#the bisexual agenda was furthered that day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tuiyla · 1 year

Note

"idk if anyone watched that “Ryan Murphy is problematic” video on youtube but tell me I’m not the only one who found it an unfair and lacking in nuance take" can you expand on your problems with that video? 🤔

Okay so it's a half an hour video, available here, so I won't touch on every single point they bring up. From the get-go, my problem is that the vast majority of the talking points are based on nothing but conjecture and what Ryan Murphy is supposedly like as a producer but also more so as a person. I get that producers work with and are in charge of people but I find it inherently, hmm, well, let's repurpose the word "problematic" to try and draw conclusions about people based on their work, rather than just examining their work. I'm all for criticizing Ryan Murphy's work, and yeah sometimes we speculate what personal agendas or even vendettas could have been influencing said work, but this whole video simply doesn't justify its existence to me. There's simultaneously an aversion to drawing any sort of conclusion, since it is just a summary of rumours and allegations, but also a clear judgement in the way these rumours are presented.

Like I said I don't wanna touch on everything but just a few moments in particular to get a sense of what I mean:

The two sections on RM "hating" Chris Colfer and Dianna Agron. Sometimes I think the Glee fandom gets so immersed in its own mythology it forgets that so many of these universally agreed-upon truths are just rumours perpetuated by tabloids and tiktok teenagers. I've had an ask about that Rolling Stone interview sit in my inbox for a while so maybe one day I'll dissect the Dianna of it all, but the way this video uses pure conjecture to speculate even further just creates more and more unsubstantiated claims. The dots connected between Ryan's tweet about "Quinn" filming in Europe and the New Normal stuff is like, come on, where do we draw the conspiracy theory lines. And as another example of trying to substantiate conjecture with more conjecture, the Ashley Fink rumours coupled with the Lea Michele ones. I won't get into it here, it's in the video presented in such a bizarre way, imo. "Here's this malicious rumour, I know we have to take it with a grain of salt so here's another rumour to back it up." That's not how it works. But it is the nature of videos like this that they can't bring anything new because we don't have the facts, so they just regurgitate decade-old rumours and try to pass judgement on people we do not and never will know. Adding "...allegedly!" at the end of claims does not make the framing of this any better.

The biphobia section, which is so emblematic of Gleeks being ultra ready to blame everything wrong with Glee on Ryan Muprhy - and sometimes give him all the credit, too, which just does not work on any TV show, let alone one with three showrunners. Now, we won't get into the actual biphobia of it all because I'm sure I've spoken about it somewhere and I don't think whether Ryan Murphy is biphobic is the point. The point is that you can look at the text, Glee, and criticise its approach towards bisexuality and you'd be right to do so. But you can't just imply or outright say that this one writer out of three main ones, or later one of many, is responsible for it all, much less say that it reflects his personal beliefs. It's also wild to speculate on whether Brittana would have happened if it was only up to Ryan; credit Brad Falchuk (and Naya) by all means but it's just really running with conjecture to imply that Ryan himself never would have made Brittany bi. We just don't know "what if" and what's the point in trying to say stuff like "Ryan agreed, but WHAT IF Brad wasn't there" like come on, how is that a valid claim against Ryan Murphy. I certainly don't think it is in the way it's presented. Again, Glee's biphobia is fucked up. Again, I actually do have beef with RM regarding biphobia in particular. But this is all presented in such a tabloidy gotcha way and that doesn't sit well with me.

In general it's a lot of "maybe this doesn't mean, a grain of salt, BUT have you considered this other rumour and how it all adds up?" And no, I don't think it does and I don't like the way all of this is framed, where you're encouraged to make of it what you will but there's a very clear direction in which you're being steered. Which makes sentences like "I do normally try not to bring up things that are purely speculation" w i l d because, to me, so many of these are. Based on a kernel of truth or twisted from something factual, sure, but twisted nonetheless and the conclusions drawn can in no way be definitive. Just because these are all widespread rumours that doesn't make them not rumours.

There are other things like trying to use Naya's dad's tweets as a source and a, idk, gotcha moment against Ryan Murphy. "Still heavily questioned whether or not that's true," they say about Ryan's statement, but that short section becomes emblematic of the whole approach. Take Ryan's statements and defense with a heavy dose of skepticism but imply that claims against him are somehow more substantial. I just don't like the bias, the lack of true nuance, the lack of a point, really. And again blaming everything that happened on Glee, even stuff he didn't actually write on Ryan Murphy is just grasping at every possible straw to round out this video on him being "problematic". Still hate that word.

To be perfectly clear, this is not me coming at the person who made this video, I'm sure they're lovely and are just doing their thing on youtube. I just don't find it any more substantial than a buzzfeed article listing all the Glee bts rumours relating to Ryan Murphy. (I didn't touch on Dahmer simply because I can't and don't care to, plus most of the video is Glee-related anyway.)

#anon #glee asks #ryan murphy #glee production #kinda look i need a tag for things like this the nonglee one has been taken over #there were just so many bits in this video where i had to go #'no actually that's not how it works #that's pure conjecture that's bs you don't know that' etc etc #but that's all i wanted to sort of rant about that #and if anything it's against the whole glee gossip machine and the way in which we feel entitled to cast and creators #not against this channel and this video in particular #okay well i do have more to say on the topic of how everyone still looooves the glee drama and to bathe in it #and how that's the exact reason we need ATWYRM because god was that two parter with rm such a breath of fresh air

1 note · View note

cherryblossomsno1fan · 3 years

Text

more meaningless sk8 headcanons

reki and langa's favorite duet to dance in just dance is can't take my eyes off of you

oka is reki's uncle (mom's brother)

reki tries to give shadow the intimidating talk when he starts dating oka but he fails really hard and ends up laughing his ass off while shadow is just there Confused

cherry named carla after his niece who he loves a lot (i can elaborate on this further)

reki is a harry styles bisexual

reki listened to sweater weather before he knew that it was kind of a bisexual song and one day he was just listening to it with earbuds on and one of his classmates said "hey are you listening to sweater weather?" and he's like "yeah i love this song!" and they're like "oh my god same! are you also... you know?" and he's like "what" and they're like "what" and they explain to him and he's like "oh. wait-" and he just kinda reevaluates his whole life and then a week or so later he comes up to this classmate and says really proudly "i DO listen to sweater weather!" and they immediately understand and they hug bc yay two bisexuals

shadow has a really bad amount of internalized homophobia and it's a huge fucking problem and it never really leaves

reki introduces miya to his sister bc they're around the same age and they become really good friends (their main hobby is gagging at reki and langa and making fun of reki)

joe doesn't actually believe in astrology but he pretends he does just to piss off cherry, who thinks astrology is the dumbest shit ever

everyone thinks shadow's music taste is rock/metal music because of his aesthetic but one day miya used his phone for spotify and found out that he listens to a bunch of dancey songs and shit like that from the 90's (like britney spears,,, yknow)

half italian joe half italian joe hALF ITALIAN JOE GODDAMNIT

adding to ^ that, joe listens to a bunch of old italian songs and often plays them in the restaurant (HELP NO MATCHABLOSSOM BRAIN WENT "lol them slow dancing to old italian songs lol think about it")

joe unironically listens to macarena and has to do the dance every time. it's his legal obligation. he has to do it every time he hears it. no matter where he is.

cherry knows this and has carla play the macarena during one of their beefs and joe is like "FUCK YOU" but does it anyways

they both lost in the end because cherry lost his shit laughing (they both fell at the same time so it was considered a tie)

miya wouldn't stop giving them shit about it for weeks because they both literally looked like complete wrecks (cherry almost broke his leg and joe did, in fact, dislocate his elbow), like he would look at them and burst out laughing

one time miya laughed so hard at them that he fell from his chair face first and broke his nose which is the only reason he stopped laughing (it hurt to laugh, literally)

reki is so used to kissing his sisters' minor injuries when they like fall or scrape their knees that it's become a habit and while this does open up renga opportunities please let me enlighten you with the idea of Big Bro Reki treating one of miya's scrapes (either a tumble or he tripped or smth idk man bear with me) and accidentally smooching his arm or smth out of habit and miya kinda cries a little

also, this angsty shit is brought to you by my gf who likes to make me SUFFER: after reki and langa's fight, one of his younger sisters sees that reki is really upset and crying, so she goes up to him and kisses his chest to make him feel better

ITALIAN JOE TIME ok so joe's mom is italian and when she met his father she didn't really know much japanese and her pronunciation was so weird so instead of calling his father by full name she called him "joe" for short (and it was easier for her to pronounce) and when he was born it kind of became a little nickname his mom gave him

reki listens to paramore NO i am not taking criticism on this

when they were like kids cherry and joe promised to each other that at their weddings, they would be each other's best man; skip to when they got engaged, joe is like "oh no,,, oh my god we didn't think about this did we" and cherry thinks that he wants to call off the engagement and kinda panics for a few seconds but then joe said "who will be our best men??" and cherry is like "OH THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN-" and then kinda smacks him for scaring him but also is really mushy inside that joe remembered

whenever joe speaks to cherry in italian (complimenting him and being romantic and all that) cherry immediately assumes that joe is insulting him and gets mad (when really he's telling him his eyes are beautiful)

whoops accidentally made this one about the Matchablossom Agenda oh well promise there'll be more tadashi and adam content in the next one

340 notes · View notes

darkellaine · 3 years

Text

On Loki series

I don't usually write here anything as this is mostly my art blog but I do want to say a few words. If you like the series, you may skip this post bc I appreciate it when people enjoy things as they are and I do not want to inpose my take on the series on anyone.

To the matter.

Now, after the 5th episode has come out, I find myself saddened and baffled at the same moment. Maybe I was victimized by my own great expectations from the show or my headganons grew in my head like a tumours - so big and engrossing that there was no space left to be filled with what seems to be a fresh perspective.

I don't see Loki anymore. He was still there in the first episode yet the more we ventured into the new territory the harder was it to me to understand why he acts like this (sabotages everything he does, has no agenda and is a follower - of Mobius at first and then of Sylvie). Initially I thought his reckless behavior was either a plan of his or just the recercussions of the exposure to his destiny he saw at TVA. Now, after seeing 4th and 5th episodes I see that the show doesn't actually need any explanation to turn Loki into a type person who he himself criticized throughout all the MCU movies. And that is a character who rushes headfast into the fight, who doesn't think, doesn't plot, has a careless attitude. Like Thor. And now Sylvie is smth similar to what Loki was to Thor, except Loki doesn't really have any of the strenghts of the traditional lead hero.

He was shown casually using telekinesis like it was nothing but it didn't move the plot. On the contrary, it created more questions and possibly plotholes for audience that ectually expects some kind of consistency from the narrative. In really needed situations he doesn't do anything similar and I don't see what Tom was so excited about. This showcase was just like his shirtless scene, a superficial fanservice. (Not that we aren't allowed, we certainly do. Yet if you a fan of a character, you can't really escape taking a deeper look into everything.)

His Jotun heritage and abilities. I can't believe ep. 5 missed any opportunity to show a Jotun Loki. It was such a great opportunity to set up a dialogue between them, to point to Loki's inner hate and insecurities he might have. Yet what we got just a bunch of bizzare lokis from some crack fanfiction. I see they were aiming for the humour and lighter tone but maybe they shouldn't have? Not after the first episode and the setting they established. I wonder could it be the result of different scriptwriters thet were forced to attune but still didn't manage to do so.

Loki's bisexuality looks more like a distraction than actual representation. Yes, I know that bi people could be both with men and women, etc. but so far it was again like Joe Russo's gay character in the Endgame. Irrelevant bait everyone took that didn't actually affect the show or plot . Wasn't it for the hype, Ig most of writers would exclude this from the plotline at all as it is just extra.

Self-love plotline. I suppose that Sylvie and Loki love story was supposed to address self-acceptance and self-forgiveness? Well it doesn't work like this. Those two are absolutely different characters. They share only part of the outfit, some abilities and a few memories of Asgard - that's it. I don't feel like they are different versions of the same person. This dynamic would've worked with old!Loki by Richard Grant as he indeed has some things to teach our Loki and to strip him of his defences in order to reveal what in fact prevents Loki from outgrowing himself.

My general impression is that Loki is becoming to be tiring to watch. Idk how did they make it but I now find him quite bland and uninteresting at this point. I don't know who is behind the TVA but without the possiblity that it was old Loki pulling the strings all along I don't really see the further development for him. Looks like everything we got in relation to his identity and past was indeed just the first episode. All of a sudden Loki looks at peace and unperturbed, ready to abandon all his strivings and inferiorities he has been developing through his entire life. While the authors kept underlining the fact that it is 2012!Loki and he is still a villain.

But it was just a few days for Loki, and he says so himself...

The series still good a few good things, though.

Personally, I really enjoyed the second episode as it showcased Loki's intelligence, had nice, witty dialogues, Loki and Mobius chemistry and tempo.

Music is excellent throughout all the show. I daresay music is even more spirited sometimes. I look forward to the sixth episode to finally see what it was all about...

#loki series #loki spoilers #loki series negativity #mcu #dianey+#disappointed but not surprised

44 notes · View notes

metanoiamorii · 3 years

Text

Wip Re-Introduction: A Rope In Hand

❛Horror is like a serpent; always shedding its skin, always changing. And it will always come back. It can’t be hidden away like the guilty secrets we try to keep in our subconscious.❜

♧ Title: A Rope In Hand [ARIH]

♧ Status: First Drafting

♧ Point of View: Third Person, flexible between a few

♧ Genre: Dark Fantasy, Supernatural, LGBTQ+, Action, Drama

♧ Warnings: This story revolves around the occult. There will be talk of witch hunts and trials and cults. There will be torture methods used to gain confessions, and these methods will be justified under religious belief. There will be toxic and abusive relationships, particularly family; finding an escape from them, and healing from the trauma. There will be homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and colonization. There will be major character deaths, but I can spoil after the book ends the main characters do get a happy ending. Each chapter and scene posted will have personalized warnings, but these are the main things to expect.

