#like 2 days ago i was trying to figure out how to get from central to the local post office so i could pick up my tablet when i got back

[archersgoon]

[weirdfangirly]

—No Pure Blood

(Part 1)

Dark-Fiction Central ©️

Dark!Dad!Joel / Dark!Uncle!Tommy x Reader

Summery: You don’t want your dad to find out, so you let your uncle fuck you from behind.

⚠️ : Age-Gap (Joel is 53, Tommy 45, Reader 20), Rape, Dub-con, blackmailing, Dark!Joel, father/daughter relationship dynamics (everyone knows Reader to be Joel’s “adoptive daughter”), Reader calls Joel dad, confused Reader (Stockholm-Syndrom), father-figure Joel but messed up, manhandling, Daddy-issues, overprotective/obsessive Joel, manipulation, degradation-kink, throat-fuck/face-fuck, blow-jobs, breeding-kink, cum-eating, misogynistic-views/behaviour, name-calling, Uncle!Tommy (yes, it’s a warning from now on)

A/n: I had trouble giving Joel a title for this fic since he’s readers father-figure, kidnapper, rapist, pseudo-boyfriend—so I decided to just call him dad!joel and move on.

There will definitely be a part 2 because I’m not satisfied with the ending. Please like and reblog and leave me a comment—it will definitely motivate me to ACTUALLY write part 2 down instead of just thinking about it…

————

Joel needed you today.

He needed your juicy little mouth that was always so eager to do and say whatever he wanted.

His heavy balls were resting on your chin, his throbbing cock was sticking out over your face. The mascara ran down your cheeks along with tears, sweat and spit.

Just five seconds ago you were suffocating on his cock, not daring to pull away. Not daring to fight back.

He might as well have killed you then and there, and you still wouldn't have objected.

You respected him too much…or maybe you were confusing respect with fear? After all, he still wore the face of the murderer of your father. Your real father. But that felt like a lifetime ago…

Whenever you tired to think about your beloved father, his face morphed into Joel’s.

“Good girl.”, he praised you for your obedience and you couldn’t help yourself but find comfort in his words.

Joel couldn't decide whether to cum on your pretty face or make you swallow his load. He liked to know you full of his cum.

One day he would get you pregnant, just to see you round and full of him. He wanted to watch you raise his children. After all, your place was right next to him—and a life in Jackson wouldn’t change that. He would make sure of that.

This damn place was full of soft little boys who all grew up in the comfort of a thick fence that kept danger far away from them. They wouldn’t know how to protect you. They were trying to get your attention, running after you like a bunch of dogs. Joel was sick of witnessing it and not being able to do anything about it but to play “overprotective-father”.

He was sick of pretending that you weren’t his bitch.

He would knock you up soon enough. He would make a little mommy out of you and ruin your pretty body for every men out there. He would tell Tommy and the others that a random boy got you pregnant, so that nobody would get suspicious of it.

Poor girl got herself pregnant and dumbed by a random boy at a party while drunk—sounded believable enough. Joel couldn’t let anyone find out that he was fucking his “adoptive daughter“—that would be a fucking scandal.

His brother’s bitch would definitely try to kick his ass out of Jackson and this time she would actually have a good reason to do so...

He tapped your flushed cheek, signalling you to open up for him. You did. You opened your mouth widely, bracing yourself on his thick hairy thighs. He put his cock back in your mouth, it belonged there. You closed your plump lips around him.

“Ya‘gonna take what I give you, alright?”, he mumbled and grabbed a fistful of your hair. You closed your eyes and nodded, knowing what that would mean; its going to be rough and unforgiving.

He pushed his cock deeper and deeper in your mouth, before hitting the barrier of your throat.

You felt so good to him. He let his head fall back, relishing the moment.

You gagged, your eyes sprung open. You looked up at the tall man with big painted eyes that only made him want to fuck you even harder.

He wore nothing but a white undershirt. His broad shoulders and strong arms looked even more intimidating from this perspective. He was so handsome.

You wanted to make him proud.

So you braved yourself mentally, dedicated to not give him a hard time. He started to fuck your throat like it was your cunt, picking up on speed and force. Pushing himself down your throat making you gag and spasm under his hold.

All you could focus on was to not bite him even though every cell in your body was screaming at you to do exactly that. You couldn’t though. Your punishment would be way, way worse than getting used by him like this and he would most certainly not let you go to your friends birthday party tonight…

“Such a pretty fucking slut.”, he hissed, searching after his release that was seemingly hidden somewhere deep down your throat. Thankfully, it didn’t took him a lot of digging to find what he was looking for…

He exploded inside you mouth in such an absurd intensity that his cum leaked down from your nostrils, making you cough and choke around him. He was holding you in place tightly, watching your struggles intensely. Breathing heavy, strong chest falling up and down.

For what felt like minutes to you, there was absolutely no way for you to get fresh air into your system. His cum was blocking your airwaves. This had never happened before.

You were panicking. He wasn’t letting you go.

You just looked too pretty like this.

Eventually though, he let go of you with an animalistic growl, pushing you away from him. Your head hit the wall and you started to cry from what just had happened. Totally overwhelmed.

Like so often, you felt like a used napkin. Trash.

You crawled over to his legs and hugged him, trying to comfort yourself. “I-I c-couldn’t b-breathe.”, you hiccuped and looked up at him.

He was still trying to come down from his high.

„Walking around all day long in that skimpy little skirt, what did you expect would happen?“, he panted. “Told you many times not to dress like a whore.”

“M’sorry.”, you sniffed and whipped your tears away.

He made you let go of him and you immediately felt lost. „M’gonna take a shower now, girl. Wanna join?”

You wished. Joel wasn’t a softy, little things like asking you if you want to take a shower with him were the most he could do.

You shook your head. „I can’t…I’ll be running late to Anna’s birthday party.“

Joel was about to walk upstairs but stopped in his tracks. „Birthday party.“, he repeated like it was a curse-word.

„I-I told you last week.“, you reminded him. „You said yes, dad.“

How many fucking friends do you fucking have? Being invited to some kind of party every other night…

Joel was sick of it. Sick of Jackson. Your place was wherever he was and not at some random parties, or hangouts.

„Did I?“

„Yes.“, you said, truthfully.

„Mh.“, he looked over at you. You were still sitting on the floor in your tight little skirt. Spit and cum drooling down your face. Mascara running down your cheeks and half of your cherry lipstick—that he had gotten for you on his last hunt for supplies—smeared on his cock.

You did good—and good girls get rewards. His own rule. That was their system. That was how Joel got you where you were; confused, obedient and submissive.

He couldn’t let a life in Jackson ruin that. But you did a good job today and therefore you deserved a reward.

Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished.

„You remember the rules, girl?, he asked sternly.

„I’ll be home at 9. No entertaining boys. No drugs.“, you repeated like a mantra.

„Which one of them sluts was Anna again?“, he frowned. He could never put a face to the names of your friends, even though a lot of them would spend a lot of time over at their house throwing heart eyes at Joel.

„The one with the black hair and nose piercing.“, you said. “She’s not a slut, dad.”

“Mh.”, he just made and started to walk up the stairs. “If ya ass ain’t home at 9, me and my gun are coming to pick you up.”

“I won’t be late.”, you said, smiling. “Big promise.”

————

You whipped your face clean from Joel’s mess and tried your best to make yourself look presentable again. This was a special night after all…

You changed into a new shirt and applied another cover of lipgloss onto your lips.

You wanted to look your best for him…

It was a dangerous game you were playing—a deadly game even—but it was all too exciting.

Dean Winchester liked you. Really liked you.

He liked you so much that he wasn’t afraid to secretly meet up with Joel fucking Millers girl, risking to be caught. Risking to basically die.

Joel had a reputation in Jackson. Everyone knew about him and what he was capable of.

You had told Dean many times that if he wants to see you, it has to be discreet. Nobody could know about him and you, ever. You had told him that their relationship—no matter what kind of relationship—would mean danger.

For both of you.

Joel would kill Dean in a heartbeat, not even give it a second thought. However the things he would do to you would be much worse, because you had to deal with his outrage and anger for the rest of your life. He would probably start to tie you up again—he used to do that at the beginning, where he couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t try to run away from him.

You didn’t want to go back to that stage of your relationship with Joel. You didn’t want to be tied up to trees, heaters or posts again. You didn’t want him to walk you around on a tight leash again.

“I don’t know if we should see each other again, Dean...”, you whispered.

You weren’t sure if Dean was worth the risk. You didn’t even like Dean that much…You just liked to have the attention that Joel didn’t give you.

It wouldn’t be fair for Dean to get killed just because you were bored…

“Your old man won’t find out, babe.”, Dean said, knowing what you where getting at. He kept on kissing your neck and kneading your tit from under your shirt.

You were at the stables. It was your little hideout. Nobody would be able to find you here.

“But what if he does?”, you asked, voice full of worry. “What then?”

You already knew the answer.

Dean sighed and let go of you.

“He’s not the only one who had to survive out there for a long period of time.”, Dean said, now sounding annoyed. “He thinks of himself as tough, but guess what? So am I. I was part of a Raider-gang. Clickers and runners were the least of my problems. I had to showcase strength and dominance every day in order to not get fucked with. It was like living in a cage full of starving dogs. I know people like Joel and I know how to deal with them-“

Dean saw your big fearful eyes, hanging onto every word that left his mouth. He decided to better shut the fuck up before drying you out too much.

“Babe, don’t worry.”, he softened his voice again. “You are too pretty for that.”

He started to stroke your bare leg, making your skin prickle.

“C’mon let me make you feel real good, ya?”, he whispered in your ear before placing kisses all over your neck. He let his hand vanish under your top again, playing with your nipples. He was a good kisser and as you found out, you really liked being kissed on the neck. He made your eyes roll back.

Joel never kissed you like this. He never kissed you ever.

Dean’s lips eventually found yours, his tongue immediately entering your mouth, dominating your tongue. His hand wandered downside, finding his way between your legs. You jumped a little at the contact.

“You are not wearing panties.”, he realised and couldn’t believe his luck. He smirked into your mouth.

You blushed. Joel always liked it more when you didn’t wear any underwear around the house, so you figured Dean would like it, too. You could find a lot of similarities between them actually. Dean wasn’t like the other boys in Jackson, he was older and more experienced. Maybe you picked him because he was so much like Joel?

Dean was good with guns, good in killing clickers and a survivor. That’s why he got a position as a hunter—just like Joel.

“God, you are such a little tease, babe.”, he said and carefully slipped his finger inside you. You were wet since Joel had face-fucked you and you got nothing in return. Maybe Dean would give you the sweet-release you so desperately wanted. His hands were as skilled has his tongue. He fingered you in such a manner that you were surprised to actually feel your orgasm forming.

“Can you…can you keep kissing my neck, dean?”, you managed to get out without sounding too pathetic. It just felt soo good and it would help you cum.

He liked his name on your tongue like that.

“‘Course, babe.”, he whispered and started to kiss your neck again.

“And-and can you…can you call me…a slut?”, you whispered.

He stopped doing what he was doing.

Was that weird to ask?

You didn’t know. It was certainly normal for Joel to call you that.

You opened your eyes and blushed.

“What?”, he asked, confusion written all over his face.

“Never mind.”, you murmured in shame. You closed your legs and straightened your skirt.

You felt dumb.

“Wait, wait, wait.“ Dean said, not liking what you were doing. “You want me to call you…a slut?”

You nodded, face turning red. There was no point in denying it. Although you thought about acting like that was not what you said.

“That’s whatcha like to hear? You like being degraded like that?”

Joel always called you mean names like that when he was fucking you. At the beginning you didn’t really like it. It was hurtful to be called such nasty names all the time when you already felt bad about what was going on. It made you cry and you asked him to not call you that. You didn’t know what shifted inside you, but at one point you started to like it. It felt like a compliment to you. The only kind of compliments Joel was willing to dish out to you. You liked to be Joel’s slut and you wanted to be Deans too.

“Yes, it’s…it’s hot.”, you simply said.

Dean smiled at you in awe. “Damn, you really are a bombshell trough and through...”

Of course he would call you a slut. Dean was holding back anyways. This whole „boyfriend-act“ was knew to him too. He figured that the rules in Jackson were different than what he was used to outside. The only rule he knew was „take what you want, or someone else will“

However he was not with the raiders anymore. He couldn’t just take you from your father. He needed to make you fall in love with him first and soon he would’ve a cunt to warm his cock again. Dean liked a challenge anyways.

And you definitely were the biggest challenge in town.

“You should work on your compliments, son.”, a voice suddenly appeared from behind.

You jumped up from your spot and turned around. All colour left your face when you came face to face with…

“Uncle Tommy…”, you gulped, nearly choking on your own words. “What-what are you doing here?”

Tommy was standing there, hands casually tucked inside his jacket. A cigarette hanging from his lips.

How long was he standing there?

How much of your conversation did he witnessed?

Oh how embarrassing.

“Hi, sweetheart.”, he said to you and smiled, cigarette dangling between his lips. “Oh, well you know, I like to watch the horses while I smoke.”

He pointed at the stables behind him with his thump.

Oh this was the beginning of the end of your life.

Dean who was still casually sitting on the bench, one foot dangling over his leg and arms outstretched, looked over his shoulder to Tommy and greeted: “Mr Miller. Nice to meet you.”

Judging Deans very relaxed body language and the lack of horror in his face, you couldn’t tell if he realised how bad the situation was for him—and you.

“Nice to see’ya too.”, Tommy replied.

There was a tension building pause between all of you. Tommy was the one breaking the silence.

“You should go home now, son. I put’ya on patrol together with Joel tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the protocols.”, Dean nodded and rose up from the bench to his full height.

