#I need to write her. or about her at least

[phantomspren]

I was just going to put this in tags but I'll put it here.

This is why I'm uncomfortable when people make sweeping generalizations about conservatives/Republicans.

On a fundamental level, I do disagree with the political beliefs that lead people to holding those labels.

But at the same time, there's such a huge difference between someone who is Republican because they think that we should have lower taxes, and someone who is Republican because they think rich white men are the only people worthy of rights.

When we make those blanket statements of "every Republican is racist" or whatever, we're making it less likely that those people are going to do stuff like this. Often it leads to people doubling down on their beliefs, even if they are inherently harmful.

You also have people like my mom. She is a registered Republican, born and raised in Idaho, super super Mormon.

She's a registered Republican because she thinks that society should be built to promote the family and help families thrive.

But she also supports universal healthcare.

I tell her all the things I think are cool about Harris and Walz and she's always like "wow, yeah, that is really cool!"

She's a high school teacher and because of that now supports gun control.

She doesn't give a shit that I'm aroace. (Haven't talked about gender stuff but I'd feel pretty comfortable bringing it up at this point to be honest.)

The thing is that the public/left awareness of the Republican party has shifted, following the people who are in power. Because those in power are getting more extreme.

There are people who have always held really extreme right-wing beliefs.

There are people like many who are voting for Trump who used to be less extreme, but have followed those in positions in power in gradually making their views more extreme.

There are those like my mom and dad who have some not great but far more reasonable beliefs who feel like the Republican party no longer represent them.

It's important to talk about those problematic beliefs that people like my parents hold, but at the end of the day they are genuinely good people. They've got internalized racism and homophobia and misogyny just like everyone else, but they're still good people.

Honestly even most hardcore Trump supporters are good people. (My grandparents voted for him! They're some of the kindest people I know!)

But if we just throw everyone under the label of "Republican" and then assume that includes things like homophobe, white supremacist, etc, you're going to end up with a lot of people who don't want to get behind what you're behind.

It's so much better, in my experience, to build a report, built trust, try to genuinely understand where the other person is coming from. I've talked to my Trump voting grandparents about trans people and they listened to me. I may not have changed their minds, but they have at least seen that other side from someone they respect.

That's going to go a whole lot more good in the long run than just calling them Republican and never talking to them again.

Of course there's more nuance than this, and if someone has like genuine beliefs that. Really really not great. Dump their ass. It's not worth it. There's a difference between someone who's a white supremacist because that's what they deeply believe, and someone who's just parroting what they saw elsewhere. The later deserve time and understanding, because they have the potential to turn into the former but aren't there yet.

And of course there are people like my mom. If she took a political compass quiz it would tell her she's liberal, hands down. Still a registered Republican.

Anyways, these are thoughts I've had for a bit and maybe I'll write something later that's a bit more planned out. Hope that makes sense.

And there's just a ton of nuance here that I can't get into because I've almost hit my time limit on Tumblr and I need to go take an exam. Plus it's dumb to expect me to elaborate on every possible way this could be misinterpreted. Just assume I kinda know what I'm talking about please, unless I accidentally said something blatantly incorrect. O7

Please vote tomorrow.

Be compassionate.

Imagine those around you complexly.

Think about my mom. :p

Have a cat picture for the road.

i'm a huge fan of Republicans, conservatives or however you want to be politically labeled choosing country over party. please let me see more stories. it's a brave thing to do this. even if you voted for him in both 2016 & 2020 but you changed your mind now, WELCOME. it's a massive deal to get out of any cult successfully & MAGA is no different. being filled with anger & hatred, & fear is intoxicating & honestly easier than choosing to do the right thing. i'm glad you saw the light.

check your registration status often & don't stop talking about Project 2025. they can pretend they're distancing themselves from it as much as they want but it's absolutely their policy. we can do this though if we just show up & VOTE. we got this 💙

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 2

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Contary to popular belief, (which was pretty much that the shadows had no mind of their own, which they had, thank you very much) the shadows did do other thing than to only listen to Master’s orders. 

Of course they listened to Master’s orders. 

But they also did…things that Master didn’t know about…and would never need to find out about…

One example in fact was the amount of gold the shadows had squirreled away throughout the centuries. Not for them, but for Master. So that Mater would never need to worry about that again. So that Master would never need to sleep in a dungeon again, like he had as a child. So Master could always have new weapons and could keep himself safe, so that he would have everything he needed.

Gold wasn’t the only thing they had squirrelled away…they had other things stashed away too! Anyhting that made the appearance of being useful one day! Shiny little things, because the shadows liked that…Sadly Master never made the appearance that he would appreciate the diamond necklaces they had hidden away in a little cave, but maybe one day…

Maybe one day Master would take a wife and she would like them.

The shadows had it all figured out. Whoever she turned out to be, they would make sure that she liked them too. They would make themselves useful so that she would like them.

Even when it had never seemed to work before… The shadows had made themselves scarce around The Morrigan and The Seer because they knew that Master liked them. And if Master liked them…well, then the shadows would make sure that Master got what he wanted.

Master wanted so few things after all…

They even found The Morrigan her favourite red lipstick that hadn’t been made in centuries. Not because they liked The Morrigan, but because Master did.

And in return, she treated Master like that.

And The Seer…oh, somehow that was even worse.

Though The Seer wasn’t the only one the Shadows didn’t like because of that. The High Lord was the other one. And him… oh, the shadows would get their revenge. 

Master was theirs. Nobody talked to Master like that.

(They just needed to wait for the perfect moment…and the High Lord would regret ever treating their Master like that…)

Master had nearly gotten himself killed just because he had wanted to make The Seer happy…and nobody even seemed to care about that. Not really. 

And then Master was working himself to the bone, clearly wanting to forget what happened between him and The Seer…and the Shadows just wanted to fix things, but there was nothing to fix anymore. 

At least now…At least now, finally, Master was listening to somebody with his best interests at first.

The Shadows would find Master a wife. The best wife they possibly could. And a home too.

And so, with their new mission in mind, the shadows set off to find the perfect home and the perfect female for their master.

The home was the easier part.

Mostly because they already owned it for a few decades. 

It was a picturesque Lake House at one of the mountain seas in Velaris, not far off from the House of Wind. It was beautiful and just a few minutes by foot away from the city center but still private and quiet…and the view was spectacular. 

The home itself was warm and cozy, with large windows that let in plenty of sunlight. Master would love it.

It just needed a little…attention. Some furniture…They would need to put the stuff they had filled it with somewhere else but that shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

Master would love it. Now they just needed the right female to share it with for Master…

The shadows were going to find Master a wife… They just needed…They just needed to figure out some criteria at first.

Master had said he didn’t care about how she looked…so that didn’t help them to narrow down the pool of possible candidates.

Nobody with a known mate. Nobody in a romantic relationship… regardless of how loose that was. The Shadows were not going to get Master’s heart broken again, thank you very much… Then all the females that preferred females themselves.

That did narrow it down… at least a little bit.

Then the more…obscure character traits. 

Nobody that was a workaholic like Master. That was never going to work.

Nobody that needed endless other people around them to be happy…Master would just get overwhelmed and shut down…

Nobody that didn’t seem like they were ready for a long term relationship either…once again, they didn’t want to break Master’s heart again…

The shadows had met really bad people. Criminals and murderers…they had seen the worst the world had to offer …but they were surprised by how many females they threw out too that pool simply because of how they behaved towards other people.

Once they had thought that maybe…maybe one female was an option. Dark blonde hair, green eyes…she had a steady job and she liked going out dancing….by the time she made fun of the limp of a soldier, the shadows wondered if every single person they came across was an asshole. They also wondered if there was anyone out there who truly deserved Master. 

But the Shadows refused to give up. They would find the right female for Master, no matter how long it took. They had already acquired a beautiful home for him, and now they were determined to find the perfect mate to share it with...

They could easily suss out anybody they wanted to meet…they could figure out which females were available…The problem was only that…they did find some kind of problem with every female they came across.

The blonde one that made fun of the limp was just one in a very long row of them. There was another one that they thought could have worked…but she got into earhsattering, screaming arguments with seemingly everybody she came across. Master liked his quietness, that wasn’t going to work either…

Another few that didn’t want a serious relationship even when they said they did, which was completely fine but made them useless for the shadows purposes… The Shadows were halfway ready to give up in Velaris and start trying again in another city of the Night Court, when they came across her in a dark back alley.

Across her and probably the dirtiest and ugliest feral cat that the shadows had ever seen.The ugliest cat they had ever seen that she was clearly trying to entice to come home with her.

“H-hey, swe...sweetie,” she whispered, her voice stuttering. She was crouched down o the floor. “Wa—Want to go somewhere war—warmer?”

The cat meowed pitifully and the shadows watched as she wrapped the cat up in the scarf she had worn, not for one moment caring that the cat was goign to ruin it. 

The shadows couldn’t help but keep watching, their curiosity piqued. She was clearly not concerned about the dirt or the torn scarf, and she was attempting to bond with this mangy feral cat. This showed a level of compassion and patience that they hadn’t often come across in their search. 

She seemed determined to help the cat, and the shadows couldn't help but admire her tenacity. 

The cat looked horribly, with matted, dirty fur, two eyes that stared in two different direction and an overbite. Somehow it reminded the Shadows of Master. 

Not with the way it looked…more in the way it pitfully stayed quiet and didn’t attack the female, even as she picked it up, wrapped in her scarf and then took it home. 

She smiled at the mangly back alley cat with so much adoration that the shadows wondered where it was even coming from. Her face was alight with joy as the cat rubbed her head against her fingertips.

The shadows followed along as she brought the cat to her apartment.

It was tiny. Tiny and absolutely stuffed full with books. So many books. Like somebody had tried to stuff the whole library of the Hose of Wind in this little apartment overlooking the harbour.

She had so many bookcases lining the walls, books in little stacks on her dining table and coffee table…or simply stacked on the floor. It was cozy and cluttered and utterly charming. Her passion for literature spilled out of every corner of her home. 

The Shadows couldn’t help but wonder what kin of person would choose to filll their living space with so many books. 

Apparently a person that had no problem with spending the better part of an hour bathing the cat in her kitchen sink. 

Weren't cats supposed to not to like water?

This one didn't seem to care. This one sat calmly in her sink and attemptsed to bite the stream of water flowing from the faucet...which meant it snuffled and sneezed for the big majority of the bath. She soaped him up twice, muttering a constant stream of reassurances that the cat doesn't seem to actually need, given the cat’s complete lack of distress at being repeatedly soaked.

And still she talked to it, constantly, the stutter omnipresent. She showed a remarkable amount of patience and care as she cleaned and combed the feral cat, gently and painstakingly combing out every single matted strand of hair and making sure the cat was clean and comfortable.

The shadows couldn't help but be slightly taken aback. She seemed completely focused on making sure the cat was happy and healthy, and she didn't even seem to mind that she was making a mess of her kitchen in the process. 

​​She scooped said up in a fluffy towel, rubbing it up and the cat purred, looking at her with two eyes that stared in two different directions. It was still the ugliest cat the shadows had ever seen, but she seemed to utterly adore it.

"You need - need a name," she told the cat seriously. She seemed to take this decision very seriously, as if the cat's name was a reflection of his identity. The cat in question was clearly enjoying the attention, purring contentedly as it was rubbed with a fluffy towel. "I thi-ink you are a boy. How about...Hector," she said finally, as if she had carefully considered many options before settling on this one. "I think it suits you.”

"How about some tu...tuna, Hector?" she asked him seriously. "I'll even give...give you the good crystal."

