#the shack at the end of the lane

[saintsenara]

author self-recommendation

thank you so much for the tag (quite a long time in the past...) @ashesandhackles!

when you get this, reply with your five favourite fics that you've written. then pass it on to five other writers. spread some self love.

did i laugh at self love? the answer is yes.

these are my five (and by five i mean six) favourite complete fics - obviously i’m sufficiently fond of my wips to keep coming back to them, no mean feat for someone with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder - and i’m hyped to get to showcase them.

bookbinding

tom riddle/myrtle warren teen | 35k words

lord voldemort and moaning myrtle in a rom-com - and especially a rom-com with a happy ending - may not appear to be the instinctive response to a prompt from @ladiesofhpfest asking for heartthrobs and heartaches. and yet, when i started writing it i couldn’t stop. my profound affection for dear old tom marvolo riddle is well known, but i’ve also always been very fond of myrtle, and i really dislike the way she’s treated in the canon narrative - especially, as i’ve said before, the fact that she is one of the worst victims of jkr’s tendency to use a lack of conventional physical attractiveness (and, in particular, fatness) to indicate characters the reader is not supposed to root for. 

i like the fact that the glimpses of myrtle we see in the series - when she’s not shrieking (behaviour, may i say, i find relatable) - show someone who has lots of admirable traits, which are only poorly expressed because she’s forever fourteen (can you imagine). she’s kind, she’s perceptive, she’s strong-willed, she’s sensitive, she’s assertive. on the other hand, she’s clearly very lonely, she can be extremely clingy, she’s unhappy at hogwarts, she’s insecure. she’s also someone with a bit of a cruel streak, who clearly understands the impulse to externalise one’s own self-loathing onto other people.

in other words, she’s tom’s dream girl. once she’s worn him down a bit.

i loved writing this, i made myself chuckle self-indulgently on multiple occasions, i have teared up at dozens of the comments i have received about it (someone made a reddit post recommending it at exactly the moment i was leaving a horrendous day at work and i was on the train howling like myrtle in her u-bend), and i like to imagine the two of them are still happy nonagenarians in some universe somewhere. 

everlasting ink

harry potter/ginny weasley teen | 6k words

this was a gift for @whinlatter, because she is a sweetie-pie. it was also a gift for me - not only because it was lovely to write, but because it enabled me to indulge in one of my favourite emotions: spite.

i am on the record as not being a fan of hinny. there are several reasons for this, some sillier than others, but one major one is that harry’s idealisation of ginny within the seven book canon into a place of comfort and safety is pretty fucking condescending. harry never acknowledges in the text that ginny spends deathly hallows as a resistance leader in her own right, he's constantly trying to direct her away from the fighting despite acknowledging generally that she is a talented duellist, he associates her primarily with the safe-space of the burrow, he breaks up with her ‘for her own protection’ without offering her a choice in the matter, he doesn’t welcome her into his intensely co-dependent relationship with ron and hermione, and - and i think this really is the kicker - he's incredibly dismissive of her experience with tom riddle. indeed, harry separates the voldemort of canon out into two people: there’s tom, who is an orphan, and is hot, and whom harry pities; and there's voldemort, who has red eyes, no nose, and killed his parents. but ginny can’t have these two separate people in her head. the horror she experienced came at the hands of the pretty, charming, sympathetic voldemort - and harry really doesn’t get that. and sure, by the epilogue harry and ginny appear to have ended up in a happy, equal marriage. but the text never shows us how they get there, and i think it’s perfectly plausible to write stuff in which they don’t.

which is to say, i published an extremely tongue-in-cheek post saying this, and several hinny fans were amusingly passive-aggressive about it. undoubtedly they thought my position as a tomarry defender had scrambled my brain and i couldn’t see the beauty with which the complex parts of their favourite ship could be written.

so i did it. six thousand words on ginny and harry learning to function as a couple among the dust of war and grief, featuring ginny’s complicated feelings on how harry sees her, voldemort, being a daughter and a mother, relating to ron and hermione, heredity, love, and what being a family really means. i enjoyed writing it, and the chance it gave me to think from the other side about what hinny would need to work, how the characterisations of harry and ginny (and voldemort!) i typically write could be nuanced, and what trauma looks like in the immediate aftermath of the battle of hogwarts. and i also enjoyed writing it to prove that i could.

that i have received no reciprocal tomarry in return has been noted…

leather

nymphadora tonks/multiple explicit | 3k words

this was something which spiralled out of a conversation with @evesaintyves around the blind-spots many of us have as authors when thinking about sexuality and gender identity - and especially how those blind-spots become particularly pronounced when they come up against canon compliancy. initially, we were talking about hinny - and the fact that keeping them as end-game has absolutely no reason to prevent either of them identifying as queer, either of them exploring their sexuality or gender identity within their relationship, or, indeed, either of them still understanding themselves as cisgender by the time the epilogue takes place - but we then moved on to talking about tonks, and how the readably queer aspects of her canon characterisation (at least in order of the phoenix) are treated within many of the popular ships which feature her, and, in particular, how both her and lupin’s (potential) queerness is sometimes obscured within end-game remadora. there are numerous reasons for this, and the vast majority are - of course - the result of gentle, human fallibility rather than maliciousness, but it set me to thinking…

so here we have a canon-compliant look at tonks looking at herself, exploring her sexuality, becoming comfortable with her gender, and thinking about how her metamorphing would impact how she understands both of those things, shot through with the hedonistic paradise of the lesbian bar and the tight hold of leather. 

lux aurumque

sirius black & james potter teen | 3.5k words

sirius’ last days of normality, before he is betrayed by wormtail, haunt me. the idea of this poor lad, who is absolutely convinced he’s pulled a blinder which will keep the man he loves safe - even if it results in his own death - having that certainty pulled out from under him is just devastating. no wonder he couldn’t stop laughing at the grim absurdity of it all as they carried him off to azkaban.

one of the things i find most fascinating about sirius as a character is how he embodies the value of choice - and, above all, how he does so far more than james, whose brief appearances in canon set him up as someone with a much more self-righteous certainty about the path he will take than his best friend. sirius chose to leave his family, and fight, and protect the potters, and he also made a choice which would prove to be disastrous and lives with the consequences. 

so, here we have seven dawns which change sirius black - or, red and gold for the man who chose those colours and earned them several times over - featuring harry being a mashed potato fiend and maybe the tiniest bit of prongsfoot if you squint. 

there’s basically no lupin though, because he is - i fear - irrelevant.

nor all that glisters gold

sirius black & bellatrix lestrange teen | 9k words

i am definitely a committed james & sirius (or james/sirius) girly, but another dynamic i love to explore is sirius’ relationship with his cousins, bellatrix chief among them. in fact, i always think that sirius’ choices become all the more impressive when we consider that he’s - let’s be honest - quite a lot like his dear and deranged relative. they have a shared arrogance, a shared ruthlessness, a shared deranged jealousy, a shared dogged loyalty, and a shared complicated relationship with their role in their family, which i can see leading to an incredibly intense and codependent friendship, despite their age gap, when sirius is a child.

but this, of course, is then utterly torn apart when sirius enters his teens. this piece asks why. is it just the inevitable drifting which happens when one of you is married and the other is in gryffindor? or is someone else the cause? the dark lord, perhaps?

remus lupin is once again irrelevant in this. sorry to him.

the shack at the end of the lane

merope gaunt & voldemort general | 4k words

death is something i think about a great deal. not because i’m unusually morbid - nor, at the risk of protesting too much, because i’m a killer - but because i’m a doctor, in a speciality where death - and often death in traumatic circumstances - is ever present. obviously, one way of coping with this involves quite a lot of dissociation from what’s in front of you, but another is trying to treat the dead with as much dignity as possible, which is often more dignity than they had when they were dying. the cadaver is a colleague, as one of my professors was fond of saying.

spending so much time trying to offer this fundamental dignity is the cause, i think, of my fondness for attempting to write meaningfully about people who are in no way the heroes of pieces. the violent, the sad, the lonely, and the unlikeable appeal to me far more than the good. our star, merope gaunt, and the combined forces of the horrifying things she did to tom riddle sr. and the horrifying things she endured herself within a world which didn’t give her the tools to know any better, is all four of those things. and i have built her an (after)life here where she can try to make up for what she did on earth by acting as the ferrywoman for a procession of other lost souls on the other side of the veil...

i have taken so long to bother doing this that i’m sure everyone’s done it. if not, please consider this a blanket tag.

#asenora fic recs #hp fic recs #bookbinding #everlasting ink #leather #lux aurumque #nor all that glisters gold #the shack at the end of the lane #tom riddle x myrtle warren #hinny #nymphadora tonks #sirius black #bellatrix lestrange #merope gaunt

[hotchnisslvr]

reconciliation (pt.2 to how do we carry on?)

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: t

genre: hurt/comfort with a happy ending

word count: 7.2k

tagged readers: @izakopanyi2 @polireader @jihyowrrld @twilightlover2007 @queenanababy @feyrecarol @rousethemouse @endofthexline @jxvipike @donttrustlove @hiireadstuff @jenna50 @michasia24

The coffee that was hot an hour ago is cold and bitter now. You grimace as the acrid taste slides down your throat. You try to place the disposable cup into your cup holder without taking your eyes off the road, but miss.The lid slips off and brown liquid sloshes over the edge onto the passenger seat. You curse as you grasp the wheel with one hand while you try to mop up the spill with what random napkins you’ve acquired since you started driving. Fortunately, your purse is spared any damage, but the road map and photograph you’ve kept on the seat aren’t as lucky. Ignoring the map, you pick up the photograph and shake it, splattering drops of coffee across the dash. The edges curl slightly, but the photo itself is fine. You hold it awkwardly between your fingers as you return your hand to the steering wheel.

There aren’t many cars on the road at this hour. You glance down at the dashboard and see 02:32 illuminated in green. You aren’t sure where you’re going, you just know you can’t stay there. Even your own apartment didn’t feel secure, not with how much of him is there. Your lives are so intertwined, you see and feel him everywhere you go. It’s what makes, made? God, you don’t even know anymore. It’s what is so beautiful about your relationship, how seamlessly your lives blend together that you’re not sure where yours and his start and end. You’re both so fiercely independent while being so devoted and wholly part of the threads that make up one another’s lives.

Or so you thought.

As you slow to a stop at the red light, the only car at the four way intersection, your eyes fall to the coffee stained image between your fingers. You’re smiling at the camera meanwhile Aaron is looking and smiling down on you, the soft shimmer in his deep brown eyes captured by the lens. It’s your favorite picture. You took it from the frame at the front table before leaving. The sound of his sobs echo in your ears as the red light reflecting on the photo paper shines green. You blink and drop the photo onto the center console before shifting your gaze back to the road. A sign ahead reads to keep left to stay on I-95 South. Richmond and Virginia Beach are in big white letters under it.

Three years you’ve lived in Virginia, and you’ve never made it to the coast. Shifting the steering wheel, you guide the vehicle into the left lane and take the exit.

•

As the waves lap at your ankles, you close your eyes and turn your face toward the sun, the briny sea breeze gently tossing your hair. You inhale deeply and the sigh you exhale is overtaken by the quiet roar of the ocean.

Turns out getting a beachfront house isn’t as expensive as one might think in the off season and fortunately for you, Virginia afternoons in September still reach the high eighties.

The beach house is nothing fancy, more like a beach shack if you’re being honest. It’s one floor supported on high rafters, old wooden steps leading down to the sand. You climb them now and they creak beneath your weight. A half rusted outdoor shower squeals to life when you reach the deck and twist the faucet. You shiver as you rinse the sand off of your legs and arms, and well, everywhere. There aren’t many crevices it doesn’t manage to stick to. You swipe the pink and white striped towel you’d found in the linen closet off the railing and wrap it around your body. Once it’s tightly secured around your chest, you work off the cheap bikini you’d purchased at a year round souvenir shop down the road and spread it out to dry.

The screen door squeaks on its hinges as you enter the house. You should probably go for a proper shower and wash the sea out of your hair, but you can’t be assed. Instead, you crack open the fridge and inspect the pathetic hodge podge of groceries you’d purchased at the corner store. Food doesn’t even sound appealing. It hasn’t for days. Every time you try to eat, you just feel sick. Your stomach roils at the thought and you grab a seltzer water before closing the fridge with a grimace.

As you exit the kitchen, your eyes catch your phone and keys on the chipped granite counter. The black screen of your phone glints beneath the fluorescent kitchen lighting. You’d turned it off when you’d arrived, ignoring the fact that you had 8 missed calls from Hotch and twice as many unread messages from him. There’d been one missed call from Emily, a name you never thought you’d see flash across your screen again. God knows how many times you’d called her phone just to hear her voice recording before leaving a message about how much you missed her and wished she were there to give you advice or talk through a case. For a fraction of a second, you wonder now if she’s gotten the chance to hear those voicemails you’d left her. Did she hear the pain in your voice? Did she feel guilt over the messages where all you’d managed to choke out were incoherent sobs? All this time you thought you’d been talking to a ghost, but she’d been out there all along.

You tear your gaze away from the counter, leaving your phone where it is and cross the cream colored carpet to the small bedroom. Yellow wallpaper splashed with repeating patterns of palm fronds plaster the four walls. The bed frame is made up of white wicker and you fall back onto the comforter, the front of which is decorated with images of shells and starfish. None of the patterns in this house match, but you don’t care. You care about very little right now.

Before you can run away down that thought pattern, there’s a knock at the door. You sit up, brow furrowed, as you lean forward on your knees, as if doing so will suddenly grant you the ability to see through walls and who could possibly be here.

