#abraham. you are hard to draw.

[bethrnoora]

thee fucking guys of all time

[imaginationblur]

“Girl we been knowing how to draw” okay, draw your mains from DBD 😀

Girl…. I’ll be right back.

[prokopetz]

Can you go over what is going on with Paladins and Clerics in DND, not from a mechanical or in universe perspective, but from what different sources/genres/tropes they are drawing on? They always seemed to have too much overlap in the basic concept to me to make sense as separate things in the dnd classes/stock character line up.

Clerics originated way back in the pre-OD&D days, when the game that would become Dungeons & Dragons was still a fantasy roleplaying add-on intended to be paired with your favourite historical wargame. One of the players in Dave Arneson's original Blackmoor campaign had an army whose commander/player character was a vampire named Sir Fang, who proved to be sufficiently overpowered that a mechanical "hard counter" was desired.

This ended up taking the form of a vampire-hunting priest character heavily inspired by Peter Cushing's turn as Abraham Van Helsing in the 1958 Christopher Lee adaptation of Bram Stoker's Dracula; that vampire-hunting priest in turn developed into what would become one of original flavour D&D's three core classes (the other two being the fighter and the wizard – the thief/rogue came later).

The paladin, meanwhile, was originally a direct, 1:1 lift of Holger Carlsen, the protagonist of Poul Anderson's 1961 fantasy novel Three Hearts and Three Lions, and was introduced as a subclass of the fighter – rather than a class of its own – in the 1975 Greyhawk supplement. Over the game's editions it's wandered from being a fighter subclass, to being a high-level "advanced class" to which qualifying characters can switch at 10th level, back to being a fighter subclass, and finally to a core class, where it's generally remained.

So, in short, the cleric was originally a purpose-built hard counter to vampire PCs loosely patterned after Peter Cushing's Abraham Van Helsing, while the paladin was originally for people who just really wanted to be one specific Poul Anderson character.

(I'm sorry if that's not a terribly satisfying answer, but you need to understand that practically everything in old-school D&D is a 1960s or 1970s pop culture reference – it just doesn't read that way to modern audiences because nobody gets the memes anymore.)

[anniflamma]

This isn't a question, but rather a love letter to your art<3.

Thanks to you, I've started enjoying Greek mythology and the Bible again (I mean from a point of artistic, mythological, historical, and theological analysis; my status with any kind of religion is being agnostic XD).

And I already enjoyed Epic the Musical, but I really love the designs you make, how you empathize with the symbolism and lore of the Gods when designing them, and how you make Odysseus so human with his crude expressions that makes me empathize with him (And he's one of the characters I hated the most from Greek mythology lol)

And then there’s your art about the bible, I have to admit that I tend to avoid the biblical religion because of the weight it still has on our daily lives, the damage it has done from the past to this day, and how they deny it with current hypocrisy (I live in Spain, there the official religion is catholic), but your lgbt drawings have really encouraged me to open the bible and see it from an objective and neutral point of view, and just enjoy it as another book and not as something I’m forced to follow.

Also I didn’t know there was so much LGBT content in the bible XD Seriously, thank you so much, if you had a patreon, I would pay you for the amount of happiness and culture you have given me (^///^)

By the way, reading your posts I found out that you recently experienced an internet drama that has become so popular lately. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry that both you and that poor artist had to go through this, that human hypocrisy has no limits or shame, and that I agree with everything you say. Just because we like a character or an author doesn't mean we agree with their crimes or ideologies.

I hope you have a nice day<3

Hi! I’m sorry it took me a while to respond! I mean it, I’ve read this over and over, and it makes me so happy. I’ve been thinking about how to respond, but sometimes it's hard to get it out into words.

It makes me so happy that my biggest interests make others interested in it too. Heck, when people ask questions, I get all giddy!

Talking about biblical/christian saints, greek myths, history, different cultural views and changes was kind of the whole point of why I started this tumblr blog. I have so many drafts filled with random info about LGBTQ+ saints..... Now… I post mostly thirsty drawings of greek gods with hairy chests... T.T

And I sympathize a lot when it comes to religious trauma. I consider myself lucky in these matters, my mom is Catholic, and she has her views that I don’t agree with and hurtful. Yet she still supports me in her way and watching my bible retelling animatics, everytime I post a new bible animatic, she writes me: "What have you done to Daniel..."

I also have my hurts and anger towards hypocrisies too, and I guess this is my way of countering that?

LGBT content in the Bible is something that really fascinates me. I think it's important to keep in mind that people from about 2,500 years ago had very different views when it came to gender and sex compared to how we see it today. In a way, the Bible does have strict social gender expectations, and if you didn’t fit in, then you weren’t considered part of that gender. But at the same time, it acknowledges that your sex. I think it’s in the Talmud were it discusses the fact that, throughout the Bible, there were about eight genders:

Zachar: male.

Nekevah: female.

Androgynos: having both male and female characteristics.

Tumtum: lacking sexual characteristics.

Aylonit hamah: identified as female at birth but later naturally developed male characteristics.

Aylonit adam: identified as female at birth but later developed male characteristics through human intervention.

Saris hamah: identified as male at birth but later naturally developed female characteristics.

Saris adam: identified as male at birth but later developed female characteristics through human intervention.

Some scholars even believe that Abraham and Sarah were Tumtum. A Tumtum is not considered to be very distinct but rather flexible between male and female sex/gender—"sometimes he is a man, and sometimes he is a woman." The simple fact that God said Abraham had a womb and from it, he would have children. Some say that this is why he is a Tumtum, while some historical linguists argue that ancient Hebrew didn’t have the vocabulary for male genitalia yet. Both arguments are valid, and I like them both!

There’s tons of stuff I could bring up—Joseph with his princess dress, Naomi and Ruth, David and Jonathan, and the discussions around whether Daniel was a Saris Hamah or a Saris Adam. We know he was called a saris, but we’re just not sure which. And then there's Jael, whose story is filled with a lot of phallic symbolism, and even her name is very gender-neutral.

I think I’m going to end here. I could yap about these things forever! But thank you again taking your time writing to me and I hope you also have a nice day! <3

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2024 No.9 & No.30

Prompt 9: Bruises

Prompt 30: Holding Back Tears

Warnings: Violence and injuries

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

gif @jaaryl

The moment it happened, the fighting around you dulled into muffled arrangements of shouts and gunfire. A bullet could have hit you and you’d never have known. You could only see Daryl, barreling toward the large man that had grabbed and pulled at your ankle, his intentions no doubt nefarious. The hunter’s momentum was used as a weapon against him, a meaty hand wrapping around his bicep and fisting into the back of his vest. Your leg released, you could do nothing but watch Daryl be spun around and tossed, his back striking the tree trunk with a sickening thud. 

He was dead, you were sure of it. Dead or paralyzed, broken in half and suffering. There was a frantic shouting of his name, you could hear it along with a shrill ringing. The stranger reclaimed his hold on your ankle and began to drag you away, your nails clawing at the dirt as you tried to escape and make your way to Daryl. When everything around you catapulted back into realtime, you realized the screams for the archer had been coming from you. The stranger’s grip fell away, his body crumbling to the ground in your peripheral while familiar shouts began to filter through the chaos. None of that mattered. You were finally able to draw yourself onto all fours and crawl to where Daryl lay unmoving on his side. 

“Daryl!” You grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onto this back, his head lulling lifessly. Shouts and footfalls grew closer, louder, and your body coiled like a tight spring, ready to snap and defend the man lying in front of you. When Rick and the others came into view, you nearly collapsed in relief. The former deputy fell to his knees on Daryl’s other side and pressed two trembling fingers to the hunter’s neck.

“He’s alive.”

Your chin wobbled, the tears you were trying so desperately to control threatening to break through the dam you had constructed. “He hit so hard, Rick. The sound—I don’t know if we should move him.” A hand came to rest on your shoulder, the feather light touch you had come to know was Carol. 

“Come with me, sweetheart.” She was urging you up, pulling you away with her arm around your waist. You consistently turned to see what was happening, a distressed noise in your throat when Rick, Abe, Glenn, and Aaron began to lift Daryl. “We have to get him back to Denise.”

She made sense. Your panicked mind just hadn’t stopped playing through the worst case scenarios long enough for you to think logically. You allowed her to lead you to where the cars were hidden, your head turned to keep eyes on Daryl. 

The relief—and shock—had been so overwhelming that your legs had turned to jelly the moment Denise had said there were no visible bone abnormalities. Fractures were of course still a possibility that she couldn’t rule out. She ordered strict bedrest for Daryl until the swelling and bruising improved. She would examine again at a later time to plan the next course of action and ventured further to suggest he heal at home to keep him more comfortable. 

Rick had carried you home while Abraham carried the still unconscious Daryl. Abe wasn’t that much bigger than the archer but he was stout and able to lift Daryl with ease. You watched tiredly from against Rick’s chest, unnerved by your bowman’s limp arm swinging back and forth with each step. 

“Down or up?” Abe asked, once inside. Rick chewed on his lip, unsure of where Daryl would be best situated. 

“Down.” You offered within a yawn. “His room is safe to him, it’s his space. He’s more likely to stay there. Has the ensuite. Won’t have to leave.” You wiggled until Rick carefully lowered your legs and set your feet on the floor. “Thank you.” You knew your smile was strained but you offered it regardless. “I’ll go get some things together for him, bring more of my things down. I’ll take care of him once he’s in bed. Can you put him in his stomach please?”

