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Latest Posts by moremysteries - Page 6
IRIS - Spoilers Disguised As Memes [PART 3]
This is the fourth and last option of the community poll. Next up: yet another poll! If you wish to choose what to see next, join us!
Work on IRIS the remaster has officially began! Content is shown on the B/T community a couple days prior blog posts.
IRIS' L. is the placeholder title for an upcoming (Teen bordering on Young Adult) book: a portal fantasy, whimsical story with teen drama, mystery, venturing and body horror. It is part of the Creation And Destruction (Standalone) Tetralogy, the very first installment of the first BAD TOKENS story.
a few great films that are free on the internet archive
in decent quality too!
here is the archive collection of these films so you can favorite on there/save if desired.
links below
black girl (1966) dir. ousmane sembene
the battle of algiers (1966) dir. gillo pontecorvo
paris, texas (1984) dir. wim wenders
desert hearts (1985) dir. donna deitch
harold and maude (1973) dir. hal ashby
los olvidados (1952) dir. luis bunuel
walkabout (1971) dir. nicolas roag
rope (1948) dir alfred hitchcock
freaks (1932) dir. tod browning
frankenstein (1931) dir. james whale
sunset boulevard (1950) dir billy wilder
fantastic planet (1973) dir. rené laloux
jeanne dielman (1975) dir. chantal akerman
the color of pomegranates (1969) dir. sergei parajanov
all about eve (1950) dir. joseph l. mankiewicz
gilda (1946) dir. charles vidor
the night of the hunter (1950) dir. charles laughton
the invisible man (1931) dir. james whale
COLLECTION of georges méliès shorts
rebecca (1940) dir. alfred hitchcock
brief encounter (1946) dir. david lean
to be or not to be (1942) dir. ernst lubitsch
a place in the sun (1951) dir george stevens
eyes without a face (1960) dir. georges franju
double indeminity (1944) dir. billy wilder
wild strawberries (1957) dir. ingmar bergman
shame (1968) dir. ingmar bergman
through a glass darkly (1961) dir. ingmar bergman
persona (1961) dir. ingmar bergman
winter light (1963) dir. ingmar bergman
the ascent (1977) dir. larisa shepitko
the devil, probably (1977) dir. robert bresson
cleo from 5 to 7 (1962) dir. agnes varda
alien (1979) dir. ridley scott + its sequels
after hours (1985) dir. martin scorsese
halloween (1978) dir. john carpenter
the watermelon woman (1996) dir. cheryl dune
Does anyone know a name for lamp shades with this texture, or how to describe that?
Source
about the author
Hey! I'm D. A little about me… I’m a 30-something Midwesterner who has been writing for as long as I can remember. I have a passion for fantasy & romantasy books, especially if there's a morally gray MMC involved. Some fast facts: 🗡️ I’m a cat person and pet mom to one (1) disheveled gremlin 🗡️ I went to a Stephanie Meyer book signing when Eclipse came out and I’ve been chasing that high ever since 🗡️ My favorite authors are Margaret Rogerson, Holly Black, Stephanie Garber, and Carissa Broadbent!
my writing
These are my four WIPs. I'll be tagging posts about each, so feel free to view the tags for more on any individual work. My books are not spicy but still contain steamy, swoon-worthy romance.
🖤 The Mists of Morrow Vale is a dark, gothic NA romantasy trilogy with mystery, magic, and morally gray characters. My original inspiration was the Barovia setting from D&D: think lots of fog, a creepy castle, and a forest with a mind of its own. This is my current project.
🖤 Kingdom of Wrath & Ruin is a NA vampire romantasy duology with a plus-sized FMC who would burn the world to save her sister (and a vampire general who would help her do it).
🖤 A World Away is a YA fantasy romance trilogy with a focus on the Fae. Old gods, royal courts, and political intrigue collide with a FMC who just wants to mind her own business.
🖤 Prophecy is a traditional fantasy series meant to be enjoyed by readers of all ages: think Tamora Pierce meets Studio Ghibli. This series spans multiple generations and will have as many books as it takes!
My inbox is always open if you want to chat! <3
Updated!
[ABOUT]
I’m Carter (she/him) and I’m a 20 year old Black lesbian. Writing has been my passion and favorite hobby for as long as I can remember, but when I’m not writing I’m out following my second passion in college (environmental science). My activity wanes in and out, but as of May 2025 I’m still here! My main blog is @phantomfemmes, which is where I like and follow from as well as post about whatever my heart desires.
I am going through an obsession with horror, so if you write that, feel free to tell me about your wips. I’m also a big lover of poetry, “flowery” prose, and anything featuring wlwoc as main characters.
[WIPS]
I have two main wips that I work on from time to time:
The Taste of Hallowed Earth (formerly All That Remains)
Twelve years ago, Sadie Copeland’s older sister, Leila, vanished from their hometown in Salvation, Mississippi and her family was never the same again. Sadie’s mother packed their things, driving until Salvation disappeared in the rearview mirror and the whole thing was nothing but a nightmare. But no matter how far they drove or how much time passed, Sadie had never been able to shake the feeling that there’s more to the story than what her mother let on.
Following the death of her mother, nineteen year old Sadie finds herself back in Salvation, the place where it all began. Upon arriving there, it is clear that something sinister is going on—something that no one wants to talk about and that everyone hides from when the sun goes down. And while Sadie has never believed in ghost stories (at least, not in the spectral sense), she can’t help but fear what may be lurking in the darkness that surrounds Salvation.
Themes: gothic horror, southern gothic, unreliable narrator, small towns, unreality, paranoia, death, grief, estranged familial relationships, mother/daughter relationships, paranormal, religion, trauma, ghosts, queerness, psychological horror, religious horror
In the Heart of the Ocean
In the Heart of the Ocean follows Carolina “Caro” Bell as she recounts the disappearance of her best friend Moira from their quiet coastal town as teenagers, and Moira’s subsequent reappearance three years later after emerging from the depths of the ocean with no memory of where she’d been—only to disappear forever the following year. When Caro’s niece, who she has temporary custody of, nearly drowns in that same sea twenty years later, Caro decides to finally explore the secrets contained in its dark and murky depths. But in order to do so, she must first confront the past and the truth surrounding Moira’s disappearance.