Maybe the owner? A neighboring off season beach goer? Hesitantly, you rise from the bed and tug on one of the guest robes that had been hanging in the bathroom. You drop your towel and shrug it on, tying it tightly around your waist before approaching the front door. You move slowly for two reasons: one, no one should know you’re here and you don’t know why someone would be calling on you, and two; what if it’s Aaron?

The knocking repeats. It's light but firm, definitely not Aaron. A woman, you think. You twist the deadbolt and pull open the door, surprise etching into your features as a woman a few years older than you stands behind the second screen door.

“Hi, uh, can I help you?” you ask awkwardly.

The girl’s dark eyes travel up and down your body. She looks at you through the door from beneath long lashes, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You can’t control the shocked gasp that leaves your mouth when she asks for you by name.

You try your best to school your facial expressions and by the slight smirk that crosses the girl’s face, you know you did a pretty poor job of doing so. “Who wants to know?” you ask, wondering if she’s someone who’s crossed paths with you before through work.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she answers, drawing out the last syllable of his name with an amused glint in her eye.

You can’t fight the eye roll that follows. Unbelievable. “Sorry, he wasted your time.” You move to close the door, but she throws open the screen door and catches it with her foot.

Your eyes flash to hers and you see the challenge in the depth of her hazel gaze, equal to the one in yours. “Hotch wouldn’t have reached out to me unless he was desperate,” she adds. “I think you might want to hear me out.” She extends a hand toward you. “I’m Elle, Greenaway to the BAU, but when I left I shortened it to Greene.”

Your brow furrows as the name rings the slightest of bells in the back of your mind. Hesitantly, you accept her ring adorned hand and shake it as your brain sifts through the number of agents you’d heard stories about in the time before you joined the team.

“How did you find me?” you ask as you step aside and admit her into the house.

Elle nods graciously as she looks around, though there’s not much to size up in the small rental unit.

“You think Hotch didn’t immediately have Penelope ping your phone when you left?”

You exhale sharply. “I turned my phone off.”

A short laugh leaves Elle, “Not soon enough.” She turns, a hand on her hip. “You got any beer?”

Your brow furrows, wondering who the hell you just invited into your house. You shake your head as you cross into the kitchen and open the fridge. You withdraw a big bottle you’d bought at the corner drug store. “I’ve got wine.”

Elle smiles. “That’ll work. Let’s head down to the beach.”

•

“Thanks,” Elle says coolly as you finish tipping wine into the plastic cup in her hand. You cap the bottle and shove it down into the sand between the foldable beach chairs you’d dragged down from their place on the deck after you’d gotten changed into something more appropriate to wear outside than a bathrobe.

You retrieve your cup from where you’d been holding it between your legs and take a long sip before sighing and settling back into your chair, the canvas stretching as you do so.

For a moment, you and Elle sit there in silence; watching the orange pink colors of the sunset start to streak across the sky as the waves crash against the sand.

“I had no idea about Haley,” she says after another minute goes by and you stiffen. It isn’t that you and Aaron never talk about her. Keeping her memory alive is so important for Jack and you know a part of Hotch will always love her. That’s never bothered you though. Aaron had told you that he and Haley had talked about that if something ever happened to either one of them that they would want the other to eventually move on and find love again, that they didn’t want the other one to spend the rest of their life lonely. I’m sure neither one of them ever imagined something like what had happened to Haley would ever come to pass though.

“Did you know her?” you ask, your voice tight with emotion at the thought of ever having to endure a loss like that. You’d joined the team years after her death and hadn’t known Hotch during the time he’d grieved her loss. From the stories he and Jack had shared, she seemed like she’d been a kind soul and a good mother.

Elle nods, her gaze fixed on the view though you see a glint of memory in her eyes. “Hotch wasn’t as serious then.” She pauses and smirks to herself. “Don’t get me wrong, he was still a hard ass, but there was also a lightness to him before and right after Jack was born. I remember when they first brought him into the office, such a tiny little thing all bundled up in his arms. Him and Haley had looked so at ease.” She sighs and takes a swig of her wine before continuing. “I think that’s when the job started to get to him, after he had a kid.” Her brow pinches for a moment. “I think Hotch started to see the men and women we put away more as the proverbial monsters that kids fear are lurking in their closets, except we know what horribly evil things the monsters are really capable of versus what a kid’s imagination can drum up. The worst their little minds can conjure up pales in comparison to the heinous files that cross his desk. I think Hotch wanted to protect that innocence so badly and shield Jack from all of the evil in the world that he threw himself further and further into his work, especially after how things with The Fisher King went down.” Your eyes don’t miss the way her hand presses against her abdomen. The stake jutting out of Emily’s stomach flashes in your mind and you flinch at the memory.

“Something happened,” observes Elle. She sits up in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees as she looks at you.

You scoff and take another drink, shaking your head as you do so. “Once a profiler, always a profiler.”

Elle chuckles and shrugs. “Old habits die hard.” Her features soften as she turns toward you. “Something happened though, didn’t it? I know you probably can’t share too many details. Hotch didn’t in the voicemail he left you.”

You perk up at that. “Voicemail?”

Elle nods, the gold hoops in her ears swinging as she does so. “Sorry,” she laughs coolly as she reaches into the pocket of her jeans. “I probably should’ve led with that.” She fishes her cell phone out and swipes her thumb across the screen. You brace yourself as Aaron’s throaty tenor echoes from the speaker on her phone.

“Elle, hi,” he starts and stops. An exasperated sigh follows. “It’s Aaron Hotchner with the BAU I—of course you know I’m with the BAU I don’t know why I led with that. Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from after all of these years but I didn’t know who else to call. I can’t,” his voice wavers here for a moment. “I can’t share details about the case we’re working on, but it’s bad and I had to make a decision.” He stops and clears his throat. “It was a decision that impacted the whole of the team and where it was for their protection, I may have ruined the best thing to have happened to me in years. Look, I know you left the Bureau. I know you changed your name to put distance between you and the BAU, and I don’t blame you. In fact, I think I understand you now more than ever. This job, the toll it takes—” his voice trails off and you hold your breath in anticipation. He goes on to explain who you are and why you left, obfuscating the exact details of the Ian Doyle case for security reasons. He explains how after no one had heard from you for forty eight hours that he’d worked with Garcia to ping your location, how he was more worried than anything else and just needed to know that you were safe. When Penelope had located you, he remembered that Elle had always talked about living on the coast. It had been a shot in the dark, but Penelope being Penelope, she’d been able to find Elle in a matter of hours. “I just need to know she’s safe,” he breathes. “Please, Elle. If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t lose someone else. I have to do better; by you, by Haley, by the team. I’ll spend the rest of my life making amends, but please, with this case still active, I just need to know that she’s ok. Call me back,” his voice quavers. “Please.”

The line goes dead and Elle slides her phone back into her pocket. “That was three days ago.” Elle’s brow arches, looking for a response. “So,” she adds, drawling out the ‘o’ sound. “Sounds heavy.”

You draw in a deep breath and down the rest of your wine. Aaron had sounded so tired on the phone. Guilt squeezes around your heart as you think about what he and the team must be dealing with. It’s reckless and stupid of you to have just up and left when Doyle is still out there with you and the rest of his team in your sights. You didn’t even bring your gun, sure that you’d be sending in your resignation after this cover up; but hearing his voice on Elle’s phone, the pain in it. What you’d been trying to ignore this entire time begins to wriggle its way toward the forefront of your mind; and that’s the hell this must have put Hotch and Emily through. You know he’d never do anything to hurt you, not intentionally, but how are you supposed to trust him if he could watch you suffer through the agony of her loss knowing at any point in time he could’ve put a stop to it? You squeeze your eyes shut because you know the obvious answer. There are things he has to do as Unit Chief, choices only he can make. Choices that don’t involve you or the rest of the team, and that doesn’t change because you two are an item. Still, the conflict wages on inside of you. All of this is true and he’s made choices and decisions that impact the team before, just never on this scale; not something that alters memories and fucks the psyche so irreparably.

“The heaviest,” you finally respond.

“You can talk to me about it,” she says, and you know her words are genuine. “I know I don’t have clearance anymore, so the cliff notes version works too.”

So, you tell her. About Emily, about Hotch, what you can about Doyle, the circumstances around Emily’s death, the grief, her undeath, the betrayal you felt, and everything that brought you to this moment with her.

Elle releases a low whistle and scoops the wine bottle up from the sand, pouring herself another glass and topping yours off. “That’s—” She pops her lips, considering. “Elaborate.”

“I’d say mind-fuck, but elaborate works too.” You quip bitterly and take a drink.

Elle cocks her head. “Hotch doesn’t do anything without careful consideration.”

You inhale deeply before taking another drink, a warmth starting to crawl beneath your flesh as the alcohol sinks in. You hang your head as you respond. “I know.”

“There’s a reason that I left the Bureau,” Elle says after a long stretch of silence. “I made a decision that ended my career, and it’s one I’d make again if I had to.” Her voice grows tight for a moment before she clears her throat and continues. “This job will drain you until there’s nothing left. I remember on the day I left I told Hotch about how I’d get so excited when my phone rang because it meant we had a case; but after I got shot in my own house and was lying on the floor feeling that man’s fingers inside of my gut, something changed in me forever that day. I went back to work after some time, but it was never the same. After that, every time my phone rang I felt paralyzed with fear because I knew what it was like to feel the way those victims felt in the moments leading up to their deaths.” Her voice quavers for a second and she swipes at a stray tear before choking out a laugh. “You’re not the same after something like. I know what it’s like to come back from the brink of death, and it sounds like this Emily knows too.” She stretches out a hand and grips your knee. “The only difference is that after I nearly died, I had the team. I had Spencer, Derek, Penelope, and JJ, hell Hotch was the one that came to my house and scrubbed the blood off of my walls before I got out of the hospital.” Her brow arches in response to my widening eyes. “Didn’t know that, did you?” She smiles and reclines back in her seat. “Emily didn’t have that. She didn’t have her friends, family,” she corrects. “Let’s be honest, the BAU becomes your family after a while.”

You nod in agreement.

“She went through that alone,” Elle continues and a pang of guilt shoots through you. “She didn’t have her family to turn to in a time where she probably needed you the most.”

It’s your turn to swipe at the tears that loose from your eyes. “I know that.” Your voice is tight as you choke back a sob. “I’ve always trusted the team, every one of them. How—” you suck in a shaky breath. “How am I supposed to trust them after this? What’s to stop something like this from happening again?”

Elle’s lips purse. “That’s the job we signed up for, isn’t it? Working for the government and all the shitty red tape they weave in and around the work we do.”

“If I go back,” you start. “I don’t think they’ll forgive me. I left when they needed me most. Doyle is still out there.”

Elle frowns and tilts her head back and forth. “You’ll never know if you don’t though. I couldn’t go back. My actions decided that for me. You have a choice, but you’re the only one that can make it.” She glances down at her watch and then out at the sun. It’s almost completely sunken down beneath the sea over the horizon, the orange and pink sunset fading to the purple gray hues of dusk. “I should probably get going.” She sets her cup down in the sand and stands, turning to you as she does so.

“Here,” she says, passing you a card from the back pocket of her jeans.

You take it, fingering the edges of the sturdy cardstock. Elle Greene: Social Services Coordinator is embossed in dark blue font followed by a cell phone, office number, and email listed beneath it.

“Call me if you ever want to talk. There are ways to do some good in this world without sacrificing your own happiness in the process.” She smiles at you before she starts toward the path that leads around the house and back to the road.

After a few moments, you jump up and call after her. “Hey Elle!”

She turns, brow arched toward her hairline as she waits for you to continue.

“Why’d you come?”

She slips her hands into her pockets and doesn’t say anything for a while, her green eyes focusing on her feet. When she looks up at you, there’s the faintest of smiles on her lips. “The day I left the Bureau I looked Hotch in the eye and told him that I used to wonder why he didn’t smile. When I heard that voicemail, despite how defeated he sounded, there was something in his voice that made me believe he’d found something to smile about again. When you work the job that you do, that I used to do, you have to hold on for dear life when you find the things that can make you smile after witnessing the things we do. I guess I don’t want him to lose what made him find his smile again; even after all these years I’ve spent angry at Hotch, I never hated him.” She sighs and looks like she wants to say more, but chooses not to. “Running away doesn’t solve your problems, it just keeps them at a distance until you’re finally brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.” Her jeweled rings catch the last rays of sun as she raises a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you around.”

•

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, the blue and green plaid fabric of the couch scratching the backs of your legs as you do so. You bite at your thumb nail as you eye your powered down cell phone from where it sits on the glass coffee table in front of you.

Elle’s words from two days ago hang heavy in the air around you.

Running away doesn’t solve your problems. It just keeps them at a distance until you’re brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.

If you turn on your phone, you know there will be a barrage of voicemails and text messages waiting for you. Or, there won’t be anything more than there was when you first shut it down. You turned your back on them when they needed you. It would be easy to write you off, after all that’s what you did isn’t it?

You drop your head back against the couch and groan, the feelings at war within you tearing at your insides; your guts twisted with equal parts betrayal over Hotch not telling you and the guilt of leaving the team instead of facing that anger and hurt head on.

It’s a giant mess; a tangled web of necessary lies and the red tape that binds the hands of those in positions over you and the rest of the team. The rational part of you understands this. In black and white terms, you understand that Unit Chief SSA Agent Aaron Hotchner had to make a decision to protect another agent, SSA Emily Prentiss. While Ian Doyle is a fugitive from the law believing her to be dead, her going into hiding not only took the target off of her back, but off the backs of all of your team members, yourself included, who otherwise would’ve been collateral damage in Doyle’s relentless pursuit of vengeance against Emily. All of this makes perfect sense.

