#this is not ragging on people who reblog. especially not those reblogging with tags

[lavenoon]

reblog art, goddamnit

[ladykailitha]

Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate Part 3

Here we are at the last chapter. Thank you for everyone who liked, commented and reblogged, especially those that left lovely comments in their tags.

This isn't the last we'll see of this universe, as the next one I want to do is Christmas. Steve talking to Jonathan about the camera and not just saying it was joint present from him and Nancy.

In this we have some people who just never learn, Eddie getting heart-eyes non-stop now, and the basketball game of the century.

Part 1 Part 2

~

Larry Wiggins learned nothing from getting decked in the face by Eddie Munson, Steve decided. He had been the worst of the “accidental” bullies.

If there was a massive collusion of some poor bastards, you could make a pretty safe bet that Larry was seen leaving the area. The teachers turned a blind eye to it because and he quotes, “You have no proof he’s doing anything wrong, besides as captain of the basketball team, he’s afforded a little grace because he’s under soooo much pressure.”

Steve was pretty sure he threw up a little in his mouth when he heard that from the principal, the vice principal, the basketball coach, and at least three other teachers despite him doing it right in front of them multiple times.

So just before the winter break it all came to a head and if Steve was honest, he wasn’t surprised when he saw the victim was one of Eddie’s own sheep.

Steve had really needed to pee in history class. It was horrible, but Mrs. Click adored him and let him go to the bathroom, then immediately turned around and told a girl that is she wasn’t on the rag, she had no need to use the bathroom until after class.

He felt bad about that one, because unlike students, Steve couldn’t do jack shit about the teachers. Not without losing whatever status he actually had.

He pushed open the doors to the boys’ bathroom and instantly sagged against the doorway. There cowering in the corner was one of Eddie’s freaks. He had curly brown hair and blue eyes, though one was shut from a reddening welt that no doubt would turn into a black eye later.

Then the bell rang and students came flooding out of their classes, just in time to see Steve dragging Larry out of the bathroom and throwing him against the lockers across from the bathroom.

Before anyone could protest Steve’s over-reaction, the little freshman came limping out of the bathroom.

“Gareth!” Eddie called out and Steve was distracted for a moment by the sound, let Larry out of his grasp.

But instead of taking off like what would have been the smart thing, Larry pushed Steve off of him.

“You would take the side of the little pervert, Harrington,” he sneered. “I caught this little freak checking under the bathroom stalls. No doubt he’s a fag looking for dick to ogle.”

Gareth opened his mouth to protest, but Steve held up his hand.

“Or, he could be,” Steve scoffed, “and get this, looking to make sure no one was in the stalls so he go into the one he wanted? Like a normal person?”

Eddie and Gareth both snorted at the ‘normal’ description, but wisely kept their mouths shut.

Larry rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “You think you’re so hot, don’t you? You’re not even a senior but everyone around here walks around here kissing your ass and why? Because Daddy’s money. If you were as poor as these chucklefucks, the only kiss you’d be getting is mouth to mouth when someone finally put you down like the dog you are!”

Gareth threw back his head and laughed. Just started laughing and laughing, doubling over from the laughter, tears streaming down his face.

Larry raised an eyebrow. “What the fuck is his problem?”

“His dad owns three of this town’s car dealerships, dude,” Steve said raising both eyebrows. “Like he lives in Loch Nora.”

Larry’s eyes go wide. “What the fuck? Then why is he dressed like trailer trash?”

“Hey!” Eddie growled and moved to take a swing at the guy, but again Steve held up his hand.

“Dude is in designer jeans and high tops and you have to ask that?” he shook his head. “You really are stupid. How did you become captain of the basketball team again?”

Steve tapped his lip for a moment, his other hand on his hip. Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s right, you mom blew the coach!”

Larry lunged forward to take a swing at Steve but Tommy and one of the other guys on the team managed to pull him back.

“You want to put your money where your mouth is punk?!” Larry shouted, trying to get out of his restraints.

Steve looked him up and down. “You’re on. One on one in the outdoor basketball court. First one to twenty points wins. We need an unbiased ref...” he looked around until he found a black sophomore standing off the side. “You, you tried out for JV this year, right?”

The kid pointed to himself and looked around but Steve nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t make it, but yeah I play.”

Steve turned to Larry. “That okay with you?”

Larry nodded. “If I win, you quit the team and stop this fucking crusade you’re on.”

The crowd oohed and ahhed.

“And if I win,” Steve said with a knowing smirk, “you step down as captain and make me captain instead. And if you lay a single finger on anyone again, and you know what I mean, I’ll be sure to spill every dirty secret you ever uttered in the locker room. Don’t think that I won’t.”

Larry gulped heavily. The sound loud in the now dead silent hallway.

Steve stuck out his hand and Larry eyed it for a moment. He looked up into Steve’s steely gaze, then at the gathered crowd. He shook the offered hand and pumped it once.

“Saturday 10am,” Steve said with a grin. Larry nodded and Steve walked over to the kid who was going to be their ref and slung an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, kid, what’s your name?”

“Patrick,” the kid mumbled shyly.

“Well, Patrick,” he said, leading him away from the crowd, “the team will be down one player regardless of what happens, you should try out again.”

Everyone is left staring in shock as the two boys walk away talking about basketball.

Nancy, who had been watching the whole thing turned to Tina, “So that was hot, right?”

Tina just nodded, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She fanned herself with her hand and shook her head. “Girl, you fucked up when you let that one get away.”

Nancy bit her lip, but privately agreed. It had been a month, and Jonathan still wasn’t biting. Perhaps...

Perhaps she might have another, tastier option.

~

The bullying full on stopped as the whole school held their breath. Even the teacher had noticed the whispering in the hall, but time and time again, students would refuse to say why. The nerds sided with Eddie and his club, the popular kids sided with Steve, and everyone one else but the bullies wanted to keep out of it.

When the teachers finally reached out to the kids who were doing the bullying, therefore proving to the whole school the teachers knew, but didn’t care, the bullies had been forced into silence or admit to the bullying.

The morning dawn bright and clear. The frost clung to the windows of the school and a couple of the basketball teammates arrived at nine to shovel the outdoor court as it had snowed the night before.

Steve showed up with longjohns under his shorts and a sweat shirt with the team logo on the front. He stood there, basketball propped on his hip as he waited for Larry to arrive. He was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, headband over his eyes.

10:01am.

Patrick came running up the court waving a whistle. “Sorry I’m late! I couldn’t find my whistle and had to go to the store to get another one.”

Larry grumbled, but Steve just threw Patrick the ball.

Larry and Steve stepped up to the middle line and Patrick stood between them with the ball. The two players shook hands and then Patrick threw it in the air.

Larry got the ball first, but in the end didn’t even matter.

Steve was far and away the better player. Whether Larry’s mom had done favors for the coach to make him captain was irrelevant. Because it soon became clear that he had only gotten the post due to some kind of favoritism.

Steve outmatched him on defense and was the better shot, making more of his shots than he missed.

Larry started panting halfway through as Steve outmatched in a different and just as vital way. Stamina.

Kids from all the cliques were pressed against the fence. Nancy in the front, cheering loudly for Steve along side all of his friends.

Tommy H. was shouting obscenities and Carol was calling Larry names.

But there was the silent section who had come out to watch. The one whose very lives depended on the outcome of the game.

You could call it hyperbole, but Eddie didn’t. It was apt. In those few scant weeks of not having his friends bullied, his grades actually fucking went up. Because he could concentrate on homework, instead of if tomorrow was going to be the day one of the bullies went too far and he lost one of sheep.

He still called out the bullying when he saw it, but now knowing that there were other people watching his sheep too? He could actually rest.

And if that was happening to him? He couldn’t dare to image what it was like for the kids who were being actively bullied. That first breath of relief knowing it wasn’t just a one time thing. That it was going to keep happening. That they were going to be able to just function. Must have felt like a god damned miracle.

Steve moved past Larry and slamdunked his final two points making it to twenty.

Larry sank to his knees as Patrick ran out on the court. “With a score of twenty to fourteen, Steve Harrington wins!”

He raised Steve’s hand over his head like a prize fighter. The gathered crowd roared to life, even those who had been watching silently at the other end of the court. The ones who didn’t understand what a layup was or how fouling worked. They began cheering too.

Steve walked over to Larry and got down on one knee, draping his arm over the other knee. “Some people are bullies because their home life is shit, some people are bullies because they don’t know how to be anything else. And some people just like you who are just fucking assholes who like make others miserable. Get the fuck off my court.”

He stood back up and waved at the crowd.

~

Steve managed to find an unlocked door and slipped into the locker room for a well earned shower. He still would have to put his gross clothes back on but at least he wouldn’t be dripping in sweat.

He heard the door open and close but decided to ignore it. Whether it was a well wisher or one of Larry’s ilk, he didn’t give a shit. He just wanted to be clean.

“Steve?” a warm and very welcome voice echoed through the empty chamber.

“Eddie?” he called back, poking his head out the shower stall to see him.

Eddie grinned. “There you are, big boy.”

Steve was grateful for the steam already painting his cheeks red so that Eddie wouldn’t see him blush.

“Hey,” he muttered softly.

Eddie came bounding up to him with a big grin on his face. “I went home and brought my PE clothes for ya so you didn’t have to put that sweaty shit back on.” He held up his bag. “We’re about the same size in everything but thighs, so this should get you home at the very least.”

“Oh you’re a lifesaver!” he breathed. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, I wanted to.”

Steve pointed down at his sudsy body. “Just let me finish washing down and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

A few minutes later he shut off the water and called out, “Hey can you grab me a towel?”

“I could...” Eddie teased, “but then I’d miss the show of you waddling naked to grab one yourself.”

Steve’s eyebrows went up. “I wasn’t sure you’d be interested, after all the ball was in your court after your impromptu marriage proposal.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly and stalked over the low wall that separated the showers from the rest of the locker room. He looked Steve up and down, noting the high blush on his cheeks that had nothing to due with the heat. Or at least not the heat of the shower. Steve pushed his hair back and looked Eddie right in the eye.

Eddie smiled and reached out with one finger to trace a water droplet that had slid off of Steve’s collar bone to run for his belly button. Steve’s breath hitched as Eddie licked the water off his finger.

“I’m more than interested,” he murmured, leaning in close. “Just wasn’t sure if the offer was made in jest or if you were serious.”

Steve closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Then he opened them slowly to see Eddie with his eyes wide and expression hopeful. Steve leaned in and pressed his lips to the other boy’s. It was soft and it was sweet.

Eddie leaned back, blinking. “So yeah, definitely serious then. So how about this, sweetheart, why don’t you get dressed in the things I brought you and you go home and get changed. Then I pick you up around, say... five for dinner at the diner?”

Steve’s face transformed with his smile. “I’d say that sounds like a date.” He kissed him again. Just as soft and just as sweet as the one before.

“I’m going to get cavities if you keep that up,” Eddie teased, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Steve asked tilting his head in confusion.

Eddie came back to locker room. “Getting you a towel, obviously. As much as I wouldn’t mind a sneaky peek, I think I’d rather wait to see you naked, spread out underneath me.”

Steve’s jaw worked up and down but no words came out.

“Catch you later, big boy!” Eddie called out over his shoulder after handing the towel to him.

As he was leaving he bumped into Nancy.

“Oh sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t see you there.”

Nancy chewed on her bottom lip. “Is Steve in there? I couldn’t find him after the game.”

“Yep!” he replied popping the P. “I brought him some clothes he could change into.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh!”

“Catch you around, Wheeler,” Eddie said giving her a salute.

As the door swung shut, she could see Steve in there happily singing a love song as he got dressed.

Nancy looked back at Eddie’s retreating form and then back at the now closed door. She sighed. She had a feeling that she was too late in getting Steve back.

He had moved on.

She blushed and ducked her head. Maybe it was a good thing. She needed to work on herself and Steve needed someone who was with him because they wanted to be and not just because he was the current available option.

By the time Steve came back out, she was gone.

~

Tag List: COMPLETED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @gringa-rae-jepsen @bluelightsinthevoid @mamafaithful @allmyworldsendwithtears @xxbottlecapx

10- @sadisticaltarts @yeahhhh-suga @ohimamarigold @imamixofeverthing @samsoble

[genericpuff]

in the wake of LO ending, especially over the next three weeks as the FP updates become free, this is your public service reminder from a fellow anti that you should be following tumblr / fandom etiquette and keeping antiLO/critical LO posts to their respective tags (#antiloreolympus , #antilo, #locritical, #loreolympuscritical) as best as you can

yes, it's our own responsibility to curate our online experiences by following the accounts we like and blocking the accounts we don't, and using the general search bar on tumblr absolutely opens you up to the inevitable risk of seeing something you don't wanna see, but we as the critical side of the fandom should be doing what we can to make it easier for people to curate by labelling our criticisms / shitposts / etc. about LO with the correct tags ! this ensures that if someone doesn't want to see anti/critical stuff, they can do their part to block those tags and don't have to worry about it leaking into the general tags. I don't think it's that big of a reach to expect that general fandom tags will contain content from, y'know... people who are still genuine fans and not talking shit LOL

And yes, this is why you will not see me ever using the general loreolympus tags when posting my own critical essays or Rekindled. Obviously what you decide to tag your stuff with is on you, but I'm gonna ask y'all to please remember NOT to use general loreolympus tags when reblogging my stuff!! that's not to say my content is entirely off-limits to fans of the comic (we actually do have people in the Rekindled community who enjoy both!), but what I do here obviously isn't tailored specifically to general fans of the comic and the general LO tags are what those fans are using to find content from other fans, not hyper-driven maniacal anti's like myself ╭( ･ㅂ･)و

Just because it's no longer an unpopular opinion to rag on LO doesn't mean our slice of the fandom is now the whole pie. It's easy to think when you spend so much time in the critical part of the fandom that LO is somehow "dead" but like, there is still very much a dedicated fanbase to this comic and it still has some of the highest stats on the platform. We can't in good faith complain about fans coming into our spaces complaining about criticism existing if we're not gonna follow the rules of etiquette and label our stuff properly. And hey, at the very least if we properly tag things and they still find it from journeying into the anti/critical tags, then that's on them at that point. We don't have to take that "stop being such a meanie to two-time-Eisner-winning NYT bestselling creator Rachel Smythe" shtick from anyone, but we do gotta be willing to respect the lines that are drawn in the sand so that we don't tear each other apart over this dumbass webcomic LOL

[thetravelerwrites]

Ynghadin (Part 2)

Rating: Mature Relationship: Female Elf/Male Minotaur Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Interspecies Romance, Reader Insert, Minotaur, Manhwa Tropes Content Warnings: Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Kidnapping, Death, Murder, Abduction Words: 4651

Ten years after the son of her would-be savior escapes from Marcus's guild, the reader is discovered by a battalion of knights, led by a minotaur lord said to be related to Yngan. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist The Towns (Beyond Shelter Forest)

Ten years passed as slowly as centuries.

Where Marcus had moved the guild, you weren’t sure. As soon as you got to the new place, you were put into a locked closet in the basement, which is where you stayed from that day on. Marcus was true to his word: you hadn’t seen sunlight since the day Ynghadin had escaped. You were no longer allowed to do chores or assist in caring for prisoners. The closet was too small to lay down flat in, so you stayed in a sitting or standing position almost all of the time, including when you slept. 

You didn’t speak anymore, not even to Marcus. He continued to shave your head and dress you in rags, despite the fact that no one saw you anymore, not even his most trusted men. You were like a ghost who just hadn’t died yet.

Ynghadin never came back for you. You didn’t really expect him to, but… you had hoped. Just because you remembered him didn’t mean that he remembered you. Ten years was a long time; plenty of time to forget a person, especially one who he’d only known for a few weeks. 

You whiled away the time telling yourself stories in your head, stories about what you’d do if you ever got out of the closet. You’d wear pretty clothes, eat delicious food, grow your hair long and full, and make hundreds of friends. You’d find your parents and live with them, if they were still alive. You’d learn to read and spend lots of time reading books and learning new things. Those thoughts kept you sane during the monotony of those long years and the frequent beatings from Marcus, who had begun to get drunk far more often since losing his left eye. 

One night, as you were propped up against the wall and beginning to doze, you heard a commotion from the floor above: shouting, stomping, glass shattering, things being thrown to the floor. Anxiously, you stood up and listened hard. 

The door flew open and Marcus snatched you out of it, throwing you into the same trunk that you had been delivered to this place a decade ago.

“Keep your mouth shut, bitch!” He said before slamming the lid down. You felt the trunk being lifted again, in the same way it had when you were a child, and again put on a cart, only this time, the cart took off at full speed as if being chased. 

Sure enough, you heard a distant shout from behind the cart: “Stop the cart now!” 

“Fuck off!” Marcus’s enraged voice shot back.

“Stop or I’ll break the wheels!” The distant voice yelled.

“Do it, then!” 

There was a loud, sharp THUD against the cart and it shuddered, and you tried your best to keep yourself from letting out a terrified cry. Tears of panic and pain dripped from your eyes as another THUD shook the cart, slamming your shoulder into the side of the trunk. Marcus cried out in pain and the cart turned sharply, sliding the trunk around in the back of the cart and bruising your body further. 

“Stop, you son of a bitch!” You heard the voice say, much closer this time. 

You brought your arms around your head as the violent swinging and thrashing around ceased. Marcus cried out again, only this time, the sound of it passed you and fell behind the cart. The cart finally stopped its wild progress and slowed to a halt.

“Seize him!” You heard the voice say. “Don’t kill him! He has to answer for his crimes.” 

“Yes, my Lord,” Another voice responded. 

“Search the cart,” The voice of the lord said. “The guildhouse was empty, but there was evidence that she had been there not long ago.” 

