#granted not all of that is in the city proper

[fellsilver]

Do you ever look at a map or picture of Waterdeep and realize how big it is

[posletsvet]

So—

Being eighteen was great, can't wait to see what being nineteen will show!!

[rocketonthemoon]

i really want to know why they made her from buffalo from all places lmao

Serious Answer is I bet the writer was from Upstate and just was like "eh ambiguous enough"

My preferred answer is they just really wanted to hear everyone's accents stumble through BUFFALO as many times as possible

[hazard-symbols-that-fuck-hard]

Okay time for the PBS Kids essay

Read it under the cut!

:readmore:

In 1968, before there was PBS Kids proper, there was Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. While it came several decades before the children’s block, it laid the foundation for the themes and values present in every facet of the network’s history.

Mr. Roger famously hated children’s programming at the time. To him, it all was droll and useless. But he didn’t dissuade the medium entirely— he saw potential. Potential that led to a few smaller television jobs, and eventually the creation of Mr. Roger’s neighborhood.

Rogers didn’t invent educational TV for children, but he did perfect it. He poured real heart and soul into probably the most sincere, heartfelt program in history.

Honestly, he could have his own essay. The more things you learn about the real man of Mr. Rogers, the more you’ll like him.

Anyway, the biggest thing that makes PBS different is the fact that it earns money through grants, fundraisers, and private donors— not through sponsorships and merchandise sales. This way, PBS Kids can push programming that it feels is important, rather than programming that merely sells well.

This also means PBS is less afraid of pushing social boundaries. Money doesn’t go away when their shows become subjects of debate— and Mr. Rogers took full advantage of this.

For context, this was 1969. The Jim Crow era had just barely, barely ended. Pool segregation was still very much legal.

Mr. Rogers sharing a pool and a towel with the Black Mr. Clemmons was a pretty big deal at the time— especially on a show made for children.

Rogers was far from the untouchable sacred cow of today. When he was alive, he had a large number of detractors. Let’s just say that scene didn’t fly nicely by everyone.

Just one year after the debut of Mr. Roger’s came Sesame Street.

While Mr. Roger’s was made for all children, Sesame Street had the explicit goal of supplementing the education of underserved communities— especially inner-city Black (and later Latino) children.

While it was made to be accessible to children of all races and income levels, they definitely went the extra mile to make it something special for inner-city Black and Brown kids. (Why do you think it it’s “Sesame Street” and not “Sesame Cul-de-Sac”?)

At the time, a wholesome, sweet show set in a brownstone street was practically unheard of.

Jon Stone, the casting director, deliberately sought to make the cast as rich with color as he possibly could, bringing on a huge amount of Black talent such as Loretta Long, Matt Robinson, and Kevin Clash, as well as featuring Black celebrities as guest stars. Later, the show would expand its horizons, bringing on actors from Latino, Asian, Native American, and many more backgrounds.

White actors were and still are a minority on show.

In addition to letters and numbers, the purpose of Sesame Street is clear: make kids of color know that they’re smart, beautiful, and loved.

It doesn’t get more explicit than this.

I want to point out this comment because it’s funny

You’re telling me this bitch isn’t Hispanic???

Anyway, these two were followed up by Reading Rainbow in 1983. And guess what?

That’s right. Non-white focus.

These three shows, (along with other, lesser-known programs like Lamb-Chops Play Along, Newton’s Apple, and Shining Times Station (who featured Ringo Starr himself?? seriously how did that happen and why does no one talk about it) and some other nostalgic favorites like Bill Nye the Science guy, The Magic Schoolbus, Arthur, and Thomas the Tank Engine) aired on the new PTV block, which evolved into PBS Kids in 1999, bringing along Between the Lions, Dragon Tales, and many more.

Arthur is another stand-out that I’d like to talk about— it doesn’t have the same racial focus of Sesame Street, but it does focus on different income levels. The characters have various housing situations, from apartments to mansions to no home at all.

It also takes cues from Sesame Street and Mr. Roger’s in regards to talking about tough topics, though as Arthur has a slightly older target audience, it discusses things through stories rather than talking directly to the audience.

Cancer, religion, workplace discrimination, along with current (at the time) events such as 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina are all discussed on the show.

Another big focus on Arthur is disability. For once, they don’t stick a character in a wheelchair and then pretend he’s not in a wheelchair. A striking number of major characters either develop or get diagnosed with physical disabilities and/or neurodivergences, such as asthma, severe food allergies, and dyslexia, and they deal with them in very realistic ways.

A handful of minor characters have more obvious disabilities, and THANK GOD they go beyond the trite messaging of “disabled people can do everything abled people can do! everyone clap now!”

One episode in particular has the awesome message of “holy shit stop trying to help me all the time— it’s patronizing as fuck. I can get around just fine without you stepping on eggshells and trying to be the hero all the fucking time”

There are sooo many other shows I could talk about, but I can’t write about them all. I’m definitely gonna point out some more standout ones, though.

Sagwa, the Chinese Siamese Cat

Created by Chinese-American woman Amy Tang

Dragonfly TV

Features a multitude of female and non-white scientists to foster an interest in science with kids in those groups

Maya & Miguel

One of the network’s first Hispanic-led shows

SciGirls

I shouldn’t have to explain what the goal of this one was.

Molly of Denali

When was the last time you saw a show that treated Native Americans as people? Much less a children’s show? 90% of the cast is Athabascan, and the show revolves around Athabascan culture, not shying away from topics like boarding schools and modern-day racism. Most of the writers are also Athabascan, and the show even has an official Gwich’in dub!

It’s this commitment to real, authentic social justice that makes PBS Kids so much different from its competitors. Could you imagine the Paw Patrol dog looking at the camera and earnestly discussing what happened to George Floyd? I don’t think so— but Arthur talked specifically about it, Sesame Street did an hour long special about race in general, and the network itself made a 30 minute special.

Disney Jr. could never. (Other than trying to teach colorblindness, of course.)

I’m gonna have to cut this into two parts, since I just hit the image limit

[natalievoncatte]

On Krypton, vows had meaning. Proclamations were not made lightly, and promises were not given casually. Kara’s peers wouldn’t throw one out as a reassurance, or to settle an argument. They were a logical people. They didn’t deceive, didn’t speak words they didn’t know to be true, and didn’t give opinions that were not informed. Society was ordered and regimented, and everyone put the greater good before themselves. So if you made a promise, no matter how great or how small, you would do it.

Kara learned, later in life, that a lot of her birth culture was, to use an English word that had no equivalent in her language, bullshit. Kryptonians would, she thought, claim that they had no use for such a vulgar term for cavalier prevarication because they did not practice it. That would had been a lie.

Her parents bullshitted her. They bullshitted her about the society she was growing up in. Her world wasn’t a real of perfect logic and order, it was a hidebound, decaying ex-empire that put tradition so irrationally high on a pedestal that they let their world be destroyed and all but a handful of their people wiped out because tradition said that her uncle was wrong about the planetary core going unstable.

Nevertheless, when Kara made a promise, she meant it. When she said she’d vowed to protect her adoptive home with her life, she meant it. Those words all but signed her life away in service to the cause. She was this way in everything, from saving the world down to brining Cat Grant a precisely prepared cup of coffee. Her promises meant something.

That was why she filled herself with dread the instant a promise, given unthinkingly in the heat of the moment, tumbled out of her mouth.

I will always be your friend, and I will always protect you.

She’d dishonored herself with the promise, one broken as it was made. She held Lena tight, speaking with conviction, and promised to be a friend even as she lied, swore to protect even as she deceived. It was a promise that couldn’t be kept no matter what she did.

Kara had become human in so many ways, and it gnawed at her. Another English word that had no exact Kryptonian equivalent was freedom. A proper Kryptonian would be horrified at ideas that boiled down to “I can do what I want”; I can choose my career, my partner, my life. I can put fulfillment ahead of the role chosen for me by those who know better. Yet Kara had embraced it full throated, making choices whenever she could.

The one thing she would never give up was the value of an oath.

She was over the Pacific, thinking. She would come out here from time to time to think and clear her head when the city soundscape became overwhelming, and just let herself drift in the air. There were no texts to agonize over, no emails from Snapper, nothing but herself and the lapping of waves and the distant rumble of storms over the open ocean.

She’d been coming out here more and more of late, not to think but to avoid thinking.

Because Lena knew, and Kara knew something was wrong. She could be dense about human behavior sometimes, but she was no fool… and she had super senses. She could read Lena’s pulse and see infrared flush of her skin and spot micro-movements of her eyes. Kara wanted desperately to believe that nothing was wrong but her instincts said otherwise.

When Kara told her, Lena had gone stock still and stared at her with what Kara thought was hatred, bringing tears. She’d tried to tell her how sorry she was, but Lena had just walked right past her and only later returned to her usual self.

Almost.