She couldn’t be serious, could she?

Apparently, she was. She fed the mangy back alley cat from a fancy little crystal dish that she put a tin of tuna into with a flourish, putting out another dish with water right next to it. 

She slipped off the apron she had put on, printed with ditsy little florals and sat down next to the cat. Hector happily scarfed down everything she was offering and then came to curl himself up on her lap. “I have a bad track record with males,” she told the cat seriously. “They end up cheating on me with my sister.”

The statement caught the shadows off guard. What? 

Despite that admission she she continued to gently stroke the cat in her lap, clearly finding some comfort in his company. "I'll feed you all the tuna I can find, if you keep me company," she told the cat softly. "I could really use some company."

That wasn’t…that wasn’t what the shadows had expected. Bu the Hector purre, the sound rough and growly and she giggled, sounding sweet and incandescently happy. 

She wanted companionship. That was clear. And she was also used to beng the second choice, when the males she had been with, had cheated on her with her sister. 

They were intrigued. 

They kept watching, hiding between her books, that seemed to span every which genre as she got ready for bed. 

She took a bath, and they watched as she let down her hair from the thick braided bun it had been kept it, ripples of chocolate brown tresses falling down her back…she was pretty too. 

Pretty with dark hair and blue eyes, with lush curves that were swathed into a pair of blue silk pyjamas.

She opened a chest at the end of her wrought iron bed, going through it for a moment and then pulling out a fluffy blanket, into which she wrapped Hector in. 

“Here, you..you can have that one,” she said softly, placing the cat at the end of her bed. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And so she went to sleep, curled up between floral sheets, and the cat purring at her feed and the shadows watched. 

They stayed.  

While she slept, they explored her house, searching for everything that they could learn about her. Searched for a name and her job or her hobbies and…

The answer was found in the desk that was tucked beneath her window in the living room. 

Dozens of pages filled with loopy handwriting were covering it. Drafts of her newest novel. A romance novel. 

Just a few moments later they found a stack of letters…and then were very confused for a little while, because there were letters addressed to two different females. Skylar Alden…and one Sellyn Drake. 

It took them a moment until they realised that both names contained the same letters.

Skylar Alden was Sellyn Drake.

Sellyn Drake, the bestselling romance author. Sellyn Drake, who Lady Death loved to read. Sellyn Drake, whose identity was a secret...

Skylar Alden was Sellyn Drake. 

Skylar Alden, who seemed to prefer to be called Sky, signing everything with just these three letter…and who doted on Hector, the ugly cat..She was also Sellyn Drake, Bestselling Romance Novel Author extraordinaire. 

And she seemed very much content with keeping that a secret. 

But why? 

Why did she chose to hide her identity? Was she afraid of the fame that came with success? Or did she prefer to remain anonymous and blend in with the everyday world? 

The Shadows were intrigued. 

Was this the only secret Sky was hiding? 

The Shadows kept an eye her over the following days. 

They waited for her to do something that would put her out of the running as Master’s wife. Waited for her to have some kind of flaw that they couldn't deal with...but there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

They closely monitored her every move, and half the time she didn’t even leave her apartment, preferring to stay curled up inside, write her books, and cuddle with Hector, the cat.

For cauldron’s sake…she even knitted the ugly cat a sweater so he wouldn’t get cold because his belly didn’t have any fur after she had removed all these mats!

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that they could find in her life that could even be construed as unkind. 

Sky had a bank account that was full thanks to the books she wrote…and all she paid for with it, was her rent, her food, her regular mail orders of more books…She even donated to one of the orphanages in Velaris, for crying outloud! 

Sometimes she went down to the fishmonger and bought ridiculously expensive tuna for Hector, who she spoiled rotten. 

Though that one trip to the harbour…where the shadows hid in her handbag…well, that one trip explained why she seemed more than content to stay in the privacy of her own home for most of the time. 

Her stutter got exponentially worse when she tried to talk to another person, when it wasn’t just herself and the cat that she liked reading her books aloud to... 

Especially when the person she tried to talk to was an impatient fishmonger that rolled his eyes at her stutter. The Shadows as Sky’s cheeks turned a ruddy red, embarrassment clouding around her thickly. 

The shadows silently bristled. 

She acquired her tuna, paid silently and then kept her head down as she headed back home, cheeks still read, while blue, blue eyes filled with tears. 

And that…that was just pissing the shadows off. 

She hadn’t even been doing anything! She had just stuttered while asking for fish!

It wasn’t like she was doing this on purpose!

One tendril from the Shadows darted out of her bag, waiting until Sky was far enough away that that idiotic fishmonger wouldn’t think she had anything to do with it…

And then they only needed to loose that pesky little screw that kept one of the legs of his table attached…Screw you, Fishmonger. Let that be a lesson to be nicer to other people 

Another customer accidentally jostled said table just seconds later and the shadows snickered to themselves as the fish went flying. 

The tendril silently returned to Sky’s handbag, as she made her way back home. 

Hector got some of the Tuna cut up into small pieces on the good crystal bowl…and Sky gently scratched him behind his ears the whole time. 

The Shadows silently wondered if Master would enjoy being scratched behind his ears, as well. 

“I’ll ha--have dinner with my family to…tonight. You’ll stay here, al-alright? I’ll be back soon,” she promised the cat. 

Hector just purred at her, nuzzling against her hand before the cat began to dig into the tuna as though he would never be fed again.

Her family. Well, the Shadows would totally come along for that…who knew, maybe her family was just as lovely as she was!

They were not in fact as lovely, as she was.

It started with the very first words of her mother who opened the door, Sky juggling her purse and a paper covered tray from a bakery: “Did you bring dessert? It’s not like you should eat any of that.”

Sky paused at her mother's words, the small smile that had graced her face vanishing like water in the sand.

And then it returned, but the difference between her true smile and her fake smile were so... stark.

"Hi-i. I brou… I brought cake," she said, holding out the tray towards her. "Where do you….Whe-ere do…where do-o you want me to…to put it?"

Her voice was shaking. And she was stuttering…stuttering even worse than she had done with that fishmonger.

“Talk properly, Skylar,” her mother admonished her harshly. “Put it in the kitchen.”

Sky gave a small nod, but her eyes were downcast as the Shadows followed her into the house. 

The Shadows were...not impressed with Sky's mother. It was clear that her stutter wasn’t something that she could help, but instead was something that came out stronger when she was nervous or anxious or around other people. 

Sky set the cake on the counter and glanced towards the dining room. The table was already set, surrounded by other people, that the shadows took in, while hiding in the curtains of the living room: 

Sky’s mother was taller than her, blonde and grey eyed. The shadows also got their first glimpse at what probably was her sister. Looking just like her mother, tall and slender…accompanied by a red haired male. And then there was another blonde male, probably a brother…and an older male, who must be her father. At least he shared her dark hair.

“Ah there you are Skylar,” the blonde female greeted her, her voice sickly sweet.

"Hi Claire. Hi-i…ever…everyone," she murmured looking as though she would rather be anywhere but here.

Her eyes briefly flitted to her father. He gave a small nod, but otherwise he looked… indifferent. As though he did not even care.

"We've been waiting for you," her mother said, her voice sharp and curt, "Sit." Sky didn't respond, just moved quickly to the table. She settled down in one of the empty spots, clasping her hands on her lap.

"...Is this what you call fashion?" her sister scoffed.

Sky looked down at her outfit. 

As far as the shadows could tell, there was nothing wrong with it. I cream coloured blouse, a blue skirt…It was a rather pretty outfit in the Shadow's opinion. Sky looked beautiful and charming to them. 

“Did you gain weight, again?” The red haired male said with a roll of his eyes. “You always had a horrible sweet tooth.”

What. 

Since when did that make polite dinner conversation?

Sky didn't respond, even when the shadows could see her hands tightening around each other, looking down as her mother let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ll never find a male like this,” her mother snorted. “Males don’t like it if girls don’t keep up their appearances. The least you could do is try.”

"I'm...sor...re...sorry," the stuttering had gotten worse, Sky practically shrinking into her seat. She was fidgeting, looking as though she wanted to disappear into herself and the Shadows wished that they could just sweep her far away from here.

“How is work?” Her brother asked flatly at that moment. “Still editing your stupid romance novels? I still think you should do something slightly more useful.”

So even they didn’t know. 

Sellyn Drake was a secret even from her family. But then, if her family talked to her like that and it was…normal…then the shadows weren’t surprised. 

“What else is she supposed to do?” the red haired male asked with a snort. “It’s not like she has any skills.”

Sky flinched, not looking at him. The shadows wondered if that was one of the males that had cheated on her with her sister. 

“Oh, come on, Admon. She has some skills,” her sister said at that moment, giving another winning smile. “She can annoy everybody around her with her inability to speak properly.” 

Wow. 

Sky didn’t even flinch. Sky did nothing. 

She just...sat there through all the comments. Sky didn't even try to defend herself.

The whole dinner went by like that. Comment after comment after comment. About her work, about her body, about her clothing, about her stutter… Sky barely had any dinner because every time she picked up her fork with food on it, her mother was shooting her a sharp look. So she left most of the food on her plate and the shadows wanted to bristle. 

She maybe wasn’t as thin as her mother or her sister but that didn’t make her any less beautiful or any less deserving of food! 

When they weren’t making prickly comments about sky, her older brother Orin and Claire, her sister were only talking about themselves. It was quite useful only because the shadows learned stuff like the fact that Claire and Admon were engaged to be married and that Orin was working at a bank…

But none of that information made it worth for them to treat her like that. 

Eventually the dinner finally ended after what felt like an eternity. Sky looking as though she could hardly wait to leave. She rose, and the Shadows quickly into her purse her as she grabbed her purse and her jacket.

"Leaving already?" her mother frowned, standing as well. 

"I…It's get…getting…late." Sky said, her eyes not even lifting to look at her mother.

The words were barely out of her mouth before her mother's hand darted out, gripping her jaw tightly and causing the Shadows to let out a warning hiss. Sky winced in pain as her mother forced her to look up.

“At least try to be polite, if you are utterly useless.”

Sky's eyes widened in pain as her lip wobbled. She looked as though she was going to cry, her hands clenching and unclenching as she tried to stay calm. "I'm…sor-r-r-ry." She whispered.

But her mother didn't even release her grip. "Don't talk to me like you are the one being wronged. Look at you. Who would want you like this?"

The Shadows bristled at her mother's words. Everyone would want her like this, they thought angrily. We would want her like this.

Sky swallowed thickly, trying to fight her tears. She was trembling, trembling from head to toe.

"I'm sor-rry. Pl-please. Let me go." She stammered.

Her mother simply sneered, and shoved her backwards, Sky nearly falling as she stumbled. "You'll never amount to anything." She said coldly. "You're nothing more than a disappointment."

Sky looked absolutely mortified at her mother's words, tears starting to fall from her eyes as she looked down at her feet. She looked like a wounded animal, like someone who had given up. And it made the Shadows burn with anger. How could her own family be so cruel to her? Didn't they see how kind she was? Or how…how sweet she was?

Sky took a step backwards, and then she was running, practically fleeing out the door, rushing into the night. She was almost running, her breaths ragged as every gasp she took sounded as though she was trying to smother her sobs.

Finally, she slowed down, but didn't stop walking.

She just kept walking, her head down, tears still falling down from her wide eyes. Finally, she slowed down, but didn't stop walking. She made her way back home, shoulders caved in, looking utterly and completely miserable, as opened her door with her key…and then the damn burst. 

