombie really take root in the 2010s--2013 is a big year, with both the release of Warm Bodies and the initial air date of In The Flesh (an AMAZING show if you haven't watched it you should. i will forever be bitter that it was canceled). and we start to get a lot of movies that really, really blur this boundary between zombie and non-zombie. a non-comprehensive list of just ones i've seen that come to mind: All Cheerleaders Die (2013), Raw (2016), The Girl With All the Gifts (2016), Zombie For Sale (2019), and now, most recently, if you think about Netflix's Army of the Dead (2021), we see this growing trend of zombie media blurring the boundaries between human and zombie. and i've limited myself to movies for the most part here--this trend can also be found in zombie TV shows (think Santa Clarita Diet or even Z Nation--one of the most atrocious shows ever made which i think absolutely everyone should watch), books, probably even video games (although that's one area of zombie media i really haven't consumed, so honestly i'm not sure). like, at this point we've got zombies that can fall in love (I Am Legend, Warm Bodies, In the Flesh, All Cheerleaders Die, Zombie for Sale, Santa Clarita Diet), zombies that can build their own societies that mirror human ones (The Girl With All The Gifts, Army of the Dead), zombies that literally live and function alongside humans (Santa Clarita Diet, In the Flesh, The Girl With All the Gifts), even zombies that sire or give birth to children (Z Nation, Army of the Dead).

of course, there's still an abundance of zombie media making use of more "traditional" zombie monsters, too. but i think this steady increase in zombie media eroding the boundary between zombie and human has ultimately left zombies with only one uniting feature that holds true across almost every distinct form of zombie media from the latter half of the 20th century onwards (at least, i can't think of any exceptions): their cannibalistic hunger.

and so like this is where we start to hit the sweet spot of crossover with cannibal movies and zombie movies, because not all cannibals are zombies, but all zombies seem to be cannibals. and what does it mean that zombies, over the past fifteen years or so, have become monstrous less for their mindlessness and ego death and more for their violent consumption?

like, at the end of the day i feel like what's happening with the zombie genre and also the growing popularity of cannibalism as a horror trope (and the changing form it's taken--oh i could write a whole 'nother essay about the sexification of cannibalism. like, remember when cannibalism was very much "the hills have eyes" grossness? and now it's timothee chalamet in a romance movie?) are both spinning around this centerpoint of our own growing horror with the culture of consumption that late-stage capitalism has trapped us all in, where we are no longer individuals but instead only consumers. and, simultaneously, products to be consumed. and we are beginning to see more and more that the only forms of connection available to us are through consumption, and just like sentient zombies, we might be horrified of what we're becoming, but we cannot rid ourselves of this hunger for connection, even if the only avenues left to seek it are by consuming or being consumed.

so like, to summarize, i sort of see the evolution of the zombie as: monster representing fear of slavery -> monster representing fear of the proverbial Other -> monster representing fear of ourselves

like i think we are beginning to see a cultural shift in zombie media where it's less blatantly nationalist propaganda (or propaganda against whatever x group is being Othered in the cultural consciousness of the moment) and starting to turn towards these questions about the blurry lines of humanity as late-stage capitalism looms larger as like the Monster of Cultural Consciousness. which is!!!! so interesting to me!!!!

[jewishjon]

I posted 7,164 times in 2022

That's 5,126 more posts than 2021!

99 posts created (1%)

7,065 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fricklefracklefloof

@vang0bus

@mag200

@ashes-in-a-jar

@natequarter

I tagged 931 of my posts in 2022

#the magnus archives - 43 posts

#jonathan sims - 39 posts

#dk don't look - 36 posts

#tma - 33 posts

#unreality - 32 posts

#jonmartin - 30 posts

#prev tags - 27 posts

#dk don’t look - 22 posts

#martin blackwood - 22 posts

#jmart - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 131 characters

#jmart au where jon can’t look at ppl without compelling them/eating their fear and martin who’s autistic and can’t make eye contact

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

This looks very exciting! Here is the whole thread so you can see some of the other very cool-looking stories that will be coming in the podcast https://twitter.com/TheRustyQuill/status/1547249500120526848?s=20&t=VJT97wnKnnTDp2pJbLffSQ.

[Image description: Two images featuring tweets from Twitter user Rusty Quill @/therustyquill. The first reads: ‘Introducing a new anthology podcast: Neon Inkwell, releasing in October 2022. #NeonInkwell is a home for short-form audiodrama, introducing listeners to new and underrepresented creators (as well as a few familiar faces). (1/7)’. Also in the tweet is an image of the show artwork for Neon Inkwell. The background has a frosted glass effect, with many colours ranging from purples to yellows and reds. In the centre is a diamond shape, with two faces. In white, stylised capital letters are the words ‘Neon Inkwell’.

The second tweet reads ‘Firstly, ‘Of That Colossal Wreck’, science fiction with a horror twist, by some familiar names for fans of The Magnus Archives: @SiennaSasha and @/jonnywaistcoat. On a space ship, long after the extinction of humanity, five people awaken - but they may not be alone… (3/7)’ Under the tweet is an image that is a social media card for Neon Inkwell. The background has a frosted glass effect, with colours ranging from purples to greens. On the left-hand side is the Neon Inkwell show artwork. On the right is text with two photographs of Jonny Sims and Sasha Sienna underneath. Text reads: ‘Of That Colossal Wreck’. When five artificially grown people awaken on an abandoned space station long after the extinction of humanity, they must confront their purpose, their future and the carnivorous alien beings which have taken over the facility. Created by Jonathan Sims (he/him) and Sasha Sienna (he/she/they)’. End ID]

511 notes - Posted July 15, 2022

#4

magnus archives fans

1,605 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

#3

*talking to someone I’m trying to get into tma* Ok so that’s Jon, the main character. Then there’s Jonny, the guy who wrote it. There’s also Jonny, Jonny’s character in the band the Mechanisms. And of course don’t forget John, the character who Jonny - the creator - is playing in upcoming podcast Re: Dracula. You need to remember that Rusty Quill and the transcripts really like to spell Jon (you remember, the main character) as John. Yeah, yeah, so don’t worry, it’s not hard to remember at all.

1,774 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

#2

I am telling myself not to get my hopes up bc this probably means nothing. but also I will not be sleeping tonight.

2,174 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Oh god oh fuck oh no

[image description: a screenshot of an article from the Financial Times where the headline reads ‘Tumblr picks itself up again after years of struggle’ and the excerpt underneath reads ‘Creative, chaotic and anonymous, the blogging platform has lots of appeal for Gen Z.’ End ID.]

27,721 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Planetary (2)

In which Jungkook travels the solar system for new things to see; a journey that leads him to his most amazing discovery yet- you.

Tags/Warnings: Space traveler!Jungkook, Alien!Reader, bit of angst, near death experience, slight language barrier, absolute science fiction yall, mc is the cutest because it's the reader character aka you haha get it, no? OK, imma let you read it now

<- Previous

You wake up in a soft and warm environment- very different to where you usually sleep. There's soft clicking and tapping heard, electrics whirring all around you it seems, while the light isn't aggressive when you open your eyes.

When you look to the side, there he is; Jungkook, stretching his arms above his head, making his bones Crack a little as he groans in relief. "Oh?" He turns, noticing you're awake. "Ah, you're up. Feeling better?" He asks, and you concentrate a bit, trying to figure out how to answer without making a fool of yourself. You understood more of this human language than you actually spoke- you didn't need the language here on your planet.

"Hmhm." You simply nod, before pointing at the door, then at yourself. "Me.. go?" You ask, and he shakes his head with a reassuring smile, one arm draped over the back or his chair, computer screens illuminating his features.

"No, you're still hurt." He says. "You can sleep there, don't worry." He smiles, and you look around.

"..you?" You ask pointing to him and the bed.

"Where am I sleeping?" He asks, and you nod. "The floor. Its fine, really." He says, before he turns around to face his computer system again. You make a disagreeing noise, twirling sound underneath your breath something he remembers from the last time he'd met you years back. He'd thought it was cute back then- he still does so, now.

"No." You say, getting up from the comfortable mattress, a bit dizzy for a moment before you catch yourself. "You." You say, pointing to the bed.

"I'm not tired though." He teases, joking around and you only notice after a moment or two, suddenly squinting your eyes at him before you make a clicking sound.

"No!" You say again, pointing to the bed again as he laughs. "Hey!" You scold him, but can't help the laugh mixing in as well. You slowly remember him- the same eyes now a bit more mature. But they still crinkle the same at the very corners, bright grin and lighthearted laughter unchanged, even though his physical appearance definitely did.

"Hey-" he suddenly says, getting up to open a white box- getting something out of it before he holds it out to you. You can't read it, but the picture on it makes it clear what it is-making your eyes sparkle. "I always carry some with me. They're not the exact same-" he starts, unpacking the sweet icecream treat. "But that should make you remember me." He grins, holding one mochi out for you to take.

Instead, you bite it while he still holds it- lips touching the very tips of his fingers, making his breath stop. Have your eyelashes always been so pretty?

