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#ongoing discussion over the past handful of asks
seattlesellie · 10 months
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color me ♡
pairing: ellie williams x reader
warnings: pure smut, rough sex, breeding strap, fake cum swallowing, ass play, maybe a lil gross but 🤍
authors note: so i dont know whats actually inside those breeding straps and if its not actually safe to digest… sorry! obvs based on an old one of mine n @elskittie important server discussions <3
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"El Ellie, Ellie — Ah!" was the only repeating sentence that left you whiney mouth for the past seven minutes. Ellie was quick with it, brutal, even. The sharp pain of her strap's ongoing strokes and thrusts rendering you borderline unconscious. You liked being like this, didn't you? her personal rag doll, being thrown around for her pleasure.
She wasn't afraid of telling you how much you liked it, either. Ellie loved basking in your neediness for her, in how dumb you looked when she fucked you senseless. Each resounding slap against your flesh, and every firm tug of her fist on your hair served as a vivid affirmation of her power over you. "You fucking like that? huh?" she gasped in amidst the rhythmic thrusts. You could feel her in your tummy, feel her stinging inside of your brain. "Like being like this f'me? yeah?" she was panting like an animal, you could feel how close she was by the way she was swallowing her words. Her voice was hoarse, and she struggled to maintain her composure, almost falling apart right there with you. Slap! you were on all fours now, face shoved in the soft, cream colored pillow, ass shamelessly spread completely open. You felt vulnerable, like she could see everything. Ellie wasn't always like this, see, she loved taking her time. Caressing you, giving you tiny pecks everywhere around your body, like little butterflies landing on your skin. Today wasn't like this. “Get on the bed" she commanded after getting back from a three day hunt. You knew it by the flare in her eyes, by the way she couldn't look at you directly. Whatever happened there was between her and herself only. Oh, how Ellie loved how you looked. "Pretty asshole too, huh?" She panted, her thumb gently tracing circles around the perimeter of your clenched entrance. "So fucking—" she growled, and stuck her thumb inside, leaving a stinging pain ringing inside of your body. Twisting it in slow circles, it's deliberate, controlled movements akin to a meticulously driven screw, twisting slowly, intensifying the sensation with each revolution. "So fucking tight everywhere" she marveled. You couldn't even respond, drool cascaded onto the rumpled sheets beneath you. You were whimpering, screaming, god, she had effortlessly coaxed three mind-shattering orgasms from your trembling form. You could have passed out already, you could have been laying on her chest, listening to her soft breathing by now. But this truly, wasn't about you. With a forceful strike, she gave your ass another harsh slap. It morphed into a deep shade akin to a bruised blue. "Pretty" she panted. You were mumbling incoherently, a mixture of "thank you Ellie" and "for you, Ellie". You wanted to ask her — "You really think I'm pretty?" "Am I yours forever? You making me yours?" but goddamn, you were too fucked out to function. She slipped her other thumb inside your tightest hole, as if her other one wasn't enough. The overwhelming sensation caused your vision to blur with celestial bursts, your voice erupting in a symphony of screams and desperate pleas that reached the heavens themselves. "Ellieeeee — too tight!" you babbled. She plunged it deeper with a cocky grin. That action drove you to instinctively fight against her grip, your hands frantically clawing at the fabric of the sheets, seeking a desperate anchor to reality. She formed a tight fist around your hair, yanked it, and pulled you by gripping her fingers tight on your ass. Don't you dare.
"Don't you fucking run away from me" she grunted, and kept her grip on your waist.
"Stay" she commanded, and you did. Her desperate grunts and the fact that she reached that little spot, that spot no one else ever did, made your stomach tie in tight knots. You were fucking close, too. And she knew it. Who knows you better than her? "Gonna let me fucking use you" she growled, "Gonna let me fucking cum inside of you?” she told, her breath hot and unsteady against your neck. And then, it was as if a cartoonish light bulb appeared over your head. You smiled dumbly to yourself. You really are fucking nasty. "In my mouth" you hiccuped. Her hand left your plump ass, and started forming small, harsh circles on your clit. She was flabbergasted, her strokes slowing down. "In your what?" she questioned, her voice deep. "Want you to cum on my face" you stated. Simple as that. Ellie laughed, she laughed at you. "You're fucking nasty, you know that? she teased, the faint sensation of her smile pressed against your shoulder conveyed the delight she derived from your desires. Those words could have made her come on the spot. "Get on your knees" she commanded, and pulled the plastic cock out of you with a deep, breathy grunt. You clenched, feeling utterly empty without her deep inside. You pouted with a small "mhm". Ellie gave you a stern look. It was so, so clear how hard she was controlling herself, her own clit throbbing and begging for release. "You wanted this" she said, and squeezed your plump cheeks together. She almost forced you to open your mouth, stick your tongue out in order to directly spin on you, but you wanted something much, much more disgusting. It was an ego trip for her, truly. She yanked you down, and got you to get on your knees with a loud thump. That was going to leave a bruise. Oh, how you weren't expecting Ellie's next step. She grabbed the large silicone shaft in her hands, an pinched your chin, to get you to look at her. Ellie had her eyes fixated on you, entranced. You looked pathetic, sticky drool on your chin, thighs covered in your own release. Her look was piercing through you. She caressed your cheek delicately, calloused hand grazing your skin. She was going to burn this moment in her memory. If she could, she would have taken a picture — but this was still an apocalypse, and she got ever so lucky from just finding the obscene sexy toy during one of her patrols. She took the base of the cock, and began grinding in on her own clit. If she was going to cum on your face, it had to be the real fucking deal. "Ohhh god — shit" She moaned deeply, never once leaving your eyes. You felt your own clit throbbing, a swarm of butterflies buzzing in your stomach. You trailed your hand down and began forming slow circles on your clit, still wet, still deliciously creamy. She bit her lower lip. She would have scolded you for your desperate actions, how dare you touch yourself when she's right there — but thankfully, she knew you just couldn't help it. Breathy, high pitched moans were escaping her mouth, she really was fucking close, rubbing it all over her wet cunt. "Don't you fucking look away from me" she commanded, swallowing her own words. “Don't you dare." The shaft's movements on her cunt were deeper now, faster, the base hitting her puffy button just right, pressing on it. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure, almost fucking there. "Gonna cum" she panted. "Stick that fucking tongue out - Fuck — stick it out" her eyebrows were squinted together, jeez, how you loved her fuck-face. She was full on whimpering your name, hand wrapped around your scalp. She shook the strap up and down on her glistening slit.
It was a marvelous look, my god.
She could feel the white colored pleasure taking over, and almost instinctively, as if it was truly connected to her, grabbed the balls of the strap, squeezed them hard, and as she rode her orgasm - the white, thick, creamy liquid squeezed out of the tip of her cock, splashing all over your warm, eager tongue, and then all over your face. "Holy— fucking— shit" she moaned, riding it out, marveling in how much of a fucking whore you looked like, covered in cream. She was delirious, almost, because she swore it felt like it came out of her own cunt.
Unsurprisingly, who would have thought, you came all over your fingers. Ellie laughed, again, astonished, panting and grunting obscenities.
"You fucking — " she gulped, and rubbed the liquid all over your tongue with her fingers. tracing it up down, swirling it all over your mouth. "Swallow it" she commanded, hypnotized by your pathetic look.
"Cumslut" she whispered in disbelief.
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birgittesilverbae · 1 year
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love, like a quietly mended shirt
for @random-french-girl, thanks for the war crimes in your tags on this post (ao3)
Unlike back in Switzerland, where bed rights had been an ongoing push and pull, the choice to share this bedroom was never a discussion. Ava had chosen a room, bouncing in excitement about getting to pick something for herself, and Beatrice had lingered in the doorway, rucksack slung over her shoulder, glancing down the hall until Ava had darted back and grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the bed. Best to be in tight quarters to better protect the Halo Bearer, she’d told herself, but that internal monologue has long since stopped sounding rational even to herself.
"Right side for you this time," Ava had said with a grin, gesturing towards the side closest to the doors. Beatrice had allowed herself to be swept up in Ava's wake.
Now, Beatrice enters their bedroom, her chest still thrumming with adrenaline from the conversation she and Ava had had on the balcony, to find their gear laid out on their bed, combat habit on the right and Ava's clothing on the left, freshly laundered. Ava's pants are folded neatly, her top laid flat so that the tears in it are on display. There's a lime green sticky note pressed to the shirt, and Beatrice doesn't resist the urge to peek at it.
It's a series of names and edits, in the neat script Ava has worked so hard to develop in the past few months. 
Ask Bea Cam Jillian to fix
A stone bears down, down, down Beatrice's throat as her thumb swipes across her own name, struck through. Across Cam's name, the evidence Ava had forgotten their failure in the moment.
She peels the sticky note off and picks up the shirt, fingers finding the tears in the spandex sleeves with ease. The wounds had been healed by the time Ava had returned, the only remaining evidence of them the blood that crusted the torn edges to Ava's skin. When she holds the shirt up in front of her, she notices something else. There are matching incisions in front and back of the torso, clean cuts. Where the rents in the sleeves must have been made by Lilith's claws — and she resolutely does not think about that — these are from a different weapon. These are from a blade honed sharp and deadly. These are from a penetrating stab wound. She knows what that looks like far better than most.
She remembers the streaks of blood down Ava's chin, not quite entirely cleaned away, and a fist clenches around her heart. She'd assumed it had been a split lip, a cheek wound. Those always bleed so fervently. But with this evidence?
Beatrice had sacrificed the mission to save Ava, and Ava had gone off to almost die again anyways. Ava had gone off to get stabbed in the back, if she's reading the pattern of the incisions correctly (and she knows she is).
Her hands are shaking when she digs the sewing kit out of her rucksack. Shannon had taught her to thread a needle by candlelight so many years past, and now she does it without seeing, hands moving like the action is carved into muscle and bone. And maybe it is, now, after dozens of missions, after hours spent bent over combat gear with needle and thread, with leather and awl. 
She's modified every piece of armour she's ever been presented with, trimmed excess off of straps to fit them more snugly to limbs, hammered in fresh rivets to reinforce seams that were on the brink of failing, sewn darts into her hoods so they better hugged her head. This feels different, though. She's never held another's gear in her hands like this. Never brushed her hand over battered leather and murmured thanks for the protection it had given its wearer. 
To mend another's armour is an intimate act, Beatrice feels to her depths, but she also knows full well she's long past the point where that would be a barrier to her. Every part of hers is Ava's, right down to her faith. She'd proved that the other day, under Adriel's cross, when she'd sacrificed the world for her devotion.
The dart of the needle, the rhythm of the stitch, has always felt meditative, like the passage of prayer beads through her fingers. The Chaplet of the Divine Mercy is not the traditional rosary, but one that has become common amongst Sister Warriors — Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion — inexhaustible, look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy in us, that in difficult moments we might not despair nor become despondent. Beatrice finds herself falling into the devotion, voice low and fervent, as she sews. 
The stretch of the spandex is frustrating to work with, but Beatrice is grateful for that. It feels a penance to have to handle the unwieldy fabric with hands that would rather curl into fists, rather reach out across the chasm she's put between herself and Ava. The ballpoint needle slides smoothly between the weave of the fabric, tacking the patch she's cut from spare spandex to the back of the tears as she uses a herringbone stitch to sew the edges back together. The stitching should stretch with the flex and reach of Ava's arm, then, the thread not pushed near to breaking. 
The stitching should hold. In that, at least, she can be certain.
She buries the ends of the threads and brushes her palm across the neat lines of stitches. There's an ache in her back from too long spent holding position, bent over the handwork in her lap, and when she rises her vertebrae crackle with the effort - though that may be more attributable to the physical trauma she'd received the day prior, now that she really considers it. She tries not to think about that, either.
