#THAT UGLY ABUSIVE CROW

[xuanhttps]

WHAT THE FUCK KILL HIMKILL HIM KILL HIM

[aboxofcereales]

I think there should be some magnificent writing done of the looming moral dilemma of Elspeth Rook Mercar, the Breaker of Bonds, the firm believer in heroic nonsense, falling for a Lucanis Dellamorte, whose calling is death, the First Talon of the Crows. Because no matter how big and soft his heart is, he’s still unavoidably will lead the organization who helped to save Thedas, yes, but also is intertwined with many of the horrors that the Shadow Dragons oppose. And yet, still she will always choose Treviso, instead of Minrathous.

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[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smutty💦

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he��s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

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@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[quillsthrills]

Sometimes you don’t NEED skin on skin

Just to really bring the point home for those who have not read the Six of Crows duology and think that Inej deserves to “have some fun before she finds her way back to her true love”, or who perhaps think that a love triangle/jealousy drama would somehow spur Kaz into action (do you even know Kaz Brekker?):

For someone connected to the production to caption a photo of the actors with the (crack) ship name of their characters (“Tonej”) and talk about “skin on skin” might seem innocent (”it’s just an Insta post”), but let’s look at the context for those who are upset by this – some of whom have suffered similar traumas and find comfort/inspiration in Inej’s character.

Here is a sample of Inej’s previous experience of skin on skin:

There were young men, old men, handsome men, ugly men. There was the man who cried and struck her when he could not perform. The man who wanted her to pretend it was their wedding night and tell him that she loved him. The man with sharp teeth like a kitten who had bitten at her breasts until she’d bled. Crooked Kingdom p. 274 Kindle version

And these are the men she remembers; mostly she forced herself to go numb, while making all the right noises and moves so Tante Heleen would not abuse her further.

Because she loves Kaz, she tells him she is willing to work on that trauma IF HE WORKS ON HIS. This does not mean that she is itching for skin on skin action there and then, it means she wants to be ready for it if they are to have a future together. 

What if he had come to her, laid his gloves aside, drawn her to him, kissed her mouth? Would she have pulled him closer? Kissed him back? Could she have been herself in such a moment or would she have broken apart and vanished, a doll in his arms, a girl who could never quite be whole? Crooked Kingdom, p. 275 Kindle version

This is her mindset as she boards that ship in S2E8. She does not need a man who is basically a stranger to be her ticket out of trauma – not even a lovely one like Tolya (who in turn does not need or want romance in his life to be fulfilled). She needs healing, a purpose and – as a character – not to be reduced to half a ship in a fling which would be nothing but a waste of precious screentime. 

EDIT: Inserting screenshot of the caption/tagging of the photo depicting Amita Suman and Lewis Tan, just to highlight the clear reference to the characters  and not the actors, whatever was claimed afterwards.

[hey-august]

Inspired by this Anon - may I present to you: Scarecrow Buggy

WC: ~1k Warnings: scarecrow!buggy, he's literally a scarecrow, buggy x gn!reader, verbally abusive ex boyfriend, implied murder, mentions of blood

You needed something for your little plot of land, so why not a scarecrow. While working on the burlap head you decide to make it a clown. Extra scary, right? It should work even better.

And he does fine! He does his job. The scarecrow stands guard in your field and, well, scares the crows. He also scared you a few times. At first, you kept thinking he was a stranger on your property. Eventually, you became accustomed to the looming figure keeping watch over the house.

He also kept you company while tending to the field. It was nice to have someone to talk to, or to work next to in silence. Some days you'd have lunch outside with him. A fun little picnic.

You invited your boyfriend to join you and he spent the entire meal talking about how ugly the scarecrow was. What a stupid choice it was to make a clown. Look, even the nose is all lumpy - how could you mess up a red circle? And his frown is crooked. It's stupid.

You didn't invite your boyfriend over for anymore picnics. You also apologized to your scarecrow. It felt silly, he's an inanimate object, but you felt like you had to. You wanted to. Your scarecrow wasn't ugly. Or stupid. Also, he's not frowning. Maybe your boyfriend needed to get his eyes checked.

Turns out you were right. There was something with his vision - your boyfriend had a wandering eye and "accidentally" found himself in someone else's bed. Of course he apologized when you found out. It was one time (this week). It didn't mean anything. It was just sex. And a couple of dates. With his ex. He was sorry (that he got caught).

In fact, your boyfriend was so sorry that he came by your house late one night to apologize again. While slamming his fist against your locked door. His pitiful cries soon became angry demands for you to open the door. He just wants to talk. You need to understand how much you mean to him. He's sorry, why can't you forgive him? He's forgiven you for loads of shit. No one else will love you like he does. Stop crying. Let him in and he'll comfort you. It'll be okay, he's sorry. He's so sorry.

