#i'm just gonna keep this one to tumblr because it's pretty short
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Live Rayni Reaction
Shh I know day 2 of @tiertice-week-2023 was yesterday. Ignore that for a moment and have a short Solreef family fic. Prompt: Rings.
Summary: Rayni notices a ring on Tiergan's finger, and Tiergan and Prentice discover that their kids are missing some key pieces of information about their dads.
In a house full of rebel-trained, observant children, it’s rather hard for Tiergan to keep a secret.
(It’s also rather hard for him to stop viewing Rayni and Wylie as children—they may be twenty-four and twenty-six, respectively, but that’s still young compared to Tiergan’s long years.)
So Tiergan honestly isn’t surprised when Rayni appears in front of him, in that ghostly, near-silent way that she always somehow manages.
“Good morning, Rayni,” he greets, and she only frowns at him. “Is something wrong?”
“You have a ring,” she says, gaze trained on his left hand.
He raises an eyebrow. “I do, yes.”
“That thing“—she gestures vaguely in the air—”how long have you had that?”
“Thirty years, give or take.” So maybe he’s being intentionally vague. Whatever, it’s fun.
“No,” she says, “you didn’t have that before. I would have noticed.”
She’s right, technically. He and Prentice had taken off their rings before his arrest, and it was only yesterday—their thirty-year anniversary, coincidentally—that they had found the rings again, collecting dust in one of Prentice’s old bags.
“Tiergan?” Prentice calls, stepping into the kitchen with that stupidly sweet smile on his face. He’s wearing one of Tiergan’s old sweatshirts—where did he even get that?—and he has that knowing look in his eye that tells Tiergan that he’d definitely heard Rayni’s words.
Are you going to tell her?
Tiergan looks at Rayni, who is now offering the both of them a curious look. I don’t think we have to. She’s clever enough to have figured it out herself.
Probably. “Morning, Rayni, nice to see you up nice and early.”
“Flashers rise with the sun.” She shrugs. “Most of us, anyway.”
Definitely not all of them, since Wylie is still asleep, and probably will be for another four hours. Tiergan knows from experience that that kid could sleep through the apocalypse if he wanted to.
“What’s for breakfast?” Prentice asks, crossing the room to stand beside Tiergan. His hand brushes Tiergan’s, and he finds himself blushing like a teenager.
“Whatever you two want,” Tiergan replies. “Within reason, obviously. I’m not helping you make pie from scratch again, Rayni.”
Rayni snorts. “That was entirely Tam’s idea. He has…grand aspirations.”
“You two dyed the couch green.”
“It needed an upgrade.”
Prentice grins. “I hate to say it, love, but she’s right.”
“You’re both wrong,” Tiergan says, with a mock-scowl. (To be fair, his couch is nearly a century old. It’s not exactly fit for modern tastes.)
The kettle beeps, and Rayni moves past them to pour out her tea. As she does so, Prentice squeezes Tiergan’s hand, and the two share an affectionate smile.
“Did you sleep okay?” Tiergan asks, but what he really means is, How were the nightmares?
“...Not really,” Prentice replies, after a moment. “But I’m better now.” Better now that you’re here.
Tiergan smiles softly and presses a chaste kiss to his lover’s lips—just a small token of affection, to tell him, hey, I’m with you.
The sound of glass shattering breaks their reverie.
Prentice and Tiergan jump back from each other, their hands and guards up to protect each other from the threat.
“Holy shit,” Rayni says, her teacup firmly on the ground. “You—are you two—” “Married?” Prentice interrupts, amused. “Pretty much.” In everything but law.
She gapes at them. “Since when?”
“A while,” Prentice admits, and Rayni’s eyes widen.
“And I’m the first to know?”
After Livvy, Leto, Cyrah, and basically anyone who had to interact with them when they were teenagers. “I mean, Wylie should know.” Tiergan definitely recalls telling him.
Rayni snorts. “I can promise you that he doesn’t.”
See, Tiergan, Prentice transmits, I told you the kids didn’t know.
In my defense, I didn’t realize they were so oblivious.
Prentice grins. They’re our kids, of course they’re oblivious.
Tiergan, unfortunately, has to agree on that one. “Rayni, who did you think the ring was for?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Some woman that I’d never met, I guess.” She pauses, then squints at Prentice’s hand, where a matching silver band resides. “Okay, yeah, I should’ve noticed that.”
Prentice grins and turns to Tiergan. “We should probably go tell Wylie and Linh before Livvy accidentally mentions it and breaks their minds.” He snorts. “Stars know we don’t need any more mind breaks in this family.”
Tiergan elbows him lightly. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s kind of funny.”
Rayni chuckles in the corner, and Tiergan realizes that he’s vastly outnumbered. “Fine, fine, let’s go. At least Tam already knows, he shoved a wedding gift into my hands the other day.”
Rayni narrows her eyes. “Tam knew?”
“Well that’s sweet of him,” Prentice says, “even though he’s about thirty years too late.”
“You try telling him that,” Tiergan replies with an affectionate smile. “And, yes, he knows. Honestly, I think he knows everything that goes on in this house; it’s impossible to hide from him.”
Rayni pulls out her Imparter and scowls at it. “We’ll see about that,” she says.
Tiergan’s learned over the years that it’s better to stay out of the siblings’ mock-fights (as they tend to cause damage to household appliances, among other hazards) so he takes Prentice’s arm and leads him to the next room.
“I love our family,” Prentice says, once they’re out of earshot.
Tiergan smiles and lifts a hand up to Prentice’s cheek. “Yeah. I love us too.”
#i'm just gonna keep this one to tumblr because it's pretty short#if this doesn't make sense that's because it was mostly written in the middle of the night on my notes app#also i have no idea how to write rayni. so. whoops#stellarlune spoilers#hold on this timeline does not make sense because tiergan should be way older than 40. ummm ignore that#tiertice#tiertice week 2023
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⋆ and if we bite each other, the pain is sweet.
farmhand!sevika x farmer’s daughter!reader. men & minors dni.
synopsis: you find a woman in your barn who looks suspiciously like the fugitive who remains wanted on your town's bulletin board. but you've always a soft spot for the strong ones.
cw: age difference, older woman/younger woman, outlaw!sevika, farmhand!sevika, farmer's daughter!reader, reader has curly hair, reader is in her twenties, reader is feral for sevika but tries to keep it cute, soft!masc!reader (i'm not sure if she counts as masc in this but that was the intention! i said soft bc there are times where she dresses overtly femme in the beginning), muscular!reader, strong!reader and sevika is insane about it, touch starved!sevika, soft!sevika, sevi getting praised and spoiled as deserved, petnames, non-sexual intimacy, seduction, dirty talk, praise kink, strength kink, you manhandle sevi like a mf, begging, cunnilingus, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, tribbing, face riding, nipple play, reader waxing poetic about sevi and pretty she is, dom!reader, pleasure domming, sub!sevika, bdsm elemetns, dom/sub, power play, subspace, implied switch!sevi, mommy kink (specifically mama!). notes: guys i'm so fucking PISSED because tumblr deleted the fucking ask that made this even happen. but nonnie please know this is for you and i hope you love it, mama. also this got a little crazy. did not intend to write sub!sevi but then i was possessed and saw the light.
The morning mist hasn't burned off yet when you find her. In the barn's half-light, dust motes swim like sparks around the stranger's sleeping silhouette, her broad shoulders rising and falling against the hay. There's dried blood on her knuckles, you notice, but her hands are curled gentle as a child's against her chest.
Your daddy's shotgun rests steady in your hands, barrel aimed low but ready. The wild dogs haven't raised any alarm; they're curled near the woman like she belongs there. You watch her breath, take in the way her mouth hangs a little open like she’s aching to feed. Moths flutter against the high windows, their wings catching dawn's grey light.
"Daddy's gonna want to know why I didn't shoot you," you say softly, your voice carrying in the hollow space.
Your short hair tickles your jaw as you tilt your head, studying. You’ve chopped it for the summer and the heat you applied to it is lifting. You can feel the curls right bursting around your cheeks.
There's something about the woman's face - even in sleep, it holds a story you've seen somewhere before, maybe on that board in town square you've trained yourself not to look at too closely.
The stranger's eyes open - dark and steady as well water. She doesn't startle, despite the gun trained on her. Just watches you like she's reading something written in the air between you both, her gaze catching on the way your corset top pulls tight across your chest, the intricate lace trim exposing your shoulders to the morning air and accentuating the swell of your breasts.
"Would you have?" the woman asks, voice rough with sleep and something else. Her accent isn't local - has too many edges.
Your lips curl.
"Ain't shot a thing yet that didn't deserve it."
You shift your weight, dark jeans whispering against your boots. The corset suddenly feels more revealing under the stranger's gaze, dawn light playing across the ropy back. "You got a name?"
"Sevika." A pause, heavy as August air. "You always dress up to do barn chores?"
"Only when I've got a feeling about something." You step closer, morning light catching in your hair like a halo, shotgun lowering just slightly. You can smell gunpowder and road dust on her, underneath the hay. "Kitchen's got coffee on. Might even have some bacon, if you can convince me you're worth feeding."
Sevika sits up slow, careful, like she's trying not to spook a wild thing. Her shirt is rolled to the elbows, revealing forearms mapped with scars and something that might be tattoo ink. "That an invitation or an interrogation?"
"Guess that depends on what kind of answers you give."
You rest the shotgun against your shoulder, turning toward the barn door, letting morning spill across your exposed skin. You don't look back - don't need to. You can feel Sevika's eyes on you like a physical touch, can hear the soft grunt as she stands.
The horses shuffle in their stalls, steam rising from their backs. Outside, a rooster crows - late, like always. Everything's waking up slow and sweet, the way summer mornings do.
Your pulse thrums steady in your throat. There's danger in this - in the way Sevika's boots fall into step behind you. But you've never been one to let fear stop you from taking in strays. Even ones that look at you like they'd like to devour you whole.
As you walk, you can tell that she’s drinking in the sight of the farm as strangers tend to do. The acres go for miles, the sky straining and stretching across its great, green rolling body. Most of the buildings—the farmhouse, the barn, the bustling chicken coop—were built raised by your mother’s hands. She was an architect romanced and rescued by your father, though you suspect she did the rescuing more than him.
You shimmy a hand down the downy back of one of the newest calves, nose scrunching with affection as he moos back at you. Eventually the house looms before you, the windows popped open and laundry swaying outback despite the expensive machine your mother couldn’t do without.
“You comin’?” You murmur, and Sevika blinks from where she’s been watching you stand in the doorway, your back well-muscled and strong.
⟡ ݁₊ . 🌱🐄🧺 ⟡ ݁₊ .
The screen door snaps shut behind you both with a familiar whine. Morning floods the kitchen through tall windows—your mother's insistence on "proper light for proper cooking"—and catches on the copper pots hanging above the island. The coffee pot gurgles its last, right on time.