“Yes, my Lord.” 

You heard people jump up onto the cart and held your hands over your mouth, trying desperately not to make a sound. Who were these people? Why were they after Marcus? Who were they looking for? What were they going to do with you when they found you? Marcus was terrible, but at least you knew what to expect with him. These strangers were a new, terrifying threat.

You heard them discover the trunk you were locked in and fiddle with the lock, and you suppressed a scared squeak. The lock was broken, and the lid opened wide, and you kept your eyes shut tight and covered your head.

“My word,” You heard someone say. “My Lord! I’ve found a boy!” 

There was a short silence. “Is his head shaved?”

“Yes!” 

“Move, you fool!” Another person stepped up onto the cart, the weight of which shifted the entire thing, and the person stopped in front of the trunk, looking down into it. There was another silence that stretched out. You risked a peek through your fingers and saw a massive minotaur, silver in color with a black ruff around his neck and a white stripe on his nose, a look of surprise and relief on his face. He was the spitting image of Yngan. 

Shocked, you pulled your hands away from your eyes and sat up.

“Yngan?” You whispered.

His expression softened and he smiled. “No, my Lady,” He said gently. “But I am related to him. My name is Elyngar.” He knelt next to the trunk and held out his hand, though he didn’t touch you. He was dressed richly in a fine linen tunic and a nearly-new leather vest.  “Are you hungry, my Lady? Are you hurt?”

Before you could answer, you looked around yourself, fearful Marcus would pop up to hurt this savior like he had Yngan.

“You’re safe, my Lady,” This new person said, turning to point at Marcus, who was trussed up like a chicken and thrown over the back of a horse. Blood was leaking from his mouth and nose, and his good eye was swollen and bruised “He can’t hurt you now.” He turned back to you and smiled. “Are you hungry? Are you hurt?” He asked again.

After a moment’s hesitation, you nodded. 

“Come with me, my Lady,” He said, holding out his hands to help you up, just as Yngan had done ten years before. Taking his hands was natural to you, as if you’d been waiting your entire life to do so.

He lifted you into a princess carry and sat you atop a horse just as massive as he was, before vaulting on behind you, leaving the battalion of about fifteen knights that he was commanding looking on in bewilderment. You shrunk a little as they stared at you.

“I’ll be heading back to the town first,”  Elyngar said to his knights. “Finish up the raid and make sure that piece of garbage,” He nodded at Marcus, who was wiggling and trying to free himself, to no avail. “Is given proper accommodations.” Elyngar snorted. “You know what? Throw him in that trunk. Seems like a fitting method of transport.” 

“Yes, my Lord,” The battalion said in unison, and Elyngar snapped the reins, turning the horse in the opposite direction that the cart had been heading. Marcus’s muffled screams of outrage behind you were abruptly cut off as he was thrown into the trunk.

The ride back to the town was quiet, leaving you reeling from the sudden turn of events, but when you arrived, you looked around wide-eyed. You had come to the town in a trunk and left it in the same trunk, so you really hadn’t had the chance to see it. It was early evening, but the town was still bustling with activity, with people out doing their late-day errands. It was fascinating to see so many people going about their normal daily lives, smiling and happy and thriving. You wondered if you could be like them someday.

Elyngar stopped his horse in front of a large building, three stories high, and dismounted. After helping you down, he handed the reins to a stable boy and led you to the entrance. You looked up at him questioningly.

“This is an inn,” He said. “Have you ever been to a place like this?” 

You shook your head.

“Ah! A first, then,” He said with a smile. “The first of many firsts to come.” 

Inside the inn was relatively loud, since it was sundown and most people’s work was concluded for the day and the inn also seemed to serve as a tavern as well. Elyngar took your hand and led you to the counter, where an older man was at the bar, wiping it down and trying to appear busy. Elyngar began speaking to this person, though a lot of it went well over your head, but after a few moments, the man at the bar handed Elyngar a couple of keys. 

“Come now,” He said gently. “I’ve got a room for you, and they’ll send up some dinner as well. I’ve also ordered a bath and a change of clothes. Those look…” He eyed the rags in which you were dressed. “Worse for wear.” 

You allowed yourself to be led to a room, where there was a bed, a small dining table with a single chair, and a night table next to the bed. 

“I’ve brought a maid to help you,” He said. He leaned his head out of the door and called: “Clara!” 

A young woman, a faun, if you weren’t mistaken, bounced into the room, her red-brown ringlets swirling around her sweet, open face. Her classic black maid’s uniform with a bone-white apron over it was pressed and pristine.

“This is Clara,” Elyngar said. “She’s a maid from my estate and she’s quite enthusiastic. She’ll be serving you from today onward.” 

“I’m so happy to meet you at last, my Lady!” Clara said brightly. You were stunned and a bit disoriented by her reaction.

“Take good care of her, Clara,” Elyngar said as the tub of water, trencher of food, and change of clothes were brought in. “I’ll be back to check on her soon. Remember, she’s been taught not to speak to people, so if you’re met with silence, it doesn’t mean she’s upset with you. She’s just scared.”

“I understand, my Lord,” Clara said, bowing.

Wait, You thought numbly as he left. How does he know that?  

“Now,” Clara said cheerfully. “Let’s get you in the bath and all cleaned up.” 

You wrung your hands a little, unsure of what to do.

“Have… you never had a bath, my Lady?” Clara asked. 

You shook your head slowly, embarrassed. 

“Oh,” She said. “Well, that’s no trouble at all. I’ll help you, alright? First, you must undress. If that’s alright.” 

You nodded and began to peel the filthy garments from your body. Clara’s face went from curious to disgusted to horrified when she saw the scars and bruises on your body, and though she looked as if she was bursting to say something, she held her tongue. 

Clara took her time as she carefully, gently, and meticulously washed your body while feeding you food you’d never tasted before, things like grapes, apples, a hearty meat stew, and fresh bread. Fresh bread was so soft! You had no idea that the hard stuff you’d eaten for most of your life could be so soft and delicious! 

The water was nearly black when you got out of it, but for the first time, you felt… well… clean. It was an odd, unfamiliar feeling, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You felt lighter and… more squishy, in a strange way. You smelled like flowers.

Clara was unfailingly kind and gentle with you. She never pressed you to speak and always asked you simple yes or no questions. Once you were cleaned properly, she treated your wounds and bandaged them as best she could, promising that Lord Elyngar would send for a physician or a healer once you’d reached a larger city. 

The dress that had been provided for you was far too large, since malnourishment had caused you to be terribly small and thin, but Clara was a deft hand with a needle and managed to take the dress in a bit so that it was a more comfortable fit. The nightgown that had also been given to you was quite large as well, but that didn’t matter as much since it was for sleeping in, and was so soft that it felt like you were wearing clouds. The accompanying shawl was so, so warm that you imagined it had been woven from summer itself. 

A quick double-rap on the door announced Elyngar’s return.

“How is she doing?” He asked through the door.

Clara opened the door and let him in. “She’s just fine, my Lord,” She said. “All clean and well fed.” 

“Excellent. Well done, Clara,” He said, coming in to kneel in front of you. “Are you uncomfortable in any way?” 

You shook your head emphatically. 

“Good,” He held out a small bag. “I have a gift for you.” He opened the bag and held it out. “They’re biscuits. Have you had these before?” 

You shook your head again. You’d never even heard of them. 

“They’re sweet,” He said. “Try one.” 

You reached in hesitantly and pulled one out. It was round and golden brown and had a nut in the middle. You bit into it and chewed. It was crunchy and sweet and tasted like nothing you’d ever had before. Your eyes widened in delight and you covered your mouth. 

“Do you like it?” He asked with a wide grin as he watched your face light up. 

You nodded excitedly. 

“They’re all yours.” He handed the bag to you and got back to his feet, dusting off his hands. “It’s getting late, and I should leave you to rest. We have a long journey ahead of us come morning.” 

As he made to leave, you reached out and grabbed his tunic. 

“Thank you,” You said, your voice raspy. 

“It’s my pleasure, my Lady,” He said, patting your hand. “Sweet dreams.” 

Clara saw him out and closed the door behind him.

“You must be exhausted, my Lady,” Clara said, bundling you up. “Let’s get you ready to sleep.” 

You nodded and slid off the bed onto the floor, closing up the bag of cookies to save for later. As you were using your hands to sweep the dust out of the way before you laid down, Clara stopped you. 

“Um… My Lady?” Clara said. “The bed is for you.” 

Oh. You’d never slept on a bed before. You just assumed that the bed was meant for Clara. 

“Where… will you sleep?” You asked haltingly.

“I have a room right next door to you,” She said, pointing to a door that was on the opposite wall. “If you need anything, you can come right through and get me at any time. Let’s get you up on the bed, alright?” 

She helped you back to your feet and sat you on the bed, encouraging you to lay down. The bed was lumpy, but it was still far softer than the ground, where you normally slept. You lay down on it uncertainly and tried to get comfortable. 

“Good night, my Lady,” Clara said with a gentle smile as she tucked you in. She snuffed out the lamp and retired to her chambers, leaving you alone. 

You lay in the bed with your thoughts in a whirl. So much had changed in a single night. Where you were going, you weren’t sure, but it was already better than where you had been. For the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to look forward to what would happen next.

The bed was nice at first, but after a while, you realized that you couldn’t get into a comfortable position. The bed’s softness was such a foreign sensation that your body seemed to reject it. Eventually, you slipped back off the bed and lay on the ground, taking the pillow and the blanket with you. The warmth of the blanket combined with the familiarity of the floor had you asleep in mere seconds.

“My Lady?” 

Clara’s soft voice and hand on your shoulder woke you the next morning. The first rays of sunlight you’d seen in a decade filtered in through the window, and you had to shield your eyes against it.

“My Lady… why are you on the floor?” She asked. 

“I…” You started quietly. It was still difficult for you to talk to people, since the conditioning Marcus had imposed upon you was hard to shake off, but you were determined to try. “It… it’s… I’m… used to it.” 

Clara smiled, but her expression seemed quite sad. 

“I have breakfast for you, my Lady,” Clara said. “Let’s get you washed up.”

After a wash and breakfast of bread, cheese, and cold chicken, Clara helped you into the dress you’d been given, and Clara took you out to meet Elyngar. He was standing with his horse, and beyond him was a carriage.

“Ah, there you are,” He said with a smile. “Good morning, my Lady. I’ve hired a coach for your comfort, as we’ll be traveling for several weeks. It may be tedious, but I’ll try to make the trip as short and enjoyable as I can.” 

“It’s alright,” You said, trying to smile. “It’s nothing compared to the trunk.” 

Another sad expression crossed both Clara and Elyngar’s faces. 

“My Lord, may I speak with you privately for just a moment?” Clara asked.

“Of course,” He replied. He opened the door of the carriage and offered you his hand. “After you, my Lady.” 

You stepped up into the carriage and he shut the door behind you. You sat there for a few moments, plucking at your dress and arranging the skirt carefully, unsure of yourself or what to do. You were completely at a loss and at the mercy of strangers, as kind as they seemed. It was almost worth going back to the closet, because at least you knew what to do there. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world, one much bigger than you ever expected, was quite terrifying. 

The door opened again, and Clara came inside, opening the window so that you could see outside of it. Elyngar sat astride his huge horse and met your gaze with a smile. 

“If you need to take a break and stretch your legs, let me know right away, my Lady, alright?” He said to you through the window. 

You nodded. His smile widened briefly, then he called to his party to move. The carriage lurched forward, and the journey began. 

“Can you read, my Lady?” Clara asked you. When you shook your head no, she pulled out a book from her bag. “I brought this to read on my journey here. If you like, I can read it to you.” 

You felt excited and nodded fervently. Grinning, Clara opened the book and began to read aloud. You reached into a pocket of the dress where you had stashed the bag of cookies and offered some to Clara as she read.

At midday, the party stopped at a farmhouse in the woods. Clara said there was a mixed family that helped people in need and traded with travelers. Elyngar gave you the choice of staying in the carriage as they bought provisions or coming out and meeting the family, to your comfort of course, and despite your anxiousness, you jumped at the chance to experience something new. 

“My goodness, Elyngar, is this her?” Asked a human woman with greying brown hair. When Elyngar nodded, she clicked her tongue in dismay. “Oh, she’s such a wee little thing! I’ll load you down with some good fruits for her; this poor thing needs to get some weight on her before winter.” 

“I appreciate that, madam,” Elyngar said. “Where’s Declan?” 

“He’s out helping Asker chase off some interlopers,” Said the woman. “Humans seem to think that just because land isn’t developed means it’s there for the taking.” 

“Hm,” Elyngar hummed, then turned to you. “My Lady, this is Ryel, the matriarch of this little family.” 

“Little” was a matter of opinion, you supposed, as there seemed to be a small army of children and grandchildren of different races running about the place. 

“We’ll get you loaded up and ready to go in no time, Your Grace,” Ryel said. 

Elyngar nodded. “Do you have some fruits on hand at the moment? I’ll gladly pay extra.” 

“Oh, don’t you go wasting your money,” Ryel said, swatting at him. “This child needs some sugar in her system with a quickness. I’ll be right back with a basket for her.” 

Ryel trotted off and you turned to Elyngar.

“How does she know me?” You asked softly. 

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that,” Elyngar replied. “I just haven’t had a moment to sit you down and discuss it. Come with me.” 

He took you to a barn that was situated right next to the main farmhouse and had you sit down at a long table with benches on either side. 

“My Lady, your parents have sent me to find you,” Elyngar said. 

“Like Yngan,” You whispered. 

Elyngar nodded. “Yes, like Yngan. Ten years ago, Yngan had discovered your whereabouts by having one of his men infiltrate Marcus’s guild. It took four years to get the information he needed, but when he knew for certain it was you being kept there, he made a plan to lure the entire guild out of the guildhouse so that he could rescue you. Unfortunately, it seems Marcus had similar ideas and had one of his men infiltrate Yngan’s guild, which is how they knew Yngan’s plan. Yngan’s guild walked into an ambush.” 

“Because of me,” You said, shrinking in on yourself. 

“No!” He said, reaching out to take your hands. “Not at all, my Lady. This is not your fault.” He heaved a sigh. “Did Marcus ever mention your parents? Did he talk about them to you at all?” 

You nodded. “He said they sold me to him for two pints of beer and some tobacco.” 

Elyngar scoffed in disgust. “No… no, my Lady. That’s not the truth at all.” 

“It’s not?” 

“My Lady… You were abducted from your parents home when you were barely two years old. Marcus bribed your nanny to take you out of the manor and bring you to him. He’s kept you hidden for eighteen years in an effort to destabilize your family and have them fall out of influence. It didn’t work, of course.” 

You felt as though you had been punched in the gut. You were abducted? You hadn’t been sold? Then…

“Then… my parents loved me?” 

Elyngar released his breath slowly in a terribly sad sigh, and he cradled your face in his hand. “Yes, my Lady. Your parents loved you. They still love you. They’ve been patiently waiting all these years for you to return, praying that you’ll come home safe one day. That’s where we’re going. I’m taking you home.”

You were knocked breathless by this revelation, and you bent double, a wail of both joy and despair escaping your small body. The tears you had suppressed for all your twenty years of life came pouring out of you for the first time, and you wept in Elyngar’s lap. He held you close and patted your back, letting you release twenty years of pain and fear and sorrow. 

When you finished and sat back up, Clara was waiting there next to you with a cold towel and some water. 

“I need to oversee the acquisition of the provisions and pay the matriarch. Will you be alright for a few moments?” Elyngar asked, and you nodded. “Good. Eat and drink and take some time to calm down. Clara will help you.” He stood slowly, still holding your hands in his, and bent down. “It’s alright to be overwhelmed, my Lady. You’re doing very well. Your mother and father will be so happy to see you again.”

He released your hands and exited the barn. Clara took the seat he had just vacated, pressing the cold towel to your face. 

“Are you alright, my Lady?” She asked diffidently. 

“Yes,” You said. “I… just… didn’t know my parents were looking for me. Or, well, Yngan told me years ago, but… I didn’t really believe it.” 

“Oh, yes, it’s true,” Clara said. “They’ve got your room all set up. They’ve had it that way for years. All the dresses you never got to wear, all the toys you never got to play with, all the books you never got to read. It’s all still there, waiting for you to return. One of my primary duties is to keep that room immaculate, in case you ever came back to use it.” 

“I didn’t realize,” You said softly. 

“Yes, my Lady,” She said, taking your hands in hers and squeezing gently. “In a way, I’ve already been serving you for years now. I was so very happy to meet you at last.”

Your lip trembled as the tears began to fall again.

“Would it… be alright if… I could call you my first friend?” You asked her. 

She laughed, and tears came to her eyes as well. “More than alright, my Lady. It’s more than alright with me. Though you may make Lord Elyngar a little sad, but it’ll be our secret, my Lady.” 

She pulled you into a hug, and the two of you wept in each other’s embrace for a few minutes. After some time, she pulled back and wiped her eyes, and you did the same. 

“Oh!” She said, sniffling. “I can’t wait until the master and the madam finally get to see you again. They’ll be so proud of you.” 

“Do you think so?” You asked shyly. 

“Oh, I know so, my Lady. Now, let’s dry our tears and eat this lovely basket of fruit that Madam Ryel gave us,” She said, lifting it into her lap. “Have you ever had mangoes before? They’re positively divine.”

Two weeks passed like no time at all, and it was the happiest two weeks of your entire life. Clara was by your side every moment, and talking with her got a bit easier as time went on, though talking to others was still quite difficult. The only exception, besides Clara, was Elyngar.