Themes: literary fiction, queerness, magical realism, female rage
I made a song for giving you song recs for your OCs! For those who are into that, feel free to give it a follow.
Songs For Your OCs
Hi hi! This is a blog run by @moremysteries to help you find songs for your original blorbos and original works. Please review the information below, and happy requesting.
Ask Rules
I am not comfortable with minors interacting, so begone minors!
Always assume I am not familiar with your OCs and give the relevant information for whatever you are requesting. If you plan to send me a character bio, awesome! But please point me in the right direction so I know which parts are most relevant for whatever you are requesting. (EX: Can you read the section on their teen years and give me song recs that fit?)
Yes, you can request songs for NSFW scenes. Just please do not request songs for assault scenes, as I find that too triggering. Outside of that, please let me know the vibes of the scene or the character dynamics so I know what kind of songs you're looking for.
I will rec songs for abusive relationships, but please don't send in requests asking me to do so through a romanticized lens. I am also not comfortable giving song requests for CSA or incest, sorry.
I am fine with people sending multiple requests, but please limit yourself to six requests max. I will take my time on requests, so don't pressure me.
I reserve the right to not complete any request that makes me feel uncomfortable for any reason.
What you can request
Recs for songs that fit your OCs or a certain aspect of your OC.
Recs for songs that fit a certain scene.
Recs for songs your OC might listen to based on their tastes.
Recs for songs that fit a relationship between your OCs.
Recs for songs that fit the vibes or a certain aspect of your WIP.
Recs for songs based on a playlist you already have, a song you strongly associate with the OC, wip, scene, and so on, a moodboard, etc.
Just always remember the more relevant details you give me, the more accurate the recommendations will be. For instance, "my OC is named Bill and loves dogs". That's sweet, but will their love of dogs help me find songs that suit them? I personally doubt it. A sentence like, "my OC is named Bill, and he's a sweetheart that works at the local dog shelter because he loves animals," is much more informative. This is just an example of a helpful sentence, but please give me more than just that sentence. 😅
I love dandelions!
*puts a dandelion in your hair*
Reblog to put a dandelion in prev's hair
I'm a lesbian and i see myself in media about bi women, also in media about gay/bi men. even if it's not Entirely made for me, it's still for me. and I know and hope that other gay/bi people are able to see parts of themselves in lesbian media. sorry to be cheesy but we are more similar than we are different and it's those experiences we share that draw us to these stories in the first place, and the reason we're even telling them <3
I hope you don't mind me reblogging, but I love this addition.
As a college writing major, I am imploring some of you to understand seeing a work in a different way than the author intended is not "media illiteracy". This is not a church and the writer is not the pope.
I am gently encouraging y'all, if you think this, to look into literary theories, because then you will realize there are multiple valid ways to study and interpret a work. And guess what? Some of these theories do not explore the author's original intent at all, but rather let the work speak for itself. That is a valid way of reading a work just as much as researching the writer's intent or background. I am especially concerned about this attitude I am seeing in the younger generation that there is only one way to interpret a piece of art. That is not the beauty of art.
I am especially tired of seeing posts like this about the classics, usually by individuals who make jokes about how people who don't view a work the way the author intended "need to go back to high school". I do not blame them for this ignorance, but I am begging them to learn about media analysis outside of the high school classroom, because high school only teaches you one way to approach stories.
Also, nothing makes me roll my eyes more than when people yell "media illiteracy" towards someone interpreting a work differently due to their unique experiences. The amount of singlets who yell "media illiteracy" when I, a plural person, try to explain my discomfort towards most possession stories, is so annoying. Like, it isn't an attack, it's sharing a different view point based on my unique perspectives as a plural person. This is a great opportunity to learn about experiences other than your own, not to trounce people.
As a college writing major, I am imploring some of you to understand seeing a work in a different way than the author intended is not "media illiteracy". This is not a church and the writer is not the pope.
I am gently encouraging y'all, if you think this, to look into literary theories, because then you will realize there are multiple valid ways to study and interpret a work. And guess what? Some of these theories do not explore the author's original intent at all, but rather let the work speak for itself. That is a valid way of reading a work just as much as researching the writer's intent or background. I am especially concerned about this attitude I am seeing in the younger generation that there is only one way to interpret a piece of art. That is not the beauty of art.
I am especially tired of seeing posts like this about the classics, usually by individuals who make jokes about how people who don't view a work the way the author intended "need to go back to high school". I do not blame them for this ignorance, but I am begging them to learn about media analysis outside of the high school classroom, because high school only teaches you one way to approach stories.
Also, nothing makes me roll my eyes more than when people yell "media illiteracy" towards someone interpreting a work differently due to their unique experiences. The amount of singlets who yell "media illiteracy" when I, a plural person, try to explain my discomfort towards most possession stories, is so annoying. Like, it isn't an attack, it's sharing a different view point based on my unique perspectives as a plural person. This is a great opportunity to learn about experiences other than your own, not to trounce people.
I primarily write horror mysteries, so you night like some of my stuff. I also include a lot of queer characters.
Active writeblrs?
Yelling out into the writeblr void because I haven't been active on here in over a year and my dash is super empty, so if you're a writeblr please reblog this ♡
I especially love horror, mysteries, and really anything about queer characters!
My primary project is a southern gothic horror about a girl returning to hometown after more than a decade, which you read more about on my intro post.
Don’t mind me, I’m just sitting in a dark room reading my writing out loud like a dramatic narrator to see if it’s working.
Writeblr Intro circa 2024
Hi writeblr!! Sooo, I've been around here since about 2014. (Yes, I am ancient.) However, I've been dormant for the past 4-5 years. Blame college and a brief stint on Twitter. Now that I'm active again, I thought I should make an updated writeblr intro so ppl know my Deal. Basically, I want to engage with other folks who write fiction (esp original SF), and that's a little easier if I have a clear post that outlines what I do. Here to make connections and hear about your blorbos :)
About me
Hi, I'm Vee! They/them, 23, 💖 🤍 🧡
I do journalism/comms in western New York
My literary jam is feminist/adult SF and gothic lit (OG or modern) 🥀 ⚔️ 🌙
Enthusiastic about gay people, body horror, and sociopolitical allegories
I cook, run, play tabletop games, and occasionally draw. Other than that, I'm mostly writing (for work and for fun)
If you were on pre-2020 writeblr, you likely know me from my eight billion daily tag games. (I still like tag games and appreciate u for tagging me. I have also gained adult responsibilities and better mental health, so I respond very slowly now. <3)
Always happy to get asks or dms, tho as I've noted: I may reply slowly.
