#i guess that was my sign to delete that because it is only going to get worse come October 27th

[chiistarri]

need 2 isolate myself and unfriend everyone #asap

[conspiring-limabean]

EDIT: This post was made about the first wave of basic barebone copy-and-paste scams. It is now outdated when it comes to identifying REAL, VETTED gofundmes that exist

If someone sends you an ask asking for help in Gaza, look for vetting done by a real person (do NOT trust ones that simply claim they are vetted if you don’t SEE the vetting), and check that their gofundme address isn’t clearly publicly listed in some other place. Then reblog their post. And block writing-prompt-s or anyone else that runs actual genocide survivors off the platform with poorly researched scam accusations

original post:

so apparently the tumblr donation scam farms are moving in on Palestine; this includes both slapping basic phrases like "Free Palestine" into their blog headers, but also some of them go so far as to claim they are Palestinian refugees who need donations.

Here is your routine reminder that whenever you receive an ask in your inbox requesting donations, check their ass. 19 times out of 20 it'll be a brand new blog who reblogged a few posts to seem older than they are, is sending out spam asks to random blogs, and will be deleted in a few days once they've already scammed people.

Check their blog's age by trying to scroll to the bottom and checking the post timestamps. Turn on post timestamps by going to Settings > General Settings > Dashboard Preferences. On any device, you can also see when a post was made by clicking on the 3 dots at the top right of it. Scam blogs reblog an amount of posts to try to seem like they aren't brand new and pretend to have older accounts, and it’s very successful against people who don’t scroll down enough.

Check the location and area code of a PayPal link where/if it says something like country.x=xx. The xx will be a country code. Most tumblr donation scams are for some reason in the Philippines and will have the code PH. No I am not saying to distrust anyone in the Philippines who needs donations, but if a brand new blog is claiming to be a refugee in the Middle East but their PayPal link is from halfway across the world, then well...

Reverse-image search any of the images they use and find if it was stolen somewhere. Remember that these images are often edited to prevent people from easily doing this, and this is not reliable but can be an easy sign if successful

Be careful with blogs that request people send donations through "Friends and Family" on PayPal because you cannot refund money sent in this manner. This isn’t a dealbreaker as many regular users also request this to avoid fines, but is an addendum to scam blogs when enough other red flags are raised. It isn’t unusual for them to insist on receiving money through FaF to the point that some will refund money not sent through that manner to prevent accountability

Follow scam busting blogs like Kyra45 that might pull up evidence you otherwise would not have access to. I guess I'm going to start bringing back my habit of recording the exact paypal addresses that scam blogs use which has sometimes been the only evidence of a new donation blog being a scam, and no one would know this if I hadn't been tracking them

It is disgusting that people would take advantage of an ongoing genocide for their own gain. Please remember to keep an eye out for yourself and the people you follow reblogging suspicious donation posts trying to steal aid from people undergoing a tragedy

[charlottecutepie]

₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??

my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language

“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.

It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.

Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.

It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.

"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.

Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.

You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.

Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.

"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.

"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.

Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.

"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"

Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?

"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.

When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.

"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.

"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.

Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.

"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.

What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.

He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?

"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"

Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.

"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.

"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"

"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"

"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.

"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.

He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.

"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.

William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.

William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.

Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.

He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.

"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.

Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.

"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."

He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.

Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.

"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.

Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.

"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"

You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.

William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.

William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.

"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."

He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.

Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.

"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."

[writteninlunarlight-years]

My Espresso

A repost of one of my first-ever stories. I guess it got deleted in my purge. Here it is back once again with a better name, lol

The day you died was tragic indeed for all parties involved. Your deranged stalker who killed you now serves life in prison, your fans continue to broadcast your music regularly, crying their eyes out, and your record label is on the hunt for the next ‘Hit’ girl. The only problem was you were a one-of-a-kind, naturally gifted with vocal cords, so sweet and sultry everyone fell for you. Your varying music genres make you an addiction to almost any music fanatic. You were the singer of your time. 

How did you keep that title for so long? Simply put, due to becoming the designated ‘shot of espresso everyone needs to wake up and have a good day,’ your fans were less than kind to any new artists or rising stars. You were an Angle, sweet inside and out, never letting your fame get to your head. However, many scandals and theories have been made that people can never surpass you because you sold your soul or hired people to knock down your competition. None of this was true, though. You were simply a bystander to your fan's actions, not wanting to seem unthankful for all the support that got you there.

Then it happened: your death. One minute, you were walking to the coffee shop by your apartment in the city when a strange man started yelling at you. Of course, the one day you don’t have a bodyguard leave with you, the paparazzi show up. If only that man were a paparazzi; as he got closer, you noticed the lack of camera, the deranged look in his eyes, and the shirt he wore saying, ‘Y/N be my wife.’ All you could think of doing at that moment was trying to make some distance between you and him, seeing as the streets were barren since it was late at night. Why did your best music writing have to happen late at night? Running as fast as you could, the man grew angry, and then bam, next thing you know, you wake up on the streets of a city, not your city; no, this was too red.

As you stood up from your prone position, you glanced at a window only to see not you standing there; well, it was you. It looked like you, but it also didn't look like you. Soft tan skin, chocolate brown hair, Hazel eyes, and a white, tan, and brown outfit adorned your body. You looked like the embodiment of the coffee you would drink at your go-to coffee spot. If only you hadn’t gone there that night. Maybe you would be your normal (E/c), (H/c), (S/c) self. 

Thinking hard about everything that happened, you remember being chased, him yelling obscenities at you, being shoved to the ground, something warm on your face, then a loud bang noise. What was that bang? You only remember the warm, sticky feeling, probably blood from hitting your head on the curb, then you fought a bit, squirming around; the bang must have been a concealed weapon of your assailant's choice. Jeeze, people are crazy…Oh fuck, your dead. You died. Gone. A memory. As this realization came to you, you began walking the streets of this new city.

All the inhabitants of this place looked like those demons you would see on TV or even read about in books. Looking up at the horizon, you see a large building with a flashing sign called the “Hazbin Hotel,” a giant ball to the left that looked like it had wings on it, and above you, a giant pentagram. The pieces finally clicked: you were in Hell, but why you were the sweetest human alive, even fame, didn’t get to you. Maybe Heaven reads tabloids and assumes you did participate in the fate of many of your rivals or that they thought you were a greedy pop star. Sighing softly, you turn your back on the hotel and make your way to the first place that helped you start up in the human world: a cheap manager at a cheap venue. 

~~~Years Later~~~

Years had passed since Mimzy and her crew had taken you in. She was the only demon in Pentagram City that didn’t ask for your soul immediately. Course, as you found out yourself, it’s because her soul, too, was taken from her. Meeting Mimzy was a breath of fresh air; she reminded you of your grandmother and all the pictures you saw of her singing and dancing at nightclubs when she was your age. Mimzy took you under her wing, gave you a palace to sing your sweet new music, and protected you with her clientele. Mimzy did have a habit of getting herself into some deep shit, though. Nothing you couldn’t help with, see as your popularity in Pentagram City grew, so did your powers. Some even compared you to Lilith when she was still around, a voice to conjoin the masses. You were no Lilith; you were simply ‘Y/N,’ so you compromised for a reprise of your old title: ‘ A shot of espresso to keep you going.’ Honestly, who knew demons still partook in human drinks and activities? 

As you began preparing for your next act at Mimzy’s club, said woman entered your dressing room. “Doll, oh, look at you so gorgeous. You're not as gorgeous as me, but you're still amazing. I have big news for ya’ Come and sit with me, deary.” Following Mimzy’s orders, you went to the small sofa in your Dressing Room and sat with her. “What is it, Mimz? Did you get in more trouble with those loan sharks? I told you they are dangerous; this owner of your soul is a real slow ass seeing as I have to save their ‘precious’ soul over and over again.” 

Mimzy just laughed, waving her hand in your face, resituating herself to look you in the eye before speaking again: " Don't worry about that doll. Of course, I would keep that opinion to yourself. He’s back and probably can hear everything around us. Speaking of which, that is why I came here. My dear friend Alastor and the princess of hell are coming to visit our lovely establishment. Make sure to knock their socks off!” 

You nodded softly to Mimzy, laughing at her; she was a firecracker of energy—a troublemaker, yes, but a firecracker of energy. Mimzy quickly excused herself, saying she needed to be ready to meet her guests and introduce the acts for the night. You sighed softly, returning to double-check your makeup and clothes again. 

Looking like a gorgeous espresso martini, as Mimzy calls it, you stood center stage, waiting for the curtain to rise. You hear Mimzy’s tiny heels hitting the stage and some mic feedback. “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you our star of the stage, your shot of espresso to boost you through hard times, our dame so beautiful and sweet, Y/N.” Cheers erupted in the audience as the curtain rose and a soft amber spotlight landed on you. 

Looking out into the audience, you hesitated for a minute. A handsome man in a red suit sat in the center of the tables. He looked like a deer, not the oddest thing you have seen in the city. The way he was looking at you, though, was intense. You felt the need to cringe and back away like his power exceeded that of an average Sinner. He looked dominating, powerful, and scary even though he had a giant smile plastered on his face. Next to him sat a young-looking girl with big red cheeks. She looked so happy to be present at this event. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bun on her head, with a black crown adoring her. Your boss, Mimzy, was on the other side of the smiling demon, giving you a big thumbs up. 

You took a deep breath when the song started to play on the drums and guitar behind you. You began to sing the song that had never been released to the public before you died. This was an important night for Mimzy, so why not go all out? As you began to sing, the nerves washed off of you, and you started to do your choreography, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of deep red eyes following your every move. As the song ended, you stopped center stage again, a soft, elegant smile gracing your face. “ Thank you so much, everyone. That was called Espresso, and I do hope you all enjoyed it. I will freshen up; please enjoy our band as they play some classic and new hits throughout the ages.” As you bowed and motioned to the band, they began to play. You walked off the stage, quickly stopping at your dressing room before heading to the floor and meeting the others at their table. 

You finally heard this mysterious, powerful demon's voice as you approached the table. “I never took you as the kind to allow other music in your establishment, Mimzy. Weren’t you also one always found of our time's music.” Mimzy just laughed, slapping the demon's arm. Stopping behind the group, you noticed the demon's ears pull back; he knew you were there, good. You cleared your throat for the others and spoke gently, “I’m sorry. Was there a problem with my song, sir? I didn't realize I would be in the presence of a music critic in hell.” 

The tension in the club could be cut with a knife as the demon let out a soft laugh and turned to view you. The young girl beside him was visibly panicking while Mimzy held a laugh back. The demon stood, bowing slightly and extending his hand to you. “Well, dear Y/N, it's nice to meet you. My name is Alastor the Radio Demon, and if you would like to call me whatever it was, you just made music by all means; I must be your critic.” That smile on his face never faltered. It stayed plastered there, if not a little more strained. Gently taking Alastors hand, you curtsied for him and stood straight and tall again, preparing to speak. “Well, Mr. Alastor, you don't seem to have good music taste, seeing as I am a prized singer in hell.” The two of you stared intensely at one another, sparks flying between your eyes. Mimzy cleared her throat, “ Y/N, this is Alastor, as he mentioned, the demon that owns my soul; he also runs the Hazbin Hotel with Miss Charlie Morningstar here.” 

You let go of Alastors hand, breaking eye contact first to greet the young girl. Charlie was the polar opposite of ‘Mr. Music Critic’. She compliments you and tells you how you reminded her of her mother, who has been missing for seven years. Keeping conversation with Charlie, Alastor, and Mimzy began to speak on the side. “Isn’t she interesting, Alastor? She had to have been powerful even in her human form. She may not be your level of scary, but she is something. When I found her within a month, Valentino had come to claim her and ask for her soul; she whooped him physically and mentally; she's quick-witted and cunning.” Alastor nodded knowingly; this could be advantageous to him. 

“Mimzy darling, why have you not sold her off yet? Could make a pretty penny off of her, maybe enough to pay me back for your soul.” Alastor stared at you intently. He couldn’t deny you were attractive in a beauty standard since, and the fact you weren’t afraid of him even if he dominated you in power was intriguing. Mimzy slapped Alastor’s shoulder, “She's like a daughter to me; she's sweet, smart, and a helluva singer. Why would I risk losing business here selling her off to the Vees or any other overlord.”

Tuning into Mimzy’s and Alastor's conversation, you turned to look at the Radio Demon in the eyes once more. “She also can’t get rid of me due to the fact I save her ass more so than you ever have or will.” The authority in your voice even frightened you. The smile on Alastors face tightened more, changing from boredom to interest. “Oh, is that so doll? You save my property for me.” You nod curtly to the demon holding his gaze. The smile slowly morphed into a smirk. Charlie chimes in, “Well, guys, it looks like we have overstayed our welcome; Y/N, you were phenomenal. Please let me know whenever you have your next performance. You have my number!” You nod softly to the cheerful girl before returning to the Radio Demon. 

As you all begin to stand from your seats, Alastor disappears and reappears at your side. “Ms. Y/N, it seems I have a business proposition for you. As Charlie loved your performance so much and I seem to have bad taste in music, how about we strike a deal? You come to the hotel and live there for free; you can sing once a week, and if you can pull in some more sinners looking to be redeemed, I will admit you have the better music. I will also allow you to broadcast your music on my radio.” You stared at the demon timidly, but no one made a deal that didn’t involve losing their soul. You brace yourself for the answer and speak purposefully, “What is it for you if I lose?” Alastor smiled at you menacingly, “I get your soul, of course, and you will do my bidding.” 

You hesitated, contorting your face slightly; losing your soul was not something you wanted to happen; no one did. You looked between Alastor and Mimzy rapidly, a slight panic overcoming you. As you go to speak, Charlie takes your place, “ Alright, Alastor, enough scaring people; we are leaving now. Let's go.” Alastor looked at Charlie before looking back at you. He nods slightly before saying, “I will return in the morning. Have your decision ready.” With that said, the duo left the club.

The night continued like normal; you sang a couple more songs and mulled over the conversation. You won't lie even if you were sweet on earth. Being here in hell made you a lot more prideful than when you were alive. Had someone offered such a stupid bet in the human world, you would politely decline, move on, and let your fans handle them. Alastor, though, something about him and this stupid condescending attitude made your blood boil. As the night closed, you came up with your decision. You went to your dressing room and began to pack a bag for the morning. You were so wrapped in your thoughts hating that stupid Radio Demon that you didn't hear Mimzy walk in. As you finished packing and turned around, Mimzy sat on your couch, a frown on her face. Setting everything down, you walked over to her and sat with her. 

Mimzy looked at you softly, her regular, boisterous exterior fading as her calmer interior emerged. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have done this. I only invited them to show Al how much better I was doing even after his absence. I didn’t expect him to bargain your soul with him.” You gently grabbed Mimzy's hand and looked at her, “Mimz, I got this. I am one of the best singers in hell. I will not lose my soul, and maybe I can bargain him into freeing your soul-” Before you could finish your thought, Mimzy stood up, tears in her eyes, “NO Y/N! You-You don't understand; Alastor is a notorious and powerful demon. He won’t give up mine or your soul. There is always an underlying bargain in his deals.” You looked up at Mimzy. She had never yelled at you like that before, even after ruining her favorite pink dress. Mimzy sat down gently and hugged you close before letting go. “Let me tell you Al’s story, the best I know of it anyway.” 

Even after hearing Mimzy’s story, you are set on proving yourself. Why did you feel the need to? You could only chalk it up to wanting to wipe that stupid smile off the demon's face. You stood outside the entrance of Mimzy’s club, holding her hand. “Y/N, you don't have to do this. Just ignore him.” You shook your head at Mimzy before responding. “I can do this, Mimzy. Trust me. You know where I am if you ever need me.” She nods somberly and hugs you close. The Radio Demon appears out of the shadows as you two part ways. “Hello ladies, Y/N, Mimzy, what a touching display of affection. Are you ready to strike our deal, Y/N?” You nod gently, extending your hand to the demon. With a soft chuckle, he grabbed your hand. Greenlight erupted all around you. Shadows and relic symbols appeared around you as the deal was bound. As the green lights faded, you were sucked into the shadows with Alastor and taken to a Hotel on the other side of Pentagram City. 

The hotel was lovely, nothing too overwhelming like when you were still alive. It was quaint and adorable. You could tell that Charlie put her heart into the place. Walking through the entrance to your left, you notice a bar with a black and grey cat sitting there drinking. Taking the initiative and having the desire to start already pissing the Radio Demon off, you walked away to greet the cat. “Hello, there one espresso martini, please; my name is Y/N, and I’m going to be a new resident and singer for the hotel.” Hearing your words, the cat looked up at you, practically spitting his whiskey onto the bar before collecting himself and cleaning up. In a gruff voice, he responded, “Never thought I would see the day we got more willing redeemers. Thought Sir Pentious would be our only one.” 

You laughed, covering your mouth politely as the cat put your drink before you. As he finished wiping the bar down, Alastor appeared behind you. “Ahhhh, good friend, you have met our new resident artist. Y/N, this is Husk or Husker, as some patrons call him.” You nodded politely to the cat demon, sipping your drink. Alastor sat next to you, staring the cat down. He acted like it was a sin that Husk even talked to you. As you finished your glass, a spider demon walked into the building, groaning about his day at work, sitting on your other side, and ordering a straight martini.

As he rose his head up, looking to great Alastor, he saw you. “WOAH toots, who are ya’ you gorgeous? I didn’t know another pretty thing like me walked these streets.” You smiled sweetly at the spider demon, sticking your hand out to shake his hand. You liked him. He had spunk. “My name is Y/N, and I am the new resident singer of this joint.” Silence filled the room; the spider demon's eyes widened. Looking at him confused, you pulled your hand back and awkwardly sat there. Behind you, Alastors voice rang, “Yes, dear flamboyant friend, that Y/N, the one who took Valentino down a few pegs before he became part of the Vees.” 

The spider's smile grew ten times as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Toots, let's be best friends, deal. My name is Angel Dust. It's a pleasure to meet you.” You laughed softly, connecting that this Angel Dust might be the soul of that awful month. “Deal, I need new friends now that I am out of Mimzys club.” Husker dropped his bottle, causing a shattering noise as he turned to stare down Alastor. “You were Mimzy’s singer; what are you doing here?” Alastor stared down Husker, the ever-growing smile present on his face as power exuded off of him. “Simple Husk, can’t you tell she's in a deal with me.” The room went silent as you looked down at your hands. Based on everyone's reactions, you soon realized you were fucked. 

The tension was thick between the three of you, Angel silent, not daring to interfere in a soul contract, Husker glaring at Alastor, and the Radio Demon eating up everyones distrust. What felt like hours passing was only a few minutes when Charlie and another woman appeared walking down the stairs. “I am telling you, Vaggie, I heard a new voice.” Your eyes connected with Charlie when she let out an excited squeal, barreling down to you. You laughed softly, happy the tension was broken, and hugged the excited girl back. “Oh my goodness, you came here! Are you trying to be redeemed? I am so excited! Vaggie, this is the singer I told you about!” You looked at the other girl and waved at her. When Alastor stood, she nodded back, getting ready to speak to you; however, Alastor had removed Charlie from your embrace. “Sorry, dear Charlie, but Y/N is part of my deal. She will be a new singer for the hotel, as Husk is the bartender, and Niffty the cleaner.” 

As if hearing her name, a tiny, child-looking demon crawled from the depths of somewhere and sat on Alastors shoulder. “Wowie lady, you must sing well for Alastor to vouch for you. You aren’t no bad boy, but you look like you could be tough.” You stood wide-eyed in shock at the minor demon that seemed to spawn into existence. Alastor stood beside you, shooing Niffty off him and placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Alright, dear Y/N, why don’t I show you to the drawing room where you will perform? You have three days before your big performance.” Everyone looked at the hand placed on your shoulder, confusion laced on their faces. Was Alastor, not a touchy person? All you’ve known of this man was for him to be touching you in some dominating way. You nodded briefly, following the demon to the drawing room. 

You had been practicing hard for the last three days. You met Sir Pentious while in the middle of a practice performance. He was apparently your biggest fan and regularly played your music in his blimp. You signed some autographs for him and told him he was welcome to come and watch whenever he felt like it. Of course, he never did come back while you were practicing. Angel Dust said Alastor frightened the snake demon, who was “getting too close to you and distracting you.” This only confused you: why is Alastor so against any demon getting close to you except for the striking spider demon? Two, why does he care if you get distracted? Shouldn’t he want you to lose so he can keep your soul? These thoughts plagued your mind every day as you practiced. You decided to do a four-song set, your three most popular songs and the new one you debuted at Mimzys place before you left, as a nod back to your old home. 

Throughout your days here, you have noticed so many odd quirks about these residents, but nothing too crazy. I mean, it is hell after all. Angel Dust was a famed porn star for Valentino; Husker used to gamble at the high-end casino in town; Nifty liked cock roaches; Charlie and Vaggie were fighting with Heaven about Sinners being redeemed. Even Sir Pentious had a past saying he tried to kill Alastor, which made you laugh and congratulate the snake demon. The only major oddball was Alastor; every resident said he was acting different, more pompous, possessive, and aggressive. Before you showed up in his life, he was just a condescending asshole who smiled all the time and had a wicked sarcasm streak. 

What made you special? You have been nothing but mean to this man, trying to get a rise out of him and knock him down a few pegs. The main consense from every resident after they learned of your deal is to be careful; he's a master manipulator. The tidbits of information you learned of Alastor were as follows: he hosted a radio show that, up until seven years ago, played screams of his victims; he still very much missed the 1920s; Jazz was his favorite music, makes sense why he hated your pop music, and lastly like any true child of the bayou he enjoyed his coffee, his coffee with three shots of espresso. No wonder the man was wired 24/7. 

Alastor was also not a touchy man; the only person any resident had seen him touch so constantly was you. Why? No one knows the answer; Angel Dust has his theories that he “has the hots for ya toots.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that notion. The pompous, rude, robust, attractive, funny, charismatic Deer Demon didn't have a thing for you. Okay, yes, you have a thing for him, though; what changed in the three days of getting close to him and everyone else? You have no real idea; you only know that the day you realized you had more than aggressive feelings for him was two nights ago.

~~~Flashback~~~

You had been summoned to the famed radio tower by Alastor. He had a treat for you, as he put it. Following Niffty's instructions, you ended up before the radio demon's door. Now you heard the rumors already he killed and broadcasted in his tower. Did your deal mean nothing? Was it a ruse to get rid of someone with a little bit of power? You must have been standing there for too long in your thoughts because before you knew it, Alastor had opened the door for you. “Ah, dear Y/N, come on in. We have a broadcast to get to.” You nodded gently and followed him inside. 

Taking your place beside Alastor, you notice how cluttered his desk is. You stifle a laugh; the thought of the infamous radio demon who looked so clean and polished having anything untidy amused you. You see Alastor pouring his regular coffee as you turn to the small end table with some chairs. “Alastor, I never would have taken you for a coffee drinker. You seem more refined to like English teas or other sophisticated drinks.”

Alastor just looked at you with a small, unstrained smile. As he finished his drink and poured you one, he said, “Nonsense dear Y/N coffee is highly sophisticated; Louisiana was a large export of coffee grounds we lived for this drink. Coffee was the way to go when we needed to work long hours tending to fields or making ends meet at factories.” You nodded gently, amazed that this man remembered his life so well after so long. While you sat and drank your coffee, Alastor got up to prepare the broadcast. While he was busy, you took this time to examine the Deer Demon in more detail. 

He was handsome; his fringe was odd but suited him well, the unforced smile looked attractive, and his suit was perfectly fitted, leaving just enough imagination about what lay underneath. As you caught yourself having this thought, you shook your head, setting your cup down violently. Alastor turned to look at you, his smile still soft but a questioning look in his eyes. You coughed softly into your napkin and stood to meet Alastor at his desk before speaking. “So Al, what is it you need of me.” His reaction to the nickname did not go unnoticed.

Now, the original reason you decided to use the nickname he hated was to get under his skin, but instead of doing that, he smiled at you wider. Gently, he placed a microphone and headphones in your hand. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. “I believe that for people to know you are here at the hotel and will sing, they need a sample. We may have a deal on the line, but I am no cheater.” You nodded, smiling at him; maybe he wasn’t so bad. As the broadcast started, though, the same pompous ass hole came out. Boasting about being missed and how he can't wait to give Sinners of hell an actual broadcast, he introduced you. “Now, my dear patrons, I introduce Y/N. Some of you may know her and even love her, but tonight she will be singing a song for you, a taste into her performance that will be happening here at the Hazbin Hotel in two days.” 

You gripped the microphone and started singing one of your more classic songs. Only the people at Mimzys club that night had heard the new song, and you didn't want to ruin the surprise you had been working on for your concert. As you sang, you couldn’t help but notice the red eyes boring into you. Was Alastor checking you out? No, of course not. This is just to even out the deal. However, how his eyes softened and he hummed gently to your tune made your heart flutter. He sure learned one of your songs for someone who hated your music. 

As you finished your part in his broadcast, Alastor played some old-time Jazz, muting the mics before leading you out the door. You said your goodnights and began to walk away when Alastor grabbed your arm. You turned to look at him, a sweet, innocent look in your eyes; a part of you wanted him to kiss you right there. However, you could see his conflict. After a few seconds of staring at one another, Alastor let go of your arm and cleared his throat, “Good night, Y/N. Be prepared for our deal.” You nodded, and before you could ask him what was wrong, the door was closed and locked in your face.

~~~Present Day~~~

The day you had finally come for your concert. You had spent most of the day resting and preparing for the show. It had been over a week since your last live performance. You took your time getting prepared, wanting everything to be perfect. You double-checked your hair outfit and even dabbed on an old perfume you found while shopping with Angel. Did you buy this specific sent because it was trendy in the 1920s? No, of course not. You weren't trying to impress the famed Radio Demon during your performance tonight. It finally dawned on you as you did your last touches. You either become soulless tonight or beat the Radio Demon. A shiver ran down your back; you were so caught up in falling for the man that you forgot he was ruthless and owned you now. It's not that you minded the owning part; you minded the soulless part. 

A soft knock was heard at your door, and you released a quiet “come in.” As you turned from your vanity to see who had entered, before you stood, Mimzy, you ran to your mentor and hugged her close. “You came, you came. I thought you would be too mad at me to come.” Mimzy slapped your shoulder gently before speaking. “When have I missed one of your shows since you started working for me? Plus, Alastor personally invited me and gave me a front seat. I don’t know if it's to torment me that he's going to take your soul or if mister Deer likes you.” Mimzy began nudging your side. You stifled an almost forced laugh, your cheeks growing warm. “Mimzy, you need to lay off the alcohol. That is an absurd statement. Alastor doesn’t like me.” She gave you a knowing look. “You may think he doesn’t like you, but I can tell you sure like him.” You looked away at the floor.

Mimzy gave you a few more encouraging words before returning to the drawing room. According to Mimzy, there was already a large number of people filling the place. Charlie must be going nuts trying to recruit people. With a final glance in the mirror, you began to walk to your call point. Instead of your average tan and brown ensemble, you wore an elegant blood-red dress for tonight's performance. One that just so happened to be in your closet this morning when you started to get ready. You did your hair up and let some pieces frame your face, your makeup soft and subtle, giving you a sweet, angelic look.

Charlie introduced you to the crowd; as you took center stage and waited for everyone to calm down, you began your set. You looked out to the crowd like you did all those nights ago, and sitting right in front of you were your new friends and him. He didn’t look smug or dominating this time. No, this time, he looked calm and compassionate. Even if you looked hard enough, it almost looked like he was enjoying himself. He wore a suit practically identical to your dress in color. You promoted the hotel between each song as you sang. Your first three songs went perfectly, keeping the crowd entertained to the fullest as you always did. Once your last song died down, the crowd erupted. 

A slow interlude played as you spoke softly: "I wrote this last song a long time ago when I was alive. I have only sung this song once at Mimzy Speakeasy, so if you were one of the lucky few to hear it, please feel free to sing along and enjoy it to the fullest this time.” You smiled softly before landing your eyes on Alastor. You don���t know what possessed you to sing this song, looking directly at him, but you couldn’t help it. You felt compelled, too. As the begging notes to Espresso started playing, a small group of people cheered, including Charlie. 

You began your normal choreography and sang your heart out, never taking your eyes off of Alastor for long, and from what you saw, he never took his eyes off of you for long, either. Singing your heart out as you finished the outro of the song you posed, letting the cheers and lights fade out. Charlie rushed to the stage and informed everyone about food, refreshments, and signing up to join the hotel. You, however, hid behind the curtains, blushing. Why was he looking at you so intently? Why were you suddenly so shy and concerned you sang poorly? You always had confidence in your singing.

Collecting yourself, you quickly refreshed your look in the bathroom before joining the after/recruiting party. As you were going down the hotel hall to get to the main part of the drawing room, an uneasy feeling hit you. An anxious, familiar feeling. You turn your head, and down the hall, you see a man making his way towards you. You turn around and keep walking, ignoring his shouts as you try to beeline for the entryway. You are panting at this point, memories of your death coming back to you, everything feeling too close to that moment. Just as you are about to turn the corner into the doors for the drawing room, the man reaches out for you. You brace for impact; however, nothing happens. You hear sickly screams emanating from before you as a pair of arms gently encase you in a protective embrace. As you open your eyes, you see shadows tearing the man who looked to be a part of the Vees team apart. Alastor covered your eyes before walking you back towards your room.

You didn’t even realize you had begun to cry or shake when you got to your room. The anxiety of reliving that night you died catching up to you. Alastor never let you go, even after you got to the safety of your room. Once you calmed down, Alastor went to the bathroom connected to your room. You sat there holding your face in your hands, probably looking like a mess from your actions. Alastor re-entered the room and brought you a fresh, damp towel. “To wash your face off; you probably don’t want all that on you anymore.” You nodded softly and began to wipe your face. Alastor scoffed, then took the towel from you, crouching down. Alastor gently held your face and began to clean it off. You two never broke eye contact. He was so gentle.

After your face was cleaned, Alastor took the pins out of your hair and went to find some more comfortable clothes for you. You were ushered into the bathroom and began to change when, through the door, Alastor began to speak. “Did he hurt you at all? I tried to get there as fast as I could. Before you came on, Mimzy was telling me about the night you died. I assume the Vees and their minions must have overheard and, in an attempt to weaken your resolve, make you remember that night.” You sniffled lightly, slowly opening the door, and you looked up at Alastor. Where was a man like him when you died? No, where was he when you passed that night? A choked sob left your lips as you hugged him close to you, crying into his shoulder. Alastor was amiss on what to do, but slowly, as you cried, wrapped his arms around you as well. 

As the tears faded, a green glow surrounded you and Alastor again, like when you first made the deal. No one signed up for Charlie's hotel, whether because the demon was mutilated one door over or because you didn’t come to socialize with the guests. It didn’t matter; Alastor had your soul now. Oddly enough, you weren’t as upset by this as you anticipated; you were happy about this. You felt safe, protected even. 

Alastor bid his farewell to you after you had finally calmed down. Neither one of you speaking about the contract or lost deal. You lay in bed, exhausted from all the crying and anxiety. As you drifted off to sleep, you saw your assailant again. This wasn’t an uncommon dream for you, but this time, it hurt worse due to the raw emotions. However, just as you were about to die again for the millionth time in this dream, a man dressed in red with brown hair and a soft smile protected you and saved you. 

You had been asleep for a little less than 24 hours when you woke next. Your body needed a recharge. You made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee; if you were staying at the hotel to sing, you could start putting together new songs and programs. You made your drink, noticing that Alastor's cup was missing from the cabinet. Taking your hot coffee back upstairs, you passed the hall to your room when you heard a piano playing your song Espresso. 

You made your way to the door and entered quietly to find Alastor playing your song, humming quietly in tune. You knocked gently and said, " Al, if you wanted a concert yourself, I would have given you one.” You smile softly. Alastor, unfazed by your appearance, probably already knowing you were there, hummed in amusement before speaking. “As a thank you, why don’t we perform a duet for me saving you?”  You made your way over to the piano, sitting down next to him and setting your coffee cup next to his on the piano. 

He began to play the start of the song, and you two began to sing together. Softly, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with your feelings for the man next to you. You had never sung this song like this before, and it felt special between you two. Some of you began to believe that this song was made for you and Alastor. Before you died, you knew you would meet your match—someone who met you as an equal yet also an opposite. Alastor finished the last few notes of the song. Comfortable silence surrounds you. 

Alastor smiled more naturally, “You know, Y/N, I do like your music. It did catch me off guard the first time I heard it, but your music has a lot of truths in it.” You look up at him from his shoulder, listening to his words. “From the moment I looked at you, I couldn’t get enough of you; when I met you, and you challenged me almost instantly, I knew I had to have you. You keep me awake at night thinking about everything that has happened between us in the last few weeks.” You smile softly, thinking back to the lyrics of your song. You lean up gently and place a kiss on Alastors cheek. He laughs softly when he turns to look at you thoroughly. “I’m sorry, doll, but you may have misunderstood me. I like you a lot; I feel that deserves more than a mere peck on the cheek.” You laugh wholeheartedly, this time without covering it up, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on Alastors lips. You pulled back, both of you smiling. “Now that’s an espresso I would happily take any time.” You laugh at his antics before placing your hands on the piano, now playing an old song you remembered from when you were a kid. 

All was well. Who would challenge the infamous Radio Demon, especially now that he had the notorious addictive ‘Espresso’ singer as his girlfriend? With your powers combined, he could overcome the deal he made, but that is a story for another time.

[littleststarfighter]

Feeling sorry for myself

I just want to apologise if I seem standoffish sometimes. Or if I'm super late to reply to anyone. I get too shy and I have anxiety. After my mum passed away it kinda got worse. But I'm trying to get better at not being so awkward and making friends. I don't have many friends offline and it gets very lonely. I often don't get to talk to anyone for days or weeks face to face or on the phone. So coming on here and chatting makes my day. I'm just very slow at it because I get nervous.

Things have been really hard. I'm unemployed again and finding it impossible to find work. The curse of not having a car and living rurally. I've got bills to pay that signing on for welfare doesn't cover. When it comes to my family, only my sister has anything to do with me. I hate where I live because I have neighbours from hell, but I'm stuck here. I'm feeling trapped so it's been hard to get myself out there in the world more. And that includes being online and drawing. I just want to curl up and stop some days. I keep trying though even if I feel like giving up. Because drawing makes me happy and I love the people I meet here. I've met some really kind and awesome people ❤️ So I guess I just wanted to moan because sometimes it helps getting things out instead of pretending things are great. Sometimes they're not.

I wish I was a faster artist. I think that's why I'm not successful or find work in art. No one wants my art and it gets depressing seeing people I shared fandom with become successful and develop careers. Like I'm struggling to get people interested in my prints or Patreon. Honestly I'm thinking of deleting my Pateron as I'm not doing great or offering things people want. I don't do much NSFW and my art isn't cute. I take so long to draw and paint it's ridiculous. And don't draw just the one fandom and like to branch out and that doesn't help. Especially as I've landed in a new one lately. I think there'll be a point I'm going to have to stop drawing as it'll be hard to balance that and stressing about not having full time work. It makes me sad to think that but bills are more important and I have to get out of this hell hole I'm living in. I only have myself to rely on in my life. My family or friends won't help me. I get people asking why I can't do something with my art. But you need to be super popular and know people, as well as being outgoing and great at networking to make that work. And I'm too slow, shy and have a weird style for anyone to hire me. 

Sorry, just feeling sorry for myself today and wanted somewhere to rant that's not my poor sister. It's just been really hard for me recently and I'm trying so much to be positive and get myself sorted out. But sometimes you just want to have a moan. Will go try to finish something as I've had a really bad social anxiety kick recently and I've not been online or drawn anything for over a month. I want to draw so badly too.

Sorry for moaning so much.

[spockandawe]

Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

[stolasdearest]

Good afternoon, may I ask for hcs for lucifer, husker, and angel with a fem! Goetia reader? Maybe some general stuff and something [not including Lucifer considering there’s not much he can’t defend himself from] where the reader is defending him in her demon form, for simplicities sake let’s imagine her demon form is the same as stolas.

Reader x Husk & Angel & Lucifer (Separate)˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

ׂׂૢ Pairing : Lucifer x Fem!Reader, Husk x Fem!Reader, Angel x gn!Reader

ׂׂૢ cw : Not Proofread

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

A few days a week you make special time for your Boyfriend, Angel; Being a Goetia doesn't exactly give you a lot of time to exist outside of your royal duties so this time with him was your time. Spending it in Pentagram city window shopping, talking and about anything you two get your hands on to do together, this time was precious to you. Now you're riled up at a "super fan" as he called himself trying to get to Angel who was standing behind you visibly uncomfortable yet Angel still tried calming you down but with no success; the situation quickly escalating as the dumb sinner tried rushing past you to Angel; with a swift hand movement you grabbed a hold of the sinners neck opting to just throw the freak against a building wall across the street, however quickly snapped out of your rage you looked back and saw Angel hunched against a club wall holding his stomach as he hysterically laughed. You looked for the sinner with no signs of him and looked to Angel to ask what was so funny.

"Babycakes! Ya didn't see the fatass truck drag the weirdo with him?!"

"..no?"

"you should've holy shit! It was hilarious his fucking face!"

You often didn't need to worry about Husker getting into fights or trouble, mostly because he stayed out of it at all costs not wanting to be bothered with the annoying fucks. So when you and Husk sat at a bar Laughing and drinking you were taken aback by some sinner who claimed to know Husk in his "glory" days and said Husk still owed him some money; Husk told the guy to simply fuck off and went back his whiskey, your instincts reacting almost on their own when you noticed a bottle fly past you and right into the dudes face; only after realizing he tried to attack Husker. Husk looked at you bewildered as you nervously smiled and used a little sprinkle of your power and throwing the now passed out sinner from the bar, apologizing to the bartender for breaking their booze and turning back to Husker.

"you're full of surprises aren't you?"

"I guess you could say that"

There wasn't much Lucifer needed protecting from, especially not anything in hell so you both had pretty calm lives together, everyone respecting you or being straight up afraid of you. You both laid in bed, cuddling and talking about your days and just general stupid things; Lucifer was in one of his Duck tangents when you heard a loud crash outside the bedroom and you instantly went on alert mode, your demeanor changed instantly and you went to check whatever it was with the scariest most threatening form you could put on, Lucifer simply following only a few steps behind you so when you found it was just some wind coming in from a open and forgotten window you immediately deflated, Hesitating to turn around as you started to hear Lucifer snicker behind you before he quickly rushed to hug you from behind, a smug giggle in his voice

"thank you for defending our home..~"

"go fuck yourself"

Authors note : Tumblr deleted my draft TWO TIMESSSSS omg...Anyway I decided to make Angels reader Gn because he is infact, Gay..If this was meant platonically I do apologize for making it romantic alas the ask didn't specify and I default to romantic :P <3

Taglist: @k1y0yo @ihavetoomanyfictionalcrushes @anni1600 @d0nutsaur - send an ask to be added -

[shiny-jr]

how to steal a heart (I)

[ a dummy's guide on how to steal the heart of a poor pathetic man ]

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Female reader. 

- Note: This has been an idea (heavily inspired by Howl's Moving Castle) I had in my docs since fall 2022. I was talking to a mutual about how writing on Tumblr vs Quotev feels very different. If I leave something unfinished on Quotev, I feel incredibly guilty which prevents me from posting new stories. However, on Tumblr, I don't feel as guilty. Not sure why. Anyways, I know most of my followers here don't care for my ocs, and I've been wanting to post this for so long. So instead of posting on Quotev, I'll post it on here just to get rid of the urge to share this story (might delete this later). This is the same story I posted that little screenshot of not too long ago, and that screenshot was basically just the prologue chapter. So yeah. Hope you enjoy?

IN WHICH THERE IS A SEAMSTRESS . . .

Black smoke concealed the window like a thick veil as the walls around her shook. It was a sure sign that the train was inching by. The screech from its whistle and clanking against the railroad tracks, so loud that it must’ve been heard over a mile away, only confirmed her guess. Her hands continued to cut smoothly through the linen fabric, separating enough to fulfill another order placed this morning. As the young woman worked to separate the colors and gather more material, the corner of her eyes caught sight of the smoke concealing her perfect view. 

The train’s fading motion and clanging against the tracks was eventually replaced by chatter just outside her workshop. It all became background noise, as she began to utilize the sewing machine. Lines formed over the cloth, blending it and connecting so they formed an article of clothing. Needles, pins, and scissors cut and dug deep through the cloth. Buttons of all shapes and sizes were neatly organized in little boxes, so she could easily take what she needed. Time just seemed to fly as she worked so quietly and efficiently, oblivious to the hours ticking by. Any other noise fell on deaf ears, even as a knock resounded on the firm wooden door that happened to be wide open already. 

A pause before the person tried again, knocking a little louder again. “(Y/n)?” 

Snapping out of her efficient trance, the tailor snapped to attention and straightened her sitting posture. Gazing at the door and back the window where the sun was much lower than before, it took her a moment to figure out what exactly was going on and what time it was. It was later in the day, and the woman at the door was Dalena… Well, everyone called her Ma Dalena because she was a kind older lady who tended to see the young female tailors as her own children. At least, most of the tailors. 

“We closed up five minutes ago. You can go now.” Ma Dalena gave an encouraging smile that displayed the dimples on her skin, showing signs of age evident by the wrinkles. Judging by her long dress and small woven handbag hanging from her wrist, it was probably safe to assume that she had evening plans. “Why not spend the rest of the day with us?” 

Us. Correct she was again. As welcoming as the invitation was to join Ma Dalena and the other tailors, she wasn’t willing to join them anymore. Not after the first time when she dared to venture with them. After shifts, the tailors had a tradition of going out into town. Not that it was a bad thing. But they used their time cafe hopping, searching for flirtatious men to satisfy their need for affection. Oftentimes, they would get caught up with the pushy kind. And ever since some troops from the military have returned from their duties, well… encountering a bunch of men who hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in months, was not ideal. At least for her. 

Taking her foot off the pedal to pause her work and silence the sewing machine, she pretended to consider the invitation before mustering a polite smile with a shake of her head. “Hm… It sounds nice. But I promised the client I would finish this so they can pick it up tomorrow. So I’ll stay, but have fun. Have another drink in my place, alright?” 

Ma Dalena merely nodded in understanding, her polite smile turning somber as she turned on her two-inch heels and began walking to the front entrance. The chatter of the other tailors ready and eager for the rest of the day off, went quiet as she announced, “We’re leaving now. Hurry now if you’re coming!” 

The chatter resumed, accompanied by the sound of more heels tapping quickly against the wooden floors in an effort for the straying members to catch up with the group. They complimented each other's outfits they spent days making by hand, discussing various fashion trends, gossiping about clients and others in town. 

In a way, she did and she didn’t regret accepting the invitation. It may have been nice to have good company for once, but it never felt right when she was present within their clique. It was as if she were trying to forcefully add a puzzle piece to an already complete puzzle, which is why she stopped forcing it. She wouldn’t want to sit there awkwardly during tea, unsure what to say as they spoke so confidently and loudly. It felt as if she were an imposter, someone trying to disguise themselves to blend in. It was why she worked in a small separate room, away from everyone else. That, and because she was the fastest tailor there. Part of her wondered if Ma Dalena was beginning to dislike her since she turned down invitation after invitation. But how was she to explain what she was feeling, when it would only sound like whining? 

Drowning out her thoughts with work to occupy the space in her mind, she pressed her foot against the pedal and began sewing once more. The loud hum of the machine filled her ears as it worked against the red cloth under her fingertips. This was the way it was supposed to be. Mindlessly spending her waking hours working at a craft she didn’t excel at, but was decent enough to earn wages in. All while wondering what could’ve been, and secretly hoping that maybe soon there is something that can be–– 

“Look! Look out there! It’s Reyes’ temple!” 

“Reyes?!”

“Where? I don’t see it!” 

“There! Over the hill!” 

Now that was something you don’t see everyday. Everyone retreated back to the window, desperate to catch a glimpse, even Ma Dalena. Halting her work once again, (Y/n) too was the tiniest bit curious. 

In truth, magicians failed to interest her, not that she had an opportunity to see them much anyways. But all those in Etére knew to be cautious of two particular magic wielders: La Bruja de Bruez, the Witch of Bruez, and Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, Reyes the Thief of Hearts. The pair were like the local boogeymen, tales of their horrendous deeds spreading and becoming bedtime stories for children in order to scare them into good behavior. 

Ever since her youth, she heard stories of La Bruja de Bruez. It was said that she was a wicked woman who’s lived for over a hundred years. A slight against her is taken seriously, and she curses those she comes across. But she was no mere fairytale. The witch has been a thorn in the country’s side for a long time, as she terrorizes the towns she visits. There hasn’t been much action taken against her, because she’s so powerful that hardly anyone stands a chance and she’s so elusive. Besides, the royal family don’t particularly care if the witch curses a random citizen every month or so, as long as they don’t have to risk pawns in their own arsenal of magicians just to take her down. 

Only a few years ago, a second magician with fearsome spells and a horrible reputation, appeared. Reyes Ladrón de Corazones, or more commonly known as Reyes, was another brujo many feared, although not as much as his counterpart from Bruez. There were rumors, yes, but they were more lighthearted with little evidence to ever back up the claims. While the Bruja de Bruez spared no one, it was said that Reyes chose to pursue only young beautiful women. If you asked around town, half of the population would consider him a threat, while the other half would giggle and whisper about his rumored good looks. Maybe that’s how he lured them in? With charms. Either way, he was a cause for concern. It was said that at a young age after abandoning his position as apprentice under the royal sorceress, the most powerful known magician, he not only challenged her but won and stripped her of her powers. Of course, no one can neither confirm nor deny it, as the king kept a tight lid on the situation and supposedly those who approach Reyes meet a terrible fate. But his abode was proof enough of his sheer strength. It was like a castle, a temple wandering on mechanical legs, rumored to not only be fueled by magic but also made of it.

Through the mist and low hanging clouds, just over the rolling hills on the horizon she could make out the distinct shape of a temple. A magnificent temple that appears so small from so far away. But she knew that it was a beast, a titan wandering the wilderness where very few dared to venture. It prowled around on its mechanical legs, spewing black smoke as the only trail it left behind. Reyes’ moving temple disappeared behind the clouds, seemingly vanishing from sight. Onlookers within the tailor shop could only awe and wonder aloud what the brujo was like, what was true and what was not, their minds creating horrible fears and outlandish fantasies that would take root as rumors. 

Lowering her gaze back to her work, she resumed once more, but the rumors overpowered the hum of her machine until their words reached her. The other tailors proceeded back to the front entrance, marveling about what they just witnessed. Was he hiding from soldiers practicing their flights just outside the town? Did you hear that he literally steals the hearts of women, but only beautiful ones? Someone said that a pretty waitress on the other side of town had her own heart torn out and stolen by Reyes just last week! 

The door was shut and she was alone, left with her work and the noise outside. Swiftly she worked, able to repair tears and wears with ease and create other things. Able to get lost in the work for much longer, until she felt the ground shake and the screech of another whistle. The afternoon train. It’s smoke covering her window once again. It was getting late already. Not wishing to waste the rest of the day by continuing work or go to bed with a book she had already read twice, she switched off the machine and organized all the tools back into their places. Brushing off all stray strings from her dress, she then rearranged her completed work thus far and prepared to have a different kind of day. 

Today, she would try to make it a can be sort of day. Even if it meant just visiting a close friend like Lía at the bakery. Just putting out the effort to go out today was more than she was usually willing. Although wishing it would be something special, a proper can be day without even trying, was like wishing to be acknowledged by a person you admire but never once talked to, it was much like winging it on a test without studying and praying you would get a perfect score even though knowing that it’s almost near impossible. But it isn’t statistically completely impossible, so you cling to that thin shred of hope that’s as taut as a piece of string. 

The whirring of small planes buzzed overhead, the flying machines brandishing their flags like the proud and numerous soldiers. On nearly every home and business, there was the flag hanging over the door, a symbol of patriotism and support of the war effort. (Y/n) quickly crossed the streets and reached the trolley station that would take her further into town. Right now there was not a soldier in sight, but that was sure to change the closer to the center of town she got. She only prayed that there wouldn’t be any trouble with them. 

The trolleys were full, people all going towards the center of town, in the same direction the planes overhead flew towards. If she had to guess, most of the people within the trolley were likely friends or family of returning soldiers. All giddy from the victory high of a major battle just won. 

While watching the scenery go by, she wondered how Lía was fairing. 

It was because of Lía and her family that she now worked in a tailor shop. (Y/n)’s parents had met an unfortunate end while traveling outside the kingdom. They were doctors dedicated to a good cause, determined to stay in dangerous war torn lands to heal and treat the poorest of folks. While she was busy with school and often alone but checked on by family friends, her parents were saving people an ocean away in a faraway land where Milavi’s war had spread. They had been too close to Milavi claimed territory, likely mistaken for doctors healing rebels, and were thus punished for their good deeds. With no one left to turn to, her family’s closest friend, Señor Obregón, adopted (Y/n) and treated her as one of his own. 

Señor Obregón was a quiet but respectable man that spent his time either working or with his family. He was the one that taught her how to sew, knit, and tailor, after she became curious of his skills. There were two other girls, Lía and Cova, a few years younger than (Y/n), which is why she became the oldest sibling. Lía was the beauty admired all throughout their childhood and still beloved to this day. She most resembled her mother, but she wasn’t half as vain. Cova was the youngest and somehow the smartest, as she was able to quickly grasp the concepts from lessons even in (Y/n)’s class, despite being a few grade levels apart. She mostly resembled her father and his own wits. Then there was her, (Y/n), who had… whatever was left. Of course she never held any resentment toward her sisters, since they were always well behaved but perhaps a bit annoying with their squabbles. Lastly, was Señora Obregón, Rosita, who she just called Tia Rosa for short, was never rude or dismissive to her. Tia Rosa was actually very outgoing and talkative, but she was the sort of woman that wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something from last season. She desired the finer things in life and settled for no less, which is probably why Señor Obregón ended up in an early grave due to working himself to death just to try and afford the luxuries his wife craved. 

Immediately after the funeral, while they were still dressed head-to-toe in black and their eyes were puffy from crying, Rosita sat all three of her daughters for a conversation about the future. It would be impossible for her to keep them all in school, especially considering she hadn’t worked a day in her life. However, she wasn’t cruel enough to just toss her young girls out into the streets with nowhere to go. So, she devised a plan for each girl. Cova would be able to best utilize her smarts in a challenging field full of promise, which is why she was sent to a good witch in the next town over, to become an apprentice in magic. Lía was already very popular around town, she would thrive in a social environment like the bakery on main street where to this day men constantly asked for her hand. As for her, (Y/n), she would stay here in Obregón’s tailor shop, where Tia Rosa deemed was best fit. Afterall, she did know how to carry on the business, she had even helped their reputation grow substantially as more people came in every day and profits increased. Although, she hardly had the time to spend the earnings on herself, that’s what Tia Rosa was there for. Rather, never there for. She’d collect earnings from the business (Y/n) ran and would disappear for weeks or months at a time to another town or city. But that's besides the point… 

By now, the trolley she was on was near the center of town that happened to be within blocks away, the streets became crowded with people walking on foot. On roads below bridges, there were lines of military tanks rolling by. Not much further in, the sidewalks were jam packed with hundreds, upon thousands, of people. Confetti rained down, banners and flags were strung from every corner and door. Every window was occupied as citizens cheered and waved at the parade of temporary victors, a show of military strength. Soldiers in their crisp uniforms marched in unified lines, cavalry on horseback carried large flags. 

As the density of the crowds increased, and the volume of cheers and the parade along with it, she felt her heart beat louder. This was too much, it was too loud, she couldn’t even think…! But she had come this far, to go back home now when she was so close would be a little pathetic. Avoiding the commotion like a plague, she decided it best to take the maze of alleyways to calm her nerves. There were hardly any people on those backstreets, just the occasional stationed soldier. Focusing her gaze on the war propaganda posters on the brick and clay walls underneath window boxes filled with colorful flowers, she pretended to carefully study them as she increased her pace from a calm stroll to a quick speed walk, examining the items as if they were the most fascinating objects she ever saw. Really, she’d rather not make awkward eye contact with the soldiers on guard that watched her like a hawk, which is why she hurried along until they were out of sight.

Now that she was alone, with the crowds and their entertainment separated from her by walls of homes and businesses, she felt relief as the once loud sounds melted into background noise. For now she could concentrate on the address scribbled out on the folded piece of paper in her hands, and her anxiety could be replaced with confusion as she attempted to navigate these small hidden paths. This was only the second time she was on this path, since (Y/n) barely had time to ever go out due to work and her own incompetence. The first was on a holiday some weeks ago when the shop closed early, which granted her a few hours to venture on the main roads to the bakery where her friend worked. This was the second time, and she’s never taken the back roads, which was why she couldn’t tell left from right here. 

Just in time, she looked up from her note to stop her feet from moving, as she came face-to-face with an obstacle. It wasn’t another dead end, this obstacle wore clothing and golden pins, and had a head that could easily look down from his height and see the top of her hat. Immediately she stiffened up and took a step back, hesitantly forcing her eyes to look up at the smiling soldier that casually leaned against the wall. 

The young man only appeared amused as she jumped a step back in surprise. (Y/n) noticed that delighted sparkle in his eyes, as if her skittish self and startled reaction was his entertainment for the afternoon. Before she could open her mouth to mutter an apology and force her head down to continue ahead, the man leaned just a few inches closer to get a better look at her face hidden by the rim of her colorfully embroidered sun hat. “Huh, just like a mouse. Are you lost?” 

A mouse… A skittish field mouse. Would that then make him a rat or a predator? Holding her tongue so not as to speak her mind, she merely shook her head. Offending a soldier would not be good. Not that she had the confidence to say the quick comeback that came to mind anyways. “No… I’m not lost.” That was a lie. 

The young soldier persisted, refusing to move off the path as he continued to block her way. “You look lost. Say, what do you say to an invitation to tea? Afterwards, we can go over directions and escort you to where you’re heading.” Even his partner in patrol, an older gentleman, also a soldier but likely more experienced by at least a few years, moved from his post and approached in curiosity. 

As the second man stepped closer, she could distinctly hear his polished shoes tapping in a steady rhythm as he stood beside his friend. Her own heart rate easily outpaced his steps, and it wasn’t increasing due to excitement, it was due to growing unease. Yes, she knew rationally that these soldiers likely meant no harm and merely wanted to flirt, but her mind could only conjure up the worst possible scenarios as she reminded herself that they outnumbered her, they were stronger, and they had their long firearms strapped to their backs. Keeping her head down, she replied, “Thank you, but no. I’m supposed to be meeting up with someone.” 

Just like the first did, the second soldier bent down a bit to peer at her features. Just like his accomplice, he wore an amused smile as he shook his head and remarked. “A mouse? That’s not very nice. Don’t worry, you’re much better than a simple little mouse.” 

Rolling his eyes, the younger soldier only continued, “If you’re old enough to drink, we can go to a bar if that’s more your style? Do you live around here?” 

This was getting ridiculous. Did they never learn to accept rejection? No means no, even children could comprehend that. But for now, she was at their mercy, no one would come to help her here. It would be up to them to decide she was no use for any fun and let her go, or continue to persist for their selfish desires. “No. Please let me pass.” 

Barely phased by her firm reply, the younger of the two turned to his partner and scoffed, “See? I told you the girls don’t like the beard you’re growing out. It scares them.” 

It’s as if her plea went through one ear and out the other, not swaying them in even the slightest bit. The older gentleman merely rubbed the stubble on his chin, “It makes me look better. Besides, I’m sure she doesn’t mind. She might even prefer a man with facial hair.” Actually, the word gentleman did not describe him well. 

In that moment she was wondering, would she truly risk it all just to snap back in reply? It must’ve felt so satisfying, but was it necessary? Later, would she come to regret her decision or revel in it? Would she seriously use this sprouting frustration, minimal not only compared to her current fears but also in the grand scheme of things, to temporarily push past her anxiety and say something…? Probably not. As annoying as these men were, like the constant buzz of a pestersome fly, they hadn’t caused any harm except to waste a bit of her precious free time. 

“Ah, there you are, mi corazón. I was worried about you.” A smooth and silky voice interrupted.

[diamantdog]

Sorry, but I'm gonna need "The Acolyte" fans to stop feeling defeated at Manny's post. Like, it may not mean anything negative? I mean, his single ❤️ emoji? That's his thing! Just go through his past IG posts and you will know that he has the tendency to use emojis (without any words) as captions, especially the ❤️ emoji, which he also used under the photos of him and his wife, Dianne. So, why does ❤️ suddenly mean it's over?

And even though he does mean that, why should we give up too? I know a lot of people have deleted Twitter, but we are still fighting there! Just want to let you know what's been happening:

The hashtags #RenewTheAcolyte and #SaveTheAcolyte have been trending for 4-5 days!

After the whole thing about the missing merchandise from the official Disney store, they have decided to restock! If anything, this is proof that they're watching!

Some big publications have written articles basically asking Disney & LucasFilm, "WTF ARE YOU DOING?" Please give them a click and share! Mashable: 'The Acolyte's cancellation is a huge mistake for Star Wars Empire: The Acolyte Deserved A Season 2 – And Star Wars Will Be Poorer Without It IndieWire: ‘The Acolyte’ Tried Something New. Its Cancellation Doesn’t Bode Well for the Future of ‘Star Wars' BuzzFeed: The Current TV Show Cancellation Model Is Broken — Here's Why It Desperately Needs To Be Fixed (also features "My Lady Jane")

The petition has gained 16k signatures (so far) in just 3 days! AND DID YOU KNOW?

SW incels & toxic fanboys have been trying to lower morale by saying this petition won't matter, but the truth is, they are SO AFRAID, that they made a counter petition! They created it because they wanted to show Acolyte's fans that there are more of them. But guess what? They have only gotten less than 1500 signs. (I won't put the link here. It's somewhere in the cesspool that is Twitter).

So, yeah. Please don't get easily disheartened <333 Rebellion is built on hope, etc. And once again, here's the link to the petition.

[cator99]

Wedding: part 1. Introductions

I dont even know where to start. We pull up and grandma's taking a break from her oxygen tube to have a cigarette inside. The bride's toddler-aged niece and nephew are running around screaming and trying to get my attention since half of the attendees are antisocial "ew crotch goblins" type autists. A woman I was acquainted with years ago who has since "transitioned", writes yaoi webcomics, and inexplicably (or, rather, predictably I suppose) goes by a japanese name, is sitting on the couch wearing a bright pink lolita coord– she makes awkward and anxious conversation with me which I enjoy nonetheless as a result of having memories of strong admiration for her from 15 years ago. She's quite a bit older than me, and I remember seeing her at the library as a tween and thinking she looked like the coolest person I'd seen in my town, thought maybe she was a lesbian too, and wanted so badly to know who she was that I snuck a look at the computer sign-in sheet just so I could try and guess which name might reasonably belong to her, and repeated the name to myself all the way home, imagining walking up to her and introducing myself one day and what I might do to try and get her to think I'm "cool". Nowadays she mostly seems stuck in a vicious cycle— posting an eyesore-pastel yaoi drawing on instagram that she clearly put a lot of work into, complaining repeatedly that it's not getting any engagement, asking people to like and comment, before finally sharing that she's deleting everything and going on hiatus because she's depressed that her art isnt getting anywhere, only to resurface in a month, rinse and repeat. Beside her is a barefoot 6 foot 2 woman who shakes my hand vigorously for a solid 20 seconds with a grip that cuts off my circulation. And beside her is a relatively normal looking man who appears to be in his 40s and makes normal– even intelligent– conversation with me. I wonder what he's doing there– and if he just got roped into it like me. I notice his pokemon belt and think okay so he's a dweeb but he still comes across as well-adjusted— wtf is the story here? I introduce myself to the grandparents, whose trailer the wedding is being hosted in, and they immediately take a liking to me since I'm such a strapping young lad to the extent that they dont even realize that I'm the one who my mother has referred to as her Daughter multiple times, and continue calling me "he" and asking about my trades aspirations etc (this particular type of enthusiasm towards your career is an interaction you unlock when people think you're a Normie Male– something I've learned very recently)... The bride's mother is already in tears– Finally, She's Not My Problem! Thank You God!!– as she holds in her hands a contract for the American bride to sign agreeing to mom's "No Returns" policy.

[just-antithings]

This happened a long time ago but I'm still bitter about it so I wrote this

In the peak of covid I started writing fanfic it was really cringe worthy self-indulgent oc×character 10k fic on ao3 that got like 10 kudos but it was my baby Anyways everything was going well until some anti read it and decided to criticize my work , and wow were they creative there "criticism" was absolutely something

1- the anti took issue with my oc being a black masculine woman saying that I was potraying racist stereotypes of black woman

*I am a masculine black woman btw I guess my existence it now a bad stereotype now*

2- oc's father the abuser showed signs of schizophrenia so I was demonizing people with mental illness

*this character was inspired by my abusive father , funny enough my dad wasn't diagnosed yet when I made the fic so I guess this random anti successfully diagnosed my dad before he even went to a therapist

3 I was fetishazing lesbian relationships

*to this day I don't know what the anti ment by that it wasn't even smut the oc and the character only kissed once and I'm a fucking lesbian*

After that they found my tumblr made a callout post and let my inbox be flooded by death threats by other antis until I deleted the fic I lived a whole year thinking the police will knock on my door because I dared to write a fanfic (wich it funny now but terrifying for a 15 year old)

*My biggest problem with the whole thing is the Anti was fucking straight white girl in her 20s like wtf*

that's why I take issue whenever when an anti cries racism about fanfiction , I don't trust them to know the difference between racism and not liking a specific charictistic (or they know just but know people will be more likely to send threats to someone if they used racism as a shield)

Like moments ago I stumbled apon a post calling z fandom racist for making a black character top because that inforces bad stereotypes of black men being aggressive to then stumble apon another post calling fandom y racist for making the black character bottom because black people shouldn't submit to white men (like wtf)

.

[bomberqueen17]

looks like i picked the wrong week to quit amphetamines

no no that's a quote from the movie airplane. i tried amphetamines, by prescription, and i know i didn't find them particularly helpful, but i don't remember why. i've spent the last couple of weeks aggressively checked out of reality almost completely lost in my attempts to write a novel about solarpunk tall ships and the hot bisexuals who sail them, and that has been hella fun (i should share a snippet sometime. i will.) but it also means my car is still overdue for inspection and i need to figure out how to pay my physical therapy bill and i have several other urgent tasks piled up plus i still have an enormous quantity of luggage and things i removed from my cabin to winterize it piled in my house's entryway etc. so.

so anyway i've resumed amphetamines, since i had a two-week supply and only took one of them. and we'll see how that goes.

(yeah other friends of mine who've gotten diagnoses have had doctors insist on them monitoring their like, cardiac health or blood pressure with these, and it is slightly surprising to me that nobody has asked me about those things, but on the other hand, i seem to have been fine, so i guess this is ok. i found this guy through my insurance company so this isn't like. well. i don't know. it's the finest supervision i can get through my shitty insurance i guess.)

anyway. tall ships bisexuals is actually going pretty well but extremely disorganizedly. i need to get that under some kind of control.

i bought a stand mixer but haven't gotten it yet.

I also just forgot what i was going to write here, so this is going really well, score another one for the vyvanse. yes yes i'm keeping a comprehensive journal.

wow no really i don't remember where i was going with this. heck! welp. oh yeah no, i've been queueing enormous numbers of political posts and then going back and deleting them as unhelpful, so you're welcome. facebook memories helpfully showed me my post from eight years ago on this topic and mostly i'm like oh wow i was on facebook eight years ago? but if i look, mostly i was not. lol i signed up for facebook almost twenty years ago and decided it was Not For Me almost fifteen years ago and it still sends me twenty emails a day about my friends it's holding hostage, this is kind of amazing. anyway.

well i've been sitting here trying to lure my agitated cat to sit down and kick me out of the recliner, and after literally half an hour it has finally worked. so, off i go to drink like three gallons of water because that is the one thing i remember about being on meth that was really really important. you think "ah i need some more water" and you pour yourself a cup of it and it's gone and you're like "where did that go" so you drink three more cups and then you're like "wow i'm thirsty did i forget to drink water" and you wind up drinking incredible amounts of water and never peeing so. anyway that's a lot easier now that it's winter and i'm living someplace with running water, so. thumbs up.

woof i took a multivitamin and a fish oil capsule at the same time and i can taste that fish oil capsule, well done me =_=

[gojo-enthusiast]

Suguru Geto ~ Bad Day, Don’t Fuckin Speak

*Bad Day at work* MDI, 18+ Only! Suguru usually being loving when you two have sex, has an exceptionally challenging day, as he finds out Satoru deleted all of the contract agreements for an account Suguru was supposed to have signed today.

Psa: rough sex, degrading, calling names, P in V, unprotected sex, blowjob, biting, pinching, ass slapping. Fluff at the end okay okay

Word Count: <1750+

No proofread! Like, reblog! Follow me on X (Twitter) 🫶🏻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suguru was always loving when it came to sex. He was always gentle, and patient. Knowing it always took you a little bit longer to adjust, especially to his size. Suguru the very loving husband of yours, always listening to you about your day, and cuddling up to you on the couch. Watching some tv show he would never pick for himself. But he knows how much you like it, so he didn’t really care.

You had texted him asking him what he wanted for dinner, not getting a response. Suguru was always good about responding, you had even seen that he read it, so why didn’t he respond? You just figured maybe he was just a little busy. Well a little busy was an understatement, he was extremely, ungodly busy. Satoru his co-founder of a company they built together. Sponsoring new celebrities in campaigns, and dealing with marketing, publicity, things like that. Satoru had by accident trashed the contract for a new model they were signing on, TODAY! Satoru didn’t realize the papers he deleted from his computer, had been the PDF that Suguru sent to Satoru. Of course Suguru could have simply printed it again, but they were in front of the new model as Satoru realized not only did he shred the physical copy, thinking it was the draft, but he deleted the PDF. Suguru had to pretty it up, saying they have been having some unfortunate technical difficulties, as Satoru’s laptop had crashed. And they were waiting on his new one to arrive. Making some bogus excuse that everything was done through Satoru computer. Rescheduling the visit for the following day.

“What the fuck Satoru!” Suguru yells, “You had one fucking job!” Suguru hisses, “man it’s okay, they’ll come tomorrow.” Satoru says, sipping his iced caramel frappe. Suguru knocks it out of his hand, making Satoru finally stand up mad. “HEY! THAT WAS LIKE $7!” Satoru exclaims, “YEAH AND THAT CONTRACT DEAL WAS $3M THAT WE CAN POSSIBLY LOSE BECAUSE OF YOUR INCOMPETENCE! You realize they are modeling for the top designer brand in 2 weeks, if he doesn’t sign that deal, WE GET NOTHING!” Suguru yells.

Moral of the story, Suguru was fucking fuming still. He walks in the door, and you hear him. Perking up, excited to see your lovely husband. You made his favorite food, Zaru soba! “Hey baby!” You say smiling, going up to him for a kiss, he brushes past you, causing a frown on your face. You aren’t used to him being upset, quite frankly you had never seen Geto this mad.

You’ve seen him frustrated but never to the point where he brushed past you. “Hey, Suguru. What’s wrong?” You say walking up to him, as he’s walking down the hall to your shared bedroom. No response. “Suguru.” You say again, getting worried. “Suguru Geto!” You shout. You weren’t one to shout, but he was just not listening. He turns around, and gets close to your face, you can see his face is red as a tomato, and he looks like he’s about to burst.

“Quit fucking calling my name. Can’t you see I want to be left the fuck alone.” He says through gritted teeth. You didn’t know what to say, your eyes start swelling up in tears. Your husband had never spoken to you that way. He turns away, walking into the bedroom, walking into the bathroom slamming the door.

You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling that lump in your throat. He finally gets out the shower, You hear him on the phone, with who you’re guessing is Satoru.

“Quit fucking calling me. You’re the last person I want to speak to. You fucked up my whole day, now I have my wife crying because I’m so angry at you!” He yells, “Oh fuck you Satoru. Suck my cock!” Suguru yells before you hear silence. You’re guessing he hung up. He opens the bathroom door, and the light from the bathroom door is showing Suguru the tears down your cheek. “Su-Suguru.” You whimper, “Y/N, no.” He puts his hand up gesturing he doesn’t want to hear anything. “I want silence. I don’t want to hear anything but my cock in your mouth, and your pussy. Do you understand?” He hisses, walking up to you, gripping your hair to have you look up at him. “Do you understand?” He repeats, you nod. Tears streaming down your face, you had never seen this side of him, so you didn’t know if you should feel horny or scared. Honestly you were a mix of both, feeling your nipples harden.

Suguru takes his towel off, exposing his hard member. Bringing your face down, tapping his swollen tip on your lips, his way of telling you to open the fuck up. You open your mouth, taking in his swollen cock, feeling his hands lace behind your head, into your hair. Throwing his head back, feeling a relief already. “Fuck yes.” He moans, “deeper.” He pushes himself deeper into your mouth, feeling his cock in your throat. Your gagging, drool coming out of your mouth, and tears streaming down. “Suck, you slut.” He hisses, as much as this should be hurting your feelings right now, you were so wet from this. You had always wanted Suguru to sometimes turn off that sweet loving husband, and just fuck you like a whore. You start to squeeze your thighs together, feeling yourself get wet. “Spread your legs.” He demands, watching you spread your legs. “Touch yourself.” He adds. You reach down, pulling your panties to the side, feeling your juices instantly touch your fingers, you start to rub your clit, moaning on his cock, as he thrust it in and out of your mouth. “give me your fingers, the one in your cunt.” He demands, you take them out, lifting your hand up to him, he leans down, still have your face pushed against his cock, he sucks your fingers. “You dirty fucking whore. Wet from sucking my cock. Is this what you want? For your pretty little mouth to get fucked?” He groans, face-fucking you. “Answer me!” He hisses, you nod, as you still have his cock shoved down your throat, feeling yourself about to pass out from the lack of oxygen. Finally he cums, you feeling it going down your throat, he pulls out. And you’re coughing, catching your breath. “Are you fucking crying still?” He asks, you nod no, wiping your tears.

Next thing you knew, he had your panties across the room and your shirt was somewhere. He was biting you all over, leaving love bites all over. Not caring if someone will see it. “Suguru-“ you moan out, “what did I fucking say!?” He slams his fist on the bed, your head right next to where he just slammed, “what did I say!?” He questions angrily, “y-you s-said th-that you-you did-didn’t want to hear-he-hear me sp-speak.” You stutter, “Don’t make me tell you again, do you understand?” He hisses in your ear. You nod.

“Turn over.” He demands, you were taking to long, he flipped you over himself, arching your back for you, putting you in the position he wanted, he wanted to fuck you from behind. you didn’t mind this position, but you loved to see his face, and he loved to watch you cum. But today, he didn’t want to look at you, he wanted to look at your pussy pull him in, and cum around him. He slapped your ass, as your knees got weak, “keep your back arched.” He demands, “yes sir.” You say. You weren’t supposed to speak, but the yes sir was allowed after he heard it. “I’m going to let that one slide, since you sounded so fucking sexy saying that.” He whispers in your ear. You had to control your moan, as you felt him sink into you, he was kissing your g-spot so perfectly. He starts thrusting, not even giving you time to adjust, he leans forward, fondling your titties, pinching your nipple. Causing a yelp come out of your mouth, he leans back, back straight, he slaps your ass hard. “Shut the fuck up.” He says sternly.

You are in pure bliss right now. You are loving every minute of this. Loving every minute of being fucked so stupid. He is thrusting faster and faster, slamming into you, with no remorse. He puts his hand on your clit, and starts to rub it fast, wanting you to experience a high level orgasm as well. Because no matter how angry he is, he would never let you go without being satisfied. He loves you to much to do that to you. At this point you forget the whole no sound rule, you are moaning out, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming” you moan, “fuck. Yes. Cum around this cock.” He grits his teeth. Finally releasing his seed into you. And you cum around his cock. He’s slowing down his pace, he pulls out, flipping you on your back. Inserting his cock back in, rocking his hips back and forth again. Feeling you twitch and hug his cock so perfectly, causing a second orgasm to erupt from you, and a third for him. He watches your face as you cum around his cock, his favorite sight. “You look so beautiful when you cum baby.” He kisses your lips, you kissing him back. “Sugu.” You moan, latching your arms around his neck. “I’m sorry baby, was I too rough?” He asks, kissing your cheek. “Yeah but it felt goood, it’s okay Sugu.” You say kissing him back. “Just, don’t ever ignore my kisses again.” You pout. “I’m sorry baby, I had a terrible day. I needed to fuck out the steam. I should have been gentle.” He says caressing your neck, rubbing the parts he left marks on. “It’s okay baby, I liked it.” You say running your fingers through his hair. “Oh did you?” He smirks, feeling his cock harden up again. All of a sudden he grabs his phone and takes a video of his cock entering into your cunt, and sends it to Satoru saying, “Someone was a victim to your incompetence today. Handle the account tomorrow, I won’t be coming in.” He presses send and throws his phone to the other side of the bed, “I’m gonna fuck you all night princess.” Suguru smirks.

Suguru surely didn’t show up to work, and Satoru did exactly what Suguru told him to. Fearing that when Suguru comes in, he might just beat his ass.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Ahh I can't wait for Avatar 3! I know it probably won't happen but I would like to see Spider join the ranks of Ash's na'vi either through re-kidnapping or willingly as some kind of inside spy or ambassador for the good guys (kind of like Clarke from the 100 if you know this show). And while I'm not a fan of the idea of ​​Quaricth being romantically involved with Varang I think it would be funny to see her and Spider together since she would basically become his stepmother

I loved the idea of ash clan Spider and was having so much fun with the ideas you listed until the theories based off the D23 pic started being talked about. My friend @cyren-myadd has some great thoughts on everything and I’m also a big fan of Avatar Theory on YouTube. I was watching his break down of the Ash Clan last night and he noted that the other Na’vi in the picture with Varang don’t seem to have kurus hinting that they might cut them off and give them to Varang as a sign of loyalty. If that actually happens then that is so insane to me. This isn’t just a tribe of out casts, it’s a cult.

In the original Avatar there’s actually a deleted scene of Tsu’tey, who survives his fall, though is still very injured. He’s found by Wainfleet who says that he heard having their kurus cut off is worse then death for a Na’vi and then proceeds to cut off Tsu’tey’s. When Tsu’tey is found he makes Jake the next leader and then begs him for death which Jake gives him. I think knowing all that is what makes the idea of Na’vi willing cutting off their kurus so off putting to me. It’s not only severing their connection to Eywa, but to every loved one they could connect with, every creature they could bond with. And it’s all for Varang. That is beyond scary for me and so I don’t want my boy anywhere near that crazy cult although I know he will be.

I’m pretty certain from the set leaks we’ve gotten that at least Spider and Jake will be captured by Quaritch. So yeah Spider will definitely meet the ash clan through re-kidnapping. But I don’t think he’ll stay with them for long. The ash clan is obviously working with the R.D.A.

 We see in this image that the background ash clan are all heavily armed. They’d only get that kind of firepower from the R.D.A. My guess is that Varang wants to be all powerful and spread her cult to all the tribes. She probably doesn’t care about the great balance if her followers cut off their kurus and so she makes a deal. For their firepower Varang will let the R.D.A strip Pandora for resources.

From script and art leaks we know that a miracle will take place where Spider will be able to breath Pandoran air and possibly from the art leak have a kuru of his own.

This image has been kicking around for a while now and you can see Spider has a braid like a kuru but I’m thinking that might actually be his kuru. Now hear me out because my evidence is very tenuous for this but you see how Spider’s hair is significantly darker at the roots. Like their Jack Champions real hair color. Could just be attention to detail since some blonds do change to brunettes as the age or it could be because we’re going to lose the wig I.e all our angst fics come true and we actually do see Spider get his dreads cut off.

(Which even though I’ve written that scenario a few times I legitimately don’t want to see it happen just because I don’t want to see our boy in anymore pain)

And the only way I really see that happening is if he’s captured (like we know he will be) and experimented on by the R.D.A. They’d most definitely want to see how his kuru attaches to his brain and you can’t perform brain surgery on a patient with a full head of hair. Quaritch wouldn’t be able to just stand by and let this happen though. He cares about his son for sure but also he’s indebted to Spider for saving his life. I can see a moment mirroring the one on the rocks where Spider left Quaritch after saving him, though this time it’s Spider who was saved. Spider would be seeing his dad’s potential for change and want him to come with him but Quaritch refuses this time. He’s all out of sorts because he’s seen how crazy Varang is and has no desire to return to the ash clan but he also can’t go back to the R.D.A now that he’s betrayed them. So he just says “now we’re even,” hops onto Cupcake and flies away leaving Spider to return to Jake.

Those are all just theories though. I’m just as excited as you for Fire and Ash! Everything from D23 had me pricing out how much a weekend trip to Animal Kingdom would cost me just so I could go to the world of Pandora there. I think I’ll cry happy tears the day I finally have enough money to go and bask in the world I love so much.

Thank you so much for reaching out! 💞��

[unreliablesnake]

Animals - part 4 (Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader)

Summary: You turn to the Military Police to get help against Simon, but this move only enrages him. Things take a tragic turn after his visit.

Note: I didn’t like writing this at all. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

Warnings: afab!reader, toxic!Simon, dark!Simon, r*pe, character death. If you’re triggered by any of this or you’re a minor, DON’T READ IT!!!

“What the fuck were you thinking, Simon?” Price yelled when the lieutenant closed the front door behind him. “Attempted rape? Harassment? Stalking? Were you even using your brain when you did these things?”

Ghost let out a groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the back of the couch. “She told you, I guess.” The captain nodded. “That’s her side of the story, I hope you don’t believe everything she came up with.”

“I talked to the staff of the inn where she and Soap hid from you, and the receptionist confirmed that you were there, making a scene by insisting on them still being in the building. This also means you really did track her phone.”

“I just… I didn’t want her to do anything stupid, like jumping into a relationship with Soap because she’s a little confused about her feelings for me.”

“She doesn’t love you,” Price pointed out as he watched the other man. “She’s terrified of you.”

The lieutenant tilted his head to the side and gave him a disappointed look. “Come on, John, don’t buy that crap. We aren’t on the best of terms at work, I admit that, but she wouldn’t have slept with me if she didn’t feel anything about me.”

“She did what?”

“See? I thought she would miss that little part out,” he noted dryly. “She didn’t complain about that to me.” And he was right, he knew that, mostly because you were such a good little girl for him, doing everything he said. When he left, you were sleeping peacefully in your bed, looking everything but upset.

“It only happened once?” Ghost nodded. “Look, okay, you had her consent one time, but what about the last mission? I heard what you did, and she definitely didn’t consent at that time.”

He rolled his eyes at this. “Nothing happened.”

“Because Soap arrived to tell you that I wanted to see you,” Price pointed out.

“You think I’m lying?” he asked, offended by even the idea of it. “We were just talking. Okay, maybe I kissed her, but she returned it,” he added.

“That’s not what she said.”

Ghost let out a frustrated huff as he stood straight and gave his superior an expectant look. “Fucking hell, John, this conversation is going nowhere. Do they have any evidence against me?” he asked, genuinely interested.

But Price only shook his head at this with arms folded over his chest defensively. “It’s not my job to know what they do or don’t have against you. And even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you,” he added with a pointed look.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to hear what you had to say about this issue.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, she’s just making shit up because she hates to admit that she wants me as well,” Ghost explained. “Are you happy? Are we done?”

“We’re done.”

Once Price left, his mind immediately turned to the possible evidence that could be in his home, starting with the drive with those precious photos and videos of you. He hated the idea of getting rid of it, but there was no other choice. He also had to reset his phone, deleting every sign of the tracking app he used to keep an eye on you.

••••••••

You looked at Soap when you let Price into the building, tense from all of the possibilities of how his conversation with Ghost went. You knew he was good at convincing people, what if he could make Price take his side in this?

The moment he entered the apartment, Soap folded his arms over his chest and asked, “So? How did it go?”

Price let out a sigh as he took off his jacket and placed it on the back of a chair. He looked tired and at least ten years older now. Whatever had happened, it certainly took its toll on him. “He denied everything. For some reason he’s convinced that you’re only confused about your feelings, but deep down you know you should be together,” he explained.

When he saw your reaction out of the corner of his eye, Soap put a hand around your shoulder and pulled you against his chest. “He’s delusional,” he noted.

Nodding, Price sat on the couch and rested his fists on his thighs as he watched you. “This is definitely not the Simon Riley I used to know.”

“Maybe he just needs professional help,” you suggested, surprising even yourself with your sudden wave of kindness and understanding. “Maybe I shouldn’t go through with the plan.”

“Hey, don’t say that. After everything you went through, he has to be punished,” Soap told you.

“You’re right, Soap, but don’t forget that she will have to testify against him,” Price pointed out. “She has to be ready for that. She has to be ready to face him.”

You didn’t want to see him ever again. He was mad at you, why wouldn’t he be, and if he knew your new number, and if you hadn’t deleted all of your social media accounts, he would definitely keep harassing you. You were surprised he hadn’t shown up at your door yet, ready to get revenge for you turning to the Military Police with this.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Soap was tense, probably already disappointed that you were hesitating. He had been by your side from the moment you had asked for his help, and you knew he would stay until the very end. He would support you while the trial lasted, giving you the strength to face Ghost.

“I hope if we go on our next mission, he won’t be there,” you said quietly, glancing over at Price from under your eyelashes.

The captain shook his head. “Of course I won’t let him near the team. But you’re staying here as well.”

“What? No, that’s the only place where I would feel safe,” you told him on the verge of a panic attack. “You can’t do this to me, you can’t expect me to stay here alone when he’s in the same city as me.”

“But you’re under way too much stress, you couldn’t focus on your job properly. The last thing I need is you or anyone else getting hurt because of a mistake,” came the reply.

He was right. You didn’t want to admit it, but Price had every right to feel this way about your return. But you couldn’t get yourself to say it out loud, and instead it was Soap who spoke up. “He’s right,” he said quietly, giving you a sympathetic look. “And I don’t think Ghost would sabotage himself by coming here when he’s under investigation.”

Price nodded and you let out a sigh. “All right.”

In the next week or so Soap remained by your side, but then he had to leave and you were left alone. It was hard to be in the apartment on your own, constantly terrified of the idea of Ghost showing up. Because he was insane, it was quite clear, and who knew how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted.

You barely left your apartment, grocery shopping was usually done online so you could stay at home, and when your neighbors knocked on your door to ask you about that man who had had so many questions about your whereabouts, you simply ignored them.

Soap regularly sent you messages to find out how you were, and even Price and Gaz sent you supportive texts every now and then. Knowing there were people out there who cared about your wellbeing made you feel better, and days passed faster thanks to them.

But before they could return from deployment, you were awakened by a loud banging on your door. You got up from the couch and took a few hesitant steps in that direction, carefully listening as if you couldn’t already guess it was him.

“Open the fucking door,” he growled, his angry tone making you gulp.

This was exactly what you had been afraid of, him showing up to get revenge for everything that had been happening lately. Shaking your head to snap out of it, you ran to the coffee table for your phone and immediately dialed Soap’s number. He didn’t answer, and your call went to voicemail in the end.

“Soap, it’s me. Ghost is here. I–I don’t think he knows I’m at home so he might go away, but if I don’t send you a message that I’m okay, call the police please.”

You weren’t lying, he didn’t know you were there. The television was off, you weren’t listening to music, there was absolutely nothing that could have given away that you were at home. As far as you knew, even your neighbors were at work, so it wasn’t possible that he had begun this visit by asking around.

Then you heard a clicking sound and the door began to open up, revealing the lieutenant’s giant frame. “H–How do you have a key?” you asked weakly.

Ghost closed the door with a grin as he pulled down the mask he wore over the bottom half of his face. “I found it when I was last inside this place.”

It must have been your spare key from the drawer of your desk. He had been alone in your apartment after the one and only time you had sex, after all he sneaked out while you were asleep. Fuck. “Leave or I’ll call the police,” you hissed.

“You can’t really think I’ll just leave you here. After all the shit you’ve put me through lately.”

“The shit I put you through? Ghost, you’ve been harassing me for a long time now, you have to face the consequences!”

Ghost bit on his lower lip as he watched you, his eyes darker all of a sudden. Every single cell in your body was screaming at you to make you run, but when you wanted to obey your instincts, your body gave in. You were frozen by fear and there was nothing you could do about it.

It should be easy, you could do it. You just had to run past him and you would be at the door in a second or two. After taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you began to run, hoping this would take him off guard.

But he was expecting this because he simply held out his arm and caught you by your waist. “Where are you running, sweetheart? I’m not done yet,” he whispered menacingly as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a zip tie.

Whispering weak pleads to get him to stop, to let you go, you soon realized that Ghost was not about to give up. He tied your wrists behind your back, and when you began to cry louder, begging him to think it through before doing anything, he pulled out a ball gag and put it on you.

He was prepared. What was happening now was all part of his plan. He didn’t come here to talk, he didn’t want to set things straight. No. He wanted to punish you, it was that simple. For a while he was only watching you, probably enjoying the sight of you being tied up and gagged.

After he was done admiring you, Ghost put a hand on your waist and began to push you towards the bedroom. Panic quickly filled your mind, knowing full well from the look in his eyes what was about to come. How could he be this crazy? Whatever had happened to him that made him snap like that?

Ghost suddenly pulled out a knife and began to cut up the front of your shirt with it. You didn’t feel safe at all. What could’ve been exciting and even sexy in the company of someone you trusted felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. Tears were running down your cheeks but it didn’t seem to bother him, in fact, he looked rather proud of himself for turning you into this whimpering mess.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t look this sad. You’re gonna enjoy it, trust me,” he cooed before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

Once he removed your sweatpants and panties with one confident move, he turned you around and pushed you face-first into the mattress. He then began to move your body as if you were some doll he could fold however he wanted, making sure your ass was up in the air for him. You could feel his warm breath on your cunt, and it sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t want this, you wished the police would arrive and help you, but something told you help wasn’t coming. You were on your own, tied, and gagged, and at the mercy of this man. When he let his tongue disappear between your folds, you began to cry even harder, your body squirming to get him to stop.

But he didn’t care, he just slapped your ass so hard you knew it would leave a red mark behind. “Stay still, love, it would be better for the both of us if you just calmed down. Try to relax. You’ll enjoy this, trust me,” he said, repeating his previous words.

Without a warning he pushed two fingers inside of you, furiously pumping as he tried to chase you to an orgasm, his other hand rubbing your clit to make the process even faster. Then another finger joined the first two, stretching you even further, and you could feel the heat pooling in your belly despite your brain trying to stop your body from reacting like this.

“That’s it baby, I can feel that you’re close,” he growled before placing a kiss on your thigh. “Come on, cum on my fingers, let me taste you again.”

And you did, you came on his hand like an obedient slut, your body going limp as he kept fucking you with his fingers. It felt good, and this thought made you feel disgusted. How could you like it when he was literally raping you? You didn’t consent, you didn’t even let him inside your apartment, yet here you were, naked and helpless.

You were snapped back to reality when you felt the head of his massive cock tease your entrance, dipping in a little for a moment before pulling out. “I wish I didn’t have to gag you,” he said as he put his palm on your back and pushed you down. “It was nice to listen to you while I fucked you the last time. But you’re a bad little girl, you can’t keep your mouth shut when you should.”

Suddenly you felt him slam his entire length into you, the move making your eyes roll back into your head from the pain. With a groan he tightened his grip on your hips and fucked you as if you were nothing more but a fleshlight. He was enjoying this way too much, and the guttural sounds and raspy moans leaving his throat made you feel nauseous.

He kept calling you a good little whore as one of his hands moved to your stomach and he pulled you up against his chest. “I wish I could put your hand on your belly so you could feel me move inside of you,” he whispered in your ear before biting on your shoulder.

You tried to turn off your brain, tried to ignore the way he abused you, but it was impossible to get him out of your mind. Your body had once again betrayed you, causing your cunt to tighten around his member as you were close to another orgasm. He kept talking to you, but you didn’t listen, you had no idea what he was saying. All you could focus on was the familiar feeling in your core, pushing you close to the edge.

You came four times in total before he finally stopped, although he didn’t pull out, instead he slowly fucked his cum back into your cunt. He told you how proud he was, what a good little slut you were for him, but he didn’t say anything about letting you go. Even as he was wiping your tears away, he kept talking about the next day, about how you’ll beg him to fuck you eventually, and how it was just the two of you from now on.

“If I take this off,” he began, pointing at the ball gag, “will you be a good girl and stay quiet?” You nodded. At this point you would have promised anything to get rid of it. “All right, let’s see if you can keep your word.”

The plan was simple. You play by his rules, stay quiet, then the moment he goes to the bathroom–because at one point he has to go out–you make a run for it.

Once your mouth was free again, Ghost leaned in to kiss you, tongue soon gliding over your lower lip to get you to open up for him. You had no choice but to return the kiss, feeling like throwing up the whole time. This was disgusting and sick and twisted, but for some reason he thought it was perfectly normal.

After some time the silence of the apartment was broken by your phone’s ringtone. You told Ghost to ignore it, hoping if the caller didn’t get a response they would send help, but he was quick to go out to the living room and check who it was. It didn’t take long to find out Soap was the one calling. The lieutenant was angry, really angry, and he almost smashed your phone against the wall.

“Tell him to stop calling,” he ordered after it began to ring for the third time. “Tell him everything’s okay and that he can stop calling you. But if you dare to say anything more… I guess you already know.”

Nodding, you waited for him to accept the call, put it on speaker, and hold the device closer to you. “Soap?” you asked hoarsely.

“Finally! Is he gone?” came his eager question.

You took a deep breath then gulped. “Everything’s fine, no need to worry.”

“Is he gone? Yes or no?”

It was hard to answer this. Every cell in your body was protesting against lying to him, you wanted to tell him the truth, that Ghost was still there with you. What’s the worst that could happen if you were honest with Soap? He fucks you again? If it meant help would come, at least you would know it would end soon.

So you took a deep breath and said, “He’s still here. I need help. Call the police, please!”

“Fuck,” said both men at the same time.

While Soap was yelling at his higher up over the phone to make him come to his senses, telling him he was calling the police as you’d asked, Ghost threw the phone on the bed and wrapped his hands tightly around your neck to strangle you.

He pushed you into the bed as he choked you, hell-bent on killing you apparently. You tried to tell Soap that he should hurry up, tried to ask Ghost to stop, but no voice left your throat. You were soon losing consciousness, falling in and out of the darkness.

••••••••

He checked several times but you had no pulse. Ghost put his hands on the back of his neck and kept telling himself this wasn’t happening. He didn’t want to hurt you, this wasn’t a part of his plan.

But when you had told Soap that you needed help, he lost it. There was nothing he could have done, his emotions got the best of him.

If the sergeant called the police, they could be there any second. He picked up your phone and unlocked it to check how long it had been since that conversation. Four minutes. He still had time to get out of your apartment. Yes, that’s what he was supposed to do now.

“I’m so sorry, love,” he whispered as he placed a soft kiss on your lips. How could he be this stupid? How could he be this irresponsible? He should have expected you to misbehave, he shouldn’t have taken the ball gag off. “Fuck!” he cursed loudly.

“Hands in the air!” he suddenly heard a voice say behind him.

It was too late. How could he not hear the sirens? With a sigh, he raised his hands and slowly stood up. There was nowhere to run. But where would he go anyway? He killed you, he killed the only good thing in his life.

He was truly the monster you’d been so afraid of all along.

[tf2heritageposts]

Q AND A for our pinned post so people stop asking us these things

q. why do you use we/us? are there multiple mods?

a. no there is only one person who runs this account and it’s a person with did. we do not take quesrions. sometimes alters will post and do sign offs

q. why do you use i/me when talking about tfc heavy?

a. because i’m a cheavy fictive deal with it. look up what a fictive is yourself im tired of explaining

q. do you hate medic?

a. not even remotely, i actually love the character and the alter of him in our head quite a lot

q. you mention having a gi bill and talking with the va sometimes. are you in the military?

a. christ no. we’re a military dependent, which means we get the benifets of it without being in the military from our estranged family

q. why are you estranged from your family?

a. if you look at this blog long enough you’ll find out why

q. what’s the deal with your ex?

a. check the tag #the delilah situation and never talk to me about this, any asks will be deleted and i don’t take questions

q. i want details on x trauma

a. no

q. why do you have beef with x person? what’s the deal with you and x?

a. it most likely happened when we were 16-17 and even if it didn’t i don’t take negative questions regarding other people on this blog. i try to be positive. also, somehow this isn’t obvious i guess, don’t harass or even talk to people who you think i have beef with(i might not even know them stop assuming everything), and don’t tell me their every move. are you insane?

q. do you reaaaallly have did?

a. yes and we’re not faking and if you post us to any form of ableist cringe subreddit we will be taking legal action. find out if we’re joking

q. can you diagnose me with x?

a. we are not a medical professional and not taking psychology to become a therapist, we cannot diagnose any condition you may or may not have. we can give advice to the best of our ability but we don’t know you probably so

q. how should i use your pronouns?

a.

when referring to us as a collective, use they/it plural and call us the teufort dozen

eg:

they’re on their way to the store and they’re going to pick up wood to make themselves shelves for their apartment. the teufort dozen doesn’t care about security deposits because their rabbit already chewed up the carpet

when talking about me specifically, you can call me cheavy or tf2heritageposts and nothing else unless i’m friends with you, and use he/it NO THEY

eg:

cheavy really walks a lot, i’m surprised he doesn’t break his legs more. he really loves the bus

q. who do you main in tf2?

a. heavy and sometimes i play every other class except medic

q. this blog isn’t a heritage blog anymore

a. you’re an idiot and the queue has been going on since this blog has started. filter #not a heritage post dumbass

q. you should lose weight

a. i am actively trying to gain weight

q. what color is your hair

a. i don’t know

q. can i ask you questions specifically towards a specific alter?

a. yes you can! but please be aware that we’re not roleplaying and they can in fact get mad at you or decide not to respond to you

q. can i ask you about your source (memories)?

a. sure!

q. i am contacting you on behalf of someone else who you used to know

a. leave me alone

q. are you safe?

a. yes we’re very safe, we have many knives and we will kick a bitch

q. have you seen weird al’s albuquerque the movie

a. i watched it today for the 30th time as of writing

q. what’s your major?

a. currently getting my associates in general psych

q. are you aware you’re kind of stupid

a. yeah