She folds the shirt carefully and lays it on top of the pants, corner square to the edge of the bed. Then she grabs the sticky note again, crumpling it up and shoving it in her pocket.
She cannot run away with Ava, cannot flee the coming battle for that selfish dream, but she can do this one act of service. Ava may be planning to walk to her own death with open arms, but Beatrice can at least give her the armour in which to face her fate.
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fever-fluff · 4 months
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Broken Fate
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Synopsis: When Azriel is sent to deal with an ongoing problem in the Hybern after the fall of the King nearly two centuries ago, he finds more to the story than he ever thought possible. Three to Five Part series with inspiration from the Netflix show Arcane Word Count: 2.1k
Part II
Everyone was present, Feyre and Rhysand sitting at opposite ends of the table, the rest of them either side. Rhys had started calling these meetings more frequently with the developments of Hybern increasing as the years went on. The fae in power were diligent on keeping good relations with Prythian after everything that had happened, and they had all spent time playing emissary and host to make sure nothing like the past ever happened again.
But something dark had begun to brew in spite of their efforts, though it didn’t spur from the top as it had before.
“The Hybernian Court has requested our aid in investigating a city showing frequent attacks in the recent years. They’ve sent spies and their armed forces in, but neither have come back with any information, and those who have gained some leads haven’t returned at all.” Rhys’ explanation left a sick feeing in everyone, the trauma of the war still a fresh wound. But he pressed on, “There’s a showing pattern of guerilla warfare, and it seems to be a small group of rebels pressing for a cause no one knows anything about.”
All eyes turned to Azriel, but he had been expecting it. Ever since the private discussion he, Feyre and Rhys had the night before on what he’d be asked to do, and he’d accepted with no qualms.
“Make it quick, there’s no need to engage. This is solely reconnaissance. If we’re seen interfering with Hybern directly there’ll be a lot of questions as to what our motives are.” He already knew all of this, ingrained in his psyche since he’d taken on the role of the Night Court’s Spymaster.
The trip was already planned, and the meeting was more of a curtsey to everyone save himself and his High Lord and Lady. He’d leave before nightfall, winnowing to the Hybernian Court immediately to gather any other information to sensitive to send by letter.
But still, as he packed what little he would need for the trip, Azriel felt the sadness of leaving his family hit him hard like it did every time. He’d lost count of the years he’d collectively lost in their presence because his work took him so far into the shadows. But if this was what kept them safe, he do it all for the rest of his life.
A soft knock pulled him out of his thoughts, and at his call the door opened to Elain standing in the space it occupied.
“Elian, its late. What are you doing up?” AZ’s voice aways seemed to soften in his throat when it came to her, as if she would bolt if it raised even the slightest. “I wanted to say goodbye. Cassian said it might be a while until you’re back…” her shyness melted away any frost he felt from leaving, and he managed a small smile. “Missing me already?”
Her cheeks reddened at his question, and her gaze left his as she moved further into the room. There was a small brown parcel in her hand he hadn’t noticed at first until she held it out to him once near enough. “It’s a reminder. To make sure you come back… to all of us.”
He made to open it but she stopped him, “Just, wait until you really need it.”
His smile brightened and he nodded. “Alright.”
It had gone silent between the two of them. Ever since she had learned of Rhys’ intervention on Solstice all those years ago, the distance between them had grown further and further. But it hadn’t stopped the fractures of his heart aching for her any less, even as she had allowed Lucien into her life piece by piece over the last few years. Azriel had resolved himself to care for her from afar, knowing that he’d never have her in the way he wanted. At one point, he had tried to turn his affections to someone else, a fleeting relationship with Gwyn had been the closest he’d gotten. But with the result being both of them returning to friends amicably, he hadn’t attempted anything since.
So, as he stepped into his shadows, Azriel cast one last glance at Velaris until he returned. Whenever that may be.
The arrival and send off from the Court had been brief. No one seemed to have any relevant information beyond what they had been told. The small bits they had gathered was more about the city itself which was under attack, and the randomness of the attacks had left him questioning the motives of these fae.
There was no pattern to suggest anything involving money being stolen under the guise of threats, and shops or buildings with considerable funds hadn’t lost any inventory from the reports following. There was no sign of defence barracks being targeted, and nothing to suggest high officials. The city itself seemed to be underdeveloped compared to the rest of Hybern. A sickness had taken the city by storm, and fae were left shells of their former selves, becoming what the court officials had called degenerate. It had become an underground, where the lowest of the lows had taken residency and the city had become a hive for crime and poverty.
The city had been when the old king had reigned, the new court had established themselves the opposite side of a river, spanning large enough that the two had been disconnected save for two bridges, each one monitored on fae moving in and out – though he’d spotted less than five altogether, and they had been soldiers changing shifts. Going over had been easy with the seal he’d been given, but he was encouraged to leave it when reaching the boarder to the other side. “If they catch you with it, they’ll know you’re fresh meat. Better off not taking the chance considering they’re more like rabid animals than anything else.” The soldier had tucked it into his jacket discretely, “I’m back on shift every three days at dusk, come to the bridge then and I’ll make sure you pass back through.” Azriel nodded his goodbye and thanks before stepping over completely and let his shadows engulf him once again to begin his work.
Flashbacks of his youth in Illyrian camps flitted through his mind as he wandered the streets, head covered but wings out in need of a quick escape. Fae littered the sides of streets, some walking to and from bars and shops, other sitting lifelessly, half covered in the darkness the night provided. He’d even spotted children eating out of alleyway dumping grounds more than he’d like to count.
His shadows had dispersed to grab wind of any mentions of who he was looking for, but as they checked in every hour, Azriel realised it wouldn’t be as easy as that. Instead, he’d sent one out to find a lodging, not trusting the ones given to him by the high fae unless he wanted an easy tip off that he wasn’t here honourably. It lead him to a run down looking tavern, although it was in much better upkeep than its neighbours. A sign for rooms to rent hung beneath another calling it “Aegir’s.”
Inside was not much better. Fae who had wasted themselves on ale slumped over half drained tankards, and two were close to turning violent over spilled coins from a card game further back. The fae behind the bar had stared at him as soon as he’d entered and didn’t seemed inclined to stop even after he sat himself on a stool. Looking at the faelights, Azriel realised that they weren’t in fact what he was used to. Wisps and Devas filles small glass orbs scattered around haphazardly. His dislike apparently evident when the barkeep slapped the cloth he’d been using down on the counter in front of him. “They’re paid n’ fed for the work they do, ain’t got the money to pay for faelightin’ like the seelies over the river.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Azriel motioned to the whiskey bottle behind, but the male didn’t reach for it. “Don’t gotta speak to know you ain’t unseelie boy. Ain’t no one dress like you ere. What with all that tasty lookin leather and cloak you got goin’ on.” Azriel felt a shift behind him, patrons looking up from their cups to size up the newest crop on the market. “I’m not here to cause a scene, I’m just passing through.” He slipped three coppers onto the wood, and they were gone before anyone blinked. A glass of whiskey sat in their place not even a moment later, the barkeep glaring at the fae behind him to settle the scraping chairs back in their place. “There’s easier routes to pass through than ere. Why not save yerself the trouble?”
“No one looks in places like this.” It was enough to have the male backing off from his interrogation. “How much for a room?”
“How long?”
“Three weeks, maybe an extension.”
The number he’d tossed Azriel was absurd but he’d fished half of it out and handed it over, the second half tucked safely away until he’d leave. Azriel had finished his drink in tense silence before he’d followed a barmaid up through winding staircase half ready to keel in on itself. The room was much worse than the bar downstairs, a pile of straw covered by a questionable looking piece of cloth on top. No pillow but a thinned blanket that had seen better days. Azriel slipped a gold mark into the barmaids hand as she made to leave after she’d set a wisp filled orb on the floor beside it, “I’ll be in and out of this room, ask nothing and say nothing. Have only you clean it, and there’ll be more where that came from.” She’d been silent as she closed the door behind her, pressing a key he was sure he should not have in his hand before leaving.
As soon as he was alone, shadows trickled in from the open window and whispered of findings in his ears, but it was short of what he’d hoped. There truly was nothing to say about a rogue group of fae stirring up trouble for the city. Even with all he’d seen, the level of destruction that was happening should have lead to more than what he’d found. But it wasn’t long into his awful first night when he found he’d landed himself bang in the middle of it all.
The noise was unlike anything he had ever heard. The rumbling after reminded him of Rhys when he orchestrated his power in full force. But it was a quick blast. And the shockwave from it didn’t remind him of any powers he had ever come across before. Shooting to the window, Azriel watched as buildings went up in flames not five from Aegir’s, and the flames beginning to sprout spoke of a future of a uncontrollable fire.
He hadn’t changed out of what he wore in the bar, and launched himself down the stairs when he found the window too small to fit through. The bar was empty, the fae having run out at the commotion not far off, and everyone seemed to watch an old, abandoned cobblers crumble in a blaze of orange and a cloud of ash.
Groups had finally began moving towards the disaster, buckets filled with water being thrown onto the heat. It would take hours to put out, but unless he wanted to expose himself, all Azriel could do was watch and grab a bucket as it was tossed his way.
The sun had already started rising when the last of the embers started to smoulder. Azriel found himself standing beside Aegir’s barkeep, both covered in ash and soot from standing too close to the debris. And the building beside it, letters were drawn on the stones in what looked like blood, but up closer he realised it was instead tar.
Fiver letters, drawn with anger and resentment scraped down the walls.
LIARS
“What in the Mother is that about?”
“Somethin tha shouldn’t concern the likes of a fae passin’ through, boy” the barkeep had already turned and gone back inside, as did everyone else. Azriel couldn’t understand how unconcerned everyone was. They all just spent the better half of the night making sure the fire hadn’t spread and just seemed to walk away in indifference.
Defeated from the effort it had taken, Azriel resigned himself to going back to the room and locking the door before he hit the hard surface of his bed for the next couple of weeks.
The stinging from the smoke in his eyes lessened, and a fitful sleep cast over him before he had any more time to think of what had just happened.
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scifrey · 1 year
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Keepsakes
Status: Ongoing Ficlet collection; unbeta'd
Series: the Hob Adherent series
Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse (including the Good Omens and Lucifer television shows), but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.
Rating: Mature-ish.
Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Some sexytimes. Some whomp and hurt/comfort.
Relationships:  Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past)
Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Patrick the Bartender, Harriet Butler, Matthew the Raven
Summary: Short ficlets set in the Hob Adherent world, based on prompts received from readers. Feel free to DM me or leave prompts in the comments, and if it resonates with me, I may write up a ficlet! Thank you for the inspiration in advance.
Set amid the events of Cling Fast and Carpe Diem
READ ON AO3 OR READ BELOW:
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Postcards
"So, a sword in Buckingham's army, a bandit, a printer, a shipwright and then a merchant middleman for the dockyards, a knight, a beggar, investment broker--"
"Slaver," Hob interrupts Harriet as she counts off his professions on her fingers one slow, sunny afternoon at The New Inn. "Call the thing what it was."
Hari offers him a sympathetic smile. They're the only ones in the pub proper today, as Patrick is off to tend his ailing mother, Dee doesn't come in Mondays, and Morph is having lunch with his editor.
"After which you were an MP and staunch abolitionist, a soldier again in America for the North, an industrialist and labor rights advocate, a yuppie and silicone valley early adopter--"
"Apple paid for most of this," Hob agrees, selecting a glass and checking it for water spots or lipstick stains.
"--and now a professor and publican. Am I missing any?"
“Oh!” Hob remembers as he pulls a pint for her. "And I was ruler of Hell."
She leans across the bar from her stool, and thwacks his arm. “Fuck off, you were not, you old liar,” Hari laughs.
"Was so!" Hob protests, setting her beer down in front of her. "Ask my husband. He was there. I was ruler of Hell for thirteen minutes and seventeen seconds on my six-hundred and sixty-sixth birthday."