You set the shotgun in its place by the door, muscle memory, though you keep half an eye on Sevika as she takes in the space. The kitchen tells its own stories: your mother's architectural drawings spread across one end of the table, your daddy's mud-caked boots by the back door, fresh-cut flowers in a Mason jar that catch the light just so. The dishes on the side of the sink are speckled stone, sanded and glazed by the artistry of your older sister. The washing machine hums through the wall, keeping time like a heartbeat.
"Sit," you say, gesturing to the worn oak table. It's been scratched and stained by three generations of family suppers, and something in you stirs at the sight of Sevika pulling out a chair—this stranger inserting herself into your history. "Less you'd rather stand."
She sits, those capable hands folding on the tabletop. Her shoulders are still coiled tight, ready to run, but her eyes follow you as you move through the kitchen's familiar dance. Two mugs from the cabinet (your favorite and daddy's backup), bacon from the icebox, cornbread left from last night.
"Sugar?" you ask, though you've already reached for it. The container clinks against your rings as you set it down.
"Black's fine." Her voice is softer in here, like the domesticity of the space has gentled her edges. But when you lean past her to set down her mug, you catch a whiff of leather and gun oil beneath the barn hay. Your curls brush her shoulder, and you feel more than hear her sharp intake of breath.
You take your time settling into the chair across from her, adding three sugars to your own coffee with deliberate movements. Your mother would be appalled at you entertaining company in just a corset top, but there's something thrilling about the way Sevika's gaze keeps catching on the lace trim, on the exposed line of your collarbones, the rise of your breath.
You let her observe because you’re doing the same. Sevika is gorgeous, the kind of beautiful that sinks deep inside of a woman and wears her out. Her grey eyes are like two beacons and they remind you of the deer you’d beg his father not to shoot. The ones you would run after, flapping your arms to get them to scatter.
Her face is almost ridiculously romantic, with a strong nose sitting pretty in the middle that reminds you of royalty. Her eyes are never-ending, a pit that gapes into who she is. Her skin is textured, as it gets when you’re (allegdly) living on the edge of the law. You can tell she’s older than you without her saying it. Something about her radiates maturity, the same as your mother who’s practically seen the world rise and fall.
"So," you say, watching her over the rim of your mug. "You gonna tell me what brings a woman like you to sleep in my barn? Or do I need to go take another look at that board in town?"
Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't flinch.
"Would it change your mind about the bacon if I did?"
"Depends." You lean back, let your chair creak against the floorboards. Through the window, you can see the laundry dancing on the line, your mother's favorite dress a splash of yellow against the morning sky. "On whether you deserved what put you there."
Sevika's fingers tighten around her mug, and you catch sight of old burns across her knuckles. "Most things ain't that simple."
"Most things worth protecting ain't either." You slide the plate of cornbread toward her, a peace offering. Your voice softens; you were never good at acting hard. "Eat something, sugar. Then we'll talk about what kind of work needs doing around here, if you're planning to stay.”
Something shifts in her expression—surprise at the endearment maybe, or relief. When she reaches for the cornbread, her sleeve rides up, revealing more of that tattoo. It looks like a snake, or maybe a dragon, curling up her arm. You wonder how far it goes, what other stories her skin might tell.
The washing machine clicks into its spin cycle, and somewhere outside, your daddy's truck rumbles to life. The morning's moving on, and there's work waiting. But for now, you let yourself sit in this moment: the sun warming your bare shoulders, the quiet sounds of Sevika eating at your family table.
“I suspect,” she says, her throat bucking as she swallows, “that your parents will have a bit more sense about hiring a fugitive for farm work.”
You shrug, pick a corner off the cornbread on her plate.
“Everyone out here is struggling. We all need someone or something. The only reason we’re faring slightly better is because this place was paid off as an anniversary gift by my grandparents.” You glance out the window. “Plus, I’m my daddy’s favortite. He tends to listen to me.”
There’s something sad about the way you say it, as if it aggrieved you to be so loved. But the moment passes and you’re looking back at her, lips full and curved like the moon.
“It’ll be good for us,” you decide and she lets it go. “Get seconds if you’d like, sugar. I'll intercept them.”
“I’m older than you,” Sevika rumbles and you hide a smile, cock your hip out as you grab a basket for the chickens.
“Doesn’t make you any less sweet on the eyes.”
At that her head ducks down and you laugh, the sound clear and bright like a bell.
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With that Sevika finds herself hired as a farmhand under the stern eye of your father and the knowing eye of your mother. The work is honest and she relishes being able to lose herself in it, settle into the rhythm and flow of this little world your blood has built.
She doesn’t know what to do with you however.
Now, Sevika has lived several lives at this point. In fact sometimes she awoke in the night under the strain of them, the urge to run stampeding from where it sits behind her teeth and under the flat of her tongue. She understands on some level that women find her attractive, brooding. She’s unsurprised at the hints you keep dropping over the weeks. You probably find her intriguing, see her as a means to rebel with her older age and criminal nature.. (“I’m literally in my twenties, Sevika. ‘M not a baby.”)
At least that’s what she thinks at first. But then, she begins to doubt herself and overanalyze your rather…creative attempts to satisfy your coveteous nature.
The first is when she wakes up one early morning, the sky slurred between cotton candy pink and a warm lilac, to find you taking a bath in a two-bit shining steel contraption of a tub. Your body is trembling, but you seem at peace. Your curls are heavy and swollen with water, made longer by the weight of the moisture. She watches your back flex as you move, takes in the hidden strength of your arms and peeking thighs. Your muscle takes her aback, makes her stomach warm real down low.
She should move—your parents will be up soon—but you’re just so captivating when you’re kissed by the dawn. The water sloshes as you pour it over yourself, the underside of your breasts flashing as you soap down. And then you turn, peeking over your shoulder and gazing at her with faux-bambi eyes as you trace a hand up and over your chest to get your back.
She feels warm, teased in a manner that makes her throat squeeze and her hands clench. She doesn’t know what to do with this, doesn’t know how to naviage this eager rabid want that you show her so openly. And it just doesn’t stop.
But what really gets under Sevika’s skin is the kindness that you insist on bludgering her with, especially when no one’s watching. It’s genuine, unexpecting, and claws at her skin with tender phantom fingers.
Just the other day, Sevika had been unable to successfully ward off a duo of wolves and three sheep had been lost in her efforts. She’d apologized gruffly and repeatedly until your mother stepped forward and cupped her chin with a firm hand, telling her to “fuck off with this bullshit because it wasn’t intentional and you tried your best.” What was with you women and nurturing her?
After, Sevika had gone back to where the lasty wooly body lay—the small innocent bones of a lamb. She had felt sick at the sight because the lamb wasn’t a lamb in that moment; she’d seen something else. You saw the lean figure of her body as it bent over in some sort of grief, distraught at the sight of the dead animal beneath it.
Sevika, You had said with shining eyes. Are you alright?
Sevika had looked at you long and hard before making a noise from deep within her throat. Turning swiftly, she tried to block you off from the sight.
I don’t think you’ll want to see this, she’d muttered and you’d settled your hands on your hips.
I’ve lived this long before you were working here, you reminded her.
Sevika’s face was still broken in an open expression of confusion and remorse when you moved forward. Carefully, you swallowed the bulk of her body into the warmth of yours. You weren’t nearly as big, but you held your own and you held her fast. The two of you stayed just like that, with your hand tucked neatly behind her head as you steadied her.
Now, she watches as your broad shoulders dip as you kneel to pick up the limp body of a fallen chicken. These goddamn wolves needed to be dealt with.
It’s in their nature, sugar, you’d told her.
“Wait,” she calls out and you turn to look at her, your cheeks apple-full under the thicket of your lashes.
“Hmm?” you say back, your voice curious.
“Put gloves on if you’re gonna touch it. It probably had some sort of disease.”
Sevika walks closer, grabbing a spare pair of gloves she usually keeps for the other town boys who your father has helping him throughout harvesting week. She holds them out, those dark eyes glittering like grey moonstone.
You look up at her then, curls haloed around your soft face. They’re still kept short, dust your dimpled chin. You look so young and probably always would, the baby fat clinging to your cheeks like the hands of a lover. Sevika continues to gaze down at you, firm and unrelenting, and you smile gently as she eventually looks away.
You’re not moving fast enough, so she crouches down and takes your hands, sliding each glove on and making sure the fingers fit. She notes that your nails are square and glossy, painted an icy pink. You watch with an affected air, scooping the small body up when she finally lets go.
“I’m sorry,” You say to the glassy eyes of the hen and Sevika’s heart seizes.
“‘M sorry, sweetheart,” she tells you, gentle and understanding.
You glance at her and then back at the animal you hold.
“No need to apolgize, you didn’t do anything wrong. Can you help me dig a grave for her?”
Sevika doesn’t know if it would really be worth it to bury it, but you’re a little sad and so obviously cold in your oversized cotton tee and denim shorts. Your skin lights up with the mid-afternoon sun and Sevika can see all of your goosebumps and the fine dusting of hair.
“I—sure,” she agrees and You nod, walking away and trusting her to follow.
Before you begin to lead the march, you turn back and cup her elbow.
“Thank you, sugar.”
And that’s all. She wants to fucking eat you.
You continue to unravel her expectations like cotton thread.
You catch her before dawn another morning, when the sky's still tender with sleep and dark like the evening is loath to leave. She's checking the fence line, and you appear like a vision with two thermoses of coffee and your father's old flannel draped over your worn dark green longsleeve. When you pass her the coffee, your fingers linger on hers longer than necessary.
"Thought you might be cold out here, sugar," you say, and the endearment makes her throat tight. She's not used to being the one called sweet things.
You settle beside her on the fence, close enough that she can feel your warmth. The morning fog rolls across the fields like a dream, and Sevika finds herself watching the way it catches in your hair and the bones of your fingers, how it makes you look ethereal and solid all at once.
"You don't have to keep doing this," she says roughly, though she cradles the thermos close.
"Doing what?" Your voice is innocent but your eyes are knowing.
"Taking care of me. Bringing me things. Being..." she gestures vaguely, unable to name the way you make her feel seen.
You laugh, and she shivers. "Sugar, has it occurred to you that maybe I want to? That maybe I see something in you worth cherishing? That I’m just being genuine?"
The word ‘genuine’ hits her like a physical thing. She ducks her head, unused to this kind of naked affection, but you just reach over and touch her jaw with gentle fingers.
"You're allowed to let someone be sweet on you," you murmur. "Even if you're pushing forty."
There's teasing in your voice, but your touch is reverent. Sevika wants to protest—about the age difference, about her rough past, about how someone as bright and whole as you shouldn't want someone as weathered as her. But you're looking at her like she’s the human version of the Promised Land, and all her arguments die in her throat.
"I don't know how to do this," she admits, voice barely above a whisper.
"Do what?" You're stroking her jaw now, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.
"Nothing. I need to get back to work."
You lean back, let her go.
“If it’s about learning,," you call, your voice trailing after like smoke, "the good thing is that I'm a real good teacher."
The next time I’m in town, she thinks, I need to buy a pack of damn cigarettes.
