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sappy-seresin · 1 year

Text

Fawn (B. Bradshaw)

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader

Warning: hints at domestic abuse, hints at toxic relations, mentions of injury, angst, light cursing.

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is enamored by the Hard Deck's newest waitress. Taking notice of a shift in your demeanor, he finds himself wanting to get to the bottom of your newfound skittishness.

Series Theme Song: I’ll Be Around by Garrett Kato

Word Count: 5.8k

A/n: MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ELSEWHERE, especially without consent. Do not steal the work of other writers, thank you.

Gif creds: @mads-weasley

You've always carried yourself with elegant poise, your shoulders high with delicate confidence as you strut your way through life. That’s the first thing Bradley noticed about you, and he’s continued appreciating further the more your presence sealed itself into his life. You’ve been working at the Hard Deck for nearly six months now, and subsequently have earned yourself a space in the Dagger Squad friend group, without being a naval officer. Your space in their lives is a lot like Penny’s, other than the fact that you’re a few years younger than all of them. That fact has had all of them feeling protective over you in their own merit. Each of them have done their fair share of looking out for you, always stepping in when someone was heckling you at the bar or pulling you into the groups antics when you seemed overwhelmed on a busy night. Penny always watches from afar, glad to see you smiling among her favorite squadron.

Admittedly, Bradley loves how easily you melted into the group, and appreciates that everyone seems to care about you nearly as much as he does. He’d never admit it out loud, but you’re the first person he looks for when he enters the Hard Deck. His eyes automatically manage to plant themselves wherever you are when he walks in, an elegant smile taking over his face at the simplest sight of you. You always return the gesture, making a point to pour his drink before he even has the chance to order.

Recently though, your poise has dimmed. Your smiles never quite reaching your eyes when you cater to the aviators beck and call. Bradley attributed the change as stress, at first. The summer months are some of the busiest at the bar and it's your first time experiencing this level of rush. The moment he started picking up on your newfound skittishness, he couldn't shake the feeling that there's more going on than being overworked.

Your confidence is now sporadic, fleeting as you jump at loud noises and sudden movements, always playing it off with a lighthearted joke when any of them question it. He notices the way your smiles falter as soon as the groups focus shifts elsewhere, the facade slipping away when you're sure no one's watching. Yet, Bradley always is, unbeknownst to you, watching your every move. He catches every time you gulp to gain composure and the way your knuckles flash white with how hard you grip your tray after being jostled by a passing customer.

Tonight's no different as Bradley's kept his eyes trained on you from the moment he walked in. He watches you slip through the room in a fawn-like state, doe-eyes jumping around the room as you fade in and out of the shadows. Unlike your old, confident self that always managed to light up the typically muggy space.

“What’s got you lost in thought, Rooster?” Natasha’s voice cuts through his staring, pulling his attention from where you’re delivering drinks across the bar. He glances at her and Bob, who’re both staring back at him curiously.

“Does she seem off to you?” He asks simply, letting his eyes trickle back to you. Natasha’s eyebrows knit together before she follows his gaze, realization filling her immediately.

“Y/n?” She thinks out loud, accepting Bradley’s curt nod as a yes. “I mean, sure. I've noticed she’s been a little more skittish and accident prone than usual lately. What about it?"

Bradley shrugs, sipping his drink, not wanting to overshare a story that isn't his. Though, his mind flashes to the last time you'd spoken, affirming that he'd been right about foul play behind the scenes. Even after you forced another lie to keep yourself from admitting the truth to him in the bar just days ago. "I just feel like something isn't right." They fall into silence, Bob and Natasha accompanying Bradley in watching you. Each searching for any signs of foul play, or make any observation that could give insight on what's going on. The truth is, Bradley knows something isn't right. You confirmed his suspicions three days ago, though you refused to vocalize that he's right.

With his eyes trained on you, Bradley recounts the times you've proven to be 'accident prone' the past several weeks. Wonder fills his brain at memories of you brushing off seemingly small injuries as if they were normal, though you'd barely gotten a scratch in the previous months he'd known you. Bradley's mind flashes to the first time he questioned an injury, his eyes fixated on the soft wrap adorning your wrist as you wiped the counter nearly a month and a half ago. His hand clenches around his drink as he's now able to pinpoint your cover stories, though he has yet to figure out the culprit behind you fabricating those stories.

“What happened there?” Bradley asked, gesturing towards your bandaged hand. His eyes raking over you while you blinked at him for a second, letting a sheepish grin meet your lips.

“Oh this?” You joked, raising your hand absentmindedly. “It’s nothing really. I slipped during a game of one on one and caught myself weird. It looks worse than it is, doc says I need to be in the brace for a few weeks so it’ll heal.” Your voice was light and bubbly, but something in your eyes had Bradley unconvinced that your story was factual.

He took a swig of his beer, clearing his throat as he met your eyes again. Opting not to question you, he smiled. “I guess you need to work on your game.” The gentle laugh you released sent shivers down his spine as he watched you.

“I guess I do,” you agreed, topping him off with another beer before leaving to serve another customer without looking back.

He recounts the second time now. He caught you wincing when you bent down to grab a fresh case of beer you were moving to the back. your tight intake of breath had Bradley feeling uneasy.

“You alright, Darlin’,” his voice showcased the concern he’d been feeling. You grimaced at him, gladly accepting the hand he offered to help you up.

“Yeah,” you breathed, discomfort evident when the case slid against your rib cage. “I tweaked a muscle at the gym last night. Just a bit sore is all.” Your cheeks tinted pink at the twinkle in his eye with all his attention solely focused on you. He pushed himself from his position at the bar, inserting himself behind the counter before lifting the case from your grasp with ease. Your sheepishness grew when he leaned to brush past you, grab the last case before glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Where do you need this?” You gaped at him for a moment, not expecting him to do the work for you, but collected yourself quickly. Leading him to the back instead of responding.

“Here’s perfect,” you told him, gesturing where the other cases were already stacked. He obliged, putting the cases in their designated spot, shooting you a content smile. “Thanks for doing that.”

“Not a problem, darlin’,” he waved off, knowing fully well he’d move a thousand more cases if you needed him to. You blushed again, the gesture melting his heart in the same way it does every time it graces your cheeks.

“Well, I appreciate it,” you reached out to squeeze his arm, the movement making the sleeve of your t-shirt slide up in the slightest. Bradley swears he saw a finger-shaped bruise peeking out just below the worn fabric. He eyes flickering back to your face quickly to keep you from noticing he’d seen anything. “My tweaked muscles do too.”

His mouth felt dry as he studied you, mind reeling about what's hiding behind the inconspicuous lie. Your hand dropped when his grin faltered, suddenly worried that you'd made him uncomfortable.

“I guess you need to work on your form,” he knew he was wearing his emotions on his face, though his tone remained intentionally light. Though he wanted to inspect the blemishes hiding under your sleeve, he knew it wasn’t his place. Mentally though, he pulled you against his chest and gently assured you that he’ll protect you from whoever gave you those bruises.

Your face dropped at his words, hands fidgeting against the fabric of your jeans. “I guess I do,” you agreed, deja’vu hitting you after repeating the words you'd spoken to him weeks prior. You hesitated, realizing that his subtle repetition means that, to a certain degree, he knows your explanations don’t match the truth. The thought of him not believing you made the room shrink around you, blurring Bradley’s figure with the anxiety of him finding out. “I should get back to the bar.” Though you were talking to him, the statement seemed to be whispered to no one before you brushed past him with a forced smile.

The last time he questioned you was just three days ago, and the memory of the sight of you has his hand strangling his glass, his blood boiling when he catches sight of your split lip from across the bar.

He'd been dismayed by the fact that you were, not so subtly, ignoring everyone in the squad that night. He noticed how you always kept your back towards them, sending another server to their table whenever they tried flagging you down. He lost sight of you for awhile, though his eyes never stopped scanning the room, hoping to pinpoint your figure assisting customers somewhere in the crowded room. He thought you left after ten minutes of gruel searching. The belief had his shoulders feeling heavy, his mind reeling with questions as to why you'd been silently swerving everyone all night.

His attempts to find you were forgotten as he came to terms with the fact that you didn't want to be found. Until he excused himself to go to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect himself to escape the thoughts of you.

The plan averted the second he gripped the bathroom door handle, the thick wood flung open before he'd even had a chance to pull. A string of apologies left your lips before you froze, realizing that Bradley was the one you'd nearly taken out with the door.

"Y/n, what-" His words caught in his throat after getting a good look at your face. You gaped at him like a deer caught in headlights, showcasing a bruised cheek and split lip that had him prepared to blow a gasket. His expression tightened as he scanned over the rest of you for anymore blemishes, though there wasn't anything else out of the ordinary. You let the door close with a soft 'smack' unable to cover your stunned demeanor. "What happened to your face?" He cut straight to the point, itching to find the "someone" that hurt you.

You opened your mouth to speak but he waved his hand to stop you.

"Another basketball game or a mishap in the gym?" A gentle sarcasm graced his voice, his eyes indicating that you can't get out of this one without telling the truth. His reference back to your past excuses made your hands shake anxiously.

You blinked at him, pointing a pleading look in his direction. Knowing he wasn't going to drop it, your shoulders deflated, though you weren't ready to accept defeat just yet. Lifting your head high, you wiped the shock from your face and replaced it with tenacity.

"Nasty spill while surfing yesterday," you quipped, no evidence of hesitation in your tone as you blatantly lied through your teeth. You hoped he would respond in the same way he had the last two times you found yourself in these subtle moments of confrontation. Wanting him to crack a lighthearted joke about working on your drop-in's, but you knew he wouldn't so you continued. "My board smacked me right in the face before I could stop it."

He sighed in frustration, ripping at his neat curls before dropping his hand again. You flinched in surprise, unknowingly giving him more belief that his suspicions were right. "Now you're just blatantly lying to me," he sighed, relaxing his face so you could see the sadness in his eyes. "Y/n, if someone's hurting you, I need you to tell me. You don't have to manage this on your own, and honestly, I hate that you don't feel like you can trust me. Let me help you."

"There's nothing for you to help with," you immediately insisted, though your teary eyes told him a different narrative. "I'm just clumsy is all." There was deep conviction weaved in your weak explanation, paired with an unwillingness to shed light on the truth. Which was that your boyfriend, Tanner has a short temper. His latest outburst being the cause of your battered surface and spirit.

"Y/n," Bradley pleaded, stepping closer to you, but you shuffled a step back.

"I have to get back," you rejected his advancement, brushing past him without another glance. He'd been frozen in defeat for the minutes following the chance encounter, staring in the direction you'd retreated with a heavy heart. Shaking himself off, he entered the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, hoping it was enough to rid his face of the worry lines wrinkling his forehead after speaking to you. Though he wanted to find you when he made his way back to the table, he forced himself to sit down, knowing you wouldn't speak to him about the topic and further.

The rest of the squad is seated at the table by the time Bradley's able to pull himself out of his head. Mickey tips his head at Bradley upon noticing he'd tuned back into the conversation for the first time since Mickey had sat down. Bradley musters a wink in Mickey's direction, bringing his cup to his lips to soothe the dryness of his throat, though his eyes subconsciously trickle over to you, mind reeling on how to get you to tell him the truth.

A loud crash sounds from across the bar awhile later, interrupting everyone’s attention away from the story Coyote was telling. Bradley had managed to distract himself from his thoughts enough to actually enjoy the night with the squad, periodically laughing as everyone spouts off ridiculous stories.

Bradley’s eyes flit over the room, expecting to find an old drunk struggling to pull themself off the ground, or maybe even the beginning stages of a brawl. What he doesn’t expect to find is you, standing frozen in place with your face resembling a ghosts. The second you squat down to begin picking glass up off the floor, Bradley’s moving to break the space to help you, eyes caught on the man towering over you with an infuriated expression.

“Where the hell have you been?” The man’s voice rings in Bradley’s ears once he’s close enough to hear. “I’ve been calling for four days, why haven’t you answered?”

“You broke my phone,” you snip. Your annoyed tone contradicts the trembling of your hands as they clumsily gather jagged shards into your hands. “I haven’t had the time to get a new one.”

“Everything okay, Y/n,” Bradley cuts in, sizing up the guy in front of him as you look at him for the first time in days. The man's got a few inches on Bradley, but he’s far from intimidating. The stranger clenches his jaw at the sight of him, his lips curving into an arrogant sneer as he puffs out his chest in Bradley's direction.

“Y/n’s fine,” he answers for you, balling his hands into tight fists. “Right, baby?” The nickname makes Bradley’s skin feel like it’s on fire due to the way it drips off the man’s tongue in a sickly sweet manner. Bradley's known you have a boyfriend for awhile. He was disappointed to find out after Hangman had jokingly tried his chances with you. Your admission of being taken was the sole hold up on him outing his feelings for you, but the sight of the guy shooting daggers at you makes his skin crawl. No man should look at his girl in the way this guy's looking at you.

Bradley watches your hesitant nod, your eyes barely ghosting over him as Penny slides a broom into your hand, helping you off the floor. You quietly thank her, gently assuring her that you’re okay, before returning your attention to cleaning the mess. Clearly wanting nothing more than for your boyfriend to be anywhere but here causing a scene. Penny observes the three of you, mentally weighing whether or not to respect your assurances that you have the situation under control. One nod from Bradley is enough for her to return to her spot behind the bar, assisting the few customers that aren't watching the altercation unfold.

Growing more irate with your lack of attention, the man takes a step toward you. "You want to look at me while I'm talking to you?" Bradley's blood boils at the malice directed at you, his instincts forcing him to step closer to you as well, ready to jump in if he tries to lay as much as a finger on you.

"Tanner, you need to leave. You can't just come in here, guns a-blazing, while I'm working and expect the conversation to go well while you're causing a scene," there's a waver to your voice when you say his name, your attempt to remain composed is only half effective when your eyes jump back to the floor after catching Tanner's icy appearance.

"Where the hell else am I supposed to find you when you're obviously doing everything in your power to avoid me," Tanner snaps, his face glowing red with anger. "I tried your apartment four times and you were never home. So, where the hell have you been?" You instinctively flinch when he raises his hand, shocking Bradley into registering that Tanner's the culprit to blame for your split lip and bruised cheek. Your reaction to him walking into the bar, and now flinching at his sudden movements, is enough affirmation of what Bradley previously suspected.

"Alright man, she told you to leave, so it's time for you to go," Bradley's speaking on autopilot now, stepping forward enough to place his hand on Tanner's chest to keep him from advancing any closer to you.

Tanner sneers at Bradley, his gaze falling to the hand planted on his chest. "I suggest you get your hands off me, before I make you," he snarls, shooting Bradley his best intimidating glare before contorting his face in understanding. "So that's what you've been doing the last few days." He backs out of Bradley's grasp, looking at you with a fake humored expression.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bradley's eyes follow your voice, noticing the way your eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

"You've been screwing him, haven't you," Tanner accuses pointing a finger at Bradley. "I've been looking all over town for you and you've been fooling around with this prick. Dude, you're wasting your time. She's not even worth it."

Bradley interrupts before you can discount Tanner's words, refusing to let this piece of garbage tarnish your character. "She's worth more than you can comprehend, clearly. I can assure you that she's not fooling around with me, or anyone else for that matter. I know her well enough to know that she wouldn't cheat, even if it's warranted for a guy like you."

"A guy like me," Tanner replays those words, emphasizing them while he gestures toward himself, feigning surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," Bradley quips, narrowing his brows. He's surprised when Tanner raises his eyebrows, urging him to voice his thoughts. "A guy that's dumb enough to lay a hand on a woman." You suck in a breath at the declaration, your eyes flying to watch Tanner's ego take a hit at the fact that he's been caught. You shudder, knowing full well that Tanner being caught means that your lies are out in the open now.

"My girl, my business," Tanner shrugs, "You're way out of line buddy, and I suggest you-"

“Do we have a problem here,” Bradley’s glad to hear Jake’s voice for once, some of the tension in his own chest alleviating at his colleagues authoritative tone. Jake stands tall as he positions himself in front of your shaken figure, his pointed gaze fixed solely on Tanner. He makes a point to flash his toned biceps by crossing his arms over his chest to add to his hard exterior, letting his eyes do plenty more talking while he sizes Tanner up.