Hari raises a challenging eyebrow at Hob over her pint glass as she takes a sip. "I won't believe a thing the Prince of Stories tells me," she says decisively, when she sets the beer back down. "And I don't believe you."
Hob pulls a postcard from L.A. off the bar back, where it's been pinned to a corkboard among a handful of others, all from the same city. This card depicts a cartoon devil drawn over a photo of the Hills, lounging on the iconic Hollywood sign. It says "Greetings from Sin City!" in bright yellow font.
Hob hands it to Hari to inspect. Her face gets drawn as her eyes flick over the handwritten note on the back.
"To my fellow former ruler of Hell; I did it! I opened a nightclub, just like you suggested. Visit me at LUX any time you'd like, Hobsie. xxx Lucifer Morningstar," Hari reads in a voice that grows increasingly strangled.
She hands the card back to Hob with trembling fingers. Then she shotguns the rest of her pint.
"So hell is real, then," Hari warbles.
Hob shrugs. "Everything is real. Humans create gods, not the other way around. If someone believes in it, it exists."
Hari nods thoughtfully. "I suppose you would know, being married to a god."
Hob chuckles. "Well, former god-ish. And don't worry, only people who believe they deserve to go to Hell actually do. Self-punishment or fulfilling prophecy, or something. I try not to think to much about that Celestial stuff."
Hari nods again, and without asking, Hob refills her pint glass. He has a feeling she's going to need it.
"But it is something I'm going to have to worry about," Hari says softly, accepting the drink with a nod.
"Not any time soon, I hope," Hob says, folding his arms on the bar top and leaning close to offer her a comforting look. "And when it does happen, I can promise you that my sister-in-law is gentle and kind. You have nothing to worry about."
Harriet runs her arthritis gnarled finger up and down the side of the glass, collecting up the condensation. "You know, that is actually a comfort." She looks up at Hob with a wicked little grin. "Especially knowing your husband."
Hob throws his head back and laughs.
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buttercupjosh · 4 days
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Seasons of Love
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(Gif credit to @youmustlovehim)
Word count: 2,772
Genres: strangers to lovers to exes, a little bittersweet
Warnings: none
A/N: I’ve had pieces of details of this fic in mind for a while and I started to slowly write it out over the past few months. This title comes from Seasons of Love from the musical RENT, although there’s nothing in the story connects to specific details from that. The story is not based off of anything specific, just a plot that had been simmering in me for some time. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set this season. However, the season is still ongoing at the moment and anything can happen or change). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌
(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)
““How do you measure a year in the life? How about love?” -Seasons of Love from the RENT musical soundtrack
Prologue
“Excuse me, is this a good book to read?” a deep accented voice asks you.
“Dune? For sure, it’s an epic story,” you reply.
“Do you think I could finish it in 4 days?” the voice asks.
“4 days? Unless you’re an Olympian at reading and processing complex storylines, I’d say it might take you close to 4 weeks or even 4 months to read it all,” you respond.
“Oh,” the voice says in defeat, “what do you recommend then?”
You list off some sci-fi recs for the towering cute man and he takes your suggestions into mind before deciding to get a copy of We, a novel written by his fellow countryman Yevgeny Zamyatin.
“I’ve never read that one,” you chimed.
“Should we start a book club then so you can read it?” the voice asks with a chuckle.
“Um, how can I start a book club with someone whose name I don’t even know?”
Slightly embarrassed, the voice introduces himself as Andrei and you introduce yourself to him as you shake hands. His hand in yours felt so comforting for someone you just met under an hour ago. Andrei was impressed that you knew so much about books. One of his New Year’s resolutions was to read more so that’s how he ended up at Barnes and Noble talking to you. You were at the store, just looking around for something new to read, and stumbled into the sci-fi section before checking out with your new copy of Happy Place by Emily Henry.
“So are we starting this book club then, Andrei?” you slyly ask.
Andrei wanted to have someone as a reading buddy to discuss reading with him (the other guys on the team weren’t as into reading as him) and it didn’t hurt that he had someone who knew a lot about literature right in front of him so he agreed to it.
“As long as you read “We” with me, please?” Andrei charmingly requested.
Although sci-fi wasn’t your thing at the moment, you couldn’t quite say no to the man with big brown doe eyes so you grabbed a copy off the shelf. Before going over the parameters of the newly formed book club, Andrei kindly paid for both of your books and you decided to discuss the rules in the cafe located inside of the store.
You and Andrei sat in a semi-secluded booth towards the back of the cafe and began sharing some of your backstories with each other over drinks and muffins. Andrei was again impressed by your educational background of holding an MFA in Creative Writing from NC State and your job as an adjunct English professor at Wake Tech Community College; it definitely explained your love of reading but your dream was to move to New York and become an author one day. You were working on a manuscript for a cute romance novel but still had a lot of things to do before it was ready to be presented to a publisher. The professor job was just a placeholder until you finished up your manuscript and saved up enough money to get a literary agent; you loved writing as much as you loved reading but getting your foot in the door in the writing industry was rough. You listened to Andrei as he told his story about his life and how he ended up in America through his hockey career. You and Andrei were both curious about each other and asked so many questions to each other for such a long time that you didn’t even notice that the store was going to close. Neither of you wanted your time together to end but you both had lives to get to outside of the store. You both laughed when you realized that you and Andrei spent so much time getting to know each other that not once throughout your conversation did you discuss the rules of the book club. Before leaving, you and Andrei exchanged numbers. You both agreed to read the first 50 pages and scheduled to meet up at a different cafe to discuss what you read so far in two weeks.
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Winter
Within a year, the book club didn’t last long but it did lead to you and Andrei being in constant contact with each other. Due to both of your schedules, neither of you really had the time to sit down and have deep intellectual discussions about what you read; you both did end up finishing reading We but you finished it at different paces. Being the book lover you are, you completed the book first but Andrei finished reading the book while on the road and he wanted to discuss the ending with you so bad that he surprisingly FaceTime called you. That one FaceTime call with Andrei turned into a long series of texts, phone calls, and more FaceTime calls and eventually spending time together offline. You and Andrei considered each other to be just friends but that friendship eventually turned into you falling for each other.
Andrei was a hot commodity around Raleigh and in Russia with his DMs bursting at the seams but he only had eyes for you. He had never fallen in love with someone the way that he did for you; being with you was different than what he was used to but it worked in the best way. You knew the risks and chaos of being with a busy, famous athlete but Andrei was worth all of it. You blended and adjusted well into the hockey romantic partner lifestyle and Andrei even taught you how to ice skate. Despite the busyness of your lives, you and Andrei still showed up for and made time for each other, even if it was something as small as meeting up at your place for a post-afternoon game milkshake from The Shiny Diner or as big as taking Andrei as your date to your work holiday party. Whenever you had the time, you and Andrei created fun, everlasting memories together. A somewhat sweet memory that Andrei would always remember was when on one cold evening, you wanted to surprise your Russian boyfriend by attempting to make him borscht, a traditional Eastern European soup that was his favorite comfort food. The soup did not come well at all so you and Andrei ended up ordering Panera Bread to warm your bones. Although the soup you made tasted unpleasant, Andrei appreciated the fact that you took the time and effort to learn something from his culture and did that from your heart. The poetic thing about your relationship was that you patiently understood each other, despite the language and culture barrier; your relationship just worked like two puzzle pieces clicking together into place.
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Spring
As the flowers bloomed around Raleigh, the school year for you ended on a good note and unsurprisingly, the Canes made playoffs. Deep into your manuscript writing, Andrei surprised you with a trip to New York after the Canes were eliminated from playoffs. You and Andrei were already spending the entire off-season together so this trip wasn’t a necessity but it was a nice thing to do.
Your time in New York was amazing and full of love, fun, and plenty of delicious food. While you were in the City, you took the opportunity to meet with some potential literary agents and publishers; although your manuscript was about 90 percent done, it didn’t hurt to check those things out. Andrei was supportive of you and your dreams but he selfishly wished that those dreams didn’t include moving to New York and that you would stay in Raleigh and have a life with him there. He had already known his future was tightly connected to the City of Oaks but you had a desire to create a future somewhere else. You knew these dreams of yours could possibly involve leaving the love of your life; neither of you tried not to dwell too hard on the stress and pressure that those dreams added to your relationship. You also knew the publishing industry was cutthroat and competitive and that there was no guarantee that your book would be picked up by a top publisher but those realities didn’t stop you from at least trying to take the steps towards that dream.
Outside of this pressure, you and Andrei still made the best of your time in NYC. You also loved musical theater so of course, you had to catch a Broadway show. Andrei, being the amazing boyfriend that he is, actually secured tickets for the two of you to see Hamilton at the Richard Rogers Theater. You had watched the live stage production on Disney+ and knew the entire soundtrack; Andrei went into the show blindly, only remembering bits and pieces from the songs that you played around him. Seeing Hamilton live on Broadway was a great experience that you both enjoyed. You and Andrei got to see New York City in a different light; you got to explore more of the city that you longed to call home and Andrei got to see more of the city as a true tourist. This entire trip was something that you both would forever cherish.
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Summer
Not long after you left New York, you went to Russia for the first time to meet and spend time with his family and friends and to see the place that made Andrei into the man that you love. You learned more about Russian culture, Andrei’s childhood, and even was a guest at his cousin’s wedding. Andrei’s friends and family approved of you as a person and they liked you with him; they could all tell how truly in love you were with each other. You also spent some time together in Turkey and around Europe for some much-needed relaxation; you got to see the beautiful blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea in Greece, eat authentic handmade pasta in Italy, and kiss your lover in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
Traveling around with Andrei made you feel like you were the protagonist of a great summer read. Speaking of reading, Andrei still maintained his goal of reading more books, reading just about anything and everything, and even started to recommend things for you to read. Before you would fall asleep at night, you would share with each other a fact or synopsis of something that you read that day.
While Andrei was occupied with his off-season training during the day, you applied for publishing jobs, presented your finally completed manuscript to several literary agents, and ended up securing one. It was relieving to officially have a literary agent to represent you but the next biggest hurdle was the painstaking editing process and waiting for your work to be picked up by the right publisher.
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Fall
After the bliss of the off-season ended, it was time for the hustle and bustle of your teaching job and hockey season to return. About 2 weeks before preseason started, you and Andrei moved in together. It was exciting to get to live with your lover and spend even more time (whenever you could) with him. It was also nice that you got to add your style to the place and make it your own; having a home also meant that you could host your friends, Andrei’s teammates, and sometimes family for holidays and events and create more cherished memories together. Being a hopeless romantic who loved romance novels, you had always wondered who would be the man to sweep you off your feet but you sort of already knew that man was Andrei.
A fun memory that you made together was the Sunday before the season opener, you and Andrei took a trip to a local corn maze with a pumpkin patch to take cute couple photos together and to also check it out. These photos would be added into some of the new picture frames and a scrapbook of memories in your shared home. The photographer did an excellent job, capturing the love that flowed between you in still moments. For the rest of your time, you wandered around the corn maze, hand-in-hand, with your lovely boyfriend. The infamous oak trees in Raleigh began to shed their leaves and the year began inching closer and closer towards the end.
————————————————————
Winter part 2
One snowy morning, you got an email from McGraw Hill, offering you a job as an educational copy editor in their NYC office. You couldn’t believe it, you were on the path of working at a publisher and hopefully, one day getting your book published; all that you had been working so hard for was starting to pay off in tremendous ways. The only issue that was concerning you was breaking the news to Andrei. You knew he would be happy for you but you also knew what the next steps were. You tried to hold in your tears but after practice, Andrei came home to you crying. He immediately dropped his stuff and concerningly asked you what was wrong. You explained to Andrei that you were crying joyfully over the news you received. Words couldn’t describe how proud Andrei was for you so he picked you up and spun you around in happiness.