♧ Featuring: The majority of the characters will be LGBTQ+, from pansexual, homosexual, to asexual; genderfluid, agender/nonbinary, and transgender. Each character is complex and morally grey. Yes, they will do things that are blatantly terrible, or actively good. Overall, they will be morally grey and questionable at best. There will be complex world-building, from both the universe it takes place in, and the religious pantheons brought up. The religions brought up will be polytheistic and animism-themed. The romance between the major characters will be slow-burn enemies to friend to lovers, and them learning to love themselves through one another. There will be an exploration on generational healing, and unlearning toxic, and bias believes.

♧ Setting: The setting is influenced by Victorian London, and Medieval Ireland. There will be mention of other places, primarily western Europe, the Ottoman Empire, Ancient Rome, Eastern Asia, and Napoleonic France.

♧ Synopsis:

In the town of Arkaley, in the northwest of the Duchy of Ruairc, the people have been plagued by bad fortune and crime. Attacks of bandits on the road, raids from pirates on the shores, untimely deaths of children and young women, elected officials coming out corrupt; there is no end in Arkaley of the suffering the locals endure.

Rationally, to explain such a bad string of luck, there is only one possible explanation: Witchcraft.

The Duchy of Ruairc already has a history of witchcraft: the Ó Ruaircs turned out to be witches, the Abondé incident in Salem, the Liathain incident in Trakee; the Ruaircs have their record. Perfectly acceptable for everyone to assume the worse of the Ruairish, as they have proved to be nothing but.

To prove his worth, the young Reverend Prudence Clemency Frye, takes up the task of quelling this coven of witches and heading this witch-hunt. Young and naïve, witch only knowledge from books and little hands-on experience, he’s unprepared for this challenge. When he finally leaves the town, well… everyone would rather put this incident behind them.

♧ Tease:

My darling dear, a knave so clear

You appear, so bravely near;

Do you hear my darling dear, sneers of austere jeers?

Behave, my dear, when I am near;

For peers will lear, in their fear,

Allow me o' dear our persevere

So my fave you appear

And volunteer a slave so dear

in an atmosphere we fear.

my darling dear, wave so clear

Depravely as we leave, and give a souvenir;

My lips to yours, as you crave in these fallin' years.

Be brave darling dear, and give into hearts o' queer.

For mine you be, your darling dear,

To the stars you have swore in love, so crystal clear.

My peers shall sneer, but whore I be, and you I crave

Oh so bare. slurs and glares, just listen to my prayers.

Kiss me love, and leave o'they to a'crave

In this atmosphere that we fear

Their own, o' pure, knave so dear.

♧ Excerpt:

".... This is wrong." Prudence finds the words slipping from his lips, voice a quiet whisper; a breathless tone of voice. He allows his fingertips to falter against scarred skin, watching as Mastema turned his cheek, he pressed himself into the palm of Prudence's hand. Eyes closed, a smile curled on his face. Prudence couldn't help but smile at the scene, but slowly, slowly, slowly, he rescinded his hand; breaking the hold.

"Revered..." Matching his voice, Mastema replied. Maintaining such a soft voice, as he shifted himself forward on the bed. One foot to the ground, the other drawn beneath himself. Over Prudence he leaned, resting one palm to the sheets, the other lifting to seize Prudence's hand before he could recoil back. "You have made me feel something in which I've never felt before..."

From where he laid, Prudence could only form a soft frown. He knew he could draw his hand back, the grip was far from tight. But he didn't. He laid there, allowing Mastema to hold his hand. "... This is wrong, Mastema."

Mastema frowned; he matched the reaction Prudence wore. Through it, he forced a half-smile, tightening his grip on the other's hand, and forward he brought Prudence's hands to kiss the knuckles. "... If this is wrong, I do not wish to be right."

At the response, Prudence shook his head. "It is not for us to be right or wrong, the gods—"

At the angle he sat, Mastema shifted once more. He dropped Prudence's hand, to lean forward; to lean in close. Both of his palms found the other's cheek, as he touched their foreheads to one another. "... Do not force your will onto another." In that soft whisper, he spoke. Eyes closed, breath drawn in. "Is that not a Commandment of our Creator?"

"I..." Prudence faltered. In, he drew his breath, to try to steady himself. "... I did not take you for the religious sorts."

"I'm not." Mastema all too quickly retorted. But as he was, he laid; this proximity. "But you are."

♧ Characters:

The Order of Witchesbane

Prudence Clemency Frye; The Reverend

Half Fae/Half Human • Intersex • Genderfluid • He/They • Homosexual • Homo-demiromantic

The bastard son of Lord Zachariah Frye. Raised by his father, with his mother dying young, he took to following in his footsteps. He became a religious young man and an active witch-hunter. A part of him desires his father’s acceptance, his praises; the other part despises his father and everything the man stands for. In recent years, he has joined the De La Cruz household, becoming an apprentice beneath the famous Witch’s Advocate; upholding the beliefs that not every witch is evil and has foul intentions, and the ones that mean harm are the only ones that should be hunted.

Zachariah Frye; The Bloodhound

Human • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest living member of the Order. Now he is the man that holds the face of the Order, who you think of when they come to mind. Cold. Vindictive. Despotic. Violent. He is not a good man. He is firm in his beliefs and stubborn to change. Once his mind is made up, he cannot be reasoned with. He is blindly convinced of his beliefs and his cause to eradicate every living witch, unfazed if he has to fill a few innocent thousands in the process.

Calisto Ferzan Hermengildo Melchior Lorencio De La Cruz; The Witch’s Advocate

Half Fae/Half Human • Amab • Nonbinary • Genderfluid • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

A witch-hunter in title alone, Calisto has been making enemies since he could first talk. He’s always enjoyed being the underdog, going against the expectations of society, being ridiculed by his peers. The sole reason? Proving them wrong. To ridicule his own peers for their outdated beliefs, he’s taken to defending witches, proving them innocent of their ‘crimes’, and going on to help them to set up a life in a country more accepting of witchcraft

The servant of Calisto, never seen far from his side. He is a servant in name alone and is more-or-less an assassin, a hitman for Calisto. Held in contempt by Athylian society for being a foreigner, he often treated by others more as a slave than a servant. To help be unseen, to help the De La Cruz Household, Michelotto endures the treatment and goes as far to be perceived as ignorant, alongside him being born a mute. Keeping his true intents and intelligence duly guarded, only a handful are aware he is also a witch.

Myk'loumihr [Michelotto Dougal] Siavash; The Man-Servant

Witch; Amab • Agender • He/They • Asexual • Aromantic

Austin Duvine; The Lord Without A Ring

Half-Human/Half Fae • Amab • Nonbinary • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

One of the younger members of the order, Austin relies on his father's wealth and name. He doesn't care for responsibilities, he doesn't care for hard work. He's a playboy at heart. He's fit to hold social events, and use his natural talent to gib and fib his way through life. He'll keep his mixed feelings to himself, struggling with doing the right thing or upholding tradition.

Alistair Lavine; The Witchfinder General

Human • Amab • Agender • He/They • Bicurious • Aromantic

The best friend to Zachariah and his right hand. Where Zachariah is business and lacks charms, Alistair can charm a crowd and hold their attention. He knows how to feign being an ideal human, without letting on his own bloodlust; he's a monster in human skin. At the end of the day, unlike Zachariah, Alistair does have morals and standards he will abide by, even if they come back to ruin him.

━━━━━━━━━━

The Vakari Coven

Ausrine Baoghal; The Lady

Witch • Female • She/Her • Bisexual • Aromantic

The woman in charge of the town, widowed and inheriting the right to rule as her husband had no heirs. She is a manipulative and dangerous woman, eager to commit any sin or crime for more power. She, in truth, cares only for herself and would feel no remorse if she had to turn on one of her coven to further her own agenda.

The magistrate and also the chief policeman of the town. He maintains a calm, but manipulative personality. As a front, he presents himself to be fair and just, liked and favored by the people for genuinely caring for them. While in truth he has his own heinous and sinister agenda, aiding Ausrine in her plans.

Leary O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate

Witch • Male • He/Him • Bicurious • Aromantic

The oldest member of the coven, Dairine lives under the guise of an elderly woman, who lives alone with her children and grandchildren already leaving her to live their own lives. She is a kind and understanding woman and cares for the younger witches in the coven. She will not support Baríon with her agenda, nor does she care for the servant girl, she even despises the so-called ally Ausrine claims to have and who they all adhere to.

Dairine Ó Séaghdha; The Crone

Witch • Afab • Agender • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The acting servant of Barion, Anisha’s true loyalties lie elsewhere. She stays within the town, serving the coven while acting as the eyes and ears of someone, the person who is truly pulling the strings. She is the one to relay information and letters between the coven and her master. She is a quiet woman, that keeps her head down and her mind to herself. She only shows her true, confident and demanding, nature behind closed doors with the coven when they dare to question her.

Anisha Kaur; The Servant

Witch • Afab • Demigirl • She/They • Asexual • Aromantic

The charming son of Leary. Many whisper that is part fae, due to his charm, if it’s true or not many are unaware. He is a very sophisticated young man, that has managed to wrap the entire town around his finger. While on the surface he is alike his father is a caring, compassionate, charming young man, something sinister brews beneath. He is devious, demanding, domineering.

Nathir O'Laoghaire; The Magistrate’s Son

Half-Witch/Half-Fae • Amab • Agender • He/Him • Bisexual • Aromantic

Being the baker's daughter, Liannah helps around the bakery and family business. Unlike the company she keeps, she is a reserved young woman. She is polite and maintains her manners with whomever she is dealing with. She has the patience of a saint and rarely loses her cool. Liannah is a woman with a calm demeanor about her, being a woman many are comfortable around due to her peaceful and calm aura.

Liannah Ó Buachalla; The Baker’s Daughter

Witch • Afab • Genderfluid • She/They • Asexual • Panromantic

Ausrine's bastard son she had with a spirit she bargained with for more power. Since he was young, he was raised by the servants of the house, and the coven, over his own mother; the two have more of a business relationship over a family one. Since he cares less about what his mother does, he spends his time with Liannah and Reyes, either at the bakery or getting into trouble somewhere. With Reyes as an influence, Mastema is a flirtatious man that enjoys scandals and making the most of life

Mastema Baoghal; The Knave

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Genderfluid • He/They • Pansexual • Demiromantic

Rochan Misra; The Charlatan

Half-Witch/Half-Spirit • Amab • Queer • He/She • Pansexual • Aromantic

A foreigner to the Coven, born and raised in the Duchy of Incali. At a young age, he became a traveling charlatan, recently settling within the coven only as he befriended Liannah and Mastema and enjoyed their company. Now, he is the local bad influence: scamming locals out of their money at the taverns, wooing and seducing young men and ladies alike, always trespassing and vandalizing something. He is trouble but has a heart of gold when it matters.

ARIH: : @hekat-ie, @writings-of-a-narwhal, @silent-creed

━━━━━━━━━━

Taglist:

General: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @alexwritesfiction, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings

Both: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark

48 notes · View notes

jageunyeoujari · 3 years

Text

reading mina kumar’s representations of indian lesbianism in “the very inside: an anthology of writing by asian and pacific islander lesbian and bisexual women” that looks at english translations of historical representations & modern day representations by south asian lesbians & how their interpretation work within certain indian & western / colonial & anti-colonial agendas/frameworks... briefly it traces the arthashastra to the kama sutra & shift from written to visual images then contact w the west including freud’s view on lesbianism as being a product of all-girls schools & “the cult of romantic friendship” & then anthropological studies of the normalization of sexual relations between women in villages... & in the 90s, rising material by south asian lesbians within the context of a gay rights movement.

there’s also the appropriation & distortion of south asian lesbian history to support certain white western political agendas:

In the West, there has been considerable pornographic interest in the sexually variant Other [...] A similar ahistorical interest developed when both India and the Sexual Revolution came into fashion in the 60s. Examining the sexualities of other cultures was perforce a way of legitimizing variant sexuality through its universality even as other cultures were sometimes inaccurately and racistly depicted as depraved, as is case in Edwardes and Davies. Bullough, for example, uses Tantric disfavor for female virginity to generalize that "what was undesirable in the West was desirable, or at least tolerated, in India,” a notion that Rampal directly contradicts [...]

Western Lesbian-Feminists also discussed matriarchal and lesbian culture in India to legitimize their movement. Susan Calvin posits amazons in ancient India, but Judy Grahn goes further. Her naïve perspective about Kanyakumari and the misinformation of the women, Linda, whom Grahn refers to as having had an affair with a Tamil woman, make her account suspicious [...] The Indian lesbian in Western texts, therefore, is a construct related less to Indian history than to Western political movements.

which... i’ve felt similarly as a korean seeing white lgbt ppl trying to ‘include’ lgbt poc like the perceived barbarism & fetishism of other cultures’ sexuality + gender norms legitimizing ‘civilized’ white lgbt ppl’s sexuality + gender.... 🤷‍♀️

#uig.y.eon #lgbtq

22 notes · View notes

hellomynameisbisexual · 4 years

Text

5 Ways That Bi Erasure Hurts More Than Just Bisexual People

December 2, 2014 by Milo Todd

This year, Bisexual Awareness Day/Celebrate Bisexuality Day was on September 23rd.

That same day, the National LGBTQ Task Force thought it’d be a good idea to post an article entitled “Bye Bye Bi, Hello Queer,” in which leadership programs director Evangeline Weiss said “she is ready ‘to say bye bye to the word bisexuality.’

She said it does not describe her sexual orientation, and she encouraged readers to cease using the word as well as she felt it reinforced a binary concept of gender.