Elyngar was very attentive and kept a close eye on you, making sure your every need was seen to. His care and consideration for you was as confusing as it was comforting. Why was he being so kind to you? Was it because of your parents? Who were they to him? You hadn’t had a spare moment to ask him and you were hesitant to do so, since he was busy overseeing the entire trip and barely stopped to rest, but you hoped he’d explain before you arrived at your destination.

At some point, Clara looked out of the window and became excited. 

“We’re almost there, my Lady!” She exclaimed. “We’re just outside of the city gates!”

Exhilaration and terror warred inside your body as you looked out of the same window as Clara, seeing massive walls looming overhead. 

“How long will it be before we arrive at my parents’ house?” You asked trepidatiously. 

“Oh, at least another hour,” Clara said. “But we’re going to stop at a clothing store before getting there. Your current outfit isn’t appropriate.”

You looked down at your dress in confusion. This was the nicest outfit you’d ever worn. What type of place were you going where such things were inappropriate? 

“Clara… who are my parents?” You finally asked. 

Clara hesitated. “I’m afraid I shouldn’t say. It’s something you should hear from Young Master Elyngar.” 

“But he hasn’t told me anything,” You said fretfully.

“I’ll speak to him, if you’d like.”

You nodded. “Please.”

The carriage stopped in front of a business, and Elyngar helped you out of the carriage. He had sent all but two of his knights ahead to the manor to notify your parents of your imminent arrival and to rest. Clara took Elyngar aside for a moment and spoke in a quick undertone. He nodded shortly, and the two returned. 

“Come now, my Lady,” Elyngar said. You took his hand and he escorted you into the building. 

A woman came forward to greet the two of you, bustling around Elyngar excitedly. 

“Welcome, Young Master!” She said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Ah, Iola, good to see you again,” Elyngar said, leading you forward gently. “This is a guest of mine. Please treat her courteously.” His voice was cordial, but there was a sharpness to that last sentence.

“Oh course, Your Grace,” Iola said, looking at you with curiosity and mild alarm. “What’s your name, miss?” 

You stopped short and clamped your mouth shut, embarrassed to tell her you didn’t know your own name. Up to now, Marcus had called you “bitch” and both Elyngar and Clara called you “My Lady.” 

“You may refer to her as ‘My Lady’ for now, Iola,” Elyngar said. “Her identity is not important at the moment.” 

“Of course, of course,” Iola said, bemused. “We’ll get her dress properly.” 

Clara and Iola urged you into a dressing room as Elyngar went into a waiting area to view catalogues. 

Iola brought you several dresses that looked lovely on the mannequin, but once you put them on, not only were they too large, just like every dress you’d worn up to that point, but the lace, frills, and bows looked garish on you. It all clashed with your shorn head and many scars. You looked clownish. 

“Don’t you have anything smaller?” Clara asked. 

Iola floundered a little. “I’m afraid that’s the smallest size we have for adults. Anything smaller is made to fit children, and they’ll be far too short.” 

“Can’t you put a longer skirt on a child’s bodice?”  

“We could try, certainly.” 

“Bring us the children’s dresses, then.” 

“Very well.” 

“Did you like any of the ones you saw so far, my Lady?” Clara asked. “We could find similar styles in the children’s sizes for you.”

You frowned. “I looked silly in everything.” 

“That’s not true!” Clara said. “Your style is more stately, that’s all. Elegant. Clean and dignified.” She turned back to Iola. “Do you have anything in children’s sizes that would match her courtly countenance?” 

Iola smiled. “I’m sure we do, and if we don’t, we’ll make it before you set foot outside of this establishment. Give me but a moment.” 

Iola returned with several dresses that, while too short as she said, fit your skinny frame far better than any of the previous ones. They all had long sleeves, high necklines, and lacked the lace, frills, and bows of similar gowns. They seemed a bit like mourning clothes, despite the pastel colors, but they suited you far better than the flashy frocks Iola had shown you before.

“Do you like these better, my Lady?” Iola asked. 

“Yes,” You said. “This is much better, though they are too short.” 

“We’ll lengthen them as fast as we can.” Iola sharply clapped her hands twice at her assistants waiting nearby. “Quickly, girls! To the machines!”

You chose a demure dress in a lavender color with an attached lace shawl to wear out of the store, and Iola whisked it away to be lengthened. It took a mere ten minutes for the dress to be altered, and when you were redressed in it, you felt… taller. The skirt had been tailored closer to the legs, rather than the voluminous skirts you were used to seeing, and it made you seem petite rather than just short.

You went out to the lobby, where Elyngar was waiting. He smiled when he saw you approach.

“Lovely,” He said. “It suits you. It’ll pair well with this.” From the reclining chair where he’d been sitting, he picked up a folded piece of cloth and unfurled it. It was a triangular garment that looked a bit like a shawl, only it was lighter and smaller. It was an opaque silver satin that complimented your gown, with beautiful black and teal embroidery along its edges and a fringe of delicate beads. He threw it over you and let it settle on your head.

“It’s a veil,” He said. “I thought it might make you feel a little less self-conscious until your hair grew back. Do you like it?” 

You nodded, smiling shyly, as you drew it around your face and neck. It was like a shield from the eyes of others, and you were grateful for it.

“I’m glad.” He reached out for your hand and you took it. “While your new dresses are being altered, I’d like to talk to you briefly about your parents. Would that be alright?” 

“Yes, please. I’ve been so curious.” 

Elyngar left Clara with the seamstresses to choose accessories and shoes that would compliment the new articles and led you into a small sitting room off to the side. 

“My Lady, do you know of the Grand Duke of Leonidas?” Elyngar asked slowly.

You nodded. “He’s the ruling authority over the entire area, from Dunmountain to Shoreton, isn’t he?” 

“That’s right. Most of this leg of the continent belongs to the Leonidas Duchy. How much do you know about him in particular?” 

“Only that he’s related to the king, a cousin or a half-brother, something like that. Nothing more.” 

“So you’re not aware that he and his wife have been missing their daughter and only child for nearly two decades, then?”

You blinked, and blinked again, suddenly realizing what he was telling you. From the context of both Elyngar’s and Clara’s actions up to this point, you had assumed your parents were wealthy at least, but you had no idea of their true significance. You were more than just the lost daughter of a well-off family. 

You were royalty.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[longsightmyth]

I posted 11,763 times in 2022

1,417 posts created (12%)

10,346 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@longsightmyth

@agardenandlibrary

@spaceshipkat

@rollingwiththedead

@discountalien-pancake

I tagged 3,095 of my posts in 2022

#myth rags on fba - 408 posts

#food - 241 posts

#myth rags on a court of thorns and roses - 154 posts

#myth talks truthteller - 141 posts

#myth talks wot - 128 posts

#myth rags on throne of glass - 114 posts

#myth rags on crescent city - 90 posts

#other people talk wot - 73 posts

#myth rags on the selection - 72 posts

#myth rags on tigers curse - 71 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#also weird that as a designer you’re expected to have feelings for your models. like they’re just there to do their job leave them alone

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

As a Certified US Southerner I promise y'all can use folks and y'all whenever it is useful to you, it's handy for folks to have a catchall english term that doesn't assume masculine as default (as opposed to 'you guys') or have occasionally weird connotations ('you people' 'those people'). Plus folks has one syllable less than people or parents (either alternative use) and implies a kinship, which can be nice.

Does it maybe sound silly used outside of some contexts yes, but who cares?

591 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

#4

The problem with the 'not like other girls' YA phenomenon is that the books almost inevitably go out of their way to use the ostensible differences to shame other girls while said character is basically always the epitome of what our western society desires girls to be, right down to being skinny, white, and symmetrical. Specifically in YA it is used to elevate a character who already meets society's current standards without trying, while shaming people (mostly girls) for trying.

This is specifically a problem with YA fiction, not real people who feel ostracized by societal standards and the very real enforced gender norms.

So if I, in my critical posts on YA fiction, criticize the 'not like other girls' TROPE

This is what I am criticizing

Not real people who face bullying and oppression for not conforming or feeling like what society says girls are or should be

I think I've said this before, but it's worth saying again: characters are not real people and cannot make their own decisions or feel their own feelings. An author wrote them doing or feeling these things, and unfortunately in YA fiction especially this trope is often used to shame (especially but not exclusively) girls who have to work to meet societal standards and expectations.

Real people feeling real ways is something entirely different.

880 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

#3

Much like Hollis, Bear doesn't have the sense god gave a muffin (bless his heart)

He does, however, have a big heart and a fear of rain.

His comfort hedgehog has gotten a lot of use.

1,379 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

#2

Honestly I understand kid tantrums. Like, statistically, this may very well actually be the worst thing to happen to them! They have limited life experience! They're learning!

5,431 notes - Posted July 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

brb the whole discord in an uproar at the UNCONSCIONABLE results of Mister Global 2022

95,056 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[xostrawberry-milkyox]

I posted 3,890 times in 2022

That's 1,083 more posts than 2021!

107 posts created (3%)

3,783 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gojosattoru

@smol-ackerman

@gintamajustaway

@naotarou

@tobigifs

I tagged 3,889 of my posts in 2022

#gintama - 1,783 posts

#gif - 1,312 posts

#sakata gintoki - 1,270 posts

#gintama gif - 646 posts

#kagura - 572 posts

#chainsaw man - 545 posts

#shimura shinpachi - 431 posts

#bnha - 403 posts

#yorozuya - 371 posts

#hawks - 260 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#found sources of usage in merch: vol. 59 extras/2019 comic calendar/50th-anniversary shonen jump badge (vol. 3)/vol. 58 with dvd limited ed

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

345 Official Release

Hawks was really ready to end afo's career huh.

See the full post

93 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#4

340 Official Release

I'm convinced Horikoshi likes to purposefully put Hawks next to giant characters all the time now. Just to make him look smaller (small Hawks hc's are hilarious and it's fun to tease but I still stand that him being 5'8" doesn't make him short). Horikoshi must love to tease Hawks for whatever reason.

Also parrot Hawks? I can't believe this is canon.

See the full post

124 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

#3

Chainsaw man Parallels: Yuko & Aki

See the full post

150 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

#2

Gintoki’s Ideal Type

A while back when I did a post about Gintoki as a boyfriend, one thing I briefly mentioned was his ideal type. So I just wanted to take the time to expand on that.

Sidenote: one thing I frequently see with discussions involving Gintoki and love is that he ‘just doesn’t seem like the type to settle for one person.’ I would just like to note that I think Sorachi-sensei never intended for Gintoki (or any character) to have a romantic partner in the manga.

Because an underling message in Gintama - especially in Gintoki’s case - is overcoming personal struggles. The speech he gave in his fight against Kamui really captures this. 

Gintama is also very much a manga built on family bonds and that you don’t have to be related by blood to be family. In Gintoki’s case, finding the family he never had. 

But anyway back his ideal type lol. I just wanted to show why I think it is really possible for him to find love within the Gintama universe.  

One thing Gintoki is really attracted to is someone’s smile. He tries to protect multiple characters smiles in multiple arcs. A smile is the most attractive physical trait to him.  Ketsuno Ana could be used as the template for his ideal type with his massive crush on her. Even if it is just a childish celebrity crush. 

Friendly, kind, down to earth, and always has a warm smile on her face. Even if it is for the most part a TV personality (though she is a genuinely good person) he seems to be fond of the opposite of the way he sees himself.  

He’s been looked at and treated as a demon for a majority of his life. I mean think of the people he’s close to, all of them see him as human and not a monster. Of course he’s overcome those trials, and became human in the end. Which means romantically speaking, he needs/wants someone who accepts him as he is, flaws and all.  

Falling back someone who’s kind, the man gets thrown around like a rag doll, pierced in the head, and stalked. He would really enjoy the company of someone who will sit down with him and just listen - and I mean he has done that when drunk with bartenders/shop owners. But it would be extra nice if it were a significant other.

Patience. He likes this mostly to handle Kagura and everyone else he’s close to, but doesn’t realize it’s needed to handle how he has a hard time expressing his emotions as well. 

177 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Chainsaw Man Parallels: Denji and Asa

Let's talk about the parallels between the beginning of part one and part two of chainsaw man.

Denji. A boy living under horrible circumstances and fighting just to stay alive. But even so tries to see the positive.

See the full post

418 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[t00thpasteface]

@sternenhimmel-mond i can't stress enough how important it is (and how inherently, intrinsically rewarding it'll feel) to post more original stuff. i've been trying to build a good habit of drawing my original characters and thinking more about my original world thanks to the wonderful and brilliant @ghostfacedbat sharing their own characters and worldbuilding with me, and it really does snowball into a self-driving thing because it feels so damn GOOD to say "i made this all by myself!"

and i've said it a million times, but i think it's so much more rewarding to have a smaller, closer-knit circle for your art, as opposed to constantly chasing the high of mass-market appeal. i've had several posts break the 5k, 10k, and even 15k and 20k mark, but those huge numbers mean nothing to me compared to the much smaller numbers who leave heartfelt comments, and the select few (such as yourself and my friend i tagged) who actually interact with me, hold actual conversations with me about my art, and otherwise stand out from the faceless crowd of likes and reblogs. publicity comes and goes, especially in spaces as volatile as online fandom, but those rare, genuine connections are so incredibly unspeakably valuable.

like, seriously, i must reiterate my old threat of "Don't Make Me Break Out The Elvis Essay." don't chase the high of the 636 consecutive sold-out shows at the International... it's so much healthier for you and your art to find those small, trustworthy, encouraging groups of people who will appreciate and facilitate the art you really want to make, instead of just pumping out the art the masses know you for because it gets you more clicks. the public won't care if you run yourself ragged trying to please them, but those small trusted circles will help you truly do your best work.

anyone beating themselves up over note counts on their posts, especially for smaller or tighter-knit fandoms, NEEDS to grasp that 45% of it comes from what fandom it's in to begin with and another 45% is how close your immediate circle is to the really big name blogs that blow up your activity when they rb something of yours. the remaining 10% is maybe, possibly, kind-of about how "good" (subjective) your post is and that's about it.

some fandoms go batshit feral for tiny stupid silly doodles and other ones won't even look at you unless you write better then hemingway at minimum or draw like you're the second coming of michelangelo. half of the time the deck will be stacked against you from the start; the other half of the time you can stumble ass-backwards into a 10k post without meaning or even wanting to.

all this to say do Not get wrapped up in internet numbers, as usual. most of it is kind of out of your control, and the rest of it isn't worth putting yourself through the emotional wringer over.

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Viewguide, S2

Are you interested in the long-running anti-war situation tragicomedy M*A*S*H (1972-1983), but there are simply so many asterisks and so many episodes?

Well I can’t help you with the asterisks, but nor can I help myself: I started watching all 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, and bringing back for you my viewing selections, chosen for The Qualities.

— — —

I can tell I’ve really accessed the elder millennial (& elder) demographic with my M*A*S*H posting (doing...numbers? hullo!) by, above all, the 80% consistency rating of those reblogging it also adding tags. My people. We gotta find things later.

Season 2! Absolutely, get in here, loved this one: to bits. I did swing around the order again this time, primarily to pace the Hawkeye runs himself ragged episodes—too much of that at once might cause damage, nearly did me. I am kidding: I did not avoid this. Hi broken, I'm Dad!

M*A*S*H - Season 2 Recommended sequence

2x01 ‘Divided We Stand’ - A reintroduction to the 4077th in our second season together through the psychiatric officer sent to investigate whether they’ve all gone mad out there and should be broken up. Spoiler alert: of course, and of course not.

2x02 ‘5 O’Clock Charlie’ - Every day at 5 o’clock, a North Korean pilot flies overhead and tries* to bomb the nearby ammunition dump (*tries). Just chock-a-block with bits. Fun fact: Alda’s foppy infantry drag routine probably the moment I truly fell in love with him—“That’s about it.” This too would have made a wonderful season opener honestly, but we just get two!

2x04 ‘For the Good of the Outfit’ - And now we sit down with a thump: Hawkeye & Trapper try to get the American military to take responsibility for shelling a peaceful Korean village, and learn that the Army, surprise, has no whistleblower protection. No B-plot, we’re just doing THIS.

2x05 ‘Dr. Pierce and Mr. Hyde’ - In this hurt/comfort but we nearly forgot part of it fanfiction, Hawkeye Pierce stays awake doing surgery for…possibly 48 hours if I've calculated this right, but then after that another shift, and another…oh jesus. He stays awake for something like three days, all but spare minutes of it pulling bits of metal out of chest wounds, it breaks something in him, and then for the next night & day more he continues to sleeplessly wander the camp spooking and unnerving people like an irreverent broken ghost. This is probably the best episode I’ve seen yet. Every time you hear the sound of choppers, and he just looks up from the shadowed caverns of his eyes… HUGE ohh honey! episode, and also like, ..fuck. Fuucking fuck. “Dear Harry, Who’s responsible?” I could lovingly detail every single thing that happens in this, very up to and including the warm circumstances of the little closing scene, which I ache over.

2x09 ‘Dear Dad…Three’ - That’s WRITE, it’s another letter writing episode, with a number of differently toned scenes strung together with pretty impressive balance. A tense surgery, a goofy home video that accidentally makes everyone verklempt, a perfectly absurdist staff meeting, and meanwhile: The Gang Solves Racism! Well, corrects a racist. Involves ridiculous antics don’t even worry. Ginger has the funniest part and thank god.

2x10 ‘The Sniper’ - There’s a sniper. This is a situation where this episode is so well written and edited, just sterling 25 minute story construction, that I’ve deemed it too good to be sunk by its one too many sexual assault jokes. I mean kinda makes it even more of a peak early season M*A*S*H episode, if you think about it.

2x12 ‘The Incubator’ - One of my favorites of this season to be honest! An eventual sort of Milo Minderbinder riff on byzantine and corrupt Army supply chains, in which Trapper & Hawkeye wear their dress uniforms and at one point stand in as investigative journalists asking tough questions at a military press conference—hot.