“You sure, little lady? He’s stubborn as a mule. You know he’s gonna dig his heels in the minute he finds out he’s been benched.”

You didn’t even answer and continued up the stairs, smiling to yourself when Rick spoke up for you. 

“If there’s anyone that can handle Daryl, it’s Y/N.”

When you descended the steps to the archers room, Rick was sitting on the third from the bottom. He would never leave Daryl alone in such a state but respected the man enough to step away the moment he could. The archer’s scars had been seen by a few that night and while he had been less wary of showing them, it was always by choice. There was no choice for him this time. 

“I’ll be upstairs, Y/N. Just call me. Or Michonne or Carol—”

“Carol’s here?” You asked, confused, while sitting your bag of clothes and other necessities just inside the threshold of Daryl’s room. 

Rick nodded. “Should know we couldn’t keep her away when something’s happened to him.” It was your turn to nod. Those two were best friends. With a nod, you reached for and squeezed the deputy’s shoulder before stepping into the basement room and closing the door behind you. 

Daryl had been carefully placed on his belly, his shirt off. The bruising was profound and brought forth a rolling nausea deep in your gut. His back was various shades of purple and red, his scars even discolored from the trauma. Denise had supplied a few days worth of pain medication that you were all too aware would be a battle to administer. The archer could lose a limb and still refuse the medication out of worry that someone else would need it more than he ever could. 

You moved carefully to sit cross legged beside the prone man, your fingertips whispering over his shoulders in tender sweeps that avoided the mess of bruises. “You can wake up anytime now.” There was an unintentional plea to your voice. 

Still, he didn’t stir. 

It wasn’t until later in the night that you finally heard him groan, felt him shifting ever so slightly. You didn’t touch him, not immediately, giving him a moment to gather his bearings while you inwardly rejoiced to see arms and legs moving, albeit slow and jerky. 

“Daryl.” You beckoned softly, placing a hand on the back of his head. “Don’t try to move, love. You were hurt pretty badly.” You stroked his hair, hoping the action would soothe him but he only seemed to double his efforts at rising. Hands planted firmly against the mattress, he pushed his body upward, making it only a few inches before dropping back onto his belly with a choked off shout. 

“The hell happened?” He ground out between clenched teeth. 

“You became up close and personal with a giant oak. Courtesy of a Savior.” You recalled the fear that took hold of your heart when you heard the collision, saw him land in a heap. “Scared the shit out of me.” 

He was quiet for a few moments, breaths slowing and muscles relaxing. “How bad?” 

“Banged up. Denise says nothing is abnormal but can’t rule out fractures without seeing improvement.” You still worried, even after seeing with your own eyes that he wasn’t paralyzed. Seeing him in so much pain was bad enough. 

Daryl hummed quietly, mulling over your words. “Y’okay?” 

“I’m fine, thanks to you.” Your fingers caught on a tangle in his hair and gently worked it loose. “You should take something for the pain and rest. Denise gave—”

“Should save it for someone who needs it.”

“You need it.” You admonished, no real heat to your words. You had expected the argument, making it easy to counter without anger. When he merely grunted, you knew you’d never win. “Alright. It's here if you want it.” When he began to try and rise again, you pulled your hand away from his hair and waited, figuring he’d plop right back down but he didn’t. 

Daryl hissed and groaned with your panicked hands flailing around his back—not touching—until he was finally sitting up. The exertion through the pain left him pale and panting, his head hanging. 

“Denise didn’t want you moving around, Daryl!” You crawled over to sit at his side, leaning to catch his eye. 

The hunter scoffed. “She want me to piss on the sheets?” 

“Oh.” You reddened. You had used the ensuite as a reason to have him in his own room, but hadn’t given much thought to him actually using it. “I mean—no?”

Daryl gave a humorless laugh. “S’what I thought.” Standing, he remained hunched over, taking several hard breaths in preparation before he straightened. Staggering with a yelp, he caught himself with a hand on the wall, looking every bit as though he might faint. 

“Daryl, at least let me help.” You pleaded, now on your feet and in front of him. He blinked his eyes open, peering at the door as if he half expected someone to be watching, judging. Daryl was nothing if not self reliant, never admitting to weakness even at the expense of his own well being. 

Except when it came to you. 

He gave a sharp nod and gingerly raised his arm for you to duck underneath, assisting in balancing him when his legs weren’t willing to hold his weight. The pain must have been bad. 

“Just—I can make it from here.” He muttered, once the two of you had crossed the room. You didn’t argue, ducking from beneath his arm. The door closed and you moved away to give him privacy, though the silence of the house made it impossible not to hear. 

He was quick in relieving himself and even washing his hands, the door opening slowly to reveal a pain-stricken archer on the verge of defeat. 

“You okay?” You inquired softly. 

He nodded and winced. “Shit hurts.” He grumbled, shuffling out of the small bathroom. He waved you off when you tried to help. Getting back into bed proved to be just as difficult—if not more so—than getting out of it. Once he was finally resting on his belly, he quietly uttered “‘bout them painkillers.”

You couldn’t hide your smirk as you shook two tablets from the bottle. 

It was two and a half days before Daryl could manage to leave his room. He was stiff and sore, his back a painting of yellows, greens, and purples. Denise wasn’t naive. She knew that she could advise until she was blue in the face but he would do as he pleased. There was still the hope that he would take it easy under your influence. 

“Why don’t we go downstairs?” You tried from the porch swing, sipping your water as he carved away at some bolts. “I’ll make some sandwiches and we can use the record player.” He pinned you with an unenthusiastic glare. 

“Tired’a bein’ cooped up.” 

You hummed and tapped the side of your glass when an idea struck. “How about we go do what I suggested and tomorrow, we’ll go for a walk outside the walls?” It was risky. There were saviors everywhere, a war brewing, but that was a tomorrow problem. If you could manage to get the archer to rest for one more day, you’d work it out somehow. 

You knew you had piqued his interest when the knife stopped moving. 

“Y’won’t hound at me the whole time?” He regarded you with an arched brow. 

“Not the whole time.” You teased. “But you carry a gun and I’ll carry your bow. We’ll trade if we need them.” He narrowed his eyes, considering your offer. 

“I’ll carry it myself but keep it off my back.” 

Pursing your lips, you feigned deep thought, tapping your chin. He regarded you impatiently, clearly two seconds from dismissing the entire notion. 

“Done.” You acquiesced. It was better than nothing and much better than what he would have done on his own if left unchecked. “Now downstairs with you while I make some grub.” Rolling his eyes, Daryl sat the bolts aside and pulled himself upright with the help of the porch railing. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, woman.” He griped when you held open the door for him, making a grand gesture of ushering him inside. 

“I love you, too.” You laughed as he snorted and disappeared down to the basement. 

[fan-goddess]

The Epilogue: Where’d all the time go…

Catch up on the fic here!

Authors Note: Thank you everybody for sticking with me through this while I tried to write this going through a writing blockage it means so much to me to know that people were looking forward to this! I hope you enjoy the final chapter of these twos love story 🩷

Summary: Some time has passed since your wedding day, and it appears all you’ve wanted has come true.

Taglist: @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale @helaenaluvr @scarletbedlam @tssf-imagines @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @arcielee @ilikechocolatemilkh @tumblin-theworldaway @skintoskinsstuff @darylandbethfanforever9 (italics cannot tag)

Warnings: P in v sex, pregnancy, kids, dick jokes, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, domestic kink, p in v sex, indirect breastfeeding, domestic fluff, she/her pronouns used, reader is referred to as being a woman (if I miss any let me know!)

Like most mornings in the last few years of being a married woman, you’re not allowed to lay peacefully in your bed anymore.

“Mumma…” you hear a small voice say drawing you from your sleep with a small start. Though when you look to your over to the source of the noise, you cannot help but smile softly as you meet eyes with your daughter Penelope, who in turn stares up at you from the doorway with that small irresistible pout of hers that she knows will make it so she gets her way.

You cannot help yourself from reaching out a hand to her to let her know she can come up to the bed, which she does so eagerly with her arms held up to let you know she wants to be lifted up to be close with you and her father. Usually he’s the one lifting them as he’s forbidden you from doing anything that could harm the baby, but you’d damn him before he gets in the way of you spending time with your babies.

“What’s wrong flower?” You whisper to her after lifting her onto the covers and looking to your right to see Abraham still somehow deeply asleep against the pillow. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No! I’m a big girl! I just missed sissy!” She stumbles, leaning forward to place her hands against your swollen belly through your old t-shirt. She also much to your amusement put her face as close to your belly as possible so she can murmur some illegible words to it before looking back up at you.

“Is daddy still sleeping?” She asks though, pointing to your husband who much to yours and her amusement, at that very moment begins to snore deep into his pillow like some comical pig seen on one of her tv shows.

“Yes he is, So we can’t wake him up! Do you understand flower?”

“Yes mummy!” She quickly nods, flopping herself down between you and Abraham and burrowing her head into a pillow, before closing her eyes and putting her thumb in her mouth.

You yourself try to move back to how you were so you try and get comfy and get back to sleep, but it appears the baby has other plans as it begins to immediately kick you in a way that makes you wince hard in pain.

You get the urge to go to the kitchen and make yourself a relaxing cup of tea, but as soon as you begin to move you hear two very familiar sets of footsteps. With a smile you turn your head back to the doorframe and see your boys Joseph and Elliot, who sleepily stand there with their blankets in hand.

“Hey babies…” You whisper, reaching a hand out to them both so they know it’s okay to come up to the bed. “Any nightmares?”