It’s when the emotional, feeling half of you comes into play that the black and white turns to splotchy streaks of gray and you struggle to make peace with the rational side of things. When you look at it through this lens, your boyfriend and long term partner, Aaron, watched you throw up from dehydration over how long and how hard you’d sobbed over the death of best friend, Emily. At any point, he could’ve put a stop to your pain and didn’t.

Your fingers slide into your hair, gently tugging at the roots as you try to sort through these warring versions of yourself and the pieces of information and emotions that come with each. Because in your heart, you know and understand it’s not black and white. It’s gray and it’s messy. So, why can’t you reconcile both halves of yourself and just be okay with this then? Why can’t you just be overjoyed by the fact that your best friend is back from the literal dead? How many people in this life can say that that’s happened for them? Why can’t you just tell Aaron you understand what he did because you do, but at the same time you don’t? You wouldn’t have told anyone, but then that would be Aaron showing you preferential treatment and you’d be in no better position than he or JJ when it came to hiding this fact from the rest of the team. It’s something you’d talked about extensively when you first started dating and so far, it has been fine. He makes decisions that sometimes you agree with, sometimes you don’t. It is always just part of the job. So what does it all boil down to? Where does this leave you?

“Fuck me,” you whisper aloud as you dive forward and swipe the phone off of the table before you can really think about what you’re doing. You hold down the button on the side and it titters to life. For a moment, you close your eyes as you feel the vibrations pulsing in the palm of your hand, each one a notification of some sort. When they cease, you swipe directly to your contacts and select Aaron’s. His is the first to show alphabetically anyway. Your thumb hovers over the call button for only a second, before you exhale a shaky breath and hit the dial.

The phone barely presses against your ear as you catch the tail end of his hello. It’s after hearing his voice, that you’re rendered speechless.

“Baby, are you there?”

Your chest rises and falls, your heart rate quickening beneath your chest. You sniff as tears prick your eyes, not realizing how much you’d missed his voice until now.

“Aaron,” you squeak out, your voice cracking on his name.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Hotch says, a plea in his apology. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to fix this. I miss you. I love you.”

A sob shudders free from your lips as all of your walls come tumbling down and you let yourself break down to pieces of ash and stone. “I’m sorry I ran when you needed me.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron soothes. “It’s okay. It's over. We got him.”

You sit up and swipe under your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Doyle?”

“He’s dead.”

Panic rises in you. “And the team? Is everyone—”

“Everyone is fine. No one was hurt.”

You close your eyes and sink back into the cushions as your pulse levels out. “I’m on my way.”

“There’s no need,” he replies coolly.

Your brow pinches. “I don’t—”

The sound of a car door slamming echoes beyond the front door. You stand and the old t-shirt that belongs to Aaron falls to your thighs as you do so. You’d not even realized you’d packed it until you pulled it on after your shower earlier. The linoleum creaks beneath your feet as you cross through the kitchen and unlock the deadbolt. When you pull open the door, you gasp and drop your phone.

Aaron’s lips tremble as he smiles at you and takes the phone down from his ear. He ends the call and slips it into the pocket of his slacks. “I got in the car and just started driving,” he says as his glimmering eyes flit across yours, always the profiler checking for micro expressions. A desperate smile clings to his lips as he looks at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathe in response; unable to think of what else to say at the moment

His smile falters as he takes a step closer to you. You see his hand twitch ever so slightly at his side.

“Honey, I—”

You leap forward and throw your arms around his neck. He breathes a sigh of relief into your hair as his arms fold around you, his hands pressed flat against your back as if he can somehow hold you closer than he already is. His hands slide up your spine to curl around the back of your neck. When he pulls away, there are tear stains on his cheeks.

You reach up and swipe your thumbs under his eyes, his skin smooth beneath your touch. A smirk tugs at one corner of your mouth as you wonder when he had time to shave.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you say, still cupping his cheek in your hand.

He nods as he leans into your touch. “I know,” he says softly.

“I know why you had to do what you did.”

Another tear leaks from his eye as he presses his forehead to yours, cradling your hand against his cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else, but I had to protect you.”

“I know,” you say and you mean it. “I also know why you couldn’t tell me. I’m a coward for running away, but I just—I was so overwhelmed by everything. I didn’t know how to cope with your return, with Emily’s, with everything. I would’ve been a hindrance if I’d stayed, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run.”

Hotch shakes his head as he steps back to look at you, the dark slash of his brow set as he does so. “What you did was not an act of cowardice. Trust me when I say you are not the only one that has a lot of anger and frustration aimed at me right now. Spencer snapped twice at JJ. Morgan laid into me, and I deserved it. JJ and I always knew that if and when this came to light, that there would be consequences for our actions. It was a calculated risk, and I take full responsibility for it. After you left, I gave everyone the option to leave if they didn’t think they could work the case. You knew you weren’t in the right headspace and pulled yourself out. It was the right decision and no one faults you for it.”

“I’m still so mad at you,” you say.

Aaron’s lips form a tight line. “I know.”

“But I also love you.”

His brow relaxes at that admission and relief floods his gaze. “I’ll take your use of the present tense as a good sign.”

You both chuckle at that and a shiver races through you as a sea breeze catches your hair and sends goosebumps up and down your arms. You wrap your arms around yourself and incline your head toward his SUV. “Your go bag in there?”

He nods and you flick your eyes up and down the length of his figure. “Go on then,” you encourage. “Get it and come inside before I change my mind.” You smile and you feel it reach your eyes for the first time in nearly a week. He withdraws the key fob from his pocket and smiles at it in his hand, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh and turns to head toward the car.

He pops the trunk and returns with his bag slung over his shoulder. “You look good in my shirt,” he compliments you with a sly smile as he passes through the front door. You close and lock the door behind him and point towards the bedroom. “Don’t think flattery will get you off the hook, Aaron.”

“You’re pointing me toward the bedroom, so I can only hope that’s a good sign.”

“Nearly a week has given me a lot of time to think,” you call after him as he disappears inside.

When he returns, his suit jacket is off and he’s loosening his tie from around his neck. “And what conclusion have you come to?”

“To be determined,” you muse as you approach him. You finger the tip of his tie and curl your fingers around it before tugging it free and dropping it to the floor.

One of Aaron’s brows arches as he regards you curiously. His hand curves around your hip and you press yourself against him. Heat pools in your belly, but you ignore the sensation, hard as that is after nine months without him. He dips his chin to kiss you and instead of meeting your mouth, he meets your finger instead. You press it against his lips and arch a brow. “Not so fast, Hotch.”

He winces and inhales sharply, a pink blush quickly coloring his cheeks. “I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.” He admits against your finger. “You only call me Hotch when I’m in trouble.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh leaves your lips as you poke him on the tip of his nose, the slope of which you’d missed so much since he’d been gone. “How about,” you start and loop your arms around his neck, “we just talk? From the beginning, tell me what went through your mind and what led to the decision. We can talk about Emily, her funeral, the grief. You can tell me what you can about Pakistan and I’ll tell you about how hard it was when you were gone. Tell me about when you and JJ knew you had to tell the team and I’ll tell you how it felt like I’d had my heart carved out of my chest and put through a blender. Tell me how it felt when I left and I’ll talk about the ways in which I wish I hadn’t but why I felt like I had to. Tell me why I should trust you and I’ll tell you why I want to, but am afraid. Tell me—”

Aaron catches your wrists in his hands and plants a firm kiss upon your lips. You envelope him with your own and revel in the familiar way they meld together, the taste of him like coming home. He pulls away, though his lips still hover over yours. “I promise I will tell you everything and more. We’ll talk until the sun comes up if that’s what it takes.”

You smile and when you speak, your lips brush against his. “I guess I ought to put some coffee on then.”

•

White rays of early morning sunshine break through the sheer curtains, casting soft light across the bed sheets. For the first time in nearly a year, you wake with Aaron’s arm securely around your waist. You breathe in deeply and the faint smell of coffee lingers in the air, two empty mugs leaving brown rings on the nightstand.

You don’t remember when you two had laid down to go to sleep, but remember laughing about it being 3:00 AM at one point and continuing talking in spite of that; and talked you two had. You’d tackled everything from the decision he and JJ made at the hospital all the way up until right now. You laughed and cried, and so did he. You’d never seen Aaron cry before last night, and you were grateful that he’d felt safe enough with you to be vulnerable like that. As the night had worn on, you’d felt the fractured pieces of yourself slowly start to pull together; that you can both heal from this and maybe even come out stronger on the other side.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand and you reach for it, now being as good a time as any to tackle the number of unread texts and unheard voicemails. You can’t avoid them forever.

8 voicemails from Hotch, 2 from JJ, 6, from Penelope, 1 from Derek, and 1 from Emily. Your brow knits together as you view the time stamp next to her voicemail and it’s marked only an hour ago. Why would she have called you so early? Surely, Hotch would’ve let the team know that you’re safe and that he’s with you.

You open the app and press play, bringing the phone to your ear to avoid disturbing Hotch and Emily’s voice fills your head as you listen in.

“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now…” Her voice is tired and her tone is genuinely apologetic. “…I missed everyone so much, but you. It tore me up inside knowing we didn’t get to say goodbye, that I didn’t get to explain to you why all of this had to happen and you had to mourn me. I knew Hotch would take care of you.” She chuckles softly and you picture her shaking her head. “God, that man adores you, you know that right? Knowing he’d be there to help you through things was a small solace, but I knew that the weight of asking him to keep this from you and the rest of the team would take a toll on him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Doyle, he never—he never would’ve stopped hunting me and he would’ve used or killed everyone close to me to do so. If there had been any other way, I would’ve done it.” She sighs heavily. “Anyway, Hotch texted the team and myself last night that he’d gotten to you safely in Virginia Beach. I imagine you and him had a lot to talk about last night. It’s probably going to look like I’m copying a page out of his book, but you’re the only person I haven’t looked in the eye and apologized to, so I’ll be there in about an hour or so. Hopefully, you open the door.”

Your eyes widen as you drop the phone back onto the nightstand. After glancing at the clock and noticing it had been an hour and fifteen minutes since she called, you slip out of bed. Hotch stirs, but doesn’t wake and his hand moves to shift under the pillow and he nestles deeper into the blankets. God, he must be so exhausted. From the red eye flight from Pakistan to immediately leaping into and closing the Ian Doyle case, this is probably the first proper sleep he’s gotten in weeks.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel draws your attention to the living room. You pull on a pair of sweats and throw off the oversized shirt you’d slept in in exchange for a tank top, forgoing a bra in the process. You rush into the bathroom and rapidly brush your teeth, accepting there not being any time to fix your tousled bed head.

Footsteps echo up the walkway on the other side of the front door as you approach and before you can think it through, you throw the door open. You only take a second to confirm that it is in fact Emily on the other side of it before rushing forward and throwing your arms around her.

A loud oomph erupts from lips, the sound muffled as you turn your face into her neck. It takes a few seconds for her to react, her arms slowly folding around you as she realizes that it is in fact a hug that you’re giving her and not an attempt to take her to the ground.

Tears leak from your eyes onto the fabric of her purple top. “I’m sorry,” you murmur into her shoulder.

Emily pulls away, her hands not leaving your shoulders as her brown eyes flicker across your face; her features drawn. “You’re sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. I came here to apologize.”

You shake your head as something between a laugh and a sob bubbles up from your throat. “I’m so mad at you,” you start and reach forward with both hands to clasp her face in yours. “But I am so happy that you’re not dead and I understand why you had to do what you did.” You smile and drop your hands before playfully shoving her. “A bit though, isn’t it? Faking your death and fleeing the country? Where’d you get that idea? Lifetime?”

Emily smiles, flashing her teeth as she inclines her head this way and that. “I did always have a flair for the dramatics.”

The door creaks then and you turn to watch Hotch push the door open. He smiles as he takes in the sight of you and Emily reconciling. “I put on a pot of coffee,” he says. “How many mugs should I bring out?”

You look between him and Emily. “Three,” you answer, turning your attention back to Emily. “Definitely three.”

Emily smiles and follows you inside, greeting Hotch with a short hug before joining you in the living room. As Hotch busies himself in the kitchen and the smell of coffee starts to fill the air, you start to feel like life might finally start to return to normal.

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner comfort #emily prentiss #elle greenaway #bau!reader #bau reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #elle greenaway fanfic #elle greenaway returns #ian doyle #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner drabble #emily prentiss drabble #elle greenaway drabble

[irisinluv]

Yandere Stardew Valley- Sebastian

I've been playing some Yandere Stardew mods recently. While I love them..... I feel like they do my husband (Sebastian) wrong. The citizens of Pelican Town are telling me that they can't hang out with me because Sebstian threatened them. That they've noticed some weird behavior. That he's physically violent. I disagree with all of these for Sebby.

He's our hot programmer boyfriend who lives in his basement bedroom, and only emerges to enjoy a smoke break, or to go see his friends. Now, while again, I do enjoy playing the mods...... I think his cannon behavior sets him up to be the perfect chronically online yandere. Pelican Town isn't exactly the most connected (6 out of the 11 rivals have access to a computer), but there's still potential. Obviously they're gonners if they have a computer. Sam finds himself doxed after making a comment about the gifts you gave him this week, and poor Haley's socials are blowing up with hate comments- from her personal insta to her photography blog.