2x13 'Deal Me Out' - A wonderfully pitched antics ep, especially memorable for the deep bank of recurring guest players: Sidney Freedman, Sam Pak, and even Colonel Flagg. I have since started playing poker and it is remarkable how many elements of this exact game have already occurred. Minus the surgery.

2x11 ‘Carry On, Hawkeye’ - A flu epidemic sweeps the camp, and if the sight of people wearing masks and looking worried isn’t moving enough for you In Our Current Era, the only folks left standing as the war casualties keep coming in—Hawkeye, Margaret, Radar, and Father Mulcahy—trauma bond about it. Exquisite. I adore this one. Also another for the annals of Hawkeye shouting down the line to a superior officer about finding a husband.

2x24 'A Smattering of Intelligence' - Honestly it's not about these slipshod spies: it's because Marlene Dietrich is back in town.

2x20 ‘As You Were’ - Love that when this started I was thinking eh it was probably not making my list. A whiplash episode par excellence. Hot Take! - I think this does the kind of thing ‘Sometimes You Hear the Bullet’ wants to do better than that one actually does.

2x22 ‘George’ - A scene or two into this one, Hawkeye comments in the mess tent that one of the kids they just sewed up was really bruised, and not in a combat way, like in a someone beat him way, and I idly muse, hey, in the version where we kick it up a notch: he was beat up for being gay, and comes out to Dr. Pierce because of course he comes out to Dr. Pierce, the kind chaotic bisexual energy is palpable even behind the surgical mask, and then self-identified Aunt Hawkeye has to figure out how to save him. I would have signed a statement giving up my blog in the event were this to actually come to pass, and done so laughing. But then in the year of our lord 1974, DO YOU KNOW WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED. Good thing my mouth was healing because I yelled.

Oh, and if you’re wondering if Benjamin ‘Homoerotics’ Pierce took this network-granted opportunity to come out as straight—

no.

2x21 ‘Crisis’ - They Were All So Cold, redux, variation: There Was Only One Tent. Not quite like that, although does include Hawkeye and Trap essentially sharing a bed and as many layers of Army surplus as they can scrounge while jibber-jabbering with Klinger as he puts on cold cream and Father Mulcahy does an impromptu stand-up bit in his Loyola sweatshirt, and for this and many reasons, this one about burst my heart in warm coziness. Easily the most endearing & domestic thing this show has done to me yet. I’m compromised. Haha fuck, I’m compromised!

Season 1 • Season 2 • To be continued

#M*A*S*H hours

[prettyinpunk85]

Amor Prohibido (5/?)

Amor Prohibido

(5/?)

Pairing: Angel Reyes X Reader

Word Count: I don’t know. Who gives a shit.

Warnings: Language. Angst. Arguing. Traumatic event.

A/N: Alright this took forever, so sue me. The world has been nuts. There isn’t Angel this this, but a lot of backstory for Y/N. Please help and reblog, gracias 😘 Hopefully chapter 6 comes sooner than chapter 5 did 😑

Masterlist

Tags: @dearsamcrobae, @celestemaquilladora​, @lonelyheart75​, 

Not my gif.

5 months later

Y/N sits in the living room going through boxes of old stuff she got out of storage out of boredom. It’s all things from her childhood with her mother which she remembers very little of. When her mother was killed, she was 5. Gemma took her in and later adopted her, Jax was 7 years old then.

She pulls out some papers going through them uninterested. Nothing important really. She unfolds her own birth certificate and reads through it. She stops at the father’s name on the document and stares at it. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion and folds it back up. She grabs a stack of pictures she was looking through earlier and finds the picture. There he was, that man. He was sitting next to Y/N’s mom with his arm around her shoulder. What the fuck.

---

A couple of days later she sits across from Gemma at a local diner. She looks down at her cup of coffee thinking and then up at Gemma, “Gemma, what do you know or remember about my biological father?” Gemma looks at Y/N surprised, not expecting the random question, “Uh your father? Hmm...” Gemma takes a drink of her coffee and sets down the mug trying to think of what to say, “I don’t know him, hun. Your mother never told me who he was. It didn’t matter so I didn’t push the subject. All that mattered was that we were going to take care of you.” Shes lying. She has to be lying. Y/N nods, “Right. I don’t know...” she shrugs, “I just got to wondering about it. I’ve been home a lot and have been doing lots of thinking... Oh well. So what’s new?” Gemma sighs looking out the diner window, “Fucking Wendy. That junkie bitch is pregnant. I mean, what the fuck is Jax thinking?!” Y/N shrugs half smiling, “Sometimes he doesn’t. You know him. Well, congratulations, Grandma.” She quietly chuckles and Gemma smiles shaking her head, “Don’t patronize me, little girl.” Y/N smiles at Gemma, “Hey, lady. I’m 25 years old now.” She pays and smiles at her winking, “You’ll always be little girl to me, hun.”

They walk outside and Gemma lights a cigarette and offers it to Y/N. She shakes her head, “No, thanks Gem. I’m trying to kick all these habits. I was drinking a lot and smoking a lot. I’m just trying to be better.” Gemma looks at her a bit skeptical and nods, “Good for you, babe. I wish I had that will power.” Y/N fixes her hoodie and looks around at the people walking around, “So tell me.. What does Jax think about becoming a father?” Gemma exhales smoke and half laughs, “He hates it. I don’t think it’s really that he hates the idea. I don’t think he’s ready or in a place where this should be happening right now. I know that he thinks that this is wrong to have with Wendy because she isn’t the one.”

Y/N nods, “That really sucks for him. He’s stuck with her now.” Gemma shrugs, “I know that I’ll kill her if she gets high with my grand baby in her belly. I know that if she has this baby and then overdosed and died that it would do us all a favor. Especially that baby.” Y/N looks ahead thinking about how savage Gemma can be. She thinks about what Gemma could be capable of. The secrets she hides. How many of those had to do with Y/N? “I know that sounds harsh babe, but that girl ain’t nothing but some junkie whore. Who even knows if that’s Jackson’s baby.” Y/N always liked Wendy. She felt bad for her because of her addiction and she felt bad that Wendy always felt like she had to impress Jax. Y/N never felt the need to impress Jax and she never even tried.

 Y/N nods a bit, “He should do a paternity test for sure just to be safe..” Gemma nods, “Oh hell yeah. And you better believe that I am going to support Jax on getting 100% custody. I’ll help him raise that baby.” Y/N half smiles and hugs her, “Gemma, always so motherly. I’ll see you around, okay Grammy?” Gemma flips her off and smiles, “Fuck off, child. Bye..” Gemma watches Y/N walk away. She can’t pinpoint what is happening with Y/N yet, but she knows something isn’t right.

---

A few days later Y/N sits at a park picnic table waiting, looking around nervously. Bishop comes up to the table and sits down looking at her very skeptical, “Are we here to talk about Angel? This is very ballsy of you to request this meeting. Like you asked, I didn’t tell Alvarez or anyone else about this.” She nods and speaks quietly, her voice barely comes out, “Thank you.. I really appreciate it.. I just have some questions for you... Believe it or not this has nothing to do with Angel.. Or maybe it has everything to do with Angel... I don’t know...”

He watches her confused, “What questions?” She nods, “Your name... Your real name is Obispo Losa? They call you Bishop because Bishop is Obispo in English...” He nods, “Yes...” She clears her throat and hands him a picture to look at, “That’s Maria...” Bishop interrupts, “Maria De Los Angeles Lopez.. How in the hell do you have this picture of her and I? This picture was taken over 25 years ago.” She watches him, “That’s my mom... My real mother...”

She reaches in her purse and pulls out her birth certificate and hands it to him. He unfolds it and reads it. He looks up at her and back down at the paper. “My name is on here..  Her name is on here... And this is your birth certificate... What?” He re-reads the paper confused and looks at her, “You’re my kid??” She shrugs half smiling sad, “I don’t know anything. All I know is that I was looking through some old boxes the other day and I ran across a copy of my birth certificate and that picture.. I thought.. Well... How many Obispos are there around here and you’re in that picture...”

He swallows hard starring at the birth certificate. “She never told me... I... I didn’t know...” he looks back at the picture, rubbing it a bit with his thumb deep in thought. “ I haven’t seen this picture in so long... God she was gorgeous...”

She swallows hard watching the pain in his eyes and she quietly speaks. “What... What happened with you two?” He looks ahead at nothing really, but thinking about the past, “She broke it off with me and left. I never knew why. All I knew was that I had lost the love of my life. I thought that it was the MC life that she started to hate. Then I heard that the feds offered her a lot of money to become an informant somewhere and it got her killed.” He sighs rubbing his head, “Maybe she left me because she found out she was pregnant and didn’t want to deal with the shit in my life anymore...” He shrugs.

She watches him, “Listen, Bishop. I’m not telling you this because I want something from you. I don’t need anything. From anyone. I just... I don’t know...” She sighs, “I just want some honest answers about my life. I feel like there’s probably a lot that I don’t know. That I’ve been sheltered from. I don’t know how much Gemma has never told me.”

Bishop takes a drag from his smoke and shakes his head, “That fucking puta Gemma probably knows a whole lot that we don’t know. She kept you from me your whole life probably knowing I was your dad. Without telling me shit. Just one fucking town over. She probably put Jax up to talking Alvarez and I into keeping Angel away from you.”

She swallows hard starring at him, thinking, for what seemed liked forever, “I’m sorry, what?” Her eyes start to fill up with tears, “Jax talked you and Alvarez into keeping Angel away from me?! What the fuck?! Why would you agree to that??” She stands up looking at him, tears running down her face. He stands up shaking his head, “Look, calm down. We owed Jax a favor and we figured this was nothing...”

“Nothing?! I’ve spent so much time thinking that he played me! I even yelled at him to his face!” She sits back down on the picnic table feeling sick, starting to cry harder, “I’ve been so fucking heartbroken... I’ve had to deal with so much alone.” He sits by her and puts a hand on her shoulder, “Please don’t cry... Listen... I’m sorry... I really don’t know the whole story with you and Angel. We should have sat down and talked to him about it first. Instead... We called him in for a meeting one day and told him that he wasn’t to see you or talk to you ever again. That it was a request from Jax Teller and we owed him a favor. We never gave Angel a choice. He knew that we needed SAMCRO on our side against some cartel shit.”

She looks over at him hurt, “You didn’t know... I guess there’s just a whole lot that you don’t know. Huh, Bishop?” She stands up and wipes her eyes feeling the anger start to burn in her chest, “Ironically sometimes history repeats it’s self, huh dad? I’m pregnant. I can just leave town right now like my mom did. Then maybe 20 years from now that kid can come back to town and find Angel. And you can miss out on a grand kid just like you missed out on having a daughter. If she was sick of the MC life, my mom was right then. Have a nice life, old man.”

She gets in her car and leaves. Bishop stares at her car, watching it drive away, “Fuck...”

---

Opie works on his bike outside at his home’s driveway. Y/N walks up the driveway looking at him, “Hey Ope...” He stands up wiping his hands on a rag and hugs her, “Hey girl! I feel like I haven’t seen you in what? Two or three weeks? We’ve been worried.” Y/N looks down crossing her arms keeping a distance, “I have a question, Opie. I really need you to be nothing but honest with me.” He nods watching her, starting to feel more worried about how she’s looking. “Yeah girl, what’s up? You okay? What’s going on?” She stares at the concrete for a second and then looks up at him serious, “Did you know that Jax asked the Mayans to have Angel stay away from me?” He stares at her and swallows hard not knowing what to say.

She nods fake smiling, “Oh okay, cool. So you knew about it too.. That’s fucking great!” Opie sighs brushing his hair back, “Fuck man...” He paces a bit. “We all knew... I didn’t like it, but it was MC business so I couldn’t tell you. I tried to talk Jax out of it.” She laughs nodding, “Oh it was MC business and you couldn’t tell me, huh?” She looks him in the eyes, “What about my fucking life, Opie? This is my fucking life we’re talking about here! I’m an adult! I’m a fucking human!” She wipes her eyes, “You were like my brother... I trusted you.. You’ve hurt me so badly.. You don’t even know... I figured that you probably knew about this. I just needed to make sure.” She leaves heading over to Gemma’s house.

She sits in her car from afar until she sees Clay leave on his bike. She drives over to Gemma’s driveway and parks getting  out of her car. She walks over to the front door looking down taking a deep breath and knocks. Gemma gets the door and looks at her a bit confused, “Hey babe... Why didn’t you just come in? You okay?” Y/N looks up at Gemma half smiling, “Can we talk, please?” Gemma nods, “Yeah, come in. I’ll make some coffee.”

Y/N walks in and sits down at the kitchen table, clenching her jaw watching Gemma make coffee. “Gemma, I know that Bishop is my biological father. I know that Jax asked the Mayans to have Angel stay away from me and that everyone knew except for me. I know that my mom became an informant for the feds for the money and it got her killed. Please tell me more things about myself that I don’t know about. I’m giving you the change to be 100% honest with me and spill all the truth. No more lies and secrets.” Gemma stares down at the stove feeling a huge rock in her stomach and a lump in her throat. She turns around and walks over to the table sitting down lighting a cigarette. “Where to start...” Y/N stares at Gemma, “Start at the beginning, Gemma.”

She nods and takes a long drag, “Maria loved Bishop and he loved her right back. Since high school. They were great together, but people grow up and change. Things happen. MC things and she couldn’t take it anymore. She found out that she was pregnant with you and she wanted a better life. Not just for her, but for you. At this point your mom knew that Bishop was deep into the Mayans MC with his cousin. She had some money saved up and she left after she broke up with him. I knew some people that could help her out up north. She had a waitress job for a while that barely paid anything. A few months after she had you, she was offered an informant job for a lot of money. And she did it for 5 years. Until it got her killed.”

Gemma exhales putting the cigarette butt into the ashtray. “She had no one, but me. So I took you in, adopted you and you know the rest.” Y/N watches her, “How come you never told me about Bishop? Why didn’t you tell Bishop about me?”

Gemma looks down at the table, “I gave you a better life than he ever could have. What did he have to offer a child?” She looks up at Y/N with teary eyes. “Your mom was dead and you were my little girl. The little girl I always wanted.” Y/N swallows hard trying to hold back tears, “Who are you to have known that he couldn’t take care of me? What if he did want me? You’re so selfish!” Y/N runs out of the house getting into her car peeling out. Gemma covers her face with her hands starting to sob, feeling exhausted from keeping so many secrets and lies.

---

A week later Y/N stands on the side of a street loading the back of her SUV with some groceries. Jax sits on his motorcycle and notices her from a cross the street. He looks around and puts out his cigarette getting off of his bike. He walks over to her and clears his throat. “Hey... I haven’t seen you in so long... None of us have.. You know you really hurt Gemma. I think you’re being really unfair and ungrateful. For what? Some Mayan trash?”

She pauses and turns around and looks at him. “Get out of my life, Jax. I’ll never forgive you for what you did. What you had everyone do. For always trying to control me.” He half laughs, “Come on. Get over it. You’re making this way bigger than it is. Everything I’ve ever don’t for you is for your own good. To protect you.”

She loses her patience and yells, “It’s because you’re in love with me!” He stares at her wide eyed, “What?” She exhales, “You heard me. I’ve had time to think about it. About everything. From years and years back. You are so selfish just like Gemma. You are both willing to do whatever to get your way. Lies. Secrets. If I’m not with you then I can’t be with anyone else, right?”

He shakes his head with a nervous chuckle, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. C’mon babe, let’s talk about this more calmly. You’re agitated, relax.” He takes a couple of steps towards her and she takes a couple of steps back shaking her head. “You do what YOU want always! You won’t ever let me have a life! It needs to stop!” She takes another step back crying. Jax looks over seeing a car coming down the street driving really fast. He yells trying to grab her. “Wait! No, stop!” He’s too late to grab her and she’s hit by the car. Jax stands there breathing hard starring down wide eyed at Y/N.

[kaz3313]

Crowley is a totally very bad demon who does very demonish things. Like take care of a bunch of orphans

Inspired by one of @rainydaydecaf s text post! I wrote this in a day

Also thank you @thetimtimjr for tagging me in the post that inspired this!

( I have only seen to episode 3 so no spoilers in the tags or replies please! Thank you)

Tw: though this is mostly fluffy comedy stuff there is a sucide attempt (unsuccessfully). Also if anyone needs this tagged as anything feel free to ask as always!

(Please reblog and hope you enjoy 😊)

"Misstah Crowley are we there yet?" One of the children tugs at the demons clothes.

"I already told you; were not going anywhere. Were waiting for the storm to pass," he gently pushes the child away but he comes back to his side.

"When is the storm gonna pass then? Can it be now?"

"I don't know kid, now butt off before you're tossed into the sea," Crowley growls. At first a face of horror passes over the kid but it quickly leaves as another child pipes up.

"He won't throw you overboard, Asher, nothing to worry about," She's older than the other but no more than 14.

"I can-" Crowley begins but stops hearing one of the many infants start crying.It took him two hours to rock them all to sleep. "Oh look what you did. Now they all will wake up,". He is right as babies wake up one after another crying in confusion or empathy, as it is rather hard to tell which is which at such a young age, and Crowley desperately tries to calm down each while simultaneously answering the older children's questions.

"So whose ship is this?" A girl in rags asks, he'll have to have Aziraphale miracle her some better clothes later.

"Noah's Arch," he whispers rocking two wailing infants, twins actually.

"Is he a friend of yours?" A boy who looks as well off as she did pipes up.

"Ehhh, I met him once or twice," the meetings Crowley is referring too is when he passed the man by while tempting other people to acts of evil in his town.