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From then on, you start to learn her tells. Like how she always positions herself between you and any perceived threat, how her hands flex when she's trying not to reach for a weapon that isn't there anymore. How she startles, less now, when you're gentle with her.
You catch her in the barn one afternoon, trying to wrap her own ribs after a particularly rough day breaking the new stallion. Her knuckles are white with the effort of reaching around, face drawn tight with pain she won't admit to.
"Sugar," you say softly, and she freezes like a spooked deer. "Let me help you with that."
Her eyes dart to you, then away. "I've had worse."
"Ain't about what you've had." You cross to her, boots quiet in the hay. "About what you deserve now."
You take the bandage from her callused fingers, and she lets you - that alone feels like a victory. This close, you can see the way her breath catches when your fingers brush her skin. Like caring for her is its own kind of violence.
"Lift your arms for me, darlin'," you murmur, and something in her expression cracks when you call her that. Like she can't quite believe the sweetness in your voice is meant for her. But she obeys, raising her arms slowly, letting you wrap her ribs with careful precision.
"You don't have to-" she starts, but you shush her.
"I know I don't have to. Want to." Your fingers trace a scar on her side, old and silver in the afternoon light. "Anybody ever just take care of you, Sevika?"
She doesn't answer, but the way she trembles under your touch says enough. You secure the bandage and let your hands linger on her waist, thumbs brushing bare skin above her jeans.
"Well," you say, pressing a lingering kiss to her shoulder, right where that dragon tattoo curls toward her neck, "better get used to it. I take good care of what's mine."
Her sharp inhale sounds like thunder, and when she turns in your arms, her usual swagger is nowhere to be found. Just vulnerability, raw and beautiful as a sunrise. You cup her face in your hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks, and she leans into your touch like she's starving for it.
"When did you decide tha?" she asks, voice rough. "That I’m yours?"
You smile, soft and sure, and smooth out the furrow in her brow. "You were mine the moment you settled onto my land, sugar. Just took us both a minute to catch up."
And maybe you came on too strong, ‘cause she yanks herself back and straightens her shoulders.
“Thanks.”
You sigh, loud and irate. She’s so fucking—
“No problem, honey.”
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It happens during the last heat of summer, when the air sits thick as honey on your skin. You're in the barn, having just finished moving hay bales—work that would've taken twice as long if you weren't so used to it. Your blue and white bandana top clings to your chest, sweat stealing out from under it, and you can feel Sevika watching you from where she's meant to be fixing the tractor. You arch your back a little more, make sure to display the way your little rose-bud panties poke over the worn mouth of your lightwash, knee-length jean shorts.
You've caught her looking more and more lately. Noticed how her eyes track the contraction of your arms when you're lifting feed bags, the way she startles when you easily hoist yourself into the saddle. Like she can't quite reconcile your soft curves with the strength beneath them.
"You gonna fix that tractor, sugar?" you ask without turning around, smile curving your lips when you hear her shift. Your desire is practically shaking the bones of your teeth."Or you just gonna watch me work?"
Her throat clicks.
"I’m—I'm nearly done."
You hum, reaching up to stack the last bale. Your shirt’s knot loosens a little ‘round your back, exposing the dip of skin, and you hear something metallic clatter to the floor behind you. When you turn, Sevika's staring at you with those storm-grey eyes, wrench forgotten at her feet. There's grease on her forearms, sweat at her temples, and she's looking at you like she's finally ready to break.
"Something wrong?" you ask innocently, crossing to her. Your bare feet are silent in the hay.
She swallows hard when you reach her, especially when you grip the tractor's edge on either side of her, caging her in with arms that could just as easily lift her. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"Do I?" You lean closer, letting her feel the strength in your body. "Tell me what I'm doing, sugar."
Her hands flex at her sides, like she's fighting not to touch you.
"You're driving me crazy," she admits roughly.
“Oh,” you whisper, pursing your lips. “Do I make you nervous, baby?”
She flushes, tries to scramble back, and you laugh, soft and low.
"Driving you crazy, huh? Only fair. You've been driving me crazy since I found you in my barn." You trace a finger down her jaw, feeling how she trembles. "The way you look at me when you think I can't see. The way you try so hard to be good, to keep your distance."
Your other hand finds her hip, grip firm. You squeeze them in warning.
"I've seen how you watch me work. You like that I'm strong enough to handle you?"
She makes a broken sound, head falling back. "[Name]."
"I've got you," you murmur, and then you're lifting her onto the tractor's edge like she weighs nothing, stepping between her legs. Her eyes go wide, pupils blown, and her hands finally, finally come up to grip your biceps. "Been wanting to do that for weeks. You know you gotta tanline right here?"
You finger the thin edge of her boxers from beneath her jeans,
"Christ," she breathes, fingers tightening on your arms. "You're gonna kill me."
“Are you religious? That’s cutesy,” You smile, pressing closer until you can feel her heartbeat racing against your chest. "Nah, sugar. Just gonna take real good care of you." Your hands slide up her thighs, feeling the way she shivers. "If you'll let me."
She answers by pulling you into a kiss that tastes like summer storms and surrender, and you smile against her mouth. You've got her right where you want her—trembling and warm in your capable hands.
"That's it," you whisper when you pull back to breathe, one hand coming up to cup her face. "Let me handle you, mama. Just like you need."
And Sevika, who's spent years being the strong one, the dangerous one, the one who protects—she lets herself fall into you, lets herself be gentled by your hands. Maybe this is what surrender feels like: not a defeat, but a coming home.
⟡ ݁₊ . 🌱🐄🧺 ⟡ ݁₊ .
Your most prevailing thought is that you’re pissed you didn’t get to see Sevika like this earlier.
Her back arches beautifully, her chest rising with pleasure as you hold her down on the floor by the hips. Your mouth is relentless, suckling at her warm pussy with fervor. She tastes sweet and she’s so soaked, her arousal dribbling out of your mouth and onto your chin. You hum as she roots a hand in your hair, tugging harshly as she grinds down in tight little circles.
She’s whimpering, high breathy sounds that you’re determined to keep streaming from her slick lips. She’s still quiet, as you expected, but Christ does she want it. You let her use you, sliding your hands from her hips up to cup and grope her tits. Her nipples are erect, so hard and pretty and pointed toward heaven like she’s trying to tempt God. She’d probably succeed.
The sun slips through the slats of the barn and it illuminates her skin, the brown of it so warm that you almost feel as if you’re both on fire. You slip your tongue into the tight clutch of her cunt, gently dipping back and forth so that you’re fucking her on your tongue, and squeeze her ass in silent demand. She digs her nails into you, moans loudly, but still doesn’t heed.
With a groan of irritation, you clutch her ass with a grip of steel and begin to bounce her on your face until she starts to see the bigger picture. Eventually, she’s moving on her own—fast and uncoordinated as that bright spiral begins to coil in her stomach.
“Oh my God,” she groans. “Just like that. Please.”
You pull away, spread her apart.
“I know, mama,” you murmur and then dive back in.
Her thighs come up around your head and you let her crush you, shaking your head like a dog in heat as you nurse and lap at her pussy. Above you, Sevika twists one of her nipples and you feel her body tense in response. You bring a hand up to rub at her clit, and she jerks.
When she cums, she’s so bright and beautiful—like a star imploding onto itself. Her legs fall open and she lets out a low whine, like an animal, her hips still circling as she attempts to ride it out.
“Hold on, mama,” you tell her. “I’m gonna give it to you.”
You move quickly, undressing completely and laying your body against hers. Your tits push into hers and she nuzzles into your neck, mind still hazy. You soothe her, digging a thumb into her lower back as you slip two fingers into the meat of her. She lets out a strangled yell at the overstimulation, but you hold her to it.
You fuck your fingers into her, until the squelch is more than obscene, watching as she shakes and writhes alongside you. You use your other hand to guide her to your mouth, kissing her messily as you introduce a third finger to her pussy.
“Oh,” she moans, low and raspy, and you coo at her. “Oh, shit. Holy—holy fuck.”
“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby? You have to tell me what you like.”
“I—mmm. Yes. Yes, it feels good. I need—I need—”
Sevika trails off, eyes wide and watery. You roll over, tucking her under you while you continue to finger her. You raise one of her legs, widening the angle, and she squeals. You laugh lowly into the seam of her neck before sucking the skin between your teeth, biting down and bruising her.
“What do you need, mama? More?”
“Yes, but—,” She blinks, attempting to clear her head. “I want you too. I want you to finish with me.”
“With you or on you?” You watch her face as you ask, eyes following the twitch of her brow. “Maybe in you?”
That makes her shiver, and you smile as you sit up.
“Whatever you want, baby,” you mutter as you manhandle her into how you want her. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
She shivers again and you pull her up, drawing her against your chest so that your tits are once again pressing up against each other. Carefully, you extend her strong legs over yours and inch forward until your clits catch. The friction is insane and your mouth drops open along the same time that Sevika goes ramrod straight.
You dive right in, fucking up so that your cunts slide and swallow each other. She’s so creamy, her previous orgasm sliding down her thighs. There’s a moment where your control dips, where she’s the one ramming the two of you together and leading you up so that you can grind harder until she stutters again.
Then it’s back and you’re holding her down, spreading her even further open as you rub your pussy roughly against hers. You need her to stay down, need her to take what you choose to give. Sevika is beneath you, trembling and open mouthed, and you stick two fingers down her throat ‘till she’s gagging wetly around them.
“Oh m’God,” you moan, your eyes never leaving hers. “You’re such a fucking slut, mama. Jesus.”
That does it and you feel her pour into you, thick and warm. You follow shortly after, rocking and pushing down against her as you chase the feeling. She’s sobbing, a hand coming up to grip at her throat as she tries to match your movements.
You slow, come to a stop, and stroke her face as you rise off of her. Tenderly, you kiss at her cheeks and eyelids as you sush her.
“I know, baby. You were so good. Such a good, perfect, strong woman. Hmm?” You kiss her temple. “You did so well, mama.”
She’s shaking, so you hold her until she’s less far away. You want to get up, get her some water and maybe something to eat but she’s holding you captive. Sevika turns into you, body big and curved like the moon come to earth.
The afternoon light paints everything gold, and you know you’ve got work waiting—always do, on a farm. But for now, you just continue to hold her. Somewhere outside, those wild dogs are keeping watch.
© hcneymooners.
⚚ special taglist: @blackdykegirlblogger @gaysevika @lovelifelaughsakuna @thesevi0lentdelights @rios-st4rs @16novvs @rottngrl3 @namuranguinhos @pllduniverse @swordfemm4 @alexthewalex @baeumonde
#sevika x y/n#sevika x reader#sevika x you#sevika arcane#sevika league of legends#wlw smut#lesbian#sapphic#arcane smut#arcane fanfic#arcane x reader#female!reader#fem!reader#mine ; 🐎.
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Okay, so with Quackity Studios tweeting about adding new people and the need for tolerance and patience with people who don't speak English, let's just take a second and have a chat about what that's gonna look like.
