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huramuna · 3 months

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banshee's lament - chapter 1.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a former ward of alicent hightower and aemond's childhood companion, shera stark, returns to king's landing after ten years. ten years after the incident at driftmark that left her and aemond permanently disfigured. after so many years apart, shera and aemond are almost strangers. almost.

a/n: i posted the first two chapters of this story before, but they're being reworked -- so just poof what you know about them out of your mind when reading it now and think of it as a clean slate.

wordcount: 3k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage

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The wind had finally died down that day, the trees somewhat still over the horizon. Their branches still wobbled with some errant breeze, whistling through the wood like a song.

The window was pushed outward, the crisp air crossing paths with the smell of smoke, whirling and mingling like lost friends. A small fireplace was warming the room as the lady perched on her windowsill, dark copper curls hanging around her like tendrils. Shera took in a deep breath of air— it was crisp and refreshing, pushing away the errant effects of sleepiness.

Her skin prickled in goosebumps beneath her nightgown as she turned to her bed. A large black mass was snoozing softly still, taking up the majority of the mattress. Slinking over, she snuggled herself close to the giant canine, blowing softly on his muzzle to wake him. Large amber eyes met brown and milky blue, pupils dilating and constricting in tandem, before the wolf let out a sleepy chuff.

“Wake up, my love,” Shera whispered, fingers digging into his shaggy mane as she scratched just the right spot. “Moongeist, we must start the day.” she hummed.

The direwolf rolled over onto his back, belly exposed to the chilled air. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, one leg kicking as his companion got the one itch just out of reach of his own claws.

“Oh, you’re a ham,” Shera mumbled into his fur, peppering him with kisses. “You’re no wolf, you’re a honey glazed ham,” she tickled his belly, causing him to let out an almost laughing whine. “With a side of sweet potatoes and winter chard.” she rolled next to him, snuggling into him like he was a person. Sprawled out from the tip of his outstretched legs, up to his nose, he outmatched Shera’s height by about one and a half feet. Westeros would surely need to watch out if her wolf ever learned to walk on two feet!

They lazed together for the better part of an hour before Shera called in the maids— but not before donning her veil and choker. The maids would only help dress her from the neck down, and were ushered out after for Shera to do her hair alone. She took in a deep breath as they fastened the corset around her form.

“May need to lay off the blueberry hand pies , my lady,” one of the maids murmured. “‘Tis getting hard to lace you up.”

Shera felt a swirling pit in her stomach at the comment— it wasn’t a secret that she was no svelte ermine. She had curves and a bit of extra mass in the softer areas of her body, coupled with scarred stretch marks around her sizable bosom and thighs. “… hm.” she snorted, not wanting to dignify the maid’s comment with a response. This was, unfortunately, the norm. The jabs, the pokes, the insults between sentences— even the serving girls have become brazen, snickering as Shera walked past. She didn’t exactly understand it— mayhaps it was because she could hardly speak to defend herself, mayhaps they think her daft and non-understanding of their less than tactful barbs.

As normal as it was, it made it no less tiring. “Just… lace it up,” she quipped, a bit too harshly, as she held her thumb and forefinger to her throat at the scratch of pain. “… I have things to attend to…”

“Yes, my lady.” the maids responded in tandem, squeezing poor Shera into a corset much too tight.

After they left, Shera picked up a shoe and threw it at the door, startling Moongeist. “Damned ptarmigans… clucking hens… when do they cease?” she groaned, patting the wolf on the head as he, ever dutifully, retrieved her shoe. “I’m… we’re the wolves— they’re supposed to be afraid of me.” she continued, as it usually went. She would whisper and murmur to herself (to Moongeist) while she readied herself. Sitting in front of the open window, her fingers deftly weaved through her auburn locks, working absentmindedly into a braid. She pinned the braid upon her head, glanced at the mirror, then unpinned it.

It became a back and forth task as she meticulously decided on a hairstyle— she wasn’t usually so vain, but apparently, Prince Jacaerys was arriving for a meeting. She’d spent some time with him the past few moons as they ‘courted’. He was polite, of course, and had grown into himself well since their childhood. But… Shera felt nothing for him, princely charm be damned. And she was increasingly sure he felt the same, more inclined to enjoy the company of Cregan rather than her.

But that was the way of the world, wasn’t it? To be trapped in a loveless box for titles, for armies and alliances, for oaths— that was fate. And fate… was usually unchanged. Shera oft cursed the Gods, the Old and the New, for weaving her tapestry of life in such a bereft and depressing manner. If she were to look upon it, it’d be dreary and uncouth, not fit to hang upon a wall, destined to rot and mold in a cellar for eternity.

But what did Shera know of love, anyhow. How could she— for who would love a banshee?

She settled on twin braids that settled upon her back, pinned up into two loops. Adjusting her veil in the mirror and assuring she wasn’t too visible, she made for the door, Moongeist pressed to her.

The winding halls of Winterfell had become second nature, muscle memory— but her mind wandered, imploring herself to think… Did she remember such paths at the Red Keep? She hoped her memory, if nothing else, would serve her well one day.

None of the denizens she passed by in the corridors spoke to her, only gave her stiff nods before avoiding her eye line. Was she such an abhorrent sight? Her heels clicked against the stone, fingertips skimming the walls as she stayed close to them, using the familiar winding gait to guide her to the Great Hall. Her stomach grumbled under her tight corset�� she hadn’t even had time to break her fast before already being shoved to the dragon’s maw. She heard the whispers of the ‘dashing dragon prince’ arriving early, upon his dragon which was the color of a witch’s brew, green and sprightly. Shera couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she pushed the heavy oaken door to the hall.

Cregan was there, beard trimmed so as to not be unsightly, and laden in dark aurochs fur. Their ancestral weapon, Ice, was strapped to his back like a second spine, rigid and unyielding. He was faced towards the fire in the hearth, while Jacaerys was to his side, the two already deep in conversation.

The sound of the door opening was as good of an indication of her arrival as she would get, and they both turned to her in tandem. Jacaerys, gallant and princely as ever, rushed to her side, but not before stopping a few paces before, as Moongeist was pressed to her thigh with a wary look in his eye.

“My lady,” Jacaerys exclaimed, flashing his dazzling smile, his brown mop of curls bouncing as he approached, albeit cautiously. “You look radiant as ever.”

Shera’s brow rose from under her veil– her facial expressions were hardly seen, and she was able to give her unabashed reactions to things quite often. She was woe to master the art of masking, so she simply did not. He called her radiant– an alluring lie if she ever heard one, he couldn’t see her face, how could she possibly be radiant? She presumed his mother had been schooling him in the art of politics. That is what this is, isn’t it? It’s all just… politicking.

“My prince,” Shera responded softly, giving Moongeist an ever subtle command to sit to the side, allowing Jace to take her arm. She didn’t much like being touched by other people, it made her skin crawl, but she too needed to… continue the charade. “Thank you– you are quite early, I hope I look… presentable.”

“We were waiting for a bit, Shera,” Cregan commented offhandedly, cracking his knuckles slightly. He was a bit annoyed, she could tell. “But, ladies do take long to get ready, do they not, my prince?”

“It wasn’t a long wait, no worries,” Jace responded coolly. “But yes, it takes a small army and frequent turning of an hourglass for my mother to finally be ready, I imagine it’s similar for most ladies.”

Ah, yes. As if it doesn’t take Cregan an hour to pick out his furs for the day, pompous ass. And did Jacaerys don himself in that heavy dragonscale plated armor? Doubtful. Shera suppressed the urge to give an indignant huff. “My… deepest apologies,” she murmured. “I do hope my dear brother wasn’t such a terrible conversationalist.”

Cregan snorted as Jace guided Shera to her seat, pushing it in for her. “My mother– she wishes to meet you, of course,” Jacaerys prattled, scooting into the chair next to her (and Cregan). “We are going to go to the Queen for approval for the official betrothal… and subsequent wedding.”

Shera blinked slowly as she absorbed the information. She expected to have to meet Princess Rhaenyra at some point and for the Queen to become involved in the betrothal– but the wedding? Subsequent? The nail on her pointer finger dug into the nail bed of her thumb idly, picking, picking, picking as she mulled over her next words. “... will the wedding be soon, my prince?” she asked, sneaking a glance at Cregan, who had a glazed over look in his eye.

“... my mother wishes to secure the… union before her ascension, my lady.”

“The King is not yet dead– I don’t understand the rush.” Shera blurted out, her nail sinking deeper into her flesh. She felt like there was some sort of secret she was not a part of, some undisclosed plan that she wasn’t privy to Oh, yes, of course– she was just the pawn, wasn’t she?

“That is well and true– my grandsire, the King, has been in poorly health for the past few years. It is… only a matter of time.” Jace stammered, trying to regain the upper hand in the conversation.

“Rhaenyra’s ascension will happen sooner than later, Shera. It is only a wish that you and Jacaerys are well bonded by then, mayhaps even producing an heir.” Cregan interjected.

She wanted to vomit, she wanted to scream, she wanted to lash out at everyone– she was a vessel, a puppet for a greater vision of Westeros that nobody cared if she was specifically a part of– ‘twas only her luck she was the sister of the Warden of the North, who held an amassing army and ferocity for those he was bidden for. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Warmth spread onto her fingertip and Moongeist shuffled at her feet, a low whine coming from the back of his throat. She felt such a rage come over her for a split second, her vision blurring as she felt the overwhelming need to sink her teeth into someone and make them feel her despair.

“Okay.” she finally said, her voice sounding far away and small, as if it wasn’t even hers.

Jacaerys and Cregan conversated further while Shera stared off into some small point in the distance until her eyes watered from not blinking, blood pooling and staining against her nails.

“Thank you. I must break my fast now,” Shera suddenly spoke up, not caring if the two of them were in the middle of a conversation. “We will leave within a fortnight.”

The journey from the hall back to her room was a blur, she remembers curtsying to Jacaerys and bidding him goodbye and some other innocuous pleasantries. Sitting back at her desk, she tore off her veil in frustration, bracelets and earrings alike jingling. She put her head in her hands, feeling the all too familiar ache of tears building.

She didn’t want to go— why did she have to be married? Why was it her destiny to be a pawn? To be a wife? Especially to someone who was there. Her throat clenched as she tried to hold back the tears— to no avail. They burned and stung, her already tender demeanor withering.

Prying her hands away, she looked over her desk. It was strewn with miscellaneous books to which she struggled to read, along with some half-done charcoal sketches of prospective sewing projects. Shera wasn’t known for outbursts, as her quiet and ghostly prefecture was one that stayed in the background of things. But, she felt a roiling in her stomach, wrought over like forged castle steel, molten and aching and hot— it burned in her like a plague, working its way through her and exiting her body in the form of a wail, coupled with her arms sweeping off the contents of her desk to the floor.

The momentary feeling of anguish subsided as soon as it came and her throat ached from her cry. Her eyes felt heavy as she tried to get up and subsequently failed, sinking to the ground like a discarded rag. Moongeist let out a whine, propping his head under Shera’s arm, having her rest some of her weight upon him.

“I’m pathetic, my love,” she whispered, feeling all the part of a fallen porcelain doll, placated on her bottom upon the floor, legs out in front of her as if she were a child on a playroom floor. “Nothing like the Winter Kings of yore. I’m sorry.” Shera’s thumb rubbed on the wolf’s ear as she wallowed momentarily in self-pity and self-loathing.

Gathering some strength, she pushed the papers below her desk to the side. The sweeping motion befell something new— no, not new. ‘Twas old, upon inspection. It was a stack of letters, covered in dust now, but neatly tied together with wool twine. Unveiling one, she skimmed it over to the best of her ability.

Dearest Shera,

It isn’t the same without you here. My head hurts all of the time, I keep bumping into things and I can scarcely write. In fact, I am having Helaena pen this to you right now. She says hello.

Mother is in shambles, frayed at the ends like your old blue dinner dress. Her and grandsire are constantly whispering and she cries more often. I think she misses you.

As does Helaena. As do I. Mayhaps even Aegon.

Does your head hurt as well? What do you do to help with the pain? Are you able to walk without bumping into things?

I hope to hear from you soon.

Best,

Aemond Targaryen

That had been the first letter sent to her from King’s Landing— Cregan, to his own dismay, sat down and read it to her after she had spinned herself into a crying fit, sending the maesters into a tizzy as she threatened to reopen the stitches upon her throat.

In her poppy-addled young mind, she hadn’t recognized that it was not Aemond’s writing or words, but most definitely Helaena’s, as the letter Shera sent back were those of Cregan, and not hers.

Prince Aemond,

It is an honor to hear from you. I’m recovering quite well, at the behest of my brother. Winterfell is very different from the South, but I am finally finding my footing here in the cold.

I have been a wolf at heart this entire time, like my forefathers.

My ability to walk has been improving, as the maesters here are excellently equipped for such a feat.

It is my hope that we can both find a sense of normalcy in our lives once more.

I wish you well.

Regards,

Shera Stark

She’d hardly remembered when Cregan read it aloud, and she didn’t catch the cold, rigid wording, bereft of any warmth and camaraderie that she would have included. Truth be told, at the time of it being written, Shera couldn’t even hold her own spoon to sip at bone broth, much less walk.