You didn't open the door. You hid inside, waiting for him to leave. Hoping that each knock would be the last. One eventually was. A knock that sounded more like a thud, followed by an intelligible angry shout. You hear his truck start, the sound of tires on gravel, then silence.

You hardly sleep that night. How could you? And when the sun rose, you didn't feel any better. You felt worse. Because when you looked out the window, the field was empty. Your scarecrow was gone. That fucking asshole must have taken him and left you alone.

Both your scarecrow and ex were missing.

After a few days, your ex was found and you didn't need to worry about him bothering you ever again. That same day the scarecrow showed up again. He was back in the field, but he looked…different. A bit ragged and saggy.

It was going to rain that night and it didn't look like he'd handle the weather well, so you decided to bring him inside. Just for the night. You carefully set him on a chair and looked over your dear scarecrow. He definitely does look more tattered. There were some stains on the cuff of his shirt. Something dark and dried.

You took off the shirt to give it a wash. You also opened his burlap body, while explaining what you were doing, to take out any dirty straw and replace it with fresh hay. Some of his hay was stained… You tossed the red handfuls into the fire without a word and without a question.

The only thing you remarked on was how this scarecrow was different from the other ones you made. The other ones were pecked by crows and eaten by bugs. But this one was special. He did his job and he wasn't even invested. Even though he wasn't, you couldn't help but laugh and call him "Buggy." Something about making up for the absence of creepy crawlies.

The scarecrow's head flopped to the side when you called him by his new name.

So what if his painted smile was crooked (more crooked than you remember) and his nose wasn't a perfect circle? Your Buggy was perfect. And with fresh hay and a clean shirt, he was looking pretty handsome. And as awkward as it felt, you gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

Next was your turn for fresh clothes and you tried not to overthink changing in front of Buggy. He's just a scarecrow. He's not real. His head did not just tilt. And if it did…that had to be because the hay is still settling. Yeah, that's it. You can even hear the rustling.

The same rustling you hear early in the morning, just before your blanket was pulled up higher on your body. Something gentle swept across your body before the shuffling sound made its way to the door and left the house.

When the sun was brighter and you woke up properly, the house was empty and Buggy was back in the field, looking as happy as a clown in a circus.

From then on, you made sure to bring in your sweet scarecrow every night. He had a comfortable spot to sit and rest his bones straw. Some nights you must have brought him to bed because you'd wake up cuddling the straw man. Despite the stiff and uncomfortable materials, you found Buggy's presence comforting and would quickly fall back asleep to the smell of dirt and grass.

Sure, a living scarecrow might be unsettling. Especially a murderous one. But you liked your scarecrow boyfriend. Sorry - your clown scarecrow boyfriend.

[jkriordanverse]

Candy Salad trauma dumping but it's The Crows + some others

Wylan: Hi i'm Wylan and when my dad found out I was dyslexsic he tried to get me to learn how to read and when that didn't work he tried to kill me in a canal. Oh, I brought M&Ms *dumps in bowl*

Kaz: do I have to do this? This is mandatory? Okay...

Kaz: Hi i'm Kaz and when I was nine my dad died in a plough incident and my brother and I had to move onto the streets and we got scammed by this ugly, demonic, terrible-

Nina: hurry up

Kaz: who took all our money and my brother died. I brought Sour Patches. *dumps in bowl*

Nina: Hi so my name is Nina and when I was training as a Grisha i accidently wandered where i wasn't supposed to go and I was hauled onto a ship full of racist and cruel men who probably were going to kill me. I brought Trolli btwwwwwwww :D *dumps in bowl*

Inej: Hi i'm Inej and when I was fourteen I was captured by Slavers and sold into a pleasure house where I was supposed to work at the Menagerie as an "indenture" but turns out she actually charges you for food and drinks and everything so there was actually no way outttttttt unless you become rich which is also impossible because she takes that away and beats you up if you keep anything gifted away from her. I brought Skittles. *dumps in bowl*

Jesper: Hi i'm Jesper and when I was young my mother died using her Grisha powers to save a girl so my father discouraged me from using my powers and when I was fifteen I left to attend university in Ketterdam but then I got into ✨gamblinggggggg✨and joined a gang because Kaz saved me from getting beaten up. Oh, and I have ADHD. I brought Nerds. *dumps in bowl*

Matthias: Hi i'm Matthias and when I was young some Inferni killed my family so i joined the druskelle and turns out they were also really really bad and i got locked into prison for some time where I was forced to fight against a holy symbolism of my religion. I brought marshmellows. *dumps in bowl*

Kuwei: Hiii bitches I'm Kuwei and when I was 15 or so i was captured and my father was killed on the frontier and later I got taken away by Fjerdannnnnnnssssss where I was taken as prisoner and forced to pretend I had a drug to enhance and control Grisha powerssssss. I am Grisha btw LOLZ. Also I brought Haribos. Hope you like it.