And she collapsed right on the floor in her hallway, great, heaving sobs escaping her.  

And the shadows just knew one thing with utter certainty: They were going to fix this. They were going to fix this for her and Master.

Even when it was the last fucking thing they did. 

[munsonsmixtapes]

i dont know if this is already written but could you write reader is chrissy’s bestfriend who likes eddie and chrissy knows about the readers crush and then gets with eddie and the readers is so heart broken but at the end she finally gets eddie thank uu 🤭😇

Eddie Munson x cheerleader!reader

cw: hurt/comfort

You find yourself at yet another sleepover at Chrissy’s. It seems like you’ve spent every weekend there, especially during the school year when she can drive the both of you there. Her house has easily become a second home to you and you really enjoy going over there.

Especially considering that she’s your best friend and has been since you could remember. In fact, you don’t really have any memories where Chrissy wasn’t present. Your earliest memory was your third birthday and the two of you were side by side as you both blew out the candles on your cake. You look back on that moment often and even have a photo of it on your desk in your room.

You’re both on Chrissy’s bed giggling at a movie that plays on the TV, both ogling the male lead who just so happens to look like your crush. If you’re being honest, though, that’s the only reason why you’re watching.

You’ve been crushing on Eddie since the moment you saw him. Unlike everyone else, you seem to see him for who exactly he is, even stand up for him when your friends make fun of him. You don’t know why everyone seems to hate him when he’s morning but a sweetheart, at least, from what you’ve seen.

You’ve only been to a few Hellfire sessions but from what you’ve gathered, he’s super sweet and just all around a goofball. So why people keep calling him a freak and think that he’s the devil incarnate you’ll never understand.

He goes out of his way to help you when you’re lost and it warms your heart every time, making you fall for him even harder. You know it seems silly, but you can't help it. You see the real him, the dside he's aafraid to show to just anyone and that makes you feel special, like you're actually apart of his group.

But the thing that hurts the most is that you know how badly he's crushing on Chrissy, because of course he is. Because she's popular, pretty, and sweet. Because it just makes sense that he would crush on one of the most popular girls in school. Because your life is so unfair that that just makes sense.

"He looks kind of like..." she pauses, turning to you. Chrissy knows all about your crush on Eddie and is quick to tease you about it any chance she gets. She doesn't understand why you would like someone like him where there are plenty of fish in the sea. If she's being honest, though, she only does it because that's the only thing she has on you. Because she's envious of you and that's the only was she knows she can get under your skin. She knows it's wrong, especially when you're friends, but she's jealous of you, , she sees you as a threat, so she'll do anything to get you out of her way.

"Does he?" You play dumb but she's not buying it as she gives you a shove while throwing some popcorn that's sitting in the bowl between you two at you.

"That's the whole reason why you wanted to watch this, isnt it?" She asks with a laugh and you feel your cheeks heat as your secret has finally been revealed.

"Maybe," you draw out the word as you throw some popcorn back and she manages to catch it in her mouth.

"Do you really think it's good idea getting close to him? I mean, isn't he a devil worshipper or whatever?" He's not and she knows that. She's just trying to push your buttons, trying to make you see how wrong you are. Because as your friend, she feels like she needs to guide you in the right direction. Because how bad would it look if her best friend was hanging out with the Hellfire club, let alone their leader?

"No," you shake your head furiously. "He's not at all. And you'd know that if you went to any of the sessions with me."

"I'm busy, y/n, and you know that. And it's not like I'd spend my one free night a week with a bunch of losers. Present company included."

Your mouth falls open at the last sentence and you have to turn away so she won’t see the tears forming in your eyes. Anyone else calling you that would be one thing, but your best friend? Well, she might have stabbed you in the back with how betrayed you felt.

You stand from the bed and turn your back to her, wiping your tears from your cheeks before collecting your duffel bag from the floor and putting the strap over your shoulder.

“Oh, c’mon, y/n,” Chrissy rolls her eyes as you turn face her. “You’re not really leaving because of this, are you?”

“I am,” you nod. “You don’t want to hang out with a loser like me anyway,” you mumble, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you move towards the door, but Chrissy stops you when she puts her hand on her shoulder.

"Look," she sighs, turning you around to face her. "I'm just tell it like it is. Ever since you started hanging out with those weirdos, you've changed. You've been dressing differently," she refers to your outfit which consits of your Hellfire shirt you had worn for the session that night. "And you didn't even come to the game tonight. We were one man down for what? So you could go worship the devil? We really needed you, y/n. You're our best flyer."

"I'm sorry, I just-" You're afraid to tell her that it's because you don't like what you've become by hanging out with the popular crowd. You want to surround yourself with good people and you're sure that the hellfire club is filled with just that. You don't care about their reputations nor understand why Chrissy does.

"You're just what y/n?" Chrissy asks, her words sounding like venom and you step back, suddently afraid of her. "You hanging out with them makes me weird by association and do you know what that does for the head cheerleader? It means that those freaks think they can talk to me and that's all your fault. So if you want to continue to be friends with me, you're going to have to cut them off."

You let her words sink in, and tghe more you look at her, the more you don't recognizer her. The person standing in front of you may look like Chrissy, but she's definitely not behaving like her. And suddenly, you're feeling sick as you realize what you have to do. You don't want to, but what other choice do you have?

"You've actually made this so easy for me. Goodbye, Chrissy," you turn on your heel to head towards the door, but she stands in front of it, preventing you from leaving.

"You're not serious," she shakes her head, a humorless passing through her lips. "You're ending fifteen years of friendships for some guy? What the fuck, y/n?"

"Not, not for some guy, Chrissy. I'm doing it for myself because I deserve better. Now if you'll excuse me," you motion for her to move out of the way. You can paractically see the smoke coming out of her ears as you step aside, but that't not your problem anymore.

You open the door and hurry down the stairs as you feel more tears trailing down your cheeks as Chrissy calls after you.

"And don't think you can ever step foot in here again!"

Oh, you won't. You have no reason to.

You get out the front door and slam it closed as you step out onto the porch, realizing that she drove you home, but thankfully, you live just up the street. And because you seem to have really shitty luck, it begins to pour rain. You don't care anymore, though. You just need to get home. So you sprint that way, not sto[[ing undtipping until you get to your front door, -hurrying up to your room, hoping that your parents dont hear you.

As soon as your up the stairs, you hurry to the bathroom and strip your soaked clothes before turning on the shower. Once it’s hot enough, you step in, and as you’re doing all the tasks, you suddenly feel so much lighter even though you’re sobbing.

You’ve been wanting to end your friendship with Chrissy for a while, you just never thought it’d be like this. Because she’s more worried about her own image than she is about you. That’s the part that hurts the most, you think. She knows how happy being a part of hellfire makes you, it’s the first time you’ve actually felt like you belonged. And here she is, asking you to give it up like it’s nothing because it makes her look bad.

She knows that you’ve never liked being a cheerleader. It was just something that the two of you could do together so she forced you to try out with her freshman year. And yeah, maybe you should have told her you weren’t going to be at the game tonight, but you didn’t want to hear it.

After your shower, you cry yourself to sleep, mourning the loss of your friendship, the memories you had made together over the years, the person you thought you knew but clearly didn’t.

You spend the entire weekend in your room ignoring Chrissy’s calls, trying to work on your homework. She thinks it’s just a little fight, that you were being dramatic, but you’re not giving in this time. All ties have been cut and you’re not going to let her suck you back in. This is for the better, you know it.

-

Monday rolls around pretty quickly and all you’re looking forward to is seeing Eddie. You wanted to go over to his trailer after you let Chrissy’s on Friday night, but you didn’t want to bother him. After hellfire, he has talked about going him and planning the next session so you didn’t want to be a distraction.

He spots you by your locker and makes a beeline for you, hurrying to pull his gift for you out of his backpack. You spot him down the hallway and feel your heartbeat quicken as you realize that he's approaching you. He's got on that big grin and you can't help but match it.

"Hey," he greets. "How great was that session the other night?" He's filled with pride and normally, you would have haearts in your eyes, but not today. You haven't even thought about him the entire weekend, Chrissy taking up every square of your brain.

"Really great," you agree with a nod as you take the book you need for first period out of your locker and put it in your backpack. You can tell that he thinks something's off and you want to tell him about Chrissy and what happened over the weekend. You think it'll make you feel better and Eddie's always a great listener.

"You know, you never answered my call last night, is everything-" Eddie's question is cut off by Chrissy resting her hand on his shoulder and right before you can ask what's going on, she turns him to face her and presses a kiss to his lips. You feel bile rising in you throat as you watch them, that pit that's been in your stomach the entire weekend growing larger and larger.

"Hey, baby," she says as she runs her fingers through his hair. And that's when it all clicks for you. They're together. So, what, first she calls him edvery name in the book and now she's kissing him and calling him baby? How much had you missed since Friday?

She then turns to you and puts on a devilish grin, still running her hands through the hair you had fantasized about touching, almost as if she's trying to taunt you. You can tell by the look on her face that she's up to something and you hate that she's using Eddie just to prove a point.

"What's going on?" You ask even though you don't want actually want to hear it and are pretty sure that you already know the answer.

"Oh," she lets out a laugh that sounds condescending, as if she's making fun of you, and she definitely is. Because, after all, you're more often than not the butt of all of Chrissy's jokes. "Didn't Eddie tell you?" She asks, tilting her head to the side as her eyebrows furrow. "He's my boyfriend now."

In that moment, your vision blurs and you're sure that you're either going to pass out or throw up or both. This is all so sick and twisted, even for Chrissy. None of this was making any sense to you and you desperately needed to find out what had happened over the weekend.

Without a word, you grab her by the arm and pull her into one of the emtpy classrooms. You don't know what she's playing at, but you really want to get to the bottom of it. You knew that Eddie had been crushing on her, but Chrissy wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. And that was a direct quote.

You shut the door and left it cracked, giving Eddie the perfet opportunity to eavesdrop. He ws normally a nosy person, but he just had to know what was going on between the two of you.

“This is low, even for you,” you told her and she just rolls her eyes again then leans against one of the tables.

“You’re just mad that I got to him first,” she replies almost as if she’s bored. She’s examining her nails almost as if she thinks this conversation isn’t important to her.

“No,” you glare at her. “I’m mad that you’re using him just to get back at me.”

“You know, not everything is about you, y/n. Maybe I really like Eddie.” You both know the truth and she hates that you’ve clocked it.

“But you don’t. This is just your sick form of revenge for me ending our friendship. I wonder what Eddie would say if he found out the real reason why you’re dating him.”

Eddie’s eyes widen at the revelation. He knew something was up with the whole thing, but he just didn’t know what. Now he had proof of what Chrissy had done. God, he felt so fucking stupid. He actually thought that she had liked him but apparently he had been wrong.

Before he could stop himself, he was bursting through the door. Anger was bubbling up inside him and he wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do, but he had to say something.

“What?” He spits and the girls turn towards him, their eyes widening as they step away from each other.

“Eddie-“ Chrissy tries to say, but Eddie holds his hands up, cutting her off.

“I can’t believe-“ he lets out a deep breath. “I can’t believe I actually fell for that bullshit.”

“What bullshit? Eddie, I love you.”

“No you don’t. Because when you love someone, you don’t use their feelings for you as a way to get back at someone. Whatever we had is over now.” You can practically see the smoke coming out of his ears and he turns to you, his face softening.

He can see tears welling in your eyes when you look at him and his heart breaks for you. He doesn’t care about how he feels anymore. Being used is one thing, but being used to hurt the girl he likes is another.