“You will definitely need to be well-rested, is what I’m sayin.“, the threat in Tommys sentence was hidden but there.

Dean nodded, in amusement and understanding.

Your worried eyes wandered back and forth between the men. You were close to hyperventilating.

“Yes, it’s late.”, you awkwardly said in hopes to debunk the situation. “I’m tired too.”

Another heavy pause placed itself onto everyone. You looked up at Dean, non-verbally telling him to please play along and just go home. That it wasn’t worth it. He looked down at you and winked, before tuning his attention back to Tommy.

“Good night, babe.”, he said while looking at the older man, provocatively.

Tommy kept his cool. He wasn’t impressed by Dean at all and he most certainly wouldn’t let him ruin this promising night.

“Mr Miller.”, he eventually said and walked away, leaving you alone with Tommy.

Tommy watched Dean wander away. He scoffed and shook his head in amusement. He took one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. “What a charmer.”, he murmured more to himself than to you.

He walked around the bench and took a seat, grunting. “If it was up to me,”, he started, “I wouldn’t let that prick anywhere near a gun, but you know, Joel was quite pleased with the way the boy handled himself out there. Skilled. The kid has experience, many people in Jackson don’t.”

You didn’t hear a thing Tommy just said. You heart was beating too loud and too fast, you feared to suffer a heart attack.

“Uncle Tommy, I-I’m…please don’t tell Joel.”, you begged. There was nothing but worry in your eyes.

“Sweetheart, relax.”, he laughed. “I was young once too. You don’t even wanna know what bullshit I pulled behind my parents backs…”

You cracked a little smile at that.

“And, believe me, ya don’t want me to tell you about Joel’s business when he was your age…”

That made you giggle. You couldn’t even picture Joel as a young man.

“Ah, you’re smiling again.”, Tommy pointed at your face proudly. “I like to see that. C’mon sit down next to me.”

“I should go home, uncle Tommy. I have to be home at 9 or else…”

He looked at his wristwatch. “Got planty of time then.”

He was right. You still got half an hour. You nodded and placed yourself next to Tommy.

You met Tommy for the first time here in Jackson. Joel had told you a lot about him during your journey. You warmed up to Tommy almost immediately. At first you were a little sceptical about the man, he looked a lot like Joel. However he was nothing like him—Well, maybe only a tiny-little bit. According to Joel’s many stories, Tommy was pretty badass too. „We used to be a duo“, Joel had told you.

Tommy was definitely more charismatic though. Everyone in Jackson liked him. He was warm and welcoming towards you, immediately accepting you as part of their family.

“You will not tell Joel?”, you asked again, just to make sure.

“Nah.”, Tommy shook his head. “M’sorry for ruining your little date, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “It’s ok, uncle Tommy. I’m not mad at you.”

He smiled. “That’s nice to hear.”

He paused for a second before speaking again:

“As your uncle though…I feel like I have to give you the speech.”

“The speech?”, you repeated, not knowing what ‘the speech’ was.

“Yea, the speech.”, Tommy sighed. “He’s your first boyfriend, right?”

You looked at Tommy, unsure what to answer. Dean wasn’t your boyfriend yet—and he probably never would be. Joel was. Was he? No he was your dad.

“Guys like Dean…they mean trouble for girls like you. Gonna take a bite out of your heart before spitting it back out. Ya understand?”

“I…I don’t think so, uncle Tommy…”, you truthfully said.

Tommy leaned back and looked up at the night-sky, thinking of the right words. He turned his attention back at you. “M’tryin to say is, you are a pretty girl. That’s all guys like Dean care about. You give him a bit of yourself and he will expect more and more, until you’re left with nothin more to give. That’s when he gets bored of you and leaves.”

Your eyes widened at Tommys cryptic message. What he was trying to say is “if you let him fuck you, he will not be interested in you any more”—but that would be to harsh for you to hear.

You couldn’t help yourself but think…Will Joel get bored of me too?

You kept quiet, biting your lip. Not sure what to say.

“Maybe I should tell my brother about this, about Dean...”, he suddenly said and making every alarm bell inside your head ring. “That Dean kid is bad blood. Joel should scare him a little, make him understand that he shouldn’t break ya heart.”

You grabbed his arm and frantically shook your head. “No, no, no! Uncle Tommy, please don’t! Joel will kill him.”

“Sounds just about right to me .”, he chuckled.

“No, you don’t understand. He will also punish me. I’m not allowed to see boys. He thinks I’m at Anna’s birthday party. He will be very, very angry with me. I don’t want him to be angry with me. Please you don’t understand, uncle Tommy.”

Tommy was studying your reaction closely. Oh he did understand.

“You really don’t want me to tell him?”, he asked, playing dumb.

“Yes, please don’t. I’ll do anything.”, you nodded. “I’ll bake you the carrot cake you like so much!”

“What if I want something else?”, he asked voice suddenly lower, his eyes darker.

He sounded much more like Joel now.

You frowned, not understanding. “You want me to bake you another cake?”

“Close. I do want something sweet from you.”

“Something sweet?”, you repeated still confused about what exactly he wanted “Like…chocolate?”

“Ya can’t be this dumb, sweetheart...”, Tommy chuckled.

You opened your mouth, but closed it immediately.

Dumb?

Tommy never called you dumb before.

“…Or should I say ‘slut’?”

That answered the question you had earlier; he did indeed heard everything you said to Dean…

You wished to drop dead on the spot, feeling utterly embarrassed.

You seriously didn’t know what to say. You just looked down and swallowed the wave of emotions down that were otherwise going to burst out of you in form of a mental breakdown.

“I’ll go home now.”, you whispered, when you found your strength to speak again. You stayed seated though, not making the move to stand up and go, as if you were waiting for Tommys permission—Something told you that he wouldn’t let you off the hook this easy.

He nodded and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

“I’ll bring you home…after you’ve convinced me not to tell Joel about the fact that his girl begs strange guys to treat her like a common whore. Wonder how he will take that...”

Tommys soft tone didn’t fit his vile words.

You could feel yourself shutting down—this happened a lot at the early stages of being with Joel, after he had brutally killed your father in front of your eyes and forced you to be with him, to act like everything was totally fine. You stared into the void, not willing to acknowledge the level of betrayal you were experiencing right now. He was blackmailing you.

You liked Tommy.

He was one of the good guys.

Tommy looked at you intensely, analysing your soft features. There was a war going on inside your confused little head, he could see.

He had always wondered how you still look this stunning during the end of times while everyone else’s looked like they been through the gutter. Even on the day you and Joel arrived at Jackson for the first time after a year of living in the wilderness that was now the whole country—you still looked like an angel. Joel did a good job of taking care of you, Tommy had to admit.

Tommy admired your devotion towards his older brother. The way you would look up at him, as if he was your god. Always searching for his approval, his affection, his permission. Joel was a cold bastard, leaving you empty and starved.

Or maybe he was just smart really, since you couldn’t get enough of him no matter what.

And when Joel introduced you to him that day, your pretty eyes lit up with excitement. Uncle Tommy, you called him, even though you were not the same blood. You called him that out of respect for Joel.

Tommy wasn’t stupid. He could see right through Joel’s facade of protective-father. Tommy was his brother after all. He could tell that Joel’s liking in you wasn’t of…innocent nature. Quite the opposite. It was much, much darker. He always knew. Your dynamics always seemed a little off to him. Joel hadn’t even looked at another women since he was in Jackson—he had no need to. He had you.

Tommys suspicion was confirmed when one day he saw Joel touching your ass. It was a few month ago at Christmas dinner. You were standing in front of the sink—washing dishes like the little slave you were for Joel—when suddenly he walked up to you, seemingly to bring you more plates to wash, when his hand grabbed a fistful of your soft ass, so tight his knuckles turned white—and you didn’t objected.

At first Tommy was angry. Disgusted even. Joel was like your fucking father. You called him “dad”, for fucks sake. It was disgusting, vile and wrong.

But then Tommy felt stupid for not putting one and one together much earlier. Why else would a guy like Joel take care of a girl that wasn’t even his own blood? What did he get out from feeding another mouth? What was his merit? What could a girl like you possibly give to a man like him that he wasn’t able to get for himself?

The answer was so obvious.

Tommy heaved himself up from the bench and let his eyes wander over the era, looking out for potential witnesses…

“Ya’got two options, sweetheart.”, he started. “First option; we go home and I tell my brother what just happened between you and Mr Bombshell. The kid will die most likely tomorrow on patrol and Joel will not let you out if his eyesight for the rest of your life. Second option…”

He looked down at your bare legs and licked his lips.

“You stand up, turn around and bend over…”

He paused for a second. “S’up to you.”

„Second.“, you whispered, you didn’t even need time to think about your answer—not that you where thinking anything at all right now. Your mind was blank.

There was nothing that Tommy could do to you, that Joel hadn’t already done. You feared Joel more. The answer was easy. Second option.

You hadn’t even realised that you got up, turned around and bend over. Holding onto the back of the bench tightly.

It was only when you felt Tommy lift your skirt up and your bottom was exposed to the cold night and Tommys hungry stare that you realised that there was no turning back.

You couldn’t see what Tommy was doing behind you, and a part of you was thankful for that; at least you didn’t have to look him in the eyes.

Tommy pulled his cock out. He was hard the second he heard you beg Dean to call you a slut. He gave himself a few pumps and then lined his cock up with your entrance. He wasted no time, immediately ramming all of him inside your juicy cunt.

Dean had worked you up good for him.

The invasion was sudden and forceful. You whined and your knees buckled. You clenched your teeth together.

Tommy started to fuck you the second he was in, leaving your body no time to adjust to his length. He was fucking your hard and fast. He was holding onto your petite shoulders tightly, hurting your flesh and bringing your body down to his in a forceful manner.

The sound of clapping skin was loud and sinful. It sounded so wrong in your ears. And it only got worse when Tommy started to grunt like an animal.

„Shit, girl. Never fucked a cunt as tight as yours.“, he hissed. „Fuck.“

You started to cry. Not because you were in pain, but because you were about to cum…

„Stop please.“, you cried. You didn’t want to cum. Not for Tommy. You didn’t want him to think you enjoyed his assault.

“Your body is betraying you. You like it.”, you remember Joel say to you the first time he took you against your will.

This isn’t normal. I’m not normal. I’m sick. I’m a sick girl.

You started to cry even harder, or were you moaning?It was a mixture of both and it was pathetic. Your were so close. You cunt got even tighter around Tommy. He could feel it.

“You wanna cum little slut?”, he laughed, a nasty dirty laugh. He gave your ass a hard slap.

“No!”, you cried out. “Please stop!”

It wasn’t your fault. You were wet since Joel had fucked your throat earlier today and left you on the ground sexually frustrated. Then there was Dean who had spend minutes fingering you while kissing your neck. It wasn’t because of Tommy.

It’s not because of Tommy.

It’s not because of Tommy.

It’s not because of Tommy.

The more you tried to work against it, the pressure inside you only intensified. You couldn’t hold it out any longer.

You came.

You came around his cock.

First your legs started to shake—it was like a wave—then your whole body. Your thoughts were completely flushed away. Your were biting your lip so hard that you could taste blood on your tongue.

“That’s my girl.”, Tommy praised and kept fucking you hard. “God, you are so hot, sweetheart. I see why Joel keeps you around.”

After you came down from your orgasm you were basically jelly. Without Tommy holding you in place you would be panting on the ground by now. He kept ramming his cock inside you a few more times before pulling out.

He turned you around and manhandled you on your knees.

“Hold your palms out, bitch. C’mon.”, he barked and grabbed your wrist and yanked them up.

You put your palms together and held them up.

He frantically stroked his cock while grunting and growling like a wolf before finally releasing himself inside your hands.

A poodle of your uncles warm, sticky, hot cum could now be found inside your shaking hands. You didn’t dare to drop it. You didn’t move, holding your palms up as if his cum was holy.

The tears had dried on your face. You looked up at Tommy, waiting for him to finally end your suffering.

You wanted to run home.

He put his cock back inside his jeans and pulled out a cigarette. Exhausted.

“Eat it.”, he said and pointed his cigarette at his cum.

He wanted to see how far he could go with you. He wanted to know how well his brother had trained you.

“C’mon, eat it up.”, he repeated when he saw your confused face.

You hesitantly brought your shaking hands closer to your lips. If you had anything in your stomach right now, you would’ve puked it all out. You carefully took a small lick from his cum and cringed a little. It was salty. But soon you found the taste to be familiar. It tasted like Joel’s.

“Be careful not to drop anythin. We don’t want Joel to find cum on you, do we? He might think it belongs to Dean…”

You shook your head and carefully licked your palms clean. Eating your uncles cum.

Tommy watched you intensely. You looked like a little kitten drinking her milk. He was already hard again. He would definitely think about this image of you when he would fuck his wife later tonight.

“Good job, sweetheart.”, he praised you. “Now C’mon. Let’s get’ya home. And you better thing about an excuse why you look like someone had fucked you silly…we don’t want Joel to get suspicious.”

He pointed at you puffy red eyes and ran down mascara.

He helped you up from the ground and you silently followed him home.

————

[3rdvoice]

Maybe I start mirroring the Letter Column here??

