#like adams whole story?? my guy its SO well done

[lingzhu]

okay but why didnt they kiss at the end

[drconstellation]

First-Order Archangels

Part 1: Maybe You'll Spot An Archangel

GABRIEL: I told you you could ask. However, I am the only First-Order archangel in the room, or, you know, the Universe, so I'm not gonna answer so much. But you feel free to knock yourself out with all the asking.

While I was writing my meta series The Passion Of Jimbriel it became fairly obvious to me there was something more going on between Crowley and Gabriel in S2 than just the numerous pointers to Crowley's pre-fall angel status. They are acting as both parallels and foils to each other, and in places you can swap their characters and get the same story at a different time – and that just opens up a whole new window of context and insight into things. For pre-reading, see this meta from @vidavalor that nicely lists some obvious parallels. It doesn’t mention everything though, so I’m going to discuss parts in more detail.

A foil is a character who contrasts with the protagonist, to highlight or differentiate certain qualities between the characters. Crowley and Gabriel do this because they have come from essentially the same place, and share some story elements, but they still end up in different places.

There is a lengthy original discussion about Crowley's pre-fall angel status here, for pre-reading. It points out the obvious and some not so obvious points that ops have noticed in S2 telling us about Crowley's pre-fall status. Rather than just go through them all again, I'd like to look at some other scenes in S2 that also tell us something about both the similarities and the differences between these two high-powered entities as I go along. In addition, I’ve done a series of posts looking at Gabriel as a shoulder angel (links at the end of post,) because quite often he’s on the demonic left-hand side – which makes sense when you realize he’s a Crowley parallel.

Take the arrival of Gabriel to Whickber St and the bookshop. I’ve already mentioned this parallel story line a couple of times now, but lets look at it again in more detail. It mirrors the opening of S1E1 where the serpent climbs the wall of the Garden of Eden, morphs into a demon and starts to converse with the angel standing on the wall.

Back in the present day, we have a Gabriel, who also tends to present on the sinister-side, walking up to the gate of the present day Garden (the bookshop), which is still guarded by the same angel as it was 6000 years ago, and basically tells Aziraphale he has “fallen.”

How to we know this? It is a reference to the Fall of Man, when Adam and Eve ate the apple the serpent offered them, they suddenly became aware of their nakedness, and hid from God. Gabriel has already upset the love-apple tomato cart on his way to the door of the bookshop, its a sign of the chaos to come.

The fallen angel is not sure of his name, so he prompts with a question…

And asks for shelter under the (reluctant) angel’s wing..

But there is one thing he does know, the one thing that drew him to Aziraphale in the first place:

AZIRAPHALE: Then why did you come to my shop? GABRIEL: I don't know. I just thought I should. You know what it's like when you- when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?

Later, Aziraphale realizes that he must give Gabriel a new name to hide him – because fallen angels take on a new name, don’t they? Just like Crowley did.

Then we get a confession:

Which is what Crowley loves about Aziraphale as well - that bit of unpredictability, because you know how humour kind of works? It throws the unexpected at you.

Early on in S2 we find out they are both in trouble: first His Royal Smugness, then Our Hero himself. Our view is turned upside down, with the angel made the bad guy and the demon the good guy who needs to win. But both of them are being hunted by Shax.

Then we get one of the early clues pointing to Crowley's high status as an angel:

SHAX: A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of Archangels could've performed. CROWLEY: Mm? SHAX: Somewhere very close to your friend's bookshop. Are you telling me you don't know what caused it? CROWLEY: How'd you know I didn't do it?

Shax stalks and threatens both of them, sometimes at the same time:

Another parallel Gabriel and Crowley shared in S2 were associating their identity - no, lets rephrase that - "essence" was one description I've seen - with boxes.

Gabriel arrives with a box that strategically covers his front, and quickly tosses it aside once Aziraphale opens the door to the bookshop. It lies forgotten until Gabriel mentions it a while later. Inside it is the fly from Beelzebub - an object from Hell - so it really needs to be 'invited' across the threshold of the bookshop by Aziraphale to be able to enter. The box initially appears to be empty, Once inside, the fly is free to roam. It has a message written on one side of it.

The same goes for the matchbox. Message included.

ah, wot? you say. Yep.

The matchbox represents Crowley, probably in more ways than one, but I'll just go through the stuff relevant to this meta here.

I notice I'm not the only op to connect the line from the Book of Job on the side of the matchbox with Crowley. The line is from Verse 41, which talks about Leviathan. Among the various shapes it is described to take is a great sea serpent. This deserves its own meta for further discussion, which I plan to do after this one, because yes, Crowley is Leviathan in disguise, but there is much more to it than that. But for now, just know that the matchbox is Crowley.

Once you know this, it makes sense that Muriel finds it - a discarded cardboard box by the front door to Heaven - and deals with a material object that shouldn't by rights exist in Heaven. Then a certain demon finds Muriel lurking outside during the siege on the bookshop at the end of S2E5, and talks them into letting the certain demon be escorted up into Heaven where he doesn't belong, where he's free to roam around - only he needs a guide because he's not sure where to go. Ah Muriel, you poke the Serpent, he's going to poke you back. Good thing he likes you, and it just was a gentle nudge.

Two empty boxes, two cases of memory-loss. That is what S2 seems to suggest to us at first glance.

Gabriel's seems to be the most straight forward in hindsight - find the fly and restore Gabriel to his original "Gabriel-ness." But its more complicated than that. When pushed to remember, his lilac eyes return and another voice can be heard speaking through him of the past. This happens twice, with the second one being part-prophecy. What is really triggering these episodes of channeling? Is it God or someone else speaking through him? We really aren't sure at this point in time.

Then there are questions around Crowley's memory. Did he have his memory wiped when he fell? Was it wiped repeatedly? Was it not wiped at all, and he just pretends he doesn't remember? Neil has even said he is an unreliable narrator about his own Fall, so who are we to trust at this point? Crowley does seem to understand in the end some of the problems Gabriel is having with his absent memories and that brings them to a temporary truce.

Both Aziraphale and Michael inspect their respective "empty" boxes, and neither notices anything obviously amiss. Gabriel's box just seems empty to Aziraphale, he takes no notice of the fly container in there, and archangel Michael tentatively inspects the matchbox brought to them by Muriel but nothing seems out of place there either.

Crowley's change in costume in Heaven during his little infiltration caper with Muriel is also another clue to his past status as an archangel. He has a silvery-gray suit, similar in style to Saraqael's to reinforce the link with them, but at the same time he is also mocking the other archangels and their elite status. We've assumed for a while now that the appearance of the tactical turtleneck signals that Crowley is up to something sneaky or spy related, but I'm starting to think it also relates to a bit of a power play (and Crowley certainly laid the power on for Mr Brown in the pub!) Looking back at S1, Gabriel's not adverse to wearing one either when he needs to be at his worst (or best. Your choice.)

The way one dresses is a way of expressing and reinforcing authority, and its something both Gabriel and Crowley do without much thought. They have been used to being in a position of power and/or independent authority for much of their existence, and I would say that even if Crowley is a few steps down now from where he started, and he's more cautious around those higher ranking than him than he used to be, he still retains that knowledge of what its like to be at the top.

Crowley's usual near all-black costume is a form of power dressing in itself. Whether is was in the past, when black was an expensive color to buy and maintain in clothing, or in the present day, we are still respectful of those in a stylish cut of black.

Gabriel's impeccable tailoring as Supreme Archangel also commands respect. So it's no wonder that one of Gabriel's first requests on regaining his memories was to ask for new clothes! He wasn't just being the vain archangel we believe him to be (although, I think there is still some of that) you also need to consider the elements of the reference characters that went into his shop assistant character: Granville, the belittled shop assistant nephew from the sitcom Open All Hours, who got stuck with all the shop duties from his uncle and felt like life was passing him by, and the silly Monty Python gumbies, that complained of hurting brains - lovable and much loved characters, but not ones you'd really want to be forever. We all want to be loved, but we want to be respected as well.

For all his fierce posturing around Gabriel, there is a brief moment in S2E3 where Crowley backs down and treats Gabriel as an equal - and that is reflected in a change of dress as well. His outside jacket off and sleeve-garters on, Crowley sports a look we haven't seen since S1 when he was home alone in his Mayfair flat. He patiently explains gravity to a curious Gabriel and then describes his "Operation Lovebirds" plan to his puzzled companion. He admits he hasn't "done weather in ages." It's just a quiet, charming moment, watching two ex-archangels get along together.

You're smiling, aren't you?

This meta continues in Part 2: Foils of War, where the differences between Gabriel and Crowley get explored in more detail, and how Aziraphale and Beelzebub act as mirrors to each other a few times as well.

This meta is part of a series on Gabriel: Gabriel as a Shoulder Angel: S1 Study S2 Study Part 1: Ep.1 The Arrival and Ep. 2 The Clue S2 Study Part 2: Ep.3 I Know Where I'm Going and Ep. 5 The Ball S2 Study Part 3: Ep.6 Every Day

First-Order Archangels Part 2: Foils of War

First-Order Archangels Part 3: Seeing Eye to Eye

[arudoe]

talk about bruise anything you want, i wanna hear

YAAAY MORE BRUISE

i alr talked about some hcs so ill chat a bit about some aus i have heehee!

- idol jay au !

i feel like this one is prolly the most well known (only because its the only one ive ever drawn for….) but basically jay is an idol/musician and cole is his nr1 fan! it was very inspired by prime empire and also those like harry styles x reader wattpad fics from back in the day… yeah…

all ive got for the story so far is that cole went to a fansign event and while getting his magazine signed jay also sneaks his personal phone number on one of the pages (something along tbe lines of xxx-xxx-xxx text me o_<) and… yeah things move on from there 🙏🙏

- mad scientist jay and his creature cole

OKAYY this might be one of my weirder ones but i think about it a lot 😭😭

anyways jay is a disabled basement dweller college dropout scientist guy and one day he kind of feels some paranormal presence in his lab and conducts a bunch of tests and comes to tbe conclusion there is a ghost floating around in his lab. so like the normal person he is he tries to communicate with it but only gets a bunch of weird cryptid messages that dont make sense… so he comes to bright idea of “hey! i should make this ghost a vessel they can possess!” so he makes a body frankenstein style and low and behold his plan worked!

cole, a ghost from the 80s who possessed the body is now chilling in jays lab with him, but like most people who have been dead for over 40 years he is very curious about the outside world and what has changed.

but jay for some reason is very adamant about him not going outside at all, which causes some tension between the two..