“That’s up to him,” Bradley responds, nodding his head towards Tanner, who looks seconds away from throwing a punch.

“This is so like you, Y/n,” Tanner laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “Letting your friends save you from your own battles instead of handling them yourself like an adult. You get off on being the damsel in distress, don't you?” He's glaring at you over Jake's shoulder, seemingly unfazed by the aviator acting as a human shield.

"Y/n's more than capable of handling herself," Jake assures Tanner, tightening his expression. "But here at the Hard Deck, we have a strict "no harassing women" policy, and you're disrupting the peace." Jake's eyes fall on Reuben and Javy who are now on standby behind Tanner, prepared to restrain him if necessary. Reuben gives him a curt nod, winking at you for a little extra encouragement. They've got you covered. "Now, you have two options. You can either walk yourself out of the bar, and leave my friend Y/n here alone. Or, I'll drag you out and let Rooster have his way with you." Jake pauses again to give Tanner a second to process what he said. "I can assure you that only the former is going to end well for you."

"Now you're threatening me? You seriously think I'm afraid of a few boys in pansy ass navy uniforms?" Tanner's expression grows more manic with his incredulous words, unable to keep himself from chuckling in disbelief.

The response is enough to make Jake snap, his arms falling to his sides as he swiftly nods at Javy and Reuben as a cue for them to move. "Alright, parties over buddy." Tanner thrashes the second the men intercept him, easily dragging him towards the door.

"You bitch," Tanner shouts, eyes locked on you while he lamely tries freeing himself from their grasp. He has a clear shot of you now that Jake's not planted in front of you. Instead, he's trailing behind the three of them as a form of damage control if a last line of defense if necessary. "You'll pay for this."

Bradley shifts to dart in Tanner's direction, his slow burning anger transforming into full-blown rage at the mans threat toward you. Though, his movements freeze when a hand grasps his forearm, his fiery eyes meeting your tearful ones as the ruckus in the room fades from his ears. The room around him spirals out of focus with you being all that he sees as he struggles to refrain from ripping away from you to beat Tanner until he forgets your name.

Your touch is feathery while you blear at him. He swears he's going to light on fire until you utter the only request that could possibly cool him down. "Please, stay with me." Bradley immediately returns to a grounded state, the thoughts of giving Tanner a piece of his mind dimming while you wordlessly beg him not to leave you alone. "Please, Bradley." Those words are all it takes for him to break the space, shamelessly pulling you against his chest to shield you from anymore hurt. You fall against him in exhaustion, your hands fisting the soft Hawaiian button up he's wearing to give yourself more assurance that he's there.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs into your hair after a few moments of holding you. You're sniffling into his chest while the atmosphere of the bar returns to normal, the onlookers suddenly feeling wrong about watching you break in Bradley's embrace.

Bradley easily flags Penny down with an urgent look, grateful that she stops what she's doing to assist him. "I need to get her out of here," he informs her in a hushed voice once she's close enough to hear. She wordlessly nods in understanding, sadness crossing her features at the sight of you practically rattling in his arms. "The glass is all in one place and just needs to be thrown away."

"I've got it covered, go," she encourages him, noticing that the three who'd taken Tanner outside have yet to return. "I'll have Pete pull your truck around back so you don't have to worry about any confrontations."

"Thanks Penny," Bradley hums, making sure not to jostle you too much while passing his keys to her. You lift your head to thank her as well, mustering a delicate smile as she carefully squeezes your arm in reassurance.

"Take care of my girl, Rooster," she commands lightheartedly, but he picks up on the weight behind her statement.

"Of course," he breathes, running his hand up your back to get your attention. "Ready to go, darlin'?" You bob your head in response, itching to get out of the sticky bar after having far too much attention on you. The interaction with Tanner replays in the back of your mind while Bradley guides you toward the back door with his hand rested on the small of your back.

Pete already has the Bronco parked by the back door when you guys reach the exit. He pulls the door open just before Bradley's able to reach it, stepping aside to let you two pass before bowing his head at Bradley.

"Appreciate the help, Mav," Bradley affirms, which Pete just shrugs off as a silent way of telling Bradley it's the least he could do. Pete makes sure you're both in the car before walking back inside, sympathy overtaking him at the image of you deflating in your seat.

The car ride is comfortably silent outside of natural road noise. The fact that Bradley has no idea where you live dawned on you about ten minutes into the drive, but you don't bring yourself to ask where he's taking you. Preferring not to be anywhere that Tanner can find you.

Your friendship hasn't gone much farther than hanging out when he visits the bar, other than the few times Natasha invited you to meet everyone at her place when you got off. Oh, and the movie night everyone had at Bob's when you offered to be their DD when they'd still been around by last call. Yet, you trust Bradley enough to feel at ease as he navigates the nearly vacant streets of San Diego.

"We're here," Bradley announces, putting the Bronco in park after pulling into his driveway. He glances at you with a comforting smile, rushing to hop out so he can open your door for you. You gracefully accept the hand he offers you, climbing out of the truck timidly. His hand finds a home on the small of your back again, acting as a guide while he leads you to the front door and lets you both in.

"Your place?" You think out loud, as he unlocks the door, gesturing for you to enter before him. He grins, suddenly feeling sheepish as he drops his keys on the small table next to the door.

"Yeah," he nods, scratching his neck. "I figured you shouldn't go home. Is this okay? I can take you somewhere else if you want."

"This is perfect," he blows the air out of his cheeks at your assurance, making a point to lock the door before guiding you to the living room. He gestures to the couch, which you gladly plop down on, relishing in the plush comfort of the cushions while Bradley watches you.

"Can I get you anything? There's water, tea, and probably even a few beers left from the last time the guys came over," Bradley curses himself for sounding so soft, though you don't seem to mind.

"Water would be great," your supportive smile is the first Bradley's seen all night, sending his stomach twisting in knots as he retreats to the kitchen. While he's gone, you take time to study the living room, your smile widening at the old family photos with his parents along with various pictures of the squad scattered across the shelves. The room is tidy and smells subtly of cologne, it's coziness urging you to melt further into the couch.

Bradley freezes in the doorway, secretly admiring how cozy you look in the safety of his house. I'm screwed, he thinks to himself, shaking his head to rid himself of being awestruck by you. You glance in his direction at the sound of his feet shuffling across the floor, graciously accepting the glass he slides in your hand.

"Thank you," you whisper, clearing your throat after taking a sip of the cool water before placing the glass on the coffee table in front of you. Your body stretches back into the couch as Bradley fills the space next to you, making a point to leave enough room so that you don't feel claustrophobic.

A thick silence falls over the room, neither of you knowing what to say now that you're alone. The impending conversation weighs on both of your shoulders while the two of you look everywhere other than at each other. Bradley speaks after several moments of grueling silence, unable to bare the elephant in the room.

"I'm so sorry for not vocalizing my suspicions sooner," the apology surprises you, not having anticipated the softness of his response. Part of you assumed he was going to be angry with you for not fessing up and asking for help when you had the chance. "I mean, I know you don't play basketball, and then I saw those bruises on your arm, but I didn't feel like it was my place to pry. I should've just said something before he had more chances to hurt you." He frowns at the newest blemish on your lip, scabbed but still fresh with only being a few days old. The bruise on your cheek has faded into a dull yellowish green, time giving it enough time to kickstart the healing process.

"It's my own fault. I was dumb to ever get involved with him," you croak, downcast eyes trained on the floor. "My friends told me he was a walking red flag and I didn't listen. I willingly fell into his trap on my own accord. So please, don't apologize for not saying anything sooner because it's been my fault all along. Your questions were all I allowed you to do."

"Hey," Bradley whispers, wordlessly asking for consent to cup your jaw in his hand, his thumb gently swiping the tear gliding down your blemished cheek after you nod in approval. "None of what he did to you is your fault. You hear me? I don't want to hear you blaming yourself for a man that didn't know the first thing about treating you right." Bradley's voice is gentle as he addresses you, not leaving any room for you to feel insecure in being with him. He never wants you to feel small again, and you won't as long as he has anything to do with it. "He had no business laying his hands on you in a way that misconstrued love as violence. The blame is solely for him to carry, not you. Okay?" His eyes plea that you absorb everything he's telling you. He needs you to understand that Tanner is the perpetrator at fault, not you. The tears flooding your cheeks are indication that you're grasping what he's telling you, but he has to be sure.

"I need to know that you're hearing me Darlin'," the statement is more of a request as he wipes at more of your tears, his heart quenching at the subdued sob that forces its way out of you. All you can do is nod, not trusting your voice. "I need to hear you say it."

"I'm hearing you, Bradley," you sniffle, stammering over the knot in your throat. "The blame isn't mine." With that, more choked sobs erupt from your body, encouraging Bradley to pull you into his lap without caring whether it's the appropriate move or not. Your lack of opposition assures him that you're okay with him holding you while you come unglued in his embrace for the second time.

Countless encouragements that he's got you and that you're going to be okay quietly float from his lips while you melt into him. The innocent closeness brings you a small sense of the relief you're craving. His softness allows you to feel safe enough to simply let yourself accept the truth and feel all of the emotions you've been numbing as a form of self preservation for the last few months. For the first time in months, the breaths filing your lungs aren't clouded by heaviness because an inescapable weight has lifted from your chest. You bask in the weightlessness of your breathing, the sensation bringing a fresh round of relieved tears. Your sobs transition into meek sniffles as Bradley patiently comforts you, his own tension releasing when he senses that you're going to be okay.

"Thanks for rescuing me," you murmur after a few moments of quiet, thankfully allowing him to rid your cheeks of the final evidence of tears. Bradley loses his own breath when his eyes fixate on you again. Though your eyes are bloodshot and glazed from crying, cheeks flushed with a delicate pink tint, Bradley swears you've never looked more beautiful.

His hand tenderly cups your cheek again, his eyes the softest they've been all night as he drinks the sight of you in. The rational side of him wants to curse himself for being so enthralled by you at such an unfortunate time. You just experienced one of the most humiliating nights of your life, and spent the last twenty minutes broken in his arms for God's sake. But all rationality escapes him as he soaks you in, completely defenseless against the relentless adoration beating against his ribcage.

"I'll rescue you any time it's needed Darlin'," he promises, and you know he means it. You bask in the comfort of his arms for the rest of the night, enjoying the lighthearted conversation and the way he seems comforted by your presence. In the dim light of the room, with a TV show softly playing quietly in the background, you eventually lull to sleep, Bradley's steady heart beat being the last thing you remember before succumbing to the delicate darkness.

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A/N: That's it!! My first TGM fic is on the books!! I've got various works in the making, but this one flowed so naturally as I was writing and I'm ecstatic to share it.

There's a part two dancing in the back of my mind, but I'll let feedback and continued inspiration decide whether or not the story continues or ends here.

PART TWO IS IN PROGRESS

Tagging some moots/pages that I enjoy. Feel free to request whether or not you'd like to continue being tagged in future fics <3

Tags: @glen-powells @bradleybeachbabe @writingshae @happilycameron @rosiahills22 @roosterforme @avaleineandafryingpan @fandomxpreferences @fanboygarcia

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7grandmel · 2 months

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Todays rip: 27/02/2024

Beautiful Dreamer

Season 7 Featured on: The Year of Grand Dad Sound Selection [Side B] Also on: Now That's What I Call Quality! 3

Ripped by minindo

youtube

Over the course of this month, I've been having what's best described as an inner battle with myself over which rip from the One Direction takeover of Season 7 to feature, which was really not something I was expecting when the event first began. The timeframe around 9/11 on SiIvaGunner is typically where some of the channel's most subversive and fun events happen, such as the Metal Gear Rising-themed event of Season 4 Episode 2 as described in SUNGORE, or the Not Funny Didn't Laugh day of the Season prior that gave us Sex - Steve Harvey. To just dedicate a day to One Direction instead? To me, it was a little bit of a letdown.

And then, I heard the rips. Oh LORD, the rips.

A lot of my disappointment really came from without giving it a chance, since I lacked much of any connection to One Direction as a band - like Justin Bieber in BELIEBERDANSEN, like Sean Kingston in Crazy Noisy Beautiful Girls and Take You To The Desert, these pop sensations were names I'd probably heard whispers of now and then, but didn't really have any sort of emotional connection to. But over the years, the SiIva rippers have gotten so EXCEPTIONALLY good at twisting my perception of preexisting music completely on its head through their sheer creativity and proficiency - and it was those factors that, after a LOT of rumination, has led me to pick Beautiful Dreamer as the debut rip for One Direction on the blog. To say that it blew me away would be an understatement.

Let's get the obvious out of the way first: Lucid Dreamer is a track using the 3/4ths time signature, a far less standard rhythm than the 4/4th time signature that most pop music, What Makes You Beautiful included, uses. This difference in time signatures between songs makes the mashup process far more of a challenge, and overcoming that challenge is thus a sort of accomplishment. Hoopache back in Season 1 garnered quite a bit of attention back in the day for this very reason, and time signature manipulation in general is what makes rips like He4rt4che and 4SGOR3 such fascinating listens. This isn't even to mention how Touhou music in general, and Lucid Dreamer not excluded, has a very distinctly hectic, melodically rapid-fire feel to it - one that ripper minindo has shown excellent understanding of prior with rips like Nostalgic Blood of the Gregg ~ Old Source, but now had to take to a whole new level.

With Beautiful Dreamer, minindo came out fucking swinging, and left several of his fellow SiIvaGunner members/contributors in absolute awe in the comments. "i think this rip just created a new genre", says current channel manager MtH, while the team's very own Touhou expert Princess Sylvyspirit of NIGHTMARESCAPE 〜Unrestrained HyperCam 2〜 (Final Boss Phase 2) fame declares it her favorite Touhou rip on the ENTIRE channel. Her own analysis brings up several excellent points I agree with: compared to the days of Hoopache, the adjustment to 3/4ths time done here feels incredibly seamless, with several small manual tweaks to the instrumentation of What Makes You Beautiful that obscure its 4/4ths origin incredibly well. But the most important part Sylvy points out is of course the the highlight of Beautiful Dreamer; the additions minindo made to make the rip truly go above and beyond.

Sure, the rip already bangs as a mashup on its own terms, One Direction's vocals going from a solo to a quintet with the chorus of both songs, as well as becoming pitch-shifted to Lucid Dreamer's melody at the same portion, creates a fantastic sense of buildup and energetic release, a hype that drives the first chorus - but past that chorus, the song suddenly comes to a slower-paced section. A section COMPLETELY new to Beautiful Dreamer, an addition of flavor done by minindo himself. The section is impressive in its own right, but its utilized here as another form of tension buildup for the second chorus, whereupon it practically SOARS back into the song with an added heaviness to the volume and mixing compared to the first chorus.

Again - all of this, was for an event where the expectation was One Direction mashups and melodyswaps. Beautiful Dreamer not only fulfills that goal on a baseline level, but manages to be a full-on musical journey, almost as a flex on minindo to show just how good he's gotten from his time on the channel. I don't know for sure WHY he chose One Direction Day to be when he revealed his true power to us all, but I'm immensely happy for it - it, along with a few other What Makes You Beautiful Rips that I may cover in the future, have given me a newfound affection for the song that I didn't know the event would bring me until now. Its the second-coming of the Sean Kingston effect, but with SiIva's most cracked rippers of today at the helm.

#todays siivagunner #season 7 #siivagunner #siiva #minindo #one direction #1D #1direction #touhou #touhou project #touhou music #touhou 16 #lucid dreamer #touhou 16.5 #sumireko usami #what makes you beautiful #Youtube #Bandcamp

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pjisskullourful · 5 months

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in honour of this happening at my gig(its for me, save your breath telling me it aint cos it is! they were in the same building as me. damithan supremacy is fucking real) imma post a little overdue something

my rainbow family halloween fic never came together, i had a cute idea but sometimes the fic dont fic. but yall can have the first 1k+ of what i did write, which includes a little secret i've been keeping from yall for the throuples future. please enjoy, i wish october had been nicer to me so i could have gotten this fic finished for yall

With nothing but Britney Spears to hear as you styled the long blonde wig, it almost felt like old times. You were reminded of spending a huge chunk of your paycheck on new wigs and spending practically every Saturday night at a live music venue, standing for hours in the most uncomfortable shoes known to man. You remembered the extra concentration that had been put into styling the wig that you wore to surprise your boyfriends with your debut (and only) performance in drag.