Hi Evan, I have been reading your work for years–I came in right at the end of Rice Boy and read Order of Tales and Vattu every MWF from beginning to end. And then I got a new phone and didn’t reinstall my feed reader and was dismayed/delighted to find I’d gone for nine dang months and didn’t even know 3rd Voice existed! I’m just now catching up, really enjoying the comic, and appreciating the space you’re creating around it. To my question/pondering: the way the information gets parceled out to readers is both one of the most compelling and frustrating things to me about narrative. I see with 3rd Voice you are leaning heavily on show-don’t-tell, rather than the ponderous info dumps that plague a lot of science fiction and fantasy. The trade-off for making a better story and more believable characters is that there’s a lot we don’t know as readers. Some of what we don’t know is known by the characters (such as what "new person" means in their social context), some is not known by them (such as the existential knowledge that Navichet is seeking), and some is a mix (like Spondule and Navichet’s backgrounds that they don’t disclose to one another—or us). For you as a storyteller, how important is the revelation of knowledge in the creation of the story? Do you see 3rd Voice relying a lot on the revelation of knowledge as a way of wrapping up the story arc(s), or is there just a lot of stuff that the reader is never going to know and you’re OK with that? I don’t have strong feelings either way; just seeing you work with this in a bit of a different way and I’m curious about your thoughts. Thank you, Emily * October 2, 2023

Firstly thank you for the comment on the “space I’m creating around” 3V; I am not exactly sure what you mean but maybe I do and maybe would like to know exactly what you mean.

This parceling-of-information has become an absolutely central part of how I look at invented-world fiction; I started nailing down certain principles (all extending basically from show-don’t-tell) years ago and am trying to still work with them as smart as possible. Vattu is built with the same approach in mind! A solution in that comic to the problem of avoiding Explaining is to keep things fairly simple, iconic, self-explanatory. 3V can foreground these questions of “what the world is” a little more comfortably I think because of Spondule & Navichet’s relationship to it, and because of it being a kind of Broken place with bigger questions therefore automatically implied.

I guess mostly I want to emphasize that the details of the setting and how everything fits together isn’t necessarily what the Story is About, and the disorientation built into this sort of storytelling is something that I’m aware of and that I think is Fun. So I mean a lot of the bigger stuff has been Figured Out / is being Figured Out on my end, BUuuuut there is a reason that I am telling the story from the point of view of two marginal idiots. This I guess connects to what I was saying in a previous lettercol about “Spondule writing” and “Navichet writing” in my process for this thing…

To your specific questions, “revelation of knowledge” is as important as the knowledge itself-- this is a central principle to me at this point. Storytelling to me is entirely a structure of knowledge-revealing. And there will be unanswered questions forever but I’m not sure how many exactly and that’s life I guess lol. thank u so much for thoughtful thoughts!! I can’t believe you have been reading this stuff since rice boy days!!!

[bedlamsbard]

Tagged by @windona!

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I genuinely have no idea, it was too long ago. (2001/2002)

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

I've dabbled in a number of fandoms, but my big three have been the MCU, Star Wars, and Narnia, with a reasonable amount of writing time in BSG, CSI:NY, Miracle, and HP, and there have been bits and bobs elsewhere, sometimes as crossovers, sometimes not. (I actually used to do a lot of crossovers.)

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

SOME. probably like 22.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Write. By and large I don't read in my writing fandoms, and since I'm pretty monofannish in general, it means I don't tend to read much fanfic anymore. I'll occasionally go down rabbit holes of old fandoms or occasionally particular authors (I went down a Smallville rabbit hole about a month ago), but these days I don't read much. My reading fandoms have tended to be fandoms that I was familiar with but wasn't inclined to write in back in the day (10-15 years ago), and I don't really pick up new reading fandoms these days for whatever reason. The MCU was one of my longest-running reading fandoms and it messes me up that I can't read in it anymore, because it's now a writing fandom, and all the stuff I used to be able to read pings as wrong to my brain.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

Execution and discipline. I have always been a cast of thousands/complex plot writer, but for a long time I just didn't really have the skill level to execute it really well -- Dust in the Air is the most dramatic example. Part of it is also that I didn't really know when to rein myself in, and that's something I've worked really hard on. (Even Gambit's guilty of this, though by that point I was better at it.) I'm a lot better now at not only knowing what can be done but actually, you know, doing it.

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I've researched some unbelievably weird stuff, I don't know what counts as weird anymore. Most of it has been for the MCU, since that's real world (give or take) and I try to be as accurate as possible, especially with something like Home where it's historical. Like, I looked up boxed cereal the other day to figure out when it had been invented, pre or post WWII. (Pre, but the idea of it as a kids' breakfast came post.) I've looked up so much about WWII-era engagement rings. The infamous "WWII essentially invented the men's wedding ring" thing. So much spy stuff. (I'm haunted by the fact that there's an inaccuracy in Home because I didn't realize at least one term was Cold War era and wasn't used in WWII.) Everything about special operations and spies in WWII was more batshit than the last thing. I watched WWII hand-to-hand combat training videos so that Peggy's fighting style would be 1940s-appropriate vs. 2010s-appropriate. I dug through online archives of newspaper headlines for the exact dates of the events in Home (those are almost all real headlines!). I went through War Department ID cards so that Natasha's would be more or less accurate. For Horizon I spent so, so long looking at summer of 2020 photos and blog posts so I could get the post-apocalyptic deserted Midtown vibe just right. (Also, like, horrifying that that's a thing you can just look up since we lived through it!) I watched escalator videos of people riding the escalator up from Grand Central into the MetLife building so that the scene of the Avengers going up the escalator in Stark Tower would be accurate. I looked up elevator enthusiast blogs to figure out how the Stark Tower elevators were likely to work. I went and walked around my own campus to plot out the geography and choreography of the Atlanta fight in Horizon, and then looked up pictures of the dorm rooms in the building where Natasha and the Hulk-Widow fight so that the furniture would be accurate. (Couldn't get into the actual building and the way it's laid out I couldn't look in the windows, even when it was empty for summer.)

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

Thoughtful ones about the details of the story, whether those are plot details or character details -- the "I never thought about it before, but of course Steve drowned" or the effect that the characters have on the environment or the characters around them, or the "wait, is this the thing from XYZ?" kind of comments.

I have a policy of not responding to comments unless they're direct questions, and sometimes not even then, but I do read all of them.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

buddy I write Infinity War AUs in one of the biggest IPs in the world, I'm not sure what in here is fringe. lol.

that aside, I don't think I've seen another fic writer who's as interested as I am in dealing with the post-Snap period. I'm sure they're out there, I obviously can't read in this fandom anymore, but this is the period of the MCU I'm most interested in and it doesn't seem to be a really common one. (which is kind of understandable post-2020, tbh, but Horizon was my way of dealing with all of that.)

uh, less macro than that -- probably the most fringe topic is my intense interest in worldbuilding Asgardian law, particularly vis a vis inheritance.

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I can't write short fic so I don't even try.

10. What is the easiest type?

"Easy" isn't really the best word here, but my default is 80-350K complex plot with a cast of thousands and intense relationship between 2-3 of the main characters. A long time ago I trained myself into being able to come up with long-form plot relatively easily, which is a great life skill if you want to write long-form plot, which I do. That is my default, which is why it's the easiest; aside from concept writing it's the only thing I write, and the concept writing is me playing with whether I should get to this point.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I am a Microsoft Word purist; I do it exclusively on my laptop, at home unless I'm traveling. I used to write on campus a lot; I don't do it anymore, though there are various reasons for that.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

The honest answer is the third Ouroboros story, All Along the Watchtower, which I did get scared out of writing years ago. Would I love it to be written? Yes. Is it likely to ever happen? No. The other, similar answer, is the rewrite of the Dust in the Air, which kind of hits the "intimidation" point because I would have to completely rewrite it. Would I love to do that? Sure. Is it going to ever happen? Probably not. Anything I write I expect to spend a couple of years on, so if I get intimidated out of it, it's simply not going to happen.

13. What made you choose your username?

I have been bedlamsbard for many many years -- the name comes from Mercedes Lackey's Bedlam's Bard series, which I was very fond of at the time. (I was also a flute player at the time, like Eric Banyon.) IIRC, I was also trying to figure out what would be symphonic enough to be memorable, especially because this was back in the days when your username was your name, it almost never changed. The double B in Bedlamsbard followed a few other well-known fen who had similar patterns. It doesn't seem to be common anymore. (There are one or two places on the internet where I still have a pre-Bedlam username, and I have another username I use when I don't necessarily want my fannish username associated because my real name is attached.)

I don't tag people, but go for if you like!

[wildannise]

About Hazelwood Hollow

I'm a queer artist. I've posted previously mostly on Instagram, as @ witchhazel_draws, but I'm becoming more and more invested in finding alt platforms to post on. I don't really share about myself or my life much - I value my privacy and the privacy of my loved ones. So the main thing I post about is artwork for a fantasy story I'm writing, so I thought I'd share about that.

The story is tentatively called Hazelwood Hollow and is mostly inspired by period films I watched as a child, particularly Jane Austen films, Charles Dickens miniseries, the original Newsies film, and an obscure adaptation of les miserables without music.

My story is essentially a bildungsroman/coming of age story set in a pseudo-victorian society with magic and witches. It begins much like David Copperfield with a young amab protagonist who lives isolated in a rural setting with a hated father figure and a beloved mother, and ends up as a child laborer in a city factory - but after hitting rock bottom the young protagonist comes out as a trans woman and names herself Artemis and moves to a cottage in the country with a group of witches and becomes a cottagecore lesbian. The only catch is that magic is pointlessly gendered in this society and "boys" aren't allowed to be witches. And people from Artemis's childhood who have become powerful in this society are intent on finding her, and so harsh reality breaks in on this idyllic fantasy. She and he found family seek shelter among a colony of witch witch outlaws and pirates who are plotting a revolution against the largely non- magic government.

The story is very interested in exploring how power dynamics exists within societies and how even literal witches with magic powers could be held back by unfair power dynamics on a broad social level. A big aspect of the premise is "what if witch hunters stopped trying to hunt down and kill witches and instead exploited them for their labor?" The story is also about how gender is constructed and enforced, and why gendered magic systems are flawed and unrealistic.

A big piece of lore within the story is the history and origin of two alchemical metals that the non magic government uses to regulate witches: witch-silver that can be used to make potent magic weapons originally used to hunt down witches, and witch-iron that negates magic in its vicinity and can permanently strip a witch of magic, used to hold witch prisoners (though it is witches who work for the goverment who actually capture witch criminals these days). These 2 metals are not just useful to the heirarchy, they are central to cultural ideologies. They are considered to represent the masculine and feminine energies of the universe itself and be the basis for all matter.

Magic is coded as feminine in this universe and regarded as submitting to the raw powers of nature - a thing considered dangerous and leading easily to corruption. The common belief is that "men" are naturally without magic so that they can guide, control, and contain the wild and corruptible magic of "women." In truth, magic is simply rarer in male identifying people, but this is only true since witch iron was discovered a few thousand years ago - due to complex factors that are explored in the story. And all magic is rarer since then in general, too. But magic can be found in any gender and cultivated to a potent level in most people who show interest in it. All of which are things the rebels in the story explore and discuss and which drives them to rebel against the powers that be. My protagonist gets caught up on it all and comes to have a more complex and nuanced understanding of the world, but one that drives them to also become a revolutionary alongside them.

Here's some art of Artemis, who becomes a potion witch after coming out as trans.

And here's her love interest and eventual partner, Juniper Gardner, a plant witch. And here's also the cottage they live in with Juniper's older sister and a couple others.

The cottage is called Hazelwood Hollow (HH), which is where the name of the story comes from. For much of the later story Artemis sees HH as the ultimate goal: the opportunity to get back to her idyllic life that she had before... with everything going back to the way things were. But by the end of the story she becomes less invested in the actual cottage and more invested in the community and sense of belonging she found there and wishes to bring that kind of happiness to all members of society - esp when the revolution proves less effective in the long run, she and her partner and found family use their cottage and resources to support trans youth and witches in societies that are still hostile to magic.

[alovelettertonow]

It is 10:39 PM. It is incredibly humid outside, amplifying the smells of cow manure by 1000x. While this condition is not ideal, the vapor-saturated air also brings out the delicious smell of our local chocolate factory and the sweet aroma of the apple orchard that everyone in my small central Pennsylvania town is welcome to enjoy. It is difficult to imagine that, in just 70 days, I will be moving away from the charming town I grew up in, where cows outnumber people, and the locals indulge in ‘garage parties’- the practice of setting up lawn chairs in your garage in the late evening, when the heat has finally subsided, and inviting everyone within a 5-mile radius to stop by and have a beer. In 2 months, I will be saying ‘goodbye’ to my part-time position at the local retirement home and moving to a quaint liberal arts college in New England. At first glance, the environments of these two places that I will call ‘home’ are completely different and incompatible. My home-town- extremely conservative with wide swaths of farmland and lovingly coined the “Amish capital of the world” , versus my college town- a very, very progressive, mountainous region with many cultural events and arts performances. They epitomize the difference between a “small-town” feel and a “college-town” feel. Hopefully, after being there for a few months, I will come to realize that they are not so different. And, if they are different, maybe that’s okay. My goals as I begin this blog are varied and many. First, I want to get better at writing. I have an extremely difficult time articulating my thoughts. I figure that making a coordinated effort to write might improve my skills, so I feel on-track when I begin my first semester of college. While I attempted to write in a google doc, I found I wasn’t able to hold myself accountable, and that perhaps posting on a public forum would be helpful. Next, my difficulty with articulating my thoughts, unfortunately, lead to a certain dependence on Chat GPT, undoubtedly making my writing worse that it had been before I discovered that God-forsaken app. Reason 3- I just got a new computer for college, and the keyboard is huge. I need to practice writing on a keyboard that is 1.5x wider than what I’m used to. Finally, I wanted to blog so I could share my life, give advice, get advice, and stay in touch with those at home who are interested. I know many bloggers have a certain “genre” that they stick to- they might comment on the news, spirituality, or they may even share recipes. Maybe one day I will think of a genre, but I think for now, I’ll just share about my life. Let’s start with today.