He had liked Chrissy from the beginning, but then you came along. And you were sweet and smart and kind and you treated him like he was a normal person, not some freak. He really liked you, but Chrissy had convinced him that you liked someone else. But why would you have cared so much if you had? You like him too, don’t you?

He watches you flee the room in a blur and without another thought, he follows behind you, ignoring Chrissy calling behind him. He chases after you, hurrying down the school hallway as you make your way to the parking lot.

“Y/n!” He calls after you. He’s not going to let you get away until he tells you exactly how he feels. “Y/n!”

You ignore him and head to your car, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. He comes up behind you as you use your key to unlock the driver’s seat door and you can’t get yourself to turn around.

“Can you please look at me?” He asks, the words sounding so pathetic, so desperate, and you feel your heart clench as you hear them.

Without a word, you turn around and Eddie’s quick to wipe the tears away with the pad of his thumb. And then by your surprise, he presses his lips to yours as his hands move up to cup your cheeks.

You’re quick to respond, your lips moving with his as your arms wrap around his neck pulling him closer to you.

“It’s you,” he mumbles against your lips. “It’s always been you.”

“It’s always been you too.”

You stay like that for a while, everything else completely irrelevant except for each other. You just want to be wrapped up in him forever, totally unaware that he had felt the same way until now. And there was absolutely no way you were letting him go.

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoingjustgay2]

Voicelines about you

Arlecchino x Reader

Includes : Tartaglia, Wanderer, Charlotte, Lynette, Lyney, Freminete, Navia, Chiory and ofc Arlecchino

Note : This has been rotting in my Samsung Notes since months lol

Tartaglia

- Have you heard about the Knaves poor spouse? Sneznayas Darling? No? Well, I have seen them only a few times since they decided to reside in Fontain. Or since she made them, it wouldn't suprise me, the woman is intimidating and knows her way with words, who knows what she did or does with them...

Wanderer

- Who? Hmmm, they usually are always by her side, she had never move them an inch from her, or atleast that was before she had them stay in Fontain. But the last time I saw them, I could swear that the ligth had dissapeared from their eyes. And who can blame them, with that wolf of a wife... hehe, she must have ripped them limp from limp by now.

Charlotte

- The Knaves spouse! Of course! They are a hard catch these days! Not that I could Photograph them though, they're the same as the Knave in that regard. If they are dead? I can assure you they are not! I always see them at the mornings when I run to work! Sometimes alone, sometimes with the Knave, but I only have ever gotten a wave out of them. Such a mysterious figure...I wish I could just get one interview, I even tried to write to them! But only the Knave responded, denying it...such a shame.

Lynette

- Huh, I will assume you got that information from Childe. 'Mother' is...different from 'Father' to say the least, they are gentler, have a softer voice. Though if you upset them, that soft voice will turn solid. I've seen it before when a few of my siblings tried to slack off to much. They are even more strict than 'Father' in some cases, but, none of us blame them and whoever talks bad about them...well...you don't wanna know.

Lyney

- So you have heard about them? Was it from the rumors that 'Father' has killed them? Or from Childe? Childe, really? Interesting. Well, when Lynette and I were younger, we have noticed that 'Father' would treat them differently. Just not in a positive ligth, while we liked them. They were... different from the other caretakers, and so we spun a little matchmaking with the help of Freminete. I remember it all quite fondly.

Freminete

- You've heard of 'Mother'? They are kind, I think. Sometimes...sometimes when I wanted to cry when I was younger, they would pull me aside and have me silently cry in their lap, even let me stain their clothes...they would never mention it to 'Father', and act as if it never happend.

Navia

- I thougth they were dead for the longest time! That was untill I overheard the Knave ask one of her soldiers to deliver the message that she'd need to stay a bit longer and for them to prepare the soldiers. I never meet them in person, but...I'd suggest you to be careful with them too. I don't think a Harbinger would choose their Partner ligthly.

Chiori

- I am not really one for rumors, let us just say that I thougth they were made up, but that was untill they came into my shop just five minutes after I opened it on a Monday. They were very adamant about the fabrics I should use and what they wanted, also having their measurements along with them already. I like customer's that know what they want. How I knew that they were the 'Mother'? The presence of the Knave in front of the shop was a big indicator for it, as for some other clues, like the ring, and the fact that they kissed, and maybe because they called her their Husband.

Arlecchino

- My spouse, of course, I've gathered that you have already heard about them.

What I can say about them? Well, as the 'Mother' it is their duty to stay by my side and support me in my work. They do so quite well. You say that, that sounds as if they function as the 'First Lady' or 'First spouse' in this case? Well, I suppose that's true.

- Oh? You wanna know even more about them? Maybe I should get you to meet them then, they have been asking me if they could meet that famous traveler everyone has been talking about, we could arrange something, just be careful, they have been quite timid lately. But I'm sure you'll get along well.

[pieofdeath]

god. pacing. this is ROTD spiff so badly its INCREDIBLE.

so like. i DID intend ROTD spiff to be an asshole!! lord barkis is SUCH an asshole in the movie! he's visibly older than victoria by a good bit. he flirts with her in a way that just feels. sooo gross. there's a scene in the movie that I didn't adapt to the fic because I didn't want ANOTHER pov change where Lord Barkis (IIRC) talks to a portrait of Victoria and says something along the lines of how she wont have to suffer this union for very long. BRO. YOU'RE IN THEIR DAMN HOUSE STILL. I intended ROTD spiff to be similar! just rude and an asshole and unrepentant about his crimes!

and then he just. wasn't. and it's mostly my own fault jakdfjs.

My first mistake was that I made Spiff too young. I made him too close to my age, which made me keep thinking about how I would've felt- I'm turning 20 in march, and I made him 20 in Jan of 1877, which makes him 17 in 1874 when he murders Dan.

My second, and primary, mistake is that I thought about him for too long. When writing the final chapter, I went. huh. Spiff is 20 here, a few years younger than Kevin and Seán (who are 21 and 22-almost-23 in Jan 1877 respectively). and he killed a guy at 17. That's gotta fuck a guy up.

and then i couldnt stop thinking about it. ok. abstracted, we have a guy that has killed a guy and planned to kill another and is still literally only 20. age is not an excuse for Actual Premeditated Murder but you can't tell me that it didn't fuck him up, at least a little. and add that on top of the possibility that he killed the only person who genuinely, really cared about him. how long do you think he deliberated on if he was going to go through with his plan. do you think there was a span of time where he truly let himself love dan. do you think answering "yes" or "no" to those questions makes it worse?

i reblogged this post into the rotd tag back in April. i think that's a good summary of ROTD spiff. a guy who was unloved (woa what who said that) and couldn't handle being loved and made the worst mistake of his life. and proceeded to keep making it because then he could pretend he meant it. spiff can be summed up by "hubris and hates it" i think.

there's a lot of similarities between spiff and jim I think. interpret that as you will. there's actually a really rough idea for an alternative universe where everything turns out fine because jim or grim or someone finds out about spiff's plan to kill Seán before he goes through with it. jim and spiff are murder buddies and rtspiff reconcile- the trio shifts into a strange little polycule in that verse.

and while writing the finale I started toying around with the idea of writing his perspective, and then i listened to a few songs that gave me a few ideas for future events and it was all over. He hasn't left my head. I'm thinking about him ALL THE TIME. I'm only barely exaggerating.

hes a squeaky toy to me. im chewing on him. I'm making him cry. I'm making it better but I'm making him cry.

woa hold on i just rambled a LOT I'm so sorry aksjdfksa I need to go listen to his playlist maybe then ill feel better

[tealvenetianmask]

I want to talk about a kind of troubling reaction I've been seeing to both Apology Tour and Ghostfuckers among parts of the fandom. The person is usually a reaction youtuber but sometimes someone writing on tumblr or twitter. They say something along the lines of "oh, I'm glad Blitz is being forced to confront his crimes/traumas/pain. This is the only way he will finally heal."

That's not how healing works.

I know that reaction youtubers don't always have the most developed takes because they're . . . you know . . . reacting in the moment. But I think it's still worth talking about.

I'm going set aside the people who seem to believe that Blitz needs to be punished for his crimes, and address those who genuinely think that getting a tidal wave of his own trauma in his face is what he needs to heal.

There's an attitude in contemporary culture that traumas are something people need to confront. As in, put on a brave face and dive in like a big boy. I blame capitalism, rugged individualism, and all the pieces of media that tie up a character's arc neatly by having them confront their darkest fears and insecurities. It can put a nice bow on things, but it isn't really how healing from trauma works.

Apology Tour:

Blitz gets confronted by a shit ton of people who hate him, at least some of whom are his exes, who he feels he's personally damaged. The decor and party games are all about killing and torturing him. Verosika confronts him about how much he hurt her. Oh, and then he sees the love of his life, who he's just recently pushed away, making out with another guy- proof, in his eyes, that Stolas is happier without him. And this all reflects the underlying fears he already has about who he is as a person (shown to us by Truth Seekers).

So what was the takeaway? Blitz came to the conclusion that he doesn't always want to be like this (good, but like . . . worth this much pain?). He flops on his steering wheel (relatable). He stops trying to reach out to Stolas (uh oh . . . ). He spends A MONTH spiraling in his own misery and making a mess of all aspects of his life until he's dragged out of it by a caring friend.

The party doesn't empower Blitz to change. It knocks him down and fucking traumatizes him (seriously, images of Stolas from the party show up later in his trauma reel) too much for him to be able to do actually work toward said change. I suspect that if left to his own devices, he would have kept spiraling for quite a while longer. It's one thing to want to change, and another to try to do so alone in the aftermath of a pile-on.

Ghostfuckers

After Blitz drags himself out of his hole of cheesy ice cream and despair to "play sex ghosts" (escapism, again, still knocked down by Apology Tour), infester demon Rolando picks him out as an easy target and assaults him, yes, assaults, with horrific images of his worst traumas and fears.

Not to state the obvious, but Rolando isn't interested in helping Blitz heal. He's trying to kill the guy. He wants to engulf Blitz in his trauma to the extent where he's consumed by it and loses the will to fight back. And as some excellent posts by others have pointed out already, he very likely would have succumbed if not for Millie's support.

Millie helps Blitz get through the onslaught by telling him about what makes him great and how he's improved her life and showing him love and care. And by literally beating the fucking infester out of him. Because there's someone in him who's hurting him, who's re-traumatizing him against his will. She takes him away from the reel of horrible memories.

So . . . do I think that confronting traumas can play a role in healing? Sure. But only if it's consensually (which neither of these situations are) and when the person trying to heal is ready. And most likely in small doses. No one's going and successfully confronting every horrible thing that's ever happened to them in one go.

And in my humble opinion, it's not going to work (for anyone, but especially not for Blitz) alone and without a healthy dose of kindness and compassion (both external and internal).

Blitz has a long road ahead of him toward healing, and it's going to be hard work on his part but also require love and support from the people in his life.

In a wonderful moment near the end of Ghosfuckers, Blitz and Millie work together to get Blitz's wrecked van unstuck and push it back through the portal into Hell. I love it because it's so simple and it kind of tells us everything we need to know. This sweet and salty gremlin has a lot of work ahead of him, but he doesn't have to do it alone.

[hakugin0]

Personal read, but to me Torture Levi happens one year after Bloodshed Levi(the timeline is whatever I want it to be just try me). Hella funny to imagine Mr. Perfect gets himself in shit every year after Halloween. Happy Birthday King, here's your complimentary trauma and see you next year.