The illusion of nostalgia was being routinely interrupted by your baby bump getting in your way. At thirty-three weeks pregnant, your movements had to be adjusted from the typical. That kept you from getting entirely lost in memories, along with the blinking baby monitor set up on your desk.

This wasn’t your first time working on this wig, you had been at it with the hairspray and curling iron many times during the course of this month. And it was almost perfect, almost ready to go atop Damiano’s head to complete his Lestat costume. For this year’s iteration of Victoria and René's famous Halloween parties, your boyfriends were dressing to match one another. They were channelling the leads from 1994’s Interview with the Vampire, with Ethan taking on Brad Pitt’s Louis.

You were going as one of their victims, with prosthetic, gory wounds ready to be glued to your body. The 1800’s dance-style dress you planned to wear would accommodate your tummy, as well as fitting the theme since you had gone at it with scissors and dark red paint.

You were interrupted from your work by the sound of your family returning home. Damiano, Ethan and the three kids were back from their excursion to a local pumpkin patch. You unplugged the curling iron, leaving it on the heat-resistant pad before easing yourself onto your feet. You collected the baby monitor before leaving the room, ready for the moment when Bowie awoke from his nap.

When you got downstairs you followed the voices of Ethan and Marsha, finding them in the family room. They were standing at the crafting table, which was currently dominated by the largest real-life pumpkin you had ever seen - it appeared to be three times the size of your head.

“You don’t think his name is Patrick?” He was asking of your daughter.

“No, that’s the name of the starfishies.” She replied, speaking as if this rule of hers was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right, well maybe this is a girl, a girl named Paula.”

She looked at the giant vegetable with her eyes narrowed, carefully studying it with this new information. Ultimately, she decided her dad was speaking the truth and nodded her head. “Paula the pumpkin.”

“That’s the most Paula-looking pumpkin I’ve ever seen.” You contributed your opinion as you walked closer to them.

“Hi Mama. Do you like the pumpkin Cosmo picked? I helped.” She said, perked up with pride.

“You guys did an amazing job.” You said. “You don’t need to keep that heavy jacket on now that you’re inside, Miss Thing.”

She fumbled with the combination of zipper and buttons on her winter coat. But she succeeded without assistance and pulled the garment off, handing it to you straight away.

“How about you go check if Papa needs any help making lunch?” Ethan suggested.

She left for the kitchen and you turned to look at your boyfriend, a displeased look on your face when you began to speak. “You got the smallest one they had, eh?”

“The kids picked it. What was I supposed to do- tell them that they picked wrong?” He asked.

“You’re supposed to redirect them.” You said. “Come on, we talked about this and we all agreed- no more pumpkins bigger than Moe. They’re gonna drive us nuts, asking every day for it to be moved around the veranda, or from the front veranda to the back, then the opposite.”

“I know, but you should have seen how excited he was, he was planning out all the cool things he would have space to add. I didn’t have the heart to stifle his creativity.” He said, clearly trying to win you over with his sweetness.

“You let my children run wild, Ethan.” You attempted to maintain your stern tone.

The expression on his face changed as he switched to the tactic of distracting you. “You smell like hairspray, have you been working on the wig again? I would love to see the progress.”

“Yeah, I bet you would.” You said sarcastically.

Before he could continue his facade, everything was interrupted by your son’s crying coming through the speaker you held. Bowie had woken up, providing Ethan with a great distraction.

He grabbed the baby monitor before you had a chance to react. “I’ve got him.” Swiftly he was disappearing out of the room and up the staircase.

You gave the large pumpkin another look. You were glad that this year you had an excuse to count you out of the three kids' consistent redecorating ideas. It got very tedious trying to keep up with them deciding, then re-evaluating the perfect spot for the heavy decoration.

By the time Ethan came into the kitchen with Bowie the toddler had stopped crying. You were sitting with the rest of your kids along the island, everyone enjoying their own serving of scrambled eggs. Damiano was making sure each child had the drink they wanted.

“He’s okay.” Ethan said of Bowie, who was looking around the room with bright eyes. “He just wanted us to know that he’s awake.” Ethan tapped him on his tiny nose.

The kids had been told that their crafting would begin once lunch was finished, prompting them to start asking as soon as Sylvia’s plate was cleared. They were made to wait until everybody was done, with Ethan the last one eating. He purposefully took smaller and slower bites, earning him theatrical groans from the three eldest.

Damiano took care of tidying up, leaving you and Ethan to get the various crafts prepared. For Cosmo’s pumpkin carving, Ethan laid some sheets from the newspaper onto the floor. The twins were easy to organise, they would be taking their textas to print-outs of pumpkins to be hung up in the windows. You picked out the pots of face-paint that had been purchased for you to help Bowie turn your pregnant belly into a festive pumpkin. You had some old towels on hand for the mess that was certainly coming your way.

He eagerly took one of the paintbrushes that you offered, once you were seated somewhat-comfortably on the floor. Your son turned away from you, uninterested in what you were doing at present. Wobbly steps took him over to where his siblings were gathered, around and on top of the newspaper in anticipation of Ethan bringing the pumpkin over.

“Hey Dada, what’s my star sign?” Cosmo asked, the horoscope section catching his eye.

Once Ethan answered this, the girls wanted to know theirs. This led to Ethan reading out the two horoscopes, which were peppered with words the kids didn’t understand, his explanations slowing the whole process down. Sylvia got bored first, leaving for the table where all of the colouring supplies were set up.

He and Cosmo were still drawing out their ideas on the pumpkin when Damiano came into the room. You were using a marker to create a guide for the painting on your skin while Bowie gave each of the brushes careful check-overs (some of the handles required a taste test). The twins were making the most progress, their markers quickly moving across the pages, their focus secured. Damiano checked that you didn’t need any assistance before stationing himself with the girls.

You wiped the handles of one of the brushes on the towel before dipping it into the orange paint. “Are you ready to paint, baby Bowie?”

He raised his brush into the air. “Pah.”

“Uh-huh.” You said. “You wanna help Mama paint this section, right here in the centre of her belly?”

He had a serious look on his face as he scooted closer to you, apparently ready to concentrate on the craft. You handed your brush to him and he took a long look at the thick orange liquid on the bristles. You feared that he would touch it to his face, or worse, try to eat it.

But he proved his skills, applying the bristles to the taut skin of your tummy. The paint felt slimy on your skin as he worked the brush up-and-down, seeming to understand that this was somewhat similar to when he painted at his baby easel. You were unbothered when some of his brush strokes partially went over your outline of an eye.

“Wow, that looks so good already.” You enthused.

He nodded his head as he accepted from you the alternate brush dipped in paint. “Good.”

He wasn’t the most gentle as he made contact with your skin, applying the paint over on your side. There was a method to how he worked, spreading the orange further across your tummy. There had been many attempts at trying to get him excited over the fact that you were growing a brand new baby in there. It was hard to tell how much he absorbed this information, but what you really cared about was that he was enjoying decorating your large belly.

“Okay, now push with your elbow until the blade of the knife goes all the way in.” Ethan instructed as he held his hand over Cosmo’s on the serrated knife.

Cosmo wore a look of great concentration, his brow furrowed as he sucked on his upper lip. He moved the knife carefully, pushing until more than the pointed tip disappeared into the real pumpkin. Ethan held the vegetable steady with his other hand as Cosmo kept working the knife in.

While colouring with the twins, Damiano had found a doll-sized cowboy hat. It was quite common to come across misplaced pieces of toys around your home, so he didn’t bother to question it. He balanced the tiny hat on the tip of his index finger, absentmindedly keeping it elevated.

This caught Bowie’s eye, taking his attention away from painting. He got to his feet and you had just enough time to take the messy brush off of him before he wandered away. He went directly over to his dad, reaching for his arm.

“Hey, little man.” Damiano enthusiastically greeted him.

“Hat.” Bowie said.

“Oh, is this yours?” Damiano asked, offering the small hat to him. “Are you a cowboy?” Damiano placed the miniature accessory atop Bowie’s head, towards the centre where it could be somewhat steady. Immediately he was giggling, not needing to see his reflection to find this funny. “It looks really terrific on you. It must be your hat because it suits you so well.”

Bowie whipped around to face you, the hat slipping off of his hair in the process. Damiano quickly remedied this, holding Bowie still with a hand on his shoulder until the hat was back in place.

#damithan is more real than the moon landing #damithan supremacy #rainbow family headcanons #avida would have this photo as her lockscreen

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snowydragon10 · 1 month

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‼️‼️‼️

I think we're approaching this... "Chapter" of the Showgrounds Saga from the wrong direction

Theory Time!!

(It's a bit of a long one, so take your time)

Ok, so we've all been thinking - most of us at least - that this would be SMG3's Focus Arc and his turn to get character development and/or Trauma via a big movie event, but it's not what we expected. When I asked myself why, I came to some questions and theories

So, we've seen the pattern so far, SMG4's Perfection, Meggy's Idolization, and then WotFI happened, which I think was SMG3's Chapter.

I think what happened was that WotFI was his main event. Instead of building up to the tension, they swapped it and had the big event first with the development after, henceforth all of the focus episodes after WotFI regarding his shop, his selfworth and his place with the Crew.

So, "If SMG3 already had his fair share of Puzzle/Adware interference, then who's the focus for this chapter?" You may be asking, and I have the theory:

It's actually Us the Audience

Think about it! There's always some kind of connection between each Movie/Chapter moving towards the next one! In IGBP, while rescuing SMG4, how did Meggy fight off SMG3? Her splatfest skills (Former Splatfest Champion Wren)!! In Western Spaghetti, what did SMG3 have that added to his character from that point onwards? His bombs (Coffe n' Bombs Cafe)!!

So now, what's one connection with WotFI and this one? We the *Audience* are allowed to add our input based on the situation! (The Heist Plan Votes and the Video Reviews!!)

Not only that, BUT when WotFI finished and we got that post credit scene, Mr. Puzzles didn't address just anyone. No, he wasn't talking to SMG4, he wasn't talking to Luke, Marty, or SMG3; he was talking DIRECTLY to us the *Audience* at the 4th wall!

Adware KNOWS that we're finally picking up the hints and pieces!! He finally acknowledged that we're ready for our turn!!

When the first movie came out and he appeared as that keyboard malware virus (when we dubbed him Adware), we didn't think much of it. We thought it was a one-off, a fluke, something to further the story via typical SMG4 Weirdness.

It wasn't until the Western Spaghetti movie hype was building up that everyone realized that there's a pattern happening. That was when fans started pointing out, "Hey! There's something Fishy going on (Ha), and here's the hidden clues to prove it!!". We became suspicious of that damn symbol, and became more vigilant... and then WotFI happened!!

(Addition: I feel like Adware was beginning to test how ready we were when we got that one Steam Link with Tari in an empty room and the TV at the front of the train. Yeah, it was to hype up the movie, but it was also almost like a... puzzle, you could say)

Which could explain why this time it isn't a movie event that lasts for one week, but instead nearly over an entire month! I theorize that Winston wants to test us for some reason, and for that, he needs to collect information. Information like maybe a certain interactive website with reviews. You can't get the audience involved with just a single movie, just saying. Plus, the fact that he said endless entertainment all Saturdays forever? Who's the most involved in that specific detail, hmm?

Also! The theme! Granted, I don't have much proof for this one, but the theme I've noticed is Nostalgia. Blue's Clues isn't something very important to any of the characters that got kidnapped (minus 4 hating content farms) but it can be something that a lot of us have a fond attachment to! Which Adware could use to his Advantage! What better way to get good reviews than to target what the audiences like?

(4th wall sidenote, after that TV song jingle, Winston glances over to the screen directly at Us)

Also, notice how weird it is that the Crew Members that got kidnapped are popular among the fandom? You know, characters that we've gotten attached to? (Don't tell me Bob doesn't have a fanbase of his own). Every time a "Victim" is targeted, their close friends end up getting dragged into the mess.

SMG4 (3, Megs and Mar)

Meggy (Tari, Mario, Axol, DESTI)

SMG3 (Eggdog got a Cameo, 4, Bob??)

Us (Our favorite characters)

....

So, all of this to say, we need to stay on our toes, especially for this chapter. Be wary and all of that. I may be overthrowing it, but hey, theorizing is fun!! What do you guys think?

#smg4 #I think I covered everything I thought of but if I missed something I might add it on later #insert charlie conspiracy board meme

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auroracalisto · 1 year

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aurora's 2022 fic pick

hello, and welcome to my first post of the new year—my 2022 fic pick! i will be compiling some of the fics i read and loved from this past year below!! to make it harder on myself, i've resorted to choosing only three for each month. i guarantee i've read hundreds more.

TOTAL FICS: 36

included fandoms: marvel, american horror story, the last kingdom, the 100, the witcher, peaky blinders, law and order: svu, the umbrella academy, gotham, stranger things, the princess bride, top gun, hetalia, timewasters, original work

DISCLAIMER: SOME OF THESE FICS MAY CONSIST OF NSFW. please be aware before clicking on them. also, please read responsibly—i have not included all triggers to the fics, only major ones, so please be sure to check those before you read the fics.

there is one month (october) in which i only reblogged two fics, and i checked my ao3 history as well. i didn't read a single fic on ao3 that month. to try and make up for it, i have posted an extra for the month of december.

JANUARY

words left unspoken by adorin on ao3 - doc ock x reader - fluff and angst, character death, gn!reader - this fic was *chefs kiss* no joke i love it and i recently went back to re-read it. it gets better every time. Heartbeat by HanakoSpiritoftheToliet on ao3 - matt murdock x reader - pregnant!reader, fluff - this was so sweet. i am a sucker for fluff. Terrible Two's by writeyouin on ao3 - charles xavier x reader - parent!reader, fluff - like i said. a sucker for fluff. i can't help it.

FEBRUARY

Soulmark by @dyns33 - matt murdock x reader - a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff; happy ending - i remember reading this for the first time and absolutely crying when i read the ending. it was SO good. Lost In the Shadows by @7-wonders - vampire!michael langdon x fem!reader - part of a collection of fics, kind of spicy towards the end, but nothing serious - the series is seriously so good. i am 100% prepared to re-read it. Chivalry's Death by e_n_silvermane on ao3 - 2p!prussia x reader - hetalia, gore, mute!character - LISTEN. EVEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE HETALIA. this is SUCH a good fic. literally it is so good. there's so much depth to the story itself, and i absolutely love every part of it. like... the description, the guilt the characters feel—it's literally a piece of art and i will stand by that until the day i die.

MARCH

For a moment by @disasterofastory - finan x fem!reader - hurt/comfort, gore - LOVE. love this fic. all her fics are so good. almost like praying by @imaginearyparties - steve rogers x bucky barnes - gore, gay religious angst - i fell in love with this fic with the first paragraph. i knew i was in for a magnificent piece, and ilana never fails to provide. There are monsters and there are men by silverwolf7850 on ao3 - vampire!matt murdock x reader x werewolf!frank castle - fluff and angst, canon-typical violence, supernatural themes - this fic FUELED my love for both matt and frank. i literally loved every second of it and i wish there was more to it.

APRIL

Rescuing You by @violetrainbow412-blog - vampire!eddie munson x fem!reader - angst, kind of villain!eddie - bro this was IT. this was the fic that fueled my love for vampire eddie, and i've never been the same since. unnamed by @000ficlets otto x reader - fluff - this fic is literally only five paragraphs long but i loved it so much. like,,, you know how you just read something about you can just feel the love coming from it? yeah. this fic. beautiful. against all odds by @twistnet dmitri antonov x fem!reader - angst, fluff, possible tw due to violence - this was one of the first dmitri fics i read after becoming attached to the character... brb gonna re-read it AGAIN.