I woke up this morning at 5:15 so I could get to my 6:15 shift. Anxiety will likely be a topic I touch on quite frequently. The thought of dishing out grapefruit and prunes in the morning nearly sent me over the edge, and I couldn’t sleep. To be fair, I am a new employee- I started about 3 weeks ago. Each “number” on the schedule has different job duties, and I had never done those duties before… how was I supposed to know how many grapefruit sections to put into a dish???? It’s three. As expected, everything was just fine, although I accidentally interrupted a table while they were in the middle of praying. Sorry! I really love my job so far, and I can only hope that I keep enjoying it. When I got home, I was determined to read a good section my book, but I ended up napping. Trying to enjoy the little things that make me human. Listening to country music on the car ride home because something about the heat makes me crave a southern twang. Rushing up to my room right as I get home so I can turn on my AC and hope it cools down my room in time for bed. Sitting on the back porch with a cozy blanket, even though it is a bit too hot for that. Seeing the firefly’s twinkle in the backyard and pretending not to notice my neighbors moving around outside. Making plans with friends now that we are finally free. I am in love with life.

Today, my best friend gifted me this plush for my dorm room. His name is Apollo. ☀️

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

0.1 kronos ate the kids

warnings : kronos... eating his kids

word count : 3.7k

0.1 kronos ate the kids... yummy ( ? )

-- sixteen years later

In the absence of the sun, the day could've been observed as night as dark storm clouds gathered overhead. I was glad I'd checked the weather before getting on my motorcycle— I would just barely miss getting caught in the storm.

Normally, in New York City, you only drove yourself places if you were one of two things: rich or stupid (although, to be honest, it's astounding how often those two things coincide). The traffic of Manhattan is unbearable, but if you're that much of a show off, and you really want people looking at your car, you drive. However, while I did fall under the "rich" category (thank you random casting agent in Central Park when I was 2... I guess?), I wasn't driving because I wanted people to see the Harley my mom had gotten me for my 16th birthday the August before. Being entirely honest, I just needed a break, and sometimes yelling at people about how awful their driving is can be very therapeutic. 

But the clouds unsettled me in a way that I couldn't explain. A way that had me shuffling on my Harley and shifting my weight much more than my ADHD would normally have made me do. The weather had been off since I'd come back from Philly in December, so I was almost used to it at that point, but it was like a sandbag had burst open in the pit of my stomach, letting all of the particles of sand spill out, every time I looked up at the sky. 

Still, there was no use complaining about the weather. If anything, I should've been complaining about the fact that I was still in the exact same spot I was ten minutes ago. Sometimes the City That Never Sleeps is really a pain in the ass. 

Danny was going to give me a real hard talking to if I was late for this field trip. It was supposed to be to some Greek and Roman history museum in Brooklyn, but most people weren't going to learn— they were going because it got them out of class. We only had a few weeks left of school, but Christ if we all didn't want the year to end sooner rather than later. And Danny only wanted me to go because of a role I'd recently gotten playing a Spartan queen, Aerlla, as though me knowing more about Greek mythology was going to win me another Oscar. 

I gave a sigh of relief as my next few turns weren't nearly as crowded. A bit of the traffic finally thinned out, so getting to school was much less difficult. Technically, with it being a boarding school and all, we weren't allowed to have our cars here. They figured we'd all try to leave and never come back if that were the case. It was only with a little extra money that I was allowed to be able to travel. No one else really got that privilege. 

Luck seemed to be on my side that day and I got back to the school just as they were loading the bus for us to go on our senior's (which was a whole story in and of itself, as I was supposed to be a sophomore. Thank God for online classes) end of the year field trip. While it might be the most boring thing you've ever heard of (yes, I thought that at first, too), Mr. Brunner, the coolest teacher I've ever had, was supposed to be chaperoning all of us. 

My luck ran out right after that, though, once I noticed our other chaperone was my insufferable AP calculus teacher from Georgia. She came to our school right after our first calc teacher had a nervous breakdown. She always wore a faux leather jacket and, although she was fifty, she looked like she'd drive my Harley into someone's locker whenever she wanted. 

"Allie, there you are! I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it on time," my friend, Grover, called as soon as I took my helmet off. I saw Mr. Brunner check my name off of the roll call list from beside Grover.

Grimacing as I realized I wouldn't have time to run by my room to put my helmet up and therefore would have to take it with me, I replied, "We wouldn't be in New York if I wasn't almost late."

We both boarded the bus, Mr. Brunner giving me a small smile as I passed, and luckily got a seat together. Much to my chagrin, however, it was right in front of the resident douche and pain in the ass himself: Nathan Bobofit. He gave me a gross smile and I could only just keep myself from getting up and bolting as the bus started moving. 

My teeth clenched together as Nathan reached around the back of my seat to grab my arm. "C'mon, Jackson, my lap's a whole lot more comfortable than sitting next to that weirdo."

I jerked my arm out of his hand as he tried pulling me up. "Don't fucking touch me," I snapped scathingly as I tried scooting as far away from him as I could. 

I'd had my share of rejecting him, but God if he wasn't persistent. And gross. Really, really gross. It was sad to say, but I was used to it. People on the internet don't exactly hold back either. And being an actress and model with a big following... yeah, not the best mix. People are creepy, I've learned that lesson many times. 

"I'm gonna fucking kill him this time. I swear to God, I'm not kidding," I grumbled as I felt Nathan's knee pressing into my seat, just enough for me to be able to feel. 

"Don't. Allie, these are the last few weeks you have to be in high school. If you get expelled now, you won't be able to go to Columbia next year and you'll be repeating your senior year at a different school. Just get through this, a few more weeks, and you're in the clear," Grover warned me. I huffed and leaned back, grumbling a 'whatever' to keep him satisfied. 

To be fair, he was right. Danny, my manager, would've been pissed at me if I managed to get expelled in my last semester of high school. He'd already done so much so I could graduate early and figure out a schedule for me to be able to go to some classes in person and finish the rest online. With how much time and effort he'd put into helping me get a good education, I'd hate to throw it all away because I couldn't keep my temper in check. 

And I'd hate for TMZ and all the other awful news outlets to get word of me having got expelled because I fought someone. God, I shudder to think of the fire that the media would light under my ass. Though, I thought, maybe if they figured out why, at least Twitter would be on my side. 

I was happy the trip was fairly short. I could only go so long ignoring the painfully obvious and gross comments about my body by the boys behind me. Grover and one of my cheerleader friends, Ivy, made sure they got directly behind me so Nathan couldn't. He'd been known to try things when left behind me and today I'd made a mistake by wearing a skirt. As we unloaded the bus, Mr. Brunner got us checked in and led the museum tour. 

Mr. Brunner was your average middle-aged guy, except for the wheelchair he had to be in wherever he went. It was a well-known joke for everyone around the school to try and guess why he had to use it. As far as we knew, no one was correct. Mainly because no one has enough courage to ask him. Popular theory was that he got stabbed during one of his sword demonstrations and accidentally got hurt. 

He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery. It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for over two thousand or three thousand years. 

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top and us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, Mrs. Dodds would give me the evil eye.

Finally, I got fed up, my patience run too thin, and I snapped, "will you shut up?" at Nathan, the loudest of them all. And though I had turned towards Nathan, Mr. Brunner had stopped talking and I could tell he was looking directly at me. I could also hear a few stifled giggles coming for the rest of the senior class. 

"Miss Jackson, did you have a comment?" I turned back towards him and noticed his amused expression. 

"No, sir," I replied, trying to keep a blush from coming to my face. 

"Do you mind telling us what this picture represents?" He asked, gesturing towards a carving right beside him. I let out an internal breath of relief. Thank God it was something I recognized. 

"That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," he frowned, and I knew he was going to ask for a better explanation. "And he did this because..."

"Kronos was the King of the Titans and he didn't trust his kids, the gods, because there was a prophecy he heard that said they would overthrow him and lead the world themselves. So he ate them. Except, his wife, Rhea hid baby Zeus and gave Kronos and rock dressed in baby clothes to eat instead. Once Zeus grew up, Rhea gave Kronos a mixture of wine and mustard so he would throw up the rest of his children." There were a few disgusted outbursts at this. "Since they were immortal, they had been growing in Kronos' stomach the same way they would have. So then there was a long war between the gods and the titans and the gods ended up winning." 

I heard a scoff from beside me. "This is so stupid. It's not like our job applications are gonna have 'why did Kronos eat his children' as a question you have to answer correctly to get hired," Nathan stage whispered to his friends. They snickered in response. 

"And why, Miss Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "to paraphrase Mr. Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?" 

I sighed and racked my brain for at least a semi-logical explanation, because truthfully, I couldn't think of one. "There's always something that you can learn from history and myths passed down by generations. By listening to the stories, you can ensure you won't make the same mistakes— in this case, you learn not to let your own paranoia control you?" 

He tilted his head as if debating whether or not my answer satisfied what he was looking for. He finally came to a conclusion. "Not quite the answer I was looking for, but full credit all the same. Your explanation was wonderfully done, Miss Jackson. After Kronos' children were released from his stomach, the gods teamed up together to overthrow their father. And they did so by cutting him into little pieces with his own scythe. Now on that happy note, Mrs. Dodds, could you escort us outside for lunch?"

I speed-walked out of there, Grover in tow, before Mr. Brunner could call me back in. If he needed to say something super important he could tell me outside, but I wasn't in the mood to get lectured right at that moment. 

We all gathered in various groups on the steps of the museum. We were positioned in a way that would allow us to watch the traffic on Fifth Avenue. The weather still worried me as the clouds had only gotten darker, but I forced myself to ignore it once I noticed no one else was paying attention to it. 

Most of the girls were gossiping in groups, most likely talking about how Gabby hooked up with a boy in our class, Tate Dare. I'd heard the story a million times— I didn't need the story again. 

Being famous did have one major perk: everyone wanted to be my friend, which in turn allowed me to know all of the school's gossip before almost everyone else. The boys were trying— and failing— to pickpocket a few tourists who'd stopped in front of the museum to take pictures. Of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing. 

I threw my head to the side, a gesture telling Grover to follow me to the fountain a little ways away, trying very hard to make it seem like we weren't part of the slightly-psycho group of teens. 

"Since you're my main source of news, what's going on school-wise?" Grover asked me once we'd gotten comfortable on the fountain. 

I shrugged. "Gabby, you know— the Gabriella who's on the cheer team with me— hooked up with Tate Dare. Lindsay Greene might be getting suspended for vaping in the bathrooms, but that's up in the air right now considering her daddy's a teacher. Uh... oh! Victor Ryles failed a drug test, so he can't try out for any sports next year. That's it, I think?" 

"Why do you know all of this? And can I have your apple?" 

I handed it to him and smirked. "Most people like me— well, they like my 'status' at the very least. If I want to know the gossip, they give me the gossip." 

Grover and I laughed and he was about to say something else but was cut off by Nathan 'tripping' over a crack in the sidewalk and tossing his food right on Gover's lap. 

"Oops. I got a little distracted by your beautiful eyes, Allie," he said in a faux British accent, his friends snickering behind him. 

The look on his face just made me angrier and he reached out to touch my face, but never got the chance. One moment he was in front of me, the next he was sitting on his ass in the fountain, spitting out water and a few coins. The weirdest part was the whispers. 

"Did you see—"

"— The water—"

"— Like it grabbed him!"

I clenched my teeth as I glared at him. I would've loved to say something super badass, and the words were on the tip of my tongue, but a strong grip on my arm kept me from saying it. I turned my glare to Mrs. Dodds, who was staring at me with the most triumphant expression. She looked as if she'd been waiting for this moment all semester. 

"Now, honey—" she said, using the nickname that never failed to enrage me. 

I rolled my eyes and interrupted her despite the situation I had put myself in. "Oh, whatever! What's my punishment going to be? See how long I can go without eating?" I snapped. 

That apparently wasn't the correct thing to say. The triumphant fire in her eyes only burned brighter. 

"Come with me."

"Wait!" Grover said, trying to force himself in between Mrs. Dodds and me, giving me a why-the-FUCK-would-you-say-something-like-that look. "It was me, I pushed him."

It wasn't the most believable lie in the world, especially considering I had much more muscle than him and it was very obvious he wouldn't have been able to push Nathan into the fountain. 

Because of the roles I'd done, I had to learn a whole bunch of shit I'd never use again, which include, but are not limited to, sword fighting, hitting many bullseyes with a bow and arrow, and lots of hand-to-hand fighting. From the weight training classes I take, I can bench press about 160 pounds, give or take, and cheerleading makes throw myself upside down while spinning. Grover looked like a twig compared to me (still love you, though, Grover). 

"I don't think so. Miss Jackson will come with me, and you can stay right here."

She didn't have to try hard to scare Grover, considering she already terrified him. He gave a small and stiff nod and looked at me petrified. 

"Thanks for trying, G," I whispered. 

He just stood paralyzed and kept glancing between Mr. Brunner and Mrs. Dodds, who was already at the front door. 

Wait, what? How did she get there so fast? I shook my head and walked after her. 

"Don't die in there, Jackson! Me and my friends still want to fuck you before we graduate! How about Thursday?" Nathan yelled at my turned back. 

I turned, gave him my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare and a middle finger, then continued walking. 

At first, I thought she was just going to make me buy Nathan a new t-shirt at the gift shop, but that didn't seem to be the case. Mrs. Dodds kept walking until we'd made it back to the Greek statues and paintings section. 

She crossed her arms with her back turned towards me until I'd gotten close enough. When she turned, I stopped walking. 

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said after a few moments of silence. 

At first, I thought she was mentioning all the random times paparazzi would show up at the front steps of Yancy Acadamy and demand my picture, but something told me that wasn't it. I decided to go for the safest option and chose to be polite. 

"Yes... ma'am?" 