Sometimes open to beta read! I only read one longer project at a time, but it's always super fun :)
I tag very consistently – happy to tag triggers for followers/moots
Fun fact: I love mushroom hunting and worked as a mycology TA. #cottagecoreera 🍄 🧚♀️ 🌱
About my creative writing
I write,,,, feminist/adult SF with gothic leanings (surprise!)
Longform and short! Trying to do more short writing this year, and I'll likely share a bit on Tumblr. It's easier to clip a short story than a 150k novel, god bless.
The Aesthetic: moral g(r)ays, Victoriana, androids/cyborgs, Women™, monstrous femininity, incessant Hamlet/Frankenstein motifs, extremely boring socioeconomic worldbuilding, evil queens and/or dilfs, psychosexual witchcraft, probably a cat. Also, an ominous, plot-relevant letter laced with anthrax from your unhinged and brilliant ex-wife. Open if you dare.
Major projects
I'm going to be writing some short work this year, but these are the longer projects that I have going in the background. If I reblog blorbo-related text posts, they probably have something to do with these.
Let me know if you want to be added to any project-specific taglists 😎
Heart of Lead – Series
The big one
Perpetually evolving
Never ceasing
Pls send help I can't stop adding shit
5-book gothic fantasy epic that I'll definitely publish one day but probably no time soon! My bastard child, my wicked firstborn, my greatest love <3
Character-oriented political drama set in a pseudo-Victorian, dystopian oligarchy where everyone's heart is made out of metal. It's about coming of age and discovering queer identity in a world that is absolutely fucked. God is an extraterrestrial lesbian who gives ppl very traumatizing magic powers. There are cyborgs, shapeshifters, and morally gray women in STEM. It's tight as fuck idk what else what to tell u.
Book 1 is about achillean monarchists, and book 2 is about sapphic anarchists. There are only two genders, I guess.
At this point, I've drafted most of the books at least once. Working to refine a lot of raw material atm!
Tag: "heart of lead tag" or "hol tag"
Lost Letters – Book
Aka the current active HoL WIP, and book one in the revised series structure
Length: 80k as of now; around 120-140k when the first draft is finished, I presume.
Genre: adult fantasy, gothic, noir detective drama?? um?? If you want me to frame it in BookTok terms (why?) it's a dark academia villain x villain tragic romantasy. Hrgh.
Summary: Cyborg soldier goes to college, joins a shady socialite frat, and falls in love with the jilted heir-apparent to the throne. Hilarity ensues.
(By "hilarity," I mean a militant revolutionary faction and a tragedy of Greek proportions.)
POV characters: Charles (the cyborg), Dale (the heir), and Cecelia (Charles' sister, a junior detective, the love of my life and potentially the Chosen One???)
This book is twisty and dark and immensely fun to write.
I'm about halfway through the first full draft! Hoping to share snippets and vaguepost about my children here.
Tag: "lost letters tag" (also "hol tag," tho that one's less specific)
The Last of Mortal Tourists – Book
The next longform project on the docket!
Length: a standalone work that will hopefully fall on the shorter novel/novella spectrum.
Genre: literary SF, cyberqueer, psychological space quest
Summary: The consciousness of a dead coding genius, trapped inside a spaceship, seeks a new planet to sustain their sister, the last surviving human, after the destruction of Earth.
If you're here to get wildly philosophical about gender and the myth of essential self, this is the story for you! That's why I'm writing it, lol. 🏳️⚧️ 🚀 🤖
This one started out as a short story (100% finished) which I want to expand.
POV: Archer Alto, the coder. Spaceship? Human? Soul?
Supporting Cast: Pandora, the last human, and Abby, a holographic impression of Archer's childhood consciousness
Tag: "the last of mortal tourists tag" or "tlomt tag"
If you read all this way, you get a whole bouquet of flowers that are certainly NOT poisonous: 🌸 🌹 💐 🥀 🌺
<3
I just wanted to thank you all for taking the survey, showing interest in my work, and to assure you that this has not been forgotten, it's simply being worked on in the background. I'm making a blog with a pinned post that will link to other, important information post, like world building goodies and character profiles. I wanna ensure all of that is done before sharing it with y'all. I'm also considering the approach I want to take with this idea, and stuck between two ideas at the current moment. When I have more substantial snippets, I'll share them here.
@floofyboi57, @aralithmenathere
Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.
Minors please do not interact
This ended up longer than I expected, so I apologize in advance if any of my points came out jumbled. I am also neurodivergent, so if I sound harsh, I assure you this is not my intent. I just struggle with tone at times.
Firstly, here's a thought I want to present to the table, one that's honestly made me grow a lot as a writer, and one that I think is relevant to this topic; why should readers read our works the way we want them to? Writing is a conversation, and though that conversation may begin with us, it certainly doesn't end that way. You may want to surprise your audience with this content, but shouldn't it be up to them whether they maintain that surprise or prepare for it? To you, the surprise is important and adds to the weight of the dark subject matters you cover. It might even be enjoyable and the way you view this content for yourself, but that will not always translate to your readers. Let's also not forget that, for some, a list of trigger warnings makes them more excited to read a work. In general, as writers, let's not forget how diverse our audiences can be, and that the reactions of our readers or what helps our readers feel more engaged will not always mirror our experiences.
Let me put this into another context. As someone who needs trigger warnings, I think this explains my experience rather well, and why I personally don't agree with the idea that trigger warnings ruin the surprise. It could also be argued that flashing lights and affects lose their surprise factor if they are warned about, but creators of visual media understand the risks of not warning viewers, and that this is more important than the surprise factor. As someone who isn't affected by flashing lights, I can assure you this warning leaves my mind almost the second after I read it (more of scan it like "yeah, yeah, take me to the game"), and I still end up surprised. The game Mi/side warning me about flashing and glitch affects did not stop me from nearly jumping out of my skin everytime I was suddenly met with one. The context is what makes these flashing lights so shocking moreso than whether someone knows about them ahead of time or not. Being suddenly triggered can make someone go to extremely dark places, and that's worth avoiding. Though I think how trigger warnings are presented can be more flexible than flashing light warnings.