But what about the other 5? The ones who are more disconnected? Well. It's easy enough to get Shane fired from joja. A little email to Morris from "HQ" saying he either fires Shane or his own pay gets docked..... well. Suddenly, everyone's favorite alcoholic doesn't even have a job anymore. Elliott suddenly has all these taxes he hasn't paid on his little shack..... beachfront properties cost a lot, you know. The parents stop letting Penny watch their kids after some..... explicit photos get leaked. It doesn't matter that they're edited. These people don't know about Photoshop. All they know is apparently Penny's making ends meet to support her mother..... and there's a new favorite subject to gossip on between all the older women. The other rivals are equally taken care of. All you need to focus on now is how Sebastian is the only reliable option in the whole damn town.

And he knows you so well, doesn't he? You, who lived away from it all until now. You, who WAS connected to the internet. Who had their entire life detailed through Facebook updates and Instagram posts. Honestly, Sebastian thinks that maybe he DOESN'T need to leave Pelican town... looking at the life you lived before coming to the valley, he thinks its much easier to keep you safe when he can control everything that goes on. There were too many factors to your old life. Too many parties to go to, coworkers to talk to, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends worry about. No. Sebastian thinks that city life isn't fit for the two of you to start you life together.

While he enjoyed seeing the trip down memory lane of who you were before becoming the farmer, and learning more about your likes and dislikes, he much prefers this version of you. The version of you who he found bouncing on their toes outside his door, excitedly shoving a frozen tear at him. Who eventually became the only person he was genuinely excited to have come barging into his room unannounced. And the thought of moving into the farm with you was all together far too tempting. He can picture it already. He'd set up a little area to work on his bike, he'd help out around the farm for you (he saw your hands covered in scrapes and splinters one day, and you sheepishly told him your fences had started wearing down.... but fixing a fence was another first for you. So you ended up scraping yourself up a bit on the old wood. Now, Sebastain, who, while he doesn't enjoy it, grew up with a carpenter mother..... well. He's going to make sure you never have that many splinters again.) Oh and he can already imagine it. The two of you, far away from the rest of the town, from prying eyes, no one to hear what you two would get up to as he helped you relax after a long day of working the feilds.....

This fantasy would sustain him until you eventually asked him to marry you. I don't think he would rush anything. To you, and the rest of the citizens, he was just normal Sebastian. Showing up for band practice, playing pool at the bar (although he seemed to play much better when a certain farmer came to watch). He just realized that the best way to control all the factors in town would be to remain anonymous. Avoid suspicion. After all. In a small town like that, it would be all too easy to turn against him if he decided to publicly threaten someone. And how would you react if you came to drop off some fresh sashimi to your boyfriend, only to find him being dragged out of his house by Clint, with Marlon standing nearby, ready to ship him off to face justice in the adventurers guild? No. That wouldn't do. He can't add any more stress to you like that. He'd remain the puppeteer, pulling the strings of the valley.

This isn't to say Sebastian never stalks you in person or anything like that. He can't help himself. He's a night owl. He knows the villagers schedules, has since before you even came to town. So, he knows he can get away with digging in the trash to find the straw you threw away at the bar. And if someone does hear him.... well. Linus is going to be everyone's first thought. He does, however, start adopting a stricter routine as far as monitoring your house after you mention how you sell your produce.

Sebastian was rightfully horrified when you explained that Mayor Lewis comes by your farm at night to collect anything you wish to sell. How it's such a relief to be able to just chuck things in the the bin as you're rushing to bed at 1:50 in the morning, only to get up first thing and start your day again, and not have to worry about lugging all your goods to the store. Sebastian won't criticize you for the lack of sleep..... no. That's not what's worrying. What's worrying is that this old man who has a gold statue of himself and who gets it on in the bushes with his secret girlfriend (of course Sebastian knows about that) is showing up to your house sometime after 2 am. His mind flashes back to his fantasy of the two of you, completely alone on the farm.... and then is mortified as this fantasy morphs into a nightmare where he looks up from bed with you, and sees Lewis' wrinkled face peering through the window. Yea. No. Sebastain installs some hidden cameras to make sure Lewis doesn't get up to anything funny while you're defenseless, asleep, alone..... ok he might need to get a new mayor elected. The old man might just have to go. Perhaps to a home outside the town. Regardless, he makes sure Lewis stops coming by as frequently. Frustratingly, he isn't able to completely stop it, but that'll be an easy fix once the two of you are married. He'll act surprised, "wow Lewis, that's so kind of you to help out the farmer all this time. But hey, don't worry, I'll take over. I'm up late anyways, and it's the least I can do!" But Sebastian still wakes up in a cold sweat and frantically rushes to check the cameras, making sure you're OK. That Lewis really is just checking the shipping bin.

Once y'all get married, he shows a bit more of that possessive side to you. But you chalk it up to just bedroom spicy time, and honestly find his hand tightening on your waist as Elliot asks you to read his latest poem hot.

Just. Yandere Sebastian brain rot.

#yandere #yandere stardew valley #yandere blog #yandere imagine #tw yandere #obsessive yandere #stardew valley #yandere sebastian

[baambastic]

Woo Be Upon Ye:

Medieval fantasy TimKon AU where Kon is a half-dragon prince of the realm who elevates commoner Tim to the Royal Guard on a whim. Also has Bart as an apprentice mage, Donna and Cassie as Themiscyran ambassadors, many of Tim’s school friends as Royal Guards, Wildcat as a mentor, the Daily Planet staff as the royal council, and more! Planned as part one of a four-part series.

Bernard Dowd vs. The World:

After hearing Tim’s many, many, many stories about his friends, Bernard realizes that almost all of Tim’s guy friends were hitting on Tim at multiple points. Failing to convince Tim of this, however, Bernard makes it his mission to obtain written testimonies from as many of said friends as he can to support his case. Such friends include Superboy, Danny Temple, Sebastian Ives, Lonnie Machin, and more.

Two for the Price of Them:

In this AU, Tim’s 100th cloning attempt is a success, and so clones of both Kon and Bart are created. Partway through the artificial aging process, however, an agent of N.O.W.H.E.R.E. (overhauled from the same metahuman-abduction organization from the New52) attacks. Tim is forced to go on the run and off the grid with the two clone babies.

The World Didn’t Stand Still:

When Kathy Branden plugs a Phantom Zone Crystal into her teleportal and visits the Phantom Zone, she comes back with a young Krytonian boy, Chris Kent, who claims to be the foster son of Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Effectively taking pre-boot Chris from after his debut story and transporting him into post-Rebirth continuity. Part of a planned trilogy of fics centered on Chris. Guaranteed that they will not end with Chris getting punted into the Phantom Zone for an unknown length of time.

The Dichotomy of Lor-Zod and Chris Kent:

In post-Infinite Frontiers continuity, Lor-Zod begins getting flashes of a life before his own, of a life where he was family to the loathsome Kal-El of the House of El. Lor’s father, Dru-Zod, convince Lor that his affliction must be the machinations of the Justice League’s Martian Manhunter, a psychic attack meant to weaken New Kandor for invasion. Along with Non as a chaperone, Lor-Zod goes on a quest to hunt the Martian Manhunter, though he’s really on the path to restoring his pre-boot history and identity, and all the internal conflict that comes from the contradictions between his two selves. Effectively how I would approach reconciling the current iteration of Lor-Zod with Chris Kent. Guest-starring Martian Manhunter and M’gann M’orzz.

The Cola Caper:

Upon hearing the devastating news that an embargo on the island nation of Santa Prisca will halt the distribution of Zesti Cola in the United States, Dick and Tim go on a mission to infiltrate Santa Prisca and abscond with as much Zesti as they can, and maybe even the secret recipe if they’re lucky.

Stray Little Tiger:

A Billy Batson-centric fic placed in a Stray!Tim Drake AU. Selina Kyle, on her way home from a caper, comes across a lightning-struck boy in an alley. Clearly homeless and in need of help, she decides to take the boy in until he’s healed, though the lightning seems to have severely damaged his vocal cords. She doesn’t know that this boy is Billy Batson, that he’s Captain Marvel, or that there’s something deeply wrong with the Rock of Eternity. This story is told mainly from Selina’s POV, with occasional sidetracks to Tim’s POV, but never Billy’s POV. Identity shenanigans, found family, magic problems, and more.

A Single Word Spoken:

A girl in the shape of a weapon is brought to Fawcett City, where she fulfills her purpose for the first and last time.

The girl who can no longer be a weapon hides from her wielder in an old subway and finds herself transported to a place of great magic.

There, the girl who wishes to be more than she was made to be finds a Wizard, who sees the girl for her heart and not for the blood staining her skin.

The Wizard teaches the girl a name.

Cassandra speaks her first word.

And in so doing, she speaks power.

Also featuring Cass navigating the anachronistic Fawcett City, befriending Billy Batson, codependency issues, an old man who’s also a Bengal tiger, ancient grudges, a different old man who’s barely qualified to give Cass life advice, and more.

Fake it For the Win:

While on a cruise, Tim and Kon decide to fake being married in order to compete on an onboard game show for married couples. When they actually win, though, they have no choice but to keep up the act for the rest of their trip. Fake dating to real dating, with a focus on comedy.

Crossroads of Fate and Eternity:

JLI-era fic with a couple of canon-divergent indulgences. Kent Nelson, helped by Khalid Nassour, decides to take Billy Batson under his wing as a student of the mystic arts. Magic lessons, Tower of Fate and Rock of Eternity shenanigans, Bromfield family stuff, an ancient entity and an ancient demon, philosophy, and other such tidbits.

A Little Ways Along the Family Tree:

When a villain travels through time to the future and accidentally takes Robin with him, Damian Wayne must team up with Mar’i and Jake Grayson to defeat the villain and return Damian to his proper time.

A High-Speed Romantic Tryst on an Open-Water Murder Shack:

When a couple of thugs steal a houseboat belonging to one of Tim’s marina neighbors while he and Bernard are hanging out, the two of them give chase in Tim’s own houseboat. Comedy, crack treated seriously.

#tim drake #red robin #bernard dowd #timber #timkon #kon el kent #kon el #conner kent #chris kent #lor-zod #superboy #dick grayson #martian manhunter #j’onn j’onzz #nightwing #selina kyle #catwoman #billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #cassandra cain #black bat #damian wayne #kathy branden #batman #dc #dc comics #tumblr polls #polls #🐍

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | Epilogue

A quick glimpse into the future.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: tooth rotting sweetness 🫶🏻

I couldn’t end this series without some fluff, come on now. Hopefully Jake lane takes this as a sufficient apology for breaking your hearts for a while 😁 thank you all for being the best, and as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes.

It’s astounding just how much can change in a year and six months. Your home, although decorated the same, was completely rid from the demons of loneliness that once haunted the building. If you looked hard enough, you could see the areas that once appeared empty beginning to fill with memories of love. Pictures hung in expensive frames, small items littered on counters and shelves to remind you that behind the door, it was no longer just your own life contained inside, it was two. Shampoo bottles standing side by side in the shower, two toothbrushes sitting beside the sink, and two coffee mugs always paired together no matter dirty or clean. A Les Paul and an SG always taking post in the living room, illuminated by the sunlight during the day and blanketed with moonlight during the night. A record collection that had doubled in size, and a bed that only ever previously had one messy side was now in constant disarray. Your clothes no longer littered the floors by their lonesome, because there were plenty of button-ups and t-shirts from another wardrobe to keep them company.

In a year and six months, your house was completely different from the one it used to be. It was filled with laughter, light, and a promise of forever. It was something you never thought the world would bless you with, yet it seemed to surprise you more every day. Although more messy, your home was more inviting than it had ever been. You owed it all to one person, and it was not yourself. Jake had made the sorrow excuse for a wooden shack into your most favourite place in the entire world. He had filled up every empty corner with materialistic items, and the rest with his heart to remind you that as long as he was living, you would never need to be alone again.

It was also intriguing to see just how little things changed in the same time period. You thought that after eighteen months of the same thing every day, you might become bored or outgrow the habits you had fallen into, but neither were true. Your heart still sang with joy each morning, and your body still felt the same peace as it did the day he asked you to be his girlfriend. You worried that the happiness would wear off and you would find yourself stuck in the misery you had been so familiar with your entire life, yet it never made a return. As much as you feared change that might come, it was only proven further with every day that passed that the rest of your life was destined to be just as it was; happy, comfortable, and prosperous. You were eternally grateful for the stability, and you hoped to live in the bubble of elation for the rest of your days.

After the tour came to an end, you all packed up your things with worry about the future. Gold Dust Woman as a band had no plans, yet a following that was steadily growing larger as time went on. Greta Van Fleet was large in their popularity, destined for more fame without a doubt about it. With a new relationship, you feared that distance might add a pressure to your life that you were not equipped to handle, but when the homecoming plane landed, it only took a few moments to decide that Jake would be moving in with you. There was not a hesitation in the process, and it comforted you to know that even if he was gone, he was still all around you.

Finding inspiration in your own leap of faith, Danny and Dylan followed your footsteps not too long after. With your personal lives settled, you thought that as a next step, recording music would be your newest and most exciting adventure. You were not wrong in assuming so, and within the first six months, you had ten songs prepared and awaiting for your first ever EP as a band. You were picked up by a label in no time, and the producing process began. It was a tedious time of relentless marketing and interviews, including a few more gigs for short tours as an opening act for other bands. Now, with the PR out of the way and a team of your own, you were anxiously awaiting the arrival of your very first physical copy of your own record.

Midway through your journey with touring, you had taken a small break to come home and spend time with Jake before he left for his own tour. During your visit, you were pleased to find out that Sam had met someone who turned his world upside down. You were lucky enough to meet her and discover that she was everything he had ever dreamed of, and he was happier than you had ever seen him before. Thus began your quick work at repairing your friendship, finding it incredibly easy to open yourselves back up to each other and return to what you used to be before the brothers relentless conquest for your heart. The world seemed perfect, and although the hurt you experienced during the battle was debilitating, the damage was minimal compared to the prosperity of the future. The scars were white, long gone from memory and replaced by stretch marks that formed from being so full of love and happiness.