MAY

A Surprise Guest by JaskiersWolf on ao3 modern!jaskier x reader - first meetings, alcohol - bro. BRO. when i say this fic is so good, i absolutely love it. it's so soft and makes me feel all warm on the inside. 6 Meters Under and Back Part 1 by @onesaltyhunter - vampire!sihtric x fem!reader fluff? bloody vampire stuff - oh my gosh when i found this, i jumped on the opportunity to read it. i love vampires, and i LOVE sihtric. is there a part 3? i don't know if there's a part 3. It's good to see you! by @disasterofastory alfie solomons x reader - technically first meetings, anxious reader, being followed - disasterofastory always has amazing fics and this one,,, idk there's just something about it that i love to read. it's totally alfie and it's written well!!

JUNE

Scarrification by BruisesAndBuzzaxes on ao3 victor zsasz x fem!reader - fluff, meeting family, character backstory - this is a long fic, but it's *oh* so good. like it's literally worth every last word. i've read it a few times through already. i might go back again and read it one more time. Where Our Pieces Fall in Place by anotherwinchesterfangirl on ao3 - finan x fem!reader x sihtric NSFW, time travel, polyamory - so good. SO GOOD. i love time travel tropes and this one hits the spot, every time i read it. Imagine being chosen to join Wonkru in the bunker before Praimfaya [...] by @fanficimagery roan x reader, past!echo x reader - angst to fluff, typical canonical violence - ohhhh my gosh in a world of so little roan x reader fics, this one is a diamond in the rough. it's so good.

JULY

Peanut Butter Cookies by @eddie-van-munson eddie munson x reader - slight angst with a happy ending, jealousy, allergies - jealousy fics are so good and this one was just,,, too good. i love eddie. i love domestic eddie. please don't cry by @sickoherd john murphy x reader - comfort fic - short comfort fic with john murphy <33 it was sweet and simple and so good with just a few words. Selfish Jerk by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord jim hopper x reader - fluff, a little angst, taking place during season 2 - i looove hopper. this was the first fic i read in july that was jim hopper, and it definitely wasn't the last.

AUGUST

IF I DIE YOUNG by @imgoingtofreakoutnow steve harrington - finale-based fic; major character death. lots of angst. - this fic is so good. i remember reading it for the first time and i actually cried. multiple times. i loved getting to read how steve may have felt in the days after the season 4 finale. annie's writing is so good regardless. Darling by @no-mercy-bby ralph timewasters x reader - short fluff fic - one of the first fics i read of ralph and i absolutely fell in love with him. bby is an amazing writer and they've definitely captured my attention on more than one occasion. want me to kill him for you? by @froggywritesstuff diego hargreeves x gn!reader - short fluff fic - diego is amazing and the characterization in this fic is just as incredible.

SEPTEMBER

That Guy by YouGotThatWrite on ao3 rafael barba x gn!reader - fluff, meet-cute over coffee - my mom and step-dad watched the entirety of law and order: svu and i just so happened to watch most of the episodes with rafael in them. i already loved him. and then i read this fic. it's so good. The Eddie Munson Collection by Edtease on ao3 eddie munson x reader - blurb collection; somewhat nsfw - these were so good and i loved getting to read about a somewhat domestic eddie munson. some of them are a little on the nsfw side, so please be aware before reading. Imagine finding out that Rafael sometimes worries about your age difference by @svubloods rafael barba x reader - age difference, established relationships - okay so i'm not even gonna lie i love fics that take valid concerns and makes the characters live through it. that being said, i also love rafael. there's no questioning as to why i loved this fic.

OCTOBER

City Nights by @thebirdybrigade allen f. jones x gn!reader - possible tw for attempted s/a, violence, etc. slight angst to a bit on the fluffier side?? - oh boy the first hetalia fic i've included on this list. i genuinely loved this fic. it was written well, and i love to re-read this. the ending kills me, every time. goodnight, my love by eliwashere on ao3 original character/reader - major NSFW warning, vampires, original character, pwp - i don't even remember how i found this fic. i think i clicked on the vampire tag on ao3 and came across this. it's so good?? like i fell in love with the plot of the story, and then the smut itself was a bonus. AND THEN the author included a sketch of the character in the next chapter, and boom, i fell in love, AGAIN. i literally do not have another fic for this month. i was off of social media well until the middle of the month. i will include an extra one on december because i know i have enough for that month.

NOVEMBER

THOSE WHO ARE LEFT BEHIND by @imgoingtofreakoutnow steve harrington x gn!reader - platonic, mentions of death and mourning - the second of annie's fics i've listed. it's sad, but it's so good. it's the budding of a relationship and i absolutely adore every bit of it. attention by @imaginearyparties namor x reader - okay but let's talk about the fact that ilana ALWAYS has good fics, and this one just proves it?? it's so good. i hadn't even watched the new black panther yet and i had already fallen in love with namor because of how he was written in this fic. are you thanking me or your god? by @lazypeachsoul uhtred ragnarsson x fem!reader - meeting, budding relationship - uhtred is a babe and the way lazypeachsoul writes him is magnificent. i love him and this fic so much.

DECEMBER

Nobody But Me by @ohthatstragic tom "iceman" kazansky x fem!reader - jealousy, established relationship - THIS was the first iceman fic i read after watching top gun maverick for the first time and i fell in love with him. not to mention the writer did well with characterization. gonna come back to this fic at some point and re-read. Concussed by @topgun-imagines mickey "fanboy" garcia x fem!reader - slight angst, injury - fanboy is adorable and this fic (other than the injury he sustains) is so cute. i loved reading it. Dating Westley Would Include... by @bowieandqueen11 the princess bride westley x reader - dating headcanons - i need more princess bride fanfics. i've talked to a few mutuals about it before and i might just do it. this fic is so good, though. i'm so glad it's out there. extra since i only had two for october: Strong people aren't born they're built by meowmeowpumpkin on ao3 jake "hangman" seresin x fem!reader - angst, a bit of violence, major tw for some things; please be sure to read the author's warnings before you read. - bobbbb in this fic. i love it. and the 180 jake does when he realizes that something isn't right with his wife. it was good.

and a reminder for everyone reading:

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xxmissarichanxx · 4 months

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Introducing ✨XMACX Monthly✨ public posts on ptrn that'll be monthly updates on my original projects! i want non-ptrns to be part of the fun, so cover model polls are open to all! first one drops tmrw on twt/ig/tmblr!

you can read the update on ptrn or here, below the cut!

First month of the New Year and I've got a lot of fun ideas and plans for 2024! Let's dive right in!

XMACX MONTHLY UPDATES AND "COVERS"

First off, I'm introducing XMACX MONTHLY! It'll be a public post that -- ideally -- goes out on the first of every month. It'll include the schedule and plan for the coming month along with a cover image! I really miss drawing monthly character illustrations and I thought it'd be fun to also include non-patrons in polls so here's what I was thinking:

Everyone gets a chance to vote on the cover model for next month's issue, but patrons can vote on the outfit and/or theme for the cover!

For now, the characters I'd like to focus on drawing are my OCs, so the options for cover models will be limited to my OC roster. I have so many! I'd like to shine a light on them some time... And I was thinking, since magazines typically have "cover stories", OC Lore posts can be about the cover model! What are OC Lore posts? This leads me into my next topic...

TIER CHANGES

Here's what I'll be offering for each tier:

Pineapple Slices (3 USD)

Vote in monthly theme/character outfit polls

Digital downloads - wallpaper of the monthly cover model image and/or current visual novel build

Name in credits (must be patron during release month)

WIP/Sketch Dump at the end of each month before socials

Big Juicy Pineapple (5 USD)

All previous rewards PLUS:

OC Lore posts - the "cover story". It might include a character interview or some tidbit about the cover model

Art Process - a video, maybe some thoughts and commentary

NSFW/Spicier/Alternative version of cover model image - you got to vote for their outfit, BUT now you potentially also get to see them with their clothes off LMAO

PROJECT LINE UP

Last year was a pretty busy year for me due to a lot of family stuff, work, and travel. I didn't have as many opportunities as I would have liked to draw my OCs and work on my personal projects. This year, I'll be cutting back on commissions and taking on other projects so I can focus more on my dreams of creating and sharing original stories. Here's the order in which I'd like to work on projects and a lil blurb about each:

Froot Basket: Dark Chocolate Voiced Update

Currently, I'm still working on adding the voiced lines and new artwork to Froot Basket: Dark Chocolate. Tentative release date will be some time in March for the public, some time in February for patrons.

Froot Basket White

The third and last installment of the Furuta Basketball "Froot Basket" series. It will be from Jordan's perspective and will be a direct sequel to Froot Basket Valentine. I'd like this project to be released episodically -- one new route every month or two, 7 routes total. I'm considering making it fully voiced...

Fleeting

My BL scifi horror visual novel! It follows Cadet Masa Takeshiro. It's been a while since I've worked on this project and I'd like to update the demo with everything new I've learned in the last few years. A "face lift" if you will in almost all aspects including writing and UI.

"Kaimana Comic"

It is currently unnamed but in-universe time-wise, it picks up some time after Fleeting. I don't expect to publish the comic at all this year. I'd just like to start thumbnailing it.

Other Projects

I have some other smaller projects like that Dogsitter one I was working on. I'm saving those for when I get frustrated. Those will be my "cool off" projects.

ART GOALS FOR 2024

These are my big big goals this year! If nothing else, at least these please c''':

Release updated FBDC

Begin releasing FBW

Release new Fleeting Demo

Begin thumbnailing Kaimana Comic

JANUARY 2024 SCHEDULE

Okay! That was a lot. Now here's what I have planned for January! I typically like updating every Friday.

January 5 - Character (public) and Outfit (patron) polls drop

January 12 - OC Lore post drops (BJP)

January 19 - Art Process post drops (BJP)

January 26 - New FBDC Voiced Preview! + Current visual novel build update

January 31 - Sketch Dump

Since Kai is like the default model and he's already shirtless, the Cover Story this month will be "What if Kai were a PKMN trainer?" LMAO. Prompted ONLY because I can't unassociate the backwards cap from Ash and his PKMN battles.

Wow. That was a lot. If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! I'm excited to implement and try all these new stuff out! I hope you'll have fun with it too!

Much Aloha, Ari

#xmacx monthly #vndev #visual novel update #devupdate #original character art #original character #oc art #oc #xmacxart #xmacxoc #kaimana

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desertsquiet · 2 years

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Album of the month - August 2022: Dublin Blues - Guy Clark

The title track of this album first started sneaking around in my daily shuffle quite a long time ago. When I was still on Spotify, that is, and I was much more used to just let the alghoritmn take me on a random journey from time to time. I loved it right away, with its peaceful yet desperate vibe and the way it ironically blends European “high art” with “simple”, every day life pleasures typical of the state he was born in, with music obviously being at the center of it, a theme that is very dear to my heart: “I have seen the David, mmm/I've seen the Mona Lisa too/And I have heard Doc Watson/Play "Columbus Stockade Blues". This was soon after I’d first discovered Guy Clark’s music, with two amazing records that absolutely blew me away on first listen. His second, Texas Cookin’, and especially his debut, Old N.1. After that, however, I feared he might suffer from the stellar debut syndrome, as in those artists that were able to so completely blow me away with their first album(s) - or the first I heard - there was no way another album of theirs could capture my imagination quite as well. Yet about 9 months later, his 1995 release Dublin Blues was thankfully able to prove me wrong.

Guy Clark is an impossibly underrated and overlooked songwriter, one so obsessed with the most meticulous aspects of the craft of songwriting (without ever losing sight of autenticity) that when it comes to his best material, he really can do no wrong. There’s nothing even resembling a filler track on this album, not even a word or a line out of place, just 10 wonderful songs that like only the best country music can do, make simplicity feel so very complex and in depth. I’m completely in love with the way it sounds, too, (definitely his most cohesive sounding record since Old N.1), but what drew me in most of all was the realness and honesty both of the lyrics and the performance. He’s always been very much an instinctive singer, not so much concerned with the technical aspect of it, more as a way to fully convey his unique personality. The way he half sings half talks his way through songs, the way he starts laughing or humming mid sentence, or strongly emphasizes every little Texan inflection. Every song really seems to scream “this is who I am”, but never in an arrogant way. He’s also just pouring his heart out left and right. He puts it all on the table and there’s no chance you won’t have a clear idea of who Guy Clark was at the end of this album.

Picking favorites from it is an incredibly hard task, but the way he confesses his endless devotion to everything and everybody that is already part of his life and he intends to keep around in Stuff That Works is constantly moving to me: “I got a woman I love, she's crazy, paints like God/She's got a playground sense of justice, she won't take odds/I got a tattoo with her name right through my soul/I think everything she touches turns to gold”. As well as the impossibly humble and heartfelt love declaration of Trying to Try, where he realizes the only promise he can keep is that he’ll never stop trying to make things better for himself and the woman he loves and that’s a promise he will never break no matter what happens. I could keep naming songs from it, because they seriously are all amazing. I hope whoever reads this decides to give this album (or other Guy albums) a shot because the truth is he deserves a lot more attention. He’s one of the finest songwriters you can hope to hear.

#a little late but whatever lol #album of the month #dublin blues #guy clark #susanna clark #outlaw country

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bigkittybanquet · 2 years

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I vent to the void and hope it hurts noone

I need to vent, sorry. I apologise profusely to the one person who follows me, don't feel the need to read this. In fact, if you have anything at all else to do, please just skip. But if you've ever been told to apply yourself more go read "Driven to distraction", the audio book is quite good as well thankfully. This post isn't going to be of any value to you but the book might change your life as much as it has mine.

This is the only place online I'm still mostly anonymous. I hide my ADHD from all but close family, and we don't really talk feelings. Not mine anyway. I do not at all expect any replies, this is just slightly closer to actually opening up to someone than I'm typically capable of. I have a very supportive and loving wife whom I understand on a cognitive level would probably be quite happy to listen to me whine about how hard my honestly comparatively quite privileged life has been. I just can't.

You've probably picked up a theme of quite toxic masculinity so far. Self hatred, supressing my feelings. I've also had some anger issues in the past, though the resulting violence has always thankfully been directed at myself.

I'm 35 year old man and I've suffered the effects of ADHD every waking moment of my life. Until a couple months ago, when I was diagnosed. I cried within an hour of the first time I felt the effects of my medication. Like really, loud, ugly cried. Over remembering to fill a water bottle and putting it on my desk. I was raised in rural Australia in that very traditionally stoic way. I don't have an easy time crying. It does not come naturally, no matter how much I might want it to. I only cry like this over deaths, and only in private. In some way I think I was coming to terms with how awful I've been to myself (and also blaming myself for not seeing it earlier and actually realising the potential I've been told I've been wasting). I have spent genuinely my entire life being told the stereotypical line that I've come to understand is almost universal for those with undiagnosed ADHD, "You have so much potential, if you'd only apply yourself." Nah, that was it. That was my best. Well, I might have had more if I'd been medicated.

And then, I remembered I needed to get to work and showed up on time. For the first time in a month. I cannot explain how trivial it obviously should be to be on time to work when you work from home and yet, I have always struggled. Despite being overwhelmed with emotion, I was still functioning above what I'd normally do on my best days. I'm not going to bother explaining what the difference was, I've tried to explain it and it never makes sense in words. Then it wore off and I was left with the dread of having to be me again. 3 hours of being sort of like everyone else and then me again. And wasted on work hours.

"I really tried this time, I really tried", that line has sat with me since the first time I heard it. I knew that feeling so well. For those of you without it seared into your minds, it's from an early episode of the Simpsons where Bart desperately tries to study for an exam so he doesn't have to repeat a year. Tortures himself. Gives up a once in a lifetime opportunity to work at this. And fails. And the teacher takes pity on him and passes him. I never got pity. I was told very clearly not to expect it. That I did not deserve it. On more one occasion I was told clearly by a teacher that they dropped me down to a failing grade as a way of encouraging me to try harder. So it's no wonder that when I fell apart in university, I knew I couldn't ask anyone for help. The ones who got given extensions or accommodations deserved it but I didn't. I was lazy. I've gotten one extension in my life, when my cousin died. Because the professor came to me and offered. I still didn't hand in that assignment. I spent the entire time doing it, I even finished it. I resat the entire course again and I nearly failed out.