"Jungkook." You giggle after letting the icecream dissolve in your mouth. "You." You point, and he smiles.

"Yeah." He says, putting the other half into your open mouth- unable to keep himself from admiring the way the artificial lights in his little spaceship illuminate your features. "Thats me." He mumbles.

Happy you remember.

[thisismisogynoir]

So I'm 75% black, (my father was half black/half white, mom was monoracial (black)

And whenever I see something like "oh I didn't feel black enough, the black community alienated me" I'm just like...huh? I'm lightskin asf (I do have afrocentric features tho, like my nose, lips, hair) and I've lived in black communities all my life, I've gone to school with (monoracial) black people, and everyone was very accepting of me. Like no one ever tried to tell me I wasn't black. No one was ever mean to me on the account of my light skin or anything. I don't really understand the whole "I wasn't black enough" thing I see all the time. Idk it's just weird and it feels like people are finding excuses to hate on the community, like there's some standard of blackness to fit in. Like black communities are exclusive country clubs or something.

I'd just like to ask, is it ok for me to identify as black? Because I certainly don't want to co-opt black spaces or contribute to the rampant monoracial black women erasure (like biracial girls getting casted all the time instead of dark skin black women for dark skin black characters).

I've tried researching, and I can't really find anything aside from the whole "biracial self-victimization" thing. Thank you!

That's because you are Black. I think you can identify as such considering that 75% Black is literally majority Black lmao dw. If you were only half-Black that would be different.

I recognize that I can't tell people how to identify but I would really appreciate if biracial people had a little bit of sensitivity and didn't try to co-opt Blackness only when it suits them while ridiculing and marginalizing Black people for their own issues whenever it suits them. Especially since like you said most Black people will accept you with open arms even if you're not fully Black, as long as you're either half or more due to the one-drop rule sadly(in the case of half). I'm glad that your experiences don't match up with what other people are saying(especially since lots of those complaints aren't even true, they're just Black people asking for their experiences and voices to not be trampled over by biracial people and being met with "omg how dar eyou exclud meeee!!! !1! >:(" honestly.).

Rest assured in your identity, and take care!

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Miss American Pie

Chapter Five: This Will Be The Day (Finale)

Warning: this series features a romantic Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader pairing.

Summary: Everyone has returned but the battle for humanity against Thanos wages on.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You wake in a coughing fit, the rubble surrounding you sears your lungs. “Natasha.” You call into the rocks and flickering lights. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Natasha!”

“Here, I’m here.” Her voice is rough, pained.

You push yourself toward the sound, through the dust you can make out her hair. “You ok?”

“Mostly.” She’s laying face up, a few scratches visible.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I can’t move.” She nods at the piece of collapsed cement. “My leg is broken, you should go.” Nat says, staring up at the sky.

“I should’ve never let you go to Vormir. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” You try uselessly to budge the blockage over her leg.

“What is Vormir?” She asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “How much do you remember?”

“The red room.”

“Do you remember getting out?”

“No one gets out.” She shakes her head.

“We did.” You inform her. “Yelena did.”

“Yelena?” Her gaze finds yours. “You know Yelena? Is she here?”

“Yes, I know her.” You press your lips together. “She’s not here though.”

“The rest of this building is coming down. If you were really trained in the red room you have to know that.” Natasha frowns. “You need to leave.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Don’t be a hero.” She whispers. “Let me go, it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not.” You argue. “I won’t do it again.”

“What about Yelena?” Natasha gives you a pointed look.

“She’ll understand.” This is what she would do.

“Hey,” Natasha pushes herself up on her elbows. “Would it be a good thing or a bad thing if a giant man in a metal suit carrying a smaller man and a raccoon appeared behind your head?”

You turn toward the man in question. Scott Lang. “It would be a good thing.”

———————————————————————

Natasha is taken somewhere safe. She can’t fight.

As the strange doctor and his disciples start opening portals you see that you’re not alone. Through one comes Alexei, Melina and Yelena.

Her white suit is pristine, dirty blonde hair held away from her face in ponytails.

On shaky legs you move toward her, taking your rightful place at her side. Facing what lies ahead together.

Yelena catches your hand, “this isn’t much of a welcome home.”

You can’t help but laugh, “pretty cool way to die though.”

“Very,” she agrees. “Natasha?”

“She is a little worse for wear.” You warn her, “but alive…and safe.”

Yelena gives you a watery smile, squeezing your fingers. “And you?”

“A tower fell on me.”

“Of course it did.”

Thanos’ army is nothing to scoff at. Giant airborne creatures hover over his troops. Larger monsters stand in their ranks, space ship overhead ready to destroy.

Steve is almost unrecognizable, covered in dirt, his shield battered and broken. But you know it is time when he gives the order. “Avengers, assemble.”

Fighting is easy, it’s what you know. What you were trained to do. Fight to stay alive, fight for what you believe in, fight with Yelena; for Yelena.

The two of you move together like a well oiled machine. Like riding a bike, even after all this time you could never forget.

“We’ve got company to the left.” Yelena says through gritted teeth, kicking at the alien creature beside her. Dropping an empty cartridge to the ground and reloading her gun seamlessly, firing several shots.

Despite everyone’s best efforts they just keep coming. “Do we have a plan here?”

“Getting there,” Steve replies. “Anybody have eyes on the gauntlet?”

“Yeah!” Clint rushes past you with the glove in hand. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Get it out of here!” Tony insists.

“What’s happening?” Alexei shouts over the chaos. “I still don’t have ear piece.”

“Just keep their army away from that guy in the tank top.” You grunt, falling backwards from the force of one of Thanos’ soldiers colliding with you.

“We have to get the stones back where they came from.” Rhodey reminds everyone.

“The time space tunnel is completely collapsed.” Tony points out.

“That isn’t our only time machine.” Lang cuts in.

“Does anyone see an ugly brown van out there?” Captain America’s voice hums through the ear bud.

“I do,” a female voice chimes in. “But you’re not going to like where it’s parked.”

After grappling for far too long, you manage to knock the creature from you. Using your knife to dismember it.

“Next time, we get the cool laser guns.” Yelena yells loud enough to be heard by everyone on the network, as she hauls you to your feet.

“Friday, please add laser guns for the ballerinas to my grocery list.” Stark gives his smart ass remark.

“What’s the word on the van?” Rhodey wonders.

“Working on it now.”

The ship at Thanos’ disposal begins raining fire, no regard for their own troops.

“We’ve got people going down!” Rocket hollers.

“Clint,” you call into the microphone. “How’s that gauntlet?”

“Moving down the field.” The archer replies, “I’m alright too, thanks for asking.”

“Good.” You bite back a smile.

Hell continues breaking loose around you. Glowing circular orbs unfold in the air above, providing coverage from the missiles. You’re not sure if this is winning or losing. It feels like a bit of both.

———————————————————————- Thanos and his army are dusted away. Leaving you surprised and still swinging as the shock wears off.

You won. You. Won.

And you lost.

You lost Tony Stark. The man you’d barely known, but offered you clarity that will stay with you forever.

You lost the Natasha you’d come to know over the five years that Yelena was gone. Some parts of the redhead stripped away for the price of the stone.

But she’s still here. Waiting in the wings to be greeted by Yelena and their little makeshift family. You share a look of understanding when your eyes meet over the blonde’s shoulder.

Others come, Banner refuses to leave her side. Despite the fact that Natasha doesn’t remember him.

Clint falls to the ground at her feet. Breaking down at the sight of his friend, his family alive and well. She doesn’t remember him either, but welcomes him into her arms somewhat awkwardly.

Her expressions flicker from happy to overwhelmed. Hesitant to open herself up to the possibility that she is wanted, needed and loved.

Too confusing for the girl who only remembers the red room. Adjusting to this life will take time.

Everyone begins clearing out, their jobs finished. Rushing home to reunite with their loved ones. Tomorrow will bring about new challenges. The world is in shambles, and so are you.

Steve decides that he should be the one to return the stones. His goodbye tells you that he has a bit more in mind. But this is his life. His choices, not yours.

“Well, I guess we should head out too.” You say after a while. Your car is gone, lost in the wreckage from the explosion.

The setting sun is eclipsed, causing all of you to turn your gaze upwards just in time to see the ship’s door open.

“Is that a raccoon?” Melina asks, pointing toward Rocket.

“Do you want a ride or not?” Rocket shoots back.

“Not the avenger’s super jet, but it will do huh?” Alexei smiles, this is his dream.

“This is better!” A man’s voice carries down from the interior.

“Well,” Yelena shrugs, “if you say so.” She leads the pack up the ramp and onto the ship.

“Fanny and the pigs will be expecting dinner soon.”

“How are they?” Melina asks, “have you been taking care of them.”

“That was me!” Alexei says proudly, bending at the waist to gather Natasha into his arms. “Aye honey,” he grunts, hoisting her up. “You are only little girl in my heart.”

Nat pushes against his chest in retaliation.

“Do you mind if I hitch a ride too?” Clint asks.