You had always been the type to gag at the thought of a fairytale ending, yet now that you were living amidst one, you could finally understand why so many people craved it so desperately. You could not imagine returning to the lifestyle you lived before Jake, because it all seemed bleak and depressing. Constantly searching for a thrill, never having the nerve to speak your truth, never knowing where you were going or where you would end up. It was sickening to recall, and even on your hardest days, or when you went weeks without being able to touch him, your life with Jake was beyond anything you had ever felt or lived before. He was your forever, and your only worry was that you didn’t have enough time in one lifespan to love him. You worried that there wasn’t enough time in the entire universe to love Jake the way he deserved, but you tried your hardest to be the best you could be for him, because god knows he was doing it for you.

You were sat on the couch of your living room, pondering over the empty space that seemed to be growing larger by the day. Jake’s SG was long gone from its stand, and had been for weeks. He was travelling the world and doing what he loved, and you were so happy for him, yet it did not take away from the fact that you missed him terribly. Each day it seemed like the minutes passed slower, and you were counting every second until he walked through the front door. You only had a few more days to go, but you were beginning to believe you wouldn’t survive it. Phone calls and texts only went so far, and you missed his company more than you cared to admit.

A show was playing softly on the television, but you were no longer invested in the screen. You were writing in your journal, hoping to finish some lyrics for a new song you had started. There was an incense smouldering away on the windowsill, the smoke sending a peaceful haze across the room and leaving a calming aroma in the air. The sun was twinkling through the windows, wrapping around the blinds you had pulled across and sending rays through the emptiness of the room. It was cozy, comfortable, yet seemed to be missing something. You knew that feeling would flee as soon as Jake was back home and sitting on the couch beside you. Your coffee cup beside you was spewing pathetic spurts of steam, long forgotten in your mind and destined to be remembered once it was too cold to enjoy.

You snapped from your thoughts, hearing the door open and keys jingling softly. You figured it must be Dylan; she had a spare key and used it quite often when both of your boyfriends were gone off on tour. The loss of constant companionship was made easier with a best friend like her, because she was always willing to help pass the time. Whether it was playing music, or going for brunch, or even just existing together, she was always down for it. She had taken Danny’s place in the routine Sunday Brunches when he was unable to make it, and you weren’t shy in admitting that she did a great job at making them just as fun. Sometimes, when the boys were free from work, the four of you would go together and fill the afternoon with casual drinks and laughter. No matter what, you were constantly surrounded with family, and it was more fantastic than you ever imagined it to be. Sometimes, chosen family was far beyond anything blood relatives could provide, and they outweighed every expectation that you had. You had no idea where you would be without them.

You stood, figuring you could be kind enough to greet her at the door. When you rounded the corner into the kitchen and stepped into the hallway, your heart nearly exploded straight from your chest. At the front door, with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a box in the other, Jake was standing alone, surrounded with breathtaking beauty as always. He looked up at you, a blinding smile taking over his face, letting you know he was just as excited to see you. “Surprise.” He whispered, kicking his shoes off and walking to meet you. You took off in a sprint, too excited to care about your childish behaviour, and nearly tackled him with the strength in which you hugged him. He laughed, wrapping his arms around you as best he could with the items in his hands. “I missed you, angel.” He placed a kiss to your head, savouring the sweetness for as long as he could.

“What are you doing home so early?” You asked, although the words came out quite muffled due to your face being buried in his chest. The familiar scent was overpowering, holding you captive and intoxicating you immediately. Sandalwood, but it was no longer laced with the implications of sin; it was home, and it was the most sacred of all.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.” He admitted, drawing back from you only slightly. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m so glad I did, because something came in the mail.” He grinned, reminding you of the box he was holding in his hand.

“Is that what I think it is?” Your eyes were glistening with excitement, knowing that he was wondering the same thing.

“Let’s find out.” He said, nodding his head down the hallway. Together, you walked into the kitchen and he set the package on the table. He let his bag drop to the ground before he went off in search of a vase for the flowers.

“I can do that,” you offered, practically vibrating at the thought of what was inside the box. He shook his head, reaching into a cupboard and grabbing the item he had been looking for. He filled it with water, carefully removing the flowers from the brown paper wrapping and setting them inside. He placed them on the table before kissing you on top of the head.

“Are you gonna open it?” He asked, looking down at your nervous hands settled on top of the package.

“I’m scared.” You chuckled, trying to stop the tremors in your fingers.

“Don’t be.” He said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. “We’ll do it together.”

“Yeah, together.” You nodded, picking up the box and slowly pulling back the tape. You balled it up, tossing it down on the table as you opened up the flaps. On top of a mound of bubble wrap sat a card. You pulled it out, looking inside all while feeling like you could throw up. You read over the words written inside, feeling the anxiety morph into excitement. “That’s sweet.” You smiled, setting the card by the flowers. It was a note of congratulations from your label, making sure you were well informed of the huge milestone you had achieved. You slowly picked out the bubble wrap, setting it to the side while drawing in a long breath.

Your gaze fell over the cover of the vinyl record, immediately prompting tears in your eyes. You took a step back, letting out a shaky laugh as you dried your eyes. Jake looked back at you, more proud than he had ever been in his entire life. “You did that, sweetheart.” He said, unable to contain his own excitement. You could hear his tone wavering as he tried to hold back his own tears, only sending you spiralling even further. He pulled you into another hug, allowing you to air out your surge of emotions.

After a moment, you reached into the box and pulled it out. The cover was gold, shimmering under the sunlight flowing in from the windows. ‘Gold Dust Woman’ was embossed on the surface in pitch black lettering, standing out from the background. You flipped it over, looking over the track list. At the very bottom in small print, you could see the production rights trademarked by your company. “That’s me,” you squeaked, pointing at your name alongside Dylan and Riley’s. “That’s my name.”

“It is,” he laughed, leaning in to get a closer look at it. “I’m so proud of you, y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, pulling the record from the sleeve to cement the reality of the situation. “I couldn’t have done it without you, baby.” He let out a scoff, shaking his head at your statement.

“You can do anything you put your mind to, sweetheart. All I do is cheer you on.” You looked up at him, love surrounding the two of you as hearts danced in your eyes. You leaned up, almost forgetting the record in your hand while you were in his company. There was nothing quite as captivating as Jake, and he seemed to outshine everything else. You kissed him, pouring all of your emotion into him and telling him all you needed to just from the small action.

“I’m so happy you’re home.” You mumbled against his lips. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m happy to be home.” He said, smiling against you as he kissed you again. It seemed like the two of you could never get enough of each other, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Now, are you going to listen to it, or what?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, looking back to the album in your hand. “In a minute.”

“Go, I’ll be right here when you come back.” He chuckled at your unwillingness to leave.

“Trying to get rid of me?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Never,” he said, his tone telling you that his statement was final and not up for debate.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” You said, rushing off to the living room. You carefully placed the record down on the couch, removing the vinyl that was sitting on the player and placing it back in the proper sleeve. You took out your own, gently placing it down and then putting the needle on the surface. You turned the volume up and the television off, waiting for a moment while the static turned into music. You heard a clear drum beat fill the air before your guitar joined in, followed by a clear bass line. You were thrilled, the sound better than you ever imagined it could be. You couldn’t believe that it was really your song playing over the speaker, but it was real, and it was the most exhilarating feeling you had ever experienced. “Jake, do you hear this!?” You shouted, cheeks aching from the permanent smile stuck on your face.

“I hear it, angel.” He replied, but he sounded occupied with something else. “I almost forgot, I have something else for you.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused at what else he could possibly have for you. “Come here for a minute.”

“Okay,” you said, confusion evident in your tone. You made your way back to the kitchen, a bubble of anxiety rising in your stomach. He sounded distant, nervous almost as he called out to you. You had never known Jake to be anything less than self-assured even when he was wrong, and you were curious about what was so heavy on his mind that it changed his normal routine. When you first entered the room, you didn’t see him straight away.

You were confused at his whereabouts, knowing that his voice had been coming from the kitchen, yet you didn’t see him standing in his previous spot. You walked around the table, freezing in your tracks almost immediately. Your eyes went wide as your heart dramatically thudded against your rib cage. Jake was on one knee, hands shaking as he held a small velvet box in his hands. “Oh, god, Jake.” You breathed, bringing your hand over your chest to sooth your erratic heartbeat.

“That doesn’t sound very good.” He gave a nervous chuckle, just as scared as you were about the whole thing.

“No!” You shook your head, easing his mind before he descended too far into his own thoughts. “Not like that, just… wow.”

“I was going to wait, but I couldn’t. I don’t want to wait anymore, y/n.” He spoke so softly that his voice barely broke through the air. “I’ve known since the day I met you, so I don’t see a point in putting it off. I want to spend forever with you, if you want it, too. You are my whole heart, the reason I can get out of bed in the morning and the only thing that helps me sleep through the night. You’re my best friend, the absolute love of my life, and I can’t think of a single reason why I wouldn’t want to be yours forever.” He said, watching your face carefully in case there was any chance you didn’t want what he was offering. “I don’t want to sit and watch while the rest of our lives pass us by. It would be the greatest honour to marry you, Gold Dust Woman.”

You took a step towards him, cautious for no real reason. Part of you believed that it was a figment of your imagination, because his love often seemed too good to be true. You thought over his words, only feeling your heart swell with more affection the longer you remembered. He was right, and there was no reason in the world as to why you should be afraid of saying yes. He was your forever, and you’d known that long before you ever admitted it to yourself. He loved you like no other, so well that sometimes you forgot what it was like before he came along. Your life was picturesque with him by your side, something you had only ever heard about in movies and books, yet it was your reality that you were lucky enough to live every single day. He was everything, and you were beyond grateful to even exist in the same universe as him.

You realized your silence had given the wrong impression, noticing the shift in his expression as he began to turn worried. “Yes, Jake.” You said, hoping to ease his mind. “A million times yes.” You said, moving forward and kneeling down in front of him. “I can’t think of a better way to spend my life, and there is nobody that could make me as happy as you do.” You said, grabbing his face gently between your hands. You pulled him into a kiss filled with love and warmth, just like the rest of your memories with him. You could barely keep the kiss alive, the smiles on your faces too much to handle. When you pulled away, he took the ring from the box and slipped it on your finger, trying his hardest to hold back his tears of elation. “It’s beautiful,” you fawned over the sight, taking in every detail the ring had to offer.

“But it doesn’t hold a candle to you, angel.” He said, looking back up at your face. “I promise I’m going to love you like you deserve until the day I die, and I’m sure that I’ll still love you the same even long after I’m gone. In every universe, and every lifetime. You’re the only thing my heart knows, Gold Dust Woman.”

“Me too, baby.” You promised, feeling your lip quiver from the profound confession. “So, this is forever?”

“Seems like it.” He laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can’t get rid of me, now.”

“Not like I ever could before.” You teased, running your thumb over the soft skin of his cheek. “And it’s not like I ever wanted to, anyway.” And it was the truth; not a day passed in which you wished to change a thing, because a lifetime of loving Jake was better than anything you had ever dreamed of.

The End

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @profitofthedune

#gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #jake gvf #sam gvf #danny wagner #gvf fic #josh gvf #danny gvf #gold dust woman #gdw #jake kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka series #jake kiszka gvf #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #sam kiszka x y/n #sam kiszka series #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka blurb #daniel gvf #sammy gvf #builtbybrokenbells

[bellaireland1981]

1k Celebration! Summer Pool Party Playlist

Details: 

I just hit 1000 followers!!! THANK YOU!!!! This is truly mind blowing and humbling and I am eternally grateful to all of you who follow, read my stories, interact and just like to geek out over these Top Gun hotties with me! I cannot even thank you enough for all of your support and encouragement. I have met so many incredible people on Tumblr and in this fandom. I know we recently hit some dark days but even in the not so great times, it’s important to remember that there are still awesome people here and it’s not all dark days. SO…. to celebrate this milestone and to hopefully bring back some fun, happy, bright, and sunny days…. I am hosting a Summer Pool Party Writing Challenge! Let’s kick off summer with our favorite aviators! 

Rules:

You can sign up for as many Songs as you’d like! 

Message me with your song choice and who you’re writing for!- I will update the list so everyone knows what’s still available! 

18+ Only! Minors DNI

You can submit for a series, one shots, mood boards, drabbles, etc… The point is to HAVE FUN!

Must be appropriately labeled (Smut, Angst, warnings, Fluff….etc)

HAS to include SONG in some shape or form (i.e. in the title, included in the story, lyrics in the story, etc.) 

General:

Your creations are due by July 31, 2024! Tag me @bellaireland1981 and #1kPoolPartyPlaylist  in your work so that I add your link to the Challenge Page! 