But I deserved pity. Empathy. Not pity. I needed help. There were medications that would have made my life so much more liveable.

I tried reaching out to a doctor shortly after I left home (fled the country really) and they told me I was having a midlife crisis and to stop playing D&D. In my early twenties. Knocked it out of the park. Great job champ. Excellent clinical work. I was only taken seriously when I had already diagnosed myself (it probably also helped that I was so nervous I couldn't stop moving the entire time). Despite this I'm still one of the lucky ones. I keep telling myself that noone wants to hear this. I could actually afford to pay for a diagnosis and the meds. I can't imagine knowing what the problem is and not being able to get help probably exactly because of the problem. If that's you, I'm so sorry.

#adhd #sorry for the rant

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yeowninefive · 4 months

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My 2023 Art Retrospective (Part 1)

Before we continue--yes, this is just part one. I will warn you upfront--this is going to be a wall of text, and so will the next part. With my 2022 retrospective I did try to condense things down, but I wasn't anywhere near as successful for this year.

I originally didn't want to write a retrospective because in terms of general performance/productivity, I felt there wasn't much to discuss. Looking back on my 2022 retrospective, my big story there was how I made a *big* leap over 2021 in productivity, and raised my profile/art skills quite a bit, with 2022 seeing some of my most popular art, period. 2023, all things considered, seemed like it was 2022 again, like one of those videogame sequels that's mainly just more of the same. But the more I really consider the following, 2023 honestly was like if I took whatever strides I made in 2022 and strapped a rocket (assume 2022 is a car for this analogy to work). I think going into the nuances as to why I feel this way is important, and with 2023 marking my online art identity having existing for over a decade by this point, I think that milestone itself is also worth more than a cursory acknowledgement.

Like last year, I'll first start this retrospective by looking back on my my art goals outlined for 2023, when I made my retrospective by 2022's end.

Fanart: Much like 2022, I think I came close on having at least one fanart posted each month, but my OC projects (The Clock Robin Caper; and an upcoming OC project I started development on, but eventually decided to withhold for 2024) took priority, the fanart became more secondary. Regardless, the fanart output was still at least twice as much from 2022, and they included some of my most-popular pieces to date. The popularity of Not Paying for That/The House Special (the Pizza Tower/SpongeBob crossover) in particular was arguably a case of being at the right place at the right time with an appealing/funny concept--it's to date the only art I've had on tumblr pass 100 notes in less than two days. The (relative) popularity of that work (as well as the popularity of Petals to the Metal [Princess Daisy fanart] on Twitter) are probably the most encouraging works of this year, where the interest they receive does give me hope I can still make more of a name for myself as a artist(/animator) in the current landscape (or hellscape, take your pick) of online creators.

So now I'm in something of an odd pickle in terms of where my angle with fanart goes in 2024. Of course, I would like to make even more fanart of things I like or at least have a vested interest in, but I recognize that the fanart I've generally made has typically been some sort of unique concept (either being something I used to theme my OCs around, or some sort of crossover/mashup of ideas that I like). The fanart also tends to be among my more "technical" works I put added emphasis on details/development, instead of quicker/simpler items like doodles or sketches. I feel like I'd have to change my approach/production process for fanart if I wanted to get more of it out there in the upcoming new year.

Animation: This is where I'd say this was a step back, though I hope with the new circumstances/what I've learned, it does lead to bigger, more, and better things into the future. While I made three animations, it was only two original animations (with a third being a WIP of the existing two), and one of the animations didn't even feature any character animation. Nonetheless, I am admittedly pretty proud that two of them were honestly put together pretty quick (produced out of the interest of a then-viral Barbie Special Month commercial from the 1970s) and I feel they fit the aesthetic/direction of the source material moderately well.

If nothing else, I can at least say that one of the animations (Complimentary Doll) marked my return to trying to animate in CSP, which I had abandoned due to limited features (I had PRO, so I was limited in framerates); while the other (Waiting for Free Stuff) was animated in OpenToonz, which I do think I grew more comfortable to using as time went on (learning keyboard shortcuts and taking a more "modular" approach with using multiple levels for animating different parts of the animation). I fully believe I could had gotten Waiting for Free Stuff finished even earlier if I didn't use OpenToonz' raster layers for the entire animation (which was very limited to use, even with using multiple levels), instead of vectors layers.

Between being able to get an upgrade to CSP EX (Ver. 1--copies of which are still being sold in certain areas), becoming more accustomed to OpenToonz, and getting a new drawing tablet; I'm hoping to really expand my animation ventures. In particular, I'm hoping that I'm able to get back into producing animations with colors and producing more animated stuff in general--which in general, I foresee being easier with CSP instead of OpenToonz. (I still want to keep learning OpenToonz nonetheless, since it's UI/setup is still arguably more tailored for an animation workflow compared to CSP.)

Backgrounds/environments: Overall, I say this was a step up over 2022. There's still a fair amount of basic environments here and there; but I think there were much less non-environments overall. Fittingly enough, I highly credit my Clock Robin Caper project for the improvement in this area--since I was producing "film stills" representing different "scenes," I made an effort to present most of the characters in multiple different environments; using photos references for most of the settings in question and even going the "extra mile" in adding small details that most people wouldn't even notice. I'd in this regard, Frames 04-09 were my highlights in environment design this year.

The mixed media artwork I did in the spring, where I incorporated my Commodities OCs in photos I took during my trip to Canada, also helped in this regard. That was a fun project that, as I alluded to earlier, I'm honestly not quite finished with. There are other photos I took that I'm hoping to use; but they were shelved to make way for the Clock Robin Caper and the other untitled upcoming OC project. Going into 2024, I hope to try and create at least a few "pure" landscape works, akin to my earlier artwork; though of course I want to properly measure where my current art skills lay with environment design. By the same coin, I'm still open to doing remakes of my previous art (which was sadly a no-show for this year).

Comics/stories: I had nothing to offer on this front for 2022, and I said I wanted this to be my art priority for 2023. I'd argue I delivered and then some--although I think the development process certainly could had been managed better. A core element of my The Clock Robin Caper project was to develop the mystery/story across each of the frame, without much--if any--explicit dialogue said by the characters. (Though I did also regularly include descriptions to at least give some basic explanations as to what was happening and what was the importance of each character in the scene.)

I'd say without a doubt, the Clock Robin Caper is inarguably the most elaborate art project I've done, since I went through a bunch of story ideas/concepts in finalizing it (which is partially why it took so long to finish), in addition to the addition multiple OCs from others' creators that were included (deciding who to use for each frame and figuring out how to draw them--a little over half of the OCs I was drawing for the first time) and the aforementioned environments I developed for each frame. I was also able to get two other comics, with the newspaper-styled short comic "The Thought That Counts" and the longer-form, multi-page comic "The Story of Ronda" (both concerning Ronda and Aero, go figure).

I still have a bunch of story ideas that I'd like to adapt, but much like the fanart, I think I'd have to change my strategy if I wanted to get more comics/stories produced in an adequate matter. I think I still have issues with how I manage my time, which also played a role in The Clock Robin Caper being drawn out longer than it arguably needed to be. It's why I ended up shelving my aforementioned in-development art project --which I actually teased within one my 2023 artworks-- for 2024. Some of the artwork I've made for it was actually completed and has been finished for months, and in other circumstances, I probably would had published it by this point. But with this one, I'm aiming to have most of the artwork completed first, so I can publish it on a consistent/regular schedule.

Art trades/collaborations: Truth be told, this is largely a beat-for-beat replay of last year--wanted to do trades/collabs, but I was busy with my art projects. I did at least respond to at least one OC draw request, and joined in on some viral art redraw memes--which while not quite within this topic realm, was at least some self-imposed challenges I was willing to take on, and were pretty fun to do. By the same coin, there's not much if any movement towards me being open to art commissions (either for fun or for commerce).

By this point, I think this has gotten long enough that I'm splitting this up into two parts. Here is a link to the second part. A sincere thanks to anyone who has stuck around to read the whole thing (so far), and have a Happy New Year's Eve/New Year's Day and a wonderful 2024.

#2023 #2023 year in review #art retrospective #long post #art retrospective part 1

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dawnowar · 4 months

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Spending my Xmas days off cleaning the house

Went to get my annual eye exam today before the end of the year and my prescription hasn't changed which is cool because i have roughly 50 pairs of glasses now and I don't want to have to start over. Makes me want to buy more even though i clearly do not need more but that never stopped me before.

I was going to take myself out for chicken wings so i asked where the best ones are and then went there. It was a sports bar with a big "seat yourself" sign, so I did and promptly got completely ignored by everyone who works there. As i sat on the uncomfortable chair waiting for no one to take my order I noticed how much i hate this place and the crowd that came with it and the many blaring TV with football games on it, so I left and ordered wings from Sheetz from my phone in the parking lot which were ready in the time it took me to drive there and pick them up.

Ate wings with my cats on my comfy sofa in my own time which made me much happier. Got a good shake too for less money than it would have cost me at the sports bar and then i would have had to tip the waitress for giving me shitty service on top of it.

Yeah i know its Christmas Eve Day and a Sunday at that and maybe its not the best day/time to happen into a sports bar that's one of the places staying open for people to drink at on Xmas Eve but whatever. I had a shitty experience and I'm not sorry for leaving.

I'm doing laundry including all the various holiday themed outfits so i can put them away and the bedding and anything I've been meaning to wash and not getting to. I decluttered a lot of the living room and i have intentions of decluttering the bathroom and cleaning the kitchen before the holiday is over.

I have a frozen lasagne for dinner tonight and some texas toast. It's not a typical tradition but it's mine.

I've been sick for a couple of months. All normal stuff just one sickness after another. I havent been well for more than a few days before i get the next thing and i'm so ready to be well again but I didn't go out to the before-christmas parties and I guess im glad because it seems everyone got covid at a thing I skipped so I stopped feeling bad about not going out now I'm well enough to go out again.

In fact ive been collecting clothes and makeup and such. Online shopping while I've been sick for my return to going out again and i just havent gone out again. But its winter now and I ate too much between being sick and inactive and the holidays, i need to diet and exercise again for a bit i think before i get in some of these clothes.

I am expecting to go out for New Years Eve. I like to drink some champagne with strangers in a fancy dress for that holiday.

I have an idea where im going but i dont know what i will wear. But I have choices which is awesome.

I've been taking an estrogen/progesterone cream because I was having hot flashes due to menopause that was waking me up every hour and i was so tired from not being able to sleep properly.

This stuff had me sleeping great right away so I was totally into it but now I'm sleepy all the time even when I don't do anything and I'm cutting the dosage in half hoping that makes some difference.

Not sure what it'll do but im trying it now and not when i need to be at work all day in the morning in case I can't sleep. Last night i did the first half dose and I woke up hungry in the middle of the night but i didn't wake up with a hot flash so it was inconclusive.

I don't miss the hot flashes and I'm sure i'd rather be overtired from estrogen than sleep-deprived from lack of estrogen but hoping to find a happy medium where im not tired all the time.

I dont care a thing about Christmas but im happy to have these days off. We should get a bunch of days off every two or three months just because imho.

To catch up on what you need to catch up on and do Drs appointments and service your car and shit.

I pretty much gave up on 2023 a few weeks ago when I realized I basically wasnt going to be well enough to do any of the fun holiday stuff and I may as well just stay home and clean. I'm fine with all this. It needs to be done and the more I do the more I start to feel like I'm reclaiming my life as I am reclaiming my house.

So its time to fold and put away the laundry in the dryer and rotate in another load.

Happy Holidays.

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horizon-forbidden-sheesh · 4 months

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Writing Process: Preamble

*Ahem* SO! I was recently honored with a question about my organization process for writing. And, boy howdy, am I just tickled pink to tell you! I've never felt so seen!! Let's do this thing.

Let me start by sharing that IRL, I'm a copywriter/project manager for print & digital design work. So when I started writing my first-ever fic, I organized it much in the same way I would a website build.

But tbh, when I started The Marshal, I didn't really know I was writing a fic. In fact, I was only working through my typical video game process. In that I'm extremely anal note-taker, and it's just the way I live my regular-degular life. All my books are annotated to the Nth, I’ve been keeping a (rather inconsistent) diary since I was 17, and I’m a religious bullet journal-er with very specific journal preferences (grid paper, always).

My practice of video game note-taking goes all the way back to drawing maps of Luigi's Mansion as a kid to try and optimize my speed runs, and progresses into tracking daily decisions for BG3. I’ve also got entire pages in my bullet journal dedicated to developing backstories for all my Cult of the Lamb cult members, and my Notes app has several installments of history & lore from various Civ V games. It’s simply how I prefer to play.

(Side note: No, I am not technically diagnosed with anything. Yes, I have found myself in repetitive, furious spirals, tearing out pages of my notebook over-and-over when the map I HAD to draw in pen was not 'perfect.' 💁🏻Is this OCD?🦋 Who knows. Who cares.)

Game Timelines have always fascinated me, pretty much since Ocarina of Time. I want to know how exactly long something took, what order it happened in, and whether it's technically 'feasible' within the parameters of the game. Peep my post about 'realistic' gameplay for more deets.

Mostly, I was trying to track where I 'camped' each night, because it was SUPER IMPORTANT that the events of the game took place within the ~3 month timeline GAIA sets before the environment collapses (super casual). So, the notes from my first play-through looked like this.

And then I met Kotallo.

And I started drafting journal entries from Aloy's POV to explore the internal monologue behind all those ✨faces✨ she was making.

(These ones. Infinite credit to @Diviner-Alva for doing the LORDT'S WORK.)

They looked like this:

If you've read 'The Marshal,' you'll notice some similarities.

After a few weeks of gameplay, I was pushing 20k words in 'journal entries,' and it just... wasn't cutting it. That was around the time I knew I had an bona fide obsession on my hands.

Writing exclusively in Aloy's POV left out SO MUCH OF THE STORY that was developing in my li'l head alongside my gameplay. I was imagining a whole burgeoning, slowburn romance as I picked my way across the Forbidden West. It mirrored the side quests (That Talanah convo??) and overall themes of HFW perfectly. (Also, um, the consistent controller rumble during the Scorcher cut scene?? Like, WTF? You're telling me Geurrilla didn't know EXACTLY what they were doing? Pfft.)

I can't tell you when exactly I finally took to the internet to feed my hyperfixation, but let me tell you that it was my first time discovering Ao3, and I spent the summer of 2022 devouring every fic in the Aloy/Kotallo tag. I felt like I had finally found my people. It even worked for a while! But the story playing in my head didn't exactly match any of the stories 1:1, and I realized after a while that no one else could write MY headcanon.

Still, there's a TON of overlap in a few of them: Medicine by HIMLuv is by far the closest, and my personal fave. I love basically everything Garbage_Dono has written. Obviously, I've developed a massive crush on Pikapeppa. (How does she do it so FAST? *awe, amazement, un poco envy*) There are some truly incredible writers out there, and I'm genuinely grateful to every one of them for creating a foundation that gave me the permission I needed to finally fucking WRITE. I denied myself fanfic for probably 20 years, imagining all the ways I would be ruthlessly mocked if anyone ever found out. I've had a-lot-a-lot of shame blocks to work through as I've been writing over the past year, and this story about opening up and trusting others feels deeply personal in a way I can't quite put into words.

That's how I made the decision to begin adapting the journal entries into a more organized fic. So, I started my second play-though and created this account around that time. It would be probably be another ~6 months before I got drunk enough to just press 'publish' on the first chapter in April of this year, over a year after the game came out.

Every other reference tool I've made, I created along the way. I intended to post more of them here on tumblr, but hey. Life Happens.™ And even tho it feels like the fandom had moved on post-DLC, there's still pleeeeenty of time. 😘

Anyway, I'm gonna clip this here, and get more into the weeds on organizational tools in another post. But it felt like I needed to talk about this first, because when I started really writing in the Fall of 2022, I already had a lotta documents under my belt that I needed to wrangle.