In my opinion, at their best, trigger warnings are extra material readers can consult if they want to, but also something they can avoid if they want to go in completely blind. The important thing is that the audience member consented to either experience. Since I've used the word, let's discuss the matter of consent and art. I think it's often not discussed enough within creative spaces, despite how important it can be. In my opinion, it is everyone's right to have enough knowledge to be able to fully consent (engage with the work) or not consent (not engage with the work) to reading about certain sensitive subjects before being exposed to them. The thing is, when you're an indie creative, readers can't just use a site like doesthedogdie, or other similar tools. Providing optional trigger warnings can help readers have a better experience, as they are given more agency towards what they consume. Encouraging agency shows a respect for your readers time and energy. However, I do feel for writers that use websites like Wattpad, as, unlike AO3, there aren't many good places to put these warnings. So that's definitely worth acknowledging.
Secondly, as someone who had to deconstruct this notion within myself, I think it's worth acknowledging that trigger warnings are viewed as deflating the seriousness of something, or making something seem "childish", for two reasons (I know you only said the former, but the latter is an opinion I've seen as well). One, they are yet to be normalized, mainly for reason two. Two, the experiences of certain trauma victims are so terribly misunderstood that big parts of them are believed to be over exaggerated or "actually not that bad", which causes the tools we need to be treated as "not that important". I wish I was kidding when I say I have literally seen people laugh at accurate depictions of PTSD flashbacks, because they know so little about our experiences they think it's just a funny over exaggeration. I've even had some expect me to laugh with them before, because that " obviously can't be right".
Logically, there is no reason why trigger warnings should be seen as any different than a description or blurb about your story. For instance, writing an informative description about my horror works doesn't take away their scare factor, a description just requires me to put it into different packaging. It won't feel as poignant as the actual horrors within, but that's okay, because the point of a description is to intrigue and inform. They help future readers decide if they'd be interested in a work or not, and properly set their expectations walking in. They are a tool for drawing in audiences just as much as they are a tool for scaring away anyone who absolutely would not enjoy the experience.
And let me be clear, I personally believe it is impossible to warn against every possible trigger, as some triggers can be very personal or obscure. However, I do think it is important to offer a warning for the "obvious" triggers, such as the covering of sensitive topics like abuse. And yeah, I think trigger warnings can be that straight forward, such as "this work covers themes of abuse and may not be suitable for some audiences". You don't have to spoil the important parts of your works in trigger warnings, just make people aware certain content is there if they don't want to consume it. Us creators may overlook some things, as we're only human, but, for me personally, it's the effort that matters.
As for how bad being triggered by a work can be, I can speak to that, as someone who has been suddenly triggered before. It can ruin an entire week, sometimes more, and throughout I essentially have to deal with a plague of horrific memories, or experience several nightmares about my trauma. To summarize, it is extremely distressing and essentially makes me non operational. It feels like being put into a mental coma where the only thing you can have is nightmares, and when you eventually do wake up, you still understandably feel awful and extremely fatigued, emotionally and physically, from all the stress. I've literally been made bed ridden and physically ill from being triggered unexpectadly. I am now reminded of how little this experience is understood, and I am putting it into my latest writing project effective immediately. I do my best to make informed choices with the media I consume, but this recent trend I've noticed of surprising the audience as much as possible with sudden triggering content, these works often having no warnings whatsoever, makes it extremely difficult to do so. Because, you know, until that point, the work gave off the impression of not planning to cover that kind of content at all.
This got more wordy than I intended, and I apologize if my frustrations concerning the topic came through. My intent is to inform, not to ridicule, and I hope that was made clear, though I know my neurodivergent self can sometimes sound harsher than I intend. As a writer in the horror space, it can be rare to find another horror writer who uses trigger warnings, so I am usually wary towards reading their works. This can certainly make it harder to connect with fellow writers. And when I do try to read ones without warnings? Well, I am so prepared for anything to the point I end up focusing on that more than whatever I'm reading, and typically just end up dropping it altogether. So yeah, that's my experience, take it or leave it. At the end of the day, writers are free to add or not add trigger warnings, but, I personally strongly advocate for their use when it comes to sensitive subject matters. I will also always try to educate about how bad the experience of being triggered actually is whenever I am able.
Poll time!!
hihi, just posted a scene from a wip and figured i should add trigger warnings, but that made me curious so
my opinion about this may be a tad controversial, id prefer not add trigger warnings, but i do add them just out of understanding and to avoid triggering others.
all my WIPs include heavy themes, and i know that i will always be writing heavier angstier stuff, i dont like adding TWs on wattpad or wherever i publish my stuff because i feel like it takes away from the seriousness of my story. when youre going into it, i dont want you to know what to expect, i want you to be shocked and feel negatively about certain events or characters, and imo trigger warnings just take away from the shock value.
i will admit my privilige though, i have been through traumatic things but nothing that triggers me, so i dont understand how bad things could get for someone to be triggered about certain things in stories.
if you wanna discuss this or comments or reblogs please remain respectful, because this is a conversation i want to have and i want to be more educated on the topic of TWs, but i will not engage with things i deem as disrespectful.
reblog to remind prev they're not a bother and their presence is wanted <3
Love the idea of having a diary for a character, and this is so beautifully written!
5/2
The death of winter is the birth of spring. There’s a certain melody to spring that I can’t quite capture. Is it the hum of the insects leaving their hiding spots I’ve not yet found? The chirps and caws of the animals greeting the still frigid morning? Or could it be the wind that no longer bites at my skin with a deathly cold but instead carries new life: seeds. The scenery is foreign to me now. I had grown used to the blank, muted world, where only the orange from the flames in my hearth broke through the colorless world. Spring comes every year, and yet, I grow no less used to this continuing cycle of life. I am always surprised by the way life continues after tragic deaths.