It was unclear to her still, to this day, why Cregan felt the need to lie about her condition— but it was apparently a well placed one, as the next letter to come was in another tone all together. It was about three moons afterward, and the handwriting was different. It was a bit shaky, but proper and dignified.

Lady Stark,

I am most gracious for your reply. It is a balm to the Queen to hear you are doing well.

Let us both hope we are well on the road to our full recoveries.

Stay warm.

Signed,

Prince Aemond Targaryen

Shera’s fingers traced over the letter, she could still recognize it as Aemond’s handwriting— but the tone seemed clipped and cold, colder than even Cregan’s letter was.

There were a few more envelopes in the stack, but if she remembered correctly, there was nothing of substance. Her chest ached occasionally when she thought about it all— did Aemond think of her still? Or was she just a silly footnote in his life? She abhorred to admit to herself, much less anyone else, that she still did. Aemond Targaryen still had a place in her mind, an undeterred host in the recesses of her brain that she couldn’t rid herself of— if she even wanted to. She wondered what he looked like now. Was he finally as tall as Aegon, mayhaps more? Did he finally get his hands upon the book he had been wanting to read? She hoped he spent his days flying upon Vhagar’s back— a gift that he had paid the price for.

She did as well. But her price wasn’t for Vhagar. It was for Aemond.

Her throat burned and constricted with the threat of tears once more as she pulled herself from the floor, Moongeist’s body pressed to her hip to guide her. Padding to the fireplace, which was nursing a few hot coals and sparse flame, she fed the letters into the fire one by one. The flames grew as they burned, the ink upon the pages fettering into nothing but ash and sickly memory.

Were they strangers now?

Does he remember her?

… why does she still wish to see him?

A wolf travels south at the behest of one dragon– but her mind upon another.

How sordid.

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #banshees lament #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x original female character #aemond x ofc

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leidensygdom · 4 days

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Ok, I'm gonna start a post idea I had been pondering. If you're either mentally or physically disabled and you have opinions about representation, this is the thread for you!

So, I've been seeing more people trying to tackle the topic of autism in their stories, but I've felt some of it tries to woobify a bit what is to live with autism, or just focus on the more socially acceptable quirks of it. And as someone with autism/ADHD (was suspected of it for most of my life, got it finally diagnosed by my therapist (who specializes in autism and ADHD) last year), sometimes I'd like for people to acknowledge the more unsavoury parts of it, the weird quirks, etc.

So, this post is going to be about that- If you wanna help people understand how your disability/neurodivergency affects your life, feel free to add to it! Just mention what do you have (no need for a full list, just what you consider relevant to the post) and some experiences, quirks, anecdotes or such that you think that are not often seen in stories or media, and that you consider an important part of it. They don't need to be huge things! I encourage people to share just whatever they feel comfortable. My list is gonna be a mix of stuff, but yours can be very different. Let me start!

Clothes and how they feel was surprisingly one of the most disruptive parts of my autism. As a kid, if I was forced to wear something that caused me some bad texture/sensitivity issues, it would significantly affect my behaviour and performance. It took me many years to be allowed to use mostly sportswear. (And it turns out being a "girl" (not anymore) wearing only sportswear tends to cause a whole lot of bullying)

This happens even nowadays. I've found out that non-heeled boots are more comfortable to me than sport shoes, because feeling something against the back of my foot makes me feel overwhelmed. I tend to wear yoga pants under actual pants, because they keep the actual pants' seams from causing sensory issues. There's almost a sort of ritual on how do I need to combine clothes to be able to function "normally", mostly consisting on reducing how much they annoy me.

On that topic, hygiene is actually a huge thing too. As a kid, I wasn't allowed to shower daily. Days I didn't shower, no matter how much I tried to keep my hygiene in other days, were "bad days" to me. I would literally plan hanging out with friends or eating out around the days I was allowed to shower. I could physically feel the difference between the day I showered and the day I didn't (even if I washed my face, armpits, used the bidet, etc).

This is true even nowadays. I can thankfully now shower daily, which isn't recommended by a lot of experts (specially because it can damage your hair and skin), but it's more worth to me than having days where I feel like I shouldn't be seen in public.

Being overwhelmed sucks! Meltdowns are mostly associated with kids, mostly because adults either learn to mask them, or do everything they can to AVOID having that meltdown. I've mostly figured out routines and such. There's this one place we go eat out every other Tuesday- And in the hours we go in, there's a sort of silent corner that is always free. This week's schedule was a mess, so we went yesterday to that same place, and the silent corner was filled with a very loud group. I got extremely overwhelmed. But enough masking drilled to me means I just sat there unable to talk for maybe 30 minutes.

Autistic adults still do have autism and experience often the full spread of traits, they've just found ways to mask, or avoid being in situations where they do need to do that. I've adapted my life and routine to that. But sometimes I land on situations out of my comfort zone that will make me feel just like when I was a kid. I want to freelance online because I'm fully aware I can't perform properly in a public facing job.

Group projects sucked so much. I know they suck for most people, but most times it was easier for me to do the entirety of the project by myself and add the others' names to it than dealing with chasing people for their parts. My college had a 6-months-long massive group project in the last year, with a 7 people group, which obviously I couldn't do alone. The whole experience was so harmful in so many ways I've had several full therapy sessions talking about it :'')

One of the reasons it's because mental flexibility is HARD with autism. If i set a schedule, I expect that schedule to be followed. If people agree to do a part, I expect that part to be delivered (unless there's a proper reason) on due time. People hate this a lot usually! It will tear group projects apart!

Stimming can be harmless, or it can be very annoying to some. I tend to shake legs and play with something in my hands. I could easy this off drawing in classes- My high school found out that I was paying more attention when I was allowed to draw in classes, and my academic performance was pretty much perfect, so they gave me permission to do that.

However, I had a teacher in middle school that did forbid me from drawing. I stimmed during a class with pens- She got so mad she sent me home with a note to my parents they had to sign. Fun!

Not exactly an anecdote, but I am ace. I hate the discourse about "making an autistic person be aro or ace is infantilizing autism". Aro/ace people can have autism. That's just how it is. I've been infantilized a lot for being ace- Which only got worse because I am autistic, and people perceived some of my special interests as child-ish. The combo didn't make things easy.

On that topic, people will often be very patronizing of your opinions or takes for being autistic. I've had people debate my sexuality (or lack of thereof), my gender identity and presentation, my hobbies, my preferences for everything, down to "what do you want to eat tonight?". This isn't too different to shitty takes about how "autistic people are more prone to being affected by the trans activistsTM", because people assume autistic people can't choose on their own. Trust me: We can.

Anyhow, I'd love if this post could be a good compilation of these sort of anecdotes! I think it could help people who wanna learn more about what is it to live with specific disabilities (and how to better portray them in media)

#nd #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #disability #disabled #autism #adhd #neurodivergencies #long post

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roabythecow · 15 days

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HEY BITCHES, BROS, AND NONBINARY HOES ‼️

ARE YOU A 15 TO 28 AGED WRITER? ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A COMMUNITY OF FELLOW POETS AND WHATNOT LIKE YOURSELF? DO YOU HAVE PETRIFYING LONELINESS? ARE YOU STRUGGLING TO PAY THE BILLS WITH YOUR 9$ AN HOUR?

WELL I CAN SOLVE NOT ONE, NOT THREE, BUT POTENTIALLY TWO OF THOSE PROBLEMS!

Now I know what you're thinking...

I AGREE! 😃 But I assure you, this server is full of pretty chill people, and your typical discord drama is at the bare minimum. Some folks are even so desperate for their drama fix that they make it up when I ask her for a review! ✨️

Thanks Finch, you're really helping our image... /silly

We also prioritize keeping the server small—90 members is our limit—so as not to be overwhelming. We're currently at 45 members (but surprisingly active 🤯), because we took a sit back from advertising since we were comfortable with the size and vibe of our server overall, but we're back at it, and guess what! Since we have a member limit, this is your

"But OP!!! I want to know MORE about this server before joining!! 🥺" You may or may not be saying because you're just so damn impatient and want the link immediately 🙄 /silly

Well, my dear dear Tumblr user, our writing community is diverse, from poets to original authors to fanfiction writers of all genres! And our range of skill levels is just as wide. We have people just stepping foot into the writing scene to folks who've been stuck in the paragraphs for centuries. We chat about our stories, share our work, brainstorm, proofread, and do prompts and sprints. However, I would like to make it clear that our server is more of a writing community, so it isn't as writing-focused as other writing servers out there. I'd say it's 60% fun shenanigans and 40% writing-related. Aside from the writing akin, there's plenty of fandom talk, artwork sharing, fun as hell VCs, movie nights, and speechless music bot VCs if you're feeling extra introverted. /pos

We're also very queer and non-neurotypical up in here. It's a safe space for all races, disabilities, genders, sexualities, and identities. If you're not chill with that, you're not welcome here.

Here are some of our reviews! ✨️

(Please zoom in to read.)

Now my precious ADHD Tumblrina, don't you scroll away just yet if the link doesn't work! You see, because we value a safe environment on our server, we shut down this link once we reach our max amount of members! So please, DM me for a link if necessary, and I'll let you in as soon as there's space! I DON'T BITE! What do you take me for, a horse?

😯 Oh, sorry, didn't see you there, our Tumblr famous server residential horse girl @penciled-palominos

What do you take me for, a toy playing kid?

😯 Oh, sorry, didn't see you there, our Tumblr famous server residential LPS enjoyer @lpsotd

What do you take me for, a crazy gay?

😯 Oh, sorry, didn't see you there, our Tumblr famous server residential men obsessor @lycanboybreakdowns

Crazy how I just bumped into all those famous people on our server... 🫢

We can't wait to meet you!

#authors #discord server #join my discord #poetry #writers #writing server #discord chat #poets #fanfiction #fiw #fiw ads #queer spaces #beginner writer #proofreading #writing prompts #original story #writing sprints #writing community #introverts

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ihopesocomic · 2 months

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What are some scraped ideas that you had for the IHS comic?

Here be a list:

Carnelian was originally planned to originate from an order of warrior lion mercenaries named after types of weaponry. They were located in an area of the map known as Acacia Grove (which was roughly in the empty territory between the Thundering Mountains and the Kingblessed Coast). We wrote it out because it seemed like a ton of wasted potential. I'm reusing the idea for one of my IHS OCs though.

A couple of things we had planned but changed due to critique from readers include: Hope opting to choose to disown her parents vs. being exiled and Diamond being non-binary trans masc as opposed to a trans lioness. The latter was back when we had them and Wind as our only canon trans characters and yep, we were in danger of falling into stereotyping so kudos to that anon who very kindly pointed it out for us.

Hopeful was originally going to have a broken back leg vs. an undeveloped limb. We changed this so that her disability would not feel like a tragedy hanging over her like it does with Nothing and somewhat switched this circumstance over to Bronze instead, showing that - despite the loss of his limb - he is still capable of carrying out the duties handed down to him but with assistance and accommodation from the other tunnel guards.

We were originally gonna use wc-style names similar to My Pride but that got dropped almost immediately because we wanted to make it easier for prides to be told apart.

We originally were gonna have a tigress character who the girls were going to meet and converse with, to highlight how tigers are critically endangered and how such a thing leads their culture of depending on the self vs. folklore heroes. Unfortunately, we couldn't verify if the South African reserves that house these tigers are managed ethically and we didn't want to promote anything problematic. Thus, she was replaced by a pair of cheetahs instead.

Daffodil was originally a lot older and a minion of Rose's. They were replaced by Heather and made into a reincarnation of Quiet.

We wanted to do a side comic for Careful but soon realised we would not have time for this. It's probable I'll dedicate a written story to her in the future however.

Fade was originally planned to be killed accidentally by Storm.

Diamond was originally going to be a deaf lion known as Zoisite. We changed this due to feeling that we would be unable to properly portray deafness in comic form. Zoisite as a name was retained for Amber's aunt, however.

Zircon was originally known as Topaz. - RJ

#ask #ask us stuff #rj answers #general comic stuff #all cast #early concepts

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thisismisogynoir · 9 days

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I cannot with this.I get that 'narcissistic' as an insult is inherently ableist but Hobie's not 'an ableist fuck',he's a fictional character and it was a one off line💀Like this just screams white,imagine hating like the first mainstream black punk character that's actually as popular as they should be and is like the blackest designed superhero ever PLUS a literal fascist killer and huge activist that took in a trans girl bc her abusive dad kicked her out........because of one line he said that was never backed up or referenced.We never should've let yts have Spiderverse ong

I agree so much with this. Now I won't deny that using "narcissist" as an insult is ableist and I can understand op being upset at Hobie for that, it's still a wild reach to claim that Hobie is ableist because of that one line. He is a fictional character who does not exist in a vacuum, he is controlled by writers who chose to make him use narcissistic as an insult. If there's anyone you should be upset with, it's the writers.