Kara had thrown herself into it, going on a campaign of what Alex had called ‘peacocking’ for some reason, all but burying Lena with super-stunts like fetching fresh pastries from French patissiers. Lena had smiled and thanked her but there was something flat and distant in it, and Kara ignored it and insisted that all was well.

Out here, with just the storms and her secrets, she knew it wasn’t.

Kara fingered the crest on her chest, worrying her thumb over the crimson fabric of the El rune. This meant something. It meant both ‘hope’ and ‘stronger together’; the two ideas were inextricably linked but her cousin only understood one of the meanings, because Kryptonian pictographic language was complex, and he was not Kryptonian in any way that mattered.

That was another great failing, a promise that Kara made but didn’t keep. By her people’s standards, there was no shame in that; one did not bear the responsibility of a promise made under duress, or a promise that others demanded knowing that it couldn’t be kept.

The only one she’d kept Kryptonian was herself, deep in a secret corner of her soul that meant it if she said she’d be at your birthday party or bring you a donut. The part that treated promises like promises.

There was only one way to cleanse herself, and remove her shame. She knew what it was, but she was afraid. Kara had battled monsters and gods, faced death more than once, lost more than any person should have to lose in a dozen lifetimes, but there was one thing she feared above all others.

She feared that first honest look on Lena’s shocked face more than she feared an eternity without stars. She could live in the void between realities; a void without Lena would kill her more surely than any green poison.

Now. She had to do it now, before she lost her nerve. She flew back to the city, flew hard, slowing only to land on Lena’s balcony, softly. As she raised her hand to knock on the glass of the door, she hesitated, nearly turned back.

Lena opened it, and Kara let out a slow breath. Lena was wearing only a loose, flowing floral robe, with clearly nothing beneath it. Terror made her listen- if Lena had a guest in that state, Kara might just fling herself into the sun and be done with it.

She was alone. Lena shifted on her feet.

“Why are you all wet?”

Kara’s hair was damp with sea spray and she’d flown through a few clouds on her way back.

“I like to fly over the ocean and think.”

“Well, come in here already. Let me get you a towel. Do you want something to change into?”

Kara swallowed hard. No. She wanted the honor of her family on her chest right now. She needed it to make her brave, like her father said it would when he sent her into the void. She did take the towel.

Lena had been enjoying her tea and sad breakfast -toast with jam- before Kara arrived. She left it on the counter and sat on her couch, leaving Kara to pace.

“I can tell you’re upset,” said Lena. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Everything,” said Kara. “I have a lot to say and I don’t know how to say it. I haven’t told you the full truth and I have to. I need to. It’s eating me alive inside.”

Lena swallowed hard, her heart racing.

“Please don’t tell me you’re Batman, too.”

“Lena, this is serious.”

Kara swept across the room and knelt in front of her, and Lena’s eyes shot open wide in surprise. Kara looked at the carpet in front of her, unable to look Lena in the eye.

“A long time ago, I promised you I’d always take care of you, and I didn’t. I was lying to you when I said it and I lied to you for years after.”

“Kara…”

“Please,” desperation choked her voice, “let me finish. I owe you the full truth. I promised, and promises are sacred to Kryptonians. My soul will be stained forever unless I fulfill the oath I made.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Yes it was,” said Kara. “It was to me. It was everything to me. Please.”

Lena cleared her throat. “Okay.”

“I told you I lied to you to protect you. That was another lie. That’s not why I did it. I lied because I was weak and I put my own feelings ahead of doing what was right. I was scared. I was scared that if you knew it would change how you saw me and it would change our relationship. You were the only person I could almost be myself with and I didn’t want that to change. You were a safe person I could go to without having to be Supergirl.”

Lena was studying her, a soft hint of skepticism in her expression.

Kara stood up and paced.

“I don’t know how to do this, Lena. I may act human and look human but I’m not. I grew up on another planet with another culture and so many things about this world are just totally different from how I was raised.”

Kara took a deep breath.

“On Krypton we didn’t have queerness. People didn’t value freedom of choice. You did what society told you to do. You joined the guild you were pledge to at birth and married the person you were told to marry and had the offspring you were told to have and raised them to do the same thing. The same fucking thing.”

Lena sat up at Kara’s sudden, vehement profanity.

“I didn’t know the word freedom until I arrived here. I had no concept of it. I had no idea how fragile and precious it is. Sure, I talked about it and wrote essays about it in school, but I didn’t get it. Not until I met you.”

Kara looked at Lena.

“You are my freedom. You’re the first thing I’ve ever chosen, really chosen, in my life, besides being Supergirl. It was you that made me look Cat Grant and Alex both in the eyes and say ‘no, this is what I want, this is how it’s going to be for me and it’s my choice, not yours.’ Back home I never, ever would have even thought what I’m about to say now.”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“I was afraid to tell you because I was afraid it would change our relationship. I was afraid you’d hate me because I kept the secret too long, but I was also afraid of what has to come after confessing my identity to you, Lena. The next part is even harder.”

“Kara,” Lena began.

“I have feelings for you.”

Lena went still, her eyes wide. “What did you say?”

“I want to be myself with you. My whole self, my real self. Not the person I think I have to be to please someone else. I want to tell you everything you want to know about my home and my people and my life and I want to know everything about you. I want to hear you laugh for me and see the look in your eyes when you’re happy to see me. I want to care for you when you’re sick and hold you when you’re sad and be the person that matters to you like you matter to me.”

Kara sucked in a deep breath.

“I used to think I was happy just being Kara with you. Not being Kara Danvers or Kara Zoe-El, just me… but I’m not me without both of those pieces and being without them isn’t good enough. I want you to know the real me. The girl from Krypton who went to high school in California.”

Lena stood up slowly, clearly forcing her breathing even. She adjusted her robe around herself, and looked at Kara for too long a time, silent.

“I hurt you when I promised I’d protect you and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“What do you want from me? To tell you it’s okay?” said Lena. “Is that what you want? Because it’s fucking not.”

Kara flinched. She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Lena had given her this courtesy and she’d give it in return.

“It wasn’t just you, Kara. I built my whole life around you and your friends and they became my friends. You gave me a normal world. I got to be a regular girl when I was with you and the others. Do you have any idea what that means to me? What you did to me when you ripped it away? Do you have any idea how you’ve torn me to shreds?”

Kara choked a little, and tried to hold back the tears, and failed.

“I killed Lex. I killed him and I hid his body, myself. I killed my brother for you. And the worst part is I’d do it again. If it was him or you I’d kill him again.”

Cold dread flooded through her.

“That was my fault. That was exactly the kind of thing that I should have protected you from, and I failed you." Kara's breath hitched as she bit back a sob. "I should go."

Lena moved quickly and grabbed her arm tight. "Don't you fucking dare leave. You can't just say those things to me and leave."

Kara's nostrils flared as she sucked in a big breath.

"Lex told me who you were as he was dying. He showed me."

Kara looked at her. "Oh."

"I started to hate you. I started to believe the things he said about you. And what happened then? You told me! You just blurted it out!"

Lena choked down a sob of her own, and something in Kara shattered. Tentatively, carefully, Kara pulled her into a gentle hug, and Lena let her.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Lena whispered into Kara's chest. "I've lost everything."

Kara held her closer, breathing the soft scent of her shower-damp hair.

"I don't know what to do either," Kara admitted. "I just knew I couldn't bear to lie to you again, even by omission. I'll go if you want."

"You're not leaving," said Lena. "I don't want you to go. Promise you won't leave me."

Kara shivered. "Lena…"

"Promise."

"I promise," Kara whispered.

[fiuworks]

MAGPRIDE!!

hi yall!! ive just about recovered from a hectic day at london pride (very awesome, i got barricade for the parade for most of it, my throat hurts from cheering it was very good) and i thought about the archives having a fun day at pride too because my brain is rotted (also these r just my headcanons please don't whack me for these or what you think i should believe (outside the objective canon truth) i beg) (also i didnt colorpick some of these so .)

while i have you, please make sure to do your daily clicks at arab.org, please PLEASE consider donating to a gofundme on the Operation Olive Branch spreadsheet (will link both below) and remember that just speaking out and using your platform and voice, however small, will make a big change! remember: pride is a protest! never forget the difference we could make as a community! it is the LGBTQIA+ community that has stood up in the past to fight for equality, and we can keep going as we mean to go on!

if you'll just allow me to get on my soapbox a bit about pride:

i've only been to one pride previously in 2019 and didnt go again because of covid and other things, so this is the first proper time ive been out to pride with freinds freshly graduated settled in my trans and queerness bla bla and it was just absolutely amaaazing....just to witness so many kinds of people marching for a common sense of unity was so brilliant! you also get to see how much of your community is spread through institutions that often take us for granted like the NHS to name one, or how queer people are fighting for healthcare- i saw so many marching squads for so many medical causes, and what warmed my heart was that there were so many community elders marching in the parade, and what have you! there were also little squads for residential areas and stuff and it was so refreshing to see a city usually so divided come together........weeehhh

just to see it made me feel weepy after i had taken a moment to get home and decompress- it's really another thing entirely to feel like you really do belong somewhere! in the words of one of my favourite songs- do try to make a little birdhouse in your soul for your people- get people together! spread culture! promote diversity! advocate for causes! love! cheer! hug! i love you!!!