Let me drive that home a little more. The National LGBTQ Task Force not only thought it would be a good idea to publish an article insulting, misrepresenting, and forsaking the bisexual letter in their own name, but did so on Celebrate Bisexuality Day.

Rude.

And a fantastic example of the constant, ongoing erasure bisexual people have to deal with. This one just happened to be incredibly blatant.

What happened as a result of that article? People got pissed.

People got so pissed that the Task Force not only removed the article from their website, but posted in its place this non-apology (it keeps being referred to as an apology, but I’m not so easily pleased): “Having listened to a wide array of feedback on the timing and content, we recognize that this blog offended people. For this we sincerely apologize. It has been removed.”

In other words, “Sorry you got pissed off. Hopefully you’ll shut up if we take it down.” Which, as far as I can tell, isn’t much of an apology for a blatant disregard of an entire community of people.

Misunderstanding of the bisexual community has been the crux of biphobia’s history and the ongoing battle to erase bisexuality from the LGBTQIA+ community.

It’s a scary time to be bi, especially when your lesbian, gay, pansexual, and queer siblings and allies are calling for your blood simply because they’ve fallen victim to the mainstream agenda without realizing it. (Say what?! Jump to #5.)

It’s time for a change.

It’s time for all of us to properly understand one another and to — hope of hopes — become allies for our incredibly similar endeavors. To help initiate that friendship, I ask you, dear reader, to go through the following three steps.

Step 1: Look below. If I’ve played my cards right, virtually every reader should find at least one category with which they identify.

Step 2: Approach your designated section(s) with an open mind, an unprejudiced heart, and a desire to further enhance your own community/ies. It’s difficult for people to learn new things and see different views if they automatically approach them with resistance, which is often the case with bisexual topics.

Step 3: See how bi erasure hurts you as a person and, while you’re at it, likely hurts the people you care about. Because it really is happening.

So here are five ways in which bi erasure is hurting people of layered identities.

1. Female-Identified People and Feminists

Bisexuality is one of the only non-monosexual* identities currently recognized in the English-speaking world. If bisexuality is kept underground, it suppresses our limited, precious resources for open discussion about non-monosexuality. This hurts female-identified people and feminists regardless of their sexual orientation.

To this day, female-identified people can’t get a fair shake. Pay is unequal, birth control access is limited, and objectification is a daily thing. Non-monosexual women in particular are often not taken seriously because they’re seen as sluts, greedy, or unable to make up their minds.

Also, the general fetishizing of women is particularly intensified in the bisexual realm by (straight-identified) men, turning the very act of women’s sexual freedom, empowerment, and self-expression into nothing more than something for male gazes. (This is most often seen through the relentless prompts for female-female-male threesomes and masculine catcalls in bars when two femme-appearing women make out.)

By participating in or casually allowing bi erasure to happen, we’re ignoring the specific plights and abuses of bisexual women, thereby contributing to the ongoing problem of female inequality, objectification, and silence.

As feminists, we can’t pick and choose which women to fight for. The complexities of womanhood — and all of its cultural suppressions — are an all-or-none deal.

*Note: Non-monosexuality usually refers to someone who is interested in more than one sex or gender. (In other words, somebody who isn’t gay, lesbian, or straight.) Another way to say “non-monosexuality” would be “polysexuality” to help keep it from sounding negative.

2. Male-Identified People and Male Liberationists*

Just like with female-identified people and feminists, bi erasure hurts male-identified people and male liberationists regardless of their sexual orientation.

Allow me to make this pretty basic: Men continue to be fed the message that being gay is bad. Being gay means you’re not really a man, which means you lose your dude membership and the bulk of your male privilege. And since gayness equals the slightest shred of attraction to or intimacy with another male, all manners of bromance must be squashed.

In short, many guys live in a state of silent terror in this regard.

Bi men are afraid of being banished from the world of lady-loving, gay men are worried about losing all of their connections to hetero land, and nothing is worse for a straight man than being called a fag.

Constant monitoring, constant filtering, constant stress: Is this really the kind of world we guys want to keep living in?

By being able to talk about bisexuality — remember: one of our only non-monosexual identities — male-identified people can begin to break free from the masculine ideal.

Bi talk helps bridge the gap between being a man (straight) and not being a man (gay) and realizing, hey, having some manner of attraction to or intimate interaction with another guy is totally okay, masculinity unscathed.

Gay men can begin to regain their identities as men, bi men can finally start coming out, and “fag” will lose its strength as an insult from one straight man to another.

*Note: Male liberationists are more or less seen as allies to feminists and vice versa. Both will argue that patriarchy is bad, but while feminists talk of how it’s bad for females, male liberationists talk of how it’s bad for males. Examples include the inability to romantically or sexually love another male, the emasculation of men of color, and the physical, verbal, and mental abuse that comes from society’s expectations to be stereotypically masculine.

3. People Who Identify as Trans Sexual, Trans Gender, Genderfluid, Genderqueer, or Gender Non-Conforming

This one’s pretty easy. Some people on the trans spectrum identify as bisexual. But then they’re told they can’t or that it’s an insult to their trans siblings because bisexuality is believed to be trans-exclusive.

The problem with bi erasure is it adds to the ongoing problem of cis people — LGQ or not — telling trans people what to think. Cis people have a bad habit of thinking they need to speak for people on the trans spectrum even when trans people are quite capable of speaking for themselves. This is even more frustrating when it comes from a community supposedly meant to support them.

Despite the personhood for which they’re continuing to fight, trans people can receive backlash from the lesbian, gay, and queer communities as their identities and bodies are turned into political battlegrounds.

Sometimes, they’re used without consent by some cis individuals so that points can be made for non-trans-specific agendas, and sometimes they’re ironically used in the attempts for cis identities to help better the trans worlds.

For instance, automatically dismissing bisexuality as trans-exclusive and guilting any person on the trans spectrum that wants to identity as bisexual, if I may make so fine a point.

As blogger Aud Traher writes, “If you want to support trans people like me, don’t erase me or speak over me or cause me harm out of self-righteous biphobia. Look into yourself and deal with that internalized biphobia and then help others get over theirs. Don’t advocate for the destruction of a community in the name of ‘saving’ it. And, especially, don’t do it in my name.”

4. People Who Identify as Gay, Lesbian, or — Yes — Straight

Quite simply, it makes gays and lesbians (and straight people) look bad, too.

Bisexual people get a bad rap for apparently upholding the gender binary by saying they love only (cis) men or (cis) women, but isn’t that pretty much exactly what gays, lesbians, and straight people are saying when they identify as gay, lesbian, or straight? That they’ll only love either (cis) men or (cis) women?

But where’s their rampant backlash from the rest of the community for upholding the gender binary? I’m just sayin’.

Even when these groups extend their definitions to include trans people and people on the gender non-conforming spectrum, it’s often still as long as those trans people exhibit some manner of gender representation that falls into the lover’s category of desire.

Now, I’m honestly not trying to rag on gays, lesbians, or even straight people. They have as much right to identify how they want as anybody else. And there’s nothing wrong with feeling primarily attracted to only, say, cis or trans men if your brain simply tells you that you only like guys. That’s fine. Go ahead and do that. I’m not saying you can’t.

What I am saying is you can’t be spewing bi hate or letting bi erasure slide because 1) it’s incredibly one-sided and unfair, and 2) in the end, it’s making you look bad, too.

What do you think will happen if bi erasure is a success? You’ll be next, dears.

*cue Jaws theme*

5. People Who Identify as Queer, Pansexual, or Another Fellow Non-Monosexual

In late October, Lizzy the Lezzy — who I quite enjoy, by the way — shared a photo on her Facebook timeline explaining sexuality in terms of guests at a BBQ.

This would be all well and good if it didn’t include a glaring misconception about bisexual people, especially when compared to pansexuals. While bisexual people were defined as getting both hot dogs and hamburgers, pansexuals were defined as getting hot dogs, hamburgers, “and a salad.” Oops. What year is this again?

I’m going to make something very plain to you, dear reader: Bisexual people don’t just love (cis) men or (cis) women. That’s not how the ballpark definition goes. The “bi” in “bisexual” does not indicate a binary. Well, okay, it does indicate a binary, but probably not the one you think.

Instead of “bi” meaning a love for only cis men or cis women or otherwise putting men and women at two opposite ends of a spectrum, “bi” means a love for identities bisexual people identify with themselves and identities that they don’t.

Or, as the popular Robyn Ochs definition goes: “I call myself bisexual because I acknowledge that I have in myself the potential to be attracted – romantically and/or sexually – to people of more than one sex and/or gender, not necessarily at the same time, not necessarily in the same way, and not necessarily to the same degree.”

Look at that very closely. That’s still a binary. That’s still “bi.” And there isn’t a thing wrong with it, no exclusion to be seen.

When compared with the general concepts of pansexuals and queers, our orientations suddenly sound pretty darn similar: We love everyone.

Bisexual people get a bad rap for apparently being transphobic. While we’ve already seen a little bit in #3 as to why we aren’t, I want to further drive the point home here. A large portion of the transphobic accusations toward us come from the queer and pansexual communities, which in turn seem to derive from some serious misinformation and misdirection by the mainstream.

For the record, queers and pansexuals are cool. I like them. But the fact of the matter is that the misconception of the “bi” in “bisexual” as meaning an attraction to only (cis) men or (cis) women — and therefore upholding the gender binary — was created and imposed upon bisexual people by the mainstream. You know, the people that want the gender binary to stick around.

And some queers and pansexuals ate the propaganda they were fed? That’s terrifying. It starts to show just how large and sneaky the mainstream’s gender binary monster truly is.

By defining and erasing bisexuality on the grounds that it upholds the gender binary, pansexuals and queers are not only reinforcing the binary they so sorely wish to dismantle, but they are losing important focus on where the problem actually resides: the mainstream’s insistence to force the gender binary on non-mainstream groups such as bisexual people.

Further, holding bisexual people responsible for the abuse they’ve suffered is simply wrong. All that’s doing is blaming the victim. But, by recognizing and respecting bisexual people as they truly are, bisexual people can not only help dismantle the gender binary and put a new definition on the concept of the spectrum, but finally be allowed to team up with pansexuals and queers to crush mainstream abuse on non-mainstream identities.

Doesn’t that sound nice? I think it sounds nice.

TL;DR

Dear non-bisexual identities, please stop shooting yourselves in the foot and then wondering why you’re missing toes.

We’re here for the same reasons you are: for the right to love whoever we want and for the right for others to do the same.

So let’s finally be friends. We’re never going to get anything done if we keep spending our time putting each other down.

38 notes · View notes

fmdminaharchive · 3 years

Text

❧ an ordinary box.

date(s): june 2021 mentions of: n/a word count: 580 words (without lyrics) warnings: discussions of sexuality with references to intolerance and implied homophobia details: partial lyrics verification for ‘the box’ of minah’s upcoming album. minah is a (backyardigans vc) international superspy and somehow turns a song that’s supposed to be about the boredom of being stuck in the same cycle every single day and makes it about being a Bisexual Icon instead, right in front of the salad’s of all the writers she’s working with and no one suspects a damn thing.

na minah was playing a dangerous game, walking a very thin line between what she could get away with and uncovering just a little bit too much about herself and her personal life.

pretty ironic, she figured, while writing a song about the drag of ordinary, everyday life.

because you see, as an idol, writing a song with subtext about not being straight-conforming woven in between the lines was risky business. trying to write said subtext, however, while collaborating on the song with a bunch of company-appointed writers, that was something entirely else.

but well, bc had asked for this one, what did they expect, asking her to write on a song about feeling stuck in a box? a gross miscalculation on their part really.

an ordinary day in an ordinary box there is nothing different as expected

that had been the groundwork she had been given to work with. and honestly, minah did really like the concept and the input of the writers she was working with, so much that she almost felt bad about having a secret agenda while contributing to the song. almost being the keyword.

it wasn’t even minah being difficult on purpose it was just incredibly hard to think of the themes of the song, feeling trapped, anxious, limited, and to not think of her sexuality being under lock and key from the rest of the world, a part of her being that there was no place for in the industry as it would be considered scandalous or inappropriate.

but i still have the feeling of living inside a box

it was suffocating and tiring and minah truly believed that simply being, simply existing as she was shouldn’t be such a hard thing to achieve. of course, dating and romance were a hot topic as a whole under idols, barely tolerated to be the perfect objects of desire for people to reflect their fantasies on. but this ran deeper than that this wasn’t just about lipstick member ruby, it was about na minah the individual, the family person whose family still had no clue about her sexuality or her wonderful, wonderful girlfriend. who could count the number of friends that knew on two hands, maybe one?

if i was taken out would tomorrow be different?

while entirely pointless, of course, minah couldn’t help but entertain the thought of what it would be like if it wasn’t all such a secretive hassle, if she could go on a date with her girlfriend and actually proclaim it was a date, not just two labelmates getting along well, being such good friends. if she could write songs like these freely when she felt like it, not as a hidden message slipped between the lines in secrecy. sure, her sexuality wasn’t all she was, there was much more to na minah as a person. but it was still a part of her and god, was she tired of shoving that down and away out of fear of public backlash or intolerance from people around her.

will i be able to get out of there? will there be that day?

minah didn’t know if the true meaning of her words would shine through to anyone if perhaps people out there dealing with the same anxiety and stress would see through the illusion of what it was supposed to be about and hopefully bring them some comfort too, make them feel heard and seen. minah liked the idea of that, a lot.

and if that wasn’t the case, if the song would be perceived by everyone exactly as it was, not reading between the lines, then at least she still got her true feelings out there.

a burden relieved.

the lid of the box lifted up just a little further.