“No mama!” They both say, eagerly moving to get up and be held by you as you try and balance them both in front of you. Making sure to shush them so they don’t wake up their sister or daddy. Yet it appears to be father like daughter as they both appear to be too deep asleep to hear anything and instead just breath louder into the pillow.

“Do you wanna sleep here?” You say, smiling softly as they both eagerly nod their heads before moving themselves to snuggle next to their sister and daddy. They quickly beginning to snore peacefully away while you simply just stare at your family in awe. Rubbing a hand on your swollen belly as you’re reminded of the other life inside you.

You have no idea on whether you’re having a boy or a girl, but Cora has already made the prediction that it’ll be another little girl. Which you know Penelope would definitely be pleased with given her sureness that you carry her little sissy inside your belly the entire time you told her you were having a baby.

Though after a while of trying to comfortably position yourself just right, the itch in your throat becomes too prominent to ignore. So even if it takes you an embarrassing long time to actually get out of bed and make it all the way to the kitchen, it’s rewarded deliciously with a hot cup of tea and a half eaten packet of digestive biscuits that are hidden at the back of the cupboard where the kids can’t find them.

Soon, even though it’s still relatively dark outside, you find yourself immersed with looking at the dim lights hanging from the place opposite. Watching it slowly swing against the slow wind and the flames flicker in a hypnotic fashion.

“What are you doing up Mrs Lee?” You hear the familiar rough morning voice of your husband ask. A happy smile on your face appearing as before you can turn around to see him, Abraham sneaks up behind you and pulls you against his body gently so he can softly kiss on the top of your head.

Yet when you give him a little pout while looking him in the eyes, Abraham makes it all the better when with an exaggerated sigh, he pulls you in again only this time for a kiss firmly on the lips.

“Happy now Mrs?” He jokes, sitting next to you and placing a hand on your swollen belly almost instinctively. As if he’s terrified someone’s gonna suddenly burst in and hurt you and the baby.

“Very.” You simply say. Placing a small kiss of your own on the skin of his shoulder. It’s the only place you can really kiss him right now without straining yourself too hard and getting a stern lecture from your husband. And not even the fun kind, as you found out sadly enough a few weeks ago when you tried to dust the hanging light in the living with him present.

“How’s my little one doing though?” He smiles, dipping his head close to your belly to speak to it. Apparently Abraham is insisting that the baby can hear him, and that supposedly it’s good practice for the baby to learn who their daddy is. Yet all you hear coming from his lips is while adorable, complete utter bullshit. But why stop him when it’s entertainment for you and is honestly an adorable thing to witness? He did it for all your pregnancies, and it always makes your heart warm when you look at the man you married being so gentle and loving with the child of his not yet even born in this world.

“You been good for your mum eh?” He continues though, directing this particular question at both the baby and yourself.

“Not been kicking much this week. Cora said it were a good sign apparently, but don’t ask me why cause ain’t got a clue at all…” You say, taking advantage of Abraham still leaning over to kiss him quickly and lightly on the edge of his lips.

It’s been the closest you’ve ever been to being physical with your husband in weeks, as according to him, having sex would hurt the baby. Yet with how desperate you’ve been feeling for him be inside you and make love to you like how he did the day after your wedding, you’re actually heavily debating on testing that theory out.

“Why haven’t you let me kiss you?” You find yourself asking though. A small pout on your lips as you find yourself reminiscing on a life before being pregnant. A life where Abraham had kissed you when he wanted, and how he wanted. Which usually, much to your happiness, was always hard and heated, leading to both his and yours clothes being discarded to do certain activities wherever you or him wanted.

“I’ve told you,” Abraham grunted, making it a point to kiss you on the side of your head while he makes himself comfortable sitting next to you. “I don’t want to harm the baby-“

“For gods sake Abraham as much as I compliment it your dick is not so big that it’ll harm the baby!”

“Mummy?” A familiar voice speaks, both yours and Abraham’s heads turning fast at the sound of your daughters voice. Her bunny low in one hand, the other’s thumb in her mouth. “Why are you and daddy fighting?”

“Oh no we aren’t fighting flower!” You smile, motioning her forward and ticking her as soon as she came close enough. It was addictive the way your daughter made you feel so carefree without even trying. When she smiled, even if you were at your lowest, she still manage to find a way to bring a smile on your face. “We just didn’t agree on something and were talking about it! Did we wake you up?”

“Nope! Josie kept kicking me so I woke up!” She continues smiling, yet it soon turns to insesent giggling as soon as Abe scoops her in his own arms and like you did moments earlier, begins to tickle her with little mercy.

The sight of it makes you all the more excited for when the baby eventually comes, as unlike your worries from before you got married, you now know Abraham is an amazing father and husband.

Unlike most women’s husbands, whose wives typically clean and do the chores all before the husband came back home even while heavily pregnant, Abraham actually insists on helping out round the house especially when you’re pregnant. So while you do the polishing and the dusting, he’s the one helping out by cutting up that nights vegetables for dinner or picking up the kids never ending hurricanes of toys. It was messy, and sometimes downright disgusting when you’d find mysterious splurges hidden on the sofa cushions, but by God was it home.

“How about you go wake your brothers up huh little flower? Yuh gonna hang out with auntie Cora today!” You hear Abraham say, knocking you out of your thoughts as you raise a brow at the sudden predicament. As far as you were aware, today was just a relaxing day between the 5 and a half of you, with the occasional dispute over a toy. When was this sudden auntie Cora visit gonna be mentioned to you?

Your daughter though doesn’t appear to really care about the news and simply runs off with her thumb back in her mouth, presumably to ruthlessly wake up her brothers to tell them what daddies told her. So you take advantage the kidless room while you can.

“When were you gonna tell me they were heading to Cora’s?” You ask, turning to him with a single raised brow.

“I didn’t even know myself till a couple minutes ago…” He shrugs, moving to make some toast for you,the kids and himself even though you swear it’s only 6 in the morning. “Sides… with the kids gone then I can prove to you just how dangerous my dick can really be…”

And like that, it was quickly agreed that Cora would be coming in an hour as arranged over the phone. Not that the kids had the same enthusiasm of the idea though…

“But I wanna stay with mama!” Joseph says, eyes watering so much you almost get the urge to call it all off so you can hold him in your arms for the whole day and never let him go. But it’s a good thing your husband knows how weak you are when the kids pull out the puppy eyes, so he makes sure to quickly pull both the boys in his arms so you don’t need to feel anymore guilty about having a day with just you and your husband.

“Well little ones, mama deserves a day to relax what with the baby and all. Don’t you think mama deserves a break?” Abe asks, practically forcing them to agree as they know they’ll get a small clip round the ear from him if they dare mouth you off especially in front of their father.

“Of course daddy…” Your boys say practically say in unison while your daughter just nods refusing to let go of her thumb, before all three of them quickly get distracted by the sound of the front door opening and Cora opening her arms to welcome the three little hurricanes in a warm hug.

You quickly chat with Cora for a bit while Abraham plays with the kids to get them ready and simultaneously distract them, yet somehow she seems to know the real meaning for this early morning conversation and quick to arrange visit. As just shes about to leave, turning to let you know the kids’ll be dropped off around dinner time tonight, she gives you a noticeable cheeky wink before shutting the door behind her. The almost unrecognisable sound of silence ringing out through the room.

A blush forming on your cheeks though as you feel your husband’s strong arms move to envelope you in his warmth not even five seconds after the kids leave. His breath tickles your ear as he moves to whisper in your ear, “I suppose we should make the most of this and head to the bedroom, shouldn’t we Mrs Lee?”

“I suppose so husband…” You murmur back, sighing against his lips as Abraham kisses you deeply and his hands roam along the length of your body. He hasn’t had a real opportunity to feel out the newest changes your pregnancy has given you, and he’s all too eager to get familiar with them.

“So fucking beautiful.” He says, kissing and marking slightly the length of your neck in such a way it leaves you sighing out in pure pleasure. “And all fucking mine too… luckiest man in the world…”

“I thought you wanted to go to the bedroom Abe?” You giggle, yet quickly stop as you gasp and realise the sudden slight sting on your backside was from your husband’s palm coming down on your quick and fast.

“Don’t talk back to me now love…” He groans directly against your ear. “You may be pregnant with my baby, but I can still treat you like the dirty little thing I know you to be…”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You purr, your heart pounding hard in your chest. Yet that sudden surge of confidence quickly disappears as Abraham takes you in his arms and drags you to your bedroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot alone as he continues to stare you down.

“It would be a promise little one…” Abraham this time purrs, a single rough hand of his trailing down your shivering form and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “But I wouldn’t dare think about accidentally harming you in this state. So I’m going to make it a threat this time. But I swear as soon as this baby is out of you and into this world, I’m gonna fuck another in you.”

Your breath hitches as he speaks and yet you can’t deny the way his words make your legs desperately clench together in a way to get rid of that now aching sensation only Abraham can provide you with.

“I can see your legs clenching little one,” Abraham says, gently moving you to the edge of the bed so you slightly fall against the covers in an admittedly not so graceful fashion. Still, you’re so grateful when Abraham chooses to ignore you at your clumsiest and focus solely instead on your quivering form laid out in front of him. “You’re not very good at hiding it from me.”

“I can never hide anything from you.” You admit, smiling as you look up at your husband who himself begins to smile bashfully at your words. “You look so pretty when you blush…” You continue, smiling even more when you see his face manage to darken even more.