"Is they're another arch?" The girl asks. A group of children has formed around some of them helping with the babies or toddlers but others just to listen to what he has to say. Odd to say the least; Crowly has definitely spoke to groups of people at a time, and many listened with such interest, but not often answer earnest questions. Much less earnest questions he's answering truthfully.

"No, no other arch," the one twin started fussing again. "Shut up," he says to the baby but instead of a harsh tone his voice is sing songish.

"Then where are all the parents at?"

"Alright enough questions, I didn't bring you on here to annoy me," Crowley hisses and more of the little ones wake up crying. Great, more to deal with.

"I'm bored,"

"I'm hungry,"

"Alright! Alright! Go-" He looks around. He could always have them mess with the animals but they could get eaten by a lion as well as get caught by Noah. No, keeping them down here is a necessity but he couldn't constantly entertain them. Then Aziraphale catches his eye. He's in the corner reading various books and scrolls he brought with him on the arch. How he could bring those instead of children Crowley will never understand (and quite frankly even though he wished to confront him about it he also didn't want to hear about the 'ineffable' or have him get fussier than the babies and run away for a century). "You see Aziraphale- Yeah, go bother him. He'll read you stories," Many of the children rushed toward the unsuspecting angel and the ones who remained Crowley could manage.

"Cr-crowley?" It is late at night, despite not needing to sleep both demon and angel are exhausted, and he doesn't expect one of the children to wake so soon. Of course he doesn't really know what to expect with kids.

"Yes," Crowley responds.Being a demon, he can see in the dark and her expression of fear is clear. "What are you doing up? It's bad enough I have to feed those little things every hour do I have to do that with you?" At that she gives a small smile.

"No, nothing like that. I just had a scary dream is all,"

"Ah, those happen," Crowley has put nightmares in many a mind before, mostly to sway them, but never in a child's.

"It was about the arch flooding cause there were too many people. It sunk to the bottom of the sea and the fish ate everyone's bones," she states her eyes wide as she recalls the fake memory.

"Morbid," Crowley replies biting his lip not sure how to comfort the child. "Arch is really sturdy though. The instructions to build this thing came straight from God so if it sinks that's on heavens hands,".

"It sank cause we're not supposed to be on here. We aren't are we?" Her voice cracks and tears start to roll down her cheeks.

"Now don't- come on sit here," he taps the place beside him and she follows his instructions. "Everything is uh, complicated to say the least. Whether you're supposed to be here or not depends on which side your looking on it from. But one thing, and the most important thing, is I wouldn't bring you on here for nothing. Like do you think I want to babysit for who knows how long while the storm of the century is outside if I didn't think it was necessary?"

"N-no, " she gives another shy smile and wipes her tears with the back of her hand. "I guess not,"

"Exactly, your obviously a smart kid. If I wasn't absolutely positive this stupid boat was going to hold I wouldn't have even tried," he says and she wraps her arms around in a hug. He pats her back not sure how else to respond.

"Thank you Mr. Crowley, that'll make my nightmares go away for sure! You're a saint!" She says chipperly and before he can correct her she skips off to bed.

"You're so very evil Crowley. What an evil deed reassuring a child," Azriphale says with a grin of his own.

"And how long have you been here? I thought you were taking to Noah and his "holy" family. Never mind, bug off angel. I'm always evil and saving this brats is against the divine plan so its evil," he reasons and the other just shakes his head reading yet again.

Feeding the kids is Crowley's least favorite parts (he had to do it at least three times! Not even Aziraphale ate that much) of the day. They were all whiny like usual only this time is 10 million times worse since they whined about not having enough food despite Crowley giving them as much as they could possibly need.

"She got more then me!" One kid yells pointing at a teen girl.

"Do you want more?" Crowley asks grabbing a piece of bread to give to him.

"Well, no but it's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair and actually this is a very small part of your life that will be fair so deal with it," Crowley snaps and the kid begins to cry. "Damn- Aziraphale!" He calls but sees the angel with his hands full as well as a toddler climbing him. He wouldn't be able to comfort the kid for a while.

"Kid, kid, listen. This is ridiculous. Just stop crying, you're fine. You're well fed and you aren't hurt and-"  Crowley leans down but the kid continues to wail.

"I need to pee," A little girl says in his ear.

"Good to know," Crowley responds.

"I need to go now!" She yells and Crowley tilts his head away from her.

"Then go; you don't need my expertise you've done it plenty of times before," she whines again, kicks his shin, and walks away.

"Timothy is hungry," a teen hands him a baby while she calms down the still crying child.

"Does, Tim Tim need food? Hmmm, little pile of squishy flesh is hungry," Crowley asks reaching for the bottle of never ending milk. The baby cooks in response then hastily drinks the milk most of it going down his chin. "What a messy Tim Tim," he states as the baby sucks the milk down as if it's the last he'll ever have. He takes out a handkerchief cleaning up the giddy baby. "Out of everyone you've got to be the happiest baby. Did you know that? Did you know that, Tim Tim," At saying this Crowley heard a voice call his name and he looks up. Azriphale just mouths the words 'what a demonic demon Crowley is'.

"I'm the scariest demon in hell," Crowley tells the kids and most of them laugh excitedly.

"R-roar then! If your a demon roar like one!" A kid calls out.

"Roar? I'm a demon not a lion! I don't roar," he states.

"How do we know your a demon then? I think your just a weird kind man!" Another kid states.

"A man couldn't all bring us on an arch with plenty of food and drink. Nobody is that kind" A kid scolds the other  " Mr. Crowley is just an embarrassed angel,"

"I'm not an angel!" But many kids already are murmuring in agreement of the severely misinformed kid. The actual angle in the room gives a small chuckle "I can turn into a snake; the one that tempted Adam and Eve!" Crowley states.

"Do it then! Snake! Snake!" The kids begin chanting the word. Crowley sighs closing his eyes and starts to form into the cold blooded creature.

"H-he a snake!" Most kids laugh in glee only a few run to Azriphale in fear. Crowley can hear a kid concerned that "Mr. Crowley got eaten by a snake". The angel is sure to reassure that Mr. Crowley did not get eaten by a snake instead he can turn into a snake. The younger ones don't exactly understand the concept and are happy to see Crowley in his usual form again.

"Only saving kids and teens huh? What about those who were on the edge of things?" An older teen guy asks while the kids eat there bread and listen to one of the other teen's stories. Besides Azriphale the charismatic storyteller has been the most help especially since in the past she had to take care of ten kids. She definitely is the most experienced.

"Not sure what you mean on the edge," Crowley replies sipping a bit of his wine.

"The day the storm came in, the same day you found me at the market, was my sister's 18 birthday," he states. Crowley doesn't say a word feeling the air thick with tension. "We were twins but my birthday was the next day...she wasn't brought here, was she?"

"...no," The teen, or rather the adult (though he still looked like a boy of maybe 16 at the most) stands up.

"Everyone is gone? My family, friends, mentors? My house, destroyed?" He asks but doesn't expect an answer. Instead he walks away, starting to go up to the deck.

"Aziraphale, one of the humans left," Crowley walks over saying in a hushed voice.

"Left?" Aziraphale questions.

"He went into the storm; seems really upset. Just check on him to make sure he doesn't get caught. I have babies to feed in a little bit so I'm asking you. And… I think you might be able to convince him to come down here," Crowley explains.

"Well alright but you owe me a lunch for this," Crowley rolls his eyes but nods agreeing to the favor.

Azriphale found the man getting pelted by rain while he stood on the edge of the ship. He didn't turn around yet he spoke at hearing the angel's footsteps.

"The world from end to end is empty and void of life. Completely wiped out except for this ship here. This ship that has a family, animals, and then about a hundred stow-away children," He says his voice monotone. Azriphale doesn't explain that many places were spared; it doesn't feel right to correct the distraught human."Do you know how many people were out there? I don't even know. But surely all those people didn't deserve death? They didn't deserve to be pushed into this raging sea and drowned when they're body tires of the condition. If God wants us dead couldn't we just be strikes down by a bolt of lightning? Why make us suffer?"

"The plan of the almighty is ineffable; even to me," Azriphale says then adds "But, against many odds, you're alive! So let's go back inside before your clothes get wetter," the human lets out a sad chuckle.

"And after? Once this passes I have no one. I'm alone in this world...God wants me dead? Was that part of the plan?"

"Well, a little bit but something plans go differently then expected especially with demonic intervention and-" Azriphale stops as he sees the human toss himself forward.

The angel's wings jut out and he swoops down to catch the spiraling human. It's an experience that sadly Azriphale has done many times. In total he's saved 1200 humans in the last century who've tried to end their life. Sometimes by spilling their poisonous drink or whispering encouraging words in their ears but only four in total has he caught. This man will most definitely be his fifth.

He reaches him grabbing on and pulling him upward. A moment later and the human would've plunged head first in the icy sea and if not killed by it  would at the very least got a concussion.

"Now, now, it is not your time," Azriphale has his arms around the other's chest and can feel him shivering from the winds whipping around them. He positions his wings to shield the fragile being from the strongest winds.

"Apparently my time is past due; God wants me dead I'm just giving him his dues," He struggles in Azriphale's grasp but his grip doesn't loosen.

"Don't talk like that, let's dry you off and-"

"My sister would take care of the neighborhood kids. She'd feed them, she  raised me and my brothers since she was ten. She taught us manners and we'd attended church every Sunday. We pray before every meal and even after. She stole from a man richer than a king with manners akin to a pig! That is her only crime and yet she's under many feet of unmerciful water dead to this cruel world! Was that fair? Should she have died, angel?"  He yells out struggling against the other.

The man-no he really is just a boy- kicks with such force that Azriphale is forced to use a miracle. He falls asleep instantly no more shouting or protesting follows. He looks so peaceful sleeping, most humans do, and the angel frowns to himself. He'd awake just as agitated as before, perhaps even more, and could potentially try to commit suicide again.

Azriphale clicks his tongue thinking of a way to stop this humans distress. He said something about a sister did he not well...another miracle is performed; this time erasing all memories of her. It definitely wasn't his best miracle but couldn't be called his worst either.

"I'm so sorry," Azriphale mumbles out but over the roaring sea no one can hear him.

"You have wings? Does Mr. Crowley have some too?" A curious child asks touching Azriphale's feathers. A toddler to his right has decided the feathers are an excellent teething device and is trying to desperately get him off.

"Yes I do," Crowley says picking up the toddler presenting him a finger instead of the feathers he could choke on.

"Can we see?" Another asks walking over to him staring at his shoulders as if she could already see them.

"Maybe," He replies. "If you all are good for dinner and go to bed on time you can see them," Cheers follow Crowley's statement.

 The baby babbles at Crowely and since no one else is around he babbles back at her. She giggles continuing 'talking' to him.

"I hear you; pretty cramped place huh? But right now you have to go to sleep; can you go to sleep?" The baby happily replies with nonsense. She's the last baby awake but it quite a stubborn one.

"Go to sleep, little talker and maybe for once I'll get a break," he sings a tuneless soft lullaby. "And with my break, I'll get to bother, Azriphale! And he'll just read his books, or eat his food, and ignore me, because he is gooooood,".

The baby closes her eyes but Crowley continues his made up song "Go to sleep, little babe, and hope we'll get off this ship that's driving me insane," he finishes with a few la la's and the baby is fast asleep.

"Papa?" A small toddler walks running into Crowley head on. He steps back before falling on his butt "Papa?" He asks again.

"Nope, not a Papa," Crowley says patting the confused child head. "Just a demon doing bad,"

"Papa!" He exclaims and Crowley sighs.

"Nope. Very disappointed you didn't get it the first time,"

"Papa!"

"Now this is a little excessive don't you think? How many times do I need to say no?" Crowley asks putting his hands on his hips. He might as well humor the toddler.

"Pa-pa! Papa! Papa!" He claps his hands.

"Can your Papa turn into a snake?" The boy nods. "Really? I doubt that. Can he strike fear into anything and everything?" Again he nods. "Is your dad a demon? If so I might know him,"

"Papa!" He claps again.

"Is your Papa's name Crowely?"

"Yes!"

"I don't think so," but the child giggles in response.

"What a good parent you make Crowley," Azriphale states grinning (and dare Crowley say the smile is devilish?).

"Papa!" The toddler exclaims to Azriphale and he goes bright red.

"It seems the little one doesn't have a big vocabulary,"

"So that's what it is angel?" Crowley gives his own grin. He nods in response.

Six days pass before the rain stops and the sun comes out; and just as Azriphale says a rainbow appears promising to never flood the world again.

Crowley can be thankful for that. He isn't sure he can take care of hundreds of kids again. Though with all the hugs they give him he can't complain too much.

[sui-senka]

The dumbest post

I think y’all should be here to witness the dumbest post I’ll ever make, as I’m not all about getting into discourse and that, and any other self-identifying Vergil lovers please come here:

@creepyscritches, @brasspetalsx, @fandomhell97, @breezeinmonochromenight, @kaldea88, @xalmasyx, @hornyangrybean, @noir-sorrow, @catspook, @xenontrioxide, @zilla-may-cry, @boobble, @vergilshusband, @tifaroni, @littlebluewraith, @im-a-clown, @genovaempera, @neodicronus, @thelessiknowtheworse, @thriilsy, @jestermania, @bunny-girl-sweetseek, @darka3363, @witchkiid, @45, @manadebutt, @magsamaire, @spaghetti-queerghetti, @clairexredfields, @204863-yunglynn, @yuri-subtext, @miss-soso-25, @josuke-kujo, @cameguisada, @trionfi, @glitteryhumanfiretrash, @lewdbunbun, @journalofsparda, @complacentdevil, @infernokid, @emogodmatthew, @brit-o-raptor, @salsa-and-chips, @gemstone-enema

I’d like y’all to bear witness, as I take down this bitch-ass clown. As I’ve blocked the person in question that I want to call out - please tag them into this post to have at them ;) Also - to the other people that didn’t get this, tag your mutuals and get them here.

I’d also like to announce that @thephantomporg84 is now masquerading as @derelict-stranger, and I got a few messages a few days ago about how she was gonna take down her account, and how she wants me to block all of you, which is ridiculous as you are all blogs that I have known and followed way before her and also I don’t know you either. I told her that I didn’t want to be involved in her drama, but here I am. 

It’s kinda hard for me to make this post, as I genuinely thought that she was cool in the beginning - she helped to give me more DMC asks in my inbox, and she always reblogged my stuff, as I’ve been trying to make it with the big guys - like @myfairmidnightladyspade.

But I saw the stuff that she says online to you all, and I think I got some anon messages from her asking if I was a terf or not... and yeah - my heart broke. I feel like I have been deceived in some way. What I wanted to be there was someone who was cool, and funny to talk to, but turns out that person is petty, heartless, immature and straight up spiteful.

I may have to justify myself in why I got messages from her - I was only trying to console her, but to do it in a neutral way as I wanted no part in her drama.

Also - i’m probably not gonna show any evidence for how much she sucks cause there’s tags and anon posts dedicated to that sort of thing

I want you on tumblr, and you on Reddit to find her, and in the /v/ section of 4chan to block her and report her for all she’s done. I want you to wipe her existence from the internet until there is nothing left.

Now - I need to change the flow of the conversation by directing it to you, @derelict-stranger.

I’d like you to kindly log off, take a breather and think, for a second about the actions that you’ve done to the people that I’ve mentioned above. 

I’d also like to tell you that your suggestion to block all those people above is complete nonsense. Why would you make me block blogs who have perfectly decent and awesome content, and to those who I have talked to longer than you? why would you make me block blogs who I don’t know? Quit trying to get me on your side. I want no part in your drama like I said before, and stop trying to manipulate me into getting me to give a shit about you.

I’d also like to tell you that your situation is entirely self-inflicted. That you trying to talk to me won’t work, the only reason that people are apparently “attacking you” - is because you, in fact, are the instigator, are the catalyst of all this hatred.

You - @derelict-stranger, lack any ability whatsoever to disagree well. From where I’m looking, all of this started because you don’t like Vergil from the Devil May Cry games and you don’t like the plot of 5, which seems extremely stupid to me, as he’s only a small-ish part of 1, one of the best boss-fights in 3 and just a mere mention in 4. The fact that you need to incessantly attack content creators who merely like him is stupid. Either keep those opinions to yourself, ignore them, or do my favourite -> stick ‘em up your big stupid ass.

It’s also stupid that when people merely like him - you have to bring in your own shitty opinions. No one asked you what you thought, and I’m pretty sure you’re actively seeking out fights with people just to feel good about yourself. It’s also super hypocritical of you ragging on about how much Vergil sucks, when you go crazy for Kylo Ren, as they share some similarities in terms of their vibes and traits. (Yeah - I see you asking for smutty Kylo Ren x Reader requests online.....) Why do you get pissy when people like villainous fictional characters - do your knickers

What I just want to know is what kind of personal gratification you get when you actively hate on a character, and what kind of gratification you get when just because someone disagrees with you - that you have to result using death threats, rape threats, pedophilia threats, racism, slurs, and ableism,  transphobia, alt-right rhetoric, neo-Nazi shit, pro-Trump, and homophobic comments to content creators just doin’ their own thing. Is it just to feel like the bigger man, is it to make yourself sound smarter than the other person (Cause you don’t) - like what actually motivates you, what actually makes you want to shit on other people’s parades, huh? Sounds to me like you need to get a life.

The fact that you always need to play the victim is sad and pathetic too:

- That you’re on the spectrum: - Okay, there are a lot of people who are on the spectrum here on tumblr. But they don’t use it as an excuse to justify shitty behaviour especially if it’s unitentional. as I’m sure they and the people they know are. I’m sure they apologise and try to get on with life like how NT people do. As you know - a lot of people of the spectrum feel like they’re being treated as sub-human being babies that do nothing but screech all the time, and they’re taking action to change those perceptions. Your behaviours are not helping their cause.