“The extra stop will cost you,” Nebula stares blankly at him from her seat.

“They always do.” He remarks, trotting up the ramp.

Bruce paces at the foot of the metal grate, watching the rest of you load up. “I gotta hang back, make sure Steve gets there in one piece.”

“After what happened with Scott the first time I’d say that’s probably the best bet.” You agree, standing near the entrance.

“Yeah,” he smiles, kindly. “Keep me posted on Nat, will ya?”

“I will,” you return the smile.

“I’ll see you around.”

You nod, “I’ll see you.”

The captain of the ship introduces himself as Star-lord, and after a moment without response, Quill.

“Any requests?” He asks, finger hovering over the control panel.

Alexei creeps over to the younger man, quietly relaying a message.

“Alright,” Quill nods. Stroking the keys until a familiar set of notes ring out.

“A long, long time ago-“ The singer croons.

You let out a chuckle.

“I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance. And maybe they'd be happy for a while.”

“We’re really doing this?” Yelena puts a hand to her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward.

“But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver. Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step.” The melody carries on.

“It’s your song.” Natasha turns to her sister.

“I can't remember if I cried. When I read about his widowed bride.” Melina’s eyes are far away, carried back to their years in Ohio. Before the world had been so cruel.

“Something touched me deep inside, the day the music-“

“Died.” Yelena joins in, lulling her head to the side to gage your reaction.

You sigh, all of this beyond surreal. But you allow yourself to live in this moment, because you might not get another. “So bye, bye Miss American Pie…”

“Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry.” The roaring chorus of voices fills the silence you’ve grown used to. Fills the parts of you that were empty for so long. “And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye. Singin', “this’ll be the day that I die.”

“This’ll be the day that I die.” Yelena sings, her face alight with a childlike glee.

——————————————————————-

Melina, Natasha and Alexei stay with you for a while. A few weeks as Natasha heals and becomes acclimated to her life.

She claims to hate the attention, but deep down you know she’s full of it.

The Ohio house is bursting at the seams with five adults, nine pigs and one dog.

That isn’t enough to keep visitors at bay. Namely Clint, his wife Laura and their three children.

Things feel a bit off when everyone begins moving out. Alexei, Melina, and their pigs return to the farm outside of Saint Petersburg.

Natasha finds herself drawn to New York, with Bruce and the makeshift building he’s using as a lab.

You adjust to the steady thrum that is daily life, with Fanny and Yelena.

After dinner you load the dishwasher, drying your hands on the nearby tea towel before selecting a cycle.

“So how does it feel?” Yelena asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hmm?” You turn to face her.

“Being a hero.” She clarifies, a smile playing at her lips.

“I’m not-“

“Oh cut the crap, Y/N. You saved the world.” Yelena narrows her eyes at you.

“I did it for you.” You say simply, because it’s true.

Yelena closes the space between you, “why?”

“You know why.” You whisper as she cups your face in her hands, gently stroking her thumb over your cheek. “It’s ok if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

“I’d do more for you, and worse.” She assures you. “But do you really want to spend the rest of your life fumbling around feelings in the dark when you could have someone who-“

“I want you. I only ever want you.” You beckon her closer. “Anyway I can have you, that will be enough for me.”

Sometimes wires get crossed and you want things you never have before. And she provides them before you have a chance to ask. You give back to her tenfold, so that neither glass is ever empty. That is love. True love, the only way you’ve ever known it.

“I am yours…in every way a person can belong to another.” Yelena breathes, “and then some.”

Series taglist: @jeyramarie @freeshavocadoooo @ilovewinter101 @3and30aresoultwins @yelenabelovv @miphas-trident @1800-fight-me

If you loved this series as much as I did, you can check out the prequel here!

[writingwithcolor]

Jurassic period alien interacting with key cultures and historical figures in Middle East & Asia throughout history

@ketchupmaster400​ said:

Hello, so my question is for a character I’ve been working on for quite a while but wasn’t sure about a few things. So basically at the beginning of the universe there was this for less being made up of dark matter and dark energy. Long story short it ends up on earth during the Jurassic Period. It has the ability to adapt and assimilate into other life animals except it’s hair is always black and it’s skin is always white and it’s eyes are always red. It lives like this going from animal to animal until it finally becomes human and gains true sentience and self awareness. As a human it lives within the Middle East and Asia wondering around trying to figure out its purpose and meaning. So what I initially wanted to do with it was have small interactions with the dark matter human and other native humans that kinda helped push humanity into the direction it is now. For example, Mehndhi came about when the dark matter human was drawing on their skin because it felt insecure about having such white skin compared to other people. And ancient Indians saw it and thought it was cool so they adopted it and developed it into Mehndi. Minor and small interactions though early history leading to grander events. Like they would be protecting Jerusalem and it’s people agains the Crusaders later on. I also had the idea of the the dark matter human later on interacting with the prophets Jesus Christ and Muhammad. With Jesus they couldn’t understand why he would sacrifice himself even though the people weren’t deserving. And then Jesus taught them that you have to put other before yourself and protecting people is life’s greatest reward. And then with the prophet Muhammad, I had the idea that their interaction was a simple conversation that mirrors the one he had with the angel Jibril, that lead to the principles of Islam. Now with these ideas I understand the great importance of how not to convey Islam and I’ve been doing reasearch, but I am white and I can understand how that may look trying to write about a different religion than my own. So I guess ultimate my question is, is this ok to do? Is it ok to have an alien creature interact with religious people and historical events as important as they were? Like I said I would try to be as accurate and as respectable as possible but I know that Islam can be a touchy subject and the last thing I would want is to disrespect anyone. The main reason I wanted the dark matter being in the Middle East was because I wanted to do something different because so much has been done with European and American stuff I wanted to explore the eastern side of the world because it’s very beau and very rich with so many cultures that I want to try and represent. I’m sorry for the long post but I wanted you guys to fully understand what my idea was. Thank you for your time and hope you stay safe.

Disclaimer:

The consensus from the moderators was that the proposed character and story is disrespectful from multiple cultural perspectives. However, we can’t ignore the reality that this is a commonly deployed trope in many popular science fiction/ thriller narratives. Stories that seek to take religious descriptions of events at face value from an areligious perspective particularly favor this approach. Thus, we have two responses:

Where we explain why we don’t believe this should be attempted.

Where we accept the possibility of our advice being ignored.

1) No - Why You Shouldn’t Do This:

Hi! I’ll give you the short answer first, and then the extended one.

Short answer: no, this is not okay.

Extended answer. I’ll divide it into three parts.

1) Prophet Muhammad as a character:

Almost every aspect of Islam, particularly Allah (and the Qur’an), the Prophet(s) and the companions at the time of Muhammad ﷺ, are strictly kept within the boundaries of real life/reality. I’ll assume this comes from a good place, and I can understand that from one side, but seriously, just avoid it. It is extremely disrespectful and something that is not even up to debate for Muslims to do, let alone for non-Muslims. Using Prophet Muhammad as a character will only bring you problems. There is no issue with mentioning the Prophet during his lifetime when talking about his attributes, personality, sayings or teachings, but in no way, we introduce fictional aspects in a domain that Muslims worked, and still work, hard to keep free from any doubtful event or incident. Let’s call it a closed period: we don’t add anything that was not actually there.

Reiterating then, don’t do this. There is a good reason why Muslims don’t have any pictures of Prophet Muhammad. We know nothing besides what history conveyed from him. 

After this being said, there is another factor you missed – Jesus is also an important figure in Islam and his story from the Islamic perspective differs (a lot) from that of the Christian perspective. And given what you said in your ask, you would be taking the Christian narrative of Jesus. If it was okay to use Prophet Muhammad as a character (reminder: it’s not) and you have had your dark matter human interacting with the biblical Jesus, it will result in a complete mess; you would be conflating two religions.

2) Crusaders and Jerusalem:

You said this dark matter human will be defending Jerusalem against the Crusaders. At first, there is really no problem with this. However, ask yourself: is this interaction a result of your character meeting with both Jesus and Prophet Muhammed? If yes, please refer to the previous point. If not, or even if you just want to maintain this part of the story, your dark matter human can interact with the important historical figures of the time. For example, if you want a Muslim in your story, you can use Salah-Ad-Din Al-Ayoubi (Saladin in the latinized version) that took back Jerusalem during the Third Crusade. Particularly, this crusade has plenty of potential characters. 

Also, featuring Muslim characters post Prophet Muhammad and his companions’ time, is completely fine, just do a thorough research.

 3) Middle Eastern/South Asian settings and Orientalism:

The last point I want to remark is with the setting you chose for your story. Many times, when we explore the SWANA or South Asian regions it’s done through an orientalist lens. Nobody is really safe from falling into orientalism, not even the people from those regions. My suggestion is educating yourself in what orientalism is and how it’s still prevalent in today’s narrative. Research orientalism in entertainment, history... and every other area you can think of. Edward Said coined this term for the first time in history, so he is a good start. There are multiple articles online that touch this subject too. For further information, I defer to middle eastern mods. 