[dark-lord-tom-returns]

Let's talk about Magrat, youngest of the witches. Magrat wants to be a proper witch. She has the jewelry, she knows all the uses of herbs, she wants the mysticism and rituals of witch craft. She reads everything about witch craft. She has the talent for the craft and she has the drive to explore it. However, she still believes that magic is the solution and not the tool.

In Witches Abroad, she's been struck by the idea (literally, inspiration is an actual particle) that she needs to find herself through the teachings of ancient monks (re:CMOT Dibbler scams) and self defense classes. As a witch of the Ramtops. The place Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg have been terrifying and cowing into reverent terror for 60 odd years.

Magrat, recently promoted to fairy godmother in a scheme to get Granny and Nanny to leave home to take care of an evil godmother, gets a magic wand. She doesn't get a lot of instructions for the wand. In fact, the only thing she learns about it is that it tends to reset to pumpkins.

And that's it.

She doesn't try to learn more about the wand. Magrat decides that the best way to use the wand is to wave it and wish. She doesn't ask for help from the others, she's the new godmother after all.

At first glance, that doesn't fit with her character. She wants to know everything about the craft. She wants to be a "proper witch" that does "real magic". She thinks that Granny's philosophy of not using magic for most things is just an excuse to be mean and trick people, even if she does usually end up helping them by doing so.

Except it does fit perfectly. She looks for mysticism and wonder and magic in everything. She thinks that the knowledge of ancient monks on distant mountains (con men in the big city) know the secrets of the world because they are monks. The silver jewelry is magical because witches are supposed to wear them. The herbs cure sickness because that's what is supposed to happen.

Magrat focuses on the trappings of witch craft. She looks for things to make her more confident in her craft instead of trusting in her own abilities. So when she gets the wand she automatically believes that the wand is what makes her a fairy godmother.

It doesn't occur to her that the wand is a tool that she needs to learn how to use. To Magrat, a fairy godmother grants wishes so obviously the way to be a fairy godmother is to wave the wand and wish and the wand will sort it all out.

That's not to say that Magrat is a bad witch. When she lets herself be a witch in her own right, when she's not trying to act like a witch, she does some very impressive magic. Impressive enough even to Granny and Nanny. She's just young and new to being a witch and living in the shadows of two of the greatest witches of all time.

Granny has to constantly hold herself back from using magic because she knows she's powerful. Nanny is so talented that using magic is as mundane to her as walking through the door. That's a terrible environment for someone unsure of themselves and trying to get their bearings. It's understandable that she looks for things that help her center herself and boost her confidence.

I think these first set of witches books are a lot about watching Magrat grow into herself. She stumbles, she gets put down, but she is growing into the witch she is supposed to be.

Sometimes that means an older, crankier witch calls you a wet hen.

[comfortless]

God könig and his only worshipper who doesn't try to get him more followers cause she wants all of his attention on her

another strange vaguely Greek/Roman au?! ^^ (also to your other message: no worries!! being too nice would make me lazy!) this prompt is like a reversal of this and i am here for it!

content/warnings: suggestive, König may or may not have killed some guy no big deal..!

It isn’t as if he bestows great blessings upon you or grants your deepest, most guarded wishes…

It’s just that he’s lovely in all forms: the very apex of some marbelesque, masculine statue made flesh. Warm to the touch and so very real and alive that it was difficult to focus on worshiping him proper when your very being sang for him.

He’s probably only some great god of war, Ares, but without the long list of lovers and offspring - only you. There was nothing that he could do to benefit you much, just a humble citizen that had no need of taking up a weapon…

Yet he was so heart achingly beautiful with the docile look in his eyes, the contrast to his stature that bore the look of a proper hunter, you could not keep yourself from returning to him.

All of the other men in the city pale in comparison to the god you pray to, nestled up in the foothills where you make your trek day by day to speak… knowing that nightly he comes to you in dreams with little glimpses of futures or pasts: the things you can not comprehend yet those in Olympus could parse together with such ease.

As his only worshiper, you are never apart for long.

He descends that mountain each time to meet with you in green meadows with the gentlest look in his eyes.

He has no temple in which to pray to… but, you’ve made a temple of your own within yourself all for him. He knows it, knows well when you pray at your feet and he sheepishly orders you to stop that, stand, face him, and he would lend you his mighty weapon any day if you would just ask for him to use it.

Your god deserves and army of men to fight and scramble for his favor, a harem of women to tend to his needs… but the thought alone is enough to leave bitterness on your tongue.

You don’t want to share him, only savor the honeyed words and touches between the two of you, never muddy what is sacred with another’s prayers or offerings.

… Are yours not already enough?

You only find out that they most certainly are the day a suitor begins his arrogant courtship and… within that very hour he is no longer. A stray spear from the pit pierced right through him…? What a strange way to go out. You don’t even think to question it until you find yourself meandering through soft grass for your meeting with König.

He’s a warrior, too, he should know the intricacies of how a weapon that heavy might rise up on the wind just to strike some poor, silly man down before he could even take your hand and lie with you.

You tell him of this odd occurrence whilst you whittle away at a tiny carving of him with a paring knife, König sat just adjacent to you.

First, he tells you that a blade meant for herbs and vegetables is no good for wood. The dull blade is pried from your hands with ease and tossed aside into the foliage surrounding you both. No need for little idols when your god willingly comes down to grace you, anyhow…

Then, he tells you that… it isn’t fair for you to have eyes for any other. Is his presence not enough? Is he not stronger and more capable than any of your puny, mortal men? He could protect you, haul you up to Olympus and make you his bride, give you as many children as you want… Wouldn’t you like that more?

Your stare is so telling, hands shaking as you set the unfinished figure aside, and the words do not come, not when the look he gives you goes from adoring and sweet to near deadly in an instant. It’s the first time he’s offered to bless you with anything but bloodshed in your favor… a peculiar promise of love in return for your selfishness and gifts of milk and honey…

“I do not think I am worthy of that…” The words come tumbling, clumsy and weighty on your tongue. Could he detect the yearning there..? Surely he knew with the way he invaded your dreaming, and even now as his hand finds your shoulder to push you back down into the soft bed of the earth.

“You wish to make yourself worthy, little one..?”

You only nod, once, as your heart finds its way into your throat and your robe is torn away to flutter out with the wind.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Something Borrowed.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (+Hisoka).

Word Count: 1.5k.

TW: Implied Non//Con, Kidnapping, Psychological/Physical Abuse, and Manipulation.

The house was easy enough to find.

It was the only one for miles. A mansion, modern and well-maintained, tucked so far into the wilderness that the soft glow of the nearest city was barely visible in the distance. Chrollo lingered on the steps leading up to the main doorway, staring up at the flagstone archway before glancing down toward the note in his hand. Its contents were concise, almost charming in their simplicity; ‘borrowed something, pick up whenever, xoxo’, followed by a scrawled address and a familiar lipstick stain in place of a proper signature. He didn’t trust Hisoka, not like he trusted the other thieves, but if there was ever a place to be betrayed, this would serve well enough.

The door was unlocked, but he still took care to shoulder it open slowly, Bandit’s Secret tucked under his arm and his paranoia seeking out falling guillotine blades or lurking snares triggered by his entry. When no daggers or playing cards came flying towards his head, he proceeded onward, unsurprised and only a touch disappointed. Hisoka wasn’t the type to lay traps. His goal was to lure the object of his affection into his arena, to bring those he thought worthy of challenging him within arm’s length. Eliminating his suitors before they ever reached his den would only defeat the purpose.

The mansion’s interior was a suitable match to its outer face. The design was new-age, industrial, the color pallet limited to that of an oversaturated white and the rich brown of recently varnished mahogany. What little furniture there was had been thrown into a state of disarray – couches overturned, tables littered with empty wrappers and splayed magazines, broken glass sprayed across the floor and wine painted into everything that could hold a stain. He made his way through the chaos with a kind of voyeuristic revulsion, attempting not to linger on the heap of clothes discarded on the edge of the neon-lit pool, the spots of blood left splattered across a marble countertop.