#fmdverification #*:･ﾟ♔– «am i the only one who remembers» // solos.#«where the wind blows // era.»#homophobia tw

1 note · View note

chaoticdrkness · 3 years

Photo

&&. cauldron above, ( maxim aslanov ) was just spotted in the fae lands — word has it ( he ) is affiliated with ( the winter court ). ( he ) is a(n) ( 270 / appears 35 ) year old ( half high fae, half warrior fae ). it’s been said that ( he ) resembles ( theo james ). ( he ) has been said to be ( bold & determined ) but also quite ( hot-tempered & challenging ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( duke for the winter court ).

basics

full name: maxim aslanov

age: 270 years old, appears 35

birthday: 10th august

allegiance: the winter court

species: half high fae, half warrior fae

occupation: duke for the winter court

sexuality: bisexual

family

father: michail aslanov (deceased)

mother: florence jones (deceased)

sibling(s): two siblings (deceased)

personality

positive traits: bold, determined, ambitious, smart, persuasive

negative traits: hot-tempered, brute, challenging, careless, cocky

history

Maxim was an accident. He was the fruit of a forbidden affair and tragic love story which ended in blood and tears the day he was born. The Aslanov family have been a noble family, highly respected and loved within the Winter Court for millenniums. Michail Aslanov was married with two children when he met Florence Jones in the Cloverwood forest and fell instantly in love with the warrior fae. After that everything happened quicker than either expected. Florence fell pregnant and before Michail could ensure protection for both the love of his life and his new born son Florence died in a tragic accident...or that was what was said publicly. Her death was no accident, she was killed by Michail’s father to avoid any further shame coming to the family name. Maxim’s life was spared due to the Aslanov blood in his body.

Growing up it was always made clear to Maxim that he was unwanted. He was the son of the Duke but he was never fully felt part of his family despite being born into the prestige heritage. That only drove a further wedge between him and his father who he always resented for not protecting his mother. Maxim was young when he was sought out by his grandmother in Cloverwood forest. The olde fae told him about his mother, shared stories about her, encouraged Maxim to leave Winter and move to the Autumn Court. He never considered leaving Winter either, it was what he knew as his home and was not going to leave it. She was the only family he felt accepted with and Maxim would escape to the forest or the Autumn court whenever he could to find out more about his mother. What he didn’t realise was that his head was filling with ideas of revenge on Aslanov family.

Even if he was an illegitimate child he was an Aslanov and that meant being involved in the innermost circles and being able to take whatever he pleased. Maxim made a name for himself, if he walked into a room it was known by everyone whether for good or bad he always makes sure to leave an impression on everyone. With his tall frame, famous smirk and deep voice that is laced with both charm and sarcasm, Maxim likes to make a statement. He craves to be talked about and loves to hear his name be whispered as he passes by. The playboy of the Winter Court is fully aware that those around him either want to be with him or be him. He runs on his own agenda and hates taking orders from anybody. Maxim prefers to do whatever he wants on his own time whatever the consequences. It’s always a thrill and rush of adrenaline for the Duke to create a stir and raise tensions.

Maxim was two hundred years old when he earned his title of Duke. It had taken two hundred years but he had avenged the death of his mother by creating an incident which wiped out Michail and his two siblings. He oversaw and planned the whole ordeal...it was a tragic accident. Wrong place...wrong time. That was what was said publicly. The truth would remain a secret of his forever. The day they died Maxim was born again. Now the bastard son was the Duke.

#ahqintro #bio: maxim aslanov

5 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 4 years

Text

the kissing booth (4)

it’s 2am, will add links to specific parts later

ao3

It was the first morning Michael had slept in that he could remember.

The first two weeks or so of coming to this shed that Alex had shown him, he could barely sleep. He kept waiting for something to happen and that it’d be a big joke and he’d often stress so much that he’d leave early hours in the morning to sneak into Rosa’s bedroom. Last night, however, he’d passed out around two in the morning. He was wrapped up in the blankets Alex had in there on the tiny, twin mattress. It all smelled of Alex and it had kept him asleep well after the sun rose.

He stretched his arms out and smiled at the ceiling. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he was thankful. Alex hadn’t come into the shed since he showed him where it was which Michael found a little odd, but they hung out other places. He’d gone to coffee with him and Isobel, they went to Alex’s football games, they talked. It was a legit friendship. Michael felt blessed.

The shed was hidden behind the house and, apparently, Alex’s family didn’t even know about it. It was old and, according to some initials carved into the wall, had been there since at least the 50s. Somehow, though, it was still connected to the house’s electricity. Alex theorized that it was probably shotty, but he hadn’t had any issues. It meant there was a space heater that worked and a light bulb strung from the ceiling.

“How’d you find this?” Michael had asked him that first day.

“I wandered a lot as a kid. I found a lot of stuff, but this felt like my little secret,” Alex had answered.

Apparently, for the last ten years of Alex’s life, he’d been slowly making this place his little escape whenever he needed to go be alone. Michael did feel a little bad that he’d sort of taken it over during the night, but he was also endlessly thankful that he had somewhere to go at night. There was no pressure to leave. In fact, Alex would leave food for him with mom-like sticky notes to tell him to sleep well. It was overwhelmingly kind.

Michael leaned over and grabbed his phone, seeing it fully charged and a message from Alex telling him that he was going for a run if he wanted to join that had been sent four hours prior.

Michael: sorry, I slept through it 😬 would've gone with you

Alex: no worries :) wanna go get coffee?

Michael: yeah, sure. Meet me at the shed?

Alex: be there soon!

Michael bit his lip to hold back a smile. This all felt so normal. It was surreal.

Still, Michael got up and got dressed. He made the bed up like he did every day before he left. Typically, he didn't even undo it. Last night he had.

Michael used his phone as a mirror, checking his hair and his face. He’d have to sneak into Isobel’s for a shower later, but that was manageable. He hadn’t exactly told Rosa or Isobel exactly where he was staying, but he wasn’t really sure if Alex would be okay with that. However, he figured he’d have to ask if only because he didn’t want them to worry.

When Alex got to the shed, he knocked. Michael’s system was flooded with a weird, giddy sensation. He knocked. Someone knocked as if it was his space. He really tried to shake off the smile when he went to open the door, but he couldn’t. It was okay, though, because Alex was smiling too.

“Sleep well?” he asked. He looked good. He always looked good.

“Yeah,” Michael said, licking his lips and looking Alex up and down. On a Saturday morning, he’d gotten up early to run and take a shower, meaning his dark hair was glistening and his clothes were fresh and he smelled so strongly of lavender body wash that it was unfair.

“You know you can keep some stuff in here if you want,” Alex said, “Make it feel like home.” Michael felt his stomach tie in a billion knots and his face felt hot. What the fuck was this?

“Nah, I don’t wanna impose,” Michael said, suddenly unable to really look Alex in the face, “I already feel like I’m monopolizing all the time in here.”

“Oh, fuck off, you’re so not,” Alex laughed, walking further inside. Michael watched him flop onto the bed, making sure it would smell like him for a little longer. “See? No monopolizing here.”

Michael exhaled heavily and managed a smirk, walking closer. Each day, it felt a little harder to flirt with Alex. He wasn’t sure why it was getting harder. Especially since he spent more than a couple nights flailing and smiling like an idiot because Alex did something like brush past his arm.

“So… coffee? Or you wanna stay here?” Michael asked, staring at Alex all laid out like that on the bed. He knew he wasn’t actually as clean as he would like to the first time he got Alex in bed, but it was so enticing.

Alex licked his lips and huffed a laugh, pushing himself up. “Coffee. I need it in my system.”

“Okay,” Michael laughed, resisting the urge to push him further into the bed, “Let’s go. My treat.”

“Shut up, my treat.”

“It’s always your treat.”

“I don’t think you understand how much pleasure it brings me to spend my daddy’s money on a proud bisexual man,” Alex grinned, standing up and touching his chest lightly as he passed, “A subtle but satisfying rebellion if you ask me.”

Michael didn’t know how to react to that, but something deep in his stomach told him that he didn’t want it to end.

Alex came to the shed more often.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you do it?” Alex wondered. He was laid on a yoga mat on the floor, slowly lifting his hips off the floor and holding before slowly dropping them. Michael was positively mesmerized.

“How do I do what?” he asked, tilting his head just a little so he could probably examine Alex’s ass. When he was flat on the floor, Michael theorized he could fit his hand between his back and the floor. He thought about trying.

“Act like nothing bothers you all the time,” Alex said, “Like, I’ve seen you literally look like you’re about to shut down and then the minute someone comes up to you, you throw on that sexy little smile and pretend like you’re great.”

“Sexy, huh?” Michael asked. Alex scoffed and gave him a pointed look.

“Not the point.”

Michael sighed and looked down at the book in his lap. It was apparently in English, but with Alex looking like that only a few feet away he couldn’t recognize any of the words. He tried to come up with a good response but couldn’t think of one.

“I just do,” Michael said with a shrug, “It’s not that deep.”

“I think it’s a coping mechanism,” Alex said sharply, swiftly moving from that position to a plank. His biceps were bulging and it truly felt like he was doing this on purpose.

“I’m not a psychology project.”

“Didn’t say you were,” Alex said, not even kind of sounding winded, “Just saying I think that’s why you’re so tired all the time. You drain yourself pretending.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Maybe not necessarily,” Alex said, bringing himself down to the mat, “But on some level, it’s not real.”

Michael breathed in slow, trying not to be offended. He didn’t think Alex was trying to offend him. Alex lifted chest up and turned his face towards the sky, his hips to the ground. Michael clutched his book and brought his knees to his chest.

“Okay, your turn,” Alex said.

“What?”

“I clearly upset you. Your turn to psychoanalyze me.”

Michael stared at him and wondered if he should play the queer card, maybe that would hit as deep as saying hey your whole personality is fake. Instead, he pulled on his bottom lip and shook his head.

“I got nothing,” he said.

“C’mon,” Alex prodded, shooting a grin his way, “Something’s in your head.”

Michael waited for a few beats before speaking.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Michael asked softly. Alex furrowed his eyebrows and relaxed, sitting down like a normal person.

“Not everyone has an agenda, Guerin,” he said with a soft laugh that Michael couldn’t reciprocate.

“Not in my experience.”

Alex stared at him for a moment before saying, “What about Rosa? She doesn’t have an agenda.”

“Rosa feels bad for me and I’m just waiting until she hates me,” Michael said, “Same with you, I guess.”

“Okay, Rosa literally loves you,” Alex corrected. Michael shrugged. “And I won’t ever hate you. If I thought that was a possibility, I wouldn’t be around you in the first place. I definitely wouldn’t have asked you to stay here.”

It was the first real-time those exact words had been said out loud. They were the scariest words Michael had ever heard. He didn’t respond.

“You look tired,” Alex said, standing up, “Get some sleep.”

Michael stayed up the rest of the night.

“My dad’s out of town.”

Michael watched Alex curiously as he stood in the doorway of the shed. He was in baggy sweatpants and an equally baggy crop top, his hair a mess and looked painfully sexy. It genuinely wasn’t fucking fair. Michael gulped and took a quick look at him up and down. Alex was smirking when he got back to his face.

They’d been doing this for a month. He told Isobel and Rosa where he’d been staying and they didn’t ask questions, but he knew they thought he was just setting himself up to be let down. They had told him more than a few times that Alex was straight, don’t fall for a straight guy, don’t, don’t, don’t.

But they didn’t see Alex in moments like this. Moments when he smirked at him and touched him and wanted to be around him. He couldn’t just be making that shit up.

“I have the whole house to myself,” Alex added after a moment.

“Sounds lonely,” Michael said. Alex bit down on his lip and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. Alex tapped against the door frame and tilted his head, truly looking at Michael in a way he’d never really been looked at. It made his heart beat a little faster. “You need a haircut.”

Michael let out a surprised little laugh, raking his hand through his hair. It was getting long and Rosa usually cut it, but he hadn’t really been paying attention. He’d been a little distracted.

“I’ll get one eventually.”

Alex grinned. “I can give you one.”

“Right, and ruin my hair? Nice try.”

“Nah, I’m actually pretty good at it,” Alex promised, reaching forward to swat lightly at his arm, “Let me show you.”

Michael caved. How could he not?

“Alright, but not too short in case I need Rosa to save the day.”

Soon, Michael found himself walking through the Manes house for the first time. It was just as big as he imagined, but he didn’t get a good look at it as he was led up the stairs to Alex’s bedroom. That seemed far more important than the rest of the house.

“Welcome to my room,” Alex said, throwing his arms out lightly. Michael looked around at the band posters that mixed oddly with the military-esque order of the rest of the room. “My dad and I made a compromise.”

“I see that,” Michael smiled, “You’re just an emo kid waiting for his time to shine, huh?”

Alex huffed a laugh and shook his head, grabbing Michael by the shirt and tugging him into the bathroom. The smile on both of their faces were prevalent as Alex pushed him into a chair that was already in the bathroom. A quick, nosey peek into the cabinets when Alex turned away to get scissors revealed makeup that had Michael’s mind wandering. He’d never seen Alex in makeup. He wondered when he wore that.

“Can I wash your hair?” Alex asked as he walked back in with a pair of scissors in his hands. Michael looked up at him and felt more obsessed than ever.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Michael said helplessly. Alex smiled and leaned to grab shampoo from his shower.

Alex put a folded up towel behind Michael’s neck and leaned his head into the sink. His long fingers combed out the knots in his hair as he drenched it with warm water. Michael’s eyes fell shut and he lost himself in the sensation. By the time Alex was working the shampoo into his hair, he was almost asleep.

Michael was brought back to the living world by the sound of Alex’s laughter. He opened his eyes to see him above him, eyes shining. It was one of the most relaxed moments he’d ever seen Alex in. He was utterly carefree and comfortable. Michael was a fucking goner.

“You awake?” Alex asked softly. Michael nodded. “Lift your head for me, okay?”