Playlist: (Note: If you have another summer/pool party themed song in mind that isn’t on the list– message me! We can add it)

Walking on Sunshine- Katrina & The Waves

Margaritaville- Jimmy Buffet

Dance the Night- Dua Lipa

I Don’t Want This Night to End- Luke Bryan

Summer- Calvin Harris

Party in the USA- Miley Cyrus

I Wanna Dance With Somebody- Whitney Houston

One Margarita- Luke Bryan

Southbound- Carrie Underwood

I Ain’t Worried- OneRepublic

The Sound of Sunshine Going Down- Michael Frani and Spearhead

Made You Look- Meghan Trainer

Summer Days- Martin Garrix - ( @bellaireland1981 - Bradley x Reader)

Shut up and Dance- Walk the Moon

Summer Love- Justin Timberlake

I Was Made for Loving You- Oliver Heldens

Can’t Stop This Feeling- Justin Timberlake

Let’s Get Loud- Jennifer Lopez

Addicted to You- Shakira

1999- Prince

House Party- Sam Hunt

Hot Stuff- Donna Summer

Good Vibrations- Beach Boys

Love Shack- B52’s

Cake by the Ocean- DNCE

Sweet Home Alabama- Lynyrd Skynyrd

Dancing Queen- ABBA

Heat Waves- Glass Animals

Toes- Zac Brown Band

Summer Girls- LFO

Under the Boardwalk- The Drifters

California Gurls- Katy Perry - ( @startrekfangirl2233 Phoenix x Reader)

Kokomo- The Beach Boys

Watermelon Sugar- Harry Styles

Cruel Summer- Taylor Swift

Hot Fun in the Summertime- Sly and the Family Stone

Summertime Blues- Alan Jackson

(Sittin’ on) The Dock of the Bay- Otis Redding

Summer in the City- The Lovin’ Spoonful

Hot in Here- Nelly

When the Sun Goes Down- Kenny Chesney and Uncle Cracker

I Don't Know About You- Chris Lane

Let's Have a Pool Party!!!!!!

#1kPoolPartyPlaylist #bellaireland writes #top gun fanfiction #miles teller #glen powell #jake hangman seresin

[sapphic-scylla]

Everything Wrong with the Bigotry Wizard Series (HP) Because This Transfem Feels Like Throwing Hands

(Yes, I grew up with this shit and I know these books back and forth. It’s knowledge I really wish I could forget, but if it’s in there, I might as well use it for a good cause. And that good cause is rallying people against its terribly bigoted and racist author. Also, know that this is a way of weeding out followers and potentially hateful people so I never have to see them again, so choose wisely if you intend to argue these points.)

House choices are split between Bravery, Ambition, Smart, and Everyone Else, which is Tracking and is very ineffective as a teaching system and also forcing kids into a lane. These houses compete every year for who’s better at what? Following orders? Being obedient? Which is a system HIGHLY susceptible to bias and imbalanced competition considering Snape’s unfair treatment of every house that isn’t his and the overwhelmingly unfair come-from-behind victory the Hero house had at the end of their first year because they what? Saved the world?! What kind of precedent are you setting by saying you can win in school by being a hero when there is a house based on bravery? Favoritism anyone?

No one in an entire castle has ever questioned their gender or discovered their sexual orientation? Not the twins? Or Hermione? Or Tonks? Wild. (And no, I do not count JK’s off-the-cuff tweets “clarifying lore”. If it was actually true, you would fully and unabashedly address it in the books, ya bigot.)

Ah yes, rumors of a haunted house out in a village on school grounds when actual fucking ghosts wander the halls of the school, a poltergeist is constantly causing mayhem, a sad girl haunts the girls bathroom, and a LIVE FUCKING BASILISK SITS IN THE SEWAGE SYSTEM. And those sounds in the Shrieking Shack were the product of a kid sent there because he was dealing with lycanthropy. Yeah, sounds like a healthy way to deal with a kid with a physical disability…

Wizards in EVERY OTHER part of fantasy are thousands of years ahead of everyone else. Yudala in Critical Role was investigating pocket planes, the Astral Sea, and OTHER WIZARDS THAT WERE HUNDREDS OF YEARS AHEAD OF SOCIETY ALREADY. Essek was attempting to understand his own society’s god and had cracked the secrets behind TIME AND GRAVITY MAGIC. Caleb Widogast was a transmutation master and had, not only helped Essek discover the secrets of time travel, but had the ability to alter LIFE AND DEATH. Ayda Aguefort’s library was an educational beacon in a pirate town where people refused to learn to read and was creating new spells for herself and her friends. HP wizards live like they just discovered indoor plumbing and don’t know how cars work even though they already have time travel down. WHAT?! The MOST inconsistent.

Magic system. Everyone has unlimited free access to just three phrases that can control, torture, or kill people?!? And they teach that? To students???? in MIDDLE SCHOOL?!?! WHERE THERE ARE PEOPLE THAT ARE SORTED INTO A HOUSE BRANDED AS AMBITIOUS?!?!!! Bud, D&D spells are CONTROLLED SUBSTANCES. And not only that, but spells like Power Word: Kill and True Resurrection are both 9th level spells and require not only the physical knowledge of the spell, but YEARS, even DECADES of practice for normal people to learn. Even Dominate Person is 5th level and a solid overwhelming majority of the population doesn’t even know the Friends cantrip. And most people aren’t adventuring murder hobos that go on adventures for months on end to level up super fast to get to 17th level to learn 9th level spells mechanically.

Voldemort would get fucking merked by a full line of people with firearms. Dude couldn’t even take over a school of middle schoolers without working at it for 6 years.

Did they not have therapists in Hogwarts? Pretty sure everyone at that school could have used a trained therapist or a guidance counselor with a degree.

We make jokes, but they did not have access to contraceptives. And they had High Schoolers in a giant think tank sleeping in the SAME TOWER. If you think there weren’t unplanned pregnancies in that giant bowl of hormones, you’re crazy.

The hero and his friends standing up for the giant on the school grounds? Hermione being the only one standing up for the house elves? Common courtesy isn’t a heroic trait. That’s why it’s called COMMON courtesy. And why include house elves anyway? Slavery and writing house elves as “wanting to be enslaved” IS A SHITTY MESSAGE TO PUT OUT INTO THE WORLD.

The very obvious racist naming scheme JK shamelessly put forward: Kingsley Shacklebolt (Black Character), Cho Chang (Asian Character), Parvati and Padma Patil (Middle Eastern Characters), Dean Thomas (Black Character), Seamus Finnegan (Irish Character), Fleur Delacour (French Character), and more.

Lycanthropy was confirmed by JK herself to be about HIV/AIDS, which makes how they treated Remus Lupin (another terrible name) even worse.

Rita Skeeter was a character she created to resemble and, as such, harmfully and falsely stereotype and misrepresent transpeople and how she perceives them to be. She makes an active point to describe her as unattractive, having manly features, and in the fashion similar to that of a drag queen. She also spares no expense describing her as duplicitous, dishonest, and having a habit of “changing her body to spy on children”. Even her name insinuates she’s a mosquito. And that’s not even mentioning her actual trans character in the video game, Sirona Ryan. Sir(obvious) ona(woman in Japanese). You named her Sir Woman Ryan. You fucking cunts.

Goblins. Here we go. One of the most obvious problems. Described in book as being greedy, short, intelligent, hook-nosed debt collectors that wear special hats and run all of the banks and speak their own language. And as of the most recent video game, apparently also steal children. Sounds like an awfully racist and stereotypical description of what the hateful side of the world perceives Jews to be.

Even the heroes are perpetually being shallow, reductive, and downright awful people on a regular basis. Basing people on looks, degrading a female character for standing up for mistreated people, judging people based on how quirky, different, or off normal they are. All things that really fall in basic decency if you really think about it.

Attempting a redemption arc for the Dursleys, the Malfoys, and Snape, all parties being aggressively and shamelessly abusive characters for YEARS. Dursleys sticking the MC in a closet to live, refusing him food, shutting him in from the outside world, and generally just treating him with a truly overwhelming amount of disdain IS CHILD ABUSE. Attempting to bring any measure of redemption to their relationship after 14 years of that is irreproachable and irresponsible. Snape berates, abuses, and treats the MC like shit for years because he loves the MC’s dead mother, kills one of the MC’s main mentors, and then when the MC finds all of that out, he names his kid after the guy? Nice message, bruh. And I really shouldn’t have to explain the Malfoys.

The truly insane amount of coincidences and favoritism that stems from a kid’s relatives, pure dumb fucking luck, and a life experience that just happened by chance is fucking uncanny. The world thinks its story is about love and friendship and some shit, but continues to reinforce the ideal that this kid is special because of his mother and father and all of the things that he is capable of to defend against his mortal enemy stems from that. He corrodes Quirrell’s face, he blocks a death spell with a spiritual aura that summons the ghosts of the dead, he summons a patronus that was his dad’s, the wand he picks up from the store is just NATURALLY bitter rivals with his enemy’s, a magical cup just so HAPPENS to ignore its primary function ONE FUCKING TIME to allow for the MC, A PROPHECY mentions this fucking kid and the book even tries to bring in the forcibly branded Kicked Dog™ character that none of us gave a second thought to.

Quidditch is a truly stupid fucking sport. Who wrote the rules? Let me get this correct. Seven players on each team play on a field on brooms where two ANIMATED STEEL BALLS THAT BY THEMSELVES COULD SHATTER BONE AND CAUSE DEEPLY TRAUMATIC INJURY ACTIVELY HUNT PLAYERS while people play a rousing game of handball only two have one player on each team, completely separate from everyone else, are playing the world’s most difficult game of I Spy with a ball that truly would be the hardest thing in the world to see, no matter the lighting, and if they do somehow manage to catch this sentient ball that could really just leave if it wanted to, it counts for like 9x the usual points, usually rendering the entire rest of the game invalid or forcing the other team to be so far ahead that it doesn’t even matter. Nightmarish.

Harry pretending to dose Ron’s drink to improve his performance puts forward a terrible message of “as long as it’s to help, it’s ok to dose someone’s drink with suspicious liquid”. Even if he didn’t do it, you gotta understand how that looks, right?

The ethics of love potions in society in general are incredibly loose in the books for what they should be (especially considering a student actually dosed cupcakes with them at either age 14 or 15? Either way, it’s INCREDIBLY disgusting) and the fact that they actually taught love potions to a group of middle to high schoolers and put the ability to bypass consent in their hormonal claws should go incredibly high on the shelf with death spells, torture spells, and absolute control “bend your will to my own” spells and that entire shelf should be locked away in a safe and never touched.

You’re not supposed to go into the Forbidden Forest except on the occasion that we send you as 11-year-olds in there as punishment for wrongdoing.

There’s just a tree on the grounds that can fucking kill people. And one of our founders left a snake that can petrify and poison people in the pipes. We’re also going to let hell creatures that feed on the misery and woe of the living roam the school grounds for a year hunting a prisoner that really didn’t do anything. We’re also going to bring back a tournament people have died in so that three seventeen-year-olds and a fourteen year old can compete.

If there is any more things I missed, please don’t hesitate to add them in the reblogs. I really would like to know how much more problematic behavior and how many truly distasteful writing choices I’m missing in this extensive list.

#fuck jkr #fuck hp #rot in hell Jk Rowling #fuck terfs

[shatterinseconds]

Garrison

Klance AU month ‘23 day 3

“I can’t believe we’re back here,” Lance comments as he and Keith stroll the halls of the Garrison.

Not much has changed in the years since they’ve been gone. The paint is still a cold white, the floor gray. Teachers’ names on the doors might be the only difference in the building but even then, Lance catches sight of a few familiar ones—some he remembers hating with a passion and others who tolerated his boisterous energy.

He and Keith are only back here now because they’re getting married in a few days, and while most of the wedding preparations have been completed ahead of schedule thanks to the combined efforts of his mother, Allura, and Hunk, they decided to take a trip down memory lane. Tomorrow, when they have more daylight, they’ll journey to Keith’s desert shack to see what’s happened to it, if anything is salvageable. Keith is hoping to repair it enough to try to sell it since he won’t be needing it anymore. Lance tried to persuade him to keep it, if he really wants to; they don’t need the money right now. But Keith had been adamant, admitting he wanted to have some money set aside for when they would need a permanent residence on Earth when they’re done with their space adventures. Lance may have cried a little at that.

Keith slips his arm around Lance’s waist when they turn another corner. They have one destination in mind right now and are currently trying to remember where the access to the roof is. “Yeah, it’s crazy to think I always had a crush on you,” Keith says lightly, almost chuckling to himself.

Lance stops short. Caught off guard, Keith stumbles back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Keith says, mock glaring, and not daring to repeat what he said again. Which is okay because Lance definitely heard it; how could he not?

Still, Lance’s brows furrow while he tries to pick at Keith’s words. “You didn’t even know who I was when we met again while rescuing Shiro. Sorry for not believing you.”

“I knew who you were…” Keith says, trailing off. His gaze drifts off of Lance while mumbling, “I just didn’t know your real name.” He starts to walk away from Lance, as if avoiding the conversation they have to have now, but Lance catches the sudden determined look on Keith’s face. He must have finally remembered something. 

“What!?” Lance exclaims, utterly flabbergasted. He chases after Keith. “I never went by any nickname or anything. Well there was the self proclaimed—”

“Taylor. I thought your name was Taylor,” Keith admits, cutting him off. Well, that is… unexpected. Lance almost laughs, cheeks already hurting at how much he smiles. 

They’ve stopped at a large metal door towards the end of the last hall, a thin window showing the existence of a ladder inside. They’ve found the place. Exclaiming a quick ‘aha!’ under his breath, Keith manages to bypass the control panel lock to the door leading to the roof. The sign on the door says officers only; Lance never took heed of the sign when he was younger and he definitely won’t now.

Lance smirks, humming happily. “Good to know that title really did get around even if it was misinterpreted.” He starts to climb up the ladder after Keith, practically staring at Keith’s butt the entire time. It’s not like he has anywhere else to look. “But I’m a little insulted. I don’t look like a Taylor.” 

Keith rolls his eyes. He grabs onto Lance’s hand as he climbs up the last few rungs and steps onto the flat roof. “How will I ever make it up to you?”