If you got to this point, thanks for reading this entirely self-indulgent post.

xo, Sheesh. 🖤

#hfw #horizon forbidden west #kotaloy #The Marshal #the making of #writing process #gamer quirks #More like PreRAMBLE amirite?

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jakeperalta · 3 years

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hello people who like reading I need help!! I just joined a virtual book club and I was one of the people picked to suggest a book for this month but the theme is "spooky" and I don't read much in that realm so please send me suggestions of good spooky books!!

#the way it works is four people get picked to suggest a book then everyone votes on the one they want to read #and typically I've been picked for this first month when it's not a theme I know much about lol #talking

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twstedtales · 2 years

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𝐀 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑!

Happy 520 followers, everyone! 💖 it's been a while since I've done an event, whoo! And while I'm not entirely active on tumblr nowadays, I wanted to at least give this event a go for all the support you give me the following year! Thank you for sticking with me and being patient with me! I hope we can get along more and more in the future 🤗

So, this milestone event is a little bit more special than the last one! It was actually the original idea of @twstdaydreamer and she allowed me to use it for this event! Below are some things and of course, some ground rules we have <3

How it works for you:

Give me your chosen date location or any place you wanted to spend the time with your date. Please limit it to one location per request!

Instead of giving me a character of your own choice, give me the dorm instead.

Then include in your ask whether you want it to be a platonic, romantic or blind date. If you don't specify, I'll just do a romantic date as default!

ie. a romantic date with one of the fish mafia in the amusement park.

How it works for me:

I will roll my d12 twice to decide the outcome of your date! It will determine your fateーI mean, the outcome of your date whether it was a success or not! 😂

I'll pull a random character from the dorm you sent me to set you up on a date by using an online doom wheel! So...fingers crossed that you get your favourite? Hehehe.

Since my d12 is a twelve sided dice and I will roll it two times equals to 24, you have to get at least half (12) for the date to be successful!

ie. The first roll is 5 then the second is 4 which equals 9. In this case, the date is a failure.

Ah, just to inform everyone, this milestone event is strictly sfw. Meaning, no nsfw, yandere themes, dark content, or anything that will go against my general rules. But it will, at some point, may contain suggestive themes but that was it.

As for Ortho, I could still pick him up if you chose Ignihyde at your request. BUT, it will remain platonic even if your request says otherwise, this is non-negotiable.

Types of Date:

Romantic - the typical date that involves romantic endeavors. Could be suggestive, if a success. and if its a failure, will perhaps cause more annoyance 😂

Platonic/Friendly - pretty self explanatory. If success, could be fluff and if failure, nothing but trouble 😂

Blind - a surprise(?) date arranged by yours truly and other characters, too! Who knows what this means when you get a success or a failure? 😏🤭

This will remain an 'x reader' scenario or/and headcanons.

I will accept multiple requests! Though if I get more than 30+, I will close the inbox early 👀

Request period will be on January 11 until January 23 only!

Writing/posting period will be starting in February! That's because my finals are approaching now so I cannot do it this month 😭 well, you could consider this perhaps my Valentines event of some sort?

And of course, enjoy the date! Thank you so much for participating and your continuous support! I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for you lovely people 💕💕

#writing milestone #twst #twst x you #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #spilled ink #queued post

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

Hoist the Colours - Part II

Summary: You try and survive being Henry's captive, while your father plans on how to get you back.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 7,629

Warning: PG-13 - Pirate!Henry, Some Dark Themes, Language, Kidnapping, Ransom, Captivity, Possible Trigger Warning, Unwanted Physical Contact, Angst, Fluff, Bondage

Inspiration: Pirates of the Caribbean and Henry Cavill!

Author's Note: Gotta love Pirates!

Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist

Henry woke with the sun glittering off the ocean and into his face and groaned, rubbing at his bearded cheeks and sat up, rolling his stiff neck and shoulders. His body was sore after the battle the day before, he crossed the swaying room and poured himself a stiff drink and quickly downed it with a groan.

Splashing some water in his face from a small basin, Henry peeked through the narrow gap between bed curtains and saw you sound asleep, before a light knock sounded on the still locked door.

“What is it?” He asked, opening the door to his first mate, Benjamin Nullings.

“Morning to you too, Captain.” Nullings greeted him back, with a smile.

Henry shook his head at the man, a smile tugging at his lips. He and Nullings had known each other for a good many years, back when they were both crewmen on another Pirate's ship, before Henry acquired the Crimson Jersey, a Spanish Galleon, and he made Nullings his First Mate, being one of the only men that he trusted.

“Good morning, Benji.” He replied to him.

“Well, good is going to depend on how you take the news I have for you.” Nullings answered, his brow creasing.

“What news?” Henry frowned, not liking the tone or the look Nullings was giving him.

“It's Valentine.” Nullings said, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his bald head. “He was injured in the skirmish yesterday, took a musket ball to the arm. The surgeon had to take it off during the night, but he ended up bleeding out and died early this morning.”

Henry's head dropped back with a growl. “Fuck.”

“Exactly.” Nullings nodded, pressing his lips together. “You know old man Norris entrusted us with his son to try and straighten the boy out, not get his arm blown off or him killed.”

“He's going to kick up quite the fuss back at the Island for this.” Henry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Has Quartermaster Astley tallied up the new loot?”

“He has, and we should make a very tidy profit of ten thousand pieces of eight.” Nullings informed him.

“Divided by a thirty man crew.” Henry squeezed his eyes closed and did the math. “Three hundred pieces per man. Norris will want his son's portion plus compensation for his death. Give him Valentine's portion and I'll compensate Norris for the death of his son.” He told Nullings, pushing his jaw forward.

“Once we get back to the Island, that is.”

“I'll have Astley make a note of it in his logs.” Nullings nodded, agreeing with his Captain and friend. “How's our bargaining chip holding up?” He asked, with a knowing smile.

“Stubborn and feisty.” Henry replied, glancing over his shoulder.

“Typical of all women.” Nullings laughed, his head thrown back.

“True enough.” Henry agreed, looking back at him. “Have Ellis keep us on course for Tortuga, but we won't be harboring there. So, have him anchor us off shore and the men will row out to it. They've earned a jaunt on shore after being at sea for the last eight months.”

“When we get the girl's ransom, do we still intend on returning to the Island?”

“Yes, we won't be able to hold anything more and we're already starting to ride lower in the water than we should.” He commented, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, we'll be in Tortuga within two days.”

“Excellent.” Henry nodded, pleased. “Have Valentine's body put in a shroud and we'll pay our respects to him this afternoon.” He instructed him, hearing you start to stir, disturbed by the sound of their voices.

“Aye, Captain.” Nullings nodded his head at Henry and went about his duties.

Henry closed the door as you pulled back the curtains, whimpering as the bright sunlight hit your unprepared eyes. “Good morning, pet.” He purred, smirking at you as you brushed your sleep tousled hair out of your face.

You huffed at him, rolling your eyes at his continued nickname for you, but didn't answer his greeting.

“Someone is a grumpy morning person.” He chuckled, openly teasing you.

“Only with bloodthirsty pirates.” You growled at him, trying to soothe the wrinkles in your skirts.

“Well, they don't call me Henry the Red for nothing, pet.” Henry grinned at you, unashamed and proud of himself. “We'll anchor off the coast of Tortuga in two days' time.” He informed you, combing his fingers through his messy curls.

“Tortuga?” You frowned up at him, surprised. “Why not Lockemirth?”

“I'm not going anywhere near Lockemirth until your dear papa has your ransom.” He replied, pulling his hair back with the leather string. “I'm not a stupid man, if I was to go near that island before hand, it would give him and the Crown amble opportunity to try and overtake my ship and crew. So, we'll wait in Tortuga.”

“Then, how will you know my father will have it?” You asked him, lifting a brow at him. “Tortuga and Lockemirth are eighty kilometers apart.”

Henry smirked at you, impressed. “A woman that knows her cartography.”

“I'm an educated woman, not the plague ridden whores you gallivant with.” You hissed at him, venomously.

“I have much finer tastes.” He replied, his stormy blue eyes scanning you for a long moment. “Anyhow, I have my ways of getting messages between the islands. So, you don't have to worry about that, pet.”

You glared daggers into him, wishing you had some means to wipe that smug look off his face. Henry stared back at you, he could see the thoughts flitting across your mind, you were either terrible at hiding how you were feeling or you weren't bothering to do so. Either way, he wasn't threatened by it or worried that you could pull it off or even attempt it to begin with, and he let that show on his own face.

“Enter!” He shouted, just as a knock came, causing you to jump at the sudden sound.

His cabin door opened and the same man from the night before entered with another silver tray with food upon it, he paid no attention to you as he bowed his head to Henry, set the tray down on his desk and left again.

“Are you starving this morning as well, pet?” Henry asked, picking up a few bits of food off of his plate and popped them into his mouth, making a big deal out of chewing and how good it tasted.

You watched him eat and felt your stomach rumble in your stays, you hadn't eaten since early afternoon the day before and were parched beyond belief. Henry lifted a silver goblet to his nose, swirling its contents and taking a whiff of it with a satisfied hum, before taking a deep swallow.

“Mmm, simply remarkable.” He said, after rolling the mouthful of wine in his mouth for a moment, before swallowing. “A 1681, Spanish Red.” He spoke, licking his lips. “I've always loved red wine, so it works out in the end.”

You gulped, feeling your hunger start to break down your willpower as you watched him enjoy the wine and food, purposely taking his time and making a show of it. With every bite of food and sip of wine your hunger and desperation grew, to the point you almost became unhinged. Henry set his goblet down and picked up yours, holding it out to you, a playful and teasing smirk and expression on his face, continuing to poke holes in your weak resolve.

“You know you want it, pet.” He hummed, lowering the deep timber of his voice, taunting you. “Wet those sweet lips of yours.” He purred, his tone teasing more than one meaning of his words. “Be a pity to let yourself go to waste.”

Gulping and licking your lips, the last of your will dissipating as you shot forward and snatched the goblet from his hand, making him laugh, as you hastily downed it, your mind not taking a moment to ask your taste buds how it tasted. Henry picked his own goblet back up, slowly sipping his wine, while you started to gorge yourself on the food. He plucked up the uncorked bottle of wine on the tray and refilled your goblet, the rich and deep red liquid splashing onto the stained oak wood of his desk as the ship bucked on the waves.

“Easy, pet.” Henry cooed at you. “Don't make yourself sick.”

You slowed down, looking up at him as you swallowed down the bit of food you had been devouring, the look in your hungry and exhausted eyes shifting, then you gulped down, audibly. A broader smirk crossed Henry's face and he rolled his eerily blue eyes at you.

“I ate the same food off the same plate, pet. It's not fouled up.” He laughed at you, increasingly amused at your silliness at thinking he, or the cook, had some how poisoned the food. He touched his fingers under your chin, smirking at you.

“For Lord's sake, you're no use to me dead or damaged.”

Another knock sounded at the door and it opened without Henry's permission, revealing Nullings. “Captain, Valentine and his shroud have been prepared, all we wait for is you.” He informed Henry, lifting a brow at the two of you.

“If you aren't busy.” He added, clearing his throat.

“I'm not.” Henry replied, dropping his hand from your chin. “Just making sure the Governor's daughter had her breakfast.” He chuckled, gently patting your cheek, then polished off his wine and set it down on his desk. “Come along, pet. All aboard are required to attend.” He told you, starting for the door.

“Attend what?” You asked, staying where you were.

“One of my men, Valentine Tash, was injured in the skirmish yesterday.” Henry replied, pulling on his jerkin. “He died, after having his arm nearly blown off.” He explained to you, settling the garment on his body.

“What's that matter to me?” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. “You were the monster that attacked my ship. It's your fault, he's dea--”

Henry bolted across the room, the back of his big hand connecting to your surprised cheek in a harsh smack; if it wasn't for his desk, you would have crumbled to the floor, instead you fell upon the desk, sending the tray of food crashing to the floor and spilling your goblet and the bottle of wine across it.

“Every man, and woman, on this ship knows the difficulties and dangers of being on these seas and in this occupation. Death is part of that expectation, no matter who they are. If they die, from whatever the cause, they have been cautioned and informed of it, and still they chose to come. That isn't on my head or on my heart.” He hissed at you, face twisted with rage.

“So, I suggest you watch your tongue, especially when you speak of things an insolent and ignorant girl does not understand.” He grabbed you by the elbow and yanked you up onto your feet. “Do you understand what I've said?”

You looked up at him, sniffling, eyes brimming with tears and your cheek welted with his knuckles. “Y-e-s.” You hiccupped and gulped thickly.

“Good.” Henry replied, tense. “Now, we're going out there and you will behave yourself, and if you try anything stupid, you won't leave this cabin again, until I have everything I want from your father in three days.” He warned you, shoving you in the direction of the door.

You tripped over the threadbare rug on the floor, but was thankfully caught by Nullings, before you fell. He gave you a soft and sympathetic smile, supporting you until you managed to right yourself, then kindly let you go. Henry moved in behind you, making you shiver as you followed Nullings out of the Captain's cabin. You blinked at the bright light of the morning as you stepped out onto the main deck of the ship, it seemed by the amount of people there as well, that the entire crew was out and waiting for the ceremony to send Valentine off to his watery grave.

It would be a lie, if you said you weren't interested in how pirates dealt with their dead. You had spent much of the voyage on the Kilmartin dreaming up scenarios about pirates and their ways of life on the high seas; but being kidnapped and held for ransom wasn't one of them though.

You saw a canvas wrapped body on a long wood platform that was balanced on the edge of the ship with two men holding onto it, so it wouldn't prematurely fall into the roiling sea below. The men gathered around their Captain, removing what hats they were wearing and bowed their heads. Henry stood tall beside you, his broad shoulders straight and tense as he surveyed his crew, his expression hard and unreadable.

“We gather here in honor of our mate, Valentine Tash.” He said, speaking loudly over the waves crashing against the hull. “He was a good man, a hard worker and a sound fighter. It is unfortunate that we have lost him, but he will forever be remembered.”

The crew let out three cheers in agreement and honor of their fallen comrade, before Henry gave a stiff nod of his head and the two men holding the body, lifted the platform and the shrouded body of Valentine Tash slid off of it and into the abyss below, never to be seen again. The crew lingered for another moment of quiet, before silently returning to their stations. You stood beside Henry as he continued to stare after the now vanished body, you saw, now that his men were gone or distracted by their duties, the look in his ordinarily hard and guarded eyes was one of a raw heart, one that had lost many men over the years and, even after telling you he felt none of it, was a man that had felt all of those deaths as if they were his own.

Henry caught you staring at him. “What?” He snapped, regaining command of his face.

“Nothing, just enjoying the sunshine.” You replied, blinking up at the blue and cloudless sky. “You?”

His eyes narrowed, then blinked at you, softening slightly. “Same.” He answered, his voice calmer. “It won't last though.” He added a second later, squinting into the sunlight.

“Why do you say that?” You replied, frowning and trying to see what he was talking about.

Henry dropped his eyes to you, amused. “I've spent my entire life either on or by the sea.” He replied, moving to the railing. “All that experience teaches you the language and nature of it. Even if it looks calm, sunny and beautiful, there's always something brewing just beyond the horizon.” He told you, leaning his forearms against the worn and sun faded railing.

“There's a storm coming.” He whispered, narrowing his eyes at a very thin strip of dark clouds. “But, we should be off Tortuga by the time it arrives.”

“Will we make landfall then?” You asked, gulping at the thought of being on the ship, any ship, with a storm going off.

“No.” He chuckled, shaking his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “We'll be as safe on the ship as we are on land.” He could see the fear and anxiety in your face and eyes. “Don't fret, pet. I've sailed this ship around hurricanes and she hasn't sunk yet.” He grinned at you, giving you an odd feeling of safety, but also a feeling of uneasiness.

“Then again, she can't.”

“All ships sink.” You frowned, shaking your head at him.

“Not this one, pet. Not this one.” Henry replied, still grinning as he looked his beloved ship over. “She's special.”

“Special how?” You answered, starting to worry for the pirate's mental soundness.