Hobie has always been shown to be nothing short of open-minded and woke and respectful of other people's cultures and identities, and promoting freedom and anarchism in general because, fuck, that's what punk is all about! Even I, someone who has a very low opinion of men as a whole, think Hobie is amazing and would love to hang out with him if he were real! He just seems like a really warm and welcoming fellow! And at the end of the day, no one is perfect, even woke and open-minded people have their blind spots, so even if we separate the art from the artist we could always say that Hobie, as someone from the 70s, isn't aware that using narcissistic as an insult is ableist, and would definitely apologize and do better. Like demonizing cluster-bs is something that is so normalized and embedded in our culture that even the most progressive and super well-meaning people can still fall prey to it. Yes, even other disabled and neurodivergent people, including those who ARE cluster-b and don't know it. Hell, I'm cluster-b and consider myself a progressive person and in the past I used to use "narcissist" "sociopath" and "psychopath" as insults because I just didn't know better. Once I did realize it was bad, however, I stopped. And the same could be true for Hobie.

If OP is so mad about it(which is fair, but still) they could always just write a fanfiction or create a headcanon where Hobie learns the true implications of using cluster-b terms as insults and stops doing it. Hell they could even hc Hobie as being cluster-b himself! But taking it out on the character and calling him an "ableist fuck", when, once again, you're all right to be upset, but that's a little bit too much. I bet if Hobie was white or non-Black this person would have patience for him and understand that it's not his fault, but the writers' faults, but because he's Black, because he's dark-skinned and Black, and alt to boot, he's a big bad scary monster who would definitely beat up narcissists and sociopaths for fun and therefore he must be demonized, attacked, and mistrusted according to this person.

TLDR OP get a grip.

#ableism #cluster-b #pro-cluster b #cluster-b safe space #spiderman #atsv #hobie brown

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skyfallslayer · 7 months

Text

The Darkness In Me || Story 2: Auld Acquaintances

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🖤 Series Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Story Summary: Deciding you have no choice anymore, especially how your new partner scared you half to death, and the police in this city seemed not to care, your hundred percent committed to becoming a vigilante. But before you could do this, you run into an old childhood friend and his business partner. But unknowingly to you, he’s not the same little boy you remembered hanging out with. He’s… something else entirely.

🖤 Date: 10/08

🖤 Rating: Mature

🖤 Word Count: 7,962

🖤 Warning: Alcohol Consumption; Small Reference to Past Abuse/Child Abuse; Small Reference to PTSD; Small Reference to Past Non-Con/Rape; Heavy Language; Talks of Murder(ing); Talks of Death/Dying; Disability Talk; Nightmares. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

🖤 A/N: Let me know if I missed anything above. Any who, this is where all the fun begins! Plus, Matt's finally here! Along with a few other familiar faces. I don't have much else to say, except enjoy!

You felt like your head was going to split with each memory. But… this was normal for you, believe or not. I guess it comes with the job. Or… did it just naturally come to you with your life?

You suppose so. Could you blame yourself for having these? Could you point fingers at yourself for causing these obstacles? You shouldn’t. It’s not like any of it was your fault, but there was no one here to tell you to not take the blame. No one to coddle you and tell you that everything will be alright.

You could still smell the smoke and feel the glass in your skin. Your whole world was sideways as you stared in shock and denial as the victims never moved.

“MOM! DAD!” You screamed, your lungs burning with fear as they never would be able to call back to you; To tell you that they’re okay and everything will be fine.

“No! Stop! IT HURTS!!” Your pleading sobs were on death’s ears as your Aunt continued pushing your head face down onto the table; Detest in her eyes.

“After the stunt you pulled, there’s no way I want another mutant in this household.” She spat, letting the people she hired do their work as they started making an incision in the base of your neck.

You tried wiggling out their grasp but to no avail. “Please! It was an accident! I didn’t mean to!!”

You felt his hand touch your thigh after he kicked you in the dirt; His companions howling with laughter in the background. Like this situation you were brought into was the highlight of their week.

“Awe, baby girl. You’ve got to know your place or you ain’t going to be moving up.” One cooed, cupping your face with his hands, giving you enough view of the stars on his uniform. Certainly more than you have right now.

You tried to crawl back, but the two other people present had blocked you from behind, busting a gut again. The other man’s hands were back on your face again, and he was chuckling too.

“Awe. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just a little taste is all I need.” He slimed before smacking his lips over yours, ruining you.

It was stupid mistake.

You should have waited for your partner instead of running off on your own.

You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot. You should have waited. You should have waited. You–

You honestly thought the universe would grant you this. To grant you a chance to catch the man you’ve been hunting for weeks, but…

No.

No. Now you’re laying on the ground, your spine feeling funny as you feel the pool of blood grow around your head.

Damn it. You thought. You really thought you had this one in the bag as you started to fade to black just as your partner’s voice broke out into a scream.

“Pl-Please. Y-You have to let me go. I-I have to…” You croaked as your veins felt hot and bubbly, your mind started to buzz, and your eyes started to lose their natural color.

You kept begging and pleading but they wouldn’t listen. You know their criminals, and you know they deserve any kind of punishment but…

You don’t want a repeat of what happened in your childhood. You actually want to avoid hurting anyone again with your abilities, you–

But they started grabbing you and beating you, they started pulling at your limbs and clothes, spewing slurs and hate ‘cause you were the one with the shiny gold badge, you were the one that was supposed to bring them in. And they weren’t having it.

You continued to try to reason with them, feeling the buzzing getting louder and louder, and your fingertips started to glow red and–

They pulled you one last time, which was enough for everything to go haywire, which was enough for you scream an apology and you realize you were–

“NOOOO!!” You gasp awake, your hands frantically attacking the air. It took you always a couple seconds to realize where you were and that everything was just a dream a nightmare. Your adrenaline died down with your heart beat, your shaky breaths were cooling too.

“A dream…” You pants, and lick your chapped lips. “Always a dream…”

Subconsciously, you touched the back of your neck feeling the scar. You were surprised you could still feel how prominent it is after all these years. Especially since maybe you deserved it being there.

You sighed with your eyes closing, taking a deep breath before deciding to look at the clock; Unfortunately realizing it was time to go to work.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You finished getting ready, packing up your bag while you waited for your toast to pop. You groaned at your appearance, you took note of the dark circles under your eyes when you passed by the cheap mirror you bought for yourself, and quickly strolled to your bathroom for some concealer. You did the best you could to look somewhat normal, washing your hands afterwards, and nearly dried off your hands on the costume you wore the other night.

You paused as you remember randomly putting it on before deciding you were going to kick your neighbour’s ass for hurting his wife. A stupid hoodie with cargo pants and a bandana you didn’t even realize you had. Not to mention that you did have some old mittens on that had to be tossed when you couldn’t get the blood off them (And trust me, you’ve tried every remedy out there).

To be honest, you were debating going out there after that night. Even though it felt… good… you weren’t sure how people in the public would feel if suddenly a vigilante decided to show up out of the blue.

You frown, and almost left it.

Almost.

A split step outside the bathroom, and you had already made your mind up. “Oh, fuck it.” You mumbled and snagged it off your hook, rolling it up and stuffing it into your bag (along with the boots you wore that night).

You grabbed your piece of toast and were ready for whatever work throws at you today.

And not that you were ready for any of this today.

When you finally entered the police department you immediately felt everyone’s surprised stare towards you. Every. Single. Person. They were all staring at you, not even trying to hide it. However, they weren’t surprised by the fact that you finally decided to come into work several days later, but by the fact that you were actually at work. You could tell that they were surprised that you were still… well…

Alive.

I guess they really thought that this ‘Kingpin’ was going to get you.

Cowards. You were scared of nothing. You kept a straight face as you walked past everyone who was still gawking at you like a zoo animal. You somehow managed to keep your cool even when Grimm came running up next to you.

“L-Lieutenant! You’re okay!” He spewed out, looking and sounding like was actually worried (Was he?). “We were wondering if you–”

You throw up the bird and give him a cold glare. “Fuck off, Grimm.” You reply, and exited the area for the locker rooms in the back. But as you were passing by, a man next to the water fountain caught your attention.

“Lieutenant, huh?” His voice raspy and low, almost like he was giving up and fighting at the same time. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl, are you?”

You pause your movement to get a good look at him. A man, who you assumed was just a bit older than you, stood about five-eleven with dark hair with the sides shaved, and had a nasty looking scar over his right eye. You took notice of the pack of cigarettes in his hand and how wrinkled his clothes were.

Interesting.

“That would be.” You said, keeping your guard up in case this was another asshole. You watched him as he checked you out head-to-toe before chuckling quietly.

“Huh. So that would make you my new partner.” He said, with a bit of amusement.

Now it was your turn to act surprised. “Wait… you’re Castle?”

“That’ll be me.” He shifts his stance towards you and holds his calloused hand out. “Captain Frank Castle.”

You shook it. “Detective Y/N L/N.”

“You introduce yourself as Detective?”

“I like it that way. Gives me… a more mysterious vibe.”

He snorts, his lips quirking up into a smile. “I like you already. See, I prefer Captain. Gives me… a sense of dominance when I’m out in the field.”

You tilt your head, playing coy. “Well, I can certainly see that.”

“Hmm. Sassy. You remind me of someone I know.” His smile fades a little before standing straighter, shoving the pack of cigarettes into his pocket.

“Hopefully that’s a good thing.” You reply, smirking.

“Maybe…”

“Yo! Castle!” A cop said from down the hall. “Boss wants a word with you. Now!”

Frank sighs, throwing his head back. “Ah, our bastard Commander needs a word. Fun.” He said, blowing one last puff of air before putting out the bud on the water fountain, littering. “We’ll catch up later, kid.”

Kid? You raised an eyebrow at him as he watched him walk away. The man that was officially your partner. The man that’ll have to be your mentor for a while. The man that…

Seemed just as messed up as you are.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You weren’t even at the station for an hour when Grimm suddenly appeared next to you, scaring the living hell out of you. “Jesus, man.” You reply, nearly spilling your coffee. “What?”

“So what did he make you do?” He asked, a mixture of worriedness and curiosity (a very odd but seemingly dangerous mix you do say so yourself).

“What?”

“What did he make you do?” He repeated, making you bat your eyes at him, puzzled.

“Who? Our Commander? Or Castle?” You asked, because you were not following. “Frankly, I haven’t really spoke much to any of them, except–”

“No, no, not them. Him.”

“Who’s ‘him’?”

“You know… the big boss.” Grimm subtly looked around before whispering, “The Kingpin.”

You scoffed immediately. “What made you think he made me do something?” You asked, watching him get taken back by your answer.

“W-Well, you’re… alive, So I thought–”

You sigh, and start walking back towards your desk with him on your heels. “What makes you think I wasn’t alive?”

“Well, we didn’t see you for a couple days. So we thought–”

“I wasn’t feeling it. And besides, I told you, I ain’t following this… ‘program’ unless he comes face-to-face and tells me himself. I don’t want any of his goons coming and telling me to do something.”

“B-But–” Grimm speeds up so he’s slightly ahead of you. “That’s how he does business. He rarely makes an actual appearance. He–”

“Then I ain’t doing anything that’s not an order from my Commander.” You said, picking up the speed as well, hoping to get away from him and end the discussion (or at least see if he takes the hint). You start taking a sip of your drink, but unexpectedly, he knocks it out of your hands, letting it fall to the floor. You looked at him in disbelief just as he grabbed you by the shoulders.

“Lieutenant, listen to me. If you don’t accept the program, bad things are going to happen. And since, it sounds like you’re all alone in your life, there will be no blackmail, only death.” Grimm explained, and his hands started trembling at the thoughts he was thinking. “I-I could, or a-anyone here, could reach out to him; We can ask him to give you an assignment instead of accepting and waiting for an invitation. We can just–”

You threw his hands off of you, giving him the cold glare from earlier. “I’m going across the street for a new coffee. I’ll be back.” You start walking away once more. “Or maybe I should just bring a whole case of booze for myself, seeing how this day’s already turning out.”

You felt everyone’s eyes on you again as you started leaving the precinct. And of course, the little leech that had attached itself to you was still following you, even to the outside world.

He stops on top of the stairs, shouting, “You have to accept the program, L/N! It’s the only guarantee that everything will be alright here!”

You growled under your breath as you turned around. “Will you shut the fuck up already?! I ain’t accepting shit unless he tells me himself!” You watched as he shuttered, and everyone passing by looked at you like a madman. “What are you all looking at?! Do your own fucking jobs and stop worrying about mine!”

That seemed to do the trick, as they all disbanded, heading back inside to mind their own business. You groaned and closed your eyes while running a hand through your hair, just thinking. You can’t believe this shit was still going on. I mean, you should have expected it, but you were holding onto a slimmer of hope that everything was going to be a-okay.

Jesus, Why can’t they leave me–

“You changed your name.” A voice creeped up from behind you, feeling the air get knocked out of you. Trying to not look so startled as your head whips around, looking down the stairs. That voice sounded… what exactly?

You were met with, in your opinion, a very handsome looking man, probably around your age; Nicely combed chestnut colored hair with a pair of red shades, complementing the slick black, neatly pressed suit he had on. He looked like a man ready for business.

