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#there would be so many interesting results here
State of the Blog Address; originally posted 5/25/24
Back when I started this blog 2011, I had one goal: make a space for myself where I can babble about history in an accessible manner, help the public access history in new ways; and like, maybe one day use it to help myself transition into a professional writing career.
It was all longform posts and independent, specifically researched pieces for this blog, and I loved it. I blew off graduate course work to write material for this blog. It helped me to become the writer and public historian that I am today; you all helped me become the writer and public historian that I am today.
The flip side of this is, that as my career as a Public Historian takes off in a very real way [screaming], the time and attention I used to put into my longform posts is now directed towards endeavors that I get paid for. Namely, my freelance researcher position for Bailey Sarian's Dark History podcast/youtube series, and my writing career; my agent and I are talking about second, third projects (I'm still broke lmao but I'm getting to a place where actual Real Money is lurking in the near future).
I have no plans to abandon this blog. I grew up here (speaking in a nonliteral, emotional/intellectual/schmoopy sense), but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to revert to my tightly researched, longform pieces created specifically for this blog.
You will still see: medium/long form historically backed posts, usually related to issues of memory construction, or other points of historiography; quotes I find meaningful; short posts about something I'm learning about; shitposting; and stuff about writing and tradpub for interested parties.
That's what I am. Here's what I'm not:
I'm not turning into an I/P Discourse blog; there are posts here about that issue because the discourse has turned anti-Semitic in a. historically recognizable ways, which, b. people on tumblr have decided to pollute my space with.
I'm also not the supreme arbiter of what is and is not genocide, and I never will be. I am a Holocaust historian. I know how to identify the signs indicating that a state might shortly turn genocidal, and how to use my skillset as a historian to analyze past events and make an informed opinion as to whether or not those constituted genocide. But I am not an international human rights attorney, I am not a war correspondent, and my status as a Holocaust historian does not qualify me to act as one. Since October 7, I have made plenty of posts here for people looking for those resources, you can find them very easily if you can spare literally ten minutes to browse my archive.
I would rather have people here accuse me of being a brainwashed Zionist apartheid international banker Jew who humps the Israeli flag daily basis than make a call I'm not qualified to make, on a situation I have (very intentionally) not been following closely. Because said situation is PROFOUNDLY DISTRESSING and I have a low bandwidth for intellectual engagement with contemporary human suffering rn. If you don't like that, you're free to send me money so I can afford to see a therapist for the secondary-trauma I have developed as a result of my work; secondary trauma is EXTREMELY common among military historians, genocide historians/scholars, and historians who focus on other forms of violence and MANY of us actively choose not to engage with the 24/7 news cycle as a direct result.
Finally, I am not an expert on Modern Middle Eastern history. I have friends who are, and I've read enough and learned enough from them (and some of you!) to be able to understand exactly how little I know. If you ask for my takes, they will always be grounded (historiographically) in the field of Modern Jewish History. Because that is my field. I have some titles in the (ten year-old wtf) I/P reading list, but that is it.
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hellfirenacht · 13 hours
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Wing Man 11
Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.
Chapter Summary: Steve talks shit. Paige and Eddie talk business.
5.2k words
(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10)
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Working for Family Video came with many upsides, especially when you worked with people who you also enjoyed seeing outside of the store. Rentals were already dirt cheap with your employee discount, and near expired candy and popcorn never quite made it into the dumpster out back and somehow magically appeared in your bag instead at the end of your shift. 
You always liked to think that Family Video was sponsoring your bi-monthly movie nights with Steve and Robin. The Harrington household was always the meeting spot, as he was the only one who had a tv and VCR in his room. Well, you did as well now after Keith had tossed out an old player, saying it was broken. You’d brought it home to tinker with and found that some kid had stuck gum in the tape slot. It had taken you a week to clean and another month to figure out how to hook everything back up, but it was yours. Steve still had the nicer home and tv though, and more importantly his parents bought brand name snacks. 
The three of you were in Steve’s living room, the movie playing on the screen long forgotten as the three of you caught up with each other. Robin was usually the barometer for if a movie was worth watching, she and Steve might have had very different tastes, but Steve would usually get sucked up into whatever movie she chose. 
“So is his band any good?” Robin asked, dumping a bag of m&ms into her bowl of popcorn. 
“I think so.” you shrugged, cracking open a drink. “If anything, they’re good enough to be scouted twice.”
“By the same person.” Steve pointed out. “You know, his ex.” 
You had brought the news of Eddie’s meet up with Paige to your friends with mixed results. Robin seemed indifferent, but that’s because most of the time she didn’t have the same interest in talking about boys. Steve, however, seemed less than thrilled about this idea. 
“Yes, Steve, his ex. As in, not together anymore.” you sighed, wishing you felt as confident as you sounded. “Whatever happened between them sounded like it blew up for both of them.”
“But she still wants to have lunch with him!” Steve said. 
“Yes, to talk about the band!” you shot back. “And it’s lunch. Didn’t you tell me that dinner is a date and lunch is just two people hanging out?” 
“Since when does my advice apply to you or Eddie?”
“Since Paige isn’t me or Eddie, so your dating advice might actually apply here.” you snapped and took a breath. “Sorry. This is all new to me. I’m really not sure how I’m supposed to feel right now. It’s like every time things start to go well with me and Eddie, something happens. Paige, Chris, you-”
“Hey-”
“I like him a lot.” You leaned back against the couch, grabbing the popcorn bowl from Robin. “When I’m with him, I get that same feeling that I do when I’m hanging out with you two or when I’m at the show every month. I don’t feel like I’m hiding myself when he’s around.”
“There are other weirdos and freaks around.” Steve pointed out. “If I had known there were that many of you around, I would have agreed to go to the show earlier to help you get phone numbers.” 
“Yeah, but have you seen the way she looks when she’s talking about Eddie?” Robin hopped into the conversation. “I don’t think anyone even existed to her that night.”
It was true, no one other than your friends and (unfortunately) Chris had truly registered to you at the show. Yeah, you’d noticed the few cast members but they weren’t the metal head with the long hair and crop top that had held your hand all night.
“Oh shit, did I tell you guys that we ran into Chris?!” You asked suddenly, changing the subject. 
“Wait, that guy you and Eddie kept talking shit about?” Steve turned to look at you, grabbing a handful of popcorn and getting crumbs on the couch.
“Yeah!” you said. “He actually works for the show now, I guess? He said he’s been there for a while and he’s seen me at the show before. It was so fucking weird.”
“Is that the guy who said you were too normal to play with Hellfire?” Robin asked. 
You nodded. “Yeah, and he ran Hellfire into the ground until Eddie took over. And now he’s doing tech for the show. Also, he was Rocky in the shadow cast.”
“The guy in the metallic shorts?!” Steve gawked. 
“Columbia did say that the cast changed for the night.” Robin said, and you gave her a quizzical look, remembering the lipstick mark you’d seen on her jaw that night. “She came by and talked to us before the show!” 
“She couldn’t resist my charm.” Steve gave you a smile that you were sure worked with someone like Nancy Wheeler, or Tammy Thompson. You just shook your head and laughed. 
“Right, anyway. Chris came and talked to us after the show and he told me auditions are gonna be open for the cast. He gave me his card, and told me that it was invite only.” you explained.
“You’ve been talking about wanting to be part of that since we started working together.” Steve said. 
“Yeah, I guess I get a shot to do something, too.” 
“Chris turned you down for Hellfire, and now is letting you audition?” Robin asked. 
“We aren’t in school anymore.” you pointed out. “I know how it sounds, but none of us are the same people we were back then. I’m not the same person I was two years ago, none of us are.”
“I hate it when you’re right, you know.” 
“I’m just saying that if I can give you the benefit of the doubt and make friends with you then maybe Chris isn’t as big of a prick as he was back then. I might not have even given Eddie a chance, either.” You picked out a few m&ms from the popcorn bucket, getting your fingers covered with butter and colored candy coating. “I mean, at the end of the day, isn't that what this whole deal was about? Shaking off old habits and trying to step outside of contentment?”
“I thought your deal was so that you can stop having Steve check you out every time you wanted to rent porn.” Robin snickered. 
“I thought we were just trying to get dates.” Steve looked confused and you gave him a pat on the head. It always amused you how his hair could spring back into place like that.
“That too.” you said. 
“So, you’re really okay with Eddie going to see his ex?” Steve said, forcing you back into that topic. 
”I’m not thrilled about it.” You finally admitted. “But we only went on one date and this might help his band. Besides, if we start... Whatever this is without some sort of trust then is it even worth starting?”
“So you trust him?” 
“I trust you and Dustin, who vouched for him. He was honest enough to tell me that it’s his ex who wants to talk about his band. What happens next is up to him.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Steve relented and his eyes wandered back to the tv. 
You didn’t, but you were tired of letting other people tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. 
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Ever since Benny’s shut down, there wasn’t really any good place to meet up with someone for lunch in town. Every time he had seen Paige before, it had either been at the Hideout, or his van. Neither of which was really a good place to talk about Corroded Coffin. 
It was Paige’s idea to meet at the small hole-in-the-wall pub that was just out of Eddie’s comfort zone in terms of price. Eddie arrived on Saturday afternoon, earlier than he meant to with his nerves. He leaned against the wall outside of the pub, watched the cars go by as he waited for her. 
She didn’t leave him waiting for long, and ten minutes before their agreed upon time, Paige was standing in front of him for the first time in over two years. She hadn’t grown an inch, but her wavy dark hair had, and now barely brushed her shoulders. In the daylight, Eddie could see a faint tint of red that he never noticed before. Other than two or three times, he realized that he and Paige had never spent a lot of time together when the sun was out. Paige’s freckles were as prominent as ever. 
To Eddie’s surprise, she looked happy to see him. 
“Hi, Eddie.” she said, and to his relief she didn’t go in for a hug. 
“Hi, Paige.” He responded and reached over to open the door to the pub for her. 
The two didn’t say anything until they were sitting at a dimly lit booth in the corner, where Paige broke the ice. 
“Before we get into any business talk, I need you to be honest with me.” She started, sitting up straight and looking him in the eyes. “If you care about your future in music, and your band, you need to tell me what happened. Tell me how you ended up in jail two days before the most important moment in either of our careers.” 
Eddie had expected this, and the past week had been spent trying to find a way to spin the story so that he didn’t look like the biggest asshole on the planet. In the end, he decided that he should be honest with her. Paige wanted real, and he would give that to her, tarnish and all.
Someone came by and took their drink orders, giving Eddie a moment to collect his thoughts. 
“I did something stupid.” He started. 
“Obviously.” She gave him a wry smile. 
“Moving to California isn’t cheap.” He watched the tone of his voice, searching for that piece of him that made Hellfire and Corroded Coffin listen to him. Being a dungeon master for so long had given him a way of speaking that could draw someone in when he tried, and right now he knew he needed to try and convince Paige that Corroded Coffin deserved a second chance. “I needed a way to pay for everything that came with moving across country. My dad... he-” Eddie’s voice wavered for a brief moment. “He had an idea to make some quick cash for the two of us. It wasn’t smart, and it really wasn’t legal.”
“Jesus,” Paige sighed, looking at him with a deep frown. “I would have helped you, Eddie. I was already willing to let you live with me for free until we got you set up. I told you that you didn’t have to be alone in this.” 
Asking for and accepting help wasn’t something that Eddie was ever good at. He’d been hyper-independent since he was a child, when his dad would disappear for long stretches of time, even after his mom died. Asking for help after (or especially because) Paige had put in so much money and effort for him already, wasn’t something that he could bring himself to do. 
“I know.” Eddie said. “I had this stupid idea that if I didn’t make the effort on my own, then I didn’t deserve the change. So I did something stupid, really fucking stupid, and it cost me everything.”
“Mark told me that you shot a cop.” Paige said, and before Eddie could speak up, she continued. “I didn’t believe him. When I wired the money, I was able to get an idea of what happened. You saved that guys life.” 
“I couldn’t let him just bleed out on my yard.” Eddie said. “I couldn’t- it wouldn’t be right to run away like that.” 
“You really caused a lot of trouble, you know that?” 
“I know.” Eddie took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. I did a lot of stupid shit I shouldn’t have, and I paid the price. It cost me more than just the audition.”
There was a time between getting the news about his audition with WR Records and the heist that Eddie flew. He had everything he had ever wanted; he got the girl, had his dad back, he had a future, which was something he never thought he’d have. For a few beautiful weeks, he had spiraled up, up, and up. 
In the end though, what goes up must come down. Eddie had reached for something that would never be meant for someone with the last name ‘Munson’. He had crashed back down to earth, to the reality of who he was and it had cost him everything. His dad, his childhood house, his audition, Paige, and even Ronnie for a short time. 
For the next two years, Eddie swore to never even think about reaching for the sun again. 
“Thank you for being honest with me.” Paige said. “I still think you’re an asshole.”
“I was an asshole.” He didn’t even try to fight it. “The biggest one in Hawkins.”
Even with her declaration, Paige still had a look on her face that was the ghost of an expression she had in the passenger side of his van on the night that she had given him the news that WR Records had liked him. 
“Things went downhill for me when you bailed on the audition.” Paige said, and Eddie swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. He had never known what had happened with her after their fight over the phone. “I got in a lot of trouble because of you. Davey doesn’t like anyone, but he liked you. When I couldn’t get you out there, it really screwed up any trust I had with my job.”
She stopped talking for a moment as a waiter came by and dropped off their food. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to touch the overpriced sandwich in front of him yet. His mouth felt dry and he reached for his water instead. 
“I was stuck in a dead end job, where any talent I tried to bring to the label was shot down without being given a chance. I was being paid to do nothing, except babysit the studio and paperwork.  I got demoted, and I was already at the bottom of the totem pole.” Paige never looked away from Eddie, her gaze unflinching and sharp. “I stopped liking music.”
Guilt washed over Eddie, and there was something in him that screamed at him to run away to avoid this. Being the reason someone stopped liking music? He knew he’d fucked up but that... that was something deeper than just missing an audition. 
“They didn’t have the means to really fire me, I hadn’t done anything wrong.” she continued. “They moved me to a smaller label under the WR name. That label was where acts they had given up on went to die.”
“Which label?” Eddie managed to ask, despite how dry his mouth felt. Even the water wasn’t helping. 
“Left Turn Media.” Paige said. 
During those weeks when things had been good between the two of them, Paige had mentioned the label once or twice. It was considered a death sentence to be put on that label, and working for them was WR’s way to get people to quit without firing them. The two had listened to a few cassettes from the label. The bands weren’t bad, and that was what stuck out to Eddie. The music wasn’t bad, but it was clear that the production was lacking and half-assed. Paige said that the music would be sent out to small radio stations to be played in the middle of the night. 
“Shit.” Eddie said. 
“Yeah, shit.” Paige let out a laugh. “But if there’s one thing I am, it’s stubborn. I threw myself into my work. I’ve been spending the last two years breaking down and completely reassembling Left Turn, and now I’m in charge of it.”
“You.” His eyes went wide as he stared at her. “You’re in charge of Left Turn Media.”
“It’s amazing what you can do when you’re pissed and have something to prove.” Paige shrugged. “I had a lot of time to think about my relationship with music in the last few years. I realized if I wanted to bring something real to the music scene of L.A. I was going to have to do it myself.”
Her dark lips curled up into a smile. “I should almost thank you for fucking up. Because you bailed, I was put in charge of a sinking ship. I patched it up with my own time and money and now Left Turn has become the label for all misfit bands who don’t fit any shiny polished label. I proved to myself and everyone around me that I belong in this industry.”
“I-” Eddie wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that. “You’re welcome...?”
“We’re expanding the label outside of California.” She continued. “I’m in charge so I’m trying to bring good music to my hometown. It’s still not the biggest label, and we can’t offer half of what the bigger labels would, but it’s something.”
“And what are you offering?” Eddie felt dizzy, the more she talked. His words were careful, as if asking the wrong question could end in another blow up between the two of them. 
“What I’m offering is another chance for Corroded Coffin to be signed.” Paige’s arms crossed over her chest. “Left Turn is still finding its footing outside of L.A., so we’re flexible. I’m here to work with local radio and college stations around Indiana to get them to play the few bands we’ve signed so far. Who we have are okay, but they aren’t...”
“Real?” 
“Eddie you have something, as much as I never wanted to admit it again after what happened between us. There’s something about the way that you play that I haven’t been able to find since. I could do this without you, but I think that this is the real sink or swim moment. WR Records goes on with or without you, but I think what you have is what could turn Left Turn around.” Page took a deep breath. “If Corroded Coffin wants another shot, this would be it. If you still have that do-or-die energy when you play, I could offer you a real deal to put together an album. I could get you on the radio.”
Eddie listened to her words, taking in what she was offering. Yes, it wouldn’t be the easy street that WR would have been able to offer, but it would be something. And this time, it wouldn’t just be him auditioning, but Corroded Coffin was wanted this time. 
“You’re serious.” Eddie said, his heart rate picking up. 
“As serious as shooting a cop.” 
“Jesus.” Eddie couldn’t stop himself from letting out a laugh. He ran his fingers through his hair, messing up his fringe as he replayed everything that Paige had just told him in his mind. She wanted him to audition again. This was a chance that he wasn’t sure could be passed up. 
“Some of the band is still in high school.” He said, feeling reality settle like a stone in his stomach. He didn’t mention that his name was on that roster. 
“Like I said, we’re flexible.” Paige said. “I still need you all to audition again, and even then it’s going to take me a few months to set anything up here for the band. I want you all to audition with me and a few others from the label before the end of the year. If everything goes according to plan, Left Turn might have the recording studio ready by next June.” 
“You’re setting up your own recording studio?” Eddie perked up, the anxiety and guilt that he had originally felt was now shifting into something new. He found himself relaxing enough to eat his overpriced sandwich. 
“Yes. We need something that’s a step above Live Mike Studios in Lafayette. We have the building picked out and are already gutting it for Left Turn.” 
“You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?” Eddie smiled at her. 
“I have.” Paige agreed. “But I learned not to put all my eggs into one basket. This industry has taught me to have a plan A, B C, and D.” She let out a long sigh. “I made it to plan L before and I would prefer not to do that again.” 
“What was plan L?” 
“If I go into the whole story, I’ll need a strong drink. It involved a guitar player with his head up his ass thinking he was going to be the next Gene Simmons.” Paige groaned. 
“Gene Simmons doesn’t play guitar.” Eddie pointed out. Paige gave him a thousand yard stare, which said everything he needed to know. “Ok. Gotcha.” 
“I’m hoping to get everything set up with minimal surprises.” She concluded. “Get with your band. I’m going to be in town for the rest of the year setting things up.”
Eddie nodded. “So... why Indiana?” he asked. “You were in California. Why come back here to set this up?”
“Like I said, I want to bring good music to my hometown. Once everything’s done, I’ll be able to move back and forth from California to here.”
“And Corroded Coffin?”
“Will stay in Indiana.” She said firmly. “I can’t turn you into the Rock Hero you could have been two years ago, but I can try and make you a Hometown Hero.”
Another story. Paige had always been good at spinning stories. Once upon a time, Eddie had been a barback turned frontman turned Rock Hero. Now he’d be barback turned frontman turned Hometown Hero. That part felt less believable than before. 
That’s how Paige saw him, but how did he see himself? Barback turned front man turned drug thief turned drug dealer turned uber senior? None of that was a story worth selling. And what about the rest of his band? Would Gareth, Jeff, or Zack want to be part of this? Ronnie hadn’t, she just wanted to play just to play. Jeff had been excited about this when the opportunity was first presented, but would he still want the chance? Gareth was the youngest and still had over a year of school left. 
One thing at a time. 
“I’ll talk to the guys next practice.” Eddie said. 
“Good. Are you still playing at the Hideout?” Paige asked. 
Eddie froze for a second, as he imagined Paige and you in the same space to watch him play. He imagined your excited face, and the way you would cheer for them after every song, the excitement that radiated off of you after every set. Even earlier this week, when you’d dropped by to watch them, knowing that Eddie was going to see Paige, you’d still shown the same enthusiasm as before. 
He’d thrown you another pick. You’d handed it back to him at the end of the night, telling him that he could toss it at you again next week. 
“You look like someone who loses your picks the second they are out of your sight.”
You’d been right. The only one he could consistently find was the one he’d turned into a necklace. His dad’s picks had been packed away, shoved under his bed where he wouldn’t see them. Eddie didn’t use those picks anymore. 
A few weeks ago, he couldn’t stop comparing you to Paige, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about how different you two were. 
“Yeah, we play on Tuesdays now.” Eddie said. “People stopped complaining enough that Bev decided to give us a steady slot.”
“Good to know.” Paige said. She wasn’t confirming or denying if she’d show up, but that look in her eyes said that he could expect to see her again soon. 
After all, The Hideout was the only place in twenty miles of Hawkins that offered any live music. 
For the rest of the meal, the two caught up with each other. It didn’t feel as weird as Eddie would have expected, but it was nice. He let Paige do most of the talking, letting her tell him about her work in the industry, he didn’t need her knowing more than she needed to if he wanted to have this shot. Would she want to sign a bunch of high schoolers? He hadn’t even told Paige the first time that he had dropped out when Higgins blackmailed him. 
That was alright for now though. Paige talking meant that he didn’t have to and he added to the conversation by asking plenty of questions about her work. Hearing about the music industry from her end was something that he had a genuine interest in, anyway. 
Paige told him about how she had been given a copy of Iron’s Maiden’s Live After Death by Davey. She was even willing to make Eddie a copy of it. It wasn’t the video, but he wasn’t about to turn down audio of one of his favorite bands that wasn’t even released in the US. 
When the check came, Paige didn’t even blink as she paid the tab and the two of them made their way outside again. It was still pretty early in the afternoon, and the chill of the late autumn air contrasted the bright blue sky.
Trying to still be somewhat of a gentleman, Eddie walked Paige to her car as she recounted the tale of how she had been on the flight from Indianapolis to Los Angeles where Izzy Stradlin had been arrested for pissing in front of everyone.
Paige stopped with her hand on the door to her car before turning around to face Eddie before getting in. 
“I don’t hate you, you know.” she said. “I was mad for a really long time at what you did. But I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Eddie.”
Eddie didn’t feel like he deserved the forgiveness she was offering him. Being told that he was anything other than some satanic cult leader or freak wasn’t something he’d ever get used to.  
“Paige I...” He wasn’t sure what to say. 
She had that look in her eyes, the same look she’d had after she’d given him the news about his original audition. What are you waiting for? Paige was moving closer, freckles like constellations on her skin and the moon in her eyes eclipsed by her eyelids. 
Eddie's hand fell on Paige’s shoulder before her lips could get any closer to his. “I can’t.” he said. 
Her face went through a few emotions. Surprise, disappointment, and settling on embarrassment. 
“Shit. Sorry.” Paige said, shaking her head. 
“No it’s.. It’s fine.” Eddie said, and he could have sworn that Paige looked just as confused as he did. “I don’t think it’s a great idea to do.... That.” 
Eddie hadn’t once entertained the idea of Paige and him together again. It didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t lie and say that he didn’t find her attractive, but it wasn’t the same feeling he got that first night in the Hideout. As a teen, he’d been thrilled that a pretty girl was paying any attention to him at all, and was willing to do anything and be anything she wanted. 
Any relationship with Paige was business, plain and simple. She wanted a Rock Hero to help her get up the ladder, Eddie wanted to make it with his band. Sex had just been a bonus in their past relationship. Paige knew her stuff with music and the industry, but she didn’t rant about Ozzy and his bats, or have a real interest in D&D or put herself out there the same way that you- 
“I’m seeing someone.” He blurted out before Paige could say anything else. 
Paige looked surprised for a moment and shook her head and laughed. “Right. That... I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I did that.” she admitted. “I guess I got swept up in this stupid fantasy about being a power couple. We’re a bad idea.” 
“I’m sorry.” Eddie said, not sure what else could be said in this situation. 
“Don’t be. You’re right, ‘us’ is a bad idea.” she ran her fingers through her hair. “It’s a good thing my offer isn’t dependent on if we’re sleeping together or not.”
“I know you bought me lunch, are giving my band a second chance, and forgave me for one of the biggest fuck ups of my life, but I don’t put out that easy.” Eddie smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood.
Paige offered her hand and Eddie took it. “Business only then.” she said. “Talk to your band and call me to set up the audition.” 
Eddie watched Paige’s car drive off, and suddenly felt a lot lighter. He blasted his music and drove home, nearly laughing like a maniac. Today had been a wild roller coaster of emotions, and he couldn’t wait until the next band practice to bring the news to his band. 
At home, he grabbed his guitar and immediately began sorting through Corroded Coffin’s small pile of original songs, and the covers that they were able to perform the best. Eddie was off, lost in his own world as he wrote, re-wrote, and re-worked the set list. 
What would you think? Would you be excited for him? If this worked, he was going to make sure to get you concert tickets. Okay, he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe you could at least come for the audition as moral support. His band liked you, so maybe they wouldn’t mind. 
Eddie didn’t come back down to Earth until the phone rang that evening after Wayne went to work. He almost missed the call because of how deep he was into perfecting the riff that had eluded him for the past few months, determined now more than ever to get it down. 
He reached the phone on the last possible ring. “Hello?”
“Hey... Eddie?” Your voice cracked over the phone, and that feeling of excitement came crashing down. “Sorry I... Can you come pick me up? I’m at home.” 
You were crying. He could hear it in the way your voice strained and cracked. He was already reaching for his keys. 
“I’ll be right there.”  
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a/n: As I stated before, I do like to try and keep everything as time accurate as possible. However things happen, and sometimes things are too good not to use. The Izzy Stradlin incident did not happen until 1989, but the fact that it was on a flight from Indianapolis to LA was too good to pass up. I also would like to notate that I did make a mistake when it came to the Ozzy Bat Incident. It was not a 17 year old girl, it was a 17 year old boy and the bat was already dead. Chalk that inaccuracy up to the tabloids of the time, and the lack of Google. No, this will not be addressed in the future of the fic unless it’s funny. 
Dividers By: @strangergraphics
Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @siriuslysmoking @huffledor-able541 @pookiesnatcher @eddiesguitarskills @browneyes-8288 @sheneedsrocknroll92
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mimisempai · 2 days
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I wasn't expecting you 4/5
Chapter Summary - Pastry date
Aziraphale comes as expected to collect his pastries, and receives a lot more...
Notes
It seems they're good at surprising each other...
On Ao3
Rating G -  2202 words
Chap 1 - Chap 2 - Chap 3 - Chap 4 
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"So how did you like it last night?"
Crowley, who was restocking the pastries in the display case, replied to Nina without turning around, " You guys are a pretty nice, fun group. Even if you've had one too many."
As he chuckled, Nina protested, "Hey, it was the carpet seller who had one too many. We weren't sober, that's clear, but we weren't drunk either. Besides, you should be thanking us for taking care of the 'Brown' problem."
"Yes, in a very subtle way."
He straightened and Nina shrugged, "It's the result that counts, right?"
She leaned toward him and said in a conspiratorial voice, "And what do you think of the bookseller?"
"He is... interesting."
"Interesting?! Interesting?! I had to put up with poor Mr. Brown's lamentations, and all you can tell me is that he is interesting?"
Their bickering was interrupted by the jingle of the door bell, and Crowley's chuckle died in his throat as the object of their conversation had just walked through the door.
Nina nudged him and whispered, "I'll leave you with this... interesting customer."
Crowley shook his head as he watched Aziraphale approach the counter and greeted him, "Welcome Aziraphale, what will it be today?"
"Good morning Crowley. I don't know yet, let me see what you have."
The barista watched with mild amusement as the bookseller paced back and forth in front of the display case, hands behind his back, looking for his pastry.
Then Aziraphale turned to him and said, "I'd be tempted by a slice of apple pie, but the slices are pretty big. I was wondering..."
He took a few steps closer and continued, "Do you have a break? Maybe we could share it and..."
Crowley didn't have time to react as he felt Nina unfasten his apron behind his back while she said, "He's entitled to a break and besides, as luck would have it, it's now." Then she nudged Crowley and added, "Come on, come on, half an hour, so don't waste a minute. I'll bring you the pie and..."
Aziraphale, an amused gleam in his eye, continued, "A cup of Earl Grey."
Crowley, realizing he had no chance of resisting, not that he wanted to, added, "An espresso for me."
He pointed to an empty table in the back of the coffee shop and said to Aziraphale, "After you."
A few seconds later, they sat down and waited for Nina to come up with their 'order'. When she had placed the drinks and the halved slice of pie on the table, she said to Crowley, "The half-hour starts now," then walked away without looking back.
The two men looked at each other and laughed together.
"Always so subtle."
Crowley nodded before asking, "Isn't the bookshop open this morning?"
"Yes, Muriel, my co-worker is here. I don't like dealing with customers, but they're very good at it, so we work it out."
The barista nodded and asked with interest, without a trace of judgment in his voice, "So it wasn't really a joke on Nina's part?"
Aziraphale shook his head and said in a self-deprecating tone, "I inherited this bookshop. It was my grandfather's, and he took me in when I left my... family at 18. I'm a literary critic, I love to read, and I'm not really a shopkeeper, not to mention the fact that I'm very attached to books, so I find it hard to part with them. But it's no miracle, you have to make money to keep the shop going, so Muriel came along at just the right time, a bit like you did with Nina. They intuitively know which books to buy for the bookshop to sell and which ones belong to my... collection. So they take care of the practical side of things, and I can get on with my work, surrounded by my precious books.  I'm not even a bookseller, you see".  
"Impostor," Crowley teased as he took a bite of pie.
Aziraphale laughed softly and continued, "But I'm only talking about myself. I know barista isn't your only job. What else have you done?"
Crowley replied, "Barista is the job I've done the most, but I've also been hired several times as a mechanic's helper because I have an old car I like to tinker with, and I've also done courier work. But none of that is my dream job. In fact, the reason I wanted something more stable and to be able to settle down is because..."
Crowley paused, realizing he was about to tell someone about his dream for the first time, and someone he barely knew. 
Aziraphale must have sensed his hesitation, because he said quietly, "If you don't want to talk about it, I understand, you know, we barely know each other, you don't have to..."
But Crowley wanted to, he had this compulsion, this feeling that he could tell the other man anything, so he continued, "I want to study astronomy. I know it's ridiculous, and I don't-"
"Hey, don't say that! Let me remind you that you're talking to a bookseller who doesn't sell books! My only question is, why this particular field?"
"I grew up in the country, and on summer evenings when the sky was clear, my father and I would often go to the same clearing to look at the sky. He would show me the constellations, know the names of some of the planets, and always tell me that he regretted that he hadn't studied to understand more. So when I was about ten, I promised myself I'd learn as much as I could so I could show him a lot more. But when I had just started college..."
His throat tightened and for a few moments he was unable to continue. Sensing his emotion, Aziraphale put his hand on his, which was next to his cup, and said gently, "Take your time."
Crowley thanked him with a smile, warmed by the kindness in Aziraphale's eyes, and lowered his gaze to take the time to collect himself so he could continue. 
After a few seconds, when he felt able, he resumed, "But he and Mom were in a terrible car accident and didn't make it, so, as they were my only family, I had to work to support myself and had to forget that childhood dream. Until now. I don't know if I want to make a living out of it, but I want to be able to fulfill that dream, for myself and for my father. There, you know everything."
Looking up, he saw Aziraphale's eyes shining with unshed tears as the bookseller said quietly, "Thank you for your honesty. I'm truly sorry for the loss of your parents. I know we barely know each other, but Crowley, I have to say it, you're amazing, you know? This is a very beautiful dream, and I hope with all my heart that you can make it come true."
Then he squeezed Crowley's hand before pulling it away, adding in a lighter tone, "And don't ever say it's ridiculous again."
Crowley let out a shaky breath, suddenly feeling as if he had been lifted from a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying, just by sharing his greatest secret with the man in front of him.
Then his eyes slipped to the wall clock and he exclaimed, "Oh, it's been half an hour!" He finished his coffee before standing up and saying, "My break is over. I'm sorry, I have to...
"Would you like to have dinner with me?"
"What?"
"I know it might be a little soon since we didn't know each other until yesterday, but-"
"Yes."
Aziraphale could only repeat like a parrot, "Yes?"
Crowley laughed softly and replied, "Yes, I would like to have dinner with you. Just tell me when and where."
"Tonight and at my place? I know it's not very proper for a first date, but I think it might be better for, well, you know, with the street gossip and..."
Seeing that the bookseller was starting to ramble again, Crowley stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder and said, "No, that's fine with me."
He was rewarded with a bright smile and added, "I really have to get back to work. See you tonight then!"
He walked away, then returned to ask, "What time?"
Aziraphale, who had risen, replied, "7:00?"
"Perfect!"
Crowley then joined Nina behind the counter to help her serve the arriving customers, while Aziraphale strolled happily back to the bookshop.
He stepped through the door and exclaimed cheerfully, "I'm back!"
Muriel, who had been bending over behind the counter, straightened up and replied, "Welcome back."
"I'll put the last box of books away."
"Okay!"
Aziraphale picked up a box and walked to one of the shelves, whistling a lively tune. After a few seconds, Muriel appeared and asked him suspiciously, "You look very cheerful. Any reason?"
Knowing that his colleague and friend wouldn't let go until he said something, he replied neutrally, "I have a date."
"A date? A date? Mr. 'I'm going to end my life a bachelor because no one can stand someone like me' has a date?"
"Yes, Muriel..."
"Who, where, how?"
Aziraphale chuckled and replied, "Crowley, the new barista, here, I invited him to dinner."
"Him? Whereas you didn't know him yesterday?"
Muriel reached over and touched his forehead.
Confused, Aziraphale asked, "What's the matter with you?"
"I'm checking to see if you have a fever."
Aziraphale laughed again and replied, "Idiot."
Muriel became serious again and asked quietly, "Are you sure?"
Aziraphale replied with the same seriousness, "Absolutely sure."
"What has changed since yesterday?"
The bookseller replied quietly, "Something about him makes me want to take the risk."
Muriel looked at him thoughtfully before turning and walking away, "I'm in the mood for a hot chocolate, I'll be back soon!"
"Ok- What?! Muriel, no, don't-"
But only the sound of the shop door closing answered him as he saw his friend cross the street and enter the coffee shop.
Crowley was just putting the clean dishes away when he heard the coffee shop door open. Nina was checking the inventory in the back room, so he turned to the counter and saw a new customer arrive, looking determined as they walked up to the counter.
"Hello, I'd like an extra large hot chocolate, please."
Crowley replied politely, "Very well, I'll bring it right over."
He went to prepare the chocolate and returned a few moments later to the customer who had taken out their purse.
He handed them the hot chocolate and said, "3.25 pounds, please."
The customer grabbed the cup before handing them the money. Just as Crowley took it, they grabbed his wrist and looked him in the eye, saying firmly, "If you hurt him, you'll have me to deal with."
Crowley almost laughed because he was twice their size, but something in the customer's eyes told him they were serious, even if he wasn't sure what they were talking about.
He just nodded and watched in amazement as they left the coffee shop and crossed the street before entering the bookshop.
"Well, you just met Muriel."
"Muriel? Aziraphale's co-worker?" Crowley looked back at Nina, who nodded and then laughed at his bewildered expression.
Crowley thought the people on this street were completely mad, but somehow he was really beginning to appreciate their sweet madness.
*********
Much later in the day, about two hours before Crowley was due to arrive, Aziraphale began to wonder what had possessed him to invite the barista like that. What would they talk about? It had been so long since he'd done that. What if the other man found him boring? What if he had misread the signs?
"It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves."
The words his grandfather used to repeat to him whenever he doubted came back to Aziraphale's mind, and as he looked at his portrait on the desk, he felt calm return to him and murmured, "Thank you, Grandpa."
Aziraphale took a deep breath and continued his preparations, heading to the kitchen to cook dinner.  He was quite confident in his culinary skills after receiving compliments from members of the small community on Whickber Street who had tasted his cooking more than once.
An hour later, the meal was ready and he looked at the kitchen clock with satisfaction. He had just enough time to shower and make himself reasonably presentable for the evening ahead.
He didn't dwell on the fact that it took him a little longer than usual to choose his outfit, that he combed his hair three times before finally tousling it with his hand, that he put on his best cologne. 
The most important thing was that half an hour later he was ready.
All the preparations didn't stop his heart from skipping a beat when he heard a light knock at the door. It also didn't stop his heartbeat from quickening as he approached the door to open it.
With his hand on the latch, Aziraphale took a deep breath before opening it and saying, in what he hoped was a natural way, "Good evening, Crowley."
_________
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰
Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝
Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here
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transingthoseformers · 9 months
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On your SG (Bayverse?) self-rbs;
Now i'm seeing a human protagonist who's also initially scared of the Decepticons, but ends up with one (accidental kidnapping?), maybe there's a language barrier, the Decepticon is very nice and tries to protect the human, and the human witnesses Autobot brutality (ex. murdering some POW?) firsthand.
Maybe they eventually get to a Decepticon base, where they have hatchlings they're struggling to feed.
Ooooo ok ok that'd be so fascinating
So very fascinating!
Accidental kidnapping does? Seem to be the most likely scenario here??
Somehow I see Barricade as our first introduced decepticon here
My preciouses, the bayverse hatchlings🥰
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aroaessidhe · 9 months
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2023 reads
The Water Outlaws
fantasy inspired by a wuxia classic
a woman who’s an expert arms instructor is labelled a criminal after being assaulted by a powerful man
she joins a group of rebellious bandits who fight for justice, and becomes entangled in politics both with the group and the empire - who are trying to develop powerful magical weapons
mainly queer & female cast
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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
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...
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thatdogmagic · 1 year
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The first official step towards banning any and all LGBTQ+ art and literature has been taken.
This is what hypersexualizing queer topics was always leading towards. Expect this to be the signal flare that gets some state legislature barreling forward to enact this exact measure, solely so the bill can be struck down, challenged legally, then taken all the way to SCOTUS.
...
Repeating what I said on Twitter: This is a good time to remind people that just being LGBTQ in this moment in time can be considered an outright radical act, so anything less than going all-in on the life you want to lead is fucking pointless.
Put another way, if you're putting actual time and energy into respectability shit right now, do everyone *and* yourself a huge favor, and stop wasting your time.
You can't fucking negotiate with Christian Terrorists.
...
EDIT:
To be perfectly clear on this -- I made this post in the interests of calling attention to its inevitable end result. I thought (wrongly) it would be taken as a given/it would be implied that I fully think the bill, and any bills like it, are a bad thing, period, end of story. SESTA/FOSTA was a fucking disaster. Anything that further criminalizes sex work and pushes for divorcing people from their bodies/sexuality is just plain wrong.
I will be blunt, though, and say that the people saying 'it won't go that far' need to look again at Evangelicalism, and how far it's willing to go. The fall of Roe was orchestrated over decades of bills exactly like this, field tested in state and federal legislatures, over and over again. It starts here, but it ends with something far worse. And in this case, it's starting with an easy target: sex work. And as with Roe, it will inevitably wash up on the shores of even The Cishets, while the ruling class continues to do whatever the fuck they want, with whomever the fuck they want.
Now is absolutely the time to push back against this shit. Failing to do so just emboldens the people who introduce bills like this. Harsh backlash is needed, right now, against the rising tide of Christian Fascism/Terrorism, and if you happen to think otherwise, then, I'm sorry/not sorry: you're just not paying close enough attention.
EDIT: this is many many months old and it's going around again so I'm locking RTs, eek
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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months
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Not quite Yandere yet but here is a snippet of the Yandere single dad short story. And a kindergartener obsessed with you being his mom
Yandere Short Stories: Mommy (Prequel)
Eventual Yandere Single Father x Teacher Afab Reader
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A pale hand shakily held the drawing his son, Jesse, made in horror. Who on earth could the smiling woman beside little Jesse be? Had another snake tried ti sink their fangs into the Isbert family once more?
Liam Isbert was the heir to the Isbert family. A man of extreme power and wealth who many women (and men) tried to woo. Only one had successfully baby trapped him which resulted in Jesse’s birth.
“Who is this woman?” Liam glared at the elderly nanny who frowned at Liam’s anger. “What kind of wench had been filling my child’s head with lies? She is not his mommy.”
“I assure you Miss (last name) is just his teacher. Your son is extremely attached to her.” The nanny told Liam which only made him angrier.
Impossible. She had to be after their family’s money and that’s why she sunk her fangs into a child. How cowardly!
“Notify the school that I wish to have a private meeting with his teacher.” Liam told the nanny as he ran a hand through his dark, wavy locks. Liam was so frustrated with these gold diggers. They were all the same…
He might have to homeschool Jesse now…
.
.
.
Liam sat in the back of his limousine as he watched Jesse excitedly run into the kindergarten. Liam has never seen his son so excited for anything in his life.
The brunette took a long drag from his cigar when he saw a beautiful young woman head towards Jesse. A smile as warm as a ray of sunshine on her face when she saw Liam’s son.
The little boy hurdled his small body into his pretty teacher. Jesse’s arms wrapped around her legs, while his blue eyes stared up at her with so much love it made Liam want to puke. How on earth did this woman charm his antisocial son?
Liam reeled down the window and was about to scream at her when he heard her laugh.
“Goodness, Jesse. It’s only been a day. Are you that excited to learn?” (Your name) smiled down at the dark haired boy who nodded his head.
“I just wanted to be with mom-“
“Jesse, it’s Miss (last name).” (Your name) ruffled Jesse’s dark brown hair which made the little boy pout. “I’m your teacher.”
“Why can’t you be my mommy? You’re so nice to me…”
(Your name) laughed as she bent down to pick Jesse up. “Because I would have to date your dad and I don’t really have any interest in men.”
Jesse thought for a minute and then he scrunched his face. “Daddy is kind of mean and he’s smelly.”
“You’re not supposed to say your daddy is mean or smelly!” (Your name) loudly giggled as she carried Jesse into her class.
Liam sat frozen in his limousine in shock. She didn’t want to date him? And… what did Jesse mean by him being mean and smelly?
“Sir, your meeting with the teacher will be at three in the afternoon. Do you want me to take you to the office.”
Liam shook his head and reeled up the limo’s window. “Yes. That would be nice, Allen.”
For the first time in many years, Liam felt his heart flutter.
.
.
.
“You must be Jesse’s dad. It’s nice to finally meet you.” (Your name) warmly smiled at Liam who remained silent. Liam couldn’t hear a word she said due to how loud his heart beat in his ear drums. His beating muscle would bring a snare drum to shame.
“Mister Isbert?” Liam was brought back down to reality when his teacher addressed him. His green eyes focused on her concerned expression. “About your reason no for a meeting… Jesse seems to be quite attached to me due to his lack of a mother. I try to correct him but he seems adamant about it. I am so sorry to inconvenience you-“
“What is your motive?” Liam narrowed his eyes at the young woman who seemed shocked. Motive? Whatever did he mean?
“What do you mean-“
“How much money do you want? I’m willing to pay you if you leave my son alone-“ Liam was shocked when (your name) slammed her hands on her desk when she stood up.
“How dare you… I’m sorry that other people have wanted such things from you but I do not. I care about Jesse. He desperately wants a parent that loves him and he’s not getting that from anyone in his house.” (Your name) scoffed at Liam’s shell shocked expression. The young woman shook her head. “This is extremely unprofessional of me, but you never spend any time with your son so I’m not surprised you don’t notice his concerning behavior of wanting to be loved.”
Liam gasped when she slapped a file in front of him that was full of letters from Jesse. Dozens of notes asking her to adopt him. Why did his son want this woman so badly?
“Be a better parent before you point fingers. Now get out of my classroom.”
Liam felt his cheeks heat up and his heart pound in his chest. She didn’t want his money… she just wanted Jesse to be cared for…
Liam was shocked to see Jesse outside the door. Jesse’s little hands clutched his lunch pail so tightly, his knuckles were white.
“Jesse-“ Jesse shoved past Liam to stand beside his teacher.
“Mommy, I want to eat lunch together! Can you cut the crust off my sandwich? I don’t like the crust.”
(Your name) smiled down at Jesse and took the lunchbox from him.
“It’s Miss (last name), Jesse… but of course I can take off the crust.”
And that’s when Liam noticed the pink blush on Jesse’s cheeks. Jesse loved his teacher… and who was he to separate them?
Liam shoved his hands in his suit jacket pockets and left the school in a hurry. His fingers itched for a cigar to try to calm down the rush of emotions he felt.
Perhaps he’d apologize to Miss (last name)? He wondered if she liked roses?
Liam blushed at the thought of her accepting roses from him. She’d be so pretty in red…
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soaps-mohawk · 4 months
Text
Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 1 - The Introduction
Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.
Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.
MASTERLIST | Next ->
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“I don’t like this.” 
“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.” 
He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?” 
“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.” 
That doesn’t make him feel any better.
He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago. 
He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink. 
He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her. 
“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting. 
As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care. 
He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long. 
His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic. 
Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not. 
He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack. 
Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week. 
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You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head. 
You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath. 
“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-” 
“Classified?” You finish for her. 
Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...” 
The less there is to make you a target. 
You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time. 
What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going. 
“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.” 
You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal. 
That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military. 
That, and the excuse for violence. 
Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented. 
In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you. 
“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together. 
“Tired.” You run a hand across your face. 
“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.” 
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You look nervous. 
He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly. 
This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega. 
His omega. 
As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy. 
“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand. 
He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly. 
He doesn’t even want to think about that. 
Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent. 
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy. 
“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand. 
You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed. 
“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.” 
You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side. 
He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents. 
“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.” 
“Thank you, sir.” You say.
Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit. 
Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about. 
“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?” 
Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.” 
Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went. 
“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.” 
“What sort of hesitations?” He asks. 
“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.” 
Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right. 
Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.” 
“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega. 
“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”
“That could be dangerous.” Price says. 
“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.” 
Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.
“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.” 
He hasn’t failed her yet. 
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Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked. 
The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.
You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags. 
Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment. 
You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent. 
You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk. 
One more to go. 
You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk. 
This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity. 
He’s going to be a problem. 
You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible. 
Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane. 
“Coming, Si?” 
Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared. 
You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute. 
Nothing that could dampen your natural scent. 
You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack? 
“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door. 
Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly. 
Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says. 
You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no. 
You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back. 
“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.” 
It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression. 
Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?” 
Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.” 
Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it. 
You can hold power over them. 
The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to. 
You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.
Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile. 
Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell. 
You’re beginning to see the dynamics already. 
“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in. 
All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha. 
Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”  
Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs. 
“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?” 
You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.” 
“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer. 
You nod. “Yes, sir.” 
“You lived on base?” He asks. 
You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.” 
“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it. 
It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say. 
The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well. 
“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.” 
“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent. 
You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.” 
“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks. 
You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.” 
“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks. 
You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.” 
“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks. 
Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance. 
“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.
“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.” 
You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.” 
Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails. 
Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze. 
He’s going to be a problem. 
“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.” 
You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either. 
“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.” 
You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting. 
“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach. 
His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell? 
What if they don’t like the way you smell? 
“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you. 
You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier. 
“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.” 
All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible. 
“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully. 
Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen. 
He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack. 
You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs. 
“Ready?” 
You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin. 
He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland. 
His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others. 
“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you. 
You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours. 
He’s testing you. 
You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl. 
He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting. 
Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached. 
You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place. 
“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?” 
You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head. 
“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.” 
His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland. 
You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you. 
“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze. 
“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this. 
“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”
He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 
Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him. 
You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat. 
You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper. 
“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek. 
You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze. 
You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them. 
They could if they wanted to. 
It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you. 
“You hungry, pup?” 
Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work. 
Pup. Price called you Pup. 
You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you. 
The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment. 
“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again. 
You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.” 
“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.” 
You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out. 
“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear. 
His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes. 
Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear. 
The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing. 
He’s proving his ability as a provider. 
In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can. 
You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you. 
He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks. 
A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost. 
Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult. 
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I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...
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zillychu · 5 months
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I’ve gotten a WAVE of asks about this AU, so I decided to flesh it out some more and answer some of those questions!
I’ll probably polish this extended summary up at some point and submit it to AO3. But for now, here’s a rundown of my thoughts–please feel free to send more questions! I’ll update this post if I get any more. But if you’re someone who wanted to write fic for it, don’t worry, you don’t need to take my headcanons as gospel. It’s a pretty basic AU honestly lol
Summary:
The portal accident results in a violent explosion that wipes out the whole block, and condemns all of Amity Park. Danny haunts the city for 100 years, before Sam and Tucker find him. 
Setup:
In the 1920’s, 19-year-old Danny went into the incomplete portal on his own, hoping to help out his parents. Ripping the portal open through unnatural means created a huge burst of energy that resulted in a massive explosion. A good portion of the Amity Park population died, many were injured, and the ones on the fringes relocated–Amity was quickly deemed too dangerous due to the excess ectoplasm in the area that attracted ghosts. 
While the disaster was in Amity, the fallout was seen around the globe. Before, natural portals were rare, short-lived, and rarely allowed ghosts to fully slip into our realm (the most severe cases being on par with poltergeists that most people didn’t believe in). Now, natural portals pop open frequently around the world, large enough to allow the entirety of a ghost into the physical plane. They’re more common the closer you get to Amity, but they happen enough elsewhere that this change was something of a small apocalypse before people settled back down and found out how to combat at least some of their new, permanent neighbors. 
Danny is unaware that he’s only half-dead, believing he’s a full ghost. He ends up sticking around Amity, unintentionally making it his haunt. His grief and guilt over causing the death of his loved ones (and many others) makes him isolate and avoid human contact. Though he has, at times, scared nosy people away from the city in a mix of territorial instinct–and to get them to leave before a less friendly ghost finds them. 
Ghosts are much more of an uncontested danger in this AU. Lesser ghosts are practically mindless, and while stronger ghosts are capable of reason, their interests are limited. They’re highly territorial, possessive, and often destructive. Most worrisome is that they also like to snack on the life force of anything alive. No one is sure what dictates a ghost’s propensity to attack or hunt the living for their life force since ghosts don’t exactly experience hunger. At least, not the way we do. If a human is rescued before their life force is fully drained, they can make a full recovery–though humanity has still not yet found what this “life force" is. 
And since the Fentons’ research died along with them, there aren’t many tools available to the public to protect them from ghosts. Most homes have standard ghost shields and some weapons are available on the market, but certified ghost hunters are required to take care of anything more powerful than your average spook. 
Sam and Tucker met in high school, and are now rooming together for college very close to the Amity border. Rent is surprisingly cheap when you’re a stone’s throw away from a condemned area crawling with ghosts. Sam is the one who drags Tucker along with her fascination over finding out more about the city, and its largely mysterious demise. Sam is aware of the danger, but feels ghosts have a place in this world just like everything else, and does exercise caution–like one would while foraging in the woods with a known tiger population. 
What she and Tucker weren’t expecting was to run into a ghost that felt almost human. One that hasn't hurt them, not for lack of trying–while being powerful enough to walk past ghost shields without so much as a flinch. The long white hair is familiar in the whispers of the ectobiologist community, but there’s no way it could be the rumored ghost king Phantom, right?
About Danny:
He has very long hair, claws, and black sclera. His hazmat suit is more torn and ragged, with exposed hands and feet that fade into a burnt black.
His hair tends to float a lot on its own. It can start morphing into fire under duress. 
He does still technically have gloves and boots, they've just charred and melted into his skin towards the ends. He can't take them off in his ghost form. His hands and feet have a leathery texture that's tougher than the rest of his skin.
The white of his hazmat suit is both supposed to look like flames, and also a battered look representing his more violent, explosive death.
Overall, he appears rather listless and sad, with an unnerving air of danger around him–even for a ghost. 
Danny’s “ghost sense” comes out as white smoke.
He does breathe black smoke at times, usually when agitated. 
He's already fought and defeated Pariah Dark by the time Sam and Tucker find him, technically making him the Ghost King. This is heavily speculated by ghost experts, despite there being no real proof beyond a massive battle that scarred Illinois. He has not donned the Ring or the Crown, and captured sentient ghosts are hesitant to answer questions surrounding him. Danny basically has the throne but doesn’t do anything with it, and finds it meaningless enough to routinely forget he has the title. He only fought Pariah because he knew otherwise, humanity would have perished. A lot of ghosts are scared of him because he's so hard to figure out, and he's strong. 
Danny is usually very quiet and speaks softly, because his lungs were damaged in the blaze that half-killed him. He's technically healed since becoming a ghost, so it's more of a compulsion due to the traumatic memory. That, and he’s just… very forlorn and distant, shy around humans who don’t seem to understand how dangerous it is to keep hanging around him.
His memories pre-accident are extremely fuzzy. He knows the very basics of who he was, but specifics have been muffled due to trauma and isolation. He routinely forgets human habits, etiquette, etc. and tends to act more like a full ghost with some odd quirks. 
He does try to scare Sam and Tucker off numerous times. Unfortunately for him, they realized they shouldn't have been able to escape a ghost that strong–but they did, because he let them. 
Sam and Tucker think he's mute at first! He doesn't speak a word to them until several encounters later, when he fumbles his whole scary act and saves them from another ghost. 
He’s still half-ghost, though he doesn’t figure this out until Sam and Tucker come along trying to unravel the mysteries behind the Amity catastrophe. Physically and emotionally, he’s been stuck for 100 years–so his human form is still 19. It’s unclear at this point if he can age normally like a human as long as he stays in human form, or if he’s immortal. 
Danny's family did not turn into ghosts, though he sometimes worries he'll find them in the afterlife as shells of their former selves. He doesn't know if it's better or worse that he's not sure he'd recognize them. 
(Danny also still has some living family. Take a guess.)
Yes, he knows how to Wail. Understandably, he very rarely uses it. You do not want to witness this.
Danny :) is not immune :) from the allure of eating a human's life force :)))
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kafus · 2 years
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beginner’s guide to the indie web
“i miss the old internet” “we’ll never have websites like the ones from the 90s and early 2000s ever again” “i’m tired of social media but there’s nowhere to go”
HOLD ON!
personal websites and indie web development still very much exist! it may be out of the way to access and may not be the default internet experience anymore, but if you want to look and read through someone’s personally crafted site, or even make your own, you can still do it! here’s how:
use NEOCITIES! neocities has a built in search and browse tools to let you discover websites, and most importantly, lets you build your own website from scratch for free! (there are other ways to host websites for free, but neocities is a really good hub for beginners!)
need help getting started with coding your website? sadgrl online has a section on her website dedicated to providing resources for newbie webmasters!
HTML (HyperText Markup Language) and CSS (Cascading Style Sheets) are the core of what all websites are built on. many websites also use JS (JavaScript) to add interactive elements to their pages. w3schools is a useful directory of quick reference for pretty much every HTML/CSS/JS topic you can think of.
there is also this well written and lengthy guide on dragonfly cave that will put you step by step through the basics of HTML/CSS (what webpages are made from), if that’s your sort of thing!
stack overflow is every programmer’s hub for asking questions and getting help, so if you’re struggling with getting something to look how you want or can’t fix a bug, you may be able to get your answer here! you can even ask if no one’s asked the same question before.
websites like codepen and jsfiddle let you test HTML/CSS/JS in your browser as you tinker with small edits and bugfixing.
want to find indie websites outside the scope of neocities? use the search engine marginalia to find results you actually want that google won’t show you!
you can also use directory sites like yesterweb’s link section to find websites in all sorts of places.
if you are going to browse the indie web or make your own website, i also have some more personal tips as a webmaster myself (i am not an expert and i am just a small hobbyist, so take me with a grain of salt!)
if you are making your own site:
get expressive! truly make whatever you want! customize your corner of the internet to your heart’s content! you have left the constrains of social media where every page looks the same. you have no character limit, image limit, or design limit. want to make an entire page or even a whole website dedicated to your one niche interest that no one seems to be into but you? go for it! want to keep a public journal where you can express your thoughts without worry? do it! want to keep an art gallery that looks exactly how you want? heck yeah! you are free now! you will enjoy the indie web so much more if you actually use it for the things you can’t do on websites like twitter, instead of just using it as a carrd bio alternative or a place to dump nostalgic geocities gifs.
don’t overwhelm yourself! if you’ve never worked with HTML/CSS or JS before, it may look really intimidating. start slow, use some guides, and don’t bite off more than you can chew. even if your site doesn’t look how you want quite yet, be proud of your work! you’re learning a skill that most people don’t have or care to have, and that’s pretty cool.
keep a personal copy of your website downloaded to your computer and don’t just edit it on neocities (or your host of choice) and call it a day. if for some reason your host were to ever go down, you would lose all your hard work! and besides, by editing locally and offline, you can use editors like vscode (very robust) or notepad++ (on the simpler side), which have more features and is more intuitive than editing a site in-browser.
you can use ctrl+shift+i on most browsers to inspect the HTML/CSS and other components of the website you’re currently viewing. it’ll even notify you of errors! this is useful for bugfixing your own site if you have a problem, as well as looking at the code of sites you like and learning from it. don’t use this to steal other people’s code! it would be like art theft to just copy/paste an entire website layout. learn, don’t steal.
don’t hotlink images from other sites, unless the resource you’re taking from says it’s okay! it’s common courtesy to download images and host them on your own site instead of linking to someone else’s site to display them. by hotlinking, every time someone views your site, you’re taking up someone else’s bandwidth.
if you want to make your website easily editable in the future (or even for it to have multiple themes), you will find it useful to not use inline CSS (putting CSS in your HTML document, which holds your website’s content) and instead put it in a separate CSS file. this way, you can also use the same theme for multiple pages on your site by simply linking the CSS file to it. if this sounds overwhelming or foreign to you, don’t sweat it, but if you are interested in the difference between inline CSS and using separate stylesheets, w3schools has a useful, quick guide on the subject.
visit other people’s sites sometimes! you may gain new ideas or find links to more cool websites or resources just by browsing.
if you are browsing sites:
if the page you’re viewing has a guestbook or cbox and you enjoyed looking at the site, leave a comment! there is nothing better as a webmaster than for someone to take the time to even just say “love your site” in their guestbook.
that being said, if there’s something on a website you don’t like, simply move on to something else and don’t leave hate comments. this should be self explanatory, but it is really not the norm to start discourse in indie web spaces, and you will likely not even be responded to. it’s not worth it when you could be spending your time on stuff you love somewhere else.
take your time! indie web doesn’t prioritize fast content consumption the way social media does. you’ll get a lot more out of indie websites if you really read what’s in front of you, or take a little while to notice the details in someone’s art gallery instead of just moving on to the next thing. the person who put labor into presenting this information to you would also love to know that someone is truly looking and listening.
explore! by clicking links on a website, it’s easy to go down rabbitholes of more and more websites that you can get lost in for hours.
seeking out fansites or pages for the stuff you love is great and fulfilling, but reading someone’s site about a topic you’ve never even heard of before can be fun, too. i encourage you to branch out and really look for all the indie web has to offer.
i hope this post helps you get started with using and browsing the indie web! feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any questions or want any advice. <3
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echoekhi · 6 months
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I’m Declaring War Against “What If” Videos: Project Copy-Knight
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What Are “What If” Videos?
These videos follow a common recipe: A narrator, given a fandom (usually anime ones like My Hero Academia and Naruto), explores an alternative timeline where something is different. Maybe the main character has extra powers, maybe a key plot point goes differently. They then go on and make up a whole new story, detailing the conflicts and romance between characters, much like an ordinary fanfic.
Except, they are fanfics. Actual fanfics, pulled off AO3, FFN and Wattpad, given a different title, with random thumbnail and background images added to them, narrated by computer text-to-speech synthesizers.
They are very easy to make: pick a fanfic, copy all the text into a text-to-speech generator, mix the resulting audio file with some generic art from the fandom as the background, give it a snappy title like “What if Deku had the Power of Ten Rings”, photoshop an attention-grabbing thumbnail, dump it onto YouTube and get thousands of views.
In fact, the process is so straightforward and requires so little effort, it’s pretty clear some of these channels have automated pipelines to pump these out en-masse. They don’t bother with asking the fic authors for permission. Sometimes they don’t even bother with putting the fic’s link in the description or crediting the author. These content-farms then monetise these videos, so they get a cut from YouTube’s ads.
In short, an industry has emerged from the systematic copyright theft of fanfiction, for profit.
Project Copy-Knight
Since the adversaries almost certainly have automated systems set up for this, the only realistic countermeasure is with another automated system. Identifying fanfics manually by listening to the videos and searching them up with tags is just too slow and impractical.
And so, I came up with a simple automated pipeline to identify the original authors of “What If” videos.
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It would go download these videos, run speech recognition on it, search the text through a database full of AO3 fics, and identify which work it came from. After manual confirmation, the original authors will be notified that their works have been subject to copyright theft, and instructions provided on how to DMCA-strike the channel out of existence.
I built a prototype over the weekend, and it works surprisingly well:
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On a randomly-selected YouTube channel (in this case Infinite Paradox Fanfic), the toolchain was able to identify the origin of half of the content. The raw output, after manual verification, turned out to be extremely accurate. The time taken to identify the source of a video was about 5 minutes, most of those were spent running Whisper, and the actual full-text-search query and Levenshtein analysis was less than 5 seconds.
The other videos probably came from fanfiction websites other than AO3, like fanfiction.net or Wattpad. As I do not have access to archives of those websites, I cannot identify the other ones, but they are almost certainly not original.
Armed with this fantastic proof-of-concept, I’m officially declaring war against “What If” videos. The mission statement of Project Copy-Knight will be the elimination of “What If” videos based on the theft of AO3 content on YouTube.
I Need Your Help
I am acutely aware that I cannot accomplish this on my own. There are many moving parts in this system that simply cannot be completely automated – like the selection of YouTube channels to feed into the toolchain, the manual verification step to prevent false-positives being sent to authors, the reaching-out to authors who have comments disabled, etc, etc.
So, if you are interested in helping to defend fanworks, or just want to have a chat or ask about the technical details of the toolchain, please consider joining my Discord server. I could really use your help.
------
See full blog article and acknowledgements here: https://echoekhi.com/2023/11/25/project-copy-knight/
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Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Smutty Headcanons
I promised on this LM x Reader post things would get spicy soon, so here we are, coming so far from my first post! Just the first of probably many more smutty Lucifer posts, because we all know this man fucks and we all want a piece.
Warnings: SMUT
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- This man legitimately loves everything about eating pussy. He loves performing it, he loves bragging about how well he performs it, he loves giving tips because he believes in respecting the craft, and he loves putting down anyone too entitled to provide what he sees as this most enjoyable of services for one's partner. You don't even have to ask him to go down on you, it'll be one of the first things he offers, and he'll regularly ask if you're interested in letting off a little steam. Having the ability to extend and shapeshift his tongue into having an opposable forked tip makes him capable of techniques beyond your wildest fantasies, and whether you like to receive from above or below, he's equally down to have you seated on his face or laying back to enjoy yourself.
- He's not poorly or overly endowed for a man of his size, but he's also quite literally the one who originally proved that size doesn't matter in the slightest, and he's had thousands of years to perfect those original techniques. From position to tempo, he's mastered everything he needs to hit the G-spot with impeccable accuracy, and his hands will be quite busy seeking out where you most enjoy attention as he rides you with the power and virility of an untamed stallion. All this combined results in a mind blowing time for you, every time, and he's got the stamina to answer all of your repeated requests for another round.
- Nevermind the magic he can work with his tongue or his dick, the King of Hell is also a wizard with his fingers. He's even got a carpal tunnel roller just to keep his dexterity in top shape for when his skills are needed. Finding your clit is effortless for him, and he'll show it all the love he thinks you deserve, responding eagerly to your feedback in the moment and putting his mouth to use on your neck as he does so. Whether you want him inside, outside or both at the same time, he's happy to provide, and he'll gladly push his wrists to the limit if it leaves you properly satisfied.
- If you offer to be the one servicing him, he'll happily accept, and you'll quickly find his mannerisms shift quite considerably when he's on the receiving end. He starts out confident, offering banter to match your own, but as soon as your mouth gets to work, his demeanor changes. A grin becomes an open mouthed moan, his hands tenderly take hold of you to ground himself, and witty quips turn to soft and needy sighs. The more heated things get, the more he loses himself, but it's a great way for you to gauge how well you're performing. Growls and an appearance of his horns are a sign he's really having a good time, especially considering he's always got steam to blow off. Particularly rough days will result in him losing all control by climax; fully extended wings and horns, an unfurled tail he wraps about you, hair disheveled and clinging to a fine layer of sweat, and more than a few reality bending bursts of power surging around the both of you. It's his favorite way to end the day on a good note. He'll pull his fingers from your hair as he breathlessly apologizes for the show, but the both of you know watching him go feral is part of the fun.
- The afterglow is peak cuddle time for him, and he'll be in no hurry to get dressed if there's somewhere either of you needs to be, so more than a few of his duties will end up delayed thanks to post-coital bliss. All six wings will seek you out for a fluffy embrace, and if the two of you are at all winded, the otherworldly softness of Archangel feathers might make staying awake quite impossible. Should you have some energy to spare though, he'll want to actively enjoy the snuggle. Hearing you breathe, feeling his skin against yours, and engaging in pillow talk just make him the happiest little guy. Such moments really allow him to let his guard down, and you might hear him speak with a softness and hopefulness that rarely leaves the bedroom, but he's just as interested in listening as he is in talking. Don't be too surprised if he drifts off with his head in your boobs though.
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jymwahuwu · 1 month
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-You play a stripping game with Aventurine! See how much you can win?
cw: yandere, dub-con, manipulative behavior, naive, drunk reader, reader has female reproductive system, creampie, getting stripped naked after playing games
"What? Did that customer really say that? This is so silly!" You held a wine glass with ice in one hand and giggled drunkenly. And Aventurine is sitting next to you now. He confirmed your question, causing you to snicker again. He adds the sweet golden liquid to your cup. "That's right - I always advised them not to… Who would have thought that that business would become so exaggerated?"
"Hmm, that's enough, that's enough…" You took another sip of wine, leaned on his table, turned your head, smiled, and looked at the outline of his face. It's been weeks since you talked to Aventurine like this, in his villa. But once you meet him, there is an endless stream of things to say, maybe this is the precious friendship.
"Anyway, how about playing a game when you have free time?" he suggested.
You got interested and asked him what his game was. Aventurine held up your palm and explained the rules to you several times. You nodded, but you didn't really understand. "Okay, okay, how many credits should we bet?"
"It's vulgar to talk about money all the time, my friend." He smiled and held up a finger. "How about taking off one piece of clothing after losing a round?"
"Take off… clothes?" You tilted your head… closed your eyes and shook your head. "ah?"
Aventurine said in surprise. "It's a popular game. Didn't you know?"
"I-Of course I know!!" You raised your voice, pretending you already knew everything. Thinking of the value of his outfit… "Hmph, I can take away your hundreds of thousands of outfits soon."
"1, 6, 2!"
"6, 6, 6!"
"It's time to take off your clothes." He raised his chin and reminded. You snorted, removing a jacket and throwing it on his couch.
"4, 5, 6!"
"6, 6, 6!"
"What?" You picked up the three dice, checked and struck them from different angles, but there was nothing strange about them. "Did you cheat? Why are the results always so incredible?" Aventurine chuckled and shrugged. "I told you before that I'm very lucky, don't you believe me?"
"Ah, okay…" You reluctantly stared at his exquisite attire, which he had never taken off, and then looked down at your own graphic t-shirt and shorts, which were pulled up so that the bra and the breasts wrapped inside were exposed to the air. Embarrassment tugs at your heart and you try to fight back. "Next round! I don't believe you can beat me!"
2, 1, 1.
6, 6, 6.
If question marks could pop up in reality, a thousand question marks would have popped up above your head. You stare at the results in disbelief. How could Aventurine be so lucky? You can't even take one of his watches or rings? And are you so defeated now that you have to take off either your bra or panties?
"I-I won't play anymore. Boring game!" You bluffed, asking to get your clothes back, but Aventurine raised his eyebrow. "Awwww, it seems there is a coward here…"
"Who are you calling a coward?"
"You didn't keep your bet."
You are not a coward! You took back the hand holding the clothes and tremblingly touched your underwear and bra. Which one should you take off? If you lose again, will you really be completely naked? How do you get home? In the midst of your thoughts and drunkenness, you settled on a bra, but then covered your bare breasts with your hands. "Humph, now is the beginning of my victory!"
Victory? Aventurine almost laughed out loud, holding back the ridicule rising in her throat, knowing that you might leave in a huff, and all the previous arrangements would be ineffective. You open a dice simulator from the Internet to avoid possible cheating from Aventurine.
5, 1, 3.
6, 6, 6.
…It’s really…BEYOND WEIRD. How on earth is this possible? Is Aventurine walking on some lucky path you don't know and being protected by the lucky Aeon? But anyway, now you have to take off your panties and keep your promise. Now you were completely naked, in his villa, in front of your friend.
"Hey! You... don't have to do this... " You watched as Aventurine put them all in a box and locked it up. These clothes…are no longer your property. "There's no way I'm going home naked!"
"Didn't someone just say they were going to take my clothes away? I thought you were serious?" He chuckled, pulled your arm, and guided you onto his lap. With your brain like a drunken fog and embarrassment, you knelt on the sofa in confusion, your legs spread apart, and the luxurious sofa sank. A gentle kiss. Bring some hot air. Like an electric shock. "Umm…"
"Too bad your clothes won't come back, but you can win a new set by…"
Aventurine's thumb rubbed against your hot cheek for half a minute before he reluctantly unbuttoned his pants and took out his long, swollen and erect cock, the glans teasing your slit. You whimpered, placing your hands on his chest, and the glans stretched your folds and the warm inside of your vagina. "I…"
This is really more incredible than these rounds of dice. You were bouncing on his cock, moaning and sobbing in ecstasy. His hand cupped your ass, occasionally slapping it in exchange for you squeezing his cock unconsciously, while rubbing your clit with his other hand.
As the cream spurts into your body, ecstatic bliss fills you. You tighten your limbs, your butt trembles, and you wrap your hands around his neck, gasping for air.
"You win. I'll give you a new set when you wake up, okay?"
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saltpepperbeard · 5 months
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Be a Lighthouse - Fight For OFMD Season 3
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Hi everyone. The news of our cancellation is both incredibly devastating, and quite shocking considering the trajectory of the show and its fanbase. Everything looked like it was lining up in a positive fashion...only for the rug to get yanked out from under us.
I cried. I went numb. I stared at the wall for a while.
But then, something sparked. Like Ed who was resolved to his fate in S1Ep4 only to rocket back upwards, I was struck with a realization: we need to be a lighthouse!
Fanbases have campaigned before, and have gotten results. Sense8 was able to get a two hour finale to properly wrap everything up. Lucifer was able to get picked up by Netflix after being cancelled by Fox. Brooklyn 99 was able to get picked up by NBC after being cancelled by Fox. And many more examples.
Be it a proper renewal, a finale wrap that entails Ed and Stede's wedding, or the attention from another network, I say we fight that good fight. So, here are some ways we can be heard; if you think of any additional points, please feel free to add them!
If you don't cancel your Max Subscription, continue watching the show and leaving feedback on Max's online feedback form. I had a kneejerk reaction when cancellation was announced and pulled the plug...only to sit back and reconsider. I want them to still get my metrics. I want them to still see the show means something to me. And whether that's through words or statistics, I feel like that's something.
2. Follow @renewasacrew and keep up with their resources/campaigns. They're very active and passionate, and have already come up with different ways to fight for our show.
3. Sign the petition to give us just that little bit more of a chance to have our voices heard.
4. Stay active on social media, and stay positive. Continue sharing how much this show means to us. Continue creating. Continue loving. Use hashtags like-
#RenewAsACrew
#SaveOFMD
#RenewOFMD
#BeALighthouse
#OFMDSeason3
or anything equivalent on any and all OFMD-related posts. Keep the buzz about it going on social media. Comment on posts, keep spreading the word, and get the light burning.
5. Renewasacrew has given us another outlet; an official HBO email address. Write an email detailing your personal experience with this show, and how significant a third season would be.
6. Tweet/email other platforms to pique their interest. Be it Amazon Prime, Hulu, Netflix, or whoever else, let's see if we can't catch someone else's attention. A romcom with iconic LGBT representation seems pretty enticing if you ask me!
This show means the world to me. Y'all mean the world to me. So let's show them why. Let's show them why, and get the proper ending we, the cast and crew, and the characters all deserve.
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fallingdownhell · 7 months
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i love your recent posts but can i request hurt/comfort genshin impact xiao, wanderer, cyno where like they get into an argument about the reader being weak or something like that
although they didn't mean it, but after a few days after the argument, they see reader like training hard for them because of the fight.
<3
Mhh, always. You know I love me a good dose of angst! And I'm sorry, but I only included two of the requested characters, because otherwise this would haven gotten way too out of hand and too much to read. Hope you're okay with that.
Characters Included: Xiao; Wanderer
Content: gender neutral reader; angst; comfort; hurt/comfort; established relationship; arguments between them and reader; shouting and cursing at reader in wanderer's scenario; Kunikuzushi/Kuni is being used for Wanderer
Word count: 2,2k words
Enjoy the read!
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Xiao
You have to understand him. He's just looking out for you!
There is a clear, natural difference in strength between you and him!
He's an adeptus after all, and you're just a human! Sure, you possess a vision and you know perfectly well how to utilize it to your advantage in battle, but he's still your boyfriend! Let him be worried about you!
Honestly, he really just had your best interest and saftey in mind when he approached you one day, offering to train with you and possibly make you stronger, since he noticed your form to be a bit lacking when he watched you train.
The problem was, he told you exactly what he was thinking, no filter whatsoever. Which in turn caused you to get a bit defensive with him. That didn't sit right with Xiao, because in his eyes, he was only trying to help you.
This then resulted in a huge argument, where neither of you wanted to back down against the other.
"(Name), for the love of the Archons. Can't you see I'm only trying to help you here?"
"By berating me and telling me all the things I'm doing wrong? Without offering any advise at all? Yeah, great help.", you scoff as you turn your back to your boyfriend, trying to resume your exercise in peace. You were hoping that he would get the hint, to leave you alone. But he didn't.
"I'm really only looking out for you. You lack basic knowledge with the sword and you lack stamina as well. You're moving around too much, you make so many unnecassary movements. The hold you have on your weapon is too loose. Anyone could easily knock it out of your hand. Also-!"
"Okay! I got it!", you suddenly burst out as Xiao keeps on listing the things you're doing wrong in his eyes. It not only frustrated you, but it also made you feel so inferior.. to him and basically everyone else. You know that everyone starts out at some point. Everyone has to learn from the beginning. So why is he being so mean to you? Shouldn't he be more supporting of you as your boyfriend?
"I get it. You've made your point very clear."
You speak again, while Xiao just stares at you, mouth still hanging open. He didn't expect for you to raise your voice like this. You were usually so soft spoken.
You stared into each others eyes for a few more seconds, before you let out a sigh and placed your sword back into its sheat.
"I'm going home.", you announce as you go to grab your stuff. You collect everything and put it in your back, leaving without taking another look at him.
Suddenly, Xiao got the feeling that he made a huge mistake. Not only by "helping" you out with your training, but also as he let you go like this without having a talk with you, but something told him to let you be for the time being.
.....
Well... did he regret letting you just go like that. It has been almost a week since he last saw you, because you refused to call his name like you usually did on a daily basis.
And he was afraid of seeking you out himself, since he feared to only further sour your mood with an unannounced visit from his side. But he wanted to see you again so badly...
When the one week mark was reached without hearing anything from you, Xiao has had enough. He needed to make sure that you were okay. He was certain you would have called his name if you were in mortal danger, despite the argument at hand, but it's better to be safe than sorry. He needed to know you were still alive..
So, he teleported to your home, waiting for a few seconds in front of the door, gathering courage, before knocking on the door. He waited and waited, but nothing happened. He knocked again, but still nothing.
Xiao was about to leave again, scolding himself in his head, because of course you wouldn't open, you obviously didn't want to see him right now, when he heard noises coming from a bit further away.
Deciding to investigate, he followed the noises. And what he saw did shock him a bit..
He saw you, standing in a circle of training dummys, practicing different moves and tactics. He could tell that your hold on the blade has gotten better over the week you have been apart. In fact, everything he had critiqued about your skills seems to have improved...
Have you been training relentlessly this entire time??
This made him feel even more bad about this entire argument. He wanted to help you, not make you overexert yourself like this, just to prove something to him..
Deciding that it was finally time to talk, he approached you. You heard the footsteps coming your direction and turned towards them. Surprised to see Xiao there, you stopped in the middle of your session, facing him.
It was quiet for a few seconds as he arrived in front of you, and when you couldn't take it anymore, you decided to speak up again.
"What? Here to berate me even more?" It sounded way more sarcastic and hurtful than you had intended it to, and you saw Xiao flinch the slightest bit at your words, but you didn't back down from them.
"No..", Xiao answered weakly.
"I'm here to apologize." His words left you surprised, not expecting this at all.
"I didn't realize how much my words were hurting you. That was never my intention, (Name). I.. I'm just worried about you. There is a clear difference in skill, after all, but I shouldn't have been like this to you. I sincerely apologize for the way I treated you."
You have been with Xiao long enough to know two things. First, he was being completely honest with you. You could tell by the tone in his voice and the way he tried to look into your eyes, while also trying to avoid them at the same time, feeling embarrassed about being this vulnerable with someone.
Second, you knew just how hard it was for him to be honest and vulnerable with you. Saying this must have caused so much for him to do, yet he did it anyway.. for you.
For a second, you stood there and stared at him, before sighing and walking over to him, wrapping your arms around his body in a warm, comfortable hug. He did not hesitate for a second before doing the same, having missed this feeling dearly for the past week.
"I don't mind you helping me or giving me advise.. but maybe don't be so brash and insulting about it. Okay?"
He nodded, promising you to be more careful with his words from now on.
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Wanderer
You sighed with relief as the Ruin guard in front of you collapsed and shattered into its parts, the cut on your side hurting a bit when you breathed, but it wasn't bleeding too bad, so the wound must not be too bad, either.
You were usually not that easy to surprise, but for some reason, you overlooked that particular ancient machine, resulting in it getting a hit on you before it was taken down.
Though, you were not the one responsible for taking it down. The actual reason was flying in from behind it, your boyfriend, Kuni. And while you were smiling at him, wanting to thank him for his help, he had a scowl on your face as he landed in front of you.
"What the hell were you thinking, Idiot? You would be dead now if it weren't for me being here!", he shouted as soon as he landed, not letting you get a word in.
You were taken aback by his harsh words and tone, staring at him, which only made him even more agitated.
"The hell? You don't even have an excuse! How can you be so fucking careless? I know you're weak but I wouldn't have thought of you being this stupid as well!"
You heard each and every single one of his words, and they all stung right in your chest. You were aware of the difference in power between you two, but that didn't mean you were incompetent with your polearm. You've trained long and hard to get to the point where you are now, and you were proud of yourself for it.
When you looked into his eyes again, you could see a bit of shock behind them, like he was surprised himself that the words actually left his lips.
You waited a few seconds, to see if he would apologize to you or take them back, but nothing came. Kuni's pride hindered him from doing the right thing..
"I see. If that's what you think of me, I won't be in your way again."
The words sounded cold when they left your lips, and Kunikuzushi flinched ever so slightly when hearing them, but you didn't react to it. Instead, you turned and walked away from him without acknowledging his presence any longer.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing? Where are you going?", he shouted after you, but no response. Then, he chased after you, but when he noticed that you were still ignoring him, he gave up on it, figuring that it would be best to leave you alone for the time being.
Surely, you would come crawling back to him soon enough... right?
....
....
Two weeks.
The incident has happened two weeks ago. And for those two weeks, he did not hear or see anything of you, whatsoever.
He was so sure that you wouldn't even survive a week without him before coming back and apologizing, but it seemed like he was wrong this time.
And he hated to admit this, even to himself, but.. he missed you. Missed your stupid, cheerful smile, your laugh and the way you always made his day better, just by spending time with him.
After about a week and a half, he began to think, that maybe, this time, he was actually the one in the wrong. That maybe, he took it too far with his words this time around.
Maybe.. he should be the one to apologize to you.
And yet, it took him a few more days to overcome his stupidly high pride and actually follow through with his thoughts.
Nahida, who knew all about the situation from Kuni himself, smiled and nodded proudly as the puppet went to leave the Sanctuary of Surasthana.
He first searched for you at your home, but you couldn't be found there. Then, he went on a stroll through the city, hoping to run into you along the way, but that too, proofed to be without success.
His last hope was the adventurers guild, and that someone hopefully has seen you there.
And luck was on his side this time, as some other members told him about how you have constantly been taking commission after commission for the past few days.
Feeling his worries for you rise again, he went to the locations given to him, hoping to find you there.
About an hour or so later, he spotted you at the location of the third commission you took, standing next to a defeated ruin drake while facing another one head on.
He had half a mind to rush over and take care of it for you, but something in him told him to let you handle it yourself. So he watched with bated breath as you easily took care of the machine, letting it fall to the ground while you remained completely unharmed.
That's when he really realized what his words might have caused for you. You are by no means a sheltered human, you're capable of defending yourself, and very well so.
As you were checking the defeated drakes for useful stuff, he came out of his 'hiding spot', walking directly to you. You noticed him approaching but chose to ignore him still. In fact, you've noticed his presence in the middle of the fight, but decided not to call him out and see what he would do.
When he arrived, he just stood next to you in silence for a while, watching you. But when you still wouldn't acknowledge him, he decided to speak up.
"(Name)... I... I'm sorry..", he mumbled quietly. He felt embarrassed, not used to acting like the bigger person, but he was in the wrong here, so he had to do this, no matter what.
The words out of Kuni's mouth caught you by surprise, your head swirling around to look at him, finally.
Kunikuzushi didn't know what else to say right now, so he stayed silent, hoping you would understand how difficult this was for him right now.
"..I'm not weak.", you answered him quietly as well, fully facing him now, but your posture and tone seemed a bit more open and calmer now.
"..I know."
He may not be the best with words, but somehow, you always understood what he wanted to say, anyways. It has always been this way between you. It was one of the many things he loved so much about you.
And that's how it was this time, too. He quietly thanked the Gods when he pulled you into his arms again, holding you for the first time in what had felt like an eternity.
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