On some misplaced instinct, he paused as he passed the door to one of many unremarkable storage closets – significant only in the fact that Chrollo, with his nen-honed senses, thought to stop next to it. With some reluctance, he twisted the knob and pulled the door open, finding the bodies of three men; one dressed in a cheap suit, the other two in bullet-proof vests, all donning identical slit throats and glassy eyes. They’d been killed that day, evidently. Sometime in the last few hours, if the wet blood still drying on their chests was any indication. He could imagine you, rooting through the wine cabinet only a breath away, blissfully unaware that you were standing next to such carnage. That was for the best. You’d never taken well to carnage, and he’d hate for such distress to be inflicted on you by any hands but his own.

With the first floor scouted, he proceeded to the second. He found you in the master bedroom, sprawled out on the center of a king-sized mattress, stripped bare save for the white sheet loosely wrapped around you. Another half-emptied champagne bottle sat precarious ly on the bedside table, and you looked as if you’d doused yourself in water and only just begun to dry – your hair still partially damp and clinging to your skin. One of your wrists had been handcuffed to the lowest bar of the headboard, a long red cord wrapped in a deceivingly intricate pattern over your chest, but you didn’t seem terribly concerned about your bondage. Granted, you probably weren’t in a state to be worried about much of anything.

It was a strange feeling. Not exactly anger, but a different sort of rage – tight and slippery and knotted, softened by his amusement but, in the same breath, complicated by his affection for you, his hesitance to see you used to fulfill someone else’s whims. He wanted to hurt Hisoka, to maim him so severely that he had only the strength left to beg for mercy. He wanted to shake his hand, to congratulate him on a game well played and offer him a reward that Chrollo, admittedly, hadn’t thought of yet. He wanted to bend at the waist and wretch until whatever was lodged in his throat had been pulled free. He wanted to drive a knife into your throat and drag until he hit—

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his spiraling thoughts. His attention was drawn to the doorway of an adjoining bathroom, where Hisoka stood, a towel around his waist and a cloying smirk already playing at his lips. Unlike you, he was clearly still in a state of semi-coherency, his posture straight and his stare intent, as if he expected something more from Chrollo than what he’d already taken. “Finally,” he said, his tone airy and dripping with self-satisfaction. “I thought you’d decided not to join us.”

Chrollo didn’t respond, only watching as Hisoka came to sit on the edge of your mattress. His towel was allowed to fall away, his hand drifting to your cheek, where you nuzzled into his palm. On reflex, his gaze narrowed, Bandit’s Secret falling into the palm of his hand, but Hisoka only laughed. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’ve kept our little playdate strictly above the belt.” He let his head lull to the side. “Much to this one’s disappointment. You have to stop neglecting the poor thing – it was all I could do to stave them off.”

Another strange irk, this one more violent than the last. His lips parted, but before he could speak, your eyes were flickering open, your lips pulling into a sleep-addled grin as you saw Hisoka above you. “Is it time to…” You trailed off, fading into a yawn as your hazy attention drifted elsewhere, towards the foot of your bed. You almost seemed unable to process him for a long, idle moment before you collapsed back into reality – your expression snapping from one of confusion to utter horror, your unrestrained hand shooting upward to clutch at Hisoka’s shirt. “Chro— He’s—”

Hisoka cut you off. “I know, dear.”

“Why aren’t you—”

“Because I invited him.” He chose to put you out of your misery sooner rather than later, pulling away from you and pushing himself to his feet. “The more the merrier, right? I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted Chrollo to feel left out.”

You looked at Hisoka like a kicked puppy, desperate to know why your master would be so cruel. A half-hearted attempt was made to sit up, but your arm caught your shackles, jerking you back down just as quickly. You cursed under your breath, groping frantically at the cuff, but whatever latch or lock you were looking for wasn’t within your reach. It was cute to see you scramble, though. “You— You promised you’d help me get away from him—”

“And I said I’d get you out of that stuffy little hotel room and help you have a little fun. You can’t hold me responsible for any assumptions you made about my intentions, sweetheart.” He found a seat on the other side of the bedroom, placing Chrollo between himself and you. “You got your fresh air, and I let you have your fun. Now, it’s time for your daddy to have his.” He looked towards Chrollo. “You are going to play with us, aren’t you?”

Chrollo would tear him apart, limb from limb, and keep him alive to watch his blood drain from his mutilated body. Chrollo would buy him a drink next time his Spiders met somewhere with a decent bar. “That depends on what you want me to do.”

With an airy chuckle, he sank back in his seat, what little rigidity he’d once had allowed to fall away with merely the suggestion of Chrollo’s complicity. “Like I said – it’s clear you’ve been neglecting the poor thing.” He paused, pressed his tongue against his teeth. “Show me what a good caretaker you can be, won’t you, dear?”

Chrollo was quiet for a long, slow moment.

Then, he brought a hand to his collar, and laughed.

It was cute – how wide your eyes went as he turned to face you; a caught rabbit backed into the furthest corner of its cage. Nails scratched against sheets, your lips parted in a silent plea to his remaining sympathy, but you’d done more than enough to earn your punishment. Hisoka would act as a witness; both to your misbehavior, and the corrective measures Chrollo was willing to take to make sure you didn’t do anything so idiotic again.

He watched your body go tense beneath him as he shifted onto the mattress, felt your frantic heart beating through your chest as he came to rest above you. He let his lips ghosts skirt over the corner of your lips, then your jaw, before falling to the crook of your neck. “I hope it was worth it,” he muttered, his voice nearly lost against your skin. He didn’t mind.

He had all the time in the world to burn your lesson into you, one way or another.

“Because you are never going to see the light of day again.”

[shadowdaddies]

can i please request dark reader x feysand where reader is incredibly morally grey and she will make the tough decisions for feysand and disguise them as something else so that they’re not hurt/sad about it. Reader will do anything to ensure their happiness even if it means being the bad guy, she has the whole court of nightmares in a chokehold and feysand think the court is scared of them but in reality they’re all scared of reader but won’t dare say anything bc one look from her and they’re dead.

thank you for this request!! I haven't written for Feyre in so long and this was so fun and different for me to write

The Real Nightmare

poly!Feysand x dark!Reader

Warnings: mentions of torture, depictions of blood and weapons

Eyes gleaming with feral delight, you flashed a wicked smile at the pathetic male, who lay whimpering on the floor. “Remember how gracious I have been today, Lord Thanatos, that I allowed you to keep this hand,” you remarked, voice dripping with condescension as you squeezed the already broken bones in his hand. 

He let out a high-pitched scream, eyes screwed shut as he rolled onto his side. With a dark laugh, you released his hand, only to press the heel of your boot into his shoulder, turning him onto his back. “You will look at me when I am speaking to you.”

The male forced his eyes open, fear in his eyes as they beheld the blade in your hand. Your lip curled in disgust as the scent of his urine filled the air. Pathetic, how easily frightened these “powerful” males truly were. You inspected the dagger, enjoying the weight of it in your hands as you flipped the shiny - shamefully clean - weapon between your fingers. 

With a sigh, you crouched down once more, using the tip of the blade to angle Thanatos’s head towards you. “What a shame it is that the same hand you used to hit your daughter, would be broken so soon after. Your High Lord and Lady weren’t sure of the proper punishment, with the tangle of stories you and Keir have weaved for us. I find it sweet that they want to be fair, to not harm you without proof of your actions.” You pressed the blade further into his skin, eyes darkening with pleasure at the drop of blood that dripped down his throat. “How unfortunate for you that I don’t care about fairness.”

Thanatos tried to speak, the words coming out a babbling mess. Rage filled you at his sorry attempts at defense. “Do not bother. I will not hear your words.” You dragged the edge of the blade along his jawline, smiling at how he trembled under your touch. “As I said, it is a pity that your hand was injured through your own clumsiness. I look forward to hearing whatever humiliating excuse you have for this injury tomorrow at Court.”

You stood, wiping the blood from your dagger on Thanatos’s tunic as you pulled away. Striding towards the door, you spared him once last glance over your shoulder, kindly granting one last warning. “When you speak to Keir and others of your incident, I advise that you keep in mind the protections that I have from your High Lord and Lady. If you cause furthers issues in this court, I will not be so gracious in the future.” With that, you disappeared from the male’s chambers, returning to your shared room where Rhys and Feyre waited.

“Hi love,” Feyre greeted, rising up from where she sat by the fire to give you a kiss. “Where have you been?”

With a soft smile, you wrapped your arms around her waist, admiring the twinkle in her blue-gray eyes, so innocent and kind. “I needed some fresh air, so I went for a walk. I couldn’t stay out too long, though. I missed you and Rhys, and it’s so scary here in Hewn City.” You shuddered, giving Feyre your best doe eyes as you played the role of frightened fawn. 

“Oh, darling,” Rhys cooed as he entered the room. Pressing a kiss to your head, his thumb stroked your cheek in reassurance. “I’m sorry that you have to be here. We’ll make our appearance with you at Court tomorrow, so that everyone knows you are ours and won’t harm you. Then we can go home to Velaris.” You nodded, leaning into his touch, your muscles visibly relaxing. That seemed to satisfy them, both of them letting you go to get ready for bed.