Zoya: Hi my name is Zoya and when I was a kid I used to try and gain her affection by giving my shares of food to her and studying extra hard but then when I was nine she tried to sell me to a man over triple my age. I brought kit kats. *dumps in bowl*

Genya: Hi i'm Genya and this creepy weird dude called the Darkling gifted me to the queen when I was young and I caught the king's attention and i got sexually abused because turns out he was a pedophile so i started rubbing poison on my body to poison him but i was on the wrong side- I brought jellybeans. *dumps in bowl*

Bonus: Zoya: Hi my name is Zoya and when I was a kid I used to try and gain her affection by giving my shares of food to her and studying extra hard but then when I was nine she tried to sell me to a man over triple my age. I brought kit kats. *dumps in bowl* Genya: Hi i'm Genya and this creepy weird dude called the Darkling gifted me to the queen when I was young and I caught the king's attention and i got sexually abused because turns out he was a pedophile so i started rubbing poison on my body to poison him but i was on the wrong side- I brought jellybeans. *dumps in bowl*

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Tw nontraditional self harm, discussion of abuse

They don’t bother to bury the scraps of the abuser, leaving his remains to be scavenged by crows. Not that there was much left of him by the time Philza was done. Tommy stands at his side, arms wrapped tight around himself and shying away from touch. His wings tremble ever so slightly, and the pair return home in complete silence. It aches between them, this thing that happened, a throbbing wound both are too scared to touch. But left unattended, it will only fester. 

“Tommy…how often did he groom you?” 

Silence. Pure silence. Okay. Okay. 

Techno is blissfully unaware of everything, and greets them brightly upon return, asking Tommy about the berries he’d been gathering for a cake. Tommy fully snaps on him, screaming awful invectives, and then storms off to Philza’s house with a slam of Techno’s door. The pair wince at the sound of something shattering. Then another, and another. Tommy’s muffled, venting screams echo as he begins to destroy the inside of Philza’s house. 

Philza gently pats Techno’s shoulder. “Not your fault, mate. He just needs…” Philza doesn’t know. Space? Or is that the last thing he needs? Philza himself feels nauseous in a way that refuses to ebb. He lets the rampage continue, tentatively deciding that Tommy needs an outlet. In hushed tones he explains what transpired to Techno, who is about ready to revive the abuser just for the chance of murdering him again by the time Philza mentions the net he’d found Tommy ensnared in. But eventually Techno settles on making a nice meal for Tommy instead, mostly because Philza wants them in ear shot of Tommy. 

An instinct that is eventually rewarded. It’s the pained cry that has them hesitate, and decide to check in. He finds Tommy clutching fistfuls of his own bloody feathers, wings ragged and floor littered with ripped out clumps. When he sees Philza, he pales. Tommy flinches and scrambles back as Philza lunges, wrenching his wrists away. He’s utterly terrified of being ensnared again, but Philza doesn’t know how else to make him stop. Tommy doesn’t try to escape the hold, but that only makes it worse. The child shrinks into himself, expecting punishment for lashing out. “I’m sorry it was an accident I didn’t mean to break your stuff I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t hurt me-”

“Shh, shh,” Philza soothes, carefully letting go of him. “That’s just stuff that can be replaced. I don’t care if it gets broken, only if you do.” 

“It’s too late for that,” Tommy spits bitterly. “What I do won’t change that.”

Horrified, Techno kneels, carefully scooping up bloody feathers. “Maybe- here, if I heal it fast enough they might fix properly.” He pulls out a regeneration potion, and Tommy scrambles back. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“I’m not, alright? I won’t touch your wings.” Techno presses the potion into Tommy’s hands, only for the boy to hurl it across the room. The boar winces at the shatter of glass. “...haha…butter fingers. Don’t worry if you accidentally dropped it, I have loads, here-”

“I don’t WANT them to heal,” Tommy snarls as ugly tears brim over. “I don’t want them at all.” 

It feels like his throat has been slit. “What?” Philza asks quietly, painfully, as if he didn’t already know that. He knew, by the bloody russet feathers clutched in his trembling fists. He knew, by the way the nest has been torn to shreds. He knew. 

“What good are they for? I don’t want to be an avian! Who would? All it does is make me weak and scared and freeze up. All it does is make me want him back.” 

“This…isn’t normal for avians, either,” Philza says carefully. “Once one can fly the freeze instinct shouldn’t happen anymore. Startling into flight at the slightest movement, maybe, but still. Given you’re, eh, slightly older than a five-year-old, this shouldn’t be happening. I think you might’ve reverted to a hatchling phase because of how he treated you. Perhaps remaking developmental milestones might help you move away from chick instincts. Like learning to fly.” 