“I’m so proud of you, my love,” Andrei repeated as he peppered kisses around your face.
He was truly proud of you but the ecstasy of the good news came with the most painful come down. Andrei didn’t want you to move to New York but he had already known for a while that you wanted to leave. He did try to convince you to stay and he hoped for months that you would change your mind but you didn’t so he helped you pack some of your things. Andrei couldn’t help you move up there so he entrusted Nykki, Martin Necas’ girlfriend, to help you settle into your new home and life, more than 500 miles away from the address you once shared.
You and Andrei did try dating long distance but your relationship unfortunately didn’t last very long. Between the responsibilities of your new job, revising over your manuscript, trying to get your book published somewhere, and Andrei’s hectic hockey schedule, you began to drift apart from each other and the physical distance between you didn’t help either. You enjoyed living in New York and you did miss each other from time to time but Andrei knew it would be unfair to ask you to give up on your dreams to come back to Raleigh and be with him. Despite not dating anymore, you and Andrei talked occasionally but not as frequently as it was when you first met and still remained friends. It was okay that the relationship had run its course because it taught you both a lot about love. Andrei came into your life for a season and those seasons you shared together were full of so much undeniable light and love. The love that you shared was different from the romance novels you read but your relationship wrote its own beautiful story.
————————————————————
Epilogue
Before catching his flight to Miami for the NHL All-Star break, Andrei went into the bookstore at Raleigh-Durham International Airport to look for a book to read on his flight. In the book section, he spotted Seasons of Love, written by you with a New York Times Bestseller sticker on the cover. Over the years, Andrei had heard some things about your novel in passing but he purposely avoided reading the book because the breakup was a bit painful for him. After you achieved getting your book published, you wanted to send Andrei a signed copy but decided against it because you weren’t sure if he would actually read the story and didn’t want to come across as pretentious either. He debated back and forth about getting the book before finally asking a store employee about their opinion about it.
“I read that one. It’s a fictional story but I heard it’s loosely based on a true story about the author’s relationship with some cool guy. It’s a super good read if you like romance," said the store employee.
Hearing what the store employee said about your book made Andrei’s heart warm a little and he purchased it as his read for his trip. After returning back to Raleigh, conveniently, there was a book signing by a familiar author at a local Barnes and Noble that Andrei decided to attend. Although Andrei didn’t get his happy ending with you in real life, you sure gave him one with the words that you wrote on the page.
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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years
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Late Night Revelations
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Summary:You and your husband had never really discussed children, not after what happened with his son, Jacob. But when you find out you’re pregnant, you realize that you don’t really have a choice. Andy Barber x Black Reader
*Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Daddy Kink, Nervous Reader, Confident Reader, Angry Andy, Scared Andy, Spanking (mentioned), Mentions of Grief, Pregnancy Reveal, Happiness, Smut (implied), Minors DNI
A/N: Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. As always, I’d love your feedback, so please let me know what you think. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.
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You were parked in front of CVS sitting in your car, staring down at your phone. Andy was calling. Again. You let it go to voicemail. 
Andy Bear: Y/N, this isn’t funny. Where the fuck are you?
Andy Bear: Why aren’t you answering?
It was after 10:00pm and your husband was understandably very worried. But you weren’t ready to talk to him yet. You didn’t know what to say. Your gaze strays over to the bag resting on your passenger seat. And then your hand goes to your belly. 
In that bag were seven tests. All different brands. Because you had wanted to be sure. And they all said the same thing. 
Pregnant. You were pregnant. And you didn’t know how to feel about that particular revelation.
Ugh! Andy, not now! You think when you see his name appear for the umpteenth time. I’m having a crisis! So you shoot your husband a quick text.
You: I’ll be home soon. I promise.
Andy Bear: I need you to answer your damn phone and tell me where you are. Now. 
You shake your head and do something Andy hates. You turn off your phone. Putting the car in drive you peel out of the lot and head over to a little diner that you like, in need of a burger and fries. But mostly, you needed to think.
You didn’t know how Andy was going to react to this news. Even though you loved each other to distraction, the two of you had never really discussed having children. You knew he’d lost a child before, so the real question was whether or not he’d be willing to try his hand at doing this all over again. He didn’t mention Jacob often, but when he did there was a sadness that crept over him…so you had always skirted around the issue. 
And that had been a mistake. 
Your hand goes to your belly again. It was too soon for you to feel your little jellybean move, but you could’ve sworn that you felt a flutter. And that’s when you knew that you would do this. You could do this, with or without the man you loved. 
It would be hard, and it would break your heart if Andy wasn’t on board with your pregnancy. But you also wouldn’t try to force him to do something that was too painful for him. And you also knew that you would sacrifice anything for your child. Even love.
You take your time at the diner as you nibble on your food. If you knew your husband, and you did, you were pretty sure he was livid right now. You were for sure in for it when you got home. With a sigh, you pay your check and leave. 
It was time to go home and face the music. And by music, you meant an irate Andy Barber.
The moment you pull into the garage the door to the house is violently wrenched open. A disheveled Andy stands in the entryway. His tie is undone, his shirt is untucked, and his hair is all mussed. You can tell he’s been panicking. Your poor man.
You make sure to grab your purse and CVS bag before exiting your vehicle, still not sure of what you were going to say. 
“It is 11:15pm.” He growls. “Where the hell have you been? And why the fuck did you turn off your phone?”
“Driving around.” You mumble with a shrug as you try to brush past him. He grabs your arm, jerking you backwards. 
“Who the fuck were you with?” He scrubs a large hand over his bearded face.
“No one, Andrew. Now please let me go.” To your surprise he does.
“I’m going to ask you again.” Andy snarls at your back as you make your way into the kitchen. “Who the fuck were you with? I know it wasn’t Sarah, or Rachel, or Nicole, or Michelle. Because I called them. And you weren’t at Jenna and Marshall’s place, because I called them too. So I’m going to need you to start fucking talking before I lose my mind even more than I already have!” His chest is heaving, his angry breaths coming in quick, hot bursts.
“I was alone, honey.” You tell him as you clutch the drugstore bag to your chest. 
“You were alone this whole time? Right.” He snorts. “What’s his name?”
Fuck. Okay. You think as you try to cling to your very fragile little bit of patience. If the roles were reversed maybe you would be thinking along those same ridiculous lines.   
“Will you tell me his name if I promise not to kill him?” His fist slams down on the table. “Fuck, I can’t keep that promise.” He mutters. Guess it’s nice to know that your man was willing to go to prison over you. Maybe.
“Andy, sweetheart, if you just give me a moment to compose myself I will explain. Alright?” He crosses his arms as he stares you down with murderous intent in his eyes.
“Divorce isn’t an option, Y/N. Whatever’s wrong, we can work it out.” He hisses, making you roll your eyes. “Roll your fucking eyes again and see what happens. As soon as I calm down, I’m going to fire that ass up. Do you hear me?” You gulp at his words
“I would never cheat on you. I get that you’re worried. And angry.” Andy’s right palm twitches. That was his spanking hand. “Okay, very angry.”
He moves towards you. His hands go to your much smaller biceps and he gives you a light shake. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? How scared I was? You ignored my texts, my calls. You shoot me a vague message saying “be home soon” and then turn off your phone. You do not fucking do that, baby. I am fucking pissed right now.”
“Andy, I understand. And I’m sorry. But I just needed to think. And I needed to do it alone.”
“You needed to think?” He growls as he shakes you again. “Do you know how many rooms we have in this house? You mean to tell me that you couldn’t have done all of your so-called thinking here? At home. Where I know you’re safe?”
“No, honey, I couldn’t. Because I had some very important decisions to make.”
“Divorce isn’t -”
“Hopefully it’s not.” Andy’s eyes flare at your words. There’s a wild look in his stormy blue eyes. “But hold that thought for a moment, okay?” Without further ado, you thrust the bag you’ve been clutching against his broad chest. “Look inside.”
Your bottom lip begins to quiver as he opens the bag. You watch with bated breath as he pulls out the first test. 
“Two lines.” He murmurs as he pulls out another one. “Two lines.” He says again. “Two lines.”
“Yes, Andy. Two lines. I’m sorry this isn’t more romantic but -”
“You’re pregnant.” He finishes for you. “Where’d you take these?”
“In a dimly lit CVS bathroom.” You whisper. You watch in horror as your big man backs away from you and slowly sinks to the floor, resting his head against the wall.
“You’re pregnant. With my baby.” 
“Yes, your baby. You even attempt to question that and I will slug you in the damned jaw.” You adored him, but he had better not even go there.
Your husband buries his face in his hands as he struggles to get his breathing under control. And then you hear what sounds like a muffled sob. Oh no.
“Andy…I know…with what happened…ahh shit. If you can’t do this, or if you don’t want to…if it’s too much, part of me understands. I won’t force you. But I want this baby, okay?”
He looks up at you with tears in his eyes. “Tonight I thought you were with someone else. I thought you wanted to leave me. And then you give me this?” He waves a test in the air. “You come to me with a fucking gift? Giving me another goddamned chance to do this, and do it right?”
“Oh, baby…oh honey.” You drop to your knees in front of him and wrap your arms around him.”You didn’t do anything wrong the first go-round. Sometimes life is just a bitch, baby. And unfortunately, you got the shitty end of the stick. But you didn’t deserve that. And neither did Jacob.” Andy softly sobs into your shoulder. 
“You and I are about to start a brand new adventure together.” You gingerly rub his back, trying to soothe him. “Do you want that?”
“More than anything.” His arms go around you, practically squeezing the breath from your body. “More than words can say. You’re really gonna make me a Daddy again?” 
“I’m going to do my best.” You pull away, using your sleeve to wipe at his tears. Sweet man. “But Andy, you never stopped being a Daddy. You’ll always be Jacob’s father. And maybe we should talk about him more. And on top of that, you’re my Daddy. Two different things, I know. But I need you. And this little jellybean that is apparently growing in my belly needs you too.”
“I’m gonna be here, baby. For everything. Every moment, every ultrasound, every fucking craving. Whatever you want, you get.” He vehemently swears before he kisses your lips, letting his tongue mingle with yours. “God, I fucking love the shit out of you. I’m sorry I accused you of cheating. I was scared, baby. And, on some level, I get why you were scared too.”
You sniffle, kissing him again. “But young lady, I really wish you would have brought those tests home and taken them here. I would have waited with you. I hate that you thought you had to do it alone.” Suddenly he’s on top of you, pinning you to the floor.
“You’re not alone with me, baby. Ever. What did I tell you that one time you faced down that racist asshole, Jeffries, without me?”
Your hands go to his ass, giving it a playful squeeze. “That we are forever partners. And we are. But Andy, I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too, Y/N. But we’ve got this, I know we do. We’re going to have a baby, a fucking baby who is fierce and smart and strong…just like his or her Mama.” He kisses your nose. 
You sniffle again. “I hope he or she is like you, Andy. Strong and calculating and dynamic…just like their Daddy.”
“They’re going to be a combination of both of us, sweetheart.” He breathes out a heavy sigh. “God help the world.”
“They’re doomed.” You whisper as you capture his mouth again. “Our baby is going to set this world on fire.” You stroke your hand through his tawny locks. “I need you, Andy. I need you to take me. Make love to me. Please.” He nibbles at your neck.
“I need to fuck me before I get fat and start to waddle.” Now that makes him laugh. 
“I cannot fucking wait until you start to waddle. Oh my god, we need to schedule a doctor’s appointment for you. We need to make sure everything’s okay with you and the baby. You need vitamins. And no more coffee, or sushi, or -”
You cover his mouth with your hand. “Andy. Slow down, big guy. We’ll get to all that, okay? What matters right now is that I love you. Desperately.”