- Asmaa

Racism and Pseudo-Archaeology:

A gigantic, unequivocal and absolute no to all of it, lmao. 

I will stick to the bit about the proposed origin of mehendi in your WIP, it’s the arc I feel I’m qualified to speak on, Asmaa has pretty much touched upon the religious and orientalism complications. 

Let me throw out one more word: pseudoarchaeology. That is, taking the cultural/spiritual/historical legacies of ancient civilizations, primarily when it involves people of colour, and crediting said legacies to be the handiwork of not just your average Outsider/White Saviour but aliens. I’ll need you to think carefully about this: why is it that in so much of media and literature pertaining to the so-called “conspiracy theories” dealing with any kind of extraterrestrial life, it’s always Non-Western civilizations like the Aztec, the ancient Egyptians, the Harappans etc who are targeted? Why is it that the achievements of the non West are so unbelievable that it’s more feasible to construct an idea of non-human, magical beings from another planet who just conveniently swooped in to build our monuments and teach us how to dress and what to believe in? If the answer makes you uncomfortable, it’s because it should: denying the Non-West agency of their own feats is not an innocent exercise in sci-fi worldbuilding, it comes loaded with implications of racial superiority and condescension towards the intellect and prowess of Non-European cultures. 

Now, turning to specifics:

Contrary to what Sarah J. Maas might believe- mehendi designs are neither mundane, purely aesthetic tattoos nor can they be co-opted by random Western fantasy characters. While henna has existed as an art form in various cultures, I’m limiting my answer to the Indian context, (specifying since you mention ancient India). Mehendi is considered one of the tenets of the Solah Shringar- sixteen ceremonial adornments for Hindu brides, one for each phase of the moon, as sanctioned by the Vedic texts. The shade of the mehendi is a signifier for the strength of the matrimonial bond: the darker the former, the stronger the latter. Each of the adornments carries significant cosmological/religious symbolism for Hindus. To put it bluntly, when you claim this to be an invention of the aliens, you are basically taking a very sacred cultural and artistic motif of our religion and going “Well actually….extraterrestrials taught them all this.”

In terms of Ayurveda (Traditional holistic South Asian medicine)  , mehendi was used for its medicinal properties. It works as a cooling agent on the skin and helps to alleviate stress, particularly for the bride-to-be. Not really nice to think that aliens lent us the secrets of Ayurvedic science (pseudoarchaeology all over again). 

I’m just not feeling this arc at all. The closest possible alternative I could see to this is the ancient Indian characters incorporating some specific stylistic motifs in their mehendi in acknowledgement to this entity, in the same vein of characters incorporating motifs of tribute into their armour or house insignia, but even so, I’m not sure how well that would play out. If you do go ahead with this idea, I cannot affirm that it will not receive backlash.

-Mimi

These articles might help:

 Pseudoarchaeology and the Racism Behind Ancient Aliens

A History of Indian Henna (this studies mehendi origins mostly with reference to Mughal history)

Solah Shringar

2) Not Yes, But If Ignoring the Above:

I will be the dissenting voice of “Not No, But Here Are The Big Caveats.” Given that there is no way to make the story you want to tell palatable to certain interpretations of Islam and Christianity, here is my advice if the above arguments did not sufficiently deter you.

1. Admiration ≠ Research: It is not enough to just admire cultures for their richness and beauty. You need to actually do the research and learn about them to determine if the story you want to tell is a good fit for the values and principles these cultures prioritize. You need to understand the significance of historical figures and events to understand the issues with attributing the genesis of certain cultural accomplishments to an otherworldly influence. 1.

2. Give Less Offense When Possible and Think Empathetically: You should try to imagine the mindsets of those you will offend and think about to what degree you can soften or ameliorate certain aspects of your plot, the creature’s characteristics, and the creature’s interactions with historical figures to make your narrative more compatible. There is no point pretending that much of areligious science fiction is incompatible with monotheist, particularly non-henotheistic, religious interpretations as well as the cultural items and rituals derived from those religious interpretations. One can’t take “There is no god, just a lonely alien” and make that compatible with “There is god, and only in this particular circumstance.” Thus:

As stated above by Asmaa and Mimi, there is no escaping the reality the story you propose is offensive to some. Expect their outcry to be directed towards you. Can you tolerate that?

Think about how you would feel if someone made a story where key components of your interpretation of reality are singled out as false. How does this make you feel? Are you comfortable doing that to others?

3. Is Pseudoarchaeology Appropriate Here?: Mimi makes a good point about the racial biases of pseudoarchaeology. Pseudoarchaeology is a particular weakness of Western-centric atheist sci-fi. Your proposed story is the equivalent of a vaguely non-descript Maya/Aztec/Egyptian pyramid or Hindu/ Buddhist-esque statue being the source for a Resident Evil bio weapon/ Predator nest/ Assassin’s Creed Isu relic.

Is this how you wish to draw attention to these cultures you admire? While there is no denying their ubiquity in pop-culture, such plots trivialize broad swathes of non-white history and diminish the accomplishments of associated ethnic groups. The series listed above all lean heavily into these tropes either because the authors couldn’t bother to figure out something more creative or because they are intentionally telling a story the audience isn’t supposed to take seriously.*

More importantly, I detect a lot of sincerity in your ask, so I imagine such trivialization runs counter to your expressed desire to depict Eastern cultures in a positive and accurate manner.

4. Freedom to Write ≠ Freedom from Consequence: Once again, as a reminder, it’s not our job to reassure you as to whether or not what you are proposing is ok. Asmaa and Mimi have put a lot of effort into explaining who you will offend and why.  We are here to provide context, but the person who bears the ultimate responsibility for how you choose to shape this narrative, particularly if you share this story with a wide audience, is you. Speaking as one writer to another, I personally do not have a strong opinion one way or the other, but I think it is important to be face reality head-on.

- Marika.

* This is likely why the AC series always includes that disclaimer stating the games are a product of a multicultural, inter-religious team and why they undermine Western cultures and Western religious interpretations as often (if not moreso) than those for their non-Western counterparts.

Note: Most WWC asks see ~ 5 hours of work from moderators before they go live. Even then, this ask took an unusually long amount of time in terms of research, emotional labor and discussion. If you found this ask (and others) useful, please consider tipping the moderators (link here), Asmaa (coming eventually) and Mimi (here). I also like money - Marika.

[dovand]

what's your favorite star trek episode? any recommendations?

Hi, anon! *waves*

I’m gonna be honest with you: I have seen 3 episodes of this show.

Life has been hectic recently, so I got into the fandom through fic (which I find easier to consume than video). I’ve been watching TOS, but it’s slow going. Thusly (I love that word), I asked around, and here are some other people's recommendations:

“The Naked Time” (TOS S1E4), in which alien space goo makes everyone act drunk. Sulu tries to duel people shirtless. Spock sobs mathematically. Warning for attempted suicide.*

"Amok Time" (TOS S2E1), in which Spock goes into alien heat, cuts a titty window in Kirk's shirt and then wrestles in the sand with him. Y'know, like buddies! So much Spirk. So. Much. Spirk.

"Arena" (TOS S1E18) in which 'a superior alien race brings Captain Kirk in mortal combat against the reptilian captain of an alien ship he was pursuing.' ∆

"A Taste of Armageddon" (TOS S1E23), in which 'Kirk and Spock must save their ship's crew when they are declared all killed in action in a bizarre computer simulated war where the actual deaths must occur to continue.' ∆

"The City on the Edge of Forever" (TOS S1E28), in which 'a temporarily insane Dr. McCoy accidentally changes history and destroys his time, Kirk and Spock follow him to prevent the disaster, but the price to do so is high.' ∆ Also, Spock has a beanie!

"Mirror Mirror" (TOS S2E4), in which there are AU shenanigans. Also, Spock has a goatee.

"I, Mudd" (TOS S2E8), featuring 'the gregarious Harry Mudd, hundreds of duplicate androids, and a nice plot that involves our Enterprise crew – forced off their ship by the androids and held hostage on a planet – overloading a giant hive mind with illogic in order to free themselves.' (summary via startrek.com) Also, a Spock Gay Moment.

"The Trouble With Tribbles" (TOS S2E15), in which there are Creatures. They are small and fluffy and endlessly multiplying.

"Spock's Brain" (S3E1), in which 'the crew of the Enterprise pursues a mysterious woman who has abducted Spock's brain.' Has Spirk moments! Apparently includes this, as well:

"Spectre of the Gun" (TOS S3E6), in which 'the Melkot condemn Capt. Kirk and his landing party to the losing side of a surreal recreation of the 1881 historic gunfight at the OK Corral.' ∆

"Let That Be Your Last Battlefield" (TOS S3E15), 'the one with the infamous image of the two aliens, both whose faces are have black and half white, but because the colors are on opposite sides they hate each other'. (summary via a friend—thanks, Fox!)