- That you use depression as an excuse - I’m kinda sympathetic to the whole mental health issues thing. I have them too. In fact, I am a hot mess. But I don’t use that to excuse me hurting other people with intention, and I’m sure many others don’t either. At least 1/4 or 1/3 will have some mental health issues in their life, and yeah, it sucks, and it’s common but it doesn’t make them exempt from them being called out on their shitty acts. the fact that so many people are and can be mentally ill doesn’t make you special, and it doesn’t give you a free pass to attack others.

- The fact that you try to bait people into making anti-semitic comments, so you can call them anti-semitic. Dude, that’s low. I’m pretty sure that’s gaslighting and manipulation as well. You don’t get the right to use your religion/race in that way as a defence when you’re feeling attacked so that you come off a better person. I’m friends with many jewish people, and they’d never have the gall to do that. I know that your peeople have had it rough, but you can’t use that in an argument just to prove that the other one is a piece of shit, when it is in fact you. I’m muslim, a WOC, and ancestrally speaking, from a country that your so-beloved president essentially banned their right to seek a better life in the states. For as long as I can remember - I’ve seen news about my kind being universally hated, I’ve been brought up in a post-9/11 world where for as long as I can remember that me and our kind are the enemy (so I can sympathise) - but you don’t see me and other muslims here using those petty tactics that you use, because unlike you, we’re not myopic and we know that won’t get us anywhere.

I mean, this behaviour sounds bratty and childish - so I was thinking, she’ll probably grow out of it. Then I find that you’re in you’re mid-twenties, and I think “you really haven’t grown up at all, have you?”, and honestly it just makes the behaviour worse as you are resulting to middle school/high school tactics -> especially making me block all those people, calling them sociopaths and evil bitches. This ain’t high school or Mean Girls, moron, this is a fandom. A place where people can create, share, like and comment on content that makes you happy. I don’t think you understand what that means - cause all I see, and everyone sees is you spewing hatred everywhere. Fandoms are supposed to make you feel included, feel happy, feel safe, be a place to make friends. I don’t think you know that, and I don’t think you are even smart enough to realise that you are the reason why our fandom isn’t happy.

And honestly, at this point, the hatred you are getting is well deserved. You deserve to feel like shit if all you are going to do is make others feel like shit.

I don’t know what else to say but:

1. Get the hell away from our fandom

2. Get rid of your internet connection.

3. Get a life.

4. We don’t want you here.

5. You’re scum.

6. Go suck a dick, or flick a bean, whatever gets you off you troglodyte.

I liked you man, I really did. Then I saw how you treat others, and now I know I made a dumb life choice in making friends with you. If only you weren’t such a piece of shit, we could have been good friends.

I don’t want you here on tumblr. They don’t want you here. No-one wants or needs a toxic parasite like you on this website.

Yours sincerely,

sui-senka, who just sucked Vergil’s dick yesterday, and liked it.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 81

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Mardy Bum

Summary: Alfie is dealing with Gen's condition in his own way, by being an overbearing arse. Being blind to his behavior and the problems it's causing for everyone, the women of the house decide to do something to make him improve his coping techniques. Song is Mardy Bum by The Arctic Monkeys.

Warnings/Tags: Language. References to assault and violence. PTSD. Suffering/Physical Pain. Fluff. Mad Alfie. Grumpy Alfie. Tommy Shelby. Soft Gen. Aggie getting angry. (Like a teddy bear with a knife she is.)

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.) Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

Aggie stands in the doorway and sees Alfie nodding off again while sitting up in bed. He had done this constantly the past few days, his body and mind begging for sleep, but his heart not allowing it. He wouldn’t let Genevieve out of his sight. He wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat or do anything but hold watch over her like a dragon guarding his treasure. He was scaly and red just like the comparison, his words equal to fire as his mood was poorly to understate its severity.

He kept her company through her fits in her sleep, the same cycles of active dreams, both good and bad and the latter only increasing in frequency. Every time she would become restful, he became fearful. He worried her lack of upset was a sign she was slipping away again and he’d move to hold her if he wasn’t already, waking her and causing her pain. But despite the unhealthy paranoia he was revealing in this situation, every time Gen would be awake for a few moments, she would meet his gaze and gently touch his face before resting her head back against him with a smothered sigh. Never had so little of an acknowledgment given him so much feeling.

Aggie could see the signs of him breaking, knowing he would only get worse if he kept up this grueling schedule. It wasn’t only him she was worried about. Once Gen was well enough to get up and move around, and she was hoping that today could be the day for it, she knew he wouldn’t be in any state to help her much. The lack of rest had taken its toll on his body, looking and moving like a much older man. He needed to be strong for her in all aspects. Two people falling apart simultaneously would do no good to anyone. Especially with how Gen had responded to similar trauma in the past. Aggie was worried she’d act out. Alfie would have to serve as a hand of the law and hold fast rules of the house as a man if she did. If he was weak and desperate it would only lead to trouble.

With the appearance of Tommy, Arthur, and the children in tow that morning Aggie saw her chance to get Alfie back into working order.

“Morning Agatha.” Tommy’s cool voice coasted out with a nod of his head. Claire was already distracting the children with the maids and Arthur as they led them to the nursery.

“Forgive me for not exchanging pleasantries Mr. Shelby but as you can imagine things have been terribly tense around here as of late.” Aggie's tense face tells him all he needs to know.

“I do not have to imagine it Agatha, I’ve been through it myself.” He gives her an empathetic hand to her hunched shoulder.

“Might I ask you for a favor sir? One that might make Mr. Solomons angry but I’m at the end of my rope with him truth be told.” she lets out an exhalation, a bit of pleading in her eyes.

“You would not be the first and you will not be the last.” He muses. “What do you need?”

“Mr. Solomons is being most difficult. He won’t sleep or eat or leave. We’re more than capable of caring for Genevieve here but he refuses to let anyone near her, save Claire and me. Even to us, he won’t meet our eyes. Just watches over her like some gargoyle.” She answers with clear exasperation. “I was wondering if you thought you could talk him into letting us handle her and get her out and have him get some much-needed rest? He needs to be able to function as he had been. This seclusion is doing neither of them any good. I am relieved that you showed up as I was going to try to get her to the garden today.”

“I will make no promises Agatha but I will try. He’s a most stubborn man.”

“Thank you Mr. Shelby.” She responds with a bow. “Now I’m going to go check on the children.” She dismisses herself.

As Tommy makes his way down the hall toward Gen's room, he hopes she will be in good enough shape to argue with Alfie on the point of leaving her. He knew deep down that he also wouldn’t be leaving if he were in his position. He’d be drunk off his arse and just as mad as Alfie. But he didn’t have to know that.

He opens the door slowly, finding Alfie glaring directly into his eyes from across the large, gilded room. Tommy keeps his characteristic cool and walks towards him, not breaking his attempts at defended the sleeping woman next to him. Tommy blinks once, a polite bowing out and looks to Genevieve. She did look better. Under two weeks past since the incident and her color was coming back slightly in her cheeks, the bruises not as deep but now a vast array of colors and shapes all over her body.

“She looks better.” Tommy states with a flat delivery.

Alfie says nothing, only turns to look at her himself. Did she look better? All he saw was the hand shaped bruises on her body, the marsh and sea colors growing across her skin as they healed. But only superficially. It was hard to call her better when he’s spent the last few hours holding her hands to the bed to keep her from hurting herself.

“But you look like shit, Solomons.” He says with no smirk, eyebrow set in a nonaggressive stance.

“Oi you can fuckin’... piss off mate.” His low and ragged voice growls as he points a red, splotchy hand to the door.

“Might I suggest something? From a man that’s been through this... from both sides?” He tries a gentler approach, seeing the anger in his business partners eyes that he knew was only hurt disguised.

“Fuck no. Get out with ya so called fuckin' help. I’ve got her, yeah? Don’t need your fuckin advice. Ya couldn’t keep your wife alive why would I wanna listen to you?” He spits venom and Tommy sees now what Agatha was talking about. If he was in his right mind he wouldn’t have said that, but it didn’t help the upset it made bloom in Tommy’s chest.

“Look Alfie. You acting out isn’t going to help anyone. Certainly not you yeah? And not her.” He points to Genevieve laying with a flinching face in her sleep. “You think you’re taking care of her but you’re not. You’ll break soon. Mark my words. If you keep this up. Men, those like us weren’t meant to live this way. We can’t become obsessed with the things we swear we’ll protect. There has to be a line of self-preservation.”

“‘At’s fuckin rich comin' from you, Tommy.” He scoffs.

“When she needs you, truly. Her mind and body feeling not her own, you will need to know yourself with no room for question to help her. I’ve been where she is... where she’s goin’. It’s going to be a different sort of difficult now. And you need to be on your fucking toes for it. She was a hellcat before and it will only be worse with this medicine and her head.” He keeps his words stern but even. Wanting to show his seriousness but not have Alfie pull a gun he was sure was waiting just out of sight.

“I am bloody here. Ya got eyes innit ya?”

“Agatha has told me the truth whether you will or not.” He quirks an eyebrow at the man with a brow so low and hard his eyes were almost out of sight.

“None of them know anyfing. They let this happen, why the fuck would I trust them now?”

“No one LET it happen Alfie. It just happened. You were the one who pointed out the hypocrisy to me for us to be upset over things we deserve, things that happen to men like us. This is one of those things.”

Alfie is quiet and is eerily still, staring into Tommy.

“I believe you should let her out of your sight and get some air today. I’m here, Arthur and the children. Do her a world of good to see them.”

“Why does she have to be out of my sight?”

“Because you need to fucking sleep, Alfie. You look like hell and at least one of you need to have it together. And you’re fuckin’ fallin’ apart. I say that as a friend, as someone who cares about Genny. I don’t want her being looked after by a mad man who can’t even take care of himself. You need to get your life back in order Alfie. Falling apart helps no one. I’ve fuckin' done it. Didn’t help a fucking thing.” he says with an aggravated shake of his head.

Alfie huffs and then lets out a long sigh.

“I know she’s got her little potions and that, yeah? Take one. It’ll give you a few hours. She’ll be with us. She won’t be out of anyone’s sight.”

“Why are you tryin' to put me under? How do I know you aren’t trying something ya bloody gypsies.” He mutters with narrowed eyes, showing his growing paranoia.

“Because I went after her that day too. Because I was here to support your fucking proposal. Because I helped your men burn down half the bloody city.” He replies with an expression now showing his thinning patience.

“You weren’t there. I dinnit see you do nuffin'.” He retorts purely to only be difficult.

“Take it or fucking not Alfie, I don’t care. You’re being a right pain in the arse to everyone around you and will have everyone hating you again soon if you don’t recover. So get some fucking sleep yeah?” Tommy tells with a tight jaw and clear exasperation.

“I won’t be able to fuckin' sleep without it.” He grumbles and admits. Alfie blinks slowly, still glaring. “But you betta fuckin' swear it. If ANYFING happens to her you wake me!” he says angrily. Deep down, in his not sleep deprived functioning of his brain he knew Tommy was right. He didn’t have to admit it aloud though.

Gen stirs at the raising of his voice. “Mmmph.” she lets out, brow furrowing.

“Go on and get the old birds then.” Alfie pushes towards the door to send Tommy on his way. “Mornin’, love.” he says with a tone so distinctly opposite of his words with Tommy that the other man knew at least it was love that was causing him to act so out of character.

------

He had helped her get up and bathe, her sleepy face showing an acute lack of reaction to her environment that left him uneasy. But he knew the medicine was still in her system, her not having grown a resistance to the dose. He sends her off with her freshly washed hair and in a new gown before doing as he did her, and try to take care of himself. He takes a short bath, a quick scrub in all the ripe places before pulling on a loose shirt and trousers to lie down in, just in case he was needed he’d already be dressed.

Alfie begrudgingly takes the tonic. Not even a full dose, just enough to let his mind shut up long enough for him to get to sleep. Tommy had only convinced him because, despite his onerous behavior, he knew he was right. Alfie wasn’t above taking advice when it came from someone who knew what they were talking about. He knew Tommy most certainly knew the situation he and Genevieve found themselves in. As he lay alone in the dim light and quiet hush of the room, behind the closed ornate door to the bedroom, he finally allowed himself to exhale. With a face that still said, piss off despite being alone, his deep crows feet, the rolling hills of his forehead and brow settle as he shuts his eyes. He should’ve expected the dreams to find him as they did. All bad, all bloody and bitter. There are the fields of bodies, the trenches in sight as the explosions and gunfire whip by him as he dives among the duckboards for cover. The muddy mazes and the makeshift wooden slats turn into a hallway as he scrambles. The screams and explosions change to the sounds Genevieve made the day they rescued her and he searches desperately for her in the dark. He hears her and cannot find her, he screams for her and fights against the nothingness that surrounds him. Suddenly the cries stop, he’s in his home int he city, charging up the newly varnished stairs to his room to find their mutual friends standing over an empty bed.

“I’m sorry.” They all murmur and look at him with pity.

He tastes blood in his mouth, still covered in the filth of the trenches from earlier, hands on the bed and hitting it as if it would make something happen.

“She fought so hard.” Aggie says, sobbing into Claire’s shoulder.

“It was so sudden.” Claire whispers, shaking her head.

“If only you’d been there.” Tommy says, glaring into him.

“We’ll never forgive you for this.” Arthur growls.

“I told you to treat her better.” Polly sneers.

Alfie pants and growls, looking at them with wild eyes and sweat soaked skin.

“She’s gone Alfie. She’s dead. Because of you. It’s all your fault. You miserable old cunt.” Claire spits at him. “You were supposed to protect her.”

“Why didn’t you save me Alfie?” he hears her voice from behind him as he pivots and stares, sprawled on the bed as she’s in the doorway. One of her indulgent long sheer gowns in white, flowing and light around her body, lit up like the sun. Her face is solemn and hurt, her voice so timid it burns his chest to hear it.

“I did. I tried, love. Fuck Genevieve, I tried. I’m sorry.” he rushes out as he scrambles to her and his hands go through her.

“I’m gone, Alfie.” she shakes her head.

“No, no, you can’t be.” his hands reach out to nothing as she starts to fade.

The accusations and reminders of Gen’s demise are all shouted at him as he keeps desperately grabbing and calling out for her. His body pushed so hard against the hurt that he wakes himself, half in and out of sleep, still heavy underneath the effects of the tonic. He finds himself thrashing and yelling in her bed, through instinct he looks for her near him, and when she is not there his half woke mind panics.

“No.” he chokes out, her absence telling him just like earlier that she was certainly dead. -------

The edges of her world were fuzzy. The pain in her body could be felt, but it was as if it were far away. She moves slowly, Arthur's arms on her gently as they make their way to a stone bench in the garden. He’s personally thrilled with her progress, recalling the state Tommy was in and how couldn’t even move in the beginning. Granted, she hadn’t had so many obvious injuries, but Polly had explained to him that the injuries inside someone can be far greater than the ones on the outside when it comes to the mind. That he knew what it was like to have your mind out to get you, and he had always looked at those suffering with pity and empathy ever since. His eyes for Gen were no different in the afternoon sun. He says sweet praise as she moves with a limp, her ankle on the verge of healing now.

“There she is now.” he declares with outstretched hands her hands rest over her thin white robe on her thighs as she sits up on her own. She was a bit wobbly, granted, but she was managing. Aggie stood behind her and kept watch that she would stay upright. Once they saw she was stable enough, Tommy brings out Charlie by the hand as he oh’s and ah’s at the seemingly giant pieces of the garden.

“There’s Auntie Genny now, eh?” Tommy says with a soft tone, holding the boy back from charging at her as he normally would. With a happy squeal, Gen raises her head towards the boy's noises and as he approaches she slowly recognizes her favorite small human. Arthur beams as a smile slowly comes across her face, albeit a sleepy one, but it was a good sign to be getting anything out of her at this point. After a brief kiss of cheeks, Tommy suggests Charlie pick his Auntie some flowers, eager to please and get his hands on the overwhelming amount of color surrounding him he happily bounds away. Gen watches him shrink and disappear behind a hedge, her smile faltering as she recalls her dream, a wrinkle of her nose and a mood swing takes her as she rests on her hand with a pained sigh, her eyes once again vacant.

“What is it Genny?” Arthur gruffs out, taking her hand and gently rubbing her back, stimulating her enough to meet his eyes.

“She can’t talk yet, dear.” Aggie says, pulling the pen and paper out of her apron pocket. “Here you go darling, would you like to try to talk to us a bit?” she asks with kind eyes, putting the pen in her hand for her. Her grip is shaky at first, but it does respond and Arthur doesn’t hide his relief that she’s able to do such a thing. At least her brain was sending out the orders, even if her body was slow to follow them.

“The children.” she writes, looking into the distance.

“They were excited to see you, eh?” Arthur happily chirps in his deep comforting voice. “Little Ruby is down for a nap, long drive ‘n that. Linda has Billy up at the farm, he wasn’t feelin’ up to it poor lad.” he explains.

Gen shakes her head, her eyes not meeting his.

“Oh don’t feel bad about it, love, he’s just got a bit of stomach upset. Probably got into the sweets behind our back again!” he says happily with a laugh.

Gen slowly reaches out and puts a weak grip on Aggie’s forearm, the other hand lifting the paper and pushing it towards her again.

“She’s been asking about children after waking up.” Aggie says quietly, her hand tender on Gen’s face as she sees an unexplained pain behind her unfocused eyes.

“What’s she on about?” Arthur faces Aggie, but keeps his eyes on the disheartened Gen.

“We don’t know.” Aggie let’s out a sigh.