She started making a sound from the back of her throat, almost like growling. She tugged on the cuffs of her jacket. "Did you really think you were going to get away with it?" 

I furrowed my eyebrows. The only thing I could think was, what the hell? The fire grew brighter. She looked beyond mad; she looked evil. "I'll... it won't happen again... ma'am," I shot out, saying the first response that came to mind. 

Thunder shook the building. 

"We aren't fools, Astraea Jackson."

I flinched at the use of my real name. Virtually no one knew it, only my mother, the principal, and my manager. And usually it was because I was in trouble. I didn't like the way it rolled off her tongue. 

"It was only a matter of time before you were caught. Confess to what you've done and I might choose to be merciful."

"Okay, time for a pause. What am I even confessing to? What the hell did I do that was so—"

"Time's up!" 

And with that, she started changing. Her eyes turned red, her fingernails grew into talons, and her leather jacket started melting and turning into wings. 

"Holy shit!" I screamed, scrambling back a few steps as she shot into the air. Thunder rumbled again. 

"Allie!" 

My eyes didn't shift from the winged-bat-creature-thing my calculus teacher had just turned into, but my mind registered that it was Mr. Brunner's voice. I stepped back and turned and barely had a second to catch the sword flying towards me. Once I had it in my hands I turned back towards Mrs. Dodds, who was flying overhead like a vulture. 

Finally, she swooped down for the kill and I got into the stance my instructor made me do thousands of times over. Once she got close, I didn't feel any fear. It's just like a prop, do what you're supposed to and you won't get hit. 

My body did the only thing that came naturally; I swung the sword. 

She'd flown down in the perfect position, and the sword hit her left shoulder and passed through all the way to her right hip. She burst into a yellow powder and vaporized on the spot, leaving only the smell of sulfur and an uneasy vibe in the air. 

I didn't register the sword falling out of my hand, only the overwhelming desire to get back to my group. I felt like throwing up and like an awful migraine was about to hit. 

When the doors were in my sight, I sprinted the rest of the way and almost ripped the doors off their hinges to get out of there. Grover met me halfway down the steps and started to say something, but I just shook my head. I felt like I was about to pass out from the pain in my head, so there was no way I could've explained anything that had just happened to Grover. 

Just as I got off the last step, Nathan intercepted my path. "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your ass, bitch. Would've gotten you prepared for the main course," he said, still dripping from his swim in the fountain. 

I was about to punch his lights out, but a piercing whistle cut through the storm, re-irritating my migraine. I cried out in pain, clutching my head. I settled for shoulder-checking past him, leaving him to follow in Grover and my tracks. 

Mr. Brunner gave me a concerned look as I boarded the bus, but he didn't say anything to me. Once I got to my seat I pulled a Gucci hoodie out of my bag and threw the hood over my head. Grover sat down as I was searching for some ibuprofen. I relaxed as I found it and dry swallowed three pills. 

"You okay, Allie?" 

I shook my head. "Migraine," I muttered and our conversation ended there. The storm raged worse and the entire bus was silent as lightning cracked across the sky and thunder quickly followed.

*    *    *

previous | next

SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS

[onsideramen]

Unsolved Mytheries Lore (Specifically what I made) ((I didn't make all the lore))

OKAY!! I'm bored and sick and it's snowing outside SO !!! All the UM lore I personally created!!! (There's a lot more but I'm only sharing what I made)

CITIES

SUBTERRESTRIAL - Rebel town that lives in the underground. Has their own traditions and is completely different from the surface. Rebel town because they broke away from the black liquid cults hold. They still have some people who contain the liquid in them, and they're currently trying to find a way to get the liquid out. They also have people cursed with it there, who can't get it out no matter what. LOTS OF NEON SIGNS AND STUFF !!!!

SUBTERRESTRIAL: HOLIDAY (They only have one that's different from other holidays)

SUN TRINKET EVE (Reused the name from something else I made an ass time ago on DeviantArt)

Everyone in the town meets in the neon lit central area in the early morning (roughly 6 - 7 am, same time they're schools start), once everyone/mostly everyone is there, the head of the town goes up and retells the story of how their home came to be, and what the sky holes had to do with it, and then goes on about rebelling from the black liquid cult. This lasts for maybe 30 minutes before the festivities begin. Across the entire town there are games for children to play, the games ranging from the most basic of rigged carnival games to the most detailed games not even the elders can figure out how to play. There's also tons of food stands, most run by different families who are hoping to teach their children about the culinary world. There's also fortune telling, though it's not quite as common as the games. The local musicians (singers and choirs included) all go to perform, speakers around the town picking up their music. It's never quite on Sun Trinket Eve. At roughly 9 pm everyone meets back at the neon lit central area to chat for a bit while the top chefs in the town bring dish after dish out for everyone. The food had been prepared all day, and those who work on Sun Trinket Eve are paid 15% more than they usually would be. The entire town feasts, and at 10 pm the dancing starts. The dance lasts until 12 am, and once over, the town bids goodnight to each other, and all go to sleep. Everyone gets the following day off.

2. SECRETOL - A small town built just a bit off the main continent, made to look as if the buildings were floating in water. The town is mostly inhabited by semiaquatic creatures, though is run by the Eliones (Rekison, Lady Bink, Luxor). The town is completely isolated from others, given its location, and due to such everyone residing there speaks a language only known there which is called Leron. Everyone who lives in Secretol has a seafood-based diet, though eating other things such as bird or eggs aren't entirely uncommon. It's all about what's available at the time. The town works under the Eliones rule, and follows many sorts of acts that most would consider to be communism.

OTHER LOCATIONS

QUINS YARD - A long since abandoned graveyard. The reasoning behind its abandonment is majority unknown. The graveyard is rumored to curse those who live there or near it into seeing what they want to see, wish to see, causing the people to die and turn to ghosts, forever stuck in the graveyard until the curse is lifted. Though most people don't go there due to the rumored curse, those that has curse repellents have gone and mapped the landscape and found quite a few relics, ruins, and enchanted objects- all of which are protected by the cursed ghosts.

SPECIES

FELSICATUS - Species of humanoid-cat people. Most are born with some form of magic, though not all. Males tend to have longer and fluffier tails, while females tend to have larger ears. Everyone in the species has retractable claws, toe beans on hands and feet, and a cat-like nose. They can jump higher than most other species and don't tend to take any form of physical harm from falling from heights. Though, that said, if they fall like a flailing pigeon, they'll take more damage. (They have to shampoo and condition their entire body) They have fur over their entire body, but it's not enough to hide their actual skin. It's more so like peach-fuzz, making them fuzzy to touch but still have skin. Added though the tails are completely covered in fur.

2. ERTALIZ - A species of aquatic elf people, they're the same as humans in most ways apart from looks. However, some hold the ability to practice Utazi, which is their form of magic. They usually need a small orb like item to use their Utazi, but some can use it without the orb. The Ertaliz who can use it without the orb are commonly referred to as Magorales, or Mages, to other species. (Utazi: The specific ability to take stars from the sky and use them to create a multitude of things that could help them, such as wings or bows and arrows.) Ertaliz glow in the dark, and tend to have more exotic skin colors, such as blue or gold. Most Ertaliz also wear more cultural attire, such as forms of head dresses and gold stringed ponchos.

[sweetmusingss]

Katie just stood there for a moment, watching you. You never went against her guidance ever before and she knew that you were only doing it because you felt like you had to. Despite the damage control she has had to do in the past, you were a really easy client. None of that was even your fault, either. It was just you being yourself. Hearing how adamant you were about going to see Renee proved to her how serious you really were about her. "Okay.. we'll figure it out then. Just please try to lay low and don't let anyone see you, okay? I will have a car arranged for you when you get there too," she spoke. She had to try to take her manager hat off for a minute and just listen to you as a friend because it was breaking her heart to see you like this. She walks out with you, telling the driver where to drop you off at the airport and getting into the backseat with you. 

I was relieved when Katie didn’t fight me anymore, allowing me to do this which is why she was the best manager. She knew when to be a friend and when to be a manager. We drive to the airport and I hug her, promising her I’d book my return flight and be back in 2 days, no matter what. I keep a low profile, wearing a hat and keeping my head down, getting on the flight at midnight. I was so full of anticipation and anxiety, this being the first time either of us had visited the other unannounced. I landed in NYC at 8:30am, texting Katie that I landed and getting in the car she set up for me. I send the driver into a Starbucks to get me and Renee some drinks, knowing I couldn’t be spotted or papped while here. I carry the drinks and my duffle bag into Renee’s apartment building, the doorman recognizing me and letting me in right away. I get to Renee’s door and realize that this may have been a bad idea. What if she didn’t want me here? What if she wasn’t even home? I knock on her door, looking down at myself, looking ridiculous - I was still in my event dress, a big hoodie, sneakers and a baseball cap I stole from Katie’s husband Sebastian a while ago. I chew my lip as I wait for her to answer, it feeling like years had passed.

__

I smirk against your lips when you kissed me again before I could even say anything, it being my new favorite way to be shut up. I kiss you back just as slowly, keeping my fingers laced into your hair. I couldn't believe that I was making out with you in Central Park but there was no other way I wanted to spend my afternoon. I grip onto your shirt a little possessively after the kiss was broken. "You won't be kissing anyone else but me now so you don't have to worry about it," I smirk at you. "I haven't kissed anyone in a really long time either, though. And I am telling you.. I like this beard," I tease you, stroking your beard gently.

“Oh that’s too bad, I’ll have to cancel the other date I had set up for tonight. I was planing on doing loads of kissing her with.” Seb smirks at you, squeezing your side as you give him a playful glare. “If I’m not kissing anyone else, you can’t kiss anyone else either. I don’t wanna share your kissing abilities with anyone… ever.” Seb hadn’t felt so affected by a kiss in a long time, he usually prided himself on not acting like a teenage boy with raging hormones but you were bringing that side of him out. “You’re a really good kisser. Like really good. Like I don’t really wanna stop?” He keeps his arms wrapped around your waist, not usually being the type for PDA like this but he couldn’t get enough with you right now. “I’ll make sure to keep the beard around just for you.”

[void-does-magick]

Well, this exists. I forgot about this Blog smh.

But. I do have a question to anyone who might know anything.

So, throughout the years I have had, for lack of a better word, 'paranormal' stuff happening. The occasional object being knocked off shelves and such for no reason isn't of much concern to me. They've been helpful at best, like the one who knocked a can off my bookcase to wake me up for an appointment like I had asked to, trying to see if anythig would happen, and annoying or slightly off putting at worst, with open letters being thrown on the floor and scattering.

What if like some help identifying are shadow like beings I've encountered multiple times over the years. They stem from a specific corner in my room and have only ever appeared originating from there. I usually wake up with the sensation of something staring at me at 4-5am and see them just, peeking.

First time I recall was a blob with a shifting amount of eyes of all colors. That one actually slithered up the the edge of my bed and burned itself into the back of my eyes until I managed to fall back asleep.

Second time was a vaguely t shaped thing with uncountable eyes on it that for some reason reminded me of some sort of angel.

A lot of small silhouettes have appeared there without much drama at some point. I do have to mention that there was a point years ago where I kept waking up at 4am from nightmares and often saw them lurking, which made me instead stay up until 4am and then go to sleep so I wouldn't have to deal with either of those, but led to me suffering from sleep deprivation. It lasted about a month, although I only recall it being in winter or autumn at most.

Recently I've had 2 encounters. One where multiple cat-esc blobs with piercing white ring eyes appeared and looked at me for a while until they disappeared after I ignored them and told them to leave for a while. Then about 2 days after a more humanoid figure with the same eyes appeared, accompanied by 2 or so if those blob cats.

I have never found what they may be. But this time even in my dreams I felt how unsettling it became when they appeared. Eventually in the dream itself I went to sleep and saw how scarecrow-like dolls were moved to stare at me from the edge of my bed. I kept moving them away. I only woke up once, in the dream, I realised my voice shifted in a way that made me understand it wanted me to scream with fear. And I refused to give in to that.

Any help identifying what these may be? They're not really harmful but it is a smidge annoying to be woke up by their staring and know that they just want to get a reaction out of me.

Unsure if location matters any for this but I've only ever seen them in central Europe.

I could try to draw them from memory at some point if visuals are needed.

[a-crack-in-the-universe]

My thoughts about the Warrior Bards trilogy

I finished reading the Warrior Bard trilogy a couple days ago, and I have some thoughts that I want to share about the books.

I'm putting this under a read-more because spoilers.

What I liked:

The spy missions. I really enjoyed seeing the Swan Island teams in action and the suspense of not knowing whether they were going to be found out.

Brocc being forced to create a Crow Folk army for Sciath, and his secret plan to deceive her and help the Crow Folk fly home instead. Also Brocc fixing the Crow Folk problem by trying to communicate with and understand the Crow Folk. It reminds me of Finbar's words in Daughter of the Forest, about how they should seek to understand their enemy instead of always fighting them. I do think Finbar would be proud of Brocc and what he achieved.

Brocc and Eirne's baby Niamh, and how much Brocc loves her. :') Also love Conmael's reaction to seeing Niamh (who is potentially his granddaughter) for the first time.

The Sevenwaters references -- I love that Inis Eala is still going strong. I love how Bran's Blade is a thing and how Bran is revered as a strong and compassionate leader long after his death. Also Brocc going into the seer's cave and seeing a reflection that's not his in the water is also a reference that I really love. :')

One thing I thought was strange though was that there was no reference to the Sevenwaters family or the Sevenwaters forest. I get that Juliet Marillier probably wanted Blackthorn and Grim and Warrior Bards to be its own thing separate from the Sevenwaters series, but it's weird that these two trilogies are set in the same world as Sevenwaters and yet Sevenwaters is never mentioned.