Tommy stretches a wing out, flicking his clipped primaries. “Yeah, and he ruined that, too, just like the rest of me.” He misses flying so much it hurts. But the shadow of the tower pools over him, swallowing Tommy in shame. For all that he knows it’s all his abuser’s fault, it doesn’t heal the damage that’s been caused. 

“He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“And yet it does hurt, and it’ll never stop.”

“That isn’t true.” 

“It feels true.” 

Next>

[browniefox]

Making a post about just, some anima that show up in +anima, because I love the books and I love anima! I'm just a sucker for humans-with-animal-traits :3

This is rose! She's a cat anima, but doesn't have a tail or ears, just sharp claws, good reflexes/acrobatics, and eye slits!

Daisy is a coyote anima! So like a doggy :D

Sinon has a goose anima! Unlike some other bird anima seen in the series, his wings replace his arms instead of manifesting as separte limbs. Also, he has the same symbol as Cooro, so it gives us a bit more info as to how the symbols may work.

Margaret was a deer anima. She lost her anima when she got older, however.

Cooro is a crow anima. Spoilers for the manga, but he was actually born with his anima due to his mom dying while pregnant with him and surrounded by crows.

Husk is a fish anima, and he got his anima after someone tried to drown him in a river.

Senri is a bear anima! It usually manifests as one of his arms getting furry and having some really sharp claws, the bear spirit of his anima is actually a big part of his backstory, which is really interesting as usually the spirit itself isn't a character.

Nana is a bat anima! She got hers while running away from her abusive father. She kind of resents it, though, thinking that bats are ugly and wishing she got something prettier, like a swan.

[otomeiromylife]

Yandere headcanons - Obey Me brothers

TW: general yandere/abusive/toxic behaviour, possessiveness, mild violence, control.

Lucifer

Uses school rules as an excuse to overly control you.

He’ll make up rules on the spot for just you to follow - it’s not like you can question him?

“This hallway is off limits, it’s best you go home lest you get into any more trouble”

“Your tie is tied incorrectly! Hmph, come here, just let me do it for you.”

“That food is prohibited on academy grounds, do I also need to escort you to the cafeteria?”

And if you ever break the rules… Lucifer ensures he is the only one allowed to punish you.

Be prepared for plenty of hours-long lectures telling you exactly how you need to behave, or else.

Will write bullet-point instructions on every step you need to take throughout the day - if you violate the schedule, be prepared to bow before him in his office, whilst he corrects you.

Always threatens to string you up, like his does Mammon, just to see the fear and uncertainty in your eyes. Though he knows he never will, not from the ceiling, at least.

Mammon

He isn’t the Avatar of Greed for no reason, this man is a collector.

He started off with things you wouldn’t notice, like discarded packaging, or class-notes.

He tried to only steal little things of yours, but sometimes the thrill is better when it’s something noticeable.

He would then steal clothing, like gloves, socks, and underwear.

“Mammon, have you seen my necklace?”

Of course he has, it’s stashed away in the back of his wardrobe, along with all your other shiniest objects.

But he’s not dumb enough to admit that to you, despite popular belief.

He hopes in the back of his mind, that you catch him. He wants you to see how desperate he is for parts of you.

Uses his ability to communicate with crows to watch over you. Crows are like pigeons in the Devildom, they line all the telephone wires, and gather in the busy streets.

Like inconspicuous spies, everywhere you go. This is why he doesn’t like to talk much about his ability, he doesn’t want you to be more cautious.

‘It’s just for their safety, right?’

Leviathan

Uses the ‘innocent wet puppy’ facade to guilt you into spending more time with him.

Over-exaggerates his shyness when it comes to you, the shy boy type always gets the girl in anime, right?

What do you mean you’d rather go shopping with Asmo than play games in his room for the eighth consecutive day?

“I get it… I’m just some disgusting, ugly, otaku…”

Before you know it, you’ve been completely isolated from everyone else. But it’s okay, because all you need is your best friend, right? It’s just you and him in this world.

“We’re the only ones that understand each other.”

Is actually quite confident with you behind his mask of bashfulness, but only because he’s planned out every interaction like a script, with a hundred different contingencies.

But when you’re in his room, just you and him, he has to lock the door, for his own reassurance.

He wouldn’t want any of his normie brothers to come and take you away! Your attention is for him only. And you’re not allowed to leave.

His eyes often linger on inappropriate places on your body - he won’t even notice until it’s pointed out to him. He’ll laugh it off, but he doesn’t care to correct his behaviour.

Thinks of himself as fulfilling the ‘loveable pervert’ anime trope, he doesn’t really understand that it’s not okay, because he sees everyone as anime tropes.