“I love you two, my sweet, sweet baby girl.” Your husband responds in earnest.
“Good.” You tickle his ears. “But right now, I’m desperate for you to fuck me. Right here. Right now.”
“Like I said. What my girl wants, she gets.” He murmurs as he begins tearing at your clothes.
“I’m going to give you and our baby the world. You have my word. Now lay back and enjoy how I fuck my sweet little pussy.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Your purr. 
“That’s my good girl.”
END
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arkhamknightz · 1 year
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DELICATE
summary: after an ongoing online scandal, you come out with a new album. during an interview, you talk about your inspo :)
warnings: this fic is an excuse to write this fic again that i made for joe since i wrote it months ago and for evan instead with reputation since i think its one of the best albums ever made! link to actual genius article for everyone :)
GENUIS!
“Three years after the release of their 2014 album, and following several public spats with celebrities, Y/N Y/L/N aims to clear their name and inaccurate public image on Reputation. At a fan event that took place in June 2018, Y/L/N described the record as a story of “finding love throughout all the noise,” referring to how the album transitions from discussing her persona to falling in love with American actor Evan Peters.”
*VIDEO STARTS*
“Is this thing on?” you looked at the camera crew and laughed as they held up a thumbs up. “Hi! Im Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here with Genius and I’m here to talk about my new album, reputation.” you smiled at the camera. Evan, sitting alongside the crew, read out the cards they had handed him. “So, how many tracks are on the album?” he asked. “Well, theres fifteen tracks” “Can you list them out for us?” he smiled warmly.
“The album starts off with Ready For It, End Game featuring Ed Sheeran and Future, I Did Something Bad, Don’t Blame Me, Delicate, Look What You Made Me Do, So It Goes, Gorgeous, King Of My Heart, Dancing With Our Hands Tied, Dress, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Call It What You Want, and the album ends with New Years Day.” Evan softly smiled, reading off the next card. “Is there anything you can tell us about each track?”
You laughed softly, “So, Ready for it is pretty much just diving into what the rest of the albums gonna be like, referencing past songs, kinda lightly digging into the whole situations thats been happening for a while.” you quickly moved onto the next track.
“End Game is just about my reputation and how this effected my outside relationships. I did something bad is pretty much about the same thing, but its a more direct approach.” You took a glance over at Evan, a small smile painted across his face as you carefully explained each track.
"Delicate is about my current relationship, as is Don't Blame Me, I'd definitely say it's one of my more vulnerable tracks." You smiled at Evan, who was already smiling as you started explaining. "My reputation wasn't the best when we first met, which obviously lead to me questioning a lot of it at the start. I didn't think someone could love me in the way he does after everything was going down, it felt like the whole internet was against me but he loved me for who I am and not who I was painted out to be."
As you finished going through each track Evan's smile only grew wider. "What's your favourite track off the album?" You clapped excitedly before speaking. "That's a really hard one but right now I'd have to say either New Year's Day or Dress, both songs are special in terms of relationships." "Do you have a favorite lyric from them?"
You nodded, "For Dress I'd have to say the bridge-" You watched as Evan looked down and smiled before looking back up at you. "Because it really touches on another vulnerable thought I had for a long time. He saw the best in me in my worst time. And for New Years Day probably the bridge as-well for the same reason.
Evan carried on the interview, you wandered questions about the album before closing off. "Well, I'm Y/N Y/L/N and this was my genius interview! Make sure to listen to Reputation on all platforms." You waved at the camera with a small smile on your face before they cut.
You stood up from your chair as the crew around you started speaking. You walked over to Evan who had put the cards down and opened his arms for you to walk into. You wrapped your arms around him as he gently kissed your forehead. "So I'm your muse hmm?" You let out a laugh and nodded before gently kissing him letting out a soft 'mmhm' You looked at him before slightly tearing up. "Thank you for loving me" He smiled softly before tightening his grip on your waist, "I'll love you for the rest of my life."
A/N: hi friends! I decided to finish this because after hearing delicate live and seeing this in my drafts I needed to finish this so badly.. live laugh love taylor swift!
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daughterofstories · 8 days
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Hi, @theabigailthorn. After you posted your video "Why We Can't Build Better Cities," I sent you a comment about something that you said. I understand that this was an extremely busy time for you, and you may not have been able to give it much attention. I will concede that it was a very long comment, and probably seemed like I was focusing on a very minor point.
But while it was only a brief point in the video, it seemed to play into a disturbing pattern across leftist spaces over the past several months. So I am reposting the comment on my blog and tagging you in hopes that you will see it and assure me and others like me that your content is still safe for us.
First of all, I want to tell you how much I enjoyed your most recent video, and indeed, all of your videos, and how excited I am to see what you’re working on for the rest of the year. The discussion of phantasms is especially welcome given how much I have seen this sort of behavior, especially in the past months, and how hopeless dealing with it can make me feel.
I do, however, have to push back on one of your examples: David Collier’s tweet, which you discussed at 40:22.
You argued that his claims are obviously not literally true, unless he has some truly extraordinary evidence. I contend that, while he did not include the evidence of his claims in this specific tweet, it very much does exist.
First, let’s define exactly what Collier is arguing:
Hamas is operating out of the hospitals in Gaza, and have been for decades. (Note: conducting military operations out of hospitals is a war crime that compromises the hospital’s status as a safe zone in war.)
MSF and other NGOs are aware of this, and have been for decades.
MSF and other NGOs refuse to call out this behavior, and even knowingly repeat Hamas misinformation, propaganda, and lies
In doing so, they essentially act as Hamas agents.
They therefore enable Hamas terrorists attacks, up to and including October 7
These are very much extraordinary claims which require extraordinary evidence, so let’s examine the evidence, one claim at a time.
Hamas is operating out of the hospitals in Gaza, and have been for decades. 
Here is an article in which a freed hostage says that she was mostly held in Nassar hospital, along with many other hostages. While some did receive medical care during this time, that was not the reason they were in the hospital. The building was being used as a prison.
Other evidence has been produced as well, including security tapes of hostages being dragged through the halls of hospitals with their hands bound and weapons stored in hospitals.
As for this being an ongoing practice, here is an Amnesty International report from 2015. https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2015/05/gaza-palestinians-tortured-summarily-killed-by-hamas-forces-during-2014-conflict/
It’s a difficult read containing somewhat graphic descriptions of torture, but if you scroll down to the bolded text which begins “By failing to halt such grave violations,” the next paragraph reports that “some were interrogated and tortured or otherwise ill-treated in a disused outpatient’s clinic within the grounds of Gaza City’s main al-Shifa hospital.”
MSF and other NGOs are aware of this, and have been for decades.
Given that the AI article was published in 2015, it is fair to say that those organizations working in Gaza were aware of this behavior for at least nine years, even if “decades” is an exaggeration. Moreover, MSF doctors have worked in Nassr hospital since Oct 7. It is therefore a near certainty that, at the very least, they were aware that there were parts of the hospital being guarded by armed Hamas militants and chose not to ask what was happening in those rooms.
MSF and other NGOs refuse to call out this behavior, and even knowingly repeats Hamas misinformation, propaganda, and lies
While the Hamas use of hospitals has been publicly available information for nearly a decade, it is not necessarily well known information, especially among those who have only become tuned in to the conflict during the current war.
But this information is crucial to discussions of the current war. According to international treaties regarding war, it is illegal to deliberately attack hospitals. However, it is also against these treaties to use hospitals for war purposes; that is, to coordinate military operations out of a hospital, to store weapons or other military resources in a hospital, or for soldiers/militants to be in the hospital for reasons other than receiving medical treatment. If this strict barrier is violated, and the hospital is used for military purposes, the hospital loses its protected status and can be attacked without violating the treaty.
Now, let’s look at the MSF statement regarding Nassar hospital, published February 20 (yes, this statement is from after Collier’s tweet, but it is part of a pattern of behavior that existed beforehand.)
MSF speaks repeatedly of “Israeli forces” and “Israeli officials” and demands that they cease “attacks on medical facilities”, but it does not name Hamas at all, nor does it call on Hamas to cease using hospitals for military purposes. The statement thus gives the impression that Israel’s attacks on hospitals are unprovoked and Israel bears the sole responsibility to stop involving hospitals in the fighting, despite being put out a full month after the AP report that kidnapped Israeli civilians were imprisoned in that very hospital.
In doing so, they essentially act as Hamas agents.
They therefore enable Hamas terrorists attacks, up to and including October 7
These points are more extrapolations from the previous claims than statements of fact which can be proven or disproven, but given that Collier was discussing MSF and other NGOs, it is worth bringing up UNRWA.
Israel has accused 12 members of UNRWA of participating in the October 7 attack, and hundreds more of being active militants in Hamas or other groups. While the evidence for these claims has not been released publicly, it was provided to other countries, and many found it credible enough to suspend funding to UNRWA. 
Later, the IDF found a Hamas base directly under a major UNRWA building with power and phone lines which ran through the UNRWA building, and brought several journalists to see it.
www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/hamas-had-command-tunnel-under-un-gaza-hq-israeli-military-says-2024-02-10/
This is on top of many other long standing issues with UNRWA.
Collier’s tweet, as with everything surrounding Israel and Palestine, is complicated. Even when hospitals and medical organizations lose their protected status, attacking armies still have a duty to reduce the harm to civilians as much as possible, without compromising legitimate military objectives, and to weigh those objectives against the civilian casualties that cannot be prevented. One could very much argue about the extent to which the IDF has done so.
One could also argue whether MSF’s failure to call out Hamas usage of hospitals is truly enough to say that they enable Hamas’ crimes, and the degree to which UNRWA is compromised does not mean MSF is similarly compromised.
But saying that Collier’s conclusion is a phantasm; that the connection between MSF and Hamas is purely emotional and meant to justify entirely unjustifiable crimes? Particularly given that the accusations he was responding to did not involve military operations in hospitals, but the destruction of empty vehicles?
The question of NGO complicity with Hamas is a very real and ongoing problem in this comment, and ignoring that suggests the same conclusion as the MSF statement regarding Nassar hospital: That the IDF is not an army facing an extremely difficult situation whose specific actions can and should be scrutinized, but a group of thugs attacking NGOs for no better reason than that they are in the way.
I don’t mean to accuse you of anything. I have always found your videos to be thoughtful, well researched, and even handed. It is extraordinarily difficult to find accurate information on this conflict, given the massive amount of misinformation being spread. Even those sources which would ordinarily be highly reliable often have extreme biases against Israel which, while well-documented, are not common knowledge among those who have not been actively tuned in to the conflict for years.
(I consider this article on the Durban conference of 2001 required reading.)
https://www.jstor.org/stable/25659754?read-now=1&oauth_data=eyJlbWFpbCI6Indpbmd3cml0ZXIxNkBnbWFpbC5jb20iLCJpbnN0aXR1dGlvbklkcyI6W10sInByb3ZpZGVyIjoiZ29vZ2xlIn0&seq=4#page_scan_tab_contents
But it is for precisely this reason that I find it so important to address misrepresentations, especially when they come from one such as yourself, who I truly believe (and desperately hope) acted with the best of intentions and will fully consider the sources I have provided.
Antisemitism has been on the rise for years, but it has skyrocketed since October. Jews around the world have been harrassed, denied health care, and even killed. A community center was recently burned down. People are openly compiling lists of “Zionists” and indicating that they intend to make these lists publicly available. And we have seen over and over that so much as mentioning the horrors of October 7 can make a person a Zionist according to those making such lists, so long as that person is a Jew. A major driving force behind this rising violence has been the abundant misinformation we have seen regarding the Israel/Hamas war and the pattern of accusing any Jew attempting to correct misinformation of supporting genocide.