What I didn't like:

After book 1, it felt like Liobhan was less proactive in the main plot. Book 2 had her just acting as a bondservant and Dau's personal nurse, and in Book 3 she stays on Swan Island until she and Elka saw that vision in the seer's cave and Liobhan decided to 'break the rules' to rescue Brocc. It was disappointing -- I really liked Liobhan's central role in Book 1 and I'd hoped that she would be given similar focus in the other two books.

There are no lasting consequences. Dau loses his eyesight in Book 2? Don't worry, he gets it back via magic cure by the end of the novel and gets to go back to Swan Island with Liobhan. Liobhan doesn't have to complete the year of bondservice she agreed to because Dau is no longer blind. Liobhan breaks the rules again in Book 3? Don't worry, she's not kicked off the Island because she's too valuable to Swan Island (though she does get a slap on the wrist).

Swan Island's rules. I hate how restrictive they are, and how they limited Liobhan and Dau's potential as characters. Especially the "you must exercise restraint" rule. There were many times in Books 2 and 3 when I wished Liobhan would act out and stop restraining herself so much. Also I wished Liobhan and Dau would leave Swan Island by the end of the trilogy because of the rules and was disappointed when they stayed there.

I hated Eirne a lot. She was such a bitch and treated Brocc badly and it's sad that it took so long for Brocc to see how awful she was. I was so happy when he finally left Eirne's Realm.

Questions I have:

What happened to Sevenwaters? Is the family and keep still around or were they destroyed at some point?

Do the Swan Island community remember Liadan? She isn't mentioned at all when Liobhan is thinking about the history of Bran's Blade and how Swan Island was founded.

When exactly are these books (and the Blackthorn and Grim books) set? How many centuries after the Sevenwaters series? I've tried to come up with a rough timeline based on the kingdoms shown in the books but I haven't been able to figure it out yet.

[evan-algore]

I haven't been active on any pro Ana anything in a while.

I haven't gotten diagnosed with any ED as of now (if I were to self-diagnose; it'd be EDNOS/OSFED) though I'm finally talking about it in therapy.

I haven't acted in any ED related behaviors in a while and the intrusive thoughts are near non existent. It's been almost a year since I've stressed over my meals and I've lost weight from it. Ironically, I expected this. (See; EDNOS/OSFED)

From 10y/o to 19y/o, I stayed between 147lbs and 130lbs despite destroying my digestive system and heart trying to be 118.13lbs (BMI of 18.5) or less. My eating disorder had been such a central part of my adolescence.

I don't know how, but around 2020, I guess I just had bigger fish to fry than my body, or maybe not having lost any real weight over a decade disillusioned me. Mentally; I was at my worst over quarantine and still kinda since so its primarily due to that. Just a temporary shifting of tides realistically.

These days, I struggle to remember the calorie counts of this, that, and the other thing I used to have memorized like gospel. I've been working as a cook at a restaurant for almost 2 years and find myself being able to sample the foods I make without anxiety.

I still had a lot of anxiety when I started the job but it feels like forever ago now.

I'm officially underweight as of a couple days ago. I put on a few gw cloths and I feel nothing. Not gratification nor shame. More like casual acceptance. (I think it was my 3rd gw that was 118.13. I remember it was my ugw up until I was 14y/o)

My mental health is still ass but the personification of ana in my head has since taken on a far more realistic and accommodating character personality.

I've reverted back to my old eating habits in which I easily forget to eat and never seem to be hungry anyway. It always bothered me how this went out the window when I started trying to restrict. (Again, see my assumption on EDNOS/OSFED lol)

Oily and greasy foods have always made me nauseous so that hasn't changed but, otherwise, I have no fear foods anymore. Milk was a fear food but I find myself drinking it as a meal replacement when I don't have an appetite or otherwise can't stomach solid food.

I've finally mentioned it in therapy but, all things considered, it's a low priority. There's still a risk of it coming back (I know that ed's can't just get up and walk away) so it will be addressed soon. It's kinda nice not having to deal with it so I want to make sure it stays that way. It's distressing how much of my day and life revolved around it.

I never expected to be in this position. I don't know how to feel. I was always terrified of being taken off my medication once I got diagnosed with an ed and I'm still terrified of that happening now (I've been taken off them before; long story short, an ed would be the least of my problems). I can only hope I can prove to my doctor's that I'm presently well enough to stay on my regiment and maybe being an adult will allow me more influence on that decision. I may be required to gain weight for that and another reason anyway so even my cw is likely temporary. Regaining the weight may summon my ed back into existence but time will tell.

Time will tell.

I figured I'd post some kind of update even though I didn't get much interaction on this account when I was active. The fact that this account still exists keeps popping up into memory and it feels weird to just leave it as is.

I just changed my bio from; "Male-19-cw:130lbs-hw:152-lw:128-hight: suffer.__I'm mostly posting memes (like my last two deactivated accounts lol) and not much else. I'm also five foot seven lol. I'm not that insane."

Throughout this, I did gain a lot of experience about how ed's tend to work. I'll end this with some advice that made it a little easier to live;

----If the alternative is a feeding tube, just eat something. If it works to threaten your anxiety with a 2k+ calorie feeding tube being shoved down your nose if it doesn't let you eat a can of tuna, do it.

----Eat or drink dairy before purging to neutralize the stomach acid and prevent stomach ulcers and tooth decay.

----Keep safe foods on hand when you can in case the anemia or protein deficiency becomes impossible to ignore.

----However much you'll eat that day, always make sure to eat after a workout, even if it's a small amount.

----Keep some kind of emergency kit somewhere you can reach in the event you can't physically get out of bed or get sick beyond management. (I kept aspirin, vitamins, tuna packets/protein bar, water, and an electric heating pad)

---- Otherwise, have an emergency plan if things go wrong. You know your health and you ed better than anyone else, take advantage of that for the sake of your life.

Listen to your body and take care of it for the long term.

Don't let your ed out-live you.

I don't know exactly what's going on with me or why it is the way it is so please don't think you can do the same one day; I still remember very vividly how powerless I really was to my ed when it was at it's prime.

Stay safe out there. I love y'all.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language, nudity (but, like, for art), and violence Warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, including violence between the shipped pair, leaning heavily into the "enemies" part of "enemies to friends to lovers" Summary: Local vampire discusses art, depictions of certain anatomy, and enjoys the company of her feral soulmate for 4.5 minutes. Then it goes to shit (as things tend to do). 0-60 Real goddamn quick. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly

4: Portraits For Ghosts

“Am I really supposed to just… stay here? Did she honestly think that I, of all people, would behave? The universe gave me two good hands, and by God, I intend to make that someone else’s problem,” you mutter to yourself as you get dressed. It’s not that you necessarily had anything in mind, rather that you hated the idea of waiting around for who knows how long for Cassandra to return. Especially considering what she had done prior to leaving. Sure, you had laughed, but that hadn’t meant much in the end. At this point, you hadn’t even been out of the dungeon for a full day yet, and the memories of what happened there were fresh in your mind. Nightmares, too, even if you had pushed them aside to deal with Cassandra’s. Why did I bother? You wonder, frowning. There was hardly any point to comforting a monster, no matter the way they trembled.

Or at least that’s the lie you sold yourself.

Soon enough, a knock at the door brings you out of your head. Daphne, maybe, you think, remembering the maiden from yesterday. When you open the door, however, you’re met with an unfamiliar woman. She’s a few years your senior, at the very least, and appears surprised to see you. In her hands is a very enticing tray of food.

“Lady Cassandra wanted me to bring this to you. I am… I am glad to see you are feeling better already,” she says, voice shaking. What was with these maidens and assuming you were anything like your soulmate? Though that last part did catch your interest. Something told you that she wasn’t at all referring to your time in the dungeon. If you had learned anything from Daphne, it was that the best way to get information was to be indirect. So you graciously accepted the food, before speaking, dodging your way around your ignorance.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a bit of meditating can do for the soul- and body, that is,” you start, watching closely for any veiled reactions. Even within the first few words you can tell that this stranger wasn’t expecting you to be pleasant. “Out of curiosity, what did my Lady say about my condition? There are, uh, a few details that I hope she did not share. I’m sure you understand.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the maiden is nodding, appearing eager to satisfy you. Maybe a hint of fear can be useful, after all.

“No worries, Lady Cassandra did well to respect your privacy, and we would not dare question her further. She simply explained, to her family, that you were dealing with a migraine. I only heard this because I was helping serve breakfast,” she explained, smiling softly. You’re quick to nod, mimicking her expression for maximum empathy. “Do you require anything else? I am here to serve, you must only ask.” Ah, perfect. Would she have offered this even if you hadn’t attempted to be charming? Probably, but your politeness certainly didn't hurt.

“Well, there is one thing… as long as it’s no trouble.”

---------------------------

It had been a risk, asking the servant to take you to a room you weren’t sure existed, but one that had paid off brilliantly. Even if said room was nothing like you had anticipated. Who would have thought that Cassandra, you think, would be an artist? What’s far less surprising is the fact that the studio (or ‘study’, as you had called it) is a disorganized disaster. Discarded papers lie scattered around an overflowing trash can, a cabinet with an attached tool rack is missing pieces, and in one corner there are literally random shards of broken glass lying about. What is this, performance art? Part of you feels tempted to clean up the mess, if only to occupy your time. Instead, you decide to examine some of the pieces within the room. Maybe somehow they’d tell you something noteworthy about your soulmate.

First, you move to your left, where a workbench houses strange sculptures. For the most part they’re abstract, jagged edges contrasting with gentle curves, but there is one you think you understand. It’s very clearly a bust… of someone’s ‘bust’. Guess that solves the age old question of ‘boobs or ass’, you think, stifling a giggle. Moving on, you shift your attention to the exposed section of the cabinet. One row is dedicated to small vials, each labeled with a concerning ‘blood’, despite the fact that it’s clearly not refrigerated. Still, you have heard of artists painting with blood before, but you seem to recall them mixing it with something else. Perhaps Cassandra had done the same? Though you did wonder if she had any difficulty resisting the urge to drink the blood, at least prior to mixing it.

Shrugging, you continue to the other side of the studio, squatting to get a closer look at the broken glass. As expected, there’s no discernable pattern or purpose. Huh, you think, wonder why she doesn’t clean up. Maybe she’s waiting for a servant to do it? Guessing her reasoning was rather difficult, especially considering your lack of context, such as how long the mess had been here. Deciding that this was a pointless distraction, you move on to the only other thing of note in the room: An easel, in the center, with a canvas nearly as tall as yourself. So far, there’s little on it other than pencil lines, a sketch marking where to paint certain details. Only the (start of) the background has been colored. Understandably, it’s hard to make out what exactly the finished project would end up representing. Based on what you know of Cassandra and her family, however, you infer that this- with four figures, one larger than the others, protective- is a painting of the castle residents.

“Family means something to you, hmm?... I hope that mine does not miss me much, for I will never see them again,” you say to yourself, instinctively reaching out towards the art. Before you can touch it, or think better of it, the door to the studio is flying open. In storms Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. As soon as she sees you, she’s rushing forward, pulling you away from the easel. “Hello, darling. Glad to see me feeling better, yes?” You teased, smiling wide at her. Feeling a bit emboldened by your earlier success, you go a step further, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I swear to fuck, if you touched any of my stuff-” Cassandra starts to say, intentionally ignoring the kiss, even though her cheeks get flush at the contact.

“Nope, not a single thing. Not even the broken glass. Nice touch, by the way, makes the whole space feel a helluva lot cozier,” you interject. For a few moments she holds you by your shirt collar, staring you in the eyes as if determining whether or not to believe you. Somehow, some way, she declares you innocent, releasing you with an irritated sigh. After pretending to dust yourself off, you return your attention to the central canvas. “Do you do a lot of art of your family? I passed by several pieces on my way here, though they were certainly in a different style.” Another pause, with Cassandra waiting for you to spring a verbal trap.

“Some of those are mother’s work,” she answers, tentatively, eying you closely. When you merely nod in reply, expecting her to elaborate, she starts to relax, little by little. “I doubt you passed any of mine. Mother tends to keep those closer to her quarters, or near the main entrance.” Interesting, you think, why hasn’t she addressed my original question?

“It sounds like she’s very proud of you,” you muse, still facing away from your soulmate. There’s a slight shakiness to your voice, as your mind starts to dwell on memories of your own family. Perhaps noticing this, Cassandra takes a few steps closer, one hand hovering over your shoulder, not quite sure if you needed (or perhaps deserved) any comfort. In this moment, you feel far more vulnerable than you had the day before. Taking a deep breath, you try to center yourself, before perfectly ruining whatever trust you had just established with Cassandra. “Something tells me she doesn’t know about the titty sculpture though, right? Can’t quite imagine that one being displayed where everyone can see it.”

To your immense surprise, Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

“You… you really don’t know anything about my mother, do you?” She says, after several awkward seconds. It feels strange to think that she had been furious, merely a handful of minutes ago. “If you actually behave for a while, I can show you some of her favorite pieces around the castle. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Intrigued, you debate how exactly to respond. On one hand, you did want to see the art, but on the other hand… misbehaving was your goal of the day.

“Sounds like a nice date to me. Why not start the tour right now?” You suggest, hoping to meet your ‘politeness quota’ earlier rather than later. Still, it is in your very nature to be chaotic, and you find yourself giving Cassandra an affectionate shoulder touch. It’s not at all genuine, but the two of you blush nonetheless. How could you not, when your blood was bound together, hearts made to race in sync?