Even though he was kind of captivating to look at, you just continued to stare as your brain processed everything that he just said.

And It did take you a minute to finally understand why he sounded familiar, a memory buried just beneath the surface of your delegate mind.

You blinked, slowly putting it together, finally stringing the courage to say–

“...Matthew… Matthew Murdock?” You asked, still unsure.

He chuckles softly, flashing those pearly whites. “That would be me.”

Your eyes widened with shock as you took a step down towards him. “Oh my… oh my god. I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d see you again. Your–” You trail off when you finally notice the cane he was holding. Though, it was not just any regular cane that anyone could have.

Cane and shades. Oh my god, he’s–

He strangely sensed what you were looking at, and gave you a bittersweet look. “I know I look different since the last time we’ve seen each other.”

Your face flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I-I didn’t mean–”

“No, no. I know. I get it. Um…” He shifts his weight around, copying with your own feelings. “Are you… free to get some coffee?”

“Coffee? Um…” You shake your head when you even give your job another thought, and smile. “Sure. I’d love to.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“So…” You were trying to figure out how to start this conversation as you both leave the cafe, drinks in hand. “How… How’ve you been? Since it’s been, um…”

Wait. How long has it been? You thought, racking your brain which he seemed to have read.

“Twenty years? Give or take.” He said, with a small smile.

You gasp under your breath. “Jesus, it’s really been that long?”

“It sure has.” He said, a sadness in his undertone. “Um… I’ve been good. I can’t complain.”

You smile softly. “Well, that’s good to hear, Matt–” You shake your head again. “Uh, Matthew. Not, Matt, I uh–”

He chuckles. “You can call me Matt, Y/N. No need to be formal.”

“I can?” You asked, and he nodded. You sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just… trying to get used to this feeling again. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I get it.” He grins just like you remember from your childhood. “When you do get used to it, should I… call you ‘Peaches’ again?”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You teased immediately, and pointed. “That name’s embarrassing.”

“Why? I think it’s adorable.”

“Not in the way I got it!”

“So you confused it for another fruit, I think it should still hold up.”

“I was four! You big tease.” You both had arrived at a crosswalk, and subconsciously you grabbed onto his arm for him to stop. You quickly realized what you did, completely embarrassed.

Way to make it awkward, Y/N!!

“Shit, sorry! I-I shouldn’t have grabbed onto you like that!” You said, as you try to iron out the wrinkle on his sleeve you made.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m used to people grabbing me like that.” He says, truthfully. “My friend Foggy helps string me along all the time.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry… Foggy? Please tell me that’s–”

He holds his hand up. “It’s a nickname. He’s my old college roommate who snores like a foghorn.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was about to say. Who names their kid that?”

He laughs. “Foggy probably would.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Franklin. Nelson.” Matt says as they start crossing the street.

“Franklin ‘Foggy’ Nelson.” You tilt your head at him. “So an old roommate?”

“Roommate, friend, and partner. We’re attorneys.” He clears up after feeling your confused stare on him. “We started our own law firm.”

You looked at him in awe. “Really? You’re a lawyer?”

“Yep.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. Just like your Mother.” You missed how his face fell as you thought of the beautiful brunette woman, always dressed like a goddess in your young eyes (She also made the best pie you’ve ever eaten). You smile at the memory, as the two of you get to the other side. “How is Maggie, by the way?”

“She’s…” You could feel how tense the air had become. “Passed away.”

You nearly stopped in your tracks, the wind getting knocked out of you. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry I didn’t know.” You sigh. “Jeez, I am really fucking up today, aren’t I?”

“You didn’t know though.” He points out as you shake your head.

“I know, I know, but still.”

Times like this I wish I had telepathy as a power.

You took a moment to process this before deciding to carefully test the waters. “Do you mind me… asking how it happened?”

“Not at all.” He replies, sadly. “Uh, car accident. Same one that blinded me.”

“Jesus. I’m so sorry, Matt.”

“It’s okay. She had a good life. I can dwell too much on what happened.” He stops and points with his stick. “Uh, here it is.”

You look up at the office building, a few signs lingering in the front to show what’s there. Of course your eyes beeline to the one you were looking for. “Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law.” You read aloud, not hiding your smile. “Not bad, Mr. Attorney.”

“Please, Attorney’s fine.” He joked, sensing your happiness.

“Wow.” You look back at it and then back at him again, wondering, “Can I see?”

He seems taken back by it, but happily obliges. “Uh, of course.” He gestures to the door. “Head up the stairs, second on the left.”

You curiously head inside as he follows you, letting you lead until he has to unlock the door. Once you are inside, color yourself impressed by it. Now, it’s not the fanciest law office you’ve ever seen or been in, but it was definitely something you could rant about.

You whistle slowly, nodding in excitement. “Whoa. Sweet place.” You said, spinning back around to him.

“I don’t think it’s that luxurious.” Matt said, letting you walk around.

“Why not? I mean, sure, it’s small, but not a lot of people who start their own business would get something like this. It’s amazing.”

He quirks a smile. “I guess. Still could’ve got something better.”

“And how would you do that?” You raise an eyebrow with a teasing look. “You won the lottery and haven’t told Foggy yet?”

“Something like that…” He shifts his weight over, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” You reply, tossing your empty cup away, listening.

“Why did you change your name?”

You paused. “Hmm?”

“What’s with L/N?” He asked, confused. “What happened to Maximoff?”

Your heart sank. You didn’t expect him to realize so soon. “Uh…”

Suddenly the door opens to a bubbly blond man. “Matt, you’re here. We have a client who’s urgently coming over here– or is that her?” He looks puzzled, holding his head. “I swear it was a man on the phone…”

“Oh, I’m not a client.” You said, shaking your head.

“Foggy, this is Y/N. I ran into her this morning.” Matt replies, gesturing towards you with his walking stick.

“Y/N?” His hazel eyes widened. “Wait, like… Y/N? As in your childhood friend?” Foggy asked, with a grin.

“You… talked about me?” You said, looking over at Matt who seemed almost embarrassed by that.

“Oh, Matty here wouldn’t shut up about you.” Foggy steps closer holding out his hand that you take. “Foggy Nelson.”

“Y/N L/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss. So what brings you here? I remember Matt saying something like, ‘you moved many years ago’.”

“Yeah, actually. Why are you back here?” Matt asked, curiously. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure you’re not here on a vacation.”

“Uh…” You cleared your throat, nervously. “You would be correct. I… I was on a job, I’m a detective, and I kind of… messed a very tiny thing up that my superior lost his shit on; Instead of demoting me, my punishment was to relocate back here.”

Foggy whistles slowly. “Damn. What did you do?”

“I’m… still not hundred percent sure about that myself.” You shrugged. “I still think it wasn’t a big deal.”

A laugh. “Well, Thank you for being honest, Miss L/N.”

“Please, Y/N’s fine, Mr. Nelson.”

“And please call me, Foggy. Mr. Nelson was my father.”

You snort, and lightly elbow Matt in the arm. “Oh, I like him. I can see why you attached yourself to him.”

“Are you kidding?” Foggy scoffed playfully. “I’m the one who attached myself to him.”

Matt grins, following along. “Well, I can’t exactly see what got attached to me.”

“Oh, you’ve got blind jokes now, too?” You asked, not surprised.

“Of course, what else would I do?”

“Was he a smartass like this when you were kids?” Foggy asked, making you nod eagerly.

“Oh, yeah. You have no idea.” You reply, honestly. You remember Matt always being a bit of smart ass, even at a young age. A quick look at your watch told you it was time. “I know you have a client coming, so I should probably take my leave.”

“You sure?” Foggy asked, sounding disappointed. “You could pretend to be our secretary.”

You laugh. “I would love to play pretend, but I’m technically still on the clock. So…”

“Awe. I just met you and I want you to stay.”

“It’s not like she’s disappearing again, Foggy.” Matt says, before shifting in your direction. “Right?”

“I promise I won’t disappear again.” You smile. “Uh, well… you know where I work. Come by anytime.”

“Will do.”

You take your leave, and as soon as they don’t hear your footsteps, Foggy faces his friend with the biggest, cartoonish look on his face.

“I can practically hear you grinning.” Matt said, hearing him skip towards him like a kid.

“Oh, come on!” Foggy says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I don’t need super hearing like you to see she was flustered. I think you might be leaning away from the childhood friend zone, Matt.”

“Foggy, I haven’t seen her since I was nine. Maybe she was just happy to see me too.

“Okay, again, don’t need super hearing to tell you’re lying. Besides, you’re Matthew Murdock; The guy who somehow picks out all the pretty women wherever he goes.”

“And… how would I know if Y/N’s beautiful?”

“I don’t know. You describe her as being cute.”

“Yeah, and I was saying that from a nine year old’s point of view.” Matt points out, hearing him sigh. Although, the quietness didn’t last long when he admits that his curiosity has peaked. “What does she look like now?”

Foggy grins again, slinging his arm over his shoulder. “Okay! She’s gotten taller, Obviously. She was wearing a white blouse with a black blazer and pants, very professional looking.” He explains as his friend listens along. “Uh, she still had (Y/H/C) colored hair, which was tied up in a messy bun, and had a few strands in her face, probably from this weather. Uh, you know, (Y/E/C) eyes, uh, some makeup, but not too much. Just the right amount. Uh–”

Matt chuckles. “You’re really going into this one.” He tilts his head playfully. “Shall I set up a date?”

Foggy lightly swats him in the arm. “Can it.” He says, before looking quite prideful of himself. “I, my dear friend, am a happily married man. I think Marci might throw me off the roof If I did.”

“And probably stage it like an accident.”

“Exactly.” He points and sits down in one of the chairs. “I love her too much to do that. But you, on the other hand, don’t have to hesitate.” Foggy points out as his friend sighs. “Come on, Matt. What’s the harm in it? What are you afraid of? Your disability? Your heightened senses? ‘Cause I don’t think she’s going to care about either of those.”

“She’s going to care about something…” Matt mumbles, making the blond perk up.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Foggy hums and straightens up. “Well, if it’s not going to be a date, you can at least invite her out to the bar on Thursday with us. Because I deserve to know about your childhood.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “I’ve told you about my childhood.”

“Yeah, but I want it from her point of view. You know–” He shrugs. “Maybe you left out some embarrassing details?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, let’s get that paperwork ready for our client, alright?”

Foggy sighs, playfully. “Fine. Party pooper.” He whines, and then smiles. “But seriously, drinks with her, por favor?”

“I guess I can.” Matt said, admitting defeat as his friend shoots his hands in the air, standing up from his chair towards the printer.

“Thank you!” He sings, getting a laugh…

And a very subtle…

Frown.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You shut the locker you were using loudly before carefully making sure everything was still inside (You still weren’t sure who could even trust in this place). Once you saw everything is, you slung your bag over your shoulder and exited the room, surprised to find your new partner just outside like on repeat.

“Captain?” You said, confused (You wondered if he needed something, or maybe you two finally had a case together).

“Detective.” Frank said, after a puff from his cigarette. “Where’d you run off to this evening?”

“Just some fresh air.” You reply, shocked that he didn’t even sound mad. “Plus, I… ran into someone I knew. Decided to catch up.”

“Hmm. I get it. It can get suffocating here.” His dark eyes trailed down from your face, looking deep in thought (It was starting to make you nervous).

“Captain?”

“Your badge is all twisted in your collar.”

You didn’t even get the chance to look at it yourself before he was leaning in close and started fixing it himself. You stood stiff and confused, not sure what to even say or do. And you really weren’t sure what to do when you suddenly felt his lips by your earlobe.

What is he–

“The walls have ears.” He whispers, making you quietly gasp. You watch him pull away with a smile, and then loudly say, “Want to come with me to the vending machine?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You trained yourself to relax, realizing that you officially know now that someone in the building was watching and eavesdropping on you. You had to act like you were completely unaware of anything, just like you have been since you started here. You stood next to Frank as he was acting like he was trying to decide what he wanted as he started speaking quietly to you.

“I can tell you’re not in the program.” Was the first thing he said, surprising you once again.

“How can you tell?” You asked, also looking preoccupied.

“‘Cause you don’t look scared to death when someone starts talking to you.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“Well…” His frown comes and goes on his face. “Hate to break it to you, but I am.”

You let the shock hit your face before washing it away. “You accepted it?” You asked, as he nodded. You couldn’t even believe it. “Why? And what did they make you do?”

“I had to.” Frank admitted. “I needed to prove myself to the… cause.”

“What did you do?”

He glances at you for a second. “I killed the cop that went against the program’s orders.” He must have seen the way you paled because he apologized. “Sorry. But I didn’t enjoy it if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m just trying to stop all this bullshit.”

“Stop?” You asked, intrigued.

“Yeah. Like it should have all those years ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a different Kingpin who ran the city years ago. His name was Wilson Fisk, and unlike the new one, he showed the world who he was; He wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone. Until… something or someone slipped up, and he was finally charged for all his crimes.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. The public thought it was all over, and they still do. They don’t even realize that another person has claimed the throne of the underworld. Except us on the task force.”

You inhale sharply. “Jesus.”