At the same time, Jews who mention the rise in antisemitism, and the antisemitism and anti-Israel bias we have consistently seen from NGOs and international organizations, to such a degree that the UN waited over a month before condemning the sexual violence of October 7 and the Red Cross has repeatedly failed the hostages in horrifying ways, we are consistently told that we are, at best, being paranoid, and at worst, lying to justify the unjustifiable.
And rather than standing against antisemitism, leftists have been a primary source of it. One after another, prominent leftist voices have begun sprouting the same rhetoric that is being used to frame Jewish people and Jewish communities as undeserving of safety. I am begging you not to become one more.
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sentimental-idiot25 · 9 months
Text
{Thank you to @ipostmysimpingstuffanonymouslyfor helping me with the ending <333} {Another Entry for Satoshoko Weekend} "I still don't know what to say to them!" Gojo protested as Shoko grabbed him by the sleeve, trying to coax him out of her apartment room.
"You've met them!" Shoko exclaimed, attempting to tug him towards the sea of people waiting outside. "Three times!"
Gojo stood there, seemingly unaffected by Shoko's full force. "I know, but what if I mess up?" he voiced his concerns, his eyes reflecting a touch of vulnerability.
Shoko let go of his arm, her frustration shifting into amusement. "Are you telling me you're scared of a little human interaction, c'mon now, Satoru," she said, placing her hands on her hips and tilting her head in his direction.
"Don't—" Gojo mockingly mimicked Shoko's movements, placing his hands on his hips as well. "—me! What if I say the wrong thing, and they all start talking shit about me to you? What if they tell you to break up with me?"
Shoko chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of his hair behind his ear. "Yes, because I would leave you based on what they said," she reassured him, her voice softening. She lightly tapped his head before continuing, "Don't be ridiculous. Plus, you owe me for being late."
"Don't be mad at me! Yell at Ichiji. He was driving at the speed limit after I took care of a couple of curses," Gojo retorted, trying to shift the blame away from himself.
"Poor thing—having to deal with you all the time," Shoko remarked, placing her hand on her forehead in mock exasperation. "I would never be able to handle your bull—"
"I think you love handling me," Gojo interrupted, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips as he closed the distance between them, his hands finding their place on her hips. "You know, since everyone is upstairs on the rooftop, we could just stay—"
"Oh no no no," Shoko laughed, wiggling her way out of Satoru's hold. "We have to go up there." She turned around and headed for the door. "Plus, I think my roommate might go home with her boyfriend, or you can take us back to your place."
"Didn't know you wanted me that bad," Satoru quipped, his smile widening as if he had won the argument. Shoko's face dropped, feigning annoyance.
"Hey, I want you that bad, I'll admit it," she finally admitted, unable to contain her laughter as they left her room.
"Yeah, I was always just the second or third tallest in my class," Gojo said, curving his lip downwards, a hint of self-consciousness in his voice.
As they made their way out of the apartment, the distant sound of laughter and chatter grew louder, signaling the lively atmosphere awaiting them on the rooftop. Shoko and Gojo climbed the stairs together, their steps in sync. 
As they approached the group, Gojo's mind raced, searching for the perfect words to say, the right jokes to tell, and the appropriate topics to discuss. He wanted to make a good impression, to fit in seamlessly with Shoko's circle of friends.
Shoko had wandered over to the bar area for some time and when she returned she walked in on an unexpected but rehearsed ongoing joke Gojo had...for the past 5 years.
"No way you're shorter than 6’1 dude!” Shoko's roommate's boyfriend exclaimed in disbelief.
"No, trust me, I'm 5'10"," Gojo reaffirmed, his expression conveying a mix of resignation and humor.
"Babe, aren't you like 6'1"?" Shoko's roommate asked her boyfriend, lightly tapping his arm, seeking confirmation.
"Yeah, of course—" he began to respond but was interrupted by Shoko.
"But how come Gojo is taller than you?" she interjected, curiosity evident in her voice as she glanced briefly at Gojo and gave a silent knowing look 
The crowd of people surrounding them exchanged glances, their interest piqued by the unexpected conversation.
"I think he's lying!" someone chimed in, voicing the skepticism that had started to arise.
"Why would they both lie?" another person wondered aloud, their confusion mirroring the sentiment of the crowd.
Gojo shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Hey, I can't help it if genetics decided to have some fun with me. Height isn't everything, you know."
“Does someone have a ruler?” The roommate’s boyfriend called out. 
“Hey! Remember this is an all-girls apartment…we don’t keep rulers at our bedsides...” Shoko joked as the crowd laughed. 
“But believe me, his parents are both short— I was in shock when I saw how tall he was compared to them.” She said adding to the joke. 
“Pfft whatever,” the boyfriend said as he was he took a gulp of his drink. 
The group dispersed gradually as the conversation moved on. Shoko made her way to Gojo sometime into the party and stood shoulder to shoulder with Gojo. 
 “I can’t believe you remembered that joke,” Gojo whispered amused. 
“It hasn’t been that long…” She said playfully rolling her eyes. 
“Still— love how you still play into it.” 
They both took a sip of their respective drink both alcoholic and for Gojo—Coke.
“Sooo, if you’re 5’10 what does that make me?”
 “Short as hell.” He said without hesitation. 
She playfully nudged him. 
“But I think it’s cute.” He mockingly ducked down to kiss her, “Damn the weather down here is a lot hotter…or maybe it’s you who knows.” He shrugged with a grin as he stood up straight again. 
Shoko chuckled and gently pushed him away. "Oh, so now you're using your height advantage for cheesy pick-up lines? Smooth, Gojo, real smooth." She rolled her eyes with a smirk. 
Gojo grinned mischievously. "Hey, can't blame me for trying. Gotta use all the tools in my arsenal, you know?"
Shoko took another sip of her drink, shaking her head in mock disapproval. "I suppose I can let it slide this time. But don't get too comfortable, mister. You'll have to come up with something better than that if you want to impress me."
Gojo chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Challenge accepted…Just you wait and see. I've got plenty of tricks up my sleeve." He winked.
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vampiremeerkat · 4 months
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I kinda need some advice (if you're comfortable giving), how does one keep their cool/sanity in the hellish atmosphere that is fandom nowadays? I really wanna get back to fanart and stuff as purely a hobby (and it was a huge part of my childhood) but considering how much of a warzone it is nowadays, I dunno if I can. Got anything?
Don't think I'm the right person to ask, I've not had that many entanglements with fellow fans throughout my online career. It's easy to assume that's because my overall viewership/online presence is low, but I've had the occasional semi-viral success and always enjoyed more praise than "criticism". I'd say fandoms in general are lenient and supportive, but every and any kind of community in the world has an insufferable minority. They shout and have alot of time on their hands, making it seem like you're dealing with a crowd, but that's never the case. Even if hundreds of people jump you, billions walk the Earth; it's not even a fraction of a percent you've displeased. But here's an actual answer to your question: In short:
Choose your fandoms wisely.
Don't overstay your welcome by sticking with one.
Don't join any online communities or participate in ongoing discourse. You're only here to draw.
Train yourself to understand that nothing in life fucking matters anyway. :(
In long: I switch my focus alot. If I attract fans of a particular fandom, but the next thing I show off is less likely to tickle their interest, most will leave again, and it's kinda protecting me from growing an unsettlingly invested fanbase. Praise and attention never motivated me to stick around with one series for long, because I know what's waiting around the corner and don't want to be known as "the <insert this one piece of media here> artist", anyway. Look at my nonsense and go away, I just want to die alone! I'm also not active at any online forums and rarely look up and comment on other people's work. Spares you alot of "who asked you"-styled responses. I might've not when I was younger, but agree with the sentiment now. Unless you come across something criminal, why intrude on someone else's fun. Grumble about it on your account if you must, but don't take it to theirs.. even though it's valid to argue that posting something online is an automatic invitation for others to critique it, especially when you don't apply any form of visibility restrictions. I don't really care to discuss ideas with fellow fans. Weird claim, since my Tumblr exists, but I started this account to post Deviantart stuff. People showed up one day and started asking questions about the fandoms I've been involved in (or haven't), but it's not my hobby to get deep about a fictional property. Without getting instigated, anyway. I think about a question's subject as I read the words, do my best to dissect the whole thing and not throw around one-sentence replies, but seldom have the answer ready in my head. The3Eds was the only forum I enjoyed myself at, and the things I talked about over there barely had anything to do with Ed, Edd n Eddy. In the end, no one will be able to offer you one foolproof strategy on this matter. There've been many artists in the past who minded their business and were slaughtered by strangers. You need to be the kind of person who doesn't take online verbal abuse to bed. That's hard to do if you're looking for validation. You could avoid large fandoms that are known to attract the overly defensive and offensive, but if you have to tiptoe through life for others, what's even the point. Know that the internet is a luxury you don't have to participate in. Log off for a week or so if you're feeling down, or alternatively, delete all comment notifications indiscriminately as you keep on doing your thing.. unless you insist on deleting negative comments, but I don't think you should. Why stop people from embarrassing themselves in public. I don't think I've ever deleted comments, unless it's copy-pasted stuff/spam, because what often happens is that the poster regrets and deletes it themselves. I suppose that has value too. Allow that shit to stay alive, so the poster may one day return to it and potentially realise they're better than that. It's easier to keep your calm when you humanize your critics, if you can. The way a person expresses themselves may be trash, but what is it they're saying, and can the reason be empathized with? Sometimes you're dealing with someone who's obviously a child. I struggle to get angry at people under the age of 20. But really -and more importantly- no one should waste their time on fighting fellow fans when it concerns an issue that's objectively not important, you have better things to do. Try to close your eyes for it, it's seldom personal, even if the attacks try to be. People can pretend, but they don't know you and never will.
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wondrouswendy · 2 months
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On Writing and Alan Wake
Talking about my writing is hard. I’m someone who wants to talk about it, but if you asked me to describe my feelings out loud, finding the right words would be difficult.
My current ongoing story, Out of My Hands and Into Your Heart, is finished, and has been for the past few weeks aside from some polishing. I started working on it back in late November. I wrote over half of my 2023 writing goal in one month alone last December. I think a large part of why this happened is because Alan Wake 2 reconfigured my brain and spoke to me on such a deep level as a writer.
With 7 chapters out now, I want to talk about the writing process and what I’m enjoying with my fic so far and why Alan Wake (as a character and as a game) is so meaningful to me.
It’s interesting to write about a writer. Obviously that’s the whole gist of Alan Wake, but I’m writing about a writer discussing the problems of writing and projecting onto his character. The meta layers appeal to me greatly.
First person POV helps me get into Alan’s head so much more (though this is in part due to how often we hear him monologuing in all 3 games). I know for a lot of people first person POV is an immediate turn off when it comes to fic, but more and more I think it deserves a chance with certain characters. To me, it just comes naturally for Alan (and on the flipside, Casey). First person POV is just another tool in the writer's kit.
I knew coming into this idea back in late November I wanted to provide my take on the story prior to the first Alan Wake game and Bright Falls. For Alan to be the man he is, kind of an arrogant asshole who doesn’t treat his wife and others well, I wanted to imagine what could have shaped him. Of course I wanted to have a shipping bent to my story with him and Fictional Alex Casey, so I started crafting my own interpretation of Alan’s narrative arc through the chapters of his life as told through his book publishing. There was one central question on my mind: What led to him wanting to kill off Casey?
...Which meant telling a well-rounded story rooted in canon to a degree. How does his relationship with Alice and Barry evolve over his writing? What highs and lows does Alan experience? How does he go from being a successful author to a shell of himself by the time the writer’s block hits?
So if the spiral is the metaphor for the creative journey of ups and downs, I decided to orient it as the story’s “villain” much earlier in the Alan Wake canon. The enemy in this story is Alan himself.
So I knew going into this Alan would do incredibly selfish and hurtful things—some of which could upset others, such as when Alan goes out on his own and is drugged by a group of so-called fans. No one likes to see their favorite characters doing horribly self-destructive things, but this is the nature of Alan's character and a large part of why I like him. He feels very human and vulnerable.
Amidst all this, the story posed a challenge because I needed to shift between the real and dream worlds so Casey and Alan could interact. The pivotal moment in book four when Casey confronts Alan always served as the signature moment of a character objecting to the whims of their author. On the one hand, I worried about not having Casey appear directly in the story sooner, but on the other hand, I thought it was important to treat the first chapters as a prologue building up to the real action and dynamics of the story: Casey and Alan’s (future romantic) relationship.
Which leads us to what I hope comes across as meaningful, if sad chapter seven. The kiss scene and its followup in Alan’s real world was important to the story, and it was a moment I was looking forward to sharing. Alan’s been carrying feelings for his character since his youth, but after his traumatic experience, he pushes it aside and tries to abide by heternormative ideals.
I chose to go this route based on how Alan behaves in the first Alan Wake game. Some of Alan’s behavior came across as over-inflated machismo, like he’s trying to prove he’s more than just a scrawny, out of shape writer. He gets into fights, he’s aggressive, defensive. I feel like it comes from a very vulnerable place of prior hurt. Alan could have easily been an easy target in his youth for being “too sensitive”, “too emotional”.
Further, Alan’s expectations of the kind of man Casey “should be” and the way Casey has become over the course of being “dimensional” in the context of years of storytelling reflect how sometimes characters take on lives of their own. You subconsciously push a character in one direction without even realizing it. Alan is so close with Casey without realizing the bond goes in the other direction too. A type of codependency where we rely on our fictional fantasies for comfort and support.
For now, that’s all I’ll say about the story. Though there’s only two more published books left, the story is far from over.
If you read this far, thanks for reading this post. I’m really proud of my story and enjoyed writing it. I’m grateful to be able to post something with consistency and reliability for once. I think this story reflects significant growth for me as a writer, breaking new ground with what I’m capable of doing when I’m inspired.
Thanks again to those of you who have read my story, kudos’d, bookmarked, subscribed, commented, reblogged/retweeted my posts. It’s very touching and I appreciate the support! Like Alan, it keeps me out of the Dark Place.
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heyitszev · 2 months
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My Hogwarts Legacy Fanfiction in Reading Order
a note: Sebastian ends up in Azkaban BUT NOT FOR LONG. I do this for narrative purposes and for the themes I cover in my writing. I will not spoil who turns him in (because it's not MC or Ominis). I am very Ministry-critical which is pretty clear in most of my writing. Most of my writing deals with trauma, grief, a lack of a restorative justice/rehabilitation system, and I believe the Relic is cursed. I do not write dark!Sebastian ever.
I write about a kid who becomes a victim of an unforgiving system finding redemption and love within his community, just as we all should.
I try to capture the biggest content struggles in tags, but might miss it. If you're worried about something appearing, please reach out! I'd be happy to warn you ahead of time or suggest that something might not be for you.
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ao3 link || COMPLETE
rating: T
warnings: egg-cracking of a trans character, religious imagery/religious discussion
summary: We know them now as Charlie, the Keeper of the Repository, the Slayer of Ranrok, the Savior of Ancient Magic. But before that, they were known as Charlene, a lonely ward of their Auntie Katherine.
All it took was a single card trick and a bit of punch at the party for Charlene to be thrust into the world they would eventually save.
To be welcomed into a world where magic is just the beginning can be seen as a curse. In this instance, however, for Charlie it is a blessing.
Charlie reckons with the possibility of undergoing the "change"- a simple bit of magic that would give them the body they always felt like they were supposed to have.
This is the story of how Charlene became Charlie Cagney.
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ao3 || COMPLETE || TWO-SHOT
rating: M
warnings: mentions of incarceration and nonconsentual tattooing of a minor, minor in Azkaban, PTSD, death, minor in severe distress (Sebastian is cursed and actively dying during his trial), mentions of curses and cursing.
summary: The Dark Arts leave traces and in its most extreme forms, ask for a debt to be paid. Sebastian stands trial at the Ministry for the murder of Solomon Sallow, and it's revealed that the Relic promised Sebastian little, but asked much.
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ao3 || WHERE I PUT MY AU FLUFF, ONGOING-ISH
pairings: sebastian sallow/m!mc
warnings: animal in distress (horse giving birth), broken arm
summary: After spending a year away to have the Relic's curse removed from him, Sebastian Sallow returns for his seventh year of Hogwarts. Cursed, marked by tattoos from his time in Azkaban, he holds little hope that he can make a new life for himself after all he's done. His hands are cold as a corpse and stained with the blood of his uncle, that is, until Charlie needs his help when a thestral within their vivarium is about to give birth.
In opening up and discussing the past, Sebastian finds that redemption comes in all kinds, and that the same hands that took life can help bring it into the world.
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ao3 link || NOW LIVE!
rating: M
warnings: leroux!phantom inspiration, phantom of the opera (character death by hanging, grooming, etc), cursing, magic with consequences
pairings: sebastian sallow/m!mc, anne sallow/ominis gaunt
summary:
It was believed that after the Keeper, Charlie Cagney, sealed the Repository in the Spring of 1891 that the whole affair was done with.
And yet, soon after the sealing of the Repository reports of a new ghost who refers to herself as "the Specter of Hogwarts" wandering the halls wearing a hood over her face began. Not only that, but she is making written demands to Professor Black. She also writes to Garreth and Leander, the new managers of the now-legalized Crossed Wands, after her demands frustrated Lucan Brattelby to the point of quitting.
It is now 1892, and Sebastian Sallow has returned for his seventh year after having the Relic curse removed thanks to a one Raphael Rakepick. Now he notices things now that he never would have if he had never been cursed. Strange behavior from Charlie, the new Keeper and his best friend, a new mirror in the Undercroft, and something oddly familiar about the Specter, including Ominis discovering that the Specter speaks parseltongue.
All this combined with an International Pageantry Dueling Tournament where Cagney, a newcomer to the art, rises to the top quickly, thanks to a mysterious tutor.
The mystery unfolds as the shadow trio go through their final year at Hogwarts, and Sebastian is at the center of it all.
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ao3 || COMPLETE || ONE-SHOT
warnings: mentions of "demonic possesion", a cursed child (no, not that one), child in distress (but is healed)
summary:
The Muggle Moreau estate is all but deserted due to the news that their youngest daughter, Josephine, has been possessed. Yet every exorcism is unsuccessful, until "Father" Sallow and "Father" Rakepick arrive and claim they are the only people able to help Josephine.
For Sebastian Sallow, healing Josephine helps heal something in him, too.
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ao3 || COMPLETE || MULTI-CHAPTER
pairings: sebastian sallow/m!mc, anne sallow/ominis gaunt
tropes: slow burn, friends to lovers, second chances
rating: M
warnings: body horror, gore, werewolves, anti-werewolf sentiment, similarities to chronic illness, PTSD/CPTSD, mentions to queer and transphobia (compared to anti-werewolf sentiment)
summary:
12 years have passed since the defeat of Ranrok and you, Charlie Cagney, The Keeper of Ancient Magic, have been left to pick up what was left of you following the battle. Embittered, tired, and wishing to be known as something other than "The Savior of Ancient Magic", you settled into Feldcroft to become an expert in beast care. You gave up on speaking with Sebastian Sallow ever again. The only way you know he's alive is when his curse-breaking for an organization called "R" makes the Daily Prophet. You are content to live the rest of your life in solitude, to distance yourself as much as you can from who you were at 15.
Until a horrible accident occurs while Sebastian is breaking a curse in Romania, and you are the only person able to handle his new condition.
Neither of you were who you hoped you would be. But together you start to heal and discover who you could be.
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Text
Tiptapricot again! I’m not the best for giving recs and info on the comics, but can give some trigger warnings on the show and two of the runs I’ve read! This will all b below cut as it’s as in depth as I can do off the top of my head.
This is a long post, but I’ve tried to make it as informative as possible. It lists some heavy stuff! MK fans are welcome to let me know if there’s things they think I should add, and though I say in the post, anyone is welcome to shoot me an ask about specific triggers! There also may be some typos haha so excuse those.
Without further ado, let’s get into it :-)
First up!
The Lemire Run, 2016
This may not be the best run to jump onto as it has a pre-established cast and is highly referential to past MK work, but it was also the first one I read and I still really enjoyed it! As long as you have a general knowledge of the characters from like a quick wiki read, you should be good.
Warnings for: Medical unreality, unreality, psych ward setting, gaslighting, abusive nurses/orderlies and doctors, shock therapy, drugging, death of friends, warped reality, manipulative Khonshu (the god they work for), further unreality/blending of realities between different headmates, mis-naming, car crashes/ship crashes, death of friends again, arrest/police interrogation, institutionalization as a child though not shown graphically, off-page death of father, internalized ableism/belief that to be normal you must not be a system, invalidation of headmates by another headmate, apparent though not actual alter death (they come back triumphantly, they are all ok), talk of brain and mental space/being “broken” as a form of manipulation.
This is the one I sent a propaganda post in about also! It was one of the first really major positive MK explorations (not the first, the 80s run and a handful of others actually have some real good stuff) and while it still has some funky parts, is a really gorgeous and awesome look at them, and again, has one of my favorite characters!
Second!
The MacKay run, 2021
This one’s the currently ongoing comic run! And while there’s less warnings it should be mentioned that since it’s ongoing, my list may become out of date somewhat soon, esp since issue 25 is apparently going to be 70 pages. But it’s a good time to hop on and join!
Warnings include: general monsters and fighting of them, self hate, internalized ableism and force-fronting by Marc/him being frontstuck for a lot of it, regular therapy sessions with Marc and his therapist that, although not manipulative or toxic or abusive like in other runs, are coerced by the avengers due to a previous run where the system basically took stuff over and took down the avengers for Khonshu (this run is referenced a lot), temporary death of main, discussion of gods, faith, and general theology, vomit in the issue 17 fight, racism/cultural appropriation by the character Jack Russel in the annual, forced switch by an outside partner in the annual.
There’s also a general blanket thing that, while MacKay is doing good at a lot, and issues 14/15 specifically have some really good system conversations facilitated by him working with a system for them, he is still not including Steven and Jake as much as he should, and stuff can feel unbalanced/that he’s forgetting about their systemhood sometimes. It’s overall a very solid run so far, but that’s good to be aware of!
And lastly but not leastly!
Moon Knight, 2022 show
The show is 6 episodes long and on Disney+ or u can pirate it (which. Is what I do haha) and these are what I can think of for warnings.
Best to skim beforehand and then peek at each chunk for each ep as you go. Id be able to give times if I was live watching with someone but I hope these cover stuff generally ok, and you can also look up specific stuff if you need, or send me an ask if you watch about a specific moment and I can find the time stamp! My inbox is always open :-)
Disclaimer that the show also has a lot of levity and comedy and calmer moments within everything I’m going to list. These are just the triggers, and since it is a heavy show it will seem dense, but it’s not just hell all the way through.
Ep 1, The Goldfish Problem—At the very beginning there is a scene where glass is put in shoes and stepped on, there is no blood or pain reaction or visuals of the skin, but that is a constant presence in the background for the whole show as the main antagonist is a cult leader who uses it for self flagellation. Lot of sudden and discombobulating switches accompanied by minor flashing, confusion and paranoia as it involves the beginning of system discovery by a headmate who has no idea what’s going on, a generally eerie vibe involving a large bird headed skeleton creature (Khonshu) popping up, voices from indeterminant origin/people seen in mirrors, scene in the mountains involves seeing the cult, and ideas of good and bad and predestined morality, car chase involving car crashes, guns and blood but not really gore or any especially violent ways of taking out bad guys, missing an important event due to amnesia and lost time, apparent stalking by cult and unreliable coworkers, mild panic attack.