“Don’t get friendly with me,” Cassandra stammers, unadjusted to the way her pulse pounded. “This isn’t a date. We’re just- it doesn’t matter, actually. As long as it means getting you out of my studio, I don’t care.” With that said, she takes your hand in her own, pulling you towards the exit. If she has any feelings about the soft touch, she hides them well… unlike yourself. Cheeks flushed, you’re half tempted to yank yourself out of her grip, hating the way your heart skips a few beats. Would I still feel this way if I didn’t know we were soulmates? You wonder, biting your lower lip to prevent any unwanted comments from slipping out. Soon enough you’d have art aplenty to distract yourself with. Hopefully.

---------------------------

“My God, you were not kidding. I don’t- I can’t even think of anything clever to say,” you chime, staring dumbfounded at the several statuettes of naked women. They seemed to fulfill some other purpose, one you couldn’t parse at the moment, but you could hardly think about the details right now. “I mean, good for your mother, for sticking to a theme, I suppose,” you continue, tripping over your own tongue, uncharacteristically quiet. Clearly amused by your flustered display, Cassandra lets out a hearty laugh.

“Good to know some things can shut you up. I’ll have to keep this in mind for next time you bother me,” she teases, light-heartedly. Her words only fluster you more, though they quickly give you room to counter, much to your joy.

“Is that so? Planning on carrying around a busty bust for the rest of your life, or thinking of going the more au naturel route?” You asked, briefly sticking your tongue out at Cassandra. It takes her a moment to understand what you’re getting at, but as soon as she does she’s smacking your arm with an offended huff. Despite her irritation, the blow is relatively soft, and you swear you can see her fighting to hide a smile. “Starting to go soft on me, are you? I hardly even felt that one.”

“So you’d prefer I hit you harder? And to think you called me kinky,” Cassandra fires back, without a hint of hesitation. Now both of you are laughing, softly, like old friends sharing fond memories. It’s… weirdly nice. A warmth fills your chest, even as you try to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be happy right now. Damn it, you think, suddenly frowning, hands clenching. We shouldn’t be having fun banter, back and forth like a real couple. Not when I’ve still got wounds from her hands on my skin. Instinctively you reach up to your face, thumb running over the marks Cassandra’s nails had left behind. The touch stings, bad, no matter how gentle you try to be. Noticing your shift in expression, your soulmate inches closer. “If your wounds are bothering you, I can have one of the servants get more ointment or whatever it is we have around. I don’t want you to-... There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, besides, I don’t want you complaining all day.” Of course she couldn’t bring herself to imply that she cared. Of course. It wasn’t like the two of you were actually capable of being soft for each other, obviously. All of your confusion melts down, boiled by the warmth in your chest, turning to a familiar, albeit painful, rage.

“Right, right! Because you care so fucking much, yeah? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I-” you jab a finger towards her chest, accusatory- “talking to you? Why am I pretending you're not the one who did this to me? You’re the fucking reason my face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my brain-... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened down there. I can’t get those goddamn images out of my head, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I…” You trail off, chest heaving a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra’s standing tall, unflinching, but there’s a noticeable regret in her expression.

“What. Are. You… going to do about it?” She asks, through clenched teeth, fighting back the full force of her emotions. You can’t tell what exactly she’s feeling, but you know that you want her to show you. Every part of you is itching for a fist fight, regardless of how stupid you know the idea is.

“Depends, dickwad, on whether or not these statuettes are properly secured,” you snap, already moving, fully abandoning all impulse control. By the time your hand grips the first sculpture, Cassandra has put you in a headlock, forcefully tugging you backwards. Panic sets in, making you try to jam your elbows into her stomach. Before long both of you are tumbling to the floor, bodies already aching, limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to hit a target, any target. In the end the air is knocked from your lungs as your head smacks against the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” you grumble, coughing, finally processing just how much of a dumbass you were. It’s clear that at least one of the previous day’s wounds has reopened, and you feel something wet and sticky on your shirt.

“Finished, asshole?” Cassandra wheezes, sounding dazed, roughly pulling you up by your shirt collar. You nod, refusing to meet her gaze. Then she’s sighing in relief, letting you lean on her for support, holding you surprisingly close, considering the circumstances. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again…”

[ravysu]

Sannin headcanons and thoughts

The last thing I would like to post for the sannin week. It is still 24.04 here! :D @sannin-central

This is long. Spoiler alert. Mostly Orochimaru, some Tsunade, a little of Jiraiya (because his story is pretty clear and spoken and idk what I can add). Also I recommend to read this meta about Orochimaru, it has influenced me a lot and has some good points. Sorry for any posible grammar mistakes. Also I really should put here a lot of references to the manga or anime but it was something that was piling up for a year and I'm soooooooo lazy. After all, those are just headcanons. Also: Im not excusing Oro's bad stuff here, Im trying to understand the reasons.

Ive already posted some hcs, here, here and here.

1. First if all, the chronology pic of sannin lifetime based on the info i found on naruto wiki and also some statements about wars from this post. It was tough considering what a mess naruto’s chronology is.

2. Sannin story shows what it cost to be a legend. They're like Team 7 but more realistic. Tsunade literally carried the war but left with nothing and developed a ptsd and have problems to just live on. Also anger control issues. I think she can be pretty bossy and stubborn which is not always nice. Jiraiya is the hero of the day but also very idealistic and can ignore some important details in the real word whether its the fight (he always injured during flashbacks maybe because each time he took too much to handle and on the one hand it's heroistic but on the other is a mistake that can lead your team to situations like in that Iwa cave) or your friends issues (I bet he saw what's going on but thought it's fine until Oro actually got red handed and left). He lives in his world and may have problems to get out to see it through someone else's shoes. As for Orochimaru, it seems like he was a normal guy for 20+ years (I mean, he didn't do crazy criminal shit and had something good in him and it was stated somewhere that it was his teammates influence. It is obvious they considered him as a friend, I don't thinks it was for nothing) but we mostly know his darkest side. Despite being a moster he is a human that have empathy and some ordinary human traits (man just decorates every bit of an environment he is in lol).

3. Tsunade was the leader of team Hiruzen.

4. Tsunade sometimes hit Jiraiya for some stupid things he did or said but never touches Orochimaru even if he did something same. Jiraiya complained about it once and almost got another hit.

5. Jiraiya had problematic parents that didn't care about him much and a lot of time he was wandering in the streets.

6. Judging by the look of Oro bangs and hair, he sometimes cut it off. A stress relief huh? And the fact that he doesn't do it now in Boruto..

7. It was shown that Tsunade and Orochimaru was acknowledged before they become a team. Maybe they did just before, or maybe some longer time before. I prefer the second option and hc that they met because both had no real friends - Orochimaru seemed weird and scary for everyone and Tsunade was Senju so everyone wanted to hang out with her but didn't really care. They weren't seen as what they were - people put the labels on them. But they didn't care about each other's labels and actually saw each other in true lights.

8. Tsunade knew it was an accident and it's not right but still she blamed Orochimaru for Nawaki's death for some time. It was something that seriously damaged their friendship and the team. Orochimaru was mad but also guilty, after all, he was responsible at least as a shinobi since Nawaki was under his watch. So he started to act cold and emotionless and was trying to distance himself from his teammates.

9. Jiraiya was in Ame while Dan died.

10. The whole his orphans mission was a bit irresponsible tbh. They already fought Hanzo and as he stated the conflict between Konoha and Ame is going to an end with Konoha's win. It's weird to stay here for three years in the middle of the war while there were other lands to fight. He left his teammates for some idea. Maybe that caused another crack in their team friendship.

11. If Tsunade would have find a way to live on with her trauma and follow the will of fire and stuff it would affect Orochimaru as well just as her grief affected him. It's like he would get an example that you can live on with this pain. So death isn't above human capability and we are not just the slaves of mortality (sounds stupid but i dont know how else to describe sorry). But as we know what he actually saw is that it broke her crucially to the point she couldnt be herself again. And so the death is above everything.

12. Oro wasn’t just acting as a cold pragmatic bitch in that cave but also tried to save Tsunade. Jiraiya knew it and that’s why he showed this sign to him like "I see what youre doing here" and that stunned Oro because he would prefer to look rather like a cold pragmatic bitch hehe

13. Just a thought. People in the village probably treated Oro as a foreigner or just wouldnt accept him because he looked so differently and had a weird attitude. That's why he sometimes didn't feel that Konoha is his home. After the wars where people were treated as means and tools, even the children, he himself developed this view on people - he dehumanized them and used as the means to his goals, just as his village did. Funny thing some people were straightly dehumanizing him too like Ibiki thought that he was a demon (tho he was a child). And he probably weren't the only one. Anyways the point is that it's logical that Orochimaru don't care about anybody but some few people, he's the product of his era. He's like Naruto that would chose the hatred way. But naruto had some good and understanding people around him and.. Orochimaru had them too, but match how Iruka treated Naruto and this Hiruzen's "I sAw tHe mAliCe in This cHiLd fRoM tHe BegGinNinG". And oro didn't even have a big ass evil fox in him. sry i hate hiruzen

ANYWAYS the moral of the story is not "go criminal if they hurt you" but always treat people like people. Waving my hand to Kant.

14. The reason why Orochimaru didn't pick some good morals to stick with through the hard times no matter what (like, idk, Jiraiya or Naruto) is because 1) I think he is/was pretty depending on people around him 2) the war fucked him and his friends up too much (Nawaki incident + Tsunade) 3) twisted addictions (though I don't think he's that sadistic, we never saw him torturing randoms just for fun, it was always some science experimental shit. He tends to get fun out of cruelty only when it's personal) that maybe developed as a way to sublimate anger and sadness caused by his parents loss (that's what they share with sasuke - unlicke naruto, they knew their parents and it's other kind of pain. Sasuke developed a revenge issue and Orochimaru - cruelty pleasure which... is kinda the same but less epic and more occasional lol).

15. Speaking of that, Orochimaru cared for Sasuke because he saw himself in him.

16. Oro hold grudges against Hiruzen for not choosing him to be Hokage not only because he was ambitious and/or egoistic, but also because Hiruzen was some kind of a father figure for him and his approval was important tho i doubt he was aware of that. He also probably could tell that Hiruzen was suspicios about him when he was a child and that led to many conflicts and was hurting as well.

17. Tsunade knew things weren't pretty with Orochimaru after the wars but she never expected them to be this bad. During the week that she was given in her arc she thought not only about how much she wants to see Nawaki and Dan again despite how wrong would it be but also was trying to bury all the good memories she had left of Orochimaru so it would be easier to kill him.

18. She poisoned Jiraiya exactly because she knew he would not let her do it. Jiraiya was always hesitant to kill and inclined to forgiveness, while Tsunade, as mentioned by Orochimaru, could be merciless (so much so that he was not surprised when Kabuto suggested that she wanted to use Jira for Edo Tensei).

19. That was one of her traits that scared Jiraiya and fascinated Orochimaru.

20. Remember how Oro grabbed Jiraiya's neck when the latter was trying to cover with hair jutsu? On the snake, in Tsnade's arc. Orochimaru could have easily kill Jiraiya by pulling the sword out of the mouth (arteries are right there) but he didn't. As well as he could kill Tsunade when she was still shaking - just aim for the neck or the heart. Instead, he just injured her lung and kicked her which is not a big deal for the kind of shinoby like her at all.. Also he helped Anko not accidentally kill herself but it would be way much profitable to let her do it. "Orochimaru has no feelings".

21. The reason he suddenly wanted to kill Tsunade instead of forcing her to heal his arms as it was planned (which is weird since it will not going to get him heals and he kinda said that he wouldn't want to kill her just minutes ago) is that not only she refused to help him (he thought he could work it out) but she also prefered the village over him (from his point of view). Out if everyone she was the closest to being able to understand him since the village caused her painful losses too but nevertheless she agreed to be on it's side.

22. He wasn't fighting her back in the end partly because he thought he deserved that. Somewhere deep inside hahah.

23. Tsunade got a fear to develop deep bonds so they probably weren't very close with Shizune (also the way she knocked her down in this hotel.. oh).

24. Orochimaru will be here when she'll die.

25. Orochimaru's eng dub to Tsunade: "I often wondered what it would be like to ring that pretty neck yours". No comments.

26. Orochimaru is either bi/pan or ace. Anything or nothing lmao

27. Hiruzen knew about at least some of the Oro’s illegal experiments and was okay just as he was okay with the Foundation all the time. Because it’s useful. Then he has discovered he went too far OR he knew everything and oro just became too inconvenient because of his methods. The way Orochimaru tells Sasuke about reasons they are well treated as the criminals is based on in his experience with Hiruzen.

28. As you may know the lyrics in Orochimaru’s music theme goes “don’t talk with the silence of the heart”. It was taken from one Indian song that also had lines like “don’t question life too much”, ”pain arose somewhere in the chest”, “don’t speak to the wounds of the heart”. Though I’m not sure 100% because I was translating it with some hindi dictionary with like zero knowledge of hindi

29. I like to think that this “silence of the heart” theme and the fact that he called his village a hidden sound village are somehow connected. The hidden sound is the possible explanation of all things waiting to be listened to but the truth is silent and you know it deep in your heart and it bothers you. The world is silent just like the life is meaningless but people can only hear. *Sigh* anyways

30. Orochimaru’s journey is the one about accepting death. When he saw Karin released her chains while was trying to get to Sasuke he understood that the death is a part of human’s strength.

Can’t wait to feel that everything I wrote is wrong or not enough or stupid and obvious lol. Anyways, it’s something that I wanted to share until I move to some other fandom.

[theotherhufflepuff]

Simon Snow Trilogy Tarot Cards...

Ok so, a little while ago I saw this frankly stunning artwork by @vkelleyart and I started thinking about the Major Arcana archetypes and how characters from my favourite book series could fit into them.

So I made this list. It took a lot of thought and I’m still not 100% sure on some of them but I have explained my thought process for each card.