You may notice this is mostly The Original Series—I asked in a TOS-centric server, which likely skewed the results. Sorry, anon! They seem to have also seen Deep Space Nine, but said, 'DS9 is hard, as it's much less episodic in nature and more stories are linked in larger arcs'. However, they have recommended these: "Trials and Tribble-ations", "Our Man Bashir", "Q-less", "Profit and Loss", "Through the Looking Glass", "The Die is Cast", "Doctor Bashir, I Presume?", "In the Pale Moonlight", "Take Me Out to the Holosuite", "Rejoined" (Dax kisses a woman!), and "If Wishes Were Horses" (Rumpelstiltskin is there, I guess? This sure is a show!).

*I have tried to include warnings where possible, but by virtue of not having seen these episodes, I don't know exactly what they each contain. I may have missed things.

∆ Summary via IMDb

I hope this list is satisfactory, anon! Enjoy your Trekking. LLAP <3

[nicanario]

this post is a product of its time

tw: discussion of racism, homophobia, misogyny and a short mention of sexual abuse.

ok, this is basically gonna be a very long rambling post about my not fully developed thoughts on the justification many people give to bigotry when talking about the past: "it was a product of its time"

it would be fair to say, with me being a raging SJW socialist scumbag, that I don't think this is a very good argument and is most of the time actually an excuse to not think about the problems inherent to our society, historical or not, and, by extension, the problems with ourselves. but I do think that sometimes, just sometimes, this can be a valid point, or at least one that raises some interesting questions.

I'm going to cite examples from several pieces of media, but fear not, I'll try to make this as accesible as I can.

so, let's take Star Trek: The Original Series (TOS) as our first case study. this show has, correctly, been called progressive by everyone except for clueless people who don't know much about Star Trek's history, Star Trek's crew, Star Trek's cast, or, frankly, Star Trek. because if you ignore the clear, sometimes in-your-face political history and present of the franchise, I don't think you know much about it at all. I do think you can call yourself a fan if you like it, you may have watched every single episode for all I know. but lots of mental gymnastics are needed to ignore the political progressiveness Star Trek has had since its very beginning.

episodes like Let That Be Your Last Battlefield are obviously anti-racist, at least in their intention. but the episode in question really is "a product of its time," and at the very end fails to uphold its ideals. the episode ends with the two aliens (who are LITERALLY. BLACK ON ONE SIDE. AND WHITE ON THE OTHER. BUT IN THE OPPOSITE SIDES.) fighting each other on their devastated planet, and the crew is like, "oh yeah if they both would give up on their hatred that they both share both of them equally" when it has been firmly established that one is the oppressor and the other one is the oppressed.

and that's a lot of Star Trek, not just TOS. even Discovery, one of the most recent series, has done Bury Your Gays (and Trans) TWICE (though both times literally rectified it, which is cool). there are episodes of the franchise that are overtly racist, or misogynistic, etc. TOS is lauded, mostly justifiably, as very progressive, especially for the standards of the time. they put a woman of colour as one of the senior staff, for fuck's sake. of course, when you analyse that same character, as with most of their intentions at being progressive, you'll see that she was relegated and sometimes even outright mistreated when she had the potential to be much more. but, at that time, it was a lot.

I had a friend (emphasis on "had") who, after I told him about TOS's both progressiveness and constant misogyny, told me something like "imagine feminists trying to complain about a show from the 60s." so, with unearned spite, he was, in some way, trying to make the argument that it was a product of its time.

you could say Star Trek, all of Star Trek, is "a product of its time" in the sense that it's not always perfect. uh, yes, I would agree. but that doesn't mean people have to accept it. well, I mean, the show is kinda over, you have to accept it's that way. but you don't have to accept that it's not wrong just because it was a product of its time.

H. P. Lovecraft, as another example, was a greatly influential writer whose works still shape a lot of people's ideas to this day. I have only ever read like one of his stories, so don't expect me to have an opinion on his works. but I can have an opinion on what I know about him as a person (he did have a life outside his writing, after all). and, yeah, he was a huge asshole. if you want to know more in depth about the subject, please watch Hbomberguy's video on him: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8u8wZ0WvxI

but basically, he was incredibly racist & homophobic. some people might even say, "he was a product of his time." well, there are two possible rebuttals to that. the surface level one, and the one that examines why that argument is wrong to the core.

The Surface Level Response to "it was a product of its time": um, no it wasn't. Lovecraft was more racist than a lot of people even in his time. he wasn't just a guy who carried the racist beliefs of his society like everyone else, he was a reactionary who actively thought and discussed how racist he was, and how right he was for being that way. but that's only applicable to Lovecraft. one can't argue the same for Star Trek: TOS, because TOS did try to be more progressive and more anti-racist than the rest of its society. that leads us to the next response.

The Response that Actually Deals with the Fact that No Matter How Progressive You're Trying to Be, Your Failings Can Still be Criticized: the thing is, trying to excuse Lovecraft's or Star Trek's bigotry because they were "products of their times" misses the fact that racism is still wrong, and some people knew that in those times as well. people from these times weren't all naive or stupid or whatever. they had the capacity for rational thinking. they could stop and think, "hey, maybe what we're doing is wrong." and the fact is, some people did. not perfectly, not to our standars, but they did. everyone could have stopped and think. but most of them didn't, and we can criticize them for it. racism, homophobia, sexism, etc. HURT PEOPLE. horribly. massively.

also, even if you agree with the "it's a product of its time" argument, some people aren't criticising people's or work's bigotry: they're explaining why they don't want to experience it.

The Talons of Weng-Chiang is a 1977 Doctor Who serial, and it's one of the show's more racist stories. almost all the villains are Chinese, every single Chinese person is a villain. there's yellowface, slurs, stereotypes, the Doctor speaking nonsense words instead of actual Chinese, and a general belittling of Chinese culture.

note that I'm neither Chinese nor of Chinese descent. I have been searching for hours for a few posts I've read a while ago (some by people who are of Asian descent) about this episode and I can't find them. sorry.

suffice it to say, even though I love Jago & Litefoot (the audio series and the characters), it's not an acceptable episode at all. but it's also important to remark that, because of it, some people aren't going to want to watch it. sometimes, people aren't saying "the episode shouldn't be this way," which causes others to answer that it was "a product of its time." sometimes, people are just saying, "this is an episode that attacks real people. I don't want to see it. I don't care if it was common in that era to be racist, i don't want to experience it."

however, there is an interesting point to the "it's a product of its time" argument. after all, everything is influenced by its society, for better or worse. and we can't change it anymore. TOS sometimes didn't quite understand the political themes it wanted to explore. Lovecraft was a horrible bigot. Talons was racist towards Chinese folks. and that's that. I don't think we should change the episodes/stories or anything. edit them in any way. that would be, in a sense, changing history. and we wouldn't learn anything from it, about how we can do better.

I think there are two solutions to this:

1. warnings before starting the text: this was done with The Talons of Weng-Chiang. on Britbox, where you can watch Classic Who, this serial has a content warning before the start. that's good.

2. the removal as a whole of the text from some places: I think before applying this one, there should be a lot of thought put into each case. I don't think removing a whole serial of Doctor Who or Lovecraft's stories from anything would be, well, fair. especially on tv episodes a lot more people worked on those, not just the writers and the directors. Lovecraft's writing influenced thousands. we shouldn't erase them or anything. but sometimes, for some cases, we should.

those in the US might seen a Confederate statue being taken down. that is, in a way, a form of removal of a piece of history.

but that is a good removal. statues glorify. one sees a statue and probably thinks "this was a person worthy of admiration." they should be taken down, maybe even with a permanent mark of why this was done (a plaque that reads "a statue of X was here, but he didn't deserve it because of Y" could be put in place of the statues, for example).

another example is the removal from DVDs of the short episode A Fix with Sontarans, a Sixth Doctor minisode that featured Jimmy Savile, a presenter who was later found out to be sexually abusing children.

the removal of that minisode is good, actually. it's not a full episode (it's not even Doctor Who). some might say that's "erasing history" but, like, you can still find it online or information about it if you want. this minisode deserves removal from DVDs and Blu-Rays and whatever more than content warnings. it's not an important part of the show and it prominently features a horrible person who did horrible things during that time.

so, after all that, I have explained why I don't like the "it's a product of its time" argument. it is an interesting point that deserves to be examined, but it's not very good.

I have had this in Drafts for so long I've probably forgot some of the points I was going to make, but eh, what can you do? hope you enjoyed reading this.

bye

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 4]

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

@we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy’s lovecraftian horror AU, with a bit of my own twist on the origin story. Emotional hurt/comfort. Body horror. Hugging your body-horror monster boyfriend. 

3,386 words

Once upon a time, there lived a man who had everything: great wealth (built on the backs of exploited workers), a grand estate, a beautiful wife, and many mistresses waiting in the wings. Yet after years of trying, he failed to produce an heir. Determined that his money could buy anything, the man scoured the world, searching for a solution. One day, his extensive resources brought him to an ancient castle in Lithuania, where the last descendants of a noble bloodline offered him a devil’s bargain—a book, a summoning ritual. He did not ask questions. His wife was finally with child.