Episode 2, Summon The Suit—More of eerie vibe from first ep and more of big bird man and some flashing, uncomfortable firing from job for perceived mental health reasons, headmates arguing, headmate freaking out and jumping to internalized ableism, person who knows one headmate but not ab the system being confused and frustrated/believing the one fronting is putting on an act, police arrest/kidnapping, more of the cult, discussion of eugenics ideology from cult, panic attacks, one use of the word “Psycho” during a joke, headmates arguing worse and lashing out at each other, manipulation by Khonshu, brief use of alcohol in an obviously unhappy state as coping.
Episode 3, The Friendly Type—Sudden and abrupt switches, coming to mid fight/after an adversary has been killed, confusion, non-graphic suicide as form of escape from protags (falling off cliff, body not shown in detail or close up at all), very intense trial scene involving possession by a god, and weaponized ableism and personality language against mains from antag, both demonizing and infantilizing them, somewhat of a breakdown/lashing out from main because of it, another fight at rich guys place involving guns and knives, as well as choking, and impaling of mains, but impalement has no blood or gore shown, the poles r kinda just through them and they’re alright, some more possible flashing triggers at end with sky scene though more mild.
Episode 4, The Tomb—Headmates arguing/tension, choice to pursue relationship action without direct discussion about it, sounds of dissection of human by a monster (dissection is blurred in background and not shown in detail), scary undead creatures coming out of the dark and fighting with a main, emotional manipulation by cult leader, argument with a partner causing a forced switch, intense guilt and mention of believing one should’ve died, main character death, and at very end and also big one for next ep: unreality, medical unreality, psych ward setting, drugging and restraint of patient, gaslighting, feeling like an “it was all a dream” twist (which is proven to be false, the psych ward here is not real and is a construct of the afterlife, but it is a big scare and can be triggering).
Episode 5, Asylum (biggest ones here and very intense episode)—More of same medical unreality and gaslighting by a doctor, on screen drugging of patient/mains with a syringe, forced trauma memory exploration involving static dead bodies, passive suicidal ideation, off screen drowning, off screen sibling/child death, intense verbal abuse from mother, passive father, alcoholic abusive parent, guilty flashback to older Marc the night Khonshu contacted him which involves an attempted suicide (gun put against chin) and manipulation, headmate hitting their head rapidly during a breakdown, physical abuse from parent with belt (action not shown on screen but build up is and there is briefly audio of impacts), headmates arguing, internalized ableism, discovery of being an introject and negative thoughts about “realness” and self as a result, emotionally abusive doctor, parental/abuser death, alcoholism by main, breakdown at funeral, hitting of kippah on ground during breakdown, intense switch in time of distress, apparent alter death (not permanent but is not resolved in this episode).
IT IS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED BY ME TO WATCH EPISODES 5 AND 6 IN THE SAME SITTING OR CLOSE TOGETHER. 5 is really fucking intense, and even while being very well done, it can really fuck up your brain and mental space. Episode 6 is a huge balm onto that and makes me cry every time because of it.
Episode 6, Gods and Monsters—Cult carrying out goals, intense grief from living main, dead bodies talking, brief possession by a god, guilt tripping and trauma leveraging by antag onto mains, sudden switch, brief return of psych ward setting (though in a context of triumphing over it/proving it to be a construct), after credits scene involves abduction of antag from a care facility, and murder.
Also general note that the show is really complicated and nuanced in its rep. It has a lot that’s really good but they also made some mistakes. The term DID/Dissociative Identity Disorder is not said on screen, for example, largely because the system themselves don’t know what’s going on/are dealing with a lot of internalized ableism, however it was still a choice by the writers. Some cast and crew members have also said not great things in interviews, but on the flip side, a lot of them have shown they really care.
Oscar Isaac specifically did a whole lot of research for his roles, and has been very respectful and awesome in interviews and in his pushing for the characters to be given the best they can. There’s a lot of discussion to have around all of it, and a lot they can improve in a season 2 if/when we get it, but it’s still a really complex and empathetic exploration of the system in general.
But also, it may not be for everyone!
I’m a singlet, and I’ve talked and discussed stuff a lot with the groups I’m in including systems in fandom, and there’s a lot in it people connect to, but it also may not be the type of show others want to watch and that’s ok. Rep is so nuanced and complicated especially with something so stigmatized, every step forward doing its best but not always nailing it, that everyone will have their varying relationships to it, and what works for some may not be good for others.
But yeah! I love moon knight a lot, and all of the things recommended here while none are perfect each do really amazing things with their stories, art, and explorations. I hope this can help some people interested in checking them out do so in an informed and safe way. My inbox is open if anyone has questions, and I can also point to some other really cool people in the community for specific discussions, recommendations, and more!
Hope you all have an epic and wonderful day! Good job on a swaggy bracket :-D
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perditious · 2 months
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cw non explicit harassment, trauma refs
got a meeting on monday—which leadership gave a funny name on the schedule, which i do not at this point appreciate—about an ongoing ✨sexual harassment✨thing that’s being uhhh mishandled in the sense of not being handled perceptibly. hence the insomnia, hence the general migraine uptick over the past few weeks while i took forever to write an email, etc etc trauma activation a go go.
and anyway the thing is! meeting is at 8am on monday. so you know someone’s gonna ask how my weekend was.
and like. hand scales.
well coworker. i have two choices here! i can lie. because let’s be real you do not want the actual answer. and i don’t particularly care to give the real answer. AND there’s a high chance that if i seem predisposed a way emotionally that’ll impact you during these here proceedings because feelings can invalidate things if they’re lady feelings.
OR i can be honest about the past 48 hours (plus three weeks, plus a month or two depending on how you count—there was a gap where the instigator was not present so things appeared handled, so i haven’t been Like This the whole time thankfully lol), which has some appeal because high masking is arguably biting me in the ass in this situation. lack of visible cliche lady distress overrides regular reporting on the existence of the same. because the concept of self control or an interior life is very alien i guess idk.
(u may have noticed the femme emotional paradox up there. there is no way to exist in this situation that doesn’t invalidate the experience to someone somewhere, compounded by the fact that i have to argue that the systemic departmental failings making me feel unsafe are the problem i want/need to be handled/discussed here not Gross Conduct As Hurt All Three Of My Ickle Feelings.
fingers crossed that the near-inevitable person who reduces me to an irrational paper doll in this case is not the department head)
i guess i could outline all that—parenthetical aside— briefly and stare into the middle distance while asking about their weekend. if i really feel like being an ass.
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kuronekonerochan · 5 months
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I am a mix of incredulous, fucking enraged and also totally unsurprised with how in the last 3 days I finally see ppl on TV calling out genocide, ethnic cleansing and war crimesgaza as an open air prision and about the illegal colonates and invasions of palestinian territory over the years.
Europe finally came out of their cone of silence to ask for IMMEDIATE pause and humanitary aid. Reporters asked what changed. They said they made multiple appeals for pauses and aid before. NOW they call for an IMMEDIATE pause. Reminder that during the cone of silence phase european leaders and foreign affairs ministers, including Ursula Von der Leyen all got together to talk about AI, the most pressing issue to discuss together during an ongoing genocide (unless it's a Terminator franchise situation).
They ask for it, but not even an economic sanction against Israel. Russia is laughing at Europe making fools of themselves and revealed for the hypoccrites they are by having such double standards.
But the crazy thing is, the politics are finally and slowly turning the tie and yet objectively NOTHING changed. War crimes such as attacking hospitals, genocide, collective punishment, ethnic cleansing, all of it was already there 3 weeks ago. They didn't cross any new lines, they had already bulldozed every international law line long ago.
In a post I made still in October (that I mysteriously cannot find anymore, could be tumblr algorythm acting out or me being dumb or the staff took it down idk) I asked if we had to wait for the civillian ldeaths to reach the million mark for politicians to finally count it as genocide.
And lo and behold, the only thing that changed was the number of innocent children and citizens that kept being murdered adding to the death toll for Europe to ever so slightly change their stance by an inch.
Colour me not surprised that they sat on their asses and watched in complicit silence ad waited around for the deaths of thousands more. There is blood on their hands for every second of the past 3 weeks palestinians died. Literally just watching the death toll rise.
If we were talking about individuals instead of governments, this is akin to watching a murder take place in front of them, having the means to stop the assailant with no greater risk to themselves other than some light scratches (trading and commerce bullshit), not call for EMERGENCY services and then wait watching while the victim bleeds out, until the victim is on the brink of death to finally tap the assailant on the shoulder and timidly ask "Hmm, excuse me, if it's not much trouble, could you perhaps....I mean, only if you want to really...just stop stabbing that person for a second for me to check if they still have vitals? Don't worry, I'm not calling the cops on you, and that doesn't mean you have to stop what you were doing, you can go back to it in a minute...I don't really care, really I just wanna check to see if this is over already so I can move on and go to my date tonight. I went on this app that uses AI to match people. Isn't AI amazing?".
This is the horrific level of indifference our politicians have reached. I apologize for the analogy but this level of apathy if it were 1 person instead of goverments and organizations would be manslaughter. Their actions or in this case innactions lead directly to death. First degree murder for the assailant, manslaughter for the bystander.
And the worst is that even this slight change to a more firm tone in asking for a pause took this long so anything that might actually impact the situation is gonna be delayed as innocents die.
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thelittlestancient · 3 months
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Hephaistos/Themis Cyberpunk AU, 1/?
Releasing this one in very short snippets as I write, as a little brain break from the Big Project. It'll go on AO3 once I have a title and more writing done.
Rating: Explicit Overall Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence. References to past non-consensual sex and pregnancy. Dehumanization of an autonomous, sentient bot character, and ongoing discussion of whether he's sentient enough to be human. Content Warnings for this chapter: Dehumanization of an autonomous, sentient bot character: referred to as 'it' while deactivated. References to offscreen violence and sex. Summary: Disgraced scientist turned bounty salvager Hephaistos finds an expensive, deactivated sexbot in a junkyard, setting off a search for answers about the bot's past that will lead him deeper into the mysteries surrounding his own fall from grace.
Hephaistos doesn't bother knocking--he rarely does, when he comes here, nor does he need to. The sheer size of the taur body forces him to enter through the garage, and the clattering of metal claws on sealed concrete announces his presence long before he can get a word out.
"What have you got for me today?" the chopper asks, peeking out from the front office where he sees most of his various 'clients.'
"Bot," Hephaistos says, laying the twisted and broken bundle down on the worktable. "Expensive one, by the looks of it. Can you fix it?"
Stroking his goatee with one hand, the chopper pokes at the bot with the other. "Limp--rotors are burnt out and will need replacing, it'd be stiff otherwise. Skin--significant damage, but…" He slices off a small square with a knife. "This is a biologic. I can grow more from a small sample in a vat with the right agents. Hmm. Memory chip completely missing. In a bot this complex, sourcing that will be the most difficult part."
"You have one?"
The choppper snorts. "No, which means you have two options. One, I install a simple memory chip and downgrade his processors, and I sell off what he's got now which settles your account. Or else you go find me the parts I need to repair him, I do the work, and your debt remains."
"Him?" Hephaistos asks, curiosity piqued.
"Oh yes, I recognize this model--the base one, at least, though this one's had a number of modifications. Top of the line, virtually indistinguishable from a human. Far more than just a warm bedmate at night. In another life, I'd've paid a small fortune for the privilege of working on one of these."
Hephaistos reaches out, running a finger over one of the bot's delicate, limp hands. "And you can fix him?"
The chopper fixes golden eyes on him. "I'll not tell you lies: he's been hard-used, and he wasn't designed to take that. I make no promises of what state he'll be in, if you choose to reactivate him. But the physical repairs, the mechanicals and the electronics? Oh yes, that I can do."
"…what do you need? Clearly I've more scavenging to do."
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