I don’t know how much crossover there is in the Venn diagram of “Simon Snow fans” and “tarot readers” but I’d love to hear your opinions and/or alternative suggestions (be respectful though, obviously). I’ve left “visual prompts” for most of the cards explaining what they looked like in my imagination and if anyone wants to draw any of these (or their own alternative version!) please tag me; it would make my day! I can’t draw for toffee so I am 1000% never gonna try to illustrate any of them myself.

List under the cut because it is loooong.

Spoilers ahead for the whole series!

0 The Fool - Shepard - Shepard just follows magickal creatures around and says “yes” to everything... he is the pure embodiment of the Fool archetype to me; care-free, innocent... prepared for everything and yet totally clueless. Visual prompt: Shepard about to (attempt to) step into the fog as he follows a fairy into the forest.

1 The Magician - Penelope - “Penelope Bunce is a fierce magician, I don’t mind saying” Baz, at least once in each book. Penny never worries about not having the power or words available to do whatever she wants; she is comfortable in her power and it is always there, ready to be wielded however she sees fit. Visual prompt: Penny wearing her Stevie Nicks cape, standing by a chalkboard in the classic “Magician” pose, ring clearly held aloft.

2 The High Priestess - Dr Mitali Bunce - Dr Bunce is possibly a more formidable magician than her daughter. Highly intelligent, straightforward and, let’s be honest, judgemental. But she does have all the answers. Visual prompt: Dr Bunce carrying around her laptop, phone sandwiched between her ear and her shoulder.

3 The Empress - Lucy Salisbury - Lucy exudes the nurturing, Earth Mother vibes that are central to the Empress archetype. She saw the best in everyone and all she wanted was to love Davy and live with him in their cottage with her chickens and their child. Visual prompt: Lucy, barefoot and pregnant, feeding the chickens outside of their cottage.

4 The Emperor - Lamb - This is one of the ones I’m not totally sure about. I went through a few different ideas but ultimately settled on Lamb as the “Vampire King of Las Vegas”. He is an imposing figure, ruling his city with an iron fist; if you are in his favour, Vegas is your playground, but cross him and you will suffer the consequences. Visual prompt: Lamb sits on an antique chair in his opulent suite at the Katherine, the lights of night time Vegas visible through the window behind him.

5 The Hierophant - The Mage - Again, this one took some thought and I’m sure some people will disagree with this interpretation... I’m not completely sold on it myself. The Mage was all about reforming the old traditions of the World of Mages and he amassed a following by doing so. But he turned out to be somewhat of a false prophet; abusing his power to oppress those he deemed “the enemy”. Visual prompt: The Mage in his Robin Hood costume, sitting at his desk at the top of the Weeping Tower, surrounded by his piles of banned books.

6 The Lovers - Simon and Baz - Obviously. As stated at the top of this post, I love @vkelleyart’s version of this card, but there are a lot of scenes across the series that could be used to illustrate this archetype. I personally always love to see the original “and then he kisses me” scene.

7 The Chariot - Fiona Pitch - I struggled with this one a bit and I don’t really think that this is the ideal version. But the image of Fiona, rolling up to Blackfriars bridge in her vintage sports car to rescue Baz from the Numpties really stuck with me so that’s what I went with, for lack of a better idea.

8 Strength - Ebb - Ebb is often dismissed and underestimated by other magicians but she is wicked powerful. But more than that, the Strength card is about inner strength, self control and the wisdom to know when to fight, and when to rest. Ebb is highly intuitive about the people - and goats - around her and is always careful not to talk about her twin brother, only conceding that she knows of his presence once a year and never giving in to the temptation to talk directly to him. Ebb saw the war coming and knew that she could probably end it all by herself with the power she had; but she also knew that she didn’t want that and she had the strength to say no, to eschew the expectations the rest of the World of Mages placed upon her and live quietly, instead. Visual prompt: Ebb in the hills behind the school with the goats, she wears a flower crown that the Dryad made her.

9 The Hermit - Agatha - the Hermit eschews the outside world in order to take an inner journey of self discovery, knowing that this is the only way to find real answers and achieve real growth. Agatha, jaded by the World of Mages, took herself off to California, leaving her wand at home. She didn’t know what she wanted but she knew it wasn’t magic. Visual prompt: Agatha sits on the beach at twilight by a small campfire, Lucy the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel by her side.

10 The Wheel of Fortune - The Crucible - The Crucible’s decisions, like the Wheel’s, are unpredictable and inevitable. Once it’s happened, you’re stuck with the consequences - sometimes bad (being stuck with a toff vampire who hates you) and sometimes good (getting the best room in Mummers house).

11 Justice - Natasha Grimm-Pitch - Natasha needed justice to find peace; her whole story is about justice. She was swift to act when the vampires attacked Watford, dispatching them without hesitation. When she came through the veil to find Baz and ask him to bring her murderer to justice, she knew that would also provide some closure for him, too, both for her death, and for his. Visual prompt: Natasha Grimm-Pitch appearing from beyond the veil, looking for Baz and finding Simon.

12 The Hanged One - Nicodemus - The Hanged One is about feeling stuck, but also about finding peace where you are when there’s nothing you can do about it. Nicodemus chose to cross over for eternal life, but he was stricken from the book; his (considerable) magic effectively taken from him and his fangs removed. He was stuck in between - not a full vampire, not a magician; he exists on the fringes of both communities. He got himself there and then he had to figure out how to get by, carve out a place for himself in order to survive. Visual prompt: Nicodemus sits in the tree in the garden of his mother’s house in South London, waiting for Ebb to come and sit on the empty bench beneath him.

13 Death - [scene on the Great Lawn] - Ok, so.. this might need some explaining. My immediate thought for this card was that it should be the Humdrum but Death is all about clearing out the old junk in your life that doesn’t serve you in order to make space for the new. And the Humdrum isn’t making space for anything. So I was thinking about times that has happened in the story and I thought about how the death of the Mage made room for real progress and an end to the war with the old families. Visual prompt: Penny and Baz (literally) run into a fleeing Agatha on the Great Lawn; the Weeping Tower looms in the background, the Mage and Simon visible through the blown-out stained glass windows.

14 Temperance - Simon and the Humdrum - Temperance is, as you might expect, about balance and harmony. Simon used so much magic at once that he couldn’t control it and it tore holes in the magickal atmosphere. Simon had to fill the Simon-shaped hole to restore equalibrium and stop the magickal firmament from collapsing altogether. Visual prompt: Simon kneeling in the Weeping Tower, pouring his magic into the Humdrum as he fades away.

15 The Devil - Smith Smith-Richards - The Devil is about feeling trapped by temptations in your life, often because we’re afraid of what we would do with the freedom we’d have if we let them go. Which got me thinking about Smith-Richards (that name never gets any less ridiculous) and all the magicians who were taken in by the temptation of “fixing” their magic. But it was a false promise and those magicians who narrowly escaped taking Smith-Richards’ spell were all freed from the idea of their magic being “broken” in the first place. Visual prompt: Smith-Richards (looking like the guy who would be cast to play Simon in the Netflix series) standing on a stage in the packed-out White Chapel, rapt audience hanging on his every word.

16 The Tower - The Humdrum - Originally I wanted to use the Weeping Tower for this card because the imagery is on point but the meaning doesn’t match. The Tower is about absolute destruction, the crumbling of something you thought core to your being. The Humdrum steals magic and renders magicians homeless because of it. The Tower is about having to start again from the ground up - just as the Grimms did when all the magic was drained from Hampshire. Visual prompt: The Humdrum, wearing Simon’s face, stands in the grounds of Pitch Manor, laughing. (I have always thought of the holes looking like a burn in a piece of paper - sort of glowing and smouldering at the edges as it eats away the atmosphere. I know the holes can’t actually be seen - the Normals would freak out - but that is imagery I would use here)

17 The Star - Lady Ruth’s candles - The Star is about hope and healing after the devastation of the Tower. Lady Ruth’s candles were a symbol of hope that kept her going when she thought she had lost her children. They provided comfort and, at the end when it became clear the Lucy was gone, the healing of knowing that her child had finally found his way home to his family. Visual prompt: Lady Ruth’s candles in front of a window, a bright star can be seen through the window.

18 The Moon - Agatha and Simon - So, the Moon is all about examining blurred lines between illusion and reality - nothing looks totally clear in the moonlight. It reminded me of how Simon never really seemed to have a clear view of his feelings for Agatha and what their relationship was. When he properly examined his feelings, he found that he didn’t love Agatha and was going through the motions because he thought it was what other people expected of him. Agatha was doing the same. It also brought to mind Simon, going out of his mind worrying about Baz when he was missing - as well as basically every other thought Simon ever has about Baz before Christmas Eve 2015 - and somehow mistaking it for hating him?? Simon is not stupid but sometimes he’s real dumb. Visual prompt: Agatha and Simon meet on the ramparts, both looking for Baz, and break up.

19 The Sun - Simon - This card is all about innocence, optimism and joy. Nothing about this series personifies this more than Simon flying above Shepard’s truck in America, feeling free and hopeful about the future for the first time in over a year. Visual prompt: Shepard’s truck drives through the vast empty desert, the sun beating down. Simon flies above the truck, joy on his face.

20 Judgement - Niamh and Agatha - Ok, this one was hard to figure out and this is maybe not the right solution, but I was very stuck. Judgement is about self improvement through self reflection. As a small twist on that theme; Niamh and Agatha challenge each other’s view of themselves and their interactions with the world around them. Visual prompt: Agatha and Niamh, sweating to death in Niamh’s “shitty Ford Fiesta” (I’m very salty about that line; my Ford Fiesta is lovely and it has aircon). Niamh is frowning, obviously.

21 The World - Simon, Baz, Penny and Shepard - The World is about completeness, the ending of a story, fulfilment and belonging. At the end of AWTWB, Simon has finally found his biological family, he is starting to accept that his boyfriend and his found family love him for who he is, magic or no, and he can finally start to imagine a future for himself. Baz has learned new information about his vampirism, Penny has found new confidence and Shepard is finally fully accepted into the group. Visual prompt: Baz, Penny and Shepard sit on Simon’s sofa (possibly still pink from Baz’s spell, possibly he spelled it navy blue again) Simon sits on the floor. They’re all eating leftover sandwiches and cake from Lady Ruth’s.

[elliothier]

A happy 26th birthday from the fun year of 2021, future me! It is nearly 1am as I write this, just at the start of my official birthday, unlike last year when it was midnight at the end of the day.

So, let’s start things off with how things have been going. Today we temporarily move out to get the renovations done in the house -- I hope this is the only time renovations will be a Bother, you can laugh bitterly if they continued past these 5 weeks, it’s okay -- so I anticipate not necessarily having enough time to write this out later. Or, y’know, my brain might just be entirely dead, because today has been quite eventful in its stead!

The day (yesterday, technically, the 24th) started off with the local grandparents vising for the bday, and you know how that is, she’s loud, which is perfectly fine, but hell on the waking eardrums. We had that 25-50-75 party on the 3rd this year if you remember that, but forgot to take a picture, so I brought that up and we did that. Gran fussed over not having lipstick on, mom cleaned hers off and offered it, and for the hell of it I joined in and for the picture all three of us were wearing the same lipstick. Very fun! Luke came by later as well to pick up his stuff, brought along a gf, which was lovely meeting her. I’d say we vibed.

And then, the main event. Well, first some gaming in between, A Dance of Fire and Ice, got 4 achievements today! Beat world 12, perfectly, then world 3 speed, and world 6 speed, which I barely completed in time for D&D. That’s right, just like last year, D&D plays a role, we were still on voice when the day rolled over and I couldn’t wish for a better start.

We were on a halloween one-shot (part 2), the Death House, where I got to play with Courage and made his instrument a kazoo. It was glorious. He was still possessed when we started, making him extra terrified and throw a minor tantrum when it became evident we had to go to the basement. Ace had to convince him to go down, scaring him with ghost stories of what could happen if he didn’t join them, which worked. Oh, how the table turns. Further in Ace first scares the crap out of Courage to pick the lock on the chest he was trying to open and steal the treasure from under his nose. Mini was nice, at least, but Courage really did not like Ace for that move. And then even further, in the very depths, the two of them get to the central platform when figures appear, chanting that “one must die”. Ace was the only one to realize what’s going on and immediately turned on Courage, trying to kill him and very nearly succeeding, living on 1 HP! Ka bit his ankles, but Mini tried to persuade the monster in the corner to devour Ace. It woke up. And Ace ran tf away, informing them that was the very reason he was trying to sacrifice Courage as it would devour them all. All make it out, barely, but phew! What a session! Including requested kazoo send-offs for the ghosts of the couple that owned the house.

Phew, that was a long story, but I had such a good time I had to remind you of it. I haven’t even shared it with Emily yet, but I will, probably after this. Today will probably suck, but the early celebration at least I would say has been a success. And no, there has been no new instrument this year (djembe last year, guitar the year before), but I did improve at guitar playing this year, so there’s that! I hope that by now the music room has been fully set up and has seen some use. I’d say plenty of use, but let’s be realistic here, yeah? A couple of sessions is already nice.

So how are you? Has the day been treating you well? Will the day be treating you well? What about the year? I had my correction shortly after last birthday, that’s recovered decently, I hope the scars have faded more since. Oh, and I started at the workplace that teaches coding a few weeks ago, been there 3 times now and do think I like it. Very curious to see how that will pan out in the long term. Came out as enby there too, reflexively, but hey they sure do try. Oh, did His Dark Materials season 3 come out yet? I’m looking forward to that, if it didn’t come out yet surely it will soon!

So anyway, after that exciting day, I hope you’ll have a similarly good experience either today or the day before or somewhere in the vicinity! And I hope you are very much starting to thrive, in whatever way that may be 💚

Now to write something for The Box, I sure hope I didn’t forget about that last year 😂