Again, his eyes struggled to stay open as Alex snipped off bits of his hair. Rosa was always quick and efficient when cutting his hair, usually making him laugh and distracting him. Alex, on the other hand, was taking his sweet time. He’d press his body up against his, lean close, blow on his cheek to get fallen hair away, and disperse random touches wherever he could. He was beginning to think Alex could cut all of his hair off and he’d still say thanks.

Alex finished off the cut by combing his hands through his already curling hair.

“There, you can wake up now,” Alex said, smiling at his work. Michael turned to look in the mirror and saw that it was definitely a bit shorter than he usually went and could anticipate that, once it dried, it would shrink.

“You think I’m still hot?”

“Yeah,” Alex chuckled, using his finger to curl a ringlet over Michael’s forehead. Oh, he was fucked.

“Can I ask you something?” Michael asked after a moment of both of them just staring in the mirror. Alex nodded. “Are you straight?”

Alex furrowed his eyebrows like he couldn’t believe he asked that question. “Why? You into me or something?”

His tone was bordering somewhere between joking and accusatory and it was confusing enough that Michael decided to reel it in completely. Or, as much as he could. It was hard. Too fucking hard.

“Just wondering since you can cut hair and what are we if not stereotypes,” Michael joked. Alex smiled again and rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” he laughed, walking back into his bedroom. Michael stared at himself in the mirror for a little bit longer. He’d spent over two months now assuming Alex was into him and now he wasn’t sure if he was right. Had he made it up? Had he misread things? Had he seriously fallen for a straight guy? “Guerin, we get it, you’re into yourself!”

Right. Still here.

Michael went back into the bedroom, plastering on his smile so it wouldn’t seem like he was more confused than ever. Alex was laying on his big bed, his laptop propped against his knees.

“Wanna watch a movie?” he asked. Michael’s first thought was yes, followed by that’ll make it worse, followed by who cares.

So, instead of being smart, Michael fell onto Alex’s bed and all but sunk into it. Alex tossed a ball that was on his nightstand and shut the lights off.

“Impressive,” Michael noted.

“Yeah, I know,” Alex laughed. Michael smiled at him helplessly all over again. “What do you wanna watch?”

“I don’t care.”

“Alright, then we’re watching Buffy and starting where I let off in the middle of an episode in the middle of season 5,” Alex threatened. He really didn’t seem to understand that Michael didn’t give a shit as long as he got to lay in his bed with him.

“Okay.”

“You are so fucking tired,” Alex teased, clicking on the episode that he’d said, “Go to sleep.” Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “Dude, you were falling asleep the whole time in there. Just go to sleep.”

“You sure?” Michael asked, “You gonna wake me up when you wanna kick me out?”

“Yes,” Alex said, still grinning as if this was a normal thing you did with your friends. Which, for Michael, it kinda was, but Alex seemed different. Still, Michael took him up on the offer because he was self-destructive and couldn’t turn down the opportunity.

Michael woke up in the middle of the night to Alex sound asleep on the pillow beside him. Alex had pulled the blanket over them both sometime after he’d fallen asleep and just let him stay. His fingers twitched, eager to touch his hair or his lips or just any part of him. Instead, he kept his hands to himself and turned to face into the pillow, deciding smelling him was a lot safer than looking at him.

They both slept through Alex’s alarms.

All of them.

“Your hair looks nice.”

“I’ve done something extremely stupid and I don’t know what to do about it now, help me.”

Isobel blinked in surprise, but Michael didn’t really care that he’d passed on the greeting. It was finally Monday and he’d spent the weekend playing house with Alex, sleeping in the same bed and cooking together and being so fucking domestic that Michael wanted to throw up. This wasn’t real. Alex didn’t like him.

“I think I’m, like, in love or something,” Michael vented. Isobel’s eyes went even wider. “I-I spent the whole weekend with Alex. He cut my hair and we slept together and‒”

“You what?”

“Not like that! Just, in the same bed, and acted like fucking boyfriends minus all the kissing and the cuddling and, Izzy, I want the kissing and cuddling,” Michael vented, dropping his head in his hands. Isobel grabbed his arm.

“Okay, just breathe,” she instructed. He listened. “Look, have you talked to him about it?”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “No. Well, I asked him if he was straight, and he sort of avoided the question.”

“Maybe try asking something a little different?”

“Like what?”

“Like a date?”

Michael snapped his head up, probably looking as horrified as he felt. “I can’t do that. He gave me a whole ass place to go where I don’t feel like I’m bothering everyone. If I ask him out and he’s not into it, I ruin that. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“Listen, Michael, I think it’s worth it,” she said softly. He shook his head. “Look at you! I’ve never seen you like this over anyone. That feels like it’s worth it to me.”

Michael gulped and tried to shake off his nerves. It didn’t really work.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said, “And if kicks you out, then fuck him and you don’t want to stay with a guy who gets that offended.”

Michael felt like she was skipping a few steps in logic, but he also felt like having Alex for real sounded like a fucking fantastic thing. He’d been wanting to kiss him for so long it hurt.

So, that night, when Alex showed up at the shed again, Michael decided he needed to just get it over with or he was going to fucking drown.

“Hey, can we talk?” Michael asked as normal as possible. Alex smiled that sweet smile and nodded. They both sat on the little bed, facing each other. “So… Promise me you won’t get upset?”

“Why would I?” Alex asked. Michael just stared at him until his smile started to drop. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Okay,” Michael breathed, “So… This whole weekend got me thinking really hard… I like you.” Michael looked away from him and then looked back. Alex’s face didn’t really change. “Like, I like like you. Like running into you that day kinda changed my entire life.”

Alex blinked a few times and turned his head away. Michael could feel his heart dropping. Oh. This is how it goes bad.

“This weekend…” Alex whispered, shaking his head with a scoff. “That was seriously the first time you noticed me?” Alex asked, voice carrying so much more emotion than it usually did that Michael flinched, “That day when you ran into me. You seriously had never noticed me before?”

Michael blinked a few times. “No?”

Alex scoffed, “You know, I used to see you every day and thought you were so fucking cool. For, like, three years I saw you at Bean Me Up, at the Crashdown, at the library, around town. I saw you all the time! I stared at you and admired you and tried my hardest to get your attention without having to actually talk to you because you were so fucking cool!”

Michael leaned away from him, eyebrows furrowed and more confused than ever. He was struggling to follow any of what was being said. How the hell had he been around Alex all that time and never noticed him?

“And when you started talking to me, flirting with me,” Alex went on, laughing dryly, “I really thought that you’d noticed me too. I had really fucking convinced myself that maybe you’d been doing what I was and just fucking pining like a dumbass for three years. I really thought that! I thought that someone as cool as you had somehow noticed me and had been waiting for your moment!”

“Alex, what‒”

“But no,” Alex huffed, “Because you’re too cool. Too self-absorbed and too fucking entitled to older women and rich girls and-and saying you like men but never being seen with one, then I show you I’m rich and suddenly you’re into me? Okay, Guerin.”

“Alex‒” Michael started, stopping that train of thought once Alex got up, “I don’t‒ I’m not‒ Alex!”

“You can still stay here,” Alex said, face still angry and hurt even though he was trying to use a calm tone, “I get you’re not faking that. But don’t fake being into me for my fucking money.”

Alex left him alone and he tried his damnedest to understand what Alex’s thought process had been. He wasn’t sure how he got from point A to point B, but he was sure Alex wasn’t open to hearing his explanation. Mainly because he didn’t have one. Alex had added so many fucking steps that didn’t even exist. How did one person complicate a stupid crush so much?

What the fuck was he missing?

“I’m totally over Alex.”

“Michael…”

“No, seriously, I am,” Michael insisted despite the fact that he was sitting in the bleachers at Alex’s football game, rambling over the noise that made up halftime, “I’ve had a few days to think about it and I’m glad he rejected me.”

“Seriously?” Isobel sighed, “I think if you guys just talked, then‒”

“No, I don’t wanna talk. He assumed so much shit about me without asking for clarification, I don’t wanna be with someone like that,” he said firmly. Maybe he still ached for his skin, maybe he still missed his smell, maybe he cried a couple of times, and maybe he couldn’t sleep in the shed anymore because it reminded him too much of Alex, but so what?

“I think you’re overreacting,” Isobel said softly.

Michael shook his head. “I’m not the one overreacting. Alex freaked out on me for no reason. I don’t need that in my life. And good thing too.”

“...why is it a good thing?”

“Because now I can focus on a guy who actually wants me,” Michael said firmly, “Like the guy at the kissing booth.”

Isobel sighed loudly, “Michael, that was‒”

“I don’t care. He’s gotta still be out there. I want him. He wants me.”

Michael didn’t look at her because he knew it’d be pity. He was tired of pity. He’d been getting it from her and Rosa all fucking week. Everyone went through tiny heartbreaks, he wasn’t special.

To prove that he wasn’t special, he stood up on the bleachers and whistled as loud as he could. He got a relatively decent-sized audience, including some of the football team, including Alex Manes, so he knew it’d spread to whoever it needed to reach. He threw on his smirk.

“Can I have your attention, please! Three months ago when I did a kissing booth at your fundraiser, one of you lovely men of Atherton kissed me behind the booth! I’ve been looking for you ever since!” he announced loudly. He heard a few whistles in response, fueling him more even as Isobel tugged on his pant leg. “So, I’d like to proposition you, whoever you are! Meet me at Bean Me Up Monday night! Let me get to know you! And, if he’s not here, everyone spread the word so I can find him!”

Michael sat back onto the bleacher as people whistled and clapped for him as if he was that important. Sometimes, he surely felt he was. When it came to the people of Atherton, they felt he was too.

“What the fuck, Michael?” Isobel hissed.

“What?” he asked, “I was just getting shit done.”

“You could’ve gone about that in a better way.”

However, when Michael looked and saw Alex staring at him with slightly terrified eyes, he really thought he couldn’t have.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #michael guerin fic #alex manes #alex manes fic #my fic #the kissing booth

60 notes · View notes

aye-write · 3 years

Text

Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: If you’re interested in more information, exclusive updates, character art, and teasers for this fic, please consider following its sister tumblr @kildo-pokedex

*****

Chapter Two

The kitchen was teeming with heat when Isla walked in. Everyone’s eyes flickered towards her, leaving her feeling very much like a prized Miltank on show. Heat crept into her cheeks. She glanced around, trying to find somewhere to let her gaze settle. Skye and Blair were working through plates of pancakes. Kenneth leaned against the countertop sipping black coffee. Rhona had her sleeves rolled up and was tending to something on the stove. Anxiety spiked in her chest. Discounting Nana Morag, she was the last one up.

“Good morning!” Isla said, trying to inject cheer into her voice.

Rhona turned around to face her. “Good morning, chick!”

She was smiling. Good. At least Isla knew she hadn’t committed some unspeakable faux pas before it even turned ten in the morning.

“Have a seat,” Rhona continued. “Do you want tea? Breakfast? It’s just pancakes today, so I hope you like them.”

What kind of world did she live in where home-made pancakes were “just pancakes”? Rhona obviously didn’t get enough appreciation. “I love them! And tea would be grand, thank you.”

“Help yourself, there’s some in the pot.”

A fat teapot sat in the middle of the table with a brown tea cosy pulled around it. Fixed with a pair of floppy wings and a crocheted head, the Pokemon it was supposed to represent looked like a fatter, happier version of Rhona’s Ruchter. Isla sploshed milk into her tea from a jug that looked suspiciously like a Miltank and loaded it with sugar, the first sip sending a pleasant, energising warmth through her.

The tea worked its magic on Isla, but everyone else looked pale and withdrawn, like they’d woken up on low battery. Isla sipped her tea and battled between two impulses that both felt equally rude.

Eventually, she settled on, “Is there anything I can help you with today? Like around the croft or… or anything?”

Blair leant back into his chair and stretched. “It’s all done,” he said. Something in his back popped, the noise like a gun going off.

Isla blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. We start at six.”

“In the morning?”

Everyone stopped. Kenneth’s eyes found Isla’s over the rim of his coffee mug.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I just didn’t… hear anything.”

“We wouldn’t ask you to help out with anything,” Rhona said kindly. “And we didn’t want to wake you either. Especially with last night’s storm. We’re used to it here, but it can be quite distracting for folks not local.”

Isla had almost forgotten about the storm. The mention sent the image of the child from last night flashing into her head like the sear of a lightbulb. Her fingers tightened around her mug of tea. “Yeah,” she heard her voice waver. “The thunder and lightning were something else.”

Rhona’s eyebrows creased. “Thunder and lightning?”

“Yeah,” Isla said. Then she saw everyone else’s expression. “You guys didn’t hear it? It was like… It was like the world was coming to an end out there.”

They all returned blank looks.

“Well, did you guys notice the power going off?” Isla tried. “About 3am, I think it was.”

“I was asleep,” Skye said, spearing her pancakes and oozing sauce all over the table.

“So was I,” Rhona said, and Kenneth nodded his agreement. Isla was beginning to wonder if that man ever spoke.

Everyone looked at Blair, who bristled under their stares.

“I don’t remember the power going off,” he said, swilling the liquid in his mug. It smelled bitter and strong. Black coffee. No wonder.

“Then you didn’t see the—” Isla stopped herself. What would they think if she told them what she saw? She wasn’t even sure she knew what it was. Something deep inside her told her to hang onto it. At least for now. At least until she could do some further research.

Luckily, her trailing off went unnoticed as Rhona put a plate of pancakes down in front of her. She busied herself adding sugar and a squeeze of lemon as conversation slowly resumed around the kitchen table.

“So what’s on your agenda today, Isla?” Rhona asked, sitting down heavily in the spare chair.