This book had sat on my desk, untouched for months. It had gathered a thick layer of dust. I stared at it many nights, knowing I had much on my mind. Still I did not write. I have grown comfortable speaking in my own head. Holding the pen is uncomfortable, the ink drips in the pages as I hesitate with my words. I will write, and need to practice what I am not used to. Before I had learned this skill I was ashamed of my incompetence. And yet, having now learned, I find many excuses not to write. My friend would find this humorous. I know that very well. But I love to see his laugh.
Teenage Wasteland - Chap. 2 - Bad Music and Good Desires
Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Original Work Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Tegan Raines, Samantha Corino Additional Tags: Original Fiction, Young Love, Teenagers, 1990s, Original Character(s), Original Story - Freeform, LGBTQ Female Character, Queer Character, LGBTQ, LGBT, queer Summary:
In the spring of 1997 close to summer break, fourteen-year-old Tegan Raines. A former orphan and foster child, now living with her grandparents. Meets the new girl across the street who, unbeknownst to both, have their lives changed for both the better and the worse.
****
tag list:
@fablesandfragments @seastarblue @vesanal @theink-stainedfolk @leahnardo-da-veggie
@aalinaaaaaa @an-indecisive-nerd @write-with-will @the-ellia-west @carb0n-m0n0xide
@inadequatecowboy @kitkins13 @watermeezer @shepardstales @bardic-tales
@dyrewrites
Want to join the tag list? Click here and interact with the post, or send me a message!
Reblog to bonk your mutuals on the head every time they start thinking negatively about themselves
I talk a lot about using your local library, and as a person with a fantastic local library, I am privileged in that push. Unfortunately, it has become apparent in the new year that the budget for audiobooks has shifted. Whether due to inflation, changes in funding, or something else, my local library has not been buying as many audiobooks, which affects me as an audiobook reader deeply.
The secondary service I rely on after the library is, without a doubt, Libro.fm. So, if you want to help me get access to more books, and also enjoy an audiobook service I genuinely believe in, check out my referral link. If you use it, I get credits, which I use to expand my digital library when the library rejects my suggestions.
Here is my referral link:
Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.
Minors please do not interact
Teenage Wasteland - Chap. 2 - Bad Music and Good Desires
Sunlight streamed into Samantha’s cavernous garage, illuminating a lone, scarlet-colored toolbox and stacks of cardboard boxes which smelled faintly of dust and old newspapers. Yet more pervasive of all was that stench of motor oil which clung to the air, a thick, greasy perfume even the strong breeze couldn’t quite shift. This emptiness came with a strange comfort, the perfect canvas for Sam and Tegan’s rehearsal space; the quiet hum of the neighborhood traffic added a low background thrum to their afternoon. Samantha’s parents’ absence, a welcoming situation, stretched out before them like a long, open road.
“Yeah, we both should sing, right? Like, If’n it makes you feel better. I can be the lead, but you got to be my back up.” Samantha offered the well-used can turned weed-bowl towards Tegan. “I can’t be singing alone, ya know?”
The metallic clang of the can against the lighter echoed as Tegan inhaled deep of the weed’s smoke, the butane’s sharp scent stinging her nostrils. She sat the can down on a rough, large cardboard box, its texture a sharp contrast to the smooth metal. “I can’t sing for shit,” she mumbled, her voice husky from the smoke. “You are the one with the beautiful voice.”
“Hah! No! I’m going to go all punk with this shit. Because this isn’t ‘bout beauty. We’re going to make music and say, ‘fuck the man,’ all at the same time.” Samantha’s passion took over as she strummed the V-shaped guitar strapped around her. “Now let’s make some music!”
With a snorting laughter, Tegan nodded. “Fuck yeah! We’ll be the next Bratmobile or Bikini Kill. But before we get to that point, co-band leader, what’cha playing?”
“I don’t know! Fuck it! Let’s jam!”
Not saying a word, Tegan moved over to Samantha, the soft brush of her cheek against Sam’s was a fleeting whisper. An almost secret smile played on their lips; they both smelled of Teen Spirit, the Romantic Rose aroma, that is. They’d tried to conceal their affections from the older generations—a hushed giggle, a furtive glance, but here they could do what they wanted. Being so far back from the road, no one could see them.
Samantha was still brand new to playing guitar but made up for it with sheer enthusiasm and a can-do attitude that most did not have with something they were so new at. No imposter syndrome for her, no self-consciousness telling her she could not do it. Just a desire to play and play she did. Not great, even by punk rock standards, but the pair played Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, and Jack Off Jill as rough and raw as they could—they played their hearts out over and over.
Sweat beaded on Tegan’s forehead, as that Carolina summer heat started early this year. Her sleeveless black tank top with that stylized heart and knife stabbed through it—a lucky purchase at the mall-soaked through and clung tight to her thin torso. Playing the bass line for the songs, eventually just playing whatever sounded good to her. It flowed with Samantha’s rather chaotic guitar-playing. She hopped around, scream-singing whatever came to mind, which was both good and hilarious.
“I’m your whore! The one you adore!” Samantha yelled into a microphone that didn’t exist, which had Tegan doing her best not to laugh.
They lost track of time, and people had driven past on their way home from a long day. That’s when Tegan noticed the sour expression on Mister Oakley’s face. A man in his mid-forties and about as conservative and closed-minded as they come. That type of Christian that followed none of the tenets of Christianity that hated everything and everyone that was not white, Christian, and straight. Anyone who did not fit into his archaic view of what Americans or America should be. Tegan was well-acquainted with this man in the past. So, as he stomped up the driveway, she knew this was going to be a bunch of bullshit.
“What in the hell are you two doing?” He stepped up, chest puffed out and hands on his hips. “This isn’t the type of neighborhood that allows such type of music. We don’t like punks here. Tegan, you have a long history of being nothing but a pain in the ass ever since your grandparents did this entire neighborhood a disservice. By bringing your inconsiderate, rule-breaking ass home.”
Which was Mister Oakley’s modus operandi, to act like he had the higher moral ground. When, in actuality, he was just a bigot.
****
In the late winter of 1993, on March 13th to be exact, brought with it a blizzard of sorts. Where temperatures dropped beyond any normal winter, and alongside that, over a foot of snow in some places within the upstate of South Carolina. Which neither the state, nor any of its citizens knew what to do, nor were they prepared for such a snowfall. The south froze over that day, and despite it all, Tegan’s life finally opened up, and in a fashion, defrosted for her. With previously unknown grandparents spending months freeing her from this prison, and everything seemed brand new and beautiful.