“Look here’s little Charlie. Here’s the boy now.” Arthur says trying to distract her.

Charlie had been blessed with his mother’s patience, as he surely hadn’t gotten it from his father. They sit in the garden, Charlie babbling to a reluctantly willing participant in Gen about flowers. She takes them one by one into her hands, forming a bouquet slowly, Arthur watching her receive and follow commands from the enthusiastic boy and rubbing her back as she was able to grip and respond with nods as the child spoke.

“She’s doing better.” Claire says, standing at the foot of the stairs with Aggie, watching the picturesque scene go down, Gen with a peaceful look on her face, Charlie happily babbling and tottering around in the high grass and jumping after butterflies.

“She’s asking about children again.” Aggie frowns. “But other than that yes.”

“The doctor told us there would be confusion and even hallucinations. For what she’s been through the subject doesn’t surprise me. Tommy mentioned it to me in confidence as well. Says he saw all sorts of things.”

“Well, that’s just wonderful.” Aggie says with heavy sarcasm that she doesn’t usually explore. “How are we to know if she’s doing any better in her mind if she’s bloody hallucinating.” she groans.

“It’s still too soon to tell. Once she’s off the medicine we’ll be able to know for sure.”

“But when will that be? Maybe never!” Aggie huffs.

“Don’t let Alfie’s poor mood rub off on you Ags.” Claire chuckles and pats her back.

“My apologies dear this whole situation is just a bit... overwhelming.” she admits her hands wringing together with worry despite the clear progress being made in front of her.

“I know. But we can do this.” Claire nods confidently. “Let’s try to enjoy it moment by moment shall we? Look at her, not pained in appearance or sound, following commands, responding, sitting like a little flower in her lovely white robes among her favorite things.” Claire’s hand sweeps out. “Our friends are here, she’s here, Alfie has finally shut the fuck up and went to sleep.” she laughs and Aggie grins.

“Thank Christ for that.” she rolls her eyes. “Bloody menace that man is. I thought he’d be the one to be the most helpful but I feel as if we’re babysitting him as well.”

“I believe he’s unaccustomed to such emotions. Despite his insistence that this is something that happens to people like them, I believe he’s racked with guilt. With rest, I believe he’ll get better. He loves her. Let’s try to remember that. It’s out of love and even if he is a clever one, he’s still just a man.” Claire says with a sigh.

“Not to us. He’ll be her husband, father of her children, man of the house. His name will be on everything. I just want him to be strong enough for her is all.” She rubs the bridge of her nose. “I pray he is but-“

Just then a roar erupts from inside the house. The unmistakable boom of Alfie echoing off the halls and out of the wall of open windows and patio doors to everyone in the garden.

“Fucks sake.” Claire groans, already having to eat her words.

“MR. SOLOMONS!” The girls inside call out over and over. “SHE’S ONLY IN THE GARDEN SIR!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HER? WHERE DID YOU TAKE MY GENNY?!” his voice shouts with malice spat at the innocent and fearful faces of the maids.

“SHE'S NOT DEAD SHES IN THE GARDEN!” One squeals, being shoved out of the way as he barges through every door in the house.

“Fucking hell.” Claire moans, moving fast up the stairs. “What the fuck is going on?” Claire demands from a scurrying maid.

“I don’t know!” She says with watery eyes from what were surely hurtful words from Alfie. “He took the lady’s tonic and laid down, then he started screaming and fighting in his sleep when he woke up and kept doing it! I don’t know! It’s like he’s on drugs!” One answers with shaking hands.

“The vial.” Aggie replies and hitches up her skirt to chase after the sounds in Genevieve’s wing of the house. “The man only drinks ceremonial wine and he’s gone and taken belladonna.”

With understanding clear on her face Claire laments and posts up on the back patio, ready for him to come her way. He’s either taken too much or doesn’t know he’s awake she assumes. Of course, he’d freak out when he woke and she wasn’t there.

“Alfie! She’s in the garden. GARDEN, ALFIE! GEN IS IN THE GARDEN!” Aggie shouts as he turns to see her in the doorway of Gen’s studio.

“SHE’S DEAD, WHAT DID YOU FUCKERS DO WITH HER BODY?!” he charges towards her.

She moves out of the way wisely. “GARDEN!” Aggie says and shoves him down the hall. “I see why he doesn’t bloody drink now.” she murmurs to herself, chasing after the stumbling lion as he slides down the hallway in his socks.

“C’MERE ALFIE!” Claire shouts, getting his attention, seeing in his face that he wasn’t all there. She herds him down the hall to the back patio where he sees her. Same as in his dream. All white and fluffy and soft, a face of confusion as their eyes lock across the path.

“Genny.” a whine escapes him as Arthur moves to protect her, he didn’t know what was going on, just that Alfie was acting like a rabid animal.

“Ah-?” she whispers, slowly moving towards him, holding her robe up and her face full of concern, the most alert anyone had seen her all day.

“Gen...Gen..” he says, powering down, his feet hitting heavy against the light stone landing, the vison of her, what he thought was a ghost making his head spin. The race of his blood, the haze his mind was in, the lack of sleep and the culmination of stress, thinking his love dead all hit him as he takes one more step and collapses against the ground like a tranquilized beast. Everyone stops and stares.

Claire is the first to get over the shock and rush his way, motioning her arm to Aggie as she comes through the doors. “He’s passed out the absolute ninny.” she rolls her eyes.

“What the fuck is this?” Tommy says rounding the corner and Arthur is still by the hobbling Gen’s side.

“Bad reaction to the sleep tonic I imagine.” Claire sighs, rolling him and propping him up, one of the male staff members coming to help her hoist him up.

“I’d say.” the maid's murmurs amongst themselves.

“Get her back into bed with him. I’ll not have this circus erupting again.” Claire orders.

“I only wanted him to get some rest.” Aggie pouts.

“You didn’t know he’d react this way, Agatha. It’s fine. As this beast likes to say, these things happen.” Claire grunts as she helps carry him back to their bed. “If he can’t handle a little of bubbies potion I see why he doesn’t drink now.” She snarks.

-----

Genevieve sits up in bed of her own accord for the first time since coming home. She sits with timid body language, hands in her lap as she keeps her eyes on the snoring man next to her.

“Perhaps opium would’ve been a better choice.” Tommy smirks as he stands with his hands in his pockets, Claire and Aggie rolling their eyes his way.

“At least he wouldn’t have broken the vase if he was on opium.” Aggie protests.

Claire grins at Aggie who was entirely over Alfie’s wild antics the past few days. “Best he stays away from anything now. Except her I suppose.” Claire pats Genevieve’s leg covered by her plush duvet as she ignores the conversation around her and watches the nuance of Alfie’s lip blubbing in his sleep. She reaches out, having grown impatient to touch him even though they had all been keeping watch only a matter of minutes. Everyone watches her with bated breath as her hand reached out, body turned just slightly which was a feat in itself, as she touched his face.

“Ah.” she whispers, leaning closer to him, fingers carding through his now fluffy and unkempt hair, long pieces across his forehead that reminded her of the feelings he used to bring out in her with his moments of unintentional boyish charm.

His strong sloped nose twitches, hearing his back crack and pop as he arches it and grunts. “Pet?” he murmurs, hand reaching up to touch hers, wondering if everything had been a bad dream for a blissful moment in time before opening his eyes. But when he accepts that he is in indeed in the less than perfect reality when Gen’s watercolor splotched soft face comes into focus. Neck still wearing a necklace of bruises, braces on fingers that he now felt under his hand as he gently kisses her palm and sighs. “What are you doin’ up, love? What ya need?” he begins before slowly sitting up himself.

Her face smiles and he gives her a sleepy one back, finding brief solace in her happiness to look at him still despite being a man, and men had done those terrible things to her. Once he sits up his eyes move away from her, and his eyes go wide, chin pushed into his neck as his face moves into a sharp scowl. “What in the fuckin' hell is this?” he asks looking at the people surrounding the bed. “Some fuckin' rest I’ll be gettin' with the lot of you fuckin hoverin’ like fuckin’ fly’s.” he complains loudly, lips pursed as he meets their eyes.

“He doesn’t remember.” Claire smirks.

“Remember what?” he barks.

Gen lets out a small huff of a laugh that takes all his attention.

“Was that a laugh? Ya havin’ a laugh are ya?” a falsely threatening brow but a smile on his face for the happy sound from her makes him put his arm around her and let her lie against him. “What’s your old man done so I can do it again if it makes you laugh, love.” he chuckles into her hair as she resumes her kitten-like behavior and nuzzles into his side.

“You had a bad reaction to the sleep tonic you took,” Claire explains. “You didn’t know what was a dream and what was reality and you stormed through the house shouting about her being dead and then passed out when you saw her in the garden.” The superior feeling Claire had to finally have one over on Alfie was clear in her taunting face.

“I fuckin’ wot? No I dinnit.” he denies, shaking his head, voice gruff and defensive.

“We all saw it.” Tommy adds.

“Well it’s your fault innit!” he says with a broad swipe of his big paw of a hand towards the smug looking man.

“How was I to know you couldn’t hold your drugs?” he gives a subtle grin.

“I don’t do that shite for a reason, yeah? It’s fuckin’ awful that stuff.”

“Well don't take belladonna again.” Aggie scolds with a shake of her head. “You scared the wits out of the maids.”

“Eh.” he shrugs. “Best they get a backbone yeah?” his tone was still defensive and everyone could see it on his face. He was a bit embarrassed. Gen puts her hand on his stomach and rubs the softness that lies beneath the linen of his shirt as she listened to his voice, that boom, and power that made her shut her eyes and know things were okay.

“You best get a backbone.” Aggie retorts, crossing her arms.

“Excuse you?” Alfie laughs.

“I’m serious! You’ve scared Genevieve, screaming and then passing out and calling her name. Then the maids, and us with your loud arse stumbling around the house like a bloody bull.” her voice has bite and Alfie’s tilted head shows his surprise.

“Agatha, love, I didn’t know you were so bitter.”

“Not bitter just tired, Alfie.” she murmurs. “I don’t want to have to worry about you. You’ve been a fucking mess since she’s been home and I don’t want you acting like a boy. She needs a man. We all need a strong man to be there for her. And you’ve been nothing but another burden in your behavior. Acting like everyone is out to get you in this house. Acting like you’re the only one that cares about her or can care for her. You aren’t the only one affected by this and it’s time you realized that.”

Alfie blinks slowly, Claire wearing a proud look on her face. “Language Aggie.” he chuckles.

“Well I’m very fucking serious!” she says with straight posture and furrowed brow.

“Thank you for sharing your feelings then Agatha.” Alfie gives her a nod, trying not to grin at the entirely nonthreatening angry face the older woman was wearing.

“I also agree with that. You can’t stay here holed up as you have been. There’s proof it’s making you mad now.” Claire snarks.

“What do you think, love?” he softly asks Gen, a scapegoat for his behavior he thinks. But she’s already asleep on his chest. “Oh fuckin’ ‘ell look at her.” he sighs, fingers stroking her hair softly. “How can I want to leave this?” he mutters before kissing her hair.

“You don’t have to want to. You have to. You have a business. People are going to talk if you just fuck off to stay at home. They’ll think you’re weak, Alfie.” Tommy says.

He knew he wasn’t wrong. “Fuckin’ up me arse the lot of ya.” he grumbles.

“We’re going to be if you don’t start getting out of this bed and work on being yourself again. She needs you to be you so she can remember how to be herself.” Claire says, leaning forward and speaking intensely with eye contact to Alfie’s still hesitant eyes. “Your fucking legs are going to stop working if you stay in here with her much longer like this.” she says with more humor, pinching his shin.

Alfie sighs, kissing Gen's forehead. “I’m not doin’ it because ya tellin’ me to. Let me make that fuckin’ clear.” he points at each with a low brow. “But for her. She needs someone out there to control things. People are gonna talk 'bout her. She’s got more to lose than me right now. And I will admit though, right, that I don’t wanna be shoutin’ and actin’ like some fuckin’ drunk in me own house in front of people.” he grunts.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Alfie.” Claire groans. “We just need you to trust us and let her have her space. She can’t become dependent on you either. It’s not good for either of you.”

“Yeah.” he mumbles. “Not no little pups no more are we love?” he sighs and kisses her head. “Can’t stay in the love bubble forever as you say.” he continues speaking to her despite her state of consciousness. “She’d want me back out there.” he admits.

“Yes. Yes she would.” Claire nods enthusiastically. “She would want you healthy, handling your business. She wouldn’t want you to decline because of her.”

“‘N today was fuckin’ decline, innit?” he groans and rubs his head.

“Most certainly. You really showed your arse today Alfie.” Aggie says still pouting and peeved.

“Alright Ags. Christ.” he chortles. “We’ll take it slow today, yeah? Call up Ollie and have ‘im over for tea. We’ll figure this out.” he answers quietly with authority as he looks down at Genevieve. “We’ll get back on track tomorrow. ‘Cause I feel right pissed wif ‘is in me system still. Fuckin’ embarrassin’.” he admits and shakes his head. “One day at time, yeah?” he speaks softly, kissing her hair again and taking a deep breath of her lavender scent. “Same as you little flower. Not gonna block the sun for ya to bloom with my big loud arse around all the time.” he beams and shuts his eyes and she mewls under the contact, nose mushed into his side. “One day at a time, love.”

Please like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed it! It helps out us writers A LOT!

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[spadefish]

Spadefish’s Advice On Getting Your Art Seen and Your Work Sold: Making It As A Freelancer In The Online Art Scene

since a few people have expressed interest in hearing how I make things work!! I don’t know if I’d consider myself a ‘professional,’ but I do make commission art for a living and I do pay my bills, so take this as you will!! Gonna put this under a readmore so it doesn’t take up too much dash space. This applies mostly to tumblr artists, especially those just starting out. 

1. TAG YOUR WORK. 

I know, I know, tags are dead. Except they’re not!! The search system here is whack, but people still use it. In addition, you never know if someone is gonna go through your art and look for a specific fandom or character! Tag liberally. Put the most pertinent tags in the first five, because those are the ones that show up, but tag EVERYTHING. fandom, series, character name, subject, anything you can think of. And ofc, you’d better have a tag for your art!! Mine is ‘my art’ and there’s a link to it right on my blog. 

(I personally also have a blog JUST for my art-- this is useful and I highly recommend it.) 

Another thing this does is allows people viewing your art to disambiguate it. If I see a picture of a blonde boy with messy hair and I want to know if it’s Ryuji, Spark, or Owain, I’m gonna go to the original post to see. If the character’s name isn’t listed, I’m less likely to reblog it because I might be wrong! 

2. POST AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE.

Even if it’s a doodle or a sketch, or a wip. Even if you’re not necessarily sure you like how it turned out. More content means more stuff for people to look at, and you never know which pieces are gonna resonate with which people. Draw fandom stuff, draw oc stuff, do studies and still lives and everything else, but post it!! 

Kind of on this note, don’t rag on your own work in the caption. Being negative about your own work 1. only further makes you feel bad and 2. definitely doesn’t convince someone to buy work from you. Be confident in your skills!! You made something!! 

3. PROMO YOUR WORK.

Self reblogs!! Don’t be afraid of them!! Especially if you’re like me and post in the wee hours of the morning. Always reblog your own art at least once in a ‘prime’ part of the day so more people see it. Every once in a while, I queue a bunch of my favourite recent work so more people get to see it. You should be doing this with your commission info as well-- reblog it often, so people know you’re open! 

4. YOUR COMMISSION INFO...

...Should be easy to access, as to-the-point as possible, and most importantly, it should feature recent work!! I update my commission info at least once a year to feature more recent work, so that it’s accurately reflecting my skills. If you’re working, you’re growing and making progress, and your info should reflect that. Use your BEST WORK as your examples, because that’s what people are going to look at when they think about commissioning you. 

Pricing is a little trickier, because for a lot of freelancers on this site, shooting lower often yields more sales. Pay attention to competitors of your ‘skill level’ and consider the demand for your work when pricing. Personally, I think you should never charge lower than $10 for a piece, but even that’s still murder in my opinion. If you have the resources, time yourself while you draw and try and assign yourself an hourly wage estimate. 

5. SPREAD OUT!!

Don’t limit yourself to just tumblr. Post your work in as many places as possible. In my opinion, Furaffinity is one of the most lucrative places to put your art, if you’ve got the right subject material. Make sure your commission info is easily accessible in those places as well!!

(6. Are you 18+?) Comfortable with and practiced in drawing n/s//f/w content? If it’s something that floats your boat, there’s a lot of business there. Be clear in your guidelines of what you will and will not draw. Obviously, you can’t post n/s/f//w work here any longer, but you sure can on FA and Twitter, and you can still take nsf///w orders through messenger here.

AFTERWORD 

These are my methods!! They’re obviously not the end-all-be-all, but they make things work for me-- I’ve got steady work and I’m paying bills, so that seems like success to me!! This is more of a supplement to help anyone out who’s struggling to figure out the business side of a passion-job. Hope this helps someone!!

[permian-tropos]

For a while I thought your SW takes were good and I followed you, but you know what? You’re a fucking hypocrite. You say you don’t like R/ylo, and the ship is fucking disgusting, but you still lap up notes from them anyway. I recognize URLs. You won’t call yourself an anti because you think we’re what, bad for standing up to a shit ship and the racists who fucking ship it? It’s because you’re afraid of looking bad to them because they’re the only ones who give you attention. Fucking. Hypocrite.

Why are you so afraid of saying you’re an anti? We don’t stand for bad shit. We’re ANTI bad, demeaning, sexist tropes. We’re anti abuse and racism. And your SW takes aren’t bad! You actually see through the bullshit parts of the story. But for fuck’s sake you’re dripping with condescension all the time about what antis are like, like you’re too good for it, and I call bull. You’re afraid of losing the attention R/ylos give you if you actually stood up for something and called them on their shit.