Jokes aside (I meme because I care) the slightly more painful bit about the possibility of Torture Levi taking place a whole year after Bloodshed Levi is that he would still not have softened at all or become more trustworthy of MC. His nobles are a thing since he needs them all to see him as perfect and same with the other Kings, but MC who resembles Solomon? (spoilers of both cards and some extra MC bits under cut)

He outright puts himself in danger to give MC a ring during Bloodshed like bestie you're not beating the tsundere allegations in like ever. So yeah you'd think he warms up to MC during the year, not to the degree of some of the other kings like Satan and Mammon, but he must like them at least a bit right?

And then to hear he's been suffering from horrible hallucinations and insomnia (also personal hc that MC has told him they've seen his past, admission of guilt and punishment and yadda yadda, it's Levi you know what to expect) that culminate in him getting kidnapped and tortured??? Like damn PB I know you wrote him to be a perfectionist loner but did you have to go that far?

I tell you what my girl was devastated by that realisation and angry to boot, I like to hc Satan's power also came through in that rescue moment which made Levi even more jealous 'cause how dare she use another King's power in his presence. Imagine she also got properly angry for the first time in his presence after they were back safe. Man I'll need to write something on that later 'cause the thoughts... They for sure are plaguing me. Also the image of the nobles having to hold back Orias only to hear Solomon's Daughter, known soft spoken person who's never raised her voice, tear their King apart in his own bedroom is hilarious.

Also, unrelated, but the bit where he asks MC how they aren't jealous of Solomon despite always being compared to him? Mmmmmm the potential in that whole convo? Delicious, very yummy

[fangsandfeels]

Bioware writing team has a comfy, sheltered life and it shows

I'm sorry, but how come that the only people Inquisitor sent to look for Solas were Varric and Harding? How come that the only people recruited in 10 years of pursuing Solas were Neve and Rook? Do the writers understand that this is NOT how a serious effort looks like?

What about Leliana? Divine or not, she is still Sister Nightingale with an immense spywork. You'd think she won't mobilize everything she has to track Solas and his followers?

What about Josephine? What, she decided "nah, I'm done" and didn't use any of her diplomatic talents and connections to let the Inquisitor's agents have access, permissions or information they need?

What about Dorian? As a political figure, you'd think he will be the first Minrathous contact for the Inquisitor allies, the one arranging things and providing insights?

What about Cassandra and her Seekers? Isn't she interested in stopping another world-ending threat?

What about Sera and her sabotaging potential? If she organized the group of people for performing vigilante acts, people who are her eyes and ears, how come nobody from her group is helping with the effort?

I get it why Varric takes part in it - he knew Solas, the Inquisitor trusts him and his judgement, but for the game to imply that all the responsibility was lumped on Varric's shoulders is fucking disgraceful. I get it writers, Varric is popular character, and you would use him as bait to your heart's content, but the context you've created implies that Varric might have been the only one to take the threat seriously, while the Inquisitor and the rest were doing God knows what.

Varric should have been handing the Rook information on all the contacts they can recruit, all the useful agents, all the people to work with, not tell them to ask Neve because she might know someone because detective (Neve is a good character, but the fact that people who were supposed to spend 10 years chasing Solas look up to her for finding them contacts is appalling).

"Oh, but all these people were in the previous parts and we don't want to mention previous parts because muh new players" - well, you shot yourselves in the foot. Maybe, just maybe, you should have AT LEAST cared more about the choices made in DAI.

Congrats.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Honestly, if the fact that Shirley Jackson was a loving mother of four and ran a household seems incongruous with her status as a seminal Gothic novelist to you, I think you need to reevaluate your understanding of both Shirley Jackson and women as complex three-dimensional people

(Am I talking about the fact that the movie Shirley felt the need to completely write out her children at a time when at least a few of them should have existed? And erase everything she did to keep the family’s lives running smoothly while her husband was busy being a dilettante and failing to write folklore compilations, By actually making him the responsible one between the two of them? maaaaaaaybe)

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

Secret Box

Sorry no fancy formatting or anything here. I got sudden inspired to write this from an anon @moodymisty got Tagging @kit-williams because I know Mr. Turbo is her man Warnings: Hints of NSFW stuff at the very end. Sorry if Turbo sounds ooc I haven't written him at all before so be kind. Also, did not proofread this. MINOR DNI

"Oh I don't know, I would be unhappy too if all I had to was tear things down and war. Maybe he wants to something else?"

"What do you mean? He seems quite happy breaking things."

He watched you frown so deeply, "My little bother was like that, everyone thought he like being mad. Just did not know how to convey his feelings, and felt like he had to stay under father's thumb. But he really just wanted to be an artist. I loved his art!"

"I didn't know you had a brother, where is he?"

"Dead. Died angry and lonely because father wanted a soldier."

His furious hearts stopped in his chest. You saw him. You did not realize it, but you did. It scared him, mad him want to rage and break you. It made him want to keep you close. Show you those things he wanted to forget.

***

"What in the Emperor's name is that?"

"Oh one of those puzzle boxes, some call them secret boxes because once you open them you can keep little important secrets in them!" your smile makes his head spin and his stomach lurch.

He wanted you to smile at him like that more. He needed you to talk to him about the silly little boxes.

"Why do you have so many? They seem pointless, we do not have anything to keep in them."

"Oh, I am far too stupid to open them, but I find them beautiful, each one looks different, opens differently, and all so complex, like people!"

***

Weeks he slaved over his workbench, keeping this secret to all, which was made easy when got the small chance to engage with you. Or most commonly, watch you interact with others, needed to make sure you didn't give his secrets away; at least he tried to convince himself of that.

You thought yourself stupid, but you figured him out in a way not even the damn Emperor himself could. What looked so simple was perhaps the most complex of all.

You wanted to see the art he could create that wasn't for war, how his mind could do if allowed to run free. Called his work art, like it was something to also marvel at.

The primarch looked over his newest creation, the small box was intricate in it's design, how he liked things. But it was what was inside that made his chest feel weak, and yet made him powerful all the same. The primarch of iron was feeling himself soften at the heat that had made a permanent home in his lower abdomen.

When he presented the box to you he did not say he made it, refused to. But as he explained his lie, the look you cast at him shocked him. You knew his bluff. Of course you did.

"Well, whoever made this is a true master! I have never seen something to beautiful before, thank you my lord," you smile up at him, letting him keep his pride and secret, "I know you are a busy man, but should you remember who made this could you be so kind to your serf and tell me?"

Prutabo grunted and nodded, "If I feel so inclined. Let me know if and when you open it."

***

Days and weeks pass and you keep him updated with your progress, he makes comments that hint he isn't too interested, after all someone of his genius would have opened it already. You agree, but you won't give up. You determination makes his hearts feel like they are in knots. How happy and joyful you are over his little toy. The fun you find in testing yourself only just to say you did it. The moments of you updating him live inside his dreams, where he is brave enough to hold your hand and smile back.

The crusade had called him away and like always it kept him longer than anyone else. While his brothers got to reap all the glory he was cleanup, or the brunt hammer to break wills. So of course when the Lord of Iron returned everyone scattered. Hid like cowards.

Not you. Even with him exuding even more of his dour demeanor you came running up to him. Puzzle box in hand.

"My Lord! I know you just returned, but I have been waiting for teran weeks for you to return." you were overflowing with excitement; practically vibrating with it.

It was like a disease that spread quickly, because as you spoke his ire cooled. You were happy he was home.

"Make it quick." though he hoped you took as long as you wanted.

"I am about to open the box, and I wanted to open it with you!" you grin up at him coming closer, "Exciting right?"

You...waited for him. Wanted to share in his happiness with...Throne he thought he was going to burst out of his armor and into flames.

"For someone who cannot easily solve things, I suppose. Well, open it." he grumbled, fighting to keep his mask on.

As you moved the last piece into place and opened the lid, a centerpiece rose up, and thereupon it was a metal sculpting of morning glories rising up and in bloom, the spun slowly as music played. And resting inside the main flower was a small ring, designed to look like vines holding a blooming rose the held a pink diamond.

Oh the look upon your face he would have waited lifetimes just to see it. It made this little box the greatest thing he would ever fashion.

"My Lord...I...forgive me, my words are failing." you whisper still marveling at the spinning flowers, "I love morning glories..."

Perturabo nodded, "I am aware. I do listen..." he wanted to know about the ring, wanted you to wear it.

Let everyone know you were his. That you wanted to be his.

Tears well up in your eyes as you so gingerly take the ring. Without needing to ask he gently holds the box so you might place it upon one of your fingers. He watches intently as you try various fingers before putting it upon your ring finger.

"My..."

"Perturabo. You can call me by my name...should you wish to continue to wear that ring." he spoke so very softly for himself.

Thorne, he needed you to keep it on.

"I will, Perturabo," you say his name to see how it rolls off your tongue and it sounds like heaven to him.

When this crusade is over he will fill this place with sounds of your and his children, and he will cast off all this cold machinery for things that truly mattered to him. Being a toy maker in one's spare time wasn't such a foolish notion. He would not die like your brother, and leave you alone.

"Are you sure you want...I mean... I am a serf, people will talk and I do not want to tarnish your name." you whisper to him, eyes fixed on the ring.

"They would be foolish to speak of it where I can hear." was all he offered.

Your small hands slip over his covered in his massive gauntlets, and he was trembling to get this armor off.

"My Lady, if it pleases you," his voice low and he leaned in close so no other could hear, "I wish to remove this armor, if you would wait for me in my chambers..." he couldn't believe he was doing this! Smoothness and words were not his strong points, but for you, he would try, "There is a puzzle I would like to get to know intimately, work with my hands, would you be willing?"

His face burned as he waited what felt like eons for you to reply. Was this all too much too fast? Was he being a fool?

You take the music puzzle box from him and when you pull back you are smiling with cheeks as flushed as his, "I would love that. Now go before your men see you this shade of red and not yelling. I do not want to ruin your reputation." you tease

Perturabo smiled, "You, I will allow to ruin me." he said before tearing off to get this damn armor off.

[sturnioz]

since shy!reader & nick have hung, has confident!reader met nick? are they friends too? does she, shy!reader and nick hang? whatta bout the readers & the brothers having a day out tgt?

swear every time i get into some sort of writing i’m thinking about “okay… and their daily life? i need it 👹”

note. using shy!readers nickname ‘bun’ and using confident!readers nickname ‘kitty’ for this to make it more easier for me to talk abt !! (i call confident!reader kitty cos of her constant sharp nails and her attitude lmao)

kitty and nick hang out a lot. and i mean a lot. they’re best friends !! they met pretty early in kitty’s relationship with matt and just became close instantly like they’re so similar with their attitudes and their caring towards people who matter to them — so they immediately just clicked.

it took bun quite some time to hang out with both kitty and nick cos she was a little nervous, but they have hung out together a few times !! not a lot unfortunately as bun tends to stay busy with her studies but more often than not, nick spams the groupchat that the trio are in for them to meet up like he wants to see her AT LEAST once a week. (ends up being more than that cos he is persistent and kitty even spams sometimes)

with group outings with everyone (all brothers), it doesn’t happen that much. there’s been a few moments where chris and matt have met up with the trio for some dinner or something, but truthfully chris doesn’t show up a lot cos he’s busy doing his dealing and/or he just doesn’t want to go. matt, however, shows up not only cos he does wanna hang but cos he always ends up being their driver LMAO

[mayfriend]

URGENT: Pregnant mother and her four children in Gaza are burned and without shelter (verified)

Samira (@samiraayman5, @samira-family) is a pregnant mother with four children -- she and her children were sleeping rough after being displaced from their home in North Gaza multiple times, and when she finally managed to raise enough money to buy a tent for them to sleep in, it was burned by the occupation in a bombing of Al-Aqsa Hospital where they were sheltering, and so were her children.