“I’d like to get started on my research,” Isla replied, her mouth full of soft, fluffy pancake. “I brought some books and copies of old script with me, so I’d like to start organising my thoughts and think about what I’d like to tackle first.”

The others nodded politely as Isla explained her plans. Kenneth was the first to leave, dumping his coffee mug in the sink and ducking outside. Isla saw him lumbering towards the field of Wooloo in the distance a few moments later. After that, the rest of the family moved off like falling dominoes, until it was only Rhona and Isla left at the table.

“You’ll need the Wi-Fi password,” Rhona said, tearing off a strip of paper. “You might have a couple of wee connection issues since you’re a bit far away from the router, but you can always come down and work in the living room if you need to. Here,” she handed Isla the paper with the code. “We’ll try keep out of your way. We’ll be out working on the croft for a bit. Skye’s got some work to do in her room, but she should give you peace. Oh, and help yourself to anything you like from the fridge. Lunch will be about 1 o’clock. I’ll shout you down or I can take something up to you if you like?”

“It’s okay, Rhona,” Isla interrupted gently. “You’re doing so much for me at as it is. I’ll come down for lunch. I’ll probably need the distraction,” she paused. “Thank you, Rhona. I mean it.”

“It’s okay, chick. We’re family. That’s what we do.”

With that, Rhona headed out, leaving Isla standing in the kitchen, fighting a lump the size of a walnut in her throat. A minute to compose herself and she turned with renewed determination towards the stairs.

Back in her room, with the door shut against the world, she let out a long, slow sigh. The bedroom wasn’t the best as far as study spaces went. It was pretty small for a start. And like everything else in the house, it was cluttered and claustrophobic. But it was welcomely cool after the humid heat of the kitchen and after taking ten minutes to straighten up her things and clear the desk of all the tat and mess, she was starting to see its potential as a working space.

Isla unearthed her laptop from under a pile of clothes and plugged it in. As it chuntered into life, she released Soba, who curled herself up into a tight ball on the rumpled bedclothes. The WiFi was a bit dodgy as Rhona had fretted, but it was serviceable. As long as it didn’t drop entirely whenever she’d have to have a video call with the university department, she’d be fine.

For the first ten minutes, she picked between a handful of internet tabs tuned to information she’d found vaguely useful in the initial research stage. Now that she was supposed to actually make sense of it all and turn it into something halfway presentable, it was like her brain had stalled entirely.

No, she told herself. She wouldn’t be beaten. She clicked open a new Word document and started to type.

To Do For Thesis:

Get translations for Kildonian Chessmen texts

Interview locals about legends

Find, research, and visit rumoured Chessmen resting places

Research divide in Kildonian population (Vitalities?)

She paused, then added in:

Find out what was in the garden on the night of the storm.

A knock at the bedroom door startled her. Soba’s ears pricked up as Isla dragged herself back to reality. What was the time? She glanced at the clock. Nearly midday. Almost three hours had gone by no quicker than a blink as she clicked through research articles and flicked through books.

Scrambling to her feet, she answered the door to Nana Morag’s lined face. She was smiling, in a sort of mischievous way, one side of the mouth curved more upwards than the other.

“Heard you had a little powercut last night,” she said, conspiringly.

“Yeah,” Isla rubbed the back of her neck. “I think it must have skipped the rest of the house though. Or… or maybe it was just my imagination.”

“You think so?”

“I mean, it could have been,” Isla said, half-wondering why she was trying to rationalise it. “I was pretty tired. My mind could have been playing tricks on me.”

“Hm,” Nana Morag didn’t sound convinced. She glanced back down the hallway, before taking a step closer. “Isla, have you heard of Basinish Island?” When Isla shook her head, Nana Morag’s whole face illuminated. “Basinish Island is a small, abandoned island off the coast of Port Glen. About three or four miles…. that direction,” she pointed over Isla’s shoulder, past the window and towards the tracing-paper grey sky. “Legend has it that you can walk there and back from Port Glen on days when the tide goes out. Of course, no-one ever tries. It’s very dangerous.”

“Okay,” Isla said, wondering exactly what Nana Morag was getting at. “What does this have to do with—”

“There’s rumours that Voltean – the Electric Vitality – lives out that way. Of course, it’s never been proven,” she said, in an off-hand way like she was telling Isla the brands of cereal in the cupboards. “But I thought you might like to read about them in this.”

Nana Morag pressed a thick hardback book into Isla’s hands.

“This is an old text,” Nana Morag continued. “There are some newer edits now, but I think you still might find it relevant. Especially for your research. It’s translated, so it might read a little funny. But there should be plenty there to keep you occupied.”

Isla looked through the book in awe. Pages of intricate illustrations and small, looped writing teased her from within. She could barely get her words out to thank Nana Morag. Soba purred and chirruped from the bed in appreciation.

“Nana Morag, thank you so much. I’ll take really good care of it. I promise.”

“Not to worry, Isla. You seem to have your head screwed on tight. If there’s anything in there you need some help with decoding, you let me know and I’ll try and help.”

“That would be wonderful. I was actually wondering if I could ask another favour of you,” Isla said, feeling opportunity shoulder its way in. “I have some old translations about the Kildonian Chessmen and I need some help translating them. Could you help?”

“I can do one better,” Nana Morag said. “Come along to my class this afternoon. I teach the young ones how to read and write the old language. I find there’s so much more meaning in having done the work myself. Don’t you agree?”

The expectation trickled down Isla’s back like a sliver of ice. Would she have the time to learn for something like that? Surely it would only take a couple of hours, tops, for someone to translate the documents rather than possible weeks to learn even the basics of an entire ancient language? It didn’t seem like a good trade off. But Nana Morag had already been so kind to her. And there was no telling how she’d react if she refused. Maybe if she showed willing now, Nana Morag would be more flexible later.

Isla clutched the book to her chest. “When does it start?”

“I’ll be leaving now,” Nana Morag said, her eyes gleaming.

“Alright,” Isla nodded. “I’m with you.”

Nana Morag lead Isla towards a small community centre, off a narrow lane from the high street. The whole area was residential, cluttered with redbrick terraces and full of people going around their daily business even with the biting wind and the overhanging threat of rain. Nana Morag was stopped nearly a dozen times by passers-by, each one making the same guarded enquiries about Isla, wondering who she “belonged to”. Isla couldn’t tell if they were pleased or not when Nana Morag explained they were family.

The classroom was perfect for children, bright, colourful, and visually appealing, but its cheery theme did little to soften the sharp edges of anxiety in Isla’s stomach. It spiked even more when she sat down, on a too-small chair that creaked every time she even considered moving.

Nana Morag didn’t call attention to Isla when the children came in for her class, which she was eternally grateful for. Along with the rest of the children, she was given an easy-reader book in Old Kildonian, a language heavy with vowels and punctuated with strange looping symbols. There was also a sheet of paper, typed in large print, with what looked like an alphabet and a few short words paired with an English equivalent. Isla stared at them until her eyes went blurry. She couldn’t even figure out how to make her mouth contort itself to make those noises. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The words were simple. Too simple. Words for “Mum”, “Dad”, “good”, “nice”, “friend”, and other twee phrases ran through her head. Not even a full sentence. Not even “Mum is nice”, “my friend is good”, just words, scattered over the page as if they were plucked from the ether. How would this help her? How could she translate complicated archaic documents with these basics?

The class hadn’t even started yet. Nana Morag was still talking to a parent while the children shouted and ran around the tables, obviously too overstimulated even before the lesson began. And Isla was spiralling. She could feel it percolating within her. As her breath raced out, she tried to clear her head.

This wouldn’t do. It couldn’t. Even if she attended one of these classes every day for a month, she’d be nowhere near ready to decode the Chessmen documents herself. She didn’t have that time to waste. The exhibition in Hydrogate opened in three weeks and she still had most of the region to see. Places to go. People to interview. Legends to find. She just couldn’t do it.

A blip pinged her phone, making her jump. While Nana Morag’s back was turned, still in conversation, Isla slid it out of her pocket and looked at it under the table.

Isla,

The Anthropology Department is concerned that you have not yet been in touch to update on your project. As such, we are writing to inform you that we have arranged a video conference with you at 1pm Johto Standard Time in two days’ time. Please follow the link below to attend your slot.

The department would like you to prepare a short presentation to highlight your progress as part of the video conference.

Please also remember you must submit proof of your passage to the Kildo region as evidence.

Regards,

Prof F. S. Gardener

Isla could only stare numbly at the email for the first few minutes. Slowly, heat crept into her face. Anger bubbled in the pit of her stomach. How dare they? How dare they talk to her like that? The condescending attitude dripped off the words like hot grease from a searing grill. They wanted a presentation? In two days? It couldn’t be done.

At least, not while she allowed her time to be wasted.

Nana Morag looked disappointed, but said she understood when Isla explained that something had come up that meant she had to leave early. It didn’t make her feel better.

Outside the community centre, she sat on the nearest bench and took large lungfuls of crisp, cool air until the anger and anxiety gurgling in her stomach finally ebbed away. She cast a guilty look back at the door. Hopefully Nana Morag would forgive her.

It would take nearly half an hour to walk back to the house. Plenty of time to think about what direction to take the presentation. Even as she thought about it, her mind unspooled ideas. She could look through the book Nana Morag gave her, cite the conversation they’d had about the Vitalities, maybe ask Rhona and the family for any other stories they had. She could do this. She could pull this together. She’d show that professor exactly what she was made of.

Just as she pushed herself to her feet, something thudded to the ground. Isla froze, her concentration shattered. Her hand sought the familiar Pokeball hanging at her waist and she rolled her fingertips across its keenly smoothed surface. Something crept into the corner of her peripheral vision. A dull, murky, red-brown shape, a rusted stain on the greenery encroaching the community centre. Her stomach tightened. Nausea crept up her throat and she had to fight a sudden, violent urge to vomit.

When the nausea passed, and the world faded back in, a noise trembled through the earth under her feet. A low rumbling whinny followed by the steady, echoing beat of hooves.

Isla called Soba out. It was an unwelcome return to reality. She was in a new region with strange new Pokemon and she hadn’t even taken five minutes to look at the kinds of creatures that lived in the area. If there was something there that could hurt her, then she was playing a dangerous game. Could she even defend herself?

She should ignore it, she reasoned. Ignore it and head back to the croft. Wild Pokemon attacks on humans weren’t common, especially in fairly urban areas, but something still spurred her into action. Sweat stood out on her brow as she circled the Community Centre, Soba in pursuit.

There was nothing there. No people. No Pokemon. The only thing that stood out was a patch of disturbed grass by the window that looked into Nana Morag’s classroom. A line of hoofprints sunk into the long, leafy fronds, each one fringed with thin purple liquid. .

Soba coughed and retched.

“Easy, girl,” Isla returned Soba to her Pokeball. The last thing she needed was for her only Pokemon to become unwell. That would just be the rotten cherry on the top of the already disgusting cake.

She took one last cautionary glance around the area. Leaves trembled in the trees. Cars sloped down the road. Children played in a park down the street, their voices carrying over a thin, brisk wind.

When she looked down at the prints again, the strange liquid was gone.

Back at home, Isla shut herself back in the tiny room, opened her laptop, and focused. Hours fell away. Daylight morphed into darkness. All Isla knew was the tapping of keys and the pages of books stiff with bookmarks and post-it notes.

She was turning over into a new chapter – The Shifting Traditions – when her stomach gurgled, lifting her out of her study induced stupor. What time was it? It had gotten dark without her even noticing. She groped for the desk light and clicked it on, the room touched by a jaundiced yellow light.

The clock flashed back; 18:47.

She didn’t want to seem presumptuous. Running a croft with only a few family members must have been tough. She could imagine it was the kind of work that never had a clear end goal, that there was always something that needed done. And she’d only been here a full day. She didn’t know their routines yet. Maybe they were a late dinner type of family. And she definitely didn’t want to pressure anyone. But it was very late now. She hadn’t eaten any lunch. And there hadn’t been any noises in the house for hours.

Downstairs, every room was draped in darkness. Isla felt around for the light switches, but the unfamiliar walls wouldn’t give up their secrets, and she clattering through the house like a particularly ungraceful Hippopotas. It confirmed one thing. There was nobody home.

Panic rose in her chest as she picked her way towards the windows, hoping that she could let some light in via the curtains. I

With a bang, the door opened, bounced off the wall, and light spilled into the room. Rhona stood in the hallway, shelling herself from a puffy jacket.

“Rhona?” Isla squeaked.

“Oh, gosh! Isla!” Rhona’s hand flew to her chest, her skin translucent. “Chick, why were you standing there in the dark?”

“I couldn’t find the light switch,” she said lamely. “I’d been upstairs, and I got a bit worried I hadn’t heard anything down here for a while.”

“Oh, God. You didn’t get the message?”

“What message?”

“Kenneth sent Drambark to the house with it,” Rhona said, hanging up her coat.

Isla wasn’t sure exactly what a Drambark was, but she didn’t think now was the right time to ask. “I didn’t get anything, sorry. What’s happened?”

“It’s Nana Morag, chick. She came over very ill just before she finished her class. She was taken to hospital.”

“Hospital?!” Isla gasped.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, but she’s okay, she’s stable and responsive. They’re keeping her in overnight, but I think it’s just as a precaution.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“They don’t know yet. They were running tests when I left.”

“I’m sorry, I…” Isla stammered. “I should have stayed with her.”

The look in Rhona’s eyes became sharp and probing. “Yes, why did you leave? I thought you wanted to learn about the language.”

“I do, but…” Isla heaved a sigh. “I got an email from my course supervisor when I was in the class telling me I have to do a presentation for them. In two days. About the progress I’ve made in the project. And I haven’t… I haven’t had much progress yet because I’ve only just got here. So I panicked and came back here to start working on that immediately because… well, if I don’t jump through their hoops, they’ll pull approval on the project.”