“Shut up…” Abraham murmurs, distracting you from his bashful face by leaning over you and kissing you deeply. Very much effectively making you forget everything except your husband’s touch. His lips trail down your neck down to the skin between your breasts, where for the first time in months he leaves harsh no doubt bruising marks in his wake.

“Fucking love this body…. love it even better when swollen with my child…”

“Fuck Abraham…” You whine, closing your eyes as you bask in the feeling of pleasure that for the first time in months is running through your whole body faster than anything you’ve felt before. “I want more!”

“You’ll take what I give you wife,” Abraham grunts, lightly pinching your upper thigh as he begins undoing the buttons of your nightgown, only to stop suddenly as he when his hands trail up the length of your thigh he realises you have no underwear on and are currently almost already fully bare to him to see. “Now what do we have here…”

“They got too annoying,” You admit, finding amusement in the way Abraham can’t stop staring at the naked skin that’s been revealed to him already, apparently too distracted with the idea of you naked and dripping beneath your clothing to think about anything else.

He’s so distracted in fact, that he doesn’t seem to even care about continuing with what he’d previously been doing. Too distracted staring at your barely covered skin to notice your shy bashful face. Yet too distracted to miss how your legs try to subtly move together in an embarrassed attempt to stop Abrahams staring.

“Don’t try and hide from me.” He practically growls, finally looking away to stare instead into your eyes so intensely he reminds you of a predator looking into the eyes of its prey. “Never hide from me, you hear?”

“Yes Abe!” You practically whine, falling apart at the smallest of indecent touches as Abraham pinches the inside of your thighs with his fingers just like he did earlier. Not hard to enough to hurt, as Abraham would never, but hard enough so you know who it is who holds the power right now.

“Good girl,” He grins, tilting his head down again once more as he quite practically tears the dress from your body which shakes in pure anticipation. Eager to be ravished by the man in front of you.

As soon as your body is revealed to the cold air and the hungry eyes before you, your husbands hands make eager work of touching every inch of you. He eagerly takes the flesh of your backside that he can get too in his hands and squeezes it just to make you gasp, yet when his hands make it to the bulging curve of your stomach that same rough unforgiving touch turns soft and gentle.

You can barely even feel him as he traces your curves, his lips kissing just above where your belly button sticks out as a reminder to you that he is still the man who loves and adores the very ground you walk on.

Though when his hands make it past the curve of your swollen stomach to the swollen curves of your breasts, that once soft touch turns greedy once more as he takes one in each hand and grips them just enough for you to need to bite your lip to stifle the pleasurable gasp that’s dying to be let out and heard by him.

Yet if you hadn’t have stifled your gasp, you wouldn’t have been able to have heard your husband’s own gasp. His eyes wide and focused as he realises with a thrill running down the full length of his spine, that your milk trickles slightly down the back of his hands from the rough treatment he showed you moments before.

Before you or even he knows it, your husband is putting the back of one of his hands by his mouth and licking the trail of your milk that begins to dribble down his arm. Abraham hums in delight at the sweet taste exploding on his tongue, and he can’t help but lick at the other hand too. Even sucking at the skin on the back of his thumb to truly savour the unique taste.

“How is it you’re so delicious everywhere?” He groans, leaning forward to kiss you again before swiping his tongue on your swollen bottom lip. It teases the edge of your teeth before caressing your tongue and slipping out back to his own mouth like nothing happened. He leans back and grins as he mimics licking his lips with joy. “Like I said. Fucking delicious…”

You can’t help but blush at his words, yet you can’t help but want more from him. Want his hands to touch your inner parts. Want his lips to leave marks that’ll make the other wives envious of what you have with your husband. Want his cock too-

You gasp when his cock teases your entrance, and you can’t help but whine especially hard as he pushes himself deep inside of you. His hips connecting with yours as he leans forward and in a sort of sweet way bangs his forehead against your own.

“Beg me for my cock…” Abraham groans, his breath slightly fanning your lips. “Do it for me…”

“What’s the magic word sweet husband?” You can’t help but tease, relishing in the shiver you can feel run down his spine as your breath tickles his own lips.

“You know I hate it when you tease me…”

“Well then it’s not good for you that I oh so adore it…”

“Little minx… you never fail to surprise me.” He admits, kissing the side of your head that faces him.

“And you always seem to love it no matter how much you say you despise it.” You laugh back, leaning into his warm touch.

The two of you in that moment feel as close as you can be. His cock which still lays inside of you is actively pulsing against your warm walls, and yet he makes no move to begin fucking you. Instead his head merely moves to sit in the crook of your neck, where his lips begin to leave small marks in his wake, and his hand leaves delighted butterfly’s in your belly as he caresses your swollen stomach with utter care and devotion.

“I love you…” He whispers against your skin.

“I love you too…” You immediately whisper back, tilting your head to kiss his damp salty forehead. Giggling as he begins to adjust himself yet moaning as his hips finally begin what they’d earlier started to do.

His lips find yours while his cock slowly moves inside you, muffling the sounds of yours and his pleasure. Though soon its admittedly too slow for both of you, as Abrahams hips begin to smack against your own. The sound of yours and his wet skin making contact both loudly and sinfully.

"Fucking beautiful..." Abraham groans, looking down at you with dark hooded eyes. "Fucking perfect wife..."

"Perfect fucking husband..." You groan back, pushing your heavy breasts further against his chest. Reminding him of the treasures he has yet to fully ravish while he takes you.

Your massive belly doesn't exactly give your husband much room to work with, yet that doesn't at all mean he won't still try. As while he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of you, his earlier worries about supposedly hurting the baby long forgotten in the wind, his lips move from your lips onto the part of your breast he can actually bend his neck far down enough to mark. He nips at it slightly with his teeth, and its not long before that small area is marked and bitten much to Abrahams content. The skin already blooming a deep purple that leaves Abraham glowing in pure pride.

"They'll all know who you belong too," He grunts, giving you a break from the roughness as he possessively kisses the side of your forehead. It’s a reminder of what started this whole thing off.

"As if the four kids you've already given me isn't enough..." You can't help but sigh, kissing his bare shoulder. You make a strange sort of giggle when Abraham playfully pinches your side, yet as soon as he begins to pick up the pace you quickly begin gasping and whining right up against his ear.

The knot in your stomach twists and turns as you’re hurdled closer to your impending orgasm, and by the why your husband pants against your own ear and groans so deliciously you can make a clear guess and say his own orgasm is approaching too.

“Fucking love you,” He gasps, interlocking one of his hands in your own and clutching you tight as if he was afraid you’d suddenly get up and leave him. “So much…”

“I love you too!” You say back, whining loudly as his cock manages to hit the special place inside you that always makes you act loud and shameless.

Abraham grins as his only free hand comes down to caress your bump, making sure it’s safe as his hips somehow manage to move even faster just so he can try and hit that spot inside you again that made you react like that. Which he does. Multiple times…

“Oh fuck!” You yell, mouth hanging wide open as your orgasm washes over you. Your grip on your husbands hand tight as you attempt to ground yourself from being swept away by it all. With this being your first orgasm in a while, it'd make sense for you to practically go insane at the moment.

Your heart is all aflutter as you feel Abrahams hips jerk and bump against your own as he orgasms. The feeling of your walls clenching hard around his cock forcing him to cum deep inside you. If you hadn't already been pregnant at that moment, Abraham can't help but think with a smug smirk how you definitely would've been after that.

Abraham leans his body against yours as he manages to move both himself and you in a spot against the bed where somehow the two of you are comfortable.

Or at least you're comfortable, as most of the pillows and the spare decorative cushions are being used to make sure your belly isn't in an awkward position.

Abraham however makes sure he is left with the very flat and used pillow with the stiff uncomfortable cushion that is placed under it so Abraham can sleep with his head at a tilt. You can see that him wince slightly as a feather manages to pierce his cheek through the weak pillow fabric and offer to get him a cushion from the sofa, or even a pillow from the kids room given that they'll be away pretty much the whole evening. But if there's one thing for sure you know about your husband it's that he's stubborn as a mule in his ways. So he emphasises he's fine as he makes sure to prioritise your comfort over his own.

It doesn't matter how long the two of you spend in each others arms, but as soon as you make one small complaint about the uncomfortable feeling around your lower area, Abraham is immediately up on his feed still naked in order to fetch you a dampened cloth. He is careful and loving as he makes the cloth make contact with your sensitive body. Whispering small words of sweet affirmation against your skin. Even kissing slightly the area of your inner thigh, which leaves you glaring down at him from where you lay as you admittedly manage to find yourself aroused by the whole scenario in front of you.

When first thinking about having a husband, you never would've thought you would have a husband who prioritises your pleasure over his own. And yet here you are with a man practically on his knees for you, making sure you are okay as he carefully wipes away his remaining climax from your inner thighs.

"How are you feeling Mrs Lee?" You hear Abraham say, no doubt with a smirk on his face as he kisses your inner thigh.

"Oh I am feeling very well Mr Lee..." You can't help but giggle back, smiling as Abraham comes up from between your legs and positions himself next to you so he can be near you as much as possible.

His lips softly kiss the length of your neck, not leaving marks in a possessive manner, but doing it instead to be comforting. He moves you so your head is tucked near to his chin and your stomach is pretty much propped up by his own torso. His left arm is wrapped around your body to bring you in, which you eagerly accept in order to embrace your husband, while his right arm moves so he can place it on your stomach.

You feel so at peace, that you can't help but close your eyes and allow yourself to relax in your husbands arms. You feel safe, and oh so happy that you said yes to Abrahams proposal all those years ago. So safe that within minutes you actually find yourself falling asleep to the sound of Abrahams heartbeat.