Now Samira and her family are once again without shelter as winter approaches and the temperature is dropping, and her children also need burn medicine, which is approximately $400 due to scarcity, an expense that is on top of the exorbitant cost of food, and the money required to get another tent, as they're currently having to sleep on the hard ground.

Samira is afraid she will give birth not in hospital, or even in a tent, but on the dirty ground: this is extremely dangerous not just because of how unhygienic it is, but because of the serious diseases that are rampant in the Gaza Strip - including Hepatitis C - and Samira's anaemia and asthma, conditions caused by the displacement and suffering of the past year.

At the time of writing (4th November 2024), Samira has raised $2,959 USD out of her current goal of $20,000 USD.

The $400 for the burn medicine is needed URGENTLY so her children can heal from their injuries and avoid infection, as is the money for a tent so Samira does not have to give birth on the ground without even a mattress or tarp - tents in Gaza are currently selling for hundreds of USD, so realistically Samira needs to raise at least $1000 USD as quickly as possible.

If you can give anything to help Samira provide for her children and see to their basic needs, please donate to her gofundme (link: https://gofund.me/18a035a1 verification by @90-ghost) -- she is in great need, like so many others, and has nowhere else to turn.

[ckret2]

Hey, I've been off for a while so I don't know if anyone's asked you this before or not, but I need some help with writing and you're the only smart person I could think of right now... 😭

How can you come up with such great plot ideas?? Like, how can you just come up with a plan and go like "yeah that's gonna happen because he did this to do that." How tf do I even word that? Like, for example, when Bill escaped the mystery shack so Ford wouldn't oof him for good. Like you came up with such a complex yet amazing plan for how they could escape. WHY ARE YOU SO SMART GIVE ME YOUR BRAIN POWER. I had the thought that it took you a while, like maybe years to plan something like this. Idk for how long you were planning on starting this fic, but as someone who wants to start their own manga, and is also heavily inspired by bungo stray dogs, I need help cause I suck at writing. I'm only good for midly funny jokes and somewhat good art (but I have time to improve on that.) Also I'm sorry if this does not make sense 😭 idk how else to word it...

Honestly... the answer is "I come up with plots by spending a lot of time thinking about them" LMAO.

specifically for that plot arc? I sorta came up with it in three phases, a few months apart. Simplifying pages & pages worth of discord chats:

Phase 1 was "well OBVIOUSLY the humans initially want Bill dead right? And OBVIOUSLY Bill wants to escape right? So it would only make sense to have a plotline where they're ready to kill him and he has to escape. Either he can succeed by himself... or, maybe some of the humans change their minds and don't want him dead. That'd show some major character development. That might be cool for the end of the fic."

Phase 2 was "I have two ideas that would make for a REALLY cool dramatic ending of the fic, either Bill's escape or [BIG SECRET], which is cooler? Definitely [BIG SECRET], that's DRAMATIC, that's HUGE, that's GOING PLACES. But the character development from him escaping would be really big. How do I have both?

"Maybe have him escape early in the fic... And I can use Bill trying to escape as the inciting event to give him more freedom to hang out in town, which is a huge goal of mine that needs to happen as early in the fic as possible. But then I'd need to justify why he'd come back.

"Maybe Mabel helps him escape; and then finds out no one wants to hurt him anymore and pleas with him to come back; because them sparing him would be huge character development on their part, but BILL coming back because MABEL ASKED would be even BIGGER character development on his part. But I also want Ford to have a turning point here too. Maybe he also helps with the escape somehow? Maybe it's a SURPRISE that he helps, and that's why the situation has changed enough that Mabel asks Bill to come back. So he's coming back for both of them. Now I just need a reason for Ford to change his mind."

Phase 3 was "while plotting other plots I came up with the reason why Ford no longer immediately fears Bill might kill them all AND a reason why Ford might think Bill has a chance of changing for the better. Now I just need to make up the details of how Bill escapes, what he does while he's out, etc etc. shrinking flashlight, excuse for mabel to leave town, excuse for her to stop BEFORE she leaves town to set Bill free, where's Bill go that keeps him in the area, if his choice is between miserably camping or going back to the shack then there's no emotional impact if he chooses to go back when he knows it's safe, so what can I do to make leaving seem as appealing as possible to Bill so it hits harder when he stays solely for friendship..." this phase was the easiest part.

I didn't start plotting this fic at all until after I made this post. These three phases all happened from like late spring 2023 to I think fall/winter 2023. I don't remember when I plotted phase 3, except that it was AT LEAST before I started posting the locked bathroom plot—because I had Mabel win concert tickets and mentioned her using the size-changing flashlight specifically to set them up for the escape plot.

So, looking at the above? Here's my advice, with more examples from how I do my own ploting:

— Know your character goals, before everything else. "I want the characters to want Bill to stay alive." "(which means I want them to stop hating him AND stop fearing him AT LEAST enough that execution seems like a worse choice than captivity)." "I want Bill to decide he wants to stay near his new friends more than he wants to run off and do evil." "(If this is early in his character development, the power of friendship won't be enough to convince him to stay; so I also need to come up with some evil he can get up to without leaving town.)" "I want Bill to get more freedom to move around the town because half my ideas depend on it." "I want Bill to befriend Mabel." "I want Bill to hook up with Ford." "I want Bill to keep trying to get back into his body no matter what." Etc.

— Usually, you don't come up with plots by going "what would be cool?" and trying to pull ideas out of thin air. You come up with plots by going "what do I want my characters to go through emotionally?" (becoming friends, learning to feel remorse, trying to change forms, etc)

... and then going "well, what kind of thing would need to happen to make that happen?" (To become friends, the two characters need to do things together that make them like each other—which means I need to come up with events that would show each of them why the other's likable, and if need be I need to come up with an excuse to FORCE them to participate in that event together)

... and THEN going "so what physical circumstances do I need to engineer to make that happen?" (Mabel befriends Bill by trying to help him feel better. Why's he need to feel better? He hates his body. How is this hatred expressed (and it needs to be a way Mabel can do something about)? Maybe he'll give himself a shitty haircut. How can she help fix it, it could take years for him to regrow that hair? Well... let's make up a magical way to instantly regrow hair. What's silly enough?)

You take your character goal and then specifically craft something cool around it.

— if you DO happen to come up with a random cool event first... remember what your character goals are. And go, "how would this event serve those goals? What can I put in this event to push one of my other objectives forward?

— when you're working on one part of the story, you always remember what you wanna do in other parts of the story.

When I was plotting early events in the fic, I knew that before the escape plot Ford needed to stop fearing Bill would kill him—and I decided the only way that could happen would be if Bill saved Ford's life, with NO benefit to himself, at great personal risk, knowing it would make his own situation worse, for no reason except that Ford would continue to live—and that seed grew into the entirety of the eclipse arc.

When I had Ford make indirect contact with Bill's cult at the crystal shop and I asked myself what the payoff could be from that event, I also knew I'd need something to tempt Bill to leave town in the escape plot—so that became the cult's role in the fic.

When I needed something silly for Mabel to do in town to prevent her from coming home and finding Bill locked in the bathroom, I already knew I'd need a reason for her to leave town for a couple days to disguise Bill's escape—so I had her win concert tickets in Portland.

When I was writing Bill having his mini emotional breakdown in chapter 39, I already knew I'd be writing a series of flashbacks where Soos thinks over all the terrible things Bill's been through—so when I wrote Bill trying to avoid going outside during the eclipse, I wrote in Bill giving Soos info that would help protecting the townsfolk.

When I wrote the beach episode, I already knew that in future chapters I want Robbie to try to recruit Bill into his emo band, and I want Bill to develop a complex vicarious worship relationship with the local teens' ironic Bill cult—so I had the goth half of Wendy's friend group swing by to have a positive reaction to his pyramid bricks sunburn and let him try to present himself as a fellow goth kid.

When I wrote the summerween plot, I already knew Mr. What's-His-Face gets a plotline way later in the fic—so I used summerween as an excuse for the Trickster's and Mr. WHF's mutual friends to swing by and foreshadow Mr. WHF's eventual arrival.

Any time you have a gap in the story, you fill it by asking yourself, "Well, what's something I want to do later in the story that I haven't set up yet?" and stuff in something that pushes forward one of those goals.

Or, tl;dr: I come up with plots by spending a lot of time thinking about them.

[trudemaethien]

Kyrimorut

I’ve just done another reread/skim of the repcomm books for details of Kyrimorut for @ossidae-passeridae, who encouraged me to do a write up for reference. Some of these facts are explicitly stated, scattered throughout the series, and some are my own surmises. (My main conclusion is that KT considered architecture just about as carefully as the TCW creators did the GAR ranking system. lolsob)

So. In this essay I will

Kyrimorut, Kal Skirata’s refuge for his clone sons, was called a bastion, and frequently described in siege terms. It was also referred to as a homestead and a farmhouse.

“It was yaim—part barracks, part hotel, part married quarters, part farmhouse, the archetypal Mandalorian clan home.”

This stronghold was located in the heavily forested northern hemisphere of the planet Mandalore, a few hours flight north of Keldabe City, within 100 kilometers of a small town called Enceri, and just south of a lake. It boasted a main house and numerous outbuildings, including at least one medical laboratory, animal pens, and a hangar large enough for multiple craft.

Rav Bralor, another of the Cuy’val Dar, rebuilt it at Kal’s request during the war, and it was finished enough by a year in, to house some members of their group temporarily, but was still undergoing renovations up to the last moment before they moved in. She used droids to aid in the construction. The building was composed of brick, wood, stone, and rammed earth, and the (probably local, veshok) planks were joined with interlocking joints. The interior walls were plastered and painted, likely with naturally derived mineral paints; one room was mentioned to be “honey-colored.” The windows were narrow, described as arrow-slits, and the doors were unpowered hinged wooden slabs. The whole thing was large, and the rooms were characterized as airy and roomy at various points.

The layout seems to have been vaguely circular, or a circle of chained hubs, with a central karyai. The lobby was another hub, and there were both surface and underground passages connecting the hubs, radiating out like “the spokes of an eccentric wheel.” For this reason I think there were two floors in the main house with one above, the other underground. There was also a sheltered circular atrium off the main hub, with a roof that slid back, where they roasted meat.

The house had gutters and down-pipes to deal with snowmelt and rain, and given the nearby lake, they would have to have a good vapor barrier for the underground portion. Since the place was rural rather than urban, it was largely quiet, and the homestead's acoustics were such that sound carried well. This indicates to me that likely only the exterior walls were fortified of heavy stone and rammed earth; interior walls were more likely built of wood and plaster and easier to modify if they had some need. Power was unreliable in such a remote setting, so they used wood fires for heating and cooking; everything smelled of wood-smoke. The entire structure was designed to be unnoticeable from the air, and the clearing was not visible until the last moment upon aerial approach.

The karyai was the main living room. In one scene, Kad played on the floor with toy animals (nerf, bantha, shatual, nuna, jackrab, vhe’viin) Atin had carved from veshok wood, Wade Tay’haai played a purple-painted bes’bev (sharp flute), and Rav Bralor brought throat-searing tihaar for everyone. She lived on her own clan’s farm a few kilometers away, and had brought Yayax squad, who mostly stayed there, to visit Kyrimorut. They were learning carpentry from manuals, as one does.