The Chilton legacy was secure.

The moment Frederick was born, the life was sucked from his mother—a human sacrifice for his soul crossing into this world. That was what his father told him, at least. Frederick had no memory of clawing his way through the veil between worlds, of being anything other than an ordinary child with a distant father, a young, blonde stepmother, and nannies instead of friends. Until the changes began. Allison (or was it Kayla at the time?) fainted in the living room when he staggered in, screaming as smoke boiled from his skin, begging for help. His father only wrinkled his nose with disgust and calmly explained what he was.

“You must learn to hide this, Frederick. Never let anyone see you this way, or it will destroy the family name.”

And so, he learned the transformation’s schedule. Prepared for it. Knew how to hide it away and never let anyone get close enough to see the real him. But it wasn’t good enough. Try as he might, nothing Frederick ever did met his father’s expectations for the perfect son he had gone through so much trouble to produce.

Frederick grew into a bitter and lonely man with no one to care about, or who cared about him. He kept the world at a distance, hiding his shame behind expensive suits and lavish decoration.

Never once did he consider that he was not alone in this world at all.

 ***

I see him as one of those pitiful things sometimes born in hospitals. They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines. They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal. Nobody can tell what he is.

This is how Will Graham describes the Chesapeake Ripper.

Every therapy session with Graham, every conversation overhead, the puzzle became clearer. At first, Chilton merely believed that Dr. Lecter was guilty of unethical practices—manipulating Mr. Graham in the same way he had manipulated Gideon. He felt such kinship with Hannibal. Learning a bit of dirt on him brought the ever-so-superior doctor down to his level, gave him something to lord over him—a little implied blackmail to strengthen their friendship.

They both had secrets to hide.

Dr. Chilton never would have guessed the final puzzle piece to convince him fully that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper would be the one everyone else laughed at.

“I brought you here to bear witness,” Graham said to Gideon through their adjoining cells.

“To tell Jack Crawford that I sat in Hannibal Lecter’s cobalt blue dining room? An ostentatious herb garden, Leda and the Swan over the fireplace. And you, having a fit in the corner.”

Chilton perked up and quickly shared the audio feed to one of the junior therapists assisting him. You were reliable at editing his audio files, clipping and exporting segments he wanted to keep, but he was avoiding you at the moment. This was proof—irrefutable proof that Gideon had met Hannibal Lecter the night he went searching for the Ripper.

After his conversation with Graham concluded, an assistant was sent down to coax more information from him while Chilton’s research team listened in, keenly taking notes.

Gideon was not finished dropping bombshells.

With a casual lilt to his voice as if talking to a friend over dinner, he began to describe the Chesapeake Ripper. Skin like volcanic ash, reflecting no light. A red glow to his eyes. Black claws as long as steak knives. Antlers breaking through the inside of his skull, punching through the skin. All black as night—a form that shifted in the shadows, ever tricking the eye, unwilling to be known.

He’s the Devil, Mr. Graham. He’s smoke.

“Great. Gideon is delusional,” one therapist snorted. “On the bright side, this completely undercuts his malpractice case against you.” She patted Chilton’s shoulder. Chilton flinched.

“We should start him on antipsychotics. What do you think? Doctor?”

Chilton’s face turned ashen white. “Y-yes, certainly,” he muttered, staggering to his feet.

He moved for the door, but crumbled halfway there, pain ripping through his leg as sharp thorns grew beneath the skin. It was daylight. No. No! The transformation should not be starting for hours—he had plenty of time! He gasped out as another shock tore through him, barely containing a cry. His body convulsed.

“Doctor!” A therapist and a guard rushed in to help him to his feet. “Where does it hurt? If this is a complication from your surgery, we need to get you into intensive care right away.”

“No,” he brushed them off. “Only… psychosomatic. I need to— ah!” He gritted his teeth, mind racing to the one person he did not want to turn to, but the only one he could, and barked, “Get my secretary!”

 ***

Smoke was rising off of his burning skin by the time you rushed into Chilton’s vacated office. His eyes were wide with panic, but greeted you when you entered with—not relief, perhaps, because he was every bit as terrified as before, but with the anticipation of being rescued. His eyes pleaded.

“H-help. I cannot make it stop.”

You managed to get him into your car. The sun’s orange rays seemed to chase the beast away, clearing his skin and stopping his wracking convulsions long enough to cross the employee parking lot without drawing stares. He insisted on taking the back seat so he could hide—and to put more distance between you in case he lost control.

His chest rose and fell like a rabbit in a cat’s mouth.

“The way he described Dr. Lecter—anyone would think it was a metaphor! That he was crazy!” Chilton’s breath was raspy as you drove, glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. He kept trembling, small patches of scaly skin appearing at random then swirling back inside. One pupil was a pinprick. His tongue occasionally became serpentine and got in the way as he frantically spoke. “But it was too specific, the details. Familiar. I always knew there was a connection between Dr. Lecter and me—a reason we were friends. It all makes sense now!”

“Hey, it’s OK,” you said, trying to sound soothing, though you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Don’t you understand? Lecter is like me!”

“That’s good, isn’t it? That means you’re not alone.”

“Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!” he shouted, and a spine tore through a seat cushion. “A cannibal, if Will Graham is to be believed, and loathe as I am to admit it, Graham is an excellent profiler. If the Ripper and I are the same… then that means I—”

“You are nothing like that!” Forgetting the damage his demonic tantrum was doing to your faux-leather interior, you had faith in him. He was a little withdrawn and more than a little vain, and it had garnered him an icy reputation around the hospital, but now you understood why. He wasn’t evil or malicious. He was frightened.

“God help me,” he murmured.

 ***

As soon as the garage door closed behind you, he scrambled from the car (scratching the handle), and retreated inside. He didn’t invite you to follow him home. But he didn’t forbid it, either, and you wanted to be there. All you had were panic-scrambled memories from the first time that made his transformation worse in hindsight than it was. Or maybe better. You didn’t know, and you wouldn’t know until you saw it again with clear eyes.

The electric kettle rumbled on its stand, hissing steam as you searched through Frederick Chilton’s surprisingly extensive tea collection for something herbal and soothing. Chamomile, you thought. With honey. Surely that must be good for demon-monster-werewolf things?

The sun was about to set and he was still reeling over Hannibal, and just as much from the premature transformation the revelation had triggered. And every time he cried, “This is not possible. How can this be possible?” the next convulsion was more intense.

He would probably just burn himself on tea.

A painful whimper came from somewhere in the house, and you followed it to a tiny panic room that opened behind a bookshelf. It was only about seven by nine feet with concrete walls and floors, bare except for deep scratches of varying age, like an animal trying to escape. The few chairs inside were metal. Difficult to break. Frederick faced away from you, staring at a hand that was too large for the rest of his body, capped with long black claws.

“Oh no, this will not do at all,” you tutted, shaking your head at the barren space. “How about I bring in some blankets? Let’s get you comfortable.”

His whole body shook. “You should go.”

“No. No way, not after seeing this prison cell. I am not leaving you like this.”

“I do not want to hurt you.” His shoulder jerked. A spike tore through his shirt.

“You won’t.”

“Seeing it again… will not be therapeutic for you,” he hissed, another spike breaking through. “Go before it is too late.”

“No!”

“Damn it! I am a monster—there is proof of that now! The FBI has no idea what it is dealing with!” Chilton began to pace the small cell, thoughts racing, features morphing into something grotesque and alien. “Does Hannibal know about me? Can he sense it? Is that why he confided in me? I always thought it was professional respect—hah! God, what if he…” A painful convulsion halted his pacing and brought him to one knee, gripping his side. His attention snapped back to you. “This is… dangerous,” he warned, then hacked violently. Fleshy, snake-like projections spewed from his mouth, and he quickly turned away again, hiding his face. “You should… you should be nowhere near all of this! You should not be here! Why did I let you inside?!”

A roar of anguish ripped through the air with enough force to push you back through the panic room door, just in time to avoid being impaled on half a dozen spines as they shot from Chilton’s body like lances. Chips of concrete clattered to the ground as they penetrated the walls. He screamed again, writhing to get free, but found himself trapped by his own violent transformation. Like an animal, he struggled and clawed at himself as if his rational mind had been overtaken by raw, volatile emotion.

“Take it easy. You’re going to hurt yourself,” you tried to calm him, but you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking.

This was worse than last time. You were sure his spines weren’t half as long when you saw him in his office—even Chilton seemed surprised to be pinned.

You lifted your hands, palms toward him in a steadying gesture, and took a step back into the concrete room.

“Stay back!” he howled, thrashing. “Get away!”

It was tempting. Every muscle in your body wanted to follow his advice and run far away from the indescribable horror before you. But his eyes were still green. Were still terrified. And you had an inkling of why it was worse this time. Maybe he would hate you later for imposing, but it seemed more important right now not to leave him feeling… like a monster.

“It’s OK.” You took another step closer.

“No!”