Abraham watches you while you sleep, his eyes unable to look away from the beautiful woman before him. He has no idea how he managed to achieve this. How he managed to get a wife who loves him as much as he adores her. How he managed to have three, about to be four wonderful children with this woman, he will never really know. But all he does know, is that he's so grateful for being able to be gifted this gift. Abraham grabs the bed cover and covers the two of you under it so the three of you, but mainly so you and the baby are warm, and closes his eyes allowing himself time to indulge in your loving embrace.

A FEW MONTHS LATER

When the baby came, you were surrounded by those who cared for you. The kids weren’t allowed in the room due to how scary you and Abraham knew it would’ve been for them to see you in such pain so young, so thankfully one of your friends from your old friendship group offered to look after them and keep them out of trouble for the few hours while you gave birth.

So with your husband holding your hand on one side and your mother on the other cheering you on, you managed to give birth to a beautiful baby girl. A daughter that without telling your husband, you had decided to name Lily. When you told Abraham what her name going to be, before that day you had never seen him cry like that. Yet now, he was allowing himself to be as vulnerable as he ever could be in front of you as everyone else had left seeing this was a private moment between your family.

He is unable to look away from you as you hold the baby in your arms, same as you find yourself unable to look away from him when he all of a sudden drops to his knees before you laying on the bed and places his arms by the baby to stroke her face.

"Thank you my love..." Abraham murmurs, leaning forward to place a kiss on your admittedly very sweaty forehead. "Thank you for this gift..."

"Thank you for marrying me..." You murmur back, moving forward so your forehead touches his. "Thank you for loving me, and for making me realise my girlish daydreams could become a living reality..."

[drawsdenfiles]

I know that you said that you wanted pause to the political questio, s but it's rare for me to run into trump support who isn't a maga cult person. I do have a friend who wants to vote for trump for economical reasons and i'm curious if that's same with you and if so why do you that you believe that if he's voted back in it a pisitive rather than a negative.

Ps I do you really love your art it looks nice from my run-through of your tumblr looking forward to book #18 for dresden

Haha, thank you for your question, you're very sweet.

Your message was very nice to read and you brought up the Dresden Files, so I couldn't say no! AUGH, isn't it such a good series? Who's your favorite character?? I have such a hard time picking, they're all so good. I think I'm mostly invested in Harry and Marcone though, for sure.

I personally don't know a lot about the "maga cult" thing, but yeah, thank you! Economy would be one of the reasons why I'm voting for him. I like his immigration, foreign, and environmental policies as much as I like the things he did while he was president- the Abraham Accords, for example, meant a lot to me back then and the countries involved in it were so... happy. So happy. It was incredible to see all the posts the people were making about it. I didn't care at all about politics or Trump back then, but that definitely made an impression on me.

Hello to your friend! Haha, and I think there are a ton of extreme-culty people everywhere right now, it's not just those who'd like Trump to get elected. It's everywhere. I think we've all seen enough cult documentaries to be able to identify some of the signs...

I'm personally not trying to get anyone to vote for the guy I want to vote for, I more think we should all do what we believe is the right thing to do. If people believe voting for Biden/Harris(or whoever's the next democratic candidate) is the right thing to do, then they should do that. If people don't want to vote, then hey, I'm not going to pressure them into doing something they don't want to do. They want to vote third party? Go for it.

I came out about my support on here because yeah, the reaction to the very real assassination attempt was upsetting to me- I'd like to vote for this guy and they're crying about how the bullet missed- I would never wish anything like that ever to happen to their candidate, you know? Never.

On one hand, I would very much love for Biden to stay in the race all the way into November, but on the other hand... I don't know, I think the guy needs a break. It's ultimately his decision whether he stays or not, so I'm trying to at least respect that... but man, they are really trying to kick him out. It's wild. (Edit: Aaaaand it looks like he's literally just officially dropped out, so there's that.)

Anyway, thank you for your message! I LOVE to draw, so compliments toward my art go straight to my core. The Dresden Files is SO GOOD.

[starfall-spirit]

Precious Collateral

Read on Ao3 // Fic Masterlist // SJM Omegaverse Masterlist // Dark Feysand Masterlist

Summary: When Rhys set out to collect his dues from the head of the Archeron house, he knew the man would be begging for more time. What he didn’t expect was to be offered the youngest daughter as collateral.

After spending only a day in the temperamental woman’s company, he found himself utterly enthralled with his new guest—and with no intention of letting her father scrape together the funds that would grant her her freedom.

AN: This is going to be the darkest fic I've written so far. Definitely bringing in heavier themes than my CoN!Feysand fics have. The first chapter is short and free of any trigger warnings, but I want to give a list up front of what I have tagged so far on Ao3 for future chapters.

TW/CW: Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Bondage, Spanking, Orgasm Denial, Dark!Rhys, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones, Power Imbalance, Daddy Kink

That said, enjoy the intro chapter!

Chapter I

Rhysand

“I have tried, I swear. Please, I have nothing to give. If I had more time…”

“I’ve given you time,” Rhys drawled, leaning back in the chair he was offered. “Months beyond the timeframe we agreed on, in fact. And still have nothing to show for it, Archeron. I believe I made the consequences of that quite clear during our original meeting.”

“Y-yes. You did. I haven’t forgotten. I only hoped if I offered you a new deal for the time being you may accept.” He kept his eyes cast down slightly, looking every bit the beta begging to keep his miserable life. “Please, I can not leave my wife and daughters with nothing.”

“One less mouth to feed. I’d say you’d be doing them a favor.”

The man swallowed hard. “My daughters,” he almost whispered. “You can have your pick. Keep one of them in your home until I can gather the money.”

Rhys just managed to catch his sneer, maintaining his mask worn for business matters such as this. One line he never crossed was trading in flesh. He hadn’t touched the trafficking circles so many of the other major players tangled themselves in and no one indebted to him had dared offer up their own child yet.

He would have laughed in the man’s face and put an end to the conversation if it wasn’t for the soft gasp outside the office door. His eyes slid in the direction of the sound before he jerked his head, a silent order to Cassian. “Let me go! You can’t—” The girl’s mouth snapped shut the moment her eyes met Rhys’. “I—”

“Well, well. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that eavesdropping is rude, pet?”

Though her fear practically radiated from her, his demand only made her raise her chin. What a little brat she was. And no wonder, he mused. The youngest Archeron was an omega. A rarity, coming from a beta mother and father. Her older sisters had been just as disappointing in that regard, even if the eldest had a mouth on her.

“It seems I was right to,” the girl snapped back. “If you’re here to tear our family apart.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer audacity. All that rage in such a tiny package. It was refreshing. “My, Abraham. Just where were you hiding this little gem when I visited you before?” Leaning down, he caught a whiff of her scent, the lilac and pear downright intoxicating, setting his alpha instincts reeling. The words to seal the deal with her father were out of his mouth before what remained of his morality could cut through the haze. “I’m going to enjoy training you, darling.”

She drew a deep breath, shuttering softly. Good, that she was just as affected by him. “You can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Can’t I, pet?” He didn’t let himself touch her, instead drawing back to his full height. “Cass, make sure she has a few things for the flight back. The rest can be provided when we’ve made it home.” Glancing back over his shoulder, he addressed her father one last time. “A pleasure doing business, Archeron.”

~~~~~

Feyre

“A hunger strike isn’t going to do you any favors, sweetheart.” She scowled, pushing the plate to the top of her tray before turning her attention back to the window. “And the cold shoulder isn’t going to earn you a ticket home.”

“Tell me what, exactly, Rhysand, would earn me some peace and quiet?” Cassian coughed sharply, clearly trying to cover his amusement. The man seated beside him—still nameless to her—just shook his head. As if Feyre was some bratty child they should never have dragged into this mess. If he was so easily convinced, perhaps his partners could be too, no matter how patient Rhysand seemed.

Turning to the window again, she tucked her knees to her chest. Where was she left now? She was seventeen, not even graduated, and being flown off to God knew where until her father could scrape together whatever the nut jobs needed to pay off the astronomical loan he’d wasted in a matter of a few weekends. Feyre had seen the ledgers. Even if her mother and older sisters refused to greet reality, she knew better.

Now she was stuck. Her family wouldn’t be able to beg or bargain for the kind of money they needed. If she was ever going to be free, she’d have to plot an escape herself.

She spent the rest of the flight studying the three men as subtly as possible. How they moved, spoke, and acted towards one another. The weapons they each carried, even in the safety of their own jet. But what bothered her most, if she was being honest, was the raw confidence each of them exuded. They knew their weapons, knew each other, and laid an unshakable trust in that. She wasn’t going to be able to turn one of Rhysand’s goons to her side. Not the top of his team, at least.

So she would wait. However long it would take, she would best them.

~~~~~

Rhysand

“What game are you playing, Rhys?” 

They were an hour from landing in Manhattan when Feyre finally drifted off, giving his brothers the freedom to truly interrogate him. “We don’t let innocents get tangled in business. It’s the one thing that puts us above the others.”

“I have no intention of selling her off, Cassian. She’s exactly what her father offered her as—collateral.”

“She’s a kid, Rhys.”

“She’s a minor for a few more months, yes, but hardly a child.”

His enforcer scowled. “So, what, December rolls around and you put her to work in the club?”