People had their own rooms for sleeping, with couples sharing, along the corridors. Arla and Uthan’s rooms both had exterior windows. Quarters were pleasant, plain but comfortable, with generous mattresses on the beds and a table for personal use.

Then there was a room Etain thought of as the interrogation room, so that’s uhhh lovely.

It’s unclear whether the large table where they gathered for communal meals was in the karyai, the kitchen (which was separated from other areas by a door), or some other room. Wherever it was located, it was possible for someone seated at the table to lean back without getting up and fetch a bottle of tihaar from where it was stored. The table was made of a single large slab of veshok wood, and was big and sturdy enough to use for surgical operation, dismantling engines, or seating a whole clan of armored Mandalorians. They sat in chairs around this table, and Kad sat in a highchair. They used porceplast plates, and mugs for ne’tra gal, a sweet black beer. The head of the household summoned everyone to the table for meals.

The kitchen contained a fireplace and hearth, a chair (where Kal slept), ovens and stovetops, a conservator, enough workspace for at least four people at once, and an adjoining storage area. The kitchen could be a busy, noisy, bustling place, but it was separate from other living areas; people sometimes went there to avoid others.

The 20-30 occupants ate constantly and prodigiously, and never seemed to be lacking. The food was described as filling but not elegant, and was heavy on the protein. They consumed a lot of game; Lord Mirdalan the strill was an animal native to Mandalore and a hunter. Roast shatual, nerf, and roba were mentioned, and they would leave a joint of meat on the table to be eaten all day down to the bone (I shuddered in food hygiene). Fish from the lake were fried in a pan, and they made broth from gihaal, dried smoked fish with a pungent aroma stored in metal containers, one of the staples of Mandalorian ration packs because it kept for years without refrigeration. Also what Kal called Kaminoans, but that’s another story!

We were worried they only ate meat for a while until we came across some vegetables. Kad had pureed kaneta at one point, and for breakfast boiled grain porridge and shirred eggs were on offer. Jilka diced amber root for some dish. Mealbread rolls were also plentiful, and there was a vat of stew at one point. Listed imports via Ny Vollen included flour, grassgrain, pickles, powdered milk, sacks of denta beans, soap, dried fruit, and a bantha bone which was hard to get on Mandalore. The roba they raised themselves.

The roba pen had multiple animals witht at least one boar and one sow with a litter, and despite having veshok posts and walls, the gate was left open. I’m extrapolating that these animals were semi-domesticated and allowed to forage for food but came home to their pen for safety at night. There were rail fences, crop fields, and plans for raising nerf on the property as well. Outbuildings were mentioned frequently, but this was one of the few actually described.

Notable native species mentioned were the large, ancient veshok trees, which were evergreen, hardwood, and straight enough that the table slab was cut out of one large piece. They were ice-glazed and dripping in the spring thaw, so presumably had some defenses against freezing and exploding, or breaking under the weight of the ice, and they populated all the way up to the the polar cap. There was underbrush and bushes, and groundthorn weed, which was very stubborn and difficult to remove entirely. The roba would have helped with uprooting this as they foraged. Vhe’viine were small rodents with white winter coats that lived in burrows in the fields.

The medical laboratory behind the main house (it was necessary to walk around the bastion after exiting to approach it) was a mobile genetics lab/agricultural trailer of the sort usually used for breeding livestock and at racetracks. It was occupied first by Ko Sai and later by Ovolot Qail Uthan. Mereel acquired it, and Mij Gilamar stocked it with stolen/black market medical equipment. When Uthan took over, they built her more lab space. There were rural veterinarians in the community as well; Etain mentioned getting a cryocontainer for a sample from a neighboring farm.

The hangar was situated in a shallow slope to the north of the main house, half-buried in the soil and disguised with netting. It was large enough to house several craft at a time, including Ny Vollen’s ship, Mereel’s speeder, and the Aay’han, among others. Swabbing down the compartments of the Aay’han, replenishing stores, and prepping the ship for the next flight managed to occupy most of an afternoon for four men.

The lake was also to the north, and I believe it was a very large lake, functioning as a heat-sink. It had not fully frozen despite the bitter winter, described as minus eight and thirty degrees colder than tropical (although the temperature scale is not mentioned, it’s likely celsius because of the author’s background). There was ice extending from the shore like a pier, but also mist rising above it in the early morning and frost on the shore, even though layers of snow deep enough for feet to crunch through the surface were mentioned elsewhere at various times. This led my friend to speculate that there could be geothermal activity in/under that lake. Kal and Walon Vau were planning to build a memorial on the near lake shore featuring the armor tallies of fallen clone soldiers.

There was granite in the area, which also gave support to the concept of historical volcanic activity. Their yard sported four chunks, each large enough for at least two people to climb up and perch upon, which had erupted from the surface long ago and been worn down to a weathered polish. Winds came in off a nearby plain. A clear (muddy) area large enough to play mesh’geroya was also near the house.

Enceri had at least one cantina, there was a landmark grain silo at the edge of town, and it was big enough to host a bustling market square, despite being described as more of a trading post than a town. There they could buy, among other things, preserved vegetables, engine parts, and local triple-distilled tihaar, which could double as degreaser for said engine parts.

If they needed more than Enceri had to offer, they could go south to Keldabe. Landmarks of note there included the River Kelita and the Oyu’baat tavern. The Imperial garrison was located near Keldabe.

“But then Mandalore itself was one big contradiction, with heavy industry and shipbuilding sitting cheek-by-jowl with farms that hadn't changed in centuries, sophisticated electronics and ancient metalworking skills side-by-side in the same suit of armor.”

Established clan homes seem to be the usual way of things despite Mandalorians supposedly being nomadic. Their “temporary” structures being wattle and daub also indicates the nomad thing to be a bit of a fallacy. Even so, they had planned a possible relocation for Kyrimorut in the worst case, a bolt-hole on Cheravh. Jaing had taken to calling it offsite hot standby.

So that’s Kyrimorut, which means Final Haven, where Kal Skirata and his chosen family hunkered down in the aftermath of Order 66. My friend says it’s basically Aberdeen, down to the detail of players getting plastered mid footie limmie game. I gathered these details from four books (Hard Contact does not mention Kyrimorut) and compiled them for anyone who’d like to make use of the rundown. Oya!

[winchesterwild78]

The Demon and Me pt 2

Master List 

Characters: Demon Dean x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Demon Dean, Angst, Language, SMUT! 

TW: Demon Dean is very rough in bed. The sex will be consensual, however I wanted to write a warning because it’s not going to be sweet and fluffy. 

A/N: Oh Demon Dean…he makes me feral-sorry not sorry. Just a short story that popped in my head. I have a ton of chapters for other stories half written, but I couldn’t help myself. Dean is now a demon and the reader is left with the weight of his absence, he shows up in her hotel room, and leaves her reeling, Sam and Cass arrive, and Cass gives the reader some unexpected news. 

Minors DNI 18+

A panic filled my body. Then the light turned on. “Looking for this darlin’?” Dean was standing in my room, holding my demon blade. I gasped, “Dean.”

“Hey sweetheart, looking good in my shirt.” His eyes flashed black and then green. I grabbed the blanket and covered my exposed body. 

“Dean, what are you doing here? How did you get in here” I knew the question was stupid before I even asked it. He knows how to pick a lock. That’s how he got in. 

He stepped closer, tossed the knife to the side and smirked, “I couldn’t stay away from you. Your smell is intoxicating. I need you baby.” 

I pulled the blanket up further as he stepped closer. My head low and I had to bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. I knew he was still a demon, but hearing his voice and seeing his green eyes look at me like he loves me was just too much. 

“Dean, I’m not your baby anymore. You don’t love me. You chose this over me, over us.” I couldn’t look at him. My voice was shaking and I felt the sting of the tears. 

Dean stepped to the side of the bed I was on. The one I always slept on, away from the door. Dean’s side was closest to the door so he could protect me. At least that’s what he always told me. 

I could feel his body heat. Then his hand gently cupped my face and turned it up and towards him. I looked at him, his face was soft and I thought I saw the love he had for me. 

“Sweetheart, please. I do love you. I want to be with you. You swore you’d love me no matter what. Remember Cass said we’re soulmates. We belong together, no matter what happens.” 

Tears started to fall, his thumb gently wiping them away. I instinctively leaned into his touch. It had been so long. 

“What about the girl from the bar?” I asked in a soft voice. “What about her? Why would I want her when I have you?” 

My breath hitched, “Dean, I..” I couldn’t finish the sentence, he captured my lips in a soft kiss. My mind is reeling. He was so gentle I lost myself in his kiss. I got up on my knees, meeting him and kissing him deeper. His hands gently pulled me to his chest, and I moaned. 

I pulled back, needing air and I looked in his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of green I’d seen. “Dean, I miss you. Please..” Dean’s hands ran up my body, tracing every curve I’d learned to love because he loved them. He removed the shirt and his lips trailed down my collar bone and to my full breasts. 

My head leaned back and I moaned. My body responding to his touch, I could feel the slick forming between my thighs. I knew my panties were soaked. Dean leaned my body back and he positioned himself between my legs. His bulge pressing against my panties. 

His hands and lips trailed over my body, he kissed every scar and every stretch mark like he was memorizing my body again. Dean’s hands stopped at the hem of my panties, his eyes flicked to mine. I nodded and lifted my hips. My mind screamed at me to stop, but my heart and my body needed him. 

As he removed my panties his hands slid in between my folds. I heard a soft growl from his lips, “All this for me sweetheart?” I moaned and nodded. “Use your words.” “Yes, Dean, please I need you.” His tongue and mouth attached to my clit and pussy. I quivered under his touch. 

He sucked and licked like a starved man. I came almost instantly. Dean lapped up my juices. I moaned and squirmed under him. His grip tight on me as he pushed me towards another release. I came almost as fast the second time, this time his name leaving my lips loudly. 

As Dean helped me ride out my second release my senses were completely gone. Dean, my Dean was the one making me feel like this. My heart ached for it to be true. 

As Dean picked his head up, smiling down at me in my euphoric state. “Mmm look at you sweetheart. You tasted so sweet, different but sweet, almost new.” I smiled up at him and pulled him down to kiss my lips. “I love you, Dean.” 

A smirk tugged on his lips. Dean pulled his shirt over his head and removed his jeans and boxers. His hard length sprang free. I bit my lip, I really missed him. “Dean, baby, please take me.” Dean positioned himself between my legs and his green eyes turned black as coal. 

I gasped as he slammed his cock deep inside me. “Dean, baby, come back to me. I don’t want you like this, please.” “Oh baby girl, you wanted this, remember?” His eyes flashed back to green, but he kept up his brutal pace. 

He would pull out and slam back inside, hitting my cervix and pulling a half scream, half moan from my mouth. “Oh this pussy, it’s all mine.” My legs were in the air, draped over his shoulder as he kept slamming into me. My tits were bouncing so much they started to hurt. 

Tears formed in my eyes. Dean was never this rough, but god my body craved him. Dean held me down, slipped one of his strong hands around my throat. “You take my cock so good baby. Fuck! This pussy was made for me. You better not let anyone ever fuck you. You, your pussy belongs to me.” 

I felt like I was going to pass out, throw up and cum again. Dean’s mouth covered mine in a deep, hard kiss. “Dean, please, slow down.” I begged. “No! I will take you how I want. You’re mine.” I laid under Dean, feeling his hands grip my body tight as he pounded into me. 

In one swift movement, Dean had flipped my body over and pulled me on my knees. He slammed into me, pulling my ass up and pushing my face into the pillows. His large hands gripped my hips as he continued his brutal assault on me. Then without warning his large hand came down and smacked my right ass cheek, hard. I yelped in pain.