“You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you. Shh, shh… I’m not afraid, see?”

Rigid spines sprayed from his back and shoulders in a 180-degree arc, leaving only his front accessible. You ducked under one and followed its trajectory to where it met the wall. It wasn’t just pinned by pressure—it had struck the wall with enough force to dig into it like an iron rod. Sawing through might be the only option for getting him unstuck. You wondered if that would hurt. Were there nerves in his spines? You stepped over the next one as you drew nearer.

“You should be afraid! I am just like him!” Chilton tried to turn his head away as you traversed his network of thorns and stood in front of him.

His face was almost entirely inhuman. Tentacles cascaded down from where a nose should have been, and when he opened his mouth in a snarl, they parted like wriggling eels—each with a life of its own—to reveal a jaw that split his face open vertically, crowded with rows of sharp white teeth. The more agitated Chilton became, the more dramatic the effect. Each time he spoke, you caught a flash of teeth that sent shivers racing down your spine. But you continued to move closer anyway, within snapping range.

“Hannibal and I… we are the same. Please—I do not want to become him. Do not let me hurt you!”

“You are not the same. You’re not a killer.”

Chilton let out a choking cry that was all too human. “I killed that nurse,” he said. Concrete groaned as his spines grew longer. A crooked horn sprouted from his head. “I killed Elizabeth Shell.”

“You… you didn’t kill her.”

His breath quickened again. Tentacles sprouted and died and resprouted from his face in a constant fevered motion. “I knew Gideon would kill! I lowered security! I knew what would happen—what I needed to happen to prove that he was the Ripper! I may as well have plucked her eyes out with my own hands and… and feasted on her organs. God… I am the Ripper,” he wailed.

“No…” It never occurred to you that Dr. Chilton would have done such a thing knowingly. Maybe there was something dark inside him that this creature was reflecting. It hurt to acknowledge, and yet maybe you both needed to. “You made a mistake. You did a bad thing, but… Gideon was already a killer. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I drove him to it, manipulated him… I am just as responsible as he is. I am a monster.”

“A monster wouldn’t feel this guilty! You made a mistake, but you won’t make it again, will you?”

Tentacles and spines stopped sprouting. His form stabilized as his wet eyes looked off thoughtfully. He seemed so pathetic… so innocent, almost. Despite the intimating spines and claws that added danger and height to his appearance, his body had the same mass—leaving his frame gaunt and frail, with ribs sticking out prominently. Hollow.

You wanted to protect him.

You knew that was your job at BSHCI. You knew that was why Dr. Chilton suddenly needed a personal secretary when he never had before. Someone to sit outside his door, take his calls, and warn him when visitors wanted to see him. You’d never met the doctor before he was attacked by one of his patients, but you recognized the signs of trauma—the way he flinched easily, avoided contact at first, then the way he clung to you when you earned his trust. The awkward little smiles. The way his cheeks turned bright red when his fingers brushed yours as you delivered his coffee. You couldn’t help feeling protective. Falling in love, even.

Though it was closed for the moment, his mouth was a dangerous black hole with alien arms ready to pull prey inside. It seemed impossible to get close without being dragged into its teeth by instinct. You couldn’t imagine putting your face anywhere near it.

Another step, and your forehead touched his.

“I... I do not want to hurt you,” he pleaded.

“You won’t.”

You leaned into his arms, a hand reaching up to stroke the side of his face. It was covered in fine scales that glistened as if they should be slimy, but were smooth to the touch, like a snake. Sharper thorns sprouting from his skin seemed to retreat before your caress.

He trembled with inner turmoil, hot breath puffing against your chin. Your eyes darted toward the motion of one of his claws rising behind you, and all you could focus on were the way each sharp talon caught the light. You couldn’t be sure what he was thinking—if he was going to return your embrace, or prove to you that he was a monster. Would he slash you just to drive you away?

“I smell your fear,” his voice hissed accusingly.

For some reason, of all the reactions you could have had, you started to laugh. It was nervous and tight at first, but then building in confidence at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“You’ve got giant claws! Of course I’m afraid! But I’m not running, am I?”

You slid your hand from his cheek and trailed it over his bony neck and the ridges and spines of his shoulders, finding a path for your arms to twine around him. Cuddling closer, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hardly bothered by the writhing tentacles that draped down over you.

“I know you would never hurt me. You’re just going to have to keep showing me there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Shuddering, he breathed in your scent. All his senses were heightened by this form, and he was surrounded by you—your pheromones, your electric field, the radiant heat of your skin. It was like sinking into a warm bath with a glass of fine wine in his hand. He opened his palm and let his predator’s hand sweep harmlessly down your back, holding you close. He could sense the fluttering of your heart in his embrace. It was slower than a creature in terror—slowing the longer he held you. You were not afraid. And he could not imagine hurting you. Whatever he had been worried might happen, whatever awful things he might be capable of, he could never imagine hurting you. You were right. You didn’t have anything to fear.

He exhaled a long, steady breath of surrender. The long spines retracted, pulling out of the walls as they returned to their usual size. He could move again, but didn’t. Not for a long time.

“It’s OK. It’s OK,” you sighed. The scent of your hair was intoxicating.

Eventually, you had to part. Chilton’s eyes darted away as you did—the inky scales on his face emitted a soft bluish starlight, which you were certain was blushing. You could not coax him to leave his concrete prison cell, but he told you where to find some blankets he could live with damaging—linen closet, second floor, third door on the right—and let you make a cozy nest on the bare floors. You made tea, and only cringed a little at his attempts to drink it. It was late, then. You were sleepy, and he was exhausted. Emotionally drained. His mind still raced over everything, still not certain of your presence and inexplicable kindness. You sat in the pile of blankets and had him rest his head in your lap.

“Give me your hand,” you asked, extending yours.

A clawed, scaly hand slid tentatively along the floor. You took it. Held it gently, first observing the long talons protruding like daggers from each finger before slotting yours between them—nothing sharp there. You let out a long sigh and leaned back against the concrete wall. His breath hitched.

He’d never had his hand held in this form, you assumed.

He’d never had his hand held at all, in fact. Not in many years.

It had to be a trap, he thought. No one had ever loved him before. No one could—not like this. Yet, as he fell asleep to your fingers massaging his temple and the soft murmuring of your voice, he let himself believe it. You were always there, protecting him. Smiling at him in the morning.

When you woke up, Frederick was human again, still fast asleep in your arms.

[coramatus]

Subway Boss Emmet vs. the Multiverse, part iii

More self-indulgent nonsense featuring Subway Boss Emmet arguing with OC, Kathy of the Ten-Thousand Shades, about why she needs to take him on an inter-dimensional adventure. Kathy has doubts.

—————————

It was an easy going night for Kathy and her four charges after a long day of universe hopping. On an alien world, with its sky lit by an entire planet and some moons, they’d made a campfire, where marshmallows were roasted, s’mores assembled, and crumbs thrown at each other as they exchanged increasingly terrible jokes.

Just as Kathy laughed at one of their complaints, something cut that short as she stopped, looking around in confusion. She stood, causing the kids to quiet down as they watched her curiously.

“Does anyone else hear one of those ancient Nokia ringtones?” Kathy asked, bewildered.

The kids blinked at her before all four slowly shook their heads.

“Ok. Well. ‘Scuse me, I guess that’s for me then,” Kathy said with a puzzled smile. That smile turned into an annoyed scowl as she turned to walk to the outer edges of the camp. Deciding she had no better option, she held up her hand to her face with thumb and pinky extended like it was a phone. Her hand flared with bands of green light as she drew on one of her many powers and barked,

“Hello? Who’s calling??”

“Hello?? Hello!” came a genial, if slightly monotone, male voice, “I am Emmet! I am a Subway Boss of—!”

“Stop, stop, I’m sorry, but stop for a sec,” she cut in sourly, glaring into the distance in frustration, “How are you doing this??”

There was an uncertain pause from the other side.

“How am I doing what?”

“Talking to me!”

“I’m signaling you with a ouija board!” the man answered without missing a beat.

Kathy took a moment to consider this.

“…a ouija board.”

“And I have a ghost Pokémon channeling this conversation!” the man added helpfully.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, “That doesn't explain anything, but whatever. Next question and this is an important one, so think hard: WHY are you doing this??”

“I am requesting a ticket to board your services to parts unknown!”

“‘Ticket’-?” Kathy echoed, now hopelessly lost. That did it. She was going to the root of this new problem. “Ugh, take a step back, mister,” she warned, “I’m coming over.”

“Copy that!” he said, as if what she’d just said wasn’t completely insane.

Kathy held her hand-phone away from her face to take a deep breath and steady herself. When she turned back to the kids, she was wearing a cheerful smile and waved at them,

“I gotta do a thing! I’ll be back in a sec, guys!”

“You always say that,” Rhys groused, his muzzle full of marshmallow, “Last time took you a friggin’ day.”

“Quiet, you,” Kathy retorted without heat. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

The others just snickered.

He stuck his tongue out at them.