Henry pushed off the railing and caught your chin in his fingers, tipping your head back to look up at his amused face. “That's nothing for you to worry about, pet. There are some things beyond your innocent understanding in this world and beyond it.” He told you, his eyes darkening with an almost sinister delight.

You jerked up with a gasp as a crack of lightning struck the water, so close to the Crimson Jersey that Henry's cabin lit up like broad daylight. You gripped the blankets of Henry's bed as the ship tilted and swayed at nauseating degrees under the heavy winds, the torrential rain hammered every part of the ship, pattering against the glass of the stern windows like small pebbles. You gasped again as a hiss filled the cabin, but slightly relaxed again, a spark of light flared to life and illuminated Henry's face as he leaned over his desk to touch the flame to the blackened wick of his tallow candle.

“I didn't mean to wake you.” You spoke, barely audible above the storm.

“You didn't.” Henry replied, crossing the room with a small struggle.

“I'm impressed how well you and your men can walk across the room or deck, when the ship is bucking like a wild animal.”

“It's land that tends to be tricky for most sailors.” He chuckled, pouring a drink, unphased by the glasses moving across the table. “Your body gets so used to the sway of the ship, it doesn't know how to react when you're finally on unmoving land again.” He told you, picking the glasses up and crossed over to you, holding one of them out.

“It's like watching a newborn babe try to walk for the first time.” He laughed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I'm supposing this is your first time at sea.” He said, sipping his drink.

“It is.” You nodded, staring into your own glass for a moment, before lifting it to your lips. “I would have rather stayed in London.”

“With your mother?”

Your eyes jerked over to him.

“You were the only woman on board the Kilmartin that my men and I encountered.” He clarified. “I doubt your father had you himself, so that leaves your mother still in London herself.”

“She is still in London.” You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip and trying to hold back the overwhelming wave of tears that wanted to overtake you.

You were so consumed by all the events of late, being forced to leave the only home you had ever known, to sail half a world away to a teeny island, where you knew no one other than your father. Then to be kidnapped by Pirates and held for a ransom, that you feared if your father didn't or wasn't able to pay would only end badly for you. It was all adding up on you, especially when you were still trying to deal and come to terms with your mother's passing.

“I doubt we could have brought her, even if we wanted too.” You mumbled into your glass.

“Did she not wish to join you both?” Henry asked, head slightly tilting as he noticed the cloud that crossed your face, even in the crepuscular light of the cabin.

“I'm sure she would have come with us, if she could have.” You looked up at him, eyes shining and red. “But, sailors already believe a woman on board is a bad omen, I shudder to think what they would have said about transporting the dug up coffin of one.”

Henry's mouth dropped open for a moment, before he regained his composure. “She's passed on then.”

You nodded your head, dropping your eyes back to your barely touched drink. “A year ago, this past month.” You whispered, ringing the tip of your finger around the rim of the glass. “She was sick for a very long time.” You sniffled and gulped, feeling your strength start to waver.

“I'm very sorry.” Henry whispered, softly. “It must still hurt you deeply.”

His words were the keys that opened the floodgates to everything you had pushed behind it. The walls of your throat closed and your eyes burned with the liquid fire of your tears, your breathing hitched, catching in your throat, and your shoulders trembled as tears washed over your cheeks, dripping into the glass still in your lap. Henry sighed, his face pinching in concern and sympathy as he watched you melt into sobs. Setting both glasses on the rocking floor, Henry reached out for you, resting his hands on your arms and gently pulled you into his arms and lap, tucking your head under his chin and rubbed your back, letting the sway of the ship rock the two of you. You clung to him and cried yourself out in his arms, drenching the shoulder of Henry's shirt, but he didn't care, he was a pirate after all and used to being wet.

He gently traced the outline of the whale bones sewn into your corset, beneath your dress, feeling the steadily growing weight of your body on top of his as you calmed down and fell half asleep. Biting and pressing his lips together, then sighing, Henry stood with you in his arms and leaned over the bed, gently laying you down and covered you up, before tugging his tear stained shirt off over his head, tossing it on his desk. He studied your sleeping form in his bed and sighed again, before taking the two neglected glasses back to their tray, then returned to the bed, sitting down on the edge and stared out the stern windows as the storm continued to rage around the ship.

“Look after us.” He muttered to himself, before getting into bed with you and pulled the curtains closed against the bright lightning flashes.

Henry stiffened as you whimpered in your sleep, at a rumble of thunder, before rolling into his side and relaxing again. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, but didn't move away from you, not that he could to start with, he was already laying on the very edge of the bed, so if he wanted to get away from you, he'd have to go back to where he'd been sleeping below the stern windows. So, he didn't move or push you away from him, knowing you would likely only find your way back up against his side, figuring if it gave you some measure of comfort, he might as well enjoy the warmth of your body pressed up against his, being the first woman of any standing to share a bed with him in many months, even since the last time he was on land.

“Land ho!”

The cry woke you from a sound sleep and for a moment you forgot what ship you were on, until you opened your eyes and saw Henry pulling on his discarded shirt and his boots, before unlocking his cabin door and stepped out onto the deck.

Glancing out the stern windows, you saw the mid morning sun was shining and there was even the cry of seagulls, as if the storm had never happened, and the first real sign there was actually land nearby. Excitement blossomed inside of you and you jumped to your feet, quickly going out of Henry's cabin, hot on his heels. Henry was standing on the starboard side of the ship, a spyglass held up to one of his eyes as he swept it over the glittering water.

You didn't need a spyglass to see the approaching stretch of land and felt your heart and spirits soar as high as the seagulls beginning to circle the masts. Tortuga. You heard several of the men aboard murmur across the deck as they gathered, grinning and clasping each other on the back and shoulders, excited at the prospect of touching down on land again, getting their hands on quality booze and ladies of the evening. You couldn't wait for the opportunity to sneak off the ship and find safety somewhere on the island, surely some kind soul would point you to the Mayor or Governor, a British Subject, who would then give you safe passage to your father in Lockemirth.

“Nullings, have Ellis anchor us close enough off the island that the men can row out and enjoy themselves.” Henry barked the order, snapping the spyglass shut.

“Aye, Captain!” Nullings shouted back and ran up to the helm to relay the message.

“Drop the long boats once we're anchored offshore, men!” He yelled to the gathered men on the deck.

“Aye, Cap'n!” His men roared back, throwing up their hands in cheer.

“You.” Henry called, turning towards you.

You started and looked at him as he strode over to you, catching your elbow and turning you back towards his cabin, marching you through the door.

“From this point, until your father gives me my ransom, you are not leaving this cabin.”

“Why!” You protested, planting your hands on your hips.

“Because, I know in that little head of yours, you're already plotting on how to get yourself to that island and I'm not losing my bargaining chip, and if my men have to spend their first time on land, in months, looking for you, they'll bitch about it until we get home.” He told you, sternly.

“Now, stay put and behave.”

“And if I don't?” You retorted, lifting your nose at him.

“I'll tie you to a fucking chair for the rest of your time here.” He replied with a growl, then slammed the cabin door shut, the sound of it locking following.

You let out a frustrated shriek and stomped your feet, before angrily pacing the cabin, mumbling under your breath about how much you hated him and his stupid pirate crew, hoping your father and the Crown sunk his unsinkable ship with him on it. You soon felt the ship slow and the scrapping of the anchor chain unwinding from its storage as they dropped anchor, no doubt close enough to the island for the crew to row the longboats out to shore and enjoy themselves.

“I hope they all get the bloody pox!” You shouted at the cabin door, picking up a glass from Henry's desk and launching it at the door.

“I want you to employ our usual method of message running for our ransoms.” Henry told Nullings as they stood on the deck, huddled together.

“Aye.” Nullings nodded, taking the heavy pouch of gold coins Henry held out to him. “The auction should be bustling, taking in all the ships currently in harbor.” He observed, glancing at how packed Tortuga harbor was. “I'll have Barnard and David take our messenger to Lockemirth Island. With any luck the Kilmartin survived the storm and is already anchored in their harbor. But, if they're late getting in, I'll have them wait.” He explained to Henry, running a hand over his smooth, suntanned and sweat drenched head.

“That leaves one other thing.” He sighed. “What if they wrecked in the storm? What do we do with the girl?”

Henry rolled his jaw, mulling over the possibility. “We'll deal with it, if it happens. Until then, act as if its still sailing.”

Nullings nodded. “Aye.”

With that, Nullings boarded the first long boat that had been lowered into the water and rested as the men manning the oars rowed them ashore. Once they landed, Nullings marched up the crowded beach, smiling as a few of the Crimson Jersey crew called out to him or made lewd gestures before vanishing into the streets to find the taverns and whore houses. As much as Nullings wanted to do the same, he was on official ship's business, so it would have to wait until later in the day, once his task was completed.

It only took a handful of minutes for Nullings to find the place he wanted to be, the Tortuga Slave Auction, melding into the crowd that pressed in on the auction block, voices from various positions in the crowd shouting out prices. He waited until he found one of interest and joined the chorus, not allowing the other buyers to push him out, until he finally won the bid and left the crowd to pay and collect them.

“You understand English?” He asked the teenaged boy, pulling him into a quiet and discreet corner.

“Yes.” The boy replied with a mild accent, and a nod of his head.

“Excellent.” Nullings smiled. “What's your name?”

“Hany.”

“Well, listen here, Hany. I'm the First Mate of the Crimson Jersey, and I have a task for you; a task that once you fulfill, you'll gain your freedom and a passage to any place you wish to go or a place on our crew, that will be left up to you.” He explained to him.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I do.” Hany nodded again, blinking at Nullings, wide eyed.

Nullings removed a small, rolled up piece of parchment out of his pocket. “You will take this to the Governor of Lockemirth Island, two of my men will take you there, then wait for his reply and return here with it. You will find me at the Golden Mermaid, ask for Nullings.” He said, handing him the note.

“Any questions?”

“No, sir.” Hany shook his head, tucking the note into the pocket of his filthy and tattered pants.

“Great! Follow me.” Nullings nodded, then took the teen to the boat where Barnard and David were waiting for him.

With that done and nothing else to do, Nullings went to the Golden Mermaid tavern in central Tortuga and ordered a room, a pint and a woman to fill his time, while he waited for Hany, Barnard and David to return with Sir Thomas's reply.

Thomas was a mess after Henry had taken you for ransom, going from spurts of violent anger to deep depression and lamenting. Captain Davis tried his best to keep the new Governor's spirits up, but more often than not, failed at it.

“The vile things that damned pirate and his men could be doing to my beautiful and innocent daughter.” He raged, pacing the cabin in a highly agitated state. “I swear, if he harms a hair on her head, I'll hang the bastard thrice!”

“You must keep your composure, Thomas.” Davis replied, watching his friend pace from his seat behind his desk.

“Composure!” Thomas roared, stopping before the Captain's desk and slapped it with his palms. “I don't have to do any such a thing! You are not a father, you do not know the pressure and responsibility it is for one to care for their children, especially their defenseless daughters!”

Davis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “You know my meaning, Tom.” He replied, exhausted. “We'll be in Lockemirth harbor in a couple hours time, then we can muster what we need to rescue her, in safety.”

“Yes, we will.” Thomas growled, starting to pace again. “I'll be damned if I give that abominable pirate a cent from anywhere! The only payment he will get will be to the hangman's noose.”

A few hours later, the HMS Kilmartin docked in Lockemirth harbor and Sir Thomas disembarked from the ship, meeting the welcoming party the gentry of the island had put together for him, and you had you been with him. But, Thomas was in no mood for a welcome party and good cheer under the circumstances. He demanded to be shown the base of his operations and have all the top officials of the island to be assembled there, at once.

Several people branched out from the large group that had congregated around him, to set about his orders, while the rest of them showed him the Governor's office.

“What is the meaning of this?” One of the officials demanded as he entered Sir Thomas's office.

“Yes.” Chimed another, entering behind the first.

“We have serious business to conduct.” Thomas snapped, glaring at the full room of officials.

“What business can be so urgent that you must conduct it the moment you've stepped on the island?”

“While we were sailing here, we were attacked and boarded by pirates.” Thomas replied, his temper mounting more and more.

“Pirates!” Several gasped.

“Yes, pirates!” He barked, impatiently. “They've not only stolen several valuables from the HMS Kilmartin, they've also kidnapped my daughter and are holding her for ransom.”

A murmur went through the collection of men in the room, agitating everyone.

“What is the pirate's demand for her back?” One of the men asked, lifting a brow at Sir Thomas.

“Three-fourths of the islands money and goods.”

“Absolutely not!” The man roared back. “You can't just show up here and give them almost all that we have, I don't care if the pirate has your mother!” He protested, several of the others agreeing.

“I have no intention of giving them anything, you fools.” Thomas hissed, banging a fist on his desk.

“Then, how do you propose we retrieve your daughter back?”

“That—what is it?” Thomas barked as the door to his office opened to his clerk, Samuel.

“There is a boy here to see you, Sir.” The clerk replied, sheepishly. “Says, he has a message for you.”

“Tell him to wait.”

“But, Sir, he says it's from a man on a ship called the Crimson Jersey.”

Thomas stiffened at his words. “Let him in.” He said, pushing off his desk.

The clerk pushed the door open and stood out of the way, omitting Hany into the office. He looked around at the full room and gulped, slowly removing the note Nullings had given him out of his pocket and held it up, looking into the face of everyone in the room, not sure which of them it was meant for.

“Governor?” He said, hesitantly.

“Yes, that's me.” Thomas replied, stepping from behind his desk. “Hand it here.”

Hany took a couple steps forward, meeting Thomas halfway and allowed him to take the note from his hand. “I wait for reply.” He informed your father, uncomfortable.

“Yes, yes.” Thomas nodded, breaking the wax seal and unrolled the stiff paper.

“To the Governor of Lockemirth Island. I send you this note to inform you that I and your daughter, who is in good health and condition, are quite nearby to your island of Lockemirth. I send this messenger and expect him, and your answer, back before first light tomorrow morning. If he, or your reply, do not return by that time, I will take that as a sign of your refusal to pay her ransom and your leaving her to my mercy. Captain Henry Cavill of the pirate ship, the Crimson Jersey.”

Thomas read the note aloud, his hands slowly starting to shake with the multitude of emotions he was struggling to keep at bay.

“What is your plan, Governor?” One of the men asked, watching him restlessly pace the room.

He paced the room for several more moments, trying to gather his thoughts and form some sort of plan to get you back from Henry. Stepping up to the globe that was beside his desk, he studied it for a long moment, before turning to his desk and took up a quill and a piece of parchment paper, scribbling down his reply to Henry's note, and sealed it, pressing the signet ring on his pinkie into the cooling wax to make it official.

“Take this back to him and tell him we'll be waiting for him at that location.” He told Hany, then dismissed him to return to Nullings with the reply.

“Sir?” A man impatiently growled.

“We'll be meeting the pirate on Hafstead island.” Thomas replied, meeting the group's eye. “There is only one likely place that the Pirate and his men would make harbor in, and that's Tortuga. It's the only Island close enough to us and is friendly to their kind.” He explained his logic.

“Putting Hafstead island between Tortuga and Lockemirth, a perfect neutral ground for our transaction.”

“You stated you wouldn't be giving them their ransom demands? How then, are you planning to get your daughter back from them?”

“Misdirection.” Thomas smiled at him.

“We'll fill two crates with the goods and the rest with something else that will weigh roughly the same as the real two. They'll demand to see proof that we have their demands, so when they do, we show them the first two. Once they've handed my daughter over and move to start loading the ransom onto their long boats, we'll have guards from here attack, and all will be well.”

“I'll have my daughter back and the island will lose none of its profits.”

“You're sure this will work?”

“Yes.” He nodded, confidently.

With what men who wanted to go ashore gone, Henry let some of the tension go out of his shoulders, before heading back into his cabin. He opened the door just as you were opening one of the windows at the back of the ship, crouching in it, poised to jump into the water blow.

“Don't you dare!” Henry barked between clenched teeth, pointing a finger at you in warning, his lip curling with anger.