The next day, you stood in the mirror, Feyre coming up behind you to rub your arms in a soothing motion. “You look beautiful,” she murmured, leaning down to press a kiss below your ear. Releasing a shaky breath, you nodded your thanks. You knew you looked beautiful, in your typical Night Court attire - a black, low neck dress with a high slit that allowed you to keep the dagger at your thigh hidden unless you needed access to it.

You strode through the doors, keeping your head high as you took your seat next to Rhys and Feyre on the dais. Rhys sent a wave of comfort down the bond, which only encouraged the wicked smirk you gave the group of Lords to your left. In an unspoken order, you flicked your eyes from them to your right where Rhys and Feyre sat, and the Lords bowed their heads even lower, each of them murmuring praises to their High Lord and Lady. 

“I’m glad to see some semblance of respect still remains in this Court. However, this does bring forth the matter of Thanatos and his daughter. Keir, what do you have to say about the matter?” Rhysand questioned, dark power emanating through the room as he spoke. Keir stepped forward, eyes downcast as he refused to look in your direction. 

“My Lord, I cannot speak as to whether Thanatos is guilty. I defer to your wise judgment, as I bring him forth for questioning.” Keir’s eyes flicked in your direction for barely a moment as he ushered Thanatos forward, the sad excuse for a male swallowing thickly as you bared your teeth at him, a promise that he would pay for that glance later.

Thanatos stepped forward, bowing before the throne with a wince. “My Lord, my Ladies,” he greeted through gritted teeth.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow in amusement, his gaze landing on Thanatos shattered hand. “My, Thanatos. What has happened there?” 

The male swallowed, a sliver of wisdom shining through the cracks of his remarkably dim brain when he refused to look in your direction, instead directing his emanating fear towards Rhys and Feyre. “My Lord, I had an accident, you see - I was practicing my swordplay and the weapons rack fell on my hand.”

Feyre leaned forward, interest clear in her eyes as she scrutinized Thanatos’s words. “Why didn’t you seek a healer?” 

The glare in your eyes sent a chill through the room, males and females throughout the Court trembling under your furious gaze. If this fool didn’t sell his lie, you would make certain he never again saw the light of day. 

Thanatos’s entire body shook as he scrambled for an answer. “Because, my Lady... I felt as though the injury was an apt punishment for raising my hand against my daughter.”

Gasps sounded throughout the room at his confession. Feyre leaned back in her chair, looking down her nose at the male. “So you admit to hurting your daughter, and you deem your own ineptitude a suitable punishment for your wickedness?” 

As Thanatos began to scramble for an excuse, Rhys waved a dismissive hand, taking away the male’s ability to speak. “You do not determine your own punishment in this Court. You will be taken to the dungeons until we determine further punishment for your crimes.” Rhys looked to the side, nodding at the spymaster. “Azriel, if you will.”

Azriel nodded, walking over to where Thanatos now kneeled on the floor. Daring to take one look at you - the violent gleam in your eyes which promised a worse fate than Azriel would deliver - and Thanatos nodded, accepting the spymaster’s hold as he was spirited away to the dungeons. 

You followed Feyre and Rhys out of the throne room shortly after, returning home to Velaris. Feyre brought a blanket, wrapping you up in comfort as Rhys made hot chocolate, the both of them murmuring praises to you for how brave you were to endure the Court. You smiled, relaxing into their arms as you let them comfort you from the horrors you had just witnessed. If they only knew.

Part 2

[taiyaakii]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ You belong to me ! . . . ( 양정원 )

— pairing: 양중원 x reader — contains: possessiveness, jealousy — now playing: 一子青葉

Jungwon was always there for you. Crying? He has tissues and ice cream. Stressed? He's calming you down and holding you. Boy treats you badly? He's beating him up the next day.

Granted he thinks you're unaware of him beating boys up for you but when every boy who makes you upset randomly comes into school with a black eye and isn't talking to you, it's not hard to guess who did it.

Anyone who knows him would say he was in love with you and knowing him for so long you just can't see it.

He's flirty and he's protective, but he's never once told you he likes you like that. This is why when he makes you feel the way you feel, it's ten times more agonizing.

-

"I just don't get why you still want him... have a crush on someone better"

"No one else wants to date me wonie."

"Say's who?"

"Says the fact that no guy beside you talks to me... I mean I'm surprised he even showed interest in me"

Jungwon smirked seeing that text pop up. He knew it was his fault that no one talked to you. Granted he didn't mean to do it, it's not like he threatened every guy in school. It just happened.

The way he lingered over your figure, the way he was wherever you were at all times, the glare he'd give to boys googling you. At this point, the boys gave up. If Jungwon was around they didn't bother talking to you, especially cause a lot of them assumed you were dating anyway. It annoyed Jungwon that this boy didn't think the same as the others.

"mmm date me ;)"

You were too in shock to reply to his boldness so you just waited till the 3 dots popped up again.

"I'm kidding"

You sent a rolling eye emoji back. Not planning on amusing the flirtiness

"Good night wonie"

"nooo you can't leave me baby :("

"It's 10pm... we both need to go to bed"

"mm orrr instead of sleeping.. i pick you up and we go for a drive" Whenever Jungwon offered to drive you around you knew it would end up with you sleeping over at his house, which was his plan, but you didn't need to know that

After contemplating for a while you agreed.

Not too long after you hear the roaring of his motorcycle engine, so you hopped out of bed and raced downstairs, trying not to wake your parents.

When walking to his bike the visor to his helmet was lifted up, you could see him smirking, looking you up and down.

He get's up off the bike and walks over to you, he places the helmet on your head, it was a pale pink helmet he bought specifically for you, perfect contrast to his sheer jet black helmet.

-

Finally on the freeway, you held on to Jungwon's waist, practically digging your head into his shoulder. You enjoyed riding with Jungwon, the shining city lights, the cool race cars that came out at night, the way Jungwon would take you to whatever store and spoil you. It was fun.

What you didn't expect was for Jungwon to take you to a street race. You knew he went to them but he had never taken you to one before. Jungwon could tell you were confused, he chuckled at your puzzled look. "I wanted to show you off a bit," he says with an attempted wink.

But it only left you more confused, "Show me off?" you take your helmet off

Instead of giving you a proper answer he simply just took your hand and walked you over to a group of guys, they were all rallying around a few expensive racing cars, "Here comes Jungwonie" One of them said in a teasing manner

Jungwon just rolled his eyes before speaking up "Everyone this is name" A few of the boys said hello and were kind enough but one kept silent. He looked you up and down as he leaned on the car behind him, his brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed "What are you doing with a boy like Jungwon?" followed up by a chuckle

Both you and Jungwon were slightly confused but you asked him what he meant. "Oh nothing, nothing I just," he paused for a minute "I don't want you to get hurt that's all" You turned your head slightly at his remark and he smirked as he continued "You're a cute girl you know? This just isn't the safest place" You looked at Jungwon with confusion, and Jungwon was looking at the man with a pissed-off look, tongue in his cheek, he threw his arm around your shoulder and started "Knock it off"

"What? I'm just letting her know she should be careful.. that's all." The boy stated as he started to walk away, ending off with a wink. You weren't sure what he meant by any of it, as it was pretty out of the blue so you asked Jungwon who was still glaring at the boy but he mumbled "Don't worry about it"

-

After that Jungwon kind of just dragged you around all night, talking to his friends, showing off his motorcycle, etc.

He had his arm wrapped around you practically all night but he let go of you for a split second to talk to some girl, as he did the boy from earlier grabbed your arm.

You yelped in shock as he spun you around to look at him, "Hey cuttieee" he dragged out

You let out a small hi as you kept glancing at Jungwon, hoping he'd come to intervene. "You know, I don't think Jungwon's the right guy for you.." You whipped your head back around to look at him with confusion "What do you mean?" He smiled "He's toxic, doesn't know how to treat a girl properly you know?" You looked at him with even more confusion

"Hmm, why don't I take you to my house? Hm? Show you what a real man is" He put his face close to yours, you could tell he had been drinking from the whiskey on his breath.

Starting to get nervous you politely declined and tried to wiggle out of his grip, just as he gripped your arm harder you heard a familiar voice from behind you "The fuck? Let go of her" When the boy didn't listen Jungwon pushed him off of you, and he tumbled backward bumping into a car "What was that for dude?" The boy questioned

Jungwon and the man started yelling back and forth, luckily the car engines were too loud for anyone to notice the situation.

Giving up Jungwon rolls his eyes, grabs your wrist, and walks off to his bike, thinking the guy gave up as well cause he didn't follow you two.

-

Eventually, after a while of driving you guys pulled up to your house, Jungwon walked you to the front porch, still holding on to your wrist, before you could open the door he turned you around and placed his hands on your face, slightly tilting your chin up, he kissed you.