This high up, the desert wind starts to whip around them. Lance cards a hand through his hair to push it off his forehead for a moment. A bit of darkness has already started to descend upon them, the night sky peeking through as the oranges and pinks fade away. How he’s missed this. Of all the planets he’s traveled to and all the sunsets he’s witnessed, Earth’s have remained the most beautiful. He arches his head back to breathe it all in before he turns to Keith with another sharp grin, eyes sparkling. 

“I just have to figure out a way to slip that anecdote into Shiro’s best man speech and we’ll be all set.” With his hand still holding Keith’s, he thumbs the engagement ring on Keith’s finger; a matching one rests on Lance’s own. They had proposed to each other at the same time—well, Lance was technically first—only a few months ago but neither of them wanted a long engagement.

“Wonderful,” Keith says dryly. “But I’m pretty sure half of our guests won’t understand it.”

Lance waves off his concerns and guides Keith down to sit with him on the rather uncomfortable roof. Leaning into Keith, he says, “Pidge and Hunk will love it. So don’t worry, it won’t go to waste.”

Keith presses his nose into Lance’s cheek. With the wind, Keith’s hair tickles his face when it blows around them. “I’m so glad,” he mutters into Lance’s skin. Lance turns until he captures Keith’s mouth with his own as his hand moves to cup Keith’s face.

And they watch the sunset together, like they did so many years ago.

#klance #voltron #klance au month #vld #voltron legendary defender #klance fic #keith x lance #my writing

[saintsenara]

the shack at the end of the lane merope gaunt & lord voldemort general | 4.2k words

before the world went black, she was looking at two women's faces, and a small creature covered in blood, and the cracked plaster ceiling of a london orphanage.

when she opened her eyes, she was looking up at a perfect sky, its celestial blue splashed with cotton-wool clouds. the sun shone warm on her skin. she felt at peace for the first time since september, when tom had stormed out of their knockturn alley bedsit, taking care to kick her in the stomach as he did.

it was an unconventional choice, on the part of the universe, to make tom riddle's victims meet his mother the moment they arrived in the afterlife.

this piece was written for week five of @ladiesofhpfest, on the theme of unconventional and unashamed [you can find the masterlist for this week's fics here].

its star is a character who has fascinated me for a long time - merope gaunt - and the question i have always wondered about: what happened to her after she died?

author's notes under the cut

because merope’s death is one of the moments of the harry potter series that i’ve always loathed - not because it happens, but because it is explained by dumbledore in half-blood prince as something which happens as the result of a lack of courage:

"In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life." "She wouldn’t even stay alive for her son?" [...] "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death in spite of a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She was greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother’s courage."

i really dislike the suggestion that - under ordinary circumstances - a witch would be able to prevent herself dying in childbirth because of her magic, not least because of the implication in this statement - which is very much not what the series thinks it’s saying - that magical and muggle women are, essentially, separate species.

as merope tells us in the shack at the end of the lane, she died "like a woman" - one of the hundreds of thousands of women throughout human history who have died in childbirth for no other reason than that childbirth is dangerous. these women were not weak, they were not hopeless, they were not cruel to their children, they will have wanted to live. they were just profoundly unlucky.

and so, crucially, the merope of this story wanted to live for her son. it just wasn’t as easy as all that.

after her death, she wakes up in a place she had hoped she’d left behind her for good: little hangleton. the self-creating afterlife of the harry potter series is simultaneously comforting and whimsical and totally horrifying if one stops to think too long about it. in particular, if one stops to think about what it would mean for people whose life experience has made it difficult for them to have an imagination or to remember things or places which are pleasant to them.

merope is one of these people - not even able to imagine preston, one of the most ordinary towns in britain, as anything other than "formless white light", let alone paris or rome - and she therefore ends up stuck in a house which must have been a sight of extreme misery for her while she was alive. after all, the implication of canon is very much that she was or would be a victim of incestuous sexual violence at her father and brother’s hands. she is definitely a victim of physical and verbal violence. there can be no way at all that she felt happy in the gaunts’ home - and her experience is made all the more horrifying by the fact that - as i’ve noted in the notes for the snow child, another merope-centric piece - little hangleton more broadly is quite a terrifying place. the village lends itself really well to a sort of folk-horror vibe - perfect and bucolic and too quiet, with darkness lurking underneath its picturesque veneer.

but i wanted to play with this a little - and show how a place merope felt unwelcome in life becomes a home to her in death. the shack moves from being a liminal space into being a solid one: merope makes it into the space she wants, warm and colourful, and she bars morfin from it; it ceases to be a practical space - with a flower garden replacing a vegetable one - as soon as she can acknowledge that her existence is no longer purely about survival or service [for example, when she sleeps in a bed, instead of on the floor like a house elf]; the elements of folklore which were scary in the snow child become neutral here. the blackthorn trees, in particular, spend that story being symbols of ill-omen. in the shack at the end of the lane, in contrast, they should be read as having their second folkloric purpose - protection. [the magpies - one for sorrow, four for a boy - have no happier meaning.]

merope also learns to be happy more generally. the canon narrative tends to take quite a dim view of covetousness - a trait, after all, which gets her into this mess in the first place - not least in the way that it describes lord voldemort’s magpieishness. here, we see that this preference for trivial comforts is inherited, and that taking pleasure in things - such as merope’s shawl, her golden earrings, and the presents she buys for her son in the town - is neither wicked nor sad. sometimes a shawl is a shawl. sometimes it’s a burst of transformative pleasure.

and this idea of things changing ties into a wider theme in the piece - that merope proves herself to be capable of acceptance and redemption. her vicious jealousy of cecilia - tom riddle sr.’s attractive girlfriend - is a central part of the snow child, but here we see her coming to understand how that jealousy was futile, and resolving to manage with the body she has. her rape of tom sr. is a great evil - which, as we see, he’s never managed to get over - but there is a reckoning here as she realises that he was a victim of her instead of the other way round, and as she resists the urge to stroke his hair [as black as the raven’s wing, as she wishes for in the snow child] before she sends him off to a happy place where she cannot follow him. by the time albus dumbledore arrives to see her, she has accepted that tom was never really hers, and is confused when he insists on addressing her as "mrs riddle".

she also finds herself accepting - eventually - her son.

lord voldemort’s grief over merope is one of the most interesting parts of his characterisation, and one which the canon text touches on only lightly [harry notices, for example, that he is furious when hepzibah smith insults merope by implying she stole slytherin’s locket, but he then doesn’t contradict dumbledore when he says that hepzibah’s murder was motivated by gain]. merope’s absence in voldemort’s life manifests itself most clearly in the shack at the end of the lane in her encounter with bellatrix lestrange - as bellatrix tells her daughter’s grandmother that she likes the name merope, unaware that voldemort could never have suggested it to her because all of the evidence of canon is that he has no idea what his mother was called. it also features in the scene with the two dinners, in which the earth-bound tom riddle jr. has finally accepted that his father isn’t a wizard, and has begun his investigation into his maternal line - which will eventually cause him to leave the orphanage for good, sending his childhood room into the ether to await him when he dies. [my headcanon has always been that his limbo is the orphanage - so he has to have it here even though he’ll be living with his mam for eternity.]

merope takes a long time to cotton on to the fact that her son is a murderer - which i don’t think we can really blame her for; it’s quite an overwhelming concept. the dead we meet are both direct and indirect victims of his violence: the rabbit; amy benson [who died by suicide]; myrtle [my favourite]; tom sr.; hepzibah smith; a family of albanian peasants; mrs cole [worn down by dealing with tom]; regulus black; morfin [who wasted away in prison panicking about his father’s stolen ring]; james and lily potter; bertha jorkins; frank bryce [returning to the riddle house, where he was happy]; cedric diggory; barty crouch jr.; sirius black; igor karkaroff; dumbledore [who is kind enough to lie to merope, just for a bit]; colin creevey; lavender brown [in her glittery trainers]; vincent crabbe; fred weasley; severus snape; harry potter [but only temporarily]; nymphadora tonks and remus lupin; bellatrix; and - of course - voldemort himself.

and he’d been waiting a long time for that meeting.

and, look, i’m a hopeless optimist. i think everything will be alright in the end.

#asenora fics #merope gaunt #the shack at the end of the lane #let us contemplate death #lord voldemort #ascending to his final form: mammy's boy #dumbledore being subtle for once in his life #ladies of hp fest

[ladiesofhpfest]

The Shack at the End of the Lane by @saintsenara/Asenora

Our first fic of the week is here by none other than Asenora/saintsenara!

Summary: It was an unconventional choice, on the part of the universe, to make Tom Riddle's victims meet his mother the moment they arrived in the afterlife.

What's to love: MEROPE. An AFTERLIFE fic feat. Merope! She's welcomed into the afterlife confusingly, perplexingly, and the way it's described is so unique. There's this scene with two dinner plates, and Merope, always waiting - chills. You'll get that feeling a lot while reading this stunning fic. Drop what you're doing and read it now.

#merope gaunt #tom riddle #lord voldemort #tom marvolo riddle #metope riddle #tom riddle sr #ladies of hp #ladies of hp fest #unconventional and unashamed #fic rec

[yeehanfrf]

Week 3 Recs: Right on Time

This week's Yeehan recs were all modern/contemporary AUs. Those fics set in our world and time (or roughly thereabouts) that still include the OTP. Check out the recs gathered from the Yeehan community below, organized by rating then alphabetically by title.

Not Rated

Rootbound by wyntera [WIP; 67,484 words] Reccer comment: "Flower shop au bc yes"

Every plant is unique. They need love and care in the right environment to grow. Give them what they need, and they will flourish.

McCree and Hanzo are a lot like plants. Big, stubborn, root bound plants.

General Audiences

Conflict of Interest by orphan_account [28,222 words] Reccer comment: "Superhero au with a Lois Lane type beat"

“You know, I’ve been wanting to get an interview with you,” Jesse says as Hanzo happens upon another malfunctioning elevator shaft. How is it at all likely that more than one elevator is out of service? When Hanzo levels Jesse with a hard glare, the man keeps talking.   “I’m a reporter.”

Or, the one where Hazno and Genji fight crime, Jesse is a cigar-smoking Lois Lane, and everyone else wonders why they’ve been trapped in a bad comic book.

Teen and Up

Climbing the Walls by robocryptid [22,669 words] Reccer comment: "a social-distancing yeehan fic"

Hanzo and Cole are neighbors who have never met until social distancing forces them to stay in their homes. Neither can see the other's face, but that doesn't stop them from getting to know each other.

Da Capo al Signo by midgetnazgul & temporalSilence [75,482 words] Reccer comment: "an incredibly moving fic featuring musician Hanzo and rancher Cassidy falling in loooove"

In music, da capo al signo tells the performer to start over until they see the sign to move on. Life has its movements, too. Even when we must begin again, signs will appear to remind us that just because we feel we are repeating ourselves, we will not necessarily end in the same terrible place we were before.

It's 2018 and Jesse and Hanzo are both living in Tucson, AZ on second chances. Hanzo is on the cusp of recognition as a musician after his life in Japan is run aground by a devastating accident, and Jesse has chiseled out a life of purpose and achievement after a rough childhood. Together, they will come to understand how misfortune and loneliness can end, giving gifts they would never have found any other way.

Flowers for Assholes by HappyLeech [10,552 words]

Hanzo just wants to close up shop for the night. Jesse just wants to tell his boss where to stick it and quit his job.

Of the Pickle Persuasion by Byacolate and mywordsflyup [14,813 words] Reccer comment: "My favorite food truck au"

Hanzo is convinced that his bento wagon is locked in a corporate deathmatch with the taco truck down the street. Genji just wants to flirt with the produce vendor.

Searching for Game... by AsheRhyder [10,792 words] Reccer comment: "Cute, cute, cute, with fun meta jokes about the game, characters, and community."

Genji wants Cassidy to play the new game he helped develop: Overwatch.

Cassidy just wants his hot upstairs neighbor to stop throwing food at him every time he says "hello".

Shimada Dreams of Sushi by delicaterosebud [24,344 words] Reccer comment: "It's silly, but has the right amount of drama, angst and extremely uncomfortable situations."

As the owner of a mediocre taco shack with tanking reviews and multiple health violations, the last thing that Jesse McCree needs is competition - competition, specifically, from a sushi bar so popular that it drove every other restaurant in the neighborhood out of business.

From the very day that Shimada sushi opened its doors, Jesse had hated that restaurant with a burning passion. ...So how does he end up working for the man who runs it?

To the Great Deep He Goes by westerncibee [53,288 words] Reccer comment: "its been a hot second since ive read this but i remember enjoying this one"

Hanzo accompanies Genji to their new college, and of course Genji would want to room with his friend--leaving Hanzo to deal with a god-forsaken cowboy whose only goal that year was to be Hanzo's friend. And as the cowboy said, "You're stuck with me for the rest of the year." - and a lot can happen in a year.

Mature

The Cooking Cowboy by SadakoTetsuwan [WIP; 79,662 words]

It had started simple—he just needed a good recipe for matcha cake to surprise Genji on his birthday, and so he’d started clicking around for tutorials on YouTube.

But now Hanzo is in deep, and is officially part of ‘The Chuckwagon’; the mostly middle-aged, mostly female fan following of YouTube cooking sensation Jesse McCree, the Cooking Cowboy.

How had his life come to this?

Explicit

School Nights by rebeccastceir [WIP; 45,484 words] Reccer comment: "School teacher au and romance~"

Jesse got so flustered he forgot what he was doing and stuck his hand out. “Jesse. McCree. Jesse McCree. I’m -”

“Hana’s teacher, of course,” Hanzo smiled at him, shaking hands, holding on for a split second longer than necessary. He held his head cocked down, almost shy, but kept looking up from under his long lashes, pretty lips teasing in a grin, and ohhh, Jesse was in so much trouble he ached with it.