Turning back to the task at hand, Kathy uncurled her fingers of her impromptu phone, still dancing with green Communication light, and reached out to take hold of the invisible, tenuous threads connecting the two points in space and time that she and her newest problem currently occupied. With another one of her abilities already holding things in place, she Connected to it, disappearing in a burst of rainbow light.

The route was solid and she arrived instantaneously in a great flare of rainbow fire. As the light show faded, she looked around to find herself in a dimly lit cement tunnel with trash scattered about. Movement in front of her made her look down to find a man dressed in a white coat and hat sitting cross-legged before her, his eyes wide with a wider smile stretching across his face.

He looked positively delighted.

Kathy shifted and looked down at her feet. She was standing on a slightly sticky ouija board.

“Huh, you weren’t kidding about that…” she muttered, stepping off it with her eyebrows raised. Then her brows furrowed as she bent over to pick up something on the printed board, holding up the multi-colored candy in confusion. “And… gummy worms? Is this supposed to be like an offering or…?”

“That was my breakfast,” the man explained with a bland smile. That smile turned up a little more as he hurried to his feet, shouldering a travel bag as he walked towards her expectantly, “Are we departing this station now?”

“Woah, hey, hang on there, cowboy,” Kathy said, holding up a hand and halting him in his tracks. She fixed a stern glare on him, “I need answers first.”

The still-there smile stiffened, looking a bit more like a grimace as he spoke in a tone brokering no argument, “Schedule delays are unacceptable. I must—”

Kathy held up a finger, cutting him off, “My dude. I’m not taking some rando I just—!”

“I am Emmet!” he piped up with an eager smile, as if that solved that particular problem.

Kathy stared at him long and hard before closing her eyes and sighing.

“……hi, Emmet. I’m Kathy.”

“Hello, Kathy!” Emmet said blithely. He was utterly undaunted as he continued, “Our tracks have crossed before! You were the conductor of some children and some odd Pokémon!”

“They’re not actually— ugh, nevermind.”

“As for why: I signaled you for your capabilities! Station security cameras recorded you making a hole in space and time some number of years ago.” She bit back a laugh at seeing his smile take on a peeved edge, “You caused many schedule changes! The station shut down for two days for the police to investigate. I was verrry bored!”

Kathy rolled her eyes with a huff, though not directed at Emmet. “…I always forget about the cameras,” She then crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him, “Alright, you got me. What’s this about?”

She was not expecting to see the way Emmet straightened, his polite if slightly befuddled smile falling away to something far more intense, more purposeful.

“I require your assistance,” he said with monotone gravity. His eyes very fleetingly met hers, but that split second of deliberate eye contact told her quite a bit. “I must find my brother. His name is Ingo. He has been missing for five years.”

A part of Kathy twinged in sympathy, an old ache for her long-dead sibling flaring up again. She felt for him. But a sob story wasn’t enough to move her. Not when there had to be an easier explanation.

“And what makes you so sure that inter-dimensional travel is the answer and not that your bro’s just like… out on a boat somewhere?” she tossed out experimentally.

“He wouldn’t do that!” Emmet snapped, his smile shifting into a baring of teeth. He averted his eyes, a hint of sorrow creeping into his dull words. “I know him! He wouldn’t disappear… with no warning, nothing…” Emmet took a breath before suddenly smiling and pointing dramatically at her, one arm fully extended pointing at her face, the other arm held out behind him pointing downwards. In a burst of hopeful energy, his eyes gleamed as he said, “But I have proof of inter-dimensional travel! Strange energy signatures were found where Ingo was last seen. Signatures similar to wormholes and rifts! Like what you left behind! That’s how I found you. I had Chandelure trace you!”

Kathy blinked as he shifted to point somewhere behind her and she turned around. Sure enough a Chandelure had been floating there the whole time, quietly picking up trash.

“‘Sup,” Kathy nodded at them.

They waved back a greeting with a squeak of their metal arm and went back to cleaning up the littered tunnel.

“Well, I have zero clue how that works, but that’s not what I’m interested in.” Kathy stalked up to him, making him lower his pose, “You’re pretty ballsy to call me up out of nowhere. But for where I go, that’s not enough. I wind up in some weird and scary places and a lot of them can and will result in you being killed or scarred for life. That’s just a hard fact.”

Emmet looked up at her with excitement, “If you want to test me, then we can have a Pokémon battle to prove myself!”

“What??” Kathy said, taken aback, “No.”

That seemed to throw Emmet for a loop, his eyes widening in shock, smile faltering. She may as well have just slapped him in the face. He opened his mouth soundlessly a few times before managing to ask,

“Why not??”

“I don’t have any! They’re not a normal thing for me to carry around!” Kathy threw her hands up, shrugging helplessly, “Sorry!”

“But you have that grass/normal-type and that weird Zorua…” Emmet pointed out, though now he seemed a bit uncertain.

“Those are kids I am taking care of! And they’re not Pokemon, they only look like it sometimes,” she explained tersely. Sighing, she reined herself back to fix with him a stern look, “Besides, this isn’t about Pokémon, this is about you and what you can handle, physically, mentally, and emotionally.”

“I can handle myself efficiently. I signaled you after all!” Emmet countered. “You were verrry hard to flag down. It took me twenty-three days, fifteen hours, and twelve minutes, but the message got through!”

Kathy blinked in surprise.

“…twenty-three days straight or spread out over twenty-three days?”

For the first time in this whole meeting, Emmet’s smile shrank into a much more sheepish one.

“…the answer is somewhere between those tracks.”

In the dim lighting, Kathy narrowed her eyes and pulled on a bit of Insight to get a better look at the man before her. With a crystal clear view, she could see that Emmet was… not looking so hot. He had dark circles lining his eyes, a few days worth of face scruff hiding under his messy sideburns, his hair was overgrown and greasy, his clothes rumpled and stained, and there was a tremor in his hands that she could easily spot from where she was standing.

“Fuck, you look like a trainwreck,” Kathy puffed out in a concerned breath. It didn’t escape her attention that Emmet’s smile flatlined at hearing this. She pressed on, “OK, let’s say I take you on board. Do you have any idea what kind of a ride you’re getting yourself into?”

“Does it matter?” Emmet asked, barely smiling.

“I’m just saying you might have some unrealistic expectations here,” she said point blank. “Because honestly? I cannot promise you I’ll get you from point A to point B quickly or painlessly. I’m basically throwing darts at a map and hoping they’ll land on survivable destinations! My only promise is that. Shit. Will. Get. Crazy! And there will be SO MUCH TRAUMA!”

“I don’t care,” Emmet answered, his voice rising, smiling grimly. “Your safety checks are appreciated, but I am willing to give everything to get Ingo back.”

Those were always troubling words in Kathy’s line of work. She hated having to do this but she had to pull the responsibility card now or never. Careful to project her movements, she reached out and gently held him by the shoulder as she searched his face,

“Emmet, be honest. Would Ingo want you flinging yourself into questionable holes in reality just to find him?”

For his part, he barely flinched at her touch, though he still had difficulty meeting her gaze. He looked as if he already knew the answer but didn’t like it.

“…no,” he breathed out reluctantly. But Emmet gritted his teeth and met her stare full-on with his silvery-gray eyes, “But he is not here to pull my brakes.”

Kathy blinked before groaning, leaning back as she rubbed at her face, “Christ, you’re just like me at your age…”

“The route is set!” Emmet insisted, glaring despite his smile. “This train cannot be stopped now that it has been set into motion!”

Kathy just planted her face in her palm and shook her head, sighing deeply.

This could very well be a colossal mistake on both their parts.

She could tell that this man was going to stop at nothing to find his brother. If she rejected him, he would likely keep trying in increasingly absurd and dangerous ways until he got what he wanted or died in the process or worse. It was well within her power to guide him in a safer — if random — way, with back-up in case things went south.

But she had priorities that came before him.

The kids came first.

She doubted Emmet would ever harm them but they had insights she didn’t. If they didn’t feel safe with him then he wasn’t coming along, simple as that.

Yet, the thought of having to give them the power of potentially deciding a man’s fate was an awful one. It wasn’t a responsibility she wanted to foist upon them. However, she trusted their judgement about their own well-being.

“Alright, fine,” Kathy breathed as she leaned back. “You passed step one.”

For a moment, Emmet's smile grew until her words caught up to his brain. Then he paused in faint confusion, “What is step two?”

“The kids I’m watching need to be OK with you,” she informed him. “If they won’t have you, then you’re out. I’m sorry, but I’ll try to help in some other way.”

Surprisingly, Emmet didn’t even blink. Instead, he seemed to regard her with a little more… respect? Squaring up his shoulders, he nodded sharply. His eyes wouldn’t quite meet hers but they were set with an unmistakable determination as he did his dramatic pointing pose, “Safety checks are verrry important! First stop! Passenger screening! Follow the rules! Drive safely! Everybody smile! All aboard!”

Kathy tilted her head at him.

“…this is just a thing for you, huh?”

“I am Emmet!” he declared, “What I say. What I do. Always the same!”