Okay, I’m sorry. I got angry. But when you said that the anti side of fandom couldn’t be arsed to get into details I was pissed. You could do a lot on the anti side of fandom! Why do you act like attention from antis has to be avoided! You’re cool with fucking R/ylos reblogging your posts but you can’t stop ragging on us. It’s. Not. Bad. To. Be. An. Anti.

Usually I delete messages like these, I’ll make an exception because you apologized, so I can get some things absolutely clear. 

*clears throat*

Anon, you have absolutely no right to speak to anyone like this (especially take a moment and consider whether you thought the fact that you followed me gave you some right to dictate what I should be allowed to say or do). You need to cut this shit out right now. Do not send messages swearing at people you’ve never met and accusing them of hypocrisy because of Star Wars fan wank. This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten an angry anon bitter about how I haven’t picked a side in this INCREDIBLY DIRE AND IMPORTANT WAR FOR MORAL JUSTICE, so I’m putting my foot DOWN VERY HARD. Your identity is painfully wrapped up in fictional characters if you’re this incensed that I’m not on your side.

Reasons why I’m not an “anti”:

1) This. This kind of disrespectful cultish moral abuse. Your community shames anyone who interacts with the human fucking beings who you’ve assigned the enemy. I will not participate in that, I will not enable it, I will not enjoy the benefits of it. I certainly won’t join up only to be harassed. The fact that I’m even slightly anti-adjacent has emboldened you to, well, do this. Imagine if I was in deep. I’ve seen what kind of nastiness antis spew on each other when someone dares to, say, explore reylo in a dark non-endgame context.

2) I don’t think it’s evil to ship reylo. I disagree with plenty of things reylo shippers have argued about the canon narrative. But no, it’s not wrong to romanticize dark violent ships, or swoon over villains, or fantasize about redemption arcs. I literally do all of those things. I’m a villain lover and a dark shipper and a redemption sucker. I actually just… don’t like Kylo Ren as compared to other characters with superficial similarities. Did you miss the part where my favorite ship is between two fascist dictators who fight to the death? You really shouldn’t be shocked by my attitude if you noticed anything I was posting positively about. I don’t want to be in an anti community because if the Aftermath Trilogy were popular, gallirae would be a ship with an antifandom. It’s an edgy mcdarkfuck hell trash. That’s my wheelhouse. 

3) You are not anti abuse. This is fucking abuse, towards a real person, which is the kind of abuse that matters. You asshole. 

4) “You could do a lot on the anti side of the fandom” god this feels like a villainous “join me and we could rule the galaxy together” 

5) Yeah I’m cool with reylos reblogging my posts. Some of them are my fucking friends. And I don’t caaaaaare if people who ship something different from me happen to share my taste for something unrelated. “You only interact with them because they’re the only people who will interact with you” and you think, what, I should condemn myself to isolation? If they like my stuff that’s great! Also, I don’t need to convince them to stop shipping the ship, but if I make a sensible take I can spread certain forms of common sense in any community. If I’m not seen as a cruel, vindictive bully by the reylo community, and if I don’t shame people for having at worst a pulpy bodice-ripper romance story that makes them happy, I will have a little more authority in calling out problematic attitudes. Also I don’t want to be a cruel, vindictive bully. I want to be kind to people. You asshole. 

6) Reylo isn’t a political stance. Liking any ship says fuck all about what kind of person you are. What is an awful, fundamentally reactionary political stance is dehumanizing people who have “deviant” aesthetic interests. 

7) The anti community has been extremely bitter about TLJ, and as a result has been unable to talk about a canonically villainous Kylo Ren positively. The fact that you are anti is the problem! Yes, it’s bad to be an anti, bad for you and anything you want to enjoy. It’s absolutely poisonous to your brain to lash your sense of self to feelings of hatred, and hate of an online fan community no less. You can have the same tastes in fiction while being PRO-SOMETHING. That’s why I have a tag “villain Kylo”. I’m not anti Kylo Ren. I’m pro villain Kylo. It’s something I like. It’s something I enjoy thinking about. 

8) You’re a fucking asshole. I’m flattered you hold me to such high regard that you’d be angry I’m not on your side. But here’s the thing. I am on your side. I think you’re being a terrible person right now, and I would forgive you if you made amends, because I don’t believe you’re unspeakably, unforgivably evil. I think you’re in a bad crowd, and you should take a long moment to think what your fandom habits have led you to. This is toxic as fuck. 

9) Talk to me in private if you’re mature enough to apologize for real. I’m too damn nice for my own good. But don’t send me any more anon hate. I will delete it.

[wandaposting]

Eeeee, I meant concerns about lizzie, I'm curious.

+

Hi, are people hating on Lizzy? She’s so sweet and funny and adorable, I adore her

+

heeeeyyyyy i saw you mentioned somewhere legitimate criticisms against lizzie olsen and i’d love to hear them if you’ve got the time - i saw your breakdown of criticisms against wanda and you’re obviously very educated about this, and i feel it’s important i know as much about the celebrities i love as i can. so if you wouldn’t mind i’d really like to hear what the legitimate criticisms against lizzie are?? thnx ily

hehehehehe I THOUGHT U MEANT LIZZIE, FRIEND!!!

I’m gonna preface first by saying I’ve called her flawless bean uwu before this and I’m gonna keep calling her flawless bean uwu after this, because that’s what I do, and also because she’s legit a lovely and down to earth person by all accounts and I feel heckin blessed that she plays our girl.

Something else to keep in mind that just about every actor who plays every major character has people ragging on them. There’s an Anti Tom Holland tag. Why is there an Anti Tom Holland tag? I don’t know, but there’s a vocal minority against just about everyone, especially if they’re white in Woke Tumblr/Twitterspace. Haters gonna hate, and we don’t have to pay attention to them. The response to just about every cast member in the MCU has been massively positive where it matters.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t put my critical thinking hat on, think about the times she’s said stuff I’ve disagreed with, and consider the validity of some of the vocal minority that is her detractors.

She doesn’t seem to understand the comics. Or to rephrase this, she hasn’t conveyed an understanding of the comics as thoroughly and eloquently as, say, Tom Hiddleston (who may be One Of Us in the way he waxes beautiful, beautiful meta). At this point it’s easy to pull the Ignorant card, but I think it’s more complicated than that. I stand by my earlier position that Comics Wanda is a Clusterfuck (I say, with endearment), and to have a thorough and eloquent understanding of Comics Wanda is to acknowledge this fact. Comic clusterfucks don’t help someone who is trying to formulate a narrative about a character and get into their shoes.

So she took that big pile of Wanda-related comics they gave her when she first got the role, and she formulated her own narrative to tie it all together. Some parts of that narrative may be different from yours or mine. Other parts of that narrative may be oversimplified. And other parts are certainly different from the narratives of Woke Tumblr/Twitterspace. It’s what she’s got, and it’s not less or more valid than the rest.

I can see why people with their own strong opinions about Wanda would object to things Lizzie has said (I can’t pull up videos right now, but she’s said stuff like “she’s crazy” back in 2015). I’m personally uncomfortable with how she hypes No More Mutants, and I go through a mini internal crisis over whether I should reblog posts that hype No More Mutants every time I see them on my dash. (For those who have seen the Haunting of Hill House, it’d be the same as hyping and praising the deeply troubled Olivia Crain circa Episode 10, if she also happened to psychically massively alter an entire population of people during her meltdown. Also Bendis just sucks at writing OP characters in OP scenarios. And dialogue. And a slew of other stuff.)

She’s also used the term “gypsy” to describe the twins. Some people consider that a slur, others do not, and others have no idea that any drama surrounding the word exists. (Jason Momoa literally named his production company Pride of Gypsies.) I can’t speak to whether it should be considered a slur or not, but I can say that popular culture is clueless about it thanks to… popular culture, and movies like Hunchback of Notre Dame. I didn’t even know it could be considered offensive until I dug deep into the Comics Wanda fandom way back when, because it definitely doesn’t hold the mainstream connotation that “this word is vile and intended to be vile” like other racial slurs. I suggest to those who do consider it offensive to have patience with those you’re informing, because it’s an uphill battle for those reasons. But I’m sure Lizzie never said it again after it was pointed out to her, and Mark Ruffalo has apologized for reacting in poor taste when it happened.

Then there’s the elephant in the room. The big enchilada: the belief that Wanda Maximoff should be played by a Roma and/or Jewish actress. I’ve already deliberated my thoughts about this at length, but to summarize: Comics Wanda is still a Clusterfuck (I say, with endearment) that leaves plenty of room for many, many, many different interpretations and adaptations of Wanda to exist. Lizzie’s great in the role. I’m sure a WoC would be great, too. Heck, I’ve seen some great fancasts floating around, so good on those. But my take is that there’s nothing morally wrong about Lizzie being in the role–you can prefer that someone else be in the role, you can be disinterested in Lizzie’s Wanda because she’s not your tea, and hey, that’s valid.

To those who think Lizzie should be smeared for not stepping down and allowing the role to be recast because it’s the Right thing to do, I say fuck that, those are the kinds of people that are too high up on their high horse for me to understand.

So I’m still gonna be here calling her flawless bean uwu, with the caveat that I do disagree with some of the things she’s stated and probably will state and that’s okay. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[sam-i-am-27]

Split

Summary: Felix just wanted a birthday with his friends. Mark just wanted to go home and not bother anyone. Instead of getting their wishes, they and Ethan are kidnapped by a strange man in a doctor’s outfit and a German accent.

Word Count: 1700

Warnings: Kidnapping, Nudity Implication, Urine, Abuse, Crying

Yes, this is an AU of the movie Split. 

At the party, there were almost a dozen teenagers gathered around one boy with bleached blonde hair and the beginnings of a thick, curly beard. All of them were belting at the tops of their lungs a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ as they stared at a chocolate cake decorated with the same words. All of them seemed happy, except one. This boy was sitting over to the side of the party, looking out the window and ignoring all the celebrations.

Ten minutes later, the boy was still sitting there, now on his phone and talking to someone quietly. The birthday boy walked up to his mother and best friend, shrugging. “Mercy invites always end up like this.”

“It was your idea to invite everyone in your editing class,” his mother said.

“What? That’s literally the rudest thing anyone could do, especially since she has no social media that I know of and because of that, I had to ask her either up-front or not at all.”

His mother smiled. “I’m proud that you think that way, Felix… I hope my pride is in the right place.”

“I mean, Mark’s one of those people who’s a bit of a rebel. He yells at teachers a lot, and consequently, he gets detention a lot.”

“What a big word, Felix!” his friend commented.

“Shut up, Ethan,” Felix said, giving his friend a playful punch in the shoulder. “Maybe she can uber?”

“No, we’re not leaving until she’s got a visible ride outside the door. And that’s final,” his mother said. They quieted down as Mark got off the phone and approached the three.

“Yeah, uh, my uncle’s stuck in heavy traffic and won’t be here for another three hours or so. I’ll be fine waiting by myself. Or even better, I’ll take the bus” he said.

“You’re not taking a bus. We’ll drive you home, it’s fine,” Felix’s mother smiled softly. “This may be the last time I get to drive you around since Felix has almost saved up enough for his own car!”

Felix scowled at his mom, his ears growing a bit red as Ethan hid a smirk behind his hand.

“Uh, no. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“Nonsense, it’ll be fine!” Felix’s mom said.

“All you’ll be missing if you don’t come is a weird music choice somewhere between Bowie and Cardi B,” Felix said.

Without much choice, Mark followed the family out of the establishment and into the parking lot, lagging behind a little since he didn’t really know either Felix or Ethan. They reached the car and slowly began piling Felix’s coutless presents into the trunk. As Felix and Ethan piled into the back seats of the car, Mark helped Felix’s mother with the leftover food and gifts.

“Thank you, Mark. I got the rest,” she said, giving him a warm smile. Not wanting to argue, he got into the shotgun seat and waited quietly. In the back, he could hear Felix and Ethan laughing about whatever videos they had found posted by their classmates. There was a thud as the trunk closed and instinctively, Mark glanced at the side-view mirror to see if something was coming up behind him.

There was nothing there so when the door next to him opened, he pulled on his seat belt. As he was about to fasten it into the lock, he glanced back into the mirror. Boxes of cake and pizza were splattered all over the ground. Birthday gifts were strewn about the food.

As slow as possible, Mark turned in his seat, letting the seat belt fall back into place. In the place where Felix’s mom was supposed to be was a middle-aged man wearing a long white lab coat, rubber gloves and spotless teal scrubs. His hair was mostly hidden by one of those weird hats but a few strands of green were poking out around his square-rim glasses.

He sighed in annoyance, pulling out a green cloth, wrapping it around his index finger and scrubbing the little hula lady atop the dashboard. He then began to meticulously pick up little pieces of trash and place them into the cupholder.

Felix and Ethan’s laughs subsided as they finally realized that Felix’s mother had been replaced.

“Sir, I think you have the wrong car,” Felix said.

The Doctor didn’t say anything, only completing his doctor-look with a surgical mask. Mark’s mind raced a million miles in less than half-a-second. He was either protecting his identity or was protecting himself from something airborne. Either way, this wasn’t the situation he needed to be in and he needed to escape right now.

The question was answered within seconds, he had locked the doors and was spraying some sort of chemical into both Felix and Ethan’s faces, making them cough for a few seconds and then pass out cold.

Mark’s world tunneled. Definitely not a situation he needed to be in. Everything was going in slow-motion, the only sounds were Mark’s own heart beat and the annoyed sighs of the Doctor as he continued to clean the dashboard with his yellow cloth.

Not daring to breath, Mark reached up and grasped the door handle with two fingers. He needed to be as quiet as possible about this as possible… the Doctor didn’t even know he existed yet…

The sound of it unlocking and the sudden beeping was as loud and sudden as a gunshot. The Doctor whipped around, surprised at the noise, and looked Mark dead in the eyes. In that instant, Mark knew there was no escape for him.

He sent a pleading look to the Doctor He wasn’t supposed to be here! He was supposed to be on a bus heading home! Tears began to roll down his face. Please…

The Doctor only scowled, pulled the mask on again and held the spray can up to Mark’s face.

A long hallway filled with pipes and dim lights… He was being rolled somewhere…The squeak of metal on metal…

Where was he?

Something soft and warm…

He opened his eyes a crack and saw Ethan and Felix huddled together on a single cot, breathing rapidly and looking absolutely terrified beyond words.

When Felix saw him awake, he tapped Ethan’s arm quickly.

Neither of them said anything as Mark sat up, his stomach sore from sleeping on it for however long he was out. In front of him was a large metal door surrounded by polished dark wood. The metal was rusty but smoothed down so there was no chance of a hand-hold; same with the wood.

“We woke up in here,” Felix said as Mark turned to look at the small, pure bathroom. A toilet, a shower, an oval mirror and a sink. Everything inside was blinding white except a single yellow tulip sitting in a glass on the sink.

He pushed himself up and took deep breath.

“What the fuck is going on? What are we doing here? Mark, do you know what happened to my mom?”

“Shh. He’s out there,” Ethan whispered.

“Do you know what happened to my mom?” Felix repeated desperately.

A door closed loudly outside of the one they were looking at. They all began to breathe heavily, at the sound, keeping their eyes fixed on the door. Lights began to turn on as the door handle turned and the door itself was opened by the same man in a white lab coat. He was carrying fold-up wooden chair and didn’t say a word as unfolded the chair, keeping his annoyed expression focused on the three.

Before he sat down, he pulled out the same yellow rag and wiped the seat clean of any and all dirt, folded it up into a neat little square and put it into his pocket. He folded his arms and stared at them. He glanced over at Ethan, who was obviously the most uncomfortable, rubbing his thumb rapidly on his thigh.

The Doctor stood, pointing at Ethan.

“I choose you first,” he said in a heavy German accent. He folded up the chair with a snap and brought it into the back room. In the short amount of time he was given, Mark examined the room. Dirty cement walls, a large clothing rack… and not much else from where he was sitting.

The Doctor returned just as Felix was beginning to comfort Ethan again. He walked to Ethan deliberately.

“Zis vill only be a minute,” he said, grabbing Ethan and ripping him from Felix. Both yelled in agitation, but Felix was at least smart enough not to try and take Ethan back, falling back to screaming into his hands from the cot. Ethan managed to pry himself from the Doctor’s grip long enough to run to Mark.

Mark took his face in his hands and muttered, “Pee on yourself,” just before the man got ahold of Ethan again and forcefully carried Ethan out the door. Ethan tried in vain to grab the door itself, but received a sharp slap in retaliation. His screams still echoed in the small room even after the door was closed. They could hear him whimpering, pleading for the Doctor not to do… something.

Felix ran to the door and began to pound desperately, screaming for the Doctor to release his friend. “No! No! Open the door!”

The Doctor suddenly heeded his cries, throwing the door open and carrying in Ethan. He set him down between the two cots and growled angrily, shaking his wrists in attempt to get something off of his hands. He leaned against the door and yelled between his teeth, almost pained by whatever was on his hands. With one last, growl, he slammed the door shut, leaving a sobbing, urine-covered Ethan, being comforted by Felix.

“He wanted me to dance… the outside door is locked,” Ethan muttered, stumbling quietly to the bathroom.

Felix let him go, understanding the need to shower off everything that had just happened, physically and metaphorically. He took a shaky breath. “We’re okay… we’re okay…”

He went into the bathroom to help Ethan, leaving Mark on the cot, breathing just as shakily, tears slowly forcing their way out of his eyes. This couldn’t be happening… it couldn’t…

Uh... yeah! 

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