“No,” he snapped, frustrated with how obvious his investment in the girl was becoming. There was no reason he should be so against the suggestion. They paid the girls dancing in their night club, Velaris, more than most in their profession could dream of. Their clientele was vetted. Feyre would have been just fine if he threw her Mor’s way to train up for the club. “I don’t know yet. She’ll stay at the townhouse under my watch until I’ve decided. No arguments.”

“Rhys.” He met his spymaster’s eyes, loathing the hint of worry there. “Eyes on the prize?”

“Always, brother.”

~~~~~

Just going to use my Dark!Rhys taglist at the moment, but if the trigger warnings are too much please reach out so I can remove you from the taglist.

Taglist: @whatishowedyouinthedark // @ninthcircleofprythian // @sajirah // @acourtofladydeath // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer // @toporecall //@popjunkie42-blog

[rhodesmusic]

jesus christ impaled on a wednesday i hate hate HATE it when christianity is brought into mathematics. people pushing their agenda by saying shit like "this beautiful mathematical thing proves the existence of GOD" or "GOD made math and we're just discovering it". that is SO fucking rancid for so many reasons and half the time the people that say those kinds of things hold math in a purely qualitative sence in their mind, thinking that because they got a mandelbrot zoom in their reccomended they eat breathe and shit math out their asshole on the spiritual level

no matter how hard our education systems bastardize the subject, compressing their concepts into a pristine meaninglessness to cull the young person's imagination across the land, nor how well their nouns verbs and adjectives describe what we see in the universe, mathematics at it's heart is a form of SELF EXPRESSION. nothing, NOTHING I SAY in this world we live in would be as FUCKING PSYCHOTIC as to suggest us to dwell over how a bunch of IMAGINARY IDEAS relate to one another along patterns and symmetries, other than OURSELVES. we started doing math because it offers a kind of fulfillment unlike any other artform. the difference between mathematics and other arts is that our culture doesn't see it as one.

mathematics is not about facts, or even worse, about "rules", but rather about the IDEAS that went into drawing such conclusions. similarly, the only thing more beautiful than math's polyhedra, infinitely intricate fractal shapes, and other pictures such as the ones abraham and jacob here put in their thumbnails, are the MADE UP IDEAS that constitute them, ideas that we have thought up for no good reason other than we find doing so lovely. wonderful. fulfilling and completing.

if some BRICK LICKER named EZEKIEL went out to an art fair and proclaimed with their righteous ass vocal cords, "all these paintings, all these works of art, all of these were drawn by GOD and HERE'S WHY", they'd rightfully be told to go off and HUFF DICK, but when it's mathematics it passes with nodding heads because our culture doesn't see math as any kind of self-expression, instead as a bunch of statements and sedentary pictures to worship, bend over, and take cock for to achieve some higher level of virtuosity.

"but how can the Mandelbrot set have infinite complexity as you zoom into it, that has to be god right there!!!" perhaps if you ever pondered the distinguishing complex numbers, how recursive processes ballet with its algebraic structure, the geometry unfolding into chaos along an infinitesimal boundary, all things that DON'T ACTUALLY FUCKING EXIST IN OUR WORLD BUT WILL STILL BE THOUGHT OF FOR OUR SAKES, LEST WE LET THE IDEA GO COLD AS WE SHIVER IN THE ABSENCE OF THE WARMTH OF ITS SIMPLE CHARM, then you wouldn't resort to implementing an omnipotent figure in order to fulfill your inclination to have the wonder be explained by anything besides the creativity of humans.

oh, but questioning the words of the bible? now that's sacrilege.

HOLY SHIT.

[stunt-lads]

Werewolf negan knotting Rick?

He isn't sure how he wound up in the situation, nor is he sure why he's surprised. The dead are walking the earth, the likelihood of there being other monsters just seems to make sense in hindsight.

But still, Rick is pinned under Negan's form, bent over the table in the RV, and oh so grateful his family is far away from wherever Negan drove him to. He tries to parse what the hell happened to leave him here, Negan panting softly against the back of his neck, claws long and sharp against his thighs.

He's rutting against his ass and making Rick's head swim. Truthfully, he hasn't been with a man in a long time, not since Shane, but the idea is definitely appealing. Or it would be if it wasn't the monster who killed Abraham and Glenn.

And he is a monster. Not just metaphorically, the snapping of his bones told Rick that yeah, this man—is he even a man at this point?—is also a beast.

Still...the friction is making him warm, the possessive way Negan's body hunches over him from behind...if it wasn't such a turn on he'd probably be more disgusted.

He probably should be anyway.

But it's hard to think when the feel of sharp teeth on the back of his neck draws him sharply from his thoughts.

"Y'fucked a man before?" Negan's voice is rougher, deeper, and he wonders if the transformation is to blame or if he's just too caught up in his own pleasure to talk properly.

"Yeah." May as well be honest, what's the harm really.

"Damn, I was hoping I'd get to pop that gay cherry of yours." Negan snorts before tugging harshly on Rick's pants.

Rick reaches down to help, not necessarily eager, just not inclined to go back to his family pantsless. Too many questions. Too much to explain.

"Good boy." Negan breathes, and Rick tries desperately not to show how the words affect him.

It's rough, and Negan doesn't let him pull his pants down all the way, just enough.

"Normally, I'd have you get my fingers nice and wet, but, well." He holds up a clawed hand to Rick's face, and he feels his stomach swoop uncomfortably in arousal. His hands are monstrous. All sharp nails and long fur. Rick's blood boils in his veins.

"So, just this one time, I'll do it for you." His hand is pulled back and the next thing Rick feels is thick and viscous saliva sliding down his—

"Fuck!" He yelps, there is no warning or preparation before Negan is sliding his finger into Rick's body, hardly pausing long enough to even make sure it's not a dry insertion. His finger is thick, and Rick can feel the unpleasant prick of his sharp nail internally.

"That's a good puppy, bark for me." Negan mocks, and Rick feels sick to his stomach at the way the words make him feel hot all over.

"Now, as much as I'd love to fuck this tight ass, it might break you and I'd hate to fuck up what's been an otherwise fantastic and productive goddamn interaction."

Rick can't bring himself to say anything, humiliation coursing through him just as strong as arousal.

"So here's what I'll tell you."

Rick feels his legs shake slightly as Negan finds his prostate almost too easily and begins his assault on it.

"This little spot right here? That's gonna be your new best friend when I finally get to fuck you because you won't be touching your dick at all. Bitches don't have dicks, and you, Ricky? You're my bitch now."

Rick lets his head slump onto the table, closing his eyes tightly as he tries desperately not to thrust back against Negan's finger. His cock drools precome underneath him, he can feel the way it oozes out and he feels sick to his stomach at his body and minds reaction to this onslaught.

"And see, here's the kicker, this little spot is gonna be fucking bruised by the time I'm done with you." He pauses for a moment and then when he speaks again Rick can feel his breath hot on his face, his voice low, right next to his ear, "Ask me why, Rick."

He can't. His throat is dry, and the words are caught in his lungs. Negan grips his hair harshly and yanks his head back, forcing him to bend uncomfortably to the man's whims.

"Ask me, why, Rick." Negan repeats more firmly, voice darker and deeper now, more dangerous.

"W-why, Negan?" He finally chokes out, swallow past the lump in his throat as he does.

"Good boy." Negan praises quietly, and Rick shivers as his touch gets gentle in his hair, Rick hates it. His hand withdraws, and Rick lets himself press his face to the table again. The cool press of it is hardly doing anything to help him relax.

"The reason your g-spot will be bruised, Ricky, is because I have a fucking knot. As a werewolf, I get some perks, and that is one of them. So when we're all tied the fuck up and you're pinned under me, unable to move or get away, I'll still be fucking into you, forcing you to take my come like a good little bitch. And the whole time my knot is going to be rubbing. Right. There." Each word is punctuated by the forceful drag of Negan's finger and Rick's knees buckle.

"Oh, and don't think you can hide how much you like this. You can lie to your people. You can lie to mine, but you can't lie to me."

Rick's mind is hazy, and he whimpers softly as Negan removes his finger from his body, leaning over to breathe into Rick's ear again.

"I can fucking smell how much you like this shit."

Rick's embarrassment flares then and Negan laughs as he slaps his ass.

"Pull your fucking pants up. We got shit to do."

Rick inhales shakily and obeys. What else can he do?

[bones4thecats]

who is your favourite character in record of ragnarok and twisted wonderland? And what do you think would be their type? Any headcanons you have that you usually don't see others write but you wish there was more?

Hello there, Anon! I love the questions you had asked me, and it took me a while to figure them all out, but I wrote them down as I thought, so they may be a but lengthy. Anyways, I hope I answered your questions good!

Okay, so I have quite a few favorites within both fandoms, so I'll seperate them based on species/dorm!

Twisted Wonderland

Heartslabyul: Riddle Rosehearts ~ His character is super adorable with how his face gets red when he gets mad, and I find his constant need to follow the rules funny. It's not like the Queen of Hearts is gonna kill you, she's basically dead anyways! Savanaclaw: Jack Howl ~ He's just adorable, and he reminds me of my male best friend because he's quite defensive about his reputation, but with people he cares about, he's awesome! Octavinelle: Azul Ashengrotto ~ Azul is one of my favorite characters in general because of how smart, yet sensitive he can be. Like when he had overblotted because of MC and the others tearing up his contracts he worked hard on, it's understandable and relatable. Also, his fear of his weight makes me pity him as a chubby person myself, but I love the way he gains confidence! Scarabia: Jamil Viper ~ Jafar is one of my favorite characters in the whole Disney canon, so having Jamil as one of my favorites shouldn't be surprising. I love his design and I absolutely love his journey, he's good at cooking and he's amazingly loyal to his family and friends, he's husband material. Pomefiore: Rook Hunt ~ I love Vil, but Rook's character overall is so much fun to read and write for. I love his design to freaking much, like his hat, so cute, the fact that he came from Savanaclaw to Pomefiore, very unique and cool, I also adore his frenchness, it shows relation to the film's original location and written place. Ignihyde: Ortho & Idia ~ I couldn't choose between the two of them, their dynamic together is so fucking cute, like I can't. I also love introverts, I find them adorable, and having a very extroverted sibling just makes it extra cute!! Diasomnia: ALL FOUR ~ Like with the previous duo, I cannot choose between all three. I love Malleus, he's a very fun character, and with how oblivious and willing to learn he is, he's awesome. Lilia is just great, he's an amazing father to both Silver and Malleus, and the way he looks after Sebek like his own, cute!! Silver and Sebek are similar, adorable children that we must protect. Staff: Divus Crewel ~ All I have to say is: Monochrome King RSA: Che'nya ~ Personally, I love the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland (1951), he's just an amazing example of an anti-hero, and the way he teases Riddle and Trey just for laughs is super cute and shows how much he truly cares for the two as his friends.