Why aren’t you laughing? Is it because you hate him?

Satan

Curses and spells are his favourite way to make you his own.

Sometimes you find yourself with a craving to see him, there are some hours where you cannot concentrate on anything else, only thoughts of him. That is, until you inevitably give in, seek out his bedroom.

He wants you to trust him, feel comfortable with him. Therefore, spells that make you more obedient and affectionate are certainly not off the table if you’re too distant.

And he can’t help but extend his spellwork to anyone else who may have their eye on you.

A classmate of yours getting too flirty? What a surprise, when they get struck by lightning on their way home.

Some other lesser demon offers to tutor you? It’s a shame they didn’t follow through with their offer, and just disappeared… (they were forever turned into a frog)

Human minds are so absorbent, why shouldn’t Satan ensure that all you know comes from himself?

So what if he slips in a few white lies, if it’s for your own good?

“You’re going to that café with some friends? I heard the owner has a prolific hatred of humans… why don’t you watch this TV drama with me, instead?”

Due to his connections all over the Devildom, he really does give the most romantic gifts. Anything you want, just for you, though maybe you should ask Solomon to cleanse it first.

And if you still resist after that, maybe he will show you why exactly he is called the Avatar of Wrath.

Asmodeus

He’s a designer, there’s no way he’s going to let you go out in those clothes. Everything you wear must be perfectly devised by him!

He will sculpt your image from head to toe, decking you out in all of his own designs, don’t even think about your own style.

“I’m a professional, darling, trust me.”

Your whole look, tailored by him, for him.

What’s more fun than teasing? A few pics on Devilgram of you together with a flirty caption is just called making the masses happy, keep them guessing!

As long as you’re around, all the tabloids are buzzing. The celebrity news sites go wild for paparazzi pics of you and him together - don’t mind how they knew your location - you’re in all the headlines as Asmo’s new sweetheart.

Pressure won’t stop building until you’re finally announcing your devotion to him. And when you do, it must be public of course, it’s always important to please the crowd.

Asmodeus has always been exceptional, so is it not appropriate to give him an exceptional amount of love?

Constant assurance he is superior to any other demon is a must. He must always be your #1 priority.

Will goad you into showing your affection for him in front of the other brothers. Are you not particularly comfortable with PDA? Don’t worry, he’ll show you just how fun it can be through lots of practise.

“I know you love me the most, right? Say it.”

Beelzebub

In the Devildom, it’s the strong that prevail. And thankfully for him, Beel has a lot of strength.

There’s not much room for other demons to get close to you, when there’s the demon he-man towering above you at all times.

He’s always keeping an eye out for your surroundings, he wants nothing more than to keep you safe, although he can go a little overboard sometimes…

In his determination to protect you, he practically assumes the role of your bodyguard. Not that you complain, the Devildom is dangerous after all, he’s just helping you, right?

He gives intimidating glares to any demons that so much as look at you. Silent threats and claims that you are his. Everyone knows that you are off-limits.

But when the occasional demon comes around, getting a little too aggressive, or touchy-feely with you, Beelzebub is not above using force.

Out of your sight, of course, some demons need to be taught a lesson through blood.

Only after they’re knocked out, bleeding on the floor will he jump in the shower, to wash all the ‘grime’ off, eager to return to you, your sweet guardian angel.

Belphegor

He’ll often steal you away from everyone else, some dark and cozy place where you needn’t worry, as long as you’re wrapped in his arms.

His loving arms, that through touch, have the power to alter your dreams into whatever he wants. Perhaps he’ll give you dreams of romantic picnics under the stars, perhaps he’ll give you dreams of the other demons wrapping their hands around your neck, squeezing your life away, only for you to be saved by Belphegor.

He can’t have you getting too trusting of the others demons, right? He needs to make up for all the time he missed whilst he was in the attic, with interest.

Sometimes he likes to dig his nails across your skin, just to feel your reaction. The little mewls you make and the way you push his hands away make his heart flutter, and his head grow even more dizzy and irrational.

Through great restraint his clawing will turn to light caresses and gentle pinches if you tell him to stop. Though that doesn’t mean he won’t start again next time.

After the first few bits of casual contact he won’t stop clinging to you. You’ll always have this drowsy demon clinging to your arm or resting on your shoulder.

He likes to nuzzle into you, stain his scent into you, warning any other demons close enough to smell you of Belphie’s presence.

He understands if after… the incident… you’re much more wary of him, but no worries, he knows just how to make this discomfort go away.

Since his twin is such a trusty protector, he use Beel to worm his way into your blind spot, sneaking behind until he can pounce around your shoulders and never let go.