On the long car ride from Spartanburg to Simpsonville, her grandparents—Sadie and John Morgan—asked a hundred and one questions. Of which Tegan had no issues answering, though her right knee bounced the entire car ride. She wasn’t sure if that was from her nerves, or if it was the excitement which surged through her veins. Her new life would begin; she never thought it would at all. That there came with her life a curse, unbroken and unbothered, yet here it was broken and bothered.
“We promise to never send you back there. No matter what,” grandmother assured. “Ain’t that right, John?”
“You’re one of us. Family watches out for family,” grandfather agreed. “I just wish your mother remembered this.”
“Not now,” Grandmother admonished.
Sullivan Road winded its way through a thickly-wooded area on the outskirts of Simpsonville, SC. Several parcels of land portioned out with every house a ranch-style, every third one just the same as the third before it. Lawns neatly-manicured and maintained, covered in a layer of snow. Which gave everything a soft, sculpted veneer, as if crafted by the hands of a master. Kids in their thickest clothes ran about throwing snowballs at one another, building snowmen, and for Tegan, it was a first-time experience.
“Can I play in the snow?” Tegan asked, already wanting to jump out of the car and do snow angels. Get completely covered in the white, frozen stuff, and enjoy that sense of freedom that tasted oh-so-good right now.
Grandmother bade Tegan to wait; to let her get situated into the bedroom they had prepared for her. To eat something more hearty and bone-warming than the rather sad breakfast she ate that morning; but, more important than all of that, the five simple rules of living with them: Finish all homework on time, making sure grandfather checks its—no excuses barring sickness. Definitely no drugs or drinking whatsoever. Be back home by 9:30 pm sharp, 9 on school nights. No one can come over unless they are cleared by grandmother first. And absolutely no boyfriends over, though this was not an issue for Tegan.
All easily agreed to by Tegan, who then stuffed herself in as much warm clothing as would fit over her and rushed outside into the snow. With blustery winds and dancing snow, Tegan ran over to a group of kids who were engaged in a light-hearted game of throwing snowballs at one another. Kids who introduced themselves were kind to the new girl, and only asked surface-level questions about where she came from. It was a beautiful kind of freedom.
“Oh! So, you’re that kid that came from the orphanage? The broken one?” Asked Lisa Oakley, her black hair pinned back behind her ears.
“Father says you were unwanted, and we shouldn’t associate with someone tainted like yourself,” said her twin brother Robert.
The two teased Tegan over and over, and it caused her fists to clench, her jaw to clench. While the other children were nice enough, the twins kept pushing her throughout the whole time. To not jeopardize her new home and her place within it, Tegan just took it until it became almost too much. That after Robert asked what happened to her mother, or if she even had one. Tegan lashed out to where he took a swift punch to the nose, followed by being tackled by the smaller girl, and a rain of punches landed over and over. He did not know how to defend himself in the least.
Strong arms wrapped themselves around Tegan and pulled her off the boy, who lay in a pool of freezing blood and sobs. She wriggled around enough to elbow the man in the nose and escape his clutches. To notice that it had to be their father, for he looked just like the boy quivering on the ground.
“Stop attacking my children, you demon!” He shouted with the fury of an angered pastor. “I saw it all! You just blindsided him for no reason!”
“No reason, eh?” Grandfather trudged out through the snow. “For the things he said, he deserves even worse. You touch my granddaughter again, and we’ll have some real issues here. Understand?”
Pointing his finger at grandfather then at Tegan. “Do not even talk to my children again, you-you forgotten child! Jesus has no place for the unwanted and unwashed, like you.”
****
He’s been the same since the day Tegan moved here.
“Okay, old man, you can fuck right on off,” Samantha growled, resembling a guard dog. “This is not your house at all. If you have an issue, call the fucking cops and see how seriously they take you.”
Mister Oakley took a step forward but stopped suddenly at Samantha’s voice. “Another fucking step and I go to my dad’s gun cabinet. You have come onto my parents’ property, making two underaged girls feeling WAY unsafe. Any issues? Take it up with my father. He’ll tell you the same that I told you. Go eat a fucking dick. You are unwanted, unwelcomed here.”
As if he had just experienced the most traumatic event, Mister Oakley stood shell-shocked. Tegan took the opportunity and said, “you heard her! We’re just having fun and hurting no one. Does having fun hurt you?”
“I-it’s not good!” He sputtered out.
“No fucking shit, dude. We’re just starting out and learning,” Tegan fired back with more venom than she expected. “Why don’t you just go back home to Missus Oakley, and disappoint her in all ways, and just leave us alone?”
“Well, I’m going to tell your parents,” he threatened as he pointed at Samantha, “and tell your grandparents about this!”
Tegan shrugged, readjusted the faux leather of her bass strap before she resumed playing. With a disgruntled huff and the soft thud of his loafers on the concrete driveway marked the man’s departure. Sam’s laughter, bright and clear, filled the air as she playfully hip-checked Tegan, the impact a gentle, almost loving jolt. Followed by a quick, fleeting kiss on Tegan’s cheek. Then back to his guitar, the enthusiastic strumming a cheerful, if a bit clumsy, melody.
Eventually, the two young teens had to depart, and Tegan carried her bass in its case across the street. Her mismatched eyes turned toward the Oakleys just down the way, and an overwhelming desire to throw rocks at it almost overcame her reasonable side. Being so late in the school year, there was not much homework for her to do. So, instead, she watched MTV Live and tuned out on the pop music that played in the top hits of the week.
“So, Tegan,” Grandfather began as he cut into his steak and shoved a piece into his mouth. “Mister Oakley said you were very rude to him today. Even cussed at him.”
“Meh, he’s a holier-than-thou blowhard, grandpa,” Tegan replied as she poked her fork at the mashed potatoes on the plate. “Plus, he was saying some mean things to Sam.”
Grandmother gave a half-laugh. “He is a blowhard, honey. But I do have a concern. He said you two were playing music and smoking weed?”
Not looking up from her good, Tegan took a bite, always loving how buttery and garlicky grandmother’s mashed potatoes always ended up as. “Yeah, well, we were playing some music. She’s learning to play guitar and is getting better, after all. So, since her parents were gone, we figured why not jam out in her garage? Might even form a band. Maybe. Either way, Mister Oakley didn’t like it.”