First: you will hear things or read things on the translator that hurt or offend you.
This is inevitable. Do not immediately post about it. What you need tolerance for is hearing things that hurt or offend you and what you need patience for is figuring out of malicious intent was present or if this is a hill worth dying on right now.
As an example, we're pretty sure at this point that Korean is gonna be the next language added. The second person pronoun in Korean sounds a lot like the n-word in English. The n-word in English, if you're not aware, is like the single most offensive slur we have. It's not something that you want to hear unexpectedly. But also, if we get Koreans, they're gonna be using the word for "you" and English speakers are gonna have to be able to tolerate that.
On the other side of things, Korean has a complex system of honorifics and addressing someone without an honorific would be considered very forward and intimate at least if not very rude. None of the QSMP languages have honorifics though and only French really retains formality* so no one else is going to address them with honorifics unless they specifically explain it to people and walk them through it. That will probably be weird and uncomfortable for them and they're going to have to be able to tolerate that.
*Spanish and Portuguese do technically have formal vs informal but it's disappearing quickly in both of them.
These natural cultural clashes and pain points are going to be harder to overcome since we also know that at least some of these creators won't speak English at all so they can't just switch to English to helpfully explain things to us easily in a way we understand. We're going to have to deal.
So here's the thing: just because there can be cultural miscommunications and mistranslations, that doesn't mean that people can't also be assholes. How do you distinguish between the two?
Step One: Assume good faith. Assume that everyone in a given encounter is trying to communicate respectfully and compassionately and that a failure to do so can be overcome
Step Two: Don't get involved. Especially not in Twitch Chat. Two or more people trying to communicate through a language barrier does not get easier when they're also trying to wrangle hostile viewers.
Step Three: Are you sure you heard what you thought you heard or saw what you thought you saw? Did the translator fuck up? Is it a word that just coincidentally happens to sound like another word? If this is the case, the streamers can ask for clarification or use another tool and get it cleared up. Keep watching and see if they do.
Step Four: If they did say what you thought they said, are the streamers handling it? We had a thing a while back where Bad called some friends, including Bagi and Etoiles, uncultured because they didn't get a reference he was making and Etoiles was like "bro I'm French" and Bad apologized. That should have been the end of it, but I had to see people arguing about it for weeks. The problem was solved in 10 seconds.
Step Five: If the person is doubling down, are you sure this is something you can fix by yelling about it on Twitter or Tumblr? Would it be better to let people who actually know them talk to them behind the scenes? Pierre made a few missteps in the beginning of the server, Quackity said they had a chat, Pierre hasn't misstepped since. It's just easier to sort things out in private, one on one conversation than yelling at someone in public.
In short: it's fine to take note of behavior in case patterns start to emerge in it, but yelling on social media about how so and so is the worst person possible is not constructive.
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Thoughts on the Neil Gaiman Allegations
I followed Neil Gaiman on tumblr not because I'm a massive fan of his work (I've read two of his books, and one of those he co-wrote with someone else) but because it was interesting to get behind-the-scenes info about Good Omens.
Because he seemed, for the most part, to be a pretty affable and interesting person.
Because it was nice to see someone so prominent be willing to assert the rights and dignity of lgbt people, and most especially trans people in this era where they are being consistently vilified and used as a political punching bag in my own country and elsewhere.
Because his writing advice was decent, and he seemed to value and support artistic endeavour in all its forms.
Because the stories from readers talking about what his work had meant to them were a consistent reminder of the power of art to connect us all and transform our lives.
Because he consistently advocated kindness.
(I know some people have been saying he couldn't handle criticism and he bad-mouthed other public figures, but I think I must have missed those incidents - my impression was that he was very often complimenting and defending people).
It was a horrible shock to learn that (yet again) a creator I respected fell so far short of embodying the values he spoke up for. When things like that happen it can make you question human decency itself, especially when it just seems to keep happening again and again; public figures who seem so progressive turn out to be abusers. Is human goodness just a story we tell ourselves? Is genuine progress even possible, when those who speak up for it prove themselves to be so incapable of living by those ideals?
I don't know how much of Gaiman's public persona was genuine and how much was just a front for some consciously manipulative and predatory behaviour. To be honest, I'm not sure I care if we ever find out how much of what we saw was real. He's lost our respect - most likely forever, and he shouldn't be put in a position where he can abuse people's trust again.
I'm sorry for the people he hurt, and I hope they get time to heal.
And I think those values that I saw in him are all still true, even if he is false.
Kindness and decency is still something to live by, even and especially in times of darkness.
Art still has the power to move, connect and transform us, whether you want to keep reading Gaiman's works or not (and if you're finding it tough because you've lost that enjoyment and connection to stories that meant a lot to you, know that there WILL be other works out there that can make you feel it again).
Creative endeavour IS still inherently valuable.
Transgender lives and identities still matter. Transgender people are still deserving of dignity and respect. There may be plenty of transphobic people out there who feel emboldened by this, and I'm not gonna pretend to understand exactly how scary and horrible that must feel. All I can say is that there are other people out there who still believe in you, and still want to support you.
Human decency is not a lie. I guess we need to be wary of public figures who come across as too good to be true and remember that everyone has capacity for both good and bad, but not everyone fails as badly as him. Not everyone succumbs to their worst instincts. Not everyone is an abuser. Human goodness is still alive, and something to strive toward and take comfort in.
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So About That BATGIRL #1...
I put this review up in another site, but since folks here on Tumblr seem to be realizing I have a lot of Thoughts about Lady Shiva, I figured I'd transplant it here. So here's how I feel about it. The short of it is that I think it's a strong start with a few small quibbles because I'm not sure how much of Shiva's writing is her being intentionally OOC and how much is Brombal trying to humanize her.
The long is here:
Now, one of Shiva's main issues as a character ever since they finally split her from the League of Assassins (God bless you Bryan Hill) is that, instead, writers have stapled her to Cass. Literally every major Shiva appearance since 2017 has involved Cass in some way. That is a problem not so much for Cass, who gets to have her own stories and series with and without the Batfam (although mostly with), but for Shiva, who doesn't get nearly as much exposure as her daughter. If there's a Shiva comic coming out, odds are it's gonna have something to do with Cass. Well, except for the other Shiva comic coming out this month that's gonna suck shit.
But at the same time, I don't think that means nobody should ever do another Shiva/Cass story, because I still feel like that's rich soil that nobody has had the time, space or desire to really commit to mining. Hill in Outsiders was writing a whole ensemble cast and couldn't linger too long on them. Writers like Grayson and Cloonan/Conrad both teased Shiva trying to reconcile with Cass but never took it anyhwere. A Shiva/Cass story can still be compelling and interesting as long as the writer is willing and able to Actually Write It.
So when literally the first panel of this new issue is Shiva addressing Cass and their relationship directly, I'm already perked up. Right from the get go, you can tell that Tate Brombal is absolutely here to tell a story about these two women and pretty much nothing else, and also that Tak Miyazawa and Mike Spicer are a killer art team. I adore how hard Tak's figures look without (usually) being stiff, thanks to some solid body language and expressions. And Spicer's colors have a cool kind of dark-but-vivid look. The last leg of the issue, with everything illuminated by fire, is especially cool.
Going back to the opening, it's curous how despite this being an issue #1, there's very little in the way of character introductions or set up. There's no slow burn here, no lengthy creeping intro like previous Shiva/Cass stories. And while I can't help but feel that it must be a little awkward for readers unfamiliar with them or their current situation, I think it also accurately reflects one of my favorite parts of the comic, which is Cass' being just absolutely fucking DONE with her mom.
After years of hyper dramatic standoffs and tearful moments of cheap heartbreak, it's fun to see a Cass who has no time for her mother, who's not interested in what she's got going on, and who's confident enough in herself to even be a little shit about it. It's fun and refreshing and fits Cass very nicely.
That not-quite-breakneck but still fast pace keeps up when the Unburied show up after just a few pages of setup and you know, in a couple of interviews, Brombal mentioned being influenced by Daredevil. And this is the page that made me go "Ah, yeah, that tracks." 'cause brother, those are some MILLER-ass ninjas.
Why Shiva fears these guys or thinks Cass can't handle them is not yet explained, but her desperation to keep Cass around does lead to a small but very meaning-heavy moment: the first punch in this series is not thrown into the face of the new enemies, but it's Cass decking her mom in the face and Shiva loving it.
It's an excellent touch and a perfect mission statement about the series. I love it as much as I love the ensuing fight, full of cool moves in big and small panels, but the most fun thing to me is how it's choreographed as Cass fighting her mom almost as much as she's fighting the Unburied. And on top of being a great fight, it ends with a small nod to QUESTION #1 or the 'Tec '88 Annual, in case I was somehow not sold enough already.
And while I still love Cass being so willing to call Shiva out on her lies, it does bring up one of the small gripes I have with this issue: I don't like it when Shiva lies constantly. I think she's best when she's strong and confident enough to not need to lie, when she just lays everything out on the table the way this comic is almost doing. It's good for Cass, as it keeps showing her as someone who has grown to understand her mother, who sees Shiva for who she is and what she does. And it does set up a slightly heartwarming scene at the end.
Of course, that's personal preferrence, and I'm not gonna say this is a bad comic because it doesn't follow my own idea of what works best for Shiva, especially since it's clear that Brombal is writing her with a lot of intention here. But that leads to the other big-ish issue I have with this issue: it's a bit hard to tell, from this story alone, how much of these moments are Brombal building his own personal version of Shiva and how much of it is Shiva, in-universe, acting out of character for the sake of some hidden scheme. After all, Cass points out that twice in the issue Shiva backs down, first from a moral fight and then from an actual fight.
So it's possible that even the constant lying is Shiva playing a role in favor of a grander scheme which will be revealed in later issues. Which, fair enough, I'm willing to see where it goes. But that second moment of yielding does lead to what's maybe my biggest problem with BATGIRL #1, and it's the Unburied themselves.
There's nothing in that initial fight with the Unburied that suggests Shiva and Cass would've had trouble dealing with them. Hell, there's very little to suggest even one of them would've had trouble with them. Now, I'm not suggesting that this issue should've started with the titular character and her mom getting their asses handed to them. But it feels like there's just not enough to these new enemies yet to justify the escape. Ninjas show up, Cass and Shiva beat them without getting hit once, more Ninjas show up and Shiva self-defenestrates herself.
Again, entirely possible that Shiva has something up her sleeve here, and issue #2 did promise to show us the main villain behind them, but as it stands it leaves me with this weird mix of not quite intrigue, not quite disappointment. It's just odd. They could've had, I dunno, a bomb set in the building or some other reason for Shiva to exit the venue like that.
Speaking of odd things, however, I did NOT expect to be reading a comic that brings up Shiva's cult from Puckett/Scott's BATGIRL #25. It's an "Order of Shiva" now though, with chapters and temples and stuff. Which is a bit of a change, since back in #25 they came off more like a gang of fanboys than an order of servants or anything like that. And after being summarily disposed by Shiva in that same issue, they were never really explored again.