Don’t think you can spend time with his twin without getting the full package. You trusted Beel, you felt safe around him, you shared your thoughts and secrets with him, but Belphegor knows all that you told him. He hopes the calming effect of Beel will soothe the anxious pressure in your heart whenever Belphie steps in the room behind him. There’s nothing they don’t share.

A/N: crossposted on ao3: girlfawkes

[randompajamaalt]

I'm deeply invested in your Gerry headcannons

Care to share some more? :D

absolutely!! I love gerry so much I have so many hcs for him so I hope you don’t mind if I just.. pour em all out for a second

He makes friends with crows as much as he physically can. Whenever he spots crows in the wild he feeds them and makes friends with them so he’s constantly getting new shiny little trinkets. If he has stuff that he doesn’t want anymore he’ll give it to his favorite crow of the week. And yes, he’s named them, and yes, he can tell all of them apart.

he has heterochromia!  one of his eyes is green and the other is a mix of blue and brown. He wears dark brown contacts to cover them because he was kind of convinced they were a weird ugly flaw from a young age and never really got over it. He used to have two blue eyes, only the right one having brown in it, but over time his right eye(the pure blue one) slowly got greener as his connection to The Eye got stronger. It was almost fully green by the time he got his tattoos.

he would totally have fun in the sky vast

his familial trauma from being abused probably got him into the habit of walking silently, and that only got better with the whole hunt thing, so now he can creep up on anyone without making a single sound. He usually does it on accident

Whenever he’s in a particularly bad situation or a super bad mood the temperature around him goes down. and like- gets chilly. It’s not usually noticeable but sometimes it’s super strong 

SO YOU KNOW HOW HE HAS EYE TATTOOS ON EVERY JOINT. I personally hc they’re all around the same size- kind of small-ish. And if they’re on every joint that means they’re on his knuckles, wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees, ankles, toes, and UP HIS ENTIRE SPINE. UP TO WHERE HIS HAIR ENDS. but hear me out- the jaw is also a joint. WHAT IF. He had eyes on both sides of his jaw.

He pronounces “Chamomile” like “Sha-momma-lay” and nobody has ever bothered to correct him. Gertrude caught it on tape once

I don’t actually think he has a whole lot of piercings. Maybe his earlobes but tbh not much else? Idk why but he just seems like he would prefer tattoos and then just wear fake piercings everywhere else. Like he just doesn’t see the point of going through the whole process of trying to keep the piercings clean when he can just wear cool fake ones.

He likes drawing all over himself. One time Gertrude yelled at him abt it because he was using sharpie.

He loves stickers!! Sometimes he sticks them on books, sometimes on himself, and sometimes just anywhere he can reach. Whenever he passes a craft store he can’t help but buy a bunch of stickers.

He knows a tiny bit about sewing because of all the times he’s had to repair his clothes and sew on patches. He did make a skirt by himself once! Maybe I’ll draw it sometime :D

and yeah that’s all I can think of for now! that uh. was longer than expected. But it was fun!! Tysm for asking I love sharing my hcs :D

[silverloreley]

I kind of want to read, kind of want to write...

A story about an immortal falling in love not with a teenager (we have enough of these) or a beautiful young woman, but with a mature woman or one who was never pretty in her life. A story in which he doesn't look young either (who said only youth is attractive?) and young women don't seem that good to him because they lack that light of life experience.

Maybe a story about a vampire who was turned while in his late forties pushing fifty who falls for the mid-fifties housewife with a terribly abusive husband she can't get away from and whose children are already gone from home and won't help her (they're too far, she was good at hiding until they left and it's easier now that they can't see, she's happy she saved them...), but a vampire is already damned, what's some adultery and murder to him? Or charming his way through the scum's workplace to find the right evidence of tax fraud so the shit can go to prison and she can file a quick divorce, the vamp doesn't mind...

Or a story about a deity who is tired of the world and meets this elderly woman who addresses them with kindness and reminds them the world has its ups and downs but love is everywhere, she knew it when her husband was alive and she knows it now, so the deity falls for her so hard and the pain of knowing their time can finish any minute rekindles their own love for the world. (and maybe they'll do their damn best to try to turn her immortal, she'd be one great goddess of wisdom, if only she wanted to...)

Perhaps a story about a demon who trades in souls and meets this short mafia boss lady who's so smart and cunning she managed to stay afloat in the underground for forty-something years after her father's death (no one dares to say her real age) and she's hardened and the demon thought it'd be easy to make her handle that tired soul that lost so much in all those little wars but no, she's willful and the way she smiles, crow's feet becoming so deep they look like war marks, makes the demon want to give his nonexistent soul to her instead.