He was slightly aggressive but not in a mean way, more so in an "I've been waiting for this" way.

It felt like it lasted forever, his lips were soft and it was sweet.

He finally let go, after a bit of silence he smirked

"Go inside, it's cold out here." Was all he muttered before walking off to his bike and leaving you at your door, blushing and confused.

-

Later that night, around 1am after you fell asleep, he texted you nothing but an "I love you"

Guess you really have to drop that crush of yours

@ featki

[novacorpsrecruit]

THEME: Steddie Fics that fucked me up (so you should read them too)

There Are No Incurable Ills by indigofudge (ao3)

T | wc 28,486 | cw depictions of wounds/blood, illnesses, infections, sepsis

Summary: /Eddie blinks rapidly. Tears gather in the corners of his eyes. His chest heaves in panting breaths. “Dustin,” he says, jagged as it leaves his mouth.

“Dustin’s safe.” Steve’s thumb swipes at his cheek, brushing away the tears as they start to fall. “You did what I explicitly told you not to do, but he’s safe.”

Eddie just stares, shiny eyes searching Steve’s face with pupils blown wide. Then he breaks out into a soft grin. It’s tender, almost shy.

Fuzzy static pinches at Steve’s chest. He swallows distractedly, unable to pull his gaze away from Eddie’s. “Just let me- let me finish patching you up, okay?” /

OR

Steve secretly harbors Eddie in his house while Eddie recovers. Unfortunately, battling blood poisoning and sepsis without antibiotics is not as easy as it seems - which is, granted, not that easy. And Steve, in the proper Harrington spirit, has decided to shoulder this burden all by himself.

Honestly I think this is one of the first Steddie fics I ever read and I still think about it.

Post season 4, Dustin begs Steve to go and get Eddie’s body. Steve wants to say no, not wanting to go back to the Upside Down, but if it makes Dustin feel better, he’ll do it. By Lady Luck herself, Steve finds Eddie — alive but barely breathing. He knows he can’t take him to the hospital, so he takes him to his house where he attempts to nurse Eddie back to health. Steve does his best to take care of Eddie while lying low from the law, Eddie’s still a wanted man.

But is the antibiotics he’s giving eddie good enough to heal Eddie back to health?

Hands Where I Can See Them by Solarmorrigan (ao3) @solarmorrigan (tumblr)

T | wc 29,177 | no cw

Summary: Eddie thinks that he and Steve have a good thing going; being friends with benefits is honestly a pretty sweet deal. Steve is a great friend, the sex is great, everything is great. Except for the fact that Steve hadn't realized they were only friends with benefits

Except for the fact that Steve thought they were in a relationship

Except for the fact that Eddie doesn't realize how much he'd valued that relationship until it's gone (and he's trying his damnedest to get it back)

When I say crying, screaming, throwing up, I mean it. This fic hurts so fucking good 😭 Miscommunication to the fucking T. When this was being posted on tumblr in parts I almost couldn’t read it because of how much my heart ached. Eddie Munson is a fucking dumbass and he better be kissing the ground Steve walks on.

Of Space and Time by Appledagger (Ao3) @appledaggerst (tumblr)

M | wc 56,372 | cw MCD, drinking to cope

Summary: In 2073, the world is still moving forward despite arid climates and the quick relay race between man and machine. Within the walls of the hospital center at Vecna Labs, Steve Harrington has just woken up after an accident inside the depths of the classified sections of the lab. Stricken with amnesia, he is brought to Edward Munson’s home to recover and to be observed during his recovery after experimental treatments had brought him back from the brink of death.

In Edward’s home, Steve finds question after question. Why does Eddie seem to hate him so much? What do all the observations have to do with his accident? What exactly is going on with his malfunctioning mind, and what does this all have to do with Creel and Vecna’s tech monopoly? All the while, Steve struggles with the feeling that there was something more to his relationship with Eddie that he can’t quite understand.

What the fuck.

Okay for real, I fucking love this. I don’t read much sci-fi but this is so fucking good, Philip k dick is in shambles. It’s hard not to hate Eddie in the first half of the fic, but slowly you understand why he’s so cold to Steve.

This also got Sleeping Sickness by City and Colour on my Spotify and I fucking cry every time it comes on shuffle. Thanks for that 😭🖤

Tuesday’s Gone With the Wind by thisapplepielife (ao3) @thisapplepielife (tumblr)

E | wc 184,150 | cw drug abuse, airplane crash

Summary: Corroded Coffin's leased plane went down on June 13th, 1995 in the woods of Louisiana.

Ten people on board died.

Eddie Munson survived.

Before he survived, he really lived.

First off: I’m going to be 85 in a nursing home talking about this like it actually happened. My grandchildren will know about this fic and believe that corroded coffin was a real band.

This AU goes back and forth between the present (a documentary) and the past (1989-1990s). It follows Corroded Coffin as they’re doing small Midwest tours and looking for a road manager. Steve Harrington happens to fall into Eddie’s lap, and after much persuasion, Steve joins the crew. As the story goes on, the band grows in popularity and their little crew grows larger and larger.

Please read the author’s note before starting! This fic is dear to me but it aches so much. This is a love story, but it’s so fucking real with real struggles and it’s painful but so is life. I don’t know how many times I’ve cried reading this fic.

The Perfect Loving Nightmare by purpleweekend (ao3)

E | wc 95,344 | cw memory loss, internalized homophobia | spice 🥵🥵🥵

Summary: He laid back first onto their couch, deciding he just needed to sleep it off. He had plenty of time before Eddie would be home. He could take a shower and hide the evidence of his own stupidity when he woke up.

He let his eyes slip closed, head throbbing all the while.

Everything would be fine.

Okay technically this is part 2 of an amnesia series, but somehow I found this one first and read it and cried. I read Living the Unknown Dream afterwards. I don’t think you have to read these in order, I kind of liked reading this one first then going to the second one and going “Oh! That’s what happened!”

By the title of the series, you guessed it, it’s an amnesia fic! Steve hits his head and lays down. When he wakes up, there’s someone in his house, checking on him. Trying to manhandle him off the couch and — oh, there’s blood. Steve wants nothing to do with this stranger, he wants his parents. The stranger, nearly in tears, convinces Steve to go to the hospital. At the hospital, Steve finds out that the stranger is Eddie Munson. His supposed husband.

And the head injury he got is one of many, and with the previous brain damage (that he doesn’t remember receiving), they’re unsure if he will ever get his memories back.

Smut is peppered in between the angst and it’s very good, and very hot. You’ll cry then read smut and cry and read smut and — you get it.

You’re Divine by Oonionchiver (ao3) @azrielgreen (tumblr)

E | wc 259,565 | cw suicidal ideation, read the tags | spice level: 🥵🥵🥵 again, read the tags!! Not gonna be everyone’s cup of tea

Summary: ‘Blood?’ Eddie says again.

Eyes black but for the slice of iridescent white in the centre. His teeth are sharp, his hands are weapons and Steve thinks maybe he’s made a mistake doing this without telling Eddie first. Eddie’s focus lowers, it moves to his left hand which is…

Oh fuck.

It’s dripping blood onto the floor.

‘Shit,’ Steve says, takes a single step back, swallows. ‘Eddie, I’m so sorry, fuck.’

Eddie can’t seem to look away, can’t bring his ethereal gaze back up where it belongs. Steve thinks he should run, he should flee. A tiny part of him knows Eddie will chase him. Eddie will catch him, outrun him easily.

It's more than a little fucked up how that thrills him.

Azriel’s bio on Twitter at one point read “wrote that fic that fucked you up,” and holy fuck they weren’t kidding. I think about this all the time.

After season 4, Eddie’s gone. Or, so they thought. Steve finds Eddie outside his house, covered in the grime of the Upside Down. He seems … off. Wrong. But Steve is more than happy to have him back and will do anything to keep him. Steve comes to terms with Eddie’s other, willing to do anything to keep Eddie here. To keep Eddie with him. Eddie … well, not so much.

There’s a lot of lovely scenes and scenes that I cherish fondly. Then there’s the quarry scene that makes me want to cry my heart out. The smut is not even exempted to the angst, please be warned.

Azriel has a companion fic going on right now with Eddie’s point of view. It won’t make sense unless you read You’re Divine first.

Please remember to leave kudos and comments on the fics you read/enjoyed! Support your writers 🖤

Prev fic rec: my favorite fucking idiots

[misc-obeyme]

Okay back on my human!au ideas. I'm gonna do a compilation post or something because the others are just rambles and they aren't exactly easy to find... I don't even have it in the masterlist anywhere... mostly 'cause these are just ideas that I have no idea what I'm gonna do with. asldfj anyway! Feel free to use them if you feel so inclined!