Record of Ragnarok

Abrahamic Pantheon: Beelzebub ~ I prefer him over a lot of different Gods, so much so he's in my top 10 favorite characters throughout the whole fandom. But, I love how careful he is, he seems to care about others enough to where he tries protecting them from distancing himself, but that's also a flaw, otherwise, he's just a decent person in general, despite wanting Humanity's end. Buddhism Pantheon: Buddha ~ He's just so much fun. He loves to mess around and tease others, which is something I love to do, which kinda draws people towards me (I'm an unfortunate people-magnet), and I also love how he's so laid-back, you gotta love those chill peeps. Hindu Pantheon: Shiva ~ I love his love of the art-form dance. Dance is something that has a bunch of different forms, and the way that he just takes that passion and made it his own unique thing was inspiring! Greek Pantheon: Heracles / Apollo / Hades ~ I love all three of these guys, so it was hard to decide between them. Hades is a family man and cares for his brothers no matter what, Apollo is a decent person and doesn't judge for looks, but by personality, and Heracles is just an amazing example of the word 'hero'. Norse Pantheon: Thor ~ I just love his character in general, he seems to value his family and title, he even showed sympathy to killing Lü Bu, and I found that to be an amazing addition to showing the humanity in the Gods. I also adore his design, red is one of my favorite colors behind blue and black, so having long red hair? Yes. Human Fighters: ALL ~ No competition, they all rule. Lü Bu shows care for his army, Adam loves his 'children' despite their wrongdoings, Sasaki has a strong will of never giving up despite challenges, Jack will do seemingly anything to protect those he cares for, even if they don't care for him back, Raiden's care for Thrud was so heartwarming, he warned her to stop the Völundr to save her life, and (technically) Zerofuku, he's just a baby that was let down the wrong path, he needs guidance, and I believe that if he had the right teacher, his life would've been way better. Valkyries: Göll ~ She's just so god-foresakenly cute!! I feel like my heart's gonna explode everytime she looks concerned for both Humanity and the Gods fighting, she's so much more human with her emotions than other characters, it's amazing.

Their types all vary, but I'll probably make a list on each dorm/pantheon and their types later on because this is starting to get very lengthy and my hands are cramping badly, so to keep my hands in tact and this post short-er, I'll answer your final question.

I believe there should be more Male! Readers, as there are mostly either Female or Gender Neutral. Like males can read the GN, but like, pretty much all the Male! Readers I find are NSFW and not SFW. I believe there should be more of those, but like I said, GN does work relatively well.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

What do you think all the ewanverse characters have as their hobbies? In trigger point billy washington has a guitar lying around in his living room, but i really don't think he seems like a guitar guy

Nah, Billy definitely got that guitar in an attempt to learn to play Wonderwall and then gave up when it was too hard.

Abraham - training horses to race, drinking, gambling, arm wrestling.

Aemond - reading, dragonriding, training with his sword.

Billy Taylor - playing football, playing cards, listening to music

Billy Washington - video games, watching films, working on his car

Ettore - sexually assaulting others, drawing, working out.

Genyen - grifting, jerking off, watching TV.

Michael Gavey - masturbating to Carol Vorderman on Countdown and playing World of Warcraft.

Osferth - reading, cooking, sharing ale with friends.

Tom Bennett - smoking, going to the pub, playing pool.

[atundratoadstool]

How do you think the story would play out if Mr. Hawkins never got that attack of gout and was the one who went to Castle Dracula?

[CW: General spoilers]

There's so little in the text as it stands about Peter Hawkins that it's hard to predict what would have happened. Stoker clearly seems to have contemplated making Hawkins (or some version of the character) have a bigger role in the text, however. I've seen other posts circulating that draw attention to the fact that the Hawkins of the notes originally agreed to sent the Count a clerk who did not speak German, which one might read as giving the character some sense of complicity in what eventually befalls Jonathan, and I recall that I saw one headcanon pre-DD that Hawkins' decision to make Jonathan his heir is informed by some feeling of guilt--justified or unjustified. If you take the notes as a means to read Hawkins a character perhaps a little more willing to ignore some potential red flags with a client somebody else is dealing with (and as somebody who's already been corresponding with the Count and might have a better feel for him), you might be able to envision a different trajectory were the characters swapped. I can see Hawkins, given this characterization, being a little less naive at the onset and a little less willing to defy the Count once things get hairy--somebody a little more likely to adhere to professional distance and make more excuses for the unfolding horrors of the castle as misunderstandings or bad dreams.

This is all an extraction, however, from a page or two of Stoker's abominable scribbling, and another direction in which I think you might be able to take those scribbles is an observation that Hawkins' earlier name was Abraham Aaronson. Virtually every character Stoker writes has some element of himself (Mina's brain/heart division, Seward's workaholic nature, Jonathan's legal training), and I feel that it probably signifies something that Hawkins originally had Stoker's first name... particularly given that the text as completed contains a character named Abraham who also has Stoker's physical attributes down to the phrenological forehead bumps (Van Helsing). If we read Hawkins as yet another Stoker self insert, I think you can end up with a really fascinating story in which the guy being menaced and gaslit by Count "looks very similar to Henry Irving" Dracula is much closer to Stoker's age and position in the world. I can't say what direction, precisely, that would go, but you could suddenly have a text that is a lot more overtly and painfully biographical.

Lastly, if one wants the author firmly dead and to undertake readings that remain only within the confines of the text, I think that Peter Hawkins is a figure--like many of Dracula's parental figures--whose primary skill is dropping dead very suddenly. I think a very boring but very realistic Watsonian option is that he arrives at Castle Dracula and suddenly drops dead, leaving the Count with less cooking to do as he completes his real estate transaction.

[slytherincursebreaker]

Oh my god this was so hard, out of every character who I drew the easiest one is Osfreth. I’m surprised you haven’t asked me draw Ettore I’m not ready yet to draw him shirtless (I heard the movie was fudged up but I only see Ewan Mitchell shirtless gifs and I was like oh that’s hot and I saw Robert Pattinson)

Also I got a bad colds doing this but it was worth it. my blood, sweat and tears also hand cramps and my sanity along with my willpower and a bit of my self respect.

crop and resizing it was tricky

Aemond - @megatardisbaby @aemondtargaryensrider , @lonnson

Billy Taylor - @its-actually-minicika @aemondtargaryensrider (idk which Billy there are two)

Tom Bennett - @assortedseaglass , @aemondtargaryensrider

Abraham - @aemondtargaryensrider

Billy Washington - @assortedseaglass , @aemondtargaryensrider (again idk which Billy you’re referring to )

Osferth - @aemondtargaryensrider , @lonnson

anyway I’m sorry...

I have no regrets on drawing Ewan Mitchell I do it again.

[captain-tch]

Friday the 13th (Daryl Dixon x GN!Reader)

After surviving the events of Terminus, the group stumble upon an abandoned camp site when searching for shelter. Their dream turns into a nightmare when they realise the reason why Camp Crystal Lake was truly abandoned. TW for the series: excessive gore, excessive violence, character deaths

previous part

part 2: calm before the storm

That night, you were in pure bliss. You relaxed into the mattress you'd dragged in earlier, your back relishing the feeling of softness over the usual cold, hard ground it had long become accustomed to. Daryl stood perched by the window over looking the camp, trained observant eyes never straying from the scenery. Whilst you wanted to drag him onto the mattress with you, you knew that you needed to stay vigilant. It was evident you all understood it's necessity, especially when Rick volunteered to take over from Daryl.

After all, you had all learned you never could be too careful.

You watched from your position on the floor, casting an eye over the group. Rosita was laughing at something Maggie had said, Eugene was conversing with Abraham albeit slightly stonily - the conversation looked as easy as drawing blood from a stone. Rick had Judith in his grasp, cradling her sleeping form. Carl slept nearby, the cowboy hat still glued to his head. Carol lingered at the edges, her back rod straight, her face slightly vacant. You imagined it must have been difficult for her to integrate herself back into a group setting after having been banished for what she did at the prison. Tara had already curled up, her soft snores acting as a consistent background noise.

Light footsteps echoed throughout the mess hall, signifying Glenn's presence. Ever the explorer, he was searching every nook and cranny for a unique find. You'd once called him a magpie, and he didn't deny it.

"Guys!" Glenn's excited yell cut through the chatter, waking Tara and Carl from their slumber with a start. "Check this out!"

All eyes were fixed on Glenn as he walked into the main room, his steps heavier than before, a record player in his hands. You gasped. Music. A warmth blossomed in your chest. Maybe things were starting to look up.