What about a fairy former king (he long left his place to his son, he ruled far too long and it was time to step down) who doesn't bother to look young (who cares at that point?). He meets this spinster who brews the best beer ever and they say she's a witch, but it's just that her knowledge of plants rivals that of the fairy king himself, so he keeps challenging her, and the more she wins the more he thinks the marks of age and the ill-placed curves of her body and all the other things that make humans think she's ugly are instead the most wonderful things ever, that he found a treasure, but she's too wary and wise to fall for his promises, no matter how genuine they are, until...

Or even about a woman who was never told she was beautiful or even pretty, who felt out of place and undervalued her whole life long and maybe mistaken for one of her brothers from time to time, goes fishing alone one day and accidentally catches a merman (she's bulky and strong enough to hoist him up alone). The merman had seen women like her, with skin baked by the sun and scars from scuffles, often on pirate ships. Still, none had that kindness and frankness in her, so when she sets him free he's so fascinated he follows her home, and every time she goes out at sea he approaches her and tells her stories she never heard of and listens, really listens to her. He wishes so hard he could convince her to follow him down the sea without her thinking he's trying to drown her and even more so that she believes when he says he thinks she's the most incredible person he's ever met.

And if there was a story about a lawyer, who is tired because she fought all her life for everyone but herself (her career was her only pride), and she lost sight of a world beyond law books and grey buildings. Somehow, on her first vacation in far too long, she meets this forest spirit, old as balls, who looks like a tired grandpa who is ill because of pollution. She vows to save his forest from the industrial nightmare up the valley and while they work on it he falls for her so hard and yeah, she for him too, but his appearance depends on the health of the forest itself so he gets more and more handsome while she gets older and more tired and insecure until she doesn't go back in the forest anymore. But the fact she saved it granted her a wish she didn't collect so the spirit cashes it for her and shares his life with her. And maybe she's upset because he got handsome but she stays as normal as she ever was even if the wish makes her seem healthier, but the spirit finds her so perfect she learns to love herself at last.

Just... stories like these. Where do I find them?

[dangermousie]

The wheels have come off utterly and it’s all careening to hell...

AAAA! The scene in jail is so very ugly. This story is in many ways about two people who love each other but are their worst selves with each other - lashing out, irrational, unhealthily possessive, codependent, aiming to wound etc etc. Btw, as I was telling @aysekira​, I am reveling that in eps 25-26, we actually see book Tantai Jin with his obsessiveness and pitiable rage and just sheer vast unhingedness and everything. We saw small glimpses in the crow murder scene or the stuff on the boat but this is two eps of it and it’s glorious. And the thing is, you watch this and you see exactly how they got there but you also wonder - where do you go from here, how does either of them move on what they did to the other and what the other did to them?

He hits her with the fireball and the fact that it was an impulse but there is no horror or guilt on his face just heartbreak over the situation shows how irrevocably unfixable this all is.

Both are so wounded and still trying to draw blood. The thing is, they are both so shaped by their past traumas (his abuse and her seeing her world wiped out) that Bingchang barely needed to do anything to mess them up - their traumas did the bulk of the work. Until their traumas are addressed, they can not have a functional relationship. What they had before was obviously better than this, but still not functional in the least.

Ooooof!

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Repairing Our Busted-Ass World

On poverty:

Starting from nothing

How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety Net

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Ask the Bitches: “Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?“

Understanding why people are poor

It’s More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich

Why Are Poor People Poor and Rich People Rich?

On Financial Discipline, Generational Poverty, and Marshmallows

Bitchtastic Book Review: Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado

Is Gentrification Just Artisanal, Small-Batch Displacement of the Poor?

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Developing compassion for poor people

The Latte Factor, Poor Shaming, and Economic Compassion

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Stop Myself from Judging Homeless People?“

The Subjectivity of Wealth, Or: Don’t Tell Me What’s Expensive

A Little Princess: Intersectional Feminist Masterpiece?

If You Can’t Afford to Tip 20%, You Can’t Afford to Dine Out

Correcting income inequality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

One Reason Women Make Less Money? They’re Afraid of Being Raped and Killed.

Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better

Are Unions Good or Bad?

On intersectional social issues:

Reproductive rights

On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights

How To Get an Abortion

Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor

You Don’t Have to Have Kids

Gender equality

1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap

The Pink Tax, Or: How I Learned to Love Smelling Like “Bearglove”

Our Single Best Piece of Advice for Women (and Men) on International Women’s Day

Bitchtastic Book Review: The Feminist Financial Handbook by Brynne Conroy

Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace

Queer issues

Queer Finance 101: Ten Ways That Sexual and Gender Identity Affect Finances

Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between

Racial justice

The Financial Advantages of Being White

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander: A Bitchtastic Book Review

Something Is Wrong in Personal Finance. Here’s How To Make It More Inclusive.

The Biggest Threat to Black Wealth Is White Terrorism

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell Now

Youth issues

What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans

The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships

Ask the Bitches: “I Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?”