“Yeah.” He mutters, not even hiding his frown. “Listen, Detective. I’ve read your file and color me impressed; Like, really fucking impressed. You’ve done some amazing things in your career.”

Your heart flutters at the compliment. “Thanks.” However you couldn’t help but wonder what if he was aiming at something else. “But…?”

“But… there will be consequences if you don’t expect the program.”

You scoffed quietly. “So I’ve been told.”

“And you should take it to heart, Kid.” He said, sincerely. “Look, I admire your… hard headedness, and I’ll try to support your decision as much as I can, ‘cause you’re my partner. But you’re going to face the worst of the worse. You’re going to have verbal and physical threats, your job’s going to get tougher, and you’re probably going to have people try to kill you.”

“So I’ve been told.” You said again, making him grow quiet.

Very quiet. You could almost sense the–

“I might have to kill you.”

And then your eyes widened again, this time, your fear really showed. You saw that Frank seemed uncomfortable by what he said (and could you even blame him?).

“I’m your partner, I’m going to be the closest person to you while you’re working here, so it’s highly likely. And I really don’t want to.” Frank meets your gaze, guilt inside his orbs. “But I have a family, Kid. If it comes down to a choice, I’m going to have to choose them over you. You understand?”

You nod slowly. “I understand.”

“Good.” He decides to finally pick what he wanted out of the machine, finishing with, “Just consider everything I said. Because I want to work with you, you seemed like a good fit for me; And I want you to be by my side if we take this guy down.” He reaches down to grab the candy, handing it over to you with a smile. “I’ll see you around.”

You take it in your grasp, watching him leave the room with his work façade on and airtight. Now you were left with all your emotions swirling, leaving you to think everything over rapidly.

I wonder how many people are like Frank. Would I be the same way if I still had my family? It hurts you think about it, but who wouldn’t in a situation like this?

You glanced down at your bag.

That once glance is what you needed to make your choice.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dawning the all black attire once more, you walked along the dark parts of the city, keeping your eyes peeled and ears open for anything useful. But after a few hours out into the night, you almost headed home in defeat until you caught wind of something.

You carefully walked down the steps of the fire escape, looking down at what was the backdoor of a bodega, open, and two people having a tense conversation. You say the shop owner, a guy your age, talking to someone who you deemed shady.

“Where’s the rest?” The shady man asked after rummaging through a duffle back that he handed.

“T-That’s all of it.” The shop keeper said.

“That can’t be all of it. You’re low this month.”

“W-Well profits have been down, so–”

“That’s no excuse.” The shady man grabs him by the collar (which was the last straw in your eyes). “My boss ain’t going to like that.”

“I-I don’t know what you want me to do! I don’t have any–”

You finally dropped to the ground, startling them. The shady man tries to hide his fear by putting up a tough look. “Who the fuck are you?” He sneered, right before you blasted him into the door.

“Get inside.” You told the shopkeeper, which he wastes no time to do. You walked closer and kneeled before the man who was groaning in pain. “So you like to steal money from the innocent. Why?”

He peaked his eyes open, gritting through his teeth. “Who–” Then he sighs. “Oh, you’re a masked… woman? I’m letting a woman beat me?”

“You sure are, buddy.” You snagged his hand just as he started reaching for his gun, and used your strength to apply pressure. “I’ll leave you be if you just answer my question.” You squeezed more getting a peep out of him. “Why are you taking his money?”

“Ugh, c-cause my Boss owns this block, he gets half of the businesses to pay for their protection.”

“So they pay you so you can protect them?”

“Yes!”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know, I’m just the messenger– Ah!!”

You twisted in the opposite direction, making him wiggle under your grasp. “Who’s your Boss? The Kingpin?”

“The Kingpin? Fuck no! I-I mean, we partner with him, but we don’t directly talk to him unless it’s something serious– Ow!”

Interesting. So they’re independent? Or, they believe they’re independent? You have put that information on the backburner for now.

“So who’s your Boss?” You asked, as he shakes his head.

“I ain’t telling you that!”

“Alright then, who’s the Kingpin?”

“He’s–” Then he froze which got you interested.

“Oh, so you know stuff about him? Well that’s perfect.” You use your other hand to pin him to the door. “Tell me everything.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

With just a few pieces of information, it was enough to get you going. Enough to start doing what you thought was necessary. Over the next few weeks, your little night job caught the eyes of the public. What started off with just one newspaper flooded into more. Soon you saw the silhouette picture of you everywhere you go (Might seem a little narcissistic, but you kind of felt a rush from it). But… not everyone felt great about your appearance. What started off with a phone call from one of his men, pleading him to turn on the tv, soon fueled his rage.

The Kingpin, The God of the Underworld, The Western Sun of The Hand, listened intensely to everything the news reporter is saying.

[More Vigilantes? Looks like Queens isn’t the only one having a masked hero, looks like one decided to spawn in our neck of the woods. Nicknamed ‘The Masked Man’ has been helping out our rougher parts, and bringing rightful criminals to justice. This week alone, ten wanted men from a local gang have been placed on the steps of a few police stations. Although authorities are grateful that they’ve been brought in, just like what happened with Queens’ Ghost-Spider, they’re still hesitant against this new helper. But of course, the public have a different opinion, and are praising this new hero with gratitude. Up next, we have–]

The Kingpin clenches his fists with bitterness, and grits through his teeth with, “Those fucking idiots.”

Why didn’t any of them tell him that this was happening frequently? Or that this was happening at all? Why did he have to find out through a goddamn news station?

He could tell his men on the other side of the phone was doing his best not to tremble as he spoke,

[‘Do you want us to see if we can draw him out, Sir?]

“Not yet. I have somewhere to be, and I want to meet this person myself. So, wait for my orders.”

[‘Yes, Sir. Enjoy your night.’]

He hung up the phone, tossing it onto his desk as he let out a heavy sigh. One that was loud enough to make his friend crack a joke as he waltzed in.

“Whoa. What did the desk do to you?” Foggy jokes, getting a snort as a reply.

“Oh, I could make a list.” Matt quips back with a smile.

“Well, if you’re caught up with the news, our last client just left. Which means, we can finally go get drinks!” Foggy starts spinning on his heels for the exit. “Come on! She’s supposed to meet us there! You can’t keep a lady waiting.”

“Of course.” Matt calls out, turning the tv off. The next words could be chilling to anyone that wasn’t his friend. And that was…

“What kind of gentleman would I be?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The three of you clink your glasses and yell, “Cheers!”

“Y/N, I’m glad you could finally make it to our weekly outing.” Foggy replies, chirpy as usual (You could see now how he attached himself to Matt).

“Thank you for the invitation, again. I’m sorry I’m…” You chuckled. “Week’s late. Work’s been pinning me down like crazy.”

“Have you had any cases?” Matt asked, curiously.

“Uh… not really. It’s more like stopping a few robbers, and just going over cold cases. But then we got short staff last week, and somehow I got stuck being a traffic cop. I haven’t been one of those since the academy.”

“Do you miss San Francisco?” Foggy asked, as you shrugged.

“Eh, sometimes. I mean, I liked the people I work with; I miss my old partner Max the most. But my new one, Frank, he’s pretty good, a little lazy sometimes, but still good.”

“So what made you want to be a detective?”

“Is this twenty questions now?” Matt asked, tongue and cheek.

“What?” Foggy said, looking between the two. “I’m just curious. You can’t tell me you’re not.”

“Well, uh—”

“Yeah, he’s curious. Please tell us, Y/N.”

You laugh at their shenanigans, reminding you of your youth. “Uh, let’s see.” You start racking your brain on the reason why. “Honestly… it kind of just happened. I saw it on one of those career guides in my last year of high school and I just went with it. Part of me just thought it sounded cool, and the other part of me just likes the idea of helping someone.”

“Huh.” Foggy takes her answer in dearly. “That’s interesting.”

Another laugh. “I guess.”

“One more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Being in the law enforcement, you know, as someone who has to… uphold the law. How do you feel about these vigilantes in New York? Because–” He points to himself. “I think they’re doing the right thing, despite… ‘breaking’ the law so to speak. Now, Matt on the other hand–” He points to the blind man. “Slightly disagrees with me.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, intrigued.

“I…” Matt begins, shifting in his seat. “Just want to make sure the right guy pays.”

“Huh.” You take that in, storing it away. “Well, it doesn’t really bother me. As long as they’re helping and not hurting the right people, I can side with them.”

“See?” Foggy said, looking in his friend’s direction and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not crazy. And this is coming from a detective of all people.” He sighs blissfully. “Although, my only criticism is, the media needs a better name for this person. Masked Man ain’t cutting it.”

“And what would you call this person? Ghost-Spider 2.0?” Matt asked, interested now (And so were you).

“No, no. This person isn’t a copycat. They need something cool, something, maybe sinister? I mean, have you read one of the reports that say that the person had glowing red eyes? Or that another report said that they swear they fly? So it has to be kind of the nose here. Like… Red Angel, no! Red Devil! Or… Devil Man! Or… uh…”

“Like… Daredevil.” You said, the word clicking in your head. That seemed to get him really excited as he looked like a child in a toy store.

“That’s it! Daredevil! That’s perfect.” He gasps. “Maybe I should have that idea sent somewhere.”

“Daredevil.” You tested, almost getting butterflies from in. “I like it.”

“Oh, I know. It’s perfect.”

You hummed happily. “Alright, enough about a complete stranger. How about the two of you? How did you guys decide to become lawyers?”

Matt hums, thinking. “I guess… mine was kind of just heritage.” He admits, implying his mother’s legacy.

“Well, my mom wanted me to be a butcher, but I told her ‘no’.” Foggy replies, making you tilt your head, confused.

“A butcher?” You asked, as Matt groans.

“Oh, you just opened a can of worms, Y/N.” He says, confusing you more.

“Why?”

Then Foggy claps his hands together, startling you a bit. “Oh, my deary, this is a tale I must tell everyone. But first, I’m hungry. I’m going to buy nachos for the table. Be right back.”

And then he left, and it wasn’t even a second later when the suspense was broken. “You know, if he’s too much, I can make an excuse for you to leave.” Matt half heartedly jokes.

“No, no, I like Foggy.” You smile his way. “I’m glad you both have each other. He seems good for you.”

“You sound almost jealous.”

Yeah, well… maybe?

“Well, let’s be real, Matt, I’m not exactly the same kid I was when I left.” You say, honestly.

“Oh come on, you can’t have changed that much.”

“You have no idea.”

He hums again, leaning closer. “Well, I guess that could imply me as well.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You scoot closer too. “Well… we can just try starting over?”

“Oh, yeah?” He tilts his head. “What about picking up where we left off? Slowly figuring out the missing pieces, Peaches?”

“Oh,yeah? Mr… Bratty-Matty?”

“Oh… Bratty-Matty? You really were a sly kid–” His fingers brush over your. “Weren’t you?”

You chuckle, your heart fluttering. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?” He repeats, then his blank gaze looks away from you. “I can hear Foggy coming back.”

You look up to confirm it. “Yeah, he is.” Which you were kind of sad about.

Seemingly reading your mind, he said, “Hey? If you’re free in the next few days, do you want to catch up? Just you and me?”

You smile, cheeks feeling red. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

“Perfect.”

He removes his hand just as Foggy came back, only for you to grab it under the table. You felt him squeeze back, and start listening to the blond man’s tale about how he became a lawyer.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Sure you don’t want us to walk you home?” Foggy asked, as they all stood outside on the curb, a cab pulling in front of them.

“I’m like one block this way. I’ll be okay.” You said, smiling. “But thanks anyway.”

“Nice seeing, Y/N.” Matt said, as he started folding up his walking stick.

“You too.” You watch them start getting in before blurting out, “Hey, Matt?” You get his attention. “Call me.” That makes him smile, and Foggy cheers on.

“Ooooh.”

“Alright, get in the cab, Nelson.” Matt said, getting in himself.

“Bye, Y/N.”

You wave them goodbye before walking away. Hands in your pocket, and a new pep in your step, you strolled the sidewalk without a care in the world.

I can’t wait to meet him again. You felt like a teenager again with your little highschool crushes.

I wonder what Matt looked like as a teenager? It still saddens you that you lost touch with him all those years back. You always wonder happened to him and why he stopped writing.

Was it because of the accident? Or was it something else? You shake your head.

I’ll just have to ask him next time. Hmm? You stopped your movements in front of a store that you haven’t yet explored, and read the sign before getting an idea.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You plopped the stuff you grabbed onto the counter, everything between some new fabric scraps to some spray paint. You look around nonchalantly as the cashier, who looks like he’s done with this place, starts ringing everything up. You occasionally tuned in on the beeping and the sound of the plastic bag opening before he decided to strike up a conversation.

“You going to comic con or something?”

“Hmm?”

“You going to comic con?” He repeats, and you shake your head.

“No.” You raise an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“The materials you’re buying suggest that you’re making something. A costume?”

You smile, prideful. “Something like that.”

And you could already picture that you weren’t going to be sleeping tonight.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The trembling, beat up goon, kneeled with his head on the floor in front of the man dressed in a blood red suit, a cane shielding the blade everyone saw him use.

“Speak.” Matt hissed, everyone holding their breaths when he spoke.

“I-I swear, this person literally looked like the devil! I-It had horns and c-could fly!” The man shook with every word, biting his lip as he awaited an answer.

“A devil?”

“Y-Yes! A devil! I-It took out the whole truck! Beat up all our guys! Pushed the weapons into the Hudson!”

Matt furrows his brows. “Pushed them into the Hudson? How? Those crates are almost a ton. How is that possible?”

“It’s got some kind of superpower! The whole truck was engulfed in red before being pushed in with a wave of its hand! I s-swear! I’m telling you the truth, my King!”

With a wave of the hand? Matt clenched his can, and anyone could see how angry he was now.

“Sir? What do you want us to do?” Someone behind him asked, and it was no brainer what he wants to do; He’s thought about time and time again.

“Do we still have some of those hallucination vials on hand?” Matt asked, hearing him nod.

“Yes, Sir. We should have a case of them lying around.”

“Good. Get ready.”

“Sir?”

“Because I’ve just declared war on this Devil.”

*Decided to draw what the reader's costume looks like so you can get an Idea.* Ignore the resolution. Idk why it came it out that way. lol.

-Taglist Is Open-

@utterlynuts @etanordoesbullsh1t @mattmurdocksstarlight @l3xiluve @lunaticgurly @margoo0 @swift-enchanted @athenniene

@up-in-space-reading @itwasthereaminuteago @lazyxsquirrel @yeonalie @scoliobean @kayden666

@nkmblackhyuuga

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drdemonprince · 10 months

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thank you for being so open and positive about your experiences as a trans man in gay spaces. growing up, all but one of the gay men I interacted with frequently talked about how they found vaginas repulsive. like they would say it to my face, a kid they perceived as a girl. it really made me feel hopeless and disgusting and unfortunately hostile towards gay men in general but I feel reassured and truly heartened now.

I grew up reading Dan Savage's columns; in an ohio district with abstinence only, he was my only real sex ed. A cis gay man, Dan Savage often likened vaginas to "canned hams dropped from great heights" ; he express disgust for women and for vaginas and once, on an episode of his podcast with Buck Angel, told a non-transitioning trans guy that he was "delusional" for wanting to date gay men.

It did a real number on me. But it turns out Dan Savage was the one who was out of touch with reality, which makes sense given he's a millionaire who lives on Bainbridge Island with other millionaires. Other gay men are not like him. Gay bars and cruising spaces tend to be spaces where a lot of different kinds of men intermingle, cutting across class, race, ability level, and body size, and there's a huge diversity of all kinds of trans people in them too. Gay men will date or fuck us, and befriend us, and I know many many trans guys for whom that is true, most of them fat or disabled or both, and many of them Black or brown.

Will gay guys sometimes misread a person's gender or be superficial (especially at circuit type clubs), of course. But those are only a subset of a subset of a very diverse group. so long as you dont gravitate to the super expensive clubs where only skinny guys in their early 20s hang, youll be good.

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attonposting · 1 year

Text

So KotOR II, when you train your companions into Jedi, I think most of us immediately give our Force Friend Squad healing and lightning and whatever else is gonna make combat go quickest. But looking at them as people, what powers would they actually have an affinity for? What's natural for them to learn and use?

Atton cannot heal to save his life – and it would, given his tendency to get himself into trouble. However, what he does have a knack for is Revitalize, channeling his ability to hang in there and keep fighting no matter what. He's also got a nasty predisposition towards a couple of dark side powers, especially Force Choke. At first Atton is pretty irreverent about how he uses the Force – a blaster bolt or an exploded guy, dead is dead, so what's the difference? - but the issue is that, as before, he likes it. And he doesn't want to feel that anymore. Atton would also be quite good at mind tricks, being both a duplicitous asshole and an ex-assassin with specialized training on how mental domination works, but it's a moot point because he stubbornly refuses to learn them.

Bao-Dur's first foray into the Force involves learning to manipulate the currents in droids – they're the easiest energies for him to connect to, and disabling or overloading machinery from afar comes naturally. What also comes naturally, unfortunately, is Force Scream, especially when they land on Dxun and all his old war wounds are torn open. Canderous joining the crew was not a good time for him, and honestly, when Bao-Dur talks about how he feels calmer in the Exile's presence? I think it makes a lot of difference whether this chat happens before or after Dxun. Bao-Dur's a whirlpool beneath a calm surface, so psychic blasting people with repressed anger and pain hits pretty right from where I'm standing. He has to work a little harder to learn Force healing, but channeling his energy into reconstruction is something he eventually strikes a deep, quiet connection with.

Mira was the hardest for me to peg, at least with the game's power roster. We already know what she's best at through the Force – a strange combination of hunter's instinct and empathy, where she can find people by understanding how they think and what they need. There's no power equivalent to that, though. What I do think she'd excel at is Stun and Stasis. It's part because she always strives to disable people without killing them, and part because that's kind of her whole aesthetic (or at least that's what the design team would like us to believe, smh) – appearing nonthreatening and then taking you down before you ever realized you were in danger. A non-Dark-Side Mira would have a lot of trouble with blatantly lethal powers like Force Lightning and Force Choke, and if she doesn't, that's allll on the Exile's freaky influence warp.

Brianna is a master of combat buffs – at first mastering her own body, and then channeling that near-preternatural surefootedness to her allies. Master Speed, Force Valor, deflecting blaster bolts with her bare hands, it's all in her wheelhouse. Can totally see her in the middle of a pitched fight tossing people around with Force Wave, literally leaping across a battlefield with lightsabers flashing and landing with a shockwave that throws a dozen men back. Girl could go very anime if she wanted. Let's face it, she's earned it.

Mical is absolutely a healer. Guy already had medical training, and more importantly, he is friend-shaped. It's not something that companions can learn or use in-game, but I think that persuasion would also be in his wheelhouse – not for the sake of domination, but out of a sincere desire to seek better solutions where tempers, greed, and pride otherwise rule. Like, c'mon, he becomes a senator in some of his endings – now imagine that, but not completely disillusioned with the galaxy. He could cut you down, but he'd really rather you go home and rethink your life choices. I think there's strong grounds for him getting Force Enlightenment down the road, which is another exclusive-to-PC power that's beyond the scope of many Masters. Mical has about the most complete view of the Jedi Order anyone could aspire to, understanding without excusing its flaws and the easy pitfalls the Code can lead to while still truly believing in the good it can do for the galaxy.

Visas joins the party pre-equipped with a bunch of Dark Side powers, which makes me weep. Like, Force Horror? She's projecting the overwhelming trauma of Katarr. Choke and Lightning? You know Nihilus used them on her liberally. It's awful. But I'd like to think that on a Light Side run, as she grows into her own, she develops different affinities. I get support vibes again, but for Visas, it's about endurance, and sharing what she's gained with those who helped lift her up – Force Barrier and Energy Resistance, Force Aura, maybe Force Resistance. She can still wield her grief and her anger, but it doesn't rule her – she's not like Atton, where those powers hold a real and present danger for his psyche. She still feels that pain, and she's unafraid to use the darkness when necessity calls, but it's not the only thing that fills her heart anymore.

#kotor #kotor 2 #kotor ii #atton rand #bao-dur #visas marr #mira #brianna #the handmaiden #mical #the disciple

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hershhersh · 4 days

Text

Hey you, yeah you would you like to hear my Smurf au headcanons? Well, too bad because here they are

Note: these are my headcanons you don't have to interpret them as Canon or not

Hefty, Handy, and Clumsy are brothers, Hefty and Handy being twins

Hefty is extremely protective of his brothers, if he finds out anything happened to them he will go ballistic

Smurfette has over 150 outfits and shoes to go with them

Smurfette has a spare bedroom for Sassette so she can sleepover whenever she'd like

Vexy and Storm slowly became good friends after Vexy got redeemed

Clumsy has a chipped tooth from an incident when he was a smurfling

Vanity and Smurfette will host sleepovers for them and the girls from the other village

Vanity prefers hanging out with the girls way more due to them being more 'clean' and 'sensitive'

Jokey is scarily good at voice impressions and one time scared Hefty into thinking Gargamel was in the village (Hefty knows what he did 😠)

Papa built Handy's prosthetic arm, Handy didn't have the heart to fully upgrade it, but does like to tweak with it at times

Lily is currently learning about remedies for illnesses from Aloe (an Oc I'll introduce in the future)

Blossom has something similar to a Pinkie sense where she's able to figure stuff out right away and explain it to others non chalantly

Handy likes to create flowers out of leftover building supplies and give them to Lily

Now for some angsty ones 😊

Grouchy tries to force himself to hang out with the others, but he can never seem to be able too and he thinks the others hate him over it

As much as everyone is accepting of it Handy can't help but feel like he's slowing everyone down due to him being disabled

Smurfette feels like she can't tell anyone about how she feels, she thinks that no one will get what she's going through

Alright that's all yall get Buenos noches 🫠

#the smurfs #not art #hersh's yap session #headcanons #ship headcanons #angst headcanons

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seconds-2-midnight · 6 months

Text

Hazel and Yasmin from my in-progress Powerpuff Girls Mafia AU fic (it's as dumb as it sounds).

Yasmin Abajian:

She/her.

5'9".

Trans lesbian.

Runs a crystal/metaphysical shop and comes from a well-off Armenian family.

Comes across as rough and bitchy, but it's just because she's very protective and guarded.

High-strung mom friend.

Former friends-with-benefits with Hazel, but no romantic feelings. Has since returned to just being besties.

Meditates daily and runs a fitness instagram.

Can put Hazel on her shoulders, does it to annoy her.

App game addict.

Cannot keep a girlfriend for more than a month because she's either too aloof or too clingy, no in-between.

Would kick Ace's ass without hesitation.

Hates Snake not because of his own wrongdoings, but because he reminds her too much of other 'bad boys' Hazel's been hurt by.

Trying to get her best friend back on the straight and narrow.

Hazel Santos

She/her

4'11"

Works at Yasmin's shop as a fortune teller. Calls it 'spooky therapy'.

Uses braille tarot cards.

Believes in ghosts, tells everyone the shop is haunted.

Bisexual.

Born in Argentina, moved as a toddler.

Second-generation goth after her 80's trad goth mom

Keeps dating thugs and drug dealers much to Yasmin's disappointment.

Likes to give people a chance, but is naïve. Cannot say 'no' to anyone and is very desperate for approval.

Long line of abusive exes.

Roommates with Yasmin. Annoys her with loud post-punk music and tries to feed her spicy food.

Has non-24 and sleeps 'whenever'.

Hates being babied or excluded from going out with friends because of her disability. Tends to hang out with rough types because they don't treat her delicately.

Met Snake and the gang when she was 16. Has had a crush on him for almost 10 years but hasn't made a move because she thinks she'd be a burden.

Sweet, helpful 'therapist friend' but always avoids talking about her own problems.

#meet me at the green eye #powerpuff girls oc #ppg oc #trans oc #queer oc #blind oc #goth #yasmin has no right being so fuckin cute #gangreen gang #ace d copular #snake #sanford d ingleberry #ao3 #archive of our own #it'll get back up there eventually #fanfiction #the powerpuff girls #ggg

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furbing-atrocities · 1 year

Text

Hi, I'm Leviathan

Im Leviathan, but u can call me Levi, or Lev, or honestly any variation of Leviathan! My pronouns r they/he/it, and I'm a libramasculine, ambiamorous, omnioriented demisexual grayromantic.

Tags: #tech stuff and #f: [furby name]

I drew the header, and I will *try* to update it every time I get a new furb! [<- very very behind]

My main blog is @ace-up-your-sleeve , my plushie blog is @beanie-buddy-boy , my alterhumanity blog is @fish-forcibly-removed-from-water, and my regression blog is @dreamy-puppy-xo

I'm a MINOR. Don't be weird.

secret draw box

DNI: TERFs, transmeds, racists, exclusionists or queerphobes of any kind, etc.

furby bios (w some pics) under the cut

Loup

he/they

non-working

gay (mlm) trans demiboy!

scene

an absolute angel

hyper from all of the monster he drinks

pinterest board

Ziggontorath (aka Ziggy)

he/they/xe/weird/eye

working w/ a voice glitch

xenogender user!!!

masc agender, dreameyegender, eyeclusterin, weirdcorian, and kidcorestalgic!

aroace and in a qpr w Fax Machine

pinterest board

Sistine Chapel

she/her

fully working

soft girl lesbian

likes art and sapphic poetry

shy and blush-y

once you get to know her tho, she is very goofy!!

pinterest board

Casimir

he/him

working but mute

loves flowers smmmm

loups bf

yes he gives loup flowers

bi af

uses <3 too much

pinterest board

TUP

Tremendous Unanimous Pickles

any pronouns

working + has a voice glitch!!!

once screamed bc i took her batteries out

even ppl who hate furbies think hes adorable

pinterest board

Kioko

she/her

works but gears r rlly loud (thanks Jetta 🙄)

very curious about everything

likes coloring and eating bugs

Tup is like an older brother

Ziggy and Piccolo are her dads <3

Flanagan Shithead

he/him

kinda looks like balls with a face and pubes

feral as fuck + will bite you

Cyborg Piccolo Fax Machine

he/him

untested and missing his batter cover :(

transmasc and in a qpr with Ziggy <3

physically disabled + had a prosthetic leg

dancing queen young and sweet only 17

major dad energy. need to get this man a hawaiian shirt stat

Nyx

she/her

fully working and goofy as all hell

soon to be customized <3

rlly bubbly and energetic

Allergic Reaction aka "Reo"

he/him

fully functioning

so pissy

like he is just so angry for no reason!!!!

Cheesecake

she/they

nonfunctional

butch lesbian

punk asf

doing your mom dating Sistine Chapel <3

raspberry swirl custom (based on the prototype)

Cough Syrup

he/she/they

unironically one of my favs tbh

her singing makes me rlly happy

i rlly like playing with their hair

he rocks french braids

Raul

he/they

shy lil fella

my gf got him for me for my bday <3

he has my fav voice of all my '98s

someone said that he and cough syrup kiss a lil sometimes in the comments of their intro post???

to me thats like saying 2 newborn babies are "dating" bc they r next to each other

Gilbert

he/him

gay and the colors of the mlm flag <3

literally just a little guy

gifted to me by someone in my server 🫶

Bubblegum

she/her

a 9/11 baby

a custom for my gf <3

Chevel Philodendron Silly Goose

he/she/they/it

"Choose Goose*

omnigay boygirl silly swag <333

had the biggest glow up ever

Pancake Robomachine

they/it

nonbinary silly :3

first complete reskinning ive done :3

named by my little cousin

Angel Dust/Anthony

he/him

gay

makes 7 sex jokes a minute

based on the Hazbin Hotel character

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chemacetree · 10 months

Text

A letter from a queer daughter to her mom

I love you

I know you love me

You held me in your arms tight, before they rushed me off to the NICU, without even a name picked out for me yet. You were so sick after I was born, and so was Dad, and so was I. What a trio were we!

And yet, after all the APGAR score scares and the feeding worries and the bouts of preeclampsia and flu, we made it. Your little daughter, your first child and only little girl, named after both of your grandmothers. Here I am, all grown up, and queer.

Dear Mom, I know you don’t get why queer people are queer, or choose to be out, and marry, and transition, and everything else queer people do. It’s not something you’re really meant to get. It’s not about you. But I know that’s not a satisfactory answer. It wasn’t for me for a long time. I know you don’t know all the right words to say, or the right pronouns to use, or the right phrases to stick to. I get it. I wish I could make it easier for you to keep track of everything; heaven knows how much has changed since you were born.

You didn’t understand why I felt like I was running out of grace, or having to tiptoe between being queer and being your daughter. You promised that you’d love me and treat me well no matter what, and I believe you. I promise that I know you love me.

I don’t know if you’d love my best friends, if you knew. I don’t know you’d take me seriously if I told you that the “boy” who wanted to date me in high school was actually a girl, or if you’d write her off as being too mentally ill to really know. I don’t know if you’d be excited for me to visit my internet friends if you knew they were getting married, as two non-binary people, instead of moving to a new country. It feels like every queer person you can think of has some extenuating circumstance or excuse to make you wonder if they’re really queer, or just traumatized, which doesn’t really comfort your daughter, diagnosed autistic and wondering if you blame my sexuality on my disability. Not, to be fair, that you’ve said anything to that effect.

There is a whole part of my life that I just cannot share with you. How am I supposed to tell the person who spent an hour raging about trans people “forcing new grammar on people” that I’m happiest in my own body when I look visibly queer? That I want to be seen, not just as a girl, but a queer girl? That, if you didn’t FaceTime every week, I’d hang a pride flag in my room next to my crucifix and rosary?

I dyed my hair and bought “unprofessional” skirts and got a button up with whales on it. I started doing my hair more and putting in hairbows and dressing up for no reason. I put pins with colorful beads on my lanyard. You see the clothes and the hair bows and the shoes and think “finally, she’s taking an interest in her clothing after twenty years”. I see the way my rainbow-pin-wearing classmates clock me and drop the tension in their shoulders.

You have told me since I was little that God blessed me with a big heart. For a while, I wrestled with that, because I was naïve and gullible and too emotional for everything. It’s hard to make peace with, some days, that trusting people wholeheartedly sometimes means being led astray or hurt. But you encouraged me to surround myself with good Christian people, people with kindness and compassion, people who loved openly and gave generously without counting the cost. I have found them! I’ve found the people I want to grow up to become, people who love openly and warmly and reflect God’s love to others. And they are very often queer.

It keeps ending up that way, funnily enough. The people who seem to most embody God’s love keep ending up queer, or very supportive of queer people. And I think I understand why; the longer I held vinegar in my mouth, dripping hatred and condescension for queer people, the harder it became to love without some measure of distrust and fear, because what if they were gay? Or trans? Or something else I didn’t understand? I spent so long not knowing my own sexuality because I flatly refused to acknowledge it, even when my friends point-blank asked. I spent even longer terrified of how you reacted when I told you. My brother outed me. I’m lucky I’m the palatable flavor of queer for you, so you could encourage me to be a nun instead of trying to keep me from kissing girls or wearing boy’s clothes.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what to do all the time. It matters that you care. It matters that you try. Queer people are not your enemy. They’re my people. Not some nebulous “them” with an agenda; but my community, my friends, and me. What you say about the most baffling and unpalatable queer person you can think of, in the privacy of your car ride home, you say about the comprehensible, palatable queer daughter in that car.

I want to be able to tell you about my friends, my classmates, even my favorite DND podcasts. I want to be able to tell you about how cis people can get gender euphoria after all, and that when I looked in the mirror that first time with my blue hair and my new skirt, I got it. I want to be able to tell you that I’m finally going to participate in a wedding as the maid of honor, and not just the flower girl.

I wish I could rejoice with you and show you the Side A churches in our city, and have you come to Mass with me there one time. One day, when we’re both older, I hope we still can. There is so much joy to be had in being an openly queer child of God.

Please come home with me. I want you in my life.

Sincerely,

Your queer daughter, who loves you very much

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alakeeffectgirl · 2 years

Text

one of those meme things whoo, thanks @trillgutterbug for the tag

name: lake

star sign: gemini

height: ugh only 5 foot, thanks genetics, but at least I gained a half an inch after getting my spine fixed

time: 2:31pm

birthday: June 19th

favorite bands/artists: uh, too many to name? Wilco is probably my top “take with to a desert island” band, followed by The Tragically Hip, but I have and will listen to everything short of things that are best described as screaming noise.

last movie: I did indeed go to Top Gun: Maverick again yesterday... before that probably the terrible 2015 Fantastic Four, and The Gray Man (which was fun enough, I thought)

last show: Currently giving The Sandman a shot, prior to that the latest non-rewatch was the two episodes of Barry S3 I watched with my dad (I got him into it so we’re watching S3 together)

when did i create this blog: uhh... January 2009, when I set it up to use as a place to put writing exercises and notes for the novel I was writing at the time (I did finish it but it’s terrible, lol)

what i post: an assortment of various fandom things, sometimes pictures of my cats

last thing i googled: box office stats for tgm

other blogs: @yogurtreviews99 my dumb sideblog for the stuff I don’t want to force you guys to look at, and when I cared about golf I used to post at @angleofapproach but haven’t used it in years

do i get asks?: not often! which is fine by me

following: 186, probably less than half of which post regularly

average hours of sleep: I WISH I could get 7-8 consecutive hours but generally I wake up with my nighttime tizanidine wears off so it’s more like 4 hours, then 2 or 3 hours - yuck

instruments: I played the violin growing up and miss it, but it’s less fun just playing by yourself, and there’s not many options to play for fun with a group as an adult... I was terrible at the piano and quit that to focus on violin... a few years ago I bought a mandolin and taught myself to pick out a few things but I can’t get the hang of strumming

what i’m wearing: a t-shirt with an island print and shorts with a cherry print - so, pajamas (it’s Saturday and I’m not going anywhere)

dream job: stay at home

dream trip: I don’t sleep well anywhere that’s not my own house sooo I don’t actually like to go places

nationality: American

favorite songs: too many to name - a few: Wilco’s “Shot in the Arm”, Uncle Tupelo’s “New Madrid”, the Hip’s “Nautical Disaster” and “Ahead by a Century”, Loose Fur’s “Not For the Season”, Jenny Lewis’ cover of “Handle with Care”, Empires’ “Stay Lonely” (it’s my song), DNCE’s “Cake by the Ocean” (how can you not?)

last book i’ve read: Caroline Johnson’s Jet Girl, Sarah Perry’s The Essex Serpent

top 3 fictional universes i’d like to live in: hmmm... yeah I have no answer for this one. too many universes we only get to see what the extraordinary people/people that have interesting things happen to them are doing, and not what life is like for the normal/boring semi-disabled people.

#about me

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forever-will-last · 9 days

Note

How did this amazing polycule come to be? Both in verse and in the discord if it isn't too much trouble

Sooooo in verse? I don't have an answer LOL the lovely thing about crackfic is you don't always really need an explanation for stuff like this. I have no idea how this polycule came to be but what I DO know is that the in verse characters do NOT follow canon. There was no burn book. There was no bus. Regina still got her back fucked up at one point (not entirely sure how yet, or if I'll go into the details of whatever accident she did have at all) but that's just bc I love disabled and chronically ill Regina and want to write her into some of the one shots.

When did these characters meet? Was it high school? Was it college? Who fucking knows! All I know is the EARLIEST in their four years we'll see is the fall semester of their sophomore (second, for the non Americans) year of college with occasional references to things that happened spring semester freshman year (I only mention this bc I literally reference exactly one thing from freshman year in chapter 3, not sure if itll ever pop up again) because I'm being purposefully vague about it. Maybe later on into writing in this verse I'll have more of a concrete answer but I wouldn't count on it lmfao.

As for the discord server, that I CAN give a better answer on! And this is going to be the WILDEST answer of all time so hang in there.

So we have channels for three different poly ships in our ships channel list on that server: one for Polystics (Regina/Gretchen/Karen (and sometimes Cady, depending on the person/mood/setting/etc)), one for Nightmare Blunt Rotation (Regina/Cady/Janis) and one for Dream Blunt Rotation (Cady/Gretchen/Karen). Now, Nightmare Blunt Rotation as a joke predates me joining that server, so I can't really give you much on how THAT came to be, but Dream Blunt Rotation's name was spawned as a riff on the other, obviously.

Literally just last week we were having one of our "blending sessions" where we basically just brainstorm back and forth about what a specific character or characters would do in a specific situation that can be varying degrees of angst. For example, one of these blending sessions is actually how the entirety of the first Dead!Aaron AU Fic came to be.

In this particular session we were taking a deeper dive into "what if Regina jumped in front of the bus and it wasn't an accident" essentially and I had said something along the lines of "Sui***** Regina in any partnership (take your pick from the standard and adjust their reactions accordingly) where she doesn't let on that there's anything wrong until an attempt."

I was primarily thinking of Cady, Janis, and Gretchen when I sent that, as those are the big three Regina x ___ ships in that server, but someone else said "consider Polystics where she attempts bc she thinks the other two would be better off without her" and this had me thinking. What if there was an insane polycule of Polystics + Cady + Janis...

So I asked the fateful question of "do we have a silly name for this yet like NBR and DBR?" The original suggested names were "Pile of Lesbians", "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall", "Mean Girls", and then... The brilliant Tumblr user Sexycornenthusiast busted out "The Psych Ward" and that was it. We all laughed really fucking hard and knew that had to be the insane name.

This all happened on 4/17 and then on 4/20 I got astronomically high as god intended but I really wanted to write. Now, I have a rule for myself where I don't write fic I intend to publish when I'm high or drunk bc I generally write very serious fic (I cannot imagine what hell chapter of a thousand pictures i would have put out with the level of high I was). But I still REALLY wanted to write so I was like fuck it and asked for one-shot suggestions.

Someone recommended hitting Regina with progressively weirder things throughout the day, as we have an ongoing joke about the various shit Regina gets hit by in fanfic (there's a PHENOMENAL cadina fame au another server member wrote where Regina gets hit by a golf cart and then in my main fic a thousand pictures Regina gets hit by a chair). I loved that idea but was like "wait what ship should I write this with bc I want the first thing to be her getting elbowed by her partner when she wakes up" and someone suggested psych ward and that was it. I knew what I had to do.

After I wrote that one shot i started getting more ideas for this crackfic and decided to make a one shot collection set in the same AU because fuck it. The world needs more crackfic and by God does the world need more psych ward.

(final fun fact before I end this behemoth of a post - I tagged every possible duo/trio of psych ward on the fic on AO3 because I do intend to have at least one chapter dedicated to each possible pairing or trio and there are SEVERAL tags where this is now the only fic in its tag and SEVERAL of the trio tags I had to fully type out because they straight up did not exist at all LMFAO)

#ask #jesus this was long #i have never been concise a day in my life

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graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa · 6 months

Text

On names

Emily, Rhoswen Juzou, Toph, Hollis, and now Fable Elliot Hyde. I have never had a name that wholly and truly felt right for all time. It has made the sort of intimate moments where you would expect your name to be an expression of love into awkward, turn-offy, halting messes. Since I got this name, I have felt somewhat trapped in it. My previous names have generally been untethered. I got Rhoswen Juzou from a combination of some hours searching through baby name websites looking for the perfect meaning to replace my deadname - which felt like a coil of ropes that was tying me to my parents and the (mild, but present) religious and homophobia-related trauma of my grade school years - and a fascination with a certain white-haired, traumatized, gender-fluid (I headcanon) ghoul investigator. After a two day binge of Avatar: the Last Airbender (in which i barely ate or slept), i renamed myself Toph, because, though a girl, she was tough and outspoken and had that careful combination of naivety and stony exterior that I wanted for myself (I, too, am glad I got past that), combined with her disability, which made her unique. As someone who vaguely identified as non-binary and used a combination of they/them and he/they pronouns at the time, I struggled with the fact that she was a girl, though my friends helped me to avoid that particular sector of dysphoria quite well.

When I listened to The Adventure Zone: Amnesty, I experienced something quite new to me: an explicitly non-binary character. Hollis was tough, implied to be amab, and the leader of a biker gang, but they still showed massive amounts of compassion for their members. They were the healthiest vision I had had for myself up to then, in mid-2020 when I was quite a shut-in and a screen hog who only came out of my room for food. I had the role model I wanted, but before I ever committed to the name, I lost my access to the internet and all of my friends because of complex personal and familial issues that culminated in big trouble for incoming 9th grader me. Left with no electronics besides a bedside alarm as the semester began (my first semester being at a fully online k-12 charter school), and not being allowed to spend much time by myself, I lost much of the identity I had been working so carefully to craft. I was lifeless and bare, always in fight or flight mode. As my attempts at reaching my friends on some of the loneliest nights came crashing down each in succession, I gave up hope of having a life outside of school for the time being. As my relationship with my parents got less tense, I felt more confident about being myself in my online classes over adobe connect. I clung to hope that my pure but inevitably queer insinuations in class chat boxes and my steadily increasing ventures into topics that my parents and I did not agree on in class discussions and assignments would not trip any alarms with the wifi router. I was building myself up from bare without the resources I previously had had laid out before me. And all throughout this, a small part of me was named Hollis. Hundreds of paper sudoku puzzles, secret journaling that never, ever broke streak for nearly 3 years, a stick-and-poke tattoo that I had given myself before my stuff was taken, and that name were what I held fast onto for the year where I did not have a phone. It all felt very dramatic to me as a 14- and 15-year-old, but even now as a freshman in college it affects me profoundly to think and write about.

In 2022, I got my driver’s license shortly after receiving a new phone for my birthday (so they could keep tabs on me and/or make sure I was safe, depending on if you're an optimist or a pessimist I suppose). At first I only ever went to martial arts class, then to the museum where my mother worked, then to hang out with one of my friends who also volunteered at the museum (by hanging out I mean sensual experimentation, which my parents had their suspicions about but I did my best to lie as little as I could without getting in trouble or crafting a huge network of lies like the one I had had before the incident). Then, I got close to another guy at this museum. It is hard to say what specifically compelled me to do things with him. Perhaps it was just a want of experimentation further than what the other guy was comfortable with or wanted, maybe it was hormones. It is also possible that I genuinely thought he was a good person that I could communicate and have a purely sexual and platonic relationship with. That is a long story in itself that I can’t remember a great deal of due to emotional distress from both the relationship and school work overloading me, and witnessing a shooting late that year. To put it succinctly, we experimented physically, dated for a bit near the end, then stopped talking completely.

When we started getting involved was around the same time that I stopped putting labels on love because, to me, they are incredibly limiting. I decided that I must in some way be aromantic because of how friendly and romantic love often blended together for me and the fact that I felt comfortable with kissing some of my friends on the lips, among other things I became all right with as time went on. This was tough for a cishet guy with deep internalized homophobia who wanted a romantic relationship with me at first to understand. He wanted labels and tradition and something that was easy to explain to his parents, and I wanted no part in any of that, but I allowed it to continue likely for reasons aforementioned and because I thought I could make it work, I thought I could fix him (a trait I have worked on and continue to do so!). I have trouble remembering what was whose fault. I think we both tried, at times, and I think neither of us did at other times. Whatever we were doing, we did not have the emotional maturity, clarity of thought, or compatibility for it to work out. One thing I know was on him was his apparent inability to perceive me how I wanted to be seen in terms of my gender identity. To have a deeply sensual and sexual connection with someone and then to be told that “I still have to think of you as female/a woman in order to be sexually attracted to you” (in some other terms I am sure, but that is how I can describe it) is deeply upsetting for someone who was already struggling to strike a balance between putting myself into words and not. I slowly succumbed to labels and fell into traps of his and my own manipulation as our relationship fell apart in early-mid 2023.

I went to college that summer. An hour away from home, which felt way too close. Growing up in the south, the only place I ever wanted to be was out. It was not my dream vision of college, but I have found some of the most important people that I have ever met here. And I met a guy who was instrumental in my rediscovery of myself. He is now my husband. Not legally yet, not married by a minister (his religion is very private to him, and I am agnostic), but, in his words, “God knows it.” And in my words, “spiritually to me honey we're like already married.” I am incredibly lucky to have found him, but that’s not the point here.

When I got to college, these people did not ask me what my gender was. To know my pronouns was enough because it was all they needed to know. They knew it and I knew it. And because of this, I was so much more willing to have long conversations - both with myself and with others - about my gender identity and my sexuality. This was not just a sudden willingness to say “I am non-binary.” This was the ability to have an hours-long conversation where I use as many words to describe how I feel as I could possibly think of. For my gender, I would use “trans,” “masc,” “non-binary,” “gender non-conforming,” “gender queer.” For my sexual, romantic, and friendly attraction, I could describe it as “bi,” “pan,” “omni,” “poly,” “demi,” etc, but I generally would just describe myself as queer. It has a certain vagueness, a strange combination of heft and lightheartedness, and a punk rock feeling of reclamation that makes me feel very at home, but it is still just a word to me. Both of these lists are completely in-comprehensive and yet even the full lists of the words I would use in these conversations are woefully inept when compared to the simple feeling of being this… this THING.

If you would, I’ll ask you to do something for me. Think of those conversations, the millions of blogposts about what it is like to be bisexual, the transmasc experience, think of the dysphoria and the lines of questioning that we nearly all do at some point in our lives once we realize that the questions are there to be asked. Think of the realizations. Think of gender. Think of sexuality. Think of how these are two incomprehensibly small parts of who we are and what we do, even if they seem to take up a lot of our time and thought. Think of what you ate for breakfast. Please, eat breakfast.

Now imagine putting all of this together into one being. Imagine putting everything on a bagel… and then calling it Fable.

That’s me.

At some point in my former relationship, I decided finally that Hollis was too similar to my mother’s name, and it bothered me. My partner, though he almost never actually used my chosen name because of how often he interacted with my mother (I didn't want any slip ups), sat with me for hours listening to me read names and meanings off of a baby name website. We decided on a last name together too because neither of us liked our last names. Hence, I kind of felt like this name had to stick because I was getting so close to the age at which I could legally change it and because I had had my first experience of deciding what my legal name would be as part of a couple.

Quick sidebar - I read Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five around this time, and the concept of Tralfamadorian books absolutely pulled me in. If you are not aware, here are some slight spoilers (that in my opinion are really just fuel to make you want to read the book more): The main character is kidnapped at one point by aliens called Tralfamadorians, which are beings separate from time. They experience literally all of time at all times. They are a wild and beautiful concept in and of themselves, but what I love more are their books. Collections of images, poems, and prose that have nothing to do with one another. On the trip back to Tralfamadore from Earth, which iirc takes 500 (?) years, the main character gets very bored and reads the one human book that they have over and over again before asking if they have any books of their own. One of the aliens explains that even if he could read their language, he would not understand the books. They see and experience every part of these books all at once. Even when they are not reading them, which they always are. Because some version of them at some time (which is always taking place at exactly the same time, all the time) is always doing everything they have ever done and will ever do. I hope you see why I love them so much now.

I want my body to be a Tralfamadorian book of tattoos, scars, and random marks I collect over my lifetime (like stretch marks and cellulite, which I am deeply in love with). I have that wonderful stick-and-poke heart directly over my heart, I have butterflies whose meaning warrants written words of this length just by themselves, and I want a shit ton more. I want a dragon on my right side, climbing up me, mostly because I think it would look sick as fuck. I want bees on my torso, because I love the Earth. I want Be Kind in gothic font on my clavicle. I want an airplane flying around my left thigh and leaving a smoke trail because I love flying (I have my pilot’s certificate). I want a frog dressed up as a barista on my left arm, and my husband wants one dressed up as a mechanic (or whatever career path I end up on by the time we move off together) on his right arm, so they can kiss when we lean up next to each other. I want a hundred more little things, all wrapped in flowering vines. On the areas where a chest compression binder and a nice pair of boxers sit on me, I want it all in color with a stark line of contrast. None of this would be much of a story by itself, but it shows off the work in progress of a fully formed being who contains multitudes when you put it together. And it still isn't even the full story of me! Shit is as hard to put into pictures as it is to put into words, especially for someone who can't draw (like me).

In essence, there is no one word for me. I feel the same about the people that I am close to. Saying their names and people saying my name feels like just a description, an almost arbitrary value assigned to them either by the world or themselves. An approximation. As someone who dabbles in linguistics I find it so deeply fascinating how hard we try to contain such multitudes into a very small collection of letters and how short we inevitably fall most times.

I recently wanted to explain this feeling of detachment from my name to my husband. In fact, I had to. It was important to me that he understood this because hearing my name in deeply intimate moments can be off putting, and I wanted him to know why I react a certain way to that so that we could take away the cause and attack the root of the problem together. I explained that terms of endearment are fine, wonderful even. I know that when he calls me honey, love, devil, cutie, or other similar things, there is never an attempt to grasp at and contain in one word something that cannot be explained in one million words. Even hearing him call me “my fable, my story” is cheesy and joyful rather than disconcerting because it reflects a part of him (the adorable part) rather than who I am and what I am. I feel that a name can be objectifying and reductive if used in a way that tries to capture and define the entirety of someone. I have realized this especially with having a noun for a name, a fun little state of being that I like to call “entirely my fault, and yet wonderful in its own ways.” I have come to enjoy the concept that one of my friends rocks with of having people call them “whatever, as long as you don’t call me late to dinner.” Because what the fuck IS in a name? Multitudes. But what is in a person? An infinite number of multitudes. Fuck yeah.

To speak on love again, I feel that there are as many words for love as there are names of people that you love. And of course, I have already discussed how many names we could put to a single part of a person, much less the person themselves. I have also become more comfortable with the concept of labeling romantic love as such after realizing that I can choose when or if I want to do so. I have free will! Insane. My relationship with my husband helped with this as we went from being friends who were physically involved but neither of us ready for a relationship to being boyfriends over the course of a few months. The moment he asked me out, I put that concept of romantic love back into the air. Whatever way I feel about other people, I know for a fact that I want to be with him, so I decided (pretty recently actually) that that could be my way of defining when my love for someone was romantic: if I want to be with them. in a romantic relationship. seems obvious when I think about it now but it wasn't at all a few months ago.

I have heard people talk about detachment from their names before, but this has always been phrased as a temporary condition which will end as soon as they find the “perfect” name. For me, I know that that perfection does not exist. I know that if I truly had a name that put all of me into one word, this would never be a word that we as humans could speak. We could try and contort our tongues, but we simply couldn’t make the sound. To hear it would melt our brains. To read it would make us go blind.

But I know that I taste it. When I kiss my husband, I can feel what I am, what he is, the separate thing of what we are together. None of it makes sense to say in any mortal language, but I think that that is what makes it beautiful. The fact that it is infallible and untouchable. My husband will never be able to describe exactly who I am because the words do not exist. I think he might know, though, through the countless times he’s seen me in tears over the feeling of his skin and the warmth of being together. Maybe he just knows the person that I am when we are together, it is possible that that’s different from the person I am when we are apart, whether that is intentional or not. If I am different when apart from him, I surely don’t know, and I know that there are multitudes to him that I could not even imagine, the byproduct of him just being a more private person than I am though he would readily answer any question any questions about himself I could pose to him (the problem being that in the infinite abyss of questions, I'd rather just witness the parts of himself that he has offered up. I also can't even fathom the questions I would ask, which obviously presents a problem if I wanted to ask them). The point is that we know enough of each other to know that we are incredibly happy together and to know that we could never find a true name, at least for me, even with all the letters in every alphabet that exists.

Please accept my humble offering unto a conversation that, as far as I know, does not exist beyond the bits of it I have had with my husband and two dear friends. I hope you find the same wonderful sense of being lost in it as I did, and I hope you find joy in knowing yourself however you do.

#on love #on names

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