You looked over your shoulder at him, heart racing in your chest and hands shaking as you gripped the open window frame. Both of your hearts paused for a frightful moment, and everything became slow-motion; Henry taking a slow step forward as you gradually let go of the window and tipped forward out of it. Reality caught up as you slipped out the window, free falling countless meters, just as Henry stuck his head out the open window to see you crash into the foamy waves.

“Fuck!” He shrieked, enraged and concerned.

Glancing behind him for a moment, Henry tore off his jerkin and boots, before swan diving out of the window and into the water after you. Making it into the water, Henry saw you slowly sinking and struggling to swim with the weight of your clothing bearing down on you. Bubbles rose towards him as you struggled to hold your breath and quickly losing the fight. Kicking his feet harder, Henry reached you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against his sturdy body, buoying both of you, before his fingers dug into the ties of your corset and dress, ripping them open and letting the heavy garment slip off your body and sink into the oblivion of the ocean below. Kicking his legs in unison with yours, Henry propelled you both to the surface of the choppy waves.

“You fucking brat!” Henry hissed, shaking his head, his long hair coming free from its tie, before sticking two fingers into his mouth and let out a shrill whistle, right beside your ear, uncaring if it hurt you as you coughed and sputtered for air.

A shrill whistle sounded back as he guided you around to the side of the ship, the remaining crew leaning over the railing, to see the two of you treading water.

“Man overboard!” A call went out, the men jumping to action.

“Captain overboard!” Another corrected back.

Several of the crew helped Henry haul you back onto the ship from a small ladder built into its starboard side. You stood on the deck in nothing but your shift, hugging your arms against your chest and shivering violently in the strong breeze. Henry finally set his soaking feet onto the deck, the men huddled around him for a moment, to make sure he was all right, but his blue eyes were burning holes into you.

“Go back to your duties!” He bellowed at his men, who paused for a moment, then scattered out of sight.

Henry snapped across to you, his hand raised and stopping a centimeter away from your cheek, you scrunched up your body, wincing and turning your head away, anticipating the slap. He shook, throat bobbing up and down as he struggled to control his white hot anger. His hand unclenched and squeezed around your jaw, in a bruising grip. He jerked your head forward to look up at him, making you whimper. Your frightened eyes looked into his furious blue gaze, like he was tearing you apart with his sight alone.

You shivered again and whined, cold and scared, the suspense of not knowing what Henry was going to do to you, for your open and continued disobedience.

His hand moved from your chin and grabbed you by the neck, making you yelp with alarm, terrified he was about to kill you. But he growled deep in his throat; dull nails digging into your skin. Henry jerked you sharply towards him, crushing you against his soaking body and crashing his lips to your cold ones, in an angry and sloppy kiss, his other hand coming up to tangle in the back of your wet hair. You struggled against him, squirming, beating and clawing at his chest, but Henry wasn't deterred, his continued to kiss you, for a long moment, before breaking it, then, with his hand still in your hair, Henry dragged you back into his cabin and shoved you onto his bed, uncaring that you would get the blankets and mattress wet.

Stomping across the cabin, he retrieved a coil of twine that was on a sideboard and crossed back to you. Yanking your arms up, Henry tightly weaved the rough twine around your wrists and tied it off, leaving a length of it hang from it, before cutting the excess with a small knife that was in his belt. Taking the lead of your bonds, Henry tied it to one of the bed posts.

“You're a fool.” You hissed at him as he picked up his boots and jerkin, closing the window as well.

“Am I?” He laughed, tossing his jerkin over the back of his chair.

“My father doesn't suffer Pirates.” You replied, jerking on your bonds. “He never has and he never will. You may think you'll get what you want. But, the moment he has me. He will kill you.” You told him with a deep conviction.

“He's been killing Pirates, better than you, before you were alive.”

Henry turned towards you, eyes wide with focus as he regarded you and digested your words, but before he could answer you, the door flew open and Nullings came flying in, skidding to a stop as he noticed you tied to the bed, then looked to Henry with a questioning look.

“What's the word?” Henry asked, ignoring his expression.

Clearing his throat, Nullings replied. “The Governor has replied to our ransom, he'll meet us at Hafstead island with our demands in exchange for the girl, tomorrow afternoon.”

Henry gripped the back of his chair, drumming his fingers against the carved dark wood, then glanced over at you, before pushing off his chair and hustled out of the cabin with Nullings, closing the door behind them.

“It's a set up.” Henry told him, keeping his voice low.

“What?” Nullings snapped, brow and forehead creasing. “Why do you say that?”

“Something she said.” He replied, carding a hand through his drying curls. “I want you to go back into town, find a girl her height and appearance..”

“I'm sure the man knows what his own flesh and blood looks like, Hank.” Nullings huffed, shaking his head. “Be real.”

“Listen to me.” Henry growled back, chest heaving. “Cover her head, so they don't see her face. That way, we find out just how truthful the dear old Governor is being. Take everything they bring for the ransom, only after everything loaded, will you give her to them.”

“And where will she be?”

“With me.” Henry replied. “I know Hafstead island, I know a good place to keep her. If anything goes wrong, I'll take her back aboard here, we'll all come back to the ship and head for our island.”

“You want to take her back to Shipwreck Island, if something goes awry?”

“That was the deal.” Henry barked at him. “His refusal to pay, would forfeit her to my mercy.”

“What do you bloody plan to do with her?” Nullings asked, exasperated.

“I'll figure something out.” He replied, unperturbed. “Do you understand the plan, Ben?”

Nullings tapped his foot, antsy, as he ran through the plan in his head, things were getting so much more complicated than he anticipated.

“Yeah, yeah!” He sighed, giving in. “I got it, Hank.”

“Great, get about it.” Henry smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder and going back into his cabin. “You and I, my sweet pet.” He grinned, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Have a date tomorrow.”

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jeannereames · 3 years

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Hi, Dr. Reames! I just read your take on Song of Achilles and it got me thinking. Do you think there might be a general issue with the way women are written in mlm stories in general? Because I don't think it's the first time I've seen something like this happen.

And my next question is, could you delve further into this thing you mention about modern female authors writing women? How could we, beginner female writers, avoid falling into this awful representations of women in our writing?

Thank you for your time!

[It took a while to finish this because I wrote, re-wrote, and re-wrote it. Still not sure I like it, but I need to let it go. It could be 3xs as long.]

I’ll begin with the second half of the question, because it’s simpler. How do we, as women authors, avoid writing women in misogynistic ways?

Let me reframe that as how can we, as female authors, write negative (even quite nasty) female characters without falling into misogynistic tropes? Also, how can we write unsympathetic, but not necessarily “bad” female characters, without it turning misogynistic?

Because people are people, not genders, not all women are good, nor all men bad. Most of us are a mix. If we should avoid assuming powerful women are all bitches, by the same token, some women are bitches (powerful or not).

ALL good characterization comes down to MOTIVE. And careful characterization of minority characters involves fair REPRESENTATION. (Yes, women are a minority even if we’re 51% of the population.)

The question ANY author must ask: why am I making this female character a bitch? How does this characterization serve the larger plot and/or characterization? WHY is she acting this way?

Keep characters complex, even the “bad guys.” Should we choose to make a minority character a “bad guy,” we need to have a counter example—a real counter, not just a token who pops in briefly, then disappears. Yeah, maybe in an ideal world we could just let our characters “be,” but this isn’t an ideal world. Authors do have an audience. I’m a lot less inclined to assume stereotyping when we have various minority characters with different characterizations.

By the same token, however, don’t throw a novel against the wall if the first minority character is negative. Read further to decide if it’s a pattern. I’ve encountered reviews that slammed an author for stereotyping without the reader having finished the book. I’m thinking, “Uh…if you’d read fifty more pages….” Novels have a developmental arc. And if you’ve got a series, that, too, has a developmental arc. One can’t reach a conclusion about an author’s ultimate presentation/themes until having finished the book, or series.*

Returning to the first question, the appearance of misogyny depends not only on the author, but also on when she wrote, even why she’s writing. Authors who are concerned with matters such as theme and message are far more likely to think about such things than those who write for their own entertainment and that of others, which is more typical of Romance.

On average, Romance writers are a professionalized bunch. They have national and regional chapters of the Romance Writers of America (RWA), newsletters and workshops that discuss such matters as building plot tension, character dilemmas, show don’t tell, research tactics, etc. Yet until somewhat recently (early/mid 2010s), and a series of crises across several genres (not just Romance), treatment of minority groups hadn’t been in their cross-hairs. Now it is, with Romance publishers (and publishing houses more generally) picking up “sensitivity readers” in addition to the other editors who look at a book before its publication.

Yet sensitivity readers are hired to be sure lines like “chocolate love monkey” do not show up in a published novel. Yes, that really was used as an endearment for a black man in an M/M Romance, which (deservedly) got not just the author but the publishing house in all sorts of hot water. Yet misogyny, especially more subtle misogyny in the way of tropes, is rarely on the radar.

I should add that I wouldn’t categorize The Song of Achilles as an M/M historical Romance. In fact, I’m not sure what to call novels about myths, as myths don’t exist in actual historical periods. When should we set a novel about the Iliad? The Bronze Age, when Homer said it happened, or the Greek Dark Age, which is the culture Homer actually described? They’re pretty damn different. I’d probably call The Song of Achilles an historical fantasy, especially as mythical creatures are presented as real, like centaurs and god/desses.

Back to M/M Romance: I don’t have specific publishing stats, but it should surprise no one that (like most of the Romance genre), the vast bulk of authors of M/M Romance are women, often straight and/or bi- women. The running joke seems to be, If one hot man is good, two hot men together are better. 😉 Yes, there are also trans, non-binary and lesbian authors of M/M Romance, and of course, bi- and gay men who may write under their own name or a female pseudonym, but my understanding is that straight and bi- cis-women authors outnumber all of them.

Just being a woman, or even a person in a female body, does not protect that author from misogyny. And if she’s writing for fun, she may not be thinking a lot about what her story has to “say” in its subtext and motifs, even if she may be thinking quite hard about other aspects of story construction. This can be true of other genres as well (like historical fantasy).

What I have observed for at least some women authors is the unconscious adoption of popular tropes about women. Just as racism is systemic, so is sexism. We swim in it daily, and if one isn’t consciously considering how it affects us, we can buy into it by repeating negative ideas and acting in prescribed ways because that’s what we learned growing up. If writing in a symbol-heavy genre such as mythic-driven fantasy, it can be easy to let things slip by—even if they didn’t appear in the original myth, such as making Thetis hostile to Patroklos, the classic Bitchy Mother-in-Law archetype.

I see this sort of thing as “accidental” misogyny. Women authors repeat unkind tropes without really thinking them through because it fits their romantic vision. They may resent it and get defensive if the trope is pointed out. “Don’t harsh my squee!” We can dissect why these tropes persist, and to what degree they change across generations—but that would end up as a (probably controversial) book, not a blog entry. 😊

Yet there’s also subconscious defensive misogyny, and even conscious/semi-conscious misogyny.

Much debate/discussion has ensued regarding “Queen Bee Syndrome” in the workplace and whether it’s even a thing. I think it is, but not just for bosses. I also would argue that it’s more prevalent among certain age-groups, social demographics, and professions, which complicates recognizing it.

What is Queen Bee Syndrome? Broadly, when women get ahead at the expense of their female colleagues who they perceive as rivals, particularly in male-dominated fields, hinging on the notion that There Can Be Only One (woman). It arises from systemic sexism.

Yes, someone can be a Queen Bee even with one (or two) women buddies, or while claiming to be a feminist, supporting feminist causes, or writing feminist literature. I’ve met a few. What comes out of our mouths doesn’t necessarily jive with how we behave. And ticking all the boxes isn’t necessary if you’re ticking most of them. That said, being ambitious, or just an unpleasant boss/colleague—if its equal opportunity—does not a Queen Bee make. There must be gender unequal behavior involved.

What does any of that have to do with M/M fiction?

The author sees the women characters in her novel as rivals for the male protagonists. It gets worse if the women characters have some “ownership” of the men: mothers, sisters, former girlfriends/wives/lovers. I know that may sound a bit batty. You’re thinking, Um, aren’t these characters gay or at least bi- and involved with another man, plus—they’re fictional? Doesn’t matter. Call it fantasizing, authorial displacement, or gender-flipped authorial insert. We authors (and I include myself in this) can get rather territorial about our characters. We live in their heads and they live in ours for months on end, or in many cases, years. They’re real to us. Those who aren't authors often don’t quite get that aspect of being an author. So yes, sometimes a woman author acts like a Queen Bee to her women characters. This is hardly all, or even most, but it is one cause of creeping misogyny in M/M Romance.

Let’s turn to a related problem: women who want to be honorary men. While I view this as much more pronounced in prior generations, it’s by no means disappeared. Again, it’s a function of systemic sexism, but further along the misogyny line than Queen Bees. Most Queen Bees I’ve known act/react defensively, and many are (imo) emotionally insecure. It’s largely subconscious. More, they want to be THE woman, not an honorary man.

By contrast, women who want to be honorary men seem to be at least semi-conscious of their misogyny, even if they resist calling it that. These are women who, for the most part, dislike other women, regard most of “womankind” as either a problem or worthless, and think of themselves as having risen above their gender.

And NO, this is not necessarily religious—sometimes its specifically a-religious.

“I want to be an honorary man” women absolutely should NOT be conflated with butch lesbians, gender non-conformists, or frustrated FTMs. That plays right into myths the queer community has combated for decades. There’s a big difference between expressing one’s yang or being a trans man, and a desire to escape one’s womanhood or the company of other women. “Honorary men” women aren’t necessarily queer. I want to underscore that because the concrete example I’m about to give does happen to be queer.

I’ve talked before about Mary Renault’s problematic portrayal of women in her Greek novels (albeit her earlier hospital romances don’t show it as much). Her own recorded comments make it clear that she and her partner Julie Mullard didn’t want to be associated with other lesbians, or with women much at all. She was also born in 1905, living at a time when non-conforming women struggled. If extremely active in anti-apartheid movements in South Africa, Renault and Mullard were far less enthused by the Gay Rights Movement. Renault even criticized it, although she wrote back kindly to her gay fans.

The women in Renault’s Greek novels tend to be either bitches or helpless, reflecting popular male perceptions of women: both in ancient Greece and Renault’s own day. If we might argue she’s just being realistic, that ignores the fact one can write powerful women in historical novels and still keep it attitudinally accurate. June Rachuy Brindel, born in 1919, author of Ariadne and Phaedra, didn’t have the same problem, nor did Martha Rofheart, born in 1917, with My Name is Sappho. Brindel’s Ariadne is much more sympathetic than Renault’s (in The King Must Die).

Renault typically elevates (and identifies with) the “rational” male versus the “irrational” female. This isn’t just presenting how the Greeks viewed women; it reflects who she makes the heroes and villains in her books. Overall, “good” women are the compliant ones, and the compliant women are tertiary characters.

Women in earlier eras who were exceptional had to fight multiple layers of systemic misogyny. Some did feel they had to become honorary men in order to be taken seriously. I’d submit Renault bought into that, and it (unfortunately) shows in her fiction, as much as I admire other aspects of her novels.

So I think those are the three chief reasons we see women negatively portrayed in M/M Romance (or fiction more generally), despite being written by women authors.

------------------------------------

*Yeah, yeah, sometimes it’s such 2D, shallow, stereotypical presentation that I, as a reader, can conclude this author isn’t going to get any better. Also, the publication date might give me a clue. If I’m reading something published 50 years ago, casual misogyny or racism is probably not a surprise. If I don’t feel like dealing with that, I close the book and put it away.

But I do try to give the author a chance. I may skim ahead to see if things change, or at least suggest some sort of character development. This is even more the case with a series. Some series take a loooong view, and characters alter across several novels. Our instant-gratification world has made us impatient. Although by the same token, if one has to deal with racism or sexism constantly in the real world, one may not want to have to watch it unfold in a novel—even if it’s “fixed” later. If that’s you, put the book down and walk away. But I’d just suggest not writing a scathing review of a novel (or series) you haven’t finished. 😉

#misogyny in m/m romance #how to avoid misogyny writing women characters #writing complicated women characters #asks #writing life #writing advice

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