Identifying and combatting abuse

When Money is the Weapon: Understanding Intimate Partner Financial Abuse

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Say ‘No’ When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?”

Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?

On mental health:

Understanding mental health issues

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown

Bitchtastic Book Review: Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain

Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”

Coping with mental health issues

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

On saving the planet:

Changing the system

Don’t Boo, Vote: If You Don’t Vote, No One Can Hear You Scream

Ethical Consumption: How to Pollute the Planet and Exploit Labor Slightly Less

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

Season 1, Episode 4: “Capitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?”

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights

Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality

Shopping smarter

You Deserve Cheap Toilet Paper, You Beautiful Fucking Moon Goddess

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

Fast Fashion: Why It’s Fucking up the World and How To Avoid It

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

[cyberneticlagomorph]

The Legend of Zebede Masterpost

chapter 1 (general tw for child abuse/soldiers, religious imagery and fanaticism):

there is a boy in the pasture

arson

dragon ivory

barby

cry ugly

splash potion

fireball

Twoby

chapter 2/chest mouth arc (tw for body horror/gore):

Vorpal

BREATHE

dead again

resurrection

a spider's gift

a friend of mine

crybaby

teeth

nothing can fix you

market arc:

Start

Rabbit mask

Home

Avarice

trial by liar

great crow

red carpet

nyarlathotep

set piece

bailiff

favor

verdict

community service

sky painter

[wine-dark-seashells]

Over-analysing the books we saw referenced in Season Two (which I watched all in a go last night from 11pm to 4am and therefore am a little hazy on). If someone has already done this I bow to thee I just couldn't find you.

It's not reflected in my blog but one of my main special interests is Good Omens (and has been since I first read the book, a bit before season one was released) y'all I am ugly crying over the season two finale. If I've missed any books I'll just edit I guess I don't have access to the show anymore so I can't double-check anything. I KNOW Muriel was reading a book that wasn't The Crow Road but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was.

The Colour of Magic - Terry Pratchett (under I for In): On a surface level, it's a fantastic little nod to Mr Pratchett, the book that started the Discworld, and, to top it off, one of the best covers in existence. Funnily enough the same edition we always stocked when I worked in a bookshop but that's not important.

On a deeper level, think about the plot in bare-bones terms. Incredibly naïve tourist from an other-worldly place shows up in a grimy but incredibly magical city with a very odd box and spends his entire holiday with a wizard who is bad at magic. It ends with the tourist floating off into space to go see other worlds. Sounds familiar, right? I'm shaking this season like a small child with a maraca and I am chewing the plot until it is tasteless.

The Crow Road - Iain Banks (under I for It): Look, this one is so obviously significant that multiple people have done it already but I'm adding layers. Crowley gives it to Muriel in the last episode, I'm sobbing, but it's actually first referenced by Gabriel when he's "sorting". The tile is a fairly common metaphor for death, such as he's away the crow road. Other than the fact that it's literally part of Crowley's name, crows are a death omen. He gives it to Muriel for so many reasons and I don't know how it was intended originally but they're curious about humanity and The Crow Road contains one of the most fundamental parts of being human - asking too many questions.

Also, The Crow Road contains a lot of themes centred around death, mystery, and quite a bit of questioning of religion. It could be interpreted as a tell towards Crowley's real feelings about the finale. Metatron is death for him, as a demon, and he's just taken Aziraphale away to "chat". Remind me to actually write down my interpretation of the finale some time.

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (under I for It): See, this one has actual plot relevance and therefore is explained in the show so I don't really think it needs an explanation. However, it is a neat little plot device to show how Aziraphale and Crowley have had very very different experiences with, and therefore perspectives on, Jane Austen herself. I think that's a pretty good way to show how they think and differ from each other in their shared experiences. Also, spitballing here, Crowley is Pride and Aziraphale is Prejudice. ("Of course you turned down Hell, they're the bad guys. Heaven is... good!")

A Tale of Two Cities, Book One - Charles Dickens (under I for It): Come on. This wouldn't need an explanation except, once again, chewing here.

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." is the only bit Gabriel reads out loud, but the rest is along those lines (give it a read, it's fun). All one sentence. I don't really think it needs a huge amount of explanation, except that to me Dr Manette is Gabriel. Quite a bit of the first book is about his release from jail (and, to top it off, he was there because he reported the abuse perpetrated by members of the aristocracy and was put away under a lettre de cachet, something signed by the King and at least one of the King's ministers which could not be appealed). He's briefly taken in by a former servant (who goes on to be instrumental in the Storming of the Bastille) and the man's wife, who own a wine shop together. I am going insane.

No, I did NOT forget Good Omens (under I for It): History repeats itself over and over and over -

I need to go drink some water but Mr Gaiman sir how'd I do.