(the reason is jay has abandoned issues) (also cole is kind of a freak of nature) (affectionately)

I LIKE THIS AU A LOT cus its so stupid honestly and i love me some ghost cole also like im still mad about how ninjago decided to completely discard jays love for inventing… let the man make his little trinkets…

- wizard school au

basically what it sounds like… they are wizards.. at a wizard school… and do magic…

yes this was partly inspired by h*rry p*tter BUT ONLY THE VIBES (i barely remember the movies)

BUT UM this is like a whole universe thing and theres so so much lore and world building so… if u want a separate post about it… lmk

- roommates au!

this is my most recent one (and the one i think about the most) but um yeah pretty self explanatory it was based off this jdrama/manga called good morning call so uhhh ya!

basically cole and jay were enemies throughout highschool and basically spend all their energy hating each other but they to their separate ways during college but reunite (unwillingly) as roommates!

they navigate living with each other and learn to let go of their hate (which stemmed from a mixture of misunderstandings and insecurities) and then eventually fall in love!!

i think this is the au i have the most work done on (i have a draft for every major scene that happens in the story heehee) and perhaps! one day i will actually make it a real thing !

so um yeah! i have a bunch more but most of them are very unfinished or just… vague ideas or vibes i go by… i also have some aus that arent bruise so um if anyone wants to hear about those… smiles

BUTTT TYSM FOR UR QUESTION i dont rly say this a lot but any interaction i get with my content means the world to me and i always giggle and kick my feet when reading reblog comments bc everyone is so nice 🥹🥹

[fluffy-lovely-clouds]

LONG POST

hate to be serious for a second guys but I'm seriously thinking about leaving the hazbin hotel fandom, and its because i just cant fucking stand vivsie

i haven't supported her in any way ever since i heard about her history which was a while ago, maybe around when she finished her first season of helluva boss. well i stopped watching that, and hadnt planned to watch hazbin when it finally came out until one of my friends encouraged me to. so i had pirated all of it, that way i wouldn't support vivsie in any way, and for a while ive been okay with it, until now.

its not just the fact that i dont wanna watch a show because its by her, its because of all the messed up shit thats in the show, and plus how the fandom is (NOT pointing any of you guys out, you're all great).

For one, it feels like vivienne has such a terrible grudge on Christianity. im not Christian myself, im more or less an agnostic, but i still respect Christianity extremely, along with every other religion and belief as people should. The fact that the whole basis of her story and the way she presents it is a warped telling of Christian places (heaven and hell) and figures (angles, demons, Lucifer) is kinda disrespectful. i get that there are tons of other movies and shows that fantasize christianity and stuff, but hazbin hotel feels like vivienne is just trying and WANTING to outright insult the religion. taking such a big figure such as lucifer and making him goofy as hell, or showing that heaven is full of nothing but assholes, with ADAM being the biggest fuck of them all, just feels too far to me personally.

don't get me wrong, the chance that there are demons in hell that can redeem and be good people and that not everyone in heaven is perfect makes for a great story in my opinion, but i think that plot could be written and presented so much better than what vivsie's done

secondly, there are too many characters in the show that make me so uncomfortable and disgusted, and what's bad is these characters seem really glamorized. im talking about valentino. HE IS A LITERAL ACTIVE SEXUAL ASSUALTER WHO CONSTANTLY ABUSES ANGEL. THAT IS NOT OKAY. THAT IS A HUGE RED FLAG. but guess what, hes still fucking glamorized. not just by vivsie herself but by the fandom as well. you would think something bad would happen to him personally in the show to pay for his actions, but the worst i can remember happening to him is getting bit by fucking niffty, and angel standing up to him, BUT THAT IS NOT HIS DEFEAT. HE IS CONTINUOUSLY SHOWED THROUGHOUT THE SHOW BEING WRITTEN OFF LIKE NOTHING'S WRONG. His friendship with velvet and vox is seen as positive and even cute. i dont like vox much either because of the very fact that he makes out with valentino, and it makes me wonder if vivsie wrote vox off to know that valentino commits sexual abuse. if she did, then that means vox knows he's literally making out with a groomer and yet is okay with it. im gonna fucking explode

the fandom can be just terrible in the fact that people know all this but don't give a shit anyhow and draw/ write all the disgusting, shitty characters glamorized anyway cause they're messed up and think they're hot or whatever (VALENTINO). that's it. ive seen it in this community. there was a post about him where he teased y/n and it was meant to be seen positively. it got popular pretty fast. again, im gonna fucking explode. also, there's the deal with Alastor. IT IS CANON HE IS AROACE. But I have seen the fandom completely ignore that and sexualize him so much im starting to lose faith in humanity.

so yeah, i could keep going a bit but i think y'all get the point. i MIGHT not leave completely because i dont hate everything about the show, but by that i mean that husk and angel's relationship are like the only thing i care about. you MAY still see those two on here every once in a while, but that's it

so.. sorry guys, but i hope ive made yall understand

[divinecomedyproductions]

RWBY Saints of Remnant Notes: Should the SDC and Jacques be bad guys? Or one of the few Good Guys amongst corruption in Atlas?

DISCLAIMER: This post contains is a radically reimagined Jacques Schnee and SDC in a positive light in a heavily reimagined RWBY AU and has cliche tropes such as "dead mom" which I intend to complement with as "dead dad" of another family, if Canon Jack and SDC has given you a permanent bad taste in your mouth along with Canon Adam Taurus, I understand, this is an AU, just please do not come in with bad faith and ignore me instead.

Said AU is connected to The Emperor-Verse

I'm writing down notes and my gut just wants to make Jacques redeemable, but given how much damaged he has done to others, both his family and an entire people, that seems to heavy of a task without him ending up dead. But that was when I rebooted it by the end of V3.

But making this a hard reboot from the beginning then it hit me, and you do not have to agree with this at all...

What if instead of the SDC and Mr. Schnee being part of Atlasian corruption...

They along with James and the Atlas Military/Academy are the only few good individuals and institutions in Atlas, and both are paying the price for it from their upper class peers?

What if instead of Jacques being this opportunistic conman, he is Nicholas' biological son, and a former huntsmen in his youth who was on the same team as James Ironwood who served as his leader and who Weiss and Winter fondly call “Uncle Jim”, basically to them what Qrow is to Yang and Ruby

Jacques stuck to his father's principles and has managed to uphold The Schnee Dust Company as one of the few ethical businesses in regards to the Faunus, as well as providing support to other ethical businesses in the northern kingdom, mostly forming genuine friendships with their owners, and refused to outsource labor and resources when everyone else in Atlas did.

But as a result, James and Jacques are being ganged up on left and right by the upper class.

The only reason the Atlas establishment has tolerated Jack and his company for so long because the Kingdom was heavily dependent on them along with other companies for Dust and other goods and products, until recently with a growing unethical conglomerate run by Dr. Gray(Watts) with his mega-corporation GigaWatts Incorporated(Think OCP from Robocop and Lexcorp from DC), and plans on getting rid of the SDC and becoming the kingdoms new source of manufactured goods, tech, and labor, including dust mining and GWI is known for unethical use for Faunus labor in both the mines and factories.

Though I might just toss the Faunus Racism thing given how much of a mess it is and rework the WF for something else and have Atlas Upper Class replacing well-paying jobs with robots to keep the lower classes underpaid, or I could try something with both, need input on that.

Buy anyway, The SDC used to be big, but not in a megacorporation way. The SDC was one of the top four successful companies in Remnant back in the day(because 4 is the magic number in RWBY), and as I said before, Jack had made partnerships with other businesses both in his homeland and a few in other kingdoms during trips with his family, but its very few and Jack had made genuine friendships with the owners. He never stripped the human element out of his business.

You could say GWI is a large-scale "Evil Queen" figure

While the SDC is a large-scale "Snow White" figure, in more ways than one, but that's once again another story for another day.

Now GWI is overshadowing them at an accelerated rate with hundreds of Atlasian corporate companies joining it in exchange for Watt’s technology as well as Atlas Military’s higher ups hiring Watts to develop their military technology and last but not least outsourcing Dust Mining to the likes of Vaccou and Jacques and James are the only few who suspect Watts’ whole campaign being a “snake oil” tactic for something insidious as Arthur has all of the upper class eating out of the palm of his hand.

Meanwhile the likes of the White Fang and other kingdoms see Jack, SDC, James and The Atlas Military as just a bunch of rich pricks due to being part of the upper class(millionaires though, not billionaires, and even that’s dwindling now), seeing Jack and Jim as "one of them"

and understandably so mind you, given the rest of Atlas’ actions, but also because the current leader Rina Kumokage is lumping them in deliberately to distract the other members and branches(North, West, and South to be exact) of her own selfish and twisted intentions for the White Fang among other things

Though the White Fang itself seems to be in the hands of corrupt individuals in their neck of the woods. With the likes of Blake and Adam seeking to root it out, Adam being a little too aggressive in his means while Blake seeks outside help, which has strained their brother-sister relationship.

Spoiler alert, the corruption of The White Fang is not from Adam but a new character, Adam isn't the bad guy or a psychopath.

In this AU Adam is more like a cross between Fall of Cybertron Grimlock and Zuko, but he's another post for another day.

But anyway, the persecution of the SDC by the rest of the Atlasian upper class has gotten so bad, radical anti-Faunus militia Kriegsratten Korps aka “The Rats”(they allude to the Rats in The Nutcracker and mixed with Wolfenstein Nazis) and most likely be members of the Atlas Military throughout the ranks supplied with tech from GWI even secretly supported the corrupt council and big business, start attacking the SDC mines killing Schnee family members for being “faunus lickers”, one of them being Jack’s wife Anastasia(both alluding to the Russian Princess, and Snegurochka a Russian fairy tale character) while James struggles to provide the mines and family security while being undermined by higher-ups. 

Yes I know dead mom is cliche but I plan on complementing(is that the right word?) it with Blake losing her own father Ghira and leaving her mother, Noire(aka Kali), widowed. And I have a reason for that later on down the road.

Also Jacques isn't a monster, he just isn't a perfect parent and seems cold on the surface, but its mostly due the burden he bares of being a single parent, and upholding a noble family legacy, giving Faunus descent and honest work, and holding out with other businesses he’s made partnerships with. Their something of a resistance group against GWI.

All with countless of peers trying to sabotage him and James to the point its claimed his family and lover, all of which is straining his relationship with his daughters and his former teammates, James in particular. Plus losing his father at an early age and the board of directors forcing him to become CEO caused him to develop anxiety issues with only his mother and girlfriend and later on wife and children keeping him sane.

James and Jacques together allude to “Atlas” with a great burden weighing down on their shoulders they struggle to hold it up

He's a bit too harsh on Weiss with her huntress training(ie the White Trailer) but in order to defend herself against assassins, and sends her off to Vale in hopes she would be safer there(relatively speaking.) 

But the way he does it comes off to Weiss as her father not caring about her other than making her a trophy for his own reputation and being out of his way otherwise, and HOO-BOY don't get me started with how pissed Winter is with him.

Like I said, if all of this you can't vibe with because its supposed to be Jacques and Canon Jacques along with Canon Adam has put a permanent bad taste in your mouth, thats fine, I feel the same about other characters in other stories. No judgement.

I plan on making a post to dive deeper into Jack, but I will say he's primarily Jack Frost, but his secondary allusion to "The Nutcracker"

I'm also recycling this concept for my own original works, not sure what exactly, but something.

[weirdsideblog]

Jesus Was Vored, But Not in Communion

Yes I’m being serious. So serious that it’s actually silly, but- just hear me out.

Thesis: The Communion jokes, while funny, are theologically incorrect- but not because Jesus wasn’t vored

(Symbolically speaking)

- “Haha, Christians have a ritual where they pretend to vore Jesus” well. Yes. But actually no. Well- it depends on which branch of Christianity you’re talking to, but. Anyway-

- BUT communion actually has very little to do with actual vore or cannibalism in its symbolism; by comparing his body and blood to basic foods, Jesus was making the point that he’s the source of true (perfect, everlasting) life. We eat bread and drink wine to remind ourselves that our souls need Jesus the way our bodies need food and drink. (Also looking forward to when we all get to eat and party together in heaven with Jesus later, and unity with him and all our fellow believers past, present, and future because we’re all symbolically at the same table)

- My church denomination and many others see this as symbolic only- because it is. However, some churches believe that once blessed by a priest, the bread and wine somehow literally become the literal body and blood of Jesus. I’m not sure where they got that idea, because Jesus sure didn’t say that- he was talking about doing this in remembrance of him, and it was pretty clearly a metaphor at the time when he said it because it was really just bread and wine that he was showing to the disciples. But anyway. I’m not a theologian, and churches can disagree on weird details like that and we’ll look at each other kinda funny, but like it’s fine because that’s not the point (is what a lot of people in church history should have said, but I digress)

- Anyway. Communion isn’t really about vore. Okay like a little bit because there’s also the theme of Jesus having given himself up so completely for our salvation, but literal eating isn’t the point. Even if it were, it would be a lot more akin to cannibalism than vore, which is sometimes a shaky line, but. That’s not the point.

- But you know what really is about vore?

- Other things.

- Jonah, obviously (tl;dr, guy gets thrown off a ship in a storm, and God sends a giant fish or maybe a whale to swallow him, in which he stays safely for three days before being thrown up on shore) #safe vore

- Now we get to the actual part about voring Jesus

- The story of Jonah takes place in the Old Testament, before Jesus came to Earth. Everything in the Old Testament is a setup and explanation of what would eventually happen and be fulfilled by Jesus.

- In the Old Testament, death, Hell, and the grave are often surrounded by metaphors of an open mouth or of being swallowed. Jonah was in the fish for three days before being thrown up… Jesus died and was buried in a cave for three days before being resurrected

- But it gets better. The whole reason Jonah got into the situation with the storm was because he turned away from God. Humanity as a whole turned away from God when Adam and Eve chose to turn their backs on God, essentially (which was a big deal because he created the whole everything and thus has authority over it like an artist has authority over their own painting), and we all continue to do that when we do bad things that God doesn’t want us to do and don’t do good things that God does want us to do. Jesus came to cover that offense so we don’t bear the punishment for it and can be in perfect family relationship with God again, because God’s desire isn’t ultimately to punish us for our sin but to bring us back to him because he loves us. But because God is infinitely perfect and infinitely just, he can’t just allow all the evil that’s ever been done to just be… basically ignored. SOMEone had to be punished, and Jesus (who is also God- they’re like three people but also the same person at the same time, nobody really understands it)

- Thus, Jesus had to die

- Remember death and the grave being compared to being eaten? And Jonah, as a result of his disobedience, being swallowed for three days (this wasn’t a punishment, just a weirdly symbolic method of protection from what would have been the outcome)? And then Jesus, bearing the outcome of our disobedience, died and was buried for three days?

- Jesus was vored by death itself

- Then he escaped (didn’t just escape- defeated death, but that’s a layer of theology I won’t get into here)

- So yes, Jesus was vored, but not in Communion

- Also sometimes New Testament writers like Paul talk about being “hidden in Christ” so maybe…

- Jesus kinda vores us, too

- NOT REALLY- I said I was being serious but that was silly, it’s just that some of the language has those #safe vore, #protective vore, #extreme cuddling kinda *vibes* y’know?

- Anyway.

- I’m not going to hell for this because if I sinned by writing it, I’m safe in Jesus because he was already vored by death in my place. But I really don’t think this is a bad thing to do at all.

- Go forth in this knowledge and make theologically accurate-ish Jesus vore jokes

- If you want

- Lol

[scp-ao3-author]

Hi! Do you have any stories about the origin of something you wrote?

OH OH OH OH OKAY

SO UHHH LETS JUST DO THEM ALL

Lightning:

Lightning was my first attempt at a 100k fic. its currently on anonymous because I have a firm belief that A Certain Author is reading my work and that is very scary. There was an actual draft that made it TO 100k, but the plot sucked?

Like I detailed every moment of Y/N from birth to SCP Foundation because I was a very "Grrr... Accuracy" guy. and then I had an entire subplot between y/n and kondraki, which inevitably fails. there was a whole thing of Y/n's brain being fried from amnestics and someone was like "this is actually stupid :/" so i ended up rewriting it with whatever I pulled from my ass.

Confession booth:

Confession booth was supposed to be a crack fic. surprise surprise. my (ex) friend wanted me to write a crack fic of clef in a priest outfit. but he didnt seem... like the kind of guy to just do that for no reason? at least back then I figured him to be like that guy. since then, I have grown to learn more about clef so in hindsight, I would like to rewrite some of my older stories to be more fitting. But I made a plot to rationalize Priest Clef and well. thats what was created.

Hold The Line:

I was maladaptive Daydreaming to Give and Take by Poor Mans Poison and i thought I was going to die if i didnt share the thoughts in my head.

The Only World You Know:

I got tired of Iceberg being shitty and pathetic with no backstory. Had to flesh that sad little milkshake

Take the seeds:

Fin.

Memory:

I always had the headcanon that Francis had legitimately worked in the Foundation as a system well before taking control as Dr. Clef. But one of the questions that always begged in my head was like... How would he have reacted with the other staff? I experimented with Kondraki, who also went through his original change. The idea of Kondraki being part of the Montauk Procedure and spiraling actually came from Author Kondraki's old blog. the rest I pulled out my ass with the help of a few friends. The original story was supposed to be "They hate each other, but begrudgingly are forced to get along. thats it." but people were ADAMANT about making them fall in love. it was mildly uncomfortable but i rolled with it and i will admit. I kind of like how it turned out apart from the last chapter.

Its Like Dying:

I wanted to write a followup to Memory about how Francis affected Kondraki's life in such a way that when Kondraki finally realized he cared, it had been too late to actually follow through on that. He takes this out towards Clef, the man who suddenly appeared after Francis Dissapeared, but eventually learns to accept when something is gone forever, and hopefully when i get around to it again, he will move towards actually accpeting clef into his life, not knowing that hes the only other person who will treat him like hes not insane for knowing Francis Existed.

I Am Ready To See You Again:

its supposed to be like a ressurection idea not FOR resurrection but similar. they wake up, everything is new and strange. and different. but as they explore the memory of their previous lifetime goes away, and they have to adjust to their own world. It centers mainly around A Major what with their multi universal knowledge? the idea was SUPPOSED to be that at least. I got the intro out and.... I lost all my notes apart from "Gears finds 173"

They Dont Even Have Dental:

This was supposed to be a silly joke seminar about Clef hating the GOC for not having dental, a running gag between some of my friend groups. its like an unspoken agreement. that place sucks, they dont have dental. and then i planted a cute little bit of plot at the end for an... upcoming show im working on. dw. ill share the script.

when its done.

Francis Disturbed:

OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY THIS IS WHERE IT GETS INTERESTING.

HHHH OKAY SO.

this was built off of a million headcanons swirling in my little head, but the final headcanon that broke the google doc was this:

Francis was a premature baby.

lemme break this one down im a bit excited lol

in 4231, Francis loved lily. alot. and it hurt him because she hurt him, but he stayed nonetheless. that, plus having DID? probably meant that it was VERY unlikely he had a stable family life growing up. dads out of the picture, type greenery adapted at a young age... you know? it adds up. then there was the stuff about agora. I thought...

I honestly thought that Agora was laying the self-shaming and "I should have killed my son" stuff a bit... i hated it. Like it was good but it rubbed me the wrong way a little and after a moment im like... "What if... i worked with that idea?" and created a story about Francis' childhood dynamic. this is where it gets fun:

Ive been planning the next chapter for a little while now, but this all happened during a time period in which I did not EXIST, so i have to go around my writing carefully. the next chapter is going to be the after effects of what... Agora... Did... and after THAT we get to see Francis entering the GOC, and what happened to him in the Ichabod Campaign.

it gets a little funny there was going to be a bit where ukulele gets a balloon tied to his arm so his team can find him off-missions.

Now. this wont make sense, until you SEE the chapter but... I cant continue writing the story until I get a physical copy of IT by stephen king....

and i dont live near a library or book shop OR thrift store that has it.

And I hate amazon.

A Different Shade OF Green:

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH OH GOD

HHHHH lemme grab my notes uhhhh ADSOG has been planned for a WHILE

ACTUALLY HERES THE DRAFT

FAIR WARNING: TREAT this story like it is NOT the actual bones of ADSOG on AO3. I kind of just kept rambling, I wanted an arc for a story where Blackbird takes an interest into Francis, but it ultimately doesn't work out, ukulele appears more. Adam is a dick. Ten is more active in the story too. there's SO many differences between this and the actual story. AND the format is FUCKED

ADSOG was supposed to be a single one shot, where seven confronted clef about his issues. She responds to his dickish behavior by shoving a spoon into his face, and he replies by biting into it and slowly chewing it while they make eye contact. that was ALL the story was supposed to be. then i was like "I like the barber scene." that is actually a one shot on its own that i just blended into the draft and main story. there are SO gonna be more scenes in the main story where francis is stimmming. at some point or another though i had at one point built SO many one shot stories on them that i just said fuck it and made it all one big story and

oh my god.

you are going to cry at the ending.

Orangechild:

uhh this was actually a full narrative but then i hit up @tickedtimebomb and was like "give me a line that fucks and ill turn it into a poem" and that's how I got "and then i fed the world my soul" WHICH IS ALSO REFRENCED IN THE DRAFT OF ADSOG

idk if anyone's noticed or not but i have a million little red strings tying all of my story together. :D

intervention:

fin

eye for an eye:

Eye for an eye was created with the ongoing concept of "4231-a comes back, how will clef react?" but instead of the "he would cry and die" I decided to go for a "He's going to be pissed."

it is a vacation:

I had a silly idea of the doctors being sent to antarctica and i played with it a little with mattastr0phic because I wanted myriad in the story. I had another friend who helped me with the iceberg bit too. <3

in cod we trust:

I just wanted to give Cimmerian some shit.

apples and oranges:

I take commissions for writing. I was paid to make this, that doesn't mean I don't love it though i have EVERY chapter preplanned. as of right now, unfortunately, I am on pause for my writing because I burned myself a little bit on regular writing and am just sticking to script writing for some *cough* shows.

Ketchup and Mustard:

I am preparing for something called a "Kingson bomb" which is: whenever i have an extra amount of money laying around, I grab some artists and nab them to make Kingson commissions, thus making a small vault of Kingson art. when I reach an unholy large amount, I'm going to blast @finiffy with it and fucking kill them. one of the people I commissioned said something along the lines of "They are so ketchup and mustard to me" and well. I had to do it.

Bear your tombstone:

The idea for this story was actually the fact that it was supposed to be its own chapter in Francis disturbed, but i got WAY to excited making it to the point I just uploaded it on its own.

Seventeen minutes:

i wanted to autism code kondraki and have others see my vision.

Something New:

I want a story similar to Memory, I am specifically making this in honor of Amones, who has absolutely INCREDIBLE art!!!!!

THEY ARE ALSO MAKING A REALLY COOL VIDEO GAME AKFSJDKLF

tales of a greyhound stranger:

THIS story was inspired by 4231 and personal experience, but not in a sad way. 4231 briefly mentions that Francis rides on the Greyhound, a bus station that's prominent in Europe and America. I also ride greyhound (and will be going partially across country in about a month) and sometimes when you use the bus system, you come across some... REALLY interesting people. I think Francis had a beautiful time traveling and ended up having fun once in a while with others. I think he deserves nice things.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Just another short story about My Farmer OC Julian based on this headcanon by @reallyghostlypost Thanks for headcanon, I really like that idea ����

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

"Cassandra, behind you!"

Alesia shouted at the top of her voice, but she couldn't shout over the howling storm of the cursed sands and the roar of the monster as it swiftly approached the wounded Cassandra.

She knew... Alesia knew this was not going to end well. Her whole gut was screaming that they were in a hurry, that they were going on this expedition blind... But what could she do?

----------------A few days ago...----------------

The Ministry of Magic was adamant in giving its orders: an urgent reconnaissance of the western part of Crimson Baldlans. The discovery of that ill-fated shard had everyone worried, even the very top of the magic guild. It's understandable, because the cursed monster, stronger than its minions, dubbed by the fearsome name "Apophis", turned out to be created by something. Or worse, by someone...

Alesia had to admit, even her blood had frozen in her veins when Magnus had announced at the general meeting the result of the monster's studied part. Stronger than the usual cursed snakes. Much stronger, blasted thing! Her subordinates could barely cope with destroying the monsters under Castle Village's walls, and there were more and more of them. Camilla's barrier is still protecting the village, but the fact that the monsters are already starting to slowly split the first line of defense is already alarming.

No matter how the First Witch of Castle Village tried to persuade, bribe, or threaten the important bigwigs at the Ministry, the order remained the same: it must be tomorrow. After the meeting, Camilla was in a foul mood; no one dared disturb her as she strode off to her tower with heavy steps, heels clicking on the stone path.

Orders are orders, so a day later the group was assembled: Isaac, Cassandra, and Gertrude's specialty is perfect for this mission. Alesia and Lance would follow the group and cover it with arrows and battle magic. Except that before everyone was ready to step outside the main gate of the village, Gertrude, the most junior in rank among all the adventurers asked a quite logical question.

"Where's the guy who killed Apophis? Isn't he coming with us?"

There was that discussion, except that it was not a public one: Alesia herself had asked Camilla at the beginning why Julian hadn't been invited to the expedition. Camilla quoted the archmage's reply, filling every word with venom:

"The Ministry forbade us to take him on a mission."

This answer surprised both Alesia and Lance, who approached the two women. It didn't make much sense not to take the only person who could not just survive an encounter with Apophis, but also defeat the monster, thus becoming the discoverer of the void shard. Camilla understood all of this, and expressed this thought to the Archmage of the Ministry. The answer from the top head of the entire organization was still negative. Isaac and Cassandra agreed with the Ministry's decision, believing that the "farm boy" would be a burden in their secret mission.

"That 'burden' has done more in that short time than any of us have done in many years..." - Alesia though, but kept her thoughts to herself. She understood the order clear. No means no. Which, however, didn't stop her from feeling vapid about their mission.

-------------------Present time------------------

Everything was going well, everything was fine. They had reached the Crimson Baldlans' blind spot, the one from which no one had ever returned alive. Mummies and skeletons were falling from swords, arrows, and magic. The storm had already taken its toll on them, the sand and tornado in this place made it impossible to see beyond their own noses.

And then, there was a roar.

A growl that made them all freeze in horror for a moment. It took only a few seconds for Cassandra to fall to her knees, howling in sharp pain, staining the sand beneath her with her own blood.

The creature was fast, nimble.

And huge, merciful Yoba...

Alesia's arrows couldn't penetrate the serpent's skin, all she could do was dodge the blow. Lance instantly cast a fireball, driving Apophis away from everyone, at least for now. Gertrude's hands gripping her sword and shaking uncontrollably. Isaac, baring his teeth like a wild wolf, fought off attacks from lesser monsters and tried to see through the storm where Apophis had gone. The monster did not keep itself waiting, guided by the smell of fresh blood, with a jerk intending to deliver the last, mortal blow to Cassandra.

Alesia didn't have time to draw the string, Lance didn't have time to cast the spell, Isaac was too far away, Gertrude didn't move, frozen in place with horror.

Scream, the sniper only had time to shout... Yoba, they didn't have time, they didn't have time...

Apophis roared and quickly sped away from Cassandra, leaving behind a trail of pitch-black blood. A figure stood over her and shouted something into the distance. The wounded girl was already blurry in her eyes, but she felt Lance manage to run up to her and take her in his arms.

"We must leave, quickly!" - Julian, realizing the difficulty of the situation, dispensed with greetings and questions, all of which could wait until they found a safe place. Gertrude, finally coming out of her stupor, quickly took out a scroll and activated it, instantly teleporting all people to the cave with the minecart from Castle Village outpost.

Before finally disappearing from the accursed sands, Julian cold-bloodedly cut the smaller serpent into two halves with one blow of the sword, spattering his head and clothes with that same black blood.

While Lance and Julian gave Cassandra the life elixir, Isaac, Alesia, and Gertrude healed their own wounds. The sniper girl looked with relief at the pink-haired magician and the odd-eyed young man: if Julian had not come for help...

When everyone was convinced that Cassandra's life was not in danger, Julian was the first to break the silence:

"Guys, what were you doing there?..."

[gayspock]

OK SOMEEEE gripes

im ACTUALLY extremely conflicted on some of the present day stuff and i think its mostly down to the characters

like im very happy with jeff, and i think he's fine as is - brilliant, even, bc hes a genuinely refreshing take imo as opposed to what they could have easily done (i.e unlikable, distant from it all husband). not that he would be CRAZY or unreasonable to resent shauna, but like... its just fucking so much funnier + more interesting to me to see a character kind of just go with it, rather than to have them stew in angst. like i think its more interesting and allows for them to explore different beats than what you'd assume they would if you'd just known the basics of what shauna was up to. imo

similarly i was happy with adam as a character, too, and i think they developed him well enough for who he was and how he functions in this story. im glad he didnt turn out to be javi (if he was, i guess, bc he still could be technically that kinda suck wway more now tbh booo) and whilst there was nooo way he was gonna survive if he was just some guy which he was

theres also guys like kevyn. my jokes aside abt how scary he is im kinda fine with him, and i do actually makes some kinda sense that hes a cop + that he's now so straight-laced. some loser divorced dad. and it'd be a good comparison to natalie, and the lifestyle she lives now and how their paths diverged. however i kind of wish they'd... just let him go? like i wish he'd been at the reunion, and they'dhad that exchanged and then he'd just walked away to his wife and kids and her back to the yellowjackets no return no return no return huh what was that YEHA. my point is. i feel like there's no true resolution between them two thats organic and it just kinda feels weird to keep him around past that. i know they need a cop character for whats happening with shauna now but it just feels kinda ... bizarre to have him playing that role with that creep dude. bc whilst i do prefer limited characters in a show like this and to keep it tight and clean it just feels weird for it to be him and for it to be THAT insular AND, again, for him to keep sticking around when i dont feel like theres anywhere for him to go.... like its kinda DIFFERENT with the other cop dude, bc he isnt pre-established and he does kinda just function moreso as just. a fucking yuckhead fuckhead but instead its just this weird uhhhh. and kevyn is back! um. he will continue serving this purpose and we will never touch on him and natalie again. bc we shouldnt ofc but it also feels weird to have him there without ever mentioning it LOL

who else. fuck. like i am also very conflicted abt tai's wife and son like.... they do just feel a bit like- theyre just there? and i think that DEFINITELY makes some sort of narrative sense with tai, and with her whole deal- she has it all, she has everything but she has nothinnggg but... IDK KINDA SAD MAN. bc its weird i'll go back to this with jeff and callie, but it does make SENSE that the non-yellowjackets characters are always gonna be secondary with the story theyre telling in more ways than them just being secondary characters but with how fucking impossible it is to reconnect with fucking ANYONE after everything they did/went through BUT ITS LIKE... like i said i kinda like jeff and ironically his absolute lack of personality became a personality, whereas with simone&sammy i feel like theyre just kinda... SUPER functioning and that does kinda make me worry because whilst i know a lot of ppl are yelling for tai/van endgame... i dont know it feels weird to write them off fuckin completely which is what i feel like the show might kinda lean into at some point...😭like i want more for them, and from them. and i also sorry i also hate fucking "scary child who sees the supernatural" trope SORRYYYY its so tired to me and so lazy . give this kid some proper fucking development

and i think its also another issue im having with the present day stuff. theres too many characters rn and its being misspent. like do not get me wrong im not against quirky elijah wood BUT i feel like misty's ENTIRE. FUCKING. ARC. RIGHT. NOW. would be so much more fucking effective if she was alone and tracking down natalie by herself and kinda struggling with that. OR if they kept up her rapport with jessica- like have her tag along, whether it'd be under the guise of a fixer or not, and maybe have her cause some tension bc again if eel like.. ITS SO MUCH WEIRDER just having jessica's entire stint just come to an end in the way it did and it would have been a much more solid throughline into s2 than to bring in elijah wood whos just genderbent misty and its like . ok its just nott.... INTERESTING TO ME... SO WHAT. SHES FOUND A GUY LIKE HER? WHO CARES MAN. IM SAYING THIS AS A LITTLE FREAK WHO CANT CONNECT WITH OTHERS & YEARNS FOR KINSHIP, LIKE... I JUST FEEL LIKE ITS KINDA BACKWARDS AND REGRESSIVE AND NOTHINGGGG. jessica was a much weirder fucking dynamic and i think could have been interesting and i do think theres ways they could have had them both pursue natalie but now its just... ehhhhhh like

and i also feel like elijah wood is kinda bringing up the comedic parts of misty's story and dont get me wrong i LOVED a lot of the dark humour bits from her in s1 but i feel likw now its kinda getting too close to just. that. kinda like just oh funny joke funny dark humour. and losing a lot of the substance it should have, which is kinda necessary to the humour itself....AND he's sort of stealing her limelight like WHO CARES. GO AWAY DUUDE. have confidence in misty to be able to CARRY this shit, cmon, bc no offence elijah but SHE WAS WAY BETTER AT IT! bc thats whats so GOOD ABOUT THE SHOW OTHERWISE- you have the confidence to let all these girlies to carry their plotlines by themselves, so dont slip!!! GET BACK UP. and again im saying with the too many characters thing- its just... ehrhh. who cares to spend so much time on him??? whos just out of nowhere when its like.. again i'd prefer it if you spent that time with taissa or with .....

CALLIE. SHHES PROBABLY THE PERSON IM THE MOST CONFLICTED ON IN THE WORLD. bc in so many ways again i feel like we cant focus on her too much in shauna's little life that shes made for herself but I JUST... I CANT HELP BUT FEEL LIKE WE'RE IN THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE SPOT IMAGINABLE WITH CALLIE, wherein we dont get enough of her and her side to really empathise with her but we get too much of her to find her on the wrong side of irritating-AND THAT. SUCKS. THATS THE WORST. EVER. BECAUSE SHES LITERALLY A TEENAGE GIRL. I FEEL LIKE THERES SO MUCH MORE THEY COULD DO WITH THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN SHAUNA/CALLIE IF THEY PUSHED FOR IT MORE, BUT ITS JUST... again its in this such an awkwwaarddd position where they only bring her in to be difficult it feels like. and the thing is? shes being reasonable. MORE than. shes totally justified in all the shit shes doing. but bc of the unfortunate way its framed she comes off as...... sadly.... unlikable which . again AGAIN IT SUCKS. BECAUSE SHES A TEENAGE GIRL AND THIS FEELS LIKE THE FIRST SHOW IN A LONG TIME TO HAVE A CAST FULL OF UNLIKABLE FUCKING TEENAGE GIRLS BE THE BEST EVERRRRRR AND SHE COULD BE SO GOOD MAN SHE COULD BE SUCH A GOOD WAY FOR SHAUNA TO LOOK INTO THE PAST BUTEE..... they kinda just write her off too and bring her up to cause complications obly. thats all it is. and i dont know i do get it i dooo get it bc again it makes SENSE with shauna and who she is and where her life is that the presentation would thereforebe kinda more her perspective but also... i do just feel... ITCHES. LIKE IM CLAWING AT THE WALL

ok last thing maybe idk. idk how i feel about lottie at all. its strange. i felt like she..... was kinda not present enough in s1. does that make sense ever at all. i wish we had more from her and her whole visions thing, and she had as much focus in the past as the others did from the very beginning. bc i feel like in s1... we didnt see enough of her in that regard? like we got her- we got bits of her. but not enough of her-her. bc im fine with her kinda story on paper (ish) and how its playing out but i t does feel weirdly unba;anced across s1 / s2. and its throwing me a bit there

[unofficialadamtaurus]

FINALLY HAVE TIME TO READ AGAIN LETS FUCKING GO EPILOGUE!!

holy SHIT you weren’t kidding when you said this one was all about the vibes! Which is like my absolute FAVORITE thing about your work. legit the first paragraph already had me like 🫨 and I AM FUCKING LIVING for all the details that just add more to Adam. it is EVERYTHING!!

the whole description of mine #9 is amazing!! the sounds, the lighting, the weather, the state it’s in??? for real you just have this way with presenting a scene and setting that is 😩 SO GOOD.

His palms twinged and he gingerly tugged off his gloves. On his palms, up his fingers, and even across the backs of his hands lingered silvery bands of scar tissue from that foolish attempt to escape. He couldn't even remember the reason for the argument with his parents that had prompted him to run; he only remembered the pain in his hands and his father yanking him down to cover moments before a spotlight swept over where he had been. He remembered, too, his mother cleaning and wrapping his wounds with tears shining in her eyes.

GODDAMN first memory in and I’m already emotional. that memory is so fucking poignant

“Come," he told the wolves, and though his voice shook his will did not.

THAT IS FUCKING HYPE

And seriously I gotta it again because holy SHIT I LIVE for how everything is presented

THIS PART ESPECIALLY

He turned from the main path onto the smaller one splitting between the faunus dorms. He paused at the second building on the left. Its back half had collapsed, but the doorway remained—though the door itself hung crooked on its hinges and had gotten stuck in the ground.

If he looked, and he could not bring himself to do so, he'd find a series of scratches in the metal frame, each one labeled with initials. His height, the heights of other children who had grown up and died here.

He closed his eyes. Beneath the wind, there were echoes: conversations too distant to remember more than the hum of voices, sharp peals of laughter, and encouragement for the weary.

When all of that resolved into a sharp shout to get back to work, Adam opened his eyes. His gaze dropped automatically to the scratches and for the first time he saw that three of the height markings formed a distinct symbol, disguised amid the rest.

JFC LEGIT one of my favorite moments in HP right there. oh my god it is constant gut punches reading this part, and the mix of describing his memories and the scenery is v well done!

The woman hadn't realized Adam was listening. She probably would have regretted putting the idea in his head if she had. Gods knew she would regret what he became.

GOD MY FUCKING CHEST HURTS

"I'd ask forgiveness," he told the roses, "but I think I've done the unforgiveable."

UGHH god that line but also THEY’RE ROSES. THE FLOWERS SHE GREW WERE FUCKING ROSES I-😭

These roses were only out of control because he, in his cowardice, had refused to return. The least he could do was bleed as he made his apology.

STOOOPPPPP IT GUY. HE IS SOOOOO IWBZSUWBVSUBWBWKB

He traced those names with his fingers. The stonemason he'd commissioned had looked at him with such pity when he made his request. The first names without last names, the blank spaces, the names he knew he hadn't recalled correctly, every single one a story cut short.

This was a flawed memorial. It was also the only one he had. His attempts to track down records, personnel lists, company documentation—all had ended in failure. No one had bothered keeping a record of the faunus who had lived and died here. Their ghosts were his and his alone.

GODDD. Like I just know he carried that the whole time. How he went searching for info. In every mission, every win or loss in the WF ughh 🤧

His sorrow and nostalgia here are so heart wrenching. Just how and what he lost is really put into detail and it fucking HURTS. and he still wants to do good, and he now fully believes he CAN now 😭😭

My guy I fuckin' salute you for making it all the way through to the end and giving me these top-tier reactions the whole time. The fact that the vibes in the epilogue came through crystal-clear to you puts a huge smile on my face.

It was very satisfying for me to have one chapter at the end of Hollow People to actually give Adam a backstory and - even if it's belated - kind of bring things full circle for him. His history's alluded to throughout the story, you get a pretty good idea of it from the way he acts and thinks, but he's actually kind of a black box...right up until the epilogue. And that's when you can look back and see his perspective so much more clearly (at least when he's not sleep deprived and trying to murder his ex).

It's an ending that I hope leaves you feeling as bittersweet as hopeful.

[residentdormouse]

Hello hello! Just stopping by to hear a little about whichever WIP(s) you want to share about! What do you hope readers pick up on from your WIP? What do you hope is their favorite aspect of it?

💞 Thank you for the ask! 💞

The only real WIP I have right now is 'Close to the Vale'. (Main Intro Post for this story) All general summaries and prior asks are collected on this main page. I only have about 4k/2 chapters into it fully written out though (outline is putting this around 75-100k and probably 28-30 chapters once all is said and done), so its still in the very early stages. Nothing has been posted yet, and with an 'original' story, not sure how I go about that. I guess AO3 has a section for original, but does that open it up for theft? I don't know, its not like anything here is truly original. Everything influences everything. Eh, digressing...

Honestly, I'm not sure what I want people to pick up from it. (That's probably bad...) For me, its about keeping characters alive in my head. I've already written 287k in an OC insert fanfiction series for the newest version of 'the Stand', and when that was done, I wrote just shy of 5k in unrelated canon compliant one-shots afterwards. And even after all that, I'm still not over these characters. So what more can I write here? *crickets* If we're being up front, Paul's character is very much Glen coded, and Adam will be very much in the realm of Lloyd. Personally, I don't want to let them go; I love them. So this is me, making up a completely unrelated story, stealing what I like about these fictional guys so I can implant those traits on 'new' characters, and shoving them in a whole new world. All because my ass can't cope with the loss of Blorbo serotonin. Maybe a claim could be made that this story is about the struggle and inability to let go? Because here's me, the author, not doing that so well.

I would hope that this story is an enjoyable ride. Little hooks at the end of chapters that make you want to keep going, but nothing so far out there that it gets too dense. I want it to be supernatural yet realistic and accessible. Reveals and twists, but none that are completely out of left field or just there for shock. A mix of dark humor and action, with some slight horror elements, along with a romance of sorts. But I want it to be character driven above all else. I don't know, maybe that's too much, or maybe that's too basic. Hard to gauge. I guess we'll see when it's done? Hopefully somebody will let me know 😅

[thatrandomartistjavi]

So I’m someone who doesn’t really like this movie and I’m gonna like try and explain as best as possible why I don’t like the movie all that much.

This is all coming from the perspective of someone who really likes the Alice stories so you have to keep that in mind but a lot of like Wonderland has just been like sucked of it’s whimsy. Most everything are these ugly colors of grey and blue with only really a few moments of greenery which is very important when it comes to Wonderland. It sucks too cause in promos we see that the shots had more color and it still gave off the vibe of a dying Wonderland and then they just didn’t use them??? Also them changing the name from Wonderland to Underland is unnecessary as all hell and more seems like Tim and his writers thought that a place called Wonderland was “Too childish for their very mature movie” and decided to make fun of the people who think that Wonderland is a good name.

Underland is also such a boring name like holy hell

The opening party is way too long because they’re trying to give you parallels for the Wonderlandians is just ugh to me. Since there’s a whole thing about Alice realizing that this world and it’s people are real and in very real danger, and that she needs to start actually giving a shit. And then try to make that point mute by trying really hard to still keep the parallels up and try to convince that it was “Actually a dream”

Alice’s arc is also like kinda paradoxical because it’s about how she needs to follow her own path and not let other people decide what she should be doing and how she shows this ability to choose is to do exactly want her to do and slay the Jabberwock. Which like isn’t a good way to show her autonomy because she really has no choice, she either does what everybody wanted her to do in the first place or let these people be enslaved and murdered by a dictator. It would’ve been much better if the Oraculum had prophesied that they needed her as a sort of sacrifice for the Jabberwock and then spat in its stupid pages by being the one to slay it.

This one is more personal cause Cheshire is my favorite Alice character but I LOATHE how they portrayed him here. Chessur, as a character, is fine. He was kinda the only character I really cared about. What I DONT like is how adamant they are to portraying him as like an asshole when like he has done nothing of the sort?? Like the scene where Tarrant screams at Chessur for not saving his clan on Horunvendush Day is so stupid because 1. Nobody has anticipated that day it literally came out of nowhere and 2. He is not noted to be someone in a position to protect Wonderlandian citizens so he ran just like everyone else on that day. Like he wasn’t even shown in the flashback(none of the animals were) so why is HE being held responsible for a tragedy that NOBODY SAW COMING!!! The first draft had a way better version of this scene where it’s more talking about how Chessur doesn’t care what’s happening with Iracebeth’s rule because Well I don’t know those people and she doesn’t affect me all that much so why should I care which would actually make him an asshole!! But nooooooo he has to be the one to be screamed at because the world is falling apart and he would rather not here about Iracebeth while having tea with his friends. And Tarrant never apologized or makes up for hos years of yelling in either movie and it’s Chessur who has to redeem himself like gtfo of here

Also none of the animals characters really have much development other than their relationship with the human characters. Like the most we get is Bayard who has a wife and kids but that isn’t much. Like we never get to really see their perspectives on things or history for them unlike Tarrant who gets a whole flashback and shit. Like these guys are being hunted down and enslaved and you’re telling me they have NO THOUGHTS ON THIS??? Ok man

So yeah this movie isn’t horrible but like at least for me, it isn’t that good either. One of its biggest crimes is that it gets really boring a lot of the times

I just watched the Alice in Wonderland live action movie (the 2010 one) because I remember watching it when I was younger and it was a very important memory to me, so I looked for it and rewatched it

But apparently it's very hated??? And bad?? Why? I was looking for some reasons in Google and most of the stuff I saw could he easily disproven, at least from this one specific thing I found (I haven't been looking that much but the reasons seem pretty stupid ngl)

Can someone give me good reasons why it's bad?? Without the whole "Alice looks bored the entire time besides the scene where she was falling down a hole" she thought she was dreaming so I can understand that one

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

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

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[mercurygray]

A Ghost! Joan AU, because @shoshiwrites started it.

He was only doing this as a favor.

Every time he said that, people laughed - that’s a pretty big favor, renovating a whole house, but none of them understood what Lew had done for him, really done for him, since he’d gotten home, and if fixing up the ancestral mansion so that Lew could sell it was the way he could pay it all back, then that was just what he was going to do.

It was a beautiful house, with turn of the century wood paneling and built-ins for days, but Lew’s mother had made some renovations in the 80s that hadn’t aged well, and after no one had lived in the house for the last fifteen years there were problems that needed to be solved before it went on the market again, desirable features to be added back in so the real estate listing would sound good - new furnace, new roof, granite countertops, refinished hardwood floors.

“And the ghost, of course.”

Yes - the ghost. Dick had actually laughed when Lew had brought it up the first time, like this was actually a feature people would be interested in, but his friend was adamant. “She’s pretty benign, as far as spirits go -  Story goes that they were having a party celebrating the war being over and then she got the telegram that her fiance was dead. She was so overcome she wandered outside into traffic - got hit by a car. My sister claimed she could see her, sometimes, when my parents had people over, but I never did." Lew grinned. "Makes for a great story, though, doesn't it? It'll be a nice story for the buyers - people love that kind of stuff."

‘People’ might, but the idea held little appeal to Dick. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in ghosts - he was just as prepared as the next guy to admit there were some things that he simply couldn’t understand. But an actual ghost, haunting this house? Just a story, as far as he was concerned - and after three weeks of living here, he had no evidence of any spirit, benign or no. Drapes stayed unruffled, paint remained in its cans, no doors closed of their own accord. It was an old house, like any old house, filled with the remnants of several lives - loads of furniture to be junked or salvaged, old photo albums to be hauled out of corners, closets of clothes that needed to be consigned to the junk bin - or the local charity shop. 

It was the first time in a while that he’d had a place to think of as his own, and he was finding he quite enjoyed it - he was living out of what had once been the drawing room, on the first floor, pocket doors open to the sitting room beyond. These spaces had needed the least work, so it was the easiest to set up his bed here. It was a room in transition - a little of everything. He’d moved in a kitchen table to use as a desk, sheets still over some of the room’s armchairs. The truly ancient couches had gone to the curb, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of the record player, a huge sideboard thing in dark mahogany that somehow matched the paneling, if not the feel of the rest of the house. The records, too, had stayed - a time capsule of a different era, mostly light listening from the 40s and 50s. Not a bad way to spend an evening.

Dick flipped idly through the records in the cabinet and selected one at random - some big band conductor. The machine turned on straightaway when he moved the arm, carefully settling it along the record's edge so that the vinyl could crackle and pop for a moment before starting up.

He fiddled with the volume knob for a moment and sat back down with his coca cola and the parts catalog for the kitchen cabinets, legal pad and pencil at the ready. He already had the measurements and if he made the list, it would be easier to go shopping tomorrow with a complete picture in mind.

"You have good taste."

Dick didn't scare easily, but he nearly jumped out of his chair, eternally glad he didn't spill his soda pop in the process.

There was a woman on the other side of the room - vaguely misty, like he needed to clean his glasses to see her better. Her short, dark hair was elegantly arranged, and she was wearing pearls and a party dress - or what looked like a party dress, anyway. 

"Did I...leave the door open?"

She shook her head, still smiling a little. "I heard the music and thought I'd...make an appearance. Tuxedo Junction," she offered. "By Glenn Miller. Our favorite."

Dick realized what she was saying, really saying, and tried to get his galloping heart under control. "You're the ghost."

"My mother taught me it was impolite to address people when you don't know their names," she said, just a little pointedly, and he felt himself blush.

"Dick Winters," he said, hurriedly, though he wasn't sure why, holding out his hand and then realizing, belatedly, that she wasn't going to be able to take it. "I'm sorry, Lew never said -"

"Joan Warren," she said, smiling at the brief comedy of him offering his hand, looking down at it, and then shoving it into his pocket. (She had a nice smile. Could he say that?) "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Winters. And I'm sure Lewis has forgotten my name - if he ever knew it at all." 

Lewis - like he was a younger brother or a cousin she had to put up with occasionally. Well, he'd grown up in this house, hadn't he? If she'd been here that long, maybe he was still a child to her. The prospect of being forgotten didn't seem to make her very happy, and Dick decided to change the subject. "So have you...been here long?" God, Dick, what kind of question is that?

Another enignmatic, patient smile. "Since the night I left. Isn't there always something about unfinished business? I think you know what mine was."

"I'm sorry," Dick offered, not knowing what else there was to say. The record had moved on to the next song, and he was forming an image in his mind of what this room must have looked like, the night of that party - men in tuxedos and women in party dresses, everyone drinking champagne and high on life.  Lew's...grandfather, probably, or his great-grandfather, presiding over the whole thing. The war was over, and soon everyone would be coming home. Everyone except her fellow, I guess.  "That must have been...indescribable."

"Truth be told, I don't remember much of it," she admitted. "Mrs. Nixon was wearing gardenias, and there was too much rum in the punch. Then I remember - the buttons on the Western Union man's jacket. After that..." she gave a slight shrug. "I was gone, and then I...came back."

"Do you...make appearances very often?"

She shook her head. "No, not often. But when emotions are high - a party, or a fight." A brief, dry chuckle. "I think you know this house has seen a lot of fights." God, did he ever. "Blanche and I had an understanding. I'd sit by her bed and sing to her." A thought occurred. “Is she doing all right? Blanche? I haven’t seen her in the longest time.”

Dick thought about Lew’s younger sister, last seen on Instagram in Bali on a yoga retreat for the rich and famous after having dumped yet another deadbeat boyfriend. Still trying to find herself - that was what he always thought of when Lew’s sister came to mind. Both of the Nixons were trying to find themselves - Lew at the bottom of a bottle for a while, and Blanche by - wandering. “She’s doing okay,” he said.

“I suppose I should let you go. You were - in the middle of things.”

He shrugged. As hauntings went, this one had been pretty pleasant - and if he was being really honest, he was glad for the company. "It was very nice to meet you, Miss Warren. I know you're around, but you're welcome...any time.”

She smiled at that, turning around and walking out of the room, slowly fading out as she went. Dick stared at the empty space near the doors into the hall, and suddenly realized something. If there wasn’t a fight or a party - why did she come? He looked at the record player, circling now in silence, and rose from his chair to turn it off, reading off the eventual real estate listing in his head. 

Recently refinished hardwood floors and exterior landscaping. Also comes with well-behaved ghost who enjoys Glenn Miller.

[madametrashbin]

Wishful Dreaming

In which I pretend Part 3 of Inazuma’s story doesn’t exist and everyone is alive before shit goes down. Yes, people who read this, it’s time for best friend headcanons/drabbles/whatever the hell this is with Teppei. Honestly, it’s just no thoughts head empty right now and I might have gone off tangent a lot.

(And by a lot, I mean the majority of this piece, probably... by the way, credits to @streimiv and @myuni-moon for making my brain be hyper focused on Self Aware Cult Genshin... I can’t get it out of my head as of right now.)

Enjoy, even if it’s never going to be beta-read by anyone and I will never go back to edit this even if I find mistakes in this later on... and I also don’t know where my brain went for this, but what’s done is done. 

I’m not even sure if I did his personality correctly, ahaha...  (；^ω^)

(I’m going to project my denial in this, so please know it might be wince inducing and incredibly self-indulgent.)

The sun is bright at this time of day, the gentle breeze flowing through the tranquil lands of Inazuma, leaving those who are experiencing the nice morning in a blissful escape from its current reality. 

...much like a young foreigner who had left their current abode, leaving behind a note for their caretakers to see as they wander around the land of Eternity for some true fresh air and peace of mind away from the group that had more or less made their life a little too suffocating as of late.

It is also incredibly lonely in there, as they come to understand that no one (for the most part) look at them like they were a regular human... like they were them.

So they now wander, taking in the rarity of solitude that does not come as easily as one might think. Inazuma is beautiful, even if they know that the peace they see around these parts are but a veil that shields the horrible reality going on around them.

(They know what was happening outside the city, outside the teapot they were living in since they were brought here. They’ve experienced it happening before, many times in fact. They know what will happen, and they’re determined to change it. They just need to find a certain someone, and then they’re set.)

Meeting Teppei was something you didn’t really expect all that much, considering you knew he should be still a part of the logistic division of the Resistance Army and would be busy in their current base that was all the way to Yashiori Island.

Yet by sheer luck, or by fate, you meet the good fellow on Narukami Island and had managed to make a pretty good friendship with him over the course of coincidental meetings.

You’ve come to learn a few things about the young man, and it was that he was a pretty trusting guy, didn’t even think twice of being friends with you... which was a little worrisome, considering what happened in the actual storyline.

That’s okay though, you’ll make nothing happens to him... he is one of your only true friends in this world, after all.

“Teppei.”

They call to him as the Resistance Samurai turned his head away from the sight of the Tenshukaku to them.

“Is there anything you wish for? I mean, if you could have one wish granted, anything you want, what would it be?”

The young man looked rather confused at them, before they briefly clarified that they were just curious. As much as they enjoy the peacefulness of silence, they wanted to know what he really wanted... wondering if he really wanted a Vision, for the acknowledgement of the Gods.

“What would I wish for...”

The young man was quiet for a while, no doubt mulling it over before smiling when he comes to an answer, his head lifting to look at the glimmering stars.

“I would wish for the war to end... for the Sakoku Decree and Vision Hunt Decree to be abolished so people won’t have to suffer anymore.”

“Really? Not a Vision, or something like that?”

“Well, having a Vision would be nice, but thinking about it... I think it’s better if everyone is happy. A lot of people are suffering, and even if I did get a Vision, it’s still pretty difficult to win the war against the Shogunate.”

They could only hum quietly in understanding after that, not really certain what else to ask him before he gives them the same question. 

What do they wish for?

To go home. They would have said, but they chose not to because they knew there was probably little chance for them to be allowed to go home... Their “acolytes” are rather over-protective and notably possessive towards them, probably rampaging around Inazuma right now in search of them.

Well, they at least know what they’re going to do once they inevitably find them.

“Isn’t it time you should head back to your camp, Teppei?”

“Huh? Oh, right! It’s getting late! Then, if I have time, I’ll see you again!”

And he’s off in a rush, disappearing when he turned around the rocky walls and out of their sight. At the same time as he left, the bushes behind them rustle, and a frantic Zhongli appears with Venti following behind... both relaxed significantly once they saw them in perfect condition.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, Your Grace. It’s dangerous for you to go outside on your own like that.”

“Please don’t worry us like that again.”

They immediately take to their sides, quickly ushering them to head back to the Teapot before they stopped them in their tracks. 

“Your Grace?”

“I need to do something. Will the both of you accompany me for this?”

...and by the following morning, an official announcement is made to all of Inazuma with the abolishment of both the Sakoku Decree and Vision Hunt Decree. 

Teppei is rushing over to them with a beaming smile on his face when they meet again that noon, the young man happily shares the good news with them while they simply smiled and nodded along with what he said even if they knew the reason behind it.

They don’t tell him anything, nor mention that it was thanks to him that it ended... well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Extra, because why not:

It becomes a frequent part of your days now that the War in Inazuma was over. Hanging out with Teppei as often as you could, granted you’d have a few people trailing in the shadows at all times, watching over you so you don’t pull the same stunt again.

You have to spend a bit of time giving warning glares behind you whenever Teppei mentions the cold chills that makes his bones shiver despite the relatively warm weather. 

When the two of you get roped up into a bit of trouble (whether by lingering Fatui grunts, stray Ronins or local Treasure Hoarders seeking to rob you), Teppei would always jump in between you and them, saying he’ll protect you as he holds his spear (that he brings with him out of habit).

...you thinks it’s endearing with how he’s trying to be brave, as you can see his hands shake just a tad bit due to the numbers.

But as much as you want to let him have his moment, you prefer that your friend doesn’t get himself hurt and therefore skillfully lead him away from the danger while the rest (your cult) dealt with them.

When you feel like the divine treatment is starting to get too overwhelming, and you’re feeling a little too lonely, you always make your way to Teppei who is there to provide comfort even if you never really talked about what’s troubling you.

Your friendship with Teppei is strong, even if you rarely talk about yourself to him and how he’s told you practically everything about himself.

There’s just something about that trust that bring you a lot of comfort... it gave a different feeling compared to Zhongli or Fischl’s kind of trust... it was warmer, and felt more like home.

You’re also very adamant in keeping him away from the whole cult business, not wanting him to think of you like how the others did... you don’t want to lose that friendship that practically kept you sane in this world.

The amount of times you have to keep reminding your cult to leave him be is absurd, and as much as they protest about him, the fact you’re upset at them for that is enough to get them to stop.

...for a while, at least. They go at it again for a while when Teppei does something they don’t like until you actually snapped at them. They stopped bothering him after that.

If Teppei does eventually find out about the cult, which will most likely happen because of Kokomi, you would be genuinely terrified in the beginning of it until he gives you proper reassurance that it doesn’t change anything.

Now he’s allowed to see you in the Teapot, often visiting with curious snacks he finds and occasionally sleeping over when you are feeling particularly lonely.

Overall, a very pleasant friendship to have. Being one of the few you can really be open with and not be concerned about how you’re viewed as.

Wholesome boy will always have your back whenever you need him... even if he is a little intimidated by the Raiden Shogun and the other intimidating acolytes that are a part of your cult.

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 1)

summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 2875

warnings: smut... sort of (oral f receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism (kinda?), touch of angst, lots of pining and awkwardness, jealous bucky being jealous, alcohol use (reader gets drunk)

Nothing annoyed you like being surrounded by stylists and being primped and prodded for hours at a time.  It made you feel claustrophobic to be touched so much: makeup artists only inches from your face, tailors watching you change, hairstylists nearly spraying you in the eye or burning you on the forehead every few minutes.

Not to mention how uncomfortable it was to actually be in the whole get-up once they were done.

But, such was the nature of a red carpet event.  This one was going to be particularly bland because it wasn't even a premiere or awards event but a launch party for a perfume campaign.  How lame is that?  It's one of those things that really only exists so that there can be pictures of it to put in a magazine, because they're always running out of good pictures of celebrities to publish.

Finally all dolled up to the point that you didn't look even very much like yourself anymore, your assistant accompanied you downstairs and into your driveway where your car was waiting; and, more importantly, its driver and your driver, Bucky.

He was a gruff sort of guy; certainly a man of few words and many brooding glares.  Sometimes you thought he didn't like you— like maybe he resented your fame or something— but then he'd turn around and be so sweet all of a sudden and you didn't know what to think.  For one, he demanded to open the door for you every time you got out of the car.  Sometimes he even extended his hand for you to grab on to, which was especially useful for red carpet events when you were usually wearing skinny heels that were impossible to balance on.

Such was the case tonight as well, and you smiled up at him as he helped you out of the car and up towards the steps of the venue.

"Thank you," you smiled at him, and he barely smiled back.

"Have a good night, madam," he suggested, a formal stuffiness to the way he addressed you.

You nodded,  "You too!"  That made you pause, though, because you weren't sure what his night would entail at all.  "Say, what is it that you do when I'm at an event like this?"

He seemed confused by your question.  "Um, I sit in the car and wait until you're ready to leave."

Guilt seared in your chest and you frowned.  "That's it?  You don't, like, go out?  Catch a movie?"

"Nope.  That would prevent me from doing my other job, which is watching the points of entry to make sure there aren't any threats to security going in."

"Right…" you trailed off.  "You could always come in, you know, grab some free drinks and stuff."

"I thought you didn't want any of your team following you around at events."

"Yeah, don't follow me around, just mingle and kill some time!"

Bucky shook his head.  "If I'm not there as your driver or as your security, then I'm not there."

You shrugged.  "Suit yourself, but please feel free to, like, get some food or whatever you wanna do while I'm in there!  Don't just wait on me!"

He smiled, but it looked a little rehearsed. "Thank you, madam."

You realized he'd been holding your hand through the entire conversation, cause you'd asked him your question midway through getting out of the car.  Awkwardly, you finally dropped his hand and waved goodbye, escorting yourself up the last few steps and into the door.

God, he must think I'm such a freak.

//

God, she must think I'm such a freak.

Bucky munched on the sandwich he'd had delivered (yes, to the car, how else was he supposed to get it?) as he dutifully watched the entrance.  Against your advice, he had every intention of just sitting around and waiting for you, but he wasn't bored; he had a Mets game on the radio to keep him company.

"— top of the third, bases loaded, DeGrom is at the plate with one swing left aaaaaand… he strikes out!"

"Shit," Bucky grumbled to himself around a mouthful of pastrami.

Glancing up, he saw someone stumbling out of the party: squinting, he realized it was you.  He looked at the clock with a furrowed brow, noticing it was a little earlier than he'd thought you'd leave, but then he saw that there was someone with you… a guy.

Bucky set his sandwich down and turned the key in the ignition as he watched you pull your phone out of your clutch— ostensibly to text him to bring the car around, but he was already ahead of you, quickly exiting the parking lot and circling the building so he could pull up at the steps.  He was about to get out to open the door for you but this random guy did it instead, before tumbling in after you.

"That tickles!" you protested with a giggle as your new friend started to kiss your neck, his hands all over you before Bucky had even gotten the car moving.

You were too drunk and distracted to notice that the partition was still open.  Of course Bucky had considered closing it, in fact he wanted more than anything to close it so he wouldn't have to see this, but some sick part of his brain needed to see it.  How else could he know if something went wrong and he had to get back there and stop it?  How else would he keep you safe?

How else would he get to find out how you sound when you're being touched like this?

He couldn't see too well with it being the middle of the night and all, but every time he drove past a streetlamp or particularly bright neon sign, the colorful glow would shine in and cast light over your neck where your head had fallen back in pleasure; or your collarbones, exposed where your dress had been pulled down; or your chest, rising quickly with the speed of your panting breaths.

Ogling you in the rearview mirror made him feel like a total creep, but it satisfied a bit of the urge he'd been feeling ever since he started driving you.  He wasn't actually a driver, at least not usually; he was more or less your bodyguard at this point, but you were really adamant about having a small detail and so that was why he was working double-duty tonight… and why he'd been doing so for almost three months now.

"Baby," you gasped, and his eyes shot right back to your reflection; you were writhing against the seat, and he could just barely see the top of the guy's head where it was buried between your legs.  You took your bottom lip between your teeth, lips curling into a relaxed smile.  His cock was not only hard but throbbing at this point, as if that was going to do him any good.  He barely ever got to look at you, and he knew he would never, ever be able to touch you— beyond holding your hand as you stepped out of the car, at least.  Whenever he did that, he imagined for a moment that he wasn't your driver at all but your date, that he would get to keep your hand as he guided you down the red carpet with him.  Not that he wanted any of the attention that you got, of course, but at the same time he did like the idea of all those photographers snapping pictures of his arm around your waist, or you looking up at him with your hand on his chest.  They'd all run stories wondering what a beautiful, successful, massively talented woman like you was doing with a guy like him, but he wouldn't find the energy to care about crap like that if he had you all to himself.  

Another whimper from you pulled him out of his daydream, reminding him to focus on the road as best he could.  He knew you would hate him if you knew that he'd thought about you like that.  Or if you knew about all those times he'd checked in on you while you slept at night and lingered a bit too long.  Or if you knew that he had rewatched that one sex scene you'd done in your last movie about a thousand times.  It always broke his heart to see you underneath some other guy (his name was either Dermot Mulroney or Dylan McDermott or possibly Dermot McDermott?) and yet it turned him on like nothing else to watch you immersed in pleasure.  Similarly, now, he couldn't stand knowing it was someone else making you moan the way he was hearing, but it was the best he was ever gonna get.

"Oh god," you sighed, "fuck, yes, yes, oh my god yes—"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel and it must have been the noise of the leather stretching that made you notice him; as if every dream and nightmare of his was coming true at once, your gaze met his in the reflection of the rearview.

He was so screwed, and he was totally going to get fired tomorrow, but he couldn't look away.  Your eyes were like dark magic the way they pulled him in, kept him locked on you as his face started to burn so hot it could cook an egg.  

Staring you down, he saw your mouth fall slack as your hands reached down to grab your date's hair and tighten into fists.  Shivers shot down his spine as he imagined the way it would feel if you pulled his hair like that.  

The longer you kept looking at him, the more a very dangerous thought danced in the back of his mind…

What if she wants me to watch?

Which, even more concerningly, started to slowly morph into another idea…

What if she wants me?

He was sure you were coming.  It wasn't obvious; you didn't say anything, didn't moan too loud, didn't scream or sob or call out any names (which made it easier to pretend it was for him) but he could tell.  Your swollen lips were parted silently as he watched your breath catch in your chest, and your hands clenched around fistfuls of hair.  What he would give for you to pull his hair like that, and come for him like that— except he wouldn't have stopped there, unlike your current companion who was already moving back up your body to kiss you hungrily.  

He'd always thought you had really pretty hands, and they looked pretty good sliding over the back of this guy's suit jacket, but he liked them best when they gently pushed him off.  "We're almost there," you mumbled as Bucky turned the car into the driveway, using his fob to open the gate.  

Once he'd come to a stop outside your door and turned off the engine, the three of you exited and stood up as you yawned and stretched.

"You'll take Jack here home, right?" you asked Bucky quickly.

"It's Jake…" the man corrected with hesitance.

"Right, Jake," you smiled, "you'll take him to his place, right?"

Bucky gave the guy a smile dripping with gloating contempt, loving the disappointed look he was wearing as he realized he wasn't going to be spending the night in your bed.  "It'd be my pleasure," he announced coldly.

"Great, thanks," you sighed.  Standing on your tiptoes to give the guy a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder, you thanked him for a great night and made your way into the house.

Jake looked around in confusion for a moment before getting back in the car along with Bucky, sighing and running his fingers through his hair.

"What address am I going to?"

"Uh, 333 15th Street, in Brooklyn," the guy replied, pausing to let out a soft but incredulous laugh as the car began to move.  "Level with me, man: does she… do this kind of thing, a lot?  You know: bring guys over, make it seem like something's gonna… happen, but then just send ‘em back home and never call again?"

With a silent glare, Bucky rolled up the partition.

//

You heard the front door, even from your current location of the shower upstairs, and knew Bucky was home— okay, not exactly ‘home’ since he didn't leave here full-time, but home in the sense that he was in your home and in the place he would be staying tonight.  You just hoped he'd actually stopped the car before kicking Jake out; he never cared much for when you had guys over or really just interacted with guys at all, because of the "security risks" or whatever.

Next, you heard him coming up the stairs and passing by your door.  "Hey, Bucky, you out there?" you called to him.

"Yeah, what is it?" he answered through the door. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just—" you stopped when you heard the crinkling of paper.  "What is that?  Do you have food?"

"Um, yeah," he answered.

Your stomach growled; the event had only had tiny hors d'oeuvres, and the alcohol in your system enhanced your desire for a midnight snack.  "What kinda food?"

"It's a sandwich— well, what's left of one: I was eating it while I waited for you."

"Are you gonna finish it?" you asked curiously.

"No, I was thinking I'd put it in the fridge for tomorrow."

You paused a bit before asking, "Can I have it?"

"Yeah, sure, you can get it in the morning—" he began.

"No, now!" you clarified.

There was a pause before he responded.  "Right now?  In the shower?"

"Yeah, just bring it in here!"

"I-I'll let you finish showering first—" he stammered.

"No, Bucky," you whined, "just come in here!  I'm hungry!"

Another pause before he finally opened the door, his blurry figure visible through the steam-covered frosted glass. 

"What's on it?" you asked as you washed the last of your shampoo out of your hair.

"It's pastrami on rye with jalapeños, fresh mozzarella, pesto and some sort of spicy aioli or something."

"Ooh, come to mama," you purred as you reached over the top of the door with opening-and-closing grabby hands, squeeing with glee when he placed the wax paper package in your grasp.

"Okay, enjoy your drunken shower sandwich," he congratulated grimly, about to turn and leave.

"No, wait, where'd you get this?" you asked as you leaned out of the stream of hot water to unwrap your bounty.

"Uh, you know the deli on 8th and Columbus?"

"You went all the way out there?"

"No, I had it delivered."

You snorted with laughter.  "Couldn't leave me alone for even a minute, huh?"

"Well, I fully intended on leaving you alone for this shower."

But you didn't really notice that comment because you'd just taken a bite and couldn't stop yourself from moaning loudly around it.  "Oh my god, Bucky, this is so good!"

He cleared his throat.  "Uh, glad you like it."

"You have good taste in sandwiches!"

"I think the word for 'taste in sandwiches' is just 'taste,’” he pointed out, his smirk audible in his voice.

"Can we go to this place tomorrow and you can order for me?"

"We can do whatever you want tomorrow," he relented.

"If you drive, I'll pay,” you offered.

"I always drive.  And you always pay,” he pointed out.

You frowned, not visible to him through the steamy glass.  "I do?"

"You pay my salary, so, yeah…"

You laughed, a little too hard. "You're so smart!"

"Sure,” he replied quickly.

“Okay, I’m almost done in here,” you informed him.

“With the sandwich or the shower?” 

You laughed with a little snort, which would’ve embarrassed sober you.  “Both!”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it then,” he replied, starting to go back out the door.

“See you tomorrow, Bucky,” you waved even though he couldn’t see it.

“I don’t know that I will,” he admitted, “you’ll probably be hungover and lock yourself in your room all day.”

“Hmm, possibly,” you agreed as you pondered that.  “Then I guess just ‘goodnight,’ and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Goodnight,” he replied and stepped out of the bathroom— you could hear him go downstairs and shut the door to his room, and you glanced down at the last bite of your/his sandwich with a smile.

You must have gotten in bed at some point, cause that was the last thing you could really remember before you woke up a bit before noon, bright orange sunlight shining directly on your face where it rested on the pillow.  You groaned and turned over, feeling like your brain was too big for your skull.  You sat up when you saw a menagerie of unfamiliar items on your nightstand.  A bottle of pedialyte, a bottle of Fiji water, a few aspirin, an orange and a banana waited for you in a pile, with a little piece of paper sitting in front which you read.

Hope you’re feeling alright, these might help in the meantime.  -B

You smiled, twisting open the Fiji and taking a sip.  Bucky always took such good care of you, even in ways he didn’t need to.  What would you do without him?