“Sorry. You knew that,” Jesse mumbled. Was he red? He felt like he was flaming red. __________

It's the fluffiest, smuttiest, romcom-iest, parent-teacher au we all need and deserve

Shear Bliss by wyntera [12,725 words] Reccer comment: "I think about the way Hanzo's hair is described in this fic all the time"

Sometimes you can't help falling for a handsome face...even if they are holding very sharp objects near your head.

And that's a wrap on Week 3! Thank you to everyone who sent in a recommendation! Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "The Rivalmance," or fics all about the rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, competitive assholes to lovers of it all.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 2 recs here or see the list of past and future themes here!

#yeehan #yeehan fic rec friday #yeehanfrf #cole cassidy #hanzo shimada #overwatch fanfiction #author: robocryptid #author: midgetnazgul #author: temporalSilence #author: HappyLeech #author: AsheRhyder #author: delicaterosebud #author: westerncibee #author: SadakoTetsuwan #author: wyntera #author: Byacolate #author: mywordsflyup #author: rebeccastceir #week 3 #modern aus

[heart-shaped-horns]

THE UNIVERSE IS YOUR STAGE- PERFORM! AND DONT WORRY, WE’RE ALL HERE FOR THE SHOW. 🐩🪭💋🍒💄🍎♥️

PATIENT ZERO: PECAN

*bubble gum pops* HELLO AGAIN tumblr nation…it’s your favorite truckstop whore in the flesh.. nyeah………ANYWAYS. For those who haven’t come to know me my names pecan and I run a church (my blog) where we smoke newports and attend sermons (whatever bullshit posts I have to give) PLEASE! Make yourselves at home- the body of Christ is a gift that keeps on giving.

Specimen Info:

-My name is pecan, and I also sometimes go as pecanpie. Other aliases include: Cherry Ferry Fantasia. Choose wisely how you refer to me- or don’t, I don’t even exist!

-I’m 19 and female, you can use whatever pronouns when referring to me, but I usually go by she/her 🪭🪭🪭

-ADHD

-aroace, with a hint of bisexuality.

-My hobbies include: drawing, writing (though I rarely ever do finish my pieces let alone publish them) collecting worthless garbage, listening to music and blowing my eardrums out, being an eternal pain in the ass to deal with, thrifting, sitting on porches, smoking winstons, masquerading as a sane individual, dressing up, and trying out new things because I am an avid dopamine chaser. woohoo!

Things I like: Pretentious media, throwing pitchforks at rich priests, consumerism, otome games, douma, buddhism, echo rose, religious studies, args, reaching divinity, shitty manga, maximalism in every sense, bedazzled stuff, money, getting tacky nails, the roaring 20’s, 1950’s femme fashion, old era aesthetics, boutique shops, leopard print, grandma couches, pathetic wet sop characters and a lot more.

-I have two cats, Mochi and Waffles. The bloodline ends with yours truly.

Fandoms I’m currently active in; Obey Me! Shall We Date, Demon Slayer, and Stephanie Lawson Stevens. I may consider writing for the first two, but I won’t set that in stone yet.

Movies I like: Pink Flamingos, No Country For Old Men, Helter Skelter, Pulp Fiction, All the Boys Love Mandy Lane, Girl Interrupted, Valerie and Her Week of Wonders, Spun, Gummo, Last Night in Soho, Fruit of Wonder, Elephant (2003) - will be updated the more I get my hands on anything new that tickles my fancy.

My taste in music: I’m pretty versatile when it comes to what I prefer, so it could range from bimbo-pop to classical music. Anything that sounds good to me I like. I mostly listen to 50’s housewife songs and lady Gaga, though.

-I’m a big fan of indie art and surrealism. Filmmaking as well. Shaye Saint John and Mouchette.org are a few of my favorites.

-I like mortuary work and autopsies. I hold the death industry in high regards- not everyone is willing to work with corpses.

-huge GIGANTIC douma fan. anything and everything douma related I will not hesitate to engage with, he’s my little guy.

- heart sunglasses ambassador (this is my trademark) ❤️

-Polka dot prints and faux fur are resounding yesses.

-You know Florence? (If you get the reference.)

-I think vintage pill cases are lovely.💋

-I have the response time of a limp dick. I either respond in less than a second or only after 3 business months.

-I’ve been working on my new oc line on and off for a few months now, called FEAR & LOATHING in JERUSALEM. artblock is a massive bitch, but stuff is in progress.

Anyways if you’re a terrible human being feel free to block me, you are not welcome onto my blog thank you very much xoxo (transphobes homophobes ableists you know who you are)

GOT COMPLAINTS? CONTACT ME AT 1-666-JERUSALEM-CRACK-SHACK! Make sure to leave me a message. Business hours only!

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒MASTERLIST: IN THE WORKS? 🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒🍒

#pecanpie #introductory

[englishstrawbie]

Imprints (1/3)

Fandom: Station 19

Characters: Maya Bishop, Carina DeLuca, Andy Herrera, Vic Hughes, Jack Gibson, Travis Montgomery, Dean Miller, Ryan Tanner, Pruitt Herrera, Andrew DeLuca, Katherine Bishop, Mason Bishop, Lane Bishop

Summary: What would life have been like if Maya had never taken up running when she was a child? A Bishop family Christmas lunch ends in an argument and, when Maya bumps her head on the icy porch steps, she finds herself in an alternative life where she is about to discover the answer.

* * * * * * * * * *

It is just before midday when they pull up outside Katherine Bishop’s house in Rainier View. She lives in a small, single storey house – a bit of a shack when she first moved in, but with some love and attention, and a lot of help from Maya, Carina and the team at 19, she quickly made it into a home. The front yard is full of plants and shrubs and flowers, which are currently decorated with snow after this morning’s unexpected flurry.

Maya and Carina had watched the snowfall from bed, wishing each other a Merry Christmas in their own way. Maya had been hoping it would just be the two of them today, but her mom had insisted that they enjoy a family Christmas lunch, the first for a long time, and Maya didn’t have the heart to refuse.

It has been just over a year since she helped her mom pack up her belongings and walk out on Lane Bishop for the second and final time. After a couple of months living in their spare room, Katherine had started to rebuild her life again – getting her job back at the doctor’s office and securing a lease on her own place. She has blossomed and is back to being the strong, independent woman she has kept hidden for so many years, and is determined not to let her ex-husband back into her life.

Read more @ AO3

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #imprints #I'm still not sure what people are going to think about this but here goes!

[rurpleplaysmuttingtonac]

Added more lot décor around the edges of Downtown, which I am calling West Fenton in the series.

It's not complete yet as I have a few lots I want to remodel, which I will be posting on this blog with the Behind The Scenes tag. I want to tweak all the lots in the Downtown hood, but some will have bigger updates than others.

The ones that I plan to edit (and post pictures) are:

Crypto O' Night

The Hub

Similar Sights Sculpture Park

Fresh Rush Grocery

Bernard's Botanical Dining (renamed to St Bernard's Botanical Dining)

Londoste (using Plumtales's version with my own tweaks, renaming it Henley Hall)

Speedy's Fast Lanes Bowling & Eats

Maple Springs Spa & Pool

Sims Gone Wired! (renamed to Fenton's Gone Wired!)

Cold Issue Clothing (renamed to Helmond & Marks)

Red's Famous 50's Diner (renamed to Red's Famous Dancing Diner)

Oresha Family Dining

Sugar Cube Gym & Ice Rink

FM - using this version from MTS with very few changes.

Rodney's Hangout (renamed to Michelle's Coffee).

Fenton Centre Parks - North & South

Lucky Shacks (renamed to The Orange Lantern Pub)

Hans' Trap Door Corp (renamed to Han's Corp Wedding & Tattoo Salon)

SimsBowls Lanes (renamed to Fenton Bowls)

Lulu Lounge

One Twenty Five Café (renamed to Little Italia Café)

Midnight Flows (remodelled to a Library)

Lots Left to remodel:

Deh'Javu Modern Art Museum

We're nearly at the end of the remodels and the city's looking so good!

#Muttington BTS #Renovating West Fenton #Masterpost

[valeriasfragments]

Pyrokinesis or: Understanding Fractured Memory

The house down the street is on fire and I think I did it. I think I am one of those fire psychic people, what's it called? Pyrokinesis the internet tells me. Or maybe I'm crazy, what would be the difference anyway? 

Anyhow, I think I started the fire but I can't be sure because my memory can't be trusted and while I don't remember going into the building and lighting a match but I can't say I didn't not do it, you know? Brains are temperamental things and prone to forgetting upsetting things. 

Oh, right, anyway, I think I started it with my mind. You see every day I walk to work and I cross East Hampton street and at the top of East Hampton is Von Strauss Manor, a very large, very old house with something like 10 bedrooms or whatever. 

And every morning I stop and I stare at Von Strauss Manor from the bottom of East Hampton where it ends at Charleston Lane and while staring at it, catching my breath from all the walking, and I imagine what it would look like engulfed in flames. And on the way home from work tonight my wish came true. 

Von Strauss Manor started life as a landowner's house and through the years property exchanged hands, people died, inheritances were had and now Von Strauss Manor was on fire and I think it was my fault. I would apologize but I would do it again and again, that house knows what it did wrong. 

You see, while staring at the monstrosity of a mansion with a baleful stare, imagining the fire licking the air, and before I know it the flames were there. And I didn't mean to actually harm the house, but it looked at me with a sinister gaze.

I felt threatened. It was an act of self defense. Manslaughter in the first degree with pyrokinesis. Well I guess houseslaughter, does that exist? Probably not. They'll write a whole new section of law for this. I don't think pyrokinesis is technically illegal... or legal.

I think they call that a "technical gray area" or something like that. Anyway, I'm sure I will be the catalyst for this houseslaughter legislature, they're always making laws to punish queers like me. 

But... Also... Why do I remember marble flooring and a sauna and hot tub? Why do I get flashes of a big rear projection TV and one of those sound systems with the big speakers you always see at Radio Shack in their gaudy tech display? Why the specifics? 

I am unsure, but I am sure of one thing: my brain was rearranged by a drunk redneck in a bar fight outside Tupelo, Mississippi sometime in July 1979. Why do I remember that date but never any birthdays or anniversaries or any of the government holidays? Oh right, the brass knuckles and the redneck, yes, well, that guy beat me bad enough that I can't trust my memory anymore.

Also I remember it because it was the night of the Tupelo Concession Stand Brawl, Jerry Lawler & Bill Dundee vs. Larry Latham & Wayne Ferris in what would be known as the birth of hardcore wrestling. It was a wild brawl and goddamn I love wrestling.

Oh, right, the knuckles and the redneck, yeah that was my post-show ritual. I would go to the matches and cheer some good guys and yell at bad guys and have a great time, then I would come out here to the bar and drink a few drinks and walk home.

Well, on this night Mr. Redneck and I got into a verbal disagreement and he decided to rearrange my face, but what he didn't count on was my head bouncing off the pavement so hard my brain broke. A cheap shot blindsided me and now I have severe memory issues.

So now I am watching the firemen try to scramble and save the manor engulfed in flames by the weird trans girl who used her redneck brass knuckle birthed crazy person pyrokinesis and I realize, while I did do this, nobody knows I did do this because my brain did this for me. I think. I don't rightly remember.

#microfiction

[island-in-the-shadows]

A nobody asked me list of quick fire opinions on IWTV now that I saw both episodes out online thus far.

Things I appreciate about it thus far:

Louis NOT living in a shack and wearing threadbare clothing in the present.

Louis having a bit more vampiric power than his book or film counterpart (though that’s a whole double edged sword).

Louis having one of Marius’ paintings.

Lestat’s voice and way of speaking. It’s very haunting and seductive and makes perfect sense for the character and for his seduction of Louis.

Subtle nods to characters from wider lore such as Marius, Nicky, and Gabrielle. 

“He ain’t white. He French.”

Louis eating that racist guy. As a POC who has smiled through micro aggressions, it was bizarrely satisfying. 

Lestat describing his sexuality as “Non discriminating.”

The chemistry between our two leads.

The married couple argues in bed (coffin) trope.

Lestat being slutty.

The family drama Louis had before he became a vampire and how becoming a vampire put further strain on his familial relationships.

The costume design.

The set design.

Jacob and Sam’s performances.

The fucking with religion which is very in keeping with some of the themes of book verse. 

Things I do NOT appreciate thus far: 

I don’t know who this older gentleman thinks he is but he’s not Daniel. It has nothing to do with him being older and more with just not understanding who he is supposed to be. To wit, I fail to believe any Daniel based on the book character would somehow not chase after these creatures after his interview with Louis in the 70s had come to an end (though for all I know this will be touched upon later and maybe why this version of the character is such a gaping a-hole). 

Daniel having been a junkie before the interview with Louis. From my understanding of reading the source materials, Daniel didn’t really go unhinged into drinking and drugs until after Louis and, more severely so, after Armand.

Daniel being as he is also makes me wonder if he’s supposed to be an amalgam of book Daniel and David Talbot. 

Daniel presuming he knows anything about a gay interracial relationship that took place at the beginning of the 20th century. Stay in your lane sir. You cannot use modern morality to judge Louis for saying that he and Lestat were equals in the dark (especially talking over the POC telling you this).

I mean I hope the whole Daniel thing doesn’t go where I’m suspecting it will and I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt but I still am going with the head canon of that’s not Daniel. That’s some guy actual Daniel had take his place when he became a vampire and rode off into the sunset.

#mari rambles #interview with the vampire #vampire chronicles #Louis de pinte du lac #lestat de lioncourt #daniel molloy