Rhona nodded the whole time Isla spoke. “Och, chick, maybe it’s for the better that you didn’t stay.”

Isla frowned. “Why?”

“Because it wasn’t just Nana Morag who became ill. Everyone attending that class did.”

#checkmate #pokemon fan fic #fakemon #pokemon fanfic #pokemon fanfiction #my writing #long post

2 notes · View notes

sosthemortalcoil · 5 years

Note

Is there a list of all of the RO's and their descriptions?

There are several, but I’m compiling them here to help.

1. Sabriel (pansexual, she/her) is another angel of Guardian rank. She’s the Guardian Angel Overseer for the area where you will be living and is technically responsible for making sure you don’t do anything that would influence the state of the world unduly. She enjoys human culture (particularly Star Wars) and has a fondness for tea. She has a lot of walls up that prevent her from easily trusting anything from Heaven, especially figures in power. Having fun is often put on the back-burner when she’s overworked (which is a common state for her). She tries to put duty above all else, though she’s too compassionate to always succeed in this. Being honest with herself is something she values, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be straightforward or honest with others.

Her preferred form stands at 5′9″/175 cm. She has a mess of frizzy brown hair that constantly escapes into her oval face. Her grey-blue eyes are usually underscored by bags, and she wears rectangular, black-frame glasses. Her nose is thin with flared nostrils, her lips curve up naturally but are drawn down by the faint lines on her features. Roughly same age as Ramiel. Her body looks soft, without much definition, but she’s iron and steel at her core.

2. Alice Hudson (bisexual, she/her) is a human and one potential partner for Gabriel. She’s the only child of a powerful medium and is well aware of the supernatural world even though she herself has no gifts. She’s a believer of order though she also believes that there are exceptions and that you have to take things on a case by case basis. She loves to tease coworkers and is fond of practical jokes but perfectly capable of being serious. Commitment makes her skittish in personal relationships. She is also a little afraid of children. She’s a person who will bend the rules if need be–the end justifies the means in some cases. She likes tinkering with her motorcycle(s), rebuilding them when she finishes one.

She stands 5′11″/180 cm with brown shoulder length hair that is mostly straight and usually pulled back in a ponytail. Her skin is fair, touched by sun. Her most noticeable feature is her piercing, light grey eyes that see more than people think. At the start of the story she’s 26 years old. She has lips that border on the thin side, but are quick to smile. Her eyebrows are round, above straight eyes. Her nose is on the short side in overall length, with a deviation from where she once got it broken. The tip is round but drawn out from her face, her nostrils small. She has a runner’s body, muscles built for endurance and speed rather than raw strength. She keeps her nails short, and rarely wears any sort of make-up. She is a predominantly Caucasian mix.

3. Tadea Guerrero (lesbian, she/her) is a werepanther. By the time you meet her she’s the second-in-command of her pride. Prickly on the outside, she sees official authorities (the police) as something to be leery of at best. The pressures of the former leadership of her pack, which emphasized cruelty, leaves her bitter and mistrustful of others. Aggressive and fierce, she supports Leo’s new leadership style though thinks he is too naive to hold it on his own without her assistance. She favors practicality and is cutthroat in making decisions.

She respects strength and will exploit any weaknesses she can find in almost anyone to further her agenda or that of her pack--because she doesn’t believe in the innate goodness of most people, Leo being an exception. In a romantic relationship she can be shy due to inexperience with a proper relationship. She likes flowers, and pink, and things she feels are super girly and don’t fit with the rough-and-tough image she projects. Being with Gabriel would allow her to relax a little, exposing more of her soft side.

She stands at 5′8″/173 cm. Her skin is a rich brown. Short-cropped black hair is styled into a miniature mohawk most of the time, accenting her square jaw and chin. Her cheeks are the softest part of her, her body muscular and lean with little of what might be called feminine softness. Her straight brows sit over large darkbrown, almost black, eyes. Her nose is of medium length with a broad bridge and solid point, resting above chapped lips. Her eyelashes are startling long against her cheeks. She has barbed-wire tattoos on both of her arms, wrapped around roses on the left arm.

4. Karyn Brown (straightish, she/her) is a female werewolf, with some human bloodline, who’s adept at dodging pack responsibilities. She loyal to her pack but has a wild streak. She is of the opinion that life is too short to be serious and tends to be seen as vain and flighty. She is intelligent and a skilled hacker. She enjoys kickboxing and zumba, can’t cook for the life of her and is very spontaneous. She works as a barista at the local coffee shop, in addition to some of her computer-related odd-jobs. She enjoys dubsteb, flirting, and living life to the fullest.

She is 5′6:/168 cm, of Western European descent. Her hair is mid-back and wavy, golden blonde. She usually wears it in ponytail or loose, and often has a chunk died various colors. Her narrow amber eyes frame a button nose and lips almost perpetually curved in a smirk. Freckles span the bridge of her nose and fan out across her cheeks. She’s fit, but her body appears more soft than toned. Her face is heart-shaped, her hairline low on her brow. Two thin eyebrows curve slightly, following the shape of her eyes. Her cheeks are rosy and full. Her wolf form seems too small for its paws and has a russet coat.

5. Stephanie Xinxin Lee (straight, she/her) is a witch who works at the police department as a beat cop. She specializes in charms and trinkets not having much magical power at her disposal. She’s a little sensitive about her size and hates speaking to large groups of people. Generally mild mannered she enjoys strange tea blends and can talk for hours about the magical properties of herbs but is dismal at pop culture references. She likes learning new things, and has no qualms about taking down people twice her size. While she loves her family, she’s excited to be on her own, away from much of the expectations and pressures of her family.

She’s the shortest RO at 5′2″/157 cm and is ethnically Chinese. She has dark brown eyes that slant upwards slightly, underneath thin black brows. Her long, mid-back length black hair is usually kept pinned up in a tight bun. Her features are generally on the round side, small and delicate. Her lips are narrow, the bridge of her nose flat and the tip of her nose round. Her olive skin is clear apart from a beauty mark at the corner of her left eye. She might be described as petite.

6, Iro Nyx (aromantic, pansexual, she/her) is a succubus dating from Hellenistic Greece. She’s a RO option only for darker Gabriels (though you can have a fling with her as a lighter Gabriel, she just won’t be interested in a relationship of any kind). As a succubus she has mid-level shape-shifting abilities which she predominantly uses to change her physical appearance. Iro likes drinks and toying with humans, though she is not a fan of blood and gore. She tries to rely on her wiles and ability to wheel and deal to maintain a comfy lifestyle free of being controlled. Iro is comfortable with who she is; she doesn’t want to change. She does want more control and power over her life, and will join a Gabriel whom she believes can deliver these things.

Her appearance depends on the day and whatever form she feels likewearing. Her original form had curly light brown hair that she would pin up, exposing the nape of her elegant neck. She was fine-boned and small, with large hazel eyes set above pouty lips. Her nose was small with a pointed tip, her face round. She is roughly 2300 years old.

7. Iain O’Brien (straightish, he/him) is the other option for your partner on the police force. He’s from an Irish Catholic family though he finds himself unable to commit to the same level of faith as his stringent mother. He likes to play the white knight and is always willing to help when asked. He’s very good with his niece and nephew, adores kids, but tends to be clueless when it comes to picking up on hints in relationships. He says drinking is as necessary as water to an Irish-man (even though he wasn’t born in Ireland). He laughs a lot, even when its not appropriate and sometimes speaks before thinking. His work is his passion and sometimes he neglects to take care of himself subsequently. He wasn’t the perfect son, a contrast to his ‘perfect’ sister. He grew up practicing martial arts, and decided to become a cop after a chance encounter with an officer who also went to his dojo.

He stands at 6′4″/193 cm with pale skin that burns easily and freckles spanning his broad back. His red hair, showcasing his Irish blood, is kept on the short side, just barely curling around his ears. When it gets too long the entire mass becomes curly. His eyes are a vivid green, crinkled at the edges with laugh lines. He has a square chin but a softer edge to his jawline than he likes. At the start of the story he’s 25. He has a semi-prominent brow ridge, with thick eyebrows. He has a Roman nose, long and straight. His upper lip has a neat bow to it, and his lower lip is full. 100% human. He works on core and toning, and carries some extra weight around his hips from his penchant for alcohol. On occasion he gets some red fuzz and scruff on, but never lets it get to a full beard.

8. Aelius Roman (pansexual, he/him) works ‘with’ Iro. He’s the incubus to her succubus. Technically they have a competition to see who can gain the most contracts and acquire the most power but he tends to be less ruthless than Iro. He still remembers being mortal and often includes loopholes in his contracts that the clever can get out of–though sometimes these ‘loopholes’ require a greater sacrifice than the original contract. He has a morbid sense of humor and lacks a sense of what humans judge as common decency. He is also possessive of whatever he views as his and sees lying as the key to any good relationship. He enjoys causing verbal disagreements and breaking up ‘happy-couples.’ Most of the time he wears a smile but can become maudlin, which is when he acts the most callous. He prefers to be on the outside looking in; while Iro likes to feed directly, Aelius likes to skim along the top, feeding in proximity. Unlike most incubi or succubi, Aelius isn’t that interested in the act of sex. He enjoys physical intimacy, but small touches and being close are more important to him than intercourse.

His appearance depends on the day and his form, though he typicallyprefers heights ranging from 5′6/168 cm to 5′ 10″/178 cm. He’s Roman via Gaul. Nospoilers on his original look. He is an incubus demon, formerly human. He’s roughly 2100 years old.

9. Ramiel (pansexual, he/him) is a Fallen who has many regrets about his past. He is excellent at putting on masks and getting his job done but takes no pleasure in working for Hell. It’s a necessary evil to him. He’s leery of getting close to Gabriel given their past, not wishing to endanger them but unable to stay away either. He used to be a prankster with little grasp on responsibility, prone to rash decisions. Since his Fall he’s learned a lot about himself, having grown into someone who is more mature and aware of who he is. Much of his humor is buried underneath his regret, but it’s not impossible to see.

Ramiel’s walking form stands at 6′6″/198 cmand has dark brown hair, wavy and shoulder-length that he usually pulls back in a tie at the nape of his neck. He usually has five-o-clock shadow. His eyes are a warm honey-brown, but they look tired. His skin is tan and weathered, more suited to someone who works outside than the lawyer he masquerades at. If it weren’t for the expensive tailored suit, custom Italian leather shoes and briefcase, he could be mistaken for one of his clients being held overnight. He has a long straight nose, a thin upper lip and a full lower lip.

He rarely stands straight-backed anymore, his shoulders often curving with the weight of his failures. Still, he cuts a handsome figure, a quiet intensity to him and a warmth in his smile that draws people in, despite the slightly haggard look to him at times. The oldest of the nestmates by a bit.

10. Charleston Sawyer (formerly Valois) (gay, he/him) is another cop at the precinct and a werewolf. His orientation and refusal to continue the family bloodline led to him splitting with the pack he was born in. After a few years he was recruited by the alpha of the Jericho City pack as an Enforcer. He is relatively laid-back and easygoing at work, quicker with a smile. That extends only to his co-workers that he trusts. He quite astute and reads people well, but comes across as a pushover to most cops because of his more reserved nature. In the pack he becomes second because of his martial skills (he’s a Beta second while a second appointed for their ability to deal with emotions and politics is usually an Omega second). At home he tends to be withdrawn and cold, quicker to snarl than help--at least at first. The exception to his attitude at home is his alpha, Tom, and Tom’s daughter, Josie. He expects rejection and awkwardness from most of the pack, and it takes him time to open up and trust them.

He is 5′6″/168 cm and French. He has thick dark brown hair, swept back from his face. He has a neatly trimmed covering of hair one could call a beard, highlighting his rectangular jaw. He has mesmerizing hazel eyes situated beneath dark brows that are often drawn low. His skin is tanned, though whether from sun or natural coloring it’s impossible to tell. He’s 29 at the start of the story. He is pureblood werewolf, and his wolf form is a dark grey that borders on black. He’s stocky and solidly built, with the heaviest musculature of all the ROs, but remains flexible.

11. Tom Garrow (straight, he/him) is the leader of the local werewolf pack and recently widowed. Newly a single-father, he struggles between balancing his daughter and his pack. Well-traveled and educated, he tends to have lofty ideas that sometimes need a dose of practicality. He is not a fan of his wolf nature and tends to try to cover any of his ‘innate savagery’ with an excess of culture in his day-to-day life. He runs an upscale bar for his ‘day’ job and is a shrewd business man. He deliberately appointed Charleston in spite of the majority of the pack’s feelings--wondering if an Enforcer was really the best fit for second--informing them that he was selecting the best person for the job, feelings be damned.

He cares for Charleston as a close friend but often finds himself unable to help with his friend’s issues without making them worse. Respected for his leadership because he puts the safety of the pack first, he can struggle with relationships outside of the pack. He does want to create a more international and cooperative pack that has other supernatural allies but has yet to persuade the pack to his point of view, especially after the death of his wife where they want to close ranks. When in a relationship, he likes to indulge in more of his wolf nature, allowing for some of that freedom that he tries to keep out of his professional life.

Tom is 30 years old at the start of the story and stands at 6′5″/196 cm. Ethnically he’s of Western European descent, mixed. He was born a werewolf, but has human blood in his bloodline. His dark brown hairis of medium-short length just brushing his collar and swept away from his widow’s peak. It’s already starting to silver. His warm brown eyes, which take on a golden hue, are evenly spaced on his oval face, cut by a slightly hooked, Romanesque nose. He has strong bones, though his cheeks run a little towards gaunt. His face remains unlined. His skin is a warm peach. His wolf form is entirely silver, lean and long-legged. His shoulders are broad, but he leans towards slim elegance, a graceful dancer’s build with some definition.