Dean was getting close. “I’m going to fill this little pussy up with my seed. Fuck a baby into you. I know you want that.” “Oh Dean, please baby, not like this.” My pleas fell on deaf ears as tears fell. Dean was spilling his hot seed deep inside me. His grunts and groans filled the room. 

After he came he stood, put his clothes back on and left without a word. I laid on the bed naked, a complete mess and utterly alone. I was ashamed I gave into him, and my heart broke because he used me then left. 

I felt his cum spilling out of me. As I got up to clean myself, I winced at the pain in my body. Dean’s marks were peppering my skin and between my legs was so sore. 

I allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I cleaned myself up, laid a devil’s trap out, something I should have done before, and crawled back into bed. The smell of Dean on the sheets and my body. I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach that filled my body. 

As I laid there I felt the bile creeping up my throat. Throwing the blanket back, I leaped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. I sobbed as I began to vomit. Emptying what little contents there was into the toilet. 

After I was sure I was done I flushed the toilet and brushed my teeth. I crawled back into bed, pulled the blanket around me and exhaustion took over. 

The next morning I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the phone and it was Sam. I had no idea what I was going to tell him, how could I tell him I found Dean, allowed him to use me and now he’s gone again. I felt the familiar feeling fill my stomach, I was so ashamed of what I had allowed, it was making me physically sick. 

I answered the phone, voice very weak, “Hey Sam.” “Oh thank god! Y/N, where are you? I got your note and called your sister. She said you broke down and had to stay waiting on the part. Are you okay? You sound off.” 

“No, I’m not. I found him, Sam. I found Dean and Crowley. I wasn’t looking and they were in the bar I went to last night. Sam I…” My voice trailed off. Not sure how much more I could admit. “Y/N, Cass and I are on our way. Tell me where you are. You shouldn’t be alone.” 

I sighed and told him where I was. “We will be there soon, and Y/N, it’s going to be okay. Just stay away from him until we get there.” I thought to myself that was easier said than done. Even though Dean was brutal last night, my heart and body ached for him. I still loved him, and would never give up hope he still loved me. 

After a few hours of laying in the bed I decided to take a hot shower and go find something to eat. Before I left the room, my phone went off with a text notification.

Crowley: I told you to stay away from him. Now all he can talk about is how you tasted last night, how it was different, sweeter, innocent.

Me: I woke up with him in my room you asshole. I didn’t invite him over. Besides, I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. 

Crowley: No, but you definitely invited him in, didn’t you. Now you’ve complicated things and you’re going to pay.

Me: What’s wrong Crowley, is there a little trouble in paradise? His love for me is too strong to keep up this bro fest? You know if you hurt me, Dean will never forgive you. It doesn’t matter how long he stays a demon, I know his love for me keeps me protected, and you know it too.

Crowley: We’ll see.

I sighed as I put my phone away. Walking outside the sun was shining and the air was cool. I walked to the diner on the corner to grab some food and saw Bubba. “Well howdy, Miss. I was about to call you. I was able to get in touch with my friend and he has a hose that will fit. His wife is going to deliver it later today so I should have you up and running by this evening.” “Oh that’s great, thank you so much.” He nodded and walked away.

I walked into the diner, I could hear the clinking of dishes and chatter fill the room. The waitress smiled and told me to sit wherever I wanted, so I grabbed the corner booth at the back of the diner. Dean had taught me to find the furthest table from the entrance so I could see everyone coming and going. 

The waitress came over and took my order. I sat stirring my coffee, a weird feeling creeping up from inside. I played last night over and over in my head, along with what Dean and Crowley kept telling me about me “tasting different, sweeter, or smelling like vanilla and cookies.” It was really strange. In all the time Dean and I had been together, he had never said that to me. 

By the time my food came I was so deep in thought I didn’t realize it had arrived. “Ma’am, here’s your food.” The waitress’ words pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up and smiled, “Thank you.” She nodded and walked away. 

I ate what I could, still feeling sick, paid my bill then left. I decided it was probably a good idea to stay in the room until Sam arrived. When I got back to the room, I turned on the TV, laid down and fell back asleep. The dream I had sent my head reeling. 

*Dream*

Dean had just gotten home from work. He loved his job as a mechanic and was working towards his own shop. I stayed at home working towards my degree. Dean and I were also expecting. Our first child, a boy, was due in a little over 3 months.

I hadn’t realized I was pregnant until I kept getting sick and Dean jokingly brought home a pregnancy test. Taking the test into the bathroom I sat it down, walked away and forgot about it. Dean and I had just sat down for dinner when he asked if we knew if I was knocked up yet. I gasped and told him I forgot about the test. Dean and I went to the bathroom and saw the two lines. 

We were shocked, excited, but shocked. Dean had been having Cass come down at least twice a week to check on me and the baby. It was endearing at how excited and scared he was. When we found out I was having a boy, Dean beamed with pride. 

As I stood cooking dinner, Dean had just come home, showered and walked up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my pregnant belly, kissed my cheek and rubbed my belly. “How are my babies today?” He asked softly in my ear. “We are good, we’re glad Daddy is home, though.” 

Dean smiled, spun me around, kissed my lips and said, “I’m glad I’m home too. I missed you two.” “I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

*End of Dream*

As Dean said he loved me in the dream I woke up, reeling. My heart ached for that life. A normal life, Dean back being Dean, and us together with children. Now with him as a demon and gone, that isn’t possible. 

When I looked over at the clock I realized I had been asleep for hours. I looked at my phone and saw a text from Sam.

Sam: Hey, we are about half an hour out. When we get into town we will head straight to you.

You: Hey, sorry I was asleep. It’s been about 30 minutes since you sent that text, are you close?

As I hit send there was a knock at the door. I walked over, looked through the peephole and saw Sam. I unlocked the door and opened it. 

“Hey Sam, Cass.” Sam pulled me into a hug, “Hey, Y/N. How are you doing? Did he hurt you?” Tears pricked my eyes, “No, Sam. He didn’t hurt me. I just…” My voice trailed off as Cass stepped closer to me, looking concerned.

“Cass, we’ve talked about personal space, buddy.” “Yes, but you smell different, Y/N. You smell like sex, cookies and vanilla.” I whipped my head towards him, “Why the hell does everyone keep saying that. You, Crowley, Dean!” Sam stepped closer, “I don’t smell anything, Y/N.” 

Cass was right beside me and inhaled deeply, “That’s because you’re human. Y/N, you smell like…” His words stopped and his eyes went wide. My heart beat fast.

“I smell like what Cass?” “Y/N, I think you’re pregnant.” The room fell silent. The only sound was the sound of my heart beating wildly in my chest. “Cass, what?” Sam asked, finally breaking the silence. “I think Y/N is pregnant. That’s why she smells like cookies and vanilla. I don’t know why she would smell like sex, though.” I hung my head.

“Cass, are you telling me because I smell like cookies and vanilla you think I’m pregnant?” “Yes, pregnancy always has the same smell, cookies and vanilla.” “But I can’t be pregnant. Dean’s been gone almost 2 months and I haven’t slept with anyone but him.”

Sam stepped closer, touched my arm, “Is it possible, before Dean died and was turned into a demon the two of you had sex and made a baby?” “I guess it’s possible, Dean and I had a lot of sex, so I guess it could be possible. 

I stood in stunned silence. “Y/N, what happened when you saw Dean yesterday?” Sam’s voice low, but full of concern. I hung my head, “I woke up to him in my room, and we…um..” My voice trailed off. Sam’s eyes flashed with understanding, “Oh Y/N, please tell me you didn’t.” My voice barely a whisper, “I’m sorry Sam, he was my Dean again.” Sam gently touched my arm, “No, he’s not. He used you.”

“Don’t you think I know that!? I gave him myself again because I still fucking love him, and after he used me, he just left. Without a word, he grabbed his stuff and walked away. I’m so fucking stupid! Now Cass is telling me I might be pregnant. Sam, what am I going to do? Dean and I wanted children, but Demon Dean, could you imagine him with a baby!?” Tears started falling hard and fast, my chest rising and falling as my breathing quickened. 

Sam didn’t say a word, he stepped closer to me, wrapped me in his arms and held me as I sobbed. “Shh, it’s okay, we will figure this out. First we need to know for sure if you’re pregnant.” 

I nodded and wiped my eyes. Sam said he’d be back, he was going to run to the drug store and get a test and some other things, leaving me with Cass.

The silence was awkward at first, then I spoke softly. “Cass you told me there was a plan for Dean and I, is this what it was? For us to fall in love, for him to become a demon and leave me alone raising our child, without him?” “No, the plan is still in place, you, this child will bring Dean back.” My eyes met his, “What do you mean, Cass?” “This baby is what will help bring Dean back. This child, the product of true love, is destined for great things.” 

I looked at him, not believing what he was saying. I still wasn’t convinced I was pregnant. Then the thought kept playing in my head, what if he’s right. What if I am pregnant and this brings Dean back to me, to us. 

As we sat in silence my heart filled with a mixture of emotions. I was excited at the thought of having Dean’s baby, terrified to do it alone, and even more sad I would have to do it alone. 

What if Cass was wrong, what if Dean, well Demon Dean didn’t care about our child. What if he chose to stay a demon instead of being with me and our child. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Sam walked in holding a plastic bag. He pulled out two different types of pregnancy tests and a bottle of prenatal vitamins. “I didn’t know which one to get and if you are pregnant you should start taking these. He said as he shook the bottle at me. 

I nodded, took the two boxes in my hand and walked into the bathroom, closing the door. 

I grabbed one of the disposable plastic cups I use to rinse out my mouth and collected my urine in it. I dipped the first test in, replaced the cap and repeated it with the second test. 

One of the tests was your standard test, the other was digital. They both took about the same amount of time. I sat on the side of the tub waiting. The few minutes I had to wait felt like it drug on for hours. 

There was a soft knock at the door, “Hey, Y/N, you okay,” Sam asked softly. “Yeah, just waiting. I’ll be out soon.”

Sam didn’t push. He knew you were going through a lot, he was going through a lot. So he figured with this new possibility you were probably extra anxious. 

Your phone dinged indicating the timer was done. You stood on shaky legs, swallowed hard and picked up the first test. Two lines. You softly gasped, picking up the second test, the digital one. Pregnant was on the screen. 

Tears fell as an overwhelming wave of love, excitement, sadness and anger filled your body. You softly placed your hands on your belly. 

You opened the door to Sam standing anxiously, “Well?” He asked as he stepped closer. I looked at Sam and buried my face in his chest, “I’m pregnant, Sam.” Sam held me protectively, “okay, we will figure it out. We will keep the two of you safe.” He then placed a soft kiss on the top of my head. 

I had no idea what I was going to do. 

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[quasi-normalcy]

I need the people in the notes saying "this is why I'll never publish" to understand that this isn't just some random thing that sometimes happens to published authors. It happened to her specifically because she's a self-deluded intellectual impostor who sucks at doing research. Like, you can avoid this by (1) not writing mass market books outside of your field of expertise or (2) if you do, at least talk to someone who actually is an expert at some point during the research phase to make sure that you actually know the absolute basic facts about the field.

I mean, I don't feel bad for Naomi Wolf, but having the entire basic premise of a book you wrote disproven on a live radio broadcast on the grounds that you, at a fundamental level, didn't understand what the hell you were talking about is just so cringey that I can't even bring myself to watch it. Like, I think I would join a monastery and never speak again.