(For reference: Beel, Belphie, Satan, & Asmo, more Asmo & Mammon - you can also check the tag #misc human au)

Okay so I've talked about all the brothers except for Lucifer and Levi, but here's what I'm thinking.

Basically, I can't really imagine any of the brothers living fully alone, so while Beel & Belphie are both living on the farm (though possibly in different buildings) and Satan & Asmo are sharing a place in the city (probably in one side of a duplex because I think an apartment would be too small for them lol), I've decided the three older brothers live together, too.

BUT. Levi is a marine biologist. He has his own boat for research purposes (his research is likely also funded by the university where Satan teaches) and sometimes he goes out on his boat for weeks at a time. His main focus for his research is whales or maybe manatees or something, but everybody knows he's secretly trying to find evidence of sea serpents.

Still completely obsessed with anime & manga, I don't think you could ever take the otaku out of Levi lol. So when he goes out on his boat, he brings piles of manga and anime to catch up on while he's out there.

He has a lot of high tech equipment on his boat that he's especially good at maintaining. Other researchers often ask him for help with this.

When he's home, he spends his time holed up in his room playing video games, occasionally emerging for food and what have you. He also spends a decent amount of time working through what he learned on his expeditions and writing research papers good enough to continue getting grants. Satan helps with those, taking Levi's data and making it sound good. Sometimes Belphie helps out too.

All the other brothers seek out Levi when they need help with tech and sometimes he takes them out on his boat for rides or even if they just wanna get away for a couple days. Belphie especially likes to do this because you get some amazing views of the stars out on the ocean.

Lucifer owns a vineyard. It's not far from Beel's farm, but unlike Beel Lucifer doesn't live there. His house is in the city proper and as mentioned, he shares it with Levi and Mammon.

Lucifer spends a lot of time at the vineyard, though, perfecting the various methods of wine production to create a superior product. He's the real money maker of this family. While everybody else makes money from their various jobs, Lucifer's personal wine label makes the most. We all know that Lucifer would take care of all of his brothers if any of them needed anything. He gives them money regularly and doesn't ask for it back.

Human!Lucifer is much softer than demon!Lucifer in general. There is some angsty family history that I will write about in a different post, but basically he's been through a lot. Basically raised all his brothers himself and they mean everything to him. He isn't about to let them stumble through life because they didn't have enough money. Especially not if he has it to give them.

He's more indulgent, probably middle aged, tired. He was perhaps more intense when he was younger, but he's mellowed out at this point.

He and Mammon are both very business minded, so together they kinda keep everybody else on track. They help with the business side of Beel's farm, allowing Beel to focus on things like crop quality. And if for some reason Levi or Belphie don't get the funds they need from the university, Lucifer and Mammon come up with ways to supplement their income. Satan does all right as a professor and Asmo is a successful therapist, so they don't need as much help. But they will come to their older brothers for advice. Together, Lucifer and Mammon are especially good at helping their brothers plan for retirement lol. They're like, listen we know you're young and don't care, but you gotta start saving with that 401k!!

Lucifer thinks Mammon is a little too wild with his fancy cars, but he also admits that Mammon is good at what he does. Levi worries Lucifer when he's locked up in his room for too long or when he's gone on his boat for too long without checking in.

Lucifer is proud of Satan and Asmo, how they're doing well on their own together, how successful and well balanced they both turned out. He worries a little bit about Belphie, spending a lot of time alone staring at the stars, but he's also aware that Belphie is doing what he loves. Lucifer is also proud of Beel for pursuing something as difficult as farming.

I still like the idea of MC being the only non human in this scenario lol. The one pink sheep on Beel's farm. But of course there could be a situation in which they all meet an MC character...

Buuuut I also think I'm getting ahead of myself. We still got the tragic family backstory and the side characters to consider.

Anyway, this is just me rambling about my thoughts. More likely to come 'cause I can't stop thinking about them.

[nanabansama]

hiii it’s tsutsumi-kurose!! would to hear your thoughts on the new chapter!! do you have any thoughts on who the people in the red house were this time? do you think they were really trying to help mitsuba? they seem different from the kannagi we originally saw in the red house arc! also just any thoughts overall bc wow what an ending!!

Hiii!!!! 💖💖💖

I really should write a proper post but...let's see! Yes, the new victims are mysterious, aren't they? I enjoyed the twist that they aren't evil and actually tried to help Kou and Mitsuba. At first their "Get Out"s seemed malicious, but then you realize it was a warning... (so yes, I do think they tried to help Mitsuba!)

I also don't think it's weird to say this is Amane's doing. This was his house, and these people weren't here in the old timeline, to our knowledge. And yes, I'm also thinking these aren't exactly kannagi...

That said, notice where they are. They're submerged in water. They're gurbling and glubbing out their words.

As I've talked about before, the Entity beneath the Red House is associated with water. Water bubbles float around its speech bubbles. It lives in a well. The kannagi were sacrificed into a water-filled chasm. Given that we are in the Red House itself, I am very confident when I say the Entity is a part of all this. (Very obvious conclusion, I know, lol.)

Anyway, I have to imagine these people are similar to Kou in that they were lured to the Red House by Amane. What the victims have in common I'm not sure... however given the fact that Kou was drawn here after being possessed by "Tsukasa-kun" it wouldn't surprise me if these people also came into contact with Tsukasa-kun.

But if that is the case that is extremely concerning... are there a bunch of missing person cases linked to people from Kamome Academy? Or does Tsukasa-kun have a farther reach than we thought?

Let's also remember Amane's age. If I remember correctly the latest we've seen him alive was as a teacher spreading rumors in 1983. It seems like he died that year, or soon after anyway, given his relatively young appearance in Chapter 118.

This could mean he's been at this forrr... more than 30 years?! With over 10 victims at that. It's not too crazy then if he's been getting away with it and that people think the missing person cases are unrelated...especially since the perpetrator, Yugi Amane, is probably considered dead...

One thing I found interesting is some of the victims are rather tall. And some rather short. Either this is a stylistic choice or the victims are all ages. Kind of mysterious! It's hard to imagine elementary schoolers being connected to Kamome Academy, for example, and these beings are really quite short...

They are very vaguely defined though so maybe it's not important. I mean, they don't even have legs.

Regardless, it's at least safe to assume the victims are all from the city of Kamome. Which isn't too weird considering the Red House from the old timeline also had many victims from Kamome.

Anyway, as I was saying earlier the victims are submerged in water which is famously linked to the Entity. I really don't think it's too crazy if these were victims sacrificed to the Entity in order to grant a wish. The Red House has always been a wish-fulfilling house, after all; from when Tsukasa sacrificed animals to it to give presents to Amane, to when Tsukasa asked Kou if he would sacrifice Nene to get his mom back.

It would be strange if the Red House of the new timeline didn't have anything to do with wishes! But that's time paradoxes for you I suppose.

Much to think about...I'm sure I'm overlooking something obvious right now. But I really loved the chapter! Threw a big curveball at me with Amane having a hole for a face. It tickles me that the twins still resemble each other so much, despite the age difference.

Really curious about the ways in which they are different though... and how much of their true selves remain... hmm... still kinda hoping we might find Tsukasa in the Red House!!! Feels wrong without him tbh. Thanks for the ask!!

[percocet]

please read!

my home province, nova scotia, is currently suffering from uncontrollable wildfires. more than 200 homes have been destroyed, over 16 000 residents have been forced to evacuate, and the fires keep spreading. just now, we've gotten the alert that they're in bedford, which is pretty much right next to halifax city proper.

nova scotia is a very small and relatively poorer province in comparison to ontario, british columbia, quebec--so we have fewer resources, and all of them are stretched thin trying to diminish these wildfires. the federal gov is ostensibly prepared to help and send more resources, but the damage has already been done to the small and mostly aging communities that reside here. unless a miracle happens, that damage will likely get more extensive.

i know and understand that times are financially very hard right now for everybody, and it can be difficult to care about a place you've never heard of. as of writing this, only red cross is providing substantial financial relief for displaced people; the only "reputable" charity set up for recovery efforts is by united way. the newness of the situation makes it hard to determine who needs and can get what! so a lot of individuals have taken to sites like gofundme.

the coast, one of our local newspapers, has put together an ongoing list of resources to see for people who have been affected, and how others can help. (granted, a lot of it will likely be meaningless to you if you don't live here.) that said:

if you can help spread the word and keep nova scotia in your hearts, that would be greatly, greatly appreciated. i'll be updating this post when more information comes to light on how people can help our communities recover!

[scarfacemarston]

Tuberculosis and the Wild West

Spoilers for RDR2 , but it’s been since 2018, y’all.  Trigger warnings for serious talk of severe terminal illness and severe stigma. As of 12/20 or 20/12, I have fixed some of the wording and added a few new things so please seriously head the warnings. Ok, first, some background: I've been studying TB since 2018; my father had a form of TB twice. I'm a historian, and one of my specialties is the history of medicine. Of course, you don't need to be a historian to write something like this. Also,  please "like" and reblog, this sort of content takes time. Tons of pics of buildings, and info below of the “lore” and IRL people.