12. Leo Soto (pansexual, he/him) is the werepanther Alpha. Young for an Alpha, he succeeded by killing the previous Alpha as is custom with werepanthers (or so it seems). He is attempting to change the way the pride behaves but meets resistance. A bit of an idealist he is often frustrated by what he calls outdated moralities but lacking little in the way of different life experiences tends to exert the authority of his position when challenged. He often appeals to higher powers for guidance, especially when trying to remain calm. He is eager to work with Gabriel, and is nervous and a little naive when it comes to relationships. He views forgiveness and compassion as priorities, despite little in his life showing him the advantages of those qualities.

He stands at 6′1″/185 cm. He is Hispanic, with sienna skin and broad cheekbones. His solid black hair is usually kept in a long,single braid running down his back. Deep golden-brown eyes are set beneath dark, prominent brows. He has a sharp jawline, softened by the remnants of his youth. His body is honed, ready for fight or flight, sinewy and graceful. His white teeth flash often in smiles from behind soft lips. He has a single tattoo, a pair of angel wings on the nape of his neck, usually concealed by his hair.

13. Ryder (Eljas) Alsvartrson (bisexual, he/him): Warlock, born Eljas but renamed himself Ryder as the centuries passed to blend better. He has a brother named Nate who is a perpetually high necromancer.

Warlocks are territorial due to the nature of their power (demonic bargains) so he is the sole warlock in the city. (Warlocks are a type of magic user, and the term is gender neutral.) He has a soft spot for his brother even though he’s usually found yelling at him. Hates werewolves. Likes to use hellfire to burn things.

He has an intense hatred of weakness and is of the opinion that if you can’t hold onto power then you never deserved it. He has no qualms about killing and isn’t particularly good at relationships. Vain, he likes to enforce stereotypes of what a warlock looks like (according to him) so he goes around dressed in a black leather duster, black boots, black cargo pants, a (you guessed it) black shirt.

He is flattered by people giving him power. He is attracted to power, regardless of gender. Ryder finds ruthlessness and manipulating others a turn on. He can actually be protective of the MC if the relationship is approached carefully, but generally he prefers to be part of a power couple. (The tag #evil bean is his.)

His natural height is 5′5″/165cm, but he wears boots with lifts whenever he’s in public, bumping up his height by two inches. He’s Norse, and has straight, knee-length,white-blonde hair that pours over his thin body. His pale, almost white eyes peer out from beneath almost invisible eyebrows, his thin and humorless lips rest below his hawk nose, the tip of which is just slightly upturned. He has high cheekbones, and a long face, a rectangular jaw line but soft chin. He appears to be about 23 years old. He runs skinny, almost unhealthily so, lanky and lean. Natural physical strength isn’t something he concerns himself with, and one can tell.

14. Zaria Wangari (pansexual, she/her) is half-human, on her father’s side. Her mother is a Sauti ya hila (a species unique to the SoS world). Because of her heritage, she is incapable of hearing normal human vocal ranges, so for most intents and purposes she is deaf. She works as the Medical Examiner for Jericho City Police Department.

Because of her deafness, she typically won’t initiate conversations with unknown people or in large groups as she gets nervous about how she sounds. She is fluent in ASL, and the rest of the precinct has various levels of fluency in it as well.

She tends to respond logically to situations first, always being careful to consider things before speaking. She dislikes being rushed or pressed for quick decisions, and isn’t shy about letting you know so. Questioning her knowledge is a good way to offend her. She’s reserved until she knows you, and then is prone to slipping in teasing remarks when visited in her home domain (that being her office and lab). Outside of work, she enjoys spending time outside with Rolo, her Komondor (aka large mop dog). She is a wine aficionado.

Looking sharp and well-presented is important to her, and she is meticulous about the aesthetic feel of her office and home. Going to crime scenes can stress her out because of the potential for crowds and unexpected people; she likes being in control, and places with a lot of people tend to put her on the defensive and she shuts down. Going out in groups with friends that she knows is usually the way she counters for the lack of control in new environments, but in general she prefers to be a creature of habit.

Her natural eye-color is violet, so she wearsamber-contacts most of the time. Zaria’s hair is a wavy cascade of mahogany that she usually wears pulled back in a bun. Her natural eye-color is violet, so she wears amber-colored contacts. She often wears high-heeled boots that bump her height up to 6’ 2"/188cm (she’s actually 6’0"/183cm). She is 29 years old at the start of the story, but is often mistaken for being a decade younger. Luckily her height stops most people from attempting to card her or question if she’s truly old enough to have obtained her Doctorate in Forensic Pathology. She has prominent, high cheekbones and full lips. Her nose is broad, and her eyebrows arched. She has long legs and long, elegant fingers. She’s lean, but has broad shoulders, and knows how to flatter her assets.

15. Michael (pansexual, he/him) is an archangel and nestmate of Gabriel. Young Michael was eager to please and desperate to belong. Older Michael has become jaded and is a source of nearly constant conflict. His version of being overprotective comes across as controlling and stifling. Somewhere along the way something changed him, and the new Michael is often angry and upset, no real cause required.

In angel form, Michael stands at 6′2″/188 cm. Michael wears his long blond hair in a neat, single braid down his back. It falls to midback.There’s nothing in particular that stands out about his looks–standard black eyes, golden skin, large gold wings, lean and muscular build. His nose is on the small size, some might say more button-nose than not, his lips are thin, and his chin has a stubborn jut to it. In human form, Michael’s form is 5′10″/178 cm. His hair is cropped short and blonde, about an inch-and-a-half in length. He has wide whiskey brown eyes. He has a stubborn chin, a short face, and a button-nose. His shoulders are narrow and his frame lean. His lips are thin and usually turned down to mirror the slant of his thick, light blonde eyebrows. His skin is an almost unhealthy shade of white. Slightly older than Gabriel.

#master post #ROs #character descriptions #All the ROs #all the romances #Alice #Iain #Stephanie #Zaria #Charleston #Tadea #Leo #Tom #Karyn #Iro #Aelius #Ryder #Sabriel #Ramiel #Michael

249 notes · View notes

of-a-chaotic-mind · 4 years

Text

The Ace Part 7

Summary: Some cuddles, some hangovers, and some intel.

TW/CW: Pietro x Reader, mentions of being drunk and hungover

A/N: I seem to be off my writing game because I found it difficult to figure out how to write this.Hope you guys enjoy!

Part 6

Your POV

As the jet lands, we gather our things to load them into the cars awaiting us. As we all pile into the three cars, Steve passes out the room keys. To keep a lower profile, we are pairing up two to a room. Pietro and are sharing a room, Tony and Thor are sharing a room, Steve and Sam are sharing a room, Clint and Bucky are sharing a room, and Nat and Wanda are sharing a room. As Steve lists out the pairs, Tony whines about being bunked with Thor. Thor is an exceptionally loud snorer and it is doubtful Tony will get any sleep.

Once we arrive at the hotel, Steve instructs us to meet at his room after dropping off our stuff for a brief meeting before we have dinner and rest up. We are staying on a floor lower than Laska in hopes that he will not see us come and go. As Pietro and I arrive to our room, he wraps me in a hug, “Are you feeling alright? You slept most of the flight.”

I nod but bury myself further in his arms, “I’m okay, just nervous. This is my first mission with you guys.”

He releases me but keeps his hands placed on my shoulders, “You’re going to do fine. The best way to face anxiety about this sort of thing is to jump right in. So, let’s go find out what Steve has to say.”

I nod as he leads me out of the room. We find Steve’s room and knock on the door. Within seconds, Steve swings the door open and welcomes us in. We find a seat and patiently wait for the others to arrive.

After several minutes, Steve is ready to begin the meeting, “Alright, I just wanted to go over the agenda for the evening and tomorrow,” he says as Sam passes out a paper copy to each of us. Tonight, is just dinner at 18:00 and then resting in our rooms. However, tomorrow is jammed packed with information meetings, intel gathering, and mission preparation.

Several hours later, Pietro and I are snuggling into bed for a hopefully great rest. We’re both exhausted beyond compare and slightly drunk. He pulls me close to him and I snuggle into his chest. As I doze off to sleep, I am met with unnerving dreams. They aren’t necessarily nightmares until the moment that Pietro falls backwards off the roof of a building after being shot. As I sit up straight in bed, Pietro wakes up in alarm, “What is wrong, Draga?” I am left speechless and simply cuddle closer to him as I clutch onto the front of his shirt.

The next morning, I awake as the alarm goes off. I hit the silence button and sit up to stretch. Pietro sits up in bed next to me and wraps a shoulder over my arm, “What did you dream about last night?” “I dreamed that you died,” I state simply.

He pulls me closer into a tight hug, “I’m okay. I’m here and I’m going to do my best to never leave you.”

My thoughts catch on the “his best” part but I know he means well. In our line of work, we never know what is around the corner. As we both drag ourselves away from each other and out of bed, I begin to wonder about what the day may hold.

Once we are dressed and ready to go, he takes my hand in his as we leave the room. Upon arrival to the conference room the team has reserved, we find most of the team already there with Tony and Thor dragging up behind us. Thor’s smile beams so bright it hurts my eyes but Tony looks like walking death.

As we all take seats, several heads turn to Tony as Steve asks, “I’m assuming you didn’t sleep well?”

Tony gives him a death glare as Sam laughs, “And paired with that hangover, Tony might be out of commission today.”

Tony grumbles as he grabs a mug and pours himself some coffee. Steve begins with a brief explanation of today’s tasks. We have to go over the plan for tomorrow night as well as gather information on any newly confirmed attending guests. Tony also has to go over everyone’s gear and make sure everything is clean, functioning properly, and therefore ready to use.

As we all set to work on our assigned tasks, none of us can foresee the coming day turning sour.

Part 8 || Masterlist

Taglist: @morsmordrethings @silentcoyotesong @bisexual----mermaid @minamisulemisa @sailor-moons-butt @smilexcaptainx

67 notes · View notes

queeralienblast · 4 years

Text

Our Words

Before we go any further, we’d like two make two things very clear:

1) None of us (Sarah, Amanda, or Mich) will be speaking on this topic again. Either through QAB accounts or our personals. At this point, it’s beating a dead horse because neither “side” is going to win this difference of views.

2) We will not apologize – ever - for having opinions and expressing them on our podcast. We are not an official podcast, we are a fan podcast, and we have the freedom to say whatever we want on a project that we put our blood, sweat, and tears into on a daily basis.

With that in mind….

We knew certain corners of this fandom would take offense at some of our opinions and views. We’re sure it’s not the first this has happened. It probably won’t be the last. When we first broached the subject of discussing the RNM/Malex fandom in this episode, it was never an attempt to call people out or vague or whatever we’re being accused of. It was meant to facilitate a discussion about the very real issue of biphobia and fetishizing in this fandom and others. It’s real. It exists. We are bi women in this fandom and we have seen it in this fandom. If you actually take the time to listen to the episode, you’ll find where we ACTUALLY talked about biphobia as it relates to Michael’s relationships with Maria and Alex:

“I just want everyone to be cognizant of the fact that there are bisexual people in this fandom who are in male/female relationships. And so when some of these discussions happen it becomes personal, it becomes not about the show and it's not about Malex. You are attacking the validity of other people's relationships. That was the line for me. Is that it stopped being about Roswell and started being about, "well you're only valid if you're with someone of the same sex."”

Whether or not you think we worded our argument “brilliantly” is a matter of opinion. We stand by Amanda's words.

We never, under any circumstances, mention fans by name on the podcast unless they ask a question relevant to the topic at hand. If you or others felt like we dragged you into the biphobia or fetishizing argument, well…to be completely honest that is on you.

If you read the transcript or listen to the episode, you will find that we never said anyone was wrong for not shipping Miluca (none of us do, and we expressed that in the episode) or even shipping Alex and Forest. What WAS said was that we felt it was odd to ship Alex with a character that does not exist yet. MLM ships are the overwhelming majority of online fandom these days, and it is our opinion that you have to be careful of that line between celebrating LGBTQ representation and just wanting to see hot dudes make out. That is our opinion, not a fact or us trying to push some “we are right and everyone else is wrong” agenda.

We never said that anyone was biphobic for not shipping Miluca. We said that, if Miluca keeping Malex apart was the SOLE reason you’re not shipping Miluca, but you are shipping Alex with an unknown character, then you should probably evaluate why you feel that way.

“You can say that you don't like Miluca because it gets in the way of your ship. That's fine, that's a valid reason. But then the same has to go for Alex and this new character. You have to say I don't ship someone because they get in the way of my ship.”

“…you don't have to ship Michael and Maria, I don't ship them. It's valid. Whatever the reason.”

You absolutely do not have to explain your choices or justify yourself when it comes to liking or disliking characters or ships. Neither do we! We find shipping Alex and Forest before we even know for sure who he is distasteful to us, and we are allowed to express that view on our podcast. We’ve never said anything in the podcast that we haven’t or wouldn’t say on our own blogs.

We expected a backlash when we recorded the episode (seriously, you should hear the outtakes). But we stand by what we said, because we said it in the hopes of sparking a conversation about some of the very real issues in fandom (not just RNM, fandom as a whole). If you took personal offense to our opinions, we can only say that that is unfortunate and move on.

Finally, we do have one more thing to say regarding the backlash….

We understand that people were upset over our comments. While we received copious amounts of anonymous hate (most of which was not published) and we were ready for that, what we were NOT prepared for was to see our friends attacked anonymously simply for being associated with us.

That is not okay, under any circumstances. Coming after people (anonymously) because they are listeners or friends of the hosts, when they have absolutely nothing to do with the show itself, is unacceptable. If you have an issue with us or our show, come to us.

Again, this will be the last time any of us speak on this issue.

Thank you,

The QAB Team

#QAB podcast #roswell nm #roswell fandom #fandom discourse #roswell cw

27 notes · View notes