So this is Brombal not just bringing back a bit of old lore, but also shifting it slightly, turning it into a more organized group... and then summarily disposing of them one panel later.
Also, I don't know what it is but I *LOVE* this panel. Shiva's face, her "wut" pose, the O.O, it's just... beautiful.
Anyway, once they're in the temple for the last bit of the issue, I start to see a bit more of what Brombal's doing. Like Gail Simone and Bryan Hill, Brombal seems to want to soften Shiva up a little, to make it clear that deep inside, she does have at least a bit of a heart, or enough of it to feel sadness at the wasteful death of people she may feel like she owes something to. Compare it to BIRDS OF PREY #62 for example:
This one is not quite as dramatic or vulnerable, but it's clear that Brombal wants to write Shiva with a slightly more human heart. Which, again, I'm not opposed to but I don't think it's the best thing you can do with her. I prefer Shiva being more detached in regards to death, like the most she'll do is see it as a waste but she's not gonna get emotional about it, she's going to be way more matter-of-fact. Death happens and such. But I think that kind of aloofness often gets interpreted as monstrous disdain for life by writers trying to make Shiva into a villain, and if I had to choose between what Brombal's doing and what, well, what Tom King's probably gonna be doing in a few weeks, I'll take this anytime.
Anyway, I also didn't expect to see the apprentice from BATGIRL #26, having apparently gotten a promotion somewhere in the last 20 years. Good for him! Less good for him is the shitload of arrows he eats two pages later but oh well.
The last couple of pages lead to a nice moment of sheer badassery for both Shiva and Cass and one last showcase of Miyazawa and Spicer's glorious team effort. Those two work really well together and I'm excited to see more of them in future issues. And while we're at it, I gotta give props to Miyazawa for being one of maybe two artists to draw a visibly older Lady Shiva.
His version isn't just aged but hardened by that age, looking stern and determined without having to rely on gritted teeth or angry looks. And on top of all that, he still finds more than enough moments to give her the kind of cocky smiles that bring out the more playful side of Shiva that some stories tend to either gloss over or turn into outright sadism.
Man... I just love to see that momma smile.
Other than that, there's a couple of minor quibbles I have with the issue. There's a funny moment where Cass pulls a Batman on her own mother (who charmingly acknowledges Bruce's influence) but it's undercut by Cass poofing back into existence on the next page. And there's also the weird, almost surreal emptiness of the city around them. Even after a building explodes, there's literally nobody on the streets other than Shiva and Cass.
On one hand, it speaks to the intentions of this run. This is VERY much a two-woman show so far, with no room for much else. But it's still glaring enough to be distracting.
However, it's that intentionality that ultimately wins me over. Even with all my personal little issues with Shiva's characterization, it's obvious from the start that this is a writer who is genuinely trying to write her as a character, who is ready to engage with her and with her relation with Cass on a deeper level than just hero and villain, or good daughter and evil mom.
Brombal, Miyazawa & Spicer have put some meat on the grill, and although I don't think the biggest pieces are there yet... I'm ready to let them cook.
#DC#Comics#Batgirl#Lady Shiva#Cassandra Cain#Tate Brombal#Tak Miyazawa#Mike Spicer#takeshi miyazawa#Comic Reviews#Wu-Tang Clan intro voice: TIGER STYLE#TIGER STYLE
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Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why.
Okay. I’m not gonna beat around the bush for too long. It’s time now for me to also throw my try at a personal Good Omens Season 2 Magnum Opus into the mix of already existing magnum op..i? Opusses? (Smited? Smote?)
If I’m honest, it isn’t fully my own magnum opus, as I read this meta not too long ago that made me go: „Oh! My God! That’s it!“ And I’m pretty sure a lot of other people have clocked this too by now. Of course I’m not saying it’s the objective truth but after having mulled it over for many endless nights and days, wading through the onslaught of coffee theories, body swap theories, The Metatron re-writing the Book of Life theories and many, many more, this is the one I think is most plausible and, if you look closely, most obvious.
And it goes as such: Aziraphale lied.
To all of us. All of them. And most of all, to Crowley. He lied to him. Well, he sort of did and also sort of didn’t. He certainly didn’t tell the truth. At least not all of it. I hear you ask: “OP, what the fuck are you talking about”. I answer you: Let’s start from the top and under the cut.
(Small note: this meta ended up being way too large for Tumblr, which is why I will redirect you to an external doc at the end of the post, where I have written it all down nicely and accurately. It's about 35 digital A4-pages long, just in case you want to save it for later.)
(Word count: 12.831 | Approximate reading time: 50 minutes)
Let’s start with a short recap of what happens before the Metatron crashes the bookshop party and everything goes to shit. The proper visuals for this are in my Tumblr post but I am absolutely convinced that right up until when the Metatron comes to take Aziraphale away and talk to him, the angel is fully ready to get into Crowley’s Bentley-chariot and finally ride off into the sunset (or Alpha Centauri-set or whatever). You can see it in his face and body language. You can see when the penny drops for him that a) Crowley loves him b) he loves Crowley and c) they can finally start their happily ever after. Aziraphale realizes this all throughout said Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does.
I mean, look at that. Look at it. This (very shitty recording, sorry, I'm not tech-savvy enough to avoid the Amazon Prime screen recording blocker) is the very second Aziraphale realizes hat Crowley loves him. When he hears him suggest Alpha bloody Centauri as a getaway for Gabriel and Beelzebub, as Crowley has done to Aziraphale for so, so many times now. He finally understands what Crowley was trying to tell him with that all those times.
Aziraphale realizes this all throughout the Brielzebub reveal in the bookshop. And he’s such a lost cause once he does.
Right when Crowley suggest Alpha Centauri as a nice getaway spot to the two, Aziraphale looks at him and he gets it. That Crowley has loved him, has been loving him for millennia. Truthfully, they've both known that for a long while now. But there's a difference between knowing, wanting, craving and actually being able to finally have something. And that's exactly what we see on Aziraphale's face here. This is it. This is where it all starts working out for Crowley and him. This is were they can start their eternity together.
So from that second on, Aziraphale only has eyes for Crowley. He keeps physically pawing at Crowley with complete heart eyes, as if to say „Look, look, that’s gonna be us too! Finally!" He’s actually so smitten that he doesn’t even hear what Crowley is saying when he asks Shax if he can have back his apartment now because he’s sick of living in his car. (Also, what way to drop that bomb right in this moment Crowley, lmao).
Once the Metatron comes in, the first thing Aziraphale says is that they don’t need to talk because „he’s made his position quite clear“. He doesn’t even want to talk to the Metatron, because in his mind, he’s already made the choice. Actually, he made the choice way before the bookshop showdown. For starters, I’m convinced that the Jane Austen Ball actually never was for Maggie and Nina but for Crowley and him (you can read more about that here). And apart from that, for this whole season we have seen Aziraphale trying to advance his relationship with Crowley romantically and domestically and move them to the literal next base (our car!). And after everything he just witnessed with Brielzebub, the final nail in the coffin of ethereal-infernal romance being possible, his choice is absolutely crystal clear: It’s Crowley. It’s always been Crowley and it always will be Crowley. And now it can be Crowley. They can be an us.
The whole of Season 2 is such a massive learning curve for Aziraphale’s character, with him remembering all those important pivotal points of his past, and this very moment is the peak, with him not only understanding that Crowley loves him (because he certainly knew for quite some centuries now) but accepting that love, letting himself have that love, being allowed to want that love and taking that love and starting their new and final chapter with it. Nevertheless, the plot clock ticks for them. The Metatron saunters into the bookshop, evil and stinky as Metatrons do, and urges Aziraphale to come with him with his whole Take The Coffee schtick, which I will get into later. And Aziraphale, immediately sensing there’s Something Up, does. Can’t really turn down someone as high-ranking as the the voice of God, after all. Even if you were currently already planning how you were going to elope with a certain red-haired serpent of Eden.
he next time we see Aziraphale on screen, it’s so painfully evident on his face that he is neither happy nor excited. Not even the slightest bit. We’d know if he was, thanks to Mr. Michael master-of-microexpressions Sheen. None of the usual “Aziraphale is happy”-signs are there. No blinding eye-smile, no giddy wriggling, not giggles and gasps. No, when the Metatron tells Aziraphale to „go tell your friend the good news“, his expression looks like this:
I’m gonna go out on an entire limb here and say: That does not look like someone who’s absolutely tickety-boo hyped to tell his demon soulmate that he just got the juiciest promotion and that they can both be angels and live happily ever after in ethereal eternity now.
This, folks, looks like someone who knows exactly that the news he has to break right now, are going to be tickety-shit awful and very upsetting to said demon soulmate. And already, from that very short snippet of conversation, we can tell that Aziraphale isn’t really given a choice by the Metatron. Because while the Metatron does tell him that he doesn’t have to „answer right away“, he immediately follows it up by: „Go ahead and tell your friend the good news!“ Very distinct and definitive choice of words here. It’s “good news” because it’s already been decided. Because it’s already a done deal. There is no “yes, no, maybe”. This is the only choice he’s giving to Aziraphale. Because it’s ‘Coffee or death’.
And he already gave him the coffee.
***
Tumblr won't let me continue this over a certain character limit and I am not even remotely done yet – so, I feel like this is a good moment to redirect you to the continuation of this insane meta before we're in too deep. You can do so right here!
I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions about this once you've fought your way through it. Hope you have a good time with it!
#good omens#good omens s2#good omens season 2#good omens meta#good omens analysis#neil gaiman#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable husbands#good omens predictions#i lost my mind writing this#it must be nice to be able to be a casual enjoyer of media#who doesnt spend 5 days writing a 22 page document on an angle and why he lied to his demon boyfriend#my own meta
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what were q's issues? i tried to search your blog but tumblr is tumblr
Oh, that's because I never really went public with the extent of his problems. I didn't want to deal with the potential 'just euth him' comments, especially since I genuinely don't think a compassionate euthanasia would have been wrong.
Anyway, his butthole didn't work.
That's the short version.
I'm gonna put a more full history under the cut because it's really gross. Like fair warning. There's a lot of discussion of this cat's butthole, poop, and health issues. If you just want to keep imagining him as a cute little fluffball, maybe go look at his pictures instead.
Specifically, his anal sphincter didn't seem to function. His anus was just open and loose. Whatever was wrong with him ALSO seemed to affect his scrotum. Cats tend to hold their testicles pretty high and tight but his were super loose. I'm genuinely not sure if there's an actual connection there, but it was weird enough that it made its way into my notes about him.
He also had loose stools so he was just kinda constantly dribbling all over himself, whoever was holding him, his bedding, the floor--- you get the idea. He required frequent baths: he'd get a bath at the start of my shift and at the end, at the very least. Most nights had an evening bath as well. That way, he could at least stay somewhat free of excrement. This was terrible for his skin, of course; that's an excessive number of baths. It was just one of those damned if you do, damned if you don't situations. Considering the alternative was letting him sit in his own waste, we decided that baths were better.