Background info about TB that y’all need to know: TB is still horrifically deadly and still a leading cause of death. To give you all an idea about how recent genuine scientifically proven treatments were-  antibiotics targeting TB were not  discovered until the late 40s. However, sanatoriums (TB hospitals) and similar TB-related places didn't all close until 1970. My sister was born in 1977.  To give you all an idea of how treeified people were of this disease, think of the stigma with the AIDS/HIV crisis in the 1980s or the early fears surrounding Covid.

TB is one of the three oldest diseases dating back to Ancient Egypt with early evidence appearing through ancient mummies. Starting around the 18th century, western people believed TB was a disease of the elite granting someone ethereal beauty, writing prowess, and artistic talents. It was known as a "romantic disease" and a "beautiful death" - both of which we know aren’t true.  Some western beauty standards are influenced by TB including rouged lips, blush, pale skin and a thin figure accentuated with corsets. However, the appearance was due to the patient wasting away. Patients actually had bloodied lips, feverish cheeks, a pale complexion from the illness and losing a large amount of body weight. That's why TB was initially called consumption.(There have been many other names for TB including the White Plague and Captain of All These Men of Death and phthisis which is Greek in origin.) However, people eventually woke up and realized, "Oh wait, this isn't so sexy” The disease spread like wildfire, especially in the cities affecting whole families as was seen with Doc Holliday. Soon, society blamed anyone who wasn’t a white upperclass person AND those who were "immoral . They believed it was someone’s own fault if they had the disease. People held a very e*gen*c view of the disease believing their activities or who their families were caused this.  Immoral in this instance includes thieves, sex workers, bar workers, drunkards, violent people, women who had children out of wedlock, said child born out of wedlock, and homeless people. Obviously, this isn't true. It was overcrowded spaces, poor hygienic practices, but also animals, especially cows and deer. Ironically, the deer/stag plays a huge role in RDR 2. A few aspects from RDR 2 were inspired by Doc Holiday, one of the greatest gunslingers and outlaws in American history. His talents with the gun were considered by some as otherworldly. He and Wyatt Earp are most famous for the shoot-out at the OK Corral. Doc was dying of TB and headed west in order to potentially receive some medical attention, but found out that being an outlaw was great fun. Watch Tombstone for a fictionalized version of him. He had a very colorful life, but died of TB in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, at the age of 36. The same age as you know who.

This leads us to RDR 2 itself. The short answer about  survival is potentially yes, but with some major stipulations. I have traveled across the country studying TB and visiting TB sites and have seen these locations firsthand. Read further to read how survival was possible and for pictures of key locations.

IF Arthur had rested, maintained a proper fat rich diet, rested in especially clean air and partook in light exercise, he MIGHT have had a chance. I would estimate a 60-70 percent chance based on my readings of TB survivors. The chance of survival  could be more if he he headed West immediately after diagnosis. The wealthy traveled to newly built luxury resorts, but most people lived in tent colonies, so Arthur would be very familiar with the site. Hell, if the gang moved West, and followed the conditions I mentioned above, he MIGHT have been able to recover without heading to a TB colony. The the gang wasn't stable, and they were being hunted down, etc. However, people were pissed about the TB patients heading west to settle on "their land" (which is, of course, Native American land that was stolen). This pushed people to the outskirts of town and eventually, the establishment of sanatoriums which were tuberculosis treatment centers. 

Both the picture above and below would be an example of the tents used by TB patients to camp out. The top picture was probably taken around the 1890s which is Arthur’s lifetime while the picture blow is probably from a later era like the 20′s based on the clothing. City people in big cities sometimes camped out on the roofs of their flats and apartments hence the setting of the second picture. 

Due to the extreme fear, people were literally dropped off by families/friends or even government officials far outside of town. You did not want society to know that you had loved one with TB or else the stigma would affect you as well.  Later, TB patients were forcibly institutionalized. Many of these patients were ashamed of their affliction, but also felt further shame that their loved ones could be ostracized by society. I cannot stress enough how horrific this disease was and how tb psychologically affected the sufferer and its loved ones. Many tb sufferers never saw their loved ones again due to their families shunning them. I interviewed the elderly who remembered family members suffering from the disease and it still haunts their lives today. We see some of the shunning and stigma in the game, not just from the townspeople but from the gang. It's actually one of the reasons why I truly dislike a few unexpected gang members, for example.

At least Abigail, Charles, Tilly, John, and Sadie still treated him as a  human. Hell, Even Molly was kinder to him and she was really suffering in chapter 6.

I will tell you right now, realistically speaking, in no way could Arthur have done anything at all in chapter six. I’m not only talking missions, but any sort of work.  I won't go into graphic details, but one of the less graphic ones is that his hands would struggle to grasp objects, especially a gun. His joints would be too swollen. I know because I've seen it firsthand with my father and read plenty of accounts about it. Other than that, the game does a pretty great job of representing TB - however, Arthur could have been arrested or fined for spitting blood on the street which he did quite often in the game. Link goes to an academic article, but here is a more accessible link.

By 1899, people had been heading west for TB treatment for decades. People of all races headed west to Colorado, California, New Mexico, and Arizona being the prime locations. Dry air and or mountainous air were your best bets. Colorado was quite literally known as THE place for TB tourism as it was called. It was one of the first major waves of health tourism in the history of the USA. 

Another famous person and case study is Dr. Edward Livingston Trudeau. He himself suffered from tuberculosis who sent up tuberculosis huts in Saranac Lake, NY. For further study, other key locations include Asheville, North Carolina and in the mountainous regions of Pennsylvania. They huts looked like this:

These were also in Colorado Springs, Colorado Springs was full of them and they are still occasionally found in people’s yards today. 

I visited one in the Pioneer museum in Colorado Springs. I can post my pictures later, but this is one found in an outdoor museum.

The TB patients had a very strict regimen of never leaving the bed and used bed pans. Healthier patients had access to their own private toilet. Stronger patients could work on doctor approved exercises, while even healthier TB patients who weren't ready to leave facilities yet could spend the rest of their time working around the camp or sanatorium.  Below is how Arthur would have looked getting treatment if he wasn’t in a hut or tent:

Above: Women receiving treatment. Below: An 1899 TB facility. Most tuberculosis sanitoriums were built from 1905 onwards so John’s era was FULL of them. The peak of the sanitarium era though was 1920-1940ish.

The problem is TB patients had a very chance of suffering from pneumonia once TB went into remission. It's happened in tons of my case studies. If Arthur could have survived both TB AND pneumonia, then he would have been considered "Ok". Not good, but “Ok”. However, I can't predict how long he would have lived afterwards. Some TB patients had tuberculosis come in a second wave. This is, unfortunately, very common. Some people lived a few months, a few years and some lived decades after surviving the second wave.

 Fortunately, survival after two waves include people who lived hard, like Arthur. Trudeau lived till 68, and that is after 2 bouts of TB and pneumonia, with the third wave of TB being his cause of death.

This is very likely a reason why Arthur would have been in New Austin if they had kept him in the epilogue and continued the TB storyline. I personally do NOT think John was ever going to kill him. MISC NOTES: Related to RDR:  Important side note: Sex workers were especially blamed for spreading TB which makes sense because of the contact with multiple people, but it's not that different than someone who works at a factory every day, runs a shop or works at the docks, or in similar situations. Anyone could spread it. This is why it is actually technically very offensive to ask someone like Abigail if she had TB because it would be a way to imply she is unclean as a person. (Which people in the game already believe with some of the fandom similarly treating her poorly.) The history of sex work is my other specialty, so I am very familiar with their history. I will say, from what I gathered, sex workers did NOT seem to be that much more affected than others, but at the same time, we don't have a lot of records of people who weren't white upper-class Christian men. So we have these records if these people were arrested, but remember that all of the examples of people I mentioned were viewed as second-class citizens. Therefore, we have hardly any records of sex workers as actual people and historians have to be creative to find other ways to research them properly.  Modern day: TB is also becoming antibiotic-resistant at a frightening pace. This will become a massive problem. Treatment  requires at least two antibiotics - streptomycin being the main choice for the primary antibiotic. This treatment lasts months, and these antibiotics are insanely strong. They can really mess with the body's system. I've seen it. My father was one of the lucky ones only having to take the pills for 8 months. Many others take it from a year to even 18 months. Other people take the pills and undergo radiation therapy to treat TB. Modern science can't produce enough new antibiotics to outpace it, but alternative treatments do appear to be promising.  If you want me to write more about TB or for any other history questions, feel free to send me an anon/message.  Additional pics: Below: Sanitarium built around 1905.

Below: An example of a finished Sanatorium in 1911ish: