#so glad i found your account all those months ago

[sweet-as-an-angel]

how about yan!dilf finding out that his darling has an onlyfans account?

Yandere DILF! Reaction to You Having an OnlyFans

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Manipulation, Blackmail, Infidelity, Pet Names, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Wordcount: 4364 words

♡ Good Lord, WHO gave this man internet access.

♡ Going to keep it real with you, babe, you’re finished if he finds your OnlyFans account. And so is he (in more ways than one) – but more on that later.

♡ Let’s say Domninic’s many, many hours of internet sleuthing (stalking) have led him to the pearly gates of your Only Fans account, the only thing separating him from whatever lies on the other side being a pay wall. One of the only kinds of walls that can’t stop Dominic.

♡ Of course, he buys a subscription. Of course, he does it under an alias, through an unlisted online banking app, on a burner laptop.

♡ And, upon seeing what you’re offering, he’s glad he took so many precautions.

♡ At first, the two emotions Dominic has felt most commonly throughout his lifetime flash in his ribcage, dance along the edge of his eyelids – make his eyes grow heavy.

♡ Lust and rage.

♡ Lust for the obvious. Rage for that which shouldn’t have angered Dominic.

♡ In a lot of ways, Dominic is a traditionalist; one’s significant other is for their partner and nobody else (even if Dominic doesn’t abide by this logic himself). Thus, to see you, the person he wishes he’d married, the person he knows is fated to be his, spreading their legs for any guy with enough money to buy a coffee, mortifies him.

♡ One, because you’re his. Two, because you sell yourself for such a low price.

♡ Dominic’s too wrapped up in his wrath to see to the vague throbbing between his legs. He’ll just make it Marilyn’s problem later when she returns from book club or whatever it is she does these days – and continue to make it her problem well into the morning when she struggles to emerge from bed, her legs buckling beneath the weight of his anger.

♡ For now, he paces around his office, checks the camera inside the bear he’d given to you months before.

♡ How had he not noticed sooner? He watched the footage from that bear enough times that he can recite everything you’ve ever said, can predict everything you’re going to do, has memorised all the unconscious quirks you adopt when you think no one’s watching.

♡ Dominic comes to the conclusion that you must be conducting your business in another location. One where you won’t be so easily found.

♡ Sure, he could go out, follow you to this location when you think you’re alone. He could even pay someone else to do it. But, amidst his rage, an idea sparks.

♡ No, he has a much better, much more cunning trick up his sleeve.

♡ The next day, Dominic comes to you with an offer he knows you can’t refuse.

♡ “Marilyn and I are going out tomorrow night and we’d like for you to babysit the boys for us.”

♡ You tried to refuse. You tried to make up a reason less nefarious than the one you held in your mind as to why you couldn’t do it. And Dominic only smiled, his eyes never crinkling, the sentiment never reaching them. He looked through you.

♡ He offered to raise your pay to an amount you both couldn’t accept and couldn’t pass up.

♡ This newfound amount was, considering how few subscribers you had on OnlyFans, irresistible. A godsend, in some respects. Especially when Dominic began taking his wife out more and more frequently, needing you to care for his children more often than not.

♡ To Marilyn, Dominic was finally, finally, trying to fix their marriage. To make good on the world he’d promised her those twenty-or-so years ago when he’d imprisoned her in a loveless marriage.

♡ To you, Dominic was being an understanding neighbour who was offering you a chance at a normal living wage out of the kindness of his heart.

♡ To Dominic, it was all a ploy to get you right where he wants you.

♡ The weeks passed. Dominic kept a close eye on your OnlyFans page.

♡ It would soon be time for you to upload your newest batch of material. If you ever found the time to do so, of course. What, with all the extra work Dominic had given you, he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d forgotten. Or simply hadn’t the time.

♡ It mattered little to Dominic now. He knew he had you on the ropes.

♡ The shift from one foot to the other as he offered you yet another night to babysit his boys, only for your eyes to lower. Uneasy.

♡ You’d tried the old “I’m sorry, Mr. Laurier–”

♡ “Please, (Y/N), we’ve been over this.” He smiles down at you. “Call me Dominic.”

♡ You try again.

♡ “Dominic – I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to tonight–”

♡ And Dominic used the tried and tested: “Oh…is it the pay? I can pay you more, if that’s the issue–”

♡ Issue. You’re making a problem out of this, not him.

♡ You backpedal. You sigh. You try to stand your ground.

♡ Unfortunately for you, the ground you’re standing on is merely a sheet Dominic is going to pull out from under you at any moment.

♡ You tried. Really, you did. Tried to reject Dominic’s kindness.

♡ And he looks down at you. He’s too beautiful for a grimace, he knows this. He puts on a mask he’s sculpted just for this moment – the false front.

♡ “I see,” he says, his voice low. His gaze shifts off to the side. He pretends to look for the right words to say. He already has them in his back pocket.

♡ “I understand. It’s just that…well…” He sighs. Places a hand on his hip. A change in posture. Something’s shifted about him. You’re paying attention, the oncoming of regret starting to form in the pit of your stomach.

♡ Dominic looks you dead in the eyes.

♡ “Don’t…tell anyone I told you this,” he looks behind him. Turns back to you. “But, Marilyn and I don’t really trust anyone else with our babies – we only keep asking you because…well, you’re brilliant with them.”

♡ He says it like it’s common sense. Flattery is every manipulator’s best friend.

♡ He senses reservation in you. He keeps going.

♡ “And…no, forget it, it’s fine. We’ll just cancel,” he smiles down at you. This time, the smile does reach his eyes. Makes it look like he’s hiding something else. Sorrow.

♡ You gasp inwardly, you take a step towards him.

♡ “Oh, I’m sorry! No, no, I can watch them tonight. I’ll just…do my work tomorrow,”

vYou try to smile. Dominic’s becomes genuine.

♡ “You sure? We–” Marilyn and I, halve the blame– “wouldn’t want to be keeping you from anything important.”

♡ You assure him they aren’t. That he isn’t. He’s won this round.

♡ He puts his hand on your shoulder. You’ve known each other long enough now that this is no longer a gesture that would inflict upon Dominic a problem he’d be lumbered with until he can, quite literally, take it into his own hands, and that you don’t flinch beneath his touch.

♡ There will be time enough for that. He knows this.

♡ And so, Dominic leaves you with an estimation of the time of his outing and his arrival. 

♡ “We’ll be back before you know it,” he says. He smiles at you from the front door, the handle in his grip. He leaves, his victory ringing in his head, making his heart thrum.

♡ And he didn’t even need to bust out the old ‘My marriage is failing’ shtick.

♡ True to his word, Dominic and his wife leave early into the evening, a rehash of their sons’ bedtimes and snack preferences no longer necessary. Second nature to you now.

-

♡ Your work – your OnlyFans content – played on your mind for the whole evening. Time seemed to slip away and stand still – paradoxy – as you pleaded inwardly for Dominic and Marilyn to return.

♡ The hours bled into one another, tearing away from what you could have been doing instead of guarding the house while Marilyn’s children slept upstairs, for truly they were more Marilyn’s offspring than they were Dominic’s.

♡ A half hour passed. Forty-five minutes. An hour.

♡ You came to face the possibility – the likely reality – that you would simply have to announce to the few followers you had that there would be no new content this month; that you would supply them with what they paid for twice over in a few weeks’ time. And pray that you actually had an audience patient enough to outlast your absence before that.

♡ Amidst your planning of damage control, an idea poked its head from the shadows. A failsafe. A sequel to your desperation.

♡ You could always just…take a few pictures here.

♡ The idea flashed in your mind like a life alternate to your own; past, with the certainty of already having been lived. All consequences already tangible. Foreseen.

♡ Perhaps that was why the anxiety associated with such expeditions into unfamiliarity had failed to catch up with you.

♡ Or, perhaps something masked it. Desperation, or one of its subsidiaries.

♡ Of course, you tried to stifle the idea. Tried to suffocate it with the smoke through which it walked. Though, its fiery grasp had mastered the art of survival.

♡ It wouldn’t go away. Much like Dominic’s lingering gaze whenever his wife was out of eye-shot and only you remained.

♡ Ten minutes crawled by and you almost wished for the rapidity with which the last hours had passed to find you, seek you out amidst this frozen landscape Time had entombed you in.

♡ And, as is the folly of man, you entertained that which should not be. You considered the likelihood – the schematics – of indulging such a proposition.

♡ Nobody was home and the boys were asleep, out of the way. Most rooms were large enough and devoid of personality so to mask your location – especially if the Lauriers had more of the sterile white sheets they laid their bed with.

♡ Then, a memory.

♡ A basement, tucked away between the folds of your psyche as its location within the house. You recalled the couple having one – a sizable one at that – when Dominic had invited you down there with him to retrieve more seating for his lawn party.

♡ You knew where it was. Knew where the keys were kept.

♡ And so, with a hammering heart and a withering step, you sought your fortune.

♡ The keys were easily enough discovered. As was the creaking door of the basement. And, upon your descension – biblical in your visage as the light from the hallway, dim as it were, cast a glow about your silhouette amidst the depths of the basement – you found precisely what you needed.

♡ A space – clean, untouched – equipped with white sheets covering a mass of boxes. Sure, they were creased; stained with Age’s attempts at youth, gripping onto the sheets and leaving his spectral marks – wrinkles – in their cotton-thin sheets, but they were there.

♡ You cast a keen ear to the ceiling, the living room floor, every few minutes as you looked for a place to start filming, a place to lay the sheets down, something to cover your face.

♡ You find a place, retrieve a Halloween mask from one of the boxes, and, without much deliberation, begin filming.

♡ What you do is nobody’s business but your own. Well, yours and the hungry men who survey your account for any crumbs you deign to feed them.

♡ What you don’t hear through the conduct of your business is the return of the home’s owner.

♡ Dominic hung up his coat, made little show of announcing his presence, and went straight for the basement.

♡ Don’t ask how he knew you’d be there.

♡ His steps grew more deliberate, louder, the closer he grew.

♡ You didn’t even know he was home until it was too late.

♡ At the height of your percussion, just when you were about to reach the moment of your video that would make the lead up worth it, something hit the floor behind you.

♡ You jumped. Whipped round to see what had happened.

♡ And there was Dominic. Hair black as the corners of the room, eyes void of any discernible emotion as he looked down at you, arms crossed over his chest, the top of his shirt undone by two buttons, not even out of his work clothes.

♡ You fumbled, the apologies, explanations and defences lodged in your throat as you choked to get them out, slamming your thighs together and reaching for the camera in your bid to shut it down. You tore the mask from your head, revealing blushed cheeks and a light sheen of sweat forming from the neck up.

♡ Dominic made sure to stay out of the camera’s line of sight, to remain only an anonymous spectator as he circled the room. He said nothing. Did nothing. Just watched and waited, walking.

♡ It was only after he knew the camera was off, your confidence in tatters around you, that he approached.

♡ You tried explaining, but he just shushed you.

♡ “No need to explain, my Dear,” he told you. He sighed, deeply, brought the corner of his lip between his teeth. He donned the veneer of disappointment.

♡ “I suppose I’m just…shocked,” he said. He leaned against a stack of boxes, solid against his back. He ran a hand through his hair and looked off somewhere. “I never knew you were…that kind of person,”

♡ The way he said that, like it had bleached his tongue just to speak it, made your heart sink lower.

♡ “I mean, what do we do now?” He made sure he gave you an incredulous glance, feigned disappointed abashment. “I pay you to look after my sons and I find you here, doing…” He looked to the camera, briefly, then away. As if he could still see what you had done on the tiny screen attached to it.

♡ You apologised profusely, tried to defend yourself: “Mr. Laurier, please – I didn’t– I never–”

♡ He didn’t interrupt you. He let you tie yourself in knots. Like a pretty present, all for him.

♡ Once you had exhausted your ability to explain yourself, Dominic let your fear hang for a moment, let it sink before you like a darkness bowing the ceiling above you. The singular lightbulb flickered.

♡ Dominic sighed. Pushed off the boxes. Came to you.

♡ “Honestly, (Y/N), if you were that desperate for money, you could’ve just asked.”

♡ He knew that wasn’t why you were doing this. But he also knew you’d accept whatever out he gave you. You listened.

♡ “Have I not been paying you enough? Have I misvalued your capabilities for this position?”

♡ The way his eyes flickered to your locked-together legs as he said position made your skin shiver.

♡ “Or…” he looked down on you. Relaxed his posture.

♡ “Is there perhaps some other reason you chose to…conduct yourself here?”

♡ When you didn’t answer, trying to decode his crypticism, he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side.

♡ “Could it be that you…wanted me to find you like this?”

♡ You tried to deny it, tried your utmost to say you’d never do such a thing to anyone, least of all your married neighbour and employer, but Dominic would hear none of it.

♡ “I’m flattered, really.” He says. He cast his eyes down, as if mulling over a secret. “My wife and I’s deteriorating marriage must be worse than I thought if it was so apparent to you of all people.”

♡ You knew such a comment, especially under these circumstances, shouldn’t have stung the way it did. Dominic only let you ruminate on it for a moment.

♡ “Maybe you wanted to show me something you knew Marilyn couldn’t.”

♡ Your jaw dropped. Dominic came to stand behind the camera. He toyed with it, general, not looking at anything in particular. You begged that he wouldn’t find a way to review the footage.

♡ Domonic stood back, looked down at you.

♡ “How about a compromise,” he offered. You watched him, eyes wide, heart pounding, stomach churning, breath short. He gave a pale smile.

♡ “You help me burn off some of the tension I’ve had building up over the last few weeks,” his eyes darkened. “And we’ll never speak a word of what happened here tonight.”

♡ Your words caught in your throat again.

♡ You knew Dominic was attractive, sure, but to help him cheat on his wife? And one so kind and loving as Marilyn–

♡ Your head span. Dominic had thrown you a lifeline.

♡ With a sigh, you evaluated your options.

♡ Your OnlyFans rarely made enough money to keep you financially independent, even for a short while; you had more to lose if you couldn’t keep your babysitting job. And you knew there was no chance Dominic would let you babysit again if he thought this was what you’d be doing during the dark hours of the evening.

♡ And what if he told Marilyn? What if she told their neighbours, your parents–

♡ In your vulnerability, your worry for your own preservation, you quietly agreed.

♡ And besides, you rationalised with yourself as the weight of the situation, of Dominic settling behind you, sank in. Better for Marilyn that he’s doing this with me rather than someone she doesn’t know, right?

♡ Given your bottom half was already bare, Dominic didn’t have to waste time undressing you himself. Though, under any other circumstances, he’d have jumped at the privilege.

♡ He’d often dreamed of this entire process being slower, gentler, and in the comfort of a bed in some lush space – usually a hotel. Not the sheet-covered ground of his cold basement.

♡ That evening, the mask Dominic wore was that of the common thief, for from you he stole your dignity. Your future.

♡ What you hadn’t realised was, as Dominic had been stood by the camera, he’d set it to record. Premeditated.

♡ You didn’t question why he pulled the mask from beside you onto his head. You just assumed, in your post-panic haze, that this was something he was into. Something he hid from Marilyn.

♡ Dominic still wore his work pants and had them pulled down to the bottom of his thighs. He’d also done away with his shirt from what you could feel of his skin; he radiated heat like you’d never felt before, even when you’d been in close proximity to him prior to this.

♡ You didn’t even have chance to think of much, to let the guilt and abashment of this whole situation weigh in on you as, with Dominic’s hands about your waist as if to steady you, he pushed in, filling you by an inch or two. 

♡ You were easy to penetrate given your recent activity, but that only served to quell the stretch by a slight margin. You gasped, jolted, and Dominic’s grip about your middle tightened. He pulled you back, inadvertently pushing more of himself into you. You bit your lip, trying not to enjoy the mortifying implications of this entire affair, the feeling of being filled by the man who held your future in his hands.

♡ He was, regardless of whether you’d done this before, nothing like you’d ever experienced. He alternated between being gentle and rough, eventually lodging himself inside you entirely and guiding you up and down his shaft at a rate that suggested patience. Just a minute later, he’d pick up the pace, pulling out and slamming back in, pushing you down so he could reach the deeper parts of you.

♡ And all the while, you could feel a tightness below your stomach. One which, to your panic, strengthened whenever you considered that you were helping a married man cheat on his wife, that your situation was buried beneath so many layers of complexity you feared you’d never see the light of clarity again.

♡ A married man. One who, if his soft touches and stifled moans were anything to go by, held rather a fondness for you in this moment.

♡ Dominic didn’t talk at all throughout the entire encounter, opting only to communicate with an occasional squeeze to your thighs, reaching around to your front to touch you in ways that had you whining and crying, and tugs to your hair whenever you tried to hide your face in your hands.

♡ The whole sordid affair hadn’t unfolded exactly how Dominic had wished – dreamed – it would.

♡ In his dreams, it had been gentler – consistently so. More private. Though, no less taboo.

♡ Now, he was harsher. Rough, though not enough to hurt you. Just enough to make sure you felt every inch of him; just what these subscribers of yours would pay to see.

♡ Dominic pressed close to you as the camera recorded, your face exposed for whoever came into possession of the video to see.

♡ Of course, so long as you remained an obedient little pet, Dominic would never have to release it to anyone.

♡ The transaction, one which left you breathless and sweltering, finished only when Dominic did. He made sure you were satiated, too, something to think about over the coming weeks as you curated more content for your subscribers, every moment no doubt a reminder of your encounter with him.

♡ Afterwards, he removed himself, though with much hesitance. He’d finally, finally attained that which he wanted most – you – and yet it hadn’t been under the circumstances he’d romanticised for so long.

♡ He tried not to think about it, storing it with the rest of the undesirable humanisms he had locked away elsewhere in his psyche. He focussed only on how explosive it had felt, how…alive he was in comparison to all the other times he’d been with someone, using them as nothing more than a mannequin to pump himself with rather than someone to give himself to.

♡ He let you lie on the floor, a blanket draped over you as he sorted himself out. He clicked the camera off, took out the memory card and kept it firmly attached to his palm – all while you weren’t looking, weren’t listening, senses still dazed with all Dominic had given you, done to you.

♡ As he removed the mask, there was a sheen to his skin and a passive glint in his smile that suggested something inhuman and false about him. Something you discovered too late, it would seem.

-

♡ After that evening, you had no choice but to continue on as if nothing had happened. For so long as Dominic was in possession of that night – that memory card – nothing had. You, of course, knew nothing of the card at first. Not until Dominic had let it slip that the camera had been rolling the entire time.

♡ And still, you didn’t question his use of the mask. The serendipitous timing of it all. You could hardly breathe for the ocean boiling in your stomach, your heart bleaching white and your brain paling as you realised you’d just filmed a sex tape that could ruin not just your life, but Dominic’s too.

♡ Oh, if only you knew just how little Dominic cared.

♡ Dominic told you not to worry, that he’d salvaged the memory card and put it somewhere safe only to now return it to you.

♡ He’d duplicated the video, of course. That, he kept somewhere even safer.

♡ Sure, he’d allowed you to upload it to your account when you asked him with wide eyes, your face blurred and his figure already unrecognisable to any of your simps. You still needed content, after all, so why not profit off your late-night tryst with your neighbour?

♡ Which was what led you to come to him now, eyes downcast as he stood before you, arms crossed, smile ready to split his face in half and reveal the parasites that made up his interior.

♡ The truth you gave him? Your account had garnered a great deal of traction since your…uploaded encounter. About three thousand new subscribers, to be exact.

♡ “Oh?” Dominic offered. “And why are you telling me this, mon Chèr? Do you plan on splitting your earnings with me?”

♡ He graced you with his charm, his humour. Tried keeping the situation light.

♡ A redness rolled across your face. Dominic smiled, slim and sly, and allowed you to foster his silence, his attention.

♡ You suggested filming something else. Something that could make the guilt you felt for your last encounter with him feel half worth it.

♡ Nothing ever would, of course. But you could at least try.

♡ And so began a lustrous alliance between yourself and Dominic, the man who had once been your neighbour, then your employer, now your owner.

♡ He used you as he pleased, donned the mask and bent you over under the guise of being the conduit for your growing fanbase. In reality, the scorching, pulsating, blistering reality you inhabited with him, you were his. His star who he made and will break when he sees fit.

♡ So long as he had that memory card, and the growing catalogue of blackmail you keep adding to in your bid to chase what you thought was the weight of your self-worth in cash, you were his.

♡ Infidelitous, yes. But that mattered little to Dominic. Nothing mattered more now that he had you in his hands, whimpering for him, coming undone for him, all while he maintained the safe anonymity of both his mask and the façade of a loving, caring family man.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

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[elitadream]

Hi guys~! ⛅👋

Long time no see! Much longer than I ever intended, in fact. Truth be told, I wanted to make a public post sooner, but I've had a lot to catch up on in terms of notifications and messages since logging back in a few days ago. I've also made some changes that I will address shortly, but first of all I wanted to thank those of you who have reached out with so much care and understanding during my absence. Adjusting has been a slow and fragile process for me -still is-, and I sadly haven't responded directly to everyone yet because of it, but I wanted to say how much I appreciate your patience and support nonetheless. 🥹 🙏

Long story short, I was gone for five months due to a huge burnout, then progressively found my spark again somewhere along the way and have since mostly recovered. It was my wonderful friend @drones-of-innocence who reached out to me outside of Tumblr, and her sense of initiative is largely the reason why I managed to make this post in a somewhat reasonable delay. 😅💖 With that said however, I must also mention that I've deleted a lot of stuff from my page and have removed most of my work from the public eye as well. This may seem quite drastic and frankly a little unsettling, but I assure you that it was a thoroughly considered and reasoned decision! The thing is that I was still getting lots of notes on these drawings everyday and… To put it simply, I didn't want that anymore. 🙇‍♀️ Experiencing popularity was very detrimental to me in the long run and I needed to put an end to it for the sake of my own wellbeing; at least for now.

Which brings me to my next point.

After mulling it over for a while, I've decided that I would not be returning as an active creator in the Mario community this time around. 👐 Making fanart for this franchise (with such a high and continuously maintained degree of involvement) had a lot to do with my health's decline and I've come to realize that I wanted to direct my focus elsewhere going forward. For that reason, there are things which I know will never be repeated again in the future, both in regards to my art and online presence in general, but that's alright. Things change, as they do and should. I'm looking forward to reuniting with folks and would be very happy to stay in touch with those of you who wish to message me privately. Like my lovely pal @istadris said, what matters most about any fandom are the friends you make in it. ☺️

And speaking of which-

@ody-and-fanatu That's so sweet of you, thank you! 💗 I'm glad you've enjoyed my contribution to the fandom. It was fun while it lasted! 💫 My visual ideas may be gone from my page, but most of my written posts and replies are still there for anyone who wants to revisit those at least, so there's that! And I'd also like to answer some of the asks I still have in my inbox at some point. Knowing that you hold my art in such high regard makes really happy! 🥰 Unfortunately, the other account that I have is reserved for my professional work and I prefer to keep them separate from one other, but the good thing is that I intend to go back to this blog occasionally. Hoping to see you around! Cheers! 🥂

@heiressofdoodles Thanks, I appreciate that! ✨ I'm honestly doing much better than I was earlier this Spring. Back then, I was running on empty and on the verge of crashing without even knowing it. Being in constant physical pain was one thing, but feeling mentally and emotionally drained on a daily basis was another entirely, and something had to be done. It took me a moment to really figure out what was wrong, but thankfully I realized very quickly what was causing it and applied the breaks with all my might. One of my main priorities now is to be more alert and respect my own boundaries to make sure that this never happens again. 🥲

@keakruiser Thank you. 🙏💐 I'm just glad to have found my footing again. Feels good to be able to create freely.^^ Hope you're doing well too!

Special thanks also to @pianokantzart, @jelly-fish-wishes, @katlyntheartist, @triniji and @wahooitsamee for their kind words. 🫂 Your graciousness and consideration means a lot to me. 💝

As for all the nice people who sent me anon comments and well wishes, I tried to summarize my thoughts as best I could in this update, but if there's anything else you'd like to say or know, don't hesitate to ask me anytime! Now that I feel like myself again, I think I'm gonna hang out on Tumblr for a little bit. I'll be excited to see what you guys have been up to in the meantime! 🤗 Wishing you all a very good day and pleasant Fall. 🍂

-elita 🌸

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

Hope Morphin Q&A

About a few months ago, I got a message from a surprising source: @hmrphin/Hope Morphin.

In case you don't know, Hope Morphin is a model and makeup artist who the character of Marc was based on. I also made a post about how their friendship with Astruc had ended thanks to the Rising Sun Flag controversy, which they had actually read one day. We talked a little, and they told me to message them on their Instagram to confirm that this is the real Hope.

They said they'd be down to answer some questions, I came up with a few, and I got their permission to post this on my account. So, without further ado, as Sid the Science Kid once said, let's go get some answers.

Question: When did you and Thomas first get to know each other, and how?

Answer: It was years ago, when the series premiered on TFOU. There were a lot of people complaining on twitter that the characters of the show were in 3D instead of in 2D, and I answered one of Thomas' tweets saying that characters' butts looked better in 3D rather than in 2D (yeah, I had a terrible sense of humor back then, glad I don't do that anymore) and he answered "yeah we could say that lol". Then, it became a running gag between us on the web, and we met for the first time at a french convention called Japan Tours, the 2015 one. So yeah, I think it was when I was... 20/21 years old, something like that.

Question: It's okay. We've all been cringe at some point in their lives. Did you two meet up again after the convention?

Answer: Yup. In fact, after the convention, he sent me a friend request on Facebook. Then, we chatted for a bit and he asked me if I wanted to be a model for him, and I met him for the second time during that model session.

Question: How did Thomas approach you about creating a character in his show based on you?

Answer: So, it was after I modeled for him. It happened after S1 has ended, so when we were chatting, he asked me which one was my favorite character. I answered Nathaniel, because at this time I felt quite close to this one (we love the angsty artist boy lmao). He told me that he didn't understand people liking Nath because he found it was a very empty character aha, but then he told me that they were searching for inspiration to create a boyfriend for him. He told me he wanted the persons to be happy that he got a boyfriend and that they would “stop bothering him with Nathaniel”, and as he wanted to take inspiration on someone looking androgynous he thought I was a good inspiration, so I accepted.

Question: Interesting story. Didn't know Nathaniel was so popular before Season 2. Did you have any input in the creation of Marc in terms of stuff like his design or personality?

Answer: Yeah he rather was, I remember a lot of people wanted to see more of him ehe. Not at all, I even though that he was joking on the moment, then one day he sent me Marc's characters sheet. I had the same haircut back in the day. Also, I was always wearing armor rings and I was wearing those kind of rings when I had this conversation with him, and he told me that Marc was going to have one of those as his miraculous. I was also still writing a lot back in the days, so I guess he still did took some stuff there and there in my personality to create him.

Question: You mean this design?

Answer: Yup! I was wearing only black sooo yeah the red and rainbow wasn't in my wardrobe aha.

Question: Do you know why they made the design rainbow themed?

Answer: Nah, he didn't told me :/ My guess is to make him more LGBT+ themed...

Question: Okay, sorry. Next question: What are your thoughts on Marc as a character? What do you think of his relationship with Nathaniel and his respective villain and hero forms, Reverser and Rooster Bold?

Answer: To be honest, when he first appeared, I really liked him. I thought he had a lot of potential as a character, his villain form was really cool and I really liked the ideas behind him, and I liked the relationship that he got with Nathaniel, from enemies to associates ehe. But after that... meh. There wasn't nothing much on the LGBT+ relationship with Nathaniel (we had to wait until the end of season 5 to see them hold hands... wow), and I didn't really find myself anymore in his character. I liked the design of his hero form and I liked the concept of his power, but like the other heroes that appeared during this episode, we didn't see Rooster Bold that much and I think that doesn't really make him feel appealing. I have the feeling that Marc and many other side characters could be way more develop in very cool subthemes but this is never really done in the series. Instead, now, they are just the characters getting out a whiteboard and giving terrible ideas to Marinette for her to date Adrien =="

Question: Just for fun, do you have any personal headcanons for Marc?

Answer: Well of course ehe, I have ton of those :D

Mmmh... For example, I think he is a dog person, that he's also fond of fashion such as Marinette but that he just don't have the patience to learn how to draw and how to design clothes... Also have the headcanon that him and Nath often meet at one of their places to do some little workshops together to work on their series and on tons of other projects :D

Got also tons of headcanon for future!Marc, such as him being a model for lgbt+ brands and Nath designing his clothes, I would love to see this shy patootie being at the front of the spotlight ehe, full of confidence and all :D There's tons of ideas to have with this character, I remember when I saw lots of artists drawing him with alternate clothes back in the day, such as shishitsunari or hazy (will try to find them back but it's been a while lol). I wish those clothing styles would be canon, with Marc rocking those kind of genderless clothes.

Links to fanart of Marc with different outfits: (https://www.deviantart.com/hazydayclouds/art/72918-756895643) and (https://ladyofacat.tumblr.com/post/176231424098/rises-from-the-underworld-marc-is-perfect-i-want)

Question: This one's a little tough, so if you don't want to answer, that's perfectly fine. What exactly went down before Thomas blocked you? Did you have any conversation online or in real life regarding the use of the Rising Sun Flag in "Ephemeral", or did Thomas just block you with no warning?

Answer: Honestly ? Blocked me without any warning. We were talking less and less, and, since I have affective dependancy, I had the feeling that I said / done something wrong. He was often answering only when I was defending him on social medias during these times. But we didn't have any harsh conversation from what I recall. So, I did the tweet about ephemeral, pointing out the use of the rising sun flag, and, well, maybe he had a plugin on twitter that blocked everyone using the term "flag", and maybe it blocked me automatically. The thing is : he has my number, he has my address (well, my old address now, lol). He had many ways to tell me this was a misunderstanding and that he didn't want to block me. He didn't call me, didn't send me any text after that to talk about it, so he clearly didn't want to make anything to sort out the problem. To this day, he still hasn't send me any message to talk about it. He commented on some of my facebook posts I did last year (I posted some makeups I did for my school) just saying it was cool, so... Yeah, not the type of friend I want to keep. I still have him as a friend on FB if I ever get the guts to try to send him a message to tell him everything that was wrong towards me and towards other people, but I clearly have other things to deal with lately.

Question: So he blocked you and didn't say anything else?

Answer: Yup, exactly, blocked me and didn't say anything else :/ After years of supporting him lmao.

Question: I'm really sorry to hear that. And you still haven't heard from him after all this time?

Answer: Well, apart from some comments he made on my facebook posts (I posted my makeup from my makeup school and he commented "very nice!") nothing at all. But honestly I'm not too bothered by that. I heard new stuff that he did prior and I really don't think it's a good idea that I interact with him again. I keep him in my facebook friends because maybe one day I'll send him a message to try to confront him, telling him that he had a very terrible behavior towards me and other people... But not today, I have other stuff to deal with.

Question: Despite everything that's happened between you and Thomas, do you still keep up with Miraculous Ladybug? If so, what do you think of it?

Answer:

Well, I've kept up with it because I still have lots of friends who are watching it (for example Octolady, Kogenta and Candy...), and they help me keep a little hype.

So I watched the episodes... There are some stuff that I like. There's good LGBT+ representation, and I like seeing an international known cartoon doing that (especially a french one since we have lots of far-right rising lately).

But honestly, I don't have the same hype as before. At the beginning, I was hyped because S1 looked awesome and had lots of cool fights, lots of wholesome characters and all, but the animation problems and differences are really making me bothered. Also, I have the feeling there's a lot of characters who could be more elaborated and who aren't, and... That's kinda sad, because there's a lot of topics that could be explored thanks to them and not just brushed off in one episode.

Plus, to be honest, I didn't really like the ending of S5. And I don't like the idea of it going on for seasons and seasons and seasons, milked until there's nothing more for it. The fewer the better in my mind...

I also seen the movie and didn't really liked it. Too much fanservice and didn't really made sense. The animation was nice, though.

Honestly, I love the writing team, they are wholesome people and they are doing their best for this show, but people like Thomas and Zag are the kind of people I don't want to support anymore. So yeah... To sum it up : still watching it from afar to see if nice stuff is happening, been pleased with some little stuff, displeased with a lot more, but I don't think I'll keep watching it both because I'm not that hyped up anymore and because I don't want to support anymore these 2 people. I supported Thomas too much before, was too attached to him and was a terrible person towards fans who didn't deserved it because I was too blind, so yeah, won't happen anymore.

Still, I'm glad there's still some people who are fans of Marc and who felt helped thanks to this character. I really hope he will have a better representation in the future (clear relationship with Nath, maybe even some trans / non-binary representation ?) in order to inspire young people.

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

I'd like to personally thank Hope for being willing to answer my questions, and I highly reccommend giving their Instagram a follow.

[redheadspark]

Found Again

Summary - You tell Feyre about your love for Azriel

Warnings - A hint of angst and mostly fluff

A/N - This one-shot talks about Asexuality. Please let me know if this offends anyone or is stepping over the line!

“How did you and Azriel meet?”

“Through Rhysand, of all people,”

“Really?”

“I know.  As shocking as that is, Rhysand and I go way back as childhood friends,”

Feyre giggled as you two were sitting side by side outside in the garden of the townhouse, getting some needed sunshine in before an upcoming rainstorm would come through Velaris starting tonight and all day tomorrow. The chilling wind was evident already, most of the Velaris already seeking shelter and closing down its shops and businesses in time before the massive rain will come.  Thankfully, you had nowhere else to be for the rest of the night and all day tomorrow since your work was mostly at your home in the Townhouse.  You were Rhysand’s personal accountant and head of treasury, great with numbers and finances and he would never dare to try and juggle that himself.  Since you two were childhood friends, he made sure you were all taken care of after your parents were both killed by Amarantha, mourning their deaths as fiercely since he thought of them as his own family.  

But now, months later and a recent victory over King Hybren and his near fatal attack on all of Pythian, you could have some peace again in your lives as Velaris was once again safe and calm.  

“He introduced us as children, taking him in when he needed protection from his own family,” You explained, leaning back a bit in your chair as Feyre was listening on, “We were simply friends then, I never saw anything past that with him.  Even when we got older and went our own separate ways, we were simply friends.”

Feyre smiled, thinking about the Shadowsinger himself having a child friend.  She took a sip from her wine as she spoke, “But you and Rhsyand were close?”

“For some time, yes.  After I went off on my own for a bit, Rhysand convinced me to work for him and be part of his Inner Circle.  At that point, Azriel and I never crossed paths for decades.  So when I saw him again, now as a full grown Illyrian  and Spymaster….it felt like a dream,” You explained, pausing for a moment when you remembered seeing him all over again at the House of Wind.  It was a stormy night at Velaris, you barely moved into your small apartment when Rhysand got in contact with you to have you meet with his Inner Circle.

“Rhys…I don’t belong here, you know—“

“You absolutely do belong in the Inner Circle since you’re one of the very few fae I trust with my life.  Plus, I want you to see an old face.  Remember Azriel?”

“….Azriel?”

“Were you in love with him then?” Feyre asked you in a breath, clearly invested in the story you were telling.  You had to slightly blush as you shook your head, hearing Feyre giggle.

“Not then, but he was always on my mind for the longest time.,” You explained, “After Rhysand made me part of the Inner Circle, Azriel and I reconnected and became friends again.   I think we were both trying to make up for lost time, me going away to travel and Azriel becoming Rhysand’s Spymaster, and I was imply glad to have my friend back in my life again.”

All of the chats that you and Azriel had together after you reconnected together, you were beyond thankful that he was alive and doing great.  Yet you were shocked to hear him being a Spymaster of Rhysand and for Night Court, such a responsibility and errand would seem maddening.  Azriel seemed calmed about it after he saw the shock on your face, almost amused himself as he grinned.

“Never thought of me as a Spymaster before?”

“No, but you have always surprised me,”

“I told him all about my life since we separated all those years ago, the good and the bad.  But even after telling him everything, I was still holding something back for him.  Something I never told anyone else,” You paused, looking down at your lap and seeing how your fingers were slightly clutching each other.  Of course, you have grown since then and you have felt enough confidence in yourself to know your inner desires and needs.  But back then, having your childhood friend right in front of you that you knew so well and admired, you were petrified.  

“Rhsyand has been the only person to know,” You explained some more, seeing that you had Feyre’s undivided attention, you pressing your palms together, “Not even my own parents knew before they died.  And I wish I told them, and I regret it to this day that I was never brace enough to say, but I had to tell Azriel,”

Telling Azriel about your sexuality was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, not to mention one of the scariest.  You had to remind yourself that this was the same Azriel that you grew up with, that knew your favorite foods and snacks, that knew that you loved going on hikes and adventures to clear your mind, how could he see you in any other way?  How could he have a new view of you because of something that was so natural to you?  

But you have felt the twinge of rejection before from others, mostly from potential suitors and male fae who were into you.  Most of them simply decline their advances, moving on from you and not seeing a future.  Others were a bit more cruel, their remarks and also their actions cut you deep as they walked away and never turned back.  But with each one of those moments, you were finding yourself a bit stronger.  

However, though you had strength, you felt instantly weak when you told Azriel your sexuality.

“Did you think he would see you in a different way?” Feyre asked you cautiously, seeing that you were a bit lost in your thought.

“I can’t give you what you want, Azriel!”

“And what makes you think I would want sex from you in this relationship? I feel mildly offended that you would think that,” He replied with a small hint of sarcasm.

“Don’t make this funny, Az,” you grumbled, glaring at him as the winter storm was roaring on.  Of course you decided to have this talk with him right after Winter Solstice, thinking it would be the right time since you both recently decided to get together as a couple.  It was still fresh for you two, deciding to be together after holding off your feelings for quite some time.  But you also know that you had to talk to him about how you felt like intimacy.  It would be the first real step in your relationship together:

Telling Azriel about your Asexuality.  

“I’m not.  I’m being truthful when I tell you I know what I want, and what I want is you.  Anything you’re willing to give me, I’ll take it.  Anything you wish to hold back from, I’ll accept. “ he explained wholeheartedly, having you look at him with shock and disbelief.  

“But…why?” You asked, his voice seeming low and almost unconvincing.  His face fell, seeing how this was affecting you and how you were having such an internal battle with his conversation.  It was written all over your face and in your stance, at any moment you would crumple to the ground or float away with the wind.  

He walked over to stand in front of you, taking both of your hands in his own and searching your eyes with the same kind of love he would always have for you.  You were still filled with questions and concerns, knowing that you were never going to budge when it came to how you felt and how you were willing to love.  The infamous fear that you would once again be rejected, that Azriel would walk away from you and not even give you a second glance, it was festering in your mind and only getting bigger by the minute. 

“I want you, just you and nothing more than that.  I’ve never felt this kind of love I have for you with anyone else, no matter who it was,” Azriel explained calmly and with reassurance as you squeezed his hands in your own, “Those whispers about me and my…escapades…they mean nothing to me.  You mean more to me,”

“Those whispers makes me feel as though I can’t….that I won’t be able to…” You huffed, closing your eyes and feeling another wave of defeat.

“Those whispers mean nothing to me, and they never will.  You are not obligated to do anything that you don’t wish to do,” Azriel vowed to you, pressing his head against yours as you still kept your eyes closed, “I did not fall in love with you because I wanted to be in bed with you,”

You grimaced and was about to pull away from him, flushed in your cheeks and your skin already tingling in uneasiness.  Yet Azriel wrapped and arm around you to keep you close to him, his other hand reached up to caress your cheek.  His touch was beyond gentle and soothing, having you open your eyes as if you were a flower being coaxed to open your petals.  There he was, staring at you with love and concern in his hazel orbs and along his lips and cheeks that you leaned against his hand absentmindedly.  

“I fell in love with you because of how much you love me, all of me,” he explained, rubbing your back with his hand that was sprawled along your lower back, “All of my demons I still have and will always have, all of the pain that I went through, you never strayed from it or ran the other way.  You see me as…..me.  No one else has done that for me, and I don’t wish to find that with anyone else for as long as I live,”

“Oh Azriel,” Feyre said in a heart warming sigh as you grinned and nodded your own head, feeling a tear or two come through as you wiped them away in a hurry.  Reliving that small spat was never easy, but you never wanted to deny it either.  You and Azriel have grown since then, fights coming and going but never staying or growing into something serious.  He was willing to put in the work when it came to keeping your love for one another flourishing, as were you.  

“I know, I’m lucky to have him,” You hummed in agreement as Feyre smiled.

“You’ve been together ever since?” She questioned you, to which you were about to answer when the door behind you opened.  Both of you looked to the source, seeing the very topic of conversation come out to the garden, sporting his leathers and his heavy boots.  The smile on his face, his Truth Teller strapped to his side, and his shadows licking along his back and near his tucked in wings.

“Cassian told me you two snuck away to talk in here,” Azriel said in a grin as he walked over to stand behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders, squeezing the shoulders gently while Feyre gave him a sweet smile, “What were we talking about?”

“Nothing of major importance,” You replied, though Feyre shook her head.

“It was the upmost importance!  I asked about how you two met and fell in love,” She explained, you bushing madly as Azriel chuckled behind you from his spot.

“Ah, I’m sure she gave every detail,” Azriel joked lovingly, you felt him squeeze your shoulders a pinch tighter as he spoke again, “Actually, your mate is looking for you.  Apparently he is in need of your assistance,”

Feyre huffed and rolled her eyes, getting up from her chair and smirking, “I can’t leave that brute for more than 10 seconds!  Where is he?”

“In his old study,” Azriel replied, both you and Feyre giggling as she finally made her way out of the garden, gliding with ease at the door close right behind her.  You leaned back a bit in your chair, Azriel’s fingers moved some of your hair from your shoulders to squeeze your shoulders once more.

“Should I be worried on what you two were talking about?” He asked, you sighing and tapping his hand.

“Never,” You replied, Azriel walked over to stand in front of you and then kneel to be at your eye level.  He was wearing his leathers, plenty of history with some wear and tear and a little bit of residue from past battles and wars.  Yet it suited him with his dark ink hair and bright hazel eyes.

“Our 50th anniversary is coming up,” He reminded you as he took your hands in his own, playing with your fingers as you smiled at him, “I was thinking that we should go away for a week or two,”

“We can do that?” You asked him as his smile grew, “What about Rhysand and the Inner Circle?”

“I already talked to him about us going away for a week or two,” He reassured you as you sat up a bit in your chair, “I have some connections in Summer Court with Lord Tarquin, he’s willing to let us stay in his guest home along the cliffs of the sea.  I know you like Summer Court, and it sound perfect for us,”

After 50 years of marriage, you and Azriel still loved each other as if it was your first year together as husband and wife.  Your own union was not massive or a big celebration, Azriel only wanted the Inner Circle present and a Priestess marrying the two of your together.  Even with no mating bond, you two considered each other mates.  With the normalcy of a couple being intimate, you and Azriel made your own rules on intimacy and loving on one another.

Azriel never pushed your boundaries or made you feel less because of your lack of sexual attraction, to which you were grateful for him still loving you in others ways.  Holding your hand when you two were side by side, his chivalrous nature in holding open the doors for you and having a chair ready for you to sit on, even preparing your favorites foods and drinks on those stressful days 

Even the kisses he would give you were filled with love and gentleness.  For someone who was viscous in nature and knew how to inflict torture, he was the opposite with you.  The softness of his kisses along your lips, the soothing sensation of his hands along your skin, it was all so carefully thought out and not left to chance.  That was Azriel: he knew just how to act and how to kiss you to make your heart sing and not feel intimidated.  

All of those insecurities of not being intimate with Azriel melted away from the moment he told you he loved you, all of you, and you held onto that love all this time.

“I would love that, Az,” You stated, seeing him lean up to give you a singular kiss on the lips.  Humming, you framed his face and kissed him back just as sweetly. Azriel redefined the definition of love for you, showing you in his actions and gesture that there was more to love than just sex and sexual attraction.  You found attraction in his kindness, his bravery, his chivalry, and in his friendship with you.  For so long you thought you would never have something like this with another person because of your lack of sexual attraction, the world mostly revolved around it and made you feel left behind.  

But you were found again, all thanks to Azriel. 

"I love you," You murmured against his lips as he grinned and pecked your lips a few more times, keeping you close in his arms.

"I love you all the more," He replied, and deep down, you knew he did.

The End.

Tagged - @valeridarkness

[gynnnicsworld]

Hellooo! i was wondering what your all-time favorite hurt/comfort fics are? also I love your account, I scrolled through not too long ago and immediately was like yes, I've found my people

*screams internally* oOH GOD, thank you for asking that, I've been waiting for someone to ask that and I'm so glad this is happening! OK.

From what I can see in your profile picture, do u like spn too? Do u have any favorite couples there? cause I have a long list of fics in that fandom too *wink wink*....

Please ask me questions to recommend fics, because I have been trying for weeks to organize a part 2 of rec list but I haven't been able to, I have too many fics and I have no idea how to start organizing them. So by asking questions like these you help me recommend some fics and get organized. thks u <3ily

Life's (Kate's) a bitch and then you (she) dies

by: Littleredridinghunter

While everyone is busy saving Jackson, Stiles is taking a beating in the Argent's basement. When his dad gets hurt, he leaves a note for Scott that he is getting away from everything and to never contact him again.

Too bad Scott and the pack take him at his word....

One year later and they finally see Stiles again but it isn't a happy reunion. Can they repair all the damage that has been caused in their time apart?

(This is one of the most recent fics I've read and it left me completely destroyed and in love at the same time, the author of this fic is the same author of most of my favorite fics. Anyway, all the fics I've read by this author will appear here. (oh by the way you would like to know that spn characters appear here.))

Home

by: TheTypewriterGirl

God, this fic is BEAUTIFUL, it's glorious, this fic can basically be described with any adjective that refers to beauty and perfection. But there is pain, a lot of pain, this fic must be praised.

There are illustrations that complete the beauty of this fic. Like this↓

Yes, you guys definitely have to read this fanfic.

You haven't read it??? WHAT ARE YOU EXPECTING?? RUN TO READ IT.

I downloaded the fic because I don't want to lose it, I would cry if one day this fic is deleted.

It's all part of the master plan - Sterek version

by: Littleredridinghunter

every fic that I put here you must read it, truly and seriously, you HAVE to read it, you can't not do it.

Sense of Home

by: siny

Home can be a place, but it can also be a person.

After the events with the Nemeton, Stiles starts suffering the consequences of their sacrifice. A journey he attempts to make on his own, but only becomes worse with every step he takes. In the process he seeks comfort in an unexpected place and it draws him toward an unexpected person.

(This fic explains one of the theories quite well, maybe you know this theory x if that theory caught your attention, you will love this fic).

hold me tight (you'll be alright)

by: orphan_account

Stiles is captured by the alpha pack for over a month before escaping. Derek finds him in the woods and takes him home.

Homeland

kitkatpancakestack

"And if you bleed for Beacon Hills once, you can be sure you'll bleed for it again."

(Tthis is a fix fic, but it's really good. I actually have many VERY good ones of this type.

God, I actually have a colossal mountain of fics to recommend and I have no idea how to start organizing them.)

It's where my demons hide

by: Littleredridinghunter

Stiles was used to his life going to hell. He'd just never expected it to be quite so literal.

When Rafael McCall returns to Beacon Hills after a five year absence it brings back lots of unhappy memories for Stiles, he'll do whatever he can to keep his secrets buried in order to protect those closest to him.

With Rafael's return Stiles discovers that secrets are always revealed, even if this particular time it's because of supernatural interference.

(By the way, I don't have an order, because all the fics that I'm putting here are really good and all of them are my favorites. BUT this fic right here is probably my favorite among favorites, this fic has a way of destroying your soul and putting it back together that you will love and hate at the same time and leave you wanting to read more.)

A Melody That Climbs And Then Falls

BY: siny

They won the fight against the alpha pack; the nightmare was apparently over.

That was until Stiles fell on the ground with blood coming out of his mouth when Derek reached him.

--

Or the fic where Stiles gets an internal bleeding for saving Derek, only a tragedy like this would make Derek realize his true feelings.

Peter betrayed them all and is currently missing. Allison and Stiles are buddies, as much as Derek and Erica.

Can't rely on me

By; Littleredridinghunter

Set at the end of season 2, Gerard beats Stiles up, but it's a lot worse than anyone knows.

The pack let him down, that's not really a surprise lately.

When Danny finds Stiles nearly bleeding to death the next day it's the start of a beautiful friendship.

Can the pack make amends before it's too late? Will Stiles ever forgive them for not being there for him when he needed them the most?

Echoes

by: jjmash

Stiles' magic accidentally creates a lifelike echo of Derek's baby sister who died in the Hale fire. Between games of tag and trips to the zoo, Derek helps Stiles pick up the pieces of himself post-Nogitsune possession.

(This one is short but sweet and sad.)

Finding His Home

by: OKDeanna

Derek Hale was a lot of things, and none of them very good. Yet, the one thing he couldn't shake was the one thing he knew he shouldn't want. But when an unexpected late night call reveals Stiles Stilinski has been injured, he will stop at nothing to get to him. Even if it means opening himself up in ways he never has before...

(I love that in the sterek fandom we have these unspoken truths, like the fact that we all know that no matter what, Derek is always going to believe and care about Stiles whether he's in Mexico or on the other side of the world, if Stiles calls, he'll go to Stiles.)

Wait For Me

by: Hedwig221b

“Stiles, we know about your Spark,” Scott looked at Stiles with desperate eyes, trying to convey something. “He is the Werewolf who's been chasing you. You must run. We’ll help you…”

Stiles stared at his friend, genuinely concerned for his sanity, because the nonsense he was sputtering was really fucking confusing.

This one is really good but fucking confusing or something, it really made me hate certain characters here and scream in frustration but I always trusted stiles/derek.

The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home

turningterrific

Derek doesn’t want to call the window repair guy. He doesn’t want to sweep up the glass. He’ll inevitably miss a few shards and pull them out of the bottom of his bare feet for weeks.

He doesn’t want to try to make this place feel like home when it isn’t.

Derek stayed in Beacon Hills and tried to make it work because he wanted pack, wanted purpose. He gave his best effort and found himself back where he started: alone, with a few begrudging allies. He’s tired, and even though his werewolf body heals quickly, he feels the weary ache down to his center.

He packs his car with the few things he cares about enough to drag them from place to place. He locks the loft and calls a realtor about listing the building he’d bought in a misguided attempt to secure a future.

And then he leaves.

(This fic will always be in my favorite fic recommendations, because I read it at a difficult time for me and it helped me a lot emotionally to move forward, so yes, this fic is one of my favorites among favorites, and I will always mention it at every opportunity. Plus we have Derek healing and that's beautiful because Derek deserves nice things just like Stiles.)

____________________________________

okay, I'm going to stop here because I have some things to do, but actually I have more favorite hurt/comfort fics. But I won't be able to put them all here right now, apologies for that, but please send me another question for a second part, but I think at the moment you have several fics to read.

I hope you like them, and please do not hesitate to send me messages to talk about all these incredible fanfics, I will be waiting for your comments. (and thanks again for the question)

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 & 𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕤 - 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr/f!reader the dhampir/spawn!Astarion

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, dead dove do not eat, incest (father/daughter), POV second person, grooming, smut, loss of virginity (in a memory), light bondage, praise kink, fingering, vaginal fingering, spanking, semi-public sex, PiV, vampiric bites, asphyxiation, biting, creampies, threatening, Astarion is very pissed in chapter 1, canon-typical violence, hair pulling, throat fucking, cock worship, cum swallowing

➺ 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: You think you have everything you want, a loving father, one of his spawn to entertain you and protection of a vampire coven, but a master and his spawn have you caught in a middle, their jealousy, desire for control and possessiveness influencing their actions. Yet you don't want to be a doll pulled by strings, you want to be the Lady of the House, Lady Szarr, respected just like your father, Cazador, is. But that might not be what Cazador himself has planned for you, and maybe not what Astarion has in mind either. Can you stand against them - only time will tell.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,506

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: some months ago, on my old tumblr account, people wanted more to shades & shadows, and with encouragement (and people enabling me lol) i have promised to write it. well, here it is at long last! i am quite proud of this one and it took me a while to figure out in what direction i wanted to take these three chapters, but i'm glad to finally share this as it is all done and dusted, in the manner of speaking. the dove is so dead it's just bones, guys, so buckle up and, as always, enjoy♡~

➺ 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: [link] | [on AO3] |

You stand by the sarcophagus of Donnela the Architect. You know she’s your great great aunt or something along those lines, but you feel nothing when you gaze upon the flat surface of the tomb. It doesn’t even bear her image, it’s just a smooth slab of stone that is meant to represent the vampire that once was. You never asked your father if her body is there, or well, anything that can remain after a vampire is destroyed.

Yes, you remind yourself, you’re all monsters, yourself included. You don’t get to be murdered, you are destroyed. And you stand here, wondering what happened to this woman that was taken out of this life many years before you were even born and you are left with solemn questions. Your father does not speak about Donnela, he doesn’t speak about Vellioth either. Whoever came before Cazador Szarr are being erased from the history of your family. You only know their names because you found a list of previous Vampire Masters stashed away in some crook within the palace walls. You don’t even know who wrote the list or if it’s reliable at all, but you remember the skull in the room where your father took your virginity, in the dungeons beneath the mansion, you remember the scroll, clamped within the fanged jaw of someone who was alive once.

Who was it – you do not know, but they seemed of great importance to Cazador, considering he placed the skull in such honored spot, on a cushion, as if to prevent it from crumbling apart. But rest of the memories are blurred by flashes of pain and then pleasure. Your father’s whispered words of praise, his sweaty body moving on top of you. You were smaller back then, shorter, slimmer. You felt so tiny under Cazador’s towering form as he took you three times that night, leaving you sore, but a woman at last. His daughter, his bride.

You press your lips into a thin line at these memories, your arousal stirs in the center of your body and you try not to remember that night, try not to indulge yourself in the memory of your father loving you so tenderly, so protectively. He touched you in a way one touches a wounded bird – with so much care, you have never forgotten it. You exhale with a blush, unable to stop your mind from washing over you with beautiful memories and the sarcophagus in front of you fades from your focus as you relive the touches and grazes of his fingertips, when you heard Cazador’s whispers against your ear promising eternity together, just you and him. How he filled your virgin body with his length and how he inhaled when he smelled blood the moment he took what was rightfully his. Your sigh is strained and you snap out of your thoughts when you begin feeling wetness between your thighs, soaking your underwear.

“Ah.” You exclaim and resist the urge to lift your skirts and inspect it with your fingers, you know already that you got aroused. Right in front of this tomb.

“What are you doing here, daughter?” Cazador’s voice makes you flinch because you didn’t even hear him approach and with a loud swish of your dress you turn to face a man who you love so deeply it makes your very soul ache.

“Father.” You bow your head to him and the Vampire Lord walks closer. He stops in front of you for a moment, then walks past and places a hand on the sarcophagus.

When you look at him you see him gazing down on it with an expression you can’t quite read but that looks close to reminiscence. The Szarr family ring on his finger seems to glint in the moonlight that’s coming through the trees but you’re not sure if it isn’t your mind just tricking you, adding to the beautiful live portrait of your father that you’re observing. He doesn’t come here often, to the family graves sequestered in the far corner of the garden and hidden under the trees. Just as he doesn’t speak about the Vampire Masters before him, so does Cazador avoid this part of his domain.

“You haven’t answered me.” Your father says and his eyes flick to you, making you freeze in spot for a moment, scared that he might get angry at you for being here. Your mind reels, trying to find an answer that would satisfy him.

“I come here to think, to escape the busyness of the palace if it gets too much.” You try to sound calm and not to start stammering, but your throat clenches at Cazador’s bloodstained icy glare that seems to look into your very soul.

“Is that so?” He asks silently and offers you his hand while still resting the other on the lid of the sarcophagus. “Come, my daughter.”

You take his hand without hesitation because if you hesitated – he would notice and he would punish you for it. You were always meant to do everything he tells you to, no matter what is it. But for now Cazador does not seem to be in one of his foul moods, so you let him pull you closer without fear. He holds your hand and taps the sarcophagus lid with the other, drawing your eyes to the action.

“Do you know who’s supposed to be here?” Vampire Lord asks and you pause, again trying to think of an appropriate answer, yet the cooling wetness between your legs is distracting you. Your desire may have passed but remnants of it still linger, making you want to rush this conversation and change your underwear.

“Is it Donnela?” You ask and you know there’s no point lying because he will catch you in your deceit. And you don’t want to experience what happens if he catches you lying, it happened once before and you ended up being suspended in ropes for a week while-

“You are correct.” Cazador’s voice interrupts the horrific memory and you raise your eyes to him looking up, and feeling so small in front of him once more. Previous memories, of your first night together, return, and you feel passion stir in you once again. This face that you love, this face that looks so beautiful when he’s panting while on top of you with his cock stroking your inner walls, you try to focus but it’s hard. Your dearest father, all yours.

“Why she doesn’t have her name carved?” You ask, doing your best to focus on anything else but your cunt that is becoming wetter once again.

“She doesn’t deserve it.” Cazador’s fingers absentmindedly lace with yours and he holds your hand firmly, but without pain. He looks down at the sarcophagus and frowns. “Some should never be remembered once they perish, my child.” With fingertips of his other hand he traces the stone, feeling notches and tiny crevices on the surface. It looks like your father has something on his mind.

His features look calm, almost tinged with a hint of nostalgia and you have a fleeting thought that this is a perfect chance to ask about Donnella, to ask about Vellioth, to perhaps at last learn a bit more about those who came before you, but before you can make up your mind if you should dare to speak the questions, Cazador’s gaze turns to you and his fingers leave the tomb lid, raising to your face. When you look down you see the Szarr crest ring clearly before your eyes as if he’s showing it to you.

“You will have one of your own soon enough.” Vampire Lord says while watching your expression with a small but proud smile on his face. “And when you do, my dear daughter, you will stand by my side instead of being hidden away like a precious jewel that you are.” He squeezes your fingers with his, subtly reminding you that everything he does is for you and you take his other hand with yours, holding it as if you’re a squire to a king, then lean your head kissing the ring, feeling cold metal and the edge of the gem under your lips. “You’re perfect.” Cazador whispers as he pulls his hand from your fingers and your lips, then cups the side of your face, the coldness of his touch makes you feel safe.

You raise your eyes to his and find him looking at you with smirk. The sharp edge always remains in his eyes, that cruel threat of horrors to come if you upset him, but right now he looks almost gentle as he gazes down on you. Horrible and beautiful. Breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen with adoration.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, dear?” Cazador asks in a quiet voice and his fingers work to caress your warm skin. You lean into it and smile softly, he can see the love you carry for him in your eyes. Despite allowing one of his wretched spawn to entertain you, Cazador knows that you belong to him and always will. Still, he likes seeing it in your eyes, in your face, to hear it in your words, to feel it in your body when he’s fucking you. Everything about you belongs to him.

“Of course, dad.” You smile and Cazador’s fingers slip from your cheek to your chin, gripping it and tilting your head higher, then he bends over you, pressing his lips against yours.

“You’re mine and will be mine, forever.” He whispers against your lips and you barely manage to stop a mewl escaping your mouth. The stirrings of your lust increase and you squeeze his fingers tighter. He knows what he’s doing to you and you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose. He trained you so well to be truly his and you never fail him.

Cazador’s lips press against yours once more and his fingers leave your chin before his palm rests against the small of your back and draws your body against his. With free hand you reach up and press your warm palm against his neck as you kiss him back. When his tongue nudges against your lips you part them, letting him in, and moan into the kiss, letting it wash away all the worries or questions you might’ve happened just moments ago. Your father’s tongue grazes over your fangs, a constant reminder of his legacy, and you feel him grip your fingers tighter.

You open your eyes when you feel father pulling away from the kiss and your eyes meet his. You’re gently panting, filled with need, your panties soak it all up and it’s as if he knows. He always does know.

“Even here you’re so ready for me, aren’t you? I can smell your arousal, my dear.” Cazador comments, making you blush despite wanting nothing more than to be filled by his cock until you can’t speak anymore. There’s no other man that fucks you the way he does, he knows all the tricks and games of your body, everything that there is to know about you, and he uses that knowledge against you in most beautiful, merciless ways.

“We could return to our chambers.” You suggest carefully and he lifts an eyebrow at you, feigning surprise.

“Turn around.” Cazador’s voice is a command and you pause, processing it, then let go of both his neck and his hand before you turn around. Your sopping cunt makes movement uncomfortable but you don’t betray it, just clench your fists into your skirts with anticipation. Next moment you feel your father’s hands on your waist, then on your stomach, sliding down your hips. “Lift them up, dear.” He whispers against your ear and a shiver runs down your spine. You begin lifting the skirts of your dress until they are all bunched up against your stomach and chest.

Cazador’s hands leave your hips and you watch him caress your thighs before he grips at them and moves you to face the sarcophagus. Your face flushes and you swallow hard, wondering what he has in mind yet when his fingers grip at your panties and begin moving them down your legs you know exactly what he has in mind – to take you here, on top of this tomb. Whether his reason is to defile the resting place of Donnela or just because he simply wants to fuck you – you don’t know neither do you care. You just bite on your lower lip and step out of your underwear when Cazador moves the garment down to your ankles. For a moment you stand still but then gasp when you feel his face press between your thighs from the back and inhale deeply through the fabric of your dress making you squirm slightly, blushing even harder.

“You smell so sweet, my daughter.” The Vampire Lord mutters against the skirts and you nearly break the skin of your bottom lip from how hard you’re biting on it. Your desire to have him immediately is palpable.

Yet your father seems to have half a mind to torture you in the sweetest way possible – by taking it slow. You sense him moving his face away and hear him stand up once more.

“Your hands behind you.” He commands and you pause, not sure if you should let go of your bunched up dress but decide that you should, then you move your hands behind you. A second later Cazador is tying your wrists together and from weird wet feeling on your skin you know he’s using your soaked panties to do that. “Leg up.” Vampire instructs and you inhale sharply, then lift one leg, resting your foot on the edge of the sarcophagus. “Such a good, obedient girl.” Cazador comments with a grin you can hear in his voice and you open your mouth to respond but a sudden grip on your throat makes you pause. He’s not squeezing to cut off your airflow but it’s a firm, commanding grip nonetheless.

Your father presses himself against your back and makes you lean your head back against his chest while he moves one hand, pulling your dress up again. Cold air of the night caressed your pussy that’s pulsating with need and warm blood. And Cazador is not unaware. When his long fingers begin caressing your plump from arousal folds, he exhales with satisfaction.

“You’re perfect.” He hums while his fingers play with your cunt, spreading your folds widely and letting your arousal begin to drip down your leg unobstructed.

You shiver and mewl at his touch, trying not to move your hips against his fingers, because you know you will be punished if you don’t remain still, as always, but it’s extremely hard to obey tonight. You’ve been wanting for your father even before he showed up at the cemetery part of the garden and now it’s near impossible when his fingertips are grazing your entrance and then moving onto your clit.

“You’re so wet for me.” Cazador comments with a tone that betrays his pride, he’s always proud when you’re easy for him. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” You nod before he even finishes his question and that makes him chuckle. “So so eager, my darling daughter. I guess that spawn of mine is incapable of doing even as little as keeping my precious girl satisfied sufficiently. Or is it that you truly don’t want any other man other than me, hm?” Cazador taunts and you lick your lips slowly, your eyelids become heavy because while he speaks he rubs lazy circles on your swollen clit, making you whimper and your propped leg tremble.

Yet you wonder if this is the right place to be touched like this, taken like this, it feels almost sinful. You feel like you can almost sense Donnela’s eyes on you, piercing through the stone lid of her tomb. And this split moment of doubt, a second of mild discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by Cazador. His fingers do not pause but you feel his lips against your ear and his grip around your throat tightens.

“What is it, my dear?” He whispers and you swallow dryly.

“Dad… should we be doing this here?” You dare to speak but Cazador doesn’t seem phased by your question nor does it seem to upset him.

“Yes, I’m doing this here.” Your father replies in his most casual manner and you gasp because he pushes a finger into your cunt, making your body shiver in response. “Do you think I’m scared of ghosts?” He asks as he pushes another finger in then begins pumping them slowly, drawing out the sensation of your hot flesh suffocating his digits.

You moan and shake your head slightly, knowing that you wouldn’t have a say in this in the first place. You hear your body make squelching sounds as Cazador fucks you with his fingers and you whine louder now, your body slowly but steadily beginning to prepare for the orgasm, sending shivers down your spine and making your cunt occasionally clench around your father’s fingers. Cazador knows this and he pulls them out of you, then without a warning he thrusts them into your open mouth, making you gasp around his fingers. Yet you don’t protest, you move your tongue, lapping up your own arousal and hear him chuckle against your ear, a low rumble that you feel against your back too.

“Not yet, my dear, you will get yours, but only after I get mine.” His teeth nip at your ear and you whine with despair, your body craving for release.

Then he removes his fingers from your mouth and with a firm grip on your thigh he lowers your leg, pushing you forwards and bending you over the sarcophagus, his grip on your neck vanishing with your repositioning. Your right cheek presses against the cold stone and you feel your father lift your skirts, pilling them up on your back.

Smack.

You flinch when his palm connects with the skin of your ass and you moan again. You wring your arms but the improvised bonds made from your panties hold tight, Cazador, after all, is well versed in subduing his prey and right now – that’s you.

“Tell me you want me.” He demands, his words hard and cold, and you whine when you feel his thumb circle your back entrance and push against it gently, not quite breaching it but putting enough pressure as if he has half a mind to do so.

“I want you dad.” You reply in a hurry and resist the urge to rub your thighs together, impatient and eager to feel him inside of you, no matter the hole he chooses.

“Oh how I like hearing that, my dear.” Cazador chuckles and his hand leaves you, letting your stinging skin cool in the night’s air. “I met Donnela once, you know.” He proceeds to speak while you remain still, your mind barely registering what he’s talking about. All you hear is the sound of fabric being handled as he undoes his pants. “She was a woman of grace but she was weak.”

A palm returns to your rear and he rubs the cheek that he smacked before, you feel the tip of his cock aligning himself to your entrance and you wait patiently, saying nothing. Your cunt aches to be filled, your folds are drenched with your arousal and Cazador seems to be teasing the juices with his length.

“You won’t be weak, will you?” He asks in a voice that’s more curious than demanding and you slightly shake your head. It’s taking everything in you not to move, not to buck your hips against his dick in hopes to be pierced by it. Your body is screaming with desire and you nearly salivate at the thought of him claiming you. Yes, he trained you well. “No, of course you won’t. You’re incapable of being weak.” Cazador chuckles and begins to slide his cock in, slowly, savoring every inch. It makes you moan with despair, because you want him fast and hard yet he’s still torturing you in his own, caring way.

You want to beg but you know better than that so you just wait until his length is buried in you fully, coldness of it nearly making your eyes roll to the back of your head and you exhale with relief. Even when he’s torturing you like this, Cazador never keeps it up for long once his dick is inside you. For a moment he just keeps himself unmoving, enjoying the squeezing heat around his cock but then his fingers grip your hip and he begins thrusting. Slowly, almost carefully, taking himself nearly all the way out and sliding back in with ease.

“You’re such a wonderful creature.” Cazador muses and with a corner of your eye you see him watching his dick disappear in you and then come out again, and then disappear again. Your body reacts with a tremble but he doesn’t address it, seemingly lost in thought. “If only you knew how important you are.”

“I know dad, I know.” You whine, hoping that it will urge him and it seems to work as the Vampire Lord snaps out of his thoughts and shoves his cock deep before leaning over you.

You don’t know what to expect but when you feel one of his arms slide under your stomach in a possessive embrace and his other hand find your throat once more, all while he presses his chest against your back, pinning you to the sarcophagus you realize just how much he wants you right now. A second of movement and his left knee is now on the sarcophagus, giving him proper angle to begin thrusting once more.

His grip on your body makes you incapable of moving even the tiniest bit so you just close your eyes and let him fuck you, feeling his icy length moving faster and faster. You hear Cazador’s breath becoming labored the longer this continues and you feel his tongue against the back of your neck, tasting you. You hear his subdued groans and sounds of his skin slapping against yours with every thrust, the most beautiful symphony. You begin feeling yourself come close, the perch of your father’s knee on the sarcophagus giving him the ability to really use his power to slam into you with as much force as he wants to. And in a few wonderful moments he wants to give you it all.

You moan and tremble, subdued by his hands that are like a straight-jacket and your head swims from pleasure, there’s no thoughts, just your Vampire Lord and you on this tomb, loving each other in a way only a father and a daughter can. At least to you - this is perfect, complete expression of love, and you let yourself sink into the feeling, allowing it to wash over you and take all your worries away. It’s you and him and it will be so forever.

Lost in your extasy you don’t notice a presence approaching, neither does your father. He fully expected to you have you all to himself in this lonesome corner of the garden and he’s completely lost in his lust for you, fangs now promisingly grazing your skin and you wish he would bite you already. Yet you dare not beg. Szarrs don’t beg, after all.

But the figure stops and watches you two tangled in this twisted expression of love. Astarion is nearly dumbfounded when he sees your face, your parted lips, witnesses your expression that speaks of nothing else but ultimate satisfaction. He hears your moans, sees the sweat on your face and then his eyes turn to his master when he makes you cry out once his fangs sink into your neck. The spawn never seen Cazador like this, his expression filled with sensuality he never imagined seeing on a face of a man who he only knows as cruel.

Astarion realizes he sees something he shouldn’t and nearly moves to walk away, maybe hide, but he can’t, because if his master sensed him approaching he would’ve ordered him away already. So he remains still, trying to turn his eyes away but being unable to, his gaze again focused on you and your moment of utter bliss as you very obviously begin approaching your orgasm. He recognizes it even if he never saw you to be this much into it when you’re with him. Astarion’s hands clench into fists and he frowns, jealous and angry. At you, at Cazador, but most importantly at himself. The only way he even manages to get you obey is when he repeats phrases his master does, when Astarion invokes your father’s name before you to remind you who you truly belong to. Spawn’s teeth grit but he can’t look away so he watches with boiling fury in his chest, not daring to look away but not daring to say anything either.

If only he had the power like Cazador he could have anyone he wanted, including you. But he can’t even have you to want Astarion as much as you want your father, spiritually and carnally. He’s reminded of his own powerless existence and hates it.

Astarion keeps watching as you moan louder and louder, hears how your voice echoes into the night and listens to Cazador groan against your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic and hurried, rushing to grant him release that he craves so badly.

“Say it.” Cazador growls with undisguised lust the moment his fangs leave your neck and you immediately know what he means.

“I’m yours, dad! I’m your good girl!” you whine with a shaky voice, you’re trying to hold on, not to come just yet, you know he likes it when he finishes first, but his body pinning yours against the tomb lid is becoming too heavy, you can barely inhale.

“That’s right.” Cazador hisses and his grip on your throat tightens as his lips push aside the dress and press against your shoulder. “You’re mine, now and forever.” He repeats and you can’t tell if it’s a reminder to you or himself, your mind is too dazed to think, too filled with bliss you’re trying to keep at bay.

Then your father’s teeth clamp onto your shoulder tighter, so tight it’s like he wants to take an actual bite out of you. With that he comes, milking his cock with your clenched walls while you try not to come yourself. But the moment he does you let go and cry out, shouting his name into the night while Cazador squeezes on your throat nearly taking your breath away. Your cunt spasms, pulling out last drops of his seed and he keeps thrusting until he knows that your peak is passing. His hips against your body slow, then stop entirely, and you both remain still for a long moment. You hear Cazador panting against your skin with your shoulder still caught between his teeth and you smile dreamily. You couldn’t be happier.

At last the Vampire Lord releases your flesh from his bite and lifts his head, looking at your sweaty face with pride and something too close to love, but you see none of it, because by the time you open your eyes, Cazador is pushing himself from you, his hands leaving your neck and waist, his perched leg finding footing on the ground, and he pulls out of you carefully, not spilling a single drop of his cum. You gasp when you feel him push in a thumb into your cunt, then move it as if he’s confirming just how fully he filled you and it looks like the conclusion satisfies him because you feel your wrists being unbound from the bondage of your panties.

You bring your wrists to yourself, your arms feel numb and weird, but you still push yourself up from the tomb and look back at Cazador, feeling the skirts of your dress drop around your legs the moment you straighten your back, but now you see that he’s not even looking at you.

When you follow your father’s haughty gaze you recognize the silver curls and the scowl. Astarion. How long he has been standing here? You have no clue. You look at Cazador and see an arrogant grin on his face while he tucks his softening cock back into his pants and makes himself presentable once more.

You find yourself mortified for some reason. Maybe because of how Astarion is glaring at his master. With so much hate that you are sure your father will want to punish it. So when he begins walking, not giving you even a glance, you realize you’re clenching the skirts of your dress so strongly your hands are shaking. You watch Cazador walk to Astarion and lean down to his spawn’s ear, whispering something that you cannot hear. Astarion doesn’t move, his gaze now shifted onto you, and then Cazador pats his shoulder with a wide smirk as he walks off, tall and proud. A conqueror.

When your father’s footsteps fade, you watch Astarion straighten his back, his lips pressed into a thin line but he’s not moving. You swallow dryly and feel your legs move before you consciously demand them to. You briefly notice your panties tossed on the ground but ignore them and walk down the path, knowing you’ll have to pass Astarion. Your breathing stops entirely when you get closer, seeing pure rage in spawn’s eyes but you don’t look at him, you command yourself not to as you try to keep your strolling pace, but when you’re about to think that you’re safe, as you think nothing will happen when you pass the pale elf, you feel your upper arm suddenly being gripped with such force that your knees buckle and you drop down on the hard stone.

You raise your face and see Astarion come into view, his gaze filled with fury when he gazes down upon you, his lips curled into a snarl while he holds your arm so painfully you wince with an unsaid plea to be released, but it looks like he enjoys seeing you kneeling and hurting.

“You see me just as he does, don’t you? A worthless spawn! A slave for you both!” He asks in a voice that’s nearly trembling with fury and you gasp, trying to wrench your arm from his fingers.

“What? Astarion, I have no idea-“ Your own voice is shaking from pain and panic that you’re feeling at witnessing spawn’s rage that you don’t even know why you deserve it.

“SHUT UP!” Astarion bellows and you flinch as if hit.

Your eyes are wide from shock and building terror as your lips quiver, trying to form words that could save you or doom you. But spawn ignores your evident fear and finally releases your arm, now grabbing your jaw as he leans over you, bringing his face close to yours. His nails dig into your skin and you wince but keep looking into his eyes, not daring to guess what’s coming next.

“You will never see me as anything but a slave for the rest of your existence, will you?” Astarion’s voice is low and dangerous and you swallow dryly, remaining silent. Your arm throbs but you can barely feel right now. “Tell me, little dhampir, do you think being allowed to fuck you is enough?” He smirks but there’s venom in his expression, poison that you haven’t seen in him before, something that you now realize has been festering in him for a long long time.

“Astarion, what’s gotten into you?” You manage a silent whisper and he squeezes your jaw so tightly you let out a pained moan, your arms gripping at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away but it’s like trying to move a statue – impossible.

“Nothing’s gotten into me, darling. I’ve just realized that no matter how sweetly you moan for me, you will never be truly mine. Is it because I’m not your father or is it because I’m not powerful enough to kill him?”

Your heart skips a beat from sheer terror.

Kill your father? What is he talking about? He can’t be serious. He’s a spawn, surely he can’t even if he wanted to? And for you? Would Astarion attempt that just to have you all to himself?

“You’re hurting me.” You whine, trying to pry his fingers off your face and with a scoff he releases your jaw.

“You like being taught lessons, don’t you?” Spawn says while you rub your jaw with trembling fingers.

“If you hurt me my father will-“

“I don’t care!” Astarion raises his voice again and you just glare at him from under your eyebrows. Who is he to lay his hands on you? “You will be mine.” Not a promise but a threat while you watch him begin to unlace his pants. “Keep kneeling or I will snap your neck.” Another threat spoken with a tone of voice telling you that he means every word. Your knees hurt already but remain on them, watching how he takes out his semi-flaccid cock and begins stroking it with a smirk blooming on his face. “I love how easily you submit, darling. Some things even Cazador does right.”

“Just because you feel powerless it doesn’t mean you have any right to take it out on me.” You can’t help but respond, your jaw still hurts and so does your arm, and you stare at Astarion with anger instead of fear but he just grins at you. There’s no fondness in those eyes, there rarely is, and you understand only now, realize that for him – you’re a conquest, a symbol of power. To Cazador and Astarion both, it seems that to have you – is to have power.

The thought itself stirs something in your body. A response that is so deeply ingrained in you that you weren’t even aware of it until now – you want to be treated this way. Not with roughness but as a reward for being powerful. Maybe it’s just one more of Cazador’s lessons that you internalized it so deeply until it became a part of you.

“I’m not taking my anger out of you, sweet little dhampir. I’m just remind you that Cazador is not the only one who has claim to your body.” Astarion’s grin is sharp and you notice him growing harder by the second. “Open your mouth.” He commands and you look into his eyes with a scowl.

“If you hurt me-“

He slaps you so hard you see only white for a long moment, the sound of it ringing through your ears and nearly deafening you if only temporarily. Your head swings so strongly to your left that you nearly fall to all fours but somehow remain on your knees. Your anger gets replaced by shock and fear once again as you look at the spawn looming over you.

“I said open your mouth.” Astarion repeats and his voice is full of danger so you just release a shaky breath and open your mouth obediently. His expression softens at your compliance and he even smiles, although it’s a smile of a victor and not of a lover, but has he ever been your lover or just another man who wanted your body but not your soul? “See, it’s easier when you simply obey.” Spawn croons in a voice that would sound alluring if you didn’t know what danger lurked just under the surface.

Astarion’s hand moves to tangle into your hair and he roughly yanks back on them, making you face upwards. You blink couple times at the pain but keep your lips parted while he looks down on you with a smug expression. Expression that tells you he doesn’t see you, not really, maybe never have. You’re something to be used, to satisfy himself with, to remind him that the only power he has right now is power over you. And you can’t help but be turned on. You haven’t noticed through the whole interaction how Cazador’s cum seeped out of your cunt and down your thighs but now that you’re getting aroused again you realize how wet your skin is from your father’s seed and your own juices flowing freely out of your entrance.

“You’ve been taught to obey your whole life, little dhampir.” Astarion’s voice is almost soothing as he releases his hard cock and his fingers brush lose hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear like a lover would, but you see the storming rage behind his eyes. It’s subdued now but still present, so much like your father. “Now don’t speak, I don’t want to hear another word from you, understood?”

You nod with a blush spreading across your face and Astarion is not blind to that. It gives him a feeling of satisfaction that no matter what he does to you – you will want him and become aroused by him. It gives him that desired feeling of power. If not over anything else in his miserable slave life, then at least power over you.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” He whispers more to himself than to you and you grip your skirts, trying not to show how aroused you are becoming but your salivating mouth betrays you.

Astarion grips the base of his dick and steps just a little closer, still holding your head firmly in place just before he shoves himself fully into your mouth. You feel the tip of his cock at the back of your throat, cutting off air and you make a pathetic whine before your mouth is full and your face is smashed against his pelvis. You didn’t even have time to notice when his fingers left his length.

“Take it, pet, take it all.” Spawn croons and you let go of your dress and grab onto his pants. At first you try to pull your face away but his grip on your hair is so tight you can’t move an inch.

Your eyes begin to water and your tongue moves in protest of your throat trying to gag around his cock. You forget your stinging cheek and forget Astarion’s rage, you’re in your element now and your pussy throbs with desire even while you struggle without air. His words only escalate your desire, you can’t resist what’s in your nature.

After a long moment, by the point your head begins to swim from lack of oxygen, Astarion finally pulls your head away from his cock. You gasp for air and look up at him, tears rolling down your face and his glistening dick is still connected to your mouth by heavy strings of saliva.

“Beautiful.” Vampire spawn comments with almost soothing affection and then shoves his length back into your mouth, beginning to thrust against your face. “Good obedient little pet, aren’t you? You don’t care who you submit to as long as you do.” His words are mocking but you don’t care.

With drooping eyelids you try to swirl your tongue against his hard cock, enjoying the texture and the sensation of veins, your mouth keeps salivating, covering your chin and dripping down his balls but you care for none of this, you just want to feel him come down your throat. How the tip of his length hits the back of your throat again and again makes your whole body ache with renewed desire.

“What a cock-hungry slut you are.” You hear Astarion chuckle but his breathing sounds increasingly labored and you lift your eyes to him, finally seeing his satisfied expression and lust in his gaze that replaced the rage from earlier. He wants you so much, you realize. “Worship me like you worship Cazador.” He suddenly demands and pulls his dick out of your mouth.

He slams your face against his cock, wetness of it staining your cheek and eyelid, but you stick out your tongue and begin licking. You hear his breathy chuckle and finally he releases your hair, giving you freedom which you immediately use to drag your tongue up and down his length. When you look up at him, you see that Astarion is consumed by pleasure, his eyes clouded and lips parted. You both are panting loudly but you notice it only now.

“Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me.” Astarion says with a degree of desperation in his voice and you hesitate before answering.

“I need you, Astarion. And I want you.” You say with your own voice coarse from the rough face-fucking you have been administered just earlier and a pleased smile appears on Astarion’s face.

“Keep going.”

So you do. Enthusiastically you resume licking his cock, tracing every vein and groove with the tip of your tongue, swirling it around the soft tip of his dick, making him moan now. You feel his hand return to your hair, both of them this time, but he’s not gripping it anymore, just cradling your head while you keep covering his length with saliva. For a moment you even dip your head lower, licking his balls, taking one of them into your mouth gently, sucking on it, then giving same attention to the other one.

“Oh gods, you’re so good…” Astarion struggles to speak and you smile proudly to yourself, you always love to be praised.

After a moment longer you return to his cock and take it into your mouth fully, your tongue pressing to the underside of it and you begin to bob your head, completely focused on the task at hand. You feel Astarion’s fingers tremble against your skull and you know he’s close.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so delicious.” Spawn moans and you feel his length twitch against your tongue just before Astarion shoves it deep into your mouth and begins spilling himself down your throat.

You gulp it down, listening to him moan as he uses your mouth to milk himself of every last drop and when he finally stops you hear him panting while still firmly cradling your head. After a moment Astarion pulls back and you release his already softening dick from your mouth, letting it drop. You open your eyes and look up, noticing his flushed face, beads of sweat on his forehead and his clouded eyes, but a satisfied smirk soon pulls at his lips and by your hair he yanks you back, letting go just before you drop-sit on your feet, finally getting some relief for your knees.

Without a word you use the back of your hand to wipe your chin and lips while Astarion quietly tucks himself back into his pants.

“I hope you won’t forget who you belong to, darling.” He coos again so sweetly it’s almost hard to believe he lost his composure so utterly just earlier. Your desire is still throbbing within your body like a drum but you realize that he’s done with you, at least for now.

“So that’s what this was all about?” You ask and with a silent grunt you get to your feet, looking into his eyes with a small frown. “You saw me with father and decided you needed to remind me that he’s not the only one who can have me?”

Astarion laughs and reaches out, caressing the same cheek he hit. It feels soothing, pleasantly cold against your sore skin and you lean into his touch before you can think against it.

“Maybe. Maybe not. In any case, I had a good time.” Spawn says and you can’t help but smile ever so slightly.

“You’re easy to please then, unlike my father.” You tease him and Astarion chuckles, removing his hand from your face, then he eyes you up and down slowly, as if trying to memorize exactly how you look in this moment, disheveled hair and all, your dress crumpled and stained.

“Maybe you should consider prioritizing me instead of him then. I would be a merciful master to you.” He says and your blink few times, trying to understand if you really heard what you just heard. Does Astarion really want you to choose?

“Astarion…” You begin, trying to pick your words but he just laughs again and starting to walk away, strutting with pride of a Vampire Lord himself.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure, my little dhampir.” He says loudly and strolls back to the palace while you remain standing there, exhausted and dumbfounded.

Suddenly you feel like you’re between a hammer and an anvil and you dread to think what would happen if both Cazador and Astarion began getting increasingly jealous over you.

One thing you are sure of, if it ever came to that – someone wouldn’t survive.

The thought makes you shudder and you hope it will never come to that.

[irlpinkiepie]

anyway update on what i've been up to, since it's been a year since i've posted anything at all and much longer than that since i've actually talked about my life in any detail on here:

still in cleveland! left my parents' a few months after i graduated to go live with friends from uni (sidenote, if you are in a position to do so? holy shit, move out from your parents', it is crazy worth it) and now those friends are partners! might be nice to move someplace else sometime if those partners are up for it, maybe somewhere on the northeast corridor? but as it stands i am fucking loving this city even if it does not quite fulfil my childhood expectation of 'hey i have lived in the same country for more than two years, that's kinda weird'

i have a job now! a like, actual full-time job, which is still wild given quite how long i kinda expected that that would be something i would never be able to manage on account of the Autism. turns out though that people will pay you to just look over spreadsheets and write documents for them? would that it were easier to find such a place which paid better and had a better work culture but, such as it is

speaking of partners actually, i am up to uh. five now! it turns out that i have an absurd amount of love in my heart and basically the only reason that number is not greater than five is because of the aforementioned having a full-time job and not really having the time in the day to have more partners than that. so cool to be the weird freaky polyamorous trans girl i always dreamed i would be though

oh yeah! bottom surgery! hopefully that's gonna be soon! i've got an appointment next week to get the last of my insurance letters, and then fingers crossed i can get a follow-up and make it happen sometime next year? have i talked about getting bottom surgery at all on here? well i am not going to go into too much detail on a sfw post but the gist is i found out that there was a way to do bottom surgery that let you have both and was like 'oh my god okay this perfectly captures the way i want my body to look' and immediately called up a surgeon's office to schedule a first appointment

chicken pet. need i say more

writing again! for the first time in a good long while, taking a story i wrote a couple years ago and pulling it out of the shared universe in which it originally resided so that i can do more of the things i wanted to with it. if you're one of the like, two or three people who knows what that story is from that description, i'll put the original back up once i'm finished with the rewrite and have a place to link it to people; i would like to have the chance to tell this story on my own terms, but i absolutely don't want it to be completely lost media

cycling! one of the perks of living in a big city it turns out is that it's actually easy to get to places and so i have been cycling a whole bunch just out of practicality, but it turns out that it's also just really fun to do? absolutely not a sport cyclist by any means, my bike is a $200 cruiser from target, but it's just so so nice to go outside and do things and perform physical activity

in short: i feel like life has been generally pretty darn great! and i am glad to be able to share that here with y'all

[armoreddragon]

how did you first get into making this stuff? do you enjoy it?

There's a lot of possible answers here.

For a couple years after college, I worked at a laser engraving and cutting shop. Leather was a material we knew we could cut, but nobody ever asked for it, so I looked up some basic info and put together some masks as demo pieces. Then I got fired for unrelated reasons, but decided to keep going with the masks on my own. A decade later, I’m still going.

I've always enjoyed making things. The focused calm of working a craft, the challenge of finding the problems that need solving, followed by the satisfaction of holding in your hands something that hadn't exited before. It’s hard to beat that feeling. If you haven’t done it for a while, I highly recommend making a habit of it.

Sometime in college I realized that if I kept making things just for myself, I would eventually run out of both space in my closet and money in my bank account. So I took the best photos I could of what I had, and started posting it up on Etsy.

In high school ceramics class, I had an idea to try and make a flexible dragon skin out of little bits of clay, all glazed differently. I had no idea how to do this. A friend of mine was like "Yo it sounds like you want to look up how to make chainmail for that." She was right.

I work in architecture by day, and the decision to do that was unrelated but definitely related to my crafting obsession. Designing a kitchen, a café, a house, takes months or years of work, most of which is tedious details like picking tile patterns or looking up exactly what order to layer different sealant tapes to make sure the walls are watertight. Designing a crafting project gives me a creative outlet that is immediate. I can sit down for an afternoon and take an idea from a sketch on trace paper, to a final mask formed up out of leather. There's an excitement to that. A reminder that, yes, I can make cool stuff quickly, without needing to sink two years into a project.

For a while I worked to teach myself to draw. I managed to get pretty decent at sketching from life, with a moderate understanding of anatomy and perspective. I liked art, so I thought I wanted to make art. But I struggled with it. If I was drawing something from my imagination, no matter how well I managed to put the lines down on the paper, I would ultimately look at it and just be sad that it didn't exist in the real world. So eventually I gave up on the drawing part, and focused on the part I seemed to actually care about.

I can't envision a version of myself that doesn't make things. I think on some fundamental level, I measure my worth as a person based on what I put forth into the world. I don't know what else to do.

When you decide to turn a hobby into a business, it of course takes some of the delight away. It's no longer something you do when you want to relax and have some fun. It becomes an obligation, to make and ship orders on time, to pack up your stuff and bring it to craft fairs, to track your expenses and file your taxes, to stay on top of the constantly changing social media landscape. But it also lights a fire under your ass. You can't just keep making the same thing you made three years ago–you have to keep making new stuff, keep improving your techniques, keep reaching for new ideas that have never been made before. You lose some of the joy, but you gain a lot of satisfaction.

All through my childhood I filled my closet with little handicrafts kits, that I got as gifts or that caught my eye when following my dad to the art store. Calligraphy, wood carving, weaving looms, boondoggles, spirographs, knitting, crochet, fancy nautical knots, sculpey, and more that I can't remember. After all those different things, I’m so glad that I found a couple specific crafts that really grabbed me, that take enough work to develop expertise, that have expansive enough applications and possibilities, that I could devote a decade or more of my time to focusing on them.

I’d been interested in the furry fandom ever since little fantasy reading teenager me tried looking for stories where the dragons were the main characters, and I found people online who were doing just that. There’s a powerful do-it-yourself attitude that’s baked into the core of the fandom: The world isn’t giving us the art that we want, so we’re going to make it ourselves. I keep having ideas for things that I want, that don’t exist yet. If I want them to exist, I have to be the one to make them.

My dad was a photographer, and I spent many childhood afternoons with him in his darkroom in the basement, delightedly washing negatives, turning them gently over in their canisters of chemicals, sitting still in the dark as Dad unspooled the sensitive film, squinting in the red light as the projected images magically re-emerged on the clean white paper. What could be more amazing, more normal, more right, than having your own little space to work such magic for yourself.

In about 2008 or 9 I ordered my first batch of metal scales, with the idea of trying to make a dragon tail in time for Halloween. It took probably a couple weeks to figure out how to make it, and within a week I had thought of how to do it better and disassembled the entire thing. By the 3rd or 4th time I'd rebuilt it, I thought that it was probably good enough that I wouldn't feel embarrassed to post it online and see if someone might want to buy it.

Of course I love working on these things I make. But I don't think that's exactly why I make them.

[12timetraveler]

Something In The Orange

Chapter 12

Summary:

The Matthews family take you and Charles to their cabin in Big Valley for a winter vacation.

Notes:

Y'all I am SO SORRY for how long this chapter has taken.

I hit some major burnout over the last few months. So much so that I've actually been put on short-term disability leave from work. I'm starting to feel a bit better and I've been able to do more writing, but I'm still pretty worn out if I'm honest.

As always, this chapter was written entirely on my phone, so any weird typos, autocorrect words, etc you can blame on my phone haha.

Anyway I hope I haven't lost all of you who've been here since the beginning.

As always below is a little preview. Read the whole chapter and the entire work (so far) on AO3

Reminder: You must be logged in to an AO3 account to read my works as I've had to lock them down to protect from AI Scraping.

~~~~~~

You couldn't help but smile as you examined the three pins on your Christmas stocking. Three Christmas seasons with the Matthews family, each marked with a little pin. The silver horse-drawn sleigh from the first year. Then a little mouse sleeping next to a piece of cheese with a bow from the second year. And this year was a cowgirl boot and hat dusted in snow.

Christmas was a month ago, of course. Hosea hadn't had time to take down the stockings. Or all the lights. Or the menorah. But you were actually kind of glad about that. It was nice to see the cheerful sight, even in late January.

Going back to campus after the winter holidays this year had been awful. You tried your best to be a good student, to get excited for your classes and get right back into studying. But you found your thoughts drifting more and more to your beloved. Wondering what he was doing. Missing his sweet voice, his herbal scent, his long cock. It had been torture.

Monday was a bank holiday, meaning the high schools and the universities had a three-day weekend. So Friday afternoon you and Arthur drove up to Firwood Rise to pick up Hosea, John, and the horses to go on a little weekend trip. The plan was to go out to a cabin Hosea and Dutch shared out in Big Valley, West Elizabeth.

Aside from a couple ranches, it was still mostly wild, and even in the winter the trail rides were unforgettable. Or so Arthur said. This was your first expedition with the Matthews men out to this cabin. You'd never been to Big Valley, but it was legendary for the beautiful, natural scenery.

Charles was going to meet you at the cabin early Saturday morning, since he had a late class on Friday. His old beat-up truck was a beast when it came to snowy mountain roads, so you weren't worried. And then the lot of you would spend the weekend trail riding, maybe doing some snow sports, just having a good time.

So that's how you found yourself standing in the Matthews living room, smiling at the stockings while the others loaded up the truck. You could hear John and Arthur yelling out in the yard as John backed the truck up to the horse trailer to hitch up. Occasionally Hosea's voice would cut in if the two got too close to an argument as John insisted he could do it while Arthur was adamant he was doing it wrong. Typical of the two brothers.

You heard the truck turn off, and the driver door open. “Told you I had it covered,” John's voice echoed just loud enough that you could hear from inside. You couldn't make out Arthur's retort, but based on the way John began to snap back, only to be cut off by Hosea’s sharp scolding, you could only imagine it was more brotherly banter.

The door opened a moment later. “Those boys,” Hosea tutted, stepping into the house, looking a little irritated, cheeks rosy from the cold. His face softened when he spotted you, and he shut the door behind him, glancing out the window to make sure John and Arthur weren't near before stepping toward you and pulling you into his arms.

“Hey,” you murmured, tilting your head up expectantly.

“Hi,” he whispered before granting your request for a kiss. “I've missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You nuzzled against his chest, the fabric of his jacket cold from the winter chill, but the warmth of him underneath still seeping through.

“The boys are loading up the horses and then we'll be good to go.” Hosea hummed.

“Okay,” you said, stepping back. “Before we go, I need your help with something.”

“Oh?” He asked. You jerked your head towards the stairs, gesturing for him to follow you. Once upstairs you led him to the bathroom, pulling him in and locking the door behind you.

“Dove, it'll only take a few minutes for the boys to get the horses loaded.” Hosea chuckled, immediately clocking what your intentions were.

“Five horses. It'll take them at least ten minutes right? Probably more.” You mumbled, guiding him backwards until he was pinned between you and the sink.

“Something like that,” he sighed as your hands settled on his waist. “The horses are all pretty good at loading.”

“That's enough time for what I have planned.”

[fabbyf1]

i just had to stop by and thank you properly for sharing your writing with the world. I found your ao3 a few months ago after reading Take My Hand and proceeded to binge every crumb of writing you had posted at that point. I reactivated my tumblr account which hadn’t been used in years just to follow along with your writing process and when you’d be posting (i’m pretty sure the first fic i read right after it was posted was the GP fic lmao)

not long after i found your writing, my soulmate kitty started getting sick. 4 years ago today actually, my parents brought me my fluffy, orange boy and we saved each other. he’s been sick for 4 straight months now and his vet hasn’t been able to find anything to explain his health issues which understandably has reeked havoc on my anxiety.

with all of that said, it’s your writing, specifically lestappen, that i turn to when i’m anxious and need to get out of my head. it’s something about the way you write those two that allows me to be pulled into their story and able to escape mine for awhile. (i am taking care of myself and doing the exercises my therapist recommends, so don’t worry cool aunt kate lol) i love open they are with their adoration of each other and that they always get a happy ending, but they’re still depicted as normal humans with quirks and flaws.

so thank you. thank you for being you and thank you for sharing your lestappen. i hope you always feel as truly appreciated as you are 🤍

omfgggg 😭😭😭

bestie, thank you so much. this was so incredibly kind of you to say. i really appreciate how long this must have taken to write out. you are very kind, and this made me feel very special. i'm so glad that you have been able to find some comforting my writing.

i have always turned to fanfiction in times of trouble, whether that be reading or writing, and i'm so glad to hear that my work can be that comfort you.

please reach out if you ever need anything ❤️ we are all here for you.

[racefortheironthrone]

Hey there,

So I read the Locked Tomb series a few months ago and one thing that occurred to me after reading Nona the Ninth was that the John Gauis’s account of the end of the world could not be fundamentally trusted.  While I believe that Tamsyn Muir intended for these passages to be “true” or “Accurate” to what happened I found unable to accept the chapters due to the number and severity of lies told by John.  It also led to me notice any inconsistency, irregularity, or any implausible scenario and to see it as evidence of another lie by John. 

My question I suppose is if an author uses an unreliable narrator when (or if) should the audience trust said narrator again.  

In part my extreme skepticism started when John mentioned the oxygen crisis, that such a scenario would be so sever and immediate that there would be little time for John’s necromantic schemes.  It was further stoked by John’s impractical cryogenic plan (why would you send frozen people to the Kuiper Belt), and later on John’s  mis-remembering when and how original-Gideon died and that he was telling this story to Harrow hark trying to convinced her to join him.

I am quite certain that my extreme distrust is unwarranted and that Muir intended for us to believe John’s tale but I cannot help but notice the inconsistencies and find John utterly dishonest and unbelievable.

I'm glad you asked this question, because it allows me to talk about how to apply historiographical methodology to literary analysis.

One of the terms that I was exposed to during my training as a historian is the "hermeneutics of suspicion" - the practice of reading texts such that the on-its-face meaning of the text is false and that you have to read the text solely for its deeper, hidden meanings. The problem with the hermeneutics of suspicion is that, taken to a logical conclusion, all texts and meanings become false, and for lack of evidence, all academic inquiry shuts down and we wind up sitting on the floor with our hands over our mouths.

Now, this doesn't mean that you have to take texts as 100% valid either, but rather that good methodological practice requires a careful weighing and balancing of bias, rather than simplistic binaries.

So in the case of John's narrative in Nona the Ninth, is John meant to be an unreliable narrator? Yes. However, because Tamsyn Muir does actually play fair with the readers, she makes it quite clear when John is lying to Harrow/Alecto:

"I said I made a mistake. She let it go eventually because the others were telling her to lay off. Just said Guys as careful as you shouldn't have accidents. If you've got a gun learn how to aim it. This is too big for fuckups now... "Did you ever find out what happened? With your accident?" He turned to her and he smiled a funny little smile. It only used one half of his mouth. In the dream his new eyes did not show happiness or unhappiness. And he said, "Come on, love. Guys as careful as me don't have accidents."

And here again:

"I did need to do it, Harrow. There was no other way. Once those bombs were going off, there was no hope for Melbourne anyway-- G- was dead meat." She said-- "You said that G-'s bomb went off first." "Yeah, it did," he said impatiently. "Of course it did...Look-what does it matter? In the end, why the hell does it matter?"

Unfortunately for John Gaius, Harrowhark Nonagesimus is smarter than he is when she's in her right mind and she catches the discrepancies in his story - just as we are meant to do.

So what I would say is that, unless it's something where Tamsyn Muir gives us clues like this where other characters are calling John out on his bullshit, you should treat worldbuilding issues like the population of Earth, or the logistics of cryocans, or the speed of shuttle transports in the Nine Houses, etc. as either mistakes on the part of the author (when they actually are mistakes) or just part of the overall willing suspension of disbelief that comes with speculative fiction.

[chaitantei-ao3]

1

“Charlie, it will be big and bloody! That’s the whole point! It’ll be great if it covers the entire wall making it the first thing you see when you enter!”

“No! That’s where my rat traps go! If you put it there I have no place for my traps, Mac. Rats will be climbing all over it and I’ll have no choice but to kill them!” Charlie makes a swinging motion, whipping his arms out. “But hey, that’ll make it bloody. There’s gonna be blood everywhere ! So… Does that solve your problem? Does it Mac?!”

“Jesus, no one puts actual blood on the Cross, Charlie. What’s wrong with you?”

“No one puts crucifixes in bars.”

“Oh my god. I told you we need to rediscover Paddy’s image. It’s about time that we really become the Irish Catholic bar Paddy’s was always meant to be. Why do you think we named it Paddy’s in the first place?”

Dennis rubs his forehead, “We didn’t decide to name it Paddy’s.”

“Guys. You know what we should have? A comedy club, yeah. Let’s put up a stage instead and let me-”

“Fine, we didn’t name it. But that’s how we found it. Why it appeared like the Jesus star. A sign from God ultimately leading us, the three wise men to own this bar.”

“Now that’s ridiculous.” Dennis says.

Charlie throws his hands in the air. “Rats everywhere, Mac! I’m not having it.”

“Is anybody listening to-”

“Charlie, we're doing this whether you like it or not. Frank, I need cash to purchase the biggest crucifix anyone’s ever seen.”

“No can do.” Frank veers on his stool.

“What?”

“There’s nothing in the bar’s account.”

“C’mon Frank. You always have money.” Dennis says.

“Yeah, or just take another loan. Money, money, money.” Mac chants.

“I’ve not got any money for you fools.”

“Man, you’re bankrupt again? They’ll bail you out right.” Charlie raises his brows.

“If we are getting bankrupt I want my parachute and it better be golden.”

“I’m glad we’re finally moving on to the business of air tours over Philly, I told you we should have looked into that landing pad months ago.”

“It’s not even that tough, you just need some clearance, a licensed pilot. But that’s easy. And those guys don’t look at credit scores and other useless details. It’ll pay for itself, it’s a banker’s wet dream.”

“Well I could always train to become a pilot, the ladies do like a uniform. And if things become interesting inside the cockpit, yeah I said that Dee, don’t make that face. I’ll be using that parachute, Frank, thanks.”

“No way Dennis, I’ll look way cooler jumping. Actually, you can keep the parachute, that way me jumping off that helicopter would look way more badass.”

“I’m not buying you a helicopter for you to fall from it you idiots, it was a figure of speech.”

“You know we’re overthinking it with fancy parachutes, we should just crash the helicopter and go the good old insurance fraud route.”

“Enough!” Frank smacks the bar stool next to him, then winces, “Dammit, look what you made me do, it left a mark. I could have gotten a few cents more on its sale.”

Dee laughs, “Ha, you’d be lucky to get a penny for that. Five years ago some dogs were having sex on it.”

“What?!” Dennis throws the bar towel to the side and folds his hands over his chest. “Dee, you unbelievable bitch. You said you found it in a flea market.”

“No, asshole. I said I found it with fleas on it. Clearly nobody listens to a word I say here. And I was suggesting that we put up-” Dennis focuses his attention on Frank.

“Okay, this is between us and the dogs. I could still sell it.” Frank strokes his chin.

“What is all this about selling, Frank. You’re not serious.”

“Hells yes, I am. We have a big problem.”

“So what if Paddy’s losing money. This is temporary.”

“Paddy’s always losing money. Anyone in their right mind would’ve shut down this business long ago.”

“Excuse me.” Mac says.

“You can’t sell the bar, Frank.” Dennis pinches his forehead, “As co-owners we veto this decision.”

Frank shrugs, “Be better for you anyway.”

“Frankie what’s happening?” Charlie looks at him.

Frank pushes his glasses up his nose, “I lost the paper trail, Charlie. All my books-”

“Don’t you have to make sure you don’t leave a paper trail? Look guys, take it from me. I have an idea of what an audit now-”

“Shut up, Dee.”

“Frank, wait. You’re saying this is about a goddamn paper trail?”

Frank grunts, “My businesses are in deep shit. I cannot make new fakes if I don’t know which fakes to buy and which fakes to sell.”

Mac’s mouthing fake with a questioning look, Charlie is glancing between Frank and Dennis, Dee is- Dennis faces Frank and says, “That hardly looks like a problem to me.”

"Okay, whatever. I don't know about you guys but Fight Milk is doing very well, I'll just hop on that." Mac says.

Charlie looks at him and nods. "Me too!"

“I can't fund that thing without the shells."

"I thought we had a deal, Frank. You said you were interested."

"I am interested. But like I said, I need that list! There's no money without that list for anything.”

Dennis narrows his gaze, looking at Frank. “Well, if you’re not interested in putting in money then sell your goddamn shares.”

“Fine.” Frank says. “I’ll sell ‘em. I’m losing money here anyway.”

“Shit, you are serious.” Charlie says, “Frank, are you leaving us?”

“I said what I said.” Frank says.

They look at each other.

Read more

[providing-leverage]

Fic in Review 2023

This looks fun, thanks to @writer-and-thrasher for the tag

Total Number of Completed Stories: 16, which is great because my goal was 12 (one a month, which didn't happen, but oh well)

Total Word Count: 77,440! Again, I had a goal and surpassed it (getting to 300k on my account) and it feels really good.

Fandoms Written In: So much Ted Lasso, which I discovered after Sunflowers came out and was trending. I saw canon gay characters and went sign me up even if I don't normally like comedy stuff. I'm super glad I did because I've not written so much for a fandom so fast since my Shadowhunters hyperfixation years ago. Other than those 12, I did some PJO, Supernatural, and Batman, and Teen Wolf.

Looking back did you expect to write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expect: so much less! Ted Lasso brainworms truly won this year

What’s your own favorite story of the year, personally?: I'm super proud of myself for finishing Past and Present Now Embrace, one of my few non Ted Lasso fics. Bianca was a very interesting character and the Percy Jackson universe it a great sandbox to play in.

Did you take any writing risks this year?: I think my trend towards gen stuff, because obviously romantic stuff gets more hits a lot of the time so I've trained myself to sprinkle it in even when it doesn't really need to be there. But with Ted Lasso I really felt like I could embrace the platonic stuff and when I did write romance it was because I wanted to.

Do you have any fanfic goals for the New Year?: I want to write a multichapter, and I'm hoping that multichapter will be either Stranger Ranger or Guard Your Heart. I've also been watching to rework the second and third parts of SSA Sam Singer.

Best story of the year: personally I'm really proud of the Fundamentals of Love and Lying, which is so self indulgent

Most popular story of the year: Get It Off Your Chest for sure, and I think that's all to do with the blurb I used in the summary

Most personal story of the year: Oh for sure it's a rather touching notion which is also probably the one I wrote the quickest. An aroace character figuring out who they are, feeling outside of so many social interactions because they lack romantic and sexual attraction? Pure projection. Also The A Team because yay autism.

Funniest story of the year: While the summary for Get it Off Your Chest is funny, Colin's reasons for picking up lesbians is deeply sad so I can't really say that. Eliza's exasperation with Jamie in Flowers for Dani is pretty funny though.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Fundamentals took a lot of work but it's also a rarepair I invented the tag for and narrated by a character that is basically an OC, so I understand why it's not everyone's cup of tea.

Most fun story to write: Holy Novelty Socks Batman is pure fluffy crack and made me smile a lot

Story with the sexiest moment: none of them really. Fundamentals and some of the other TL fics have some sex allusion though.

Sweetest story of the year: I'll say Shake It Out, a teen wolf fic from early this year that I'd completely forgotten about. What's sweeter than breaking into your school at night for a date?

“Holy crap that’s wrong even for you!” story: dito on not doing scandalous, but for angst then maybe this fic where I give Dani my caffeine sickness

Hardest story to write: Past and Present Now Embrace, for sure took the longest, with me working on it for over a year. I wanted to get it up before the Sun and the Star came out but that didn't happen.

Biggest disappointment: Not any published fic in particular but I have a lot of drafts I wish had been able to see the light of day this year

Biggest surprise: the community I feel like I've found this year, especially within Ted Lasso. Doing these tag games, trading asks and ideas with other writers, is something I've never gotten to do before and I feel so lucky and grateful for my mutuals.

Speaking of... @orbitalpirate @mearpsdyke @manwholovescabins sorry if any of you have already been tagged

[smileymoth]

@pikslasrce tagged me to post my top albums from this year :))

senses fail - still searching // armor for sleep - what to do when you are dead // senses fail -let it enfold you hollywood undead - hotel kalifornia // boysnightout - make yourself sick // wilbur soot - your city gave me asthma alesana - the emptiness // bedwetters - meet the f@cking bedwetters // bring me the horizon - sempiternal

do not ask me how many times i've listened to these 9 albums idon't even know myself. it's way too much though. i couldn't put all 4 boysnightout albums here so i just stayed at 1 and put it in the very middle because they altered my brain chemistry <33

senses fail gets 2 albums because i didnt spend weeks only listening to those 2 albums for no reason... their lyrics mean sm to me i want to illustrate the albums or songs one day. this goes for both senses fail and boysnightout btw. AND armor for sleep. there's something about that specific album. i realised i really enjoy albums that tell a story. and the fact that i like themes of angst love blood betrayal etc etc is no surprise either. car underwater got played way too many times

i discovered bedwetters thanks to eurovision, they were one of the options for estonia and i ofc found their old and only album (they released a new one a few weeks ago tho) (i dont know why they have 2 spotify accounts. im not asking). i even got to see them live bc they gave a free concert during summer <33333333 i got a picture with the band too !!!!! so cool

the new hollywood undead album got me back into them so im back to being obsessed. i love my silly california guys :3 i've been keeping up with them since and i desperately need to draw them again, this time without their masks!!!! im very glad that i found alesana to be sooo palatable this year because ive tried to listen to them before when i was a teenager and it just... didn't click, even if i tired. so yeah i get to fix that mistake now.

in spring i had a moment where i listened to sempiternal on repeat on the cd player for multiple days straight and in the past month i've, again, been listening to bmth and specifically sempiternal again so it gets a special place, too.

wilbur is just there because i had jubilee line stuck in my head so so so so much and also it's the best study music ever. also wilbur why is i'm sorry boris so silent. i can barely hear it it makes me angry so i always skip it. and then bc its the end of the album it gives me some lmanburg flag cover-art song that i don't like

anyway here's a special mention to these 3 albums because 1) greeley estates - caveat emptor, i just discovered it this week and i am in love. also greeley estates has been in my radar for quite some time now and i find the singers voice to be very pleasant and interesting? the tone does sth for me 2) brand new - deja entendu, for being stuck in my head for a good week because the tommy gun song wouldn't leave my head since it came on shuffle from my saved mp3 list when net was down 3) just surrender - if these streets could talk, because again i was obsessing over this for like a good week before i forgot about it. good album. not available in serbia tho for some reason

can you tell i love talking about music that i like. i know nothing about music it just makes me happy. :)

anyway i am tagging uhhhh @varteeny1234 and @complicatedsurgery and uhhh @cactusringed and uhhhh anyone else who wants + i'm not gona tag you, sly, because you only listen to alex g anyway <3

[pebblysand]

Helloo

So i just finished reading that ask about Harry as a wizard-cop, and i totally needed to read that. Like two days ago a friend told me she stopped reading HP when she found out that Harry wanted to be a cop (yeah she's dramatic like that, i love her). We talked about it a bit, and, like i always say to my friends "Yeah, JKR sucks, but fanfiction is awesome!" . And i remember mentioning castles to her, and one part that i can't find right now, it was very short, and it was harry working as part of the crowd-control team of people manifesting (is that how you say it?), he was in disguise i think (was that in castles? man! i read a lot of things at the same time and get confused ). And THAT was when the "WOW he's a cop" really sunk in, because, well i've been on the other side of that hittin-stick when i was a teenager (what's the name of that stick? you know, the stick that cops use to hit people) and well, i sort of wanted to burn all of my HP books after that (i didn't of course🫣).

Anyway i don't think i've ever read a canon compliant fic that adressed Harry's carreer choice the way you do, which i find sooo interesting and necessary. I have (i hope) grown up a bit since a was 16, and talked to a few cops (yeah teenage me is 😲), and some of them really start working in the police because they genuinely want to help. I didn't know what to say, because that's the same person who hits teenagers manifesting for more founds to public schooling, but also rescued a friend's mom from a violent relationship, which is, you know, a really good thing. I devoured those parts, when you describe this internal moral fight Harry has and the way he also grows up, from wanting to be an auror to "catch the bad guys", like a videogame, to facing all these dilemmas with it being a part of a goverment, with laws, regulations and obligations. Pffffff can you imagine dear Harry James following all those RULESSS?

ok so i've talked enough, love all your work!! i hope some of this makes sense lol. Have a great week!!

oh, i'm so glad you resonated with that! obviously, i have a lot of thoughts!

so, yes, that is in castles! it's chapter 11 after Kingsley's Ministry grants are handed out, thanks to the Blair loan:

Officially (and, for what it’s worth, even knowing his own feelings towards Kingsley, Harry honestly believes him on that one), most of the recovery grants were distributed to a selection of wizarding businesses deemed to have suffered the largest losses during the war. Applications were submitted in the month that followed the passing of the bill and the list of successful applications was compiled by Ministry staff on the basis of a complex matrix including the difference between pre-war and post-war turnovers, expenses incurred to repair the sometimes extensive damages suffered within the premises, the viability of their recovery plans, etc. It all sounded good - at least on paper. In actual fact, this thorough assessment led to an overwhelming number of grants being awarded to businesses owned by people generally known to have been on Kingsley and the Order’s so-called “side,” during the war. 

The moment the allocation decisions were made public, a wave of disgruntled Knockturn Alley shop owners found their way into the many offices of different press outlets across the country, soon expressing their innumerable grievances, and less-than-favourable opinions of the current government which, according to them, was operating under unconscionable biases. At the Burrow, this strategy enraged George (and, in her correspondence, Ginny, who’d spent hours with he and Ron going over Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’ accounting and writing their application) who slammed The Prophet against the kitchen table and expressed what sounded like a rather fair point: ‘Their bloody shops weren’t torched, were they?’ 

In response to this latest wave of criticism, the Head of Kingsley’s new Money Matters Department, Bernardus Dee-Poquets, gave a rather unfortunate interview on Radio 5, attempting to ‘give more context’ on the decisions made. Instead of smoothing things over, this position only further enraged the opposition, prompting a spontaneous protest to take place in Knockturn Alley with placards that read: WE DON’T NEED CONTEXT WE NEED GALLEONS! (which, frankly, Harry also couldn’t help but think was a fair point). 

He and the other Aurors were soon called in for ‘crowd control,’ an idea that began sounding terrible as soon as they were asked to put on their riot gear. On the way there, Robards added fuel to the fire by making it abundantly clear to whoever was willing to listen that this ‘peacekeeping’ operation had been forced upon him by the Head of the DMLE and was neither his choice, nor his idea, which in turn meant that no one in the Auror ranks actually wanted to go in. That day, Harry’s afternoon began with their unit chief whispering in his ear to make his hair blond and hide his scar with make-up again, ‘just-in-case,’ and ended with incapacitating shots being fired from all sides, fumigation potions thrown at a mob they’d kettled in on Burke Street, and a spell that sliced Harry’s arm open, landing him in the mediwizards’ tent for the second time in less than six months. Until he regained the full use of his fingers a couple days later, the letters he wrote to Ginny looked like they had been drafted by a six year old child. 

Since then, most of the office has been reluctant to do - well - anything beyond the bare minimum, doing nothing to help Robards’ staffing problems. Half the Aurors on Harry’s floor have now repeatedly called in sick for a few days at a time with increasingly more outrageous excuses ranging from ‘sleepiness,’ to ‘dragon pox,’ and even once: ‘wandrot’ - a wizarding disease that Harry unfortunately decided to ask about at lunchtime in the middle of the trainees’ table. Katie Bell almost choked on a piece of broccoli and Ron’s whole face turned scarlet. The resulting explanation made Harry feel irrationally protective of the most intimate parts of his body for the rest of the afternoon. 

---

and, like, yeah, it's funny, but it's also - not, you know? i think i want this moment to sound like a "fun" anecdote but i think it also feeds into what i was saying in the original post, about the post-war low-level "crime" that feels somewhat endemic and unsolvable. here, of course, it's knockturn alley shop owners, which i suppose we all don't have much sympathy for, but perhaps, we should? the thing about the post-war wizarding economy is that it's full of petty crime and black market stuff and disgruntled demonstrations - because these people have spent years trying to survive and make a living under the hold of an authoritative government, and now not only is democracy not really bringing in money, but it's also preventing them from operating the way they used to. and even if it's nothing at scale, i think the endlessness of it kind of wears down your morale, as a ministry employee.

as you very rightly say, i think most people who join police forces aren't horrible people. like, sure, a percentage of them just wants to beat people up and get paid to do it, but that's not the majority. i think for the most part, there's a lot of big-eyed kids like harry who just want to "save" people. and then, you get called in to these ops and you start realising that "crowd control" is a scam and that putting people in jail is a bit pointless when what is being held against them is just trying to survive and feeding their families. and, of course, there's also multiple aspects to this, because they also sometimes do intervene in stuff that is useful like domestics and stuff (although, there's this whole thing about how police often doesn't believe women, but that's a whole different debate). so, i think, with harry's "early" time at the ministry, i wanted to show the different layers to that.

and, it's funny cause i expected to get a lot of angry comments about harry becoming a hit wizard because of the sort of violence that is associated with those kinds of departments, but i actually didn't. i think the above is sort of the reason why he joins though. it's like: he wants to save people, and that's what they do. their operations are big enough, it's never petty crime, they have a lead (hawk) who knows what he's doing and who can make difficult decisions, and they get in, intervene, and get out. it's not about fighting disgruntled shop owners, you know? or pointless trafficking of magical objects. and, it’s also not detective-like investigative work which, frankly, i don’t think he has much patience or focus for. especially, feeling kind of like a nameless cog in the investigative machine. to me, the hit wizards was the only way to make auror!harry work within the "reality" of what the police force is.

(i think that stick is called a "baton?" i know the term to "baton charge". english speakers - please confirm 😆. in french, it's a matraque.)

but anyway, thank you so much for your kind words, i'm so glad you enjoyed those parts. i have a lot more in store for harry-as-an-auror throughout the fic, so it's lovely to see people enjoy it!

[oliviaischillin1204]

He Ollie! It's Cef. You might remember me. I just wanted to say hi and that I hope you are doing well. I still love that you are posting t-fics left and right! I miss you all very much! The reason I left the community was because I finally found some meds that work really well for me, except I almost completely lost my love of tickling. I can't really explain it because I have the same reaction as any other regular person now but I do miss everyone here. I just hope you all are doing well still.

-Cef

cef!!! of freaking COURSE i remember you, you're one of the OG sasi tfic blogs i ever followed!!! (right behind august and dani, right before spikey, pineapple, and felix dfhfdjsk) i actually just recently was thinking about your blog and your writing!

(confession time: i've mentioned before i had a private tfic account before starting this one, and on that tfic account i still have like, TONS of old posts/fics/art that i've reblogged from 3-7 years ago. some of it i can't access if it's behind a readmore and the op has deactivated, but if it's not behind a readmore, i can still read it so..... yeah i have a collection of extremely 2017-2019 sasi t-word posts that would maybe shock the OPs if they knew about it lol)

((and cef, i actually have an old masterpost of urs saved there, i think most of the links are unreachable now since you've deactivated, but it also has 2 links to freaking,,, google doc self insert teases from logan and roman that i just reread recently LMAOOOOOOOO. so yes, of course of COURSE i remember you and the impact u had on my writing and life :3))

and yeah, i still try to stay active around here, even when my tfic writing isn't coming as easy as it used it. it's crazy that u say that abt ur meds bc lowkey that kinda happened to me too... i started antidepressants for the first time last may (almost a year?? holy shit) and although i had been having writer's block for about 3 months prior to starting those meds, i can honestly say that yeah, the meds did change my brain chemicals a lot, to the point where tickling fell wayyyyyy to the backburner of my mind lol. coupled w how busy i've been for the past... solid year lmfao and this blog just hasn't been able to be a priority like it used to be

HOWEVER, not to get any hopes up or anything, but within the last month i have had a p extreme resurgence of thinking about t-word stuff often, rereading old favorites, going through the tags, etc. and i am graduating college (!!!) in less than a month so..... mayhaps. MAYHAPS. there may be more writing coming from me somewhat soon. WHO KNOWS SJDHFGHDJ

but i digress!!! cef, it was really good to hear from you and know you're doing well. when i saw your blog was deactivated, i was surprised but i understand why u did it, and i'm glad to know u remember all those years on here as fondly as i do :3