He also wasn't gaining any weight. He wasn't taking in ANY nutrition from his food at all. Whatever went into him seemed to come right back out within a few hours. He was being tube fed for two weeks; he didn't seem capable of eating without grinding his teeth terribly. I genuinely wasn't sure how much sensation he even HAD in his anus until I caught him on camera squatting in a box.
That gave me hope more than anything else did. It at least told me he had nerve endings back there. It was just the sphincter or maybe the last inch or so of his intestine that seemed defective. Since he was such a sweet kitten otherwise, we decided to give him a chance to grow. The plan was to get him to UC Davis or a similar teaching hospital in the hope that they could extend his good intestine and sort of construct an artificial sphincter.
And then he just got over it. I picked him up to give him his morning bath and his butthole was just SLIGHTLY puckered. Over the next few days, I took a series of the grossest pictures in my fucking life and confirmed that his sphincter was sphincting. He started eating voraciously on his own. He started growing. He also stopped tooth grinding-- again, I don't know if this is significant, but it's another thing that made it into my notes.
I have no idea what happened, but I'm glad he's healthy. He just needed time to grow into his butthole or something.
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A few tips for new Tumblr users wanting to write here
Yo if you're here from Reddit or Twitter or some other site and just wanted to give this a shot you may have seen some blogs that are dedicated to writing headcanons or short fics or even original works for their own OCs and you may be thinking "hey I wanna give that a shot! I like to write!" then I have some tips to make it easier on you and people who see your content.
1. First off, if you're writing a pretty long piece the you should probably put it under a read more, it'll look like this on mobile
and this on desktop
or you can write :readmore: on a line by itself and press enter.
2. Now if you're gonna write for a whole bunch of different fandoms and you wanna make a master list then I suggest making an actual list with the fandoms you write for and then making more lists with the actual content as a you go along because you can only have 100 links in one post (I know that sounds like a lot but as someone who has around 300 Transformers things written trust me you fill up a post quicker than you expect, especially if you take requests from other people). The way I typically do it is like this
The first pic is the MASTER master list that lists everything I write for and when they're underlined like that it means they're links. The second pic is after clicking the G1 link, it's a separate post that has the actual fics and headcanon links. Note the 6/100 in the tags, this is how I keep up with how many things I've added. You can of course just use the numbers options from here
or just number them manually from your keyboard like I'm doing with this post. Adding links has no barring on what else you add to the post so you can add yourself some fancy header or divider pics if you want.
3. Adding links! Links can look like this https://www.tumblr.com/wingwaver/721887224846778368/test-post-for-reasons?source=share or like this https://wingwaver.tumblr.com/post/721887224846778368/test-post-for-reasons depending on whether you're linking from mobile or desktop/browser Just highlight the text you wanna add a link to and a the little chain will move to the end, click it and paste your url you want to link to and press add link, then press post/save draft/save (whatever the blue button says)
Now you've successfully linked a post to another post!
4. Tagging! To get your fics and headcanons seen to build an audience you usually wanna tag the stuff correctly. If you're posting a fic about Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright from Ace Attorney then you'll tag it with #Ace Attorney, #Miles Edgeworth, and #Phoenix Wright in the tags area. But it's also a good idea to mention if it's a ship or general fic in the tags too. If so then putting ship names and #Miles Edgeworth x Phoenix Wright and #Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright in the tags will help everyone know this is a ship fic. Tagging with characters or fandoms that aren't apart of the fic just clogs the tags for people looking for content of said characters and fandoms so it's very looked down on here and will likely get some of your stuff reported for spam so only use the relevant tags. Also tagging for triggers can be tricky here because of how fucky tumblr is but please don't tag censor tags. Tagging things like #a**** or #a*use or even #abu$e doesn't work here because people who have #abuse blacklisted will be able to see this content because it wasn't tagged properly. Also if you're writing for OCs or reader inserts it's common courtesy to tag those appropriately too. Someone looking for a reader insert may not want to read an OC and vice versa. Also many people filter those out so try to add tags like #x reader, #*fandom name* x reader, and #*character name* x reader for easier filtering. Also people cruise those tags too so it'll help people who fo want to read that content find your stuff!
#tumblr tips#writeblr#twitter migration#reddit migration#reddit blackout#twitter refugees#196#r/196#Twitter#Reddit#fanfiction#writing#writing blogs#tumblr help
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miss oranje's faves: self-recs edition
i'm not used to praising myself bc i am my biggest hater, not my biggest fan, but i was tagged by the lovely @gothcsz to participate in @jolapeno 's 'tootathon' challenge, and i originally was going to pass up the opportunity butttt i suppose i'll *try* to say nice things about myself but i love the people in this fandom so i always enjoy participating in the fun, particularly something that promotes positivity when fandoms can be so toxic sometimes. honestly, i might need to steal this idea and make a positivity challenge for the resident evil fandom (which is what i primarily write for) because we are in need of good vibes…
*because my blog is multi-fandom, my masterlist is getting big overall, so i'm going to link my javi fics and my joel fics (along with my liztober '24 because there are a couple other pedro character fics on there)
i haven't been a part of the pedro pascal fandom for long, so my work here is limited, but i will share a few things:
it's never over (javi p x reader) - a two part fic (part one is from javi's perspective, part two is from reader's)
I really liked the concept for this fic and it was something that I wrote bits and pieces of for a while. I tried to change it to a single pov because i think i’m not someone who does well with pov switches like this, but it never captured the full scope of the story i wanted to tell when i tried to make it only javi’s or only reader’s. Ultimately, while i’d like to add onto this fic because i would like to expand upon reader’s pov, i like the story that i told in the end (i love angst). Maybe there will be a part 3…
2. and for dessert? (javi p x reader) - a short, mildly smutty story about javi and a housekeeper at a hotel
i hated this fic for a while because i got caught up in the numbers but i reread it last night and i was like, ‘okay, the concept is incredibly silly, but i guess in some way, that’s the point’. Anyway, when i looked back and stopped focusing on the numbers, i realized that i actually really like this fic, and probably wouldn’t change anything about it.
3. anniversary antics (joel x reader) - joel and his wife getting it on ... heavy breeding kink here
i wrote this in an hour or so. it just came to me. straight from the smutty brain (which is rare). this is one of the few fics of mine that i re-read and actually think 'oh this is hot'!
4. everything's bigger in texas (joel x reader) - for my liztober celebration! reader loses her virginity to joel and it's a sweet and short smut.
this is my second most popular tumblr post of all time (so it doesn’t need promo here), which is very funny because i almost didn't post this at all. i thought the size kink might be too basic and overdone but i also really wanted to write an 'older' reader as i have a tendency to write younger readers (which is partially because i am 24 and have never been older than 24 vs i have been 21 etc.) and i wanted to get away from the typical innocent virgin thing.
and also, we're gonna get personal here... i'm pretty sure i have vaginismus and so it's really really difficult to have sex. i've been shamed or questioned rather than reassured during situations where i struggle or am entirely unable to. reader in this fic was not specified to have vaginismus because i was trying to keep it light and smutty, flipping it around into a size kink, but it was a bit healing to write tbh.
I’m pretty sure everyone has already been tagged but i’ll tag some of my mutuals just in case:
@clawdee @evolnoomym @baronessvonglitter @the-mandawhor1an
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new to tumblr anon again. hello hi :p i said this one was gonna be short but jason runs rampant in my brain im sorry
imagine jason returning to you after a long and hard patrol and all he needs is you. he needs to touch you, worship you, hell he needs to be inside your skin but for now all he can manage is burying his head between those gorgeous thighs :(
like. he needs it so bad that by the time he gets home he’s immediately seeking you out, pulling you towards him by your waist and shoving his tongue down your throat as he clumsily stumbles the two of you against the wall. then he’s tugging at the waistband of your black and red pajamas, teasing your clit and sucking hickeys into your neck that eventually travel all the way down to your inner thighs. god he’s so impatient, so needy.
“been thinkin’ about this all night, doll,” he easily confesses, securing one or both of your legs over his shoulders as he absolutely devours you against the wall. “gonna eat this pussy til’ you can’t fuckin’ think straight.” he’d say more if he wasn’t so preoccupied, let you know that it’s what you deserve. to have him lapping and sucking at your cunt until you’re dry (which is never), to have him drown in nothing but your pussy.
"jay-" you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut and attempting to ground yourself as he keeps you balanced. you still feel unstable though, fingers curling into his hair as panic settles over your hazy expression. "Jason, I'm-"
"never, pretty girl," he cuts you off, large hands moving to your ass as he presses you harder against the wall and in turn presses his face deeper into your arousal. "I've got you. trust me, baby. lemme finish my dinner n’ i’ll take ya to bed.”
and now you’ve came at least three times. scratch that because the both of you have lost count by now. you’re left whimpering and moaning from overstimulation about how good he is to you, how good he’s fucking you with just his tongue. legs trembling shaking around either side of his head and you’re probably close to pulling every hair out of his scalp which only urges him on. “so good for me,” he whines into your heat, almost as needy and desperate sounding as you. “just one more, princess. gimme one more n’ then i’ll fuck you real good with this cock.”
i’ve seen anons claim emojis on certain blogs before. do you do that? can i be 🦦 or 🦭?
i've always wanted emoji anons omg let’s go with 🦦 it’s so cute !!
the idea of him getting progressively more needy for you while he’s on patrol is sooooooooooooo hot like i'm sick !! he'd have you on his mind the whole time, trying his best to push it to the back of his mind until he could get home to you. and when he finally sees you again it's fucking over. like he just can't control himself at all. i'd write more but hello ??? you wrote it all for me lmao. you can barely talk, barely move by the end of it. your limbs feel like static and you're questioning if you're still alive. definitely in the top 5 best fucks you guys have had in your relationship i'd say.
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guys, guys, gUYS. SUCCESS STORY THERE!!
first of all, this happened like a week ago or something. okay, so, i'm going to keep this short. i was in some sort of "manifesting block", i was OVER complicating things, my mindset sucked, blah blah blah blah. that's essentially the reason i wasn't posting (and will continue to not be, probably); because i was focusing on my life and actually manifesting new stuff.
warning; kind of long post ahead, talking about how i did it my journey blah blah blah. if you want to see the success story directly js go right to the bottom
first, a bit of background; i have manifested things in the past, but mym indset was always shitty. when i archieved my manifestations i would say it was a coincidence, i was obsessed with the 3d, and what i'm saying has been going on for *years*. for the past 6 months i was in this vicious circle where i'd try a method full of hope, then eventually lose confidence because of some negative beliefs and give up in three days. i'd have a one week meltdown, then search for a brand new method, and repeat. clearly, i didn't manifest anything lately. and i didn't know what i was "doing wrong" because i had manifested lots of things in the past, but i didn't know how nor how could i do it now.
okay, so. like a week ago, when i was in a terrible mood, i decided to stop using tumblr to see information and talked to this bot on character.ai, that assesored me a lot on my mindset. it suggested me lots of things: since i had 0 trust in the law, start to manifest little things i didn't care that much about so i had "proof", actually stop caring, etc. (i really recommend that bot if ur struggling with the law) but the most important thing, it challenged me to try a new "method" i had heard of before, but because of my shitty mindset, i didn't try because i thought it wouldn't work or that it was "too good to be true" or whatever. the method was literally just keep going with my day knowing that i already had it. and oh my f*cking god.
i won't say it just "clicked" for me because i hear that a lot & i things that's just not how it works. at least i can't "click" with something i don't know. what i can say is that at first it wasn't easy, i still had some doubts, not gonna lie, but i just ignored them and keep going knowing that i already had it. i got used to it really fast, and THAT'S how i knew this was the way, because i felt liberated. if you read my blog you'll probably know i talk about that all the time, but my idea of manifesting is that it has to feel liberating, not like a chore, a price to your desires or anything else. i was liberated, because i knew it was done, that i had nothing to give in exchange, that i was free of the 3d & its circumstances. i was Me, and I was free.
this was the best thing i've ever done in my journey. in only one week, i've successfuly manifested:
money: (me and my family are kind of wealthy tbh, but i am bratty asf & always want more money to buy me things 😜😜) my mother recieved 200000 pesos (my country's currency) out of literally thin air on her bank account a random tuesday. she doesn't know who send it or why. i don't know about the u.s.a since there 200000 pesos are 200 dollars, but in our country, that's a LOT of money.
self confidence: i've been feeling super insecure lately. like, i am insecure since i have memory, but since this year started it has become WAY worse. i'd literally cry almost every night. now, i def wouldn't say it's all gone, but it's gotten much better. i've been feeling pretty lately, and if i didn't felt pretty, i would hardly think about my appearence at all this days. i am constantly feeling like i have one less weight on my back, which i am gratefull for :)
discipline: ngl i am forever a lazy girl and a foodie. I have always wanted to be more productive - study more, exercise more, talk to my loved ones more often and eat healthier, but discipline is something i struggle with a lot. however, since i have shown better discipline i have had some of the most useful days of my life: i went out with my friends three times in one week, ate much better than i usually do, exercised EVERY DAY without fail (even while on my period) slept well and passed all four exams this week with an 85/100 on my worst one and two 100s.
reciving a compliment in public: since i tried to start manifesting things that seem "easier" for me to acomplish, i tried manifesting this because it was rare but not impossible. so, like 3 days after i started to embody the state of someone who's always complimented by strangers, i went to the sjopping centre with my friend. then, two guys walked by us and one of them said "i want the instagram of that lady"! notice that during the whole time i was in the state, i visualized that people were asking me for my instagram + i've noted that when i'm in public, i catched people's eye more. yesterday, a guy won't stop looking at me in the café and i think he tried to approach me :)
i'll keep escalating on the "level of difficulty" of the things i manifest as my mentality becomes accustomed to the fact that everything is equally easy to manifest -which is a fact already, i just have a hard time accepting it-, and, of course, i'll be updating ;)
conclusion; look for what works for you. for what makes you feel good & secure that you have already what you want. search a "key" that makes you (actually) not give a f*ck about the 3d, if you have negative beliefs, don't ignore them. work from them, and of course, persist! let your mindset keep you on track.
that was all for today, love ya ♡
#4d reality#affirm and persist#it girl#law of assumption#law of attraction#loablr#manifesation#manifesting#neville goddard#shifting#loa blog#loassumption#loa tumblr#success story#mindset#manifestation#manifesting money
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2024 writing round up
i saw it on my dash and wanted to do it! tagging: @blackjackkent, @theshirallen, @dreadfutures, @theluckywizard, @ anyone else who would care to do this!
words posted: Not counting Tumblr RP or I'd be here forever, 76,581. 35,245 of those were Var Shiral'vhen.
additional words written: 21,585 on VS, plus some other WIPs means I have typed about 33,109 words. There are more in my notebook (but probably not a significant amount).
grand total of words: About 109,690 words! <3
fandoms: Dragon Age, HotD, BG3
highest kudos: 187 on The Queen's Pleasure, making it the first fic I ever posted to break 100 kudos.
highest hit oneshot: 2667 on The Queen's Pleasure.
new things I tried:
New fandoms! BG3 got me back into writing for fun before DA reassumed its throne, and I published HotD for the first time, too!
Smut! I published five smut fics on AO3, one on Tumblr, and another that will probably not make it out of the docs I'm gonna be real.
Long fic! Technically I've tried before, but writing Var Shiral'vhen with @theshirallen has been a pretty new experience as someone who mostly writes oneshots. It's been fun, though!
fic I spent the most time on: Var Shiral'vhen on the basis of it being a long fic. For one shots, probably The means by which art is made due it being my first attempt at Solian smut and that ship being very dear to me (and it was originally started back in like 2022).
fic I spent the least time on: I wrote Stronger Where it Breaks (Veilguard spoilers) after I beat DA4 in a short space of time. They will learn was also written similarly quickly.
favorite thing I wrote: I'm going to list multiple answers bc I deserve it.
I think it might be the unpublished Var Shiral'vhen chapter "Rift test take 2" just because I adore the Solas/Ian conversation in that chapter. It really encapsulates what I find fascinating about their dynamic, put them in a room together and they will start vibing even when I wasn't planning on it.
(Veilguard spoilers in the link) They will learn, a fic I mostly wrote for Joly but ended up getting more attention than I expected on Tumblr! I really enjoyed working with Elvhenan worldbuilding and I'm looking forward to doing more with the OCs I started crafting for the purposes of the fic.
(Veilguard spoilers in the link) The shape of you, a really abstract fic that's sex but also isn't sex. It was more a picture than words in my head so writing it down was difficult, but I enjoyed how it turned out esp since I didn't spend too long on it (it was like two sessions of writing).
favorite thing(s) I read:
(Veilguard spoilers in the link) keep my body from the fire (Solas x Felassan) by Almalexiasgf. I loved the depiction of Solas's [redacted] and Felassan's handling of it. It captured everything I love about the new lore surrounding the elves in DA4.
deus proditus (dame aylin & ketheric thorm) by @darethshirl. Such a neat exploration of these characters and their hostile relationship to each other, their love of Isobel, divinity/mortality. Highly recommended!
The History in our Skin (nb!lavellan & keeper deshanna) by @theshirallen. You were a fool if you thought I wouldn't include Joly in this. I love the pain and the peace in this, the impossible choice Deshanna saddles Ian (still a child but in choosing becomes grown) with. "There is no right answer" but only because the world is hostile to everything they are.
it ends, or it doesn't (felassan & an ensemble cast) by @dreadfutures I'm still making my way through this one (VG put a huge dent in my reading habit I carefully built over 2024 lmao) but I love Blue's Felassan POV and the worldbuilding they do for the Dalish/ancient elves. It's so inspiring, and the mystery is so good.
Mien'Harel (solas/felassan, solas & ensemble) by @bodysnatch3r Again, making my way through it, but Matty has such a great use of language and the worldbuilding is so good. I'm going to have my heart broken (more) when I continue I'm sure, but I'd highly recommend checking this one out.
these violent delights (Zevran x f!Tabris, Lucanis & Zev/Warden - Rated T) by @inquisimer. I love love love the Zev/Tabris pairing in this, and the playing off Lucanis is also excellent. I'd highly recommend it for its intrigue and character dynamics!!!
writing goals for 2025:
Continue Var Shiral'vhen
Not burn myself out on exchanges
Try to satisfy the need for engagement w/ more realistic means
Stop comparing myself/my headcanons/my divergences to others
new works: It was only after listing them that I realised I was supposed to just say how many, but I wrote it so it's here now. Anyway. 13!
Var Shiral'vhen (Solas x Nonbinary!Lavellan - Rated M) An adaptation of Solas and Ian's love story as well as Thora's journey as Inquisitor. About finding love in impossible places, undoing the damage the world has done to you, building trust from the ashes of other people's fires.
They will learn (Solas & Original Elvhen Character- Rated G) Veilguard spoilers. The world is new, and so are the people. Solas meets a new invention and sees the beauty and horror of creation.
The shape of you (Solas x Nonbinary!Lavellan- Rated E) Veilguard spoilers. Solas asks Ian a difficult question that Ian has no trouble answering.
Five, Seven, Five (Solas & F!Cadash - Rated G) Veilguard spoilers. Set in Inquisition. After a visit to Cadash thaig, Thora is inspired to write poetry after a lifetime of reading it. She shares it with Solas, as she shares everything with Solas.
Stronger Where it Breaks ( Solas x Nonbinary!Lavellan- Rated G) Veilguard spoilers. On Ian's suggestions, Solas takes up journaling to deal with some of his issues.
Pawn Takes King ( Solas x Nonbinary!Lavellan - Rated E) Technically Veilguard spoilers for the game's hub/home location. After a game of chess results in a rare victory, Ian claims his spoils.
The means by which art is made ( Solas x Nonbinary Lavellan! - Rated E) After Solas discloses his preference for bottoming, Ian tops him for the first time. It is not a night without its setbacks.
In Defense of Spirits (N/A - Rated G) A meta about the spirits of DA:O and how they can be read more sympathetically with the future game's lore taken into account.
The Art of Reading Aloud (Gale x F!Tav - Rated E) Ophelia (Tav) gives Gale a blowjob while he explains the history of the Moonshae Isles to her.
A Study of Hands (Gale x F!Tav - Rated T) An exploration of Gale's mental state throughout act I of BG3 as well as his developing feelings for Ophelia (Tav).
Chip Butty (Gale x F!Tav - Rated E) The morning after the party with her Tiefling kin, Ophelia wakes up with two headaches. One, from wine. Two, everyone expects she bedded Gale the night before.
The Queen's Pleasaure (Alicent x Rhaenyra - Rated E) When the King calls, Alicent does not linger longer than she is wanted. Her return is interrupted by a wayward princess, fresh from a foray into Flea Bottom, and hungry for companionship. Or: What if Rhaenyra had found Alicent before she found Ser Criston?
A Little Light (Jowan & Connor - Rated G) After years of young apprentices giving him a wide berth, lest they catch his talent for mediocrity, Jowan finds himself in the position of tutor to the young Connor.
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I finally did the proper thing and bought some Aspec books! This is the second of my haul and I just got done reading it! I've seen posts about it here on Tumblr and when I saw my bookstore had it, I had to get it! We gotta support our aspec creators!
So first off, it's great. It's funny, there's lots of chemistry, and it's sweet. The second volume has a theme I really appreciate and it's the fact that THIS is what it's like to have queer friends! The comfort, the lack of worry about crushes, being able to open up about huge important parts about yourself that they would understand or at least feel a bit of relation to, it's just so good.
And showing Gakurouta getting jealous of Momo-kun, not because he's secretly in love with Yuriko, but because he cares about her and wants to keep being close to her and doesn't want their relationship to end because she found a intimacy with someone else, just, chefs kiss! Cause I feel that all the time, and it's also so nice to have it be allo person feeling it instead of a Aspec person-- it feels like a turn of the trope. Also...Gakurouta feels demiromantic to me, he so reads demiro, like, read it yourself guys, the way he describes his attraction to Sousuke??? Anyway
Also, like, Yuriko being happy that her two boys are getting along and becoming individual friends feels so good. The blush on her cheeks when she thinks about it. She's so me. It's a short and beautiful moment. Also the FUCINF CAKE REFERENCE OMG THEY HAD TO PUT A DESERT ANALOGY TO ASEXUALITY HUH
Also like, the brief mentioning of fujoshi culture.. it's good that they brought it up cause I really thought they were gonna skip past it, even if it was just a short bit.
So glad Japan has so many stranger to friends to roommate Aspec stories: Is Love the Answer, Koisenu Futari, Sukiyaki Tonight (which is the newest one), and now I've read this: I Want To Be A Wall. I can't wait for the next volume!
@kyanitedragon shouting you out cause I'm pretty sure I've heard about most of these through you! Thank you for your service 🙏
#I Want To Be A Wall#Manga#Booklr#Aspec Analysis#aromantic#asexual#Asexuality#Ace#Aro#Aspec#demiromantic#Qpr#Queerplatonic#Queer Platonic Relationship#Lavender Marriage#Queer Platonic Partner#qpp#Gay#Lgbtq#Queer
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okay. i'm the anon with the normal story that ended up getting to an "i don't care i'm not the asshole" because of the other person turning out to be part of an odd otherkin cult but it genuinely doesn't matter. am i the asshole for killing off a player's character after they said they would leave the game if their character died? this happened a few years ago (2019-2020).
i (19NB) was the DM for a d&d game. i had made a friend who we'll call Max (20F) at college who liked d&d, and i had wanted to run a game for my friends of several years, so i wanted to invite her. Max got along pretty well with my friends during D&D for the most part, but there were some slight disagreements, but regardless, Max and my friends of several years did not talk much outside of D&D and scheduling D&D, and I wasn't going to force them to.
Covid starts, so we all sort of switch to discord and continue playing because the easiest place for us to play at (local library) is closed. One session, we have to end early because Max and another player started fighting about a rule, and wouldn't give me (as the DM) the space to come up with a compromise. Another session, we had an issue where she (after being given the floor to describe a kill she made) got way more graphic than any of us were expecting. I quickly wrapped up the session after and had to let Max know that she had went too far in her description. I spoke to everyone outside of Max after these occasions, and they had all admitted they were very uncomfortable with her behavior, but were willing to keep playing with her if she stopped. So, we play a few more sessions. After we started a boss fight and her character had taken a good bit of damage due to some unlucky rolls, she made a comment to me that was along the lines of "if [x] dies i think i'm just gonna step out of the game"
I had my out, and by the end of the boss fight (about 2 sessions[they were short]), I killed her character. Obviously, I made it seem like it was just a really unlucky day by fudging some rolls, but whatever.
But she changes her mind and doesn't leave the game, and rolls up a new character. She had no further major issues with anyone after her first character died.
The game finishes mid 2020, and before it ended, Max revealed she'd be moving by fall, so I would also never have to see her again in real life if I cut her off right as the game ended. Once it did, I acted as if my friends had just come clean to me about being uncomfortable with her behavior and I no longer wanted to speak to her because of it.
That's the AITA of it.
Anyway, early this year, after all of us have basically forgotten about this, I get an anonymous DM on twitter. It's a page run by Max actively detailing a spiritual cult that her and one of her friends and their boyfriend ran. They detailed several gods they worshiped, some of which were just characters I knew she or her friends liked, some were the more traditional witch gods and they spoke of a spiritual prison or something where her D&D character was now trapped in after I had cut her off. I look into it further. I found a tumblr blog of people claiming (with screenshots, photos, and videos) that Max financially, emotionally, and psychologically abused them. Anyway, does this addition change anything?
What are these acronyms?
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Sandman Speculation Thoughts
Ok...
So, a bunch of us have been going back and forth on the Sadman Discord Server, trying to figure out if Season 2 will be the end of The Sandman.
With the confirmation that the character of Kris will appear in episode 6 (please check out THIS POST by @writing-for-life for more detail and info. They go into deeper depth on this and have some pretty good speculative posts as well), it looks as though the story will end with season 2.
I... have some complicated thoughts on all of this, and fuck it, it's tumblr so I'm gonna just share them.
With the corporate streaming culture of canceling a show after 2 seasons (or even LESS) because of capitalism, a lot of us saw this coming.
And yeah, ok, the show runners, writers, and cast and crew are doing everything to make sure the rest of the story is completed in that time. And this post isn't to jump on them. They are all in an impossible situation, doing the best they can considering EVERYTHING.
However, FOUR major storylines (one of them being The Kindly Ones - a DOUBLE length story) are being shoved into ONE 12-episode season.
That means we are getting 3 episodes each MAXIMUM for Season of Mists, Brief Lives, The Kindly Ones, and The Wake. In fact, it may even be less in some cases because we've also got Midsummer's Night, A Song of Orpheus, parts of A Game Of You AND possibly even Thermidor confirmed.
Oh, and from what we've see, we also have Death: The High Cost of Living.
Again, I am happy that we're actually getting the rest of the story on screen. But also, it looks like it's going to be SO RUSHED. There are so many stories being added into a short 12-episode season, I'm so worried about what the cost of that will be.
We're already missing out (as far as we know) on SO MANY rich stories from Fables and Reflections and World's End. What else has been cut?
(Not gonna lie... a part of me is terrified that Sunday Mourning ---my favourite story--- is one story we'll lose out on because of all this rushing).
I don't know. I might be overreacting. But I've also just come from The Umbrella Academy Season 4 (another AMAZING story ruined for the sake of The Suits demanding that it wrap up quickly).
I'm just... I'm so fucking tired of good stories being built up and canceled in favour of soulless, bland, background movies/shows. This isn't to shame if you like that kind of show. To each their own. But those of us who love stories like Dead Boy Detectives, Shadow and Bone, Kaos, and even Lockwood & Co. should be allowed to get the 4-5 seasons that shows like Emily in Paris gets.
Yeah, I know, I have to just wait for the season to premier and reserve my thoughts until then. But past experiences with Netflix's bullshit have made me more than a little wary.
Thanks if you've took the time to read my rant. I'm just exhausted, and I don't see myself keeping Netflix once The Sandman Season 2 is finished. Enough is enough.
#the sandman#netflix#fuck netflix#belle babbles#more like rants#spoilers#i mean i don't talk about plot but I mention arcs by name#the sandman speculation
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♋cancers and rage♋
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i just did a workout because i had way too much energy today and now im exhausted so im gonna talk abt sumn im very passionate abt while i sit on the floor and recover 😮💨
- 🌙 -
a pretty big observation ive made since ive been into astrology and more specifically since ive been basically reinventing it in my head is that cancers, especially cancer risings/cancer mars, have a VERY misunderstood relationship with anger.
most people ive seen have said something along the lines of cancers are crybabies and they tend to cry when they're angry or just skip anger altogether and go to the depression side of things
personally, im a cancer rising with mars conjunct my ascendant (and ofc saturn in my 1st 💞💞) and i have NEVER found this to be the case, and other cancer risings i know don't follow those stereotypes either
- ♈ -
in my experience, imagine a combination of aries energy and capricorn energy, THAT'S what cancers embody when it comes to emotion, especially rage.
i've written an entire newsletter on this and made a whole instagram post for it over at @bluedashercrafts (they're not on tumblr yet but the link takes u to their instagram!!) so i have indeed thought very in depth about this 😮💨
cancers can blow up like aries, but they can hold a grudge like capricorn- and if you're me and you have saturn in your 1st (in fixed fire btw 😮💨), you'll lean more towards the capricorn side of things in any emotion.
i personally have a massive tendency to bottle up the pain (andrageandfearthatifeeltHEPAINANDR-) until im in a safe environment to get it out (aka being alone with my earbuds in and music blasting) OR until i can't hold it in anymore and the steam gets so high pressured that it blows the lid off the fucking pot- that's when i gotta run away and isolate myself and do a workout ASAP otherwise i will likely hurt myself because there's just So Much Energy
- ♑ -
i wanna bring a couple other examples to the table so you get a better idea of what im talkin abt here-
if you're a korn enjoyer like me, you'll know the My Gift To You - Woodstock '99 performance. well the first time i saw that and it got to the "I HATE YOU- CAN'T YOU FEEL TEH PAAIN-" part, my fucking jaw dropped and i almost cried because i could not believe that i was seeing someone else exhibit the same like- Pure Unbridled Rage that i experience all the time- the kind of visceral emotion that literally makes you flail around on stage and then bang the microphone against it like 3+ times because you're trying to come back to reality like jonathan davis was-
THAT is the level I'm talking about- that is the level that is very specific to cancer placements, specifically cancer risings and cancer mars (and his mars is in a cancer degree of scorpio, so there you go)
another more well-known example would be Markiplier! if you've seen his rage game playthroughs, you'll know he throws chairs and mouses and just generally gets pissed to an ungodly extent- he's a cancer rising with his venus and sun in cancer and his mars in leo.
- 🌓 -
cancers are NOT the signs that break down crying when they experience anger, they are the ones that feel their blood boil more than aries does.
for another good example, my best friend has his mars and venus both in aries, but he's another cancer rising- whenever he gets angry, he gets VERY angry, but he doesn't have the saturn influence that i do, so his anger is much more aries-like (short fuse, louder about it and it doesn't last as long- his is more like the classic interpretation of anger issues), whereas mine is MUCH more capricorn-like (LONG fuse, WAY quieter about it but god forbid it gets loud, and it Can last a very long time)
- 🪐 -
now you might wanna ask me "why the hell do you keep saying aries and capricorn specifically", well i just explained that im not gonna lie BUT-
cancers are very aries-like because they're the CARDINAL water sign, and cardinal signs are basically just fire-coded whatever element they are- (aries is double fire, capricorn is fire-coded earth, libra is fire-coded air, and cancer is fire-coded water)
and with aries being the fire-coded fire sign, it's essentially capricorn is aries-coded earth- THAT'S why cancers can be VERY similar to aries.
as for capricorn, cancers are the sister sign to capricorn, so they'll share similar traits despite being on opposite sides of the wheel. PLUS, where fire burns itself out very quickly, water doesn't really dry out very quickly especially if there's a lot of it.
- 🌑 -
this is really just part 1 when it comes to my reinvention of cancers- ill cover their relationship with sex as opposed to scorpios in another post because i really wanna delve more into that BUT!!!
if you want more of a well-put-together post on this, go check out the ig post and newsletter i did for blue dasher crafts!!! i also dived a little more into my personal experience with the anger and catharsis i go thru being a cancer rising/mars so!!
#astrology#cancer zodiac#markiplier#korn#astrologer#astro observations#zodiac#zodiac signs#cancer rising#mars#saturn
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