“And the weed?” Grandfather’s tone took on the one that Tegan recognized as his not-messing-around voice.
“He said he was going to try and get me in trouble. Just making up some bullshit,” Tegan muttered.
“Language, Tegan,” Grandmother admonished, but neither said anything else about the matter.
After dinner, America’s Funniest Home videos blared on the television as Tegan was interested in everything else but that. Waiting until the house went quiet, she laid on top of her thick blanket with only the lamp on the bedside table on. A creased copy of Alanna: The First Adventure in her hands, and despite how worn-out it was, and how many times she had read it. Tegan could always get lost in the Kingdom of Tortall and Alanna’s adventures as a page in a fantasy Royal Court. Sure, Alanna had to hide her gender and pretend to be a boy, but it didn’t last the whole story. It just seemed so romantic and awesome and so much better than the boring-ass town that is Simpsonville.
Tap-tappity-tap came from outside her window, and Tegan paid it no heed at first. Just a bird far-too-close to her window, yet it happened again with more insistence and need. Crawling across her bed, Tegan peered through the blinds to see the beautiful face of her girlfriend, who gave a wide grin and a wave. “Hey, Tee! Come out here!”
Pulling open the window, Tegan giggled as she climbed through and landed barefoot on the soft soil of the flowerbed. Doing her best to not step on any of grandmother’s prized flowers. Before she could even gain her bearings, Samantha pulled her into the shadows that concealed the side of the house away from the prying eyes of the neighbors and the road. Sam was very much assertive, almost too much by some standards, but Tegan loved the dominant side. When Samantha would press their lips together with such force and passion, to be desired as such and to be loved as such, or at the very least, to be lusted after. Each teen’s hands would embolden and explore each other every time they kissed and embraced.
Samantha’s hand lingered at the edge of Tegan’s shirt, as the faint sound of their breaths mixed with the rustling of fabric. The touch of recently-calloused fingers traced a path up Tegan’s smooth stomach, sending a shiver down her spine. The air was filled with a hint of anticipation as the fingertips playfully danced just below the curve of Tegan’s breasts.
“What if someone sees us?” Tegan finally protested, but she didn’t protest strongly.
“No one’s going to see us,” Samantha’s tone carried with it something Tegan had never really heard before, a true longing, desire, and lust toward her. “I have this burning need to feel, to taste every bit of you. I want to make you quiver, squirm, and cum.” At those words, Tegan had to stop herself from moaning out with barely a touch by this point.
The warm evening air smelled ever sweeter as Samantha lifted Tegan’s shirt to expose the pale-skin beneath and kissed her belly button. Which caused a soft giggle to escape from her, who said not a word but bit her bottom lip as Sam' moved upwards at a slow, deliberate pace. Indescribable, utterly indescribable were the feelings in Tegan’s mind as her eyes closed, just as Samantha’s lips found the buds of her destination.
“Keep your beautiful eyes open,” Sam whispered her demand. “Makes it so much better.”
Yet before Samantha could really turn Tegan’s life around, the light in the house beside them turned on and forced the two teenagers apart in the blink of an eye. Tegan pulled down her shirt, face flushed, breathing deep and heavy, and Samantha’s frustration etched across her face. When the older woman peeked through the blinds at them, the two teens gave a short, sharp wave.
“Son of a bitch,” Tegan groaned.
Samantha sighed but then giggled. “I was feeling so, you know, horny for you. We can always go somewhere else.”
“Not tonight. We need to find more privacy around here.”
“Yeah. Sorry, I’ll find something. There’s got to be somewhere.”
Tegan pulled her girlfriend into a tight hug and kissed her on the nose. “Never apologize. I’m just happy Missus Auerbach over there doesn’t gossip.” With a bashful smile, she tucked a strand of reddish-blonde hair behind Samantha’s ear. “There’s still so much in front of us, you know? Though, I agree, we need a place to be together from prying eyes.”
“Blah, I’ll see you at the bus stop.” Samantha planted another long kiss on Tegan’s lips before she scampered off back home.
After she crept back into her bedroom, Tegan kept the window open, which allowed a cool night breeze to stir the curtains, whispering against Tegan’s face as she snuggled under her soft blanket. Sleep evaded her for who knows how long; Samantha’s lips, warm and lingering on her breasts, played on repeat in her mind. This memory, this vivid memory, sent shivers down her spine; a potent cocktail of longing and arousal surpassed anything she had ever known before. She ached, oh did she ache for Samantha—her touch, the taste of her skin, the lovely fresh aroma of her hair, every exquisite detail that her girlfriend brought with her. Tegan bit her lip, a sharp sting against the overwhelming heat that built within. Her hand, much like a silent intruder, slipped beneath the soft-blue cotton panties. A muffled moan followed by a breathy sigh escaped as she encountered the slick, undeniable evidence of her desires and lust she felt. It did not take her long to reach that peak she was not unfamiliar with.
She brought up two fingers slick with her own moisture; Tegan pulled them apart. A glistening strand stretched, then snapped as a wave of hot shamed washed over her—she’d never imagined herself rubbing one off to someone she actually knew and not some hot celebrity. Yet, the cool night air on her skin offered a stark contrast to the fiery blush that stained her damp, sweat-covered cheeks. The intensity of her orgasm was unlike anything she’d experienced before; Samantha had truly ignited her, and this was not quite as satisfying as she suspected being with Sam would be.
Was this just hormonal lust, a wildfire of tingling skin and racing pulse? Tegan knew she cared for Samantha; she always did her best to make Tegan feel cherished, and vice-versa. But was their intense attraction merely physical, a symphony of breathless sighs and flushed skin and stolen kisses, or something deeper? She wasn’t sure; love felt like a hazy dawn, a dream that slipped through the mind once awoken, and had no true examples of how it was supposed to be. If it meant the sun-warmed happiness of Samantha’s presence, each day brighter with her laughter, then maybe, just maybe, it was love.
“Shit,” Tegan cursed before she got out of bed to clean herself up. Changing out her sheets, tossing them into the washer and tossing herself onto the fresh set. A fresh wave of exhaustion overcame her, and this time, Tegan fell into a deep, sound sleep.