Everyone watched with baited breath as Glenn placed the record player on one of the benches at the edge of the room. Soothing, soulful music filled the space, Ella Fitzgerald's voice singing Dream A Little Dream Of Me.

Glenn walked up to Maggie, offering her his hand. A smile started to creep up her face as she took it, pulling Glenn close and swaying to the music. You averted your gaze, the moment feeling too intimate for your viewing.

Rick joined them, Judith close on his hip, swaying slowly to the music. Abraham whisked Rosita to her feet, her laughing and begging him not to step on her feet. Sensing his gaze on you, you turned towards Daryl, who had looked away from the window for just a moment. He had been watching you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Getting up to your feet, you joined him by the window, unable to tear your gaze from him. With the music playing quietly in the background, his attention on you, you felt pure, unfiltered bliss. His fingers twitched towards you. You took his invitation, linking your fingers with his own, enjoying the scratch of his callouses in your palm.

It felt like, for a brief lapse of time, everything was perfect.

The dancing faded away, until eventually people began to settle in for bed. Daryl was relieved of his post, settling into the mattress besides you.

When night was its darkest, you stirred. Your eyes struggled to adjust in the dark, making out a vague shadow a few feet from you. It was hanging over Carl's mattress. You assumed it was Rick wanting to make sure Carl was alright.

Except he merely stood over the boy, staring down. There was something... predatory in the way he was standing over the boy. It almost looked as if instead of protecting the boy, he was looming over him, waiting to strike.

"Rick, what are you doing?" You whispered.

Rick bent in half, brushing Carl's head. He stood upright, half turning towards you.

"Shush." He drew a finger to his lips, adding extra emphasis on the need to be quiet. Your eyes darted to the makeshift cradle, where Judith was sleeping soundly. You nodded your head silently in understanding - no one wants a screaming baby in the middle of the night.

You turned over, nestling your face into Daryl's back, hoping the lull of sleep would take you soon, completely oblivious to the fact that Rick had fallen asleep at his post thirty minutes ago.

~

Sunshine streamed through the windows of the mess hall. You groaned, your arm lifting to shield your eyes from the shine.

"C'mon sleeping beauty." Daryl's voice cut through your tired daze. He picked up your arm, lightly guiding it back to your chest. The light was blinding, your eyes taking a minute to adjust. "I've got somethin' to show ya."

You grumbled, nestling further into the mattress and pulling the sheets over your head. "Can it wait?"

"You either get up or I drag ya ass out of bed, your choice."

Begrudgingly, you lowered the sheet, glaring at him. "You wouldn't dare."

He merely smirked. In a flash he grabbed the blanket, whipping it away from your body. You pawed at the disappearing material, a stream of cold air hitting your body. A shock shivered through your whole body. The glare you sent Daryl's way became more piercing by the second. The playful tilt was still on his lips as he offered his hand out.

"Truce?"

You nodded, taking his hand and standing up. You repressed a shiver, goosebumps rising on your arms. A chill had started to settle in the air, the sign of the incoming autumn. Wordlessly, Daryl fished his poncho from the floor, passing it to you. Gratefully you took the poncho, slipping it over your head, enjoying the mixed earthy smell that was Daryl that wafted around you.

"So what was so urgent?"

"Figured we had time for another lesson." Daryl started walking out of the mess hall, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and leaving you to rush to catch up. It was then that you noticed that none of the group were currently in the room. As if hearing your thoughts, Daryl told you they were checking if any walkers got in overnight, and beginning to compiling supplies for when you were all back on the road. You tried not to think about the endless days, constantly worrying about what was around the corner.

When the door was opened, a rush of chilly air enveloped you. It carried what appeared to be a yellow streamer, black words you couldn't decipher imprinted onto the material. You gripped the edges of the poncho, following Daryl dutifully until he stopped short. You had come across an area that must have previously been used for archery practice, stationary targets positioned at different distances along the grass.

Daryl pulled off the crossbow and handed it to you. You took it, muscles aching in your arm and back at the weight. He pointed at the closest target, reminding you of how to hold yourself, giving prompts on accuracy. You nodded, letting the information wash over you.

Taking a deep breath, you aimed at the target.

On your released breath, you squeezed the trigger - jerking at the sudden scream echoing through camp. The arrow flew way beyond the target, lodging itself in the grass.

Without another thought you thrust the crossbow at the archer, unsheathing the knife at your belt. Your heart was in your throat as you pursued the source of the noise, any hint of drowsiness erased from your body.

Tara was encased in Glenn's embrace, her head buried in the crook of his shoulder. Glenn's eyes connected with yours over Tara's shoulder. He gestured towards the community shower and toilets, where the rest of the group was gathered. Apart from Sasha and Rosita.

You didn't want to go inside. You could see the trail of red from where you were stood. Your mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish, scrambling to understand what had happened. She would have said if she was bitten, and you saw her last night. How can things have gone wrong so quickly?

You cast an eye over the group again, taking in the numbers. Were both Sasha and Rosita dead? Maggie numbly answered your unspoken question, confirming Sasha had perished.

Rick's face was grim. He rubbed a hand across his face, turning to the ground. "She wasn't bit."

Your heart faltered in your chest. She died. You prayed it was natural causes; the amount of blood you saw did nothing to convince you of that poor lie.

"She was... Nailed to the wall." You hoped she hadn't been alive when that happened. "Her neck had been slashed."

A heavy grief stifled the group. Sasha had been strong, and fierce, loyal and kind. She didn't deserve to die so gruesomely. You sent another prayer up to a god you never believed in, praying that she didn't suffer for long. One peaceful thought was at least she was with Bob now.

"She had Carl's hat glued on her head and Abraham's dog tags around her neck."

You froze. You sent a panicked look to Daryl, whose face had become an inpenetreble wall of stone.

"Whoever this is, has been close enough to steal from us. They want us scared. They want us to know they have been within killing reach and didn't strike." You willed your hands to stop shaking as Rick continued to speak, his voice not wavering once. "We're not waiting for this fucker to hunt us down. We're leaving right now."

It was a frenzy. People began rushing to the mess hall to gather what few supplies they could. On the porch, Rosita stood with her hands on her hips, a frown etched into her face. "What's going on?"

"There's no time to explain - just grab as much food as you can. We're getting out of here." Rick's stern voice didn't leave any room for questions. Rosita spun on her heel, rushing towards the door of the mess hall.

It opened. Nothing was amiss. Rick's knife was in his grip, assessing the area. Maggie, Tara, Carl and Carol filed in behind, equally as alert.

Rick turned to the remaining five of you, throwing two empty back packs. "Go to the nurses station. We'll meet you where we last camped. Be on your guard."

Nodding, you, Daryl, Eugene, Abraham and Glenn sprinted for the nurses station. You all but fell through the doorway, throwing open drawers and cabinets with little care. You grabbed anything you could, throwing it into the bag without processing it fully.

Sasha was dead.

Someone was targeting you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your blurry vision growing as you threw some bandages into your pockets. Daryl stayed by your side, snatching up some painkillers, squeezing them into the pack. He zipped it up, throwing it onto his back.

Someone had slashed Sasha's throat.

Someone had pinned her body to the wall.

Someone had been in the space you had secured and stole items from you.

"Ready?" Daryl gruffly asked. No one had a chance to answer. The atmosphere shifted. Glenn's face crumpled.

"No, no, no." Glenn repeated, dropping the package in his hands and running so fast out of the door he could have been flying. You spun to shout his name, to scream the warning about being alone, when your eyes caught sight of Glenn's despair.

The mess hall was on fire.

next part

the walking dead masterlist

[slitheringghost]

Love the metas and rec lists! 😊

I’m always curious about where authors draw their inspiration, and about the unique caches of literary experience that inform their work. Are there any particular texts (novels, poetry, stories, plays, etc.) which inspire you, or which have shaped your tastes, or which you find yourself drawing-on, consciously or not, as a writer? Or any texts that have caused you to interpret the HP texts (themes, characters, etc.) in new ways?

Thank you so much for the ask! I’m glad you’re enjoying my metas and fic rec lists.

So my all time favorite books are His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman, Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson, The Haunting of Hill House and We Have Always Lived In The Castle by Shirley Jackson, Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, and The Passion by Jeanette Winterson.

I feel like I've drawn on The Passion and HDM for my writing a bit. I especially like how the former portrays war, which has influenced my First War fic to an extent.

As for analyzing the text, I try to weave out as many of the references JKR made as possible (i.e. like to the Aegis, expanded on in this meta). This can be hard because I haven’t read a lot of basic Greek mythological texts that many people have, and I’m also not familiar with Christian tradition (and Abrahamic religions in general) and so catching the biblical references can be difficult.

This article and this one were incredibly crucial to my understanding of the series, that I’ve elaborated on in my meta And Cain Repented Not Of What He Had Done: Harry Potter As Retelling Of Cain And Abel. I would say that how these characters all play Cain - including Lily and Harry - is in fact much more important to understanding the text than their roles as Christ/God figures, Satan, etc. After reading it I felt like I got what HP as a series was Truly About more than anything else. It’s genuinely one of the most brilliant retellings of Cain and Abel, and I wish more people knew about that aspect of it!

Also thanks again for this ask, this made me pick up some of my fav books again and got briefly inspired while doing so :)