****
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The iron hand of Götz von Berlichingen (1480-1562), a knight and mercenary who lost his right arm in a siege [640×360]
y'know it is possible to hold all the following to be true at once:
'abled' and 'neurotypical' are constructs, rather than a specific group of individuals. every human body and mind has a range of things it can do and cannot do, and the lines we draw between 'abled' and 'disabled' are largely arbitrary
some of us are Disabled and unavoidably so, and this has real and continued impacts to the way we live our lives. the things we aren't able to do are hard and unchangeable limits. disabled people like us have always existed and always will
people are rewarded for proximity to the abled standard, where the better you are at imitating 'abledness' the more you're rewarded, both implicitly and explicitly
the process of hiding your disability or attempting to imitate abledness is difficult, stressful, and has adverse impacts on a persons health and well-being, and it is certainly not the preferred way for a person to have to live their entire life
and we have to get better at letting all of these truths sit side by side without falling into the pit-falls of "everyone's a little bit disabled" vs "you have to be This disabled to count". also worth saying that all of this Must sit alongside a genuine commitment to listen to & respect & advocate alongside people with higher support needs
Binding A Page In Print!!!
It took a month to work out all the kinks (lol) but our steamy vampire romance novella Binding a Page is finally available for print on demand! (Meaning you won't find it on the shelf in a physical store: they only print a copy when you order it.) I know it's at Amazon and Barnes & Noble's site, and it should be at most other online retailers.
There's the front and back covers and first page of my author's proof copy, looking good!
Binding a Page: Chris is a small-town high school drop-out from West Virginia, still trying to find his feet in the deadly currents of vampire high society after being turned into one of their Rulers by accident. Gabe is a disgraced Page, stripped of his bond and left starving and alone in Chris's guest bed by a man who wishes neither of them well. An unlikely match, nonetheless Chris and Gabe find themselves drawn together against a world they're desperate to escape… and find in one another a chance for true freedom.
Content warnings: Mention of: domestic, emotional and sexual abuse, drug use, captivity, violence, non-consensual bondage.
“Bought it and read it all the way through in one go, I couldn't put it down—sweet, hot, and great worldbuilding!” —ValencePositive
“Highly enjoyable for fans of complicated vampire politics, emotionally-sensitive men who want to do the right thing, and sex that’s full of feelings.” —thinofsubstance
I'm extremely excited about getting a book into print, and I hope our readers are too. Go forth and order if you want to hold this book in your hands!
Help out indie writers with no ad budget!
Our Michigan Fleet sequel novel (working title "Run Aground") is a good distance through the editing process, and we plan to post it on Royal Road as a free webnovel starting sometime in May! Before then, we thought we'd go ahead and get the first book, After the Storm, up there, both to attract new readers and hopefully to entice some of our loyal regulars to reread.
We now have After the Storm fully queued up, posting one illustrated chapter every Sunday at noon. Today, March 9th, Chapter 6 went up. So here's where you come in: we need as many recs and reviews as we can get on this new platform so when we finally start on the new novel it'll go as well as possible! We are SO looking forward to sharing Run Aground with all of you, and every fav, follow and review will help make it a success.
So go check out After the Storm, and make our day!
After four years of hell serving aboard the Sympatico, a dysfunctional ship with a deadly crew, all Rich wants is to prove himself worthy of an unexpected second chance. Get some sun, make some friends, maybe hook up with a cute guy and even learn to relax. But old scars, bad habits, and an insane AI aren’t going to make it easy…
Teenage Wasteland Chap. 2 Snippet
Sunlight streamed into Samantha’s cavernous garage, illuminating a lone scarlet-colored toolbox and stacks of cardboard boxes which smelled faintly of dust and old newspapers. Yet more pervasive of all was that stench of motor oil which clung to the air, a thick, greasy perfume even the strong breeze couldn’t quite shift. This emptiness came with a strange comfort, the perfect canvas for Sam and Tegan’s rehearsal space; the quiet hum of the neighborhood traffic added a low background thrum to their afternoon. Samantha’s parents’ absence, a welcoming situation, stretched out before them like a long, open road.
“Yeah, we both should sing, right? Like, If’n it makes you feel better. I can be the lead, but you got to be my back up.” Samantha offered the well-used can turned weed-bowl towards Tegan. “I can’t be singing alone, ya know?”
The metallic clang of the can against the lighter echoed as Tegan inhaled deep of the weed’s smoke, the butane’s sharp scent stinging her nostrils. She sat the can down on a rough, large cardboard box, its texture a sharp contrast to the smooth metal. “I can’t sing for shit,” she mumbled, her voice husky from the smoke. “You are the one with the beautiful voice.”
“Hah! No! I’m going to go all punk with this shit. Because this isn’t ‘bout beauty. We’re going to make music and say, ‘fuck the man,’ all at the same time.” Samantha’s passion took over as she strummed the V-shaped guitar strapped around her. “Now let’s make some music!”
With a snorting laughter, Tegan nodded. “Fuck yeah! We’ll be the next Bratmobile or Bikini Kill. But before we get to that point, co-band leader, what’cha playing?”
“I don’t know! Fuck it! Let’s jam!”
Not saying a word, Tegan moved over to Samantha, the soft brush of her cheek against Sam’s a fleeting whisper. An almost secret smiled played on their lips; they both smelled of Teen Spirit, the Romantic Rose scent, that is. They’d tried to conceal their affections from the older generations—a hushed giggle, a furtive glance, but here they could do what they wanted. Being so far back from the road, no one could see them.
****
@fablesandfragments @seastarblue @vesanal @theink-stainedfolk @leahnardo-da-veggie
@aalinaaaaaa @an-indecisive-nerd @write-with-will @the-ellia-west @carb0n-m0n0xide
@inadequatecowboy @kitkins13 @watermeezer @shepardstales @bardic-tales
@dyrewrites
I've gotten some really good responses, and thank you all who took the survey! I am unfortunately not in the mental headspace right now to start properly working on this, so if you didn't answer the survey before but want to, now is your chance. I don't think I'll ever be closing the survey, mind you, but at some point things will start to be set in stone, and though new responses will serve as inspiration, they probably won't be a part of the character creation process.
Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.
Minors please do not interact